#prompt fic

[huskyweebo]

Kings accidental consort. PT. 1 [ ? ]

Tysm to this blog for inspiring me to make an RadioApple fanfic!

“ So do you Agree on the terms. “ Lucifer affirmed, folding his arms as if saying to not agree. He and Alastor were on the patio; the only quiet place in the now bustling hotel,

“ yes yes, “ The radio demon said somewhat dismissively, “ I would only act as a parent to dear Charlie when you are not here, “ he repeated.

A sudden, odd thought came to Lucifer, “ just like divorced dads, “ he heard in his head, making him snicker slightly, Alastor tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, “ what seems to be hilarious your Majesty, surely not our agreement “ he proceeded to hold out his hand, Lucifer grasped it.

“ oh nothing, I was just thinking that this deal seems like we act like a sort of divorced couple, and how it would be funny if we were actually, truly married “ they shook hands, around them powerful rays of light signaled a deal being made by an Overlord and King.

Downstairs Charlie and Vaggie were heading to their room after letting Angel handle the new guests for a break. Suddenly, the lights darkened around them and Green light was seen, both girls knew that all too well.

“ I’m sorry but who is making a deal with Alastor? “ Charlie asked. Vaggie raised an eyebrow

“ wait didn’t your dad go up with Alastor a couple minutes ago? … oh shit, “ Vaggie muttered, she grabbed Charlie’s hand and rushed up the stairs leading to the patio where Lucifer had said he will be. The was a lot of commotion behind the closed doors, Charlie kicked it open and ready to fight.

“ -re you shitting me! What is this?! This is your fault sinner ! “ Lucifer yelled once Charlie smashed the door open, her father appeared to be wearing a wedding dress, and blushing profusely. Vaggie burst out laughing.

“ well I wasn’t the one who made a frivolous joke about being married, am I ? “ Alastor said. he seemed frustrated, but he still held his smile. He himself was wearing a black tuxedo and holding a bouquet of flowers.

As they argued, both of their hands flared around. Charlie stayed quiet, not wanting to intervene but suddenly noticed wedding bands on each of their clawed hands, putting two and two together, she gasped loudly. She started squealing making both men stop yelling to look at her,

“ oh my gosh, oh my gosh, Vaggie!! Alastor is officially my Father!! They have Ringsss! “ she said shaking her girlfriend, Tears fell from her eyes.

“ ok easy on the sparkles Hon, “ Vaggie said while being shook, she turned to the males with a questioning look,

“ did you guys seriously get married? “ Charlie ran to hug Alastor, “ NEW DAD ! “ she yelled while sobbing madly,

“ What is this? Dear this isn’t for long, His Highness messed up a deal we were making and ended up like this, “ Charlie was peeled off of his body, and her face told them she was hugely disappointed.

“ what but what kind of deal can you botch that badly to- “

“ WELL TIME TO BREAK THIS MARRIGE “ Lucifer interrupted, snapping his fingers.

The wedding garments disappeared for both, Alastor brushed his clothes, “ There you go, the deal should be of- why do I still have another ring. “ Lucifer stretched out his hand in front of him, on top of his old wedding ring that Lilith gave him, there was still the new one. Alastor looked down, he still had his on aswell.

“ Now this is particularly “ he said off handly, “ I thought you had it covered your majesty, “

“ well I do, give me a second “ Lucifer growled,

20 minutes later and everyone was in the palace with Lucifer running everywhere and looking through all the books he can find, he was muttering under his breath frantically similarly to how Charlie did when she was in a panic,

“ HOW IS THERE NOTHING ABOUT STUPID DEAL BREAKS IN THIS SHITHOLE “ Lucifer yelled out from another room and a book could be seen thrown.

“ hmmm “ Alastor hummed through his smile, he enjoyed the little one running around with tarnish, but he knew the fun couldn’t last. He he assured Charlie then went through his shadow and to where Lucifer was.

“ Your highness what seems to be the problem? “ he asked knowing full well the answer to his own question. Lucifer looked like a complete mess: both his horns and wings were out and he wore a crazed expression,

“ well, funny thing, well um- “ he stammered, then flew up and took another book out of a shelf instead of answering him.

Alastor waited for him to come down, he was like a prissy baby and currently, he knew not that Alastor could hear him from down below. The king cursed him out and his past living self. The book he previously had in his hand fell with a slam right next to Alastor, Lucifer cursed even more and flew higher, deep into the high rise library, Alastor went to pick up the book but immediately dropped it when it burned his skin through his gloves.

It was a holy book, ‘ Deals With The Unholy ‘ it was called. All around Alastor was holy books similar to that.

Finally, Lucifer calmed down slightly and flew back to where Alastor was, he was panting heavily.

“ finally calmed down? “ the Sinner rejoiced, his smiled sickened Lucifer, “ I see you don’t got this handled, “ the King rolled his eyes,

“ looks like apparently once a deal is made it can never be broken until it ends, but we never put a deadline, so it’s not possible… but I swear I had saw something about breaking a deal somewhere! “ he said with a pout, Alastor laughed slightly.

“ well I suggest we go ahead and tell our daughter that becuase she is currently worried about you. “ Alastor said smoothly,

“ she worried about me ? “ Lucifer said excitedly, then clearing his throat embarrassed when he saw Alastors face.

“ what do you mean, ‘ our duaghter ‘ she’s my duaghter not yours “ he growled. Alastor laughed,

“ Well this ring says otherwise, so until we find out a way to break this frivolous deal, we are officially married so she is indeed my duaghter. “ Lucifer narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything, “ go along now darling, please tend to OUR daughter “ The short king muttered angerly as he left, not waiting for him.

Alastor waited for him to close the door. The sound of a Wendigo could be heard from him.

he held his hand with his wedding band out, from it, sparks came from it and suddenly a book appeared in his hand. He reading for a brief moment before shutting and burning it.

“ A slight mishap that I could use, maybe being married isn’t such a bad thing “ Alastor started laughing, he continued on as he went through the shadows…

TBC [ ? ]

[celestialwrites]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷love confession dialogue prompts

@celestialwrites for more!

♡ "i shouldn't love you! i shouldn't, but i do. and it kills me."

♡ "you're my sun, without you i no longer exist."

♡ "no one in my life has ever loved me." "i do, more than anything."

♡ "that's what you do for the people you love!" "you love me?"

♡ "you are the very air i breathe."

♡ "what else do you want? my heart? for gods sake you already have it!"

♡ "there is not a day where i do not want to be your everything."

♡ "i'm willing to fight for you everyday, if i must. you are worth it."

♡ "you're a diamond, love, strong as the ocean and just as beautiful."

♡ "i'm a mess." "you are, but you're my mess."

♡ "i fell in love with the woman i was supposed to kill! do you know how screwed up that is?" "what did you just say?" "i love you."

♡ "take my heart and keep it, i don't ever want it back."

♡ "you win." "what?" "you win." "i win what?" "my heart."

♡ "but most of all, i hate that you made me love you!"

♡ "you love me." "yeah, i really do."

REBLOG TO SUPPORT LOCAL WRITERS!<3

[dsudis]

late night calls, sandman: "I know it’s stupid, but I needed to hear your voice.” ?

I almost never manage to write to prompts but hey, it's the summer of 2024! Sometimes crazy shit happens! I wrote this! Don't ask me how long ago I got this ask!

Dreamling, feat. retired Dream & comics spoilers for how he got that way.

The Sound of Your Voice

Hob scrolled back through his texts, reading the slightly disjointed conversation with Dream that had just trailed off into nothing, and then the previous day's exchanges. There were no selfies, but Dream sent pictures of the things he saw on his travels and found interesting--sometimes the sort of holiday snaps anyone might send, but often things that brought it firmly to mind that Hob was exchanging texts with the newly-human former Lord of the Dreaming, who was wandering the world in search of Normal Life Experiences.  

He meant to scroll past, but he found himself studying the photos all over again: the instruction card from an airline seat; a scrap of spiderweb lingering in an unidentifiable corner of two beige walls; a spoon wrapped in a paper napkin; a puddle on a cracked pavement. 

Hob zoomed in on that last, trying to discern a reflection in the puddle, trying to guess what Dream was doing with his hair these days by the shape of the shadow.  

It had been a month now that Dream had been off on his travels. He texted fairly often, and always responded when Hob texted him; they had even spoken twice. The first time had been four days after Dream set out, when Hob hadn't heard anything, and gave up on being cool and called.  

Dream had sounded mildly puzzled, but had been content to chat for twenty minutes. He had actually, haltingly, answered questions about what he was up to, what he'd seen, whether he was enjoying his adventure.  

Hob had managed to compress four days of quietly losing his mind worrying about him into saying toward the end, "Don't be a stranger, right? I mean--you're not my--not a stranger anymore, so--we can keep in touch."  

He'd nearly hung up then just to shut himself up, but Dream had said, "Yes, I see. I will."  

He seemed to have understood, even, because since then he hadn't gone more than twenty-four hours without texting Hob some random observation or sending a photo or just Good morning, Hob, usually at a time that was nowhere near morning where Hob was. 

Dream had even called, a week or so ago. It had taken Hob solidly ten minutes, in which Dream had scarcely paused for breath, to realize that despite speaking perfectly clearly, Dream was so utterly legless that he needed more absurd words for it. He was trolleyed. Gazeboed. Positively coat-hangered.  

"Your turn," Dream had said abruptly, still not slurring a bit but audibly loosened, so that Hob was suddenly sure that Dream was lying down, sprawled somewhere, collar undone, shirt perhaps riding up.  

Hob had been so entranced by that image--did Dream have a bit of an alcohol flush on, lighting up his pale cheeks?--that Dream had had to prompt him again to take his turn speaking. He had managed it just fine once he got going, happy as ever to have Dream listening to him.  

Dream had made a few encouraging noises, then gone quiet, until finally Hob heard a tiny, unmistakable snore. 

"OI!" Hob had shouted into the phone, and been rewarded with something that was almost certainly a snort and the clatter of a dropped phone.  

"Hob?" Dream had said, returning. 

"Drink some water, and lie down on your side to sleep," Hob had said firmly. "Your sister might not take you if you choke, but you don't want her to turn up and laugh at you, either."  

Dream had actually said, "Ugh, she would," before he hung up, and Hob had spent the rest of the day laughing to himself as those words echoed in his ears. 

He couldn't hear them now.  

It was something that had happened time and again. Each time he met with Dream, hanging on every one of the sparse words that dropped from his lips, he felt that he would have that voice etched on his memory, ringing in his ears, forever. For days after, he could hear Dream's words again, playing them over in his memory.  

But every time, before too long, he couldn't remember quite what those words sounded like. He might remember what the words were, but he couldn't hear them anymore. A few months on, he would forget the little quirks of Dream's expression. 

At some point, every time, he forgot Dream's face. 

He could remember what Dream looked like, generally: pale and black-haired, slim and tallish, dressed in black, obviously rich. But he couldn't bring Dream's actual face to mind, had to just wait out the century to see him again, to know him again. There you are. 

He'd already started forgetting after their belated meeting, when Dream turned up again, though Hob still hadn't known his name at that point. There had been a dream, first, and then his old stranger had just--turned up in a pub when Hob was out drinking, having his own miserable evening. He'd pulled out of it enough to realize that Dream was even worse off than he was, that Dream was on the precipice of something unimaginable, but nothing he said had changed any of that. 

And then he'd found himself attending Dream's bloody wake, which was how he'd learned who his oldest friend even was.  

He'd had about a week to try to resign himself to never having another reunion, never refreshing those fading memories ever again, no longer having even one person he could look forward to meeting again on the long road of his eternal life.  

And then Dream had turned up on his bloody doorstep: freshly human and tentatively immortal, as this new incarnation was technically his afterlife. 

Dream had been nearly as bewildered by it as Hob was, and had stayed with Hob for a fortnight. Learning to function in a human body had been undignified and frustrating, but Hob had done his best to smooth the way. He had accompanied Dream through his first experiences of human-sized emotions, which seemed to be something he had no idea how to handle, where had possessed at least a general theoretical understanding of the physically messy bits.  

After two weeks, though, he had seemed to be settling in, and Hob had let himself begin to think of what life might look like with his friend in it--and then Dream had announced that he needed more Life Experience and he was going off to find it. 

Hob knew he'd said it like that, the capital letters audible even though his new voice had lost some slight uncanny edge he'd always had before. He just couldn't hear it anymore, and he couldn't hear Dream's drunken rambling either. He scrolled down through the texts again, trying to hear how Dream would say the words, but he only caught an echo, the velvety depth of Dream's voice.  

It was late; he ought to stop fretting about this and sleep. There would be more texts from Dream tomorrow; sooner or later there would be another call, or Dream would turn up again. Everything was all right now; Dream was safe, and probably reasonably happy, out on his self-appointed quest to get the hang of being human. 

Hob just wanted to hear that from him. He just wanted to hear _anything_, so long as it was Dream. He hesitated another moment, but he had never been good at resisting temptation. He just had time to try to guess where Dream was--and therefore what time it was--before he hit the call button. 

It rang only twice before Dream picked up, sounding not just puzzled but properly disorientated, fuzzy with sleep. "'Lo? Hob? What's..." 

All the circling misery of the last few minutes lifted instantly. _There you are. That's you._ "Hi, love," Hob returned, falling back into his own bed. "I know it’s stupid, but I needed to hear your voice." 

There was a silence, but before Hob could take it back, or say something to give himself away even more, Dream said, "You could... do you think you'd like to--" 

"Yes," Hob said, sitting up again, feeling abruptly wide awake, ready for anything.  

"--Hear it more?" Dream finished.  

"Yes," Hob repeated, standing. "Yes, I--where--" 

"About five minutes," Dream said, which didn't make sense until he added, "it's a good thing you called, I didn't mean to doze off in the taxi." 

"Jet lag," Hob said, mouth running on autopilot as he looked frantically around his bedroom. It was in a bit of a state; he hadn't gotten properly settled into his own newest incarnation before Dream turned up, and in the last few days he'd been... more down than he'd realized until right now, when he wasn't anymore, at half two in the morning. "I keep telling you, you have to respect the circadian rhythm now you have one." 

"I have great respect for it," Dream said, sounding a little amused now. "Unfortunately--" he yawned, "international flight schedules do not, despite being entirely staffed by people who also need to sleep." 

"One of those mysteries we may never solve," Hob agreed. "Uh, your room's a bit--" 

"I will happily sleep on your kitchen floor at this point," Dream said, yawning again before he quite got all the words out. "Perhaps the stairs." 

"Well, we can do better than that, at least," Hob said, pulling on a pair of joggers and giving the covers a few quick tugs so the bed looked plausibly disheveled rather than like a place of insomniac torment. He dashed down the stairs to the front door, and threw back the locks, listening to Dream's quiet on the other side of the line. "Dream?" 

"Still here," Dream assured him, sounding a bit more alert now. "Just a few more blocks, I think." 

Hob leaned out the door, peering down his street, listening as if he would somehow know which car on another street was the one with Dream inside. "Are you..." Hob didn't even know how to finish the question, other than _here yet?_ which was a stupid one.  

"Yes," Dream said anyway, just as a car turned down Hob's street--a proper cab, not an Uber. Dream could be choosy about things like that. "I see you. I--I am very glad to see you." 

Hob raised and arm and waved, to be sure the cabbie would see him too, and cleared his throat before he could say, "Same to you, my friend." 

"Yes," Dream said dryly, even as the cab was pulling up, putting the rear door exactly level with the stairs to Hob's door. "I can see that." 

Hob glanced down at himself and realized that he was both shirtless and barefoot, and showing a wide strip of his pants on one side where he hadn't managed to pull the joggers all the way up. Hob sputtered, already starting to laugh at himself and unable to find a riposte; he looked up again and his breath stopped.  

Time stopped. 

Dream was on the pavement below him, straightening up out of the cab. He was looking straight at Hob, with just as much bright gladness in his face as the first time they'd seen each other again after their longest parting. 

Hob dropped his phone and darted down the stairs, colliding with Dream halfway and flinging his arms around him. He clung tight long after they were both steadied from the impact, pressing his face into Dream's messy hair. "Say something," Hob murmured, breathing in the not-too-recently-washed smell of him, soaking in the solidity of the angular body pressed up against his. 

"Your front door's closed behind you," Dream murmured. "And I think you've cracked the screen on your phone." 

"Bugger," Hob muttered, squeezing tighter; Dream's grip tightened in answer until Hob could feel his ribs creaking, and still neither of them showed any sign of letting go. "The door, I mean, that's a bother. The phone screen's been cracked for weeks." 

Dream gave a little _tsk_, pressed a kiss to the spot just before Hob's ear, and then let go all at once, sliding past him to retrieve his phone. Hob pressed his fingers to the spot where Dream's lips had pressed, and didn't manage to speak, or even think anything coherent, before Dream was straightening up again, phone in hand.  

"They can be replaced," Dream pointed out. "And you gave me a key before I left, so even the door is not such a great bother as that." 

"Yeah, I wasn't that worried," Hob said, fingers still pressed to the spot in front of his ear, staring at Dream, who was going just a bit pink. "Dream, you--" 

"You gave me a key," Dream repeated, making no move to get it out and unlock the door, still holding Hob's battered phone. "Before I left, you said. I could always. Come home." 

"Yeah," Hob said, and finally managed to drop his hand from his own face, reaching out with the same fingers to touch the brightening pink of Dream's cheek. "You always can, love. I always want to hear you, and I always want to see you." 

"I thought I--I thought perhaps--it might have been only..." Dream shook his head, giving up on putting it into words, but Hob didn't need him to spell it out; he'd worried himself that perhaps it was a problem that Dream only had him, only knew him. He'd known it was a good idea for Dream to go out into the world, even while he'd hated it. "But there is no one like you." 

"And no place like home?" Hob added lightly, because he couldn't not, even when he could see Dream's perfectly earnest expression, the steady dark intensity of his gaze.  

Dream snorted softly and put his hand over Hob's, pressing it to his cheek while he leaned in, closing the distance between them again.  

Hob started to tilt his head, ready to guide Dream into possibly his first kiss in a world where noses would not politely reshape themselves to stay out of the way, but Dream first pressed his forehead to Hob's, breathing deeply and saying nothing. Hob settled his other hand on Dream's cheek as well, keeping him close, breathing in for himself the reality of Dream here with him again, safe and sound and wanting to be here, of all the places in the world he might be exploring.  

"We should go inside," Dream murmured, and Hob just shivered at the secret sound of his voice before he made sense of the words.  

He tipped his head back to meet Dream's eyes, and found Dream smiling wryly. "I fear we may be carried away here on your front steps, otherwise." 

Hob dropped his hands to Dream's shoulders, where it was safe to grip as hard as he needed to while he let those words sink in, his whole body flashing hot at the possibilities. "Yeah. That's. Probably wise, yeah." 

Dream nodded, still smiling, and held up a familiar key. "Shall we?" 

Hob forced himself to drop his hands and turn to go back up the stairs. Dream followed him, close enough that Hob could almost feel him; when Hob turned the knob and realized that the door had in fact locked behind him, he had no time at all to be frustrated by it before Dream pressed up against his back, bringing his hands--and, crucially, his key--to join Hob's.  

"You gave me a key," Dream said, so close to Hob's ear that his lips brushed it, so deep and warm that Hob could drown in it. "You knew I would want to come home to you. And now here I am--" the key slid home, and Hob bit his lip to hold back a noise at that altogether unsubtle promise of things to come. "Coming home. To you. With you." 

Hob pushed the door open, but before stepping inside he asked, knowing it was ridiculous to hesitate, with Dream plastered up against him and hesitating anyway, "Will you tell me again tomorrow?" 

"I will tell you again every day," Dream said without hesitation. "Every time I come home to you, wherever that may be, it will always be you." 

"Right then," Hob said, and whirled in Dream's arms to kiss him as he stumbled back inside. Dream followed him, and didn't stop kissing him except to laugh when they staggered into a heap at the top of the inside stair. Hob tugged him back down into another kiss, and let Dream's voice echo in his ears a while longer.  

[goodgirlofglory]

Now that I know your requests are open, BE READY TO RECEIVE SOME TOE CURLING ASKS!!!

Like for example, I’m desperate for overstimulated Bucky 😩 like we all know Bucky can’t get enough of his girl, to the point where she’s gone dumb, but there’s something about tying up a big strong metal armed super soldier and making him cum over and over and over while he’s begging (he doesn’t know what he’s begging for, you to continue or stop like ✋)

Emphasis on the tying him up and sucking his soul out of his body, with your own body.

But you know, this was just a suggestion 🫶🫶keep up the great work!! 🌸🌸🌸🌸

Girl🥵

That is so fucking hot i can’t even, got me like😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫🫠🫠🫠✋️✋️✋️💦💦💦

Okay so I immediately sat down and started writing after reading this. Overstim is honestly one of my favorite things. Let's hope i did it justice🙏🙏🙏

Big boy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2,3k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral (f and m recieving), handjob, slightly severe overstimulation, messy creampie, messy, filthy fluids everywhere, bondage, slight d/s vibes(with sweet, subby, needy Bucky), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk

Summary: see the lovely prompt above💗

Note: the gif is cocky Bucky before he knew what he’d gotten himself into😏

“Keep your eyes on it,” you said, your voice drifting in through the cotton like muffle over Bucky’s hearing. He blinked the blur from his eyesight and heaved for breath, wave after wave of syrupy pleasure tinged with overexertion lining his lungs and loins like the finest lace. 

Looking down his body, covered in sweat and twitching sporadically, he watched helplessly as you bent forward, sliding your pussy slowly off his cock. It made an obscenely wet noise as it slapped back onto his stomach, adding more wetness to the drenched patch of hair below his navel. From your position astride his hips facing away from him, he had an unobstructed view of the utter mess between your legs, your red and swollen pussy gaping slightly below your puckered asshole, the sight sending off small fireworks off undiluted, heady arousal in Bucky’s head. 

You moaned softly and a moment later Bucky answered with a downright helpless mewl as his cum, pearly white and thick, began to drip out of your pussy. His whole body jolted, his cock jerking in a feeble attempt at rising. You knew what that exact sight did to him, how it chafed at some primal being inside him, how desperate it made him to pounce on you and pin you down, to cover you in his body and nuzzle your neck, to imprint himself on you and in you until he was ingrained in your very being. 

His arms jerked, but even his vibranium arm was powerless against the restraints you’d so cleverly acquired. He’d been so cocky when you’d asked to tie him up in the bedroom, all overinflated male pride and confidence in the fact that few bindings could keep his strength leashed. He’d grown hard in his pants and happily relaxed onto his back in your bed, head rested on the mountain of soft pillows. His arrogance had turned on a dime once you seemingly out of nowhere whipped out a pair of vibranium handcuffs and proceeded to fasten his wrists to bolts drilled into the very concrete of the wall behind the bed. Bucky had only realized his mistake once you’d secured his vibranium arm and leaned back with a grin filled with so much wicked glee he’d actually gulped. A few, increasingly earnest tugs on his bonds had solidified it. He was indeed completely at your mercy. Not helping at all, his cock had grown even harder at the realization. 

Now, god knew how many orgasms later, he could hear his blood pumping thick and slow in his ears, saturated with pleasure so intense and drawn out it sizzled in every nerve until the point of numbness, and watched helplessly as you elegantly turned around on the mattress and leaned forward between his legs, your eyes filled with mischief and a bratty confidence that had Bucky’s hands itching to spank your asscheeks raw. 

You blew soft, cold air on his swollen shaft and he shuddered at the sensation, more overworked than he’d ever been before. He didn’t know if his cock was still hard or just so swollen from all the stimulation it couldn’t shrink back to its normal, soft state. It seemed encased in a thick layer of rubber numbing it while simultaneously feeling so rubbed raw every nerve ending was exposed. He didn’t know if he wanted more or desperately needed reprieve. Okay, maybe that was a lie. You had insisted he choose a safeword before you started, and he hadn’t once considered saying it out loud, not even now.

A choking sound forced itself from him as you bent down to kiss his shaft, making it rise up to twitch against your lips as you peppered it with light, loving kisses. 

“P-please,” Bucky heard himself saying, wrists weakly tugging on his bonds. 

You looked up at him with sensual, low-lidded eyes, laying your cheek on his hip and letting a finger slowly trail up and down his sensitive cock. Bucky hissed and shuddered, his reactions wildly out of proportion to the things you were doing. But he couldn’t help it, he was so sensitive. 

“What are you begging so sweetly for, baby?” you asked. 

Bucky didn’t know, not really. His mind was a melting blurr of sensation and pleasure, and he just knew he needed you, though he couldn’t string together his thoughts to figure out in what way.

“I…I can’t,” he huffed out between great puffs of air as your finger continued to tease and tickle his overstimulated flesh. 

You tsked and pouted. 

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re tapping out already, big boy?” you asked in a sickly sweet, slightly condescending tone. You wrapped your hand around his aching cock and began jerking him, moving the foreskin up and down, the glide easy and wet by the copious amount of slick mixed with his cum still covering it from the way you’d ridden two orgasms out of him in one go. 

Bucky moaned, a long, drawn out, desperate thing as he watched your hand helplessly, so fucking hard and so fucking sensitive.

“I want you to give me one more,” you said, soft and slow, watching his face as your hand sped up. Bucky threw his head back and panted at the ceiling, One more? How many had he already given you? Four? Five? He didn’t even know he could cum so much consecutively, but surely he couldn’t come any more now?

Bucky groaned at the ceiling as his body warred between exhaustion and the tension you were slowly and meticulously building in him despite everything, how a tingling sensation began growing in his balls even as his purple, engorged cock-head throbbed in protest. 

Was he actually going to come again? He couldn’t believe it, but his body was tensing up, his breath coming out in puffs, the muscles in his thighs bulging. Yes, he could feel it, it was coming, it was within reach. 

“God,” he choked out, and you moaned in encouragement, kissing his hip as your hand sped up the tiniest bit. 

Bucky whipped his head down to look in disbelief as a splash of cum jettisoned out of his cock to add to the mess on his stomach, his body shuddering violently. 

“That’s it,” you breathed with delight, playfully biting his hip as you jerked him through the tiny orgasm, soothing him with your hands up and down his body as you kissed you way up his torso, taking a nipple into your mouth and suckling noisily. You’d both been surprised by how sensitive Bucky’s nipples were, and he still struggled to admit how fucking much he loved it when you played with them, the tingling going straight down to his groin. Bucky shuddered as you bullied the nipple with your tongue and teeth the exact way he used to do to you.

Bucky was still struggling to gather his frayed and scrambled thoughts while his body shivered in the aftershocks of his pleasure, and he heard himself make a sound suspiciously like a whimper as you straddled his waist and laid down on top of him. Bucky relished the heavenly intimacy of your skin on his, of your warmth covering him, and felt himself overwhelmed with emotion as you nuzzled his cheek and wrapped your arms around his neck. He tucked his face into the hollow of your throat, trying to get closer, desperately wanting to wrap his arms around your body. He made the weird whimpering sound again and didn’t even have enough presence of mind to be embarrassed by it. He wanted to kiss you so bad, he needed to feel the comfort and security of your lips. 

“P-please…kiss me,” he mumbled into the skin of your neck, eyes closing against the onslaught of churning pleasure of your body on his mingling with his body struggling to cope with the pleasure of his last orgasm. 

You pulled back and kissed him immediately, humming soothingly as he hungrily pushed your lips open with his to suck on your tongue. You kissed him again and again, pulling back far too soon and Bucky shamelessly whined in protest, stretching his neck towards you, mindlessly trying to reclaim your mouth. 

“You’re being so good, baby, it’s making me so wet,” you mumbled against his lips, and he shuddered and moaned against your mouth, helpless against the visceral reaction he had to you using dirty words. “Wanna see?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, and Bucky gasped in a mix of arousal and trepidation. Yes, he fucking wanted to see, he fucking loved your pussy, loved watching it, loved seeing it messy and sloppy wet. At the same time, he didn’t know if he could stand anymore now, he was too fucking sensitive, too overstimulated, his cock pulsing along with his pulse where it lay still swollen and spent against his stomach. 

You didn’t wait for him to answer and Bucky watched, breath speeding up, as you raised yourself up and scooted up to straddle his chest. He could feel the wetness between your legs smear against his abs and he downright growled in frustration. It was too much. He wanted to fucking ruin you. Pulling your knees up, you leaned back with one hand on his thigh and splayed yourself out for him, your pussy so close, and yet just out of reach. 

Bucky let out a huffing sound of desperation as he beheld your sopping wet cunt, seeing a tiny trail of his cum still leaking out of you, down over your asshole and pooling on his chest. God it was so fucking hot, and you knew how weak he was against a sight like that, how much he fucking loved to have sweat and cum and spit and slick covering you both. And he knew if he kept watching it, his cock would try and rise again, and he didn’t know if he could survive another attempt at orgasming.

“You see how swollen it is, baby?” you asked, reaching your free hand down and slowly tracing over your pussy lips, circling teasingly around your clit. Bucky licked his lips, imagining he could conjure your sweet, heady taste on his tongue, and nodded, not able to tear his gaze away from his very favorite thing on this earth. “It aches for you baby, it wants you to fuck it again,” you added, watching carefully as Bucky’s mind imploded a little. 

“Oh God, doll, I don’t…I can’t… I… please,” he moaned out between labored breaths, not even knowing what he was babbling about, but completely unable to tear his gaze away from your sweet cunt and the way it clenched as you kept toying with your own clit.

“You want to lick it, baby?” you asked. 

Oh god, yes he wanted it, but fuck, he knew his cock would get hard again if he did. Well, try at least. You knew it too. Wicked little minx, you were strumming him like a well-tuned fiddle. Still, Bucky nodded mindlessly, desperate for you. You cooed at him, dragging a hand through his hair lovingly and scooted closer to push your cunt into his face, and he moaned long and gratefully as you started to grind on his mouth. “Mmmm, just like that, that feels so good, baby,” you said as you undulated, his tongue flicking your clit the way he knew you liked, his mind buzzing with the fulfilling pleasure of eating you out, of giving you pleasure, of tasting the mix of his own taste with yours on his tongue like the most heady aphrodisiac. His cheeks were flush, feverish both from his exertion but now also from the way your praise made him feel all tingly, floating on a cloud. He felt high, drugged out of his mind on pleasure.

He was faintly aware he was continually moaning into your pussy, eyes half-closed and dazed as you got closer and closer to release, bucking your hips. A hand fisted on his hair and his moan turned to a growl. Yes, yes, yes, he kept chanting in his head as you came in his mouth, your cunt pulsing, drenching his chin in more of your juices. His cock throbbed with his sped-up heartbeat, rigid against his stomach as you came and came and came and all Bucky could think was yes, yes, yes…

Bucky was still buzzing away in a cloud of slowly drifting thoughts of you when he faintly registered your weight lifting off his chest, and then he was promptly brought back to reality when a hand wrapped around his cock. He cried out, blurry eyes looking down to see you between his legs again, holding his slightly hard cock in a gentle grasp. He whimpered openly this time as you lowered your mouth to gently lick the underside of his cock, tenderly but firmly coaxing his overworked cock back to rigid hardness. 

“I want one more,” you murmured against the head of his cock before the tip of your tongue gently swiped at his frenulum, and Bucky could only whine low in his throat, completely beyond words, body writhing on the mattress. “You’re so hard, daddy, feels like your cock wants to come again,” you murmured, rising up and gently straddling his hips, fitting his cock between your soggy pussy lips. Your hips started a slow grinding motion and Bucky’s breath started to come out in puffs. He sounded like an angry bull, for christ’s sake, and he melted down into the mattress, eyes glued to the way your cunt slid up and down his cock, teasing and overwhelming him at the same time. 

You raised your hips and placed the head of his cock at your entrance, and Bucky watched in trepidation mixed with helpless arousal as you slowly started sinking down on him. His eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth dropped open as his mind blanked out completely from the  pleasure

[kinardsevan]

Prompt: bucktommy entertaining each other while stuck in traffic.

“Give me something blue.”

Tommy almost glares at him. “Evan, that Bronco is teal.”

“Absolutely not,” Evan argues back, smirking at his boyfriend. They’re stuck in standstill traffic on the 210, just trying to get back to Tommy’s house after two long shifts, but an accident has them backed up from what should’ve been a ten minute drive to nearly half an hour in unmoving traffic.

“I mean I may or may not have been referring to something inside my pants,” he continues, turning to look out his window. “But since you’re so insistent, I spy with my little eye-“

Tommy hand claps down on his thigh. Evan turns his head back towards his boyfriend in the drivers seat as his face flushes, pink dusting across his features.

“We are in standstill traffic,” Tommy states gruffly. “Do not me make an exhibitionist out of you.”

Evan gives the hint of a smirk, but then nods. He reaches for Tommy’s phone on the center console as his boyfriend loosens his grip on his leg, though he doesn’t let go. He scrolls through the music for a beat before returning it to the dash, still just as bored.

After a time, he glances back at Tommy, and the older man looks back at him, feeling eyes on him.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head,” Tommy asks, stroking his thumb over Evan’s thigh.

“Just thinking about my favorite things about you,” Evan rasps, wrapping his hand around Tommy’s middle fingers on his leg.

Tommy flushes at the statement, a small smile pulling at his cheeks.

“Like what,” he asks timidly, curious.

“Like your hands,” Evan says as he looks down at the one he’s holding on his leg. “And how big they are. I’m not exactly small, but you make me feel like…” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “Like I’m worth protecting.”

“Evan,” Tommy lilts, his head dropping back against his headrest.

“Don’t read more into that,” Evan continues. “A-and also how, no matter what’s going on with everyone else, you always check in with me first. It’s been a long time, since someone took the time to ask.”

“That’s a basic right that you deserve,” Tommy reminds him, his thumb still moving absentmindedly on his leg. “You done?”

Evan shakes his head, smile still on his face.

“I love how tender you are with me in bed,” he admits quietly. “Even when I just want to be thrown around. You always make sure I’m taken care of, not just physically.”

Tommy’s hand clenches on his thigh again, but lets up after a few seconds.

“God damn, kid,” he mutters hoarsely. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Evan leans across the cab and kisses his jaw. Tommy leans into it, turning his head after a few seconds and kissing him as he lifts their intertwined hands, still manages to curl his fingers under Evan’s chin, keeping him close.

“My turn?” He asks when Evan finally pulls away, settles back in his seat and pulling Tommy’s hand along with him.

“If you must.”

Tommy squeezes his leg again, though this time in a show of reassurance as Evan leans back against his headrest.

“I also love your hands,” Tommy tells him. “Although for far different reasons.”

Evan blushes again, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“In all seriousness, the way you create things blows my mind,” Tommy tells him. “Food, crafts, the things you build. It’s fascinating to watch.”

Evan nods at the words. Tommy is never stingy with praise over anything he makes, whether it’s food, something for their living spaces, or something he went down a hyperfixation on.

“And your brain,” Tommy adds. “Your need to understand everything and seek out knowledge, and the way that has correlated to our obsession with Jeopardy.”

Evan smirks at that, adds. “I still miss Alex.”

Tommy nods. “And your willingness to completely throw yourself in. Doing in a few weeks what took me years.”

“Wanted you more,” Evan murmurs at him.

“That’s not lost on me,” Tommy replies. “God, Evan, your willingness to love people regardless and in spite of. Damn near unconditionally. I do feel protective of you, and maybe a little selfishly so, because when you give, you give your entire heart. I was jealous of that when I first realized it,” he exclaims. “Until I realized you were giving it to me.”

Evan gulps at Tommy’s words, the depth of love that he’s speaking to in the moment. It’s not that he doesn’t know it; he’s more than aware of how deep their connection is, feels it twenty-four seven. Still, hearing it out loud floods him with the kind of emotion he doesn’t know how to put into words.

“That’s my absolute favorite thing about you,” Tommy finishes. Evan just stares at him, eyes clear and filled with passion and adoration.

“I love you.” He states it simply, no intonation in his voice. It’s not the first time; they’ve been saying it for a while now. But it means more than that this time; like he’s not just saying the words, telling Tommy he loves him as he is. Like this time, he’s telling him he’s in love with him, and every tiny piece of what makes their relationship quintessentially them.

“I love you too,” Tommy says back, same tone, same intentions. Evan starts to lean across the cab again, but a horn honks behind them, causing them both to look up. Traffic has started to inch forward. Evan drops back into the passenger seat and Tommy chuckles softly, pulling Evan’s hand to his lips as they start moving again.

[glorious-spoon]

finding excuses to be alone with each other - Buddie

hi, and thank you! sorry this has taken a while, and also i have no explanation for why i decided to write new year's eve fic in june. BUT: here you are!

a stolen moment

1200 words | buddie | developing relationship | secret relationship | kissing | fluff

-

There are too many people at this party.

Normally, this isn't something Buck would even think to complain about. Maddie and Chim are hosting, since Bobby and Athena are still living out of a tiny one-bedroom while work continues on their house, and Hen and Karen are still trying to get Mara settled back at home—New Year's parties are apparently not conducive to a quiet, predictable bedtime routine, and the Wilson family unit will probably be heading out well before the ball drops anyway—and nobody else has even close to enough room. It's still packed to the brim, overflowing onto the back patio, clusters of people chatting over drinks in the kitchen while the kids have taken over the living room TV for a vicious Mario Kart showdown that Chris is currently winning. Maddie's in the back bedroom putting Jee down for bedtime, and Chim is holding court over the dessert table, and it's all—great, honestly, it's great. It's awesome, having his family here, and happy, and together under the same roof after the year they've all had.

He glances up and meets Eddie's eye from across the dining room. Gets a quick smile in return. Eddie's cheeks are pink, maybe from the warmth, maybe from the two glasses of wine he's had, since Buck will be the one driving them home. He's wearing a green Henley that Buck knows is exactly as soft as it looks and worn-in jeans that mold lovingly to the lines of his thighs as he leans back against the door frame, and it's all pretty distressing, honestly. Buck's hands are itching to touch.

When he meets Eddie's eyes again, Eddie is grinning broadly. Caught, Buck ducks his head. He's blushing, he knows, and he doesn't have the excuse of the wine.

They're keeping it to themselves, at least for now. That was the decision they both made after Eddie kissed him in the loft two nights ago, after Buck kissed him back, after they didn't actually manage to make it all the way up to the bed and ended up on the couch instead, gasping into each other's mouths, fumbling and eager as teenagers. They're keeping it to themselves until Eddie figures out how he's going to tell Chris. He's skittish about that still, and Buck isn't going to push. So he'll probably be sleeping on the fold-out couch tonight instead of in Eddie's bed, and he's not going to kiss Eddie in the middle of the party, no matter how much he wants to.

It's okay. They have time.

"Hey, didn't someone bring dessert plates?" Chim calls from the kitchen. "Please tell me someone brought dessert plates, we're all out of the big ones and I'm really not up for doing dishes tonight."

Ah, shit. Right. That was Buck's job. He's pretty sure he did pick some up, actually, but they're probably still out in the Jeep, which is parked somewhere in the snarl of cars crowding the Han driveway and pulled off to the side of the street in front of their lawn.

"I got 'em," he calls, setting his soda down.

"My hero," Chim retorts, only half-teasing by his tone. Buck rolls his eyes and goes to find his shoes.

He doesn't realize that Eddie is following him until he's already slipped them on in the entry hall, a few steps away from the party. "What's up?"

Eddie shrugs, guileless, and crouches down to retrieve his shoes as well. "Figured I'd help you."

"You figured you'd help me…. bring in a package of paper plates?"

"Yeah," Eddie says innocently, but there's a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and god, Buck really wants to kiss him.

"Okay," he agrees instead, and pulls open the door. Eddie follows him out into the night, cool and dim even with Christmas lights still lit up all down the street. There's a dampness to the air that feels like rain; it's not that cold, but it's enough of a contrast to the warm house that a shiver goes through him. Eddie falls into step beside him, then reaches for his hand.

Buck shivers again, for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold this time. Eddie's hand is warm and broad, and he strokes his thumb lightly against Buck's, lighting up nerve endings he didn't even know he had.

It's such a small thing. But they've never actually done this yet. It all feels so new, sparkling like fireworks through his veins.

"Okay?" Eddie asks, and Buck realizes that he's stopped walking. 

"Yeah," he says. He's not doing a very good job of keeping the smile off his face, or out of his voice, but Eddie's got the exact same dopey smile on his face, so it's fine. They weave through the cars to where Buck's Jeep is parked, close enough to the street that they'll probably be able to get out without playing vehicle Tetris. Far enough from the house that they're shielded from view by Bobby's truck parked alongside them, so he's not all that surprised when Eddie lets go of his hand only to push him gently against the side of the Jeep and kiss him.

He gets lost in that for a little bit. The heat of Eddie's mouth, his hands moving from Buck's shoulders to cradle his jaw—he did that the first time, too. Held Buck like he's holding him now, like he's something precious and worth treating with care, and Buck's already hooked on it. He slides his hand up Eddie's back, feeling the warmth of him, to cup the back of his neck as Eddie licks into his mouth with leisurely sweetness, like he's got all the time in the world to kiss Buck just like this on the sidewalk on New Year's Eve.

Sooner or later, someone's going to come looking for them. It still takes a while for Buck to break the kiss, and when Eddie tugs lightly at his lower lip with his teeth before pulling away, he almost dives back in again. Almost.

"We should probably get back to the party," he says, very reluctantly.

"Yeah," Eddie sighs. He leans in and kisses Buck again, a sweeter, softer thing before leaning past him to open the door. Buck ducks into the back seat to retrieve the package of plates and the bottle of wine they forgot to bring in earlier, and when he straightens up, Eddie is watching him. He looks—hesitant, almost. Nervous. He looks the way he looked two days ago, right before he kissed Buck.

"What's up?" Buck asks.

"I want to tell Chris," Eddie says, all in a rush. "Maybe not—right now, at the party, but when we get home, I want to tell him. About us."

Buck takes a quick, sharp breath. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been as sure about anything in my life as I am about you."

"Eddie."

"It's the truth. And—I want him to know. Even if it's an adjustment, even if it takes some time to—I want him to know. I want everyone to know. If that's okay with you."

"Eddie," Buck says again, and then, "yeah, yeah of course it's okay."

"Good," Eddie says, with a sudden, brilliant smile. And well—Chim can wait a few more minutes for his paper plates. Buck sets them down and pulls Eddie back in.

[starsfic]

(lmk AU where mk is the fourth ring of the samadhi fire instead of mei)

Prompt: mk screams his sorrow and anger out in a ball of flames, the gang watches in horror while macaque and nezha tries to escort them out from the horrible situation, it ends with wukong being the one to run through the fire, reaching out to mk

“You… lied.” lmk prompt where mk is fourth ring of samadhi fire instead of mei, and the monkie kid screams at his mentor out of rage

“You… lied.”

The accusation slams into Wukong hard, reaching deep into him to hit where it hurts. For a moment, he's just a student again, kneeling in front of his master. Except, unlike Subodhi who is reasonable even when angry, there's no way to stem the anger.

It's justified anger, to boot.

"Did you know?!" Xiaotian sobs-screams, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Were you going to hurt me?!"

"No!" Wukong protests at once. "Kid, I swear, I had no idea I transferred that to you!" His chest no longer aches and burns. "I thought I still had the ring in me!"

Nezha gasps the same moment Pigsy and Macaque say "What?!"

Xiaotian blinks. His eyes are hard to make out in the flames, but Wukong can imagine them, big and brown and hurt. "So..." The flames die down just a bit.

Just a bit.

Wukong makes the mistake of relaxing.

"YOU WERE GOING TO HURT YOURSELF?!"

[sleep-escapes-me]

didn't know they were dating

Imogen x Laudna

word count: 2569

a modern au told through the eyes of convenience store employee, Cynthia, and the observations she makes while working

read the full version on ao3

//

“Are you able to work independently in a fast-paced environment?”

“Yes, sir. At my previous job, my boss was impressed with how—,”

“You’re hired.”

The evening shift is Cynthia’s new home. She’s grateful for the opportunity at something different but more so for the money. Having hobbies is expensive and horses are expensive. So when your hobby is horses…well.

And school of course. Money for school.

“Welcome to Faramore’s!”

The cheery disposition is easy enough to muster. And once her manager stops randomly showing up during her shifts after the first week, Cynthia realizes the pep isn’t necessary. At least not with the crowd of customers she’s slowly getting used to.

It's a nice job for the pay. The shop she works at is located in a sleepy neighborhood on the city's outskirts so it rarely gets busy. Every night so far has been peaceful. Giving Cynthia plenty of time to finish any homework and people-watch.

She comes to recognize the regulars fairly quickly and learns all their names only because she’s nosy and the receipt is right there.

There's the blue-haired guy with the nice smile, Dorian, who more often than not has a guitar strapped to his back. He usually shows up with his boyfriend, seemingly always coming from a workout at the gym, Orym. His eyes are incredibly discerning if not a little unsettling. He stares at her like he knows all her secrets. But they’re always very polite and ask how she’s holding up in the late hour. Cynthia likes them.

Protein bar Lip balm Ready-to-bake pie crust $15.99

There's the incredibly tall gorgeous woman, Fearne, who always smells like a garden of wildflowers when she walks in. Cynthia’s been scared to ask what perfume she wears after an incident where she caught the woman attempting to steal. Maybe Cynthia is just naive but she thought being caught once would deter further attempts…but that strangely wasn’t the case. She's had to let it go altogether because she just gets so flustered. One playful wink from the woman has Cynthia forgetting all about the incident to the point that she makes an effort to make sure her manager never finds out about the missing stock.

Novelty monkey lighter Cinnamon gum 3 tubes of lipstick Pack of ribbons Costume jewelry Various postcards $0

Then there’s the punk-looking one with the spikey purple hair, Ashton, who always shows up exactly at 1 AM every other night. Cynthia was weary of him at first but then he gave her some really great unsolicited advice on how to not get swindled when negotiating with flaky people. After that night he started tipping her a single dollar and imparting arbitrary wisdom. Cynthia hasn’t yet figured out if it’s some kind of prank…

Two cases of beer Travel sewing kit Toothbrush $20.06

Probably the loudest customers are the two old men who have the strangest conversations every time they enter the store. Cynthia desperately wishes to get in on whatever strange schemes the hairier one, Chetney, seems to always be involved in. Half of them can’t be true but his imagination excites her regardless. The other one rides in on a bright yellow scooter half the time and always wishes Cynthia a smiley day without fail no matter the time of day. He never brings any money or pays for anything so Cynthia doesn’t know his name aside from the obvious nickname, Letters, that she hears thrown around by Chetney. The lack of money always starts an argument between the two old men that she has to awkwardly stand and listen to. She learns new curse words all the time from them.

Wood finisher Scented body oil $18.12 Chamomile tea Cigarettes $12.87

And her favorite; the girlfriends. Or at least that’s what Cynthia assumes they are. It’s hard to tell.

The spooky-looking one, Laudna, tries to make small talk while at the register. Cynthia isn’t shy by any means but it’s sometimes hard to keep up with the odd topics of conversation. Soon enough Cynthia’s learning about her pet rat who’s so old he should be dead and how he’s always jumping off high places attempting to fly. Cynthia nods politely and keeps her opinions to herself.

Mixed seeds Red yarn Super glue $15.26

The other woman Laudna is always with, Imogen, is a bit more demure—or maybe guarded is more apt. Her eyes never leave Laudna and seems content to listen to her prattle on as they shop. She rarely buys anything. It’s usually at the behest of Laudna reminding her of some arbitrary thought.

Pencils Hand lotion $11.07

//

Imogen comes in alone for the first time since Cynthia started working. There's a nervous titter of energy around her as she runs up and down each aisle like a bat out of hell. Cynthia debates if she should ask if she needs any help before Imogen rushes to the register.

“This all for you today?” Cynthia asks habitually.

Imogen nods with a quiet sigh. “Hopefully.”

Box cake mix Candles Black sprinkles Oven mitts $14.47

Once she’s left, Cynthia muses over how sweet their relationship must be for Imogen to want to bake a cake for her girlfriend. She herself is an abysmal baker so it makes her yearn for a relationship in the future that’s just as thoughtful. She imagines Laudna walking through their front door, the house smelling of freshly baked goods. Imogen walks out of a side room with the cake decorated, candles lit, and a big smile on her face…

She speaks too soon when Imogen comes back in a little over an hour in a visibly sour mood, black crumbs stuck to her shirt.

Box cake mix Frosting $3.69

Cynthia can’t help herself as Imogen sullenly reaches for her purchase. The words tumble out of her mouth. “Havin’ trouble?”

Imogen startles at the sudden question and Cynthia holds back a grimace. She awkwardly gestures to the items she just bagged.

“Using milk instead of water makes a better box cake. More fat is supposed to improve it or something. At least that’s what my mama always says.”

Imogen frowns and checks over her shoulder toward the fridge section. She looks back at Cynthia for a solid two-count and nods.

Milk Energy drink $4.25

Imogen smiles warmly at her, taking her groceries. “Thanks.”

Cynthia beams. “Of course. Hope it turns out well.”

Imogen doesn’t show up for the rest of the night.

//

Laudna shows up alone one day in a tizzy and Cynthia instantly recognizes something is wrong. It tests her resilience as an impartial convenience store employee to not get involved in customers' business…but Laudna’s frazzled appearance and her very loud speaking over the phone at least paints Cynthia a vague picture.

“Okay, darling, I’ve just arrived. I’m walking to the medicine aisle. Ooh, those snacks Pâté likes are on sale—right, sorry. I am in the medicine aisle. Which one is it?” She pauses. “There’s a yellow label and a blue label.” Another pause. “Are you sure? The yellow label says extra strength.” Pause. “Well, I don’t care if it’s extra money! This is your health! I’m not yelling! Oh, nope. I am. Sorry, sorry. Hold on. I’m grabbing the yellow label.”

Cynthia watches Laudna do that in two more aisles.

“Okay, darling, I’m heading to the register. I’m hanging up. I have to pay.” She frowns. “I'm telling you so you don’t worry.” She looks at the phone then at Cynthia. “She hung up.”

Cynthia bites the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. “Find everything okay?”

“Oh, I hope so.” Laudna’s shoulders droop. “I get so flustered in a crisis that sometimes I forget my own name. Isn’t that just silly? I’m lucky Imogen is always so collected.” She chuckles lightly while nervously pulling at the ends of her hair.

“It’s not silly when you’re worried about someone.”

“You’re so sweet.” Laudna's eyes crinkle with a smile. “You know, I see you working whenever I come in. No matter the time. Do you always work this shift?”

“For the time being, yes.”

“You’re so young,” she muses.

Cynthia hands over the bag to Laudna. “Well, I hope everything is all right with your girlfriend.”

Laudna’s face slowly drops as she processes Cynthia’s words. “Excuse me?”

She scrambles. “Nothing. Nevermind. Here’s your change. Have a good evening.”

Laudna stares at her for a long moment before reaching for her money. Then trails out of the store in a mumbling daze.

Scar cream Pain meds Bandage wrap $25.73

Cynthia resists the urge to run in the back room. Was she wrong? Were they even dating? Were they already married? She’s never seen a ring on Imogen. Or has she? Laudna…definitely had one, right? The shine of a sparkling red ruby ring enters her mind. Fiancé?

//

Imogen enters the store alone the next night but seems perfectly normal when interacting with Cynthia. She even tells her to have a good night as she leaves.

A bag of chips Two energy drinks $6.86

It isn't until Laudna is back again at the end of the week when the fruits of her fuck up unravel. She doesn't enter with Imogen. Instead with someone Cynthia is shocked to see such a sweet woman like Laudna in cahoots with. The thief!

Cynthia watches the pair peruse the aisles aimlessly until

“Fearne!” The yell comes from the back of the shop. Laudna’s arms can be seen flailing over the tops of the shelves. Cynthia strains to listen.

“It’s all right,” Fearne says. “She doesn’t mind.”

Laudna stutters. “You still shouldn’t steal from such a sweet girl. That could be grounds for termination.”

Fearne hums. “She hasn’t been fired yet.”

Finally, the two of them make their way to the front. Fearne pivots toward the door with a familiar flirty wink before Laudna grabs her arm.

“Where are you going?” she admonishes. “We still have to pay.”

“Oh. Oops,” Fearne giggles. “Silly me. It just slipped my mind.”

Cynthia is mostly sure Fearne didn’t forget.

Laudna's eyes don’t quite look at Cynthia as they approach. Fearne seemingly takes notice and saunters up to the register.

“You must see Laudna here a lot, right?”

Cynthia feels her mouth go dry. She realizes she’s never heard Fearne’s voice this close because the other woman never comes to the register. It somehow even further adores her to the enigmatic woman. Cynthia slowly nods. “Sometimes.”

She leans across the counter. Her eyes twinkle with a mischievous sparkle. “So…are you the one who called Imogen her girlfriend?”

“Fearne! Okay!” She pushes her friend aside and drops a bill down on the counter in a fluster. “That's enough of that. I think we’re done here. Yes. Thank you so much, young lady! You have a lovely evening!”

Cynthia forgets to ring them up.

//

At this point, it’s been several weeks since seeing Imogen and Laudna enter the store together. Cynthia is so on edge thinking about the two women's situation that it’s starting to affect her sleep schedule.

The curiosity eats away at her until the next time Imogen walks in. The gentle ding from the door’s bell erupts like a blaring alarm for Cynthia. Her focus zeros in on the unsuspecting woman and tracks her around the store like a hawk. The next time she passes by the front, the word vomit hurls from Cynthia’s lips when it’s simply too much to hold back.

“Did you break up?” She blurts out instead of her usual script.

Imogen’s eyebrows furrow. “Huh?”

“Your girlfriend—uhh, or maybe fiancé?” She says it like a question and Imogen stares at her like she’s grown two heads. “Laud—the one woman you’re always here with. The spooky one?” Silence. She should really shut up. “Aren’t you together?”

The other woman goes deathly still. “No…”

Oh.

Cynthia feels the embarrassing red-hot heat flooding her cheeks. “Sorry. I thought you were. It was wrong of me to assume.”

A muscle in Imogen’s cheek tightens. Her mouth opens and closes several times before she asks, “Why would you think we were together?” Her voice is stony. “Did she say somethin’?”

“What?” She doesn’t sound accusatory or angry so Cynthia is confident she hasn’t completely insulted this woman. The word vomit continues. “No. It’s not that. I mean I did mention to her that you were her girlfriend and she never really denied it. I thought—I honestly didn’t think you were dating at first. But after a while it was hard to ignore when the two of you seemed so…” She trails off when noticing how pale Imogen has gotten.

“So?”

“In love?” Cynthia finishes lamely. Her cheeks burn with mortification.

She makes a noise somewhere between an acknowledgment and a whimper.

It’s all Cynthia gets before she turns and makes a beeline toward the back. She stands in front of the liquor aisle for an exorbitant amount of time. Cynthia has half a mind to ask if she’s all right but cowardice of saying the wrong thing again stops her. Finally, she makes a selection and Cynthia has to struggle to not cringe as she rings her up. No pleasantries are exchanged.

Box wine $8.99

She comes in the next day.

Cynthia wants to crawl into a hole.

Box wine Tissues Pain meds $14.68

And the next.

Cynthia considers quitting just to stave off the unparalleled embarrassment and shame coursing through her.

Two bottles of wine Decongestant Pint of ice cream Effervescent tablets $36.87

She never sees her again.

Mainly because Cynthia quits her job at Faramore's soon after. She’s accepted into an apprenticeship across town and can’t justify the commute anymore.

She doesn’t tell her regulars because that seems like a silly thing to do. It’s not like she talks to any of them or knows them beyond the stories she makes up in her head by their brief interactions. It’s strange when she realizes she will miss them. There’s a melancholic kind of insight she garners—missing someone you don’t really know.

Months later Cynthia finds herself in the neighborhood after an event takes her back across town. The curiosity hits her a bit too hard and soon enough she finds herself back at her old store. It’s like walking into a time capsule. She doesn’t feel any claim to the shop as it’s one of many and she’s gone to others in the franchise but it still feels strangely familiar as the bell dings when she enters.

The guy at the register is more apathetic than she cares to comment on. He rings up her items without so much as a greeting.

Gummy bears Bottle of water $4.33

On her way out, the door whooshes open and the bell dings softly. As if in slow motion, in walks Laudna, a big smile on her face, arm around a giggling Imogen’s shoulders, whose own arm is securely wrapped around Laudna’s waist. Laudna leans her head down to kiss the top of Imogen’s head. Then Imogen smoothly turns her face upward and they share a chaste kiss without breaking their stride. They don’t notice Cynthia walk past them.

Maybe Cynthia sheds a single tear later that night when she thinks about them or maybe it's just this very emotional movie she’s watching about a horse that defies all the odds in the end.

[pineapplepluto]

Iris's Butterfly

“Bu-fly!” Iris reaching for it with her tiny hand Pointing then grabbing Karen gently tells her look don’t touch Remembers butterfly collecting in high school She keeps her collection locked away in a drawer She knows Iris would love the pretty colours and patterns But she’s not ready to answer the question of why the butterflies at home don’t move When the ones at the park do So she keeps her collection locked away In a drawer in the closet where she keeps her gun safe Another thing she’s not ready to explain

(Based on the prompt of Karen taking Iris to the park from @arrowheadedbitch)

[whimsicalmeerkat]

solitude - teen wolf

On AO3

“Why do I always find you brooding in your Fortress of Solitude? You should get some hobbies.”

Stiles is panting, like he ran through the woods to get to Derek’s house.

“What’s wrong?”

Stiles looks offended.

“Why would you think anything is wrong! Can’t a man visit his alpha to say hi?”

“Stiles.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see your handsome face,” Stiles snaps, then turns beet red, like he didn’t mean to say that.

“What’s. Wrong.”

Stiles sighs. “Truth spell.”

“Fucking witches.”

Derek grabs his jacket. He’s going to wait until later to think about Stiles calling him handsome.

[five-rivers]

I like the idea that, whenever a ghost has emotionally adopted a young ghost, their lair makes room, sometimes a literal bedroom, for them. So even Clockwork can't predict what's behind the mysterious galaxy door that appeared in his tower.

There was a door in Long Now that Clockwork had never opened. It was a recent addition to the ancient tower, only created in the last year or so.

Clockwork was widely regarded as the closest thing the Infinite Realms had to omniscient. Closer to all-seeing than even the Observants. The ultimate know it all.

He did not know what was behind that door. He didn't look.

That is to say, he knew, generally, why the door was there, what it represented, and what was probably behind it, but he had chosen not to look into any specifics. It would be better, he thought, for the one who the door was meant for to open it.

Although… All things considered, it was likely that Clockwork wouldn't be able to see what lay behind the door even if he "cheated." Lairs were strange like that, and so was Daniel.

Now… if only he could actually bring himself to have that conversation with Daniel. Unfortunately, neither of them were terribly communicative about such things, and Daniel had what might be termed baggage regarding familial relationships.

.

"Daniel," said Clockwork.

"Mm?" said Danny. He'd been sleepily watching Clockwork make minor adjustments to the timestream via one of the larger viewing screens. "What?"

"You are practically falling asleep floating," he said, not unkindly. "Would like to go to bed?"

"I don't want to go home," said Danny, a great deal more bluntly than he normally would.

Clockwork hummed and paused the viewing screen. "Let me show you something."

"Okay."

They went across into the main hall, then flew up a spiraling stair. Just past the stairs was a strange door, one that just didn't fit with the rest of Long Now.

The door was a deep, almost black, purple, which wasn’t so strange in the Ghost Zone, but the style was surprisingly modern, and it was painted with hundreds of almost-white spots that swirled together to make a galaxy.

"What is it?" asked Danny.

"A place for you, whenever you should need it."

"For me?"

"And only for you."

Danny reached out and opened the door.

[celestialwrites]

last word(s) prompts + dialogue ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

@celestialwrites more!

♡ “never forget…”

♡ “what if i did love you?”

♡ “so this is it?”

♡ tears rolling down their cheek as they put their hand in character B’s.

♡ “stop it! hold on!” “let me go.”

♡ character pretending they’re not injured before they drop to the ground.

♡ “tell (character)…that i hate them.”

♡ “it’s my time.” “no, it never was!”

♡ “it hurts.”

♡ character A’s hand shaking as they close their eyes one last time.

♡ “i don’t want to go.”

♡ “i’m not done here yet.”

♡ "remember when you said life was too short not to tell the people you care about how you feel? well, i can't stand you."

♡ “thank you.”

♡ character A speaks as they look into B’s eyes, “your eyes are more (colour) than i thought.”

♡ “marry me?” “what?” “if i am going to die, i want to be married to you.”

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

[phdmama]

Hey lovely, how about 43 from the smut dialogue list if you’re still looking for inspo - and maybe buddie as the ship? (I may have started reading a few fics and it might be about to become a problem…) but any ship that takes your fancy if you’re prefer!

Hello my dear pal!! I am so so excited you're reading some Buddie!! xox

I am so sorry this took this long to write (I've had some real rollercoaster ups and downs over the past few days with this silly broken leg bullshit). So anyway - here is where my brain went! (Keep in mind, I am lots of painkillers and have barely written in months!)

43. “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

Show My Mouth (Your Favorite Places)

Buddie, ~2300 words, Explicit tags: getting together, first time, Eddie Diaz has yet another close call, gratuitous use of italics, only lightly beta'd by me, set somewhere vaguely post season 7ish?

They’re barely through the door of Buck’s loft and Buck immediately has Eddie backed up against it, reaching out to run a hand over Eddie’s chest.

“I’m fine, Buck,” Eddie says again, and yeah, okay, it’s probably the tenth time he’s repeated the words but that was too close a call, and Buck says as much as Eddie tips his head back against the door, his eyes closed.

“Take your shirt off,” Buck says, reaching for the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. It’s dirty and torn and Eddie doesn’t protest, doesn’t even open his eyes, just lifts his arms and lets Buck pull the rough fabric over his head.

“If you wanted to get me out of my clothes, all you had to do was ask,” Eddie says and Buck freezes.

“I just. I need to see you’re okay,” he says finally, and Eddie just smiles. 

“Help yourself. I told you, the thing barely grazed me.”

Buck doesn’t answer, just flips on the light and runs his hands lightly over Eddie’s chest. There are some scrapes, a few spots that will probably bruise, but Buck has to admit Eddie is probably right, the damage is superficial. Buck doesn’t really pay attention to what his hands are doing, caught in the memory of the way the tree had come down and for one, brief, terrifying moment he’d thought… He’d thought. That’s all.

He’s still thinking, lost in it when Eddie says, his voice rough, “Buck.”

“What?” Buck startles back to the moment and realizes he’s been, well. 

He’s been gently stroking Eddie’s bare chest, and Eddie’s eyes are open now, dark and intense, fixed on Buck’s face. His skin is slightly goosebumped and his nipples are tight buds on his broad chest. Buck rips his gaze away and swallows, his throat dry.

He’s worked so hard to just be chill, is the thing. After he and Tommy broke up (no real drama, just Tommy gently letting him down), Buck has been so, well. Aware of men, is the thing. Men in general and one man in particular. Buck knows he’s been weird about Eddie from the very beginning, and he knows Eddie is just as weird about him, and there have been moments where he’s thought… maybe… but he’s never been sure. Never seen a look on Eddie’s face like the one currently leveled at him.

“Are you, um. Are you cold?” he whispers and Eddie’s mouth curves.

“Not even a bit,” Eddie says, and his voice is so low and gravelly, it legitimately sends a shiver down Buck’s spine.

“Are you in pain?”

Eddie just shakes his head, not breaking his gaze. 

“I, just.” Buck’s heart is pounding. It feels like an avalanche in his chest, and under his hands, he can feel Eddie’s heart racing, just as fast. “Eddie,” Buck says, his voice pleading, although he doesn’t even know what it is he’s asking for. 

Eddie knows though, the way Eddie always knows.

Eddie simply replies, “Buck,” and then lays one hand over one of Buck’s where it’s still resting on his bare skin. 

For one brief, agonizing moment, Buck worries that Eddie is pushing his hand away, but it immediately becomes clear that's not what’s happening. Eddie is not pushing Buck’s hand away, he’s pushing it down. Eddie slides Buck’s hand down over his own toned abdomen, slowly enough that Buck can feel the expansion as Eddie takes a deep breath, and then, oh god. Then he shifts Buck’s hand even lower to where he’s hard in his LAFD sweats.

Buck stares at him as Eddie presses his hand to the hard length of him under the rough cotton. “Eddie,” he whispers.

“I’m not cold,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m not in pain. I don’t need you to fuss over me.”

“Then what,” Buck swallows. “What do you need?”

Eddie just grins, and he lifts the hand that’s not pressing Buck’s against his cock to curve it around Buck’s face. 

“I think you know,” is all he says and Buck breaks.

He surges forward, tightening his fingers around the hard shaft under his hand as he pushes forward, his mouth landing on Eddie’s. Buck is frantic, gasping as he lets himself go, lets himself take what he’s been longing for for so long. He’s afraid that this might be his only chance, that if he takes his time, Eddie will change his mind.

But Eddie doesn’t seem inclined that way. He meets Buck in the middle, strength for strength, passion for passion, kiss for kiss, until he begins to gentle things between them. 

Eddie pulls back, and whispers, “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

He leans back in and this time he sets the pace with deep, slow kisses, syrupy-sweet, until Buck thinks his knees might genuinely give out.

“Buck,” Eddie whispers and shifts, letting his mouth move over Buck’s face to his neck, a quick nip to the sensitive skin behind Buck’s ear that has Buck groaning and shaking. “Buck, baby. Let me take you to bed.”

“Too far,” Buck mumbles, turning his head to catch Eddie’s lips with his own. “Can’t wait.”

“Couch then,” Eddie insists and doesn’t stop kissing Buck, just gently herds him backwards through the apartment until Buck’s dropping onto his couch and pulling Eddie down with him.

For several moments, Buck doesn’t think about anything at all except the feel of Eddie’s chest against his own, the taste of Eddie’s mouth, Eddie’s hand in his hair as they kiss. He finally has to pull back to take a deep gasping breath, and just stares at Eddie over him.

“Is this… is this really happening?” Buck finds himself asking and Eddie grins, drops a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

“It is if you want it to be.”

Buck just blinks at him. “I didn’t know. How did I not know you wanted this?”

Eddie shrugs, shifts his weight off of Buck so he can pull Buck up to sitting. “Let’s just say… when you started dating Tommy, I figured a few things out.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Of course not, Buck. You and Tommy, well. You were happy. Having fun. I didn’t think this was possible, but then when you guys broke up, and we were back to hanging out all the time. I started to think that maybe…” his voice trails off as he hooks his fingers under the hem of Buck’s t-shirt and starts to remove it. 

Buck automatically lifts his arms. “Have you ever… with a guy?”

Eddie just smiles, shakes his head. “Never let myself even think about it when I was young, and then. I guess it was just never the right time. Until now.” He lifts his hand, brushes his knuckles across Buck’s cheekbone, skates his hand down to curl it around Buck’s jaw. “I want to, though. With you, if you want that.”

Buck stares at him. “If I want that? Eddie. Of course I want that. I just. What does it mean?”

Eddie leans in, kisses him once and then again. He feels so good that Buck can’t help but groan as Eddie’s mouth moves to his collar bones as he slowly pushes Buck down onto his back, slides between his legs.

Eddie lifts his head after pressing one last kiss to Buck’s chest. “It means whatever you want,” he says finally.

“But,” Buck is compelled to ask, “what if it changes everything?”

Eddie laughs, low and rough. “Of course it’ll change everything, Buck, and I want that. I don’t think it’ll take anything away though. It’s just another way for me to love you, and I already do, so…”

He pauses and Buck grabs him by the shoulders. 

“Up, up, up here now,” he says frantically, suddenly sure that if he can’t kiss Eddie immediately, he may genuinely die.

Eddie snickers and Buck realizes he’s said that last part out loud. Then Eddie’s mouth is back on him, and Buck stops thinking at all.

He’s aware that this is Eddie’s first time with a guy (and holy hell, that’s a thought so hot that Buck’s brain might melt out of his ears) but there’s nothing in the way Eddie’s moving against him that suggests any hesitation about what they're doing. He lines them up, hard cocks pressed together, both of them still in their sweatpants, and sets up a slow, filthy grind. It’s good, so fucking good, that all Buck can do is wrap his legs around Eddie, grab onto his shoulders, and hold on.

Eddie’s kissing him again, those same deep, slow kisses, his tongue fucking into Buck’s mouth in counterpart to the way their bodies are moving together. Buck’s got his hands firmly planted on Eddie’s ass now, and it’s just as spectacular as Buck always thought it would be, especially with Eddie gasping into his mouth, sexy punched out groans that bring Buck closer and closer to the edge.

“How do you…” Buck starts and then shudders at a particularly innovative shift of Eddie’s hips. “Eddie, fuck, how…”

“How what, babe?” Eddie whispers against his lips, not letting up on the way he’s rolling his hips for even a moment.

“How do you want to come?” Buck finally grits out, holding on by sheer force of will now.

The question seems to surprise Eddie and he eases up now, rocking his hips so slowly as he considers Buck’s face.

“I mean,” Eddie says and then a wicked grin crosses his face. “You’re the expert here, Buckley. Walk me through it. What are the options?”

Buck stares up at Eddie and then can’t help himself, starts to laugh, deep belly laughs as his head drops back onto the couch cushions. “Not an expert,” he gasps finally, and sweeps his hands from where they’re resting on Eddie’s shoulders down his arms to his wrists and then back up again, to link his fingers behind Eddie’s head, pulling him in for a kiss. “Journeyman at best.”

Eddie is still grinning and rolls his eyes affectionately. “Fine. Journeyman. Whatever.”

Buck kisses him again, reaches down to grab Eddie’s hips and pulls them flush to his own, before working his way down Eddie’s neck.

“Lots of options,” he mumbles into Eddie’s collar bones. 

Eddie is grinding against Buck harder now, gasping, and Buck can taste the sweat on Eddie’s chest under his tongue. 

“We can keep doing this,” Buck manages to say and then groans at the way Eddie feels. “Fuck, that’s so. Oh my god, Eddie.”

“What else?” Eddie pants.

“I could… oh shit, Eddie, I could.” Buck swallows, his own breathing ragged in his ears. “I could suck you, jerk you off, whatever you want. You could fuck me,” and Eddie goes rigid above him, head thrown back, tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief as he lets out the sexiest sound Buck has ever heard, and Buck feels Eddie’s cock jerk as he starts to come.

For a long moment, the silence in the room is broken by the harsh sounds of Eddie’s breathing. Then Eddie opens his eyes, and the look on his face cracks Buck’s heart wide open. Eddie looks astonished, awed almost, as if his entire worldview has been shaken, and maybe it has, Buck thinks, remembering some of his own recent revelations. Maybe it has.

Eddie stares down at Buck as his breathing starts to settle, and the weight of him pressing Buck into the couch is as intoxicating as it is reassuring. There’s something so raw and honest about this moment — the way Eddie’s eyes are fixed on Buck’s face, the damp heat between them, the smell of sex intermingled with the scent of the peonies Buck bought at the Farmer’s Market the other day. Buck feels like every sense he has, and maybe some he didn’t even know about, are dialed all the way in.

“Buck,” Eddie breathes and his smile makes Buck’s throat tighten and his eyes prickle suspiciously. “My god, Buck.”

Eddie leans down and brushes a kiss across Buck’s lips, gentle and sweet, but as he does so, the extra pressure on Buck’s aching cock makes him hiss, his hips jerking up not of his volition.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie says, and without further ado, slides down Buck’s body and sticks his hand down Buck’s pants.

It doesn’t take long after that. Objectively, it’s nowhere near the best handjob Buck’s ever had — Eddie’s hand is dry, his grip a bit too tight, and his rhythm isn’t great, but none of that matters because it’s Eddie staring down at him, Eddie whispering things like “God, Buck, you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart, c’mon baby, give it to me,” and Buck is helpless to do anything but obey.

It feels to Buck like his orgasm is being drawn out from the very depths of his being, starting deep in his belly and rolling over him like the tide, inevitable and inexorable. Eddie keeps muttering words of encouragement, and when Buck’s head tilts back and his back arches, Eddie grins in satisfaction.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Just like that.”

It turns out Eddie is mistaken. They clean up, make some dinner, collapse on the couch with their food and beers, and it’s no different than any other normal post-shift hangout. In the morning, Eddie good-naturedly submits to the ice packs Buck presses against his bruises, lets Buck make him coffee and bring it to him on the couch. No different from any other close call aftermath.

But Eddie’s never spent the night at Buck’s like that. Never brushed his teeth side by side with Buck before crawling into bed, wrapping himself around Buck like an octopus, the bare skin of his chest pressed to Buck’s back, his hand resting possessively on Buck’s hip. He’s never brushed a kiss to the sensitive skin at the nape of Buck’s neck. And he’s never said I love you quite like this before. So yeah, it turns out that he was also 100% correct. It changes everything.

And it’s amazing.

[kinardsevan]

Buck finds out that Tommy talks in his sleep, and it's all just cute and/or sweet things about Buck.

The first time it happens, he’s come off of a twenty-four in the morning after Tommy’s ran late, keeping him out until the middle of the night. As such, when Evan crawled into bed at eight AM, still wired from the last round of coffee he’d drank, his boyfriend was still in his first round of REM sleep, dead to the world when he crawled into the blankets. 

He’s been watching tiktoks about Huskies with attitudes when Tommy starts talking as he shuffles under the blankets, shifting towards him. 

“No you can’t touch my butt,” he mutters, rubbing his face against his pillow. “You never keep your hands to yourself, Evan.” 

He snorts at the words coming out of Tommy’s mouth, has to clap a hand over his face from making too much noise when his boyfriend suddenly shifts again. But then he settles again, and that makes him curious. He leans over, setting his phone on the nightstand. 

“Are you sure I can’t touch your butt,” he asks softly, running a hand down Tommy’s back. “I like how it feels.” 

Tommy huffs, curls his legs up under him. “Fine. But no squeezing.” 

Evan bites his lips together, laughing mutely. Tommy shifts again, snuggling closer to him in his sleep, and it breaks Evan’s focus as Tommy’s arm slides across his waist, pulling him in. Being in the strength of Tommy’s grasp always makes him melt. 

—

The second time it happens, Tommy has just come in from being on call from another forest fire. He barely manages to stay awake long enough to shower and let Evan shove a few bites of food down his throat. He passes out quickly, still on top of the blankets in his sweats and a shirt with a helicopter on it that says “shut up and lift”. He’s got one leg bent up and a hand resting across his torso, the very iimage of exhausted as he snoozes in Evan’s bed. It’s one of Evan’s favorite sights. 

It’s also that night that he pieces together that Tommy babbles when he’s exhausted. The more wiped out he is, the more he talks in his sleep. Sometimes it makes sense, other times its only an intelligible word here and there between garbled noises. Maybe even fake mouth static?

He’s halfway through the movie they were watching when it starts. 

“You got me a cheeseburger?” 

Evan furrows his brow as he glances down at Tommy, baffled by whatever is happening in his dream. 

“I love cheeseburgers.” 

He can’t help himself. “Tommy, do you want a cheeseburger?” 

“There’s cheese on the ceiling,” he replies. “Evan cooked the muffin man.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense,” he mutters to himself, doing his best to stifle his own laughter. But Tommy’s words also suddenly have him thinking about a veggie burger. 

When Tommy wakes up half an hour later, it’s to the sight of Evan eating takeout. 

“Food?” He asks wearily. Evan lifts the bag towards him. 

“Got you a cheeseburger,” he offers, a small smile playing on his face. Tommy glances at the bag skeptically for a beat, but something about it… 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, shifting up on the bed. 

. . . 

The third time it happens, Evan has a pretty good idea what he’s in for. He’s been off for twenty-four of his forty-eight while Tommy had just come off shift that morning. He spends the better part of the day tidying around the house and running errands while Tommy rests, but by mid-afternoon, he’s craving a nap. He snuggles down into the blankets behind Tommy, opting to be the big spoon for the afternoon.

He’s on the edge of consciousness when it starts. 

“No, CP30 cannot have WD-40. He’ll melt.” 

Evan grumbles softly as Tommy’s words pull him back from darkness. “What?” 

“Revenge of the sith is a better movie.” 

“Get outta here with that blasphemy bullshit,” Evan mutters, burrowing his face between Tommy’s shoulder blades. 

“Yes, princess.” 

His eyes snap open and go wide at the response, but half a second later, Tommy is snoring. 

. . .

“We gotta talk,” Evan says later that night as he’s putting dinner on the table. His tone is serious, so much so that Tommy is concerned. 

“Okay? What’s going on, babe?” 

Evan sits down next to him, moving bowls around to start putting food on his plate. 

“You know you talk in your sleep, right?” He asks. 

Tommy nods. “I’ve heard. Gets worse the more I need rest.” 

Evan nods back at him. 

“Well you called me princess,” he adds. “And continued on your speech about revenge of the sith.” 

Tommy chuckles softly, resting a hand over Evan’s. “Evan. Sweetie. Honey.”

Evan scowls at him. “It’s not a better movie, Tommy.” 

“This coming from the man that said Valentines Day and Love Actually were the same movie,” Tommy retorts. 

“Thomas Kinard,” Evan chides. 

Tommy smirks at him before shoving a forkful of food into his mouth. 

“On the subject though,” Evan continues, a small grin pulling on his face. “Can I still touch your butt?” 

Tommy’s eyes go wide as he looks up at him. “Excuse me?” 

Evan smirks back at him. 

[glorious-spoon]

"Naturally gravitating closer together" for buddie 🥰

hello and thank you! this sort of turned into a bobby POV ficlet and i'm not sure why?? anyway, here you go! (can be but doesn't have to be read as a continuation of this ficlet)

-

Bobby's not even sure they notice they're doing it. It's like watching a slow-motion dance across his backyard, the way they keep drifting back toward each other like celestial objects caught up in each other's gravity. Buck goes to get a pair of beers from the cooler and hands one to Eddie, who takes it and leans into his shoulder. Then they're off again, Eddie wandering over to talk to Christopher and Buck darting in to help Maddie catch Jee-Yun's party balloon before it floats off. A few minutes later, Eddie slips back into Buck's space, bumping shoulders and sipping his beer.

It's not that different from how they've always been. Bobby's not even sure he can put his finger on what's changed, only that there's an awareness to them now, an intentionality that wasn't there before.

"You've got your thinking face on," Athena remarks, slipping an arm around his waist and leaning into him. Bobby smiles and leans back.

"Just watching the party."

"Mmhm." She's quiet for a minute, sipping her drink. Bobby's quiet too, savoring the moment: the light breeze shifting the trees, the happy family gathered in his home, the familiar way his wife fits against him. Then Athena says, "You think they finally got it together? Buck and Eddie, I mean."

Bobby glances down at her. "What do you mean?"

"Bobby," she says, a fond, indulgent eye-roll in her voice.

"It's not my business."

"Mmhm. Could be your business, seeing as how they work together on your team."

He laughs, looping an arm around her hips. On the other side of the yard, Christopher has abandoned his barbeque wings for some kind of card game with Harry and Denny on the patio, and Buck and Eddie have closed the distance on the bench where he was sitting, pressed together shoulder to hip as they talk. And the thing is, Athena's not wrong. If he's seeing what he thinks he's seeing, it'll have to be his business, at least as far as HR forms go. But he remembers those early, heady days of sneaking around with Athena—kissing her behind the firetrucks, thrilling at every casual touch, drawn irresistibly into her orbit and the delight of something tender and new growing in the scorched wreckage of his personal life—and he can't quite bring himself to be a responsible fire captain about this just yet.

"I think I'm going to give them a minute," he says. "They deserve that."

Over at the bench, Buck says something that makes Eddie laugh and ruffle his hair. He leaves his hand on Buck's nape once he's done, the sort of half-casual plausibly-deniable touch that Bobby remembers pulling as a teenager in the back row of movie theaters. He doesn't mean to snort, but he can't quite help it.

"Oh, they're really not slick, are they," Athena observes mildly.

Bobby laughs. "It's new. It's exciting. I remember how that feels."

"Mm. You do, do you?"

"Yeah." He turns away from Buck and Eddie, and smiles down at his wife. "I really do."

[starsfic]

Monkie kid prompt: Pigsy finds out what Nuwa said to MK

And he is furious at her. 

"Get the fuck out of my shop."

Pigsy was so glad that Xiaotian is doing deliveries (actually doing deliveries, he checked the tracker app). It saves him from having to see the woman in the dark suit. Even though she appeared to be an ordinary woman, like a saleswoman or lawyer, Pigsy could feel the prickle of power that had filled the air near the pillar.

He knew who she was. He knew what she had told his son to do.

"I only wish to talk," Nuwa begins, a placid frown on her face. "The Harbinger-"

It probably looked back, but Pigsy didn't care as he yanked her forward by the front of her shirt, hard enough that she banged her hip against the counter. She hissed in pain, her eyes wide.

"He has a name. Qi Xiaotian. He loves art and cartoons and helping people. His favorite food is apricots. His favorite color, for all the yellow he wears, is green." He tightened his grip. "He is a person. A person that you essentially told to kill himself."

Nuwa gaped at him. He didn't care.

"Get the fuck out of my shop. Stay the fuck away from my son."

"...he was my creation first." It was probably his imagination, but she sounded hurt.

Pigsy scoffed. "That doesn't matter. You're nothing to him." Without another word, he turned away to his wok.

When he glanced back to the dining room, she was gone.