but now she might just take him him back

Imagine Daryl cheating on you not knowing that you're pregnant

(Wooo more angst I guess :3 Hope it is as requested and you all like it :3 Gif not mine/found it on google/credit to the original owner.)

You were both arguing again. About what? He couldn’t remember and neither could you but you were now just both screaming at each other.

Finally, it suddenly stop and you both got quiet. With nothing else to say, he just exhaled and dipped his head down. Staring at his feet, he wondered what had happen between you and him to get like this.

He turned his back to you slowly and walked towards the door to leave, it just seemed right to let you have your space.

Before walking out, he looked back at you only to hear the sound your voice.

“I love you Daryl…”

He turned back and closed the door. Those words he had heard them a thousand times and never once had he ever gotten tired of them but this time something was off.

He couldn’t figure out if you were sincere about it or not and just took some time to reflect on everything.

~~~~

In the few weeks of your arrival to Alexandria, the two of you had seem to drift apart and argue a lot more. Your happiness and joyful attitude had seem to change.

Anything would seem to bother you and you would just seem to push him away whenever he would try to comfort you, making him frustrated.

When he’d leave you alone for some time, you’d get even more frustrated and as he’d come back to your side, the fight between you and him would only seem to get worse.

He hated that feeling of pushing you away and the feeling of you pushing him away. He thought to himself that he would do anything to make you happier again but with everything going on and everything that had happen, even he himself found it hard to be positive.

~~~~

As he sat on the couch, he just didn’t felt like he could sleep on it again this night and decided to get up and walk out to see what the others were up to.

He thought of going to Aaron’s for a late snack, knowing that he and Eric would welcome him, and walked towards where his house was.

He walked the road with his head down, hands in his pocket to keep himself warm when suddenly he felt someone walk by.

He looked back and realized it was Rosita. Oddly, seeing here walk just as him, made him curious and he just had to ask.

“Hey…Where are you going at this hour?”

She turned in surprised, seeming to not have noticed him earlier and simply sighed.

“To Spencer’s house…”

She seemed embarrassed about saying it and could only seem to hope to be able to leave soon before further questioning.

She was about to turn around as it got quiet but somehow Daryl just had to keep talking to her.

“W-what are you doing there? Is it cause of Abraham?”

He knew the answer but he felt an urge of being indiscreet and wanted her to answer honestly.

She ended up being pissed and just nodded.

“Yeah…well now you know the answer…Can I go now?”

From her answer, he just seemed to understand what was going on with her. Looking for someone to comfort in a time when the person you love the most had just threw you away, just seemed to suddenly appeal to him.

Him and her were on the same page and it would just seem fine to be the one to help her out while her to do so for him.

He walked closer to her and casually just asked her honestly.

“How about you forget about him for tonight…Let’s go to your house…”

She raised her eyebrow and knowing how much him and you loved each other she just couldn’t understand as to what was happening.

She stepped back and bluntly asked him. Nervously, he told her everything and ended up walking to her house.

Just as he expected to happen, he spent the night with her and tried to forget about the fight you and him had.

~~~~~

While he left, you had cried to yourself, thinking about everything. You didn’t knew as to where this whole frustration came to you but you just felt suffocated with everything lately.

It was easy to be pissed off and it would always seem that you would let it out the instant Daryl would be around.

You hated yourself for it each time you would later reflect on it and remembering his sad expression, only made it worse.

You wanted it to change, to go back to the time where everything was sweet and nice with him. To the time, when it was easy to laugh and forgive each other after stupid little arguments.

You knew it had something to do with you and you just had to figure it out. You thought about it over the night and eventually fell to sleep.

~~~~

The next morning you woke up and oddly Daryl wasn’t on the couch. You stopped to think for a while but believing that he might sleep at Aaron’s or Rick’s, you simply nodded and walked to over to make breakfast.

In the meanwhile, he was spending the morning in Rosita house’s still holding her. He felt bad to leave you like that but thinking that you might need some time he stayed with her and they later ate breakfast as well.

You sat there expecting him to come back anytime soon but as you realized the time of the day, you decided you needed to figure out what was happening with yourself.

You needed to talk to someone and decided to join Denise in the infirmary. As you helped her out with whatever she needed, you both talked and she made you realize something.

“Well maybe your mood swings…and your sensitivity to smell…it’s all linked to you being pregnant…When was your last period?”

As she said that, you stopped whatever you were doing and stared up at her. In thought, you counted the last time you had your period and realized it was quite some time ago.

She noticed your silence and questioned further, “Do you and Daryl…use condoms when you both…”

You shook your head remembering the last time you and him had been together intimately and just slumped down to sit on the nearby chair.

Nervously, you didn’t know how to react properly. Were you happy about the possibility or would it break you and him even more, you couldn’t know at that moment and it scared you.

As Denise noticed you, she got closer to you and went in to rub your back for comfort.

“Look I think you can take a test here just to be sure…maybe you’re not and it’s something else…Whatever it is we’ll figure it out ok!”

You wiped your little tears and nodded to her. A test wouldn’t hurt you and if you really were pregnant then you thought you that it might be better to learn it now.

~~~~~

As you were about to take the test, Daryl was just quietly leaving Rosita’s house for the day and was hoping to go check on you.

However, something in his hear and mind told him that you might push him away again, making him turn to look at Rosita as he stood by the door.

In a mumble, he simply eyed her and said, “I’ll be back for tonight…Wait for me ok…”

She sighed and asked him about you but he simply shrugged and explained his reasoning. She ended up agreeing and told him to quickly leave before anyone would see him walk out of her house.

~~~~

You ended up finding the truth behind your frustration and sickness. You were pregnant, two lines on both of the tests that you took.

Your heart thumped and you thought of everything. Was he really going to be okay with this? You remembered you both talked about wanting a family together but that was back when everything was sunshine and flowers between you not like this.

You weren’t even sleeping in the same house at this point and the thought of bringing a child into an unhappy family saddened you.

As you sat in deep thought and discussion with Denise, she tried her best to make you realize that it wasn’t as bad.

She tried to convince you of Daryl’s kind heart and how he would certainly understand and probably make things right with you.

Although, you could see it, you expressed to her that you felt bad for the way you had been treating him.

“I-I don’t to think an apology will be enough…”

She didn’t knew what to say and you both got quiet for a while until an idea occurred to her.

“How about you make a nice diner for him…and maybe make a surprise about your pregnancy announcement while at it…I’m sure he’ll appreciate it…”

The idea made you smile and only sweet memories about him getting you dinner whenever you were hungry, came to you. You realized it was in times like that, that you would both just fall for one another.

You ended up nodding and with some confidence you agreed.

“Alright I like that idea…A new start for me and him…and our little one…”

She smiled to hear you and you both got to work on different ideas of how to present the whole thing to him.

Not wanting to rush anything, you decided to truly prepare it for him in the few days that followed.

~~~~~

While at it, he had been spending his night’s at Rosita for her company and had lied to you about just wanting to hang out with Aaron.

You didn’t question him any further thinking that it would be better to surprise him at the right moment and just let him his space.

He didn’t want to be apart from you but your distantness just seemed it was better to let you on your own for a while.

With Rosita, he was able to talk and just feel comforted enough to not want to leave it so soon. He knew it was wrong but something about it was just worth it to him as long as no one found out.

She wouldn’t ever replace what he feels for you but it was something new to him and a breath of fresh air that he needed for the time being.

~~~~~

One evening, after him and her had just had sex, he remembered you passing by him and telling him to come for dinner as he walked outside.

He knew it meant you were fine enough to talk again and finally felt like he needed to spend the rest of the night with you. He explained himself to her and she understood, letting him leave.

You sat waiting anxiously at home, hoping he’ll be back soon and really just couldn’t wait to tell him of the news.

In the days leading to this moment, you grew to love the idea of having your own child and could just imagine how lively your life would get.

You barely could sit still in your seat and as soon as your door was opened, you got up from the kitchen table to peer over.

It was Daryl and you cracked a smile at him. He lowered his gaze as he would whenever he would get nervous and made you chuckle.

To hear your laughter, made him feel better and realized how much he had missed you. However, at the same time that smile and sound, stung his heart and reminded him of what he had been doing behind your back, making his hesitate to smile so much.

He walked over to see you and greeted you in a low tone. You nodded and shyly welcomed him.

He sat across from you and smiled to see the food you had cooked. He smelled it and just felt back at home and slowly seemed to forget about everything that had happen.

~~~~~

You both ate quietly for a moment, not knowing the right words to say. Stealing glances at each other, you smiled and notice him going from smiling to a concerned expression in a matter of seconds

It worried you that he might not like it or something and took the lead in starting a conversation.

“I-I’m glad you came for tonight…I-I really missed you…”

You looked up from your plate to see his reaction and once again saw his lips curl. It wasn’t out of pure happiness it seemed but you took it as a compliment.

He nodded at you and just couldn’t find anything to tell you but that he felt the same about you.

It was the truth but part of it, he felt himself as a jerk to have done such things to you. It broke his heart to realize the whole thing and he just wanted to hit himself over it.

He then reached for your hand and simply repeated to you about how he loves you, making you feel a sense of relief.

The evening went quite well and you both started to chat in a more relaxed way that reminded you both of when you first met at the prison.

~~~~~

As you both sat on the couch, you then got up and revealed to him that you had another surprise for him and that he needed to close his eyes.

It slightly unnerved him but nonetheless he did as you asked of him.

You came back with a box in hand and kneeled close to his knee, enough to put your hand on it.

As you did, you then told him to open his eyes. He noticed the box in hand and just wondered as to what it was.

You could see the curiosity in his eyes and excitement came over to you. You smiled brightly and just couldn’t seem to sit still.

You handed it to him and looking into his eyes, you said, “I’m sorry about my attitude lately…I really am…You didn’t deserve to be treated the way I treated you…You deserve better…So here is my apology gift…”

He swallowed hard to hear you and couldn’t think as to what you would offer him. The box was intricate and he felt like he didn’t deserve whatever it was inside as he now felt at fault on his part.

Nonetheless, with your excitement, he had no choice but to do just as you asked and open the box.

As he did, he noticed the paper filling surrounding a piece of a folded paper and looked back at you.

You gave him a curt nod to signify him to take it and he did so. He took it slowly and opened it to read it.

“You’re going to be a dad”

His heart stopped. His eyes had tears and widened to see those words and he couldn’t figure out how to truly feel.

As you noticed him, you simply chuckled and told him to check the tests you had took to let him know of the truth.

He slowly searched for them and seeing the two sticks with each a positive sign on them, he realized how much in the wrong he was.

He knew he still loved you but just felt like he didn’t deserve you. He looked back into your eyes and you just playfully bit your lips and said, “So…what do you think?”

A thousands insults to himself came to him and in that instant, he could only think of pulling you in for a tight hug.

You ended up in his lap, hugging him back and could only laugh at his reaction. Your happiness to him was everything to him but truly he just felt like he did you wrong and knew nothing he could do could make him redeem himself.

The only thing he could say or feel about this was to tear up. He clung onto you and repeatedly apologize to you.

“I-I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

You stroked his hair to hear him and just told him it was fine, not understanding the true meaning behind his apology.

You thought he was simply referring to your pregnancy and just told him about your love for him.

“You don’t need to apologize for it…If anything it’s me for my attitude…Not you…Besides if you’re apologizing for making a baby with me…Don’t…I love you Daryl…That’s all that matters…I know we’ll make it through together…and that’s all because I love you…”

As he listened to you, he wanted to hit himself over and over for everything that he had done to you and realized nothing could be done to fix any of his acts.

The only thing he could think at that moment was to keep apologizing.

“I’m sorry….I’m sorry…I’m sorry Y/N…”

From his tone, you realized something was off and held him wondering if you should ask his meaning or simply brush it off for the night.

anonymous asked:

"Then what do you suggest?" Sterek? Please? /best puppy dog eyes

“This is an awful idea.” Scott huffs.

Stiles kicks at his shin. “Then what do you suggest?”

“Oh, I don’t know, why don’t you just tell him like any other normal person?”

“Because that’s not nice enough!” Stiles complains, nudges Scott with his elbow. “Hold it right!”

“Is there a wrong way to hold a poster?” Scott fires back. “This is ridiculous, you owe me so bad, man.”

Stiles turns to glare at him but seeing as they are both wearing otter costumes, it’s impossible to see each others’ faces.

“Oh, like I didn’t help you with your first date with Allison? Or that time I didn’t tell your mom you ate a hotdog even though she said you weren’t supposed to?” Scott huffs. “Yeah,” Stiles says, “suck it up, man.”

“I hate you.” Scott slaps him.

“I hate you, too.” Stiles slaps him back.

Around them people have started staring and laughing, and Stiles regrets doing this with all his might, but it’s too late to back out now. He can’t just admit he was wrong to Scott. And – hey, that’s Lydia taking pictures, yeah, awful idea.

Stiles only hopes this will be worth it, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if Derek says no. Stiles wouldn’t dress up as a fucking otter and hold a very pink and glittery poster saying ‘I love you’ for just anyone.

He wants to marry the shit out of this guy when they graduate College.

Stiles looks up at the sky, prays to whoever is out there that Derek feels the same.

“Are you freaking out in there?” Scott asks.

“No!” Stiles answers quickly. “Shut up and focus!”

“You focus!”

“You –”

“You two shut up!” Erica yells from somewhere behind them. “My boyfriend is about to play and you’re blocking the view, if you don’t do this I swear to God I will skin you both alive!”

“Well,” Stiles swallows heavily, offers his fist for Scott to bump, “let’s fucking do this.” He watches the players run into the field, waits until Derek turns their way, eyes searching for Stiles in the stands like he always does – he’s so predictable and adorable, Stiles loves him a lot – and takes a deep breath, readying himself to scream like he’s never screamed before. “Hey, Derek!” He yells as Scott holds up his poster. “You’re my significant otter!” The crowd erupts in cheers and Derek hides his face behind his hands.

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anonymous asked:

Well that post about kisame and shark characteristics said the hoshigaki females would be generally bigger, more muscular etc. So just, kisame sees the pink headed blob from behind and like ew a weak one but then she turns around and bam memories of his mother accidentally breaking tables/doors/walls come to mind bam he's in love

I should absolutely definitely totally be finishing the next chapter of reverse right now what have you done

Nagato looks like he’s about to start stabbing people, which Kisame thinks likely isn’t the best way to walk into a peace conference with Konoha.

“Obito,” he says tightly, as the volume of Konan and Yahiko’s bickering increases. “I am very fond of you, but if you don’t stop complaining I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

Obito rolls his eye, but he does stop fidgeting with his shakujo, sinking back flat on his feet rather than poised on the balls of his toes, and Kisame allows a fraction of the tension in his shoulders to ease. Having their resident powerhouse to slightly wound isn’t good for the nerves.

“Fond,” Obito says instead, pulling a face. “Gee, thanks.”

Nagato looks exasperated, and turns to his partner with a huff, but Kisame has been walking between Konan and Yahiko and Sasori and Deidara since they left Ame; he’s had more than enough of couple quarrels for the next lifetime and change, so he squeezes past their honorable(-ish) leaders and makes tracks for the clear field they agreed on for negotiations, figuring he may as well scout the area. Nagato will likely do one better as soon as he gets his head out of his ass, being a sensor and all, but for now Kisame steps out of the trees and takes a quick glance around the field. It looks like it would make a good battlefield in another life, open and free of most obstructions, but as it is there’s only a single other figure visible.

Deciding he may as well be friendly, Kisame puts on his best smile, trying not to show too many extra teeth, then slings Samehada over his shoulder and wanders towards the kunoichi inspecting a lone outcropping of boulders. She’s small, lean, with short pink hair held back by a Konoha hitai-ate. Almost despite himself, Kisame feels a flicker of resignation, expecting another weak, stuttering, flailing girl. Objectively, he’s well aware that most kunoichi can’t be held to the standards of the Hoshigaki Clan, but Kisame grew up with women who were a good two heads taller than him and twice as broad, all muscle, and able to break a table in half without a thought. Anything less invokes an instinctive distaste, and—

The small, pretty kunoichi makes a sound of deep frustration, rears back, and punches the boulders hard.

It’s probably upwards of six tons of rock, and with one direct blow the entire formation shatters into dust.

Kisame’s jaw drops, and he practically trips over his own feet. Oh, he thinks, and then Oh! And maybe she’s not quite as tall or broad as his mother and sister but as she spins to face him he realizes she’s nowhere near delicate. Those are thick muscles, just as honed as his own, and the way she balances herself says she knows exactly how to use them.

“A kunoichi!” Kisame says, utterly delighted.

The young woman eyes him like he just said something dumb. “Haruno Sakura,” she says, like it’s a warning.

It might be, but Kisame’s been so focused on Ame and helping rebuild Akatsuki after Madara’s attempt to corrupt it that he hasn’t had time to leaf through the Bingo Book lately. Now he wishes he had, because wow.

“You!” he repeats. “You’re a real kunoichi!”

Sakura blinks, taking half a step back as she falls out of her fighting stance, and she looks startled and just a little flattered. “Um?”

“Could you bench press me?” Kisame presses, already advancing in anticipation.

Baffled, Sakura blinks at him for a moment, then snorts, tugs up her fingerless gloves, and cracks her knuckles. “Why not,” she asks in bemusement, and Kisame wastes no time leaping for her.


(“Oh gods, really?” Nagato demands, pressing his hands over his face in clear despair as the remaining members of Akatsuki file into the meadow.

Obito just snorts. “At least he’s having fun,” he says dryly, and a surreptitious glance across the field shows that Kakashi is watching his student toss around a deadly, homicidal missing-nin with no small amount of horror.

Obito would absolutely be lying if he said that didn’t factor in to the way he catches Nagato’s arm and keeps him from marching over to corral their wayward swordsman. When Nagato shoots him a look of deep betrayal, Obito offers him a smirk, tipping one shoulder in a shrug. “I thought you were the one who was so invested in peace by any means, Nagato.”

Nagato groans, and the hands go back over his face. “She’s using him as a weight, Obito! And he’s letting her!”

“True love comes in many forms,” Obito says, mock-wisely, and doesn’t even try to dodge the smack that Nagato aims at his head.)

Ex-Friends [Part 4]

Pairing: Peter x Reader
Warnings: Language, major feels lmao
A/N: Thank you guys for all the love on this series, I was pretty shocked by all the messages I’ve been getting! I am so glad you liked it - here’s the final part :D

Part One Part Two Part Three

-

“Goddamn it,” you muttered, staring dejectedly at your empty contacts box. With everything going on, you hadn’t thought to check and see if you had extras.

You didn’t like your glasses much, but the only thing you could think of was how much Peter liked them. He used to call you adorable when you wore them, obviously meaning it in a friend way, but it made your heart swell whenever he said that. You used to wear them all the time back when you two were friends, just because he liked them.

Over the past months though, you stuck with contacts. You liked them more, and it was ridiculous, but you wore them also to keep the memories of Peter away.

Today, you didn’t have a choice but to wear them, otherwise you’d be blind. You pushed them back up your nose and sighed, grabbing your bag and heading for the subway so you could get to school.

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O Romeo, Romeo...

So this is my contribution to Marichat May, now no one can tell me I never did anything for it xD I hope you enjoy :) 


“Ugh, this is so stupid, Tikki,” Marinette complained, crinkling the pages of the Literature book she was holding in her hands. “There’s no way I can make this convincing.”

“Not with that attitude,” Tikki giggled. “Relax, Marinette, you’ll be a great Juliette! Don’t push yourself too hard. Besides, you’ll have the book right in front of you in class; you don’t have to memorize anything.”

“I know,” Marinette sighed dejectedly. “But I have to practice this, at least. What if Adrien plays Romeo? I want him to be captivated by my Juliette, and that can’t happen if I just read straight from the book.”

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veilsofmist  asked:

for promptis: have you heard of the Hanahaki disease? It's a fictional disease that has the potential for some GREAT angst...

Author’s Notes: I had actually only heard of it in passing, so I had to research a little for this one. I hope I didn’t do it wrong??? orz

===

Love Blooms

===

It happens the first time on the night of the summer solstice festival, their junior year in high school.

They’re sitting up on top of the parking structure five blocks down from the festival grounds, waiting for the fireworks to start. It won’t be the best view in the city, but it gets them out of the crowds packing the street down below. They’ve done the festival games and the greasy food on sticks already; Prompto’s feet are throbbing with a dull ache from wandering around all day.

It’s nice, being up here above the press of people. There are a couple of other stragglers sharing the concrete overhang with them, but not many. When Prompto turns his head the right way, it’s almost like it’s just him and Noct.

The night’s warm and balmy; the wind is ruffling Noct’s hair. Noct’s face is tipped upward, and his eyes are the same dark blue as the sky, that last gasp before evening fades out into night.

Prompto wishes he could afford that camera he’s been eying. If he had it, he’d snap a shot right now. His whole chest aches, with some indescribable need to preserve this moment.

Noct turns toward him, just a slight angling of his head, and Prompto feels his face flush, like he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“What up with you?” Noct says, with that slanted smile he does so well, and Prompto’s tongue feels heavy, twisted up in knots.

Something’s tickling at the back of his throat.

“Nothing,” says Prompto. “Just want the fireworks to hurry up and start, you know?”

They do hurry up and start. They explode across the sky like someone’s lit the world on fire with magic. The thunder of them blooming covers up the sound of Prompto coughing, and he glances down into his palm, perplexed – wonders how the hell he swallowed a sylleblossom petal without knowing it.

===

Noct finally notices midway through senior year.

It’s the week before midterms, and if Prompto’s going to pass chem, he needs to cram like crazy. So Noct, eighteen now and still enamored of his brand new apartment, says, “Pack a bag and stay a couple days. We’ll buckle down and do some test prep.”

So Prompto packs a bag. His parents aren’t due back for another two weeks yet, so he doesn’t bother leaving a note.

He just slings his duffel over his shoulder and hops a train to Noct’s place. His thoughts are all over on the short ride in the posh elevator, but mostly they keep coming back around to what he’s going to do if Noct wants to share a bed.

Prompto’s figured it out by now; he’s got it bad for his best friend. Even if his waking mind was dumb as bricks, his sleeping mind would have clued him in. His dreams lately have been all Noct, all the time. He’s washed his sheets already three times this week.

That tickle is there in the back of his throat, all the way up the hall to Noct’s apartment. It’s so ever-present he hardly notices it anymore, but he can feel a thick kind of burning in his lungs, now, too. It feels like he’s just run six miles and can’t quite catch his breath.

Prompto reaches out and knocks on the door.

When Noct opens it, the warm light from the living room frames him. He’s smiling, crooked and kind of wry. Behind him, Prompto can see that there’s already snacks set out on the table, waiting for them.

It feels a little like coming home.

Prompto opens his mouth to say something, but suddenly that burning in his lungs is pressure, insistent and smothering. He tries to take a breath, but it wheezes in his throat. He coughs, and once he’s started he can’t stop.

He doubles over, there in the hallway; this time, there’s not just one or two petals. This time it’s dozens, a whole cascade of blue.

Prompto keeps going until he’s dizzy, keeps going until his lungs feel clear and he can gasp for air.

Noct loops an arm around him, holding him steady. He’s asking, voice low with concern, whether Prompto’s all right. His tone is comforting; his body heat feels like a miniature sun, pressed up against Prompto’s side.

Suddenly, Prompto can’t breathe again.

===

“No,” says Noct. “Flowers.”

His voice drifts in from the hallway, through the cracked-open door: one half of a phone call. Whatever this conversation is about, Prompto woke up in the middle of it – so now here he is, lying back in his bed, trying not eavesdrop.

“Yes, I realize how ridiculous that sounds!” Noct snaps. “I’d think it was something out of a kid’s book, if I hadn’t been watching him do it for literal months.”

There’s a pause. Then Noct’s voice comes again – softer, more strained. “I know. I’m sorry.” A pause. “He kept saying he was fine.”

It’s true. Prompto’s been trying to tell himself that for years now. It was second nature to tell Noct, too – grin and suppress the coughing, and try to ignore that his breathing’s been getting worse by the day.

“Because he passed out on the subway this afternoon,” Noct says. “Look, I just – can you come? He doesn’t have insurance, and I can’t get ahold of his parents.”

There’s silence in the hall. Then Noct says, “Thanks, Specs.”

There’s nothing else for a long time. Then, finally, the door creaks open. Noct looks tired. His eyes are red around the edges.

“Hey,” he says. “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

“Not bad,” says Prompto, but his voice is that breathy whisper that seems to be all he has the air for, these days.

“Yeah,” says Noct. “Well. I talked to Ignis. He’s gonna try and pull some strings to get you in to see the Citadel doctor.”

Before Prompto can even open his mouth to protest, Noct’s holding up a hand. “Just – let me do this, okay? I’m worried about you.”

Noct crosses over to the bed and gives him a weary smile – sets a hand on his. Prompto’s heart kicks into overdrive, and he does his best to offer a smile in return.

“Thanks, dude,” he rasps, and Noct’s fingers squeeze, and gods. Gods, now is the worst time ever for another coughing fit – but he doubles over, hacking and choking, and Noct rubs his back until he’s done.

===

The Citadel doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. Neither does the specialist they bring in from Altissia.

All they know is that there’s honest-to-gods plant matter in his lungs, and it’s screwing with their ability to actually be lungs, and that’s all stuff Prompto could have told them without the hundred and twenty-seven different tests they’ve put him through.

He got to see the x-rays, though, and those were sort of cool. Kinda pretty, like some abstract art piece.

He told his mom that, when they finally got her on the phone. He still feels bad for making her cry.

Prompto’s been sleeping a lot, lately. The cough medicine they’ve got him on is the good stuff, but even with it, he can barely hold it together. When it gets bad, he curls up on his side and presses a pillow against himself, tight as he can. Doctor’s orders, ever since he coughed so hard he cracked a rib.

The only good part of the whole thing is Noct.

They’ve moved Prompto into the Citadel for treatment, so they see each other every day, now. Noct sits by the bedside and holds his hand – rubs his thumb up and down over the knuckles. They watch dumb movies on TV, and sometimes they play video games, and when Noct gets tired of sitting in the chair, he comes and curls up on the bed, right by Prompto.

The doctor won’t give him a number, but there’s probably not much time left.

Prompto can’t think of a better way to spend it.

===

“Hey,” Prompto says, one afternoon, voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah?” says Noct.

Outside the window, the sun’s doing that thing it does just before sunset, when the light’s not quite orangey-gold. Something in Prompto twists at the thought of it. He always kind of wanted to take photos of the view from Noct’s balcony, at this time of day, after he saved up for that camera he wanted.

He guesses he’s never going to get the chance, now.

“I’ve been thinking,” says Prompto, and then he trails off. He doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“Prom?” says Noct.

“I know you’re the prince,” Prompto says at last. “And you can get pretty much whatever you want.”

“What the hell?” Noct starts to say, but Prompto lifts a hand to cut him off, and he falls silent.

“It’s true, dude,” says Prompto. “Just go with it for now, okay?” He stops again. Swallows. “But if you want anything of mine, like – for anything. Just to hold onto. You can have whatever you want.”

Noct’s staring at him, eyes wide and stricken. The look on his face is all naked hurt.

“You’ve still got the spare key, right?” says Prompto. “Just let yourself in. Mom booked passage back from Accordo, but I don’t think – she might not make it in time. So when you’re ready, just, like – just go and take whatever.”

Noct’s hand is clenched around his, so hard it hurts.

Prompto means to add more, but that burning sensation is back in his lungs again. He has to give in – coughs until he’s light-headed and reeling with lack of air.

He’s aware, vaguely, that Noct’s there right beside him. He’s aware of Noct’s fingers, reaching out to thread through his hair – softly, gently, the way you’d soothe a skittish puppy.

It feels nice.

Even after the ache in his lungs eases up, Noct stays there, just petting his hair.

Noct cries, but Prompto doesn’t call him out on it.

===

Noct stays the night.

He’s red-eyed and miserable, face puffy, and when Ignis comes to collect him at the end of the evening, he refuses to be moved.

The bed’s big enough for the both of them – the benefits of being holed up in the Citadel, instead of a hospital – and when the coughing wakes him, Noct’s there to rub his back while he works through it and press a cup of water into his hands when he’s done.

The coughing’s not so bad, though. He feels better than he has in a long time, that night.

In the morning, when he wakes, Noct’s arms are twined around him.

===

The new x-rays come back, and Prompto stares down at them.

He stares up at the doctor.

“What?” he says, dumbly.

“The growth receded sixty-five percent,” says the doctor. “In the past two days. We think it may be a reaction to the new medication you’re on.”

He’s aware of Noct at his side, a warm weight against him. He’s aware of Noct’s fingers twined through his own.

Prompto cries, but Noct doesn’t call him out on it.

===

Within a week, the x-rays show that his lungs are clear. Within two weeks, for the first time in years, he can take a full breath again without any pain.

He can get out of bed again and walk across a room. He goes a full 24 hours without coughing once.

When his mother makes it back from Accordo, he’s well enough to launch himself at her and cling, as hard as he can. She presses kisses into his hair, and promises that his father will be home next week, and rocks him the way she used to do when he was very small.

===

It’s afternoon, and the sun’s doing that thing it does just before sunset, when the light’s not quite orangey-gold.

Prompto’s off bed rest, finally; they’re hanging out at Noct’s place, eating popcorn and playing video games.

The scoreboard in 2 Fast 4 You is still up on the TV, showcasing how he just crashed a sleek red car into hundreds of cheering spectators, but suddenly Prompto’s attention is somewhere else. His gaze wanders from the screen to the window – to the way the light catches the dust motes in the air at just the right angle, turning them to liquid gold.

“Hey,” says Prompto. “C'mere a minute.”

He grabs Noct by the hand – drags him onto the balcony of his apartment. They take seventeen selfies, most with dumb faces, some very few actually decent. Insomnia stretches out behind them, buildings glinting glass and steel, cars no bigger than ants.

When Prompto leans over to show Noct the shots, their shoulders press together. He’s suddenly, painfully aware of how close they’re standing.

Noct’s face is bare inches from his own.

Noct’s lips are parted, just a little.

Noct leans down to kiss him, and in the instant before their lips touch, Prompto just has time to think how lucky he is.

Jihyun Kim/V x MC Headcanons

I have no explanation for this, other than I’m hopelessly in love with Jihyun Kim and I really wanted to do this as the self-indulgent trash that I am. I hope those of you that read it enjoy it, and that I’ve done him justice. Under the cut because this became way longer than I thought it would be;;;

Also note: Mild Good End V route spoilers


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the art of slaying dragons

“Cooking is at once child’s play and adult joy. And cooking done with care is an act of love.”
― Craig Claiborne

Nalu | Chef/RivalsToLovers AU
part 1/? 

words: 1475
rated: M
read: all

I can’t even believe it myself, but I am… back?! And it feels great. :’) I know I haven’t written in ages but I hope you haven’t forgotten me entirely my pals my buddies my frends… and this time around I’m writing about one of the great loves of my life: food. ;) Well, maybe not only about food. But there will be food. Yum.

 Cooking, despite what some might try to tell you, is an art.

It is art, and it is magic. There is art in an idea, in the careful execution, in the swirls and patterns of thoughtful arrangement on a simple plate. There is magic in old, scribbled recipes that endure time, in the love you pour into your creations, in that first bite. It is in the smiles of the people who taste your food, in the way they come to know you without ever having met you, because you took a part of your soul and held it to their lips.

The art of cooking—

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Resisting the urge to hurl her pen against the next wall, Lucy Heartfilia leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Maybe this was why she had not become a food critic in the end. As much as she loved writing, it did not come easy to her. It was hard. What she could do, however – what she had taught herself to do with passion and endurance – was to create dishes that spoke for her. Or at least she hoped that was what she did. Some days, she didn’t know anymore.

Maybe this wasn’t the best time in her life to be writing an article for a renowned food magazine, when she wasn’t even sure if she deserved to be in it. With a heavy sigh, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and tried to focus on the task at hand.

But she did not finish it that night, or the night after.


“Chef, appetizer for table six is ready to go.”

“Thanks, Cana. Gajeel, ready to go on the main?”

“Aye.”

“Cana, send it out. Gajeel, start in five. I want this energy to continue, alright team?”

“Yes, Chef!”

Lucy was in her element. She was in control. Everything happening was happening as it should; the magic (as she liked to call it) was flowing splendidly tonight. Yesterday’s doubts were still in the back of her mind, the anxiety over that new restaurant across the street a thorn in her side, but for tonight she pushed it all away. This year, she reassured herself, would be the year she would finally earn her first michelin star.

There was no one who could do it like Lucy Heartfilia. No restaurant that could rival The Fairy’s Tail, not in this street or this city or the entire fucking country. She had to believe this.

“Chef. Chef! Lucy!”

Blinking away her stupor, Lucy gave a start. She found herself confronted with the stern face of her head waitress, Aquarius. She swallowed. The scowl on her face bode nothing well.

“The guest at table seven asked to speak to you.”

All that Lucy heard in her tone and bearing was ‘What did you do wrong now, silly girl?’ but she merely nodded and skidded away from the woman’s likely wrath. Lucy might be her boss, but god, could Aquarius still be scary after all these years.

Scary, too, was the prospect of meeting that guest. It didn’t help that Aquarius had not hinted at the nature of the request. Would she be met with a complaint or a compliment?

Pondering this simple yet nerve-wrecking question, she made her way through the kitchen doors and out into the dining area, into her restaurant. For Lucy, it was the kitchen which felt most like home: this was where she lived as much as she worked. But here, amidst neatly decked tables and careful arrangements, amidst the sound of conversation, softly clinking cutlery and low laughter, here was where the soul of her restaurant lay. It felt good to remember that from time to time. Here, what she did felt easy and joyful and right. The blood, sweat and tears that had brought her to this point lay behind her, forgotten easily in the face of what her work could accomplish. Steaming plates, inviting dishes, colourful details… it all looked so simple, despite the hours of thought so many people had put into it. Her food brought people together; it made them smile.

And that was all she had ever wanted, in a way.

The table she was headed for was one of the small ones close to the wall, with the soft emerald cushions. There was only one person sitting there, comfortably lodged between table and wall, looking entirely at peace with the world. Some of the tension dropped off Lucy’s shoulders. His eyes moved and caught her approaching, and the smile that spread across his face lit up his eyes in a way that was, she found, entirely pleasant. A very good, content smile.

Her initial impression, however, was quickly redacted when she arrived at the table and he opened his mouth. 

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lunenn  asked:

I'm not sure if you're taking prompts but what if Scully gave up William with a photo of them together? T.T you would write that so well!

I’m always beside myself with joy when I get prompts. So yes, I take them :D Thank you so, so much for this one. It might not be what you probably wanted, but I hope you like it anyway. 

“It’s you.”

Dana Scully has imagined this moment a million times: meeting her son. She has imagined it even before she gave him up. Before she gave up. Find me, she had pleaded silently with the boy, whose curious eyes were a mirror of her own. Instead he had thrown her a toothless grin, kicked his tiny feet at her, and grabbed for her hair. Her son, then, was not a mind-reader. There was nothing special about him except that he was her son, her own flesh and blood, conceived against all odds; a miracle in its purest form.

She has imagined this. She has dreamed about it when he was two years old and young enough to forgive her. She has imagined it when he was six years old and melancholy propelled her thoughts forward; guilt and a sense of having done right by him preventing her from doing the unthinkable. She’s craved it when he was 12 years old and nothing made sense anymore. Her reasons for giving him up nothing more than smoky clouds, burnt ashes in their enemy’s ashtray. This, now, is not how she imagined it.

“It’s you.” The boy with the same curious eyes repeats. His voice wavers now, for a short moment, as if uncertain. He cannot know her, Scully thinks. There is no reason, no logic in it, and she can’t find the words to tell him this or anything else. His lips pout in the same way his father’s do. His eyebrows furrow in the same way hers do, she has to admit. It’s logical that she recognizes him; his features are her own, are Mulder’s. The boy, without taking his eyes off her, hunts through his pockets and produces a crumpled up, slightly torn piece of paper. He unfolds it, carefully, and Scully gasps. It’s not a piece of paper; it’s a photograph.

“That’s you.” William smiles at her, softly.

“It’s me.” Scully croaks out as she instinctively reaches out for the picture. She had put the picture inside his small bag back then without thinking about it. She figured his new mother would tear it up, throw it away. Scully, even then, knew that sending the photo of her holding a tiny William with him was a risk. A risk, however, that she just had to take. She had wanted his new mother to know, to see, that she, too, had loved William. Never had she dared to hope that William would even see it.

“Hi,” her son, who is already taller than her, surprises her again by reaching out his hand, “it’s nice to finally meet you.” Scully’s hand hovers for a moment before the boy grabs it, shakes it heartily. His smile turns into a full blown grin. Mulder. It’s Mulder written all over his face and reminding her, bitterly, why she’s here. Why she broke the promise she made to herself, to this child, to stay away from him.

“William,” his name feels strange on her tongue; usually she thinks it, mumbles it in her sleep, and when she uses it, it’s not to address him. He eyes her, ever curious, and waits. He knows. He can’t possibly know or understand, and yet he does. “I’m here because… I didn’t want to disturb – to change,” Scully sighs; angry at herself for being here, for not finding the words. She’s furious that this child, her baby, is a stranger. A stranger who shares her blood and who is her only chance to save Mulder.

“You need my help, don’t you? Is it because,” this time he pauses, looks at the faded picture of himself and a mother he never knew. Scully wonders what he sees, what he feels, when he looks at it,“ my father. Is it because of him? He’s not in this picture.” William holds it up as if she didn’t know. She had her mother take that photograph so she could send it to Mulder. Except he didn’t have an address. She decided to keep it until he came home. He just never did.

“Yes, he's… he’s very sick. I- where are your parents? I need to-”

“There is no one.” William tells her evenly. She stares at him. At this boy, who clutches a picture she gave him once, a lifetime ago.

“What do you mean there is no one? Where are your parents?” She hates this word, she realizes, as her eyes find the picture in his hand again.

“My parents… got divorced when I was young. Father died a few years after that. My mother… she wasn’t well,” he pauses and shuffles his feet, “my aunt and I decided to put her in a nursing home.”

“You- you’re all on your own out here?” William nods as if it’s nothing. It’s his reality and the only thing he knows.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” he chuckles, running a hand through his auburn hair before he glances at her, “but I knew you’d come back one day. I just knew it. You could say I had a hunch.” Shivers run down Scully’s arms, down her back. She can see Mulder grin; wants to introduce him to their son, who is so much like him, full of hope and ideas.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” she breathes out and William grants her another smile that lights up his whole face. She hopes he’ll never stop. She doesn’t deserve this, she thinks, but she doesn’t want it to end. “I know someone who… who is just like that. Like you.” She finds herself smiling at the boy; her boy. “I’d love for you to meet him.”

“Then let’s go- you never even told me your name.”

“Dana. Dana Scully.” She thinks how strange it is to introduce herself to her son, but he nods at her. He lifts the picture and examines it closely; his eyes drifting from the frozen image of them and the real her in front of him. He mouths her name, trying it out, before he nods again.

“Let’s go, Dana.” He says, closing the door behind him and walking towards her.

“You don’t need to pack anything? Tell anyone? Your aunt? I understand if you want to see your mother, William. If you want to see her. I don’t know when we’ll be back. We have… time.” They don’t, really.

“I have everything I need right here with me.” William assures her, putting the picture back into his pocket. Then he stops suddenly, his eyes dark, his brows furrowed.

“What is it? Did you forget anything?”

“No, I… are we going on a plane?” Scully nods carefully.

“I’ve never… I mean once. I’ve flown once or maybe twice. It kind of scares me,” Scully is trying to come up with something. Assure him that flying is, statistically speaking, the safest form of travel. She could explain just how flying works. Before she can say another word, though, William starts speaking again,

“Could I… on the plane… could I hold your hand maybe?” He blushes a deep red.

“Oh! Of course,” Scully assures him with a nervous laugh, “Of course, you can William.” And his whole, lanky body relaxes.

“Why don’t we… practice?” Scully says, blushing herself now; this is another risk she is taking. Like the picture she left with him all these years ago. It might not turn out the way she wants it to. But she has to try. She just has to. She reaches out her hand to him, leaves the decision to him. He stays quiet this time and she is ready to take it back, to just go on with him in tow, without touching him. But William takes her hand and together they walk towards her car.

This is not how she imagined it. It’s not at all like the dreams she’s had.

But this time it’s real.

2

Beatrice

117

I can’t explain the look on my mother’s face when she opened the door and saw the two of us.
The only word I can really think of is unimpressed.
She didn’t say anything, stood there with the door wide and myself and Harry on the outside, still hand in hand, forcing a smile as though me appearing there was casual when it was anything but. We all knew it was anything but.
I was half expecting her to slam the door in my face and say nothing more about it, but instead, she just walked away, leaving the door wide open and then sauntering into the kitchen.

“She’s so fucking rude.” Harry whispered harshly, giving me a small push inside.

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Ok so I am neck-deep into the Michelle x peter ship and I really really want her to have a small appearance in Infinity War (won’t happen I know but anyways) and just up and tell him she knows he’s Spider-Man and not to go up there in the Battlefield and die
I mean that would be such an adorable scene?? Like he runs off to put on his spider suit and she follows him and catch him in his suit without the mask on and just… Ask him not to go
He’s running obvs because there are super villain coming to earth to destroy it and he’s gotta go but she just grabs him and slams him into a wall or something and he drops his bag and she ask him not to go, why would he go he’s 15 he shouldn’t die like this
She tells him she fears he won’t come back and tells him that she doesn’t want to loose him. Not like this. And he is just so suprised because wow she is really scared?? She clearly cares for him so he doesn’t know what to do and she slammed him into a wall and know he is trapped between her arms and she is a bit taller than him and her face is so close and she speaks low like she is telling him a secret and his mind goes blank because MJ?? Is so worried about him and he feels the urge to hold her and so he does. He puts his hands around her face gently and tells her that he has to go because last time super villain attacked NY there were so few Avengers and they couldn’t fight all of them and protect people and so a lot of them died in the destruction and he wants to help save people
He tells her that he has power and has a responsibility to use them to help in a time of need like this (cue ‘that is the last thing uncle ben told me before he died because of my irresponsibility’)
And he just craddle her face and doesn’t speak above a wisper and she just hold his hands and he really wants to kiss her
But it’s not the time to do it so instead he asks her to remind him to do something he really wants to do right now when he gets back and she just looks at him frowning her brows a little and ask him what it is? And why wait to do it if he might not come back ? He promises he will because he won’t be on the offensive he will stay on the défensive saving as many people as he can while the Avengers do their thing. And he promises he’ll be back and to make good on his promise he’ll wait to do the thing he really wants to do right now and asks her ‘will you remind of that when I come back?“ And she just takes a deep breath and says 'sure I will’ and she locks eyes with him her right hand holding onto his suit (right under his arm, next to his chest) and left hand holding unto his hand by her face and he just takes a deep breath and kisses her forehead while closing his eyes taking it all in, hoping he’ll be able to stay true to his promise. And he wispers right in front of her lips (and he can feel the small breath she lets out and she didn’t know she was holding it) and tells her “I really want to do something like that, somewhere else” and she locks eye with him again and she squeezes her hands where she is holding him and just let’s out a small “you’re a looser” but he knows she means something else. And she knows it too. And hugs her, tight, standing on this toes,feeling her warmth, his head resting on the crook of her neck taking in her smell, his hands are in her hair and she holds him tight as well and closes her eyes and doesn’t want to let go but he releases her and gently push her away. He gives her is bag and ask her to keep it safe for him.
He pulls on his mask and runs of the stairs to the rooftop.

And MJ just stays there for a minute holding onto his bag and hoping he’ll be back to do what he wanted to do, and if she guessed right from what he said she’d really really like him to do it as well.

politicalmamaduck  asked:

Prompt smut ideas: doing it for the first time in an arranged marriage; or in the library ;p

HOW ABOUT BOTH

It’s been three weeks. Three weeks married to the man now known again as Ben Solo–though he fools no one, least of all his wife. This man is still Kylo Ren, Jedi Father Galaxy killer, and no amount of supervision and diplomacy will change that.

The old order is dead, and with it its outdated customs. That’s why Rey knows this arranged marriage is for nothing. It was an absurd proposition, and Rey feels like all they’ve done is invited the wolf in among the sheep, no wool cloak needed.

But, he hasn’t touched her. They share a room, and Rey was ready enough to fulfill her part of things. The chaste kiss at the closing of the ceremony, and the less chaste one that followed at the final raising of glasses at the reception, confirmed well enough what she’d known to be true since Kylo pulled off his mask those two years before: He was a pretty thing, and that mouth was made for kissing.

But that was all. They both moved in for the brief touching of lips that sealed them as husband and wife, and it had been Kylo that had tugged her up against his body when the cry went up and near empty glasses were raised: To a united front! To the end of war and a beginning of peace! To hope!

He had a hand resting lightly at the small of her back–for show only, surely–but the cheer surged something through him. She felt that well enough. And he wrapped that long, thick arm around her middle and dragged her up his body and kissed her. More shouts rang out at that and her wine spilled on her dress–but Rey hadn’t cared. That kiss, possessive and hot and achingly soft, that kiss was something that she liked. 

So when they returned to their room that night, and Rey’s drink-clumsied hands finally pulled her dress from her body, she was startled at his hand laid over hers as she began to work at her underclothes. Stopping her. He left the room to change and made a pathetic bed on the too-small sofa. Rey changed in front of him–because why wouldn’t she?–and climbed into their bed.

Their bed.

Where she has slept alone, for three weeks.

She is sometimes angry about this, and sometimes sad. Usually she is frustrated. Does he think her untouched? That he’s saving her from some trauma by refusing to consummate what was already forced on her? 

Well, she isn’t, and fucking a pretty thing with lips that make her shiver in their softness might be the only perk to being married off to the Scourge of the Galaxy. It’s not gallant. It’s annoying.

Which is probably why she acts before she can think when she sees him sitting alone in the sparse little library. He’s reading a book–a rare luxury in these times–and holding it with such care in those large, blunted hands. It makes her see red.

Her hand fists in his hair and she drags him up from his seat. She tugs him into the nearest aisle and tosses him against the high bookshelf. He humors her, and knocks back hard against it. She’s tall, but he’s taller. She’s strong, but he is so much stronger. 

She pokes him in the chest, not really sure what she’s going to reprimand him for. She pokes again, but no words come.

“Spit it out, wife. I was just about to finish that chapter.” Those wide eyes narrow at her and that mouth, that mouth. He pouts when he’s angry. Actually pouts. She could bite him for it.

She snarls. “I’m not your wife. Not yet, and you know it.”

Kylo laughs at her. “I thought you considered the old ways dead? Why do you suddenly see the need to rut to make it official?”

“I–I don’t.”

“Then let me get back to my book.” He pouts harder.

She bites him.

What comes next is what she has wanted. Dragged up that body again, like at the reception, like in her wettest of dreams. He turns and crushes her into the bookcase behind her, and she groans. He’s broad and inelegant and pulls no punches. She’d probably the only one who could withstand this without breaking in half. That makes her feel powerful.

She kisses him again, because that’s what is fueling every bit of this. The kiss that won’t leave her alone. The kiss that follows her to bed every night and leaves her wanting. Why would he kiss her like that and then not lay another finger on her? Why, other than to be cruel?

Because I’m cruel, drifts across her mind, and she bites him again. There’s so much give to those full lips.

It’s not how she thought this would finally happen, him dragging down her trousers so fast the fabric burns her skin, her hands fumbling with the fastenings of his, their mouths refusing to separate, but it is. He fucks her against a bookcase that will leave very regimented bruises down her back: a long, straight line across her shoulder blades, the middle of her back, the top of her ass. And she kisses him through it all. The rest of him is nice enough, and if she can convince him to crawl his hulking ass off the sofa and into their bed, she might explore it more thoroughly later.

But what she wants now is his lips, and she takes them. Shows him that he can’t just kiss her like that and leave her be. Rey knows the value of wreckage and her now, completely, finally husband is salvage she can work with.

The old order might be dead, its arranged marriages and truces and alliances counting for very little. But passion–the Dark that still simmers in the man coming apart between her thighs–that can be honed into a murky Grey chain Rey can wrap around her fist. 

Kylo Ren assures that, link by link, with every kiss he gives her, every kiss she takes. He may be cruel, but she is crueler, and she’s not done with him yet.

Luck of My Life

So I finally had the time to make it… Here’s chapter 1 of the childhood friends AU idea I had before- just in time for day 12 of adrinette month! <3 These kiddos are 9 in this chapter. 

Chapter 1

Adrien couldn’t stop crying as he stared at the remains of his toy in his shaking hands. This was the third time this week. He so badly wanted to scream, but he was worried that it would attract more attention. He may be allowed to cry, but he drew the line at wailing. He was an Agreste, he could stay strong. No one needed to know what he could do.

His sniffling sounds brought over his mother though.

“Oh kitty,” she said soothingly. “Don’t cry. I’ll buy you a new one. You can control it next time.”

He gave her a sad look that displayed all the longing he had to be normal. “But mama, I can’t! I’ll just destroy it again. I’m a monster.”

His mother gently shook him from his despair. “You’re not a monster, sunshine. Life may have given you this power, but it doesn’t make you a monster. You have a kind heart, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

She cupped her hands over his, and took away the toy’s remains. “Now, let me take this. I’ll go buy you a new one. Thankfully no one saw you destroy that- they might not understand.”

She kissed his forehead and guided him to the playground swings. “I’ll be back. I love you.”

“I love you too, mama.” Adrien gave her a small lopsided smile while wiping away his tears. “Thank you.”

He sighed as he watched his mother leave. He was alone again. It wasn’t crowded in the park today- only 3 other children were there. None seem to be paying him much attention. One kid was off at the sand box building some sort of castle as he hummed under his breath. Another kid was hiding behind a tree, writing something down on a notepad she carried along while watching the boy in the sand box.

The last child was holding a cat stuff toy on one hand as she swung across the monkey bars. Adrien flinched when he realized that her gaze was on him.

Did she see him destroy the toy?

Fear suddenly gripped his heart. This was what his parents warned him about, people will finally look at him differently. He was going to be Paris’ monster. The child that destroys everything he touches. The child that brings bad luck.

He braced himself for the inevitable scream from the girl, but instead she gave him a toothy grin. He stared at her for a few seconds before giving her a small, confused yet questioning smile.

It must have looked weird because she giggled and dropped herself off from the monkey bars with a graceful flourish.

She approached him enthusiastically, not showing any signs of fear. Adrien relaxed, she couldn’t have seen him destroy the toy. But as she came closer, she had a glint of excitement in her eyes that showed that she knew something.

“I saw you.” She said simply.

Adrien’s heart dropped. He gripped the chains on the swing and readied himself to run away. The young girl realized what he was about to do and consoled him.

“Oh no, no, no. Don’t go! I won’t tell anyone.” She said frantically. “I-I just wanted to say that- that, you have a gift!”

He stared at her smiling face sadly, and almost regretfully, he told her. “It’s not a gift.”

“But it is!” the girl insisted fervently. “That’s what my parents tell me.”

“You don’t understand!” he said bitterly, new tears now streaming down his face. He embarrassedly hid his face in hands.  

“But I do!” she said patiently. “I have a gift too.”

He raised his head and looked into her eyes- her bright bluebell eyes. “You do?”

She sat down on the ground in front of him and smiled. “I do.”

Adrien gaped at her. “I’m not alone?”

“You’re not alone.” She repeated.

Adrien just stared at the girl in front of him, taking in her midnight dark hair, her gorgeous eyes, and her pretty freckles. This girl was just like him. And for a moment, everything was okay.

“Why are you sitting on the ground?” Adrien questioned after long moments of silence. “Aren’t you worried you’ll get dirty?”

“Well, there is not other seats around, and I didn’t want to leave you alone when you are sad.” She said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Almost at once, Adrien shot up from the swing and said, “Then sit here! You shouldn’t get your pretty dress dirty.”

“No, no, it’s alright!” she waved away his offer. “You were there first, it wouldn’t be fair.”

“N-no, I insist.” Adrien gave her a solemn look. “My daddy said that that’s what a gentleman would do.”

The girl contemplated it, “No, it’s alright. I’m fine on the ground.” She said firmly.

Adrien hesitated, but upon seeing her steely eyes, he gave in. “Alright, if you won’t take it, I’ll just sit down here with you.”

Adrien plopped down on the ground and gave her a friendly bump on the shoulder. “I’m Adrien. Ca-can we be friends?”

“Mari.” She responded, returning the bump with a wide beam. “And of course!”

They stayed there for a while, just talking about anything. Before today, Adrien didn’t allow himself to believe that he could ever make a friend. His first real friend.

It would be about half an hour before Mari’s parents would come by, and Adrien tried to make the most of it by joining her in the playground.

“I have to go,” Mari said as she saw her parents approaching. “But before I do, I want to give you something.”

She pulled him into the playground castle. It was a closed place, hiding them away from the rest of the slowly gathering crowd.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” she said nervously as she stared at him through her bangs.

He gave her the sincerest look he could possibly muster. “I promise.”

“Okay.” She said softly.

She stared at her hands, slowly opening and closing it as she shook ever so slightly.

“Uh, Mari?” Adrien asked questioningly.

“Shhh.” She said, giggling quietly. “I’m trying to focus.”

A bright red glow covered her hands. “Now, what’s your favorite color?”

“Black and green.”

She grinned and the red glow grew. All of the sudden, a stuff toy dropped out of nowhere onto her awaiting hands.

Adrien stared at it.  It was a medium sized black cat stuff toy. The ears were long and pointy and the electric green eyes were a little too comical to be realistic. A mischievous quality was almost visible and familiar to him, grinning at him in a liberating way.

“It’s for you.” Mari said shyly.

Adrien withdrew the hands that he didn’t even notice was reaching out to touch it. “I couldn’t.”

Mari’s face fell. “Oh, I understand. It’s alright.”

“No!” Adrien said anxiously. “It’s- it’s just that I’m worried it will get destroyed.”

“It won’t.” Mari said surely. “It’s my gift.”

Adrien tentatively stretched out to touch it. The moment his fingers hit the soft furry toy, he instinctively pulled back his hands as if he was afraid the toy would burn. When it didn’t, he let out a gasp and he took it slowly from Mari, cuddling it close to him.

“Your power is beautiful.” Adrien said gently.

“You’re beautiful.” Mari murmured.

Adrien felt a warm feeling spread itself across his chest. This girl didn’t see him as a monster. The most beautiful girl in the world thought he was beautiful.  Adrien felt lighter than he’s ever been.

“Thank you.” Adrien tried to put a much emotion as he could in those two words.

She only smiled tenderly in response.

When Mari’s parents arrived, Adrien almost couldn’t bear to say goodbye. But after assuring him that she would be there the next day, he beamed and shyly gave her a gentlemanly kiss on her hand.

“Goodbye, my lady.” He said to her retreating back. “See you tomorrow.”

….

Only, he didn’t. The next day, his family boarded themselves on a flight to China to find a healer- someone who can cure him of his gift. He came back 2 years later, without a cure, and without his mother.

He wouldn’t see his lady for another 10 years. By then, he didn’t even remember her face or her name.

He only remembered her eyes, her smile, her power and her kindness.

He remembered so little, but without a doubt in his mind, he knew he found her that fateful day he decided to use his powers for good.

He found her- his lady.

Ladybug, whoever you are behind that mask, I love you. 


Chapter 2 here

diversemediums  asked:

How will our newlyweds handle the aftermath of their first night together in The Black Watch? Will Claire come out of her shell and surprise us all?


The Black Watch: Part 4:

Pulling the duvet up and over her head, Claire listened to the soft swish of the dog’s tail against the small rug that sat in front of the fire. Bran liked to keep her company, and usually she liked it in return.

Covering her ears, she tried to block out the noise, all manner of disturbance disrupting her calm.

True to his word, Jamie hadn’t touched her again –leaving her, instead, to her own devices.

Instead she’d begun to wake, alone and covered in a cold sheen of sweat, her mind replaying erotic imagery that she just couldn’t shake. Trembling, she curled her knees up to her chest and felt beside her, the small dent in the mattress evidence that Jamie had not long been up and away. His side of the bed was still warm, the scent of his flesh buried deep into the down of the duvet.

Her thighs, drawn together by the pulse that throbbed solidly between them, curled towards her chest as she tried to contain the feelings that had been steadily mounting inside of her.

Shrugging her shoulders, Claire slid herself out from under the covers in preparation for the day.

The water in the basin beside the fire was cold, but Claire dipped her hands in nonetheless, ensuring that her skin didn’t freeze too much before washing her face and neck. Shivering, she pulled the cloth from where it sat on the arm of the chair and began to dry the cold droplets from her skin.

Gathering her sewing basket, she pulled the delicate wool of her blanket around her shoulders and curled up on the chair. Usually Claire would do her darning downstairs in the company of Jenny and the others, but today she felt the need for some privacy. Her heart was still racing from her dream, the blood in her veins boiling beneath her skin.

Her hands shook as she ran the coarse fabric of Jamie’s socks through her fingers, poking her fingers through the small holes he’d managed to create with his toes. Claire wriggled her hips, trying desperately to concentrate on her task and not the unspoken devil that seemed to have taken up residence in her tummy.

“Ow!” She yelped, the needle pricking the skin of her fingertip as she lost focus for just a second. Dropping the sock, needle and thread, Claire curled her knees up to her chest as she sucked the injured article into her mouth.

Feeling daft, she closed her eyes letting the damp digit fall from her lips before bending down to collect the limp sock from the floor. Claire continued on, managing to ignore the persistent niggle that had begun to irritate her now.

One sock down, Claire placed her sewing kit safely down on the mantle over the fireplace and paced in front of the fire. The pile that she had to complete seemed to mock her as she puffed and panted stomping her feet against the neatly woven rug. Her discomfort had only grown and instead of dissipating once she’d busied herself it had solidified, causing her skin to tingle periodically, gooseflesh rising on the tops of her thighs as they brushed together.

Below, Jenny glanced towards the ceiling as the rhythmic creaking stopped and started once more. She smiled to herself recalling the conversation she’d overheard between her brother and father only days before.

Jamie had been worried about his approach to Claire after their first *unsuccessful* interaction. In an attempt to comprehend the subtleties in his new marriage he’d approached his father for some sage advice. Jenny, well trained in the art of eavesdropping, had busied herself far enough away that she wouldn’t be noticed, but close enough to hear their conversation.

Having some idea as to Claire’s dilemma, Jenny hitched her skirts and climbed the stairs quietly. She opened the door carefully, hunching her shoulders as she leant her head around the entranceway.

Keeping her voice low, Jenny stuck one foot over the threshold as she approached Claire cautiously.

“I noticed ye didna come to join us, Claire,” she said, breaking the silence.

Turning her head slightly, Claire nodded over her shoulder at Jenny, her hands clenching in the loose fabric of her night-shift as she swayed to and fro. “No, I just wanted some time alone,” she replied smiling slightly as she faced Jenny fully.

“Get yersel’ dressed, lass,” Jenny asked, waving her hand towards the wardrobe as she marched towards Claire’s dresser, “I think we need to have a wee chat, aye?”

Nodding, Claire did as she was told, unable and unwilling to put up any resistance against her – more than compelling – sister-in-law.

The morning air was warm as Claire walked slightly behind Jenny her mind flitting all over the place as she tried to enjoy the fresh air and Jenny’s company.

“You’re restless, Claire,” Jenny interjected, stating the obvious as they stood at the edge of the very field Jamie and Brian were hard at work in. Waving at her brother and father, Jenny bumped her shoulder gently against Claire’s in a familial show of camaraderie.

“He’s restless too.”

Claire’s eyes held Jamie’s as he bowed, winked and continued with his work. Her heart ached a little as she rested her palms on the fence allowing her thick curls to fall over her ears.

“He was asking da for advice the other day so you can trust me when I say this, Claire. He’s a good man, and I’m no’ just saying so because he’s my brother.” Placing her hand on top of Claire’s she squeezed lightly. “He’s too scared to touch ye again, for fear that ye’ll reject him…or that he’ll hurt you again.”

Staying quiet, Claire let Jenny’s warm touch soothe her as she allowed her words to sink in.

“That feeling ye have, the one inside you that willna leave ye be,” Jenny continued, a knowing glint in her eye, “you canna ignore it, Claire. Let it guide ye instead. I promise you, trust in it, and trust in Jamie.”

Jenny left her then, returning to the big house with an impressive smile on her face.

Dipping her toes into the hot water, Claire slid the robe from her shoulder as she sunk into the tub, the steam rising around her as she turned her face towards the fire. She’d taken Jenny’s advice to heart and had spent hours preparing for Jamie’s return eager to attempt intimacy once more.

But the sun had long since set and Jamie had yet to turn in.

Pushing the disappointment away, Claire reached for the soap rubbing the thick bar against her sodden skin as she washed the dirt from the day away.

She closed her eyes, letting the soft lap of the water lull her. The fire kept the tin warm enough that the bath retained its heat. Basking in the glow, Claire dunked her head under, letting her hair float around her face as her feet dangled over the edge. With her ears plugged by the water, Claire failed to notice as Jamie finally appeared.

Closing the door behind him, Jamie held his nerve. Undoing the buttons on his waistcoat, he plucked it from his shoulders, unbuckling his belt next as he neatly folded his dusty clothes and placed them carefully over the arm of the chair. Sitting, he toed off his boots before stripping the shirt from his back leaving him naked as the day he was born.

Upon hearing the noise, Claire peeked her head over the metal edge of the bathtub, her nose butting against the moist, tepid surface as she glanced over to watch her naked husband. Hidden, Jamie could only see her bright whisky eyes as they slid over his nude form.

“Ye waited up for me, sassenach?” Jamie asked, seeing her lost for words.

Smiling coquettishly, her mouth still hidden from view, Claire nodded. Pulling herself up further, her fingers gripped the rim, her knuckles going white with the pressure of holding her weight steady. “I miss you,” she whispered, her wet hair bobbing on the surface of the water as she levered herself so that her elbows now rested along the top of the bath, bringing her head and shoulders fully upright.

Raising himself from the chair, Jamie strode over to Claire and knelt beside her, reaching his hand out to run his finger along the length of her sodden cheek.

“Do you?” He returned, a hint of humour in his tone.

“You spoke to your father about me?” She asked, curious as to what had transpired between the Frasers.

Blushing, the red stain ran along Jamie’s cheeks and down his neck as he dipped his head a little, his forehead coming into contact with Claire as his hands snaked further down her bare body.

The ache intensified as Jamie’s large palm ghosted against the side of her breast.

“Aye,” he whispered in return, his lips resting softly over hers as he wetted them with his tongue, tasting Claire for the first time in weeks. “I wanted to ken how to be a good husband to ye, Claire. HIm and my mam loved one another deeply and I hope,” he paused, placing one delicate kiss against her mouth before continuing on, “one day we might have the same bond.”

Sloshing the water surrounding her, Claire pushed herself up, Jamie’s words warming her inside and out as she joined her lips fully against his now, her hands tangling in his hair as she dragged him forwards.

Doing as Jenny said, he allowed the neediness that she’d been holding back since their arrival at Lallybroch to take precedence over the fear.

“Can I wash you?” She mumbled, pulling back a little now, panting with the exertion of her forceful embrace. Taking a moment just to breath, Claire realised suddenly how little she knew of Jamie. She’d learned, of course, about him as a man, but his flesh was a mystery to her.

Wanting to memorise every inch of him she climbed from the bath and ushered him into the cooling waters, intent on her mission.

Allowing her to take some form of control, Jamie obeyed her signals, plunging himself into the bath in front of her, his back to her chest as Claire lathered up the sponge. Gazing around at her, he reached his hand backwards to keep contact with her, tickling his fingers along the smooth expanse of her arm, the tips of them gathering up the droplets of water her own dunk had left upon her skin.

“Beautiful,” he sighed, blinking rapidly as she began massaging suds into the dirt that’d smeared over his chest during the day.

Claire smiled, a small thing that tugged at the corners of her mouth as her cheeks began to flame under his scrutiny. “Not too bad yourself,” she returned, her tone breathless as if she were struggling to speak.

Leaning forwards, the peaks of her breasts brushed against Jamie’s back as her hands reached below the water line to wash his submerged belly. Trying to contain herself, Claire swallowed, her heart picking up paces as it thudded harder beneath her chest.

He was aroused. His hard flesh bobbing against the back of her hand as she ran the sponge over his groin. Trying to remain calm, she attempted to ignore the sight of him, only failing when she heard him moan lightly. Turning her head she could see his pained expression. Head falling back against her shoulder, Jamie had his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open as if he were trying desperately to stay still.

“It’s alright, Claire,” he groaned, unable to keep the lust from his tone as he twisted towards her, causing her to drop the sponge in the water and raise her hand to take hold of his. “Ye dinna need to stop…”

“Take me to bed, Jamie,” she stuttered, the throb between her legs intensifying at the mere thought of him holding her against his chest now. Gone were the awful memories of their first encounter, replaced now with a softer image of Jamie, one moulded by the gentleness of his father instead of the merciless Black Watch.

She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, she could feel it in the air that whirled around her in their large master bedroom.

“As you wish,” Jamie returned, quickly rising from tub to take Claire into his arms as they clasped each other close, the moisture making their combined skin slippery as Jamie walked Claire slowly towards their bed.

“I promise–” he began, tipping his head to the left as he nudged her nose.

“I know,” she interjected, her thighs hitting the solid base of the bed as her hands came round to grip his arse. “I trust you, Jamie.”

Wrapping his arms around her hips, Jamie placed Claire gently onto the bed, on top of the sheets, opening her legs with his knees as he crawled over her. Brian had opened his eyes, talking to him about the *proper* way to love a woman. Instead of –coming from behind–, he’d been advised to place himself face to face with Claire, making him more able to watch her. Being more conscious of his movements meant that he’d be able to ensure her pleasure.

Claire lay silently beneath him, her eyes half closed as she ran her hands up and down Jamie’s back. Waiting patiently. Content to have broken the divide that’d separated them, she was happy for Jamie to take his time.

With his father’s advice at the forefront, Jamie slowly pushed his way forwards, twisting his hips upwards stopping just shy as he captured her lips, kissing her passionately until he felt her legs wrapping around his waist.

Reassured that she wanted him, Jamie pressed his way inside her.

Biting down on Jamie’s bottom lip, Claire made a quiet keening noise as her muscles tensed. Pulling her legs closer to her chest, she kept her bottom levered to allow Jamie free movement against her, the pain nowhere near as harsh as she’d remembered it.

Breathing through his nose, Jamie swivelled his hips as gently as he was able, pushing and pulling himself against Claire, holding his weight over her as the pleasure built within him.

Muted gasps filled the room as Claire uncovered the small place inside of her that had been plaguing her dreams. Shuddering with the thrill of it, she rolled her arse upwards, thrusting her hips flush against Jamie as the twinge of something incredible bubbled beneath her skin.

Claire tensed as the sensation grew, her vision blurring as she opened and closed her eyes as she tried to make sense of the ever increasing titillation.

As the room seemed to tilt and swirl below her, Claire cried out, oblivion claiming her for seconds before allowing her body to collapse, fatigue overtaking the pleasure.

Jamie stilled for as long as he was able, his heart pounding as he watched Claire. The whole time he’d been hyper aware of her wellbeing. Cautious of every movement he made, not wanting to hurt her as he had done before. Safe in the knowledge that he’d shielded her from that, he finally let himself go.

Claire smiled, opening her bleary eyes now as she felt Jamie climax above her. Placing the flat of her palm against his cheek, she traced the heated sallows of his face, cementing the vision of him as he panted, trying to fill his lungs with as much oxygen as they could take.

Falling to the left, Jamie shimmied himself and Claire under the covers, keeping her close to his chest as she dozed soundlessly against him.

Kissing her forehead, he linked his legs with hers beneath the duvet and joined her in slumber, the crackle of the fire the only noise remaining as silence engulfed the lovers.

The Minute He Walked Into My Office

Inspired by the gorgeous wintershock manip set that’s gone around today (’m trying to link but can’t figure out how on mobile argh!!) - I did a thing. Largely in thanks to my perfect muse @bloomsoftly I already have a lot brewing for this, but for now I can offer a little start of a noir scene. 


 It’s not time travel but it is the period AU that I’ve been dreaming of. 

 Rating: G 

Words: 1294 

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Bucky Barnes 


It was after eight pm and all the neighboring offices had gone dark for the night. Darcy was running on a half pot of stale coffee and an old wrapper of crackers dressed up under a thin layer of sandwich spread for the past eight hours and it was all starting to put a rock in her gut. Maybe she should start letting men twirl her round the dance halls again for dimes and quarters. It was easier work than hoofing across all the boroughs and Staten Island combined every day.

Darcy toed out of her heels and hiked her legs up onto her desk to get a better look at the state of her stockings - runs galore and puddle splashes up the back of her seams - when the door to the office swung open. A man, young and especially handsome with dark circles under his eyes that almost matched the army green of his dress uniform, paused in the doorway and stared back at her.

“Umm… I can,” he gestured back to the dim hall and made to step away.

“No, no,” Darcy rushed, spinning her chair and pulling her feet back down to the floor. “Come in, sorry. You must be Sergeant Barnes.”

He waited at the edge of the hall as Darcy’s toes felt their way across the floor until they found her heels again. His lips quirked at one corner as he watched her wiggle her way back under the loose t-straps.

“What gave me away?” he asked, stepping into the room. His eyes flicked to the door at the far end of the room, it’s pressed glass dark from the inside, obscuring the next room, gold flake font reading DETECTIVE in crooked letters.

“The uniform,” she said, flat as her curls at the end of the day.

His smirk faltered. “Yeah,” he said. “Memorial earlier.”

She should express sympathy, she thought. Thank him for his service. But before she could gather the breath, he carried on.

“Your boss in? For the appointment?” he asked. He pulled his hat off and smoothed back thick dark hair, just a little long over his ears like he hadn’t gotten it cut again after the war.

“He’s out on a case,” Darcy said. “They tend run late. He works hard. I’m here to take your notes and collect everything he’ll need to get started. Including the first week’s wages.”

“Ah,” said Sergeant Barnes, with another glance at the dark door. He patted at the sharp edges of his uniform and Darcy could hear the crinkle of the envelope inside the left breast pocket. “Right. Sure. Was kind of hoping to talk to him about-”

“I’m sure the occasion will come up before the end of the case,” Darcy said. “But I can promise you, you’ll be very satisfied with his work.”

Keep reading

Olicity Fic Challenge 10: Nerf War

Prompt for @olicityficchallenge: picture of a Nerf gun left next to a note that says “Welcome home from work! Two things: 1) this gun with ammo is yours 2) I have one too and you’re under attack as of now.”

I am get behind on these. I have all but one of them written out though, just need to edit, so there will be more where this came from. Shortly. I am hoping to be caught up by tomorrow in time for the final prompt :)

###

They were lying in wait.

That was Felicity’s over dramatic way of saying they were waiting for Oliver to get home. He’d been called away on mayoral business—she’d never get used to Oliver being the mayor—and had left Felicity alone… with William.

For the first time.

To say she’d been terrified when Oliver told her he needed to leave for a few hours, was the understatement of the year.

Felicity wasn’t a kid person. She liked kids, of course, but she’d never been around kids. She hadn’t had any siblings, or friends with kids. Baby Sara was different, because she was only two. She just sat there playing with her toys and loving everybody. But William was almost ten. He had thoughts and opinions, and she was terrified he was going to hate her. Or worse, that she would be uncomfortable around him the entire time.

Being uncomfortable around Oliver’s son was possibly the worst thing she could imagine. What if that meant she was just no good with kids? What if she felt just as uncomfortable when it was her and Oliver’s child?

Oliver was so good with William, like it was instinctual. Maybe it was, or maybe it was just practice from growing up with Thea. All Felicity knew was that something clicked in him around William and he became “good dad”, while Felicity always just felt like she was floundering. Maybe it was because her relationship with her mother had always been so different than most people’s or because her relationship with her father was practically nonexistent.

But no matter how awkward she felt around William, Felicity was never going to stop trying to connect with him. She couldn’t. He was Oliver’s, and she might not have liked the way she learned about William, but she liked the boy himself. He was a sweet kid, and he reminded her so much of Oliver sometimes. It always caught her off guard when he’d make a face or ask a question that just shouted “Oliver!” to her. But they hadn’t spent much time alone, maybe a minute or two here and there. And Felicity wasn’t sure how to handle a relationship with him.

So, when Oliver had left for work and William sat down on the couch, fiddling with his action figure, looking decidedly less happy than when his mom had dropped him off that morning, Felicity knew she had to do something. This was a bonding moment and she wasn’t going to waste it.

“Let’s go,” she’d said, gesturing for him to get his coat.

William jumped up immediately, walking to the door and putting on his tiny parka. “Where are we going?” he’d asked, zipping the jacket up.

“Um…” Felicity hadn’t planned that far ahead, unfortunately, but she had always been quick on her toes. “The toy store!”

William had given her a skeptical, but hopeful look. “For what?”

Felicity had knelt down beside the boy. “We could get a game,” she’d said. “Or something to keep us entertained until your dad comes home. Maybe we could…”

Felicity had trailed off, having remembered something she’d seen on the Internet.

“I know exactly what we can do,” she’d told him excitedly, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder and steering him towards the door as she let him in on her plan.

Now, the two of them were crouched behind the railing of the second story of the loft. Waiting.

“How long ago did he text?” William asked, neatly sorting the orange foam bullets into easy to reach piles beside them.

“Fifteen minutes,” Felicity said, pulling up Oliver’s GPS on her phone to check his location. She smiled when she saw that Oliver was already in the building. “You ready, over there?” she asked, and William nodded. “Good, because he’s here.”

William grinned and tugged the Nerf gun to his chest, finger already getting twitchy on the trigger.

“Not until I give the signal,” she reminded him as they heard the sound of Oliver’s key in the lock.

William nodded, oddly serious for a child about to unload a gun full of foamy bullets into his father.

“Felicity?” Oliver called as he entered the loft. From their hiding spot they could make out his back as he walked into the room. “William? You guys here?”

Felicity could see William cracking. His smile was huge—which tugged at a place inside Felicity that she’d never felt until that very moment—and he began to fidget.

“Not yet,” Felicity whispered as silently as possible. It did not surprise Felicity in the least that Oliver’s son was turning out to be just as impatient as the man himself. Like father, like son, she supposed.

But William got himself under control, just as Oliver turned to the kitchen and the note that they’d left for him there. Along with his very own Nerf gun.

She peaked through the glass of the railing, watching as he read the note. She could practically see him slip into Arrow mode when he realized what was about to happen.

The moment his hand reached for the gun, Felicity gave the signal, nodding her head at William, and together they both leaped to their feet, unleashing a hail of orange foam at Oliver’s back. Oliver spun around the moment he heard movement, but unlike Felicity and William, he only shot one Nerf bullet. It flew up, but bounced off the glass railing before it could hit either of them.

She could see him take in the dart’s path, studying the way the foamy projectile flew through the air and the angle at which he held the toy gun like it was life or death. Then he unloaded two more darts, all the while evading the spray of falling foam from his fiancé and son.

His first dart flew low, but straight, bouncing soundly off of William’s forehead. Felicity watched as the boy rubbed the spot between his eyes with a grumbled, “Ow!”

Something orange struck her glasses before she could even process that Oliver had somehow hit William squarely between the eyes with a foam dart, from at least fifteen feet away. Her surprise that Oliver had been able to do the exact same thing to her caused her to take a step back.

He was an amazing shot, but with foam projectiles? She was more than a little impressed. And surprisingly turned on.

Oliver used their surprise and distraction to bound up the stairs towards them. Without even slowing his pace, he scooped up William before the boy could reload his Nerf gun, his little legs trailing out behind him as Oliver spun him in a circle.

Felicity would never get over the look on Oliver’s face whenever he played with his son. Whether it was action figures or video games, or something as simple as spinning in a circle, Oliver was a great dad and he loved spending time with William. Felicity knew it for a fact, and it only made her love him all the more.

He met her eyes, placing William back on his feet, and leaned down towards her. “Thank you,” he whispered, emotion choking his voice.

Felicity shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Oliver leaned closer, his lips just inches from her’s when Felicity was suddenly being pelted by a barrage of darts. Oliver laughed, pulling her into his chest to protect her from his son’s sneak attack.

“There’s no kissing in war!” William exclaimed. “He’s the enemy, Felicity! You can’t kiss the enemy during a battle.”

Felicity laughed, throwing the kid a wink and backing up from Oliver. “He’s right,” she said, bending down to pick something up from the stash of weapons they’d bought at the toy store.

She stood, wielding a foam sword in front of her fiancé. She’d never handled a sword before, not for fighting purposes anyway, but she tried to mimic the technique she’d seen Oliver and Thea use.

Oliver laughed, blue eyes twinkling as he watched her. He raised an eyebrow when she stepped towards him, twirling the sword in her hand.

He raised his hands defensively and whispered, “Would you take it easy on me if I said you look incredibly hot right now?”

Felicity laughed, then tilted her head, giving him a contemplative look. “You know, I might… but I don’t think my partner is up for that kind of deal.”

Just then William jumped out from behind Oliver with a yell, Nerf sword in hand like he was in some sort of bad martial arts movie. He waved the toy back and forth like he was already in battle.

Oliver spotted a third sword on the ground and bent quickly to pick it up, taking a step away from the two of them. With the sword held out in front of him, he crooked his fingers at his son—going right along with the bad martial arts movie vibe William had going—challenging him to attack.

And William did.

Leaning back against the railing, Felicity watched Oliver duel his son in Nerf swords. As far as duels Oliver has participated in, this was the only one Felicity had ever felt the urge to document. She pulled her phone from her back pocket, pulling up her camera app and hitting record. She’d have to make sure Samantha got a copy of this.

William was trying to take Oliver down, and even with a foam sword, Oliver blocked him. Not every blow, but enough that it was a challenge for William. Then, with a surge forward, William swung the sword, hitting Oliver squarely in the hip and Oliver groaned exaggeratedly, falling to his knees.

“Ugh,” Oliver moaned dramatically, “you got me.”

William threw his hands in the air, sword held high above his head, celebrating his victory. Oliver watched him with a small, happy smile on his face, then reached forward pulling the boy to his chest.

“Dad!” William laughed as Oliver dragged him down to the floor, tickling the boy’s sides. “Felicity, help me!”

Felicity put her phone away, leaping into the fray, tickling Oliver and trying to turn the tables.

With Oliver’s attention on Felicity, William ran to get his Nerf gun, reloading it and pointing it in their direction.

“Dad wins round one,” William announced, as Felicity and Oliver sat up to look at him. “But Felicity and I are going to win round two.”

He tossed a loaded Nerf gun to Felicity and reached out to help her up, even though he was half her size.

“Let’s go Felicity! We gotta hide so Dad doesn’t beat us right away!”

Felicity grinned, getting to her feet. “You ready for round two?” she asked Oliver as he stood beside her.

He leaned in, a smug smile on his face as he kissed the side of her head and whispered, “I’ll always be ready for round two with you, Felicity, but it will have to wait. I have to kick your cute little ass in a Nerf war first.”

Felicity blushed, but she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face as she raced William to the other side of the loft, preparing to win this war and wipe that smug look off of Oliver’s face.

anonymous asked:

Are you taking prompts? Could you maybe write something fluffy and domestic where Mulder and Scully are "nesting" - you know, getting the house ready for the baby before she goes into hospital.

Yes! To the prompt taking :) And thank you for this wonderful one. The thing got away from me, so it’s not really want you wanted, but yeah. Set in late season 8. This is pure fluff. 

“Scully?” Mulder groans without opening his eyes. Her hands glide over his naked chest and then she’s kissing him there before her mouth travels up north, making sure not to miss anything, until she reaches his mouth.

“Is everything all right?” He manages to ask in between kisses.

“Hmm. Can’t sleep.” Scully moves closer and her big stomach bumps against his side.

“And so you thought I shouldn’t sleep either?” Mulder tries to roll away from her to check the time but she’s always been freakishly strong for someone this small, and her hands keep him in place. “Scully, what time is it?”

“4 am.” She tells him, her lips never once leaving his body. They can’t do this, he reminds himself. After her partial abruption she’s been told to take it easy. No running around, no heavy lifting and lots of bed rest. And, the doctor had glared at them intently when he said this, no sex. They had both blushed crimson. Not that they were having sex, or even talking about it. He can’t be sure about her, because they don’t talk about it, or anything important, but he knows he was definitely thinking about it. A lot. For now, though, he is happy to be allowed in her bed, to hold her, touch her any way she lets him. He is content here being on the receiving end of her kisses. They’re not back yet, back at that point before he left for Oregon, but they’re on their way. It’s a long way, full of obstacles and hoops to jump through, but Mulder knows how to jump. He just needs Scully to tell him how high.

“Scully, you know we-” She groans and then she’s gone. He feels cold in all the places she’s just touched, misses her mouth over his, and all he can do is watch her waddle to the bathroom. Mulder is certain that she doesn’t mean to slam the door shut but she does anyway. He sits up in bed and waits.

“I’m sorry.” Scully tells him upon her return and the bed dips when she crawls back in. “I just – I can’t sleep, Mulder. I feel like,” she sighs deeply, “there is so much to do. You know?” He doesn’t really, so he remains quiet, nods anyway.

“But you really should sleep,” he tries and it earns him a glare, “The doctor said-”

“Mulder, I’m a doctor, too.”

“I know, but Scully… once the baby is here-”

“That’s just it, Mulder. We’re not prepared. This whole apartment – we’re not prepared. There is so much to do.”

“We are,” he tells her with a soft kiss, “We are prepared. There’s nothing to worry about.” She huffs and Mulder agrees with a soft chuckle that when it comes to them, and the impending birth, there are a million things to worry about. “Just try to get some sleep, all right? I promise you, it’ll all look better in the morning.”

“Mulder, it is-”

“Morning, yeah. Just please close your eyes, Scully, get some sleep. Try at least?” He puts on his best puppy face, pouts his lips, and she giggles. She gives him one last kiss before she tries to get comfortable next to him and he is asleep before she’s found the perfect position.

The next time Mulder wakes up it is much less pleasant. There is a loud, strange clang somewhere followed by an uttered expletive. He is on his feet quickly, his eyes barely opene and his vision blurry.

“Scully?” His voice, too, is still trying to wake up. He finds her in the kitchen surrounded by several pans and pots. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. What are you doing here in the kitchen?”

“Cleaning.” As if it were the most logical thing ever. Mulder stares at her.

“Cleaning? You’re cleaning at – I have no idea what time it is. Why are you cleaning?”

“It’s almost 6 am,” she tells him leaving the pots and pans behind to waddle into the living room where two full laundry baskets wait sit on the couch, “since I’m not allowed to lift anything heavy, I thought you could do it.” She merely points at the baskets.

“You want me to do laundry at 6 am? Scully, are you all right? Is everything all right with the baby?” Mulder puts his hand on her stomach, strokes it absent-mindedly. The baby, it appears, is sleeping.

“I’m fine, Mulder, really. I just need to do this. The apartment needs to be clean before the baby comes. I won’t have time to clean it once it’s here.”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on him and he can’t suppress a smile.

“Exactly, ‘oh’. We need to do this now, Mulder because-”

“You’re nesting.” He interrupts her.

“Excuse me?” She stands up straight, or as straight as she possibly can, and shoots him another glare.

“You’re nesting. It’s totally normal, Scully. You want to get the place ready for the baby. I get it.” He just can’t stop grinning.

“I… just… will you at least help me with the laundry?” She stutters helplessly. Mulder engulfs her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head.

“No,” she tries to push him away, but he holds her tightly, “you’re going back to bed now. As will I. We’ll sleep at least another hour, or two hopefully. Then we’ll call the guys to help us out here and then, and only then, will I do laundry.”

“But Mulder, I-” This time it’s Mulder who gently pushes at her so he can see her face. She’s staring up at him, out of arguments, yet full of unreasonable ideas.

“I promise you, we’ll get the place ready before the kid is born. I’ll clean every pot, every pan and every sink personally – twice. If you promise to come back to bed now and get some rest. I might even let your order me around. I know you need to do this, Scully, and I’ll gladly help. Just not right now.” He watches her, awaits her reaction. She is warm against him and if he could, he’d carry her to bed. Finally, she nods. Mulder sighs, grins and takes her hand to lead her back into the bedroom.

“I’ll set the alarm, Mulder,” Scully tell him earnestly, “You get three hours, because I love you, but then we’ll get to work.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

The Ball.

Titled: The Ball 

Pairing: (eventual) Gaston x reader 

A/N: Part Two! Only one more part to go…this was such a fun series to write! Here is the link to Part One! 

Word Count: 2,704 

Warnings: angst, prince!Gaston, Gaston/Luke Evans feels, fluff, etc. 

Cast of Characters: Y/N, Stepmother, Celeste, Bianca, Gaston and Lefou and Fairy Godmother. 

Tagging:  @girl-next-door-writes  @captainemwinchester @little-red-83@impalaimagining@sherlocks-timetraveling-assbutt@hobbithorse19@feelmyroarrrr@lefouismylife@redimagines@letowolfie@ciaprincess@speedycatbluebird @haniiix33 @mademoiselle-lanielenawrit@pancake74433 @certainasthesvn@with-a-hint-of-pesto-aiolishiroyuki18@ironicallyimnotamouse@ciaprincess@erreneous@gawston@benedictcumberbatchstolemyheart@pureawesomeness001@ronijdubb@norrihiddleskittycap@oh-snap-its-mildred @milleniumxhan bobateaandchocolatepudding @blackxthexbeast @blueinkblot   xxqueenofisolationxx  @dracsgirl @my-whataguythat-gaston @iamtotalgarbo @undertakers-witchy-mermaid


The sun streamed through your tiny attic window, your only source of light in the room. You breathed in through your nose and nuzzled your head deeper into your pillow as you groaned internally. The bell that was attached to the main clock of the village was set to ring in any moment. The start of a new day. Even that thing was ordering you around. You hated that thing with a firing passion. But then you suddenly remembered something about today. Today was unlike any other ordinary day. Why, tonight was the Prince’s Ball! Oh Joy! 

Keep reading

Father II

read part one here

Read the story on ao3 here


“Pomona honey!” Called Poppy out. “Urgent letter from Hogwarts for you!”

Pomona Pomfrey-Sprout smiled when she saw her wife standing in the door of their little cottage. After nearly forty years of marriage she was still very much in love with her. “Coming! I just have one more mandrake to plant!”

She made quick work of the last little bugger, then hurried off towards the house. It was probably Neville again, asking her for tips on how to handle his particularly nasty first year Ravenclaws, who always tried to corner him with complex questions about subjects more fitted for fifth years. It was a clever technique to disturb lessons and avoid homework.

“Here.” Poppy handed her a cup of tea, the letter and a morning kiss. “If it’s Neville again you should tell him to just floo in next time. I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Will do, will do.” She opened the letter.

Dear Pomona,

I’m sorry to say that Malfoy has fallen ill. It’s nothing serious as far as I know, but he won’t be able to teach for a while. I persuaded Minerva to let Harry take care of him until he’s back on his feet, and I am now taking over the defence classes. I was hoping that you might be willing to replace me in herbology while I do so. It would be greatly appreciated.

Hope to see you soon,

Neville

Pomona smiled. “As much as I love to see you in just a bathrobe.” She pulled her wife into a hug that became a kiss. “I’m afraid we have to get going. Hogwarts needs us.”


“I hope those two will finally find each other now. Pomona used to grow Devil’s snare, a plant known for it’s slow pollination, but even they never took more than a year to get together.” Madam Pomfrey crossed her legs and took a sip of tea from the cup Neville had offered her. She had arrived ten minutes ago, and while Pomona had immediately left for the gardens, Poppy had stayed with Neville to catch up a bit.

“Did you just compare Malfoy and Harry with Devil’s Snare?” Asked Neville.

“Maybe…” Poppy took another sip of tea, using the cup to hide her smile. It was about time Harry found some happiness, and Malfoy wasn’t undeserving of it either after everything he’d done for the school.

“I think I’d best be off to the greenhouses now. You never know what those first years will do when faced with a new teacher, and my darling girl isn’t the youngest anymore.”

“I don’t think we have anything to fear in that department. I suspect even in her sleep she’d still be able to teach seventh year Ravenclaws.”

“I know…” Poppy sighed. “But back in the day I made her fall for me when I helped her with a tough class. I wouldn’t mind reliving that moment.” She smiled at the memory.

Neville laughed. “That’s actually really cute.”

“Yeah, Pomona and I are sometimes quite  sappy for each other.”

“You mean sapphic for each other?”

Poppy gave him a sharp, disapproving look. Neville threw his hands up in defence. “I wasn’t going to leave that perfect opportunity unused okay, you know me.”

Poppy rolled with her eyes and got ready to leave.

“I’ll see you during lunch!” Called Neville after her. He knew she secretly loved his puns, even though she would never admit it out loud.


“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m here, I’ll get you out of this mess. Don’t you go thinking that I won’t. You’re my friend now and I don’t fail my friends.” Harry was stroking Malfoy’s perfect blond hair. He knew the other man wasn’t listening to his ramblings, he’d fallen asleep some time ago, but Harry needed to say it for himself. Needed to believe it was true.

He actually had no idea how he was going to stop Lucius from retrialing except for marching into the ministry and straight up forcing the minister to refuse Draco’s dad his basic wizarding rights. Not that he had anything against that idea, but he knew Draco would never accept it.

He sighed, and pulled out his wand to sent a patronus to Minerva, telling her that he wasn’t able to teach his classes that day. He didn’t want to think about the consequences of the memory he used to conjure it. How he was getting Malfoy out of this mess was his top priority, not the reasons behind his desire to do so.

Harry tried to relax a bit, and tightened his arms around Malfoy. There was a certain calmth coming from his body pressing on top of him. His weight was somewhat reassuring.

While he stared at the ceiling, his thoughts drifted to that one sentence again. What kind of monster do you have to be, in order to make your own father hate you.

The words had shocked him. Apparently Malfoy blamed himself for what his dad was doing, like after all those years of hard work and good deeds he still somehow hadn’t been good enough. Like all of this was caused by him not trying his best instead of his father being a total shitbag.

Harry didn’t understand how Malfoy could still love his dad, how he could still care about his opinion after everything he’d done. But he also felt out off his debt, because he didn’t know what it was like to have a dad. He had no idea how Malfoy felt and for now he could do nothing more than hold him, tell him it wasn’t his fault, hoping that would somehow be enough.

But deep down he knew it wasn’t.


When the afternoon neared its second half Malfoy slowly started to wake up.

“Hey.” Harry greeted him with a warm smile. Malfoy groaned, and turned his head away.

“Please tell me I didn’t cry myself to sleep in your arms.” He whispered.

Harry tightened said arms around him. It was his way of saying that Malfoy shouldn’t get weird ideas like getting up, because Harry wasn’t letting him go. “You kind of did. But that’s okay. We all have our bad days.”

Malfoy let out a huge sigh. “Fuck.” He readjusted himself on top of Harry, a difficult task because Harry’s arms held him in a deadlock. “You know you can’t solve every problem in the world with a good hug right?”

“I know.” Answered Harry. “But I can try.”

Suddenly he got a broad smile on his face. “Hey Malfoy, you do realise you just called me a good hugger, right?”

“Did I say good?” Malfoy lifted his head from Harry’s chest. His eyes were still red from crying, but the despair that had reflected in them earlier was gone. “I meant terrible. You’re nearly murdering me in your arms, your shoulders are too bony, your…. Ugh.” Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy even tighter, like he was trying to push all the air out of his lungs.

“What was it you were saying about my hugging qualities?”

Malfoy opened his mouth to answer, but could barely say a word because Harry cranked up his muscle power even more. “Great…” Malfoy gasped for breath. “Greatest hugger…”

“That’s what I thought.” And Harry loosened his grip.

“Asshole”

“Fuckface.”

Malfoy let his head rest on Harry’s chest. They lay silently in each other’s arms for a while before Malfoy spoke again. “I suppose there’s no chance…”

“No Malfoy, indeed there isn’t. I am not going to not talk about what happened.” Said Harry with a stubborn tone in his voice.

“But…”

“But what? Malfoy we’ve worked together for two years now. I consider you to be my friend, no matter how weird that might sound. And friends don’t abandon each other when something like this happens, even if it’s not the easiest subject to talk about.”

Malfoy sighed, defeated, and rolled off of Harry. “Could we postpone talking about it then? I think it still has to sink in a bit.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Answered Harry, whose stomach grumbled loudly.

The sound made Malfoy’s eyes widen, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position. He looked worried. Even though it had been nearly two years since Harry had beaten his depression, his lack of appetite had never really left. Malfoy hadn’t really been lying when he complained about bony shoulders.

“Potter, have you eaten?” Harry was suddenly very busy studying the ceiling.

“You haven’t, have you?” Malfoy checked his watch. “Both breakfast and lunch?” Harry sat up as well now, but still refused to look at Malfoy.

“Dammit Potter. You were doing so well before.”

“But this was to blame on the circumstances!” Said Harry defensively.

“Circumstances my ass, any normal person would have called a house elf for some food.” Malfoy sounded more concerned that angry. Harry would have prefered him angry, he didn’t want anyone worrying about him. Especially not Malfoy, who shouldn’t have anything on his mind but his dad at the moment.

"You and I both know I’m not…”

“No, Potter. You are indeed not a normal person, you’re the boy who lived. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need food in order to stay that way.”

“You haven’t eaten either though.” Harry realised how weak his excuse was, and he cast his eyes down at the duvet. He knew he should have eaten but it had slipped his mind again, like it so often did.

“I was out cold, you were not. You can’t keep skipping meals like this Potter.” Harry slowly looked up, and Malfoy caught and held his gaze.

Malfoy’s eyes were no longer red from crying, instead they contained a spark. A fire.

Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Malfoy like this before. The life in his grey eyes did something with him. It captured him. It calmed him down. It made him believe Malfoy would never not be there to remind him of the little things.

“You care.” The words were soft, surprised, filled with something Harry had never felt before.

“Of course I do.” Malfoy didn’t cave this time, though he felt more emotions rush through his veins now then he did that morning. Harry only now noticed Malfoy was holding his hand. “Of course I care.”


I really don’t know what to think of this…. I feel like I could have done better but I’ve started over 3 times already so clearly I can’t

but I hope to have come somewhat close to people’s expectations anyway

If you want me to write a part 3 soon then following me will help with that; I post a new piece every time I hit a memorable number of followers, for this piece that’s 350 (OMG that’s a lot!?)

Thank you all so much for your enthuosiasm! Here are the people who wanted to be tagged/were really positive about the previous piece: (Also, shoot me a message if you’re still willing to hear from me when I post again)

@zuzzersten66 @ellabella8185 @mullistus @princess-ikol @dracomightlovespotter @shoshiti @reallyimpossibleartisan @ladyontheave @aelizabethf @blarrrrrrrrrrg @theoriginalshamelessnightmare @miniemcgee @imagine-drarry @alvorota @somethingabouttheway