his voice is a miracle

Post-Rescue Sanvers Cuddle

She’d been so focused on not drowning that she almost didn’t register that the water?

The water was cold.

Very cold.

So cold that when she reaches for Maggie’s hands, Maggie can barely distinguish them from ice.

She loses consciousness on the way to the DEO, and Maggie leans over to take a look at Kara’s hand. To make sure Kara didn’t hurt herself breaking that glass.

Because she might be Supergirl, and she might still be in that suit, but right now, staring frantically at her big sister in the back of the DEO van, only moving so the medics can surround her, can make sure she stays alive, can make sure her temperature comes down safely?

Supergirl looks an awful lot like Kara Danvers.

An awful lot like the girl who almost lost her big sister.

So she offers her free hand to Kara, and Kara accepts it with her own.

They say nothing, but they don’t have to. They ride back to the DEO holding hands.

Keeping each other solid. Keeping each other steady.

The medics report to J'onn that her temperature has returned to safe levels, and it’s then that Maggie finds her voice.

“But her hands still feel like ice.”

The medic glances at her sympathetically. “Her limbs aren’t in any danger, and her core temp’s getting to where we need it to be, you don’t have to worr – ”

If he’s going to object to what Maggie’s started to do, or question it in any way, J'onn and Kara both stop him with a silently raised hand. Because they know better.

Because Maggie is maneuvering into the tiny medical bed next to Alex, shimmying under the covers and diligently making sure Alex is completely covered. She pulls Alex close to her, gently, gently, carefully, carefully, so that their bodies are flush together.

So that she’s giving her all of her heat.

Because that’s all she has to offer right now.

And that’s all she ever wants to give Alex: all she has to offer.

Winn chooses that moment to rush into the medical bay, and his brow immediately furrows on seeing Maggie in the bed with Alex, and J'onn and Kara hush him, too, before he can say anything.

But Maggie reads his expression, and she grins.

“Don’t worry, Winn, I’m not naked under here. You’re not interrupting anything.”

J'onn covers his face and Kara snorts as she reddens, and Winn splutters and stammers and James, entering behind him, just laughs, because Alex is alive, alive, alive.

“She still unconscious?” Winn finally forms the words to ask, and James grins.

“That’s probably the only reason Maggie’s still wearing clothes,” he teases, because she’s alive, god, she’s alive, and J'onn groans and promptly leaves and Kara shoves her fingers in her ears and hums loudly.

“Is she… how was she? When you found her?” Winn asks, his voice almost reverent.

Like it’s a miracle. Like Alex is a miracle.

And god, she is.

“She’s gonna be okay,” Maggie whispers, and she pulls Alex even closer to her and kisses her forehead. “She’s gonna be okay.”

Gorditos Pt. One

“ Gordito’s has it all, and we want you to know that we’re becoming known for something more; we are on track to be the world’s first ZERO WASTE restaurant!”

             Working while going to school was never an ideal setup, but most of Brad’s friends were in the same boat as him: getting some help from their parents, maybe some financial aid, but still coming up short every month. He could probably stand to party a little less, and perhaps drink fewer beers. Lucky for him, Brad already had an in for the job at “Gorditos” – the assistant manager was his old frat brother Travis. Not only that, but Brad and his rugby team had eaten there more times than he could count – he probably had the entire menu memorized already.

             “These are your shirts. Make sure they stay clean.” Travis had definitely gotten to be a bit more of a hard ass since becoming assistant manager and graduating university. He was always the one egging on guys to do body shots and take beer bong hits, and now he was the guy who would get on your case for having a stain on your shirt. His actual ass was now anything but hard, too. Since the year or so of working at a greasy diner like Gorditos, he had swollen up like a berry, though admittedly Brad was a little bit softer than he had been Freshman year. That’s where Rugby came in for him.

Brad took a good look at his new shirts. They were the brightest red he had seen, almost like a clown nose, or a very ripe cherry. The titular “Gordito” was a cute Cactus, who had been lovingly embroidered onto every one of the shirts’ breast pockets. It might have been worse if the owners were not, in fact, from Guatemala, but it was still not very PC. Despite that, Brad was just thankful he might actually have a way to save up money before trying to move out on his own, sans roommate. As it was, living with someone who he wasn’t dating didn’t really appeal to him. Some space would feel so nice.

             The store was located in a perfect spot – sandwiched right between the campus and downtown, so it was busy most of the day. There was a near-constant drift of all sorts of people in and out – lots of the same families, or people who came and ordered the same thing every day at the same time. There was a sort of communal feeling that Brad had always appreciated, but the food had always been less than good for you, even if it WAS delicious after a night of drinking. It didn’t seem like Brad would have much trouble gaining sway there.

             The first day came, and Brad was as ready as he was ever going to be. He made sure that his rather long, wavy black hair was well tucked into his bun: Travis made it clear that his hair was fine, but would need to be put up at all times. He slipped himself into one of his new shirts, satisfied that it made it look as if he did not have just the tiniest beginnings of man breasts. He still looked like what he was, though ; a burger flipper. But dammit, he was ready to be a burger flipper with a paycheck.

             By the time he got in, things were already rather lively around the joint. No one seemed to even notice that he was new – one patron even asked him where the ice machine was. “Brad!”

Looking up, something the size of a king mattress was approaching. The man coming towards Brad looked like the Jolly Green Giant, but if he started eating cheesecakes every night and maybe weaned off the actual veggies. Massive, but friendly looking. He had the same shade of red in his shirt, only his looked like the world’s largest water balloon, filled to the brim. He extended a thick hand, which Brad gave a shake.

“I’m so glad to have you on board, son. We’ve got some exciting new ideas that we’re just about ready to share with everyone!” As it turned out, ‘everyone’ really wasn’t that many people. No wonder it was so easy for Trevor to get him a spot. Everyone looked pretty cool, and Brad even recognized a girl that he had Chemistry lab with. Once she seemed to notice him, he gave a wave, which made her seem a little flustered. Despite that, she gave a small wave back.

             The boss coughed. “I think this is good. Johnny’s not here, but he hates this crap.” ‘So do all of them’, Brad thought. Still, a special announcement on his first day of work was pretty exciting. Or as exciting as working at a burger joint could be. Soon everyone had been led into a sea of red shirts, all wriggling to get into the back room. Brad hadn’t been there before. In fact, the ‘door’ to the back room didn’t even look like a door. It was as thought someone craved a door shape out of the frozen metal of the freezer and built a conference room. Pushed up against the fastest wall was a massive tarp that covered what Brad could only assume was related to this big announcement. Once the chattering had died down, the boss started.

             “I’m thankful you all can be here for this – this is a historic moment at our location and for our future.” The silence wasn’t an uncomfortable one, exactly. But you could tell that the employees were hanging on their bosses every word. Brad already felt like part of the team, even if it was only out of mutual confusion.

             Boss spoke loud and steady. “Our location has been selected to be Gordito’s first ever Zero Waste Restaurant.”

The boss let the phrase hang in the air for a while before anyone spoke. A girl with curly hair and braces raised her hand.

“So…we aren’t going to throw stuff away?” She squeaked. She summed things up pretty well. That’s what it sounded like to Brad, too. Zero waste…it sounded like the kind of Eco-friendly Green stuff the school was always trying to implement. But how on earth was that possible?

             “This brings us to the big event.” The giant tarp behind him fell away to reveal…Brad wasn’t sure exactly what it was. It looked formidable, like something that could press a soda can into a tiny metal cube, but there was only several small chutes and a large, gaping opening on top. It was a shiny and impenetrable steel. It had, in huge emblazoned letters, “Z.W.M.”

             “The Zero Waste Machinery will be able to process anything into edible matter.” At first the sentence made grammatical sense, but Brad still wasn’t understanding. “It processes things into stuff you can eat? So are we going to sell it?” He thought. Restaurants these days were always trying to come up with some new gimmick to lure in customers. He had worked there long enough to know that nothing was going to change the customers minds unless it was very convincing indeed.

             Without thinking too much Brad raised his hand to ask. “Aah, Bradley! I knew you would be the one to step up.” Confused, Brad kept his hand in the air, thinking that maybe he would be asked his question now. Instead, two men ushered him up to the front of the pack rather forcefully, until he was at the front. Up close, the machine looked much more menacing…like something that clearly served a function, but did so at a high cost.

             “Our employee Brad will be our first Receptacle. We will let you know how things are going in a few weeks, but are very optimistic that this will cut the costs of our garbage and recycling services to zero!” Brad look out at his new coworkers, who all had the same expression Brad could feel forming on his face; confusion, and a little fear. Some of them clapped, but most of them stood frozen.

             “I’ll be…did you say…a receptacle?” The word sounded as foreign as a word from Micronesia right now. That was like a damn trash can, right?!

“I’m going to become…a trash can?” The boss laughed so much his belly bounced around like a gas molecule. “No no no, my boy. That’s the beauty of this here contraption.” He stroked one of the knobs with his mighty hand. “It produces food that might taste even BETTER than a normal burger! By rearranging the molecules, it could be possible to make any and all refuse convertible to fuel…or in this case, food.” The boss was looking at Brad with something strange in his eyes. It wasn’t malicious, at least not obviously so. But it was mysterious, if nothing else. Maybe this job was too much for him.

             “Thank you again for your attention – and Brad, if you would.” He motioned for Brad to follow him back into his office. Still fairly numb from the whole experience and accidental admission of volunteer, he followed dumbly. He wasn’t sure why there was more, or why he hadn’t bothered to just explain it all back in the room with everyone. Once they made it to his office, he noticed how considerable the dent marks were where his boss’ considerable ass cheeks nestled in once he had sat down.

             “There’s something important we need you to know about the ZWM, Brad. OR rather, a couple things.” Brad sat up a little mores traight in his chair. He had been expecting something banal and technical. Now things sounded serious.

             “We think this thing has the power to completely revolutionize the way we run restaurants, even homes eventually! The fact it was made at all is already a miracle…but…” His voice trailed down uncharacteristically. “…I’m afraid we’ve not had any chances to run actual tests.”

             Brad should have stopped right then, and realized this was something bigger than he had thought. Much bigger. Still, in his innocence, he was curious.

“So you don’t know how well it works?” The boss frowned. “No, not quite. We’re near positive the results will cause satiety and energy, but shouldn’t inhibit sleep or cause any sort of weight gain outside of eating normal burgers.” The boss now wore his usual smile again. “And there’s somethin’ big in it for ya. You agree to be the first receptacle, and your tuition is covered.”

That was a big load to suddenly drop! Brad felt his heart start beating madly, jumping up into his throat. The state university tuition was on the cheaper side of things,but that by no means made it cheap. Already Brad was bogged down with a few thousand in debt…

The boss stood up straight, looking accomplished. “And from the look of ya, you look like you can stand to have a burger or two. I hope you don’t feel too nervous about all this, it’s mostly about getting data so that we can get even more funding. You’re really doing something amazing.”

             Brad was smiling now. It wasn’t as crazy as it sounded. It was a chance to try something new, and as much as he sometimes hated to admit it, he did still love the food at Gorditos. If this lead to something good for the company or the future of fast food, why not give it a shot?

It was that curiosity that ended up getting Brad into what many would call big trouble.

Hangover (Drabble)

Jesse McCree woke up in a haze with no recollection of anything beyond yesterday afternoon. His head throbs painfully, and his limbs feel like they’ve been rung out and hung to dry like Sunday laundry. Actually, his whole body felt very much like that. Shit, what just happened last night?

He stretched, stopping with a hitched breath when his legs hit something that shifts minutely beside him. His heart dropped to his stomach and it took all the willpower in his weary body to not bolt out of the bed and run out of habit. Beside him was you, still asleep but seemingly on the cusp of waking. Oh no.

He wracked his brain, desperate to remember before you got up despite the fuzziness and pain. What the hell happened last night? He was drinking, that much was obvious. Who was he drinking with? Hana was there, definitely. Hanzo. And a few others who held their liquor better than expected. They were all drinking, but were you there? Why were you here? His head felt like it was about to crack.


“Heya, darlin’.” His tongue was heavy, and his voice came out like sandpaper in this throat. It was a miracle to him that his voice didn’t shake or betray any of the anxiety that was building up in his bare chest. It wouldn’t be the first time waking up in someone else’s bed after a dubious night of drunkness, but with you…that’s another story entirely. He respected you as a comrade. A friend. He had to know, otherwise he’d never be able to look you in the face again. If he even had a face once word gets out to the other members of Overwatch.

“I didn’t…do anythin’ untoward t’ya last nigh’, did I?” He wanted to throw up.

You blinked at him blearily, propped up on an elbow. Realization crept into your features, and you shook your head with a breathy laugh. It eased some tension that coiled in his chest. He didn’t mind hearing such a laugh so early, actually. It was…pleasant and washed away his fatigue like a gentle drizzle. “No, nothing happened. You just wanted a hug and…went to sleep like that.”

Jesse had a feeling there was more that you weren’t telling him, but judging by the fact that you’re still clothed and there were no visible marking on any skin that he could see, he could probably say he was safe from an awkward conversation. You yawned, dropped your face back into the pillow, nuzzling it. Cute, like a cat. Now that the danger has passed, Jesse noted with some amusement that you seemed unusually at ease with the presence of a half-naked cowboy in your bed. (Probably because you still had all your memories intact.) You looked ready to fall back asleep, and McCree doesn’t want to overstay his welcome.

“Well, thanks for the company, darlin’, but I shou’ get goin’…”

He’s stopped by a warm hand on his thigh.

“Just stay. You make a good heater.” You don’t even open your eyes to address him. He considered his options and decided fuck it, if you were okay with him being here and having him as a heater, then he’s okay with it, too. He pulled the blankets over himself and you. You snuggled closer, grumbling slightly, and he had to keep himself from commenting on how  adorable you were and wrapping his arms around you tight. He wasn’t sure where the boundaries were in the situation, after all. He chose to just drape an arm loosely over your waist, relishing in the warm and steady presence you provided. If he was allowed to, he could get used to this. 

Sleep was always a good cure for hangovers.

vixensheart  asked:

I request "So are you guys dating, or?" for BbRae! XD

YOU GOT IT. I’m kind of hyped about YJ S3, and I’m looking forward to some more BB character development, so, I’ve had this idea in my head for a while! A potential ‘what if’ situation. :) I hope it’s okay! For obvious reasons, he’s aged up here. 

“You came,” she breathed, her expression more of relief than anything else.

It was the first time in a long time that he’d seen her act not so indifferent; she was genuine in her pleasure with seeing him again. It gave him hope, made him feel a glimmer of that exhilirating anticipation, that he was something more to her. Especially when she looked at him like that

Beast Boy morphed back into his human shape and dusted off his uniform. Sparing her a small smile, and spending a few moments to appreciate her uncanny beauty, he finally found his voice. “And you’re not actually evil.”

Smooth. Real smooth.

It was a miracle neither Bart or Jaime had been there to hear that one. 

Suddenly, her eyes were like purple steel. She crossed the room towards him, closing the distance in a few strides, and her hands came up to clutch at his shoulders. He tried to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest at her unexpected nearness. “Gar, you can’t be here. You have to go. Now.” 

The seriousness in her tone had returned, but the way her brows furrowed, and her bottom lip jutted out, told him that she was just worried about his well-being. 

He shook his head in protest. “I can’t just leave you here, Rae. Not when I know the truth. Come on, we have to go tell the others what’s really going on.” He grabbed hold of her hand firmly, not waiting for her consent, and tugged her after him.

Raven broke free of his grasp immediately after giving him quite a bit of resistance. “No! I can’t!” She cried out.

He stilled, watching her back away reluctantly, like it was the last thing she wanted to do. “Beast Boy, I can’t go with you.” Her voice softened, and she averted her gaze to the ground.

“Why not?” Even to his own ears, he sounded desperate.

[the rest is under the cut!]

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Stray Dog 3/3

As fugitives from Soul Society, they don’t exactly have the chance to get out much. Which might be nice if Shinji was living with a harem of beautiful, busty, voracious women, but instead he’s stuck with seven of the weirdest, most aggravating morons this side of a mental ward.

Just one more thing to blame Aizen for, in the end.

Sometimes, when he cannot physically withstand another sandal to the head or another dirty manga abandoned on the couch or another bout of Rose humming or Kensei and Mashiro squabbling or anything without unleashing his inner Hollow on the lot of them, Shinji will have just enough of an attack of stupid not to give a shit anymore. Aizen or Soul Society or whatever—by that point he’ll freaking welcome them with open arms. So he’ll leave. Just up and walk out, and the first time he did it he freaked out the rest enough that they were on their best behavior for months afterwards, never mind that he’d never made it further than the nearest bar to get plastered.

Unfortunately, that effect seems to have degraded with time. Now he’s lucky if they even give him a few hours of peace when he gets back. But, well, sometimes an hour’s better than nothing.

Shinji always makes sure it’s fairly dramatic, too, his departure. Lots of screaming “good riddance!” and slamming doors with inhuman strength and such. This one’s no different, and he stalks away from their base with his long coat flaring out behind him, the memory of seven startled faces barely enough to begin wearing away at his murderous edges.

He ends up in a lounge a few hours later, like he always does once his temper cools enough that he can start to feel sorry for himself. It’s a tiny little hole in the wall, just enough upscale edge to make it a certain shade of gloomy that appeals to Shinji’s sense of aesthetics, and while it’s not the cheapest place in Karakura it’s definitely what he needs.

This time, when he walks in still mildly seething and halfway wishing for a Menos or something to brutally slaughter—which is an improvement to wanting to slaughter his fellow Vizards—the bar is practically empty, the tables scattered around the floor unfilled. There’s a woman seated at the far end of the bar, giving off such clear fuck-off vibes that Shinji doesn’t even bother giving her more than half a glance, but otherwise there are no customers.

There’s a new bartender, too, and Shinji wonders with faint amusement if that’s got something to do with the deadness.

Or maybe it’s the fact that it’s barely four o’clock on a Monday.

Still, the guy’s cute, though with the tattoos and scars he looks a little out of place in his neat bartender’s uniform—more like he should be in some back-alley joint with bouncers and regular fights and a baseball bat behind the counter, rather than a lounge like this. Spiky dark hair and tanned skin and lots of sleek muscles, and yeah, Shinji is more than appreciative of the eye candy, his bad mood quickly falling away in the face of it. Because chicks are great, and boobs will never get old, but there’s something to be said for pinning another guy down and making him scream.

“Good afternoon,” the guy says, putting down the glass he’s polishing and giving Shinji a faint smile. There are slight lines around his storm-grey eyes, almost wariness, but maybe Shinji’s reading too much into things. “What’s your poison?”

For half a second, Shinji debates ordering a Blow Job or a Screaming Orgasm just to see the man’s reaction, but regretfully decides he’s not in quite that sort of mood and instead offers, “You any good at a Lemon Drop Martini?”

That earns him a flash of teeth as the man grins and turns away. “You wearing socks? ‘Cause I guarantee I can knock ‘em off.”

I bet you can, Shinji thinks admiringly, studying the very, very nice curve of the man’s ass as he turns away. But it’s a bit too early to be scaring the guy away, so he goes with, “I’ll hold you to that. But you look new. Something happen to Hayato?”

The strong shoulders, barely hidden by the white shirt and vest, lift in a quick shrug as the man tilts the tumbler and deftly pours it into a glass, garnishing it with a twist of lemon before he slides it over to Shinji. “He got married and decided to get a real job. I’m Shuuhei.”

Shinji takes a sip, eyes closed to savor it. Sweet, sour, bite. Just the way he likes it. But that opening’s too good not to take, and he gives the man—Shuuhei—a quick grin. “An’ I’m Shinji. So this isn’t your real job, then? Got something on the side?”

A sideways glance from beneath dark lashes almost catches him by surprise, since the guy’s barely looked at him twice, but it’s strangely appealing when coupled with those sharp-stark scars and the blue stripe of that tattoo. “Yeah,” Shuuhei says dryly. “I try and save the world whenever I’m not mixing drinks for stuck-up assholes.”

Shinji barks out his first genuine laugh in what feels like a god-damned age, grinning widely as he takes a generous sip of martini. “Oh? I can see the spandex thing working for you, definitely, but I’ll admit you didn’t strike me as the type.”

Shuuhei grins back, a little wry but mostly amused. “Well,” he says easily, “not every superhero fights out in the open. I like to think I’m more of a back-alley-deals kind of guy. Stop the megalomaniac from the shadows and all that.”

Something twists in Shinji’s chest, bitter and bracing, and he tosses back the rest of his drink to cover his grimace. “Takes all types,” he agrees, and tries not to think how very much his situation fits that simple summary.

“Another?” Shuuhei asks, already snagging his glass.

By now, Shinji’s more than ready to throw caution to the wind. The guy seems open enough not to take a swing at him, at least. Summoning up his best flirtatious grin, he drops his elbows on the smooth wood of the bar and leans forward, like it’s a secret. “And if I asked for a Screaming Orgasm?” he questions, voice just above a purr.

Shuuhei meets his eyes for three long heartbeats, expression unreadable, and then one corner of his mouth curls up in amusement. “I’d say my shift’s over at six,” he answers, and that flare of heat in his eyes is somewhere between challenge and anticipation. An answering heat curls in Shinji’s stomach, and he wants.

Then Shuuhei gives him a full-on smile, bright and a little wicked, and lowers his voice to add, “Beyond that, I really hope you like to top. I think I could use a screaming orgasm of my own after today.”

Shinji’s mouth goes dry, a vision of acres of golden skin spread out beneath him flashing before his eyes, and he has to think of Hiyori’s screeching to keep from embarrassing himself.

“Yeah,” he says, and it’s a fucking miracle that his voice comes out steady. “I think we’ll be able to work something out.”

Shinji wakes up alone in the hotel room with bright sunlight falling over him, warm and well-rested and totally at peace with every damn thing in the universe. It’s been years since he last got laid, and every single bit of tension that’s been coiling through his body is gone, eased away by a really fucking awesome night.

And, yeah, it might be nicer if Shuuhei was still here, ready for a final round of morning sex, but Shinji can’t bring himself to mind the other man’s absence too much. It was a one-night thing, and both of them knew that going in. Shinji’s in no place to be making commitments, not to anything aside from tearing Aizen down and grinding him into the mud. And, regardless of looks that should be able to get him laid without effort, Shinji got the impression that Shuuhei was just as in need of a release of tension as Shinji himself.

He rolls over in the bed, enjoying the stretch and pull of muscles that haven’t been put to good use in far too long, and grins to himself. Yeah. No penny-dreadful romance novel plots here, but it was still one fucking awesome night, excuse the pun, and he’s content with that.

There’s a note on the nightstand beside him, a scrap of hotel stationary scrawled in a ridiculously neat, precise hand.

Sorry, had to go to my other job. I’ll buy you a drink next time you come in to make up for the lack of morning-after sex.


Great minds think alike, apparently. Shinji decides that a drink with a hot guy sounds very nice indeed, already planning a time to sneak out of the base to take Shuuhei up on it as he hauls himself into the shower. A quick scrub, a cup of fancy coffee from the upscale place down the street, and he saunters deeper into Karakura, deciding to let the other Vizards stew for a bit longer. The bastards can take it, after all, and Shinji’s going to milk this not-an-actual-clusterfuck of a day for all it’s worth before he has to go back to the loony bin.

Well, that particular loony bin, he acknowledges, seeing as his feet are headed towards Urahara’s store. But Urahara’s usually up for a spar at the very least, and Shinji could use some downtime. With the others, sparring is training for taking on Aizen, and Shinji doesn’t want to think about that bastard for at least another few hours.

With a peaceful sigh, he rounds the corner and strides into the courtyard in front of the store, waving a lazy greeting to the little girl sweeping. “Yo, Ururu-chan.”

“Hirako-san,” the girl mumbles, blushing. “Boss is inside, if you’re looking for him.”

Shinji nods and heads up the steps without hesitating, though he keeps his easy swagger. No point in rushing, after all. “Kisuke?” he calls, poking his head around shelves and stacks.

“Shinji,” the scientist responds cheerfully from about three and a half inches behind him, making him all but jump out of his skin. That earns him a fan-flutter and a very wide, badly hidden smirk. “Oh my. Jumpy, are we?”

Shinji scowls at him, but can’t force himself to hold it for long. In the end, he settles for rolling his eyes and reaching out, smacking that stupid bucket-hat down a little further over the younger man’s eyes. “Whatever, ya sneaky freak,” he huffs. “Any news?”

Agreeably, Kisuke readjusts his beloved hat and turns, leading the way towards the dining room. “Ah, not much, I’m afraid. Things have been rather quiet of late. There’ll be a new shinigami stationed here soon, but she’s unseated and nothing to worry about.”

About to respond, Shinji pauses. There's…reiatsu in the air, a reiatsu he’s not familiar with, and while he hardly thinks Kisuke is going to betray them after so much time—

“Urahara-san, where do you want these? Back in the storeroom?”

That voice is entirely familiar and just as wholly unexpected, making Shinji falter even as a head of spiky black hair appears around the corner, half-concealed by a precarious stack of boxes. The arms he can see are strong and corded, the skin honey-colored and smooth where it isn’t lightly scarred, and intimately familiar.

Shuuhei-kun?” Shinji blurts in absolute shock, because this is the man he fucked into a mattress last night, only with the addition of enough reiatsu to leave him at the lower end of captain-class and a katana slung diagonally across his back.

The man pauses, then carefully sets the boxes down and stands up, grey eyes meeting Shinji’s with muted surprise.

“…Oh,” Shuuhei says after a moment. “Shinji-san.”

“How interesting,” Kisuke coos, flitting around the two of them with a bright, knowing smile. “You’re acquainted with my new part-timer, Shinji?”

Biblically, Shinji wants to say, but he’s tactful enough to settle on a simple nod. No need to give Kisuke any more ammunition than he can dig up on his own, after all.

“Urahara-san,” Shuuhei says after a long moment of fairly awkward silence. He gives the shopkeeper a quick, meaningful glance and Kisuke’s eyes narrow beneath the shadow of his hat.

“Do you think that’s really such a good idea, Hisagi-kun?” he asks, and there’s very little that annoys Shinji more than being left out of the loop. He fixes both of them with a hard stare, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an expectant eyebrow.

Shuuhei, of course, meets his stare dead-on—even knowing him less than twenty-four hours, Shinji can tell he’s not the type to be easily cowed by anything. But the younger man inclines his head regardless, as though Shinji’s just won some sort of battle, and steps back. “I’m sure,” he tells the shopkeeper. “Sorry, Urahara-san. We’ll be using your training ground, if that’s all right.”

“Certainly, certainly. Take all the time you need, Hisagi-kun.” Sharp grey eyes stay on them as Shuuhei leads the way down the hall, and Shinji spares Kisuke one last glance—narrow, warning, because Shuuhei is obviously a shinigami or something very much like it, is obviously well-acquainted with the shopkeeper beyond just working for him, and Shinji’s going to be having words with Kisuke about keeping important things from him—before following him.

As soon as Shinji’s feet hit dirt, he turns to look at Shuuhei, and is almost startled to see the younger man dip into a deep bow, the kind of gesture that no one’s directed at Shinji since the whole disaster with Aizen. It’s…strange, seeing it again.

“Hisagi Shuuhei, former lieutenant of the Ninth Division, under Tousen Kaname,” Shuuhei says formally, straightening up and meeting Shinji’s eyes again, firm but faintly apologetic. “I’m sorry for misleading you, Captain Hirako.”

“…Ninth,” Shinji says after a beat, his gaze settling on the pair of numbers inked into Shuuhei’s skin. He’s seen them before, every time Kensei has taken his shirt off, but he’d dismissed it as coincidence. A mistake, obviously. “I should have realized.”

The brunet blinks, one hand rising to touch his cheek, and then he smiles a touch wryly. “Oh, right. Not my subtlest decision, I guess, but for the record I wasn’t drunk and I’ve yet to regret it. Captain Muguruma saved my life the same day he…disappeared. But he inspired me to join the Gotei 13 about fifty years ago, where I heard about what had happened. It was just…something I couldn’t let go of, especially since I started having suspicions about Tousen, Ichimaru, and Aizen. So I left, and eventually found Urahara. He filled me in.”

Shinji’s not a fool. He can tell there’s far more to the story than those five sentences let on. It’s been almost a hundred years since their exile, after all, and fifty years are a long time to spend alone and hunting. Shinji knows that better than most. And to leave the Gotei 13 on a hunch? To abandon everything so simply for the sake of a man Shuuhei only met once? That’s…

Shinji can’t tell if it’s absolutely flat-out moronic or the noblest damn thing he’s ever heard. Maybe a bit of both, honestly.

“I take it you’re in on Kisuke’s plans?” he asks with a faint sigh. Yet another life upended that he’s more than happy to blame on Aizen.

Shuuhei nods, grey eyes going sharp and hard, like honed steel. “I am. Shiba Kaien knows my location and what’s going on, and he’s been helping me sneak in and out of Soul Society when necessary. Urahara-san is to going to use that as a backup plan, and I’ve agreed.”

“Knowing Aizen, we’ll need a backup plan for that, too,” Shinji huffs. He eyes the former lieutenant, the easy way he carries himself, and remembers the sword callouses on his hands. For a moment he wavers, but then, with a faint sigh, he gives in to his curiosity. “Feel up to a spar? That’s what I was coming here for, but after a hundred years I’m tired of kickin’ Kisuke’s ass all the time. Want a turn?”

Shuuhei smiles. It’s definitely not a nice expression.

The sword comes out.

“Let’s see if I can’t kick yours first.”

Shinji grins right back, pops a soul pill, and steps out of his body as it falls away. “Now we’re talkin’, kid. How about you put your money where your mouth is?”

Shuuhei flips his zanpakuto around, catches it deftly, and growls, “Hado 58: Tenran.”

Sakanade comes to Shinji’s hand like an old friend, and he laughs even as the hurricane comes right for him. This will be fun.

When he wanders back to base some time in the early evening, it’s deathly silent within. Shinji steps through the barrier, brows rising when he sees all seven Vizards sprawled out in the main room. 

Almost instantly, Hiyori bolts to her feet, screeching, “You stupid baldy, where the hell have you been?!”

“Worried, Hiyori-chan?” Shinji asks blithely, pretending not to see the way seven pairs of eyes are studying him for any sign of injury as he hangs his coat up. “Sorry, got distracted over at Kisuke’s or I woulda been back a couple hours ago. Nothing happened.”

That doesn’t quite get a sigh of relief, but Lisa immediately gets up from the couch and wanders away, and Love isn’t far behind. Rose takes one more look at Shinji and heads for the kitchen, presumably to start dinner, and tows Hiyori—screeching and snarling, of course—along with him.

About to retreat to his room, Shinji pauses. Kensei is still on the couch, magazine propped open on one bent knee, and Shinji is…curious.

“Oi, Kensei,” he says, and the silver-haired man looks up, pierced brow rising. Shinji thinks about Shuuhei with his tattoos and has to smother a grin. They’re more alike than one would think, apparently.

“Yeah?” Kensei asks disinterestedly, attention still mostly on the magazine.

“You remember what happened the day before you disappeared? Back then?”

That gets him Kensei’s full attention instantly. After all, it’s an unspoken rule that they don’t talk about the past, especially not the past that close to their unwilling transformation. But apparently there’s still enough relief hanging around at Shinji not having abandoned their sorry asses to get him an answer, because Kensei snorts.

“Of course,” he scoffs. “Last time anything was even vaguely normal, wasn’t it? We had a patrol, me an’ Mashiro and some of the Ninth’s upper seats, looking into those disappearances. There was…” He pauses, eyes going faintly distant, and one side of his mouth quirks up. “A Hollow, outside of a little shit-hole town. Big and ugly. And a kid, this little brat who couldn’t stop crying. Big eyes, hair like a black porcupine got stuck to his head. I told him to quit crying and be happy he was still alive. Wonder if it worked.” Kensei pauses again, looking away, and then shakes his head. “Kid’s probably not even alive anymore, damn it,” he mutters, and there’s a regretful sort of anger in his voice—something Shinji’s more than familiar with.

Shinji wants to correct Kensei, tell him that he’s wrong and that crying kid is actually schlepping boxes for Kisuke right this minute, as powerful as a captain and able to give Shinji a workout in a spar. But Shuuhei already asked him to keep his presence a secret, so he holds his tongue. “Ah,” he says instead, and heads for his room, lifting a hand in a halfhearted wave. “Thanks, Kensei.”

Kensei says something, asks a question, but Shinji is out of hearing before he even gets halfway through, and closes his door firmly. With a tired sigh, he flops onto his bed, stretching out on his back and pressing his palms over his eyes.

One more thing Aizen ruined, he thinks, feeling that familiar, seething fury rise in his chest. Kensei coulda seen the kid grow up to be something great, if we’d stayed. Shuuhei coulda grown up with his hero pushing him to be even stronger. Hell, kid’s strong anyway. Maybe he woulda been a captain by now. Who knows what woulda happened if Aizen’d never crawled out from under his rock.

Who knows.

anonymous asked:

Johnlock & 15, pretty please?

15) things you said with too many miles between us

Sherlock knows something is wrong as soon as he picks up the phone, and hears John’s breathing. It’s just a little too controlled.

“John?” Sherlock’s fingers tense around his mobile. “Are you alright?”

A forced laugh. “Good evening to you, too.”

It’s not an answer. Sherlock knows this. Sherlock also knows John knows this.

“Is it Harry?” he guesses.

John sighs. “…Hm. Yes and no. I- Harry’s doing… doing really well, actually, it’s just-” He sighs again. “Being back here again.”

John trails off for so long that Sherlock momentarily fears their connection has been lost. 

Then, a miracle: John coughs, and his voice sparks back into life again. 

“Just memories,” he says. Sherlock can picture the shrug that is paired so often with his words and, oh God, how he misses him. 

“I understand,” Sherlock replies. He closes his eyes, and tries to picture John in the room with him. “Let’s… stay on the line? Until you sleep? You don’t need to talk.”

John laughs. “Jesus, I miss you,” he says. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can’t wait to be home.”

Sherlock silently thrills at that, that 221B is now home, and not the home town John is currently in.

They chat for hours, just the tiny, mundane things from their days. It makes Sherlock smile to hear it. He only stops when John’s voice fades away into sleep. He hangs up with the thought: Come home, soon. Please.

Doing johnlock (& now hoopkins too <3) prompts from this lovely list even though I’ve got loads of other prompts to fill lmao sorry but these are so lovely for more inspiration <3

Numbers filled (johnlock): 6; 31; 12; 11; 60; 8; 51; 34; 54; 60x2; 3; 14; 42; 60x3; 22; 10; 16; 20; 2; 25; 15

Numbers filled (hoopkins): 14; 25; 41; 9; 8; 12; 51; 29

anonymous asked:

"I'm not that flexible!"

“Fuck, Aaron, stop - stop!” 

Aaron dropped Robert’s legs instantly, pulling out of Robert. Worry was written all over his face as he sat back on his heels, chest heaving rom exertion. “What, whats wrong?”

Robert’s face flushed bright red as he realised he’d have to admit exactly why he was yelling at Aaron to stop mid thrust. His leg cramped up again as he tried to sit up, and he winced.

“Did I hurt you?” 

Robert shook his head, rubbing at the muscle of his upper thigh. “It’s just a cramp,” he mumbled, keeping his voice low enough that it was going to be a miracle if Aaron actually heard his admission.

Aaron raised an eyebrow, his dark hair standing on end, Robert’s hands having been magnetised to it a few seconds previously. “You what? he asked, looking slightly less concerned now he realised that Robert wasn’t actually having some kind of heart attack.

“It’s a cramp.” Robert said, slightly louder this time. He’d expected at least a second or two of sympathy, but Aaron burst into hysterical laughter, clutching at his sides as he snorted.

“You’ve got a cramp?” Aaron managed to say through his laughter, finding the whole situation wildly funny.

Robert crossed his arms against his chest, a grumpy look on his face. “It’s not funny,” he grumbled, not at all seeing the bright side that Aaron was clearly revelling in, his laughter filling their tiny room at the pub.

Aaron snorted, shaking his head. “It’s hilarious! God, Robert, you’re such an old man.”

Robert huffed, wincing slightly as the cramp in his leg worsened. “I’m not old! Everyone get’s cramps, you know.” 

Aaron laughed again, reaching out for Robert’s leg. “Aw, you poor baby, you’ve got a cramp,” he teased, fingers digging into the stiff muscle of Robert’s upper thigh.

“Yeah, well, maybe next time don’t try and shove my legs over my bloody head. I’m not that flexible!”

send me a prompt and i’ll write you a drabble



This was the other outline I had for my original secret santa prompt and even though I went with my other idea I just couldn’t let it go- so credit for this existing goes to @pozolegirl whose prompt this is also based on ^_~ 

Anyways enjoy this last little bit of holiday cheer. ^_^ 


December 1st 9:24 p.m.

“Do you really think these terrible lines of yours will ever work Chaton?”

Chat grinned as Ladybug once again rolled her eyes at his flirtation.

“Eventually,” he said lightly, leaning in so that their noses were almost touching.  

“How? They are terrible! Why would anyone think that combining puns and pick up lines is attractive?” She put a finger square in the middle of his chest and pushed him, flicking his bell once he was back to his original position.

“Because it’s funny. And everyone knows women love a guy with a sense of humor.”

“Aww poor Chaton. Looks like you will die alone.”


“I’m just teasing minou. There must be some poor soul out there that will put up with you.”

“Are you offering?” he asked, already bracing for yet another rejection.

“Ha. Hardly.”

And there it was.

For all their flirting- and Chat would argue to his dying breath that for all her denials she was definitely flirting back- he had never managed to get past the suggestive bantering stage of his courtship. After a year and a half of attempts it was beginning to get a little disheartening.

“Come on my lady, give me a chance? One kiss. We can call it a Christmas Miracle.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as desperately pathetic to her as it did to him.

“Ok, you want a Christmas Miracle?” she asked, giving him a serious once over, “If you can come up with one of your horrible puns that actually makes me laugh between now and Christmas eve, I will kiss you.”

“Are you serious?” he gasped.


“That’s it? Just make you laugh?” he ask, waiting for some sort of impossible catch.

“With a pun.”

Ah. There it was.

“How many am I allowed to make?” he asked cautiously, already forming a plan in his mind. It was difficult certainly, but not impossible.

“As many as I can stomach I suppose,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders and giving him playful smile.

“You must really want to kiss me after all my lady,” he teased, grasping her hand in his and brining it flirtatiously to his lips.  

“No I just know that your jokes aren’t that funny. Perhaps this will teach you that as well and I can finally be free of them. It will be my Christmas present to myself.”

“We shall see, My Lady.”

Keep reading

@donapirata didn’t ask for this but here we are anyways bc who doesnt need more marriage verse angst lbr

   ‘ ‘ Quierdo, come back to sleep. ’  ’

   Mrs. Norrington’s sleepy voice crept across the room, causing the Commodore to pause in dressing himself momentarily. His head turned to her general position to whisper an answer back to her in their moonlight bedchamber.

   ‘ ‘ I have an early start with the tide. ’ ’ 

   ‘ ‘ It’s still dark outside. ’ ’

   He could hear the pout in her words, imagine her lips, pursed together in feigned annoyance that he dare leave their bed before she’d had her fill of him. He was away so often now, it seemed: always another job, always another  pirate, another threat, another voyage away from the woman who held his  heart. He would have loved nothing better than to spend another day in her company– even a few scant hours could be stretched into a blissful eternity when she had her eyes on him and love in her heart.

   His duty this morning was not to his wife, but rather to a goal that had plagued him for too much of his life. Jack Sparrow already had a day’s head start, more than enough for the wily pirate to slip away yet again. Norrington was determined this would be the pirate’s last escape from him. Nothing would stand in his way until his father’s work was finally laid to rest.

    He sighed, shrugging into his waistcoat and beginning to fasten the many buttons it boasted. ‘ ‘ I know. I just need get this job done. ’ ’

   ‘ ‘ Why do you work like you’re running out of time? Come back to bed, that would be enough. ’ ’

    He could see her lovely pout in person now as he leaned over his side of the bed to brush a kiss across her cheek.

    ‘ ‘ I’ll be back before you know I’m gone. ’ ’

    ‘ ‘ Come back to sleep. ’ ’ Esmeralda’s lips moved towards his out of habitual instinct, though her eyes remained shut in half-slumber.

    James smiled into their second kiss, finding her welcoming lips easily in the  low light the early morning sun provided them as it peeked over the horizon. ‘ ‘ The launch is at dawn. ’ ’

   ‘ ‘ Well, I’m going back to sleep. ’ ’ Her disappointment was palpable, and his heart broke to leave on such a sour note.

    ‘ ‘ Hey– ’ ’ His nose nuzzled behind her ear until she finally opened her lovely eyes to look at him. He pressed his forehead to  hers, the couples’ lips a scant breath apart as he spoke in a loving whisper. ‘ ‘ –Best of wives and best of women. ’ ’

    He left one last trail of kisses along her jawline and a final one to her lips before extracting himself from the bed. James pulled his coat on and tipped his hat to the lady of the house in a grand gesture before departing to what fate had in store upon his latest endeavour.

He Promised

Originally posted by johns-boyega

Requested: By some evil anon that wanted to rip out my heart. (Thank you :))

Pairings: Cassian Andor x Reader

Summary: Scarif may be done for, but Y/N has a few last words for the love of her life.

Warnings: angST, character death, Rogue One spoilers

Word Count: 1,034

A/N: I don’t know what happened. This is that fastest that I have ever written an imagine, and I almost made myself cry?? This man is going to be the death of me.

This wasn’t happening.

He was the best spy that you had and even when he went away, you knew in your heart that he was going to come back. He promised.

He was strong. Strong willed, strong minded. He was supposed to come back to you. “Cassian?” you called into his ear piece. You had never been so grateful for them. You had thought that you were thankful after all of the countless times that you guided him through Empire territory, but now, you were thanking whatever god that there may be that you were there for him.

“Y/N?” he was out of breath. You knew that he had been injured, but at this point he sounded like he was floating away. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Cass it’s me.” You felt the tears streaming down your cheeks. People all around you were breathing quiet sighs of relief. The plans had made it through, you had just an inkling of hope again. It was exactly what the rebellion needed. But you needed him.

“I’m so sorry.” He said quietly. His voice was so soft that you almost couldn’t hear him.

“It’s okay, Cass. You don’t have to apologize.” The tears were coming harder now, but there was no way in hell that Cassian was going to be able to hear them. He needed you now, and by all means you were going to be there for him.

“I just want to say-”

“Don’t act like this is goodbye.” You said, the words coming out more harshly than you had expected. “I can’t handle it if you act like this is goodbye.”

His breathing was growing heavier. This was bad. This was very, very bad. You had been praying in the back of your mind for a miracle, maybe since the day that you had met him. Just one crazy miracle of your own. That both of you were going to make it through this. That you were going to walk out the other side with Cassian’s hand in yours.

But there is a reason that they are called miracles. They don’t come around often.

“Y/N?” Cassian’s voice called you back to reality.  

“Hmm?” you hummed, knowing that if you tried to form words he would hear the frog in your throat. You weren’t going to tell him that you were crying. You were going to give him one last grace while he was still in this universe, if it was the last thing that you did.

“If this isn’t goodbye, then what is it?” Leave it to him to make you laugh at a time like this. But it wasn’t a laugh that lifted spirits. It reminded you of the tension that was making your body seize up.

“It’s… see you later.” You said after a moment of thought. If the force was real, and you knew in your heart of hearts that it was, then you would be seeing each other again.

“I better not be seeing you for a long time.” He said, his voice still soft, but a new edge of determination had peeped through.

Of course, even at a time like this, he was trying to protect you. To make sure that you were going to be okay. Next to the rebellion, he cared about you. Sometimes he would lie and say that you came before the rebellion, and sometimes, you like to pretend that it was true.

“I love you.” you said, before realizing that you hadn’t said anything loud enough for him to heat you. The tears were coming in hordes now, and you had to take a moment to catch your breath. “I love you.” you said again, wanting to be sure that he heard it.

“I love you more,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. Maybe that was your miracle. He was smiling. Not as big of a miracle as you had hoped for, but you were grateful for what you were granted. If the universe gave you a smile, you were hardly going to turn up your nose at it.

“I love you most.” You replied.

“Just this once, maybe let me win?”

It was the same joke that he had made countless times before, insisting that there was no way that you could possibly love him more than he loved you. He had taken his hand in yours, laying it over his heart. “You feel that?” he would say. “It’s all yours.”

You laid your hand over your own heart now, reminding yourself that it was still beating. “Alright, Cassian, you love me most.”

“Of course I do. All yours love.” You knew that his hand was on his heart as well. You couldn’t explain how, you just knew. “Promise me that you are going to-”

“Cassian?” Your heart was out of control. “Cassian?” You asked one more time. But you knew. It had only been a matter of time.

The blood was roaring in your ears, and you knew that there was no reason to stop the tears. They flowed freely, racking your body with sobs. You felt yourself shaking, unable to stop yourself. You felt helpless.

Cassian was gone. They were all gone. ‘Rogue One’ as they had named themselves. Their mission had succeeded, but what of those that left on it.

Every single one of them was never coming home. Never going to kiss their loved ones again. Never going to make a snide comment about the Empire, or cause you a headache with all of the whining. Everything they had ever been and ever could have grown to be, had just been obliterated.

You were spiraling down a dark path. One that Cassian would have hated to see.

So, even though you wanted to lay down on the floor and cry until you ran out of tears, you wiped your cheeks and removed your earpiece.

You had two options, you could have yourself a pity party, or you could get to work. You knew which one Cassian would have chosen. You had the death star plans, but better yet, you had something that only Cassian could have found a way to give you.

You had hope.

anonymous asked:

I'm sorry I know youre not currently accepting asks and feel free to just delete this one but I'm just gonna go ahead and take a chance anyway because i kind of need it... My birthday was yesterday and everything ended up pretty horribly and I'm just pretty lonely, and I was just wondering if you could maybe write something comforting with Yoosung...? Once again feel free to just delete this, I just thought I'd take my chances since your Yoosung one-shots always makes me feel better

Aw, darling, I’m so sorry that happened, birthdays are meant to be your special day so I’m incredibly sorry it didn’t work out that way. I hope you have much better days ahead of you! 

I drew a little Yoosung/MC to help cheer you up! I’m sure he’d do everything he could to cheer you up, as will I.

Anyhow, yes you are right, I’m not taking requests but I’ll make an exception to hopefully help make your day a little brighter! 

Let me know if there’s anything else I can do, you can pm me and I’ll send you positivity galore, and some feel-good shows/movies/music!

Speaking of music the song that’ll be used in this special prompt is For the Longest Time by Billy Joel the link is here if you’d like to check it out! 

I’m always here to help out in any way I can, so don’t hesitate if you need anything darling! I hope this helps <3

Anyhow, here is the prompt!


Your day, to say the least, had been dreadful.

You had opened the door to your quaint little home, a low huff slipping from your lips, feeling as if cinderblocks dragged behind you with each and every step you took.

Your husband, Yoosung noticed quickly. 

He had rushed to greet you, going to wrap you in his arms when he caught the bother drenching your expression.

“MC…?” He followed you to your seat on the sofa, your body sinking into the cushions. “What’s wrong?”

You scrunched up your nose, folding your arms across your chest. “I…I just had a really hard day.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?” He took your hand, squeezing it affectionately. “How about we order out tonight? I’ll order your favorite stuff!” 

You shrugged. “If you want.” 

“That bad?” 

You nodded. 

“Then I guess I better do something pretty great.” He laughed lightly standing up. “I’ll find something, don’t worry!” 

“Yoosung, you don’t have to-” 

He pressed a fond kiss to your head, beaming. “I know, but I want to.” 

You smiled just a tad.

He was a star in the murky night sky.

He was a bright, shooting star.

Yoosung ran off into the bedroom, assuring you he’d be back in no time, his eyes lit like a flame with ideas. 

And so, you waited, your mind slowly becoming more and more excited at what he may do. 

And eventually, he did come back, entwining your fingers with his, pulling you from the sofa, spinning you about as he did the most peculiar thing.

He began to sing. 

His voice was light and melodic, a smile engraved on his face as he began.

“Oh, oh, oh                                                                                                                          For the longest time                                                                                                          Oh, oh, oh                                                                                                                          For the longest time” 

“Yoosung what’re you-” You couldn’t help but break out into small bits of laughter, hastily trying to follow your husband’s steps as he lead you about, keeping you close.

As if you were the most precious treasure. 

“If you said goodbye to me tonight                                                                                  There would still be music left to write                                                                            What else could I do                                                                                                         I’m so inspired by you                                                                                                   That hasn’t happened for the longest time”

You buried your head in the crook of his neck, trying to hide the red that burst onto your cheeks.

And yet he continued to sing, his voice gentle and fond towards you, arms wound about you like wings.

“Once I thought my innocence was gone                                                                        Now I know that happiness goes on                                                                              That’s when you found me                                                                                              When you put your arms around me                                                                             I haven’t been there for the longest time”

As he sang the chorus again, he lifted you up, embracing you as he twirled you, setting you down as you ruffled his hair in your fingertips.


“Are you smiling? I think I even heard you giggle!” He exclaimed. “Does that mean it’d helped?”

You peppered his face in kisses, feeling a warmth take the place of the heaviness in your chest.

He began to sing once again, this time louder and more joyful, as though a bell chiming brightly. 

And despite all that occurred, he somehow made you feel brighter than the sun.

For in his eyes, you were his sun.

“I’m that voice you’re hearing in the hall                                                                          And the greatest miracle of all                                                                                        Is how I need you                                                                                                             And how you needed me too                                                                                          That hasn’t happened for the longest time” 

Oh wow, you’re tall! (MaineWash AU)

[AO3] [Fic Tag]

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3457

Summary: David Washington just wants to get through a normal day of work at his friend’s cafe, but of course his verbal filter decides to take a snow day. Of course it does.

Notes: This fic is based off an AU suggested by @carrionkiid​ over here in this post, and I basically just had to write even though I’ve never written an AU before. This also got much longer than I intended it to, but hey!

David Washington hummed along to the tune of his music as he walked to work, wrapped up tight in a thick winter coat. The streets were quiet, the route was familiar, and it was going to be another quiet day at work with the snow this heavy on the ground. He was relaxed; this day was going to be nothing out of the ordinary.

The door to the café opened with the familiar quiet ringing of a bell, and the heated air enveloped him with warmth. He let out quiet sigh, fumbling with his iPod as he walked towards the back. He’d just about managed to get the headphones wrapped around it and the whole tangled mess shoved into his pocket when he nudged the door to the kitchen open, and suddenly felt the weight of multiple pairs of eyes on him.

He paused, looking up slowly. His co-workers were all huddled together, and they were all looking at him. With a sigh Washington’s shoulders slumped, and with a deadpan face he simply said: “What now?”

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anonymous asked:

Love love LOOOOOVVEEE the update! It's my favorite fic atm and I'm so so happy! <3 Can I request for a scene? Of course you don't have to do it if it won't fit the story line but I hope you could make a drabble of some sort :p I want to see Harry's reaction the first time he heard Dex called Louis 'Ma' which is really really cute by the way I love the 3 of them so much! Hope you'll update soon! (but i dont mind waiting take your time :D) THANKS FOR THE WONDERFUL STORY!!!

Oh look! I was supposed to do a drabble and ended up writing a mini-chapter on it…oops? 🙈 Sorry for the long wait, love. I hope this was what you were after! 

You Smell Like- Extra Scene!

Note: This scene takes place somewhere between Chapters 6 and 7 :)

Harry was usually good with babies. He had this way of knowing what they were crying about and how to soothe them. This knowledge had served him well when it came to his own son. At least, it had until today.

“Mac!” Dex had been sobbing out the word all morning and neither Harry nor any of his Betas had the faintest idea what his child meant.

“Maybe he wants a bath?” Liam suggested, discretely covering his ears as the toddler continued his piercing cry.

“How the f-fudge does the word ‘mac’ sound like ‘bath’ to you?” Zayn growled, hands clapped over his own ears.

Harry sighed. When Zayn and Liam started snapping at each other…well, that just showed how on edge Dex’s tantrum was making them all.

Perrie had walked into the room twenty minutes ago, taken one look at the frantic werewolves surrounding Dex, and disappeared out the door with a vague murmur of needing to call someone.

“Here!” Niall shoved his laptop in front of Dex and the toddler paused mid-cry to study it, face mildly confused.

“Uh…Niall?” Cara blinked at the disgruntled-looking blonde, “What are you doing?”

“He said he wanted a Mac!” Niall defended, looking at Harry for back-up.

Harry had to physically restrain himself from face-planting.

“Niall,” Liam groaned, echoing the words everyone was thinking, “The kid isn’t talking about Mac computers. He doesn’t even know how to work a computer!”

As if to reaffirm Liam’s point, Dex started crying again, even louder than before.

“I need more caffeine to deal with this shit,” Zayn muttered under his breath, slinking off into the kitchen.

“Dada! MAC!” Dex wailed again, kicking the laptop away with one small foot.

“What do you want, babe?” Harry asked despairingly, picking his son up from the sofa and rocking him in the hopes that it would get the boy to quieten down, “Are you tired?”

“Or bored?” Nick asked.

“Do you want a toy?” Liam offered.

“Or my computer?” Niall chimed in.

“Seriously, Niall! Just drop the idea of-” Liam was cut off by a familiar voice saying, “He’s hungry.”

Harry didn’t hold back his sigh of relief as the welcoming scent of Louis flooded through the Manor, wrapping around him like a caress. Behind Louis, stood Perrie, a phone in her hand and a smug look on her face.

It took Harry a second to notice that Dex had stopped his wailing the moment he had spotted Louis and was now staring at him with something akin to relief.

“We tried to feed him!”

“He didn’t want bananas!”

“Are you sure he doesn’t want my computer?”

How Louis managed to understand anything from the sudden clamour of voices directed his way, was a miracle.

“No, Niall. He doesn’t want your computer,” Louis answered the blonde first, petting his hair to stop him from pouting, “And you may have fed him but he’s got something specific in mind, don’t you love?”

“Ma!” Dex shouted, happily, “Mac!”

The boy’s face was still damp with tears but apart from that, there was no sign of his earlier grief. He kicked his legs out until Harry took the hint and lowered him to the floor, watching with a pounding heart as Dex crawled up to Louis and lifted his arms. He snuggled  into Louis’ arms when the man picked him up.

“Nothing beats a good mac and cheese,” Louis agreed, approvingly, tilting his head to the side in an obliging manner so Dex could rub his cheek against his neck.

Harry watched them with an overwhelming fondness in his heart. Then, his mind finally registered what Dex had called Louis.

“Ma?” Nick beat him to the question, raising an eyebrow at Louis and…smirking, for some reason.

Louis scowled at Nick but he still blushed, sending Harry a quick, half-embarrassed shrug.

“It’s his way of trying to say ‘Tommo,” he explained but there was something about the way he avoided Harry’s gaze that suggested it ran deeper than that.

Before Harry could ask, Louis was turning away to survey the rest of the Betas.

Harry could tell the exact second Louis picked up on their restlessness (an entire morning with a crying toddler resulted in a lot of agitated werewolves!) from the way he narrowed his eyes.

“Alright, you lot. Go for a group run. You look like you could use one,” Louis told them.

Most of the Betas seemed delighted with the suggestion, Zayn actually dragging Liam out the door by the arm without so much as a backwards glance. Niall though, lingered a little, wanting to play with the other wolves but also wanting to stick close to his Alphas.

Or, more specifically, Louis. All of them adored Louis and Harry couldn’t fault them one bit.

Dex didn’t seem too happy with Niall’s decision because he started to gently gnaw on Louis’ skin while staring pointedly at the blonde. Harry’s breath caught in his throat as his son marked Louis, his teeth leaving behind tiny red blemishes on his best friend’s neck.

Louis didn’t seem to mind, if the way he held the boy even closer was any indication.

It was natural for Dex to feel so possessive, Harry thought to himself. After all, Dex had bonded with Louis more than he had with any other pack member and the boy was still just a child. Too young to know how to control his instincts.

Then again, when it came to Louis, Harry often found it difficult to control his own instincts. Even now, Louis’ scent was drawing him closer, his wolf responding to something in the pleasant smell.

“Niall, go for a run, please?” Louis phrased it as a suggestion but Harry noted the subtle changes in his body language-the way he straightened his back and pushed back his shoulders as he looked the Beta directly in the eye- that made it clear that it was a command.

Niall whined softly until Louis rolled his eyes and scratched behind the Beta’s ears.

“I’ll save you a plate of mac and cheese,” Louis promised.

That seemed to be what Niall was waiting for as he grinned before bounding out the door to catch up with the other Betas.

Louis turned to face Harry, the fond smile he had worn when speaking to Niall, softening into something even fonder.

“You alright there, Hazza?”

Harry nodded, his feet walking towards the younger boy before he could stop himself.

“Yeah,” he murmured against Louis’ neck, nuzzling against the marks Dex had left on his skin, “Thank you.”

Louis made a soft noise in his throat, a sound Harry felt compelled to hear more of, before pulling away and fixing the Alpha with a cheeky grin.

“So…would you like to cook or shall I?”

It was in the interest of preventing his kitchen from catching on fire, that Harry cooked. And if he made a bit extra so Louis would have a plate to eat…well.

Louis may have murmured, “You shouldn’t have, Hazza”, but he still ate every bite as Harry’s inner wolf preened with satisfaction.

That night, when Harry was tucked into Louis’ bed with Dex in between them, the toddler murmured, “Ma,” in his sleep, unconsciously reaching out for Louis.

Even in the near dark, Harry could detect Louis’ flushed face and the way his heartbeat climbed. There were a few seconds of silence before Harry managed to clear his throat, fighting past the onslaught of emotions that clawed at him to murmur, “Do you mind him calling you that?”

Louis shook his head, biting his lip as he replied, “No. I..I kind of like it.”

His voice was a trace more hesitant when he added, “Do you mind?”

Harry felt his wolf calm, a low rumble similar to a purr building up in his throat and he couldn’t explain just how right it felt when he murmured back, “No, it’s…nice.”

Louis huffed out a laugh, murmuring something that sounded like, “nice”, under his breath but he didn’t protest when Harry pulled him closer.

Dex sighed happily between them, curling his hands possessively against Louis’ shirt.

Harry’s wolf watched over the pair until both Louis and Dex were asleep. As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but notice that his wolf was content in a way it hadn’t been for years. 

Thank you for giving me this idea, anon! I thoroughly enjoyed writing it 😘 xx

It was a sunflower seed.

Steve peers into his reflection in the mirror in front of him. His head tilting to the side ever so slightly, eyes squinting as they tried to grasp what exactly that meant for him. His still small and stubby fingers reach up, tracing the image placed smack dab in the middle of his chest.

“It means that they aren’t born yet.” He hears his mother say, Steve looks back at her his eyebrows threading together. He doesn’t understand. He remembers seeing his mother’s lips curl into a soft smile as she took him into her arms. “You might be a little disappointed now, but just wait until you meet them.” Her words come across as vague, and fly over his head at the tender age of four. But they soon become the words he holds onto all through out his life. 

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Russia and Germany holding their baby for first time!:

Russia/Ivan Braginsky-
He couldn’t believe his eyes, but he wanted to. He wanted to believe all of the peace in this moment would last forever. But one thing he couldn’t wrap his head around was the size of the child. They were so…small. Their entire hand barely held one of his fingers. This was the smallest human he’d ever seen, and it was all his to love.  
Germany/Ludwig Beilschmidt-
They were crying. Three minutes in the world, less than one of those in his arms and they were crying. He shushed and rock, praying it wasn’t him the child already detested.
“Please…don‘t cry?” He begged, and by some miracle it worked. When his voice hit the infants ears, they quieted. And he fell in love.

(I mean it, please do not ask for more of these, i can not do it. They will be Immediately deleted and not even remotely considered.)

so… @sparklystrangergalaxy, I wrote a reply to your ask about KageHina + super glue, and then drafted it which is the thing that fucks up the Read More. So I had to redraft it without the ask, im so sorry i’m dumb (also it is literally nothing like what you suggested ;A;)

“Is Hinata-senpai going to be okay?” one of the second year players asks a teammate nervously.

“I d-don’t know,” a distraught first year says. “K-Kageyama-senpai said–he said–”

There is a heavy sigh from behind them, and they turn, and look up, to see Tsukishima and Yamaguchi at the door of the gym. The crowd of younger players mobs them.

“What,” Tsukishima asks blandly, “is going on.”

“Hinata-san had an… accident…” a second year tells him, before he’s interrupted by the hysterical first year, who says shrilly,

“The captain says he doesn’t know if Hinata can ever play volleyball AGAIN!”

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi exchange glances.

“Are you sure that’s what he said?” Yamaguchi asks kindly. When the boy nods tearfully, he looks at the blonde middle blocker.

“No,” Tsukishima says instantly.

“Tsukki! We have to at least go see.”

They do, and it is exactly as Tsukishima had feared, which is to say, utterly stupid. Kageyama sits mournfully under one of the volleyball nets in a decent impression of the Pietà, face twisted in agony. Hinata lays across his lap as though dead, cradled in his arms, hands clasped together at his side. This is the suspicious part.

“Tobio,” Yamaguchi says as they approach, and Kageyama looks up at them. His face appears to be wet, which could just be sweat, but Tsukishima is pretty sure he’s been crying over Hinata’s lifeless body. “What happened?”

“Hinata–dumbass–” Kageyama says, choked up. “He was helping with one of the props for the cultural fair and he–he–”

“Say it, Kageyama,” Hinata gasps. “Tell them…”

“He super glued his hands together!” Kageyama bursts out, before violently and dramatically whipping his head to the side as a sob escapes him. 

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anonymous asked:

Do you know which episodes JDM is in on Grey's anatomy?

Season 02
02x13 - Begin the Begin
02x19 - What Have I Done to Deserve This?
02x20 - Band-Aid Covers the Bullet Hole
02x21 - Superstition
02x22 - The Name of the Game
02x23 - Blues for Sister Someone
02x24 - Damage Case
02x25 - 17 Seconds
02x26 - Deterioration of the Fight or Flight Response
02x27 - Losing My Religion

Season 03
03x04 - What I Am (just his voice)
03x16 - Drowning on Dry Land
03x17 - Some Kind of Miracle

Season 05
05x01 - Dream a Little Dream of Me: Part 2
05x07 - Rise Up
05x08 - These Ties That Bind
05x09 - In the Midnight Hour
05x10 - All by Myself
05x11 - Wish You Were Here  
05x12 - Sympathy for the Devil  
05x13 - Stairway to Heaven  
05x22 - What a Difference a Day Makes  
05x23 - Here’s to Future Days