i promised you this awhile ago

I see your Frat Boy Vitya headcanons and I raise you:

Yuuri Katsuki being dragged to his first frat party after line three years at college spent just trying to blend into whatever wall is nearest. This is never going to happen and Yuuri thinks it’s because everyone is just amazed at how little of his shit he has together.

(They aren’t. “Fucking LOOK at him,” sighs many a sexually frustrated undergrad while pining loudly in Yuuri’s direction. Yuuri scuttles away with his hood closed almost completely around his face.)

Yuuri arrives at the party and immediately finds The Dog.

“There’s a dog here,” he tells Phichit, and spends the next three hours sitting on the floor with the dog.

“How are you?” he asks the dog very seriously as the dog slowly licks his shoulder. This is a Premium Dog. “Yes, good. Is my shoulder tasty? I’m so glad. I’m so glad you find my shoulder tasty. Whose dog are you?” The dog’s tags are in Cyrillic, which is really weird. Yuuri squints at the tag and finally says, “Whoever Binktop is, he has a really good dog.”

“Makkachin,” someone says eventually, and the dog gets up and goes to the interloper. 

“No, come back,” Yuuri whimpers as the dog leaves. He doesn’t go far–the guy who called him is standing on the edge of he crowd wearing Chinos and Gucci sunglasses.

They’re inside. At night.

“Are you Binktop?” Yuuri asks him blearily. People have been bringing him drinks the whole time he’s been sitting with the dog and he doesn’t know what that’s about. Probably they feel sorry for him.

(”I brought him a drink, Chad,” says a certain dejected brother of Iota Sigma Upsilon. “He took it but he looked like he was going to cry. All he said was I don’t need your pity. I don’t understand?”)

“Excuse me?” asks Binktop. There is some sort of expensive imported cider in his hand. He looks down at his dog as though he will know the answer.

Yuuri points at the dog’s tags. “Binktop. His owner.”

“Oh,” says Binktop. He bends down to show Yuuri that, on the backside of the tag he’d been looking at, the same information is listed in English. “No. Viktor.”

Yuuri frowns and squints. “You look more like a Binktop to me.” He holds out a hand for Makkachin the Dog and waits until he comes to sniff it. “You have a really good dog, Binktop. He’s a great dog.”

“You’re that figure skater, right?” Binktop asks, crouching down next to his dog. “Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Yes,” Yuuri sighs dejectedly. “That’s me.”

“Sick,” Binktop says.

“Yes, I am,” Yuuri says. “Do you have a bathroom, Binktop?”

He and Binktop spend half the night on the floor of the president of Iota Sigma Upsilon’s en-suite bathroom. Yuuri doesn’t know why Binktop chose to bring him to this bathroom, but it’s the one they’re in. Binktop doesn’t really seem interested in leaving, either. He holds Yuuri’s hair for him and listens to him talk about his family. Makkachin the Really Good Dog is there.

“It would probably be a good idea if you stayed here tonight,” Binktop says slowly after several hours of this. Yuuri stopped puking a awhile ago, thankfully. “I don’t know who you came here with, or where you live. I don’t think you do either.”

“Okay, I’m just gonna–” Yuuri climbs into the shower and curls up at the bottom. “This is good. I’m gonna sleep here, okay Binktop?”

“You could–I mean, if you want–my bed is softer.”

Yuuri glares at Binktop over his shoulder.

“No! I swear, no funny business. I’ll crash in Chris’ room. Or Micky or–someone, I promise.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

Binktop helps Yuuri get into bed and leaves a bucket next to him and makes him drink a glass of water. When he tries to take Makkachin with him, Yuuri tosses the covers back and says, “The good boy stays,” and Makkachin hops up. Binktop looks at Yuuri like he’s stolen something from him. The dog, probably.

(”I’m in love,” Viktor says to Chris later that night, swooning on Chris’ floor. “He stole my heart, right there!”)

Yuuri finds out later that Binktop is, in fact, Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor Nikiforov whose parents are major benefactors to the university. The gym where Yuuri trains is called the Nikiforov Intramural Sports Complex.

Viktor Nikiforov is the president of Iota Sigma Upsilon.

“Oh shit,” Yuuri whispers to himself.

“Do you want to go to breakfast?” Viktor Nikiforov asks him, looking a little less douchy in the light of day. Now that he’s not dressed up for a party, he’s wearing normal-person clothes, jeans and a university sweatshirt. His hair is ungelled and he looks nice and handsome. “I’ll walk you home first so you can change.”

“Okay,” Yuuri says softly.

Yuuri goes to breakfast with Viktor Nikiforov and then goes back to the Iota Sigma Upsilon house, where Viktor skillfully eats him out and announces that he intends to become Yuuri’s boyfriend.

The brothers of Iota Sigma Upsilon hoot and holler at Yuuri and Viktor’s wedding when Chris gets up with a microphone and says, “Let me tell you about how Yuuri and Viktor met! It started with a party and a dog…”


Base Sim ~ 

Hello so awhile ago I promised a base sim and here he is! He’s just named Moose for now because I’m not very creative but tada! 

uhh, yeah base sim doesn’t really have a TOU except don’t claim him as your own and, if you want, tag me. I’d love to see what you make of him. 

In any case, I hope you download and enjoy :3 

                                               // Download //

Can I Have This Dance? | Jughead Jones

Originally posted by sssssssim

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: The school dance is coming up but you’ve given up hope in getting a date.

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 2014. It’s long, I’m sorry.

A/N: This is based off a prompt and… I don’t know how I feel about it? It’s cute, though so I’m posting it. Also, the image of Jug climbing up to someone’s window is cute so I’m sorry. I HAD TO.

“Ugh, I hate these things,” you groaned, ripping down one of the posters for the school dance that was coming up next week. Truth be told, you didn’t actually hate them - you just hated not having anyone to go with. You had your friends but at the same time you’d want just for once to go with a date. Someone that genuinely liked and cared about you you. Was that so hard to ask for? For a few years you had hope that someone might ask you but over the last couple of dances you’d just given up. It hadn’t happened so it probably wasn’t going to.

“Another night at Pops for us then?” Your friend Jughead asked, pulling open his locker and glancing at you as you screwed the piece of paper up and tossed it to the floor without a care in the world. “Whoa, littering now? What a rebel.”

You shot him a glare, opening up your own locker to pull out a few books. “Shut it, Jones. Pop’s sounds good, though. Burgers on you, milkshakes on me?”

“Unless you want to be the kind best friend that I know you are and pay for everything?” He casually threw his arm around your shoulder as you walked down the hallway to your class.

“You wish, pal.”

Keep reading

Prologue [Beyond the Sunrise, LMMxReader]

Summary:  Mixed up orders leads to a new and unexpected person in your life.

Word Count: 2,159

Warnings: None (a slow burn, but are you guys really surprised?)

Authors notes:  We are SO excited to share this with you guys, this universe is something we had so much fun creating and we hope you enjoy it as much as us! ❤ 

askbox | masterlist | next chapter

The neon lights and upbeat sixties doo-wop songs were the furthest things Lin wanted in his presence that night. Still, the Salt and Pepper Diner was the only place with decent food open this late into the night.

There was the added benefit that it was always empty when he found himself in. No soul in their right mind purposefully wandered into this place at three in the morning on a school day.

Except for him, of course.

Keep reading

More than Beneficial

gif sources: x , x 

 Michael Gray x Reader 

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (coming soon)

 ~warnings: swearing and mentions of sex~

 Prompt: Michael and you are friends with benefits. 

 A/N: Someone requested Michael smut but I like to write the lead ups to them first because it makes the smut more intimate. I hope you are all okay with that. I can imagine that this fic will be maybe 3 Parts when I map it out in my head. Sorry if this one is boring. I promise part two will be a lot more exciting. I tried out doing different Point of Views(POV) because I thought it would help make more sense of the story. Please leave feedback so I can know what I should change for the next part. Did you love it? Hate it? Let me know! Also, Happy Easter to everyone!

You turned the corner on your way to The Garrison. Isaiah and Michael had taken off from the offices an hour or so before you had. You needed to finish some work. Plus, you wanted to reapply some makeup and redo your mess of hair that you threw up this morning to avoid being late.

“Come on, Y/F/N! Let’s just get out of here! You have been staring at paperwork all day. I’m surprised your eyes still function and that your brain hasn’t fried. Plus we are the last ones here.” Isaiah joked sitting on the edge of your desk. You didn’t let your eyes stray from all of the work laid in front of you. The papers on your desk still required lots of attention and seemingly so did Isaiah as he grabbed the pen out of your hand and holding it far out of your reach.

“Isaiah, I’m serious I need to finish this! Tommy’s gonna have my head if I don’t get this done!” You pleaded, pausing to change your tone. “And I’m going to have yours if you don’t give that back to me right now!” You demanded standing to try and grab it out of his hands. You bit your lower lip to keep yourself from laughing, trying desperately to look stern.

“Fine, but only because you asked nicely.” He said sarcastically, holding it in front of you and pulling it away again jokingly. You gave him a stern look, to which he gave it back to you still chuckling. A curse word came out of your mouth as you started laughing with him. You really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had made you laugh.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Request of Harry and y/n after dating for years hooking up in a car and getting caught by paps after they have sex and him getting dressed and going off on them because Y/n was nervous in the first place to do anything with him in public. Lots of daddy *dirty kind Harry and protective Harry. Long hair. Rings on. I'm trying to make this make sense. >.<


This is set in the Lemon Curd verse, but it’s pretty fungible! And it really leans on the daddy!kink with the sex in the car part of this rather than the paps part, but… I think it works? Happy reading. x

Gentle Reminder: requests are closed and new requests will be posted immediately and catalogued! 

055. Leather and Cars

“We should go out.”

Your smile stretches almost lazily over your face as Harry licks softly over your neck. Your head lolls to the side and his hand offers a cradle for it to lean against as he eagerly attaches his mouth to the new expanse of skin that he’s allowed to access.

You smell like a bakery, he’s sure of it. You can’t possibly as you haven’t worked there in ages, but he thinks the smell has managed to cling to you in a way it hasn’t to him. You smell like warm bread and hot coffee and those lemon curds that the two of you had been fond of sharing together and that he still brings home sometime for you two to indulge in when he thinks of it.

“Why?” you ask him with a fluttering breath.

“Done with your first year, aren’t yeh?” he murmurs.

“I am,” you agree. Harry’s arm is wound around your waist and you cover it with yours, digging into his skin with your fingertips.

“An’ correct me if I’m wrong, pet,” he starts. “But do you live here now?” he says of his home that is just a little more crowded with the two of you and your things that have been slowly finding their way in amongst his.

It’s been “official” for a month now, but Harry has spent the better part of that being out of your hair while you revised.

“Do I?” you ask and Harry frowns instantly before opening his mouth and biting with gentle warning. You squirm out of the hold of his jaws.

“We should go out,” he repeats.

“I don’t know that we should,” you reply.

“What?” he asks with pinching brows. “Why not?”

“Because something always happens,” you say.

“Like what?”

Keep reading

Say You Won't Let Go [Connor Murphy x Male!Reader]

Title: Say You Won’t Let Go
Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen
Pairing: Connor Murphy x Male!Reader
Requested: by like three people lmao
Summary: Connor takes you home for thanksgiving–the hitch is that Connor is still sort of closeted. He’s not going to let that kind of them stop him from loving you.
Warnings: Connor’s potty mouth | Mentions of homophobia | Mentions of neglect and abuse | First person reader | not proof read
A/N: last upload before I leave on my trip! Yay! It’s crazy late here. This is a combo of a few request: three people requested a male reader, one person requested Connor sort of “adopting” a male reader who gets neglected and abused at home and taking care of them, and someone else requested Connor and a male reader go home for thanksgiving with lots of angst, and we all know I love angst. Hope this is good! Love you all and thanks for 800+ followers! (I’m going immediately to bed after this hoo)



“Connor,” I called again. He brushed his fingers across my knuckles again, dangling between us on the leather carseat. He was staring ahead, so it was concerning to see him so absent. While driving.


“The light’s green,” I told him in a weak voice, watching his dark eyebrows furrowed blankly before fumbling, hands grasping for the wheel and slamming on the break. His dark hair was a curtain between us, eclipsing most of his face from my view.

“Sorry,” he mumbled heatedly under his breath, his hands tapping at the wheel anxiously. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

I folded my hands in my lap, careful to stay calm. Connor’s paranoia could be contagious sometimes, and his anxiety was filling the car with fumes I didn’t have the capacity to escape.

“I’m scared too, Connor,” I mumbled softly, watching his white knuckled grip clench and unclench on the steering wheel, licking his lips before glancing surprisingly out of the corner of his eyes at me.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, voice hoarse, chancing to take his hand of the steering wheel to reach for me. His painted nails raked harshly against the fabric of my jeans, up and down my thigh in an attempt to soothe me–and, in a way, it helped because it distracted him from his inner monologue. “I’m not scared. If they,” he paused, taking in a heavy sigh and letting his eyebrows drop low over his eyes. “If they say anything, we’ll get up and go. Get a hotel for the next few days and then go back to school, alright?”

“Going home is making you nervous,” I said neutrally. “This was a mistake.”

Connor’s hand wrapped vice like around my knee, shaking it a little too roughly. “This is not a mistake. I’m not letting you go home to your shitty parents, alright? Besides,” he grumbled. “This is a decent test for my parents, too. If they’re asswipes, we go immediately.”


My stomach twisted nervously as the main streets and shops gave way to country field and subdivisions, little white picket fences with dogs and rosebushes  I hadn’t grown up in a neighborhood quite like this, and yet it amazed me–suburbia, for all its obvious perks, could still contain dark secrets.

Connor, subject A.

He hadn’t been home in awhile–he and I had spent the summer together working on campus, sharing a dorm. I knew he was civil with his folks and all, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t positively green as we pulled into a perfectly cemented driveway, three nice cars already parked in an open garage. Connor shifted the car into park, turning off the engine, but instead of exiting let his eyes close and leaned against the steering wheel for just a moment.

It was hard–I could see how hard it was. How uncomfortable he felt.

I wasn’t sure if I’d made it better or worse.

I wasn’t sure how he’d worded it to his mother on the phone when he’d asked if I could join the party for thanksgiving–I knew he’d told her I wasn’t in the best standing with my parents. I wasn’t sure if he’d asked if he could bring “a friend” over or “someone I’m seeing”.

He hadn’t said boyfriend. They didn’t know. He wasn’t out.

It was maybe four yards to the door–just a few steps, less than sixty seconds, and everything in Connor Murphy’s family dynamic would change.

Watching Connor swallow, forehead pressed into his hands where he was folded in on himself in the driver’s seat, was almost heartbreaking. I didn’t know if I made it worse or better. I didn’t even know how he felt.

I hadn’t been home since I graduated.

I reached out, scratching lovingly against Connor’s back through the fabric of his hoodie, feeling his shoulders relax beneath my hands.

“I guess this is me fucking up again,” he laughed mirthlessly. “Christ, they’re gonna have a field day.”

“You can take me somewhere else,” I offered, my voice thick at the suggestion, praying he wouldn’t really do that, but understanding if it was what he needed. “You don’t have to come out–”

Connor sprung off the steering wheel, spinning, eyes wide, pink lips partially parted, his bony hands twitching I’m his lap.

“You,” he choked, seeming to be at a loss for words. “I didn’t mean–you aren’t the mistake, sweetheart.” He reached forward, lithe fingers cradling across the back of my neck, his thumb tracing my jaw. “You–fuck, I love you.”

Connor’s slate eyes were searching, and I saw all the manic fear in them before they shut so that he could surge across the car, sealing his soft lips to mine.

It was almost comedic when he got like this–desperate, hungry, and nothing lustful about it. Connor was so uniquely physical and so poor with his words, this was the only way he knew to communicate that he loved me.

And I loved it. And I loved him.

There were a few knees to my ribs as he climbed across the median, fumbling to get into my lap, his little lithe body folding perfectly against mine, his hands still knotting into my hair.

“Connor–” I tried to protest with a laugh, surprised when he simply swallowed the words and continued.

“I love you,” he hissed again, wrapping both his arms around my neck, leaning back to glare determined at my collar bone. “I love you, please–”

“I love you,” I assured, pulling him back to press his face into his neck. “I love you, sweetheart, but you have to calm down. You aren’t gonna be able to articulate to your parents if you’re this panicked. I can’t do it for you.”

“Fuck,” he cried, voice thick, pressing my face closer to the juncture of his neck. His hair was down today, kissing my temple. “I lied. I’m fucking terrified.”

“It’s okay,” I promised, scratching at his lower back soothingly. “I’m right here.”


We didn’t bother to bring in our bags, not when there might be a chance that we might have to haul them back out in a quick fit, Connor swearing during it all.

He couldn’t stop fidgeting–it had been awhile since I’d seen him like this. Yes, the Connor I had met nearly a year ago had been stoic, pensive, and reclusive–but he’d also had an air of newly acquired calm and confidence that had been difficult to resist. He had smiles that seemed like they costed him, but only after he gave them, and he, more often than not, gave them without thinking twice.

Recovering, he told me, he was recovering. It was more than enough.

He kept scratching behind is ear, frizzing the fawn tone hair there so that the curls ticked upward just a little higher than the rest, his mouth twitching as he clenched and unclenched his jaw in a way that would make for robotic kissing later. The way his hands shook, I was surprised he didn’t stick them in his pockets–he wiped them on his jeans enthusiastically, stepping into the foyer as his mother answered the door.

The Murphy’s looked as perfect as the photos on Facebook had portrayed–I knew it was for my benefit. Cynthia Murphy was loud, and it was done in a way that her own face cringed with the overdone politeness of it all. She grinned at me so that the apples of her cheeks looked high crested like Connor’s when he smiled without thinking, his eyes crinkling at the corners, making his hollowed cheeks dimple. Her eyes were vaguely panicked, and I looked away, giving her the time to process what was clearly a misread signal from Connor.

Larry Murphy shook my hand, much too roughly, making it obvious where Connor had acquired it, and smiled like I was the campaign aid to his greasy politician. It made me nervous, unsettled, and I watched Larry Murphy stuff his large hands into the pockets of his slacks.

Zoe Murphy was lazing artistically against the leather couch in the living room, only slightly visible from the foyer. At her parent’s call, she didn’t move, but offered us a wave without looking up from the television. So Connor hadn’t been lying about their strained relationship.

“It’s so good to meet you! Connor got us all excited over the phone,” Cynthia crooned, patting her husband on the shoulder, her eyes still panicked behind her painfully wide smile. Her lips cracked in the same way Connor’s did.  “Worried for nothing, I see. It’s always good to meet Connor’s friends.”

I smiled, my face pained.

He could lie. Right now. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and I knew he was thinking about it. Smile, pretend, I really got you guys this time! Slap me on the back, call me bro, smile and nod when his father asked about the cute girls on campus. He could cut me down right here, and he knew it.

Connor was smiling politely, his hands still twitching at his sides. He was painfully close to me, too close for them not to notice, our shoulders brushing. They were taking it in with darting eyes and slim pupils, eyes cutting between us, begging for an explanation.

“What do you mean?” Connor asked in a strained voice, obviously attempting to be civil. The smile on his face, while trying, was a fraud.

Cynthia had begun to wring her hands, licking her lips as if attempting to come up with something in a way that wouldn’t offend me. She laughed too loudly.

“You just, you said over the phone you were bringing home someone you wanted us to meet,” she smiled apologetically in my direction. Behind the two of them, Zoe Murphy had rolled into a sitting position, her auburn eyebrow arched, her lipglossed mouth in a froze oh.

“Yeah,” Connor said slowly, eyes glancing from me back to them in a can you believe this? sort of way, clearly more for their benefit than mine. He wanted them to say it for him, but the wouldn’t. They weren’t the kind of people who were going to wish for this or be thrilled Connor was finally himself.

He was trying to come out, and they were pressed so tightly against the closet door, Connor was going to need a fucking cannon to get himself out.

Larry made a noise in the back of his throat, impatient, disguising it with an exasperated laugh. I watched Connor tense, his shoulders locking and his mouth falling open. Scared.

“She just means,” Larry laughed awkwardly, making an aggressive eye contact with me in an attempt to demean Connor, “We thought Connor meant a girl. We thought he might be getting serious with someone.”


To his credit, Connor didn’t explode. He didn’t scream. He did it slowly, softly, without words, the same way the Connor I knew everything about and the Murphy’s had never met did everything.

He just smiled–not forced, but serene and genuine, and glanced down to where his pale hand, freckled across the knuckles was bumping against mine, and laced out hands together.  I wasn’t looking at the Murphy’s, but I could hear their sharp intake of breath over the rapid pounding of my heart.

Connor was smiling at me, the apples of his cheeks eclipsing his eyes that were watering with the uncertainty of the moment.

And I was so proud.

He chose me.

He chose himself.

“I am,” Connor said, his voice certain from where he smiled at me in awe and adoration. “Serious about someone. This is my boyfriend.”


“It could’ve gone worse.”

Connor, laying facedown on his twin bed could’ve been slightly endearing, slightly adorable, if it hadn’t been for the face he was screaming into his pillow.

“It could’ve gone a lot fucking better!” He screamed, leaning up to scratch at his face with his black chipped nails–a bad habit that had me lunging forward to take his wrists, replacing his hands onto my hips and sitting beside him, letting him fall face first into my chest with a humph.

“They didn’t make us leave,” I reminded softly, combing a hand through his soft hair and kissing his temple. Connor just groaned against my chest.

“My dad passed out,” Connor hissed against my chest. “Fucking went unconscious. Because I’m gay.”

“Again, not the worst reaction.”

“Oh my God, dude, please let me be negative!” Connor grunted, pulling back, stuffing his hands into his hair, causing me to reach up again to remove them.

“Stop that,” I mumbled. “Keep those on me.”

He frowned, but still reached forward tenderly to cup the back of my neck, eyes searching for something in my face. Leaning forward till he blurred, close enough to kiss, he pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth, tilting his forehead to rest against mine with closed eyes.

“I worship you,” he whispered, sending a violent chill down my spine, my own hands reaching up to tangled in the fabric of his hoodie. “I’d do that again and again to be with you.”

“Con,” I whispered, pouting my lips to beg for a kiss, sighing happily when he obliged me, nudging me backwards gingerly against his mattress which was struggling to hold two grown men.

He was tender, loving as he pressed chaste kisses again and again to my lips, before sighing and laying his head against my chest, reaching up to run his thumb absently across my jaw.

“Your sister seemed supportive.”

“What part of ‘Holy shit, no way!’ seemed supportive to you?”

“She was smiling?”


“I’m sorry,” I conceded, reaching up to again card my fingers through his hair. “It’s just…they didn’t throw you out, Con. They didn’t call us names. They didn’t burn your things. That’s a luxury I didn’t have when I came out to my folks.”

He sighed, pressing his nose against my chest again, kissing over the fabric of my shirt with a pained expression. “I know, baby, and I’m so sorry. Just–I’m taking care of you from now on, alright? You don’t have to worry about that stupid shit anymore.”

“I know sweetheart,” I sighed, leaning down to kiss him again, knotting my hands into his long hair and going deeper, feeling Connor’s long legs give way to straddle me, his own hands framing my face to keep me firmly in place.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against my lips, before diving back in with fervor, licking up into my mouth, pulling a small laugh from the both of us.

“Con–” I warned.

“I know,” he groaned, pressing his face into the side of my neck and stretching my shirt collar to reveal a stripe of skin, beginning to suck a vicious hickey there, earning a surprised yelp from me.

“Connor, you can’t–”

“Knock, knock!”

We sprang apart, both of us scrubbing at our faces, attempting to control our breathing. Connor stared wordlessly at the still closed door for a long time, before his mother called his name again and it dawned on him that she was asking permission to enter his room.

“Come in.”

Cynthia smiled apologetically upon entering, balancing a tray in her hands and sitting it on Connor’s desk, still covered in papers, before seating herself in the desk chair. Connor shifted, obviously uncomfortable.

“We haven’t touched your room,” she said softly, smiling a bit differently than she had downstairs. “Left it just the way you liked it.”

“Thanks,” he said softly, picking at the duvet with his fingernails, before thinking better of it and reaching out to take my hand again. Solidarity.

Cynthia Murphy smiled.

“I brought you cookies–Connor doesn’t like pie, I’m not sure if he told you,” she said to me with a grin, extending a plate I took warily, thanking her warmly as I could. “I know a lot of people eat pie on Thanksgiving, but I’m honestly not even very good at making it–”

“Mom,” Connor called desperately, looking at her with wild eyes. Scared.

“Your dad is just fine,” she promised, still smiling at him like he was the most important thing in the world. Connor’s expression told me he’d never seen it before. “And he’s gonna come around. He just needs a minute, is all.”

Connor nodded, admitting it was reasonable, even if he didn’t like it. “You?”

She smiled, and for the first time I noticed her eyes were wet. “You’ve found somebody, sweetheart. That’s the most important thing. Look how much you’ve grown–I’m so proud of you, Connor.”

I let them hug. I let them cry. I let Cynthia hug me, thank me, take my face in her hands and promise me that I had a home here as long as I loved her son.

It was a lot. It was so much.

And when it was over, it was Connor and I wrapped around each other in his twin bed, our faces desperately close and whispering softly to each other.

“I think my mom wants me to propose.”

“You sure your dad’s heart can take it?”

“Haha, Prince Charming, you’re hilarious.”

A beat of silence, so long that I thought he’d fallen asleep, before I felt his lips linger at my temple. “Thanks for loving me.”

I tightened my grip on his sides, kissing his collar bone lightly. “Always, sweetheart.”

karendavidofficial I’m deeply saddened to hear that this sweet, and beautiful lady, Georgina, who I had the pleasure of meeting and talking to for awhile, only a couple of weeks ago at #SBUK3 was one of the innocent victims in tonight’s atrocity in Manchester. It’s not fair, it’s not right. It makes me so angry and it breaks my heart that such a young and promising life has been stolen away! But I refuse to give in to hatred. I continue to choose love. I continue to choose unity because when we join together, we are strong! We will not be afraid. Dearest Georgina, may your kind soul rest in peace. Heaven has gained an angel…My thoughts and prayers are with you, your family, and your friends. 🙏🏽😔💙 (x)

Stupid in Love

Summary: Sometimes Dean can get controlling, and that just doesn’t go over well. Luckily, he’s willing to make it up to you.
Warnings: Fighting
A.N. - Hey guys! Been awhile I know, this is for @luci-in-trenchcoats. I’m so sorry this took so long to post. This is number 23. I do my best to make things right, whatever that may be. Hope you all enjoy!
———————————————You had no right!“ I screamed at the man in front of me, his eyes rolling.
"It was too dangerous! I didn’t want you to get hurt!”
“This is our job Dean! We hunt! It’s dangerous! That doesn’t give you the right to lock me in the bunker for three days.” Now I promise you, I’m not being overemotional. Four days ago, Sam had found a demon hunt in Colorado. After I’d gone to pack, Dean followed to express his displeasure at my hunting. That eventually escalated into a screaming match that ended with him storming out, and when I attempted to follow, only managed to hit a barrier at the rooms exit. I saw Cas standing there, extremely uncomfortable and Dean with a too smug smirk on those plump lips. He’d used Cas to keep me trapped in our room, and three hours later, simply confined to the bunker itself. When he returned, he found I’d moved out of our shared room, and now here we are, standing in my old bedroom screaming at each other once again.
“I was trying to keep you safe!”
“That’s not your decision to make!” I rolled my eyes at his attempts.
“Yes it is!” He roared “You’re mine! I’m not going to let you make decisions that get you hurt!” My eyes widened in shock at that, and I scoffed before glaring at him.
“I’m not ‘yours.’ We’re in a relationship. I don’t belong to you, and you don’t 'let’ me do anything. Now get out.” He seemed surprised at that, staring at me with wide eyes.
“Babe come on you know what I -”
“I don’t care” I interrupted. “Get out” He sighed, rubbing over his scalp as he walked to the door, closing it gently behind him. I sat down on the bed, the cold sheets being no comfort. My hands were still shaking with anger, my heart still pounding. For awhile I simply focused on calming down, then grabbed a book from my shelf to attempt to get my mind off of things. Dean and I had been fighting a lot, and it was by far my least favorite thing to do. For hours I lost myself in my book, but soon, I heard music wafting down the corridor, soft jazz reaching my ears. I sighed, standing to go tell Sam to turn it down, but saw a trail of rose petals outside the door instead. I frowned, walking down the corridor towards the library, gasping at what I found there. Dean had set up a library table with candles and roses, the lighting dim and some jazz music wafting from the record player. I laughed a little at the pizza boxes from my favorite pizza parlor on the table, a box of brownies from my favorite bakery sitting next to it.
“What’s all this?” I asked, seeing Dean smile sheepishly at me as he walked closer.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry. What I said was wrong. I don’t control you, and you don’t belong to me, but I love you. And I always want to protect you.” I sighed, reaching up to cup his cheek, laying a soft kiss to his lips.
“You can’t keep doing that. This is my job, my life, as well as yours.” He nodded, moving to hug me to his body, pressing his lips to my head.
“I know. I’m sorry.” I smiled into the crook of his neck, pressing a kiss to his skin, feeling him shudder underneath me. I looked past him and too the romantic setting behind him.
“I know. You know, you didn’t need to do all this.” He shrugged, moving back to smile and take my hands in his.
“I do my best to make things right, whatever that may be. I wanted to show you I was sorry. That I cared, that I was serious about making it up to you.”
“Dean. As long as you stop being so damn stubborn and realize this is my life too, we’re alright. Now let’s enjoy that pizza, it smells fantastic” He nodded at me, gently pulling me to a chair and pushing it in once I sat down. Sometimes he could be stubborn, and we fought like any other couple, but I loved him nonetheless.

Andre Burakovsky- The Leia to my Han

Request:  Hey!! Can I request one with Andre Burakovsky where you decide to have a Star Wars marathon and he witnessed you completely nerd out for the first time because you know literally everything there is to know about Star Wars??? Thanks :))

Author’s note: Now I want my own marathon

Warnings: none

Up next: Alexander Wennberg

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anonymous asked:

Fitzsimmons + 42. Please and thank you :)

things you said when you asked me to marry you

A/N: I’m apologizing ahead of time because this turned out angstier than I’d intended. I have three excuses for my behavior: 1. jet lag 2. fighting some terrible cold or something 3. JED WHEDON DESTROYED MY SOUL WITH THE LAST EP. I AM planning to write a fluffier version of this prompt though, I promise! In the meantime, I wrote a super sappy proposal story awhile ago, if you need a palate cleanser? http://archiveofourown.org/works/7062676


It has only been ten hours since she’s rescued him from the Framework, but Jemma can’t wait any longer. As soon as they’re back in their bunk, she wraps her arms around him, mesmerized by the beating of his heart against her ear.

“Let’s get married,” she says, in a rush, not at all how she’d intended it. His inhale is shaky but he ducks down to press gentle kisses all along her face.

“I was gonna bring it up, but I was afraid. You’ve always been the braver one,” Fitz murmurs against her mouth, and she grins.

“I know,” she says, somewhat haughtily, before kissing his pout away.

“But I’ve been planning a speech,” he insists.

“Then maybe you should’ve mentioned something before your LMD could,” she replies, but she knows she’s gone too far when he stills beneath her fingertips, his sharp intake of breath sucking all the oxygen from the room.

“Don’t—” he starts, right as she cuts him off with, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I know,” he steps back from her and she pulls herself forward by his shirt, refusing to allow his retreat. “I just—I can’t, we can’t joke about it.”

Fitz,” she breathes as he sits heavily onto their bed, covering his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that…” She stops when she feels more than hears his shuddering sobs and it’s this that causes her own tears to fall. She kneels in front of him and pulls him into a fierce hug. He collapses against her, squeezing her to him so tightly it hurts.

“Don’t want—want to marry you,” is what she thinks she hears in between his choking sobs, and despite all the pain she’s survived, this is the moment she truly understands what it means to have a broken heart.

“No, Fitz, don’t do this,” she begs.

“Just—marrying, I thought it could mean…but we’re always, this won’t change. You’re always in danger.”

“What?” she whispers, desperately trying to follow his train of thought. He looks up at her then, and his eyes are shimmering with devastation and adoration and so much hunger. He brings her face to his and kisses her hard, like this might be the last time he will ever be allowed to touch her.  

She falls back onto the carpet, not even sure what’s happening, just needing him as close as possible.

“Fitz,” she gasps, arching her back as he slides his teeth over her pulse point. She stops suddenly, even though it’s the last thing she wants, because she still doesn’t understand his rambling. “Fitz, what do you want?”

He drops his head to her shoulder and she immediately feels his tears seeping through her shirt. “Jemma, let’s…let’s just leave.”


“I want to marry you, but I want everything. I want us to be together and have a home and maybe…maybe kids and none of that is possible here.”

“Wait, you do want to get married? I thought you just said—?” She shakes her head, feeling a dull throbbing behind her eyes. Some part of her can’t believe how happy she is, to know they want the same things after all. The other part of her is so very exhausted.

“I don’t want to just get married,” he clarifies, and when she looks up she finds he can’t meet her eyes. “I don’t regret…I don’t regret our life together and what we’ve done but…” he sighs, finally catching her gaze. “I want to have a chance at something remotely resembling a normal life.”

She’s breathing heavily now, trying to process everything he’s said, wondering how long he’s been feeling this way before it had burst out of him. Her silence must make him nervous because he grabs her hand, tugging her towards him.

“I know this work is important to you. It’s important to me too. What if we—what if we could settle down somewhere and consult? We could have our own lab and security and we could help out whenever SHIELD needs us.”

“Settle down?” she asks, watching his fingers as they play with hers. “Where?”

“Anywhere. Wherever you want, Jemma,” and the sincerity in his eyes is enough to choke her.

“Perthshire,” she whispers, bringing her lips to his and kissing him, much more gently this time. She can feel the tension leave his body in an instant, all of the fight and the sorrow and the fear spooling out of him like a virus she’s managed to eradicate with just her words.

“Perthshire,” he repeats softly. He lets his head fall once again to her shoulder, and this time when he cries it’s for all of the things he never thought he could have and that are now, somehow, miraculously within reach.

i walked with you once upon a dream (Chapter Four)

olicity || ao3 || mature || angst || 7541 || more fics

summary: Connected since their respective births, Oliver and Felicity were soulmates. What started off as a person that they dreamed of at night, a person they had never before met, turned into the greatest thing they could have imagined.
chapter word count: 1846
chapters: 4/?
a/n: Tbh I should write ahead more often for times like these when I don't feel like writing…. but anyway I had so much fun working on this chapter oh my god, I hope you guys enjoy reading it. I will say that this chapter and the next feature Laurel, but very briefly. There are certain canon things that I wanted to put in this story and you will see that very soon.

and thank you @yellowflicker09011996 for being the ever patient and amazing beta

also warning for mentions of pms/cramps

[prologue] [ch1] [ch2] [ch3]

Felicity studied and practiced  what she liked to call visiting as much as she could. She was better than Oliver by a mile, but she got the feeling that he never tried as hard. He was a teenage boy and sometimes it seemed that he had the attention span of a gnat. Oliver had years to change his mind and work hard on it, but he became more involved in sports in school and then girls. She rolled her eyes every time he talked about another girl with her. At least he was kind enough not to go into disgusting details.

Although, that didn’t stop her from accidentally popping in on him.

The thirteen year old sat on the edge of her bed, closing her eyes. She wanted to practice disconnecting her soul from her body, but she wasn’t sure if she could do it without going somewhere. There was only one way to find out. It was hard not to focus on Oliver when she was doing this because that’s what she always did. He popped into her head for one second and suddenly she was sitting on his bed. She picked a very bad moment to pop in on him. He was sucking the lips of a redhead that was most certainly not his girlfriend Laurel. Oliver was so startled he scrambled off the bed. The girl freaked out, wondering what she had done wrong. Felicity couldn’t stop herself from laughing as he tried to explain himself.

“I… uh… I just saw a bug behind you,” he tripped over his words.

“What?” she whipped her head around to look, but there was nothing on the wall, “If you didn’t want to makeout with me anymore you should have just said so,” she stormed out of the room.

“She’s overreacting,” Felicity said.

Oliver glared at her, “What are you doing here?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I was practicing, but I didn’t mean to come here.”

“Right,” he grumbled, looking away from her.

“What? Like I meant to interrupt your cheating,” she snapped.

“You’re just a kid you don’t understand,” he shook his head.

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Co-Parenting- pt 1

So awhile ago I posted a small drabble that I promised to add to. You can read that part here. I was going to post on ffn, but since I currently don’t heve my own computer, I’m going to post here and see what happens. 

Hermione sat high on the doctor’s table and tried to keep from shaking. Each small tremor that ran through her caused the paper underneath her to crinkle, the small sound was loud in her pounding ears and made her wince. She had stopped listening to the doctor after the first few minutes. Three home tests and an OB/GYN visit just to confirm what she already knew to be true-

She was pregnant.

The doctor was smiling and asking if she had any questions. Hermione shook her head no and soon found her hands loaded with more papers than she could count at the moment. Each one of the brightly colored papers seemed too hard to look at. Titles like ‘What to Expect when You’re Expecting’ and ‘Pregnancy Food Safety’ confused her scrambled brain and before she had anymore time to process, she was out the door and on her way home.


“Are you… are you sure?” Harry wasn’t looking at her, his already bright green eyes stood out more in his abnormally pale face.

Hermione laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Pretty sure Harry.” He glanced sharply at her then away again. Hermione pushed the results across the table and closer to him.

Harry picked them up and looked it over, then raked his hands through his already messy hair. Slowly he placed it back down and looked at Hermione, “What do you want to do?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, “What do you mean?”

Harry let out a shaky breath. “Well, I know you aren’t really ready to have kids. I don’t want to take your choice away in this. Whatever you decide, I’m with you.” He took her hands in his and rubbed his thumbs back and forth across her knuckles.

Hermione looked down at her hands in his and felt her eyes welling with tears, damn hormones, she thought. She looked back up into Harry’s green eyes and her heart clenched. Suddenly she wished Ron had been half as understanding. His desire to have a large family right away had clashed with her unwillingness to have any children. And maybe if he had tried to understand, things would have turned out different. She let out a shaky laugh, “I think… I think I’d like to do this. To have a child. With you.” she bit her lip, still nervous, “What about you Harry? This is about both of us now.”

Harry smiled softly, “Looks like we’re going to be parents.”

@curiouselfqueen @littleredsiren3101 @mechengmama @indiebluecrown @for-witchcraft-and-wizardry @ladyleanam @amaliabones @imsonick @protectnevillelongbottom @chiseplushie @inmuddywaters 

Genre: Smut*

*Warnings: Light bondage and thigh riding, hint of breath play, daddy kink, and switch!Jimin.

Word Count: 2667

Summary: Smut. No plot, no meaning. Just smut.

Requested by: @yoonkook-af

A/N: Okay so basically this was something that Millie and I talked about M O N T H S ago; I promised her something along these lines and never got around to it. Lo and Behold at like 1 AM what was meant to be a drabble turned into… this and it’s preeettyy sloppy but I haven’t posted in awhile so. :)

Hint: There maayyy be a part 2 to this. We’ll see how it goes.

     With your hands held securely to the headboard and a brown strap biting into the soft flesh of your wrists, another small whimper is elicited from your lips  as Jimin’s tongue swipes a burning trail up your folds. Hands caught between you and the bed, he pulls you forward by the grip he’s got on your ass, and there’s no longer a distinction between whether he’s moaning for you, or because damn, had you always tasted this good? With desperation, you try to focus more on the enveloping darkness that wraps around your eyes; what you lack in vision only coming back to bite you with the vivid reminder of his tongue.

    Your bottom lip clamped gently between your teeth, you try not to give him such satisfaction of making you beg for more, as challenging as he made it; being completely restricted and unable to see was enough vulnerability for you, even though your trembling thighs didn’t do much to prove your point.

     “Why so quiet, princess?” You hear his velvet voice slink along your exposed skin, Jimin’s finger pushing into your slick entrance.

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anonymous asked:

Hi!! May I request Hyungwon, Wonho, Changkyun and Minhyuk coming back home to see you cuddled up with your child soundly asleep? P.S I really like all the admins' posts 😆😆

Coming back to see you & your child cuddled up(Hyungwon, Wonho, I.M & Minhyuk)

Hyungwon: It had been a hard day if recording songs and his throat was hurting. All he wanted to do was go home and eat dinner with his wife and little girl. When he opened the front door and there was no noise, which was odd because your daughter was 3 ½ and always very loud. He slowly would take off his shoes and walk towards the living room. When Hyungwon arrived he saw the glow of the t.v shining on you and your daughter. “What have I done to become so lucky?” He would sigh and walk over to you and poke your nose. “Can I join?” After a nod from you he climbed in and within 10 minutes all of you were snoring away.

Originally posted by mmmgoals

Wonho: It was hard for him to believe he would go home and find 3 little hims running around. Granted 2 of them were females…. they were still mini versions of Wonho. By the time he got home it was already 1:30 in the morning so he knew he had to be quiet. Upon opening the bedroom door he saw 3 little heads of full, black hair and your beautiful face. Wonho would be very quiet in changing and coming to kneel on your side of the bed. Wonho wouldn’t say anything, he would just stare at you and your guys children wondering if he was being the best father and husband he would be. In times like this, Wonho would worry if him being an idol would ruin his relationship with you and your kids. That’s why he cherished these moments and never said a word.

Originally posted by wonhontology

Changkyun: Early morning work dad were his favorite because he would be home by nap time and watching his 1 ¾ year old daughter nap was the cutest thing. Recently though, she has been sick so sleeping hasn’t been easy. Before he came home he bought more medicine, diapers, baby wipes, and another teething ring because he lost the other 3. “Jagi! I’m home!” He would yell but instantly regret because when he heard no noise he knew you had to be asleep. Opening the door to the nursery, Changkyun saw you and your daughter in the hard wood floor with a humidifier at your feet. Changkyun would lay down on the other side of your daughter and brush hair out of your face to wake you. “Why don’t you go lay in bed? I can handle it for awhile.” You said no, so he just kissed you and kissed the sleeping infant in between you guys.

Originally posted by altwonhoseok

Minhyuk: Babies were hard. Newborns were hard but 2 newborns was the hardest he could ever imagine. When he got a call that he had a meeting to attend he felt bad because you had just given birth a couple of months ago. 4 months to be exact. Both of you were tired so he promised to back quickly. A couple hours had passed and he was already home. He walked in and heard no crying or screaming so that was already a good sign. Minhyuk walked into the nursery and saw you with no shirt on, and a baby boy on your chest. He started to laugh, but then his baby girl started to cry so he quickly grabbed her and started to sway. “Shh. Don’t wake up your oppa and mommy. They are both very tired. Why don’t we go play? Hmm?”


Late For the Party

Can also be found on AO3 and FF.net, also under the cut…

Authors Note: This is my tenth prompt for the Olicity Hiatus-Fic-A-Thon organised by @thebookjumper This is my one-shot version. These are supposed to be smutty, but I am WAY behind on these prompts, and my muse is being really bad and I just couldn’t do the smut. SORRY! My personal life is basically a mess, so thus I am a mess, which means writers block, and struggling to find time to write. sorry again, I hope you like this one regardless… Enjoy x

Summary: Future Olicity.

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My 20 Year Old Idol Husband -BTS Fanfic [Day 3 - The Black Out]

20 yr old Jungkook, at the top of his idol boyband career, has a secret only he & his bandmates know – An underground relationship, with you, a girl he met at a fanmeeting. Things get a little out of hand and you find out you’re pregnant.

Read: Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3

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So…we need to talk…

I don’t really know how to start this because it’s been awhile for me, but please bear with me.

I guess I should start by saying, I’m back.

For those of you that didn’t know, I took a very long break due to personal reasons (I’ll explain further down if anyone is interested) and haven’t actually been on Tumblr for the past few weeks.

Everything that was being posted from my account was part of my queue.

I’m sorry to anyone who messaged me or reached out to me in my time of absence (I’ve been gone almost 3 weeks I think) but, rest assured, I’m back now and will be replying to every single message I received while I was gone.

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Twisted Desires Chapter Eight

Quick Info - Someone from Y/N’s past shows up unexpectedly
Word Count -3812
Warnings - language, angst, fluff,

Part eight of twenty five. Hope you enjoy this series as much as i enjoyed writing it.

This is my first Jensen series and I am really excited but also nervous. I mean no disrespect toward Jensen or Danneel. This is purely a fictitious story that I tried with Dean but it didn’t work as well. Thank you to @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @tankcupcakes​ and @atc74​ for their beta and encouragement with this series.

Twisted Desires Masterlist

My Masterlist

Twisted Desires Chapter Eight

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1,000 Followers Drabble

Prompt: “Oh sweetheart, I’m harmless.“

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Requested by: @dustycelt

“Well, look who it is!”

“What’s up, Ackles?” You smirk.

You and your trusty camera are working at the Saturn Awards and of course you run into this goofball. You were hired to be on the red carpet and weave around the stars as they do their thing.

“I had a feeling you were gonna be here.” Jensen says looking you up and down.

“I’m a photographer who shoots at award shows and….oh, shit! That’s where we are right now.” You reply sarcastically.

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