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Trying To Put It Into Words - annalikestotalk - Check Please! (Webcomic) [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Dex isn’t quite sure what’s happening.

He knows where he is, sure, and he knows who he’s with. He’s standing in the Haus kitchen, covered in flour because he’d decided that today he was going to be adventurous and tackle pie making without Bitty there to supervise, and he knows that Nursey is there with him because up until a moment ago they were having some stupid argument about lord knows what, Dex can’t even remember because frankly these days they fight more as something to do than for any real malicious reason. Everything seems normal.

Except for the part where Nursey’s kissing him. That’s not normal at all.

Love Isn’t a Memory

“My name is Dean Winchester

Sam is my brother

Mary Winchester is my mom, and

Casti–Cas, is my best friend.”

Dean popped his eyebrows high and shuffled unsure.

“Yes, that’s right,” Cas urged.

“You,” Dean said throwing a finger between them. “You’re Cas?”

Cas nodded, “Yes.”

Dean looked back and a stark vulnerability in his face caught Cas between the ribs. The low room light lit him kindly; the crows feet around his eyes were showing. Cas liked those little smile lines, liked them more everyday.

Dean scrubbed his chin. “No, that can’t be right,” he mumbled.


“That can’t be all, I mean.” His jaw jumped as he worked a timid nibble into his bottom lip, “You an’ me.”

“All?” Cas frowned, tried to seek an answer in the filtered sunlight at the motel window before he gave up and shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Are we… only friends?”

Heat hit Cas’ face in a quick bloom. “Why do you ask that?”

Dean was fixed on Cas now, face thin and brow folded. He’d just struck a nerve, and he seemed to know it.

He felt the lapel of Cas’ coat, and briefly brushed a thumb down his tie. He shook his head like he was trying to knock something loose – or knock something away, and he grabbed Cas in those wide green eyes again. “Because I feel like… it’s more than that. I feel like I look at you, and…  I’m in love with you.”

Cas shied back. “Oh,” he puffed, blindsided.

It was incredible how easily an unguarded Dean Winchester managed to rip their lives open. Although, Dean had always been good at turning Castiel inside out.

ashinan  asked:

Listen. Listen. I got an amazing Voltron AU headcanon idea for you but you CAN'T GO RUNNING WITH IT MISS ONIONS I KNOW HOW YOU DO THINGS. From me to you: a Star Wars AU.

Predictably………..this is the longest one.

(I SCREAMED when this showed up in my inbox. Thank you for this gift, my friend. I hope you enjoy.)

(As a thank you to my followers for 100+, I took a handful of AU prompts in celebration! Prompts are quite closed, and I’m proud to present the culminating and final piece of this milestone series. Thank you all for choosing me on your dash!)


00. Lance has wanted to be a Jedi his entire life.

It’s his deepest, most sincere and heartfelt desire.

A Jedi is belonging.

A Jedi has purpose, a path and a place in life. A Jedi looks after others; a Jedi takes care of people. A Jedi is a protector of the galaxy. It’s a longing and a calling Lance has always aspired to.

A Jedi is great, and a Jedi is kind. A Jedi is a keeper of the peace. A Jedi has the Force, wide open and beckoning, bright and true. Lance has loved the Force and the Light for as long as he can remember.

A Jedi looks out for others. A Jedi looks outs for their own.

A Jedi belongs.

Lance is going to be a Jedi.

Little Lance, a handful of years old and toddling on tiptoes in the creche, pudgy face smushed against the transparisteel of the creche window. Stubby fingers leave messy prints, watching all the ships come and go in the distant hustle and bustle of Coruscant night traffic. That’ll be me someday.

Little Lance, older, peeking out from amongst his crechemates as they travel the halls. He watches the robes of the great Jedi Knights swishing about their ankles, Padawans rushing to catch up. That’ll be me someday.

Little Lance, sneaking out to the Temple Gardens late at night to watch the waterfall play, closing his eyes and listening to the Force gurgle over rocks, splash onto stones. The soft breeze of the Force through the grass, the flowers, the trees. The Force is everywhere. A pair of Jedi sit in the grass nearby, quiet, heads bowed in meditation. The Force swirls around them gently, a stream in its own right. Lance hides by his waterfall and observes, content. That’ll be me someday.

Lance, even older. Finally a Padawan himself, following at the heels of his Master as they head down to the hangars for their first mission assignment. Looking over his shoulder at all the other Jedi embarking on ships, returning from missions of their own. A hub of galactic peace, in and out, busy keeping the galaxy safe.

That’ll be me someday.

Lance, at the conclusion of his Trials.

Jedi protect.

Jedi belong.

Lance is going to be a Jedi.

01. Lance and Hunk have been best friends since the days of the creche.

“Are we getting anywhere?” Lance asks, leaning on the engine. The sleeve of his robe swings down and nearly smacks Hunk in the face.

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@chronatos requested:

How about Genji helping Zenyatta recover from a serious hacking attempt?

“Genji, please, calm down,” Zenyatta asked, but his voice was still modulating in a strange way, reminding Genji of what had happened yesterday. He cursed himself for not knowing more about omnics and technology, that he might be able to help Zenyatta more.

There had been an attack on the temple, not the first, but their assailants didn’t come manned with guns, but computers. They’d attempted to hack the monks. They were lucky that their attackers didn’t know about Genji, they’d sat there laughing as he approached them, expecting to have hacked his programme before he reached them, Genji had just kept walking towards them, watching as the glee melted off of their faced and morphed into confusion, the beginnings of fear as their computer did nothing.

Genji had been so angry, an anger he had not felt in a very long time, the kind that made his dragon restless. Zenyatta and too many of the other monks were lying incapacitated and in pain in the temple and Genji knew that the only way he could help them was by silencing the attack. So he had silenced it. He remembered the panic on the faces of the hackers when Genji did the unthinkable and removed his face plate, he wanted them to see, their realisation that he was man not machine, how they attempted to flee as he drew his dragon blade.


“Genji,” Zenyatta’s voice, crackling but soft, broke through Genji’s thoughts, drawing his attention back to his master, sat recuperating in his room, waiting for his systems to recover.

Genji had contacted an expert to come and help them, someone who was friendly to their cause, to check that the monks would be okay, but they were in the mountains of Nepal and she wouldn’t be here until tomorrow at the earliest.

“You are worrying me,” Zenyatta called out to him, the lights on his forehead were still wavering uneasily from the effects of the hack, Genji felt so helpless, so useless. Zenyatta did not ask Genji to tell him what was wrong, he likely already knew, he knew Genji so well after all.

“They almost – you nearly – ” Genji balled his fists, could feel the tears well from fear and helplessness under his faceplate.

“Genji, will you come here?” Zenyatta asked, extended one long arm, hand reaching out to Genji.

Genji took it without hesitation, coming to rest on the floor beside Zenyatta, feeling his breath catch as Zenyatta brought his hand up to caress his faceplate.

“May I remove this? I wish to see you, my heart.” Genji’s nodded shakily, allowing Zenyatta to reach around and unclasp the plate, gently removing it, brushing a metallic thumb under Genji’s eye and wiping away his tears. “Do not cry, I am alright.” Zenyatta reassured, Genji held his master’s hand against his face, it was grounding.

“I’m sorry master,”

“Whatever for?”

“I just feel so useless, I cannot make it better, I couldn’t stop them before – ”

“Hush, Genji,” Zenyatta cut him off, soothing him, “You did stop them, before any lasting damage could be done to any of us, and we all will recover, fully, thanks to you, Genji, my sweet sparrow. You help me simply by being here with me, you must know this.”

Zenyatta leant forward, nudging the seam of his faceplate and jaw against Genji’s lips and Genji kissed him back a little desperately.

“You are exhausted, and my systems also need rest. Stay with me?” Zenyatta asked, even though they both knew that nothing could pry Genji from his side now.

“For as long as you want me,”

“Forever, then.” Zenyatta answered, and though his face did not change with his moods, Genji knew he was smiling.

Drabble requests open

if we go down, then we go down together 

after aaron is released from custody, robert runs him a bath, and they try their hand at some honest conversation.

post the january 20th episode.

“I’ve run you a bath.” Robert said, leaning against the doorframe of their bedroom. They’d managed to escape Chas and her near constant badgering of Aaron after a couple of hours, making the excuse of needing an early night.

It was hardly a lie, Aaron looked absolutely horrendous. Robert didn’t need to ask to know that Aaron had hardly slept a wink the previous night, and the angry red skin of his knuckles, swelling that should have gone down by now, twenty four hours after his punch up with Kasim, worrying him.


“I’ve run you a bath.” Robert repeated, jerking his head toward the bathroom.


“Because you look terrible and you like baths.” Robert said, as if it were glaringly obvious. “Go on, it’ll go cold the longer you faff about.”

Aaron nodded, standing up slowly. Even the way he was moving had Robert worried, he was hunched over, moving slowly across their bedroom. Robert moved out of the doorway, letting Aaron pass.

Things weren’t right. They didn’t feel right, but it would take time - it would take time for them to move past their arguments of the previous day, and even longer to find a way to deal with Aaron’s insecurities.

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alright here’s what i want, malec single by 30 au but no marriage pact, no one sided pining and no angst related to one of them having reservations.

no i want the two of them making a pact when they are in high school to try dating if they reach 30 and haven’t found anyone else. because the simple fact is that there has always been something there. something palpable that they both couldn’t ignore. there was always this magnetism and it was always mutual, they just never acted on it.

this magnetism was the very reason they got along so well, the reason they made each other laugh so hard and could open up so easily. two people who were both so tucked away in themselves for totally different reasons but who spent nights sitting out on the porch, fireflies hanging in alec’s yard, shoulders touching, spilling their deepest secrets to each other. there were all of these knowing glances, all this easy laughter, this sassy banter and turbulent flirtation that left them spinning in circles.

then magnus graduated, leaving alec with a year left of high school. and it wasn’t bad, but at the same time it was terrible, an aching kind of pain, hugging each other for the last time in front of magnus’s beat up car right before magnus went off to college because they couldn’t act on it now could they? and the pact wasn’t exactly forgotten but life was tugging them in different directions.

but that didn’t mean they lost touch. they didn’t. they dated other people but they never lost touch. they orbited in each others lives. sometimes not speaking for weeks or months but then falling back in to each other like no time had passed at all, because it was just that easy. because no amount of distance could break this thing. and it was hard for any kind of distance to break anything between them because their families were all interconnected.

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Clan Leader Simon, Fledgling Raphael

Okay, okay, but LISTEN. Clan Leader Simon and fledgling Raphael, like basically their roles switch but their personalities are mostly the same. Just imagine:

  • Simon trying not to crush on the new fledgling he’s training because god dammit undead libido needs to stop and he’s just barely keeping his fangs in
  • Simon being a goofy ball of sunshine but as soon as shit gets serious he’s Serious Vamp #1™ and handles it like he was born to be a diplomat
  • And he’s friends with everyone so he’s got a shit ton of connections and now that Camille’s locked in the basement, vamps and werewolves are getting along so much better
  • Raphael being Clary’s friend and she can tell he’s got a soft spot for Simon, and he’s basically the really salty best friend and she adores him for it and she cries and tells him he’s still the “same Raphael that shit talks random people on the street and always has a comeback and loves looking at expensive suits you can’t afford and always protecting everyone you care about” when he crawls out of his grave
  • Climon being The BrOTP™ with Clary being all, “you’d better look after my saltmate or I’ll have to stake you” and Simon taking it all in stride and being all cool (until he trips over himself) and reassuring her that Raphael is fine and offers to let her have visiting hours as long as she leaves her weapons at the door
  • Simon going with Raphael to tell his family after the war because he partially blames himself for letting Camille get to him and feels he deserves to get yelled at
  • But instead Raph’s mom, while not happy about it, she can tell Simon cares and asks for Simon to look after her mijo, Simon does not cry, he doesn’t (yeah he does, but not until they’ve left)
  • Simon teaching Raphael to have faith again, teaching him to hold his cross and rosary and to walk on holy ground and say G-d and Jesus Christ and pray (and I’m not crying, you’re crying)
  • And when the malec wedding crash happens, he goes and recounts it to Simon in calm detail and comments, “It was sort of like The Graduate” and Simon flips his shit because he loves The Graduate and he’s happy that his friend Magnus finally got his guy and Simon wonders if he’ll get his
  • Simon insists that Raphael teach him about pop culture and they spend hours watching movies together (and maybe making out during them, which makes Simon insist that they rewatch them because “we didn’t actually watch it, Raph! My eyes were on you!” “As they should be.”)
  • And when the betrayal happens, because Raphael has to choose between the Clan and what’s left of his mundane life, he still chooses Clary and Jocelyn because he loves them and he’s as loyal as they come and he’s only known the clan for a little while, even if they gave him a home and a new family and he’s falling for Simon (he’s swears to himself that he won’t let Camille harm him if it costs Raphael his life, well his unlife)
  • And Raphael just watches as the light dies in Simon’s eyes and it hurts more than the “I’m sorry we weren’t enough for you” and even the “I’m disappointed”
  • “I thought you were my sunshine, and I suppose this is when I turn to dust, because I just wasn’t enough. We’d barely begun before the end, and maybe you were heavensent, but so were fallen angels in descent, and now I just feel cursed and blessed.” Simon writes a bunch of tragic love songs and cries and pretends to be okay when doing business because he’s clan leader and he can’t lose it over an almost love (though he thinks maybe on his end it was all love and that’s what hurts the most, that it must’ve only been on his end).
  • But Raphael is feeling the pain too and distracts himself by hunting down Camille so he can kill her and Clary tries to stop him but realizes she can’t and instead insists on going with him since she couldn’t get any leads on Jace and they take Camille down together, but Raphael gets badly injured and Camille says a lot of emotionally scarring and nasty things, and he needs more blood to recover than the ridiculously small amount that he’s been drinking lately
  • So Clary calls Simon and tells him they’ve killed Camille even though Raphael tells her not to and Simon rushes over with blood bags and even though he hasn’t quite forgiven Raphael, he doesn’t want him to die and just says fondly, “For a such a smart guy, you think you wouldn’t almost die so much. How long am I gonna have to come to your rescue?”
  • And Raph is pretty out of it by now so he’s not even sure if he’s hallucinating Simon or not, so he replies, “For the rest of my life, I hope.”

“Quick, guys, how do I look?” Oikawa pops into Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s dorm room, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “I finally got Iwa-chan to agree to go on a date.”

Hanamaki takes one look at the gaudy shirt and has to turn his face away. The shirt has ruffles and even if Oikawa is unfairly attractive no one would be able to pull off that abomination. “You look great,” Hanamaki’s sentence tapers off into an exaggerated gag and he slaps a hand over his mouth to contain the metaphorical vomit. “Sorry. Acid reflux disease.”

Makki.” Oikawa whines.

“No, seriously. I love it. Brings out your eyes.” Makki gags again. “God, I’m sorry, I ate too much spicy food today.”

Oikawa desperately turns to Matsukawa instead who is staring at him with a blank expression. “Mattsun?”

“You look like a fucking croissant.” Matsukawa says without changing expression. Oikawa cries.

“Hey, Oikawa, c’mon.” Hanamaki sighs, “You look good. I love croissants. I eat them with my coffee every morning, they’re really the best pastry-”

“Fuck both of you.” Oikawa continues to sob.

“Listen,” Matsukawa pats his friends back, “It won’t matter what shirt you’re wearing because in the end, it’ll end up on the floor along with your too-tight pants and pointy elf shoes. You look great.”

Hanamaki pushes the still sobbing Oikawa out of their room. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” He says gently as he shuts the door.

“Poor Iwaizumi.” Matsukawa shakes his head forlornly.

“He doesn’t deserve this.” Hanamaki agrees.
Which Team Should Spotlight Next in the Being Human AU?

After Shiratorizawa and Fukurodani, which Haikyuu!! team should feature their own fic in the Being Human AU?

1. Karasuno
2. Seijou
3. Datekou

If you don’t have a twitter, replies here will count as well!

Have some shitty Hogwarts au with Piper pining

Piper blows out a puff of air through the corner of her mouth, sending a strand of disheveled hair shooting up only to have it waft back down into the same place. She looks past it, across the Great Hall and over the tables to where he sits, dutifully pointing out something on a first year’s parchment. His arm rests on the table, sleeves shoved back just far enough to tease and taunt her but not enough to calm the ache inside her. Even from this far away she can see the outline of muscles under skin. The glorious culmination of years of training and hard work, all aimed at the goal of achieving personal perfection. Piper wonders to herself if they could be put to work on another, more personal goal. For that matter, she can’t help but be curious about what other areas have become finely developed over the years.

Thoughts of translating broom riding skills into other activities are shattered when something thumps onto the bench next to her. She glances sideways to find a tangle of black hair even more disheveled than her own and vivid green eyes fixed on the figure she was just admiring, though the look Percy gives the other boy is more cool indignation than hot intent.

“You seem like you’re taking your studying seriously,” Percy says flatly. “Or do you have better things to be doing?” Piper doesn’t miss the pointedness of his words.

“I could ask you the same,” Piper nods towards the Ravenclaw table, a familiar mess of blonde curls falling over an open book. “From what I hear there’s a new ghost in the library and for some reason it moans a name that sounds an awful lot like-”

“I get it.” Percy shifts in his seat, eyes flicking to the Ravenclaw across the room while his cheeks turn pink.

Piper smiles at her easily won victory, Percy’s not bad at this game but that doesn’t mean he’s at Piper’s level.

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pairing: lance/keith 
theme/prompt: texts + calls

[19:34]: ‘yeh id h at’ 

Keith Kogane can’t fucking text; he can’t text if his life and the fate of the known and unknown universes depended on it—and it confused Lance to unholy extents. He looked down at the most recent message, trying to decipher what it was Keith meant by—Lance squinted—whatever that was. He himself wasn’t exactly a paragon of grammatical correctness, but at least when Lance texted people he was intelligible, even with his exaggerated use of numbers and acronyms.

Keith’s texting was like butt dialing, only worse, because this required an actual response.

[19:39]: ‘uth re??’

[19:39]: ‘dude wat r u saying’

[19:42]: ‘isaed i didt’

Lance groaned, it was no wonder Keith always wanted to call instead. At first, Lance thought it was incredibly out of character—“Want me to serenade you, darling?”—and the teasing was fun while it lasted. That was before Lance finally began to understand why he needed Keith to dial him up. Texting, it seemed, was not the strong suit of this relationship.

[19:43]: ‘turn ur autocorrect on keith’

[19:43]: ‘nio’

[19:44]: ‘now ur not even trying smh. k wait im callin’

“Okay, Keith, what the actual fuck?” Lance whined into the receiver as soon as he heard the line open. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, slowly losing faith in his boyfriend and technology. He heard Keith heave in an irritated breath.

“I told you,” he grumbled, “I don’t text, Lance.”

“Dude, turn your autocorrect on, for god’s sake.” Lance rolled his eyes, examining his nails.

“No,” was the immediate response, “it keeps fucking me over.”

“You’re fucking yourself over,” Lance groaned, “You know, it wouldn’t do that if you at least tried typing the word right.”

“I do! I just, I don’t know, type fast, or something.”

Lance paused, an unseen deadpan on his face. “Right. We’re going with that argument, are we?”

Goddess, fuck you,” he could almost hear the pout in Keith’s voice, “I like this better anyway.

Lance smirked. “Like hearing my voice?”

“I don’t know,” Keith breathed quietly, hesitant, “maybe?”

It took him by surprise; he teased Keith often, but never really got an affectionate response in return. Lance felt his heart swell a little. Ah, fuck - what am I going to do with you, sweetheart?

“Alright,” he whispered back, his smile gentle, “we’ll do this, then.”

a/n: i’ve been having trouble writing anything lately so i asked slightestwind​ for a prompt and she said “werewolf!kurt going down on bp!blaine” so i tried it as a writing exercise. i just tried to free-write and not continuously look back at what i was writing, so here it is. unbeta’d and almost 1500 words. 
warnings: boypussy, werewolf!kurt, knotting, werewolf!kurt going down on blaine and fucking him in wolf form

Blaine loves it when Kurt gets back from his runs. He’s had the house prepared for hours – towels by the front door to wipe Kurt’s muddy paws, a snack sitting ready in the kitchen because Kurt is always starving once he shifts back, and the bathroom all set to start a bath for the two of them so Kurt can relax his sore muscles.

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So apparently this is a thing I’m doing now.  More of the Overwatch thing where bad guys tried to brainwash Soldier: 76 into a human weapon except they did a bad job, so Reaper decides to take matters into his own hands.

Prequel is here.

Where am I going with this?  Why is Reaper trying to be helpful?  Is Jack really in any way recoverable?  Those are all good questions!  I’ll get back to you if I figure them out.

When Gabriel was 12, he got a kitten.

Technically he found a kitten. It was crying under a dumpster, sick from something he never did figure out.  It was about two months old, not tiny anymore, but the poor little thing had looked and sounded so pitiful that he couldn’t bear to leave it there.

At 12, he was old enough to understand that alley cats weren’t tame, but too young to have patience for it.  He’d chased the thing around, trying to pet her and hold her to show her he was friendly.  Unsurprisingly, it didn’t go well.  The little girl did fall in love with his older sister, though.  She always had a way with small scared things.  Took the cat with her when she moved away for college.

That saved her life.  She wasn’t in LA when the omnics tore up the city.  Last he checked up on her, she was out near Whitefish, doing field biology in Glacier.  The cat’s been gone for years; kidney failure when she was 11.  She never did warm up to him.

Meanwhile, Gabriel hasn’t gotten any better with small scared things.

On the bright side, Jack is not in any sense small.

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An Early Riser

Jason wipes the sleep from his eyes, clenching the muscles in his legs and rolling his shoulders forward in a stretch. He’d given himself the luxury of sleeping in until a whopping eight thirty and enjoyed waking up to the bright light pouring into his room. Normally he’s up with the sun, slipping in a morning workout before heading off to his office at the historical preservation department. Saturdays are his rest days though, which means a bit more sleep and a lazy start to the day.

He makes for the door, the hems of his pajama bottoms dragging over the carpet. The knob turns easily in his hand, a small squeak coming from the hinges. The apartment should be vacant, Annabeth should either be out on a run or curled against her boyfriend who sleeps like the dead. Instead, there’s a figure in the kitchen across the room from him. Jason’s eyes trail up the long dark legs, muscles shifting under taught skin as they lift their owner a little higher onto small plump toes. His eyes drift upward, gliding over ankles, calves, thighs, and come to a stop at the soft purple running shorts that cling to the cutest ass he’s seen, Piper’s ass. He should feel shame that he knows exactly who’s ass that is, embarrassment that he’s staring at it so attentively. That’s not what he feels though. No, instead Jason feels a tightening in his pajama bottoms as the erection that he’d woken up with comes to full attention. That’s when the shame starts creeping in.

He’s out in the open, his thin cotton pants doing nothing to hide how awake all of him has become. Jason hurries forward, eyes still occasionally drifting over to Piper, taking in the dimples of her lower back as her crop top lifts higher. When he’s a few feet away he clears his throat, letting her know he’s there but not giving her enough time to turn and see the bulge in his pants.

Piper jumps a little, the muscles in her shoulders tensing for a second as she spins. The tension melts away and a small smile plays at her lips.

“Hey,” she says, turning back to the cupboard she was rummaging through.

“Morning,” Jason mumbles to the counter.

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Control Your Face


Summary: Thorin cannot stand how cute Bilbo is, so he doesn’t know how to look at him. Cue Thorin glaring, leering, and doing all he can not to smile at the hobbit like an idiot. The company is obviously so done with his shit.

A/N: Thorin is an idiot pass it on.

Words: 3 467

Not much impressed Thorin. Not a lot of things even made him feel a certain way unless it was annoyance. Dís had once said that he was as emotionally reachable as a highly positioned elf, and everyone knew that those felt nothing but pride and arrogance.

He’d refused to speak to her for a week after that.

Truth be told, Thorin had learnt to put up a barrier between himself and everything else once Erebor had fallen. He couldn’t afford to show any of his feelings. One ounce of weakness, of sorrow, and his people would be discouraged. It was his job to remain calm and collected, and most importantly grave as they faced the toughest years to follow.

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The kiss is gentler than he’d expected. Simon had believed anything Raphael did was with the force and passion of a hurricane and a kind of precision unmatched by anyone Simon had ever met. Though his nails were like claws, his hands held him gently, caressing his face rather than gripping harshly like Simon had imagined. The clan leader’s lips pressed against his, soft and exploratory, almost no tongue or teeth or fangs to speak of. Something about the overwhelming softness was making Simon weak in the knees and he nearly fell, but a gentle hand moved to his waist and held him up.

Unexpectedly, something wet touched his nose and slid down his cheek. Simon opened his eyes to find that a bloody tear had escaped from Raphael’s eyes. Simon couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. Lips still connected, Raphael opened his eyes as well, probably having felt Simon staring. Something sad and beautiful shone in his eyes and Simon suddenly wanted to make everything better, to shield Raphael from whatever was hurting him. They parted, but only barely. Just far enough to speak.

“What’s wrong?” Simon gave in to the urge to run his hands through Raphael’s hair.

Raphael pursed his lips and seemed to be torn between looking at Simon or the floor. “I’ll never be her.”

Simon brought a hand up to Raphael’s face, hoping he was as gentle as the man in front of him. “I don’t want you to be.”

Fic: Make This Place Your Home (Klaine; NC-17)

Title: Make This Place Your Home
Authors: @luckiedee & @controlofwhatido
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 23k 
Summary: Written for the @blaineandersonbigbang and loosely based on the TV show, The Property Brothers. The Anderson brothers host a local TV show that helps clients buy fixer-uppers and turn them into dream homes. Blaine can’t help but take a special interest in working with their next client, Kurt Hummel. Unfortunately for Blaine, it seems like Kurt is pretty obviously into Cooper. 
Warnings: Brief mentions of past Kurt/Elliott & unrequited Kurt/Cooper, teeny-tiny mention of blood (finger injury), oral, rimming, barebacking, and blink-and-you’ll-miss-it comeplay. Also, fluff. Lots of fluff.
Author’s Notes:You do not need to have seen Property Brothers to read this fic. Title is from “Home” by Phillip Phillips. We had so much fun writing together, hope everyone enjoys!

Gorgeous art by @magicalplaylist here!

Ao3 link
Do You Remember | Archive of Our Own
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter 6: The whole shebang

Peggy steps back as the man —who’s wearing a damn cape, again— walks decidedly towards her cell door. He waves his hand in front of him and it creates a glowing spiderweb-like pattern on the door in which he walks through. The pattern is so similar to what Peggy has been experiencing she freezes and stares at this Dr Strange.

Steve on the other side of the corridor is frantic and yelling up to the ceiling, calling out Tony in hopes he will show up in there and stop the man who’s now in Peggy’s cell, only steps away from her.

“No need to bother Mr Rogers. All cameras and microphones are useless. They won’t know I’m here, I created a time loop.”

He walks closer to her and she steps back again holding up both her hands in a fighting stance, palms directed at Strange. She feels absolutely ridiculous but she might as well try it.

Strange chuckles.

“I see you’re eager to do it again. That’ll be useful.”

“Useful for what?”

“To same the world Miss Carter. You’ll have a key role in that.”