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#my fics
prince-septimus · a day ago
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Can we have #43 and #50 touching with Druig? Perhaps he made an inappropriate comment around the Eternals for #50?
giving them a piggyback ride & putting a hand over the other's mouth to shut them up w/ druig
You were happy. For the first time in a long time, you were content and happy, and you wouldn't let yourself be denied the simple joys in life.
Even if it was something that made you look a little bit childish.
"What are the two of you doing?"
You and Druig look up at the others as you stroll into the common area of the ship. Despite her tone, Thena looks amused, and so does Makkari as they watch Druig carry you into the room on his back.
Druig uses his grip on your legs to hike you up a bit further, getting a better hold as he stands. "She asked." He shrugs.
"She asked you for a piggyback ride?"
"We just wanted to have a little fun, Thena," you pipe up, resting your chin on Druig's shoulder, who smirks. "It gets boring being cooped up in our rooms for so long."
"Not for me," Druig comments, the smirk transforming into a grin. "I was having quite a fun time with you—"
You slap your hand across Druig's mouth, but it's too late. Both Thena and Makkari are smiling knowingly at you as you feel the embarrassment rise up. You drop from Druig's back, removing your hand from his mouth and reaching for his hand instead.
"Just remembered we have something we need to talk about, sorry!" you call out to the two women, dragging Druig out of the room.
Before you get any further, though, Druig uses your hold on his hand to pull you back against him, his free hand coming up to stroke his fingers across your now heated-up cheek.
"Too much?" he asks playfully, his eyes teasing before he leans down to kiss you.
touching prompts are closed.
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robininthelabyrinth · 23 hours ago
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✿ a cute prompt idea (inspired by several fanarts) but age reversals for the siblings (ie da-ge NHS, shixong JC, meimei WQ & JYL). could lead to cute antics, fix-it timelines, or just as much/more angst
going to call this a modern AU but it's mostly just crack
ao3
“Here, I brought the drinks,” Nie Huaisang said. “And tea for Lan Zhan, of course.”
Lan Wangji nodded in appreciation.
“Much appreciated,” Jiang Cheng said. “Is everyone here?”
“Well,” Wen Ning said hesitantly. “I mean…”
“No,” Jin Zixuan said. “By which I mean yes, everyone’s here who’s going to be here. We’re not inviting Wen Chao.”
“Definitely not. Sorry, Wen-xiong, you’re the only Wen we’re allowing in here.”
“That’s fair.”
“Enough chatter,” Jiang Cheng said, and lifted his drink. “I hereby declare this to be the opening session of Club ‘So Your Younger Sibling is More Talented Than You’. Long may we bitch about our fate.”
They all saluted and drank to that.
“As a reminder, everything that’s said in this room is subject to the strictest confidentiality,” Jiang Cheng continued after a few moments. “And no one is allowed to offer any helpful advice on how to feel better about it: we’re here to vent about our mutual insecurities, not seeking advice. Club rules. Everyone agreed?”
Agreement all around.
“So, in that case, let me start,” Jiang Cheng said. “Just last week, there was a – an incident I’d rather not going into detail about, but which got my parents to start fighting again, and which served as a beautiful illustration of how both my little sister and informally adopted brother are better than me in every possible respect. They understand the Jiang sect motto better than I do, they’re nicer than I am…sometimes I even feel like they’re better friends with each other than they are with me…”
“I mean, your sister isn’t as good a cultivator as you,” Jin Zixuan offered, though the way his cheeks turned a bit red suggested he was adding a mental even if she’s really pretty and surprisingly cool afterwards.
“No, but Wei Wuxian is. He’s a genius, innovative and brilliant; he even invents new techniques,” Jiang Cheng said gloomily, politely ignoring the subtext. “Put them together and they make the perfect Jiang sect heir.”
“…I’m sorry about that.” Jin Zixuan rubbed his eyes. “If it makes you feel better, my younger half-brother is a verifiable genius, too, especially when it comes to organizing things. And he has perfect control over his emotions the way my parents are always trying to get me to do – I mean, he smiles no matter what people say to piss him off, and people say some really stupid stuff.”
Jin Zixuan’s brother was technically a bastard and the son of a prostitute, which everyone knew, and everyone also knew how much the cultivation world loved its gossip. There were nods all around.
“You think you have a problem with geniuses,” Wen Ning said quietly, drawing a pattern on the table with one finger. “My younger sister is said to be the best doctor in the entire cultivation world – no, the best doctor the cultivation world has produced in several generations.”
“Does she invent brand new ways of doing things, too?” Jiang Cheng asked, with sympathy.
Wen Ning nodded.
“And your uncle compares you?”
“Oh, does he ever.”
“My father doesn’t compare us, though sometimes I wish he would just to get it over with and make A-Yao feel better,” Jin Zixuan said. “My mother, on the other hand…”
“Don’t get me started about mothers,” Jiang Cheng said.
“You guys think you have it bad!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “Look at my younger brother! Maybe your Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli together make up a perfect sect heir – my kid brother is a perfect Nie sect heir all by himself. Fantastic cultivator, excellent at saber, brilliant strategist, responsible, mature…and unlike Jin-gongzi’s younger brother, he's legitimate. And he’s good at the stuff my sect is good at! No offense, Wen-xiong, but the Wen sect isn’t exactly known for its doctors…”
“No, you’re right,” Wen Ning said. “That sounds awful.”
“Everyone’s always comparing us,” Nie Huaisang said. “It’s always ‘Nie-gongzi, why can’t you be more like your brother?’, ‘Nie-gongzi, look how hard your brother is working’, ‘Nie-gongzi, your brother – your brother – your brother!’”
He sighed.
“I can’t even get angry at him,” he confessed. “He takes things so personally – any time he overhears someone saying something like that, he gets all up in arms on my behalf, saying that I’m trying my best…you don’t know how aggravating it can be, knowing he really is that great!”
Lan Wangji cleared his throat.
Everyone looked at him.
“Yeah, all right,” Jiang Cheng said. “You win. As usual.”
“Yeah, no contest,” Nie Huaisang said, and Wen Ning and Jin Zixuan nodded. “We may all be bad off, but at least we don’t have Lan ‘Perfect Gentleman, Most Desirable Bachelor, Nice and Friendly and Plays Multiple Instruments, Is Brilliant at Swordsmanship and Cultivation All Together At Once’ Xichen as our younger brother.”
Lan Wangji nodded firmly, though he looked a little smug.
His position as king of the club was unshakeable.
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stealth-kittyy · a day ago
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Shop Girl Part 5
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A/N: We are nearing the end my friends! The next part will be the last but I’m thinking of maybe doing one shots or something in the future. I also want to say I love Carol but she really goes through it here 🤣 thank you @renshep for editing!! Likes, comments, reblogs appreciated!
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Warning: sweating, implications of sex, friend shenanigans
Summary: bookstore!au where y/n works at a small bookstore run by Steve and Wanda walks in looking for a specific book
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
“Thank you for coming, please stop in again soon!” Steve smiled as he handed the purchase to a woman. The shop was alive again as people browsed around the shop looking through the shelves to see what caught their eye. The doorbell rang signaling people coming and going from the street fair just outside the door.
You had been anxious ever since the meeting and in all honesty you were worried it would backfire and no one would even show up. One night you spiraled hard, thinking of everything that could go wrong and it wasn’t until Wanda held you close with your face in her hands that you calmed down. But now, seeing a steady stream of people coming into the shop and enjoying the fair and all the other shops on the street, your anxiety had finally completely disappeared.
Standing behind the counter with Steve your gaze trailed back to the familiar laughter you had come to love so much. Wanda was back at the Sokovia section talking animatedly in Sokovian to an older woman gesturing to the selection. You got completely lost looking at your beautiful girlfriend. You were startled when Steve slapped you on the back.
“What a great turnout Y/N,” Steve smiled widely looking around the shop. “It’s been a long time since this place has felt full of life, well since your sorry butt waltzed in looking for a job.”
“Ha ha,” You said, rolling your shoulders still stinging from the forceful slap. “I’m relieved people showed up. Carol did an amazing job advertising the fair and getting vendors. Maybe this could be something we do every month if everyone is up for it?”
Steve let out a big smile, “I think that would be a great idea!”
A small trill caught your attention as you looked down at Alpin sitting on the counter with his little tie and name tag you made for him.
“What a distinguished little gentleman you are! Yes you are!” You cooed as you stroked Alpine causing him to purr.
“There’s the employee of the month,” Wanda laughed walking up to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. “Always such a hard worker.”
You looked at Wanda with a confused look on your face, “We don’t have an employee of the month here.”
“I just started it actually,” Steve cut in. “I thought some friendly competition would be fun around here.”
You looked at him with an even more confused look, “What? It’s just you and me though and you're the boss so how is that fair.”
Steve let out a chuckle as he pointed to the wall behind the counter, “The winner gets their picture up.”
“Uh oh, she didn't notice yet,” Wanda let out a laugh.
“Notice what?” You said as you looked to where Steve was pointing. The gasp you let out could have been heard throughout the store as you saw the plaque.
EMPLOYEE OF THE MONTH: ALPINE
“I LOST TO A CAT?!” You cried out.
Wanda wrapped her arms around your waist from behind you as she buried her face in your shoulder trying to contain her laughter, “You did say he was a distinguished gentleman and the kids love him.”
“I thought it would be cute,” Steve smiled trying to contain his own laughter at your shock.
“B-but,” You tried to argue but the words let you as Wanda’s soft lips met your neck.
“Don’t worry detka,” Wanda whispered in your ear low so no one would overhear, causing your hair to stand up on your neck. “You’re my employee of the month. You definitely worked overtime for me last night...”
“Sounds unethical to sleep with the boss if you ask me,” you laughed, turning your head to bump your nose with Wanda.
“Oh trust me the boss is more than fine with that,” Wanda smiled. “The question is if you can work long and hard hours to please your boss?”
Your brain started to short circuit at her alluring tone before you realized you were in public and Steve was only a few feet away. Jumping away from Wanda with wide eyes darting around to see if anyone was looking at what could've clearly gone further if no one had been there.
“Wanda I love you but you’re going to be the death of me if you keep doing this in public,” You whined as you met her playful eyes. “And if I’m dead I can’t win you a prize from Sam’s game he worked so hard to set up.”
Wanda held up her hands in mock surrender, “Fine, fine but this conversation will be continued later.”
You laughed knowing you would find yourself tangled in the sheets with her later making good on her threat.
“Alright Y/N, I’m cutting you. You two go have fun at the fair, I can handle things till Buck gets here,” Steve said with a soft smile.
“Are you sure? It’s still pretty busy-“
“Go before I keep you till after closing to do inventory!”
With that you grabbed Wanda’s hand and pulled her towards the door shouting a quick thanks back to Steve. As you made your way outside to the cool air the smells of the different fair foods caught your attention. From the food trucks to the funnel cakes, all the mixing aromas made your mouth water in anticipation eager to sample all the food. The sound of laughter and children filled the entire street as people stopped at the various booths and shops.
You and Wanda decided to head towards the food and you walked hand in hand taking in everything. It didn’t take long for you to both decide to share a funnel cake as you both pulled pieces off and fed them to each other, laughing at who had the most powdered sugar on them. You must have had more on your face as Wanda found herself wiping it off your face far more than you had to wipe hers, but you loved the attention she gave you.
After finishing the funnel cake you both decided to check out the booths set up along the street but a couple standing together laughing caught your attention.
“Is that…” Wanda gasped pointing down the street.
You looked to where she was pointing as your eyes got big. The couple in question were laughing as one put their hand on the other’s waist bringing them closer.
Carol and Natasha.
“She said she was busy!” You accused. You had extended an invitation to Carol to walk around with you and Wanda but she had said she was ‘busy with some things’ and ‘some things’ seemed to be Natasha Romanoff.
A sly smirk grew on your face.
“Detka, don’t you even think about it. I’ve worked too hard trying to get them together!” Wanda warned grabbing your face and bringing it close to hers.
“Don’t worry love, I’m only going to have a bit of fun with my best friend,” You laughed as you placed a small kiss on her nose, causing her to roll her eyes before releasing you, albeit reluctantly.
You walked quickly through the crowd towards Carol and Natasha as you began to prepare yourself for the performance of your life. Only feet away from the two women you mentally steeled yourself to keep yourself from laughing as you finally stopped in front of them.
“WHO THE FUCK IS THIS?!” You yelled, causing Carol to whip her head towards you with wide eyes as people around you began to stare. “I asked you to come here with me and you said you were busy and now I find you here with this hussy?!”
“Are you being serious-“ Carol started looking around at the crowd starting to gawk at the scene in front of them. While Natasha just stood there with a knowing smirk placing her hand on Carol’s arm only fueling the scene for the onlookers.
“After everything I’ve given you?! All you do is lie! We are through Carol! Through! Pack your shit and get out or I will set it on fire!” You yelled as you turned walking back towards Wanda who had her face in her hand.
Throwing your arm around Wanda you turned her as you both began to walk away from the scene behind you. You could feel Carol’s glare burning a hole in your back as you refused to look back to her.
“Are you pleased with yourself?” Wanda scolded with a grin, pinching your side.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you grabbed it and looked at the message.
Carol Danvers: You’re a fucking bitch!!!!!
“Now I am,” You laughed putting your phone back in your pocket as you kissed the top of Wanda’s head. “Ok, time to win you a stuffed animal baby girl.”
Wanda wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you closer to her making you smile as the closeness. “You really think Sam is going to let you walk away with a prize?”
“Pffft he’s not going to know what hit him!” You bragged. Wanda smiled as you puffed out your chest, excited to show off in front of your girlfriend.
As you both made your way to the front of Sarah and Sam’s restaurant you saw a small table where small portions of food were being sold. Next to it was a game booth Sam had been bragging about in the group chat, which you were forced to mute because of him. I can’t wait to make him cry, you thought to yourself as you smirked.
“Well, well, well if it isn’t Wanda and her greatest mistake Y/N,” Sam teased, crossing his arms.
“Hey!” You cried out, ready to absolutely disgrace him in front of his sister and business.
Sarah slapped her brother on the shoulder, scolding him, “Sam! We all haven’t forgotten the Fourth of July party last year so I wouldn’t go running your mouth!”
“When are you all going to let that go?!” Sam yelled, throwing up his hands.
“Never Sam,” You laughed as you walked up to his booth eyeing the adorable stuffed animal fox sitting off to the side. “So… this is your game?”
“Yep! You get four balls and you only have to knock down two ducks on any of the three levels to win a prize,” Sam said proudly looking at his many rubber ducks lined up.
You tried to contain your laughter as you saw his handmade sign, “Dunk...a duck? Sam, that’s such a stupid name!”
Wanda slapped your arm, “I think it’s adorable Sam.”
“Thank you, Wanda!” Sam exclaimed before giving you a glare, “And as for you, you only get three balls and have to hit three ducks for being an ass!”
“What?!” You said in disbelief, but you expected it. The relationship with you and Sam always came from a place of mutual teasing and knew each other’s boundaries. There was nothing quite like the feeling of someone willing to meet you blow for blow.
“You heard me! Now put your money where your mouth is L/N, knock those ducks down and win a prize for your lady!” Sam goaded with a playful smirk, “Or are you going to go home prizeless?”
That lit a fire in your belly as you knew he was trying to push your buttons, in front of your girlfriend no less, and you were not going to walk away empty handed. You slammed the money on the table without breaking eye contact with him, “Ball me.”
Sam set three balls in front of you as he stepped off to the side, “Three ducks Y/N…”
Eyeing the first duck dead center of the middle row you wound up and threw the ball hitting the duck straight on knocking it off.
Wanda let out a cheer jumping up and down giving you a boost of confidence seeing how happy she was at your throw.
One down. Two ducks to go.
Scanning to find another sitting duck you decided to go for one on the bottom row. Winding up you let the ball fly as another direct hit knocked the duck off.
“Yes baby!” Wanda cheered, giving you a kiss on the cheek as you felt your body swell with pride.
One duck left.
You looked for your last victim looking along the top row. Then you spotted a peculiar duck on the top right corner that had a familiar face glued on it’s head.
“Is that my face on a duck Wilson?” You said carefully, looking over at the man who happened to find the roof of the booth more interesting at that moment.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. All the ducks look the same to me,” Sam said feigning innocence.
Your mouth hung open in disbelief. He had purposefully put your face on a duck to piss you off and throw you off your game. For all you knew your face had been on that duck all day enticing others to knock it over.
Cocking your arm back you launched the ball at the duck with your face. The ball sailed what you thought was on target until it dropped left grazing the duck’s bill.
“Ohhhh too bad,” Sam sang out as he gathered the balls and began placing the ducks back up. “You could always try again. I’d love to take more of your money.”
Gritting your teeth at his teasing tone, you narrowed your eyes at him, “You would resort to something childish.”
A warm hand made its way to your lower back as you looked at Wanda meeting her vibrant green eyes. Instantly you felt calmer, Wanda’s reassuring touch reigning in your emotions. Putting more money on the table you grabbed the balls taking a deep breath.
“You can do it detka, take your time,” Wanda soothed.
You weren’t going to let Sam get you this time. That stuffed fox was coming home with you and Wanda no matter what.
One. Two. Three. All three ducks fell down in quick succession.
Wanda let out cheer as she threw her arms around your neck smothering your face in kisses as you let out a laugh.
Sam handed you the fox with a smile, “You know I had to have a little fun with you. Now I have to swap your face with Carol’s since she’s coming over with Natasha. But ALL the ducks are going to have her face on it.”
“You all can’t let her catch a break today can you?” Wanda sighed, shaking her head as she snatched the fox out of your hands.
“Hell no,” You and Sam said simultaneously.
Rolling her eyes Wanda grabbed your hand tucking the stuffed animal under her arm and pulled you along. You gave Sam a quick goodbye only for him to wiggle his eyebrows and mouth “you’re welcome.”
Weaving through the crowd Wanda tugged you along effortlessly. She pulled you towards an alleyway away from the street fair. Everyone faded away until it was just you and Wanda alone.
“This is where you finally kill me isn’t it?” You mused, leaning against a nearby wall, still holding her hand.
“You’re annoying,” she said, rolling her eyes while taking your other hand. She took a deep breath while looking at the ground. If you didn’t know better you’d think she was nervous. “I have something to tell you.”
You squeezed her hands, both urging her to continue and showing her you were there to support her no matter what.
“So,” Wanda said shyly as she looked up at you. “I’m officially retiring from Scarlet Fox and going to pursue doing my cookbook under my name.”
A huge smile came to your face as you hugged Wanda, “Oh my god congratulations! You’re doing it! This is so exciting!”
“Hold on there’s more,” Wanda laughed, stepping back from you with a warm smile. “Nat said I can return to writing romance novels anytime, but my plan to help the shop would be to do a book signing. With your shop having Scarlet Fox in person for the first and only time”
“Oh wow Wanda! I don’t know what to say,” You said, astonished that she would reveal her identity just to help you and the shop. “God, I love you so much. I know how much this means, for you to reveal your identity.”
Wanda bit her lip looking at you adoringly, “I love you too. I’m glad you are ok with it because Nat already put out a post on social media.”
You cocked an eyebrow as you brought out your phone looking for the post Wanda was talking about on Scarlet Fox’s page. She had announced she was retiring from writing romance novels and thanked her fans for all their support. The post went on saying there would be a one time only book signing but what made you tear up was how she described where it would be.
“‘I couldn’t think of a better place to say goodbye to writing about true love then the place where I met mine,’” Wanda quoted as she placed a hand on your face.
Tears filled your eyes as you noticed the picture that accompanied the post. It must have been taken by Nat when you weren’t paying attention. It was you sitting on top of the counter at the store with Wanda’s back to the camera, with her arms around your waist and your foreheads together.
“You’re so cheesy Maximoff,” you teased as you moved in to capture her lips in a soft kiss causing her to drop the prized fox on the ground.
She returned it eagerly, bringing her arms around your neck pulling you closer, pushing you into the wall. “Oh I have plenty more where that came from.”
Your hands travelled down to her rear as you urged her to jump up and wrap her legs around you which she happily obliged, “I also think we need to go over some of the scenes in your book.” You suggested, “For science.”
“Trust me baby, it’s going to be a long night for you,” Wanda husked, biting your earlobe, setting your entire body on fire. “How would you feel about bondage? You can have me tied up and at your mercy...”
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eeveelou · 22 hours ago
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some evening in springtime by delsicle
Relationship: Louis/Harry
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 20k
Status: Completed 
Fresh out of veterinary school, Louis moves to a sleepy small town in Texas to take over the local animal clinic. But his new life is quickly interrupted by a middle aged rancher with a bad leg and a mysterious past, who really needs Louis's yoga skills
Written for @1dcountryfest
Graphic by @berzerkshires
☕️ enjoyed the fic? buy me a coffee if you’d like ☕️
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neondiamond · 2 days ago
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Lights Out
3k | explicit | by neondiamond
Louis and Harry are decorating the Christmas tree when they run into some unfortunate electrical problems. Things turn steamy as they spend the rest of the night in candlelight.
Written as part of the @1dchristmasfest
Read it now on Ao3!
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imaginesandideas · a day ago
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the keys
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Happy Sinday! 🥳  I’ve been teasing y’all about this one long enough, so here it is!!
summary: You’ve had a bad day, so you go to the one place on Crockett Island that feels like home...
word count: 3,5 k-ish ooof
WARNINGS: A LOT of emotions and some confessions, slightly philosophical and existential themes, mentions of death, grief and nightmares, but most of all, it’s NSFW (18+ only pls) and poetic filth (also remember to wrap it before you tap it my darlings!)
p.s: Hassan is a switch and I take no criticism 🤭
~~~~~
 The day started off beautifully. 
You keep reminiscing that goodbye kiss. His fingers were keen but reserved, as if he was stopping himself, or the both of you for that matter, because it was already 9am on Friday. There were things for you to get done before the weekend, meetings to attend, people to talk with… the regular. 
“I- have- to- go-“ he purred into your lips with each intake of breath between rushed kisses. 
“Me-too- sheriff-“ you responded back emphasizing the last word with a smirk. 
You’re just as breathless as he is. Cause he makes you feel so many things, makes you smile even now when you think about that morning.
When he’s pulled back, a tired sigh escaped his lips.
“Wade is going to give me a lecture about being late again. And it’s all because of you, you know?”
 And though he was making a tough guy face again, all serious and frowned, you couldn’t help but get lost in the softness of his warm, smooth gaze. So full of devotion that you wish you could shrink yourself sometimes. 
 But the day went on. And pretty quickly it isn’t just memories of him that cloud your mind... 
Maybe it’s just one of these days, you think. Sometimes everything is too much, even the normal, repetitive tasks seem too hard to bear. 
And so you end up walking yourself to the El Shabbaz home instead of your own earlier than usually, not really hoping that he’ll be there. 
Well, you know for a fact that he’s at the school meeting, he’s been stressed about it all week, partially because he’s been having some problems with Ali lately. The boy is clearly going through some sort of a phase, normal at his age but still. It’s something new. For both of them. Especially after the loss of Ali’s beloved mother and Hassan’s soulmate…
  The key feels even heavier your hand now than it did when he first gave it to you. 
You didn’t get the whole idea at first, laughed it off, called him a party-killer to which he responded with a sincere „just in case”. 
But underneath it all, you felt grateful. For the trust he’s given you, for the fact that he’s opened up to you enough to actually let you in. For the fact that he literally gave you a key to his life on the island forgotten by everyone. 
Especially grateful, because today you feel like you have nowhere to go, despite having a house of your own nearby. And you crave the safety he provides you with.
 The house is empty upon your arrival. Looking around you notice Ali’s backpack tossed in the corner, so you assume he must be busy catching the last breaths of freedom somewhere, before his dad comes home and grounds his ass for good after today’s parent-teacher meeting.
   It feels natural to be surrounded by these walls by now. Wrapped in their familiar warmth, identical to the one Hassan carries with himself everyewhere he goes. In the firm but gentle way he walks, speaks, touches. With the attention and empathy he emanates.
 But you aren’t a visitor here anymore, no, you know which way to go, and almost instantly, you head towards Hassan’s bedroom. It’s only fair since you’re seeking a temporary shelter of his presence. Even if he’s not physically there. 
 Once inside, you smile softly. There are some clothes scattered here and there, some already folded. At his nightstand, some trinkets, memories locked inside objects. You note that he borrowed that book you were talking so much about from the local library. Even started reading it. The thought itself makes your heart grow a little fonder.
 Now, you don’t remember falling asleep but here you are, fully awake, fully clothed under a thick blanket that smells exactly like him. Α significant contrast to the feeling of cold sweat running down your back.
 It was a nightmare, still alive in your head and heart. An irrational one really, a mess of horror, gore and running. The details already become a blur as you blink away the darkness that surrounds you. But maybe sometimes it’s better like this, to not remember.
 When you pick up your phone it’s past 11pm already.
And at an instant, you hear him. Hear his footsteps on the squeaking wooden floors, his exhausted groans.
Then you hear him in the kitchen. The dishes as they’re being carefully put in the sink, most likely after he and Ali have had a late dinner. 
 You wonder if they prayed together before Ali went to sleep. There’s been some tension between them around this topic in the past few weeks, and you know just how much it affects Hassan as a father. It saddens him but he doesn’t want to fight his son, he wants to lift him up above everything else.
 And then you hear something you haven’t heard before, a melody. It’s a quiet, hushed one, but nevertheless it’s sweet to your ears. 
It never crossed your mind how his voice would sound if he sang, but hearing it makes him seem like a different person. The lyrics are foreign to you, maybe it’s not even English, you cannot tell from afar. But it’s so mellow, so smooth. Like you’re in a dream again, but this time it’s a good dream.
You close your eyes, wrapped in his smell, tone, his warmth.
His touch.
„Hey… oh love, you should’ve texted me, I wouldn’t make so much noise, wouldn’t wake you up.”
The man sat on the edge of his own bed is wrapping the covers slightly tighter around you, eyes wide and attentive, rough hands somehow even more careful. And he’s worried, you see it in the wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead when the nightstand lamp finally illuminates his face.
„Hassan.” You sit up suddenly, arms hardly enveloping his broad frame. He smells like cigarette smoke and something peppery, like herbs he brews for a better sleep. The hairs from his beard scratch the top of your head briefly before he plants a prolonged kiss there. His embrace calms you down, it always does. And still, your voice trembles ever so slightly as you speak again, this time into his chest. „I just had a terrible day and thought I’d stop by. Wanted to wait for you but I think I fell asleep, and now you’re here.”
„Shhh, it’s alright, I know… I know how it feels…” He whispers with a pained sigh. Both of you inhale deeply in an almost meditative manner, and exhale nearly simultaneously. You chuckle at that and he smiles to himself.
„You used the key.”
He’s smiling even wider now, proud like a lion. You can’t see it, still glued to his chest, but you feel it in the way it puffs out with pride underneaths your fingertips, in the way his voice rings over your head.
Slowly, you crane your neck to look him in the eyes.
He’s so smug about it, with that damn smirk on his face.
„Yeah I did. And what about it?”
A dry chuckle.
„What about it? Well, a ‘thank you’ would be nice for starters?”
But your lips are at his first and he doesn’t mind, instead he plays along your little game. His hands are slowly becoming greedy as they glide over your sides, groping with each confirmatory moan that leaves your mouth. 
Your fingers desperately try to reach his skin but it’s like his clothes    purposefully stand in your way, effectively shielding him from you.
You want him out of that damn shirt, you want to rip it off and feel him instead.
Suddenly Hassan pulls away. Both of you pant as he warily turns around to peek at the door. Always a father. And it looks so hot on him, it makes you want him inside you even more. 
„You drive me fucking insane.” He breathes out. 
„I know.” Of course you’re teasing him, provoking the reaction you desire the most. 
 He knows, he’s smart and you’re more than aware of this. He could leave you right now and save his pride, but that same pride won’t let it slide just like that, not when he has you at his grasp. So close he can feel your heart beating nearly in the same rhytm as his. 
Beautiful like a dream, with disheveled hair and heated skin.
And when he looks as you like this, you just know. 
It takes you forever, even longer than that evening, hell, longer than that whole damned day. Cause it took hours on hours on hours of building each others’ trust. But it’s out at the speed of light and yet it seems like eternity almost.
„I think I love you.” You whisper.
Hassan stops breathing for a second or two, or so it appears. His mouth agape but you catch a glipse of sparkle in his eyes. 
„You- think?!”
No, he doesn’t even give you a chance to add anything and instead knocks the air out of your lungs as he launches forward, locking lips with yours again. And this time it’s more fervent, moving down to your neck, teeth worshiping your skin with slow but violent markings.
 And then, lower, but only when you nod at him in consent as you lay down. Right now you’d do anything just to make him go faster, just to cut your bated breath short. 
Desperately, you grip the longer strands of hair atop his head and he hums into your freshly uncovered hip. 
 He keeps dreaming of your skin, have been ever since he’s touched you for the first time. And every time he gets a chance, like a starved man, he feasts. Feeds of the feel of your skin, off your touch. Mouth latches onto the flesh of your thighs, and he nips and sucks, leaves a trail of kisses down your legs while removing the oh-so irritating pieces of clothing along the way. When he sits up again it’s only so he can quickly get out of his own clothes completely. 
And to admire you. Your perfectly carved form reflecting in his eyes.
And you too cannot help but just stare, in complete awe of him, of the things he does to your head.
Brows furrowed in an alluring way. Mouth curling into a smirk when your eyes descend over his heaving abdomen. Eyes so dark you could swim in their night abyss.
“Stop staring, or I won’t be able to stop myself any longer.”
His voice is almost authoritative now and you straighten your leg in an attempt to reach him somehow.
“Then don’t.” You tease. And it’s already too late to turn back.
Hassan shoots you a scolding look and you groan, helpless as ever. He’s about to ravish you whole, even if he keeps acting that he’s taking his sweet time with you. 
In no time he crawls in between your parted legs. 
“Hassan! Oh-”
You’re trapped, a moaning mess trying to shimmy away and out of the reach of his puffed lips and thick tongue, the sharp scratches of his soft beard on your delicate skin. It’s like his face was sculpted to please. To please you. Now he just wants to hear a whine, a cry. A plea.
 Hassan wants you on the edge, begging, praising him. 
He needs to see you break right in front of him for mere moments that feel like a whole eternity. An eternity within and with you.
„Please…”
It’s an unspoken confirmation. He earned it.
He’s doing a fucking good job.
And you just look so spent and ethereal when he looks up at you from beneath a thick line of his eyelashes… 
Yet again, he climbs up, stopping at your sternum to place another loving kiss there before he glances at your elated face. When he raises on his stretched arms, you don’t even have to beg again. 
 Your whole body tenses for a second or two, eyes wide open as he enters you steadily.
 He’s thick and veiny. Fucking delightful to say the least. You’ve been with Hassan plenty of times, on numerous occassions, but each time it’s bliss. And each time it makes the air stop in your lungs. 
Your brain is filled to the brim with chants of his name, clouded with pleasure, till it leaves your body with tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.
“Oh God- Hassan-“
He, on the other hand, is feeling ecstatic, as he pants like an ancient idol in raging fury. Skin glowing with sweat and whole body rhythmically shaking and tensing at the same time, with each calculated thrust.
“Come on sugar.”
 Yet again he finds himself lost in you. The entirely of you. Surrounded by your tightening walls and soft pieces of sentences, moaned repeatedly into the air. They’re being pulled out of you with the sheet force of his hips snapping into yours, and his chest grows with pride. 
„Baby- oh Hassan, p-please”
The sheer thought of filling you makes him feral. Gripping your hips the man speeds up, following your moans and gasps, screams silenced with the force of your teeth biting into your lips.
 He wants to worship you, please you forever, he thinks then. Had been thinking about it even before he’s given you the key.
It was so easy to fall for you and it still blows his mind. 
 Suddenly you gasp and he catches it last minute. Cause every time he can, he does everything in his power to watch you at the gates of your bliss. He drinks it with his dark, hungry eyes. The way you squirm, how you pant and moan, how your body shakes involuntarily. He sees that light in your eyes and comes too, with a shudder and a line of deep, throaty moans that make your walls twitch again.
“Oh fuck.”
You feel everything and nothing all the same. You’re not even sure who said it first, maybe you just repeated it in your head, or maybe you both did between the rapidly taken breaths. 
 When he pulls out you miss his closeness already. The pleasure is just one part of it all really, cause you miss that intimacy, that weave you create together. As if words, languages can’t bind you two enough, as if there is more. 
  Sometimes in your conversations Hassan mentions fate, how it affects our lives whether we believe in some sort of god or not. He says that some things are inevitable, like change or loss. Like grief.
Same goes with people. They come into our lives for different reasons. Some of them are destined to change our lives, some are destined to teach us. About loss, forgiveness, patience, joy. And all of them, all of these relationships will be interwoven into the fabric of our being. Deep down you wonder if he tells you that on purpose, because he believes that something just like that led you to each other.
 That afterthought keeps coming back to you whenever you’re together. Even now, as the mattress dips under his weight by your side, and you feel like maybe all of it, the lows and the ups, were meant to led you both here.
  And maybe you do want him to remember what you impulsively uttered, right before your bodies became one yet again…
“I’m glad I gave you that key.”
He exclaims out of blue, pulling you out of your thoughts. And smiles right in your face, all smug like the sun itself, like he was right all along. And most likely, he was. He always fucking is.
You snort half-slyly. 
“Of course you’re glad. I warmed your sheets for free. You’re welcome.”
“Free? Come on, I paid you back with all the interest.” He frowns first, but sighs right after when he notices that you’re trying to stifle a laugh at his genuine offence. 
 He cups your jaw in his rough hands then, and you inch closer instantly taking the opportunity to climb on top of him.
You’re always so damn difficult, but that’s fine. Nothing he cannot handle. 
Though it doesn’t help that you look so beautiful in the soft light cast by his nightstand lamp... Maybe they still have them at that one store from the mainland. He should probably buy another one now, for symmetry’s sake. And for you too.
Cause he could watch you all day in this damn light. Your illuminated skin feels soft underneath his fingertips, curves defined by time and the way you’re positioned. Sat on top of him, like a sculpture just for him to admire. Like he got the best seat at a venue. 
 He never admitted it out loud but when you’re above him... it actually might be his favourite place to be. It makes him hard all over again, but there’s still time for that.
  In moments like these he wishes he could grasp you whole, make himself bigger just so he could embrace you completely, hide your sensibility from the cruel world you were both born into. He’s been through a lot in his life, and he knows you can handle just as much, but still he’d do anything and more to protect both Ali and you.
  Your more delicate fingers are a big contrast to his rather sturdy facial features when your hands reach to caress his face.
In your eyes, he looks regal, skin and hair are like peppered with threads of time and experience. He laughs when you tell him that he’s like „fine wine”. Mainly cause it’s cheesy, and he doesn’t really believe it most of the time. But you know the smile that comes after you say it.
He’s… happy with you. You make him feel better about life and himself, even if he didn’t admit it to you yet.
 Feeling goosebumps on your skin when he draws mindless shapes on your back he decides to try his luck.
“Did you really mean it?”
Like a thunder, it rips through your spine. He heard your hushed confession. He remembered it.
“What do you mean?”
Play dumb, your mind prompts you. But really you just want him to say it back. So you know everything he’s done for you, everything he’s ever whispered into your hair, into your brain, was real. That you didn’t dream it. 
With a long inhale beforehand, he speaks in a low tone.
„That you love me.”
 The reality is simple as it is. Both of you crave confirmation, an assurance. That none of this is going away, that the other is just as much in love. 
 For Hassan it’s harder to admit out loud. His thoughts are often dark, he’s already experienced love and loss, he feels grief everyday. And he didn’t expect happiness again. In reality, he’s been mentally preparing himself for a lonesome and grim aging full of regret.
And yet, life slowly becomes brighter with you. It gets easier each day and there’s no denying of that. He wants you in his life.
You whisper back shakily.
„Yeah. I do.”
His lips curl into a small smile. A smirk almost.
„You just want a gratuitous fuck every once in a while, that’s what it is.”
This old fucking bastard. You’re ready to stand up but he sits up and locks you in place, with his arms intertwined behind your back.
„Hey, hey! Look at me! I was- well... trying to be funny like you. And besides, you know I would never mind even if you did. Especially since you always come for me so beautifully.” 
You groan looking away, only it’s very difficult when he starts assaulting your chest with those plump lips of his. Kicking yourself mentally for the moan that just left your throat on its own (to his clear satisfaction), you give in and lock your gaze with his once more. 
 And it’s like seeing affection personified. Even his brows, with that bloody hot cut going through one of them, look apologetic and soft. Only for you.
“I know I’m no fun most of the time, but that’s why I’ve got you.” He speaks slightly louder now, in his signature honey dipped tone that makes your thighs tremble. In fact he has a firm grip on them right now, relishing every little reaction of your body to his words. Feeling what’s invisible to the naked eye. 
“And I want you to know, that I think…” A deep breath and he looks into your eyes again. “I love you too.”
You eyes well up, but so do his. Fingers tearing through the dense forest of his beard, you cup his jaw and lean forward slowly. The kiss itself is like a stamp now, like your signatures combined. An oath signed by your pledges.
Suddenly he pulls away and both of you groan in dismay.
„Okay no crying on my watch.” His fingers swiftly gather the tears that alredy started reaching your cheeks. 
Next, you feel him shift underneath you, like he’s getting impatient.
Truthfully speaking he is, and so are you. He’s been on your mind almost all day, and now you know that the feelings have been mutual all along.
As you shift over his lap, Hassan growls. 
„You want me again?”
You decide that you love it when he speaks to you in this tone. Authority dripping like lliquor. Savory and sweet. Sharpened by cigarette smoke and peppermint. And yet, rich as milk. 
„I always do.” His cock twitches between your legs at your response. When you move over him, positioning yourself on your knees, spreading yourself open, right above the already swollen head, he swallows with a clear bob of his Adam’s apple. „But this time - it’s my treat.”
~~~~~
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writer-in-theory · 10 hours ago
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🚪 🩹
an opportunity for something other than sadness HAHA
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Prompt: 🚪 showing up at the other's door begging for comfort, 🩹 tending to each others’ wounds
Summary: After Spencer goes completely silent while on a case, Reader is shocked to find him standing at their doorstep in the middle of the night.
Category: Hurt/Comfort
Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader
Content Warnings: Light descriptions of injuries, Descriptions of the LDSK ep
Word Count: 2.2k
A/N: you said here's a chance for no sadness and i said "not quite". it's comfort though!! it's also unedited but i hope you like it anyway 👀
Masterlist
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
It’s a scene that’s played time and time again in movies: the love interest shows up at the door of the main character begging for the safety they can’t find in anyone else. It’s the moment the two characters realize they’re in love, the moment they realize that everything will be alright in the end.
The thing about it all is that movies are often full of shit, so when you wake up at 3 am to frantic knocking on your door all you’re thinking about is all of the dangerous possibilities hiding behind the door. Spencer had told you all about the tricks killers often make to lure in their unsuspecting victims, more often than not preying on the kindness of those individuals. It was the one and only time Spencer ever seemed upset by your overwhelming kindness. Don’t open the door, his voice seemed to ring through your mind, nothing good happens at 3 am.
Still, like a moth to a flame you were drawn in. Sliding out of bed and padding out to the living room where the knocks had stopped. Just as your hand was reaching to press against the door, a familiar voice rang out. “Y/N? It’s me.” And when you didn’t immediately open the door he added, “Spencer, I mean. It’s Spencer.”
It was a voice you hadn’t heard in several days—the honey-sweet voice that gently explained complex concepts until you were lulled asleep. It was the voice that now sent pure relief surging through your body and caused your hands to fly forward, fumbling with the lock as you swung the door open.
When Spencer had first told you that he was recruited into the FBI, you’d been terrified. It had been the one serious moment that nearly ended your relationship completely. He hadn’t seen it at first, the crippling fear of what happened to field agents. It had been far too easy to picture him, your Spencer, throwing himself in front of innocent victims to take the blows meant for them.
“Please talk to me,” Spencer tried one night after you’d unsuccessfully tried to hide the rising anxiety in your chest. “I don’t have to go. We can stay here, I can apply for a position at CalTech.”
It was a sweet image—pure bliss here in the city you’d found a home in for years. The two of you, finally choosing to move in with one another and dancing around the kitchen as you got ready for work in the morning. He’d always be home to cuddle you in bed and you’d never have to hold him as he cried out from painful memories that haunted his sleep. It would be easier, but it wouldn’t be what he truly wanted.
“Of course you do,” you corrected, sitting up fully from your spot on the couch, shoving your hands between your knees so he wouldn’t notice the way they shook. “And I’ll be right there with you, I promise. I’m just...”
“What is it?”
“I’m scared.” The words stole the stage, inflating and pressing against every wall until there was no space left for either of you. “I’m scared of you getting hurt, and I’m scared I’ll lose you before you were ever really mine. I want to marry you someday, Spencer, and I hate to think we won’t get that ending.”
There was so much love in his eyes it might’ve scared you if it were anyone else. This was Spencer Reid, though, who had shyly asked if he could hold your hand on your first date. This was Spencer, who’d you’d held in bed as he admitted this was the kind of love he never really thought he’d get, the kind reserved only for books. And this was Spencer, who never once made you think his intentions were anything but pure.
You supposed then it shouldn’t have been surprising when he’d moved from his spot on the couch, kneeling in front of you and taking your hands with gentle touches from equally shaky fingers.
“Spencer,” you’d tried, hand flying up to physically hold in the sob that scratched its way up your throat. You forced it down, choking on it as the man you loved dropped to one knee in front of you.
“Then marry me, Y/N,” he spoke instead, tumbling over the words as he tried to rush them out. “We can have that ending.”
“Spencer,” you sighed, squeezing his hands and never once looking away from him, begging whoever would listen to make sure he didn’t take this the wrong way. “I meant someday, not now.”
And oh, what you’d give to take it all back. To suck up the words and keep them stuffed away forever so they would never shatter the lovesick expression on Spencer’s face. You watched the cracks appear—eyes shining but still looking at you, daring you to believe he was okay.
“I promise you a someday, Spencer Reid,” you told him, leaning forward so you could press a kiss to his lips. “I’m not asking you to marry me now, I’m asking you to stay alive so we can have that someday.”
“I can do that,” he reassured you, chasing your lips for another kiss and laughing as it ended with your teeth clacking together. “I promise.”
And so far, it had worked. Spencer moved out to Virginia, and the second your job would allow you would too. While you understood Spencer’s job was dangerous, you hadn’t yet had to bear witness to the physical effects of it. Never once had it been so bad that you’d been faced with the crippling fear you’d first felt upon him getting the job.
That is, until four days ago when he went completely radio silent. Though he wasn’t fond of technology, he had always sent you a goodnight message while he was away on cases, if only to let you know that he’d made it through the day safe and sound. Missing a day or two sometimes meant he was so wrapped up in the case he hadn’t thought of it, but after four days it felt like your world was beginning to split and crack around you.
Suddenly, it had been all-too-easy to dredge up those same unwanted images as before; wondering what would happen if a call came from anyone but Spencer, wondering how quickly you could get to Illinois should you need.
But here he was, stood at your doorstep and looking like he’d been through hell and back. Bruises shaded his entire left cheek a deep blue while a cut caused that same side of his lips to swell a little. More than that, he stood with his shoulders tucked inward, hands up in front of his middle and picking at his fingers. He still had his go-bag slung over his shoulder alongside his messenger bag, body tilted slightly to the side betraying how heavy the weight was on his shoulder.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” No, clearly he wasn’t. You took hold of his hands only to pull him inside, shutting and locking the door behind you. “What happened to you?”
The moment was obvious. Within seconds, Spencer’s features were falling, face twisting up from the sort of pain few ever truly experience, lower lip quivering as he fought the tears. “Hey, hey, hey,” you cooed, immediately stepping forward to wrap your arms around him, not expecting the strangled cry that slipped from him. “Spencer, please talk to me,” you urged, eyes flicking up to watch the way his stared off to the side.
“Can we not talk about it?” he asked, voice small and wavering. And you hated it all the same, wishing that you could know who had hurt your love. Still, you nodded and led him up to the bed you’d just been laying in. He’d sat on the edge of it and let you slowly slip his shirt off, looking away as the rest of his injuries were revealed. Mottled bruises wrapped around his side and abdomen, running from belly button to chest. The sight alone was enough to bring tears to your eyes, wondering how an unsub had been able to hurt him so horribly.
You’d promised not to talk about it. So, like on autopilot, your hands continued down to slip off his belt and pants. You stepped away from him only to rummage through his go-bag for his favorite pair of sweatpants and an old CalTech sweatshirt, helping him into both. And when it was done, the two of you curled around each other in bed.
Cuddles had become a staple in your relationship. Where words weren’t always enough, the two of you could rely on gentle touches and loving embraces. So you held onto Spencer, hands ghosting over skin and lips pressing soft kisses into bruises, hoping to replace all of the hateful touches with loving ones. You couldn’t do anything to ease the pain of them, but you hoped you could distract him from it all.
Your lips stilled against his chest as Spencer let in a sharp inhale, his eyes squeezing shut as he worked up the courage to say what he needed to. “I thought I was going to die.”
Though you had a feeling it was coming, the words hit with a sharp sting straight to your heart. There was a moment, no matter how brief, in the past four days that almost took Spencer away forever. Was it while you were standing in your apartment, cooking breakfast and dancing around to your favorite music? Or was it in the split second of anger you’d felt one night, lonely and wondering why Spencer didn’t have the time for you?
“What happened?” you asked, barely getting the words out around the knot in your throat.
“Hotch and I were held hostage by the unsub. He was threatening the other hostages, we had to do something,” Spencer explained, eyes finding interest in the ceiling above you two. “Hotch had an ankle holster, and he knew I could reach it if there was an opening. So he made one.”
Not liking where this was going, it took everything in you to stay silent.
“He pretended to turn on me, ridiculing me for being weak. I know it was all fake but, it still keeps playing back in my head.”
This was somehow worse than anything your brain could have conjured up on its own. Images of Spencer sacrificing himself to an unsub were replaced with his own boss, the man he’d looked up to since joining the unit, using all of his worst insecurities against him. “Spencer, did Hotch do this to you?” you gasped, sure your face was twisted into absolute horror. This was the man who was supposed to protect your love, not beat him until there were more parts of him bruised than not.
“I got the gun. I had to shoot the unsub so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else. The whole time after, I should’ve been upset about that. I killed someone, and all I could think about what how I almost died instead.”
“That sounds like a pretty normal reaction, Spence,” you whispered, trying to stay as strong as possible for the vulnerable man wrapped around you right now. “You can’t beat yourself up for being scared.”
“I was scared I would die without getting to marry you,” he admitted, the words echoing around your bedroom and through your brain.
It seemed like an easy decision then, wrapped up in Spencer with no intentions of leaving his side until he was recovered. In the morning you’d take care of him, rubbing antibacterial on the split of his cheek so it wouldn’t get infected, continuing to press kisses into each bruise until Spencer no longer felt the painful fake betrayal of his mentor.
For now, you’d pull back from him just enough to look into those amber eyes and say, “Then marry me.”
And it would be his turn to react in shock, eyebrows raising impossibly high on his head and lips parting. “Y/N?”
“I mean it,” you told him, finally allowing your lips to wobble and the tears to spill. “I can’t go another minute not being yours. Spencer Reid, I want our someday.”
He was crying too, a wide smile finally replacing the deep hurt that had been entrenched deep in his features. It wouldn’t go away completely—no, this was the kind of wound that would stick around for a while. You’d be there though, always ready to remind him of how loved he was.
“Let’s have our someday, Y/N.”
•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•
General Taglist:
@samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthewgraygublerlover @silverhetdanes @ssawonderland @safespacespence @shemarmooresfedora @reidsbookclub @alexontheinternet @katymarie @mrsobrien888
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fallout-mars · 2 days ago
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hi um so i wrote a bughead thing:
hiding
a season 5 secret relationship au
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dear-galileo · a day ago
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blushing all the way home
happy first day of buddie week! thanks to @dailybuddie for setting up this awesome week :) 
these fics will also be posted on my ao3, which is deargalileo
Day 1: Did I make you blush? | Rivals
Buck is very pleased when he discovers how easily he can make Eddie blush. Eddie is not as pleased. 
2.5k words
read it here on ao3
Considering the long shifts that the 118 team pulls, and the amount of time outside of work that they spend together, it is incredible to think that they have never run out of things to talk about. 
It’s incredible until you meet Evan Buckley, and then you realize that it is more impossible to reach the end of random facts that he stores, rather than running out of things to say. 
The team is used to this, and most of the time allow themselves to get pulled into a random conversation about the history of a chef’s hat (technically called a toque, and the pleats in the hat represents the chef’s level of experience), or discussing how the odds of getting a royal flush in poker are exactly 1 in 649,740, which led to a station-wide, multi-day poker championship.
So when Hen and Chimney entered the locker room and found Buck furiously reading something off of his phone, they weren’t surprised when he showed them a website that boasted “39 Fun Flirting Facts”. 
“Do I even want to know what instigated this?” Hen asks, settling on one of the benches.
“Studies show that flirtatious people have whiter blood cell counts, which improves health and immunity,” Buck recites in lieu of a real answer. 
“Oh good, so you’ll live forever,” Eddie came out from the showers, pulling a t-shirt over his head. 
“So the good ol’ Buckley charm made it through up to Buck point one-oh- what version are you on?”
“Hey, Hen! Did you know the word lesbian comes from the Greek island Lesbos, where the poet Sappho wrote her poetry about her female lovers?” Hen rolls her eyes, but nods obligingly. 
“Yes, I did know that, Buckaroo. Literally every lesbian on Earth knows that. Thank you for bestowing your wisdom onto me.” 
Eddie comes to sit down next to Buck, trying to read his phone over his shoulder. 
“Some of these has to be bullshit. Women are more likely to give out their phone numbers on sunny days as opposed to cloudy days?” Hen nods in agreement while Chimney sticks his finger up. 
“No, I’m pretty sure that one is correct! Something about hormo-“
“Finish that sentence and I’ll have Maddie kick you in the crotch,” Hen interrupts, leveling Chim with a stern look. He smiles sheepishly and goes back to reorganizing his locker.  
“Since ancient Greece, the apple has been a symbol of love. They believed that apples represented love because it lasted so long after being picked.” 
“That one’s kind of sweet,” Chim says. “Think Maddie would want an apple for Valentine’s Day?” 
Buck went over to his locker, riffling through while the others chatted amongst each other. 
“Karen and I both tried to get Valentine’s Day off for next year, you know, ask in advance, but she can’t, so we might do a weekend trip sometime in February to make up for it.”
“Ugh, that’s two months away,” Eddie groans. “Let us get through Christmas first, please.” They all chuckle.
“Got any Christmas facts for us, Buck?” Chim asks, before Buck slams his locker shut and plops down right next to Eddie. 
“Here.” Out of nowhere, Buck is holding a red apple out towards Eddie. “I think we could live apple-ly ever after.” 
Eddie immediately felt his face go up in flames as Hen and Chim dissolved into a mess of laughter. Buck was clearly trying to hold back a smile as well, but he was looking so deeply into Eddie’s eyes that Eddie couldn’t look away.   
“Oh my god, did I make you blush?” Buck finally broke, eyes flickering all around his face. 
Eddie rubs at his neck, as if he could wipe away the pink tint rapidly rising. “You are!” Buck crows, practically vibrating on the bench next to him. “See? I’ve got game!” 
“Buck, you once stole a firetruck to have sex with someone, no one here doubted that you have game,” Hen says, but Buck ignores her. Eddie bats Buck’s finger from where he was trying to poke his cheek away. The apple sat long forgotten on the bench between them.
“Shut up,” Eddie wiped at his face before standing up. “I think I hear Cap calling me,” and he is out of the locker room before anyone can point out that Bobby is in his office completing paperwork. 
“Not that watching that wasn’t incredibly interesting,” Hen says, standing up herself. “But I am going to go do literally anything else.” 
“Hey, that sounds like a great idea, I’ll go do that too with you,” Chimney pipes in, and before he knows it, Buck is alone in the locker room, but even that doesn’t take the smile off of his face. After a few more moments pass, he scoops up the apple and takes a big bite out of it. “Tastes like love to me.”
The rest of the day is like a game to Buck- and Eddie knows that even if he tried he couldn’t resist. The two are usually always tied up together, shoulders or knees knocking as they sit at the dinner table, opting to sit next to each other on the couch in between calls rather than taking their own loveseats, and always, always, having each others backs. 
But now, Buck is doing it with intent. When he hovers behind Eddie while Eddie is restocking the ambulance, he knows that Buck is fully aware of what he’s doing to him. Buck’s hot breath on the back of Eddie’s neck would be enough to get a rise out of him, but the gentle caress of Buck’s hand on the back of Eddie’s elbow is nearly enough to make him go weak in the knees. 
Buck takes every sign of any color in Eddie’s cheeks as a win, with frequent reports back to the team. Eddie is pretty sure Hen knows what’s going on in Eddie’s mind, if the sympathetic looks she sends him from across the room mean anything.
“Eddie, Eddie, come here,” Buck chants, dragging him away from the truck after Eddie spent ten minutes cleaning just one tire. “I have to show you something.” 
“What?” Even though he’s a bit annoyed by the game, Eddie can’t deny the thrill that goes up his spine every time Buck lingers this close, or when their eyes lock in the intense way that they do. “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!” Buck changes his chant as Bobby walks out onto the main floor. Eddie dutifully allows himself to be dragged along in Buck’s grasp. 
“Are you still torturing Eddie?” Bobby asks without looking up from his clipboard. 
“Maybe.” Buck answers completely seriously before charging ahead. “But I want to show you this cool trick. Look, look, look.” 
Eddie liked these types of days. When the calls didn’t burden them, follow them back to the station and then to their homes. And Buck helps with that, even if he doesn’t realize it. His energy was so infectious, that he couldn’t even fathom someone being around him and not immediately enamored. 
His mind briefly flickers to the times where Buck wasn’t in the station, couldn’t be, and how foreign laughter became during those times. 
Eddie physically shakes his head, banishing those thoughts from his head as Buck pulls him to stand in front of Bobby. 
Bobby looks at them, trying to act like he isn’t amused already. “So?” 
“I learned this in middle school.” Buck starts, which Eddie privately thinks that is a terribly ominous prelude, before turning to Eddie. “Want to play a game?” 
“Uh- what game?” 
“It’s easy!” Buck is so bright- sometimes it is simply too painful to look at him directly, but Eddie lets himself bask in the warmth. “It’s called Counting Shoulders.” He turns back to face Bobby, so his shoulder is pressed right against Eddie’s. Buck is on Eddie’s left side, an unspoken agreement about their arrangement since they became partners. 
First he brings his right arm up to his own shoulder, pressing down on it in an exaggerated way. “One,” he moves onto his right shoulder, repeating the motion. “Two,” Buck then seamlessly transitions to Eddie’s left shoulder. “Three,” and before Eddie can process it, Buck’s arm is hanging around his shoulder in a familial, affectionate way. “Four! Good job!”
Buck doesn’t move his arm from Eddie’s shoulder, and a beat passes with him smiling, obviously very pleased with himself.
The moment is broken by Bobby snorting loudly, and dropping his head into his hand. “And that worked for you, in middle school? he asked.
“It’s working for me now!” Buck cried, gesturing to what Eddie knew had to be the furious blush that was across his face. “Look!”
Eddie could only face palm just as Bobby had, hoping his hands could hide his face from everyone in the station.  “You are insufferable,” he says just loud enough for Buck to hear him, but that only makes Buck laugh.
Eddie’s saving grace was the alarm ringing, but even then Buck’s arm lingered just a moment longer before it was gone and they were heading into the trucks.
Eddie was thankful that it was only a 10 hour shift- after today, going home would feel like a small mercy. His skin might feel like it was burned for it’s state of constant heat, thanks to a certain blond who’s name rhymes with Fuck.
Speaking of Fuck- he means Buck- he was following Eddie into the locker room. Hen and Chim were on the shift for a couple more hours, so they bid their goodbyes after the last call.
Even though he had gone through the constant teasing all day, he still felt nothing but relaxed when they walked into the locker room.
“Picking up Chris from school today?” Buck asks, opening up his locker and pulling out his change of clothes. “He will be excited to see you.”
“More like he will be excited to see his Buck,” Eddie corrected. “Movie night, remember?” Buck beamed in the way that he always did when he was referred to as Christopher’s Buck.
“As if I could forget!”
There was a lull in the conversation as they stripped out of their clothes. Eddie had his clean t-shirt over his head when he heard a low whistle coming from about three feet away.
Eddie rips his head through the shirt, glaring at Buck. “Did you just wolf whistle at me?”
“How could I not! Those abs, dude!”
“Can you really call me dude while flirting with me?”
“Clearly I can.” As if to prove his point, Buck let his eyes stare down Eddie from head to toe.
Eddie couldn’t miss a minute of it, the way that Buck looks at his eyes, the way his eyes lingered over his chest, and by the time that Buck’s eyes dropped lower, Eddie twists up his dirty shirt and snapped it out at Buck.
Buck shrieked and jumped out of the way, but he was already laughing.
“You are making dinner tonight,” Eddie tried to say in a menacing voice, but it clearly didn’t work when Buck just smiled fondly and rolled his eyes.
“Wasn’t I going to do that already?” Eddie snapped his shirt out one last time, for good measure.
“Shut up.”
Chris was, as predicted, very excited to be picked up by Buck. Technically, Eddie was there too, but he sat in the truck while Buck leaned on the outside.
Chris had excitedly explained to all of his teachers that “his Buck” was there to pick him up, which Eddie thought was going to make Buck cry.
It didn’t, and once Christopher was buckled into the truck, they launched into a rambunctious conversation about Christopher’s day at school.
At home, Eddie got Christopher started on homework while Buck puttered around.
At some point over the years that they had known each other Buck and Eddie have built a domestic routine in Eddie’s home.
Eddie didn’t mind. He liked it a lot, in fact. He liked Buck fitting into his home, Eddie’s home becoming Buck’s home, too.
Buck handled most of dinner, as he did most nights that he spent at the Diaz’s. Chris helped him mix the meatloaf mixture, and watched it slowly cook in the oven.
After Chris helped set the table, Eddie had him sit down.
“Are you sure there’s nothing else I could help with?” Eddie tries, not for the last time. Buck hip checks him, bumping him out of the way of the oven.
“No. I’m worried you will blow up the oven by looking at it too hard.” Christopher giggles, but Eddie lets himself be pushed out of the way with little fight.
“Hot stuff, hot stuff!” Buck crows, pulling the meatloaf out of the oven. “Move out of the way, hot stuff!” He hipped checked Eddie again, before safely putting the meatloaf down on the table.
That sent Chris into hysterics again, and Eddie vaguely had the notion of putting his head into his hands and screaming.
Instead he looked at Buck. Buck was looking like a kid who had just gotten away with stealing cookies from the cookie jar, just pleased as punch.
“You are so stupid,” he tries to say quietly, but Chris oooh’ed softly, so it wasn’t quiet enough. “Christopher, please turn around.”
“Aw, dad!”
Eddie moves to Chris’s chair, and moved it so he was facing the wall, sending Christopher into another fit of giggles.
As quickly as he could, Eddie moves back to Buck, stepping into his space and crowding him back against the counter.
“I seriously can’t take this anymore,” Eddie whispers before pulling Buck into a kiss.
It wasn’t tender, or heated, and was cut into by Christopher’s nonstop giggles from ten feet away, but Eddie couldn’t bring himself to care.
Buck was smiling into the kiss, Eddie could practically taste the laughter on his lips, but he was so giving, so warm, and Eddie knew that he could lose himself in those lips easily.
He forces himself to pull away, even when Buck tries to follow his lips.
“Ew! You guys kissed!” Christopher- who had managed to wiggle his chair back around- yells, breaking them out of their moment.
Buck laughs and presses one more kiss to Eddie’s lips before stepping it away. “I had it coming, Superman. I was basically asking for it all day.”
As Eddie sat down across Buck at the dinner table, watching him serve up Christopher with food before himself, Eddie let himself smile. Buck caught his eye and smiled back, and gently tangled their feet together underneath the table.
“He was,” Eddie finally muses. “Your Buck is a pretty bad flirt.”
“Hey! It worked, didn’t it?” Buck retorts. Eddie rolls his eyes, but he had to nod.
“I guess it did.”
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nocturnecreates · a day ago
Text
lost in your current like a priceless wine
AO3
Guillermo takes a break on the roof of the house to just pretend, for one moment, that he's been turned. But a certain relentless vampire shoulders his way into his quiet time.
CW for implied assumption of suicidal intent. Otherwise this is just pure self indulgent fluff and pining.
____
Guillermo loved clear nights, especially in the summer time. Buffeted by the hot winds as he perched up on the tallest part of the roof, he could stare up at all the stars and pretend he was already a vampire. Strong. Powerful. Free.
He closed his eyes, breathing in the muggy air and rocking back slightly. He could imagine the smell of the humans around him. Mild but inviting, his powerful muscles ready to spring from the rooftop and chase down his prey. A true hunter.
Maybe those kinds of thoughts should disturb him. Who dreams of being a perfect hunter? But in the past decade, he’d seen too much death to count. And maybe he’d grown just a little too comfortable with it. It was one of the few constants in his life, after all.
…Okay maybe that was a little too disturbing. Even for him.
He breathed in again and opened his eyes, trying to focus in on the feeling of power he’d just had, and not the uncomfortable feeling of guilt that had started to creep in. He casually glanced towards the door leading back inside, digging his fingers further into the shingles on the ridge as he leaned back further-
-and almost toppled backwards entirely when his eyes met Nandor’s.
“Holy sh-“ He yanked himself upwards, his heels digging into the shingles below. He righted himself quickly, though couldn’t help the deep red his face turned as he saw amusement on Nandor’s face. He cleared his throat. “Master what- uh, what are you doing up here?”
“Thought I would go for a fly,” He said, nodding up to the night sky above. “Why are you up here, Guillermo? I believe a fall from this height would kill you, yes?”
Guillermo shrugged, looking away towards the street below. “I guess it would.”
“You… are not thinking of doing so, are you?”
Guillermo blinked and shook his head, giving Nandor a confused look. “What? No, of course not, Master.”
“Right. Of course. Very good.” He paused, gesturing vaguely at the air as if he was making some sort of point. He then strode forward, balancing perfectly on the ridge of the roof before dropping down to sit next to Guillermo. He kept several feet between them, but Guillermo felt jittery just the same.
“What do you do up here then? There is not anything up here of interest to you.”
“I- well,” He started, somehow turning even redder than before. As Nandor stared, he pulled at his shirt collar, trying to figure out something that wasn’t embarrassing to say. “I, uh, mostly come out here for the stars? Its a really clear night, which means you can see all of them.”
Nandor blinked. “I do not see the significance.”
“Its just- don’t you think the stars are beautiful?”
“I suppose…” Nandor glanced up, and Guillermo couldn’t for the life of him look up too. His eyes were drawn instead to the long dark hair falling back over his shoulder, his long slender neck meeting his bearded chin. He had the urge to reach out and stroke it. To feel the wirey hairs under his fingertips. He quickly looked away however, when the urge became uncomfortably strong. Nandor would never allow it, and would probably find it weird.
Instead, he busied himself with fidgeting the sleeves of his thin sweater, fixing the folded edges around his biceps to keep himself from getting too warm. He let out a slow breath, attempting to calm his heart.
“They are quite bright, yes,” Nandor concluded finally, looking back at Guillermo. “I still do not see the reason for you being out here, however. Do you just… observe the brightness? That must get rather boring.”
Guillermo shifted, chewing on the inside of his lip. “Well, maybe it should. But I like it. Its nice out here. Quiet.”
“Is your room not quiet as well?”
Guillermo snorted. “It’s right by the entrance hall. Its always loud in there.”
Nandor frowned. “I see. So you feel you must come out here to get some ‘peace and quiet.’” He made air quotes with his fingers. Guillermo pursed his lips together, trying not the laugh.
“Yes. Exactly, Master.”
Nandor nodded slowly. “Yes, yes. That makes sense. You know, Guillermo, back when I was an army commander, I would often have to take breaks to have some ‘peace and quiet.’ Warriors are a loud and rowdy bunch and, while I was no exception, eventually you get tired of all the loud talk of killing and pillaging.” He gestured outward, his cape fluttering back with the movement. “Sometimes, you wanted to hear your own thoughts! And yes, sometimes I would think of killing and pillaging still, but it would be in the quiet shade of a tree with John at my side. Quite a different experience.”
“I think I understand what you’re getting at, Master,” Guillermo hedged, watching Nandor’s face for any sign of him rushing to shoot him down with a correction. When he didn’t, however, Guillermo continued. “You wanted space to have your own thoughts, not just those you shared with others.”
“Yes! Exactly, Guillermo!” He smiled, and Guillermo smiled back, a warmth blooming in his stomach at seeing his Master pleased with him. “I wanted the chance to feel myself as I was, not the me I was surrounded by my fellow warriors.” He paused. “I often wish I could do this again with more ease. Nadja and Laszlo are fine, but I do wish I had a nearby hill to sit and think my own thoughts, absent of theirs.”
Guillermo blinked, searching Nandor’s forlorn face. His heart skipped as Nandor’s eyes met his again and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “What if you came up here sometimes?” When his look turned quizzical, Guillermo stumbled onwards, even as his brain told him to stop. “Its really quiet up here. And Nadja and Laszlo never really come up here. You’re actually the first person to come up here in a long while, so it should be very, uh, good for thinking. And if you want, I can just… find a new spot for-“
“If you wouldn’t mind, I would actually prefer if you… accompanied me, so to speak. I am used to doing my thinking with John and, well, he had not been around for a long time now so-“
“I’m- you are aware, I’m not your pet, right?” A hint of annoyance bit into his voice and Nandor shook his head.
“No, of course you are not. But I find you rather soothing to be around. A peaceful presence in a house full of chaos. Does this make sense?”
Guillermo looked down where Nandor’s hand rested lightly against the ridge of the roof. He bit his lip, pulling his own hands closer to his body as he kept his balance. This was, of course, a bad idea. He needed his space from all of them. That’s part of the reason he came up here, outside of the daydreams. Suggesting Nandor spend his time up here was like shooting himself in the foot. It would only make his attempts to keep his thoughts about Nandor at bay more… difficult to repress.
But Nandor was looking at him so hopefully. So tenderly. Guillermo wanted to see that look more, whatever that meant he had to do. And so, against his better judgment, he nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense, Master. I would- I’d be glad to join you.”
Nandor grinned, clapping his hands in excitement. “Good! I wish to do one of these right now, then.” Guillermo opened his mouth but Nandor held up a finger. “No speaking now. We must contemplate in silence.”
Guillermo snorted a laugh but shrugged and nodded again. Nandor, satisfied, closed his eyes, hands on his lap and still perfectly balanced. And so he closed his eyes as well, attempting to fall back into the same thoughts he’d had before.
But no matter what he did, Guillermo couldn’t stop himself from peaking open an eye to stare at him. Silhouetted by twinkling stars, Nandor was even more beautiful than the night sky above.
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azertyrobaz · a day ago
Text
Dank Farrik Drabble #18
This @dankfarrikdrabbles prompt using Bottle/Embarrassed had me stumped for a while, but hopefully I made the most of it. Remember, always drink responsibly!
************
“Should we say something?” asked the Mando on the right.
“I don’t know, it seems a bit rude, and it’s the Mand’alor’s kid, who are we to judge?” replied the Mando on the left.
“Gah!” said Grogu, and looked at the control panel of the elevator. He remembered where the bridge was, and he knew his dad would be there, so he focused on the correct number and waited for the doors to close.
“Did he just press that button with his mind?”
“Don’t ask questions, it’s just easier that way, trust me.”
The two Mandos stepped aside to let him pass once they reached the correct floor, and Grogu gurgled a thank you at them, even if he hadn’t really liked the way they’d been looking at him. It was hard to see where he was going because of what he was carrying, but he liked having it with him. He had found it next to his bed when he woke up alone from his nap feeling a little lost and sad. It was a great gift and it was his.
He finally reached the bridge, and he thankfully didn’t have to do anything this time for the doors to open with a satisfying whoosh.
“Patu!” he exclaimed, wishing it was less crowded and he could reach his dad faster – his legs were very short after all.
“Heads-up, my Lord, your kid’s here.”
“What’s that he’s carrying?”
“Is that a bottle of…”
“Ah!” Grogu called, looking up expectantly at his father who’d reached him in a couple of long strides.
“Hey there buddy, what do you have here? It looks heavy, can I see it?” his dad asked, kneeling down on the floor.
He tried to take the bottle from him but Grogu didn’t like that and he held it tighter – that was his bottle!
“Okay, okay, you can keep it…” he told him placatingly. “I was just wondering what it was, that’s all.”
“Maybe it’s a gift for you, Mand’alor? That’s uh, spotchka. And not any spotchka,” said a Mando worriedly, already regretting opening his mouth.
“It’s a bit early for spotchka,” a less anxious Mando offered in the background, to several sniggers.
“Unless the kid’s the one drinking it.”
“Garrr,” grumbled Grogu, thinking they were making fun of him or his gift.
“Hey, cut it out!” Din complained loudly, not liking seeing Grogu getting mad.
“Sorry, my Lord.”
“And what did you mean, ‘not any spotchka’? What’s so special about it?” he pressed.
Silence.
“Haven’t you heard?” a brave Mando finally uttered. “They made spotchka in your honor to celebrate your coronation, my Lord.”
“They made what?” Din repeated, perplexed, staring at the little boy holding the bottle tightly in his claws.
“It’s got your portrait on the label and everything, I hear it’s very good. Someone must have dropped a few cases in your quarters.”
Din sighed deeply in consternation and finally managed to turn the bottle around in the child’s arms to see his own image staring back at him. His armor looked very shiny.
“I’m gonna find you a better toy Grogu, I promise,” he vowed, and hoped the Mandos present on the bridge would let him live it down.
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thedeathdeelers · a day ago
Text
catch flights not feels
They stand facing each other, their interlinked hands hanging in the small space between them.
It had been a hectic morning - running around the Molina house as they worked to grab all of Luke’s clothes strewn all over the guest bedroom and hers, the notebooks haphazardly placed around the studio, with papers littering the top of her mom’s piano and flowing onto the small bench.
They had even turned it into a game - Get Luke Ready on Time Or He’s Out of the Band (she suspects he did it on purpose to distract her - and it had worked). They had been so busy trying to get everything packed while competing against each other, laughter ringing around the house every time Luke cheated by lifting her off the ground before she could reach his shirt or shoe or journal, that she hadn’t had time to properly process what was about to happen.
continue reading on ao3
But now that they were standing at the edge of security, people rushing around them in all directions to get to where they needed to be on time, reality came crashing back down. Luke was flying back out to meet up with Reggie and Alex in New York, to join them on the second leg of their Spring National Tour, and Julie...wasn’t. Because while her favourite boys were doing what they did best on the other side of the country, she was stuck at home, about to dive right back into her finals. Graduation was so close she could almost taste it.
Don’t get her wrong — she was excited for him, for all three of her phantoms. Her chest filled up with pride anytime she saw pictures of their gigs, heard their songs playing on the radio or even just remembered that her boys were finally on tour. You couldn’t find a bigger, more supportive fan than Julie Molina, but fact of the matter still remained: She missed them. She missed Luke, and it never got easier having to say goodbye to him every time he had to leave her, every time she had to let him go.
Moments like these never got easier.
Julie stares at their joint hands, her gaze fixed on Luke’s thumb as he draws soft circles on the back of her hand, her mind wandering. She’s only jolted out of her daze when he squeezes her hand, trying to get her attention.
“Hey,” he says softly, a smile clear in his voice.
Julie lifts her head up, her eyes slowly drifting up to meet his.
“Hey,” she whispers, her voice cracking as she works to swallow back the lump in her throat.
“I’ll be back in no time Jules, I promise.” He ducks down to her level, his eyes warm. “Plus, you’ll be so busy with your exams you’ll probably forget all about lil ole me,” he adds on, teasing.
Julie tries her best to smile at his attempt at levity, but all she thinks she’s managed is a half grimace.
“Julie,” he says, his free hand moving up to cup her face, thumb swiping across her cheekbone. “You got this — we got this. Think of it this way: the next time I’ll be heading out on tour with the boys, you’ll be right there with us — with me. Every day, every night. At every single one of our gigs. Taking your rightful place as frontman of our band.” He moves his fingers across her cheek, lightly tracing her lip before curling them as they settle under her chin. “Yeah?”
Her heart flutters at his words, at his soft touch, just as it always does. She can already feel her spirits rising, even as the sadness of having to let him go still lurks within her. This is hard on both of them, and she needs him to know that she’ll be alright — that she’s excited for him, for all of them.
Her eyes flicker down to their intertwined fingers before traveling back up to meet his eyes, her lips quirking into a teasing smile.
“Frontwoman.”
He stares at her for a few seconds, his own mind playing catch up before he lets out a puff of air, squeezing her hand.
“Taking your rightful place as frontwoman of our band.” He cocks his head to the side, raising his eyebrows with a smile. “Better?”
“Much better.”
He chuckles at her words, shaking his head as he pulls her to him, her own arms automatically reaching up to wrap around the back of his neck. She feels his arms settle at her lower back, pulling her tight against him.
Julie burrows her face into his t-shirt, taking in a deep breath as she tries hard to commit Luke’s unique scent to memory — a mix of mint and old leather and fabric softener, with just a hint of her own vanilla scented shampoo mixed in. Her fingers weave into the hair at the nape of his neck, her heartbeat stuttering in her chest when she feels him bury his face in her hair, his breathing causing a wave of goosebumps to break out all over her head.
She only loosens her hold on him when she feels him start to pull away, her eyes snapping up to his meet his. She finds him watching her with a soft but regretful look, his smile tentative.
He’s worried about her.
Mustering as much courage as she can, Julie lifts up the corners of her mouth, willing herself to reassure him. Her smile only widens when she sees a small hint of relief take over his features, his shoulders relaxing under her arms.
They stay that way for a few more seconds, just basking in the feel of one another.
At the sound of his flight number being called overhead, Luke finally breaks the moment. He starts to pull his arms back to his sides, letting his fingers trail from the crook of her elbows and down the length of her forearms, grazing the palm of her hands before latching onto her own fingers.
“See you soon?”
Julie swallows away the forming lump in her throat, nodding her head as she focuses on the feel of her hands engulfed in his warm ones.
“See you soon.”
He nods at her once, smile still in place.
She watches him clinging onto her hands, their arms lifting as he starts walking backwards towards the bottom of the escalator. Her eyes don’t falter, even when he lets go. Her arms flop down to her sides, while Luke continues to walk backwards as he waves at her. She keeps her smile firmly in place, waving halfheartedly right as he reaches the escalator. He steps onto it, his eyes never leaving hers.
Their eyes stay locked on each other until he disappears from view.
Julie stands there for a few more minutes, her shoulders slumping as she thinks of the long quiet car ride that awaits her - a major contrast to the drive with Luke earlier that morning.
She shakes her head, takes in a deep breath and turns around, slowly making her way back out of the airport.
But before she could even take a few steps towards the exit, she hears Luke shouting out her name.
She pivots on the spot to find him jogging down the escalator, his carry on and guitar case bouncing on his back. With a furrow between her brows, Julie makes her way towards to meet him halfway.
“Jules,” he puffs out when he’s within earshot.
“Luke? Everything okay?”
He waves her off, his breathing still not back to normal.
“I- Ya everything’s- oof I really need to hit the gym again.” He takes a few more seconds to breathe before he straightens up again.
“Yeah sorry - all’s good boss.” He smiles down at her, and she thinks about how much she’s going to miss that smile.
“Then whats wrong? You’re going to miss your flight.”
“Nah I’m good, this will only take a second.” He pauses as he looks at her, his eyes roaming her face again.
“Did you forget something or? I’m pretty sure I gave you your passport back but maybe-” Julie starts to pull her bag off her shoulder, ready to rifle through her belongings in search of his travel document. Boys.
“No, not that. I’ve got it right here.” He pulls out his blue passport from his back pocket to show her, before quickly pocketing it back into place.
She nods, reassured.
“Alright then, did you forget something else?”
“Yeah,” his mouth tilts up on one side, a sheepish crooked smile taking over his face. “This.”
He reaches out with both hands, cupping her face before gently pulling her to him, his own head leaning down to meet her halfway.
Julie is only too willing to follow, her body sighing in relief the moment his lips touch hers.
She doesn’t know how long they spend lost in their own world, but her heart feels a little lighter, a little happier, when he finally pulls away, both of them slightly breathless as she rests her forehead against his.
“Oh,” is all she manages to breathe out.
She keeps her eyes closed for a few more seconds, soaking up this feeling of being fully surrounded by him. She wants her mind to remember the feel of his warm breath brushing against her lips. She needs her heart to memorise the rhythm of his heart beating against the palm of her hand and the feel of his chest rising and falling, synchronised to her own movements. And she knows that her skin will cherish the feel of his calloused fingertips softly grazing her cheeks as they slowly travel down the line of her jaw, only stopping once settled at the base of her neck, right by her pulse point.
She eventually opens her eyes once she feels his hands still, her own resting on his chest. She finds him already watching her, his eyes bright and dizzying at such close proximity.
And honestly, she wouldn’t have it any other way.
With his eyes locked on hers and the beating of his heart under her hand, she knows she can do this. For the both of them.
They got this.
She playfully pushes at him with her hands, a small smirk making its way on her lips. He stumbles back a step, his hands falling to her hips as he blinks at the sudden change in her.
“Time for the rockstar to catch his flight.”
He laughs at her words, squeezing her hips once before letting go.
“Whatever you say, boss.”
He leans down towards her one more time, pressing a kiss to her temple. He lingers there for a second, his lips hovering as his breath skates over her skin, before moving away and turning around to head back towards the escalators.
Yeah, they got this.
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demieddie · a day ago
Text
meet me on third base
teen (for language), no warnings apply, m/m - buddie, ~1k
summary:
There’s a new guy on Bosko’s intramural baseball team. Buck cannot stand him.
Buddie Week 2021 Day 1: “Did I make you blush?” | rivals
[read on ao3]
There’s a new guy on Bosko’s intramural baseball team. Apparently, he transferred here from somewhere in Texas over the winter break, conveniently filling an empty roster spot from a recent graduate. Normally, Buck’s always happy to have people join their league, but the problem is that this guy is good. Too good. Buck’s never seen a better third baseman in his life. And his ass looks better in his baseball pants than Buck’s does. Buck can't stand him.
They’ve only played him twice so far, but Buck’s seen him around the diamonds enough to have solidified his opinion. Buck’s also pretty sure that he styles his hair before his games; there’s no way that anyone’s hair looks that good naturally at 8 pm after a baseball game. But, for as much as he’s seen this guy during the games, he never comes out for beers after the game, which is basically the main unspoken agreement of the league.
So, long story short, Buck doesn’t like him and doesn’t understand how the rest of his team does.
They’re playing their third game against his team and Buck is just about losing it. This guy – Eddie, apparently – has been chirping everyone all night.
“Does this guy ever shut the fuck up?” Buck asks Chimney in the dugout when he hears Eddie yell at Hen, who’s up to bat.
“He has a point – she can definitely swing better than that,” Chimney responds. “Besides, he’s complimenting us half the time. Lighten up, Buckaroo, he’s not out to ruin your life.”
Buck scoffs, but then Hen hits the ball and the conversation is forgotten. She makes it to first base, and Buck’s grabbing a bat at walking up to home plate.
The first pitch is barely above his ankles.
“Hey Bosko, give me something I can hit, yeah?” Buck calls at the pitcher teasingly, with a smile on his face. She makes a face at him as her catcher throws the ball back.
The next pitch is much more Buck’s speed and he’s hitting it far into right field. He takes off running, making it to second base before the ball is thrown back into the infield. Hen makes it home and their dugout erupts in cheers.
Chimney’s up to bat next and hits a line drive between second base and shortstop. There are already two outs, so Buck takes off running at the crack of the bat and the ball whizzes by his head – way too close for his liking. The shortstop fumbles the ball, allowing Chimney and Buck enough time to be safe, but they can’t advance more than one base.
“Watch your face there, darling, don’t want you messing up something that pretty,” the third baseman pipes up from beside Buck, and, fuck, Buck forgot that he’ll be standing near Eddie until he gets off of third. Then his brain catches up to what was said and all Buck can hear is Eddie calling him pretty.
“Aw, did I make you blush?” Eddie teases and Buck can see the smile on his face out of the corner of his eye.
“Call me pretty again and you can see how far down it goes,” Buck responds with unexpected confidence.
He looks over to see Eddie’s stunned but smiling face, but then there’s a crack of the ball hitting a bat and Buck’s running home before he can think about it.
That interaction runs through Buck’s head for the rest of the game and forces Buck to re-evaluate all past interactions with Eddie. By the end of the game, he can acknowledge that his initial reaction to Eddie was probably part jealously, part appreciation, and part holy shit, hot competent man in baseball pants.
After both teams shake hands, Eddie circles back to Buck.
“It’s Buckley, right?” Eddie asks.
“Just Buck,” he responds. “Eddie Diaz?”
“The one and only.” Eddie takes a deep breath, seemingly trying to ground himself. “Did you mean what you said? It’s fine if it was just a chirp, but…” Eddie trails off and lowers his gaze.
“I did,” Buck says suddenly when Eddie starts looking like he might start backtracking. Eddie’s hopeful gaze immediately meets his and Buck continues, “You coming out to the bar tonight?”
The hope on Eddie’s face turns nervous again.“No. I, uh, have a young son and have to pick him up from my abuela soon.” And suddenly, Buck feels like the biggest asshole for judging him about never coming out with the teams.
“Of course, no worries. Is his mo– that is so invasive, I’m so sorry –”
“His mother isn’t in the picture,” Eddie says, taking Buck out of his awkward misery. “And that’s not too invasive considering we were just flirting. Really, I’d be a little concerned if you didn’t care.”
Buck smiles, part in relief but also part in disbelief at himself. Why can he pick up anyone in a club with ease, but when he actually wants to get to know someone, he gets tongue-tied and awkward?
“Okay, good,” Buck starts to say.
“C’mon Buckley or we’re leaving you behind!” Chimney yells from beside the bleachers.
“I’m coming, Chim, give me a minute!” He shouts back, before turning to Eddie and holding out his phone. “Here, put in your number and I’ll send you my schedule. That way you can let me know when you’re free and we can arrange a date.”
Eddie takes his phone, inputs his information, and gives the phone back.
“Sounds like a plan. I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Buck,” he says with a way too gorgeous smile.
“Me too.”
“Buck!” Chimney calls again.
“Okay, I really gotta go. See you soon, Eddie.” He flashes one last smile before he turns and walks out of the diamond towards Chimney.
“What was that?” Chimney asks when Buck catches up.
“Nothing. Just found out that Eddie isn’t as bad as I thought,” Buck responds with a smile.
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magalidragon · a day ago
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casablanca jonerys AU!! angsty reunions >>>>
I don't know how but I got this into 197 words! And oh gosh a Casablanca Jonerys!? KILL ME NOW AND BURY ME IN MOROCCO MY GODS. SOMEONE WRITE IT FOR ME. Hope you like this Anon!
Here’s looking at you kid.
The last words he said to her.  She left.  Now she was back.
The bar was crowded, doing a decent business.  She wondered if he would recognize her.  She’d cut her hair; had to, too many people could recognize her.  She bit her bottom lip, the red lipstick eaten away.
Five years.  It had been five years.
The war was over.  He’d fought in it, she’d heard.
So had she.
The crowd parted, the piano playing– Davos on the keys as usual– he stood against it, in a black suit, his curls wild.  She lifted her hand, nervous, waving.  His eyes widened, surprised and mouth fell open around his cigarette.  He stubbed it out and walked across the dance floor to her.
“Hello,” she whispered.
He nodded.  “Hello.”
They stared for a moment, the music fading.  He did not break eye contact and called over his shoulder.  “Play it again Davos.”
Their song played.
He embraced her, sweeping off her feet, her tears tracking to his face, mingling with his, finally, after war, separation, and so much pain, she was in his arms again.
And she was never leaving, war be damned.
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saretton · a day ago
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TO REBUILD ANEW
A Good Omens Clerical AU - Read it on AO3
Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley. Rating: Explicit (No Archive Warnings)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human (Priests), Catholicism, Catholic Guilt, Religious Conflict, Blasphemy, Heresy, Explicit Sexual Content, Priest Crowley, Mountain Preacher Aziraphale, Bearded Aziraphale & Crowley, I have written this fic for myself but you can read it too, Bible Quotes & Biblical Imagery, Angst, Hopeful Ending, the conflicted eroticism of sharing a last supper with your beloved, and getting to know them biblically, POV Second Person (Crowley’s)
Summary: You looked upstream, and there he was.
Notes: This fic was born out of a weird combination of Michael Sheen’s performance in The Gospel of Us and a promo picture of David Tennant as a Catholic priest in Step Aside.
All my thanks to @tawnyontumblr for the careful and insightful beta and to @naromoreau​ for the sweet handholding and powerful cheerleading, for her help with tags and the title idea. 🧡
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fonulyn · a day ago
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The worst part, by far, is not seeing anything. There are sounds, people talking like he isn’t even in the room, machines beeping and doors opening, quick busy steps against the floor. Most of the time passes by in a haze, and Chris knows he’s been drugged with something but he doesn’t know what, he doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him, but he can’t fight it either. He feels disoriented and untethered, scared like he hasn’t felt in a long time. No matter how much he tries to tug on his bounds he’s unable to get free, unable to get even close, and sometimes there’s a spike of panic so strong he can barely even breathe through it.
- Or the one wherein Chris is held captive, but Leon gets him out of there.
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doctorslove · 19 hours ago
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Your Own Melody
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2/2 After that they have a bunch of awkward times together until Ten finally confesses after watching the reader just be really talented on the piano or something. The reader then reveals a romantic song she made about him and, you know, fluff. Sorry this was long and I hope it makes sense. Thank you.
I'm always down for Ten fluff!!! I hope you like it, friend :)
Summary: Basically what the request says. The Doctor can get a bit irresistable. In a moment of excitement you kiss him. You do your best to convince him that it didn't mean anything, but he can't stop thinking about it.
(ft a little bit of Martha because I haven't written her at all yet even though I adore her, so it was time)
Tenth Doctor x Reader
Gender not specified for the reader
Words: 1608
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“Will this work?” you wanted to yell the question, but your voice was breathless.
“Trust me,” the Doctor replied with a serious look.
And you would never not trust him.
You gave him your hand and started running towards the TARDIS. Just a few seconds before entering the door, you heard an explosion behind you.
You truly had no clue how he had managed to do it, but it bought you some time in order to get back to the safety of the TARDIS and disappear from your enemies.
“Oh my God,” you sighed, placing your palm on your chest trying to catch your breath.
“We did it,” he smiled.
Did he have any idea how great he was? What a genius he was, managing to save the day every single time?
“You’re-you’re brilliant!” you exclaimed, and before you knew it your hand left your chest and wrapped itself around his tie while your mouth went to his.
You smiled against his lips. Oh you were so grateful for him. You loved him.
You-
No, what the hell were you doing?
The two of you had never done something like this before. And to your surprise the Doctor had not pulled away yet. But you suddenly did. No matter how nice it felt to be kissing him, you were being stupid. You were ruining your friendship in real time and now things would be awkward.
You looked at him hesitantly, your heart beating like crazy, afraid of his reaction.
He did not seem upset, though; with his eyes half closed and his mouth still open, he looked almost drunk.
“Doctor, I…” you tried to find the right words to say, the words that would help you save the situation. “Doctor, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Y/N,” he tried to interrupt, but you didn’t let him.
“I don’t know why I did that. I…I guess it was because I was high on adrenaline and wasn’t thinking.”
“Y/N, wait.”
“It really didn’t mean anything, I promise.”
The Doctor’s expression shifted. “It didn’t?”
“No. Absolutely not,” you rushed to reassure him. “I was just…you know…really excited. I promise, I know we’re just good friends.”
“Yeah…” the Doctor said, softly. “Good friends.”
It kinda stung to hear him agree with you, but you had no room to be sad. What was important was that he wasn’t mad.
“Can we…forget about this?”
He took a deep breath before replying. “Of course,” he said with – from what you suspected - a forced smile.
--
Why, why, why did it hurt to hear you say you didn’t mean the kiss? Why did it hurt so bad every time your voice played in his head, saying ‘we’re just good friends’?
And most importantly, why couldn’t he stop visiting the memory of that kiss?
Why was he obsessing over how you tasted, and how nice you smelled, and how it would feel if you hadn’t pulled away this early but instead had let him pull you even closer to his body?
You were Y/N. His wonderful companion and most of all: friend. Why was this word suddenly not enough? Not enough at all?
--
Everything seemed…normal after that kiss. You hadn’t dared to bring it up again and neither had the Doctor.
But it was the little things…it was during those casual moments that you didn’t know how to act.
For example, you always held hands. It was your thing: Y/N and the Doctor holding hands, going on adventures. But right now you were walking next to him, shaking at just the thought of reaching out and grabbing his hand.
And why hadn’t he reached out first? Did he feel awkward around you? Was he afraid that you’d misunderstand the gesture?
Your hand was starting to sweat from your overthinking so you thought that maybe it was for the best you were staying away from the hand holding that day.
--
“Yes! Exactly! How didn’t I think of it? Oh, Y/N, you’re outstanding!” the Doctor shouted and without really thinking it, pulled you in for a tight hug.
He had missed you. One moment he was the closest to you he had ever been and the second he was as far as ever.
He didn’t know how to act around you anymore, but right now it was impossible for him to keep his hands away from you.
You melted in his arms he could feel it, and he secretly wished that you’d get that same excitement again and accidentally kiss him.
That didn’t happen though. Instead, when you broke the hug neither of you could maintain eye contact for more than half a second, and you both started stuttering over your words.
“Right,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should…go start with…th-the thing.”
“Yeah…yeah…you should,” you replied staring at your shoes.
--
“Martha!” you exclaimed at the same time with the Doctor, both of you internally grateful that someone else would join you and maybe save you from the awkwardness of being alone.
“I missed you,” you complained, already giving her a big hug.
“I missed you more.”
It was nice having Martha around for a few days, but you suspected that she could tell something was going on between you and the Doctor.
Your suspicions were confirmed when on her last night at the TARDIS she wanted to speak to you in private.
“So…?”
“What?” you responded, acting like you had no idea what she wanted to talk about.
She gave you a knowing look. “What’s going on with you two? I mean the tension…I…I’m usually right about these things.”
You sighed, looking down to your lap.
“Y/N, you can always talk to me about anything. You know I don’t have those feelings for him anymore. I’m engaged,” she said showing you her beautiful ring.
You smiled and let her take your hand in hers.
“So? I’m all ears,” she continued.
“I kissed him,” you said, quickly.
“What?” she asked with a delighted expression.
“And then I took it back.”
“You what?” she asked again, this time with an annoyed expression. “Why would you do that?”
“Because it was stupid!”
“No, that was the least stupid thing you’ve ever done. It’s about time the two of you get together.”
“No. He sees me as a friend. That was a close call, but I’m not pushing my luck again.”
“He loves you!”
“Not in that way!”
“Oh Y/N, how can you not see it?”
--
When Martha left, life was back to the two of you again.
Your need for some space to think made you start wandering inside the TARDIS. Without realizing it, you let the TARDIS lead you to a room you had never seen before.
Opening the door, you were met with a surprise. “A piano?”
You walked close to it and brushed your fingers across its polished surface.
“Thank you,” you whispered after sitting on the chair in front of it, and the TARDIS hummed.
A sweet melody started filling the room when you placed your hands on the piano keys and started playing.
You closed your eyes enjoying the peace playing your music brought to you. You were so focused on the music that you were startled by the feeling of a hand on your shoulder.
Immediately your fingers stopped moving and you could only hear the Doctor’s voice.
“Sorry, I scared you.”
“It’s okay,” you said softly.
“You play lovely.”
His comment made you shy and you dropped your gaze down.
You heard him sigh. “You are lovely.”
This made you look up at him again.
“Can I sit next to you?” he asked and you nodded yes, making room for him.
Suddenly he was close, his left thigh touching your right one.
He gave you a sweet smile, and everything felt so beautiful that it made you wonder why were things ever awkward between you in the first place. This was your Doctor.
He gently took your hand and brought it to his lap.
“Y/N…I can’t stop thinking about the kiss.”
He was being honest. You owed him that same honesty back. “Me too.”
The Doctor smiled. “In a good way I hope, because all I’m thinking is how bad I want you to do it again.”
This made you chuckle. “Believe me, so am I.”
“So…will you?” he asked and you cupped his cheek, softly kissing his lips.
A slow kiss this time; no rush or worries like the last time, just his open mouth on yours.
“I’m in love with you,” he whispered, when the kiss ended.
“I’m in love with you, too,” you whispered back. “And…”
“And?” he asked kissing your temple.
“And I think this is the perfect time for me to show you something.”
He pulled back a little so he could see your face properly. “What is it?”
“A song…a song I wrote for you.”
“For me? Sweetheart…” he replied with the sweetest tone and kissed your hand. “I’d love to hear it.”
So you let go of his hand and started playing the melody you wrote just for him; the notes that you combined in order to express what you couldn’t with words, pouring your entire heart in one song.
You had added a few words here and there, talking about how his brown eyes made you blush when they looked into yours, how your stomach started to hurt when he stood a little too close, and how you absolutely adored him.
When you were done with the song you noticed a few tears running down his cheeks and you were more than ready to kiss them away.
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ianrightsonly · 11 hours ago
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The Gallagher Family Roast (As Roasted by Mickey Milkovich)
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Title: The Gallagher Family Roast (As Roasted by Mickey Milkovich)
Pairing: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 6292 (one shot)
Summary: After watching the Jonas Brothers Family Roast, Mickey decides that the Gallagher siblings are long overdue for a roast of their own. By the end of a night filled with teasing words and witty banter, he and Ian reach an impasse.
(graphic made by the lovely @milkovichian 💕)
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carpisuns · 2 days ago
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44. Share a snippet of your current WIP?
and
45. A fic you look forward to writing in the future?
i've already answered these but i have more wips and fic ideas to share so i will! haha
44. Share a snippet of your current WIP?
Adrien has seen red sunrises and orange sunrises and gold sunrises, but he’s never seen one this pink.
(It’s pink for Marinette, he thinks. Or maybe she’s the thing that’s pink, making everything around her glow.)
45. A fic you look forward to writing in the future?
i am very attached to the idea of a multichap ladrien fic where adrien keeps writing ladybug love letters after he gets a response to his discarded valentine in Dark Cupid. he can't send them to her so he just writes one like every day and keeps them hidden in his room. he doesn't know if he'll ever get to give them to her, probably not, but he writes them anyway because it's nice to just write about how he feels and what he thinks and be totally honest about both sides of his life. and the best part is signing it "all my love, adrien." that would be the title of the fic and the chapters would alternate between letters and regular chapters. and at some point ladrien would actually date and possibly break up? idk i haven't figured out how it would actually work lol it's just a vibe rn so im letting it cook in my brain and i hope someday it will be ready asjlkfda
THANKS TALI i love u <3
(fic writer ask game)
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thesadieb · 2 days ago
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just wanted to say thank you for being a part of the fandom and writing fics and generally being awesome
Thank you anon, I needed that. ❤️
Just for that, here’s a sneak peek to my upcoming one-shot:
.🐝🐝🐝.
“Do we have to go back?”
It came as no surprise to Kate that Anthony was reluctant to return to London. Even on the seventh and final day of their honeymoon. His unabashed attempts to curtail her ended up delaying their departure from Aubrey Hall by two whole hours. Which, again, came as no shock to her. He was like a man possessed. Truly, if her husband could have it his way, they need never leave their bed again.
“Yes, because you have duties to attend to and a family to look after in London. Not to mention a sister in need of chaperoning.” Goodness, she had almost forgot about Eloise there. Although, with the week her husband had just put her through, Kate was still struggling to remember how to walk, let alone the fact that she had seven new siblings to worry about.
“Two sisters, I think you will find.”
Kate could not help but be taken aback by his statement. Because, yes, suppose he did now.
The realisation was strangely comforting. The idea Edwina was now as much as his responsibility as she was hers. That he accepted it so freely. Despite his cold and passive facade, Kate was starting to suspect that she had married the nicest man in all of England.
Smiling at the thought, she took his hand in hers. “All the more reason to return home. I don’t know if you’re already aware of this; you’re a rather important man.”
She could practically hear his grin. “Oh, yes, darling; say that again.”
Kate rolled her eyes. Of course he had to ruin it. God forbid they have one serious conversation.
The moment now gone, she gave him a loving, if not well-deserved, shove. “Stop that, I’m being serious!”
“Then stop saying things that you know will excite me!”
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