#i wrote a small ficlet just over this bc that’s how much it affects me the fact that mike smiles in pictures only when will is next to him

[messrsbyler]

imagine not even mike notices this. he just knows he feels uncomfortable whenever a camera is pointing at him, too exposed and seen, with that face people compare with a frog and his too long limbs and his freckles and just about everything he doesn’t like about himself. so, mike doesn’t smile. it’s just something that happens, something he doesn’t plan or notice.

so imagine his surprise when one day the entire party is going through old pictures and while mike is trying to stomach his discomfort max pipes up and stares at him with her too bright blue eyes.

“geez, wheeler. you really don’t like the camera, do you?” she mocks and mike flips her, though that only makes max smile more because of course it does. “how can you be frowning in each one of these?”

lucas snorts next to her staring at the picture his girlfriend is holding. “yeah, mike doesn’t like to smile in pictures.”

“he’s smiling in this one.” el mumbles and shows the rest her discovery.

mike’s face grows hotter and she wiggles on his spot in the floor, trying to make himself smaller. his shoulder knocks will’s and will knocks back. when mike lifts his gaze at him, will is smiling in that way that means ‘don’t worry about them’.

“wait, really?” it is dustin who lurches at el who yelps. a second later dustin is holding the pic and staring at it with wide eyes. “holly shit, you are right! mike is smiling here!”

“you are a bunch of assholes,” mike huffs with a frown. “it’s not like i never smile?”

he’s ignored completely.

“wait! he’s smiling in this one too!”

“and this one!”

“found another one!”

“hey! why are you only smiling in the pics you have with will only?” dustin shoots him a judging look. “not cool, man. way to play your favouritism.”

mike scowls and his face burns again. he’s suddenly hyper aware of will’s presence next to him, in how his body is slightly leaning onto him, with their knees brushing and his cologne lingering around mike’s space. he gulps and focuses on not staring at will.

“that’s not true!”

“but it is,” max says, showing him the pictures and yes, it might be true. “literally, you only smile when will is also in the picture. what’s with that?”

“i- well, i don’t- how would i know?!” if mike lifts his voice it’s only because he can barely hear himself above the drumming of his heart. hell, is it getting hot down here?

“dude, why are you so red?” lucas laughs.

“i’m not red!” mike quips back immediately.

“i didn’t mean you, idiot.” lucas rolls his eyes. “i meant will. but now that you mention it, you are red too.”

mike can’t help it, he whips his eyes to will and sees a lovely shade of red resting on his cheeks and neck. it is noticeable even in his slightly tanned skin, and even while will isn’t looking back at him, mike can tell the blush makes his hazel eyes a bit brighter. he… he has no idea how he knows that but that will be for future him to unpack.

“just-“ mike picks the skin around his nail and sighs. “just shut up and stop staring at my pictures, okay?”

“boring,” dustin says.

“yeah, yeah.”

once the rest is distracted with something else, now turning their attention to lucas weird and over the top posts, mike nips his lip and hesitantly knocks his shoulder with will’s.

one second, two seconds, three-

will knocks back.

mike smiles, though his heart keeps beating too fast and loud for his liking.

“mike wheeler never smiles for pictures”

interesting

very interesting…

[loth-wolffe]

hello there!

if you still doing song lyrics prompts, could you please do 33 and 46 with Crosshair? i..... just miss him.

if not - it's okay, luv u sm💙

Hi babyy!! I'm not taking requests at the moment bc i have a few queued that I need to work on,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, but since ur "i... just miss him" really broke me and tbh same, i wrote this quick lil ficlet for you. hope you like it bubs. love ya<3

Home again

Pairing: Crosshair x reader (no y/n)

Prompt: sOOO. i hope you don't mind i only used prompt 46. How can I miss you so much when you're right here? - Miss you so much by Miley Cyrus bc i didn't know how to tie them together heh.

Word count: 737

Warnings: uhhh none?

A/n: also it's NOT fair. it should be HIM missing YOU.

It wasn't easy, to see him come and go and leave you for what it felt like forever.

He would come, step into your apartment like it was his, like it was something he did every single day. Would put his armour in the little closet by the front door, to forget about what brought him there in the first place for a little while, a way to avoid the harshness of the war and all that came with it, to pretend he wasn't nothing more than a man that loved you and that wanted to be loved by you.

Crosshair's demeanor would always change when he crossed threshold of your door, showing his true colors as he waited for you to meet him; he'd be softer, lighter, somewhat more open. He looked more tired than what he showed when around his brothers, his shoulders slumped a bit, but he always seemed more relaxed, the safeness of your place was something he cherished the most, a little space for him to just be something more than what he was bred to be; not a soldier, not a brother, not a clone.

Just him.

"Crosshair?" Your voice is always soft when calling out for him, you appear from wherever you were hiding, the kitchen, perhaps. He looks at the clock that hangs high on your wall and notices it's around the time you make dinner.

He doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to as you walk towards him and in the blink of an eye you're flushed against him, wrapping him with your arms as he hides in the warmth of your neck, taking a deep breath as he drowns in the smell of you, of home. A sigh leaves his lips, content to be back and tears pick in his eyes as he fails to crawl away from the agonizing spiral of constantly missing you his aching heart always seems to be in, and he realizes how having you has done nothing but sunk him further.

It's as he unsuccessfully tries to keep tears at bay, that he wonders if it's possible to miss you even more now that he got you right in his grasp, than when he's away.

It must be.

Because as your fingers rasp against the small hairs of the nape of his neck, he feels you already slipping away. He holds back a sob, the beginning of a hiccup slips from his lips as the thought of not having enough time, there's never enough time, and he knows deep in his bones that you deserve so much better.

But Maker, he has missed you so much, the amount of times you had crawled into his thoughts with a stealthiness that only you knew how to hold against him was embarrassing, and it was even more how quickly his mind is filled with nothing but you. The times he had dreamt of you, with your kisses and your soft touch, could only match the number of stars that scattered in the blue skies.

And he got you just now, again, his favorite drink to taste as he could do it over and over, until he's drunk with your love like a madman, wanting to just know you and the feeling that you bring.

Home.

It all comes back to those four letters.

He squeezes you tighter, in an attempt to keep you closer, and Crosshair could spend the rest of his life like this, enveloped in your touch, in the tranquility you always bring with yourself, in the affection you give him and that he never wants to let go of.

"Hey," you murmur quietly when he finally pulls away from his hiding spot on your skin, he had dried the wild tears with the soft fabric of your shirt and he hoped you wouldn't notice.

Your eyes search for him as you tilt your head slightly, and his hands cup your cheeks like he was afraid you'd turn out to be an apparition of some sort, thumb brushing your skin as you shyly smile and worry settles between your eyebrows in a gentle frown.

"Everything okay?"

The sniper nods, a light movement as his eyes look at every little detail on your face, looking at the things that changed and the things that didn't with pursed lips and knitted brows.

He's got you, he thinks. And he's home.

Even if it's for a few days, everything's alright.

"It is now."

taglist:

@foodandbooksplease @dottiechan @ladykatakuri @tacticalsparkles @lightning-wolffe @hellothere-generalangsty @beskarprincessjenny @badbatch-simp24 @milppa @obi-bae-kenobi @rowansparrow @queencousland101 @dagobahbound @huntersbandana @baroclinicinstability @murdertoothpick @ahsoka1 @kybacrystal @smoldjarin @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @amaryllis23

you can join or leave the taglist ✨ here ✨

[drarryruinedme7]

Hello 💕 I’d like to request Draco increasingly growing jealous as Harry opens bday presents (bc he’s afraid Har won’t like his gift as much as others). Any era you’d like to write! Thank you 💕

Hi, my love, I hope you’ll like the small ficlet I wrote for this. ❤️Thanks for the prompt!!

Drarry | 1k | G | birthday presents, established relationship, fluffy fluff | beta: my darling @malenkayacherepakha

Private Business 

What the bloody hell do you give the Saviour of the Wizarding World for his fortieth birthday?? 

Draco stared helplessly at the shop windows of Quidditch Supplies. Harry fucking Potter had everything he wanted.

Every year hoards of fans and Quidditch teams and his coworkers in the Auror department, his friends, the entire Weasley family (and there were definitely too many of them in Draco’s opinion) would send Harry tons of gifts resulting in Harry having everything a man could think of.

With a sigh, Draco walked down the streets of Diagon Alley, trying to think of something clever.

They only started dating six months ago, the press had started leaving them alone barely a couple of weeks ago and Draco was now fully feeling the pressure of dating the Boy Who Lived.

After a useless and tiring walk, Draco went back home, panic rising in his chest. 

One’s fortieth birthday was something special, he couldn’t just give Harry a superficial thing! 

He took a deep breath to calm down: he still had one week. He could do it.

***

Oh, dear. Fucked. Draco was so fucked. 

They were all gathered around Harry in the garden of The Burrow. Draco shuddered as the sunset lightly kissed all of them in rosy-light. He would have never, ever, imagined himself enjoying a party at The Burrow, of all places. 

Certainly not for Potter’s birthday. Certainly not while all he could think was how beautiful the git was when he smiled with gratitude and sincere affection. 

Draco also didn’t expect to be sweating with anxiety while looking at Potter opening all his gifts. They were all simple things but Draco could tell they held a greater meaning which made Harry’s eyes water. 

Molly and Arthur gave him a portrait they commissioned of Albus, James and Lily laughing together; Hermione and Ron gave him a new tent with a note that Draco didn’t understand but Harry’s face split in a huge grin and he snorted when he saw the tent— there were dozens of other small things, and all of them made Harry snort or laugh or say “awww”: a carillon enchanted to play the songs that helped him when he was having nightmares after the War (Ginny’s gift), a book of recipes for his rediscovered passion for cooking (Neville’s)... 

His kids even planned to show him they had learned in secret how to perform a Patronus Charm all together and the party took a challenging and funny turn from that point on, with silvery thin animals running and zig-zagging all around. 

Oh, but did Draco want to disappear right there. When the gifts finally ended everyone looked at him and Draco prayed for the soil to open and swallow him whole, but that didn’t happen. 

He cleared his throat and felt heat rushing to his cheeks, surely showing a massive blush that not even the sunset light could hide. “Er.” He glanced at Harry who was looking at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “I… it’s, um, private,” Draco mumbled.

Oh, no.

Why.

The second he said it he knew how wrong, how filthy and dirty it sounded. There were kids around, for fuck’s sake, and what it looked like was that Draco had just told Harry’s entire family he bought him something sexual for his fortieth birthday.

Harry’s mouth dropped to form a comical ‘O’ while George snorted, breaking the tension in the air. In a matter of seconds, everyone was laughing and finally wandering around the garden, shooting him weird glances, smirks, someone even patting him on his arm (Charlie, with an accompanying ‘nice’). 

The worst thing of all is that after seeing all those presents, Draco really didn’t want to give Harry his own— he was sure it was inadequate and horrible and…

“So,” Harry murmured into his ear. When did he get so close to Draco, by the way?

“It’s private, mh?” He pressed his chest to Draco’s back and Draco distinctly felt Harry’s hard cock pushing against his thigh.

Great. So now Harry expected it to be something naughty and Draco would fail on every damn level with his birthday gift. 

“I just… I, er…” Draco gently disentangled himself from Harry’s embrace and turned to face him. “I think I fucked up, actually. I… if you want I can show you now, it’s in my pocket.”

Harry cocked his head with a smirk. “Oh yes, it is.” He hooked a finger in Draco’s belt loops and pulled him into a crushing kiss. 

Draco pulled out of it against his will, wanting to put an end to his agony. “No, seriously, you git!”

He took a steadying breath and fished a vial out of the pocket of his trousers. He handed it to Harry who took it with confusion written all over his face.

“It’s…” Draco straightened his shoulders, cleared his throat. “My memories… all the memories I’ve collected of you. But they’re not like standard Pensieve memories: they contain the feelings and the things I was thinking during those events too, so it will be like actually being in my head.”

Everything seemed to stop as he waited for a reaction from Harry. He was staring intently at the vial in his hands, so steady Draco wondered if he was breathing at all. 

When the silence was starting to be too dense, Draco felt compelled to talk, do anything to fill it. “I’m sorry, it sucks, I know. They all gave you these meaningful presents, but I… look, I don’t trust people easily, so I thought I—”

Whatever the rest of that sentence was, it got lost in the heat of Harry’s mouth, suddenly covering Draco’s. In a second, Harry’s body was flush against Draco’s and a smile made its way into their kiss. 

“You’re amazing,” Harry breathed on Draco’s lips. “Don’t you dare doubt it, this is the best gift you could have given me.” 

Draco finally took a breath of relief: maybe he hadn’t chosen so poorly, after all. 

[thefangirlingdead]

Prompt!! Dave (in modern time) not being used to affection in public bc obvs with his original time period. He eventually adjusts, but somebody makes a homophobic remark towards him and Klaus that sends him into a panic. Cue protective Klaus.

OH SHIT. I AM ALL ABOUT THIS. 

Here’s something that I intended to be a little Drabble but ended up being much longer. Let’s just say for the sake of this lil’ ficlet that the apocalypse never happened and Klaus has a little bit more control over his powers after his time in Vietnam. (also I wrote this while kind of day drunk on a Friday afternoon SO DON’T CRITIQUE IT TOO HARD)

“It’s a little different than the disco, huh?” Klaus asks, glancing back in Dave’s direction with a sly, wicked little grin. He’s pulling him by the hand through the vibrant, loud club, his voice barely audible over the thumping of the bass-heavy music, but the glint in his eyes accented in the neon lights.

Dave had been the one to suggest going out a few weeks ago, but Klaus knew that he didn’t anticipate this when he asked to see the types of clubs that Klaus frequented. And to think, this one is a little more tame than some of his other regular stomping grounds. This club in particular is actually rather small, the majority of the room taken up by a spacious dance floor and long bar that stretches from one end to the other. There’s a small balcony that overlooks the crowd, but Klaus rarely hangs up there. No, he’d rather be on the dance floor, letting loose, losing himself in the music, dancing with someone special. Someone like -

Dave. Dave, who pauses as Klaus drags him through the club, hesitating long enough that is catches Klaus’ attention and causes him to turn, shooting him a concerned gaze, head cocked just slightly to the side.

“You good?” he asks, just to make sure. Sometimes, the loud noises are rough. Sometimes, crowds can be too much. Even a few months past Vietnam, even a few months since Klaus brought Dave back to 2019, there are still some scars that run too deep, some battle wounds that still need healing. He gets it, because he feels them too.

So when Dave pauses, pulling Klaus’ arm taut, Klaus is quick to check in with him, to make sure he’s okay.

“Yeah,” Dave assures with a nod, but Klaus doesn’t miss that it seems like he’s trying to convince himself. “Yeah I’m good, I just - I’m not used to… this.” Dave motions between himself and Klaus, then, at the junction of their hands, and Klaus quickly understands. In return, he offers Dave a gentle smile, taking a few steps toward him to close the gap between their bodies and get close enough to speak over the thumping music.

“Hey…” he murmurs gently, and for a split second, they’re the only two people in the club. Dave is the only person who matters, and Klaus is determined to make him feel comfortable. Sure, Klaus wants to share this part of his life with Dave, but he also wants to make sure Dave has fun. If he isn’t enjoying this, they can leave. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he assures, “If you’d rather go somewhere else, do something a little more low-key, that’s cool too.”

“No,” Dave insists with a shake of his head, offering Klaus a tight, reassuring smile, even as Klaus laces their fingers together, one hand reaching up to brush a stray curl from his forehead. “No, I want to - I mean, you wanted to come here and -”

“And it doesn’t matter what I want,” Klaus insists, “We’re not staying here if you’re not comfortable.”

Dave swallows, but he doesn’t balk away from Klaus’ intimate touch, nor his searching eyes. “No I’m - it’s just… an adjustment, is all,” he says at last, “I know you keep saying things are different now, but it’s just hard to believe sometimes, you know?”

“I know,” Klaus agrees. His hand drifts, thumb brushing Dave’s cheek, fingers tickling the short hairs at the back of his neck. “And I know I seem to have a pretty blasé attitude about everything, but I promise, we’re safe here.”

Then, with a smirk, Klaus adds, “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen people practically fucking on this dance floor before. We’ll be okay. I promise.”

And finally, Dave cracks a smile, rolling his eyes at Klaus’ words. “Well, I’m not trying to -”

“Hey, how about we just see where the night takes us…” Klaus teases with a wink. “Do you want to get a drink?”

And that’s how Klaus and Dave end up about three drinks deep, dancing close together among a swirling mass of bodies on the dance floor to some song that Klaus loves and Dave has certainly never heard before. It takes a little bit for him to fully come out of his shell, but once he does, he seems like he’s in his element, hands on Klaus’ hips, lips just brushing his on the dance floor. That’s how Klaus ends up winding his arms around Dave’s shoulders, leaning forward to press a passionate kiss to his lips and that’s how, ten minutes later, Klaus ends up pressed against the wall in the hallway near the bathrooms, arms pinned above his head, Dave hard against him, uncaring of whoever might see.

“Now that’s more like it,” Klaus murmurs in between kisses, a smirk spread across his face before their lips crash together again and god, when he first met Dave, the sweet little momma’s boy, the same man who actually asked before kissing him for the first time, he never thought he’d find himself here, pinned up against the wall of a club, getting the life kissed out of him.  But here they are, Dave easily pressing both of his wrists together against the wall with one hand, the other sturdy on his chest, Klaus struggling to keep his composure, struggling not to drag Dave into the bathroom and have his way with him.

They’ve come a long way since they first met, since they first realized that the feeling was mutual, and Klaus wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s already a miracle that Dave agreed to take the leap and come here with him, that they managed to survive this long, so Klaus can’t help the way he kisses Dave back as if he’ll disappear any second, as if he’s surprised that he’s still holding onto him, forgetting the world around them for a few moments and just focusing on Dave.

So it’s no surprise that Klaus doesn’t notice the group of men approaching them, that he doesn’t register their jeers and hateful slurs until they’re a little too close for comfort. And then, just as fast as he’s there, Dave is gone. With his attention focused on Dave - his lips, his hands, his body - Klaus doesn’t notice when some stranger purposefully shoulder-checks him as they come out of the bathroom. He doesn’t notice until they’re shoving Dave backwards and Klaus hears the end of some insult hurled at him -

“…fucking faggot.”

“Sorry -” Dave starts to mutter, but not before Klaus is moving, acting on instinct, his emotions taking over.

Klaus takes a step in front of Dave, putting his arm out as if to stop him from moving. “No, don’t be sorry,” he bites, loud enough for the stranger to hear him over the loud thumping of the club’s music, “This asshole should be sorry!”

And the stranger, the guy who Klaus didn’t even see because he’d been too busy kissing Dave, turns on his heel, eyes narrowed in Klaus’ direction, a smirk spread across his ugly fucking face.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

The man (and his two friends) steps forward, but just as he does, Klaus moves on instinct, acting before he thinks. He reaches a hand out, clenching it into a fist and the stranger freezes in place.

“I said,” Klaus growls, “That you should be sorry.”

The man’s expression quickly changes from anger to horror, his features transforming in the blink of an eye. And while Klaus despises using his powers like this - he only did it once or twice in Vietnam and it was awful - he doesn’t even hesitate when it comes to Dave.

“What are you doing to me, you freak?” The stranger cries, his voice terrified, strained. He tries to move, but Klaus keep him in place.

“You might want to watch what you’re saying,” Klaus mutters, voice barely audible over the sound of the music, but he knows that the man hears him. He knows, and with a slight flick of his wrist, the stranger is falling to his knees, unable to control his own body.

And god, Klaus hates his powers sometimes, but right now, it feels right. It feels just. Because shit, it’s 2019, and this idiot shouldn’t be talking to him and Dave like that, because this asshole deserves to learn a lesson.

But then, Dave’s voice is cutting through the noise in Klaus’ head, and the moment is broken.

“Klaus…” Dave sounds worried, he sounds upset, and the sound of his name on his lover’s lips breaks his concentration, it has his concentration breaking and the stranger scrambling to his feet and scurrying away without another word.

It isn’t until he’s gone that Klaus registers the gentle hand on his arm, the soft voice in his ear. “Klaus, I’m right here, come back to me -”

And Klaus shakes himself out of it, coming back down into his body, back to earth.

“Fuck,” Klaus mutters, shaking his head before he turns back to Dave, “Sorry, I just got carried away and -”

He stops speaking, however, when he spies the wide-eyed look on Dave’s face, just on the verge of panic, and -

“Oh shit,” Klaus gasps, reaching forward to touch Dave gently, pulling him close. He knows that look, because he’s seen it on himself before, has seen it in the mirror, just on the verge of a breakdown, and god, he hates seeing it on Dave, but he’s not surprised.

Without thinking, Klaus grabs Dave by the arm and pulls, dragging him into the nearby bathroom, away from the gaze of onlookers and away from the loud music pulsing throughout the club. And shit, Klaus doesn’t have any excperience in dealing with something like this - hell, he’s not even quite sure how to deal with it on his own - but he assumes that Dave needs a quiet space, that he doesn’t need to chaos of the club or the audience of strangers. If it were Klaus, he’d want quiet, so he tries to find that for Dave, secluded in the bathroom, alone, even if just for a few moments.

Whenever Klaus has dealt with the panic that he currently sees in Dave’s eyes himself, he’s only ever seen it in the mirror, staring right back at him. He’s never seen it on someone else, and honestly, it’s kind of terrifying. He doesn’t know what to do, but he tries to stay level headed for Dave.

He doesn’t know quite how to comfort someone, so Klaus lets them both slump to the ground, his hands hovering just over Dave’s arms, unsure of what to do. When he reaches out to touch, though, Dave jerks back, as if Klaus’ touch burns, and Klaus suddenly understands. Or, well, he thinks he does.

“Shit. Shit, shit,” Klaus mutters, backing up slightly where he’s crouched on the ground, hands raised in a placating gesture, as if to say he means no harm, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, back there. I just - they can’t just talk to you like that and -”

“No,” Dave croaks out at last, shaking his head. His voice is breathless, barely there, just on the verge of a panic attack, but it sounds like a scream to Klaus’ ears. He reaches forward, gripping Klaus’ wrist before he can pull away fully, stopping him in place, “No, Klaus. That’s not it. I just - it reminded me of back… before we met, I was out with a guy once and - I - we -”

Oh. Oh.

“Ooooh. Shit,” Klaus mutters, sitting back on his heels at the realization of what Dave’s words imply.

He’s been through this before. He thought he was safe, and the same fucking thing happened.

Klaus isn’t dense. He knows what Dave means, and it’s insane, seeing someone like Dave, such a strong person, such an adept fighter, a fucking soldier reduced to this because of some shitty, homophobic comments from some stranger, because of something that happened to him in the past. Because of that fucking world, and close-minded assholes and the 60’s… and shit, Klaus had been the one to convince him that he was safe here, and look what happened.

“Fuck,” Klaus mutters again, “I’m sorry, Dave. I shouldn’t have pushed you into this, I -”

But Dave is quick to interrupt Klaus before he can finish his thought. “No,” he repeats, “It’s not you. Shit, Klaus, it’s not you. It’s just… a lot, is all. I know things are different now, but it’s still hard, hearing that and -”

And Klaus doesn’t let Dave finish before he’s pulling him close, embracing Dave on the floor in some shitty club bathroom, and fuck anyone who can see them like this, open and vulnerable and helplessly in love.