Jack’s breath evens out sometime between the second and third act of the movie, and Robby tries to stay as still as he can until the end credits start rolling; his leg went numb at least fifteen minutes ago, pinned in place by the weight of Jack’s head—the base of his curls glint burnished bronze in the diffused glow of the lamplight, rich warmth hidden underneath solid streaks of grey, and Robby’s fingers twitch with the urge to sink deep into the strands, but he doesn’t dare.
His heart thumps like a kickdrum in his chest, heavy reverberating pulses that pound up against each and every rib; he doesn’t know why he feels so nervous—because there’s no other word to describe the tightness in his throat, or the way he feels like a balloon that’s about to burst. Jack had mentioned he’d been having trouble falling asleep lately, and Robby knew it had to be worse than he wanted to let on if it was bad enough that he brought it up and all, so Robby doesn’t want to risk stirring him from even the briefest snapshot of stolen rest.
Jack lets out a muffled noise, softly grumbling in his sleep, and then he turns over, curling closer without seeming to wake. Robby sighs in relief as long dark lashes stay fanned out over the top of freckled cheeks, and he wrings his hand in the throw blanket that’s draped over the back of the couch, twisting the tassels between his fingers in lieu of what he wishes he could touch instead.
"So how long are we going to let this go on, before someone tells him he's no good at this?" Hen mutters around the tiniest nibble of her cupcake.
She's looking at Eddie, but he's so busy licking salted caramel frosting off his fingers that it takes him a minute to process what she said.
"Huh?" he asks, because yeah, maybe there was a little too much salt in the frosting, and maybe the cake itself wasn't as fluffy as it should have been, but Eddie wouldn't say it was bad.
"Can you at least distract him so I can toss mine?" Chimney says out of the side of his mouth, already passing behind Eddie on the way to the trash can.
"Yeah, I can, uh, sure," Eddie says, but he snags another cupcake on the way, because no, it's not perfect, but he knows how hard Buck worked on them, knows what he looks like in his flour-smeared apron with a little furrow of concentration in his brow, knows how many bake sales Buck's helped with and late night snacks he's treated them to, and to him, all of it—every crumbly cookie and dense scone and runny pie, and yes, even this weird cupcake—tastes like love.
okay so, this was... surprising and I am manifesting this outcome.
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader
Warnings: SPOILERS FOR TLOU S2, amnesia, angst, little fluff?
“I don’t remember too much after last year,” Joel said, sitting on the bench next to you, the house he had build for you behind you on the hill as you overlooked almost all of Jackson.
"But I do remember that you're important, you gotta be, I dream about you almost every night," he said and you looked up at him, a scar running up the side of his face, and you were itching to run your fingers above it, reminding yourself that he was here, that he was save, alive.
You never thought you would get to see him, let alone talk to him again after what had happened the year before at the ski lodge, what had been done to him. That he couldn't remember you? Nothing compared to the alternative of never being able to see him again.
He reached for your hand, his finger absently rubbing over the golden band on your left ring finger that was engraved with his name.
"Will you tell me about us again?" he asked and you smiled softly, allowing yourself to lean your head against his shoulder as you began to tell him about the day he had saved your life, about the day you fell in love with him.
“It’s cold today pup.” Mark remarked as they headed to the Mclaren Technology Centre together.
“Daddy you’re boring kitten…” Oscar said, “Um if you’re just going to keep complaining instead of helping me win championships then you’re fired.”
“Pup, you can’t do this. What about us?”
“You’re not the only dilf in my brigade.” Oscar said harshly, leaving Mark stuck outside of the MTC to powerlessly watch him greet another dilf through the glass walls.
"all this to prove a point?" for the writing prompt
emily prentiss x reader
no warnings. no use of y/n or pronouns for reader.
sentence fic prompt
You rub your hands together, trying your best to generate some heat in your body. Emily’s car, while lovely, did not provide the warmth of an suv on a usual stakeout and you were seriously regretting your inability to tell this woman no.
“All this to prove a point?” You mumble, the humour fading from your tone the longer you sit in the cold car, the September air biting away at your fingers and toes.
Emily sits with her camera pointed at Morgan’s apartment, a determined glint in her eye. “Better personal life than me, my ass. He came straight home and hasn’t left the building since!”
You roll your eyes, wishing desperately you were home, “Yeah but he’s also not wasting his evening stalking his friend.”
Emily lowers the camera and turns to face you, brows drawn together. “He can’t make accusations like that and not expect me to find proof.”
“Well maybe if you focused a little bit more on yourself and a little less on him then you wouldn’t need to prove it and you’d have a private life he couldn’t argue with.”
She scoffs, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Always so clueless.
You shake your head, annoyed, embarrassed, and frustrated by the woman in front of you. “I’m right here.”
Emily’s frown only deepens and you blow out a breath, “I invited you out for dinner tonight and instead we’re stalking Morgan and have completely missed our reservations. Every time I try to move us forward you find a way to shut it down.”
“Reservations? I thought you wanted to get take-out and head back to one of ours, like usual.” She says with genuine confusion.
“No, I booked that nice Indian place you like.”
“Oh,” She responds, dropping the camera firmly in her lap.
“Look,” you sigh, “I just need to know, okay? Because maybe I’m just failing to get the hint and you’re really not interested but I thought we were going somewhere. I like you Emily.”
“You like me? Tonight was supposed to be a date and instead I blew you off and made us sit and stake out Morgan.” She says slowly, words strangled.
“Yes.”
“Fucking hell.” She blows out a breath. The car is silent for a moment as she comes to terms with the news and then her gaze focuses back on you. “I’m so sorry. I will make this up to you. I’m taking you for the best date night starting right now.”
Your eyes widen, “Wait so that’s a-?”
She smiles, wide and happy, “Yes, idiot, I like you too. God, why else would I ask you to sit here with me?”
You can’t help but smile too. Head in the clouds as Emily puts the camera away and the keys back in the ignition.
“Ready to go?” She asks, a playful smirk on her lips that your eyes linger on.
“There’s just one thing first.” Because you can’t wait a moment longer. You’ve waited years.
You lean over the centre console, hand cupping her cheek and pulling her towards you to meet you in the middle. Emily’s eyes darken instantly, her gaze dropping to your lips before they fall close and her lips softly meet yours.
Your body hums, alive as your lips move tenderly against hers. A gentle whine escapes your lips and your body heats up as you regretfully pull away.
“Mmmhmm,” Emily hums, lips well kissed and eyes dark. “We can definitely do that again.”
“Food?” You ask, voice strangled. Avoiding the knowing look in her eyes, suddenly shy.
The medical bay was warm compared to the outer hallways, almost cozy, and Anakin's muscles involuntarily began to relax, slowing his stride to something more like a trudge, as he made his way through the small maze of cots where injured troopers waited for treatment. Rex's blond hair, streaked with blood, stood out like a beacon, drawing Anakin in, and he did not hesitate to drop down beside his woozy-looking captain.
"Sir?" Rex mumbled, squinting from underneath the bandage across his brow, and Anakin's heart squeezed in his chest at the gentle concern that radiated from even that single word.
"I'm... fine," Anakin sighed, slumping forward to rest his elbows on his knees, relaxing further as a hand came to rest on his shoulder, hesitant at first, then firm and protective. "I'm fine... now," before the grey floor and the murmur of voices and Rex calling his name all shriveled up into nothing, and the world went dark.
