eldest and only

I’m kind of wondering if it’s possible Bridgitte is one of Torb’s kids, a la that Uprising spray of the two of them posing together. I know it’s totally possible Torb just took her under his wing because she’s an engineer/mechanic and he wants to encourage that in the youth and all, but outside of maintaining Reinhardt’s armour we’ve only seen her at Torb’s place for Christmas with all his kids and posing for a polaroid in that spray with him. 

It’s totally possible Torb was like “hey my eldest daughter you’re the only one I trust to maintain my best bro’s armour and also play Sancho to his mildly senile and brain damaged Don Quixote.”

Dating Jonathan Byers Would Include


  • Photos. Let’s just get this out of the way here and now.
    • Photos of you, photos of the two of you, photos of you with his family –
    • According to Jonathan, there can never be enough photos of you
      • Well, he never outright says it, but you can assume such from his actions
    • Depending on how you are with getting your photos taken, there can be a mix of what kinds of pictures of you Jonathan has an abundance of
    • If you enjoy it, you model and pose quite a lot. There’s plenty of goofy pictures of you that were done to make him laugh
    • If you detest it, he tries to respect your wishes. Honestly, he does. But sometimes you just look so beautiful and natural and that profile of yours looks so right in this lighting and just –
      • *click* “… Did you just take a picture of me?” “I’m sorry..!!”
  • Meeting *because* of said profile looking great in lighting
    • You were honestly probably just getting some reading done while walking to your car/the bus/however you get to and from school. Jonathan happened to look your way, saw you, and became incredibly smitten
    • Normally he’d just take the picture he wanted with or without the subject’s awareness and move on with his day. With you, however… He felt different about doing that. Almost ashamed in himself if he did it without your awareness, or even permission
    • Nancy looks in the direction Jonathan has been staring at for nearly an entire minute and immediately knows what’s going on, suggesting that Jonathan just go talk you
    • Of course, Precious Picture-Taker™ is too shy to do it, so Nancy tries another route: Gently pushing him towards you until he’s about halfway to where you are
    • He was about to give up and walk away but you looked back at him just before he could. Poor soul froze and could feel his heart beating so fast it felt like it was encased in ice. Meanwhile, his face was growing warmer by the second
  • Jonathan was incredibly tongue-tied when you asked if you could help him. Nancy had to step in and say he was doing a senior project for photography and that you seemed to fit the criteria he’d told her about
    • His face said “What?”, his eyes said “Panic!”, but his heart said “Thank you, St. Nancy.”
      • After you two became a couple, you would occasionally tease him about how shy and cute he was being over “little ole you”
  • Him making you breakfast
    • It’s already a part of his regular routine, so if you spend the night at the Byer household or arrive there in the morning on the weekends or even school day, you can trust that there will be a fourth plate laid out and stacked with food for you
    • If he goes to pick you up in the morning to go to school, he packs you a bag with a breakfast burrito or breakfast sandwich
  • Being involved in a two-headed mother hen of a relationship
    • You’re protective of your lanky prince, always trying to get him to sleep more, making sure he’s dressed warmly in winter when he goes out to take pictures
      • You’ve stood up to many bullies and unsavory people on his behalf, much to his dismay (and much to his poor heart’s horror)
      • This includes his father, whom we will discuss later
    • Jonathan, however, is virtually the same with you. In fact, he might even be even more of a mother hen!
      • If you’re begging him to put on gloves and a scarf, he’s darn-well making certain that you’re doing exactly that – even when it’s not that cold out
        • God help you if you sneeze …
      • He carries a mini first-aid kit in the glove box of his car not long after you two begin dating, which he’s glad to have done after you once got a splinter during a walk
      • You’re pretty sure he just plain likes feeding you because even beyond packing you breakfasts (which he makes because he thinks you aren’t being healthy enough), he’s always offering you snacks or has some on standby
      • Jonathan isn’t a confrontational person, but he will throw fists if somebody speaks ill of you
        • (To be honest, as upset as it makes you to see him hurt, you need to admit that there’s something attractive about seeing him get animalistic
      • Clarification: Jonathan is definitely the bigger mother hen
  • Developing a big sis-type relationship with Will and his friends
    • You learn a bit about Dungeons and Dragons for his sake before realizing it’s pretty fun. You want to join the group at some point, and agree to do so after Mike’s current campaign is over so that you don’t feel like you’re intruding
    • You inherently become protective of Will and make it your vow to mess up anyone who dares mess with him
      • Jonathan quietly appreciates this
  • Joyce adoring you and always ready to save a spot for you at the dinner table. The Byers household ultimately becomes your home away from home
    • She’s just so happy that her eldest son not only has a significant other, but one who treats him properly and embraces his oft ridiculed characteristics
    • (However, if you spend the night or anything, she still would prefer his bedroom door stay open. Just an involved mother’s preference)
    • She always makes sure you go home with a plate of something
      • Since Jonathan is the photographer, there aren’t too many photos with which she can embarrass him with – doesn’t mean that there aren’t any at all, though
  • The first time you meet Jonathan and Will’s deadbeat father, you try to hold your tongue. However, the keyword here is “try” because you ultimately failed
    • The moment that bastard uttered a single word about Joyce and/or her boys, you were hot as a studio light
    • You were cussing and screaming and calling out as though you were getting paid for it, growing hot in the face
    • Meanwhile, Jonathan stood there for a few moments, completely gobsmacked: Even when faced with ridicule back in Hawkins, he’d never seen you so pissed
      • When he finally comes back to reality, however, his instincts kick in and he gently ushers you away.
      • He can’t tell why his face is red: It’s not embarrassment, he decides, but maybe it’s a little closer to shock, pride, and … excitement?
  • Double dates with Nancy and Steve
  • Nobody telling you about the Upside Down or anything that happened until at least a year into the relationship
    • You’re not exactly upset that such information was withheld. How could you be when you’re too busy being horrified at the trauma everyone has surely gone through
    • As a result, you become a lot more affectionate towards Jonathan, always nervous that somewhere deep down he’s still very much frightened over his experiences. Speaking of affection, though …
  • PDA being a very quiet, tame thing between you two
    • Jonathan, being the closed off person that he is, isn’t necessarily going out of his way to show PDA in the way that most of your peers are.
    • At most, he’ll peck you on the lips or hold your hand. But in every peck and every hand-holding moment, you can feel the growing love he has for you, never allowing you to doubt his intentions even once
  • In private, Jonathan still exhibits slight hesitancy to show bigger, more emphasized forms of affection towards you, often fidgeting when you two are sitting together and watching a movie
    • He may need some encouragement or a clear sentence where you consent to him wrapping an arm around your shoulders
    • Once you get him cuddling, though, Jonny’s as comfy as a kitten in a sun spot.
      • Nothing will stop him from nuzzling you and quietly sighing with content
      • The boy loves neck kisses, giving or receiving. He won’t do the former as often due to his shyness, however. But you rarely let this stop you from placing a quick peck on his own neck to receive a slight shutter or him turning his blushing face elsewhere
  • Jonathan can’t help but feel like any nickname he gives you sounds awkward falling from his mouth.
    • At most, he’ll call you “sweetie” or “honey” but he often winds up sounding so unsure or clumsy about it that you can’t help but giggle about it
    • You, however, go nuts with naming him things and he doesn’t seem to mind: Jon-Jon, Jonny, Jon Boy, Jo-Jo, Baby, My Tired Puppy, Jon-Bon, Stieglitz, Picture Perfect, etc. (After 1983, you begin referring to him as Jon Bon Jovi sometimes)
  • Blasting The Clash from his room when you’re over or when it comes on the radio in the car
  • Jonathan becoming so used to your bizarre comments and conversation topics that he’s barely phased by them anymore
    • He plays along with them, even offering genuine input when you ask for it
    • He never wants you to feel like you’re too strange or your thoughts are invalid – he knows that feeling all too well and would never wish that on anyone he cares about
    • As such, he invests himself into every conversation you have, even if he may not have any real thoughts on the subject matter. But if it’s important to you, then he at least needs to make an effort
  • Helping him prepare his portfolio for his NYU application
    • Jonathan was honestly a little nervous about telling you that his dream school was NYU – most wouldn’t imagine a shy, quiet guy from a town like Hawkins to be able to make it out of the neighboring cities, let alone to such a prestigious school in a big city.
    • His little heart did an entire gymnastics routine of shock and complete glee when, after he told you, you gained expression on your face and told him that you needed to start immediately to create the perfect portfolio
    • In the end, a great portion of the photos wind up including you in them or some aspect of you or something Jonathan later admits he finds symbolic of you
    • You want to ask him why, but you kind of already know: You’re his muse, simple as that
  • Enjoying just that: Life with Jonathan (when it’s not involving the Upside Down or whatever else is out there) is simple.
    • Not in a bad way, but in a sweet way, the kind of way that makes you think of cute diner dates on Friday evenings, walks for ideas for photos on Saturdays, baked pies for Sunday dinners.
    • The sweet feeling of holding hands as you walk down Main Street, making idle chitchat
    • Life with Jonathan feels like you’re eternally wrapped in one of his sweaters – which, much of the time, is plenty true
  • Always being so proud of him and knowing that you two are a team, be it for fighting against the supernatural odds, or for fighting against the more difficult parts of reality
    • He’s your weary-eyed prince, you’re his knuckle-bearing, fire-tongued princess
First Kiss (Older!Damian Wayne x Reader)


Older damian wayne x female reader would be awesome. Your choice of topic. Thx :D

Can you do an older (18-20 yr old) first kiss with Damian and can you make it sweet and fluffy?

Notes: My first imagine!!! It took me longer to edit and have enough inspiration to finish it but it’s finally here :-). Also I changed the second request a lil bit, Damian is probably 15-16 here

Warnings: None

You guys had been friends for enough time for Damian to realize that what he felt for you wasn’t simple tolerance.

Oh no. Everyone could see it and it made him wish he could murder all his brothers in their sleep. That technically he could, but not without getting a really long lecture from Alfred or something.

The whole family was excited to meet the girl that made the demon blush and smile, even Bruce. So when they found out you were coming over to the manor to work on an English project, there was nothing he could do.

Damian tried to cancel or set it up somewhere else but you weren’t having none of it. After the mess you were raised in, how bad could his family honestly be?

The thought of Damian just being ashamed of introducing his new poor friend to his wealthy famous family crossed your mind but he assured you several times that he was ashamed of his family, not you.

He talked to you about his father, who you were already intimidated by. Her eldest brother, Dick, apparently the only decent sibling he had according to him. The one who followed, Jason, the black sheep of the family with a terrible common sense. Tim, the one he hated the most for some reason. And Alfred, the butler.

A butler… you weren’t even sure you currently had milk.

You had seen the old british man a couple of times when he picked up Damian from school but he never let you get close enough to introduce yourself, so this was gonna be new.

The atmosphere in the limo was more awkward than you expected.

Alfred said a polite “Good morning, miss Y/L/N. I’ve heard a lot about you, it’s nice to finally meet you” that was received with Damian watching him cautiously.

During the ride, you could notice Damian avoided eye contact by looking out the window. His jaw was clenched and brows slightly furrowed.

This change might have gone unnoticed by someone who hadn’t gotten to know Damian’s mannerisms as well as you through all these months.

You reached for one of his hands and covered it with yours, gently squeezing it. “It’s gonna be fine, Dami. Quit worrying that much.”

Once you arrived at the manor, Damian started walking in front of instinctively as if protecting you from something. It didn’t take long to realize what it was.

You had to admit you hadn’t given much thought to what could be expecting you at the Wayne Manor, but this still startled you.

Questions like “Are you friends with him because of the fame and money?”, “Did he hire you?”, “Is he threatening you? Blink twice for yes, once for no”, “Are you some kind of witch?”, “Do you owe him a favor?” were being thrown all around.

Damian tried to get you as away from his brothers as possible, his face was red with rage and embarrassment and he kept yelling at everyone to leave you alone. Finally, he managed to escape and pulled you toward an empty garden.

When he made sure no one was following you, he turned around biting the inside of his lip.

“I’m sorry for that, Y/N.”

Damian wasn’t sure if you were gonna stay quiet, change the topic or leave. But he was greatly surprised when you opened your mouth and let out a whole-heartedly laugh that made his heart swell.

“Well, I can’t say you didn’t warn me.” You joked.

“I promise I’ll make sure they never look in your direction again or else–” He started, getting more furious with every second.

“Damian! It’s fine, really.” You put both your hands over each of his shoulders, causing his muscles to tense, and shot a calming look his way. “I love them, your family is great.”

The Wayne boy softly shrugged your touch off and crossed his arms. “They are nothing but an inconvenience.”

“An inconvenience you love.” You commented, swiftly glancing at him and then looking at the beautiful growing trees that you were sure only Alfred took care of.

-TT- Whatever.”

After some minutes in a comfortable silence, just observing the beautiful plants, flowers and sunny sky. You decided to sit on the grass, against the prettiest tree you could spot.

“Maybe we could do our project here?”

He followed you and sat beside you, nodding as you started to unpack your bag.

“Thank you, by the way.” You murmured, unsure.

Damian examined you with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“For bringing me here, introducing me to your family… For being my friend, I guess.” You smiled shyly at him, shrugging and looking down at your lap, trying not to let him notice your face was probably boiling.

You hated the way Damian could make you feel, but you were also enchanted by it.

“Of course, Y/N. But I should be the one thanking you, you’ve helped me in ways I wish I could share with you.” Damian confessed, thinking back of all those times a text from you was enough to calm him down and seeing your smile would make all his frustrations go away.

You chuckled sweetly. “I don’t see how that’s possible but you are welcome.” And there it was, that warm and innocent grin that could light up his entire world in just one second.

None of you had realized how much time you spent looking into each other’s eyes, none of you was counting. But you could recall catching a glimpse of Damian glancing at your lips as you unconsciously licked the lower one.

It happened fast, but slow at the same time. Your breath halted due to the nervousness of Damian’s face approaching yours, but you could also experience the shock when you felt his lips on yours.

For a first kiss, there was nothing gross or awkward about it. His lips could look rough and chapped most of the time but you were gladly surprised to discover that they were actually really soft and sweet.

The kiss lasted for only a few seconds and soon you were pulling apart. You didn’t know where to look at but it was clearly pointless to try to hide your blushing anymore. Your mouth started to generate some small giggles and you had to stop before you punched yourself in the face.

Well if the kiss wasn’t awkward, the after-kiss would surely be.

Once you dared to look at Damian, you were surprised to learn that he wasn’t staring at you, he was staring at something behind you. You followed his gaze only to see a pair of heads and eyes through the bushes of the garden.

Realizing you had seen what he did, his expression turned more mortified than pissed off and he quickly stood up, taking steps towards his eldest brothers.

Your palm hit your mouth to muffle the loud laughing that was coming out of you as your eyes followed your crush chasing after his brothers who were calling out Alfred’s name.

Boy, you were gonna enjoy being part of this family.

Marie Thérèse Charlotte (19 December 1778 - 19 October 1851), the eldest daughter and only surviving child of Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette, passed away only three days after the 58th anniversary of her mother’s execution. 


On this day in history, August 12th, two thousand and forty seven years ago, Cleopatra VII, the last active ruler of Ancient Egypt, committed suicide.

Eleven days previously, her husband Marc Antony had already done the same. The couple had been engaged in a civil war against Octavian, the great nephew of Julius Caesar who had been declared his legal heir. During the final battle in Alexandria, Antony suffered serious desertions among his troops and lost the fight. Upon his return, he falsely heard Cleopatra had killed herself and fell on his sword.

After Antony’s death, Octavian arrived in Egypt and effectively took Cleopatra and her children by Antony prisoner. She had sent her eldest son Caesarion, her only living child with Caesar, away for his own safety. She knew that Octavian planned for her to march in chains behind his chariot during his triumph parade, and would very likely have her killed afterwards. Rather than suffer such humiliations and indignity, she chose to take her own life.

Popular history and mythology leads us to believe that she was killed by inducing an asp to bite her, after having locked herself in her mausoleum with her two handmaidens. However, many modern scholars believe that she instead took a mixture of poisons, since the venom of an asp does not cause a quick or painless death. Octavian and his men found her too late to do anything, Cleopatra was already dead and one handmaiden, Iras, was nearly dead on the floor. The second, Charmian, was straightening the Queen’s diadem. According to legend, one of the men asked if this was well done of her mistress, and she shot back “Very well done, as befitting the descendant of so many noble Kings.”

Upon her death, Octavian honoured her wish to be buried in her mausoleum at Antony’s side. He took her children with Antony, the twins Cleopatra Selene and Alexander Helios, along with their younger brother, Ptolemy Philadelphus, to Rome with him as prisoners of sorts. They were fated to march in his triumph parade in their mother’s place, the chains so heavy they could hardly walk. After this they were given to Octavian’s sister Octavia, who had been Antony’s third wife, to look after.

Cleopatra’s son with Caesar, Caesarion, was nominally sole ruler of Egypt after his mother’s death. Eleven days after her suicide, he was found after being lured back to Alexandria under false pretences of being allowed to rule in his mother’s place. Octavian ordered his murder, on advice that “Two Caesar were too many.”

With Cleopatra’s death, and Caesarion’s subsequent murder, the rule of the Ptolemaic Dynasty came to an end and Egypt became a mere Roman Province

Lines of Love and War

Here is the first chapter of the Mulan inspired Nessian fic! It takes place in the ACOTAR realm, but with slight variations to fit the storyline. Nesta meets with the town’s matchmaker and discovers that her potential husband is tied in with a war that is about to unfold against Hybern. It is up to Nesta to join the ranks of fae and human alike to save not only her sister, but all of Prythian. 

Lines of Love and War : Chapter 1

The twittering of maids about the drawing room put Nesta in a state of disinterest that shifted to annoyance. One of the maids was brushing her hair in an attempt to control the golden brown locks. The regal and untamable air Nesta held about her made many compare her to a lioness with a personality to match as well.

A sharp tug of the brush made Nesta almost emit a snarl. Her inner wildcat itched to be free from this conventional ritual of preparing her for a visit to the town’s matchmaker.

The very thought of it made Nesta sick with worry. Not because she was anxious that she wouldn’t find a match. No, she feared that the matchmaker would pair her with one of the men in town.

More like savage brutes. Nesta thought as she glared at herself in the mirror.

Her makeup was done in an attempt to make her look more warm and welcoming. Nesta almost laughed at the maid’s efforts. No amount of makeup could ever take away her cold and serious demeanor. Her blue-grey eyes were a brewing storm beneath rose gold eye shadow and a thin line of kohl.

The makeup was better suited for sweet Elain. Of course all this primping and glamouring was all for the sake of her little sister. Nesta had already lost one sister. She couldn’t bear to lose Elain either. If Nesta could secure a marriage then Elain would be free to not be forced into one.

“It is time,” Mrs. Laurent said. The older woman stood waiting in the doorway with Elain looking on with a smile lighting her face.

“You look so beautiful Nesta!” Elain took in the efforts that the maids put forth.

Nesta stood from her chair. A queen rising from a throne. Her lavender gown trailed the floorboards with sheer folds that resembled smoke following her every step. Her hair was undone except for a few intricate braids that were pulled up to resemble a bun.

“There’s just one thing missing,” Elain trailed off and brought forth a gold bracelet inlaid with one small diamond. It was their mother’s bracelet. Elain delicately slipped the bracelet on her elder sister’s wrist.

It felt like a shackle to Nesta. The thin gold band mocked her in the gleaming morning light that streamed in the window. It seemed as though Nesta would be forever caged to duty and suffocation of the customs expected of her.

“Thank you Elain,” Nesta murmured for what else could she offer her sister. Her slight breathless tone not caused by awe of the gift, but by how tight her corset fitted her body. Still Elain’s actions were good in intent. Nesta could not fault her sister in that regard.

“Let’s not dally any longer,” Mrs. Laurent broke in rather abruptly. “We must head to town immediately. With any luck you will be matched with a husband by the end of the day.”

As they walked out the doorway Nesta heard one of the maids whisper that they had all better pray to the gods if they ever hoped that Nesta Archeron would tempt a husband.

Nesta held back a string of words. She was not one to take gossip and insults at face value. So long as the people she loved most truly understood her, then that was all that mattered. And Nesta could not care less for meddling maids.

Nesta, Elain and Mrs. Laurent boarded a carriage that took them to the matchmaker’s home. Nesta stepped out of the carriage with a ceremonial candle that must remain lit during the procession ladies conducted outside of the matchmaker’s home.

It was ridiculous in Nesta’s mind how a woman seeking a match would have to wait another month if her candle flickered out during the turn about the property. A gust of wind could blow out the flame as anyone walked the path leading to the doors of the home.

She was half tempted to blow out the candle herself, but after having done so three times already in the previous ceremonies was starting to bring shame to her family. If she couldn’t even handle keeping a tiny flame from going out how was she to be expected to take care of a husband and household? 

Townspeople already spread rumors about Nesta. She couldn’t care less, but then those rumors turned toward her family. That was the moment when Nesta decided to see this day through without a problem. Or at the very least try. Still she felt that she was going to need a lot more assistance to get through this day that would test her patience.

Gods hear my plea. Nesta thought silently. I ask only one thing. Please protect my family. Whether it’s at the cost of my happiness or my chance to be free.

She would give anything so long as her family was safe. No matter the price she would pay it.

And so it began. Nesta followed a line of girls making her the fifth and last to walk down the cobbled path toward their destination. The townspeople followed not far behind. Elain and Mrs. Laurent watched from within the crowd with their hopes set high for a good match for the eldest Archeron sister.

Elain could only hope that her sister found a suitable partner that would truly love Nesta.

The flame of Nesta’s candle danced as she treaded down the stones. It was amusing to watch. It seemingly begged for attention and its small warmth was the only comfort on Nesta’s walk. Her lips revealed the smallest of smiles at the small glowing fire.

Too soon the group arrived at the doors of the matchmaker. They kneeled on the small colorful rugs laid out for them so that their dresses would not get dirty. No sooner had they reached the ground the doors clamored opened revealing a woman holding a notebook and quill pen.

“Nesta Archeron,” The matchmaker called with her quill poised on paper.

Nesta rose and in a neutral tone announced her presence.

The matchmaker made a noise of disappointment and marked something in the notebook. “Speaking without permission…”

Annoyance flared in Nesta as she trudged up the steps to follow the matchmaker inside. The doors banged shut behind her.

“Have a seat,” the woman directed to a small table with two chairs and tea set.

Nesta sat down in front of the matchmaker and placed the still lit candle on the table. She found her gaze occasionally straying to the flame during the questions and tasks that the matchmaker asked her.

Pour the tea. Speak only when first spoken too. Use a demure tone of voice.

The matchmaker paused in making her notes after drinking a bit of tea Nesta had poured for her. From the disappointed look on the matchmaker’s face Nesta could only assume that her marks were not satisfactory.

“Let us presume with the readings,” the matchmaker unfurled Nesta’s birth chart with circles, numbers and symbols. Her fingers began skimming the paper. Pausing on certain marks and making notes to the side of the paper.

Nesta watched intently. She wondered how a suitable partner could be found with such charts. Apparently readers could determine many things based on these symbols and overlapping patterns that Nesta could not understand.

“Oh my…” the reader stopped and looked back and forth between three symbols.

“Am I to forever be a spinster,” Nesta joked lazily. “Or maybe it says I am to meet my end while walking down the steps to my home.”

The matchmaker looked up at Nesta. Panic seizing her eyes before blinking to contain her concern.

“Your chart mostly consists of lines that overlap so closely together that they almost form one joined path, which itself is quite rare. Those lines denote inner power of control and the ability to shroud your intentions, but they are such thick lines that it represents a vast amount of strength.”

Nesta didn’t say anything. Many knew she was closed off and was not a person who formed many friendships. Still…the woman’s claim was too close to the truth. The truth that she and her sisters descended from a mother who was fae. And that Nesta’s ability did involve a form of a mental shroud from those who would seek to read her thoughts or alter her perception of the mind.

The matchmaker paused. “Your family line meets with two lines…one of love and the other of war…and those two lines actually brush against each other.” She pointed at the pink and red lines that did indeed touch, but never crossed.

“They are not overlapping yet they still connect,” the matchmaker explained a bit perplexed. “This means that you will meet your husband due to some event related to your family from some sort of battle. Whether that be internal or external is impossible to decide.”

“So that means my husband is a soldier perhaps?” Nesta quirked a brow. There was talk of an impending war. The fae and human lands knew that Hybern was becoming a threat they could no longer dismiss. Maybe a regiment would come through town and Nesta would be proposed to by some poor soul who was going to war to face monsters that could only be dreamed up in nightmares.

“Your line of love and war directly connects your birth sign with a sign across the chart,” the matchmaker pointed out Nesta’s swirl shaped birth symbol linked with one resembled a sun with a dot in the middle. “That sign,” the matchmaker tapped the sun, “is your…significant other.”

On the table the candle’s flame flared brightly and swayed back and forth excitedly. Yet no wind stirred in the home.

Nesta and the matchmaker watched the flame in awe and shock. Nesta personally felt spell bounded by the display. Too soon the flame calmed, but the smell of earth, sweat and spice filled the air. Distantly Nesta thought she heard a clang of metal along with a deep laugh.

“Strange,” muttered the matchmaker toward the flame. “Although this would make sense considering your potential husband is a fire sign.”

“Great,” Nesta said sarcastically. “That means he’s more than likely loud, rambunctious and out of control.”

The matchmaker shrugged slightly as if it wasn’t her problem before turning back to the chart. “There is another line though that grabs my attention.”

“You say it as if it means something terrible,” Nesta pointed out the nervous halting words the matchmaker spoke.

“That is because I see that your line of death crosses the ones of war and love,” the matchmaker admitted cautiously. “And it is tethered between the start of your war and love lines leading through the section of ascendance and between two birth symbols.”

“Which means?” Nesta implored.

“Death can mean many things beside the literal term, but either way your path to it starts the same time that you will begin the path of love and war. With it running into the ascendance that means sacrifice on your part. And the catalyst of your death is strangely pointing directly in the middle between two signs. So your death could be the cause of two people or –”

The matchmaker sucked in a breath. As if a fright overtook her.

Nesta sat at the edge of her seat. The hairs on her neck rose. Foreboding filled the air.

“Or what?” Nesta breathed.

The matchmaker looked up at Nesta. Fear clear in her eyes.

“Or something inhuman. Something that is best to be avoided.” The matchmaker stood up suddenly. “I believe you should leave at once. Your session is over.”

“Can you not tell me more?” Nesta questioned. Something about her chart set her on edge. She wasn’t one to believe in such things, but her feelings did not sit well at the moment after the latest reveal.

“No,” the matchmaker began pushing Nesta to the door. “And do not ask me again.”

“But –” Nesta tried to question the woman more, but the doors opened and the matchmaker all but tossed her out.

“Do not return!” The matchmaker wildly exclaimed. Loud enough that the townspeople heard and gasped in shock at the sight before them. The doors closed and Nesta was standing there perplexed beyond anything until the whispering of the townspeople stirred her to move.

She walked pass them all with her head held high. Elain weaved through the crowd and clutched her elbow.

“Nesta?” Elain worriedly looked up at her eldest sister. Confused at the matchmaker’s apparent distressed actions.

Mrs. Laurent stepped in front of them before Nesta could say anything. “To the carriage. Now.” Her face was unhappy and disappointed. It was obvious that a match had not been made for Nesta to be married.

Nesta didn’t argue and neither did Elain. Soon they boarded their carriage back to the manor. It’s green roof and gardens planted by Elain gave Nesta a sense of ease. But she knew something was coming. A storm brewed violently and Nesta knew she had to act.

When they arrived home Nesta went to her room to remove the makeup and hairpins. No sooner had she pulled out the last pin a maid knocked on her door and entered at Nesta’s reply to enter.

“Miss there is a…fae man outside requesting an audience with the head of household,” the maid wrung her hands nervously.

Since Nesta’s father was away on trade business in a neighboring country that left Nesta in charge.

“I will be down momentarily,” Nesta replied still seated on the vanity seat and removing the last piece of jewelry from her body. The maid left to go back downstairs to notify the fae of Nesta’s soon arrival.

It was a matter of importance that Nesta rid the fae from their property. Enough fae folk had ruined the Archerons. She did not intend for any to linger and cause more trouble for her family.

Just thinking about the time when Feyre was stolen away by the High Lord of Spring made Nesta clench her fists into her dress. It had been months since Nesta had last seen Feyre. She was a changed being. Literally.

But so too was Nesta and Elain after all these years. The three Archeron sisters gifted with fae powers.

Nesta glided down the stairs and toward the front entrance. Outside there was indeed a thin looking fae male. He wore glasses and dressed more like a scholar compared to the two fae guards that accompanied him.

“I presume you are the eldest Archeron?” The male asked.

Nesta stood firm just outside the doorway. She closed the door so that the conversation was private from the ears of the prying staff.

“I am,” Nesta replied. “What business do you have with us?”

The male pulled out a parchment. “We seek soldiers for the upcoming war with Hybern. It was agreed between both the human queens and the high lords and ladies of the fae lands that each family must have one member volunteer for the armies.”

“But my father is away on business and my sister and I are the only ones here,” Nesta supplied. “Do you expect families to offer soldiers when no member is suited for battle? What of the families with younger children? Would you take their fathers from them for this war?”

“If we do not have soldiers then those children will have much more to worry about then being fatherless,” the male admitted. He handed her the rolled up parchment. “You or your sister must join the ranks. If not then the paper will enact a curse upon your household and randomly select one of you to be chosen.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Nesta growled clenching the paper tight. “I will die before letting Elain anywhere near a battlefield.”

“Then I suggest you make your decision by nightfall,” the male pointed toward the paper. “Use your blood and thumbprint as a signature on the contract. Once that is completed you will be magically transported to one of Prythian’s forces where you will be trained.”

“Which army will I be selected for?” Nesta knew Prythian had seven courts. Each had an army of it’s own.

“The magic will take you to the one that you are destined for,” the male eerily replied.

Nesta stared the male down. Hating the fae even more for jeopardizing Elain. They had already taken Feyre from them. She wasn’t about to lose another sister.

“If there is nothing else for you to say then our business is done,” Nesta concluded stonily. A clear sign the fae were to leave at once.

The three males didn’t say farewell as they walked back down the road from which they came. Nesta imagined that once they hit the tree line they would whisk away with magic.

Upon returning inside Nesta met Elain as she walked in from the dining room.

“Who was at the door?” Elain asked with a tray of tea in hand.

The war contract felt heavy in Nesta’s hand. Discreetly she stuffed the paper into the folds of her dress making it impossible for Elain to see.

“Men who had lost their way and needed directions,” Nesta lied. “They have left now so we need not worry about them.”

“Oh.” Elain cocked her head to the side. “Well I suppose we could have tea together in the study perhaps? I’m sure you want to finish the book you’re reading right now. And maybe we can talk about what happened in the matchmaker’s home?”

Nesta would tell Elain that her potential husband was a fire sign, but the other details would have to be left out. She wouldn’t worry Elain about the death and war lines that were crossed.

Instead Nesta put on a rare smile solely reserved for her sister. One in which she removed her indifferent mask and revealed a more gentler side that few had ever seen.

“I wish you could have seen the matchmaker’s face when she saw my love line,” Nesta said. “Or the horrid fact that it connects with someone with a fire sign.”

Elain giggled. “Only someone of fire could handle you Nesta. It will be exciting to finally meet him! Especially after you broke off the courtship with Thomas.”

Nesta’s throat lodged at the mention of Thomas. That monster had left horrible memories. The sound of her dress ripping. His fingers gripping her wrist so tightly that bruises marked her skin. Luckily she escaped before it went any further, but the fear of his name still lingered.

The sisters entered the study with Elain softly humming a tune that was secretly known to help flowers blossom. The roses on the small table proved that point when their color turned a more vibrant healthy shade of red.

Perhaps one day Elain could live in a place where she didn’t need to hide her abilities. A haven where she could flourish like the plants she helped thrive. Nesta too wondered if there would be a place for her as well. But her powers brought destruction. Not life like her sister.

Even Feyre had shown promise in her abilities before being taken by the High Lord of Spring. But it was too late to change the past. And now Nesta focused on ensuring a safer future for Elain.

Hours later the Archeron estate was silent in the middle of the night. A thunderstorm could be heard rumbling in the distance. Nesta sat alone in her room in front of the unlit fireplace using the light of the moon to read the papers that would bind her as a soldier in the war against Hybern.

She read over each line carefully. Scrutinizing the words until she could practically recite them back from memorization. Then the noises of the night quieted. Dead silence filled the air and Nesta looked up from the paper.

“Hello human,” a voice spoke out from the room’s shadows. Nesta startled. She rose from her chair and snatched a letter opener from the table.

“No need for that,” the voice said. It sounded old and young, beautiful and grotesque. “Your meager weapon would be no match against my kind.”

My kind.

“What are you,” Nesta questioned in a ragged breath wondering what sort of monster lurked in her room.

“You’re not asking the right questions.” Click, click, click. Its fingernails tapped against something in the dark.

“What are you,” Nesta demanded again.

Quiet. Then a scratchy release of breath that reminded Nesta of an annoyed sigh.

“I am a creature of no Court and older than the bones of this world.”

Nesta’s heart pounded in her chest. “Then you’re a fae from Prythian?”

A rasping laugh from the darkness sent Nesta’s skin crawling.

“My kind are called Suriel, but I had expected that the eldest Archeron would ask better inquiries. It’s no fun if you don’t play.”

“You think this is a game,” Nesta took a step forward brandishing the letter opener. “I have read about your species. Do not think you can toy with me and give riddles for answers.”

“So you are smart for a human,” the Suriel said. “But then again you’re not entirely human.”

Nesta froze. She stared deep into the obscured corner of the room where the Suriel waited. Slowly the shadows of the room stretched out. But those were not shadows. Dark tattered robes moved into the moonlight. A tall, thin veiled figure appeared with spindly arms sticking out from the sleeves.

The urge to run flooded Nesta. Flee and warn Elain to escape from this frightening faerie. Run and keep running and never look back.

“Now,” a lipless mouth spoke around too-long teeth. “Ask me the question.” Milky white eyes of death and sickness watched Nesta deliberate the statement she just heard.

“Why are you here?” Nesta asked quietly.

“To assist you on your journey,” the Suriel replied. “For you have potential.”

“You speak about the war.” It was not a question. What other journey would Nesta dare to take with the threat of her sister being taken in her place if she didn’t? “And how do you propose that a wraith should be beneficial?”

The Suriel placed a long yellowed nail to the corner of its mouth. It tsked in disappointment. “Have we not established I am a Suriel? It would seem obvious what I can offer in times where you are confused and in need of answers.”

“So you’ll just come at my beck and call?” Nesta snorted in disbelief. “I very much doubt that and I don’t intend to have a debt hanging over my shoulder for your assistance.”

“My presence will come forth when I choose so and a form of payment will be made upon my answers given to your questions,” the Suriel agreed. “Most of the time I prefer coats, but lately I’ve been desiring socks.”

Nesta considered the words. Having the Suriel as an ally would be an incredible asset. “Fine. But I leave tonight for war.”

The Suriel gave one nod with a sharp smile. “But of course. I already knew that.”

Without a second thought Nesta tossed one of her crocheted scarves at the creature. “That is your payment for tonight. Next time I expect clear-cut answers. No toying around with words. And no damned answers with hidden meanings.”

“Oh, but we shouldn’t make promises that can’t be kept,” the Suriel sprung across the floor in a flash and darted out the open window. It was all but a dark blur in the moonlight as it escaped to the Wall bordering human and fae lands.

Nesta heaved a sigh of relief and closed the window. Her gaze returned to the parchment on her writing desk. It would be midnight soon. Her time to be spirited away to one of the Courts was drawing nearer.

With her remaining time left Nesta wrote a letter. One that explained to Elain that she was going to be away to help the fae and humans fight against Prythian. She asked Elain not to follow her, but instead look to safety in case the war did not end in their favor. She apologized to her sister. Wishing things were more peaceful and that their home was whole and full of love that had been taken from them years ago.

A shuddering choked sob caught in Nesta’s throat as she signed her name along with her hope to see Elain in the future again. Softly Nesta crept out of her room and down the hall to Elain’s room where she placed the note and their mother’s bracelet on the bedside table.

As the final hour of the day was about to draw to a close, Nesta used her sharpened letter opener to make a small cut on her thumb. The blood welled on the skin before enough had been drawn out.  Steadily Nesta brought her thumb down on the paper. Immediately she felt magic thrumming after she had sealed her life to battle.

Her own magic swelled from within the deep trenches she kept it buried. It coursed through her veins in a matter of seconds before suddenly the ground disappeared beneath her. Nesta tumbled in darkness. Panic rushing in her stomach as she fell into nothingness.

Then her body collided on something hard and cold. Nesta sucked in air with a gasp as she stared up into darkness. No. There was something bright shining above her in a sea of darkness.


Nesta was alive looking at a night sky filled with stars. She sat up and rubbed her back which took the brunt of her landing.

“Damn fae magic,” Nesta grumbled thinking it was quite a ridiculous way to transport people to and fro. She couldn’t imagine how the humans dealt with such an abrupt method of travel.

She turned her body around at the sound of deep laughter and male voices in the near distance. A camp of sorts was set-up a little over 100 yards from her. Large fires pits illuminated the area filled with crude tents that were constructed a safe distance around the burning flames. Along the tree line a dozen buildings of gray mountain stone stood tall as smoke puffed from the chimneys.

Nesta shivered in her attire. She had worn a long nightdress to bed with boots for her journey, but this cold seeped deep into her bones. Wind howled like wolves across the bare rock and mud that Nesta walked on. Her feet carried her closer to the camp. Each step closing the distance between her and a fate that danced with war and love.

And Nesta’s gait did not falter in the face of what was to come.

Next Chapter

✯  Masterlist of Chapters

Fated Love || pt. 1

JJ Project Series AU

Originally posted by miewmiew

Jaebum x Reader (you) x Jinyoung 

Warnings: smut and violence in future chapters

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: As princess of the Kingdom of Asilama, it is your duty to serve your people and protect them from any danger. Thus, the fate of your kingdom is weighed upon your shoulders when you are forced to marry a prince. With this abrupt news, your fate with love has changed between your best friend to an unknown prince. With a torn heart, your future became harder to decide as danger begins to arise. 


in honor of jjproject’s comback, i’ve decided to make a series out of these two. i’m super excited for this story since it’s my first time writing a big series like this in a long time. i hope you guys will enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. the next update will be sometime this week, hopefully haha! -admin

The calming wind blew the leaves on the tree as the sky vanishes almost completely, only a few fragments of blue remain like scattered pieces of an impossible jigsaw puzzle. The air was rich with the fragrance of leaves. After many hours of rain that have passed, the soil remained wet, slowly releasing its heady fog. It was close to evening and everything was cool with a hint of softness of that time. The only movement was the occasional bird, startling in a tree or a squirrel dashing up a nearby trunk. The sound of running water in the brook has the same hypnotic quality as music, creating a sense of peacefulness throughout the forest.

You took in a deep breath of fresh air as you raised your bow in the air, the arrow inches away from your cheek. With one eye closed, you aimed for the apple that was tied onto a tree branch. Although the apple was set far away, you were confident enough to aim right for the apple’s core. Your sense of pride gave you the confidence to release the tight string that sent the arrow flying, hitting the apple straight in the middle.

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I F   I T   W O U L D   P L E A S E ♡

15 Days of Valentines ♡ | a Jon/Sansa meme
↳ 4/15: Blind date/Setup | Arranged Marriage

With a reputation tarnished by falsehoods, twenty-one year old Sansa Stark in unable to find herself a husband in a time where a woman’s utmost requirement is to be married off. At wit’s end, and fed up with her turning down every husband he can find for her, Ned Stark arranges one final match for his eldest daughter; only this time, her charming suitor is a former acquaintance.

I took some liberties with the theme; there’s no denying that. But it’s also the only thing I could conjur up today so let’s just… go with it? I’m leaving it with one chapter for now, but if it’s enjoyed then I may write more to it one day. Anyways, enjoy! :)

Below or AO3

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anonymous asked:

Soo, can you write a sequel to the fic where Dick brings up Jason's old Robin costume (and successfully embarrassing him), where Bruce brings out the old scrapbooks of Dick, Jay, and Timmy? (Successfully mortifying all three boys, and bringing up old, embarrassing stories that occurred to them) bonus - Robin!Tim

Ok so here’s the last one! Thank you everyone who sent in prompts and for being patient with me when a few took a little longer than planned. I start school next week so I’ll be very busy but I plan of doing another writing prompt when I have time! I’ll admit I’ve been struggling with exactly how exactly to go about this prompt when it hit me. What do parents do when they have embarrassing pictures? They weaponize it.

Bruce really hated fighting with his partners, aside from the fact that it interrupted that strong, united front he had come to rely on, they just had to make the whole ordeal personal.

“You know what your problem is B?” Nightwing shouted on top of a roof that every pimp and junkie in Crime Alley could probably hear. “You don’t know how to feel; you just bottle everything up and come across as a cold hearted bastard. And I try, I try so damn hard to respect your boundaries but it’s hard when I can’t even tell if you like me half the time, much less love me.” Bruce fought down the sigh that was building in his chest. He wonders if it’s always this hard with children, or just vigilante ones.

“Nightwing, calm down,” he says dryly, hoping to talk down his eldest from tirade but it only seemed to get him more worked up.

“You never wanted to deal with people, you just want someone to control. You want someone as empty and hollowed out as you are who just blindly follows your orders and never asks for anything in return.” Dick’s face is flushed beneath his mask and he points at himself. “I need reassurance sometimes. I need to hear you admit sometimes that you care, that it’s not just about the mission sometimes. I mean,” some of the fight drained out of the young hero. “Do you even notice us outside of our costumes? Are we anything more to you than an extra hand in the field?” He asked with a sad sigh.

“Christmas Eve, your third year at the house.” Bruce said softly so only Dick could hear him. “You accidently got ahold of some alcoholic eggnog and staggered around for hours, stripped down to your underwear, singing some old song in Romani.” His lips twitch slightly at the fond memory but he needs to remain serious. Dick’s face softens at the story.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that. My head was killing me the next day, Alfie let me open my presents in bed.” He chuckles warmly.

“It’s something I cherish,” Bruce admits quietly, “those quiet moments I’ve had with you, with all of you, they’re the reason I can keep going every night.” Dick smiles and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I can reminisce on them any time seeing as I have a few dozen photographs of the event, I’m sure Barbara and your friends would enjoy them too.”

Nightwing freezes, his striped fingers clenching Bruce’s shoulder in shock as the full implications hit him. “Oh man, B, you wouldn’t do that. That’s like… practically illegal to break out the embarrassing cutsie pictures.” Dick moans.

“That depends, are you done with your little temper tantrum?” Batman teases right back, smiling when his son starts to laugh and back off so he can hold his gut.

“Oh man, talk about tough love. Fine, I give; I’ll keep our personal arguments to the house but please give me those photos, including the negatives. I won’t get my teammates to respect me again if they see those.”

“You’ll have to talk to A about that one, he’s particularly fond of the one where you’re drunkenly sprawled half naked in the aft ballroom. 


“Hood, step down.” Bruce ground out roughly, hating that he had to use such a tone with his boy but Jason wasn’t in his right mind right now. He’d been doing so good, being friendly with Dick and Tim, refraining from lethal force. He’d even come over to the Manor once or twice for dinner in the last few months. But now he’s angry, enraged to the point of recklessness with a gun pressed flush against the temple of a local dealer who had purposely sold low quality drugs to children because they couldn’t afford any better. Now they had a morgue full of dead children and this sick, twisted man was threatening to send his boy over the edge again. “Put your weapon down and back away.”

“This scum deserves to die Batman; sixteen kids are dead because of this bastard.” Jason shouts, ramming the pistol harder against the dealer’s temple. “You can’t stop me from doing what needs to be done!”

A few of Gordon’s men slowly approached but he saw Jim wave them off. He may not know the whole story but he knew that Batman was the only one who could talk down the Red Hood. Plus he knew that this was a family affair.

“We caught him Hood, you and me. He is going to suffer the consequences of his terrible actions for the rest of his life in prison. Don’t be like him; don’t put him in the same morgue as those kids you’re trying to avenge.”

Jason makes an enraged keening noise and Bruce knows that inside his helmet, Jason is angrily crying. Jay used to do that as a boy; he’d get so worked up during an argument that soon there’d be tears spilling out of his eyes and the both of them would fold. As much as he hates to see his boy in pain, the familiar holdover from his childhood gave him hope that the situation, that Jason, could still be saved.

“Do you remember how much you used to idolize Nightwing?” Bruce begins slowly, going out into uncomfortable and unfamiliar territory. But for Jason, well he’d do pretty much anything. “You acted indifferent but I saw how you admired the idea of Robin, how much you wanted to be him.”

“What the hell are you talking about, old man?” Hood demands in a scratchy voice but still with his gun trained on his target.

“One night I came home from patrol early and I found you bouncing around the cave in the old Robin costume, shouting out witty retorts and doing some incorrect, but enthusiastic, martial arts.” One of the officers behind him snorts quietly into his hand while Bruce just smiles. “The costume was far too big for you; the boots kept slipping off and you stole one of my belts to keep the pants up.”

“Why are you,” Jason hisses and Bruce can hear the embarrassment in his voice.

“I took some stills of the event from the security footage. I’ve kept them safely hidden away all these years but I promise you, I will send digital and hard copies of those photographs to every member of Gordon’s MCU if you shoot that man.” There’s a hushed silence before Jason lowers his gun and turns to look at him with astonishment.

“Are you actually blackmailing me? With baby pictures?” In the moment Hood had taken his attention off the dealer, the man made a break for it. Jason spun back around, bringing his weapon back up and aiming it. It’s an easy shot for a man like him, but now Gordon’s men have run forward and brought down the dealer on their own and are cuffing him. Jason growls angrily, tensing up before slowly allowing himself to relax. He opens his hand and lets the gun clatter to the ground.

“Can’t risk losing my street cred over a couple of dumb old pictures.” Jason murmurs softly his voice teasing and maybe even a little bit relieved, of course that could just be Bruce’s wishful thinking. He wanted to say more to the troubled young man but Hood was already running, halfway up a fire escape before Bruce could move. Well, there were other days and other pictures.

“Good job there,” Gordon says conversationally as his men haul off the dealer where he’ll receive proper punishment. “I understand that you made a promise, but how would you feel about a trade? The picture of your boy in green underwear for Barbara getting tangled up in the monkey bars.”



“How long have you been awake Timothy?” Tim paused halfway through his yawn at the gruff voice behind him. You know things are bad when adults pull out the full name. He shook himself awake a little more before turning to face Batman or Bruce really seeing as the cowl wasn’t up.

“B it’s fine, Deathstroke’s been giving the Titans trouble again and I need to be more prepared this time.” Tim sighed and turned back to the screen where he’s been staring at Slade Wilson’s file for hours. “He critically injured Bart last time, made fools of us. We need to be ready, I need to be ready.” Tim said, sinking into his chair as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Tim, you know as well as I that you reach a point in investigations where you’re overworked and overrun and you’re not thinking straight.” Bruce said putting his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “I guarantee you this will still be down here in the morning and that you’ll be thinking much clearer.” Tim frowned in annoyance and leaned closer to the screen because the words were starting to blur.

“Yeah, got it,” Tim said with a dismissive wave. “I’ll be up in a half hour, I promise.”

“Tim,” Bruce growled out not unkindly. “This is the fifth time I’ve had to come down here. I thought I’d give you one more chance before Alfred dynamited you out of the Cave.” Tim sighed.

“Bruce,” he moaned, “you don’t understand.” He said like the teenager he occasionally was.

“Oh I think I understand obsessive behavior and near idealistic sense of martyrdom better than most,” Bruce said dryly. “I can see that you’re not going to make this easy so you’re forcing me to fight dirty.” Tim’s body tensed up as his chair was spun around, expecting Bruce to unleash some physical pain upon him.

“You were the least skilled of all the boys when you first came to me,” Bruce began ominously. “You had to work extra hard to gain the muscle and stamina required before you could even undergo my training.” Tim made a face but nodded, it’s not like it wasn’t true and those were some agonizing couple of weeks.

“I have photographic evidence of you in brightly colored sweatbands and yoga pants doing Jazzercise in order to work on your flexibility.” Bruce deadpanned with an eyebrow raised in amusement. “The Titans won’t be worried about Deathstroke if they’ve seen 13 year old you chanting along with an exercise video from the 1980’s.” Tim’s mouth dropped open in shock at the threat.

“You wouldn’t!” He shouted, wincing when he saw the seriousness in his mentor’s face. “You can’t,” he said softer this time, shrinking in his chair like a guilty child.

“I will, unless you go to bed and let me and Dick talk to you about how to deal with Deathstroke over breakfast tomorrow morning.” A slight grin, “it’s up to you but I have seen the costumes that your friends wear and I think they’d approve of your workout clothes.” Tim threw his hands in the air.

“I give, I’ll go upstairs, have a glass of milk, sing a song, do anything you want just please don’t show those pictures.” Bruce smiled and lightly, but forcefully helped his bird out of his chair and guided him to the stairs. “I can’t believe you’d stoop so low as threatening us with pictures. I’m going to have to dig up some dirt on you for next time.” Tim said through another yawn. “Also you know, brightly colored workout clothes was cool a few years ago.”

Bruce rolled his eyes as he patted Tim’s back, “whatever makes you sleep at night, champ.”

Bonus Cass:

“Cassandra, what are you doing in here all alone?” Bruce asks poking his head into his new daughter’s bedroom. She looked at him for a moment and he wondered if this was okay. He’d raised and trained three boys but girls were different altogether. She smiled though and beckoned him in.

“Don’t know where else to go,” she shrugged as she turned her head to continue staring out the window.

“The house is yours completely, you can go anywhere, do anything you wish.” He said stepping closer but still giving her space. He imagined after years of David Cain’s brutal abuse and behavior, she would like to keep others at arm’s length. She shrugged and, while he’s not the body language expert she is, he can sense the discomfort in it. He frowned, he didn’t expect her to feel at home right away but she was so quiet, so different from the boys that he didn’t know the best way to make her feel safe and wanted.

“Where are the others at?” He asked conversationally and was rewarded with another soft smile.

“Doing something foolish,” she said with an amused tone in her voice. He decided it was best he didn’t ask, he’d end up hearing about it later anyway when someone’s nursing a ridiculous injury at dinner. But there was a kinship in that amused affection at the other children’s antics that he recognized.

“You know, Dick has accidently taken a bite out of decorative fruit more times than I can count; he always makes this great face when he realizes it’s wax.” He says watching as Cass’s face remains neutral but her eyes light up. “Jay tried sneaking out his window one night and while crawling down the trellis, he got stuck and I had to get a ladder out at 2:30 in the morning to get him down.” She tapped her finger against her cheek in amusement.

“And Tim?”

“It would take more time than we have to go through all the odd and embarrassing things I’ve caught Tim doing,” he held out his hand. “But we might as well start now. Alfred’s got a couple of photo albums dedicated to kids in various ridiculous situations.”

“Sounds nice,” she said, giving him as broad a smile as he’s ever seen from her, putting her small but powerful hand in his own. “My brothers are silly.”

“That they are my dear, that they are.”

touch me (m) | park jimin

summary: a dance-off turns into something with more.. skin

pairing: k.a.r.d.member!reader, reg.!jimin

request:  I’m waiting on the jimin request I sent you about jimin falling for you and you’re an upcoming artist 😍

rated: m

a/n: im starting off 2017 by reintroducing smut to my blog… i realize sex is a beautiful thing, not to be afraid of, and that the chances of any of us having it with these amazing men is slim to none. in no way is this meant to represent park jimin or what he would do as an actual person, but instead is meant to represent an intimate part of him we will probably never get the chance to see lmao. also based off K.A.R.D.

Debut was months ago, but you still got nervous every time you saw how many people were in the audience. 

Stood in a room empty, save for your group members, you hung out by the bar towards the back of the room, nodding your head along to the low bass rumbling from the speakers- courtesy of Jiwoo’s aux cord and Pandora station. Sipping on some odd mixture of Mountain Dew and vodka, you glanced back at the mirror you leant against, making sure you hadn’t messed up the lipstick you were meant to wear for your performance later. It was dark red, as was the whole concept for your debut. Your group, newly debuted from BigHit Entertainment as a mixed-gender, was nervous yet excited for their fourth stage this week. You had a solo, as expected being the leader, and your status as the lead dancer had you running through your moves in your head. 

The door to your closed off section jingled and your eyes shot towards the entrance. It slammed back against the wall and seven sweaty boys jogged into the room, cheering and slapping one another on the backs in congratulations. 

Bangtan Sonyeondan. They were your senior group but you’d grown up with them, being a trainee in BigHit for a little over seven years. Their maknae was a year younger than you and their eldest was only three, and the similar ages made for lots of teasing, jokes, and laughs. They were like the brothers you never had- of course, not including your actual group members, Taehyung and Matthew. 

Their faces were pink and their gasps filled the room quickly. You eyed them all and their fancy clothing- all cuffs and puffy shoulders and lace vests. You smiled, admiring how good they all looked until you came to- 

fuck, he was already looking at you. 

Park Jimin was the one you’d gotten close to over trainee years. He was the first one who welcomed you to BigHit when he was a trainee himself and even through his debut, his trip to America, and his maturing in dance in music he’d stayed as your friend and, sadly, like a brother. His hair had been dyed blonde as their concept for a comeback and you’d be lying if you said the blue contacts he wore weren’t attractive. Everything about him was attractive, though, if you were honest. His jaw was sharp and his nose was irritatingly perfect, along with pursed pink lips glistening with the stylist’s personal gloss, tan yet somehow light (it was the make up, you were sure) flawless skin and ugh

“Hey!” Jungkook exclaimed excitedly at the sight of the five of you. He rushed forward to greet everyone, along with a shining Hobi and a proud Namjoon. You watched him hop around until he got to you, arms extended. “I’m so excited to see your stage!” 

“Us too,” you laughed, trying to hide your nerves behind a red solo cup. Across the room perched next to Min Yoongi, Jimin eyed your drink with one lifted brow, lips pursed perfectly and curiosity sparkling in those irises of his. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Hoseok clapped a hand down on your bare shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly. You’d taken off your overshirt upon realizing you’d be waiting awhile for your stage, leaving you in a tight thermal tank top tucked into your army jeans and boots. Jimin secretly admired the way it clung to your curves, smiling softly behind his hand. 

“I’m not,” you admonished with a shaky laugh. Eyes wide at your own words, you took another long sip and hissed when the vodka burned through your nostrils. 

Hoseok stumbled backwards into Jimin and draped his arm over his shoulder. Amused, Jimin looked down at him. “I know what we can do to make everyone loosen up.” You raised your eyebrows, urging him to continue. Hoseok held his hands out like he’d just discovered something monumental, eyes narrowed and mischievous. Behind him, Jungkook was rubbing his hands together deviously. 

“Dance off.” 

You snorted behind your cup. You’d been dancing since you were four years old, taking formal ballet classes up until you discovered trap and hiphop-style dances. Swept away into the world of underground dance at the age of thirteen, Hoseok had been just introduced as a trainee, and everyone knew his name where you danced. Now you were twenty, living in Seoul with your group members in an apartment off Flower Street, dancing and earning money for it. 

You were lying if you said dancing didn’t loosen your nerves. 

“Come on,” Hoseok clapped his hands together and jumped excitedly. By the door, Kim Seokjin laughed and made his way for the bar next to you. He flashed you a wink and poured himself a drink. 

On the couch, your group member Taehyung (for the sake of confusion, you’ll just refer to him as Seph), jumped to his feet. “_____-ah against Jimin-ie. It’ll be hilarious. Street dancer against contemporary.” 

“Ahh,” you shook your head grinning, “I don’t wanna embarrass him.” 

You’d seen Jimin dance street. He was good. No, scratch that- he was better than good. He could’ve battled, even- he danced next to Hoseok flawlessly, and that was saying something. 

Across towards the door, Jimin raised his eyebrows and placed one hand over his heart, “Jagiya, I could destroy you.” 

I wish, you thought to yourself lamely. 

Babe,” you recalled your English-speaking years from your original country, being North America in New York, “don’t flatter yourself.” 

Your nickname for Jimin had all the English-speakers in the room jumping to their feet, hollering and screaming at the both of you. You noticed immediately that Jiwoo had changed the song on the speakers and turned it up, letting the low bass of August Alsina to shake the floor. At this point everyone was yelling at the two of you, calling out one another. 

Jimin held your gaze tightly. His eyes were darker now (was that possible with his contacts?), half-mooned and lips shining in a tiny, teasing smirk. His slender, skinny fingers traveled up to the buttons of his gold-and-black lace vest, undoing each one from his throat until he was removing them from his unfairly-tight jeans. He wore a white tank top underneath as an undershirt, kept in place by his expensive belt. Running a hand through his blonde locks, Jimin stepped forwards, “Well, come on then, princess.” 

Matthew hooted at you from the couch and stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth, urging you to go. 

You didn’t want to start- you wanted to see what Jimin was going to bring to the table. Chugging back the rest of your vodka and Mountain Dew, you beckoned him to go first, watching as Seph and Jungkook yanked the coffee table back for more space. 

Jimin’s eyes never moved from yours. He slid to the middle of the room, breaking character just to laugh when Taehyung shut the lights off and began the strobes kept for performances. Silver and purple flashed on the dancer, enunciating every hard muscle exposed through his tank top- yeah, sure he wasn’t going to have a six pack again, like you believed that for a second. 

His legs moved forwards, jerking before they smoothed out into fluid, calculated moves. You tried not to ogle as he slid across the floor, grinding his hips onto the rug (much to Jungkook’s amusement) and smiling sloppily up at you. You swallowed, a vein in your neck throbbing awkwardly at the sight. 

Jimin slid on his knees towards you and stopped, staring up at you with a bead of sweat dripping down his front pec and under his tank top. His eyes were hooded but held amusement and… something else, you couldn’t be sure of. A pink, wet tongue came out to lick his bottom lip and he shook his hair out of his face, mouthing the words your turn

The better half of you, the half that danced and was sexy for this concept and knew what to do to look good, took over the one that was nervous and awkward at the sight of him like that. You set down your empty cup and swept your hair backwards, smirking down at him while licking your lips. Matthew yelled at you and cheered, along with Jiwoo and Somi, who clapped eagerly. 

Stepping forwards, you jerked your leg to the side and followed it, transitioning into more fluid movements before falling backwards and catching yourself on one hand, grinding your hips up into the air. The sounds of your friends screaming for you drowned out against the smooth chords of the song. You could anticipate the next beats and you followed them, experimenting and deciding whether you would drag or rush. At one point you caught Jimin’s eye, holding his gaze as you stuck one leg out and swung your hips back and forth, running your hands through your hair and holding the strands up so they could fall messily back onto your face. 

Jimin’s lips parted, lust written across his face though you couldn’t be sure. He spun across the room towards you and stopped just at your feet, reaching out to stroke your cheek. You sucked in a breath at the proximity, watching with wide, shocked eyes. For a moment you thought he might kiss you but the thought disappeared when he swiveled backwards, feet moving and sweeping across the floor. You stared in awe at every muscle, every jerky and every graceful movement Jimin committed before you. 

Every group member in the room was yelling now, all on their feet and calling at either you or Jimin, urging one or the other to fight back. Your muscles were loose now, whether it was from dancing or vodka you weren’t sure, but you rushed forwards and cut the blonde off from his next move, whipping your hair around so that it could fall into your face. Smirking to yourself, you fell backwards onto one hand and ground your hips up into the air- the move everyone deemed American and the one move you loved to break out. With a sloppy grin on your face you spun around and stuck your ass out, crawling towards Jimin, who was leaning up against the couch, his face glistening with sweat and eyes darker than you remember. 

The door to the room flew open and a woman with a clipboard and glasses hurried in, “K.A.R.D., you’re on in ten. Get backstage.” She eyed you curiously, on the floor and already sweating before your performance. “You should probably see makeup before you go on.” 

You laughed to yourself and hid your face in your hands, suddenly embarrassed at what you’d just done. The music ended and you hopped to your feet, absently wiping at the perspiration on your forehead and hurrying to grab your jacket. The Bangtan boys fell onto the empty spaces you left for them, though Jimin stood by the door, arms folded and rippling as you hurried to makeup. The last one out, no one noticed when he caught you by your bicep and held you in place. 

Your eyes bulged out of your skull, frozen. You stared at Jimin in confusion, your chest tight when he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “We’re not finished.” 

Heart pounding, you scurried out of the room, trying desperately not to pass out as you went. 

Jimin took the red cup from Jin and propped himself up on the arm of couch, watching the television screen as the letters “K.A.R.D.” flashed across the bottom. He sipped from the soda Taehyung had thankfully poured him, free of alcohol or anything of the sort, eagerly waiting for the lights to flash on. 

The beat was fairly American, a sort of trap-dance tune that reminded Jimin of the style their own group was going for. He wasn’t sure if everyone else was nailing their choreography or lines, though, because his eyes were glued to you. 

You looked outrageously gorgeous in the outfit, even if it was simple, and the way you danced was so fluid and personalized that he found his lips parting unconsciously. By the time it was your turn to sing, Jimin was on the edge of his seat, watching as you slipped between notes and rapping. His nails dug into the thick denim of his jeans when you turned to roll your hips against Matthew, and he reminded himself to never watch the choreography video. 

The camera zoomed into you and you smiled lazily to yourself, face glistening with sweat and you eyes half-lidded with pleasure. He wondered if you got off on dancing like he did, if you fell completely in love with whatever you were doing so much so that it turned you on. 

“She’s so good,” Jungkook fell into the seat behind him and rested his arm on Jimin’s thigh. “You know she’s close to my age?” 

Jimin narrowed his eyes and leaned back to hit Jungkook behind the head, “Don’t get any ideas.” 

“We killed it!” 

Matthew jogged up next to you, dropping one sweaty arm over your shoulder and pulling you tightly against him. You smiled, high off each other’s excitement and pride, walking alongside his stumbling feet.You knew you’d have to wait a bit before you were allowed to leave so you followed your group back to the waiting room-

“Hey,” popping out of one of the hallways was the one person you’d been thinking about. Jimin appeared, lips curled into a tight, obviously forced smile. He glanced between Matthew and yourself, one eyebrow raised in your direction. “Can I borrow ____-ah for a moment? I wanted to talk to her about the point dance.” 

Matthew glanced down at you curiously, before glancing back up at Jimin. You swallowed and nodded your head understandingly. “I’ll be back soon,” you reassured you group, who’d all stopped now to watch the interaction suspiciously. Squeezing Matthew’s arm reassuringly, you stepped closer to Jimin, arms folded over your chest. 

He watched until everyone had filed into the room before his fingers closed around your wrist. In one fluid, powerful movement Jimin had pulled you into an empty dressing room, one you didn’t even know existed. You stumbled in, eyes wide and a gasp sucking in through your lips. Jimin hurried to lock the door. When he turned around, he wasn’t the sunshine small boy you saw in interviews or on shows, but someone you only saw when he danced- someone  with dark eyes, and less than good intentions. 

Jimin’s tongue darted out to swipe across his bottom lip, “You.” 

You gulped. He moved towards you and you stepped backwards until your knees hit the back of the couch. The cushions jumped underneath your weight and your eyes bulged, watching in shock as Jimin moved towards you. His legs were slow, eyes narrowed, like a lion stalking a gazelle. You scooted backwards on the couch, chest heaving, “M-Me?” 

A tiny smirk quirked on the edges of his lips. Jimin placed his knee on the arm of the couch, slowly moving until he was crawling over your body, rigid and frozen beneath him. You could smell his cologne now- strong but fruity, and you had half a mind to thank the stylists later. 

“J-Jimin, what’re you doing?” You whispered shakily. Jimin lowered his head until his mouth was by your ear, softly brushing against the sensitive skin there. 

“Can I?” His breath was hot and wet, his cheek softly leaning against your own. Your voice was lost somewhere in your throat, gone from shock and surprise. You could only nod your head pathetically. In one sharp movement Jimin was hovering above you again, his colored eyes glaring down into your skull, but there was something warm behind them- something he’d been looking at you a lot with. “I need to hear it.” 

The ball in your throat bobbed nervously, “Yes.” 

There was no time in between your words and his mouth attaching itself to yours. Your eyes were wide and round, pupils gone to pinpoints, staring at the top of Jimin’s blonde head. A fire coiled in the lowest pit of your stomach at the softness of his lips and you had always imagined it would feel this way- soft, cushiony, and wet against your own. Your fingers moved up to his shoulders, gripping his skin tightly. “Jesus,” Jimin whispered against your mouth, “you taste so fucking good.” 

The alcohol was gone from your system, you knew that, and you knew it was okay to kiss him without feeling terrible. The sweat perspiring on your skin must’ve tasted sour but Jimin licked at it nonetheless, softly moaning in the deep pit of his throat, the deepest it had ever sounded. He sucked on the thin skin, his warm tongue sliding over whatever it could reach. Your heart pounded erratically in your chest, your breaths suddenly short, bursting in the air. 

“Jimin…” gripping his shoulders tightly, he leaned back so that he could look down at you, eyes half-lidded and lips swelling quickly. You were sure by now you’d soaked through your underwear but you hoped he couldn’t tell, couldn’t feel it when he flipped the two of you over so that you were straddling him. But by the way his eyes rolled back in his skull, you figured he had. 

His cock strained between your legs. The denim-on-denim was rough and you wished you could’ve ripped his jeans off right there, but the better part of you knew not to, so you opted to kiss him, sucking and licking on all the places he’d done to you. 

Your thoughts, for the moment, had subsided. While you were still in disbelief that this was happening- to you, of all people- you allowed yourself to become lost in the way he felt underneath you, writhing and whispering your name against your lips and God, was this really happening

Jimin’s hands came to rest on your hips, tugging frustratedly at the band of your pants. “Can I…” he whispered against your chin. His breaths were heavy on your skin, his eyelashes fluttering softly against your cheek. You glanced down at the sight of him- flushed with want, that ridiculously handsome face of his glistening with beads of sweet. You’d be clinically insane if you were to say no. 

Your tiny word of approval was enough for him. Suddenly you were being thrown back against the couch, the back of your head lying comfortably on the arm rest. Jimin crawled down so that he was eye-level with your abdomen. He eagerly began to undo the buttons, pulling down the zipper so fast you worried it would break. You lifted your hips to help him tug the jeans down your legs. He chewed on his bottom lip as you wriggled out of them, pulling your shoes off after. 

Jimin hesitated. Your heart stopped when you realized something- you weren’t wearing underwear. Fuck, how had you forgotten? Even your stylist emphasized not wearing any, as it would bunch up in your jeans and make a visible line during the performance- not even a thong was an option, Junwoo had enunciated. 

His eyes narrowed at the sight of you, legs spread open before him and your pupils blown, staring down at you. Your pussy was just as perfect as he imagined it would be, glistening with your wetness, practically throbbing for his touch. One hand gripped your thigh tightly, pushing it farther away from the other. Jimin let out a long, slow breath, “I can fucking smell you.” 

His soft lips found the skin of your knee, slowly kissing their way up your thighs, until they were close enough that you couldn’t breathe, that you could feel his hair brushing your inner leg. Your stomach tightened with knots, tensed up before him. You could feel his short breaths panting onto your lips. Suddenly he was gripping the edges of your tank top and ripping the fabric in half, a smirk on his lips when he saw the soft red shade of your bra, pushing your breasts up a considerable amount. 

“Mine,” he whispered against your leg, cheek resting comfortably on your inner thigh, “you’re mine.” 

Before you could even possibly think up a response, that ridiculously warm pink tongue of his was darting from his lips, licking one long stripe up your folds. Your breath caught in your throat and everything froze for a moment, stilling at the unbelievable sensation. You could feel his smile against your thigh, though it disappeared when he leaned forwards, hiding his face between your legs. You gasped and grabbed onto his blonde strands, jerking your hips up uncontrollably. 

“So sweet,” Jimin mouthed against you. His tongue gave long strokes of kitten licks over your wet folds, dancing across your labia and teasing your clit. You pulled on his hair when he found your hole, grazing over the entrance, before he moved back up to suck on you. Pathetic whimpers escaped your parted lips, your eyes wide and staring down at the sight before you. 

You weren’t sure how long he went for, but it felt like eternity. You gripped his hair so much you worried it would rip out but he didn’t complain. Low growls rumbled in his throat, humming against your open legs in a manner that couldn’t even be described as ‘sexy’. Jimin was something else- was he even human? You weren’t sure. Especially with how undeniably gorgeous he looked at that moment. 

You stopped breathing when his finger crawled up your thigh, teasing your entrance. Jimin looked up at you with dilated eyes, his mouth and chin glistening in the fluorescents with your juices. A smirk quirked at the edge of his lips as he slipped one finger inside you- an easy feat, considering how wet you were. A long, drawn-out moan vibrated in the air- you weren’t sure if it was you or him, but God, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care anymore. 

“Fuck,” Jimin curled his finger inside you, “fuck, you’re so wet.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, “Jimin… please..” 

He glanced up at you, one finger lost between your legs, “Please what, baby girl?” 

The petname pulled at something warmer inside you- the part of you that admired the way Jimin smiled and not at the way he moaned against your thighs. Your chest expanded with something foreign but you couldn’t focus on that- not with the way he was looking at you. 

“I can’t-” you stared down at him, your chest heaving, “if you keep going..” 

Your hole was pushed apart by another finger of his, the one with the thick band- the sight of it almost made you scream, as you’d always admired how his hands looked with the amount of rings he bore. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

“Jimin,” you pulled on a strand of his hair and narrowed your eyes, “i-if you keep going… I mean- I.. I want to cum with you…” 

Jimin’s breath caught in his throat, anticipating what you were to say next. He pushed his two fingers deeper inside you, curling them and rubbing them along your walls. “Say it.” 

“With you in me,” you finally exhaled. You stopped, waiting to see what his reaction would be. The dark color of his eyes was visible through the ring left by his colored contacts, burning through your bones and setting your skin ablaze. In less than a registered second he was crawling up your body, hastily ripping off his shirt and discarding it somewhere along with your torn one. You helped him undo the buckle of his jeans but you got caught in the odd, fashionable way they’d been done. “Fuck, these stupid fucking stylists and their-” 

Jimin chuckled down at you and quickly undid it himself, “You’re so precious.” His words were soft and meant for himself, but you caught them being muttered quietly. Your heart bloomed with more than lust for him, though you pushed it down, mentally reminded yourself this was probably just sex and he most likely didn’t feel the same way you felt about him. 

By the time he’d finally managed to get his jeans off, you were in awe. His length stood proudly against his abdomen, which rippled with taut muscles that you wished he wouldn’t work so hard for- he was gorgeous either way. 

He was… wow. You weren’t expecting him to be large, just because he was small and adorable and not what you were witnessing before you. Veins throbbed along the side of his cock, his head soft and pink and glistening with pre-cum. Was it even possible for everything about him, even his dick, to be perfect and beautiful? 

“If you keep staring at me like that, princess,” Jimin warned as he pressed on hand on your cheek, “I won’t be able to stop myself.” 

Bravery burst through your lips, “Don’t.” 

Smiling down at you, Jimin’s fingers, slick with your wetness, moved up to your lips, rubbing the whitish substance over your mouth. You stared up at him in disbelief, confused as to what he was doing, before he moved down to press his lips on yours, licking across what he’d just put on you. The fire between your legs erupted and you sat up to push him back onto the couch. He bounced back on the cushions, gazing up at you in a mixture of confusion and lust. Slowly, you crawled over him, positioning yourself so that your pussy was rubbing along his shaft. You held his hungry glare as you undid the clasp of your bra. It fell off your shoulders, exposing your breasts to his predatory gaze. 

Jimin sat up quickly and pulled you down onto him. He attached his mouth to your breast and nibbled on your nipple, licking at whatever skin he could find. You held the back of his head in a gasp, grinding your wet folds down onto him. 

He slowed and gripped your hips tightly. His fingers dug into your skin and Jimin looked up at you through hooded eyes, silently begging your permission. You chewed down on your lip and nodded your head, whispering the word “yes”. 

Your world slowed as his head slid up and down your folds, gathering enough of your wetness so that could press himself against your entrance. You held onto his shoulders, staring down at him as you slowly sank onto his cock. 

You’d had sex before, sure enough. You’d had sex in the back of cars, trying to hide from the paparazzi, but it was all to get over those puppy dog eyes Jimin would give you during rehearsal and training and practicing, to fuck away the memory of how much you were attracted to him. But, now you were here, sitting on his dick with his hands holding your waist, low growls emitting from the deep pit of his throat- and it was all for you. 

The two of you recovered the fluidity of your movements just an hour before. You recalled the way he swept across the floor and how you ground your hips onto it, yet now they were on him, above him. “Fuck,” Jimin groaned beneath you as he jerked himself back up into you, “you’re so tight, what the fuck.” 

Pathetic whines broke through your pursed lips. You couldn’t find it in yourself to even form anything other than moans or cries of pleasure, and you hoped suddenly that Jiwoo had put her music back on and that no one could hear you fucking yourself onto Park Jimin in this empty waiting room. 

“I’m not gonna last long,” Jimin whimpered. His hands moved up to cup your bouncing breasts, holding them in place and kneading them while his cock pistoned in and out of you. You meant to reply with “me neither” but the words never found their way to his ears, lost in your moans and pleas for him to fuck you harder. 

His breaths got shorter, panting out into the room. By now you were sweating more than any dancing had ever gotten you, and your hands were in your hair, holding it back from your flushed face. Jimin held your hips tightly and sat up, pushing you back onto the couch again. He grabbed the back of your knee and hoisted it up and over his shoulder, positioning himself so that he could slide deeper into you. You held onto the fabric of the couch and his bicep, your eyes rolled back into your skull. 

Jagiya-” Jimin’s strained voice cut off and he let out one long, shaking groan. His hips stilled against your thighs and you gasped, unable to look at him. He stared down at you as his hot cum shot inside you, and he thrust his hips again, wanting to watch the way your breasts bounced at the force and how your face contorted with pleasure. Your cunt tightened around his cock, milking him better than he could’ve himself. 

Jimin collapsed on top of you and dropped his forehead onto the crook of your shoulder. “I don’t wanna pull out yet,” he confessed against your neck, his heavy breaths forming perspiration on your baby hairs. 

“Don’t,” you reached up to drive your fingers through his locks, pushing them back from his pink forehead. You smiled at the sight of him like this- fucked out and tired, laying on your body, exhausted and used. 

Minutes passed before he found it in himself to pull out. You sucked in a breath at the loss and gripped the couch tightly, eyes closed. 

“Shit,” Jimin froze, halfway out, “shit, did I hurt you?” 

You chewed on your lip and shook your head, “N-No.” 

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Did I hurt you, _____-ah?” 

You looked anywhere but him and swallowed thickly, “It’s just… I haven’t… in a long time and-” you glanced down at the floor and pursed your lips awkwardly, “sorry.” 

The last of his flaccid member fell out of you and you hissed, squeezing your eyes shut. “Don’t be sorry,” Jimin shook his head in disbelief and hurried to move off the couch. He rushed to somewhere in the room and your heart stilled. He was leaving. You knew it was too good to be true- that Park Jimin, of all people, would want to stay with you after fucking you. 

“Here,” he reappeared with a blanket and crawled in next to you, draping it over your exposed body and tucking it in by your arm. Your eyes widened in surprise when he pulled you closer into him, hugging you against his chest. 

“Jimin…” you whispered, dumbfounded, “what’re you doing?” 

He smiled sleepily down at you, nustling his sweaty head against yours, “We’re not going out there until we’ve rested. We can tell them we went and got ice cream, or something- but I’m not passing up an opportunity to be with you.” 

Your cheeks flooded with warmth and you looked away from him, staring at the interlocked frame of your nude bodies underneath the sheets. “O-Okay..” 

“Okay,” Jimin hugged you closer. “Let’s sleep then. Tomorrow we can go on a date.” 

Your eyes bulged out of your skull, and suddenly you were awake. “A-A date?” 

Jimin nodded his head and let out a sigh, “I wanna take you on a date. Is that okay?” 

That warmth returned to your chest, expanding through your body, to everywhere he touched you, everywhere he kissed you. “Y-Yeah… it’s more than okay.” 

Jimin beamed, though his eyes were tired and lidded. He reached up with a sigh and pulled out the contacts, discarding them on the coffee table. You looked up at him and smiled, admiring the new chocolate color his eyes were- the color you’d fallen for a long time ago. He glanced down at you, his chest tight, and leaned forwards to kiss your lips. 

“Let’s sleep.” 

Tickle Monster - Kit Harington x Reader

Prompt: ….  a fic of kit and his wife(reader) raising their kids in their big posh house ha thankyou thankyouu that’s be amazing ❤xxxxxxxxx
A/N: Okay so this is the second part to this [ Hi I was wondering if I could have a romantic holiday and then proposal fic with kit Harrington And then also a fic of kit and his wife(reader) raising their kids in their big posh house ha thankyou thankyouu that’s be amazing ❤xxxxxxxxx] request and therefore a sequel to The Beach

Originally posted by fykitharingtonn

Two years; two blissful years of being married to the love of your life. From then on it was chaos. Someone had the bright idea to have children. You had been looking forward to becoming a parent; however you were only expecting one child. When the doctor told you that you were going to have twins, your emotions went wild. Sure that was going to be exciting but it was also going to be a challenge, especially with Kit spending so much time away working.

Luckily as babies, they had been little angels. However now that the twins were four years old, they had developed a taste for mischief. Of course, both you and Kit found it adorable, but they’d grow out of it soon… you hoped. You had been so thankful to be blessed with a boy and a girl as you and Kit had many a dispute over your desired preference; even though you both knew that it wouldn’t matter in the end, it was your child and you would love them unconditionally regardless.

Kit wasn’t working this weekend which meant that the four of you would be spending some quality time together. The kids missed their father when he was away but they sure did make up for it when he was home. Jack, the eldest twin (only by a few hours but he was already holding that over his sister) was constantly calling for a ‘pile up’ – he insisted that everyone join in, the rules were very simple, drop what you were doing and jump on dad. Lilly didn’t like this game, she was always worried about hurting her father, Kit knew this so he’d always try to catch her in his arms and hold her tight until it was all over. She didn’t have a problem with that part.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!” Lilly called over and over again as she came charging down the spiral staircase, “Look what I did!” she beamed as she handed your husband a piece of paper.
“Oh Lilly, this is beautiful!” he said in his proudest ‘dad voice’ as he crouched down to her height and admired the drawing he had just been given.
“Look, we’re all on there,” she pointed “there’s me, and you, and mummy, and Jack!” she smiled, “I’m standing next to you because I love you the mostest” she wrapped her tiny arms as far around her father’s chest as she could.
“Well you can’t love me more than I love you, my little princess” he smiled as he booped her nose and pulled her into a tight hug.
“You can keep the picture daddy, so you won’t forget me” she buried her face in Kit’s chest and began to shake as though she was sobbing.
“Hey, look at me,” he said in a soft tone as he peeled her off his chest and placed his hands on her arms, “how could I ever forget my special little girl?” he asked, “you, your brother and your mummy are always with me, right here…” he pointed to his heart, Lilly put her hand on his heart too.
“Really?” she asked as she sniffed away a few tears that had run down her cheek.
“Really.” He answered, “Just like me, your mummy and your brother will always be with you… right here.” He smiled as he put his finger on her heart, she returned the smile and embraced her father.
“PILE UP” She shouted as she pushed her father to the ground in a fit of laughter, you were in the kitchen with Jack when you heard Lilly shout.
“Race you!” squealed Jack as he raced off.
“Hey, that’s cheating!” you responded playfully - of course you were going to let him win, but he didn’t need to know that. You walked into the living room to see your husband being smothered. You lay down on the floor next to Kit while the children climbed all over him, “what’s all this about?” you asked him.
“I’ll tell you later” He smiled as he kissed your forehead before getting back to his duties as The Tickle Monster.

anonymous asked:

How about where ignis's and his s/o have 3 kids (2 toodlers and a baby) and a little one shot where Ignis is sad and tries to cheer him up? 😌

I went with a fem!s/o (I came so close to revealing my headcanon name for Iggy’s s/o lol) annnnnd I couldn’t help but reveal my names for his kiddos because I was confusing myself with so many pronouns oops (*´꒳`*)
And I’m going to tell you why I named the kiddos the way I did I finally get to bust out these names yessss, sorry not sorry. In a previous request, I stated that I believed Ignis would have a daughter then a son. Fittingly enough, I’ve always had names for Iggy’s kids floating around in my head - Soleil, because it translates to “sun,” and Arcturus, because Harry Potter it means “star of joy.” Just a quick insight into the mind of Em~ may or may not have names for the other kids too please don’t judge me and the bros’ s/o’s shhhh

Where The Heart Is

The evening sun warmed Ignis’s back, a slight chill running down his spine as the breeze picked up. He stood in the doorway of a recently repaired apartment complex in Insomnia. Some years had passed since the return of the dawn. Enough years for Ignis to come alongside Gladio and Prompto to reestablish Insomnia, as well as for the three of them to settle down, get married, and begin raising families of their own.

He ran his fingers down the list of names, stopping when he felt the letters forming “Scientia” below his fingers. Tapping his wallet lightly on the scanner beside the name, he heard the door unlock with a click.

Everyone was always so surprised by how easily Ignis made his way around. Of course he needed occasional help, but many seemed to forget that he was blind - especially because he had a tendency to be able to look you in the eye while speaking to you. Could he see anything? That was beyond them. The truth was Ignis was able to distinguish between light and shadow, but that was it.

Iggy also had the gift of being able to brush off comments people made about eyesight before they even had a chance to realize their blunder. It seemed like every day Ignis would be hearing about how beautiful of a day it was, the way the flowers were blooming so beautifully, or how adorable Gladio and Prompto’s kids looked. Of course he missed his eyesight, but there was nothing he could do about that. And believe him, he had tried fixing it many times to no avail.

He climbed the stairs to his floor, making his way down the hall to the door of his home. Ignis’s fingers fumbled for a short second he searched for the keyhole. He could hear his family on the other side of the door, causing his heart to race in anticipation. His love for them was so much greater than anything he had possibly imagined it could ever be; he missed them dearly whenever he had to be away from them.

“I’m home!” He called out as he opened the door, kicking off his shoes and setting down his work bag.


He heard the pitter patter of little feet running towards him, then felt small hands grasping at his pant leg. Ignis couldn’t help but laugh as he picked up Soleil, his eldest child and only daughter. She threw her arms around his neck with a giggle, burying her face into his neck. She was completely unaware of her father’s blindness.

“I missed you too,” he said softly, unable to keep from smiling.

“Welcome home, darling. I’m so glad you’re back. These kids have been driving me insane today.”

His wife’s voice came from the other room - he wasn’t exactly sure where she was, but it sounded like she was in their children’s bedroom.

“I finally got Rowan to sleep,” she said as she came into the room, walking over to Ignis, “Arcturus is playing by the sofa. Boy hardly makes a noise, I forget he’s there sometimes.”

She placed a hand on his waist, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her for a kiss.

“You’re my hero, love,” he teased gently, causing her to let out a rather forced laugh.

Hours passed. Ignis made dinner while his wife sat on the floor, reading a book while keeping an eye on Soleil and Arcturus as they played together. Eventually, Ignis put Soleil and Arcturus to bed, telling them a story of the Chosen King, Noctis Lucis Caelum, as they fell asleep.

After showering, Ignis got into bed, his wife face down on her side of the bed, slowly drifting off to sleep.


“Hm?” She waited for a moment before propping herself up on an elbow to look at Ignis, “What is it?”

“I realized while I was with Gladio and Prompto today,” he started off slowly, “I’ve never seen our children.”

There was a long pause. He hadn’t expected a response. It was a heavy topic after all.

“I… Oh, Iggy. I’m sorry. I…. I don’t even know what to say.” Her response was quiet and gentle, just like the personality Ignis had fallen so in love with.

“I don’t expect you to know,” he said with a small smile, taking her hand in his.

There was another pause as she mulled over what to say next; Iggy could almost hear the wheels turning in her head.

“I really think you know the kids better than I do,” she said softly, giving his hand a quick squeeze.


“You see who they truly are. Your thoughts of them aren’t clouded by their exterior appearance. You see their hearts and their personalities instead.”

Ignis wasn’t sure what emotion he was feeling, but he could feel it welling up inside of him. Was it sorrow? Joy? He let go of her hand and moved it to her cheek, murmuring, “Come closer to me.”

She fumbled slightly as she sat up, scooting herself closer to him. He put his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. She rested her head on his chest, his other hand finding its place on her hip.

“You are far too good to me, dear,” he breathed, resting his chin on the top of her head, “Could you describe them to me? Again?”

“Of course,” she said with a soft giggle, snuggling in even closer to him, “Soleil looks just like you; she has your hair and eyes. Arc’s hair is darker, but it makes the green in his eyes stand out even more. And Rowan… well, Rowan doesn’t have any hair yet, but he’ll grow into it eventually. Sol reminds me so much of you in the way she….”

She kept going, talking about each one of their children in great depth, describing even the most minute details to her husband as he listened intently. He traced patterns on her back as he listened to her, loving the sound of her voice. The way she talked about their children with such adoration and genuine love brought him so much joy. So, that’s what the feeling was before, wasn’t it?

Iggy may not have been able to see, and he wouldn’t deny that this frustrated him at times. But he was able to feel. Able to think. Able to understand people at a level people rarely venture to understand. And he was okay with this.

Imagine Thorin falling in love with you at first sight


Above is the link to a video of Master Zhang Xue Chao and his student Jen Dart performing in the art of swordplay using the well-respected Wudang sword. I had to do quite a bit of research for this, so that I would be able to represent and portray the beautiful history of the sword and techniques correctly, so I hope you all enjoy!

When the sparring scene comes along, it will be very similar to the video, so be sure to watch it!

Originally posted by blurryfandoms

It had been nearly four years since the kingdom of Erebor had been successfully reclaimed, the sons of Durin thankfully making it through. Thorin had been coronated, finally elevated to his rightful position as King under the mountain. The only thing he was missing was a Queen to rule by his side.

The problem with this was, he didn’t really want one. Not that he was stingy with his power, but that no dwarrowdam residing in the Iron Hills, Blue Mountains, nor Erebor was acceptable, much less worthy.

Thorin had hosted several balls and galas, as a way of meeting as many dams as possible, but every single one of them seemed attracted to him only for his looks or power. Quite distasteful. Besides all that, he didn’t feel a connection to any of them as his One. 

So, the King had given up on a search for a bride.

He discussed his frustration with his confidant and best friend, Dwalin, knowing that the warrior would not ridicule him for what he would bring to his attention. 

“In all honesty, my King,” Dwalin said with a smirk, ”perhaps you should search for your One outside of the kingdom.”

Thorin merely shook his head, a heavy frown on his face.


You had fallen into Tolkien’s world a couple years ago, after simply tripping over the root of an old tree in the park. You’d landed in the middle of nowhere, and had had to wander around until you found civilization.

The rebuilt city of Dale was where you ended up, and you immediately went to searching for someone who could tell you where you were, where you could get food and shelter, things like that. The curiosity that was you ended up drawing the attention of King Bard, previously Bard the bowman. 

He had felt a sting of pity towards you, as you were in obvious need of help, and you reminded him of his daughters, particularly his eldest. Sigrid was only a few years younger than you, so the two of you bonded pretty quickly. 

Bard took you in, and helped you get work at a small kiosk in Dale’s market. Everything was great for a while, but you constantly felt like something was missing. You were used to a boring 9-5 job and not having much else to look forward to but for many years you had had sword fighting lessons. 

Your teacher, Master Zhang Xue Chao, had taught you the ways of the Wudang sword for 10+ years, and you had quickly mastered the art. Your daily practicing was something you missed greatly, and eventually you asked Bard to help you forge the weapon you loved so much. He did, and made one for himself as well, and you decided to teach him how to swordfight the way you knew.


Thorin strolled along the plains outside Dale, Dwalin right by his side as his bodyguard, should anything happen. They exchanged a few words here and there, but they kept it to a minimum so that Thorin could have time and silence to think about how he would deal with the absence of a queen.

The King under the mountain looked up across the span of ground to see two figures, a woman in a red dress with a strange looking sword, and a figure who was farther away, walking towards her on the light dusting of snow.

“’S that Bard?” Dwalin grunted, and Thorin nodded.

“I think so.”

Bard finally met the woman toe to toe, and they began to spar, their feet moving in the most beautiful dance of swordsmanship either of the dwarf warriors had ever seen. Every movement was fluid, precise, and calculated.

After a while of fighting, Bard managed to disarm the woman, her sword clattering to the ground. He walked off, and she slowly bent to pick up her sword, walking off in the opposite direction towards Dale. 

“Who is that woman?” Thorin asked incredulously, his eyes trained on her flowing (h/c) hair.

Dwalin shrugged, “Why don’t you find out?” He figured this mystery woman was Thorin’s One, as he had never in his life seen his best friend look at anyone the way he was looking at her now.

Thorin nodded, and briskly took off in the receding woman’s direction, hoping with all of his soul that he might be able to meet her.

He caught up to her once the both of them entered the city of Dale, and attempted to tap her shoulder without startling her. “Excuse me, miss?”

Surprisingly enough, she didn’t whip around or jump or squeal, but merely turned back towards him. “Yes?”

“I uh…I..um-” For once in his life, Thorin Oakenshield had no words. The beauty of the woman up close was absolutely breathtaking, like nothing he had ever seen, in neither elf nor dwarrowdam. 

“Is there something you’d like to say or are you just going to stare at me like I have three eyes, Your Majesty?” she asked saucily with a hint of a smirk on her cherry red lips.

Thorin blinked and found his ability to speak once more. “My apologies, madam, I was..simply taken aback by your astounding beauty.”

The audacious statement caused a heated blush to rise up her cheeks, and she lowered her head with a smile. “Well I must say, that is very flattering of you, Your Highness,” she murmured.

Thorin grinned; it was nice to see his words were having a positive affect on her. “I also wish to tell you that your swordsmanship is incredible, unlike anything I have ever seen,” he continued, much calmer now.

“Well, thank you,” she looked up again, and put her hand on Thorin’s, which was still rested on her shoulder. “Nice to know I have an admirer…even if it is from across an empty field, watching me spar.”

They both busted out into laughter, and began to walk throughout the market together, talking and getting to know each other.

Many months went by, and Thorin finally worked up the courage to tell her that she was his One. (Y/n) pounced on the opportunity to tell him that she felt the same way, and they immediately put in courting braids and beads.

Not three months later the couple married, and (Y/n) became the Queen under the mountain, never once regretting her decision. 

I guess happy ever after does exist after all.


“As daughters of the Tsar, cloistered at Tsarskoe Selo without a normal range of friends and acquaintances, the four young Grand Duchesses were even closer to each other than most sisters. Olga, the eldest, was only six years older than Anastasia, the youngest. In adolescence, the four proclaimed their unity by choosing for themselves a single autograph, OTMA, derived from the first letter of each of their names. As OTMA, they jointly gave gifts and signed letters. They shared dresses and jewels. On one occasion, Baroness Buxhoeven, one of the Empress’s ladies-in-waiting, was dressing for a ball when the sisters decided that her jewels were inappropriate. Tatiana rushed off and reappeared with some ruby brooches of her own. When the Baroness refused them, Tatiana was surprised. “We sisters always borrow from each other when we think the jewels of one will suit the dress of the other,” she said.”

Nicholas and Alexandra by Robert K Massie

Approval (Itachi/Sakura)

I went through a period of writing AU’s and this was one of them. Also this is not proofread so forgive.

Feel free to send me your Sakura requests!


“Itachi you are twenty six years old and the council are pushing for your marriage and I can no longer deny their request.” The uninterested expression on his eldest sons face only frustrated Fugaku. He slammed his fist onto the table that separated them. “You cannot ignore this son!”

“I see no reason for any kind of union father.” Itachi turned his gaze to the older Uchiha. “I can rule our people without the need of a woman.”

“Be as that may, the title of crowned princess and future queen is not an empty role Itachi. Your claim on the throne is weakened and I will not accept my brothers insane son as the future king of the land.”

Keep reading

Jamie Sawyer-Danvers

I wrote a fic off of your Adrian AU. I’m a trans boy myself and I love him so much. Enjoy this fic! It’s 3.5k words, and I tried to keep it as short as possible. I’d be happy to write more in this AU if people wanted it.

Maggie Sawyer had dealt with kids her whole life.

Blue Springs, Nevada definitely lacked good sex education due to its mostly conservative population, leading to a rather high teen pregnancy rate. Maggie knew at least three girls in her grade who had more than one kid under the age of eighteen. In addition to trying to help all of her colleague’s kids, she babysat constantly for her little cousins, and there were tons of them. Sawyer family reunions ended up filling her family’s barnhouse, and then some. Being the eldest cousin, not only was she the primary role model, she also was on diaper duty, the main source of entertainment, cooked for them, and bathed them.

Maggie Sawyer could take care of a kid.

And she had no doubt her wife could, too.

Alex Danvers had helped her sister when she came to Earth, and taught her everything she needed to know about being a regular citizen on the planet. Sure, it was different from infants and smaller children, but it still was noteworthy.

When Adrian Rodriguez had come into their lives, Maggie and Alex knew their family was expanding. Maggie knew he wasn’t a son to them; he had loving parents. She regarded him as more of a little brother, and she cared for him immensely. Adrian had become one of the closest people in her life (besides Alex, of course). Alex’s little sister Kara had formed a close bond with Maggie, as well, even inviting her to the sacred sister nights occasionally.

Maggie knew that she’d happily welcome another person to her little family in National City. But she didn’t expect it to be so soon.

Maggie was excited to go home after a strenuous week. Working with the NCPD was enough stress, but the added partnership with the DEO exhausted her. A weekend of sleep and being with her wife sounded like the perfect remedy. She knew Alex was beyond tired as well, and was probably already at home waiting for her with a bath and a drink (non-alcoholic, of course. Maggie had banned all alcohol from their home).

What Maggie came home to was something she’d never expected to see.

When she opened the door, the first thing she heard was a cry. A baby’s cry. Maggie dropped her bag, closed the door, and quickly followed the noise.

In the bedroom stood Alex Danvers, in all her glory, holding a baby, red-faced with tears, only wearing a diaper.

Alex looked up and saw that Maggie was home, and heaved a sigh of relief. “Maggie, can you take him from me?” Without waiting for an answer, Alex shoved the baby in Maggie’s arms. “I need to call Lucy Lane and set up a meeting about what to do with him from a legal standpoint. I’ll go out and buy diapers and formula and some clothes at Target really quick.”

Maggie was dumbfounded when Alex quickly exited the room, leaving her alone with the infant in her arms, whose cries only got louder. Pushing past her confusion, Maggie let her maternal instincts take over.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. I’m here,” she murmured, her lips going on the baby’s head. She cradled him (she assumed the baby was a boy, since Alex had said he. Maggie had yet to find out) and walked around, his head resting against her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. His crying settled down eventually, and the quiet was bliss to Maggie’s ears. She hummed a soft lullaby that she remembered put her little cousins to sleep, and it wasn’t long before the baby was dozing off.

She carefully moved to the couch and wrapped a blanket around herself and the baby, who was still resting on her chest. She ran one finger across his chubby cheek, and she smiled. She had no clue who this baby was, or who he belonged to, but she knew that he was something special.

Alex returned half an hour later, carrying two huge boxes of diapers, and balancing a whole thing of formula and a few bottles and five baby onesies on top of it. She tried standing up to help her wife with the load, but she was quickly reminded of the weight on her chest.

“Hey, Alex?”

“Yeah, babe?” Alex responded, settling everything on the coffee table.

“Why is there a baby in my arms?”

Alex turned around to face her. “Kara found him in a crate in the back of a truck she was chasing that was carrying alien weapons. Surprisingly, no trauma or injuries, but we haven’t found a home for him. We’ve been called him Baby Doe for standard procedure. I’ve been taking care of him all day at the DEO, and I just couldn’t let him stay overnight there. J’onn let me take him home. I’ll bring him back tomorrow. Lucy’s coming in and is going to get some of her DCF friends to find his home.”

Maggie was suddenly washed by a feeling of jealousy. She didn’t even know this kid. But hearing how Kara found him made her blood boil. She wanted to keep him safe, and she knew that was here, with her and Alex.

Maggie stood up, carefully supporting the baby. “I’ll bathe him and change him. Can you make dinner?” Alex nodded, and Maggie made way to the bathroom.

She figured the baby was about two months old, and definitely couldn’t be in the bath. So she carefully lied him down on the towel she had grabbed, and quickly stripped. She set up the bath to a lukewarm temperature, making sure the water level was low. After she removed his diaper (confirming that the baby was a him. For now, at least. That could change in the future, she thought), she cradled him back in her arms and sat in the tub.

Maggie had never bathed someone this young before, and she didn’t know how difficult it was. The baby clearly did not like the water, and she kept trying to calm him as she took a little cup of water and washed his hair and body with it. He calmed eventually, clearly enjoying the feel of his warm skin against Maggie’s cooler skin. After five minutes or so, Maggie drained the tub and wrapped herself up in a towel, while using a smaller hand towel for the baby. She threw on an old baggy shirt and Alex’s boxers, and put a fresh diaper and a onesie Alex picked out (a little grey onesie with koalas on it) on him.

When she came back into the kitchen, still holding the baby, the aroma of mac and cheese flooded her. “Smells good, babe.”

Alex turned around to see her wife and smiled. “Glad to see you and Doe are all clean. How was the bath?”

Maggie laid another kisses upon the baby’s head. “He was a little scared at first, but he’s all good now.” Alex just stared at her, her countenance undecipherable. “What?”

“Motherhood suits you, Maggie.”

Maggie couldn’t help the smile that Alex’s comment pulled out of her, showcasing her dimples. “We haven’t had the kid conversation yet.”

“Well, what better time than now? I prepared a bottle for him, just let me take him―”

“Can I feed him?”

Alex looked shocked. “Aren’t you tired?”

“We’re taking care of an infant. Tiredness doesn’t stop us.”

“Maggie, do you want kids?”

Maggie looked at her wife in surprise. Alex had met her huge family, and she knew that Maggie loved children. She didn’t know why Alex was asking that. “Of course I do, Alex!”

Alex smiled, “So do I.”

Maggie looked down at the baby in her arms. He was starting to get a little fussy from hunger. She took a seat at the table, and adjusted him into the best position for feeding. The baby leaned forward and starting mouthing around her breasts, and Maggie felt a wave of sadness hit her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything in there for you, baby.”

The baby only responded by letting out a loud wail, and caught his mouth on the fabric of Maggie’s shirt. She gently moved his head away, and moved to let the baby suckle on her on her index finger.

Alex quickly heated up the bottle of formula she prepared, and brought it over. Maggie thanked Alex quietly, removed her finger, and brought the bottle to the baby’s mouth. He happily accepted the bottle, and drank quickly. Maggie let out a little giggle at how his tiny hands tried to reach to how the bottle.

Maggie didn’t notice Alex staring at her happily, in an almost dreamlike trance. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

Maggie felt a blush spread across her face. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Alex offered to take the baby for the next hour while Maggie took care of herself. But Maggie already felt lost without the baby.

What the hell, Sawyer? Don’t get attached. He’s leaving tomorrow.

But some feeling deep down told her that this baby needed her. And she’d be here for him.

Maggie felt herself nodding off to sleep when her wife came into the bedroom, holding the baby.

“He’s sleeping with us tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“Where else would he sleep?”

Alex didn’t respond, but cuddled into Maggie’s side, cradling the baby to her chest. Maggie smiled and held her arms out, so she could hold him. Alex didn’t fully relinquish him, but instead balanced him in between the two of them. The baby didn’t seem fussy, and snuggled right into the two of them.

Maggie’s heart grew as she imagined Alex and her having kids. She knew Alex would be a perfect mother, and she wanted to raise children with her.

“Do you think we can have that conversation about having kids now?” Alex asked.

“I think we both know we want kids, baby,” Maggie giggled.

Alex leaned over to give her a soft kiss, keeping in mind the position of the baby. “I want to adopt at least one kid. If you wanna have kids biologically through IVF, we could do that, too. Though I’d really rather not carry a kid. I don’t want to lose this gorgeous figure.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you, Alexandra Danvers-Sawyer?”

“Every day, Margaret Ellen Danvers-Sawyer.”

Maggie Sawyer [11:34 AM]: Adrian?

Adrian Rodriguez [11:35 AM]: Yeah?

Maggie Sawyer [11:35 AM]: I need you to come over. I’ve got the weekend off and I just need you.

Adrian Rodriguez [11:36 AM]: Be there in 30.

“So, you’re telling me, you took care of a baby for the night, and you got attached?”


“Sounds like you, Detective Danvers-Sawyer,” Adrian let out a little laugh as he sat down on the couch next to Maggie. “Always looking out for the underdog.”

“I spent all of last night thinking about him. And thinking about how bad I want a baby with Alex.”

“Do you want to be pregnant?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. All I know is that I want that baby. I just―I don’t think he has a safe family. I have a hunch.”

“Your hunches usually are good.”

“The place they found him in, dear lord. I can’t let him go back to a place like that. And I  have seen how bad the foster system is. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Listen, Maggie. Go down to the DEO. I need to go grocery shopping since the only thing in my fridge right now is a half eaten burrito and probably expired milk. And I need to pick up my new testosterone bottle.”

Maggie rolled her eyes as she stood up to get her coat and bag. “College boys.”

Adrian couldn’t help but smile when she said boy. He knew that he passed as male full time now, but having his identity affirmed always brought the best sensation of euphoria.

“Love you, Maggie.”

“Love you too, kid.”

Alex had made sure Maggie had full clearance at the DEO, even before the NCPD teamed up with them. She wanted her wife to come visit her at anytime, and Maggie was grateful for that. It meant she could steal Alex in the middle of a slow day for a lunch date, or even just a quick kiss to cheer up her day.

Maggie could tell Alex wasn’t surprised when she saw her. Alex made her way over to Maggie, giving her a chaste kiss, and pulled back. “Baby Doe is in the lab. They’re testing to make sure that no alien substances from the weapons affected him.”

Maggie sighed. “Any update from DCF?”

“Lucy said they haven’t been able to locate any family that could take him. They ran his DNA in the system, and his parents were the ones smuggling the weapons. No extended family, grandparents are dead, no other siblings. They’re trying to find a foster home for him right now.”



“Can we foster him?”

“I was hoping you’d ask that.”

“So, how’s this going to work, Maggie?”

Adrian paced around the apartment, helping set up the crib that they bought. Alex, despite being one of the smartest people Maggie knew, could not assemble Ikea furniture to save her life.

“The crib is going to be in our room for a bit, but we’re going to clear the extra office space to make a nursery. Kara’s at work right now, but she’ll be coming over with some more supplies,” Maggie replied, bouncing the baby up and down.

“I meant the legal process.”

“Oh. Lucy’s got us covered. God bless her. Couple of check ups from DCF soon to make sure our home is a suitable environment. We got immediate custody because of our jobs in law enforcement.”

“What are you going to name him, Maggie?”

Alex walked into the room, carrying a tool box. “Still working on that one, Ade. This was really sudden, and the only thing we’ve ever named is our succulent who died last winter. It’s name was Jason.”

“What a lovely name,” Adrian laughed. His laughter suddenly trailed off, however, and he appeared to be deep in thought.

Maggie walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder, still making sure she was supporting the baby. “What’s going on, honey?”

“It’s nothing, Maggie.”

Alex joined them and put her arms around Maggie, kissing the side of her head quickly, and then kissing the baby’s head. “It’s clearly not nothing, Adrian. You’re sad all of a sudden.”

“It’s just that―will I be the baby’s uncle? Do I count as his family?”

As if prompted, the baby moved to nuzzle his head into Adrian. Maggie smiled. “I think he just said yes, Adrian.”

“And besides, why wouldn’t you be? You’re our family, and well, he’s our family now, too,” Alex said.

The door opened suddenly, revealing a grinning Kara. “Does this mean I’m Aunty Kara now?”

Alex, Maggie, and Adrian couldn’t help but laugh.

“Of course, Little Danvers.”

Kara shrieked and ran across the room, holding open her arms. “Let me hold my nephew!”

Maggie held the baby closer to her chest. “Nuh uh, Danvers. You’re building the crib. You have the strength, after all.”

Adrian already knew Kara was Supergirl. It was quite obvious, after all. The glasses were a ridiculous disguise he said, which Maggie and Alex completely agreed with.

Kara pouted, but Maggie knew it was all in good fun. “I better get cuddles with him soon, Maggie.”

Adrian nudged Kara. “I call cuddling him first!”

“No fair! I call cuddling him first!”

Alex and Maggie couldn’t help laughing at the little family they’d built. They had never felt this amount of love before, and they knew having the baby in their lives was going to be the best decision they ever made.

“Alex, baby?”

“Yeah?” Alex responded, pausing laying kisses on her wife’s neck. The baby was with Kara and Adrian right now, and Alex and Maggie had a few minutes to themselves. And they weren’t going to waste that time.”

“Can we talk about the baby? The one who is now ours, and hopefully will be permanently?”

Alex sighed and moved away from Maggie’s neck, removing her hands from her breasts, too. “Was my attempt to seduce you not enough?”

Maggie laughed and kissed Alex’s nose. “I do love your obsession with my tits, Ally, but I think Kara’s trying really hard to block us out right now,” she motioned towards the door, where Kara was on the other side. “Besides, I can’t stop thinking about this.”

Alex rearranged herself so she was sitting next to Maggie, and laced their fingers together. “He needs a name, first of all.”

“I have a name in mind, and I think you know what it is.”

“After your cousin? The one who died of cancer last year?”

“The world could definitely do with another Jamie Sawyer, don’t you think?”

“Danvers-Sawyer, I think you mean.”

Maggie leaned her head on Alex’s shoulder. “I’m so in love with you.”

Alex kissed the top of her head. “I’m in love with you, too.”

“We have a baby.”

“That we do.”

“We’re going to be the best parents ever.”

“That we are.”

A loud crash was heard from the other side of the house, and the baby―Jamie started crying.

“Don’t worry! You guys keep being adorably sappy!” Kara yelled, which only prompted Jamie to cry harder.

Maggie sighed and stood up. “Motherly duties call.”

It had been a month since Jamie came to live with them, and it was the best month of their lives. They had applied for maternity leave, and each got three months. Adrian and Kara came and visited frequently, showering him in gifts and love. J’onn came to visit his grandchild a few times, and couldn’t help but show his actual emotions (“He’s gorgeous, Agent Danvers. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”). James and Winn showed up with some more supplies for them, and Alex and Maggie felt so blessed that their life had become this.

Adrian was over currently and was reading Jamie a book while they sat on the couch. Alex was making dinner, and Maggie found herself having a moment of peace, for once, sitting in a reclining chair. She and Alex had only been intimate once since Jamie came, and that was because he had to spend a few hours at the DEO for a final checkover, and Maggie needed the distraction. She wanted to go exercise, or read, or do something productive, but all she could do was stare at Adrian holding her baby.

She remembered the condition she found Adrian in. All she wanted was for him to be okay, and to feel like he had a home. And now, here he was, holding his nephew and kissing his head and playing with him and being the best uncle of all time, no matter how much Winn claimed that he was. She didn’t notice the tears falling down her face until Adrian spoke.

“You okay, Maggie?”

“Why wouldn’t I be, Ade?”

“You’re crying.”

Maggie brought her hands up to her face, and sure enough, they were wet with her tears. “Huh. Didn’t notice.”

“Is anything wrong, Maggie?”

“No, there’s nothing wrong, Adrian. It’s just… I didn’t expect to ever feel this happy. To have this amazing of a family. You’re the best uncle to my baby. I have a baby. And he’s the most well behaved kid of all time and I love him so much. And I love my wife so much. And I love you so much, Adrian.” She got up and sat next to Adrian pulling him and Jamie into a hug, kissing both their heads. “When you have a kid, I hope that kid knows I’m going to be the favorite aunt.”

“You’re going to have to fight me for that title, Danvers-Sawyer!” Alex yelled from the kitchen.

“I know a way we can fight.”

Adrian got up, still holding Jamie. “And that’s my cue to take my nephew out for a bit. We’ll be at Kara’s. Have fun, you two.”

“Oh, we will,” Maggie smirked.

“Maggie?” Alex rolled over, bringing the blanket up to cover their naked bodies.

“Yeah, baby girl?” Maggie wrapped her arms around her wife.

“You’re the best mother ever.”

“Have you seen yourself?”

“When Jamie’s a bit older, I want more kids.”

“As long as you keep changing the diapers, I’m on board.”

Alex slapped her wife’s arm playfully. “I’m retracting my previous statement about you being the best mother ever. It’s clearly me, babe.”

Maggie sighed and cuddled more into Alex. “Jamie has the best mothers in the world.”

“That he does.”

“And the best aunt.”

“Kara is an excellent aunt.”

“And the best uncle.”

Alex hummed in agreement and rested her head on Maggie’s breast. A pregnant pause fell upon the two of them, until Alex broke the silence. “I love our family.”

“Me, too, Danvers-Sawyer. Me too.”

You Chose Them

Originally posted by justjensenanddean

Characters: Y/n (MALE READER), Dean, Sam, Mary, Lisa and Ben (mentioned)

Pairing: No Pairing    Dean x Y/n (father-son relationship)

Warnings: Pure angst, abandonment, hatred, lotta swearing and degrading language, sadness, feeling unwanted, loneliness, just literally all sadness and angst everywhere. 

Word Count: 3270

Summary: Dean runs into Y/n after he disappeared almost five years ago. Mary and Sam decide to find out why he left his dad.

A/N: Ok, so I’ve had this idea for a while and decided time to write it. Became hella long, my apologies. Also, a lot of swearing and kinda talking trash about certain characters. If u like them two, well, nothing I can do. Just don’t hate on me, cos I can’t be asked with all that. Other than that, it’s purely angst, but I hope u liked it.

Tagged Peeps: @waywardsons-imagines @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @sallyp-53@supernatural-jackles @d-s-winchester @winchesterreid @teamfreewill-imagine @deanscherrypie@helvonasche @kaitlynnlovegood @notnaturalanahi @kittenofdoomage @wayward-mirage@riversong-sam @nerdflash @miss-miep @impala-dreamer @mypeopleskillsarerusty0203 @greek-geek481 @chelsea072498 @tttiiigggeeerrrsss @deals-with-demons @plaidstiel-wormstache @impalaimagining @deathtonormalcy56



The teenager turned around to see the man he once saw as his father stood there, his brother behind him, both shocked that they’d finally found y/n.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Y/n rolled his eyes, not wanting to listen to Dean’s bullshit.

He began walking past them, figuring Dean and Sam would probably be able to take care of the bodies themselves.

“I don’t think so”.

Dean grabbed y/n’s arm before he could pass them, pulling him back.

“W-where have you been?” he asked, his voice filled with sadness and a little anger.

“None of your business, Dean”, he spat, brushing past them both and the woman who stood there, watching the scene in front of her, not understanding what was happening.

Keep reading

Imagine you and Dean acting as a couple for a hunt and Sam becoming jealous.

“So what…you like him better or something?” Sam spat. What would be the difference if you acted to be a couple with him? How would that screw up the hunt?

“Sam, quit being ridiculous,” you laughed. “Of course not.” Now it was Dean’s turn to looked offended. “I like you both equally.”

“Then why are you so against me being your partner?”

“I’m not! This was Dean’s idea! Chew him out! Not me!” You knew that was a lie. Well, half of it was anyways. You didn’t want to act like you were with Sam because it would be nothing but torture to you. Acting out your dream and knowing it wouldn’t last but for one night would kill you. Besides, he would be too much of a distraction.

“Oh, trust me, he already has,” Dean scoffed. He opened his mouth as if he was about to add on to his sentence, but he closed it just as quick. “It’s really not that big of a deal, Y/n. We can tweak the plan if it’s bothering Sam that much.” The look of amusement on the eldest Winchester’s face only made red sneak onto your cheeks.

“Let’s just keep it the way it is.”

Sam’s jaw hit the floor. He had had enough. Almost knocking the chair over as he stood up, he pointed his finger in yours and Dean’s direction. “Fine! But you better not kiss!”