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#bb writes
i-am-still-khel · 5 months
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Working on a Fili/Kili story for December. *fingers crossed* that the words keep flowing so it's a good present to the community rather than a WIP that never gets a decent ending.
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betzabobababi · 1 year
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Third Times the Charm
Hello Hello! This is by far one of my favorite things I have written! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Please don't hesitate to like, comment or reblog. It means so much to authors. It also gives them feedback. Anyways without further ado!
Tom Holland x Reader *Y/n Y/ln*
Warnings: Mentions of a fire. Calling 911. Weddings. Proposing
Summary: Tom tries repeatedly to pop the question.
Type: Fluff <3
AUTHORS POV
Tom had been trying to pop the question for months now. He asked for your father's blessing; he told his mum. He even asked Zendaya, your sister, and some of your other close friends for help on picking the ring, date, and place.
So when the day finally came for him to get down on one knee and ask for your hand in marriage, you had to postpone your date because your sister went into an early labor.
Tom reluctantly delayed the occasion and planned another date. This date was in a small family owned Vineyard somewhere in napa. The sun had started to set and just as you were about to turn around (Tom was already on his knee) you spotted that a part of the grape Vines had caught on fire. Hurriedly you called 911. At this point Tom had already gotten up and started to pack up your stuff so you could get out of there safely.
Exasperated by his multiple failed attempts to ask for your hand in marriage he decided that he would try one last time and if it didn't work he would wait a while longer. He thought "maybe the universe is purposefully trying to sabotage my plans because it's not time yet" 
So the third time he tried to pop the question, he set a date in which he made sure you both had no plans or meetings going on. He drove you to a park somewhere downtown and he had a picnic set up.
 He was very nervous, “What if she says no?” or “what if i mess up the speech?” “Third times the charm-Third times the charm-Third times the charm” he kept repeating to himself. If it didn't work out it was ok. But he just really wanted it to work out.  Around an hour into the picnic he mentally psyched himself up one more time and as nervous as he was finally decided to pop the question.
“Y/n Y/l/n *you got this tom!* you are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I love you more than anything in this world. I can guarantee there’ll be tough times.*he gets down on one knee* I guarantee that at some point one or both of us are gonna want to get out of this. *reaches into pocket* But I also guarantee that if I don't ask you to be mine *takes out the ring* I'll regret it for the rest of my life because I know in my heart you are the only one for me. Be with me now and forever?” At the end of his speech Tom’s whole face was flushed a bright red. Breathing heavily he looked into your eyes, looking, searching for any sign of rejection. But when he looked at you all he could see were the tears that were threatening to spill. He could only see your wide smile.
And as if the world suddenly stops, he sees your mouth opening. “YES YES OH MY GOD YES A MILLION TIMES YES!” you said nearly shouting. You were screaming, but at a reasonable level for a person who just got asked for their hand in marriage. Tom let out a sigh of relief finally being able to breathe again. You lunged at Tom and wrapped your arms around his neck, trapping him in a tight hug. When you both finally let go you saw Tom’s family and yours emerging from the trees surrounding both of you. Harry had a camera in hand and was clicking away. Nicki and Dom were in tears. Your sister was carrying her newborn, looking at you with one of the biggest smiles you have ever seen on her face. Her husband followed close behind. And your father beside him. Paddy walked in between his parents. Sam walked next to Harry, carrying a tray of delicious looking desserts. As they reach you and Tom, one by one congratulate you and engulfed you in big hugs. After giving them their love they talked with you guys. Both you and Tom explained your hopes and wishes for the wedding.
“Hey Tom?” you said to him as you were walking back to the car. “Yes Love?” “How many times did you try to propose?” Tom chuckled at the question. Eyes shining with love. “Believe it or not, I only tried three times.” Tom responded. “You know what they say Tommy, Third Times the Charm.”
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crownprincecody · 1 year
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In case anyone is interested, my Codywan chat fic Smitten Troopers just got updated.
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beatrice-babe · 6 months
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coming back to a fic idea from literally years ago and writing absolutely insane emotional dialogue, and it got me thinking
coming back to this fic years later means that there are things I am writing into it I would not have done years ago. things I would not have realized in myself years ago. even if I had put it in, it would have been an accident. coming back to it today, with a couple years of introspection and *~craft~* (writing hundreds of words more of fanfic), I can do the thing on purpose. instead of glancing off my point, i can pin it like a bug to a display and say "this right here, this is what we are doing and it is on purpose"
there's just something really cool about looking at my art today and realizing that it 100% is telling on me as a person in some way, and just being okay with that
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bayobayo · 2 years
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After the events of the show, Marc decides to be more open to Steven from now on, to finally let go of the walls he created between them. What he didn’t expect was that Steven had walls of his own.
Or
In which Marc finds out that Steven has been living a double life after the events of Season 1. Marc, for his part, has finally gotten to live a normal life after everything he’s gone through with Khonshu, so Steven took it upon himself to give him a sense of normalcy while hiding his truth.
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bourneblack · 1 year
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If you've been following me for a while, you know one of my best stories is also the one I haven't updated in years - Sing Me A Song, Piano Man. The reason was, out of all the positive feedback I got on that story, there was a loud minority that ripped apart my words, questioned my intentions, and commanded me to stop. Commenters that disagreed with my choices in the story, questioned my intent, wore me down with their dissatisfactions.
Piano man was a story that revealed something very vulnerable in myself, was big risk and even bigger undertaking, and it was ripped apart by jealous and shallow individuals. In fact, it killed all of my confidence in my Marvel works, including Wrecking Balls 2, and in my interest in the world in general. I can finally admit that.
I don't understand why the people who originally supported me in writing those works turned on me. To this day, it saddens me that it came to that. It's been years, and I've been working on myself, and since them I've switched fandoms (and genders), but I still find myself wishing I could go back to these stories and finish what I started.
There's several points to this, but the most important one is this: if you find a fic you disagree with? That dapples with the unknown and forces you to think? If you read a story that's different, that's taking a risk, hell, any form of artistic expression that involves the author or artist taking a huge risk? Then take your nonconstructive criticism and shove it well up your ass. Because the person in front of you has done something far more courageous in being vulnerable than you can ever hope to achieve in your hate.
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kisses4kaia · 15 days
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mdni. 18+ content. another installment of this au.
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college!luke castellan doesn’t care about hickies.
of course, his frat brothers tease them relentlessly, but he does nothing to rebate the suggestions from most that they were from you. it wasn’t any secret that you and him had been fucking—casually, of course, he didn’t have time for relationships—for some time now, but it always left you a little jarred when he would be so open to the display of red bites left splayed on his neck.
“won’t they see?” you ask a bit dumbly after luke asks you to mark him through passionate kisses. rudely—your friends thought—he’d pulled you away from the dining hall with no explanation other than ‘needing you’.
“what?” he says, slightly breathless from kissing. the question had taken him aback because, had he not made it clear by now?
“won’t your friends see the… you know?” the sheepish tone in your voice elicits a deep chuckle from luke before he presses his lips against your neck, not hard enough to create hickies just yet, but not exactly gently either. “you want the truth, princess?” your eyebrows furrow a little dumbly but you nod with curiosity. “i think you love seeing ‘em on me, and you love when people know they’re from you,” he says. “and you know i don’t care if anyone sees. i know you know me better than that, don’t you, baby?” luke’s timbre is so low, so arousing and you can hardly keep the needy whimper in.
you just nod, no more doubt within you as you trail kisses down his scar, to his jaw, down to his neck and collarbone. the satisfied groans you elicit from him as you find that spot on his throat sends you in a daze almost immediately. his lips catch yours again before he flips the both of you over, settling on his knees in front of you.
luke’s mouth is everywhere, nibbing at the surface of your skin, laving his tongue over the fresh ache. his strong hands pulling your shorts and panties down in one go. “gonna mark you here,” he says, catching the plush flesh of your inner thigh between his teeth, sucking on the area and conjuring a livid stain on your skin.
he forges more and more red marks onto your skin before he finally puts his mouth on your neediest place. luke’s suctions his lips around your clit, forcing a choked gasp from you and a hand flying down onto his head. he groans against you as your back arches and your fingers tangle in his hair, tightening and tugging. he works hard, like he’s being paid to eat you out, but really, he knows he would pay to die between your thighs.
just as luke’s tongue pushes it’s way into your sopping hole, you feel that blissfully hot, white, sensation swim over and past you. your thighs are most likely suffocating luke, but he doesn’t seem to mind, or even notice really.
his tongue fucks you through your orgasm, and upon coming down from your high, luke’s head rises from your middle.
“we’re still casual, though?”
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stevesbipanic · 7 months
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Eddie gets stuck in a time loop but has no idea why, his day is normal, there's not even a test that day that he can use this to pass. After a few time loops he says fuck it let's start doing fun things, starting with talking to his crush, the lovely Fallen King Steve. After a few loops Steve starts talking back, soon there's whole loops with just them hanging out.
Little does Eddie know, Steve is in a time loop too trying to stop the Upside Down once again, he's just having a hard time caring when there's this sweet metalhead chatting him up everyday. Maybe he deserves to waste a few loops.
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rendevok · 9 months
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“Take my hand” a comic for NaruMitsu Week 2023
day 1 - lies & secrets - 2 - 3 - 4
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local-diavolo-anon · 3 months
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so help wanted 2 is out
and i would die for jack-o-moon
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look at them
they look so cool
i love the colors, they feel like a reference to how the fandom drew eclipse before Ruin! (which makes sense since jack-o-moon kinda looks like the bb minigame eclipse)
Edit: thinking about it, why is this guy's name jack o Moon?
Like this is Sun's model repainted, it doesn't have a nightcap, why would this guy be named "Moon" then?
Edit 2: please not again, please stop liking this
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cosmiccinnabun · 7 months
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HEY
*grabs you by the face and pulls you close*
*we are literally nose-to-nose*
You can write whatever the fuck you want to, beautiful.
*pats your head and scampers back into my gremlin hole.*
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i-am-still-khel · 5 months
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I don’t trust myself to write Bagginshield, but Woods of the Raven is giving me all the Bagginshield vibes and I need it.
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rogueddie · 10 months
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s2 au where steve tries to find an empty classroom he can hide away in after his falling out with tommy and carol, trying to stay out of sight, only to stumble in on eddie, getting everything ready for hellfire that evening.
eddie takes pity, pointing to the table shoved into the corner, telling steve he can eat there if he wants bc eddies gonna be too busy to pay attention anyway. steve is relieved, trying to stay turned away to hide his bruises. but eddie cant help himself- he starts talking, asking questions, joking around. and steve slowly opens up.
steve learns the hellfire schedule so he and eddie can keep having their talks. they quickly become great friends but neither realize that there's no real reason for them to be sneaking around or hiding... not yet anyway.
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crownprincecody · 1 year
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My second fill for the @codywanbingo winter bingo. Prompt: mulled wine.
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beatrice-babe · 1 year
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me, rolling up my sleeves after getting into Spy x Family: “if no one is going to write soft platonic Handler and Twilight, then I’ll have to do it myself”
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starlightvld · 2 months
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Up in Smoke
(Also on AO3)
The first time Ghost rips the cigarette from Soap's mouth, drops it on the ground, and stomps on it as he passes by, Soap is too stunned to say anything for a full ten seconds. They've only been working together consistently for a couple of missions, and even as his superior officer, the audacity of the action floors him.
By the time his brain restarts, Ghost is long gone.
--
The second time Ghost steals Soap's cigarette, he bursts out in a string of Scottish curses and tackles Ghost from behind before the wanker can drop it on the ground. An impromptu sparring match ensues, fists and curses flying. 
Afterward, he doesn't feel much like a cigarette anymore — not with the split lip, anyway. Besides, the buzzing under his skin that usually drives him to smoke is just... gone.
Price catches wind of the incident, of course, and calls them into his office a few hours later. By that time Soap has calmed down enough to be... maybe not okay with it, but at least able to see the humor. 
"What's this about you muppets scuffling by the smoking area?"
"Just a little sparring to blow off steam," Soap says.
"Ghost?"
"Nothin' to worry about, Captain."
"No? I've got one soldier who looks like he just got back from a bar fight, and the other..." He squints at Ghost. "He get a hit in on you, too?"
"Yeah," Ghost replies in that deadpan tone of his. "Coupla black eyes."
It's a joke. 
Ghost is telling a joke. And it's objectively not funny. It's not. But Soap bursts into hysterical laughter all the same. 
The corners of Ghost's blacked-out eyes crinkle. 
Price rubs his temples before dropping his hand on his desk. Soap presses his lips together to contain his laughter.
"Sparring happens in the gym. I'm sure you know the place. It's where we have things like mats and gloves. I catch you two bare-knuckle fighting again, and you will regret it."
And it's enough to sober Soap up. He avoids Ghost as he ducks away to catch dinner.
--
The third time... well, no. He supposes that's really the fourth time. 
Because the actual third time, Soap had come back from a shit mission where everything went wrong. Intel was faulty, exfil was delayed, and people under his command died. It didn't happen as often in SAS as it had in the regulars — the soldiers here were well-trained and hard to kill — but that made it all the worse. 
When Ghost tried to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, Soap growled. 
"Back the fuck up, Lt. Or Price is gonna be disappointed in both of us."
Ghost paused, and their eyes met. Slowly, Ghost lowered his hand. 
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Fuck no."
"Thank God."
Soap didn't have it in him to even huff a laugh. He took a long drag and blew the smoke away from Ghost as a peace offering.
To his surprise, Ghost didn't leave. He spun around and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. They stood there together, utterly silent, as Soap let the heat and sting in his lungs soothe the beast inside that wanted to rip the world apart.
When he was done, though, he was surprised to find he didn't want another. Usually after shit missions, he'd stand there and smoke half a pack before his hands would stop shaking.
He finally met Ghost's eyes. The man quirked a barely visible brow.
"S'pose we should take it to the mats this time?"
Ghost pushed off the building and started walking. Soap followed like a lost child looking for a way home. 
--
The fourth time is in Chicago. His hands are shaking not from losing soldiers but from almost losing his own life. The cigarette trembles in his grip as he stands outside the bar, the biting wind turning his fingers and probably his lips blue. He lifts it to his mouth, inhaling deep—
And then it's gone.
The whine that bubbles up from his gut and bursts from his throat is nothing short of humiliating. But God. God. He needs it.
"Not now. Please, Ghost."
"Why?"
Ghost hasn't thrown the cigarette down. Yet. He cocks his head to the side and gives Soap a long look. Soap can only tremble from the cold and a need that goes deeper than a simple hit of nicotine.
"I just... I need it."
The cigarette drops to the ground, but Soap doesn't have time to lament the loss before that same hand is curling around Soap's neck and pulling him into a fucking massive chest. The other arm comes around Soap's shoulders and...
Ghost just stands there, holding him. And Soap can't help melting into the warmth and solidity of the man who saved his life just hours ago. He dares to curl in deeper. To raise his hands and clutch at Ghost's jacket. To let a few, silent tears escape his tight control.
Finally, his muscles relax. Ghost must feel it, because he turns and leads Soap back toward the bar.
"Why do ye even care?" Soap mumbles from his spot tucked into Ghost's side.
"Because those things'll kill ya."
Soap supposes the "I like you alive" is implied at this point.
--
Soap loses count after Chicago. He gets stretches of days when Ghost is on a solo op or out with one of the other operators when he can smoke in peace. So he does.
At first.
He's been hooked since he was a rebellious teen trying to make his mark on the world. He's tried to quit multiple times, but it never seems to stick. The first bad mission or adrenaline-filled near miss and he's back at whatever smoking spot he can find, puffing away.
He finds himself trying to cut back, though, even when Ghost is away.
Any time Ghost is on base, all bets are off. In addition to darting by and making a grab for it or sneaking up behind him and flicking it out of his hands, Ghost has gotten more creative. Sometimes Soap will pull out a cigarette only to find he's "lost" his lighter. Sometimes the cigarettes themselves go missing — he clutches his chest and mourns all that wasted money whenever a whole pack disappears. 
He supposes it's all just going up in smoke anyway, though.
He should be angry. But in truth, it's almost a relief to hand over the reins to Ghost. To let the man help him by annoying the shit out of him until he wants to give up on it entirely.
Which is definitely the point. Ghost has made that perfectly clear.
So, whenever he gets the urge to calm his racing thoughts or overactive mind with a cigarette, he finds Ghost and annoys him instead. They talk, or spar, or simply sit in silence together, doing their own thing. Ghost doesn't often touch him — their moment in Chicago is still the closest Soap's ever gotten to the elusive Ghost — but he also doesn't push Soap away when he slumps into Ghost's side after a hard day or leans over his back when he's sitting at the table in the 141's common area on base.
The urge doesn't go away, of course. And sometimes, when things get really bad, Ghost will just sit or stand with him like he did the third time. Still, he finds himself smoking less and hanging out with Ghost more.
--
The last time Ghost steals a cigarette from Soap, he simply stands beside Soap and holds out his hand. Soap immediately knows something has gone terribly wrong. Still, he's too invested in the game now to not hand the cigarette over.
He nearly keels over when Ghost pulls up his mask and takes a long, hard drag. Soap watches in fascination as his cheeks hollow, his neck muscles strain, his lips curve around the paper. It's erotic in a way he really shouldn't be thinking about in regards to his emotionally unavailable superior officer, but the knowledge hasn't stopped him yet. Since that day in Chicago — probably before if he's honest — he's only ever wanted to be closer.
Ghost coughs a little and hands the cigarette back.
"Fuck. Just as disgusting as I remember."
"Ye used to smoke, then?"
"Before I joined up, yeah. Hated it, though."
"The smell? Or—"
"Everything. The taste, the smell, the heat..." Ghost trails off, his hand rubbing over his bicep in a strangely specific way. He shakes his head and looks back at Soap. "Not your problem, Johnny. Forget about it."
Soap's hand is darting out, fingers curling into Ghost's jacket, before he's properly thought through the action. Ghost pauses before turning back. They stare in silence for a moment until—
Soap stubs out the half-burned cigarette and drops the butt in the trash. He licks his lips. Glances up at Ghost. The mask is still sitting on his nose, and Soap stares at his lips for longer than he should before pulling the pack out of his pocket and throwing it in the trash, too.
"Cannae have ye thinking I stink, can I?"
"Too late."
But Ghost's throat bobs with a hard swallow. Soap wets his lips, takes a step closer, and uncurls his fingers to slide his hand up Ghost's chest until his fingertips are resting on Ghost's shirt collar.
"I dinnae think it is."
Ghost turns and walks away. Soap closes his eyes and drops his hand, internally cursing his impulsive behavior. The scuffing of boots walking away from him is like nails on a chalk board.
Until they stop, and a gruff voice calls out, "You comin'?"
A slow smile slides across Soap's mouth. "No' yet."
A huff — exasperation? laughter? a bit of both? — before, "Better get movin' then."
And Soap has never been more glad to follow an order.
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