askbox ficlets

sweet-coffee-jelly  asked:

A: You're a DICK. B: Prompt - Sambucky + injury (doesn't matter who. or both. idk. Hurt my boys and then make them better.)

Bucky pressed on the wound and Sam yelped.

“Fuck! You’re a DICK.”

“You just told me to do that,” Bucky breathed, his voice fading. He blinked once, twice to clear his vision.

Sam’s eyes pressed shut and he lulled back, chest heaving with shallow breaths grinding down pain. Gunfire blazed over their heads, artillery blasting in the distance. “Barnes.”

Not looking up from the balled up cloth he held against Sam’s bullet wound, Bucky hissed: “What?”

Nothing, just the sound of Sam breathing.

“What, Sam?”

“I’m gonna pass out.”

“Please–don’t do that–”

“I think my ribs are broken.”


“Bye.” And Sam passed out.

“For fuck’s sake.” Bucky risked moving one of his hands, slammed on the com, “where the fuck is my medevac?”


“Jesus.” Sam was gonna bleed out and Bucky did not have time to hide his body. “Shit.”

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anonymous asked:

1. Henry looks down at the container in his lap, and wrinkles his nose. ‘Look,’ he tries. ‘I know it’s not lasagne or anything, but I checked online and this is what cobras have to eat!’ The Queen hisses at him, and promptly glides to the far corner of the cage, coiling up tightly and resting her head to face the back wall. He senses the clear dismissal, and huffs in annoyance. ‘I’m not going to let you starve,’ he snaps, dropping the container into the cage with a defiant ‘thwack’.

2. He grumpily stomps over to his bed, and hauls himself back on it, careful not to disturb the leaning tower of books. He is just settling back into his biology essay, when there is a sudden noise, and he looks up. The Queen is thrashing around, her tail banging against the glass and the container upended onto its side. At first, he thinks she is angry. And then he realizes – she is writhing in pain. ‘No,’ he gasps, reaching towards his mobile with trembling fingers. ‘No, no, no, no.’             

3. He tries mom first, but there is no answer. Taking a deep breath, he calls Emma next, the harsh ringing in his ear taunting him. ‘This is Emma. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message.’ Third try: David. No answer. The Queen has stopped moving so much, but he can see slight tremors rippling through her body, and he scrambles off the bed to wrench the lid off her cage. ‘It’s OK, mom,’ he whispers, attempting to keep his voice steady. ‘Let’s go find help.’             

4. He shoves his phone into his back pocket, and then scoops her up into his arms, running downstairs and out the door without thinking further. Dashing onto Main Street, he instantly sees the reason why no-one was answering his calls. The entire area is in chaos, with half the road destroyed by some sort of blast and cars are being consumed by raging flames. Emma is in the center, fighting desperately against Rumple, while Belle is crumpled over a prone figure, her harsh cries filling the air.            

5. Suddenly he spots David, kneeling next to – ‘Mom!’ he cries, racing over. She is lying on the ground, and as he crashes down beside her, he’s horrified to find a pool of blood. ‘Mom?’ he asks desperately. David reaches for his shoulder, but he shrugs him off and grasps his mom’s hand. She turns slightly glazed eyes to him, and smiles. ‘Henry,’ she whispers. ‘You shouldn’t be here – it isn’t safe.’

6. The Queen begins to struggle again, frantically. Henry releases her without realizing, and then mom and the snake are staring at each other. He watches as mom reaches up her other hand slowly, and with fumbling fingers pulls the collar off. The Queen is stumbling back, returned to human form once more. She stands unsteadily for a moment, breathing heavily, and then nods at both mom and him. She turns away, and as Henry gathers mom more firmly into his arms, he watches her storm away.             

7. Emma is tiring in the fight against Gold, her magic no match against the power of all the Dark Ones combined. Henry opens his mouth to call out a warning as a flash of light speeds towards her, but before it makes contact the Queen has appeared out of nowhere, deflecting it with a twist of her wrist. ‘I may be dying but you certainly can’t kill me, imp,’ she sneers, throwing a spell at him and forcing him to stagger backwards. Henry can see her simmering anger, and encourages it in his mind.             

8. ‘I may not be able to, but this can,’ Rumple snarls back, flinging out his hand. A sword appears, having been forgotten from the earlier battle, and Henry screams as Rumple smiles victoriously and stabs the Queen. Henry wants to leap up and run to her, but mom has become worryingly silent and unmoving in his arms, and he is paralyzed in uncertainty and fear. He watches as the Queen chuckles slightly, even as she coughs blood.             

9. She grips the front of Rumple’s jacket, pulling herself further onto the blade and into his face. ‘You know your problem?’ she gloats, and he rears his head back. ‘You’re always so predictable.’ Then she is pushing herself away from him, and wrenching the sword out to fling it aside. One hand clutches her abdomen, but she straightens defiantly and Henry can see the curved blade of a knife held up in her other. ‘Dark One I command you,’ she begins, her voice clear even as she gasps for breath.             

10. ‘I command you to leave this town – leave this country – without harming anyone, physically or mentally. And you will never return.’ Rumple sways, clearly fighting the orders, and Belle lets out another small sob. Then he is gone. The Queen stumbles, strength leaving her, and Henry reaches out a hand desperately even as he draws mom closer to his chest. ‘Emma, they need your help,’ he calls. David races over and together him and Emma half-carry the Queen, laying her down next to mom.             

11. ‘Emma, heal her. Both of her,’ he begs, but Emma is pale from her own battle, and he can see her hands shaking as she concentrates them over mom. ‘Come on Regina,’ she mutters. There is a bright light, and then mom is opening her eyes and pushing herself upright. Henry flings his arms around her, sobbing loudly as she hugs him back tightly. But he pulls away quickly, scrambling over to the Queen. ‘Now her,’ he demands, grabbing her hand. Emma leans over, but no light comes.             

12. ‘I’m sorry kid,’ she says with a grimace. ‘I think my magic is used up.’ He shakes his head vigorously. ‘No, she’s my mom too – she can’t die. I won’t let her!’ Mom moves to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. ‘Henry-’ she begins, but he desperately shakes his head again. ‘No, she’s a part of you, mom. You’re not whole without her.’ The Queen lets out a pained laugh, her fingers tightening around his. ‘Let her be free of me, Henry,’ she chokes out.

13. ‘Don’t be so defeatist,’ Mom says, before Henry can respond. She has an oddly fond expression on her face. Her and the Queen stare at each other for a moment, and then Mom reaches out with her magic, at the same time leaning down to kiss the Queen’s forehead. Henry shields his eyes from the bright light, and when he can see again, the Queen is gone. ‘What happened to her?’ he asks frantically, fingers scrabbling in the dirt where she once lay. ‘Did – did she die?’             

14. Hot tears are streaking down his cheeks, and it is difficult to breathe properly. He looks around, as if she’d magically appeared somewhere else. Then strong arms wrap around his shoulders, and he knows instantly what happened. ‘Don’t worry, Henry,’ mom reassures. ‘I’m here.’


This was perfectly heart-wrenching in every way! Snake Queen/Henry, Regal Believer, and eRegal Believer all in one! Perfection! Also that last line was <3<3

anonymous asked:

Dean's having a nightmare, when suddenly he is interrupted by a sudden comforting warmth (so different from the searing heat of Hell) settling beside him. Cas has crawled in bed next to him, has wrapped him in his arms and wings. Dean's ashamed to cry, but Cas gently strokes away his tears, murmuring soothing words in Enochian until Dean feels better, and can fall into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

It’s the best sleep Dean has had in a very, very long time. That doesn’t stop him from being embarrassed the next morning, or that night when Cas is standing by Dean’s bed in his pajamas come bedtime.

Dean doesn’t even bother to give a token protest, though. He doesn’t want Cas to take him at his word and leave, much as that would soothe his ruffled pride.

It does help that they don’t talk about it that night. Or the next, or the next. Before Dean knows it, a month of bed-sharing has gone by and the nightmares have dropped in frequency, easily soothed by Cas’s gentle touch and soft whispers when they do appear.

Dean can’t help but wonder, though. “Cas, what are we doing here?”

His voice is quiet in deference to the darkness around them and the closeness of their bodies. Cas’s face is inches away from his own.

“We’re sleeping,” Cas replies simply, and Dean wishes that was enough. He wishes that answer calmed the burning need to know.

“No, Cas,” Dean says. He shuffles minutely closer and tentatively rests his hand on Cas’s hip. He runs his thumb over the small band of skin between the waistband of Cas’s sleep pants and the ridden-up hem of his T-shirt. Cas inhales. “What are we doing here?”

“Whatever you want, Dean,” Cas says. The weight of those words hits Dean hard and he breathes out, stunned. He can tell Cas means it, completely means it, and there’s a thread of absolute certainty running through those words. Cas knows what he’s offering.

Dean leans in and kisses him. It’s not carnal, but it is passionate and open-mouthed. It’s a simple statement ‘this is what I want’.

Cas melts into the kiss with a soft, blissful sigh.

xdxviousx-deactivated20160122  asked:

Teen Wolf. Sterek. Kittens, Oreos, libraries. Please! :)

For my askbox prompts night.

“She needs a name,” Stiles says as Derek slips the Camaro into a parking space away from the rush of people cramming into spaces side by side at the entrance. He doesn’t miss the eyeroll Stiles gives him because of it, but he does ignore it.

“Cat,” he says dryly as he turns the key and gets out of the car.

He doesn’t miss Stiles’ put-upon sigh, either. “You can’t just call her ‘cat’ forever.”

“I actually can,” he says, beeping the locks and then following Stiles toward the old stone building at the other end of the parking lot. It is low-set, only one story, but what it lacks in height it makes up for in length, sprawling out like a sunbathing cat. He scowls at the reminder.

“What about… Jessica,” Stiles suggests. “Or Ramone. Oo, we could call her Catniss.”

“We are not calling her Catniss,” Derek says, herding Stiles onward toward the front steps. “You can’t give a cat a human name, anyway.”

That, at least, gives Stiles some pause, long enough for them to get in the front door and begin to head toward the information desk. Unfortunately, there is no line, which gives Stiles the ability to walk right up and ask the young woman behind the desk: “Can you name a cat a person name?”

She looks between the two of them, and when Derek doesn’t offer explanation or aid, she just tips her head a little and says: “I think you can name a cat whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said, puffing up a little bit as he shoots a smug smile at Derek. “We’re looking for… “ He trails off and Derek had wondered when it was going to dawn on him that there was not a ‘caring for cats’ section of the library. “Well, I’m not really sure what we’re looking for. Are there books on how to take care of kittens?”

The woman smiles and Derek practically sees her business-mode set in as she turns to her computer. Her fingers deftly tap the keys for a few moments, and then she scribbles some information on a piece of paper and passes it to Stiles. “There you are.”

“Thanks,” Stiles says, reading the paper a little more intensely than strictly necessary. Derek peeked over his shoulder at the collection of numbers, and then gently takes his arm and begins to lead him toward the correct section.

He isn’t sure how long they spend perusing the section on the care of various animals, but he does know he objects to boas, canaries, guinea pigs, emus, fennec foxes, and capybaras. He doesn’t even know what a capybara is, but it can’t be a good idea. He begins to wonder if agreeing to housing this first stray is going to act as a gateway and it is as he is envisioning a zoo parked in his backyard that Stiles finally whaps him gently on the shoulder with a books about the care of kittens to get his attention.

“I think this will do,” Stiles says. He has an odd look on his face, so Derek just accepts the book and they head down to the check-out area together. Derek checks the book out, and hands it over to Stiles.

In the car on the way home, a thought occurs to Derek. “Why didn’t you just look it up on the internet?”

Stiles, halfway through the book, glances over and then back down to the pages. “I did,” he says. “And even if I didn’t, it’s not like taking care of a kitten can be that hard.”

“But then… why did we come out here?” Derek asks, confused.

A soft chuckle escapes Stiles, but he shrugs. “It’s just, you know, we took her in and we don’t really have… anything for her. It’s like… it’s like a baby book. Or something. Also my dad is coming over tomorrow, and I don’t think he really trusts the internet, so… we look like responsible adults now.”

Derek sighs. “Oreo,” he says.

It’s Stiles’ turn to be confused, and he looks over at Derek with a furrowed brow.

“Oreo,” Derek repeats. “We’re not very responsible adults if we can’t even name our cat.”

That gets a bark of laughter out of Stiles, one of Derek’s favorite sounds. “Because she’s black and white?”

“And… very sweet,” Derek grudgingly admits.  

Stiles’ soft smile has only a smidgen of smugness to it. “I knew you liked her.”

anonymous asked:

If you're still taking prompts: James/Thomas and 20 or 46 :))

Okay so once again, I couldn’t choose between these, so I wrote one with angst and one with um…filth, so here you go anon. Stay tuned for the filth. Thank you for the prompts! <3 

20. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

James has been sitting in the chair for what seems like forever, though he’s only been awake for an hour at the most. Thomas is still asleep, curled on his side, his face half buried in a pillow. His breath is gentle in the morning stillness.

You need to wake up, James thinks quietly. If Thomas wakes up and gives him a soft farewell, maybe, just maybe he’ll be able to make his legs work and carry out his duty and leave this room.

It gets harder and harder to leave.

He presses his fingers to his temples, rubbing at them. Last night Thomas had kissed his jaw and his forehead, his neck and chest, each kiss a slow tender seduction until James was practically begging for him.

You need to wake up, because I don’t want to leave you. I never want to leave you.

He needs something to make him walk out the door, carry him to his ship and away. He’s going to be gone for god knows how long this time. He’ll have to sleep without Thomas’s comforting presence, without his touches, without being able to look up and see Thomas just smiling at him.

It will feel like an eternity and James is weak because of it, weak for not wanting to leave the warmth of this love that keeps him sane, anchored to the earth in a fashion that nothing else has ever done.

He drops his head in his hands. “You need to wake up, because I can’t do this without you.”

“I’m awake.” Thomas mumbles. “What is it that needs doing right this moment?”

He looks so sleepy and untroubled, James can’t bear it. He goes to sit on the side of the bed and kisses Thomas’s questioning mouth.

“Nothing.” He murmurs. “Go back to sleep.”

He wants to protect Thomas from the depths of his love, the inconsiderable amount of torment within his own heart. He would die for Thomas, he would kill for Thomas, but Thomas doesn’t need to know that. 

Thomas sighs and nestles his head against James’s chest. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I know.” James kisses his hair. “I wish that too.”

mistbornofhathsin  asked:

Could you do 11, please?

11. partners in crime au

Derek rolls over with a groan when his phone blares to life, the specifically set tune demanding his attention when he’d usually just shut off the ringer and bury himself back under his pillow.

  “What?” he asks, forcing his voice to lilt at the end so that it sounds like a question rather than an aggressive statement.

  “Derek–shit, oh, fuck–” Stiles’ breathing is heavy and Derek’s eyes snap open.

  “Stiles, it’s three in the morning, I don’t think now’s the best time for–”

  “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Stiles says frantically. “I’m not–that’s not why I’m calling–I’m in trouble. I’m in trouble, because I tripped a silent fucking alarm and I think they have dogs? I’m kind of–shit!” There’s a bark in the background and a sound like Stiles has just full-body collided with something. “Okay, they definitely have dogs.”

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anonymous asked:

hey hey if you're still doing prompts could you do 34 with flinthamilton??

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”


It’s been a long evening. Thomas had attended a dinner at the admiralty and all night James has had to watch him converse with other people, while he’d been seated at another table, stuck with the lesser officers.

It didn’t help that every time James glances at him and Thomas catches his eye, he looks absolutely irresistible.  He’s doing it on purpose; James just knows it. It’s not bloody fair.

He keeps his head down and speaks civilly when he’s spoken to.

At the end of the night Thomas finally makes his way in the direction of James, catching him near the door.

“And how are you tonight, lieutenant?”

“You’re well aware of how I am.” James mutters under his breath.

“Oh?” Thomas’s expression is completely innocent. “Has something been distracting you from the evening’s conversation?”

“I wouldn’t know about the evening’s conversation.” James reminds him. “I was at the other table, remember?”

“Oh, I do.” Thomas murmurs. “Every time I looked up, there you were.” He’s doing it again, keeping the ardent intensity of his gaze fixed firmly on James, taunting him.

James leans in, as though he’s merely commenting on the evening’s weather. “If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to a bed.”

“Is that right?” Thomas smile is blithe and untroubled. “You wouldn’t dare, lieutenant.”

“Wouldn’t I?” James says. “Come with me.”

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fflove190  asked:

Zack Fair didn't want to admit he was in over his head.

It couldn’t be that hard, right? Angeal did it all the time! Alright, bad example, Angeal was a First and also had a good three inches on him without even getting into those shoulders or sheer strength. But his puppy eyes were better, and he was armed with really good coffee. He could do this.

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my askbox and i will write the next five.

transbeequeen  asked:

Dagur/Thora "I just can't believe you're wearing my clothes"!!!

Thora yawned, rolling over in bed and burying her face into the pillow. She lazily brought her tail up and draped it over the spot where Dagur was supposed to be. Feeling her tail flop flat against the furs, she frowned into the pillow. 

That wasn’t right.

She tiredly lifted her head and looked around the room. Judging by the amount of light filtering in through the cracks and seams of the shutters, it was still early morning. And after last night’s Walpurgisnacht celebration, she would have thought that he’d want to sleep in–especially with how much alcohol he had stored away in the drinking contest against Snotlout.

Surprisingly, Snotlout had won. But only because Tuffnut had knocked over the barrel of mead, sending it rolling down the hill, through two houses, and over a cliff. 

Regardless, the fact that Dagur was not in bed was almost worrying to Thora. She tilted her head, trying to listen for any sounds, but the house was silent. Her brows furrowed and she started to get out of bed. But she was stopped as the door suddenly burst open, making her jump. 

“Breakfast time!” Dagur grinned, holding a platter of still-steaming food in front of him. 

Thora stared at him, her head somewhat cocked in confusion. “How did I not–” She paused, realizing something was off.

Or rather, something was on

Her ceremonial dress. 

On Dagur

Seeing her staring, he pouted. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked, putting his free hand on his hip. “I mean, I know you think I’m sexy and all, but that doesn’t really look like a stare of admiration-”

You’re in my dress.”

He looked down, shrugging. “Yeah. It was the first thing I grabbed when I woke up. I didn’t really care; I had to pee so bad, I just grabbed something and ran.” He came fully into the room, setting the platter down on the foot of the bed. “I also feel horribly hungover, so I couldn’t care less about what I’m wearing and instead care about drinking this tea I made myself.”

Chuckling, Thora rolled her eyes. As Dagur sat down across from her, she started reaching for the food. “I just can’t believe you’re wearin’ my clothes,” she teased. “Not that ya don’t look rather fetchin’, but you’re…how do I say it? Hmm…Lackin’ in certain areas.” The end of her tail poked the center of his chest, which was bare thanks to him not having breasts to hold the fabric up.

He pouted. “You know as well as I do that I’m certainly not ‘lacking’ in any areas of importance.” He then grinned cheekily at her. “As I so proved last-”

Before he could finish, Thora shoved a biscuit into his mouth.

anonymous asked:

I love your sex scene writing a lot!! it must be the most delicious food in the world! would you like to write some yummy PWP for service?

Right now I’m too busy writing chapter 3 of obs to write any extra stuff but once obs is finished I may do some things like askbox ficlets if I have some time and I can write something along this line then :D

anonymous asked:

1. Things you said at 1 am, Merthur, obviously 💕💕

Peace should have been easier. After all, the kingdom was safe, and had been for a year now. Morgana was defeated, Mordred was dead, the Saxon army had retreated back to the north to lick their wounds (not that they wouldn’t be back sooner or later under a new leader). Treaties had been made with the neighboring kingdoms, and a promise of protection had been made the druids. The ban on magic had been lifted, much to the chagrin of the older noblemen that had served Uther.

In all, Camelot was flourishing. And Arthur didn’t know how to deal with that.

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iwantthemtoo  asked:

Lazard didn't know what he had gotten himself into, but it can't be that bad to talk to Zack's parent's right. They had a right to know what happened to him.

But this never got any easier. Especially not when he’d been friends with the SOLDIER in question. His own grief was fresh, and here he had to go tell his parents that their youngest son was dead. At least Balto had known already, possibly in more detail than Lazard himself. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, locked the door to his office, and picked up the phone.

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my askbox and i will write the next five.

teaandsunflower  asked:

Sterek 1!!!!!! Pls

1. soulmates au

Everyone gets their mark - or marks - on their eighteenth birthday - everyone, no exceptions. Soul marks themselves aren’t a guarantee of sex, or even of romance - there are thousands of perfectly happy, platonic soulmates out there, so regardless of whether their soulmate themselves is eighteen or not, everyone gets their mark.

  Which is why Stiles is in a rage when he gets his - the mark burning itself into the skin of his leg at exactly four minutes past three in the afternoon. Marks are a personal thing, so when Stiles rushes out of the room to get to the bathroom, nobody follows; Scott simply pauses the videogame and Lydia barely even deigns to glance up from filing her nails.

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anonymous asked:

Zutara gets kicked out of bed??

who is more likely to get kicked out of the bed

“Katara, I said I was sorry,” Zuko all but shouted.

“Really?” Katara retorted, actually shouting. “You really think sorry is good enough?”

Zuko sighed and rubbed at his temples. “You know that it was just a slip up. Anyone who grew up in the Fire Nation during my father’s reign would have–”

“Well that’s exactly it, isn’t it?” Katara huffed. She began to untie her updo, fiercely undoing the braids in a way that made Zuko wince. “Maybe it’s time for the Fire Nation to be reeducated in the ways of the world.”

“Katara, you’re the Fire Lady,” Zuko sighed. “You love this place, even though you miss home. Don’t act like you still think we’re all mindless soldiers.”

Katara scoffed and started to angrily take off her jewelry, throwing it onto the dresser. “Then maybe you should stop acting like you care about where I come from. You just showed the whole Nation what you really think tonight, didn’t you?”

“I misspoke, Katara!” Zuko said defensively. “You know that I don’t actually think that about the South Pole.”

“Oh really?” Katara asked in a biting tone. “You really enjoy visiting the cold wastelands where I grew up? Because you never act like it. I guess that’s all been misspeaking as well?” She had shed her formal dress for a sleep gown, a blue and white one to be used as a statement to her husband. 

He rolled his eyes. “I know nothing of snow and tundras, Katara. I grew up here.”

“And I know nothing of this eternal summer, but we live here, don’t we Fire Lord?” She turned down the covers of their bed and situated herself beneath them. “Get out, Zuko.”

“Katara,” he said, his voice hurt. “Please don’t do this. You know that I would never–.”

“I don’t want you sleeping next to me tonight, Zuko,” she said firmly. 

Zuko sighed, but picked up his pillow from the bed. “As you wish, Katara.” He placed his pillow on the floor and laid down, taking off only his jacket and his crown. The marble floor wasn’t exactly heated, so he’d need the layers while he slept and settled into less controlled breathing. 

Katara was still so prickly about his comment on the South Poles that even her attempts at sleep sounded angry. Zuko rolled over to face their bed and began to mutter to himself. “Winter, spring, summer, and fall. Winter, spring, summer, and fall. Four seasons, four loves. Four seasons for love.

Katara’s angry shifting around in bed had stopped at the low and shaky singing. Zuko assumed that meant she was listening and that she hadn’t gone to sleep. “I’m sorry, Katara. I didn’t mean to hurt you and I hate that I’ve messed up something else between us. I love you so much and I never want to make you unhappy.” He paused, letting the apology settle in the silent room. “I’m so sorry.”

There was more silence in the royal chambers and Zuko started to truly worry if he had ruined things. Suddenly, the sounds of ruffled fabrics took over. Bare feet padded over to his spot on the floor and Katara crouched down, letting her body drape across Zuko’s back. She sat up a little and kissed his ear. “Me too,” she whispered. 

They stayed on the floor, linked together until morning.

Send me a ship and a prompt

anonymous asked:

heeey i met your blog a couple days ago and i dont know if youve answer this before, but is there like a main fic or material (like a big thing i dont know how to express myself) for the play party au or just the pieces that can be found in your tag? i really hope there's more cause i love it!!! have a great week!

hey! there isn’t a main fic on ao3 – it exists solely in askbox ficlets here – but i was thinking of moving what i had to ao3 after i finish answering all the prompts in my askbox. but i’m glad you like what’s there already!

anonymous asked:

(1/5) I'ts a few minutes after 5 am as Oliver sits on the back porch of his and Felicity’s house and watches the sun creep up on the horizon. Today marks the 15th anniversary of the day the Gambit sank and Oliver has been feeling the darkness lurking around in the back of his mind for a few days now. He’s been trying to make it seem like he was okay but he knows his family noticed. Felicity’s soft glances when he says he’s okay and Diggle’s worried looks.

He’s gotten better over the years with sharing his feelings and talking about things (thanks to Felicity) but sometimes, like right now, it’s just too difficult. He’s pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of a tiny hand on his knee. Sleepy (and slightly worried) blue eyes look up at him. 

“Daddy, are you okay?” his 4-year old son asks.

A small smile appears on Oliver’s face as he picks Tommy up and places him on his lap. “Yeah, I’m okay,” Oliver tells him but his son frowns at him. 

“But you don’t smile anymore,” he says in a small voice and his chin wobbles a bit. Looks like his son picked up on his mood as well. Oliver takes a deep breath and holds Tommy closer to him. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. I’m just a little sad but I promise you, I’m okay. You wanna know why?”

He feels his son nod against his neck. “Because of you. With you and your mommy in my life, I will always be okay,” Oliver says and places a kiss against Tommy’s forehead. “Something happened to me a while ago and when you’re old enough I will tell you about it.” Tommy sniffles a little and wraps his tiny arms around Oliver’s neck, a small smile on his face but his eyes still sad.

“Promise you smile again soon? I miss it.” 

The words tug at Oliver’s heart strings and he feels tears prick at the back of his eyes. “I promise, buddy. I will smile again soon.” 

Tommy nods seriously before leaning and kissing his daddy’s nose (a habbit he picked up very early from his mommy) and for the first time in days, Oliver’s feels a real genuine smile on his face.

“I love you, daddy.” 

“I love you, too, Tommy.”

That was absolutely beautiful, nonnie. Thank you so much for sharing it with me <3

anonymous asked:

For that ficlet askbox game, 1 "Can I kiss you?" Dean/Cas of course. =)

Dean thinks he must be asleep. He’s dreaming or high on djinn poison or something, because there’s no actual way he really just heard Cas ask what he thinks he just heard Cas ask.

Not that Dean objects to the idea. Not even a little, but good things do not happen to Dean Winchester. Good things do not just land in his lap or present themselves on a silver platter. Everything Dean wants doesn’t just suddenly offer itself up for the taking.

“What?” Dean asks, stunned. Cas lifts his chin and meets Dean’s gaze squarely, arms folded across his chest.

“I would like-” Cas clears his throat. “I want to kiss you, if you’ll allow me.”

Dean stares.

“Like… on the cheek?” Dean asks slowly. There has to be some other shoe here and Dean can’t just wait for it to drop. Cheek kisses are a totally platonic thing, aren’t they? That has to be what Cas wants, though why-

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demisemiquaver  asked:

Steve/Bucky, "I can't walk."

He’s taken out three HYDRA bases alone. No support, no backup, no rest — and still — Steve and Sam follow, and find only the ashes and rubble he leaves in his wake. The Winter Soldier is a ghost — and a malevolent one, at that — getting his revenge on the people who wronged him. 

(“Couldn’t have happened to a better bunch of guys,” Sam says, the first time they stand in the ruins where a secret base used to be.

“They deserve it, and Bucky deserves to do it,” Steve says, grim, “but not like this. Not alone.”

“You gonna burn ‘em to the ground together, man?” Sam says. 

Steve cannot imagine anything better). 

The Winter Soldier is a ghost, but Bucky Barnes is a man. Steve knows this, better than anyone — Steve has curled up with him for warmth in cold winters, and has kissed his full, red lips, and has lain with him in a sweaty tangle of limbs and post-coital bliss. 

Bucky Barnes is a man, and a man can’t live like a ghost for long. 

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vorpalgirl  asked:

18. “Cuddle me.” - Zack.

Genesis had been in the midst of reading his newest novel, engrossed to the point of distraction, when a sudden weight landed on his legs and spread to his abdomen and chest. Letting out a huff of air, he tipped his book down and gave his boyfriend a look. “Yes?”

“Cuddle me,” Zack said, wriggling until he was fully on top of him, pillowing his cheek on his arm where it lay across Genesis’ chest.

“…I’m reading,” Genesis said, in case he had somehow missed it.

Cuddle meeee,” Zack repeated, puppy eyes coming out full force.

Genesis’ lips twitched and he sighed, holding an arm open. 

Zack crawled up promptly, tucking under his chin with a satisfied sigh. “Thanks, Gen.”

“Mmhm.” Smiling faintly, Genesis wrapped an arm around him and resumed reading.

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dee62fan  asked:

shit, it's the same cover but a different edition.

“What?” Angeal glanced at Genesis, baffled.

“It’s a different edition - the book is different, I know it by heart!” Genesis insisted, staring wide-eyed at the passage he’d been at. “Son of a bitch, does that mean there’s more? How did I not know this?”

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my askbox and i will write the next five.