Tybalt and Mercutio were childhood friends, of a sort.
Evening is the customary time for intercourse, David has helpfully informed her, but it makes no difference here. Nothing makes any difference.
Accountant AU! Frank is an accountant, Gerard is an artist. Romcom ensues
Prompt: "swimming in the buff". Carcer watches with ill intent.
Luo Binghe looks at Shen Qingqiu’s face carefully for any sign of recognition but finds none. Instead, Shen Qingqiu looks impressed, like he can’t imagine it. Luo Binghe preens at impressing Shen Qingqiu and he chooses to take this as a win in the series of battles in the war to make Shen Qingqiu remember. Luo Binghe just hopes that the battles will eventually come to an end.
After everyone but himself and Jyn died on Scarif, Bodhi did his best to hide from anything resembling excitement. Unfortunately, the Force - and the New Republic - had other plans.
Old (2012-ish!) fanart of Anders Dragonage from my fic Rabbit Heart. Technically unfinished… just like the fic!
“Why do you wear your face like that?”
Nie Huaisang's hand comes up partway to Meng Yao's face before his fingers curl inwards. Meng Yao's eyes go wide and tremulous before the corners of his mouth curl into a small smile, like one of the soundless laughs shared between them in the midst of a banquet speech.
Jin Guangyao starts playing the song of torment much earlier and triggers an unexpected reaction.
Jin Guangyao nods, face a picture of concern. “Forgive me, but I have no idea what this nature is that you speak of?”
Nie Huaisang grimaces. “Normally this is one of the most funny things about being a Nie,” he says, seriously. “But with this severity,” he starts trailing off. “Every five or so years we have this overwhelming biological urge to …
Jin Guangyao starts playing the song of torment much earlier and triggers an unexpected reaction.
Jin Guangyao nods, face a picture of concern. “Forgive me, but I have no idea what this nature is that you speak of?”
Nie Huaisang grimaces. “Normally this is one of the most funny things about being a Nie,” he says, seriously. “But with this severity,” he starts trailing off. “Every five or so years we have this overwhelming biological urge to um,” he says then pauses. “We need to have sex. Usually it’s mild enough that each of us gets to spend a weekend locked in our rooms alone taking care of it, no problem. If you’re married it's even better I assume, but it’s never deadly.”
“It was deadly in the past, it has been lessened over time, but it seems Nie zongzhu is experiencing the full force of it.”
On Bazzard's first Christmas in London, the thorn of anxiety is keenly felt, and then drawn out a little.