#hey sweetheart

[hollygl125]

Sara Sidle + Gil Grissom + the way that old man flirts with his wife. 💕

“That would be you, sweetheart.”

#csiv: 1x06: sweetheart. PART 1. @ficwip #hey sweetheart

[ficwip]

Our annual Valentine's Day event returns in three weeks!

hey, sweetheart

February 10-14 , 2025

use the pet name “sweetheart” in fic or art

optional daily prompts

we welcome all fandoms & original fiction!

new this year: no more sign-ups or official submissions! just participate via hashtag

💕 complete event info + prompts

-- optional daily prompts

The daily prompts are suggestions to give you ideas. Use them along with the “sweetheart” prompt or skip! It’s fine to mix & match too. You don’t have to interpret these literally; they’re just places to start. You do not have to post any prompt on a specific date.

Feb 10: chocolate

Feb 11: strawberries

Feb 12: flowers

Feb 13: jewelry

Feb 14: candy hearts

[nimudae]

Happy Valentines from "(Grumpy) Sweetheart" and "Darling (Sunshine)" ❤️💛 For @ficwip's Hey Sweetheart challenge

[Ko-fi] (Sorry for the repost but A Certain Hellsite shadowbanned this after an edit)

[quickreaver]

Happy Vday, to all you schmoops who celebrate! This was also created for the SPN-J2 Secret Santa on LJ (for stellamira and her prompt: "You think you can manage not to break any bones next year?") and @ficwip’s Hey, Sweetheart event. Who me, lazy? Yeah, pretty much... :D

[grapenehifics]

Prisoner 224

I really loved writing Out of Sync for @fulcrum843's @topwan-obikin fest prompt, but fully intended it to be a one-shot until @somethingsteff started feeding me ideas and, well, I'm limited on free time right now so this is still only a ficlet but I couldn't help myself.

If you don't know the fic, the Council finds out about Obi-Wan and Anakin's relationship and they quit the Order. Anakin punches Palpatine when he insults Obi-Wan and gets sent to jail, and Obi-Wan hurries to hit the Chancellor as well so they can stay together. This also fulfills @ficwip's Hey Sweetheart challenge!

Text under the cut:

“Where are we going?” Anakin demanded. His hands were bound at the wrists in front of him, which didn’t make him look very threatening, but he gave his best glare to the backs of the heads of the troopers escorting him down the hall anyway.

Neither the troopers ahead of him nor the two at his back answered him. Their little group just kept marching along.

“I demand to know where you’re taking me,” Anakin tried, not pausing in his forward march but flexing his fingertips in preparation. He didn’t want to use the Force against them – besides the fact that they were probably just acting on orders from someone higher up the prison management chain of command, he was also pretty sure even something mild like knocking four guards out for a few hours would get his sentence extended and that was the opposite of what he wanted considering Obi-Wan was already slated to get out weeks before he did – but he also was not planning on taking a move to another cell block without putting up some sort of a fight.

He and Obi-Wan were kept apart for most of the day – Anakin in his cell and Obi-Wan in his – but because they were part of the same cell block, they were allowed to take both their exercise hour and their meal break together, Anakin holding Obi-Wan’s hand clasped in his as they jogged around the exercise track in their prison-issued tracksuits and rubbing elbows as they sat side-by-side with their dinner trays (and this only because they’d been told off for trying to sit on each other’s laps instead). But it was still a far sight better than not getting to see him at all, and Anakin hadn’t even done anything wrong (lately) and so really didn’t deserve to be punished like this.

“I want to go back to my cell,” he said.

“One of my batchmates is serving under Commander Cody in the 212th,” the trooper behind Anakin on his right said through his helmet vocoder. “CT-3812.”

“Sure. Punch, right?” Anakin said easily. “Yeah, I know him. But what has that got to do with anything?”

“That’s him,” the trooper agreed. None of the prison guards had ever told Anakin their names, just their badge numbers, although not for lack of asking. This one was one of the supervisors. Some of the younger guys were so green they had five-digit designations. “He’s met General Kenobi a few times.”

“Cool. So have I,” Anakin nearly growled. “That’s who I’m trying to get back to. So if you could just put me back in my cell, that’d be great. Or at least tell me what I’ve done.”

“Punch tells me he’s a real stand-up guy,” the trooper continued, as if Anakin hadn’t spoken. “Always makes sure his men have enough to eat. Doesn’t take unnecessary risks. That sort of thing.”

They rounded a corner. Anakin was starting to get desperate. “Just tell me where we’re going,” he practically begged. “I can call in a couple of favors and get myself reassigned back to Obi-Wan’s floor”-

“Punch also said,” the trooper on Anakin’s right said, so loudly he was almost shouting in Anakin’s ear, “that one time you and your troops joined up with their battalion, you threw yourself in front of a blazer bomb. Saved the lives of fifteen men.”

Anakin had done that enough times that that didn’t really narrow it down for him. “Which campaign?” he asked, but the trooper ignored him yet again, which seemed rude, considering he’d started the conversation in the first place.

A commlink chirped – Anakin instinctively looked to his own belt before remembering he didn’t wear one anymore – and one of the troopers at the front of their procession answered it.

“We’re ready for you, Sergeant,” the voice on the other end said.

“Copy,” the man said, replacing the device on his belt.

“Well, I’m not ready,” Anakin said, and he stopped walking. The troopers at his back nearly ran into him. “I’m not going any further without an explanation. If you can’t give me that, then you can just put me back in my cell, because” –

“We do regular maintenance, on all the cells,” one of the troopers injected, talking over the tail end of Anakin’s sentence. “Routine cleaning, things like that. Check that the water pipes are functioning properly, do a little light dusting…”

“I don’t care if my cell is clean or not,” Anakin hissed. “You can skip mine for the next five months if you want. Or let me do it myself. Is that the problem? Just give me the tools and leave me alone. If you’re worried I’m going to break out, I promise I won’t. As long as you’ve got Obi-Wan here I’m, like, the opposite of a flight risk.”

“It might take, say, three hours to finish the whole floor, wouldn’t you say?” the trooper on Anakin’s left asked the trooper on Anakin’s right.

“Maybe as many as four,” he responded.

“And we do these sorts of rounds every other week,” the first one continued.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Anakin demanded.

“If you’d just wait right in here, Prisoner 224,” the trooper who was friends with Punch said, and nudged Anakin in the back with the butt of his rifle.

“I told you; I’m not going. And you’re bluffing. You won’t shoot me.”

“That’s true,” the trooper admitted. “I’m not. What I am going to do is count to thirty, and by the time I get to the end, you’re going to decide to go, all on your own.”

“Ha,” Anakin said. “Like hell I am. What on earth do you think would make me” –

“Here we are, sir,” another of the troopers said, and he punched the button to release the door guard in front of one of the cells. He was wearing a bucket, but he somehow seemed to be able to stare straight into Anakin’s eyes anyway. “Four hours, every other week,” he repeated slowly, enunciating very clearly.

“I don’t care how clean it is,” Anakin insisted, just as he was very unceremoniously shoved forward into the new cell he absolutely did not want to be in –

“Oh. Hello, sweetheart,” Obi-Wan said, sitting up from where he’d been lying on his back across his bunk, his arms crossed behind his head. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“What” – Anakin stammered as the door guard slammed down behind him, locking him in. Locking him into Obi-Wan’s cell. With Obi-Wan.

Anakin opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. The binders around his wrists unlocked and fell to the floor with a clatter. “Send Punch my regards,” he said, without turning his head. He and Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped staring into one another’s eyes from the moment they’d faced one another. Obi-Wan grinned. Anakin grinned back.

“Will do, sir,” his friend said jovially, but Anakin missed hearing him as he launched himself at Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan, laughing, caught him and lowered him down onto his bunk.

“Did I just hear you say something about four hours?” Obi-Wan asked mischievously, one eyebrow raising into a verbal question mark.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan did.

[kinetic-elaboration]

Complex College Mating Rituals as a Distraction from the Brutality of Boston Winter

Fandom: Daria Pairing: Daria/Jane Word Count: 3,600 Tags: College Era, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff

For @ficwip 's 2024 Hey Sweetheart challenge, the goal of which is to write a story (or create art) in which one character calls another 'sweetheart'--and means it.

Summary/Excerpt:

"Complex college mating rituals as a distraction from the brutality of Boston winter," Daria answers.

"That could be the title of a story."

"I'm hardly the person to write it."

Jane shrugs. "Why not?" She pokes Daria's foot under the table with the toe of her boot, tries with only some success to hold back her smirk. "You have a girlfriend. How'd you manage that if you don't know something about complex mating rituals?"

Or: Three scenes from Daria and Jane's freshman year of college, February 2001, as they settle into their new relationship.

READ ON AO3.

[sparklepocalypse]

This glorious WIP Wednesday, I bring you a whole damn fic -- and my hundredth work on AO3! -- which I wrote A. for Valentine's Day and B. for @ficwip's Hey Sweetheart challenge! Thanks to @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @kiwiana-writes, @getmehighonmagic, @firenati0n, @anincompletelist, @priincebutt, and @inexplicablymine for the tags on this most holy Singles Awareness Day! 💗

[Rated E | 7,732 words]

“I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day as a rule; it’s so commercialized and performative, and that just strips away all the actual romance. But also… it’s objectively more difficult to celebrate Valentine’s Day when you’re aggressively single.” “What exactly makes someone aggressively single?” Henry muses. Alex chuckles and adjusts his stance against the desk. “Not sure that’s really a topic for the office, regardless of whether you’re Pez’s best friend,” he replies. (Or, Okonjo Foundation lawyer Alex meets Okonjo shelter director Henry. A Valentine's Day fic.)

Mind the tags please: relevant triggery tags include homophobia and transphobia, due to the nature of Alex and Henry's jobs. Alex and Henry are the good guys, here; it's the side characters who we hate.

Open tag comin' your way (yes, you in particular), because I've seen a lot of WIP Wednesday posts flying around today already!

[starlightvld]

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender Rating: Teen Relationships: Sheith (Shiro/Keith) Chapters: 1/1 * Words: 6,915 * Status: COMPLETE

During a routine mission to provide aid to a planet ravaged by the defunct Galra Empire, galra hold-outs pull Keith through a wormhole to who-knows-where and disable his ship before he defeats them. As he drifts through space alone and then crash lands on a deserted planet, he muses over his relationship with loneliness as he tries to keep his hopes up that his friends will come to the rescue. This time, it's Shiro's turn to be Keith's hero.

Written for the @ficwip Hey, Sweetheart 2024 event.

[bcbdrums]

Full Disclosure

A Drakgo fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

A/N: This next one-shot has a few sources of inspiration. First, the prompt from this list: 2. "If I kiss you, will you shut up?" Prompt was recommended by the legendary "Guest" on AO3 (you know who you are!) who specifically wanted French kissy-face, and the story was inspired in part by @lordwiggyton whose recent Mama Lipsky art has had my mind stirring. I'm also submitting this work to the "Hey, Sweetheart" Valentine's event run by @ficwip. It's not the conventional route perhaps, but within the rules? Pretty sure. And last but not least, it's an answer to @kim-possible-prompts's Valentine's Day prompt! (Have y'all noticed I adore answering prompts? lol.) ALSO this is the first of some birthday gifts I have for the incomparable @gothicthundra. Happy birthday, chaos queen. :) Enjoy!

Full Disclosure

Shego sighed from her perch at the end of the bed, leaning back and re-crossing her legs as she watched Drakken pace and listened to the same worried ramblings for the third time.

"But what if she never forgives me!" he cried as he wrung his hands.

"Dr. D.... We've been through this," Shego said, glancing down to study her nails. "She's jumped across moving train cars for you. Somehow I don't think finding out you've spent the past twenty years attempting world domination is going to come as much of a shock."

"But Shego..." Drakken said, pausing in front of her.

Shego looked up and took stock of her lover's appearance. He had, at her insistence, gone for black slacks instead of his usual Dockers, a tailored cherry-red dress shirt, and a black silk tie that perfectly accented the rest of his attire. And of course, the gold medal he'd received for saving the world hung heavy over his chest.

Shego wished she were the one going out with Drakken that evening, especially considering the calendar date. But this night had been planned for quite some time.

"She's had faith in me my entire life... How can I tell her it was all for nothing?"

"Drakken—"

"I admit it's past time to tell her the truth, but I just can't bear to disappoint her!"

"Drakken—"

"And then I'll never hear the end of it!" Drakken continued, throwing his hands up and resuming his ambling around the bedroom. "Passive-aggressive cards and letters is all I'll get for Christmas now! And lumps of coal instead of home-knitted sweaters!"

Shego stood up from the bed and briskly approached him.

"Drakken—"

"All the years of silence I left between us so she wouldn't figure it out. All those lost years I could have been close to my lonely old mother. That's what her letters will say, now. Have you ever heard that woman start on a guilt trip? She's an absolute master!"

"Drew!"

This finally caused the mad scientist's jaw to snap closed. He stopped mid-stride and whirled around to face her.

"If I kiss you, will you shut up?"

"Hnn?"

Shego didn't wait for an invitation. She snaked her arms around Drakken's neck and pressed in close before he could protest, and was gratified to feel tension leave his shoulders first and his lips a moment after.

She was far gentler with the kiss than with her words, her lips sliding with soft friction against his until they parted and gave her tongue purchase. She felt his soft exhale through his nostrils against her cheek as his fingers found her waist, and she could feel his hum of satisfaction where their chests were pressed together. His tongue was gentle as it slid alongside hers in caress, and he still tasted of cinnamon from his toothpaste.

Warmth blossomed in Shego's chest at his attentive response, and for the moment the dilemma of the present was forgotten. There was only the gentle pressure of noses fitted together, the give and take as their tongues took turns parting supple lips and exploring the heat and texture of one another. Drakken's body melded hot against hers as his hands slid lower, and her fingers rose to tangle his perfectly slicked-back hair.

It was fortuitous perhaps when Drakken pulled back slightly to stroke the outline of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. It was intoxicating, but the faint distance allowed her other senses a chance to process the sound of approaching footsteps. Not in time to leave her lover's embrace, however, before they reached the doorway.

"Hey, Sweetheart— Drew Theodore P. Lipsky!"

It was Shego who moved first, putting a healthy space between them and leaving Drakken blinking and confused for a moment with his lips still parted before he had processed the voice that had spoken.

"M-Mother!" Drakken cried, darting behind Shego instinctively at the sight of his mother's judgmental expression.

"And no ring on her finger yet! For shame!"

Shego's face flushed as she was sure Drakken's was doing as well. That was a topic she definitely did not want to get into right then, and least of all with Drakken's mother who had her own agenda on the matter.

Mrs. Lipsky had opted for nicer attire for the evening as well, choosing a conservative charcoal sheath dress with a floral teal and peach floral sweater and pearls.

"Dr. D.," Shego said quickly, stepping away from the mad scientist and leaving him looking very exposed as he waved at his mother and attempted a weak smile through kiss-swollen lips. "Shouldn't you and your mother hurry to make your reservation on time?"

"Ahh...y-yes. But first," Drakken said, turning and nearly tripping over his feet as he hurried to pick up his mother's gift from the bed. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

The irritated crinkle at the older woman's eyes softened as her frown bloomed into a smile.

"Roses! And chocolate! Oh Drewbie, you shouldn't have!"

"O-Only the best for you, Mother," Drakken said as he presented the gift with a nervous smile.

"Marzipan! My favorite!" Mama Lipsky said after plopping one of the chocolates into her mouth.

"Of course! Now...Shego was right, we'd best get going," Drakken said. He began looking around for his suit coat, and then stopped short when he found Shego holding it up for him, a smirk on her face.

"Aw, she's so thoughtful Drew!" Mama Lipsky said, smiling fondly at Shego as she closed the chocolate box. "Dear, would you mind putting these in water for me until we get back?"

"Sure," Shego replied, smoothing Drakken's jacket over his shoulders.

She received the flowers from the woman a moment later, who squeezed her hand with a grateful smile before turning toward the door. Without the watchful gaze of older generation, Drakken turned worried eyes back upon Shego. All of his fears from the rambling of before were spoken in the inky blue of his irises, and Shego was tempted to give him a shove toward the door as a way of telling him to knock it off. Instead, she leaned in to let her lips graze his ear, speaking so softly she could hardly hear her own voice.

"She'll always have faith in you. Besides, you saved the world. You've accomplished more than she could have ever dreamed. Have some faith in her."

Shego felt again the release of tension from Drakken's frame as she adjusted the medal over his tie. She smirked again when he pulled away, the light of hope having returned to her lover's eyes.

"Coming, Drewbie?"

"Yes...yes, Mother," Drakken said and turned to go, confidence back in his stride.

Shego tilted her head down to smell the flowers as the two left. It was a strange new world they'd found themselves in since the invasion, but, some things would always be constants.

"Now, Drew, on the phone you'd said there was something you wanted to tell me...?"

[khrysopoeia]

I Have Saved All My Favors for Thee - Royai, royalty AU, ~1.5k, rated T

Riza is the newly named heir to the throne. Roy is an unimportant knight, just like he's always been.

Luckily, one of them doesn't care.

written for @ficwip's Valentines event

on AO3 or below

The crown suits her better than he thought it would. The king's crown, her grandfather's crown, is the same shade of gold as her hair, but the crown princess's is a paler shade, set with light blue gems and inlaid with mother of pearl. It suits her coloring beautifully. She's dressed simply otherwise, at least by court standards: a deep blue gown embroidered with flowers in a paler blue and yellow at the collar, cuffs and hem. Her wide girdle is green brocade with a pattern of Amestrian dragons and black foxes, the symbol of House Grumman. With her hair down to her shoulders and a simple necklace of pale gold links around her neck, she's the picture of royalty, and royalty also suits her. The woman Roy remembers, whose armor was plain steel without sigil or ornament, her hair cropped as short as a man's and her face as often bruised from battle as any of his band of hedge knights, looks very different below the throne room dais.

Roy knows he's looking at Sir Riza Hawkeye, even if her name and title have changed. He isn't going to do her the disservice of assuming the change in appearance is accompanied by a shift in personality. But he can't help feeling a trepidation he never has before. He watches the ceremony that officially makes her heir to the throne with a sinking feeling. Whatever comes now, things between them will never be the same.

When it's his turn to swear to uphold her place as rightful heit, he does as he's supposed to without reservation for once in his life. He takes a knee, he kisses her ring without brazenly staring her in the eye. He's her man, in a way he'll never be her grandfather's, but as high as he may yet climb beneath this new king, he'll never be her equal.

Princess Elizabeth Grumman does not do as she's supposed to. When a hedgeknight who was of no particular importance before the civil war and who has no particular power afterward kisses her ring, she puts a hand on his cheek, almost cradling his face in her hand. And Roy looks up at Riza, just for a moment, and sees the same affection in her eyes he saw when they parted months ago.

Maybe they're not done yet. Maybe.

Roy is in one of the grand corridors of the castle, looking for Lord Raven, the third of six men he needs to make sure he impresses in the next week. Those are the only lords he's willing to attach his band to. If he can't entice an offer out of any of them… well, he had been planning to set out for foreign lands with whichever of his men wanted to join him. He's pretty sure he's made enough of an impression on the Xerxian ambassador that he could get them a contract there, though it's hard to tell with Hohenheim. But that plan had come before the crown princess looked at him like she was still his closest companion, like they were still sworn to each other. That single look shouldn't be enough to make him so unsure. He should investigate, yes, but where could this even lead? To a place as her personal guards, probably. He doesn't think he could stand that, to be so close to her but so far apart in rank and status. Besides, the required oaths would lock him out of the kind of political power he wants. But he'd need to put the question to the others. It wouldn't be right to unilaterally deny them a comfortable post if it was offered.

Which it hasn't been. She looked at him and touched his cheek. He doesn't know what that means yet.

"Roy."

Her voice stops him in his tracks, but by the time he's turned to face her he has on an appropriate expression: respectful, but not actually neutral. He doesn't know who he is to her now, but the crown princess of Amestris has acknowledged him, and her entourage will expect a reaction.

Except there is no entourage. There's just her.

"Your royal highness?"

He doesn't mean for it to come out a question, but it does.

"Is what all I am to you now?" she says, and there's a hint of her old dry humor in her voice, and also a fragility he isn't used to.

He should reply. He should tell her that it's her decision, but do it in a way that suggests how useful he can be, maybe evokes their time together. Or he should say something witty that emphasizes how useful he's been to her grandfather's cause since they were separated. Or he should tell her no, how could she be? She could never be 'just' anything to him.

But he doesn't do any of those. He stands stock still, and he looks into the eyes of the woman he once thought he would spend his life beside, one way or another.

"Are we allowed to be anything but what we are now, Riza?" Her old name feels sweet on his lips, and he wonders if it will be the last time he speaks it.

And suddenly her gaze is steel and her fists are clenched by her sides. Her necklace and rings catch the sunlight streaming in through one narrow window. Even with her crown safely stowed away, she's wearing jewels worth as much as Roy's arms and armor put together. But her expression is familiar. It's the same one she always wore when she was waiting very, very patiently until they were alone, rather than chewing him out in front of the whole company.

"I'm the heir to the throne, Roy. The only direct descendant. I think I have some agency here."

She had been standing several paces away, maintaining the appropriate respectful distance. She closed that distance in three steps, and he had to hold himself back from laying a hand on her shoulder, or clasping her arm, or, gods help him, touching her on the cheek the way she had him only an hour past. He held still, but he held her gaze.

"Marry me," she said, and the words might as well be a guantletted fist to Roy's face.

"Don't be ridiculous." It came out without thought, and it came out angry, through clenched teeth.

It was the two things he wanted most in the world. As the crown princess's husband—as king consort, gods help him—he would have real power, be able to make real changes in Amestris. And he would have Riza. It was a possibility they had only ever whispered to each other once, the night before the battle that had separated them.

It was impossible, and she knew it. He turned away from her, protocol be damned, and started down the corridor.

How dare she? How dare she pretend we could—

She caught him by the wrist, tugged him back toward her.

"Don't walk away from me, Roy Mustang," she said still holding on to him. "I'm not an idiot. I know what I'm saying."

"Do you? You'd be throwing away the strongest diplomatic bargaining chip you have. A strategic marriage—"

"Roy. Do you really think I haven't thought this through?"

He didn't know. He wasn't letting himself consider it, or any other context, because the more closely he examined the offer the more it would hurt to walk away from her.

"The rest of my life is going to be dedicated to Amestris. Every decision I make from now on has to be for the good of the country. I want something, one thing, that's not for everyone else. I need one thing that's mine. I chose my marriage. I choose you."

And then she took a step forward and pressed her lips to his.

There were two things Roy Mustang wanted most in the world, bur in that moment he couldn't have told you what the first one was if his life depended on it. He leaned into the kiss, raised his hands to cradle her face. Her hand on his wrist dropped away, reappeared on the back of his neck pressing him further into the kiss. She parted her lips under his, an invitation he answered without hesitating.

When they finally pulled apart, flushed and breathless, he kept his hands on her face.

"Does the king know?" Roy said.

"He knows. This was one of my conditions for becoming his heir." She smiled at him, tucking an errand strand of hair behind her ear. "It will take some work to get him used to the idea, but I'm sure you're up to it, sweetheart."

She had never called him anything like that before. It has been a long time since anyone had.

"Sweetheart," he repeated back to her. "Riza."

And he pulled her close for another kiss.

[tapesofterror]

the softer faces of love

a fluffy jonmartin fic set in the scottish safehouse. true love is letting your partner give you their cold because you didn't want to leave them alone while they were miserable.

written for the hey, sweetheart event by @ficwip

[hollygl125]

Your Love Is Better Than Chocolate

@ficwip #hey sweetheart Insp. (❤) + (❤) + (❤)

[tammyghostal]

DEFINITELY not thinking of any mutuals while posting this.

[onthewaytosomewhere]

i've got you acting like you want more

my smutty submission for the @ficwip Hey, Sweetheart event

He stands in the shower, letting the water cascade over him and wash away the soap he used and the grime of his morning run. He is running his hands through his hair, making sure to get the conditioner throughout, eyes closed when the door to the shower behind him opens. He turns and smiles at Henry as he steps into the shower, sleep still clinging to him, eyes barely open. Alex pulls Henry to him and whispers, “Good morning, sweetheart,” smiling against Henry’s neck at his sleepy sigh. “What brings you out of bed already? I thought for sure you’d be there at least a few more hours since you didn’t get in until the wee hours of the morning.” Henry mumbles into his shoulder, “I turned over three different times, and you weren’t there; this time, I heard the shower and came to find you.” “Oh, so you came to lure me back to bed? I see how it is.” or a brownstone era pre-engagement the boys re-uniting after a week apart fic

big thanks to @magicandarchery & @england-would-fall for giving this lil thing a look over for me and making sure everyone's body parts stayed where they should lol💕

[inanejane]

TULIPS

SUMMMARY: Five years after the outbreak, the survivors are still managing themselves without the government. But wait, isn't Valentine's Day coming up? Ellis and Chris take it upon themselves to plant tulip seeds they found, and Chris surprises Rochelle with a gift. Now everyone wants flowers!

RATING: Teen and Up Audiences

WARNING: No Archive Warnings Apply

CATEGORIES: F/M , GEN

FANDOM: Left 4 Dead (Blind Man's Bluff)

RELATIONSHIPS: Rochelle/Chris, minor Nick/Ellis

ADDITIONAL TAGS: Fluff, Bickering, Valentine's Day, Flowers, Forged Family, Romance, Light-Hearted, East Coast

CHALLENGES: @ficwip hey sweetheart 2024, 100 ships, @fandom-free-bingo 'zombie au'

LINK: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53694817

Hey! I'm super excited to post this little valentine's day work for the lovely @ladyred-ms detailing Rochelle's and her OC, Chris', relationship. Thank you to @starrywriter917 for beta reading as well! It's just a quick little tidbit I was inspired to do and I sincerely hope you all enjoy it. <3

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

Ink it in on my skin, sign me up, make it last against the time

For my addition to the Hey Sweetheart event put on by @ficwip, I'm including my FirstPrince Valentine's Day fic! While there aren't any warnings associated with this fic, please do check the tags as well as the note at the beginning of the fic for mention of something that I wanted my readers to be aware of going in.

“Okay, then,” Alex says, and Henry can’t help but smile at the hint of mischief creeping into his voice, “there’s two weeks until Valentine’s Day. We each have that long to make it happen, and we’ll do a big reveal that night. Deal?” Flecks of gold are shimmering in his copper eyes. Henry leans forward, catching Alex’s lips to seal their accord. “Agreed.” OR Alex and Henry both decide to get tattoos.

And as always, thank you all for reading!