fics that are mine

[In] Sickness

anonymous asked:

Hey, that fic about andrew in car accident was amazing!!! Could you please write hurt/comfort: You’re burning up + andreil (with sick andrew) ?

(Lord have mercy it took me FOREVER to get around to writing this! Anonymous I hope you are still out there and I’m sorry and I hope you like this!)

Brief but not explicit mentions of some troubling things from Andrew’s past, including Drake.

Neil’s duffle bag is on the floor outside he and Andrew’s room. There’s no note, no texts from Andrew. Neil tries the door but it’s locked.

“Oh, baby, what did you do?” Nicky asks. He hangs over Neil’s shoulder, his breath smelling like coffee.

“Nothing,” Neil mutters, elbowing Nicky off. He picks up his duffle and just stands there wondering. He hasn’t seen Andrew since this morning. They hadn’t fought the night before in fact it had been a really nice night. Andrew had even given him a small peck on the forehead when he left the dorm early to go running before class. So why? Why was his stuff out here? Why was he being shut out?

Aaron shoved by him, sending Neil crashing against the wall.

“Looks like the honeymoon’s over,” Aaron smirked. It was a very unpleasant expression. “Not that I’m surprised. After all Andrew’s just—”

“Aaron,” Neil cuts him off, his glare as sharp as Andrew’s knives, “shut up. And fuck off.”

Aaron snorts and flips Neil off before going to his room. Neil drags his duffle out to the common area where Kevin’s watching an exy game and doing pushups.

“Andrew kicked me out,” Neil says, taking a seat on the floor next to Kevin. He’s not really watching the game; he’s too busy trying to figure out why he’s been exiled.

“Fix it,” Kevin pants. His gaze doesn’t waver from the screen and his movements don’t pause. “We have practice.”

Neil nods but it’s only to placate Kevin. He knows Andrew and if this was really about him then he’s fairly certain Andrew would have said something. Leaving his stuff in the hall is too passive aggressive for Andrew. Locking himself in the room isn’t a typical Andrew play, either. If Andrew were pissed he would continue with his routine while giving Neil the cold shoulder. No, this has to be something else.

“I’m going to go talk to Renee.” Kevin doesn’t even acknowledge that Neil has spoken. This Neil thinks to himself is why Dan is captain, not you.

Renee and Allison are hanging out, perched in the windows, making commentary on the students walking on the sideways below them. Well, Allison is making commentary and Renee is trying to stop her from being mean. It’s a lost cause.

“Here he is! Ladies and ladies, may I present the Walking Wound Man of Palmetto State, the Stone Cold Survivor, Neil Josten!” Allison’s loud enough that the students outside look up at the window.

“Shhh!” Renee tries to shush Allison but she’s laughing too much. Neil shakes his head but lets Allison pull him into a side hug.

“Hey babe, what’s up? You come to hang out with the foxiest ladies in all of South Carolina, no, all of the world?” Allison plants a messy, boozy kiss on his cheek. Neil isn’t sure why Allison is day drinking but at least she’s in a happy place.

“I was wondering if Andrew went to class today.”

Allison wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “One track mind, Josten, not attractive.”

“He wasn’t in class with me,” Renee offers, “but he texted me and said that he would need notes later. And homework. I haven’t seen him all day.”

“I haven’t either,” Allison comments, “but I try to avoid the twins at all costs.”

“Okay, thanks,” Neil starts heading for the door, “I’ve got to go… do some stuff. Allison, you’ll be sober tonight?”

Allison makes a raspberry and snorts, “As sober as Day. You’re not the boss of me yet, Neil.”

Neil nods and hurries out the door while he still can. Dan is going to have her hands full tonight.

He waits until his other suite mates have left for dinner before knocking on the bedroom door. He squats outside, ear pressed to the wood, listening for movement. There’s nothing.

“Andrew? Hey, babe, you going to let me in?” Nothing. “Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron went to dinner. It’s just me.” Nothing. Neil tries knocking again. Nothing. He calls Andrew’s cell. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Now he’s starting to get a little panicked because Andrew doesn’t play the silent game, not like this. There’s a very real possibility that he can’t come to the door and Neil starts mentally running through a list of awful scenarios, starting with the worst: what if he’s dead? The thought, unlikely as it is, won’t be ignored.

“Andrew? I’m unlocking the door, okay?” His fingers are shaking as he gets the key in the lock.

The room is dark, the blinds closed and all the lights off. Neil flicks on a desk light and closes the door behind him. There’s a lump in Andrew’s bed. It’s not moving.

Neil tiptoes across the room, wary of waking Andrew if he’s asleep. They’ve come a long way but Andrew still reacts badly to being woken.

The blankets are pulled up over Andrew’s head, only tufts of blond hair peek out from below the heavy comforter. Neil hovers over the bed, trying to determine if Andrew is breathing.

“Andrew?” His voice is loud, not a shout but above normal talking volume. “Andrew Minyard if you’re alive, move! Or something.” He almost says please but he catches himself in time. There’s no movement so he moves on to more extreme measures, touching Andrew’s shoulder.

This produces a stunningly violent reaction. Andrew grabs Neil’s wrist, bending it back almost to the point of breaking. Although the grab was fast, the rest of his reactions are slower and he doesn’t look right…

“Andrew! God, it’s me! Neil. Shit, you’re hurting my wrist, Andrew.”

“Neil?” Andrew’s voice is hoarse and sluggish. He blinks slowly and wavers before releasing Neil and falling back onto the bed. “Thought I locked the door.”

Neil kneels on the bed next to Andrew. “You did. What’s up with that?” Andrew’s shivering violently, trying to pull the blankets back up around his face. Neil helps him and his fingers brush Andrew’s skin. “Oh my God, Andrew! You’re burning up.”

Andrew coughs weakly. “It’s just a fever. I’ll be fine.”

“What?” Neil grabs a bottle of water from his desk and hands it to Andrew. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Just… using… your line,” Andrew mutters. His eyes are closed and Neil presses his palm to Andrew’s forehead, the heat coming off him is unreal.

“Well, I’m stupid, you’ve always said that,” Neil replies. “We’ve gotta get your fever down. How long has it been like this? Andrew?”

Andrew’s almost asleep again but he opens his eyes enough to glare at Neil. “I didn’t feel good this morning. That’s why I put your stuff out. So you don’t catch it.”

“Oh for fuck’s—” Neil fumes. He’s trying to remember every home remedy he and his mother used for treating fevers.

“Neil,” Andrew’s voice is weak and it makes Neil want to panic. Andrew is never weak. “Relax. I Googled this. Rest and fluids. See, I’m resting and,” he shakes the water bottle, “fluids. You’re keeping me from resting. Go away.”

“No.” Neil climbs back onto the bed, peering at Andrew like he can magically make him better just by being close to him.

“Ugh. Fuck off,” Andrew groans and covers his face up with blankets.

“Fine.” Neil slides off the bed but he doesn’t move from his post. He studies his phone, reading all the articles he can about fevers and related illness. He’s upset that there’s nothing he can do to help, Andrew’s already taking care of it just by sleeping and drinking. After a while he gives up and pulls a chair over. He can’t see Andrew, can’t touch him, all he can do is be there.

The minutes pass by slowly but Neil doesn’t really notice. He’s thinking about Andrew locking him out, about Andrew getting sick. He wants to ask Nicky what Andrew’s done before. As long as he’s know Andrew the sturdy goalkeeper has never gotten sick. Andrew has always been strong and reliable that way. Even after Drake, Andrew didn’t care about his wellbeing; he was too focused on Aaron. Neil hates that about Andrew, hates that the man he loves more than anything does so little to take care of himself. Like locking Neil out to keep him from catching whatever illness is wreaking havoc on Andrew’s immune system… god, Neil can’t believe it took him so long to figure it out.

When the guys come back from dinner Neil leaves his post, ready to get some answers from Nicky or Aaron. Both guys are in their room, arguing about movies and actors, until they see Neil. He’s annoyed that they aren’t immediately concerned about Andrew. He’s annoyed that both of them assumed that Andrew was fine and that he and Neil had fought. The amount of concern that either of them gives to their family is so lacking that it making Neil furious.

“Andrew’s sick,” Neil states, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Nicky, then Aaron.

“No he’s not,” Aaron says dismissively. “Andrew doesn’t get sick.”

Nicky’s slightly more apologetic. “Really, Neil, he doesn’t. I’ve never had to take him to the doctor for being sick, I don’t think he’s ever gone to Abby, either.”

It takes all of Neil’s self-restraint not to yell. “You two are both assholes, you know that? Andrew has a fever of 101.2 right now!” He’s totally making that part up, but they don’t know that. “That’s why he’s been locked in the room all day, he doesn’t want to get us sick by spreading his germs.”

“The only germs he has he probably got from you!” Aaron’s voice is ugly, the unspoken accusation is uglier.

“Okay! Everyone calm the fuck down!” Nicky yells, getting between Aaron and Neil. “Aaron, you’re out of line. Neil, I totally believe you but what do you want us to do about it?”

“I just want…” Neil waves his hands over his head, feeling more worked up than he has in a long time. “I just want you to care. He’s been in there, alone, all day. Because that’s how he knows to take care of himself, by shutting himself up where he’s safe and no one can get to him. Do you get that? What do you think happened when he got sick as a kid? And he couldn’t—” Neil chokes on a sob and sits down hard, his back to the door. He didn’t mean to say that, didn’t mean to spout out the thoughts that have been torturing him, especially not to them.

Nicky and Aaron look ill, both of them exchange an uneasy look that says that they’ve tried not to think about Andrew’s childhood, especially after they all found out about Drake. Andrew won’t talk about it but Neil knows, he knows it was horrible.

“Neil,” Nicky reaches for him but Neil pulls away. “Neil, we didn’t know.” Neil snorts. The amount that Nicky and Aaron didn’t know, still don’t know, is unforgiveable.

Neil gets to his feet, brushes off his running shorts. “Whatever. You know now. Do better next time. Or don’t. Fuck you both.” He doesn’t slam the door on the way out because he doesn’t want it to accidentally wake Andrew.

He ignores Kevin on the way to the kitchen and grabs more waters and a bendy straw. He should probably eat but he’s too amped up from fighting with Nicky and Aaron and he wants to be with Andrew, just in case he wakes up.

Andrew is still sleeping so Neil settles back in the desk chair to wait, skimming over his textbooks but not really retaining what he reads. He ignores Kevin’s summons to attend practice, locking the door so the big striker won’t disturb Andrew. Around eleven Andrew wakes up and Neil hands him an opened bottle of water with a straw. Andrew rolls his eyes at the gesture but he still accepts it, chewing on the straw while he thirstily drinks almost the entire bottle.

“Are you hungry?” Neil asks. “We’ve got tomato soup I could heat up.”

Andrew shakes his head and leans back on the pillows. “You should go sleep on the couch.”

“Whatever.” Neil’s been resting half on the bed, arms folded on the blankets, head pillowed in the crook of his arm. “If I haven’t caught what you have yet then I’m not going to. Besides, the guys already think you hate me because you threw my stuff out.”

Andrew smirks a little. “I did not. If you opened your bag you would see that I nicely folded your clothes and put them in there.”

“Hmm. Yeah, we both know how good you are at riffling through people’s drawers.”

“You always have to bring that up.”

“Well.” Neil plucks at the blankets. He’s glad Andrew’s talking but he’s still worried and messed up about everything else. It’s taking a good deal of effort to keep his thoughts to himself; Andrew doesn’t need that burden now, maybe not ever.

“Neil.” Andrew’s fingers are in his hair and that feels nice, so nice that Neil thinks he could fall asleep just like this. “Junkie.” Neil turns his head to the side so he can see Andrew. His face is still flushed and his eyes are bright. Fever. “Either get on the bed or sleep on the floor. Sleeping in a chair is bad for your back.”

Neil doesn’t wait for Andrew to rescind his offer. He scoots onto the bed, still wearing his practice clothes. He snuggles in, but not too close. Andrew’s already overheated and he doesn’t need Neil’s body heat adding to it. Neil holds out his hand and Andrew takes it.

“Your hands are cold,” Andrew yawns.

“Mmmm,” Neil hums. “Your hands are hot.”

“They’re always like that.”

Neil huffs a quiet laugh and shifts around a bit more until he’s settled. He feels warm from the heat radiating off Andrew and he feels safe, but more than that he feels wanted and accepted. Andrew Minyard is a champion at pushing people away but for once he’s reaching out to pull someone closer. Neil doesn’t know how he got so lucky but he’s holding on and never letting go.

what happened after magnus poured his heart out to alec?

this takes place after the hug in 2x15:

just some fluff to soothe our angst filled hearts…
(legit gasped very quietly in the middle of a lecture when i thought of this and quickly typed out an outline to write later lmao)


“There is nothing ugly about you,” said Alec, his fingers burning into the side of Magnus’ neck. Magnus felt a wave of relief wash over him and let out a breath as Alec brought him in for a tight hug. Magnus immediately clasped his hands around Alec’s torso, almost as though he was scared that if he let go Alec would leave.

He felt Alec’s chin against his shoulder and couldn’t help but bury his own face into the crook of his neck. Magnus breathed in, breathed every bit of Alec in and refused to breathe out. It just felt so warm and nice near the nape of Alec’s neck and Magnus knew that he was in way too deep.

Pulling away, Magnus felt a shiver down his spine at the loss of Alec’s body against his. He looked at the boy, at his hazel eyes and their openness, but looked away. He let out a huff of a laugh which earned a confused frown from Alec. “Oh, God,” Magnus exclaimed, still avoiding looking at anything to do with Alec.

“What is it?” asked Alec and Magnus’ heart ached at the boy’s anxious tone.

Magnus looked back up and he could feel his eyes well with tears. They were so close that Magnus could almost hear Alec’s heartbeat quicken. Magnus blinked, trying to stop the tears from falling but failed miserably as one slipped through. “I love you so much it hurts,” said Magnus in a shaky whisper. Alec’s confused expression slipped into a look of utter despair as he moved his finger to wipe the tear from Magnus’ face.

He didn’t know what to think, let alone say. It hurt? Was that a good thing? Loving wasn’t supposed to hurt, it was supposed to be the easiest thing in the world. At least, that was what Alec had read about in so many novels. That was what he had understood. But love was complicated, he knew that. He knew that his parents didn’t have it easy and he remembered the way it seemed impossible before he came out.

But it was supposed to be easy with the right one. It was supposed to feel good, it wasn’t supposed to hurt. Alec choked back a tear of his own before speaking. “Why does it hurt?” he said, barely louder than a whisper.

Magnus looked at him with a soft smile, and suddenly Alec felt a clenching feeling in his chest and he understood. He remembered feeling this way for hours before finally finding Magnus after Valentine’s attack. “Because it’s you,” Magnus said and Alec felt like he would pass out. He didn’t understand what Magnus had meant by it hurting until now.

He looked at Magnus with so much sadness that for a second, Magnus forgot his glamour, letting it slip. His cat eyes shone brightly and Alec’s expression didn’t change. Magnus had not expected for it to change, but part of him hoped that it did so that it wouldn’t hurt so much later. Once Magnus realised just what he was showing Alec, he looked away and blinked rapidly to bring his glamour back up. He settled for staring at his own hands in his lap if it meant he didn’t have to see Alec’s pained expression.

Alec reached a hand out and placed it in Magnus. “Hey,” he whispered, stroking his thumb against Magnus’ rings. “It’s okay. I love your eyes.” The sound of Alec’s raspy whisper sent shivers throughout Magnus’ entire body. Magnus smiled, not being able to believe that he actually had someone like Alec in his life. Quickly, Magnus wiped his face, drying them of tears and ran a hand under his eyes as well.

“Now,” said Magnus, trying his best to sit upright. “I’m guessing you’re gonna need a Warlock to transport Valentine to Idris.”

Alec’s lips parted. He couldn’t let Magnus do this, not now, not like this. “Yeah… I was thinking of asking Catarina,” he replied, hoping Magnus would agree. Magnus took note of the way Alec said ‘ask’ and not ‘use’. So many Shadowhunters he had met assumed that Downworlders would be at their service whenever they needed. “You know, considering…” Alec trailed off and Magnus raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

“Considering…?” questioned Magnus. Alec avoided looking at Magnus, knowing that if he did, he would lose. He had already lost. “Alexander, I’ll be fine. I promise,” said Magnus and Alec looked up with a look of uncertainty.

“Are you sure?” he asked, softly. Magnus nodded reassuringly, his hand squeezing Alec’s.

Alec squeezed back. “I’ll be right beside you,” he whispered. Magnus smiled and nodded.

“Let me grab my jacket,” he said before getting up and moving towards the bedroom. Alec moved to let Magnus pass and took a seat on the sofa. He took note of the numerous empty liquor bottles and his chest ached again. Yes, he definitely understood what Magnus was talking about. He waited for a few minutes but when Magnus didn’t come back out, he decided to follow him into his room.

Alec stopped at the doorway, leaning against the threshold. He watched as Magnus stood in front of the mirror, hands pulling at the collar of his shirt and jacket. Magnus was fidgeting, adjusting his necklaces in a way that looked like he was stalling.

Alec noticed the way the jacket clung to Magnus’ form, emphasising his muscles and arms in a way that made Alec weak. He had to swallow hard and look away to stay collected. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” spoke Alec and Magnus flinched lightly in surprise.

Magnus scoffed, looking down at his fingernails. “Believe me, I do.” Magnus wanted nothing more than to hand Valentine over to the Clave. After everything he had done…

Magnus snapped the memory out of his mind and sighed. He turned around to lean against the dresser and face Alec. He was hunched over a little and had a look of uncertainty on his face. He was still fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket and pulling at his collar. He looked uncomfortable and Alec couldn’t tell if it was in his jacket or his own skin.

“Hey,” said Alec, standing straight and taking a step closer. “You look great,” he whispered. Magnus dropped his hands with a deep sigh and a soft smile, Alec’s wide grin calming him down instantly.


i hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think! if you have any prompts or scenarios for me, please head over to my ask box.

in the meantime, how that dinner should continue if not for that impending fight.

Anonymous said:

Hi!! Do you have any top favorite sugamon fics that you suggest to read? :)

Be Mine, Baby (series)

nothing makes sense when you’re in love

All I Want Is The Taste That Your Lips Allow.

Ten Years.

Silky Bunny

Boy, I’ve Been Watching You Like a Hawk in the Sky

Ferolino

Sex & Mixtapes

when the lights go out (run away with me)

이사 (Move)

Nothing Like Us.

Apex Predator

come closer, tell a secret boy

I Will Have You

Video Camera

six to nine (we’ll play the game)

cards on the table, we’re both showing hearts

Allure(You’ve got it)

Swirling Colours of our Galaxy

never settle (chasing down the devil)

Helping Hand

Day 2 of my #LanceBdayWeek series - Friends

Read on AO3


Dedicated to Aleesha @macnkeith since she gave me the idea a while ago


Lance was sitting in the kitchen eating his usual breakfast of food goo when he first got the idea. He had been talking with Pidge about lion upgrades when Keith came in looking like he walked right out of Night of the Living Dead or something.

“Dude, Keith, did you even sleep last night?” Lance asked, bewildered.

“Uh, yeah? What are you talking about?” Keith looked at him oddly as he sat down with his own bowl of food goo.

“No offense, but you look terrible.”

Keith leveled him with a blank look “How could I possibly take offense to that?” he said, voice monotone.

“No, no, sorry. But, like, what do you wash your face with? It’s breaking out a lot.”

“I don’t really. Usually I’ll just use whatever I have in the shower.”

Lance’s face fell and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “God is testing me,” he muttered to himself. He cleared his throat and pointed an accusatory finger at Keith. “Meet me at my room after dinner, I’m fixing- that.” He gestured vaguely at Keith’s face.

“Rude,” Keith huffed, but he didn’t refuse. Lance counted that as a win, and resumed his conversation with Pidge.


That night, when Lance got up from the table after dinner, Keith did too. Lance waited in the doorway for him, and they walked back to Lance’s room together.

“So what crazy shit are you gonna do to my face? You know, so I know if I need to run,” Keith joked as they made their way through the castle halls.

“Oh relax, you big baby.” Lance waved him off. “I’ve done this same thing for Hunk and Allura.”

“You still haven’t specified what ‘this’ is,” Keith pointed out, but he wasn’t graced with a response. They continued walking in silence until they reached Lance’s room. When they went in, Lance started toward the bathroom while Keith stood awkwardly off to the side. After a second, he peeked through the doorway and pointed at the bed.

“Sit,” was all he said before going back to the task at hand. Keith looked at where he had disappeared skeptically but obeyed nonetheless. Lance found what he was looking for soon afterwards and sat down next to him with an oddly-shaped bottle. He picked it up and squeezed something blue out onto his palm. “Okay, look at me,” he said as he raised the hand with the goo up to Keith’s face. Keith looked up in alarm and moved his face out of Lance’s reach.

“What is that?” Keith wrinkled his nose.

Lance rolled his eyes and dropped his hand to his lap. “It’s a face mask, it’s not gonna kill you. I got it from that planet we visited a month ago—the one that had the trees with the pink leaves.” Keith still didn’t look convinced, and Lance sighed. “Fine, I’ll go first.” He grabbed a mirror and started painting the cream onto his own face. When he was done, he wiped his hand on a towel and raised an eyebrow at Keith. “See, it’s fine. Happy?”

Keith considered for a moment before nodding slowly. “Yeah, okay,” he assented.

“Thank you.” Lance squeezed more of the mask into his hand and spread it across Keith’s face. His brow furrowed for a second at the first touch, but it quickly relaxed. Lance held Keith’s chin in hand as he worked, turning his face as he needed.

“Where’d you learn all this stuff about face masks?”

“I’m the youngest in my family, so my older sisters were always going on about it. Made me curious, I guess.” Lance paused as he put more of the mask on Keith’s nose. “I did a lot of reading about what is and isn’t good for your skin, and Hunk and I always traded things we learned. And I was always asking my sisters for tips. That’s how I learned how to paint nails, too.” He wiped his hands off on the towel again and threw it across the room to the bathroom.

“You paint your nails?”

“And Hunk’s and Pidge’s. I’ve gotten really good at it.”

Keith looked down at Lance’s hands. “They’re not painted now.”

“No, but my toes are. Want me to do yours?”

“Why?” Despite not getting an actual answer, Lance got up and retrieved a handful of small, brightly colored bottles.

“Because it’s fun to have colorful nails. Much more fun than being dressed head to toe in black.” He gave Keith a pointed look as he sat on the floor next to his bed. He patted the space in front of him and Keith slid down to his level. “Okay, I have blue, green, purple, and a red-ish orange. What’s your pick?”

Keith looked over the bottles and shrugged. “Purple, I guess. I don’t see the point in this.”

“The point is it looks cool and makes you happy.” Lance shook the purple bottle and pulled Keith’s left hand closer to him.

“If you say so.”

“Trust me, you’ll like it,” Lance promised with a smile.


Day 1

anonymous asked:

Flintwood and 74

“No, absolutely not,” Marcus declared, whipping the slim, polka-dot patterned piece of material from around his neck. “It looks ridiculous. And I’m not looking ridiculous at such a public event.” He concluded, thrusting the tie back in Oliver’s rather disgruntled looking face.

“Marcus. You have to wear it. It’s a wedding. Harry Potter’s wedding for Merlin’s sake.” Oliver whined, looping the tie back around Marcus’ neck and set about arranging it in a wonderfully neat Windsor knot.

“That’s exactly why I don’t want to wear it, Wood. It’s his wedding. This is probably going to be the most photographed wedding in recent years. You’re having a complete laugh if you think I’m wearing something that makes me look like a thick-necked weasel.” Marcus argued, loosening the knot which Oliver had tied so tight it almost seemed like he wanted to choke his boyfriend.

“I’m not having a laugh, though. That’s the funny thing. You’re wearing it whether you like it or not. I’m not being photographed next to someone who looks like they’re simultaneously hungover and wasted. Which is how you’d look if you didn’t wear this.” Oliver shrugged, pedantically dusting his hands over Marcus’ crisp white shirt.

“You say that as if you don’t find me mind-blowingly attractive looking a mess,” Marcus muttered, mainly to himself, as he turned to the mirror to examine himself. “I can’t do it, I’m sorry. I’m not wearing a tie.

Oliver groaned, hands slapping to his face and fingers dragging over his features in a style so overly dramatic that Marcus almost found it endearing. “Please, Marcus. I never ask you to do anything, just please do this for me. It’s a tie. It’s not shackles, it’s not a tattoo declaring ‘I love Harry Potter’ or anything like that. It’s a piece of material. Get over it, please.”

Marcus thought for a minute; he knew he looked quite nice all dolled up, as Oliver had eloquently put it earlier, black suit neatly tailored to accentuate his sportsman build. It was just the tie. He hated them, found them so constricting that all he could focus on was the tight feeling almost preventing him from breathing.

“Fine,” he finally sighed, twirling the tie around his fingers as he turned to look at a ridiculously content Oliver. “Only because you’re practically begging me.”

Waving Goodbye (Part 3)

Series Includes: Steve x reader, Friend!Sam x reader and lots of angst.

Brief Synopsis: You are tired of sharing Steve with the world, but he refuses to stop dedicating his life to helping people, even if it means losing you. Based on the song “Waving Goodbye” by Sia.

Word Count: 770

A/N: It’s finally here! I’m sorry I take forever to write. My brain likes to switch between all of the drafts and ideas I have constantly, so it’s just mess. Anyway, this is going to end up having more parts than I expected because what I originally planned for part three is too long and I had to split it up. I know it’s kinda moving slow, but I hope you guys enjoy.

Originally posted by wakandaentertainment

After Sam returned from his run, you made him help you start searching for apartments to look at, deciding to take the first step toward a life without Steve. If you didn’t start soon, you might change your mind again, and you couldn’t afford to keep your life on hold any longer.

With a few days of research, you had found a good selection of places to consider. Since you were making some progress, you determined that it was time to return Steve’s sweatshirt, but every time you mustered the courage to go to his apartment, he was never there.

Keep reading

A list of everything I’ve written since discovering and falling in love with this amazing show and fandom:

Posted to AO3

The Pillar Upon Which England Rests: They have all saved him, at one time or another, in different ways, these people Sherlock Holmes has come to call friends. But she was the first.
Post-Reichenbach, Mrs Hudson sits with John and tells him the story of how she first met and befriended Sherlock.

Inscrutable to the Last: He wasn’t Sherlock, he couldn’t work miracles. All he’d ever been able to do was write about them.
An alternate take on a Reichenbach reunion. John is married to Mary, and working out his grief over Sherlock by writing a novel. Things take an unusual turn when Mary accidentally discovers what he’s been writing.

Prince with a Thousand Enemies: There’s a rabbit in the nursery. John isn’t getting any texts.
Post-HLV, John receives a surprise gift from Sherlock. It takes him a little time to figure out what it actually means.

Leaves: It came on a Wednesday, with the post.
A horror story written for the Spook Me Multifandom Ficathon.
John begins caring for a strange plant that may or may not be hallucinogenic. Very loosely inspired by The X-Files episode “Field Trip.”

Out There: FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.
A fusion with my other great fannish love, The X-Files. Sherlock and John investigate strange phenomena, get themselves embroiled in a government conspiracy and fall in love.

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea: Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.
Post-S4. A fix-it in which I take canon at face value and try to make it all fit. Sherlock comes to terms with his traumatic past, bonds with Rosie, reconnects with John and slowly turns Baker Street back into a home.

Crime Writer (WIP): A shadowy flight into the dangerous world of a man who does not exist. John Watson, a young loner on a crusade–to document and champion the cause of the innocent, the helpless, the powerless–in a world of criminals who operate above the law.
A very silly Knight Rider fusion, with John playing the role of Michael Knight and Sherlock as K.I.T.T.

Incidents with Dogs, Curious and Otherwise: Rosie, it seems, is quite taken with dogs. So is Sherlock. John cannot help but notice.
Another post-S4 piece. John comes to some long-overdue realizations about Sherlock and conspires with Rosie to do something nice for him.

Nothing Happened in Belarus: Six years, give or take. And one night where nothing happened.
A canon-compliant time travel fic that (very briefly) links S4 Sherlock up with S1 John.

Tumblr Ficlets

Outtakes and Alternate Scenes from (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea

Music To My Ears (Connor/Evan)

Summary: Connor doesn’t laugh half as much as Evan thinks he should. He makes it his mission to change this. (Based on this prompt , hope y’all enjoy!) 

If you asked Evan to pinpoint the moment he realized he had a giant crush on Connor Murphy, he’d know the answer immediately. They’d been in Connor’s room, just talking, and Evan had said something, he honestly couldn’t remember what exactly it was, and. Connor had just burst out laughing.

Not the little chuckle he usually did, but full-blown, head-thrown-back laughter that lasted for at least a few minutes before he regained his composure.

His laugh was uncharacteristically loud and a bit high-pitched and it made his normally pale face turn pink and dimples appear on his cheeks.

That was the moment Evan realized how absolutley fucking adorable Connor Murphy was.

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Straight Face

Ari/Dante

Summary: Ari and Dante play a game to see who can keep their face straight the longest. Dante is losing and he doesn’t like it.

A/N: Based on this prompt. I hope you like it!

Words: 766

Dante’s face was smooth. Ari hadn’t really noticed it before. No lines or scars to create any sort of backstory. The skin was historyless, young, yet to be marked by this world. But then again, Ari reckoned his own wasn’t much different.

Why was he studying Dante’s face? Because he wasn’t allowed to look away. Look away, smile, twitch, and you lose the game. Ari very much didn’t want to lose this game.

Dante was definitely losing this game. He’d already blinked several times, claiming that the point wasn’t to turn your eyeballs into the Sahara desert, but to keep your face straight, so he was allowed to blink. And talk, apparently, and bite his lips, and slap a hand over his mouth, and so many other things that Ari apparently wasn’t allowed to do. But it was fine, because Ari had kept his face immobile for several minutes, and therefore was clearly winning.

Dante apparently didn’t like that he was winning.

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anonymous asked:

There are approximately 472826371 post season 2 fics out there, since you're good at recommending fanfic, which would you recommend?? (Non-AU I mean)

Hi!! Weirdly, I don’t read that much sense8 fic for some reason, but here are a few I’ve read and love:

I haven’t read this one but I found a few days ago and it looks good:

I feel like no Sense8 fic rec is complete without @fiftyeightminutes​, so check out their fic tag and ao3, I’m sure you’ll find something you like <3

Also La Vie En Rose series by me is also canon-compliant post-s2! There’s two parts of three up so far, and I’m slowly but steadily working at the last one

Anyone else with recs for anon here feel free to put them in reblogs or replies on this post!! And any writers go ahead and shamelessly self-promote, we need more fics to read!!

i needed to write something… set in final tour universe.


Words had never been Levi’s strength, but he finds them more difficult now. Stands in line at the grocery store and rehearses what he’s going to say to the clerk, fidgeting anxiously with his wallet. Cash. He always carries cash. And it’s dirty and he thinks of the teenager’s fingers brushing against his when he gives back the change, just like he must have done three hundred times earlier, and he fidgets with his wallet and thinks of what to say and how to avoid this. His head snaps lazily to attention when his total is announced, he fumbles through the pocket of his wallet and hands over the bills, making sure to leave enough paper between him and the clerk. The young man says something, and Levi processes it in what feels like slow motion, drawing lazily through the belts of his mind like the conveyor that’s rolling up the next patron’s groceries. And he thinks, while he fidgets with his wallet, how retarded he must look and sound as the word “Thanks” tumbles out of his mouth. Like the feeling of hot coffee across his tongue, it escapes from the corners of his lips and he shakes his head at the bitterness that creeps at the back of his mind. He doesn’t make eye contact with the clerk, holds his hand out for change and the receipt and he feels the back of fingernails briefly scratch across his palm as the dirty money drops into it and he clenches his fist. Tight. So tight and his lips draw down in a frown and he nods with his head held between his shoulders as he scurries like a rat out of the grocery store.

Erwin returns home and Levi still has his hand running under water and he’s still thinking of how retarded he must have sounded and why the words will never come easy. Why his head feels so foggy and slow and he doesn’t even notice Erwin is home until he feels the hand on his back. Erwin reaches over and turns the water off, holds Levi’s hand in his, hot and pink and clammy. Levi doesn’t look up at him–he must look so stupid. So fucking stupid. And his head swims like it’s in water and he wants to turn the faucet back on but he doesn’t even have the strength for that. When did he get so weak? So fucking weak and tired and the words are so hard to say and think, like he needs to rewrite the dictionary every time he tries to open his mouth.

Erwin gets out a dish towel and holds Levi’s hand between it, squeezes it between both of his and then brings it down and up his arm to dry it completely. He sets the towel at the edge of the sink, moves to the stove and the click, click, click of the stove repeats in Levi’s head. Click click. Click click. Erwin guides him to the opposite side of the counter, sits him at the stool and runs a gentle hand through his hair. In a few minutes there’s tea steeping in front of him, the calming scent of spices wafting through the room. He stretches the waterlogged hand and carefully brings it to the rim of the tea cup.

Erwin places a hand on Levi’s shoulder, and Levi looks up at him, but it’s easier to focus now, or maybe it’s just easier to focus around Erwin. His lips part slightly, Erwin shakes his head, and Levi puts the tea cup back down. It’s hot and the steam had caused his palm to sweat. He slumps in his seat, puts his forearms on the counter and sighs deep.

There’s words somewhere. But he doesn’t need them here. Erwin is patient, Erwin understands him, and they don’t need words if Levi isn’t ready to speak them. Even if he can never remember how to speak again, Erwin knows how to speak to him–soft lips pressed to his forehead saying all that needs to be said.

A Dangerous Game Ch3

Warnings: kidnapping, drug mention

Summary This Chapter: Logan, a tattoo artist, is dragged back into a life he thought he left behind.


After the last client of the day is gone, Logan takes a long deep breath. He loves to tattoo. It’s his passion and everyone leaves his shop with the biggest smiles on their faces, but it’s exhausting to get nothing more than a ten minute break every couple of hours. Add that to his fame for being a skilled tattoo artist, and he leads a busy life. The media only stopped harassing him because his life is empty. There are no friends, no girlfriends or boyfriends, no family. He lives alone in his big house with a pool, a gaming room, an exercise room, and more bedrooms than he knows what to do with. The house is too big for him, but he has nothing else to do with his exorbitant amount of money, and he doesn’t want to be recognized for his monthly donations to a variety of charities.

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Dog Days

Author: bellustyles

Summary: An AU where Louis is a terrible dog walker in need of extra cash for a lads trip coming up in three weeks. Liam’s dog is huge, Niall’s dog is the slowest walker ever, and Fionn’s dog shits on Louis’ shoe. Harry is a common visitor to the Dog Park being a dog lover himself, and plays tug-o-war with the dogs. Harry notices a new comer come into the Dog Park who sits on a worn down bench and mumbles curse words under his breath as he tries to untangle dog leashes from one another with drying dog shit on his shoe.

Main Pairing: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Word Count: 2.3K

Somewhere on a Beach

Pairing: JayTm

Summary: 

“How did you two find the island?”

“It wasn’t hard,” Tim dismissed. “You three haven’t exactly been quiet about your adventures. At least, not to someone who was looking.”

“And you were looking?”

Notes: For the JayTim week prompt “Sunburn.”

I love the idea of Kori, Roy, and Jason just hanging out on the island that Kori is on at the beginning of RHATO. Their own slice of paradise to shield them (at least a little bit) from the rest of the world. Using that for the later island vacation prompt would have been really easy, but I wanted to do this.

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3

“What I find interesting, deputy, is that you have all this to say about magic, and yet you still leave your daughter with me every afternoon without fail.” Stiles drummed his fingers on the counter. “My only conclusion is that even if you hate magic, you must trust me on some level.”

Derek cleared his throat and looked away. “Amy likes Jack. And my boss gave you a good recommendation, for some unfathomable reason.”

“Your boss is my father. Of course he’s going to give me a good recommendation.” Stiles pulled out little pouches of powder and poured them into a set of a dozen vials sitting out on the counter. “So come on, Hale. What is it? Is it the magic you hate, or me?”

Both. I hate magic, and I hate what you’re doing to me. Derek realized his fists were clenched, and he shoved them into the pockets of his uniform. He couldn’t admit any of that to Stiles, though, not without admitting to…other things. Things he wasn’t acknowledging now or ever.

A Wild Heart’s Desire by @mad-madam-m