then i'll have dinner and watch tv and then go to bed

First date.

Just a small and short lame fic/drabble as a birthday present hah. I am sorry it’s not yohamaru or kananyou bc the only ship we have in common is diamari, so I hope you’ll still like it.
Happy birthday @sheamky​!! I hope you had a great day and that you enjoyed it! Wish u all the happiness in the world, I know there are people bringing a lot of it already and I couldn’t ask for better. I’m sorry for the ‘lack of conversation’, but guess it can’t be helped, I suck as a friend. But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten your birthday.

Pls, enjoy.


“No.”

It’s impossible.
It has to be impossible. It has to.

“No, no, no …”

“Dia …”

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anonymous asked:

Not sure if you're still doing the quote prompts but pynch for "oh shit, are you bleeding?!" And "oh fuck, oh FUCK!"

in which adam gets a tattoo

When Adam arrives at the Barns, dusk covers all that his eyes can see. He parks the Hondoyota in the gravel drive, wincing as he stretches his left arm to flick off the car lights. He pauses to tug his shirtsleeve down before getting out of the car.

Ronan expected him back earlier, but he isn’t inside the house as Adam thought he might’ve been. His search brings him back outside, through the orchards and spattering of barns. He finds Ronan behind one of the empty barns back aways, mending a fence. Or examining his finished work, rather. Ronan pushes down on a post, testing its strength, and nods to himself, satisfied. Then he takes a step to the side for the next one, and does the same. He does this a few times more before tossing some tools back into the toolbox. Then–Adam’s breath catches–he strips his tank off and swipes it over his face and neck, shoulder muscles shifting nicely with the movement.

Adam’s so busy admiring he almost doesn’t notice Ronan’s gaze on him. By the time he does, there’s no denying his ogling, so he smirks and shrugs instead. Ronan, prone to staring himself, doesn’t seem bothered. If anything, the flush in his cheeks deepen.

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More of the Kit Purrson fic, rewrite and continuation of the bit with Grump, containing the bits I posted earlier today; this is the “hockey shit” before Kent gets back to Vegas and consults Twitter about cat aggression.  Contains Martha from Manitoba, Kent’s #1 fan, and Screwy Lewy (they call him that on ESPN), who owns the Aces.  (Also: author’s note speculating on Kent’s childhood trauma)

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