#wow look at that fluff

[sssammich]

Let's try again...

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss for Supercorp

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

thanks! alright let's seeeeee

ask meme

---

lena would never admit it, but one of her favorite past times is watching kara. call her a basic useless queer, but she can't help staring at her best friend across the couch from her. she's standing by the window of lena's office, pacing back and forth with a rolled up stack of papers as she essentially talks to herself.

the pacing has since graduated from kara standing on one side, giving out her lines before pivoting on her heel in a split second as if she's arguing with herself. lena can't help the smirk on her face when kara frowns at herself when she misses a line and has to open her stack of papers, haloed by the sun streaming through the windows.

now, lena knows that this is kara practicing for a speech she's about to give as a first time keynote speaker at an upcoming media conference tomorrow. but for now, she's more than happy to bask at this private performance that only she is privy to.

when kara huffs and practically tears the paper in her hands to shreds, lena is out of her seat on the couch and placing her own to stop her friend from making confetti.

"hey, hey," she starts, gentle. "what's going on?"

kara huffs, her glasses sliding just a smidgen down her nose. "i don't know why i agreed to this at all. i'm good with words, but not like this."

"now you know that's not true. you give hope speeches for a living. well, for a side gig."

that elicits an amused snort, albeit reluctant, from kara. "but this is different! i'm supposed to be talking about my work experience and my journey to becoming a senior reporter. that's less..." kara's words tapering off with a shrug.

"less what?"

"i don't know. less cool, i guess. i think about how i got this job and the other people in my office who are just as deserving of being able to share their work and their stories like me."

lena sighs, her heart warmed at her friend's admission, appreciative of her even more and think that through that alone, she thinks that kara deserves to try and share her story.

"then share their story. lift their voices up too. talk about your journey and theirs. let the people know that you're honored for the privilege of speaking to them but you're not the only one, and that the rest of your colleagues are a testament to that," she offers, suggesting a way to get kara out of any potential spiral that she might find herself in.

somehow, those are the right words to say to kara, who is now intently staring at her, nodding vigorously in understanding. then, before she knows what's happening, soft lips are on hers, their bodies pressed together. her mind, her panicking-and-going-cuckoo-bananas mind, finally catches up with what's going on and her body sinks into kara, her lips moving in synchronicity with kara's.

hands appear on her cheeks, cradling her, as her own hands wind up clutching at Kara's shoulders. if not for the need to breathe, lena thinks she would have stayed in that exact moment in time for the rest of her life, if she could.

with her chest slightly heaving, her eyelids slowly flutter open to find ocean blue eyes staring at her in what she can only assume is an identical dazed expression on her face.

"wow."

wow is right, she thinks. "wh-what was that for?"

kara shakes her head, but there's a smile on her face. her thumbs are caressing lena's cheeks. in response, she brings her hands to cradle kara's nape, her fingers just barely interlocking.

"i'd been wanting to do that for a while, but then you started talking and being so helpful and good and i just..."

"had to, huh?"

kara nods, smiles. "yeah."

she returns the smile with an earsplitting one of her own. "i know the feeling."

this time, it's she who leans forward.

[flowercrowngods]

Steve startles awake, disoriented and filled with a slight bout of panic — as always when he takes a nap that turns into five hours of deep sleep and catapults him right into the next dimension for a while there.

Heart racing, he blinks his dark bedroom into existence, and it takes him a while to realise where he is and what woke him up.

And then the landline phone on his nightstand rings again, and he exhales deeply before reaching for it with clumsy, sluggish movements.

“‘Ello?”

“Steve,” comes Eddie’s sing-song voice from the other end, washing over Steve in a soothing way that leaves him falling back into the pillows. He clutches the phone to his ear as he closes his eyes, the smile already forming at how happy Eddie sounds. He rarely sings Steve’s name like that. He should do it more often.

“Hi there.” His voice sounds like shit. Like he just took a — Jesus Christ, has it really been four hours? Well. He sounds exactly like someone who took a four-hour nap after a shit day at work would sound like.

There’s fumbling on the other end, but it stops suddenly. “Did I wake you? Shit man, I thought it was past nap time.”

“I don’t have nap time,” Steve grumbles, actually pouting at Eddie’s words and realising only a second too late how ridiculous he sounds.

“Sure, man, whatever you say. We all know you’re actually just a life-sized toddler.”

Steve sputters, sitting up against his headboard as he gradually wakes up. “Hey! Also, I don’t think you actually understand what life-sized means.”

“Yes, I do.”

Steve shakes his head at this ridiculous, ridiculous man. “What exactly do you think a non-life-sized toddler looks like, Eduardissimo?”

“Like Dustin.”

The answer is so quick and deadpan, Steve cannot contain the laugh that bursts out of him, waking him up quicker and gentler than anything else in the world could have, and he revels in the sound of Eddie joining him. He must look so smug right now, and so damn proud of himself. Steve wants to see him. Wants to kiss that smile right from his lips and replace it with something a lot more genuine.

“You’re an asshole,” he says instead, pulling his blanket further around him as he lifts his knees to sit more comfortably.

Eddie hums, still teasing somehow with just that noise, and Steve just can’t stop smiling. “You like me so much, Harrington.”

“Hmm,” he mirrors Eddie’s hum, but even he can hear the smile on his face. “Jury’s still out on that one, actually.”

“Any tendencies yet on the verdict?”

“Nope, they can’t decide.”

Eddie snorts at that, and Steve has no idea how that can sound so sweet. But it does. He buries his smile in his knees for a bit, the blanket hot around his burning cheeks. He’s hopeless.

“Well, let me know as soon as they do, yeah?”

“Will do,” he laughs, ruining all his attempts to sound solemn. “So what’s up? Why’d you call?”

“Oh!” And suddenly it’s like a switch has been flipped and Eddie doesn’t sound teasing and smug anymore, but instead just fucking giddy! “I have a bed now!”

Steve smiles at it. At that voice, that tone, that infectious emotion. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” More fumbling on the other end, and Steve can only imagine that Eddie is rolling around in his newly acquired bed.

Who’s the life-sized toddler now, hm?

“No more sleeping on the floor for this Munson boy, nuh-uh, my good sir! We are in possession of a bed now. A wooden bed, no fancy headboard or anything, just…”

“Just a bed,” Steve says, feeling like he’s about to burst into a million little particles of fondness and affection and the never-ending need to kiss Eddie. To hold him. To touch him in any way he can. “That’s great, Edsie.”

“It is, Stevesie.”

“Man, I hate you so much,” Steve squints at the ceiling and laughs, actually kicking his feet, the minute breeze providing a little relief for the heat in his face.

And Eddie has no business to sound so smug when he says, “Yeah, you do.”

A pause then, and it feels loaded even through the phone. Steve clutches it closer to his face, hoping stupidly that Eddie can feel it.

“You should come hate me in my new bed.”

Steve’s breath hitches, and his brain shuts off for a hot second there. Before he can overthink this, he decides to just… play along. And listen to what his heart has been telling him for months now.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, breathless still, but his whole body tingles with just these two words. With the possibility they bring. The offer that they are. The question. The everything that’s stored in them.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and he sounds just as breathless. “I mean, if— If you want to?”

“I do.” Steve swallows. “Right, uh— Right now?”

“Whenever.” And it sounds more like an As soon as possible.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, scrambling out of bed as quickly as possible, pulling off his shirt with the phone still pressed to his ear, letting out an embarrassing noise as it gets tangled in a mess of cord and fabric. He scrambles to free it, almost dropping it in the process. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

“To come look at my new bed?”

“Sure.”

On the other end, Eddie laughs again, but he still sounds just as breathless as Steve does. Just as excited. As fragile. Just as many fucking things.

“Alright,” Eddie murmurs, though Steve can still hear the smile. “I’ll see you then.”

And then he hangs up before either of them can get lost in their own heads about this sudden certainty of change. Steve is grateful for the steady noise of the dial tone reminding him that this is happening. But that nothing has to happen.

It’s a nice bed, he finds hours later, fingers combing through Eddie’s hair who’s cuddling him half asleep. It’s the best fucking bed he’s ever seen, if only because it led to this.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 (lmk if you want on or off)

[crimsongrimoire]

never call the iudex's bluff worst mistake of wrios life. rip wriothesley then-now he died doing what he loved (flirting too much and it backfiring on him)

[top-wing]

Floof

Ay, it's better than wet feathers, no?

[anulithots]

GUESS WHOOO WROTTEE THEIRR FIRSTTT FANFFICCC???

It's for Link Click and akjfaskljdfaksdfj I FINSIHED IT. AT 4 AM AND I"VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE FANFIC FOREVERRRRRRR YAYYYYYY

4am, in Which Exists Time and Time Alone. - The_Land_of_the_Fallen_Fairies - 时光代理人 | Link Click (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own]

KSDFJSKDFSKDLFjSDKL

er, gently tagging my link click moots!

@reyroo @sleepy-vix @celestialsun123 

Ta da!!!

[hirrus-peaceful-jump]

Fellow Slang simp-

Are we going to ignore Mr. Lang saying "Cameron is a sadist and I'm a masochist.... and vice versa" in this 2011 interview???????

Sir are you implying that you are a...a...a switch good at using metaphors? Now you look at this evil smile...

The video for science:

[youngpettyqueen]

ummm um fic recs….in a horrible turn of events garak and bashir have to babysit the ds9 kids?

ive been wracking my brains over how Garak and Julian would end up babysitting a bunch of the kids and I had a hard time figuring out something that would work with Jake and Nog, since theyre older and dont really need a babysitter, so I went with them babysitting Molly and Yoshi! I hope that's alright <3

Garak isn't sure what to expect when he the door to the O'Briens quarters slides open. All he knows is that Julian told him to come, and his only answer to Garak's many questions was to repeat himself with a don't ask just do it tone.

So, Garak had. He'd come. In the middle of the work day, something he's not planning on letting the Doctor forget. He'd come, and he steps inside as the door slides open, and he doesn't know what he was expecting to find here, but it certainly wasn't... this.

Julian is sitting on the floor by the coffee table, the infant Kirayoshi cradled securely in one arm. He also has what appears to be a plastic crown on his head, which is several sizes too small, and perches awkwardly atop his hair. The older of the O'Brien offspring, Molly, is sitting beside him, in what Garak would guess is a human princess costume, all shiny fabric and very, very pink.

Garak comes to pause, considering the scene before him. There are little plastic teacups and plates set out. A few larger plush toys are also around the table, with teacups and plates of their own. It's quite the little set up.

"Good morning, Doctor. Molly," He greets, turning a quizzical raised brow on Julian, "Might I ask why I was called here?"

Julian gives him a look that is very, very tired. "Good morning, Mr. Garak," He replies, "You were called here because you have been invited to Princess Molly's tea party." He informs him.

"Tea party?" Garak echoes.

"I'll explain later," Julian tells him, "Just come sit." He gestures to an open space at the other end of the coffee table.

"Wait!" Molly pipes up, quickly standing. Julian winces at her volume, quietly shushing her as he looks at Kirayoshi, who appears to be sleeping. Garak turns his attention to the child, who holds her head up high and informs him, "You have to bow first."

Garak considers her for a moment. He catches Julian stop himself from laughing in the corner of his eye. Of course, Garak knows about royalty systems, so he knows what a princess is. And he can't imagine himself bowing to one, but Molly has a very stern look on her very little face, and he has a feeling he's in for a fight if he doesn't comply.

He bows. Dramatically, with a flourish. Molly giggles, and the sound is... pleasing.

"Thank you for the invitation, Princess," Garak bids her, continuing to play along as he straightens himself, "May I...?" He gestures to the open seat.

Molly, to his surprise, shakes her head. "Not there," She tells him, "You have to sit with Uncle Julian. Miss Flutterhooves will move." She gestures at the plush sitting on Julian's opposite side- an equine, if he remembers his Earth animals correctly, except this one is... purple, and it has a shiny silver horn protruding from its forehead.

He goes with it. Why not, at this point? He's clearly not getting out of this. "Of course," He says agreeable, stepping closer. Since the plush toy can't move, for obvious reasons, he gently picks it up, "Pardon me, Miss... Flutterhooves," He shoots Julian a quick glance, who nods approvingly, and he proceeds with moving the toy to the open spot at the end of table, and then going to take his own seat beside Julian. He shuffles in as much as possible, awkwardly crossing his legs and trying to keep his knees from tucking under the table, "There we are. This is... very lovely." He compliments as he settles into a somewhat-comfortable position.

"Very lovely," Julian agrees, looking at Molly, "You've done a wonderful job, Princess Molly."

Molly gives Julian a pleased little smile. "Thank you!" She squeaks. Then she suddenly perks up again, like she's heard something, "Oh! I have to go get the tea. It's done sleeping." She stands and, tucking up her skirts like a proper lady, she hurries off to go and... wake the tea, apparently.

"Steeping," Julian offers, as Garak gives him a confused look, "She means steeping."

Garak nods. That doesn't explain... anything else that's going on here. "Tea party?" He asks. Again.

"An old Earth game, of sorts," Julian replies, "Human children commonly pretend to hold tea parties, usually with their parents and their toys involved. Hence," He gestures around the table with his free hand, "All this."

"I see," Garak says, "And I was invited, why...?"

Julian suddenly won't make eye contact. "Molly insisted," He tells him, quick and clearly not the entire truth, "And I just got Kirayoshi to sleep for the first time all day, so I wasn't about to risk Molly getting upset and waking him," He does look at Garak again, this time with a surprising amount of desperation for a man sitting in front of a plastic teacup, with a plastic crown on his head, "He cried for three. Hours. Garak." He stresses each word, exhaustion and desperation oozing from every syllable.

Garak knows of the infant's tendency towards tears. He has no idea how Kirayoshi manages to wail for so long, considering how tiny his lungs are, but he's been able to hear the shrieking from across the promenade.

"I'm not sure the Chief would approve my being here," He points out, "Or Mrs. O'Brien, for that matter."

"I won't tell if you won't. Just play along," Julian implores him, "That's all I ask, just play along. Molly is very sweet, and also very stubborn, and I promise you I'll make it up to you if you just humour her." He's very nearly begging.

Garak has seen Julian less desperate in active crisis situations. He sighs, making a point to be melodramatic about it. "Very well, my dear," He agrees, "I suppose I can find it in myself to play along with the whims of a little girl. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Don't invite that on yourself," Julian warns, "You haven't seen her when she's cranky."

At that moment, Molly returns. In her hands she carries a teapot that matches her teacups, and she proudly brings it to the table and sets it down in the middle of everything. "Ta-da!" She announces, prompting Julian to gently shush her again, "Tea time!" She does not heed his shushing, "Want the first cup, Uncle Julian?" She asks, holding the pot out to him.

Just like that, Julian is smiling again. "I would love the first cup, Princess Molly," He says. He holds the teacup up, and it's comically small in his hand, "Thank you very much."

Molly tips the teapot forward. No actual tea comes out. Still, she holds it like that for a few seconds, before she tips it back. "There you go!" She chirps. Right, pretend. She turns her smile on Garak, and offers him the pot, "Tea?"

Garak delicately picks the teacup up by the handle, which he has to pinch between two claws. "I would be honoured," He says, laying it on thick. Molly pours the pretend tea into his cup, and he gives her his most winning smile, "Thank you, Princess."

Molly goes around the table, pouring tea for the other guests. Garak resists the urge to comment on the teapot apparently being bottomless, and instead glances at Julian. "Uncle Julian?" He questions, an amused smirk curling on his face.

"I'm her favourite uncle." Julian grins.

"I'm sure," Garak murmurs. Molly retakes her seat, and he turns to her, "Ah, Princess, allow me," He reaches across the table to take the teapot, and he pours her her own cup. He's not sure of the exact method to this, but he counts to 3 and then stops, and she looks satisfied, "Could I ask you a question, Princess?" He asks as he sits back, setting the pot down.

"First, cheers," Molly insists. She thrusts her cup up into the air, and Julian raises his, so Garak follows their lead. They clink their little teacups together- literally, "Clink!" She says.

"Clink." Julian echoes.

"Clink," Garak adds. Then Molly sips, and so does Julian, so he follows. When that's done, he inquires, "May I ask my question now?" Molly nods, and he smiles, "Ah, thank you. Yes, my question is, what made you invite me to the tea party, Princess Molly?"

Molly sets her teacup down. "For Uncle Julian." She replies.

Garak can see Julian looking pointedly away from him in his peripheral. "I see," He says, "And why was I invited for Uncle Julian?" He follows up.

"Cause you're married." Molly replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the Quadrant.

Julian chokes on nothing. Garak's eyes widen. "Married?" He echoes. He turns to Julian, who's gone a truly impressive shade of red, right up to the tips of his ears, "Married?" He repeats.

"Yeah!" Molly says, apparently an expert on the subject, "That's what grown-ups do when they're in love! Like my mommy and daddy. You," She points at Garak, "And Uncle Julian are in love, so you're married."

"She's 5." Julian hisses under his breath, just loud enough for Garak to hear.

Garak needs to take a deep breath. He's not often truly caught off guard, but that... he feels like he's just been knocked flat on his back. Alright. Married. He can go along with that. He's certainly gone along with far worse things.

Suddenly he understands Julian's exhaustion and desperation a few moments prior.

"Well, it was... very polite of you to invite me, Princess," He manages to get out, trying to slot back into his role here, "It's nice to spend time with my... husband." That makes Julian turn even redder. He looks like he's about to start glowing.

"Mommy and daddy wanted together-time today," Molly tells him, looking oh-so-serious for a girl of 5 years old, "So you and Uncle Julian probably want together-time, too. That's what married grown ups want." She explains.

Garak can't help but chuckle. "You're very wise," He says. Because she isn't... wrong. When it comes to him and Julian, at least, "I did want together-time with Uncle Julian today." He admits. They were supposed to see each other for lunch today, but then Julian got called away to babysit the O'Brien children, so it was to be rescheduled. And, soft as it makes him, those lunches are truly about... the only thing he looks forward to, so, yes. He did want together-time, as she put it, with Julian.

Molly glances at Julian, and then she leans over the table. "He did, too," She whispers, except it's very loud, and Julian can obviously hear her, "He told me he missed your lunchtime."

Garak glances at Julian, who's again very much not looking at him. He can't help but melt, just a bit, just enough to soften up. "Did he now?" He hums, "Well, that's alright. We have this tea party, don't we?" He puts his hand on the table, holding it out to Julian.

Julian looks at his hand. Then looks up at him, all round eyes and surprise. And then he smiles, all warm and affectionate. "That we do." He says, taking Garak's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Ew," Molly pulls a face, "You're being gross like mommy and daddy."

Julian snorts a laugh. Garak chuckles. They let go of their hands and go back to their teacups, following Molly's lead as she sips at air again. Then she insists on refilling their cups, and they sit back and let her.

Julian's hand finds his on the floor. Garak takes it, brushes his thumb over Julian's knuckles. They exchange a private look, a small smile, Julian still red in the cheeks.

Maybe this isn't such a bad way to spend an afternoon, after all.

[minhyeong]

&. 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞

genre: fluff | word count: 907

↳ “I wasn’t expecting you to propose to me like this, but my answer is yes.”

Three pairs of expectant eyes were drilling into Haechan, gleaming with interest as he flipped the half cooked, slightly pink meat on the grill. The smoke spiraled upward. Haechan sniffled, nose a fiery winter pink as he concentrated on ensuring an evenly spread cooking process. The tongs in his clutch scraped against the steel grate. 

You nearly salivated onto the fleece scarf tightly wrapped around your neck as you took a whiff of the food. The two cats by your feet were also lured by the scent that dispersed with the flurry of wind. One of them did a small lap around the grill, tail grazing your ankles in a gentle sway. 

“How much longer?” you mumbled, dragging your feet across the dirt and planting your chin on his shoulder to urge him. You pulled your gloved hands out of your own pockets, tugged on the hood that was slipping back on his head until it properly covered his exposed ears, and wound your arms around him until you could comfortably dig your hands deep into the pockets of his jacket instead.

“Soon.” Haechan did a sidestep to retrieve the salt, pulling you along with him.  

The cats plopped down and lugged their limbs in, basking in the warmth emanating from the grill. The loud sizzles and the serene aroma were almost intoxicating. You slowly marched in place in a poor attempt to shove the hunger out of your mind. 

When he declared the meat was fully cooked, you snapped your head forward with a force that nearly dislocated his jaw in the unexpected headbutt. 

Haechan wailed, clutching the side of his face as he stumbled several steps back. “I spent an hour in the cold cooking, and this is what I get?” You rushed forward to apologize in a panic. He took a peek at you, taking note of your furrowed brows, and scrunched his face into a dramatic, fake cry. 

“Alright, there aren’t even any tears,” you deadpanned. 

He cackled when you caught on and stood up straight again, rolling his shoulders back.

You dashed behind Haechan and desperately leaned your entire body weight on him until he shuffled forward. “I aged ten years waiting for food, so please!” You pulled back when he was right in front of the table and picked up the knife, prying his hand open before you firmly planted the handle into his palm and nudged his arm toward the meat.

He gave you an incredulous look since you were perfectly capable of using the knife yourself while you eagerly beamed at him without lifting a finger. A few silent moments went by as your eyes flitted from his still hands to his unchanging expression. You landed a whack on his shoulder. His torso jolted forward and recoiled. “I’ll clean up! Come on, the food is getting cold!”

Haechan scoffed, pushing his cheek out with his tongue. He waved the smoke away and sliced everything into generous chunks, fighting back a smile when he noticed the way you were bouncing with anticipation. “This is for my baby,” he cooed, holding up a slice of meat as an offer. 

To say you were physically, emotionally, mentally, and in any way possibly prepared for the savory taste would have been an understatement. The disappointment smacked you like a bucket of iced water when he hunched over, bypassing your mouth that was ready to chomp down. Haechan stroked the cat’s back after dropping the meat right in front of it. 

Your shoulders dropped. “You know this cat?” The hunger was clouding your judgment; you couldn’t believe you were almost jealous of an animal you've met for the very first time. 

Haechan ignored the question and the pointed glare you gave him. He reached for more with the tongs, purposely making a show of digging through the plate for the largest chunk he could find. Your scowl softened when he inched toward you with an innocent smile. He shifted to the right just when the tips of his sneakers touched yours, bending over to offer the meat to the other cat that purred behind you. 

The muscles along your jaw tensed. Your lips pulled back to expose clenched teeth. “I think they’re good now. Can you at least give me the tongs?” 

His eyes flickered with defiance when he pulled back to look at you. Then, he spun on his heels and returned to the table, swaying his shoulders in the most infuriating manner. “And this one is for the best person in the world!” 

You lurched forward, grabbing his arm with ruthless pressure as you tried to force the meat into your own mouth. Haechan was a few seconds quicker. He hummed mockingly about how it melted on his tongue. Waving the tongs in the air, he wriggled his entire body as a celebration of how successful his cooking was, completely disregarding how you’ve been open-mouthed the past two minutes, consuming nothing but the chilly breeze. 

Your tongue went dry, mouth crimping. “I want a divorce.”

“Okay, bring the marriage papers. I’ll sign them.”

“I said I want a divorce,” you bitterly uttered. 

He flicked his fringe, smirking teasingly. “I wasn’t expecting you to propose to me like this, but my answer is yes.”

“What part of divorce are you not understanding?” 

Haechan chuckled, blowing on the food gently before finally bringing it to your lips. “Save that for after we get married.” 

[97luvs]

bro is literally fucking gorgeous.

[yoakkemae]

there's a knock on the door. shōto swallows down the rock in his throat as much as possible , using his sleeves to wipe the tears streaming down from his right eye. he takes a few moments to breathe in deeply before calling out , voice slightly gravelly , ' come in. '

[frankthesnek]

Unspoken

McShep, Rated G, first kiss, fluff, getting together

Post shrine. Because Rodney running to John's room meant more to both of them than they admitted. And they both knew it. (inspired by this post from @johnsheppard-assshaker)

John sat at his desk, staring at the cursor blinking on his screen. Mission reports sucked. Mission reports detailing the near death and stupidly risky brain surgery of your best friend? Those sucked ten times worse. He already couldn't get the images out of his head. Rodney's dazed expressions and awkward movements as his body and mind were stolen from him. Taking a deep breath, he looked to the ceiling, staring at the light there until dots danced across his vision in an attempt to chase away the thoughts.

A swift rapping came at his door and he shut his eyes, rubbing his palms into them in an effort to correct his vision. "Come in," he hollered.

It was Rodney. Alive and well, granted very tired looking and with a bandage still across his forehead. "Uh, hi."

"Hey," John greeted back and stood walking around to be next to his friend. "She released you? I hadn't heard."

The scientist humed softly, not quite meeting John's eye as his hand drifted up to lightly touch said bandage. He seemed off–nervous but not in the panicky way his nerves normally presented.

"Everything okay?" John prodded shifting closer and thinking the door closed.

"I, uh, this is awkward," Rodney started and cleared his throat. "About when I was sick, I remember a lot of what happened actually, and about that night…"

John swallowed tightly as a lump settled in his throat, choking him off. Yeah, he remembered too. Was trying really hard not to. It hurt, it hurt too much.

Rodney rushing to his room, pounding on his door, bursting in and holding onto him like he–John–was the only anchor left to his sanity. How frantic Rodney had been about waking up without him there. The unspoken things that had passed between them in that short conversation, that had hung high and loft above them as they sipped beer together under the stars.The evening hard and touching, intimate and depressing all at once.

"What about it?" John made himself say and he knew it came out tight and froggy.

"I'm sorry for how I acted, for running here and– I mean because that was ridiculous, right? Acting like that, like you were–" he drifted off, the last few words being spoken softer, sadder as he lost momentum.

"No," John rebuffed quickly, taking a half step closer. He wanted to reach out to grip Rodney's shoulders just like he had that night. Wanted to say so many of those unspoken things, but he didn't know how.

Rodney met his eyes, and John knew he didn't have to say anything. He couldn't pretend like things hadn't shifted between them, and if the soft nearly pleading look in Rodney's eyes was any give away he couldn't either. So John did it–did what he'd wanted to that night and held back because Rodney had been sick and vulnerable, and it wouldn't have been fair.

Dipping in to kiss the other man was easy for multiple reasons. One because he was already so close; and two, because Rodney didn't put up a fight. Stood there and let it happen, meeting him halfway, head subtly inclining to John as he moved.

"Did I say something I don't remember that night?" Rodney asked when they parted. His tone was thoughtful, and John got the impression that he was asking himself the question more than anything.

"No," John supplied, bringing his hands up to hold Rodney like he had that night. Hands on his shoulders squeezing with reassuring and possessive fingers. "You didn’t have to say it."

"Maybe I want to," Rodney said back, but those were the last words said for some time as John pulled him in for another long deserved, well overdue kiss.

[cakeleighh]

No organisation, only Jenny in the Blue Beetle bike ! au because I love her uwu

Admittedly, if I didn’t say this was Jenny you wouldn’t be able to tell, but that is kind of the point so,,,, anyway, time for more sketches from my phone :,D

If this is confusing there’s a previous post.

Love her, shes an icon. She managed to infiltrate the races easy enough, but it’s everything after -that is difficult. Trying to do recon while also keeping up with filming the high intensity races is something anyone would struggle with. After finally finding the beetle and the bike (easily enough, Jaime literally just kinda waltzed in one day), her job became much more about protecting the rider and making sure her aunt couldn’t take back what she thought was hers.

Ironically, to keep up the incognito act, she made sure to play to the crowds. Building up this personality of a presenter/camera person, which the general public loved. She unintentionally became the face/mascot of Kord races, which Jenny is sure her father would’ve found hilarious.

Anyway, I love love love love the mask. I was thinking about making the mouth like a protogen ‘w’ shape to go with the ears, but it was too blocky for the design. So instead I just had one of those music beat line -thingies instead, which looked way cooler than I thought it would. It moves when she speaks, which would look absolutely amazing but I would have to animate it myself which I’m still debating whether it’s worth doing or not.

[sga-owns-my-soul]

“I thought, if I’m not smart, there’s no use for me anymore. I’m deadweight on the team. I thought you wouldn’t risk bringing me out to the field, if I’m not brilliant then I’m just another liability you have to focus on keeping safe. I thought... I thought I was going to lose you.”

“Rodney...” he whispered, and reached a hesitant hand up to cup the other man's cheek.

[starstruck-critter]

markings sheet for the girl ever, and some info sketches

[anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount]

Phil’s Birthday

Imagine?? Two fics in one day????? Wow, the things that can happen when there’s something called motivation.

Pairing(s): Phil Coulson x Reader

Warnings: baker!reader, reader owns a bakery with her best friend. Y/B/F/N is “Your Best Friend’s Name”. fluffy reader and phil. reader essentially bribes steve into letting phil off work early by promising to make him and bucky cake. it’s shorter than a lot of what i write, but it’s cool. holy shit, this is so fucking fluffy. i actually don’t even know if i did swear in this, but it’s a standing warning.

Word Count: 1347

Summary: For Phil’s birthday, you decide you want to spend some time with your husband, so you make a phone call, and voila, dinner and dessert for two at home.

It was almost your husband, Phil Coulson’s birthday, and he had been so busy at SHIELD, that you had barely seen him in a week. You knew how he got at this time of year, always having hated his birthday, but having paid attention to Captain Rogers’ every year. Especially after he was found in the ice, the two of them were actually quite close. 

Knowing that you may not even see Phil on his birthday, you decided not to make dinner reservations, but you did make a call to Captain Rogers, or Steve (as he insisted you call him), to tell him that it was Phil’s birthday, and that you would really appreciate it if you could see him today.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hello?” Steve asked, answering the phone. “Who is this?”

“Hi, Captain Rogers. I’m Y/N Coulson, Phil’s wife-” You started.

“Phil has a wife?” He asked incredulously.

“Yes, he does. I know he doesn’t talk about me for good reason, he doesn’t want me to be a target if anything were to happen. What he’s also not going to tell you is that today is his birthday. Please don’t make a big deal over it, but it would be really nice if he could be home tonight, at least just so I can see him?” You requested, hoping Phil wasn’t just avoiding his birthday like usual.

“Of course, Mrs. Coulson, the Captain's orders will be to go home and spend some quality time with his wife.”

“Thank you, Captain. And please, call me Y/N.”

“I will call you Y/N only if you call me Steve. And I promise that Phil will be home tonight. If he won’t leave, I’ll put him on a week’s suspension so that he’ll finally go home and rest.”

You laughed, knowing how much of a workaholic Phil was, even if he never wanted to tell you what was really happening other than what you saw on the news. “Thank you, Steve. Really, and happy belated birthday, by the way. I made the cake that Phil brought in for you.”

“Sounds like I should be the one thanking you, Y/N, that cake was delicious, Bucky and I are still trying to save it.”

“No, please, enjoy it. I’ll hand deliver more cake anytime you want. I own the bakery just down the street from SHIELD headquarters, but don’t tell Phil I told you that.”

Steve chuckled, not wanting to take you up on your offer, always the gentleman. “Have you ever made a cake with plums in it?”

“I have.”

“Would you mind dropping one off next week? Plums are Bucky’s favourite.”

“Anything for Captain America and the former Winter Soldier, or Steve and Bucky.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I’ll speak to Phil.”

“Thank you Steve.” You said, hanging up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had gotten a text later from Steve saying that Phil had agreed to leave early so that the two of you would actually get to spend some time together. So, naturally, you decided to leave your bakery in the capable hands of your second-in-command and best friend, to go home early and make a lovely birthday dinner for your husband. Of course, planning to make his favourite dinner with his favourite wine, followed by his favourite flavour of cake with his favourite icing, and to top the night off, it will probably be more wine, followed by a sloppy makeout session, and cuddles in bed while the two of you talk until you fall asleep. If you’re lucky, you’ll wake up in the morning and he won’t have left for work yet, but you haven’t had one of those mornings in a very long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Honey, I’m home- Did you make my favourite?” Phil asked, walking in on you icing his cake while you were keeping dinner warm in the oven.

“Favourite dinner is in the oven, favourite wine is chilling in the fridge, favourite cake with favourite icing on top, and your favourite person in your favourite dress. Happy birthday, honey.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. And I’m sorry I haven’t been here much over the past couple of weeks. You know how work gets this time of year.”

“I do. And I know how you feel about your birthday. That’s why there’s no fancy dinner reservations, just you and me, and we don’t even have to sit at the kitchen table if you don’t want to. We can sit on the couch with our dinner and wine, I can serve the cake up after, and then I can get you all soapy in the shower because I know how much you love it when I wash your hair for you.”

Phil looked at you like the embodiment of the heart-eyed emoji, visibly softening after his day. “I’m sorry I’m not here, honey. I am. Thank you for doing all of this for me.”

“It’s okay, Phil. I told you when I married you that I was okay with you working long hours because I do too.”

Phil pulled the wine out of the fridge, poured you each a glass, and sat down at the set table, waiting for you to sit with him, knowing that if he tried to pull dinner out of the oven, you’d smack him upside the head with your oven mitts. “So did you close up early today then?”

You placed dinner on the table between the two of you, motioning for Phil to grab a serving. “Left it with Y/B/F/N, she’s perfectly capable without me supervising. Also, if I were to drop something off for Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes, where would I go for that?”

“You’d take it up to their floor of Stark Tower, since that’s where SHIELD is operating from. Why do you ask?”

“Steve and I now have a standing deal that I’ll make him and Bucky cake whenever they want so they won’t have to ration it out like they currently are with Steve’s birthday cake from earlier this week. Bucky likes plums, so Steve would like a plum cake next week as a surprise.”

“And what do you get in exchange for this?”

You chuckled, taking a sip of your wine. “I’m sure, the two of them being 40s gentlemen, will insist on paying me. I won’t charge them full-price though, and my only request will be that I get to spend some time with my lovely husband occasionally.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After dinner, you were right. You and Phil had cake, where you insisted on singing Happy Birthday to him before he blew out the candles and told him to make a wish. The two of you started watching a shitty romcom on the TV before deciding to have a slightly tipsy sloppy makeout session. Then, you washed his hair for him in the shower, and the two of you talked in bed until you eventually fell asleep curled up to his side.

In the morning, you woke up to find yourself still curled up to Phil, despite the fact that it was later in the morning and his alarm surely should’ve gone off by now. Looking around dazed, you vaguely wondered if he had died in his sleep and that was why he hadn’t gone to work. But he was still warm, you could still hear his heart beating, and his chest was still rising and falling under your head.

“I called in sick today and texted Y/B/F/N that you weren’t coming in either. You’re right, honey. We do need to spend time together instead of always working. We got married because we love each other, not because we wanted the benefits of being married in New York.” Phil told you, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

“Can we stay in bed a little longer?” You mumbled. “I’m tired.”

“We were up late last night talking, you can go back to sleep, honey. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He told you, softly stroking your cheek until your breath evened out listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

[hcuyk]

just brainstromed more thoughts and. oh my god. what a fucking RIDE this fic will be