#I’m genuinely just going to combust entirely
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
Ok ok so I had a thought. Imagine you bite Vash’s neck and he accidentally calls you daddy. He would be blushing and stuttering and trying to apologize only for you to tell him you like it and to do it again.
Sorry, that’s all I can say to this. Like I can see it in my head and then I just black out after. It’s too much for me, and my little brain, and my little heart to handle
#my dick can’t handle it either but we don’t need to talk about her owo#I’m genuinely just going to combust entirely#burst into flames#and what then?#I need to lay down#and nap#lest these impure thoughts take over frfr#I’m gonna go scream in my pillow for exactly 30 years#color: red 🎨#stari ❤️#{freelance}
1 note
·
View note
Text
How’d they act if you called them pretty upon getting catch looking at them…
Dan Heng: blushes. Hard.
He’s not use to someone complimenting his looks as it’s not something he finds important.
‘Are you really that shameless to say such things aloud?’ He’d say while avoiding eye contact with you.
Dan Heng would act as though you just shouted this out loud in front a hoard of people, even though you didn’t.
He’s awkward when it comes to taking compliments aimed his way but his reaction is too fucking cute to ignore and will warrant another compliment his way, which will only serve in making his face brunt redder.
‘Shut up, please.’ He’d plead as he covers a hand over your eyes, feeling as though they’ve stared deeply into his soul and actually see him as a whole person and more. ‘You talk too much about things you don’t understand the first thing of.’
He’s probably going to get teased by March 7th after this and it’ll be used as blackmail, probably.
Give him a moment to breath and calm down before complimenting on how pretty he is because he will combust from how flustered he is.
Argenti: would probably start a compliment war in all honesty because how can you say he’s pretty without admitting that you are also quite a sight for sore eyes.
If you were to compliment his hair, he’d resort back with how even the stars put on their best performance within your presence.
He’s got such a way with words that can easily leave one flustered without even trying. He’d even wax poetry on the spot about how the light catches your eyes in a way similar to that of a kaleidoscope, bright, vibrant and above all breathtaking.
Argenti doesn’t hold back, will not hold back, and will not back down from letting you know just how ethereal you look to him.
He can do this all day, you however could not do this all day seeing how this man has unlimited ammunition when it came to complimenting the beauty of pretty much everything.
(I mean this is the same dude who complimented a plant. 🪴 I bet that plant blushed, we just didn’t see it bc who wouldn’t blush if a chivalrous red head complimented them?)
Welt: smiles softly as a light blush coated his cheeks.
He’s well kept for someone who’s in his 60/70/80’s And he deserves to be told as such!
(all I know is that he’s grandpa age from other ppl)
So when you do compliment him and call him pretty, this old man is going to thank you for such kind words and probably give you head pats as a reward.
He appreciates a kind compliment now and then.
‘Why thank you, I try my best to keep in good shape if I’m meant to keep up with all of you.’ He would say in response followed by a chuckle.
Welt is young at heart and knows that his body isn’t how it once was but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a restless spirit within an old man’s body. So when you compliment him, it only makes him feel good and warm on the inside.
Blade: doesn’t know how to take compliments.
He’s not use to it and doesn’t know how to react to it other than saying something along the lines of;
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’
Or just straight up. ‘No.’
And all the while his face is like this: 😐 or this 😒
It’s never one or the other, blade just doesn’t view himself worth the compliment, when the only things about him that people see most is that he’s a bad dude in a bad group doing bad things.
He doesn’t see why you’re wasting a kind, genuine compliment on someone whose entire body is riddled in ugly scars.
Blade is the type of person where you’d have to prove that your compliment is genuine or else he just won’t believe it.
Sampo: his ego is boosted to the max.
Well done you’ve made him even more insufferable.
He will smile that Cheshire smile of his and ask to hear what else about him you find appealing besides his pretty face.
You: your exposed hips, you slut-
However behind his cocky persona, he’s a giggly bitch who’s mentally kicking his feet and writing this interaction in his bubblegum pink diary with a glitter pen.
Sampo is deeply invested in what you thought about the rest of him but won’t let it show as he would consider it ‘out of character’ for himself. So he’ll continue to act the cocky and confident fool like he always does.
He’ll be the type to tease you about potentially killing him while internally screaming himself and telling other people that you find him pretty, much to your embarrassment.
‘You see them over there? Yeah they called ol’ Sampo pretty!’ He’d say to a random person while pointing towards you as you try to hide yourself behind a trash can…only for the trash can to grow arms and legs and walk off elsewhere.
Why were the arms and legs buff as fuck? What was their workout routine? You must know. now.
Sunday: takes the compliment in kind.
He looks like the type to get called handsome or pretty on the daily, so it’s nothing new to him but he’ll take the compliment nonetheless.
He’s probably the most calm out of the bunch when being called pretty, besides from maybe Welt.
He’s not bashful, he’s not overtly arrogant and he’s not in denial about it either. He just takes the compliment as it is and goes on about his day like any other.
Though people would take note on how he’s smiling brighter than usual. Your compliment would stay with him the entire day, as it serves as a reminder of his place within your heart and he’s secretly scheming on ways on how to stay within your heart.
Permanently.
#hsr fanfic#hsr imagines#hsr imagine#hsr x reader#hsr blade x reader#hsr blade x you#hsr x you#blade x reader#blade imagines#blade imagine#welt yang x reader#welt Yang imagines#welt Yang imagine#sampo x reader#sampo x you#sampo imagines#dan heng x reader#Dan heng imagines#Dan heng imagine#sunday x reader#Sunday imagine#Sunday imagines#argenti x reader#Argenti imagines#argenti x you#argenti imagine#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#Honkai star rail imagines
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
THIS IS BASICALLY ALREADY A CONFESSION!
“I’m going to confess to you on Valentines Day, so wait for me after school.” “Eh?” “You’re free after school, right?” “Mm…” “So wait for me, okay?” “Okay.” “Why is your face all red?” “Because you basically already confessed.” “Ah! Forget I said anything.”
gn!reader (you/your), this unfortunately will not take place on the specific date of Valentine’s (cough cough), you’re the one who (not so) accidentally confessed your evil plan to them lol
notes; yeah i did get inspired by that one tiktok audio, what are YOU gonna do about it? hahaha. >:333
Oh, he’s either undeniably red, or just really shocked. Why would you tell him your plan? Seriously? Doesn’t that defeat the whole point of a confession? But he can’t stop thinking about if you’re going to confess to him later, considering you practically just told him.
Wait, was this your confession plan all along?!
Riddle Rosehearts, Ruggie Bucchi, Epel Felmier, Azul Ashengrotto, Idia Shroud
He’s so… confused? Hey, it’s okay if it was accidental! He’s not judging you, but.. Wouldn’t you have already known you were confession you were saying you were going to confess to him? Wait, was this on purpose or accidental?!
Were you knowingly toying with him—?
Deuce Spade, Trey Clover, Kalim Al-Asim
Very much amused by your antics, thank you for entertaining him. He would love to say yes, but why not entertain him a bit more? In fact, he’ll even pretend he didn’t hear your entire plan, or maybe he’ll HELP you with your confession scheme. Why not? It’s funny to him.
Jade Leech, Lilia Vanrouge, Rook Hunt
Completely ignoring the fact you basically confessed to him, he lectures gives you advice on how to actually confess; for one, DON’T TELL YOUR CRUSH YOUR PLAN.
Riddle Rosehearts (II), Sebek Zigvolt,
…What are you doing? Why would you do this to him? Are you being for real right now? Mildly disappointed if you are, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s going to say no. Of course, do better next time you confess. In fact, confess to him right now, but properly!
Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, Sebek Zigvolt (II)
Laughs at you for it. How dumb could you possibly be (in the most loving way possible)? Of course he’ll accept your confessi— Please stop repeatedly hitting him for laughing at you.
Ace Trappola, Ruggie Bucchi, Floyd Leech (I genuinely don’t know if you would want to hit the tweels though), Jade Leech (II, he’ll laugh at you in a polite way, of course.)
He’s going to chase you around nonstop. Bro doesn’t even care about the fact you accidentally confessed to him, as soon as he hears that you like him he’s gonna try squeezing you so hard until your heart combusts from his love.
LMAO good luck LOSER
The one and only Floyd Leech (II)
( due to be edited at anytime )
#scrib.bles🫧#twisted wonderland#twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#ace trappola x reader#deuce spade x reader#trey clover x reader#ruggie bucchi x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech x reader#jamil viper x reader#kalim al asim x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#rook hunt x reader#epel felmier x reader#idia shroud x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#deuce spade#ruggie bucchi#azul ashengrotto#floyd leech#jade leech#riddle rosehearts#vil schoenheit#rook hunt#idia shroud
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
This is entirely and exclusively Hanamaki’s fault. If he hadn’t planted that ridiculous idea in his head—that you can tell how someone kisses just by the way they bite into an apple—Oikawa wouldn’t be staring so intently at Iwaizumi devouring a fucking apple.
He also wouldn’t be completely mesmerized by the way Iwaizumi’s teeth (and those sharp canines) sink into the fruit, by how his lips close around the piece, by how his strong jaw tightens with each bite, by how a bit of juice drips from the corner of his mouth as he chews, or by the way his thick Adam’s apple moves when he swallow
And, without a doubt, he wouldn’t be thinking over and over about how good Hajime must be at kissing, or how in the world he wishes he were that apple, and how—
"Ouch!" Tooru blinks as if waking from a dream, his train of thought abruptly cut off. He immediately brings his hand to his forehead where he felt the impact, narrowing his eyes at Iwaizumi, who meets his gaze with an expressionless look, his knuckles still raised. "What the fuck was that for, Iwa-chan?!"
"You were staring too much. Did you put something in the apple?" Iwaizumi asks suspiciously, gesturing to the half-eaten fruit in his other hand.
"How rude!" Oikawa pouts. "I would never do something like that, I’m a being of pure light!" But Iwaizumi keeps staring at him blankly.
Tooru tries to hold his gaze. He really does—he even furrows his brow and lifts his chin. But Iwaizumi is as unyielding as he is during arm wrestling, and it doesn’t take long before Oikawa feels the crushing intensity that forces him to look away first with an annoyed huff and flushed cheeks.
"So? What is it?" Iwaizumi insists, amused now that he’s won again.
"Nothing," Oikawa mutters.
"Oikawa."
He groans, rolling his eyes before scowling at Hajime. He’s embarrassed, but there’s no way he’s going to show it—his pride comes before anything.
"Makki told me you can tell how someone kisses by the way they bite into an apple."
Iwaizumi blinks, glancing from the apple to Oikawa and back to the apple again before raising an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued.
"Really?" Tooru nods, feeling like his cheeks are about to burst. "Then? Am I a good kisser?" He smiles again, genuinely flirty in a way Oikawa has only seen a handful of times, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to combust any second now.
"...You're a bad kisser," he mutters a bit too quietly, swallowing hard as his ridiculously stupid best friend leans in just a little closer.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Mmh." Iwaizumi hums, not breaking eye contact for even a second as he slowly takes another bite of the apple.
And fuck Makki, and fuck apples, and fuck the stupid kissing theory, and fuck apples again, and fuck his impulsiveness that makes him snatch the apple from Iwa-chan's hand before grabbing him by the collar to pull him in and kiss him right on the mouth.
...
now we're +200 followers thank u so so so much!! 🫂
and guess what i changed the layout pray that lasts long enough lol
u can find me on my ao3 🍉
#iwaoi#oikawa tooru#iwaizumi hajime#haikyuu!!#oikawa x iwaizumi#haikyuu#hajime iwaizumi#hq fluff#iwaoi drabble#soft and fluffy#iwaoi headcanon#haikyuu iwaoi#iwaoi fluff#hq oikawa#oikawa swears a lot#hq drabble#haikyuu drabble#they are so in love your honor#iwaoi kiss#first kiss#tooru oikawa#flirty iwaizumi#brat oikawa
63 notes
·
View notes
Note
HI I LOVE YOUR ART sorry if you've been asked this before BUT do you have a favorite transformer?? I would love to see art of them and I hope you live a long and prosperous life u draw awesome
OKAY THIS. Is my first ask!! And I heavily apologize for not doing this sooner and I’m ALSO apologizing for only giving you a sketch but that’s mainly because I genuinely couldn’t decide which character to do. I ended up going with the basic bitch option because I’m not invested enough in transmutate to say she’s my favorite (one episode alive and then spontaneous combustion) and I also can’t just say the entire beast wars cast so. I guess I go with this thin g
If I’m gonna be honest what mainly attracts me to him is his design. his cool autism is epic too I guess but I’m looking at his big breast most of all.
Since I only gave you a sketch I’ll drop some more shockwave adjacent unfinished artworks and a finished one for a discord server art challenge (I won………) I just didn’t like too much.
I hope tumblr doesn’t butcher the first Image cause I changed literally all the credits. please look at my minor details I changed empire to EMPURATA please
V unfinished + surrounding doodles
I am not an organized artist
#digital art#art#my art#maccadam#transformers#transformers shockwave#shockwave#reanimator#Tch. Get REANIMATORED.#my favorite horror film fun fact#I spent hours doing all that text and getting the original fonts. I won’t survive.#herbert west#he’s there I guess . Say hi#ratchet is mentioned in the credits as well but it would be so fucking funny if someone came to the ratchet tag only to see his name at mos#and a bunch of other characters. I’m not THAT evil#transformers art#tf art#tf#transformers g1#technically where the shockwave design is supposed to be from. the first one#TUMBLR STOP CUTTING OFF MY TAGS CHALLENGE!! GRRRR#ask#tf g1#I HATE OVERCOMPENSATING
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
BROZONES BACK- new positions
Okay so I’ve seen the movie 9 times in theaters(as of like 20 minutes ago lol) and since the band is back together I was thinking about what roles the boys would have now that they’ve grown up and are completely different from when they were kids!
(These are my opinions don’t be mean to me I’ve been thinking of this movie nonstop the past month and a half)
JOHN DORY - the fun boy(man)!
Hear me out! That man is goofy. From the ways he tried to break Floyd’s diamond prison to the way he runs up to branch during the wedding(seriously why did he hop towards him?). Even his expressions are silly! Plus being the old sibling IS really difficult. I think he deserves to shut his brain off and run around for a bit. As a treat!
BRUCE- the baby(daddy)!
LISTEN I KNOW THAT SOUNDS WEIRD. But like Bruce has so much responsibilities outside of the band, I think he’d love a position without any responsibilities or rules(i.e. heartthrob 💔)
CLAY- the sensitive/serious one!
This is not surprising at all, but Clay thrives when people respect him and he’s helping people. He literally was co-running an entire town of trolls. Also his sad book club where he cries and hugs the whole time!?!? If he was in a Kpop group, his fans would go WILD. (also he gives me Wonwoo vibes cuz he’s funny, but serious Yanno?)
FLOYD- the heartthrob!
I’m not gonna say it, but y’all get what I mean. Actually I will say it he’s literally emo with pink hair and leather shorts… if he were a person and I saw him irl I’d combust. Plus he’s genuinely such a sweetheart, he’d knock everyone off their feet!
BRANCH- the leader!
Also not surprising I think! Branch has already stepped up in leadership roles in the past movies(got poppy her colors back in first movie, standing up to the clown in tbt, standing up to poppy in twt to protect the pop trolls). Leaders have to be understanding and branch was the first one to start accepting the other trolls music and grooving with it in trolls world tour. He also recognizes that being different isn’t a bad thing and his talk was the reason him and his brothers were able to sing the perfect family harmony! He’s also basically the king of the pop trolls(just waiting on the wedding<3). Also ALSO he’s always in the middle. Like when they’re performing they give the others a spotlight for a second but the main choreo has branch front and center.
#I LOVE THE TROLLS!!!!!!#daisy talks#trolls#troll#trolls world tour#trolls 3#trolls band together#brozone
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
of our own making
(an X-Files fanfic)
Chapter 25/34 - rosebud lips
[Read on AO3]
Below them, the baby starts to fuss, her eyes shut tight against the bright lights as she squirms in Scully’s arms.
“Shh, it’s alright,” she hushes, rocking her back and forth. Mulder’s hand drops from Scully’s arm to cup the baby’s back, rubbing soft comforting circles there. She’s so soft and warm, it’s like touching a warm loaf of bread. Not that he’s about to compare their newborn baby to something as silly as a loaf of bread minutes after meeting her, but that’s where his head’s at.
The baby quiets, settling into the crook of Scully’s arm again. She’s a natural, just like he’d known she’d be.
“Oh, you’re gonna love your mommy, hon,” he coos, marveling at the way she’d instantly calmed her.
“Mulder, look at her!” Scully says in awe, tugging down at the blanket so her face is fully visible for the first time. “She’s so perfect!” The image of their daughter blurs through another bout of tears, and Scully clutches her close. The baby sleeps peacefully, her tiny pink tongue peeking out through her little rosebud lips every so often.
“She’s beautiful,” Mulder says, laughing a little at his own inability to hold it together.
Scully looks up at him again, finally beginning to compose herself.
“Do you want to hold her?” she asks.
There’s quite literally nothing in the entire world that he would like more, right now.
He reluctantly lets go of Scully, lifting his arms to accept the transfer of the baby. His hand cups the back of her downy-soft head and he pulls her oh so carefully into his chest, laying her in his arms. Something shifts inside him and falls into place.
It takes his breath away.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispers, dipping his head down to press a kiss to her tufts of wispy dark brown hair. “I’m gonna be your daddy.” Scully hangs on to him, her hands resting on his shoulder so she can keep staring at the precious little face now cradled in his arms. “She’s so small,” he chuckles, glancing at Scully for a second, then back to the baby as a few more tears escape. He’s blinking rapidly in an effort to be able to see her through the sheen of tears, but his efforts are proving fruitless. “I didn’t know anything could be so small.” Ten tiny little fingers. A button nose. Perfect fluttering eyelashes. Rosy red cheeks.
Scully leans her cheek against his bicep. “We have a daughter,” she says in awe, the full weight of those words hitting them for the first time. She rests her arm along Mulder’s, feeling the subtle rise and fall of the baby’s chest under her hand. “Oh, we love you so much already.”
It’s then that he turns to look down at her, and it hits him. He can’t hold back anymore. Not only does it not make sense, but he feels like he genuinely might spontaneously combust if he doesn’t do something.
And there’s only one thing to do, really.
He tilts his head down and pauses. She catches his movement out of the corner of her eye and shifts her gaze up to his, her eyes swimming with joy. He sees nothing to dissuade him.
Resolved, he adjusts his hold on the baby, then ducks his head and presses his lips gently to Scully’s for their second real kiss since their wedding. It’s different than the one they’d shared on New Year’s. Her lips are soft and salty with tears, but she kisses him back, eyes closed and relishing in the moment. When they break, he swallows thickly, feeling more fulfilled than he has in his entire life. He’s reluctant to open his eyes, wanting to live in that moment forever.
He loves her. He is absolutely, undeniably in love with Dana Scully, and by some miracle, she’s gone on this incredible journey with him. He still doesn’t know exactly where she stands. The plan never involved love of this kind. She didn’t sign up for this. But he hopes she might feel the same way—if not now, then someday. He wants to believe.
She’s smiling up at him when they part.
“Congratulations, Fox and Dana,” Brenda says, a beaming smile lighting up her face. “I’ll be back again before you're discharged to finalize some paperwork. Until then, you enjoy getting to know one another. I know you’ll do great.”
-.-.-
The silence in the wake of the ladies from the agency leaving is almost deafening. There’s still a ringing in his ears from when he’d kissed Scully, losing all sense of time in the few moments that their lips touched.
A tiny gurgle escapes the baby’s mouth, and it draws both of their attention back down to her. Mulder chuckles at the sight of her smacking her lips, rooting around for something to satisfy her most basic needs.
“She’s hungry,” he says, proud of himself for being able to recognize her signals already. He had worried that he wouldn’t know what he was doing, or how to take care of her, but it’s true what they say. Instincts kick in pretty quick, and your baby will tell you what they need if you know what to look for. “You want to feed her?” he asks Scully. He knows it would mean a lot to her, even if she can’t do it with milk from her own body.
She nods and gracefully takes the baby from him, settling into a rocking chair. He grabs a pillow from the bed and puts it under her arm for support, handing her a ready-made bottle of formula that one of the nurses had left for them. Then, he crouches down in front of her and just watches. The baby suckles greedily, pausing every so often like she’s falling asleep, before the motion picks back up.
“Mulder?” Scully says after a moment, her eyes not straying from the baby’s face.
“Yeah?”
“I think this is the best idea you’ve ever had.”
His lips curl upward in a smile, and he places a hand on her knee.
“I’ve had some pretty brilliant ideas over the years, but I think you might be right.”
She’s going to be the best mom, he thinks. It’s such a relief that they were able to make this happen. He doesn’t know what he’d have done if this, too, had failed. She’s had enough heartbreak because of this—her infertility, Emily, the IVF… Then at some point, he’d realized his fate was tied up with hers, and if she was never destined to be a mother, then—well—he’d never be a father either.
To that, he had said, “Never give up on a miracle,” and this might be it. Scully’s God works in mysterious ways, after all.
“We don’t have a name for her,” Scully says, her voice tinged with just the slightest edge of sadness.
He had tried to bring it up to her once before, but he could tell Scully hadn’t been ready for that conversation yet. She may not be a superstitious person, but when it came to their prospective parenthood, it was like she was afraid they’d jinx it if they got too excited too soon.
But they can’t put it off any longer. As much as he likes the sound of “Baby Girl Mulder,” that can’t stay her name forever.
“Well, are there any you want to rule out?” he asks. “What about your mom or your sister?”
Scully shakes her head, gazing contemplatively at the baby’s face. “I don’t think so,” she says. “Missy… well, she was one of a kind, I don’t think it fits anyone else.”
“Mmm,” Mulder hums in agreement.
“As for my mom,” Scully continues, “she means so much to me. But I want her to have her own name, not just a copy of someone else’s.”
“It could always be a middle name,” Mulder suggests, and Scully blushes, focusing intently on keeping the bottle upright.
“I’ve– um…” she starts. “I’ve actually got a middle name in mind already.”
Mulder’s eyebrows raise. “Oh, do you?”
“Yes, but she needs a first name first.”
He breathes out through his nose, pursing his lips and nodding in thought.
“I’m assuming small woodland creatures are out?” he says, waiting for the expected eye roll from her, and he’s not disappointed. “Well, how about this? Something that starts with an ‘M’, that way you can honor both your sister and your mom, while still giving her something new.”
He sees her mull over the idea in her head, testing it out probably a hundred different ways in the span of a few seconds.
“I’ve always liked Madeline,” she says thoughtfully. “Maddie.”
“Maddie,” Mulder says, trying it out on his tongue.
He looks down at the baby in her arms, and tries to imagine that name belonging to her. Her mouth loses suction on the bottle for a second and she coos adorably while flailing her tongue around in search for the nipple. He takes that as a sign.
“I like it. I think it suits her.”
“Maddie,” Scully repeats.
“And the middle name?” Mulder asks, looking curious. She’s got him in suspense now. He has no idea what name might be on her mind.
She bites down on her lip, cocking her head as she observes the tiny infant. “I was thinking… Samantha.”
He sucks in a breath, his eyes flashing up to hers in an instant. She’s serious, of course she is. This isn’t something she’d joke about, like he’d joked about the woodland creatures.
“Really?” he asks.
She nods. “It’s a beautiful name,” she says, forcing her eyes away from him shyly. “But—only if you like it. Only if you think your sister would approve.”
His sister… She’s been on his mind a lot lately, to no one’s surprise. A few months ago, he wouldn’t have known how to answer this question. What would his sister think of all this? He’d been in denial back then, unable to move on with his life and his search for the truth. They couldn’t have used her name, because it would mean admitting to himself what he’d denied all along. He hadn’t been ready to let her go.
But now, he does have an answer. He’s seen her. He thinks back to the way she’d smiled at him in the forest when he told her he was going to be a father—how thrilled she had been to know he's happy and in love.
He knows without a doubt that she’d be honored to have this child carry her name.
“I think she’d like that,” he says, his voice strained by a sudden influx of tears. “She’d like you, too.”
Scully gives a wobbly smile, then ducks her head to compose herself.
A minute passes before either of them is able to summon up the strength to form coherent language again. Mulder stands to his feet, settling his weight on the side table next to the rocking chair, not wanting to part from them even for the time it would take to pull up another chair.
“Madeline Samantha Scully,” he says aloud, looking down at the little girl who would carry that name.
“Not Scully,” his partner says quickly, glancing up at him seriously. “Mulder.”
For the second time in as many moments, he’s shell shocked by the words that she says.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. This was her dream originally, after all. He's just riding her coattails.
But she nods, her gaze unwavering. “There’s plenty of Scullys already,” she says. “The world needs more Mulders.”
Something blooms like a sunrise somewhere beneath his ribcage, and he suddenly wonders if it’s possible to die from the sheer force of the love you have stored up inside you.
“Scully… this is– this is your baby. You’re the one who’s wanted this for so long…”
“What I want is a Mulder,” she says, smiling sadly at his own self doubt. “I thought with the IVF, that was obvious.”
He doesn’t know what to make of that. She couldn’t possibly be saying what he thinks she’s saying. But then again, he recalls a time several years ago when she’d asked him about his genetic makeup.
Well, this child doesn’t share his DNA, nor Scully’s, but she’s theirs in all the ways that matter. Of course, he’ll be happy to give her his name.
“Madeline Samantha Mulder,” he amends, marveling at how it sounds spoken aloud. It’s perfect. And it means more to him than Scully will ever know.
“You know what else starts with ‘M?’” Scully asks, in a lighter tone than before.
He senses she’s about to tease him, so he beats her to the punch. “Mothman?” he guesses sarcastically.
She smiles in fond exasperation. “You, Mulder.”
“Hmm,” he hums happily, then pokes her in the shoulder with his elbow. “You know what else starts with ‘S?’”
“Please don’t say Skunk Ape,” she says, drawing a genuine laugh out of him. Her quickness of wit is one of the things he loves most about her. He doesn’t need to give her the correct answer to his question. They both know his favorite word of all time is ‘Scully.’
“A lovely name for a lovely little girl,” he says, reaching down to play with her tiny socked feet. “Welcome to the world, Maddie.”
~~~
Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]
@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear
#how are we feeling?#msr#txf#x files#xf fanfic#mulder and scully#my fanfiction#fox mulder#dana scully#of our own making#ooom#msr adoption fic#adoption
42 notes
·
View notes
Note
🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲 🌲
(Is this the max? I’m trying for max. I can’t remember how many to send. I just need this story so bad 😭🩵)
The limit is 1k so 1k for ya <3
Putting it under the cut for NSFW content:
---
He grabs Eddie’s waist, peppers kisses down his neck. Eddie shivers. He forgets his concerns. Following an instinct to just do whatever he wants, Eddie slips his hands under Buck’s shirt. He wants to feel all of him. As much as he can.
“Let me make you feel good,” Buck says, voice tickling Eddie’s throat. “Please.”
He already is. He already is making him feel so good. Any better, and Eddie might genuine combust.
“Yes,” he says anyway. “Yes, god. Please.”
Buck pulls his head back and grins a little wickedly. Like he knows exactly how good he’s making Eddie feel even before whatever he’s planning. Eddie is terrified and desperate to know, all the same.
Buck kisses him again. He touches his tongue to the sharp edges of Eddie’s teeth, completely unbothered by their inhuman points. All the while, he’s fiddling with the drawstring of his own sweatpants that Eddie is wearing. Eddie moans a little, into Buck’s mouth, practically squirming, desperate for more.
Before he knows it, the pants are around his ankles on the ground. He’s not wearing underwear, thanks to the damn tail. So he’s just kind of… All on display. Harder than he’s been in a long time, and jutting his hips out in a way that is just begging to be touched. Luckily, Buck doesn’t leave him hanging. Or, well… Not hanging. Buck doesn’t waste any time, is the point. He starts with his hand, gentle and a bit exploratory. But it’s enough to make Eddie’s thighs start to shake. He’s had a hand job before. Of course he has. But something about whatever his body is experiencing right now makes it feel like this is an entirely novel sensation.
When Buck switches from his hand to his mouth, kneeling on the floor in front of Eddie, Eddie thinks he just about blacks out. His brain turns off entirely. He exists entirely in this moment. Knees trembling, Buck’s fingers pressing into his thighs.
He doesn’t feel like a monster. He doesn’t feel like a failure. He just feels good.
iv.
Buck wakes up the next morning before sunrise. His hearing aids are out. He’s in Eddie’s bed, mostly naked. Eddie is sleeping pretty much on top of him, entirely naked. They didn’t go much further than the blowjob. Buck remembers that much. They’d stumbled into bed, kissed some more, fallen asleep holding each other. Then clearly passed out pretty heavily, because it was pretty early in the evening.
Unsure how to proceed, Buck just lays in bed for a few minutes. He just enjoys Eddie’s weight on top of him. Maybe Eddie will wake up, say he was just doing his Huldra thing, say that he’s still straight, and ask Buck never to touch him again. Maybe he’ll be off put by what happened and want Buck to leave. Maybe Buck will never get to kiss him again. Maybe they ruined their entire friendship.
Eventually, the panic rising in his chest over all the unknowns outweighs the comfort of Eddie’s skin against his. He can’t be patient or still any longer.
“Eddie,” he says, shaking Eddie slightly. “Hey, wake up.”
Eddie makes a muffled sound of frustration and only seems to tuck his head more tightly into Buck. Buck’s heart aches.
“Eddie? Come on,” Buck pleads.
“What?” Eddie mumbles.
“We uh… We should, uh…”
Suddenly, Eddie scrambles off of him. Buck mourns him immediately. Wants to grab onto him and keep him in place.
“Oh my god!” Eddie exclaims.
Yeah. Fuck. He’s repulsed.
“Eddie, I-”
“I’m so sorry, Buck!”
Wait. What?
“Why are you sorry?” Buck asks.
“Because I completely took advantage of you! I am literally a monster made to seduce and kill people, and I… I did half of that to you!”
“No,” Buck shakes his head. “Eddie, no. If anything, I took advantage. I-I know you’re straight, and-”
“Am I?” Eddie asks, loudly and deliriously.
“Uh…” Buck trails off, unsure what to say. “I mean, I thought so. But I guess I’ve been wrong about that in the past.”
Eddie sighs. “I don’t know, Buck. I really don’t. I just hate feeling like I magically compelled you or something. That’s… That’s wrong, even if I didn’t mean to.”
“You asked me,” Buck says. “You asked me. I said yes. I was in control of myself. It just felt… I mean, everything felt so much more intense than usual.”
“Than usual?” Eddie asks.
Buck’s cheeks heat. “Uh… Is that really surprising after what we did?”
“Yeah,” Eddie says. “It is.”
Oh.
“Sorry,” Buck mumbles. “Uh… Yeah, probably wrong of me… I’m sorry.”
“No, that’s not it,” Eddie says. “Not wrong of you. I just… I guess I’m surprised you would ever feel that way in the first place. Especially like this.”
“Like a Hulra?”
“Well, yeah. It’s fucked up, Buck.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t change… I mean I still just see you,” Buck explains. “And maybe… I mean, I don’t really know. I didn’t know myself… But I’ve probably… Uh, I’ve probably had these feelings for kind of a while.”
Eddie is silent for a moment.
Buck immediately regrets adding on that last part. Holy shit. What was he thinking?
“I guess I just assumed you wouldn’t,” Eddie says quietly. “That it wouldn’t be a thing that came up between us.”
“Well… Yeah, I mean. I thought you were straight. I had a boyfriend,” Buck says. “I wasn’t trying to think too hard about it. It just hurt.”
Eddie is quiet again.
“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” Buck sighs, scratching his head. He feels like a total idiot. “I’m not even compelled to tell the truth anymore.”
“What?” Eddie asks. “When did that happen?”
“When I had my hearing aids on. It was your voice… Anything you asked, I felt I had to answer honestly.”
“God, I’m sorry,” Eddie says.
“Not your fault,” Buck replies.
“But so… You meant everything?”
“Yes, Eddie. I meant everything. I wanted everything.”
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Still A Sunbeam
Summary: As a child, Elain Archeron is pushed into a pond by the heir to the Day Courts throne, Lucien Spell-Cleaver, and vows she'll never forgive him for it. But as an adult, Elain finds that if she wants out of an arranged marriage to a Spring Court prince, she will need Day Court's help. More is at stake than a decades-old rivalry, and when their home is threatened, Elain and Lucien will have to set aside old differences and work together
Previous Chapter | Read on AO3
Elain was brought to Nesta, standing in a little alcove that offered them the illusion of privacy. Nesta looked exhausted, eyes ringed with dark circles and her face paler than Elain remembered. She watched Elain approach, nostrils flaring and lips thinning.
“I don’t know which of you is worse,” Nesta hissed when Elain reached her. “Tell me the rumors aren’t true.”
Elain should have known Nesta hadn’t come to hug. “What rumors?”
There were so many possibilities, and Elain didn’t dare to admit to anything. Nesta narrowed her eyes, but said, “You killed a High Lord?”
“That was Eris Vanserra,” Elain said automatically, just like Cadmus had instructed. Nesta looked like living flame just then, like she might combust entirely. “I was only in the room.”
“That’s not what Killian has said. He’s frantic.”
“Why?” Elain genuinely could not fathom what would have Killian so worked up. If Eris wanted to hold Elain accountable, surely he would have called in the troops by now.
“Because you assisted in killing a High Lord,” Nesta hissed, speaking slow as though Elain were simple. “Why aren’t you more concerned?”
“Because Eris Vanserra isn’t going to share any of the credit,” Elain replied snappishly. “And this is just another attempt on Killian’s end to drag me home. I’m not going.”
Nesta stared at her for a moment, blue eyes unreadable. “Feyre said the same thing,” she mused, more to herself than to Elain. “No one wants to return.”
“Why are you here, Nesta?”
“Because the rumors circling you are concerning. Shacking up with a Day Court Prince—” Nesta’s nostrils flared again, lip curling in triumph when she realized that must be true.
“Assassinating High Lords. Three of them are dead in the span of a day, and our family is at the center of all three. Not to mention Hybern is in Spring—”
“What?” Elain breathed, trying to recall if Lucien had told her that.
Nesta’s amusement died again. “Tamlin is a fool. His father had some bargain with their king—one that was broken when he died, and should have remained broken. But Tamlin…Tamlin invited their general in anyway, and has been giving them tours of the wall.”
“Why would he do that?” Elain demanded, heart frantic in her chest. There were defenseless humans on the other side of that wall. Not to mention, her family was centralized in Spring, left to the whims of Hybern. Maybe her father would be fine, but would everyone else? Nesta waited for Elain to have the same realization she must have had.
“Because he truly believes Rhysand has kidnapped Feyre and is holding her mind, and nothing short of a thousand years married to her will convince him otherwise. Lucien Vanserra’s assertion that she was not spelled and quite herself didn’t matter. Tamlin is willing to sacrifice everything to get her back.”
“So what do we do?” Elain asked, stepping a little closer. “I could talk to the High Lord—”
“We need to go home,” Nesta said, reaching for Elain’s shoulders. “All three of us. We need to go back, and I can’t convince Feyre this is the right thing.”
Elain blinked. “You want me to…”
“To talk to her? Yes. I want you to tell her that Tamlin isn’t listening to reason. He needed to see her, hear it from her own lips.”
“And what then? What if he doesn’t?” Elain demanded, pulling from Nesta’s grip. “What if you’re right and he won’t believe her unless she marries him. Are you asking me to convince Feyre or that, too?”
“No. There will be no convincing her, not when—” Nesta pressed her lips together tightly, arms crossed over her chest. “If Tamlin can’t be convinced, there is still one brother who could rule. Killian has some sense, at least. He hates Amarantha.”
“You don’t need me for that,” Elain murmured.
“You’re the only one who has seen a High Lord die,” Nesta disagreed, eyes pleading. “And I can’t do this by myself. I don’t want to go back either, Elain. We have to. Spring has been our home and the thought of letting it fall…I…”
Elain knew if she told Lucien this plan, he’d intervene. He’d come up with a hundred reasons for her to wait, or for him to accompany her. She thought of her promise—she wanted to make things permanent between them.
“How much time do I have?”
“I’d like to leave right now,” Nesta said gently, as if she guessed Elain’s thoughts. “It’s not forever. That mate of yours will survive a week without you.”
Elain didn’t bother asking how Nesta knew. Of course she did. She must have scented it the moment Elain walked into the room.
“A week?” Elain questioned, sliding the ring on her finger in circles. Nesta nodded her head, though Elain thought it was smart not to make any promises. A week could become a month, or even a year if they weren’t careful.
“What happens if Feyre says no?”
“Then we go back and you can explain to me exactly how you ended up in a room with the High Lord as his son murdered him.”
Nesta’s eyes glittered with promise—she knew Elain was lying. Elain didn’t bother to correct her, even as she thought the plan was awful. Beron had been seduced by a younger, prettier female and put in a compromising position. Elain very much doubted she or Nesta could tempt Tamlin into the same.
He likely would have heard the details, besides. The only person who was going to ever get close enough to Tamlin was Feyre. And if Feyre was smart, she wouldn’t agree to go back. She’d say no and stay safe in Night with the new High Lord and whatever friends she’d made.
“Did mother write to you?” Elain asked, thinking of her things dumped wordlessly into Lucien’s bedroom. What kind of welcome was waiting for her at home?
“She did,” Nesta said, her voice laced with pity. “She is…unhappy, but not unswayable.”
“She’ll never approve of him,” Elain insisted, her voice thin and reedy.
“It’s not her life,” Nesta said fiercely. “She made her choices with father, and you get to make yours, too. What male wants another male’s mate, besides? Killian thinks he will but the scent coming off you makes my hair stand on edge. Mother had a life planned for us all, and we’ve wrecked it.”
“Sorry about Atticus,” Elain murmured. Nesta had always been slated to marry him just as soon as she finished her studies.
Nesta smiled—a genuine thing that made her far more beautiful than she already was. “Why? The High Lord of Night did me a favor. Atticus, too, if we’re honest. I don’t think he ever wanted me as a wife, either.”
“If we’re going to leave, we should go now,” Elain murmured, looking behind her sister toward the window and the rising sun. Lucien would eat breakfast and meet with his father before coming to look for her again.
He’d understand, she reasoned. Lucien wouldn’t like the deception, but he’d understand. And he’d be careful, too. Rationalizing that if things went so wrong, Elain could take refuge in nearby Autumn, she reached for Nesta’s hand and began leading her through the palace. Her home.
I’ll be back, I’ll be back, she chanted in her head. Careful to keep her heart rate steady so she wouldn’t alert Lucien that anything was amiss, Elain managed to get Nesta through the palace without much notice. Courtiers and scholars still fluttered through the halls, glancing her way before returning to their conversations. She was nothing interesting anymore—a princess, so commonplace most of them just barely inclined their heads.
Later, when Lucien was looking for her, this moment would be cited. He’d know she left intentionally, that she avoided him to keep him from convincing her to stay. It would take no effort on his part—Elain didn’t want to be parted from him. Not today, not ever. Her vision still loomed heavy in her mind. Was she walking straight into it? Or had she derailed just enough that Lucien would honor their marriage vows, deception or not?
Elain simply had to trust that whatever Lucien swore he felt, he meant. That it would take more than one small act of defiance—one made to try and save her home from utter ruination—to sour his feelings for her. Lucien had said he would want her, bond or not.
And though it was so deeply unfair to make him prove it, there was no other choice. Elain stepped into the humidity and the bright light, tilting her head against the warmth while Nesta hissed in disgust. Elain closed her eyes against the cold wind of Nesta’s winnow, wishing that when she opened her eyes, she’d be back in bed with Lucien.
That she’d find this had all been a dream.
Elain opened her eyes to a city made of moonstone and marble. If Day was burning sunlight, this place was glittering starlight. Elain had never given much thought to the Night Court, and never truly considered what it might look like. This, though, with its shining, clean streets and neat buildings lined up in elegant rows, was beautiful.
There was no screaming, no pleading or rivers of blood. There was even sunlight, hazy up above and far colder than Elain was used to. She wished she’d grabbed a cloak on her way out. Nesta smiled for a moment, unbidden and bright before she caught herself and replaced that smile with a scowl. A male was striding toward them. He was handsome with his thick, dark hair that fell in waves around truly massive shoulders. Elain didn’t think she’d ever seen someone as broad and muscular as this person. Tattoos crawled up his neck, vanishing dark leathers conforming to his powerful body. Red gems glinted in the light, flaring with what Elain suspected to be excitement when he saw her sister.
His massive wings, once tucked tightly against his back, flared out for a moment. “Hey, Nes. She came.”
“Don’t call me that,” Nesta snapped as Elain turned to look at her elder sister. Nes?
“I’m Cassian,” the large, impossibly tall male told her as he extended a hand. “Elain?”
“Elain,” she agreed with a broad smile. “How do you two know each other?”
“We don’t,” Nesta insisted as Cassian, still holding her hand, replied, “I’ve been training her.”
Training her in what? Judging from the flush staining Nesta’s cheeks, it wasn’t just a sword. There would be time to untease all that later—maybe when Elain had Feyre to herself and they could giggle like they were children again, far out of Nesta’s earshot.
“We’re here to see Feyre,” Nesta interrupted, spine impossibly straight. Cassian’s grin merely widened, as though he were used to these sort of displays and enjoyed them immensely.
“Lucky for you, she’s at the town house with Rhys. I’ll walk you to her.”
“There’s no need—”
“Oh, I insist,” Cassian interrupted smoothly. “It’s my job to welcome your sister into our court.”
“Well. Welcome her, then,” Nesta snapped. Cassian’s grin was just as sharp, just as lethal as Elain’s eldest sister. Had Nesta met her match here?
Cassian turned to Elain, sweeping into a half bow. “Welcome to the Night Court, Elain Archeron.”
LUCIEN:
“You wanted to see me?”
Lucien’s father turned from his place in front of the window, his study in disarray. “I did. Elain is with her sister for the day, and I was hoping you could do me a favor.”
Anything to pass the time, he thought to himself. Lucien was unreasonably excited that when he returned to his bedchamber later, Elain would be waiting with food. She was going to accept the bond and they’d have a private celebration. No one could take her from him, then. No matter where they went, no matter how they were separated, she would always belong wholly to him.
Lucien needed something else to think about while he waited or he’d be too tempted to track her down.
“Of course.”
“I need you to meet with your brother.”
Lucien looked up at the ceiling, sighing heavily. “What has Eris done this time?”
“Nothing,” said Helion, turning to face his son. “That’s the problem. War is on the horizon and Eris has all but closed his borders. I thought we could count on him…but…”
But Eris was self-serving above all else. And if he felt the risk was too great to himself personally, he’d stay out. Just like his cowardly father. Lucien was trying so hard not to hate his half brothers, especially after what they’d done for Elain. He owed them for that—Eris and Cadmus could have locked Elain up and held a trial, could have used what she’d done as an excuse to march into Spring or Day, depending on their mood.
And instead Cadmus had brought her home while Eris gleefully announced to the world that he’d killed his father and then pardoned himself for crimes of treason, all while sitting with a Day Court courtier on his lap. Presumably. Lucien couldn’t picture Eris putting Arina on his lap—that’s just what he would have done if he’d killed Beron and had his mate with him.
Eris probably had Arina stand at the foot of his throne in one of those dresses that buttoned to her neck, penciling in when they ought to have sex based on some ridiculous calendar of her courses so he was certain to get his precious heir.
“I’ll go. I want to see Arina, anyway.” That was true. Lucien wanted to offer her an out if she’d changed her mind. He knew how overwhelming the mating bond could be and how heady an experience it was. Surely the fog would be clearing, her senses returning. Assuming she hadn’t done anything stupid—like accept the bond and married his brother—Arina could still come home.
Even if she hadn’t, Lucien might try and smuggle her out anyway. He could always lie and say she’d run away. His parents would kill him for it, but Lucien thought it would be quite fun to steal Eris’s wife right from under his nose just as his father had done to Eris’s father.
“Take your time,” Helion instructed, unaware that Lucien was itching to get back to Elain. Or maybe he did, given his eyes slid to the mating band on Lucien’s hand. “Keep that from your mother. You’ll break her heart.”
“She’ll get her big celebration,” Lucien promised, though he ducked his hand behind his back all the same. Disappointing his mother was one of the worst things he could imagine. “This was just for us.”
A soft smile slid across his father’s face. “I know the feeling well. Keep it to yourself.”
Lucien nodded, making his way back into the palace. He did go checking after Elain, unable to help himself. He wanted to tell her he was leaving without her, and that it had nothing to do with her abilities or skills. A servant informed him she��d taken her sister into the city and Lucien thought it was best not to bother them given how sad she’d been about her mother and father’s rejection. Maybe Nesta Archeron could smooth things over for Elain’s family so by the time he visited, everyone was on better terms.
Lucien dressed himself, unable to take his eyes off the still rumpled bed in the center of the room. Elain’s trunks were still scattered about, half opened with clothes spilling out. He knew when he arrived, all her things would be neatly stored, the trunks put away. Maybe, having spoken to Nesta, Elain would feel better about where she’d left things with her parents, too.
Assuming, of course, Nesta hadn’t come to drag Elain back home. Lucien wasn’t willing to entertain that possibility, twisting the mating band around his hand nervously. She was his wife—he could go into Spring and bring her back, kicking and screaming if he had to.
And Lucien suspected he would. If Elain went home under some misguided belief she needed to do right by her family, Lucien would flex his muscles as heir of the Day Court, bring that signed scroll with Elain’s uncoerced signature on it, and put her right back in his bed.
Shaking his head, Lucien shoved the thought out of his mind. Elain wouldn’t—she’d wanted to get married, and she wanted to accept the bond. She wasn’t going home, barring some unforeseen disaster. She was safe in the city, likely showing her sister all the best parts of Rhodes. He’d meet them for dinner if he was home in time and hopefully charm the eldest Archeron into loving both his home and himself, and then have Elain moaning beneath him before the night was through.
It was too hot to have a jacket buttoned to his neck. Lucien opted for a hunter green tunic with a white shirt beneath. Lucien used gold sleeve garters right above his elbows in lieu of his usual armband, and picked out his nicest pair of trousers and a gleaming pair of boots. That ought to satisfy Eris and his ridiculous court would be looking for anything to pick apart—Lucien didn’t intend to let them find it in his appearance.
Still, for the moment he stood outside, the outfit was unbearably hot. Itchy, too. Lucien winnowed quickly before sweat could cling to his skin and make a mockery of him, landing on crunchy leaves just outside the Forest House.
Beron is dead, he reminded himself. It did little for his crawling anxiety, especially when the guards surrounding the palace watched him, arrows pointed straight at him as he walked to the entrance.
The smell of cinnamon and wet soil slammed into his senses, far stronger than it had ever been outdoors. Lucien frowned, already missing home. A guard was waiting in a crisp red and white uniform, beckoning for Lucien to follow after him. The palace seemed thinner than Lucien remembered—fewer courtiers meandering the winding halls, watching for something to gossip about later.
Absently, Lucien wondered if Eris hadn’t culled them. It was possible they’d also fled for another court, though Lucien wouldn’t fathom who would want Autumn’s set living within their walls.
Familiar golden doors were thrust open when Lucien approached, though there was no Beron Vanserra sneering at him as he entered. No open insults, no hateful eyes. Only Eris, casually positioned in that wooden chair made of twisting branches. Arina was propped on his knee, crowned in a burnished laurel leaves and draped in a pretty, burgundy dress that cut far lower than anything Lucien had ever seen on an Autumn Court female. Rubies adorned her throat, a match for the pretty ring on her finger.
She shot upward the moment she saw him, gathering her skirts as she jogged the four steps to the wood floors. Lucien kept his eyes on his brother, waiting for that flash of anger his father would have given.
Eris merely seemed amused. Indulgent, even. Lucien didn’t know what to make of that.
Arina flung her arms around his neck, and Lucien, still testing her brother, hugged her back with a little too much intimacy. He caught Eris’s expression shift to irritation, lip curling over his teeth before he smothered it.
“Where is Elain?” Arina demanded, pushing back just enough to peer around him.
“Busy, unfortunately,” Lucien replied, scanning his friend for any tell-tale signs of bruises or other harm. “How are you?”
He expected Eris to jump in, furious at the insinuation. True, his brother stiffened on the throne, gripping the arms so tightly Lucien heard the wood creak beneath his grip. But he kept silent so Arina, bubbly and vivacious as ever, could say, “I’m fine. Don’t look at me like that—Eris could only dream of getting one good hit in.”
“I don’t dream of that,” Eris said, his first words since Lucien had arrived. “I am content to let my wife speak for me.”
Arina rolled her eyes with affection, looking over her shoulder as Eris stood.
“He had to make such a show of it. Did you know he’s High Lord?” she teased as Eris rolled his neck before slowly making his way toward them. “He reminds us all no less than ten times a day.”
An affectionate smile spread across his brother's face, so at odds with the male Lucien was accustomed to seeing. What had Arina done to him? It was impossible to consider that Eris may have always been this way.
“Brother,” Eris said by way of greeting, sliding one arm possessively around Arina’s waist. Was Lucien also that obnoxious? Arina reeked of Eris’s scent, the bond between them nearly overpowering. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, a warning not to get too close unless he wanted his throat ripped out.
But Eris was keeping it together, given Lucien had just been rubbing his hand up and down Arina’s spine.
“Have you come to ensure I’m not mistreating my mate?”
“Among other things,” Lucien replied, not bothering to deny it.
Eris exhaled. “Spend as much time with her as you like.”
Lucien didn’t think he could stand to, though it certainly put some of his fears to rest. If Eris had things to hide, he surely wouldn’t hand her up on a silver platter. Not when the mating bond was still riding him so hard, at any rate. “It’s tempting. A sleepover, like old times?”
Lucien relished the growl that slipped past Eris’s throat. It was too easy to rile him up now. Arina poked Eris in the ribs, leashing Eris before he could do or say something that might start an incident between Autumn and Day.
“Why are you really here, brother?’
“You know why,” Lucien retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “This potential war. Father wants to know where you stand.”
Arina looked up at Eris, eyes wide. “War?” she asked.
“How poorly you inform her,” Lucien sneered, earning a smack in the chest from Arina.
“Knock it off,” she warned, looking between the pair of them. “What war?”
“Maybe war,” Eris interrupted, pushing the words through his teeth. “As far as I can tell, Tamlin is merely giving Amarantha a tour of his home.”
“Of his borders,” Lucien clarified. “Why would she possibly need to know that? And ships are pouring in from Hybern in the dozens. I doubt it’s all goods for trade.”
“What do you want, then? A promise I’ll march with Helion if Amarantha decides to invade?”
“Yes,” Lucien replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s exactly what I want.”
Eris held Lucien’s gaze. “Fine. I’ll agree—on one condition.”
Gritting his teeth, Lucien replied, “What is it that you want?”
“For you to stay two nights. Here. With your brothers,” Eris clarified, perhaps guessing Lucien would merely waste his time hanging out with Arina. “Otherwise tell Helion he can get fucked.”
“Are you serious?” Lucien seethed, well aware his father would not be so forgiving if he returned home without securing this alliance all because he wanted to sleep beside his wife. Eris must have guessed, eyes sliding to the band on Lucien’s hand.
“It’s time to put the past behind us,” Eris said, slinging his arm around Arina’s neck. She beamed, clearly loving this plan and wholly unaware of what a bastard her mate was.
“Oh, Lucien, you should. Things are so different—you’d love it. Invite Elain to spend some time here, too.”
“I’m sure Cadmus would love to see her,” Eris added. Lucien swallowed the urge to beat Eris to death with his fists.
“Fine,” he gritted out. He’d write Elain and explain himself. “Two days, and you agree to support Day if Spring lets Amarantha use their territory as a base.”
Something dark flickered over Eris’s face. “And Day will agree to house any refugees from my court should she come over our borders.”
Lucien would need to talk to Winter, too, but it was reasonable enough. Extending his hand, he nodded.
“Deal.”
#elucien#chapter 27 if you can believe#seems like only yesterday and now we're getting close to the end
80 notes
·
View notes
Text
“The Look of Love” 2/2
Summary: After Steve got back from D.C., he made a decision he would soon regret. Now he wants to try and out the pieces back together.
Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, sexual themes (lots of oral, fingering), story is set in Avengers: Age of Ultron, MINORS DNI
**
Steve watches you attentively as your face mellowed with sleep. He rested his head on his inner forearm, his gaze falling to the singular twist that’s peeking out of your bonnet. He was half tempted to take one into his hand and rub his thumb over it but he didn’t want to wake you. He replays the last few hours with you.
He took your back to your place and you invited him inside to have a talk. You poured the two of you a coffee and Steve first started talking about what happened in D.C. and his best friend, Bucky. He told you everything he could without giving away Fury’s cover. Then things progressed from Bucky to you and how he wanted to try again. He regretted ever ending things in the first place.
By the time he was finished, you had drank the entire cup and it was three in the morning.
Not liking the idea of him going back home so late, you insisted he stay with you until sunrise. The two of you had changed into something comfortable and you refused to let him sleep on the couch. You trusted him. The two of you didn’t have sex until the sixth date.
It was a long waiting game between the two of you. He wanted to wait as long as possible for you to be comfortable around him. And you waited for him to make the first move. He respected you so much. He didn’t want to taint any of that.
You stirred a little in his arms, turning so you were laying on your back. A yawn left your lips and you stretched your arms out, freezing when you collide with a warm chest. “Oh! Sorry,” you brought your arms back but he caught your hand. You watched as he pressed a soft kiss to the palm of your hand. “Good morning,” he greets. You lifted your hand to hold the side of his face.
He sighs at your touch and turns his face into it.“Morning,” his eyes flickered to your lips and your mirrored his movements. He slowly leans in and ghosts his lips over yours. “No,” he says, pulling away. “No?” “I have to earn it. Earn you back.” He cups the back of your head and presses a series of kisses to your forehead before standing from the bed.
“I’ll get started on breakfast,” he offers. You found yourself reaching for him to pull him back. But he was adamant about earning you back. In your eyes, he already did that when you watched him walk away. Your gaze fell from his muscled back in his white tank top to his thick legs in those grey sweatpants you kept of his. You’re really glad you kept those
Maybe you needed a cold shower.
**
Steve has been pursuing you like when the first time you two started talking. He would send flowers and swing by your job with your favorite sandwich every week. The dates were genuine and thoughtful and never the same date twice.
This time you two had just come back from a botanical garden in New Jersey. He was walking you to the front door of your apartment. You had a gorgeous bouquet of tulips in your hands and Steve’s jacket draped over your shoulders. “I can’t believe a butterfly landed on your nose. You must have felt like a princess,” you said with a chuckle. “Do you feel like a princess?” He intercepted.
“No,” you stood in front of him so he would stop walking, “I feel like a queen,” you could visibly see the worry melt from his features and you smiled. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.” Here you were once again, faces inches apart right in front of your door and not one kiss. You felt like you were going to combust so you decided to bring out the big guns.
“Oh! I just remembered that I have something for you,” “Oh really?” You hummed in response, brushing your nose against his before turning to open your door. You had bought tickets for the Yankees game for him to take whoever he wanted. You weren’t particularly into sports but you knew him and Sam have been meaning to go to see a Yankees game for a while.
You unlocked the door and went into your bedroom to get them. Steve waited by the door like the gentleman he was. “Y/N, no, you didn’t have to do that.” Once he noticed the blue and white colored tickets. “You deserve to be spoiled too, Steve. You should definitely take Sam. He would love it.” You handed him the tickets and he looked at you with longing.
“Y/N, I..” he trails off when he notices you reach under your dress and pull down on the straps on your navy blue thong, Steve’s favorite color. The thong dropped to your ankles and you maintained eye contact. His eyes darkened and he licked his lips when he sees the thong on the floor. His breathing picked up when you reached to take off your bra.
He snaps out of whatever spell you put him under when he heard the door from down the hall opened. Steve immediately walked through the door and closed it. You took a few steps back, a smile tugged on your lips when he swiftly locked the door. You resumed taking off your bra when his back was facing you and tossed it on his shoulder.
He slowly turned to face you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, noticing you moving away from him. Taking your bra into his hands, he sets it on the counter along with his keys and the tickets before making his way towards you. You kicked off your flats in anticipation the closer he came to you. Lifting you into his arms, you pressed a long kiss to his lips. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, your hands pulled at his hair.
He groans against your lips as he pulled away. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” He says, slapping your ass before setting you on the counter. “Exposing yourself with the door wide open? Tsk tsk. Not very queen like is it?” “I just missed you. Please just touch me, Steve.” You plead, grinding yourself against the bulge forming in his slacks.
His hands slide down to your hips so you couldn’t move. “Take off your dress,” he says to you, his lips sucking on your neck. You lift the dress over your head and dropped it to the floor. Pressing another kiss on his lips to which he deepens, you gasp when he nipped at your bottom lip.
Reaching for his belt, he caught your hands and pinned your hands above your head. Inhaling sharply when you burning skin pressed against the cool tile of the counter. “Steve,” you said in surprise. He made eye contact with you as he kisses from your neck to your chest.
He takes one of your nipples into his mouth while one of his fingers gathered your slick curling a finger inside of you. You shudder when he presses into a g spot. He moved to your other breast, curling his fingers harder until your body twitched from the stimulation. “Steve, please,” you whimpered, squirming away from him but he held you down.
Rubbing his palm against your clit, your body seized with an orgasm. You finally felt like you could breathe when you came down from your peak. He lets go of your wrist and pries your legs open, spreading your folds and licking up your stripe. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucked harshly.
Your fingers raked through his hair as he bobbed his head to kitten lick you and draw figure eights with his tongue. Rolling your hips against his face, your mouth fell open when he punctured your pussy with his tongue. Your legs closed around his head the closer you got to the edge. He nipped at the skin on your thigh before spreading your legs and holding them open.
A final lick sent you through another earth shattering orgasm. Your hand shot up to push him away, tears building in your eyes. He smooths a hand over your stomach, occasionally pressing kisses to your pelvic bone. He waited for your twitching to subside before sending another broad lick to your throbbing pussy. Your legs were starting to go numb from the constant pressure of Steve holding you down.
“Break- please, I need a break!” You croak, sighing when he kisses up your stomach and until he reached your lips. “I thought you wanted me to touch you.” He teased. “I didn’t mean suck the soul out of me,” you giggled, sliding off the counter and landed on your feet. Your knees gave out but Steve caught you and held you close.
He kisses you warmly, smiling into the kiss when he feels your legs shake involuntarily. Lifting you in his arms, he carries you bridal style into the bedroom. Gently setting you down, you sat up to unbutton his shirt and drag it down his arms. You tossed it somewhere in the room and he kicked off his shoes before you pulled him down to the bed by his belt loops.
He landed in between your legs, catching himself so he wouldn’t crush you. “Looks like someone missed me,” he said, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I did miss you. Now take off your boxers,” you commanded. “Yes ma’am,”
BONUS 🫡 (you’re welcome)
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sam asks Steve, who was one of the last to join the group. Once Tony heard Sam and Steve got tickets to the Yankees, he figured why not get tickets for him and Rhodey. The more the merrier.
Steve wears the Yankee’s hat you got him and a white button up with black slacks. And more noticeably, a grin stretched from ear to ear. “Just woke up on the right side of the bed this morning,” Steve says, causing Sam and Rhodey to give each other a look. Yeah, right.
You had spent the night over his place and you tried to get up to make him breakfast in bed. Steve had other plans as he pulled you back to the bed and sat you on his face, licking you until you came. Getting his rocks off was the last thing on his mind. He just loved watching you try to squirm away. It look little effort to hold you in place, but it was cute to see you try.
However this time it resulted in a competition of who will come first. Steve was more than happy to compete and you didn’t realize how much of a natural he was at it. The game was over before you even started. He looked proudly over at your sleeping form. One of your legs propped up, making his shirt rise up over your ass.
He covered your lower half with his blanket and kissed your forehead before getting ready for the Yankees game.
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just a lil tidbit
I know I already have something in progress, but in classic ADHD fashion, I couldn't help but start writing a wicked long one-two shot with lil snippets of their more canon romance.
And not for nothing but y'all keep posting the most wonderful oneshots with your Tavs and Gale (specifically Keldae, I cannot stop thinking about Devi what a fucking queen, and janemeteoric, whose fic Incandescence I literally cannot get out of my brain, on AO3).
At the far end of camp, Shadowheart and Halsin had their hands full with healing a horrifically battered Astarion and a relatively worse for wear Karlach. This left him at the cliffside Orla had set her tent up at, his injured hand in hers. “Te curo,” she mumbled, holding her palm over his. He could feel the tickle of the healing magic taking effect, though not enough to close the wound. “Hells.” She frowned but didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m going to have to stitch you up.”
The air between them had been light, perhaps even a little giddy, since the night of the celebration. She had made her interest clear with the image of their embrace. Of their kiss. He had thought of that very image every night since, wanting nothing more than to fall into her arms and let her have her way with him before quelling the orb in whatever way he could manage. There had been jokes and laughter shared as well as real genuine conversation. Back and forth that gave him more to chew on than any singular person had in many years. He pressed forward every now and again. A hand lightly touching her back as he followed through a doorway. Brushing dirt off her face after a hard fought battle. Moving her hair out of her eyes as she assisted Astarion in another lockpicking fiasco. It all felt so startlingly right that he couldn’t help himself.
But she had barely even looked at him since Elminster had stabilized the orb. Now that he didn’t feel as though his entire being would spontaneously combust when she came near, she wouldn’t even meet his eyes. “This is going to pinch,” she informed him as she readied a needle at the top of his still open wound. It pierced his skin, and perhaps it was because it was his palm or perhaps she had really pressed that hard with the needle but he sucked in a breath, wincing in pain. “I’m sorry.”
When their eyes finally met, the cold in hers still glittered in the light of the full moon, but there was something more in them than usual. A certain longing and dread he wasn't accustomed to. “Think nothing of it,” he hissed as she once again went in and out of his skin with the needle. “My pain tolerance, or lack thereof, is no fault of yours. If anything, I’m grateful for your willingness to help mend my recklessly acquired wound.”
It was silly when all was said and done. Maybe she would have turned around in time to grasp the Githyanki guard’s wrist and stop the blade from entering her back. Perhaps she had a spell of shield ready to go at a moment’s notice. When he saw the glint of the blade in the light from the brazier, he moved before he could think. He muttered something quick and mindless under his breath. An incantation that would send the guard repelling backwards, which did end up working. However, not before the blade slashed across the palm of the hand that he had thrust between them, leaving blood gushing onto the stone floor of the creche. Orla would not only end up leaving the finishing blow on the guard, but she also wrapped up his hand on the cleanest piece of cloth she could find to manage the flow of blood.
The stitching she did on his hand was delicate and skillful. The work of someone who was already very adept at sewing. He watched in awe in spite of the pain, watching fingers tenderly handle his skin. Taking the very best care of him that she could. “My mother was a cleric,” she divulged to him quietly. It wasn’t often that much of anyone was privy to her sharing any information that wasn’t imperative to give. “But she died when I was very young.” He felt himself leaning towards her warmth despite himself. This was no way to do things. There was limited time left for him, and though he had learned she was just a few years older than he was, she deserved better than regret with the time she had left. “My father was a tailor, and he passed only but a few years ago. I suppose I’m better with a needle than I am with a healing spell due to the amount of time I spent learning alone.”
She released his hand, which had a roughly closed wound now. Within a day or so, the magic would catch up, the stitches would be removed, and they would move on like they always did. He stared down at her careful work with awe. She handled him as carefully as she could. There was no vengeance in her movements with the needle, only sadness, which was also present in the gaze she was still holding to his. “You aren’t really going to go through with it, are you?” she whispered. They were impossibly close. Closer than the orb would have allowed.
There was just a breath between them now as her eyes scanned over his face, desperately seeking out the answer she wanted from him. “I don’t see what other option I have, Orla,” he responded just above the whisper she had addressed him with. Mystra’s charge was clear: he was to sacrifice himself by way of the orb to destroy the Absolute. There was no fine print. There was no alternate ending. There was no third door. This was it. “Her will is–”
“There is always an option, Gale,” Orla urged, leaning forward on the ball of her hand. “There is always a choice. What do you want?” What a strange question to be asked on the precipice of such a monumental point of his life. “Not what your goddess wants. I frankly could not possibly give less of a damn what she wants. You, what do you want?”
Of course, given the option, he wanted to live. He wanted to be rid of the orb and take this beautiful strong half-elf in front of him into his arms and hold her all day and all night for as long as she would let him. He wanted to kiss her senseless and learn her entire history. He wanted to see what would happen to their merry band of misfits. What would come of Shadowheart’s longing to become a dark justiciar. How the reunion with Astarion’s vampire master would go. If Dammon would be able to fix Karlach’s engine and give her freedom over the land. What the rescue mission to save Wyll’s father would entail. How Lae’zel’s revenge mission would play out. If Orla would truly drag them through the shadow cursed lands and bring them to Baldur’s Gate. But it all seemed unlikely for him to see. The fact that he had made it this far was a miracle in and of itself.
“Because, if it has any weight at all, I would rather you didn’t blow yourself to smithereens,” she told him. “I would–not that my wants matter even a fraction in this situation–would be thrilled to hear about the misadventures of the notorious Gale of Waterdeep without the looming threat of the end of the world.” Trying to picture the two of them chatting over a relaxed dinner with mostly consumed bottles of wine was far easier than he had anticipated. Easy smiles and genuine laughter. Full bellies and fuller hearts. He imagined kissing her ring clad knuckles, smiling at the sight of her bejeweled fingers. “You deserve more than to be a tool to destroy an enemy we could all overpower together.”
He couldn’t recall the last time his thoughts had been taken into account the way she wanted them to be. The best he could think of was with Tara, but even so, there was so much suggestion of what he needed to do, leading to the everpresent implication of what he was doing wrong. “I…” words began to spill out of her mouth, but she clamped her plush lips shut. “I adore your company, and think the world could use a bit more Gale in it.”
With those words, he couldn’t restrain himself any longer. The relative calm in his chest was enough to push him forward. The knowledge that Mystra had sent someone as trusted as Elminster to stabilize the orb was enough to propel him to Orla. Their lips met in a whisper. A prayer. A plea. Soft and barely there at first. He couldn’t even be entirely certain if she still had any interest in such an act after all that she had learned. All she had seen. All he had said.
Even with all that had happened, she stayed. She pressed closer to him. His uninjured hand lifted to rest against her cheek. It was a bliss unknown to him, kissing her in the privacy her cliffside provided. Her needle and thread had been discarded as she pushed herself into him. Both hands landed on either side of his face. The move was clinging to something he couldn’t name. Her moves were eager and quick and filled with angst. Every inch in his direction was desperate as she scrambled into his lap.
#bg3 oc#bg3 fic#tav x gale#gale x tav#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#bg3#baldur's gate 3#snippet saturday#??? is that a thing#I'm old and not with it#also
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
omg best writers on stayblr and why?
Oh boy, this is a hard question! There are just so many talented writers on here that I don’t want to say which ones are the “best”
However, I will share some of the ones I read/enjoy the most as my personal preference (my favorite fics can also be found in the fic rec list if you’d also like to check that out)
@astraystayyh - my god sahar is such an amazing writer and she’s proved time and time again that she’s also an amazing person
@withleeknow - made me want to start writing, which I think I’ve said before. Idk how much that’s says about her writing because its outstanding but yeah I think you should know I’m here mostly because of her influence
@linospuddin - pudding is someone I admire so much like omg check her out if you haven’t already. Some of best pieces of writing I’ve ever read
@hanibalistic - “there was this boy” might be one of my favorites skz fics of all time. Ever. Same with “who you are, who I am.” Their writing just sucks you in and you can’t stop reading. I also cried to “there was this boy,” so do with that what you will
@feelbokkie - made me want to give smaus a chance again, and that’s saying something (for me). Bokkie is such an amazing writer and I can’t recommend her enough
@forlix - makes me want to combust with emotion. She’s writes so beautifully and I can feel the characters’ emotions
@tasteleeknow - my god. omg cant recommend enough. Their entire masterlist is just so good (though, my favorites are “hello stranger,” “living in the ruins,” and “bunny”). “Hello stranger” is one of the best skz series I’ve read.
@hwangism143 - via, my pookie. I love her writing because I can feel the passion she puts into each word. My favorites are “Empty,” “battleground,” and “dim lights, work nights”
@godslino - what can I even say. I think ina’s writing speaks for itself tbh. I am genuinely amazed by her skill at immersing you into a scene yet making you want to bang your head in the table because you can’t believe you get to read something so beautiful
There are others, but I think I’m going to leave it here since I don’t want to make it too long 😅. I’m updating my fic rec list pretty soon (hopefully within the next week or two) so if you want to check out other amazing authors, they’re tagged there too.
But yeah, if you want me to go into further detail I will, just let me know! Hopefully it wasn’t too much 🫶🏻
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
IT'S ME ANON HI AGAIN!! ugh ur actually going to make me physically combust. jana you are incredibly kind and sweet and deserving of every good thing that has happened to you and will happen to you!! everything i said i meant it with my whole heart and all kindness you feel is just kindness that is echoed!! your beautiful soul will travel for miles and miles touching so many others like you've touched mine!! i love you so much never stop smiling my love :)) <33 have an amazing day i love u jana!! we ride at dawn for u <33
i feel like i know who this is AJAJSHSHD I LOVE YOU TOO you genuinely made my entire week at this point, but i’m so flustered too 😭😭, you’re an angel and i wish you allll those things back lovely <3333
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
actually do you think yosuke and yu would be able to hook up again after that disastrous first relationship experience. or would yosuke just combust from all the cringe the memories bring with them
LOLLL. ultimately when they reconnect i think they’d start as friends again, and that would give yosuke enough chance to get the hell over himself (as much as even possible) before they try again. or it happens by accident. the scenario i’m envisioning is like:
2011, they date, it’s bad
they break up, yu returns to the city
as he’s leaving, yu says “keep in touch, alright?”
yosuke does not, in fact, keep in touch
yosuke gets through his 3rd year at yasogami, graduates, and works at junes for a year or two
in that time, he does some serious thinking about his past present and future, grows as a person, reevaluates his place in the world now that it doesn’t revolve around one person or a murder case, and decides he’d like to go to college
moves to the city for college
suprise suprise, he runs into yu eventually
repressed memories dot jpeg
yosuke does his best impression of a raisin in a fullbody cringe
but yu is genuinely happy to see him again and makes the effort to reach out
they start hanging out again
yosuke was sure it would be awkward cause of their history but it’s actually just good and comfortable like it used to be, but better cause they’re both mature people by now
(they’re both entirely sidestepping the elephant in the room)
like frogs in a pot of boiling water, their rekindled friendship becomes less and less strictly platonic as the weeks and months pass by, both too scared to acknowledge the past or present because it’s good this time
yosuke, with his newfound (and hard fought for) self-awareness, gets his shit together and drops the sword of damocles himself
yadda yadda romcom third act
second try’s the charm and whatnot, they date, and the ups and downs are manageable and its good
#i’m out here writing a chick flick#ultimately this is a plot rather than a character study like i usually prefer though#i’d have to refine it further to give specifics of thought patterns like i’m inclined#but at that point i’d be for real writing a whole ass fanfic lol#rambles#asks#yosukeposting
12 notes
·
View notes
Note
Eddie's first grey hairs please
Hi anon! 🫶
I personally LOVE this one uggggh, like I’m going feral over the thought of Eddie (and Ryan) having grey hairs 🤤 (as is probably evident in the snippet below 😂)
Ask me about my wips 💌
Eddie had always been sexy but the thought of him with specks of grey mixed in with the dark brown only made him look even more attractive. It was almost unfair. Especially because the few strands that he had now were barely visible. Once the first streak sets in, Buck wouldn’t be able to control himself.
Who was he kidding?
He was already seconds away from losing control now.
“Yes” Eddie grumbled unhappily and folded his arms across his chest, muscles bulging beneath his tight LAFD t-shirt. “It makes me look old and tired and I don’t want to feel like that”
This is almost too much.
“Old and tired aren’t exactly the words that I would use” Buck had to contain himself.
Eddie snorted, waving his hand nonchalantly around his head, gritting his teeth a little. “Then what would you call it then?” He asked, genuine curiosity in his words as he turned to look at Buck, who was on the verge of combusting on the spot.
They haven’t even kissed before but by god, Buck wanted Eddie to know just how much this turned him on. And he could feel his waistband already starting to tighten, his cock slowly becoming half hard the more riled up about this Eddie seemed to get.
Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers in the belt loops and pulled Eddie flush against his chest, painfully aware of the heat surging throughout his entire body, now pressing against Eddie’s thigh.
“I would call it fucking hot, Eddie. Do you have any idea how much it turns me on? I can’t believe that you’ve been acting like this because of a few grey hairs when it literally has the opposite effect” Buck murmured, confidence almost radiating off him as he traced his hand up from Eddie’s waist, to his chest, to the side of his neck and finally, into his hair, admiring the grey hairs.
Eddie sputtered, unable to find his words as Buck’s half hard cock pressed against his thigh. “I-… I think I have an idea of how much it turns you on” He managed to stammer out, glancing down between them before locking eyes with Buck, the blue in his eyes almost replaced by complete blackness.
“What are you gonna do about it?” Buck questioned, gently tugging a little at Eddie’s hair, watching his mouth falling agape like a puppet on a string. “Or would you rather hear what I’d like you to do me?”
Eddie’s heart was pounding against his chest, the reality of the moment slowly sinking in as his lips almost instinctively connected with Buck’s in a deep, heated kiss, not wanting to waste another second.
His lips were warm and soft, tasted a little like beer but so much like Buck and that was exactly what Eddie had been craving for the past five years. When he pulled away from him, it was only to catch his breath, before he quickly came back for more, unable to stay away and his hands made their way to Buck’s hips, pulling him closer. “What do you want me to do to you, Buck?”
#buddie#buddie fic#im completely normal about this#no im not sushsjsksk#it does…things to me#buck x eddie
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
Kissing prompt 19 for Lalex and/or #12 for Willie/Reggie please!
Alex isn’t sure how he kept getting talked into attending these parties. They always ended up going the same way for him. Attempting to socialize, or more accurately getting dragged along by his more extroverted friends as they socialized, until he could find a decent corner, dog, or bookshelf to hide behind or with. Occasionally Julie or Bobby would tag along and they could commiserate their misery together. However Julie had a final to study for and Bobby couldn’t(didn’t want to) get out of his shift at work.
This party was especially shitty as he’d lost track of the rest of his friends fairly quickly. Flynn and Carrie would occasionally show up to dance in the living room where he sat, people watching. The last he saw of Willie and Reggie they were causing havoc by the drinks. From what Alex’s gathered they had attempted to bartend while neither knew the first thing about mixing drinks. And Luke, who knew where Luke ever disappeared to at any of these things.
“Hey hot stuff.”
Speak of the devil. Luke flopped into Alex’s lap seemingly from out of nowhere, arms almost immediately wrapping around his shoulders. “What’cha up to?”
Alex adjusted his position as best as he could without knocking the beaming Luke from his spot. The weight of his friend rather calming. Luke’s fingers found their way into the back of Alex’s hair, fidgety as always.
“Wondering what kind of chaos Reg and Willie are causing.” Alex answered.
Luke snorted. “No need to worry there. I saw them making out near the pantry.”
Alex’s lip twitched in that way they always did when he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh at or be annoyed with a situation. Of course that’s where they’d vanished too, the same place they disappeared to every other party.
“Feeling left out?” Luke leaned in, voice managing to somehow straddle the line between teasing and genuine concern. Alex honestly couldn’t articulate an answer to that one, not entirely sure where Luke’s question was heading. Honestly he was happy Willie and Reggie were enjoying themselves, and he was feeling better and less bitter with Luke here in his lap.
“I’m fine.” Is the answer Alex eventually landed on, smiling as he admired the ways Luke’s ever changing eyes shifted in the dim lights.
Somehow the two of them slowly leaned closer to each other. Only realizing they had been getting closer when lips connected, soft, unhurried.
“Wait.” Luke suddenly pulled back, brows climbing up his forehead. “Do you want to do this?”
Alex swallowed his laugh, pulling Luke back towards him by the front of his shirt. His other hand found its way to the back of his neck, the other boy was wearing one of his silly beanies today so his hair was harder to get to. Alex pulled Luke’s lower lip between his teeth just long enough to elicit a very interested groan out of him.
Luke looked utterly betrayed when Alex pulled back then. He didn’t stay very away for long, resting their foreheads together so Luke could hear his very pointed whisper. “I’d rather do this at home.”
Luke swallowed hard, stumbling to the floor in his haste to stand up. “Home, yes. Sounds good.” The guitarist fumbled his phone around, no doubt attempting to text the others to let them know. Alex was already working on his own message as Luke’s typing was barely better than his handwriting when his mind wasn’t distracted.
It was a small miracle Luke didn’t combust in the short wait it took to get replies and the go ahead to go from their friends. Maybe Alex could afford to go to a few more parties if it meant getting Luke this riled up.
7 notes
·
View notes