also that thing in the middle is probably the best thing i've ever made. probably

best birthday ever.

fandom: girl meets world
pairing: riley matthews x lucas friar 
word count: 1,580
prompt: “who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?” - written for day four of rucas fanfiction week
notes: so i went away from the prompt just a tad bit, but don’t worry it still involves rucas + 4am ice cream + him breaking into her room. this takes place when they’re in high school and have been together for two-ish years (so their junior year) 

Cracking one eye open, Riley groans softly to herself. There has been an incessant tapping noise on her window for the last, oh five minutes, and for the first four she had convinced herself that it was the wind, and for the last 45 seconds she had been chalking it up to a dream, but she can’t escape the truth. Someone is outside her window and there’s a good chance that she’s about to get murdered.

The window isn’t locked, she can’t remember the last time it was, and her friends and family were always warning her that someday someone would realize her window was open and do something. Of course, it was always said with a smirk and laughter, but now, she was unarmed and someone was definitely coming to kill her.

She was going to die, and on her 17th birthday, how rude.

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anonymous asked:

Do you have a list of all your eruri fics? I just love them all so much and I'm wondering if you have made a post with them all together like some authors do, with like a little comment about the inspiration behind each one or whatever. I don't know if that's too much to ask lol. I just really love your eruri (I've seen someone call you an eruri god and it's so true) and you always put so much thought into your comments about everything. And also are you writing anything else at the moment?

Oh my god, you’re so nice. Why are people so nice to me? I don’t deserve all this niceness.

We are getting old, but I still love you (even when I don’t) A comedy about Levi and Erwin trying to improve their marriage with a self-help couples therapy book. Old married Eruri who try to reignite the passion in their relationship (with an emphasis on ‘old’). Erwin describing his own erection as ‘a plant trying to reach the sun’. Levi preferring his husband’s 'medium-soft floppy penis’. Erwin farting. Both of them getting very high on marijuana cookies. If you like the sound of any of that, then you will like this fic.

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lightwoodsdaddario  asked:

hi there :) I was wondering if you could write sterek + "It's been 2 hours and my date still hasn't showed up,I've been basically stood up and to make it worse everyone is starting to give me these apologetic looks but all of the sudden you come sit with me,explaining loudly why you didn't make it earlier although I've never seen you before and we end up having the best non-planned date ever."

i made it an hour instead, because you’d probably just leave after two, but as derek could tell you, one hour is bad enough…

on ao3

It’s not a big deal. Not yet, anyway.

People are late for dates all the time. Derek’s even been late for a date or two before, once from car trouble, once from fighting a rogue omega—and even though his date had found Derek’s battle-mussed hair cute, and he’s sure Jennifer would look just as good with what he insisted was just a bad hair day, he really hopes it’s the former. He’s had enough of dating people involved in the supernatural world, thank you very much.

Derek checks his watch again, biting the inside of his cheek. She’s twenty minutes late now, and hasn’t answered either of his texts. He doesn’t want to look clingy and message her again, but this is an extremely upscale restaurant, and the maître d’ is beginning to shoot him venomous looks. Derek takes a sip of his ice water and pretends not to notice, watching as the ice melts pathetically in the glass the waiter had set at the empty seat across from him.

After thirty minutes, the other patrons begin to notice him. How could they not? Like everyone here, he’s dressed to the nines, a black suit over a white dress shirt, beard as well-groomed as ever, hair styled just so. He’s also, most notably, sitting practically in the middle of the restaurant, all by himself.

After thirty-five minutes, he texts Jennifer again.

Derek Hale [7:35 PM]

Hey Jenn, don’t know if you’re having car trouble again or something, but please let me know if something came up and you can’t make it tonight. We can reschedule if you need.

Except no, they really can’t, because Derek has no desire to show his face in Chez Whittemore ever again. Plus, these reservations had cost him a fortune, and he’d had to wait a month to get them. Besides, if Jennifer’s not here… they’d booked this in the first place to spice up their relationship a little, since Jennifer seemed to be losing interest. She wouldn’t just ditch him though, would she?

At 7:40, the waiter—Matt, reads the embroidery on his royal red vest—comes back over to his table.

“Sir, do you think your date will be coming this evening?”  

He doesn’t do a very good job of hiding his sneer.

“Probably just running late,” Derek mutters.

He pulls at his collar, takes another sip of water. It’s sad when you can hear your own heart skip a beat.

“Yes, well…” Matt says, upturning his nose. “Do you suppose you could place your order? Not that we’re rushing you out, Mr. Hale, but I’m sure you understand your reservation began forty minutes ago. Perhaps it’s best to get a move on.”

Derek glances edgily toward the door. He should just leave. That’s what he should really do.

But god, the reservations were so expensive, and even if he’s been stood up—and gee, isn’t that fun to admit—he really shouldn’t waste them. Still… he doesn’t know if he can stand sitting here alone while the other diners shoot him sympathetic looks.

There’s one couple in particular, two tables away, that’s really making him squirm. They’re probably in their mid-twenties, and very cute together. Unfortunately, cute couples are the last thing Derek wants to see right now. The girl has dark hair braided loosely over one shoulder, with fair skin and big, brown eyes. The guy is tan and muscular, with brown hair that flops just a little over his forehead. The most noticeable thing, though, is the sad glances he keeps shooting Derek. He looks positively puppy-like, and every time Derek accidentally catches his eye, he gives him a small, encouraging smile. It doesn’t make him feel as good as the guy probably thinks it does.

Ten minutes later, Matt comes back out, sporting a snooty, I-knew-it look when he sees Derek’s still sitting alone.

“May I take your order, sir?”

Derek feels the last of his dignity drain away when he places an order for two lobsters, and a bottle of wine. He could probably sadness-eat both lobsters by himself, at this point.

Luckily, Matt has enough self-preservation skills not to comment.

By eight o’clock, Derek has begun playing on his phone, because really, who could judge him harder at this point? Besides, it’s better than exchanging looks with Puppy Dog Eyes.

He’s just leveled up in Candy Crush when someone practically bursts in through the front doors.

“Oh my gosh,” the man says loudly. It’s not enough to silence the restaurant, but it does make most of the patrons glance over. “I am so sorry. I’m here for dinner with Mr. Hale,” he tells the maître d’, and that certainly catches Derek’s attention. “The reservation should be in his name. Is he even here still?”

“Erm, yes, Mr…” the man behind the desk says, and Derek can easily picture his disapproving frown.

“Stilinski.”

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