fic prompt kinda

Victuuri Week // Day 1 // AU: A Different Career - The Photographer & The Model

Viktor was much more beautiful in person than Yuuri was ever expecting 
(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)


Based on this prompt I said I’d fill a few days ago:

boss: “know why I called you in here?”
me: “because I accidentally sent you a dick pic”
boss: “accidentally?”


(on ao3)

“You need to stop pining after people you haven’t even spoken to,” Lydia says one day, probably because Derek—er, Mr. Hale, their boss—has just stepped through the front door of the cafe where they’re having lunch, and Stiles has trailed off mid-word to watch him walk up to the counter. In Stiles’ defense, he’s never seen Mr. Hale outside of the office before, let alone Mr. Hale wearing a leather jacket over his dress shirt. God, and Stiles thought the tailored suits were bad enough…


“Uh, I have too spoken to him,” Stiles says indignantly, tearing his eyes away from Derek’s broad back across the room. “One day I was coming out of the break room and I almost walked right into him and he said, ‘Excuse me,’ so then I said, ‘Oops,’ and he smiled at me. Kind of. A little bit. I mean, I interpreted it as a smile. There was some prolonged eye contact.”

Lydia abruptly stops stirring her fat-free latte to stare at him—one of those Oh god, it’s worse than I thought kind of looks. “That’s it?”

Keep reading

Hi, here’s me trying to write Drarry

“au where harry james potter has a youtube channel in which he tells story times about himself and shit that happens with him and bam one day he and Draco Beauty Guru Malfoy collaborate: Harry tells a story time while Draco does his make up”- @saintdrarry

Harry James Potter started his youtube channel at the age of 18, when he moved out of the Dursley’s and into an old London mansion he inherited from his late godfather.

  • He goes to uni for European History (he wants to be a professor because he’s a neeeeerd) .
  • His first video- “Welcome to this Grim-old Place!”
  • Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ginny are constantly in his “daily” vlogs
    • Tbh he’s shit at being daily, it’s mainly when he can be bothered to go outside
  • He loves to walk around the city with his dogs, Hedwig (a Samoyed), and Padfoot (a Great Dane-also called a boarhound)
  • Often, they go to a small bookshop owned by Xenophilius Lovegood (who always lets animals in) and read for hours
  • He likes to put glasses on his dogs while the lay down and drool over “doggy books” (chew toys in the shape of books) and Instagram it
  • He likes to walk around the house and make up stories about the Blacks, and then ends them all by looking at the camera, very seriously, and saying, “Their ghosts will murder me in my sleep, I’m Sirius, goodnight.”

  • Often, though, he just makes videos at the end of the day telling about his life.
  • His best videos are the drunk ones at all the youtube parties-or the ones when he’s home alone
    • An excerpt from one such video, where he is sitting on a desk chair backwards-”you guys, i gotta be honest with you. Boys are hot as fucK
      • He fell off the chair during that last word
  • The channel gains popularity, and he has like 4 million subs by the time he turns 20
  • His most watched video (with like 15 mil views!!) is “My Coming Out Story
    • The Thumbnail is of him and Ginny sitting on his bed
    • The description is, “Hi im not gay. Im not straight. Im certainly not dating Ginny. Yes, I used to. No, I don’t have an s/o atm.
    • Luna pops up about 30 seconds in, kisses Ginny for 10 seconds while Harry very awkwardly looks at the camera, and then leaves with Ginny.
    • Newsflash: he’s bi af.
  • His second most watched video is about his mum and dad, and everyone cries watching it.
    • They died protecting him in an attempted robbery from a gang when he was very little
    • He also talks about Sirius and Remus
    • Sirius died by being killed by a gang member (after spending 12 years in prison for “being one”
    • Remus died from Cancer
  • Another video is where Luna, Ginny, and Hermione do his hair and choose his wardrobe for a daily vlog
    • He lost a bet
    • His hair is long, so Hermione puts it in a french braid and ties it up in a messy bun
    • They then spend a few minutes talking about how Hermione’s coarse hair has a different care process
    • Ginny chooses an orange button up shirt and faded dungarees for the outfit
    • Luna just elects to put glitter/stick-on jewels on Harry’s face because, she says, it will really pop on his dark skin
  • After that video they film a vlog in which they go to the London Zoo, which is quite near Grimmauld Place
  • Harry really likes the glitter, so he searched Youtube for makeup tutorials and found the one, the only, Draco Malfoy
  • While watching his videos, Harry always notices how clean his workspace was
    • Harry’s house was constantly a mess, but he always cleaned on Sundays-he really did!
  • Also, Malfoy was cold, hardly ever expressing emotion
  • He was brutally honest and loved a challenge
    • Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson (two other beauty gurus) often pop up in his videos
  • Malfoy has one video up about the racist comments he receives for his friends being, well, not white
    • He rants for 15 minutes about how real MUA’s should be able to do makeup on all people, not just white people
  • Apparently, Malfoy has his own line of makeup, called, of course, “Malfoy”
  • All of his videos were makeup related, but his other social media (what no, Harry didn’t stalk) shows his normal life-perfectly pristine and flawless in every way, with a hint of crude humor on Tumblr
  • He was never seen in public without a full face of makeup; his eyeliner could cut a bitch.
  • He didn’t have any pets, but his parents owned an estate with peacocks and horses
    • Draco had a Friesian called Atticus (After Atticus Finch, of course)
    • Anyways, Draco lives in London as well and goes to uni for English
  • One day, Harry emails Draco asking if he wants to collab.
    • This was after weeks of obsessing and multiple friends yelling at him to “just find the boy and snog him”
  • Technically, Ron and Hermione wrote and sent the email
  • When Draco reads it, his heart stops
    • Wow who knew that Draco had been low-key obsessed with Harry the whole time?
    • I did. I’m the author
    • Also, you did. This is a cliche and I am loVING IT
    • Anyways, back to the story.
  • He immediately calls Pansy and yells at her to go to his flat
    • They spend 20 minutes crafting the perfect respons
  • 3 days later, a bare-faced Draco Lucius Malfoy shows up on Harry James Potter’s front doorstep. 
  • He steps in, and Harry offers a cuppa
  • He accepts, and they talk for almost two hours before starting to film.
  • Draco sets up his makeup and hair stuff on a desk next to the camera, and has Harry sit down on a stool opposite his own
  • Harry decides he’s going to talk about his godson, Teddy, and tells Draco so
  • Draco just stares at Harry for about two minutes before bursting out laughing and informing Harry that Teddy is his cousin
  • Eventually, they start filming.
  • Draco decided a long time ago that Harry would be golden, and makes him up that way-from bright eyelids to shiny cheekbones
    • His lips were a matte brown nude with a shimmer on them
  • In the meantime, Harry chattered on about his bus ride with Teddy and how the kid’s hair was bright red, and it almost seemed pink in the sun
  • When they were done, Harry saw how he looked and gasped
    • “Don’t you dare cry, Potter, you’ll ruin everything”
  • After they turned off the camera, Harry worked up the courage to ask Draco out
  • Draco, of course, said yes, and kissed Harry softly on the mouth
    • “Oi, you’ll mess up my makeup” “The lipstick is special, it’s made to stay on. Anyways, I can always do it again.”

They then lived happily ever after goodnight.

anonymous asked:

If you're still doing that writing thing, can you write a story about Trans Boy Keith on his period? And he has cramps but his bf(s) is helping him with it and it's adorable? It doesn't matter who the bf(s) is. I'm feeling this hard core and it might make me hate being alive less

Keith had been trying to ignore the ominous signs all week, but when he woke up feeling the cold claw of Death reaching into his abdomen, he knew it was over. Really the warning signs had been obvious; an unusually vindictive twinge of satisfaction when the subway doors had closed on some hipster douche bag, his intense craving for pistachios- of all things- and (worst of all, he barely wanted to admit it,) the extreme, burning annoyance he had felt toward Lance all week. 

Lance, who had just wanted to stop and buy a gyro on their way back from class. Who had just wanted to sing along to the radio in the kitchen, who had just wanted to watch The Lion King for the sixth time that month. Sweet, beautiful Lance. The love of his life.

Lance, who Keith honestly would have choked out without a second thought.

His period was evil.

As much as he tried to have patience, Keith knew his temper was somehow even shorter during his period and Lance, bless him, had to bear the brunt of it. And yet, after all the snapping and glowering, Lance was the one hovering over his bed as Keith tried to find a position that would both ease the ache in his back and get the heating pad to hit just the right spot.

“How’re you feeling, babe?” Lance reached out, hesitating for a second before laying his hand gently on Keith’s forehead, pushing back his bangs. 

Keith sighed under his boyfriend’s touch. “A bit better, after I took my binder off,” he tried to muster a smile.

Lance nodded, meeting Keith’s expression with a frown. “Well, that’s good. Are you sure I can’t get you anything else? Another heating pad? Some tea? What’s that pill you take sometimes- Mo-train?”

Keith chuckled, reaching up to grab Lance’s hand. “It’s Motrin. And I’m fine now, thanks.” He brought Lance’s hand down to press a soft kiss against his knuckles.

“Are you sure? My sister always drank raspberry tea on her period, she said it helped. I think I have some in my apartment, I can grab it-”

“-Lance,” Keith interrupted, smiling genuinely now, “I’m fine. Really. Please don’t run halfway across the city for tea.” 

“Okay, I won’t,” Lance said quietly.

“But, if you want, you can climb up here with me,” Keith scooted forward in bed, careful to keep the heating pad in place under his shirt.

Lance climbed over him to nestle against his back, wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist and tenderly kissing along his shoulder and neck.

Keith sighed, trying now to ignore the hot pain that pooled in his stomach and focus instead on how Lance was hands down the sweetest man on the planet. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick this week,” he murmured, “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Don’t apologize,” Lance’s chuckle was muffled against his neck, “I know this sucks for you.”

“You’re too nice.”

“I can be mean, if you want me too-” 

Keith could hear the smirk in his voice as Lance pulled him closer. He turned to look over his shoulder, pouting until Lance leaned forward and met his lips once, twice. “I would hate that,” Keith breathed.

Soft Spot, Part 3

Regina is upset after Robin spends a night comforting the Evil Queen.

For the anon who requested Regina getting hurt by the EQ and Robin feeling guilty. (I went with an emotional sort of hurt for this one).

  • Part 1: The Evil Queen kidnaps Peanut, and Robin finds them together.
  • Part 2: Robin consoles the lonely Evil Queen,

Robin hadn’t expected Regina to be awake—awake and waiting—when he got home.

He’d fully expected to come home to a quiet and darkened house, to put his daughter down into her cozy bassinette after a long, emotionally taxing day, and then retire himself. He’d yearned for the warm comfort of their bed, expecting to slide in beside her and nuzzle against her, to breathe her in and hold her as he drifted to sleep.  He expected that explanations of what happened that night—explaining the story from beginning to end and filling in the gaps of how the Evil Queen had ended up with his infant daughter, how she’d cared for the tiny girl, never meaning her any harm, and how vulnerable and lonely she’d been, and how he couldn’t bring himself to leave her.  And, he’d expected that with a night’s rest behind them, they could discuss what happened with clear and rational heads, and he’d hoped with open hearts.

But what he’d expected hadn’t been what happened…

When he got home that night, it was actually morning; and the darkness of the sky was beginning to fade away. When the door opened, a thin strip of light stretched out from the kitchen and his eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the light that grew brighter and brighter as he walked toward it. He took a breath as he entered the kitchen, setting his daughter’s carrier on the counter as his eyes fell to Regina.

His chest clenched and his jaw tightened as his eyes fell to her, sitting at the counter and nursing a cup of tea that had likely cooled long ago. Her shoulders were slumped forward and there were tear tracks on her cheeks—and when she looked up at him, he could see that her eyes were red and swollen.

“It appears you have I have very different understandings of what it means to be home soon,” she says in a voice that’s quiet and flat. “I waited up. I wanted to see her, to see that she was okay, to hold and…” Shaking her head, she scoffs and looks back down at the cup of tea. “I didn’t expect that you’d spend the whole night with her.”

“I… I’m sorry,” he tells her, fully aware that his apology is only partially true—he doesn’t regret the spending the better part of the night holding the Evil Queen or allowing her cuddle his daughter; he doesn’t regret kissing her or making her feel less alone in the world, and he most certainly doesn’t regret loving her in spite of everything. But he does regret that those things hurt Regina—that they hurt her other half—and most of all, he regrets that they’re even in this situation.

“Are you?” She asks as she turns to face him. “Are you sorry? What exactly is it that you’re sorry about?” She blinks and he watches the way her shoulders square in defense, watching as her walls go up and she prepares for a fight—a fight they both know will have no winner. “Are you sorry that I spent the entire night worrying? Worrying about what she might do to you, what she might say… what she’d do to that precious little girl…” Her voice cracks as it trails off. “Worrying about my worst nightmare coming true?”

“Regina, I…”

“Did you think at all about me when you were with her?”

“This… isn’t fair…”

“You’re right,” she tells him with a curt nod, her eyes hardening as they meet his. “It’s not fair that you spend a night with her.”

“I… didn’t spend the night with her,” he murmurs, somewhat caught off guard by the biting hurt behind her words and the defensiveness in his own. “You’re making it sound like I’m having an affair or that…”

“Are you?”


“Are you!?” She asks again, her voice louder and her eyes wider as her chin begins to tremble. “Is… that why you stayed?”

“I just… I couldn’t leave her.”

“Of course you couldn’t.”

“Regina, this is ridiculous.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” she says, taking a short breath as her eyes press closed, her pain more than obvious. “Are you having an…”

“She’s not someone else,” he cuts in. “She’s not some other woman. She’s you. When I feel in love with you, I fell in love with all of you; and even though you separated yourself, even though you tore yourself in half, and even though everyone in your life seems to think this was a good thing for you, I will never be convinced that it was.” He pauses for a moment, feeling his lungs deflate as he looks at her, feeling so helpless and lost, not knowing what to do or say. “I can’t separate the two sides of you. When I look at her, I just see you.”

Looking up, Regina nods. “Do you… prefer that side of me? Do you prefer me like that?”

“Regina, this… isn’t fair.”

“Well that I can agree with,” she says, her voice suddenly hoarse. His heart aches as she reaches up and swipes her fingers over her eyes, pushing away the tears that began to well—and she when she looks back at him, all he wants to do is hold her and make it okay—but he knows that he can’t, he knows this isn’t something that he can fix. “When she told me that she was going sit back and watch us all tear each other apart I… I… never thought that… that this where it would start.”


“I know better than anyone how manipulative she can be. I should have seen this coming.”

“Regina,” he murmurs again as she slides off the stool at the counter. “Regina, please…” he says, reaching for her as she turns away, shaking her head as she sucks in a breath and struggles against her tears. “If you’d only…”

“Not now,” she says as she walks past him. “I just… want to go to bed and… forget about this for a little while.”

“Regina, we should talk out this. You can’t just…”

“No,” she says in a barely audible voice as she starts toward the stairs, leaving him standing there, alone and helpless, and overwrought with guilt; and he wishes, more than anything she could understand that every part of her was worth loving.

anonymous asked:

asdfghjkl just had a thought Yuuri comes into work one day wearing bright red lipstick Victor is suspiciously not seen for long periods that day


[HMCOUTURE SLACK CHANNEL: #interns_newandre]

alextallisonm, jennaj, aaronp, and shiftys have joined the channel.

jennaj: what is this 
alext: oh my god… 
shiftys: i just figured since we talk about him so much he deserves his own channel

shiftys set the channel purpose: to talk about our lord and savior, new andre

alext: snORT
aaronp: shifty, you are not using your admin powers for good
allisonm: with an ass that sinful, nothing about new andre has been good
shiftys: LALSION
aaronp: …you’re not wrong
jennaj: omfg
shiftys: you’re gonna get my admin powers stripped
shiftys: i just wanted to talk about his look today D:
alext: that MAC lip mix… a classic
jennaj: agreed, he really should borrow from sara’s drawer more often
allisonm: what do you mean sara’s drawer, that is clearly victor’s 
allisonm has shared a file: VN_METGALA0421.img 
allisonm has shared a file: VN_LAGBENEFIT0238.img
allisonm has shared a link: insta.gram/katsukiyuuri/post/24135
aaronp: allison wtf you whipped out those receipts so fast
allisonm: listen… i am their biggest shipper
alext: ohohoho i will fight you for that title

sarac has joined the channel.

jennaj: sara omfg
shiftys: you’re not even an intern get outta here


Later, thousands would say they saw it happen. The king, standing on the battlefield, the red-haired girl fighting by his side. Then, in the blink of an eye—or a brief glance away, or the momentary obstruction of the crowd—there is only one: King Hiryuu, the crimson dragon of legend, uniting all of Kouka behind him as he leads his armies to victory.

Hak doesn’t see it, though he’s there in the thick of it. Or rather, protecting his red-haired king, looking to them for direction in the heat of battle, feels so natural that it’s only later, standing by Hiryuu’s side as the king accepts the surrender of the Kai Emperor, that Hak realizes there’s anything to question. Then he freezes.

“Hak,” says Hiryuu, turning back to face him, his melodious voice both familiar and oh, so wrong.


“I am Yona,” says Hiryuu. “And I am Su-won. Don’t worry,” he says with a smile. “This is how things were always meant to be.”

“The red dragon will return at dawn,” Yun recites. He glances at the sky. It’s high noon now, the bright sun beating down on the dusty road home. Hiryuu rides at the head of the army, his generals following close behind. His dragons should be near him, too—Zeno is right by his side— but the others stay back, a lonely group amongst the triumphant soldiers. “I didn’t know this would happen! Ik-su never said—” Hak doesn’t reply. He remembers what Su-won did to the princess. How can Hiryuu say this was always meant to be?

The dragons, too, are silent. Finally, Shin-ah speaks. “He’s…not Yona,” he says.

“But he’s Hiryuu,” says Kija. “To follow him is the greatest, the only desire of the dragons.” He looks like he’s trying to convince himself.

“This can’t be permanent,” says Yun. “Can it?”

Hiryuu smiles, and speaks to Hak as if they’ve always known each other, and Hak can’t look him in the eye. “Where is Yona?” he growls. “What did you do to her?”

“Hak,” Hiryuu says gently, “I told you. I am Yona. She and Su-won, we were always two halves of a whole.”

“Yona was never incomplete!” Many things had been incomplete. The kiss she left him with the last time they saw each other, the words he never gave her in response. But Yona was always everything she needed to be.

Hiryuu turns his gaze to the heavens. “Do you remember when the two of us looked up at the sky together?” he asks.

“No,” Hak says shortly, and storms away.

“I’m no happier about this than you are,” Ju-doh says.

“You knew it would happen.” The Sky general doesn’t deny it. “When you traded your second sword for a shield, you knew it would happen. Why didn’t you warn her?”

“Warn her?” He scoffs at the idea. “She was the one armed with prophecies and dragons. She was the one who turned up everywhere he went. Don’t try to tell me she didn’t understand their destiny.”

It’s pointless to argue, and Hak doesn’t care to try. “Then why didn’t you try to stop it?”

“He wouldn’t let me,” Ju-doh admits. “All he asked was that I help him make the best use of the time he had.”

These days, Ju-doh is no closer to the king than Hak. The dragons are the ones who stay by his side—all the dragons but Jae-ha. “I chose to follow a girl who doesn’t exist anymore,” is the last thing he says before he flies away, as soon as it becomes clear there’s no going back. Hiryuu lets him go with a sad smile on his face. Zeno clings to his king. Shin-ah seems to love him, but flinches whenever the king speaks his name. Kija has become stiff with duty.

The generals accept the return of King Hiryuu gladly, even the ones who were never believers before. Joon-gi pushes even harder for a match with his daughter, who is far more amenable to the idea than she once was. The day before their wedding, Hak leaves for Fuuga. He’s not coming back.

Two years later, Hak is visited by a yellow-haired young man who he almost doesn’t recognize as Zeno. He’s taller, and his hair is shorter, the angles of his face a little sharper. “Hiryuu came back for a reason,” he says. “Zeno thought mister might want to know.”

“…oh,” is all Hak can say to that.

“Zeno misses the miss, too,” Zeno admits. “But at least Zeno won’t be missing her for long.” For the tiniest instant, Hak hopes—and then he realizes that Zeno is referring to himself, and not to Yona.

“Zeno, are you—are you going to be alright?”

“Zeno’s going to go visit Ryokuryuu next!” the former yellow dragon replies, without answering Hak’s question.

The king is planning a visit to Fuuga. Hak doesn’t intend to be there, but at the last minute, he can’t bring himself to leave. He’s weak, and he wants, oh how he wants to see that red hair again, those deep violet eyes, Yona’s eyes, even if he’ll never see Yona again. Hak stays back as the royal party arrives in the late morning—they’ve even brought the little princess with them—and there, he’s had his glimpse of Hiryuu, and that’s enough. That’s enough for a lifetime.


He turns. Standing before him is Yona—older, a grown woman, but without a doubt, Yona. “Princess,” he says. “What—how—?”

“Look at the sky,” says Yona. Hak looks up. What he thought was just a cloud covering the sun is no cloud at all but a much darker shadow. The beginning of an eclipse. “Long, long ago, the red sun was eaten, and the world was dyed black,” Yona recites. “We have until the light returns.”

“How often do solar eclipses happen?” Hak asks her.

“Yun says it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

“Then just tell me one thing. Is this what you want?”

She buries her face in his chest, tears staining his robes. “It’s not,” she says, gripping the stone on his necklace tight. “Hak, I just want my family back, I want you—” She pulls away from him and takes several deep breaths. “But it’s what Kouka needs. I made this choice, Hak.”

Hak pulls her close and wonders what will happen if he doesn’t let go.

When the light returns, she’s still there with him. Hak wonders if he dare hope. They return together to the main house at Fuuga, where Tae-wu greets Yona with confusion—and Lili greets her with open arms. “Yona, isn’t this longer than you expected?” Lili asks.

“It is,” says Yona. “Lili…where is Su-won?” But the other woman doesn’t know.

Two days they wait. Hak would like to never see Su-won again, but Yona is fraught with worry. The little princess doesn’t know what to make of the strange woman who looks so much like her father.

At dawn on the third day, Ju-doh rides to Fuuga. “Su-won isn’t coming back,” he says. “Not to Kouka, not in his lifetime.” He bows to Yona. “Your Majesty,” he says, “Su-won accepted where his path would lead. He never wanted that for you.”

“And you?” Hak asks.

“I’ll join him in exile,” says Ju-doh. “I only came back to deliver this message.”

Yona bows in return. “Thank you, General,” she says. She reaches for Hak’s hand.

“Princess,” Hak begins as they watch the former Sky general ride off into the distance. No, she’s not a princess anymore. “Yona,” he says, “Yona,” he repeats her name, “Yona.” She is Yona and only Yona, and that’s all she ever needs to be.

She looks up at him. “Hak,” she says, smiling. “Let’s go home.”


and when the storm came, with its wind and rain and biting screams… it was only the beginning to a terrible end.

Pairing: Keith and Pidge
series: Voltron: Legendary Defender
music by Olafur Arnalds

“He is not who he says he is…”

The words didn’t hit home until much later. But at this moment all she could do was curl her lips in a sneer and scoff.

“You don’t know him like I do,” Pidge’s response was a snarl and a leer, all too haughty and disdainful. “So you can take your warnings and shove it.”

“Major,” the word of protest from Rolo–the only one who seemed just as shocked at the words from the Lord Lubos–was cut short when Pidge rose from the ground swiftly and stiff. 

Without so much as a bow, Pidge turned her back on the fief lords and strode out, skirts swishing angrily around her legs as she stormed out. 

Keep reading

carr-crashh-heartss  asked:

Ooh, Rebelcaptain, “you’re the only one", please!

“You’re the only one.”

Cassian says this to her as he takes a sip of Alderaanean wine, a pleasant, practiced smile on his face as the Imperial commander and her husband look upon them both patiently.

There’s a hum in Jyn’s ears, and maybe it’s the wine, but she manages her line despite it. “The only one?” she echoes, playing dumb.

The ballroom is bright with lights, excessive in its pomp, and it’s everything in the galaxy that Jyn hates. But she plays her role. She can pretend to be a doting Imperial wife. She’s learning to be a good little spy. It helps that her teacher is the best the rebellion has to offer.

Cassian puts a hand on her chin and tips up her face to look at him. “For me.”

The commander and her husband tilt their heads back and laugh in delight, the sound like the bubbles in their sparkling wine from a dead planet. Jyn stills the rage inside of her and swoons a little into Cassian’s hand.

“You make me blush,” she says, swatting at him playfully, but then she does blush when she looks into his eyes, so intent, so focused in on her. He’s a brilliant spy, she reminds herself, a master actor, and they take their leave of the commander, Cassian’s arm wrapped around her waist, her ballgown swishing behind her as they play at finding somewhere private to be together when their target is actually the heavily guarded room with important intel on weapons runners.

At the opening to the corridor out of the ballroom and toward their destination, she stops Cassian dead. They’ll sell this last moment, she thinks, and then they’ll disappear and be back on base before anyone can remember the names of the two newly married Imperials they were supposed to be.

“What?” he says, and she places her hands on his face and feels the surprise spread there. She’s good at pretending, she thinks, pulling him in for a kiss. He follows her lead, sliding his lips against hers, his mouth opening her mouth. And she’s good at pretending that she’s pretending, she thinks, and maybe he is, too.

Send an angsty/suggestive prompt and pairing and I’ll write a fic

anonymous asked:

"What is it this week?" Christophe asks, and he purposefully eyes Victor's boner. // Victor adjusts his suit pants and glares at him. "He's wearing the Jeans(tm) again." // "He is?" Christophe asks, and glances around. "I'm surprised you're still alive."

When Victor arrives at his apartment later that night, he’s just managed to toe off his Salvatore Ferragamo oxfords when a hand tugs his tie and yanks him forward, pushes him against the wall.

“Careful, that’s Italian silk,” Victor chides. He clicks his tongue but angles his face to the side, lets Yuuri press kisses to his neck.

“Mm. Sorry,” Yuuri murmurs, not sounding sorry at all. “Couldn’t help myself.” He licks a stripe up to Victor’s jaw, then pulls away and looks up at him. “You tortured me all day,” he says accusingly, thumbing at the lapel of Victor’s sports jacket.

Victor shoots him a look of disbelief. Wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and slips a hand into one of his back pockets, applying just the faintest amount of pressure to make Yuuri squirm. “Me torture you? You know what those jeans do to me, gorgeous.” 

Yuuri gives a small smile at that, a light blush spreading over his face that Victor finds irresistible. He ducks down and kisses him, licks into his mouth until Yuuri’s gasping and tugging again at his clothes, and Victor can’t even bring himself to care about the wrinkle damage that’ll leave.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Sana, alone again in the kitchen. Suddenly, Yousef came in with unreadable expression on his face. Of course this is after /the text/ Thank you! :D


 Sana was startled by his voice. She hadn’t expected him to be here. She had just gotten out of the shower. Thank god, her hair was wrapped in towel, but she was still uncomfortable. It was the first time they’d seen each other since Friday. And she hadn’t even gotten a good look at him that night. She was too busy planning her own funeral. She was so sure she’d be dead, when her parents climbed the stairs. But Yousef had saved her. He helped get the girls out. And most importantly, he had taken the wrap for that Vodka incident. She was so grateful after that. For a moment, she’d imagined a future with him. But then, it all came crashing down. ‘I’m not Muslim’ that message was seared into her brain. She couldn’t stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried.

“Hi” she replied. And then, a silence filled the room. She didn’t know what else to say. And apparently neither did he. He just stood still by the doorway. Sana tried to read his expression. Tried to get some sort of clue of what he was feeling. She wanted him to tell her that this was one big joke. That of course he was Muslim. That this wall that had been built between could easily come down.

“Crazy Friday, huh?” she said, trying to fil the silence. It didn’t work. His face didn’t change it. It was strangely intense. Like he was formulating thoughts in real time. And Sana could see it. It was as if she was across the room seeing him talk to somebody, but she just couldn’t make out the words. Sana moved closer to him. He opened his mouth to say something.

“You’re so lucky Yousef’s a great guy” Elias voice felt sharp in the silence. All the sudden, he appeared behind Yousef. He put his arms around Yousef slightly shaking him. Yousef faked a smile. Sana could tell. It didn’t seem natural. Sana didn’t know when she started to know, which one of Yousef’s smiles were real and which were fake, but she knew the difference.

“Yeah” Sana replied. “I’m lucky”. And then she left the kitchen. A world felt between her and Yousef. And she didn’t know how to fix that. She didn’t know if it could even be fixed.

anonymous asked:

peter and gamora for #10 🙏

10. Things you said that made me feel like shit

also for @enigma731, who wanted sick fic

“Peter? Are you okay?”

The response was a pained groan from the other side of the closed door. Gamora didn’t quite know what that meant, so she just shrugged to herself and walked in.

Peter was half laying, half sitting on his bed, leaning his forehead and most of his upper body against the wall behind it. He popped open one eye when she entered and grunted.

“I’m assuming you’re ill,” she said. At least judging by the sounds of vomiting, followed by rigorous tooth-brushing, she’d heard coming from the bathroom earlier.  

He grunted again, which sounded affirmative. Gamora fidgeted a bit, standing awkwardly in the doorway. She wanted to help, but had very little experience with sickness.

“Is there any medicine you can take?”

He sighed, rolling his forehead against the wall a little. “No, it’s just food poisoning.”

“What? You think someone poisoned your food?”

“No, no. It just means I ate something my body didn’t like and now it’s being spiteful. I think it was that weird fruit at the last port.”

Gamora processed that for a moment, then decided it was the wrong time to marvel at how fragile Terrans were. “How long does it last?”

“Usually just a couple hours, unless it’s a really bad one.” He closed his eyes again, and she wondered whether she should just leave him there to sleep. But his face was scrunched up in pain, he had an arm wrapped around his stomach, and there was sweat breaking out over his forehead.

She made a quick decision, leaving the room and returning a moment later with a cold, wet cloth.

He started a bit when she walked in again. “You came back.”

“Of course I came back.” She closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed. Peter moved so his face wasn’t against the wall anymore, allowing her to press the cloth to his forehead. He noticeably relaxed as she dabbed it all around his face, wiping away the perspiration. “Did you think I just abandoned you without a word?”

“No! I just… it’s been a really long time since someone took care of me when I was sick.”

His face actually became tender as he said it, giving her a soft smile, but Gamora’s heart clenched painfully. Thinking about Peter, feeling ill with no one to help… she swallowed, continuing her ministrations with the cloth far longer than she needed to.

“Same for you, I’m sure,” Peter said after a moment.

She shrugged, finally taking the cloth away. “Yes, well… that’s in the past now.”

“Exactly,” he said. “And if there’s ever a sickness that gets past your crazy strong immune system, I’ll be there for you too, to watch you puke and wipe away your gross sweat.”

That was… oddly sweet. “Thank you, Peter. Is there anything else that might make you feel better?”

He got a sweet, playful grin on his face. “Maybe if you held my hand?”

She ducked her head in an unsuccessful attempt to hide a smile. “Alright.” She took one of his hands, lacing their fingers together.

“Much better.” Then he scooted so there was more room on the bed, laying a bit flatter. “I bet I would feel even better if you laid down and snuggled with me.”

She obliged, laying down facing him with their entwined hands between them, letting him throw his other arm over her waist and press their foreheads together.

“Ah, I was right,” he said. “You’re the best doctor in the galaxy.”

Gamora chuckled. “Anything else?” She asked, though Peter’s eyes were already starting to drift closed.

“I think I’d feel even better if you kissed me.”

“Good thing you brushed your teeth,” she muttered before she closed the small distance between them, giving him a gentle, sweet kiss that lasted only a few seconds.

When she pulled away, Peter sighed happily, keeping his eyes closed and settling his head down onto the pillow.

“I’m cured,” he whispered.


Syndisparklez Soulmate AU

They’re teens in this one

where whatever someone writes on their skin appears on their soulmate’s skin on the same spot and disappears only when the first person washes it off from @ineharnia

The idea of soulmates wasn’t exactly a foreign concept to Tom, but this whole skin text messaging thing was. He’d just heard it from his classmate, Ed, who seemed adamant about it being the truth.

“Gimme a pen.” he asked afterwards, deciding it wouldn’t really hurt him to try. Ed passed him a pen and hovered over him, watching intently as Tom tried to think of something to say.

It should be something casual, but not too casual. Tom reasoned, feeling slightly ticklish as the pen’s tip dragged across his skin. Or something meaningful, first impressions are always nice. I’m sure my soulmate would appreciate that.

Unfortunately for his soulmate, Tom was still a proudly immature teenager, so he drew a dick on his forearm.

Keep reading

I Remember You

Summary: You run into someone you knew before the apocalypse and that someone happens to be, Negan.

Sentence starter: “I remember you, I had a crush on you for like a month back when I was like thirteen.”

Pairing: Negan x Reader, Negan x You

Word Count: 1,435 Words

Type: Oneshot at this stage 

Multi-part series, 1 /2

Warnings: Swearing, awful flirting, large age gap (legal age gap, y’all), general Negan stuff.

Rating: Probably like PG13???

Originally posted by thepumpkinqueenn

As you fired another bullet between the branches of the bush you where crouched behind you were suddenly shoved face first in the dirt, the gun being ripped from your grasp. You were roughly pulled from behind the shrub and thrown to your knees in the muck. Your eyes met with a black pair of boots, a barbed wire bat resting on top of the left shoe. As you slowly look up taking in the man standing in front of you, from his blood splattered white shirt to his leather jacket you weren’t expecting to see a familiar grinning face looking down at you. Negan.

“Well shit honey, I did not expect to have someone as cute and small as you firing a fucking M60 in my goddamn direction today – AND! Where in the fuckin’ fuckedy fuck did you manage to find such a badass gun?” He very enthusiastically said, you don’t remember him being so animated. He had always been loud and charismatic but it seemed he had taken on a new persona, like he was playing a modern-day king in a musical.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

wincest + boys getting drunk and being all fluff and cute and telling each other stuff they probably wouldn't sober

This almost got an unexpected and angsty turn, but I think it ended well. Hope you like it! :) 

For Sammy’s 16 birthday, Dean bought him his first drink. He was mature enough and had seen too much evil already, so when he asked Dean if they could celebrate his birthday on a bar, Dean didn’t objected.  They were alone and Dean could only think of giving his baby brother a fun night where they could pretend they were normal and wouldn’t go monster hunting as soon as their dad get back in town.

It turned out that his sasquatch baby brother also could drink like a grown up man. After the first three shots of tequila, Dean lost count of how many came after. That was probably the most of Sam’s teeth that Dean had ever seen and he found himself smiling back to Sam just as big.

The end of the night found them walking through the streets leaning on each other for balance, almost falling more than a few times and laughing so loud Dean was sure they would wake the whole street and he couldn’t care less. Let them wake and see his beautiful baby brother happy and smiling.

When they got to the motel room, Sam asked if they could climb up to the roof and watch the stars, like they used to do when they were little. Dean smiled and nodded, not even thinking of the possibilities, because Sam was happy and he wanted to see a little more of that.

They helped each other climb, still too drunk to do anything properly. When they were both lying on the roof, Sam stretched his long limbs and watched the sky in silence. Dean only had eyes for his brother.

“It’s so beautiful, don’t you think, Dee?” Sam whispered, looking at the sky and then Dean.  

“Nah, not so much. You are beautiful.” Dean was definitely too drunk, but he also was too drunk to care. He smiled when he saw Sammy’s cheeks blush.

“You really think so?” Sam asked, blushing so adorably Dean had to keep himself from reaching out to touch him.

“Yes, especially when you’re smiling so wide and those cute dimples appear. Oh, there they are.” Sam smiled shyly. “No star is a match to that.”

Dean offered his arm for Sam to lay his head and Sam moved closer to him in a second. Dean used his free hand to play with Sam’s hair. They didn’t say anything for a few minutes.

“Do you think I’m more beautiful than the girls you bring home sometimes?” Sam asked and turned his face to look at Dean’s eyes. “I don’t like seeing you with them. Sometimes I want to be like them, so you can look at me the same way.” Sam was definitely too drunk to think about what he was saying, but Dean didn’t mind at all.

“When I’m with them, I always think about you, Sammy. Can’t never get you out of my mind.” That put a smile on Sam’s face and Dean saw it as a sign to keep talking. “I touch them and I kiss them, but I can’t wait to get home and give my little brother a goodnight kiss.”  

“Can you kiss me goodnight now, Dee?” Sam stared at Dean with pleading eyes. Dean’s stomach twirled and his head twisted. He had no idea what he was doing when he pressed his lips on the corner of Sam’s mouth, then kissed the tip of his nose and each of his eyes. It was like a religious ritual, and it sure felt like it in Dean’s heart.

“Goodnight, little brother.”

anonymous asked:

Could you write something where one of the sides has amaurosis fugax ( painless temporary/episodic blindness) and they don't want the others to notice?

I know nothing about this except what a quick google search has given me. So, I don’t feel comfortable writing a fic about it, but I will write a hc list thingy. Please correct any mistakes I’ve made in regards to this! I less had this include the actual causes of amaurosis fugax,  because I don’t know exactly how that type of stuff would work with them being sides.

- You know what they say - “love is blind” - and sometimes, this was true in an almost scary way

- When Roman first discovered he had amaurosis fugax, he was terrified, to say the least. Not that he would ever let on.

- The first time the temporary blindness happens, Roman had just rescued some royalty from a dragon witch. Luckily, he had already taken out the enemy and just needed to get the royalty back to the castle safely. Suddenly, it’s as though a black cloth has been put over his eyes.

- It’s a couple minutes before his vision returns and he is doing his best to stay calm

- Once he gets back to the shared part of the mindscape, he goes immediately to the library (which is typically Logan’s domain) to do research. This is where he comes across the term “amaurosis fugax”

- He refuses to tell the others about this though. He is meant to be the fearless prince. The prince that has no weaknesses.

- Everyone starts picking up on signs that something is wrong though.

- They start to ask questions. Why does Roman suddenly know exactly how many steps it takes to get everywhere in the main part of the mindscape? Why has he suddenly stopped joining them when they go new places when even Anxiety agrees to go with? Why has he stopped making so many trips to go on quests?

- Then one day something terrible happens to Roman. He had gone out on a quest, one that suppose to be simple. He had another episode though and ended getting hurt, worse than he had in the past.

- When he is returned home in his injured state Patton immediately puts him on bed rest ( not that Roman can argue anyway, he’s in too much pain). The other sides finally have a chance to question him. Their main question is how the heck did you manage to get this hurt?

-Roman refuses to answer them

-That is until he is high on pain killers

-He ends up spilling exactly what’s going on, what happened and what he knows about it.

-The others are quick to take on any thoughts that they’re going to think less of their Prince over something like this; an illness that can’t be helped.

-The others then start making efforts to make Roman’s life easier when he has his episodes

anonymous asked:

Kind of a Drabble idea but like it's fine if you don't just like Jason hugging bizarro or Artemis hugging bizarro just like some hugging bizarro because I love him and I can't hug him cause he's not real but he's real in my heart and he deserves all the hugs

On screen the character turned a corner, coming face to face with a lumbering zombie. The screen tinted red as it attacked.

Bizarro, sitting next to Jason with his eyes fixed on the screen, nearly jumped out of his seat.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Jason grimaced, shooting the zombie and healing the character before moving on.

“Bizarro am scared,” Bizarro replied.  

“Not all zombies are scary.” Another corner, another zombie. This time, Jason jumped as well. “Yeah, okay. How about next game we go with something that takes place in sunlight.”

Bizarro shifted on the couch so he was closer to Jason.

Jason glanced over. “Need a hug, big guy?”

Nodding, Bizarro reached over and pulled Jason against his side, hugging him close.

From the television came a shriek as another zombie descended on their character. Bizarro’s arms tightened around Jason.

Jason put down the controller. “No more zombie games, got it.”

cant-we-just-dance  asked:

11 Jamilton, please. Thank you for using my prompt meme, it took a lot of effort and I'm glad that someone likes it.

No problem and thanks for posting! <3

“ 11. Growing up together and sending paper airplanes to the other person’s window each night “

The first time it happened, Alex was talking too loud again. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t at least partially because of his asshole of a neighbour, Thomas, was trying to do homework.

Alex really hated that guy. Right from the first day he moved in with the Washingtons and went to greet the “just a little older than you and a little shy, but I’m sure you’d get along” kid next door. He’d had his hopes of friendship rebutted with a wrinkled nose at Alex’s missing baby tooth and the dirt under his fingernails; replaced with an eternal rivalry with a haughty sniff and a slammed door in Alex’s face.

By some unfortunate arrangement, their bedrooms, both on their houses respective second floors, faced each other. Only a few meters of open air separated one window from another. Alex wasted no time getting into the habit of always peeking at Thomas’ room before doing anything else. Which was why Thomas scratching a pencil against his head and pulling at his own bushy hair while huddled over the day’s homework was the perfect time to make a phone call. It was an even more perfect time to make a phone call to his friend Hercules to ask him if he needed any help with today’s work, because the math was just so easy and obvious to him, and wouldn’t it be a shame if someone was left having trouble with it?

Alex should have expected some kind of retaliation. In fact, he did expect one, just not so soon. Nor did he expect it in the form of a perfectly crafted paper airplane bouncing off the floor of his room with a sudden smack that made him jump.

Alex hastily hung up. He glared out his window at the only possible perpetrator. Thomas was out of sight from his vantage point. Either he’d run off or hidden after throwing the plane, and either way, Alex wasn’t impressed.

He snatched the paper plane, fully intending to send it flying straight back where it came. He’d teach that asshole Thomas not to throw trash through his window. But, hidden under the fold of lined school paper was a thick line. If there was one thing Alex was weak to, it was curiosity. Well, that and proving himself and/or others wrong, if Alex was being honest. He unfolded the plane. In giant letters that took up the whole page were two words.

“Shut Up!”

Alex wrinkled his nose. He’d shut up, alright- and give Thomas a taste of his own medicine. Alex reached into his school binder for a blank paper.

After that day, the floodgates Alex hadn’t even known about were opened. Naturally, Thomas could never leave well enough alone and had to send a paper plane back the next day. Alex had no choice but to respond.

It started with base insults. The kinds of things Alex would shout to Thomas any day, or even through the window. But Thomas always shut it closed when that happened. The paper planes, however, were always read, and always returned, even if not right away. It was a form of power Alex didn’t always have in verbal conversations.

“nice job arguing with the teacher today, idiot”

“nice job being a teachers pet”

Slowly, over the months and without Alex even realizing, the insults morphed into actual advice. There was so much space, and Alex loved writing as much as he loved proving himself. Thomas wasn’t far behind, despite his superior attitude.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know the answer to today’s history question. Read the handouts, maybe.”

“You act like large multiplication is impossible. It’s just like single digit, but longer.”

“How did it feel coming in second to Aaron in the spelling bee? Acquaintance is spelled with an ‘a’, not an 'e’.”

Nothing changed on the surface, the paper planes like their own little world. Alex sent and received them daily; for months, then into the next year, and then into the next.

“Son, can I speak with you for a moment?” George asked one day, trying to hide a smile behind his hand.

Alex shot his adoptive father a suspicious look. “Okay.”

“Alright, son, I just want you to know that Martha and I both support and love you, okay? No matter who you have a crush on.”

Alex jumped at the words, his mind somehow flashing to a bushy head of hair and sharp, biting, intelligent words. “Wh-what are you talking about!? I don’t have a crush!”

George’s smile widened. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Of course, son. Though, you might want to work on your aim. Those paper planes that miss do have to land somewhere, and your mother and I have gotten tired of plucking them out of the side-yard hedges.

Alex flushed cherry red. George clapped him on the back-shoulder and walked away with a laugh.

The thing was, Alex hadn’t considered the idea at all. Thomas was… Thomas. An infuriating know-it-all who lived to argue with him. But he wasn’t just that anymore, not since there paper plane letters had turned to actual venting and support. Thomas shit talked Mr. Lee when he gave Alex detention over nothing. Alex shit talked Mr. Adams when he lost his temper and swore at Thomas in front of the whole school.

A plane skidded across Alex’s floor, and he jumped from his thoughts. It was just an innocent piece of paper. An innocent piece of paper that represented years of exchanges with someone who was a mortal enemy, a kind-of friend, and now, apparently, a crush. Alex unfolded the paper.

“I’m bored, entertain me! >:^(“

Alex snorted loudly, glancing out the window. Thomas stared back, raising a brow pointedly. He’d come a long way from hiding every time he sent a letter. Alex considered what to say, and then got out his pencil.

“Let’s go see a movie, then. Lego Batman is still showing at 6”

Alex liked to take chances with things he wanted, because most of the time, that was the only way Alex could even get what he wanted. This was no different. He sneaked a quick peek- Thomas was staring at the open paper and his ears were red. Alex grinned.

This was uncharted territory, but Alex was used to uncharted territory. He could manage one date.

Mick Rory deserves to be with the kind of person who insists on making Burning Love their Official Song™ and sings it to him drunk on karaoke nights, and blasts it through the kitchen on lazy Sunday mornings as they do dishes and dance around barefoot and totally wheedle Mick into dancing with them, and gets the band to play a slow, romantic cover at their wedding for their first dance as a married couple.