#developing relationship

[bluelinen]

𝕴𝖓𝖋𝖑𝖚𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

Pairing: Friend's older brother!Choso x fem!Reader Synopsis: After a moment in the Kamo household the thread of your story has been entwined with those of the two boys who live there. One, a boy you met during your first semester of college who’s warm smile firmly burrowed it's way deep into your heart. The other, his older brother with an air of mystery and the sultry lingering scent of crushed cigarettes following close behind him. The way his eyes roam over you rocks your world and unbeknownst to even himself, he'd give anything, do anything just to keep your eyes fixed back squarely, solely onto him.

Your knuckles rapt several times on the wooden door and the moment your eyes caught sight of the figure behind it you knew you were done for.

Itadori had brought up his brother once or twice before. A quiet dude. Dishevelled looking, usually tired. Keeps to himself and almost never leaves his room, let alone his apartment. You expected something like that when Yuji sent a text informing you that he needed to get a few errands done so it’d be a while before he’d get back for that study session.

‘My big bro’ll be home, he’ll open up for you.’

Some hermit, a odd looking dude who looked like he’d never seen the light of day. While beholding him now you find that the description wasn't entirely a lie.. But god was it far from the truth.

Whatever.. whoever you expected, it wasn’t him.

The wooden door drew open and your face was immediately met with the faded print of the large t-shirt that fitted nicely over his broad chest.

You blinked. How tall was this guy? You considered yourself a pretty average height, a lot of guys were taller than you but this.. this was stupid. You had to actively tilt your head upwards and you obliged to do so, your eyes trailing upwards along the serpentine ink around his neck, the small head of the reptilian creature making an appearance just under the black stud in his left ear as the guy tilted his head to the side with indifference, stretching the muscles of his slender neck.

A soft yawn drew your attention to the lips that parted for its escape. You found it a lovely sound, a sound you wouldn’t mind hearing again once. Maybe twice. A couple more times actually..

You figured it wouldn't be long before you'd hear it again when your clear eyes flickered up to his far muddier ones. It was like he had just gotten out of bed. Sleeping a few minutes before begrudgingly coming to answer the door. Or rather attempting at sleeping, quite unsuccessfully as evidenced by the dark circles under his dark dark eyes.

Those deep brown lenses gave insight to no particular emotion or thought you found, but were still so mesmerising, so much so you almost didn’t register the large stripe of black tattooed over the bridge of his nose. Which was quite unprecedented considering the fact that it was the most noticeable feature of his face, stretching from the side of one cheek to the other. It was an unusual place for an unusual tattoo but you felt it fit him well as did his strong nose and his pretty.. pretty lips..

My god he was hot.

“You’re Yuji’s friend.. Right?” He asked, sluggishly blinking down at your form, his voice a mellow hum. A pale heavy hand reached up to scratch the back of his head, inching a few strands of hair out of it’s messy updo as he gazed somewhat skywards, seemingly addressing more himself than you. “He did say a friend was coming over...”

He blinked again and focused his eyes back onto you. “Uh.. You’re welcome to stay and wait for him till he comes back.”

You barely took in what he was saying, quite frankly struck dumb at the make of the man standing before you. There’s no way he was real.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed and an expression of slight bewilderment crosses over his. One eyebrow raising slightly, the twin piercings hooked into it moving with him as he took in your odd gaze. It wasn’t everyday he opened his door to find a stare like yours waiting for him. He shifted a little at his doorframe, waiting for your response to his offer.

A few seconds passed before you realised you’d been staring too long and your face warmed as you promptly swerved your gaze to the right, focusing on a small rut in the wall. You let out a nervous little laugh as you asked the obvious question. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

His features relaxed as he observed the change in your manner, giving you a subtle smile as he leaned slightly against the doorway, a tattooed wrist sliding into the pocket of his loose pants. “Would you like to come in and wait for my brother?”

You nodded a little in embarrassment. “Yeah.. That’d be great.”

He moved to the side, giving you space to step in. “Come in.”

As you moved in through the front door you heard a sudden jingle and subconsciously reached for your phone only for the guy to already have his in hand, his brows narrowing slightly at the screen before he looks back over to you again.

“Yuji won’t be back for a while.” He began. You nodded.

“He said he’d be picking up some things didn’t he?”

He shook his head slightly. “That was before. He’ll be gone a lot longer than whatever time that was supposed to take him.”

You wondered what on earth he was talking about until he uttered the word ‘coach’ and it all made a lot more sense.

“Ah..” You sighed. It wasn’t long before the vibration in your pocket informed you of the same thing.

“He says he’ll get back as soon as he can..” Your eyes glance over the ‘sorry’ message on the screen.

Knowing that man he’d probably keep Yuji there till the very next morning. You wondered if you should just reschedule, who knew when he’d get back.. But you’d already made your way here and to make a journey all the way back to that bus stop just to wait on transport with that unreliable timetable, in the cold too, didn’t seem all that appealing. You had your materials and counted on studying all the difficult stuff with Yuji.

Not that he’d probably be of help or anything but struggling together would be fun.. and he did say the most surprisingly conductive things at times. You didn’t mind waiting for Yuji but you also made a glance at his older brother standing before you, arms crossed as he looked over you with a pending stare.

You didn’t want to be a bother.

“You’re still welcome to stay if you want.” Choso states as if having sensed your dilemma.

You looked up at him with a small smile, feeling relieved to hear the simple sentence.

You nodded.

“Okay.”

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

A/N: Kinda realised that I should probably promote this fanfic on tumblr too :P

Chapter 2 is out on Ao3 !! if you liked this intro chapter check it out if you think you'd like to follow a more serialised story from me ^^

#Bluessheets+.+ #college au #eventual fluff #eventual romance #eventual smut #developing relationship #choso #choso kamo #choso loml #choso my beloved #jjk choso #jjk fanfic #choso x fem reader #choso x reader #choso x you #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso jjk #kamo choso #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fandom #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #no use of y/n

[aziraphales-library]

Hello!! I was just wondering if you knew of any fics similar to In Love We Rise by AJ_Constantine, like in the sense that they're slowly exploring and figuring each other out, like eventually progressing up to kissing and then, y'know, but in a fluffy kind of way? Im not sure if that makes any sense tho but thank you anyway! (P.s. i love this blog so much, you people are actually amazing at this! I hope you all have a lovely day/night :])

Hi! You might be interested in our #developing relationship tag for fics along these lines. Here are some more for you...

Love and Lust in Mesopotamia by The_Bentley (E)

Living among humans means sampling their activities, including the sexual ones. There's only one problem. Crawly isn't interested in women, but he is in Aziraphale, who is attracted to him in return. If Crawly agrees, Aziraphale would like to show him that physical affection can exist between two beings who are presenting as the same gender.

It's Getting Hard, This Holding Back by ZehWulf (T)

6,000-odd years is a long time to evolve a romantic relationship, but as a near-immortal being, Crowley had patience. True, they had lost momentum right around reaching the Speaking Looks and Meaningful Gestures stage, but at the time Crowley had been more or less content to let things idle. Now, he was determined to shift things back into gear, and that gear was Explicitly Romantic Physical Expressions of Affection.

Resonance by Macx (T)

They had been friends for six millennia. They had been on their side. There had only been their side. Of course, they had never known it until it was all supposed to end. They had stood against their respective sides, had been hurt, had suffered, had felt desperation, fear and terror. Now it was suddenly over and both Crowley and Aziraphale have to deal with the consequences. Not just those of Up Yours and Down There. They have come a long way at a very slow pace. They have come so much further in just within day. And they were still going incredibly fast, changing, evolving, becoming something that might be part of the Ineffable Plan...

The professor, the old crush, the new love by AccroV (E)

Aziraphale Fell is an english literature professor who freaks out when he discovers that his new colleague is his ex best-friend and crush from high school : the one and only Anthony Crowley. They didn't talk for years after one night in high school. What can happen now ? An AU with : high school memories, awkward flirting and lot of good feelings

Chemistry by Twilightcitysky (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley have been living among humans for 6000 years, but there have always been parts of the human experience they've chosen to avoid (like allergies, head colds, and having to use the loo). They've also never let hormones get in the way of making rational decisions, because they didn't have any hormones to speak of. That's all about to change.

Introduction to Touch by sheendav (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley survive the Not-Pocalypse and profess their love for one another, but Aziraphale has tremendous anxiety about pursuing a physical relationship with Crowley. He genuinely wishes to move forward, but past fears surrounding touch, intimacy and body image are prohibiting him from acting on what his heart (and corporation) really want. Crowley is ready to go as slowly and carefully as needed to be there for his Angel as they pursue their new "Arrangement" step by careful, sweet step.

And the one you mentioned...

In Love We Rise by AJ_Constantine (E)

Ever since the thwarted apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley have gradually expanded the boundaries of their relationship. Aziraphale has delighted in slow progression of lingering touches, tender embraces and chaste kisses. He enjoys the demon's company more than ever, but one evening he finds himself in an odd sort of mood, nettlesome and heartsore, and declines Crowley's offer to take him out to dinner. He figures that once he has a good sulk in the privacy of his bookshop, he'll get over it. Crowley decides that won't do, and drags the recalcitrant angel out on a mysterious mission, which ends up taking them on a path that neither of them expects it to.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #adult omens #developing relationship #fluff #mod d

[kjack89]

New Year's Day

For @impetusofadream, who was the winner of my auction for the @bishopmyrielfundraiser! As promised, I matched the donation from the auction with a donation of my own to First Defense Legal Aid in Chicago.

The prompt for this fic was touch starved with holidays mixed in, and I could not resist the temptation to go with the holiday we're currently in. @impetusofadream, I hope you enjoy, and I especially hope that you have a fabulous 2024!

There were, Enjolras thought as he let himself into the Musain relatively early in the morning on January 1, two types of people in the world who were given keys to their most-frequented bars. He, of course, fell in the first camp, that being those the proprietors trusted to lock up when their meetings ran unusually long.

The other was more—

“Grantaire?” Enjolras said, surprised, when he saw Grantaire slumped on a bar stool.

Well, it wasn’t the first time Grantaire had just spent the night rather than stumble home. And given everything, Enjolras highly doubted it would be the last.

Still, it would inevitably make his job that morning that much more difficult, and he sighed, about to go wake the man and force him out when Grantaire straightened, giving Enjolras a surprisingly sober smile. “Happy New Year,” he said, standing up from the bar stool without so much as a wobble.

Enjolras blinked. “You’re not drunk.”

“And your powers of observation remain unparalleled,” Grantaire said, stretching.

Enjolras couldn’t help but watch as the hem of Grantaire’s shirt crept up as he stretched, revealing a taut strip of skin that he wanted to— He tore his eyes away, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I just assumed you slept here, which you normally only do when you are deeply inebriated.”

Grantaire considered it for a moment and shrugged. “Fair point. But no, I did not sleep here last night.”

“Then why are you here?” Enjolras asked, curious, finally shrugging out of his jacket and setting it over the back of a chair.

“Well, I know you volunteered to clean up this morning after last night’s party, and I just thought—” He broke off, a frown creasing his forehead as Enjolras shivered. “You’re shivering.”

“Evidently your powers of observation are just as good as mine,” Enjolras muttered, rubbing his arms.

Grantaire’s frown deepened as he glanced at the red jacket Enjolras had been wearing. “Where’s your winter coat?”

“What are you, my mother?” Enjolras snarked, though it was somewhat undercut by his teeth chattering, just slightly. “I didn’t know it was going to get this cold, or snow. Or that the heat in this place is so abysmal.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Ok, that latter one you definitely should have,” he huffed before holding his arms out. “Come here.”

Enjolras hesitated. “Why?” he asked warily.

Grantaire just gave him a look. “Just get your ass over here.”

Enjolras hesitated for only a moment more before crossing to him. Grantaire immediately wrapped him in a hug, pulling him close against his chest. It felt— Well, if Enjolras was being honest with himself, it felt absolutely heavenly. Grantaire always ran warm, but it was never more apparent than in that moment. Enjolras felt almost like he’d been embraced by a mini-furnace, especially as Grantaire rubbed his arms, his touch surprisingly gentle.

Enjolras’s eyelids fluttered closed as he tipped his head forward to rest it against Grantaire’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said, his voice slightly muffled. “This is helping.”

“Wearing proper outwear would probably help more,” Grantaire told him, but judging by his voice, he was smiling, just a little.

“Yeah, but who needs outwear when I have you,” Enjolras mumbled. “Though this probably isn’t helping your hangover.”

Grantaire laughed lightly, his chest rumbling against Enjolras’s. “It’s a good thing I’m holding on to you, because this one might knock you over: I’m not hungover.”

Enjolras pulled back just far enough to frown at him. “Really?”

“Always with the tone of surprise,” Grantaire said dryly. “But yes, really. I decided to take myself home early last night.” He shrugged, his hands slowing, mostly just resting against Enjolras’s arms at this point. “Irish goodbyed and got home long before the ball dropped, so plenty of time to sleep it off.”

“But why did you leave so early?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire started to answer but then seemed to realize that they were still holding onto each other and cleared his throat, taking a step backward. Enjolras didn’t quite whimper at the loss of heat, but it was pretty close. Grantaire shoved his hands in his pockets, not making eye contact. “How about I make coffee?” he suggested. “That’ll warm us both up.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said. “Sure. Good idea. And I’ll just go, uh…”

“See how much damage our friends managed to cause?” Grantaire supplied, giving Enjolras a small but genuine smile. “Imagine if the owners decided to kick us out after all these years. They might actually get taken off of the various FBI watchlists they’ve ended up on.”

“Marius is pretty sure that the ‘providing material aid to terrorists’ charges would never stick anyway,” Enjolras said blithely, and Grantaire laughed.

“Then we definitely need to do a thorough job of cleaning.”

Enjolras nodded and headed to the backroom, mentally preparing for the chaos he would inevitably find. It’s not that their friends were purposefully destructive, except for when they needed to be, of course, but a little alcohol and a lot of exuberance – ok, a lot of alcohol and somehow even more exuberance – meant that accidents happened. Like spilling a variety of drinks, missing the garbage can when throwing things out, and so on.

Enjolras pushed the door open and stood staring at the carnage for a long moment. 

It wasn’t the worst he’d ever seen.

But that wasn’t saying much.

He took a deep, steadying breath and got to work.

He had planned to put on a podcast or something while cleaning, but with Grantaire there, he felt weird about it, so just cleaned in silence with no company but his own thoughts, which also wouldn’t normally bother him, save for the fact that his thoughts kept straying back to Grantaire, and how warm he had been, and how amazing that had felt.

Shaking his head to clear it, Enjolras grabbed the stack of red solo cups Bahorel and Feuilly had been using for beer pong and stuffed them into the garbage bag with more force than was necessary. But even when trying not to think about Grantaire hugging him, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering why Grantaire’s would’ve left early.

Enjolras’s usual excuses for ducking out early were needing to get an early start the next day, or being tired from having an early start that day, but he knew Grantaire, and he knew that Grantaire had never let either of those stop him.

He frowned down at an empty pizza box and jumped when he heard someone clear his throat. “Sorry,” Grantaire said, holding two steaming mugs. “Was trying not to startle you and obviously didn’t succeed.”

“It’s fine,” Enjolras said, a little too quickly. 

Grantaire just looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Well, bad news on the coffee front – couldn’t find any, but I did find hot chocolate.”

He held a coffee mug out to Enjolras, who quickly accepted it, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. “Hot chocolate is perfect,” he said, closing his eyes as he took a sip. 

When he opened his eyes again, Grantaire was looking at him with an odd, unreadable expression, and Enjolras frowned. “Problem?”

“More than we have any hope of delving into here and now,” Grantaire said with a forced sort of cheer. “Why don’t I take over trash duty and you can start on wiping down tables and sweeping?”

Enjolras took another sip of hot chocolate. “Works for me.”

They settled into a comfortable sort of silence as they worked, and it only Grantaire taking two trips out to the dumpster in the alleyway for Enjolras to realize that he volunteered for trash duty to save Enjolras from having to brave the cold again.

Somehow, that made him feel warmer than either the hug or the hot chocolate.

As did the fact that they worked well together. That wasn’t exactly a secret, of course, even if Enjolras preferred not to dwell on it too much. But they had always made a good team, at least when both parties were willing to put in the effort, each man making up for the other’s weaknesses. And evidently that extended to cleaning up after a New Year’s Eve party, and Enjolras definitely tried not to think about what other areas of their lives that it might extend to.

Well, he tried. Just not very successfully.

But his reverie was broken by what sounded like a stifled snicker, and Enjolras frowned at Grantaire. “What?” he asked, preemptively defensive.

“Nothing,” Grantaire said quickly. Too quickly.

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Liar.”

Grantaire wet his bottom lip with his tongue, not able to stop his smirk. “It’s just, uh, you’re holding the broom kind of weird.”

Enjolras looked from Grantaire down to the broom and back to Grantaire again, affronted. “How the hell else am I supposed to hold it?”

“Like you grew up having to actually do chores instead of having a housekeeper to do it,” Grantaire said, saccharine sweet.

Enjolras glowered at him, more mad about not having a comeback to that than anything, especially since countering that he had a live-in au pair, not a housekeeper, was not likely to score him the points he needed to recover.

Instead, he settled for holding the broom out towards Grantaire. “Fine,” he snapped, “Clearly you should do it, if you’re so good at it.”

Grantaire’s smirk widened. “Ok.”

But instead of taking it, Grantaire stepped behind Enjolras, as close as they had been when hugging, reaching around him to carefully reposition Enjolras’s hands into what he clearly deemed the correct position on the broom. “See,” he said, his voice low in Enjolras’s ear. “It’s not exactly rocket science, is it.”

Enjolras would have been irritated by the fact that it was in fact easier to sweep when holding the broom like this, but he was distinctly more occupied by the warmth of Grantaire, pressed against his back, and the fact that Grantaire’s hands were still resting on top of his.

It was a strange but perfect moment.

And Enjolras promptly ruined it.

He turned to face Grantaire, realized that this put their faces about an inch apart, and tried to take a step backwards, only to stumble over a chair he could’ve sworn was not there before he turned around. Grantaire reached out automatically to steady him, his smile fading. “Are you ok?” Grantaire asked. “Don’t tell me you need me to teach you how to mop next.”

But Enjolras didn’t laugh, or even just roll his eyes. Instead, he asked, “Why did you leave early?”

Grantaire looked momentarily confused before his expression evened out. “Oh, it was nothing,” he said dismissively, but he couldn’t quite meet Enjolras’s eyes as he said it. “I was tired, and—”

“Why did you really leave early?” Enjolras interrupted.

Grantaire’s eyes darted to Enjolras’s and away again, and he shrugged. “I didn’t want to start 2024 the same way I started 2023. And 2022. And 2021. And—”

“I get the picture,” Enjolras interrupted. He hesitated before asking, “The same way, how?”

Again Grantaire just shrugged. “Wanting something I can’t have.”

Enjolras was suddenly aware of Grantaire’s hand still gripping his arm where he’d caught him before falling, and the touch felt even more scalding hot than the cocoa had. 

A scalding hot reminder that he was playing with fire.

But Enjolras was also tired of this, of ringing in a new year with the same thing lingering between them that neither man seemed willing to take the final step to address. And maybe, given everything else happening in the world, it would be worth it even if 2024 was the year he finally got burned.

“Who says you can’t have it?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Grantaire just shook his head.

“Enjolras—”

But Enjolras had already closed what little space there was between them to kiss him, a somewhat tentative and chaste press of his lips against Grantaire’s. 

He almost pulled away, but Grantaire’s grip on his arm tightened. “I see I’m going to have to teach you the proper technique for that, too,” Grantaire said, his voice low, and Enjolras immediately scowled.

“I don’t need you to teach me—”

Grantaire kissed him, a slow, heady kiss that had Enjolras’s mouth opening against his on instinct alone, and ok, maybe he had a point. He released Enjolras’s arm so that he could wrap his arm around Enjolras’s waist instead, pulling him in close. His other hand carded through Enjolras’s still-damp curls, and Enjolras’s last semi-coherent thought was to wonder if it was possible for a person to melt.

Then Grantaire licked into his mouth and Enjolras stopped having any coherent thoughts altogether.

Sometime later – it could have been minutes, or hours for all Enjolras knew – they broke apart just far enough to catch their breath, both men grinning like idiots. “What are you thinking about?” Enjolras asked as Grantaire reached down to tangle his fingers with Enjolras’s.

He lifted their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to Enjolras’s knuckles before telling him, “Just that I achieved my resolution in record time.”

“What was your resolution?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire’s grin widened. “To actually get up the courage to do that.”

Enjolras’s face softened, even though he couldn’t stop himself from saying, even as he took a step closer to Grantaire, “Is now a good time to point out that technically, I was the one who got up the courage to do that?”

“Semantics, schmantics,” Grantaire murmured, kissing him once again.

Enjolras laughed lightly against Grantaire’s lips. “Good to see some things haven’t changed.”

“Just for the better for once,” Grantaire said, his lips ghosting over Enjolras’s, and Enjolras laughed again, resting his hand on Grantaire’s chest.

“In that case,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Grantaire’s mouth, “Happy New Year, Grantaire.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire said, pulling him even closer. “I think it will be.”

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #developing relationship #touchstarved #new year's day #May all your 2024s be incredible

[deancaspinefest]

One Drop, when What You Need is the Ocean.

Author: Baileys | Artist: sidewinder

Posting on Friday March 15

Cas disappears after leaving once again to help the angels.  With God gone, Mary defected to the British men of letters, and the other major players all on their best behaviour, Dean tries to carry on as normal, hunt the things and save the people.  But the longer time goes by without so much as a text, the more his worry spirals. Then, just when all hope is lost, like the supernatural yo-yo he is Cas is back.  Only something or someone has siphoned off grace he didn’t have to spare.  As they embark on yet another case together, it’s a race against time to stop whoever it is from finishing the job and removing Cas from Dean’s life for good.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“I thought you said no one died here?”  They both step out of the Impala, grabbing their gear from her trunk.  Dean follows Sam down the hill heading for the nearby woods lining the property.  

“I said no one’s on record dying here.” Handing Dean a shovel, he has the nerve to wink. 

Walking across the wet overgrown grass, Dean decides to spark up less work-related conversation.  “So, you speak to Eileen recently?” 

“Nope.” Sam charges ahead, “you talk to Cas?”

Dean stops dead in his tracks.  It’s not the fact Sam would equate him and Cas as the same as him and Eileen, it’s that Cas has been radio silent for ten straight days now.  “That’s not funny, man.”  He manages to get out around the lump suddenly clogging his throat.

Something of his panic must come through in his words because Sam stops walking and turns around, lips pulling tight.  “Sorry, I know you’re worried.” 

“You must be too, right?  I mean this isn’t like him.”

Another, more complex expression passes over his brother’s face and suddenly Dean doesn’t want to know what he thinks.  “I mean, I talk to Cas, but honestly, unless there’s something major going down, I don’t see a few days without contact as a big deal.”

“Ten!” He shouts.  “It’s been ten days Sam and nothing, I- I’ve sent him texts he hasn’t read, left messages he hasn’t picked up, this isn’t like him, he -”

“He’s probably just lost his phone -” Sam shrugs, placating at first but then he cuts himself off mid-sentence and stares pointedly at Dean.  “How do you know he’s not picked up his messages?”  He pauses for a response, but when Dean starts walking and keeps his head down, he draws his own conclusion.  “Oh my god, you hacked his phone!”

“I had to!”  Dean cries in outrage, waving the shovel above his head.  “Hey, don’t give me that face!  I needed to know.”

Sam does indeed give him ‘the face’, adding an eyeroll for good measure as they continue towards their vengeful spirit’s grave.  “Next, you’ll be telling me you’ve put a tracker in it too.” 

“No,” He looks quickly away, keeping a steady pace, “but you are the second he comes back.”

“Dean, I am not invading Cas’ privacy just because you’re a controlling asshole.”

“What if he agreed?”  He asks.

“I’d tell him he doesn’t have to, because I know he’ll say yes to anything you ask.”

“Oh, he would not.” 

Reaching the graveyard, Sam tugs on his arm and stops them both, making Dean face him.  “Do you know where his phone is now?”

Dean manages to feign obliviousness for all of five seconds before blurting the answer.  “Maine.  It pinged off a cell tower in Fort Foster three days ago.”

Raising his shovel and making the first indent in the soil, Sam looks over at Dean, “So we heading to Maine as soon as we’re done here?”

Dean smiles, his first real smile in ten days.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Friday March 15)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: Baileys #artist: sidewinder #Alternate Season/Series 12 #Developing Relationship #sharing a bed

[aurae-rori]

after pain : aventio fic

— #aventio #ratiorine fic

— poetic narrative

— relationship/character analysis

— fluffy and comfy :)

— technically wrote this awhile back lmao

— 2.3k words https://archiveofourown.org/works/54107008

#aventio #ratiorine #veritas ratio #hsr aventurine #hsr ratio #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio #aventurine hsr #honkai star rail #hsr #philosophy #poetic narrative #fluff #comfort #aventio comfort #dr ratio x aventurine #i love homos #extended metaphors #character study #relationship study #established relationship #developing relationship #implied/referenced child abuse #written before aventurine release #live laugh aventio #soft dr ratio #compare and contrast #aventurine has issues #aventurine needs a hug #alright im done i think

[neontoad]

“One soul in two bodies”, people often say about Double Black. Chuuya calls bullshit on that. It’s ridiculous. But then why every time Chuuya comes to work after tossing and turning in bed all night unable to fall asleep, he sees that Dazai has dark circles under eyes as well? Why every time when Chuuya checks his phone at 3am, insomnia eating him alive, he sees that Dazai is online, too? Why does it feel like there is one more person wide awake in the sleeping city when Chuuya’s staring at the ceiling, as wakeful as ever?

One night, a message pops up on his phone.

🐟: You awake?

“Fuck off,” Chuuya mumbles to himself and turns the screen off. The night is quiet. The air still seems to be vibrating after the notification chime. He counts seconds.

Nothing disturbs the silence anymore.

The next day Dazai keeps yawning and stealing glances at Chuuya as they sit in another boring meeting. He ignores him, even though every time Dazai covers his mouth with his hand, Chuuya can’t help but yawn too.

He sleeps well that night. He knows Dazai does, too - he can tell by how stupidly annoying he is the next day. Chuuya knows well that only well-rested Dazai possesses such a ridiculous ability to get on Chuuya’s nerves in record time. He sleeps okay again. And again. And again. Chuuya even starts thinking that maybe he’s finally out of that cursed bout of insomnia. Seems like Dazai managed to get some sleep, too.

Until another night comes.

He’s exhausted - they have just finished a mission, the last one in a strenuous sequence, and the only thing Chuuya wants is to sleep until next week.

He can’t.

His phone chimes.

He doesn’t bother looking - he knows who’s texting him. Dazai’s insomnia is not his problem.

He lies with his eyes closed, hoping that maybe, just maybe he’ll be able to trick his brain into finally shutting down and letting him fall into Morpheus’ embrace, giving him the rest he so desperately needs. He doesn’t know how much time passes until he hears a knock.

“The fuck you want?” Chuuya grumbles, looking at Dazai miserably standing in the hallway of his apartment building.

“Just checking on my dear partner.”

“It’s 4 in the morning.”

“You make it sound like it’s a problem.”

“I was sleeping, you bastard.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Dazai yawns and Chuuya follows suit, stretching his sore muscles. Fuck this, he thinks. I’ll let him be. Without saying a word, he turns on his heel and marches to the kitchen. Dazai follows him and plops on the stool. He probably thinks he looks smug. He looks like shit.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” he croaks and smiles.

“Fuck off,” Chuuya says, pouring Dazai three fingers and sliding it across the table before stopping in front of his wine cabinet. That’ll do, he thinks and pours himself a glass of red.

“You know, chibi,” Dazai muses, watching the ice in his glass bob up and down, “I blame you.”

Chuuya takes a sip of wine. He wonders if he looks as stern as he hopes he is. Or does he, akin to Dazai, resemble a miserable stray dog? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care.

“Whenever you can’t sleep, neither can I,” he continues. “It’s like we have some kind of invisible bond.”

Despite his fatigue, Chuuya can’t help but chuckle. Invisible bond! Dazai sure loves these stupid pretentious speeches. What an emo.

He downs his wine and goes to the living room. “Take your ass with your invisible bond to the couch,” he commands. “Let’s play.”

“It’s not a laughing matter!” Dazai whines but obeys, finishing his whiskey and leaving the cup on the table like the ungrateful pig he is.

Whiskey made him feel warm and fuzzy, making the unwelcoming sleepless night feel slightly less dire. Besides, playing video games with the slug is certainly a better pastime than tossing and turning on his old mattress. They play for a few hours, sleepiness going away as they keep beating each other in a video game, pushing each other with their shoulders and yelling at the top of their lungs.

Chuuya doesn’t care about his neighbours complaining - there’s no one living above him anymore, anyway.

The dark night gives way to the pale morning, timid rays of sun sneaking through the closed blinds. A ray falls on the empty whiskey cup, the last drops of the amber liquid shining like gold under the light. Another one shines on the shattered controller lying in the corner. Another ray of sun caresses the leaves of a half-dead plant on the bookshelf. Another - the picture on the wall, the five people on it forgotten by all but one. Another - the cobweb on the ceiling. Another - the brass door handle. As more time passes, the sun gets more comfortable dancing in the small apartment, its rays travelling across the walls, trinkets and furniture until they reach the boys sprawled on the couch.

Their breath is even, chests rising and falling in unison. Chuuya’s head is resting on Dazai’s lap, his hand against his chest still holding the beaten controller. He squirms when the sun shamelessly goes across his eyes but doesn’t wake up.

Neither does Dazai. He just smiles through his sleep and puts his hand on Chuuya’s back. The rays of sun stall before continuing to move across the room as if taking in the unusual, eerily peaceful atmosphere in the living room, the raging fire turned into quiet embers for a bit.

Chuuya might call bullshit on the “one soul in two bodies” idea.

But… the sun surely knows better.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #skk #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #soukoku #mini fic #teen skk #pm skk #literal sleeping together #soft skk #developing relationship

[hockeylovee12]

Anyone But Him

Table of Contents

Jack Hughes x Original Character

Summary: Over the course of a year Sadie Howe and Jack Hughes find themselves falling hard for one another only problem is Sadie is the best friend of Luke Hughes, Jack’s younger brother. Read along to find out their story plays out.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I previously posted a version of this story with a prologue, but I write this story on AO3 and I wanted to try my hand at coding, and at then when I came back to writing I realized I didn't actually need my prologue and decided to just recreate it, so this is the version that will contain the full work, the other version will be left up, because I don't believe in deleting my work, and I still like it it just doesn't work this, so just keep that in mind if you read the prologue, then come here and notice inconsistencies, it's because they weren't written with the intent of going together. Additionally, as I mentioned this is posted on AO3. Once a chapter is completed it will be posted below. Please feel free to leave any feedback for me in asks! And feel free to share just don’t take credit for my work please!

Characters

Sadie

Jack

Luke

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

#luke hughes #nj devils #jack hughes #hughes brothers #original character #original story #best friends brother #secrets #lies #developing relationship #jack hughes romance #betrayal #summer antics #2021-2022 season

[lowkey-a-loser]

Deeper Feelings (Satoru Gojo x fem!Reader)

Hii!

This is my very first time writing something like this, so I apologize for any future mistakes or mischaracterization made in the following work🙏 

Hope you enjoy! 

*********************

[Chapter One] - Subtle Intentions

It was the beginning of their second year at Tokyo Jujutsu High when Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and (Y/N) were stopping by a café. They just finished a mission and agreed on checking out this new place to grab themselves some refreshments.

(Y/N), whose drink was served first, was sent to find a table for the group. Satoru had followed her after convincing his best friend to order his drink for him.

The female sorcerer settled at a booth by the windows, Satoru sat in the seat opposite of her.

Bits of strawberry in her drink sunk to the bottom of her cup, which she stirred up with the straw before taking a sip. She almost couldn't hold back a squeal at the sweet flavor of her go-to beverage.

Then a quiet, zoned out Satoru caught her attention. Quiet? That was a bit odd for someone like him.

At least he seemed quiet. In reality, Satoru's attention was stuck (Y/N). He took notice of the little excitement she had shown after tasting her strawberry lemonade, a beverage he thought suited her perfectly-sweet, refreshing, and cute.

(Y/N) gave it some thought and let out a soft hum. "You want some?" She asked, holding her cup out to the boy across from her. She figured she'd offer some to the guy, thinking that they were at least close enough to share snacks or drinks like this.

Satoru blinked. He looked surprised at the offer and raised his cheek off of his fist. She was practically offering him a kiss! Well, an indirect kiss.

Not that Satoru was complaining. He's been crushing on this girl for a while now, almost letting the thought of that indirect kiss fluster him. Luckily, the sorcerer was able to contain himself.

"Eh? Sure!" He accepted in his usual energetic tone, taking the beverage from her hand.

Satoru paused before drinking it.

He couldn't help but notice the faint lip gloss residue on the straw, left by the cute girl in front of him. His gaze impulsively flickered between the pink stain and (Y/N)'s glossy lips.

Ah, damn.

He sucked in a breath of air. "Then, thank you for the drink~" His words came out in a playful song. It was an attempt to play off the subtle pink tint coloring his face. If he had to be honest, the sugary sweet strawberry lemonade fit his tastes amazingly, especially considering how much of a sweet tooth he had.

Except, the sweetness of the drink only added to the sweetness of (Y/N), or at least it did to him. As dark as his round black frames were, there was no doubt about it-Satoru's vision was obscured by rose tinted glasses.

The girl didn't seem to notice the subtle hesitation he had, or the glances he stole at her.

Satoru chuckled lightly at that, thinking about how innocent this girl was. Or rather, how inattentive she was for not noticing his behavior around her. But, he thought her cluelessness was endearing.

He sighed, finally taking a sip, or rather, gulps, of the strawberry lemonade.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened when she noticed how much of the liquid he was consuming. "H- hey! Don't drink it all!"

She hurriedly snatched the plastic cup back, looking disappointed at the amount left remaining. A defeated grumble left her lips.

Satoru laughed, feeling only a bit bad for downing half her lemonade. "Aha~ Sorry, sorry! I'll buy you a new one, swear!" He put his hands up defensively, but his face wore the biggest grin in existence.

The girl knitted her brows, glaring at him disapprovingly. Satoru knew she wasn't truly mad at him, but he did feel a hint of guilt. Was he really going to be this mean to his crush?

(Y/N) huffed. She propped her elbows up on the table before resting her chin in her palms. Satoru had gotten up during this. She saw him making his way to the counter and assumed he went to check on Shoko and Suguru. The liquid in the cup slowly depleted and (Y/N) stirred the straw idly, waiting for Satoru to return with their friends.

After a few long minutes, the three finally met at the table with their drinks in hand. Shoko slid into the booth beside (Y/N). She had ordered some kind of bitter tasting coffee, a drink (Y/N) couldn't find appealing unless it was sweetened. Though she had to admit, she loved the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

Suguru took the next seat across from the girls, the one where Satoru had been sitting earlier. From what (Y/N) could tell, it looked like a hot tea beverage. She thought about how that was just like him-calm, relaxing, and charismatic.

But it seemed like she forgot something.

"Where's Go-" Her concerns were cut off when a certain someone pretty much slammed a drink down in front of her. When she looked up, it was the very white haired teen she was about to mention.

"Ah, Gojo-"

"Haah... Sorry." He groaned exasperatedly. That was when (Y/N) realized that the drink he 'slammed' in front of her was the same strawberry lemonade she just shared with him.

Suguru seemed amused by this, grinning softly at the interaction. Shoko spared a glance, her own face gently creased by her usual unbothered smile.

"Satoru, you should really be more polite, especially when you're apologizing." Suguru chimed in, sampling his tea.

The white haired boy scoffed, shooting Suguru a dirty look. (Y/N) couldn't help but snicker at Satoru's actions. He glanced at her as she did so, rolling his eyes at what he deemed to be-playfully-mocking laughter.

"Well, you kept your word in the end." She commented through chuckles. "You felt bad, didn't you?" A smirk graced her lips as she teased him.

Satoru clicked his tongue at her comment. "Huuhhh!? No way." He denied. "I just thought that look on your face was pitiful, so I did you a favor." He 'explained', sitting down next to Suguru. The two were now diagonal to each other.

"Pfft-" She broke into laughter again, habitually bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. "Aha- ahaha!" It was obvious she didn't fall for that made-up lie, finding it amusing instead of taking offense to it.

Her laughing fit subsided a few seconds later and she wiped away an imaginary tear. "Were you so set on my forgiveness that you forgot your own drink?"

Satoru didn't even notice it himself, but he'd yet to buy his own refreshments. Suguru didn't get him one either, claiming he 'just forgot'.

The white haired sorcerer didn't know what to say to that, only retaliating by refusing to respond.

Both Shoko and Suguru chuckled at his childishness.

(Y/N) giggled as well. Although, she felt a tad bit bad for him, seeing as he went out of his way to make it up to her. "Mm... Thank you anyway, Gojo. Since you were sweet enough to keep your promise, you can have a bit of mine." She proposed.

"A bit, okay? Don't chug it all like earlier..." She warned, eyeing him skeptically despite being the one to offer.

Satoru attempted to seem uncaring, draping his arms over the booth. "Uh huh, of course ." He shrugged, trying to seem as smug as he usually was.

Except, the slight flush on (Y/N)'s cheeks didn't go unnoticed by Satoru. His heart pang at the sight. God, did he like this girl.

She was cute, clumsy, and way too easy to get along with. And she always enjoyed Satoru's company, which he silently appreciated. And God, the way she laughed was just so contagious. She was the kinda girl with a big but quiet smile, the type you'd only get to appreciate if you were really paying attention.

Satoru snapped out of his own thoughts when he noticed himself staring at her again. He quietly hoped that the others didn't catch his change in behavior. He exhaled when he saw them preoccupied with their own conversations.

Unbeknownst to him, Shoko did notice his behavior. He was lucky that Shoko was nice enough not to point it out.

Shoko was a girl, after all. She had a sense for these kinds of things. Well, so did (Y/N). She was great with reading the room, people, and general emotions. Unless it was someone with romantic intentions towards her. Ironically, she struggled with deciphering their feelings, though that might be due to her own fear of confronting them.

"They've been putting us on so many missions lately..." (Y/N) complained, supping her beverage. She groaned at the idea of more missions being piled onto them, Satoru did the same.

"Hey, you should be thankful to have me and Suguru here with you." He referred to themselves being the strongest and shrugged cartoonishly.

(Y/N) clicked her tongue. "Are you kidding me? You guys are probably the reason we're getting so much work." She let out an exasperated sigh.

Suguru grinned at their bickering. "It's because of the sudden increase in cursed spirits." He informed. Although the group already knew that, no one had pointed it out yet.

Shoko didn't say much. Instead, she took out a cigarette to light. (Y/N) noticed that.

"Ah, Shoko," (Y/N) tapped her shoulder before referring her to the no-smoking sign. "I don't think you can do that here."

Shoko let out a small noise of acknowledgement. "Ehh? I see..." She disappointedly tucked her cigarette away, opting to drink the coffee she purchased instead.

A bit of time passes in the café. The group of teens agree that it's about time to get back to campus, and they do so.

On their way back, Satoru steals a few sips of (Y/N)'s drink. Well, it should be fine, right? (Y/N) was the one that offered in the first place. He didn't seem as hesitant about it like he was before. In fact, he was totally taking advantage of her offer now! Not in the way that he was trying to steal her drink, but in the way that Satoru Gojo, whose feelings towards (Y/N) continued to blossom, liked the subtle intimacy with these small acts.

*********************

[End notes]

I'm debating on how much fluff/angst/smut there should be in here, though I didn't initially intend to make it super emotional🤔

My original idea was something cute with a lil smut, but since I decided to start off right before the hidden inventory arc...

Anyway, thanks for reading! Hopefully my writing wasn't too bad lol (feel free to criticize me)

#jjk manga #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #developing relationship #first fanfic #work in progress #friends to lovers #eventual smut #secret crush on you #fluff #light angst #jjk smut

[wangxianficrecs]

The Laoshi and The Yiling Laozu by chiyukimei

The Laoshi and The Yiling Laozu

by chiyukimei (@chiyukimei)

M, 7k, Wangxian

Summary: Burial Mounds era Lan Qiren and Wei Wuxian had time travelled. - Lan Qiren narrowed his eyes. “You’ve heard of the Patriarch of Yiling before, boy?” Wei Wuxian watched his former teacher with suspicion, “Laoshi, you’ve been there when the sun was shot?” Lan Qiren nodded. Kay's comments: It's rare to find a Lan Qiren time-travels story that still feels close to his character like here. Though he's still a much nicer uncle than he is in canon, he actually needs some time warming up to Wei Wuxian after accidently time-travelling together with him. It's also extremely cute to see how much Wei Wuxian enjoys running around younger Lan Wangji and playing with him. Excerpt: A few days later, Lan Qiren caught sight of Wei Wuxian running alongside Lan Wangji, trying to make him smile and shouting non-stop: Lan Zhan this, Lan Zhan that. He tried hard to not roll his eyes at that childish behavior. God forbid, this man was twenty years old, and still, had no trouble blending in with the fifteen-year-olds. After Wangji left, he stopped Wei Wuxian. “What are you doing?” Wei Wuxian asked with a surprised face, “What am I doing?” Lan Qiren, “Why are you pestering Wangji?” Wei Wuxian bit his lower lip, “I’m not pestering him. I just want to be friends with him.” Lan Qiren, “Why?” Wei Wuxian happily exclaimed, “Isn’t it obvious? He is an upstanding, righteous, and beautiful person. Who wouldn’t want to make friends with him? If he smiled a bit all the sisters would be running after him.” “…Hmm, maybe that’s a good thing he doesn’t smile. You don’t have to deal with all those ladies Laoshi!” Lan Qiren grumbled, “Shameless!” Wei Wuxian, “Hah! That’s what Lan Zhan says, all the time! I really forgot how strict he was even when he was a teenager.”

pov lan qiren, canon divergence, humor, crack treated seriously, time travel, time travel fix-it, burial mounds settlement days, burial mounds ensemble as family, cloud recesses study arc, wei wuxian is so whipped, sect leader wen qing, developing relationship

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

#April 2024 #Wangxian Fic Rec #The Untamed #Wangxian #MDZS #Kay's Rec #short fic <15k #Mature #The Laoshi and The Yiling Laozu #chiyukimei #pov lan qiren #canon divergence #humor #crack treated seriously #time travel #time travel fix-it #burial mounds settlement days #burial mounds ensemble as family #cloud recesses study arc #wei wuxian is so whipped #sect leader wen qing #developing relationship

[atths--twice]

Breakfast and Bed

Lazy Sunday mornings are meant for breakfast in bed... or breakfast and THEN bed...

She watched Mulder darting back and forth in his kitchen, mumbling under his breath as he attempted to make scrambled eggs and toast. 

“Sure you don’t need any help?” she asked, biting her bottom lip to keep from smiling. 

“As I previously stated, no thank you. I’ve got it covered, Scully.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, but he did not hear as a pan slammed onto the stove top and she cleared her throat to cover her laughter. 

Crossing her bare legs, she lifted the collar of Mulder’s t-shirt to her nose and closed her eyes as she breathed in the combination of laundry soap, fabric softener, his cologne that no matter how many times the shirt was washed still continued to linger, and the scent that was simply him. 

“Hmm,” she hummed again, opening her eyes and smiling as she heard him swearing quietly. 

It was Sunday morning and he had promised her breakfast last night as they had fallen asleep, their naked bodies nestled together. 

“You have food here?” she had asked skeptically and his low rumbling chuckle had caused her to grin. 

“I’ve started stocking the fridge more now that I have a lady friend sleeping over.” 

“You have a lady friend? When do I get to meet her?” she had teased him and he chuckled again, his fingers running so lightly across her stomach, she had quivered with a moan. 

“It’s you,” he had whispered and she smiled, his lips on her neck drawing out another moan. “How does eggs and toast sound?” 

“Better than nothing. Or expired ketchup.” 

“Watch it, or that’s what you’ll be getting.” 

“No, I don’t think so. You wouldn’t do that to your lady friend,” she had said and he had laughed through his nose, kissing her hair as his arms tightened around her. 

So now he was making the breakfast he had promised as she waited patiently, listening to him and smelling his shirt, so achingly happy it was borderline disgusting. 

“So, uh,” Mulder said, walking into the room in a pair of black pajama pants and a gray t-shirt and carrying two cups of steaming coffee. “The toaster is being a little temperamental. I’m remaking the toast.” 

“No rush,” she said, taking the coffee he offered as he set his own cup down onto the table. 

She saw his eyes glance at her legs and she raised her eyebrows at him. He shook his head and started to walk back to the kitchen, but she grabbed his arm and stopped him. 

“The toast…” he said and she shook her head and tilted it back for a kiss, not caring about the toast. He bent his head and met her lips, kissing her quickly. “It’s just that it’s the last of the bread if this burns too.” Kissing her once more, he hurried out of the room as she watched him with a smile. 

God, she loved him so much. 

“Well,” he called it out, as she heard the toaster popping. “It’s not burnt per se, but also not exactly as I would have wanted it.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine however it is,” she said and he scoffed as he walked back into the room carrying a cooking sheet that held their plates of food, butter, jelly, and utensils. 

“I know you, Scully. I know how you like your toast.” 

“And how’s that?” she asked with a smile, leaning back as he set her plate in front of her. 

“Lightly toasted for most breads, but slightly more for sourdough as you like the crunch of it,” he replied, sitting down and grinning at her as she raised an eyebrow. “My toaster seems to think heavily toasted to burnt is the only preference today. But… I managed to catch it before it reached its goal.” 

“It’s appreciated,” she said, her smile growing as she looked down at the toasted bread, which was only slightly too dark. Realizing he was very quiet, she looked up and saw he was staring at her. She tilted her head, silently asking if everything was alright. 

“I just…” he said softly. “I wanted it to be better. I had an image in my head of how it should be and…” 

She rose out of her seat and placed a hand on his cheek as she kissed him, hoping to convey how much she loved both the meal and him for trying so hard. He wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her close as she kissed him again. 

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, kissing him gently one more time before stepping back with a smile and sitting down. 

“Hmm,” he hummed, nodding and letting out a deep breath. 

“Could you pass me the utensils?” she asked and he nodded again as he gave her a fork and knife. 

They ate their meal and she made sure to eat every bit of the toast, meeting his eyes as she sucked jelly from the tip of her finger. He smiled and nodded as he picked up his coffee cup and took a drink. 

She placed her empty dishes onto the tray and picked up her own coffee cup as he set his own down and scooted his chair a little closer to her. She smiled as his hand covered her knee, his fingers circling around lightly. 

“What’s this from?” he asked and she glanced down, watching his thumb run across a scar on her knee. 

“The playground. Third grade. Tommy Sinclair,” she said, setting her cup down. “He was in my grade, but a year older as he’d been held back in first grade. He was a lot bigger than most of us, me included. And he had a bad temper.” 

“He hit you with something?” Mulder asked, his forehead creasing in concern as he looked at the scar, his thumb halting in its movement. 

“No,” she said, turning slightly in her chair and touching the scar, her fingers grazing his hand. “He was a bully and everyone was afraid of him.” 

“But not you?” he asked, looking up at her with a smile. 

“Not exactly,” she chuckled. “I mean I was, but I also wasn’t. You grow up with an older brother… it toughens you up a bit.” 

“Especially one like Bill,” he murmured and she laughed, squeezing his hand. 

“True,” she agreed. “Tommy had been “claiming” a swing every recess for about three days. He would run out and say it was his and wouldn’t let anyone use it. Sometimes even he wouldn’t use it to swing, but just to sit on and glare at us. He yelled at anyone who came close to him or tried to get him to move. And sometimes he got physical as well.” 

“So what happened?” he asked, his thumb running gently over the scar again. 

“Well,” she said, remembering the day in question. “He was bigger, like I said, but I was faster. When we were sent out for lunch and recess, I didn’t eat, but ran straight to the swing and refused to get off of it when he came out to take it.” 

“Why does that not surprise me?” Mulder asked, shaking his head and smiling. 

“He was so angry. Got in my face and yelled. Called me mean names. Made fun of my hair-”

“Oh… man was playing with fire. Literally,” he said, nodding to her hair and she smiled. 

“I didn’t care what he said,” she continued. “Until one of my friends yelled at him and he started to stalk toward her. I knew he would push her or something worse and so I left the swing and ran up to stand between them. He was surprised to see me there so suddenly and he quickly went to run back to the swing, but someone else was already on it. He shouted and then turned to me again and said he hated me and it was all my fault. He shoved me hard and I stumbled back. I stayed upright for a second or two, but then I twisted and I tripped over my own feet. As I fell, I hit a small rock and since I was wearing a skirt and had nothing to buffer it, it ripped my knee open. Blood started running down my leg and everyone stood frozen as they looked at it. My friend started to cry and scream while I couldn’t stop staring at the cut and wondering what had happened. I looked up and saw that Tommy was standing closer to me with his mouth open as he stared at the blood. A teacher came running over and yelled at Tommy to help her get me up and to be careful, all as the blood was still running down my leg and staining my white knee sock.”

“Jesus,” Mulder whispered and she nodded. 

“I had to leave school early and get two stitches in my knee, which hurt like a bitch over the next couple of weeks. It was itchy, hurt when I bent it, and didn't allow me to play and climb like I was used to doing.” 

“And Tommy?” Mulder asked, his thumb ceasing as he looked at her. She smiled and glanced down at the scar on her knee. 

“It’s funny,” she said quietly. “When we were waiting to get the stitches, I was so angry at him. I wanted him to be in trouble, hoped he would be in fact. I imagined the way he might be reprimanded in front of everyone. But then, my mom told me about a boy she went to school with who was similar to Tommy. His name was James and he was the biggest kid there, always picking on the others. He stole their lunches or took toys they may have brought from home, whatever he wanted really. She said that they all hated him, but one day when he was harassing kids for their lunches, she willingly gave him some cookies her mom had made the day before. He took it without saying anything and walked away. Later though, when she was walking home, he caught up to her and thanked her. She said when she first saw him, she was ready to either run or hit him, whichever it came down to.” 

“I would’ve liked to have seen that,” Mulder laughed and she smiled with a nod, his thumb moving over her scar once again. 

“James told her that his mom was sick and he hadn’t had cookies like that in a long time. She said he started to cry and again she wasn’t sure what to do, but she asked if he wanted to come home with her for a little while and have more of the cookies. So he did and after an afternoon spent around people who made an effort to care about his well being, he was different to people. Not completely a changed man, but different.” 

“Maggie Scully, wielding her magic. Well, not Scully yet, I suppose, but you know what I mean,” he said and she laughed softly.

“I do.” 

“So you did the same then?” he asked and she shook her head. 

“Not exactly,” she said. “I missed the next day of school, but then when I did come back, Tommy wasn’t by the swings at recess. I saw him out by the hill by himself and I hobbled over to talk to him. When he saw me, I saw him consider running and it made me think about my mother’s story. I kept walking and I stood in front of him, looking up and not backing down. He looked at the bandage on my knee and shook his head. He mumbled that he didn’t mean it and that he was sorry. I asked if he would push me on the swings and he stared at me in surprise, no doubt thinking I was teasing him. But I wasn’t and I even offered to push him if he would like it. He agreed to push me and we walked over there slowly and waited our turn. He did push me, hesitantly at first, but we didn’t say anything else about it after that. And when the principal of the school talked to me and my mom, as my dad was deployed at the time, I told him it had been an accident and not Tommy’s fault.” 

“Huh,” Mulder said quietly. 

“He moved away about a month later. His father was in the navy too and he got stationed somewhere else and they had to leave. He came over to our house to say goodbye and I never saw him again. I hope he changed and dealt with whatever demons he had been fighting.” She smiled at him and he shook his head slightly as he stared at her. “What?” 

“You know the stories or movies where a person is born with abilities?” he asked, a small smile slowly spreading across his face. “Or you read and you can tell what their future will be because of their personality and how they approach situations? As though it’s destiny being foretold and all that?”

“Yeah,” she said, tilting her head as she continued to smile. 

“If we were reading or watching the story of your life, whether the choice was placed upon you or it was simply fated to happen at some point, in every life I believe you would be some form of healer,” he said and she drew in a breath. “You would be someone who finds the broken and heals them in a big way, or something so minuscule, they may not even know it happened. But it did and their lives are irrevocably changed as a result,” he said and she let out the breath she had taken as she leaned forward to kiss him. 

His hand moved from her knee to where the bottom of his shirt hit her at mid-thigh. Their kiss deepened and his hand moved higher, slipping further under the hem of the shirt before suddenly pulling back as he broke from their kiss. 

“Did you find another scar you wanted to question me about?” she asked breathlessly, knowing full well why he had reacted the way he did. 

“You’re… you’re not wearing any underwear,” he whispered and she frowned in mock concern. 

“Am I not?” she asked and he stared at her, his fingers slowly inching up her bare hip once again. 

“You’ve been… been sitting here all this time without underwear,” he stated in a low voice and she suppressed a shiver as her breath increased. 

“I have,” she confirmed. 

“I had no idea.” 

“Your shirts are long on me. It was easy to disguise.” 

“Apparently,” he whispered, his hand opening and closing as his fingers scratched gently against her skin.

And this time she did shiver as she let out a breathy moan and her eyes closed.  

“Should I have told you?” she asked, opening her eyes and licking her lips. 

“Hell no. I never would have made it through breakfast if I had known,” he said and she laughed softly. 

“True,” she agreed, shifting slightly as she leaned closer. “But you know now, so what are you going to do about it?” He squeezed her hip and she gasped, desire immediately shooting through her. 

“Seeing as how the norm is usually breakfast shared while in bed and yet we’re out here, I’d say it’s time to move this back to bed. Do you agree?” 

“Wholeheartedly,” she said and they both quickly stood to their feet, pushing one another toward the bedroom. 

She laughed as he caught her and pressed her against the doorframe of his room, kissing her slowly and ramping up her desire for him. 

Pulling back, he took her hand and led her into the room where their clothes fell together to the floor. 

She gasped, moaned, and whimpered as he brought her to climax twice, her heart racing and body shaking each time. 

“You do have more scars I’d love to hear about,” he said later as she lay with her head on his chest, her eyes heavy with sleep. “You distracted me, in the very best way possible I might add, or I would have asked about more.” 

“Ask me later,” she said, cuddling closer to him. “After you’ve made me my next meal.” 

“Will you repeat your outfit choice?” 

“Maybe. You’ll have to wait and see.” 

“Hmm,” he hummed, his fingers running through her hair. 

“Mmm, or maybe I’ll reverse it,” she said, smiling when his fingers froze in their movements. 

“Scully,” he whispered and she let out a breathy laugh, already imagining his face if she sat down topless at the table. 

Maybe, she thought, kissing his chest as he began to massage her scalp. 

Maybe… 

#the x files #msr #xf fanfic #love #happy #developing relationship #season 7 #breakfast #cuddling & snuggling #post coital snuggling #sleepng together #naked cuddling #sharing stories #sharing clothes #kissing

[earlgreyinpajamas]

merthur fic recs: arranged marriages

1. and you held me tightly ('til the morning) by Imagined (@burglarhobbit)

Merlin ducks forward, grabbing Arthur’s hands. His are cool and soft, and Arthur is surprised by the feel of Merlin’s palm over his own rough knuckles. “Arthur,” he says pointedly. “I know my duty, and I don’t need you to remind me. Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Annoying,” Merlin says, and leans back, appraising him more thoughtfully than his tone suggests. “So concerned with your honour.”

Or: Arthur must marry Lord Emrys for a year to create an alliance between their people. Except it isn't Emrys who comes to marry him, but the young druid Merlin, who soon turns all of Camelot upside down—and Arthur with it.

~~~

ugh oblivious and pining!arthur never fails to slap

2. At Arm’s Length by sirencalls (@naydran)

“I’m sorry, there must be a mistake.” Uther furrows his brows. “That is my son’s manservant.”

“This is Emrys, the most powerful sorcerer who will ever walk the earth. It is our deepest honor to be able to offer his hand to your son.”

“Merlin?” Arthur asks, looking across the hall. Merlin looks the palest and the smallest Arthur has ever seen him. He looks like a scared animal that knows it’s about to be trapped, and that’s when it clicks for Arthur that no part of this is a joke. None of it. “Merlin, what are they talking about?”

~~~

my heart ached so hard reading this fic

3. So The Story Goes by TheCourtSorcerer (@thecourtsorcerer​)

“Who am I to wed?”  

Balinor and Hunith shared a nervous glance. Balinor knew this would be the hardest part—he wasn’t the most pleased about it either, but it was the best idea he had and, well, at least he knew his son would be marrying into a good family.

Even if he held his own biases against the patriarch.

Merlin stared on, expectant—arms now crossed over his chest in perhaps the least princely manner Balinor could picture. Hunith pulled her hand from his knee, and he braced himself, head high and shoulders back.

“Arthur Pendragon,”

 or

Balinor & Uther have a deep mistrust of each other due to a petty feud in their past friendship, and therefore the only way to bring their kingdoms together is through marriage--the only way they'll trust one another to not destroy their kingdom is if they are united.

~~~

fadhfkdsj probably the fluffiest fic in this rec list and we love them for it

#merlin #merthur #merlin x arthur #bbc merlin #merlin fic #merthur fic #merthur fluff #merthur fanfiction #merthur fanfic #merthur fic recs #merthur fic rec #arranged marriage #pining!Merlin #pining arthur #pining!Arthur #developing relationship #pining

[inklessletter]

Maybe then, Maybe there

Pairing: steddie

CW: 3.2k

TW: angst and hurt, not talking about feelings, pining, kissing, period typical and internalized homophobia, trauma, possibly multichapter

---

“Alright, then. Let’s swim.”

Eddie Munson had always been careful. He had to learn to anticipate every possible scenario so he could react, so he could protect himself. Sometimes that habit made his mind a wasteland, a dangerous place to stay for a long time. But it was necessary, if he didn't want to end up beaten, crushed and shattered, like the time he forced himself not to think of every now and then.

Eddie Munson had to learn to control his life in a way that no other boy his age had to. He was loud and obnoxious, a carefully designed persona to keep everybody away, and it has worked so far. Even if he had failed twice to graduate, he had friends with a purpose. He always had, and he always acknowledged what every single person around him wanted to get from him.

The band members needed a solo guitar and someone to scream his lungs out at the microphone every week. The kids from Hellfire expected him to entertain them with D&D campaigns. Rick needed him to sell to a specific group of people he couldn’t really reach regularly.

It was lonely sometimes, being a mastermind. But it was safe. And he would take safe over lonely every single fucking day of the year. 

Yeah, he would. He craved a surprise free life, and after spring break, a portal to hell and a witch hunt from his whole home town, it was a mandatory requirement. A ground rule. No surprises.

And he tried, he tried so goddamn hard to keep working on anticipating everyone’s movements. He absolutely wanted to know, to decipher their means, because after all the shit they’ve been through, why on earth would that bunch of people want to keep being in touch with him? His circumstances made them go through hell; he still couldn’t bear to look at Henderson straight in the eye for more than three seconds, just because he knows what he made that kid go through. He clinically died on his arms, he scarred him for life. The fact that the kid kept showing up every day at the government hospital blew his mind. 

He couldn’t anticipate that. Eddie didn’t know what to do with that. He also didn’t know what to do with the fact that along with Dustin Henderson, the rest of the gang were there, visiting him, treating him like he wasn’t the cause of the worst distress of their lives. They worried about him, asked him about his recovery and the scars of the wounds, they brought him gifts and treats, and he even got to know new kids, like Will Byers that Mike couldn’t stop talking about, or his girlfriend El, the superpowered girl. And they were all friendly with him.

What was Eddie supposed to do with that, huh?

What did those people want from him? He had absolutely nothing to give them. 

He even tried to apologize to them, maybe that was what they wanted, an apology. But they all looked at him like it was insane (Henderson told that he was actually nuts) and kept coming back.

It took Eddie a few weeks to know that his life now was entirely different and he had to adjust to not being able to anticipate what those people wanted from him. It wasn’t until he heard Buckley talking to Nancy about him and addressing Eddie as “their friend” that he understood that maybe this whole situation had completely destroyed his carefully constructed wall between him and the world, because he had now friends, apparently.

Trying to get a hold of the kids was easy, he just had to organize D&D campaigns again and they would be all his minions again. He could give them something worthy of their times, and that could grant him a glimpse of the control he had lost with all this fuckery. That made him feel less… lost. Safer, in a way.

But then they started inviting him to movie nights, and birthday parties, and they even brought him presents and made him a small surprise party on his birthday (they learned about his birthday being on June 23rd because Erica just looked at his file when he was at the hospital). 

It was—it was madness. He took a deep breath, and came to terms with him not having a fucking clue about how to anticipate to that group (exactly when he was blowing the candles of the birthday that Erica and Dustin had baked for him) and just went with it.

And here he was, a random night of August 1986 sitting on Steve Harrington’s car hood at the quarry, talking with him and actually realizing that he had been stupid enough to actually “go with it” a little bit too much.

Being friends with Steve was the most surprising thing of all. See, he didn’t play D&D, he hasn’t smoked weed in four years, he did no drugs (not that he had any on him, now that he wasn’t dealing anymore) they had nothing in common. Steve was fire and Eddie was water. They were—they were supposed to be incompatible. Steve liked sports and Eddie could only run twice in his life when his actual life was in danger. Eddie read fantasy books and Steve hasn’t picked one up since high school. Steve was a morning person, for fuck’s sake.

Steve was the sun and Eddie was the moon. They were not supposed to meet. Ever.

But he was easy to talk to, and he was responsible and loving with the kids, and he had the funniest look on his face when he rolled his eyes at Dustin’s remarks until the back of his skull. When he was with Buckley those two were an unstoppable team, Eddie could swear that they melted and fused into one single hive mind because the way they acted, god, that could be just one person. Their friendship was something to behold with utmost joy. Steve was also a bit bitchy, and Eddie found himself loving that. He learned to read Steve’s judgy face, and what came after was always worthy of his time. The man was witty. 

But he was also kind and giving. Maybe his gossiping skills kept him on the loop of every detail of Eddie’s life, or maybe he was just a good listener, but Steve kept asking Eddie about things he mentioned like, two weeks ago, and Eddie was impressed that he remembered.  No one, besides Wayne, has ever paid that much attention to what he had to say.

Eddie was stupid enough to actually want more from that. They started hanging out, and sharing things. Steve gave Eddie the opportunity to laugh at him when he shared stuff about his childhood, but Eddie didn’t laugh. He just shared things in return.

Later he would analyze the fact that he really didn’t want to laugh at Steve, because he wanted him to keep looking at Eddie in the eye, and he did that more and more when he found that Eddie didn’t really mock him for what happened to him, or what he wanted to do with his life. The result of that analysis had Eddie’s head spinning for days.

He was falling in love with Steve, and at this point he didn’t know how to stop it.

Whatever was left of his stupid persona was gone now, and he was utterly fucked, because he realized that he didn’t want to stop hanging out with him, even if it led to his heart to be destroyed. He wanted him.

Eddie wanted the heartbreak, but also wanted Steve’s smiles, and stories, and bitchiness.

Night car rides were a thing now, and there they were, under a full moon, after Eddie just shared with him yet another silly piece of information of his childhood (that he didn’t know how to swim and the fact that he dove through Lover’s Lake was pure intuition and he would not know how to do that again). Steve had hopped off the hood and was lending Eddie a hand.

“Alright then, let’s swim.”

“Didn’t you hear the part in which I told you that I don’t know how to?” Eddie said, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll teach you,” Steve insisted, with a wicked smile on his face while he danced his fingers, urging Eddie to take his hand.

“I’m not a good student,” Eddie said, smile forming on his lips. Oh, he was so going to end up in that stupid lake, wasn’t he?

“Then I’ll get you, you won’t drown, I swear.”

Eddie looked at him in silence, and then at his hand, he took it, but didn’t leave the car. He spoke softly.

“I don’t have any swimming trunks,” Eddie said, as his last retort.

“Neither do I,” Steve said through his smirk.

“Are you suggesting skinny dipping?”

Steve burst in laughter, but Eddie actually stood next to him, hand in hand.

“No, you are,” Steve said. “I was going to keep my underwear on, but if you’re so eager to spice this up, then, yeah. Totally naked.”

Steve was fucking unreadable. Why did a straight jock, boring young man that wanted everything missionary, and a house with a wife and half a soccer team of kids happen to be so hard to foresee?

What did Eddie miss about him? And why the fuck was he already taking his shirt off?

Before they both could know it (and Eddie was blaming the blank canvas that his mind was now that he apparently decided to let himself go, carefree and dangerous) they were at the shore of the quarry in nothing else but their boxers. Steve didn’t hesitate, and he walked into the water.

“Come on man, it’s warm.”

“What if there are—uh—things? Actually, Harrington, how the fuck are you not shitting your pants at the idea of swimming in another lake at night after what happened to you?” Eddie asked, ranted, really, but he was already getting into the water.

He observed Steve, that he was already chest deep. He really observed him.

Steve was—god, he was beautiful. Scarred in his stomach and his back, his pinkish, healing wounds were visible under the full moon. He looked like he was made of silver and it felt wrong in Eddie’s mind because Steve’s color was gold, not silver. Eddie saw him run his wet hands through his hair, combing it back, and, yeah, yes, he was something else.

He was the kind of something else that he wouldn’t have dared to dream of, the kind of something else that made him force himself to look away every single time they were showering after PE, or dressing in the locker room. Steve was the kind of something else that Eddie could not have, and looking at him with want was nothing but hurtful.

Steve turned around and looked Eddie in the eye. He smiled briefly and then he sank under the surface, and Eddie panicked. When he came back a couple of seconds later, Eddie felt himself like he could breathe again.

“Dude! Not. Cool!” Eddie said with a hand on his chest, worrying expression on his face.

Steve laughed, honest, bright. 

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, man. My bad,” Steve said, bubbly, light hearted. 

Eddie rolled his eyes at him and looked away for a second, trying to recompose. When he looked back at Steve, he—he was staring at Eddie.

Eddie saw Steve’s eyes roaming through his chest and he suddenly felt hyper aware of his own looks, scarred and broken, tattoos destroyed, meaningless ink of what once was a cool design. Designs that were made to reinforce the persona that was no longer with him, also broken and scarred. Eddie swallowed around nothing when he realized that it was such a poetic parallel.

In an impulse to stop the staring, Eddie came closer, sinking until his chin, in front of Steve. The younger man didn’t even bother to pretend that he wasn’t staring, and looked at Eddie’s face when they were next to each other. 

“Do they give you hell? The—uh, the scars. Do they still hurt?”

Eddie didn’t know why Steve was suddenly whispering. The slick, wet skin on his face, on the tip of his nose, on his cupid arch, were gleaming under the moonlight. Eddie followed the light, and it was a mistake. He looked back at Steve’s eyes when he answered.

“Sometimes. Yeah, sometimes they hurt.”

“Mine too.”

Eddie studied his face.

“Do you—do you think that he—”

“No,” Steve said quickly. “No, it’s over. He’s dead. I think they hurt because they’re still healing and nothing more.”

Eddie looked away.

“You’re safe.”

And there it was. The hurt.

He didn’t need to be told that before. Steve telling him that he was safe was a reminder that he had no control over anything.

“How do you know?” Eddie asked, also whispering. He saw Steve struggling to reply to that, and before Steve could read that question differently, Eddie specified:  “How do you know that he’s not coming back?”

Steve shrugged and smiled at him, crouching enough to be chin deep, too, mirroring Eddie.

“I need to believe that this time is for good. There’s no point in going on with our lives if we are stuck in that headspace, you know?” Steve licked his lips and he was suddenly, somehow, closer to Eddie. He didn’t see when he moved. “Like, what’s the point of trying to get a good job if I’m always fighting monsters in my head? Why would I try to find a person to fall in love with, to marry, to build a family with?” Steve studied Eddie’s face before he continued, again, closer. 

“Steve—”

“Why would I even bother?” Steve asked, and Eddie felt Steve’s warm hands grasping his under the water. 

Eddie didn’t quite know what was happening, but he felt Steve’s forehead against his, and he was starting to feel dizzy with want. This was—god, this was insane.

Why was he so close? Why—why was he telling him this?

There was something that didn’t feel quite right. And Eddie hated that he knew exactly what.

“Is that what you want in life, Steve? A wife and a family?” Eddie’s voice was a little trembling and he felt like shuddering all of the sudden, like the water went extremely cold, and the skin against skin was burning him alive. He could even taste Steve’s breath in his mouth, and his mind, god. His mind was clouded, overcast, no sun to be seen even if it was right in front of him. 

It took Eddie a couple seconds to understand that Steve didn’t respond. 

Steve was still unreadable to Eddie, and Eddie had never been more lost in the past few months that he was at that moment.

“What I want,” Steve said, low, raspy, shaking. “What I want is to live, Eddie.”

Steve didn’t ask Eddie with words. Steve asked for Eddie’s permission to kiss him looking at him in the eye, and then to the lips, and back to the eyes. He gave Eddie time to back down, and when he didn’t, he came slightly closer, grazing his lips against his. Eddie forgot how to breathe, especially when Steve stood there, not kissing him, not moving. Waiting for Eddie to move away.

Eddie laced his fingers with Steve under the water and that was permission enough for Steve to finally mold his mouth against Eddie’s.

Eddie’s mind crashed. He didn’t understand anything that was going on. It still didn’t click. Maybe he was sleeping,maybe this was nothing but a feverish dream but it felt quite too real.

Steve was kissing him, gently, softly. Tentatively. Steve kissed his bottom lip, once, twice, three times. It was only when he tilted his head to deepen the kiss that Eddie actually kissed back.

It still felt off, but they kissed, oh, they kissed. Steve cupped his jaw with a hand, drawing him closer, chest to chest, wet skin slick and soft against one another. Burning bright and all consuming. 

Swimming lessons forgotten, they kissed and touched until the water was actually too cold for their bodies and they had to get out of the lake. Eddie tried not to think too much of what he thought he knew about Steve, he tried not to think about if Steve was finally showing his cards about what he wanted to get from Eddie. Eddie decided not to listen to that voice, not that night, not when water and fire actually made magic together, like an impossible. Like a paradox, the universe destroying itself and building itself back.

Steve Harrington, the unreadable man, surprising Eddie once again, against his will, by kissing him. 

Eddie didn’t pry about Steve’s sexuality, that was a conversation for the future. Their bodies were around a towel that Steve retrieved from his car, pressed together, still kissing fiercely, pulling up sighs and moans from each other.

“You didn’t—uh—you didn’t teach me how to swim,” Eddie said suddenly, stupidly, and he scolded himself. Steve laughed in his lips.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m sorry. I can teach you another time, though,” Steve suggested. Eddie smiled in his lips, ignoring that terrible feeling.

“A-ha. Yeah, sure. We can—we can do that, yeah,” they both laughed softly, still pressed together. “Was this your plan all along? Getting me naked and kissing me stupid?”

Steve laughed again and Eddie wanted to die in his laughter. “No, not really. I really wanted to teach you to swim, but,” Steve gave Eddie a peck, “you kept asking about what I wanted and, um—nobody has asked me that in a long time. And I—well, I just realized there what I wanted.”

“To live?” Eddie asked, not really teasing.

“Yeah. I want to live, to love, to have a family and a nice house,” Steve said, smiling. He looked into Eddie's eyes. “I want all that, Eddie.”

And that was what it wasn’t clicking.

Because Eddie couldn’t give him what he wanted. Eddie couldn’t give him a fancy wedding, a nice life, in a respected neighborhood. He couldn’t bear children of their own. They probably wouldn't be able to buy a house because he knew, he saw how clandestine and secretive lives like that were. How dangerous, how mortifying not being able to hold hands in public. 

A life with Eddie would bring Steve nothing but misery and his dreams crushed, shattered, scattered all over.

Eddie was not part of that equation, and he wouldn’t let himself be, because Steve deserved to have all that, everything that he wanted.

What was happening between them, the kisses under the silver moon, bare and wet and full of dying love, was turning that quarry into a graveyard of the unborn life that they were not meant to have together.

Eddie hugged him tighter, kissing him deeply and hungry and leaking what was left of his love for that fantasy into Steve’s mouth, hoping that it would be imprinted in his blood and in his lips for the rest of his life that he so wanted to fully live.

That he could foresee.

For that he could prepare.

But not that night. Not that night. Not when it was new and raw and experimental. 

Maybe it could work in another world, Eddie thought, where fire and water can kiss, and the sun and the moon can share the same sky at the same time.

Maybe then.

Maybe there.

#inklessletter #inky writes #fanfic #fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #st fic #ficlet #angst and hurt #pining #kissing #developing relationship #internalized homophobia #period typical homophobia #eddie is sad :( #it's been a long while since I don't write anything

[frankthesnek]

✨️ New Story ✨️

Hot Rod Red (rated E)

Stony (Steve Rogers/Tony Stark)

No powers AU, Cam model Tony, Steve Rogers feels, falling in love, multiple sex scenes (full tags on AO3!)

37k words

Steve has been single since the abrupt end of his engagement 5 years ago (despite the efforts of his friends). When he accidentally stumbles across an attractive cam model online, the idea of having a virtual booty call on hand seems appealing. The only problem, Tony is far more charming than Steve would have imagined and there is more to him than a pretty smile and a nice body. Too bad all their interactions are just part of Tony's job… or are they?

#new story #stony #stevetony #tony stark #steve rogers #au #steve rogers feels #cam model tony #grief and mourning #texting #developing relationship #long fic #event fic #new fic #adult fiction #falling in love #pining #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #the avengers #signal boost #self promo

[kjack89]

The Wikipedia Page

For the Hoeshold <3

E/R, modern AU, developing relationship, all shenanigans.

“Can you fucking believe this?” Enjolras said, incredulous, staring down at his phone.

Combeferre sighed the long-suffering sigh of a man who was about to enter into a conversation he knew he would deeply regret. “For the billionth time,” he said, with the patience of a saint, “when you’re looking at your phone, I can’t see what you’re looking at.”

Enjolras scowled and thrust his phone at Combeferre. “Here,” he said shortly. “Look at this shit.”

Combeferre glanced down at the phone, his brow furrowing. “It’s a Wikipedia page for – oh.”

Enjolras nodded grimly. “Yeah,” he said. “Exactly. Someone made a fucking Wikipedia page for me.”

“Of you, more like,” Combeferre murmured, scanning the page with an almost academic interest. “And not a very good one. Some facts are wrong.”

Enjolras’s scowl deepened and he yanked his phone back. “So now they’re just making up lies about me?” he seethed as he scanned the article. His own brow furrowed and he glanced up at Combeferre. “I don’t see anything inaccurate here.”

Combeferre frowned and took Enjolras’s phone back. “Well, for starters, it says you’ve been brought up on charges of domestic terrorism—“

“Which is true,” Enjolras interjected.

“You’ve been accused of domestic terrorism, but never indicted,” Combeferre corrected. “Thankfully for everyone involved, there’s a bit of a difference.”

Enjolras smirked. “You and the US Attorney’s office would probably disagree on that.”

“Secondly,” Combeferre continued, the long-suffering tone of regret back in his voice, “it says that you graduated from Harvard in 2016.”

Enjolras suddenly seemed unable to meet Combeferre’s eyes. “Oh,” he said. “Right.”

Combeferre’s eyes narrowed. “And of course,” he said, “you were kicked out of Harvard your senior year.” He paused before adding pointedly, “Right?”

“About that,” Enjolras started, and Combeferre gave him a look.

“You really lied about getting kicked out of Harvard?”

Enjolras’s face was roughly the same color as his usual hoodie. “I mean, I did get in trouble,” he mumbled, “and I wasn’t allowed to attend graduation.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Because that’s even remotely the same thing.”

Enjolras’s flush deepened, and he quickly attempted to change the subject. “At least that narrows it down somewhat as to who created this asinine Wikipedia page,” he said, “since very few people know about Harvard.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t take a genius to contact the alumni office and put two and two together,” Combeferre said dryly.

“But that would require someone to know my full legal name,” Enjolras countered. “And that list is even smaller.”

“Well, while you obsess over who put this page together, I’m going to be over here reconciling the fact that you’ve been lying to me for the past nine years,” Combeferre muttered.

Enjolras looked shame-faced before he paused, his own eyes narrowing. “Hang on,” he said. “You’ve done background checks on every single one of us, myself included, and this absolutely would’ve shown up.”

“So?”

“So what are you actually mad about, since you’ve known all along?” Enjolras didn’t even wait for Combeferre to answer. “You had a bet going for how long it would be before I came clean.”

He didn’t pitch it as a question, and Combeferre didn’t bother with a denial. “Yeah, and if you’d have held it together for another year, I’d’ve won,” he said sourly. “I took the over on a decade.”

“Do I even want to know how many of you were in on this bet?” Wisely, Combeferre stayed silent and Enjolras groaned and put his head in his hands. “Maybe no one will see it?” he said, a little desperately. “After all, our friends have lives, or at least better things to do than stalk Wikipedia.”

Combeferre made a small noise of dissent. “Has our conversation taught you nothing about underestimating our friends?”

Enjolras just sighed heavily. “Then maybe they’ll go gentle on me.”

“And now I think you’re overestimating our friends.”

— — — — —

By the time of the meeting that night, everyone had seen the Wikipedia page. And seemingly, it was all any of them could talk about.

“Can we all just agree,” Courfeyrac said, with actual tears of mirth running down his face, “that it was a stroke of absolute genius to title a section, ‘Personal Life’ and then leave it as ‘This section is being created, or is in the process of extensive expansion or major restructuring’?”

“Personally, I’m a huge fan of the blind quote they used in the section on his politics,” Bossuet said, grinning.

“Where Enjolras is described as, and I quote, ‘so far left that he’s basically circled back around to authoritarianism’?”

Joly sounded positively gleeful, and Bahorel guffawed loudly. “Isn’t that what that idiot wrote about Enjolras in The Epoch Times?”

“That’s how it made it on the page,” Jehan said helpfully. “There was a news story a few years back about an author who couldn’t get her Wikipedia page updated to reflect her divorce until she stated it in an interview.” Bahorel gave him a look of surprise and Jehan shrugged. “I did some amateur Wikipedia editing back in college.”

Enjolras sighed heavily, staring determinedly at the ceiling. “Can we please,” he said through clenched teeth, “talk about literally anything else?”

Naturally, everyone ignored him. 

“I really feel like we’re overlooking the best part,” Feuilly said. “Which, of course, is the bit where his personality is described as, quote, ‘has many red flags’.”

“The question, of course,” Combeferre interjected for the first time, “is if the page is referring to Enjolras’s collection of physical flags that are red, or his many charming personality traits that many could consider red flags.”

“Traitor,” Enjolras said through clenched teeth.

“I think the real question is whether someone—” Joly didn’t bother with subtlety as he nudged Grantaire while emphasizing the word ‘someone’. “—would consider the amount of red flags to be a red flag.”

Grantaire pretended to consider it. “I can only speak for myself, but I’d call it a beige flag.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together hard enough to make his dentist weep, glaring at Grantaire. “You’ve been awfully quiet until that little quip.” 

Grantaired leaned back in his seat in a somewhat self-satisfied way, raising his beer bottle in a mock toast. “There is such a thing as gilding the lily, and frankly, I’m not sure I could top this.”

“That has literally never stopped you before.”

Grantaire just winked at him, and Enjolras sighed. “Very well,” he said, resignedly, aiming for dignified and falling drastically short. “You all keep having fun at my expense, but if we’re not going to get any work done, I’m going home.”

He gathered his stuff in a huff and marched out with his head held high. At least, that’s what he told himself, though in reality, he probably looked more like a petulant child stomping away from the playground to take his ball and go home.

He had sulked his way about half a block away from the Musain when Grantaire called, “Hey, wait up.”

Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, scowling. “Come to mock me some more?”

“Arguably speaking, we’re all making fun of the Wikipedia page,” Grantaire reasoned as he fell into step next to Enjolras.

Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “Which is clearly making fun of me.”

Grantaire cleared his throat delicately. “If you’d like to count yourself amongst those who take offense to the truth…”

“Asshole,” Enjolras said, but for some reason, his foul mood was lifted, at least slightly.

Grantaire glanced sideways at him. “So, uh, dare I ask why, exactly, a Wikipedia page posting mostly accurate information about you has got a stick so far up your ass you can taste wood?”

Enjolras snorted. “Poetic.”

“I try,” Grantaire said. “But seriously, the reaction does seem a bit over the top. If it was Courf, sure, I’d expect this level of histrionics, but you’re normally a better sport about this sort of thing.”

“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me,” Enjolras said mildly.

“Probably because I’m lying, you’re a notorious drama queen and frankly, I’m surprised that little detail didn’t make your Wikipedia page,” Grantaire said cheerfully, and Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his bark of surprised laughter. “That being said, clearly something about it is bothering you, and I figured buttering you up might help.”

Enjolras’s smile faded. “Honestly?” he said. “What I’m most upset about is that it’s about me, with barely a footnote about our work.”

“Right,” Grantaire said. He glanced at Enjolras again. “And naturally, that upsets you because…?”

“Because it’s not about me!” Enjolras burst, his frustration spilling over. “Because it’s never been about me. The whole point of quasi-anonymity is that anyone could be me. Anyone could step into this role and try to change the world.”

Grantaire let out a low whistle. “And you called me poetic,” he said. Enjolras didn’t smile and Grantaire nudged him gently with his elbow. “I think you’re forgetting that while you may have been aiming for anonymity, you’re still an incredibly recognizable figure who hasn’t exactly been camera-shy.”

“Sure, my face may be well known, but not my name, and certainly not my face and my name together,” Enjolras said hotly.

Grantaire was quiet for so long that Enjolras had to look over at him to make sure he was still there. Then, Grantaire shook his head. “The rare valid point,” he said, more to himself than Enjolras.

Enjolras just sighed. As much as he had planned on sulking for the rest of the night, he was finding it more and more difficult with each passing step, as if just venting about it had made it slightly better.

Or maybe that was more about who he’d been venting to.

“Anyway,” he said bracingly, “I’ll get over it, I just need to, you know, feel my feelings.”

“And you’re being very brave about it,” Grantaire assured him. 

Enjolras laughed again. “Well, you can head back to the Musain.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” Grantaire said solemnly. “You’re in a fragile state of mind. I better make sure you get home safely.”

Even though Enjolras rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help but smile, just slightly. “You’re missing out on some prime comedy.”

Grantaire winked at him. “You forget,” he said smugly, “I’ve got a phone with 5G and an entire walk to do a dramatic reading.”

Enjolras groaned. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to spend the rest of your walk worrying about.”

“Asshole,” Enjolras repeated, but he was laughing.

And besides, he suspected Grantaire wasn’t serious.

— — — — —

Over the next few weeks, things with Enjolras’s Wikipedia page took a turn – for the weird.

Despite Enjolras’s multiple attempts to get the page shut down, it continued on its merry way. And worse, it kept being added to by the same anonymous Wikipedia editor who had created it. But bizarrely, while it had originally been mostly accurate, it was quickly becoming flooded with complete bullshit.

Each new edit brought with it a different fabricated detail about Enjolras, some of which were close to the truth (“Enjolras came out publicly via instagram post in the lead-up to the Obergefell ruling” – Enjolras had come out publicly in the tenth grade via Facebook, or, if he was being truly specific, in 2nd Grade when Kaitlyn H. had tried to kiss him and Enjolras had screamed and hidden in the classroom closet), and some of which were just completely wrong (“He wrestled in high school as a heavyweight, weighing in at 250 pounds” and “Described as shorter than average (5’6”) with shoulder-length brown hair, police have been actively searching for Enjolras and his associates for almost a decade”).

Well, that last bit was true, but not so much the description.

Which, based on Enjolras’s now extensive knowledge of Wikipedia’s editing rules, was how whoever was editing his page was getting away with it: by linking to news sources that were also incorrect. For instance, his instagram post had been falsely called his coming out by The Advocate’s round up of notable activists. The story about wrestling was a hilarious mix-up of a picture of Enjolras from a riot with a caption about a high school wrestler in the local paper. 

And so on and so forth – each edit was painstaking in being both false and, somehow, verifiable. Which would have been brilliant if it hadn’t given away the entire game.

Because a few days later, one final falsehood was posted. 

And there was only one other person in the entire world who knew this one.

“Enjolras’s first brush with the law came in high school, when he was charged as a minor in possession of alcohol, but his father allegedly asked the local authorities to drop the charges,” Enjolras said without preamble, brushing past Grantaire into his apartment.

“Normally I’m really good at keeping up with your trains of thought,” Grantaire said mildly, closing the front door. “But I will need some additional context.”

“My MIP,” Enjolras said, glowering at Grantaire. “The one that I told you about in confidence because you had confided in me about your struggles with drugs and alcohol—”

“That’s a very polite way of putting it,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras ignored him. “The one that only you knew about. Somehow it ended up on my Wikipedia page.”

Grantaire looked a little bit like he wanted to bolt out the door he’d just closed. “Combeferre might have found it in your background check,” he said weakly.

“No, because the charges were dismissed, but not because of my father,” Enjolras said impatiently. “Which means the only person it could’ve been was you.”

Grantaire paled but didn’t try to deny it, and Enjolras took a deep breath before saying, “And which means the only question that I have is why.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go live,” Grantaire blurted.

“What?”

Grantaire worried his lower lip between his teeth. “The Wikipedia page. It wasn’t supposed to be published.”

Enjolras blinked. “So it was you.”

Even though he had known it, he hadn’t really reconciled himself with it until hearing it more or less confirmed. Grantaire nodded. “It started as a joke,” he said. “We’d had a fight, I don’t even remember what about, and you said my sources were one rung below Wikipedia. So I figured, y’know, I’d show you what Wikipedia’s sources are like.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Which was for the best, since Grantaire barreled onward. “I never actually intended on publishing it, but I clicked the wrong button and didn’t even notice until, well, you did. And at that point, putting the genie back in the bottle was pretty much out of the question.”

“But then—” Enjolras broke off, still struggling to put his thoughts into anything resembling coherence. Of the million questions he had, the only one he could manage was, “Why all the edits?”

Grantaire shrugged. “It occurred to me that I could at least use this accidental platform for some good.”

“And there’s some good in telling the whole world that I’m 5 foot 6, 250 pounds and have shoulder-length brown hair?” Enjolras said dryly.

“I mean…” Grantaire shrugged again. “I figured it may help the FBI in their search for you.”

He said it innocently, and Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “And why the hell would they believe that description?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Grantaire said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “After all, it’s on Wikipedia.”

Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his own smile as realization hit. “You laid quite the convincing trail of inaccuracies for them.”

Grantaire ducked his head. “Well,” he said, “never let it be said I did nothing for the Cause.”

“For the Cause?”

Grantaire met his eyes, his smile crooked. “For the only cause I believe in, anyway.”

There were a great number of things that Enjolras could say to that, but there was only one thing he wanted to do.

And so he did, closing the space between him and Grantaire, reaching out to tip Grantaire’s chin just slightly upward to kiss him. Grantaire’s hand closed in his shirt, pulling him even closer as his mouth opened against Enjolras’s with a sigh.

Suddenly, Grantaire laughed, his lips curving into a grin against Enjolras’s. “Who knew a fucking Wikipedia page was all it would take,” he said, with something like wonder.

“Please,” Enjolras murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. “If you’d’ve tried this even six months ago, I would’ve just kicked your ass.”

“So what’s changed?”

So much more than Enjolras could ever articulate, the least of which was that he finally had tangible evidence of just how dedicated Grantaire could be – when it was something he cared about, at least.

But he settled for saying, after kissing Grantaire’s once more, “My height and weight, apparently.”

Grantaire laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “I suppose there is that.”

“By the way?”

“Yeah?” Grantaire said, his voice barely a whisper.

“If I see anything about this on Wikipedia, I really will kick your ass.”

Grantaire just laughed again. “Deal.”

— — — — —

The next day, there was a single addition to the Wikipedia page:

Spouse: Patria (m. 2023)

#exr #grantaire #enjolras #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #fanfiction #modern au #les miserables #developing relationship #wikipedia #hijinks and shenanigans #misinformation

[fromxxthexxashes]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Athena Grant/Bobby Nash, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Bobby Nash Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Bobby Nash, Howie "Chimney" Han, Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Athena Grant, Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Miscommunication, Firehouse 118 Crew as Family (9-1-1 TV), Protective Bobby Nash, Bobby Nash is Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parent, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Athena Grant and Bobby Nash are Evan "Buck" Buckley's Parents, Christopher Diaz Has Two Dads, Evan "Buck" Buckley is Christopher Diaz's Parent, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort Series: Part 1 of The ordeal of dating your captain's (adopted) son Summary:

The thing was, the 118 was full of gossips. Eddie had been at the station less than a week before Hen and Chim wrangled details about his “hot young thing” from him (“Buck is only 4 years younger than me, he is not a ‘hot young thing’!” Eddie complained.) And Bobby was open about his worries for his son’s lack of direction and the secrets he appears to be keeping (“I just wish I could help Evan find the thing that gives him purpose,” Bobby lamented.) It just made it all the more ridiculous (and horrifying) when Eddie realizes he’s been dating his Captain’s son this whole time (“Defiling his baby,” Chimney cackled, because he clearly wanted Eddie murdered.) -- Or, the AU where miscommunication abounds as Eddie seeks advice about his new relationship, Bobby despairs over his adopted son's career prospects and his refusal to talk about it, and Evan Buckley-Nash juggles training at the fire academy, building a family with his new boyfriend, and trying to work out how to tell his overprotective dad that he's already chosen the life he wants, actually. It takes a goddamn tsunami, of all things, to get the story straight.

Notes: This is such a heart healing series of fics. Don’t get me wrong there is angst, but having Buck I grow up with Bobby as his father made me so happy. Not to mention the family dynamic between Buck, Eddie, and Christopher is so sweet. 

#buddie #buddie fic rec #fanfic recommendation #911 #911 on abc #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #bobby nash #athena grant #christopher diaz #miscommunication #firehouse 118 crew as a family #protective bobby nash #Bobby Nash is Evan Buckley’s parent #developing relationship #athena grant and bobby Nash are Evan Buckley’s parents #christopher diaz has two dads #alternate universe - canon divergence #light angst #hurt/comfort #bathena #general audiences #60k

[dnffics-archive]

make a home on the cracks

by lodestones

Rated T, 2.6k words

Tags: Developing Relationship, Plans for the Future, Baby Fever

Summary:

He’d be a good dad, Dream thinks—people are always telling him he’ll be good at it. It’s not anything all-consuming, but it’s a fantasy he still returns to every once in a while, dancing in the back of his mind whenever little kids approach him and ask for a picture. He catches himself daydreaming about it at least a thousand times more often after the first time he watches George interact with younger fans.

#mod.recs #dnf #dreamnotfound #dnf fanfic #dnf fic #oneshot #1k-10k words #rated t #developing relationship #lodestones