elated face

I just had the most random thought that I now really want to happen.

let me set the scene. the squad is at school, as usual, and marinette, for some reason, has alya’s phone. (wouldn’t put it past her to take someone’s phone considering her track record ayy lmao) she’s taking selfies on it, some super cute but most just pulling incredibly dumb faces. 

then, on the cusp of one hella gorgeous photo where she looks like an actual angel, sunshine boy™ adrien agreste comes over from behind with a friendly and slightly awed* “hey marinette!”
(*he’s a one woman man, of course, but dang. she looked real cute in that almost selfie. can ya really blame him?)

she sees him in the phone screen and she’s shook. her expression transforms into one of pure unadulterated joy and somewhere in the seconds that pass instantaneously and yet feel like hours, she captures a photo right then. he’s in the background, looking incredible as always, and her eyes have just shifted toward him, and her expression is lovestruck. like, undeniably so. but something happens in the moment that prevents her from even noticing or looking back on the photo, and she gives alya her phone back later without having even seen said glorious selfie.

then alya. oh, alya. being the wonderful friend and impeccable wingman she is, she spams the squad group chat (bc don’t even try to tell me they don’t have one) with several of marinette’s selfies, pretending to be mad about mari taking her phone. but they’re all stunning photos, of course. and (, of course, ) the one is included. adrien sees the photo and.. oh dang. has this always been a thing? has this always been her beautiful reaction to simply seeing him? is there a reason she’s so happy? and how has he literally never noticed such elation on her face before?

he messages nino immediately. ‘dude. this photo. marinette looks really happy to see me?? I mean, it looks like she does anyway- maybe I’m reading into it. does this mean anything? is she normally this excited to see her friends?’

nino’s reply is instantaneous.

‘dude. DUDE.’

'what?’ 

'are you actually that blind? pay attention to her expressions and mannerisms the next time u see her. hopefully you’ll understand. we’ll see.’

he follows nino’s instruction and after surprisingly very little time at all, it hits him like a ton of bricks.

she does not, in fact, act this way around all her friends.

that spark of light in her eyes, that elated smile; those are marinette specials reserved for very few things. raspberry macarons, fashion, and apparently:
himself.

“plagg, I think.. I think marinette dupain-cheng likes me.”

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yuzuru hanyu in the kiss and cry | yuzuru and 2017 worlds gif collection (1/?)

4

#just wanted to appreciate the adorableness of Betty & Jughead in this scene. #first Jug’s comment about her as they entered the door. #then Betty’s bouncy hoppity skip as they yelled surprise and that elation on her face. #plus Jughead’s hilarious shock face. #then her proud girlfriend expression when he realises it’s all her plan. #and then her touching his arm when drunk Archie comes over to hug.

“Long Distance” ( Suga Smut)

Originally posted by nnochu

Title: Long Distance

Featuring: Suga (BTS) x Reader

POV: 2nd

Rating: NC-17 super smut, lots of dirty talk

Summary: Yoongi misses the sound of your voice.

Requested by anon!


“Are you sure you can stay on the phone? You won’t fall asleep?”

Yoongi being so far away was always like slow torture, and you weren’t sure if your nightly phone calls made it better or worse. Tonight he sounded extra lazy after a long day, but insisted on calling you anyhow.

“I’m sure; I just really wanted to hear your voice.”

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*waiting for American Gods to load up*

hub talking to me: I wonder how they’re going to adjust this story for television, because there’s a lot of stuff they’re not going to be able to show.  It’s way too graphic.

Brian Fuller: Hold my beer…

Observer

Pairing: Newt Scamander x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: implied smut boiiiii

A/n: just a short little fic I wanted to get out because this idea has been on my mind for ages! I didn’t really put that much effort into this one because I’ll most likely write up a smut version of this ! Newt is such a hot nerd wow

Originally posted by ucresearch

Pretty red lips, hair slightly curled. Tonight you were dolled up and ready to head out for dinner with your friends. Newt bit his lip as he sketched the way you looked tonight, making sure to emphasise the darkness of your eyeliner. He could barely contain himself as he observed you, wand in his mouth, pencil drawing out the curves of your body in that tight-fitting dress. He wasn’t much of an artist, but he made sure to at least capture every rare creature he came across.

“Newt, are you coming?” Queenie chimed as you, Tina and Jacob were filing out the door. You lingered there, your painted nails tapping on the wooden frame as you waited.

“Sorry, I just needed to note something I remembered.” He replied, hoping that he wasn’t blushing under your gaze. He looked down upon his notebook before he closed it up, binding it and throwing it into his suitcase.

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anonymous asked:

Makkachin runs away and Yuuri just happens to be the person who finds him

The rain pounds.

Yuuri bows his head and pulls his hood farther up to try and protect himself, but it’s to no avail. The ink on the pages that he is holding streams down the paper and, realizing that he’d been too caught up in covering himself to cover his precious cargo, he shoves the pages inside his jacket and zips it up. They’re covered in images of a poodle with the words “FOUND POODLE” written in bold, black lettering, but as the water blurs the letters, they become less and less legible.

There goes all of the money he’d spent printing the posters.

He finds shelter underneath an awning outside of a cafe. He’s not far from home, but it feels like a failure to go home with a soaking wet jacket and posters and no progress having been made to find the lost poodle’s home.

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How About That Drink?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: sexual innuendo, mild violence (Sparring)

Word Count:  1097

Summary: Bucky’s your new sparring partner in your group training session

A/N: I don’t know how happy I am with this but I also wanted to get something posted for you guys…Feedback greatly appreciated !!


I smirked victoriously as I knocked Tony back down onto the floor for the third time, my knee braced against the middle of his back. He huffed in frustration, managing to turn himself around so he was looking up at me, a disgruntled expression on his face. I laughed, tapping my finger against the middle of his chest. 

“Come on, it’s like you aren’t trying at all.”

I pushed myself back to my feet, helping Tony to stand before lowering myself back down into a fighting stance, a smile playing across my lips. I loved the days where we all trained as a group, being able to use some of the pent up energy that the boxing bag just didn’t get rid of. Steve had us go over multiple techniques and fighting regimes but hand to hand combat - Like Natasha - was my forte.

“Remind me again why we’re all learning this?” Tony grumbled, stretching out his arms while looking at Steve. We’d been on the mat twenty minutes and while I’d knocked him on his ass a few times already, he hadn’t been able to land even his first hit on me.
“Well we don’t all have fancy metal suits to protect us,” Clint replied from the sidelines, Tony glaring in his direction.
“Aw Tony, I’ll go easy on you this time,” I jested. “I promise.”

He mumbled something under his breath before getting back on the mat, lowering himself down into the same stance I’d taken, his fists in front of him as he prepared for my attack. I licked my lips, sending him a quick wink before I launched forward, using his outstretched hands as a foot hold, wrapping my leg around his neck. I used my body weight to try and tip us forward, hoping that Tony would lose his balance but I was surprised when Tony leant back instead, toppling both of us onto the floor, his body on top of mine. I would have been annoyed over not being able to see that coming but the look of elation on Tony’s face was enough to send me into a fit of laughter.

“I did say I’d go easy on you I suppose,” I said as Tony helped me back to my feet.
“Easy? Pfft,” Tony scoffed. “You didn’t even see that coming.”
He ruffled my hair affectionately before stepping off the mats, grabbing his water bottle as he sat down. I turned back to Steve.
“Who am I going against now?”
“I’d go,” Clint joked from his seat. “But that just wouldn’t be fair on you y/n/n, wouldn’t want it to be an uneven fight.”
“Come show me what you got Barton,” I replied, cocking one of my eyebrows. “I’d have that smirk wiped off your face in seconds.”

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anonymous asked:

Hello my dear Ea. I hope you would consider expanding your fanfictions to the Six of Crows fandom. Your writing is the brainchild of Leigh Bardugo and Sarah J. Maas. Bardugo's dark, complex, heavy to Maas's intricate, ambiguous, and misted writing styles impregnate your own style. The Six of Crows fandom is very quiet, and I'd think you'd be the perfect one to help it rise up. The Dregs could use a Wraith-like writer like you.

Dear anon: I hope this lived to your expectations, as it has to mine. I need a major refresher on Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom, as they are one of the rare books I am currently not hoarding in my library. If you want to send me details and summaries of this fandom, I beg of you so I can focus more on other relationships and scenes, rather than this futuristic one. The offer extends to everyone as well. Thank you for the prompt idea.


He was starved. Not for the grains of sustenance, but for something much deeper. An elusive abstract thought that knocked quite concretely against his heart and roared in his mind. 

Crooked Crow

The sky was bleeding.

Not the clear droplets of the salted water churned over cycles of time through shifting, phasing forms—but the thick, crimson cursed and created lifeblood of the slowly deceased and tortured mutilated.

Kaz Brekker leaned against his cane, staring at the scarlet sea that had gathered near the port, swarming into the crashing of waves of the roaring ocean.

Behind him, his crew celebrated in their houses, the tinkering of the glasses clinking and whisper of shared laughs and easy smiles filling the sordid rooms. In front of him, the Bastard of the Barrel imagined the ghost of a ship reigned through the infested seas of crime, a congregation for the crooked.

It was that one ship that held a chipped crack of his heart. It was that one ship that crushed the crooked. It was that one ship that carried his one facet he needed to continue—other than greed.

The scent of the rotten bodies did not drive him from the pier when the thin thread of hope of the ship docking held him firmly. The lines of blood pooling around his shoes did not have him walking away, but rather rooted in position. The overhaul of loneliness chained him to the pier.

For living life of emptiness had satiated his brain, but never his soul. His desires, long suppressed, a facet of one of his oppressed for the cravings for more and more riches. For too long had his dream of bathing in golds and silver and diamonds and crystals been fulfilled, leaving the blowing wind’s whisper of what else could their possibly be?

Surmounting over challenges from Van Eck’s heist to infiltration the Ice Prison…the days of the impossible had been checked.

Except one impossible did escape from him. Right from his fingertips, and could have been captured by the words ripping from his mouth.

“I will have you without your armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.”

The sound of true elation, of his heart thrumming an answering beat—the source of hope and soothing had dissipated upon that sailing ship—a forged weapon to make a difference, to bring down slavers and the wrongdoers that had wronged her and her mandate.

He was fooling himself. He didn’t give a damn about the ship. He only cared about the captain of the ship.

Inej Ghafa.

The Wraith.

The only Suli he believed that existed.

A shadowed, nimble shape crossed through the dampened mist and polluted fog.

Air left his lungs, and the Bastard of the Barrel untucked a handkerchief out of his pocket.

The shape emerged through the blur, an avenging angel of darkness with a mission of lightness.

Stepping out of the puddles of red, the Bastard of the Barrel wiped away the liquid-ruby coating the edges of his shoes.

The shape crested the end of the dock, the sound of the engine hissing towards its final gasp of air.

Strolling towards the very edge, the Bastard of the Barrel welcomed The Wraith with a calculated charm emanating from his inked body.

The shape shuddered to a stop, the sound of the platform slamming into the port. Shouts of victory from the latest conquest filled his ears, but he filtered through each sound until he heard that mystic laughter he could drink on till his sorrows drowned away.

When the first feminine figure stalked down the ramp with a panther’s agile, Kaz Brekker welcome Inej Ghafa home.


“Your…your ankle is fine?” Kaz Brekker rasped out.

Inej slowly turned her head at the man who had never learned what it was to be a child, to become the master and monster of the darkness, and thrived on the cunning and feral side of nature’s vices.

“Only a scar.” She tilted her head, and curled her legs into the office’s balcony. “Another reminder.”

“Is he dead?”

“Six feet under, strung and gutted.”

A grim smile. “Good.”

Silence fell upon them, and Inej looked back out the window where the moon faintly shone her beams onto the ghastly settlements, sticks and woods and stones fortified as a testament to the already weak will to survive.

Footsteps crossed the threshold, and a towering figure stood next to her small yet sturdy frame. She blinked up into the grayish rays.

A hand touched the top of hers, and it took years of vigorous training and restrained silence to not jolt.

If she looked down at the cold skin touching hers, he would most likely withdraw. So Inej made the bold decision to lean her head against his chest, soaking in his presence that had filled her past and present, and perhaps her future.

Kaz seemed to be walking the same path as she, as he slipped down onto the balcony next to her, wrapping hesitant arms around her waist. Inej swore she could feel the saints smiling down on her as the male tucked her under his chin, nimble fingers stroking her hair.

They said nothing as they stared out into the tranquility of oblivion in which Inej could detect the traces of music.

“Is there a celebration?” she said almost accusingly.

The fingers against her hair stopped. “Is this not one?”

“Saints, Kaz,” Inej drew a breath. “I thought Jesper or Nina were avoiding me.”

A heartbeat later, Kaz’s fingers resumed their ministrations. “That’s not possible. To merely not want to have you—” He fumbled with the words, shifting his weight slightly. “You are my Saint, Inej Ghafa. And I am the King of the Dregs.”

“Not Wraith?”

Inej didn’t need to turn around see the crooked smile when she already knew the man who had risen from the darkest holes of penury and violence to form an invisible empire of loyalty and creed.

“Is there a Suli proverb preventing you from being both?” The coldness of his touches kissed her exposed skin, sending flickers of warmth to every pore.

“I don’t think Saints are killers, Kaz,” she mused.

Silence. Then:

“You removed my gloves, saw my sins, and revealed the fallen,” Kaz said, his voice sandpaper. “Not all Saints arose because of holiness.”

“Kaz Brekker, what are you saying?”

From the fringes of vision, he knew that he would not his fairytale with Brody. From yesterday’s excursion resulting in today’s bloodshed, he knew that he had his years long vengeance completed. From today’s knowledge, Pekka Rollin’s strung and gutted body meant a chance at what Nina had so often preached, what Jesper claimed he fought for.

Inej gasped as a flutter and storm of crows streamed from the office, a flurry of darkness and softness, feathers beating into the night. When the sullen atmosphere fell calm again, Kaz had set her on her feet, where the rest of the crew—Jesper, Nina, Matthias, and Wylan—stood at the door frame, empty cages hanging from their arms.

Nina’s sweet sound of laughter warmed the room, Matthias staring not at the fact Inej was in Kaz’s embrace, but at the Grisha’s face of elation and contentedness. As Jesper grinned at Wylan’s red face, Kaz leaned down to Inej’s ear, his lips brushing her skin.

“You are not just my Saint,” Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, whispered. “But my salvation.”

He Is Heaven

Request: “How bout some nice PASSIONATE sex with Kylo? Like you’ve been with him for a few months, but he’s always so distant and withdrawn, but with great understanding and patience from you, he’s now opening up more–especially in the bedroom where he’s able to convey his affections better physically rather than verbally. hell yeah hell yeah”

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 1940

Warnings: smut… 

A/n: I DIE FOR ROMANTIC KYLO AHHH SORRY BYE also wtf this turned really poetic-ish at the end but I’m kinda really digging it? Lemme know what you guys think! x

Originally posted by kylorenlovesme


Your hands slid across each other as you passed in the hallway. You frowned, turning back to the tall shrouded figure as your gripped a crumpled-up piece of paper in your hand. Kylo continued walking without peeking back to see your reaction. Under his menacing mask he wore a playful grin.

You unfolded the paper, wondering why it needed to be passed in secrecy. It wasn’t as if your relationship with the knight of Ren was being concealed from anyone, so you considered the act to be quite strange. The note was written messily, but your eyes flicked firstly to the wonky heart drawn at the bottom of the page. You then began to read.

(Y/n),

Please meet me at my quarters in 5 minutes. I have a surprise.

- Kylo

You couldn’t help but let out an excited giggle at the out-of-character note, clutching it to your heart as you twirled on your feet, heading straight for Kylo’s room. Once you arrived, you rocked on your heels impatiently. A familiar protocol droid then passed by the hallway, and you engaged in light conversation as you waited. A couple minutes passed as you spoke, then suddenly you were engulfed in large arms from behind, being picked up and spun around. You let out a surprised squeak, but once you realised it was Kylo who held you, you burst into a wide grin.

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Seokjin + 11 & 25

Anonymous said:  25 + 11 for Jin 

“This taste bitter.” / “Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?”

Originally posted by bwiseoks


His spoon takes the liquid from the bowl, pouting to blow softly on the boiling liquid. The room is so quiet you can hear the air whistling past his slightly damp lips, the plump curve shifting closer to the utensil.

You inhale a breath you didn’t even know you were holding as his mouth finally opens, allowing the liquid to slip past his lips. His expression is smooth, not a hint giving away his true feelings for the sample of your cooking he’d just tasted. He tilts his head in contemplation, cheeks puffing slightly as his eyes finally reach yours.

‘Seoooooookjiiiiiiiiiiiiin.,’ You complain, dragging out the syllables of his name with the quiet whine you knew annoyed him more than anything. Still, his face remains expressionless as his mouth rolls the soup around, testing his palette. ‘Oppaaaaaaaaaa.’ The word instantly causes a dangerous disharmony to settle on his face.

‘This tastes bitter.’ His nose scrunches after he swallows hard, eyebrows knitting together to show his displeasure.

‘What?…,’ You blink in disbelief at his comments. ‘It’s miyeokguk. It’s meant to taste bitter. It’s got seaweed in it.’

‘No. It’s meant to taste slightly salty… this tastes bitter.,’ He corrects, gaze shifting to the bowl in front of him as he absently stirs a spoon through the broth that had taken you so long to prepare. Specks of slimey green seaweed float to the surface, and the hunks of soft beef move around the liquid. ‘How long did you cook it for? And how much salt did you add? I thought you’d do better than this…’

‘Jesus.,’ Your fingers dig into the spoonclutched tightly in your hand. You’d expected some criticism, but nothing this rude. ‘Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?’ His eyes flick quietly to yours, pupils locking to fix your gaze. Immediately, you know it was a question you shouldn’t have asked.

‘You asked me to help you, so I’m helping you.’ He shrugs indifferently, but the harsh edge to his voice was what was betraying his true emotion.

‘I know…,’ You falter slightly with your words. It wasn’t often he became angry. Aside from the odd jesting rant animated by his babbling voice, you’d only seen Seokjin angry twice in your friendship. Once, when a guy at a bar was hitting on you too heavily for your comfort, and the other when you’d broken up with your boyfriend of a year because he’d cheated on you. And neither of those times he’d been mad at you. For him to be this standoffish, something must have been wrong. ‘It’s just… I tried really hard. It took me so long to make this soup.’

‘Not for me, though, right?,’ He shoots back, another spoonful of the liquid passing his lips despite his displeasure. ‘And it’s definitely bitter.’ He punctuates his sentence with a smack of his lips.

‘If you’re going to be rude, you don’t have to eat it.’ You snap, his harsh comments pushing you too far. You grasp the bowl and pull it towards you.The hot liquid spills out onto your hand, causing you to snap your hand away immediately and gasp. It was hot, causing an instant burning sting to slap across the back of your hand as it’s steam curled off you.  

‘Shit… Here, come here…’ Seokjin stands quickly, shifting to your side of the table in an instant to usher you towards the tap in the kitchen. Without protest, you follow him to the sink, allowing his arm to guide you, fingers rubbing reassuring against your shoulder.

The cool water of the tap soothes the sting instantly, Seokjin’s soft touch not leaving your shoulder as he rubs quietly against your skin.

‘You have to leave it under the water for 10 minutes.,’ He offers, the guilt evident in his voice. ‘It will help with the burn.’

‘It wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t being so rude.’ You argue, unable to stop the harsh tone that is creeping into your voice. Jin blinks back, his gaze meeting yours before shifting to settle awkwardly on your hand.

‘It wasn’t bitter.,’ He relents. ‘It wasn’t bitter at all… it tasted great. I was just jealous.’ His admission stumbles awkwardly from his lips, causing confusion to flood through you.

‘What are you talking about?,’ Your held tilts, shifting to observe him as your hand continues to be soothed by the smooth water slinking across your skin.

‘I was jealous. I know you weren’t making the soup for me. You were just practicing for your boyfriend…,’ He sighs. ‘I wanted you to be making the soup for me. I wanted you to be putting in effort for me. He doesn’t deserve it, Y/n.’

‘Jin…’ His admission has you pausing slightly, shifting away from his body pressed so closely against yours. Suddenly, his closeness was too much for you.

‘I like you. I’ve liked you for the longest time.’

‘Stop.’ Your voice is quiet, tone low as the weight of his words hit you.

‘Why? I’ve already started… I just… I’m… frustrated.’

‘Jin.,’ Louder this time, your voice claws from your throat with a new edge, the tone more definitive. ‘Don’t. You’re making me uncomfortable.’

‘It’s just… You’re always making him dinner, cooking for him, cleaning for him… It’s hard seeing you use him all the time…’

‘It was for you.,’ You interject in a desperate attempt to have him stop talking. ‘I was making it for you. Your birthday is in a week, and I wanted to have it perfect for you… to see the way you like it. It wasn’t for him… It was meant to be a surprise for you.’ His mouth hangs open, rounded in surprise. For a second, he stares blankly at you, mouth and eyes mirroring the complete shock he was feeling inside.

‘It was meant to be a surprise for me?,’ Eventually he echos your last statement, repeating it back to you as a question, the surprise not leaving his face. The only distinct change was the pink blush spidering over his cheeks, and the subtle curl of the corners of his lips. You nod, the expression on your face flat. ‘Fuck…’ His curse is punctuated with a shy chuckle, the upturn turning his pout into a full, unashamed smile.  

And it was then that you saw it. It was then that you understood how unappreciated you were in your current relationship, how much your boyfriend took from you but didn’t give. The pure joy on Seokjin’s face at only the thought of you doing something for him. The sweet blush deepening his cheeks showing his true appreciation. It was what you’d yearned to find when you went home every night, but never did. It was what caused a deep warmth to spider through your chest, moving upwards to cause an itch in your lips. A desire had taken over you, and you couldn’t resist.

Before you could stop yourself, you were closing the short distance between you, your mouth parting slightly in preparation for what you hadn’t even realised you’d wanted for the longest time. Your eyes locked onto his slightly damp lips, the pair you’d shared so many conversations with. You’d never noticed how plump they were, or how the shape fitted perfectly with the dimensions of his stunningly handsome face. Before you realised, you were feeling them against your own, standing on tiptoes to stretch upwards to meet him.

Seokjin’s hands instinctively reach to tuck your hair behind your ears before cupping your jaw, thumb stroking gently against your cheeks as he kisses you. The softness of his lips were warm against yours, the slight dampness of the soup he’d just consumed negating the sweetness you’d expected. His body shifts towards you, closing the space as his hips press forward into yours. And you don’t resist as his tongue makes an apperance, slotting between your lips to caress sweetly against your own. A muted moan slips past your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble from Seokjin. The vibrations startle you, shocking you and drawing you back to reality.

Within seconds, you’re grounded in reality again - pushing Seokjin’s chest in an attempt to break contact with him, shoving him towards the door despite the sharp sting of the still fresh burn.

‘I’m sorry… I have a boyfriend… I didn’t… That didn’t happen.’

‘Y/n…,’ Seokjin’s elation was evident as he pressed back against your touch, his light, high pitched laugh echoing happily as you walked him towards the door. ‘Y/n, it’s fine. Calm down.’

‘It’s not fine. You have to leave. I… I don’t know why I did that.,’ You ramble as the fight continues towards the door, playful on Seokjin’s part and seriously panicked on your own.

‘Okay… okay. I’m going. I’m leaving.,’ He agrees, the pressure easing off you. ‘One condition though… I get another kiss.,’ You stop dead in your tracks, gaze settling on the clear elation expressed on his face. ‘Look how much you’re blushing.’ He chuckles, finger reaching up to stroke your cheek. And before you realise it, your head has dipped and your mouth is curling into a shy smile. How you were going to resist him, you had no idea.

Loving All of You

For: Rina, @todoyamas

Pairings: KageHina

Rating: G

Summary: 1K words. Fluffy, warm, and tender AF. Kageyama has OCD; Hinata confesses and assures him he’ll always be by his side. Rina, I know how important this HC is to you and I was inspired by the post in which you talked about it. I hope I did your HC justice.

Read on Ao3

It was a windy, cloud-speckled day in early March, only a few weeks until the end of Kageyama and Hinata’s first year in Karasuno High School. To think they had met just a year earlier, grown as close as they had, cried together, struggled valiantly, and triumphed with a team that became like a family. It was quite frankly, unbelievable. With the 3rd years graduating soon and their moving up to 2nd year, everything felt like a blur—aside from one thing. One thing was perfectly clear to both of them.

“I like you romantically,” Hinata blurted, eyes meeting Kageyama’s and fingers grabbing desperately at tufts of grass. They were alone, sitting side by side under a sliver of sun on a grassy area behind the gym.

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triwiizard  asked:

i have a notion and it's lena teaching little stella how to play chess and it's entirely different from lena playing chess in her own house because there's so much laughter and casual teasing and stella uses her powers to cheat and then vehEMENTLY DENYING IT WHEN ASKED and maybe i'm just being extra

its so funny bc i’ve had a v similar notion sO LET ME YELL ABT IT SOME

  • stella is the only of the superbabies to show any interest in chess for more than a passing moment and is the only one to be able to sit still long enough for lena to teach her the game and lena’s like???  so excited when, one day when stella’s like four or five maybe, lena and kara are playing and stella nudges at lena’s arm until she moves it so she can crawl into her mom’s lap and she settles back against lena and studies the board with this v serious look and kara’s biting back a laugh until stella quietly requests show me mommy? and then kara’s softening and lena’s all but melting tbh like woah her kiddo want to play this game that lena loves a lot and she wants to learn??  she wants lena to teach her???
    • so lena goes out and gets this little children’s chess set the very next day, gets this set bc it has little labels on the board to indicate where each piece goes and it’s got this pretty mother of pearl inlay around the edge of the board, around the base of the pieces and lena knows stella will love it
    • they pick sunday afternoons for practice, lena lifting stella up to the big family calendar they keep in the kitchen so she can pick a day and put a little heart next to it.  so every sunday afternoon, right after stella’s napped for a bit, she bounces into lena’s study and watches v carefully as lena sets up the board, explaining what each piece is, what they do, where they go.  stella asks questions sometimes, but mostly she watches at first until she kind of gets an idea of what’s going on
    • but then when they get into the game??  hoo boy, stella is hilarious and pretty savage, like she’ll look at some move that lena’s made that she apparently doesnt approve of and will look up at her mother with this one raised eyebrow and sort of sigh really?  and it’s the cutest thing and lena cant help but laugh and stella’s rlly so sweet, she drops the look she’s giving her and starts laughing with lena and it will take them a fair few minutes to sort of reign it in
      • and omg as stella gets older??  she starts learning a few basic strategies, she does, but she’s still losing to lena basically every time (though every once in a while, lena throws it just because the look of elation on stella’s face is probably one of the brightest, purest things lena’s ever experienced) so she takes to poking holes in lena’s strategies, gently harassing her to try and get her off her game, but lena throws it right back at her, sort of narrowing her eyes and quirking an eyebrow when stella goes to move her knight when she has a pawn in perfect position and stella just sort of snorts, nods like yeah okay ya got me there
      • good god they laugh so so much during these games.  like they rlly do and lena is so so happy abt it like??  this is literally all she’s ever wanted, all she’s ever dreamed of for her kids.  they’re getting exactly what she never had, are able to feel safe enough that they poke fun at her like stella does when lena makes a careless mistake and leaves her king vulnerable (it’s not a mistake, it’s lena carefully working lessons into each of their games tbh, like she is nothing if not methodical)
        • an excerpt:
          • mom, oh my gosh, don’t you have, like, three advanced degrees?
          • don’t you have a move to make, stelly-bean?
            • and stella’ll groan at the nickname but she’s also grinning super wide, super bright and lena’s just??  basking in her happiness i guess
    • omg and when stella learns to read minds, it’s hilarious bc she’s not slick abt it.  like??  u can sort of feel her when she’s there, in ur head, like a little bump or nudge near the base of your skull, and lena thinks its hilarious that she’s trying that, that when she couldnt get a vibe for lena’s next move, she looked to lena’s mind and she sort of pokes a little fun at stella for it, asks we’re not cheating, are we? in such a gentle, teasing tone that has stella stammering, flushed, uh no of course not like why would you say that as i am perfect and have never done anything wrong in my entire life, ever
      • when stella gets older, she gets a lot better at reading ppl without them knowing, but kara and lena can always tell (mostly bc of that first psychic connection??  like they’re slightly more attuned to stella too) and so stella thinks she’s Rlly being Slick but lena sort of rolls her eyes and groans stella and its hilarious watching her daughter’s reaction, going from shock to worry to vague annoyance to out and out laughter as she tries to deny it, puts up a good fight before she’s reduced to giggles
        • like at some point its not even practice anymore, they just turn into weekly chess games, just for fun, just bc its calm and sweet and warm and when stella’s in college and Going Through Some Shit, it’s something to anchor her and lena loves that her daughter still likes the game, still likes spending time with her.  like??  they’ve only ever missed one sunday, bc stella had the flu, but that was made up for on tuesday when she felt better
  • and like??  chess sort of becomes this touchstone for them, like it always was for lena, but it also brought up some weird and painful things too, but now its just all good things, just stella and quiet sundays and laughing and messing up the board bc they needed to push the game to the side in order to set their ice cream bowls on the desk
    • like it sort of becomes a thing between them, like one mother’s day, stella gets lena this truly horrendous cat chess board bc she thought it was hilarious and lena laughs so hard she cries when she opens it (she still keeps it in her office though, next to one of her #1 Mom mugs and the pencil holder finn made in preschool
      • and then lena fires back with a fantasy inspired chess set for stella’s birthday, bc the dragon looks ridiculous and its just the thing stella loves to mock mercilessly
        • without fail, one of them always gets the other something chess related for any gift giving event.  one christmas, stella gets a purse shaped like a knight; on lena’s birthday one year, stella got her a set of bookends that looked like bishops, and so on and so forth
    • and then, to get ~emotional~, lena gifts stella her very own custom made chess set for her college graduation and stella treasures it for the rest of her life tbh, like it makes her feel warm and safe like she always did in her mom’s study, sunday afternoons, sipping tea between moves and laughing until her stomach hurts.  like ??  it’s just a tangible thing for all these good memories and honestly ???  im crying ????  

Have a little Lirry, because I of course can’t visit a zoo without getting some fanfic ideas (and when I say I’m going to be completely off tumblr for three days, people should never believe me).


.

“Harry, don’t you think we could-”

“Shh. It’s going to move.”

Liam very much doubted that sloth was going to move. It hadn’t moved in the (Liam looked down at his watch) twenty long minutes they’d been standing in front of the pen, staring at it. Possibly that sloth was dead and no one had noticed because it made no difference.

“Harry-”

“Liam, stop talking, you keep scaring it stiff.”

Liam took a deep breath, forcing himself to keep quiet. This was supposed to be a lovely day, and he wasn’t going to let his impatience (or rather Harry’s seemingly endless patience) ruin it. It was only half past two in the afternoon. There was still plenty of time, even if Harry refused to walk away from the aviary (why did a sloth end up in the aviary, Liam had no idea) until the sloth had done something.

Harry’d always had an affinity for the slow-paced creature. There was a reason Liam used the word as a term of endearment, after all, born out of many hours spent listening to Harry’s slow rambling stories, voice like treacle seeping into Liam’s bones and making him pleasantly sleepy. But Liam had never quite realized just how intent Harry was on befriending the actual animal.

“Sloths are creatures full of surprises,” he’d told Liam when they’d stopped in front of the pen, his grin so wide that Liam hadn’t minded waiting a bit to see if its occupant was going to move.

After two minutes, Liam had started looking around, waving to the little bright colored birds that were freely skipping about around them. After ten minutes he’d gently cleared his throat and stared at his watch in a way he hoped drove the point across. After fifteen minutes he’d finally dared speak up, but Harry had shushed him straight away, and every time since.

Some people would stop in front of the pen, take one glance at Harry’s intent look, and stick around for a few minutes, clearly under the misconception that something interesting was about to happen. They all left with slightly baffled looks on their faces, and Liam was getting tempted to just follow them and come back to pick Harry up at the end of the day.

Except he had something planned for this trip that really required Harry to be with him when it happened.

He looked at his watch again. They’d been there for going on thirty minutes now, and the giraffes’ pen was on the other side of the zoo.

“Haz, I think it’s sleeping,” he hazarded, keeping his voice low. Harry just raised a hand, still staring at the sloth as if he was hoping to make it move from sheer will alone.

Knowing Harry, it might just work.

Liam sighed, nervously patting his jeans pocket. There were still a lot of things to see before making it to the giraffes. At that rhythm, they’d never get there before closing time.

Maybe he should just do it here. Wait until the sloth finally moved, if it ever did, then get down on one knee and ask Harry to marry him.

But he’d wanted to do it in front of the giraffes because that was where he’d fallen in love with Harry, on a day out with the lads, watching Harry beam like a little kid in front of a baby giraffe, excitedly giving everyone all the facts about giraffes that anyone could have ever wanted to know.

“Do you realize that baby fell to the ground from 5 feet high when it was born?” he’d accusingly fired back at Louis when Louis had made fun of the giraffes’ gait, before stumbling three feet sideways and crashing straight into Liam’s side, seemingly for no reason at all except for the fact that Harry seemed amazingly maladjusted to standing on two legs. Louis had snorted the coke he was drinking out through his nose and Liam had focused hard on that - and Louis’s subsequent swearing - to avoid thinking about how nice it felt, having Harry plastered against him.

Harry had stayed in front of the giraffes so long that everyone had left him behind except for Liam, who’d admittedly been more enthralled by Harry’s profile than by anything that was happening in the pen.

“I knew you’d get it,” Harry had told him, wrapping an easy arm around Liam’s waist, blissfully unaware of the hammering of Liam’s heart behind his ribcage. “You always get me.”

He’d turned to look at Liam, all eager and youthful and impossibly beautiful, and Liam had leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips without even thinking, drawn to him as surely as a magnet to a fridge door (on which Liam later pinned the selfie he and Harry had taken that day, Liam grinning so hard you couldn’t see his eyes, Harry’s cheeks flushed from pleasure, both of them with lips pink-tinged from kissing).

“Harry, don’t you want to see the giraffes?” Liam whispered now, getting desperate. He really really wanted to do it there. And he really really didn’t want to lose his nerve. “I heard they’ve got a new baby…”

“But it was supposed to move,” Harry whined, gently tapping the cage’s wire with his open hand. “C’mon, slothy. I believe in you.”

“You should know better than to believe a sloth,” Liam teased. Harry’s hurt look took him aback. “Look we can pop by later on? Maybe it’ll be feeling more energetic then…”

“No, it had to be now. I thought it could - never mind.”

Harry looked really upset, which worried Liam in turn. This didn’t bode well for his marriage proposal. He wasn’t about to ask Harry for anything while Harry was reeling from sloth-induced sadness.

He coaxed Harry away from the pen and out of the aviary, trying to be extra jovial to make up for Harry’s forlorn sighs, but nothing seemed to cheer him up, not even the otters, who were rambunctiously playing in their pen and sliding down into their basin again and again.

“Look at that one,” he said, pointing to an otter who had pressed itself to the pen’s fence, small otter paw scrabbling for the wet twigs stuck on the other side of it, trying to drag them inside.

“It’s adorable,” Harry said absent-mindedly, hands stuck deep into his jacket pockets, leaving Liam feel strangely cut off; Harry was usually only too happy to hold his hand.

“Harry, have I done something wrong?” Liam finally asked, ready to go back to the aviary and spend the rest of the day there, if only it’d make Harry look a bit more like himself. “We can-”

“The sloth was supposed to move so you’d make a joke about how it reminded you of me and then I could ask you if you’d mind having your very own sloth till death do us part,” Harry blurted off, speaking faster than Liam had ever heard him speak before.

“I’m… what?”

Harry took his hands out of his pockets. He was clutching a tiny red box in one of them. He looked absolutely miserable. “I thought I’d take out the ring and ask for your hand, I thought it’d be nice to do it in front of the sloth pen,” he moaned, looking at the otters with a pout. “But that lazy bum wouldn’t move.”

Liam kept staring at Harry’s hand, or rather at the hints of red visible through his clenched fingers, heart beating so hard he could feel his pulse thrumming in his throat. “Harry,” he croaked out, before clearing his throat and trying again. “Harry… can I see that box?”

“No,” Harry very nearly wailed, slumping down against Liam, forehead pressed against Liam’s shoulder. “That stupid sloth ruined everything.”

“I really don’t think it ruined anything at all,” Liam said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible despite the whirlwind his brain seemed to be caught in. “Can you please let me look at the box?”

“No.”

“How about,” Liam said, reaching into his own pocket to get his own box out, “how about I trade you for it?” His box was black, but he was pretty sure its contents were identical to Harry’s.

“Trade what?” Harry mumbled into Liam’s jacket. Liam raised his hand palm up, the box in its center, right between their bodies where Harry would see it. He felt Harry tense up against him, then Harry raised his head, eyes wide.

“I wanted to do it in front of the giraffes’ pen,” Liam said with a small smile that grew bigger as Harry’s face went from surprised to elated… but then Harry’s face fell.

“Fuck. The giraffes was a much better idea. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I don’t know,” Liam said, feeling warm from the tip of his fingers down to his toes. He couldn’t stop grinning. “Maybe because the ‘where’ didn’t matter at all?”

“Maybe,” Harry nodded, before kissing Liam so hard he almost dropped his box.

The picture they pinned on their fridge that day had them both holding hands, rings catching the sun, three little brown heads peeking up on either side of them as the otters tried to get into the shot.

For their wedding they had their guests send donations to the zoo. It was the least they could do, really.

If I Met You Sooner

Pairing: Claire x reader, Dean, Cas, Sam

Word Count: 2046

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff, kissing 

Summary: CODA s10e20. You are Sam and Dean’s younger sister when Cas calls you into to help check up on Claire you quickly agree. You find yourself getting more caught up in the girl than the case. 

A/N: This is for day 5 of the Supernatural 30-day challenge, favorite female character. Mine has to be Claire, I know she isn’t super popular in the fandom. However, I think she is a good contrast to the people the Winchester’s typically saved because it shows just how difficult being a survivor can be. 

You watched as she rolled her eyes and played tough. In any other circumstance, it would have annoyed you, to watch someone who needed help so desperately shirk it off. This was different. It reminded you of the way you looked at your oldest brother when he gave you those familiar speeches. It wasn’t easy being the baby, but your heart felt heavy as you watched Claire. She was utterly alone, the only contact she had with the past was an angel that was busy running around in her dead father’s meat suit. You felt she probably had at least a little justification in her annoyance at being treated like some delicate flower, by the same people that had left her high and dry years ago.

In the restrained movements of her body, as she sat stiffly on the motel mattress, you saw the wall she had built around herself. There was a certain air to her that was all too similar to what you saw when you watched yourself in the mirror. The harshness, and disbelief in the kindness of strangers, that came through in every small motion. Losing people you love, having them ripped away, it isolated some part of you from every other average person.

You could relate to her.

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norationalthoughtrequired  asked:

shallura + 19 or 44!

things you said before you kissed me


She stood on her podium and watched as explosions ringed the command ship, and all she felt was light. Bursting with it, enough that Allura thought it might begin leaking out of her and fill the room and the entire universe.  But then, a horrible thought—Voltron had been close in, and though she would know

Allura keyed up her comm channel.  “Paladins!” she called out, but there was one voice she wanted, needed to hear—

We’re all here, Princess,” Shiro replied, tired but confident, and as Allura exhaled and sagged a little against the pillars her hands rested on.

“Come home,” she said. To all of them, but most of all to the speck limned in purple light that shot out ahead of the other four lions, making for the castle, making for home.

Allura abandoned the podium – Coran shouted a question but all she could remember was to tell him he had the bridge – and ran through the corridors.  They were more full now and she heard the tail ends of congratulations as she sprinted by, but she was too focused on her goal, on the big doors ahead of her that were rumbling open.  Allura slowed just at the foot of the stairs, panting, her heart racing.

The doors couldn’t open fast enough for him apparently because Shiro actually twisted his shoulders sideways to fit through the opening, the boots of his flight suit clattering on the stairs as he took them two at a time.

“Shiro!”

At the sound of her voice he looked up, slowing and finally coming to a stop a few steps away.  He was breathing hard, chest armor rising and falling.  The look on his face, the elation and the relief and—and something else, something she knew—

“Princess,” he breathed, pulling off his helmet, letting it hang from one hand.  Whatever was in his face it had made its way into his voice, too, and Allura’s fingers twitched.

“You’re back.”

Shiro opened his mouth, closed it, wet his lips.  “We did it,” he said, and the light within her burst free, and Allura grabbed his face and kissed him.

Shiro stiffened, surprised, but then he let his helmet fall to the floor and both his arms were around her, and even the theatrical gagging of the other paladins faded into the background hum of the universe.

send me a number and a ship/character/fandom and i’ll write something!

anonymous asked:

Sorry. I realized now I wrote 17. I meant 38. (“Please talk to me”)

So, here is the second one (since the prompt cited is the same one as in your first ask), this has been agony to write. I hope it will be more pleasant to read it … Thank you for sending me this!


Letting go

She tried to act normal, and if he hadn’t known her as well as he did he would probably have fallen for it, he had to give her that. She was excellent at pretending - they had all witnessed her leading the entire town of Alexandria by their collective noses with her soccer mom act right up to the moment when she had dropped it to save the sheep from the Wolves.

But he did know her as well as he did, so for him, falling for it was never an option. She was putting up a perfect front, but he saw right through it, saw the pain and the self-loathing and the conviction that she was a despicable human being - when he knew, right down to his bones, that all she did was never for her own gain but only ever to save or protect others, even if it cost her dearly.

That after all that had happened, after all the world had thrown at her, she would still never raise a hand against anyone in anger but only in self-defense, or in defense of others.

That she was motivated by compassion above all things, and that this was what was tearing her apart right now - compassion, and being forced by it to kill human beings, didn’t go well together.

Two weeks had passed since she had returned for the first fight and moved back into the house of her family that same day, into the room next to his. He could hear her crying herself to sleep every night, could hear her sighing every morning upon waking up as if the weight of the world were settling back on her shoulders - when all she had done was fight by their side so her family would survive the war against Negan.

And there was, of course, that one thing that she still hadn’t talked to him about, that wound she was still hiding from him, the one she had carried ever since her time with Tyreese and the two girls.

He felt that all of these things - having to kill again, facing the graves of her family both here and at Hilltop, and whatever it was that had happened to her on the road between the fall of the prison and their reunion at Terminus - were conspiring against her once more, harming her, hurting her.

Every day since she had decided to stay at Alexandria instead of returning to the Kingdom after the fight, he had seen her cooking, baking, tending to the tomatoes and beans and whatever, always keeping herself busy, always making sure that everyone else had whatever they wanted or needed - but never taking care of herself, never taking time to reflect, to grieve, to heal.

And the burden she was carrying, he saw, wasn’t getting lighter just because she was, again, choosing to ignore it.

He cornered her when she was coming in with a handful of small potatoes, grown on the patch behind the house, soil under her fingernails from carefully digging them out with her bare hands so as to avoid cutting them with any tools she might have used instead. She was pushing the door closed behind herself with one elbow, and just at that moment he moved out of the hallway, careful not to physically crowd her - he didn’t want to stress or intimidate her, after all.

As Carol looked up and met his eyes, he saw the sorrow and, strangely, guilt before she put her mask in place again, trying to hide behind it, as if they weren’t able to all but read each other’s minds.

Daryl held out his cupped hands and she automatically handed over the potatoes. Side by side, they walked down the hallway and to the kitchen where she washed her hands and he began to rub the soil off the potatoes and got out a peeler.

They worked in silence for long moments, but it wasn’t as comfortable as it once would have been. He felt the tension radiating off her, saw her stiffening whenever he inched closer to her while working, heard her breath hitching when he brushed her back with his forearm once as he leaned around her to reach for the towel.

Twice, he noticed her pausing in her work, her hands stilling, resting on the countertop for a moment, before she drew in a deep breath and continued dicing the onion on the cutting board in front of her.

She couldn’t go on like this, he knew. She had been on the verge of breaking in that house at the Kingdom, after staying away from her family for more than a week, and fighting again, even against murderers and rapists, would have her in a bad place again, blaming herself for everything that happened, even stuff that in no way whatsoever could possibly be her fault.

Putting his potato cubes into the pot sitting between them, he checked his fingers for potato peel and then, after finding them clean, he slowly and carefully reached out for her shoulder, wary of spooking her by touching her too suddenly. Carol froze instantly, but he didn’t pull back his hand. Instead, he gently took the knife out of her stiff fingers and then guided her through a turn on one foot, almost as if they were dancing.

She didn’t look at him, keeping her head down as if still concentrating on her onion.

“I know you still don’t wanna talk about what happened, I get it.”

His voice sounded loud in the quiet house. It was gravelly with disuse - he wasn’t speaking much to anyone. He noticed her breath catching for a moment when he spoke, but then she pressed her lips together and tried to appear unfazed again.

“‘m not much of a talker myself, so I know where you’re comin’ from. There’s stuff you don’t wanna share, stuff you can’t share.”

The vast landscape of all they had gone through, both before and after the apocalypse, opened up between them, countless hours days weeks months years of fear and panic, untold nightmares, tears and screams both held in and shared with an uncaring world.

Carol felt again the solace of Daryl sitting silently on the counter of the RV after they had “found” Sophia in Hershel’s barn, the only one to never offer platitudes over this greatest and most painful loss of her life, the only one to never judge her for grieving the way she had, and still was. If anyone could understand …

“Please.” His voice was barely a whisper now, the words felt more than heard. “Talk to me. Let it out. I’ll listen, just listen, I won’t tell anyone.”

For a few heartbeats longer, she held it in, held herself together against the wave of pain that had been building and building inside her ever since she had heard that devastating sentence - “Nobody will want you back there.” -, hoping to postpone this just a little longer, to pretend for a few more hours or days, but the look in his eyes was like a lance that went straight to her heart.

The pain surged, the wave crested and broke, and she let go of it with a sob that tore itself free from the deepest, darkest place within her, the place where she was hiding the things she no longer wanted to talk about, hear about, think about. The place where a girl’s hand was dripping with the blood of her kid sister. The place where her own trembling hand aimed a gun at the girl’s head from behind and then pulled the trigger.

Outwardly, there was no buildup. One moment she stood there, seemingly unmoved by what he’d said, unwilling to take his offer. The next, tears welled in her eyes and her lips began to quiver as she supported herself against the countertop with one hand, gasping in a lungful of air as if against a crushing pain in her chest. Her free hand came up to cover her mouth, fingers trembling, and she stood there, drowning in sorrow, consumed by guilt, all alone.

Unthinkingly, his hand on her shoulder pulled her in and he held her, cradled her against him, one arm around her back, one hand caressing her arm, her shoulders, her hand hanging limply by her side, his thumb gently stroking away the tears running down her face as she told him about Lizzie killing her younger sister while she had been away with Tyreese for just five minutes, just five minutes that had cost a little girl her life, had cost two little girls their lives, and it was all her fault, she hadn’t been there when Mika had needed her most, when Lizzie had needed help and support, and she had failed not just them but also their father who had trusted her enough to ask her to take care of them on his deathbed.

Horror settled into Daryl’s stomach as he listened to her describing Lizzie’s blood stained hand, the knife dangling from her fingers, the girl’s empty eyes clashing with the elation on her face as she had predicted her sister’s return as a walker that would no longer have to live in fear of this world. His heart broke for Carol as he imagined her trying to banter with Lizzie as they were looking for flowers to give to Mika when she “woke up”, trying to keep the girl calm and unafraid during her final moments before raising the gun and firing it.

He couldn’t imagine the guilt she had been feeling over this, or how she had managed to live with it all this time without any support, without anyone telling her that she hadn’t done anything wrong, that she had had no way of helping Lizzie and therefore had no choice, or they would all have did as well, Tyreese, Judith, herself.

Because she had believed, all this time, that she didn’t deserve help, that she was an unfeeling, uncaring, heartless monster and didn’t deserve to be forgiven for what she had done. That she had to shoulder this guilt alone, for the rest of her life, without anyone helping her carry it.

She was trembling against him, silent now, all her energy spent, and he could feel her tensing up again, bracing herself for him to push her away from him in disgust - for what else could he possibly feel after this?

“’m sorry,” he whispered, voice shaking. He tried to imagine having to shoot a mentally ill child that was a danger to herself and everyone around her, but his mind balked. The very idea was horrifying - and she’d had to do it, and live with it.

His shirt was wet where Carol was leaning into him, and he was surprised when he felt tears on his own face as well - he didn’t know when he’d started crying. He kept holding her, one hand stroking her back very gently so she would feel him being near her, and know that he was not going anywhere because of her confession.

“How could I … He trusted me to keep them safe!” Her voice hitched on the final word, and her shoulders began to shake again under his hands.

“Was nothin’ you coulda done, there’s no help for that kinda thing anymore.” Dinner forgotten, he led her to the kitchen table and helped her sit down. She was trembling like a leaf now, maybe expecting to be thrown out again, abandoned, told that nobody would want her here. Smoothing her sweaty hair back from her face, he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Did what you could, what you had to, to keep the rest of ya safe, keep Judith safe. You did nothin’ wrong.”

Tentatively, since he had never done anything like this before, his hand went down to pick up hers, resting in her lap, still wet with her tears, and pulled it up until he could breathe a kiss onto the hand that had held the gun and shot a little girl, both acknowledging what she had done and reaffirming his love for her despite what had happened.

“Ya saved three lives by takin’ one, and I’m glad you did.”

His kiss felt unreal to Carol, as did the sense of weightlessness growing inside her since she had told him about Lizzie - no, since she had decided to tell him when the pain of it all had overwhelmed her. Surely he couldn’t be serious - surely he believed that she had failed those two girls, just like she had failed her own?

But his hands were moving to her shoulders now, finding the knotted muscles there, and he carefully started to massage the tension of months of guilt and sorrow out of her, his body heat soaking into her clammy skin and her rock hard muscles, trying not to hurt her as his thumbs stroked out the kinks in her back and his hands found opportunities again and again to just caress her.

Every single touch, every movement was meant to reassure her, comfort her, and his unconditional love for her flooded the emptiness she had been carrying inside her all this time, filling her, giving back all the things she had believed she didn’t deserve anymore. Friendship, support, love.

After everything, Daryl still loved her.

She leaned back into him and closed her eyes, at peace.

#Caryl

#Caryl fan fiction

#Daryl Dixon

#Carol Peletier

#LD writes fan fiction

#❤️

Oral Exam

Summary: Dan shows off his oral skills.

Warning: Blowjob, Dirty Talk, teacher!Phil, student!Dan

Word Count: 1,372

A/N: Everyone in this story is of legal age. Still, don’t shag your teachers kids.

I just want to say thanks to @sarcellesonja, @har-maguedon, and everyone else who helped me fix this fic. Thanks for the help. Loves!

I wrote a fic similar to this one, but with teacher!Dan and student!Phil. You can find it here.


Ao3

Fanfic Masterlist


Phil sits behind his desk. His classroom sits empty. He glances up at the clock. He takes a deep breath and attempts to focus on the papers sitting in front of him. The door will open soon and Phil isn’t sure he’s ready.

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