falls into her dimples

Glow (Biadore/Trixya) 1/4 - Houdini

A/N: hey y'all! So I currently have this fic in the works as well and thought I might as well submit the first part! This is a soulmate au (I fucking live for these), and the premise is that after you and your soulmate say “I love you” to each other, your bodies glow with an aura for a few seconds (so any times the queens have said it don’t exist in this world). The time is the present day, however I wanted to work in the jealous Adore/Trixie idea as well. she/her pronouns for in drag, he/him/they (adore) out of drag. It might be a mess but so am I so buckle up folks!

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Post-its and Paperclips April Fool’s

A/N: Fun little update for this silly holiday. Happy April Fool’s!

{ ffn } { ao3 }

She’s going to kill him.

Robin’s sense of humor, the joy that he gets out of the simple everyday pleasures of life is one of the things that Regina has come to love most about him. Embraces the way that he’s able to draw those light, breathy laughs from her or make her grin until her cheeks ache. But today, she’s going to kill him.

There are post-it notes spread over every available surface of her office. They cover every inch of her desk, her monitor, the back of her desk chair. A glance toward her tackboard reveals that he’s decorated the entire thing with them as well, a cheesy bright pink post-it smiley face interlaced between the bland, pale yellow colored ones.

He’s a child. Clearly. It takes Regina a minute to even comprehend what she’s looking at before she realizes the date. April 1st. Of course. She should have expected it of him. Hadn’t she listened to him and Roland plot and scheme at how they were going to prank Uncle John only a few nights ago? At the time, Regina hadn’t thought anything of it. Had actually found the image of the burly man gagging on toothpaste filled oreo cookies and his soda exploding in his face quite entertaining in fact. The man’s positively addicted to coke.

She’s not feeling as amused now that she’s faced with an office covered with paper, hardly any surface visible.

Irritation sizzles through her has she stalks into the room and drops her purse to the floor, hastily grabbing at the tiny paper squares while muttering curses under her breath. Stupid April Fool’s. Stupid charmer and his damn adorable dimples. Her stupid heart for falling for the irritating man. He never would have dared pull such a stunt before they were dating. As she rips the paper from her monitor, she notices that he’s written little notes to her on several of the squares.

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baker151910  asked:

"Ginny, will you join me for a dance?" Trevor asked her at a club. (Mike is standing next to her and acts all protective and it Ginny is turned out by Mike's jealously.)

Ginny eyes grow wide at his question, a sincere look staring back at her.  She had no intention of dancing with this man, the past needing to stay in the past.  They can share pleasantries, but anything past “good game” was unnecessary.

As he stood in front of her, eyes eager, prepared to lay on the charm if she said no, the same way he’d gotten her the first time.  But she knew better this time.  She was no longer the naive minor league player living in Texas and in desperate need of human contact.  

Trevor had been fun, but their relationship had been built on a lie, and that wasn’t something she was interested in…boyfriends that blatantly disregarded her wishes.

She moves to open her mouth, smartly declining his offer when Mike, who had been standing beside her, moves himself almost directly in front of her, shielding Ginny from Trevor’s gaze, that seemed to be obviously traveling over her at this point.

“This your new guard dog?” Trevor jokes, the gruff look that Mike was sending at him not so much terrifying the younger man but amusing him.

“Mike,” she warns, grabbing onto his arm, her short nails still finding purchase in his skin and squeezing.

He doesn’t even hiss at the gesture, instead steeling himself even further in front of her.

“I think we’re good here,” he grunts out, but Ginny is seething at this point, practically pushing him away from in front of her.  Eventually dropping her hand from his arm, before slinking between the men vying for her attention.

“Maybe you should let her speak,” Trevor offers, his confidence rubbing Ginny the wrong way.

The men both step in, almost squishing her in between them, their faces dangerously close to her and each other.

She can feel the angry heat coming off of Mike, and she turns her back to Trevor, instead focusing her eyes on Mike, her hand coming out to grab his chin, focusing his glare at her.

His eyes flicker with recognition at the seriousness of the situation, the annoyed way her brows furrow when she’s particularly frustrated with him.

“Back off,” she angrily whispers at him, and even though the music is loud, she knows he can make out what she’s saying, having become an expert at reading her ticks, every movement a telling piece of the puzzle.

He gives one more glance at Trevor, before turning and stalking off to find a chair at the bar.

Her head lowers, a deep sigh, thankful that at the very least that had been handled.

When she turns back around to Trevor, he’s wearing a satisfied grin as if he’d won.

“Wipe that grin off your face, I’m not dancing with you,” she bites at him.

His grows to confusion, and she just shakes her head.

“You wanted me to speak, right?  Well the answer is no,” she fires at him, throwing her hair out of her face as she leaves him in search of a sulking Mike.

She sidles up to him at the bar, having already started nursing a beer, which she quickly makes her own.

“I see caveman Mike has graced us tonight,” she says with a swig of his, now her, drink.

He doesn’t acknowledge her comment, instead glancing over her shoulder, as if searching for something.

“Where is he?” He asks.

“Trevor?  I sent him packing,” she says with a grin into the bottle.

“Ahh, so I was right,” he says with a satisfied grin of his own.

“No,” she says, her brows furrowing, and a hand coming out to smack his chest.  “I can handle myself, old man.  I don’t need the head of the geriatric department as a bodyguard, thanks.”

“Got it,” he says, his eyes never leaving her’s.

“Do you?” She asks with a gesture of her hand, flinging up in a way that has he him fighting back a smile.

He just nods at her, before signaling the bartender for another beer.

“Plus, I don’t want to dance, my back hurts, long day,” she explains with a dimpled smile, her excuse falling flat to Mike, knowing full well that was not the case.

He grabs his beer, bringing it up to knock the neck of her own drink.

“Welcome to the geriatric department, Rookie.”

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my ask box and I will write the next five sentences.

Random Pezberry Thought of the Day #97

Rachel traced along Santana’s nose before moving to her cheek, her fingertips sliding along the defined line.

Santana’s lips turned up. “You trying to tickle me?” she asked, keeping her eyes closed.

Exhaling a laugh, Rachel gazed down at her, shivering as her hair fell down her bare shoulder at the motion. “No,” she smiled, continuing her exploration by stroking along Santana’s jawline.

When Rachel didn’t go on, Santana hmmed, turning her head to quickly press her lips against Rachel’s fingers. The giggle that got her made her open her eyes, and she smiled directly into a warm gaze, rolling over to curl her arm around Rachel’s waist and pull her back under the covers with her. “That’s better,” she sighed, tangling their naked legs together, her hand sliding down Rachel’s back; she smirked, “Now, are you gonna tell me what you were doing? Or am I gonna have to tease it out of you?”

Rachel pressed her hand to Santana’s chest, resting it there, her fingers curling in as the girl helpfully inhaled. “No,” she repeated, lifting her hand to draw it up Santana’s collarbone and neck, brushing dark, curly bangs from Santana’s forehead. She couldn’t stop smiling.


“I’m happy.”

Santana’s eyes softened. Her smirk gentled into a real, affectionate smile, and she leaned forward to press her lips to Rachel’s, kissing her softly. Moving away just enough to take in Rachel’s smile, she pulled her closer, and kissed her again. 

When Santana finally let the kiss end, Rachel giggled again, her fingers falling to trace one of Santana’s dimples that was now on full display. “Well?” she asked, almost expectantly, her tone barely hesitant.

Santana grinned, affectionately rolling her eyes, pecking Rachel’s lips once more before abruptly pushing up and over her. Feeling the bed covers fall to her waist as she waited for Rachel to finish the gasp she started as her back hit the bed, Santana laid more of her weight on her, pushing her hips in between her legs. “Me too.”

Rachel’s arms settled around her neck, pulling her more solidly down onto her. “You too, what?” she persisted, pretending to be indignant.

Santana slid her hands down Rachel’s hips and thighs, helping wrap her legs around her so their bodies pressed more firmly into each other. Humming contentedly at the warmth she felt, she smiled and kissed Rachel again. 

Rachel’s thumb brushed along her dimple again, her eyes incredibly warm. “What?”

Santana returned the tender look, pressing her cheek into the touch; her lips kissed Rachel’s palm as she spoke. “I’m happy, too.”

Sleepy Kisses and Sleepy Confessions, DIBS fanfiction

[[ Some quick fluff I wrote to take my mind off of things. I shared one version with Anna, so I thought I’d make another version. Just so it’s cleared up, DIBS is an acronym for my favorite RWBY ships: Wise Dragon, Ice Planet, Black Sun, and Shades of Red. ]]

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Close Enough

Peter Maximoff x Reader

Plot: Peter waking up next to the reader, thinking about how much he loves her.

Originally posted by marvelgifs

Cool morning breeze ruffled through Peter’s silver hair; the curtains on his window moving around gently, allowing sunlight to filter through in golden filaments.
His toes twitched, his leg outstretched outside of his pale blue quilt. He could feel the breeze tickling the space between his toes; the sensation made him stretch out his feet to get more comfortable.
His eyelids fluttered, dark lashes blinking away the remnants of a good, long sleep.
When he opened his eyes, he felt his heart leap.
(y/n) was breathing softly in her sleep; her lips softly parted as her hair pooled around her sleeping face. The morning light gave way to the curves and valleys of her cheekbones, the rise and fall of her chest.
Peter’s mouth sloped upwards, his dimples pressing against his pale cheeks. They’d fallen asleep together; her head against his chest, her cheek against his heart.
Pulling his hand above the blankets slowly and deliberately, Peter moved his palm onto the pillow, his head resting on the back of his hand.

Peter wasn’t sure he believed in heaven.
But this was close enough.

She Bit The Fruit

AN: Because when Paula @howeverlongs attacks with feels, I get lyrical.

This is also inspired by Joan Osborne’s song, “Lumina”.

Slightly (really slightly) nsfw.

Eve had to ask, Eve had to ask
What is wrong with this?
Here is the place, now is the time
Let’s invent the kiss

The suitcase feels so light in her hand, even though her clothes are practically crawling out of it on their own.

Her breath hitches as her fingertip hits the bell, its sound reverberating deep in her chest with words echoing against the membrane of her lungs;

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.

Her senses are on alert, hearing focused on locating him inside the mansion.

Soft strokes of brush against the canvass caress her earlobes just like his fingers always paint bone-deep touches on her skin.

They whisper;

It’s right, it’s right, it’s right.

It’s right to want him.

It’s not wrong.

Her knuckles tap against the door impatiently and the sound of him painting stops, replaced by the gust of wind as he rushes downstairs.

And in those short seconds, she’s back in Mystic Falls, waltzing in that night blue gown, dimples involuntarily blinding her to distraction.

She’s back against his chest, rich warm blood flooding her throat as she drinks in huge greedy gulps.

In Italy, soles of her feet digging into the hot sand as he fills her deep and hard.

In France, fleeting flicks of skin against skin and their fingers almost touch while they stroll Parisian alleys side by side.

In Brasil, ocean breeze grazing her sweat covered body as they lounge naked on the terrace, his skillful tongue licking promises along her neck.

Just like she flickered her tongue over the fruit but never really bit into it.

The door opens.

“Hello, Caroline,” he rasps, in that lilting melody of his and she closes her eyes for a second, tongue sweeping over her lips as if his greeting rested there and she wanted to taste it.

Oh, she craves to taste it.

“Klaus.” A whisper, and then, her mouth slant over his, hungry and seeking and they stagger back.

She’s splayed against the door, hand fisting in those sandy blond curls and their bodies are pressed flush against each other, molded as close as possible with their clothes still on.

Maybe for the very first time, Caroline notes all the undertones of his taste, spicy and hot and bittersweet. Klaus pulls to get a better angle and the kiss grows deeper, lips dancing and teeth clashing and there’s his hand burning a path down her spine and she’s out of breath she doesn’t really need and her fingers tremble over his belt buckle.

Her other hand rests on Klaus’ cheek and she can feel the dimple forming under it because as their kiss goes on, somehow he smiles while his crimson lips carve their joy in her skin.

You’re here, you’re here, you’re here.

And it feels so right.

They shed only what’s necessary, never ceasing to touch, to brush, to graze and when he finally thrusts deep into her wet quivering flesh, their mouths give out one moan.

Caroline cannot stop herself - she doesn’t want to - and so she bites, first slow and tender, only to sink herself hard, with her fangs coated in his blood as it sips gloriously into her waiting mouth.

And it tastes so right.

Their eyes meet, feral dark gaze that churns in her abdomen fixed on her as Klaus fills her to the hilt.

She comes just when his tongue gathers the blood that ran down her chin.

Allison- I’m Not

Request-  Imagine being the Alpha from a rival pack and you end up falling for Allison

A/N- Next up is a Liam imagine. 

You set your tray down at an empty table in the corner of the cafeteria, one that had a perfect view of the one where Scott and his pack were currently sitting. While you were supposed to be spying on all of them and figuring out what you could, there was only one girl you were currently worried about. Allison Argent was leaning across the table, laughing at something one of the guys, most likely Stiles, was saying. Her smile was bright and infectious as she laughed, and you could see the imprint of dimples on her cheeks.
You were so engrossed in her that you didn’t even notice your hair slipping into your food.
“Your hair’s in your macaroni,” a voice said in your ear, causing you to jump in surprise.
You looked over to see Aiden staring down at you, wearing that familiar cocky grin. “Were you staring at the hunter again?”
You quickly looked down and pulled the ends of your hair from the sticky substance on your tray, grabbing a napkin to wipe them down.
“Maybe,” you told him, eyeing him in disdain as he sat down next to you. “Am I not supposed to be?”
“In the way you are? No,” he told you, raising his eyebrows.
“Shut up,” you told him. “Like you’re not fooling around with Lydia.”
“Well if you were fooling around with Allison I wouldn’t object,” he told you. “But having sleepovers and falling in love with her dimples are both different from having sex in Coach’s office. And I’m pretty sure the first two are things Deucalion definitely doesn’t want.”
“I’m gaining her trust,” you insisted sullenly, but you knew Aiden could see right through you. “It’s none of your business how I get close to her.”
Aiden looked at you like he didn’t believe you, but before he could argue, you asked “Where is Ethan anyway?”
“With Danny,” he told you with a roll of his eyes. “You’re both getting too wrapped up in this for your own good.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to actually be happy for once,” you grumbled. “You know Deucalion is just going to make us leave again. Then it’s off to kill more people and do his dirty work for him.”
“Is that such a bad price to pay?” Aiden asked you quietly. “He saved our lives, Y/n.”
You shook your head. “To do what? Kill people for him? To make sure we can never be kids again?”
“Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “And you know we aren’t kids anymore.”
“We never were, were we?” you asked. “At least not to him.”
Aiden sighed. “I guess not. But there’s nothing we can do about it.”
You sighed too, pushing your tray away from you as you felt your appetite start to disappear. You thought back to the night you had met Ethan and Aiden, when you had both been running from a pack of territorial wolves. You were all orphans, you all had nowhere to go, and when you finally found a pack willing to take you in, it had only been as omegas. Deucalion had only been interested in Ethan and Aiden at first, in the power they could give him.
But they hadn’t always been as ruthless as Scott’s pack would like to believe, and they insisted that if they were going to kill the alpha, you would have to help them too. They had vouched for you and brought you with them into Deucalion’s alpha pack. You were an alpha too, a direct effect of the events of that night, but it wasn’t a choice you would have made if you had had another option.
You had been wondering a lot lately about what would have happened had you not followed the Twins, especially since meeting Allison. You had learned from a young age that hunters were vicious and cruel, but not her. From spending time with the Argent, you learned that her family had taken a break from hunting for a while and they didn’t do it the way they had in the past.
The tall brunette had changed your perspective and you were beginning to think that maybe you were on the wrong side. Of course, you had always known that your fellow alphas weren’t saints. You weren’t either, but spending time with Allison had made you feel like you could do a hell of a lot better than Deucalion and the others. You wanted the same thing for the Twins, but you knew you could never tell them how you really felt. Deucalion would kill you in the blink of an eye if he suspected any disloyalty, and you didn’t know if Ethan and Aiden would go that far to protect you.
Things hadn’t been the same between the three of you since the night Kali killed one of Derek’s pack members. Deucalion had intended to kill the blonde girl and the others slowly, but she had decided to fight back one night. You couldn’t blame her and you knew you would have done the same, but Kali hadn’t been so understanding.
No matter how hard you had insisted that killing the girl (whose name you later learned was Erica) wasn’t a good idea, the others hadn’t really cared what you thought. The Twins had held you down, insisting that they were doing it for you own good, and you couldn’t do anything as Kali snuffed out her life.
You didn’t know why you had fought so hard to try and save her. After all, you had seen plenty of people die and you had even helped to kill your alpha, but the girl had reminded you a little bit of yourself.
You didn’t know that much about her, but you knew that she had probably been thrust into this life, just like you. She was young too and she had probably seen enough violence to last a lifetime. You just hadn’t wanted her to end up like you, miserable and wasting her life, but she had ended up worse.
You brushed off the thoughts of the girl and picked up your tray, intending to head to one of the trashcans.
“Where are you going?” Aiden asked. “You barely ate anything.”
“I’m not hungry,” you told him.
“Well, I’ll eat it if you won’t,” he said, reaching for your tray.
You sighed and handed your tray back to him. “Fine. Here.”
“You shouldn’t go to Allison’s tonight,” Aiden advised as you snatched your bag from the ground.
“And why is that?” you asked him.
“Just some advice,” he told you.
You huffed and tightened the bag on your shoulder, casting one last glance toward Allison’s table. “I don’t want your advice.”
Aiden shook his head as you walked away, wondering what the hell your problem was. Ever since Kali had killed Erica and you had started going to school at Beacon Hills, you had been different. It wasn’t like you were ever that enthusiastic about the alpha pack to begin with, but he could tell something had changed, and as he watched you walk away, he knew your new attitude had everything to do with Allison.
“Hey, Y/n!”
You looked to your right as you walked through the cafeteria, only to see Allison herself calling out to you with a smile on her face. One look at her warm brown eyes had the bad mood Aiden had put you in instantly lifting.
“Hey,” you told her as she walked up. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to tell you that I don’t think the sleepover tonight would be a good idea,” she said reluctantly.
“Oh,” you said softly.
“It’s not anything you did,” she told you hastily, noticing the expression on your face. “We can definitely reschedule, I just remembered that I promised my dad we could hang out tonight. Things have been hard for him…for both of us since my mom died. I’m really sorry, but I hope you can understand…”
“Of course,” you told her. “I totally get it. Have fun tonight.”
“Thanks,” she told you, that beaming grin replacing itself on her face. “I’ll see you later, then?”
“Yeah, definitely,” you breathed.
You felt your chest tightening as you watched her walk away, but it wasn’t in a good way. Her tone was genuine when she told you the cancellation wasn’t because of you, but you couldn’t help but hear the skip in her heartbeat when she mentioned her plans that night. You guessed she really wasn’t spending time with her father, but you never would have confronted her about it.
She was probably doing something with Scott and the others, you realized. Something that most likely involved plotting against Deucalion and the others, and, like it or not, you. It didn’t matter if she had genuinely told you that she trusted you, because you knew her friends never would. No matter how much you wished for things to be different, you were still a part of the alpha pack, and that meant you were their enemy.
You stood there for a few seconds until you suddenly felt the uncomfortable tingle of someone’s eyes on you. You looked over to see Aiden staring at you from his seat with that familiar “I told you so” look on his face. You narrowed your eyes as you looked into his brown ones and shook your head in annoyance.
He knew how you felt about Allison. Any idiot would, purely because you hadn’t even tried to hide it. You just hoped she would never be close enough to your other pack members for them to figure it out. You knew that if they did, they wouldn’t hesitate to use her against you, or you against her. If you could help it, you were going to make sure she was safe.

“Why are we here?” you muttered to Aiden as you followed Deucalion and Kali into the abandoned bank.
The alphas were using the empty building as a sort of homebase to keep Derek Hale’s beta and sister locked up, and they had used it to hold Isaac before he had escaped. Deucalion had been upset, but he had figured that with two other werewolves to torture, losing one beta wasn’t a huge loss. What he didn’t know was that when you had caught the young mercenary leading him out of the bank, you had chosen to show them the quickest way out instead of turning them in.
You knew he suspected someone had helped Isaac and you hoped he didn’t suspect you, but if you were being realistic, you were number one on his list. He already didn’t like you and you knew it. That much was evident by his response.
“We’re here,” he announced before Ethan or Aiden could answer you. “To make sure that our guests are comfortable for the full moon tonight. It shouldn’t take long, but if you’re that impatient, I suggest you wait outside.”
You were silent as you froze, pausing in the middle of the large bank lobby. Deucalion had stopped in front of you and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he was angry. Yeah, he definitely knew you had helped Isaac.
Before you could even think of an apology that would mean nothing to him, he spoke again.
“Y/n,” he stated. “That wasn’t an offer. It was an order.”
“Yes, sir,” you told him, slowly backing away as Kali smirked at you over her shoulder. She had never really liked you.
The Twins cast a few nervous glances at you, but you just shook your head and headed down the hall. You turned a corner and walked toward the back exit, all the way on the other side of the bank. As you turned down the third dark hallway, you started to question why you hadn’t just left the way you came in. Just as you were blaming it on your haste to leave the others behind, you began to hear footsteps coming toward you.
You blinked, wondering if Ethan or Aiden had come looking for you, but these footsteps were too light to belong to the twins and they definitely weren’t Kali’s. You froze as a shadow came around the corner and you quickly grabbed its arm, but as soon as your fingers touched skin, an arm lashed out at you.
You gasped and quickly blocked the blow, which was quickly followed by another one. You spent a few seconds parrying blows and trying to land a few of your own, before you finally grabbed the shadowy blur by the arms and pinned it against the wall.
Now that your senses weren’t caught up in the blur of movement and darkness, you realized that you knew the intruder. At any other moment you might have been happy to see her, but the fact that she was there at the particular moment caused fear to constrict your chest.
“Allison?” you breathed.
“Y/n?” she asked, sounding equally shocked.
“Oh god,” you told her. “You can’t be here.”
“Why?” she demanded. “What are you planning?”
“It’s not what I’m planning!” you whispered frantically. “It’s Deucalion. And he’s still here with the others! You have no idea what’s happening!”
“Then tell me what’s happening,” she hissed. “Y/n, I don’t care what the others say. I know you don’t want to be with them!”
“Shh,” you hushed her. “Allison, please. I like you. I really like you, but you can’t be here.”
“Why?” she asked. “Y/n, please just tell me what’s-”
She froze at the sound of your gasp and when she looked into your eyes she saw genuine fear in them. What Allison didn’t understand was that it wasn’t fear for yourself, but fear for her, and all because of the several steps of footsteps you heard coming closer.
“They’re coming,” you whispered, grabbing her wrist and gently pulling her down the hall. “Hide in that closet over there. It’s got bleach in it. Pour it down to cover your scent and…and try not to look in the corner.”
You opened the door and gently pushed her inside. “Come out when you hear fighting.”
“What?” the brunette asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just, please, do it,” you begged her. “ And I’m sorry you got mixed up this.”
You began to shut the door, but Allison reached out to stop it with her palm. You stared at her questioningly, until she leaned forward and smile. “I’m not.”
You blinked as she reached forward and grabbed you by the shirt, pulling your lips onto hers in a quick kiss. You could have stayed there forever, reveling in the softness of her lips and the fact that she smelled like fresh detergent and something else uniquely her own. She pulled away all too soon, knowing that forever was something neither of you had.
“Go,” she told you. “I’ll be okay.”
You nodded and watched as she backed into the closet, and you slowly shut the door. You headed back down the hall and turned, still thinking of the feel of Allison’s lips on yours. When you slammed into a firm shape, you realized you were a little too distracted.
“Jesus,” you breathed as you stumbled back in the dark.
“Y/n, what the hell are you doing?” Ethan asked. “I thought you were going to wait outside.”
“I-I was,” you told him. “I just…thought I heard something.”
“Did you?” a voice asked from behind you and you turned to see Deucalion striding down the hall with Kali and Aiden by his side.
“No,” you told him. “It wasn’t what I thought it was.”
You had gotten good at lying in all the time you had been on your own, but Deucalion had a way of sniffing them out. It could have been because you played it off confidently or that Deucalion didn’t think it was relevant, but either way, he didn’t mention detecting a lie.
“Well, if you’re done wasting our time, I believe we should leave before the moon rises,” he announced. “Kali?”
The other alpha offered her arm, casting a suspicious glance toward you before she led him away. Aiden and Ethan fell back to walk beside you, but your happy attitude wasn’t lost on your pack members.
“Hey,” Aiden whispered when Kali and Deucalion were far enough ahead. “Why are you smiling like that?”
“What?” you asked, looking over at him.
“You’re smiling,” he stated. “Why?”
You thought back to Allison sitting in that cold, dark closet. She was probably terrified about the cryptic answers you had given her earlier, but you hoped she was thinking about you as well. You wouldn’t have left her there if you thought she would get hurt, and even though you weren’t supposed to, you promised yourself you would come back for her later. And if you were being honest, after that kiss, you could never dream about leaving her behind.

My Boys Drabbles - Back to the Start (Part One)

Hey Guys,

since this plot is too detailed to be a one shot, I’ve decided to make it a short multi-chapter (maybe 3-4). Thanks to my Usain Beta @jia911 whose amazing skills are always of great value to me :)

This story is from the series My Boys Drabbles but it can also be read as a independent one shot.

  • The Prompt:

@june-louise asked for a story where Owen would get hurt/sick and Amelia would act strong while being terrified of losing him.

This amazing prompt made me think of an idea I had when I was first writing My Boys, but for some reason never went through with. I hope you guys like it.

  • Timeline

This story sets 9 months after the end of My Boys: Better Days. 

Back to the Start - Part One

“Do you see that one over there?” Thomas pointed to a puffy dark cloud “It looks like a garbage truck.”

Owen cracked up and agreed. He was lying down on the grass of his backyard with his two eldest sons, examining the afternoon sky while trying to name shapes from the dark, heavy grey clouds that gathered in the sky.

“That one over there,” Lucas pointed, visibly bored “Looks like a thunderstorm.”

“Don’t be a killjoy,” Owen reprimanded him, seeing how Thomas was enjoying their game and Lucas wasn’t. He loved being outdoors, and he stimulated the boys to be there as much as possible too.

“When is mom coming home?” Lucas asked, tilting his head to examine another cloud “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Thomas pointed out, very wisely.

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anonymous asked:

Linstead + running into members of the unit while out together on days off

Alright so this took an unexpectedly long time to slog through but I’m blaming it on some hard life days. Also, these might mostly suck and I apologize for that. Basically the only part I really like is when Antonio talks to Jay–random inspiration spurts, ftw.


Running into Ruzek while out, well, running, is entirely a coincidence. It’s a Saturday, the sun came out after 10AM and it’s Jay who instigates the motion to get out and exercise while the weather is cooperating. Erin grouses, grumbles, groans, and then concedes. How can she not when he brackets her in with his arms, leaning on the back and side of the couch, amusement turning into raised brows and a charming grin. (Jay might fall prey to her dimples, but she’s just as easily swayed by him when he tries—not that it’s something she spreads around.) The sunshine is warm, burning off the spring chill, and Erin has to admit that it does feel good to fall into a steady jog with Jay keeping pace at her side. So, of course the soothing rhythm that makes the outing worthwhile gets dumped. Jay drops back without a word of warning, and Erin looks over her shoulder for him just in time to see her partner’s hand flash out and her yelp is only mildly undignified when Jay pinches her backside then takes off at a headlong sprint right after. Not that it stops him from laughing, hard. Escape is a wise choice, because Erin stares after him a beat before the chase is on. They play an altered form of tag for close to half an hour and Erin finds herself running pell-mell down a hill with Jay hot on her heels, gasping with laughter and for air, trying to ward him off, when someone steps out in her path. Recognizing Ruzek a couple seconds too late and exchanging a wide-eyed stare, Erin forgets that her partner is bearing down for just long enough that he barrels into her from behind. Jay grabs her up with his arms around her torso, trapping hers against her sides, lungs heaving for breath, and his growl in her ear is just a little bit smug, “You’re mine now.” Erin’s gaze skitters from him back to their teammate and Jay finally catches on—not that he lets her go. Adam just shakes his head, hands raised as he backs away. “Nope, sorry, I don’t need to see anything more. I still have to work with you people on Monday.”


When Erin reads on the front of the newspaper that a fair is in Chicago for the weekend, she knows that she wants to go. The last time she visited any type of amusement park was when she was seventeen and Hank had taken them all—Camille, Justin, herself—to the carnival. She and Camille had gone on every ride because apparently there was a pure Voight gene requiring motion sickness on amusement park rides. It’d been six months before they found out Camille was sick. “Jay, come on, we’re going out.” He looks up from a news article on his phone that’s making his brow crease, trying to catch up with her line of thought. It’s a Sunday in May, it’s almost too humid, and Erin laces her fingers through Jay’s to drag him from attraction to attraction. They’re in the middle of trying to out-shoot each other at a balloon pop—Jay’s ahead and she’ll never admit it—when she sees Antonio nearby with Eva and Diego on either side of him. It’s been forever since they’ve seen his kids and joining up to explore is an easy choice. Erin gets ahead with Eva and Diego, leaving Jay and Antonio to walk at a more subdued pace, catching up on life outside of work. It’s when Erin raises a hand to gesture them over that, Antonio stops Jay with a hand on his arm, gaze serious. “Jay, I just want you to keep in mind— when you and Erin decide to get serious, don’t ever let the job come first over what’s important. Because you’ll wake up and realize one day that your family is all that you’ve got and losing that is losing yourself.”


Erin and Jay are in the midst of going back and forth over whether to get hard apple cider or hard lemonade—they’re attempting to try something new, but as usual their tastes are making a decision difficult. And the fridge is full so they might be able to fit both but it’s more entertaining to argue over it first. Erin insists that the cider is less likely to be a nauseating mix of alcohol and sugar. Jay starts when an arm reaches over his shoulder and taps the hard cider in question. They both look over and Alvin stands there with raised brows and his other hand in his pocket. “Try the cider. You’ll have better luck and pay less.” Triumph blooms across Erin’s face as she pokes her partner in the ribs. “I told you, babe. Cider, all the way.” Alvin eyes them for a moment before turning to meander away, waving over his shoulder. “You kids be careful on the way home.


The night has been shaping up to be their first real date in almost a month and Erin reaches across the table to lace her fingers through Jay’s on the tablecloth. Their planned four-day weekend escape to the cabin can’t come soon enough, and his gaze is tired but gentle, and they just need a break from getting home and collapsing into bed because the cases run them into the ground. Erin parts her lips to suggest seeing if they can both convince Hank that they got food poisoning when—“Why, Detectives Lindsay and Halstead, I never thought I’d see the day.” And when Sergeant Platt plants herself beside their table, in a dress and makeup, Erin feels her hopes for a peaceful evening and an early night with Jay go up in smoke.


They don’t “run into” Hank on their days off so much as plan regular outings with him. Erin likes to spend time with him off the job and once Jay and Hank get past the stilted conversations due to a rocky beginning and a sometimes tense relationship since, they get along well. Erin sits back a lot while they discuss shared interests—house maintenance, interestingly enough, is a popular topic—and just listens because despite everything she’s lost to get to this point, she still feels peace, with her hand held between both of Jay’s in his lap while Hank watches on in approval before questioning what their plans are, because Justin is coming with his wife and kid. They talk about a barbecue and Erin and Jay’s new apartment and the world feels a little more right.

Morning Song

First time I wrote something for this particular trashcan. Enjoy, its just a drabbel. (and lemme know what you think) And this was also very much inspired by lucayacanons posts. (I’d find the exact one but…#laziness) Anyways, enjoy!

They were always the type to set the standards for other relationships.

With their constant banter and stolen kisses, the entire school had them on the pedestal for perfect relationship. They were the Cory and Topanga of John Quincy Adams High School. Their entire relationship was out in the pubic, every fight was noted, every makeup was smiled at, their relationship was something their entire school loved.

But they still managed to get their quiet moments. Together in Mayas apartment, or back in Lucas’s home in Texas, they’d manage to steal away moments of privacy and just enjoy each other. 

The sun was starting to rise, and the city had a low, busy, hum to it. Maya’s mother was out for work, and Shawn had gone on one of his trips across the state. The apartment was completely silent, and Lucas had been resting on her bed after sneaking in a couple hours before. After sharing passionate kisses, the two had fallen into Maya’s bed and had talked the next several hours away. Until they had finally dozed off to sleep with Maya’s head on his bare chest. 

She was the first to wake, blinking rapidly as she tried to remember what had happened. Maya sat up straight, rubbing her blue eyes and stretching her short arms. Carefully, she got herself out of bed, making sure not to wake Lucas. After a couple of moments, she finished with the bathroom and re-entered her room and sat down next to Lucas, looking down at him. He looked so happy, so content with life. A simple smile was in place as he breathed in and out, his blonde hair falling onto his smooth skin. Her smile grew, her dimples appearing onto her cheeks. She stroked him, her eyes growing softer at his shirtless body. With one hand she tucked her messy blonde hair behind her ear allowing the silence engulf the two of them. But Maya had never been one for the quiet, and even though it was nice she let her voice slowly start to fill it.

“So what if I just wanna be a little bit out of my mind
I let you take my heart and I like it
So what if I happen to be a little bit out of my mind
I better steal your heart and you’ll like it

And I don’t think it’s any kind of secret
I feel you from a million miles away”

Maya’s head swayed slightly to the music in her head, her eyes closed. She hummed the tune not noticing the shift in Ranger Rick until he was sitting up as well and gazing fondly down at her.

“Why’d you stop pancake?” 

Mayas eyes flew open, a smirk already in place. “Because I figured I could put my mouth to better use cowboy”

Lucas grinned, swooping downwards to give her a light peck on the cheek. “I think you used that pretty little mouth pretty well last night” he murmured against her skin. “But I think it has a different use right now.” he finished pulling away from her.

As gently as he could, Lucas lifted her up, shaking his head at the giggles she let out. He placed her in his lap, letting her shift around until she was comfortable. “C’mon. Make Ranger Rick happy with your voice”

Rolling her eyes, Maya continued with the song picking up exactly where she left off.

“And your love is the best thing that I got
And it’s only just begun but it’s never gonna stop
It’s the best thing, the best thing that I got

I know sometimes it seems like I
Am just a little bit behind
I get back on the beat and you know it
And sometimes I can tell that I
Am just a little out of time
I make you skip a beat and I know it”

Lucas nuzzled into her neck, giving gentle kisses along her collarbone. Maya struggled to remember the rest of the lyrics, her eyes closed once more, back arched like a cat. She breathed in heavily as Huckleberry made his way upwards, pausing briefly to urge her to continue. Swallowing, Maya thought hard, trying to sing the correct notes to the song she had decided was perfect for them.

“But I don’t think it’s any kind of secret
I think of you a billion times a day

And your love is the best thing that I got-” 

Maya came to an abrupt stop as Lucas began nibbling on her earlobe. Giving up on the song, she turned her head to meet his, and picked up where the two left off last night.

Outside, the world rose for another day, the sun coming through the open window. The wind flooded the room as Lucas and Maya fell back onto the bed, breathing heavily. After catching her breath, Maya continued the song, determined to finish it. Her head on Lucas’s chest, she sang the final four stanzas.

“And it’s only just begun but it’s never gonna stop
It’s the best thing, the best thing that I got

So don’t feel lonely tonight
You know I’ll never be hard to find
So don’t go out of your mind
You know I’ll never be too hard to find

I know sometimes it seems like I
Am just a little bit behind
I get back on the beat and you know it

Your love is the best thing that I got
And it’s only just begun but it’s never gonna stop
It’s the best thing, the best thing that I got” 

Maya paused, looking up at her Huckleberry. He was gazing down at her with such love and affection, that it took her breath away. She was never the kind of girl to hope for much, or to have something that she had to thank the universe for. But in the moment, as the sunlight hit his fair skin just the right way, and he smiled that smile he reserved for her, she thanked the universe for giving her this. For giving her him

“Your love is the best thing
And it’s only just begun
It’s the best thing”

Sweet Child of Mine

Arizona saunters into the bedroom she shares with her lover, leaning against the door frame as she watches Callie lying flat across their bed. The brunette’s hair is sprawled across the pillow and she’s clad in only jeans and a bra, half-dressed when she flopped onto the bed, eyes closed as she sings along to the radio. She blinks up from under her hair, after a minute, giving her girlfriend a dazzling smile. Arizona climbs up beside her, her head resting on her hand, her elbow taking her weight as she lays on her side. She nestles her face against Callie’s cheek, placing a tender kiss against the soft skin she finds there, letting them trail down to the corner of soft, soft lips. Smiling, she watches as Callie turns ever so slightly to face her partner, eyes ablaze with happiness and unquestionable love. “Calliope,” she whispers, “my love,” blue eyes are lost in brown, “marry me?”

Callie’s hands shake as she nervously rests against the sink, her hand taking her weight as she watches and waits in agonising anticipation. Her heart flutters as Arizona’s head rests on her shoulder from behind, her arms wrap around her waist and holding her in a strong embrace. The blonde feels a shaking body shuffle against her own and she pulls her fiancé closer, protecting her, listening as she whispers against her chest that she cannot bare to look. After another minute, Arizona reaches past her and swiftly turns the pregnancy test over, revealing the two pink lines they’d both desperately hoped for. Her blue eyes brim with tears but twinkle with pure joy, a laugh bubbling from her lips and it tells Callie everything she needs to know.

Arizona can’t help the delighted giggle that fall from her lips as she walks out of the bathroom and into their bedroom to her pouting fiancé. She watches as the other woman hops around the room, trying to pull her favourite pair of ridiculously expensive black jeans over her legs and fasten them over her ever-growing bump, “Arizona!” she whines, “stop laughing. I’m fat.” Callie isn’t wearing a top yet and her bump is just too tempting for the blonde who falls to her knees, still snickering at her wife to be a she peppers the skin with kisses. “You’re beautiful, Calliope,” more kisses, “radiant,” she reaches to hold a hand, “miraculous,” tender caresses of her skin makes the pregnant woman’s breath hitch and before she knows it, Arizona is on her feet, pulling her in with a finger through the belt loop and holding her against her body. “You’re having my baby,” the shorter woman sings with glee, making Callie roll her eyes and chuckle as she is danced around the room, “what a lovely way of sayin’ how much you love me!” Arizona’s childish, unadulterated joy as she sings the rest of the stupid song, still holding her close and spinning her around their home makes Callie’s heart skip a beat, “I’m happy you know it, that you’re having my baby,” Arizona’s damp hair drips around them as she twirls her pregnant fiancé across their living room, “you’re the woman I love and I love what it’s doin’ to ya!”

The jelly is cold against her bare stomach, which is now swollen and large. Their fingers are intertwined, both their engagement rings sparkle under the light and both their chests flicker with nerves as they wait to see their unborn child appear on the screen and the sound of a heartbeat echo around the room. They’ve seen their tiny baby a few times now, more than most seeing as they’re both doctors and type A and desperately, hopelessly in love with the tiny human they have made from scratch. The excitement of finding out the sex of said tiny human buzzes around the room but everything seems to freeze for both women and words escape them, “there’s your little girl,” is all either of them can hear and they just can’t seem to breathe.

Her dress is short length, falling just above her knees. It squeezes Callie’s constantly expanding bump under the loose material but flutters slightly in the gentle summer’s wind. Callie grips Mark’s hand tightly in hers and they share a smile. Together they walk under the rosebud archway, up along the cream carpeted walkway, following the trail of petals they lay before them. Arizona is already waiting at the alter and when her brother whispers for her to turn around, the smile previously adorning her lips falls slightly, her eyes widen, mouth falls open and her next breath is just out of reach. She’s never seen a more beautiful sight than her almost wife walking slowly towards her with a heart stopping smile, housing their daughter, growing her, keeping her safe until she is ready to meet them properly. When their eyes meet, both their nervous butterflies finally disappear. Their eyes aren’t torn from each other throughout the entire service and as they hear the words ‘wife and wife’, they breathe a sigh of relief, content and absolute joy. As they share a tender kiss, their family and friends surrounding them with cheers and claps, Arizona’s hand caresses her wife’s bump and absolutely everything is perfect.

Her breathless screams fill the air, panting and gasping for breath. Callie’s hand grips Arizona’s in a vice like hold, her knuckles a shade of white. The blonde whispers words of love and encouragement, wanting nothing more than to take her wife’s pain away but knowing that soon, so very soon, it’ll all be more than worth it. She tells her that the pain is excruciating and that she just can’t take it anymore and in return she is showered with kisses to her head and can feel the pride flowing from the other woman, “I know you can do it,” she can hear, “I love you Calliope. A little more and we’re going to meet our baby girl.” Eventually, after an eternity of pain and waiting, Callie’s breathing calms and her screaming subsides and moments later she is handed her daughter. Arizona beams when her wife whispers that she has her dimples and everything seems to fall into place.

A small, contented sigh leaves Arizona’s mouth and an elated smile dances across her lips as she rocks her daughter, only hours old, in her arms. Her wife rests just beside them, sleep overtaking her exhausted form only a short while ago. Her baby is a miracle, she thinks. And though the strong Latina genes had won out with the tufts of black hair and tanned skin, the blue eyes and dimples are all her and she thanks her lucky stars that they found the perfect donor. Maddie stirs in her mama’s arms and she hums gently to settle her, “she’s got eyes of the bluest skies as if they’d thought of rain. I’d hate to look into those eyes and see and ounce of pain,” she keeps her voice soft and tender as she strokes her dainty cheeks with her little finger, “oh, oh, oh sweet child of mine,” the softest kiss imaginable is placed against the baby’s forehead as Arizona cradles her close, breathing in her intoxicating baby smell, “oh, oh, oh sweet love of mine.” Her baby’s eyes are curious and full of intrigue as her eyelids flicker shut and a soft moan escapes her delicate lips.

Arizona’s keys click into the lock of the new home they’ve recently move into, a few months into her wife’s pregnancy. She’s carrying bags of shopping, softly humming a song she’d heard earlier on the radio. She opens her mouth to speak, to let her wife and baby know she’s home but the sight in front of her brings her to a halt. Callie lays with only a bra and some comfy sweats across their sofa and Maddie lays above her, her small cheek pressed against her mommy’s chest and her hands fanned across her body. Both of them are sound asleep. Maddie is stretched as far as her tiny body will allow her to, her bare feet resting against her mommy as she lays in only a vest, the warmth of her mother and the rare hot evening enough to comfort her. Without saying a word, Arizona places a blanket on top of their sleeping forms and gently strokes her daughter’s tufts of raven hair. She presses a tender kiss to her wife’s forehead, snaps a precious picture and then leaves her girls to sleep.

Noise fills the Shepherd-grey house, not a quiet moment throughout the whole day. Both children’s and adult’s laughter floods the place and the feeling is infectious, despite the riot taking place. Two teams have been built and a war is about to start. On one team, Callie alongside Teddy, Cristina, Addison, Meredith, Amelia, Lexie, Maggie and a surprisingly eager Bailey. On the other, Arizona, Henry, Owen, Jake, Derek, Mark, Ben, Amelia’s long-term girlfriend Kate and perhaps the most surprising of all, Maggie’s husband, Alex. The huge pile of children they have gathered between them run around, floating from one team to the other and laughing like crazy as the water fight begins and chaos erupts. From her hiding place behind the tree house, an only slightly damp Arizona is feeling triumphant. She’s damn good at games. Except, moments later, she is completely drenched and turns to see her wife and daughter with empty buckets and matching grins. “Calliope Torres, you suck! Maddie Torres, you’re a big meanie,” she shakes her hair out, her two braids shaking water at the pair in front of her. “Arizona Torres, we don’t say sucks.” Both laugh when a miniature version of them nods frantically, “yeah mama, we don’t say sucks!” She wants to be grumpy that she lost but really, when her girls look at her like that, she doesn’t mind at all.

Callie’s emotions seem all over the place as she wakes, wrapped in her wife’s embrace. Together they enjoy their rare day off, making breakfast together and watching cartoons with their daughter as they so rarely get to do in the mornings. Or at least, not all of them together. They dress Maddie and grab her backpack and scurry her off to their car, Arizona fussing to ensure all is perfect. Together, they stand hand in hand at the school gates with hundreds of other gushing parents, their nerves far outshining anything they were expecting. Maddie is unfazed, a miniature replica of both her mothers. She wears her hair in two braids and insists on carrying her own bags. She’s strong and feisty with the kindest heart and a captivating smile. She kisses her parent’s goodbye and strides off to her classroom, leaving Callie and Arizona alone. Callie smiles at her wife, still as in love with her as she always had been. This time, she rests her hand against the swell of her wife’s stomach, the bump only just beginning to show. The glimmer in her loves eyes and the way she practically glows mirrors how she was herself, years before and it causes her heart to swell further and her smile to widen a fraction more.

His Lady

He doesn’t care.

She is warm and soft and smells like wild berries and flowers, and her arms are strong and warm. They are safe, these arms that hold him, the fingers that stroke his hair, the hands that comb his curls and mend his trousers in the privacy of her chambers.  They possess magic, her hands, a magic she wields for him, for his Papa and the others around her.

This he knows.

She will fight to protect him, and when he cries she holds him close, the way a mother should, he thinks.  She is softer than his Papa, her hair, her chest, even her hands, and there is something about that he needs now at night, something he hadn’t known he was missing until he’d experienced it for himself.  She lets him sneak into her room at bedtime, cradling him, rubbing his back if he’s frightened, even singing softly in his ear when she’s certain no one else is listening.

He loves it when she sings.

Papa doesn’t seem to mind that he spends time with her, even though he looks at her funny sometimes, the same way the prince looks at his princess when he thinks no one is looking. It’s strange how grown-ups forget that children can see things, too.

He’d called her Mama once.

She’d told him that he couldn’t do that anymore—that his Papa wouldn’t like it, and he’d asked her not to tell him, that he didn’t want to upset his Papa. She’d sworn it would be their little secret and had drawn him close before telling him a story about the little train that could.  Trains must be magic, he’d thinks, no matter what she says, and he’d closed his eyes that night with a smile on his face, thinking perhaps one day she would be his Mama, and he would be her boy. But he’d heard her crying later, felt tears drip into his hair.

So he’d told his Papa, and he hadn’t been upset. Instead, he’d told him about her own little boy—one now lost to her in that other world, one she missed so terribly it sometimes made her cry. It was then he knew.

She needs him, too.

So he doesn’t care that some people call her evil, that others bow or step back from her, that people whisper things about his Papa and her when they think he can’t hear them. He doesn’t care if he misses playing with other children to make her necklaces of flowers and leaves, necklaces she wears proudly as he races to sit beside her every night at dinner. For to him, she isn’t a queen or a monster or a sorceress to be feared. She’s his Gina.

And once again cradled between her voice and warm blankets, he falls asleep.

Office Hours

Pairing: Solas x Lavellan (imminent), Cullen x Trevelyan
Rating: PG-13 (for talk of vaginas and butts)
Summary: Imogen camps out in Solas’s office between classes, and they come across a very surprising ad.

I made you a thing, @andauril <3

Fuck me, did you know Qunari-blooded kids can weigh up to twenty pounds at birth?”

“Language, Miss Trevelyan,” Solas said automatically, not raising his eyes from the essay he was grading.

Imogen occupied the chair opposite Solas’s desk, her feet propped on the bookshelf across from her, and her eyes glued to her laptop. She did this often: parked herself in his office between classes, ostensibly to work, though Solas was not certain that he had ever actually seen her do so. He had asked her once why she did this, and she had answered, simply, that he would feel terribly unloved if she didn’t.

Admittedly, she had a point, but it was still something of a distraction.

“Seriously, though,” she continued, heedless of his reprimand, “can you imagine it? Squeezing something that big out of your vagina?”

“I’m afraid I lack the requisite anatomy.”

Imogen shuddered audibly, then fell mercifully silent again, having presumably moved on to another website. Only moments later, she let out an excited cry. “Oh! Look, here’s one of Alya’s Solange’s ads!”

Before Solas could protest, she’d shoved the screen in his face.

His mouth went dry.

The ad showed Alya with her back to the camera, peering flirtatiously over her shoulder at the viewer. She was topless, a cascade of shiny black curls falling down her back almost to the twin dimples at the base of her spine, just below which rode the waistband of a pair of pink silk knickers that showed off a good deal more of her plump, round buttocks than they covered.

“She has a fantastic ass.”

Yes. Yes, she did. Solas—a grown man who was absolutely, positively not blushing—shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his trousers suddenly a bit too tight.

“I’m so jealous,” Imogen said, pulling the laptop back and studying the screen, oblivious to his predicament. “I wonder what sort of exercises she does. Or do you figure it’s just good genes?”

Solas cleared his throat. “I, ah, wouldn’t know.”

“Can’t hurt to ask, I guess,” she said. “If it’s at all physically possible, I want that ass in my wedding dress this summer.”

She went on for a bit about her fiancé, Cullen, their wedding plans, and their sisters’ domination thereof, but Solas was only half listening, still unable to shake the image of Alya Lavellan’s shapely backside out of his head.

effie214  asked:

Oliver/Felicity, a bike ride that goes slightly wrong when they run out of has. (Bonus if Felicity finds a way to, ahem, distract him while they wait for help.)

Title: Every Mile A Memory
Category: Arrow
Word Count: 1000
Rating: M
A/N: Thanks to effie214 for the prompt. Title taken from the Dierks Bentley song of the same name.
Summary: “I didn’t realize I was quite that distracting though.”
Read: AO3 or here.

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Love Has A Quiet Voice

A/N: Thought this up on my long drive home last night. Killian wonders what Emma’s magic feels like.

For the-lady-swan, who keeps me going when I let my insecurities run rampant. Love you, bug.

FFN || AO3


It’s late into the evening on one of their date nights — her head tipped to his shoulder as they sit side-by-side on her bed at Granny’s, propped up against the headboard watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier on Netflix (she’s found he’s quite fond of Cap, feels some kinship with his character over his honorable nature and good form, love, and how he’s from another time, needing to adjust to an unknown, modern world — it’s the sweetest thing, honestly, to see Captain Hook fanboying over Captain America) while his fingertips trace lazy patterns against her palm — when he suddenly asks her.

“What’s it like?”

She’s half-dozing, half-struggling to keep her eyes open to watch Cap and The Winter Soldier go hand-to-hand in a really awesome fight sequence. “Hmm?” she hums in question, shifting to rest her chin against his shoulder and stare at his profile.

Killian glances at her, the corners of his mouth tipping up in an almost shy smile. “Your magic, darling. What does it feel like?”

She studies him for a moment, eyes searching his, not really sure where he’s going with his question, but it’s a good one and he’s got her attention and has drawn her away from sleep. She pulls back slightly, turning to her other side to reach for the remote on the nightstand and pause the movie. She sits up, angles her body towards him for a better view of his face and pulls her knees up to her chest, arms wrapping around them while she contemplates him.

She’s never thought about it, not really, it’s been such an innate part of her that she just hasn’t paid much attention. Her brow furrows as she tries to recall in her mind, all those moments she’s conjured magic. It’s not clear, she can’t remember, or she can’t focus on what happens inside of her. 

Absentmindedly, she reaches for his hand, fingers smoothing over the many lines and ridges and callouses while her gaze follows — there’s strength there, not just physical, but strength of character, strength of heart. She can all but feel it radiating from him with every ba-dump of his pulse as her thumb strokes over his wrist. Emma stills for a moment, smile soft as she raises her eyes to him.

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Happy Birthday, jadeddiva, you precious cupcake! You are a good friend with a good heart and you deserve the very best of days. Sending you all my love. You’re going to be the very best mom.

Just some fluffy Killian and Emma expecting a baby.


He likes the rocking chair.

She can tell because he keeps turning his head and glancing at it as they wheel carefully around the store, like he’s afraid someone is about to snatch it up and run off with it before he works up the courage to tell her it’s something he wants. She bites back a grin and carefully considers the line of onesies in front of them, not surprised when she turns around and finds him suddenly missing.

She finds him in front of the rocking chair, fingertips pressing at the arm, apparently testing just how well it rocks.

She rests her chin on his shoulder. “Is it seaworthy, captain?”

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