#peppermintquartz

[kinardnatural]

5 sentences for BT

Line: "Do you truly believe you don't deserve to be happy?"

I technically did write five sentences and just added some more 🤭

SEND ME A SHIP AND A SENTENCE, I'LL WRITE FIVE MORE

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"Do you truly believe you don't deserve to be happy?" Buck's voice is quiet when he asks, and he can only see Tommy's back facing him as the other has turned away in the middle of the conversation, probably regretting letting that part slip. The thing Buck have suspected for so long.

It all adds up. Him walking out from the loft. Him stating that he's afraid to get his heart broken. His insecurities about the competition that is non-existent in Buck's eyes. And then there's this moment right here, right now. They're not back to dating, but they're getting there. Slowly and gradually, they're building their way towards something Buck hopes to remain permanent this time. They've been hanging out pretty much all day, starting the day off by going to the farmer's market, going on a hike, and going to Buck’s place where they cooked some dinner together and enjoyed it with a movie. It had been great. Amazing, even, one of the best days in Buck's life, because Tommy's smile had been constant on his handsome face, and it was a beautiful sight. "Today's been so much fun," he had told his ex at some point during the movie, and Tommy had smiled and hummed in agreement. So Buck had felt bold. Gathered the courage to ask the question. "This is real, right? This isn't just us hanging out as friends?" And he had waited with baited breath and felt Tommy tense up where he had been sitting pressed against him.

"It's always been real to me, Evan," he had eventually said, but his posture had changed into something far less relaxed and a little bit more anxious.

"Why do I feel a but coming?"

"But it's a lot of things."

"Such as?"

Tommy has hesitated, and Buck had reached out a hand to touch his reassuringly and had received an affectionate squeeze of his fingers in return.

"I don't think I deserve you." That's when he had let his hand slip away from Buck's grip and turned away from him and Buck had put the little pieces together and asked whether he truly believed he didn't deserve to be happy.

"I know I don't deserve to be happy."

It was devastating to hear, and it also pissed Buck of a little. Just imagining that someone must have made Tommy believe such a thing about himself was horrific.

"Well, I don't believe that's true," he tells Tommy, and the man scoffs at him.

"Evan--"

"Of all the people I know, that I've been surrounded with these past few years, I can't think of anyone more deserving of happiness," he continues. "J-just look at me. I avoided to get in contact with you over a year. You have every reason to hate me for that, a-and the moment I finally called you, you still dropped everything t-to get a coffee with me."

"I could never hate you, Evan. That's not even a possibility, no matter how things are between us." Tommy is looking at him again, looking absolutely devastated and offended over the very idea of even hating him. It makes Buck smile a little.

"Anyone else would hate me," he states, and Tommy huffs out a laugh.

"Anyone else is an idiot."

God, Buck wants to kiss him so badly.

"Do I make you happy?" He then asks, and Tommy’s gaze soften.

"Incredibly."

He brings Buck's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. It's not the end of the conversation, but it's a start of something old and something new and something permanent.

[unfuckablebogtroll]

Drunk Vegas wedding the morning after:

Buck, waking up, face smushed against pillow, hand going over a bare shoulder and then onto a firm (?) chest (??) and he's blinking open his eyes and he's looking at the beauty of a completely asleep Tommy Kinard: snoring lightly, mouth open, drooling a little, hair mussed beyond hope, and then Buck shifts his thigh and whoops so that hard thing down there is new(?) for him to wake up to when it's not his own (but it is also familiar because they definitely got acquainted last night)

Tommy wakes up at the touch and squints and smiles in that crinkly way and Buck thinks his heart just stuttered several times, and then Tommy rakes through his hair and Buck sees the ring and says out loud "oh shit did I have sex with a married man?"

Tommy, who's mostly come back online, is like ??? And then he sees the ring on Buck's hand (still groping his pec) and be all "I think we both did"

And that's how Buck remembers the drunk wedding

Buck is horrified to realize he barely remembers getting married, and even more horrified to realize he barely remembers his first time with a dude, and insists on having his memory refreshed immediately 🥰

[mintedwitcher]

The MCU Steve in Endgame is not real Steve because Real Steve would go back in time only if he can destroy Hydra and rescue Bucky. Also it's disrespectful as fuck for him to ruin Peggy's life that she built with her new guy. That's all I'm saying.

you're right and you should say it again, louder.

[nilefreemans]

Ship: BT or Henren

Line:

If there were awards for awkward silences, this would rank among the top three for the category Most Loaded Yet Uncomfortable Pause in a Conversation.

Your turn!

Send me a ship and a sentence, I’ll write the next five

Tommy doesn't even know how to begin to explain what Buck and Hen had walked into, and he probably wouldn't have been able to explain if he tried. "Why is there, a horse?" Hen asks carefully, eyeing the creature as if it could explain anything. "And the feathers?" Buck asks, eyes wide as he looks at every corner of their garage. "School fair." Tommy and Karen reply simultaneously.

[aringofsalt]

Your hometown only had 6000 people?

around that! i checked the demographics just now to refresh my memory, it was actually a little bit bigger when i was growing up, around 7500. but now it's around 6500!

[monstertrucksactually]

Thank you @peppermintquartz!!!!!! Oh I love this prompt 💖

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, but in what universe had he ever gotten exactly what he wanted?

He should have known better. Should’ve realized he was doomed from the start for choosing the linen, off white and gauzy, meant to keep him cool in the stifling summer heat. It clings to his skin, held in place by his own warm, sticky blood.

If he makes it through this, he can think of another five or so similarly colored shirts that should be purged from his closet. Just in case.

And that’s a good thing, right? That he can recall the contents of his closet. The colors, patterns, and textures all neatly arranged. Except for one.

He huffs a shallow laugh only to make himself cough. Oh, and gurgle. That’s not good.

His brain pushes the thought away, compensating for his failing body by focusing on the hideous teal tropical shirt hanging in the center of the metal rod. A blast of color situated between the brownish orange plaid and a forest green tee.

He always hated that thing, with its loud palette and gaudy flowers. But Tommy loved it, thought it was perfect for every occasion—barbecues with the 118 and Harbor, the beach, working in the garage. Getting the mail.

It was all of these ordinary, mundane memories that were at the core of why he could never admit to knowing exactly where it was. He could have given it back and simply bought another. But it wouldn’t have been the same. Nothing’s been the same.

Tonight was supposed to be different though. A fresh start, another try. A chance at something real. Something he hoped could eventually take the shape of forever.

“I found him!”

“Jacobs! Donato! Get your asses over here!”

“Evan? Hey, Evan. Baby, wake up. Stay with me, okay?”

Tommy’s hand is hot against his cheek. Or maybe it’s just that Buck’s gotten so cold.

“Stay with me, just a little longer.”

He thinks he says something meaningful. Okay or I’ll try. Another gurgle bubbles up alongside it.

No matter what happens Tommy’s got him, that’s the important part. In a twisted, fucked up way they made it back to each other in time.

His field of vision narrows further, until his view is Tommy, Tommy, Tommy. And if that’s the last face he sees, the last voice he hears, the last featherlight touch on his skin, well, maybe ‘not exactly the way he wanted’ isn’t the worst thing.

send me a ship + a sentence

[trilliath]

Word in WIP: thrill (or derivatives of)

Turns out I use the word "thrill" almost exclusively in the porniest scenes lmao but I finally found one that wasn't just outright smut.

Here's a bit from the sequel to Coloring Outside the Lines. This section follows on pretty immediately after this snippet too

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"It's… new," Tommy says. New enough that he's not even sure it's reasonable to consider there to be any expectation of exclusivity or a relationship in any traditional sense. Tommy's well aware that in all likelihood Evan's in it for the thrill of dating an older man, that he's enjoying the moment but as soon as the novelty wears off he'll be moving on from this particular adventure.

But there's a chance, however slight, that this isn't going to be a flash in the pan but maybe a true romantic fling, something that will last long enough to earn a worthy footnote in Evan's life story - and it turns out he's not willing to risk losing that before he's had a chance to find out.

"Okay you have got to give us more than that," Lopez groans.

"I don't," he replies evenly.

Donato though cocks a sculpted eyebrow at him and says, "Nah I'm with Ramon. Give us the deets. You haven't mentioned dating anyone the whole time you've been here."

"We were starting to think you'd decided to only fly solo," Watford says with a crude gesture that has Myers cackling.

Well. He had, actually, more or less, though he doesn't feel the need to mention that.

"Which would be okay - asexuality is a thing," Lopez hurries to say benevolently, and Donato snorts rudely and mutters, "Trust me, that's not applicable here."

He glares at her because some things need to stay where they left them at the worst gay club in west hollywood with too much tequila and the manic need to prove they were alive after a really fucking dumb near miss with death courtesy of their erstwhile Captain at the 147 fifteen years ago.

Donato just shrugs at him, unrepentant and expectant.

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Send me a word and I'll post a snippet of a WIP with that word, or write you 3 new sentences if it's not in there :3

[setmeatopthepyre]

Word prompt: awkward

let's pretend this ask isn't super duper old. shhh. let's all look at this bit of knight au / sweetmeats au / what can ail thee, knight-at-arms? instead. part of this bath scene.

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It is the bath maid who attended to him who comes to find him. He regrets not asking her name, had not expected to be in her vicinity as long as he has. It seems unchivalrous not to have asked – less chivalrous still to draw attention to that shortcoming now.

“Sir Knight,” she addresses him, and he watches query appear behind her clever eyes before she can say whatever it is she came to say. “What lord do you serve?”

He straightens, then allows his shoulders to sag back into less-than-military rigor. “None, good lady. I am no knight.”

“Ah.” She regards him a moment longer, then seems to decide it is none of her business. “My mistake, then. Apologies.”

“None necessary,” he assures her. “Is something the matter?”

She tosses a glance over her shoulder to where the other girls stand sharing some sort of gossip between them. Their whispers are unintelligible but they are clearly amused. “Well – yes. I was hoping to ask a favor, if it is not too much of an imposition.”

Tommy feels his eyebrows raise, unbidden. “That would depend on the favor, I imagine.”

“Of course,” she smirks. “You see, it is just – the girls are having some… trouble, with your companion, you see.”

“Trouble?” he repeats, rising to his feet. Surely Evan is not the type to cause trouble at a bath house, or Tommy had sorely misjudged him. Then again, how well does he know the young knight, really?

The maid makes a placating gesture. “Nothing serious, mind you. It is just, he– Well. Perhaps you should come see for yourself.”

Confounded, Tommy follows her past the giggling maids, through the door and into the side chamber opposite the one he had been whisked away to earlier. Inside, the steam has long since dissipated, though the air still smells sweet. There is none of the drunken debauchery he had feared to find, only Evan – very much undressed in the wooden tub, head tilted back, gently snoring.

Tommy allows himself a moment to take in the scene, though he keeps his gaze firmly above the waterline, wary of his audience. “Why do you not just wake him?”

She shifts awkwardly then. “There has been some, ah, trouble with men startling awake before,” she says, hesitancy creeping into her voice for the first time. “Especially with strong men such as yourself and your, ah, friend? I am sure you understand.”

He does, and for a moment there is a fury that bubbles up in his chest at the– the injustice of it. A desire to help, to fix, in a way that had once inspired him to pick up the sword in the first place. The one that had kept him in service of the undeserving for far too long.

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I forgor if people wanted to be tagged for this fic so hmu if you want on the potential tag list