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bitchypuppystarlight · 3 minutes ago
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I just had a thought that Finn & Chloe probably ended up getting married but it’s a troubled marriage because Chloe knows that Finn has never gotten over Rae.
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ao3feed-thefoxholecourt · 3 minutes ago
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robot boy
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3xw8yTl
by Anonymous
“What do you mean?” Neil’s tone makes Andrew’s fingers clench for reasons he can’t explain, digging into the muscle of Neil’s hips.
“I dunno, it just always seemed like you two were just together out of like. Convenience? It never seemed like y’all even liked each other, much less like you were in love. Like Aaron and I are in love. Nicky and Erik are in love. But you guys just seemed-”
“Kate,” Aaron groans.
“What? He asked. It’s not my fault they’re not normal.”
Words: 3009, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M
Characters: Katelyn (All For The Game), Aaron Minyard, Nicky Hemmick, Erik Klose
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Additional Tags: Canon Typical Everything, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Non-Sexual Intimacy
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3xw8yTl
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lov3nerdstuff · 3 minutes ago
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Virtual Strangers {Part 1}
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*Tom Hiddleston x reader*
Parts: 1/9
Words: 5.5k
Summary: When you first replied to a stray text message that was accidentally sent to you from an unknown number, you couldn't have known who the virtual stanger on the other end was, or would be. You couldn't have known that he was soon to become your very best friend and steady companion. You couldn't have known that you would fall for him quite as deeply as you did. You couldn't have known. After all, you had never even seen a glimpse of each other, nor heard the other's voice. You only ever conversed through text messages, even if you did so every day and every night. You couldn't have known that you would fall for a stranger, who you knew even better than yourself. Even if you did not know his name. Yet there is another question that remains unspoken: If you really are best friends and even live in the same city, why does he not want to meet you in person?
~virtual strangers to friends to lovers~
A.N.: What exactly are you getting from this story, you ask? An online friendship-turned-romance? Check. Flirting via texts? Check. Annoyed yet overly supportive publicist and friend Luke? Check. Literary references to classical literature and plays? Check. Bobby being adorable and a valid character in the story? Check. Just the right twinge of angst? Check. Humour? Check. Fluff? Check. Super long chapters because I just can't be bothered to keep it short? Hell yeah.
Find all parts on my Masterlist!
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It was shortly after ten at night when you unlocked the front door to your tiny flat on the fifth floor, kicking it open with one foot just a little too strongly for your taste. It ended up slamming into the nearest wall behind it, causing a rattling orchestration of crude noises that surely would be heard by all of your neighbours, but quite honestly, you currently couldn't care less. It had been a clusterfuck of a day, stressful and annoying and way too long for anyone's good. All you wanted when you kicked the bloody door shut again and dropped your coat and leather satchel in your joke of a hallway was to get out of your fancy clothes and fall into bed with a good movie to soothe you into sleep. This day just had to be over soon… you were absolutely done with it and the world in general. Groaning to yourself quietly, you unceremoniously kicked your shoes off and finally made your way through the darkness of the flat towards your bed. You didn't have a sofa, didn't even have the space for one, so it was either the bed or the desk to reside at, and there was no way in heaven or hell you would spend another minute at the latter today. Not when you'd already sat at the one in your office at university for over twelve bloody hours.
For a minute you just lay in the darkness on top of your covers with your eyes closed, breathing deeply. At least there hadn't been anyone waiting for you who would be yelling at you now for coming home so late. Repeatedly coming home late. But then again, perhaps you wouldn't work quite so much if there actually was anything else for you to do after work other than sitting at home and fighting boredom. What did it matter… things were as they were, and you were content, usually. It probably was just the gloom and weariness of the pain of a day you'd had that was dragging you down the wrong path right now. With some comfortable clothes and a good movie (you really had spent enough time reading, after all), you would certainly feel better. Just when you were about to make yourself get up to actually put your plans into action, the loud 'ping' of your phone cut through the heavy silence of the flat from the short way back in the improvised hallway. Good thing your flat was more like one single room separated into sections by your plentitude of bookshelves than a construct of actual brick walls… at least it allowed you to hear that you'd received a new message just now.
Groaning to yourself once more, you got up to fetch the dreaded piece of technology from your bag, only to return to your bed immediately while opening the messaging app. Huh, a text from an unknown number… Your brows furrowed into a deep frown, and you finally switched on your bedside lamp while you settled against the headboard to open the text.
T: 'Hello Dave, Luke gave me your number so I would stop nagging him about this… Would you by any chance know more than him about the current state of affairs? I know it's terribly forward of me to bother you at this hour, but I haven't been able to think of anything else all day long. The matter really is of great importance to me, so please get back to me if you can. Best, TWH'
You still frowned at your phone, at the text that seemed so genuine and hopeful that despite better judgement you couldn't press the bin-icon button your finger was already hovering over. Usually you would just delete messages like this right away without paying any mind to them, deeming them either a possible scam or a practical joke. But something about this text made you halt and reconsider now, in sympathy for the sender, whether that was because of the almost ridiculously formal words chosen for the simple text, or the fact that it came from a British number much like your own. Either way, you thought it unlikely that a scammer would use the words 'terribly forward', nor would they sign a freaking text message like this. Thus, out of that odd pull of sympathy for the disappointed hopes of a virtual stranger, you decided to reply for once.
Y: 'I'm afraid you've got the wrong number there, TWH. This isn't Dave, nor has it ever been. Sorry to disappoint.'
It took but a minute that you spent scrolling through your newsfeed before you got a reply from the same unknown number, even though you hadn't actually expected a reply at all. Curiously, you opened the messaging app once more and crossed your legs beneath you to sit more comfortably.
T: 'Oh dear… I apologise profoundly, I must have missed a digit there at some point. Thank you for letting me know of my mistake, otherwise I would have spent hours waiting for a reply that wasn't going to come. That was very kind of you. I won't bother you any further now, but again, my sincerest apologies for the disturbance.'
A little smile tugged on your lips as you read the message twice, both amused and oddly delighted by the thoughtful and astonishingly polite reply. Whoever this person was, they certainly had impeccable manners as well as a way with words you found yourself enjoying more than you cared to admit. For a moment you debated with yourself whether you should send another reply upon their message now or leave it at that; after all, it would be perfectly fine and polite to just delete the conversation at this point. But at the same time, you felt compelled to assure the stranger that it hadn't been much of a bother in the first place, and that their words and politeness had actually brought the first sincere smile of the day onto your face. On a whim, you decided on the latter.
Y: 'No apologies needed. I would've felt terrible to leave you hopelessly waiting for an answer when whatever this is about is of great importance to you, as you yourself have said. Uncertainty in the long run would've probably been worse than the short lived disappointment or embarrassment of having me and not Dave on the other end of the line. And also… ›Against ill chances men are ever merry, / But heaviness foreruns the good event.‹ In the words of the bard (if you are familiar), that's me wishing you good luck in reaching the right person.'
You made an attempt to set your phone down to get up from the bed and change out of your formal wardrobe, but the sound of another message cut through the silence before the device had even left your hand. Now the smile on your face grew to a degree where you actually couldn't help it anymore, and you flopped back down to look at the new message.
T: 'Henry IV, Part 2: Act 4, Scene 2… Nice! ›Therefore be merry, coz, since sudden sorrow / Serves to say thus, some good thing comes tomorrow.‹'
Your lips parted simultaneously with the stupid grin that was dragging their corners upwards. This person knew Shakespeare! Actually knew Shakespeare, because the reply had come way too quickly for them to have googled that quote. To say you were impressed was an understatement, much rather were you honestly intrigued now. Not even your colleagues at uni understood your literary references that quickly! Who was this person?
Y: 'Wow, I see I'm talking to an expert here… No wonder your messages are so uniquely eloquent, if you know Shakespeare from the top of your head.'
T: 'Why thank you! Are they really, though? I don't usually spend a lot of time composing text messages to strangers, I'm afraid. Or text messages at all, for that matter. Do you?'
You couldn't help the snort that escaped from a point low in your throat, as you shook your head to yourself in amusement. Uncomfortable slacks and blouses forgotten for now.
Y: 'I have never made a habit of conversing with strangers up until quite (very) recently, I'll have to admit that. And yes, your mode of expression is oh so different from what I am used to. In a good way! But since your original message was obviously meant for someone you do actually know personally, I will just have to assume that you text all your acquaintances in this manner, not just strangers.'
When a few moments had passed without a reply, you suddenly found a strange sense of nervousness entering your mind when you reread your text. Had your words been too probing? Just because the stranger liked Shakespeare about as much as you did, that didn't give you the right to forgo the appropriate conversational distance for someone you'd just met. On impulse, you sent a second message right after.
Y: 'I apologise if that was too forward of me. I didn't mean to make assumptions in a way that implies judgement… I merely wanted to assure you that your texting skills are indeed very eloquent, and also much appreciated.'
That wasn't much better, but you decided that you had done what you could to put things about right. Dropping your phone now indeed, your mind returned to your previous intention of changing into something comfortable for the night after all. An oversized sleep shirt was a whole lot better than the business casual you had been sporting before, and once you'd changed, you picked up your laptop from your work bag and settled down in your bed once more with a content sigh. Just when you had draped the covers around yourself in a warm and fluffy cocoon, your phone alerted you of a newly received message.
T: 'Don't worry. Or shall I say fret? As far as I'm aware, our common historical acquaintance used the word ›worry‹ only one single time in all of his work, and even then it's rather used to mean ›to strangle‹.'
You didn't know why, but you let out a breath in relief while reading. The stranger wasn't put off by your forwardness, thank the gods… For some reason you enjoyed talking to them, they seemed to be intelligent and polite enough, as well as outspoken and kind… and that's already more than the few somewhat-friends you had could account for. Either way, the stranger seemed willing enough to indulge you in talking Shakespeare, and you would most definitely use that opportunity to the fullest. So you leaned back against the headboard and replied with an almost excited smile.
Y: 'You're right about that. Etymologically, the word ›worry‹ originated in strangling and ›fret‹ originated in consuming, going off old and middle English words. They've only gained their modern meaning of being related to causing anxiety from the 19th century on, so logically Shakespeare would've used them in a different way.'
T: 'Who is the expert now, huh?'
A rush of hot embarrassment bubbled to the forefront of your mind, and you bit your bottom lip with a frown. Rambling on about the things you liked was a habit you had never really cared to break, but it probably wasn't something you should be doing with someone you had just met. At least not if you wanted them to continue talking to you.
Y: 'I'm so sorry, I probably sound like either a total swot or a real show-off… And while the former might be true, I would rather not be much of the latter.'
T: 'There is no fault in showing off your knowledge at an appropriate time, which is just what I consider now to be. Then it isn't as much showing off as it is enlightening the other. I am very interested in what you have to say, so please don't worry.'
Y: 'That would be a first… Most people wouldn't willingly listen to me talking about literature and language when they have a choice. And even if they do, they still only rarely have something relevant or interesting to say about the matter in return.'
T: 'Would you believe me if I said I have actually had the same problem, up until now? People do listen to me, but often enough they fail to sincerely care.'
Y: 'I guess it just takes an encounter by chance with a kind stranger to find someone to discuss these things with. At least you can be sure that if I didn't care about what you have to say, I wouldn't still be here talking to you.'
You were biting your lip again when you pressed send on that last message, and quite like expected there was no immediate reply either. Damnit, the internet was making you braver than you should be… braver than you normally were. Sighing, you finally flipped your laptop open to start up a movie you had already seen a couple of times before. But hey, everyone had a comfort movie, right? A little distraction from both the stranger and the brutal day you'd had would certainly do you some good. Still, a few minutes later, your phone pinged once more.
T: 'That is a relief ;) I was afraid you were merely feeling obliged to reply to my messages at this point.'
You let out a small scoff, smiling, and went to reply immediately. As if YOU, the person nobody ever talked to willingly for more than a minute, would actually complain about keeping the interest of another human being who you in return were interested in as well. That wasn't likely going to happen, ever.
Y: 'I was having much the same concerns about you, to be honest. I'm not keeping you from anything, right? And I'm not annoying you either?'
T: 'Not at all. Just as you said, if I wasn't enjoying myself, I wouldn't still be here. In all honesty.'
Y: 'Good… I'd have to say I generally appreciate honesty more than politeness, but you seem to have both on your side, so we're most definitely good. I hope, at least. Just tell me honestly if I'm bothering you at any point in this conversation, with too much or too little literature talk or anything else, and I promise to do the same. If you really should wish to keep conversing with me, that is.'
T: 'That seems only fair, and I do very much wish to indeed. May I thus inquire, with the option of your protest, who the stranger I have the pleasure to bother until further notice is? I would like to change the name in my contacts, seeing as we have now established that you are clearly not Dave.'
You let out a short and rather involuntary laugh, and something about the way your stranger was expressing him or herself just kept on making you smile. Leave alone the fact that you called them your stranger now. Good gods, why on earth did you always have to grow attached so bloody quickly?! And did you really want to give them your personal information? Yes, you decided. What bad could anyone possibly do with your first name and some random pieces of information about yourself that would also apply to a couple thousand other people? Not much.
Y: 'My name is Y/n, but I doubt that this will tell you much about who I am ;) I was female the last time I checked, a London resident, and quite obviously a literature enthusiast. What about you, TWH? What does that acronym stand for?'
For a while your phone remained silent, while your heartbeat on the other hand sped up quite ridiculously until the sound of your blood rushing in your ears drowned out the voices in your movie. Was this whole thing a mistake? It really didn't feel like one… But not every evil could be seen right away either, and there was a reason people always preached to be careful online. This wasn't much different now after all, even if you had their phone number already. The long awaited ping released you from your overthinking.
T: 'Very pleased to meet you, Y/n. Even if this probably is one of the most unconventional ways of meeting someone I've ever come across.'
You snorted, then raised an eyebrow up at your phone. You could see that your stranger was still typing, and you patiently waited for the second part of the message.
T: 'The last time I checked I was male, but a London resident and literature enthusiast no less. Now, would it be terribly unfair of me if I didn't tell you my name in return? I know this must seem like I tricked you into giving me yours, but I swear that this wasn't my intention at all. I simply didn't think this whole thing through before asking, if I'm honest. But I did promise you my honesty after all, and I like to keep my promises, thus it wouldn't do to just tell you a name that isn't my own.'
You frowned to yourself for a moment, feeling indeed a little tricked into telling him now, but you would grant him the benefit of the doubt and believe that he really hadn't had any bad intentions behind it. Sometimes people just hit send before they thought it through, that had happened to you before as well, on more than one occasion. Sighing, you decided to work with the little you had.
Y: 'So I will just have to call you TWH then, huh?'
T: 'I am sorry, honestly. I would love to tell you, but I'm a very private person and it seems I just forgot about the implications and extent of that for a moment. TWH is merely how I sign job related messages, so that the people working with me know who they've got on the other end. But as you yourself said, a name wouldn't tell you who I am anyway.'
Y: 'What am I supposed to call you, then? I would like to save your number as well, but as something other than ›stranger who accidentally texted me‹… Perhaps I will just call you T?'
T: 'I don't mind that, but the choice is all yours either way. After all… ›What’s in a name? That which we call a rose / By any other name would smell as sweet.‹'
Y: 'Well, I'm not calling you Romeo, nor Montague for that matter ;) Most people would argue that this particular play is overrated anyway, so what's your take on that?'
You sent the message, then went ahead to save the number under TWH indeed while you waited for a reply. In the end, you figured that it really didn't matter what his name was. The more important facts were that he was male and old enough to be working, living in the same city as you, as well as probably gifted with a higher education, good manners and a more than decent memory. That was enough information to keep talking about Shakespeare with him.
And that you did, texting back and forth about the bard's work and words while your movie played in the background. T really had some interesting thoughts and opinions, some you agreed with and others not, but after a while you were beyond certain that he'd definitely had some kind of higher literary education beyond the usual stuff required for taking one's A-levels. The things he knew and pointed out just seemed so well thought out, reflected and far beyond the superficial… and at the same time, his knowledge was somewhat different than your own. You had gained yours through academia, following your literature degrees all the way up to your doctorate which you were currently working on… But where had he gained his? You didn't dare to ask, but the question lingered on your mind throughout the evening while you exchanged messages almost at the pace of a real-time conversation. Honestly, you couldn't recall the last time you'd talked to someone for this long, neither on the phone nor in person, and neither could you recall a time when you had laughed and smiled this much. It was ironic, really, how for the first time in weeks you were feeling honestly excited about your work on your dissertation again, and that even after the bloody bad day you'd had. All because of a virtual stranger who was willing to discuss Shakespeare with you.
When your movie ended two and a half hours later, you had hardly paid any attention to it at all. Most of your attention had been taken up by T and his texts, and as much as you would've loved to keep talking to him now that your movie was over, a glimpse at the glowing digits on your laptop told you that it was time to call it a night. It still was only Tuesday after all, and you were expected to give a seminar at 8 tomorrow morning. Sighing, you closed your laptop and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the night, taking your phone with you so you wouldn't miss any replies. Was this how your students felt when they remained glued to their phones even during class? You had to admit, from this perspective it most definitely made sense. Good gods, you were no better than them; no wonder people repeatedly mistook you for one of the students.
When you settled back into bed at last, putting the laptop on your nightstand and killing the light, you released a deep sigh. Who knew if you would ever get the chance to have another conversation like this again? Would T still be willing to continue this tomorrow, or another day? Oh well… so much for not getting attached. You rolled your eyes at yourself, then decided to get a grip and say goodnight already. You really needed to sleep. So you replied to his previous comment on Coriolanus, but then followed your message straight up with a second one.
Y: 'I absolutely don't want to cut you short, and I would love to just keep talking to you, but I'll have to be up early tomorrow and therefore should really call it a night now. Can we continue this another time?'
T: 'Of course, no problem at all. I'm sorry for keeping you up so late, I should have been more considerate.'
Y: 'You have been very considerate in keeping me company, actually. I probably would've been up until now anyway, but after the horrible day I've had, my night likely would've looked no better, hadn't it been for you. Thank you for making me smile, T. You've made me look forward to dealing with literature again for the first time in weeks. I really hope we can do this again, if you'd be inclined as well. For now however, I wish you a good night.'
With that you closed the messaging app and locked your phone, without waiting for a reply for once. If you had, you surely would've been tempted to reply to that reply in return again and so on and so forth, and then you would never get any sleep tonight. You couldn't risk that. So you set your phone on mute and put it on the nightstand to charge for now. And perhaps, if you were lucky, you would wake up to a message from T that you could use as an excuse to start the conversation up again tomorrow.
… … …
Tom smiled down at his phone, reading your last message for the third time already and yet his smile still wouldn't drop. As it seemed, this encounter by chance had not only turned his own night from sour to sincerely enjoyable, but yours as well. He couldn't help feeling genuinely happy with that knowledge, as well as thoroughly amused by the overall circumstance. Who would've thought that Luke of all people would be the one to kickstart all of this, when he'd jotted down Dave's number for Tom this afternoon in that horrendously illegible handwriting of his? And who would've thought, furthermore, that Tom's inability to read said handwriting would thus lead to the most intriguing conversation he'd had in the longest time? Tom certainly had not.
When he had tried to reach out to Dave at the beginning of the night, he had been all but anxious, stressed, and annoyed by sundry and the world. He was supposed to start rehearsing a play here in London in two weeks, but as of yet nobody had bothered to send him even a single page of said play for his preparations. He'd spoken to both the writer and the director before signing up for the job, of course, and while world premieres were always a risky thing to partake in, he had hoped that by now he would at least have gotten something he could prepare for. Some lines, a few beginning pages… But any time he had asked Luke to inquire about the script, he'd gotten the same answer: it's still being written. Great. So much for being able to show up prepared on the first day of rehearsals.
At some point, namely today, Luke had been so fed up with Tom's constant inquiries that he had simply given him Dave's number so he could ask him himself. Dave was the assistant dramaturg, mind you, not even the writer of the bloody play. But Dave was the one working with the writer's assistant's assistant, and that was currently the closest connection Tom could get to the script. Honestly, sometimes he hated the industry he was caught up in. Playing and preparing the parts was nice, his passion even, but the whole bureaucracy around it was a pain in the butt.
But then this happy accident, or rather a 7 he had mistaken for a 1 in Luke's scribbled font, had flipped his bad day (more like, a bad week) thoroughly on its head. At first when he had received your reply he had obviously been both annoyed with himself and embarrassed to have texted a stranger, uncomfortable in the uncertainty if perhaps by some sinister miracle you would know exactly who he was and thereby kickstart a PR disaster… But then he had rolled his eyes at himself for fearing the impossible, and apologised instead like his gut was telling him to. When he had then against any expectations received yet another message from you upon that, both your intelligent words and the fact that you had even bothered to try easing his mind about the situation had started intriguing him.
And then of course, there had been Shakespeare. He could never resist a well used literary reference, and thus he'd just had to reply to that message before even thinking about it. After that it had only taken a few more texts from you for him to know that you definitely knew more about the bard than he did, if not about literature as a whole. But still you had actually seemed to enjoy discussing it with him, willing to indulge him with knowledge and, foremost, with your own sincere opinion even if it differed from his own. That was rare to come by, even in his world. People always liked to listen to him, but rarely did they bother to listen to what he was saying. Not in a way he would have wanted them to, at least.
Everybody wanted to talk to Tom Hiddleston, the perfectly imperfect man in a fancy suit, but nobody cared much about Tom, the guy who tripped over his own dog on the way to the loo in the morning. Well, his family did care, admittedly, but as it always was with families, they had diverging interests and sometimes too little regard for his passions where the public had too much of it. Nobody would usually dare to disagree with him about his opinions on literature, one thing he was notoriously praised for against any reason, and it was honestly just bloody annoying. One couldn't have a proper discussion if nobody ever dared voicing a diverging opinion! So having you talking honestly and easily to him all of a sudden, entirely by chance, turned out to be one of the best things that had happened to him in a long time. And that, among a variety of other things that would be of more relevance to Luke than to Tom himself, had been the reason why he didn't want to give you his name. Perhaps being T, the random stranger who had accidentally texted you, would open up the possibility for him to have a normal conversation with someone outside of his own line of work and position therein for once.
Gods, he really hoped you would actually want to continue talking to him… When you'd said goodnight, he had feared for a moment that this had been it, that this had been all he would get out of his little break from being the Tom Hiddleston. It still would've been a lovely break, sure enough, but he had nonetheless found himself oddly relieved when you'd sent that last text, saying how he had managed to make you smile after a bad day, how you wanted to keep on talking to him if only he was inclined. Of course he was inclined, what a silly question… Otherwise he wouldn't be smiling down at his phone like an idiot right now. Perhaps he would make a habit out of texting after all, if you let him. He surely had the time for it these days.
Thus, after reading through the whole night's worth of text messages once more, Tom finally got up from the sofa and moved upstairs to his bedroom to call it a night as well. Not, however, without pondering what he should reply to you that would say not only goodnight but also voice how very inclined he was to keep on conversing with you as well. He actually couldn't wait to hear your opinions on some of the sonnets, or even the entire realm of literature beyond just good old Shakespeare… But he certainly wouldn't allow himself to unleash upon you the whole of his suddenly sparked desire for making conversation as himself and not as the role he played in public all at once. To some degree, he was afraid of putting himself out there like that, of possibly being the driving force of his own doom. Yet, on the other hand, he didn't want to scare you away with his excitable and intense nature that he also tried to hide from the public for the most part. Showcasing that he had gotten rather attached to you after just a few hours of texting back and forth probably wouldn't be the smartest move either.
So he ended up lying in bed half an hour later, overthinking and still staring at his phone without an idea of how to phrase his thoughts. It was rather ironic, really, that he had thought it so easy to talk to you all night, and yet here he was now without an inkling of how to say what he wanted to say. Luckily you hadn't been online again after sending your own good night… or should he better cross that thought out and say unfortunately you hadn't been online again? It gave him too much time to think; about actions and consequences and possibilities so far beyond the here and now that they lost every relevance in that alone. But he couldn't very well just say goodnight and leave it at that, right? Good gods, he was an idiot. What was the point of this whole thing if he still had to bother with pretenses?! Did he, even? Bloody ridiculous, this was… Had he really so thoroughly unlearned to be himself? When had his image and reputation become more readily accessible tools in determining his actions than his own true personality? Tom didn't know, and he also didn't want to waste any more time thinking about it.
Releasing a deep breath, he rolled onto his back and pressed his palms against his tired eyes for a moment, listening to Bobby's soft snores coming from the corner of the dark room. When had things gotten so complicated… and why hadn't he realized it sooner? Why had it taken a chance meeting with a virtual stranger to see that he needed a break from trying to keep up with his own bloody reputation? Perhaps he would simply be T for a while… That was easier than being Tom Hiddleston. It was being himself and not his own character, for once. And T, he thought, could reply to you whatever the heck he wanted.
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rainycatto · 4 minutes ago
LIES you have more than one fic!!!
i wanna hear a secret about the marianne fic with the dog :D
BLASPHEMY
sure! thanks var! hehe i'll have a go
i was planning originally to have more of the students in there! sure, there was the teeny, a-few-words of the implied marihilda (hilda coming to see mari every morning) and the early morning run-in with raphael, but it didn't feel like enough at the beginning?
maybe a bit of felix training early? or bernie or dedue down at the greenhouse? or one of the deer (maybe claude?) on patrol? annie making her patrol sweets before anyone's up? or just someone, anyone out early?
in the end i decided against it, and that it wouldn't fit in too well with the path that mari took to get there, and that it maybe wouldn't be like the characters?
in hindsight i really have no idea why the hell i left that out wow. huh. past me really was pretty stupid.
anyway! thanks again var! this is too much fun to do lol.
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chayacat · 4 minutes ago
Text
Devil’s Sweet Star (31)
Fandom: Dead by Daylight
Ghostface x Female Reader  
Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  
***
The night was long... but she was beautiful. And torrid too. A night you will remember for a long time. His kisses along your body, his delicate but sensual gestures, the warmth of his body to make you melt with pleasure ... his voice that kept repeating that he loved you... Yes, you will remember that night eternally. The sun's rays lightly passed through the curtains of your room. You and Jed were still in bed, naked but covered to the waist, sticking to his back, a little smile on your lips. For nothing in the world, you wouldn't want to let him go. If he wakes up before you and tries to get up, he may find himself stuck by your little arms, like an oyster at his rock. The latter moved slightly, turning towards you, hugging you a little more.  
The sun's rays came to Jed's eyes, who woke up with his hand on his face, waking you up at the same time. Even with his hair in battle, he remained beautiful. You on the other hand... a brush stroke would not be refusal. His eyes were lost in yours while his lips display his usual angelic smile. He put a little kiss on your lips before hugging you a little more against him.
“Well slept?” he simply asks of his slightly hoarse voice when he woke up.
“After the night I spent? I slept like a baby... I have never felt as alive as that night.” you respond, kissing him on the lips.  
“Delighted to find out then... it means it's far from the last time. Very far even.” He replied, before looking at his phone. “Shit. I have to be at the newspaper in 30 minutes. I will be late.”
“Can't you tell them you'll be a little late for this time? You've always been a model employee... you may well be late at least once in your life.” you said, with begging eyes.
“I would love very much, believe me honey, but I can’t. I don’t want to say that I am an important part of the Gazette but I am the one who deals with the most important subjects... Unfortunately, I can’t afford that kind of thing. Even if sometimes, I want to.”  
“Too bad. In the meantime, you don't go from here with an empty stomach. I'll give you a nice breakfast. Quick to do and quick to eat.”
He smiles at you, and each on your own, you rise to get dressed. You take advantage that he wasn’t looking at you to look at his little ass now covered by his jeans. Oh no... this is definitely not the last time you'll see him completely naked. Quite the contrary. Once both of them were dressed, you left the room, Jed headed to the bathroom while you went to the kitchen. Eggs, bacon and good coffee. Simple, but effective. Compared to Jed, you still have 2 good hours before going to work.
Jed walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, ready to go to work. And to say that you will soon live with him... When, you don't know it yet, Mr. Lawson must first make sure that everything is in conformity and do the necessary work. But knowing that you will live under the same roof with your love... it's a dream. He devoured his breakfast for no time, but still took his time to drink his coffee. It made you laugh to see his face looking at you, cheeks filled, like a hamster eating his seeds.
“I'm lucky... today I would not see Wilhelm's face. Even if sometimes I recognize that it's quite fun to piss him off or to see him thank me reluctantly.” he said with a smile.  
“Jed! That’s not nice!” you answer with a laugh.  
“What? I swear to you, if you had seen his face when he thanked me, it was like he was going to vomit. He doesn't like me so having to thank me... you understand that he must have it in his throat.”
“You're really evil. Another facet of you that I didn't know.”
“And that's nothing. I am not evil, let's say that when I am provoked or aggressed for no reason... I become a completely different person. I have to go. We will have to think about going to see the apartment from above before taking it. To see what work there will be to do. Even though Mr. Lawson has promised that he will do the work, I prefer that we take a look at what really needs to be done. There is no point in paying for what is not urgent.”
“Sure! Have a good day.” you replied with a lovely smile.
“Have a good day my love.” said Jed, kissing you before leaving.  
You sigh, Jed and work... a real obsession. But nothing can really change him anyway. It would still be nice if he took a vacation from time to time... or at least a few days off. You finish lunch before leaving for the Nebula. On the road, you think back to the discussion you had with Amy and Corey about Roseville's festival. And they are right, why not create a gigantic cake in honor of the city? In addition to other pastries! This would be a good way to pay tribute to this small town while advertising your business! Two birds with one stone, as they say.
As you arrive at the café, you see that the police are there. But fortunately, it's not for you that they are there. Lindsey, the florist who helped you get started in your business, was crying on the steps of her store.
“Lindsey? Is everything going well? What's going on?” You ask, placing a hand on her shoulder.  
“Oh (Y/N) this horrible!!! Someone broke into my shop last night. He destroyed everything! years and years of work, ransacked in a single night! What am I going to do?” She responds by sniffing slightly.
“Damn...I’m sorry Lindsey. You...you want something to eat and drink? it would do you good.”
She nodded and followed you into the café. Amy and Corey had just finished cleaning the room as well as the back shop. Preparing two cups as well as two slices of pie that you had prepared the day before and that Amy had finished cooking when you arrived. You sit at Lindsey's table, handing her coffee and pie, Lindsey thanking you as she looks at her cup.
“Tell me what happened.” you simply said.  
“Last night, I closed my shop a little earlier than expected, because I was doing my accounts. That's when I heard a group of little young people, completely drunk doing the idiots. I didn’t pay attention to them, after all they are young, they have the right to live. When I left the shop, they were... they were pissing in front of the storefront. I berated them and they ran away. But one of them told me something, unfortunately I didn’t hear well. And there, I arrive this morning in front of the shop and I see that the door has been forced and all the interior ransacked!!!” She responds with some tears in her eyes.
“You're sure they really did that? You know it may be a contest of circumstance. Don't you have an enemy or competitors who would like to see you shut down?”  
“Of course not! I have always made sure to sort things out in a peaceful and diplomatic way! I am sure (Y /N), they are the ones who destroy everything. By the way, I heard one of them talking about that man on the news...Mr Hoggins. But I don’t know what he said.”
You nod and talk a little more with Lindsey before she leaves home, while the police finish inspecting the premises. Of course, they came to see you, in order to find out if you had seen or heard something, to which you replied that unfortunately you were already at home long before Lindsey closed her shop. The police left, greeting you and your employees. You sigh, if young offenders start attacking businesses in the neighbourhood, there is a good chance that one day, yours will become their target. But what worry you the most, was the fact that one of them talked about Hoggins. What kind of link can they have together? Deep down, you don’t really want to know.
You turn to Amy and Corey who were chatting on their side. Let's hope that the day someone has to come and ravage this place, neither of them is there. You would feel so guilty... just like for your parents. It's silly, but you can't help but play moms or big sisters with people. Even if you have known them recently. They are your little foals... it's normal to worry about them, right?
“Ok! I thought back to the conversation we had and I think it's a great idea that you both had! Alone, I would not be able to make such a large cake. It will be the same size as a wedding cake and unfortunately, I never made one. Do you think you are up to the task?” you ask with a smile.  
“Of course! You can count on us! We will not disappoint you!” responds Corey, full of energy.  
You agree on the taste, appearance, and decoration of the cake. It must be something grandiose, worthy of Roseville and its inhabitants! The mayor has placed his trust in you, we should not disappoint him. Then comes the time to open the Nebula. The first customers arrived quite quickly and took seats at the table. Some were regulars, others were new. There was even a small tourist couple staying in the small hotel of the city. How cute they are.  
If the morning was rather quiet, the afternoon was quite busy. But something unexpected happened. While you were preparing another batch of Brownies, you see Hoggins at the counter, chatting with Amy. Why did he come here?? And besides, how did he know that you work here?? You never told him about yourself, even less about your business! At least, you don't remember telling him about it. Besides, you never really talk to him during his reception. Then you remember what Lindsey said to you. What if, in reality, you were the target of these offenders and not Lindsey? Maybe Hoggins hired them for that. Fear took you slightly to the stomach.  When he sees you, he smiles at you warmly and you feel compelled to smile at him in return and go see him at the counter.
“Miss (Y/N)! What a surprise! I didn't think I'd see you here! Do you work in this café?” he said with a bright smile.
“In fact, I work and I am the boss of this Café Mr Hoggins. You must have heard about it...” you respond with a fake smile.  
“Oh, I see, I see! Well, I didn't expect a bird of paradise like you to do a job too... simple. But who am I to judge your decision?”
“Well...thank you...How can I help you Mr Hoggins?”
“Nothing very particular, as I had heard from our very esteemed mayor that your café was going to take care of the cakes for the Roseville’s festival, I wanted to see the place by myself. You know, you always have to make sure that people are trustworthy. But as it’s about you... I am sure you will delight our fine palates.” Hoggins replied, gently kissing your hand. “By the way, congratulations for ... your relationship with Mr. Olsen. Even though I personally find that a jewel as you shouldn’t be in the hands of a... arrogant and a parasite like him.”
“At the risk of disappointing you, Mr Hoggins, I would rather belong a thousand times to an arrogant and a parasite, as you say, than to a man who believes that he is allowed everything, because he has fortune and power. All men think that it’s enough to have millions in their pockets to attract women. But we only want love. And money will never be able to buy that. As it will never be able to buy me.” you said suddenly removing your hand, shooting him with your eyes.
“I apologise if I offended you. I am not in a position to judge anything in your house. I'll leave you; I don't want to make you lose potential customer. Ladies, Sir. To the pleasure.”
After making sure he's off, you wash your hands quickly, to remove saliva from this dirty idiot. What a bastard, if he believes that it is by bending and showing his fortune that he will have you, he can go and put a broom in his ass. In addition, he dares to call Jed a parasite! HE is the parasite! You clenched your fist before sighing... better to drop it and focus on what matters most to you. The end of the day was rather quiet. the cool evening wind made you tremble slightly but it was nothing compared to what Hoggins had made you feel. And to say that he is trading with thugs...Amy and Corey were gone, only you still in the shop. At least it's what you thought. While you were taking care of your book of accounts, you feel a look on you. But you know who was there.
“I'm going to end up putting lasers to stop you from entering my café and my house one day...” you simply said, without turning your head.
“Tss, it would be a child’s game for me to pass. Remember that so far, I have never been caught. But I feel like you are... slightly tense.” said Ghostface, leaning against the door.
“Slightly?? This dirty asshole of Hoggins came to MY shop to make advances to me and he called MY boyfriend a parasite and arrogant, thinking I would be attracted by his charming comedy and his money! And you find that I am SLIGHTLY tense???”
“...This repulsive son of a bitch believes that he can have anything he wants by using his influence. It's a good thing that I'm killing him soon, isn't it?”
“Oh God yes! I want that bastard suffer! Whether he suffers more or just as much as his associate asshole!” you replied out of control before realizing what you just said. “F-Forget what I said.”  
“Don't even think about it. I intend to remember that adorable angry face when I kill him. I knew you would crack. No one remains "pure" indefinitely. You know what? Let's make a deal. I kill Hoggins and in exchange, you spend an entire evening with me. You will do whatever I tell you.”
“I will not betray the trust that Jed...”
“Yeah, yeah I know, he’s your boyfriend bla bla bla... But it's not like you haven't already...do it. Even if for you I almost raped you... you didn't have that much of a struggle in the end.”
You clenched your fist. Nothing is holding you back from sticking a slap in his face. Except maybe his knife that he always holds in case you try an unfortunate gesture …
“Do you have any intention of killing him soon?” you ask, keeping your distances.  
“After Roseville’s festival in two weeks. That will be the last thing he will experience.” He responds with a grin.  
“If you kill him...and if you tell me who you are...I'll spend an evening with you. But after Hoggin’s death.”
“Ha ha ha...Smart girl. You don't lose sight of your goals.”
“As you said: if you fall, I fall too. But I have the right to know who I deal with. Unfortunately for me, we’re bond together in some kind of way.”  
“Oh, I can promise you... that you will not be disappointed, but surprised.”
“So... Deal?” you replied, raising your hand toward him.
He looked at your hand for a few minutes, letting a silent of death fall. What if he changed his mind? And if he asked for something more... horrible? Your heart began to beat hard, fear taking you more and more when you saw that he wasn’t moving. Then he ends up by taking your hand and suddenly get you closer to him.
“Deal. Welcome to my world, my angel.”
***
(And it’s finished! Sunday, it will be Father’s Day!  I would like to thank you all again for following me all this time, I know that DSS is quite long, but I really want to take my time to put things in place. I don't know how many chapters it will make in all, but I already know how it will end.  
I remind you that this is my very first fanfic and that therefore I learn as I write. But I hope that you like it as much as I like it, and that you will like the next ones I would make just as much. Because yes, DSS will not be the last, I don’t know yet about who or what I would do the others but I think about it!
In addition, if you have any advice, or you know how to make a Masterlist, you can tell me about it in the ask box! I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all! And Happy Father’s Day for all! See ya!)
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boxesandrings · 4 minutes ago
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The Farmer hopped out of her truck outside of Elliott’s house, nearly falling over a piece of driftwood as she raced to the cabin. Underneath her long coat she was wearing a large sweatshirt and sweatpants, not exactly the sexiest outfit, but had decided to forgo underwear entirely.
The anticipation of what was to come was more than enough to turn her on, having spent the last half an hour thinking of how Elliott might touch her, or how she might touch him. The door was unlocked, but before she could turn the handle herself the door was open, Elliott standing there, in nothing but his underwear. The two regarded each other for a moment, the sexual tension between them almost acting like a physical barrier before the Farmer sprung toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck and she kissed him deeply. Elliott responded by pulling  her body in closer, into the cabin, shutting the door behind her before pinning her back against it.
Aaaand... Chapter 5! I published them together because I didn't want to have to sit on it. Read Love Letters on Archive of Our Own by searching for BoxesAndRings, or by clicking the link in this post!
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guiltysecretpasttime · 4 minutes ago
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Airbender’s Wife - Chap 12
Maybe to help Anon from the Asks - sharing here the link to the update in Ao3 as well when I update a chaptered story there.
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Excerpt from Chapter 12 (posted in Ao3) - 16 June
When Lin came to, it was to a dull mechanical whirring sound. That could only come from –
“You’re on the airship now, dear. You’re safe.”
She slowly blinked her eyes open. The blurry figure of her husband leaning over by her side came to view.
She gave a gasp of pain as she tried to get up. It hurt everywhere. She tried to regain her bearings.
----
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ao3feed-geralt-jaskier · 4 minutes ago
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by lineofpepsi
It takes him a while, but Geralt eventually conveys to Jaskier that he wants to return to Kaer Morhen for the winter. Jaskier has to explain to the remaining witchers of the Wolf school just how Geralt has become the way he is. Triss Merigold tries her best to help, but there's only so much she can do.
Everything ends up alright. it's just a bit of a bumpy road to get there.
Words: 429, Chapters: 1/7, Language: English
Series: Part 2 of got what you wanted, lost what you had
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel (The Witcher), Lambert (The Witcher), Vesemir (The Witcher), Triss Merigold
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Additional Tags: Misunderstandings, Jaskier reads too much into everything, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending, Jaskier meets the family
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ao3feed-geralt-jaskier · 4 minutes ago
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by ButtercupFics
Jaskier has travelled with Geralt for many years; it's only natural that he should one day eventually no longer need Geralt but Geralt isn't giving up that easy, not when he can make Jaskier rely on him soley with a little help from axii.
Words: 1821, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Series: Part 16 of Dead Doves and Kinks
Fandoms: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Categories: M/M
Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Additional Tags: Mind Control, dependency kink, Rape/Non-con Elements, Improper Use of Axii (The Witcher), Axii (The Witcher), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Piss kink, Omorashi, eventually, do not be fooled this fic will turn very kinky
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ihathbenobiwankenobied · 5 minutes ago
For the prompts thing could i have one where Cody gets injured protecting Obi-wan? hurt/comfort
Obi-Wan regretted fighting after every battle. He regretted the senseless killing, even of droids, and the endless setbacks and split decisions. Mostly, he regretted the pain. The suffering of his men, and often himself, was never worth the outcome of the battle, but the universe depended on him.
This time it wasn’t him who sustained an injury, it was his confidante and second in command. They had allowed the clankers to come too close, Obi-Wan had envisioned that he could take them out with a few smooth strokes of his lightsaber across their necks. The General had turned to yell out a couple of orders to Waxer and Boil, lightsaber hung at his side rather than at attention. Suddenly, he felt the horrifying presence of metallic droids enclosing around his body. “Kenobi get down!” He heard the scream erupt from behind him as Cody dove to shove him towards the sand of Tatooine. He landed on top of Obi-Wan, the entirety of his weight bearing down on his form.
A wave of blaster fire soared over his head from behind, they were surrounded on all sides. Obi-Wan heard the whimper of Cody from above and felt a sticky warm substance pouring into his own tunics. It wasn’t his own blood, and it suddenly dawned on Obi-Wan that it was Cody’s.
Panic flooded into his mind as he held Cody close to his chest. More blaster fire sounded before silence enveloped them. Seconds passed before Anakin’s voice rang out from above. “Obi-Wan! Kriff, are you okay? There’s blood!” Anakin dropped Obi-Wan’s side and Obi-Wan sputtered as he gently attempted to roll Cody from where he was on top of him.
“Anakin, it’s not me… It’s Cody.” Once Cody had been pushed to the side, Obi-Wan got a full view of the nearly cauterized blaster wound situated on his shoulder. Obi-Wan’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes trailed towards Cody’s face. Cody blinked a couple of times as his teeth ground together and a couple of tears formed at the corners of his eyes. “Cody?” He asked softly.
“Hi…” Cody stuttered softly, “I’m… I’m o-okay.” He tried to sit up, but Obi-Wan pushed his good shoulder back down.
“Wait… wait. Anakin, is Kix on the way?” Obi-Wan asked frantically as he pulled his cloak off and gently laid it over Cody’s shivering body. Shock, Obi-Wan reminded himself. Anakin affirmed that Kix was on his way.
“You-you were gonna get h-hurt. I had to-- I had to save you.” Cody said as he shakily grasped Obi-Wan’s jaw.
“But I’m supposed to save you, protect you.” Obi-Wan tried to ignore the way tears began to drip from his eyes. He was supposed to be the one who took blaster fire, who faced death for his Commander.
“It cannot always be your t-turn.” Cody reminded him with a gentle smile and a tiny squeeze to his hand. “I will be okay.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
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kannra21 · 6 minutes ago
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I rly miss ATDS (As The Dust Settles) by @/randomguywithwords, y'all can check his work on Tumblr. 😔 I know ma dude is having a job rn but it's been a while since he wrote anything and I rly want to see this fic finished. I was so looking forward to it.
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fanficpodcasthome · 6 minutes ago
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Episode 1.5 of Dynamite and a Laser Beam is out now!
Author is KnockOut567 on Wattpad.
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boxesandrings · 6 minutes ago
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After dropping Elliott off at his home to quite a bit of protesting, the Farmer drove back to hers, her mind racing. She had asked Elliott to move in with her as a gut reaction, not as something she had thought through. Not as if she hadn’t thought about it before— they’d been dating for over two years now, and the Farmer was certain they’d be married before their next anniversary. They were going to move in together eventually, but when she had blurted out the question today she had caught even herself off guard.
How soon would he be ready to move in? Robin was a quick worker, with so few people in town she would be able to devote all of her time to the task of patching up the old beachside cabin. At most, the Farmer thought, biting her lip, it would take a month, if any more storms blew through before the winter was over. The renovation aside, Elliott would probably start moving in even sooner, perhaps abandoning the cabin before Robin waas even done with it. Not that the Farmer necessarily minded, if it were easy enough she’d have Elliott move in tomorrow.
Parking in the driveway, it hit the Farmer that if they lived together, there would be no point in sending each other letters anymore. She felt the realization hit her hard in the chest, like the wind was being knocked out of her. It was a silly thing to be upset over, the pair would be living together, it wasn’t like they needed to supplement their distance with letters anymore. But the Farmer knew she’d miss the excitement of the mail deliveries, and smoothing the letters out into her notebook. She pulled out her phone, and typed a quick message.
Chapters 4 and 5 of Love Letters are out! Find it by searching for BoxesAndRings on Archive of Our Own, or by clicking the link in this post! This is the first time I've published a story on the actual tumblr desktop site and not the mobile app, so I'm hoping the link works correctly.
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sunshinekitcat · 8 minutes ago
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Comprehensive Ranking of the Best Fic Tropes
1. Anything — because all fics are beautiful and meaningful to different people and we should never dunk on an author for their choice of tropes
2. The Bully/The Victim — No. Just: No.
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haikyuu-fic-recs · 9 minutes ago
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on the basis of us by auvelli
pairing: sakusa/atsumu
my tags: love confessions, moving in together
6,404 words, completed
Author Description: In which "I'm moving out" could be "We're moving out," if they would just let it.
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aislinnstanaka · 9 minutes ago
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Finally Friday again! My update schedule is very haphazard, but I’ll still be releasing chapters regularly.
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lifeofroos · 11 minutes ago
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I cannot be stopped. Another bonus chapter. 
In short: Nico gets therapy from Dionysus. In this bonus chapter, Dionysus has a point to prove. Also on AO3 and FanFiction.net and in Tumblr tags like Dionysus, nico di angelo, therapy etc.
Also, got the idea from This Tumblr Post by @heyimboredtalktome
Bonus chapter: Chocolate Milkshake
‘What if I say I was wrong and I believe you?’
Dionysus opened the car door. ‘No.’
‘And how exactly will this help my recovery?’
It was quiet for a moment. I stepped out of the car. 
‘Perhaps it isn’t. But you should know that America is not the only country with a McDonalds menu.’
‘I said I believed you!’ 
He stared at me without replying. I sighed. He wasn’t going to change his mind now. ‘Well, okay, then. Show me how they actually do serve alcohol in French Mcdonalds’ restaurants.’ I couldn’t help but sigh. 
Dionysus slid on a pair of sunglasses before we walked into the McDonalds. There was even a row, gods almighty. Now we had to wait before he could proof his stupid point. 
I looked up. ‘It’s on the menu,’ I noticed. ‘I saw it, you’re right, they serve alcohol in McDonalds. I’ll never doubt you again.’
He stayed right where he was. I couldn’t see his eyes through the sun glasses, but I don’t think he was looking at me. 
I sighed again and that also didn’t bother him. I guessed we would be here for a while. 
It seemed to take an eternity before it was our turn. Dionysus looked at me. ‘Ten minutes. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ 
I shot him a look. I hoped he knew what it meant. 
Dionysus turned to the tired looking employee and asked something in French. The employee answered, with the look of someone who has had to deal with stupid people a little too often. 
While he did so, Dionysus put a hand on the back of my head. ‘Yes, sir, we’ve got alcoholic drinks,’ I clearly heard the boy say, before his words became gibberish again. 
‘...ah-ha.’ 
Dionysus was quiet for a moment, after which he sighed and ordered something. 
A few minutes later, a chocolate milkshake appeared on the counter. Dionysus left a tip of way more money than the McDonalds’ employees expected to earn in a month and then we left. 
Dionysus handed me the milkshake when we got out. ‘Here. Sorry for the wait.’ 
I looked at the Milkshake, before I smiled. ‘It was actually kinda funny,’ I said, with a genuine smile. ‘And thanks for the milkshake. 
Dionysus smiled back at me. After a few seconds, he removed the sunglasses. 
‘Did you really wear those so people wouldn’t ask questions about your eye colour?’
‘I did.’
‘So, let me get this straight: it’s normal to drag people across continents to prove a point, but it’s not normal to show people that you’ve got purple eyes?’ 
‘Indeed it is. I have reasons to show you I tell the truth. I don’t have any reasons to tell random people why my eyes are purple.’
I rolled my eyes and took a sip of the milkshake. Anyway, thanks, da… Dionysus.’ 
He looked at me, before giving me a very small nod. 
A/N: Headcanon that Nico almost called Dionysus ‘dad’ more than once. 
Please correct me if I am wrong, I thought they didn’t sell alcohol at American McDonalds’. 
I actually have another idea for a chapter that doesn’t exactly fit the main story. I still think I am going to write it because it’s important. It probably takes places around… May, in the first year of Nico’s therapy, so when Apollo-Lester is in camp Jupiter.
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