#Oops I'm too early for this prompt

[jaylienpotter]

From @jegulus-microfic prompt "skirt" | 600 words

Part 1 of Let them be (can be read as a standalone)

Part 2 >

Let boys wear trousers

Regulus Black hated the Hogwarts uniform. Absolute despised it. He could hide his chest with spells or tight bras or bigger clothes - thankfully he had small breasts already. But he couldn't do anything about the bottom part. He had asked Dumbledore himself to wear trousers instead but he was denied, as it was "tradition" and "the school rules" and Ms. Black was probably "confused" - fucking prick.

He wasn't fully out. His friends knew and called him by the name he chose. So did Sirius and his mates. At first people slipped, calling him by his deadname and used she/her pronouns. It didn't last long, though. And thankfully it barely happened at all with his brother. None of their friends had a problem with it, thankfully. But it was still hard to connect to people. Fully connect.

Tears of frustration were running down his cheeks after he left the Headmaster's office.

"Black?" He looked to his left and faced a tanned Gryffindor with round glasses. Potter was Sirius's best friend. "Black, are you okay?" James got closer to the boy, his voice sweet and comforting, dark eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"Dumbledore is a bloody fucking prick!"

"Regulus, what happened?" The people he was out to called him by his last name when in public, but they were close enough that others wouldn't hear.

"He won't let me wear trousers. Transphobe. It doesn't even make sense! Some girls don't like skirts! It's such a fucking stupid rule!"

"Hey…" two big hands rested on his shoulders and he looked up for the first time. "It's okay, we'll fix this somehow. I'll talk to Mcgonagall, she can convince that old man sometimes."

"You can try but it probably won't work…" Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Black pulled himself together. Like he was taught. "It doesn't matter. I'll be fine." That was a lie and they both knew it. Still no one said anything as he walked away.

Pandora was lovely. She did her best to cheer him up in the dorm but the fact that he was sharing with a girl brought him dysphoria. Regulus didn't belong there.

It's an understatement saying that he was shocked when he saw James Potter strutting confidently into the Great Hall for breakfast wearing a skirt. What the fuck was he doing?!

"Potter. Why in the name of Merlin are you wearing a skirt?! You're going to get detention!"

"See, Black, I am protesting. Until girls are allowed to wear trousers, I will be breaking the dress code." He blinked. Regulus blinked twice. His heart stopped and the way he saw his brother's best friend suddenly shifted. He was protesting for Regulus. Getting in detention for Regulus. Most likely would face hate, all for Regulus. Yet he was completely unfazed. Potter wasn't stupid. He knew what he got himself into. But still, he did it anyway?

"But… Why? I mean- where did you even get the skirt??"

"It's Mary's. And I felt like it. Occurred to me randomly. Was bored so I thought 'why not start a protest?', you know?" That was a big fat lie and the Gryffindor wasn't even trying to hide it. He wore a wide smirk on his face. Gosh, how Regulus wanted to kiss those lips. Instead he just smiled. His genuine curved down smile, a rarity.

"You're gonna get in trouble, you know that right?"

"Since when do I, James Potter, the king of mischief, care about that?" That grin again. Black could stare for hours, take in every detail of the handsome Gryffindor's face.

"You're an idiot."

[ehlnofay]

19 for the worldbuilding prompts + Torr?

the profound quiet of a small settlement at night

North Eastmarch is freezing cold all over, but it wears different outside the city than within.

Torr would never call Windhelm warm – not even in summer months, no matter how used to it they are – but what little heat it has it clings to with great determination. The walls huddle together, trapping the air so that it’s either still and muggy or a howling wind, like each close-knit house is breathing in tandem. The heat of the people run up and down its streets, blood through its knotted stone veins. The city is alive, an ecosystem unto itself; its snow, dark with footprints, runs sludgy down the roads; a fireplace is always burning somewhere.

Outside of the walls, surrounded by nothing but empty air and snow-laden trees, a slow-moving stream running with barely a burble – it feels dead, in contrast. Silent. Branches reach needle-sharp across the blue-black sky, the ground is gleaming white and undisturbed by anyone else’s footprints, and the nearest fire is the barely visible gleam of the Kynesgrove mining camp, up the hill and through the sporadic spindles of the trees. The breeze ghosts past Torr’s neck and whips the mud-stained snow into a flurry.

In the city, Torr’s comfortable sleeping almost anywhere – as comfortable as they ever get, anyway. Some of the buildings have great gaps under the porch where the snow can’t reach and no-one ever finds them; there’s places in the nooks of the walls, and sheds built into the side of the house that people don’t lock, and Torr knows a few people besides who don’t mind him kipping on their floor every now and again, as long as he doesn’t ask too often. The outside isn’t like that. There’s not many places to go. He’s lurking around Kynesgrove tonight – on his way back from a quick venture out to get some things done that pay better than running errands around the markets – and there aren’t many options. The inn, which he can’t afford – the mine, which would be warm but is very guarded – the miner’s encampment or someone’s house, both of which would most likely result in being chased off. Besides, there’s a performative element to meeting people, especially adults, in strange places, and Torr’s not in the mood to play to strangers. So much of his being is caught up in Windhelm’s grimy alleys, tangled in the hair and fingers of its discarded children; he doesn’t know how to be himself away from it all.

But they don’t have to, seeing as there’s the rickety old sawmill on the edge of a stream feeding into the harbour. It’s not bad, as shelter goes; no walls, so the wind rubs its fingers wraithlike down Torr’s cheeks and tangles them in his hair, but at least there’s a roof. It looks newly thatched, too, the floorboards free of rot, the water-wheel still chugging creakily along. There’s no wood to cut here, all the nearby surrounding trees too scraggy to be worth the bother. The only big ones are part of the grove up on the hill. There’s no point in keeping the mill running, but Torr is glad it is; he watches the distant firelight flickering through the scrub, and listens to the splashing of the wheel. It’s proof that people and the things they make do still exist – if not necessarily here.

It really feels dead, out in the cold, with the leafless trees and the wind that doesn’t even whisper. It always does. It’s a bit discomfiting, which is maybe why Torr doesn’t go on out-of-city endeavours as often as perhaps he could; but really, there’s not work out here enough to make it worth it. There’s always problems with bandits on the road, but Torr’s not a good enough fighter for bounty work; there’s collecting plants and things to sell Nurelion, but that’s easy enough to do on a day trip. (And, really, it’s more for Torr’s own enjoyment, besides. They never even venture far south enough to get to the sulphur pools, which is where the more interesting things grow.)

This trip, though, is an outlier. Unusually efficient. Just a quick job for Niranye, scouting a merchant’s cart on the road – almost definitely for something shady, but that’s not Torr’s business, and it was too much money too easy to turn down. And then – just earlier today, foraging out in the wilderness as best as Torr (a distinctly urban animal) knows how – they’d come across a giant’s corpse, stiff and white as the snow it lay in. Torr’s no master alchemist but they know the value of a cadaver when it comes to brewing alloys and admixtures, so they set to with their blunt-edged dagger and now they’ve got a sack full of what may as well be gold. (Long as it doesn’t start to rot before they can get Nurelion to preserve it, anyway.)

Torr’s going to be rolling in it when they get back to Windhelm. They could use that money for nearly anything – pay off a few things they borrowed, new warm things now that winter’s coming back strong, bedrolls, waterskins. Endless options – which, strangely, is more exciting than it is burdensome.

It’s all the sort of decision that would ordinarily feel life-or-death urgent but right now feels – not small. Not insignificant, not at all, but distant. A choice to be made at another time, by another person.

(Torr’s whole being belongs to Windhelm’s back streets. They’re someone else, away from it all.)

That’s the other thing about leaving the city, spending time in the discomfiting slow-paced ghost-world outside. It’s quiet. Torr sits surrounded by the wind in the trees, the lazy murmur of the stream, the creak of the water-wheel, and nothing else.

He’s been called a worrywart (mostly by Griss in a strop) but to tell the truth he doesn’t think that’s true. Torr doesn’t fuss for the sake of fussing, he just doesn’t like to leave things undone; can’t stop until he finds a solution. Out here, alone, in the empty cold, there are no solutions to find – same old problems back home, he knows, but no steps he can take at this time to right them. That’s never true while he’s in the city, so he can never stop thinking about it, every choice and action accompanied by a buzzing background chorus of everything else he really should be doing – that really should have been done by now – that should never have been left undone this long, what was he thinking? Everything is urgent when it’s doable. But here and now, there’s nothing to do.

So Torr sits hunched on the board floor of the ramshackle watermill, huddled among their heaps of bags and blankets, and thinks of nothing at all.

Not strictly true. They think of supper – haven’t eaten since an apple this morning, except for some snowberries they found around noon, and it’s been a long day. They nabbed some turnips from the garden of the Kynesgrove inn on their way to the mill. They’re fresh, if nothing else – also covered in dirt, so Torr rises reluctantly from their pile of stuff to crouch on the banks of the stream and dip the vegetables in to clean them off. It aches like hell, the frozen water turning their joints to ice – they almost drop the turnip they’re washing, so they scrub it as best they can with the frigid pad of their thumb and whip their hands out of the water soon as they’re able. They stick their fingers in their mouth to warm them back up.

Even after all that time spent warming up their hands, arraying all their belongings back around themself to conserve body heat, the turnips are still cold enough to hurt Torr’s teeth when he bites in. He eats them anyway, relishing a little in the unearthly silence and the aching of his lips and palms. They taste delicious.

With nothing else to do after, the gnawing of his stomach sated, he wraps himself in his shawl and stares up the hill at the camp’s fire until it goes out. The stars wink into brighter being. The wind whistles through the whip-thin branches of the trees. The water-wheel creaks.

Torr sleeps, but he feels like he hears it all – a silent observer, an echo, a beginning – until morning.

[loganhowlettshousewife]

lazy mornings and the proposal

animal - bonus headcanons

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

i wanted to let everyone know that even with the epilogue coming out soon and the series being officially over, i'm still not ready to let go of these two. so if you have any ideas or prompts or questions about feral!logan feel free to submit an ask!

warnings: mentions of sex, light sweat kink (oops)

series masterlist │my masterlist

there’s nothing better than a lazy morning with logan, staying in bed long past sunrise, chasing the warmth that can be found in each others arms. it’s rare, these days, now that he’s gotten a job as a lumberjack and has to be up fairly early most mornings for work, making sure to wake you before he leaves, kissing you deeply and reminding you that he loves you. gone are the days where the two of you would stay home together, locked in your own little world with no one to bother you.

he’d wanted - no, he’d needed, really- to get a job. it gave him something to do with his days, a purpose other than stalking your every move, following behind you like a shadow as you went about your day. it’s a distraction, and a welcome one, one that gives him the opportunity to be a more balanced version of himself, to find peace and trust that you aren’t going to disappear if he leaves you out of his sight for more than a few seconds.

he brings home a decent paycheck, much more than you were making by selling the extra produce from your garden. it’s unnecessary, everything you own had once belonged to your grandparents and has long been paid off, but it’s nice to have the extra cash, to be able to go into town with logan and splurge on expensive alcohol for him and gorgeous new dresses for you.

he’s good at what he does, hacking away at wood with his unnatural strength given to him by his mutation. he’s the best at what he does, to the point where you occasionally worry it’s become too obvious that he’s not like the others, but he always comes home safe.

the smell of wood and sweat cling to him like a second skin and you bury your face in his neck, understanding his obsession with doing the same to you, loving the way the smell of him surrounds you, makes you feel like he’s the only thing in the world. maybe it should be gross, he’s exerted himself all day and is covered by the proof of it, but there’s something about it that makes you melt into him every time.

he takes off his muddy shoes and picks you up, ignoring your squeal of protest at the unexpected gesture, smirks when you wrap your legs around his waist. he brings you into your bedroom to take the stress of his day out on your body or into the bathroom where you run your hands over his bare skin and wash away anything that isn’t your loving touch. either way, the tension leaves him the moment he’s returned to you, able to recognise that you’re safe.

you love the life you’ve built, the ease and comfort of it, and yet those lazy mornings, so few and far between, are still your favourite. the days where logan doesn't have to go into work and you push back your daily chores for later because you would much prefer to stay snuggled up in bed, laughing as he kisses your neck and bare shoulders, twinning your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

the night he proposes starts off like any other. he returns home from work to the smell of dinner in the oven, takes you apart under the warm stream of water from the showerhead beating down on your skin, lets you wash away the grime from his body and dig your hands into the tense muscles of his back, massaging away the day’s activities. he melts into you, letting you care for him in a way he’d never let anyone else, and you smile beatifically.

when you exit the shower, it’s to the sound of the oven timer going off, announcing that the dinner you’d prepared for the two of you is ready. you hardly notice when logan doesn’t follow you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen as usual - some days he returns from a long day on the job and refuses to leave your side, on others he needs moments of solitude peppered in to keep the overstimulation at bay.

he stops in your shared bedroom as you plate the food, giving logan double your portion size as usual.

his body requires more energy to function, his healing factor taking a lot out of him. it’s not something logan ever noticed, since he doesn’t bother to worry about his own health most of the time, but you see the way it affects him when he doesn’t eat the way he should. it’s horribly taxing on his body, making his veins protrude from his skin in harsh lines, a reminder that no matter how easy it is to ignore it when looking at his muscular and imposing stature, his body is still starving.

you’ve made it your mission to feed him, and so you narrow your eyes into a glare until he finishes his plate, leaning over afterwards to kiss the annoyance from your lips, muttering praises and thanks that have your skin tingling and face feeling hot. 

he’s healthier now, a layer of fat covering his muscles, a softness to his body that wasn’t there before. it’s something you pride yourself on, the knowledge that you’re taking good care of him.

he doesn’t talk much throughout dinner, though he never does. you tell him about the latest book you’ve started reading, going back and forth on whether or not you’re truly enjoying it, complaining about the characters personalities while raving about the writing style. it makes logan smile, watching you be so passionate.

he gives you a few vague sentences about his day at work when you press him about it. “it’s not that interesting,” he says, the same excuse he gives every day. occasionally, he’ll have some gossip to share about the men he works with, his enhanced hearing allowing him to listen to their conversations without being forced to partake in them, but not today. “would much rather listen to you talk, darlin’.”

with desert in front of you and a peaceful lull in they conversation he takes your hand, kisses the back of it with his slightly chapped lips before getting down on one knee and pulling out the ring he’d bought a few weekends ago while you perused the farmer’s market stalls. it’s not big or flashy, the night is hardly out of the ordinary in any way, but it’s perfect. your eyes prick with tears that you attempt to hold back but fall anyway the moment you blink.

this is what makes yours and logan’s relationship, the understanding that there’s no need to be anything but yourselves, that as long as he’s here promising to love you forever, pleading you to do the same, there’s nothing else that could come close to matching the joy in your heart as you say yes.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

[hiddenonyx]

Obey Me! Beach Day Headcanons

a/n: oops I fell off the face of the earth. I'm slowly working on stuff, trying to clean what shit I had started, before I work on other stuff, but here's a little something that I threw together. *this is mostly unedited so apologizes

Prompt: what each cast member does during a day trip to Diavolo's beach.

Lucifer - reclines on a sun-lounger in the shade with a tropical (alcoholic) drink and either reads, or sleeps. He was told to relax so he is - and he's not responsible for anything his brothers do, nor will he fix any problems that they inevitably cause.

Mammon - goes swimming and does a little bit of diving. Often gets roped into doing something on the beach - such as building sand castles, burying people, or some sport - or helping Asmo take photos.

Levi - either buries himself in the sand or goes swimming. If he decides to be buried, he's going to take a long nap - making up for all his lost sleep from late gaming nights and early mornings for conventions. If he's swimming, he's probably trying to spook people (mainly Mammon) by pulling at their legs.

Satan - likes to look for tide pools and see if he can't name everything in them, or he walks the shore line during low tide to see what turns up. He also tends to be the one asked to identify any weird creature anyone else finds. If he's not poking around tide pools, he's reading in the shade with a nice, easy drink.

Asmo - takes pictures. He takes pictures of everything - himself, his brothers outfits, food, drinks, the environment, you name it, he's probably already taken a photo of it. When he's forced to put the camera down, Asmo enjoys building sand castles or sitting on the shore line and letting the waves gently wash up against him.

Beel - does a bit of everything, almost. Tags along for swimming, and him and Belphie often accompany Satan on his walks to the tide pools. Beel also enjoys helping Asmo build sand castles and doesn't mind simply relaxing in the shade either. He's the one who offers to take care of Luke so Simeon can finally go drink relax.

Belphie - just sleep. Picks a nice shady hammock not far from where everyone is and just passes out. Though he is willing to be woken up for a poke around tide pools and the shoreline at low tide.

Diavolo - is very much like Beel, and does a bit of everything, though he does prefer activities involving water. Probably accidentally start a water fight, and then while he's dripping wet, go hug Lucifer who protests immensely because he didn't want to get wet at all.

Barbatos - stays exclusively in the shade. While he might be an aquatic demon, Barbatos is more used to the icy black depths of almost arctic water than warm tropical water. Man is sweating and counting down the minutes till they go home (there's still 5 hours to go). Despite being in the shade and wearing (and reapplying) the most sunscreen ends up being incredibly tan or sunburnt afterwards.

Simeon - supervises Luke for the most part. Helps him build sand castles, and holds his hand when the big waves come to the shore while they're walking. Picks up a few shells for Luke too , and when someone else (Beel) offers to take care of Luke so Simeon can relax a bit, he drinks almost as much liquor as Lucifer does.

Luke - is so excited that he doesn't even care if he's showing it. Tries everything minus actually swimming in the ocean (everyone agreed that that activity was probably a little too much and too dangerous for Luke). Even lets himself be buried in the sand. Ends up a little tan and maybe with a light sun burn, but can't wait to go again.

Solomon -ends up also in the shade, probably next to Barbatos so that they can be grumpy together. Didn't even bring anything to do because he knows he's going to sweat too much to really tinker on anything. Futility applies sunscreen knowing damn well he's going to walk away sunburnt regardless.

-------

The Master List

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[cjlouwho]

Okay, here’s a prompt: I know everyone wants to see Tommy’s helicopter crash and Buck go save him (I do too obvs), buuuuut what about Buck gets into a dangerous situation on a call and Tommy has to save him 👀

first, I didn't see the "on a call" so oops, but here you go! trigger warning: mass shooting, blood, reference to child abuse.

He couldn't stop staring at the blood that covered his hands as he waited in the hospital lobby. It had long dried, some of it flaking away when he'd curl hands into fists. Most of it stayed though. A harsh reminder of how their perfect day turned into a horror show in the blink of an eye.

His legs shook with anxiety. He was usually so calm and collected. Even in the worst situations he could hold himself together. He wasn't one to panic.

But he was panicking now.

“Tommy,” Eddie's voice was gentle as he sat down beside him, “you need to go wash that off.”

Tommy tore his red, wet eyes away from his hands to look over at Eddie. “I can't.” His own voice shaky. “I can't leave here. I have to... I need to wait on the doctor.”

“You're not going to miss the doctor. I promise I will get you if she comes out while you're in the bathroom.”

Tommy shook his head, his gaze returning to the blood. “No.”

Eddie sighed. He didn't want to push the issue, but there was a fairly extreme amount of blood still on the man, and there were certain people who didn't need to see it. “Tommy, Maddie and Chim are about to get here, and they...” his voice trailed off as a tear dropped down from Tommy's face and onto his shirt. “I'll, uh, I'm gonna go get some wet towels from a nurse,” he offered instead. “You can clean up here.”

It had been such a good day. They'd woken up early together, still wrapped in each others arms from the night before. Buck had heard about an art show that was happening at the nearby convention center so that's where they headed after breakfast.

They were supposed to go to lunch afterward, head home for a while, then to Bobby's that night for dinner.

Tommy would have been fine with toast or a frozen waffle for breakfast, but Buck had insisted on making him something special.

“I think I've perfected omelettes,” he said excitedly as he hurried out of bed.

“You've been making perfect omelettes for a while now, Babe,” Tommy informed him.

Buck shook his head. “No, these are on another level. I'm sure of it.”

He wasn't wrong.

It was the best damn omelette Tommy's ever had.

Unfortunately, it had all come back up after he arrived at the hospital. Now, he wasn't sure if he could ever look at eggs again.

While Tommy was more of an art buff than Buck ever claimed to be, he had done a lot of research on the artists that would have their work displayed at the show. Buck had led them into the convention center hand in hand, a wide smile on his face.

Tommy may have loved looking at art, but he enjoyed looking at Buck even more.

They took turns talking about each piece. Buck would tell Tommy about the artist, Tommy would tell Buck about the art.

There were certain pieces that would grab Buck's attention more than others. They were usually colorful, abstract paintings. He'd tilt his head, think about it for a second before telling Tommy how it made him feel.

There was one certain painting, a slew of colors and chaos in the background with two figures in the forefront. One was a deep shade of blue, holding on tight to a red figure. Their bodies seemed to almost melt together in the center.

“What are you thinking?” Tommy asked, wrapping an arm around Buck's waist.

“It's me and you. You're blue, I'm red.” Buck made no effort to look away from the painting.

“Oh yeah?” A smile rose on Tommy's face. “How so?”

“Our, uh, our lives can be a little crazy sometimes, but you... you keep me steady.”

Tommy stared at Buck briefly before placing two fingers up underneath his chin. Buck turned to him and Tommy pressed their lips together gently.

“That's the most-”

His words were cut off by a loud bang. Followed by multiple bangs going off one after another.

Gun shots.

It happened so fast. People were screaming, crying, running all around.

The man with the gun was brought down quickly. There were security guards nearby who didn't hesitate to respond.

But all Tommy felt was something wet on his hands, up his arms, splattered on his shirt. All he saw was Buck dropping to the ground beside him with a loud thud.

Eyes wide, it felt like his heart was pounding but his breathing stopped at the same time.

He fell to his knees beside Buck as soon as reality hit.

“Ev- Evan. Evan!” He put his hands to Buck's face, tapping his cheek.

Buck's eyes fluttered open, but he didn't do much else.

Tommy searched over him, tearing his shirt to find the bullet wound.

No. Bullet wounds.

“Evan, I need you to keep your eyes open,” Tommy said, trying and failing to hide the panic in his voice. He pressed down on the wounds, one near his lung, the other over his abdomen.

“Evan, babe, can you keep them open for me?”

Buck's eyes opened again. He reached up to grab at Tommy's shirt, but he was too weak. His arm flopped back down fairly quickly. It looked like he was trying to speak, his lips moving without any words coming out.

“It's okay, Evan, you'll be okay. Someone call 911!” he yelled. He knew other people had been hurt, killed even. He knew there was most likely multiple people on the phone with 911, but it wasn't enough. He needed them there now.

There was so much blood. No matter how much he pressed, with every labored breath Buck let out, more blood poured between Tommy's fingers.

He kept his focus on Buck's eyes. “Stay with me, hon. That's it! Stay with me. I've got you, Evan.”

The paramedics arrived just as Buck's eyes closed, his body going limp.

*****

Tommy didn't remember calling Eddie. Or maybe it was Bobby? He'd look at his phone later to check. Didn't seem to matter right now. But most of the 118 was in the waiting room, scattered all around with their own worried faces and anxious ticks.

He must've asked Bobby to please leave him alone at some point, because he was sitting a few chairs away, and Tommy could feel his eyes on him every couple of minutes.

The feeling of a warm towel being placed over his hands brought him out of his trance. He hadn't even noticed Eddie crouching down in front of him.

“Want me to do it for you?” Eddie asked. He was talking to Tommy like he was a child. In any other circumstance, Tommy might have laughed about it, but there was no laughing happening right now.

Instead Tommy nodded. He wasn't sure he could do it himself. Not without breaking down in front of everyone.

Eddie began working on his right hand, the blood slowly transferring from his hand to the towel. He watched as it changed the towel from white to pink. He worked his way up his arm, just below the elbow. Tommy wasn't even sure how that much blood made it that far up his arms. The thought of it made his heart ache even more than it already was.

Once the right arm was done, Eddie picked up a second towel and started on his left hand.

Tommy tightened his hand when Eddie began to pull at the wedding band around his finger.

“Just need to get underneath it,” Eddie explained. “I'll put it right back.”

Tommy relaxed again and Eddie resumed cleaning him up.

He'd just finished when Maddie walked through the doors. In his peripheral Tommy could see Bobby getting up, could hear Howie's voice, Maddie's sniffles.

Eddie got up with the towels, walking out of view as quickly as he could.

Tommy could feel someone walking up behind him. He knew who it would be.

He couldn't even manage to get up. His legs felt like jelly.

There was a hand on his shoulder, then Maddie came into view.

Their eyes met. Maddie's were dark, filled with tears. Her lip trembled.

He was sure he didn't look much different.

She didn't speak, didn't ask questions. Just bent down and wrapped him up.

He held her as tightly as he could, letting himself sob into her shoulder. He didn't even know he could make the sounds that were coming out of him. Each one a deep, desperate plea for this all to be some horrible nightmare. He hadn't hyperventilated since he was fourteen, after his dad found out he'd been tearing out posters of all the boys from a teen magazine. Tommy had tried to convince him, unsuccessfully, that he was deciding on a new hairstyle and didn't know which one to choose. He felt the sting from his dad's belt on his back for nearly a week.

Maddie cried with him, yet somehow managed to soothe him at the same time. She ran a hand up and down his back, telling him it was okay over and over through her own hiccuped cries.

It took a few minutes, but Tommy managed to calm down. Maddie took a seat beside him, keeping a tight hold on his hand until the moment Buck's surgeon entered the waiting room.

Everyone was up and surrounding him within seconds. Tommy felt like he was about to throw up again, but he kept himself together.

“He's being moved to recovery now,” she said, and Tommy felt like he took his first real breath since Buck fell to the floor nearly six hours ago. She continued talking, going over exactly where the bullets hit and how much damage was done, but Tommy would have to ask about that later because he didn't hear anything else past Buck being in recovery.

Maddie squeezing his shoulder brought him back to the present. “Can we see him?” she asked.

“It'll take a few minutes to get him transferred, and he will probably be out for the night, but I'll have a nurse come get you as soon as he's in his room.”

*****

It took a couple of days for Buck to wake up enough to have a real conversation. Tommy was in the middle of making up the extra bed a nurse had managed to bring in for him when Buck asked where his wedding ring was at.

Tommy dug through the bag he'd been handed after Buck's surgery. He ignored the bloody clothes and went straight for the ring at the bottom.

He held it up as he headed back over to Buck, sitting beside him on the bed.

“Put it on for me?” Buck asked, holding out his hand.

Tommy did, gently gliding it over his finger until it was back right where it belonged. Tommy brought Buck's hand up to his mouth, softly kissing over the ring.

“Perfect,” Buck said, a content smile on his own face.

Tommy sighed. He rested Buck's hand between his own. “You were wrong the other day, you know.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “When?”

“At the art show, you remember that one painting?”

“The one I was looking at when-”

“Mhm.”

“I remember.”

“You said I was the blue one, and you were red. That I kept you steady.”

Buck nodded, unsure where Tommy was going with this.

Tommy kept his eyes on their intertwined hands. “It's the other way around,” he admitted.

He was met with silence, but after a moment Buck lifted his hand and pressed two fingers under Tommy's chin, lifting his head so their eyes met. “Come here,” he said, unable to raise himself up.

Tommy leaned forward until their lips met in a chaste kiss. Once they parted, Tommy kept his forehead pressed against Buck's.

“I love you, Mr. Buckley-Kinard,” Buck whispered in the space between them.

Tommy closed his eyes, letting the words soak in before whispering back, “I love you more, Mr. Buckley-Kinard.”

[tinytalkingtina]

Fancy Falling Into You Here

Written for the August @steddiemicrofic prompt, using the word "plug" and 437 words.

437 words | Rating T | Ao3 link

On their first date, Steve and Eddie come to realize they had first met under much more embarrassing circumstances.

Tags: EMT Steve, Coffee shop owner/clumsy Eddie, first date, minor injuries (nothing described in detail), modern AU, embarrassment, BBC's Sherlock haunting all of us when plugging in our phones

Inspired by @dreamwatch for making me think of steddifying this post! Author's notes under the cut

"G-d damn BBC Sherlock," Eddie grumbled as he fumbled plugging his phone into its charging cable for a third time. "Stupid Benedict Cumberbatch and his weird attractive cheekbones." 

A snort from the couch reminded him he actually had company, oops.

Eddie gave his date a grin. "Sorry, I'd love to say that I'm normally as graceful as a swan or something, but as you've seen, unfortunately abject clumsiness is par for the course. It's a miracle my coffee shop's still standing."

It was fine. He could still salvage this and come off as less of a disgruntled sad wet cat man to Smooth Hottie with Glasses and That ButtTM of daily matcha latte with oat milk order fame. Still, Hottie (who went by "Steve", apparently) didn't really seem turned off by Eddie's whole deal. He just laughed.

"Oh, trust me, I've seen much worse. My first year as an EMT, we got a call to a college dorm. This unlucky dude fell off the top bunk and somehow broke both legs and an arm.”

Eddie froze, his quest to charge his phone completely forgotten.

“Plus the guy managed to down the shade on the way too, honestly it was an impressive amount of damage from a 4 foot drop," Steve continued on, oblivious. “One of the funniest calls me and my partner have gotten, and we once had to take care of someone who accidentally fell on a Buzz Lightyear toy and somehow got it stuck up their—you okay man?"

"I panicked and thought the cord would hold my weight." Eddie hid his face in his hands.

"Oh shit. You're 'broke all his bones man'?”

This was a nightmare. "Oh my G-d, I was so woozy. Please tell me I didn’t say anything weird.”

“You asked if I could ‘kiss your booboos better.’ Guess you’ve grown out your hair since?”

"I had to buzz it all off that semester because I had an Incident with some gum," Eddie groaned. "You can go now, I won't hold it against you."

He heard Steve slide closer. "And what makes you think your whole 'Bambi on ice' thing isn't working for me?"

Eddie cracked open an eye. "You sure about that?"

"Pretty sure," he said with a wink. "Plus, if you meet my friend Robin, she's known me since high school. Which means she unfortunately has photos of my braces years. You’re gonna have to stick around long enough to see em."

Eddie stared. Smooth Hottie still wanted him somehow? "Okay Big Boy, looks like I will." 

Steve smiled back. “Good. Now, lean back, I owe you a few kisses.”

Authors notes:

In case you weren't on Tumblr in the early-mid 2010's and remain blissfully unaware of BBC's Sherlock, please watch this clip to understand why Eddie is cursing Benedict Cumberbatch when he fails to plug in his phone fully sober

Eddie, Jeff, and Chrissy run a little coffee shop (complete with monthly open mic/karaoke nights) that EMTs Steve and Robin frequent. Not to worry, Robin will eventually meet her future wife Vickie at the shop after Vickie wins her heart with a rendition of "Before He Cheats."

Originally I had injured Eddie ask Steve about his biblically accurate angel form, but since I decided that Eddie's accident took place around 2010, and the angel meme only took off in 2020, I rewrote the line to be about kissing his booboos. Let's pretend this happens after a separate accident befalls Eddie (he'll be fine): Eddie: Ouch, I was out of it after they gave me the painkillers. I think I called you an angel? Steve: Yeah, you asked if my biblically accurate form had eyes as pretty as my human ones.

[blackhairedjjun]

love flew away - k.th

pairing: kang taehyun x gn reader | genre / tropes: soft angst, amicable breakup, boxer!taehyun | word count: 1.1k | warnings: mentions of food and alcohol, pet names (love), heartbreak

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompts - OVER?: after a mutually reluctant (and unwanted but necessary) break-up, the sender calls/visits the receiver and tells them that they’re still in love with them. + VOICEMAIL: sender leaves a voicemail on the receiver’s phone after failing to get through to them, and reveals their love for them. (requested by @probably-too-obssessed - "Also the prompt says mutual break up for Over but can it be tweaked to Taehyun breaking up with Reader for some unavoidable reason instead? Tysm and I'd be happy with whatever you write! Congrstulations again!")

author's note: hello!! i'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, taehyun is the one who initiates the breakup with the reader but it's still friendly on both ends...? so yeah haha. also i listened to love flew away by laufey & adam melchor as inspiration for this and i got carried away and wrote 1k, oops. but i hope you enjoy!!

taehyun took you out to dinner on your last day as a couple.

had it not been for the breakup he had decided on a week ago, it would have felt like just another blissful date with him. he ordered all your favorite dishes and asked about your day as you waited for the orders, his wide eyes shining with affection while you chatted on. his hand rested on top of yours on the table, warm and inviting, his slender fingers intertwining with yours halfway through the meal. and when he smiled that adorable little smile of his in between his silly remarks, you felt your heart growing light in your chest. 

the evening finished off with a little wine, and you drank just enough to keep your senses while bathing the rest of the evening in the haze of a dream. and with taehyun squeezing your hand and gazing at you with shining eyes, you really did feel like you were in a dream that you couldn’t wake from.

he wrapped your jacket around your shoulders as you left the restaurant and waited for a cab. he linked his arms around yours and stood close by to keep you from swaying too much, and the warmth of his side kept you grounded. 

“my flight leaves early in the morning,” he said.

“i know…”

you turned to him and were surprised to see tears brimming in his eyes. taehyun didn’t cry much, but he looked at you so solemnly that the gravity of everything began to crash down on you. you met his gaze and when you touched your cheek, you realized that your own tears were starting to fall too.

“y/n…” he grabbed both your hands in his, giving them a firm squeeze. “i’m sorry i had to do this.”

you attempted to croak out another “i know,” but your voice broke before you could get the words out. your tears flowed so much that your vision blurred, and you choked back a sob.

he moved forward and held you close, one hand patting your back gently and the other still grasping onto your hand. you buried your head in his chest and sobbed as you inhaled his scent for the last time. he wore the cologne you had gifted him for his birthday, fresh and musky but a little sweet, and the memory of the gift made you sob harder.

the two of you said nothing for several moments. taehyun repeated another “i’m sorry, love” into your hair and squeezed you a bit tighter. the top of your head felt damp as his own tears fell more freely.

you had remained calm in the week since he announced the breakup; it had been a perfectly rational decision that suited the both of you. taehyun was moving overseas to continue training for his boxing career, and he knew that you had no intentions of moving with him when your own career was starting to take off. he hated the thought of a long-distance relationship that neither of you wanted, and just imagining the loneliness and the arguments that would result from it made him shudder. so when he proposed that you two break up while you were still on good terms, you agreed.

it makes perfect sense, you told yourself; if you had stayed together, you both would have been unhappy. but now, sobbing in his arms and feeling his heartbeat for the last time, a different kind of unhappiness wrapped around you. already you could feel the cold of not having him by your side, the silence from not listening to him chatter about something he had read, the emptiness of losing the man you loved with your whole being for two years. you held onto him tightly, as if doing so would keep the future would coming and let him stay.

when your tears finally subsided, you lifted your head to meet taehyun’s eyes. his forehead rested on yours and he lifted a hand to brush away a lingering tear from your cheek. you closed your eyes, savoring the small act of affection, and he leaned in for one last kiss.

his lips felt gentler on yours than they had ever been.

一

you barely slept that night, and in the first hours of the morning you and taehyun exchanged your last texts goodbye before he was due for his flight. he had left for the airport with his training team, no outsiders allowed, so you wished him farewell from the solitude of your room. 

your emotions came in waves in those hours. just when you thought you were finally at peace with the end of your relationship, the ache in your heart would start up once again, and the pain filled your senses so much that it would keep you from sleeping. the flood of emotions subsided for good only later that morning; your energy crashed and you fell asleep in an instant despite the bright sun outside. when you awoke it was already well into the afternoon.

you lifted your head from the bed and reached for the phone on your nightstand, barely getting up to do so. taehyun usually sent you a text as soon as he arrived somewhere new, and though it made no sense to expect one from him 一 as of today, he and you were no longer a couple 一 your heart still jumped in expectation out of sheer habit. maybe, just maybe, he had sent one last text... one more “one last”...

what you did not expect was an unread voicemail. 

you pressed to listen, and the sound of taehyun’s voice alone was enough to bring you to tears.

hey, y/n. so i finally landed here... i tried calling you but you didn’t pick up. i just wanted to tell you thank you for these last two years. i wish we had more time together but... (a sigh.) i was happy, i really was. you have no idea how amazing of a person you are... you’re incredibly caring, you brighten people’s days, you always listen to me and you work hard not just for yourself but for the people you care about. including me... and i hope that you, well, you stay the amazing person i fell in love with. no, i know you will be. and i hope you’ll be happy always. um, that’s all... (his voice breaks.) no, that’s not all. i love you, y/n. i love you.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

PRIDE MONTH PROMPTS 2024

They are here!!

Last year I released them in May, and I asked you when I should release it this year. You agreed I should release it early/mid april. And I think the perfect time is now! You have plenty of time to prepare your things for June!

So, here are 30 prompts, 1 prompt per day, for all of June! Use them for writing, or for art, or why not for something else creative you can come up with?

I will now write all the prompts in the list if it's hard to read, plus some explanations/suggestion what you can do for them.

Day 1. Actually, I'm not straight. Someone kicking off pride month by telling their nearest and dearest that they aren't straight, like everyone seems to think!

Day 2. Surprise! We're dating! A couple comes out to their friends ;)

Day 3. Early signs. Early signs someone was not straight, or not cis. Or both!

Day 4. Gender euphoria. Euphoooooriaaaaa forever to end of time /j Ok no but yeah, someone experiencing gender euphoria :) It's great :)

Day 5. Surprise! We're engaged! Surprise engagement! Did people even know they were dating?

Day 6. Proposal. You can choose to show the proposal for the couple at day 5... or a brand new couple! :D

Day 7. Pride flags. Are they making pride flags? Buying pride flags? Identifying pride flags? So much you can do! :)

Day 8. Prideful baking. A return from last year! Who's baking? Are they doing it with pride? Are they making rainbow cakes? This is also a way to make some ships be cute together as they bake.

Day 9. Wedding. To quote Sam from Glee: "YEAH! COME ON GUYS! GAY MARRIAGE GOOD!"

Day 10. Shenanigans at the Pride Parade. Time to let those characters run wild at the pride parade!

Day 11. Coming out as trans. Pretty self explanatory I think ;)

Day 12. Planning for a child. Two women, two men, maybe a trans couple... any not-cishet couple are planning for a child <3 Are they adopting? IVF? However they're doing it, they're gonna get that child :)

Day 13. Two moms. Two mommies thriving with their kiddos!

Day 14. Are they dating or not? People are speculating the relationship of some people.

Day 15. First crush. Aww, someone's first crush! Have they ever felt this before?

Day 16. Alternate universe. Go crazy with this! This could mean anything from "a universe in which this ship is canon" to "they live in a fantasy world". Do whatever!

Day 17. Realizing they're ace. Self explanatory ;)

Day 18. Two dads. Two daddies on request (Sorry I've watched too much of Papás por encargo (Daddies on request) to not make that joke). They'll do anything for the kids!

Day 19. I thought everyone liked both? What??? They don't?????

Day 20. Fruity sleepover. Anything and everything can happen at a sleepover!

Day 21. Pining. They pine so hard and yet... will their crush ever notice?

Day 22. Secret dating. Or are they as they secret as they think? How much chaos do they end up in to keep this?

Day 23. Dinner. Maybe just a normal dinner in a queer friendgroup. Or maybe someone coming out at dinner. Maybe the first dinner at their partner's house. Or maybe someone's making dinner for their loved one.

Day 24. Confession. Coming out confession? Confession to your crush? Just a confession about your favorite food in the middle of a pride parade? Yeah, you decide!

Day 25. Date. THEY'RE ON A DATE THE BABIES!!! Is it a good date? I hope so!

Day 26. Gender is a construct. Not everything is binary.

Day 27. Queer group meeting. You can toy around with this a lot. A group meeting with closeted gays? A group meeting with every character from your different fandoms that you headcanon as bi that you want to interact in the group meeting for disaster bi's? A group meeting for aces just vibing? Maybe we'll meet a lot of different groups!

Day 28. Accidental coming out. Oops!

Day 29. Alternate time period. You want to play out a little love story but instead they live in the 1950s? Or maybe they live in the future! Maybe they live in the medieval times! Woah!

Day 30. Growing old together. Look at them now. Who knew they'd find each other in the world and now they're here?

I hope I'm gonna see some of you in pride month! It's always a pleasure! Also, when the time comes in June, and you want to use one of these prompts, don't forget to tag me ;)

[desceros]

me: [looks at calendar, gets a wicked idea, looks into the camera] happy springtime, turtle fam! who's ready to celebrate the season?

...mating season, that is. hehe. [dodges the tomatoes]

so! i had the idea that it would be super fun to have a community-wide event where we all have a prompt and then everyone fills it in their own way.

...i then decided all the prompts i came up with were too good not to use, but also none of them were Good Enough to use exclusively, so i changed my mind and the prompt is now just MATING SEASON. with a few suggestions at the bottom of this post if you're looking for some.

since spring is coming upon us, i hereby invite everyone to join in the vernal festivities... which in turtle parlance, of course, means only one thing: write, draw, whatever your version of "mating season", then join me on march 1 to post it with the tag #TMNTSpringShellebration. we then shall browse the fine selection of our mutual artistic efforts, and basically just have a good time as a community.

here are the prompts i came up with as starters-slash-things-to-include if you're looking for a place to get started. feel free to use these at will, or use them to come up with something of your own:

“Please don’t make me explain this. It’s humiliating as is.”

Oops, Looks Like Mating Season Came A Week Early This Year

“…In all of my mating seasons, this has never happened before.”

“I told you not to come by! It’s mating season!”

Probably should have expected it to be different now that he’s not going through it alone.

Because of Shenanigans, you have to wait. Wait… Wait… ok now.

They’re not the right person for mating season… but they’re the one who’s here, so…

“Show me where it hurts."

so yeah! see you all on march 1 for the, uh, spring shellebration. party popper emoji

questions i imagine will be popping up and i hope will clear up here before my askbox swells beyond capacity under the cut to keep this post from being Way Too Long. also it's really not that serious it's just an excuse to write slash draw for everyone Please Don't Take This Thing Too Seriously It's Not That Serious:

"can i participate?" yes! it's literally just an invitation to do something. nothing fancier than that. no need to be following me or in my friend group or whatever.

"can i write (insert fic idea here)?" yep! so long as it's related to the idea of mating seasons, it flies. reader insert? hell yea. oc? hell yeah. solo turtle and his favorite pillow? go for it.

"can i draw (insert art idea here)?" yep! uh. i know tumblr has the cops watching for sin bin material, but you art people know how to deal with that. and if you don't, uh, ask the other art people. im just a feral cat in a trench coat

"how do i participate?" write/draw/collect songs for/whatever. then, on march 1, post it and tag it #TMNTSpringShellebration. also, for funsies, keep it hush hush what you're working on so we can all be super shocked when the day comes! except, y'know, that you're planning on joining in. totally do that.

"when do i post it?" march 1. whenever on that day. waves hands around in a vague gesture at time zones not mattering. seriously don't take this so seriously it's just me wanting to create cool shit with my friends with a little more structure to it

"does it have to be horny?" i mean. it's an event about mating season. so by definition it's going to be at least a little horny. but however you interpret it is cool. even if it's just. idk. leo sitting sweatily in a chair looking longingly at a glass of water bc he's thirstier than usual. be smart about things, people. i'm not your dad.

"which tmnt verse is this for?" whichever one you want it to be for!! rise! bayverse! 2007! your fan iteration! your friend's fan iteration! your mortal enemy's fan iteration! yes!

"will you be reblogging everything?" absolutely not, but this isn't an event About Me. i am incidental to the thing. it's about Us. coming together as a community. for horny turtles. puts my hands on your shoulders. do it for you. for your friends. for the community.

[skepsiss]

Post season 4 steddie fic with Steve helping Eddie recover? Like after hospital and he's technically "healed" but he's having trouble. Learning to walk again, shaky hands, sharp pains, things like that

I love them sm

I love them too, anon. This premise is like so many of my story premises for them, so I will try my best to keep it short cause I can see this getting way out of hand, oops. Lol. **Note, you can send me steddie prompts too! Anyone can** (tumblr keeps messing with this post and putting the read more WAY farther down. Forgive me) The idea behind this is they're not together, and neither of them quite knows that they have feelings for the other. Sort of... the blooming of a crush. Early, early stages of Steddie. -- "I can do it," Eddie said harshly as he attempted to pull himself out of the chair he had been lounging in. Steve stood there, arms hovering around the perimeter of the armchair, as Eddie struggled to stand. Maybe Steve had been a bit too attentive as of late, but Eddie had only been home from the hospital for a little over a week. After the accident, recovery hadn't been easy for Eddie--or Max for that matter, but while Max was still in hospital recovering, Eddie had been discharged back to the care of his uncle. Of course, Wayne was ecstatic to have Eddie back home, but with hospital bills and having to replace half of their trailer, Wayne didn't have a lot of time to spend at home. The Party had been volunteering around the clock to check in and help Eddie, but Steve had noticed that Eddie allowed very few of them to actually help him. Steve was one of those people, and even then, it was a fight. Eddie did not in fact 'do it,' as he tried to support his weight on his arms and stand. Instead, he managed to get up and then promptly collapse to the side, clinging to the armrest to stop himself from hitting the floor.

"Hey, woah--" Steve breathed, hunching to catch Eddie by one of his elbows.

Eddie snatched his arm away, looking frustrated and embarrassed as he kneeled on the ground. "Eddie, just let me help," Steve encouraged, sounding a bit exasperated as he tried to look Eddie in the face. "Don't mother-hen me," Eddie huffed, obviously trying to contain his emotions. He sounded on the verge of yelling, or like he was about to start weeping, but Steve tried to ignore that. He didn't need to embarrass Eddie any further. "Can I at least grab your cane for you?" Steve asked, sighing as he stood back up. Eddie took a moment, and then nodded, breathing out a gruff 'yeah,' without looking up. Steve moved to the door and grabbed the cane that Dustin had brought over a few days ago--one The Party had decorated and glued a dragon's head to the top of to make it 'cool.' Eddie had liked it, but he still didn't seem keen to use it.

Steve handed Eddie his walking stick and he grumbled before attempting to get his feet under himself again. "Just let me help," Steve said quietly, not stepping forward like he had before, but still standing there expectantly. "I need to be able to do it myself--" Eddie grouched, barely managing to get up onto wobbly knees and stand. "No you don't," Steve scolded, "not this early on---Eddie, you were in a hospital bed for over a month, you don't have the strength to do it by yourself." "Elaborate way to call me an uncoordinated nerd," Eddie huffed, obviously trying to inject some levity into the conversation.

"That's not what I'm saying," Steve sighed, keeping close attention to Eddie as he slowly started to pivot. "Just let me---" Eddie started as he tried to take a step forward and wobbled terribly. Steve was at his side instantly, catching Eddie around the waist and arm, stopping him from hitting the ground again. Eddie stilled in Steve's arms before Steve heard a small whine escaping him, that eventually turned into an angry snarl. "Don't---just--" Eddie complained, trying to pull away again, but not having the footing or the strength to break Steve's grip as he jerked back. "Just let me do it--" The threat of tears was evident again as Steve saw the frustration well up in Eddie's eyes. He didn't want to force Eddie, but this was getting ridiculous. "Why is it so important that you do it? I can help, Eddie. That's why I'm here, just let---" "Because you're not always going to be here!" Eddie snapped angrily, cutting Steve off. He looked away again but stopped struggling against Steve's grip, instead standing there with his face turned toward the ground like a dejected child. "What're you..." Steve trailed off, trying to grasp at Eddie's meaning. He didn't like how emotional this was making Eddie, and he didn't like that he wasn't able to help him. Whether that was with walking or feeling better. "You're not always going to be here..." Eddie repeated, his tone much softer as he continued to hold onto Steve, still unable to stand on his own.

"We'll... I'll be here for as long as you need," Steve tried, still not understanding what Eddie meant. "No--you... how long is it going to take for me to be normal again? A month? Five? What if it's never? What if I don't get better? You're not always---I'm not going to make any of you put your lives on hold so I can stand up and go take a fucking piss," Eddie gritted out, his voice getting tight at the end, his emotions obviously raw. Steve quieted as he stood there, understanding what Eddie meant, but not agreeing. He had to imagine that being immobilized by an injury would drive him insane too, and he understood to a degree how deregulating it was not to be able to do everything he demanded of his own body. Recovery was slow, and hard, and Eddie wasn't going to have an easy go of it, but pushing himself wasn't going to help.

"That's stupid," Steve said bluntly, watching as Eddie looked up at him, completely surprised by his words. "You almost died, Eddie. No one other than some action hero from a bad B-movie is going to recover that fast. You're just going to make it worse. You have to rebuild the muscles, man. Learn to walk properly; there isn't a point in doing it if you're going to teach yourself to do it wrong, and then have to correct yourself over and over. You'll probably hurt yourself. It'll be painful, man." Eddie seemed shocked silent by Steve's words, still hanging there as he stared. "Isn't it the same with music? You practice and practice the same string over and over again until you get it right? And then you have to practice the right way or you're never going to do it?" Steve asked, watching Eddie inhale unevenly. "Eddie... none of us are going to abandon you, that's not what we do. I'm not going to make you do this by yourself." Eddie looked away again, a choked-sounding laugh escaping him as he let his hair tumble in front of his face to hide his emotions. Steve didn't stare, instead trying to look across the room to give Eddie a bit of privacy. He knew this wasn't easy, and the emasculation of being unable to do anything by yourself had to suck, so Steve tried to preserve as much of Eddie's dignity as he could manage. "Yeah... like learning a new chord," Eddie swallowed, his voice sounding rough.

He took another beat before trying to stand up on his own again, leaning heavily on his cane, but not letting go of Steve's arm either. "Going to ruin your summer--I don't want to be a burden," Eddie breathed, obviously trying to sound a little jokey, despite his words. "You're not a burden," Steve replied easily, shifting to stand beside Eddie to help him walk toward the hall of the trailer. "What else am I doing with my summer? Swim? Actually, might be good to get you to swim. Low impact, but great muscle strengthening. Probably be good for you to swim." "I can't swim," Eddie laughed, his tone bittersweet and laced with a much deeper emotion. "I'll teach you," Steve offered, not putting too much stock in his own words. "I used to teach kids to swim all the time during the summer back in '83 and '84. It's easy." Eddie went quiet again as he took careful step after careful step down the hall toward the washroom. "Yeah... okay," Eddie mumbled quietly as he leaned on the door handle and breathed hard from the effort of walking just that short distance.

"Okay?" Steve repeated, "Hallelujah, he compromises." Steve said sarcastically as he helped Eddie slide the door aside. "Man, shut up," Eddie grouched, but he sounded charmed by the gentle tease. "What're you going to get mad about now? Not holding my dick while I piss?" "Grow up," Steve retorted, trying to sound friendly. Eddie laughed and Steve helped him as far as the sink before letting go. "Don't fall over, and don't try and stand. Just sit down, you're still recovering, man." "Don't tell me how to use the toilet, Harrington. You're not my nurse-maid," Eddie grouched, able to wobble from the sink edge to brace on the back of the toilet. "You're lucky I'm not, probably would have sedated you by now if that was the case," Steve teased again, getting another small laugh from Eddie before he turned to leave the room. "Holler if you need something." "Harrington..." Eddie mumbled, and Steve paused at the door as he held it open. "Don't... thanks... thank you." "Don't worry about it," Steve smiled, "any time man... really. Any time, I don't mind hanging out with you at all." Eddie glanced over at him, and Steve flashed him another smile before sliding the door shut and walking back down the hall. He leaned there, waiting for Eddie to call him back over when he needed him. None of this was easy, and he didn't blame Eddie for having a hard time with it. He wanted Eddie to get his freedom back as soon as possible, but he truly didn't mind hanging around with Eddie whenever he wanted him there. He liked it, actually. He liked feeling needed and helpful, and Steve liked the idea of teaching Eddie to swim. He owed a lot to Eddie, and he had meant it when he said he wasn't going to abandon him. A month, five, forever... Steve didn't plan on abandoning Eddie for anything.

[callofdudes]

Not the one that requested, but I think for the ace reader request’s wording, they meant the reader views the guys romantically but doesn’t confess as they are ace(not aroace) in fear of future rejection

Ooooh, oh that makes sense. Oops.... Well I might just write it all over again 🫣😬 that's my bad folks. That's my bad. So I'll just rewrite the prompt here and figure it out?? Same thing with the right prompt this time. I think I've got it this time.

It's literally almost the same writing of course I changed things, I just wasn't feeling trying to get creative all over again I'm sorry-

Telling them you love them... (Again)

Summary: Ace!Reader struggling to confess to the boys out of fear of not being sexually attracted to them.

Ghost 💀

You knew Ghost wasn't keen on love. He wasn't really keen on anything. So attempting to tell him you loved and appreciated him without being given a glare and a smack in the face was hard.

You usually kept to buying him gifts on the occasion, aiming to finish the paperwork he gave you early. But it all never felt like real appreciation.

You didn't want Ghost thinking that you were into him sexually. Yes you could admit he was attractive but it wasn't like that. That's where the struggles of your confessions lay... You were into him, so romantically swooned over him. And yet you wouldn't see him sexually if you were paid a million bucks. Because that just wasn't it.

It was easier just to write him a note, put down all your complicated emotions on paper and hope he would understand. And you dropped it in his office, worried he would freak out and yell at you for everything you said.

You were looking at documents on your computer when Ghost came into your office, completely unannounced.

"Sergeant."

"Oh- lieutenant!"

He holds up the note, placing it gently on your desk. You look down, immediately feeling ashamed of what you wrote. You wanted to cower away, not knowing how he would react. Would he be mad?? He obviously thought you liked him by the way he came in.

"I'm not mad, I'd just like to talk."

You flick your eyes back up, still feeling ashamed of the things you'd written.

"But I don't... Well, y'know."

"It's not like that..." You mutter, suddenly afraid to look up at him. Ghost's stance softens, voice getting a bit calmer.

"I hope it's not." He steps forward.

You frown, looking up at him. "I love you... Just romantically. I just didn't know how to tell you..."

He nods a little, piecing everything together again.

"And don't think its because of you, no no, I just-" Ghost stepped forward, his eyes locking with yours and he nodded. " I think I understand."

You smile, feeling relief fill you. "You gonna say it back??"

He huffs. "Maybe one day."

"I'll take that." You smiled and squeezed his hand.

The man hummed and nodded, squeezing your hand back. "Thank you I guess... You're not too bad yourself."

You chuckle and stand, eagerly embracing him. "I love you, Simon."

He tensed, but patted your back gently. "I know." He smiled softly. Embracing you firmer than before, resting the fabric of his mask against your forehead where you could feel the warm breaths against your skin. You knew this would work out. You weren't scared anymore.

Gaz 🧢

Gaz was quiet and reserved. Not like Ghost, but he was a private person. He preferred most of his time alone and you often wondered how Soap managed to drag him into such a tight knit friendship.

But you'd also grown close to Gaz. He wasn't as good with expressing his feelings in words he thought fit, so he just tried not to.

But you knew him for him. The music he liked, the movies and the bands. You two would spend hours just laughing and talking together in the quietness of the base, the best of friends.

You have wanted to express to Gaz how much you love him for a while now. Because you truly had fallen in love with him. But considering both of you couldn't get a grasp for proper words, you were afraid he would misunderstand.

Especially since you only saw him romantically. Funny little thing, but all you wanted was that soft, gentle affection and to finally be able to wrap your arms around him without fear. And yet you could never say it.

You were waiting by the cargo station, knee bouncing as you waited for the plane to open. Their mission had been met with problems and there was a slim chance they'd all come back alive.

When you saw Gaz you immediately ran to him, pulling him into your arms and hugging him tightly. "Oh thank goodness."

Gaz was a little surprised but hugged you back. You both stood there like that for a bit until you said it, you didn't care. You'd bottled it in in fear for so long, and you'd almost lost him. You almost lost your best friend. "I love you so much."

Gaz didn't question it. Didn't dig into it. He only held you tighter, reassuring you he loved you back, and he wasn't going anywhere. There wasn't any need for clarification, there just was. You pulled away enough to look into his eyes, and the relief filled you both to the brim, you'd sort it out later, go through the details later. For now, you were here and he was alive.

"You should get cleaned up. I'll make you some tea as well."

Gaz smiles. "You're awesome, thank you." He leans forward and presses a soft, almost feather light kiss to your cheek.

"Don't worry, I know." He whispered, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. You didn't have to worry, he knew about your sexuality. And he was perfectly ok with it.

And without a second thought you both parted ways for a time.

Sure, you'd sort the fine details out later, but right now there wasn't a question about where this was headed.

Price 🥃

Price was a warm yet harsh soul. You'd known him for a couple years and he'd been amazing guidance for you. Always a light you could follow. In the darkest of times you could always reach for his hand and be assured you'd find it.

You'd recently found yourself swooning over him. You wanted to be in his embrace, feel those reassuring and firm hugs. His beard against your forehead when he kissed your head while talking softly.

And yet. Because of your ranks the scandelousness of a relationship was a bit tedious in the work forece. Sexual or not. But you didn't have sexual feelings for him. You were swimming in the ocean of love. But that was it.

After a recent mission you'd come back a little scratched up. You thought you were going to die and were in tears when you walked over to Price, feeling his arms wrap around you to comfort you.

He hadn't been there with you that time. But you were relieved to be back. Even when he pulled you into his office to clean your face you were still softly crying.

"It's alright sergeant, I've got you..." Price reassured as he pressed the alcohol pad to your chin.

You sniffled, wiping a tear from your cheek. "Price??"

"Yes sergeant. I'm right here."

You sniffle. "You know I love you right?"

He looks deep into your eyes, taking a moment to process your body language and fully understand. "I love you too sergeant. I'm glad you're ok."

You nodded a little. "You... You know it's not sexual right? I'm sorry if..." You said weakly. The earlier regret of the mission had made you slip your tongue, and now you felt more anxiety.

"I know kid, I know." He patted your shoulder. "Come here, you're still a little shaken up aren'tcha?"

You nod and crawl into his arms, feeling him hug you tightly. "It's alright. I'm here." He runs his hand up to the your nape of your neck, reassuring you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "This alright?"

You nod, clinging to him.

"Alright. We'll sort all these feelings out together in the morning ok? But I understand, and its ok."

"I love you Price." You choked out again. He softly shushed you, keeping you in his arms. "I know Y/n, I know."

Soap 🧼

Johnny was not unfamiliar with your secrets. He knew you very well and had come to learn of your lack of sexual attraction to others. Didn't change how he saw you, you were still his bestie.

He himself was conflicted in if he should tell you that he loves you. He didn't know how you might take it and wanted to remain respectful of you and your boundaries.

You laid on his bed with him, listening and joking as he told you a story about setting off a small bomb near the recruit bathrooms.

He was laughing so hard his face turned red, smiling wide as his hand brushed across yours while trying to find air.

You smiled back, gently taking his hand in yours. You watched his cheeks tint red and it makes your heart flutter. You were so in love with him. But knowing Soap... You were so scared to confess to him. Especially with your lack of sexual attracion and knowing he wanted kids in he future.

You'd bothed talked about your ideal future relatonship, and though you were almot perfect for each other, the differences were staggering to say the least.

But the way he was looking at you. With tha lost look of utter happiness as he talked to you...

"Soap??" You look up at him with a slightly less whimsy gaze, contemplating the heaviness of your next words.

"Soap, I just want you to know... You're my best friend and.." you squeeze his hand. "I love you."

He slowly calmed down and looked at you. "Oh... you do?" He could see the look in your eye and shuffled closer, getting slightly into your bubble without realizing.

You felt comfortable with him. So incredibly comfortable. All those years fretting and worrying what he'd think. All you saw right now was the smile of your best friend and how much you were in love with him...

Soap is a little quiet for a moment. "Not sexual right?"

His frown makes you worry as you rush to explain as best you could all over again. You just really love him and everything about him. Just not sexually.

It makes a smile spread across his face. He takes your hand and places it against his chest. "You are the most amazing person in the whole world y/n. I don't know what I'd ever do without you. I love you too."

"You're sure... but, our futures?"

He leaned in, cupping your chin. "We'll figure it out, promise?''

You smile softly, happy to have said it. He leaned in, warm breath drifting over your lips. "Can I kiss you?" He asked. You nod, and before you know it, his lips are sinking against yours.

König 🐙

You sighed, bouncing your knee in agitation. The thought of your first solo mission... You'd be lying if you said it wasn't daunting. You'd always gone on missions with König or different members from KorTac. But you'd never been assigned your own mission.

You started to question if you'd be good enough and could get home ok. It made you worry, if you'd ever come back.

You were wrapped up in your thoughts, not noticing the large figure who sat down next to you, leaning over to look at your face. "What has you looking like that y/n?"

You looked up at the sound of his voice and sighed. "I'm just nervous about the mission..."

He nodded understandingly and took your hand in his. "You'll be alright. I do not doubt your abilities one bit you know. You'll do it."

You chuckle softly. "You say that now but... What if I get hurt??"

"Then I'll come find you." He squeezes your hand. "But you will be alright."

Your heart clenches hearing him say that. You'd found yourself falling in love with Konig after a bit of time working with him. And now you were contemplating telling him. The only thing keeping you nack was well... You weren't sexually attracted to him. And you didn't want Koing to take it the wrong way.

You squeeze his hand a little tighter.

"König? You know... You've really been a good friend. And you've helped me grow so much since I've been here... I really don't know what I'd do without you here with me."

He tutted softly. "Do not start writing the words for your obituary, y/n."

You sigh, leaning against his shoulder, relishing the last hours you have with him before you'll be sent off. "I... I love you König... You know that? You're everything to me. I know it hasn't been two years but-"

"Shh" he squeezes your hand. "Take some deep breaths." He smiles softly. "I love you too, but do not expect you to be going anywhere soon. Ok?"

You relax, seeing how it wasn't a big deal. "It's not... sexual though, but It doesn't mean I dont love you, I'm very attracted to you, but it's not... Like that."

He hummed again. "We'll talk about all this in detail when you get back. And you will return, alright?''

You nod once more. "Thank you König. Thank you."

He squeezes your hand again gently. For reassurance. To tell you no matter what he was there. No matter what.

Alejandro & Rudy.

Alejandro sighed loudly, flopping down on the couch next to you and Rodolfo.

"Well well, welcome back Mr. Vargas." You chuckle, putting down your phone to see his tired expression. "How did it go?" Rodolfo asked lazily, eyes still trained on his book, curled up on the couch, his thigh against yours.

"I'm so glad to be off my feet." Alejandro sighed, grabbing the tv remote and turned it on, flipping through the shows before finding something to play.

He gets back up again and wanders into the kitchen, grabbing three ice cold drinks, tossing the other two to you guys who eagerly catch them and crack them open.

Alejandro huffs when he sits back down, taking a swig and finally relaxing. "Glad to be back with my two favorite people."

You and the boys were close enough and comfortable enough that you were ok with their physical touch, so you were used to Alejandro wrapping a respectful arm around your shoulder and you'd usually end up snuggled up, giving Rodolfo the room to join when he wanted.

Today was no different as you snuggled up to his side and felt his warmth. "Geez, maybe you need a bath. And you smell fuckin' awful." You snort.

Rodolfo chuckles and nods. "I can smell you from here Ale."

The man only rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Ya both better appreciate my presence. It's a gift."

"We do appreicate you Ale."

Considering how romantically fallen down the stairs you were for these two you were surprised you hadn't confessed yet. Always relishing the times you got loving physical contact with them. But knowing Ale as the flirt you always hesitate confessing your romantic attraction. Especially as it wasn't backed by sexual attraction.

You snuggled closer. "You work really hard for us Alejandro. You deserve all the rest today." You smile and hug his waist. You really did appreciate him. The fear and the worry of what he might think, of how he'd feel if you ever expressed it... But you went for it. You wanted him to know how much you appreciated him. You really did.

"You know... I love you, Ale. Like I said, you're amazing and you support us so much. Working your butt off like this just so we get a few hours off."

But they both were aware of your sexual preferences. That being none, so hearing this from you, they knew it was nothing but soft affection you had in your heart for them...

Alejandro smiled softly, his arm wrapping a little tighter around you. "Is that so??" He chuckled. "Not even you could resist falling in love with this eh?"

You roll your eyes playfully as he pulls you closer by the shoulder and kisses the top of your head. "I love you too y/n."

You stick out your foot, bumping your feet against Rodolfo's. "You too mister!" He looks up and smiles. "You are good y/n, it's a blessing to have you with us."

"Then come here you, get in on the cuddles."

Rodolfo huffs and puts down his book, but curls up with you two as you all watch the show. He leans in and nuzzles his nose against your neck, kissing your jaw briefly. Soft affection. Nothing better than spending time with your two favorite people.

[weekend-whip]

Ninjago Fic Rec Week (2024): Day 2

Prompts: Multichaps/Villains! (catching up slowly but surely~)

Multichaps:

Shark Bait: ALRIGHT CONFESSION I haven't actually *read* this one yet ONLY because I know it's going to soooooo good and it's going to change my brain chemistry so I'm waiting until I am Emotionally Prepared but UWAH just the premise alone should be enough to entice you: Movie!verse with completely secret identities, and Lloyd/Green Ninja trying to take matters into his own hands...only for irony to make them worse, as is the story of his life. This author is already a legend as it is so who needs a summary GO READ GO READ NOW!!

Ninjago: The Nya Perspective: SINCE this masterpiece favorite of mine just updated not too long ago, there's no better time than to recommend it once again! Have you always wanted more from Nya in the early seasons?! Have you always wanted more of HER side of story?! Have you wonder how Nya became the person she is today?! Well wonder no longer for this story has got those answers and more!!!!

Sharpen the Scythe, Before He Reaps: Another that I've started but never finished, it's a reworking of the Day of the Departed, so you know it's FULL of Ghost!Cole goodness, from the good to the angsty!! And what I've read so far is sooo soul-grabbing (pun somewhat intended) and makes me wish DotD was even half as introspective as this jhgfdgfd

Thank You For Giving Me Wings: Over a year later and this is still my only multi-chap ninjago fic (...that, uh, isn't Legacyverse nor OC-related, oop). Still, it's never a bad time to have a little introspective on Wu bonding with his students over the years, moreso as family than anything else <3

All I'm Asking For: Quite possibly one of my very favorite Ninjago fics ever, it is REQUIRED reading as far as I'm concerned! Cole's the anchor character, but it follows EVERYONE in a slightly-altered aftermath of March of the Oni, with everyone recuperating, figuring out what's next for them with their lives and relationships, and spiced up with a little Christmas flair <3

Mechanical Hearts: A story I've been keeping an eye on for a while, it's a college Jaya au with plenty of Jay+Cole dynamic spread on top, and the way the author (hi Finn!!) writes all the characters is so deep even in the lighter moments and makes all the senes in the world for the setting they're in, and I love all the little nods to canon or the cheeky changes made along the way–it's so enjoyable!

Villains:

for want (for nothing): Not technically a villain, but Kai's certainly an antagonist here ooooooooh (a different, heart-wrenching take on the Kai-Lloyd confrontation in S4)

Lord Garmadon Is Not Impressed With the Future: Another one I've recced before, but now it has an equally villainous SEQUEL so I've gotta get everyone on the train again! And this story's got villain!Garmadon and villain!Garmadon-but-having-a-personal-crisis upon realizing that his future is...not at all what he wanted. And he also discovers himself beating the life out of his own son–so yeah. We definitely can't have THAT. Good stuff, good stuff.

Bucket List: Might be a slight cop-out since this is moreso about Kai BUT it IS my favorite Morro-related fic, and he is a villain, thus it fits! (...Plus I gotta put at least three stories in this section, c'mon). Anyway, Kai allows Morro to possess him for less-than-ideal reasons and presents a fascinating dynamic between the two and what it means to truly live and take responsibility (the good, the bad, the ugly, and all). Be mindful of the tags and warnings, though!

Outgrown (from Spider Lily's Claws): I knew I almost forgot a Harumi one! DR-fic in which Harumi stumbles across the monastery looking for a place to recuperate, and a company-starved Lloyd welcomes her to stay. A fascinating look at a Harumi who's still got her "Evil" instincts but is still trying to act in her best interests, while Lloyd...is Lloyd hgfhgd. I love their back-and-forth bad-idea-good-idea dynamic here a LOOOOOT

[siriuslystarbucks]

Midnight

Written for @prongsfoot-microfic prompt April 12, 2023: Midnight

Sirius checks the clock and holds back a sigh. It's only midnight, which means he got around an hour of sleep.

He looks at his boyfriend to see if he can chance getting up, but there's no way to do it without waking him. James is content in sleep, relaxed and loose, and laying half on top of him. It's a miracle he didn't wake up at the same time that Sirius did. 

He closes his eyes and tries to will himself back to sleep. He's exhausted, so it should be easy, but what keeps him awake now is the same thing that made it difficult for him to get to sleep in the first place. And it kept James up too, because he was trying to make Sirius feel better; the last thing he wants is to wake him up because of it.

Unfortunately, Sirius's plan to suffer alone doesn't last for long. He glances at the clock every two minutes for half an hour until he needs to use the loo, and when he squirms, James wakes up. Oops.

Sirius presses a kiss to James's head and extricates himself from under him as smoothly as he can. "Go back to sleep," he whispers.

"Where you goin'?" James mumbles.

"The loo."

He grumbles a little but doesn't seem to think twice about the excuse.

Sirius leaves the room, uses the toilet, then pads into the kitchen and starts a cuppa. He's surprised when, a minute later, James stumbles out of their room, rubbing at his eyes. "What are you doing up? Go back to bed," Sirius says, and even though his voice is quiet, it feels too loud.

"You didn't come back," James replies. His eyes are barely open as he makes his way over and practically falls on Sirius.

"You're tired. Go to sleep."

James brings his arms up and lopes them around Sirius's waist. "You're in here."

Sirius kisses his head, touched that James still does this after all their years together, but also worried. "You've got to get up early tomorrow for-"

"Don't care," he interrupts. "You're up, so I'm up."

It's on the tip of his tongue to argue, to insist that they don't have to do everything together, but James knows that. If it were simply a case of feeling restless, James would go back to sleep; but it's not that, and he knows it, so he's staying awake. For him.

[sweaterstatic]

@heropartnerweek

EDIT: OOPS MISREAD THE DATE AND POSTED TOO EARLY consider this a preview

Finally gonna (try) to get around to doing Hero-Partner week! First prompt was "first meeting", I used my team from a fanfic I'm writing! ...Syro and Enri did not have a very good first meeting

[cjlouwho]

I hope I'm not too late for a prompt..

Buck and Tommy enjoy waking up in the morning while cuddling eachother. Then Buck panics because he thinks he has a shift that he's going to be late to. Tommy tells him to stay a few more minutes. But Buck calls Bobby and finds out there is no shift (for whatever reason). They go back to cuddling.

this isn't morning, oops, and it's a little different than requested but I hope you like it!

Buck could sleep through anything when he was wrapped up in Tommy's arms, no exaggeration. Tommy was regularly shutting off Buck's alarm and rattling him awake himself because Buck was “too cozy” or “too warm” to hear the sound.

The only thing that would wake up Buck was his need to use the bathroom or his body naturally getting enough rest and being properly reset.

A rainy Sunday afternoon led Tommy and Buck up the loft steps and into bed. Gentle kisses, soft touches, quiet gasps, and lazy strokes left them feeling warm and cozy next to each other.

Thankful Tommy had the presence of mind to bring a towel to the bed in the first place, cleaning up was quick and easy. They were tangled into each other again quickly, with nothing but the sheets over their bodies.

Buck fell asleep first, his head on Tommy's chest, Tommy's hand running soothingly through his hair while the other rubbed up and down his back.

Tommy followed not long after, listening to Buck's relaxed breaths mixed with the rain pattering on the window.

Peaceful.

That's the exact opposite of how Tommy would describe the way he was woken up.

A shout of, “Oh my God!” jolted Tommy out of his sleep.

He looked over to see Buck slinging off his covers and running to his dresser to pull out a fresh pair of underwear.

“What's wrong?” Tommy asked, eyes darting around the room to check for a fire or intruder.

“I'm late!”

“Late?” Tommy was still half out of it, and very confused. “Late for what?”

Buck turned to him with wide eyes, hopping into his underwear. “Work!” Once he had his underwear on he leaned over the bed and grabbed his phone, showing Tommy the 6:43 on his lock screen. “I was supposed to be at work by six!” He glanced out the window, “And it's still raining! Great, it'll take even longer to get there now. I gotta call Bobby.”

“Ev, wait, just-”

“I can't wait, Tommy!”

As he called Bobby, Buck turned back to his dresser, tossing some clothes into his duffel that was lying on the floor.

Tommy picked up his own phone from the bedside table. “Evan,” he said calmly, “hang up, hun.”

“I'm not hang- Bobby! I am so sorry!”

“Buck?” Bobby answered, immediately concerned. “What're you sorry for? Something happen?”

“I overslept and my alarm didn't go off or I didn't hear it and Tommy usually wakes me up when I don't hear it, but he didn't hear it either and-” he was babbling. Babbling and babbling as he lifted his duffel and tried to zip it with one hand, tugging hard when the zipper wouldn't budge.

“Evan,” Tommy called from behind him, but Buck just waved him off.

He walked over to Tommy and dropped the bag over his lap, mouthing, “Zip this, please!”

“We had soup for lunch,” Buck continued to Bobby, and Tommy had to stop and listen to wherever the hell this was going. “We had soup and I know better than to have soup on a rainy day, that always makes me even more tired, and I was so warm, Cap. I know rainy days are busier than usual and I know you need me to be there and be on time. I am a little surprised no one tried calling me, but maybe that's all part of the lesson, ya know? Maybe-”

“Buck!” Bobby yelled from the other end of the line. “You're not late. In fact, you'd be alarmingly early if you came to work right now.”

Buck paused, stared in Tommy's direction. Tommy lifted his phone, a 18:45 on his lock screen. “I tried to tell you,” he said with a shrug.

“Oh. I- Bobby, I'm gonna go.”

He could hear Bobby laughing. Athena too. There was no way she hadn't heard his rant, even with him off speaker. “See ya tomorrow, Kid. Tell Tommy hi for us.”

Buck dropped his phone on the bed, his cheeks red, glaring at the smirk rising on Tommy's face. “I hate you,” he pouted.

“I keep telling you, Evan, this is why you need to switch your phone to military time.”

“Shut up.” Buck crawled back on the bed, dropping down beside Tommy, settling his hand over Tommy's chest. “I'm goin' back to sleep.”

Tommy put his own hand over Buck's, squeezing gently, “Want me to order dinner?”

“Mhm. Don't care what.”

“M'kay. Now, when there's a knock on the door and I wake you up, it'll probably be around seven thirty at night, not morning.”

When he got no verbal response, he figured Buck had already fallen asleep. He yelped extra loud when he received a surprise pinch to his nipple.

[leiawritesstories]

illicit affairs

credit to my bestie @rowanaelinn who gave me the prompt and encouraged this whole story ily bb 🫶

Word count: 3.3k (oops)

CW: swearing, alcohol, infidelity (cheating), smut. it's NSFW y'all, minors please stay away for your own sanity, it's...dirty dirty. i'm gonna go bleach my eyes now.

enjoy! (i hope...)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin didn’t know when the spark had gone out, only that it had. She woke up that July morning to an empty bed, an empty house, and her hopeful half-smile faltered and crumbled, all her illusions of the fairytale marriage she’d dreamed of since childhood splintering into dust and ashes.

She really should have been anticipating this day. It's not like anything about the situation was unexpected--it was so painfully obvious that Chaol wasn't interested in her anymore that they really should have just ended the marriage already. But both he and Aelin were stubborn-minded, unwilling to just let their marriage die when they could still look back on their honeymoon phase and see sparks of something that might be theirs again.

Chaol was Aelin's high school sweetheart; they'd met during their sophomore year, instantly hit it off, and had been inseparable ever since. They'd gone to university together, and he had proposed to her when they were only 19, just after freshman year. Not wanting to wait forever, they'd decided to get married when they were both 21--looking back, Aelin knew that had been their first mistake. They were so young, so full of hopes and dreams.

Real adult life wasn't yet reality to them.

And here they were now, at 24, married for three years and drifting apart for a year and a half. She'd noticed the shift in their marriage when Chaol got his first promotion at his job and started spending longer hours in the office, coming home later and later. Back then, he still came home to her, not to his work. He'd push open their front door, dump his laptop bag on the floor, and come to her. She'd smile and welcome him, kiss him, ask him how his day was and listen to his stories, always eager to help him destress however she could.

Not quite a month later, he stopped sharing every story from his work day. She didn't mind--didn't really notice. She was busy with her own graduate studies, which were getting more intense, and as much as she loved her husband and wanted to be there for him however she could, he had to reciprocate the feeling for anything to work. He started working even longer hours, claiming the new projects his bosses kept shoving onto his desk were eating his time.

She believed everything he said. Stupid, foolish, stupid Aelin.

Months passed, then a year. By then, Aelin was going to bed alone, leaving Chaol's dinner in the fridge or on the stove, not bothering to wait up for him when she didn't even know when he'd be home. Besides, with the thesis she was writing, she didn't have the time or the energy to devote to spectacular meals. She hardly even woke up when he finally slipped into bed beside her--when he still slept beside her.

It was only a month or two ago when the fragile peace they still maintained cracked. When Chaol came home early--for once!--and found her buried in her work, with books and documents spread across the table, her long-since-empty coffee cup abandoned beside her, typing furiously away on her thesis. When he called a hello that she didn't return, because she didn't hear him. He snapped at her that evening, said that he felt like he couldn't talk to her anymore.

He slept in the spare bedroom that night. And Aelin didn't even feel any difference--she was asleep as soon as she dragged herself into bed, worn out from the day, her work, and the argument.

~

The morning it all shattered, she woke up to a silent, empty bedroom. She'd grown used to the emptiness, the quietude of having her own room, but this was different. Silent. Too silent.

Yawning, she rolled herself out of bed, washed her face, and tucked her feet into her favorite beat-up old slippers before heading downstairs. "Chaol?"

No response.

Her forehead crinkled. "Chaol? You home?" she called, heading into the kitchen. Still nothing.

Not until she'd gone through the motions of making coffee did she realize that certain things were missing--his favorite coffee cup, namely. That was when it hit her. He was gone. Probably for good.

Aelin expected to feel shocked, numb, angry, empty--anything but what she felt. Instead, she just shrugged and poured her coffee. It was always going to happen, a little voice in the back of her mind whispered. You've known so for months.

Yeah, she had.

~

That night, Aelin came home from a rather tiring session with her advisor, left her backpack on the floor, and reached for her phone, tapping Lysandra's contact.

<<bitch, get ready, we're going out

>>when?

<<now. soon. as soon as we're ready.

>>meet you at stag's? with shots ofc

<<you're the best, babes

Aelin showered quickly, dried off, and put on her little gold dress, the metallic material still molding to her body as perfectly as it had the first time she'd tried it on. She'd been shopping with Lys and Elide, who'd all but ordered her to get the dress, thinking it might lead to a night of fun with her husband.

Chaol hadn't even seen the dress. And, Aelin realized, giving herself a once-over in the mirror, he didn't deserve to.

She did her makeup heavier than usual, lining her eyes in bold, sharp flicks of liquid black and dusting her eyelids with gold. She painted her lips crimson, holding them apart for a few minutes to let the lipstick dry so it would be smudge-proof. When she looked in the mirror for one last check, she was caught off-guard. She looked...different.

She looked alive.

She looked fucking hot, and she was ready to go meet her best friend at their favorite club and forget her failed marriage.

The last thing Aelin did before leaving the house was tug her wedding ring off her finger and drop it into the shallow jewelry dish atop her dresser. She'd stopped wearing it in public months ago--if Chaol was going to act like they weren't married, then why should she keep up the farce? She kept it on at home, though, still clinging to the last threads of their union.

No longer.

~

Lysandra whistled when she saw Aelin. "Hot damn, girl!"

"Stop," Aelin laughed, stiletto heels clicking as she headed across to Lysandra's seat. Four shot glasses were ready and waiting, two of them filled with clear liquid and the other two with something colorful and sweet-smelling.

Lys wiggled her perfectly threaded eyebrows. "Someone's gonna catch a man tonight, hmm?"

Aelin winked. "That's the idea." She picked up one of the shots. "Cheers, bitch!" Tapping her glass against Lys's, she downed the shot. Then the next. With the alcohol warming her blood, she glanced over to the dance floor, her foot tapping along to the music.

Lys grinned like the wickedly clever woman she was. "C'mon, bitch, we're dancing!"

Aelin swept her gaze across the crowded floor, searching. "Lys, babes, I don't see anyone worth--" Her sentence cut off as her best friend all but dragged her out among the dancers.

"Just enjoy yourself!" the brunette yelled, tipping her head back and grinning.

Quickly, Aelin list herself in the thumping bass, the pounding melody, the near-indecent rhythm of the dancing. She'd only been dancing for a few minutes when she felt someone's hands slip around her waist and tug her back against a chiseled, decidedly male body. And gods fucking burn her, his body felt divine against hers, moving in perfect sync with her and the music, coaxing her hips to slide against his. She wound one arm up behind his neck, sliding her manicured nails into his cropped, silky hair, and leaned in closer, catching the scent of pine forests and icy mountain breezes.

"What's your name, gorgeous?" he purred into her ear, his breath fanning against her skin.

Smoothly, she spun to face him, which conveniently aligned her breasts with his chest. Fuck, he was gorgeous--at least six foot four, chiseled muscles, a tattoo snaking up the length of his left arm and flicking onto his cheekbone. Eyes the color of the Oakwald Forest captured hers, smoky promise burning in their depths.

"Don't make me ask again, princess," he warned, the hint of command in his tone sending fire racing down her spine.

She hooded her eyes. "Aelin."

"Aelin," he repeated, rolling her name like fine wine on his tongue.

She wouldn't mind that tone rolling in other places, hell no she would not.

"What's your name," she asked in return, letting the pause drag on before she added, "sir?"

He sucked in a sharp breath, and she could have sworn his hands slipped closer to the hem of that little golden dress. "Since you asked so nicely, I'm Rowan." His lips brushed the side of her neck, a bare hint of a touch. "But you can call me sir," he murmured, splaying one broad hand against the bare skin of her back, exposed by the cut of her dress.

Burning hell.

"Rowan," she whispered, her voice dropping to a throaty purr, turning the two syllables into something borderline explicit.

His hands flexed against her skin, pulling her even closer, fingertips brushing her thigh--just under the hem of her dress. "You're going to keep quiet for me, princess." Not a request, an order. An order that sent sparks dancing through her blood. That damn hand inched farther up her skirt. "Answer me."

"Yes, sir," she breathed, eyes fluttering closed in anticipation.

His smug, dark little chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "Remember, princess, we're on a public dancefloor. Nobody gets to know that you're--fuck--soaking wet for me." He'd found her lacy little scrap of underwear, which was indeed soaked with arousal.

"Yes sir." Her vocabulary was apparently reduced to those words.

Rowan kissed her neck, a teasingly light peck of his lips. "Good girl." The endearment sent a new rush of arousal pooling between her thighs--which, of course, he felt. His smug smirk only grew. "Turn around, princess, keep grinding on me. I know how wet it made you." Keeping that hand under her skirt, he spun her around, splaying his free one across her stomach, pinning her in place.

She sucked back a gasp at the power of the maneuver, forcing her legs to stay strong, not to waver and collapse like they wanted to. "Sir," she breathed, body a little tense with the waiting.

He kissed the side of her neck. "Relax, princess. Dance for me." He guided her into motion, swaying with the pulsing thump of the music blaring all around them. She closed her eyes, letting the rhythm take over, leading her body. "Good girl," Rowan whispered into her ear.

As a reward, his finger dragged up the seam of her panties, landing squarely on her needy clit. Her mouth dropped open, head falling back against his shoulder, hips rocking against the pressure of his hand.

Though she couldn't see his face, she knew full well that smug male smirk of his was firmly in place. "Look at you all dripping wet for a stranger, and I've barely even touched you." Shoving her panties aside, he teased her sex for a few seconds before sliding one thick finger into her, pulling a faint moan from her throat. He clicked his tongue. "Uh-uh, princess. Quiet."

She pressed her lips together, forcing the sounds she wanted to make to be silent. "Please," she breathed, her dancing smoothly slipping into time with the pumping of his fingers.

He chuckled darkly. "Such pretty manners." Another finger slid in beside the first, those two fingers stretching her more, filling her deeper than Chaol ever had. She banished the stray thought--no need to think about him when this moment was already so good. Rowan's hand sped up, working her higher, keeping her moving so nobody around them would be able to tell he had his fingers buried into her in the middle of the very public dancefloor.

Aelin felt herself getting closer, blood singing with the pleasure shooting through her veins. Subconsciously, she gripped Rowan's forearm, sweat beading on her forehead from the effort of keeping quiet. "Please, sir," she begged, practically thrusting herself onto his hand. "So close, please--oh!" A moan tore out of her as he crooked his fingers, brushing that sensitive ridge inside of her.

In a heartbeat, his fingers were gone, and she'd spun around to face him again, meeting the darkness in his gaze. He shook his head, laughing smokily at the shock and arousal mingled on her face. "You disobeyed, princess."

"I--"

"I told you to keep quiet." He caressed the curve of her ass, the gold material of her dress molding to her like a second skin. "What happens when you disobey, princess?"

Aelin's breath shuddered out in a long gasp, all coherent speech failing her.

Rowan's lips quirked up. "Open your mouth." She did. He placed his fingers at her lips. "Taste yourself, princess." Not really waiting for her to move, he slid his fingers into her mouth. She wrapped her crimson-stained lips around his fingers, tongue flicking around the digits in a way that could only be described as explicit.

He chuckled, knowing she'd behave. "That's right, princess, be a good girl and clean me up." When he'd all but choked her with his fingers for long enough, he withdrew, sinful promise lighting his eyes. "Can you stay quiet for me now?" She nodded. "Words, princess."

"Yes, sir," she whispered, clenching her thighs together.

He tracked the movement. "Mmm, perhaps we should take this somewhere else." A soft, teasing kiss against her pulse point. "I don't think the whole club should see your pretty little cunt, hmm?"

Aelin could barely think through the heady rush of arousal that washed over her senses at Rowan's filthy words. In a single blurred moment, they were in the club's bathroom, the door locked behind them, and he'd lifted her onto the countertop. She loosed a little squeak at the unexpected cold of the marble, the sound rapidly turning into a groan as he shoved her skirt up around her waist, exposing the completely soaked scrap of black lace she called panties.

"I don't think we need these anymore," he hummed, yanking the lace off of her. And burying his face in her sex.

Aelin moaned deeply, gripping the edge of the countertop to keep herself upright. "Fuck!"

Rowan pulled away, making a tsking sound. "What did I tell you, princess?"

"I--quiet, sir," she panted, just about ready to beg for his touch.

"Seems you need a little help with that." Rising, he stuffed her panties into her mouth, the essence of her arousal exploding on her tongue. "Now hold. Fucking. Still."

She didn't even have time to nod before his tongue was back in her sex, licking a long, rough line up her folds. She arched into his touch, gasping at the way he grasped her hips, both to support her and to angle her better for the devouring. His tongue--gods, she'd never felt the way he made her feel. He alternated long, rough strokes with teasing little flicks, plunging his tongue into her sex and then flicking it around her clit, keeping her just teetering on the edge of orgasm.

Desperate, she gripped the countertop harder, using all of her might not to scream as Rowan raised his eyes to hers, unchecked hunger in their depths, and sucked her clit into his mouth. The scrape of his teeth was enough to set her off--but she held on, knowing that he'd punish her if she came without his command.

"Good fucking girl," he groaned into her sex. "Come for me, princess."

She didn't need encouragement--the way he nibbled at her throbbing clit was more than enough to send her into orgasm, her body shuddering with the force of her climax. He latched his mouth onto her and lapped up everything she gave him, letting out a moan himself at the taste of her, thick and sweet on his tongue.

"So fucking gorgeous when you come," he groaned, lifting himself up to pull her panties out and claim her lips, his kiss just as dominating as the rest of him. He swept his tongue through her mouth, angling her head to meet his.

Aelin groaned into his kiss, her body already throbbing with need for him again. "Please," she panted, grasping his shoulders to keep herself stable. "Please, sir."

"Please what?" he asked, knowing full well what she wanted but needing to hear her beg.

Her chest heaved. "Please fuck me, sir, I need you."

"Good girl." He kissed her again, all tongue and dominance. "Spread your legs for me, princess."

She did.

Slotting his hips between her legs, Rowan shoved his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, smirking at the way Aelin's bright eyes widened at the sight of him. "Think you can stay quiet now, princess?"

"I might need a little instruction, sir," she purred, lowering her lashes and peeking up at him. Fuck, she was impossible.

"If you say so," he smirked, pumping himself a few times. "Hold still, princess." She nodded, and he moved forward, pushing into her. Fucking hell, she was perfect. Tight and warm around him, her walls squeezing his cock. "Loosen up, princess," he whispered, stroking her clit to help her ease up. Her jaw fell open as he shoved the rest of the way in, grunting.

"Sir," she groaned, gripping his shoulders, her lovely face screwing up with pleasure.

"Quiet, princess," he warned, practically shaking with the effort of not slamming into her until she couldn't even think. She panted, hips rocking just enough to let him know how much she needed him. "Want me to move?"

"Please," she whispered.

"Good girl." He pulled back and slammed back in, setting a near-frantic, heavy pace. She moaned, unable to keep the sound back, and he clicked his tongue, sliding one hand up her body. "Tap my thigh twice if it's too much, okay?" She nodded. He kissed her hard, swallowing her groan, and wrapped his hand around her throat, keeping his grip light.

Aelin felt fire racing through her nerves at the pressure of Rowan's hand around her throat. She gripped his shoulders tighter and matched the frenetic pace of his thrusts, leaning into his grip enough that he tightened his hold, hand flexing against her throat, muttering filthy promises and praises into her ear. So quickly, she felt herself hurtling toward climax, and if the way his hips stuttered was any indication, he was close as well.

"Come for me, princess," he commanded, squeezing her throat in time with the way his hips pounded into hers, his cock deeper in her than anything she'd ever felt.

She exploded, mouth open in a silent scream as she came around his dick. He groaned her name into her neck, his control snapping as he spilled into her.

Slowly, they both came down, Rowan removing his hand from Aelin's neck and stroking her back as he pulled out. He reached for some paper towels, wet them, and carefully cleaned her up--an oddly gentle contrast to the domineering man who'd fingered her in the middle of the club dancefloor and then fucked her into oblivion in the bathroom.

Not until her dress was back in place and she was strolling onto the dancefloor--albeit a little shakily--did the realization of what she'd just done hit Aelin. Swiftly, she dropped Rowan's hand and ran, weaving through the throngs of dancing bodies until she was out of the club, out in the bracing cool of the night air.

That night, Aelin Galathynius cheated on her husband with a man she’d just met.

And gods burn her, it was the most alive she’d ever felt.

What the fuck had she just done?

~~~

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