#fic: tease me

[rayveneyed]

bakugou katsuki proclaims, quite often, that he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. he snarls it — cheeks flushed an angry red — when you teasingly ask him for homemade chocolates, or to change your name in his phone to something cheesy. you’ve had him down as pumpkin from the moment you started dating, after all, and he’s long grown used to hearing baby and sweetheart and darling in place of his given name, even though he swears he hates it. you often tug at his wrist and point to bouquets of red roses, whining why don’t you ever get me those? just annoying enough to have him pulling your head under his elbow and roughly ruffling your hair, cursing the way he’s spoiled you.

kirishima got mina a heartbeat bracelet, you say pointedly, tucked under his arm on the couch and peering up at him with those eyes — those eyes that say you’re looking to push his buttons a little. (internally, he scoffs — as if he didn’t know. as if he wasn’t the one that gave shitty hair the idea in the first place. it’s just — it’s different, isn’t it, when he’s getting it for himself? for you?) shouldn’t we get something like that, baby ?

he grunts something unintelligible — something about how they’re gimmicky, how they probably don’t work, how it’d distract him when he’s kicking ass, how it’d probably melt with the use of a single howitzer impact, blah blah blah. you shrug. it’s not that big of a deal, anyway. you mostly brought it up to pull his leg a little — you know he’s not one for grand gestures like that, preferring his acts of service above all else — but for all the fight he’d put up, two heartbeat bracelets arrive at your apartment not even a week later. amazon prime expedited shipping, no less. 

he ignores you when you bring it up — lets you fasten it onto his wrist with little fanfare, the tips of his ears turning red, muttering something about he’d probably never use it, anyway, and he only got it so that you’d shut up about it all — never say i don’t do shit for you, woman!

but when he’s halfway across the world, tangled up in schemes larger than you have the capacity to think about — when you’re watching the news with teary eyes and bated breath, hands clutched to your chest, it always comes without fail: a small buzz on your wrist, gentle and thudding and rhythmic. ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.

[zepskies]

Hey could I please request headcanons for how Dean would react to reader texting him "she's busy" as a joke, yk kind of like

Dean: Hey baby

Reader: She's busy

I really hope this makes sense and isn't so confusing 😭😭

Ooh I think I know what you mean. 😏

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader Word Count: 850

Imagine: Texting Dean when he's on a hunt.

Once again, Dean sighed while he waited on his brother.

They were stopped at a 7-Eleven gas station after a hunt, but Dean had long ago filled up Baby's tank. Sam was inside, grabbing a few snacks for the road tomorrow. Supposedly.

Dean fished out his phone from his pocket and texted him.

Hey, Driving Miss Daisy. You good in there?

A couple of minutes later, Sam responded.

Yeah, just getting a few things.

Dean rolled his eyes. Right.

For half an hour? What, you taking a shit or something?

Sam's response was testy, just as Dean predicted.

Dean, give me a minute. Jesus.

Dean sighed, with a roll of his eyes. He scrolled back into his texts and found your name. He was a couple of states over from Lebanon, but still within the same timezone. You should still be awake back at the bunker.

He decided he wanted to hear your voice, let you know that he and Sam were going to catch one more night of rest here at the motel before they made the long drive back home.

But...you didn't answer when he called.

Weird. You were typically a night owl, either watching something or plugging away at your laptop. He tried texting you instead.

Hey, baby. You up?

He eventually saw the three gray dots pop up. You were typing...

She's busy.

Dean frowned. What the hell?

Had you invited someone over? Like Jody or Donna?

But neither of them would've replied like that...so he texted back.

Stop messing around.

Dean tried calling you again, but it went directly to voicemail this time. In came another text from "you."

She'll call you back, dude.

Dean's jaw ticked with annoyance. And despite himself, unease began to creep in and churn his stomach.

What the fuck is this?

She's in the shower. I'll tell her to call you back, no worries.

All right. WHO is this?

Ooh, are you the boyfriend? Yikes lol.

A deep, slow breath made it through Dean's nose. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, reminded himself that he did, in fact, love you.

Then he responded.

Babe, if you don't call me in the next 30 seconds, there's gonna be hell to pay when I get home.

Dean checked his watch and actually counted. About ten seconds passed before his phone rang with an incoming call...from you. He answered.

"Promise?" came your teasing voice. When it ended on a giggle, Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head back on the seat. He blew out a frustrated breath.

"Oh, trust and believe. You're gonna fuckin' get it this time," he said, though his lips curved on a reluctant smirk. You full on laughed at him then.

"You make it too easy," you replied.

He knew this. It wasn't the first time you'd teased him, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Still, he couldn't help being a bit irritated this time.

"You know, how would you like it if I did that to you?" he asked. "Wouldn't be so fucking funny then, would it?"

"...Okay. You're right. I'm sorry, baby," came your more contrite voice. But he could still hear your smile. Could imagine the way you might soothe a hand along his arm, if you were here.

"How about I make it up to you?" you offered.

That worked a slow smirk onto his face. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"

For the next few minutes, you purred into his ear about all the things you'd been thinking of while he was gone. Daydreaming about the talents of his hands, lips, and tongue.

In particular, you reminded him about a certain birthday wish that he still hadn't claimed from a couple weeks ago, when he and Sam got wind of this hunt.

Two weeks really was too damn long, in your opinion. (He agreed with you.)

Now with a half-straining bulge in his jeans, Dean licked his lips and tightened his hand on the leather wheel of the car.

"All right. Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart," he said, deceptively breezy. As if you'd just told him you planned to make tacos for dinner.

"When are you getting home?" you asked.

He heard the tone of your voice, like black silk. It sent a tendril of heat down his spine, raising the hairs on his forearms.

"Tonight," Dean said. Deeper, a note of gravel in his words. "I'll see you tonight."

"Good." Once again, he heard the smile in your voice. "I love you."

He sighed, and raised a hand to card through his hair.

"Love you too...even though you play too fucking much," he muttered the latter bit.

Your laughter once again reached his ears, reluctantly making him smile.

He hung up with you just before Sam finally opened the passenger seat door and climbed in with two hefty grocery bags. Did he do a whole damn shopping spree in there?

...Whatever. Dean shook his head and started the car.

"Change of plan," he said. "We're heading home."

"What? Thought we were gonna catch a few hours of sleep. It's a long drive, Dean," Sam said, earning his brother's gaze.

"Yeah, well, you'll live," Dean snarked. A more devious grin spread across his face. "I've got a date."

And she's about to get punished.

The Impala's tires screeched as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

AN: Ha! This one was fun. 😘 Thanks for the prompt!

Dean Winchester Imagines

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[justaz]

im not a fan of modern merthur but the idea of them meeting in modern times and introducing themselves to each other and them laughing and bonding over their names being connected to the myth of king arthur and camelot is just so cute

[findafight]

Severely neglected component of modernish rockstar Eddie fics is Robin deciding to become an internet hater for Eddie. Like she finds out Eddie is semi/famous and is like "oh, you know what'll be hilarious?" And makes a twitter account dedicated to dissing him. You cannot convince me she wouldn't. Eddie knows she runs the account (it's not even negative it's just to rag on him. Tweets like "Eddie Munson seems like the kind of guy who would tell his friend he'll get her dr pepper and then get some bullshit knockoff. What the hell is a peppo" and "Eddie Munson has probably gotten so distracted by his SO that he walked into a wall and then was still so distracted said SO thought he was concussed." Or "Jeff is actually the best member of CC Eddie probably walked on cafeteria tables in HS" And of course "everybody says I hate on Eddie too much but they don't know he woke his SOs bff up just to ask if there was any peppo left. Twice.") But he can't do anything about it. It's a bit of a meme, because the account never says anything actually mean about Eddie, or his music. Just. Bizarre hypotheticals. (They are not hypothetical)

People are like "how do you feel about EddieMunsonh8r at twitter dot com"

And he has to grit his teeth and say people can have their own opinions about him, ignoring the fact that Robin was literally sitting beside him poking him when she tweeted earlier that day about him wiggling his fingers and saying he'd like to have a little morsel (in reference to cheezies).

When asked why she does it she just says "to keep him humble. And also it's funny to see if people believe he would do this stuff."

Gareth proposes one of them make an account like that about Steve, semi famous stuntman who's doing some more acting now, and the next day Robin tweets "CC seems like the kid of guys who'd make a fake hater account about Steve and use actually silly billy things he does as content" (Jeff tattled)(Eddie groaned)(Steve and Robin cackled)

[shadebloopnik]

Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

[elvensorceress]

not quite tuesday tidbit teases

it's probably tuesday somewhere and this just popped in my head and I wanted to share. what do you think? do we want more?

tagging if any of you want to share something 😘 @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @messyhairdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @tizniz @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @diazsdimples @watchyourbuck @wh0re-behavi0r @911onabc @chaosandwolves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rogerzsteven @epicbuddieficrecs @bekkachaos @fiona-fififi @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @lover-of-mine @mikereads @jesuiscenseedormir @lemonzestywrites 💕

It’s just after midnight and Buck is going to bed. 

He’s been saying this for a couple hours but YouTube had too many AItA videos and Instagram had those gorgeously edited food recipe posts and he doesn’t even want to talk about the doomscrolling of TikTok. But he had a day off and it was supposed to be with Tommy so they could take the weekend and go somewhere fun and romantic, but then Tommy had to work. Buck could’ve gone in with the rest of A shift. But it was nice to have some alone time for himself so he took time for himself. 

His phone goes off with a call five seconds after he’s gotten into bed. It’s a number he doesn’t know. So he could ignore it. Or wait until they’ve left a message. But who would call at this hour for no reason? Or for scamming, telemarketing reasons? 

So Buck answers. 

“Buckley?” The man on the other end says. He sounds vaguely familiar but not enough that Buck came put a name or face with a voice. 

“Uh, yeah? Who is this?” 

“Mehta. Captain Mehta. Of the 133.”

“Oh, hey,” Buck says, automatically friendly and smiling. That makes sense now. “What’s up? Why the— why are you calling?” Why would he call in the middle of the night?

Why does anyone call in the middle of the night.

“Buckley,” he says and it sounds… it sounds… it sounds like…

They have him now. They’ll take care of him. Why don’t we get you cleaned up. He’s in good hands. They’ll rush him to surgery. You don’t have to worry. Let’s get you cleaned up. 

Lets get you cleaned up.

Buck can’t breathe. His whole body is cold. Frozen. 

He tries to get out of bed. He tries, but just slides to the floor beside it. He doesn’t make it any further.

“Buckley, there was a helicopter crash. Your team, our team we went to rescue the pilot. Your, uh, sorry, I don’t know what you call him, but your boyfriend? Life partner? He—”

Oh god. No. No, that’s not. That’s not happening. That is not what is happening right now. This can’t be a, Tommy is dead and I’m letting you know. It can’t be that. It’s not. They were going to—

They were supposed to have a romantic trip together. Wine tasting and some kind of museum Tommy thought Buck would love and maybe a visit to a hot springs up north and they were going to watch the sunset and the sunrise and—

And he can’t be dead. He can’t be.

“He’s alive,” Mehta says. “We’re at Cedars-Sinai. He’s alive, but. It doesn’t look good. He’s in the ICU now. He’s critical.”

Buck pushes himself up. Has to. He has to be there. 

He barely remembers to thank Mehta or even end the call before he switches off his phone and runs out the door. 

~

The drive is a blur. The drive is probably very illegal and he doesn’t know how he doesn’t crash, but he doesn’t have time to wait for an Uber or for anyone else. He runs as fast as possible to the ER lobby, and almost runs directly into Chimney. 

Not almost. Buck crashes into him and almost knocks them both to the floor but that almost actually is an almost because Chim somehow steadies them both. 

He’s pale. Shaken up. His eyes are red. He’s been crying. 

“Chim,” Buck says as broken as he feels. “Chim, where— where is he? What happened? How did this happen? Please tell me he’s okay. He can’t be dying, right? That can’t be happening?”

Chim opens his mouth and grips Buck’s arms tighter, still trying to steady him. “Buck, we— we don’t know yet. It was bad, but he’s tough. You know that. He could be fine.”

Buck lets out a broken whimper and backs away from him. “No. He is fine. He’s fine and this isn’t happening. I just— Chim, I just found him. I can’t lose him already.” 

There’s a flash of something on Chimney’s face but there’s movement around Buck, too. Other people. Bobby, he’s pretty sure. And Hen. They would be here. They would try to comfort him. But they don’t need to because it’s fine. Everything is fine and this isn’t happening. 

It can’t be happening. 

He can’t be dying.

There’s more movement and it’s all blurry, probably filtered through tears, but then everything stops. The world stops. 

Tommy is right in front of him. Whole, alive, real, a little rumpled and there are bloody scratches and bandages on his face and around his arm. But he’s here. He’s fine.

Buck slams into him, throws his arms around him, and sobs as he clutches him. 

“Baby,” Tommy says softly as he hugs Buck tightly, cradling him, comforting him, and Buck can breathe. He’s not frozen. Everything is okay. They were all wrong. Buck knew they were wrong. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tommy tells him and holds him tighter. 

Buck pulls back just to look at him. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He takes a deep breath and smiles because Tommy is fine. He’s right here and everything is good. Buck touches Tommy’s battered face and caresses him gently. He’s bruised and also pale, and very soggy. It’s been stormy tonight. Another reason why Buck wasn’t all that eager to go out in it. “They told me—  fuck, they scared me. I thought— I thought I lost you. I was so scared. I don’t want to lose you. He told me—Mehta, Captain Mehta— he called and told me there was a helicopter crash and my boyfriend was in the ICU and he’s critical and it didn’t look good, and I can’t— god, I can’t. Tommy, I—”

Tommy’s face isn’t good. It’s pale. Bad. Not smiling. Not relieved. It falls and he can’t even hide the devastation on it. He looks like guilt and death, and his mouth moves but nothing comes out. “Evan,” he finally says, barely says. It’s too quiet, too broken. “Evan…”

No. No, Buck doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want to throw up right now. And he just might. His heart is rabbit speed lightning and his legs don’t exist anymore and there’s an awful blackhole of apocalyptic world-ending destruction swirling and growing in his stomach. 

Someone takes his arm. Someone needs his attention. He’s moved from Tommy’s arms because there is no safety or comfort anymore. There’s no relief. There’s no happily ever after, nothing will ever be okay. 

Buck knows why Mehta said what he said. He knows who isn’t here. He knows who would have come to him and immediately comforted him. 

He knows. 

He knows what this is now. It can’t be that. It can’t. Buck doesn’t know anything.

Hen tells him. She holds his arm and says calmly even if it’s broken. Everything is broken. They’re all broken. “Buck. It’s Eddie.”

No. No, it isn’t. It isn’t that either. Buck really can’t take that. It was bad enough, unimaginable enough the other way. It can’t be this. 

He’s already done this. They did this before. More than once. Forty plus feet of cruel earth and a whirling burst of metal and blood all over him. 

Eddie’s blood was all over him. 

“The helicopter went down and got stuck on the cliffs. He went in so he could pull Tommy out, and we got Tommy out,” Hen tells him, every word a knife stabbing through both of them. All of them. 

“He saved me,” Tommy says, quiet and full of regret. “He saved me and went down with it. They thought it was stable enough. It wasn’t. They got him out after. But…”

Buck collapses to his knees on the floor and holds his head in his own hands as if he can somehow hold himself together when there’s no holding himself together. 

It’s Eddie.

It’s Eddie it’s Eddie it’s Eddie. 

Buck shatters like flimsy glass and sobs in all the pieces that are ripped out of him. What about Chris? What about Abuela? What about Eddie’s parents and sisters and friends and everyone else who loves him?

What about Buck? They can’t be BuckandEddie without Eddie. 

“I need to see him,” Buck suddenly says to the closest person who will listen. “I need to be with him. Please. Please.”

There’s arguing that happens. Bobby yells at someone. Hen, Chim, and Tommy stay around him like a protective guard. Until someone finally agrees. He’s not in surgery, they can’t take him to surgery yet. He’s not stable enough. But he’s on a ventilator, life support. They warn him and Buck doesn’t care. He knows how bad these things can be. He’s lived through several. 

They give him five minutes. 

They’ll have to drag him out with an armed guard if they think Buck will agree to only that. But at least it’s something. 

It’s something. 

Eddie is mostly covered. Blankets, wires, tubes, IV lines, bandages. He’s paler than all of them. Slightly blue-purple, cyanotic. They tell him a few things but Buck can’t hear them. He just wants to be with Eddie. 

Buck sits beside him and rests a shaking hand over Eddie’s hand, under the blankets where it’s trying to be warm. Buck would give anything to keep him warm, and alive. 

Eddie needs to stay alive. He needs to. 

Buck rests his forehead on the side of the bed near their joined hands. He would say something if he had the capacity to form words and sentences. The only thing in his head right now is, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.

And that’s probably all he can say. All that really matters. 

Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please, don’t ever leave me.

(read now on AO3)

[mellosdrawings]

OOOOOO CAN I ASK HOW WOULD THE N2 SQUAD REACT TO EACH OF THEM DYING?

What have you unleashed?

(WARNING: Angst, allusions to death, all that fun stuff. Nothing graphic tho, don't worry)

Jamil

He shouldn’t be surprised.

Well… He isn't surprised. Jamil Viper doesn't get nice things. Not for more than a few months, anyway.

Every once in a while, life takes pity on him and throws some nice, agreeable news his way. Just enough so that he lets his guard down. Just enough so that he allows himself to think maybe things will get better. Just enough so that he can pretend he isn't chained to a fate he will never escape.

A letter to NRC, a plan that goes a little too well, a couple of upperclassmen who seem to genuinely love him for who he is and not who he pretends to be.

So of course it doesn't last. Life gives and life takes.

Kalim follows, Octavinelle gets involved, Leona and Vil-

Well…

He isn't surprised.

Jamil Viper doesn't get nice things.

Vil

They look at him like they expect something from him. Horror, anger, ugly tears maybe. Just a reaction. Anything. Anything at all.

Vil doesn't give them that. Doesn't give them an opportunity to pity him. Doesn't give them food for gossip. Doesn't give them any material to make this topic last for any longer than it has to.

He knows how it works. Someone snaps a pic of him at his lowest, someone records his voice breaking during an interview, someone catches his lips tremble for but a second, and everybody will start talking about it again. And again. And again. For as long as there is a reaction from him. For as long as the topic attracts views.

Suffering brings more views than success.

So Vil doesn't react. Doesn't say a thing. Doesn't acknowledge the topic.

Better to be a cold asshole for a few weeks than to hear about it for years.

And in the darkness of his own room, where there is no camera, no eyes, and no ears to witness his grief-

Vil cries himself to sleep.

Leona

It’s just sand.

Only sand.

For miles and miles, further than the eye can see, nothing but sand.

Ruggie had the clever foresight to send all of Savanaclaw packing when Leona got the news. They would be sand too otherwise.

Who cares.

Who fucking cares.

He could turn the whole world to sand and it wouldn't be enough.

He might as well turn his own heart into sand.

It would hurt less.

[bigfootsmom]

tease/tidbit tuesday

No one tagged me but I’m still gonna post something anyways cause the laws of this land mean nothing to me. Have some more of buck’s oof ouchy broken ears:

The weight of a hand suddenly settles on Buck’s shoulder, sending a jolt through him as he jumps just about a foot in the air, heart pounding in his throat as he whirls around. He hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind him. That’s probably not a good sign.

Eddie is standing in front of him, arm still outstretched with his hand hovering in the air between them. From what Buck can make out of his face, Eddie’s brow is knotted with concern. Buck squints, willing the world to stay still for a second.

Eddie’s mouth forms the familiar shape of Buck’s name, his eyebrows drawing together to form a question. Buck can’t tell if he actually heard him, or his brain supplied one of many memories to fill the silence. Well, not silence, more like a buzzing so loud Buck has a half serious thought that somehow some of the bees had managed to crawl their way into his head.

“What?” Buck asks, his voice startling him as it bounces around the confines of his skull.

Eddie’s eyebrows climb up his forehead and his mouth moves again, his lips and teeth moving almost too fast for Buck to parse out the words. The mustache doesn’t help much either.

Tagging:

@usersiren @honestlydarkprincess @swiftietartt @holdmygum @maygrantgf

@lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @underwaterninja13 @father-salmon @devirnis

@giddyupbuck @princessfbi @homerforsure @mellaithwen @bisexual-buck

@boykisserbuckley @shyaudacity @eddiebabygirldiaz @thequeenofcarvenstone @smallandalmosthonest

@eowon @iinryer @try-set-me-on-fire and anyone else who has something they want to post!

[clovesnz]

don’t really know how to write smut (finally edited this)

it's very heterosexual and also there is no actual spelled out sneezing. lots of nosefucky and snotfuckery. very self inserty for me. lots of uhhh dry humping? idk guys.

“Oh my god you can’t just sit there in front of me like that my horny brain is going to actually fucking explode”

He sits at the edge of the bed. She is leaned against the headboard, blushing in spite of herself as she watches him sniffle and scrunch his nose up and down, over and over, in an obvious exaggeration of what are, to be fair, very real allergy symptoms. He lets out a long, labored sniff and scrubs at his nose vigorously.

“What? What am I doing?”

His eyes are twinkling, mischievous. He’s watching her practically squirm. She can't take her eyes off his nose. It’s glowing pink from all the rubbing and irritation, and as she watches, he pinches it between two fingers and locks eyes with her, one eyebrow cocked in amusement, and wrings his hand back and fourth, producing an obnoxious, messy squelching noise.

“Stopppp oh my god you fucking evil bastard” 

“Whatt why am I evil?” 

He puts on an ironic grin of feighned innocence, eyes wide, lip slightly curled. 

“I can’t help it. It’s just…” another sniff. Another theatrical scrub.

“...my nose”

“Oh my GOD no stop it”

She’s waving her hands in his direction, feebly attempting to shew his hands off of his nose. He really is laughing at her now, the fucking asshole, and she starts to laugh too. But he’s not gonna get away with it. She scoots towards him on the bed. They’re both completely cracking up now, and between breaths of laughter she struggles to grab hold of his hands, still going at his nose. 

"You’re so…mean this is not…not…okay just…get...no no no, uh-uh… there”

She’s half on top of him, and has managed after a bit of a struggle to get his hands pinned behind his back, away from his itching nose. There. No more teasing. They are both grinning silly at each other, their faces close. Close enough that she can see a little dampness around his nostrils. But just as she’s going to kiss him, arms still holding him firmly in place, his face changes. His upper brow wrinkles, and he looks genuinely panicked enough that she loosens her grip in concern. She is about to ask what’s wrong, when he tilts his head up and takes in a sudden breath, and she realizes, completely entranced, that he’s fighting the urge to sneeze. 

His teasing facade has completely disappeared, replaced with a frantic sort of embarrassed concern.

“Shit, I swear this wasn’t…I didn’t…”

It’s like she sees it in slow motion. He brings one hand to her side to brace himself, leans the other way, takes two more wavering breaths, and then lets out a harsh, wet sneeze into the back of his wrist. She feels her stomach drop, down, a sharp ache that pangs harder when he lowers his hand to reveal two strings of clear snot running from his nose. Holy shit. Her head rushes, and her heart races, and she just…stares, frozen.

“Sorry, does that make it un-sexy?”

He cringes down at his hand, face full of the self disgust of someone who's body has made a mess that they can’t control.

“What, no! I…sorry,”  

She doesn’t know how to explain, but she also doesn’t want him feeling that way, because god, she would watch him do that all day if she could. She tries anyways,

“It got a little too real and my brain kinda short-circiuted”

But he just looks more concerned, for her now instead of himself. Fuck why can’t she get the words out right.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Too real how?" He looks down at his hand again, deciding that must be the culprit.

“Here I’ll go get something to -”

He makes to slide off the bed and grab the tissues on his desk, but she tugs him back to her by his shirt.

“No! No wait, please.” 

He turns for her, and lets her take his hands, looking back down, eyes searching. She takes a calming breath, but before she can try to make words out of the paralyzing waves of desire coursing through her, another drip of snot slides out of his left nostril, and he winces, “Ugh, sorry,” and lets go of her and reaches a hand to swipe at it. But now her brain is working enough to send signals to her body, at least, and she stops his arm, firm but more gently than when he was doing it to tease her.

“...no.”

He obeys, and lets her pull him down to her level again. He’s holding her gaze, curious. Waiting. For her to explain, to communicate. Her whole body is shaking, just a little.

“Just…”

She reaches one hand up and cups his cheek for a moment, letting her thumb graze the very edge of the sparkling wetness covering his upper lip. He accepts the touch, leaning into it,  but his eyes are still searching.

“Wh-”

Before he can ask, she lifts her other hand, and gently, methodically, the way someone might delicately run their finger over a beautiful piece of jewelry, touches the pooling snot with the tip of her pointer finger. She breathes in and shudders, her whole body zinging and tingling at the feeling of it on her fingers, and that’s when she can see it click for him.

“....oh.”

She takes another shuddering breath. She wants to do more, wants to swipe at his nose, to cover her fingers in his snot, to make him blow into them, to have it in her mouth, but it’s all so much and it’s so…it’s so odd, it’s got to be so add, to him, and now she’s too embarrassed to keep going but also too captivated to stop and she drops her hand a lets out a whimper of frustration that is maybe actually just neediness and he looks at her, just as enthralled. He’s not laughing anymore, he is all attention, his own breaths picking up pace with hers.

“Yeah?”

He’s asking her without asking. Yeah, you like me like this? You like all of it?

“....um. Yeah.”

His eyes sparkle, fiery and exited

“Oh, fuck, okay. What do you…what do you want me to do?”

It’s such an open-ended question, and a dozen deeply held fantasies, the kinds of things she never thought she'd ask of anyone, flood through her mind. But the thought of speaking to them is so scary, it’s so ingrained in her head that she’ll gross him out, that he’ll find it all too weird, and she feels that rising panic again, and it makes her want to stop all of this and curl up in a ball and hide.

“I’m..oh my god no I’m embarrassed”

She breaks away and falls back onto the bed, covering her face defensively, her cheeks prickling and burning in mortification. But he just follows, propping himself up over her, and some of her embarrassment vanishes as he lowers himself against her, because holy shit, apparently it’s not just her who is wildy, embarrassingly turned on right now. He leans down to one of her ears, and she feels the dampness of his upper lip pressed, purposefully, almost nuzzled, against her cheek as he whispers, not teasing this time but tantalizing, serious, like he’s daring her:

“Stop being embarrassed”

And it’s too much, he’s too good like this, she can’t…she wants it too badly. She groans and rocks into him, and when he gasps a little in response she catches his breath in her lips. She feels her whole body tingle and sparkle as she realizes she can taste the bit of salt still on his lips. She can’t help it - she whines, and thrusts against him again, and kisses him deeper, and steals herself and lets herself nip at his upper lip, and god when she does it she feels it, like really feels it, the snot smeared onto her own lip now. And she wants to do it again, wants it in her mouth, wants to have it, his cute red nose and his snot, so she kisses him there, right under his nose, and she feels him smile beneath her but he doesn’t flinch away, and it’s not enough so she does it again, and when he brings her back to his mouth it's encouraging, and kind of messy, and he breaks away by running kisses down her chin until his dripping nose is pressed up against her mouth. Now she’s not thinking, she’s not thinking at all she’s just wanting and so she nips at the tip of his nose and oh god she likes it so much, so she does it again but lets her tongue feel it too, and he just nuzzles into it so she lets her mouth explore. Nipping and his nostrils, gently squeezing them together with her teeth, running her tongue up his septum and around one nostril and then the other, peppering his upper lip with generous, licking kisses until all the snot there is gone, so she follows it’s path, slipping her tongue ever so slightly up to one nostril. She feels his nose twitch as she does it, and it sends a thrill through her body so she does it more, flicking it back and fourth at the opening of it. He gasps,

“You’re gonna make me…oh fuck I’m…”

And he leans to the side, disengaging to let out a forceful sneeze into his elbow. He stays turned away, frozen with his face turned upwards, building to another one.

“Hey - ”

She reaches for his crooked elbow, gently bringing it down from his face, and he catches her meaning and turns back to her right as it hits him, pitching forward into her chest with the force of the sneeze that spills out of him. Strings of snot wet the front of her t-shirt and she feels her hips thrust reactively at the pleasure of it.

“Fuck me, oh my sweetheart…” she coos, and he whimpers a little at the pet name and lets out snuffling little squeek as she presses into him harder, bold enough now to tenderly, adoringly swipe at the snot running from his twitching nose. 

“Oh..fuck, oh my darling, can you do that again?”

And he does, bending forward into her again with the force of another sneeze, and holy shit she doesn’t know if her cunt can take it she's aching so badly but he’s so preoccupied, hitching and blinking and twitching, and when he starts getting close again he leans into her again but she doesn’t want to stop watching this time so she asks,

“Hey…look at me”

And he does, obedient, meeting her gaze and keeping it until his eyes are forced shut and he sneezes, barely turning away this time, misting her face in spittle and sniffling helplessly at the aftermath. 

“Bless you”

She gasps, and his face is already crumpling again but he keeps himself level with her, and this time the spray is thicker and hits her face and god the way his whole body tenses and releases and his cock presses against her with the force of it and if he doesn’t start touching her she going to have to start touching herself.

“Uhhnn, bless you. Fuck, I-I can’t…this is…fuck”

He grins at her loss of composure, teasing again even as he fights back another sneeze, and she gasps and cries out a little as he moves against her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He laughs a little,

“Y-yeah?”

She just nods, yes, thrusting harder to emphasize the point, and god this is stupid why don’t they have their fucking clothes off already, and he’s still sniffling and hitching but he props himself on one arm and reaches to the button of her corduroy jeans and she can’t bare to wait for him to fumble with them one handed so undoes them herself and and slides them off, and he groans a little between hitches when he slides his hand under the waistband of her boxers and lets out a breath, like he's relieved to finally be there. She sucks in a breath as he begins to he tease the opening of her cunt, infuriatingly. She whines in protest and he obliges quickly, slipping two fingers inside of her and pulsing softly against her, all the while still hitching and blinking, building up to sneeze again, and she realizes after a few moments, in complete amazement, that he’s going at her harder the closer he gets to sneezing. She gasps,

“Keep… keep doing that”

And he does, faster and faster and then pulling up with his whole arm as his body shakes with it, spraying her in snot and spit and she cries out and begs, cause he’s got her so close and she needs more but he’s slowed again. He's slowed and she’ll have to wait, have to wait for the tickle to built up because that’s how this game works now. But two can play at that, so she reaches for the back of his neck, a little forceful in her want but he lets her, and she flicks her tongue against the opening of his nostril, fast, like she did before, and he matches the rhythm of it with his fingers. It’s getting faster, and she’s so fucking close with him on her and inside of her and under her tongue and she’s breathing so heavily it’s hard to keep her tongue moving but she does until he pulls back, only slightly, still going at her faster than her fucking vibrator, and his eyes flutter shut and oh god she wants it, wants to feel it, to hear it to see it to taste it and she does, right as she hits her peak, screaming out as he erupts once more, the spray landing against her open mouth, and she grabs for him desperately, ravenously, and kisses him, deep and sticky as she rides out her orgasm on his fingers.

**************

Epilogue: he pulls off her shirt and blows his nose in it and then she makes him do the same thing with his own shirt and then his pants and then her underwear and then she gets on top of him and fucks him while he sneezes all over himself but she stops before he cums and finishes him off with her hands so that she can see him make that much more of a mess of himself and then she takes him to the shower to get cleaned off and the sneezing has died down but they fuck again in the shower anyways and then she lovingly rubs soothing lotion around his irritated nostrils and forces him to take the Claratin she bought him because the whole thing started when he ran out and forgot to buy more. The end.

**************

anyways so yeah. sorrry for the weird formatting. ya girl used to read a novel every week back in high school but still doesn't know how to structure dialogue. if u read this i love you <333

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday

it's Tuesday somewhere so starting it off early lol

after 7x09 I had like 4 new ideas (plus maaaany more non-episode related ideas, istg lately there's so many, I don't know what to focus on lol my brain feels loud, and I feel like I'm writing a hundred things at once, I've been a chaotic mess this month istg) but for now im trying to focus on this one fic, and trying to finish whatever this is before the next episode

for now, here's a bit of bucktommy at the medal ceremony after the encounter with gerrard

___

He could punch Gerrard in the face. He really wants to, and if it was a couple years ago, he probably would – but he’s at a work event, the guy is a Captain, unfortunately, and Buck just got a medal, he’s not risking his job right now. He’s not the same impulsive kid he was seven years ago. He’s heard enough stories from Chimney and Hen, and recently some vague ones from Tommy, to know that he hates their old Cap. Tommy seems to want to open up to Buck, to let Buck truly know him, but talking about that past, about himself back then, about the whole environment is not easy, and Buck gets that. They have time to get to know each other, neither of them is going anywhere. Buck’s certainly not planning to, and when Tommy says he isn’t, either, Buck finds himself trusting him, which is very new but so exciting.

“It’s- well, it was to be expected.” Tommy shrugs, his face a careful, neutral mask that Buck’s just starting to learn to see past, then sits down when they approach the table, putting his plate down – they’re sharing it with Eddie, Marisol and Christopher, but the three of them are still at the buffet getting food. Buck takes a seat next to him, then scoots his chair closer – close enough that their knees touch, but far enough that they still appear professional. “It just threw me off. Actually, threw me twenty years back for a moment.” he huffs an unamused, bitter laugh.

___

no pressure tags: @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @your-catfish-friend @dangerpronebuddie @neverevan @loveyouanyway @tizniz @theotherbuckley @diazsdimples

[ikemenomegas]

During your courtship, Jiaoqiu makes you get snakes for his pharmacy. It's quite common for couples that include at least one Foxian to hunt together so he doesn't leave you to do it alone. But this is less for the sake of tradition and more for the sake of his amusement as you jump around in long grass, holding a viper behind its head and forcefully keeping it from biting your face or arm or leg and any other body part. You really sound a bit pitiful as you yelp, nearly stepping on another one before pouncing, shouting so loud there can't possibly be anything in the way of game left within a half-li radius, and stuffing it into the special basket he prepared for you. You don't complain even once, though you sniffle when you hand him the basket, so he doesn't tease you that much.

[elvensorceress]

tuesday teases

Haven’t been around in a million years but the show baited me with delicious Eddie angst. So. Hello lovely little gay people in my phone. Would you like some Tuesday fic teases?

@tizniz @hippolotamus @chaosandwolves @inell @smilingbuckley @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @blutterlie @thelikesofus @ronordmann @dr-shortsighted-owl @lovecolibri @eddiebabygirldiaz @fiona-fififi @thekristen999

Here’s the ridiculous boys after the realtor phone call meeting…

“She probably wasn’t thinking anything one way or the other. She’s just focused on her job and finding us— me. Me, technically. A house.”

No. Not just Eddie. Their house. It would be theirs. Even if Buck isn’t there. Even if he never steps one foot into it. Eddie’s home is still Buck’s home. That won’t change. Ever.

But he can’t say that. How does he say that?

He gets up from the couch and grabs his empty mug. “You still want to make snickerdoodles? Or some other cookie? Or, what did you call it? Cake masquerading as loaf bread?” Eddie doesn’t wait for an answer. He goes into the kitchen and gets out the stash of flour he’s recently acquired.

He stocked up. Just in case. Can’t have the alternative of Buck without his baking.

Eddie sets one of the ten pound bags on the counter then grabs a pack of butter and the carton of eggs from the fridge and finds the measuring cups and spoons in their drawer. The basket Buck made years ago during quarantine is next. It holds the vanilla, the baking powder and soda, various flavored extracts, finishing salt, molasses, packets of instant yeast, chocolate chips, other baking essentials. He takes the jar of cinnamon from the spice rack in the cupboard, goes to put it with everything, but finds Buck staring from the kitchen doorway.

He looks too wistful. Too heartbroken. And all Eddie can offer is a kitchen and ingredients. He doesn’t have anything else.

Was it really that much of a loss? They were only together for six months. Did Buck really want to spend his life with the guy? It couldn’t have been that serious. It never is.

None of the people Buck’s dated are good enough for him.

Maybe Buck isn’t thinking of his ex right now. Maybe he’s thinking about the kid who was like a son to him.

Or the whole Eddie moving to El Paso thing. He seems fine, for the most part. He’s helping. But that’s what Buck does. He helps. He supports. Even when he shouldn’t.

But Buck has bad relationships to get over. He’s not really thinking about Eddie or Eddie’s problems. He’s focusing on a task so that his mind doesn’t wander where it shouldn’t.

Buck would be fine without Eddie. Hell, he’s probably better off. Or he will be.

Eddie asks too much of him. He takes up too much of Buck's time with his issues.

Eddie looks through the little stock pile he’s put together. “Anything else you need?”

Buck looks, stands beside him, and answers, “Sugar?”

Sugar.

Eddie’s stomach twists. It’s not a pet name. It’s an answer. Not a term of endearment. Answer. And of course it slipped Eddie’s mind. Why wouldn’t something that huge and essential be missing from his offering. He should have some though. Buried in the back of the pantry. He finds white, brown, and confectioner’s, and adds them to the supply. “All yours. Whatever you want to make. I’ll run to the store and get more if you need anything. We should have plenty of flour though. I got you five bags.”

Buck’s head snaps toward him. “Five bags? You got me five bags of flour? Like, two pound ones, right? Or the five pounders?”

Eddie shakes his head and gestures. “No, the tens. Like that one.”

“You bought me fifty pounds of flour?”

“Well, you’re the one who decided his coping mechanism was snickerdoodles and sourdough. I’m just being supportive. Since you’re my wingman and I’m yours or whatever you said when you stole my tablet and my realtor call.”

Buck huffs but smirks. “More like saved your call.”

More like saved Eddie’s everything but who’s counting?

[nburkhardt]

For @strangersteddierthings 💜

~

“Dude, are you and Harrington dating?”

Eddie jolts and looks up at Jeff, his best friend looking at him up and down, causing him to look at himself. There’s nothing different he’s wearing, it’s his usual ripped jeans and a Metallica shirt his jacket was thrown on a random chair earlier.

He looks back up at Jeff, “why exactly are you asking?”

Jeff shrugs, “You guys just seem really close lately”

That doesn’t say much, at least not enough for him to figure out what dots Jeff decided to connect.

Even if he does want to be dating Steve.

“We’re close, yeah. But, uh, we aren’t dating. At least, not right now”

That makes Jeff raise his eyebrow and his grin to appear, “oh not right now, Eddie?”

All he can do is blush and nod, putting his guitar down to mess with his rings instead, “yeah, uh, I do want to be dating him but I’m not sure if he feels the same”

His friend huffs out a laugh and Eddie can tell he’s shaking his head even without looking at him.

“Ed, listen to me, that guy isn’t as touchy with anyone else but you”

That brings out a laugh, “then you haven’t seen him with Robin. Trust me, he doesn’t mean anything”

Jeff shrugs, “I’m telling you, Steve Harrington is not a touchy person. Not like you at least. Should ask him and maybe something will happen.”

He doesn’t say anything back, his mind racing a bit. Instead, he grabs his things and makes a move to leave only to be stopped again.

Jeff’s smile wide with mischief, “I call best man at the wedding if this is what gets you guys together”

It startles a laugh out of him and calms his nerves, “yeah, deal man.”

The moon is casting a glow across the trailer park and the wind is blowing but he’s warm and it’s partly due to his blush blooming.

The other reason is Steve leaning against him holding him close.

It brings back Jeff’s words from the day before, how he assumed they’re together.

“Hey, Stevie, are you this touchy with anyone else?” He forces himself to keep looking straight ahead, too afraid of whatever is on Steve’s face.

It’s quiet and he feels Steve tense up.

“….. no. Not really” Steve admits, he makes a move to move his arm but Eddie’s faster and grabs it still, “Eds, if- uh, if it’s too much-“

He shakes head, taking a deep breathe before shifting to actually look at Steve. There’s a nervous look all over his face and he’s not looking at him, his eyes jumping around but never landing on him.

“Steve, honey, look at me please”

Immediately Steve’s eyes snap to his and Eddie can’t believe he didn’t see it before.

His heart is beating faster, his blush is near permanent now.

Instead of saying anything yet, he slowly moves to sit directly in Steve’s lap. He has a front row view of the blush come up his face as he settles, Steve moves his arms and settles them around his waist pulling even closer and hiding his face in Eddie’s shoulder.

“You, I’m only touchy like this with you” Steve mumbles and it brings a smile to his face.

“Yeah?” He wraps his arms around Steve’s back, “I’m special?”

“So special”

He can feel Steve’s heartbeat against his chest and it makes his go faster, makes him warmer at the simple fact. “You’re special too, Stevie”

Steve mumbles something against him and he laughs, “I can’t hear you, lovely.”

“I said, I think I love you.” It’s a whisper and Eddie can’t tell if his heart has stopped or is beating so fast he just can’t feel it, “Eddie, darling, I do love you and I just didn’t know how to say it to you”

He shifts to move Steve’s head to look at him, his cheeks are a gorgeous red and his eyes are hopeful. It makes Eddie smile before leaning his forehead against Steve’s, it makes him go cross eyed but it doesn’t matter.

“I’ve been afraid to ruin our friendship, so I didn’t say anything to you” He whispers, “I love you too, baby”

There’s laughter, tears and sweet kisses. Wrapped around each other under the night sky.

Years Later

“Today was beautiful, which, good job to Robin for planning this, if the boys would’ve planned it I don’t even think we’d have fresh flowers”

The crowd laughed and Jeff smiled as he watched twin middle fingers pop up from the couple, laughing he shakes his head, “You both know I’m right, like how I was the one to help you guys get together”

Eddie groaned and Jeff quickly shifted closer to Robin, “As the promised best man, I get to gloat all I want, Mr. He Doesn’t Feel The Same.” He poked his tongue out at him and watched as Steve let out a loud laugh along with everyone else.

After the laughter died down, “I’m ecstatic for you both, truly. You’re lucky to have each other forever and I can’t wait to see the life you build together. To Eddie and Steve!”

Everyone cheers, raising their glasses and echoing ‘To Eddie and Steve’.

Jeff raises his own glass to his lips and glances around before looking back at the newly weds. Steve has his arm around Eddie, their foreheads touching and Jeff catches their sweet words.

“I love you, darling”

“Beloved, I love you so much”

~

This got a little longer than I meant to. Which is normal at this point haha. Anyway! Discord got angsty and Jess got caught in the crossfire, told her I’d make it up to her and this is it!! So I hope you enjoyed this sappy fic!

Inspired by this writing prompt: “Are you this touchy with your other friends?” “…No.”

Permanent tag list: @spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz (if you wanted to be added, let me know!)

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard @tizniz 💖

more bucktommy the will talk (they're getting there, the conversation went a bit off track lol) - it might be done this week, and then I can focus on the smut, and the buddie fics, and I have a new bucktommy idea inspired by that video of lou barbecuing with his shirt off that I sooo wanna write🙈

prev snippet

___

“Well, yeah, of course.” Buck answers easily, his heartbeat speeding up. He’s a little anxious about putting too much pressure, too many expectations out there, but he also knows that even if he did, they’d get back on track, they’d be fine. And besides, Tommy’s smiling, he doesn’t seem freaked out at all. And that’s after Buck brought up children. But if they’re moving forward with their relationship, they need to know what they want out of life. It seems reasonable to have this conversation this early on.

“Good.” he responds, grinning widely. “Now I won't have to stress about your answer when I ask.” he adds, and Buck feels himself blush, butterflies in his stomach going wild. Oh. Oh. This is- this is real. They’re talking about it, and maybe someday soon- he might marry this man. He will marry this man. Tommy wants him forever. Tommy wants him. Tommy wants to marry him and have children with him, and just be with him. Sometimes it’s still so shocking to Buck that someone as great and amazing as Tommy wants him, but he does. Buck’s not sure he remembers the last time he felt this wanted.

“How- how do you know I won’t ask first?” Buck asks, moving his head slightly closer to Tommy, just enough to look into his beautiful blue eyes. It feels surreal, talking about this, when they only dated for a few months, but it also feels… right. It feels like they’re on the right track to get there one day.

___

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[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

Post sparring sketches bc of the inherent homoeroticism