and the way she enunciates each word

anonymous asked:

Floof scenario with Todoroki and his smol s/o???? All the sugary, teeth rotting, cotton candy mess you have~~~

Originally posted by kirei-na-jinsei

 Insecure Todoroki > everything else. this took forever and it sucked i am so sorry anon~Admin K

  ‘Todoroki Shouto. Todoroki. Shou? Todo. No… Hmm, let’s see… Todoroki. To-do-ro-ki. Roki? Roki. Yeah, that sounds okay. Roki. Roki. Roki—’

    “___,” Todoroki said loudly next to her, bringing ___ out of her thoughts. She blinked, shaking the thoughts from her head like rain off of an umbrella. Finding a cute nickname for Todoroki would have to wait. The noise of the people in the lunch room suddenly seemed much louder than it had before.

   “Yes, Roki?”


    “I said: ‘yes, Todoroki,’” ___ corrected herself quickly.

    “Oh, sorry I must not have heard you. Anyway…” he started talking to her about something as he sat down across from her. She listened intently, focused on the mesmerizing way his mouth worked. ___ liked the way Todoroki’s lips moved when he spoke. They hardly did, and yet his words were always clearly enunciated. ___ felt the just barely controllable urge to run her fingers through his hair. She resisted that temptation.

    Although technically, ___ was allowed to do that now.

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Be More Chill Deaf AU

Ok Jeremy, it’s no big deal. He’s just your best friend. Your best friend that you have a crush on? Fuck. Ok ok, you’re fine. Just go up to him and tell him how you feel. It’s fine.

Jeremy massaged his left hand with his right thumb, a nervous tick he had formed from his anxiety over talking to people. It never happened when he wanted to talk to Michael, yet here he was, rubbing his palm in a soothing circular motion as he tried to steady his breathing.

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All of You - Part 2 (Dad, This is Daryl) | (Part 1) | (Part 3) (Part 4)

Daryl x Reader Smut Warning! 18+ Only! NSFW

Summary: As requested, here is part 2. Post-Negan era smut piece. The reader (Negan’s Daughter) convinces Negan to allow Daryl to be her bodyguard while he is away in Alexandria for a few days. Smut and romance ensue. When Negan returns, he finds out that they are sleeping together and loses his shit.


You awoke the morning after your close encounter with Daryl, you awoke feeling wonderfully satisfied, yet hungry for more of him. You could taste his lips on yours and your hands roamed your body, in bed, wishing they were his. You felt them wander lower and lower down your stomach and grip your hips roughly, moving over to touch yourself, thinking of how fucking good he was to you last night.

There was a sudden pounding on your door and you grunted.

“What?!” You scream out, frustrated.

“Y/N. I gotta talk to you, wake the fuck up and open the door!” Negan yelled from behind the wooden door.

You grumpily threw the blankets off you and walked to the door, unlocking it and opening it harshly.

“What?? Can’t a girl get any fucking sleep around here?” You cried out, disgruntled.

“Shit, Y/N. It the fucking apocalypse, no one gets any fucking sleep.” He said playfully and sauntered into your room, making himself completely at home.

He wandered over to a small two person table you had set up in the big space, next to a big window that overlooked the gates of The Sanctuary, and beyond it sweet heavenly freedom. Your father sat down on one of the chairs and gestured for you to do the same. You plop back down onto your bed and stare at him from across the room, awaiting whatever the hell it was that was so damn important.

“I have to go to Alexandria for a few days…. Don’t know how long I will be gone. You gonna be okay here for a little while without me?” He asked with a hint of both concern and sarcasm.

I scoffed at him and smirked. “Yeah, I’m sure I can handle it, dad.”

“If any of those fuckers give you a hard time….” Negan says with a low voice and reaches for something tucked behind his back.

You see him pull out a small automatic handgun, pointing it sideways at you, nodding, and setting it on the table beside him.

Your father had been a big believer in self-protection for his little girl, even before the world went to shit. He took her to martial arts training as a child, self-defense classes, and eventually the shooting range. There was no doubt that Y/N could handle herself in combat if she had to. But Negan was also aware that here she was highly outnumbered and he wanted her to be safe.

Suddenly, Y/N got an idea, a way to use this concern to her advantage. She changed her demeanor and put a slightly worried look on her voice, nodding solemnly to her father.

“Actually Dad, I know how worried you get, me all alone with all those pigs who could easily overpower me.” You lean forward and put your face in your hands, rubbing the sides of your face.

You look up at him with curiosity, “Do you think, there would be anyway you could get me a bodyguard? Someone to make sure no one bothers me while you are gone? … I know I talk a tough game, but sometimes I do get a little nervous.”

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Heaven only knows what goes on behind closed doors

A/N: OH WOW IT’S BEEN SO LONG HASN’T IT?? i’ve decided to write it in taron’s POV and I’m telling you this one here is gonna be full of sex. A tiny bit of fluff on the side, it’s hardly noticeable but it will still lead you to sex haha and it contains a slash smut, not going into details so prepare your bibles because it’s about to get dirty

Taron’s POV

Y/N has been acting immensely weird lately. I don’t understand why. She was so clingy the past days, demanding to come with me wherever I go like on sets, on my interviews, promotions or wherever I have to be. Not that I’m complaining though, but she never leaves my side and she’ll freak out everytime I leave her sight.

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When Someone Loves You

Just a quick little story, because I have a lot of feelings after yesterday’s episode.  Here’s my take on how I’d like the revelation of Killian’s secret to go.  Tagging a few people who may be interested:. @snowbellewells  @flslp87 @laschatzi @linda8084 @hellomommanerd @kmomof4

“And I’d no idea who the unfortunate man was until your friend the puppet handed me these pages,” Killian said, voice breaking on the last word.  He dropped his eyes and sighed deeply before raising his head once more.  “Swan…I know what I did is unforgivable.  I know I’ve no right to expect your affection any longer.  I know I should have told you the sordid tale before proposing, but gods help me I…I couldn’t.  I couldn’t bear to see the joy leave your eyes.  I couldn’t bear to see your love for me shrivel up.  Just know that I have no expectations.  If you wish to return the ring I gave you, I know that it is no more than I deserve after the heinous wrong I did to your father, to your entire family.”

Killian and Emma had spent a blissful night cocooned in their love following his abrupt proposal. For a few hours, Killian nearly forgot what he’d done, what he was, but in the cold light of day, Killian knew what needed to be done.  She deserved the truth.  She deserved to know the depths of depravity reached by the man with whom she planned to spend her life.

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fuma kotaro x mc (unnamed)

a/n: i had two anons request the same prompt for kotaro, so i figured it was in high demand! so here’s number 31 from this list - “you may be an idiot… but you’re mine.” @jemchew and @demon-princess-anastasia, i’m sorry you’re both getting spammed <3

He is certain of very few things, really: he has never been bright and he has never been particularly talented, but he has come to understand that there is not a thing more precious in the world than her and the sounds of their hearts beating in time. He still makes mistakes a bit too often, and he has lost count of how many times he has seen her pretty face marred with fear and concern for him as he acts in ways she cannot understand. She cares so much for him, so terribly much — he can tell, because he feels the same for her: terribly, terribly in love.

So terribly that, at times, he cannot even think of his own safety when he comes to visit her. He can’t help that Lord Yukimura hangs at her side so often — and that his reaction is always so violent.

Obviously, however, she cares, if the pinched look on her face and the way she keeps her arms crossed is any indication.

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anonymous asked:

Complete the conversation; Claire: "have you told him yet? I mean, have you actually tried using your words?"

“Have you told him yet?” Claire plops down in the chair next to Dean. “I mean, have you actually tried using your words?” She tries to nonchalantly reach for his beer bottle, but Dean pulls it away. 

“He knows how I feel.” Dean says, glowering as he take a pull off his beer.

“Because you made him a mixtape?”

“Hey, even you said that was romantic.”

“Yeah,” Claire drawls out the word as she leans forward on the table, resting her chin in her hands, “But if he’s not… like, doing anything about it then maybe subtlety isn’t the way to go.”

“Or maybe he doesn’t feel the same way at all and I’m wasting my time,” Dean huffs bitterly. He rises from the chair and head to the kitchen for another beer. “He probably isn’t even gay.” 

Claire snorts dubiously. “You’re not gay, remember?” she points out. “And you cannot tell me that Castiel isn’t attracted to you in some way. It’s all heart-eyes when he sees you.” Dean frowns and pulls two beers from the fridge, walking back into the large open room and setting one down on the table in front of Claire. 

“Alright, smartass, what do you think I should do?”

“Use. Your. Words.” Claire gestures very deliberately as she enunciates each word. “Write him a letter, call him, corner him and tell him you’re the wind beneath his wings, send him a text with ‘less than three’, anything! Just make it clear that you want to be more than friends.” He voice rises and echoes against the high ceiling of the bunker and she punctuates her rant but twisting the cap of her bottle and taking a long sip. 

“Uh…” Dean leans back, a little shocked by her fervor. “I think maybe I’ll just make him another mixtape.”

“You’re impossible,” Claire groans.  

oq; (me elevas al) espacio sideral

taken from imagine_OQ on twitter: Robin learning Spanish just so he can ask out his new neighbor Regina who doesn’t speak English.

small, because i had too many ideas and want to leave it open for them. any prompts are welcome as well! and thanks to @the-alpha-incipiens and @idoltina for giving it a peek first <3

When Robin first meets her, it’s because he has her mail.

He’d seen her move in about three weeks ago. She’d spent the better part of that day hauling in boxes from a moving truck. An older man was there as well, helping her clear out the truck before he drove it off. She was beautiful, he’ll unashamedly admit, and he would’ve taken the time to go introduce himself as her new neighbor, maybe offer some help carrying the last two boxes that sat on the sidewalk to the door of her new townhouse.

But he was running late as it was to take Roland to his mother’s for the weekend, and so when he’d finally managed to drag his entourage of a cranky four-year-old and his ten-year-old nephew out the door and to his car, he couldn’t spare the woman more than an interested glance in her direction. He didn’t see her again for the rest of that week, and he spent the majority of the second week wondering what was the best way to introduce himself at her door and establish a potential new friendship, as opposed to coming off as her new, creepy neighbor. By the time he’d worked up the confidence to do so a couple of days later however, his nerves had him deciding too much time had passed for such an introduction, and he’d reluctantly squashed the idea.

But it seems fate is on Robin’s side today, when he opens the small door to his assigned mailbox and finds that one envelope with her address on it had been mistakenly placed with the rest of his mail. His eyes catch the name on the corner of the envelope: Regina Mills.

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anonymous asked:

How about Natsu wanting to kiss Lucy again after they had their first inital confession kiss but being awkward and nervous about how to initiate it?

This is a cute prompt!  Sorry that they are a little OOC and I didn’t really know how to end it, but I hope you like it!

Lucy had always imagined her first kiss being in some romantic place, maybe a field of flowers or something like that.  She imagined that it would be a ‘prince charming’ type guy, but maybe that was just her inner princess talking.  She never imagined who her first kiss would be with would actually not be prince charming, but instead, her first kiss was to the very dragon that prince would try and slay.  It wasn’t in a romantic flower field either, but Lucy was totally okay with it.  Her first kiss wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t the most romantic thing she’d ever experienced, but she knew it was with someone she cared for very much.  That person was Natsu Dragneel, part time destroyer of everything, full time best friend…  and now boyfriend?  Dragon boyfriend?  She wasn’t putting a specific name on it just yet, but she knew she was happy.  

They had been in her room, like any other normal time that Natsu climbed through her window.  Happy was not with him which wasn’t completely bazar, but it was unusual.  Then it just happened.  One minute they were talking about happenings in the guild, a new job, whatever that came up, and the next Natsu was telling her he liked her more than a friend.  What?  Lucy had been obviously shocked, but she had no trouble admitting that she reciprocated the feelings.  She didn’t say she had had those feelings long before the moment, but Natsu didn’t really need to know that.  He had told her that she had always meant so much to him; she’s his best friend and he always wanted to protect her.  He admitted that he didn’t really know what exactly he was feeling for her, it was very confusing for him.  But when he saw her putting her life on the line for him when they were at war with Zeref and the Spriggan 12, it was then that he truly understood what feelings he had for her; love.  It was in that moment that he decided that it was time to let Lucy know before it was too late.  That’s when he first kissed her, it was both of their own first kisses.

Lucy was sitting at the bar, Mira giving her a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast, when Natsu came into the guild hall.  It had been, admittedly, a bit awkward between the two since they had confessed their feelings for each other and kissed.  It had never been awkward really between the two, and Lucy was getting mildly frustrated with the whole thing.  She watched as Natsu boisterously entered the guild hall and then faltered slightly when seeing her looking at him.  It was so unlike him and it made Lucy uncomfortable.

“Hey, Natsu!  Come here!”  Mira called him; Mira had figured out the whole thing even though Lucy hadn’t wanted it to get out until her and Natsu figured out what they were actually doing.  But she had told Levy and Mira was just weirdly intuitive, but she knew that their secret was safe with the two girls.  That didn’t stop Mira from meddling however.  

Natsu slowly walked over to the bar, his eyes darting around the room nervously.  “What’s up, Mira?”

“Aren’t you going to say good morning to Lucy as well?”  

“O-oh, yeah…  Hey, Luce.”  Natsu laughed a bit while running a hand through his hair.

“Hey.”  Lucy responded, unsure what else to say.  “Um, are you gonna get some breakfast as well?”

“Y-y’know, I’m really not too hungry right now…  I’ll come back later.  See you guys!”  Natsu suddenly burst out and darted out the guild hall doors.  Lucy sighed and Mira tutted in disapproval.

“This has been happening ever since.”  Lucy grumbled.  “That’s it, I’ll be back, Mira!”  With that, Lucy jumped out of her seat and out the doors after Natsu.  The warm air of summer hit her face and Lucy blinked against the bright sun.  Luckily, Natsu hadn’t gotten too far, he actually hadn’t gone really anywhere.  He was sitting under one of the trees off to the side of the guild.  It wasn’t exactly secluded, but it was a quiet place to sit and relax.  Lucy often sat out there and read books that Levy had leant her.

“Natsu!  Hey, Natsu!”  Lucy called and his head whipped around as if he thought that she wouldn’t find him sitting in plain sight.

“Lucy?”  Lucy tried her best not to stomp over to him, but when she reached him, she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a hard look.

“Okay, I think we should talk.”  Lucy declared.  She wasn’t going to be hard on him, it was all new to both of them, but she certainly wasn’t going to just wait around for something to happen.  If she did that, nothing else would happen.

“Okay.”  Natsu swallowed hard and shifted his gaze to her as she sat down next to him.  “’Bout what?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious, Natsu.”  Lucy sighed.  “You’ve been acting really weird lately!  I’m starting to feel like you didn’t mean what you said…”  Natsu’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What?  Of course I meant what I said to you!  I just don’t know what to do…”  Natsu admitted breathing out a deep sigh.

“What do you mean?”

“I just really, really want to…” Natsu trailed off, pink tinting his cheeks.

“What do you want to do?”  Lucy questioned, perplexed.  “I just want everything to be normal again.  If you meant everything, then just be Natsu, okay?”  She smiled at him and he seemed to relax a bit.

“Agh, I know!  I’m sorry, it’s just, ugh-!”  Natsu dug his fingers into the ground beneath him in frustration.  “I don’t know what to do…”

“Natsu, what do you mean?  You’re driving me crazy!”

“You’re driving me crazy!  All I want to do is- ah!  This is so argh!”  Natsu groaned.  He had always been a poet with words…  

“What.  Do.  You.  Want?”  Lucy enunciated each word, quickly losing her patience.

“You!  I want you, I just-!”  Suddenly, Natsu grabbed Lucy a bit rougher than she would have liked, and pulled her over to him, and placing his hands on either side of her face.  He kissed her roughly and as if he were starving.  His mouth moved on hers in an inexperienced, but good way, and Lucy returned it just as enthusiastically.  It was a great feeling to finally have some contact with Natsu, Lucy had felt her body physically and mentally craving him.  He pulled away for a moment to look at her, his pupils dilated, and his breathing heavy.

“That, that’s what I’ve been wanting to do again.”

“You’ve been acting so weird just because you wanted to kiss me?” Lucy was floored.  She then burst into laughter at how purely adorable Natsu was.  “That’s so cute, Natsu, you can kiss me anytime you want to.  That’s what a relationship kind of entails.”

“Wait, we grow tails?”  Natsu looked at her confusedly and Lucy rolled her eyes.  “But that’s so awesome, what the hell?  I can just kiss you whenever?  That’s so cool!”  Natsu laughed and then pulled her in for another quick but passionate kiss.

“There is a time and place for everything though.”  Lucy warned him, smiling against his lips.

“Sorry for being so weird.  You’re supposed to be the weirdo.” Natsu grinned sheepishly and Lucy giggled.  Her gaze drifted from Natsu and to one of the guild windows that faced the tree they were under.  The entirety of the guild was staring out at them, some cheering, some laughing, Erza looked pissed for not being in the know, but she had strawberry cake.

“Oh my god…”  Lucy shook her head, covering her face in embarrassment. 

“Assholes.  I’m gonna give them something to look at.” Natsu lifted Lucy up onto his lap, ignoring her protests, and found her lips with his again.  His kiss was fervent and passionate.  “Mm, we’ll have to practice more.”  Natsu growled, he had made a complete three sixty from the nervous Natsu he had been for weeks.

“Natsu!  Time and place!”  Lucy finally broke away, protesting, but she smiled at him slightly.  She was going to love their practice.  Natsu guffawed as the displeased faces of their guild mates disappeared from the windows; Gray holding a hand over his mouth.

“I guess everyone knows now.”

“I’m okay with it if you’re okay.  I am the one who gets to kiss you all the time.”  Natsu grinned again and Lucy rolled her eyes affectionately.

“Yeah, I guess that’s pretty nice.” Lucy laughed and rested her forehead on Natsu’s feeling satisfied and loved.

Little Mouse ~Smutty September~

Prompt: Make a fiction with the Kai AU, (I decided to add smut.)

Pairing: Kai x Reader

Warning: Just some smut with Kai Parker. TAGGED: @smileybear17 @geminioriginalsimagines @khadija456fire @sapphire2489 @yui-miyuka @xrevupthisharleyx

Word Count: 1k(I think)

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teddyduchess  asked:

jon x sansa black pretty please! jon as assassin would be hot damn.

Mhmmm, Jon as an assassin, yes. But okay, this is probably not what you wanted because there’s a considerable lack of action. I still hope you like it! 

Tagging @manbunjon​ because you also asked for black. 

There were two factions to the League: spies and assassins. As the bastard son of a Targaryen, Jon had been expected to follow the path of spies. They are born from wealth and privilege, with exceptional good looks and charm that cannot be taught. It was the logical next step. But Jon hadn’t always been a Targaryen. He’d been a Snow first; poor and forgotten by the system. He grew up with a chip on his shoulder and a knack for going unseen. When his mother died and Rhaegar Targaryen showed up in his life, Jon immediately gravitated towards the assassins. They’re fighters. Spies are liars. He may live the life of a criminal, but assassins had a code of honour that Jon could respect.

Unlike his half-siblings, who respect nothing, but themselves.

“Brother,” Aegon greets, once he rounds the corner and spots Jon. His smile is tight-lipped, verging on a sneer, but to anyone else, it would appear polite, maybe even fond. Jon knows better. After seven years with the League, he can read the Targaryens like a book.

Aegon comes to a stop in front of him. “You aren’t going to dinner dressed like that, are you?”

This is a conversation Jon’s had far too many times and one he is growing weary of. “I’m wearing what I always wear.” The League may see him as a Targaryen, but he’s a Snow through and through. They didn’t raise him. His mother did.

“Yes, unfortunately I am all too aware of how you dress,” Aegon continues, his facade faltering to give way to a distasteful frown. “But tonight is important for the League. You surely own something… better.”

Jon grits his teeth. Aegon knows the assassins live their life free from most material possessions. It’s in their culture to denounce them so that they won’t be swayed in the future by victims who try to bargain for their lives. He knows this, yet he still treats Jon as poor and uncultured. It shouldn’t bother him; he’s used to being the bastard, but it does.

“Leave Jon alone, Aegon,” Rhaenys interrupts just in time. Her long blonde hair is plaited down one side and she’s wearing a form-fitting red dress. “And go powder your nose.”

Aegon huffs, but walks away nonetheless. Rhaenys is next in line to lead the League after Rhaegar dies and anything she says is law. Thankfully, his half-sister is much more tolerable, and she dislikes Aegon nearly as much as Jon.

“My brother is a prick, isn’t he?” she sighs, before turning her gaze onto Jon. “But he is right, you have to change. I know father tailored you a tux.”

He doesn’t try to hide his groan. He hates dressing up.

Rhaenys looks at him with a bemused smirk. “You will grow to enjoy it eventually, Jon.”

“I won’t have to.”

“You will,” she says. “Do you think the League will go to Aegon if both father and I die?” She laughs loudly, the sound echoing in the narrow stone corridor. “Please; this place would be driven to ruins if it was up to that idiot. No, you will by my second-in-command once I take over.”

Jon blinks, unable to fully comprehend what she’s saying. It’s honestly the last thing he ever expected, which is why he blurts out the first thing to come to mind, “you don’t even like me.”

His half-sister laughs again. “I don’t like anyone, Jon. Don’t take it personally.” With those last words, she leaves him, disappearing down another bend in the corridor.

The League has become his home over the past seven years – from the dilapidated castle to the ragtag group of men and women he serves with. But he never thought he would one day have to lead this place. It had never been a dream of his. In fact, he doesn’t really know what he wants for the future. He doesn’t like to think about it often because it means facing who he is and what he’s done, and that person doesn’t deserve a future.

Jon rubs his eyes and returns back to where he came from to change into the tux. He hates it – hates the way it feels like he’s suffocating from the falseness of it all – but whatever tonight is, he has to attend and pretend he’s much more charming than he is. Even Tormund is more appealing than Jon, but in a way that you’d watch a bear dance in a circus – with abject horror and fascination.

The grand hall is decorated in golds and whites. The torches fastened to the stone walls flicker amber light across every corner of the room. Dinner is being served on a long table at the opposite end where Jon can see guests are already milling about chatting to one another. He’s been to his fair share of dinner parties over the years, but something about tonight feels more important. Aegon, for one, is actually smiling and joking with the people around him, and that’s always a sign of some impending doom.

“Jon!” his father booms, and suddenly several pairs of eyes are on him, as he begrudgingly makes his way over to Rhaegar and the group of people he’s with. “This is my son. He’s –”

“Lyanna’s boy,” someone finishes, a mixture of awe and bewilderment in his voice. Jon immediately glances towards the man, frowning as soon as he catches sight of dark hair and grey eyes. He knows those eyes. But how?

“You knew my mother?” Jon asks without much preamble, to Rhaegar’s irritation, but he’s an assassin, not a spy. Charm is not really in his arsenal.

“Once upon a time,” the man says sadly. “We grew up together. She was a dear friend to our family until –” He stops himself, glancing surreptitiously at Rhaegar, before smiling wide. “Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Eddard Stark, but you can call me Ned. This is my family.”

He gestures to the people beside him, and suddenly Jon is very aware that they’re all staring at him with a mixture of fascination and wariness in their eyes.

“This is my wife, Catelyn.” Wariness. “My sons, Robb, Rickon and Bran.” Fascination. “My youngest daughter, Arya.” Boredom. “And – oh, there she is. That’s my eldest daughter. Sansa, come. This is Rhaegar’s son, Jon.”

Her blue eyes catch his and she rakes her gaze down Jon’s body then back up again, making his neck and cheeks warm from the attention. Her lips are pursed in an impassive line, but Jon can read her too, and that was definitely appreciation. He wants to tell her, the feeling’s mutual, but all he can do is stare.

“Ah, the infamous Sansa,” his father says when Jon doesn’t speak. “I hear you are back now from Paris.”

She smiles; it’s soft and gentle, but something about it is off, and Jon doesn’t know why he thinks that, only that he’s positive he’s right.

“I am, Mr Targaryen,” she affirms. “Three years away from my family is three years too long.”

The younger sister, Arya, snorts, and one of the boys (he’s already forgotten which one’s which) elbows her none-too-subtly in the ribs.

“Please, you must call me Rhaegar!”

And so the night carries forward in this fashion. A lot of pleasantries and empty, meaningless words. Jon doesn’t get to speak to Sansa or the rest of the Starks, as he continues to be swept from one group to another by his father. He knows he doesn’t attend these functions often, so when he does, Rhaegar always takes the opportunity to show him off. It should offend him to be treated like a piece of property, but he knows it’s his father’s way of showing he’s proud of what Jon’s accomplished within the League. And it’s honestly so stupid to crave the approval of a man who had never been there for Jon during his childhood, but it’s hard not to let himself get swept up in it too.

He has finally managed to extricate himself from a very handsy older woman, and slips away from the crowd to find refuge in the corner by the refreshments. He’s nursing his whiskey when someone sidles up beside him.

“I hate these things.”

Jon doesn’t turn, so much as he glances through his peripheral at the copper-haired woman in that sinfully tight emerald green dress. Her hair is swept up in one of those intricate updos and her lips are painted hot red. She looks like the type of person who would fit seamlessly into these kind of parties.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“I did once,” Sansa admits quietly, angling her body so she’s looking at him now. “Getting dressed up, being told you’re beautiful and dancing with handsome men? What girl wouldn’t like that?” She laughs a little sardonically. “I realised a while later that it’s all an illusion. False words for naive little girls.”

“I can’t imagine you naive either.”

“Then you’re pretty awful at reading people, Jon Targaryen,” she teases. “I thought spies were supposed to be observant.”

He snorts before he can stop himself. “It’s Jon Snow. And I’m not a spy.”

This surprises her and she furrows her brows as she studies him. “You’re not?”

“I’m not…” He should probably try to impress her considering who she is and the kind of family she comes from, but the thought of lying to her doesn’t sit right either. “I don’t really like this. Any of it. Being dressed up and talking to people I don’t know.”

Sansa giggles, and Jon’s heart stutters a little at the sound. “I couldn’t tell. So does that mean you’re…”

“An assassin,” he finishes for her, feeling his chest tighten in a different way. He normally never has to tell girls about what he does, but everyone in this room already knows, so there’s no point in lying about it.

“An assassin,” she repeats, taking her time to enunciate each syllable, as if she’s testing out the word on her tongue. “Does it not bother you to… you know?”

Jon looks away. He can’t answer her question while looking in her earnest blue eyes, and it pains him to be who he is and stand next to someone as beautiful and innocent as her. “Most of us do. But it’s a cross we all bear.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Because we have to,” he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “The law doesn’t actually protect people anymore. If it ever did.”

Sansa nods, and then much to his own surprise, she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Jon.”

He wills his breathing to calm, as he says, “you don’t even know me.”

“No, but I know people,” she tells him. “I know a good man from a bad man, and you’re good.”

It’s hard for him to fully comprehend her words – harder even to really take her in – but he tries to. He so desperately wants to. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she says, giggling again when he takes her hand and leads her swiftly out of the grand hall.

They race down the empty corridors, up the spiral staircase and stumble out, laughing, onto the roof. The air is frigid in spite of it being mid April, but the days are growing longer and at eight o’clock, the sky is dusky, streaks of pink and purple light disappearing into an endless canvas of navy. It’s beautiful.

“Next time, you’re carrying me,” Sansa huffs from beside him, her fingers intertwined through his, but as he glances back, she’s smiling bright and wide, so different from the way she smiled at his father. This one is genuine; it’s real, and it takes his breath away that it’s because of him.

“Am I now?” he says, grinning stupidly back at her.

“Yes! You try running in heels, Jon Snow!” Sansa tries to look indignant, but when he tugs her closer, the smile returns.

“You’re beautiful,” Jon tells her without thinking. Once the words leave his mouth, he flushes. “I know you don’t place a lot of trust in those words anymore, but… God, you’re bloody beautiful, Sansa.”

To his delight, she actually blushes and ducks her head. She’s adorable too, and that’s a dangerous combination.

“Do you want to dance?” she asks instead, and he has to laugh this time, because they’re standing on a rooftop, freezing, alone and without music, but he has never wanted to dance with anyone more in his life.

He wraps both arms around her waist. “I’d love to.”

As soon as they start moving, Sansa’s head drops to his shoulder, fitting perfectly into the space between his neck and shoulder. He can feel her breath tickling his skin, and for once, Jon is happy to just be.

They stay like that for a few minutes, each lost to their own thoughts, as they watch the sky slowly submerge them into darkness. But then Sansa shivers in his arms and he has to pull back to look at her face. “We should go inside.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to get pneumonia.”

Sansa rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to get pneumonia.”

“Fine then I don’t want you to get sick,” he says, matching her exasperated tone.

Jon, just shut up and kiss me.”

He freezes for a split second, watching as she raises a brow challengingly, before he comes back to himself and chuckles. When he finally kisses her, she responds instantly, tightening her arms around his neck as her fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers from her touch and that makes Sansa smile against his lips. After they pull apart, they’re both breathing heavily and leaning into one another.

“If I get pneumonia because of this, it’ll be worth it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Sansa laughs.

He is and she’s pretty much the reason why.


Originally posted by lennyscofield

Sara loved Leonard’s lips.

Not for the reasons one would assume (though she didn’t deny that held its own appeal).

She loved them because they were the softest things about him. His arm and heart were hard. His skin and words were rough. His fingers were abrasive and calloused. His clothes were thick leather and denim, chunky sweaters made of itchy wool, thermals of rough material. His gun was heavy metal and his belt had additional weapons, sharp and hard. Even his hair prickled her skin, the short strands almost like the faint stubble she sometimes felt on his chin.

Leonard had created an entire wall of rough, hard, cold, and uncomfortable between him and the rest of the world, taking it all the way to his personality. His eyes were rarely gentle, the bite to his words always present, the distancing of his emotions and expressions second nature. He’d spent his life matching the physical walls, to protect him.

But he couldn’t hide his lips.

Even when he said cruel things, his lips carefully crafted the words, surrounding and embracing each syllable with overly enunciated effort. When he hid his feelings behind his a perfected grin, it was with the help of a gentle curve of his mouth. When he couldn’t voice the same words Sara did in the middle of the night, she could feel the way his lips pressed into her skin, mouthing the things he couldn’t say aloud. When she hated some of the things he did say, she saw the way the corners pulled down, apologetic for hurting her, even as he made it clear she needed to hear the truth. His fingers might hold her too hard sometimes, his teeth might scrape her skin, but his lips always caressed and worshipped.

They were soft, gentle, and caring. They were the most honest things about him. The only thing he couldn’t hide or lie about.

Sara loved Leonard’s lips.

Burnt Toast

Sometimes breakfast is just really great. 

(Lexark smut, as per a few requests. Enjoy.)

It was Elyza’s favorite time of day, just before the sun fully rose from the horizon. It only lasted minutes but she savoured each moment with rapt attention to the changing colors of the sky. It was one of the last remaining pleasures of her past left to her and she would appreciate it for the rest of her life.

Just like she would appreciate the warm body curled into her side, staring out with beautiful green eyes at the pink and purple sky. Never before was Elyza’s attention ever distracted from the sunrise but with the love of her life in her embrace, she was split between watching two breathtaking gifts of nature.

“It’s beautiful,” Alicia murmured once the sun was fully visible.

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How EXO would handle language barriers with their crush (analysis)

I assume you mean before they begin dating? If not, I apologize but that’s how I read the request. Enjoy nonetheless!

Kris: Considering Kris is rather proficient with picking up on languages, I think a language barrier between him and his crush would be facile in shattering. Since Yifan knows four languages, obviously that showcases his interest for other dialects and cultures so I could see him going full on and actually learning the language that his interest speaks. Or at most, he would learn enough of the language to hold a steady conversation with the girl; enough for her understand and converse with him. Being the suave, cool guy he is, Kris will frequently approach the girl with random phrases in her language, effortlessly pronouncing them, only to be slightly thrown off when she responds back in her own language. 

Kai: Haha, Jongin would be adorably awkward when attempting to converse with the girl he’s interested in. With the broken sentences he can manage towards her of course. He would resort to asking close friends/acquaintances who know the language or know of someone who knows the language for some pointers. Kai wouldn’t delve as deep as Kris into learning this language, but, he would learn enough to converse with the girl, eventually asking her out in her language. He would just to know enough to maintain a steady conversation with her. He would be most shy and withdrawn while he’s attempting to speak her language to her, slowly elongating the words so not to mess up in front of her. Jongin would want her approval as to how well he’s doing! 

Suho: I can see Suho sharing his language with his crush while she teaches him some of the basics of her language This would be a great way for them both to get close to each other, while attaining knowledge on each of their respective languages. Once Joonmyun feels he’s gotten close to her, he’ll ask her out in her own language, with what he’s learned from her. He would be genuinely interested in learning her language as a way to get familiar with her. Suho would also be rather proficient in picking up on her language. When he’s really interested in something, he thrives in picking up on it (e.g: EXO showtime, when they were learning martial arts and to a lesser degree, the small talks he gave during the Exoluxion tour. I was surpassed by how good his English was!) Also, Joonmyun would want to keep his feelings for her obscured…since he would want to surprise her when he asks her out in her own language! 

Chen: Jongdae would be adorable in attempting to converse with his crush despite the vexatious language barrier that stands between them. He would teach himself all the adorkable pick up lines he can uncover in her language and approach her frequently, uttering these lines flirtatiously yet playfully to garner her amusement. He would want her to teach him all the “sayings of love” in her language for him to eventually use when he asks her out on a date. Jongdae would try his best to be genuine when learning her language, but his ultimate goal is to ask her out. “Ah~ so that’s how you say “can I see you again…good to know.”’ He may even grant her a pet name in her language just as a cute bonus. 

Sehun: Actually, I think Sehun would take a genuine interest in learning his crush’s native language not only to get to know her better, but also for his own personal interests as well. I think Sehun genuinely likes learning other languages, as evidenced when he’s practicing Chinese to himself or saying random English phrases or leaving captions on IG in Japanese. So, with this in mind, I think he would be enthralled to learn his crush’s native tongue; if anything this gives him a solid reason to investigate into the language. He would practice to himself, and once he’s attained a solid understanding of her language, he would ask her out for a date in her language, proper enunciation and confidence exuding.  

Chanyeol: He would try to make her laugh with the way he pronounces some of the words in her native language. Chanyeol would want his crush to teach him some of the basic words and maybe some greetings in her language, only to constantly repeat the word much to her amusement. He would find a word, no matter it’s definition, that fancies him and he would repeat it constantly; it would be the magic word between him and his crush. Each time he gets the chance to see her, this is what she would be greeted with: that magic word that he loves attempting to pronounce in front of her. He would try to put cohesive sentences together to try and communicate with her though. I don’t think he would go as far as learning her language, but Chanyeol may teach her a few ‘magic’ words in his language so they can exchange words together. 

Lay: Since Yixing is bilingual, knowing both Chinese and Korean, I can see him teaching himself his crush’s language for better communication. He would be able to pick up on her language, or at least the basics relativity quick. He may teach her a bit of his own language just to establish a line of communication before he officially asks her out. I can see Yixing getting a little creative in this process of learning his crush’s native tongue. He may just compose a song with lyrics in her language, coherent and heartfelt. Once he feels it’s perfected, I can see him strumming his guitar, singing the lyrics he’s composed to her softly against the soothing melody, as his way of asking her out. 

Luhan: Again, Luhan is rather proficient in learning languages so this wouldn’t be too much of an obstacle for him to overcome. I always felt that out of all the members in the China line, Luhan’s Korean was most lucid, which is just a display of his adroitness in learning languages. And with his shining charisma, convincing his crush to go out with him in her own language would hardly be an obstacle for him. Occasionally, he’ll murmur little flirtatious sayings in her own language to her when the moment presents itself. Eventually, he’ll get her alone with him while he presents a favor common in asking out someone in her culture (such as a red rose) while uttering amorous words in her language. 

Baekhyun: Somewhat similar to Chen, Baekhyun would want to learn all the “sayings of love” so he can use them on his crush, but would want her to teach him these sayings and phrases. “Teach me how to say ‘you’re beautiful’ next~” Baek would probably want to also learn romantic customs that are practiced in his crush’s homeland as an add on. He may also teach her some romantic customs that are practiced in his country just to elate her playfully. Baek would make this humorous in his own fashion and very much light hearted, eventually taking all that he’s learned from her to ask her out. I can see him going out of his way and making a sign written in her language with all sorts of romantic phrases written of the board and in the center would be the pressing question. 

Xiumin: I think Minseok’s way of overcoming the language barrier in this instance would be offering to teach the girl his own language rather than the reverse. Since Xiumin’s more of a giver, he would greatly enjoy teaching his crush all the basics of his language as a means for them to converse with each other. Xiumin would probably want to know affectionate sayings/pet names in her language so he can address her with these sayings. She wouldn’t be able to conceal her smiles with the way he addresses her as “my star,” or “my flower,” etc. If he really feels connected to his crush through teaching her his language, he’ll confess within due time. 

D.O: Kyungsoo would definitely take this to heart and would genuinely try and learn as much of his interest’s native language as possible, as he wants to make a favorable impression on her. He would learn all the basics and perhaps some intermediate things own his own time, to himself. He would study dutifully as if it were a crucial school assignment and would gladly take helpful notes on the language that will better his adeptness. Once he feels he has a steady understanding and can converse naturally in her language, I can see Kyungsoo then going out of his way to find a love song in her native language to serenade her with; to ask her out with. With his velvety voice and effective pronunciation of each word (as evidenced when he sings in English and Spanish), it would be difficult for the girl to refuse his offer. 

Tao: Like Sehun, Tao has a profound interest in other languages and cultures, as evidenced by his willingness to study Korean or his constant IG updates in English. So, Tao would take the initiative to learn the language his crush speaks as a way to properly converse with her. Through learning, he would become most engrossed in the language and the cultural aspects that accompany his learnings. He would love to learn from the girl herself, but I can also see Tao actually taking a studying session of some sort to better learn. He isn’t like Kris who I see teaching himself a language, but I see Tao thriving under a learning environment in this instance. You’ll frequently catch him memorizing all the basic sayings by repeating them to himself or taking notes diligently on his phone. He’ll approach his crush for some help in learning her language. “So how exactly would you pronounce this? …I’m learning for…school of course!”  

Be sure to send me more requests my loves. :) Our game will be coming up soon just to keep you updated. Most likely by this week(end). 


The bed

Inuyasha learns the bed he and Kagome share has a history he doesn’t like. And something needs to be done.

Placed in the Reunion AU.

Fluff, hinted NSFW (just a pinch)

3000 words.

Inuyasha was flipping channels while in his boxers late at night. Asahi was already in his room. He could perfectly hear his son talking with his toys, but that usually meant the boy was in his way to placing every toy with their ‘families’ so they could have a good night too. 

Kagome was still in the bathroom, and by the smell and soft humming she was in the midst of her nightly beauty routine.

Nothing was interesting on the tv, so he turned it off and rested on his side with direct view into the bathroom, or at least the small space the door wasn’t blocking.

His head slipped from his hand and banged into the headboard of the bed, and for the first time he paid attention to the carving. It was a beautiful scene, woods and mountains with big thick trees and scattered wolves howling.

The bed was resistant and not even once had he heard it crack. It looked like a good bed.

“OI, Kagome…” he tried, in an effort to start conversation.

An almost melodic humming sound came from the bathroom as a response.

“Where did you get this bed? It’s really sturdy…”

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Prompt: Sasuke finds out Sakura is terminally ill.

There’s nothing you can do
Someone gently says to you
The doctor says that now it won’t be long
I try and live up ‘til the moment and I hope that I don’t blow it
And what is it in me that she hears? - “Annie” - Vanessa Carlton

happy first day/week of classes to everyone going back to school!

unedited. enjoy!

He couldn’t believe it.

She said no.

Even hours after she’d left him, Sasuke found himself still aimlessly walking around the village. He looked up, realizing he just passed the same strip of shops for what must have been the fifth time, the owners watching him warily as we walked by. He frowned. He just didn’t understand. He’d gone over what had happened over and over again in his head, and yet, he still couldn’t figure out where he went wrong.

He’d asked her to meet him at the bench—their bench, really—just before she had her shift at the hospital. At the time it just seemed so fitting, so right. It was where they’d first met as teammates. It was where she’d finally confessed to him before he left the village. Granted, the memories at that bench weren’t particularly happy ones, but still, it had a history for them. It only made sense to start a new chapter there.

You told me you loved me.

Perhaps he’d acted too soon, he thought. After all, they’d only won the war three months prior. The village was still in recovery. The hospital was still full of the wounded. He was still on probation.

And yet, even with all of those reasons, none of it made sense.

During the war, you told me you loved me.

Sasuke sighed and finally threw the daffodil he’d been holding into the nearest trashcan. He rubbed his temples. Perhaps all that time they’d spent together—talking, not talking, laughing, smiling—meant more to him than it should have.

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So, its still your birthday over there, right, thetourguidebarbie? So, as requested, Your Royal Highness of Smut:

Klaus finally gets up the courage to inform Caroline that her bad habit annoys him. She scoffs and rolls her eyes and the next morning he wakes up to a stick figure drawing of him and a horse on his bedside table.

Let this fulfill your fluff quota for the day! Is it fluff though? There’s no smut so it must be fluff! Enjoy :)

“If you take this street on the right, we can hit the highway at an interchange earlier,” Caroline suggested, pointing at the road she was talking about without looking up from her phone where she had been consulting the GPS app.

“There’s more traffic on that road,” Klaus immediately rebuked.

She scoffed at his bored tone, locking and dropping her phone into her lap before peering out of the windscreen to see the constantly moving traffic in front of them. “Not at 9 in the evening,” she pointed out.

“Sweetheart, I have been driving in this area for years. I have lived here even before the roads were laid for cars. I know where I’m going,” Klaus insisted with a tired sigh, offering her a half-hearted (and slightly sarcastic) smirk when he glanced over at her.

“I never said you didn’t, just that you can cut the journey time by a couple of minutes,” Caroline said softly, placatingly, yet with an edge to words to show she wasn’t backing down from her opinion. She met his eyes with a raised brow, challenging him to argue.

Which, of course, he did. “I assure you, I will cut those couple of minutes regardless,” he said smugly, already changing the gear and speeding past the street she had wanted to take without a second look. If it wasn’t for his impeccable reactions and spacial awareness, she would be gripping onto the leather armrests of his luxury four wheel drive.

“I hate it when you over-speed,” she grumbled nonetheless, tucking her phone away into her purse and sitting back petulantly.

“And I hate it when you backseat drive,” Klaus added without missing a beat.

“Well, excuse me for trying to get home quicker so we could maybe enjoy a nice bath before bed,” Caroline huffed, stretching out her arms in front of her with an exaggerated groan as if to emphasise her need for relaxation. Like they hadn’t just spent two days away from New Orleans to go visit a witch three hours away, spending only about a tenth of their time away with him (and the rest together).

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise the the two extra minutes was a make-or-break factor for having a bath,” he retorted as he made the turn onto the highway, where he picked up the speed once again.

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated,” Caroline remarked, unconsciously curling her feet closer to the seat in reaction to the lights speeding past them as he wove in and out of the vehicles in front of them. She might trust his skills, but even the years with him  weren’t enough to take out the fear her mother had instilled in her when she had first gotten her learner’s permit. “And you’re officially uninvited from my bath.”

She pretended she didn’t see him roll his eyes in reply.

The lavender scented bubbles were on their last dregs with the water only lukewarm after the hour she had spent in the bath. It was a good thing she was impervious to feeling hot or cold because, even though her skin was slowly starting to wrinkle up at the extremities, she had no motivation to move.

Until Klaus’ voice cut through the silence, indicating his arrival back into their quarters of the house from meeting with Elijah to catch up with what had occurred in his city whilst they were away.

Caroline! How many times do I have to ask for you to keep the curtains in my studio closed whenever we leave for a few days?”

His words were tinged with clear irritation, and she could practically see him in her mind’s eye; jaw clenched and hands repeatedly furling into fists to keep himself from acting out. A small smile played on her lips at the image (he might be pissed, but it was still a hot look) as she sunk slightly more into the water.

“I must have forgotten, sorry,” she called back, not having to raise her voice much to know he would hear with both his hybrid hearing and the echo of the marble bathroom.

“Perhaps next time you can simply leave it be when I have prepared it,” Klaus muttered indignantly, the sounds of heavy velvet curtains being drawn closed with a quick whoosh and the scraping of two easels against the wooden floors providing the background to his words.

Realising she wouldn’t be getting much quiet time after that, Caroline resigned herself to ending the bath by tugging the plug out with the dexterity of her toes and savouring every last moment she could of the water as it swirled down the drain.

“It was only a couple of days, babe; surely it didn’t burn anything up in that time, right?” she replied, both defensively and in actual curiosity.

“Every second the art in the sun, it starts to fade,” he replied gruffly.

Pursing her lips at the sudden realisation of what her actions might have caused, she started to push herself out of the tub as she asked, slightly hesitantly; “Yeah, but it’s mostly your own work. Can’t you just, you know, touch it up or whatever?”

“No, Caroline, I can’t just ‘touch it up or whatever’. If I constantly kept restoring my work, I wouldn’t have time to create anything new,” Klaus answered condescendingly, a huff in his words that only made her shake her head

Wrapping the towel around her body after drying herself off, she climbed out of the tub and headed into the bedroom. “Fine, I’ll refrain from entering your studio from now on, ok?” she said in the general direction of where he was in the adjoining room.

“That’s not what I sai- You know what, never mind; do as you wish. I’ll just have to remember to check before we leave.” His tone indicated he was talking mainly to himself at the end; an endearing attribute of his which she had only discovered when she had moved in with him. She put it down to the fact that, after a thousand years, there was only so much his mind could store. The rest (the unneeded stuff) was said out loud as he thought and cast aside. “And to throw out your Diet Coke cans whenever you leave them behind… In my studio.”

Caroline had just about reached the closet when he entered the bedroom too, offending drink can (or three) in hand. Wincing at the sight of them (it was a recently addiction, which she was sure came from her attempt of trying to find an easier way to curb her vampire cravings in the city where fresh, human blood ran freely), she instead put on the most innocent face she could muster up at the look at pure annoyance on his face.

“What’s with the attitude, Klaus? You’ve been in a funk ever since we were heading back,” she asked as sweetly as she could, letting down and tousling her hair with her fingers. It was a clear-cut, tried and tested method; he fell for the ‘sweet, good-girl-next-door’ every time.

That was, when his mind wasn’t captivated on his art (or his anger towards it).

“I am not ‘in a funk’. I just need you to listen to me when I ask you to do certain things,” Klaus retorted slowly, holding her eyes with his narrowed blue ones. Biting her bottom lip to keep herself from arguing, Caroline nodded once and clutched lightly onto her towel as she continued on her way to get changed. She could hear him let out of long, heavy sigh, before uttering under his breath, “Such as this closet.”

Twirling around on her heel, she pointed a finger at him threateningly. The closet might technically be ‘theirs’ but it was her project. No-one organised like Caroline Forbes did, and if she had a walk-in closet the size of her childhood living room and kitchen put together, then so be it. And any criticism against it was a personal criticism against her.

“What’s wrong with the closet?” she asked, enunciating each word slowly and precisely.

“Must you rearrange it practically every month? Do you know how long it takes for me to find a simple top or a belt some mornings?” Klaus enquired, though she had a feeling that it was rhetorically. Mainly because she it was rare occasion when she was awake at the time he got ready.

“You could just ask me,” she replied in a haughty manner, turning around to retrieve her pajamas from the drawers which faced her side of the closet.

His footsteps were heavy yet quiet against the plush cream carpet, and she almost snapped at him to remove his dirty shoes when she spotted him doing so before she could get a word out,

“I have asked you,” he all but growled, dropping his shoes onto the floor with a thump, followed by the other before he began peeling his socks off.

“I thought you were just joking,” Caroline merely shrugged, tossing aside her towel as she pulled out a pair of clean panties and slipped them on; bending over to give Klaus a clear view of her ass.

She could feel the heat of his stare on her, yet was sorely disappointed when he remained on the other side of the chest of drawers, digging out his own pair of sleeping bottoms; frown lines still visible on his features even though his eyes had darkened considerably.

“I wasn’t,” he uttered, making her roll her eyes and pull on her own pajamas.

“Clearly,” she murmured to herself, though there were no delusions whether he would have heard it or not.

“And whilst we’re on the subject, sweetheart,” Klaus added, bare chested so she could see his toned muscles contract and move when he plucked out a top from the railing behind him. It was familiar and new; the tags were still on it and if she looked closer, she could see the same was true for the other items of clothing in the same section. “Please stop buying clothes for me and adding it to what I already have in hope I will suddenly wake up colourblind and decide to wear these monstrosities,” he spat out, cringing with the last word as he shook the top in question.

“Hey! I happen to like yellow! You would suit it; it’d make you look more relaxed,” she defended herself, placing a hand on her hip and waved the other at him from head to toe as if to prove her point. In his semi-naked form, it was hard not to see his tense stance under his smooth skin and lean form.

“Well, I do not,” he gritted out, pulling out the rest of the clothes (hangers still attached because no matter how riled up he was, they both knew he wouldn’t dare to face her wrath of crinkling the unworn and unwanted clothes). “And I don’t need to look relaxed, I need to look like me.”

“You could make yellow ‘you’ if you began wearing it,” Caroline suggested, hanging up her towel and taking a short-sleeved top out of his hands and admiring it. It had been an impulse buy on her last shopping spree (which was more or less a weekly occurance these days), having remembered how much she adored seeing her significant other in his sleeveless tops at home and not minding having more of it on a daily basis. “This is grey. You love grey.”

Placing the items in his hands onto the the top of the drawers, he shook his head exasperatedly. “Its a t-shirt,” he pointed out slowly.


Letting out a long sigh, Klaus ran a hand through his hair before settling with; “I’m not a fan.”

“But you have gorgeous arms,” she argued, crossing over to his side and running a seductive hand down his arm, squeezing his forearm gently when she reached it. The unimpressed look on his face told her he knew what she was playing at and that he wasn’t falling for it.  “Fine, no t-shirts or colours. Sorry for trying to inject a bit of light and change into your life,” she said sarcastically, adding the grey shirt to the rest of the pile and gathering them in her arms to place onto the small chair near the door so she would remember to put it into the refuse bin in the morning. If Klaus wasn’t going to get some use out of it, then she’d be damned if no-one else did.

“I have light and change in my life, but she’s trying to change my personal preferences without asking me and it’s becoming irritating,” he remarked from behind her, his words softer and more understanding as he spoke. A smile played on her lips at his words, turning to see him change into a pair of jogging bottoms and catch her eyes with a raised brow. “And she’s also messing up my artwork.”

“Right,” she said, slightly perturbed at her own actions. Titling her head to the side, she offered him an apologetic look as she tried, “Sorry?”

Klaus rolled his lips between his teeth before letting out a breath and nodding. “It’s fine. Just- Don’t do it again,” he simply said, throwing his clothes into the washing hamper on his way towards her.

“Duly noted.” Caroline smiled, patting his naked torso as she asked,  “Anything else you want to get off your chest?”

“Nothing I can think of, no,” he retorted dryly when she finally walked back into the bedroom and climbed into bed. He rub his brow with a thumb to smooth out his tension, much to her amusement.

“Well, I’ll be here all night if you do,” she insisted with a saccharine smile and scrunching up her nose cutely before tucking herself in.

Once again, she pretended she didn’t see him roll his eyes in reply.

Klaus woke up the next morning to the unusual feeling of emptiness. Not him, however, but the bed. There was no-one in his arms, and more importantly, there were no limbs entangled with his own or the light floral-vanilla scent that was simply Caroline invading his senses.

Cracking open an eye, he blinked repeatedly when the bright sunlight hit his sensitive sight, not use to the room being basked in the morning light when he was usually the one who would open the curtains.

Focusing on the sounds nearby, he melted into the bed onto his back at the familiar spray of the shower and the love of his life’s singing. He was never a fan of the modern pop culture (he was this close to trying to compel himself to forget the lyrics to another one of Taylor Swift’s songs, who Caroline adored), but hearing her sing about James Dean and tight little skirts made all the difference.

Pushing himself up lazily against the headboard, Klaus reached over to grab his phone from the bedside table to check for any messages when he spotted a rolled up piece of paper balancing precariously atop of it.

Frowning in confusion (he was sure he had put his sketchbook away without ripping out a page the night before), he grabbed it tentatively and opened it in his lap. The drawing was hastily done, yet he could see the concentration and the thought the artist (he used the word very lightly) had put into it.

He assumed the stick man with short spirals for hair was him, especially considering the frown Caroline had etched onto his face along with the black pants and grey short sleeved t-shirt he wore (Klaus refused to think about the state his pencil must be in after all the shading).

There was another stick figure next to the man, however, taking into account the four legs and the (rather) elongated nose, he assumed it was an animal. With large, cutesy eyes and a tail made of straight lines with the end flicked gently, realisation hit him with a huff of irritation.

A horse. She had tried (‘tried’ being the key word) to replicate the drawing he had so lovingly drawn and left for her after his mother’s ball back in Mystic Falls. Whereas his had been a near-perfect portrait of a brief moment in time they had both shared, hers was obviously an amature attempt to tease him further.

And as proof of her blatant plagiarism, she had even added his regurgitated words next to it in her own swirly handwriting.

‘Thank you for your (belated*) honesty. Caroline x’

Rolling his eyes before rereading the line, Klaus searched for whatever she had omitted and referenced to by the asterisk. It was only when he turned the paper around that he noticed the few lines in the top lefthand corner in her normal handwriting.

‘*Seriously, Klaus. Next time, just tell me you’re not joking or that you really don’t like what I bought you. I can handle it. Unless you want to spend the rest of your life being constantly confused by your own closet.’

Growling at the implication of her words, he called out without waiting for her to leave the shower, “You’re not funny!”

Her light laughter resonated around the bathroom and through the door, making him reluctantly smile at the sound of it. “Did you like my drawing?” she asked over the water, which had slowed down.

Turning it back to the to picture, he analysed it with a critical eye before giving her the answer she was obviously looking for. “Its amazing,” he deadpanned.

He could hear the gentle swoosh of the water being turned off and her grabbing her towel before the door creaked open. “The resemblance is uncanny, right?” Caroline played along, crossing her arms over her towel-clad body and leaning against the doorjamb. “You don’t even have to keep it out of the light, either!”

anonymous asked:

Oh my god number 32 I would die

(So I wasn’t sure how smutty you wanted this, so I just went ahead and made it Suggestive™. Feel free to ask for a sequel if you want more. What a great prompt, though. Hope you enjoy!)

You glared at your thermostat as you padded down the hallway from your bathroom to your bedroom, wrapped in a towel and shivering as air hit your damp skin. Yes, you could turn up the heat, but you were engaged in a battle of willpower with your apartment’s temperature. It wasn’t winter yet, damn it. You quickly pulled on the first comfy clothes you saw, pajama shorts and a camisole, and cast your eyes around for a sweatshirt or something else warm. You spotted Holtzmann’s red robe draped over your chair where she’d dropped it early that day. 

Your girlfriend was spending the weekend at your apartment and her stuff already appeared to be taking over. You put the robe on, loosely cinching the waist–it smelled like her and was definitely cozy enough to do the job. Satisfied, you put your wet towel back in the bathroom and went to join Holtzmann in the living room.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you said as you walked in. “Ready for that X Files marathon?” You stopped in your tracks when you saw Holtzmann’s expression.

She had been working on some new designs in a notebook, curled up on your couch wearing sweatpants and a crop top. She now froze with her pen poised in midair and her mouth open mid-reply. Her eyes were wide and her pupils dilated, a classic deer caught in the headlights.

You furrowed your brow at Holtzmann’s reaction to your entrance. “Is something wrong, babe?” you asked.

Hearing your voice seemed to jar Holtzmann back to reality. She set down the pen and her expression shifted from stunned to what you personally referred to as the Full Holtzmann: a piercing smolder paired with that irresistibly sweet smile. It was an expression that said you were being visually taken apart and every piece thoroughly enjoyed, and it turned you on to no end.

“Nothing is wrong,” Holtzmann said. “I just think it would be a great idea for you to take that robe off.”

You took another few steps towards her. “What was that?” you said innocently.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.” Holtzmann enunciated each word precisely, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure I want to do that,” you said coyly. “I’m kind of chilly.” You rarely won these games of seeing who would give in first and just grab the other, but you had very good leverage this time around.

“You know I won’t leave you out in the cold for long,” Holtzmann countered. You noticed that she was flexing her hand in the way she always did when she was fighting with herself–sort of clenching and unclenching a loose fist. You almost had her.

“If you want this robe off me so badly, I guess I’ll just go change into something else.” You started to turn away and felt Holtzmann seize hold of the tie of the robe. Got her.

“Oh my god, (Y/N), you’re killing me,” Holtzmann said through gritted teeth. “You look so hot in that thing, just…please get over here.”

You smirked, extremely pleased with yourself. “Well, if you’d asked me like that…” You undid the loose knot and let the robe hang off of you, your shoulders bare except for the camisole straps.

Holtzmann let out a long, appreciative sigh and leaned back against the sofa. “I changed my mind,” she said. “How about you take off the pajamas and leave the robe on?”

“You’re so picky tonight,” you chastised, straddling Holtzmann’s lap and silencing her response with a deep kiss.

When you let her go, she said breathlessly, “So I’m assuming it’s cool if I spend the next few hours all over you instead of watching X Files?”

“Safe assumption.”

anonymous asked:

“I swear it was an accident.” for Supercat !

42. “I swear it was an accident.”

Clairvoyance is not one of Kara’s superpowers, but that morning she knows exactly what’s going to happen before it does. She can see the steaming mug of coffee held in Siobhan’s hands, extending towards Cat as she strides into the office from her private elevator, and she can see the delivery boy behind Siobhan, eyes on his clipboard and paying no attention to his surroundings as he strides towards Cat’s office.

Kara doesn’t move as she watches it play out from behind her desk – the delivery guy knocks into Siobhan, who stumbles, and the coffee spills over the side of the mug and all over Cat’s ridiculously expensive blouse.

“Oh my god.” Siobhan’s eyes widen in horror as Cat’s lips curl into a snarl, and Kara knows which of the two of them is going to be the number one assistant for the day. “I-I’m so sorry Miss Grant, I swear it was an accident, I – let me - ”

“Do not touch me,” Cat hisses, batting away Siobhan’s hands as she yanks the blouse away from her skin – it was white, but now there’s a quickly spreading brown stain seeping into the silk.

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