thanks for the tags beloveds @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @hippolotamus @disasterbuckdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @barbiediaz 🩵
—sooo i started this one over a year ago, got to 12k, randomly decided i hated it, then proceeded to block it from memory 🙃 after finally opening the doc last night and re-reading it, i decided i don’t hate it and know how i’m gonna finish it now 😅
for context: it’s christmas time, buck is an author, and eddie is doing a shoot with buck for his book covers
He felt Buck tense behind him, the two pressed so closely together that Eddie could feel him swallow, the mans adams apple bobbing up and down.
“You two are doing great!” Chim hollered out. “Buck, if Eddie’s comfortable, I want you to reach one hand around to his front so that you’re resting it just over his….well his package. Eddie, I want you to reach your arms up and around Bucks head so that you’re looking back at him.
Fuck. Was Chimney trying to kill him?
Buck’s breath fanned against his ear once more, Chimney stepping away to grab more film.
“Whata you say pretty boy, can I touch your present?”
Eddie couldn’t help but to snort at Buck using Chimneys lame terminology. He was surprised when Buck huffed out a laugh as well. Maybe the guy wasn’t so bad after all.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
Oh, right.
Eddie assumed his position, bringing his arms up and around Buck so he was looking right into those sharp blues.
“Do your worst kid.”
At the same time Chimney wandered back, camera angled at them, Buck slid a hand around to Eddie’s front, keeping the other at his waistline. Buck’s thumb slipped just under the fabric of his briefs, Eddie swallowing thickly for it. The hand at his front crept closer to his dick, Eddie trying not to clench as Buck’s hand came to rest over him, Eddie begging whoever was listening that his dick would behave for the time being.
“That’s it! Hold the pose gentlemen.”
The camera sounds filled the area around them, Eddie completely oblivious to anything that wasn’t Buck, the man all consuming.
tagging: @loserdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @honestlydarkprincess @buddierights @onward--upward @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @santadiazz @wh0re-behavi0r @wildlife4life @spaceprincessem @giddyupbuck @buckaroosheart
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Thinking about Yasha feeling her connection to the Stormlord flicker, trying to shake off the unease and use her sending stone to Beau and hearing nothing but static. Not silence, nothing so benign, but a sound that makes the hairs on her neck stand up and her heart drop. Two of the steadiest presences in her life, unreachable and the sky gone ripply with the magic pulling at very old and terrible memories of killing and evil and of dying.
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Torturing myself with thoughts of Durge potentially having a very unintended experience the first time she goes on that little weave date with Gale.
.
What if she intends to kiss him in the weave, but her fractured mind conjures up the image of Gortash instead after she pulls away.
It's who she really wants, she just doesn't remember.
Gale is none the wiser, until the weave slips away to reveal a panicked Durge...
Trying to explain what she saw?
Trying to brush it off?
Who is that man burned into what's left of her brain matter? Who was he to her that the weave would pull him forth when she made the decision to pursue Gale?
And laying eyes on him again for real, at Moonrise...
Maybe she finds the Prayer for Forgiveness, and her hands are shaking as she reads, knowing that she penned this.
To her father.
Her God.
To Bhaal.
Scelaritas's words suddenly make sense.
"He would forget his god for you, but you won't for him. Of that I know."
She did forget her god once, it seems.
For Gortash.
After that, she goes to Wyrm's Rock to meet him alone, because she has one burning, inescapable question.
"Who are you to me?"
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So you all know those plots where a loved one of someone disappears for years, decades even and then all of a sudden they reappear but they’re still the same age and no recollection that so much time has passed. Now they have to figure out how to live in this new world. I wanna throw the spouses in that kind of plot.
When Violet Bridgerton was still Violet Ledger she had eight friends she was close to. There was Simon Basset, the much younger brother to the Duke of Hastings but he was an older brother figure to Violet. Kate Sharma, Miles Sharma’s older sister and was like an older sister to Violet as well. Sophie Beckett, the half sister to the heir of Pennwood, a total sweetheart in Violet’s opinion. Penelope Featherington, younger sister to Archibald, and Violet’s fellow wallflower. Phillip Crane, the younger brother of the current Sir Crane and as Violet likes to joke a plant enthusiast. Michael Stirling, the younger brother to the Stirling twins, and one of the biggest rakes of Violet’s generation. Gareth St. Clair, the nephew to Lady Danbury, and a little brother to Violet. And there was Lucy Abernathy, the younger sister to the Abernathy brothers.
Those eight friends were sadly lost to sea when Violet was eighteen. They had left on a boat with promises to return in time for the season. They never came home, and no one knew what happened to them.
Over two decades has passed since then, in that time Violet has become a wife, a mother, and a widow. While she will sometimes wonder what happened to her friends she has moved on with her life, understood that sometimes fate could be a cruel mistress.
She didn’t know how cruel fate could be.
Violet almost dropped the calling cards. It was not possible after two decades, but the proof was in her hands.
Rushing down to the drawing room where she instructed her guests to be put Violet could hear their conversations from the open doorway.
“Simon you owe me ten pounds!” That was Kate.
Simon responded. “For what?”
“I told you it was only a matter of time before Violet married Bridgerton.”
“I really thought she say no, the boy threw mud pies in her hair.”
“You know you could always bet if she’s pregnant or had a kid yet,” Michael joked. “Can make your money back Simon.”
Had a child yet? Some of her old friends were older than her, surely they knew she would be past her child bearing years. The only lady in their group who might still be able to have children is Lucy and even she would be closing in on her years.
But come to think of it, they did still sound rather youthful.
When Violet walked into the drawing room she saw that no, none of her old friends were past their child bearing years.
Walking back into that drawing room was almost like walking back in time. None of her friends had aged a day from Violet’s memories. Violet could only tell she was still here in the present is that they now wore today’s fashion, The girls with their empire waist dresses, and the men whose pants now reached their ankles instead of their knees. They looked like they could friends with her children-
Oh god, they were the same age as her children.
All of a sudden they all looked up at her. Every single one of them stared at Violet in shock.
“Violet? Violet Ledger?”
“You got so old!”
Violet sat down, “And none of you have aged at all in the last twenty plus years.”
They all looked confused. “What do you mean twenty years?”
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