deep dark blue eyes

Curious Man - (Sherlock x reader)

Imagine: Meeting Sherlock at a store while he waits for Watson to buy a gift for Mary.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 579

Warnings: None.

A/N: I wanted to write this for the longest time and now I finally did it. It’s just a small drabble because I’m still not in shape to write a proper Sherlock fanfiction. Yet, I hope you like it.

Originally posted by dracomafloy

“Beautiful choice, very fashionable if I may say so.” A male voice interrupted you.

You were doing your early Christmas shopping, a tradition you had started the first year you moved out of your parent’s house. Basically, you would buy all kinds of gifts for yourself before the prices got up.

“Thank you, sir.” You replied with a smile as you looked to the man that had spoken.

He was tall and slim, dark locks framing his pale face and deep blue eyes analysing you.

“I’m sure your fiancé will like it.” He continued. You furrowed your eyebrows.

It was common for people to inquire that you had a boyfriend, but this man was being too specific.

“I’m afraid I don’t have a fiancé.” You giggled. The man let out a breathy sigh.

“Then why are you wearing an engagement ring?” He asked. You looked down to your hand, which in fact had an engagement ring. “Don’t be ashamed of him. It is in fact an old engagement ring, probably his mother’s ring. I can see that it looks quite unused in spite of the age of it, so I’m guessing you got recently engaged.”

You smiled in amusement. The man seemed to be a pretty smart guy, yet he was wrong.

“I’ve told you: I’m not engaged.” The blue-eyed man furrowed, not willing to believe your words.

“Come again?” He asked.

“I said: you’re wrong.” You replied. The man looked too dumbfounded not to be funny, and hell, it took you an eye and half of the other not to laugh at his face.

“How can I be wrong? It is an engagement ring, and it is on your hand in the right finger. It’s old, and yet it looks clean because you haven’t worn it much.” You nodded.

“It is in fact an engagement ring, and I am in fact wearing it correctly. It is old, true, but it looks clean because I only wear it on occasions.” The man was truly messed up.

“So you only wear it on occasions because…” Before he could make a suggestion of you being a cheater to your fiancé or a single lady wearing a fake ring to keep men away, you interrupted.

“It was my mother’s engagement ring,” you spoke, “She gave it to me a few years ago. I’m not engaged and I only wear it every now and then because I don’t want people to think I’m already taken.”

“There’s always something…” The man whispered to himself.

“Sorry?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Nothing, never mind.” He shook the thought away with a hand gesture. “So, mind telling me why you don’t want people to think you’re taken?”

“You are a very curious man, aren’t you?” You laughed, not answering to his question.

“I am, in fact.” He responded, puffing his chest out and coking his eyebrow proudly.

“May I ask why you are so concerned about my relationship status?” You asked, smirking.

“I happen to find you very pleasing to the eye and, now, I also find you very interesting.” He answered, taking good care of his words; he sounded like he was afraid to say something wrong, yet somehow he also sounded confident.

“My name’s…”

“(Y/N).” He finished. You gasped what kind of man was he?


“You’re wearing a bracelet with your name on it.” He simply replied.

“What a strange man you are, Mr…” He smirked at your words.

“Holmes,” He spoke, “Sherlock Holmes.”

Don’t call me baby face!

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Words: 5.402

Warnings: smut (oral sex (male receiving), explicit language), swearing, angst, fluff, wrap it before you tap it!

A/N: This based on a cute request of an anon! I hope the anon likes it and of couse all of you!

Request: Hey love!!! Absolutely love your writing!!! I have a request if that’s ok! Can you write something where there’s a new recruit and she feels inadequate because everyone except Bucky calls her ‘baby face’ and they tease her (jokingly) about how short and adorable she is and Bucky falls into peer pressure and starts calling her that too (which hurts her cuz she likes him) so one day for a party, she dresses up really sexy and Bucky gets all hot n bothered and they end up forking?? 😆

You were short. Alright, no big deal but there was one problem. You were an Avenger. And not only that, you were the new recruit, too. All that together results in one annoying thing, everyone called you ‘cute’, ‘shorty’, adorable’, ‘sweet’ and the most worst thing: ‘baby face’. You hate it! You really hate all the nicknames. You were always this little, cute girl, your whole life, but you always wanted to be the sexy girl, too. The one girl every man looks at when she enters the room.

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I will make them pay for this

Originally posted by dailyalexhogh

Pairing: IvarxReader
Rating: Explicit
Words: 3735
Warning: Mention of rape and death, a little bit of blood, cursing, a fight

Notes: Hello everyone! Here’s my second one-shot which prevented me from studying for my upcoming exam! But I’m not complaining! English is not my native language, I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes. I hope you’ll enjoy it!

You could hear the laughs and music coming from the feast, which took place in the great hall, not too far from the hut you shared with your husband Ivar. It was a celebration night, like every night was since the sons of Ragnar came back a week ago, boats full of gold, silver and slaves. You wished you could have gone with them; it’s been a long time since you fought and you missed it. But, you were a mother of two beautiful babies now, your son Sigtrygg was 5 years old and your daughter Freydis was 3. They became the most important thing in your life; you had to stay alive to raise and protect them. 

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omgbarbiegurl  asked:

Betty or Juggie locking their keys in the car and having to call their spouse to bring the spare key. Can be irritated or funny.

This is going to be fluffy. Pregnant Betty in a future fic. Adulthood has been getting in the way of me writing lately, but I love getting prompts and I WILL get to all of them so keep ‘em coming.

Being pregnant was driving Betty crazy. She hadn’t slept a full night in months, between having to go to the bathroom every ten minutes and being unable to get into a comfortable sleeping position with her belly as protruding as it was, she felt as though she was slowly losing her mind. She knew that the amount of sleep that she would get was only going to be less when the baby finally came, so she was annoyed that she couldn’t get sleep beforehand.

She got out of the car and slammed the door, annoyed at her lack of sleep, clicking the lock as she exited, before tossing her purse onto her shoulder and waddling with determination towards her last day at the Register before her maternity leave. She was due in three days and she could not WAIT to stop being pregnant and finally meet their little girl. 

She dreamed that their daughter would have her husband’s deep blue eyes and wavy dark hair. Jughead had told her that he hoped their daughter had what he referred to as her “halo of blonde locks that shine brightness into even the darkest of souls.”  

She smiled to herself as she pushed open the door of the Register. Her mom looked up from her desk and gave her a small smile.

“You just have to edit the one article I emailed to you, then you can go home. Jug Head told me how tired you’ve been. You need to rest so my granddaughter can be happy and healthy.”

Betty smiled at her mom’s uncharacteristic kindness before settling into her seat and placing her purse down next to her, flipping open her laptop to finish the article. 

After about an hour of editing and reediting, Betty finally pushed out her chair, grabbed her purse and headed for the door, saying a quick goodbye to her coworkers and mother, excited to get home and catch a bit more sleep. 

As she pushed open the glass door of the Register, the summer heat washed over her in a suffocating wave of discomfort. She rushed to the car as fast as she could, tightening her honey blonde ponytail to keep her hair from sticking to her face. 

When she reached the car, she began to dig around in her purse. The keys, where the fuck are the keys!?

Betty looked at the car, a feeling of exasperation sticking to her the same way that her clothes were beginning to. Then she saw them.

“SHIT!” the keys were sitting on the passenger’s seat, glinting in a way that she felt was almost taunting. Betty felt tears burning in the back of her eyes. She felt pathetic, tears streaming down her face in the middle of main street, after she locked her own keys in the car. She sank down onto the sidewalk, leaning back against the car and letting the tears stream down her face. 

After letting herself cry for a few minutes, she pulled her phone out of her purse and quickly dialed a familiar number. She put the phone to her ear, listening to it ring as she grimaced at the hot screen beginning to stick to her cheek. 

“Hey Juliet, what’s up?” the deep voice on the other end asked sweetly.She choked back another sob.

“I-I-I l-locked m-myself out o-of the c-c-car.” she wailed.

“I’ll be right there, love. It’s ok. Drink the water bottle I put in your purse this morning and I’ll be there in five.” 


“I love you, Bets”

I l-l-love you t-too”

A few minutes later, a beat up pick up truck pulled up behind Betty’s car, engine cutting out and the door opening to reveal her husband, clad in a black tshirt and black jeans. Jughead rushed over to her, crouching to kissing her forehead.

“You’re ok?”

“Yeah, I’m just stupid.” Betty said softly, in a near whisper. 

Jughead placed the side of his index finger under her chin, lifting it so her green eyes could meet his blue ones.

“You’re not stupid, Bets. C’mon, I’ll get the keys out, we can go for lunch, then you can go home and have a nap. Sound good?” 

Betty nodded as Jughead stood up, offering his wife his hand to help her off the ground. She took it and with a great deal of heaving and panting on her part, she finally stood. As she stood she felt a gush between her thighs.

“Juggie.” she whispered


“I think my water just broke.”

Submission: Bottom Erwin Week Day Three

It was almost like clockwork. Every morning Levi would slink in like a lynx, silently creeping towards Erwin’s bed, waiting for him to wake. He would take Erwin’s one remaining hand sometimes and rub one of his long, nimble fingers along Erwin’s knuckle, traveling over every scar. He kept silent at all times, and his patience never wore thin as he waited.

Ever since Erwin lost his arm, Levi had been almost nurturing in the way he handled him. He held Erwin lovingly, washed his clothes and made his food. He never complained, but Erwin despised the burden he had become. He had ordered Levi multiple times to stop, that he could take care of himself. Levi would wait it out, soak in every word, and refuse.

At first, Erwin couldn’t believe his disobedience, even resented it. Levi always acquiesced to every order Erwin gave him, both in the field and in bed. No matter how harsh or how rough, Levi would accept it willingly. Erwin was a commander, after all; giving orders was his role, and Levi his most trusted subordinate. Levi was the first to accept his orders at every turn, but also the first to subvert them like this.

As Erwin grew stronger and stronger and the pain of his missing arm no longer haunted him, his surprise lessened. He should have seen it coming, in fact. Levi held no truck with words, but with action. It was action that helped him survive in the Underground, action that made him such a brilliant soldier, and action that made him stand out from all the rest. It was natural that his actions also showed his love.

Erwin woke easily this morning. Nightmares had been plaguing him, twisted visions forcing him to relieve the agony as the titan bit threw sinew and bone, tearing his arm from his body. On his worst nights it was a horde of them, ripping him apart in front of Levi, tearing him the way a dog tore meat. Ever since Levi began visiting him earlier and leaving later they had begun to pass.

“Hello Levi,” Erwin said, taking his hand from Levi’s to prop himself up. Levi jumped from his chair to fix the pillows behind Erwin, wiping them down quickly and propping them behind him. Erwin waved him away, grabbing them from him and propping them up himself. Levi watched this intently, as expressionless as usual.

“Hange reckons you’ll be walking about soon,” he said simply, returning to his chair.

“Yes, I need to get out of here soon. I can’t work like this.”

Levi frowned. “You just got your arm bitten off and you’re thinking about work?”

“There are things to be done, Levi. It’s best if I start as soon as humanly possible. The longer we wait the longer the titans will be a threat.”

Levi looked to his lap, his face unmoved. Erwin could never read him like this, could never decipher him. Everything about him seemed to be a puzzle. How a man could be so small yet so strong, so cold yet so loving. Erwin often wondered to himself if he had ever hurt Levi, if a word had cut a chink in that armour. If he had, Levi would never tell.

“You need a shave,” he said. He brushed a finger over Erwin’s blonde stubble and quickly recoiled in disgust. Levi despised hair of all kinds, and shaved constantly. Erwin had spent many hours studying the smaller man’s body during the few nights they could steal together, and even he had been surprised. Not just at the hair, but in the wiry strength of his muscles Erwin saw in his own.

“I can do it myself, Levi.” Erwin rose too quickly, and could feel his legs falter slightly beneath his weight. Levi stood under him immediately, and gently eased him into the chair. Grabbing a razor from the bedside table, Erwin waited for Levi to fill a bowl and place it next to him, holding a looking glass at Erwin’s face. His face was thin and gaunt, his deep blue eyes bloodshot and dragged down by dark circles. Grey streaks lined his blonde hair, and his skin was almost snow white. Hesitating, he dipped the razor in the bowl and brought it to his face, water droplets falling on his pants. The first few hairs came easily enough, but his shaking hand soon nicked his skin. He breathed and carried on, but not a few seconds later it sliced into him again.

Levi dropped the looking glass on the bed. He pried the razor out of Erwin’s hand slowly and took it into his own.

“Relax, Erwin.”

Erwin could feel the urge to protest, but it melted away when Levi took Erwin’s face into his hands. They were warm, just like Levi’s body. His locked onto the stubble and softly eased the razor over the stubble. He ran his thumb over the skin behind Erwin’s ear as he did so, easing him into his touch. Erwin drank Levi in; the intense grey eyes, the short black hair and his small frame.

Levi shaved Erwin quickly, just as Levi did everything. He looked back to inspect his work, and it was one of the few times Erwin saw Levi smile. “Much better.”

Erwin smiled back, but could feel the tension in his shoulders. It was as if his entire being was being crushed. Erwin could feel it fully now; he had one arm, an arm that would be completely useless in battle, yet he was still a soldier, still a commander. He had an entire world to save, an entire future to craft. But how was he supposed to save humanity if he couldn’t do something as simple as shave his face? Did all the soldiers who died for him do it for a useless, one-armed commander?

“I don’t deserve you, Levi.”

Levi stared at him intensely, his eyes burning their way into Erwin’s very core. Erwin hated this, hated when he never said something.

“Hey,” Levi said. “Come back to bed, you look tired.”

He took Erwin’s hand and led him over. Erwin relaxed into the pillows, grateful for the respite from his thoughts. Levi sat in the chair again, content to watch him sleep.

“Here, come lie with me.”

Levi clambered over to Erwin’s bed, curling himself under his remaining arm. He let his head rest on Erwin’s shoulder. Erwin could feel himself about to nod off, until Levi whispered softly, so softly Erwin could barely hear it.

“That’s bullshit.”

“What is, Levi.”

“That you don’t deserve me.” Levi ran his hand over Erwin’s chest. “I hate it when you get like this. I chose you and I’m not going to give up on you.”

Erwin let his words hang in the air. He let them wash over him, seeping into his bones. He cupped Levi’s face and kissed him, tasting Levi’s favourite black tea. Using his remaining arm he pushed himself until he was on top of Levi, the smaller man wrapping his legs around his waist. Levi’s hands continued their exploration of Erwin’s chest, while Erwin’s hand trembled under his own weight. Levi could feel it, and simply rolled over until he was sitting on Erwin’s lap. He kissed him again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

Experiment #6 - Request

Requested by the sinners and anon: I have a suggestion for the next experiment- sherlock x reader. Its where sherlock points out that he’s not just using the reader’s body… And their relationship gets a label. (If this isnt where you want the story to go, i totally understand tho) <3
& anon: Experiment idea: they use various items from around the flat as sex toys (yknow, like carrots and cucumbers, wooden spoons, things like that) 

Pairing: Sherlock x reader

Word count: 2.068

Warnings: Smut - spanking, ice play (Coldplay xD), food play, teasing, soft smut.

A/N: Thank you to the anon who mentioned this series ending, you did this. I’m not sure if you would consider this an ending but uh… Yeah, it’s up to you guys.


Originally posted by sherlockedimagines

“Why do people have the need to experiment?” She repeated, “That is what Lestrade asked after his phone call with Donovan… There is only one way to find out.”

“We’re not using cherries,” Sherlock stated.

“We don’t have cherries.” She winked and Sherlock grinned mischievously as he took the spoon off her hands.

“Turn around.”

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The Secret MM Bad End 1
  • *It happens at the end of Day 4, in the Deep Story*
  • How To Get It: Only participate in chats with V in them/choose answers that show concern, worry or support for him.
  • *VN opens after the branch, with MC in the apartment, scrolling through the messenger and re-reading the chats with V*
  • MC: *sighs*
  • MC: ...If only he would come here to take me away...
  • *her phone rings, it shows 707 as the caller ID*
  • MC: *picks up the phone*
  • MC: Hey Seven, ssup-
  • 707: MC! Oh, thank goodness you're alright!
  • MC: Yes I'm okay, Seven, what's wrong? Did something about the hacker come up?
  • 707: That's what I thought, but this algorithm... *his voice cracks* I-I've never seen anything like it before...
  • MC: Seven... What are you...
  • 707: I lost the camera feed to the apartment and even the security system has been disabled... M-MC...
  • MC: *doesn't answer*
  • 707: Even V isn't picking up his phone... Gah!
  • 707: I'm on my way there, MC! Just keep the door locked and don't open it until you hear my voice, okay?!
  • *He hangs up*
  • *A moment later, there's the sound of the doorbell*
  • *MC has a choice to either stay put or call out, inquiring the person's identity. Neither option will change the outcome*
  • *The sound of the door opening, closing and then being locked is heard. V appears in the hall. He's not wearing his sunglasses.*
  • V: Hello MC... Nice to finally meet you in person. *mischievous chuckles* You look so much more beautiful up close.
  • MC: V...?
  • V: I've been watching you from the start... Just waiting for a sign. *laughs* And now that you've given me that sign, I take it that you know what it is you've asked for...
  • *As he talks, he walks closer and closer to MC, backing her up against the sofa hand, most probably making her fall backwards onto it. In her panic, she grabs the closest thing to her.*
  • *CG appears- MC on the sofa with V hovering over her, playing with her hair as he gives her a sweet smile that barely hides the deep, dark desire in his now distorted blue eyes*
  • V: Oh... Quiet eager aren't we? *chuckles darkly*
  • V: I can feel you trembling against me... But your face is telling me something else, hmm?
  • V: Haha... Don't worry love... Since you didn't choose anyone-
  • *His voice becomes a quiet whisper.*
  • V: I choose you.
  • Bad End
He had not believed in love at first sight until she walked into his life. He’d never thought he’d be in love - let alone fall in love so quickly. From the moment he saw her, he’d fallen in love with her deep blue eyes and dark brown freckles. He’d fallen in love with her smile and her dimples and the way that one strand of hair curled on a humid day. The way she spoke to him made him feel important, made him feel special. And that’s all he really needed. To feel special.

- L.L.
—  via @thoughtlessinspirationss
~ Hold My Hand ~

Originally posted by ch-est-er

Originally posted by cute-guysxx

Request: Jim Kirk, your boyfriend, teaching you to slow dance at a party. - Anon

Words: 2897

Warnings: None really, a little bit of tears and angst maybe, but the rest is hopefully fluff!

Beta’d: Again by the lovely @yourtropegirl! I’m sure all who follow me also follow her, but if you’re not following her… go do it! She’s lovely and kind and really, really nice!

A/N: I’M SO SORRY NONNIE! I have no idea why it took me so long, but I deleted this story at least 10 times before I found a beginning that I liked. And I’m also really sorry that the part of the actual dancing (or learning at least) was cut short, I just am a person with two left feet, so I kinda went with my own experience here (I did google how to teach slow dancing, but that didn’t really help me, because I had no idea how to turn what I saw into words, so I hope you’re not too mad at me!).

Tags (requested for this fic): @musingsongbird, @cookieoffortune 

“Ambassador Y/L/N?“

You put the little girl you had in your arms down on the ground and nudged her softly, pushing her in the direction of her friends and siblings, who were running around a little bit further down the path.

“Yes?,” you said, straightening yourself up and turning around to face the man who had spoken.

“I have a message for you. It’s from Yorktown.”

“Thank you”, you whispered, smiled weakly and took the letter with a trembling hand from the Vulcan. He just bowed a little and disappeared between some houses, his tunic floating in the wind.

As you pondered over the decision to open the letter or not, you walked down the path to the little cottage you called your home, at the border of the capital while you were on New Vulcan. Of course you had heard of the events in Yorktown and about the destruction of the Enterprise during the rescue mission of that alien’s crew, so you knew that the letter would come sooner or later.

The moment you walked through the door you slumped down to the floor, your body shaking and tears flowing. Not only had you lost your good friend Ambassador Spock some time ago, now you had to live with the knowledge that your boyfriend and his crew had passed away too.

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Sick Like Me - Part 1/20

Sick Like Me - Part 1

Fic Summary: With unfinished business hanging over your head, being locked up in Arkham is holding you back. However, you have your eye on a certain red-haired maniac, who may be just the person to help you escape and realize your true potential.  Fic Song. Fic Playlist. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Jerome Valeska/Female Reader

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, for a complete list of warnings, visit AO3.

A/N: Since the teaser is doing so well and I’m a couple chapters ahead I thought I’d post part 1. There are a lot of warnings, so I would suggest popping over to AO3 to check them out. Since this is still a work in progress, I will update the tags as needed. What’s listed now is stuff that I know for a fact will happen in the story. Enjoy!

Originally posted by chloequinzel

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True Colors (Part 2)

Originally posted by blueskyandpudding

(A/N: After a long and difficult few weeks, i’m FINALLY posting again.- thank you so much for all the reblogs and likes and lovely messages y’all send me- really it makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world, thank you so much! xx) 

Although you and Tina had grown fairly close, you were still sometimes doubtful about letting her go off on her own.

Not to say that Tina wasn’t capable of handling herself, because she certainly was, but it was her big heart that gotten her in trouble in the first place- and you didn’t want to give MACUSA any motive to get Tina in trouble whatsoever.

“I won’t go near the Second Salemers,” Tina sighed as you and her walked along Central Park on a Tuesday morning. “(y/n) I promise I won’t go.”

“Tina,” you sighed, “what if something bad happens?” you asked, eyebrows raised, “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Kind of hard to get in trouble if I’m not doing anything, I’ll just- I don’t know, I’ll just walk around and get some fresh air.”

Moments passed before either of you said anything. You could feel Tina’s hopeful eyes peering at you within every step you took. “Fine!” you finally cried, “go! But Tina, please, please, don’t give MACUSA any reason to get you in trouble.”

Tina jumped slightly in joy and hugged you tightly, “I’ll see you at home, yeah?” she said, “Queenie’s making dinner, and you know she’d hate it if you left without eating!”

“I’ll be there!” you called back as Tina skipped away from you in a hurry. ‘Knowing Tina,’ you thought, ‘she’s going to do the exact opposite of what I asked her to not do.’

As you walked around Central Park slowly, your mind slowly began to wander off as you stared at the nature that pooled in front of your eyes. If there was one thing you loved about New York, it was this beautiful park.

Spring could easily be considered your favorite season- the sight of the flowers awakening from their frosty sleep was definitely a sight worth seeing. As memories of Spring flooded your mind, you felt your hair slowly change, sending shivers down your spine.

Although you were completely accepted by Queenie and Tina for who you were, the fact that you had to stop yourself for MACUSA’s sake really did affect your ability to change.

While before, changing felt like second nature to you, at times, it now felt foreign, almost awkward whenever you would change. ‘I really shouldn’t be feeling this way,’ you thought to yourself as you stuffed your hands in your pockets, eyes glued to the ground.

‘Changing should feel like second nature-’ you continued, but your thoughts were quickly broken by a chirping sound. You popped your head up and quickly scanned the area, but came up with nothing.

Before you could take another step though, you heard the noise again, except this time you furrowed your eyebrows curiously as you walked closer to the broken chirping noise, your hand on your wand, just in case. “Hello?” you called out curiously, crouching down.

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Empty Promises: Jack & Jack Imagine.

Synopsis: You break up with Jack Johnson and when it finally sinks in that he is never coming back Gilinsky turns up to offer you some comfort…but is it the right kind or the right time? 

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore,” his dark eyelashes blink over his deep blue eyes. He was trying to blink away any sign of weakness or hurt, anything that made him look human. Your breath catches in your throat, and you swallow hard. The familiar lump you had felt the past few weeks was more prominent than ever. 

“Don’t cry,” You coax yourself in your mind before speaking, “don’t be sorry, I understand.” You nod, smiling through your sadness. Inside it felt like your whole body was trying to suffocate itself, you were shaking all the way to perfectly manicured nails. 

Jack Johnson, your boyfriend of two years nods, “thank you,” and with one last kiss to the forehead he disappeared. Just like that. Two years of wasted time, two years of wasted dreams.

You couldn’t resent Jack, it was just as much your fault that he fell out of love with you. 

That evening, you sigh, dropping onto your IKEA bed, the same one that came in a flat pack and caused a ten hour argument between you and Jack about how to put it together. There was still a chip on the headboard from you dropping it down the stairs of your house. You remember hating him for hours, but forgiving him instantly when he made you your favourite hot drink and gave you a forehead kiss. 

A small smile appears on your parched lips and the tears don’t hurt so much. The fights were so irrelevant back then. Your finger runs over the chip on your headboard and a sigh escapes your lips as the realisation that he is never coming back kicks in. 

“You okay?” A person appears at the doorway of your bedroom, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black v-neck, smelling freshly of clean laundry, Bulgari cologne, and spearmint toothpaste. Jack Gilinsky. 

You nod pressing the off button on your phone, “yeah, I just think my head has been in the wrong place for quite awhile and my relationships have suffered too much.” You sigh, “what are you doing here?” 

“I live here.” He reminds you with a chuckle, shutting the door behind him afore crawling onto your bed beside you, “roommates remember? I hear you and J bang every night.” 

“Well,” you sigh, “you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” 

Jack’s face softens, his arm extends and he swipes away your tears with his thumb, “I’m sorry.” He cups your cheek and you lean into it, his palm was so soft. His thumb brushes your bottom lip and your lips part pressing a kiss to it. He traces your lips, staring into your gaze, “for what it’s worth, I know your heart was in the right place,” he attempts to make you feel better. 

You laugh, more tears escaping your eyes, “Maybe I should have dated you instead, you seem to understand me,” you jokingly state, but Jack’s face turns serious and a blush of pink, his hand drops and he pushes himself away from you, “sorry I know that was a bad jo-” 

“No, no,” he cuts you off, “I just uh-it’s a bit surreal to hear you say that right about now.” 

“What?” You emphasise, “you wanted to…?” You trail off. 

“Kind of.” Jack shrugs, your breath catches in your throat for the second time today and soon, you don’t feel so alone anymore. You lean forward, one hand pushing his hair back as you place your face closer to his. 

“I can’t promise you anything,” you begin, his hands place on your hips and he draws your body closer to his. 

“I’m all for empty promises,” he begins afore placing his plump lips upon yours, your lips immediately part and you tilt your head to the right sinking into the thoughtless encounter that made you feel so loved even while you were sober. 

You were interrupted by a text. 

“I think I made a mistake - J” 

LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE A PART 2! I’d love to start writing back on this blog now that I have more time! Please send me in requests! 

One Year - Joe Sugg Imagine

Summary: it’s your son’s first birthday, and during his birthday party, you reminisce on the year that’s been and the years to come.

Word Count: 1248

Trigger Warnings: None. This is a happy imagine born from a happy place and a happy day.

Author’s Note: This imagine is partially inspired by my god son and nephew as it was his first birthday this week and I went to his party today. It is also partially inspired by Joe Sugg and my best friend (@earrthwalkerr) and her insatiable love for both Joe and for babies.

Originally posted by it-us

You let out a small smile of relief as you leaned against the brick wall of your home, looking out over your back garden with glee as you surveyed the plethora of small children and equally elated adults that filled it. Your smile only widened dramatically once your eyes fell on your boyfriend and your son, the birthday boy.

You could scarcely believe that it had been an entire year (plus a couple of days) since Theo had entered the world. You could remember that afternoon as clear as day too, you’d had Joe on one side, his hand brushing back your hair gently as he reassured you that this would all be worth it, that your little boy would soon be in your arms. On the other side, you had one of your oldest friends, her own pregnant belly protruding from her body as she smiled at you, reminding you of all the lazy afternoon ideas and late night conversations that you’d had about one day having your own families.

After what seemed like an eternity though, you finally had Theo in your arms, his already bright blue eyes blinking up at you hazily, and you wondered if this is what it felt like to love someone so wholly and so unconditionally.

The past year had flown by in a rush of playdates, engagement announcements,  weddings and new births, and now you were here at Theo’s first birthday, your little boy decked out in the cutest little swim trunks that you had ever seen.

He was the spitting image of his father, all blonde hair and bright blue eyes, constantly laughing and pointing at this and that, and always being more than keen for a feed and a boob. He was truly Joe’s mini me. You hadn’t known that your heart could ever feel as full and as ready to burst as it did now, but it was good. Whatever it had taken to get to this point didn’t matter anymore, because you were here and you had a beautiful family to prove it.

You were shaken out of your daze by Theo letting out a rather exuberant shriek of glee before he was on all fours, crawling across the grass as fast as his chubby little limbs would carry him. Your eyes followed him, watching as he sat next to a little girl with honey blonde hair and a pair of deep and dark blue eyes that you would know anywhere, your gaze landing on your closest friend and Theo’s godmother as she placed her daughter, Nora, on the blanket next to Theo before looking up at her husband as he hovered next to her.

You had known Jack Maynard for nearly as long as you had known Joe, and for most of that time, he had been a notorious player, the king of booty calls and never shy about sharing the sordid details with anyone who would stand still for long enough. You had imagined that he’d end up doing the same thing for as long as he lived.

And then, by pure accident, you had ended up introducing him to your friend and it was game over after that. She was not what you would have imagined he would go for; she was shy and meek and mild, whereas Jack was crass and wild and obnoxious, but from the moment they had met, they were endgame. You had been ready to throttle him for leaving when she told you she was pregnant not four months after they had been introduced, but he’d taken to parenthood like a duck to water.

You were thankful for it all though, Nora had been born just a couple of weeks after Theo and the pair of them were the best of mates. You were thankful to have another mum to share your concerns and confusions and struggles with as well. Especially with your prospective partners having such active careers, it was comforting to know that you weren’t alone.

You jumped slightly when you felt a pair of arms wind themselves around your waist gently, followed by a pair of lips pressing against your shoulder softly. You peered over at your boyfriend over your shoulder, smiling slightly when you caught sight of the grin plastered over his face.

“We did good, didn’t we?” he whispered in your ear, his grin broadening as the goosebumps on your arms spread up to your neck and shoulders. You followed his line of sight to where your bright and bubbly baby boy was now perched on Jack’s hip, giggling up at the blonde man as they took a picture with his wife and daughter.

“Well I did at least, his lack of co-ordination is all you,” You grinned up at him, wrapping an arm around his neck as you turned slightly in his arms, giggling at the look of shocked offence on his face. “We’ve done well so far though, everyone always says how happy of a baby he is,” you smile up at him, admiring the way his blue eyes sparkled down at you; the eyes that you saw every time you looked at Theo.

Your moment was disrupted by a loud screech across the garden, both of your heads snapping up at the sudden cry. Your eyes immediately flew to your boy, his plump bottom wobbling as you looked towards him, his chubby hands reaching out for you as your arms dropped from around your boyfriend as you hurried over, scooping Theo up into your arms.

“Mama!” he giggled, clapping his chubby little hands together as you propped him up on your hip, “My happy birthday?” he asks you as you bounce him slightly on your hip. You smile down at him adoringly before nodding.

“Yes baby, it’s your happy birthday, are you having fun with Uncle Jack and Norah?” you asked him, seeing Joe appear next to you out of your peripheral vision. He brushed his hand over Theo’s blonde curls gently as he rested his other arm around your hips.

“Yeahhhhh,” Theo giggled, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as you laughed softly, brushing your hand along his back as he giggled into your neck. “Wanna play with daddy though,” he mumbled into your neck, before pulling back and trying to launch himself into Joe’s arms.

You smiled as Joe scooped him up, tossing him into the air heartily and catching him, Theo’s giggles reverberating around the garden as Joe brought him back down and pressed a kiss to his pink cheeks before tossing him up in the air again.

“Dada!” Norah Maynard’s voice piped up, her tiny little fist clutching onto the bottom of Jack’s T-shirt and tugging on it, “Wanna go up up too!” she asked, blinking her big blue eyes up at her father. Soon she too was being thrown into the air, her little dress twirling up around her as she flew into the air.

“We’ve certainly come a long way from obsessing over boys on the internet,” A voice piped up beside you, having not even noticed your friend standing next to you, “Who would have known we’d ever end up here?” She grinned at you, her arms crossed over her stomach lightly. “Have you told him yet?” she asked you, her eyes flicking down to your stomach inconspicuously.  

“Not yet, tonight though,” you replied, your hand subconsciously resting on your stomach. Although you weren’t showing or anything yet, you had known for nearly a month.

Soon enough, you would be celebrating another babies first birthday.

‘don’t wait up’ (au niklaus mikaelson one-shot)

Prompt: One day, Niklaus had the brilliant idea of sleeping over at your place after getting kicked out of his apartment. Coincidentally, that was the night you were having a boy over. After standing him up and making excuses, you and Nik got into a heated argument. The argument led to some heated sex and the arrangement has gotten more… comfortable now. He rests his hand on your ass or bites your shoulder or kisses your neck and you two just barely avoid getting caught by your friends.

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: daddy!Klaus, slight smut, bit of an achy breaky ending

A/N: this is a little long, and i left it with a cliff-hanger ending. i also changed it a little from the original prompt i had. i’m sorry i haven’t written in so long! thank you guys for being patient and supportive. please please please read this and tell me what you think. much love XOXOX

“Niklaus Mikaelson. What the hell is going on?!” Klaus just walked into my apartment, groaning about how he got kicked out of his apartment and how he’ll be living with me from now on.

“Oh come on, love. I explained it quite clearly to you. I got kicked out of my apartment due to a noise complaint, which is complete rubbish let me tell you,” he shrugs as I cross my arms over my chest. “I can’t control how loud the girls scream.”

“Ew!” I groan and he smirks, chuckling softly as his eyes roam over my half-dressed body.

“Were you going somewhere?” He leans against the wall, eyes not leaving mine.

“No, Klaus. I just like to dress up and dance on my own sometimes,” I roll my eyes and make my way to my room.

“Seriously, what are your plans? I’d like to join,” he shrugs, following me like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s into that,” I shrug and he crinkles his nose.

“You’re dressing up for a boy?” he leans against my dresser, eyes narrowing at my clothing choice.

“Well, I’m dressing for myself. He sees me, wants me, pleases me. End of story,” I shrug and he gags. “Oh please. I’m not the one who got kicked out of my apartment for noise complaints.”

“Not my fault I’m so good at what I do,” he shrugs and I glare at him.

“I’m gonna need you to disappear for tonight. Come back tomorrow afternoon; I’ll even make brunch for you!”

“Yeah, no, I don’t think so. I’m staying right here,” he smirks and sits down at the edge of my bed.

“Niklaus Mikaelson, leave right this minute!” I walk over to him, stopping a foot away from him. “I’m getting laid tonight and I won’t let you stand in the way of that.”

“I can probably please you better than he can,” he raises a brow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I saw you, now I want you. All that’s left is for me to please you.”

“No,” I ignore the skip in my heartbeat and cross my arms over my chest, determined not to let Klaus get to me. “Leave.”

“Do you really want that?” His voices comes out in a husky whisper, his hands tentatively moving towards my thighs.

“Klaus,” I close my eyes, telling myself I needed him to leave. His hands rest against my upper thighs, slowly moving down to the back of my knees. He pulls me closer and I open my eyes, determined to tell him no.

“Say the word and I’ll be gone,” he whispers, his breath hitting my bare stomach as his deep blue eyes never leave my dark chocolate ones. I can’t say I’ve never wanted this, haven’t thought about it. Hell, I need this. I need him.

“P-please don’t go,” I whimper, a growl emitting from Klaus’s throat as I ask him to stay.

“I won’t,” he places a desperate kiss on my stomach, his hands moving up to grab my ass. “Fuck, princess.”

“Yes, daddy?” Klaus’s breath hitches in his throat and my eyes widen. Fuckfuckfuck why did I just–?

“Say that again,” his voice drops a few octaves as his eyes move up to meet mine, sea blues now a stormy navy.

“W-what?” I gulp, unable to maintain eye contact with him.

“I said, say that again, princess,” his hand moves under my chin, tilting my head to face him. Our eyes meet, a newfound hunger in his beautiful orbs.

“Y-yes da-daddy?” I whisper, my cheeks turning a deep red.

“Here I was thinking I had an innocent little angel on my hands,” Klaus smirks, his dimples emerging. “I’ve got a bad little girl here.”

I tremble as Klaus leaves a trail of kisses from one hip to the other. I tangle my fingers into his dirty blond locks, tugging gently.

“Hmph,” he looks up at me, trailing his tongue from my navel to the bottom of my bralette. “You look so beautiful, princess. I’ve got half a mind to fuck you with this on.”

“O-oh,” I let out a light moan, closing my eyes as his hands move under the waistband of my panties.

“But I can’t quite eat you out with this pretty little thing still on… unless my little pet is even more kinky than I thought?” He swiftly slips a finger between my soaking fold and I nearly fall over on top of him. “Mmmm, someone’s very wet.”

“P-please,” I moan as Klaus runs his fingers over my slit.

“Please what, princess?” He smirks, his teeth nipping my bare abdomen.

“Please eat me out, daddy,” I whisper, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest when he lets out a low chuckle.

“How can I refuse when princess asks so nicely?” He moves his head lower and his lips hover over my panty-covered opening. “We’ll leave your panties on this time.”

And before I can argue that this would be the ONLY time, he had me trembling over him, one leg resting over his shoulder as his skilled tongue worked against my throbbing clit.

Two Years Later

As it turns out, that wasn’t the only time. There were plenty of other times, during many of which I returned the favor. It wasn’t easy, but we managed to keep this little… agreement of ours hidden from our friends; although, lately it’s been harder to do so. Klaus has gotten more and more handsy over the last two years. I’m not one to complain, but when his sister almost caught us, I became a little paranoid.

Rebecca and I have grown closer ever since Klaus moved in with me. She was the only girl who understood exactly how annoying Klaus was to live with; she’s only spent her entire life with him, so I trust her instinct.

“Klaus! Brunch is ready!” I made some pancakes and eggs for him, seeing as he kept me pretty occupied well into the day and I called in sick to work.

“Thanks, love,” he kisses my neck from behind and sits down at the dining table.

“Yeah, well I called off work because of you,” I stick my tongue out at him and bring him the breakfast. He chuckles and pulls me into his lap.

“I’m more in the mood for you than the breakfast,” he nuzzles his nose against my neck, biting down on my shoudler as his grip on my waist tightens.

“No no no,” I groan and nudge him. “I worked hard on this breakfast and it looks very cute. You are going to eat it.”

“Fine, fine,” he smiles and brushes the hair out of my face. “Thank you for this.”

“As I recall, you’re the one who barged into my place two years ago and collided into my life,” I laugh and kiss him, tugging on his bottom lip as I pull away. “Maybe you’ll get lucky after you finish eating.”

“Oh,” he groans as I laugh and move away. “You little minx.”

“Your minx,” I wink, Klaus chuckling as he begins to eat. “Klaus, love. Rebecca and Damon are stopping by today to help me study for my finals. Please be good.”

“I’m always good,” he winks and I roll my eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

The doorbell rings and I groan, realizing all I’ve got on is Klaus’s dress shirt and some panties. He smirks and raises his brows at me.

“Please open the door. I’m gonna go change,” I walk over to Klaus and kiss his cheek. “Thanks, babe.”

“Fine, fine,” he walks towards the door as I run into my bedroom.

I quickly change into a light grey t shirt and some skinny jeans, nearly tripping over my second left foot on my way out the door.

“Hi,” I smile, greeting a smiling Bex and a deflated Damon. “What happened to you?”

“Your roommate is being an ass,” he pouts and looks over to me.

“Damon, darling, do you expect anything else?” I smile and wrap my arms around my best friend.

I meet Klaus’s eyes over Damon’s shoulder and his gaze hardens when he sees how tightly I’m hugging Damon. I frown and the look disappears almost as quickly as it appears.

“Alright, ready to get some studying done?” Damon and Bex smile at me and I groan.

“We’ll take that as a yes,” Bex winks at me as her and Damon cover the living room in Biology notes and flashcards.

“Ugh,” I groan and walk over to Klaus. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he gives me a tight-lipped smile. “I’m just being good.”

He drops his empty plate in the sink and rolls his shoulders. I furrow my brows and watch as an emotionless smirk makes its way onto his face.

Originally posted by seriouslyniklaus

“While you lot are here studying, I’ll be picking up some lovely ladies,” he winks at me and I fight to keep the disappointment off my face. “Don’t wait up for me, love.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, Niklaus,” I turn on my heel and make my way to the living room. How dare he?

“Goodbye,” he walks out the door, not earning any sort of acknowledgement from me.

“Alright, drown me in Bio facts,” I groan and sit down in the middle of the living room, determined not to let Klaus get in my head… because it was THAT easy.

By the standards of the era, Louis-Auguste could be considered handsome. He had thick dark eyebrows, an aquiline Bourbon nose, deep set, large blue-grey eyes, and a full sensual mouth. The Duchess of Northumberland, a friend of Choiseul’s, was at Versailles for Louis and Antoinette’s wedding; she said: “The Dauphin disappointed me much. I expected him to be horrid but I really liked his aspect. He is tall and slender with a très intéressant figure and he seems witty. He has a quite pale complexion and eyes. He has a mass of fair hair very well planted.” As a teenager, Louis-Auguste was tall and thin, soon to be the tallest man at Court, and enjoyed intense physical exercise, such as hunting and hammering at his forge. His physical strength became legendary; he could lift a shovel to shoulder height with a young boy standing on the end of it. Possessing a hardy appetite, he developed a paunch as he approached his thirties. He was often clumsy and diffident in his manner although not without dignity in his bearing. The efforts of his detractors to make him unattractive and therefore unlovable serve the purpose of giving his wife an “excuse” for chronic infidelity, another highly-popularized myth.

Marie-Antoinette, Daughter of the Caesars: Her Life, Her Times, Her Legacy - Elena Maria Vidal

John paused in his typing to look up at his flatmate across the sitting room. The telly was on, but the volume was turned down, so it was more of an ambient noise. Neither of them had been watching anyway. John had been typing up their latest case, while Sherlock had been sprawled in their armchair with his fingers steepled together underneath his chin.

It was disconcerting how quiet Sherlock had been since they had returned from Scotland Yard. He seemed to be staring at nothing, and the bluish-white glow coming from the telly danced eerily across his pale features. Even as John had been struggling with the right words to put on his blog, he had also been bracing himself for another of Sherlock’s dark moods following the close of another case. And even though John should’ve already been used to it, the way Sherlock had been watching him closely for the past several minutes still gave John an uneasy feeling, like he was another one of those organisms being placed on a glass slide and examined under Sherlock’s microscope.

He wondered what was occupying Sherlock’s mind at the moment for him to be so deep in thought. And he wondered what Sherlock was deducing about him now. As he ducked his head to return to his writing, however, it was then that Sherlock finally decided to break his silence.

“Why do you always follow me?”

John’s fingers froze over the keyboard. Slowly, he raised his head to meet Sherlock’s piercing eyes. “Would you care to be more specific than that?” John frowned as his gaze settled on the bandages circling Sherlock’s left hand. “How’s your wrist?”

“The swelling has reduced considerably. I’ve been keeping it elevated above my heart like you’ve said. Why do you always follow me? Why do you always go where I go, even when I don’t ask you to?”

Of course Sherlock would be as direct and blunt in this as he was in everything else. John rubbed his eyebrows tiredly. He carefully saved his blog entry for him to edit later and closed his laptop to give Sherlock his full attention. “What brought this on, Sherlock?” he asked gently. “Why are you suddenly asking me this?”

“You don’t answer a question with another question.” Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “You’re deflecting.”

“And you’re being irrational.” John pursed his lips. “Is this about last night? Did you not want me to be there?”

“What I want is irrelevant,” Sherlock said curtly. “You could’ve been shot. Again.

“And you could’ve broken something worse than your wrist,” John snapped. “You jumped out of a window, for Christ’s sake!”

“I wouldn’t have needed to if you hadn’t been there to be an easy target!” Sherlock shot back.

John inhaled sharply, and Sherlock clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer,” John said quietly, his voice suddenly made of steel.

Sherlock glared at him for a few more seconds before he resolutely turned his head to stare broodingly out the window. John pressed his lips together indignantly before he reached for the remote and turned off the television. Dimly he noted that his left hand was steady as it slowly replaced the remote on the table. Then with a deep breath, he turned his attention back to Sherlock and silently waited for the storm to pass.

He didn’t have long to wait. “Did it ever occur to you, John,” said Sherlock, “That it might be wrong for you to follow me?”

John narrowed his eyes in apprehension. The anger and the hurt were still simmering low in his gut, but he could feel his pulse quickening with worry. “Why are you saying this, Sherlock?”

“Because I don’t always know.”

And it was this simple, quiet admission that stole the breath out of John. “What?

Slowly, Sherlock turned to face him again. Sadness, frustration, doubt, and self-pity were all warring within his grey gaze. “I don’t always know what I’m doing, John. Sometimes it seems like I do, but I don’t. I really don’t. I don’t know everything all the time.”

And underneath it all, John realized with a jolt of surprise, was guilt.

“Of course you don’t, Sherlock, that’s not why I—”

“I can’t always anticipate what will happen next. I can’t always accurately predict what the next move should be. I don’t always know where we should go or what we should do or who we should trust.” John’s eyes were widening at the almost hysterical note Sherlock’s words were escalating to. “I don’t always know what’s right or what’s true and if you follow me all the time I might lead you to a mistake, John. Because sometimes I’m wrong and—”

Sherlock abruptly stopped to catch his breath, and John unconsciously inhaled along with him. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath along with Sherlock.

“And it might cost you your life,” Sherlock finished softly.

And there it was: the crux of the matter, the source of this ridiculously convoluted misunderstanding. Sherlock’s eyes were oddly bright and he turned away, blinking furiously.

“Sherlock, you self-righteous twat,” John whispered. “I don’t follow you because you’re right all the time. I follow you because—”

He felt his throat suddenly constrict, and he swallowed, unable to continue speaking.

The chain felt heavy against his chest.

“Because what, John?” Sherlock quietly asked.

He turned at the sound of a clinking chain, unnaturally loud in the quiet that descended upon the room. Sherlock blinked as he realized that John had loosened his shirt at the collar and was clutching at the end of a chain that dangled from his neck. John caught his inquisitive gaze and smiled at him tentatively.

“Do you know what this is?” John asked.

“Yes,” answered Sherlock, before he hesitantly added, “It’s your dog tag from your days in Afghanistan.”

He watched as John stared at it with an unreadable expression on his face. “Did you know I was still wearing it?”

“I’ve… always suspected,” Sherlock began slowly, “but you always wore your shirts buttoned up to the collar, so I never really had proof.” He straightened in his seat and let his hands fold delicately onto his lap. “Until now.”

John’s gaze rose to steadily meet his. “Do you know what it’s for?”

Sherlock took his time in answering, suddenly wary of the direction the conversation was heading. “It’s worn by military personnel, required at all times especially while on the field,” he said. When John remained silent, and seemed to wait for him to continue, Sherlock took a deep breath before he elaborated. “It contains the bearer’s basic medical information, such as blood type and history of inoculations, as well as the bearer’s religious preferences. Its primary use is for identification of the dead or the wounded should they ever be left out in the battlefield.”

“And with these tags, the bodies can be properly treated or disposed,” John quietly added. He ran his fingers over the twin pendants. “If the bearer is killed, the second tag is collected for notification, and the first remains with the body for later identification. That is, if they even come back for it.”

Sherlock felt his chest suddenly tighten. “Why are you telling me this?”

John smiled at him, but there was no humor in his eyes. “You’re the genius, Sherlock. Why don’t you tell me the reason why I’m still wearing it?”

Sherlock frowned anxiously, but the intrigue of solving this puzzle – the enigmatic Dr. John Watson – proved too tempting to resist. He leaned forward in his seat and let his elbows rest on his knees as his steepled fingers touched his lips. He peered at John closely.

“It’s definitely not because of a fashion statement,” Sherlock declared. “It’s not exactly something you like putting on display for people to notice since you’ve been hiding it underneath your clothes all this time.”

The corners of John’s eyes crinkled in suppressed amusement, and he nodded for Sherlock to continue.

He cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowed in deep thought. “And it’s not because of sentimental attachment either,” Sherlock said slowly. “You’ve been having nightmares about the war, and it’s not something you enjoy reliving.” This time, John’s eyes widened in surprise. “Some of these memories… are things you’d rather forget.”

Sherlock noted with satisfaction the way John’s jaw clenched and the way his fist tightened around the chain. He probably didn’t expect that Sherlock knew that much about him.

“But wearing that dog tag isn’t helping you forget these nightmares,” Sherlock mused. “So why not just discard it or put it away? Why hold on to it?”

John was silent. Sherlock watched him closely, determined to know the answer. Then his gaze flickered to the gun resting beside John’s laptop, and he breathed out, “Oh.”

John tilted his head. “Figured it out, then?”

Sherlock looked into John’s eyes. “It’s for security. Wearing it gives you a sense of comfort.” He glanced briefly at the silver pendants. “It somehow makes you feel… safer.”

John was looking at him as if he was expecting more. When it seemed that Sherlock was done speaking, John slowly let out the breath he had been holding and shook his head, a small smile on his lips.

“So close, Sherlock,” John murmured. “So very, very close… but not quite.”

Mesmerized, Sherlock watched as John rolled his neck and raised his fist above and around his head to remove the necklace. The chains clinked against each other as John dropped his arm, the tags clutched firmly in his left hand.

John’s eyes were a deep, dark blue as he opened his fingers and gazed at the engravings. Sherlock couldn’t help but notice that, under the dim light of their sitting room, John looked more tired and world-weary than ever.

“I was scared to be without this identification, Sherlock,” John finally admitted quietly. “That’s the simplest and most basic truth, summed up for your judgment. I was scared.”

Sherlock’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because,” John said softly, “I was scared I might disappear.”

Sherlock swore he literally felt and heard his mind grind to a halt. “What?”

Desperately, he tried to catch John’s gaze, but already John was somewhere far away, caught between a desert sun and a rain of bullets, a place where Sherlock had no hope of following.

“I went to join the war in Afghanistan because I wanted to be somebody. Not in the sense that I wanted fame or recognition, but… I wanted to be useful in this world. I don’t want to waste my life just standing by and doing nothing. I wanted to matter.”

His right hand reached over to clutch his left shoulder. “And then this happened, and I was sent back to London before I was done fighting, like some discarded piece of broken weaponry and—”

The chains rattled as John’s left hand trembled of its own accord.

“And then I was a nobody again,” John whispered. “I was a limping, wretched waste of space, whose hard-earned medical degree had been useless in curing the pain that didn’t even exist.

“John,” Sherlock interjected, and he inwardly cursed himself for being truly at a loss for words. Helpless, he could only watch as John curled his right hand over his left in an effort to control the tremors. John let out a shaky breath as he dropped his gaze and stared at the floor as he spoke.

“Did you know, Sherlock,” John murmured. “I used to stare at the walls of my old flat and think, ‘I could die here, and no one would even know. No one would even remember who I am, or what I did in my short, pathetic life.’”

And then suddenly, the gears clicked together in Sherlock’s mind, and the reason became glaringly, horrifyingly clear.

John,” Sherlock whispered.

“I figured if I’m wearing these tags when I die,” John said softly, “At least they’d know my name.”

Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat when John suddenly raised his head to smile at him. “You know, I think your brother figured me out even before you did, Sherlock. Hell, I think he knew even before I did.”

Sherlock frowned. “What does Mycroft have to do with anything?”

“He told me the truth,” John said simply. “‘When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield.’”

Sherlock’s brows creased. He had been watching John closely all this time, and after that strange pronouncement, he couldn’t understand why John looked so… at peace with it. “Because I always lead you to danger?” Sherlock asked tentatively. “Because I risk your life everyday when I ask you to follow me?”

John stared at him for a long moment. And then impossibly, against all reason, John’s smile widened. “You were right.”

“I was right.” Sherlock blinked. “Right about what?”

“You really don’t always know.” John was grinning now, and the change that overcame his previously solemn features was staggering. “So you better listen closely, because I’m going to tell you something I can’t believe you still don’t know.”

John stood up and walked to the center of the sitting room. “And I’m actually glad you asked, because I realized…”

And Sherlock could only gape in shock as John promptly dropped his dog tag in a carton box in the middle of the floor.

“I don’t need this anymore.”

Sherlock stared at the twin pieces of metal resting against his leather gloves. “Why?”

John straightened, his shoulders thrown back. His whole body felt suddenly, immeasurably lighter without the added weight around his neck. “Because your brother is right. I do see the battlefield in you. And you’re a war worth fighting for. Because regardless of what other people think of you, or what you think of yourself, you’re a good man, Sherlock Holmes. And I follow you,” John paused, reevaluated his words, and amended, “I choose to walk with you, beside you, because…”

He turned to face Sherlock fully.

“You’re my greatest victory. You’re the battle I’ve already won.”

Stormy grey eyes met a calm sea of blue as Sherlock swallowed and asked, “And what were you fighting against?”

And John’s weathered face broke into a gentle smile. “Being forgotten.”

The spell that had wrapped around them was suddenly broken by the jarring sound of a ringing phone. Both men stared at each other stupidly for a moment before John realized that the sound was coming from his own pocket. He reached inside his jacket and fumbled with his phone as he stared at the name flashing across the screen. “It’s one of my patients,” John muttered. “Hang on, Sherlock, I have to take this call, excuse me for a moment.” He stepped out into the hallway to answer.

Several minutes later, John hanged up, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Sorry, Sherlock, but I think I have to head out tonight.” He replaced his phone back in his pocket and turned towards Sherlock.   “I have to go visit this patient of mine, he seems to be having complications with his… medication…”

John’s words trailed off. He stood in the hallway, transfixed, not trusting himself to speak, not even daring to breathe.

Sherlock was now standing in the middle of the sitting room, his body half-turned away from John. His head was bowed, and his unruly curls had fallen across his face, partially obscuring John’s view of his eyes. In his bandaged hand, he was clutching John’s dog tag.

And with agonizing slowness, Sherlock raised the twin pendants to his mouth and pressed his lips tenderly against them.

I’ll remember.” The words were murmured against the cold metal in an intimate caress, a solemn promise, a heartfelt truth. “I’ll remember.

You always loved that smile

Work: I

Owkeey, this is my very first Imagine ever wrote! I’m a hugh Vikings fan, an even bigger fan of Ivar soo … I thought to write something about him and you. So first of all, it’s an imagine, not historical right, second … English isn’t my mother language so don’t mind the grammar, small errors, or large for that matter. I’m a little nervous and excited about this so pleaaaaase leave a comment or whatever so that I can build on that and maybe write more of this stuff.

Thanks you!!

Summary: After three long months your husband returns from Engeland.
Words: 1233

“Mommy,” You immediately looked up to your three year old son who stood very close to the kliff. You lived here already for a very long time, a three hour walk from kattegat,closer to Odin then anywhere else. You loved it here, the silence, the vieuw that travels many miles over the sea. It was peacefull up here and it’s the kind of peace you and your husband derserves.
“Don’t stand to close!” You said to him. He was just his father, dark hair, deep blue eyes and just as much temper like your husband had.
“But look!” He pointed out. You walked away from the cradle where you two month old daughter was sleeping and get to your son. You followed his finger and than you saw it to … the ships.

Finally, after three months of waiting they returned from Engeland, the great heathen army. Loki wrapt his arms arounds you legs will you both just stood there, watching the vieuw of a hunderd ships sailing back to Kattegat. “Come on little men.” You pulled Loki with you back to the house. As a former shieldmaiden you wanted to go but your husband never let you, becides you where pregnant again, and you had Loki to take care off. You saddled the horse en put Loki before you in the saddle, your daughter wrapt in you cloak, she slept the entire way down to Kattegat.

By the time you arrived the ships where all docked and the treasures where already unloaded. By the looks of it the sons of Ragnar had there revenge. Loki was impatient to see his father but you where just afraid. What if the Gods didn’t answer your prayers? What if he died in battle? You eyes found his carrage Floki made for him, you looked at the dried blood on it, spooked by he idea you where maybe a widow now. You held your daughter closer as you walked futher with Loki by your side. “Dad!” He suddenly yelled.
“Loki!” You demand but he just disappeared in the crowd.

You looked around only to find Ubbe watching your son as he ran to his father. He was smiling and that was a good sing. Your eyes travelled further, following Loki right to you husband who was sitting on a crate. You had held your breath the entire time. You didn’t knew you where stopped walking, you just looked at him and your son who was trowing his hands around his father. Ubbe was laughing, even Hvitserk had a happy smile on his face. All of them proparbly wanted some love after a journey like that and this was some kind of that. Ivar pulled Loki away from his chest and put his hands on Loki’s schoulders. “My son, did you take care of the house?” He’d asked.
“Yes father.” Loki replied proudly. Ivar was so occupied with your son that he didn’t looked up at you yet.
“We missed our favorit shieldmaiden in battle.” Ubbe said with a smile looking towards you. You smilled to him, glad to see him healthy and in one piece.
“I missed you boys to.”
“Don’t claim here brother, she’s mine.” Ivar said with a sharp yet light tone.
“You were to busy with your son and y/n just stood there.” Ubbe defended himself. Your eyes meet those of your husband,  those deep blue eyes you loved from the very beginning. His face softened a little, you saw that loving sparkle you missed so much come back to his eyes.

Ubbe pulled Loki from Ivar away and threw him around, telling all about the battle so that you had a clear path to your husband. He reached his hand to you, you took it gladly as he pulled you on his lap. You dreamed for days of this moment, the moment you just could be with him, his smell of sweat and battle, de toutch of his fingers throught your clothes. “y/n, I missed you.” He said. He cupped your face, gentle pulled you closer until you fourheads where against each other.
“I prayed every day for your safe return home my love, I missed you terribly.” You stroke your hand through his dark hair, looked in his blue eyes before you revealled your daughter to him. His eyes sharpend a little and he held his breath for a minute. “She is fine Ivar.” You knew he was scared of the idea that his sons or daughters could turn out to be like him, a cripple.
“Does she has a name?” He asked softly while he runs his finger over her small head. She maked some noice, hardly waking up about it.
“No, I waited for you.” “She’s beautifull, as beautifull as you are.” He looked up at you again, pressed his lips against yours. You opened you mouth, let his tast and smell overwelm you for a moment.
“I thought I’d never see you again.” You wispered when you break the kiss before it became to much to handle in that moment.
“You will always see me again y/n, here or in Valhalla.” He comforted you and you smiled a little.
“We have much catching up to do.” You said. His seductive smile travelled up his face and you slapped him on the arm. “I mean it,  there happend things here.” You turned your head to Ubbe and Hvitserk. “We were attacked.” You began.
“By who?” Ubbe asked. You looked down to your lap where your daughter was still sleeping. The memory of the attack passed by and the idea of almost losing Loki makes you shiver.
“Who?” Demanded Ivar, I froze a moment from the harsh tone in his voice. “Y/n, you always loved a good fight, the fact that this one scared you said enough.” He stroke his fingers under your chin. Your eyes brought themselves to Loki who stood between Hvitserk and Ubbe. “Tell me, so I can revenge your pain.” He said softly, You shiverd again.
“It was a bastard son of an earl, he was under command of King Harald.” You didn’t looked to your husband as you know what kind of look you would find. You looked at Ubbe instead. “Lagertha and Torvi protected me because I couldn’t fight so far in pregnancy. Lagertha saved Loki.” You looked at Ivar who was pressing his jaws together in anger, his eyes darkened and focust.
“Ivar, not now. We are just back, let Lagertha handle this with Bjorn.” Hvitserk said.
“He almost killed my son, my wife!”
“But I’m good, Ivar I’m good, we are safe, look at me.’ You demanded gently. He looked at you, his rage tempered by the love in your eyes. “I wanna go home with you, I missed you, please don’t do this now.” You begged him.
“I will talk with Bjorn.” Ubbe said with a straight nod. You looked back to your husband.
“Do you want to  come home, please?” You asked. His jaws relaxed a little and he nodded. “Like I said, we have much catching up to do.” You smiled a little while saying it. His blue eyes met yours and his eyebrown kicks up.
“Let’s go home then.” He wispers while his fingers leave a promesing pressure behind in the small of your back. You stood up, only to see that amazing smile spread over his face.