#THANKS AGAIN!!! really really loved these little ficlets I think it was

[amrv-5]

so many good prompts, very difficult to choose…8 or 9? if u are so moved!

HELLO AL! Thank you so much for this prompt--such a delight to write, and a really nice warm soft note to end this little prompt series on!! You asked for 8 or 9, but I combined them 'cause they worked so nice together! Thanks again for the prompt :)

(8. lifting the other while hugging + 9. slow-dancing turning into a tight embrace from this prompt list)

Hawkeye laughed into BJ’s neck. His face was warm with wine. The record player crackled—you leave me breathless, Ella Fitzgerald sang softly—as BJ held him closer, a hand at his lower back, the other cupping Hawkeye’s right hand to his chest. They stepped together in time, moving in a slow circle. 

The lights were low. The lamp in the corner cast a muted gold glow over the living room, their shared bookstacks, the coffee table pushed against the wall, the worn couch and rolled-up rug. 

“What’s funny?” BJ asked quietly, lips moving against the crown of his head. 

Hawkeye shook his head. He draped an arm around BJ’s shoulders. He was warm all over. BJ felt good against him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, hand rubbing gentle circles into his lower back. 

BJ slowed until their dance was reduced to a barely-perceptible shifting of weight. He tightened his hold on Hawkeye, and exhaled, breath tickling Hawkeye’s ear. 

Hawkeye hummed, relaxed, drunk on a solitary glass of wine and BJ. Everywhere they touched radiated warmth. The abundance of contact—BJ slipping his hand under the hem of his sweater to cup his hip—melted through him. He felt pliable, pleasantly liquid, and very loved. He always felt loved. BJ was good at that. But there were moments where it rose from a comfortable certainty to keen awareness.

He closed his eyes and tucked his face more firmly into BJ’s neck. The pretense of dancing had disappeared. They were just holding each other, unmoving, as the record played. BJ’s hand wandered warmly under the hem of his shirt. Hawkeye cupped the back of BJ’s head, and focused on breathing in time, so his chest pressed into BJ’s as BJ’s pressed into him. Liquid heat moved through him. He sighed shakily, trusting BJ to support his weight. 

“I’ve got you,” BJ whispered, fond, and lifted him bodily, leaning back. Hawkeye let it happen, laughing again, rubbing the back of BJ’s head to communicate his happiness, and to muss his hair. He was feeling possessive. 

BJ grinned at him up close. It was one of his shaky, emotional ones, closed mouth upturned under his mustache, a damp shine to his eyes. “Love you,” he said, earnest, eyebrows coming together like he wanted to make sure Hawkeye knew he really meant it. 

“I know,” Hawkeye reassured him, and kissed him, holding him in place by the jaw. BJ kept him off the ground, elevated a few inches, arms tight around his back. “I love you, too,” he added, and went in for another kiss. 

BJ slipped a hand down Hawkeye’s body, and tilted Hawkeye abruptly into a bridal carry. It was a very deft maneuver. Impressive. Seductive, too. 

“You’re a real gentleman,” Hawkeye said, settling comfortably into his arms. 

BJ kissed him—hard, and a little messy. “I’ll try my best to change your mind,” he said, already laughing at the line. 

Hawkeye laughed, too. “That’s bad,” he observed, glad, and let himself be carried to bed.

[maxlarens]

Hi ! As a pescatarian girly and as someone who has recently started to like Lando, I kept thinking about him with pescatarian!reader, because you know opposites attracts and also it made me think of the olive theory from 'How I met your mother', can be fic or smau

(also I'm the anon who requested the Charles fic and I was wondering if you gave names or emojis to your anons 🤔)

ahhh hi😇😇 thank u sm for sending another ask in. verrryy into this! ive never watched himym but i HAVE heard of the olive theory and genuinely think it can be so true. i also think like sharing food/giving certain parts of ur meal to ur partner is so sweet so i loved this a lot🥺🥺

also, tbh i have never had a consistent enough anon to name them/give them an emoji so i would loveee LOVE to do that🙏🏻 pls let me know what i should call u❤️ (and if anyone wants to be a regular/semi-regular anon and give themselves an emoji/name pls do!!!) ANYWAY alright i hope u enjoy— it’s a just a short ficlet 😌💖

LN: quid pro quo

pairing(s): lando norris x reader [read on ao3]

word count: 1.2k

“Eugh,” Lando says, feigning a gag as he looks at the plate of food set in front of you, “That’s disgusting. I don’t understand how you can put that in your mouth.”

Slowly, you raise an eyebrow at him, looking between your plate and Lando’s screwed-up expression; you point at your food, “Salmon? You think salmon is disgusting? Are you joking right now?”

He shakes his head fervently, a grimace still stuck on his face, “It’s gross.”

A laugh, loud and guffawing erupts from your mouth as you realise he’s being entirely serious. He’s fixated on your meal, frowning as if the fish has severely insulted him in some way. Quickly, you clap your hand over your mouth, concerned you’ll offend him if you keep laughing like that. This is one of a handful of dates you’ve been on together— clearly the first you’ve ordered seafood on— and you’re still trying to make a good impression on Lando.

“Wait,” you collect yourself, breathing deeply so you don’t fall into a fit of giggles again, “You’re not allergic are you?”

“No,” he shrugs, “I just hate fish. You’ve never heard that?”

You snort a little indelicately, already going back to eating your salmon, “‘You’ve never heard that?’,” you tease, “Do you think I stalk you on the internet, Norris?”

He grins that small sheepish grin you like so much as a light blush blooms on his cheeks. You’re very fond of him really. He’s cute in a scrappy kind of way; he’s funny and charming, a little bit dumb sometimes; and he’s into you, which is always a bonus. You’re not together— not quite— just seeing each other when you both have time, but it’s been going very nicely if you do say so yourself.

You like him.

He likes you.

Lando rolls his eyes, and purses his lips in an attempt not to let you see the smile that he’s trying to hide, “Don’t you? Stalk me on the internet?”

“Never,” you answer resolutely, thinking blatantly of that night after you’d first met him when you fell down a rabbit hole, spending a good hour watching thirst traps of him on Instagram before coming to your senses, “Not once.”

He hums, unconvinced, “Alright.”

Alright. You make a face, almost stick your tongue out at him but think better of it at the last second. He laughs— giggles— at you. You look away from him, down at your plate, trying to hide the smile that spreads and spreads behind your hair. God, you like him. You’re trying not to let it get away from you. You get the impression that he’s not huge on relationships, and you’re trying hard to be casual about him. It’s difficult— mostly because everything feels so easy when you’re together.

“So,” you start as you push a forkful of salmon and leafy greens around your plate, “Hate to break it to you, but I’m a pescetarian.”

“Um,” Lando asks around a mouthful of half-chewed food, “What’s that mean?”

You stifle a laugh, “Like a vegetarian, but I eat seafood.”

He swallows and makes another face, similar to the earlier one. You can see this is hard for him to process, he clearly dislikes seafood to a degree that you hadn’t quite understood until now. It’s funny. It’s another thing to add to the growing list of reasons you fancy Lando Norris. Though you would think that as a pescetarian you’d want him to like fish, but you suppose by not eating them he’s just saving all the sea animals that you’re not— quid pro quo.

“What about, like,” he waves his fork around, evidently still wondering why you’d eat seafood voluntarily, “just being a vegetarian?”

You shrug, “Vegetables are boring.”

“Right. Better than eating fish though.”

“I like fish.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t get it… It’s— they’re slimy and they smell and they’ve got fucking beady little eyes. It’s not natural.”

“Okay,” you laugh brightly at his despondent expression, “I do need to eat them, unfortunately. Otherwise, I’d probably die of malnutrition, or I dunno, scurvy.”

He groans, hanging his head so that all you can see of his face is that mop of brown curls. You think of your second date when you’d kissed him for the first time in your stairwell and how you’d threaded a hand into it— and they were soft and not heavy with product the way that you hate. The way he’d smelt like expensive cologne and tasted both smokey and sugary at the same time, just like the whiskey and cokes he’d been having at the bar. There’s a soft smile playing at your lips when he finally looks up.

“Does it bother you?” you ask, “That I eat fish.”

He shrugs, shakes his head in a non-committal way that could be either answer and does that little grin again. The one that means he’s going to say something that you’ll find either unbearably cute or embarrassingly funny.

“Yes,” he says, grin not subsiding, “How am I supposed to kiss you when you’ve got fish breath.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and a shocked laugh bubbles from your mouth, you try to ignore the stirring feeling in your gut at the words how am I supposed to kiss you in favour of responding to his lack of tact Try, being the keyword there. It somersaults in your head, how am I supposed to kiss you he said, like he was thinking of doing it again. Which, okay, of course, he’s thinking of doing it again. You understand what this is— but there was an unmistakable fondness there that you just can't shake.

Anyway, you push thoughts of kissing him aside, he’d still accused you of having fish breath, “Wow,” you say dryly, with no malice at all as much as you try to feign it, “You say that to all the girls?”

He blushes, his tan cheeks turning a very pleasant red as he properly realises what he’d said, “Shit. No— oh my god— I’m sorry. I just meant—”

You wave him off, laughing, “I know what you meant. You’re good, Lando.”

“Phew,” he lets out a breath of relief, his nervous laughter punctuating the air between you, without meaning to he says, “God, I thought I’d just fucked it.”

You furrow your brows and frown, confused, “No. You couldn’t.”

You watch him scrub a hand over his face, embarrassed, before it falls away and he gives you a sheepish little grin that says he’s happy to hear that. Toothy, eyes squinted and carving dimples into his cheeks. Your face feels warm and you smile back, biting your bottom lip on the smile so it doesn’t grow and grow to cover your whole face.

Later, after you’ve finished lunch and spent too much time talking over a too-sticky table in your favourite pub, Lando kisses you up against a tree in the park by your apartment. You put your hand in his soft curls and you smell cologne and taste what he’s been drinking as he presses his tongue into yours. The coarse hair of his moustache brushes against your lips and you kiss back with equal gusto. You pull away when it feels like you two are veering into too inappropriate territory for this public park. He chases you, but you laugh softly, pressing a perfunctory closed-mouth kiss to the corner of his mouth. He groans, laughs, and puts his forehead against yours.

You hum, “I guess my fish breath doesn’t bother you so much, huh.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, “You’re never going to let that go are you.”

You shake your head ever so slightly, “Not as long as I live, Norris.”

[luveline]

𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you comfort miguel when he lashes out after a memory —a ficlet featuring begrudgingly lovesick miguel and a flirty spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 1.5k

cw implied ptsd and accidental rough handling

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel can feel your heart-eyes on him. You're sitting behind him on the floor in his office, or, as you've fondly nick-named it this week, The Control Room, humming and making little origami flowers. 

So far you've made five, promising him without prompting a multi-coloured bouquet. He doesn't know why you've stopped (or why you started), but he doesn't have to turn around to confirm it. He can tell. You're shameless either way, proven when you say, "Hey, handsome?" 

He sighs with more annoyance than he feels. "What?"

"How'd you know I was talking to you?" you ask, with a laugh he loves and hates at once. Loves, because it's a really nice sound, and hates, because he knows how this goes. "I could've been talking to Margo." 

"She is handsome," Lyla chimes in. 

"Very much," you agree. 

Margo, alias Spider-Byte, looks up from her tablet screen to flash a smile. "Thanks, guys." 

"What did you want, then?" Miguel asks.

He's surrounded by girls who live to annoy him —they all laugh as though they know something he doesn't, and when he turns to glare at them they laugh more. Lyla zips out of his eyeline, disappearing from view with a sympathetic, "He's dumber than he looks." 

"Hurtful," Miguel says, turning back to his screen. "Why do I bother?" 

You stand up with your bundle of paper flowers crinkling in your hands and approach him. You're of normal height, while Miguel is of 'ridiculous' height (your word choice), and so you have trouble looking him in the eye when you stand close. You have more trouble keeping your distance, craning your neck all the way up with your rubber capped shoes to his spidersuit ones. 

"Can you lean down a bit, please?" you ask. 

Margo laughs, “Oh, here we go.”

Miguel has trouble saying no to you. And by trouble, he means he finds it impossible, and he hasn't done it in a while. He leans down very slightly, worried you're going to try and kiss him in front of the others. He's kissed you already (which he hates himself for, what a stupid thing to do) (but was a good kiss, as things go, your lips soft under his, his ardency undulating in the face of your little gasping sound when he'd bitten your lip, when he'd grasped at your side like you were slipping through his fingers), and you've kissed him. But never in front of other people.

Which isn't to say they don't know. Everyone definitely knows. They're just too scared or too kind to say. Or, like Lyla or Margo, they find it funny. 

Now in reach, you lift an origami flower to his ear and attempt to prop it there. He has a flash of a memory, a small hand by his face, the summer sun on his neck, and he can't deal with it. He grabs your wrist and pushes it away from him. 

Your eyes widen. You're not unused to his bad moods, but Miguel doesn't grab.

You look back, and he thinks it's because you're scared, and he wishes he could take it back straight away, but you're looking for Margo and Lyla. When you see they aren't there, you take his face into your empty hand and ask, "What's wrong?" 

Miguel doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say. Sorry would be a good start, but his mouth is dry. He frowns down at you.

"I didn't mean to overstep," you say, uncharacteristically serious. 

"I didn't mean to grab you," he says. 

"I know. It wasn't so aggressive, anyways. I'm genetically enhanced, you know?" Your smile creases the delicate skin at the corners of your eyes. "I'll make you something else. A fan, for the heat, or a jumping frog." 

You turn and take a step away. Again, Miguel reaches for you, but when he takes your wrist this time it's with the kindness you deserve.

"I'm sorry, cariño," he says. 

He’s embarrassed for having pushed you away, even if he couldn’t control himself. All you were trying to do no doubt was make him happy. It's usually your main prerogative besides winding him up, and he can't find any ill will in a paper flower. 

"Cariño," you quote in a murmur. It doesn't take a second for you to return to your smiley, loving self. "That's definitely something nice." 

"It's affectionate." He doesn't explain more than that. 

You force your hand into his, twirling inward like a half-hearted dance. "I can tell," you say giddily, dropping your cheek into his chest. 

He rubs the back of your hand. Sorry, sorry, it says, each pass of his thumb against your skin. 

"Miguel," you say, in the lilting cadence of a girl with a favour to ask, "now you've ragged me around–" 

"Not what happened–" 

"–I was thinking maybe I could do something to you." You smile cheekily around your words. 

He sweeps his gaze across the office to make sure there's no one here with you both, or about to be. Complicated you may be, but Miguel knows you well. Better than he should. He spent a long time denying his feelings for you, aggrieved and guilty, and a longer amount of time resenting you for being so damned enchanting. Which wasn't your fault in reality —you're a weird creature, and you can be a little off-putting; it's Miguel's problem alone that he wants you as badly as he does. To feel your neat, teasing smirk under his lips. To have the line of your jaw against his hand as you whisper flirtation or laugh at your own awful jokes. 

To take your hip into his grasp and squeeze. 

There have been times where Miguel wanted to press you up against a wall and kiss you into silence, quieten your taunting teasing with a bite to match his bark. And there have been times where he wanted to rub the tense line between your shoulders, having caught you in a vulnerable moment, and promise that things will be better. 

He isn't making any more promises, not in this life, but he thinks that someone like you, who tries too hard to make people happy and sometimes wears two masks at once deserves to do whatever it is they want to do to people like him.

"Okay," he says quietly. His voice is rough as hewn stone. 

You have a pocket full of paper stars that crunch as you lean in. "I'm gonna kiss you, if you promise not not to freak out. Is that cool?" 

Okay, you deserve some softness, but Miguel would rather lead. Your hand falls to his chest, and his hands find your face. His fingers behind your ears, his thumbs aligned with your smile, he squeezes your cheeks in his hold gently, tilting your chin up, and up. The column of your throat is bared and begging to be scandalised. He can imagine it, the bruising his lips would leave behind like crescent moons and the pinprick crimson stars from his needling fangs if he were to only press down. 

"We'll compromise. I'll kiss you, and you'll let me apologise again." 

"I don't need you to say sorry again," you say softly. 

"Then I won't say it." 

The implication has heat rising to your cheeks. Your hand grabs uselessly at his suit as you close your eyes, and Miguel knows his cue. He leans down and kisses you, tender but a little rough, your lips soft and warm and eager as he encourages your head to one side. It feels like you try to say something but you don't move back, and so he doesn't either, kissing and kissing and kissing until he's sure he'll remember how it feel tonight, hours from now, when he's staring at a screen wishing you were haunting his office rather than in a doze in the girl's dormitory. 

"Miguel," you say, practically into his mouth. This time he pulls away, and you take a small step back so you don't have to crane your neck. "I, uh…" 

Miguel wipes the sheen from your bottom lip, not not listening but certainly not giving his full attention. He's hoping you'll let him kiss you again.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the flower," you say. 

His eyes lifted to yours. "It's not that. It's not you. Don't waste any time thinking about it, okay?" 

He pinches your chin between his forefinger and his thumb. You hold his eyes for a moment. 

"I don't really think," you say bashfully, wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a hug he doesn't have time to reciprocate. 

"You think," he says, blinking as you retreat from him completely, waltzing back to your origami station on the floor. Your hips don't sway, but there's a movement to them he tracks. 

"About you, handsome? All the time." 

Miguel groans and turns back to his screens. Lyla appears silently, and sticks a finger into her mouth in a mock gag. 

"That's in poor taste," he says. 

"I would like to hand in my resignation." 

"You can't resign, Lyla. You're a hologram." 

She pushes her heart-shaped sunglasses up her nose and blinks out of view, refusing to speak to Miguel for the rest of the day outside of official Society business, and even then she's cranky. You fill the void of conversation with a mixture of nonsensical and merited suggestions, and by the time you leave for the night, his desk is decorated by a rainbow menagerie of paper animals, each one made with care. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed! please consider reblogging if you have the time! <;3 if you have a request of this pairing or other miguel fics and want to share, im eager to see them!

my other miguel fics

[flowerfan2]

Steve falls hard, is the thing.  At least, he does this time.  He knows it’s crazy, that Eddie has only been out of the hospital for a few weeks, that Steve has only really known him for a few days more than that. But he knows more than most people that life is full of cliffs and dangers and if there’s happiness to be had, he’s ready to take it.

It happens so quickly that he speeds right past any potential sexuality crisis, doesn’t pass go, just realizes one evening while he’s tucking a blanket around Eddie’s feet when he dozes off on the couch that he’s in love.   He knows it’s real, because Eddie’s feet are frankly stinky since it’s still hard for him to get around, and yet Steve’s content to curl up with Eddie’s feet in his lap and make sure they stay toasty warm.

He tells Robin that night, and once she’s finished swatting him with a nearby magazine and then hugging him until his ribs squeak, she asks him what he’s going to do about it.  “Tell him,” Steve answers, and Robin stares at him as if he’s grown two heads (he hasn’t, he checked).  “Just like that?” she asks, eyes wide.

“Know any good reason to wait?” Steve asks, and when Robin shakes her head no, he smiles.

The next day Steve puts on a clean pair of khakis and his favorite striped polo.  He ever so briefly considers wearing something not so preppy, but he doesn’t think Eddie would appreciate anything less than the truth.  The real Steve, polo shirts and all.  Begin as you mean to continue, and all that.

When he arrives at the trailer the next day (yes, that same goddamned trailer, flimsy and broken but in somewhat better shape than it was a few weeks ago), Steve takes a deep breath and knocks on the door, then remembers he’s supposed to use his key so that Eddie doesn’t have to get up off the couch too often.  He juggles the grocery bag in his arms and finds the key, glad to see when he gets the door open that Eddie hasn’t been disturbed.  In fact, it looks like he’s fast asleep.

Steve puts the groceries away and settles at the end of the couch like he always does, pulling Eddie’s feet onto his lap, and paging through a comic book.  A little while later Eddie stirs, blinking his eyes open and smiling at Steve.

They decide to watch a movie, but after a few minutes Eddie complains that his neck hurts from lying in the same position all day.  Steve helps him switch around so that his head is at the other end of the couch, and Eddie continues to gripe, but he’s smiling the whole time.  Steve can tell he likes the attention, likes when Steve slides an arm around his back and gently rearranges his limbs.  Steve likes it too.

Steve fetches some snacks from the kitchen and returns to find Eddie shuffling himself around again, claiming that the new position isn’t working either.  Soon they’re sitting next to each other, legs stretched out on a pillow on the coffee table, the television directly in front of them.  Steve is getting a suspicious feeling about the whole thing, and it only intensifies when Eddie gives a little sigh and rests his head on Steve’s shoulder.  “Thanks,” Eddie says softly.  “This is perfect.”

Steve’s not sure how much time goes by – time is weird when you’re practically holding your breath – but when he tilts his head to look at Eddie, Eddie’s looking right at him.  

“Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m falling for you, you know.”

Eddie bites his lip and smiles, his nose crinkling adorably.  “Yeah, I figured.”  He turns back to the television and snuggles in closer against Steve’s side.  “It’s good, ‘cause, you know.  Me too.”

______

You can read all of my Steddie ficlets in one place on A03 here.

[trashcanfanfics]

might I request some headcanons for ford (young and old) w/ a reader who’s a witch (like from the boiling isles) and has their own place in the woods? they’re known as the witch of the woods and there are stories from local teens about how they’ll “steal your bones if you get too close to their house,” but they’re actually really nice and will make you lunch if you stop by.

please, and thank you 🔮

Man, do I love this idea!! I immediately started thinking of a little ficlet/imagine/scenario

Reader gender not mentioned, could be any gender

This turned out longer than I thought it would

I'd exiled myself to earth a bit ago in response to the ban on wild witches. It was easier for me to leave than to fight back then. I could probably go back anytime, but I'd rather not be forced to pick one coven.

It wasn't all bad here. The rain didn't burn, plants didn't move on their own or try to eat me. I loved the green color of the landscape and my palisman, Gretch, enjoyed the fresh air. The locals were friendly enough, and the children were curious.

I'd noticed that they were wary of me and my strange abilities. To combat this, I'd just make warm beverages and small meals for anyone traveling farther into the woods near my little cabin.

It was on my way home from the human store that I met him. A man stuck in the root of a tree. One of mine, unfortunately. In a moment of homesickness, I'd planted a seed from the Boiling Isles near my home, and this particular one was a grasping willow. A sigh escaped me, loud enough for my surprise captive to hear. He turned towards me, seeming to forget his foot was stuck, causing him to fall over. The man winced.

"I'm sorry for my tree, sir." I swirled my pointer finger into a circle of green. The root lifted and moved from his ankle. "He's just a bit playful." I set my bags down to offer him my hand. He hesitated, looking at my hand before reaching up and taking the offered help. Once he was up, I shook his hand with a smile and introduced myself.

"Nice to meet you," he quickly took his hand back and cleared his throat, "my name is Stanford Pines, though people call me Ford."

"Wonderful to meet you, Ford." I picked my bags back up and faced him again. "I have groceries to put away, so I have to go. Try walking in a wide circle to avoid Snipper if you're walking around here."

"Oh, uh, thank you for the advice." He waved awkwardly and turned to leave. I chuckled slightly and went on my own way. Gretch sniffed the air in his direction before hiding back into my cloak. They whispered to me about the stranger's smell as I walked back home.

~*~

Ford came around more often after that. He asked many questions, and I answered. I asked fewer questions but received more answers. He was eager to talk and learn, and I was grateful for the company. Ford became a part of my routine in the best way. We'd meet up for lunch at either mine or his cabin and tell me what he's found. His theories enthralled me. I'd developed quite the soft spot for him and missed him when he wasn't around. My palisman teased me endlessly about it, but stopped once I'd mention how they liked to curl up on his lap as he talked.

He'd started coming around less and less. I wondered what new oddity he was occupied with to take up all his time. Gretch had been keeping watch over him and hadn't seen much since they couldn't get into the cabin. Whenever he did visit, he was...distant. There were bags beneath his eyes, an erratic fear, and paranoia took over his voice, even when it was just a whisper. I was worried and told him as such. He'd stood abruptly from the living room couch, making poor Gretch leap to the floor, and looked at me for the first time in months.

"There's nothing to be worried about. I'm fine, everything's fine!" His eye twitched. I blinked a few times in shock at his outburst. My hands flew up in a placating manner.

"Okay, okay," I lowered my hands and held them out to him palm up, "how about I make you your favorite tea, hm?" His eyes lowered to my hands before placing his own in them. I gently squeezed his hands for exactly six seconds before standing up and leading him to the kitchen. He followed me as I moved around to make the tea. Gretch stayed close to him, attempting to comfort him. The kettle boiled and I pulled it off before the whistle blew. We both watched the tea steep for a few seconds before Ford wrapped me in a hug from behind. His head rested against me as he shook.

~*~

"I think...I think I did something very bad, and you won't forgive me." His voice cracked. I looked up from the soup I was serving to look at him. He was looking at his hands.

"I suppose that's a valid concern. Although, I can't say whether I would or wouldn't if I don't know what it is." I set the ladle down and grabbed the tray holding the bowls. "For what it's worth, there is very little you can do that I wouldn't be able to forgive." I set the tray on the table and set a bowl in front of him, then Gretch's, before sitting down my with my own.

"I..." He stared at the soup. "I care for you deeply, and I don't want you to be mixed up in my mistakes." His eyes were tired when they looked at me. My breath caught in my chest as I stared back. My palisman stopped slurping to to look up at both me and Ford.

"Is that what you're asking me to forgive? You caring deeply for me?" I looked down at my own soup, stirring it slightly. My heart raced as his words filled my mind. "If that's a thing in need of forgiveness, then I beg for yours in return." I look back at him with a small smile. His brow furrowed.

"That's not the point I'm making." Ford ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his forehead. "I've made a mistake that could put you in danger. Out of everything that's happened to me, you've been the best. I don't want to lose you." He pulled out a book from his bag. One of his journals. He slid the book over to me. Gretch leaned over the tray to sniff it before recoiling. I blinked and looked at him.

"Ford, what--" I was cut off by him rounding the table and kneeling beside me. He grabbed my hands in both of his and looked me in the eye, more serious than he'd ever been with me. Gretch, wanting a better view, crawled over the table to be beside me.

"Take this journal and hide it. Take it as far from here as possible. Go and never come back. Please." His voice trembled. "I don't want him to get you."

"Who? Who is going to get me? What aren't you telling me?" I pulled my hands from his to hold his face, tears brimming my eyes. "Ford, tell me what's going on, why do I have to leave? What will happen to you once I do?" Tears poured down my face as I bit back a sob. I'd been so worried about him, about why he'd been so distant. Then he was asking me to leave. Leave Gravity Falls, my home, the only person besides my palisman I trusted fully with all my heart. I didn't want to go.

"I can't tell you. Please, believe me, it's safer this way." Ford reached for my face, eyes flitting back between my own. He leaned in and kissed me softly, barely a whisper on my lips. My eyes shut, allowing more tears to fall. I pushed into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and deepened the kiss.

"I can't leave you." I said against his lips as we both pulled back slightly. I kissed him again. "I can't leave you, Ford." Our foreheads were pressed against each other.

"You have to." He pulled away and stood up. He grabbed his bag and turned to leave. Gretch chased after him immediately. I watched him go for a second, tears still falling down my face, before grabbing the book, and running after him. Grabbing the strap of his bag, I pulled him back.

"If you're going, then take this with you. I won't be part of something i don't know about." I shoved the book into his chest and glared at him through my tears. He looked at the book and then me before steeling his gaze. He shoved the book back into his bag and left. The front door closed, and I made my way back to the kitchen, Gretch following sadly behind. The soup had gone cold.

~*~

We hadn't spoken in a month. Four weeks. Thirty days. I went to his cabin to see him but his friend, Fiddleford McGucket, was on his way out and warned me to stay away from Ford.

"For your own sake." He said, rushing to his truck, bags in tow. "He's gone insane." I'd still knocked on his door for the next week. No reply. Gretch continued to keep an eye out and told me whatever they deemed relevant.

The next three I wallowed in my grief. Moping around the house, not taking care of my plants, or myself. I could barely brush my teeth or eat. My body odor followed me like a cloud. Days blurred together. Gretch tried to help me, but they were just as upset. Eventually, I had to go out to get more groceries.

On the way to the store, in my sweatpants, hooded sweater and muddy boots, I passed by Ford's cabin flying low to the ground on Gretch. As I looked towards it, my heart clenching painfully, the trees began to shake. I looked around in confusion as Gretch and I slowed to a stop. Then back to the cabin. The basement windows lit up a bright blue. Before I could stop myself, I flew straight towards the door, using my magic to unlock it. Bursting into the foyer, down the steps to the basement, I saw two figures.

There was Ford and someone else who looked like him. Stanley, his twin brother. Ford had told me about him. Ford was floating in the air, waving his limbs around, trying not to get pulled into a giant machine glowing with the light I'd seen outside.

"Ford!" I yelled, running to help him. Gretch almost reached him as he screamed his brother's name. He was sucked into the portal faster than I could cast a spell. "FORD!" I fell to my knees in front of the portal, next to where Stanley was standing. He was gone. My tears became my closest friends in the past weeks. These ones felt different. They hurt more, like daggers down my cheeks. He was gone. My friend, the one I adored and trusted the most. Gone. I sobbed out his name again, looking at the ground, Getch placed their head into my lap.

"Uh, are you...Did you...know my brother?" The voice made me jump. I turned to Stanley. I'd forgotten he was here in my anguish. I sniffed and wiped my face on my sleeve.

"Yes. He was my friend."

~*~

Ford had been gone for 30 years. After he'd been taken through the portal, Stan and I began a sort of friendship. He was brash and rude, his voice was gruff. He was different from Ford in so many ways, but so similar. Our friendship wasn't like the one with Ford. It was less lunch dates and more I'd bring him meals and take him shopping.

He'd convinced a crowd of shoppers that he was the mysterious scientist in the cabin while he was shopping by himself one day. I'd gotten very angry at him and refused to talk to him for a week after that. Eventually, I came around to it, realizing that he does need to make money somehow.

In time, the "Mystery Shack", as Stan called it, became quite profitable. People were attracted to its unbelievable aura. Personally, I found most of Stan's grotesque attractions to feel like home. I'd known someone who looked like the "Eyeball with Legs" back in the Boiling Isles. Gretch was glad Stan never asked them to be an exhibit. Sometimes, I feel as though Stan took inspiration from my stories.

It was summer when the twins came to Gravity Falls. Stan told me I wasn't allowed to do magic or talk to them about the strangeness in our little town. I told him that I wasn't going to hide who I was from anyone, and if he had a problem with it, don't let them go out by my cabin. We had a heated argument about that. I had resolved to not speak, or even go looking for him or anyone from the Shack that whole summer.

Of course, that didn't stop them from looking for me. Apparently, Ford had written about me in his third journal, and Dipper had stumbled across it. It lead them both to my doorstep with a gentle knock on the door.

"Hello?" As I opened the door, I saw two children, tweens, it seemed. The girl was holding a video camera at my face. "Oh!" They looked familiar almost.

"Uh, hi, uh..." The boy ruffled through a familiar book. I realized then who I must've been talking to. This must be Dipper and Mabel. The Pines' genetics must have been strong, they looked just like their great uncles. "Are you the witch of the woods?" His question made me laugh slightly. Gretch poked their head out the door to sniff at the children, causing the girl to gasp and coo at them, holding a hand out. I debated telling them both to leave, but it had been a while since I'd had company. Besides, it was getting a bit dark, and the woods were dangerous for children to go out into.

"That's what the townsfolk call me, yes." I gestured for them to come inside. "Would you like some tea?" The girl quickly came in with an excited smile. She was already petting and baby-talking Gretch. I chuckled.

"Oh, you're so cute! What's your name?" She looked around my living room and gasped. "I love your curtains!" She raced over to touch them before her brother stopped her, scolding her in a hushed tone. I smiled at them before going into the kitchen with Gretch in tow. They followed soon after.

"I'm not going to eat you, despite what the other children might say." I grabbed three tea cups and started the stove. "I don't do much other than tend to my plants and feed hikers that come by." I placed teabags into a teapot.

"So you're...not a witch?" The boy asked. I laughed again and ushered them to sit at the table. The girl gasped at the center piece. A lovely potted plant of flowers Ford had gifted me a long time ago. They were spring flowers, so they had stopped blooming. I smiled fondly at them.

"What kind of plant is this?" She touched the leaves gently. "It's so pretty."

"They're called shooting stars." I swirled my pointer finger in a green circle, causing the flowers to glow green as well and bloom. Gretch sniffed them, then sneezed. "They're normally a spring flower, but I'm able to keep them going with the sunroof in place and a bit of magic.

"So you are a witch!" The boy yelled. The kettle whistled and I quickly went to stop it. "This is incredible! Mabel! Did you catch that on video?" His sister, Mabel, looked at the camera, which had been placed facing away from the plant, towards a window.

"Whoops." She fixed the camera to face the flowers, which had ceased glowing and sat, bloomed, but otherwise non magical. He groaned in frustration and looked at me.

"Would you do that again? For the camera?" He gestured to the technology. I finished making the tea and brought it over, giving them each a cup.

"I would," I sat down in my own chair, "but the flowers are already bloomed, dear." I took a sip and set it back down. Looking at him with a small smile full of humor. Gretch huffed in their form of laughter. Ford had always called me a smart ass.

"Darnit!" He put his head on the table. Mabel reached over and patted his back before taking a sip of her tea. She hummed in delight at the taste and finished the cup in a few gulps. I offered her more, which she gladly accepted, drinking more before scratching Gretch on the head. The palisman leaned into her hand.

"I could do something else for your, oh, what are you needing the footage for, Dipper?" My question made his head shoot up. He looked at me in surprise. I realized that I'd called him his name before he'd told me.

"How do you know my name?" His eyes widened. "Do you read minds?" I was already shaking my head before he finished. Gretch huffed another laugh.

"I know your uncle, is all." I held my hand up to stop both of their questions. "Stan and I are, well, I suppose you could call us friends."

"Are you two in a relationship? Are you in love?" Mabel stood on her chair, her hands planted on the table as she leaned towards me. I scrunched my face in slight disgust even thinking about being with Stan. My palisman sneezed and shook their head.

"Absolutely not." I huffed and rolled my eyes. "Not even if he begged." The very idea of Stan being who I came home to made me very uncomfortable. Besides...I still dreamed of Ford. I regretted that our first and only kiss was when he was leaving. Maybe if I'd been braver in the beginning, said something sooner, he'd still be here. Maybe it'd have chased him away earlier than he did.

"Um, witch...sir? Ma'am? Sma'mir?" Mabel's voice drew me out of my reverie. I blinked and looked at her. She tilted her head in confusion.

"Pardon, I was leagues away. Did you say something, dear?" I looked at the clock to see the time. "Oh, that might have to wait. You two need to get home." I stood and ushered them to the living room where I grabbed my warmest shawls. They would have to do, my coats were buried in the hall closet. I wrapped one around Mabel, as she was the closest, so that it covered her head. when I turned to do the same to Dipper, he refused.

"I'll be fine, I don't need it." He held up his hands and I put mine on my hips. My eyebrow arched as I gave him a look that said this wasn't an argument. Gretch went behind him and gently nudged him towards me.

"It gets cold at night, especially in the woods." I quickly threw it over his shoulders and over his head like his sister. Mabel giggled as she pointed the camera at us. Dipper's frown deepened as his cheeks reddened. "I won't have you catch a chill on my watch. It'll just be another thing for Stan to b-ahem, yell about." With them properly bundled, I wrapped myself up and had Gretch turn into a staff. Both children gasped.

"I definitely got that on video." Mabel said as I waved them both to get on. Mabel in front of me and Dipper behind, I took off, up and over the trees. The twins both yelled out, though I suspected for different reasons.

As we walked up the porch, the door swung open to reveal Stan himself. He looked from both of the twins then to me. His eyes darkened slightly.

"I told you not to talk to them!" He pushed them both behind him and pointed a finger at me. "You said you wouldn't!" His glare matched mine. I pushed his hand out of my face and lifted my chin.

"Children, cover your ears." I spared them a glance to see them do so. My finger replaced his between us. "They were deep in those damn woods at dusk! I wouldn't have had to take them home if you had been doing your fucking job of keeping them safe! No wonder they're up to their goddamned knees in the supernatural of this fucking town!"

"How much did you tell them, what did you tell them?!" He got closer to me, dangerously so. I pointed my palisman staff towards him as a barrier. "So help me, if you told them-!" That made me scoff.

"Oh, please, I didn't tell them anything." I scoffed and waved my other hand to dismiss the thought. "Do you have such little faith in me? After all these years?" A sigh left my lips as I shook my head.

"Just stay away from them!" He pointed a finger at me again. "They don't need to be involved with all this weirdness." His statement made me roll my eyes and I turned to leave.

"They're already too invested in the weirdness, Stanley." I turned my head to look back at him over my shoulder, mounting my palisman. "They won't end up like him in one summer, but if you're that worried, keep them out of the woods." With that, I took off into the sky.

~*~

The children clearly didn't listen to Stan, if he told them to stay away from me. They came around my home every few days or so, asking me about myself and the woods surrounding. I'd been vague about my friendship with Ford, for Stan's sake if nothing else. Gretch enjoyed their company, especially Mabel's. She would bring the palisman snacks and plenty of affection. Waddles and Gretch became fast friends when the pig was brought along as well.

Mabel had latched onto my story of him and was sobbing by the time I'd told her he was gone and I'd never see him again. Dipper also seemed disappointed, wanting to meet the scientist. He'd asked if I was talking about the author of the journals. I'd told him no. Gretch whined at that, clearly frustrated I wouldn't tell them anything. I just shooed her away.

They told me about their adventures and a figure named Bill. I'd sat eagerly by, hearing about their encounters. They had been in danger multiple times over the summer and I'd nearly gone to shout at Stan some more before they said they didn't want him to know. I explained to them that not telling Stan was a mistake. He is their guardian for the summer and needed to know where they were so he could help if needed. They disagreed and went home. I'd asked Gretch to watch over them for a while to make sure they weren't in too much danger.

It was sometime after Mabel's sock opera when the kids invited me over. Well, more Mabel did, with Stan's permission. Though the man had been rather grumpy over the phone. I was amused by Mabel's antics and agreed, soon making my way over there. Gretch sniffed the air and shook their head, rubbing their nose.

"Oh hush, I'm sure Stan can't stink that bad from out here." I joked before knocking on the door. "Should we invest in nose plugs for you?" The door opened before they could retort. Mabel squealed when she saw me and pulled me into the cabin and to the living room.

"You're going to love this guy, trust me," She squealed again, "I'm a master match maker." I laughed at her enthusiasm. She was determined to have me meet someone. The only time she'd stopped was when she'd found out Stan had a crush on Lazy Susan.

"Mabel, I've told you already that I'm perfectly fine on my own. I really should stop ind--" I looked up to see the unfortunate suitor this time. My eyes widened and my heart stopped. I knew the figure instantly. Despite the wrinkles, my dreams made sure I'd never forget his face. "Ford?" His eyes widened as he recognized me. He said my name in a whisper. Gretch wasted no time in throwing themselves at him, circling and sniffing and bumping into him. He huffed a laugh and pet them gently.

"I didn't forget you either." He looked up from the palisman back to me. "I'd thought you'd have left Gravity Falls." His other hand twitched, as if he wanted to touch me. I couldn't hold back, I ran to him and wrapped him in a hug. The tears that had been building up overflowed.

"I told you I couldn't." I felt his arms slowly hug me back. He squeezed me gently and buried his face into my neck. I gave him one more squeeze before pulling back slightly to look up at him. Our eyes met and I smiled brighter than I'd had in years. He returned the gesture. "I'm glad you're back." Tears continued to slide down my face and I sniffed.

"You knew each other?!" Mabel's voice broke us both out of our little bubble. "What?!" She turned to Dipper, who'd just walked in, and shook him by his shoulders screaming about how this is a better story than the Dusk series. Dipper, having pulled himself from his sister's grasp, looked at me and Ford, still in an embrace. Mabel ran out of the room to go tell Stan.

"...When I asked if the person you were talking about was the author of the journals..." He furrowed his brows. I hesitantly pulled myself fully from Ford's arms and cleared my throat.

"I lied, yes." My hand was already up to stop him from asking questions or comment on my dishonesty. "Stan had asked me not to, it would have caused problems if you knew." The boy looked displeased with my answer.

"That's what Grunkle Stan said, too." He crossed his arms. "It's stupid! If we knew, we could have helped rebuild the portal and get Great Uncle Ford back!" His statement had Ford opening his mouth, but I was faster.

"Now, that's enough, young man!" I put one hand on my hip and pointed a finger at him. He jumped and his eyes widened. I'd never raised my voice at either of the twins before. "Stan is a ridiculously infamous liar, but this time he did out of necessity. You weren't there to see what happened after Ford was sucked into that portal, he was dealing with the grief of losing his brother and while I'm going to have very strong words with him out of earshot of you kids about rebuilding that machine, it's understandable how he went about things." Gretch sneezed, huffed and then looked away. I raised an eyebrow at them and put my other hand on my other hip. They gazed right back at me and yawned before laying down nonchalantly. I rolled my eyes. They never truly liked Stan. Ford laughed slightly at mine and Gretch's wordless exchange. I turned to him with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow. He only shook his head fondly.

"You're defending him?" Dipper stuck up his chin, ignoring the palisman. "I thought you guys didn't like each other..." A sigh escaped me at that. I crossed the room, pulled out a chair to the card table before sitting down. Ford followed to stand next to me, my heart swelled at the thought that he was here. Actually back.

"Stan and I don't always see eye to eye," I began, watching Dipper join me at the table, "but, well, I helped him for the first few months after the incident. With the portal, I mean. We looked through the research we had to figure it out."

"You helped with that?" Ford looked incredulous. "Why? It was dangerous!" His outburst made me look at him with a huff. Gretch snuffed out a laugh and made themself comfortable on the old yellow chair.

"I was getting to that." This seemed to placate him as he closed his mouth and cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Anyway, I had been helping him, reading through the only journal we had, before I'd looked at everything and used my oracle abilities to try and track down any others. I'd had a vision in my crystal of what would happen if I helped further and told Stan what I'd seen."

"I'm guessing he didn't believe you?" Dipper asked, rolling his eyes. I smiled at how the resemblance he had to Stan in that moment.

"He rolled his eyes just like that when I told him. Stan's always been a stubborn bas--ahem, man." I snickered, glancing at Ford and winking when our eyes met. His face reddened "It's a family trait, I've noticed."

"I'd hardly call myself stubborn." Ford crossed his arms and looked away. "It's not stubbornness when you're right." His defensiveness made me bark out a laugh. His face deepened in color as he refused to look at me.

"Okay, and when you told him what would happen and he didn't believe you, you stopped helping?" Dipper put his arms on the table and leaned towards me, eagerly waiting for the rest of the story.

"Well...not exactly." I looked off to the side, thinking how to phrase my words. "I mean, I stopped helping with the portal, yes, but I stayed until the Shack became more popular. In the beginning of the change, I understood needing the money, but the more ridiculous it became, the more I felt like it was wrong. We'd gotten into a huge fight over it. There's been tension ever since."

"So you and Gruncle Stan were never together?" Mabel's voice made me jump. I looked to see her sitting on the floor and Stan leaning against the yellow chair Gretch had fallen asleep in. He looked at Mabel in confusion. I rubbed my hand on my forehead and sighed.

"Mabel. I've told you this." I looked at Stan and scrunched my nose, he rolled his eyes, his arms crossed. "I have never, and I mean ever, considered Stan anything more than an unlikely friend." I looked at her and shook my head.

"Yeah, they're not my type anyway." He snickered. It was my turn to roll my eyes before crossing my own arms. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Yes, his type is anything twenty years younger and doesn't have enough wits to realize he isn't as funny as he thinks he is." I smirked at the indignant noise he made at my jab. "Or a spider." My last comment made Dipper and Mabel laugh as Stan's face grew red.

"Hey! She didn't look like a spider at the time!" He grumbled and looked back down at Gretch, poking them to try and get them to move. They growled in response. "How do you even know about that?" He looked at the kids and then grumbled under his breath again.

"Besides," I looked at Mabel, "I have my eye on only one person. I have since I first met him." Her eyes sparkled as she looked between me and Ford. Dipper looked exasperated.

"Is he Great Uncle Ford?!" She stood up and pointed at us both. I chuckled at her enthusiasm. Ford looked at her, his mouth agape and cheeks red. Dipper rolled his eyes, but seemed interested as he eyed both me and Ford with interest.

"Yes." I smiled at him as he already opened his mouth, words spilling out before he could register what I said.

"That's hardly an appropriate thing to say--" He stopped and looked at me. "Did you say yes?" He was staring at me in amazement. I could see Stan gagging in my peripheral vision. Mabel giggled and Dipper started writing down on a piece of paper.

"I did." I raised my eyebrow at Ford. "Did you forget about that kiss? I'm a bit insulted." He blinked and cleared his throat, looking away. His face was so red, I thought he was going to faint from the blood rush.

"No!" He cleared his throat again. "No, I just...I didn't think..." His gaze softened and he reached out to cup my face. I leaned in, keeping eye contact as he rubbed a thumb over my cheek. My hand reached up and held his there.

"Ugh, gross. Get a room." We both looked at Stan who gagged again. "At least take it outside." I rolled my eyes again and stood up, bringing Ford's hand from my face to hold between us. He looked at me as I reached up my own hand to bring his face closer to mine. At long last, I kissed him. He made a muffled noise of surprise but quickly leaned into the kiss. Stan and Dipper both groaned as Mabel cheered. I pulled back and looked Ford in the eyes.

"I wish I'd told you sooner," I leaned in and gave him another kiss, "I love you Stanford Pines."

~*~

Weirdmageddon had been concluded, the twins, both sets, safe and sound. Dipper and Mabel had their birthday before saying goodbye. I'd cried as I hugged them. They'd each received a charm of good luck. Ford and Stan had decided to sail around the world, inviting me to join them. I'd told them I'd let them catch up for a few years before setting sail with them. I'd be here when they came back during the summers.

"Are you sure? We don't mind, really." Ford had encouraged, but I shook my head with a smile. Stan shrugged his shoulders with a small smile.

"Yeah, it'd be nice to have a powerful witch aboard." He smacked a hand on my shoulder. I laughed and patted his hand. He moved it back to his side.

"I'm sure you boys can handle yourselves. Besides, I've waited this long." I looked at Stan then Ford. Gretch huffed and sat firmly next to Ford, daring me to try and stop her from going. "Fine by me, Gretch. Go on with them, I'll see you in a few years."

"It doesn't have to be years..." Ford looked down at them with a sheepish smile. "You could join us at the end of next summer." Stan gave a noise of agreement.

"Yeah!" Stan gave me a nudge. "It'd be nice to catch up with you, too." We had gained some of our friendship back during the apocalypse and I was glad for it. I smiled and shook my head fondly.

"Alright, fine." They both smiled at my confirmation. "Send me letters in the meantime." Stan agreed and went to say one more goodbye to his protege, Soos, before getting the car. Gretch huffed and walked off, deciding to stay with me after all. Ford stepped closer to me, gently cupping my face in one of his hands. We both leaned in and kissed. Stan drove up and honked the horn, causing us to reluctantly part.

"I promise to write." He gave me one more kiss before getting into the car and they both drove off. I kept waving until they were out of sight.

"See you next summer." I said before heading back home with Gretch. My heart felt full.

[wileys-russo]

small intimate interactions - ficlet?🥺

small intimate interactions ficlet

"lee! get off." you whined as the blonde collapsed herself into you, long limbs wrapping around your waist trapping you in her arms. "no you're comfy." the english girl mumbled into your shirt as you tried to yank her hands off.

"i need to go and shower you leech!" you laughed as leah leaned more of her bodyweight onto you, the two of you sat side by side by your cubby in the change rooms after training. "yeah you do actually, you smell terrible." leah agreed scrunching up her nose but still made no move to get off of you as you scoffed.

"god i feel sorry for your future wife having to put up with you, i'll be sure to give her a medal." you rolled your eyes as the skipper grinned, kissing your cheek with a loud mwah and letting go of you.

"leah!" you shot her a glare as she whipped you with her towel once you'd stood and started to walk back to the showers. "wasn't me!" the blonde shrugged tossing her towel back into her cubby. "oh yes i suppose it was casper the friendly footballer ghost was it?" your voice dripped with sarcasm.

"must have been. i'll chat to the staff, get them to give the place a good cleansing! cheeky little thing he is." leah tutted swatting at the air as if to ward off bad spirits as you couldn't help but smile.

"you are such a child." you stripped off your jersey and tossed it so it landed on her head, the blonde peeling it off and staring after you with a grin.

"please let me meddle. they are disgustingly oblivious about how much they're in love, its been years now its killing me!" beth begged lia from the other side of the room who shook her head.

"no! they will figure it out on their own whenever they are ready." the swiss warned sternly, beths puppy dog eyes doing nothing as the blonde scowled and let out a huff.

"nah im backin beth here. they just need a good kick up the arse to realise!" katie wandered over as beth gave lia a pleading look who once more shook her head. "viv, help me out?" she looked to the dutchie who backed up her point making beth groan again.

"look! case in point leahs been ready to leave for ages, but she's clearly just waiting around for her even though they drove separately. they're probably off for one of their little movie night sleepovers none of us are ever invited to." beth rolled her eyes.

"probably. but thats their choice, you don't get to meddle and mess about and stick your noses into their personal relationship whatever it may be. let nature run its course!" lia warned sternly again before bidding all three girls goodbye, wandering over to hug leah goodbye.

"you're not leaving yet?" lia questioned as they broke apart, the blonde bouncing her knee as she twirled her keys around on her finger. "nah, movie night. gotta give that one a proper education on the historical importance of prime english cinema!" leah yelled the last few words in your direction as you appeared now showered and changed, flipping her off.

lia leaving you waved her off and grabbed your things, kicking away leah who poked and prodded at you impatiently whining that she was hungry and you needed to hurry up.

eventually the two of you exited the change rooms without even sparing anyone else a glance, leahs arm draped over your shoulder as the two of you started to argue what movie you were going to watch first.

"see? hopeless." "love really is blind!"

~

"what are those for!" leah asked wide eyed as you grabbed out a bag of asian greens from the freezer and rolled your eyes. "my dinner, you've got nuggets and roasties in the oven don't worry." you cooed mockingly, squeezing her cheeks between your fingers.

"thank god for that! here i was thinking you were tryin to poison me woman." leah breathed a sigh of relief, scowling as you teased the way her 'th' sounded like 'f'. "i told you to stop that its bullying!" leah huffed throwing a packet of crisps in your direction which you ducked.

"hey! no throwing my groceries williamson or you can start paying for them." you warned her as leah ooohed with a grin. "i'm so scared." leah drawled as you held up the spatula in your hand menacingly.

"better be, i'd kick your ass." "i think we've proven time and time again shorty that it is indeed me who is the kicker of ass between us." "thats because you cheat every single time we fight!" "no i do not i just utilise the element of surprise and the fact you are about half the size of a regular human being."

"oo its your mum!" leah perked up as your phone rang with an incoming facetime call, leah clicking accept and propping it up against a vase of flowers before you could even say a word.

"hello terri!" leah greeted happily with a smile as your mother eagerly greeted her back, the two having met a few times and talking often as leah and you were almost always in one anothers company.

"mum its like...nine in the morning in mebourne, what do you want?" you chuckled as leah wandered over, propping the phone up by the stove and standing beside you as you cooked.

"thats no way to speak to your mother! maybe she just misses her daughter who lives on the other side of the world now." leah pinched you making you squeal and punch her in the shoulder.

"see! leah gets it chicken." your mum laughed at your dynamic as leahs taller body leaned into yours, hugging you from behind. "yeah chicken." leah teased the nickname making you roll your eyes and threaten to throw out her dinner as she fell silent.

the three of you caught up as you cooked, leah remaining stuck to you throughout which wasn't anything new, the two of you always having had a very affectionate friendship.

in fact you'd always been quite a touchy person by nature so to you it wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

but when leah excused herself to use the bathroom and you'd pulled out her dinner and started to dish up, your mum flagged it. "you two are awfully cuddly tonight." the older woman spoke with a look you knew too well making you sigh.

"just friends with healthy habits of affection mum, you can stop now." you warned, your mum forever having had the habit of assuming any new person in your life you were secretly dating, despite your assurance that if you were dating someone she would not be meeting them until you were ready and as your partner, not a friend.

"okay im just saying it like i see it! shes a lovely girl, and you two seem very close." "we are mum, very close friends."

~

"yeah you should come visit next summer! i'll even teach you how to surf." you grinned to jacob whose face lit up, sat around the table with leah, her mum and brother for dinner a couple of days later.

noticing how homesick you were your first few weeks in england leah had quickly welcomed you into her own family in an attempt to mend that hole. taking you to weekly dinners or game nights much as you'd allow her to drag you along, her family nothing but kind to you the entire time you'd known them.

"wouldn't you need to know how to surf first?" leah questioned as you smacked her arm playfully. "least i don't look like i don't know how to swim." you teased, her grin dropping at the comment.

based around a tiktok trend kyra had made the statement the other day that leah looked like she used floaties when she swam, causing a cut that was very deep to the defenders pride.

"i can swim! you've seen me do it!" leahs fist banged down onto the table as you threw your head back laughing at how quickly she bit, jacob joining in as leah shot him a glare and stomped on his foot from across the table.

"alright alright! enough, leah you're on drying duty come on." amanda chuckled but broke up the bickering as leah looked ready to lunge at either one of you.

"what! i am a guest here, jacob can do it." leah protested but with a firm look from her mum got up from the table with a sigh, making a point to tug at your ear and smack the back of jacobs head before following after amanda into the kitchen.

"stop that mopey look if the wind changes you'll be stuck with it forever." her mum smiled in amusement handing leah another plate to dry, the english womans face turned downward into a sour frown as she heard you and jacobs laughter echo through from the living room.

"you know if i had to paint a picture of my ideal daughter in law she'd be the perfect muse." amanda started with a nod toward you in the other room, causing leahs head to whip up so fast it would have spun off if not connected to her neck.

"mum!" "what? she's a beautiful girl and an even more gorgeous person on the inside, surely you of all people can see that?" "well obviously but we're just friends. people can be friends and not in love with one another now mum its the twenty first century!" leahs voice dripped with sarcasm but her mum didn't miss the defensive edge to it either.

"whatever you say love. all im saying is you like to bang on and on about getting older and not wanting to miss out on the more domestic goals of life-" her mum held up a soapy hand to cut leah off as she tried to interrupt.

"-and here you are with the solution potentially right under your nose. you might not see it but the way you look at her...don't let a good thing pass you by baby girl." her mum warned and suddenly changed topics, leah frowning but not bothering to backtrack on the conversation.

the two of you were just friends, right?

[mtchacffinz]

loose lips sink ships!

prompt! you don't talk much when you're tipsy, but when you do..

content! gn!reader, drunk confession, heavy on fluff, mutual pining, drabble ficlet, short and sweet ♡

note! kaf is here again !! not much words from me right now, but i want to feed Dan Heng stans so here you go (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ love you ~

Dan Heng doesn't seem to mind going out once and a while. Of course, being closed off in one space could get suffocating even for someone like him who enjoys his time in solace. In a time where one needs at least a breath of fresh air, he knows more than well that it's time to get a new landscape to take in for the sake of himself.

He didn't expect that landscape to be you. The sight of you, on the Express counter, dazed.

You looked heavily flushed. You're eyes were unfocused and hazed. It didn't take even a moment of pondering for Dan Heng to know you were intoxicated and he wasn't about to ask why. Don't get him wrong, this man doesn't like to pry. As he approaches your figure, he observed you were quiet, as always— absorbed in your own little bubble universe. Making his way to the counters, the Trains kitchen always kept an abundance of food sources; he got you a glass of cold water.

Tapping onto your shoulder lightly, he hands you the glass. Delighted, you take it from him gleefully; giving the teal eyed prince your thanks. Dan Heng knows you don't talk much when you're tipsy. Times like this were pretty rare, he knows you don't usually drink.

The raven haired boy sits beside you silently, joining you in comfortable silence. On the occasional tap of your fingernails on the glass, he counts the minutes he's been spending with you. Stealing a glance from your figure, he notices your face was flushed in hues of heat. Slowly, your gaze found themselves to be locked with his — as Dan Heng can't seem to look away from.

"I'm not drunk, you know."

His eyes narrow at you ever so slightly. Humouring your antics, he voices out his own thoughts.

"How so?"

"I'm dreaming. I definitely am!" You say that so proudly, he can't help but curb a smile. He almost sighs, leaning towards the counter— letting his jaw rest on his palm. You continue your musings. "I can barely make out of anything. Hey, there's this local specialty I've been gifted in a world recently. Its so strong, i think I'm going to pass out."

Dan Heng's gaze never left yours, urging you to continue. Did you know? Aside from the calming splash of ocean waves, he loves listening to your voice. He loves hearing you ramble about every little thing you'd like to share.

"I'm not surprised if I passed out just recently, so I might be dreaming right now."

"So you mean to say I'm a figment of your subconscious." With that remark, you can't seem to refute. Thats what he at least thought. But no, you surprise him with your next words.

"You're still divine, even in dreams."

It wasn't related to his previous response at all. Dan Heng seems to be taken aback, his eyes slightly widening. Nevertheless, he purses his lips and let's you keep talking.

"Ah, you've stuck to me so deeply even if I can't see at the moment, you're perfectly fine to me.." a slight pout on your lips, you shake your head dismissively. "Dream Heng, let me tell you something ~" you coo sweetly, trying to attain his interest. Come closer, you beckon. A little reluctant, he leans into you, his ears at your disposal.

Dream Heng? So you really do believe you're asleep. What in the world did you ingest anyway?

You lean into his ear. He feels your hot breath on his cheeks, inciting that fluttering churn in his stomach. You're hand lay rest in his shoulder, while the other slightly caress his green earpiece.

"I really like your earring. Is it an earring? I don't know.. I'm not sure." You ponder out loud. Heat rushes up to his cheeks very quickly; not just from the close proximity, but from your sincere praise as well. "Your eyeliners really nice too. Can you apply mine?"

There was a reason, and he knew. Dan Heng knew why his heart fluttered, the mere fact of that is extremely conflicting. If he gets you involved in his life, and gets you tangled in this mess..

You pull away so suddenly, flushed. He inwardly deflates. It's embarrassing that he almost pulled you back just to have you near him. In Dan Hengs defense, it was a reflex.

"I've always wanted to ask you that, I'm embarrassed.." gushing, fanning your face. He blinks. Sitting straight up, his ears was still dusted with a cute hue of peony. Dan Heng clears his throat before you continue. "Dream Heng, you'd do that for me, would you? Please? Awwe, this is so nice! I feel like I can do everything with Dream Heng ~" your voice was so sweet. As you play around, you almost trip when you stand up.

Ah, the floor is like jelly right now, it feels like you're in a Donut. Dan Heng was quick to put you back on your feet.

"Be careful." he says softly. The boys hold on you was firm, making sure you don't stumble. God, you really we're drunk. There was an entirely new aroma somewhere, not of the usual beverage he knows. Maybe it's the new specialty you've dug out in a new world? Nevertheless, your hold on him was just the same. Tension was in the air, and you were about to make a move on it.

Dan Heng's teal woven eyes slowly travels to your lips. Was it conscious cognition? Maybe, maybe not. But the dark haired prince knew you saw, and you weren't about to let go.

"You can kiss me. I really like you, so it's fine." His breath hitches, face brightening up with brilliant red. You say that with no reluctance, non-existent restraint, and with a grin so shameless! Of courses, he admits— he wants to! But he j can't. He just can't! In a attempt to collect himself, Dan Heng gives himself a pause.

After a few mere moments of him sulking, as you were completely oblivious to his internal crisis, he finally speaks.

"You.. like me?" Dan Heng asks, slowly. He swallows thickly. His voice lingered in your head— echoing his heartbeat. Was it his? No, maybe it was yours. You don't know!

"Hmm? I do." That seemed to flip something in him. Oh, he wants to keep hearing you say this. But at the same time, there's something crawling in his back. It watches him like a hawk and it gets under his skin— but before he could say something, you cut him off.

"Hmmm. Even Dream Heng can't kiss me in my dreams. How could I ever get with a real one?" you sigh, breathless. It came out more like a soft whine. What? Eyes avoidant of his, you go about your way of immersing in your own thoughts. Maybe you didn't have thoughts at all, just zoning out. Dan Heng holds you closer this time.

Suddenly, the so-called ice prince lifts you up into his arms, carrying you effortlessly. Surprised, you let out a yelp. Eyes averting yours, even if you're in his confinement, he disallows you to see his face. You can't help but think what's up with him?

"I can't." he says sternly; like there was no room for discussion. How could he? How could he when you're at your most vulnerable? Your thoughts may be distorted, and maybe it's feeding you these untrue and conflicting feelings.

What if he got this all wrong?

He'd prefer if you flirt with him sober.

"But what I can do is to let you get rest."

Upon hearing that, you quickly protest, trying to get out of his hold. "What? No! If I sleep here, I'd wake up pissed. Imagine sleeping in luxury and waking up in an alley way! Just put me on the floor. I'll wake up soon."

He shakes his head in disagreement, only holding you closer. "You'll be fine. I promise. If your real Dan Heng wouldn't lie to you, how could I be any different?" Dan Heng says this so calmly— as if it was natural. His words were truthful, and he could only wish you knew. He would never deceive you— Dan Heng would never dare take advantage of you.

You swore your heart leaped. Are you in it so deep your brain creates these fantastic fantasies? You've always loved his sincere attitude, as well as his considerate nature. Dan Heng was always a man of his words, rationalizing every bit for the sake of his dear ones and himself. As your thoughts for on, only before then your eyelids start to feel heavy. Drooping sleepily, your hands lay on your sides, snuggling to his body heat closely.

After that, all left was darkness.

He's genuinely such a sweet guy, even if you get to read his messages. I want to eat him like a cupcake (⁠●⁠’⁠3⁠)⁠♡⁠(⁠ε⁠`⁠●⁠)

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

Hello, sweetheart! I was wondering if you could do Alastor with an overlord reader? I was imagining reader having water based abilities and a blue theme to them! I also imagined the reader being a lot shorter than him (cause he’s like 7 feet tall).Like how would he react to reader being able to summon a tsunami and drowning a bunch of sinners, but being an absolute sweetheart at the same time! Please ignore this if you feel uncomfortable!

~Angel <3

hi angel!!! i can totally do that! thank you for your request and your patience on this!!!

i would love to do this! i’m doing this more in a head cannon/ficlet format, but i may come back to this to make a full fic.

i hope you enjoy!! ☺️

alastor first noticed how short you were. you were tiny

at least to him.

but he’s like 7 feet tall and you kept your human height of 5’2 when you descended to hell.

the second thing that he noticed were you were completely opposite of him

your color palette, your disposition and even the way you spoke were all opposites.

you had a mainly blue color palette. your hair was long and blue, your outfit flowy and not really structured, your eyes were the red that overlords though

you were rumored to be powerful but alastor had never seen any display of your power

you were happy and kind of go lucky, you and charlie were almost like two peas in a pod.

that was until one day, someone threatened the hotel and he wasn’t there.

Idiot sinners who thought they could beat the radio demon

it was the thought that if the radio demon wasn’t there, it would be fine as no one took charlie seriously.

and you wouldn’t let her dirty her hands on these… cretins

The fire balls soared through as they called out for Alastor. Everyone was running around trying to put out the fires and Alastor wasn’t around. He was in Cannibal Town today visiting Rosie. You sighed and closed your eyes. You made your way to the front ignoring the calls of your name and to watch out. You raised your hands and a shield of water surrounded the hotel. You walked out and stared at the sinners.

“Who are you bitch?” One asked. Looking there seemed to be about 30 sinners who made up this party.

“Yeah! Where’s Alastor?” Another asked, raising a molotov cocktail and getting ready to light it.

“Look, gentleman, why don’t you go back to wherever you came from and we can forget this ever happened.” You say, looking at all of them. There’s a beat of silence and then they all start laughing. You look annoyed and the one who seemed to be the leader spat at your feet.

“Like hell, bitch. Be a good girl and get Alastor.” He said laughing again.

“Oh, you’ll wish you got Alastor.” You said, bringing your hands together and then throwing them in a down motion to the ground. Suddenly chains appeared on all of the sinners. Their eyes widened and the leader started to struggle. You smiled as you reached your hand towards him and he flinched thinking you were going to grab him, but then all of a sudden you closed your fist. The group looked at you confused until the water that held them where they were at started to boil.

You raised your left hand up and the boiling water started to encase their legs slowly. You looked at the leader and smiled.

“Wanna make a deal? I’ll end this pain right now, you give me your soul, never come to this hotel again and are at my beck and call whenever I feel like it. You will do anything I ask of you. Do we have a deal?” You grinned as he cried out his confirmation.

You stopped the water from boiling and proceeded to make the same deal with all 30 sinners, they scampered off afterwards and you let down the shield on the hotel. You looked to your left and saw Alastor there, his eyes wide and his grip on his cane tight. Rosie next to him, grinning.

“Oh hey!” You said nonchalantly.

alastor is enamored

you a little thing so sadistic that you get 30 sinners to make a deal with you at once?

he’s not sure if he truly feels threatened or admired you.

rosie adores you

you shock alastor again when another group of sinners come to the hotel and you don’t even walk outside

the only thing heard is a rumbling, a crash and then quiet. everyone looks outside and sees a tsunami drowning a larger group of sinners than before.

everyone looks at you sitting at the bar, complimenting pentious’ drawing and him beaming at your compliments

you were such a sweetheart but you were terrifying

[mia-ugly]

In honour of Good Omens Season 2

HAVE A SLOW SHOW FICLET with thanks to @weatheredlaw for the amazing graphic ❤️❤️❤️ how we doing fam

It’s a kid on set that first tells him. 

Not really a kid, but anyone less than thirty seems a kid to him these days (ugh, that’s a loathsome thought.) Jiyana’s a queer and pink-haired punk type, rainbow pin on their jacket, trans-pride flag tattooed on their inner wrist. The first time he met them, the whole wirey confident glittery thing made his gut clench with - what was it - joy and gratitude but also envy? Maybe? (because what must it be like to be that young and that certain of yourself? What must it be like to have the whole world open in front of you? Not that there still isn’t a lot of shit to deal with, and in Merry Old fucking England there is More Shit than Otherwise, but. Still. It’s something Crowley thinks about. Sometimes. When he hasn’t had enough sleep or when he’s had too much of it.)

The kid came up to him Day One to mumble about “being a big fan” and once they wore a Warlock t-shirt to an afterparty (“Vintage!” they said cheerily, and Crowley wanted to swallow his own face at the thought of something from the 2010s being considered vintage, good Christ.)

Anyway, Jiyana tells him first.

“Congrats on the new season!” They’re beside him in the makeup trailer. Crowley doesn’t realise they’re talking to him, assumes they’re wearing AirPods or something, until George gives him a nudge with the powder puff.

“Er, yeah, cheers.” It’s too early to talk to anyone this perky. Then his exhausted, coffee-less brain takes a moment to catch up with his exhausted, coffee-less mouth. “Er, wait, what?”

“Warlock. Heard it’s coming back. Did I tell you I wrote a paper on it in, like, Grade 10? So cool, the GSA at my highschool used to have watch parties, I can’t wait to see what they do with your -“

“Wait -“ Warlock? It’s been bloody years. “Where’d you hear this?”

The kid starts to list off some sites or social media whatsits that Crowley has never heard of, so he just nods and pretends to understand, the same way he does when Az’s niece tries to explain some show called “Jojo’s Big Adventure” or something. Validate, validate, empathise. Just like Pepper taught him.

It’s probably nothing right? A rumour.

But it’s a rumour Az has heard too.

When Crowley gets home that night (they’ve rented a house in Buckinghamshire, even though the studio’s not two hours from their cottage) Az is on him immediately. Heard about it from his sister apparently, who got the news from one of the kids.

“Isn’t that exciting?” His face is all lit up and his hair is wet, bathrobe snugly belted around his waist. The house has an indoor pool, and there are little indents on Avery’s nose where his extremely attractive and sexy swimming-goggles must have been resting.

Crowley presses his lips to each mark.

“Not that we’ve been going hungry or wanting for work –” Az continues.

“You work too bloody much,” Crowley murmurs into his cheekbone.

“But I do love those characters. The whole thing wrapped up so nicely though – what more is there to tell?  I wonder what the arc could possibly be.”

“I wonder what you’ve got on under this robe –”

“Anthony!” Az laughs in fake protest, tilting his head back so that Crowley can get his mouth on his throat. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Az tastes like chlorine, and maybe Crowley should join him in the shower after this. After a day in the studio, he could probably use it.

“Would you really want to do a series again?” Crowley asks after he’s finally let his husband go, turned to hang up his coat and thrown his bag on the nearest chair. “Awful lot of commitment. And you’ve that whole run at the Globe coming up, don’t rehearsals start in the spring?”

“We’ll have to see if Helen can mind the goats again while we’re in London.” Az has wandered into the kitchen, turned on the kettle. Crowley looks at the back of his neck (Crowley always looks at the back of his neck. Sometimes he dreams about it.) “If she’s free. I called her this morning to check in, Elmyra’s eating, so her anxiety must be getting better.”

“Cool, yeah,” Crowley says, casual and nonchalant and no big deal. As if Elmyra isn’t his favourite of the bunch and he doesn’t have a song that he made up and no one knows that he sings just to her. As if he didn’t hand feed her all night once because she wasn’t sleeping or eating and neither was he because he was so afraid this tiny rescue goat was going to starve to death, anyway whatever, super cool, who cares. “Is it weird that no one’s reached out to us, though? Do you think?”

“About the goats? Helen has my number –”

“No love, the Warlock thing.”

Az blinks at him, flutters his pretty blond lashes in an attractive, aggrieved sort of way. “You mean you haven’t heard from Beez?”

“I haven’t heard from anyone.”

“Oh.” Az thinks it over. “Well. Neither have I, actually. Do you – is that odd?”

“Maybe they’ve recast us with younger models.”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“Gotta up the sex appeal of the whole thing. Jawlines. Cheekbones. Sexy results.”

“I –” Az goes a bit pink. Glances at Crowley and then away. “Fail to see how they could improve upon perfection.”

Crowley looks at his husband’s bathrobe and the slight scattering of silver chest hair and his hand on his tea cup and fuck off, his neck. His neck, his neck, who gives a shit about Warlock actually?

 “Come over here and say that to my mouth.”

Avery smiles, and sighs, and he does.

ONE YEAR LATER:

Crowley opens the email from Beez.

He fuckin' closes it.

[merrybloomwrites]

Spencer Agnew - My Favorite Pizza Oven

Summary: Spencer and Y/N spend a weekend babysitting Courtney and Shayne's son.

Word Count: 728

AN: Welcome to the first of 9 weeks of ficlets! Come back every Thursday for a little fic of Reader x Smosh! Most are Spencer x Reader but there will be a couple Ian x Reader and Damien x Reader as well!

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

When Courtney came up to you and asked if you and Spencer could watch her and Shayne’s son for a couple nights so they could go on vacation you immediately said yes. 

“Shouldn’t you check if Spencer is on board?” She asked. 

“Trust me, he’ll be on board,” you replied. You and your boyfriend had watched Ryan for a night a few months ago. Spencer had been asking for weeks when you thought the two of you might be able to babysit again. 

“Thank you so much! I’ll text you with the details.”

“Perfect! I’m looking forward to it!” 

“That’s because he’s always a little angel for Auntie Y/N and Uncle Spencer,” she said. 

“Because we absolutely spoil him and say yes to pretty much whatever he wants,” you replied with a laugh. “It’s our right as aunt and uncle!” You add and she conceded, joining in on your laughter. 

Later that night, when you filled Spencer in on your conversation with Courtney he got super excited and started listing all the activities he was hoping to do throughout the weekend with Ryan.

You just listened and sighed, hoping Spencer would behave and you wouldn’t have to rein in two excitable children. 

A couple days before your babysitting duties were set to begin, you and Spencer made a trip to Target after work to stock up on a few things for your home. You’d split up, wanting to get done quickly since it was getting late.

You always worry a bit about sending Spencer out on his own, never knowing what he’ll return with, and your fears are often valid. This time was no exception.

When you met back up, he was carrying a basket with the items on his list, as well as a Play Doh pizza oven set. 

“Are you thinking of getting into crafting now?” you asked, skeptically eyeing the item.

“It’s for Ryan!” he replied. “Shayne said he’s really into play-doh lately so I thought he might enjoy it. And I figured coming in with a new toy might help him be excited for a weekend with us, rather than sad that his parents are leaving.”

“That’s a really good idea,” you replied. You gave Spencer a fond look, as you’re reminded once again how thoughtful this man is. Even after years together you continue to fall more in love with him. Even while standing in the middle of a Target on a Wednesday night.

Two days later you arrived at Shayne and Courtney’s home with your overnight bags, prepared for a weekend of babysitting. Courtney went over all the instructions again, and finally you sent the two on their way to enjoy some time alone. 

As predicted, Ryan was a bit upset seeing his mom and dad leave, but Spencer quickly stepped in and showed him the new toy. It worked like a charm, and the two boys made lots of creations together.

Even better was the moment when dinner arrived. After making plenty of pretend pizzas, Ryan was ecstatic to see they’d be eating real pizza for dinner too! 

The weekend went smoothly, and that plastic pizza oven went everywhere Ryan went. Including the playground. He was truly obsessed. 

“I love this pizza oven!” he exclaimed during breakfast Sunday morning. “It’s my favorite!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he reminded you so much of his dad in that moment. You had come up with a plan, a perfect way for Ryan to greet his parents when they got back home. 

A couple hours later, when Courtney and Shayne walked in the front door, Ryan had run up to them, new toy in hand.

“Hey buddy! I missed you,” Shayne said, hugging his son tight. “What’s that you got there?”

“It’s from Auntie Y/N and Uncle Spencer! It’s my favorite pizza oven!” All the adults began to laugh, as Ryan practically quoted one of his father's most famous lines.

Later that night, when you and Spencer were back home having dinner, you couldn’t help but think back on the weekend, and how wonderful your boyfriend was with the little guy. Your mind imagined what your future will be like, when you and Spencer have a little one of your own. One look at him told you he was thinking the same thing, and you knew you’d picked a good one.

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

AN: Thanks so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and can't wait to share more with you!

[luveline]

hi jade!! i love eddie and roan always, can we get a ficlet from their earlier days where roan is smaller. just whatever you want to write about, thanks love you💖

Eddie isn’t sure how you’ve ended up like this, but he’ll take it. He’s never laid in someone’s lap, at least not with a girl he was dating, never had someone like him enough to start scratching his back of their own volition. You draw sweetly gentle lines up and down the length of him with your nails, never pausing, an automatic expression of love. 

He’s pathetic, pressing his face to your stomach. He really hopes you love him. 

“Can I sleepover?” you whisper. 

“You can move in,” he mumbles. 

“You shouldn’t flirt so much.” Your hand climbs up to his hair, where you continue your awful lovely scratching. “Can I have a kiss?” 

You shouldn’t be allowed to whisper like that. Eddie turns his face away from your stomach and lifts his chin. He’s spoiled —you lean down and kiss him. He doesn’t do any of the hard work. 

“Daddy?” 

Eddie touches your face and finally forces himself to sit up. “Ro?” 

She’s wearing pyjamas you bought for her with good intention but misinformation, the legs pooling around her feet and the sleeves over her hands. Her smile showcases a row of pearly, baby teeth. She looks cute, but her hair is alarming. 

“What have you done?” Eddie asks, cringing. “Babe, are those stickles again?” 

“They’re stuck,” she says. She realises he’s alarmed and begins to panic, reaching up, “Oh no!” 

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, quickly burying his own emotions. He should’ve done so from the start, but you’d yanked his defences down and left him a slovenly mess from all your sweetness. Plus, it’s not like he’s the calmest guy in the world. “Baby, it’s fine. Come here, let me see.” 

“Wait,” she says tearfully. 

“Baby,” he says again, softer still, “come here, I’ll fix it. I promise.”

“Cross your heart?” she asks. 

Eddie pouts at her wobbly lip. “I cross my heart, Roanie. Just come sit down.” 

You squeeze his thigh with a distinct sense of pride, though he has no idea what he’s done. Roan drags herself to the couch and Eddie picks her up to sit her between your leg and his, getting a better look at the problem, red, green, and yellow stickle bricks lost in her hair. It’s not as bad as it seems closer up. 

He draws a line with tow of his knuckles across her shoulder. “It’s fine,” he says, kissing her cheek, “it’s okay, no biggie. I’ll go get a comb and we’ll brush them all out! Your beautiful hair will be fine.” 

“Thank you,” she says. 

You make a funny sound. “Aw, Ro.” You take a stickle brick into your hand carefully. “Can I help too?” 

“Please, please.” She turns her huge eyes on you and grabs your arm. “Please don’t pull.” 

“Never, babe.” 

You and Eddie take some time to pull the bricks from her hair, their tines like Velcro stuck between her dark curls. It takes ages, and she grows frustrated, but Eddie holds her hand in his and says, “Just be patient, sweetheart, you gotta wait,” while feeling especially tender. He forgets sometimes that she’s not his mini me after all, that her experiences of fear are fresh and new. “It’s going okay, Ro, it just takes ages.” 

“It’s hurting,” she whines. 

He doesn’t believe her, but maybe it is a little uncomfortable. “Do you want to take a break? You’ll have to stay really still.” 

“Please pull them out.” 

“Alright, babe.” He tucks his hair behind his ears. “Let’s do this.” 

Eventually, with Roan near tears and Eddie worried you’re overwhelmed, you untangle the three bricks from her hair and brush away the matted tangles. “Sooo silky,” you murmur, leading the comb down to her small shoulders. 

“I think we’re done. You are restored to your former glory, babe,” Eddie says. 

Roan lifts her hands up and feels along her head. “No bricks?” 

“Totally fixed.” 

Roan stands up on the couch. Eddie eyes her suspiciously, but she wraps her arms around him and kisses his cheek, reminiscent of how Eddie thanks her when she’s being good. “Thank you, dad.” 

He snorts. Roan beams at him and spins on her socked foot to hug you. You don’t get a kiss. You look overjoyed anyhow, quick to wrap her up and pat her back. “Thank you,” she says. 

“You’re welcome, princess.” You meet his eyes over her hair. “You’re more than welcome. No more stickles in your hair through, right?” 

“Right,” she says with an eager nod. 

Eddie shakes his head at you. This is the third time this month. 

[coloursflyaway]

Ok, so I’m a big fan of your dbda fics and I saw you were asking for prompts. I have 2, one of which is inspired by one of your reblogs.

1. Charles kisses Edwin at the worst possible time, maybe ending in them getting captured and Edwin giving him a lecture on “time and place”, Charles arguing with “you’re one to talk about time and place”, referring to the hell confession

2. Preferably very angsty, Charles wants to kiss Edwin to try and figure out if he feels the same way, and Edwin stops him, saying something along the lines of “if we did kiss and you didn’t feel the same way I don’t think I could bear it”

Obviously no pressure to write either of them, but I would love to see how you would develop these ideas more.

Hiii, thank you so much for these ♥♥♥

I'm keeping the second one for later, because I really like that, but here's a little ficlet for the first prompt!

It’s not like Charles plans it to go like this, is it?

In fact, he isn’t sure if he could plan it like this if he tried, he’s not sure if anyone could.

It’s just something that happens, because, to be honest, it was always bound to happen at some point, and it’s not Charles fault that Edwin, well. Stood there. Looking so pretty with his perfectly coiffed hair and his kind eyes and high cheekbones.

Not even the look of slight exasperation had detracted from how much of a vision he looked, maybe because Charles has gotten more than used to it in the thirty-odd years they have known each other.

(He knows exactly how many years it’s been, how many months and days too, could probably reconstruct it down to the hour, but that gets to be his little secret, only admired sometimes in dark nights and especially bright mornings, when Edwin is reading or doing research or concentrating on something else enough that the tip of his tongue peaks out between his plush, pink lips.)

And Charles didn’t decide to take a step towards him, just like he hadn’t decided to reach up and put one hand on Edwin’s cheek, feeling the sudden breath Edwin had taken.

Two decades ago, Charles had persuaded Edwin to try breathing again, at least occasionally, as a little luxury, a little treat, and it still makes him smile to see Edwin do it, made him smile in that moment, too, and maybe that had been a decision.

But leaning in and kissing Edwin, that hadn’t been a choice at all.

Just something he had to do in that moment, because there was a little smudge of chalk on the edge of Edwin’s jaw, because Edwin had looked at him and behind and around and between the exasperation, he had looked so fond.

And Charles had thought, he loves me, and then, I love him, too.

What other choice did he have than kiss that love onto Edwin’s lips?

Only that when he pulls back, a smile on his lips and, if possible, even more love in his heart, Edwin is looking him with wide eyes and his lips kissed pink, but not curved, not smiling.

“Charles”, he starts, and Charles isn’t certain he has heard this tone in his voice before; it makes him giddy to think that this is something brand new he gets to find out about his favourite person in the world. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry”, Charles starts out of habit, then stops himself, brow furrowing. “Actually, no, I’m not sorry at all. That was great and I’ll do it again. And again.”

He grins at Edwin, happiness bubbling in his chest until he feels like he’s bursting; a sound drips from Edwin’s lips, something in between a gasp and a whine.

“There’s a time and a place-”, he begins a speech Charles has heard before, and it’s so easy to interrupt him this time, because Charles usually doesn’t mind the scolding, but there’s more important things right now, like kissing Edwin again.

“You mean, like not in the middle of summoning a demon? Yeah, maybe. But I’m not sure if you really get to talk about times and places. At least it’s not on the stairway to Hell, is it?”

And Edwin’s eyes widen even more, if that is possible, and not that Charles doubted it before, but God, he really does love him.

Without thinking, he moves his thumb to wipe the chalk from Edwin’s skin, and Edwin sucks in a breath, then, with the quietest, most hopeful voice, asks, “You do mean it, don’t you? You’re sure? This isn’t just a-”

“Of course I mean it”, Charles cuts him off, before Edwin can say anything else, can think that Charles might not be serious about this for a moment longer. “Have never meant anything more than this.”

Another breath, one that Charles can almost feel against his skin, and Edwin nods.

“Maybe, then, after the demon, we could-”, he starts, but doesn’t get to finish this sentence either.

“Sod the demon”, Charles says, and means it.

This time, when he kisses Edwin, it’s a choice, and it’s the best one he’s ever made.

[aurumacadicus]

i'm not sure if tumblr is lying to me or not about when you responded to my ask but i only just got the notification for it, so. if you're still doing the 1-161 stony ficlet challenge, can i request 123 if that one hasn't also been taken? ps i'm really loving the ones you've posted so far, they're great! <3

Thanks! It's been a lot of fun!

--

Steve grit his teeth as Tony carefully, casually prodded his thigh with the toe of his left foot again. They were fighting, and he couldn't tell if this was an olive branch or a deliberate attempt to make him lose his cool.

They didn't fight often. They argued a lot, of course. He and Tony both had very strong personalities, and they also had very strong opinions. More difficult still, Steve was from a different time, and while he'd made great strides in acclimating himself to the time (and while Tony had been very patient as he learned) some things he said and believed still had them butting heads sometimes.

Tony prodded his thigh again, and Steve sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He would not give Tony the satisfaction of reacting.

"I'm not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention," Tony finally declared, prodding him again.

"We are fighting and I'm still mad at you," Steve answered curtly, looking back down at his book. He figured that was attention enough, with the mood he was in and their fight still hovering at the edges of their conversations.

The ball of Tony's foot stayed pressed to his thigh a moment longer before he slowly drew it back. "Oh. Sorry."

Steve slanted his gaze over at that, brows furrowing together at the tone of Tony's voice. It was the one he used when he knew he'd misstepped but didn't understand why. He looked genuinely upset before his emotional shutters came back down as he returned his gaze to his tablet. He pulled his feet in closer, tucking himself tighter into the corner of the couch.

Steve watched him, considering, then carefully asked, "We... are still fighting, aren't we?"

"Of course. Obviously," Tony scoffed, prodding at his screen a little harder than he usually might.

Steve waited a beat, but Tony didn't plow on like he usually did when he was angry. He'd had no problem shouting for hours yesterday, but Steve had no doubt he'd come up with new things to shout if he was still very upset. He cast around his mind for what Tony's sudden change in heart and remembered, frowning, that Colonel Rhodes had huffed out a frustrated, 'well, his parents never apologized to each other, at least not in front of him, so he thinks fights just stop eventually and you carry on as usual.'

Tony must have just been... ready for things to carry on as usual. Steve set his book in his lap and sighed again, tipping his head against the back of the couch. He'd been the second one to sit down on the couch. Tony must have thought that was an olive branch. And maybe it had been, he realized, turning to look at Tony again. Maybe, unconsciously, he'd been ready to end the fight, too. But not like Tony wanted, where they simply stopped talking about it and returned to life as normal.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, because he was. His ma always said it took two people to fight, after all.

Tony prodded at his tablet a couple more times, then turned his head a little, peering at him out of the corner of his eye. "...For what?" he finally asked, skeptical.

"For fighting," Steve answered simply. He'd learned early on that if he said too much, Tony would have more to read into.

Tony turned his head away, then looked back at him, eyes narrowed. "...I'm... sorry... too," he finally said, slowly, like he was waiting for Steve to spring some sort of trap after each word.

It hurt a little, Steve could admit to himself. But luckily, he'd learned that it wasn't his own shortcomings as a boyfriend that caused Tony to be suspicious of something he thought was a good thing; the lists of people who had hurt Tony in the past were all available online, after all. Not necessarily under that label, but Steve was pretty good at reading between the lines.

And it was a step in the right direction, Steve figured. Acknowledging their wrongs to each other was certainly better than just letting them go unsaid. They could have a discussion about it later, when the hurt wasn't so fresh and they had time to decompress.

Until then, Steve reached out to grab Tony's ankle and drag his leg back out, and Tony squawked as he was pulled across the cushions. "C'mere."

"Brute!" Tony howled, trying to claw his way back across the couch, but Steve's grip on his leg was immovable. "Stop fucking dragging me everywhere you want me, you neanderthal, I--"

"You what?" Steve asked, flipping him easily, and immediately dug his thumbs into Tony's arch, exactly where he knew Tony got sorest. Tony let out a moan, and Steve knew he had won, at least for the moment.

[rainbowcaleb]

FICLET FRIDAY : Hot boi by the sea

Prompt: summer vacation | Rating: T | Pairing: shadowgast | WIP, currently 2400 words

A/N : I rediscovered this fic from June last year and have been finishing it for posting! Enjoy this longer snippet from the middle of the fic…

“But you! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear so little clothes!” She gestures at his outfit, the black linen sleeveless top and loose plum silk trousers.

“Oh, Light.” Essek mutters and uses his free hand to shift the wrap of his shirt a little more closed. His clothes suddenly feel so scandalous, despite being practically required for this coastal heat.

“Oh no, nonono, I’m sorry Essie, I didn’t mean to make you feel all self conscious, but is it really such a bad thing to be a little ogled at?” Jester looks so earnest that Essek feels compelled to answer.

“It is because you are right; it has easily been decades since I’ve worn such garments in public. I may have been a child last. You all have certainly…relaxed me, but I think my comfort level still has legs to stretch.”

Caleb’s hand is back, now brushing against his shoulder, still so careful to touch what is still covered in fabric. “If you’d like, I have a spare shirt packed, if you wish for another layer.”

“No.” Essek says firmly. “Thank you. I think perhaps the challenge is good for me. I would like to see the ocean, and partake in –what was it Jester?– the local iced poles.”

“Pops, but yes Essek!” She snaps the fingers of her free hand. “It’s hot boi summer, let yourself look hot!” She leans forward enough to catch Caleb’s eye on Essek’s other side. “Even Caleb agrees.”

“Ja, I—” He starts, mouth making a couple silent word attempts before continuing. Then he stands straighter. “Yes. Yes, Jester is right. Your chosen outfit is quite…” He trails off, eyes caught in the sheen of Essek’s pants and looking completely lost for correct words.

“You. Two. Are. Dating.” Jester sighs with the gusto of an elephant trumpet. “At some point you’ll see each others’ dicks so you should really stop blushing over clothes. Unless you have doodley-dooed already and you’re trying to throw me off?”

“Jester!” Essek’s sounds are the squeaking mouse to Jester’s elephant. “We, no, what we do is between us–”

Caleb, despite being tomato red, replies in a fairly reasonable tone. “You are one of our closest friends, but there are some things that will stay between us. For explanation, I was simply…flipping through my mental dictionary and coming up short.”

“Hot boi.” Jester rolls her eyes. “It’s his nickname for a reason.”

“You do look—” Caleb gives him a radiant grin, the bastard. “Very hot.”

Essek wants to bury his face in the inside of his robes, but alas his robes are absent and his shirt is far too low cut. “Thank you Caleb, I think you do too.”

“What, this?” He gestures at his open white shirt, offering a lovely view of bare chest and chest hair, and thigh length linen shorts. “You should see my swimsuit.”

Jester breaks out into a giggle and then quickly tries to stifle herself. Essek and Caleb share a look; it certainly sounds like there is mischief afoot.

“Blueberry.” Essek lets the word roll around his tongue, trying out the nickname. Jester looks at him delighted. “Speaking of swimming, we have been walking for quite a while and have yet to reach any sight of shore. I kindly ask again, this is a tourist town by the sea, correct?”

[ghcstao3]

drabble? fic? ficlet? i barely know the distinction atp. ghostsoap (ish), 1.1k words, on y va !

-

Soap is the proud owner of an asshole cat.

This cat—a Ragdoll named Precious, of all things—only tolerates three people in her life, and even that’s a stretch: Soap, is one of the obvious, and both Soap’s parents because that’s who she stays with while he’s away for work.

Now, Soap loves Precious. Sure, she can be mean sometimes and has left him with a few scratches, but those were just because he hadn’t respected her wishes to be left alone, obviously—because maybe an hour following those sorts of incidents, they’re back to cuddling, and Soap is back to cooing at her and giving her treats just because a particular meow sounded cute. He treats Precious like his child, and whenever he’s on leave that cat gets spoiled.

Unfortunately, however, he’s had previous partners complain about Precious just because she always swatted at them, or because she’d hissed every time they attempted to pet her without ever approaching the way strangers should—but in the end, who got to stick around? Certainly none of Soap’s exes. And that gets Soap thinking if he had to choose, Precious would always come first. It has him realizing that maybe he wouldn’t ever have a partner because of it, but he decides that’s alright. Precious is all he needs for companionship.

Soap is also the less-proud brother of two rather nosy sisters.

Usually the chain of information about Soap is passed in one way: Soap’s older sister pries something out of him, tells that something to their mother, and his youngest sister easily gets that something from their mother because she still lives with their parents. His father is often out of the loop, or tied somewhere in the chain with Soap’s little sister, and thank God for small mercies.

But regardless, nothing gets past anyone, and that’s how one of the biggest domino effects of Soap’s recent life is set off.

Back to the cat.

Even though Soap had long since decided that he wouldn’t ever need a partner, and may never end up with one, he is willing to try one last time with his lieutenant. It’s a long story with lots of rule bending, and the most awkward confession spoken by man on Soap’s part—but by the time Soap ventures to introduce Ghost to Precious for the first time, he thinks he may already be in love.

He’s nervous, though. Because he’s never wanted a relationship to work out so badly before, and if Ghost doesn’t like Precious, or wouldn’t be willing to learn to live with her and her flaws, then Soap will be more than a little heartbroken.

Then a miracle happens. Or maybe less so a miracle and more so Precious deciding for Soap that he’s found The One. Because Precious warms up to Ghost immediately, which is saying something considering it took Soap himself a while to earn her trust. But Ghost? Precious takes one sniff at his hand and essentially declares him to be her new favourite (not that she really had one of those before).

In all, this series of events ends up with Soap’s only photo of Ghost unmasked on his phone, amidst photos of the 141 and Precious and various places he’s been, when one afternoon on leave he witnesses Ghost napping on the couch with Precious comfortably curled up on his stomach, the two of them snoring like motors. Ghost never finds out about the image, Soap forgets about it, then his older sister reenters the picture and reminds him while also becoming the reason Soap’s family finds out that he’s finally dating again.

He was going to tell them. Just not yet, is all. He’d been waiting on the right time, or something like that.

Soap is on leave alone for the first time in a while. His sister pays him a visit, asks to see something on his phone, and because he’d only been half-listening, Soap thinks nothing of it to hand it over.

This is his first mistake, and, really, the trigger event to the worst month of his life by way of exasperated berating from his mother and a bombardment of questions from everyone else.

“John?”

“Hm?”

“Who’s this?”

Soap looks up from the book he’d been half-heartedly reading to have his phone shoved in his face with the photo of Ghost and Precious napping on the screen. His stomach drops.

“He—uh.” Soap blanks. He doesn’t want to tell the truth, but knows the lie about to leave his mouth would be anything but convincing. “A one-night stand.”

His sister raises her eyebrows, entirely unimpressed. “You take pictures of your one-night stands?”

Soap shrugs helplessly, fingers curling tighter around his book as he tries to casually look anywhere but the image. “Thought he looked cute? Y’ken how Precious is with people.”

“Not buyin’ it,” she says. She pulls the phone away and scrutinizes the screen herself, zooming into something, then scrolling to something else. “He is cute, though.”

“Can you just—“ Soap attempts to swipe his phone back, but she raises her arm before he can. He scowls and sets his book down. “Please give me my phone back.”

“Not ‘til you tell me who he is.”

Soap groans, scrubs at his face with the heels of his palms. Having a sister is the worst. He can’t imagine how this would go if they’d both been here.

“He’s…” Soap sighs, shoulders sagging. He grumbles, “We’re dating.”

“How long?”

“Six months.”

The gasp his sister lets out makes it sound like he’d just told her someone died. He’s then left to answer a million-and-one questions about Ghost, accidentally reveals that he is, in fact, dating the lieutenant he’d been non-stop pining over for far too long, and is eventually threatened to invite Ghost to Christmas dinner that year, “or else.”

He goes through the same thing with his mother two weeks later, once the chain has been started up again. And Ghost, the bastard, has the audacity to laugh. He just thinks it’s so funny the verbal ass-beating Soap gets over the phone until the call ends and Soap shows Ghost the reason this was all happening. Tells him he snores, too. And loud. It puts Ghost in the defensive long enough for Soap to feel a little less miserable about the whole situation, and gives him time to think about how he’s going to ask Ghost to come home with him for the holidays in a few months.

All because Soap is the proud owner of an asshole cat, the less-proud brother of nosy sisters, and the very-proud boyfriend of the best man he’s ever known.

Soap is definitely going to buy Precious some expensive treats the next time he’s home.

[theotherbuckley]

Inspired by @thatmexisaurusrex

New ask game! Please recommend at least three of your favorite BuckTommy fic authors, artists, meta writers, gif makers, or edit makers. Maybe sing their praises a bit if you'd like. And if you want to, send this to a few other people and spread the good vibes 🥰

Oooo I love spreading positivity!!! Thanks so much for the ask 🫶🏽

Artists: there are SO MANY talented artists out there so I will tag @buffaluff soo many incredible drawings and paintings Buff is so amazing @bigfootsmom Molly has the most perfect drawings including Bucktommy girl dads which is so cute and I love it so much! @iinryer is so talented and draws the most amazing drawings @macaronimars has some really cute art I love @pirrusstuff Pirru has some of the cutest drawings!! @tommys-wings has some incredible art too! There’s one piece of Buck and Tommy kissing in the rain which is so gorgeous I love it! I know there are many other blogs with some incredible art too that I just can’t think of right now!

Gif makers: so many gifs we are so lucky! @xofemeraldstars always has the best gifs and frames of the day are my favourite. @buckera-backup Newbie always has amazing gifs but if currently in the process of getting their account back :/ can’t forget @sunglassesmish always has amazing gifs too!! There’s so many others but once again they seem to be evading me!

Fic writers: oh there are SO MANY. Here’s some: @thatmexisaurusrex who started this ask game has some of the BEST long form bucktommy fics. You can not go wrong with them! @typicalopposite made me cry with their breakup/makeup bucktommy fic “everytime i try to fly (i fall)” @snarkythewoecrow has some incredible fics and has betad my fics in the past they’re amazing 🫶🏽🫶🏽 @wikiangela also has some of the most perfect bucktommy fics just ahh incredible amazing no notes @bidisasterevankinard starting shipping bucktommy before season 7 started so they’re an OG and their fics are perfect (especially if you want spicy) @princessfbi you can never ever ever go wrong with her fics she is such an amazing writer both ficlets and long form I love her writing so so much @diazsdimples is my bestie who writes amazing fics especially dad fics!! He recently wrote piece of bucktommy dads to a bunch of kids that I drew a picture for! @perfectlysunny02 is another fantastic writer especially if you’re looking for some shorter and still perfect bucktommy fics! @firewasabeast has some amazingggggg fics!! Their tumblr ficlets are actually my fav and always bring out so many emotions I love it! @userautumn has some ammmmmazzzzzing fics of all shapes and sizes! @rosetterer has some incredible fics too “something, everything” was one of my favourite fics it was so adorable and perfect. @devirnis you want good smut? Ali is your girl she is so good at it 🔥 okay wow that’s a lot of people already and there SO MANY MORE!!! We are so lucky to have a fandom with so many people contributing and sharing I love all of you💜

Okay and because I can’t leave out people here’s some more amazing blogs to follow!! @smallandalmosthonest @30somethingautisticteacher (has an amputee buck fic which I am yet to read but know will be amazing) @evanbi-ckley (currently writing a kink club au that I’m a little obsessed with) @watchyourbuck @bambibuckley @half-oz-eddie (hilarious incorrect tweets/texts) @lavenderleahy @actuallyitsellie (some really cute art too) @monsterrae1 @agenttommykinard @buckevantommy there’s so many more but I can’t think of them right now!!! I think I went a little overboard but damn our fandom is huge!

Also not to shout out myself but shout out to my own blog because I do art, write fics, make Bucktommy incorrect tweets, make gifs, and more! 🫶🏽🫶🏽💜