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#theyre so happy pls
gunsatthaphan · 6 months
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#salty.
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comfortyart · 1 year
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♡Safe♡
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likeanageoldclassic · 6 months
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how it started vs how it’s going
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ickyguts · 11 months
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so anyway I love these two dorks with all my heart
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lil--fin · 9 months
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Comfy Old Leopika :)
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softavasilva · 1 year
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Kristina Tonteri-Young featured on Timid Magazine
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awakeanytime · 2 years
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It’s a tender kind of hurt, I think.
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inpursuitofnunchi · 12 days
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THE FIRST THING SHE SAID TO HIM AFTER WAKING UP IS I LOVE YOU 😭😭😭😭😭
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frnkiebby · 17 days
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pls i love them~🎃
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hellcifrogs · 8 months
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How would you have the canon pairings in naruto get together if you had total creative control? :00
THEY ALL LITERALLY JUST NEED TO *TALK* 😭
Naruto and Hinata needed to interact more, and Neji should not have to die for them to have a reason to finally talk again. (I mean interact throughout the whole series, from part 1, and also after Hinata's confession!? Pls!!)
Sai and Ino would both have to be introduced as their own people from the start and not Sakura/Sasuke's substitutes/foils and also talk to each other. I love them both and it felt like they were just "the spares" for sasusaku! ;-;
To suggest anything for Chouji and Karui I'd first need to now how did that even happen. When did they even meet? Did they ever talk??
Shikamaru and Temari are okay? Better than the rest at least, but as a character Shikamaru still needed to learn to treat women better by the end of the series and I cannot see how someone like Temari of all people would ever go along with that. Other than that they're fine.
Finally Sasuke and Sakura? Oh god I would need Sakura to get over her crush!! So that they could start over and Sasuke could have the chance to earn her feelings back properly. I like to think how the scene where she fails to kill him could have been useful for that if, instead of hesitating because of her feelings, she hesitated because she was afraid to end what team 7 once had and also because it would hurt Naruto. After the war they could go back to how it was as genins, but now as actual friends and then I could see the relationship develop.
In conclusion: Details aside, they all needed more interactions!!
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WHYS IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE ENGAGEMENT CONGRATS BBGIRLS AAAAA IM FUCKING BURSTING WITH EXCITEMENT
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GOD I LOVE LUCIUS AND PETE SO GODDAMN MUCH AAAHHDJEJJDJDJEISIS
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jamespottersmixtape · 8 months
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september 9: ocean 1,118 words @rosekiller-microfic
Beach day! Just them being stupid and soft and in love :,)
Evan stretches his arms and legs languidly across the beach towel he's laying on. The fabric is littered with warm sand that has long since fallen off of his body, leaving behind patches of sunscreen where it clashed with the water. He can smell the salt drying in his hair, a breeze hitting his face as he squints at the sky.
It's days like today that make Evan believe in perfection—or, as close to perfection as something can get. The weather is lovely, bright sun and a cloudless sky, a cooling wind coming in from the west. The ocean waves lap against the shore in small swells, cold but bearable for swimming in the heat, and the sound of the water is a calming lull, set to draw people into it's shimmering depths.
He can hear children laughing with their parents, splashing and making sandcastles without a care in the world. It almost makes him ache for the childhood he never got—his family too hung up on stuffy suits and formal dinners to register what their kids might want—but he's past that now. That life is far behind him and not once has Evan ever looked back. Besides, he's far too content to sit and dwell on the past right now. He'd much rather bask in everything the coast has to offer him, and continue to ignore whoever keeps shouting his name in the distance.
He smiles to himself. Everything is perfect.
"Evan!"
He internally groans and closes his eyes. Maybe whoever is yelling will think he's asleep and decide not to bother him.
"Evann!!"
The voice is getting closer now. He thought everyone went to get snacks? Who is yelling? Why are they yelling?
"EVAN!" Before he knows it the voice is directly above him, and an entire bottle of water is being dumped on his face.
He startles with a very unmanly yelp, his eyes flying open to find Barty keeled over in laughter, water bottle in hand, and Regulus standing next to him looking rather irritated. "What the fuck?!" Evan asks, wiping the dripping water from his cheeks.
"What do you mean, what the fuck, we've been calling you for two minutes," Regulus huffs, taking a small step away from Barty as he chokes out the rest of his laughs.
Evan glares at the pair of them. "Why?"
"They ran out of cookies and cream," Barty shrugs, laughter still evident in the way his eyes are lit up.
"You–" he sighs, running fingers through his tangled wet hair. "You dumped water on me because they ran out of my favorite ice cream?" Sometimes Evan can't believe he fell in love with this man.
"We didn't know what else you wanted," Regulus says flatly. Evan can tell he's trying to hold back a smile. Asshole.
Evan scoffs, getting up from his now soaked towel and grumbling something along the lines of been my friends for 12 years and can't even remember what ice cream I like.
"Look, my fucking hair is all wet again. I just spent an hour drying off and you ruined it," he pouts, shoving a finger harshly into Barty's chest; they both know there's no bite beneath his words.
Barty snorts, taking Evan's hand in his as they walk towards the small ice cream shop located right off the beach. "You should've seen your face baby."
Evan's cheeks heat at the term of endearment. He can't remember when Barty started calling him that, but one day it appeared and never left, a new staple in Barty's 'Evan vocabulary'. Evan can't say he minds, in fact he's grown rather fond of the name.
"Dickhead," he grumbles in retaliation. "You're mean."
"Mmm, but that's why you love me." Barty presses a quick and sloppy kiss to his cheek before he can duck his head.
He rolls his eyes but returns the favor. He can taste the sweat and salt clinging to Barty's skin.
Regulus interrupts with a loud gagging noise. "You two are so fucking weird," he says, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
They get their ice cream without any more hiccups, Evan settling for salted caramel instead and Barty for an obscure chocolate combination. He doesn't even know why they get their own flavors really, him and Barty always trade halfway through—but he supposes that's the fun of it.
The four of them—it's just him, Barty, Regulus, and James today—spend the rest of the afternoon in and out of the water. They sunbathe, James hits a volleyball around—even roping Barty into a game or two, something Evan never would've seen coming—and Evan manages to carry Barty's lanky frame all the way to the shoreline to toss him in. It was revenge, okay?
By the time the sun is setting the two couples are sprawled a short distance from each other, watching the pink and orange hues dance along the horizon before the stars come out to play.
Evan has his back to Barty's chest, resting between his legs with both their hands entwined over Evan's stomach. Every so often Barty presses a kiss to Evan's temple.
It's rare for the two of them to have such tender moments like this, especially in the company of others. Usually they reserve their soft touches and quiet whispers for the tranquility of the morning or weekends at home, but it's a nice change to be so open with vulnerable affection.
"Today was fun," Evan yawns, his body finally catching up with the day's exhaustion.
Barty hums in agreement. “I’m gonna get you back for throwing me in the ocean though,” he murmurs, nipping at Evan’s earlobe.
“Excuse me, that was my payback.”
“Just saying," he lulls in a sing-song voice. "You better watch your back Ev.”
"I'll be sure to sleep with one eye open."
They both laugh at that, content and serene in the little bubble they've created. Evan tries to snuggle further into Barty's chest but to no avail. Barty lets him drop against the towel, swinging himself over Evan's body so his face hovers inches above his.
Evan raises an eyebrow. Barty's grin is devilish when it breaks across his face. He leans down and slots their lips together for a quick kiss, one filled with sun and ice cream and salty air.
When Barty speaks it's low, just for the two of them. A quiet I love you exchanged between an inhale and exhale. Three words that always open the floodgates to Evan's guarded heart.
The day ends with the two of them curled up on their sides, legs tangled and clothes dusted with sand as the last sliver of light dips below the water.
Evan couldn't ask for anything better.
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monismochi · 9 months
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Idk who needs to hear this but like
Nothing about jimins and jungkooks relationship is performative and whatever the heck it is (familial, platonic, romantic, etc etc etc) it's undeniably real and the only thing that keeps me with faith in humanity
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urie9158 · 3 months
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IS2G THIS FOOL KDJ BETTER ACTUALLY BE SAVED WHEN I REACH THE END OF CH 551!!!! IF ALL OF KIMCOMS EFFORTS GO TO WASTE....
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revasserium · 10 months
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I'm sending a Leon request with a prompt that has tickled the back of my mind ever since I read it on list of gesture prompts. I know you can find a way to make this magic:
possessive hand-holding
ikemen reqs r open u__u thank u @violettduchess i hope u like this... mess LOL
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these hands, like gods
leon; 1,059 words; so very nearly nsfw... but not rly... oh yeah, and i simp shakespeare in case yall didnt know...
it always comes back to shakespeare, the damnable bard, a poet to end all poets — a storyteller, a truth-seeker, a dream-spinner; leon used to have to try to stay awake with a book propped in his lap. and now, he wishes his dreams could be half as breathless as all his momentary realities.
“so… they both die at the end?”
you laugh, pressing a finger to his lips; he catches it in his own hand, skimming a kiss by your wrist.
“shh… spoilers!”
leon blinks, still chasing shivers up the length of your arm, kissing you till you’re breathless and his lips are at the base of your throat.
“i thought it was a classic — doesn’t everyone know how it ends already?”
you crinkle your nose, and he kisses that too.
“you didn’t, and it says so in the opening paragraph!” and though there’s nothing accusatory in your tone, he still cocks his head and smirks.
“i do now — and what can i say? i’m hooked,” he says, his voice a bone-deep rumble as it works up through his chest into yours, “you should take responsibility.”
“f-for what? making you more cultured?”
leon scoffs then, propping himself up on an elbow as he lays next to you, the pair of you for once blessedly alone in your chambers, the now-finished play about star-crossed lovers lying face down on the sheets next to you. languidly, almost lazily, he draws his hand up over your arm, tracing an absent finger along the ridge of your collarbones.
“hmmm… i don’t know if cultured is the right word for it,” he muses, and for a moment, you’re caught in the sweep of his dark lashes, in the knife-sharp intensity caught behind his eyes, like shards of shattered glass, making fractals of the afternoon light. “more like… creative.”
and his fingers find yours, lacing one through another, curling, pressing, the movement slow and sure and somehow sensual in a way that you never realized that hands could be. but of course — of course they could be. and you love his hands, don’t you? you love the wide and warmth of them, the length of his fingers, the tan of his skin, the quickness and the certainty with which he wields sword and shield both.
you press your palm to his and smile.
“then…” you let your eyes flutter closed as his other hand trails up the back of your neck, fingers twisting in your hair, tugging ever so gently; you swallow, you gasp, you let yourself be pressed into the soft of the silken sheets, “get creative.”
leon hums, and there’s dare buried somewhere deep his throat, curling up like a purr or a growl or something smack in the middle and just as delicious.
“yeah… what was that line you liked so much again?” he asks, grazing his lips along your cheeks, pulling your hand above your head to pin it there.
“a-and palm to palm,” you recite, your breaths coming quick in your chest now, a burning, twisting heat curling up into the soft of your face, making the tips of your ears go hot, “is h-holy palmer’s kiss — ah —”
you bite your lips as leon grazes his teeth along your neck.
“mhm… then let lips do what hands do… right?” he leans back if only to catch your lips in his, the world falling away in the gravity of him and you, the push and pull, the rise and fall of bodies and breaths, and it is chasing and catching and kissing and breathing, and it is letting go too — but never your hands. always, they stay closed, twisted, entwined. even as one kiss breaks into another, and another, the friction of palm on palm never ceases.
they pray… lest faith turns to despair…
“but no despair for you, i think,” leon had said when you’d first read him the passage aloud, admitting that it’s one of your favorites, and you’d blushed like you do, because of course — of course. what else had there been to do?
“and no death for you, either,” you’d chided, because that was always a more pressing concern.
leon had shrugged, grinning as he looks back at the text, tracing his fingers beneath the well-inked lines.
“well… there’s one kind of death i wouldn’t mind…”
you’d frowned, watched him carefully. but his grin had been cat-like, almost leonine.
“a kind of death?”
“yes — ‘la petit mort’ — you know what it means?” and by now, his smile had gone cheshire-wide and it takes you a moment before you’d squawked and tried to bury your face in the nearest soft thing. which had, incidentally, been your hands.
“leon!”
and he’d laughed, breaking over the sound, leaning back, his shoulders shaking, his eyes cast up and closed, the sound of it sweet and warm as honey.
but now, like this, with your hand held in his, pinned over your head, his lips pressed to the pulse of your heart, your throat bared, your mind unwinding and askew as he trails his free hand along the bend of your waist, you can’t help thinking that he’s right.
if there is a kind of death to pray for… it would be this.
no despair for either of us, you think rather defiantly, only pleasure.
you make yourself that promise as you tug leon up for another soul-searing kiss.
and no death but this one kind, you think as he grins against your lips, striking fire inside you as kindling to a flame, setting you ablaze.
“look at me,” he says, his voice gentle, and you do. you look at him, and in him you find everything — everything you had ever searched for, every truth, every poem, every fairy-tale ending. every story that your body had ever wanted to tell.
“kiss me,” you say. and he does.
and as his hand slowly makes it’s way back up the side of your body to tug at the layers still keeping you apart, you let yourself be lost. you curl your fingers around his, feel the heat of his palm against yours.
you close your eyes — and pray.
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untealted · 1 year
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*SPY X FAMILY SPOILERS*
ABSJBSJS-
IM VIBRATING
I-
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IM GOING ABSOLUTELY FERAL
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