#bookersebastien

[cherubinas]

the only reason to remake the loft again is luca and luca only

i need the italian remake, i'm collecting the old guard men playing the same character in different versions of the same movie like pokemon cards

[elizabeth-mitchells]

13 & 25 for the book asks!

thank youuu <33

13. What were your least favorite books of the year?

already answered! basically how to sell and haunted house and astrid parker doesn't fail

25. What reading goals do you have for next year?

well this year i reached my goal of 25 books easily. so i'm thinking i might try to go for 30 books next years. as for which books. this year i had the goal of reading all the novels from my favorite writer and i succeeded! (i might go for other of her publications next years) and i think i might try books that aren't my usual, more short stories compilations, maybe nonfiction. oh i just got so many ideas to make my goals more specific lmao

end-of-year book ask

[katesbridgerton]

when u get this u have to put 5 songs 🎵 u actually listen to, publicly. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers ✨💟 :D

supeeeer late, my friend, but let's go 🎵:

segundos platos by morat

shakira: bzrp music sessions, vol. 53 (reina 👑)

506 by morat

básicamente by sebastián yatra

+ (más) by aitana, cali y el dandee

[ndcgalitzine]

I want to spread some positivity so what are the blogs that bring you joy here 💖💖

@alexnry @alexshenry @almightaylor @baynamp3 @bigassbowlingballhead @billyharris @blueeyedgrlwrites @bookersebastien @boysbeloving @brighellamagellan @brucewayneissexy (my 'oldest' mutual, 12 years and counting 💖) @celticjade13 @cha-melodius @damnabledimples @discluded @energievie @exsequar @fircyca @firstprinced @firstprincemybeloveds @fraudulentzodiac @fullerthanskippy @glitzine @henrysfox @jack-and-ianto-hiddleston @katesbridgerton @lazynbored @lightninghitsground @little-ruru @mcbscientist @missrambler @moonpiegirls @mylucayathoughts @myteavsricochet @noahreids @playingcardjoker @raedear @sal-si-puedes @scimitar-and-longsword @sebastienlelivre @sharkinlovewithadolphin @softboynick @softestark @solaradastra @sorelh @spacewitchqueen @stannyramirez @taste-thewaste @theanity @violeblanche

[eternalporcelaindoll]

After probably around 13 years it's time for a change. Had this name for a sideblog I don't use anymore and considering how much my content has changed and my current obsession with IWTV I had to make this change. Also because this name was inspired by vampires and especially Claudia. So it fits.

Still following #shinylightblue for now. But also #eternalporcelaindoll.

Tagging some mutuals under the cut:

@anyonebutromeo @eddiediaaz @ughmerlin @strwrs @sidprescot @keepyourlife @bbrucewayne @alkaysani @sarahmichellesgellar @tenrose @cal-kestis @startreklesbian @kendalroys @sluttyhenley @tesb @anakinnaberrie @pedro-pascal @moonlightperseus @lukeskywalking @bucktommmy @scimitar-and-longsword @cilly-murphy @youssefguedira @treeborgs @jackswolfe @habibialkaysani @lazynbored @rowdilya @hawkaye @siobhans-roy @nataliescatorccio @caroldanver @nilefreemans @bookersebastien @wernerherzogs @hazelnut-rosewater-pomegranate @lesbinewren @velummortis @crayolasaurus

[alkaysani]

this was too good to not do, so here's a new handle. still tracking #usernicolo. feel free to tag me in: the old guard, 9-1-1 og/ls, rwrb, good omens, merlin, and anything else you think i might enjoy

tagging some mutuals:

@nilefreemans @gaal-dornick @linaxart @bookersebastien @katesbridgerton @jamiettart @eddiediaaz @oliverstaark @tawaifeddiediaz @oneawkwardcookie @djdangerlove @moonlightbuckleys @lucydonato @captain-hen @bieddiediaz @therapizededdie

[moonlightperseus]

srb for tags

@scattered-winter (a 100 thank yous and forehead kisses for peer reviewing this for me btw) @bookersebastien @katesbridgerton @nilefreemans

breathe in the feeling

ambiguously set after the first half of s7 | 867 words

Being in love with Buck wasn’t an option.

It can’t be an option.

Because if it was, Eddie might do something stupid, like kiss his best friend.

Which is—not an option.

Eddie’s done that song and dance before, and that ended badly—leaving and being left, divorce papers, blood on hot asphalt.

But the thing is, Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. It’s been over a month since Buck came out to him, and Eddie can’t stop thinking about how Buck is an option now.

Which isn’t even entirely true, because Buck is with Tommy—Buck is happy with Tommy—and Eddie feels like his entire world is collapsing in on itself.

He broke up with Marisol last week, something that up until this moment, he hadn’t told anyone, not even Christopher—which he knows he can only avoid for so long.

He’s not even sure why he’s telling Bobby, because now Bobby is staring at him quizzically and Eddie is feeling closer to a panic attack than he’s been in a long time.

“You broke up with Marisol,” Bobby repeats back to him, because he’s been waiting for Eddie to continue and Eddie has made a point out of staring at his hands and not saying anything as his brain spirals. “Do you want to talk about that?”

“No,” Eddie says, because he really doesn’t—but he sucks in a sharp breath and rips the band-aid off anyways, “I think I might be in love with Buck.”

Bobby doesn’t say anything for what feels like an eternity.

Eddie finally gives in and looks at him, Bobby’s face is a carefully crafted blank expression—he’s processing the information Eddie has given him, but he’s not going to give any reaction in the meantime.

Eddie resists dropping his head against the table and instead settles for staring at the dormant alarm bell on the wall and hoping for it to start ringing to save him from this situation.

“I see,” Bobby says finally, “that’s… that must be a lot for you to process.”

“Understatement of the century,” Eddie mumbles, allowing himself to drop his head into his hands—it’s not quite as satisfying as the thunk of his forehead against the table would be.

“So how long have you been… processing this?”

“I don’t know, a couple weeks, maybe—” —my whole life, possibly, he doesn’t say.

A hand lands on his shoulder, the touch is gentle and grounding, and Eddie is reminded of why he went to Bobby in the first place.

“Eddie,” Bobby says carefully, “there’s nothing wrong with it—being in love with Buck. If that is how you feel, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Eddie exhales slowly, because that’s the whole thing, isn’t it? “I know that—logically, I know that. I’ve never had a problem with—I guess it’s different, when it’s yourself. But it’s not like it’s even—I mean, Buck’s with Tommy—Buck’s happy with Tommy—and Tommy’s my friend too, so it is kind of wrong, in a way.” 

“Buck being in a relationship with someone else doesn’t make your feelings for him invalid—or wrong. Sure, maybe it’s a little complicated since you consider them both friends. But whatever you’re feeling—you’re allowed to feel it.” 

“But what am I supposed to do with it?” Eddie finally meets Bobby’s gaze, “I mean—I feel like I’m lying to Buck, somehow, by feeling this way—by not saying anything.”

“Maybe you don’t have to do anything with it, at least—not right away,” Bobby squeezes his shoulder before removing his hand, “maybe right now you just let yourself feel it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be honest with Buck, but I think maybe you should start by allowing yourself to be honest with you.” 

Eddie stares at Bobby, completely and painfully aware of his own heart beating in his chest, it’s not a panic attack, but he knows it’s a warning sign. 

He takes a moment to breathe slowly, the way Frank taught him. Bobby says nothing, waiting patiently 

“I don’t know what that looks like.” Eddie says honestly. 

Bobby offers him a kind smile, “That’s okay, you don’t have to have it all figured out, but maybe allow yourself the time to really think about it?”

“What if I lose him?” The words spill out of him unbidden. 

“Eddie, if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that you and Buck have a way of finding each other, no matter the circumstance, the two of you will always fight to find each other again.” 

Eddie blinks, and for a moment, all he sees is Buck, covered in Eddie’s own blood, begging for him to hold on. 

He blinks again, and the memory fades, and it’s just Bobby sitting there in front of him, watching him carefully.

“Let yourself feel it, Eddie,” Bobby says gently, “and when you’re ready—talk to Buck.”

The bell rings then, because timing never seems to be on Eddie’s side. 

Bobby sighs softly, “well, duty calls.”

Bobby stands to head towards the engine bay, but before Eddie can do the same, Bobby rests a hand on his shoulder again, “I’m really proud of you, Eddie.”

He lets the words settle over him for a moment—breathing slowly in and out—and then follows after his Captain. 

[nickydestati]

when u get this u have to put 5 songs 🎵 u actually listen to, publicly. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers ✨💟 :D

Gabby!!! 💖💖 this is so nice, thank you for this!! 😊

1. Elddansurin by Heilung (and literally all of their music, especially the new songs!)

2. Ötzi by Prima Nocta

3. Captain Cray by Pyrolysis

4. I Dream of You by Ye Banished Privateers

5. I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance from Carrie the Musical

[reginamillls]

4. Soulmates. Black and White. Kaysanova

did you say AU? because you’re getting an AU

Seeing the world in monochrome shades wasn’t a burden, not for Nicky. He didn’t have colors to distract him from anything, so Nicky focused on his work and that was enough for him. 

Nicky ignored the lonely feeling always sitting at the edge of his emotions and the longing he had to share anything of himself with another.

He was tired of being alone. 

Nicky could push it back though, he could put on the mask of being content and he would look away when other people’s happiness would be too much. 

So he lives in a world of black and white.

Nicky is at work when his world explodes with colors that he never dreamed he would ever be lucky enough to see. 

There’s a fire at a local school and Nicky is one of the first people on the scene, arriving after the firefighters. It’s a minor fire, a malfunction of the old kiln in the art department. No one had been seriously hurt, but Nicky was still there to provide any minor first aid and to make sure the people that needed to get additional medical attention would. 

The kids are younger, so their tears fall freely from their faces, they’re open with their fears in a way that no adult could ever be, and Nicky is patient with them. He has a stuffed dog in his truck, a small dalmation, black and white so he never has to imagine what colors they could be, and he would give them to anyone who found that they just needed to squeeze something soft. 

Nicky talked through the dog, asking after injuries with a goofy voice that drew laughter from tears. The last child he was with, a little boy who had scraped his knee when he had been tripped in the chaos of the fire, was finally calm enough to accept Nicky’s bandages and Nicky was seeing him off, waving his stuffed dog’s arm and telling him to be safe with Dr. Spot’s voice. 

"Does Dr. Spot have time to see another patient?” A voice asks and Nicky turns to see an attractive man with an amused smile. “I think I might have sprained something.” 

“Oh of course,” Nicky says in Dr. Spot’s voice, then winces as he clears his throat, a blush blossoming over his face, then continues in his own accented voice. “I can take a look at your wrist.” 

“I’d appreciate it.” The man sits down, on the edge of Nicky’s truck, and holds out his arm gently. Nicky takes it, his own gloved hands slowly turning the offered hand, apologizing when the man winces in pain. It was a mild strain, nothing too bad as long as the other man kept it easy, and Nicky told him so. 

“I was worried I’d have to take some time off,” The man says as he watches Nicky wrap his wrist gently with dark eyes that Nicky was trying hard not to stare at. His smile was bright as he told Nicky about the events that had transpired at the school. The man was the art teacher and had been the first to the scene, leading his students out of the room. He had hurt his wrist when they had run into a student who had slammed the door open on his unsuspecting arm. 

“You’re all set,” Nicky says, smiling. Normally he wasn’t one to talk to his adult patients, preferring to leave the ones that liked to talk to his partner Lykon, but the art teacher was a calming presence, and Nicky had fallen into the conversation easily. “I would check back in with your doctor if you have any additional problems.”

“Thank you, Dr. Spot,” The man picks up the stuffed dalmatian, shaking its paw with a serious expression. “You saved an artist’s hand, their most important tool, you're a hero.” 

“Can’t have the children go without their teacher,” Nicky says in Dr. Spot’s voice, and then after a beat the two of them burst into laughter, the art teacher bending forward as Nicky throws his head back. It’s completely ridiculous and normally Nicky would be embarrassed but it just felt so good to laugh. For a moment he forgot his loneliness. 

“I’m Joe by the way,” The man offers, extending his uninjured hand. Nicky’s so caught up in the moment that he forgets his usual rule of not having skin to skin contact with a patient and takes off his gloves to shake the other man’s hand in one fluid moment. 

Their fingers meet and Nicky gasps, tightening his grip as his vision goes from black and white to a world of colors. 

They’re beautiful. 

Nick looks down at Joe, their hands still intertwined, and watches as the man takes in his own now colorful world, his smile blinding as tears well up in his eyes. 

Joe is beautiful, Nicky thinks, the colors he can see for the first time seem pale in comparison to Joe’s unabashed joy. 

[rafael-silva]

38. Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt - bc this is def something joe and nicky do

thank you! and they absolutely do! 

joenicky + #38. letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt | from this prompt list

FLUFF, domestic fluff, domesticity, softness, comfort, seriously there’s so much fluff

It’s been a rough winter. Turning on his side and looking out of their balcony window, Joe’s eyes scan an endless horizon covered in snow, sun hooded by clouds in the sky. He catches glimpses of his reflection staring back at him, his bedridden hair and thick beard.

Nicky had left twenty minutes ago to get some groceries for dinner. He got dressed while watching Joe stretch out in bed, having just woken up from a nap, the heated room allowing him to be in just a soft cotton t-shirt and boxers. He smiled sleepily at Nicky, stretching out some more and stifling a yawn. Joe’s smile widened when he noticed that Nicky was holding a scarf that Joe had gifted him recently. A soft, green cashmere scarf he found while buying some supplies for their last mission. He says it brings out the color in Nicky’s eyes. Eyes Joe would happily stare into for the rest of his life.

Nicky looked up from where he was tying his shoe laces and the way Joe’s eyes crinkle as he smiled at him? Nicky feels his own smile spread in reciprocation. And that silver sparkle dancing around his husband’s eyes? Yeah, Nicky could easily sing his own poetry about how even after centuries together, it makes his heart leap around his chest. At times, Nicky stops, looks at Joe in wonder, his thought: this man is mine.

Joe offered to go with Nicky to the store two blocks down the road, but Nicky had shaken his head, grabbing a coat, which Joe suspects belongs to him (Nicky always did prefer wearing Joe’s clothes), his gloves and walks around to the empty side of their bed. Joe feels the soft mattress dip with Nicky’s weight, his body swaying a little, still heavy with sleep. His love balances himself on one knee and closes the gap between them with a tender kiss.

“Stay. Keep the bed warm for me,” Nicky had mumbled against Joe’s lips. “I won’t be long.”

Joe smiled against Nicky’s mouth and gave him another kiss. A silent promise.

Nicky turns on his heels and makes his way towards the door, only turning to give Joe one last smile over his shoulder and leaves.

And now, watching the scenery outside, a smile tugs on Joe’s face at the memory. He feels sleep pull at him from all edges and decides to go with it. With a palm laid on Nicky’s pillow that smells like him, he drifts off, engulfed in the warm and comforting scent that belongs to the owner of his heart.

Nicky returns to find Joe asleep, and in that moment, wishes he were the artist so he could sketch this perfect scene. Instead, he pauses in his tracks, a recyclable bag in each hand filled with dinner necessities, and his eyes capture the view like a camera shutter. He tucks it into his mind, along with decades and decades worth of memories with this beautiful man.

He moves around the studio as quietly as possible, storing everything where it belongs, in cupboards and in the fridge. With a peek at the clock hanging on the red brick wall, he decides they still have some time before they start on dinner. He moves further down the kitchen counter to where the coffee pot sits empty and cold, he pulls out Joe’s favorite coffee brand, his own favorite tea and gets to work, knowing Joe will want some caffeine intake once he’s awake and Nicky could use a good, warm cup of tea himself.

Nicky turns around just as he hears his name called from behind. Although it’s more of a whisper rather than a call.

“Nicolo.”

Nicky always found Joe’s deep, sleep-laced voice attractive.

He turns to find Joe squinting at him and quite honestly, looking absolutely adorable.

“Ciao, amore mio,” Nicky replies. Hello, my love. “I see you have, indeed, kept the bed warm for me,” he smirks.

“Warmer with you here,” Joe half says, half mumbles, clearly still working on fully waking up. He reaches out his arm towards Nicky, barely harnessing enough energy as it hangs in the air for a few seconds before falling down next to his body, a gesture that spells out come here, I’ve missed you. “Nico.”

Nicky chuckles. It was always intriguing watching the process of Joe waking up. “Sono qui.” I’m here. He kicks off his shoes and does as he promised, sliding into bed and immediately gravitates towards his husband.

Joe wastes no time in tucking his face into the crook of Nicky’s neck, inhaling the sweet scent he knows by heart and soul, the scent that is all Nicolo and lets out a content sigh. In return, Nicky wraps a hand around Joe’s shoulder and draws him in close.

“Hi habibi,” Joe whispers, his eyes closed. My love.

Nicky replies with a kiss planted on the top of Joe’s head. He closes his eyes, savoring this moment, as he held Joe, both of them breathing in sync. Hearts beating as one.

Nicky begins running his hand up and down Joe’s arm, hand colliding with bare skin, a movement he knows relaxes his partner.

“Your hand is cold,” Joe mutters.

“Hm?”

Joe opens one eye and looks up at Nicky. “Your hand is cold,” he repeats. “Were you wearing your gloves, amore mio?”

“Si,” Nicky nods. “It’s really cold outside. I don’t think they helped much.”

“Hmm,” Joe studies Nicky’s face for a moment. “Come here.”

A weird shuffling happens as Joe rearranges them on the bed, limbs moving all over the place until he’s satisfied. With his own hand, Joe takes Nicky’s cold ones and slips them underneath his own shirt, the sudden press of Nicky’s icy fingers to his hot skin prompts a little escaped hiss from him.

Nicky moves to pull back—there are other ways to heat his hands, he doesn’t need to freeze his husband in the process—but Joe’s hold on his arms stops him.

“It’s okay, Nico, it’s already passed,” Joe reassures him. “And your hands are already getting warmer.”

Nicky does feel that, and with Joe’s words, relaxes as he feels the coldness seep out of his skin.

It’s always been like this, whether it’s summer or winter, Joe runs hot, while Nicky runs slightly cooler.

Nicky slowly starts tracing Joe’s skin with warming fingertips, in a way he knows tickles the other man. And true to that, Joe’s squirming in a matter of seconds and a couple of honest to God giggles escape him before transforming into deep, hearty laughs.

“Is this what I get for wanting you to be warm?” Joe teases around a chuckle.

“I love hearing your laugh, habib albi,” Nicky replies. My heart’s love.

“And I,” Joe presses a kiss to Nicky’s lips, “love you.”

Nicky gazes into Joe’s brown irises, getting lost in the depth, beauty and sincerity looking back at him. It takes his breath away. “I love you, Yusuf.”

With another smile and a soft kiss, Joe pulls back. “I smell coffee.”

Nicky nods and moves his eyes over to the counter where the coffee is ready, the pot filled and steaming.

Joe follows Nicky’s movement. “Did I tell you how much I love you?” He happily sighs, leaning back against the pillow and taking Nicky with him.

Nicky snickers, easily going with Joe and rests his head on Joe’s chest. “You can always tell me again.”

Joe’s reply is cut off and turns into another laugh as Nicky once again tickles him. His hands are warm now, but he keeps them plastered to Joe’s skin.

“The coffee is getting cold,” Joe says once he manages to take in a deep breath after a few more deep laughs.

Nicky moves his head and presses a gentle kiss to Joe’s neck. “I worked way too hard to let that coffee pot go cold.”

Joe playfully rolls his eyes at his husband. “I would hate for your hard work to go to waste. Come on, amore. You could use a cup of tea, too.”

[wordsofwarning]

'cause I don't think it's an accident that tears are shaped like seeds

[katesbridgerton]

tagged by @lesbiandiaz to do this picrew. thank you for tagging me jess ✨

tagging: @hiraeth-doux @bookersebastien @nxvermore @lassoposting @cherubinas

[ndcgalitzine]

phakphumm -> dcctordonna

ALONA'S URL CHANGE 💫

I know I was going to wait until the new years, once I've finished MA2023, but I just finished the last episode of Doctor Who and I AM FEELING THINGS 😭😍

I never know if I should tag mutuals under the cut, but I know I'd want to know if my mutuals change their url's so 😊

@solaradastra @sharkinlovewithadolphin @exsequar @bookersebastien @damnabledimples @theanity @sal-si-puedes @celticjade13 @spacewitchqueen @caroldanver @softestark @playingcardjoker @littlerosetrove @sebastienlelivre @ajcrowleys @raedear @brighellamagellan @krystalsgotrich @coileoniamoremi @nattaphum @rainbowcolored7 @barbiegirlinacrazyworld @everyforkedroad @boysbeloving @vintagejacqui @mirrorofprinces @sorelh @elnotwoods @discluded @iffervescent @ohyesididnotjustdothat @firstprincemybeloveds @bookstvandfanfic

[nicolos]

hi friend! berlin, barcelona, and helsinki

TYSM Gabby!!!!!!

berlin: do you find history or geography to be more interesting?

Okay so!! I've always preferred history to geography until really recently, and I don't think that's changed, but as of last year when I for some reason (???) really got into maps and mapmaking, I've also started to appreciate the impact of geography on history!!! Like the way they intertwine. And in some ways geography also speaks of history? So like, still history, but with a growing appreciation for geography!!!!

barcelona: beaches or cities?

Cities probably... I don't know, maybe just because cities offer so much more to do than beaches. But! I DO miss beaches. Up until a few years ago I visited the beach several times every year, and now I haven't seen the sea in five years... missing her 😔✊

helsinki: when did you last visit a friend’s house?

Oh my god um. Probably... November or December 2019? LMAO I have been nowhere in the past year and a half huh

[alkaysani]

the timing never makes sense with 9-1-1 starting soon, but i miss this handle. still tracking #usernicolo

please continue to tag me on:

the old guard

anything related to tog cast

9-1-1

anything related to 9-1-1 cast

merlin

i will continue to tag spoilers for both tog and 9-1-1, and will still be in semi hiatus. i only come back for anything @911bts so at this point i might as well not be on hiatus

tagging some mutuals: @gaal-dornick @nilefreemans @laviejaguardia @cherubinas @latinamericane @oneawkwardcookie @bookersebastien @djdangerlove @eddiediaaz @zerokinkade @tawaifeddiediaz @jdeanmorgan

[moonlightperseus]

7. Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise for tog, your choice of relationship

“You’re injured,” Quỳnh’s words were barely above a whisper as she stared at Andy.

This wasn’t the reunion Andy had wanted, nor the one she had even expected, but beggars cannot be choosers, and Andy had certainly begged for this.

Their attackers- an unlucky group who had thought the two women to be easy targets- were gone now, they were left alone again, staring at the other without speaking.

Fighting side by side with Quỳnh had been like coming home, they moved together with such fluidity, it felt as though they had never been apart- but they had, for five hundred years, and a lot had changed since they last fought side by side.

The nasty bruise forming on Andy’s shoulder was proof of that. Quỳnh’s eyes were locked on it, and Andy wished she had been wearing something other than a sleeveless tank-top.

“It’s just a bruise-” Andy tried, but Quỳnh moved closer towards her, and all the words she wanted to say died in her throat.

Quỳnh reached out but didn’t touch Andy, her hand hovering inches above the spot on Andy’s shoulder, “How long?”

Andy stared wordlessly at the other woman, her breath hitching slightly when Quỳnh raised her eyes to meet her gaze.

“How long, Andromache?”

Andy’s shoulders sagged under the weight of Quỳnh’s gaze, she ignored the pain in her bruised shoulder that came with the movement, “Six months.”

“You could’ve died,” Quỳnh was quiet again, her eyes dropping away from Andy’s.

Andy frowned, “They barely landed the one hit-”

“Not from them,” Quỳnh hissed, cutting Andy off.

She gave Andy a sharp look and Andy’s heart sunk, the realization of what Quỳnh had meant hitting her before the actual words came.

“I could've killed you,” Quỳnh whispered, her gaze dropping again to Andy’s shoulder, “if we hadn’t been interrupted- if I hadn’t seen-” her fingertips brushed against Andy’s shoulder, causing a shiver to run down Andy’s spine- “I wanted to-”

“But you didn’t,” Andy said, surprised to find her voice working- her brain had all but shut down upon Quỳnh’s skin brushing hers, “and if you had, it would’ve been well deserved.”

Quỳnh was silent, her eyes tracking the movement of her own hand as she continued to trace her fingertips across Andy’s shoulder.

Andy closed her eyes, resisting the urge to lean into Quỳnh’s touch, it had been so long since she had last felt Quỳnh’s  skin against her own, and the ghost-like touch left her craving more.

“I think,” Andy whispered, her eyes still closed, “if my last death were to come at your hand, it would be a mercy-” she forced her eyes open, looking at Quỳnh, who had gone still at Andy’s words- “for you, I would die a thousand deaths, and for you, I would happily die my last.”

Quỳnh moved so quickly that Andy hardly registered the movement until Quỳnh’s lips were pressed against her own.

Fighting beside Quỳnh again had been like coming home, but kissing Quỳnh again- there were no words to describe just how right it felt. All Andy could do was relax into it, letting her hands find their place on Quỳnh’s hips, holding her close with a firm but gentle touch.

When they finally broke apart, needing to regain their breath, Quỳnh leaned her head down just over Andy’s shoulder- close, but not touching. Andy subconsciously followed the movement, her nose brushing against the top of Quỳnh’s hair.

“I think-” Quỳnh paused to press an ever so delicate kiss to the bruised spot on Andy’s shoulder- “I would much prefer if you lived for me.”