Thinking about Eddie Diaz, freshly in a relationship with the love of his life. Afraid that his emotions, too big and so raw, will somehow scare Buck off. Okay, he knows practically that's not possible. Buck is irrevocably, undeniably, completely his, but that doesn't tame the irrationality of Eddie's brain. He feels out of depth, like a schoolgirl with her first boyfriend, giddy and rouge-cheeked every time Buck is around.
Thus, for the sake of his sanity and to get through the week, he decides to microdose on his affection for Buck.
Stealing a small kiss while Buck is washing the dishes; planting a peck on Buck's shoulder as he is just passing through the firestation, pressing his lips on Buck's earlobe, making him instantly giggle because Buck is just so ticklish there, thanking Buck for the dinner as usual, but now with an added kiss on his nose that makes his boyfriend bashfully smile.
He knows how Buck looks at him every time he pulls this off. Those blue eyes yearning, as if Eddie has not completely devoted his entire existence to this man. Eddie knows this will not work for long; the want is too strong, the yearning simply too big.
But till the dam breaks, and till they find each other entangled limb to limb, nails and teeth, out of breath and mouthing sinful words in the ear, shoving and pushing to somehow get closer until the heat of the other's body feels too scorching and not enough at the same time - Eddie will continue leaving these little crumbs of his emotions all over Buck throughout the day.
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some headcanons i have of robbe and sander as a couple:
sander is for sure the most adventurous one of the two of them so he’ll always drag robbe to places he loves of finds beautiful because he wants to share with him the things that make him happy
while robbe is a more reserved person, sander is loud and energetic, more even when he’s talking to robbe about the things he loves; when they’re at home robbe will just smile and ask questions and nod but when they’re outside, although robbe will be smiling and laughing too, this time he’ll be look at the ground instead so as to not attract any attention to himself, but always holding sander’s hand
sander loves taking pictures, specially of things he loves, so every time he can he’ll take a picture of robbe, even while he’s doing the most random things like washing the dishes or brushing his teeth (he prints some but the rest of the pics he saves them in a folder he named ‘the one’)
robbe’s way of comforting sander is with cuddles, lots of cuddles: whenever he sees sander feeling down robbe makes sure he knows he’s loved by pulling him towards their bed and spooning him, they stay there for hours but robbe doesn’t mind because he’ll always show sander that he’s never going anywhere
"Have you given much thought about what you want to do?" Aziraphale asked. "As a sort of 'cover', I mean."
Crowley didn't answer.
"I think I'll be a gardener," Aziraphale continued, so lost in his own thoughts --of this new, lesser-but-still-Great Plan, that he wasn't exactly expecting a response. "Surely whatever estate the ambassador's family is calling home will be in need of one? With vast grounds and flowerbeds --Maybe even a small vegetable garden? What better way to teach young Warlock how to care and nurture?" After a brief pause Aziraphale gave a definitive nod, the decision made. "Yes, a gardener. I like that." A small smile warmed his expression. "I think that'll do rather nicely. Now," he continued, as if just then remembering himself. "What what about you, my dear boy?"
Crowley's lips curled over his teeth in a smile most would likely consider sinister --If only because of the fangs.
Draco had stopped breathing. At least that's what it felt like, as if someone had punched him in the gut. Who knew a single sentence could have this effect. He had just left Hermione in the deserted corridor they had shared a passionate kiss in. He wished he'd never started this thing with her. Whatever it was. Maybe it would make this all hurt less. But as images of Gryffindor's princess flashed before his eyes, the words his father had spoken rang in his ears. He couldn't forget them.
"The Dark Lord wants Potter's mudblood friend dead."
This is part of the Stolen Moments series on [AO3].
A collection of moments between Andrew and Neil as their lives continue together through the years.
As always a big thanks to @velvetnoodle for being an amazing beta <3
On the first day in their new apartment, Neil stops at the entrance to look at the side table Allison made him buy. He’s been thinking about what a home actually means to him ever since he rented his first apartment. It never really felt like home when Andrew was so far away, but now they’re finally living together, and the first thing that comes to Neil's mind is that he’s safe here. He’s safe in a way that never felt possible a few years ago.
Neil decides to take his armbands off; he doesn’t need them in here. He feels Andrew stare at him as he places them on the side table. “From now on, these will stay here,” Neil explains, and starts to walk towards the kitchen, stopping when he notices that Andrew is still staring intensely at his armbands. “I don’t need to hide myself in here,” Neil adds quietly.
Andrew turns to glance at Neil but doesn’t say a word. Then he looks at his own arms and begins to take his armbands off too. When he places them next to Neil’s own, they both hear the sound of his knives touching the side table. Then Andrew turns his back, and walks into the kitchen, passing Neil as he does so.
Neil takes another glance at the side table, not quite believing what he just saw, and follows Andrew into the kitchen.
They cook side by side while Neil talks about the pizza place he noticed two blocks down. But on the back of his mind Neil keeps thinking of Andrew letting his armbands stay at the entry. It took them years for Andrew to feel comfortable to take them off near Neil for long periods of time. And now Andrew has just shown how much he trusts Neil by leaving them near the door.
“I decided to leave them at the entry because I feel safe here with you,” Neil says because he feels that he needs to say something about it, even if Andrew doesn’t want to discuss it further.
“375 percent,” Andrew says, “going on 376.”
Andrew’s tone indicates that he doesn't want to talk about it for now so Neil drops the subject and tries something else. “I’ve been wondering…” Neil starts, “what happens when I reach 500?”
Neil notices the twitch in Andrew’s expression that indicates that he’s amused. Andrew stops stirring the pasta and slowly turns to look at him. He motions for Neil to step closer until there’s only few inches between them. Andrew grabs his neck and pulls him even closer to rest their foreheads together.
“I should have thrown you from the rooftop all those years ago.”
"I would have dragged you with me," Neil reminds him, smiling when the memories of that day come back to him. The memories of Andrew giving him his key, of telling Andrew that he was tired of being nothing, and Andrew kissing him for the first time on the rooftop.
Andrew rolls his eyes and lets go of Neil. He turns his attention back to their dinner, and Neil lets himself himself stare at Andrew until a finger is pressed to his cheek and forces his head to turn and look in another direction.
“Go away,” Andrew tells him.
Neil decides to move and sit on the counter instead. Everything he needs is right here after all, and he has no plans on going anywhere else again.
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This is part of the Stolen Moments series on [AO3].
A collection of moments between Andrew and Neil as their lives continue together through the years.
This one is for @arituzz happy belated bday Ari! Hope you like it!!
As always a big thanks to @velvetnoodle for being an amazing beta <3
As Neil enters the car and puts his seatbelt on he can’t help but remember all the times he ran away, jumping from one city to the other, always looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed. But this is different, he thinks, as he looks sideways at Andrew waiting for him to start the engine. They aren’t running away; they’re just taking a break for a few days in Columbia.They’ll be back.
He leans his head against the window and lets himself get distracted by the cars as they pass. They share a comfortable silence in the car journey and only stop for a few minutes at a gas station to fill the tank. The farther they get from Fox Tower, the more relaxed Neil begins to feel, and when they enter the house Neil feels all the tension from the new recruits and becoming captain lift from his shoulders.
Neil lets himself smile as he leans against the doorframe. He watches Andrew move around the kitchen to take out an ice cream container from the freezer and then grab a spoon from the drawer.
“Going on 173%,” Andrew says without taking his eyes of the ice cream.
Neil rolls his eyes, but stops staring. He grabs the pack of cigarettes that Andrew dropped in the counter when he entered and starts to walk towards the garden. Once he’s outside, he lights one cigarette and lays down on the grass to contemplate the night sky.
Moments later, he hears the door being opened and Andrew’s soft steps on the grass. He steals the cigarette from Neil before he lays down next to him with their shoulders and legs lightly touching.
“How did you know?” Neil asks eventually. He hadn’t realized he was so tense and worried until he got here. But Andrew of course knew what to do. He saw right through Neil and brought him away to clear his head.
“Know what?” Andrew asks back.
Neil turns to the side and watches Andrew’s cigarette burn as he inhales. “That I needed this.”
Andrew turns to look at him and breathes out the smoke into Neil’s face before he answers. “You’ve been looking like you’re ready to run away any second.”
"I'm not going anywhere," Neil says quietly. It’s the truth, but the instinct of running away will always be in the back of his head from a life on the run.
Neil looks down at where his hand is resting right next to Andrew and turns it with his palm facing up. After a moment Andrew grabs it, lacing their fingers together. When Neil looks at him and their eyes meet he squeezes his hand as a thank you. Andrew squeezes back when he breaks eye contact with Neil and turns to look at the night sky.
I also combined this with prompt #67 “If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.” that was submitted by @easydodesit !
this is my first time posting any form of dnp fic on tumblr/attempting drabble so rip me
(check out other fanfic by me)
Drabble #1 : Soft Edges
word count: 860
Dan pretended not to notice when shirts that used to hang loose off his torso began to feel tight. They were a suffocating reminder that he had fallen into lazy habits that included too many takeaway pizzas and not enough time spent outside. Hard edges had given way to soft curves and he pretended as if he wasn’t changing.
They had fallen into their usual routine of a quiet night in; curled up on the couch with a bottle of rosé between them, the promise of takeaway food, and the latest Scandinavian crime drama. It was comfortable. It was habitual; just the two of them was all either needed to be content.
Phil gently nudged Dan’s leg, dragging his attention away from the subtitles during a dull moment.
“What do you want for dinner? Pizza maybe? Or how about Mexican?”
Dan just shrugged, his chocolate eyes only flitting over to Phil for a moment before bringing his attention back to the television, “I’m not really feeling like takeout.”
“There’s left over Chinese in the fridge,” Phil suggested but they both knew that the remaining sweet and sour pork would go untouched.
“I’m fine with this,” Dan pulled his half empty glass of rosé up to his lips with small smile flickering into existence before vanishing as he took a sip of the pink tinted wine.
He could feel Phil’s sky-blue eyes observe him for a few moments before the sound of the television vanished into silence.
“What’s wrong?” the older man asked in barely a whisper but it felt loud, echoing through the now silent apartment.
“They were about to find a clue about who the murderer is!” Dan’s lips formed a slight ‘o’ as he mocked being shocked about Phil pausing their tv show. He knew what was about to follow was inescapable.
“Every time I offer takeout you turn it down. What’s wrong, Dan? Do you want to go out for once instead of ordering in every night?”
Dan didn’t want to make eye contact but it was impossible not to when Phil’s words were coated with such sincere worry. He had built walls, boxing the situation at hand into a repressed corner of his self-consciousness and as he looked over at Phil, the walls began to crumble.
“I’m fine,” he told the raven-haired man and in response, a frown materialised upon both their lips.
Phil reached out to place a pale hand over Dan’s before his thumb began to trace lazy patterns upon the younger man’s skin, “If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”
“It’s stupid,” Dan responded, stifling a sigh. The touch of Phil was comforting, it reminded him of why they were still so ridiculously in love after so many years. It reminded him that he didn’t need to build walls around his insecurities because with Phil he could be transparent. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from building them anyway.
“Nothing can be as stupid as that time you asked me where the sun goes at night?” Phil’s cheeky smirk broke the tension for only a moment but it was enough to reassure Dan.
“I was very drunk,” he rolled his eyes, prepared to bring up the countless nonsensical questions Phil asks every day but he stopped himself, he couldn’t ignore what he had repressed. “Have you noticed how my clothes don’t fit like they used to?”
Beside him, Phil was silent for only several moments but it felt like aeons passed between them before he spoke, “Is that what’s freaking you out?”
Dan’s chocolate eyes melted as all the walls he had built dissipated beneath those words. It seemed silly, having the concept said out loud.
“I’m not as fit as I used to be,” he admitted before prying his hand free of Phil’s and poking his stomach cautiously.
“Neither am I,” Phil replied. His response was light and giggly but the undertone of sincerity was still ever-present. “We both gave up on going to the gym and it’s not like we’ve been blessed with super cool athlete genes.”
“I was just worried…” Dan trailed off, not knowing how to explain it in a way that would sound silly. “I was worried that you might not love me as much.”
“Dan,” Phil said in a tone filled with fondness, “I love you for you no matter how many pizzas we eat per week.” His hand reached out to tenderly stroke the younger boy’s cheek before moving down to gently trace a line on his hips. “I love your curves and soft edges and I love seeing you happy. You can always buy new clothes if you don’t feel comfortable but Dan, please understand that you are perfect the way you are.”
Blush had risen on Dan’s cheeks and a grin slowly pulled on his lips, “you really mean that?” He already knew the answer but it was nice to hear it out loud, just for reassurance.
Phil nodded before placing a tender kiss on his cheek, “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”
Mor would be scared of breaking something if it weren’t for the fact that she’s done this several times in the last century, Az has her arching her head so far back on the pillow. Somehow, when he gets that tongue of his between her legs, it no longer matters that they’ve done this countless times before. It’s new and tumultuous and unhinging and Mor loves nothing more than to let him draw it out for her.
Tonight, though, she wonders if maybe she went too far for what he’s putting her through. Her neck is drawn so long in an opposing curve to what her hips are trying to do against the firm grip of Az’s hands holding her down, that when her body is shaking and her fists are wound up in the sheets on either side, Az backs off his tongue just enough so Mor loses it.
One of those tightly wound fists flies up in the air and makes to slam hard on her own thigh, frustrated. They’ve been at this an hour and he’s kept her on the edge the entire time, not quite letting her go over. If she sat up, Mor’s certain she’ll find a ring over her pillow from where her sweat drenched hair has left a stain.
But a darkness shoots out and snatches Mor’s hand mid-air, holding it firmly in place. She glances down to where she’s felt him moving in her between her legs and sees Az’s dark hazel eyes grinning madly at her beneath that messy crop of hair. He turns his mouth to the side, teeth grazing on the most sensitive part of her thigh threatening to make more than a polite introduction with her skin, the sight and feel of which ruin her.
Mor whimpers while her hand trembles between the wisps of Azriel’s shadows. She’s ready for him to finish her. Cauldron why can’t he just finish her?? And the way his teeth continue to glide so smoothly, so slowly, over her skin pressing a little more urgently with each pass to punish her for snapping her hand? She’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to him and get that tongue inside her again.
“Az,” she whispers, not because she’s afraid to beg him for it, but only because he’s gotten her so unglued she won’t be capable of managing more than a strained whine for a long while. “Azriel,” and her fist shakes, her entire body does, “please.”
His eyes dance up to her hand, the shadow entwining it in two like twin serpents prepared to snake their way down that long, slender arm of hers if she’s good. Mor nods, knowing what he wants.
Taking one precious breath to steady herself, Mor relaxes the muscles of her fingers working her way down the limb until she’s unwoven every piece of her body in his grip. She looks at Az and inclines her head.
Better?
The shadows fall across her skin like water, kissing and caressing at every turn the river takes until she’s ravished across her chest in answer to her silent question. Her hand plummets back down to the sheets and grips when Az’s teeth sink in at her thigh, not enough to harm - never enough to harm - but just enough so that she feels an extra ache in her core through the hurt of his bite when he slides two of his calloused fingers inside her and pumps hard.
Finally, she comes, screaming into a pocket of shadow Az casts over her mouth. Sometimes she wonders if they sing the sound to him when he does this with her. The sound of his name calling him home to her for how gloriously liberated he’s made her feel tonight coming for him.
An hour she waited. An hour she barely moved. An hour she almost half a dozen times.
