and by enjoy i mean weep and laugh at the same time

"I love you too, by the way"

1k, Belle and Adam One-Shot, ff.net
A one-shot of the scene (and conversation) that must have occurred between the kiss and the reunion with the servants. Set after the 2017 film, but it really applies to the original also.

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Doubt it | Taehyung, You

Based on song - ‘Breath’ by Lauv, please read the lyrics or listen to the song before/while reading this!

Warning: Like over the top angst

I should leave, ‘cause you deserve better, better

You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, causing him to smile. “What’s up?” he asked, rocking you from side to side.

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Rain (Thomas x Reader)

AN: Another late fic of questionable quality!

Tag Crew: @huffleheyguys @artisticgamer @theoverlordofeverything @hmltntrsh51 @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit2 @hamilton4starwars @megabooklover18 @jantales

Request: Anonymous- 11, can’t help but think of Jefferson XD

11. “I love you.”  “You have excellent taste.”

Warnings: gets a lil sexy 

Word Count: 1,305

Masterlist

The fire was crackling, indie music was playing softly, you had a mug of earl grey tea, and you had a collection of classic poetry that you’d read at least a thousand times spread open across your lap- the best way to enjoy rain. It had started storming around three in the morning and you’d been up since then.

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VICTIMS OF FREE-MIXING
Umm Muhammad, a mature woman over the age of 40, tells her story.

I lived a life of modest means with my husband. There was never any closeness and harmony, and my husband did not have the kind of strong personality that a woman would hope for, but his good nature made me overlook the fact that I was the one who was responsible for most of the decision making in the family.

My husband often used to mention the name of his friend and business partner, and he would talk about him in my presence, and I often used to meet with him in his office which was originally part of our apartment. This went on for many years, until circumstances led to us exchanging visits with this person and his family. These family visits were repeated and because of his close friendship with my husband, we did not notice how the number of visits increased and how many hours a single visit would last. He often used to come on his own to sit with us, me and my husband, for long visits. My husband’s trust in him knew no bounds, and as days passed I got to know this person very well, and saw how wonderful and decent he was. I began to feel a strong attraction towards this man, and at the same time I began to sense that the feeling was mutual.

Things took a strange turn after that, when I realized that this man was the kind of person I had always dreamed about. Why had he come along now, after all these years? The more this man’s status increased in my eyes, the more my husband’s status diminished. It was as if I had needed to see the beauty of his character in order to discover how ugly my husband’s character was.

The matter between this person and myself did not go beyond these persistent thoughts which were occupying my mind night and day. Neither he nor I ever voiced what we felt in our hearts… until today. Yet despite that my life is over and my husband is little more than a weak man with no self-esteem. I hate him and I do not know how all this hatred towards him started to boil over. I wonder how I put up with him all these years, bearing all these burdens by myself, facing life’s problems on my own.

Things got so bad that I asked him for a divorce, and he divorced me at my request. After that he became a broken man. Even worse than that is that after my marriage was wrecked and my children and husband were devastated, problems arose in this man’s family. His wife, with her feminine intuition, realized what had been going on in his heart of hearts, and his life became hell. She was overwhelmed with jealousy to the extent that one night she left her house at 2 a.m. and came to attack my house, screaming, weeping and hurling accusations. His marriage was also about to collapse.

I admit that the lovely gatherings which we used to enjoy gave us the opportunity to get to know one another at a time that was not appropriate at this stage in our lives.

His marriage has been wrecked and so has mine. I have lost everything, and now I know that my circumstances and his will not permit us to take any positive step towards coming together. Now I am more miserable than I have ever been, and I am looking for illusionary happiness and lost hopes.

Tit-for-tat

Umm Ahmad tells us:

My husband had a group of married friends, and because of our close friendship with them, we used to get together with them once a week in one of our houses, to enjoy an evening of chat.

Deep down in my heart I was never really comfortable with the atmosphere in which we would have dinner, sweets, snacks and drinks of juice accompanied by waves of laughter because of the jokes and chit-chats that often went beyond the bounds of good manners.

In the name of friendship, the barriers were lifted and every now and then one would hear suppressed laughter between a woman and the husband of another woman. The jokes were too much, dealing – with no sense of shyness –with sensitive topics such as sex and women’s private matters. This was usual and was even accepted and regarded as desirable.

Although I indulged in these things along with them, my conscience made me feel guilty. Then the day came when it became quite clear just how ugly and filthy this atmosphere was.

The telephone rang, and I heard the voice of one of the friends in this group. I said hello to him and apologized that my husband was not home. He replied that he knew that, and that he was calling to speak to me! After he suggested starting a relationship with me, I got very angry and spoke harshly to him and cursed him. All he could do was laugh and say, “Don’t try and show these good manners to me; go and check on your husband’s good manners and see what he is doing…” I was devastated by what he said, but I pulled myself together and said to myself, this person is only trying to cause the break up of your marriage. But he succeeded in planting the seeds of doubt concerning my husband.

Shortly after that, the major disaster struck. I discovered that my husband was cheating on me with another woman. It was the matter of life or death as far as I was concerned. I found my husband out and I confronted him, saying: “You are not the only one who can have a relationship. I have received a similar proposition.” And I told him all about his friend. He was stunned and absolutely shocked. (I said:) “If you want me to respond in kind to your relationship with that woman, then this is for that, tit-for-tat.” This was a huge slap in the face for him. He knew that I did not intend to do that in reality, but he realized the great disaster that had befallen our lives and the immoral atmosphere in which we were living. I suffered a great deal until my husband finally left that loose woman with whom he was having a relationship, as he admitted to me. Yes, he left her and came back to his family and children, but how can I ever feel the same towards him as I used to? Who will restore respect for him in my heart? This huge wound in my heart is still bleeding out of regret and rage at that filthy atmosphere; it still bears testimony to the fact that what they call innocent get-togethers are in reality anything but innocent. My heart still begs for mercy from the Lord of Glory.

Intelligence can also be a temptation (fitnah)

‘Abd al-Fattaah says:

I work as the head of department in one of the big companies. For a long time I admired one of my female colleagues, not for her beauty, but for her serious attitude towards her work, her intelligence and her excellent achievements – in addition to the fact that she was a decent and modest person who focused only on her work. This admiration turned into attachment, and I am a married man who fears Allaah and never misses any obligatory prayer. I expressed my feelings to her and she rebuffed me. She is married and has children as well. She sees no reason why I should have any kind of relationship with her, whether it be friendship, as work colleagues or based on admiration… etc. Evil thoughts come to me sometimes, and deep down I wish that her husband would divorce her so that I could get her.

I started to put pressure on her at work and put her down in front of my bosses. Perhaps this was a form of revenge on my part, but she accepted it with good manners and did not complain or comment. She works and works; her performance speaks of her quality, and she knows this well. The more she resisted me, the stronger my infatuation grew.

I am not a person who is easily tempted by women, because I fear Allaah and I do not overstep the mark with them and go beyond what is required by my work. But this woman attracted me. What is the solution?… I do not know.

Baby ducks know how to swim

N.A.A., a nineteen-year-old girl, tells us:

At that time I was a little girl. My innocent eyes watched those evening get-togethers when family friends would meet in the house. What I remember is that I could only see one man, who was my father. I watched him as he moved about the room, how his glances would devour the women present, looking at their thighs and chests, admiring this one’s eyes, that one’s hair, the other’s hips. My poor mother had no choice but to take care of these get-togethers. She was a very simple lady.

Among the women present there was one woman who would deliberately try to attract my father’s attention, sometimes by coming close to him, and sometimes by making enticing movements. I would watch this with concern, whilst my mother was busy in the kitchen for the sake of her guests.

These gatherings stopped suddenly and I tried, young as I was, to understand and make sense of what had happened, but I could not.

What I remember was that my mother collapsed completely at that time, and she could not stand to hear my father’s name mentioned in the house. I used to hear mysterious words whispered by the adults around me: “Betrayal… bedroom… she saw them with her own eyes… despicable woman… in a very shameful position…” etc. These were the key words which only the adults could understand.

I grew up and came to understand, and I bore a grudge against all men. All of them were treacherous. My mother was a broken woman and accused every woman who came to us of being a man-snatcher who wanted to make my father fall into her trap. My father hasn’t changed. He is still practising his favourite hobby of chasing women, but now he does it outside the home. Now I am nineteen years old and I know lots of young men. I feel great pleasure in taking revenge on them, because every one of them is an exact copy of my father. I tempt them and entice them, without letting them get anywhere near me. They follow me in gatherings and in the marketplaces because of my movements and deliberate gestures. Sometimes my phone never stops ringing and I feel proud of what I do to avenge the sex of Hawwa’ and my mother. But sometimes I feel so miserable and such a failure that it almost chokes me. My life is shadowed by a huge dark cloud, and its name is my father.

Before it is too late

S.N.A. tells of her experience:

I never imagined that my work circumstances would force me to be in contact with the opposite sex (men), but this in fact is what happened…

In the beginning, I used to cover and screen myself from men by wearing niqaab (face-veil), but some of the sisters advised me that this dress was attracting more attention to my presence, and it would be better for me to take off the niqaab, especially since my eyes were somewhat attractive. So I removed the cover from my face, thinking that this was better. But by continuing to mix with my colleagues, I discovered that I was the odd one out because of my antisocial attitude and my insistence on not joining in the conversation and chatting with others. Everyone was wary of this “lone-wolf” woman (as they saw me), and this is what was stated clearly by one person who affirmed that he would not want to deal with such a snooty and stand-offish character. But I knew that I was the opposite, in fact, and I decided that I would not oppress myself and put myself in a difficult position with my colleagues. So I started to join in their chats and exchanges of anecdotes, and they all discovered that I could speak eloquently and persuasively, and that I could influence others. I could also speak in a manner that was determined yet at the same time was attractive to some of my colleagues. It was not long before I noticed some changes in the expression of my direct supervisor; with some embarrassment, he was enjoying the way I spoke and moved, and he would deliberately bring up topics in the conversation where I would see that hateful look in his eyes. I do not deny the fact that I started to entertain some thoughts about this man. I found it astonishing that a man could fall so easily into the trap of a woman who was religiously committed, so how must it be in the case of women who adorn themselves and invite men to commit immoral actions? In fact, I did not think of him in any way which went beyond the bounds of sharee’ah, but he did occupy a space in my thoughts for quite some time. But soon my self-respect made me reject the idea of being a source of enjoyment for this man in any way, shape or form, even if it was only psychological in nature, and I stopped getting involved in any kind of work that would force me to sit alone with him. In the end, I reached the following conclusions:

1- 1) Attraction between the sexes can occur in any circumstances, no matter how much men and women may deny that. The attraction may start within the bounds of sharee’ah and end up going beyond those bounds.

2) Even if a person protects himself (by marriage), he is not safe from the snares of the Shaytaan.

3) Even though a person may be able to guarantee himself and he works with the opposite sex within reasonable limits, he cannot guarantee the feelings of the other party.

4) Finally, there is nothing good in mixing and it does not bear fruit as they claim. On the contrary, it corrupts sound thinking.

Cheers! (I’ll Drink to That)

This is my first time writing a headcanon! I came up with this one while chatting with @themissimmortal last night about how the Chocobros + Cor, Ravus, Luna and Aranea would be if drunk out of their minds. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don’t own FFXV or any of the cultural references I used. I don’t own the concept of Leonhart either. (Ask Moosh about it! You won’t regret a thing ^^)

Tagging a few people who I think might like this: @ohgodsnowwhat @itshaejinju @blindbae @stunninglyignis @crown-city-moogle


Noctis: The Happy Drunk

- If you looked up the definition of ‘happy drunk’ in any urban dictionary, you’d see a picture of the normally sulky prince.

- He becomes a ball of sunshine rivaling a sober Prompto, a huge grin plastered on his face even when being chewed out by drunk Ignis or smothered by drunk Gladio.

- This guy will laugh at anything and everything. Hears a sneeze? He’ll bust a gut. Someone walks by? He can barely breathe from laughter. May the Gods help him if something crazy funny actually happens.

- Noct practically becomes the life of the party, dancing around and singing without a care in the world. If he happens to get control of the sound system, he will play the loudest and craziest tunes at full blast.

- Will last be seen either table dancing or going with Luna as she attempts another dangerous stunt/prank


Prompto: The Philosophical Drunk

- Our beloved chocobutt normally struggles with words. But get him drunk? His vocabulary becomes endless.

- Look out Einstein! This guy will suddenly know everything and speak to you for hours on end about topics like the meaning of life, the genetic make up of chocobos, and the physics behind Noct’s magical storage room.

- Have a lot of paper and pens ready, because he’ll start jotting down mathematical and chemical formulas like it’s nobody’s business.

- Prom’s imagination is also insanely active when he’s hammered. He can create worlds out of the simplest things. If you tell him to create a world based on music, he’ll not only give you a picture of the world and it’s residents, but also a full paper of their language, mythology, etc. The possibilities are endless!

- Will last be seen in the center of a small audience, either discussing his latest philosophical musings or the potential cure for cancer depending on his mood


Ignis: The Angry Drunk

- Specs normally doesn’t get drunk, especially since he has to worry about the other three bros. But on the rare chance that he is, the normally calm and collected man is now a stylish spitfire of pure, unadulterated rage.

- One drunk you MUST avoid at all costs! His anger rivals even that of the Hulk’s, Sonny Corleone’s and Gladio’s tempers combined.

- Ignis will suddenly remember any and every single thing you did to make him feel annoyed/frustrated/upset, even if it happened like over ten years ago. He will blow up and shove these back in your face, a truckload of expletives mixed in there for good measure (who knew he had such a dirty mouth?). My advice if you end up crossing paths with him? Just pick a god and pray.

- This guy becomes an absolute tornado of destruction, picking a fight with everything and anything that moves. Hell, he can even toss both Ravus and Gladio across the room now! Expect his knuckles to become a bloody mess at the end of the night if he forgets his gloves.

- Will last be seen screaming at someone/something for a death match (last time, it was a barrel)


Gladiolus: The Clingy Drunk

- The Shield was already a pretty friendly guy before. But drunk out of his mind? He’s on a whole ‘nother level.

- Like a cuddly teddy bear, he will give big warm hugs to everyone he meets. Unfortunately, unlike a teddy bear, these hugs will crush you down to your very soul.

- Gladio will cling to the closest person/object as if his life depended on it. Pulling away only strengthens his grip. Aranea tried this once and ended up dragging him around for the rest of the night.

- The resident tough guy’s soft side will come out in full force. He will affectionately stroke and sing to whatever/whomever he’s holding on to. If he’s really hammered, a bit of baby talk is involved.

- Will last be seen squeezing someone for dear life (most likely Ravus if he’s there) in the corner, making promises to protect them and to never let them go *cues My Heart Will Go On in the background*


Cor: The Flirty Drunk

- The mysterious Immortal is not so stoic and serious anymore once you get a few drinks in his system. Watch out ladies, you’ve got a bonafide Casanova on your hands now!

- He drops pick-up lines like a pro, knows exactly how to get your heart racing (or your panties wet), what positions to use to get you going…Who knew the Marshal could be so smooth?

- Much like a drunk Yuuri Katsuki, Cor can certainly work a pole when he’s wasted. Rumor has it that this is actually a skill acquired from his younger days. An occasional murmur of “Leonhart” will escape some lips if they happen to see.

- This man will flirt with anything that moves and has a pulse, XX or XY chromosomes be damned. Even the most straight-laced and homophobic fellows aren’t immune to his pheromones!

- Will last be seen entering a bedroom or supply closet with a small group of men and women in tow (the very same door will have obscenely loud moans and screams of pleasure coming from it a few minutes later)


Ravus: The Weepy Drunk

- The High Commander normally doesn’t let even a hint of emotion apart from disdain cross his features. But now? He’s a depressed, weeping mess in the corner.

- The smallest thing can set him off. Drop a napkin? Sobs will be heard and tears shed. Ignis screaming at a barrel? Ravus is now ugly crying in the corner while growing mushrooms.

- He becomes way more open to physical contact. If a drunk Gladio is in the area, the former Prince of Tenebrae will become his choking hugging partner for the night.

- Have plenty of tissue, ice cream and blankets on hand if you decide to approach a drunk Ravus. But be warned: don’t give him any sylleblossom-scented items or vanilla ice cream. Both remind him of Queen Sylva and will send him into hysterics.

- Will last be seen either being crushed to death by Gladiolus or curled up in a room somewhere, crying himself to sleep


Lunafreya: The Reckless Drunk

- The prim and proper Oracle? As soon as she gets wasted, it’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde all over again! Luna’s drunk personality prefers to be called “Stella”. She’s a braver and flirtier version of Luna. (Noctis admits that this switch actually turns him on quite a bit

- “Stella” is all for danger and adventure! Keg stand five times in a row? She’s game! Drunken daemon hunt? Try and stop her!

- A master prankster and all-around rebel, drunken Luna has had her fair share of run-ins with the police. Unfortunately for them, “Stella” is also a pretty good actress, imitating Lunafreya as needed. She takes advantage of her sober counterpart’s Oracle status to get away with anything and everything, a few eyelash bats and kind words enough to send them on their way.

- For reasons still unexplained, this woman is now a proficient monster tamer. A drunken hunt led her to befriending the imps she was supposed to kill, “Stella” then ordering the group to raid the nearest outpost for potato chips.

- Will last be seen dragging Noct along to help her with one of her schemes or to watch her perform one of many death-defying stunts


Aranea: The Sober Drunk

- The Commodore would look like she was totally fine, the only indication that she’d been drinking being a faint red tingeing her cheeks.

- Her normally brash and witty banter has pretty much stayed intact. She will trip over or slur a few of her words, but she’ll still be able to carry on a decent conversation.

- While the dragoon’s grace and precision is already impressive enough when she’s sober, it becomes that much more amazing when she’s hammered. Do not play Beer Pong with her; she will destroy you.

- Aranea can pretty much pass for sober when drunk and vice versa. She’s the one the others normally turn to when it comes to sending away the cops because of obvious reasons.

- Will last be seen watching the others make fools out of themselves, recording it for future blackmail material


Hope this was alright…Thanks for making it through this huge wall of text! Have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening :3

bapyess1r  asked:

Sentence: "We're sooo doing this again" Genre: smut/comedy Bias: Jackson ❤ (I like your blog!!!!)

It is summer time, which means, you will be spending 90% of the day indoor in just tank top and shorts. Summer is supposed to be a fun time with friends, whether it is a pool party or a road trip.

Well, that all are possible if your friends are not fake friends. The only people that you can stick with is Jackson, that one guy in your class that does not seem fake at all. Sure, he is popular and nice, but he is nowhere near pretentious. In fact, you are starting to develop some sort of crush towards him, which you did not expect at all.

“Y/N, since both of us hate summer so much, how about a job at that restaurant? You know, the one across the street?” Jackson asks one day, when both of you are hanging out at his backyard.

“A job? Even waking up every morning is tiring me,” you sarcastically laugh at yourself. Your face still glued to your phone, scrolling through your Tumblr dashboard as you sit on the hammock.

“Let’s just give it a shot! You know, get some money,” he makes the gesture for money, slightly looking up, making that stank face of his.

“What the–” you look at him and laugh before pausing to catch your breath and continue speaking.

“Well, yeah. I think that’s good. At least I won’t just spend my time alone in my room contemplating what I’m doing with my life,” you agree.

You turn your attention back to your phone, to resume reading a smut fan fiction that you found somewhere on your dashboard. You just got to the good part when suddenly a shriek is heard.

“What is hap–ah!” You found Jackson right behind you, staring at you in shock.

“Y/N you read that kind of stuffs? I’m disgusted,” he dramatically puts his hand on his chest. You snicker at him and turn your head back

“It’s not even that smutty, sheesh,” you lie back on the hammock, completely enjoying the fan fiction.

“Girl, I thought you were innocent, but wow I’m speechless,” he continue speaking, his tone sounds horrified but in awe at the same time.

“Yeah, whatever. Now let me finish reading this and you can go bac–”

“Y/N~” He calls on your name, in such a playful manner that you cannot help it but to turn your head.

“You’re so dirty. I think you need some cleaning,” he raises his eyebrows as he points the water hose in your direction. You quickly put your phone on the hammock and walking slowly to the table, where you spot a water gun.

“Ha! You too Jackson!” You spray the water onto his face, before he sprays more water to your direction.

“That’s unfair! Come here!” You yell and start chasing him across the backyard, laughing like little kids.

Suddenly, he changes the direction as he runs to the hammock, and knocking down your phone to the ground.

“Jackson! My phone!” You run and fakely weep to your phone, which the screen has already cracked.

We are soooo doing this again! It’s fun, right?” He laughs evilly.

You give him the sharpest glare you can ever do, before snickering at him.

It is your first day working as a waitress, and everything is going well. The customers are not as scary as you thought they are, the trays are not that heavy, and the job is not that boring. With your red uniform hanging on your frame, your hair tied neat into a bun, and a smile plastered on your face, you look exactly like that over friendly waitress who is being friendly just for the tip.

And that is exactly what you are.

The restaurant is not always packed, which is something you are thankful for. And now, it is almost at the end of the shift, which is night time. Your hair is not as neat and your smile is not as genuine as it was before this morning. Your energy is running low, as you sit behind the counter, fanning yourself.

Jackson is still handling a group of customers, in mid twenties, tall, and handsome. He walks back and forth from the kitchen to the table with tray on his hand. As he finishes serving them, he approaches you, sitting tiredly beside you.

“Tired?” You are asking the obvious.

He just glare sharply at you, making you laugh softly at his reaction.

His takes off his black cap, revealing his sweaty brown hair and forehead. He holds the fan on his right hand and use it to fan himself. Maybe it is the hormone, or the atmosphere, but he looks hot at that moment.

You inspect his face, his strong veiny arms, and his sweat from his forehead trickling down at the end of his sharp jaw.

You quickly look away, trying to not think about anything involving him and you, on the bed.

You imagine being under him, completely under his control.

“Call me daddy, Y/N,” as he chokes his hand around your soft neck.

“Y/N!”

He screams your name at your ear. He looks at you with a puzzled look, and alternatively looking at you and the group of attractive customers, sitting parallel from both of you. His lips curl into a smirk, and he raises his eyebrows to you.

“What?!” You question him, punching his right arm. 

He wiggles his eyebrows and chuckles to himself.

“God, Y/N, don’t tell me you are turned on by just looking at them,” he shakes his head in dissatisfaction of your actions. 

You furrowed your eyebrows and hangs your mouth in shock. “What the actual – Jackson, do you really think I’m THAT dirty minded? Look at yourself first,” you point your finger at him, being all sassy.

“Pshh but still, I don’t read smut fan fiction in public, and admits that it is not that smutty,” his lips form a straight line as his eyebrows raised.

‘Shit, he’s right,’ you thought to yourself.

He pumps his fist into the air, seeing you being silent. “Haha, I win!”

OK, now he looks cute, flashing that smile. He looks like a happy puppy.

“Cute,” you unconsciously whisper. Quickly, you bite your lips, mentally curse at yourself.

“I know,” he winks at you, before putting back his cap on and stands up on his feet, jogging to the table.

You are left there, eyes wide, and cheeks flushed.

Now, only you and Jackson left at the restaurant. Both of you guys are assigned to clean up and lock down the premise. Even though this is not even close to your job scope, you can totally see this coming.

“We’re new. That’s normal. Just endure it,” he nonchalantly speaks, sweeping the floor as you arrange the wooden chairs and the tables.

“Man, it’s hot here,” you unbutton your uniform, revealing a black tank top underneath. You hang your sweaty uniform on your shoulders and continue working as if nothing happens.

Jackson on the other hand, stopped sweeping and currently staring right at your chest. He unconsciously licks his lips. He scans your neck, down to your chest, and to the outline of your breasts.

“Yeah, I agree,” he unbuttons his uniform, purposely flexing his arm muscles. He slowly takes off the uniform from his frame and hangs it on one of the chairs.

‘Damn, he’s hot.’

You are staring at his arms. You swear his arms is making you think unholy thoughts. Your mind wanders again, imagining a place where you would rather be with him right now.

“Something’s on your mind, Y/N?” He moves closer to you, eyes showing such concern.

“Wh–I’m fine!” You deny, but he is already right in front of you.

“Your cheeks are flushed, and… your face feels hot. You sure you’re feeling fine?” He asks once again, he puts the back on his hand on top of your forehead, feeling your body temperature.

With him being this close to you, you cannot help your heart that is drumming inside your rib cage. Your breaths become unsteady, and his scent is making you feel dizzy.

“You okay? Sit here, I’ll take some water,” he pulls the chair behind you, motioning for you to sit. You do not know why, but you oblige to whatever he orders you.

You watch as he rushes to the kitchen. You hear sound of glasses clacking with each other before he jogs back to you with a glass of plain water in his hand.

“Here you go, oh sh–”

Unfortunately, his hand slips, and the glass fall just inches away from you. He is muttering sorry and bends down to clean the broken piece of glasses. He carefully picks the glasses with his bare fingers.

“I said I’m fine, Jackson,” you shake your head and bends down to help. You pick the shattered glasses and put it on your palm before standing up again.

“Where’s the newspaper?” You asks, eyes scanning the premise wildly.

“At the racks, near the window,” he says. His eyes never leave your figure, watching your butt move in such a hypnotizing manner as you grab the newspaper and put all the shattered glasses on it. You take the newspaper using both of your hand and bring it over to him.

“Put the glasses here.”

He cleans up the glasses, before taking the newspaper from your hand and throws it in the dustbin.

“Do you think they’ll know?”

“No, if we keep quiet about it,” you say.

The atmosphere goes silent for a few minutes, with both of you quickly finishing up cleaning the place.

When both of you finished, you go to the kitchen to wash your hand. As you rubs the soap all over your hand, Jackson is staring as he leans back at the kitchen counter.

“Y/N, I need to be honest with you,” his tone sounds serious.

“Yeah, what is it?” You put your soapy hands under the running tap water, when suddenly he grabs you by the waist and kisses your nape.

“J-Jackson, what’re you doing?” You quickly turn the tap, stopping the water flow.

“What does it look like huh?” He questions, his big hands roaming to your breast, giving it a hard squeeze, causing you to yelp at the sudden touch.

The only sound that comes out from your mouth is your harsh breaths. You feel something hard poking your butt, as you hear him chuckle to your ear.

“You’re such a tease, Y/N. I know you want this too. I saw the way you look at me,” he nibbles on your ear, biting and licking it. His warm tongue travel to your neck, and down to your shoulders.

“J-Jackson…” You are way too turned on right now, you feel your wetness are dripping down to your thighs.

“Baby girl, your body drives me insane,” his hand travel to your back, before he gives you a hard spank.

You scream, out of pain mixed with pleasure. You do not know if this is dream, or reality. It feels too real to be a dream, but then again, too good to be a reality. You stare at the wall in front of you, completely lost in the new sensation.

“You like that? Such a dirty slut.”

With that, he spanks you once again, through your skinny jeans, making you whimper, begging him for more.

“This jeans is getting in the way, isn’t it?” He harshly unzips your jeans, pulling it down your legs, leaving it dangling at your ankle. Seconds after, you hear he unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans, before you hear the sound of him stroking himself, as he moans your name.

“You would not know how much I think about you, Y/N.” 

His hand is now at the hem of your panties, before he pulls it down until it reaches your thigh.

His hand is massaging your butt cheek before he gives it another slap, making you arch your back, screaming. You love this, you love when he is in control, you love it when he dominates you, you love it when he uses you. It has always been your fantasy, your dirty little fantasy.

His finger slowly wanders to your pussy lips, before he stops just at your sensitive bud, slightly giving it a pinch, resulting in you rolling your hips in pleasure.

“J-Jacks–”

He spanks you once again, as he increases the pressure against your sensitive bud.

“Call me daddy, Y/N. I’m your daddy, and you are my baby girl, my slut. Is that understood?” He growls in your ear. You nod, but that answer does not seem enough to him.

“Answer me, baby girl. Is that understood?”

“Yes, daddy,” you croak out. 

He untied your hair, before his right hand travel down to wrap around your neck, giving it a squeeze. His left hand is still between your legs, as he slowly making small circles around your clit. He runs his fingers down to your entrance, feeling how wet you are.

“My baby girl is doing a good job. You’re a good girl, Y/N. Such a good good girl,” he grunts before inserting two of his fingers inside you, curling and pumping it in and out in such a fast pace. You hold on to the cold metal sink, to support yourself from falling to the floor

“F-fuck…daddy..I’m gonna…” You moan out loudly, before he takes out his fingers from you, leaving you feeling empty.

“Suck.”

You suck on his fingers, swirling your tongue around it, licking it clean. He hisses at the feeling of your tongue, before using his left hand to pet your head.

“Good girl.”

He pulls both of your hand to the back, and moves you to the kitchen counter. He pushes your head down to the cold surface, and both your hands to your back. He holds on your wrists so tightly, before licking your nape and whispers in your ear.

“Now, behave like a good girl, and make daddy cum.”


Things I Write When I’m Bored

It’s done! I purposely end it there, just to leave you in disappointment *evil laugh heard from a distance* (please don’t hate me for this lol)

I hope you like it! Thank you so much for all your love towards the blog! <3 <3

Originally posted by jackssion

F is for “First”

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Note: This was written for the @simons-thirst-squad ABC writing challenge! My prompt was F is for “First” and I hope you enjoy this little fluffy-angsty one shot.

Pairing: Simon x Reader

Warnings: Angst, loss of a loved one, degenerative illness, mentions of a depressive state. NSFW due to the warnings but there is no smut.

Words: 1,767

Originally posted by jdmfanfiction

Death was everywhere.

From the stench of it clinging to every worn fibre, to the sight of it shuffling in ravenous hordes outside of the compound. He couldn’t remember when it happened, but he’d become numb to it. In the New World Order, people were a currency of trade. Building blocks to create a strong workforce and an even stronger army. They were assets. The grief that he should have felt when they lost another Savior had vanished along the way and he never considered it would be possible to feel it again.

But then she happened.

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My Girl (Father!Negan X Daughter!Reader)

Based on the song ‘My Girl’ by The Temptations. Enjoy!


I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day. When it’s cold outside I’ve got the month of May.

Everyone rested on their knees kneeling to Negan, watching as he smiled at all of his people. Lucille in his hand, fingers gripped tight around the polished wood as he began to quietly chuckle. “Y'all can stand” his voice boomed, shifting his body 360 degrees as everyone began to rise from their knees. He then turned to his next victim, sitting right in the middle of the large room.

Negan smiled right at him, showing off his pearly white teeth before beginning to laugh. “What’s your name again?” Negan asked. “J-Jason” the man hesitated, obviously scared of what was about to come from the devilish man grinning right in front of him. “Jason, tell me, you see that girl?” Negan asked, pointing right at the balcony, right at you. Jason quickly twisted his head, before looking back at Negan. “S-Sir I-”

I guess you’d say What can make me feel this way?

Negan grabbed his face, cutting him off from his words and turned Jason’s chair around, making him stare right at you. “Her, right there. Do you see that girl, yes or no?” Negan shouted as Jason began to weep. “Yes!” He cried before Negan threw him onto the floor. You watched helplessly, knowing that no matter how much you would scream and cry for him to stop, Negan would never stop.

“Do you mind telling us who that girl is?” Negan bent down to meet face to face with Jason, watching the boy shake with fear. “(Y-Y/N)” he stuttered before Negan chuckled and smacked Jason’s leg with Lucille causing everyone, including you, to flinch once you heard his loud cries. “You don’t deserve to say her name” Negan spat. Jason was sobbing uncontrollably, his fear and pain pouring out.

“I am going to ask you again, who is she?” Negan grabbed Jason by the shirt, holding Jason’s face close to his as Jason trembled. “Y-Your daughter, s-sir” Jason stuttered as Negan threw him back on the floor, and raised his arms in triumph.

“Now, was that so hard?” Negan played, before glancing back up at you and smiling. “My girl, my precious not-so-little girl!” Negan exclaimed, trying to see if he could make you smile, but frowned watching you keep the look of annoyance plastered right on your face.

My girl (my girl, my girl) Talkin’ 'bout my girl (my girl)

Negan swerved his body away from you, turning and watching the frightened crowd of his people, all terrified of his future actions. “I know, I may not be the best father. I mean hell, in a shit time like this, I don’t think good fathers even exist. But I know, I’d be a completely shit father if I let this moron talk to my daughter the way he did” Negan spoke loud, his voice echoing within the filled factory. He turned his body back to Jason, looking down at the injured boy.

“I don’t know who raised you,” Negan began, “who fed you, played with you, wiped your fuckin’ ass, but I do know this;” Negan pulled Jason up from the floor, throwing him back into the chair that he was sitting in before, and whacked Jason’s torso with Lucille. Jason’s pained cries were like nails on a chalkboard, everyone flinched and covered their ears, unable to bear the shrieks of pain. You had enough and left, feeling hot tears of embarrassment and disappointment streaming down your face.

“You do not ever, ever speak to a woman like that, especially my fuckin’ daughter! Do you understand me, or do I have to repeat myself like I’ve been doin’ for the last 50 fuckin’ times!” Negan shouted. Jason could only get out the slightest of whimpers before Negan shouted for him to answer. “Y-Yes! I-I’m sorry! But p-please, let me g-go!” Jason cried before Negan scoffed. He looked back up at the spot you used to be, before leaning away from Jason’s face and looking back down at the boy.

“I’m not fuckin’ finished with you”

I’ve got so much honey The bees envy me I’ve got a sweeter song Than the birds in the trees

You were locked in your room, sobbing into a pillow, feeling your heart twisted and torn from Negan’s actions. You felt betrayed and alone, like both of your parents had died. Losing your mother at a young age, before all of this happened, was hard enough, but now your father acting like this, killing innocent people, to say you were disappointed would be an understatement.

Three loud bangs cascaded from the other side of your door, you shifted your body as the door slowly opened, revealing Negan with a bloodied Lucille slung over his shoulder.

I guess you’d say What can make me feel this way? My girl (my girl, my girl) Talkin’ 'bout my girl (my girl)

“Baby, I’m so-”

“Can you just leave? You are the last person I want to see right now.”

Negan frowned, setting Lucille down by your door before closing it and stepping towards your bed, sitting next to you. “You are so stubborn, just like your mother,” Negan chuckled “just like your mother.” he repeated softly to himself before shaking his head.

“I know you know I haven’t been the same since she died, hell, I haven’t been the same since she got goddamn cancer. But you, you’re the reason why I haven’t completely lost my mind. You kept me in place” Negan spoke softly, this was a side of Negan you haven’t experienced since you were a little girl, it felt like a completely different person.

Negan looked over at you, and chuckled. His smile was big as he continued to look over your facial features which he found completely identical to your mothers. “I know you’re not happy with the way I do things, Baby. But this is who I am, this is how I keep us safe!” You cringed at the use of your old nickname; Baby. Your mothers favorite movie was Dirty Dancing and she began to call you Baby after you had told her you wanted to dance just like Baby.

Though Negan despised the movie, the nickname did stick with him and he has used it ever since, but as you got older you began to hate the nickname, as it reminded you of the times that used to be.

I don’t need no money, fortune or fame I’ve got all the riches, baby One man can claim

“Don’t call me Baby” you muttered, before Negan was taken aback, his eyes widening at your fierce attitude. “What did you just say to me?” He grumbled, his short temper now sparked. “Don’t call me that dumb nickname, don’t even think about it! Only my dad is allowed to call me that and right now I don’t know where he is!” You shouted, as Negan furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who do you think you are, talkin’ to me like that, after I just defended you from that dick-wipe who completely treated you like a piece of trash!” Negan shouted back at you, his voice obviously louder than yours. “I’m not that little eight year old anymore, I can handle myself! I taught myself how to survive without a dad, because a dad is the complete opposite of what you are!” You cried, watching a rare look of horror play out on Negan’s face.

guess you’d say What can make me feel this way? My girl (my girl, my girl) Talkin’ 'bout my girl (my girl)

Negan grabbed you off of the bed, holding you in his arms, close to his chest. “No matter how much you hate me, I’m always gonna love you. You make think I’m unfair, but I’m doing what I need to do to survive and keep your ass safe, because keepin’ your ass safe is what your mother would want. I want what she wants. So hate me all you want, you can even kill me right now, but if you did, I’d still take a bullet right between the fuckin’ eyes to protect you” Negan spoke, as tears began to fill your eyes, you didn’t know how to react.

You couldn’t help but pull him into a tight him, whispering soft 'I’m sorry’s’ into his ear. You definitely have never seen this side of him for a long time, and you couldn’t have been more relieved to know that he still had his soft spot for you. His sunshine, his Baby, his girl.


That was really bad. I apologize. I might rewrite this.
The Kilt is Sexy

This really just poured out when I saw ElRoy’s imagine. I waited a few days because I wanted her consent before posting anything, and then tumblr ate the ask and grumble grumble complaints about tumblr. But, this reader speaks a lot more like I do, so that was fun. This also started as a drabble and got just a bit out of hand. Feedback is always appreciated! Like, seriously, I’ll weep for joy. xD

Fandom: Ten Inch Hero
Pairing: Priestly x Reader
Inspiration: ElRoy’s marvelous imagine. Also, you should be following her in general. She’s kind of the best. :D
Words: 1,355
Tagging: @wayward-marvel-and-more, because without her, this wouldn’t exist.

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Why I love Shakespeare (and why you should too)

Have you ever read Shakespeare and thought, “This is stupid.  I don’t understand a word of this”? 

Hey, me too! The first work of Shakespeare I ever read was Romeo and Juliet as a freshman in high school, and I remember thinking, I know this is a classic story and all, but why do people think this is so good?  A couple of teenagers fall so madly in love in a matter of days that they make a bunch of stupid decisions that gets themselves and a few other people killed.  

Wow.  We should probably market this as the greatest love story of all time.  

I just didn’t get it.

Within the next few years I read Julius Caesar, which definitely impressed me more, and then I read Hamlet, which I legitimately enjoyed, but there was still something missing.  I’d come to appreciate Shakespeare, but I just couldn't love Shakespeare.  

And then something happened that made all that change.  Something that changed my outlook on everything I’ve ever heard about Shakespeare’s plays.

I saw one performed.  

I know, I know, revolutionary, right?  I saw a freaking play.  But here’s why it was so amazing for me.

To preface, I read the play beforehand, and wasn’t impressed.  The play I’m talking about is Comedy of Errors, which I’d actually never heard of before reading it.  It’s one of Shakespeare’s earlier works.  It’s a comedy about identical twins who happen to have identical twin servants who get separated basically at birth.  They take the same name, as do the servants who have been with them since birth, so you end up with two guys names Antipholus with two servants named Dromio.  They come to the same town (now adults) and everybody gets everybody else mixed up.  

Upon reading the play, I chuckled maybe a couple times, but it wasn’t all that funny.  Then I went and saw it, and it’s probably the second funniest play I’ve seen in my entire life.  I laughed so hard.  The whole thing was hilarious.  

And it was in that moment, walking out of the Globe theatre after my first Shakespeare production, that I started to love it.  

An epiphany of understanding: Think of it this way.  Imagine your favorite book.  A book that makes you laugh and cry and want to be a better person.  A book that inspires you.  Now imagine the sparknotes version of that book.  Raw, basic plot with none of the flourishes and nuances that make that book what it is.  Sparknotes will tell you what happens, but that’s it.  

If you read Sparknotes, would that still be your favorite book?  Probably not.  Mostly because it wouldn’t mean anything to you.  

Reading a Shakespeare play is like reading the Sparknotes version of a book.You get dialogue.  That’s it.  The bare basics with nothing that makes it truly incredible.  

No wonder so many people hate Shakespeare!  They have no idea what Shakespeare even is!

A few weeks after my wonderful first encounter, I returned to the Globe to see Julius Caesar.  Remember how I’ve read this one before?  I liked it before.  But just wait.  

I stand in the Globe as a groundling, just as a working class citizen would have in Shakespeare’s day.  Midway through the play, I lean against the stage in the front row and watch the fake blood flow as Caesar is stabbed again and again.  The conspirators, soaked to their elbows in blood, threaten Mark Antony, a supporter of Caesar’s who has walked in to see their heinous  act.  Antony claims to mean them no harm, and they leave him for a moment alone with Caesar, who lies dead in a pool of crimson.  The murderers exit, and Mark Antony stands alone on the stage.  He stumbles to Caesar’s body, falls to his knees, and weeps.  

“O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,” Antony whispers through his tears to Caesar, “that I am meek and gentle with these butchers.  Thou art the ruins of the noblest man that ever lived in the tide of times.”

He raises his hands upward to heaven, now dripping with Caesar’s blood, his face streaked with tears. “Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!”  His voice echoes across the hundreds of silent people who suddenly feel as if they have intruded on this grieved and pained man as he weeps over his dead friend.  

A tear slides from my own eye.  

No longer words on a page, Shakespeare is alive.  The words are no longer ancient and out-of-date, but natural and beautiful.  

Shakespeare was not of an age, but for all time, as Ben Jonson said.  

I love Shakespeare.  I love Shakespeare.  Not because I’ve read most of his plays, which I haven’t.  Not because I’ve seen many of his plays, because I haven’t.  

I love Shakespeare because I’ve seen the plays come to life on stage in the way they were meant to.  Plays are meant to be seen, not read.  

So don’t hate Shakespeare because you don’t understand it.  Stop reading and start watching.  Maybe you’ll fall in love, too.  

Our Beautiful Family

Request from @harrysliar for:
A Robb X Reader, something romantic and cute, with all Starks happy and alive ;)

Robb Stark X Reader

Originally posted by diewolves

**Just seeing this gif of the fam all together and smiling gives me feels, guys. Good ole George R.R. is really tugging at my heart strings with the Stark family. I actually cry every single time something happens to one of them**

A/N: I was happy to oblige this request! I needed some fluffy Robb feels for my heart so thanks so much for requesting this :) I hope you enjoy! With love, Kat.

Warnings: all the fluff, Stark family feels, Father!Robb feels, Husband!Robb feels, just all the feels basically

Words: 2458

The faint sound of crying woke you from your sleep. You were cuddled up to your husband Robb as you groaned and stretched to tend to your son, Greydon Stark, who was turning a year old in a week. You were excited to celebrate your son’s first name day, but he woke you up in the middle of the night more often than not.

“I’ve got him love” Robb said sleepily, kissing you on the forehead and then kissing your slightly swollen belly, “You need your rest.” You watched as he pulled back the lush, fur covers of your bed, clambering over to the crib your son slept in. You were lucky to have a man like Robb Stark at your side. He was loyal, loving, beautiful, and so good with your son. You were already pregnant with your second child, whom both of you were sure was a boy. Since you were already awake, you sat up in bed and watched as the love of your life lifted your son out of his crib and cradled him in his arms, cooing softly and rocking him gently in an attempt to lull him back to sleep. You caressed your ever-growing baby bump, smiling at the amazing sight that was your husband.

“Is everything alright in here?” you heard through the door, followed by a soft knock.

“Yes, mother. Everything is fine, Greydon here was just stirring a bit” Robb answered, tickling under the boy’s chin with his pointer finger, loud enough for Lady Catelyn to hear, but soft enough as to not disturb your son a second time.

“You can enter, Lady Stark” you said, pulling up the covers to conceal your belly. You were going to wait until your son’s name day to reveal your second pregnancy. Catelyn peeked through the door, smiling at you and Robb. He had returned to the bed now, still holding your son in his arms, the two of you fascinated by his tiny features and his already curly, dark hair.

“My, you two look like Ned and I when we had you, Robb” she couldn’t help but tear up a bit as she walked in the room with one hand over her chest, the sight of a new Stark generation forming was warming her heart. The two of you smiled up at her with love in your eyes.

“I see he’s just as restless as you were too” she laughed, thinking back to all the times her own eldest son woke her and Ned from their sleep.

“Lady Catelyn, I now fully understand your fierce protection of your children. I couldn’t imagine a day without Greydon and I now never want to see him hurt or upset. The strength of a mother’s love was something I now know that I never fully understood until the moment I had my first son” you smiled at her and the both of you were crying now. Leave it to the loving mothers to be weeping in the early hours of the morning over how much you loved your children.

“Well, Lady Y/N Stark” she emphasized your surname with a smile, “I’m glad my son chose a woman who makes an excellent mother and loves him as much as I do and I know you’ll protect and love your children with the same ferocity that I did my own. I’ll leave you two to your own, breakfast will be ready in a few hours” she smiled, making her way to the door. Before she left, though, she added one more thing. “Oh, and I’m happy you said first son. I hope that means you plan on having more” she said with a wide smile and a wink, closing the door as quietly as possible with respect to your son who was now sleeping again. Robb put your son back in his crib, smiling down at him and kissing his nose before returning to your bed.

“I’m going to see the midwife today” you said, eyes closed and grinning as you laid your head on Robb’s chest once he laid back down.

“To find out the sex?” he said, you could hear his voice perk up at the idea of finding out if your second child really was a boy. He was stroking your hair with one hand and intertwining his fingers with yours with his other hand.

“Yes” you said, kissing the patch of skin that was exposed at the top of his shirt, making your way up his neck to his soft lips.

Unfortunately, your cuddle session with Robb had to come to an end. The sun was rising so you moved to get your son ready for breakfast, handing Robb his clothes from the dresser as you went. You pinned the cloth diaper onto your son, quickly dressing him in his trousers and tunic. His baby clothes were so tiny and precious. You were gifted a hand-crafted tunic with a Stark direwolf sewn on the front by Sansa, she was getting quite good at embroidery, but you decided to save it for Greydon’s name day and settle for a plain grey tunic today. You handed Robb a grey tunic to match his son’s and some black trousers. He donned a simple black leather pullover to go over his shirt, because it was still summer there wouldn’t be many furs worn, especially inside the castle. You handed your son to Robb once he was done getting dressed, because he was quite wiggly and restless and couldn’t be left on the floor or bed unattended because he was sure to get himself in trouble. You had learned that lesson the hard way when you left him on the floor for a moment and he tipped over a carafe, spilling wine all over himself. You returned from the washroom to your son, sticky and purple, giggling and playing in the puddle of the wine he was sitting in. He was a troublemaker, just like your husband.

After you were done tying up your maroon dress, making sure your slightly pregnant belly did not show at all, you turned around to see Robb laying on the bed on his back, tossing your son lightly in the air as they both laughed.

“My, my. You boys definitely keep me on my toes” you laughed, snatching your son up quickly and tickling his sides, making him laugh even harder. It was moments like these that you cherished, when there was no war and no deaths, only peace and happiness.

The three of you made your way to the dining hall for breakfast and you were the last to arrive, which was mostly expected from the new parents. You opened the doors to the hall to see the Stark family all deep in conversation, laughing and having a good time and enjoying their breakfast. You took your seat next to Catelyn and Robb took his seat next to Ned, sitting across from you. You placed Greydon on your lap. Sansa was sat next to you and Arya next to her. John, Bran, and Rickon were sat next to one another beside Robb. You helped yourself to some bacon, savoring the taste of it as your son snuck the rest of the piece you cut in half and tried to eat it. You and your husband laughed as you took it away just in time and moved to grab his baby food and maybe feel him some eggs.

After breakfast, with the whole family sated, you decided to hand your son to Robb so he could watch him while you visited the septa about the baby in your belly. It felt nice to keep the secret between just you and Robb for now. When you got pregnant the first time, you were excited and told everyone immediately, now it felt even more intimate because you and him were the only ones who knew. Robb was going outside with his siblings, so you figured letting your son get some of his seemingly never-ending energy out by running around outside wasn’t such a bad plan.

“Mya” you said, knocking on the door of the room where she conducted exams and delivered babies and pushing open the door.

“Come in, Lady Stark!” she said, her hands submerged in a wash basin where she was scrubbing her fingers. You loved Mya, she helped deliver Greydon and when you told her to keep it under wraps that you were pregnant yet again, she happily obliged.

She tested your blood and examined your body, in an attempt to figure out the sex of your child. You were excited and nervous, secretly hoping that you would bear another boy. The few minutes that it took for the blood test to cure felt like hours and you were sitting on the table, relentlessly tapping your fingers in nervousness.

“Well, Y/N, I had a feeling from your physical examination and your blood test has confirmed it. You’ll be having another boy” she smiled as she saw your ecstatic reaction, tears welling in your eyes in pure, unadulterated happiness.

“Thank you, Mya!” you exclaimed, hugging her tightly and running off to tell Robb the good news. You couldn’t contain your excitement any longer and you had to call your husband inside to tell him the news in private. You poked your head out the door into the courtyard and saw Robb and Jon playing with your son while Bran and Rickon ran around chasing one another and Sansa and Arya danced around, giggling and braiding one another’s hair.

“Robb, can I speak to you for a moment?” you asked, trying to hide your enthusiasm as to not let on that you and he were holding secrets from the family. He excused himself from Jon, leaving your son with him and you watched as Jon lifted him up in the air, laughing and smiling, thinking about how he’d make a great father one day. Robb finally got to you and you pulled him indoors, wrapping your arms around his neck and crashing your lips to his quickly.

“It’s a boy” you said, barely even able to get the words out without laughing and crying at the same time.

“Really?” he asked, tears now evident in his big, blue eyes.

“Yes” you smiled and nodded, giggling as Robb wrapped you up for yet another hug, this one tighter than the last. His beard tickled your skin as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel the vibrations of his laughter  on the soft skin of your throat.

The week passed so quickly you could’ve sworn that you simply blinked and it was the day of your son’s name day. You were busy dressing your son in the tunic that Sansa made for him when Robb came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing your swollen stomach gently as he kissed your shoulder and the side of your face, his scruff tickling your skin, causing you to giggle. Greydon was playing with the fur blankets on your bed and Robb spun you around, kneeling down in front of you and kissing your belly a few times.

“I can’t wait to meet you, little Axell Stark” he grinned that your baby finally had a name, one that the two of you settled on quickly. The two of you prided yourselves on the fact that the names of your sons had great meaning. Greydon meant born to be eminent, while Axell meant Father of peace. You hoped their names would ring true through their lives and that your sons would live up to their great surnames as well.

Carrying your joyful son down the stairs and through the halls to the dining hall where the party was being held, your husband followed closely behind you, making silly faces at your son to elicit giggles from him. Walking into the dining hall, you were greeted by Ned Stark.

“Y/N and Robb! It’s good to see you this morning, and there’s my grandson. The boy that we’re celebrating today!” he smiled, whisking your son from your arms and pulling him into a hug. It was nice to see Lord Stark in such a happy, carefree mood.

“Y/N!” Sansa and Arya yelled in unison, coming up to hug you from both sides, the three of you laughing at the gesture. They always treated you as if they hadn’t seen you in weeks even if they had just seen you the night before. You greeted the boys and Lady Catelyn, pulling them all into hugs, with Catelyn examining you after she hugged you, noticing that you had put on some weight. She raised an eyebrow at you, causing you to nudge Robb and smile, signaling it was time for your big reveal.

“Okay, so Robb and I have a surprise for you all!” you said as Robb wrapped an arm around your shoulders, smiling down at you and kissing you on the temple.

“In a few short months” you continued, the smile on your face growing wider, “You will be meeting the newest member of the Stark family, Axell.” When you finished, you were rubbing your belly, revealing the bump through the fabric of your dress. Robb’s hand was over yours, smiling like the proud father that he was.

“Aye, that’s my boy!” Ned yelled, pulling Robb in for a huge hug and ruffling his hair as he laughed and clapped him on the back. He received hugs from all three of his brothers, while Lady Catelyn was simply over the moon for the fact that she would be getting her second grandchild so soon. You were holding Greydon on your hip and talking to the girls and Sansa was prattling on adorably about how she couldn’t wait to sew clothes for another baby and Arya was telling you that she’d help train the boys in sword fighting when they were old enough. The happiness surrounding you was infectious and you were so lucky to be surrounded by such kind, loving, caring people. These were the people who were going to help raise your sons and teach them their most important lessons.

The celebration of your son’s name day was a truly incredible occasion, with many houses of the North coming to celebrate the birthday of the potential future King in the North.

You surveyed your family; talking, laughing, and playing with your son, while the other houses of the North that had allegiances to the Starks presented him with gifts of all kinds. Your family was only in its beginning stages, and you couldn’t wait to continue your adventures with the love of your life and your beautiful children.

Something That Lasts

Spiritassassin Week 2017, Prompt 7: Celebrations

(Slightly nsfw, some mild self-esteem issues. Also this probably only counts for the prompt if you squint. Mostly this fic is a Hot Mess much like Baze himself.)

There are lights on the water, a soft, barely there glow that still manages to make it look like the heavens have been tossed out onto the pools tucked deep beneath the surface. The kyber caves are a strange place, heady and intoxicating, thick with Force sense that can be as cloying as walking through incense clouds in the temple on holy days, and always humming. The caves are never quiet because of the kyber there, the way it sings and sighs and murmurs, a constant susurration that has been known to drive some sentients mad because they cannot decipher what is being said and has resulted in many more accidentally drowning as people chase the words, the voices into the deep pools that linger inside the caves, water deathly cold and inky black and deeper than anyone knows, as deep as the mystery of the Force itself. Some of the initiates are intimidated by the caves and the kyber and the still waters that never seem to move even when someone dips fingers or toes in, the waters just seem to part, sliding around the object but not creating waves, not undulating. Baze has always found the caves to be beautiful. He has always enjoyed stealing down into their depths whenever he can to just sit and watch the lights on the water, the reflection of the constant glow that comes from both the kyber and the equally luminescent kyber worms that make their homes in the caves. Everything here is silent and still and slow. It helps him think. It helps him relax and find himself, sort through all the clamor of the day and locate his own heartbeat, settle his own breathing, drift among his thoughts and return.

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At least i planned on being productive (superwholock)

I made this up and I’m really proud of it! This is part one (I’m not sure how many parts there will be) and I’m really excited to keep writing!

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, weeping angels (I know those things freak my out when watching the show so I thought id warn anyone who doesn’t like them).

Characters: Sam, Dean, Reader, Sherlock, John, The Doctor, Clara.

Enjoy :)

 

 

I wake up in the morning to the sound of my alarm clock going off. Groaning I roll over and slam my fist onto the button. The alarm goes silent and I let out a breath.

Why on earth would I put an alarm on? Well I planned on being efficient today.

Nope.

I woke up again to the sound of my alarm clock going off again. Slamming my fist onto the button once again only to check the time.

Its eight o’clock. I slept for an extra hour.

I should be productive.

Ugh.

I push myself out of bed and go into the library where Sam is sitting running a hand through his hair.

“Good morning.” I mumble collapsing into the chair Dean normally sits at.

“Good morning.” Sam says sleepily. “You’re up early.”

“I planned on being efficient.”

“Doing what?” Sam asks.

“I have no idea.” I mumble as I run a hand through my hair. “I didn’t really think it through.”

Sam laughs quietly and I hear the familiar sound of Deans footsteps as he enters the kitchen and I hear pots and pans being moved around.

“I want breakfast.” I announce standing up. “Want anything?”

Sam nods. “Eggs.”

I groan “Ugh I thought you were gonna say no.”

He laughs and I smile “Bacon?”

“Sure.” He says and I go towards the kitchen.

“Morning.” I say as I walk into the kitchen. “What are you making?”

“Bacon and Eggs.” Dean says “Want some?”

“Sure.” I say “Oh and Sammy wants some too.”

Dean groans “I thought you were gonna say no.” He jokes and I laugh.

“You two are like twins.” Sam says entering the kitchen with a paper in his hands. “She just said the exact same thing.”

Dean holds up a hand and I high five him before getting out plates and glasses.

“Anything happening today?” Dean asks.

“Maybe.” Sam mumbles. “WE might have a case.”

“Great.” Dean groans.

“Hey were saving people!” I push his shoulder “Cheer up!”

“Id cheer up if it didn’t mean having to run around and get punched.” Dean grumbles.

“That’s the thing its weird.” Sam says “I don’t think its our usual thing.”

“Since when is our thing usual?”

“Here you go.” Dean hands me two plates of breakfast and I take one to Sam before going back to get our drinks and Dean sits down.

Pouring the drinks we listen to Sam. “It seems like people are being killed by something the cops are unable to identify. There are not finger prints and no traces of the killers.”

“That’s horrible but how do we know its our type of thing?” Dean asks.

“One of the policemen say that the tapes don’t appear to be tempered with computer wise but there are a bunch of glitches making parts of the tape, between the person being fine and then the person being dead, gone.”

“Sounds ghosty.” I say “Plus that would explain why there are no finger prints.”

“Lets check it out.” Dean says.

“After breakfast.” Sam says.

“Definitely.” I say and Dean smiles before digging in.

I walk around in my room grabbing my things before throwing on my fake FBI suit and packing away some clothing.

“Y/N hurry up!” Dean shouts.

“Hold up don’t get your pants in a twist!” I holler back and grab the last of my things.

“Took you long enough.” Dean says.

I mimic him silently and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Lets just go.” Sam’s says “Please no arguing.”

“No promises.” I smile cheekily and Dean rolls his eyes as Sam holds back a smile.

I get in the back of the impala and Dean turns on the music and AC/DC’s Back in Black bursts through the speakers.

The garage doors of the bunker opens and we begin to drive. I smile as Dean turns up the music and starts to sing along.

We drive for a few hours because the case is only a few hours over. Sam eventually joins in and for a little while were all singing along to the music.

Once we get to the crime scene we walk over to the yellow tape and step under it holding out our badges.

Dean goes to talk to the police on the scene and Sam and I walk over to the actual scene.

There’s an outline of the body and I don’t go to close. Though I’ve been hunting with my brothers for as long as I can remember it still saddens me when this happens.

“You see anything?” Sam asks as we crouch down to look around.

I go slightly closer to the outline when something catches my eye. “Yeah…it looks like…dust?”

“Dust like I need to clean?”

“No.” I say confusedly. “Dust like from a statue? I don’t know.”

I look around as Sam examines it and I look over behind us to see a fountain with a bunch of statues on it. Four to be exact. There’s one of a two small cupids and a couple facing each other.

I brush the dust that I had on my hands and hold it up to the statues. The color is slightly different but not my much. Then I look at the others and realize there are different shades of stone on all of them.

Brushing the stuff off my hands I look around and look up to see the camera that was faced directly at the scene.

Walking over to my brothers I let out a breath and they stand up.

“Looks like we need to pay the security room a visit and get a look at the footage.”

“Sounds about right.” Dean says “Lets go.”

The office isn’t that big and Sam is tapping away on the video.

“Nothing tampered that I can see. Like something near the actual camera messed with it. Think it’s a ghost?”

“Maybe.” Dean says “I mean what else do you think it could be?”

“I don’t think it’s a ghost.” I say “I mean where would a ghost get dust?”

“Well sometimes they leave traces of what happened to them at the crime scene they commit. Hurting people the same way.” Dean explains.

“I know its just I don’t think it is.” I say.

“What do you think it is then?” Dean asks.

“Sam can I take a look at the footage?” I ask motioning to the chair.

“Sure.” he says and I go through the footage.

“Something is bothering me.” I say “I just cant tell what.”

I play the video over and over. One second everything is normal and the next the screen glitches for barely a second and the person is lying there.

“What the heck?” I ask “why do I have such a bad feeling in my gut?”

“Because your watching a weird ass crime over and over?” Dean suggests “Where we just see the guy ending up dead on the ground after a millisecond of messed up footage?”

“Yeah but I mean something’s wrong.” I say “And don’t make a smart ass remark Dean Winchester.”

I turn to glare at him and he holds up his hands in defense before making a zipping motion with his mouth.

I glance at Sam and he nods at me to keep going.

I turn back to the screen when something catches my eye.

“Sam can you zoom in on the screen?” I ask giving him back the chair.

“Sure.” He says “Where?”

“The right side. The fountain.”

“Okay.” He says then confusedly “Why the fountain?”
“Shh.” I push him out of the chair lightly and he stands up so I can look at the screen better.

“Holy shit.” I say “There are five statues.”

“So?” Dean asks “What’s the big deal?”

“When we were outside and I went to look at them there were only four.” I say leaning back. “There’s a statue missing.”

“So what they stole a statue too?” Dean asks.

“No I don’t think so. I mean there was dust at the scene. It looked like dust from the sculptures.” I say. “See in this picture it’s the man the woman the two cupids and a angel that appears to be crying. But outside the angel isn’t there.”

“Do you think it’s a shape shifter?” Sam asks.

“A shape shifter turning into a statue?” I ask. “I don’t think so.”

“That’s because its not a statue.” A voice sounds from behind us and I jump and turn around. Dean lifts his gun as well as Sam only two see two men standing there. That didn’t mean anything though.

“Woh woh.” The shorter one puts his hands up. “No need for guns. Were just here to see the footage.”

“Who are you?” I ask hesitantly.

“The names Sherlock Holmes.” The taller one with dark curly hair says. “And this is John Watson.”

“Sherlock Holmes.” I say “The famous detective from London?”

“You know him?” Dean asks.

“Sort of.” I say “He’s this amazing detective. Solved so much stuff.”

“Yes well that’s what I do.” Sherlock steps forward and the boys put there guns down as Sherlock takes a seat.

“I apologize for his behavior.” John says “Its nice to meet you.”

Before I can say anything as I shake his hand Sherlock spins in his chair to look at us skeptically.

“Who are you?” Sherlock asks folding his hands together.

“Agents Stone, Floyd, and Gregory.” Dean says and we hold up our badges.

Four seconds later Sherlock narrows his eyes “Fake.”

“Excuse you?” Dean asks shocked.

“Those are fake. The numbers have shifted ten digits and two letters have been mixed with the end of the year.” Sherlock says and I raise my eyebrows putting my ID away as well as Sam and Dean.

Sherlock turns back to the computers and begins tapping away.

“So if you aren’t FBI who are you?” John asks curiously. He eyes Sherlock then us and seems to relax appearing as though he does not consider us a threat, at least as long as Sherlock doesn’t appear to see us as one, anyways.

“The names Y/N.” I say

“Y/N.” Sam says sternly.

“Look I’ve gone through that tape multiple times and trust me its not tampered with.” I say.

“I could tell the first time I watched it.” Sherlock says “I just have to check something.”

“Show off.” Dean mutters and Sherlock ignores him.

“Like I said who are you?” John asks.

I glance at Sam and Dean who look hesitantly at each other.

“The names Y/N Winchester. These are my brothers Sam and Dean.” I hold out my hand and John shakes it.

“So what are you guys really doing here?” John asks.

“You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.” Sam says.

“Ill give it a go.” John says “Trust me its probably not the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Were hunters.” I say “As in we hunt the Supernatural. Wendigos, werewolves, vampires, ghosts. You name it we’ve hunted it.”

“That’s insane.” John says “You’re lying.”
“Were not.” Dean says.

“Well.” John says “I don’t know if I believe you but its definitely not the craziest thing I’ve heard.”

“So what is?” I ask but Sherlock standing up immediately and the chair rolling back slightly surprised us all and I jump.

“NO!” Sherlock shouts then slams his fist on the table.

“What is it Sherlock?” John asks as he walks towards the computers.

“It’s the statues.” Sherlock says.

“Told you.” I say sticking my tongue out to Sam and Dean.

“You knew?” Sherlock turns to me curiously.

“Not really.” I say “But I saw the dust at the scene and one of the statues is missing when your outside. The one of the angel crying.”

“Not quite.” Sherlock says “It’s a weeping angel.”

“what’s a weeping angel?” Sam asks hesitantly.

“Well considering you hunt monsters you will probably not find this shocking.” Sherlock says.

“You believe us?” I ask.

“Not quite.” Sherlock eyes me “But like John says its not the craziest I’ve ever heard.”
“So what is it?” I ask.

“An alien.” Sherlock says “A very very dangerous alien.”

“An alien?” Dean scoffs. “Nuhuh. Monsters I know because I deal with them daily but aliens?”

“I know it sounds crazy Dean but is it really that hard to believe?” Sam asks.

“How do we know your not pulling our legs and making fun of us for saying we hunt monsters?” I ask.

“This is murder. Its not something I joke about.”

I nod “Alright.”

“Alright.” Dean asks me surprised. “You really believe him?”

“Its not that hard to.” I say “We hunt monsters Dean. This appears no different.”

“Except they’re from space!” HE shouts “This is unbelievable.”

“I can prove it.” Sherlock says as we all walk out of the building and to the crime scene.

“How?” I ask and Sherlock looks around before the air seems almost deformed a few feet from us. A warping like sound is heard and it begins to color a darkish blue and in the form of a large box.

It fades in and out until it solidifies.

“Hello!” The door of the police box opens to show a man with a bow tie and a trench coat says happily stepping out. “Sherlock! John!” The man turns to us as a girl steps out of the box. Her hair is a dark brown and she smiles as she greets the two guys before turning to face us. “And who are you?”

“Y/N, Dean, and Sam Winchester.” John answers as we stare at the box and I snap out of it first.

“What’s your name?” I ask trying to be polite and calm though I am freaking out on the inside.

“I’m The Doctor.” The Doctor shakes my hand and proceeds to do so with Sam and Dean.

“The Doctor is his name.” Sherlock says before I can ask. I open my mouth again but he answers already. “and because it’s a predictable question.”

I shut my mouth before glaring at Sherlock. “Are you sure you’re not psychic?”

“Everyone says that.” The girl says “Even Sherlock did. I’m Clara by the way.”

“Nice to meet you too.” I say. “If you don’t mind me asking, what, you know. The box thing?”

“The TARDIS not the box thing.” The Doctor turns to face thing.

“TARDIS?” Sam asks confusedly.

“Time And Relative Dimension In Space.” Clara states proudly. “It’s The Doctors time and Space traveling machine.”

“So you’re an alien?” Dean asks Clara.

“Nope!” She says. “Well not me anyways. The Doctor is though.”

“I’m a time lord.” The Doctor says.

“These men claim to be hunters.” Sherlock turns to the Doctor “have you heard of them?”

“I may have.” The Doctor ponders. “I believe I have but I never quite was sure whether you were just a rumour or not.”

“We can prove it.” Dean says finally.

“How?” Sam whispers.

Dean smirks and I realize.

“Castiel!” WE both call and Dean shoots me a grin.

“I was called.” Castiel’s voice rings out from behind us and everyone turns to see him.

“This is Castiel.” Dean says “Angel of the Lord.”

“I like your coat.” The Doctor says.

“Your coat is very appealing as well.” Castiel says monotonly.

“He’s actually a big fluff ball.” I say to Clara as she raises her eyebrows.

“An Angel?” She asks “Like from Heaven?”

“Not like.” I say “Castiel is from Heaven.”

“Where are your wings?” She asks.

“Humans can not handle my true form so I am in a form you can comprehend.”

“Cool.” Clara says. “Well I’m Clara and that’s The Doctor and Sherlock and John.”

“Nice to meet you.” Castiel says.

“Speaking of Angels.” I say then turn to Sherlock “What about weeping Angels?”

The Doctor tenses and turns to Sherlock. “Weeping Angels?”

“Yes.” Sherlock says “When they called me down to look at the crime scene I was going to decline until I saw pictures. I had to come see for myself.”

“It’s a good thing you called me.” The Doctor says.

“Again.” Dean says “Weeping Angels?”

“A very dangerous alien race.” The Doctor says.
“So we’ve heard.” Dean mutters.

“That still doesn’t explain what it is.” Dean says.

“They disguise themselves as statues and whenever no one is looking they may move. That’s how they hide.”

“So they can also mess with footage I’m guessing?” Sam asks.

“Yes.” The Doctor says “If you so much as blink they can move.”

“They can mess with lighting, footage, anything that can help you see them.” Clara says “They’re dangerous.

“Well how do you kill one?” Dean asks.

“You cant.” The Doctor says.

“Of coarse you can.” Dean says “Anything with a pulse can be killed.”

“I don’t think it has a pulse.” Clara says. “We don’t really get close enough to find out.”

“Nor do we want to.” The Doctor says.

“Alright.” Sam says “Well it looks like we have to come up with a plan.”

“First we need to determine why they are doing this.” Sherlock says.

“Normally they are passed as murders here on earth. They aren’t normally noticed and blame it on something they understand.”

We nod. “We get that.” Sam says.

“But when they start showing up like this, which is rare, its like they’re planning something.”

“Have they before?” I ask hesitantly.

“They move to survive and spread. They will just keeping doing this until we can stop them.”

“Well it seems to only be happening in this town so far.” Sam says “So we know they haven’t spread much yet. Its busy during the day so they cant really move.”

“But at night…well…” I trail off “It gets really quiet.”

“Looks like we’ve got some work to do.” Sherlock says and we nod.

I turn to Castiel “you in?”

“Of coarse.” Castiel says.

“Alright.” I say clapping my hands together “Lets kick some statue ass.”

 

 

Sooooooooo I really hope you liked it!

Obviously there is going to be more! As mentioned before plus how could I just stop it there!

I’m really proud of this (and it totals to about nine and a half pages so woohoo!!) and I cant wait to write more.

Also thank you for almost 50 followers! I’m super happy and excited!

I also just wanted to mention that part of the reason I’m writing this (Besides knowing these guys have got to have stories together hence why I created this blog!!) is because I don’t think there are enough SUPERWHOLOCK stories!! So if yall write superwholock let me know!

Hastalabyebye

write to you next time

-Superwholockian

The pictures totally don’t fit the story, but it’s too late to change them now. lol. Sorry. *runs away* 

Technical Difficulties by nightliferogue 


The camera shook as Adam waited, his smile wide as he heard Elias swearing even as only his feet could be seen.

 “Elias?”

 He was startled when Elias leaned in close to the screen, “I dropped the phone.”

 Adam laughed, “I guessed as much, but what is it that you were attempting?”

 Elias frowned, “The phone needs to be properly mounted so you can see me and I you. This is important, you know that.“

 Adam settled back in bed, tablet in front of him as he saw Elias trying to shift more. "I knew I should’ve bought you a bloody iPad.”

 Elias huffed, “This is fine. Don’t be stupid or I’ll hang up.”

 Adam grinned, feeling warmer now with Elias in his view. It had been weeks since he’d left to go home, and Adam was almost certainly going mad attempting sex with anyone else. It didn’t feel the same, didn’t arouse him the same, and the longer Elias wasn’t here the more likely Adam would be jerking off into his hand thinking of him.

 He shifted, his cock already growing harder as he watched Elias remove his shirt.

 "How has the island been? Any,“ Adam sighed seeing his chest, "Recent additions?”

 Elias shifted again and he was wearing his hideous old man boxer shorts, the sight making Adam unnaturally aroused.

 "Gabriel’s wife, her cousin is here and wants me very much. Twice now she’s come in while I showered.“

 Adam bristled, not knowing how much of that was true and how much made up to impress him. "You fuck her?”

 Elias looked away, his hand suddenly on his belly, “No, I don’t have sex with ugly people. She is very ugly.”

 Adam smiled. “Oh, well that’s unfortunate.”

Elias’s hand came lower, palming over his clothed cock as he grunted, “I want to see you. Show me.”

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A Swerve Review [1,536 Words]

Honestly, I feel like a right saddo writing this. I mean, there’s the nerd and then there’s the nerd who goes too far but, seriously I wanna talk about Swerve!! In particular, Swerve as a character and his character traits and all the things we’ve already talked about before, but I want to be the one to make the lame, Swerve-centric master post highlighting a lot of this minibot’s faults and woe. I want to talk about the fact that, out of all the other sob stories we’ve encountered in MTMTE, e.g Quark, Fortress Maximus, Trailcutter, Swerve has been the character to upset me the most. I have lost sleep agonising over Swerve.

As opposed to popular belief Swerve is not…

…he is not the idol of millions. Unlike Rodimus who, believes his hype, Swerve seems very aware of his flaws and has either just accepted himself or is a victim of making the same mistakes over and over. How many times have you said something you regret, or done something that’s drawn a lot of negative attention and then, later while lying awake at night repeated a mantra of ‘I am never being so dumb again!’ only to have a repeat of the incident a few weeks/months down the line?

Yeah, me too.

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“You don’t want me” - IronFalcon

So… this started out as a harmless Headcanon, just a silly idea… and it ended as a 4k Fanfiction.

Entirely written for and dedicated to @bloody-bee-tea. I hope you enjoy this, Danni<3

[Basically, this is a SamTony Fuckbuddies/ friends with benefits!AU, but they will eventually become lovers.]


In all honesty, Sam didn’t know why he was doing this.

He was far too sober to pretend the alcohol made him feel less restrained, less able to judge the situation right.

He knew exactly what was going to happen and he allowed it nonetheless.

So when Tony leaned over, one hand gently cupping Sam’s cheek to turn his head just right, when they got closer and it all felt like it was happening in slow motion – Sam didn’t resist.

In the next moment, lips pressed against his own, slightly chapped, slightly rough but warm and gentle and so, so good.

Sam sighed into the kiss, fingers automatically coming up to grab at Stark’s shirt and pulling him closer.

It all went so easily, Sam didn’t think for a second to stop it.

He didn’t think about why Tony was suddenly kissing him. He didn’t bother trying to figure out why Tony would need this kind of intimacy when he supposedly had Pepper.

Sam only let himself be kissed and lost himself in the moment, the alcohol just enough to intensify the arousal pulsating through his body.

He felt a hand sneaking under his shirt, warm fingers directly on his chest and hummed. He tugged at Tony’s shirt and leaned back at the same time, pulling the genius along and on top of him. However, Tony pulled back at that, a grin on his face that sent tingles through Sam.

“Bed?”, he asked against Sam’s lips.

“Bed”, he agreed.

————-

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Costume Contest

“I’m here to enter the costume contest,” Cat Noir announced with a cheeky grin.

The woman sitting in front of him looked less impressed than he’d expected, “Name?”

“Cat Noir,” he grinned, “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yes, sir, I see the costume,” she responded with a disgruntled sigh, “I need your name. Your…” She grimaced, as though she’d said the line more times today than she’d like to admit, “Your secret identity.”

His grin faded a little, “No, you don’t understand. I’m the real Cat Noir.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll just put you down as Real Cat Noir #16.” She handed him a number and waved him away, too tired to argue.

He accepted it, pressing the sticker to his chest with a shrug. At least he knew his fans were devoted. And outnumbered, he realized as he glanced around to see nearly four Ladybug costumes for each Cat Noir costume. Well, he couldn’t argue with their taste, he thought with a small smile. He’d considered a Ladybug costume himself, but in the end, he couldn’t resist the allure of wandering around as Cat Noir for an entire day with no akuma to fight.

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Coffee and Butterflies

Prompt: Write a story in which a broken coffee maker has a huge impact on the world around it. Kurt and Blaine meet in a situation without any caffeine.

Sometimes people don’t appreciate the smaller things in life.
You know, the colour of the sky, the frequency of the subway, the endless supply of coffee at Starbucks.

It doesn’t make us bad people. On the contrary, it just makes us human. We rush, we scurry and we take the consistencies of our life in our stride as we rush for said subway.

And it just so happened that today Kurt Hummel was mid rush hour stride.

**

Kurt Hummel was one for punctuality. Punctuality and preciseness. Which is why it was a pain in the ass that he woke up thirty minutes late and had to completely forgo his rigorous skin routine to even get a shot at getting to work on time.

The one thing that Kurt Hummel could never forgo was his coffee.

Never.

“Shit” He murmured as he promptly walked out of his apartment complex and straight into a puddle. The fates clearly didn’t like him today. Messy hair, a wet ankle and serious case of dry skin. Yup, he seriously needed his coffee. Pronto.

**

In a slight run-gallop that Rachel had told him to adopt as it made him look (and quote) “like a real New Yorker with a mission rather than a lost Lima native” – god, he really needed to call her. Kurt headed for the coffee shop on the next block.

If he could get in and out within seventy-five seconds, he could make the subway, and Isabelle wouldn’t clock that he was that late.

Oh shit.

As if there was a line coming out of the store. Just his fucking luck.

I cannot stress enough that Kurt Hummel needed his coffee. In a winter harsher than his old bullies at McKinley, his coffee was the one constant safety blanket against the world. 55 seconds, shit. Think, Kurt, Think.

Didn’t he go on a date once with that barista? What was his name, Karl? Kevin? Ken?

It was worth a shot. He needed caffeine if he was going to face the music because Kurt Hummel was definitely going to be late and he might as well have his coffee settle him.

Pushing, shoving and glaring his way through the crowd, Kurt managed to get to the cash registers.
“Kevin!” Kurt called out above the groans of the other customers. Kevin’s warm smile greeted him, “Hey Kurt!”

“I needed to be at work like ten minutes ago, is there any way you can help me out?”  Kurt pleaded in his most persuasive, flirtatious manner. At this point, he needed to get his coffee by any means necessary.

“Kurt, I dunno, man, we’re rammed.” Kevin replied looking genuinely saddened.
“Please Kevin!” Kurt pined, batting his ashes. Don’t judge, you would have done the same if you needed a Grande Non Fat Mocha.

Sighing, Kevin relented. Kurt Hummel was going to get his coffee.

Maybe he day was looking up. Maybe the fates felt bad for subjecting him to a full day of dry skin.

And then. A tut.

A click of someone’s tongue came from behind him. And a biting annoyed whisper of “Typical.”

Now hold up. Kurt turned on his heels, his venom ready.

“Excuse me?” Kurt looked at the person behind, slightly shorted, a helmet of gelled hair glued to his skull, handsome. Don’t think like that Kurt. Game face on.

The man looked up, his eyelashes fluttering up beautifully.

“What?” He innocently replied.

“I would have thought that you would have had manners to not tut in public and someone you don’t know. Do you have any idea how rude that was?”

“Well, to be fair, you did push in.”

Taken aback, Kurt looked at the guy, who the hell did this jerk think he was, “Alright buddy, just calm it. You didn’t have to be rude about it.”

“Yeah, and you didn’t have to flirt to get ahead of everyone else.”

“Excuse me”

“You heard me, you can’t play the slut card to get quicker coffee.”

All of a sudden, they were both taken aback as if they both knew what barrier had been crossed. Suddenly, Kurt’s tongue was stuck in his throat and the man looked as if he was summoning up the courage for a possibly apology when…

“Were sorry guys, the coffee machines gone bust, we can’t fulfil any existing orders or take any more. Cold drinks and food only” A voice boomed over the café.
Well shit.

Kurt needed to get out. As fast as his feet would take him, he sped out of the Starbucks to get air to fill his lungs. To breathe something in. He breathed and breathed and breathed and he still felt like he was suffocating.

And that was when Kurt Hummel became a New Yorker. He cried for the first time in New York outside that Starbucks. He sat on the pavement outside and took a moment to accept that this was not his day and focused on breathing in and out, in and out. What did that guy know? Why did the Universe decide that everything was going to fuck up today? Oh and look, he was definitely late, the Universe would probably get work to put him on probation knowing his luck today and oh god he was gonna miss that big meeting with Isabelle about the Fall Lin-

“Are you okay?” A voice tenderly asked.

Broken from his whirlpool of thought, Kurt whipped his head around and saw the guy he was arguing with earlier. Wiping away his tears, he nodded hysterically as if the number of nods would guarantee that his day would get better.

“C-Can I?” The guy asked, gesturing to joining him on the icy pavement.

Another nod.

“Look, I’m really sorry I called you a slut, I honestly didn’t mean it, at all. Heck, I don’t know you in the slightest and I was just having a really awful morning” The guy explained “and honestly, you seem lovely, you don’t deserve to be crying out a Starbucks of all places. A Peets Coffee maybe, but definitely not Starbucks.” The guy joked, trying to clear the air of the unspoken tension.

And then something happened. Kurt laughed. Not a belly laugh he might have enjoyed the night before but that sort of laughy-cry chuckle that happens when your throat has closed up from weeping and you start to realise that everything is going to be okay. The guy joined the chuckle. All of a sudden, Kurt’s morning felt and hell of a lot less lonely.

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed in and flirted my way for a coffee.” Kurt admitted “Or hypothetical coffee even. I’ve just had the worst morning and I just lost all reminisce of logic and cool and I can’t believe I’m crying in public, oh my god.”  Kurt wiped away his tears with his blazer sleeve, oh god, it was Burberry as well, could this day be worse?

“Burberry?” The guy asked.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“What can I say, I have a good eye.”

That’s nothing the only good thing you have, Kurt thought.

“Kurt Hummel. Very sorry for pushing in.” He offered his hand to the stranger.

“Blaine Anderson. Also very sorry for accidentally slut shaming you in a public place.” He shook Kurts hand and suddenly, Kurt didn’t feel that lonely at all.  “Look, I am really sorry. I guess we both had two really bad days and we just met at the wrong time but I want to make amends. Can I make it up to you by buying you a cup of coffee maybe?”

Kurt sniffed and nodded.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

A huge grin swept across of Blaine’s face and the two new friends found themselves strolling to another Starbucks somewhere and Kurt didn’t even care that he forgot to moisturise or even that he was unbelievably late for work. And this was because Kurt Hummel’s day was looking up.

**
Sometimes people don’t appreciate the smaller things in life.

Kurt Hummel definitely appreciated the way that Blaine Anderson paid for his coffee and made a list about all of the slutty things that he had done in his life to prove that Kurt definitely wasn’t a slut. He also appreciated that Blaine wrote his number on Kurt’s napkin.

Kurt Hummel had messy hair, a moist ankle and a serious case of dry skin but his stomach was also filled with coffee and butterflies.

i-need-a-good-username  asked:

Okay, I'm a sucker for shy couple DaiSuga ;w;

It’s a little bit silly. And the thing is, Suga knows. But on the Monday that they get back to school after That Weekend, the two of them are…a bit awkward. 

That Weekend where they spent the entirety of Saturday together, laughing and smiling and being. That Weekend, when they’d gone walking through the forest while talking about tiny inconsequential things in their lives, but it had made Suga happy because it had been their lives. That Weekend, when Daichi said “…I kinda like you…do you want to go out?” while his eyes had been firm on Suga’s and so hopeful that all Suga had been able to do was hug him, speechless. 

Yeah. That Weekend. 

And now they’re headed to Toyko for another training camp with Nekoma, and things are a bit weird. It’s stupid, stupid, stupid, but now when their legs brush together on the bus the two of them spring apart. Their hands brush when they both reach for the same bag as they unload their luggage upon arrival, and Suga’s heart goes all stupid full and scrambly, and all together implodes when Daichi sends a shy smile his way. 

It’s silly (but when has Suga ever been able to be sensible around Daichi?). It’s silly that they’re like this, after being best friends for so long. They used to touch all the time, but now, it all means something else, doesn’t it? 

Now when they play, it’s like electricity when Daichi clutches Suga’s arm after Suga wins the point with his serve. Like fire in his veins and his giddy heart when there’s a simple high five.

(He sends his best Vice-Captain glare in Nishinoya’s direction when he catches the libero’s smirk.)

And when they win—oh, when they win. It’s nothing more or less than a practice match, but when Daichi walks back to him after putting away the final point, all radiant smiles and brilliant pride, Suga wants to hug him, hold him, kiss him. 

But then they shuffle their feet and smile shyly at the ground, and all Suga manages is “good job, Captain”, and somehow, a tentative squeeze of Daichi’s hand after he works up the courage to grab it.  

Daichi gives him a heart-melting smile, all teeth and no reservation.
Flaming red—that smile should be illegal—Suga immediately lets go of his hand under the pretence of stopping Kageyama from strangling Tsukishima.

After dinner, they all lounge around in the common room, sprawled over the couch and the worn floors as they watch some movie. Suga has no idea what the movie is because the warm body next to his is far too distracting, and even Yaku laughing so hard that he kicked Hinata in the head can’t make him not notice how Daichi just radiates warmth next to him, his solid presence comforting and something like home. 

Their hands brush as they reach for the popcorn bowl for the same time, and Suga jerks his hand back. Heart pounding, he sits up straighter, chancing a glance at Daichi, who’s looking forward very intently. Suga wants nothing more than to shuffle close and just bury himself in his…boyfriend? But he doesn’t want to make this uncomfortable or awkward (never mind that it already is). What is it’s going too fast for Daichi? What is he doesn’t want physical affection, and Suga would never want to make things— 

“For fuck’s sake,” Kuroo mutters, and then he marches behind the couch that they’re sitting on. For a moment, Suga thinks he’s going to yell at one of his underclassmen, but then his hand is on Suga’s head and he shoves. Suga lets out a yelp as his head forcibly meets Daichi’s shoulder, even as his heart skips a beat. 

“Kuroo, what the—”

“Nope,” Kuroo says immediately, when Suga tries to get back up. Stubborn jerk is strong, and his hand keeps Suga’s head in place. “Stay. Stay,” he says firmly, as though he’s talking to a rather excitable puppy. 

Suga’s going to murder him. 

But it is…nice. Daichi stiffened next to him at first contact, but he’s gradually relaxing, and it’s…good, like this. He can feel Daichi’s rhythm, the gentle rise and fall of his shoulder that matches his breath, and he’s warm, and solid, and so real. Suga’s heart is pounding, but it’s good—all of it is good, because…

“Daichi?” he asks, and swallows. He still hasn’t moved. “This…okay?”

Suga’s heart honest-to-god skips a beat when Daichi shifts, and his hand settles around Suga’s waist. It’s beautiful. Angels could weep over the feeling of Daichi’s strong palm pressed against Suga’s thin sweater. 

“Um…yeah.” Daichi clears his throat. “S’good,” he says weakly. 

And it is. 

For the rest of the movie, there are little kissy noises coming from a certain volleyball captain, and not the one that he has pressed up so lovely and warm against him. So Suga’s still going to maim Kuroo later, but for now he just ignores the quite snickering, and relaxes in the warmth of Daichi’s arms.

Is It Big?


   

P.O SMUT

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!


   You giggled as you scrolled down the page. Pictures of your boyfriend, also one of the members in Block B, filled the page. There were many different ones such as their Nalina Era, Nillili Mambo and so on. 

    You had just searched out of boredom. He had a schedule for today leaving you all alone in your apartment. Jihoon still lived with his teammates but his free time was mostly spent with you. 

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