#otp: i can’t breathe without you

[magicalandfullofhopes]

Watching Rivals and I can feel myself coming apart at the seams. This badly behaved man meets the most eldest daughter and listens to her? He changes his behavior when she tells him off?

Rupert notices how much labor Taggie does and is truly in awe of it? This man who uses sex and money to get his way is now reduced to Just staring longly at this girl every one overlooks. Going out of his way to just be in the same area as her? Is this a fantasy created just for me?

I can’t even start with the homegrown, organic yearning

[elizabethbennets]

Okay but I really need to talk about how Rupert went from sleaze to tender in 60 seconds flat. Like this man really went from being the most abhorrent rake to being unbelievably caring and gentle with her. This is what Taggie does to him. He comes home to an empty mansion, filling loss with sex and sport, and for once, he can see his reflection. He doesn’t like what he sees, and he wants to be whole. To fill the void in his life with someone good and compassionate and strong. And Taggie! No one sees her. She’s caretaker to her emotionally immature parents; her demeaning mother—and she gives and gives and receives nothing in return. Rupert sees her, though. He sees all of her, and he wants to be the one who takes care of her. Because no one looks for Taggie until Rupert does. He makes her bolder; brighter, and she makes him want to be a better man, erasing all of his edges. God I love them so much!!!

[baronessblixen]

On My Way To You

Season 6, angst(ish). They're driving and Scully is thinking about things. Like getting out of the car or not getting out of the car.

Wc: 1,597.

(written for Year of the OTP. The words I used for March are: road trip, fresh starts, acceptance)

Tagging @today-in-fic

There are no road signs to determine where they’re going. It’s just like Scully wanted it to be. She glances to her side where Mulder is fast asleep, his body at a strange angle. The sight puts a smile on her face, despite knowing he will complain about a crick in his neck later when he wakes up. Her hand flies to her own neck where the tension sits, spreading out. For once, it’s not a case. For once, they haven’t had to risk their health or their lives. A run-of-the-mill case, the only oddness its ordinariness.

Earlier, when she said she wanted to drive, Mulder handed over the keys without a single complaint. Long gone are the days where he shot her a questioning look, reluctant to part with the keys. Or maybe he’s noticed her subdued mood, her clipped answers. How often she’s stared into the distance these last few days, her thoughts everywhere except with their case. If he did notice, he didn’t mention it. But he let her drive, leaning his head against the headrest, and closing his eyes. Trusting her.

“What if we take a little detour?” She asked as they passed the town sign, half hoping he was already asleep.

“Hm?” He replied and by the rustling she heard, she knew he had turned his head to her. “Where are we going?”

She took her time answering, staring straight ahead. “I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

“Okay,” was all Mulder said. “Wake me if you get tired.”

“I won’t.”

He made a non-committal noise before he touched her thigh. She didn’t startle, his touch and his warmth welcome. “Wake me,” he said again. “I want to know where we end up.” He grinned at her before he resumed his original position.

That was hours ago, and they haven’t said a word since. Mulder’s breathing is even; she’s glad he’s catching up on sleep, knowing he never gets enough. For a while, she listens to the radio. First a classic rock station, then classical music. If only her mind wasn’t so loud. She tries to drown out the voices that keep chattering. The scenes that keep repeating.

It happened last weekend. The moment she can’t stop thinking about. She knew something was different the second she walked into her mother’s house. The uneasiness stayed with her as she took off her coat, as her mother kissed her cheek, smiling so hard that her cheeks were red.

“I have a surprise for you,” she’d said and that’s when Scully knew for certain. The surprise wasn’t her brother Bill, who was standing in the kitchen with a beer, talking to another man and laughing. A knot appeared in her stomach and as if sensing her uneasiness, her mother took her hand and squeezed it.

“Dana,” she said. “This is Brandon.”

“Hi,” he said, grinning at her with perfect teeth.

“Hello,” she mumbled like a grumpy teenager forced to join the family downstairs.

“Brandon goes to my church and he’s- oh well, you two can talk amongst yourself!” She pushed Dana towards him and as if on cue, Bill Jr. nodded at the other man and walked out of the kitchen, leaving her and the stranger alone.

“I thought you knew,” Brandon said, sounding apologetic. “Your mother said you were, um, single. That you were looking for a fresh start, just like me. She said we should… meet. She didn’t tell you?”

“She didn’t.”

“Does that mean you’re not single?” The corners of his lips twitched, showing his disappointment.

“I’m…”

“She’s single,” Bill Jr. waltzed back in, exchanging his empty beer bottle with a fresh one. He offered another one to Brandon, too, who declined. He didn’t ask his sister and instead grinned at her. “Right, Dana? You’re single. You’re not married. There’s no one in your life. There’s just… your work.”

Fuck you, she thought. She would have said it if it hadn’t been for Brandon standing there.

“Brandon, tell her about yourself. You’re gonna love this, Dana.”

“I’m a veterinarian,” Brandon said, uncertainty in his voice. “I have a five-year-old daughter called Emily and-“

“Thank you, Brandon,” Scully said, tears stinging her eyes. Her brother was still grinning, making her wonder how he could be this cruel. For the first time ever since they were children, she felt violent towards him.

“That’s exactly what you want, isn’t it?” Bill Jr. kept going as if Brandon wasn’t there. “You want a family.”

“I came here to have dinner with my mom,” she said, turning to Brandon. “I’m sorry you were caught up in this.”

“Mom was trying to do you a favor.”

“It was nice to meet you, Brandon,” Scully said, ignoring her brother. Bill Jr. was on her heels when she fled the kitchen.

“Where are you going?”

“To tell mom I’m leaving.”

“You can’t just go.”

“Watch me.”

“Dana?” Her mother came into view, her eyes darting between her two children. “You’re leaving? I know, I know. I should have told you about Brandon. Bill said it would be better as a surprise.”

“Thank you, mom,” she said, hugging her mother. Despite everything, her mother’s arms felt safe and comforting. She squeezed her eyes shut, tightening her arms around her mother. “I can’t stay. I can’t-“

“You’re throwing everything away, Dana. First your career, now you’re running away. Why don’t you get to know Brandon first? He has a child, a stable job. You have to accept that you can’t go on like this. Risking your health and… Brandon wants to settle down.”

“But I don’t.” The moment she said it she realized it was true. When she said to Mulder that she wanted to get out of the car, she didn’t envision what her family so obviously envisioned for her. She thought she did. Only then did she understand that it wasn’t at all what she wanted. She didn’t want a Brandon, a ready-made family. As easy as it sounded. All she wanted, what she imagined was sharing her life with someone, going home with…

Mulder. It all came back to Mulder.  

Thinking back to that night, to leaving her mother there in the door, to her own realization, she has to fight back tears. Her mother has tried calling, has tried to apologize. Scully promised to call her back as soon as she got back home. Except that she doesn’t want to get back home, not yet. Maybe Mulder had the right idea all along. Keep going, keep driving.

“Are we there yet?” Mulder asks sleepily as if her thoughts have woken him up.

“Did I wake you?” She asks.

“My neck hurts,” he complains. “Where are we?”

“I have no idea. Does it matter?”

“You would tell me if something was the matter, right? I mean if it was something serious. Like… like what was wrong last year.” She hears the concern in his voice and feels his eyes on the side of her face.

“It’s not the cancer, Mulder. You can stop worrying about that.”

“So, this is just a regular road trip, huh? You won’t hear me complain. Kersh might but that makes it all the more exciting, doesn’t it?” He chuckles. “But I’m also here, you know,” he says, his voice gentler, the humor gone. “If you want to talk about whatever is making you go over the speed limit.”

“I’m not – oh.” She stares at the numbers there and takes her foot off the gas pedal until she’s just under the speed limit again. Mulder cracks open a sunflower seed, and the familiar noise helps her breathe more easily. She sees it now, what Mulder meant by saying that this is a life. It is their life. She doesn’t know about him, but she wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else. She touches her neck, where the tension begins to ease.  

“Your neck giving you trouble too?” Mulder asks, as perceptive as ever.

“Just a bit,” she assures him. “We’ve been driving for a while.”

“Do you want me to take over?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Scully, it’s been hours. You must be tired.”

“I’m not.” That at least is not a lie, but Mulder’s eyes remain on her. She feels how worried he is, how much he wants to know what’s bothering her.

“At this rate,” he says, cracking another seed, “we could end up in Vegas. What do you think, Scully? Want to gamble away all your savings?”

“Maybe another time,” she says, a smile tugging at her lips. She’s thankful for the change in topic and Mulder’s attempt at humor.

“We could go see Elvis,” he goes on. “Or do you want to get married?”

He asks in jest. Of course, he does. And yet, and yet. Her heart leaps, her mind reels. What if? They’d still do this. Spend too many hours in cars, run into the darkness, and try to find the truth. But at the end of it all, they’d go home together, tear down that last wall between them, and share all of each other. Her mouth feels dry. She doesn’t want to get out of the car. She wants to stay in the car and keep doing this. With Mulder. Why not choose forever?

“Maybe I do,” she says, shooting him a look. She doesn’t expect the small smile around his lips. He doesn’t look surprised, no, he looks happy. He looks as if he’s been waiting for her answer for years.

“Then keep driving, G-Woman,” he says.

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 5: Two Siren Songs

Pairing: Siren Fives x Siren Reader

Summary: You hear a siren’s song. Being a siren yourself, it shouldn’t affect you. However, it draws you in.

Author’s Note: The moment I started planning this AU out I saw this man as a Siren. Also, sorry that it’s shorter than usual, but I think it works.

Warnings: Once again, there is reference to sirens eating people.

Word Count: 485

Prompt: It was rumored that a siren could only be drawn in by another siren if they were destined by fate to be together. Character A is a siren that traded their tail for legs years ago, but then hears a beautiful voice from the ocean, telling them to go back.

Prompt from Mermaid AU’s for OTPs by auideas

After all the continued unrest with the New Mer, Death Watch, and the True Mer, along with there being no active Sea Alor, you had given up on your people. You had once been a Mer or more specifically a siren. The downside to being a member of the Mer is that you can’t live without the ocean for long. While selkies were prone to longing and depression when they could not return, the rest of the species would start by feeling glass in their feet before slowly withering away.

You traded your ability to shift for permanent legs and a body that never tired of the land. The only thing you kept that still made you not quite human were your voice; your ability to summon your sharp claws and teeth had faded over time.

You do miss the ocean sometimes and still choose to live in a village close to the sea. One night as you prepare for sleep, a faint song filtered into your window. Half enrolled, your feet begin to follow it out of your house and toward the beach.

“This shouldn’t be possible.” You think aloud before your eyes grow wide. “Unless…” Then your running after the song.

Don’t go. You think over and over, praying to whatever ocean diety might still remain. A siren could not drawn in my the song of another unless they were destined to be. You had always thought it was an old myth whispered in Mando’a between sirens.

You’re close enough to hear the words now as you run along the sand. His voice sings of returning to the ocean and going home. Had you always wanted that somewhere deep down?

Your feet stop when you see him. He’s sitting on a rock in the distance and your eyes well with tears. Once your catch your breath, you summon all the magic you can and feel the song course through you. You never really hear the desires of the person on the other end unless you truly focus; most sirens don’t because it becomes harder to eat a human when you know their deepest desire.

This time, of course, you truly focus. A dream of victory and freedom for himself and an army of brothers; it’s melancholy, but beautiful. Becoming lost in the song, you close your eyes at some point. Calloused hands gently cup your face and the song dies on your lips.

“You were brought in by my song, mesh’la?” While he’s in awe, the flirty undertone makes you blush slightly. Your eyes scan over his face, knowing immediately he was a Mer clone. You linger on his goatee and the tattoo on his temple before meeting his eyes.

“Just as you were brought in by mine.” You tease in return, leaning into his touch. He chuckles before leaning his forehead against yours and you both stay like that a long time.

[hlizr50]

Fic prompts you say?????????

#12 for Gwynthan please.

I know you are skeptical, but this is my chance to convince you!

My OTP.

I’m doing this because I love you, and I can’t deny that these two would be disgustingly adorable and supportive of each other.

Word Count: 750

Pairing: Gwyneth Berdara/Ithan Holstrom

Prompt: “H-how long have you been standing there?” - “Long enough.” (I adjusted it a tiny tiny bit based on what I’d written.)

~~~

She ran a thumb over the cerulean stone, her reflection distorted over the smooth surface. While her evenings had become more restful over the years, the training ring was still her solace. It was a place where she’d grown strong, in body and mind and soul, empowered by the people who had become her family.

The Valkyries had outgrown the training ring at the House, though they still used it for any priestesses who still dared not venture out into the world. Which was why Gwyn could sit with her legs dangling over the railing, enjoying the peace and quiet of the winter afternoon.

Perhaps she wasn’t enjoying it, exactly. Perhaps she was more… hiding.

Another year.

The invoking stone was a lead weight in her palm, and she dropped her hands into her lap under its burden. Gwyn had never worn it as a priestess, though she couldn’t bear the thought of letting it go. Cat would have been an incredible priestess; devoted and compassionate and gentle. The redhead knew, now, that it had never been her destiny to remain hidden in the pale blue robes of the Mother. It had never been her call to remain huddled and hushed in the library.

Gwyn’s purpose was to be strong. To empower others who had been wounded to do the same. It had taken a long time, but she was finally proud of who she was, the warrior she had become.

But that didn’t make days like these any easier.

“Happy birthday, Cat,” she whispered into the winter chill, eyelashes fluttering to cool the burning in her eyes. Would it still hurt this much a decade from now? A century? Gods, she hoped not.

“I think you’d be proud of me,” she continued. Sometimes it was nice to talk to her like she was right there. “I try to help people who don’t know how to fight back. I’d like to think that—“ she sniffled, losing the battle against her pooling tears “—that I’m making sure that what happened to us doesn’t happen to anyone else. I just wish… I just wish it wasn’t too late to save you.”

The breeze was frigid against the dampness on her cheeks, and seeped through her leggings as if they were made of nothing more than lace. But she barely noticed, falling into the chasm that still remained in the wake of her twin’s death. Her head dropped, suddenly to heavy, and her drooping shoulders shook with the force of her grief.

Still.

“I’m so sorry, Cat,” she whimpered between ragged breaths. “I love you. I miss you so much. Nothing is the same without you.”

Suddenly she was wrapped in an embrace, two warm, strong arms banding around her and pulling her into the warmth of a broad chest. Then there was a kiss to her cheek, capturing one of her many falling tears.

“You do help people. Every day. It’s incredible to witness.” The gentleness of the voice made her slump in the comforting arms of the man who had become so dear to her. Ithan Holstrom was always so forthcoming with his feelings, unafraid to be vulnerable and honest if it meant earning Gwyn’s trust. She couldn’t thank the Mother enough for connecting their worlds, though the resulting conflict had been horrifying and bloody.

“H-how long have you been listening?”

Ithan sighed at her back, his exhale pulling her further into him. She didn’t want him to let go, and it seemed like the feeling was blessedly mutual.

“Long enough,” he whispered, his breath tickling the shell of her ear. “Your sister would be immensely proud of you. Just like I am. In fact, from what you’ve told me, the only thing that would upset her is the fact that you still hurt so much, and you exile yourself to a secluded roof to try to handle it alone.”

Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut, a desperate attempt to halt the fresh wave of tears from his heartfelt words.

Ithan released her from his grasp, but only long enough to step to her side and tilt her chin up toward him. His kiss was so warm and tender, protecting her from the winter chill.

“You’ll catch your death out here, Freckles,” he murmured. “Come inside. We’ll cuddle in front of the fire and I’ll tell you more about Connor.”

Connor. The brother he’d lost. His own nightmarish night, a world away.

Just another reason Ithan understood her better than anyone else.

[wanderingaldecaldo]

Some time ago, @marine-123 asked for cuddling in bed after a tiring day from the Soft OTP prompts, and who am I to deny them some cuddling in bed?

V finds Rosalind in one of the overstuffed armchairs in the residential study, head down with the latest FIA report, but she glances up with a smile at V’s approach. When V takes position behind the chair, her hands seeking the usual knots, Rosalind sighs and leans into the touch, and the tablet slips from her fingers and drops to her lap.

“Gotta be done by now. Can’t much happened since this afternoon.”

Snorting, Rosalind pulls one of V’s hands to her mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Darling, things can change before I finish reading a report. But you’re right, these are low priority items.”

“If they’re low priority, means they can wait, right? Think you could use a break.”

Rosalind scoffs as V resumes her work. “Keep that up and I’ll have no choice.”

“Might as well give up now,” V says with a grin. “’Sides, can do a better job in bed.”

Rosalind’s rich laugh fills the study, and she shakes her head as she smirks up at V. “Should have known you had an ulterior motive.”

V stills her hands and screws up her face in wounded affectation. “So I can continue in a comfier spot, plus we can watch your housewives shit.”

“And drink a bottle of wine?”

V leans down to kiss her cheek. “Of course. Red or white?”

Rosalind stretches in her chair then stands. “Do we still have that chardonnay in the fridge?”

They stop by the small kitchen to grab the bottle of wine. When she picks out the proper glasses on the first try, Rosalind’s lips curl in approval and her cheeks flush. When she manages to open the bottle without looking like a gonk, she can hardly breathe from the pride radiating from Rosalind’s face, eyes sparkling and smile wide.

The screen lights up the bedroom room in a blue glow as it powers on and V leans back against the plush fabric of the headboard as she finds the channel. After changing into a tee and shorts made of real cotton, Rosalind climbs into bed and settles in her lap. She grabs her glass and relaxes into V’s embrace.

V tucks her head into Rosalind’s neck, eyes squeezing shut, chest tightening as unnamed emotions bubble up. She doesn’t want to face them so she turns, opens her eyes and focuses on the screen. While they still don’t have any labels for what this is between them, Ros cares about her and that’s enough. More than enough.

The President's Merc AU

Soft OTP Prompts

Still have a few prompts in the inbox but always happy for more!

[solar-nightengale]

I'M FINALLY HERE please bear with me as I send everything but uuuuuh 11 from the more domestic prompts post with the betrothed idiots (about, of course, the splendid babygirl 💗)

HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII I am SO sorry for the wait on these BUT we’re finally getting on through them with time!! >:))))

You’re getting like… max fun here for the most part!! For once there’s little angst BJSGHDKL Enjoy some shenanigans <3333

domestic OTP with children prompts

#11 - "Where is [child's name]?" "I thought you had them!"

Well that was a smooth market experience, Lampwick thought to himself as he trudged back towards the town’s large well. No haggling, everything obtained—even the shit Pinocchio said not to get but hey who said he needed to know? One extra bottle of mead won’t kill a man! So with his secret stash hidden away in the saddlebag Iskra was carrying on her back, he waved over at Pinocchio as he reached their spot, holding the basket up proudly.

He was so glad that the other was already there. Which meant the next thing on their list would be lunch. Something he was dying to have at this point. It had taken several slaps to his wrist both from his mind chastising him and Iskra’s wings to stop from buying anything extra just to have it by the time, so seeing Pinocchio present already was nothing short of a relief. The divines were gracious on him today!

His love smiled softly but his gaze wavered between the bags on the pony and then back to the red-head. He almost thought that the man had developed some sort of secret magical ability since he last saw him that he saw right through the bag given his smile growing smaller; but that was until the question rang out:

“Where is Bethan?” he asked, Lampwick frowning.

He looked behind him at Iskra then around realising that the small child was nowhere to be seen.

“I thought you had her!” Lampwick pointed.

In a blink of an eye Pinocchio’s smile vanished. “What?”

Oh that’s not good.

“… Last I saw her was with you.” he insisted slowly, Pinocchio shaking his head.

“She was following you!”

“No?!” ‘Least he didn’t remember her following him. He clicked his tongue as he glanced around again before turning back to his fiancé, whose frown lines were starting to look more and more defined. Something that’s become a near daily occurrence when it came to the little tyke.

“….Shit. Did we manage to lose our daughter?” Lampwick asked, Pinocchio cursing under his breath.

“Damn it. Bethan?!” the brunette shouted, “Bethan!”

“If she hadn’t run over already she probably isn’t nearby!” Lampwick pointed out, ignoring the couple that watched them curiously as they passed by.

Pinocchio shook his head and groaned. “You go left and I right! And see if Iskra can’t find her elsewhere. I’m not leaving this marketplace without finding the kid!”

Ever the child, the red-head pouted and blew out a raspberry. “Damn, that’s a shame and here I hoped for an early dinner tonight.” He held his hands up in mock surrender at the look his man gave him, just about to walk off when-

“Wish for it no longer.”

Stepping out of the crowd was the bartender carrying one small girl who sat at his hips with her odd-coloured eyes bright. She already had a sandwich on her… something Lampwick couldn’t help but envy.

Pinocchio on the other hand let out a noise in relief as he walked over “Eugene! Oh thank the ancients!” he held his arms out, the kid stuffing the sandwich between her teeth and reached out, eagerly letting the woodcarver take her. The man bounced her against his side, adjusting his hold on her so it was more comfortable. “Are you alright?”

“She’s fine, she was with me until now.” Eugene spoke up, Beth giving a very enthusiastic nod of agreement before taking another bite.

“How so?” Lampwick chipped in, smirking as he wiggled his fingers up at the kid and her little snack, successfully making her squeak as she pulled her food and whole self back.

“Walked into the inn, said she lost both of you.” Eugene explained, standing remotely still in the wake of the woodcarver’s struggle.

Pinocchio grunted between reaching out to cup the back of the kid’s head as she leaned further back against his hold. “Oh that’s good-”

“But that was after she tried to steal the cheese form one of the tables our customers were sitting at in an attempt to get my attention.” the man continued and Pinocchio’s brows shot up in surprise.

Lampwick choked back a laugh, hiding it as a cough the second the woodcarver glanced over. Bethan had soon started giggling as well, but it too quickly silenced by the look Pinocchio gave her. The child shrunk down mumbling an “I’m sorry” into the last couple of bites of sandwich she was holding and refused to meet the man’s eye any longer. Pinocchio sighed quietly as his expression softened and he combed a hand through her hair and settled it on the small of her back, hugging the child closer. Wick watched the kid relax, pouting all the same as she lay her chin on the woodcarver’s shoulder and wrapped her free around around his neck. The red-head smiled, gently ruffling her head from behind the woodcarver as the man spoke.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on her, Eugene.”

“It’s no trouble. Good on her to show up there instead of continuing to wander around.” Eugene shrugged.

“Yeah for sure.”

“I’d best get going. See you guys around.” The man huffed as he stepped back and moved into the crowd.

Lampwick had to pull his hand back rapidly at the speed the child shot her head up, just barely hitting Pinocchio’s head in the process.

“Bye misser Gene!” she called out and gave the man a wave, Eugene looking back and giving her a short one in return.

Pinocchio set the toddler down, letting her take his hand before grabbing the second basket they had brought with them and set off. Lampwick fell into step with the other man, a cheeky grin plastered on his face as he winked down at the toddler next to them. She was quick to reach up and out for his wrist, the red-head relenting and letting her take it as he huffed.

“Guess there’s some perks of showing her the tavern.” Lampwick grinned, his smile only widening when Pinocchio looked back at him, still unamused.

“Yes. Very.” Came the curt response, but the smirk refused to leave the man’s face. “But let’s not teach our child to pick pocket for attention, yeah?”

“Hey it worked wonders last time, so she may as well keep at it!” Lampwick chuckled, even as the other groaned.

Welp! Guess dinner was completely on him tonight!

[rwifw]

Bruce with boyfriend - HC NSFW and OTP

------------------------------------------------------------------------------I did this out of order!

Headcanons of my favorite man.

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___ making Bruce his favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

___ having to help Bruce undress after an injury, but in most cases to wear after Hulk leaves his body.

___ explore Bruce's body with nothing but the tongue. That always stimulates Bruce's body even more and if _ hits the right spot he can make him cum.

When ___ is usually too tired or stressed Bruce fucking ___ so hard and so good that ___ can’t even get a full word out, only moans and half-uttered curses.

"Oh, can’t find your clothes? Wear mine, they look better on you anyway." ___ blushes and Tony takes audio of everything.

The leather crop trailed over sensitive skin, making ___ shiver. His breath caught, eyes fluttering shut. "No" reply Bruce. A gentle sting, making sensitive skin only more sensitive. "Eyes open. Keep them on the mirror, sweet thing. I want you to watch me take you apart." From that moment on, ___ moderates that Bruce does not drink too much.

Bruce and ___ going on social media and finding all of your posts about them. It was Tony's fault and idea.

___ pulling in Bruce by his necktie and giving him a long, passionate kiss.

Bruce is waking up in the middle of the night, shaking, breathing heavily, maybe even crying. ___ wakes up as well, immediately knows what is happening and starts cuddling Bruce.

___ and Bruce disheveled and blissed out after a lovemaking session together.

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Please do not republish, translate, or copy my work without my permission!

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[seraphfighter]

Hey! 3 for the OTP prompts! ❤️❤️❤️

3. Write about your ship holding hands in a tense moment.

Listen, I do not know how this turned into a 1.6k-word piece, but it did. For some context, this is set in my modern au, because in the canon au Val would simply not put up with this, the badass merc that she is. (and you can blame @glitchinginthegarden for the idea)

To anyone reading, be advised: This fic has references to past abuse and features a man being creepy and scummy in general.

The night air feels refreshing after being in the stuffy bar all night. 

V retreats to the entrance of the alleyway next to the bar's main doors. Leaning back against the brick wall, she pulls out her pack of cigarettes and places one between her lips to light it. She takes a deep drag and exhales, the smoke billowing out in front of her. God, she’s worn out. Nights with Judy are fun but she can only handle being crowded against a bunch of drunk people for so long. It’s not her scene. 

Checking the time, V pulls her phone out of her pocket. 10:03 PM. Johnny should be here soon. He’d agreed to pick her up coming back from a late night at the studio. Shockingly, he didn’t whine about her lack of a car this time. Probably because she’s sleeping over at his place. She’d been planning on it anyway and she wasn’t going to hop on her bike after a couple of drinks, even though she doesn’t feel the effects of the alcohol. 

She occupies her time by scrolling through her feed on her phone while she smokes. Hearing footsteps to her right, she doesn’t think anything of it until a deep voice asks, “Got a spare cig?” 

V glances up at the man coming to a stop by her side. Already, she’s annoyed. She has no interest in talking to a random stranger. Hoping he’ll take the cigarette and leave her alone, she pulls out her pack and passes him one. “Thanks,” the man says, mustering what appears to be his best attempt at a charming grin as he uses his own lighter to light it. 

She doesn’t respond and returns her attention to her phone. But as her luck has it, the man doesn’t leave and keeps speaking, “What are you doing out here all by yourself?” 

Fuck, she knows where he’s going with this. “Not interested,” she responds flatly, not bothering to look up from her phone. 

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be like that. I’m just saying a pretty woman shouldn’t be out here by yourself like this.” Out of her peripherals, she sees him move a step closer. She moves a step back. 

Unease begins to curl in her gut. She shuts her phone’s screen off but keeps it in her hand with a tight grip as she turns her attention to the man. “I said, I’m not interested.” 

The man blatantly drags his eyes over her body and she fights back a shudder. A picture of false innocence, he tilts his head. “I’m just trying to be friendly here. Night City’s dangerous you know, it’s not safe for a woman as beautiful as you to be here alone. Something bad could happen.” 

God, you can’t be a woman and go anywhere without being harassed anymore. V throws her cigarette down on the ground and uses her boot to smother it with more force than necessary. “I can handle myself, thanks.” She’ll just wait inside the bar for Johnny. Hoping that this will be the end of the conversation, V moves to step past him, but the man is faster, blocking her path. He approaches her and it’s not until she backs up that realizes he’s got her cornered against the wall. 

Her heart leaps into her throat. Fuck, fuck. She glances to the side to see if there’s anyone within sight, but they’re alone. 

“Let me at least walk you inside, then. I’ll buy you a drink.” When he speaks, she can smell the bourbon on his breath. Markus. Backed into the corner of their room. Her palms are clammy.

She feels like she’s going to be sick. 

“What? So you can spike it? Fuck off.” She tries to move past him but again, he blocks her. 

The man’s not that much taller than her but she feels small beneath his stare. “Where are you going? We’re just having a friendly conversation.” He flicks the last of his cigarette to the side and braces his hand against the wall above her. 

She could knee him in the balls and make a run for it. V’s fast and the man is clearly drunk. It’d be easy to outrun him, right? Why doesn’t she have her pocket knife on her? She should know better than to not carry it. 

“Choom, back the fuck off right now.” She’s proud of how steady her voice sounds. 

“Or what?” 

The screech of tires against the asphalt of the parking lot echoes down the alleyway. Before she can process it, the man is being hauled back and away from her. The man stumbles away and then Johnny’s in front of her, his back to her. With a hard shove, he has the offending man crashing into the opposite wall. Johnny spares a glance at her, his face contorted in an anger she’s not used to seeing on him, before he advances on the man. 

“The fuck did you think you were doin’, huh? She told you to back the fuck off!” His voice is a loud angry growl, akin to some of his vocals in his songs. 

The man holds his hands up. He looks terrified, the confidence he was exuding with her long gone. “I-I didn’t mean anything by it man!”

“Cut the bullshit!” Johnny barks. “Didn’t mean anythin’ by it? So you think it’s okay to harass my girl when she tells you to back the fuck off?!” 

V hates how hearing Johnny refer to her as his girl makes her feel all fuzzy inside, even in this situation. 

“I didn’t know! She didn’t say she had a boyfriend!” 

Pathetic. This man is pathetic. V steps forward but still keeps herself behind Johnny. “ It doesn’t matter, I told you I wasn’t interested. It’s the same fucking principal,” she snaps. 

Johnny’s fists clench down at his sides. “Well? You aren’t fuckin’ deaf! You still think it’s okay?  I should teach you a lesson right now, you piece of shit. Maybe then you’ll get it through your thick skull to leave women alone.” 

“I’m sorry!” The man almost looks close to tears. 

In the parking lot and near the entrance to the alleyway, people are starting to gather. Their yelling is drawing a crowd. V sees more than a few phones with the cameras facing them. They need to get out of her before Johnny’s recognized. 

V grasps his hand, forcing his fist to unclench so she can weave her fingers through his. She doesn’t know if it’s his hand trembling or hers. Johnny looks over at her and beneath the anger, she can see concern for her. 

“Johnny, he’s not worth it.” Subtly, she flicks her eyes over to the crowd gathering and he turns his head to glance. She keeps her voice pitched low, “We need to get out of here.” 

Oblivious, the man keeps babbling. “I won’t do it again, I promise!” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Johnny snarls at him. 

“Johnny.” She tugs on his hand, more insistent this time. “Let’s go.” 

He wants to fight her on it, she can tell, but ultimately he steps back. He turns to leave but not before growling to the man, “Get out of here. I better not see your fuckin’ face again or I’ll bash your skull in.” 

Hearing a few murmurs of Johnny’s name, V keeps her head low and turned away as they retreat from the alley, still not used to the public attention. Johnny, as usual, is unbothered. He keeps his head held straight and high as they make the short walk to the Porsche. As soon as they're sat inside, he peels out of the parking lot, gripping her hand tightly where it rests on the center console. 

The farther they get from the bar, the more adrenaline V feels fade out of her body. The glass of the window is cool against her forehead as she rests against it. She closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing until her heart rate slows and there’s no longer bile climbing up her throat. 

She doesn’t notice Johnny pulling over until they're stopped along the side of an unbusy street. Lifting her head from the window, she turns to ask Johnny what he’s doing, but he doesn’t give her a chance before his free hand cradles the side of her face and his lips are on hers. V exhales through her nose and melts into it, languidly kissing him until he pulls away. His eyes dart over her face. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” He asks quietly and tucks her hair behind her ear. 

“Yeah.” When her voice comes out shaky, she clears her throat and tries again, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little shaken up is all.” She tightens her grip on his hand as she pauses for a moment, gnawing on the inside of her lip. She debates on continuing. “Memories and all that, y’know.” 

Understanding fills Johnny’s features. “Shoulda let me beat the fucker up,” he mutters darkly. “Teach him a lesson.” 

“The last thing we need right now is you getting a criminal offense. You know that.” She smiles wryly. “The media would have a hay day with it, though.” 

He scoffs, “The media’s published worst things about me. Still doesn’t make it right, what he did. What either of them did.” 

She blinks past the threat of tears. Dropping her head to his shoulder, she breathes in the familiar smell of tobacco and cyprus. “I know.” Johnny pets the back of her head, toying with her hair and if he notices a few tears soak into the fabric of his jacket, he doesn’t say anything. “Can we just go home, get some greasy takeout, drink too much, and watch a shitty movie?” 

Home. She doesn’t even care she called his place that. In her heart, it is home. 

He presses a kiss to her temple. “Course we can, Val.”

[meraki-yao]

RWRB Musical Ramble Part 3: Jukebox Musical

yes I'm back on this MWAHAHAHAHAHA

I’m also wondering if RWRB would work as a Jukebox musical (a musical using pop songs instead of original songs, our darling Nicholas has already starred in a, with all due respect, not that good one: Cinderella 2021)

That way we can keep some of the amazing song choices in the movie: If I Loved You, Get Low, Can’t Help Falling in Love With You. Plus with RWRB being a modern fairy tale and stuff maybe straight-up using pop songs would work better with the entire tone of the show/movie

But like, certain scenes/moments/songs from & Juliet and Moulin Rouge (ok these are the only two jukebox musicals I’ve listen to so far) could work for RWRB (yes I’m realizing this is more me finding musical songs that work for RWRB than anything but sue me)

“I Kissed a Girl/Boy” from & Juliet/ Katy Perry would work well for the entire Red Room -> Hook Up -> Polo Scene, granted RWRB would be more intense than what’s in & Juliet since our boys are doing… a little more than kissing :)

“Whataya want from me” also from & Juliet/ Adam Lambert, even from the same ship, can work for the Kensington Confrontation

This is less direct, but parts of “Elephant Love Medley” from Mouline Rouge, more distinctly in the Broadway show version, Santine sings about how love is not something she believes in while Christian sings about how he wants love with her. The idea of a love medley can work with Firstprince too, maybe during the Paris date or the lake scene: Henry not believing he can have love while Alex wanting to tell Henry that he’s in love with him. Plus Your Song (and Can't Help Falling in Love, briefly, in the broadway show version) makes an appearance :D (Even though personally I think Can't Help Falling in Love fits Firstprince more)

A lot of us talk about how Taylor Swift-coded Firstprince is, and it’s true (and I personally love it), but in a jukebox musical, the TS songs can be directly used: personally think Labyrinth would be fitting for where If I Love you is in the film, but having Henry sing it, especially since the first verse fits the imagery of Henry holding his aching heart under the water so well (sorry I can't find the freaking gif) :

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

Breathe in, breathe through

Breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be getting over you my whole life

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

And my other otp Malec kind of owns this song, but Ruelle’s War of Hearts at the very least lyrically suits Firstprince as well:

I can't help but love you

Even though I try not to

I can't help but want you

I know that I'd die without you

And Nick’s song Comfort (which I have been listening to on loop, its amazing please go check it out) actually suits Henry’s mentality really well:

Wanna stay, wanna run, wanna disappear

I keep biting my tongue just to keep you here

Made you wait for someone I could never be

And it's killing me

I’ll be the first to admit I don’t actually listen to that much pop music, so please please please feel free to add more, but so far this is what I got in terms of jukebox musical and narrative pop songs

Part 1 / Part 2

[lord-aldhelm]

salty ask: 2, 7, 10 & 14, please!

2. Are there any popular fandom OTPs you only BroTP? I mean, Uhtred x Aethelflaed for sure, but I don't know how popular that ship really is.

7. Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now? No, actually the opposite. I have gained a greater appreciation for many characters that I previously did not like.

10. Most disliked arc and why? For me it is the whole succession arc, and with Aethelflaed being given the Mercian throne by Uhtred. Makes my bile rise thinking about it.

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom? This will probably get me crucified, but oh well. Probably not unpopular on here, but I cannot STAND Uhtred! He grated on my nerves from the very beginning. I think he is a boring and flat character, unreasonably overpowered, and too much of a male Mary Sue. No one is allowed to hate him, no one is allowed to disagree with him, or they get labeled an enemy.

He is a shitty husband, father, and brother to his family. I don't blame Alfred one bit for not trusting him, nor Aelswith for despising him. And his mission of taking back Bebbanburg should not be celebrated. He is like the "Saxon Forrest Gump", and it is so unrealistic. Dude has been EVERYWHERE: a part of every major battle, met every king, seems to know everybody in the entire seven kingdoms, and has every strong female character fall in love with him.

He was clearly written as a men’s fantasy alter ego rather than a realistic character with any depth. He is god's gift to the Earth. Every man wants to be him, and every woman wants him. A mighty warlord who never looses a fight. He is overpowered and overwhelms the story, so that none of the other characters can eat, shit, or breathe without asking for his help. Every King and Lord across the lands calls on him for help, like he is Hercules or something. Give me a break.

[elizabethbennets]

Literally cannot stop thinking about Rupert and Taggie I am not okay over here!!!!!

[gaelic-symphony]

A Year in the Life: September

Twelve vignettes from the married life of Tara Lewis and Emily Prentiss, written for the Year of the OTP writing challenge.

Prompt: Hurt/comfort. Also fills the square "I'll take care of you" for @prentiss-theorem's bingo challenge.

Words: 652

Warnings: Hospitals, minor injuries (nothing too graphic)

Read on AO3 or below the cut

            Chasing after unsubs in boots over uneven terrain meant there was always the possibility of injury, and Tara felt the pop as her leg gave way beneath her and she tumbled to the ground.  An x-ray at the hospital confirmed it: Her ankle was broken.  Emily rushed over to the hospital as soon as she got the call from Matt that Tara was hurt, and she flung open the door to the hospital room where an orthopedist was preparing gauze and plaster to wrap Tara’s ankle.

            “Tara, honey, what happened?” she cried as she hurried over to her wife’s side.

            “I’m okay,” Tara assured her, “I just fell, no big deal.”

            “Your wife has a lateral malleolus fracture,” the doctor said, “The lower part of her fibula is broken.  It’s a clean break, and she’ll make a full recovery without surgery.  There’s no need to worry, Mrs. Lewis.”

            Emily felt a little flush and a pleasant tingle in her spine at hearing herself addressed that way, and she smiled down at Tara and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

            “Okay, now, Tara, this will probably hurt a bit,” the doctor continued, “But before I put the cast on, I need to realign the bone so it’ll heal properly.”

            “Need a hand to hold, babe?” Emily offered, extending her hand to Tara.

            Tara grabbed Emily’s hand, and the doctor gently put his hand on Tara’s swollen ankle, letting her take a breath and prepare herself for what he was about to do.  He squeezed her ankle joint, expertly manipulating everything back into place.  Tara groaned in pain and grasped Emily’s hand as tight as she could, her fingernails digging into Emily’s skin.  With her free hand, Emily gently stroked Tara’s hair and planted a soothing kiss on the top of her head.  Once the doctor had finished setting the bone, Tara relaxed her grip on Emily’s hand and pulled it closer to kiss it.

            “You’re doing great, Tara,” the doctor said, “The hard part’s over.”

            “Are you sure the hard part’s not going to be having this big heavy cast on my leg for the next six weeks?” Tara chuckled wryly.

            The doctor began wrapping Tara’s ankle, first in soft gauze, then in hard plaster.  It was still tender, and Tara would occasionally wince in pain as the layers of the cast were added to particularly sensitive spots.  Each time she winced, Emily wrapped her arm around Tara’s shoulders a little tighter and pulled her a little closer, as if she were trying to protect her wife from the pain.

            “Last time I had a cast it was lime green,” Tara said wistfully, looking at the plain white plaster the doctor had just encased her leg in.

            “How old were you?” Emily laughed.

            “Eleven,” Tara said, “I fell off my bike and broke my arm.”

            “Did all your friends sign your cast?” Emily asked.

            “Of course!” Tara replied, “That was the best part!”

            “Maybe you can get the team to sign your cast back at the office,” Emily joked.

            “Guess I’m gonna be spending a lot of time there now,” Tara grumbled, “How long until I’m back in the field, doctor?”

            “Oh, it’ll be at least a couple of months,” the doctor said, “Even once the cast comes off, you’ll still have some healing to do.  Your body can’t just bounce back from a broken bone like it did when you were eleven.  You’ll need to stay off that ankle and ease back into things.  Don’t push yourself too hard.”

            “I’ll make sure she doesn’t overdo it, doc,” Emily assured him.

            Tara rolled her eyes.  “Emily…”

            “Nuh uh,” Emily shook her head, “Don’t even bother arguing.  I’m taking you home, and you’re going to get plenty of rest.”

            “Don’t you have to get back to work?” Tara asked.

            “The team can take care of the case,” Emily said, “I’ll take care of you.”

[seanfalco]

Might I request a soft, domestic Sean and breakfast? + reader, OC, whatever strikes your fancy!

Peaceful Morning

Sean Falco x Reader

Word Count: 716 Tags/Warnings: none Prompt: I decided to participate in @/yearoftheotpevent‘s Year of the OTP (except using reader inserts).  For April’s prompt I chose ‘Peace’. a/n: I'm sorry this has sat in my inbox for so long, Merri! I hope you enjoy it <3

Hazy midmorning light filtered through the gauzy threadbare curtains covering the window above Sean’s bed, filling the tiny attic apartment with warmth, and you groaned softly as you drifted into consciousness.  Hoping to hold onto sleep just a bit longer, you rolled toward Sean, pressing your face to his chest, and he instinctively lifted his arm to let you snuggle closer, draping it over your waist as he stirred.  

“Mornin’,” he breathed, his voice still weighed down with the heaviness of sleep.

“Morning,” you replied, tilting your chin up to find him watching you, his gaze soft as it moved over the plants of your face.  As the sunlight overhead strengthened, shining down to the bed in a long swath, it caught in Sean’s long lashes, illuminating his forest green eyes, so like the lush Oregon wilderness you loved so much.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered without thinking and Sean’s lips twitched into a sleepy grin.

“Not as beautiful as you, darlin’,” he murmured, pressing a kiss between your eyes.

“Charmer,” you huffed fondly before letting out a soft whine of defiance when he pulled back the covers.

“C’mon, up and at ‘em,” Sean laughed, pinching your side as he extricated himself from your clutches and rolled out of bed.  “Can’t laze about all day.”

“Why not?” you countered with a whine, pulling the blankets back over your exposed legs and curling up tighter.  “It’s comfortable!”

“Guess y’don’t want breakfast then,” he taunted, grabbing his shirt from the floor where he’d tossed it the night before and pulled it over his head before reaching for his patterned pajama pants.

As much as you wanted to tell him you didn’t need breakfast, your stomach reminded you that actually you did, in fact.

“Ugh, alright,” you groaned, pushing yourself up and stealing one of Sean’s oversized jumpers on the way to the bathroom.

When you returned to the main room, Sean was already heating up the griddle, his head inside the fridge.

“Get lost in there?” you joked, joining him at the criminally tiny kitchenette.

Startled by your voice, Sean jumped, nearly smacking the back of his head on the freezer door as he hastily straightened.

“Jay-sus!  Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he exclaimed with a laugh, though his lilting voice held the trace of a nervous edge to it and you instantly felt guilt seep into your stomach.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” you exclaimed, feeling like an idiot, but Sean merely shook his head, an apologetic smile on his face, as if he could tell exactly what you were thinking.

“It’s fine, really,” he insisted, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead to drive the point home.  “Would y’like t’help?” he asked instead, gesturing to the griddle, not wanting to see the pity in your eyes.

The awkward reminder of darker times was swiftly forgotten as you mixed the pancake batter, adding a handful of ripe blueberries Sean has splurged on.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath as you tried to slip the worn edge of the spatula under the misshapen circle of half cooked batter, only for it to get stuck and wrinkle together when you attempted to flip it, the bottom side swiftly darkening with each second you continued to struggle.

Sean chuckled softly and you felt his chest press against your back as his hand slipped over yours on the spatula’s handle.  With one fluid motion and a flick of his wrist, he flipped the pancake, the uncooked batter sizzling on the hot griddle.

“I didn’t know you were so talented in the kitchen,” you teased, looking back over your shoulder at him, your head resting against his chest.

“Only when it comes t’pancakes,” he laughed, his gaze soft as it lingered on your smile.  “But I’m glad you’re impressed.” “I’m very impressed,” you murmured, catching his eye in return, til he remembered to scoop up the pancakes before they could burn.

When you sat across from him at the tiny plastic table tucked against the wall, cutting into your pile of fluffy golden flapjacks, dotted with blueberries and coated with syrup and melted butter, though it wasn’t anything fancy, it was one of the best breakfasts you’d had in a long while.  Mostly because of the company.

@super-unpredictable98 @salvador-daley @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator

[twisted-tales-told]

james potter for the character ask 🥰

HIIIII (I totally didn’t coerce this friend…I did not hold them at gun point…)

This ask game

Fav thing: My favourite thing about James Potter is that he has such genuine, true love for the people in his life. And it is painful. It is horrible and it is beautiful, and he can’t help it. He can’t stop loving people even if they hate him. And he would fight for them until his dying breath. Souls like James potter are rare in real life, which is part of the reason why I just love him so much. He’s probably my favourite fictional character to ever exist and makes me have faith in humanity.

My least favourite thing about James Potter is his absolute lack of awareness around himself. Like he has absolutely no idea how he comes across at first to other people and lives in obliviousness. And you know what? U go king. I support that still.

Also his inability to shop for regular fucking clothing

Favourite line: everything he’s ever said actually. Unless I disagree with his characterization. Then it’s not James potter tho so.

BrOTP: SIRIUS AND JAMES SIRIUS AND JAMES. True love exists and it’s in the form of these two. I am obsessed with them there’s something so wonderful about sharing your soul with another human being. Like they cannot breathe without each other. Something stills inside them when they’re in a room together, and the best part is it’s not a romantic. It’s something secret. There is a language of love only these two speak and no one else will ever be able to translate it.

OTP: I am a James/Regulus girlie to my core. I think what they have gives both their characters exactly what they need to grow. And in all honesty that’s really rare in a ship. I find most ships I care a medium amount because they have medium influence on each others arcs. But these two? Oh my god they have to become something so exquisite to love one another. And it’s the most difficult and easy thing they’ve ever had to do.

NOTP: James is in love with everyone so this question is not applicable to him.

Random headcanon: I am not kidding when I say this man wears Hawaiian shirts unironically. Like he does not know how to dress himself in the morning until he’s at least 28. Like it’s the most real thing about him.

Also wheelie shoes. He invents magic wheelie shoes that fly.

Also firefighter James is so sosososososo special to me.

Favourite picture of him: the one where he’s sitting in a field looking back at whoever is taking the Polaroid and he looks like he’s glowing in the sun. I’m so extremely bad with usernames though I have no idea who made it.

[hendolish]

heyyy i’m back (oh no) !! saw this on otp-prompts-for-you and thought of no otp but hendolish!! like a high school au is the vibe im going for cuz no one ever writes them that age 😅

“I forgot my gym shirt and no one is letting me borrow theirs so can I have yours, even though it’s several sizes too large? Thanks, but you can stop telling me I look really cute in your clothing because I can’t stop blushing.”

THIS!! fluff mania <33

jack grealish/jordan henderson | sharing clothes ♡

“Hendo! Hendo!”

It takes Jordan a couple of seconds to detect where the calls of his name are originating from until finally locking his gaze onto Jack running towards him with great pace. The younger boy’s chest heaves as he catches his breath.

“You got your P.E kit today?”

Jack asks finally as he flicks the longish strands of his dark hair out of his face. Jordan thinks he could probably do with a headband or something to keep it back where it’s grown so long.

“Uh, yeah,” He answers automatically, swinging the bag in question from his hand, “Why?”

“Forgot my shirt didn’t I,” Jack tells him half-exasperatedly, “Mr Holland won’t let me play without it and the other lads don’t have any spare.”

When Jack mistakes Jordan’s consideration for hesitancy, he adds, “Please, Hendo. I really think I’m in with a chance with the school team if I keep up with training."

“Okay, fine.”

Jordan pretends to agree reluctantly, placing his bag down on a nearby bench to dig around and extract his shirt, the school’s crest crumpled in the corner, “You’re lucky I wore my skins today.”

Grinning broadly, Jack is quick to thank him and snatch the shirt from his grasp, rapidly switching his own for Jordan’s in the middle of the playground.

However, where Jordan’s already in upper school and Jack is a couple of years younger, the younger is still yet to undergo any major growth spurt, and Jordan’s shirt is almost comically big on him, hanging off of his boney frame, before he’s hurriedly tucking it into his shorts.

“Shut up.”

Jack tells him, probably well aware that Jordan is really holding back from teasing him for it. The younger is always insisting that his growth spurt is coming soon and that he’ll finally bulk up and be able to beat Jordan when they arm wrestle or play fight.

“What?” He laughs out, “It looks good on you.”

Jordan pauses after he hears himself say it, panicking. And then panics all over again once he realises that it’s because it’s his and because it’s Jack and because Jack should be his.

Thankfully, his comment does nothing more that flush Jack’s cheeks a deep red before he’s thanking him again hurriedly and running back off in the direction he’d came, yelling something over his shoulder about being late.

It’s only when Jordan turns back around that he remembers he’d been talking with John, who’s currently staring at him with an open mouth and amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Oh my God. You like Grealish.”

Lacking in any defence, Jordan just tells him to fuck off as John chuckles back in his face, looking delighted.

♡