#las lift services

[bruderherzlove]

 LIFT FLOMARY- L'une des meilleures entreprises de location de lift à Bruxelles et en Belgique

 LIFT FLOMARY- L'une des meilleures entreprises de location de lift à Bruxelles et en Belgique ! 🏗️

Chers amis bruxellois et belges,

Nous sommes ravis de vous annoncer que LIFT FLOMARY est l'une des meilleures entreprises de location de lift à Bruxelles et en Belgique ! 🌟

Si vous avez besoin d'un lift pour vos déménagements, travaux de construction ou tout autre projet nécessitant un accès en hauteur, nous sommes là pour vous fournir un service de qualité et fiable. 💼✅

Nos équipes expérimentées et professionnelles sont prêtes à répondre à tous vos besoins en matière de levage. Nous disposons d'une large gamme de lifts adaptés à différentes hauteurs et charges, afin de vous offrir des solutions personnalisées. 🚀🔝

Chez LIFT FLOMARY, nous accordons une grande importance à la sécurité et à la satisfaction de nos clients. Notre matériel est régulièrement entretenu et contrôlé, afin de garantir un fonctionnement optimal. Votre projet est entre de bonnes mains ! 🛠️🔒

N'hésitez pas à nous contacter dès aujourd'hui pour obtenir un devis gratuit ou pour toute demande d'information supplémentaire. Nous sommes là pour vous aider à réaliser vos projets en toute tranquillité. 📞💼

Faites confiance à LIFT FLOMARY, votre partenaire de confiance pour tous vos besoins en location de lift à Bruxelles et en Belgique. 🤝🏢

[camryn-haitani]

I know darling

Colby Brock x Fem!Reader

you sent Colby a lengthy paragraph about all the things you want him to do to you. and he makes everything you sent come true

TW: Dom Colby, p in v sex, fingering (Fem receiving), teasing, video masterbation (from Colby), mentions of Sam joining and watching, face fucking (Fem receiving), fingering, name calling "love, baby, angel, sweetheart, good girl, good bitch, pretty girl, bitch, whore, slut", praise and degradation, cursing, video during it, aftercare, plot twist

I am a firm believer that Colby is into face fucking

- - - - - - - - - - -

once I started texting the words I wanna say, they wouldn't stop coming. once I felt like I said enough to get him going, I sent it along with a spicy pic of me in his favorite lingerie. and now I wait for his response.

Colby POV

That was one of the scariest things we've ever caught on camera. me, Kris, and Sam decided we had enough and packed up to go home. we all get in the car and wait for the long car ride home.

once we get into a town, I finally have service and I get a shit ton of notifications. the one that caught my eye was the one y/n sent. I see she sent a long paragraph along with a photo. I was expecting a message about how much she misses me. holy shit I was wrong.

what I'm reading is the most spine chilling, boner inducing, and cock throbbing thing I've ever read. the more I read, the more hard I get. I grab my xplr hoodie and cover my lower half, not wanting Sam to see my boner.

we still have a 3 hour car ride back to LA, I'm not gonna make it that long. my breath get harsh and fast. Sam notices and says something. "hey man, you good?" he asks as he hits my arms. "yeah uhm I'm good, just thinking about the stuff that happened earlier."

I'll give it an hour and see if it goes away.

*an hour later*

well it's been an hour and I still have a boner. I roll my eyes and try to think of an excuse.

"hey Sam uh pull over to a gas station, I uhm have to piss" I lie. "I got you man" Sam pulls over to a gas station and I quickly run out of the car and into the bathroom. I sigh as I pull down my pants when an idea popped in my head.

I pull out my phone and start recording.

*a little while later*

I finish and clean myself up as i send the video to y/n.

me: video

me: I hope you enjoy this love

Y/n POV

I hear my phone buzz and I open it without hesitation. I see he sent a video and I watch it from beginning to end.

me: can't wait for you to get home daddy~

I know that name gets him going and I wanna see what happens. not even 5 minutes later, I get another text from him.

colbs<333: god you have no idea what you do to me, angel. when I get home, you better have my favorite outfit on with your head hanging off the side of the bed<3

me: yes sir<33

since I have his location, I can see how far away he is. he's about an hour and a half away from home, so when he gets about 10 minutes away from home, I'll do what he says.

*an hour and a half later*

I get more and more excited when I watch his icon get closer and closer to our house. I decide to get changed into his favorite lingerie and lay down on the bed.

I hear the door open and I hear stuff slam on the ground with fast foot steps coming up the stairs. I quickly put my head off the side of the bed just like he said. the door swings open and I see him with lustful eyes eating me alive.

"goddamn angel, you look gorgeous" he walks closer to me. his rough, calloused hands run all over my body as he ogles me. every movement he makes on my body, I twitch with anticipation.

he plays with my tits as he runs his fingers over my nipples over the lingerie as a whimper elicits from my mouth. I feel his boner on my cheek in his pants, wanting to be let out. I lift my hand up to caress his cock. I wrap my hand around it and barely squeeze it. he groans as he steps back to free his aching cock.

"you ready, princess?" he asks as he places his cock on my lips. I nod vigorously and open my mouth, spit already coating his leaking tip.

"just tap my thigh if you can't breathe" he reassures. I nod as he taps his cock on my tongue a few times before shoving his cock in my throat. I gag but then get used to it.

I let him use my throat for whatever he needs. there's pre-cum and saliva dripping down my chin and my mouth.

his thrusts get more harsh. 'hes about to cum' I think to myself. "gonna.... fuck.. close.." he mutters. he can't even pronounce words. I grab his waist and pull him further into my mouth. "fuck!" he yells, unknowingly I was going to do that.

I feel his cum drip down my throat and chin. I sit up and gather his cum and put it back in my mouth. he does the same with my spit.

his eyes widen for a second, like he has an idea. he pulls out his phone and starts recording.

"oh Sam would love this, wouldn't he?" he teased his fingers on my slit. I can only nod, my mind is cloudy and my eyes dizzy with pleasure. "I need words, pretty girl." he says, curling his fingers up in me. "yes! he would love seeing me like this!" I yell. Colby chuckles at my words.

"seeing you like this. being such a slut for me." his fingers get more and more quick. I know that him and Sam have done something like this in the past, but Sam watching me is so erotic to me.

"go ahead and tell the camera how much of a slut you are. for me and Sam. go on bitch."

"fuck Sam, I want you in me. I want you and Colby to fuck me so hard it hurts to walk. please Sam" I beg with pleasing eyes.

"good bitch" his fingers get more aggressive and he can tell I'm getting close.

he rips his fingers out of me as I'm about to cum. "w-what... why.. please, I want it... wanna cum for you" I plead into the camera.

he grabs my cheeks "only good sluts get to cum. this is what you get for getting me hard in the car. you knew I was with Sam and yet, you still did it. it's like you wanted Sam to know." he coos.

"yes! I wanted Sam to know! I want you both to fuck me!" I whine.

"that's what I thought, you whore" he lines up his cock and slides it up and down my wet folds.

"daddy please I need you." I beg. "fine, only because I'm so fucking hard for you" he rams his cock into me without a second thought.

"why don't you tell Sam what you want him to do to you, hm?" Colby teases. "want.... want you to fuck my face while Colby e-eats me out" my hands cover my face in embarrassment.

he rips my hands from my face "I think Sam would wanna see your pretty face as I fuck you." he pins my hands above my head as he slides his cock in and out of me.

his pace gets faster and his rhythm gets sloppy. my legs wrap around his waist, wanting him closer in me.

he apparently liked that because I feel him twitch in me. "fuck... gonna cum in your pretty pussy, huh? you want me to cum in you, fucking slut"

"shit..... yes yes yes please." I beg more.

his final push in me makes me unravel the knot in my stomach. my back arches as my legs tighten around his waist.

his breath slows as he picks himself up and goes to our bathroom. he runs a washcloth under water and comes back to clean us up.

Colby wore a smirk on his face that I couldn't see. "hey baby, can you get the cameras from downstairs please? I wanna edit some footage from earlier"

"yeah sure" I struggle to go downstairs but I make it through

I turn the corner and there he is…

Sam

he was downstairs this whole time

"uhm uhh... hi?"

"hello beautiful" he says as he stands up and walks towards me. he puts a finger under my chin and makes me look at him "you sounded lovely up there. calling out for me. I hope you meant every word up there because I plan on making those things true. " he whispered in my ear.

his phone goes off. "I wonder what this is" he says sarcastically. he pulls up the video Colby took of me. "I hope I make you sound like this" he kisses your neck and walks out the door.

“fuck”

- - - - - - -

this has been in my head for a looooong time

[rassvetsky]

would literally lose my fucking mind if you wrote carmy like touch starved, idk maybe everyone is staying after to celebrate something and he’s dragging you into his office to eat you out with absolutely zero shame because he needs it so bad

your wish is my lifelong quest i love you, hope i did it at least some justice loml

Carry You Away With Me

carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader

He looked sheepish for a moment, lips curling into a grin for another split second before returning to his natural expression, eyes finding yours and locking you into his gaze. "Do you think anyone would notice if I took you elsewhere right now?"

[4k] | chef ill be honest with you this is just porn, needy!carmy (he's fucking adorable), office sex if that's even a term, established relationship, cunningulus, unprotected sex, cum-play. my apologies to the church

reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.

It was around 11 when you returned to the restaurant with a bottle of champagne cradled in your arms, watching as Gary and Tina pushed a few tables together to make a bigger one for the rest. Eating together wasn't a rare occurrence, but it often only happened an hour before service in the morning— dinners were mostly had at home or skipped altogether, depending on the importance one put into their health. But tonight called for an after-hours get-together, one that Sydney and Marcus pushed for when Ebraheim showed up in the morning with the latest issue of Gastronomica, featuring a very familiar name this time around— Carmen Berzatto.

"You know— I bet you can like, make it to a Vogue issue sometime later on, too."

"That's not exactly food-related."

"I'm just saying, dream high and—"

The few clinks of a spoon against the glass cut Fak right off and Carmen made a mental note to thank god for that later on, his gaze lifting from the long, full table that everyone was surrounding to the source of the sound; the now-empty champagne glass that Richie held.

"Can we all take a moment to stop stuffing our faces with this whatever-the-fuck it is to congratulate my cousin right here?" he spoke up, bringing a smile to your lips as you reached for Carmen's hand from under the table and muttered out "chou à la crème", another dish that Marcus had been experimenting with lately. A short chuckle left Carmen's lips when he vaguely heard what you said, and he gave your hand a firm, appreciative squeeze before rubbing his thumb along the back of your palm. "Gastronomica isn't just any magazine. I think it's supposed to be one of the good ones, like—"

"—the Vogue of food!"

"Maybe! Who knows, anyway— really, I'm proud of this mess of a man and you all should be, too." and maybe this was the most affection that Richie could whip out in public, but it was more than enough— because despite his hate for having the spotlight directly on him, Carmen was currently busy offering a smile to Richie, which the other reciprocated shortly before sitting back down, his quiet little hum of affection drowned out by the mutterings of 'cheers' along with the clink of everyone's glasses.

Proud was an understatement for this little dysfunctional found-family.

But you knew Carmen, you knew that he'd much rather skip on the compliments and pats to the shoulder; and you were way too sure that he'd need a moment to himself sooner or later. That moment came almost fifteen minutes after, when everyone split themselves into a few groups of completely different conversations, scooped up chocolate sauce and cream and small pieces of the delicate pastry got left behind on the empty plates— you felt Carmy's fingers wrapping around your upper thigh, concealed by the dimmed out lights and the table.

"S'up?" you returned your attention to him upon feeling his fingers tapping along to some nonexistent rhythm on your clothed skin, not too invested in the story Richie was busy telling everybody with the loudest voice he could muster to begin with.

He looked sheepish for a moment, lips curling into a grin for another split second before returning to his natural expression, eyes finding yours and locking you into his gaze. "Do you think anyone would notice if I took you elsewhere right now?"

"Elsewhere?"

"Not too far, jus' my office. For a couple of minutes at most." he leaned in closer to your ear just so you could hear him over the 2012's pop playlist Manny whipped out earlier, a completely mesmerizing turn of events when he started singing along to a random Katy Perry song— but that leaning closer action proved Carmen to be just another self-saboteur because he was feeling specifically out of place all day and to feel your perfume so close was a pull with a force out of this world. He couldn't pull back away then, couldn't return to his own chair and you had no choice but to push him away manually. "I promise."

"Any ulterior motives I should be aware of?" you grinned, letting your fingers curl right over his own on your thigh— and making a mental note to ease him into the habit of using hand moisturizers regularly sometime, upon the roughed up feel of his skin.

"You wound me, baby." his expression seemed to linger over offense, but his eyes told a completely different story; and before you knew it, he was pushing his chair back to get up, patting Gary's shoulder on his way to the back of house, a momentary turn of his head just so he could silently tell you to follow with his eyes.

And that, you did, despite the raised eyebrows of Richie's that you met along the way.

The kitchen smelled like a different kind of citrus, one that only belonged in dishwashing detergents as you maneuvered through the stations, cleaned up from the day's worth of filth. From your peripheral vision, you noticed Carmen reaching behind to undo the strings of his navy apron, leaving out the top string that he'd have to pull over his head until you could catch up and he could get to the office. His shirt was, again, as pristine as ever and it was a work of magic how he managed to come back home with a perfectly clean white t-shirt each day, if not for a few little drops here and there.

Finally, he pushed open the door of his office for you and you stepped in, finding your way to his desk in the darkness to flip the switch of the small light that illuminated the paperwork mostly. When your eyes found him again, the apron was long gone— tucked away in a corner, folded, although not so neatly. "Happy now?"

Instead of a reply, he just plopped down on the old, squeaky chair by the desk, thighs spread and arms wide open to make space for you. You took the offer right away, seating yourself on one of his thighs but still balancing yourself on your feet too, in order to not just dump your whole body weight on him and potentially numb out his leg. He couldn't care less, as he wrapped himself around you tightly and pulled you closer. "I don't really give a shit about Gastronomica."

"I figured," you mumbled against the material of his shirt, lungs filling in with a scent that only he could carry— a surprisingly pleasant mix of cigarettes, sweat, and gravy. It belonged to him, at least. "When's the last time you gave a shit about anyone's opinion outside of here, anyway?"

A soft hum left his lips, one that feigned agreement— but he wasn't paying much attention to what you've been saying to begin with, mind all muddied with specific moments in time that included you. Come to think of it, he'd been like this all day, even when Richie jokingly smacked him across the face with the magazine or when Tina elbowed him while he was trying to explain why she had to strain the mixture twice to get a flowing consistency— on the back of his mind, there was always you; always the lack of time he got to spend with you when the rush hour got too much to bear and he couldn't bring himself to lift an arm when he came back home to you.

When was the last time he properly touched you, took his time to memorize all the little ridges and beauty spots across your body, he couldn't remember.

So as you spoke, listing out all the reasons why he should be proud of himself for all the accomplishments, Carmen's arm curled around your waist and his fingers found your thighs again, the warmth of his palm seeping through the material of your leggings and from the way they teased upwards, you knew where this was going. "... that you managed to turn— are you not listening?"

His smile was so smug that you wanted to either kiss, or slap him. "Not really. But go on."

"Carmy, if you actually think that I'll do anything non-churchy with you here while everyone's literally twenty feet away, you're so wrong." you breathed out, because that's all you could do when his lips ghosted over the side of yours, before trailing down to where your jawline met your neck. He only hummed as a reply, clearly not giving a shit about your opinion either at that moment— but to say that you weren't enjoying the attention would be a blatant lie.

His fingertips traced the seams outlining your underwear through the extra layer of fabric while his lips latched to your neck, finally, with his warm breath hitting against the sensitive skin and the usual wet nature of his kisses leaving behind a glistening spot of adoration. You leaned into it, rather shamelessly— legs parting and fingers carding through the locks on the nape of his neck, and that only encouraged him further, causing him to whisper out a curse and a few sloppy words of praise. "Just let me, hm? Please?"

The sense of desperation in his tone was enough to push back any words of disagreement that you could blurt out at that moment. You knew you had to power through, it would be so embarrassing and disrespectful to let him have his way with you right here, while everyone else was still at the FOH— but the way his palm covered your clothed core and his fingertips teased the slight outline of your slit, all while his pretty lips were oh so busy whispering absolute filth in your ear was slowly taking away all the care you had in the world. "Carm— not a good idea."

"You weren't saying that last week, right here," two weeks ago, to be exact, but you couldn't blame him for not being able to tell time apart. "Had to cover your mouth and all, s'loud for me—"

"You're getting carried away." you chuckled, the deepest of breaths still not enough for the capacity of your lungs as you tugged on his locks slightly, prying him off of your skin just so you could get a look at him.

"Let me carry you away with me. Please, fuck— I can't think of anything else when you're on my mind." he pulled away a little from your neck, eyes of pristine skies staring right at your soul with the expression of a kicked puppy— he knew exactly how to get his way when he was miserable like that. His fingers were still against your heat, expecting permission. "Ten minutes only, just let me touch you."

You could recognize that tone, that incurability way too well— it was often reserved for nights shared between hushed whispers of promises, where he was too needy to form a single thought and all he could do was to cover your body with his and curl onto you, to feel your warmth against himself and to be one body and one soul for an hour. Uncommon in nature, even rarer to take place in a room that he reserved for professional affairs only— but the heart wants what it wants.

To his surprise, you suddenly pushed your lips against his— letting his fever take over you as well, with your hands clutching onto his shoulders and hair. You could hear the slight groan escaping his lips when his fingers breached under the tight waistband of your leggings, pushing the material down slightly with the bend of his wrist before turning his hand a little to tug it all downwards, urging you up on your feet. You got up from where you were seated, now standing between his legs with your back bent just so your lips would be on his, but he broke the kiss with a smile that took over when he finally pulled down both articles of clothing at the same time. Your back straightened when he managed to push them both down to your ankles, your hands on his shoulders to help with your balance as you stepped out of them, feeling his moist lips over your abdomen for a second before he pushed you backwards slightly, towards the desk.

He took that momentary advantage to get up on his feet and pin you right in between his own body and the desk, hands blindly pushing the loose folders to the side. You felt too exposed when his palms gripped the underside of your thighs just to prop you up on the desk, lips finding and panting against yours, a clear indication of his need seeping through the way he tugged and nibbled before his tongue found its way to caress yours.

There was nothing nice about it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care— not when he whispered your name against the plush of your lips so sweetly when your fist closed around his hair, not when he didn't even know what to do with his hands; grabbing, fondling at every inch of your skin that he could reach shakily. He pulled you flush against his body, letting you get a feel of the harsh dark denim against your bare center and you had to bite into his lower lip to stay quiet, ultimately earning a groan from him when his hands slipped under your shirt.

"Bear," you whispered out, his lips chasing yours when you pulled away to speak— which made you chuckle quietly, as he looked at you again. "Ten minutes."

"Ten minutes," he parroted, the usually wide eyes of his now hooded, pupils blown out as if he was looking right at the sun. When you reached in to kiss him again, you couldn't catch him fast enough— he was already holding onto your thighs to crouch down, looking up at you with a Cheshire grin when you spread your legs a little further apart, a force of habit.

Leaning back on your palms against the desk as much as the cramped space could allow, you took a deep breath— but it wasn't enough to prepare you for what came next when his tongue trailed a bold line across your slit, spreading your folds apart gently. It was a pleasant routine, one that you never quite got used to; because when he was down on his knees with his tongue tracing abstract shapes across your clit in a teasing manner, it was all about you and to think that a guy who often rushed things and went through life at a 2x pace would slow down just to put all of his attention on your pleasure only was more delightful than any compliment one could attain.

Carmen's fingertips were perhaps digging into the skin of your thighs a bit too hard, but could you possibly complain? The tip of his tongue dipped between your folds to spread your essence upwards, a mix of his saliva and your wetness covering your clit when he closed his lips around it and sucked— letting out a blissed groan, one that he'd scold you for if you were the culprit. You could only imagine how hard he must've been at that moment, he was always a sucker for situations like this, with the thrill of doing something so forbidden, right where he could be caught and your taste on his tongue, thighs on either side of his shoulders.

Imagining it didn't help your situation at all, it was hard to focus on one coherent thought when he kept flicking his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves but you forced through— with the thought of the blunt tip of his length all flushed and leaking in your palm, curses leaving his soft lips whenever your fingers got a bit too tight around the girth. He liked it when you put your focus there, tip of your tongue tracing the slit and leaving kisses over it while the rest of your palm jerked him off— firm and slow.

And you'd always let your lips stray when he got close, deciding to suddenly bite into the skin of his inner thighs or to lightly trace his perineum with your tongue, just to have him reduced to a writhing, whining mess with not enough air to survive in his lungs. He'd spill onto your fingers and you'd clean him up right away, moving your way upwards with wet little kisses until you reached his lips. And he was one dirty fucker because tasting himself on you when you kissed him all sloppily was probably one of his favorite things in the world.

Drowned out in all the thoughts, you didn't notice how close you were until your thighs were shaking around his shoulders, and he finally added his fingers into the mix then— his middle and ring fingers easily breaching through, grazing all of your sensitive spots from the inside. You had to press your palm against your mouth to not let a sound then, when your climax finally hit you, and you'd probably slide right off the table with how quaky your whole body was at that moment if it wasn't for Carmen's strong grip on your body, holding you right where you belong.

The position was a bit merciless on his legs so far but he made it up to his feet again, giving you a light peck on your lips before his fingers found his mouth, his tongue circling the digits to clean them up as he stared right at you, into your soul. He pulled them out with a slight pop, and licked his lips clean. "How long did we take?"

"I don't know," you panted out. "I was busy imagining the way you come."

His light laughter brought a tender, yet bittersweet ache to your heart. "Fuck, you get off to that?" and you could tell him all about just how beautiful he was, and how much it turned you on to see him blissed out in pleasure— but you didn't know if your lung capacity allowed for it at that moment, as being quiet came with the benefit of holding your breath for longer than you should. "Tell me more."

You giggled against his lips when he braced himself on the desk with his two hands holding onto the edge on both sides of your thighs. Both of your hands moved down to the front of his pants, too fucked out to care about timing as you palmed him through the material just to see that grin on his lips falter. "I'm gonna make you jack off and watch sometime." you mumbled, slowly pulling the zipper down after setting him free from the belt and the button. He hummed, forehead to forehead, before reaching for another little peck.

"As much as I don't see why I should jack off while you're in front of me," he spoke, a sharp intake of breath cutting his line of thought halfway through when your fingers finally wrapped around his cock. "but— shit, if you're into that… Only if you do it w'me, though. I wanna watch too."

"You don't get to watch." you sighed, bringing him closer with your legs to line his length up with your entrance. "You're just gonna sit there and come on your hand like a loser."

Carmen couldn't help the short snort that left him. "Are you even capable of being mean to me?"

"Mm-hm, I'm very mean when I wanna be." and right after that, his tip slid right into your cavern, pulling a deep exhale from both of you when he pushed a bit deeper. His lips found yours, mostly to keep the noises at bay while his hips rolled into yours, grinding against you before retreating a little, only to push in harder this time around.

You felt so full and blessed that you didn't even have to imagine anything to get lost in the feeling.

His pants slid further downwards with each thrust until they pooled around his ankles and your thighs wrapped tighter around his body, trapping him in. His arms were so delicately wrapped around your waist that you had to hold onto him with your whole remaining power to not slide further towards the wall, but he couldn't exactly notice that when he was feeling so damn lucky, whole length wrapped in a warmth beyond his comprehension.

And again, you couldn't blame him, because neither of you managed to notice when the skin slapping against skin got a bit too loud, and your lips pulled away from his just to breathe out the filthiest little nothings, like how much you needed him to fill you right up to the brim. "Fuck, give it to me." your hips met his thrusts half-way through when you pushed yourself against him. "Carmy, come inside me, please."

"Yeah? Are you gonna take it all?" his voice sounded broken, and his fingers would surely leave imprints on your hips with how tight his grip was. "Won't let you waste a drop, baby. I won't."

Somehow, through how feral he was with the way you were begging him, the responsible side came forward and captured your lips in his again— because while his team was full of respectful people, they were also little shits who would never live it down if they heard those beautiful sounds that escaped your lips with each hit of his blunt head against your sweet spot. The thought somehow egged him on further— he couldn't exactly decide if he was too possessive to let anyone hear or if he was possessive enough to make sure everyone knew he belonged to you, but at that moment, both of those thoughts turned him on too much, enough for him to feel his high approaching. And judging by the way your walls cramped down on him tighter with each passing second, you weren't too far behind.

You could feel yourself gushing around him, coating both of you in your essence beyond simple cleaning, but that was a matter to worry about later, not when the love of your life was balls-deep inside of you, his rough grunts right against your ear when he reached to press his lips right below it. "Close?" he mumbled, and even though your mind was too busy to hear and comprehend him properly, you nodded— feeling his arms wrapping around you tighter, pulling you closer to the warmth his body provided. And while as much as you'd like to keep this going for longer, witnessing his pace falter and voice break as he moaned out your name, filling you up in the most delicious way slowly was enough to have your eyes roll to the back of your head in pleasure, and to have the knot finally snap.

Your whole body was buzzing, shaky even when he held you so tight against his chest as if you'd vanish right there and then— something that he always did after sex, no matter the circumstance. You giggled wearily against his shoulder, leaving a few kisses here and there before he pulled away slightly to pull you into a kiss— nothing like the ones you shared in the past minutes, this one was all sweet and loving. "Might drip if I pull out."

"You can't stay there forever, Carm."

"Oh, but I want to." he huffed out but still moved to slowly pull out of you anyway, having you both hiss in sensitivity and just like he thought, his come was ready to spill all over the place. Quick-thinker in nature, he caught his seed with his fingers right before they could go further, pushing them back into you just to hear you gasp— and slap his shoulder playfully.

"You're a fucking freak."

"Shut up— round two at my place? Kinda wanna see where that watching me jerk off fantasy of yours might lead us."

a/n: once again i could be easily manipulated into breaking into your house with a part two, who knows

also @carmensberzattos consider this a marriage proposal

[duck-a-doodle]

The Rumoured Casper’s Honeybee (1/2) [EDITED]

A/N: Hello there! This is a little unedited drabble that has been stuck in my head, so I hope you enjoy it!

P.S.: I have edited and changed some grammar and the plot point to fit the second half better.

WARNING: Potentially OOC Simon 'Ghost' Riley. The reader is 'married to work' and is slower on tphe uptake. Let there be ANGST then fluff.

SUMMARY: Simon "Ghost" Riley, who has shockingly grown accustomed to you, seeks your medical attention. Masterlist

----------------------------------------------------------

The role of a medical professional under military services is nothing to choke at. Sounds of barked orders and the bright glint of hospital lights have become a familiar environment, and your eyes have grown accustomed to the olive drab greens and the standard heavy gears that came and went in a clinical setting, and that scene held true, even after your transfer to the 141.

Of the men in this base, the most outstanding ones you knew were Captain John Price, Sergeant Garrick, Sergeant McTavish and — Ghost. Tales of their stunts would float down the hallways thus naturally, you knew of them before you were properly acquainted. Loosely acquainted. Before you found your place in the 141, you were reserved, fastidious and competent, earning yourself the call sign 'Honeybee'. That had been your impression to many others of your field before you joined, and that was not to change now at your newly designated location.

It would not be uncommon for the clients to remember their practitioners and vice versa, but your case just seemed a little more special than the rest.

Ghost, who you prefered to refer to as ‘lieutenant’, seemed to have made himself familiar in your routine for the last two months. Prior to your arrival as the new medic of this organisation, you were told that he avoided the clinic like it was the plague, only showing up for the bare minimum of checkups. The turning point, some of your colleagues pointed out, appeared to be around the time you showed up, right as the team had returned from the Las Almas fiasco. No one person dared to deal with the lieutenant after witnessing his demeanour, and where he stepped, a repelling effect took place; anyone and everyone who had ever vaguely heard of him parted around him like the red sea, all except for you who refused to waver at any of the ‘Ghost rumours’.

The commanding officer was yours to manage ever since. For any wounds, illnesses, obligatory checkups or medical documents that he bore, it would be you who handled them. Not that you had any choice in that regard, given that whenever he set foot into the office, a clear path that led to you would reveal itself before him.

Never did you consider it a hassle when you understood it as part of your duty during government time, and soon a routine was formed after every operation he takes on.

He would come back more battered than a steak, and you would be at the ready with your gear, aid kit and all. On the rare, exacting moments of your career, you were even assigned to go out in the field where he had to be, for in the words of Captain Price, “our lieutenant recommended you for the role.”

Even with that, you thought nothing of it. Until you slipped.

The medical room was empty save for yourself and the medical equipment that needed sorting after an intensive few hours of patients filing in and out for appointments and health check-ups. After the last of the bunch left you wired and riddled with a terrible tension headache, you turned around to retrieve some aspirin, only to stop short at the sight of a tall, mass of black standing by the examination stable, waiting.

“Oh for god’s- hello, lieutenant,” You let out a breath after closing your eyes to gain your ground.

“Doc.”

“One moment, lieutenant.” Striding towards the cabinet which held your relief, you quickly popped yourself a pill before returning to address your surprise patient of the day.

Ghost simply lifted his mask slightly, to your surprise, and you looked away instinctively. Moments pass before you realised that the problem laid under the mask; a lip lasceration, there on the corner of his mouth. Wordlessly, you sprung into action despite your exhaustion and the throbbing sensation that weighed on the back of your mind. Carefully, you applied the L.E.T. Gel before going in with absorbable sutures, making sure to puncture the skin surfaces appropriately. Your eyes trained on the gash on his lips, away from the faint scars that litter his lower face, away from the details of his sharp nose and light five o’clock shadow that formed around his jaw.

Through, over, then through again went the needle, pulling the thread together in a quiet, steady rhythm. He never moved an inch; the only signs of life you felt from his were the warmth of his skin and the slow deep breaths that flowed through his chest. And when you were done, you cannot help but find that he is, of all the patients you have had, one of the most disciplined.

Perhaps it was the headache, perhaps it was your sleep-addled mind at play, or perhaps it was your lack of water that made you do it — but in a brief motion, you behaved contrary to your character. Before Ghost could fix his mask properly, you hand reached up to pull it down, lining it smoothly to his jaw before giving his head a soft, gentle pat.

A fleeting eye contact was all it took for your actions to dawn upon you. His eyes froze your hand in place and rendered you near speechless.

“I- My apologies, Capta- I mean, lieutenant. I forgot myself,” embarrassed, you removed your hand from his head immediately. He did not move. He did not blink. You watch cautiously, waiting with bated breath for him to reveal his displeasure. Instead, he chose to drop his head ever so slightly, closing his eyes.

Unsure of what to make of the situation, you followed his implications. Slowly, you rest your full palm against his skull, feeling the top of his head through the coarse fabric of his mask. You move your fingers lightly over his balaclava and feel something soft underneath — it was a bouncy, curling texture under the cloth. He has hair. A huff left your nose before you could stop it and his eyes snapped open to look at you.

Awkwardly, you offered him a small, tight-lipped smile, patting his head twice more before letting your hand drop to your side.

“For being a good patient,” you jested in an attempt to compose yourself.

Not long after he left, you shut your eyes and berated yourself for behaving like an utter fool, for losing your own decorum like a green-faced soldier despite your years of experience. You could not stop thinking about the glint in his eyes before he left that day. It felt almost playful, akin to that of a mischief about to stir awake, and by the devil did that memory return far too often for your liking.

*

Something certainly has shifted.

Soon, he began to visit you more often. You had suspicions that he may have memorised your timetable, and you had even deeper suspicions that it was one of your colleagues who has let him privy to said information. During unforseeable times of the week, a certain lieutenant of the 141 would show up to the clinic, requiring salves for a bruise, requesting ibuprofen for pain relief or even seeking combat gauze for his raw knuckles, of which you were certain that he must already have a few, considering his occupation. Once, he stood waiting behind you silently as you worked on your computer, waiting to ask for a bandaid. Needless to say, you were beyond startled to find that a skull face was poised quietly behind you for goodness knows how long.

You fail to remember exactly when he began to refer to you by your call sign ‘Honeybee’ instead of just ‘Doc’, and all you could think of was the way it rolled off his tongue. Funny, you thought, that the very name should sound just like honey coming from his own scarred lips.

A most prominent change, however, came not in the form of his unprompted visits, but in how they would end. Upon attending to his laughably miniscule thumb injury and amusedly pressing the medical ointment to his palm, he sat stock still on that same medical bed when you thought he would up and go. Mild bewilderment rested upon your knit brows, and you decided to voice your bemusment.

“Is there anything else, lieutenant?”

“Was I not a good patient?” He asked with a solemn expression.

Clearly, he has you dumbfounded. “Well — you are quite well-behaved during treatments, if that’s what you’re asking. So, yes, you are a good patient.”

Watching him closely, your eyes followed his line of sight and it lands, unexpectedly, on your hand. You looked between your raised hand and his unwavering, sharp pupils.

Oh.

Oh.

Once again, you dared to cross the boundary of his space, (or was it a boundary anymore?) and rest your hand on the side of his head this time, rubbing delicately, hesitantly. Fondness flutters warmly in your heart when his eyes shut serenely, enjoying your caring ministrations.

“Did it not bother you, lieutenant?” You whisper through the quietude.

“No,” came his gravelly reply.

He would clarify a little later, another detail that would occupy you for days on end.

“It’s comfortable. Like medicine to the head.”

All the air had tightened in your lungs at his admittance. There was something picturesque about a towering, muscle-bound killing-machine, bending to chase the sympathy of another’s warm fingers. It was almost endearing, the way this light gesture soothed him.

He had felt so — human.

*

Each time he came and went, it seemed to go further, like wading into the deep end of the pool in search of something, with only the vague impression of what you were about to find. Ghost would lean further in with every visit, and with every visit you would hold his head softer still, basking in the warmth of his face in one palm, then in two. He would breathe slower, as if savouring the air, the space, and eventually, his head would come to lean on your shoulder without any questions asked, and you would give him the medical attention he needed.

Cute.

It was, as he said, medicine to the head.

The method was unorthodox, yes, but if it can ease his temperament, then no doubt that a working solution should keep on. Through the two months which this had ensued, he was noticably less irritable and his team, who figured you were the source of his better nature, made sure you knew of the change whenever they came by the clinic. Only a few visits in, and sergeant McTavish, (who insisted that you call him ‘Soap’,) already has the nickname ‘Ghostbuster’ made for you, all in your honour. Even the staff now looked forward to Ghost’s visits too, despite still keeping a clear distance from him. They would observe the man covered in black from head to toe make a beeline for your office like clockwork, and the chatter between colleagues would be unending.

The amount of time with you spent treating on his physical wounds have been abbreviated as much as your call sign whenever he uses it, and it always warmed your ears considerably.

“G’d evenin’, Honey.” His guttural voice would greet.

“Lieutenant Riley,” you replied good-naturedly.

In exchange for shortening your name to something more familiar, he offered you his.

Simon Riley.

Something too intimate lay behind the use of his name, and so you both of you had come to a compromise; the lieutenant may go by Ghost to many, LT to some and Simon to rare few, but to you, he was lieutenant Riley.

He must be.

You were his doctor, and he was your patient, receiving an unusual prescription of several pats on the head every other day. It was a routine, just like any other meeting or appointment.

Speculations of a medic by the callsign ‘Honeybee’ began to spread around base alongside Ghost’s exaggerated talk, and when it reached your own ears through a closer colleague, you all but responded with a cocked brow, and went on with your day. People do little else, you had always known so. With the rising frequency of contact between the both of you, you felt that such hearsay was natural. And as long as nothing brewed inbetween, it was of non-consequence. On the occassion that you do hear the whispers firsthand down the hall, an amusing saying stuck with you; "the Honeybee’s caught a ‘emselves Ghost". Nicknames have been floating about, calling you a "Ghostbuster" or a "Ghost Hunter", and the most ridiculous one being "Lazarus", which was based on an old movie you have heard of but have never seen in your life.

You then caught wind of the lieutenant’s new nickname.

Casper. Such a silly name.

And then yet another nickname, "Kat" has surfaced for you, only this one had made zero sense to you at all.

Regardless of the silly teasings and harmless jibes from your colleagues about Ghost’s very frequent doctor appointments, you went on, working around the clock and going by the books.

Nothing has to change, especially if it meant nothing.

And yet, that silly little "nothing" began to occupy you through the quiet hours, and through the night.

An odd weight began to settle in your throat and chest whenever you saw your special patient, and the nicknames had begun to bother you more and more. You were too busy to think, too overwhelmed by people for an appetite, and too tired to make head nor tail of the week.

"... Doc?"

Your spine snaps straight at the sound of your name. How long have you been floating down your reverie?

"Ah, I'm sorry — yes?"

You colleague, who stood poised in blue scrubs whilst holding a clipboard, grins at you. "Casper was just looking for you. He left though, think his captain called for him or something."

"Ah, I see."

He shook his head lightly and turns to leave, but you stopped him with a question that you could not bear to have unanswered any longer.

"Why do you call him Casper?"

The man hummed, leaving you to sit with a disconcerting moment of silence as the answer sat on the precipice of his tongue.

"You know the plot of Casper, don't you?"

*

You swiveled on your office chair across the tables to your computer, a new task set to mind. Frantic fingers tapped away to solve that nagging mystery, and you felt the fine ends of a thread beginning to pull at the seams of your logic.

From the 1995 movie, he said.

The tab screen loaded your search, and your eyes scan the brief descriptions under each link. A small drop-down bar caught your attention, and in your gut you felt a twist of discomfort at the words that displayed before you.

Casper (1995) Plot What is the relationship between Kat and Casper?

Your breathing stopped at the insinuation, and a weight pulls on your lips as you read on.

… Casper, the ghost protagonist of the movie, falls madly in love with James' loner teenage daughter, Kathleen “Kat” Harvey, who is also looking for a friend. 

----------------------------------------------------------

FOOTNOTES:

"Lazarus" is the machine that was meant to bring Casper back to life, so the rumours are suggesting that the reader gives Ghost life.

[autisticlancemcclain]

My Dearest La

Dear La

Lance,

I really hate it when you’re right.

I know you are smiling as you read this. I can see it so clearly in my head. You are rolling your eyes now, probably, in fact you are probably even straining yourself. But I bet you are still smiling.

…

I miss you.

You told me leaving was stupid. Well, we screamed about it. I don’t like that I left angry. I should have waited so we could have been — well, I don’t know. I just don’t like that I left without saying goodbye properly. I don’t like that I didn’t get to kiss the smush between your eyebrows that you get when you’re mad

The bottom line is that I’m sorry. And I can’t do anything about it now because what’s done is done but. I wish I did. I’m sorry this message is so dorky. I can’t help how I feel about you. I promise I’ll be more — suave, or whatever, in my next one. There’s this Blade I hang out with sometimes, Sedrit, she is awkwardly funny like you. She has promised to give me some pointers because she’s as nosy as you are and read over my shoulder all the other times I tried to write this letter. I don’t trust her judgement but I’d walk into a wall on purpose in front of Pidge’s cameras if I could guarantee it’d make you laugh I think we could always use a smile. I’m ending this letter now because I’m embarrassed and if I write one more line I’ll lose my nerve.

Love,

Warm regards,

Sincerely,

Love,

Keith

———

“Sir? Sir! Hold on! Sir!”

The Balmeran turns, looking back at him curiously. He leans heavily on his cane, back hunched but chin set squarely.

“Yes, Blade?”

Keith jogs all the way over to him, stopping a respectful distance away. He reaches up to deactivate his mask, which he is not supposed to do, but the mask is fucking creepy, okay, it makes people uneasy so clearly that even Keith can see it, so fuck Kolivan’s lectures. He’s vindicated by the visible relaxing of the Balmeran’s shoulders.

“I need — a favour,” Keith says haltingly. His own shoulders begin to hunch. “If you don’t mind.”

The Balmeran’s stiff brows lift in surprise. He looks deliberately down at his newly-bandaged leg, then back up at Keith. Keith flushes.

“A… favour.”

All the pockets on Keith’s uniform are square-shaped and small. Deep, but not very long. Anything he puts in there gets squished. Except for the long, thin pocket-thing hidden against the outside of his thigh.

The letter has been stuffed carefully in there for two weeks. It’s a miracle it hasn’t been destroyed. The top left corner of it has gotten frayed, because Keith keeps catching himself rubbing it with the pad of his thumb.

“I know you’ve been through so much,” Keith says quietly. “I’m sorry even to ask.”

The Balmeran’s stance is still carefully guarded, practiced —

“As have you.”

— but his eyes are soft and knowing.

Keith lets out a long, heavy breath. He slides the letter gently out of its spot, turning it over in his hands; inspecting the familiar creases, ink stains. It’s a rough, recycled envelope. Made out of old briefing notes, by the looks of it, thick black lines of censorship streaking across the pale yellow surface. An ugly thing, really.

“I need to get this to the Red Paladin of Voltron,” he says, forcing himself to hand the thing over. “I don’t — I can’t send it through the Empire delivery service, for obvious reasons. And Voltron’s location is always encrypted. I —” He stops, mouth clamping shut, because suddenly the words have become impossible to force out through the lump in his throat. He hasn’t talked to the team in weeks. He has no way of contacting them without putting them — or himself — in danger. There will be absolutely no way for Lance to send him a letter back, even if he wants to. The whole thing seems, abruptly, a painful kind of hopeless.

And yet.

“I will pass it along,” promises the Balmeran, voice flooded with kind understanding. He wraps his hands around Keith’s, squeezing once, before gently prying the letter out of his clenched fingers. “I don’t know how long it will take, but I have a someone who works in Emerg-med. She travels frequently, and should be able to take it farther than I can.”

“Thank you,” Keith chokes out, blinking rapidly.

The Balmeran smiles. “Keep strong, child.”

———

“Granddaughter,” greets the old man warmly. The young woman turns at his voice, laughing in delight when she sees him and enveloping him carefully in an embrace.

“Grandfather! You’re well!”

“I’m alive,” he corrects, teasingly.

She takes the jest in stride. “You are alive, and so you are well. I am so happy to see you.” There is genuine love in her voice. She holds tightly to his arm. “Are you staying in care long?”

He shakes his head. “No, dear. I dropped by only to see you. And,” he digs around in his pocket, carefully extracting a letter, placing it in her waiting hands, “to ask a favour.”

“A letter?”

“For the Red Paladin, from the Black.”

“I see.” She frowns thoughtfully, turning the paper over in her hands. “Last I heard, they were rebuilding on Ilso. I am going only as far as Igrendia, to visit my cousin.”

“Pass it along then,” he suggests.

She promises she will.

———

A young girl, to her cousin: “Imeld! Can you pass something along for me?”

A cousin, to her lover: “If you could drop it off at the supply camp when you stop by.”

A lover, to his father: “A friend of mine works in that fuel stop. Let him know I sent you?”

A father, to a friend of a friend: “Only a couple stops left, I reckon.”

A friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend, to a friend of a friend: “It’s almost there.

———

A friend of a friend of a friend, to a Paladin:

“I think this is yours. It’s travelled a while.”

—���—

A smile aches at the apples of Lance’s cheeks. Salt drips onto his tongue, and he swallows, breath shuddering.

“You — dorky asshole,” he whispers, and tucks the envelope in the secret pocket on the thigh of his undersuit.

———

Lance,

I have no idea if my last letter got to you. I hope it did, if not, here’s the rundown: you were right, I regret leaving, and I miss you.

Anyways.

Today I was on a mission in a planet that was just a huge wildflower field. Just — hundreds of hundreds of flowers, every colour you can imagine and then some. It smelled like you. I cried.

Do you remember when we snuck out of that negotiation — thing? Whatever it was? And you poked me hard in the arm and loudly complained about how much of a bummer I was being. And you dared me to roll down the hill with you. And when I was laughing at the bottom of the hill because you had just so much grass in your hair you crawled over me and kissed me like you’d been waiting to do it.

I remember how we kissed until my lips bruised after. And then we just lay there, until I got fidgety, and then you pulled us both up and walked around picking flowers and sticking them in my hair and snickering. This was the flower. Doesn’t it look like the one you brought back?

I thought of you a lot today. It hurt a little bit. A lot bit. I missed you until it ached.

I hope I see you in the flowers again soon.

I love you more than the stars

Love, and lots of it,

Keith

———

“Hey, Sedrit.”

His voice is as hushed as he can make it. He doesn’t want to wake the others. But she won’t be asleep — she never sleeps before big missions. She says it’s because the adrenaline keeps her alert, puffing up her chest. But Keith knows that she prays because she is afraid that she will die.

She doesn’t answer, so he kicks the bottom of the mattress above him. He hears a huff, and then seconds later, a curtain of hair flops over the side of the top bunk, and her wide, pupil-less eyes blink into focus.

“What do you want, shithead.”

He smiles at her guiltily. “A favour?”

“Ugh.”

But she looks at him in begrudging acceptance.

“I need you to — drop something off, when you go to El-dan. Ask another Blade there if they could pass on a letter.”

She must read his tone, because the annoyance vanishes from her expression. She reaches over and flicks him in the nose.

“Yeah, lovebird. I can pass on your letter.”

———

“Hey, man, could you send this along the next off-world?”

“What for?”

“For true love. Or because I asked you to.”

———

“I don’t know what it is. It’s classified. But it needs to get to the Red Paladin.”

———

“I heard it’s news of an ambush!”

“Well, it can’t be news now. It’s weeks old at least.”

“Yes, well, drop it off anyways. It’s Voltron business, you know.”

———

Lance’s door slide opens.

“I have — correspondence,” says Allura, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I was informed of a possible ambush? Perhaps we should read the letter together.”

Prepared remark about greetings and knocking and why they were invented flee Lance’s tongue, and his controller clatters to the ground in his haste to meet her.

“Lemme see,” he demands, snatching the letter straight from her hands. Her protests fall on deaf ears.

You were right, I regret leaving, I miss you.

He grins.

“What is that?”

“No ambush,” he says breathlessly, floating back over to his bed. He traces the shape of every letter, the blots of smudged ink. The scratch of the words is just as important as the content of the letter, Lance has found. He’s long since memorized the first letter, but he still finds himself drawing it out of his pocket, unfolding it with a shaky sort of reverence, studying every slanted T and looped L, closing his eyes and letting the impression of the ink burn into his eyelids. The cadence of the words have become song, hummed over and over and over again in his head.

This time, there’s a drawing. It does indeed look similar to the one hanging, dried, at the head of his bed. He presses the tip of his thumb into the center of it, breathing hard, rapidly blinking away the tears so they don’t drop and ruin the paper.

“I remember,” he manages, half-choked. “I remember, I remember.”

When he looks up again, hours have passed, and Allura has long since left, closing the door quietly behind her.

———

Lance, my love,

I know we do not talk about the observation deck.

It is your sacred place, I think. When you sit in the middle of the floor and look up at the glowing stars and the planets cast shadows on your face and make your eyes shine gold as sunlight the only way to describe you is holy. The first time I ever saw you like that it made my stomach hurt. When I think about it now I miss you so much the ache spreads all the way to my teeth.

When I was a kid I read about how grief makes you hurt but time makes you forget. I read about how men begin to forget the shape of their late wives’ smile. Or the slope of her nose. I read about how children begin to forget the slant of their fathers’ shoulder. How mothers forget the way their babies curled their fist.

Missing you hurts like unravelling. You’re all I think about. I will never forget the fit of your hand in mine as long as I remember how to speak. And I will know the ridges of your teeth so long as I can taste. I will know the length of your back as long as I can walk. I will remember the curve of your lips as long as I can blink. I will know the way you glowed in floating blue starlight until my brain shuts down and my organs fail me.

Patroclus said I will know him in death and at the end of the world.

I will know you every waking second of my life, and I will make myself remember for every nanosecond in between.

Nothing will compare to holding you in my arms again.

Keith

———

Sedrit has officially been declared missing in action. A new soldier has taken her bunk.

Keith’s stomach hurts all the time, now.

“Just — one time,” Keith begs.

“You have way more training than that job requires,” says Kolivan.

“I know. I just —” He realises, suddenly, that even if he had an argument he does not have the strength to make it. The letter creases in his clenched hands. “Please.”

For a long moment the Blade leader does not speak. Keith meets his searching gaze, but his eyes are blank, unfocused. Exhaustion pulls at his features. His hood droops on his shoulders.

“In an out, Keith,” Kolivan relents finally. “A supply mission should take less than four vargas. I want you back here then and not a tick later, so you understand?”

Keith could cry in relief, but Kolivan looks stiff enough already. Should Keith express an emotion in front of him he might be forced into a total system reset, and his programming might not be prepared for that.

“Thank you,” he says instead, and rushes off before he can change his mind.

Matt is leading the supply run. This letter might land right in Lance’s hands.

———

“I’ll get it to him, Keith.”

“Thank you, Matt. I owe you.”

“Take care of yourself, man. They all miss you.”

“…I miss them too.”

———

Matt hands him the letter without a word. No one else says anything, either, when he clenched it tightly between his thumb and forefinger and walks right out of the bridge. Not even Shiro, whose gaze Lance can feel bore a hole into the back of his head.

You’re all I think about, writes Keith’s neat cursive, and Lance presses the paper to his chest and cries.

———

My Lance,

I hate it here.

I miss you.

———

Alarm bells shriek through the headquarters. Keith has become numb to them, at this point.

He slides the letter in between the pages of an intelli-file and hopes.

———

CLASSIFIED

FOR VOLTRON’S EYES ONLY

BIOMETRICS REQUIRED

WILL SELF DESTRUCT

———

There is a letter waiting on his bed when Lance gets back from his mission on Efid-d. He has not slept in three days. His vision is blurry.

He falls asleep with the paper open in his hands, mirroring the curve of Keith’s body.

———

My love,

Naxzela. Soon. I think Kolivan knows there’s something wrong. I’m gonna I might I think I can stay, for a bit. Hopefully.

Well, I will see you again. Damn it all. I don’t care about the world I don’t care about the Empire I don’t care about anything, anymore, I just want to come home —

Naxzela.

It will be weeks until I see you face to face on this mission but already everything seems less bleak. I will admit some of the anger has crept in. I feel awful. I’m trying to remember what you said, in the very beginning, before you kissed me in the flowers. When you held my hands in the purple light and said we make a good team.

I know you say you don’t remember it, you goober. You do. You get embarrassed when I bring it up, that’s how I know. You always get embarrassed when you’re caught being vulnerable.

I loved you then, you know. I didn’t know it then but I did. I thought about your hand in mine for weeks. You have always been so central to me.

Soon, sweetheart. Soon I can hold you again.

Naxzela.

———

He doesn’t bother sending this one along. He tucks it in the secret pocket on the side of his pants, and with every passing day it grows heavier and the weight on his chest grows lighter.

———

When the shield closes over the planet and Keith says, it’s been an honour serving with you all, the scream starts at the bottom of Lance’s feet. It comes up to his knees when he sees the pod speeding towards it, up to his chest when Shiro barks at him to stay in formation. It catches in his throat as he wrenches Red away.

It echoes through space when the pod hits the shield in a shower of blue sparks and grey smoke, and Prince Lotor defects to their side one nanosecond too late.

———

The beep of the healing pod synchs with Lance’s heartbeat. It can’t quite drown out the screech echoing in Lance’s head; that keeps going, and going, and going.

Soon, sweetheart.

He sobs into the half-burned paper.

———

“You better keep your promise, you dorky asshole.”

———

Healing pods have always smelt, inexplicably, of burnt hair.

He hears the slide of the glass door opening, then the whoosh of air as he pitches forward before his arms are awake enough to stop him. Luckily, he falls right into bony arms, and the smell of flowers and sunshine quickly envelops him.

“You motherfucker,” says a voice, heavy with tears, and Keith smiles.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he croaks.

His Lance sobs. The hands on the sides of his arms slide slowly down to his wrists, gripping tightly. Keith forces his eyes open, blinking away the bleariness. Lance has his own eyes squeezed shut, like he’s too afraid to look, head bowed.

Well, that simply won’t do.

“Lance, baby, look at me.”

“You motherfucker,” Lance repeats, and finally he does look up but he’s glaring angrier than Keith has ever seen him. Keith grins wider. “You motherfucker, you damn near lied to me.”

Slowly, half convinced he’ll move to fast and wake up on his bunk, alone, he reaches up and cups Lance’s cheeks. He swipes his thumbs carefully over wet cheekbones, exhaling shakily, revelling in the feel of Lance’s skin under his, finally, finally, finally.

“I’m home, Lance,” he whispers. Tears spring from his own eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m home.”

“Stay,” Lance begs, like he should have months and months ago, like he meant to, like he wanted to.

“There’s no other option,” Keith promises, and as he leans in and presses their lips together, finally, tasting the salt and licking the ridge of his teeth and swallowing every shuddering breath, he vows to never send a letter again.

He’ll tell Lance all he needs to hear himself.

———

all art by @mothmanavenue

concept from this post

[garbinge]

Clean Cut

Tim Bradford x F!Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bullets, war, shrapnel, anxiety, worry, car accidents. Slightly angsty. 

Word Count: 1.2k 

A/N: Okay so I just caught up with all The Rookie seasons and I’m just LIVING for Chenford. Like LIVING. buuuuuut I noticed there wasn’t much Tim x Reader fic out there soooooo I figured why not! This idea came to my head at some point when I was watching and I also have like a whole story of their life beyond and before this moment but enjoy this little reworked snippet from 2x08. 

The Rookie Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

It had felt like a long day already and you had only been clocked in at the hospital for two hours. You still had 10 hours left in your shift and it felt like you experienced a whole day’s worth already. Being a corpsman for a Marine squad prepared you for a lot but sometimes the uniqueness of LA and the people who resided in it and tended to need your RN medical services at St. Stevens ran you for your money. 

Currently, you were updating patient charts during the lull that was likely to last all of two seconds but it beat staying an extra hour to finish your paperwork likely unpaid because the hospital rarely approved overtime for RNs. 

“Wanna tell me why it’s so crazy for a Tuesday?” 

The statement from your coworker caused you to look at them over your shoulder and let out a laugh. 

“I wish I had an answer to that, but I also feel like anything I say will jinx it even more.” You pushed the computer cart against the wall and moved over to your coworkers cart. “You’ve got like 15 pages here, what is this?” You picked up the manila folder that was larger than your normal ER patient folders. 

“Police car accident. There’s a few of them in the ER right now, these things always include tons of paperwork. Everyone needs to cover their asses.” 

Your heart started to beat faster at the mention of a police accident but what really caused you to go into panic mode was seeing your husband's name on the report. 

Before you could even answer your co-worker you were moving down the stairs, knowing the elevator would take too long. You knew the elevator would probably be quicker but the thought of standing still while you waited for and in it would drive your mind crazy so rushing down the stairs was the better alternative. 

Tim was sitting on one of the ER beds, the scene of it caused you to stop for a minute. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Tim hurt waiting to be treated. In all honesty this was probably the tamest medical treatment scenario you two had been in together. He looked fine from afar, but that didn’t stop the worry from boiling in your gut. 

“What happened?” You were next to him within seconds, the worry being the fuel of moving you from the staircase entrance to his side in seconds. 

“I rear ended a civilian.” Tim knew better than to try and calm you down with pleasantries and relaxing mantras. 

“Jesus.” Your hand moved to your pocket in search of your pen light. Quickly, you flashed it in front of his eyes, searching for his eyes to constrict and then dilate when you moved the light away. 

“They already did this.” Tim’s voice was neutral, but you knew he was annoyed. 

“Humor me.” Your head tilted, now your own annoyance was clear to him. 

His eyes softened as they met yours and he nodded which gave you the okay to keep running through the trauma checklist in your head. 

“This isn’t like you.” Tim said after a few minutes of silence between you as he humored you by lifting up his arms as you pressed down on his ribs and checked his reflexes. 

“In what way?” You talked as you continued to look him over. 

“I’ve come home and told you I’ve gotten shot at and you barely react, I tell you that I got into a car accident and you’re acting like I have internal bleeding.” Tim’s eyebrows raised. 

“Did they do a CT scan? You could have internal bleeding. Especially if the airbags went off.” 

“Doc.” The use of the nickname only 13 people in the world knew you as caused you to stop your examination of Tim and stand in front of him, slightly defeated. 

“If I worried about every close call you encounter everyday, I’d be dysfunctional. This.” You pointed towards him and the bed, “This is tangible. This actually happened.” 

Tim nodded and a smirk slightly filled his face. 

“You doubtin’ me, Sarge?” You frowned as you asked him, using your own nickname for him. 

“No,” Tim let out a chuckle and shook his head before looking back up at you. “I know better than to ever doubt you.” 

“Smart man.” Officer Lopez walked up to the two of you with a smile. “How’s he doin’?” She looked between the both of you. 

“He’s fine. No signs of a concussion,” you looked at Angela and then back at Tim, “and no signs of internal bleeding.” You smirked at him knowing he was going to give you one back. 

“Give us a minute, Lopez?” Tim stood up and ripped the hospital bracelet off his wrist. 

“Yea, just wanted to let you know the break lights were cut in the car you hit, foul play, you’ll likely be in the clear.” She explained while looking at the both of you, relief coming as a sigh from both you and Tim. “I’ll be in the lobby.” She nodded at him and squeezed your arm to say goodbye before leaving the ER. 

“We goin’ back to the conversation we were having or a new one?” You asked Tim as he towered over you. 

“You pulled shrapnel out of my abdomen in Afghanistan and you look more worried checking me for a concussion.” Tim said with his arms crossed. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing.” Your one worded answer wasn’t convincing.

“Don’t lie to me.” Tim said more seriously than any of his other statements. 

You sighed, “Like I said, this is tangible. In Afghanistan, we weren’t exactly given the space to worry. Here, I feel like it’s all I have to hold onto. But again, if I held onto every worry I’d be dysfunctional. I know you can handle yourself when bullets are flying, when shit goes sideways, it’s these out of your control scenarios that just get me flustered.” You explained moving your hands around as you talked. 

Tim brought you in for a hug, knowing nothing he’d say could change anything. “You do realize, I’m the one that rear-ended the civilian, not the other way around, right? Totally in my control.” He teased you. 

“Not according to Angela.” You corrected him and he chuckled. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” He placed a quick kiss on the top of your head. 

“See you tonight, I already texted Angela all the concussion signs in case we missed anything.” Letting your last bit of worry out. 

“You haven’t missed a single diagnosis or injury since I met you, Doc!” He called out from a few feet from you. 

“You know, I’m technically not a doc, anymore, Sarge!” You yelled out to him. 

He turned around with his arms up as he continued to walk backwards. “And I’m not technically a Sargeant anymore.” 

“Old habits die hard!” You yelled back just before the elevator doors opened and he stepped backwards into the elevator flashing you a quick smile before the doors closed and he was back on duty.

[amphibiahawks321]

Request by : Boltermasterbon 2/2

Signora : You must be the new recruit correct?

M!Reader : Y-yes ma'am...

Signora : I see... I hope you won't disappoint us with your service..........

M!Reader : Y/N ma'am...

Signora : Y/N? What a lovely name...

M!Reader : Thank you ma'am

Signora : No need to be so formal call me la Signora...

M!Reader : Thank you miss signora

Signora : But I must say there's something different between you and other agents....

M!Reader : and what is that exactly?

Signora : More..... Alluring

M!Reader : .......[Blushes a little]

M!Reader : T-thank you for the compliment

Signora : Hm? Chuckles Blushing now are we~?

M!Reader : S-sorry Miss signora!

Signora : No no...

[Lift his chin up to make eye contact with her]

Signora : I don't mind~

[Blushes even harder]

Signora : Such a soft face you got here~

[M!Reader thought 💭]

What is happening?! 0///////0‼️

Signora : And I must say your eyes are absolutely beautiful~

[Arlecchino suddenly from behind pulls Y/N into her arms locking him and starts staring at signora with a cold stare]

Arlecchino : Am I interrupting something....

Signora : Aah knave....

Arlecchino : May I ask what you two were doing....

Signora : Well we were just trying to get along that's all but..... Now you're locking his entire body like a possessive cat....

[M!Reader thought 💭]

Arlecchino your gripping me too tight!

M!Reader : Arlecchino I haven't seen you around today where were you?

Arlecchino : Sorry Y/N I had to do some talking with dottore today....

M!Reader : that's okay!

M!Reader : .....Also by the way did you like the food I made? 'v'

Arlecchino : Chuckles always~

Signora : I see that you two are close...

Arlecchino : Very...

Signora : Is he perhaps your boyfriend knave?

Arlecchino : His my pretty boy....

[M!Reader thought 💭]

........Excuse me WHAT?!

Signora : Pretty boy? Chuckles that nickname fits perfectly for him~

Arlecchino : .......

[Holds Y/N tighter]

Signora : but I didn't think that Y/N would be into you....

Arlecchino : .....

Arlecchino : What's that supposed to mean...

[M!Reader thought 💭]

Oh boy....

[The argument went out for almost 10 minutes while Y/N body is still locked on by arlecchino]

Signora : You know Knave we could just share him y'know~

Arlecchino : like hell....

Signora : Come on no need to be feisty now.... We both know that Y/N over here will be more protected....

Arlecchino : .....Groans fine... But one wrong move from you-

Signora : don't be so overprotective now I wouldn't dare to hurt this what was it the nickname you called him? Oh right... pretty boy~

[Bends down and kisses Y/N's cheek]

[Arlecchino groans]

Signora : you can kiss him too y'know?

[Arlecchino grabs Y/N chin from behind and moves his head to the side and give Y/N a full kiss on the lips]

M!Reader : MMM?!

[Both of them stop kissing and leave a trail of saliva between their lips]

Signora : chuckles I'm gonna make sure to do that later to you too~

[M!Reader starts blushing even redder]

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

June 30th

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1. Ok this might be a shot in the dark. But do you know of a fic where basically it’s an arranged marriage (kind of) between lan zhan and trans (ftm) wei ying. It believe it is based on a reddit thread of a gay guy who got into an arranged marriage with a woman, but they actually are a trans man. Anyways…the reddit posts are deleted by now. But I remember reading this fic a couple years back and I can’t find it anywhere. Either it’s been deleted or hopefully someone else is able to find it 😭

FOUND? Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach by Khashana (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern, Arranged Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, fake married, Sort Of, Rule 63, Trans Woman WWX, Partial Cisswap, implied background/societal homo/transphobia, But nothing overt, background LXC/Qin Su also in a marriage of convenience way, gender euphoria, the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with your spouse, based on that one reddit post, Light Angst, Light Pining, this fic is soft mostly) I think #1 might be this one, although wwx is a trans woman in it (it's a wlw wangxian AU) rather than a trans man

~*~

2. Hi!! I cant remember if I already sent this or just thought really hard about it 😪 Im looking for a modern AU fic where WWX is dx'd ADHD and he and LWJ slowly start a relationship. The scene I remember most clearly is there being fireworks and it send LWJ into a meltdown. Ether just before or after the meltdown he found out LXC and LQR have been trying to get him diagnosed with Autism.

Xiao Xingchen is an adult psych who specalizes in neurodivergence iirc, and WWX helps make LWJ feel more okay w possibly being neurodiverse by talking about his experience w ADHD and Xiao Xingchen.

🙇‍♀️ thank you! @la-voce-to-me

FOUND! together, we're just enough by lulu_kitty (E, 134k, WangXian, Modern AU, Bartender LWJ, single dad wwx, Kid fic (sort of), Excessive Fluff, Yearning, neurodivergent wangxian, canonical parental issues, lwj in jewelry, accidental sugar gege wwx, Bottom LWJ, Service Top WWX, Bisexual WWX, Rich WWX, a-yuan is a wei but still also a wen, wwx is a-yuan's biological baba, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Slow-ish burn, Light Dom/sub, Brief LWJ/Others, Past WWX/Other(s)) sounds a lot like the happenings in chapter 8!

~*~

3. hey admins! i'm looking for a fic where wwx is from the modern world back and somehow goes back in time to the cloud recesses and spends some time there, and towards the end of the fic lwj goes back to the modern with wwx. (i also remember that wwx and lwj goes back and forth often visiting each others home) thanks! <3

FOUND? Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

~*~

4. This for fic finder. Its an old fic. Modern au focused on junior quartet. I dont know if the fic is several fic or in one fic. Junior quartet is in a club where they make a magazine (sorry i forgot the word both in my language and in english). They have an access to a school forum. LJY found an old forum talking about wangxian. Like the people in that forum failed to make wangxian happen in the past. If i remember correctly, they tried to matchmake wangxian. They ask LWJ to accompany them to yunmeng. In yunmeng, there are big festival happened there and they meet the jiang family in second floor of the restaurant to watch the festival from there. I think the jiangs is a respectable family that many people know them. So long story short, they manage to matchmake wangxian. I dont know if LJY release the news to that old forum or someone did. Just that LJY have an inkling the account that helped them is NHS. I dont know if this is important but LJY username has connection to chicken. I think thats all. Thank you @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! Operation Old Men by Chiharu (Not Rated, 37k, WangXIan, JL & LSZ & LJY, JYL/JZX, Modern, Boarding School, Single Parents, Everyone Is Alive, Matchmaking, Family Dynamics, Hospitals, Meet the Family, Family Vacation, Weddings, School Reunion, Happy Ending)

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5. this for ficfinder! i need help looking for a time travel fic wherein established wangxian travel back to their teen years. iirc wwx and lwj writes to each other in secret and wwx invents talismans to give to the jiang sect so that he can repay his debts and leave the clan when he is at a certain age. lwj also leaves (??). i think they become rogue cultivators tgt. im pretty sure i have this downloaded but i cant find it from hundreds of fics bc i cant rmbr the name 😭

FOUND! Trials of Time by Muggle_Diary (E, 32k, wangxian, major character death, underage, time travel, not jiang friendly, not YZY friendly, not JC friendly, butterfly effect)

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6. Hello!! So i think the fic got deleted but all i can remember was wangxian had mythical creature eggs? Like they had a dragon,tiger,snake&turqoise and phoenix and they can talk telepathically at first then they can shift to humans later on!Thank you again so much!!!!

FOUND? For #6 with telepathic creatures, I haven't read the fic, but could it be that magical marriage ribbons series?

FOUND? #6 is My Immortal. I can't do the link on I'm my phone. It has the mythical beasts.

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7. Hii, I'm looking for a fic in which lan zhan goes to a party with lan xichen and then keeps going to the same house where the party is at many times and hangs out with wei ying on the basement sofa

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8. hii!! i recently read a fanfic where wei wuxian can't sleep because he gets horrible nightmares, there's one particular scene where the juniors are practically dragging him into cloud recesses, and he's falling asleep whilst walking and they meet with Lan wangji. if you could help me find it, that would be super great !! @spaaarkie

FOUND? hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, wangxian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort)

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9. I thought I had subscribed to this fic but I guess not... Looking for a WIP in which WWX is ambushed in Yiling, but he has A-Yuan with him so he's extra desperate in trying to fight the attackers off. There might be fire involved? Either the title, the description or the tags have some reference to "hysterical strength" (maybe! not 100% sure about that one!). Thank you. 🖤❤️ @linderel

FOUND! Hysterical Strength by covalentbonds (Not rated, 3k, WangXian, WIP, Canon Divergence, Inspired by a Bollywood movie scene, Everyone Lives/Nobody dies, Parent WWX)

~*~

10. hi!! i'm looking for a fic i read about a year ago(?) on ao3, where during the cloud recesses study arc (i think?) lqr and the other teachers notice that wwx's basic education is lacking and wwx says it's because yzy doesn't let him join jc's lessons because wwx is supposed to be a right hand man and his education is therefore less important, so the lan elders and scholars all team up to give him remedial lessons; i think there's also a part where they build a case against the jiang sect because the sect scholars failed their responsibility to teach their disciples equally. the fic holding shreds by barisan reminds me of it a little bit, but instead of yzy's physical abuse of wwx the one i'm looking for is all about the emotional abuse and education inequality

FOUND?🔒💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting) in this one, Xichen is speculating that WWXs education was stunted, especially in sect etiquette, deliberately by mme yu.

FOUND?🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad) in this one the lan sect does the scholar case thing where they accuse jiang sect of failing their duties by neglecting to educate wei ying.

~*~

11. hi, i'm looking for a fic which i found on twitter but im sure links to AO3 — basically everyone in the universe is some sort of animal (wwx is a fox, lwj is a dragon?) and they're classified by their mating cycles (whether they mate for life or seasonally). wwx and lwj gets engaged but lwj calls it off as wwx is a fox and therefore mates seasonally vs his for-life situation. wwx gets sad about it and then they find out wwx actually can mate for life! i used to find it easily before but for some reason no matter what i search, it just won't come up and i don't think i was logged into ao3 at the time i read it either. hope someone remembers it as well, thanks!

FOUND? what you have tamed by lianhua_lianzi, Senforza (E, 94k, WangXian, Animal Traits, misunderstandings, Courting Rituals, Pining, Lan family dynamics, Drama, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Wangxian break up but get back together, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied Mpreg, Unresolved Sexual Tension, unintentional and eventually resolved “gaslighting”, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX)

~*~

12. Hi I’m trying to find a fic where jiang Cheng is being forced to get married/find an heir. I remember that a member of YunmengJiang approached him with a list of members of the sect that would leave if he didn’t get an heir. I think it was mentioned that people were okay with him not having getting married since they assumed Jin Ling would inherit and Jin Guangyao would have another child but once his crimes were revealed they started to pressure him.

I know it wasn’t a Jiang cheng/lan Xichen or jiang cheng/nie Huaisang

FOUND? Karma by such_stuff_as_dreams_are_made_on (Not Rated, 2k, JC & OCs, Post-Canon, Arranged Marriage, Light Angst, Minor WangXian, Not JC Friendly)

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13. I’m trying to find this fic where Wei Ying is looking for spouse for some reason and he starts asking everyone in Cloud Recesses but Lan Zhan even ask LXC to be his partner right in front of LWJ

If you have an idea about what I’m talking about thank you!!

~*~

14. so theres this fic in which jiang cheng and wei wuxian sit in a boat in jiang cheng's memories and wei wuxian sings a song that he altered slightly. im pretty sure it was a reconcilliation fic but im not sure but jc was a bit emotional. i can't find it, please help!

related to the previous ask, what i described is also only a scene from that fic and probably not what the entire fic is about. i only remember that one scene. @theartisticdoofus

FOUND? sing to the clouds in summerby stiltonbasket (G, 28k, JC & WWX, JC & JL, wangxian, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, 13k words of JC figuring out that LSZ is his nephew, ft. LXC and NHS the overprotective uncles, and LWJ giving JC death glares, Family Secrets, Reconciliation, Sad JC, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Podfic Available) the song is in chapter 4

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15. Dear FicFinder Team, here I am again with only vibes and one scene. It was a WIP CQL post-canon fic, set during WWX's wanderings. At some point he exorcises a ghost in a tower (not one of the watchtower fics tho) and the last scene was WWX on his way back, kneeling in the grass to make offerings to his shijie and finally letting himself cry about her death. Maybe there were food descriptions too, I read this very early on and cannot find it in my history. It was exquisitely written too. @kinoumenthe

FOUND! the earth remembered me by remux (T, 30k, WIP, WangXian, POV WWX, Post-Canon, Emotional Edging, Letters, emotional support strangers, Original Character(s), lwj's quiet devotion)

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16. Do you know the name for a fic where WWX is invisible (for some reason) and is in LWJ room (for some reason) and WWX watches LWJ hump a pillow but then LWJ notices that someone is in the room with him yada yada they have sex i forget when it gets revealed that it’s WWX

NOT FOUND! Mak Siccar by therealandraste (E, 20k, WangXian, Case Fic, Post-Canon, Misunderstandings, Pining, Happy Ending, Paperman smut - only god can judge me, Original Character Death(s)) the details don't exactly fit but

FOUND! Clinomania by malkinmalkout (E, 6k, WangXian, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Somnophilia, misuse of talismans, PWP, Riding, Oral Sex, binding, Happy Ending, canon typical non-con)

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17. hello I'm looking for this twitter threadfic written by cerbykerby where wwx is a mermaid captured and brought in for studying by scientist lwj and others, and they eventually become mates. i've tried looking through their account for it but the fic is old and the search is way too far down, and i can't find the full fic. pls help out thanks!

FOUND? this is the unrolled threadfic by cerbykerby, I think

~*~

18. Hi! First time requesting something like this, but I really need help finding this one fanfic. It’s a incomplete wangxian fanfic and the summary of what I remember was that when WWX wakes up in MXY’s body after thirteen years, people are actually praising YL WWX because somehow (I cant remember how) the truth behind his actions and why he did what he did in the first place. JC faces some hate from the cultivation world, JL doesn’t hate WWX, and LWJ is extremely protective of WWX. Hope all this information helps!!! @nikki-g-m

Could #18 be that fic where a painter/theater guy did an interview with drunk wwx during the burial mounds arc and then it got published after his death so that when he resurrects its's all settled already (?). I dont remember the name either but maybe someone else will

FOUND? 💖 The Ballad of Hanguang-Jun and The Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 40k, WangXian, ChengQing, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Burial Mounds Arc, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Humor, musical theater?, Misunderstandings, POV Outsider, Crack treated seriously) The commenter on 18 was thinking of The ballad of Hanguang-jun and the Yiling Patriarch, though idk if this is the fic OP wants

FOUND? i think its deleted? Have You Heard Of The Yiling Patriach by R_PONTS

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19. literally just reading a random wangxian fic when I I remembered this one fic I read a while ago. I can’t really remember a lot of details but from what I remember Wei ying is the cloud recess for whatever reason and he get the silencing spell out on him and he panicked and starts scratching and clawing at his throat and everybody’s watching horrified like please y’all help me remember 😭 @saintzx

FOUND?🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 56k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, WIP, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang Sect Friendly, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not YZY Friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad) The clawing is because he's desperate to defend JC against LQR's (rightful) admonishing, after JYL told him he should've tried harder after being silenced on a previous occasion defending JC

~*~

20. Hello

Love your blog!

A) I'm looking for a fic where wwx was raised by WRH, but it is introduced with him being the one to raze Cloud Recess and starting ti flirt with a prisoner LWJ who's very much " bro, wtf" in his inner monologue.

He's bff w Xye Yang and at one point thinks of doing lwj favors

B) Modern au where wwx and lwj had been married, adopted LSZ and then divorced due to someone either framing wwx or LWJs fam pressuring him to it. Wwx still has visitation rights and all, and at one point lwj buys them a house as an apology, but wwx is less than cash money above it, bcs lwj didn't truly fix the mistrust or whatever the reason for their breakup was @midnightlighthowlite

20B)

FOUND? 🔒 Life as a House by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (T, 55k, WangXian, Modern AU, Corporate Espionage, Post-Divorce, Father-Son Relationship, Reconciliation, Therapy)

~*~

21. Hello there, I’m not sure if this is a fic finder or an in the mood for, because I’m looking for a fic and more like that.

So you know how theres this TikTok Sound of someone called Nick who asks for the WLAN Password and its I Love You Nick and Nick is in a lot of denial about being lovers even though their anniversary is coming up?

I found a fic that was basically WY and LZ in a relationship, and WY/LZ (but more likely WY) didn’t realise that they were anything more than friends, and it was very funny.

More comedic than anything else. But I cannot for the life of me find it, and everytime I try and search for it, only the sad version shows up.

Please send help, I need to read this fluff….I crave it. @desperation-is-my-middle-name

~*~

[ltwilliammowett]

She is a bit shy in door 8 today, but a very pretty French girl - L'Hermione

Départ de La frégate Hermione Lafayette du port de Brest, Fort du Dellec, 2019

More about her here:

Hermione is the name of the French frigate with which the Marquis de La Fayette returned to Boston in 1780 to support the American colonists in their fight for independence. The ship was completed in 1779 in the naval arsenal of Rochefort in a construction period of just eleven months, based on plans by Henri Chevillard and identical in construction to three other ships (la Courageuse, la Concorde, la Fée). These new light frigates were characterised by their manoeuvrability and speed. The Hermione was equipped with 26 cannons that could fire projectiles weighing 12 French pounds "poid de marc" (489.5 g). This is where the name "twelve-gun frigate" comes from. She also carried six or eight six-pounder guns. The empty weight was 1166 tonnes, the hull length 44.2 m, the overall length 65 m, the width 11.55 m and the depth 5.78 m. A sail area of more than 1500 m² was spread over three masts.

She experienced several battles and when the First Coalition War broke out on 20 April 1792, the Hermione returned to active service under Captain Martin. From 7 May 1793, she escorted convoys between Bayonne and Brest. In September 1793, she was tasked with escorting a convoy between the Loire estuary and the streets of Brest. On 20 September 1793, she ran aground off Le Croisic. The Hermione had a serious leak in the hull and could not be refloated in the receding tide. The crew threw 12 cannons and anchors overboard to stabilise the ship. The rising sea lifted the Hermione for a while, but she was so damaged that she could no longer pump water and sank to the bottom, where her hull began to disintegrate. At 1000 hours the next morning, Martin evacuated his crew in several fishing boats that had come to the rescue, salvaging as much equipment as possible, and was the last to leave the frigate.

The court martial that followed the wreck found the frigate's pilot, Guillaume Guillemin du Conquet, responsible for the frigate's loss; its commander, Captain Martin, was honourably acquitted.

A replica of the frigate has been under construction in a dry dock at the former Rochefort naval arsenal since 1997. As the original construction plans had been burnt for safety reasons, new plans had to be drawn up. The plans of a sister ship from the British Naval Museum, the Concorde, served as a model. The reconstruction of the Hermione was financed in part by the proceeds from the survey, grants from the French government and the EU as well as donations.

After its completion, the Hermione was launched in 2014. She left her building dock in early September 2014 for initial sea trials off the French Atlantic coast and sailed to North America in 2015, where she stayed for four months before sailing back. From 2 February 2018, the Hermione undertook a second major sea voyage from Rochefort to the Mediterranean via Tangier, Sète, Marseille and Toulon.

[tedious-waffle]

I know its already been done but I’ve got Quibbles with others math so, imma put my Tommy Kinard Age calculations out there:

So, one thing I’ve seen is people using the Modern service requirements for the army “high school to flight school” program.

The minimum service comitment was changed 6 to 10 years only in 2020, so we can bring that down to 6 years for tommy.

With parental approval and either high school diploma or a GED, you Can enlist and join the “high school to flight school” program as early as 17 years old (and i bet tommy’s shitty dad would totally approve lmao) Soo theoretically if we give tommy the absolute Fastest possible route:

He joins at 17 and goes for the army’s “high school to flight school” program: so has 6 months of basic training + at minimum 1.5 years of flight school and warrant officer training.

So he’s at minimum 19.

Then I’m of two minds:

1) If he serves the full 6 years, he’d be 25.

2) There is a possibility thats he is even younger if he didnt serve the total of his 6 years if he was discharged.

Could be cause of injury or other reasons. Since he would be serving prior to 2011, we could even assume he got discharged for “Homosexual Conduct” under DADT lol. He could have gotten an Honorable Discharge, a General Discharge, or an Other Than Honorable (these were Technically Possible to get with a DADT violation, and wouldnt cause as much trouble with the LAFD like a Dishonorable Discharge would). If were really speed running him through it we could then estimate that he was only 19, right after flight school, and maybe Just started service before his discharge.

Either way, either he doesn’t re-up or gets discharged, lets say he then IMMEDIATELY decides to join the LAFD. Assuming he gets accepted right away, the academy in 6 months of training, and then hes got a minimum of 1 year as a probationary firefighter. So minimum +1.5 years.

So hes either 26.5 if be served his 6, or minimum 20.5 if he was discharged earlier.

If we assume he has Just finished he probation when Chim joins in 2005, that means that in 2024, 19 year later, Tommy is at the at between 39.5-45.5

So being like literally the MOST generous: having him enlist at 17, And even with the minimum 6year service hes 45. And even having him discharged as soon as possible after finishing flight school at 19, he’s still Almost 40 at minimum.

And all of thats is assuming like no gaps: that he joins the military as soon as possible, that he wasn’t at the 118/ in the LAFD for linger before Chim joined, that he didn’t serve More than his initial contract, that that contract was actually the absolute minimum of 6years and not more, and that he didnt re-up for more that one tour (and i mean based on the implication of him having a house with room for a car lift and muay thai up in LA, like… he would make a lot more money the longer he served lol.

So anyway with 45 being the minimum if he wasnt discharged, its really not that hard to very reasonably get him up to his 50s

[bruderherzlove]

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[vintagelasvegas]

Friday night flight through bars of Fremont East. Jaybyrd Films.

The buildings on the 500-block of Fremont Street date from the 30s-50s when Fremont was the economic and retail core of the city. Anchored by a Sears that stood across the street at 601 Fremont, the JC Penney's chain built 520 Fremont in '52. In that same year Joe Shoong and Richard Tam's National Dollar Store built 501 Fremont.

Retail and service business slowly abandoned downtown Fremont Street in the 60s-80s as the city spread out into new neighborhoods. Sears closed in '65, Penny's in the late 70s.

Beauty Bar, opened May 2006 at 517 Fremont, was the first of what would become the current bar and live music scene, followed by The Griffin later that year. The City of Las Vegas developed plans for Fremont East District, budgeting $5.5 million on widening the sidewalks, adding a median, creating neon signs and an archway over the Las Vegas Blvd entrance. The signs completed the project in summer 2007.

The flight path of the video passes through:

Park on Fremont, 506 Fremont, built in '56.

Discopussy, 512 Fremont, built in '58, formerly retail clothing Leeds, Eatons, Bartnetts.

Lucky Day, 516 Fremont, built in '51 for Leeds.

We All Scream and Cheapshot, 517 Fremont. The date for this building is unclear. It's seen in '72 as Herb & Marv's Menswear.

La Mona Rosa, 100 S. 6th, and Commonwealth 525 Fremont. City Laundry & Dry Cleaner opened the 6th St location in the 30s, and expanded with the construction of 525 Fremont in '43.

David McGrath Schwartz. Fremont Revival Sought. Review-Journal, 7/2/2006; David McGrath Schwartz. Plans Advance for Fremont East. Review-Journal, 12/21/2006; Dressing Up Downtown. Review-Journal, 6/30/2007; Fremont East District Gets a Face-Lift. Review-Journal, 7/1/2007.

[callmewrinkles3]

This Love - DR3 x fem!OC

Summary: An escape to Perth for a week helps Dan and Em to realise what they want. But they each have a secret to tell that could rip them apart before they can begin to fix each other.

Words: 5.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy loss, retirement talk, smut (piv sex, fingering, light choking)

A/N: A day later than planned, but the continuation of what’s going on to our babes in 2022! This part deals with some pretty heavy themes, so look after yourselves. Take this as a present for the 300 followers. Hope you like it and lots of love! 💜

June 2022

When Dan helped Em to bed that Monday night she didn’t really sleep. The fog that had clouded her thoughts and judgment basically since she’d left London was lifting and it was like coming back to 4K from an old VHS tape. The way she’d buried her thoughts and self in anything except thinking about what happened, the weight she’d lost, the way she didn’t feel like herself anymore. She’d buried her head in the sand and hadn’t realised what was going on until it was too late. She didn’t want to be like this anymore.

Having Dan there at her side helped. They’d decided to delay their conversation for the summer break, booking flights to LA to leave soon after the race there. It was a week talking about everything and building their relationship and a week of wine tours to celebrate her birthday. She knew it would be hard and they’d both struggle at points but it needed to happen. They were committed. They were going to tell the world about their relationship in Baku. It was going to work out for them. It had to.

Em tried to push the thoughts swirling in her brain aside but it didn’t work, her sleep fitful. She woke up to Dan kissing her forehead and she smiled up at her boyfriend. He was right there beside her and that wasn’t changing. He wasn’t leaving her. She could do this. She could talk to him about anything.

Grace and Joe were staying in Monaco and using it as a base to visit family in Italy while Em and Dan were packing for three weeks away, from Perth to Baku to Montreal. She had her packing list on her phone and Dan pulled it out of her hand.

“What happened to your screen?” He ran his finger along the broken glass, a plastic screen protector barely holding it together.

“It broke when I was away.”

“How?” She blinked and took a breath before answering. It was probably the most embarrassed she felt about how she acted when she was gone.

“I threw it against a wall.” That was a story for another day.

“We’ll get you a new one. It’s not safe to use like this.”

“Danny, it’s fine. I can get the screen changed.”

“No. Baby you’re gonna hurt yourself on it. You’ve had it nearly three years, you need an upgrade anyway.”

“Fine.” He kissed her and she smiled, not truly annoyed at him as he went to the bathroom. She was filling the case mostly for Baku and Montreal, she had clothes in Perth still. They were old but they’d work for while she was there.

Dan came out of the bathroom with the two toiletry bags, passing her the purple one she put in her checked bag and the clear one that went into her hand luggage. Em smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I put a box of tampons in too. It’s about time you’ll need them, right?” The casual way he said it made her want to smile, but it nearly broke her at the same time. She had to tell him everything.

“Things shifted when I was away. But better safe than sorry.” They finished backing and Dan held her for a few moments as she got herself ready to leave. Final hugs went to everyone else before they went to Nice airport to start the trek to Perth.

Dan held her hand the entire way in the car, and for once they decided to take advantage of the VIP service the airport had. Usually they didn’t bother, but today it was worth it. They were escorted through security and to the lounge to sit and wait for their flight to Dubai. It was packed, a side effect of it being the day after the Grand Prix. Most of the other drivers who didn’t live in Monaco had already left the principality but they were ignored by most of the clients there. Another Formula One driver wasn’t a big deal. They spotted Kevin with his wife and daughter sitting a few tables away, smiling and waving to them.

As she watched Laura sit in Louise’s arms, babbling away, Em felt another pang of longing and loss hit her. The memories of that day four weeks ago when she realised her planned but delayed trip to the pharmacy for a test wasn’t needed anymore. That the suspicions she’d had but was too afraid to confirm for a few weeks were right but she was too late. Sobbing on her childhood bedroom floor clutching her knees to her chest because she was in the worst physical and emotional pain she could think of. She was losing the last piece of Dan she thought she’d ever have.

He needed to know. She needed to tell him and it couldn’t wait until August. It couldn’t wait for months because, selfishly, she couldn’t live with the guilt of not telling him if it was what would break them in the end. The internet had told her that it wasn’t her fault. That losing a pregnancy before twelve weeks was common, that late periods because of stress were normal. That running your pill together for three months and then not taking it for two could throw your cycle into chaos.

She had no true proof of what had happened apart from her symptoms and suspicions but it was enough for her to know. The way the constant exhaustion had eased, how the tenderness in her chest calmed within hours. The nausea she’d had stopping even though she didn’t want to eat. The nearly two week long period when before she was ever on the pill she’d been like clockwork.

Em knew the truth of what she’d lost. And she knew telling Dan was going to hurt both of them. Now that she could think clearly there was no alternative to telling him. She should have tried to get in touch no matter what to tell him and he deserved to know now.

She was quiet on the flight to Dubai, both of them taking a nap through it. Em woke to Dan’s hand on hers, his arm stretched awkwardly over the screen between them so he could hold onto her. He loves her. That was what could get her through until they were alone.

Arriving in Dubai meant that they were escorted to the first class lounge to wait out the three hours of their connection. As they got to the door Em stopped dead in her tracks. Dan was pulled back by his hand because of it and he watched her stare at the door.

“Emmy? Is everything ok?” He asked as she shook her head and bit back the tears she wanted to let out.

“We haven’t been here since last year.” She could see the moment the realisation hit him of their last time in the lounge together. When they said goodbye and he was going to Perth for New Years and she had to go back to London. The beginning of the end of everything.

“We’re going to find a table and sit, ok? Just you and me and some food. That’s all, Baby girl.”

“Ok.”

He found them a seat on the opposite side of the lounge to last time, both of them slipping into seats. Food was brought to them that Em didn’t want to eat but made herself take some bites. Dan’s arm was around her as he held her close and pushed kisses against her head. Fuck the rules, they needed this closeness.

The second flight from Dubai to Perth was eleven long hours as they fought to stay awake to try stave off jet lag. It was caffeine and watching films together, pressing the play button on their screens so they could watch them at the same time. The flight passed slowly but she held Dan’s hand whenever she could. They stayed connected like that as they got off the plane and she put her carry on over her arm to go through immigration and customs. They only let go when she had to join the non Australian line at immigration. Dan watched and waited for her as he was already through.

“What’s the reason for your visit?”

“We’re seeing my boyfriend’s family. I’ve only seen them once in the last two years and I had to leave Melbourne pretty quickly when I did. We have a spare week so wanted to see them.”

“Is your boyfriend Australian? Is he travelling with you?”

“Yes he is. He’s already through if you look behind you.”

Even in a hoodie and jeans to beat the Aussie winter Dan’s smile was infectious. It was the same grin as on nearly every Optus ad in the country and Em could tell the exact moment he was recognised.

“Oh, of course. Enjoy being back.”

She rarely used Dan’s celebrity for her own good, if ever, but it was worth it now to get through without extra questioning. Instead they collected the bags and went through quarantine with a smile and handing over the entry cards. The treats that they’d brought back were approved and just over an hour after landing they were in the familiar surrounds of Perth international arrivals. Joe had given them the keys to his car so they didn’t need to rent one. Instead they piled their bags into the boot to go straight to the farm. It wasn’t too cold for Em but Dan hated the thirteen degree weather and put the heat on as soon as they got into the car.

Their original plan had been to get to Michelle’s from the airport to see everyone but they couldn’t face it. Em was desperate for the hugs from her niece and nephew, for Michelle to wrap her in the big sister hugs that felt so good, but she couldn’t keep her emotions together if she saw them. It took all of three minutes to choose takeout to order on the way home to the farm. They sat at the table as Em nibbled the pizza she’d gotten while Dan ate chicken and rice that mostly fit his race diet. Once they were finished they curled into bed, wrapped around each other.

They lay there in the dark, quiet room, not sleeping or speaking. Em took a deep breath and let out a sigh as everything was screaming at her to speak.

“Penny for them?” Dan asked and she blinked, looking up at him and realising that this was the moment she had to say everything out loud for the first time. “There’s been something on your mind since you came back, right? What’s going on Wrinkles? You know you cal always tell me anything.”

“I’m afraid if I tell you then you’ll hate me.” His arms tightened against her while she closed her eyes and felt a kiss pressed to her forehead. He was there. He wouldn’t leave.

“I can’t hate you. I promise, Baby. I could never hate you. I love you. If you want to wait we can until we’re in LA and we have our talk. It’s whatever you w—“

“No. I need to tell you now.” Em pressed a kiss against his chest, holding onto him so tightly that she thought she might break him for a moment. “I…Fuck. When I was in Liverpool I was late. I was really, really late Danny.”

His sharp intake of breath was enough to tell her he’d heard what she said, but he stayed quiet and pushed his lips to her head until she was ready to keep speaking. Em took a couple of quiet breaths before continuing.

“I had a plan. I was gonna take a test to confirm, and when it came up positive I was gonna call you after the race. You had a right to know, y’know? I wouldn’t have kept that from you. I swear, Dan, I never could have done that. But the day I had the courage to buy it and take it I wasn’t late anymore.” Trying to get the words out felt like a clog in her throat. Tears streamed down her face as she forced herself to push everything else out. “Remember when we were here for lockdown and how I was when things got too much? I was like that and I was alone and in pain and I was so sad. I didn’t know I wanted a baby. But I really wanted your baby. And then I had one and I lost our baby and it’s my fault and I’m so sorry, Danny. I’m so, so, so sorry for losing them. I’m sorry.”

Her sobs overtook her but Dan sat up in the bed and pulled her to him. She didn’t know how they ended up like that but she was in his lap. His arms wrapped around her as he rubbed her back, soothing her and trying to calm her tears. She’d lost their baby and the only things going through her head was that it was her fault and if she’d looked after herself and not let herself be so upset and angry then things would have been different. It was her fault. It had to be her fault, it couldn’t be anyone else’s fault because she was the one who couldn’t keep their baby safe. As her tears began to slow and the wracking sobs eased she could hear Dan’s constant murmurs while she calmed down.

“How can I blame you, my Emmy? It’s not your fault and I will never, ever say it is. You’re so fucking brave, Baby. You’re so brave for getting through this and doing it by yourself and I wasn’t there to help you and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so, so sorry that you didn’t think you could ask for help. I’d have been there in a minute, fuck everything else. Nothing else matters except you and me, Baby. You are wonderful and strong and brave and it’s going to happen for us. When we’re ready to have a kid we’ll get to. I promise you. You’re going to be ok. We’re going to get through this, you and me, like always.”

She clung to him as he spoke, a weight lifting off her shoulders. The miscarriage had been in the back of her mind ever since it happened, even when she hadn’t realised it was there. She’d been ignoring it since that day, nobody knew. But it was real. They’d lost their baby and she had hurt so badly because they had but they were going to be ok. They were going to make it.

“You back with me?” Dan asked as she stopped sobbing and he wiped at her eyes. His thumb wiped the tears away and all Em could see when she looked up at him was love. He loved her. Even after all this, even after her failure, he still loved her.

“Yeah I am. I’m not ok. I’m really not doing ok Danny.” They were some of the hardest words she’d had to say.

“I love you so fucking much. So much. I always knew you were brave anyway. Anyone who’s seen the crap said in the paddock knows that about you. You are amazing and wonderful and kind. We both know this is the kind of thing so many people have nightmares about. And you, my amazing and strong girlfriend, went through this on your own.” A watery smile went across her face as Dan pecked her lips quickly. “I’m sad we’re never going to meet that baby. I’m so sad we won’t get to see them grow up. But the worst part is that you went through that without anyone to support you. I’d have been there in a heartbeat if I knew. When did it happen?”

“The week of the race in Miami.” The pain was clear on both their faces. “I nearly texted Michael so many times. There was a photo of you—“

“The blonde who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Yeah. I saw that photo the day after it happened. Started. I guess. I tried writing and deleting a text a hundred times to ask him if you’d moved on but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to know.”

“Oh Emmy, baby. I was never going to move on from you. Ever.”

She believed him. She believed every word he said, every moment of them together. And that realisation made her curl against him even tighter.

“I’m so tired, Danny. I’m so, so tired.”

“You just sleep. We’ll see the kids in the morning before they go to school and we can pick them up after to bring them to dinner. Sound good?”

“That sounds really good.”

It was probably too early to go to sleep but for the first time in a week Em slept well with Dan’s arms tightly wrapped around her. She woke up to him shifting in his sleep with his lips against her forehead as he slept. She smiled as she woke and kept her head on his chest before Dan’s alarm went off to wake them.

“You up?” He asked as Em twisted her neck to loop up at him again.

“Yeah. You?”

“Just about. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She let out a breath she didn’t even know that she was holding as Dan caught her in a kiss. He grinned against her lips before letting go and watching her for a moment.

“I’ll put coffee on, we can get breakfast out later?”

“Perfect.”

They were able to take their time getting ready. Dan watched as Em got dressed in clothes she’d kept there, putting her jeans on and pulling the belt tight against her. It was an old belt but it was in a new notch. The jeans that she’d owned since the Chinese Grand Prix were loose around her legs and it felt wrong. She was physically and mentally exhausted and worn out and desperately needed to relax and spend time with Dan. He held her hand as they got into the car, Dan the one who drove back to Michelle’s home.

They arrived just in time as Michelle hurried the kids out the door to go to school. Isaac started asking who was in his grandpa’s car but when Em opened the passenger door and stepped out there were two excited yells as they sprinted to her. The force nearly knocked her backwards into the side of the car but Dan held her arm so she could keep on her feet. Bending down for hugs Isabella wrapped her arms around Em’s neck to be lifted for a cuddle and Isaac followed suit.

She shouldn’t have been able to lift them up. Not with how tired she felt, not with how weak she felt. But she made herself stand up with them in her arms. Dan’s hands were supporting her lift and helped her stay upright as she did, grabbing onto them and holding close. Michelle ran towards them in surprise and once the kids were standing on solid ground Em got a hug from her too. She was home and in her sister’s arms and even with how awful her body felt this was good.

Michelle had to go back to work but they both promised to be back for when the kids finished school to take the family out for dinner. But Dan and Em ended up in a hipster breakfast place Dan found online, sitting next to each other in the booth. She sat there with her caramel latte and avocado toast with a poached egg and listened to Dan’s accent get thicker the more he spoke to people. They could both tell he’d been recognised but the nice thing about Perth was that people left him alone there.

“I think this is technically our first date,” Em murmured and watched as he frowned and thought.

“Fuck. You’re right. I always figured our first official date would be something fancy. Bring you somewhere you deserve.”

“We’re sitting in Perth having breakfast together. It’s the first of many.”

“Yeah it is.” He grinned and gripped her hand while they finished what they were eating before leaving the cafe.

Em just followed Dan down the semi familiar streets. So much had changed in the two years since she’d been in Perth, stores closed and new ones taking their place. They held hands in the weak winter sun, still warm on her skin compared to England. Dan walked like a man on a mission until they arrived at their destination.

It was the Apple Store, quiet for the Thursday morning as they arrived. They went to the phones immediately, Em looking at Dan.

“You need a new phone, Baby. One that isn’t going to cut your hand. Which size do you need for everything?”

“Danny I can get this fixed.”

“Please? Fresh start. New phone, new iPad. You need a new iPad for work anyway, it was upgrade time. So we’ll get it all now.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, both of them smiling as they separated from their first kiss in public. Em was still nervous about it and would have rathered just get her phone fixed but she knew what Dan was like when he got an idea in his head. So she held his hand as he explained exactly what they wanted.

“So it’s two 13 Pro Max phones, each one terabyte. Can we get a gold and a silver one? And an eleven inch iPad Pro with as much memory as you have.” Dan put the other accessories he’d picked up on the table beside the sales assistant, two cases for the iPad - one with a keyboard and one without - and two phone cases. Em’s was purple leather, Dan’s a bright blue silicone. She felt overwhelmed with the amount of money Dan was spending on her but just gripped his hand as he put it through his card. It was for them. Them as a couple, nobody else. It was worth it.

Instead of going back to the farm to come back to town they found a coffee shop to set up their new purchases. It felt a little ridiculous but Em loved it as Dan pulled her in for a selfie as he gave her a kiss on the cheek and set it as his Lock Screen. This was real. It was them.

“We’ll talk to Blake in Baku about when you start coming back to work? You left things easy for him to pick up so if you want some time you’ve got it.”

“What are you talking about, Dan?” She looked at him carefully. She’d quit her job. She didn’t have anything to go back to.

“I assumed you’d want to come back to work? If you don’t that’s fine. If you need time or anything it’s totally fine. But it’s there for you.”

“What about your new assistant?”

“What new assistant?”

It made the tears want to come out again. They hadn’t replaced her. She thought people were just keeping her replacement away but they hadn’t. They still wanted her. They always had wanted her and she’d walked away.

“Em. Emmy, look right at me ok? You and me.” She blinked the tears back to stare at Dan as he squeezed her hand. “We couldn’t even think about replacing you. Never. You’re right here and not going anywhere. And if you want to come back you’ll slot back in. If you don’t want to come back to work that’s also fine. It’s up to you.”

“I didn’t think I could come back.” The words were slow to leave her mouth, each one an effort as her panic started to recede.

“We wanted you back as soon as we could find you, Baby.”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“For loving me.”

“Always.”

Dinner at Michelle’s was fun. The kids enjoyed seeing their Auntie Emmy and Uncle Daniel when it was least expected, and the idea of a sleepover for two whole nights was exciting. Most of it was casual until Michelle half cornered Em in the kitchen.

“Are you ok?” She asked and Em shook her head.

“I…no. The last two months haven’t been good. But we’re getting through it.” Michelle wrapped her in a hug and it felt so, so good. They were close together for a moment and Michelle kissed her cheek.

“If you need anything we’re right here. No matter what’s happening between you and Dan we’re here. Especially if my idiot brother needs a reality check.”

“Don’t call my boyfriend an idiot. But no, it was both of us. We’re fixing it. It’ll take time.”

“Still, if either of you need anything. We might be the other side of the world but we’re here for you.”

“Thanks. For all of it.”

They left before it got too late, the two of them exhausted from jet lag and a busy day. Dan navigated the turns back to the farm easily, his hand on Em’s thigh. When they got inside she sat on the couch, opening the iPad to set it up.

“I haven’t looked at my emails since I left Melbourne. It’s going to be scary to look at, isn’t it?” As she finished speaking there was a crash, Dan smashing a glass that had been in his hand. “Danny?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. You haven’t looked at your email since then?”

“No. Why?”

“Fuck. I thought you knew.” He sat beside her and took her hand, Em staring at him as he did. “Two days before you came back I sent you an email. I…I’m retiring at the end of the year.”

“What?” The words were going around her head. Retiring. Dan. It didn’t feel right.

“Racing’s taken everything from me. It nearly took you from me. I can’t do this again. I can’t, Baby girl. I can’t do it. I’m not happy anymore, I hate this team, I hate the way they treat you and act about you. How they don’t listen to me and keep blaming me when it’s the fucking car. So I’m out at the end of the year.”

“Don’t do this for me. If you start doing this because of me you’re going to regret it.” The naked fear that he’d start hating her because of this decision filled Em. She didn’t know what she’d do if he hated her.

“It’s not just you. I don’t—“

“Do you still love racing?”

“Yeah. But not with McLaren. Not in this car. It’s fucking toxic.” She squeezed his hand and kissed him carefully.

“Then we’ll find a team for you. But don’t retire like this. Don’t let them chase you out of the sport you’ve loved. You’re the king of fucking Monaco, Danny. You’re an eight times Grand Prix winner, and you haven’t bottled multiple podiums the way your teammate has. I believe in you. So if you want to retire because it’s time then do it. If it’s like Kimi and you’ve done what you want to do. But not because you think it’s your only option. Don’t do that.”

His expression changed and Dan pulled her close. Kisses pushed against her head and she smiled up at him to kiss him properly.

“Do you really mean that? Mind another couple of years of travelling around the world?”

“I mean every word. This is your time, Danny. And in a couple of years we’ll move back and it’s my time. Deal?”

“Deal.”

He didn’t respond, instead lifting Em up and carrying her to the bedroom carefully. Her legs wrapped around his waist while he did, arms holding onto his neck for dear life. But she knew Dan wouldn’t drop her. She trusted him not to.

When they made it to the bedroom it was fumbling fingers, both trying to get the other naked and hold on at the same time. She gasped as Dan undid the clasp on her bra, his hands cupping her boobs for the first time in too long. He lavished kisses against them until he was interrupted by Em taking his shirt off, pulling her too him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

She moaned as Dan’s fingers slid through her folds, feeling where she was wet and slowly playing with her to make sure she was fully ready for sex. He held onto her cheek with the other hand. They each pushed soft kisses to their faces while they got ready, but finally Em positioned herself and slid onto Dan. The stretch as he entered her was perfect, everything she didn’t know she’d missed.

Every time Em tried to get a rhythm going Dan held her at her hip, slowly thrusting. It was shallow and didn’t feel like him, didn’t feel the way they always had sex. It just felt wrong and that terrified her. From the first time they’d slept together they’d always managed to make sex work. And now it felt wrong and if this was a sign of things to come then they wouldn’t be able to save themselves. She couldn’t lose him. Not like this. Not after everything they were fighting for.

“You can go like normal.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” It was like a punch in the gut but Em held firm and looked at him. Her hand caught his chin and made him look into her eyes.

“I need my Danny back. I need the Danny who doesn’t treat me like I’m about to break back, the one who knows exactly what we need. We know each other so well, we know what we have. If we’re scared of each other this isn’t going to work for us. Baby, please. I love you and I believe in you.”

Em didn’t know what possessed her to do it but she took Dan’s hand from her cheek and carefully pressed kisses to each digit. The final one went to the centre of his palm. Watching Dan’s face carefully she pulled his hand from her lips and pushed it to the centre of her neck.

It had been their thing for so long she’d forgotten how it started. Her riding Dan, his hand on her throat controlling how she moved. She trusted him with all of it, with her. It was the ultimate way of showing how she felt.

“I love you and I trust you. Let me feel you, Baby.”

“I love you so fucking much.”

After the first proper thrust Em didn’t remember much else from the sex they had. She knew she came more than once because Dan would never let her be otherwise, and she knew his back was covered in scratch marks from her nails. Her boobs had love bites marked into them to mark her as Dan’s. The small spots where he gripped her hips to bounce her up and down would darken to fingertip bruises as well. There was a hickey on Dan’s collarbone that she knew Michael would kill her for but she didn’t care. It would fade.

But it felt right. It felt good. It was tiring and she was sore but Dan was all around her and it was everything. He brought her into the bathroom and ran the bath, helping her in and settle beside him. He even remembered a hair tie so her hair didn’t get wet.

“We’re going to make it.” Em said it determinedly, her voice quiet in the room. Dan pulled her even closer as she did.

“We’re gonna make it, Emmy. You and me, like we promised.”

“Yeah. We are.”

Dan helped her out of the bath and they got ready for bed, curling up with Em lying over him. A day ago she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, but now it felt like a new life for them.

“Ready for a weekend of chaos? I thought we could do the Zoo with the kids on Saturday, and Sunday bring them to the cinema and send them home hyper on sugar. Plus they want to spend time with you.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. We’re lucky to have them.” She could feel exhaustion hitting and kissed Dan’s chest once. “Gonna go sleep now. Love you.”

“Love you too, Emmy. Sleep well.”

For the first time in too many months, Em fell into a dreamless sleep with her boyfriend’s arms tight around her.

Taglist: @dr3lover @sabrinaselina55 @majx00 @tall-tanned-tattoo @lovingdennishauger @lauehr @msolbesg @f1medlife @idkwtfimdoing2 @leclercsbae @hiphopdancer101universe @mehrmonga @lewispool @saintandrea-droidsmuggler @coldheartedmar @sugarbabygirlofdaddy @nonsensical-nonce @a-distantdreamer @tita010 @leslizzle @javden @mloyer @magical-imagination-kgp @danarysstormborn @kakorrhaphiphobia @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @elizanav @neiich @luckyladycreator2 @scotlynaurora

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Be not inhospitable to strangers lest they be angels in disguise.

- W.B. Yeats

This is the quote from W.B. Yeats as a painted sign on the wall as you enter the famous bookstore Shakespeare and Company in Paris.

Strangers always found a welcome at Shakespeare and Company, where they could browse untroubled for hours, especially if they were aspiring writers themselves; and a few – well, a very few – of them may indeed have turned out to be angels, or at least angelic.

The original Shakespeare and Company shop was started in 1921 in the Rue de l’Odéon by Sylvia Beach, the daughter of a US Presbyterian minister. The first writer to patronise the shop was Gertrude Stein, but she fell out with Beach when she took up with James Joyce, whom Stein hated.

Beach published Joyce’s Ulysses when no established publisher would touch it, performing the arduous labour of love of proofreading it. Ernest Hemingway discovered the shop soon after his arrival in Paris, and wrote about it lovingly decades later in A Moveable Feast. When the Germans occupied Paris, Beach refused to sell a signed copy of Finnegans Wake to an invading officer. He said he would return for it the next day. So she moved all the books out and closed the shop. It was “liberated” by Hemingway himself in 1944. However, Beach didn’t have the heart to start again.

In 1948, after a wandering youth and war service, George Whitman came to Paris on the GI Bill, and in 1951 opened an English-language bookshop which he called Le Mistral. A few years later, he moved to the Rue de la Bûcherie, but didn’t rename the shop until after Beach’s death in 1961. He had been too shy to ask her if he could use the name, although they were friends and she used to come to readings at Le Mistral.

Whitman ran his shop as a species of anarchic democracy, even though in some respects he was a benevolent dictator. Anyone who called himself a writer could find a bed there, if there was one free, and stay as long as he liked or until Whitman got tired of him. The only rule for residents was that they must read a book a day and serve in the shop for an hour. One poet, or self-styled poet, who broke the second rule and lay in bed all day reading detective novels was ejected; but his chief offence was his choice of literature rather than his idleness.

The bookshop has its regulars, residents in Paris, not all of them English-speakers by any means, who use it as a sort of club and drop in for conversation and coffee.

Stock control has always been on the casual side. It’s not unknown for someone to lift a book from the shelves, slip it into his pocket, read it and return to sell it for the secondhand shelves the following day.

Inevitably, Shakespeare and Company has long been on the tourist trail, recommended in all the guides. This is just as well, because without their custom it’s hard to see how the shop could have survived. Many are in search of a copy of A Moveable Feast. This is not always on offer because, for some reason which I can’t remember, Whitman took a scunner to Hemingway. The tourists also toss coins into the well in the shop, and it’s not unusual to see an indigent young person lying on the floor and fishing for euros.

On occasion I drop in because the lure of its history is too much even if there are other good independent book stores nearby. Visitors to Paris always want me to take them there and I oblige them even if I feel its lost some of its past glory. Still, I always buy a few books because it’s the best way to support independent book stores in this age of Amazon, as every independent book store needs all the help it can get.

[praetoravila]

cause you got me, and baby, i got you

a/n: hi hello, i've been thinking about olive's family and thus you get this lol. here's an intro to wren, olive's older sister who is the reason she's in LA, and is the reason she's keeping out of trouble. taglist: @ceruleanmusings @raging-violets @myloveforhergoeson @happinessismagicc @selangkir @daughter-of-melpomene @bibaybe @nolanhollogay @joshdiaz

“There’s a new group in 2J.” Wren said, and Olive looked over her shoulder at her sister. The brunette haired girl was still dressed in her waitressing uniform, her hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. She looked dead on her feet.

“Oh really?” Olive asked, getting up to help Wren sit down on the couch. She could tell from the way she stood in the doorway of their apartment that Wren’s feet were killing her, even if she didn’t say it out loud.

“Yeah. A boy band apparently. From Minnesota.”

Olive raised an eyebrow. “Minnesota? How the hell did a boy band come from there?” She asked, and Wren shrugged. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “They’re cute. In the boy next door way.”

Olive snorted, walking away from the couch and sitting back in front of her notebook. “Of course you think that.”

“They are!” Wren said. “Besides, you need friends. You can’t be holed up in this apartment all day.”

Olive stared at her. “The tracking device on my ankle says otherwise.” She lifted her leg up, her overalls riding up as she shook her ankle purposefully. The tracking device beeped from the movement and she frowned.

Wren fixed her with a hard look and Olive bit down on her lip as she turned her gaze away.

“You and I both know that what happened is no excuse, Olive Josephina. You made a mistake, and you have already been punished for it. You have what? Another six months of community service? You might as well make it bearable by having fun when you aren’t at Costa Del Sol helping out with the old folks.”

Olive sighed. Her sister had a point. As much as she didn’t want to admit it.

“Fine. I’ll try to socialize more. But I have no interest in that boy band. Boy bands are so 1996.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “I have a feeling that once you see them, you’ll change your mind.”

[mister-eames]

hey love, fun question, I’m a firm believer that arthur can lift eames so do you have any idea about the first time it happened and eames and everyone being just so surprised about it?

Hello love! You're not wrong, this is a fun question - and I wholeheartedly agree with you! So, I have this rambunctious, hilarious coworker who is around 5'0, and her work 'party trick' is that she can lift anyone up by putting them on her shoulders - no matter who it is, how tall they are, how much they weigh, she can lift them up. And she has lifted almost everyone. Even the CEO of our company.

Anyway. With that in mind, this is pretty much how I imagine that first time went a little something like this:

--

"Let me try."

"No, I... almost...ahh... almost got it..."

The party continues on the floor above. And here Arthur is, locked in a cellar with Eames of all people.

For four, long consecutive minutes Arthur has watched Eames struggle to reach the top shelf of marks cellar in an effort to reach a vintage sherry for them to share.

Normally Arthur wouldn't indulge like this on a job and especially not with someone like Eames of all people. But they're stuck in here after all. Why not, Arthur reasons. Everything else has gone ass up, what's another thing to throw into the fire.

They came down here, disguised as party guests, looking for a safe and it's contents within. It's Arthur's fault that they're stuck here - he shut the door for privacy, unaware it would lock them from the inside. They tried to jimmy it open. No luck. They tried to call one of their team. No cell service. No way out until someone comes down.

So when Eames tilted his head towards the Great Wall of Alcohol with a clear suggestion Arthur thought fuck it, if he's gotta be stuck down here he might as well do it boozed up. They're at a party, aren't they?

"Atta boy," says Eames.

So they plucked the first bottle they saw and drank. And drank. And drank. And drank some more. It was on their second bottle of Merlot de la fucking-whatever that Eames spotted the sherry and made an attempt to grab it.

At first it was comical. Watching Eames grunt and groan, defeated by his own vertical deficit. Now it's just getting boring.

"Seriously," Arthur sighs. "Get out of the way."

"No."

"I'm taller than you."

"You are not," Eames scoffs, the exhale slightly strangled as he reaches further, swaying slightly on his tip-toes.

"Seriously."

"I... almost have it... just a little..."

He attempts to extend his arm further, only managing to tip sideways before righting himself.

For fucks' sake.

"Stand still," Arthur orders, stepping forward. "I'm giving you a boost. Don't move."

"You what - ?"

Arthur crouches into a deep squat between Eames legs, pressing the back of Eames' thighs to his shoulders. Before Eames can ask him what he's doing Arthur presses heavily into his heels and raises his arms, locking them around Eames' knees and steadying his stance, ensuring his weight is completely balanced.

Then he pushes upwards into a stand, taking Eames with him.

"Holy, fucking -- " Eames curses, tightening his calves against Arthur's torso as he he steadies himself. "You're fucking barmy."

"And you're heavy," Arthur grunts, adjusting his grip. "Hurry up and grab the damn sherry before I sprain something."

He hears the slide of glass against wood before Eames triumphant "Got it."

Slowly, he lowers back into a crouch, releasing his grip on Eames when both his feet are steady on the floor.

Eames whirls around, cheeks flushed with inebriety. "I'm impressed, Arthur. Didn't know you you had it in you."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur snatches the bottle from his grip, aiming to drink away the remnant feeling of Eames thighs on his shoulders. He twists the cork off with a satisfying pop. "Thank you for the condescension, Eames."

Eames watches Arthur drink a mouthful before passing it over to him. "Do you think anyone upstairs will notice we're gone and come and save us?"

The both look skywards as the bass audibly deepens overhead followed by a chorus of loud cheering from the party goers.

Sighing, Arthur lowers himself to the floor, resigning himself to a long, drunken night ahead.