#okay so maybe this turned into a ficlet

[psychofright]

Head-canon that adds to the whole “Vulcan’s are Feline in nature” concept because I really like it

Spock’s eyes are reflective like a cat’s. The crew (specifically Kirk and Bones) doesn’t find out until the ships power goes out for a time and they’re dead in space, relying only on backup generators to keep life support systems active.

When they go down to the engine room with nothing but flash lights to see, Spock is already there. He’s standing hunched over a panel, in near complete darkness, like something out of a horror film. Jim questions, “Spock…?”

The half-Vulcan turns around, the low light of the flash lights is reflecting off his pupils making them glow, in-human and strange.

Of course, Jim is mostly unfazed by this new discovery, while the sight of it makes McCoy come just short of having an aneurysm. “WHY are you all alone in the dark down here you freak!!” Bone’s eyes are practically bulging out of his skull.

Spock, eyebrow raised in borderline annoyance, just calmly states, “Vulcans have a superior ability to see in darkness, Doctor. I did not need a flashlight.”

[smallandsundry]

more of the bishova rugby au

plus some incredible ficlets from @simplykorra , @thecousinsdangereux and @strangelythirsty <3

Ficlet 1, by simplykorra:

"Kate?! What was that??" Clint's mad, like...sure, Kate shouldn't be suprised. She had a wide open run in front of her and just completely fucking dropped the ball and turned it over. But in her defense she did NOT know that the other team was allowed to cheat. Because that's absolutely what that was, cheating. Who the fuck flips their hair like that mid match? Who wipes the sweat off their forehead with the bottom of their shirt, showing off their insane abs in the middle of a match when it is quite obivous that someone on the other team is pathetically gay and crushing. That's the worst part, she has an insane crush and she really shouldn't. Because Yelena Belova is the enemy, or so has been said in every practice leading up to this game. She's the best player on that team, one of the best they'll face all year, and Kate had this big, annoying speech about how she could handle her. Then one peek of abs and Kate's losing her shit, dropping the ball and now getting yelled at by her coach - who is still yelling, right. She needs to pay attention. "Sorry!" She grins, because smiling always gets her out of stuff. "Butterfingers or whatever, you know? It's hot out here today. Sweat and...stuff...you know how it goes." Clint eyes her, then looks over her shoulder to something on the other side of the pitch. When Kate looks back, Yelena is looking right at her, with the most annoying smirk on her face. Then, like she KNOWS Clint is also looking, Yelena winks at her. "Oh my god." Clint says and Kate turns in a hurry to see him rolling his eyes. "Seriously? That's why you dropped the ball? Natasha's cranky little sister?" Kate takes a deep breath, a thousand excuses coming and going through her head. She could pluck any one of them and it would probably be enough to put an end to this conversation. But she knows that she has to go back out there again and will probably look into Yelena's eyes again and will DEFINITELY do something else stupid when that happens. "I don't know what you want me to say, coach. She's really hot." "Yeah, and we're really losing. Do you think she's gonna want to buy you a drink if you go out there and keep fumbling the ball like your hands are made of butter?" Kate shrugs, "I mean, dopey and gay has kinda worked for me so far, you saw the wink." "Okay, look, it's my fault for starting this conversation but I'm not the one to talk to about your crush." "Whoa, who said anything about a-" His raised eyebrows puts an end to her sentence. "I'll just...close my eyes whenever she's in my field of view." "Or you could get your shit together and just play the game." The whistle blows as the timeout comes to an end and Kate looks back just in time to see Yelena trotting out onto the field, not once taking her eyes off of Kate. When she looks back to Clint, she grimaces. "I'll close my eyes." It doesn't work. They lose the game. But Kate manages to get that drink afterwards. One more win for dopey and gay.

Ficlet 2, by thecousinsdangereux:

Kate had done a really admirable job of keeping her focus.

This is, at least, what she keeps telling herself at the half. Or maybe, probably, more like reminding herself, with the explicit objective of convincing herself not to look over towards the opposing team's bench. Because looking over towards the opposing team during warm-ups is what had gotten her in this mess in the first place, if said mess could be called a mess because really! she'd done a super admirable job of keeping her focus in the face of the absolutely fucking smoke show on the other team. The one with the thighs and the hair and the skills and general overall attractiveness that Kate had definitely not been distracted by at all.

(During the game, specifically. Never mind warm ups. Or now.)

"It's like you can hear her thoughts," Greer says, ostensibly to Franny, but mostly to fuck with Kate.

''Don't look at number two, don't look at number two, don't look at number two.'"

“'No matter how many times we sensually locked eyes in the middle of a competitive match.’"

"Number two is not showing the same restraint," Franny comments, dropping the mocking internal commentary quickly. "She is looking right over here and — yeah, okay, damn ��  she's lifting her shirt to wipe the sweat off her face. Jesus."

Kate twists her neck with enough speed that something pops and fine, she's not doing a great job with that whole focus thing and who cares? Hot blonde has abs and Kate is gay and there were more important things than rugby and winning and pride and... other stuff that Kate would definitely be able to list if number two hadn't — at that exact moment — decided to look up and (without dropping her shirt! which! fuck!) smile, too crooked to be anything but smug.

"Yeah, okay, we're going to lose," Greer declares. "Pack it in, folks! Kate is too gay to function! Might as well call the game now!"

She definitely says it loud enough to be heard across the field. Kate sneaks a peek and, yeah, number two definitely hears it.

"You're the worst friend I've ever had."

Except maybe not, because the blonde doesn't exactly look put out by any of it. She's (mercifully) dropped her shirt, and this time when she holds Kate's stare, she lifts a hand to wave, with just the tips of her fingers. It's short-lived, because the team's coach (a redhead who — it has to be said — also has a lot going for her) yanks the girl back over to the bench by the back of her shirt and begins to lay into her in a language that sounds Slavic. The blonde rolls her eyes, but is (apparently) not especially deterred, because she looks back over at Kate with an expression that's full of dry humor.

('Do you see what I put up with for you?' Kate imagines her saying, in that accent that she'd definitely noticed on the field and had definitely found attractive and would definitely like to hear in other contexts. Such as for example — )

"Holy shit, Kate. You're drooling."

"I'm not drooling." She's not, but does wipe at her mouth as she pulls her stare away, back towards her own bench.

Ficlet 3, by strangelythirsty:

Kate thanks the gods, and more specifically, the athletic commission, who okay’d each teams’ uniforms. Previously it was because the new board leader agreed for her team to change out the old fashioned cotton for the good moisture wicking material. Which is its own thing. But this?

She hasn't seen as good an argument against the old cotton shirts as this one.

“The ball!” A distant voice says, but that's not important right now. What is is the expanse of abs she's seeing — which is currently beading with sweat, and okay she's heard the arguments, abs are for vanity more than function, yada yada yada. But who can argue with these results?

“The ball!” The voice says, now closer than it was.

She blinks because the shirt (which was hiked up to be used as a towel) has dropped back down. Oh right, the game. She picks up the ball at the last possible minute, the rival team had come close to grabbing it where it fell from her hands only a second ago. No need for her coach to be looking like he was going to have a stroke, that was a little dramatic.

It doesn't matter because she grabs the ball anyway, side steps the tackle, and takes off back down the field.

By the time the first half is over, they're still down two points, a simple goal would put them over the edge.

Later, she'll blame the coach for making the call for the play, and maybe, a little bit could have been the way she's completely distracted with Captain Belova tackling her.

The pass was clean, the team nearly in place for her to throw the ball, but she sees the streak of short blonde hair and white and red getting closer. Instead of looking for the next best teammate to throw the ball to for the score, she looks at Captain Belova, expression intensely focused, full lips pulled back exposing beautiful teeth in a snarl (beautiful teeth? She’ll later think, get it together, Bishop). But right now? Belova’s shoulder meets her midsection in a perfect tackle, the air leaving her lungs and the ball flings from her grasp as she goes — right into the rival team’s number two, who runs it down the line in a game clenching score.

The rest of the teams take off down the field to follow the action, but Yelena sits up, legs straddling hers. “Distracted, Kate?”

“Oh fuck off, Yelena. You didn't tell me you were working on your abs.” Kate laughs, poking her stomach through her shirt, feeling the warm skin and wet shirt.

She's going to get her back for that, somehow.

[navybrat817]

hi navy!!! I might be too late, but I was hoping to send in a request for ficlet Friday with Bucky Barnes and the prompt "shoulders hunched over a chopping board, carefully dissecting fruit to deliver it to you in a bowl" and maybe avenger!bucky x avenger!reader if possible??

Thank you so much!!! <333

Hi, nonnie! I hope you like where I took this.

Better Tomorrow

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: You get a small injury on a mission and it's part of the job, but Bucky still hates it.

Word Count: Over 950

Warnings: Established relationship, small injury, touch of angst, comfort, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You were careful to keep your breathing even when you got up from the couch. If Bucky heard you hiss or groan in pain, he’d rush to your side and demand to know why you got up. He’d also put you right back where you were sitting and remind you not to move. It was sweet when you thought about it and you adored that he wanted to coddle you for a bit, but there was no need.

A bullet grazed your arm on a mission earlier, a superficial wound. It wasn’t the first time that a mission ended with an injury nor was it a big deal. Deep down you felt that it didn’t make a difference to Bucky how artificial the wound was because you still got hurt. For a second you thought he’d kill the man who shot you, but he held back. And by holding back that bad guy would be spending some time in the hospital before he went to jail.

Tiptoeing toward the kitchen in the hopes that your boyfriend’s heightened hearing wouldn’t detect you, you froze when you spotted him behind the island. His hair down, wearing a white tank top, his shoulders hunched over as he carefully cut up pieces of fruit. The sight put a smile on your face and made your heart turn over.

Bucky was an Avenger. Both of you were. But this? Seeing your man in a domestic environment? It reminded you just how human you both were, that you could be vulnerable beneath the strength.

“You’re not resting,” he said, his eyes flickering to yours. He either heard you or he was that attuned to you. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been resting and I’m fine,” you smiled. He had already given you something for the pain, your favorite blanket and a book, and you could only sit for so long. “I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to continue the task with a look of indifference, but you knew better. He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and that wasn’t fair.

“You’re not, Bucky,” you gently spoke, taking a step forward.

“No, I’m not. Because you got hurt and I couldn’t stop it,” he confessed, letting out a breath and confirming what you thought. It was nothing more than a whisper, but it felt like he screamed it from the depths of his soul.

Your heart broke for him. He took the blame into himself when it wasn’t his fault, punished himself for crimes he didn’t commit. You wouldn’t let him do that tonight. Not when he was a hero and your loving partner.

“We’re Avengers, Bucky. We help people. We may get hurt along the way and it’s a risk we take, but it isn’t your fault if one of us does,” you told him, seeing a swirl of emotions in his blue eyes. “The guy who chose to shoot at me is the one to blame, not you.”

“So why do I feel so terrible?” he whispered.

“Because you love me and you don’t want me in pain. Maybe you even thought for a moment that you’d lose me,” you answered, your heart contracting when he flinched. You understood that fear all too well when it came to him. “But I’m here and I’m okay.”

Bucky set the knife down and flexed his fingers, his eyes shutting for only a moment before he rounded the island to get to you. You moved forward on instinct and met him halfway so he could pull you into his arms. You fisted a hand in his tank top and wanted to burrow your face in his broad chest, your heart beating faster as you breathed each other in. He was safe, and so were you.

“I can’t lose you, baby. I can’t,” he said, his voice tight, careful not to squeeze your arm when he tightened his hold. He would never ask you to stop being an Avenger since he was out there doing the same thing, but injuries reminded him of the tough parts about being a hero.

“You won’t,” you said. You were both strong, capable. If you left the world tomorrow, you’d still be with him because your heart was his. You wouldn’t lose him either.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, and finally your lips. It’s so soft yet so passionate that you couldn’t stop the tears from burning behind your eyelids.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, blinking the mist away. “Now will you come and rest with me? Maybe I’ll let you feed me that bowl of fruit.”

“You’d let me do that?” he smiled a little.

“I would,” you smiled back, gasping when he lifted you off your feet and was once again careful not to do anything to your arm. “Show off,” you teased, hanging on with your good arm.

“Just a little,” he said. Picking you up was no sweat to a super soldier. “Thank you,” he added in a whisper. Taking care of you was going to comfort him as much as it comforted you.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered back.

You had a feeling that Bucky wouldn’t sleep well tonight. He’d be too busy watching over you and making sure you were okay. If he did sleep there was a chance he’d have nightmares over the gunshot or a past injury. But in the morning he’d feel better knowing that you were really home with him, that you were okay, and that he didn’t lose you.

And if he really wanted to coddle and dote on you a bit longer, you wouldn’t stop him.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[quintessenceofdust88]

Priorities

(okay, so remember this ficlet? I finished it 🤭 and it's basically 1800 words of Tommy being me and saying everything I wish I could say to Eddie Diaz about the way he treats his supposed best friend. But since I'm a relentless optimist, I gave Eddie a slight redemption at the end. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for how much love you gave the first part! I hope this part lives up to your expectations ♥)

Tommy is being weird with him.

Eddie's been back for about ten days when he finally gets an invitation to Tommy and Buck's house, that Buck moved to about a month before he arrived. And the invitation came from Buck himself, not from Tommy, so Eddie doesn't think he's being paranoid about the pilot treating him differently.

If Tommy is mad at him for some reason (though Eddie can't fathom why, they haven't even talked much since Eddie moved), it explains why the invitation took so long; frankly, part of Eddie was expecting to set foot in LA and have Buck all over him wanting to hang out, but not quite. Buck had barely shown up, mostly to say hi to Chris, and then Eddie hadn't seen much of him.

Eddie shows up anyway, casting his doubts aside, because he definitely missed hanging out with the two of them. If there's a downside to the months he passed in Texas is how lonely he was; he can't wait to be able to hang out with his friends whenever he wants again.

Chris opts out of joining him, also wanting to catch up with his LA friends, and Eddie doesn't mind. It's good that it'll be just the three of them.

At least it should be, but again, Tommy is being weird. Not to Buck, God no. With Buck he's all 'sweetheart' and kisses to the cheek and hand holding all the time. Eddie privately thinks that this is how they're behaving now, six months after their reconciliation, he's quite lucky to have been in Texas for the first few days after they got back together (he tries not to think what they could have gotten up to in his house while Buck lived there; ignorance is bliss or whatever).

But the point is: Tommy doesn't have any scrunchy smiles or 'how are you doing, man?' and talking about the latest NBA developments with Eddie. Instead he's giving him that trademark bitchy look, and barely answering when Eddie does talk to him.

Buck, bless him, doesn't seem to pick up on the tension. He seems ridiculously happy, all heart eyes at his boyfriend, and for the first time, Eddie feels like a third wheel between them, and that's what makes him decide enough is enough. 

When Buck leaves to check on their appetizers, he turns to Tommy, who's quite deliberatedly staring at the TV with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

"Tommy, man, have I done something to you?" He asks, and Tommy looks at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"To me? How could you? You haven't even talked to me one-on-one since Evan and I were broken up."

Eddie sighs; he should have seen that coming, though he never thought Tommy to be the needy kind. Maybe Buck was rubbing off on him. 

"Tommy, you know Buck's my best friend, I had to..."

"Oh, is he?!" Tommy says, his voice laced with faux-surprise and mockery, and Eddie recoils. "I would never guess based on the way you treat him"

Eddie stares at Tommy, completely stunned and, if he’s being honest, not just a little offended. He and Buck have been best friends for years; who does Tommy think he is to chime in, especially after he broke Buck’s heart the way he did months ago? 

“Tommy, what the hell are you talking about?” Eddie demands, trying to keep his voice low. “Buck is my best friend, everybody knows that.”

“You know what, Eddie? My bad, you are right.” Tommy says, but Eddie doesn’t feel relieved; he seems far from done. “Evan is your best friend; he supports your decisions, he’s always there for you, worrying about you and your kid, going above and beyond to make sure you’re okay.”

The words leaving Tommy’s mouth should have been positive, but for some reason, they’re bringing a deep blush to Eddie’s cheeks and a weird feeling to his stomach. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he’s feeling ashamed. 

“Okay, so what are you saying?” He asks, and Tommy stares at Eddie as if he’s being particularly stupid. 

“What I’m saying, Diaz, is that Evan is your best friend, but there’s no way you can claim to be his best friend. I’m not even sure you could claim to be his friend.”

“That’s not fair”, Eddie hisses in response, but that inconvenient blush is still stuck to his cheeks. 

“No, what’s not fair is making him keep your moving to Texas a secret, then treating him as expendable, then being mad when he finally snapped, and then just ‘forgiving’ him for something you should be apologizing for when he once more proved himself useful to you by taking your house”

Eddie stares at Tommy, mouth agape. That’s certainly not how he remembers things happening. 

“I… I was doing what was best for Chris. He… He didn’t have the right to make it about himself” Eddie says, but it now sounds weak even to his ears.

“Oh no, Eddie, as far as you’re concerned, Evan never has the right to make anything about himself. It’s all you, isn’t it? He babysits your son. You two talk about your plans, your feelings, your problems. Did you ever even have a conversation with him about our break-up? Did you even once ask him how he was handling it, if he was suffering?”

Eddie tries to remember those few weeks between their break-up and his moving, and he’s ashamed  when he realizes that he doesn’t remember asking Buck how he felt. All he remembers is the incessant baking.

“I…”

“Don’t bother”, Tommy says, raising a hand. “I know you didn’t. Because you, and everyone else, want Evan to always be happy and ready to help you with your problems. And when he dares to ask for help with his own things, of letting his insecurities be known, you accuse him of making everything about him. Of being exhausting.”

The word hits hard for Eddie, and he remembers a fight from so many years ago. He frowns, looking at Tommy, whose expression is harsh, his arms crossed, not a single line of the softness Eddie is used to from him. This is Tommy in protective mode, but Eddie had never expected it to be aimed at himself. It’s not fun, to say the least. 

“Did… Did he tell you about that?” He asks, and guilt is pooling up in his chest. 

“He wasn’t going to; I got it out of him when he asked me if I had left because he was exhausting,” Tommy says, and Eddie can see some of his guilt mirrored in Tommy’s eyes before he closes them and takes a deep sigh. “Look, I wasn’t perfect with him either, but you, Eddie? You were supposed to be his best friend”

“Tommy, I… I never realized…”

“No. And you never would, because he’s so used to this treatment that he’d never say anything. It’s the normal between the two of you. Except there’s nothing normal about it” Tommy laughs a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “God, Eddie, when he told me how he had ended up living at your place… The way he told it. Putting himself down, saying you were right on calling him out for ‘making everything about me, like I always do’. Like he had been a tantrum-throwing child, like you had been so good for forgiving him after he solved a problem of yours for the millionth time. You could barely say thank you. I asked, and he said you ‘shouldn’t have to thank him anyway, cause that’s what friends do’. That’s the man you like to call selfish.”

Eddie’s heart feels frozen in his chest. He wants to fight back, and wants to give Tommy examples of times he was there for Buck as well, but, to his immense despair, he’s coming up short. He’s about to mention putting Buck on his will, but he can see Tommy saying that was more for his benefit than Buck’s, and he’d be right. Eddie also thinks of telling him about how he handled Buck’s coming out, but… Is that something he should be that proud of? It was basic human decency, nothing else. 

When was the last time their friendship was about what Buck needed? Eddie can’t remember, if there ever was one in the first place. 

As guilt and shame take over him, he runs a hand through his face, and looks back at Tommy. In a way, he’s grateful; grateful that Buck found someone who’s that willing to defend him, but it makes Eddie feel awful that he’s the one who Buck needs to be defended from. And the worst part is that he knows, absolutely knows for a fact, that Buck hasn’t asked Tommy to say any of that. 

“I… I made him feel less than, didn’t I? When… When I left like that” He says, and Tommy nods, his expression finally softening a bit. 

“Look, he gets it. I get it. Chris is your priority. But Evan is mine, and him taking me back was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I’m sorry, Eddie, but I won’t let him be treated like that anymore. Not by you, not by anyone. He deserves better.”

Eddie finds himself nodding numbly. Tommy is right; Buck deserves better. From the 118, from his parents, but from him. Eddie has to step up. 

“He does. I… I’m sorry” He says pathetically, and Tommy only shrugs. 

“Don’t tell that to me, tell it to him. But let me tell you that it won’t make much of a difference. He doesn’t think you have anything to be sorry for.” Tommy says, and the worst part is that Eddie knows it’s true, which makes him feel even guiltier. “So instead of being sorry, do better”

He doesn’t have much time to mull on Tommy’s words before Buck is back, announcing the nachos are finally ready and that he had to re-do the guacamole three times before it was perfect.

And as he drops the bowls on the coffee center table, then gives Tommy a quick peck, Eddie looks at them. The way Tommy instantly smiled when Buck entered the room, as if the tension is out of him now that he told Eddie what was on his mind; the way he wraps his arm around Buck’s waist and Buck leans against his shoulder. The way he intently listens to Buck explaining what exactly went wrong with the first two guacamole batches, the way he praises Buck for finally getting it right. 

Eddie sighs and does his best to join their conversation as if nothing has happened. Watching the two of them, the way Buck smiles so easily, his eyes never leaving Tommy, and how content his best friend looks, how sure of himself, Eddie realizes that yes, he has to do better by Buck, because they’ve been friends for years and he hasn’t been very good at it. But one thing he knows for sure: Buck is not alone. 

He is finally someone’s priority. 

Ppl who were interested/asked to be tagged: @azaharinflames @laundryandtaxesworld @agentpeggycartering @unhingedangstaddict @iredastead @exhaustedpirate @dum-amo-vivo9 @neverstopschanging @walkedthroughfires @aar-journey @justahumblecabbagemerchant @styxhuntress @sgprfan

[liminalmemories21]

911 - post ep 8x17 ficlet

(caveat that this is mostly based on vibes and episode clips)

He's not sure why he's here.  Except that he doesn't want to go home.  Tells himself it's because he wants to be alone, except if that was true he wouldn't be sitting in his jeep outside of Tommy's house.  He'd have gone .... almost literally anywhere else.  Tells himself it's because his house is too crowded with Eddie and Chris and Pepa.  That's closer to being true.  Except it's not Chris or Pepa he's trying to avoid.  Pushes it away.  He can't deal with it now.

He's not sure why he's here.  Outside of Tommy's house.  A place he's been, but not often enough to feel comfortable there.  Maybe that should have been a clue.  That Tommy only ever wanted to see him on Buck's turf, never wanted to invite him in.  Never wanted to let Buck poke through his bookshelves, and see what's lurking at the back of his fridge, how messy his hall closet is.  Which isn't fair, he'd never asked.  Had been happy to just float, take everything one day at a time until he decided to skip about a thousand steps and torpedo the best relationship he's ever had.

He's not sure why he's here, except at the funeral -- at Bobby's funeral -- Tommy had come up to him, made an aborted move like he was going to cup Buck's elbow, hold him steady, and he'd said, "If there's ever anything you need."  Half smile.  "Well, maybe not a helicopter, I don't think they'll let me steal one a third time."

So he's here.  Because he doesn't know where else to go.  Doesn't want to intrude on anyone else's grief -- doesn't want to be a bother -- doesn't want to make it all about him.  But Tommy had asked.

And he's officially been sitting here too long.  One of Tommy's neighbors is going to call the police about the suspicious man casing the neighborhood.  Hand on the key, about to the turn the ignition, maybe go back to Bobby's church.  Maybe just go to a cafe for a while.  Or the beach.  He used to like the beach.  He should go to a club.  That's the best place to not be alone for a night.  Except the being alone the next morning is always so much worse.

Jumps out of his skin when there's a tap on the window.

Reluctantly rolls down the window.  Has to swallow to get out, "Hey."

"Hey," Tommy says.

He should have brought something with him.  A loaf of banana bread or something.  Tommy lost someone too.

Forces himself to come up with a reason why he's here that isn't pathetic.  "I just, umm, wanted to check on you.  Make sure you're doing okay.  I know Bobby meant a lot to you too."

Tommy tilts his head, studying Buck, and it's uncomfortable and he shifts uneasily in his seat.  "I'm doing okay," Tommy finally says.  "Not great, but you know."  Shrugs.

"Yeah," he agrees.

Tommy doesn't step away, just keeps studying him with that same evaluating look.  "How are you doing?"

"Oh, you know, busy," he says.  "Trying to make sure everyone has what they need."

"Hmm," Tommy says.  "Do you want to come in?"

He does.  Desperately.  Says, "No.  I should go, Eddie and Chris and Pepa are all at my house.  Or, Eddie's house?  I guess.  I'm not exactly sure right now.  Lines are kind of blurred since they're all staying.  You know."

"Or you could come in and I could make you tea, since you came all the way out here."

Tommy's house is not that far out, but he's getting out of the jeep and following Tommy up the walk before he really thinks too hard about it.  Comes to a stop in Tommy's kitchen, fidgeting, thinking of the two loaves of tea bread in his freezer.  He really should have brought Tommy something. 

"Do you like banana bread?" he blurts out.

Tommy's hands don't even pause in making tea.  "It's okay.  I prefer lemon poppy seed.  Why?"

Lemon poppy seed.  He can do that.  Anstell on B shift likes it too, so he'd gone through seven recipes trying to make a perfect loaf during his baking binge.

"Tea," he says, like an explanation.

"Evan," Tommy says softly, and it almost makes him break.  Nobody says his name like that.  Takes the tea Tommy offers him.  Tommy sits opposite him.  "Is Eddie staying long?"

He shrugs.  Has no idea.  "He kind of makes his own hours in El Paso."  Chris will need to go back to school though.  Eddie will take him back to Texas - home to Texas.  He tries not to feel relieved at the thought.  It's just because there are so many people in his house, and he's not used to it.

"I'm glad he made it up for the funeral," Tommy says.  And oh, this is Tommy making small talk.  Looking at Buck like he's a puzzle he's trying to solve, or a bomb he's trying to defuse.  He doesn't think he's that complicated.  He might be primed to explode though.  Mostly he just wants to sleep.  Or stop moving.  Or fold into himself and cry.  Except that everything will still be the same in the morning, so what's the point.

Realizes Tommy's waiting for an answer.  "Yeah," he says.  And he had been glad.  Would have felt unbalanced if Eddie hadn't been there.

He kind of wants Eddie to leave again.  Go back to his life.  Leave him to start to pick up the pieces of what's left of his.

He's not holding up his end of the conversation.  Tries harder.  "How have you been?"

Tommy shrugs.  "Trying to keep busy."  And then, "You asked me that already."

He closes his eyes.  "Sorry.  I'm kind of all over the place right now."

"When was the last time you slept?"

He has to think about that.  He'd had a shift.  Before that?  He hadn't slept well last night.  Hasn't slept well since -- shies away from saying it.  Thinking it.

Faint amused huff.  "If you have to think that hard, it's been too long."

He blinks.  Right.  He should leave.  Tries to make himself get up.  "I'll get out of your hair."

Tommy looks at him.  "Or you could take a nap here."

Tommy's house that smells like him.  Where he can be surrounded by the comfort of Tommy.  "Nap with me?" he asks without thinking.  And wants to die.  "Shit, sorry.  I'm tired.  I should go."

"I can do that," Tommy says.

"Why are you being nice to me?" he asks.  Sees Tommy recoil a little.  "I said terrible things to you  and then I called you up to come rescue me, and you did it without even asking any questions, and I realize I never apologized.  And now I just showed up again, making myself your problem.  And I'm sorry.  I wasn't trying to hurt you, but I know I did, and just because I didn't mean to doesn't make it better.  And why are you being nice to me?"

Tommy looks at him for a long moment, long enough that Buck doesn't think he's going to answer. and then he traces a thumb down Buck's cheek and he wants to lean into it.  "Because I'm in love with you.  And you're hurting.  And this is something I can do."

And, oh.  He tries to remember if anyone's ever said anything like that to him before.

"Me too," he says, just before Tommy's face starts to shutter, and watches disbelief and hope and wariness chase each other across his face.  Reaches for Tommy's hand.  "I'm in love with you too."  Yawns obnoxiously wide, no hiding it.

"Okay, I definitely think we should talk about that more, but maybe after that nap."

He wants so badly.  "You'll stay?"

Tommy's eyes close for a beat, and then reopen, looking at him.  "I'll stay. I promise."

[livelaughlou]

Post 8x17: Until Next Time

I could not resist when we saw the 217 was at the emergency, so here's a little ficlet. Hope you guys like it.

spoilers for 8x17: Don't Drink the Water

bucktommy - words: 800 ish - rating: gen - complete

Everything is all said and done, the fire is out, and they can breathe again when he remembers what Pepa said about things changing, about accepting it, and going after what he wants could be just what he needs right now. When he’d heard the 217 was coming, when he’d heard Tommy’s voice over the radio, he’d felt like his heart was in his throat the entire time, knowing he was out there, knowing that all he’d have to do is open his mouth and he could get what he wants.

What he’s wanted for months.

He finds him rolling up the hose at the 217 engine, turnouts undone, hair sweaty from the helmet and sticking to his head.

“Um,” he says, then clears his throat, dry from both the emergency they just thwarted and from nerves. “Uh, ground crew, huh?”

Tommy turns and Buck sees the soot on his face and thinks about how much he wants to wipe it off, take care of Tommy again, like he used to after long shifts when Tommy had wanted to get to him so badly, he'd only take the most cursory shower at the station to get the worst of the grime off. Buck feels a pang in his chest at the memory. He wants that back so much.

There’s something else behind the soot, though, and Buck doesn’t miss it, because Tommy doesn’t hide it. His face lights up when he sees Buck.

“Evan,” he says, sounding happy and Buck feels just a little lighter. Tommy motions to the truck behind him. “Um, yeah. They called for all hands and I heard the 118 was here so…”

Buck lets out a slow breath. “You came.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says softly. “I came. I wasn’t sure if I should come talk to you though, so I’m glad you came over. How...how are you? We haven’t talked since you asked me to be a pallbearer.”

“I know,” Buck says. “Thank you, again, for doing that. I just...I’m...I’m not really okay. With Bobby being gone.”

“I know you aren’t,” Tommy answers and he sounds so damn tender. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I just haven’t been able to keep up with...well, anything really,” Buck continues. “But I just know you’re here and…”

“...have dinner with me,” Tommy blurts out then he looks sheepish like he hadn’t meant that to come out. “I...sorry. I just I miss y-”

“Yes,” Buck interrupts, before he can stop himself. He’s never seen Tommy like this before, a sort of nervousness that Tommy never let him see and he wants to hug him about it, reassure Tommy that, yes, of course he’s wanted. “Yes. Please. I would really like that.”

Tommy smiles, clearly relieved. “Yeah? I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Buck says. He turns and looks around, knows he has to get back help with the clean up, but he can’t resist. “Can, um, can I have a kiss? I could really use one from you right now.”

Tommy laughs a little, but it doesn’t make Buck feel like he’s being laughed at, it never does. No, it’s sweet and fond, like Buck’s beat him to the question. He doesn’t answer with words, instead he takes two steps forward and wraps his arms around Buck’s waist, pulling him in. Buck doesn’t hesitate, wraps his arms around Tommy’s neck, holding him tightly as Tommy presses his lips to Buck’s. The kiss is smokey and a little bitter but he’s the best thing Buck’s tasted in months.

They don’t let it go too long, they’ve been standing for longer than they should have already. If Gerrard sees them, there will be hell to pay, but Tommy leans his forehead against Buck’s, breathes slowly and deeply, eyes closed like he’s still savoring the contact. And maybe he is. Buck knows he’ll be savoring this for the rest of the night, long after they’re gone.

“I’ll text you,” Tommy says softly.

“Buckley! Where are you!” Gerrard’s voice rings out.

“Damn,” Buck breathes. He presses one last kiss to Tommy’s mouth before letting him go. “I gotta get back. But yes, please. If you don’t, I will.”

There’s that soft smile curling up the corners of Tommy’s mouth again. “I promise. Go.”

Buck nods and gets back to work, but he was right he does savor it.

When they’re on the way back to the station, Buck’s still thinking about it and there’s a measure of peace he’s reached that he hasn’t felt in a while. He listens placidly as Hen and Chim chat about Jee’s views on her new brother, but startles a little when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

He pulls it out and bites his lip to hold back the grin when he sees the text from Tommy.

Tommy: Hi, Evan. What are you doing Saturday?

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

the tension between you and miguel rises to an all-time high —a ficlet featuring a grumpy miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. fem!reader, 1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel has asked you multiple times to leave him alone while he's working. The strike force can't run itself (or so he claims —Margo and Lyla seem plenty capable, in your eyes) and he needs time and solitude to organise the protection of canon events, and—

"Blah, blah, blah," you say, dropping your voice to a soft, teasing melody as you skirt around his frankly audaciously jacked chest. 

"Don't blah, blah, blah me," Miguel says. You'd be intimidated if you weren't so happy to mess with him. "I'm not kidding around." 

Okay, maybe you are intimidated. That just makes messing with him more fun. 

The room he operates from, as you've so fondly monikered The Office, is in organised chaos, and much too dark. You drag a lone chair toward his control panel and set yourself down in front of all his screens and computers. 

"Ooh," you hum, reaching for an unlabelled switch with a purposeful slowness. 

Predictably, Miguel slams his hand over yours, yanking your chair back with an annoyed, "No." 

"Come on, Miguel. What harm could I possibly do?"

"You could–" 

"Topple the multiverse?" you suggest. "I've heard." 

"You could turn off every member of the Society's DMW. That's what that does. Potentially endangering each of their lives by stranding them in unfamiliar dimensions, and preventing them from correcting canon events." 

You feel bad for teasing him when you see the look on his face, anger and exhaustion and the slimmest allowance of defeat. It must be tough to lead the Spider-Society. Tougher to micromanage more than half of its members. 

Pulling your hand from under his, you cross your arms over your stomach and give him an apologetic frown. "Sorry, Miguel."

Evidence of his sweet spot for you lines his expression, softening his sharp jaw and the stoic set of his brow. It's gone as quick as it came, and his mask falls back into place. He turns away from you as though pretending you aren't there and scans one of his holographic screens, his face glowing with a yellow-orange haze. 

Miguel has to tolerate you, because you're a Spider-Girl. Though you've never called yourself that aloud, and you're not sure anyone else has, either, it's an undeniable truth. You were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you super mutant abilities, though yours aren't as potent as others. You're not especially strong, you probably couldn't stop a bus with your bare hands, but you're smart. You haven't saved the world or anything, but you lost your Uncle Ben. You paid the toll. 

Every spider person has lost someone. Miguel seems to have lost more than that. 

"You know," you mumble, kicking the ground lightly to make your chair spin on its axle, "I've been thinking…" 

"That's never good." 

"Why do we wear our suits here?" you ask, spinning for a second time, the room moving past your eyes in flashes. "It seems performative." 

"Ah, I can answer that. Some of us work when we're here." 

You wrinkle your nose at his deadpan and kick the floor again, spinning so fast it makes you laugh. "What did you say? I can't hear you from your high horse– woah!" 

Miguel grabs the back of your chair, bringing you to a sudden and firm stop. You blink hoping it'll assuage the dizziness between your eyes, and when it doesn't work you keel forward, muttering, "Woah, I'm gonna die." 

"You won't die." 

"How do you know?" you ask. 

"You're under my watch, aren't you?" 

"I knew you liked me," you say. "Oh, I don't feel well." 

"You brought it on yourself." 

You catch your breath. When you feel okay enough to stand you almost trip, and Miguel doesn't bother pretending that he had any intention of stopping you from landing flat on your face. The you before the spider bite would've wiped out. This you giggles and holds Miguel's elbow for a second while you plant your feet. 

"Okay, boss-man," you ask, looking up at the unnaturally high screen he's investigating. "What are we doing today?" 

"I'm supervising a task force operation on Earth-31913. You're going home." 

"Miguel," you say, not sure if you want to flirt with him or piss him off. He looks incredibly pissed off already, so you choose flirtation. "Have I told you how handsome you look this evening?" 

He doesn't react. His hands don't so much as shift where they're akimbo on his hips. 

"You really have the most handsome eyes," you continue, weaving around his arm to stand in front of him. You have to crane your neck to see them. "Sulky. Do I really have to go home? I'd rather stay here with you." 

He looks down his nose at you. "Yeah?" he asks quietly, his voice rough as hewn stone.

"Yeah," you say, taking a small step back. 

"And do what?" 

You mirror his stance, hands on your hips. Your suit isn't form fitting like his, doesn't showcase nearly so much lean muscle, but you like it. You'd chosen a simple black ensemble to match the spider who bit you with a pinky purple heart over your stomach. Miguel had asked about it once, just once, when you'd first met and he had no idea how much of a problem for him you were going to become. 

Why there? 

Why do you think? you'd asked, giving him a sticky-sweet smile. 

Forget I asked. 

He lifts a hand to your chin, pinching it between two deft fingers. You're lucky he isn't wearing his gloves; his claws would pierce your jaw. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks, again so quietly. "If you stay?" 

"I could help with the task force." 

"That's what you want to do?" 

You flush with heat but refuse to let him know how you're feeling. Your heart bumps against your ribs, breath caught in your throat as he tilts your head up, as he leans down. 

"No," he says near your lips, "that's not it." 

"I could help you?" you offer. 

Something flashes in his eyes. You hesitate to call it lust. It reminds you of a cat with a mouse in it’s clutches, only his pupils are blown, black and inky and wide as dimes. 

"You want to help me?" he asks, his lips an inch, half of that from yours. 

You nod minutely. "Yes," you say under your breath. 

His hand moves to your cheek. He leans in closer and closer, until there's a hair's width of air between his mouth and yours, the tips of your noses bent together. His breath fans over your bottom lip and it's hot. You swear you can feel his heart as his chest presses to yours. He lingers there for an endless handful of seconds, silently egging you on.

You call his bluff and refuse to close the distance. 

Miguel pushes you away from him, far from cruel but certainly not sweet. "I have a tower of paperwork you can file," he says. 

"Here I thought you were finally going to bite my head off," you hum. "You're a sore loser, Miguel." 

"And you're my pest," he says, holding your gaze for a half-second too long. He turns away. "Lyla? Arrange the recounts from the last canon event for Spider-Girl's perusal, please." 

"So you've remembered I'm here?" Lyla asks wryly.

You don't mind the paperwork. You sign each one with a winky face and a pink gel pen heart, knowing Miguel will go over them all again, and knowing he'll grow angrier and angrier with each heart.

He'll kiss you and mean it one day. You just have to play the waiting game.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[florencebirdsong]

Hi! May I request Agatha Harkness x fem! Reader where Agatha and the rest of the coven (including Reader) stay up late talking and while drunk, Agatha is questioned about what kind of person she likes and Agatha darts describing her dream person (from appearance, personality to likes and dislikes to hobbies). Whether Agatha is aware of it or not, Agatha describes Reader

Hi! Thank you so much for the request. Because I try to describe reader as little as possible so everyone can enjoy I’ve skipped slightly ahead. I hope that’s okay and you still enjoy it!

Also this was supposed to be smutty and instead turned soft 🧍‍♀️

Valentine's Day Event

Tags: drunk Agatha, softness, ficlet

One coven meeting and night of drinking later, you end up alone in the living room with Agatha. She’d long claimed the couch, not afraid to use her feet to do so, and you were spread out on the floor. The others had conveniently vacated the room not long after the ‘confession’ portion of the night. Apparently, it’s good for morale or building relationships or something. You’re pretty sure the coven as a whole is just nosey. Either way, you don’t mind so much after listening to Agatha describe you bit by bit when coaxed into describing the kind of person she likes. You had gladly stayed out of the others way as they fought over who gets the beds in the house once it was clear Agatha wasn’t leaving her spot on the couch.

She’s laying down, one arm covering her eyes and the other hanging off of the couch. It takes you a long while to gather the courage to speak up. Long enough there’s a chance she’s already fallen asleep.

“So, you finally spilled on what your kind of person catches your interest.”

“Mhmm,” Agatha says, arm covering her face.

“Did it sound like anyone we know?” you ask.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” she repeats.

“That’s not what everyone else said.”

“So? They’re a bunch of gossiping harpies,” she mutters. 

You snort. She’s not exactly wrong.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this drunk before,” you say, trying not to sound too amused. 

“Honey, I’m just getting started.” She doesn’t so much as lift her arm.

“On water maybe,” you snort.

She waves you off. Your eyes drop to her hand hanging off of the couch. If you reached out you’d be able to touch it.

“Agatha?” you ask quietly. She responds with another hum. “Did you mean what you said?”

She takes a while to respond and you try to accept the hope within you being squashed. 

“I did.”

You head shoots up but she still hasn’t moved. You slowly reach out and brush your fingers against her hand. Her wrist turns towards you and her fingers uncurl. You take the invitation and wriggle closer to be able to gently take hold of her hand. Her fingers thread through yours and you can’t help your smile.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning when I’m more sober.”

“Okay,” you murmur, your smile clear in your voice.

[steddiealltheway]

(Happy happy birthday Noelle (@frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe) thank you for all your amazing fun facts which are the source for this little ficlet. I hope you enjoy <3)

For some reason, The Party had decided to rent Friday the 13th for their upcoming movie night at Steve's house. With all the shit they've been through, Steve thinks that maybe it's a strange choice, but he knows better than to question the kids.

"What a nice choice," Robin says sarcastically as she looks over Steve's shoulder at the tape. She hasn't quite grasped how defensive the teens can get, but they seem to respect her more than they respect Steve. Figures.

"Isn't it?" Dustin snarks back as he grabs the tape from the counter.

Max rolls her eyes and adds, "I said the same thing."

"Yeah, because you want to watch some shit like Cinderella," Mike whines.

"Does it ever hurt your tiny, sexist brain to think of those weak insults?" Max asks with her eyebrows raised.

Lucas tries to hide a laugh as Mike glares at him.

"Alright, alright, this is the Family Video. Take it outside if you guys are going to bicker," Steve says with a sigh as he moves to restack some tapes Dustin had nudged just to be annoying.

"You and Robin bicker all the time," Dustin says defensively.

Steve gives him a look. "Do you want to lose Harrington house privileges?"

Dustin sighs, looking like he really wants to argue before he turns around to the group and announces defeatedly, "Alright, let's get snacks before tonight."

As they're filing out the door, Dustin runs back to the counter and adds, "I almost forgot. Is it fine if Eddie comes?"

Steve shrugs, trying to look unphased by the question. "Sure," he says, voice cracking a bit.

Dustin instantly lights up. "Great! I already invited him, so that would've been awkward. See you later!"

Robin comes up to him and lightly shoves his shoulder. "Sure," she mocks him. "You're so smooth."

"Shut up," Steve says with a sigh. God, Robin will never let him live down what he thought to be his deathbed confession of his crush on Eddie. In reality, he was just put on so many painkillers in the hospital that he had gotten confused when he woke up in a hospital room.

And yeah, maybe the crush still hasn't gone away and Robin definitely knows, but he refuses to acknowledge it.

"You're going to be at the movie night, right?" Steve asks.

Robin groans. "I've already told you, I have my parent's anniversary dinner tonight."

"So, you'll be at my house tonight," Steve jokes.

"I wish."

Steve nudges her shoulder. He's already seen the obnoxious pictures of Robin and her parents from every year of their wedding anniversaries lining the walls of one particular hallway. It's endearing really, but Robin hates it.

"You better call me later if anything new develops between you and Eddie," Robin whispers although there's no one in the room.

Steve just nods, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks as he still refuses to verbally acknowledge the ridiculous crush that maybe fills his stomach with butterflies and all those obnoxious things.

He sighs and turns to Robin. "How am I going to survive tonight without you?"

"The world may never know," she says dramatically.

And really, the world may never know. At least, that's how Steve feels.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Okay, maybe Steve is a little bit of a mess.

Sure, Eddie has shown up, and Steve has been playing it cool, but it's like he can't take his eyes off him. He's made so much eye contact, he's sure that he's creeping Eddie out a bit or giving away his huge crush.

But he’s Steve Harrington. Like Steve “The Hair” Harrington. Inventor of the Harrington charm. All that stuff. And… Eddie has absolutely melted him into a puddle of goo. Christ.

By the time the movie starts, Steve’s head is practically buzzing with all his thoughts of Eddie is sitting next to me. What do I do? The kids are here, so I can’t make a move. But I don’t even know if he likes me.

Then, Max’s question breaks through the thoughts as she asks, “When is the next Friday the 13th this year?”

“Well, fun fact, any month that starts on a Sunday will have a Friday the 13th,” Eddie says with a proud grin.

Steve ignores the kids’ responses asking when that month is and the subsequent response from Eddie saying he doesn’t know, but he just knows the fact.

But for some reason, the fact is absolutely blowing Steve’s mind.

And yes, maybe it’s because it came from Eddie, but truly, when Steve associates fact with something, it is never fun. But this truly is a… fun fact.

He must have a look on his face because Eddie eyes him and asks, “What?”

Steve just shrugs and says, “I just… really thought the fact was… fun.” Jesus, did his Harrington charm just evaporate or something?

But he thinks the honesty of it works for Eddie who smiles softly at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, how did you know that?”

Eddie swings an arm casually over the back of the couch and leans in. “I’m full of fun facts, Harrington.” He gives him a winks before leaning back.

Steve leans into his space, trying to close some of the distance between them. “Tell me another one.”

Eddie laughs, “I’m going to max out my fun fact limit to one a day.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

Eddie tilts his head toward him. “It’s fair if it gives me an excuse to talk to you every day.”

Okay, yeah. That was blatant flirting. Which Steve is about to match, until the kids decide now is the best time to interrupt and yell at them to be quiet as the movie starts.

As the movie goes on, Eddie and Steve drift closer together while trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible in front of the kids. They haven’t talked about it, of course, but Steve’s pretty sure neither of them want to scar the kids. Or maybe, Steve just doesn’t want the kids to very accurately point out his feelings for Eddie and force him to deal with them.

Unfortunately, this also means that Steve doesn’t get a moment alone with Eddie to further flirt with him or try to push him for another fact. But maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Especially since Eddie gave him an excuse to talk to him tomorrow.

-:-:-:-:-:-

“What’s another fun fact?” Steve asks as soon as he hears Eddie on the other line.

“Christ, I just woke up. Give my brain a few seconds,” Eddie groans into the phone, voice rough with sleep.

Steve smiles. “Good morning by the way,” he says sweetly.

“Good morning,” Eddie replies back, sounding a bit less grumpy. There’s a bit of shuffling on his side of the phone before he says, “It’s illegal to feed pigeons on the streets of San Francisco.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “There’s no way!”

“Go ahead and feed a pigeon there then,” Eddie says with a laugh.

“Maybe I will. If you come with me and promise to bail me out.”

Eddie hums on the other line. “I don’t know. I think it would be fun to spend a night in a jail cell with you. Maybe I’ll join you in your crime.”

“Scratch that, I’m bailing you out.”

“That’s sounds about right, Bonnie.”

“Bonnie?” Steve questions, feeling like he’s missed something.

Eddie gasps on the other line. “Like Bonnie and Clyde!”

Steve doesn’t respond, waiting for Eddie to fill him in.

“Okay, this doesn’t count as a fun fact because this is just a story of one of the greatest crime couples to ever exist,” Eddie says excitedly, rambling on about the two.

Steve sits back, cheeks hurting from smiling a little too hard as he listens to Eddie and tries not to linger too much on the fact he compared the two of them to a real life couple.

-:-:-:-:-:-

The phone calls continue every day, but the fun facts really are just a starting point to a long drawn out conversation about whatever’s on their mind.

Robin has pretended to get tired whenever Steve calls her right after Eddie has to hang up or spends hours talking about Eddie during their shift at the Family Video. But he knows she’s secretly just as enthralled about the fun facts as he is.

“Did you know that the Statue of Liberty wears a size eight hundred seventy nine shoe?” Steve asks Robin, still in disbelief over the fact.

“Sounds like you’re talking about me,” Eddie says, somehow coming into the store without Steve noticing.

Steve’s heart beats a little harder as he turns to him. “All good things of course,” Steve says with a wink.

“I was scared you were passing off my facts to Buckley as if they were your own for a second there,” Eddie says, leaning across the the counter.

“And what if I was?” Steve challenges, leaning on the counter.

“Then, I would have to revoke my daily fun fact.”

Steve’s jaw drops. “You’d never.”

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe you’ll just have to see.”

Steve just laughs and shoves his shoulder lightly. “What are you doing here though? Coming to deliver my fun fact in person?”

Eddie blushes and looks down. “No, I was actually just… wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight.”

“Sounds good,” Steve says automatically, not even stopping to think if he has any other plans.

“I’ll see you after your shift then?” Eddie asks, tilting his head a bit.

“I’ll see you then,” Steve confirms with a smile.

Eddie nods and turns to leave.

“Oh, wait!” Steve calls out.

Eddie turns around.

“You haven’t told me your fun fact for today.”

Eddie smiles. “You’ll just have to wait until tonight. After all, it’s a pretty good excuse to make sure you come over.”

Steve scoffs, “As if that’s the only reason.”

Eddie just pulls his hair in front of his face as his smile gets a little wider. “See you soon.”

“Bye,” Steve says, waggling his fingers at him.

“Holy shit,” Robin says, startling Steve. “I thought you said your crush was hopeless.”

Steve just shrugs. “It’s Eddie, he flirts with everyone.”

“Not like that.”

Steve pauses and thinks back on their conversation and all the flirtatious banter leading up to this moment. Maybe she’s right, but also he remembers… “Did you know that bubble wrap was invented by accident?”

Robin runs a hand over her face and says, “You two are going to be the death of me, I can already tell.”

Steve just smiles and thinks maybe they will be.

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few hours later, he shows up at Eddie’s, trying not to overthink things too much.

They were just hanging out. Just… two people… hanging out… alone… who flirt all the time…. And one definitely has a major crush on the other.

Eddie opens the door to the trailer immediately after Steve knocks only a single time. “I heard your car pull up,” he explains as soon as the door is open.

“Been lingering at the door for long?” Steve teases.

“Hours,” Eddie replies dramatically. But there’s a hint of nervous energy that Steve can’t help but pick up on. “Come on in.”

Steve steps inside and is hit with the smell of spaghetti and breadsticks. “Did you make dinner?”

“Nah, I picked it up from Enzo’s,” Eddie says with a smile before closing the door behind him and gesturing to the couch where two plates are laid out. “I thought we could… watch a movie while we ate or… something.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Steve replies with a smile, noticing the way his response relieves some of the nervous energy that is consuming Eddie.

“Perfect, right this way madam,” he jokes as he leads Steve to the couch with his hand resting on the dip of his lower back.

Steve sits down and can’t help but ask, “So, what fun fact did you make me wait for?”

Eddie freezes and curses, “Shit, you were supposed to ask that after all of this.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Why?” He asks nervously.

Eddie fidgets with his rings and mumbles, “Okay, you can do it.” Then, he turns back to Steve and says, “Fun fact… I’ve been dying to ask you out for a while now, and… I was hoping that this could be a date? And further fun fact, I will absolutely shut up forever if I read things wrong, and I’m so sorry if I did. Oh shit. Did I? Because really, I thought-”

“Eddie,” Steve interrupts him quickly, placing a hand over his. “I think it’s finally time that I share a fun fact with you.”

Eddie nods, eyes wide and scared.

“Fun fact,” Steve says and takes a deep breath, “I’m really upset that you beat me to asking you out because I’m a damn chicken. And fun fact, I’ve liked you since I saw you interacting with Dustin for the first time. And you can confirm the fact with Robin who I told while I thought I was on my deathbed.”

Eddie’s expression slowly morphs from fear to relief to happiness. “And that’s really all a fact?”

“Yes. Fun ones I hope.”

“Very very fun,” Eddie says with a laugh. He worries his bottom lip before saying, “Fun fact, I really want to kiss you.”

“Fun fact,” Steve echoes cheesily. “I would love to kiss you.”

And he does exactly that.

(Later on, Steve calls Robin from Eddie’s house and yells, “Fun fact, I just kissed Eddie!” Into the phone so loudly that Robin complains that his “fun fact” is giving her ear damage. But she also lets him know that she’s happy for him, as long as he doesn’t keeps phrasing everything as a fun fact.

Only, Steve can’t help it, when everything involving Eddie becomes the best facts he knows.)

[loulou-land]

Don’t Leave Me (I’m Staying)

This was meant to be a tiny lil ficlet based on a prompt line (that I didn’t even end up using in the actual fic) and then it turned into this…a drunk bucktommy fix-it of sorts lol. Anyways, hope y’all enjoy it! Ps. Tommy is hard on himself in this one and blames himself entirely for the break up, that in no way represents my opinions on the matter. It’s just how it turned out in this fic 😋

bucktommy | wc: 2,711 | post break up, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort |

Read here or on ao3

The call came in a little past midnight. Tommy had gone to bed early—after the usual romantic comedies failed to hold his attention and only made him feel more miserable. He’d hoped for a rare, dreamless sleep. But instead he found himself trapped in one of his recurring nightmares��memories of leaving the loft, ruining the best thing that had ever happened to him—when the sharp ring of his phone jolted him awake, his heart pounding before his brain caught up.

Squinting at the screen, his breath hitched.

E. Buckley

He almost dropped his phone in his haste, thumb fumbling to answer the call before it stopped ringing.

“B—Buck?” he stammered. “Are you okay?”

There was a pause, and then a voice that was definitely not Evan’s, heavy with irritation and booze, spoke.

“Hey, this Tommy?”

Tommy frowned, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, that’s me. Where’s Evan? Is he okay?” His mind raced, already conjuring a million scenarios, none of them good.

“Define ‘okay’,” the guy snorted. Tommy’s stomach dropped before he focused on the rest of the words. “Your boy’s shit-faced. Keeps crying and saying your name. Maybe come get him so the rest of us can drink in peace?” the man slurred.

Tommy’s heart lurched at the thought of Evan crying. He forced out a tight thanks to the drunk man, getting the name of the bar while he yanked on his jeans and boots. Thirty-five minutes later, he was parked in front of a dingy-looking dive lit by flickering neon signs and plastered with shady looking posters promising “quality alcohol.”

For a moment, he debated calling someone else—Eddie, or maybe even Sergeant Grant—but then wondered why Evan would come to an out of the way dive like this, alone. Steeling himself, Tommy decided to go in, keeping 9-1-1 dialed on his phone, just in case.

It didn’t take long to find him. Evan was sprawled over the bar top, head buried in his folded arms, his curls sticking out every which way. Tommy’s heart raced at the sight of him, as well as feeling an overwhelming sense of relief at once again being in the same room as Evan.

Tommy made his way through the bar, clocking in all the exits and keeping an eye on the other patrons, bracing himself for any trouble.

“Hey, Ev—Buck,” he hastily corrected himself, as he came up beside him. “Let’s get you home.”

Bleary baby blue eyes lifted, unfocused but just as bright as always. A lopsided grin spread across Evan’s face.

“Tommy” he slurred, his voice full of unguarded wonder. “My Tommy.”

Tommy’s chest tightened painfully at Evan’s words. He knew he’d be Evan’s until the day he died—leaving that night hadn't changed that, had only made it worse. It had made him realize that Evan was it for him. But it also confirmed what he’d always feared: Evan deserved more than a broken man like him. Still, hearing Evan call him his, ignited a flicker of hope he couldn’t afford to acknowledge. Not right now.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he whispered. “You okay, Buck?”

“Nooo,” Evan protested, shaking his head so vehemently he almost tumbled off the stool, if not for Tommy catching him and keeping a steady hand on him.

“Not Buck,” Evan mumbled, burping mid-sentence. “Not to you. Ev…Evan,” he said, poking Tommy in the chest and trying to glare at him—a glare somewhat softened by the way he kept squinting and hiccuping.

Tommy exhaled a shaky laugh, a pang of something tender and broken twisting deep in his chest. Even like this, Tommy couldn't help but be absolutely endeared by the other man.

“Alright, Evan. Let’s get you out of here.”

“I don’t want to go home, it’s empty a…and—lonely” Evan replied quietly, eyes shifting away as he made himself smaller.

“Hey, no…it’s okay.” Tommy’s heart cracked, guilt taking hold of him. “I’ll take you to Eddie’s—”

“Ha!” Evan cuts in, chuckling bitterly. “No, that’s empty too.”

“What do you mean?” Tommy frowned, feeling a sense of foreboding creep up on him.

“He’s in Texas, looking at houses,” Evan paused, exhaling deeply. “He’s leaving…everyone leaves me. Why—” He trailed off, slumping as though the weight of everything was suddenly falling over him.

Tommy went rigid, the raw vulnerability in Evan’s voice cutting through him like a blade. Tommy thought he had braced himself for whatever tonight would bring but he hadn’t prepared for this—seeing the possible aftermath of his absence carved into the man he loved.

“Okay,” Tommy said, his resolve crumbling. His next words came out hesitantly, almost afraid…of what, he didn’t know. Rejection or the thought of what would come after—inevitably breaking his own heart again. “I’ll take you to my house.”

He knew it was selfish, he didn't have a right to this anymore, no right to be the one Evan leaned on. But he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to take care of Evan, just for tonight, even if saying goodbye in the morning might destroy him.

“With you?” Evan asked, his voice trembling with disbelief as he looked up at him.

Tommy’s stomach dropped. “Yeah, sweet…heart,” his voice catching on the endearment that slipped out. “With me. I want to make sure you're okay. Is that alright? I can call Bobby or Hen if you’d rather—”

“No!” Evan yelled, eyes wide and glassy. “Take me with you, please?”

“Shh,’’ Tommy soothed, gently brushing away the tears gathering at the edges of Evan’s eyes. “Don’t cry, honey. You can come with me.”

It took some effort to get him upright, but eventually, Tommy had an arm around Evan’s waist and one of Evan’s draped over his shoulder as they headed for the door.

Suddenly, a man stepped in front of them.

“So, you came for your boy?” the man slurred, swaying unsteadily. Tommy recognized his voice as the caller.

Tommy tensed, his mind racing through potential threats, readying himself to protect Evan. Only, instead of hostility or the expected homophobic barb, the man pointed a half-empty beer at him and said, “You better fix it. Take him home and grovel.”

Tommy blinked, caught off guard. “Uh…yeah,” he managed, unsure how else to respond.

The drunk shook his head and stumbled back toward the bar, muttering incomprehensible things all the while.

Tommy exhaled deeply. “Alright, let’s get out of here,” he muttered, tightening his grip on Evan as they headed for the exit.

______________________________________

The drive to his house was quiet, except for the occasional hiccup or muttered word from Evan.Tommy had gotten him to drink a full water bottle, before Evan slumped against the passenger window for the rest of the trip. He did his best to drive carefully, not wanting to dislodge him or have him bump his head. Tommy kept his eyes on the road but couldn’t help glancing at him every few seconds.

When they finally arrived, Tommy parked and hurried to the passenger side, slipping an arm under Evan’s knees and bracing the other against his back. He lifted him with a grunt, feeling Evan’s steady weight against him as the other man buried his face in Tommy’s neck, sniffing deeply and mumbling against his skin. The sensation of Evan’s lips on his neck sent a shiver throughout his body.

Taking a deep breath, Tommy moved inside, carrying Evan to the couch. He eased him down gently, propping him up as he kneeled in front of him to tug off his shoes, feeling Evan’s eyes following his every movement as he did so.

Then Evan mumbled, hesitantly. “Tommy, I’m sorry…just, sorry.”

Tommy froze, his throat tightening. He looked up sharply. “Evan, you don't need to apologise for this. I'm always happy to help you,” he said, keeping his voice calm, trying to soothe him.

But Evan shook his head weakly, a new wave of tears spilling over his flushed cheeks. “No.” he whispered, voice breaking. “I'm sorry for being too much. For messing it all up. I always…jump ahead of myself and…I didnt mean to scare you away.” His voice trailed off in a pleading tone.

The words hit Tommy like an avalanche, burying him under their weight and his breath left him in a rush. His hands stilled, hovering over Evan’s untied laces as his chest clenched painfully. Too much? He couldn't believe what he was hearing. When Tommy left that night, he knew he was breaking both their hearts, but he thought Evan would be able to move on easily. He’d convinced himself that someone as bright, good and incredibly kind as Evan would find someone better—someone who really deserved him. And in the end, Tommy wouldn’t be missed.

But, he hadn't anticipated this. He hadn't anticipated this.

Tommy sat back on his heels, trembling as the realization of Evans words and his own actions crashed down on him. He needed to fix this. He couldn't live with himself knowing that this wonderful selfless man blamed himself for Tommy’s cowardice.

“Hey,” Tommy said softly, his voice catching in his throat as he tried to draw Evan’s eyes to his. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out and brushing a stray curl from Evan’s damp forehead, his breath stuttering when Evan followed the motion.

Tommy swallowed hard in the silence of the room, broken only by Evan’s quiet sniffles.

“It wasn't you, okay? It wasn't you, Evan.” Tommy said, his voice thick, as he emphasized Evan’s name, needing him to understand that. “This…It was entirely on me.”

Evan frowned, the words lighting a fire in his eyes and stirring something defiant in him. His expression shifted, his mouth tightening as his brows furrowed in bitter disbelief. “Really?” He scoffed, voice cutting. “You're giving me the "it's not you, it's me" line?” A bitter laugh spewing from his mouth. “They all leave me, but it's okay…because it's not me,” he said derisively.

Evan sucked in a shuddering breath, his voice cracking when he spoke again. “You want to know something funny? I didn't think you’d leave. But—” His hands rose up to his face, gripping it as though trying to keep the words in, before giving up. They dropped limply to his lap.

Tommy’s heart twisted, knowing what was coming. He could already feel the sting of it.

“You left. You left me, Tommy.”

Evan’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the words still reverberated in the room.

And Tommy shattered.

Those words, they obliterated him. Every defense he had crumbled, leaving him raw and exposed, guilt bleeding through every crack. He felt the tears running down his face, and he tried to hold himself together—not wanting Evan to see what his words had done to him. But wasn’t that the very thing that had brought them here? Tommy hiding himself away from the world, scared to show himself for fear of being hurt. But he was already hurting—and had been from the moment he walked out the door that night.

He looked up at Evan, whose face was heartbreakingly vulnerable, tears shimmering in his blue eyes, but completely open to him, his pain laid bare for Tommy to see. It was only fair, Tommy did the same.

“I know,” Tommy rasped, voice thick and uneven. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

He pressed a hand to his chest—instinctive, desperate—as if trying to hold his heart together.

For one wild moment, Tommy wished he could rip it out and hand it to Evan, to show him that it had always been his. From the day Evan had smiled at him after a hurricane rescue gone well, Tommy’s heart had belonged to him. It always would. Instead, his fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, useless, trembling, trying to show how much he meant it.

“I’m so sorry, Evan,” he whispered again.

Evan blinked at him, fresh tears spilling over as he exhaled a trembling breath. The room was silent save for their uneven breathing. They just looked at each other, months of pain and longing passing unspoken between them.

Then, they moved at the same time—Tommy leaning forward, giving in to the urge to touch, to comfort, to heal. He gathered Evan in his arms, pulling him close.

“You didn’t mess anything up, baby.” Tommy murmured, the endearment coming out naturally again. He felt Evan’s head drop to his shoulder, shuddering against him. “I did. I was scared. Scared of you seeing the real me…the broken man behind the façade. And I thought—” he stopped, his throat closing up painfully for a second. “I thought leaving would protect my heart. That it would be better if I left before I got in any deeper. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t any better. Oh god…Evan.”

A sob tore through him as he held Evan tighter, his grip unyielding, as if letting go might break him once and for all. Evan’s arms wrapped around him just as fiercely, his hands clutching at Tommy’s back with equal desperation.

For the first time in months, Tommy let himself feel everything he’d been holding back. The pain of being apart from Evan, the weight of his regrets and endless “what ifs’ that had haunted him—all of it poured out in body shaking sobs. But this time, he wasn't alone. Evan was there, holding him through it.

And Tommy felt Evan’s pain too—he accepted it, welcomed it, knowing he had caused it. It was his to carry, and he’d carry it for as long as he needed to.

Evan didn't say anything for a while, his face buried against Tommy's neck as he took in shaky, uneven breaths—shivering in his arms. When Evan finally spoke, his voice was a broken whisper. “It hurt. It hurt so much, Tommy.”

Tommy swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion. He nodded, taking responsibility for the hurt, before giving in to the need and pressing a soft kiss to the side of Evan’s head.

He knew Evan wasn't trying to hurt him with those words. He just wanted Tommy to understand and…he did.

Tommy’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper when he at last pulled himself together. “I can’t take away what I did, but if you’ll let me…I’ll do my best to make it better.”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with a promise Tommy didn’t intend to break. Evan pulled back, searching his face before taking both of Tommy’s hands in him, squeezing emphatically with every word that spilled from him. “We…We will make it better. Together an—and, we’re going to stay for each other. O—okay?” he stuttered.

Tommy felt something click, something slot back inside of him—relief, grief, hope, love—all fitting together in a way that finally made sense. “Okay.” he answered, unhesitatingly, with the full conviction of a man who’d gone through hell and made it out.

Evan sighed, slumping fully against him in relief. Slowly, the tension drained from his body, his breathing evening out as exhaustion and the lingering effects of the alcohol took over.

Tommy shifted, settling them down to lay on the couch, his arms still wrapped securely around Evan. He felt completely wrung out, pulled inside out, but for the first time in months, he felt no regret.

He looked down at Evan, now curled up against him, his face tranquil and smoothed in sleep. Tommy brushed a hand lightly over his back, grounding himself in the reality of holding him again.

Tomorrow, they would talk. Whether Evan remembered tonight or not, Tommy would lay everything out again. He’d fight for them—for the second chance he’d been too afraid to ask for before. Therapy, hard conversations, whatever it took.

Because now he knew. He’d finally realized what he should have understood all along: Evan deserved someone who would stay.

And Tommy was done running.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but his mind flashed to Evan squeezing his hands and promising they’d do it together. Hope flickered unwaveringly in his chest, easing the ache in his heart and, at long last Tommy felt like he could breathe again.

Evan stirred slightly, his fingers twitching against Tommy’s arm as he mumbled, “Stay.”

Tommy pressed a kiss to Evan’s hair as he whispered “I’m not going anywhere, love. Not this time.”

And he meant it.

[alwaysurvalentine]

the love bug - st ficlet

Based on a prompt from my @steddiebingo 12 Days of Christmas card: 'blind date'

wc: 854 | cw: none | more info: modern au, pre-relationship, Steve is a teacher (I'm thinking middle school) and Eddie works at a music store

enjoy! 💛

~

Eddie knows he could’ve saved himself from the chill seeping into his bones by getting dropped off right in front of the restaurant. However, getting dropped off a block away meant he could scope out this mysterious stranger Chrissy’s set him up with. The place they’re meeting has a line of windows that face the street that he’s hoping to use to his advantage. He doesn’t even really know what the guy looks like, but Chrissy said that he’d be there and that he’d have a red rose on the table. Easy to spot. 

To say Eddie’s wary is an understatement. He’s really only doing this to get Chrissy off of his back. Ever since she’s been bitten by the love bug she’s made it a personal goal to help all of her friends find love. Now, did her meddling help their friends Nancy and Barb finally get together? Maybe, but that’s besides the point. Both of them having been dancing around each other for as long as Eddie can remember, not so stolen glances sent to each other every time the group got together. 

Love and Eddie just don’t mix, and he’s accepted that. A series of terrible exes will do that to you. But Eddie’s okay with being alone, it’s not like he’s ever wanting for company, but asking a hookup for something more than physical is just asking to be ghosted. So it’s just fine with him to keep on working at the Music Warehouse and meeting up with his friends for dinner instead of worrying about who is going to help him raise his rats. 

The windows cast a warm light onto the street, ice glittering, and Eddie sees it – a bright red rose sitting next to the prettiest man he’s ever seen. How was he supposed to know that a man named Steve was going to be a modern day Adonis? This is something that Chrissy should’ve warned him about! Now he’s second guessing his maroon button down and black jeans. He would’ve at least done some eyeliner if he’d known, and if things don’t go well he’s going to be talking to Chrissy about what needs to be shared if he goes out with someone. One of those letting him know if he’ll be sitting across from a literal model or just some friend of a friend that works in corporate.

When he steps in, a blast of warm air hits him and he shudders. His cheeks have to be pink from the cold, fingers tingling as he walks over to the table. Steve hasn’t noticed him yet, eyes tracing over the menu instead, and his wire frame glasses just about take Eddie out.

“Uh, Steve?” 

At his words, Steve looks up, eyebrow raised in question only for a moment before a soft smile settles on his face.

“You must be Eddie?”

~

Dinner ends too soon. Eddie could sit here and talk with Steve all night, but the pointed looks from the staff are enough to have him grabbing his jacket.

“Looks like we need to scoot out of here. I think they’re about to close.”

By the sheepish look on Steve’s face he hadn’t noticed the stares. He rushes to grab his own jacket, sliding it on even as he starts towards the door. They don’t even make it to the door before their dishes are cleared from the table. Eddie flashes a quick smile and shrugs when he makes eye contact with their waitress, following Steve out quickly.

“I didn’t realize how late it was getting. Sorry about that.” A light blush covers Steve’s cheeks, eyes turned to the sidewalk. 

“I didn’t mind. Guess it is kinda late though, and you’ve got all those papers to grade tomorrow. Wouldn’t want Mr. Harringtonslacking on the job.”

“Oh hush.” Steve gently shoves at Eddie’s shoulder, a cloud escaping his mouth when he laughs. It might only be their first meeting, but Eddie’s already imagining how nice Steve would look in the summer, moles popping out against tan skin. “I really do need to head out. Dinner was nice.” Steve hesitates for a moment, looking like he’s about to step away before reaching into his back pocket. “I’d like to do it again, think you can just add your number here?” 

When Eddie looks at the screen it’s to an empty contact, cursor blinking away. The phone buzzes and he gets a glimpse of a text from ‘Birdie’ saying ok Steven I’m so glad you’re having fun but… so he rushes to put in his name and number. 

Eddie gets an eyebrow raise from Steve when he passes the phone back, “Oh, ‘Mr. Right’ huh? Very presumptuous of you.”, but the grin on Steve’s face lets Eddie know the risk was worth it. Faintly he hears the phone buzz again and when Steve glances down his eyebrows furrow.

“Oh! I really do need to go, I’m sorry. Have a good night, Eddie!” 

And quick as a flash, Steve steps forward and presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek. 

Looks like he’s been bitten by the love bug too. 

[codtrashsammy]

oh no i'm having more soft Ghoap thoughts

okokko this is more of a little ficlet thing but it makes my lil heart happy so enjoy <3

also y'all i do not be editing these. at all. I just be throwin shit down on paper and making my brain produce dopamine.

if you all have any requests though pls feel free to drop into my ask box <3 I will gladly write whatever. I'm sure i'll come up with rules eventually, but rn I'm pretty open-minded and can't think of much I would refuse <3

You're waltzing around your apartment, half asleep but with a tired smile on your face. Johnny comes back today, after all, and of course that means Simon will be coming too! You've been dating Johnny exclusively for a few months now. Sure, sometimes Simon will hold your hand, or pull you in for a hug. And sure, sometimes Simon sits with you in the early mornings on the balcony while you drink a warm drink, and he smokes a cigarette- looking at you with rapt attention and soft eyes, hanging onto every word you say. Okay, and maybe he calls you 'love' and 'darling' but he's British, so it's probably normal. But it's entirely platonic- you're at least 78% sure, and plus only Johnny had asked you out- so you have to stay loyal to him even if you do feel something for the bigger brute.

But! You need to get your ass into gear and make your boys- boy something to eat- knowing damn well they- he will be hungry when they- ah fuck it. You're going to cook them a good ass meal to enjoy- knowing they will enjoy it after a month of MRE's and shitty mess hall food (Johnny's words). So you do. You work away in the kitchen- though the clock reads barely past 2AM, knowing they should arrive around 3AM at this point. You've timed it perfectly, so by the time you set everything out on the kitchen island, still steaming and hot, you hear the familiar playful rapt at your door.

ba ba baba ba

With a grin you glance over the selection of food first- mashed potatoes, green beans, fried pork chops, and freshly made black tea- you make your way over to the door and open it with a grin. "'m glad you're back!" You bout out happily, sending both men a bright grin despite your slightly tired eyes along with theirs. "Missed ye, bonnie," Johnny is quick to just waltz right on in, arms wrapping around you and lifting you up slightly with one hand, his other hand occupied carrying his duffel bag.

A snort of amusement leaves your lips as you hug him back, pressing a kiss to his lips before batting at him to put you down- though he doesn't hesitate once he notices the smell in the house. "Oooh, what's this, bonnie?" Johnny hums out, dropping his bag somewhere in the living room as he makes his way to the kitchen.

A soft laugh leaves your lips at his reaction, but you don't bother to answer him as you turn your attention to Simon, whose closing the door behind him. He's wearing his usual little black medical mask- the one he wears in place of the balaclava when he's off duty.

So imagine your utter shock and dumb fuck surprise when he pulls the thing down, steps forward, places a gentle hand on your cheek and kisses you. "Missed ya, too, love," Simon quips easily, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before simply dropping his bag and just walking right into the kitchen.

Sir, I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?! It's a thought, no words leave your lips as your cheeks heat up.

Oh no, you just cheated on your boyfriend- in the same house with him- with his best friend.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU DO NOW?!

Apparently, nothing but walk into the kitchen with your boys, watching as the two of them are already seated with stacked plates in front of them. You blink blankly at the scene.

You hesitate before taking a seat, sitting across from Johnny and resting your hands on the table, looking between the two of them as they converse casually.

"Take such good care o' us, bonnie, dunnae ken what I did to deserve ya," Johnny quips, looking at you with bright blue eyes and a genuinely content smile on his face between shoveling bites of food.

"Stopped bein' a bloody prick fer more than two seconds," Simon says, voice low and monotone yet somehow tinged with amusement.

You blink again. Huh "You kissed me?" You say it as a statement, but it comes out as a question as you look at Simon, ignoring their banter even though it makes you want to snort in amusement. You're too dumbfounded and bewildered right now to handle this situation. "Uh huh." Simon responds, flatly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world as he takes a bite of mashed potatoes. Johnny looks between the two of you, a slow smirk pulling at his lips, "LT, you sly dog," Johnny murmurs with clear amusement, elbowing the bigger man in the side playfully. You sputter for a moment, looking back over at Johnny, "A-and you're just- okay with that?!" You ask in utter confusion, bewildered but not exactly disappointed at the scene.

So you didn't cheat on your boyfriend with his best friend? Johnny looks at you and this time he blinks in confusion before turning his head and grabbing Simon's jaw, pulling him close and planting a kiss on Simon's lips, causing Simon to grunt in annoyance- only because he was still eating.

Johnny turns back to you with a shrug, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Even?" You stare at the scene with heated cheeks before throwing your hands up in defeat, "...Even." You relent with a huff. ....can't cheat on your boyfriend with your other boyfriend who is also your boyfriends boyfriend you suppose.

[navybrat817]

Hi Navy 👋

I wanted to send something in for ficlet friday (valentines day). I hope it's alright

Can I request something with Bucky Barnes (maybe beefy bucky) and a shy reader, where they spend valentines day in bed watching movies with cookies, cuddling and kisses and at the end, he surprises the reader, perhaps the reader wants to surprise him as well (you can choose only if you want to 🥺🙈). He is just so gentle and sweet (romantic too) 🥰🫠

With these prompts:

“You give the best hugs.” and “Have I told you I love you today?”

Please? Thank you so much 🥺❤️

Sorry, I got carried away

I hope I did this justice, lovely!

Best Hugs and Kisses

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You spend your first Valentine's Day with Bucky.

Word Count: Over 930

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, sweetness, kisses, cuddling, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You smiled as you snuggled closer to Bucky in bed. You still couldn’t believe it was your first Valentine’s Day together. He had asked you more than once if you wanted to go out to eat or go anywhere special, but you were a bit of a homebody and didn’t mind a quiet day in with cuddling, movies, and treats. You had a feeling he’d enjoy it, too, since he also didn’t mind staying in. He assured you it would be the perfect day, and it was.

You had to admit that cuddling was one of the best parts of the day. It was a perfect moment of closeness, and every little touch built an intimate connection between the two of you. The warmth that radiated from his beefy build created a sense of safety and care, and the soft sound of his breathing and occasional laughter provided a sense of calm. Time seemed to slow down, and the outside world faded away until it was just the two of you. You were completely at ease with the man you loved.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, offering you a bite of his heart shaped cookie. You graciously accepted and tried to ignore the heat that rose to your cheeks when he wiped a crumb away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “Something I think you should know.”

“What is it?” you asked curiously, tilting your head back to get a better look at your handsome boyfriend.

He broke eye contact, only because he brought his mouth to your ear. “You give the best hugs.”

You giggled, partially from his lips tickling your ear and the rest because your face felt like it was on fire. “No, I don’t. You do,” you smiled bashfully, ducking your head down.

All your life you had been a bit on the shyer side, content to stay in the background instead of being front and center. Not many took notice of you, and you still weren’t sure some days how you got Bucky’s attention, but you saw each other in the soft shadows and created your own spotlight together. One you didn't mind sharing with each other. It was a beautiful give and take.

And he really did give the best hugs, enveloping you in his loving embrace every time.

Chuckling, too, he tipped your chin back up. “Yeah, you do. And you give the best kisses.”

Butterflies filled your stomach at the soft touch of his lips, your heart melting from the tenderness. There was no rushing, only a slow and delicate pressure like the brush of a feather. When that kiss ended, he began another and another. They stretched on, neither of you wanting it to end as you shared one breath. They were the kind of kisses that dreams were made of.

He smiled as he pulled away, a soft twinkle in his steel eyes. He likely heard how fast your heart was beating and felt the tremble that moved your body. “See? The best kisses,” he said.

You hid your face in his chest. If he kept talking like that you’d turn into a puddle. But you smiled when you realized his heart was beating as fast as yours. Maybe he wasn't as bashful as you, but it was nice to know that kissing you and being close affected him, too.

“Hey, hey. No hiding,” he said, running a hand up and down your back. “I still have to give you your present.”

“You didn't have to get me anything,” you said once you lifted your head.

The super soldier’s jaw dropped. “It’s our first Valentine's Day. I'd be a rotten boyfriend if I didn't get you something.”

“You’re far from rotten, Bucky Barnes,” you smiled, both of you sitting up so he could reach for the present he had nearby. The heart wrapping paper was sweet and you imagined the cashier swooned when he bought it.

He suddenly looked nervous when he handed it over. “I hope you like it,” he said, tucking a bit of his hair behind his ear.

“I’ll love it,” you promised, carefully opening it. It didn't matter what he gave you since it came from him. “Oh, Bucky…” you whispered, tears instantly blurring your vision.

Inside of the box was a scrapbook titled “Our Love Story”. Blinking the tears away, you slowly opened it and saw a photo of the two of you. It was the first photo you had ever taken together. It was one of your happiest memories. Bucky gave you so many fond memories.

“Do you… like it?” he softly asked as you continued to flip through the pages.

“I love it. Thank you,” you answered in awe. It had how you met, your first date, places you visited, your bucket list, and more. There were blank pages in the back to fill up together, too. It was such a thoughtful, touching gift. “Have I told you I love you today?”

“You have, but I’d love to hear it again,” he winked, pleased that you loved your gift.

You held his face in your hands, not shying away when his eyes met yours. “I love you, Bucky,” you whispered.

His eyes slipped shut, briefly overcome with emotion. “I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispered back.

“Now time for your gift,” you smiled, but he stopped you before you could pull away.

“Later,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around you as you giggled. “Right now I want one more of those best kisses.”

You'd give him all the kisses he wanted, today and every day.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet: muscle memory (or not)

For @graciehart because she's awesome and she asked for revival smut. So, this is after Sushi:

Scully has no house, but she has a Mulder. Killer robots made them do it. Or not. Maybe they have to take responsibility for this one themselves.

Rated: Explicit

tagging @today-in-fic

--

Scully sighs as she sinks onto the couch, Mulder echoing her sigh with one of his own as he drops into his seat next to her.

“That was an interesting night,” she says.

He laughs and lets his head fall back. “Running for out lives from artificial intelligence? Yeah. Interesting is definitely one way to put it.”

“Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Anytime. I’m sorry about your house.”

She debates telling him that she never really liked the place anyway, but decides against it. That would lead to a whole lot of questions she isn’t ready to be asked. “It’s okay. But I might have to stay here for a while. Since my front wall is missing and half my things are burned to a crisp.”

“Stay as long as you want,” he says, and she doesn’t know how to answer that either. As long as she wants… she’s too tired tonight to deny that if he extended a permanent invitation, she’d probably take it.

“I’ll take the couch, of course.”

The look on his face as he turns his head is one of pure amusement. “And you expect me to say yes to that.”

“Not really, I guess. But how are we gonna do this, then?”

“We can share the bed.” He shrugs. “Unless you really don’t want to, in which case I will take the couch, or get an air mattress or something.”

“Air mattresses squeak on hardwood floors. You don’t sleep well as it is.” She licks her lips, staring intently at her knees. “The bed is fine.” She can’t help admitting to herself that a small part of her had been hoping to end up in his bed tonight anyway. They went on a date, for fuck’s sake. And since they used to be in a committed relationship for years before it all went to hell, she’s not sure all her previous rules about no sex on first dates really apply here. Separated or not, he’s still her Mulder and never stopped being that.

“Okay,” he says. “It’s gonna be fine. I mean, we’ll be asleep. And we can keep our hands to ourselves.” He sounds like he’s trying very hard to convince himself of that fact.

She’s not sure at all he’s right about it. Not when simply sitting right next to him makes her want to climb into his lap and kiss him senseless. But it’s gonna be fine. They’ll both be on their best behavior.

**

It’s muscle memory, she thinks, when he shuffles close to her the second they lie down and spoons up behind her. It’s muscle memory when she takes his arm and hooks it firmly over her waist, snuggling back into him. This is just how they used to fall asleep. Before. It doesn’t mean anything.

Neither does it mean anything when he kisses her neck after saying goodnight and she laces her fingers with his and lets out a content exhale.

And it doesn’t mean anything when she feels him growing hard against her and presses into him encouragingly before he can pull away.

“Scully,” he says, voice pleading, and she isn’t sure whether he’s pleading for her to stop or to keep going. But he stays where he is, and when she rubs her butt against his growing erection, he rocks into her.

Her mantra of “this doesn’t mean anything” begins to falter when she turns in his arms and he claims her mouth in a hungry kiss. But then again, it’s like she told herself earlier: they used to be practically married; the rules don’t really apply here. And they had a really tough night and deserve to end it with something fun.

Fun. That’s what this is. They’re having fun. Plus, they have needs. She hasn’t had sex since they broke up, and she’s pretty sure that neither has he. And sex is fun. They can give each other this. And they did go on a date. Although that would imply that maybe this does mean something after all…

“You’re thinking very loudly,” Mulder says, his lips brushing hers as he speaks.

“What are we doing?” she asks.

He pulls back, pauses. “Do you want to stop?”

She doesn’t even have to think about it. “Absolutely not.”

“But…” He hesitates. “We should probably talk about this.”

“I agree.”

“About what this means.”

“We really should.”

“Because this could change everything.”

“Definitely.” She moves her face closer to his until their lips catch. “We need to talk. Right now.”

“Before we go any further.”

“Yeah.” She kisses him again and lets him roll her onto her back, spreading her thighs so he can settle between them. “Talking would be a great idea.”

He hums as he pushes her shirt up, and she gasps as he squeezes one of her breasts and sucks her other nipple into his mouth. She’s throbbing with arousal, aching, and honestly, what is there to say anyway? He’s Mulder. There’s no universe in which she’s going to say no to this, not now, not anymore, not after all the hard work they’ve put into finding their way back to each other.

And when he kisses his way down her body, ridding her of her pants (his running shorts) and lowers his face between her thighs, any last remnant of doubt drops clean out of her head.

He moans as he licks her open, parting her folds and piercing her with his tongue. God, she’s been craving this. He hooks her legs over his shoulders and sets to work, lips and teeth and tongue, driving her out of her mind with need. This is not gonna take long.

She made herself bury the memories deep after they split up, tried so hard not to think of him when she got herself off at night, but forgetting this has always been impossible. Nothing in the world compares to the enthusiasm with which Fox Mulder eats pussy. He seems lost in it, enjoying himself so much he’s groaning into her as he presses his face closer and closer, flattening his tongue against her clit and making her whimper as her body tightens impossibly.

Her legs draw up and her back arches, her fingers curling into his hair, and her first orgasm hits her with such force it steals her breath away. He draws it out, sending fresh sparks of pleasure through her again and again until her body protests, slumping onto the mattress, heart racing.

“Fuck,” he gasps, lifting his head and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I missed this.”

All she can manage is a nod; she can’t speak yet. But she’s definitely done mourning the loss of her vibrator.

“God, you’re beautiful,” He moves up so he’s on top of her, and then he’s kissing her deeply, her taste still on his tongue. She hopes repairing her house will takes weeks. Months. Forever. Hell, maybe she’ll just leave it the way it is. Who even cares anymore.

“Fuck me,” she whispers, and he doesn’t ask if she’s sure. He doesn’t hesitate. They know each other; they can read each other better than anyone else.

With one long, hard thrust he’s all the way inside her and she cries out; the incredible stretch is just on the right side of too much. He’s so big. Another thing she never got over: how he fills her completely, how she feels him everywhere, how her body loves this sensation of being absolutely owned by him.

“You feel so good,” he says, voice strained as he stays perfectly still, letting her adjust to the intrusion.

“Move,” she begs. She needs to feel this, she needs to be sore from this, she needs him to just… take her. She needs him.

“Scully—”

“Hard,” she says.

She can pinpoint the second his self-control shatters. He groans and pulls back, then slams back inside hard enough to make her slide up the bed. And then he does it again, and again.

“Yes,” she whimpers, “God, yes.”

He grabs onto the headboard for leverage with one hand and curls the other around the back of her shoulder to keep her in place, and then he fucks her. He fucks her the way she tried so hard not to remember, the way that reminds her why she never bothered looking for anyone else. He fucks her like he’s claiming her, and she wonders if he really doesn’t know that she’s already his. But she’ll let herself be claimed as many times as he wants. It doesn’t change a thing, but it feels really fucking good.

She rakes her nails down his back and wraps her legs around his waist and has no voice to ask him for more, but he understands, he gets her.

The bed is shaking underneath them, slamming into the wall with each of his thrusts, and she can’t hold back her moans, doesn’t even try to. This is more than sex, more than release after a tough night, more than reconnection, even. This is an explosion, bottled up tension and longing bursting out of them with an intensity that sets the world on fire.

They don’t need to talk about this. It’s clear what it means. There’s no going back.

And the relief makes her call out his name, over and over, the only word that matters. Mulder. Mulder.

He knows how to move inside her, he knows how to get her where he wants her, how to give her what she needs. She’s burning up, the pressure in her core is unbearable, but he keeps her right on the edge for minutes, driving her wild but not letting her fall.

Flashes, hints of pleasure spike through her with every push in, and it’s so close to being enough, but not quite, not quite…

“Please,” she whines, “Please, please…”

“I’ve got you,” he pants, “Scully…”

He changes his angle, grinding against her clit, and her body comes off the mattress, her muscles tensing up in anticipation of her release.

“Come for me,” he says, and she does.

She comes so hard she screams, her nails breaking the skin as she takes his upper arms in a death grip, and wave after wave of pure bliss tears through her, making her tremble as her body rides it out underneath him.

He follows her moments later, burying himself deep inside her, spilling into her, his teeth against the sensitive skin of her neck as he gives her a few final, erratic thrusts before he collapses on top of her.

She’s vaguely aware of him rolling them over so he’s on his back and she’s lying there half draped over him. She’s exhausted. Spent. So indescribably happy she can’t stop smiling.

“Wow,” he says at last.

“Yeah.” She laughs, loud and uninhibited and delirious with joy. “That was…”

“Perfect.”

“Unexpected.”

“Unexpectedly perfect?”

She looks up, shaking her head at him before leaning in for a quick kiss. “The ‘perfect’ part was absolutely expected. It’s you, after all.”

The happiness on his face makes her heart rate pick up again. She wants to make him smile. She wants him to know everything he is to her.

“I really didn’t plan this,” he promises.

“I know. Neither did I.”

“But I’m glad that it happened.”

“God, I missed you,” she says on an exhale, and he wraps his arms more tightly around her.

“And all it took to get us here was a few killer robots.”

“No.” She cards a hand through his hair. “All it took was us. And some time.”

“Yeah, that sounds a lot better.”

He pulls her into another kiss and she lets herself sink into it; she hasn’t really felt at home anywhere since the day she left him. But right here, in this moment, she thinks maybe it’s time to finally come home.

[perigilpin]

hayffie week day two: role reversal au | Effie Trinket as the District 12 quarter quell victor and mentor & Haymitch as escort.

Tiny ficlet set in this AU during the 74th hunger games under cut!

Peeta urgently looked around the large room for either his mentor or escort. After the stunt he pulled with Caesar during his interview he knew Katniss would be pissed and he needed backup.

He missed them the first time he scanned the room, and it wasn’t until he had gotten closer he could make them out. To a passerby, they might have looked like lovers trying to steal a moment alone.

Peeta could barely see Effie, Haymitch had angled his body to shield her from the spray of people existing the stage. He had one arm up against the elaborate column she was leaning back against, and the other ghosting just a few inches away from her waist.

As he approached, Katniss was trailing behind him no doubt looking to pick a fight, so he moved quickly. When Effie saw him approaching she put a terse hand on Haymitch’s arm who turned to look at them, shooting daggers from his eyes.

Effie had turned on her heels, headed down one of the many hallways splitting of the large room, but when Peeta went to follow her Haymitch threw up his hands to stop him, “Whoa, whoa. Before anything else you’re gonna have to tell me what all that was.”

“I thought it might give us an advantage. A story maybe.”

“So it was purposeful. You wanna run a star crossed lovers bit?” Haymitch raised his hand to his temple as if trying to ward off a headache. Or maybe nurse a hangover.

He frowned. He had thought it was a foolproof idea, “You think it’s stupid?”

“I’m not sayin it was stupid, I’m saying you gotta tell us. We can’t be blindsided by that kinda stuff.”

“I didn’t-“

Haymitch cut him off, “I’m only telling you this because I assume it’s common knowledge in twelve and you’re either too young or self involved to know, okay?”

Peeta and Katniss both nodded. The hustle and bustle of the tribute exits had ceased and now there were only a few stragglers. Even so, Haymitch lowered his voice, “Effie was in the quarter quell. Twice as many tributes that year, two girls and two boys from every district.”

They had started really listening then. No one ever really talked about previous games in twelve. Not many people had the stomach for it.

Haymitch continued, “She got reaped first. Her girl, Maysilee Donner, got reaped next. I’ll keep it short but Effie had to watch her get ripped to pieces by a buncha mutts when there weren’t more than 3 tributes left total.”

Haymitch watched the realization dawn on thier faces.

“So I’m saying, give her a minute with the star crossed lovers bit. Because she’s sharp as a fuckin’ tack. Between the two of us we can spin something up for you that might just give you a chance.”

He turned away from them, starting down the same hall Effie had gone down earlier.

His final words echoed in the the now empty space, “She’ll be at dinner. We’ll talk about the plan then.”

[wileys-russo]

I jusr re-read Mrs. Williamson and the idea of rxLeah with Alessia as the little sister is something I can't get out of my head. So I have a suggestion, I thought about her usually being a little shit (like in the story) but then also being very protective of her older sister. Maybe r and Leah have a fight and Alessia is very protective but in a sweet way not a mean way towards Leah, more like pampering r but being firm in demanding an apology from Leah. Or something along those lines, would love to read something like thins from you! :)

mrs williamson ficlet, continuing on from here

alessia had answered your call as she usually would, with a sarcastic remark about never gaining back the minutes of her life you were about to drain her from. though the very second you'd spoken and she heard the way your voice cracked she was sitting bolt upright with a frown.

"what happened? are you okay? is the baby okay?" "the baby is fine. can you come over please?"

she was there in record time, grateful to have not been pulled over the way with the way she sped through the last two sets of lights before pulling into your driveway.

the first thing alessia noticed was the lack of your wifes car in the driveway and her eyebrows knitted together, grabbing her bag and kicking her door shut she jogged up the front steps.

you'd already opened the front door before she even reached it, and her features softened seeing your red puffy eyes clearly indicating you'd been crying. "whats happened then?" your younger sister pulled you into a tight hug, rubbing your back which was aching given you were now five months pregnant.

you only shook your head not able to even speak as alessia sighed, shuffling the two of you inside and closing the door as you let go of her. "where's leah?" alessia asked gently as she followed you into the kitchen, the scoff and roll of your eyes all she needed to know the blonde was clearly not in your good books.

"not here." you muttered, moving to grab two mugs from the cupboard as alessia appeared behind you. "i'll do it, sit down please." she shooed you away ignoring your protests, helping you sit down carefully on the lounge.

"shit you're huge now." she remarked bluntly as you struggled to take your hoodie off, the piercing glare sent her way having her eyes widen. "not like that! just, you know." alessia gestured awkwardly to her stomach, wincing as you continued to blankly stare at her.

"i'll get the tea!" she announced, darting back to the kitchen as you rolled your eyes and glanced down to your phone beside you which was lighting up with notifications, turning it over and not bothering to even look at them.

alessia returned and shot you a filthy look as you made a comment you were surprised she managed to carry both mugs in and not spill a drop, your younger sister notoriously clumsy.

"so dear sister. self care day?"

~

"is it supposed to feel sort of like its burning?" you questioned with a slight frown, touching your cheeks which were coated in a charcoal facemask alessia had gifted you ages ago and had remained untouched.

"yes! that means its working to get rid of all your wrinkles." alessia mumbled as you kicked her with a glare for the comment. "hey! you're messing up my artwork." the blonde scowled, tugging your foot back into her lap where she was painting your toenails having already done your nails.

"so will you tell me now what you and leah are fighting about?" your sister asked glancing up at you curiously, not having pushed you too much but still in the dark on why it was that your wife was nowhere to be found and you'd clearly been crying when she showed up.

though as you shook your head the striker sighed but again didn't push you, knowing better than to try and get information out of you that you clearly weren't ready to share.

despite how much of a kick she got from winding you up and messing with you this was one of those rare occasions you were grateful for her, and the quiet thank you mumbled to her was all she needed for a grin to settle into her features.

you feared she'd hold this against you for her own gain in the future but for now you were just relishing in her efforts to make you feel better, no matter how much you might argue the two of you were still incredibly close and despite being younger alessia had always been fiercely protective.

which is why when the door rang and she glanced over your head to see leahs car was now parked in the driveway alessia was quick to her feet, ordering you to let your nails dry and handing you some micellar wipes to remove the mask from your face.

"leah." your sister spoke dryly as she opened the door, the older girl caught off guard as she frowned. "alessia?" she answered with a raised eyebrow. "why are you here then?" the younger blonde challenged, effectively blocking the doorway as leah gave her a strange look.

"well because i live here. why exactly are you here less?" "i'm here because my heavily pregnant sister called me crying and upset, which i can only assume is your doing. so, come to apologise then?"

"did she tell you why she's upset?" leah narrowed her eyes trying to step inside as alessia protectively spread herself to further block the door. "she didn't need to." alessia quipped back causing leah to exhale deeply.

"babe!" leah cupped her hands and yelled out into the house making alessia roll her eyes. "what?" you hovered behind your sister, eyes slit into a glare and arms crossed over her chest.

"this is so stupid love. what have you done?" leah sighed as alessia scoffed. "what has she done?" the taller girl retorted as your hand fell to her shoulder gaining her attention.

"you left me leah." "i what!?

"you left her while she's nearly six months pregnant leah what the hell is the matter with you!" alessia angrily lunged for her team mate who hastily stepped back as you pulled your sister inside by the back of her jumper and mumbled for her to stop it.

"i didn't leave you! i went to the shops!" leah gestured to the bags by her feet as alessia fell silent and took a step back as you stepped forward. "i woke up and you were gone, your car was gone, there wasn't a note and you left your house keys behind." your eyes welled up with tears as leahs face softened.

"baby i've sent you like a hundred messages. i knew you were upset i couldn't find the peanut butter ice cream last night so i've gone to like ten different stores till i found it." leah picked up one of the bags and showed you its contents.

"im sorry!" you burst out into tears as your wife hurried to pull you into a hug, mumbling sweet nothings in your ear and rubbing your back.

"sorry, pause!" alessia laughed in disbelief, leah shooting her a warning glare which was ignored. "she went to the shops for a few hours and you thought she left you?" alessia shook her head, running a hand down her face with a shake of her head.

"alessia i am pregnant and hormonal okay!" you sobbed as leah shushed you and placed a kiss to your forehead. "oh my-" alessia wasted no time grabbing her keys and pushing past you.

"if you weren't pregnant i would throw you down these stairs!" your sister seethed, pausing to take a deep breath as she caught leahs eye who smiled apologetically.

"you are hereby banned from calling me unless its about the baby, you're dying, you're in labour or seriously injured." your sister warned seriously, pointing at you with a menacing look before huffing and storming off down the driveway.

"i love you!" you yelled after her, a middle finger all you got in response as you buried your face in your wifes chest and she helped you inside, still cradling you tightly in her arms.

"darling you seriously thought i left you? why didn't you just call me or read my messages?" "again, very pregnant and very hormonal okay i wasn't able to think!" "right right sorry my love, lets get some ice cream into you then. i love you very very much...even if you're a little unhinged." "leah i heard that!"