i think i'm gonna try to head off to sleep now

accidentally?

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

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

yup.

(on ao3)

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

Anyway.

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

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

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anonymous asked:

can you give me some otayuri getting together hc?? i'm rlly sad n angsty bc of a boy rn :(( -poet

Yeah I’m still pissed off because of that copycat anon so I’m gonna calm us both down I hope that boy gets his dick kicked. cOME HERE LET’S HAVE SOME HUGS AND DEEP BREATHING. 

  • They weren’t overnight, obviously. They were painfully slow burning up to each other, but they were the quickest to become best friends. 
  • They would text each other all the time - and after practice they would typically Skype each other until Yuri would just pass out.
  • However, Otabek had loved Yuri since their first meeting as children - but he was willing to hold off so he wouldn’t ruin their friendship. So, (props to Heather for this one) when Yuri falls asleep during the Skype calls, Otabek just watches. He loves seeing the Russian’s face soft and peaceful and just so at ease with strands of hair in his face and he loves listening to his steady breathing. He never tells Yuri about it, even after they get together.
  • Yuri doesn’t realise that he’s in love until Otabek visited him in Hastesu (originally he was going to St. Petersburg, but then he found out that Yuri would be visiting Hasetsu and just decided to go there and try the famous Katsudon he’s been hearing about). Yuri didn’t know how to use chopsticks well, and Otabek decided to teach him by placing his hand over Yuri’s and guiding him.
  • The next time he visits Otabek introduces him to his favourite band, Arctic Monkeys, and plays this song. The lyrics make Yuri curious, but neither of them said anything about it. 
  • They hold their feelings in for years - Otabek is willing to live the rest of his life alone waiting, while Yuri is practically going mad with wanting. Until, finally, Yuri starts to push boundaries. 
  • It starts small. Lingering touches on fingers when passing something over. Pulling him by the arm and letting his grip slide down and onto his hand until they reach their destination. Subtle flirts and questions while they would talk on Skype. All of them were always covered with a shitty ass excuse to push the boundary. 
  • However, Yuri suffers a head injury during practice once. It’s nothing too bad - just Yakov told him not to get back on the ice for the rest of the week, at least. So, he decides to take this opportunity to go visit Otabek in Almaty for the week. 
  • Yuri gets more bold with his limits. When he meets Otabek at the airport, he’s greeted with earplugs for his head (because Beka is an absolute sweetheart and doesn’t want the loud noise from his bike to affect his best friend’s head injury); and Yuri pretends one of the earplugs is loose so he would press his ear against Otabek’s back while they rode on his bike. He offered they sleep in the same bed, even “warning” that he gets cuddly in his sleep. His touches would linger, his words were becoming questionable with double meanings - and he even offered a pair skate when he visited Otabek’s rink in Almaty: and that’s where he got sloppy. 
  • His touches were gentle and caressing and his moves were suggestive and Otabek remembered thinking what the hell is going on in a small panic that he might let something slip. Little does he know, that Yuri can’t take it anymore. 
  • When they go home that night, Yuri fakes sleeping so he could cuddle up with Otabek, then decides to wait until Otabek falls asleep until he finally leans up and kisses him.
  • It’s Yuri’s first kiss. 
  • Otabek, however, is not a heavy sleeper. 
  • Yuri had sighed to himself and he goes to stand and go to the bathroom to splash himself in the face for what he did - until he felt something grab his wrist and pull him back to the bed, now devouring him in kisses until Yuri is seeing stars and he feels like he’s flying. 
  • They pulled away once, and Otabek gently rested his forehead on Yuri’s and simply asked, “how long?”
    “Since I was sixteen. At least.”

  • They kiss again and they don’t stop until the two of them pass out that night, and they address what happened in the morning while they ate breakfast downstairs with some chai, and then they talk about what would be next for them in their lives. Everything was unanimously agreed. 
3

Alright, HERE we go! Awhile ago I had an idea for a MP100/Voltron crossover, and after mentioning it to @x-i-l-verify​ and loooots of brainstorming later, we have…*gestures vaguely* this. These are more or less screenshot redraws just to kind of get across who is who. :) More info, reasonings and musings under the cut, because well…it got long…

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SEP: Sunsets

I wrote this based on the comic “SEP Days” that my friend @vapewraith drew - I love silly SEP and Crisis interactions between Gabriel and Jack so I loved this comic and really wanted to show how much Vape’s art and colors inspire me.

Thank you again, Vapewraith - thank you for nearly nine months of your wonderful Overwatch art!  ❤️  ❤️  ❤️

———

“Soldiers, line up here.”

There are tart groans and muttered whines as the SEP candidates shuffle to a stop and the group practically collapses against the walls and waist-high concrete barriers.  The exhaustion and aches are practically tangible in the air as the supersoldiers-in-training ease themselves into sitting or leaning or even lying positions - Number: 37 practically throws herself on the group even though it’s as miserably comfortable as sleeping on broken groundstone.  Number: 123 next to Gabriel rolls his shoulders, hissing every time the right one moves back too far, exactly where one of the rubber bullets had hit him earlier.  Number: 88 on the other side of Jack seats herself and then curls up into a ball, pulling the drawstrings on her hood to shut the world into what Jack assumes is blissful darkness.

They’re in one of the halls of the SEP facility - tucked away into a deep mountainside “somewhere out west,” the building is hard angles and brutal concrete and cut-steel, as soft as titanium and as gentle as the injections they get every morning and evening.  Yet even here, in “wherever’s-range,” there is still beauty: the massive windows, normally just cold, crystalline glass, are open to the sunset, bleeding colors across the land and sky, dripping into the hallway with the vibrancy of oil paints.  Reds smoke into bright, endless pinks, golds melt into bold, sunshine yellows, oranges shift into liquid amber, and at the edges of the atmosphere, velvet purples sigh into silky blues, tinting the more vivid colors and steeped clouds with the dusk of night and the emerging stars.

It’s a sight neither Gabriel nor Jack will ever get tired of -

No matter how exhausted they are.

“The doctors will see you shortly -” the SEP instructor starts to say, reappearing at the far end of the hallway, before he looks up from the papers on his clipboard and scowls at the group of crumbling supersoldiers, snapping, “Is that what you call ‘lining up?’”

“Maybe if y’all didn’t work us so damn hard,” Number: 141 growls, his voice climbing into a hoarse yell, “We’d still have the energy to fucking stand!” 

(The rest is under the cut!)

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anonymous asked:

hey! i was just thinking, that i've been listening to the songs harry requested on radio 1 and they've been stuck in my head for so long omg. and like, i'm not connecting the songs he requested to larry, but with each song a little scenario ab them plays in my head! was wondering if you could write little snippets based on a couple of the songs? sweetest devotion by adele and issues by julia michaels!

I got really carried away with this; I combined both of these songs and very subtly put a few of the lyrics into a mess of 3k. I hope this works for you xx



Louis watches the build up and break over a period of months. Years, even. Harry’s tired. They both are, but Harry’s exceptionally so. He’s been working nonstop on his album, his photography, himself, and now that he’s back in the limelight all day, everyday, it’s taking a serious toll. Louis doesn’t say anything or imply that Harry needs to slow down, but he wants to, just isn’t quite sure how. Harry’s been a little moodier, a little more on edge, and the whole time Louis is trying to figure out a way to approach the subject lightly, it seems that Harry has already given it just as much thought as Louis has, if not more.

“I think I wanna take some time off,” he says one night just before bed. He’s in the middle of changing his pants, tripping into them like he always does. “Like, hide, maybe?” The way he says it makes it sound like he’s asking for permission from Louis, just to make sure they’re currently at the same level.

Louis raises a brow from his position in bed and looks up, relieved, worried. “Yeah? Like go on an extended holiday?”

“Mmm, something like that.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Harry crawls into bed beside him, shirtless and shoulders pink from his sunburn. The weather was mild and about 10 degrees today - typical for January - but they spent the majority of the day outside, anyway, Harry lounging in the backyard, ignoring Louis’ request to venture out. Paps, he said simply, going back to shielding his eyes from the LA sun.

“I rented out a place in Maine,” he says, reaching for his reading glasses on the bedside table. He doesn’t really need them, but no matter how much Louis teases him about it, he continues to wear them, squinting without them. Dramatic. “I’m not even really sure where it is, but I know it’s right on a lake, it’s in the woods, it’s secluded, it’s…” He sighs. “Not here.”

Louis’ stomach tightens. “You trying to get away from me, Styles?”

“No, God no.” Harry shakes his head, curls finally grown back in and bouncing. “I’m trying to take a break from everything, but that doesn’t include you. You can come with me, if you want. But don’t feel obligated to. I know how much you love it here. And that you like writing here best.”

I love it here because you’re here. “I’m comin’ with,” he replies eventually.

“You want to?”

“Yes. You’re a bit strange for wanting to fuck off to the middle of nowhere but. I’m used to your weirdness by this point. No judgement here. I’ll come with.”

Harry smirks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose like Louis always does. Copy cat. “Good.”

“So, when’re we leaving?”

“Thursday morning.”

“Christ, you’re an impulsive lad, aren’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“Makes life interesting.”

Harry nods, reaching for the remote for the telly, then setting it back down. “I’m very happy. I really am. I just need a change, yeah?”

“It’s okay to, like, want to step back,” Louis says softly. “You don’t have to be grateful and positive every second of the day. Wanting to escape is probably the most normal thing I can think of.”

He’s quiet for a moment, probably thinking. He purses his lips when he looks at Louis. “Thank you.”

“Absolutely.”

“And you’re gonna escape with me? Until you’re tired of me?”

Louis smiles, turning off his bedside light. “Absolutely.”

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SugarDaddy!Cal Pt. 5

A/N: I was gonna update yesterday, but yanno school is stressful yet a top priority. I don’t have much to say, but I'm glad you all like the last part and I’m thankful for all of the nice feedback in my dms. (You get to learn a small ounce about my childhood you guys lmao) I hope you guys enjoy part 5 and remember as always I need 100 notes to release part 6💕

I coulda ended it better too, sorry bout that. It’s past two in the morning on a school night and I ran out of ideas…

**WARNING**: Slight smut, not much though


Parts: One/ Two/ Three/ Four/Five/Six/Seven/Eight/
Nine/Ten/Eleven/Twelve/Thirteen/Fourteen/Fifteen


“Y/N…” Calum grumbled, flipping onto his side to see you better and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think fish go to heaven?”

You couldn’t help but to snort as the sleepy boy asked the question. You were currently in his bed and watching Law&Order SVU on Netflix as he struggled to stay awake. He had called you over an hour or two ago because he was bored out of his mind and now it was just a little past two in the morning. You were hesitant at coming over at first, not wanting to be seen by his roommate, but he convinced you his friend was heavily sleeping since it was so late at night. You also gave into coming over because you hadn’t seen him in almost a week and missed his scent and cheeky smile.

“Seriously.”

“I’m pretty sure they do, Calum, why?”

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Moonlight

also on ao3 :- ))

Jeremy could tell something was off with Michael from the beginning. His usual carefree attitude is gone and replaced with a tenseness unusual for him. What bothers him most was that he didn’t have a clue of what could be causing it.

The night had started off normal. He had gone to bed after hanging out at Michael’s for a while after school. Just as he was about to fall asleep around midnight, he heard his phone softly ping in the darkness. He had been half tempted to just ignore it until morning, but fortunately he made himself sit up and look at the text message he had received.

Hey im outside ur house lets go for a night drive pls

And, okay, that in itself isn’t unusual. This isn’t the first time Michael has shown up unannounced at his house, but he could feel that something is different this time. Maybe it’s the “pls” at the end. Maybe he’s just thinking too much into it. There’s probably nothing wrong and Michael just couldn’t sleep and wanted to hang out with Jeremy some more. Yeah, that’s probably it.

Hopefully.

He’s brought back from his thoughts when the car stops. They have reached an empty intersection, the stop sign glinting from the headlights. Michael is staring straight ahead, hands coming from the steering wheel to rest on his lap.

“Uh, Michael, what’s up? Why aren’t we moving? There’s no other cars…” Jeremy stutters out somewhat nervously, his worry increasing.

Michael continues staring in front of him as he says, “There’s just been something…. Just… buddy, I -” He stops suddenly.

“Michael, please, tell me. I’m wor -” He’s cut off by Michael abruptly turning towards him.

“Jeremy, I’m gonna do something. And it’s a pretty big something, like monumental, okay. I just…” He looks determined, though his voice wavers as he says, “I need to do this.”

“Um, okay. But what…?” Jeremy trails off when a warm hand comes up to rest on his cheek. Michael’s thumb traces lightly under his eye as he smiles softly, nervously.

“Just stop me if I'm… doing anything wrong, okay?”

And, oh God, Jeremy is blushing so hard that Michael surely can feel it. His heart is beating rapidly as Michael leans closer and closer. Is he really going to…?

His question is answered when lips meet his own.

It’s chaste and quick and hardly to write home about, but it was so much more to Jeremy and he could only imagine what Michael must be feeling right now. Even after Michael is leaning back with his hand gone from Jeremy’s cheek, he swears he can still feel the warmth and softness of it all. He’s still blushing profusely and he can see that Michael is too.

Michael becomes more and more tense and nervous as Jeremy continues to just sit there and stare at him, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide.

“Jeremy? I — I’m sorry; I just… You’re so… amazing? And cute and funny and I love everything about you and I love spending time with you so much and I… I’m sorry if I just ruined everything or something, I dunno, I just…” He shrugs helplessly at the end.

Jeremy finally snaps from his stupor and rushes to lean over the center console and place his hands on the sides of Michael’s face.

“Dude, that’s so gay.” Jeremy says because he can’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t make him stutter and blush even more. He begins to regret those words until he sees Michael starting to grin widely and laugh. Jeremy leans back over to the passenger side and begins to laugh as well. Michael laughs louder as he hears Jeremy joining him and -

Jeremy stops as he takes in the sight. Michael’s eyes are closed and his head is tilted back — Jeremy can clearly see the line of his Adam’s apple from the streetlight shining through the driver side’s window — and this all causes Jeremy to swallow nervously but with a slight giddy feeling. He can’t believe someone as attractive and amazing as Michael likes him. Awkward, stutter-y Jeremy. He almost feels overwhelmed. Maybe this is all just a dream; maybe he had never checked his phone after all.

“Is this a dream?”

Michael looks at him, laughing subsiding but a smile is still there. He takes Jeremy’s hand in his own and kisses him again, harder and longer this time. Thankfully, he pulls back before Jeremy can feel embarrassed about the moan that was trying to push its way pass his lips.

“Did that feel like a dream?” Michael is smirking now, hand still clasped with Jeremy’s.

Jeremy blushes as he shakes his head vigorously. “Not at all.”

Michael laughs softly as leans over.

“Good,” he says, before kissing him once again.

____________

They’re sitting in the car outside Jeremy’s house now.

Michael looks a little disappointed as he says, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He still smiles slightly, though.

Jeremy wonders why this all feels so awkward because it’s just Michael, his best friend, so why does it feel like he can’t think of the right thing to say? Then he remembers why it’s awkward because things are different now. It makes him wonder what Michael is to him now. What are they? Are they… boyfriends?

“What are we?” Jeremy blurts out, face already a deep shade of red.

“Well, uh, what do you want to be? Do you wanna, like, go on a, you know, a date first?”

Jeremy lets out a breathy laugh as he nods. “Yeah, yeah, let’s, uh, do that.”

“Okay, okay, cool.”

“Yeah, cool.”

A beat.

“Sooooo…” Jeremy starts but stops when Michael starts laughing. “What? What? Why are you laughing?”

“Because, buddy, best friend, light of my life (Jeremy blushes at that), you are so hopelessly awkward.”

Jeremy sputters, “Wha — Hey! You aren’t any better right now! And can you blame me?” He mumbles the last part.

Michael puts up his hands in mock surrender. “No, no, you’re right.”

Jeremy intertwines his hands with Michael’s before he can think about it too much. Michael grins and Jeremy smiles nervously back.

“Do you wanna come inside for a bit?” Jeremy asks.

____________

Moonlight streams through the window of Jeremy’s room. It casts a pale glow on the two of them lying together on Jeremy’s bed. They’re facing each other, curled up and hands together. Both are on the verge of sleep, eyes heavy and breathing slow.

“I think it’s safe to say that we’re boyfriends.” Michael says softly.

“Yeah, but ‘m still expectin’ that date…” Jeremy responds sleepily, shifting closer to him.

Michael smiles, eyes lit up with adoration. “Of course, Jer, of course.”

ms-aqua-marvel  asked:

Fic Prompt!: Brainwashed evil Dick with Batbros to the rescue! If you don't mind.

There you go. Tim decided he was the one in charge here, so I let him do all the angst. (Spoiler: it’s a lot of angst. As a matter of fact this is so sad, I’m just gonna go ahead and apologize for it in advance).

Read on AO3


There’s little room for mistakes, so they keep it simple.

Red Robin goes first. Strategically speaking, he’s the only one capable of surprising Nightwing and throw him off balance, which is something that they really need if they want to overcome him with minimum damage.

Red Hood goes next. His fighting style is brutal and effective, and bruises are not a problem at this point. Besides, Nightwing doesn’t know that he’s not going to use his guns in their most effective way, so most of his focus will be on that and not on the next attack.

Robin’s supposed to go last. Take Nightwing by surprise, work on his sides, distract him enough for Tim and Jason to go for the second round, and immobilize and drug him before things get even more out of hands.

Like with all the simple things, the plan looked good on paper, but a few hiccups here and there were to be expected as a general rule, and they all were prepared for them.

What they were not prepared for, is for Robin to freeze in the middle of the fight.

It’s such an alien concept to Tim, that it takes him three seconds too many to realize what’s happening. And even when he does, even when he turns his attention from the sedative syringe he’s fumbling with to his younger brother, it doesn’t hit immediately.

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hush little baby...

cs future family fluff ~ or the one in which Killian and Emma are in awe, and amazed, and so in love with their five-week old baby girl. (( AO3 ))

AN:I’m sad, kay? and with cs babies and singing on the brain, so excuse me while I pour all my mush into the world. Fluff galore to help me deal with today.


​Everything is just so small. So so bloody small.

Before Estella was born, Killian helped Emma wash and fold the tiny clothes; all of them, including the miniature trousers and booties. He briefly wondered (assumed) the baby sure wasn’t going to be able to fit in half the clothes.

It had been much of an afterthought back then. He shared a look with Emma when she commented about the size of the clothes (most likely having read his thoughts about the matter) but that had been the end of it.

They carried on, deciding instead which tiny outfit their baby would wear when they brought her or him home from the hospital.

At the time, they didn’t know Estella was a girl, so they’ve chosen a little white cotton one-piece, with tiny yellow ducks on the feet and a small one near the heart.

Once the day came, and Estella was born, it turned out the outfit they chose was much too big for their little duckling. Estella was a wee little one and most all the clothes they had for her, were too big.

Killian could hardly believe it and insisted there was no way that was possible.

Emma had been more understanding than he was, and proceeded to make arrangements to get more than a handful of smaller clothes for Estella.

She reassured him telling him Estella would grow into all of her clothes in no time flat, and that this was normal. “She was born a whole five weeks early, Killian,” Emma had told him patiently. “There was a lot of chunking up this little one decided to skip,” she’d said, before kissing Estella softly and effectively making his heart stutter.

(Grow in size as well. Probably two sizes at least)

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@buryooooo

AHHHHH MORE FANFICS OH MY LORD

EXPECT ZERO!BILLxFIGHT!DIPPER IN THE FUTURE I PLAN ON MAKING FLUFF
AHHH SO MUCH FANFICS SO LITTLE TIME
BUT FOR NOW, HERES THE BROTHERS AU THING
TOOK ME FOREVER TO THINK OF SOMETHING OH MY LORD I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS IS GOING AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me, and belongs to the person who created it. The only thing I own is the plot.

Also, sorry it’s short;;;; I’m writing this while I’m sick and tired and I feel like I’m dying, so I’m just gonna try and get this over with so I can take a nap or just sleep in general =^=

Also, really really sorry. It ended up shorter than I expected. Gosh I’m tired. Anyways, Imm gonna call it done, I don’t know what else to add to it. I’ll probably write something longer in the future

Classic:
Dipper - Majors in creative writing - 17
Mabel - Majors in mixed media art - 17

Reverse:
Mason - Majors in psychology - 21
Belle - Majors in fashion designer - 21

Fight:
Tyrone - Majors in sport science - 19
May - Majors in human physiology - 19

(None of the Mabel’s are in it)

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lance-punk  asked:

Idea: Altean! Prince Lance with his sister Allura. Lance wakes up feeling terrible and Luke's everywhere, and his Galra bodyguard/boyfriend Keith is like ???? But they have a visitor coming so Lance has to get up while he's getting ready he likes and faints and hits his head? And Keith finds him and is like o shit. Sorry if I don't make sense I'm high off paracetamol lmao

oh my gosh, I freaking love this so much. I would LOVE to see it as a fic. 

Imagine:

  • Lance is getting ready and Keith is waiting outside his door for him to get dressed so he can accompany him on all the morning errands Lance has to run before the visitors arrive
  • The visitors are really… particular about how they believe royalty should act, and they especially frown upon the Galra. They know that Prince Lance has a Galra bodyguard and have decided that they think it’s okay, but they don’t and can’t know that he’s close with him. 
  • So Keith is waiting and he’s like “Lance did you just go back to sleep??? Get up you lazy ass” and he goes in but Lance isn’t in his bed sleeping
  • Keith looks around and finds Lance in the bathroom, throwing up and looking super weak, sweaty, and pale
  • Keith is like “omg okay I’ll go get Allura and tell her she needs to handle the meeting on her own” but Lance is like “it’s fine, I probably just had too much wine last night when we were celebrating the new peace treaty (which is why the visitors are so important–they’re coming to sign the treaty and if Lance screws it up, then they lose an ally and could even go to war)
  • Keith is like “oh, okay then” because that does make sense–Lance had had a few the night before
  • Keith gets Lance some things for hangover and Lance says it helped even though he still looks queasy and shaky
  • So the time comes for the meeting and Keith is dressing Lance in his super formal robes and notices the fever just pouring off him, and tells him he really needs to skip the meeting, but Lance can’t, because canceling now would be seen as rude and disrespectful and could set the visitors off, so he’s just gonna deal with it
  • So Lance and Allura are going down the stairs to the banquet hall and Keith and the other guards are waiting at the bottom of the stairs and suddenly Lance starts to stumble and finally falls
  • Keith yelps and calls out Lance’s name, running to his side, and the visitors are appalled  by this guard’s lack of using Lance’s first name only, and they pry him away and Lance starts to get really upset because keef no come back
  • Allura smooths everything over with the visitors while the guards take Lance back to his room, but for appearances, they have to send Keith to the dungeons until the prisoners leave and act like he’s being punished
  • Lance hears someone talking about Keith being in the dungeons and he’s like “oh HELL no” and he sneaks out of his room to go break Keith out of jail
  • He’s outside the cell, barely conscious, burning up, v upset that Keith is being punished because of him, and even though Keith is trying to explain that it’s fine, that it’s temporary, that it’s fake–Lance just wants to get him out. But he passes out right at the doors of the cell, keys too far away for Keith to reach and unlock the door to help, so all he can do is reach through and stroke Lance’s hair until help arrives
  • The visitors want to come see the prisoner, and when they and Allura get there, they find Lance collapsed and Keith still petting him, and Keith is like “he’s just really kind and very sick, he’s not in his right mind; he felt bad that I was punished for trying to help but please don’t be mad at him” and the visitors are like “…fine. But to prove that there’s nothing going on between you two, I want Princess Allura to banish the guard” 
  • Allura is like “okay” and she pretends to, but Lance regains a bit of consciousness and starts to fight it, saying he loves him
  • It’s the first time he’s ever said that to Keith and the first time anyone has ever said that to Keith and even though everything is terrible and it’s a horrible time, Keith can’t help but say it back
  • And Allura is like “y’all are killin me” but explains to the visitors that Keith is a v good boy and that he and the Prince are courting, and the visitors are like disgusted but eventually just like “fuck it. We’ll sign the treaty anyway because we don’t want to fight your army and the Galra army.” and the day is saved thanks to Allura and no thanks to the Idiot Boyfriends
  • Keith gets out of prison and nurses Lance back to health

Oh my fucking god sorry this got out of control

Dead Girl Walkin’.

A/n: Yay! My first marvel fic, and of course it’s Frank, who else would it be? (Maybe Bucky….or Sam..) Points aside, I’m glad he’s the one to kick off this blog. Also big shoutout to @murdochinthetardis For beta-ing some of this. Anyway, Reqs are open, send in ask, blah blah blah.

Summary: (Set pre-season 2) After you get caught trying to do the unthinkable you get a thirty hour ticking time bomb of a punishment, and, yeah, It’s a miracle you’re not dead, truly, but come on.Thirty hours?That’s not enough time to do anything, well…maybe go see Frank. There’s time for that. Or, the one where the reader seeks a friend at the end of the world.

Word Count: 4.9K

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader.

Rating: E (for explicit, not everyone.)

Warnings: Violence, blood, Cursing, Frank is his own warning, Smut, I’m talking the freaky deaky. It’s rough, and Frank, bless his heart, is a dominant man if there ever was one. But also fluff, because he’s a sweetheart. Pining, God, you two are a mess of it I swear.

Author: Jada.

+

+

It was an absolute fact that you weren’t gonna die a peaceful death. Yeah no, you were gonna go out one of two different ways. One, a Bruce Willis, Die Hard type thing with

at least

two explosions. Or two, someone else is gonna punch your card for you. Full stop. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, that’s it.

Frank threw a guess in once. Said you’d probably go out saving a bunch’a kids from a burning building or something, because you’re a soft ass like that, Sunshine, that’s why. He was three stitches deep on his right arm, and shooting you looks from his side of the couch. Ain’t that right, Sunshine?

Nope. Nuh-uh, not even close. You get a grand total of thirty hours, all Courtesy of Mr. Kingpin himself. Fisk. What kind of name is Fisk anyway? It sounds too much like Fist, or fish, either way it’s awkward. You’re just being pissy, because you got caught, and Fisk is rubbing it in your face.

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I’m Staying - Unknown’s story

…This is one of my first requests.  And I’ve finally gotten around to writing it.  Because no more school!  And I’m finally catching my breath with my job.

Summary: In my Ideal World, after the Secret Endings, and after they are an established couple, Unknown discovers something about MC that she’s been trying to hide. (2nd person narrative)

Rating:  M for mature, because it’s not explicit, but it is there.

Length:  Almost 1600 words


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tbh I’m still waiting on a coda that hypes up jealous!dean big time

Like all of them getting back to the bunker and Cas is taking the trench off and Dean sees a piece of paper fall out of the pocket. He goes to pick it up and freezes when he reads the print on the front. Mick Davies. British Men of Letters. 

“You kept it?” he snarls at Cas.

And Cas looks confused at Dean’s tone but just answers, “Yes. I thought it would be wise in case we ever need to contact them.”

“We don’t need help from those assholes, Cas!” Dean yells and stalks away, crumbling the card in his hand. Later when he’s in his room, he tosses it in the trashcan and burns it.

And Dean thinks that’s the end of it until the next day when he finds Cas in the library researching the British Men of Letters.

“Cas, we are not working with those assholes! Did you see what the did to Sam?”

“I’m not recommending it, Dean,” Cas replies evenly. “I just thought it best to be prepared should it ever become necessary. And Mick said-”

The name rolls off Cas’s tongue and Dean sees red. “Oh. Mick, huh? We’re on first name basis now, are we? Well that’s just great.”

Confusion tilts Cas’s head and squints his eyes and it is not cute right now. “Dean is everything all right?”

“Of course!” Dean shouts, jumping to his feet. “Why wouldn’t I be thrilled about you getting all buddy-buddy with middle-aged Harry Potter?!” Dean turns on his heel and marches out of the room.

Of course, Cas is still struggling to understand sarcasm, Dean’s brand in particular, so he continues researching and is more and more fascinated about the history of the Men of Letters, which he happily relates to Mary, Sam, and a very bitter Dean.

A very bitter Dean, who answers all of Cas’s questions for the next two weeks with “I don’t know, why don’t you go call your boyfriend, Mick?”

So Cas… does… and then reports his findings to the Winchesters and Dean is ready to fucking explode every time Cas says “Mick said…” or “Mick thinks…”

Mick this. Mick that. Mick, Mick, Mick.

Dean spends a lot of extra time in the garage throwing tools and glaring at engines.

I reckon you could finish me off without breaking a sweat…

WHO THE FUCK EVEN SAYS SOMETHING LIKE THAT? THAT’S NOT A NORMAL WAY TO TALK TO A STRANGER.

And did Cas really not sweat? He had to. Dean tried to think back to some hunts when Cas got a bit roughed up, tried to focus his memory on Cas’s forehead, the column of his throat, which was so long and smooth up until where his stubble-

Not the point, Winchester!

And one day they’re in the middle of a hunt and they’re stumped, exhausting all of their resources and Cas begins, “I could call M-”

And that’s it!

“WE’RE NOT CALLING MICK!” Dean screams and Mary and Sam’s eyes go wide.

“Why not?” Cas pouts.

“Because I don’t want his fucking help, Cas!”

“But his library is far more-”

“I don’t fucking care!” Dean yells. “You are not calling him, Cas, and that’s final!”

Cas’s eyes narrow and, yeah, definitely not cute this time. He gets to his feet. “Are you giving me an order, Dean Winchester?”

“Yes, Castiel, I am!”

Cas turns level eyes to Sam who just nods and takes his mother’s hand. “We need to go.”

They’re gone in seconds, leaving Dean to single-handedly face the fury of an angel of the lord. 

“You are being irrational and I want to know why,” Cas says.

“I’m irrational?” Dean scoffs. “You want to get in bed with the enemy! Literally!”

And there’s that damn head tilt. “I have no intention of sharing a bed with the British Men of Letters. I don’t sleep, Dean.”

Dean slaps his hands to his face, groaning and somewhere in the back of his mind, just begging Cas to smite him and end this all. 

“Dammit, Cas, that’s not… that’s not what I meant.”

“You are referring to sexual intercourse then? Because I also have no interest in engaging with the organization in such activities.”

“Cas, you’re killing me here,” Dean says weakly, exhausted at the sheer amount of oblivion coming from this ancient creature. “Why do you want to work with them?”

“You told me to.”

“When the hell did I-”

“You’ve been telling me to call Mick for the last two weeks.”

Dean blinks, trying to remember when he had lost his damn mind in the last two weeks- “Cas, I was being sarcastic!”

“Oh.” Cas looks calmer now. “So you didn’t want me to actually call Mick?”

“No, Cas! I don’t want you to even think about that fucker!”

“Why not?”

“Oh for the love of- HE WAS FLIRTING WITH YOU!”

Back to confused. “When?”

“When we rescued Sam! Oh, Jesus Christ, Cas. Sweat! The way he looked at you after you said you didn’t sweat.”

“Humans find the inability to perspire sexually appealing?”

“No, you idiot, you are sexually appealing!”

Dean is so frustrated he can’t even process what he just said until something lights in Cas’s eyes. It’s a bit dazed and disbelieving and… hungry? 

“You find me sexually appealing?”

“I-I-I w-what?” Dean stammers.

Cas takes a step toward Dean. “You said I was sexually appealing.” 

“What? No! I-I- I meant him - Mick - he-he finds you, ugh, se-sex, um, appealing. He finds you appealing.”

The light dies and Cas frowns. “Oh. So you don’t?”

Dean has to make a big decision then. To lie or tell the truth. To play it safe or take a chance.

And, well, when has Dean Winchester ever played it safe?

“Y-yeah.”

Blue swarms on Dean until he can’t see anything because Cas’s face is too close and something soft brushes Dean’s lips. They kiss and Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s waist, diving into this moment and locking the angel in place with him. 

When they separate Cas is grinning and Dean is too dizzy to see the teasing angel. “You were jealous,” Cas breathes.

“Took you long enough to figure it out,” Dean slurs and wonders if it’s possible to get drunk off of kissing because he’s showing all the signs of a good buzz.

“Actually, Mick told me last week.”

And there it goes. “Cas! What the hell!”

“You were confusing me,” Cas argues. “You were angry all the time but you wouldn’t talk to me.”

“So you’ve just been fucking with me this entire week?”

Cas’s fingers card calmingly through Dean’s hair and Dean gets the suspicion he’s being treated like an angry cat. “My apologies, Dean. Can we go back to kissing?”

Dean has half a mind to deny Cas but Cas’s other hand is hovering just over his ass and who the hell is he trying to kid?

“Fine. But we’re gonna have a long talk about your pen pal later.”

But that talk comes several, several hours later.

Oh look I accidentally wrote a shitty drabble again oops my bad

Soulmates Part. 1

I know! I know! @inukag-week already ended but it’s because of @keichanz that I ended up with too many feelings to leave this alone!

So this ended up happening. It was supposed to be a oneshot but it was getting too long XD

This is for you @inukag-4ever because you are awesome and I love you! Happy belated birthday!!

Summary:  Every person has a Soulmate, with whom they share an unique bond, they can feel each other’s feelings and the closer they are to each other the stronger it gets. Inuyasha and Kagome share a strong bond imposible to ignore. Inuyasha is looking for his Soulmate. Kagome is doing everything she can to avoid finding hers.

In FF.net and Ao3 too :D


Kagome looked at her best friends being lovey-dovey on her couch as she tried to remember why she had to invite them over.  She sighed. Right, they had invited themselves over.

Narrowing her eyes she tried to recall the reason why she was supposed to withstand their not-so-secret looks and caresses. She understood the reason why they were like that. They were Soulmates. Yep, capital S and everything, the real deal. And they had been apart for almost a year when Miroku went to the US in a exchange student program and he had just come back a week ago.

“I’d appreciate if you could stop pretending I can’t see where your hands are NOT…” Kagome said before sipping from her cold tea.

Sango smiled a little embarrassed as she separated herself from her boyfriend to occupy the second seat in the couch, that until that moment had remained untouched by the couple. Miroku on his part smiled quite smugly before raising his hand in an apologetic manner.

“I’m sorry we made you uncomfortable, Kagome. We still lose track of what’s around…” he turned to brush a lock from Sango’s face and tuck it behind her ear. “We haven’t get used to the pull being this strong…”

Kagome rolled her eyes. If she didn’t say something soon they were going to get lost in each other again.

Clearing her throat, she said excessively sweet, “So you wanted me to help you to do what exactly?”

Miroku looked at Kagome again. He didn’t stop touching Sango, his hand moved from her face to one of her hands as he focused his attention on Kagome. “I need your help finding a good place for a friend of mine.”

The woman in front of him nodded interested, her demeanor changing from annoyed to business-like. Miroku smiled. She wasn’t one of the best realtors in the city just because of her looks. She was a very intelligent woman and charming too… when she wanted at least.

Kagome took the note pad that was on the stand beside her chair and started to take notes. “Very well, what kind of house is he looking for?”

Miroku shrugged “He has no money problems, so you can show him all the great places you said I had no business even looking at… And he has a dog so you need to take that in consideration… let me think what else.”

Kagome wrote on her notepad before looking at him with narrowed eyes and an arched brow “I told you that because you said you wanted the cheapest you could get but you wanted mirrors on the ceiling, a pool and jacuzzi… all of those things in an apartment.” Kagome deadpanned at her shamelessly grinning friend.  

“Sorry. Champagne tastes on a beer budget…” Miroku shrugged again as the two women smiled and shook their heads.

“So, do you have any more information about what he wants?”

Miroku shook his head as he searched for something inside his pocket and gave it to her.

“This is his contact…”

Kagome reached for the piece of paper and read it out loud. “Inuyasha Takahashi. E-mail: the.Inugami@gmail.com and his phone number. The guy lives by his name, huh.”

Miroku chuckled “You have no idea…”

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Fic, Bruised Ego

On the downside, I think I’m coming down with a cold. On the upside, my writer’s block isn’t as bad anymore. I’m a bit suspicious because it isn’t usually over this fast, but whatever.

Okay, so yesterday in my creative slump fueled rage, I wrote a horrid bit of angst and hurt Morality really bad, and @remmythepegasis said that after reading that they need some fluff. Well, I’m not that great at writing fluff. I’m more of an angst/bittersweet type of guy, but I think I’ve been putting too much dark content out there lately, what with the nightmare stuff, frustrating poor Logan, and breaking Patton into bloody pieces, so I’m gonna try to lighten the mood a bit.

Tag list: @yep-another-fander @prinxiety-logality-sanders-sides @ts-sideblog @cherrybonesrh13 @sanderssideblog @shit-happens-bitchachos @toxicsanders @tssanderssidestrash @livenarrator

Warnings? I don’t think there are any. Maybe mention of bruises if you’re bothered by that sort of thing. 687 words.

Abstract: Patton taking care of Roman after a particularly embarrassing stage mistake.

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#92 - For isle-of-flightless-josh & vanswritings

Filling the prompts “can you write Single dad Van? Taking his 5, 6 years old daughter on tour with him? And maybe him taking her to meet the reader for the first time?” from @isle-of-flightless-josh and “Can you write about Van as a dad ?” from @vanswritings

Note: ONE FOR MY GIRLSSSS! This is a long one - about 4,500 words. Also, I really like this one so if you do too, pls let me know! 


You walked around the corner of the hallway and stopped in your tracks. There was a child standing in the middle of the room, looking around confused. She was in teeny tiny jeans, and her tshirt had little cats and love hearts printed on it. Her brown hair was a mess and she was barefoot. She looked up at you with big blue eyes. You could see she was upset, but wasn’t at the crying stage just yet.

“Hey honey. Are you okay?” you asked, crouching down but not stepping closer to her. She closed the space herself, walking the few metres to stand right in front of you. She had freckles across her nose.

“I can’t find Daddy,” she told you. Her little face was contorted into the saddest expression you’d ever seen. She was holding her hands together, twisting her fingers in anxiety.

“Okay. We can find him. Can’t have gone far,” you said. She nodded. “Do you know Daddy’s name?”

“Daddy,” she replied. It was cute, but you didn’t laugh at her.

“What do other grown-ups call him?” you tried again.

“Van.”

A convenient coincidence. You hadn’t met him yet, but you knew Van. You were on your way to a meeting to lay out the plan for their tour. Their usual tour manager, Mike, wasn’t available. You were handed Catfish and the Bottlemen, and the opportunity to prove you could run a really fucking successful string of shows.

"I know exactly where he is. Let’s go,” you told her standing up. She held up both hands, and you realised she wanted to be picked up. You complied, and sat her on your hip. She cuddled into you. The kid was clearly used to strangers and you didn’t know if that was good or bad. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Dylan.”

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Impatient

SPN Prompt Challenge | hunterangelkisses
January 2017 (Emotions)
Prompt: Patience
Pairing: Destiel
Word Count: 4,596
Tags: fluff, angst for like a second, brief and mild smut, alternate universe, strangers to friends to lovers, first kiss, 5+1 things, time skips, wedding, adoption

[AO3]

I.

“C’mon, Charlie, I’ll race ya!”

Dean took off from his front porch as soon as his mom had placed a quick kiss to the top of his head, running through their yard toward the street corner as fast as he could. He was almost there when he turned to see if Charlie Bradbury, his next-door neighbor and best friend since they were toddlers, was catching up. She was one of the fastest runners in their grade and even with his head start, she wouldn’t have much trouble beating him. Charlie was still several feet behind him though, and Dean had just turned forward again when he hit something – hard.

Dean fell to the ground with a thump, wincing at the sharp pain in his backside. He heard his mom call to him, asking if he was okay, but he was distracted by what he’d run into – or rather, who. Because there, splayed out on the ground in front of him, was a dark-haired boy he’d never seen before, wiping grass off his hands and reaching over to pick up the book he’d apparently dropped.

“Who are you?” Dean asked curiously.

The boy turned his gaze to Dean, who was distracted for a second by his eyes – which were brilliantly, brightly blue. “I’m Castiel,” the boy said, climbing to his feet. He held out a hand to pull Dean up just as Charlie, Dean’s mom, and another woman Dean had never seen before reached them.

“Are you two all right?” Mary asked the boys, swiping a bit of dirt from Dean’s arm.

“We’re fine,” Dean said, picking up his backpack from where it had fallen behind him. “Sorry I ran into you,” he said to Castiel, who gave him an easy smile back.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I wasn’t looking anyway.”

“This is why you shouldn’t read while you walk, Castiel,” the other woman admonished, but her tone was more amused than anything.

“And you, Dean,” Mary said, “need to remember that not everything is a race.”

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anonymous asked:

*whispers into the void* please do that fan fiction about Saeran taking care of a drunk MC please

A/N I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG WRITING FOR SAERAN IS SOOO HARD FOR ME EVEN THOUGH HE’S MY FAV. SPOILER FOR SEVEN’S ROUTE it’s important that you’re all aware that saeran and saeyoung grew up with an alcoholic, abusive mother. That’s more or less the basis for this fic/scenario/thing?? Also it’s.. pretty cheesy… I tried my best to avoid that but I’ve been reading WAY too much chicklit…
-mod cozy <3


TW: mentions of alcohol

WC: 1591.. I think

Title: ???


        Saeran had never been a fan of crowds. Not when he was little, not in mint eye, not now; tonight, however, felt different. The same sinking feeling and ever-present anxiety coursed through his veins, the same idle chat surrounded him which caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up, and the same unnatural smiles and cordial ‘How are you?’s to which he replied with a curt nod as he kept walking. He somehow felt proud though. Proud of the party he had helped organize now that he joined the RFA. After all the wrong he had committed, he finally felt as if he’d done something worthwhile. The fact that it was with people he had come to—reluctantly trust just made the experience even better, he felt his lips twitch up slightly in the beginnings of a smile as he pulled at his slightly uncomfortable collar.
        “Saeran! You’re finally here!” He spotted you running towards him with a one arm raised in a wave and the other holding your dress a few centimeters off the ground. Without his permission, his lips stretched into a grin at the sight of you.
        At some point, around halfway through the party’s auction, crystal glasses filled with and reeking of some elegant, over-sweetened fruit and alcohol concoction began to be passed around—Jaehee’s plan to get a little more money out of the attendees. Saeran shifted uncomfortably, having lost you, his sense of security in this foreign scenario, in the crowd after the first picture was displayed for sale. He turned to leave the hall when he spotted the back of your head near the door, giggling at something a very inebriated Zen said and running your hand from his forearm to his shoulder. Saeran felt a twinge that made its way from his heart to his throat, causing him to furrow his brows and change direction to stomp over to you.
        “MC, we’re leaving.” He stated as he grabbed your arm that had been hanging off Zen’s neck only seconds earlier.
        “Saerannn are you trying to take me home or something?” The question was innocent enough but the smell of alcohol wafting from your soft lips and the drunken wink you sent him suggested otherwise.
        “MC, are you drunk?” He knew the answer but he released your arm and took a step back, glaring at you angrily. He felt betrayed in all honesty, you were one of the few people he had told about his upbringing and though he knew you meant no harm by the alcohol you consumed, it still brought back painful memories, ones that he didn’t want attached to someone so kind and loving and earnest. Someone like you. He turned a little, prepping to leave, to avoid seeing you like this and to forget it every happened. Unfortunately, Zen blew a no doubt alcohol-induced kiss to you, followed by a wave and charming wink to which you responded with a giggle. This prompted Saeran to reclaim the arm he had been holding and continue to leave the auction hall with you trailing behind him.
        He had driven to the party alone, and therefore decided it would be best to take you back to the house he and Saeyoung shared for the time being. He couldn’t help but replay the thought of you and Zen together over and over in his mind, and your not-so-subtle come-ons were definitely not helping. By the time you’d arrived, his face was red with both anger and embarrassment.
You both stepped inside—well, he stepped and you wobbled, clutching his upper arm tightly for support. The fact that (a drunk) you could feel his biceps beneath his sleeves was just a bonus. One that you were not afraid to mention to him in your current alcohol-induced state.
        “You know you have reaaallly nice arms, you should get this shirt off or something so I can see them.” You slurred your words and blinked slowly. Saeran felt his cheeks heat up once again and tugged at his collar before turning to face you.
        “MC, please just, stop talking for a bit okay? You aren’t you you’re…” He trailed off and help his head in his hands with a sigh. He just wanted tonight to be over in all honesty, he never wanted to revisit his past again. Especially not with you, especially not when he started to feel better about himself, and especially not when he began to open his heart again. Unfortunately, we he reached for his head, you were forced to let go of the arm you had been feeling up causing you to not-so-gracefully hit the ground, just barely catching yourself with your hands and giggling despite it.
        Saeran reluctantly removed his hands from his face and looked at down at you, reaching his arm out once more to help lift you up. You continued to laugh and he smiled and began to join in, it was just too infectious. He made you gulp down a glass of water and you thanked him with a smile before promptly falling asleep on his couch the second his head was turned. He draped a blanket over your sleeping form and brush your tangled hair from your face before sleeping on the chair across from you, afraid of the effects the alcohol would have when you woke up. He had spent much of his life witnessing hangovers first hand and decided it would be best to be there when you woke up.



        “Ugggh.” 
        “It’s your fucking fault for having fifteen plus martinis.”
        “Did I really?”
        “I have no clue, you walked away and when I found you, you were downing some disgusting red thing and feeling Zen up like a horny teenager.”
        “I’m really sorry you had to see me like that Saeran.” His expression softened a little “But Zen? If anyone I thought it’d be…” You trailed off and realized your mistake, covering your mouth. You and Saeran had woken up at around the same time—or it would be more accurate to say that you had woken him up with the loud groan that had come out of your mouth when you opened your eyes to a searing headache and semi-familiar room. You had been to the Choi boy’s residence on multiple occasions but definitely weren’t expecting to wake up there.
        Saeran had texted Seven, who hadn’t arrived home yet and discovered he had spent the night at a very light-weighted Yoosung’s house leaving the two of you alone. Unfortunately, only one of you knew how to cook and that one was more or less incapable of doing anything, save for rolling around a little and complaining. The two of you were now eating bowls of mint ice cream and watching Winnie the pooh after you’d showered, brushed your teeth, and borrowed some of Saeran’s smaller clothes to which he responded with a smirk and uncharacteristically quiet “They suit you”.
         “You thought it’d be who.” He stated more so than asking before you could think of a distraction or at least attempt to change the subject. You deliberately placed your half-full bowl on the coffee table, knowing there were only two ways out of this: confess, or run. You obviously chose the latter.
        You sprinted behind the kitchen counter, Saeran following in suit before realizing you had trapped yourself. Not only that, but running had only increased his curiosity and unfortunately for you he had much longer legs. You jumped the counter as Saeran closed in on you and ran back over to the couch, positioning yourself on the other side and he followed to your left, causing you to leg it to the right and make a dash towards the hallway. You turn to see how close Saeran is and your foot catches on a wire, due to your excessive clumsiness, you begin to fall and reach your hands out to catch yourself.
        You can’t decide whether it’s fortunate or not for Saeran to catch you in that moment and turn you to face him in one quick movement. He’s holding you tightly to his chest and your arms are trapped between the two of you with his encircling your waist.
       “Okay yeah, yeah I know I’m a clutz can ya let me go?” You feel your face heat up and try to keep your voice from wavering.
       “Not until you tell me.” He tightened his grip further.
       “Tell you what?” You attempted to play coy, a last resort when you were lying which Saeran knew about completely.
        “Don’t bullshit me MC.” He pulled away so he was still holding you tightly but there was just enough space to stand face to face, his eyes piercing into yours and causing you to look down.
        “I was gonna say you…” You mumbled, praying that he couldn’t hear and would let you go. Your hopes were dashed when you looked up to a blushing Saeran with a light smile on his face. Before you had time to defend yourself, he tilted your chin up and brought your lips to his.
        The kiss was broken before you could even really process what was happening when a jolt of pain ran through your head and you pulled away with a pained gasp. Saeran released you and took a hold of your hand, dragging you to the kitchen.
       “W-what are you doing?” You asked, dazed and with your other hand resting on your pounding forehead.
      “You need an aspirin. We’ll finish that later.” Oh.

Hostage

Pairing: FakeAH!Michael Jones x Reader

Word Count: 1,757

Warnings: Swearing, PTSD

Part Three (One) (Two)


As your eyes slowly fluttered open, the first thing you noticed was the smell; something comforting and so very familiar, something quite different from what you had grown used to over the past few days. You noticed the softness of the comforter that enveloped you, and how you felt somewhat numb all over, then the faint sound of music from another room. It wasn’t until you glanced around the room that you saw the layout of what seemed to be a bedroom, the dull light of a lamp bouncing off the muted grey walls

And then you saw him.

Sitting cross legged beside you on the queen-sized bed, fingers clenched around an energy drink and eyes heavy-lidded, Michael definitely looked worse for wear. His clothes and hair were clean, though, so someone was making sure he’d at least somewhat taken care of himself. “Michael,” you murmured softly, you voice so hoarse it was almost silent.

It was enough to grab his attention though, and pull him out of the half-asleep state he was in, eyes wide and alert as his head almost snapped turning to face you. “Holy shit,” his voice was barely a whisper, and he stayed still for a moment, almost as if in shock, before moving to cup your face gently. “(Y/n), I— fuck, I was so worried,” he leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I was so goddamn afraid we wouldn’t make it in time, I was so fuckin scared, I—” he paused, taking the time to kiss away the tears along your cheekbones. “Holy shit,” somehow his voice was even softer, “you’re here, you’re alive, you—”

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