i don't even know if i like this or not but it took me ages to make so here it is

anonymous asked:

Do you have any just happy fluffy (I don't mind if smutty or nah) established relationship sterek just nice and derek is happy yay pls

AND

Anonymous said:Hey so I just had a really crappy prom experience so I could use some fics, can you give me some established fics with sterek? An update maybe? Thank you you guys really helped me get through this.

I’m sorry about your prom. But hopefully this fluffy list will help. And here’s the tag for more. 

Originally posted by girlmeetssterek

Ephemeral by thegirlgrey

(1/1 I 2,100 I Teen)

Stiles has a weird reaction to his anesthesia. He wakes up with temporary amnesia. The resulting video gets 1 million hits on YouTube in 6 hours. (Beyoncé can suck it.)

Ashes, Ashes by ShanaStoryteller

(1/1 I 2,699 I Teen)

The Sheriff gets a call at work - someone’s tried to burn down his home with his son inside.

“I thought of you coming here, and finding me dead, of another burnt out husk of a body, something else fire has stolen from you, of you having nothing left to grasp but ashes,” John can’t even call that a whimper, it’s clearly a whine as Derek’s hands tighten against Stile’s hips, as if his boy will shudder to dust at the mere mention of the possibility unless Derek’s hands can hold him into one piece, “and that thought was worse than dying.”

boys will be boys by HalfFizzbin

(1/1 I 1,309 I General)

Schedule a parent-teacher conference with the Hales at your own risk.

Let me take care of you by LillianDeLooney

(1/1 I 3,434 I Mature)

Stiles is six months pregnant with Derek’s babies when his mate gets home as a teenager, somehow having gotten de-aged again. Their mate bond is still strong, however, and all Derek wants to do is take care of Stiles…

When the Sky Fills With Rain by BarlowGirl

(1/1 I 5,205 I Explicit)

Derek raised an eyebrow. “You know I can shop for myself, right?”

“I know you can,” Stiles said. “But I don’t think you will. So we’re gonna go to Walmart and get you a couple packs of tank tops ’cause you look really hot in those and some more t-shirts and Henleys and basically whatever you need, and I’m going to stare at you and maybe drool a little while you try them on. And then we can go to wherever you usually buy jeans and I’m going to stare at your ass while you try those on.”

“Good to know,” Derek said dryly.

Stiles grinned. “Yup. And then you can wash them in my washing machine and leave them on my couch until they stop smelling like strangers and smell like us.”

Derek absolutely did not turn red.

Or: 5 Times Stiles Took Care of Derek and One Time Derek Took Care of Stiles.

When Nothing Else Works by hannah_baker

(1/1 I 5,915 I Teen)

Sheriff Stilinski is slowly and begrudgingly accepting the fact that werewolves exist, regular bad things still do happen sometimes, and his son may or may not be dating Derek Hale behind his back.

Or, the one where having Derek Hale in his bed is the only way Stiles can get to sleep. Much to his father’s annoyance.

Puppy Separation Anxiety by KaliopeShipsIt

(2/2 I 9,188 I General)

Derek and Stiles’ three year old daughter is completely fine with Derek dropping her off at Pre-K, but has a separation anxiety induced meltdown every time Stiles does.

Naturally, Derek jumps to conclusions that couldn’t be farther from the truth if he’d tried.

The One with the Kiss Cam by nerdfightingwhovian

(1/1 I 9,224 I Teen)

While at a hockey game, which was totally Stiles’s idea, the cameramen behind the Kiss Cam think Erica and Stiles are together. Derek, right next to Stiles, has to intervene on the behalf of his mate.

Also, there might or might not be a homophobic couple who start screaming at our werewolfy hero. He also might or might not give them the cold Hale stare.

Excerpt:
“We were all wondering if we could go see a hockey game. Erica and I really love to watch hockey, and Boyd finds it fascinating, mainly because it makes Erica blood thirsty, and their sex life is really weird. And Danny likes it and so does Kira, and she’s single and ready to mingle after her last boyfriend turned out to be less than ideal. Isaac is pretty much interested in anything that will guarantee him getting laid. And Scott and Allison just want to use the cold rink as an excuse to cuddle. And Lydia will jump at any chance to do more match and basically show off her brain to everyone within hearing distance.”
“What about Jackson.”
“Fuck Jackson.” And yeah, Derek should have expected that.

you break the mountain down by runphoebe

(1/1 I 10,655 I Explicit)

Stiles is pretty sure that it’s not normal to have a sexual awakening six years into a relationship. He’s pretty sure that’s supposed to happen at the beginning and not, you know, after you already have a mortgage together.

Stiles and Derek have been together for six years when Stiles graduates from college and moves back to Beacon Hills.

This Is Your Life, Derek Hale! by PolarisTheYoungWolf

(7/7 I 23,699 I Explicit)

I need more de-aged Derek and pregnant mate Stiles! Can you imagine de-aged teen Derek being told he has a family of his own? Like the baby(babies) are born and he’s like that for like…a weekend or maybe even a week or longer. And it’s just overwhelming and awesome and funny and teendaddy Derek trying to also be a doting husband/mate and maybe they have to go out…because the babies have chickenpox and they need the pink lotion to help with the itching(Do werewolves get chicken pox? Maybe one of the babies is human and got it in case Were’s can’t?) and Derek is torn from staying with his pups and getting something that will help their recovery? I dunno…just…de-aged daddy Derek that’s mates with Stiles is TOO cute an image!!!!

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too by MereLoup

(4/4 I 82,981 I Explicit)

Derek spent too much time, walking amongst the ashes of his life and refusing to move on into the future; refusing to move past the anguish. But somewhere along the way he found purpose, rebuilt this house, found his mate, and he realized that this didn’t have to be the end, that he could continue the legacy of the Hale pack and carry on the traditions and rebuild his life. And now, in this house, with his pack, he was beginning the next generation of the Hale Pack with the most incredible mate he could have ever dreamed of.

Tastes Like Strawberry

Plot (Requested): Just some smut Draco x Reader.

Warnings: My first smut, sorry if it is bad. SMUT: Oral sex (female receiving), kind of public sex. Let me know if you guys want a part 2!

Word Count: 1.015.

Author’s Note: English is not my first language, so if there are mistakes I’m sorry. Message me and I’ll correct them. Also, thanks for almost 2K followers. You guys are making me really happy. My classes has just started, so I won’t be posting a lot. Sorry about that, but don’t give up on me!

Originally posted by tearswillalwaysfall

Originally posted by moan-s

The hallways were empty, what was quite useful for me and Draco. It was late, and we sneaked out our dormitories to hang out since none of us wanted to sleep. We ended up in the astronomy tower, the cold fresh air sending goosebumps up and down my spine.

“The sky is beautiful…” I said, looking up to the constellations.

“Not as much as you are.” Draco whispered in my ear and kissed my neck, hugging me from behind. I smiled at his silly complement and felt his arms pulling me more into him.

“That’s why you brought me here? So we could be alone and no one would listen if I screamed for help?” I asked, turning around to look in his Grey eyes.

“Believe me, Princess, if I was in intent to make you scream, it would be for more, not for help.”  He smiled sassy and kissed me. In that very moment it was like the whole world has vanished, and there was just the two of us, and I knew he felt that too. Being with Draco makes me feel good with myself and with life. I guess that’s what love means: to feel complete.

We were still kissing (who needs oxygen right?) when I heard an owl. I looked at the side of the tower’s balcony and saw Storm, my owl, with a package. I leaved Draco and walked to her, getting the small box from her hands and reading the note from my mom:

My dear, your idea for our garden worked. I’m sending the results. Miss you.

                                                                                                                              - Mom.

Curious, I opened the box to find it filled with strawberries, my favorite fruit of all. I smiled and felt Draco approaching me, trying to see what was it I had received. “I think I just found us something really good to do.” I said.

“Com’ sit here then.” He said, sitting in the ground and tapping his lap. I rolled my eyes and went to him. Although I would never confess, I loved when he was kinda bossy like that. It was just… Hot. There are not other words to describe it. I sat on his lap and got one of the strawberries from the box, handing it to him. When he went to grab it with his mouth I ate it. “Really Princess, you’re going to play this game with me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said, innocently and grabbed another fruit. This time, I actually did teased him, eating that thing in the most sexy and insinuating way I could. I don’t think that looked like I pictured, but Draco seemed quite turned on, so I didn’t mind at all. “I’m just eating.”

“I’m going to ‘just eat you’ out any of these days.” He said seriously enough for me to believe. I knew he was messing with me back, because his words affected me like no one’s else could, but I wouldn’t loose, not this time.

“I bet I taste better than this things…” I said, biting another strawberry.

“I bet on that too.” He said, using one of his arms to position me better on his lap. “Actually, I know you taste away much better then these.” He said, kissing my neck softly and running one of his hands through my leg, dangerously close to my pussy. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind tasting you right now.” With that I felt his hand slipping inside my pants. His fingers teased me and I moaned. “Merlin’s sake, Princess. I haven’t done anything and you’re already this wet?”

I knew he was smiling victorious, but I couldn’t care less.

“Draco… Please…”

Say it once more, Baby Girl. You know how much I love it when you beg.” He took the box of strawberries from my hand with his free one and putted it aside as he kept teasing me. I moaned again, and heard him laugh. “Just ask Princess. That’s all you have to do.” He whispered, biting my ear lobe.

“Fuck me.” I begged.

“As you wish, my love.” His fingers found my clit, pressing it gently and earning a loud moan from me. “Be quite, Princess, or you’re not winning anything.” I bit my lip, trying to focus on staying shut, but it was quite hard when Draco’s fingers slowly started bumping on me. I felt myself getting closer as his rhythm speeds up, and when I was at the age he took his hand off me, leaving me feeling empty.

“What the fuck Draco…”

“I said I wanted to taste you, darling. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I just need a better place…” He held my waist and apparated us to an empty classroom. “This will do it.” He said, trowing me upon the table and laying me down.

“What if someone cough us?” I asked, nervous.

“Be quite and no one will.” He said, smiling as he knew he was going to make it really difficult for me. He positioned his self between my legs, pulled my pants off and started kissing my thighs, slowly coming up. “You smell good. Fuck, how’s that even possible?” He whispered for himself and got to my panties, sliding them down and taking them off me. I was starting to get impatience when I felt him kiss me gently, just to get rough right after, sucking on my clit. I had to bit my lip to the point of it almost bleeding so I could be kept shut. He smirked and inserted two fingers inside me, thrusting fast.

“Draco… Fuck… I’m going to…” I tried to not scream his name.

“Come for Daddy Princess.” That nickname was all I needed to cum hard. Draco licked me up and then helped me sitting on the table. I tried to catch my breath and he smiled, probably proud of the good job he has done. “As I said. Better then strawberry.”

I laughed. How could he go from such a Sex God to a jerk, I’d never understand. But Merlin’s sake, I loved it.

i think one of the ways isak grew during his season is by starting to realize that he can be a positive addition to people’s lives, that he can, in fact, make things better 

things weren’t going well at home for god knows how long, and i can’t help but think that isak took some of the blame for what was happening, because this situation wasn’t something he was able to make better. his mom was going through a very hard time, his parents’ relationship seemed to have fallen apart, his father left, and there was nothing isak could do about it. there was nothing he should’ve had to do about it as their child, at such a young age, but he saw his home become broken, and he saw that there was nothing he could do to fix it. i think isak probably tried as best as he could, by trying to not be an “additional burden” in the household, by remaining quiet and closed off and trying not to add fuel to the fire. but things didn’t work out, and he ended up having to leave home at sixteen, leaving as things still seemed broken beyond repair 

and then you have his friendship with eva, one of his closest friends, and he blamed himself entirely for what happened to her relationship with jonas for over a year. he saw himself as the sole reason why jonas and eva weren’t together anymore, why they weren’t talking, and why the trio of friends they once were had fallen apart. and isak wasn’t innocent here, he did betray eva, but he wasn’t entirely to blame, eva said so herself. but once again, that’s the thing with isak, he blames himself more than he should for things he doesn’t have control over

isak will blame himself, think he’s at fault for other people not doing well. and you see that thinking pattern during the season. you see it in the locker room scene when even tells him he broke things off with sonja, and isak apologizes because he thinks it might’ve made him sad, i’m sorry if because of me you were sad. you also see it in the minutt for minutt clip, when he’s on the phone with sonja, and she has to remind him that it’s not his fault even’s not feeling well, that his mental illness is the reason why he’s feeling that way. he feels a lot of guilt, and sometimes his feeling of guilt is justified because he does mess up, speak before he thinks, and it’s a good thing that he feels remorseful and wants to apologize, it’s a good thing he wanted to apologize to eskild after what he told him in pride, it’s a good thing he wanted to apologize to mahdi after he pushed him, it’s a good thing he wanted to apologize to noora when he thought he might’ve been a little too harsh with her. it shows what a truly good and caring person isak is. but the amount of guilt he feels is sometimes disproportionate, because once again isak would see himself as the guy who can’t make things right, can only make them worse

but i think, or at least i’d like to think that isak has learned to take a step back and see the progress he makes, and realize that messing up is not all he does, see that he can, in fact, make things better, be a good person to others. i like to think he holds himself accountable just enough when he does mess up, enough to apologize and realize he was wrong and learn. but i also like to think that he truly sees what a great friend and boyfriend and person he is, and how it’s a good thing for the people he cares about to have isak in their life. i like to think that isak’s perception of himself is now a far better representation of who he actually is, and the role he plays in other people’s lives

jeemyjamz  asked:

This prompt idea has been bugging me for a few days and since I don't have the writing prowess to jot my thoughts into words...you up for writing a one-shot where Betty takes Jughead on their first date where she sets up a makeshift drive in by the lake knowing how much Jug misses it

I am always up for a good old fashioned writing challenge, my friend!
***


“Betty, I don’t understand why I’m blind folded? Not all of us have the natural grace of a seasoned athlete, like you”

Jughead grumbled underneath the tie wrapped around his eyes, tripping over a thick tree limb.

Betty couldn’t help the tiny giggle that escaped as she helped her very clumsy date stand upright.


“ oh hush juggie, this is supposed to be a fun surprise, you don’t get to have too many first dates.” She said tugging him along.

Jughead let her pull him pouting,

“Well it smells like nature and outside”

Betty snorted and he finally said what had been on his mind since she had asked him on this date.

“I know I haven’t been on many of these, or even one of these, but it’s to my understanding that the boy should ask the girl on the first date and probably do most of the planning?”

He heard Betty huff out a breath and knew she was getting ready to rant. This was one of his favorite sides of Betty.

“Says who? There is no rule that states men have exclusive rights to first dates, that is just a societal misconception made up by egotistical macho men who want to show they are the smarter sex. I planned this date because I wanted too.”

She got quiet for a second before she continued

“Also it didn’t seem like you were getting ready to ask me anytime soon so, I was being proactive.”

Jughead blushed deep scarlet and as soon as he opened his mouth to speak she beat him to it.

“Anyway you can stop complaining we’re here.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“So I can take this thing off my face?”

He felt it being unknotted before it fell to the flor in front of him.

He almost wanted to put it back on to make sure what he was seeing in front of him was real.

There in the middle of the woods was a huge white sheet held up by two trees right by the river. An old fashioned projector that he recognized from the drive in, (it was his favorite one he would watch movies on the wall with that one for hours,)was propped a distance from it and there was a picnic blanket laid out right in front of the sheet.
His eyes immediately found all the food and his stomach growled involuntarily.
On the blanket was piles of film reels from all different types of genres.

His very own riverside drive in.

He heard Betty clear her threat from behind him

“I know it’s not the drive in, but I know how bad you miss that place and I managed to snag a few things before they tore it down, i was gonna just give them to you, but I figured this might be better…”

She trailed off playing with her fingers waiting for his response.

He stared at her for what felt like ages, watching her wiggle a little under his gaze.

When finally he took two large strides and had her wrapped up in his arms and his mouth on hers.

She tasted like mint toothpaste and strawberries and cream.

He had never tasted anything that good in his life.

And he’d tasted plenty of things.

When they both pulled away for air she laughed

“So I guess you like it?”

He pulled her back in kissing her slowly before pulling away

“Best first date ever.”

anonymous asked:

I know you are happy for the Klaroline endgame but don't think that it is sad that Caroline was the only vampire left? She will live for ever or at least get to live for a more extended time than humans do and she will see everyone she loves die. It has already started. Her father, her mother, her husband. She will outline her children too. How is that a good end for her?

How is it not?

Let me start by saying that despite JP’s obsession for turning TVD into a human soap this show was originally based into the vampire mythology. It is meant to deal with vampires and their existence. The pros and the cons and the darkness and the grandeur and the immortality. Ships and endgames aside Caroline Forbes ending up the only vampire in a show that is meant to be based on the vampire genre is an honor and a homage to everything this show once stood for. Every vampire of the show faced the same destiny you describe here. Damon, Stefan, Katherine, the Originals. And yet when their stories began and they were introduced to the audience everyone took in their story expecting to feel their age and get to know their ageless journey throughout the centuries. No one complained about their predicament. Everyone wanted to get more into it. Either their story was tragic, or intriguing, or dark, or hopeful. It was interesting because the very concept of immortality is an unachievable dream that intrigues humans. So many writers get to write for Vampires, Demons, Gods, Immortals, etc. Because their stories are enveloping every hope and aspiration and tragedy and epic emotion a human can have and dream of. The unreachable. The impossible. Even something to sent the human soul straight to damnation. All those elements hide greatness and misery in them. And Caroline Forbes was meant to endure and persevere and become a Vampire. She relished in her nature. She owned it. She accepted it and craved the perks that come with vampirism. She would not turn to a human if she had the chance. She never wanted or expressed that wish. For the simple reason that she likes been strong, ageless, fearless and she prefers who she is not to the girl she used to be.

On the other hand everything you describe in your ask are things that can happen in a human life too. So what happens then? You give up? You curse your life? You find no meaning to it? A person can outline others and can outlive even love and memories and things he or she never thought possible. Calamities and tragedy are part of life either that life is meant to carry on for a few decades or longer or less. It is what we do with our time and how we face the things that happen to us that make life worth it. It is even how we stand in the face of loss and loniliness. How we grieve. How we move on. How we hope. How we persevere and if there was one motto that Caroline Forbes ever had in that show was perseverance.

That does not take away the importance of the things you write in the ask. If anything they give more meaning to Caroline’s existence because facing these losses will make her live every day to the fullest. Will make her wiser. Will make her not lose track of time. Will make life have meaning.

Do you know who else also contemplated the very same thing you ask me here? How eternity would have no meaning? How it would suck? How it would be a source of depression. How it would take away and take away and leave no meaning?

Caroline Forbes did. In her birthday in season 3.

So much so that she did not want to celebrate her birthday and ended up giving a funeral to the human girl she buried behind.

And do you remember who exactly showed her that very same day that while life takes something from you it gives you something else back? That there is meaning to found in forever. Because truth is that loss will come and you contemplate giving up.

“ And I could let you… die. If that`s what you want. If you really believe your existence has no meaning.

I`ve thought about it myself once or twice over the centuries, truth be told.

And let us face it. Who doesn’t think of that in their lives? In our human lives fantasy aside have we never thought of that very same question? Of how to endure with loss? Of how to go on? Of how we can outlast the pain and not break? How to hold on to people that leave us behind or we lose them by death or any other reason? There is always a time even for the most optimistic people where they think that life has no meaning or ask themselves what is the meaning of it all.

So here Caroline’s immortality is a parallel to what we face in real life because art in its own way tries to give answers to such questions.

So what is the meaning of it all? How could Caroline ever move on and why should she want to? Why would that be good for her?

Because with the loss there is also the gain. Because life is not black or white. It has endless colors and twists.

Imagine that. Let it sink in. Life does not end with loss or with pain. This is why we are alive after all. There is whole world is out there still waiting. Genuine beauty. And music. And art. And more birthdays. More chances. More dreams. More potential. More possibilities.

A thousand more birthdays.

Because life does not end with loss and misfortune. You do not get to sacrifice your life in the name of loss or lost love or broken dreams. Life moves on. With endless possibilities ahead. With optimism. You grit your teeth and you move on until you can smile again. Life continues with pain and loss and tragedy and laughter and love and joy. Because every turn gives you something and it is in your hand to take that something and make something out of it. Something for you. And this is why people still dream of immortality and want to live longer and crave stories of ageless creatures. And admire those tragically and gloriously beautiful stories. Because life goes on and is full of wonder. And people can only wish to be able to be bigger than life. With everything that includes.

Time is unrelenting and brings change and with it society and culture and life itself alters and people want to be there to see it. To experience it. To live it. Because people reading history and get fascinated by it and then dream of the future. And Caroline Forbes will be there to live all that. Maybe she will outlive some people and maybe she will carry their memories with her but she won’t outlive everyone. Because she will get to meet more people. She has endless possibilities ahead. To love again. To laugh again. To be an extrovert. To be an introvert. To find more questions and answers. Endless horizons ahead and this is why Klaroline and the idea of a vampire Caroline Forbes was always so alluring to begin with and enchanted so many people. Because it held the promise of eternal. The promise of however long it takes. The promise of genuine beauty. Because it was brilliant and ugly and the truth and the lie and it was about brutal honesty and manipulation and rage and soothing silence and it was challenging and unpredictable. Just life is.

And how important is to actually be able to grasp that? And by that I mean life. To have nothing more to do than ask? Because this is what life is. It is your choice. It is as good as you let it. Because you need to want to live it. You need to want to ask. All you have to do is ask. And then take it step by step. Let me say it again. Life does not end with loss or grief. Emotion is not finite. Relationships come and go. Love can be replenished or be found in so many places even unexpected ones. Hope does not end. Meaning is always in different things all the time if you only open your eyes. Pain does not last forever no matter how cruel and unforgiving it seems at first. You fight back and you live. And all you have to do is ask.

And this is one of the many reasons why I personally like Klaroline so much and why their endgame was so important for me. Because of this very message that you sent me. Because Klaroline began with the very same core of question you put in that ask. Their very first defining scene was about what you ask me here and it answers your question perfectly. And that was why I was so moved by Klaroline chemistry and potential aside. Because of the promise of endurance. Because it was a promise of how Caroline could live and become greater than life and …loss. This is how it all began. And this is how Caroline will move on because this has been her origin story and not the end. It is only the beginning. But that is the beginning of another story.

So you tell me anon? How is that good for Caroline? Or for anyone for that matter? How is it good for anyone to actually live their life? To find meaning in that kind of existence?

Maybe simply by living. And that is a good thing.

Hitched (8/11)

a Captain Swan AU fan fiction

Summary:  After a series of events leave her life in pieces, Emma Swan finds herself hitchhiking out of Maine, her wallet empty and her heart broken. The best she hopes for is a driver who isn’t a pervert and takes her far away from the painful memories of Storeybrooke. But when she finds a ride with a quiet truck driver named Jones, Emma discovers that maybe a trustworthy friend is all she needs.

Rating: M or MA; some profanity and sex scenes.

Cover art: created by the absolutely fabulous @thesschesthair!!

Links: ff.net // ao3 // ch. 1 //  ch. 2 // ch. 3 // ch. 4 // ch. 5 // ch. 6 // ch. 7 // ch. 9 // ch. 10 // epilogue

(also @teamhook, @like-waves-on-the-beach, @lenfaz, @followbatb, @stardusted-nymph, @optomisticgirl, @xpumpkindumplingx​, and @spartanguard, thank you thank you thank you for reading and requesting tags!)

Note: This chapter was originally split up into two parts, and I was only going to post the first. But then I watched tonight’s episode of this @$%#ing show and i have such a major case of viewer’s blue balls that I figured it would be mean to do the same to my lovely readers. Please enjoy this monster chapter. Bless.

previous


CHAPTER EIGHT

Don’t freeze out there, huh? Good advice, but hard to follow, Emma thought sourly, as they left the warm, comfortingly grease-scented air of the bar behind. It had already been cold outside when they arrived, but the temperature seemed to have dropped even further while they were inside, and a light snow was falling. She pulled her coat’s hood up with one hand, then returned it to Jones’ arm, keeping a firm grip with all ten fingers.

He wasn’t staggering anymore, although as they walked slowly across the parking lot, threading through cars and trucks, his steps were slightly uneven. Not that she was perfectly steady, herself; Emma could still feel the beer pounding through her veins, making her a little dizzy. Their breath formed clouds in the freezing air, and Emma longed to call a cab, even just for a fifteen-minute walk.

Keep reading

sunday, 3am

“Gently,” she stressed.

Sitting on the sink-counter, she looked washed-out in the harsh fluorescent light of their bathroom, a little spatter of blood staining the shoulder of her light blue scrubs, her skin a wintery kind of pale and her freckles fading as though they’d been one of God’s afterthoughts. Her braid rested tattered and ripped down her spine, long red strands falling in front of the bruises on her cheek, and as he carded her hair back behind her ear, she flinched involuntarily, her shaky hands stilling on her lap, her breath hitching.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, the bag of ice in his hand hovering before her, his brain buzzing in the overtired way he used to feel accustomed to. If his circadian rhythms were reliable, then he and his body estimated that three in the morning, maybe half past, had come and gone. A long time ago, she’d told him that keeping lights on from the nighttime hours of ten-to-ten harmed the brain’s ability to produce melatonin, but he figured that light would be the least of their worries tonight.

Softly, she met his gaze, then looked back down at her lap.

“Sorry,” she said, wincing at the word. “I’m just…I’m still a little shaken up.”

He nodded, then gingerly brought the ice to her cheek, and though she recoiled at first, luckily she eased against his touch, let out a deep, exhausted breath.

“Is there any bleeding?” she asked, her voice muffled by the ice.

“None at all,” he said.

She swallowed, said, “The nurse there seemed like she was doing a great job of cleaning it.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you’re not concussed?” he asked as he leaned against the sink, the house around them so still and silent that it made the winter beyond them feel heavier and thicker than it already was. 

Looking up at him, she delicately pressed her lips together, said, “Had the nurse check. No headache or dizziness. I’m fine, Mulder.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding to himself. 

Though she avoided late shifts and preferred not to work on Saturdays, she’d been on a Saturday evening to Sunday morning emergency room shift, eight pm to eight pm, but a one am call let him know that a drunk patient, a punch to the face, and some police involvement meant that she would be coming home early. The last time he, in her words, went caveman left them both embarrassed and uncomfortable, but now, he wished he could’ve been there, could’ve watched over her and had her back so that some drunkard would’ve never decked her behind a modesty curtain, wouldn’t have had a chance to let her head thud against a sterile linoleum floor before punching her again. Though he wanted to think of this protectiveness as more than an ancient biological imperative, though he wished he didn’t find himself at fault for something so clearly irrelevant to his existence, he still brought Duane Barry and Phillip Padgett and all of the other men who had wronged her to mind, wondered once more if he could’ve done more. While at the Bureau, he could’ve argued that he was her partner, that it was of the utmost importance for them to watch each other’s backs, but now, he could hardly merit the wish.

And had he been there, he probably would’ve been decked too, only he would’ve cried about it instead of stoically driving home afterward like she did. Sometimes, he figured, the universe chose to punch the ones who could take it, not the ones who couldn’t.

“You’re never working a night shift again,” he said, hoping to elicit a laugh or at least a pained smile; thankfully, she reached toward him, wrapped her fingers in his open hand, kept her eyes down but let him know that she was present and receptive anyway. 

“I sure hope not,” she said, “but if they ever want me to, I’m sure that citing this incident will make them change their minds.”

Softly, he laughed, and though he figured it would hurt her to smile, the purplish and red smears of bruises on her cheeks keeping her from moving her face too much, she still quirked her lip, the movement minute but visible. 

“Did you have any Advil before you got home?” he asked.

“I had one before I left the hospital.” 

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”

She sucked her lips in again, met his gaze, so he nodded in understanding. He figured neither or them would be getting much sleep tonight.

“Well,” he said, his voice turning theatrical, “I can offer some warm milk-”

“No hot liquids,” she said quickly. “Have to keep the swelling down.”

“Okay,” he said, off-put. There went his ideas for chamomile tea and maybe a warm bath in order to calm her down. “Then, cold water.”

“Thrilling.”

He squeezed her hand.

“What are you looking for, then?” he asked. “My mind goes numb after midnight.”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “A movie, something mindless. Just until we feel we could fall asleep.”

So she shed her blood-smeared scrubs and opted for pajamas and thick socks; while she migrated to the couch, held the ice against her more bluish cheek, he rifled through their bookshelf, found Sleepless in Seattle and liked the irony it provided, so he popped the tape in, the lights off in their living room, the fish tank fluorescent and bubbling in the background, the winter winds shifting the shutters on their fixer-upper farmhouse. He sat on her less-bruised side, and as she spread a shared blanket over their laps, he fast-forwarded coming attractions of many years ago, her two hands wrapping around his free one. While the movie began, he tuned Meg Ryan out and kept his eyes on her instead, tried to survey her body for telltale signs of stress. 

She’d told him long ago that she felt anxiety not in her mind but in her limbs, in her joints; while her thoughts told her to push forward, her body cringed and faded, her demise coming not from her will but from her physical breakdown, so he’d tried to be a constant for her, had kept track of her hours and made sure that, even when she seemed so determined to finish just one more stack of paperwork, she would go home for a good night’s rest instead. From those many times, he knew what to look for: raised shoulders, shaky hands, huffed breaths, glasses pushed up far more often than one would expect. However, tonight shifted that response because her breakdown had come from a patient, not from herself, so while she took shallow breaths during the movie, he traced his thumb against the back of her hand, let her lean into him with her face angled so that his shoulder and her bruises never quite made contact. As four am ticked past, he realized that he’d never watched this movie in full, but because he’d distracted himself during the first half of the film, he hadn’t a clue where the plot went.

“Scully?” he whispered, almost wincing at how his voice interrupted the special, rural silence around them. 

When she didn’t shift, he craned his neck, and though he should’ve been able to tell through her long, languid breaths against his chest, he only noticed that she’d fallen asleep when he looked down and saw her closed eyes. Reaching for the remote, he turned the television off, and with deft, gentle motions, he managed to lift her up without waking her - after all, she could sleep anywhere, from passenger’s seats of cheap rental cars to bleach-ridden motel beds to his old leather couch back before he’d been able to offer her a bed instead - and carried her upstairs though his aging joints protested with each step. 

Thankful that he’d left the bed unmade after she’d called, he managed to slip her beneath the overturned sheets on his side of the bed, tucked her in before he climbed in on the other still-made side. Out here, the nights were dark save for the endless lines of unobstructed stars in the sky, so he kept their bedroom’s blinds up, soft light falling over her bruising face, the rise and fall of her chest shifting the duvet while she slept. Her pillow smelled like that lavender shampoo she liked, and though the stuffing was too thick for him, he found that he could still relax into it, their respective alarm clocks off for now, her bedside book-stack dwindling as his seemed only to grow larger, her reading glasses askew and the closet door left open in a way that would’ve scared him as a child. 

And he presented himself with two lonely options: either he could work out hundreds of different scenarios that left her unscathed and him some kind of half-assed hero, or he could watch her soft breaths until their cadence lulled him to sleep. For once, he picked the second option and drifted off before morning began to creep through the windows.

Thieves Among Us (3/5)

Let Jon have his armies and his devoted wildlings and the love of their people, she thinks. Let him have his dragon queen. She’s in possession of a secret, tragic as it may be, but at least it’s entirely her own. For Sansa, that’s more than enough. It has to be. Rated M; inspired by content from S7. Previous chapters can be found here.


Sansa’s eyes dawned with realization while she stared back at him, her face a kaleidoscope of surprise and panic that burst wide open before swallowing itself up again as she recovered from his unexpected appearance.  

“Hello, Jon,” she greeted evenly. Sansa may have had the sense to speak first, but her tone was distant—as distant as it had been when she’d spoken to him on the rampart. It was like she had thrown ice water over him, jolting him out of his dazed bewilderment. The fact that she sounded so casual, as if her presence wasn’t anything strange to ponder over whatsoever, only set him off the edge just a little further.

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50cyg  asked:

Okay I am dying over here. Everyone is talking about the swimming scene and no one is talking about the "I expect too much of him" scene. I NEED AN ANALYSIS OF THIS SCENE SO BAD, LIKE WHAT DID YAMATO MEAN WHEN HE SAID HIM AND TAICHI DIDN'T GET ALONG, I'M SOOOOO CONFUSED!!!!!!! Can you analyze this scene or direct me to someone who has cause I am going crazy, I don't understand what is happening

Oh lord, I told myself I wouldn’t be the 28-year-old grown ass woman pointing fingers at screenshots screaming “SEE?! SEE?? I TOLD YOU SO” but they’re making this too easy! LOL

I’ve been rambling about these two for seven years straight in this blog now.

That everybody usually has high expectations for Taichi, that’s hardly news.

That Yamato is particularly bad at it, we all knew that too! He’s been like that since the classic series, he always seems to fail to cast his frustrations aside and act understanding when it comes to Taichi in particular.

I think what makes me giggle about that scene is just how self-aware and conscious Yamato is of his attitude towards him now!

This basically confirms that when Yamato slamed his hand against the wall and Taichi ran away from him, Yamato realised again he worsened the situation between them. There’s a moment suddenly he doesn’t seem as frustrated with Taichi as he seems frustrated with himself! And God this means he felt bad, like, really bad for forcing him into that kind of situation.

Now it makes sense - more than ever - that Yamato suddenly tries to lift some of that pressure from his shoulder. It’s when he tells him more Ultimates in the team won’t require Omegamon as often. 

And of course Yagami Taichi is absolutely IN AWE…. this is Ishida fucking Yamato GOING EASY ON HIM. Acting KIND and UNDERSTANDING. WHAT THE HELL. THAT SURE EXPLAINS THE BLUSH?? 

Of course Yamato cares, we know that, even Taichi knows that, it’s just that Yamato admiting it right to his face is such a rare sight! lol

Taichi just need his boyfriend to calm the fuck down.

It took me AGES to figure out Yamato’s personality I swear but I suppose once we come to understand him he’s surprisingly very easy to read. lol

become-the-story  asked:

hey hey hey ;) Would it be possible to have a werewolf!Jungkook thingy ? A scenario where he finds his mate or smth idk it's up to you, I'm just a sucker for au's c: tyty ♥

HELLO MY LOVE 💕
AS PROMISED -  Here’s something to make your first day of school a little better (hopefully!) 💝 It’s prooobably not what you were expecting tbh 😅 I’M SORRY IT GOT OUT OF HAND WHILE COMING UP WITH IDEAS!
As always- if you don’t like it I’ll redo it!

(if you read this for the first time and find repeated passages let me know!!! tumblr hates me TT)


Varúlfur - part 1

Werewolf Jungkook x Reader
Words: ~3,500
Keywords: … Blood, Gore, Fear? I’M SORRY I SWEAR IT GETS BETTER

Originally posted by kpop-reads

He was frantically running. 
His paws were flying over the soft ground as if he was weightless as he followed the faint aroma he picked up earlier. The same smell that made him break all chains and escape his safe haven, a little house in the woods he had bought specifically for these nights. 

Full moon nights. 

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anonymous asked:

also, sam & shiro friendship feat. CANT STOP WONT STOP NOT SURE HOW TO STOP / I don't know how to make things right. So I'll keep pretending nothing's wrong. (pick one! or both! or neither! your choice!)

(Wondering what this is?  This is the 800 Followers Special!  Find out more here.  These requests are now closed.  Don’t wanna see these because there’s a lot of them coming over the next couple of weeks?  Blacklist ‘800 Followers Special’.  Hate reading on Tumblr?  These will be going on AO3 as ‘This Paradox Place’ a couple of days after posting.  Thanks to Xagrok for betaing!)


I don’t know how to make things right. So I’ll keep pretending nothing’s wrong. (you know that I’m not good)

It was a rare occasion that Sam saw Shiro’s bare chest and back.

Part of that was opportunity.  It was deeply unusual to find Shiro in any kind of undress these days.  He kept himself habitually covered from neck to toes, only his hand and face showing skin.  Even that wasn’t a perfect cover.  Not only was there the long, painful looking scar that crossed Shiro’s face, something he could never properly hide, but there was also the smaller marks.  Little nicks and pockmarks on his hand, one thin sliver of a cut that edges out past Shiro’s sleeves.  Ones that aren’t obvious, can’t be seen unless you’re looking.

Sam wasn’t always looking, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.

By now, he was mostly used to the face scar, despite the way that it aged Shiro by a solid half a decade.  And Sam knew the scar alone did that - once, in a moment of pained curiosity and insomnia, he’d coaxed one of the castle’s computers into producing something like photoshop, and saw for himself.  Under the scar, he looked how he used to.  Even the white hair and pale skin don’t do so much to age him.

That, Sam could adjust to.  None of them have any choice, least of all Shiro.  It becomes the new normal quickly.

But the boy’s chest and back were different.  Sam never got the chance to, and each time it was a smack to the face.

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nessian smut (acowar part15)

this is the first smut I’ve ever written but it’s pretty fuckin good tbh (thanks for leaving me with that @togreblog lol this is also 2k words) parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14


She looked up at him, awestruck by his eyes. She’d only known him two months, maybe three, but she could already tell this look was special. This wasn’t affection; it was adoration. No one had ever, ever, adored Nesta.

With this thought, Nesta’s stomach sank. She knew, with scars like hers, that there couldn’t be secrets between them.

“Come with me,” she said, standing and taking his hand. She felt underdressed beside him in her jeans, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

They walked together onto the veranda, which looked out over the foggy mountains. It reminded her of the first time they’d spoken — at dawn on the roof of Rhys’s townhouse, her dress and his eyes shining in the sun.

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Lord of Thorns (Chapter Four)

We get a little more into Wade’s personality here. Also, I am fairly proud of how I managed to combine the “voices in Wade’s head” with the whole “no real servants in the castle” from the movie, so I hope you guys enjoy it.

ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS HERE

Like and reblog for me guys! Spread the love for this fic!

Enjoy :)
*****************

You should put him in one of the bedrooms. He doesn’t need to be locked up, what harm could he do?
We haven’t had visitors in so long.
Don’t keep him in the cell.

Wade growled a little, pacing back in forth in his suite. “Lord of Thorns.” He snarled. “I used to be the most beautiful man in the kingdom and now I have been reduced to a child’s horror story. The enchantress has erased everything about who I am!”

That is not his fault.

“He stared at me like I was a monster!”

Can you blame him? You dragged him through the castle and threw him in prison. All he needed was a warm place to sleep.

“How did he even find me? All these years and not a single visitor and–”

Maybe he is the one. Maybe he can break the curse. Maybe that’s why he found us.

“I don’t even know how to break the curse. And why would some child be the key? No, he will stay where he is. I don’t want him anywhere around me.”
Then let him go.

“I–I can’t. He has to stay. I don’t think…I don’t think I can handle being alone here anymore.”

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Tano and Kenobi: Braiding and Beading

Previously on Tano and Kenobi…

After his vision of a possible future, Qui-Gon Jinn insists that he be allowed to train Obi-Wan Kenobi, in spite of Ahsoka Tano and Obi-Wan’s protests. When Masters Windu and Yoda are unable to find a solution to the problem, Qui-Gon and Ahsoka agree to duel for the privilege of training the young Initiate. Fortunately for Obi-Wan, Ahsoka is the superior duelist that day…

First | Previous | Next | AO3


As soon as the duel was decided in Ahsoka’s favor Obi-Wan jumped up and ran over to his master, immediately fretting over the tortured claw her hand was frozen in. “Master, we have to get you to the healers!”

Ahsoka let out a soft, exhausted laugh and shook her head, taking her left hand and slowly, carefully, with a great deal more skill than Master Yoda or Windu expected of her, sent the Force running down her arm. The cool electricity soothed her agitated nerves, inflamed muscles and ligaments: it hurt like a blaster bolt to bare skin but it was much easier to use the Force like this in the Temple than when she was on the run from the Empire.

Everything seemed easier here.

With a relieved sigh, Ahsoka relaxed her hand and stretched it out, glad to see there was no serious damage done. Then she dropped down to one knee in front of Obi-Wan and beamed up at him. “See? I told you to trust me.”

“I did, Master. I knew you would win.” Obi-Wan’s eyes shone with such radiant joy and relief that Ahsoka couldn’t resist and she pulled him in for a good, long hug. He happily submitted to her, his arms wrapped tight around her shoulders as Masters Yoda and Windu walked over to quietly speak with Qui-Gon, who was watching the two with a mixture of suspicion and a touch of regret.

“So… do you still want to be my Padawan?” Ahsoka teased, reaching out to ruffle Obi-Wan’s thick hair. “Or have you changed your mind?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, his eyes bright. “Never. Can we go to the Council now?”

Ahsoka chuckled at that, nodding. “Yes. I think we can go to the Council now.”

“Good!” He took a step back, thrilled, as Ahsoka stood up. She held out her hand, called her other saber to her, and returned both to her belt as she asked Obi-Wan to bring her cloak and Qui-Gon’s from the benches.

The Force exploded with spines but a single arch of her brow immediately quelled Obi-Wan’s churlish reaction and he nodded silently as he trotted back to them. Ahsoka knew she may have won the battle with Qui-Gon and claimed Obi-Wan as her Padawan but that didn’t give her or Obi-Wan the right to gloat about it or to rub it the Jedi Master’s face.

Yes, Qui-Gon had behaved abominably towards Obi-Wan and yes, he had continued that trend in the lead-up to the duel, but he had yielded and it wouldn’t do to rub his nose in his loss. They couldn’t afford to make an enemy of Qui-Gon Jinn, especially when their only friends seemed to consist of Masters Windu, Yoda and Padawan Quinlan Vos.

Ahsoka had no way of knowing how much she had changed the course of the future and it made sense to proceed forward with an abundance of caution. She just hoped she would be able to live up to the examples set by Masters Obi-Wan and Plo Koon if not Anakin.

Obi-Wan shuffled back over to Ahsoka’s side, nearly drowning in heavy robes. “These weigh as much as a gundark.”

“And how would you know what a gundark weighs?” Ahsoka teased, taking her robe from Obi-Wan and pulling it on, although she did agree that the robe was perhaps heavier than she would have liked. “Thank you, Padawan Kenobi. Now let’s make our goodbyes and then we will go to the Council.”

Obi-Wan visibly brightened at being called “Padawan” and he grinned up at Ahsoka. As much as he wanted to drop Qui-Gon’s robes on the floor and march out of the training room with Master Ahsoka at his side, he had to grudgingly admit that she was right.

And hearing Ahsoka call him “Padawan”? That made it all worthwhile.

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anonymous asked:

Angst is my daily bread! So, what if the older chocobros meet their s/o after the decade of darkness,and they are in an arranged marriage but they still love them? This results in an affair, but after some time the husband calmly confront the guys, saying s/o is pregnant and he surely isn't the father, but he will recognize it as his own, he has no intention to let them in the kid's life. " It may not be my blood, but it will be mine, my child, my heir. I will love him but i don't want you close

Hey Anon- finally here to provide you with the angst fest you desire! I don’t know why, but these detailed requests are making me turn these should-be-scenarios into a series of short reader insert drabbles! Hopefully there’s some novelty between each scenario- I felt like I repeated myself a little LMAO! Anyways- get ready for the feels AND TRIGGER WARNING: minor mentions of abuse! :O Oh and… no happy endings here :/ Once again, Noct’s is the shortest and Iggy’s is the longest… maybe I should change the order in which I write these so that Noct goes last… HMMMMM!


Noctis: You stand before your lover and your husband, grasping at the edge of your t-shirt and pulling it over the barely noticeable bump beginning to form in your abdominal region. Your husband shoots you an impassive look and turns his gaze directly into Noctis’ midnight blue eyes. Your husband does not falter as he takes a single step towards the prince- no, king- of Lucis.

“I would have thought you were brought up to be morally sound- but it seems my assumptions were incorrect,” you wince at the biting tone your husband has chosen to adopt in front of Noctis. You notice Noctis clenching his fists at his sides, but his gaze is cool and unwavering on your husband. You pull your shirt down lower, immense guilt clouding your conscience.

“Like you’re any better- forcing y/n into a marriage she doesn’t want.” Noctis replies back coolly. Your husband turns his head slightly to regard you with a curious gaze before shrugging and locking eyes with your king, your lover, once more.

“And where were you to object when our union was had?” your husband drawls. Noctis opens his mouth, but he cannot come up with any answers for the simple question that had just been directed at him. You shake your head and place your hand on your husband’s bicep to interject, only to be shrugged off.

You hate the fact that Noctis doesn’t bat an eyelid at the rough treatment your husband is giving you. You hate the fact that your husband’s question hits you somewhere deep inside- and you want to know the answer too. Where had Noctis been when you needed him most? He had disappeared without a word, and suddenly, he was back. He brought the light back, and came back to Hammerhead HQ all bloodied up, looking a right mess. But the way he looked at you, with so much tenderness in his eyes as you did your best to patch him up, you couldn’t deny him any request.

He said he wanted to get to know you all over again.

You let him.

And then all societal notions of propriety were thrown right out the window- leading you to this inevitable confrontation in Noctis’ throne room with your husband.

Your splay your hand over your swelling abdomen and you want so desperately to be Noctis’. You want this baby to be with their father. You want to have a family with the man you’ve loved unconditionally throughout the years, despite his absence.

“I want you to forget y/n. Though this baby is not mine in blood, it will be mine in relation. King or not, saviour or not- you have touched what is not yours to touch,” your husband’s voice is laced with diplomacy, but you can hear his aggressive undertones. You find yourself shaking your head.

“No…” you gasp out, and Noctis immediately regards you with sorrow-filled eyes. You don’t like that look.

“He’s right,” your king’s voice pierces through your chest and straight into your heart. You shoot him a hurt look and step forward imploringly. Noctis stops you with a silently raised hand before you can touch him. “He was there for you when I couldn’t be, and he took care of you. When I came back, after all those years, I wasn’t thinking straight. He’s right- you’re not mine to have-”

“I’m not a thing! I am a human being- don’t I get a say in any of this? I want you Noctis, not him!” you cry out loudly. “I want you to be the father of my child- both in blood and name!”

Noctis turns his head towards your husband, who is now glaring daggers at you. You hear your lover sigh, and then completely break at the last words he has to offer you before he turns his back and dismisses you and your husband.

“What you want… it can’t be done. I’m sorry- but this is how it has to be. Good bye, y/n.”


Prompto: “You’ve been fucking my wife.” It’s not a question- it’s a statement. Your gaze flitters between your husband and the love of your life- Prompto Argentum. You are of noble blood, and despite your protests, you had been married off to a nobleman your age shortly after the darkness had consumed all of Eos.

During that time, Prompto had been absent from your life. He opted to take hunts and volunteer for search and rescue missions in order to become a better warrior for when Noctis finally showed his face again. You still feel bitter about this whole thing, and can’t help but blame Noctis’ disappearance for Prompto’s lacking attention.

“Buddy… I don’t know what you’re-” you hear Prompto start to reply to your husband’s crass accusation, only to be silenced by the taller man. Your husband grabs your wrist and pulls you forward so that you are standing between the two men. You lock eyes with Prompto and bite your lip out of nervousness. He didn’t know yet…

He didn’t know you were carrying his baby.

Shortly after Noctis had brought back the Light, Prompto had asked you out on a ‘friendly’ date. The whole ordeal had felt so familiar to you, and brought back so many fond memories, that you couldn’t help but get lost in Prompto’s arms that evening. Your husband had been away at a political meet and greet at Noctis’ make-shift council in Lestallum, which left you and Prompto free to re-acquaint yourselves with one another- just like when you were young- inside a free rental caravan.

“I’m not your buddy. And don’t play dumb- she’s pregnant and I sure as hell know I wasn’t the one to put a bun in her filthy oven,” you recoil at how angry you husband sounds. He’s always been this way- controlling, demeaning and an absolute ass hole. But your parents didn’t see that- all they saw was a budding politician who would eventually rise to fame and hold power in society.

They made you their link to that potential power- you absolutely loathed it.

Prompto casts you a confused glance, and your hand immediately settles over your still-flat stomach. You’re not showing yet, but your morning sickness for the past week tipped your husband off. You’d been hit when he initially found out and realised that he couldn’t possibly be the father, but you barely felt the blow.

You were elated. This was the open door that you needed to get out of your marriage. If only Prompto could see that and take the bait…

“Fine,” Prompto relents, his shoulders drooping. His voice sounds haggard as he regards your husband with his clear blue eyes. You can’t help but lock your own gaze onto his freckled cheeks. You adore his freckles- no… you adore the entirety of Prompto Argentum. “But she comes to me because you don’t give her the love she deserves.”

“And because I love him,” you add in, smiling softly in Prompto’s direction. He returns the smile, and reaches out to grab your hand in a supportive gesture. You take his hand, in front of your husband, and then look defiantly into his eyes. Your husband scoffs and you suddenly find yourself being wrenched forward and painfully pushed into his chest.

“You two think you’re in some kind of flashy romance novel where you can get your way?” your husband growls, sending unpleasant shivers down your spine. Prompto steps forward in protest, but stops immediately when he hears your pained whine from how tightly your husband is squeezing you. “That’s not how this is going to work. No… Prompto, this kid’s going to be mine. And this woman in my arms- also mine. And you… filthy Niff… you’ll be left with nothing. Just you watch.” You can’t help but shriek as your arm is almost yanked out of its socket from the harsh tug your husband subjects your arm to.

You yell out for Prompto, and turn your head to implore him to come after you- to save you…

But when you see him standing stock still in the distance, a small sad smile on his face and tears running down from his clear blue eyes, you know you’re beyond saving.

The light may have been back, but you lost sight of your sunshine forever.


Gladio: You’re hanging up your laundry on a nice sunny day when Iris bolts into your home, unannounced, with a panicked look on her pretty face. “Y/n! It’s Gladdy and your husband! They’re out in front of the bar fighting! I tried to stop them but, they just shoved me away and started punching each other!” Iris’ panicked tone breaks into a light sob as she tries her best to regain her breath from running so hard.

Almost immediately, you drop your laundry basket, and grab Iris’ wrist as you make your way towards the bar you and Gladio used to frequent back when things were… much simpler without your wedding band weighing heavy on your ring finger. Ten years ago, before the darkness set in, you were set to be married to the man who was currently your husband. He was kind, sweet, and very attentive to your needs and wants. He was pretty much what you would have deemed perfect- but then you met Gladiolus Amicitia and before you knew it, he had wormed his way into your heart.

Sure, your husband was a complete sweetheart, but Gladio was your saviour. He brought colour to your world. He made you FEEL things you could never hope to feel with your husband. Sometimes you were ashamed of yourself for letting your heart get so carried away in the game of push-and-pull you and Gladio had started to play so long ago. But still, you continue to enjoy the thrill of the stolen moments shared between yourself and Gladio. The moments of passion in hidden corners, away from prying eyes and ears… you were- no, you are in love with Gladiolus Amicitia.

But you’re married. And you have a feeling that the sudden news of your pregnancy that you’d sprung on your husband two days ago might have something to do with the brawl between the two men in your life.

You and Iris are soon bearing witness to the brawl in person, and you can’t help but step forward and call out to Gladiolus. He turns to you, his lip bloodied and his fist covered in blood that was not his. Your eyes trail from Gladiolus’ stiff form to the slumped form of your husband, and you can’t help but gasp at the terrible sight. Blood is gushing from your husband’s nose, but he’s smirking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes.

You’ve never seen your husband look so… cold before.

“I’ll say it again, Amicitia: that baby is mine. Forget about y/n. Forget about being with her. You can punch the shit out of me right now, but at the end of the day- she’s married to me. She’s my wife.” Iris gasps beside you and you can’t bring yourself to look at her. Instead, you take another step towards Gladio and your husband, and place your hand gently upon Gladio’s bloodied fist.

This needed to stop. You knew it well enough. You were just reluctant to let go of the very little excitement you had in your boring life. You glance into Gladio’s softening amber eyes and you notice the sadness seep into them as he registers the look of resignation in your own orbs.

“Let him go, Gladio. He doesn’t deserve this. You know this very well.” Gladio withdraws his fist from your gasp quickly, as if you’ve shocked him with a strong thunder spell. He offers you a simple sad smile before raising his hands in surrender. You hear Iris’ empathetic whimper for her brother’s heartbreak from behind you.

“Alright. Whatever you want. Your wish is my command.” You have to stop yourself from shedding tears as you turn to tend to your injured husband.

You keep trying to tell yourself you did the right thing, later that night, when your husband’s got his arms around your midriff in bed. You keep trying to tell yourself that you made a mistake with Gladio. A beautiful mistake, but a mistake none the less.

So then, why don’t the tears top falling? Why does your chest ache at the thought of Gladio’s sad, resigned smile?

Because… because you finally realise, in the still of the night with your husband’s arm draped around your slightly bulging abdomen, that you married the wrong man.

And that man was going to be Gladio’s child’s father.

Oh, life was terribly cruel.


Ignis: “Don’t you dare!” you snap at your husband, who merely shrugs your grip off his shoulder in the farmer’s market and proceeds to roughly pull Ignis around so that the royal advisor was now facing the two of you. The shock of being handled so roughly, and so unexpectedly at that, was clear upon Ignis’ face. Still, he quickly composed himself by means of clearing his throat before addressing his assailant.

“Yes? Was that y/n’s voice I heard?” Ignis asks, his aristocratic lilt clearly getting on your husband’s nerves. You try to grab your husband and pull him away, feeling many eyes on the three of you and the public debacle you were causing. You were fended off, rather gently this time, before your husband began to speak.

“You’d be familiar with her sweet voice, wouldn’t you Scientia?” you frown at your husband’s mocking tone. Ignis’ eyebrows rise slightly at the sound of your husband’s voice, but he quickly schools his features and places a hand on his hips.

“Quite. What is this about? Should we move this discussion to a more private location? I assume we’re drawing quite the crowd with our bickering.” Ignis states diplomatically, though you can see the way his shoulders tense ever so slightly, and the way his eyebrows pinch together in the centre of his forehead. Your husband nods his assent, and it’s up to you to vocally indicate his agreement.

“Yeah, I’ll lead you to the alley over there…” you trail off, grabbing Ignis’ forearm gently and pushing him in the correct direction. You hear your husband scoff behind you.

“Funny how’s he’s utterly useless at navigating the streets, but he’s so fucking adept at finding his way in the sheets.” You feel Ignis’ sinewy muscles in his forearm tense, but he remains silent. So you just squeeze his arm discreetly and continue leading him. Once the three of you achieve some semblance of privacy, your husband immediately shoves you away from your lover.

You let out a soft grunt at the impact, more out of shock than any sort of pain, and shoot him a glare. Ignis frowns at the sound.

“That is no way to treat a lady,” Ignis deadpans. His tone is flat and that is when you realise he’s not as calm as he seems on the outside. Your husband rolls his eyes, but obviously, Ignis can’t see that.

“Like you know any better- fucking a married woman!”

“It was entirely consensual, I assure you.” Ignis bit back, finally losing his patience. Your eyes water as you witness the argument unfold. You wrap your arms around your midriff, where the tiny person you and Ignis created as a result of your selfish nights of passion is developing. “I didn’t force y/n into anything she didn’t want.”

You nod your head in agreement before turning an insistent glare to your husband.

“Leave him alone! He doesn’t have to know- not like this!” you cry out, tugging on your husband’s arm. He frowns and shakes his head before turning to Ignis, blatantly ignoring your pleas.

“She’s pregnant. The DNA test revealed that the baby’s not mine. Y/n came clean about your affair this afternoon and, man, I was pissed off at first. But now… I just feel sorry for the kid.” Your mouth drops open in confusion at your husband’s words. What did he mean? Your gaze trails towards Ignis’ face, and you can see his confusion as clear as day on his handsome, scarred face.

“What are you on about?” you ask softly, your voice almost a whisper.

Your husband laughs derisively and gestures at Ignis’ sealed eye with a smirk.

“The kid’s father is an invalid. What’s Scientia gonna be able to do for the baby? He couldn’t even walk himself here!” Your heart hurts as you watch Ignis’ shoulders slump at the cruel truth behind your husband’s words. You open your mouth to defend Ignis, but Ignis starts to speak.

“What would you propose then?” Ignis asks, his accented voice strangely soft. You’ve never heard him sound so… hurt before. Your heart hurt even more for your lover.

Your husband shrugs and casts a sidelong glance at you before his lips break into a wry smile.

“Leave Lestallum. Never come back. Don’t ever seek y/n out again and forget that you have a child existing in this world. That baby is mine, you understand?” your husband steps forward and points a finger into Ignis’ chest. The impact isn’t hard, but it beats down his point. You gasp and shake your head, tears filling your eyes as you silently protest your husband’s conditions.

Ignis sighs, and to your horror, he nods curtly.

“Very well then. I shall take my leave. All the best to you both. I have cherished my time with you, y/n. But as fate has it, it seems our time together has come to an end.” Ignis smiles sadly, and you feel a few tears slip from your eyes. You shake your head again and whimper.

“Iggy… no! Please, I need you.” Ignis smirks at your words.

“You have the gall to say those words in front of your husband? You’ve always been a brave one. That’s why I fell in love with you.”

You let out a sob as Ignis pushes past you, before carefully making his way back out towards the markets. You stare on until Ignis’ figure has blended in with the rest of the crowd.

You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, and a pair of familiar yet unwanted lips pecking your cheek- clearly asking for silent forgiveness.

You lean into the touch feeling empty- what choice did you have now?

Now that your whole world seemed to have imploded and left you with nothing but a fond memory of colourful days…

march 30th

Jaebum | 1449 words | angst
Jaebum is stuck in a time loop on the day of their two year anniversary.

loosely inspired by jyj’s “in heaven

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Good Grief - Chapter One

Jungkook makes a habit of showing up drunk to a nearby flower shop. Bad puns and fluffy pining ensue.

Or, a college!au in which BTS are all frat boys, Namjoon is a science club president,Jimin just wants a good party, and Jungkook is hopelessly fascinated by the girl who takes care of flowers in her free time.

author’s note:  hiiiiiii!! so this is my first ever fanfiction, and to be completely honest- it’s a long ride. so strap in, and get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions. Also there is a soundtrack/playlist for this fic! If you enjoy listening and reading (or, if you just want to have a g list of songs) you can find it here !

disclaimer:
All mentions of the university in this fic are purely pulled from my ass— I don’t claim to know anything on a deep, spiritual level about university clubs, classes or frat parties. Side characters, that aren’t specifically Bangtan Members™, are all made up and therefor fictional .

If you’d prefer reading on AO3 the link is here

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so it’s no news that an infuriated debate is surrounding iron fist. i’m not gonna get into that here. i will, however, offer my pov on what makes it a better show than we’ve been reading in the past ten days or so. contains spoilers:

  • it’s a feel good show with a light-heartedness to it. daredevil, jessica jones and luke cage were pretty dark and socially/politically charged on a level, iron fist really isn’t asking to point you the way to anything. danny is extremely traumatized but the writing won’t allow it to weigh on your shoulders thanks to the innocence that’s also inherent to the character and often paints him as a most unlikely hero. you might feel for him (if you have a heart, i guess) but once you’ve closed your netflix tab you’ll probably just be as hopeful as he is or forget about his problems altogether. i’m not sure i’d have watched daredevil with my younger brother, but i’d surely watch this one with him.
  • danny rand’s story is one of loss, trauma and even rejection that i’m sure can resonate with many people even though they never punched a dragon. anyone danny’s age (or even not) can definitely feel like they don’t belong, and maybe i’m overreading but the fact that he can’t always control his titular fist feels like an allegory of how all of us often can’t or won’t find our own energy and strengths to get ourselves out of a bad place.
  • it’s been argued that danny lacks charisma and generally the quality of a hero. it’s true, but that’s because the narrative wants him to. he’s a boy who has no idea who he is or what he’s doing, although he might sometimes think he does. his naivete is the point of the character and while he can also be problematic those aspects of him are never celebrated. i don’t know how that’s going to evolve in other seasons/shows, but season 1 danny is no hero because he’s not supposed to be. to be quite honest, if critics didn’t get that i have no idea how to help them.
  • to offer some support to what i just said: there are scenes in which characters flat out tell danny he’s “the worst iron fist ever” and a pretty underwhelming fighter (i’m using kinder words than those that were actually uttered). he’s repeatedly called out on his shit and kept at arm’s length, his ability to be the iron fist is openly questioned and no one ever restrains from pointing out he really isn’t the sharpest pencil.
  • there are five women on the show, and they pretty much to various extent carry it by moving the plot forward. take joy: she could have been the good sister to the bad brother but she helped danny regain his place in the company because it was the right thing to do and then single-handedly kept three asses in it when they were voted out. jeri showed a more human side to her character while also being a boss ass bitch against the meachums, not to mention she took way less than half of new york combined to figure out whether danny was actually whom he claimed to be or not. now, the three women of colour then deserve a bullet point each. 
  • colleen is a wonderful character. resourceful and independent, like danny she’s long been a little detached from the world (namely left in japan with her grandfather) and can feel like a fish out of water. she’s young and idealistic but also way more experienced and mature than danny, which makes them both a sweet, even touching pair and a not-so-ideal match (claire’s words, more or less). with her great fighting skills and her complexity she’s rightly considered the highlight of this show. 
  • claire is too cool for me to describe so i’ll just say she keeps being wonderful and offering a refreshing, grounded point of view to the craziness that surrounds her. sweet christmas!
  • madame gao is a force of nature. she’ll just stand (or sit) there and offer serafic words of wisdom and even when put in a corner she’ll be the most powerful person in the room. her ability to mess with people’s head by simply spilling uncomfortable truth makes her frightening because really is there an enemy more dangerous than some part of us we don’t want to face? and, well, obviously she’s one hell of a criminal mastermind. i haven’t been this terrified since fisk and she barely raised an eyebrow this whole season.
  • when finn jones said this was the most diverse show in the marvel/netflix universe many might have laughed out loud, but turns out he was right. there are episodes in the back half of the season, especially towards the end, where he is pretty much the only white character around. 
  • i’m very excited about davos. his position and motivations are understandable and i like that he’s not a villain born but he’s coming from a place of love and loyalty. this, along with the fact that he wanted and felt more deserving to be the iron fist, really makes for a compelling opponent. i’m not sure where this alliance with joy is going, but i can’t wait to find out.
Wonderwall (1/4)

[AU: We were high school rivals. Now it’s our 20 year reunion and I think you’re absurdly good looking and very charming. Shoutout to @shefollowedfires for her beta skills.]

on Ao3

Abby looked around the room, her eyes scanning the crowd of late 30 somethings gathered at tables and crowded at the bar. The last few bars of a Gin Blossoms song faded out, quickly replaced by the opening notes of Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic.” The corners of her mouth tugged up slightly.

“See?” Callie said, smiling at Abby over the rim of her wine glass. “You’re having fun already.”

She raised her eyebrow.

“This song makes me feel nostalgic. I wouldn’t exactly call that having fun.”

“C’mon, Abby,” Callie said, nudging Abby with her shoulder, “there are cheap drinks, good music and you’re in great company.” She smiled widely before she took a long sip of her drink. “Plus, this is the easiest place for you to break your streak.”

Abby sighed.

“Not this again.”

Callie set down her drink.

“Abby, you’ve been in this self-imposed celibacy for three years. It’s time. Consider this your opportunity put yourself back out there.”

Abby shook her head as she gestured to the throng of people around the room.

“How is this the place to jump back in? Everyone was basically married at the ten year reunion.”

Callie huffed in disbelief.

“Yeah, and now it’s been ten more years. I can basically guarantee you that more than half of those people are divorced.” She picked up her glass and took a drink before continuing. “Actually, I can guarantee it because I Facebook stalked everyone who rsvp’d yes to the Facebook invite.”

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