go on tell me this didn't make you smile from ear to ear

anonymous asked:

I love your stories! Can you maybe write one of the chocobros initially hating their s/o and slowly realizing they were stupidly in love but didn't know how to express it correctly?? (I'm sorry if it's confusing)

OMG thank you! These types are always cute, I hope I did enough variety for you!  (I also have no idea how they got so long)



“Oh hell no.” Noctis groaned, as they entered Hammerhead, seeing the woman standing beside Cindy. “Ignis keep going.”

“Noctis, we need to fix the Regalia.”

“We’ll walk.”

“Noct you’re being ridiculous.”

“We don’t need to go here, we can just push it until we get to the next mechanic.”

“Dude, that’s like another 20 miles.” Prompto whined.

“Don’t care, I’ll push it there by myself.”

Ignis sighed, putting on the parking brake, as the young Prince attempted to keep pushing the car forward. Only to give up and hide behind the door, as the two women approached the car.

“Oh so that’s the reason.” Gladiolus chuckled.

“Was starting to worry something happen to you boys.” You smiled.

“Uh, which one of ya’ll the Prince?” Cindy inquired.

Ignis groaned, as he looked down, “Noctis, get up.”

Noctis moaned as he stood up, his eyes ignoring you standing beside Cindy, “Hey.”

You smiled stepping toward Ignis, and Gladiolus, “Oh you must be Prompto, nice to meet you, I’m Y/N.” You called to the blonde a smile on your face.

“Yeah, nice, nice to meet you too.” Prompto waved nervously as Noctis rolled his eyes.

“I’ll take care of everything with Cindy, you boys can go rest your legs, that must have been a long walk.” You smiled heading back into the garage.

“Y/N hasn’t changed a bit.” Gladiolus chuckled.

Noctis groaned as he stalked off, “You say that, like it’s a good thing.”

Prompto moved beside Ignis, “What’s with him?”

Ignis chuckled, “A very old story.”

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Highway (Part 8)

Originally posted by xopsychogirlxo

Summary: There’s a charming man that enters the diner like he owns the place, like he owns the town. And when he’s calling you baby doll, with a devilish smirk on his face and a twinkle of silver in his baby blues, you know you won’t be able to stop yourself from falling for the infamous Bucky Barnes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Wordcount: 3,190

Part 1  / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8


He was in love with you.

Bucky Barnes was in love with you.

And it hit you harder than a ton of bricks.

You wanted so desperately to tell him that your date with Brock was so absolutely terrible because Brock wasn't Bucky. Because Brock wasn’t sweet like Bucky, he wasn’t kind and funny and he didn't smile like Bucky. 

Bucky’s smile had been imprinted into the back of your mind, and it’s still there, haunting you as you studied the voicemail over and over again. You studied the intricacies of his tones, the shifting in his voice and the small nervous chuckles he released every now and then.

His voice was a lullaby in and of itself, a beautiful lull full of profundity and velvet that was more than capable of keeping you up all night. Words tumbled from his lips like coarse sugar, spilling and filling into your attentive ears.

I think I’m fallin’ in love with you…

I know you’re probably not… entirely sure about who I am.

I used to be Sergeant Barnes, but now I’m just Bucky.

I’m sorry, sweet girl…that I'm just Bucky. I don’t have much to offer. Hell, I’m deaf in one ear 'n sometimes I wake up thinkin’ I’m gonna get shot through the window…sometimes I drink a little here 'n there, I take it too far sometimes. Helps me forget, though. 

But, y'know, lately, you’ve been helpin’ me forget too.

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anonymous asked:

no i rlly lved the drbel & since u've agreed i hve this idea stuck in my hd like 4ever tht evr since dan met phl he loved to come up from behind n cuddle himn whisper cute things to him n kiss his neck etc& phil got all shy/ slowly he felt dan grow in height from how his head came b/w phil's shoulder blades to resting his chin on top of phil's head & in a vry busy week like dan didn't do it & phil missed it so much tht he led dan up behind him while he wshed dishes & wrped his arms rnd hmslf agh

Fic under the cut, as it turned into more than either of us was probably expecting!

carry me through the dark

summary: the one where dan was always phil’s strength, and his confidence, and he holds him up through it all.


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anonymous asked:

One of Adam's firsts? Something he didn't have the chance to do as a kid because his dad thought it was a waste of time or money? Adam's first petting zoo/Aquarium? Adam's first amusement park? Adam's first, uh, airplane ride/vacay out of Virginia?

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Ronan says, cautiously. Ronan is hardly ever cautious, which makes Adam feel even worse.

“It’s fine,” he replies flatly, drying his palms on his jeans. Ronan, as always hyper-aware of Adam’s hands, gives him a skeptical look.

“I can see that. Listen, it’s not too late to cancel.” 

Adam can tell both that Ronan doesn’t want to cancel, and that he would in a heartbeat.

“It is too late to cancel,” he says stubbornly. “We would lose the money.”

“I’m not exactly terrified, Parrish.”

Adam throws him a withering glance. “Some of us don’t have the ability to just dream up checks.”

Ronan shrugs. It’s not real, this sparring, Adam knows that, even though only a year and some change ago it would have devolved into an absolutely real and ugly fight. The calculated insolence in the set of Ronan’s shoulders means he’s putting on an act, pushing Adam’s buttons with the spoilt Aglionby prince attitude, in an effort to distract him from his nerves. Adam is a little awed – both at Ronan’s strange brand of thoughtfulness and at their ability to read each other so well. He guesses dating for a year will do that.

A year. He can hardly believe it. And yet they’ve lasted this long, in spite of demons, hit men, and the various obstacles of long-distance relationships. And that’s why they’re here, at an airport, waiting to board a flight to Paris for their first anniversary. Paris, of all places. That’s something else Adam can’t believe.

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thewanderingdreamer  asked:

Headcanon: The Slytherin Prefects having a rough batch of first years who are crying/upset about being in Slytherin when they reach the dungeons. So they go get Professor Potter, who is not much better with crying first years, until he's honest with them. "Look I didn't want to be in Slytherin at your age either, but I can tell you I'm proud of each of these Slytherins, and I know I'll be proud of you too." The Prefects being at first annoyed, then reluctantly enjoying his frankness.

Even now, so many years later, Harry remembers what it’s like to be eleven years old. With near painful clarity, he remembers standing in the entry way to the Great Hall, listening to the nervous shuffling and whispering from the other students around him. “What house do you think you’ll be in?” “Anything but slytherin. I’ll take hufflepuff before I take slytherin.” Harry only has a basic sense of what those words mean, but he recognizes all too well the tone they’d said “slytherin” in. The same tone Uncle Vernon used when he talked about “hippies”. 

When the Sorting Hat was dropped over his ears and the Great Hall disappeared, the anxiety was enough to nearly choke him. He listened to the hat whisper in his ear, saying “slytherin” like some dark promise. He’d begged at the time, anything but slytherin, anything but slytherin

Now, sitting in front of eleven year old equally as, if not more, upset than he had been, he decided to be honest. He’d been honest with the Sorting Hat and they deserved that same level of honesty. 

The Prefects had trusted him the least when he’d become their House Head. It hadn’t been easy for them to protect their younger housemates from the scorn of the other houses and even harder to fulfill their duties as Prefects when three fourths of the houses refused to listen to them half the time. What was Harry Potter, the boy who lived to defeat Voldemort, the heir to Slytherin, going to do for the young snakes crying in front of them? They’d seen no other option though, so they reluctantly marched the sniffling first years to Harry’s office and barged in the door without knocking. 

“We’re just not sure what to do.”

Harry looked down at the six students in front of him, tears stained faces with red rimmed eyes. There was awe in some of them, fear in others. Harry swallowed past the nervous ball in his throat. 

“Uhm, ah, everyone sit down. Prefects, you may return to the dungeons, I’ll escort them back in a little while.” They were halfway to the door when he rushed to add a, “Thank you.” They looked at him with unfathomable eyes before shrugging and disappearing out the door. 

“So,” he started after a beat of awkward silence, “Tell me what’s going on?”

They all rushed to explain, tripping over their words and speaking over each other. Harry held up a hand when he’d heard enough, effectively silencing them. 

“I’m going to be honest with he,” he said seriously, “I didn’t want to be in slytherin either. The only reason I was in Gryffindor was because I asked the Sorting Hat not to put me in slytherin. 

He rushed to keep speaking when they started to open their mouths again, undoubtedly about to ask him if they were allowed to go ask the Sorting Hat too, “I asked for that for the wrong reasons. I thought that slytherin house was bad. I thought that it was the house for dark wizards and witches. I thought that I wouldn’t be able to make any friends because how could I be like them?”

A sense of panic overtook the first years, as if he was confirming all their darkest thoughts. Harry smiled reassuringly. 

“I was wrong, though. Some of the bravest, best people I’ve known have come from slytherin house. Some of the most cowardly of men have come from gryffindor. There is no right or wrong house to be in. If the Sorting Hat thinks that you’ll succeed in slytherin, it’s because you have all the potential and traits to do so. And I’m here to help you do that.”

The first years calmed, thinking this over and staring at him with calculating eyes. One by one, they slowly nodded and wiped away tear tracks from their cheeks. Harry grinned triumphantly and stood from his desk. 

“Now, why don’t we return to the common room. I’ll introduce you to some of the mermaids that like to sit by the windows.”

The walk to the dungeon was filled with excited questions and bright eyes. 

Shadows and Darkness: One and the Same (ch.1)

Next Chapter >>

This fic is meant to be read in connection with my Azriel-centric prequel stories. I would highly suggest reading those first to get the full reading experience of this fic. 

It’s finally here, friends! Chapter 1 of the follow up fic to my Azriel-centric prequels which you should definitely read before reading this if you haven’t already. This fic will span across and after the events of ACOWAR. 

I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, it will explain (almost) everything that has happened since the end of the prequels up until now concerning our dearest Lena. Enjoy!

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anonymous asked:

The reader eloping with the Gladio and the chocobros as best men? Maybe her parents didn't want them married?

This is so cuuuuuuuute omg. I hope this is okay, I think it’s a little rushed but I hope you enjoy in any case. Just a small drabble to tide you guys over, maybe I’ll revisit this idea some day. ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

“Where are we going?” Prompto whined from the back seat. “And how come I can’t drive shotgun?”

“Pipe down,” Gladio ordered from behind the wheel, shooting him an irate glance in the rearview mirror. You gently patted his arm from the seat beside him, a small smile on your face. You and Gladio had told your friends that you wanted to take them on a small road trip, but didn’t tell them where you were going. You loaded them up in the back of the Regalia, and started off down the road.

“I must admit,” Ignis chimed in from the back seat. “I’m rather curious as to our destination. We seem to be heading south—what business could the two of you possibly have south of the Crown City?”

“Just enjoy the ride, Iggy,” you replied coyly, turning to wink at him. “You’ll see soon enough.”

The drive was long, and the sun beat down from the sky. But Prompto kept asking where you were going and if you were there yet, and Gladio kept barking at him that you were getting close.

Eventually, the Regalia pulled into the parking lot and Gladio stopped the car.

Noctis peered around, and saw nothing but ocean, a blue horizon for as far as the eye could see. “Are we in Galdin Quay?”

“Galdin Quay?” Prompto repeated. “What are we doing here?”

“Fishing trip?” Noctis asked, his voice carrying a hopeful tone.

“No,” you answered, stepping out of the car and pulling out a duffel bag from the trunk. You looked over at Gladio, whose face was rosy as he bit back a smile. “Gladdy and I are getting married.”

Noctis and Prompto almost fell out of the car, while Ignis gracefully exited on the other side.

“You’re getting WHAT?”

“Fill them in, would you, hon?” you rose to your tip toes to give Gladio a peck on the lips. “I’m going to check into our rooms.”

He nodded and swatted your ass as you walked away, earning a yelp and a playful glare as you headed towards the reception desk. Gladio turned to see his three friends staring impatiently at him, demanding an explanation.

“Well?” Prompto asked, tapping his foot against the ground with his arms folded over his chest. “When were you gonna tell us, Big Guy?”

Gladio scratched at the back of his head. “We didn’t want to make a big deal of it,” he admitted. “You know how her parents are. They don’t really approve of our relationship.”

“Have they ever offered you an explanation as to why, aside from the fact that your profession keeps you tied to the Crown?” Ignis inquired, his hands on his hips.

Gladio shook his head. “No. I think maybe they just don’t like me. Can’t say that us eloping is going to do me any favours, but…” he sighed, looking off at where you were. “I love her. And I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Noctis punched Gladio on the bicep, and then recoiled, shaking out his hand. Gladio snorted. “I’m happy for you, Gladio,” he said once he recovered. “I remember when you met her. You told me and the guys that you wanted to marry her right then and there.”

Gladio shrugged. “That hasn’t changed. Clearly.”

“Come,” Ignis led his friends in the direction of the hotel. “I think it’s best that we get the groom ready for his own wedding.”

The sun was starting to set at the end of the dock as Gladio stood there next to the pastor, waiting for you to arrive. He’d changed into white pants and a white button-down shirt, opting to actually wear it properly this time. His friends stood alongside him in a row, and Prompto had his camera at the ready.

Small white twinkle lights lined the railings of the dock, and little candles were on each side, creating an aisle that led to the groom.

When Gladio saw you, his jaw slowly dropped.

You were dressed in a simple white gown, spaghetti-strapped and flowing around your frame, your hair curled neatly over one shoulder. You wore a bird-cage veil that was pinned to the side of your head, and in your hand you held a bouquet of light pink gladioli.

You smiled when you reached him, and could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes. Ignis took the flowers from you and you gripped onto Gladio’s hands, which were clammy and shaking. You were sure that yours were the same.

The pastor made his speech. He turned to Gladio, and he turned to you. He had you repeat each other’s names, and then Gladio pulled the rings out of his pocket. He put yours on your finger, whispering his vows in your ear with a trembling voice. You put the ring on his, trying to get the words out past the tears pricking the corners of your eyes and the tightness of your throat.

Finally, you heard the words. “You may kiss the bride.”

Gladio wasted no time, pulling you against him and pressing his lips against yours. He dipped you down low as your arms came to wrap around his neck. The guys cheered and Prompto snapped away with his camera, blubbering at how romantic it was.

“I love you,” Gladio whispered into your ear. “Until my dying breath, I love you.”

You looked up at your new husband and smiled so wide that your cheeks hurt, never wanting the moment to end. You rose to your toes and kissed him again as the sun dipped below the horizon, signalling the start of your new life together.

anonymous asked:

Hey! If you are willing I have a prompt for you. The whole war thing makes Lance very cold-blod and merciless but paladins didn't notice until he put a gun to someone head and threats to kill them. You canon use sth like: "Sorry Princess but war also make killers " :). My English sucks but your writing is so amazing and good to read! :)


Mentions of Death and Blood 

Lance knew that he was changing, and not in the good way. It was gradual at first, something that you wouldn’t have noticed unless you stared hard enough. He was slowly becoming numb, not to just the loud bangs that filled his ears every morning. He was becoming numb to everything. Fighting, the injuries, the plans, the killing. Nothing phased him anymore and Lance soon found himself not even blinking at what he had to do to complete a mission.

“Lance!? Are you okay? We completed our side of the mission, where are you?” Hunk slide into Yellow’s seat as he adjusted his helmet before grabbing onto the controls.  

Lance straightened his back and wiped his hand down his armor, ignoring the deep red color that he smeared down his torso. He filled his lungs with the artificial air that filled his suit and looked up at the sky. Twenty seven, he glanced down at the fallen soldier, his face blank with any emotion. No remorse, no regret, just the adrenaline slowly leaving from the fight. 

“Yeah, I’m all done. I’m heading back to Blue now. See you back at the castle.” He reached for his bayard and began his short journey back towards his lion, finding the wet wipes he had stored in her while she flew back to the castle. He didn’t want to scare the team. 


“Alright does everyone understand the plan?” Shiro questioned as he glanced around the room, his eyes scanning everyone’s faces. Everyone nodded and Shiro motioned for everyone to head to there lions. 

“You nervous Lance?” Hunk put a small laugh in his voice and Lance barely even shrugged. 

“It’s just a mission.” His voice held no emotion, but no one seemed to notice. 

“Just a mission?! We won’t even be in our lions for this! This is going to be the biggest on ground fight of our lives.” Hunk panicked slightly and Lance brushed him off before stopping by his elevator. 

“What will be, will be. I’ll see you down there Hunk.” Lance shut the door. 


Lance glanced around a corner, taking a quick glance at the empty hallway before pushing himself back against the wall. He looked down at the map on his forearm and frowned slightly, he still had quite a ways to go until he reached the center of the complex. 

He rechecked the hallway before tiptoeing out into the open, gripping his bayard tightly in his hands. His heart rate was completely calm, like he was chilling at the castle. Missions no longer made him nervous or anxious, it was just an everyday event to him. 

“Lance how are you doing? It looks like you’re the closest so far.” Coran’s voice filled the silence of the coms and Lance smiled slightly. 

“Good, I haven’t run into anybody yet. It’s been empty.” He turned down another hallway, not even bothering to check anymore, no one was near him anymore. 

“Well hopefully it stays that way, everyone else has been getting his hard. Check in when you reach the center.” Coran laughed slightly and the coms clicked off. 

Why do they get all the fun? Lance looked at the ground and bite the inside of his cheek, whatever let’s get this mission done and over with. 


Lance wasn’t bored forever, the central complex had the highest security that Lance had ever seen. Sanctuaries filled the room and Lance took aim at all of them, his finger pulling down the trigger. 

Shoots filled the air and Lance could hear his team asking him what was going on but Lance couldn’t answer. He could only smile and fire. 

After a few more ticks Lance lowered his gun and walked towards the center of the room, where an old Galran sat, he looked tired and his ears sagged as his dull yellow eyes as he watched Lance walk up to him. 

“That was quite the show, Bue paladin.” The Galrans voice was rough and slowly and Lance placed his gun on his shoulder. 

“Thanks old man, now I’m here for some information on how to take down the Galra empire, apparently you know everything there is to offer.” Lance made sure his voice was clear and he reached up and clicked off the coms, ignoring his teammates. 

“Why should I tell you anything?” A cough filled the air and Lance took a step forward. 

“Because you’re defenseless and I have a gun.” Lance’s voice sounded boring and he shrugged his shoulders. 

“Like you’re going to shoot me, paladins don’t kill.” The elderly Galaran laughed and Lance took a few steps forward, bringing his gun down. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the rest of his team. 

“He’s right Lance! The code of the paladins is to not kill unless absolutely necessary. This is not a needed time for such behaviour.” Allura ran over to him, her finger gently touching his shoulder. 

Lance nodded and stepped away from the Galran, fighting the urge to just do what he wanted to do, instead he listened to Allura and Shiro attempted to reason with the Galran. 

Lance couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t listen to his teammates attempt to reason with someone who believed that he was safe, so he did the next best thing. “Move,” he growled as he shoved past everyone, quickly changing his gun to a handgun and placing it by the Galrans head, ignoring how his eyes went wide with fear. “Tell us what we want to know or I’ll shoot.” He kept his voice low and rough but Lance knew that everyone heard him anyways. 

Voices from his teammates filled the air but Lance only listened to the one voice he wanted to hear, the Galrans. “You won’t.” 

Lance cocked the gun and he swore he saw the Galran turn pale.”Try me.” 

“Fine! I’ll te-ell you alright! Ju-ust put the gun d-down.”  He stuttered and Lance waited a few ticks before stepping away, leaving the talking to Shiro and Keith as Allura dragged him out of the room. 

“What the hell was that?!” Allura crossed her arms and started down at her teammates, even using the English words Pidge had taught her. 

“What I did what was needed to pass the mission, it’s what we do.” He was bored and he looked down the hallway, looking for anything. 

“You’re a paladin, we don’t kill, we’re simply in war, that’s all.” She touched the younger boys shoulder and Lance flicked her hand away. 

“Sorry Princess but war also make killers, I’m heading back to Blue.” Lance turned and started his track back to his lion, beginning to whistle as he walked down the hallway. 

My poor son. 

I hope you like it!!!!

Thank you!!!!

I’m here.

@prinxietyhell u said u wanted to see this

so. i decided to actually write a fanfic for the first time in forever. and it’s prinxiety, which i’ve never written before. don’t worry, i’ve used proper grammar in the actual fic, lowercase is only my aesthetic in contexts where it’s appropriate.

trigger warnings: anxiety/panic attacks, self-hate, suicidal thoughts (at one point)

ship is, as i said, prinxiety, but it’s really light and can probably be seen as platonic if that’s what u want.

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in loving memory

pairing: jeongguk x reader
genre: angst
word count: 12,170
warnings: terminal illness, hospitals, needles, etc; 
note: put a tiny bit of a twist on this one, but i’m not sure how to categorize the concept itself. it involves a japanese legend that i based off on the children’s book Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes.

Originally posted by jessabella-hime

Jeon Jeongguk is ill.

It first surfaced when he was out playing with his friends, running along with them one summer morning, his shoes scraping against the pavement as he ran fast to keep up. In the midst of it all, as he was reaching out to tap his friend’s shoulder and finally get his revenge on him, Jeongguk suddenly felt his legs collapse from underneath him and soon the soft skin of his cheek met with the coarse concrete. He remembered his friends running to get his parents and when his father carried him in his arms, he fell unconscious and woke up in a cold hospital room where his mother sobbed quietly.

Jeongguk was eleven years old when he was diagnosed with something that he commonly referred to as what made people treat him differently.

The changes that came with this revelation were drastic. Jeongguk often had to miss out on school for weeks at a time, staying in the vicinity of a hospital where he lay in bed all day under careful observation by doctors. What used to be time spent for learning and making friends is now scheduled for routine check ups and treatment. Even the people Jeongguk had considered friends whispered about him and steered cleared of him, even though his illness isn’t contagious in any way. In truth, it was their parents that made his old friends avoid him, used him and his sickness as a way of threatening their children when they weren’t obedient.

“Go study, or else you’ll end up like that Jeon kid!” They would say variations of this, as if Jeongguk had been reduced to some kind of curse that only existed when fear is the only thing that would get through their young minds.

As a result, Jeon Jeongguk often felt lonely, having only minimal conversations with the nurses that routinely checked up on him while he stays in the hospital, and his family who try their best to look as if their youngest isn’t burdened by what could possibly be a terminal illness. The doctors called him a fighter, and Jeongguk would smile up at them with eyes filled with certainty because he believed them and will try his best to endure every process he has to undergo to get better.

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anonymous asked:

Hello, first I must say I'm very fond of your writing! Second, I have a prompt for you ^^ : Qui Gon didn't take Obi Wan as his padawan (the reason is up to you). Instead Dooku or Yoda (I can't choose which I want to hear the most about...) takes him. If it's Dooku the reaction of Qui Gon to a very much younger brother padawan would be very fun and the same goes for Dooku with Yoda. I hope it's ok and understanddable ^^" Thank you for all you do <3

Hey, it’s been a while since you sent this and I’m sorry I didn’t get to it earlier - it seemed like a prompt that needed a 300,000 word fic to go along with it, and not just a oneshot, so I focused on my other fics instead. Sorry. :P I’ve figured out a way around it, though - this is Qui-Gon meeting Obi-Wan, in a supposed AU where Dooku took Obi-Wan as his padawan.

A note to my regular readers: Dooku is not nearly as much of a bat without compassion as he is in canon or TSS, here. He’s almost…nice. And Xanatos stayed with the Order; everything is fluffy clouds and unicorns.

A Much Younger Brother

“Qui-Gon,” a familiar, smooth voice says, over Qui-Gon’s shoulder. “I see you have returned.”

Biting back a retort that a sudden appearance over one’s shoulder in the nearly-dark Archives after a year-long mission qualifies more as a jump-scare than anything, Qui-Gon turns in place, murmuring respectfully, “Master, I trust you are-”

He stops. Stares.

There is a pair of bright blue yes peeking out from behind Dooku’s expansive, dark cloak.

Qui-Gon looks up at his former master, one arm still slung over the back of his chair in the act of standing up.

“Qui-Gon,” his former master says, inconsequentially - “My new apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Obi-Wan - my former apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn.”

Dooku moves aside slightly as he says this, and the blue eyes are revealed to be set in a little elfin face, below untamed, russet locks and above what looks like a horrendously cute pair of dimples.

“Greetings, Master Jinn,” a flute-like voice says, as the little padawan bows.

Qui-Gon notes that Obi-Wan’s new padawan braid is so short that it does not swing with the movement - it sticks straight out behind his ear, instead.

Inexplicably, the image almost makes Qui-Gon let loose a chortle. As it is, he has to hide a cough as he stands.

Obi-Wan straightens, and takes in Qui-Gon gargantuan height and well-grown beard. His eyes widen, and he looks suddenly back at his master, and at his lineage-brother again, and then back at his master-

“I think your new padawan’s re-evaluating your possible age,” Qui-Gon says, dryly.

“Nonsense,” Dooku says. “If anything, your beard appears to have gone prematurely grey.”

“Says the man with the silver-edged hair.”

“I’m only a decade your senior,” Dooku counters.

Obi-Wan visibly perks up, interested.

Qui-Gon leans down and whispers in his ear. “I’m forty-five standard.”

Obi-Wan grins, widely. “Got it,” he whispers back. “I’m eleven standard.”

“Qui-Gon,” Dooku says, with a longsuffering sigh. “What did you tell him?”

“I said nothing of your age, Master,” Qui-Gon deadpans as he straightens. “Dinner?”

Obi-Wan perks up even more at that, if it were possible; he almost seems to bounce.

Dooku glances down at him. “It would seem wise.”

They leave the archives for the refectory together, Qui-Gon striding beside Dooku, and Obi-Wan a half-step to the side and one step behind Dooku’s right shoulder.

Until, of course, the two masters separate slightly, leaving a space between them, and a little beckoning of Qui-Gon’s hand is all the prompting Obi-Wan needs to dart forward and walk with his master on one side and his lineage-brother on the other.

“Obi-Wan, remind me to introduce you to Feemor and Xanatos.”

“You will most certainly not, Qui-Gon-”

“They’ll be good influences!”

“Do exactly the opposite of what they tell you to, padawan,” Dooku advises.

“Yes, Master.” A pause. “Even if they tell me to follow you and Master Jinn’s orders?”

Qui-Gon throws back his head and laughs out loud, even as his former master’s faint smile shows itself a pace to his right.


I might feel inclined to add to this AU sometimes, so I’ve tagged this little brother AU. All future add-ons to this AU will be in that tag.

Thanks for waiting for this, anon! And thank you <3

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Hello, Love bugs.

Draco X Reader 

Hi could I get a Draco x reader where the reader is shy towards Draco which he just finds adorable :) - @nicolesyneah25

It feels like you just can’t escape him. Every class you have he is there. Every time you walk around the grounds you seem to run into him. You have always had a crush on Draco. Since the day you met him on the train you knew you were going to be caught up in him. Even when he was a royal ass to everyone you knew that he was sweet deep down. 

He constantly makes you blush when the two of you lock eyes. Usually, it’s when he catches you staring out into space. Space happens to be his face but that’s not the point.The worst was in the third year potions class. He had heard a rumour that you may have a small crush on you. Being Draco he simply waltzed up to you with grace and confidence. It didn’t help that he was wearing his famous smirk as he made his way up to make you flustered beyond belief. 

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my birthday present for @lio-zehel!!! little bit of jerejean flirtiness for you 🎉🎉🎉

As far as Jean can tell, there’s nothing about clubbing that Jeremy doesn’t like.

He loves people, and there are always plenty of those. He likes loud music, and dancing. He also likes ordering drinks at the bar, which is just weird, but probably has something to do with the fact that bartenders fall over themselves to serve him.

“Incredible,” Alvarez observes, as once again Jeremy is suddenly at the bar ordering while other people have probably been waiting fifteen minutes. “This isn’t even a gay club.”

“It’s a talent,” Laila replies. “Or maybe it’s the jeans.” She looks at Jean. “Did you pick those out?”

Jean looks back at her. “I’ve tried to throw them out twice now.”

The jeans in question are more holes than fabric, and not in the fashionably distressed way either. Somehow Jeremy is making them work for him anyway. Jean looks away from the matchbook-sized hole in the thigh under Jeremy’s ass for the third time tonight.

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anonymous asked:

In the goingtoburn AU, we have Obi-Wan being super protective of his padawan. Why? Maybe because someone (within the order or on a mission) hurt/try to hurt Obi-Wan when he was a small padawan and Qui-Gon didn't believe him/didn't do anything to help him). The council starts to investingate and the truth comes out. Mace/Plo Koon are super kind and help him/listen to him.

“Did someone hurt you like that Master Obi-Wan?”

The question had been posed so innocently from Anakin in light of what they had been talking about, the others frown almost a pout as he stared up at his suddenly frozen master.

The council ripped themselves from the discussion about what to do about Palpatine and his unnatural interest in a fourteen year old padawan (and the potential that he may have done so to other padawans of the order and Force wasn’t that a terrifying aspect) to focus on the young Knight.

Obi-Wan shifted a bit, unable to hold anyone’s gaze. “This isn’t about me Anak-”

“Obi-Wan.” Plo’s voice was terribly kind and Obi-Wan flinched slightly at the tone, hands twitching as he barely resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself.

“…It doesn’t matter. Its in the past.” He mumbled, swallowing a bit.

It sounded like Obi-Wan was trying to convince himself more then the council and Mace and Yoda exchanged understanding looks as Obi-Wan’s protective streak may have come from experiencing the kind of abuse he feared Palpatine wished to do against Anakin.

“Says so you do, actions show otherwise, never reported such an instance were.” Yoda stared at him a long moment before his ears suddenly fell. “Believed you Qui-Gon did not?”

That got a full body flinch out of Obi-Wan and Mace gave a low curse.

Oh he would happily strangle that old gundark if he could. ‘How did such a capable knight come from such a broken bond?’ He wondered before he got up, moving to Obi-Wan, settling one hand on the mans shoulder and the other cupping the redhead’s chin, tilting the others head up to make sure he had the others eyes. “You don’t have to tell the entire council. But would you consider at least speaking with one or two of us? This… someone should have listened to you back then.” There was an unsaid ‘Qui-Gon should have listened’ in those words that made Obi-Wan swallow.

“A fellow order member it was?” Yoda questioned.

“No… no a dignitary we were protecting.” Obi-Wan shoulders slumped and he sighed. “…If I promise to talk to a member of the council about it, to know what to look for…can I go back to our quarters with my padawan now? I just…I’d like to have a rest.” He settled on.

Mace looked back at Yoda, who nodded.

“Yes Obi-Wan. Who would you prefer to talk to?”

Settling his eyes on the Kel Dor, Obi-Wan gave a meek, hopeful smile. “Master Koon?”

“Of course Obi-Wan.” He murmured gently. “I will come by tomorrow after breakfast while your padawan is in class, we can speak then.”

Obi-Wan bowed then gently pulled Anakin with him out.

Mace returned to his chair and collapsed into it, rubbing his scalp slowly. “…It seems we’ve been failing a lot of Initiates and padawans.” He offered dryly.

“If anyone failed Kenobi, it was Jinn.” Shaak Ti offered sternly in return. “If I had been on the council when they were starting out, I would have had them both under observation, that was not a healthy bond for all that the Force formed it naturally.”

There was some discomforted shifting at her words then a lot of sighs.

“Out of respect for Knight Obi-Wan, we should let this subject go for now and instead focus on what we should do for our Initiates and Padawans. I will speak to Obi-Wan tomorrow.” Plo murmured before sighing. “Lets instead focus on what we can change and the future of our Order. our younglings are after all our future.”

“And perhaps…” Depa leaned forward, looking around the room. “We should consider contacting Queen Amidala? She would be very interested in hearing about about the former representative of Naboo and she may have more information for us if we find any evidence to support Obi-Wan’s claims.”

Plo rubbed his chin lightly with his claws. “She’s in her last term as Queen is she not. She wouldn’t have much to loose on giving us information if so.” He mused.

“Then decided it has been, speak to Obi-Wan, Plo shall. Speak to Queen Amidala Depa shall.” Yoda looked around the room. “Focus on the creche, the Initiates and the padawans the rest of us shall and examine the systems we have used for so long.”

His ears dropped a bit. “Fear what we find I now do. A day ago, safe I thought it was, a working system with minor faults. Uncertain I now am… others suffered for them perhaps?” He looked his full eight hundred in that moment.

“…I guess we’ll find out.” Mace rumbled deeply.

anonymous asked:

I will seductively lie next to you on your couch and aggressively whisper figure skating terms into your ears

It’s a common proverb, to think before one speaks.

(Perhaps Yuuri’s issue is that he speaks, then thinks.)

“Please forget that I said that,” he begs Victor, burying his face in his hands in a desperate attempt to keep his coach from seeing his flushed cheeks. “That was… It made sense in my head, I didn’t mean it… Um, I didn’t mean it like you think that I meant it.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Victor promises. “I’ve been told that before, you know. Plenty of times.”

Yuuri peers at him between his fingers. “You have?”

“No,” he admits, then chuckles. “At least, not so directly.”

If Yuuri could shrink, could disappear, then he would. He considers making a beeline for the door, but that might only worsen the situation, so he stays where he is, hopes that Victor will drop the subject.

Victor puts a hand on his shoulder and the touch is so unexpected that Yuuri jumps, but doesn’t move away, meeting his eyes and searching desperately for any sign of mercy. He knows by now, though, that Victor seems to have a selective memory, and that he’ll never forget this. “I’m flattered, though. That you think my accent is so sexy.

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scully-loves-ruthie  asked:

Ok so miragelindsey wrote a post about Mulder and Scully slow dancing in the kitchen at 1 am to "Landslide" will you please write this fic, pretty please :)

Set in late season 8. Enjoy! 

It’s Scully’s absence that wakes Mulder up. He sits up in bed rubbing his tired eyes. There is only a rumpled blanket where Scully’s warm form should be. Mulder glances over at the alarm clock:  1 am. Who is the insomniac here? He wonders as he gets up. There are only two places she could be at this time of night and since the light in the bathroom is off, he wanders straight to the kitchen. The sight that greets him makes him grin from ear to ear; Scully is rummaging through the fridge, her back to him, and she is swaying back and forth gently as if to a music only she can hear. With every passing second, as impossible as it seems, he falls a bit more in love with her.  

“Mulder!” She startles, almost letting go of the plate with assorted snacks, when she sees him there in the doorway. A blush spreads on her face quickly coloring her cheeks. But he can’t stop grinning, doesn’t feel guilty in the least.

“Sorry,” he says half-heartedly, “I thought you said eating in the middle of the night was bad, Scully.”

“Yeah, but the baby is hungry and doesn’t yet understand it.” She pats her heavily pregnant stomach; not long and the baby will be here. No more endless hours at the office, no more rushing off to the next great goose chase. This’ll be the greatest, most scary adventure they have ever tackled and he can’t wait. “I wonder who he gets that from.” Scully tells him, offering him a piece of cheese that he declines.


“Or she. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Scully chews on one of these mini sausages that she claims not to like. Her downright ecstatic expression, however, belies that statement. Mulder watches her in amazement, unable to believe his luck. He almost missed this because he’d followed a light, pursued a path she could not follow because he thought it would lead him to the truth. What truth? The only truth he knows is this; Scully and the baby. If only he’d known, he thinks. If only. This is his second chance, a big one, and he is not going to mess it up.

“Why are you dancing?” He concentrates on the here and now. And here, in her kitchen, Scully is unmistakably dancing. Still swaying gently back and forth, his eyes follow her, mesmerized.  

“Come here.” She holds out her hand and he takes it, letting her pull him closer. For a moment he is dazzled by her closeness, grins, but she doesn’t have eyes for him. She puts her finger on her lips even though he is quiet, not saying a word. Maybe it’s her who can read minds, he marvels, chastening himself to silence his thoughts. He needs to listen. There, behind the wall, he hears it. A soft tune, bleeding through.

“Is that…” This time her finger lands on his lips, warm yet firm, effectively shutting him up. The music gets louder in his mind as he recognizes it, a funny trick of the brain, and he feels himself swept up in the melody, in the sentiment.

“Dance with me.” He whispers against Scully’s hair and she giggles like a young girl out on a date for the first time. It’s a rare sound, cherished and tucked away. She fits against him beautifully; the only description he can come up with this late. It should be awkward with her belly, but it isn’t. Their baby is safe between them, sharing this dance with them. It’s just as it should be.

“Who listens to Landslide at 1 am?” Mulder wonders out loud, murmuring the words.

“My neighbor. She… she lost her husband a few months back.” Mulder almost misses a step; a few months back. When he was dead, too. When Scully thought she’d be alone in this, with their baby, in this life. He holds her closer, reminding them both that he’s here now.

“He uhm, had cancer. It was rather quick but… sometimes he couldn’t sleep and she would play this song. She told me, after, that he used to love it. They met a Fleetwood Mac concert and he sang Landslide to her at their wedding, when their daughters were born and… it was the only song that calmed him down. I think she feels closer to him whenever she listens to it. I know she misses him. I sometimes listen… I used to listen.” Mulder takes in the words, every syllable of the song; can I handle the seasons of my life? His hand sneaks between them, comes to rest on her stomach. Their baby, this new life, is sleeping blissfully. Not yet aware of the pain and tribulations the outside world has to over. Mulder decides to ignore them, too, right now. His hand around Scully’s waist, he sways to the rhythm of the music, softly hums the melody, sings a few verses here and there when he remembers the words. Scully leans against him, lets herself be swept away by him and the music, too. There is tomorrow, another day, where they might talk about the time he was gone, when he was buried. Tonight, though, they just dance.

“Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’, cause I’ve built my life around you,” he sings softly right into her ear, “You’re my whole life, Scully. You and the baby. Without you, I wouldn’t be here.” He kisses the top of her head and holds her as tightly as possible, afraid she might slip away.


“You know it’s true, Scully. I’m not sure I ever thanked you properly. I’m not even sure how.”

“You being here is enough.”

“Is it, Scully? Am I-” For a second time this night, she quiets him. He kisses the finger she presses against his lips until she smiles, her whole face coming alive with joy, gratitude. Maybe she’s right; maybe this is enough. For now, while they dance to Landslide at 1 am in her kitchen, it has to be.  

forever (and a day)

sanada yukimura x mc (misaki kasagi)

a/n: this one is for @bakers97, prompt 3 from this list - “it’s always been you.” this fic is a little different – i don’t want to spoil it, so i guess you’ll all just have to read and see why~

@jemchew @pasunny @naerial @demon-princess-anastasia

There’s a man who always comes into their restaurant when he’s in Kyoto.

He has blue eyes and hair the color of river pebbles, and a low voice that almost always stutters when he first speaks with her. There is a near-constant blush on his face until he has eaten his first bite, and then he smiles, boyish and carefree.

He’s built almost as big as Inuchiyo, is the first thing she notes—because not many people are as big as Inuchiyo—but he’s gentler than her childhood friend, less prone to boisterous and raucous conversations. He’ll gladly talk to anyone in the restaurant, but he speaks with an air of almost childlike excitability.

The man never gives his name, but she also never asks. Most of the time he looks like he’s been doing something casually active—he wears either a hoodie or a t-shirt, and the tightest pants she’s ever seen him wear are workout sweats that are cinched at the ankles.

He comes around at times few and far between, and without warning.

But no matter how much time passes, she recognizes him.

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War Ficlet Series Part II (Part I) (Part III) (Part IV)

Draco was writing a proposal for the new Minister for Magic, the fourth one in three years, when the owl arrived. At first, he thought it was just one of many inquiries he’d received from Nott Sr. regarding his son’s place in the ranks, but when he saw his name scrawled across the top his heart stalled. He’d recognized the handwriting anywhere.


I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been so long since I’ve written you, and for that I’m sorry, but I’m sure you are very much aware of the dangers that come with our correspondence so I hope you don’t begrudge me for it.  I didn’t want to jeopardize your position and I couldn’t afford my location being exposed if the letters fell into the wrong hands. I made myself a promise that I wouldn’t contact you until this whole mess was over, but I have no other choice. I’ve run out of options and I need your help. I know it’s rather unfair of me to ask anything of you, after all, I turned down your offers in the past, but I am in a desperate situation. If this letter reaches you, and you can find it in your heart to forgive me, please meet me in the back room of the place that used to be Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes at 10 o’clock in the evening on the fourth of March. I can’t disclose any more information than this. The rest will have to wait until our meeting. I truly hope to see you there. 


He stared at the parchment and reread it until all the letters blurred together. There were no traces of enchantments, curses, or spells on the letter itself so he knew he could trust what it said.

It had just been so long since he’d heard from her. Sometimes he’d wonder if she was still alive, but then he’d remember that if she were dead The Dark Lord would most likely be holding a celebration revel in her honor. But this was the absolute and undeniable proof that she was alive. She was alive and she needed his help.


He showed up to their meeting place two days later, and twenty minutes early. The blonde had tried to go about his business like usual and he mostly succeeded, but he hadn’t been able to curb the nervous energy inside of him. He’d have thought his feelings for her would have waned, but obviously, that wasn’t the case. As soon as that letter dropped into his lap all the thoughts and feelings he’d ever had for the woman flooded back.

Despite their history, meeting with her still posed a risk, he knew that. It could possibly be a ploy to get him alone, allowing him to be ambushed. but he highly doubted that. He was more worried about being tailed on his end. He’d been extremely thorough in covering his tracks and making sure no one knew what he was doing tonight. He couldn’t afford to get caught fraternizing with the enemy, not when he finally had a foot in the Inner Circle.

When the sound of a back door alerted him to another presence, he turned around and stood perfectly still, wand at the ready just in case he’d fucked up and had been followed. There was a soft click and then the shuffling of feet on the floor. His heart raced in anticipation. This was it. He was going to see her for the first time in years.

When the witch finally rounded the corner, wand also raised and as cautious as a mouse, he had to stop himself from rushing forward and taking her into his arms. She looked so….small…and tired, so unlike the vibrant Hermione of the past. The woman in front of him wasn’t the shining book lover, the spirited fighter and spellcaster he’d come to know and love, this woman was war torn and defeated.

Her hair was shorter than he’d ever seen it, her curls tangling just below her ears, and her cheeks were a bit sunken in as if she was half starved. Which….she probably was. The very thought of her hiding somewhere cold and starving made his heart twist uncomfortably.

“Hermione?” He winced at how gravelly his voice sounded.

She gave him a tiny forced smile. “Hello, Draco.”

He pocketed his wand and raked his eyes back over her body, cataloging how thin she was. “I’d ask how you’ve been, but it seems that it would be incredibly pointless.”

“The same could be said about you.” She replied simply.

He knew she would have been keeping tabs on him. She was one of the very very few that knew where his true allegiance lied, so she would know most of the things he’d been doing. The sometimes despicable things he’d been doing in the best interest of this long con. It still made him feel dirty when he thought about it too long.

“So, what’s this about, Granger? Your note indicated that you seemed to be in some trouble.”

“It’s something like that, yes. I just….” She paused and bit her lip, something she always did when she was thinking about what to say. “This is extremely hard to ask. We…we are estranged,”  When he opened his mouth to protest she threw up her hand to stop him. “And that is my fault. You tried….you tried to help and I didn't….I ignored your worries and spit on our relationship and….I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t do that.” He said, frowning down at her. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

She gave him an incredulous look but didn’t respond to his statement. “This is a big request, Draco. One you may not be able to, or even want to, fulfill, but I’m desperate.” She closed her eyes tightly and breathed through her nose. “I’m so desperate.”

“What is it?” He hated how eager he sounded but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to help this woman. He had loved this woman and wanted to just reach out to her and tell her he would take care of everything. His fingers twitched uncertainly; he had not been within touching distance to her since that last day. “I will do whatever I can.”

She regarded him with an expression somewhere between hopeful and heedful. “Wait here.”

He did as she asked and watched her walk out of the room. A moment later she was back, but he was surprised to see that she wasn’t alone. She held the hand of a small child. He couldn’t see them clearly because of the, most likely Weasley made, knitted hood with bear ears concealing their head, but something strange settled in his gut.

“This is my daughter Rhea.” She told him quietly.

Eyes widened. “Your…daughter…” A spike of jealousy ran through him at the admittance, but he quickly schooled his features, not wanting to give himself away. Of course, she’d have moved on. It had been years.

The witch nodded. “She’s the reason why I’m here. I’m sure you know the state of things in the city, in the slums. It’s worse for those of us in the resistance and I can’t just wait around for something bad to happen to her….or me when I’m with her…” She patted the child’s shoulder. “So, I swallowed my pride and came to you. You’re the only one that can help her.”

Confused, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Me? How am I the only one that can help? What is it, exactly, that you want me to do? Smuggle her out of London? I can’t say it would be easy but it is possible.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I don’t want you to smuggle her out, at least not at this time. There’s no one outside of the city that could take her yet and I honestly don’t trust she’d be any safer out there than by my side.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion.“Then I really don’t know what we’re doing here.”

Again she bit her lip. “I was hoping you would take her. You’re the only one I could trust to do it. Just take her with you and protect her. Watch over her. Eventually, take her to France, make her your heir, or whatever it is you have to do to keep her safe.”

What?” The request was even stranger than he’d first assumed and it left him blinking with his mouth hanging open, all pretense of calm completely gone. “Have you gone barmy? I can’t…it would be one thing to sneak her out but..to do that?  I haven’t the foggiest clue what to do with children and don’t you think it will seem incredibly suspicious if I just show up with a child? Besides, why in Salazar’s name would I even want take your daughter into my home, risk everything, and pass her off as mine?”

Hermione sighed in that way of hers that always made him feel like he was being scolded, and pulled off the girl’s dark hat, causing a cascade of curly blonde hair to tumble out of it. “Because she is yours.”

His world stopped for a moment as he stared down at the little girl. He’d been so focused on Hermione that he hadn’t taken a second glance at the child. She looked to be around four years old which would definitely line up and when he met her eyes it was like he was staring at his mother. She had sharp features that were associated with his family too and the only thing that looked like the woman behind her was her curls, her nose, and her mouth, which was now turned downward in a frown.

The little girl, no Rhea, he chastised himself, did not make a noise as she regarded him suspiciously.  “She’s…” he swallowed, “mine?”

“Yes, Draco, she’s yours. And I realize how confused and angry you might be at me for hiding it from you, but we really don’t have the luxury of time to have a good row about it right now.”

The urgency in her voice reminded him that she needed his cooperation and help. He had no interest in the “why’s” before, but now? She needed him to protect her ch-…to protect their child and he needed to know why. “What happened, Hermione?” He asked, taking a tentative step forward. “Why come to me now?”

Her frail looking hands gripped the girl’s shoulder. “That's….people are being snatched off the street. People not in the resistance. Harry’s sources in the city have been concerned. Children have been disappearing too, at a rapid rate. We’re scared of what that means.”

Draco frowned. As far as he knew nothing like that had been sanctioned, at least not in an official sense. He knew there were plenty of things that happened under shady circumstances but he couldn’t keep track of them all. He should look into that.

“Mummy?” The soft, fairy-like voice nearly startled him as it filled the silence. She’d been quiet this whole time. “What’s wrong? Who is that?”

He watched, mesmerized, as Hermione dropped down in front of her daughter and ran her fingers through her curly hair. “Grown up stuff, baby. You remember mummy telling you that we were leaving Uncle Harry’s?”  The girl nodded. “And that we were going to meet your daddy?” Blue eyes shot up from her mother’s face to stare at him, mouth parted in awe. Hermione nodded. “Yes, Rhea. That’s your daddy.”

Hearing the words out loud was jarring and he felt something inside him crack. He was a father. Honestly, The whole world could have crumbled beneath him in that moment and Draco wouldn’t have noticed.

anonymous asked:

Hi hi! Can you do the main three having a talented singer as their partner but they didn't know until they walked in on them singing??

Ohh, I’ve never had a request like this before. Hidden talents are always fun to reveal, so this was a very good idea! Thank you for the request! :3

[Viktor Nikiforov]

  • Viktor comes home after an evening out with his ice skating friends to a quiet apartment, the air still except fro Makkachin running to greet him
  • There’s no sign of you, which he finds a bit odd; you usually stay up to wait for him to come home
  • He then hears the soft running of water from the bathroom, and he allows a smirk to pull at the corners of his lips
  • “heh heh I’m gonna scare (y/n) so good lmao then we’re gonna have sex in the shower and it’s gonna be lit as fuck”
  • As he nears the bathroom, something that sounds like soft singing invades his eardrums, and he gets a bit curious
  • Without making a sound, Viktor puts his ear to the bathroom door to listen more closely, and he hears the water stop running
  • Your voice becomes more clear without the sound of the water, and Viktor’s heart flutters in his chest
  • honestly he has to stop for a moment to come back to earth bc your voice has him up in the clouds aw
  • You’re standing in front of the mirror when Viktor barges right into the bathroom, causing you to scream and cover yourself with your towel
  • He hugs you from behind in front of the mirror, admiring how perfect you look being held in his arms
  • You’ve stopped singing out of embarrassment and are trying to hide your blush, pulling your towel tighter around your body
  • Viktor squeezes your waist in encouragement before leaning down and whispering in your ear
  • “Why did you stop? Keep going, (Y/N); you sound amazing.”
  • He leaves kisses along your neck and jaw and shoulder, nuzzling his nose into your hair
  • he’s such an affectionate lil puppy lmao
  • Reluctantly, you begin singing once more, allowing Viktor to sway your bodies back and forth slowly while he relishes in your voice
  • He murmurs encouragements into your ear as you sing, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you
  • Needless to say, you’re not going to be able to side your secret talent around him anymore

[Yuri Katsuki]

  • It’s date night for you and Yuri, and your plans are to meet up at a restaurant once he’s done with skating practice
  • Getting done with practice a few minutes early, Yuri figures he can head home and get ready with you, so you can go to the restaurant together
  • He comes home and finds the bathroom door closed and hears the hairdryer going, smiling at the thought of you getting all gussied up for your date
  • and honestly you could go to the restaurant in sweatpants and you’d still look incredible like you’re gorgeous without even trying
  • As approaches the bathroom to knock, but the hairdryer stops and he hears your voice, but you’re not talking to yourself; you’re singing beautifully
  • Yuri stops where he is and waits, not wanting to barge in and potentially stop your singing that he’s enjoying so much
  • He sits on the floor with his back to the closed bedroom door, just listening to your angelic voice and drowning in the warm and fuzzy feeling it gives him
  • and like he starts falling in love with you all over again ???? he feels so at ease and content at the sound of your voice
  • He’s deep in thought while being drowned in the sound of your beautiful voice, and he allowed himself to close his eyes and just focus on you and how perfect you sound
  • Yuri is startled when the door opens and he falls backwards onto the floor, the back of his skull smacking against the bathroom tile
  • He scrambles to his feet and notices you all dressed up and ready to go out, and your expression is startled and anxious
  • “Yuri?! Why are you home? I thought you were meeting me at the restaurant after practice! what the fuck I didn’t—“
  • “You have a beautiful voice, (Y/N).”
  • Your panic and embarrassment is set aside when you take a look at Yuri; his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are big and swimming with affection
  • he looks so in love with you holy shit what a cutie pie !!!!!! i love him
  • Overcome with emotion and love for you, Yuri attacks your mouth with kisses, starting to use his tongue as he pushes you towards the bedroom
  • You guys miss your reservation at the restaurant, but you have a way better date night at home wink wonk ;))))

[Yuri Plisetsky]

  • On a particularly good day of practice, Yakov allows Yuri to leave an hour or two early as a reward for working so hard throughout the day
  • He heads home without any complaint, eager to see you at the end of the long day
  • and he’s probably excited to see his cats, too lmao
  • When he approaches the door, he hears the unmistakable sound of music coming from inside; more specifically, the sound of singing
  • Curious, he puts his head against the door to listen, and it becomes clear to him that the beautiful sound of singing is your voice
  • Yuri opens the door as silently as he can, sneaking inside before closing the door without making a sound
  • He tiptoes further into the home towards the sound of the angelic singing; he figures he’s successful in sneaking in undetected, because you haven’t stopped singing yet
  • he feels his heart racing all of a sudden too ???? he can’t tell if he’s nervous to get caught, or if it’s the sound of your singing making his heart run rampant
  • Yuri makes it to the kitchen, standing in the entryway while he watches you cook dinner as you sing, moving your hips slightly to the rhythm of the song you’re signing
  • He just stands and stares at you, completely hypnotized by your fantastic singing voice and how confident you seem
  • You turn away from the counter with the bowl of noodles and face Yuri’s direction, meeting his staring eyes in the process
  • You freeze where you stand and stop singing, your eyes wide as you drop the bowl with a loud crash and a wet slap of the noodles hitting the floor
  • and you guys just stare at each other; your eyes saying ‘holy fuck you’re home early holy shit hi” and yuri’s eyes saying ‘hey what’s up babe you’re fantastic’
  • You apologize quickly and begin cleaning up your mess, and Yuri soon joins you in squatting on the floor in scooping up the now-dirty noodles; he decides to break the ice when he notices how embarrassed you look
  • “You’re an amazing singer, (Y/N). I didn’t know you could sing like that. I’d love to hear it again.”
  • You meet his eyes to find him blushing with a soft expression on his face, and you let out a laugh
  • You’re able to salvage dinner and enjoy the meal together, joking about any other hidden talents you’re hiding from each other

anonymous asked:

Tythan 7 minutes? This is my first request! Your sleepover hc was just too damn adorable 💜💚

Aw thanks :3 

Ethan was…nervous when they had decided to play 7 minutes in heaven. He agreed reluctantly because everybody else seemed really into the idea, and Tyler seemed super excited about it. Ah, Tyler. He so cute… Ethan’s thoughts drifted off. They put all their names into some random hat and the first to draw was Mark. Of course, Mark just happened to pick Amy. So Amy and Mark went and did whatever in the closet. Ethan’s hands began sweating, it was his turn next. 

Mark and Amy came out of the closet when the timer went off, giggling and holding hands like high schoolers or something. Mark’s hair also seemed a little disheveled. Ethan’s heart was beating as fast as humanly possible when hee reached into the hat and pulled a name. He looked at it, and read it over and over but for some reason, his brain just wasn’t working right.

“Well? Who’d you get?” Mark asked, with a big dopey grin on his face. His question woke Ethan from his trance.

“Kathryn” Ethan responded, looking up to meet their waiting eyes. Marks face fell a little, and Tyler looked…upset. He couldn’t imagine why. 

The two went into the closet and just talked. Ethan confided to Kathryn that he had the hugest crush on Tyler. She told him that he should go for it, you never know ‘til you try. A couple minutes later the timer went off and they walked out of the closet. Ethan whispered a quick “Thank you.” before they sat back down.

Now it was Tyler’s turn. He would either pull himself, Mark, or Ethan. The thought that it could be him had Ethan nervous all over again. Tyler dramatically reached into the hat and pulled out a tiny slip of paper. He read it over, and a small smile formed on his lips like there was an inside joke only he knew about. 

Tyler looked up and said, “I got Ethan.” then glanced over to the blue haired boy and winked. He just fucking winked at me. I can’t believe this shit, Ethan thought. He stood up, offering a hand to Ethan to help him up. He politely refused, not wanting Tyler to know how badly his palms were sweating. He followed the older man into the closet, then Tyler pulled the door shut, enveloping them in a thin sort of darkness. 

Ethan could barely make out Tyler’s face, straining to see it. Tyler just stared down at him. In a glossy sort of tone, Tyler bent down in whispered, “I am so happy I picked your name.” He didn’t move back when he was done either. He just hovered by Ethan’s ear, driving him absolutely insane.

“O-oh really? Why’s that?” Ethan stuttered out, his voice cracking at the end.

“Well for starters, I can’t do this to Mark.” He said, then leaned forward and began kissing right below his ear on his neck. Ethna involuntarily let out a little whimper. He could feel Tyler smile against his neck. “And I’ve wanted to do that for so damn long,” he continued as he pulled away.

Ethan was speechless. He wasn’t sure how long they had been in there, but it had already felt like an eternity, but honestly, an eternity wouldn’t have been long enough. He could’ve stayed there forever. Ethan stood up on his tip-toes, resting his hands on Tyler’s shoulders for balance, and gently put his lips against the others. Tyler’s mouth eagerly responded, happy to know that his feelings were reciprocated. 

The blue boy’s hand wandered up into Ty’s locks of curly hair and grabbed a fistful, pulling him closer, as close as he could. They kissed until they had to come up for air. Ethan rested his head on Tyler’s chest. He sighed, saying, “I like you a lot.” as he did. 

Tyler rested his head on top of the mess of blue, responding, “Do you? I couldn’t tell.” causing them both to laugh and soon after the timer went off and they came out of the closet. Together.


HAHHAHHHAHA you like what I did there at the end? yeah? me tooo.