#tag yourself i'm ravi

[glorious-spoon]

sunday wip! the lovely @hetrez tagged me a couple of days ago, so have a bit of the 118 from this chapter that will definitely totally be done this week sometime

-

"Okay, guys," Bobby says. "Come on. We're all very happy that Buck and Eddie finally figured things out, but—"

"Finally?" Buck squawks.

"Wait," Eddie says slowly. "You didn't have a betting pool on us. Did you?"

There's a long, guilty silence at the table. Then Ravi pops out of his seat, plate in hand. "I think I'm on dishes duty this morning, actually," he says, and bolts from the table.

"Coward!" Chim yells after him.

Buck points at him. "Were you betting on us?"

"No!" He throws up his hands, the picture of aggrieved innocence, then sags. "It's tacky to bet on other people's love lives, apparently. Besides, I actually thought you were both straight."

"Well, that was dumb," Eddie remarks, as if he didn't think the same thing before Buck sucked him off in the loft kitchen three weeks ago.

-

i'm not sure who's done this today, so if you haven't done it and you want to, consider yourself tagged!

#this has been slow going but i DID write more than 1k words today so hopefully i'm back on track #911 #buddie #sunday wip

[wildlife4life]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the always wonderful @prince-buck-diaz before it was even Wednesday for me.

You all know what time it is...NFL Buck! Honest to god I'm not really that close to being done. I keep adding to my notes on what I want to include and now I'm think of doing a paragraph or two for each game day/week, except for opening day because boy do I have plans for that (hint: Madney!) There is so much I want to do for this fic. So thank you all for the continued support and interest. I hope I do it justice. And to help tide you all over for a bit longer, here is another bit that is both comedic and solemn. Enjoy!

“Chimney basically outed me to the team today. So now they all know I’m gay and have a boyfriend.” Eddie tells Buck when he slides into the bed, gently nudging their black coat retriever mix Jade from her resting place next to the man who first bought her home.  She huffs in displeasure and leaps down, padding out of their bedroom, most likely heading to Christopher’s room. His boyfriend quirks an eyebrow, “Outed you? Have you even been trying to hide it? I thought we agreed-“ Eddie groans, “I know what we agreed too, and I wasn’t hiding that I’m gay, but I’m not going around saying, ‘Hi I’m Eddie Diaz from Houston and I only like dick.’” Buck chokes on a laugh, but lets him continue, “I’ve been calling you my partner, no gender attached.  But then there were these girls at this awful country bar and they were being very persistent-“ “And you got annoyed, so you pulled the gay card.” He snorts, “Told them I have a boyfriend and I guess the team overheard, or my voice just carries really well, I don’t know. But anyways we get in the truck and Chimney just blurts out, ‘You’re gay?’ and it was all downhill from there.” Buck is shaking the bed with how hard he’s laughing, “Oh my god, Eddie! He didn’t out you, you did that yourself!” He groans again, burying his face in his hands in embarrassment, “It was such a mess! Hen and Ravi, we’re trying to defend me, and then I snapped at all of them about privacy and then my Captain is giving me an open invitation to team gatherings outside of work, while also inviting you and Christopher. He even tried to show his support by casually mentioning his wife’s ex-husband and his male fiancé. Like what is with straight people name dropping any gay person they know when someone comes out to them. I was nice about it and all. Even said I would come by with Christopher some time, then lied my ass off about the whole group thing not being your scene.  Which is ironic really considering you are literally apart of a large ass group for a job.” His partner has gone quiet beside him, the air around becoming solemn.  Eddie unburied his face and looked over to find Buck wringing his hands together, despondent, and guilty. Eddie’s heart clenched because he knew why. Buck hated how many lies they had to tell, that had Christopher and Maddie and everyone else who knew their secret had to tell, just so he could continue to play out his dream. And it was because of all the secrets and lies that they were all left out on different parts of each other’s lives.

Tagging (no pressure and apologies for extra tags): @elvensorceress @thewolvesof1998 @bekkachaos @transbuck @cowboy-buddie @shortsighted-owl @ebdaydreamer @hippolotamus @911onabc @911-on-abc @alyxmastershipper @thekristen999 @lizzybizzyzzz @monsterrae1 @prostheticknowledge

#wip wednesday #tag game #my wip #911 fox #911 abc #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #chimney han #bobby nash #nfl #quarterback buck #firefighter eddie #secret relationship #straights name dropping gays #comedic #light angst #bed shring #gay disaster eddie diaz #buck just wants to openly love eddie #Jade is here!

[mooshkat]

Rules: Post your favorite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

thank you @chaotictarlos for tagging me ♡♡ we're gonna ignore that it's saturday now i haven't been on tumblr much today

for if i'm going down, i'm taking you with me | John Wick with a splash of Romeo and Juliet AU | written together with the beloved @thebumblecee ♡

Do it, TK wants to tell him. He wants Carlos to make the first move again, to prove that everything from that night wasn’t a mistake he regrets. Please, just do it.

There’s a stutter in Carlos’ breath as he glances down at TK’s lips before looking into his eyes again. Even before, when they were more up close and personal than they’d ever been, he’s never seen Carlos this vulnerable.

The candlelight flickers and glows around the spiked halo TK put on Carlos’ head, making him look truly as Holy as a Saint. TK feels like he’s temptation personified, ready to make this angel in front of him fall from grace and into sin.

This moment is one he doesn’t want to break. It’s something to hold and cherish, a fragile thing that can shatter with one wrong move.

oh, take me back to the night we met | A tragedy puts a halt on TK's wedding, and things aren't exactly as they seem with Carlos.

"TK? What's wrong?"

His husband grabs his face gently with both hands and pulls him close to press their foreheads together, his bottom lip trembling. He looks devastated, like something terrible has happened.

Carlos grabs onto one of TK's wrists, the ache in his chest growing, getting sharper by the minute. "Tyler, you're scaring me."

A broken sob shatters from TK's chest, and the tears in his eyes finally slip down his face. "I wish you would wake up, baby. I miss you so much. I can't—I can't do this without you. I don't want to live in a world without you."

Carlos freezes. It feels like someone has dumped a bucket full of ice water over him, chilling him to the bone.

"...What?"

each brave step forward, i take three behind | A temporary firefighter at the 118 brings chaos down on Buck and Ravi.

The alpha’s rage slams into Buck like a brick wall. He stands firm, barely holding onto the control it takes to not flinch, fists clenched at his sides. “Look, man. Whatever issue you have with them, take it up with their insurance company.” The man tries to go around him, but Buck steps into his path again. “Buddy. Don’t do anything stupid that would get the cops involved.”

As he looks toward where Athena is already watching and ready to make her way over, Buck is grabbed. He rips his arm out of the man’s grasp and tries to take a step back, but a heavy, calloused hand lands on the back of his neck and squeezes.

A yelp tears itself from his throat as his knees threaten to buckle underneath him. The rage practically soaks into his skin, surrounding him and leaving him feeling like fire ants are crawling all over his body. His heart pounds in his chest as he fights back against the instinct to cower.

“Get the fuck out of my way, you omega cunt.” The man shoves him away and tries to continue on his warpath to the ambulance, but he is quickly restrained. He thrashes against Bobby, Athena, and another cop, who suddenly have a hold on him, still shouting obscenities.

desire's burning (your hands are sweating) | Buck steals Tommy's hoodie and finds out just how much Tommy likes seeing him wear it.

Buck goes to take the easy way out, his hand reaching for his cock to jerk himself off, but Tommy's hand is lightning fast at snatching his wrist.

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, raising a brow. “You get off on my thigh or nothing else, baby.”

He pouts but doesn't try to pull out of his grip. Buck can't help but stare at the way Tommy's hand wraps around his wrist, his fingertips almost touching. “Is this punishment for the picture?”

Both of Tommy's brows raise this time, a common look when Buck says something that surprises him. He licks his lips before answering. “Do you want it to be?”

“I…” Buck can't stop taking in every part of his boyfriend. His heart is racing in his chest, and he swears his cock is throbbing with need in time with it. “I think that's something we should talk about when I'm not horny out of my mind.”

The corners of Tommy's eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Deal.” He squeezes Buck's wrist lightly before letting it go and masking his face in indifference again. “Try again. You can brace yourself on my shoulders if you need to.”

tagging: @thebumblecee @cowlos-reyes @birdclowns @brasscacti @prettyboybuckley @paperstorm @safeaswrites @blessedbucky @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut and you 🫵

#katie.txt #moosh worbs #fic pride friday #look at me making a whole ass banner. wow. i almost fist fought picsart to do it

[jungle-angel]

The One With The Sex Manual: Part 2 (Frat!Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Rhett's Kamasutra 101 lessons continue

Warnings: Hilariously filthy and depraved sexual acts, smut, references to sexual intercourse, frat boy weirdness etc. See Urban Dictionary for details (lol).

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @sebsxphia

"Alright, so seeing yas ya'll have been studying this chapter thoroughly," Rhett said to the new pledges. "Lets get back into it. Kelso, what position is chapter two, section eight?"

"Camel ride," Danny Kelso answered.

"And how is this performed?" Ravi Sharma queried, trying so hard not to snicker as he scratched it off on the chalkboard.

"Receiving partner lies on his/her side with the uppermost leg forward. The penetrating partner kneels astride the receiver's lowermost leg, thus gaining access to either vagina or ass. Good for pregnancy, or for overweight partners. Experiment, as one side usually gives better alignment than the other for any given pairing," Danny explained.

"EXCELLENT!" Rhett exclaimed. "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

"Um.....Professor Abbott?" Stephen Rodriguez said, raising his hand. "What's the Montana Mating Press?"

"I put that one in there," Ravi chuckled. "That's where ya'll make a giant pillow mountain and then fuck your partner stupid in the mating press position while ya'll pray that you don't fall off the bed."

"You've tried this?" Rhett laughed.

"Dude, my people fucking INVENTED the sex manual," Ravi pointed out.

"What's the Screwnicorn?" Joey Castro enquired.

"Ah, Joey, I'm glad ya'll asked," Rhett chuckled. "That's where two partners are crawlin around on all fours with a strap-on tied to their heads, tryin to penetrate each other. That act can be found in the sex manuals of the Phi Gamma Kappa sorority, as it was often performed by drunken sorority sisters."

You had been sitting in the corner, trying to hide your laughter while the pledges busted out laughing, all of them going completely red in the face as Rhett and the others kept going into all the filthy details. They hadn't been wrong. Many a time, you yourself had been witness to The Screwnicorn in the hallways of the Phi Gamma house during a rager.

"Wait, Tony Danza is a sex position?" Flounder asked.

"Yeah that one we don't do," Rhett told him. "If it involves donkey punching your partner, don't do it unless they're a real asshole."

"Ok so that means we skip over Hot Donkey?"

"YES!!!!!!" Rhett told him, his eyes going wide as he gave a fervent nod.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You knew that in a house full of men, there would be sexual depravity, but this was ludicrously funny.

"Alright class is dismissed for the day," Rhett told them. "Make sure next time ya'll bring your manuals and we'll continue. Professor Sharma, Professor Andreola and Professor Dutton will be joining us so make sure ya'll are prepared."

As soon as the pledges had left the room, you wrapped your arms around Rhett's waist, kissing his shoulder hidden beneath the fabric of his blue button-down while a teasing finger found its way into the beltloop of his jeans.

"Ya know," you said. "We've got an extra two days off before the start of spring break."

You could hear the eager, needy purr in his throat as you rubbed his belly a little.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckled.

"My room.....five minutes, we'll have the whole afternoon to ourselves," he groaned as he pulled you around and buried his face in your neck, tickling you with his soft, smooth, freshly shaved cheeks.

And you gladly obliged.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #frat!rhett #frat!rhett abbott #frat!rhett abbott x reader #outer range

[bidisasterevankinard]

Fuck it Friday

Tagged by @rose-buddie and @honestlydarkprincess 💜😘

more of my Buck wears skirts in 6b au

“Hi, B-Buck,” Ravi looks him up and down at least five times before pinching his arm.

“Oh, h-hi Ravi,” Buck tries to smile, but he has the same heavy feeling in his chest that has been sitting in his stomach since the morning. Now it has become many times larger and slightly prevents him from breathing. But he tries to stay confident. Because he likes the way he looks.

“You look amazing,” Ravi smiles sincerely, looking into Buck's eyes. “This skirt suits you very well. But it's a little unfair. Your legs are already attracting the attention of almost all the people around wherever we are. When we go to the bar tomorrow, I definitely won't find anyone for myself. And I'll blame you,” the young guy laughs a little. “But seriously. I'm proud of you. This outfit suits you very well. You're very beautiful. Well, you're always beautiful, but this choice of clothes clearly highlights all your virtues.”

The feeling in Buck's chest weakens, and he smiles slightly at Ravi, feeling himself blush.

“Thank you. It was a little hard to finally do something that I had been thinking about for a long time, but did not allow myself. But I feel good, although I'm a little worried,” Buck says, slightly straightening the folds on his skirt. They both don't move, blocked from the rest of the parking lot and from the entrance by the Jeep.

“And you're very handsome, Ravi, I'm sure you'll find yourself someone.”

“I won't hide I had a little crush on you, I think if I wasn't interested in one guy right now, I'd try my luck since you're single,” Ravi grins, but then adds seriously. “I'm sure the team won't have any problems. Maybe a few questions, but they love you Buck. All of you,” Buck is not surprised that Ravi understands that he is a little worried about the opinion of the team and needs a reminder that they love him. “They will be shocked for sure, but everything will be fine. But I wonder what caused the image change? ”

Tag(no pressure): @swiftiediaz @jobairdxx @alyxmastershipper @usercowboy @the-likesofus @buddiefication and everyone who wants to share

#my writing #my wip fic #my wips #buck wears skirts wip #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 spoilers #911 fox #fuck it friday #evan buck buckley #911 on fox #911

[goodnighttwincest]

Mental Illness Moment.png implored me to distract myself and thus this blog happened lmfao. LOOK if I drop this gig in a few weeks don't blame me 😭

Intro Post ٩(˃̶͈̀௰˂̶͈́)و

You can call me Ravi!!!

like the e/pic 7 character only because i steal all my names from that game

Bodily 16, POC + a system, and unapologetically proship

I don't do queer/syscourse !!

Actually dxed with ADHD, self dx autism/bp2/and Maybe bpd depending on how bad things continue playing out (bro i hate my life)

My goal for this blog? Reblog a lot of stuff, cry about antis, cry about mental illness.png, and maybe make friends???? Before I inevitably disappear again ofc

I'll mostly reblog stuff + post about personal hardships and proship stuff so if that bothers you I advise you not to follow!!

(Also hoping to rope proshippers into Idolish7 because this series needs to be infested with proshippers more. We have incest + minor/adult + toxic yaoi + power imbalance struggles you guys 🥺)

Stances + BYF

Proship/Comship/Selfship/Profic/Fujin/Whatever Dude IDK-friendly

Pro-systems of any origins; endos and non-traumagenic systems friendly (speaking as a traumagenic sys)

Pro non-contact para, pro-recovery, pro-self dx, pro-otherkin/furry/therian, pro-be a gentle and kind person to everyone (even antis) (like,, I try my best)

Pro-l0lish0!!!!!! <- from a l0licon (/r) and sh0tacon (/r + /sx)

Mostly neutral regarding radinclus but I do like twisting genders and sexualities into funny shapes. Plus I respect your choices to be whatever as long as you don't make others hurt. So.

Anti radqueer/sysmeds/terfs & transmeds/zionists

Anti rcta/transids.

RPF proship is rlly iffy... either keep it strictly to yourself and out of sight of creators or do it publicly only when people involved consent (I'm mostly using m/c/y/t as a framework here)

Strictly NO RPF shit involving child actors and children. In fiction is fine.

(I'm not very vocal about the stuff I'm against but just know that I personally dislike it lol)

BYF: I experience severe age lag and also adults terrify me due to personal trauma but feel free to follow and interact!! :') I'd prefer people around or below my bodily age to befriend me though sorry. Also I don't rlly have a DNI but take heed of the list above ig?

Umm extras? I like H/onkai S/tar R/ail and G/enshin lore I guess. And hmu if you like TennRiku/RikuTenn & TouTora plsplspls 🥺

Tags

ravi rambles a lot -> random talking

ravi rambles a lot (ill) -> mental illness vents

ravi's little things -> daily life

#introductory post #proship safe #proshipper safe #proshippers please interact #proshippers are welcome

[nopoodles]

Incorrect Quotes Tag

Rules: use this generator to make some incorrect Quotes with your characters

Tagged by @dontjudgemeimawriter

Using characters from Welcome To Humanity because it's release day and also because the first one was so fckn poignant for those characters.

Blue: I'm feeling it! What am I feeling? Death, probably.

Petite: Maybe the real monster was the friends we both literally and figuratively murdered along the way.

Ravi: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate

Petite: I got grounded for a whole week just because I came home late.

Blue: Well, you deserved it. I mean, getting everyone's hopes up like that and then showing up again.

Blue: That sounds super! Doesn’t that sound super, Petite?

Petite: No.

Blue: I think I speak for Petite when I say it sounds really super.

Ravi: Yeah, well I've never died so how do I know that god is real. [Ravi, you did die, that was a pretty significant thing that happened before the book starts]

Ravi: What situation is not instantly improved by the addition of fishnets, I ask you.

Blue: Being a fish.

Ravi: Well, shit.

Ravi: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

Blue, turning to Petite: How tall are you?

Petite, near tears: Please, Blue, I don’t speak meme! I don't know what a 'yeet' is

Petite: Blue! I thought you were dead!

Blue: No, just in deep cover.

Petite: ...But it was an open casket.

Blue: It was very deep

*

As for people to be betagged with absolutely zero pressure to actually do the tag if you don't want to: @avrablake @asher-orion-writes release day took a lot of brain power. Pls consider yourself tagged if this sounds like fun

#tag games! #incorrect quotes tag #welcome to humanity

[bibuddie]

wip wednesday

alrighty been tagged by @queerbitchdiaz @capseycartwright @jacksadventuresinwriting @ekstasisandangst @madneyfiles @prettyboyandthekid @queerpanikkar wowza thank u besties!! <3333 here's some. well. words for you.

Buck bites into his first brownie, and Eddie sees the moment he regrets his decision instantaneously. Because to most people, sure, Buck's smiling and his eyes are crinkling at the corners, so it appears like he must like it. But Eddie knows Buck. In some ways, better than he knows himself. So he sees the tension in Buck's shoulders and the way his smile is wavering and the slight crease between his brows. He's not saying anything, but his body language is saying everything.

"That bad, huh?" Eddie winces.

Buck swallows thickly, wetting his lips as he leans forward to grab his water bottle from the table. "I mean, I wouldn't say that—"

"Sebastian?" Eddie interrupts, turning to the only person present without vested interest in him personally. The man looks up from the napkin in his hand wide eyed, looking over at Ravi who is doing an extremely bad job at hiding the gesture he's making. He may as well be holding a massive neon sign that says DO NOT ENGAGE.

"Well," Sebastian begins, wiping at his mouth in an obvious attempt to buy time. "In terms of the Great British Bake Off, you wouldn't make it past week one."

Eddie blinks at Sebastian, then at Ravi who's gone an interesting shade of red. "You guys watch GBBO?"

"You too?!" Ravi gapes, and Eddie feels the way his own cheeks flush, crimson flaring down his cheeks into his neck.

"...I dabble."

"Clearly not enough." He hears Chim mumble, gaining a badly disguised snort from Hen that she does an awful job of disguising behind a cough. "You should stick to the day job, Diaz."

i'm convinced these will be double tags but uh @gayravi @hoediaz @gayeddiaz @buddiemidnights @mmtions & anyone else who hasn't been already, consider yourself tagged!!

#rebecca writes #wip wednesday #jsyk i despise this fic but what can you do besties it just be like that sometimes

[daefsoulmate-blog]

Remember that time when VIXX had an interview on a show in Brazil and the MC said something...interesting

#vixx #memes #not fake subs #tag yourself i'm ravi

[tatiana-petrovna]

seven stars

I dreamed you, I wished for your existence...If I love you, it must be because we have shared at some time the same imaginings, the same madness, the same stage. - anais nin

fandom: paper year (that's a lie this is really just for the Hamish Linklater girlies) pairing: noah bearinger x 2nd person OFC (kitsa hazani) summary: when noah bearinger's latest play script gets picked up by a new york theatre company, he moves back to manhattan to co-direct. the moment you walk into auditions, he knows he wants you for the lead. warnings: age difference (older m/younger f 21+), director/leading actress, extramarital affair, choking mention a/n: if you haven't read the greek myth of ariadne this is going to get confusing so please do that first :) also yes I'm picturing Rahul Kohli for Ravi. You're welcome.

playlist

tag list: @plainlo-inthemorning

New York City, Manhattan

You stand in the hallway outside of the theatre auditorium, pacing lazily as you recite the words to yourself. His words.

It’s a painfully stunning script. And you want this, bad.

Not just some random role in the ensemble. No, you want Ariadne. Something in you just vibrates when you read her lines. Like you know this part was written for you. Like you were put on this earth in this place and this time to bring these words to life. And you’re known as one of the best actresses in the Manhattan theatre community. Hell, you just finished five months on Broadway as Persephone in Hadestown. You’re not just talented, you’re adaptable, friendly, easy to work with, you always try to bring a positive energy to rehearsals. People really like you. But still, your insides are a ruckus of angry butterfly wings.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the pockets of light and shadow in the theatre when you stand on the empty stage. Across the room, his big brown eyes meet yours and something just clicks. The whole world seems to melt away and suddenly, it’s like the Lower East Side belongs to just the two of you.

You’re fairly certain that’s him. Noah Bearinger. The script’s author and now a co-director on the piece. For all intents and purposes, he is omnipotent in this moment. As god-like in this room as any of the producers. Perhaps more so. After all, it’s his vision they’re here to cast. If he doesn’t like the look of you for this role, you’re gone - no matter how well you read.

Thankfully, he does like the look of you. Very much so. You can feel that from across the room, like Jupiter pulling you helplessly into its orbit.

It’s second nature for an actress to want to read poetic monologues with a Shakespearan sort of cadence. And it can be hard to fight the instinct after so many years of classical training. But you know he’ll have heard it spun that way a hundred times today. Instead, you do your best at something between stream-of-consciousness and panic attack style muttering. Like you’re reading Reservation Blues, gift wrapped as a Greek tragedy.

You pace across the stage, like Ariadne pacing across the beach of Naxos after she’s been abandoned. Then sit and study the stage lights as if they’re constellations. All while lamenting and cursing Theseus’ name. Your father’s name. The minotaur. Your grandfathers, Zeus and Helios. You open yourself to her anger and let it course through you like a glacier melting in spring. Her shame at trusting her fate in the hands of a man becomes your own. Her desperation and fear, now sitting alone on the island shores, feels so real that your hands shake as they drag through your hair.

It’s the first audition all day that gets a standing ovation from the entire production team. As you stand to take a bow, you’re grinning so hard your smile could rival the marquee lights on opening night. Across the room, your eyes meet his again...and you just know you’ve met your Dionysus.

///

The full cast is announced a few days later and you’re thankful you know most of them. Ravi Khan will be playing your Dionysus on stage and you’re excited, because you just saw him slay Macbeth and heard he brought the house down every night for seven months straight. You know you’re in very good hands there.

The financiers (a couple from Connecticut who finish each others sentences and talk with the charming sort of cadence only rich, white northeastern gay men can) throw a party at their Soho loft after casting is officially announced. They want everyone to get together for a little ice breaking. A little team building. At least, that’s the spin. You’re fairly certain they want to meet the names that will be on their marquee.

The loft takes up three levels and comes with a rooftop garden. It’s their fourth residence in the continental US but you’ve heard they have another in Europe. You wonder if this party wasn’t also a snobbish little reminder. We’re the guys writing your paychecks and you’re just our pretty little marionettes. So don’t fuck up.

It might intimidate you more if your eyes weren’t drifting to Noah’s all night. You make a point not to talk to him, unsure what the fuck you’re supposed to make conversation about when just looking at him too closely aches. Like you’ve caught a flu you can’t quite shake.

Finally, after dinner, you excuse yourself to go up on the rooftop and smoke. That’s what you tell everyone anyway. But you’ve never smoked cigarettes a day in your life. You just need a few deep breaths of cold air before your skin burns off from the heat of Noah’s piercing gaze. You stand by the cement ledge and tip your head back in vain, looking for stars you know you won’t be able to see.

“It’s worse in LA…all the smog.” His voice calls out to you on the wind and you turn to watch him walking in your direction. As he gets closer, he eyes you playfully. “I thought you were smoking.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Well, I am. I came up here to bum a cigarette off you. And now I just look like...”

Like the older director chasing his pretty leading actress out of the party? Hmm. Couldn’t be.

You know better than to give the words a voice. You want this job so fucking bad. Almost as bad as you want him.

Gripping the cement barrier, you lean back a bit, stretching your arms. A quiet that’s thick with tension lingers between the two of you for a long string of moments.

“Your wife…?”

“Sally.”

Nodding as if you knew this and just forgot, you continue on. Who the fuck names their daughter Sally anymore? Had her parents thought it was ironically quaint? Jesus Christ…

“Right, Sally…she didn’t come?”

“Ehh, she’s grading papers. She’s a professor for UCLA but she’s doing virtual classes for them this semester and… it’s a lot.”

“English Lit?”

“Business Admin. But good guess.”

“She sounds fun.”

Your drawling sarcasm earns you a chuckle and he nods a bit.

“Uhh, she can be. Y’know, layers. Just like anyone else.”

“Well, with a name like Sally I bet the layers are just…you know. Move over onions.”

“Are you planning to be this much of a brat the entire production or did you save this energy up special just for tonight?” Turning to rest his back against the cement barrier, Noah’s smirk betrays his overbite and you can’t help the way your eyes fall there. He’s got such a pretty mouth. Like a kitten.

“Ohh no, yeah. This is just for you.” Your eyes, full of city night lights, sparkle up at him and you laugh under your breath.

His hands are cold from the night air up here and your breath hitches softly when he reaches to brush your hair back off your shoulder. He tucks it behind your ear, thumb tracing the shell of cartilage there as his eyes lose altitude. First to your mouth. Then your throat. Then the fair bit of cleavage this dress is showing off.

“How do you feel about the script? Be honest with me.” His voice is lower now. Breathier. Swallowing, you feel your features sober up a bit and you reach up to gently grip his arm.

“I’ve read it through like three times…it’s… like Mary Oliver and Anais Nin had a baby. In size eleven font.”

“That’s very high praise… thank you.” A moment of doubt flashes across his features and a wrinkle creases the space between his big brown eyes. “Wait, is it praise? I love both of those women and I just assumed…”

“Ohh, I am restless.” You sigh deeply, head tipping back as your eyes close. As an actress you don’t know how to recite poetry without performing it. Especially not Anais. “Things are calling me away...my hair is being pulled by the stars again.”

With a smirk you find his eyes again, knowing that must’ve answered his question well enough. In the back of your mind, you wonder faintly if his cool Business professor wife can do that. Watching you with eyes as hungry as an alcoholic holding a bottle of gin, you feel the pad of his thumb trace your lower lip.

“As June walked toward me from the darkness of the garden into the light of the door, I saw for the first time the most beautiful woman on earth.” His eyes flash to yours again and slowly, Noah leans over enough to rest his nose against your forehead. His words, one of your favorite Anais diary entries, are a breath across your skin. Murmured with such astounding sincerity, you’d swear they were his own spontaneous thoughts if you did not know any better. “A startling face, burning dark eyes. A face so alive I felt it would consume itself before my eyes. Years ago I tried to imagine true beauty. I...created in my mind an image of just such a woman...I had never seen her until last night. Yet I knew long ago the phosphorescent color of her skin, her huntress profile. She was color and brilliance and...strangeness…”

Leaning up on your toes, you catch his mouth in a deep kiss. And though his mouth is as cold as your own, you slide your hands under his coat and you both warm quickly against each other. You still can’t see the stars over New York City, but as he kisses you, you swear you can feel them.

///

You reach blindly across the bed until the smooth protective case that covers your phone is in your grasp. Blinking away the sleep from your eyes, you roll away from him. Checking missed texts and emails. Checking Twitter notifications. Instagram likes.

His kisses are warm trailing up your spine. Across your shoulder. Under the covers his bare arm sneaks around your middle. Flattens against your torso. The delicious heat of one large hand sinks into your skin and, as he gently pulls you back against his chest, you can’t help noting that from pinky to thumb, his hand easily traverses the width of your ribcage.

“Come back…” Long fingers brushing down your arm, he gently nudges the phone out of your grip. Normally this would irritate you. Last night shouldn’t have happened at all. He should be on his way home to his wife, riddled with guilt and trying to come up with a decent excuse.

But you feel as if there’s secrets hidden between your pages and his. Pressed there like flowers. Not just the sex. Like you both know some great cosmic joke no one else is clued in on. You’ve felt it since the audition. Since his brown eyes met yours across the theater.

Sliding your phone onto the bedside table, you roll over and bury yourself in the heat of his chest again. Arms curling around you almost protectively, he holds you snugly in place. Like you belong right here and nowhere else. His fingers brush up your spine and get lost in your soft hair.

“You make me want to rewrite this whole script…” His chuckle is low, and you can feel it deep in his chest. To anyone else, this might almost sound offensive. But from a playwright to his leading actress, it’s… almost as sacred as a prayer. “Or just write a whole new one, I dunno. Every time I’m around you my inspiration is just running wild.”

Pulling back, you can feel the lopsided smile on your face. Skimming your fingertips up over the soft skin of his upper arm. His skin is freckled, tan from spending the last decade or so in LA.

“You should write then… I don’t want you to lose it. You should chase that rabbit.”

He watches you carefully, clearly having expected a different response.

“You wouldn’t be upset? Cause… I’ll warn you, if I get started, it’s like getting sucked into another dimension. I may not come out again for eight or ten hours…or a few days even.”

Shrugging, you push yourself up and slide out of bed. You’ve always been fairly independent and you’re too creative not to empathize.

“I’m good.” Sliding on a pair of yoga pants, you dig around in your drawer for a sports bra. “I gotta get to the gym anyway. And I wanna work on my lines.”

“If I ran home to grab my laptop and then came back…”

“Yeah yeah, go for it.” Now suitably dressed, you lean over to steal a soft, smiley kiss. Nuzzle at his nose. You wonder if he knows just how sexy he looks right now, laying in your sheets with his big sleepy eyes and those salt-and-pepper curls all ruffled. You savor the knowledge that it’s your fault he looks a little bit of a mess right now.

“And then you’ll come back…” He muses happily, clearly looking forward to this part of the day. Tugging you down so you’re half resting over him, he leans back into the pillows. Lets his fingertips trace like wisps of smoke across your bare shoulder blades.

“It’s my apartment, I have to come back.” You tease him, smirking softly as if coming back to him is only coincidental to living here. As if you won’t be daydreaming about him writing in your apartment all day.

“And I’ll be here waiting. Impatiently.”

“Sally won’t miss you?” You like having him here. A lot, if you’re honest. And you don’t mind playing house for a couple of days. Coming home to him. Sharing bottles of white wine. Cuddling like foxes in winter. But you don’t particularly want to trade all that for a girlfight with a 40-something year old tenured college professor. Especially not one that can write spreadsheets.

“She’s visiting her parents in Maine. I’m free ‘til Sunday night…” His words are murmured over your jawline as he trails petal soft kisses there. Dragging a hand down your spine, Noah’s hand fits against the curve of your ass, swatting gently then squeezing. “Let me stay here with you, hmm? Please…”

“Hmm… I might not let you leave again.”

“I might not want to.”

///

“Tell me about California.” You’ve never been to the West Coast. You’ve only ever heard horror stories about the climate of west coast theatre. Chock full of Netflix rejected actors and hacked up ego-tripping directors. Maybe it’s all just hearsay. Maybe not. But sometimes you daydream about running off to California with Noah. About night riding through the Hollywood Hills real slow and watching the sun rise over Pacific Coast Highway, wrapped up in a blanket in his backseat.

“I think the only thing I really know about LA anymore is that… the whole time I was there...I was missing you.”

Your laugh gets lost on a biting autumn wind and it rustles the trees of Central Park as you walk hand in hand. He’s romantic to the point of silliness sometimes.

“You didn’t even know me then.”

“Didn’t I? The way I felt when you read my script for the audition. The way you felt saying the words. I’ve always known you. And you’ve always known me.”

“You mean you missed the idea of me…”

Squinting at the sun as it dips between the buildings that surround you, Noah’s broad shoulders give up a shrug as he contemplates your words. Weighs the truth from them.

“No…maybe? I… I don’t think time works that way. I don’t think it’s really that black and white. You and I will always be in this park. We’ll always be right here. And here. And here…” Your laughter bubbles up to meet his own as he measures his words with each step.

“Sort of like that poem? Everything carries me to you. As if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.”

His smile grows enough to crinkle his eyes when the Pablo Neruda quote registers in his mind. Nodding, he squeezes your hand. Tugs it to his lips to nuzzle your knuckles and brush a warm kiss there.

“Exactly. Each moment is infinite. Backwards, forwards. Time isn’t...us moving through space. It’s all around us. It’s a fabric.”

You try to get your head around this concept. And you suppose he’s right. But it’s hard to imagine that he actually feels that way. That this is real for him. You’re still waiting for the other boot to drop. Still waiting for him to wake up and realize you’re not enough. Still waiting for him to leave and go back to his wife.

///

His wife shows up to rehearsals and you can’t help the way your eyes drift while you sit stretching your legs on the stage floor. The way you study her like a journalist about to hammer out a biting expose.

She’s pretty, you guess. For her age. In a sort of basic Karen way.

Her eyes don’t arrest you the moment you’re in their path, like his can. She lacks the same inescapable gravitational pull. But her skin is clear. Blonde hair stylishly short. Her clothes and good posture make it obvious she comes from money.

You’re not jealous, you tell yourself as your eyes follow their every interaction. Clocking the way he rests his hand on the small of her back. The way his eyes crinkle at her charming jokes with the producers, who seem to be friends of hers. No, you’re not jealous at all.

You find yourself wondering if he’s himself in their home. The same wildly soulful and passionate man that you find in your bed most nights. Does he choke her nearly hard enough to make her pass out, then kiss the bruises? Do they lay around in messy sheets and read Greek tragedies together? Does she cook for him and let him feed her with his bare hands? Has she ever made new constellations out of his freckles and written whole stories for them?

It’s hard for you to imagine him giving himself so raw and bloody to anyone else. But maybe he does… maybe this means so much less than you want it to… maybe you’re just a fun way to pass the time…

Snapping his fingers at you, Ravi pulls you out of the clouds and back to the rehearsals happening on stage around you.

“You alright, love?” His English accent rings clear even in his chuckle.

“Hmm? Oh yeah…” Pushing up off the stage floor from where you had been stretching, you take Ravi’s outstretched hand and let him pull you to your feet. “Sorry. Too much kush before coming in.”

“And you didn’t share? Hmm. You’re lucky you’re so cute, ducks.” He shakes his head in amusement and walks you to the spike tape in place for Act III’s stage direction.

///

Nosing behind Noah’s wet ear, you drop a kiss to his shoulder. Nip as lightly as you can at his earlobe, tongue slipping out to taste his soft skin. You try desperately to ignore the way the heat of the bath water brings out the scent of his cologne in it's steam. But it’s impossible.

Nose brushing along his neck, you're pulled back to earth only by his gentle squeeze on your thigh. The low chuckle in his throat.

"You still with me, gorgeous?" You’ve been reading Marlowe's Faustus together the last couple of nights. He reads for Faustus, you for Mephistopheles. It's more fun than you might have imagined, both of you getting so into your characters that the story seems to come to life with vibrating colors.

"We had to pretend all daaay..." Your words are a breathy pout in his ear as your fingertips ghost down his chest, tracing through the soapy bath water there. "I’m still aching from it."

You’re still not sure how you manage to hide this so well at rehearsals. You suppose being an actress by trade helps. You’re paid to be a good liar. But damn if he doesn’t challenge you like no script ever has.

"Hmm..." Smirk tugging at his mouth, Noah leans back to nuzzle his scruff across your soft skin. Presses lazy kisses here and there. "I thought I had satisfied that ache upon arrival...did I not?"

Cradling his throat, you tilt his head back slowly and steal a gentle kiss. Deep and warm and wet. Kissing him is always a little like slipping back through the looking glass. Out of the maelstroms of your head and back into Wonderland.

Nuzzling at his nose, you shake your head and let a lazy smile grace your lips.

"You always satisfy me…and you always leave me aching insatiably all over again after." Thumb stroking over the evening scruff on his chin, you keep his head tilted back on your shoulder as you read from the pages of his old paperback once more. But you whisper as if the words are coming to you on the spot, sent down from the muses themselves. "Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed. In one self-place; for where we are is hell, And where hell is, there must we ever be. All places shall be hell that is not heaven."

Noah’s smile returns, warming his features to their usual buttery glow. Holding his book up a bit higher, he murmurs Faustus' line with buoyant amusement.

"Come, I think hell’s a fable."

"Ay, think so still, till experience change thy mind." Your own lilt bites back.

"Think’st thou that Faustus is so fond to imagine that after this life there is any pain? Tush, these are trifles and mere old wives’ tales."

"Gods, I haven’t thought about hell as painful in...years." You have a terrible habit of interrupting the reading with your own thoughts. Thankfully, he has yet to complain.

One finger between the pages to mark your place, he closes the book and focuses all attention on you again. Thunder rumbles closer than before, rain hitting the roof angrily.

“Something you'd like to share with the class, Ms. Hazani?” His voice is a low murmur across your jaw, nose nudging your skin encouragingly.

In these moments, Noah seems only ever to love like a gentle, deliciously warm summer rain. In your apartment, he has nothing to prove. No ego to beat you over the head with or jealousy to shackle you in. He can be a different man altogether at rehearsals. A perfectionist to the point of ruin. And you’ve felt his patience grow short more than once when you giggle at Ravi’s jokes. But here…

“Well, I guess… I don’t know. Maybe it’s because my mother is Greek. Maybe it’s… residual Persephone headspace after Hadestown? I dunno, I think of the underworld and I see… walls of blue ice. Rivers of pitch black. Feasts laid out on long tables. Groves of figs and pears and pomegranates. I see the Fields of Elysium. I don’t see pain. Not anywhere.”

Setting his book on the floor outside of the tub, Noah reaches back. Slides his warm fingers across your neck.

“Now you really sound like Ariadne.” He chuckles lazily, fingers of his free hand tugging your hand up so he can kiss the inside of your wrist.

“Ahh, I suppose that’s true.” You laugh softly, both arms resting over his shoulders, fingers brushing down his chest. “When did that change?”

“And many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, Some to everlasting life, Some to shame and everlasting contempt. Book of Daniel. Second century BCE. It’s the...mystery of Gehinnom. The sort of waiting room? Between death and coming to be with God again. I don’t think it was punishment initially. More like...a review. This is what you could’ve done better, this is what we’d like to see next time, sort of thing.”

“Sounds a lot like the critics at the Village Voice.”

Laughter shakes his broad shoulders and Noah finally pushes himself up from the bathwater that’s starting to grow cold around you. He helps you up, wrapping you in a towel and rubbing at your upper arms a bit to warm you. Fastening a towel around his slender hips, he climbs out first. Then takes your hand to help you do the same. Sure, you can do this yourself. You’ve done it a thousand times before. But you like it too much when he babies you to fuss.

“I missed you today too, you know…” His eyes find yours, wet bangs hanging around his eyes as he grabs a hand towel to gently brush a few beads of water off your forehead and cheek. “If I didn’t say it before.”

“You did…” Brushing a hand up his bare back, you step closer. The air is cool and you’re already getting goosebumps. But he’s too distracting. You never know how to walk away from him, even in your own self interest. “But I always need to hear it...just once more.”

Without warning, he scoops you up bridal style and carries you back into the bedroom. His voice is so soft, you barely hear the brush of it over your skin over the rainfall outside.

“It torments me to see you just a few hours and then surrender you...When I see you, all that I wanted to say vanishes. The time is so precious and words seem extraneous. But you make me happy…” He lays you down in your bed, and sits on the edge. For a moment, you just lay there looking up into the pooling warmth of his brown eyes.

Finally, your lungs expand around a breath and you scoot over so he can join you in bed. As you brush your towel away, you finish the Anais quote he started, enjoying that this is just an obnoxiously cute habit you’ve both cultivated.

“There is still too much sacredness clinging to you...You come and time slips away in a dream. It is only when you go that I realize completely your presence. And then it is too late. You numb me.”

Noah lets his own towel fall to the flower and you lose yourself in the heat of his skin as he pulls you into a kiss deep enough to drown you.

///

Dress rehearsals find everyone tense. So tense that even stretching hurts.

“You alright, ducks?” Sipping at his water, Ravi wanders up to you while the tech booth guys try to work out a lighting kink.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got a knot in my shoulder? Like right where it meets my neck? Every time my arm moves, my shoulder blade triggers it.” Still attempting to roll you shoulders against the pain, the grimace on your pretty face is all too obvious. Setting his water down, Ravi moves confidently behind you. Brushes the shoulders of your Grecian style dress down enough to give him better access to your neck.

“This is gunna hurt, but… my father’s a PT. My brother too. So,...”

“So, you’re the family disappointment who ran off to join the circus?” You snicker softly, well aware of the arguments he must’ve gotten into with his parents for not falling in line with the family business of medicine. Your own father is Turkish, and he’s still asking when you’re going to find a real job. You know it’s just because he loves you. But sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it makes you feel like you could win all the Tony awards and have your name lighting up every Billboard in Times Square. But you’ll still never be enough.

“So. I feel a lot less guilty about how much pain I’m about to put you in. Thanks.” He mutters through playfully gritted teeth. “And you can trust me, hmm?”

Nodding your consent, you try not to savor the warmth of his hands on your skin.

Across the auditorium, Noah’s eyes meet yours. It’s like a wrench around a bolt, the way your stomach suddenly twists. You can feel what he’s thinking. The territorial rage that simmers under his skin.

Suddenly the pain comes in a blinding flash and you whimper like a puppy that’s just been kicked. Still, you force your spine to stay straight.

“Is that too much? Should I”-

“Mm mm. Don’t stop. I think it’s almost there.” Pushing yourself back into the pressure point of his thumb, you feel yourself nearly break into a sweat at the pain. But then he’s finished. A long shuddering breath falls from your lips. “Fuck.”

Setting your dress back in place with the care of a secret lover, Ravi brushes a hand down your arm. Gently guides your wrist up so your whole shoulder has to flex in response. Over your shoulder you flash him a grin.

“Yeah? It worked?” He seems just as excited as you are and you can’t help kissing his cheek. Maybe in earnest appreciation. Maybe in hopes of getting back at Noah for going home to his wife on weeknights.

“Yeah. Thank you so much, Dr. Khan.”

“Ahh. Well… I do home visits as well.” He slips you a cheeky wink and you giggle as Noah climbs up on stage.

“Alright, let’s take lunch guys. I don’t think this lighting thing is getting fixed any time soon. Might as well get some food into you.” You can hear the casual impatience in his voice and when he snaps his fingers at you, you have to raise an eyebrow. It takes every cell of restraint in your body not to quip about him calling you back like a poodle. “Miss Hazani, can I speak to you in my office?”

Ravi gives you a look like you’re being called to the principal’s office and you roll your eyes as if indignant. Still, you nod respectfully and trail after Noah anyway. Good little poodle, you think to yourself. The door is barely closed before he’s laying into you.

“If you thought that was cute, it wasn’t.” The hurt in his eyes makes you feel as if you’ve slapped him in front of everyone.

“I...I had a knot in my back. He was just helping me. I swear, that’s all it was.”

“Oh, don’t stop Ravi. I’m almost there, Ravi. Yeah I can see how that was entirely innocent.” Eyeing you pointedly, one hand finds his hip while the other rests against his desk. With you in between him and the desk, this movement effectively pins you in place. But it’s hard to be intimidated by a man who practically worships at your altar every night.

“Hey, when is it bring your wife to work day again? I wanted to make Sally some muffins.”

“Thursday and she has a gluten allergy.” He tips his head in a deadpan, as susceptible to the pull of your sarcasm as ever.

“Aww. I’ve been meaning to pick up one of those. So on trend.”

Sucking in a breath, Noah glances down for a moment trying to find his patience on the linoleum floor. No such luck. Leaning in closer, his thumb and index finger flirt with the soft skin of your chin.

“We’ve got two weeks. I need you to focus. Can you do that for me, please?”

“Since you asked so nicely…” Brushing a hand down his chest, you finger one of the white buttons there. Then sigh softly. If you’re truly honest with yourself, you know he’s right. You know you were playing the brat to get his attention. To feel a little better about having to share him. Conceding a nod, you lean in to rest your head against his shoulder. His fingers brush through the strands and you spend your whole lunch break like that. Just letting him hold you like a little lapdog.

///

You haven’t seen him outside of work in a week because, with fall break in full swing, Sally is finally home for more than a few hours at night and suddenly she wants to make things “work”. You check your phone more than you should, only to feel your stomach tighten harshly around its own acids.

No new messages.

No new messages.

No new messages.

Running on coffee and mints, you go up town looking for adderall from your friends in the Financial District. It’s enough to get you through rehearsals. Through thanksgiving with your parents in Rhode Island. The Sunday night when everyone finally returns to Manhattan, you all decide a cast dinner is just what you need.

You pull out the sexiest little velvet dress you own and do your hair and makeup real glam. To add insult to injury, you arrive fashionably late and sit on Ravi’s lap because “there’s no good seats left”. There’s a part of you that’s always known he would be the better choice.

But every time you lean to whisper in his ear, your eyes are brushing around his shoulders to lock on Noah’s.

///

A week later, opening night brings the house down. Afterwards, the theatre company’s financiers host a huge party in honor of the success. Everyone is eating and laughing. Except you.

Despite all the accolades, you’re drinking too much. Seething as you watch Noah cuddle up to Sally all evening like they’re newlyweds.

He tries to motion with his head for you to meet him upstairs. But he’s a little late for a quick fuck. You are way too drunk to do anything but pound the steps up to the rooftop with your heeled boots as if marching into battle.

“Are you like...getting back at me for dinner the other night? Is that what this is?” The air on the industrial loft rooftop is frigid and you barely escape the stairwell before turning on him.

“Are you seriously pretending that your behavior at dinner was about Ravi and not us?” Shoving his hands in his pockets, his broad shoulders hunch up against the cold.

“My behavior? What are you, my father?”

“Sometimes I kinda feel like I am. Like right now, when you’re acting out because your feelings got hurt.”

“Oh, but that’s not what you’re doing. ‘Cause you’re older than me. And a man. And so much fucking wiser, right? So this isn’t a tantrum. This isn’t jealousy. This is all my own fault.”

“I’m married, Kitsa. If I stick by her all night and kiss her head and wrap an arm around her it’s to keep from having my every move dissected when we get home. It’s to keep the rumor mill from shutting down funding on my next project. If you flirt with Ravi and sit in his lap at cast dinners it’s just giggled off by everybody. It’s just fucking fun for you. That in there is not fun for me. There is a politics to marriage that you cannot begin to understand.”

For just a moment, the sharp edge of your anger softens. You feel sympathy start its clawing and biting. But then you remember all the times you’ve glanced at your phone the last two weeks, waiting for him to call. Feeling the abandonment like a stabbing ice pick. Your jaw tightens. Stepping forward, you glare up at him defiantly.

“You are a grown man. If you find yourself anywhere, it’s because that’s exactly where you want to be.”

You turn on your heel to leave, but he grips your arm and pulls you back. Tugging his jacket off, Noah sets the shoulders of it around your own. Despite your burning rage, you pull the jacket tighter around your petite frame. You can’t say the heat is unwelcome against the December chill. Neither is the scent of his cologne.

“Then you might want to ask yourself why I’m up here arguing with you when there’s a whole party going on downstairs where everyone is toasting my name.”

The words hit you like a smack to the cheek and you’re left in silence for several moments as you digest them. Finally shuffling closer into his too-tall frame, you force the words out that you know he needs to hear. Though you sound meak as a city mouse in your attempt.

“We should stop…”

His long fingers are icy cold as they tangle loosely through your own. Gently, but firmly, they tug you against him.

“Tell me how. Cause I’ve been trying. I have. And…”

You hadn’t considered that. That maybe the past two weeks had been about him making an attempt at cutting things off. At reconnecting with his wife. That maybe he’d been failing miserably. Shaking your head, you fight the desperation to cave in that’s clawing around at your insides.

“But you’re never going to leave her, Noah… So what the fucking point of any of this?”

Finally, he drags in a breath. Rubs at his tired eyes.. When you tip your head back to find his gaze you can see his jaw flexing.

“Leave with me. After the show has its run. After the checks clear… we can go anywhere.”

“Don’t fuck with me.” You warn him, vulnerability clear-cut in your eyes.

“I mean it. Costa Rica. Belize. Panama. Argentina. We’ll go get lost where no one can find us. I’m serious, Kitsa.”

“My family…” You realize if you accept, you might never see them again. Or at least, not for a while. Not until the dust settles.

“There’s no reason they can’t come visit. And I can still write there. You can still act. We’ll be fine. Just give me some time to talk to a lawyer. Get things in order first, hmm?” As he tucks your hair back behind one ear, you can feel yourself nodding. You know it’s stupid to believe him. To let yourself picture that life with him.

“I guess I should start learning Spanish…” You joke through the wetness of tears that threaten to ruin your makeup. Pulling you closer, Noah laughs with you and drops a firm kiss to your head. Nuzzles into your hair.

“I’m going to give you the crown you deserve. All seven stars.”

#hamish linklater x reader #noah bearinger x reader #my writing #idek what to tag this as because it's half based on paper year and half based on the christina ricci thing and half on paul lol #like at this point I'm just #a sad bundle of needy needy hormones #c: kitsa hazani

[donatolucy]

seven sentence sunday / last lines challenge (thank you @trippedandfell for the tag!)

content note: discussions of death/childhood terminal illness

Ravi stops himself, looking up at the ceiling and doing his best to pretend he’s not suddenly blinking back tears. A breath, a deep one, in and out, as he tries to center himself. He’s not over it, the friends he lost-the way sometimes they’d go quick, unexpected, and other times he’d had to watch them slip away for weeks, for months, like they’d spent the whole friendship just dying-

Ravi doesn’t know if that’s something you ever fully get over.

But he breathes through the flash of hurt, of loss, and thinks about the ring of the bell every time someone is cancer free. Thinks about the letter Rupert wrote to Callie. Thinks about the coffee shop Bobby brought him to after the prison and how sometimes he still goes there on hard days, sits in the corner in the middle of the morning rush and lets the noise drown out his thoughts.

The bar is loud the way all bars are-laughter and glasses clinking, dozens of voices from every angle of the room crowding together in a chaotic symphony, vibrant and unapologetic and alive.

“The thing is, people leave, Buck. Whether they want to or not, sometimes, and even if you’re perfect? Even if you’re the best possible version of yourself, people can still leave because it’s not up to them, or up to you, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

“So what, I just-give up? Accept being alone?” Buck asks, his voice cracking on the last word.

tbh i have not been on here long enough to have anyone to tag who hasn't already done it i'm pretty sure but consider this a tag if you see this and want to do it!

#tag game #my fic #i'm not entirely sure if this was supposed to just be seven sentences but this is the chunk i am currently working on #and none of the other bits can stand alone on less and make any sense so #anyway the probie becomes the teacher etc etc we all have our own journeys and tools to help