i will one day know how to pin curl my hair properly

Just A Friend

This is a total new thing I’m trying to do. Although I have done preferences before, I’ve never actually written completely from a character’s perspectives. I hope you guys like it and please don’t hesitate to tell me if you guys want a part two with Derek, Isaac, and Peter. P.S.

Reader X Teen Wolf Guys
Song inspo:
Just A Friend by Mario
Oh baby you (oh baby you)
Got what I need (got what I need)
But you say I’m just a friend (say I’m just a friend)
But you say I’m just a friend
Cos I can be your (cos I can be your)
Fantasy
But you say I’m just a friend (say I’m just a friend)
But you say I’m just a friend

Scott

Originally posted by atruealpha


Ever since that pretty girl came to school, my mind has gone haywire. It’s like I can’t focus because I’m subconsciously looking for her in the hallways, at lunch, and in the library. I can’t help it, her scent is intoxicating. Whenever I’m around her, the alpha can’t control itself. I can feel it trying to claw out of my stomach and pounce on her. Derek says it’s probably a hormonal imbalance but I know better. God, not even Allison made me feel the way I do now. Stiles, of course, already figured out that I was crushing on her hard.

“Dude, your eyes are glowing!” I shifted my attention to Stiles.
“What?”
“Your eyes! Make them go away!”
Her scent grew stronger as she walked in our direction. My breath heaved and my canines began to grow. What is happening to me? Stiles panicked and before she could get close, he shoved my head down and pushed me into an empty classroom. I dropped my bag onto the floor and tried to regain control. The wolf showed resistance. He wanted to do more than just ask Y/N on a date, it wanted to mate with her and make as many babies as possible and then some. A minute later and I was fine. Stiles stared at me with wide eyes. “What the hell was that?!” I came up with the only answer that seemed logical, “it’s a full moon tonight.” Stiles shook his head, I know he’s going to say something as-a-matter-of-fact like.
“Of all the full moons, you never glowed your eyes, grew fangs, and claws in the middle of the freaking day! What is going on, Scott? Is it Y/N?”
“It’s her scent. The alpha in me is apparently attracted to it.”
“Well tell your alpha to cool it”
“Sorry”

The pack sat at lunch but this time it wasn’t about the supernatural. We had real conversations and a lot of memory reminisces. A familiar smell tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to see Y/N walking towards our table. I gave her a smile. Stiles slid closer to Lydia so that Y/N and I were practically alone.
“Are you okay, Scott? You’re not sick, are you?”
“No, I, uh, I had a bad, reaction”
“You suck at lying but I’ll let it pass”
My lips instantly curled up into a smile. This girl just might be how I die. I think I would be okay with that. After lunch, we walked in the hallway just talking about what’s on our mind. You can do this Scott. I took a deep breath and took her hands in mine. “There’s a dance tonight, and I would love it if you went with me.” Y/N smiled and hugged me tightly. “I would love to go with my cute best friend!” My heart sank at the word friend. Y/N pulled away to kiss my cheek, “I’ll see you tonight.” Just like that Y/N was gone and the wolf inside me howled in discontent. I don’t want to be cute or a friend.

Stiles

Originally posted by omglanafsog


“Y/N!”
Y/N ran around upstairs toward my room. She was a little faster than I expected her to be. I nearly fell off the couch trying to jump over it and give her chase. Y/N has been hanging out at my place very often lately. She swiped my key and fashioned herself a one since she’s always around. She snatched my phone and was reading my messages. Scott and I were recently talking about her and if she knows, I’ll die of embarrassment.
Y/N stood in the middle of my room, smiling as she read my texts. I had to wheeze once I got in my doorway. “Y/N (gasp) give me (gasp) my phone.” Y/N tapped her cheek with a finger, obviously thinking about it. “I think I’ll pass, maybe I should read Scott’s texts.” Forget about my barely breathing, I lunged for her, knocking her onto the bed. Y/N tried to crawl for the phone but I grabbed her legs and plopped my body on top of hers. She grabbed my arms, pushing it down so I wouldn’t reach; I was stronger. I pinned her arms above her head and pushed her into the mattress, “Stop.” Just as I got control, my dad walked in and took in the scene before him. It looked bad, I held her hands above her head, our legs were intimately entwined, and I was out of breath. “Uh, Stiles, can I talk to you? If you’re not… Busy.” I hopped away from Y/N and we both straightened ourselves.
My dad and I headed downstairs so he could talk to me properly.

“Is she…Are you…That’s a girl”
“Yes, she’s is that of the female species within the human race”
“Wow, are you using protection?”
“Whoa, Dad! No, that’s not, Jesus…”
“So it’s not that kind of relationship?”
“Not at all”
“So you’re in the friend zone?”
“Why would you say that?”
“The two of you are all touchy feely, I assume that’s the girl who comes over religiously but you haven’t done the dirty Harry and I bet you haven’t kissed either, you’re in the friend zone.”
“I’m not in the–”
Y/N came downstairs, interrupting the conversation.
“I have to go, goodbye Sheriff, bye BESTIE!”
The door closed leaving a silence in the room.
Stilinski looked at Stiles and crossed his arms.
“I am so in the friend zone”
He patted Stiles and shoulder as he passed him to go to the kitchen, “yep”

Liam

Originally posted by teenwolf--imagines


Stiles went on and on about a movie he’d recently seen when I saw her.
It was like one of those epic movie moments where the hot girl walks into a room and music starts playing in the background.
Behind the camera is someone holds a fan to make it seem like her hair is flying in an angelic way.
Y/N was that hot girl.
She was so gorgeous in anything and everything she did.
If I could just get a chance with her. Never mind, I’d probably screw it up. Besides, she was so out of my league.

“Liam, do you have any Idea what polycarbonate bonds do?”
I slammed my head on the table and shook my head no.
“I’m going to fail this test”
“You need a tutor”
“Great, Mason. Do you happen to have one on speed dial? No? That’s what I thought. Look, I’m gonna head on home. Catch you later”

I ran down the stairs to open the door.
When I did, I closed the door shut in a hurry and began breathing ecstatically.
I opened the door to reveal the truth, I had thought my mind was playing tricks on me because there she was; Y/N in all her glory.
“Do you do that to all the girls?”
I gave her an awkward chuckle and invited her in.

After working for a while, I had to ask.
“How is this possible?”
“How is what possible?”
“You”
Y/N laughed and I thought my heart exploded and flatlined.
“You see, when a mommy and daddy love each other…”
“I mean, why are you here tutoring me”
“Oh, your friend Mason said you needed help”
“Can I marry you?”
I facepalmed myself for thinking out loud. Y/N, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying herself. She kissed me on the corner of my mouth and gave me one of the sweetest smiles on the planet.
“I’m sorry. You seem more like someone I would be friends with but if it gets to that point, why not?”
I silently cheered at my success.
I wasn’t the guy who just knew Y/N, I’m her friend.

anonymous asked:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re getting WHAT?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When Gladio saw you, his jaw slowly dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

14 Days - Part Two

(Reader x Pietro Maximoff)

Word Count: 1140

Summary: The reader’s best friend, Wanda, goes on a two week mission and leaves a list of tasks to be completed by the reader. Tasks 4 and 11.

Warnings: alcohol

A/N: i love writing this series so much, it’s seriously so fun. let me know what you think! <3

Masterlist | Previous


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Welcome Home.

A continuation of the Sonas/Happiness series which was last updated HERE. Please let me know your thoughts and I hope you enjoy it. The Voyager timeline goes a little wonky here so please excuse me, but I hope the overall story will be worth it :) Thank you, Han xxx

Jamie had been in Edinburgh for nearly three weeks. Fergus was perfectly capable of arranging for the printing press to be placed into storage but Jamie was adamant that he needed to be there to see that ‘she’ was handled delicately.

Claire, now rather heavily pregnant, had decided to stay at Lallybroch rather than attempt the journey, much to Jamie’s evident relief.

“I’ll miss ye dreadfully Sassenach, but it willna take more than a month I shouldna think. Once she is safely stored I will ride like the Devil himself to get back to ye.”

He had promised and Claire had waved him off with a cheerful intonation not to get stabbed, arrested or shot on his travels.

“At least try not to!”

“I make no promises, but aye, I’ll try!”

Jamie had grinned, blowing her a kiss.

They had received no letters from either Jamie or Fergus over the weeks but whilst Claire longed to hear from her husband, she consoled herself that no news was most definitely good news!

Claire was in Jamie’s study reading one morning when she heard her name being called rather urgently from the hall and the sound of hurrying footsteps.

“Mrs Claire! Mrs Claire!”

She smiled and slowly, for there was no other way for her to do it, stood up. Rabbie McNab’s eldest boy, Ben, had been completely overwhelmed when informed that he could call Himself’s wife by her first name rather than ‘Mrs Fraser’ and though he had tried to accommodate her request, Mrs Claire was the closest he seemed able to get without blushing furiously.

“Ben! I’m in Jam … Himself’s study!”

She called.

“Mrs Claire there is a …”

“Ben, don’t shout through the door, come in!”

“Ah … Mrs Claire my boots my get mud on the carpet…”

Claire rolled her eyes and made her way toward the door herself. Though she reasoned that Ben had only been into the study once to the best of her knowledge, after him and another lad, whose name Claire could not remember had been caught raiding Jenny’s strawberry patch. She supposed that the experience had left him with a healthy dose of respect and caution regarding what might happen when summoned to the Lairds study.

Opening the door she looked down at his freckled face, eyes lit with excitement and smiled

“What is it, Ben?”

“I think Himself is home, Mrs Claire! My Da spotted a rider just like him in the distance and riding fast from the look of it.”

“Oh!”

Claire beamed and her hands flew to her hair, patting at the strands and curls that had escaped her pins that morning.

“Should I ask Mrs Murray to set out some breakfast?”

Ben asked, having delivered his message he was now clearly eager to be dashing off on the next errand.

“Yes, please do. And Ben, thank you for coming to find me so swiftly, you really are an excellent messenger.”

The boy’s cheeks flushed with praise and he bobbed his head shyly, mumbling a thank you before tearing off to the kitchen.

Claire hurried, as best she could, to her bedroom and hastily fixed her hair and pinched a little colour into her cheeks, it was daft she knew, but she wanted Jamie to come home to her in a suitable state, not looking frazzled and pale and as though she was about to burst out of her dress. The dress she could do little about, the babe was growing bigger by the day and Jenny had altered Claire’s dresses as much as she could without butchering them completely but the fabric still strained in places.

“You haven’t changed much in three weeks Beauchamp! Stop being ridiculous.”

Claire admonished herself and took a deep breath to steady her nerves.

It was the first little separation they’d had since her return. Three weeks wasn’t that long and Claire had certainly had enough to keep herself busy but she couldn’t deny that there had been a tight little knot of anxiety in her chest since Jamie had been gone and she would feel better once he was home. Claire needed to know that he would return, to know that he could return, and that they would not be lost to each other again.

She exhaled slowly and resolved not to throw herself at her husband too wildly the second his boots touched Lallybroch earth.

Claire made her way downstairs and stepped out into the courtyard. She could hear hoof beats and her heart hammered in rhythm. She smoothed the front of her dress and lifted her chin as the horse nosed around the bend in the road.

Sunlight glinted from auburn hair, sending shoots of ruby and copper dancing through the lengths which caught on the breeze. Slanted blue eyes, widened and a full lipped mouth curved into a delighted smile at the sight of Claire.

“MAMA!”

Brianna dismounted before the horse had fully stopped and staggered towards Claire, tears already streaming down her face.

“Bree? Oh my God! BREE!”

Claire lunged forward and grasped her daughter, pulling her close. They clung to each other, crying and laughing at once, their embrace as tight as it could be considering Claire’s belly between them. Finally, Claire thrust Brianna back to look at her properly.

“What are you doing here? Are you alright?”

“There was a fire  … there will be a fire … in America …”

Bree shook her head to clear the jumble of thoughts and wiped her sleeve under her nose. Claire dashed her own sleeve across her cheeks and sniffed heavily.

“Mama, are you … you’re pregnant?”

Brianna’s eyes had widened further and Claire touched her swollen belly self-consciously.

“I am. It wasn’t planned. I mean, of course I’m happy but it … we …”

Claire closed her eyes and squeezed Brianna’s hand tightly in her own.

“Later. We can talk about this later, I want to hear about you.”

Brianna looked as if she would far rather hear about her mother’s pregnancy but obligingly filled Claire in on what she had found and what had prompted her to come through the stones. As she spoke, Claire watched her face and felt love envelope her heart so tightly she felt like she could hardly breathe.

She had always seen Bree’s similarity to her father, anyone could see it, but having Bree here … Claire swallowed heavily.

“So I guess at some point you and … ah … Jamie will move to America.”

Brianna spread her hands before her and shrugged.

“We haven’t got any plans to but …”

Claire waved the consideration away

“I am so, so glad you are here, baby. I have missed you so much.”

“I missed you too Mama. Is he here? Jamie?”

Claire’s hand flew to her mouth. She had been so caught up in her own joy of seeing Brianna she had not even thought about Jamie meeting his daughter.

“He’s in Edinburgh at the moment, actually someone thought you were him and told me he was home.”

“Oh.”

Claire couldn’t tell if Bree looked more relieved or disappointed.

“Meeting you will mean the world to him, Bree.”

Bree smiled slightly but a small frown still creased her brow,

“Mama, I don’t want to … you and Jamie … I don’t want to intrude. I just wanted to warn you and make sure you’re safe and I’ve done that. If you think I should go…”

Claire felt guilt stab at her. That she had left Brianna with any doubt about just how much Jamie had loved her, had wanted her, right from the start was a terrible oversight on her part and one that she intended to fix immediately.

“Bree, you’re our child. You are my child! Of course I don’t want you to go and Jamie … Jamie will be delighted to meet you. I have told him so much about you, he wanted to know everything!”

“He did?”

This time the relief in her voice was so obvious

“Of course he did and now you are here. This is your place as much as it is mine, Brianna.”

Claire stroked a thumb over her daughter’s high left cheekbone and cupped her cheek gently.

“Welcome home, baby.”

{ five’s company // ch. 25 }

tags:  @max-evergreen @fangirlwithasweettooth @smolmaxi13 @amazing-5sos-inof @yournotsosimpledemon @aceattorneytrash8 @arissanoddle @vengessdevin @thenoveljunkie @addiethequeen4 @star-trek-supernatural @ladyliberty7476 @mikeywayisapegasus @imalittlebean @littleblue5mcdork @demi-godamit @dilsphan1029 @patron-saintof-sluts  @toonerzchatz @promisesandmore @iamnotthrowingawaymyshit @itsallexmallory @itsallexwriting @impala-moose @jaydiggs1218 @fierydaemon @slightlysouless @jzzyjones @wiindmill @whitestorm547 @hamilturnt @littleblue5mcdork @arostrolgy @mcgrammer15 @fanagelbagel @moonchildcharm @itsareyouforreal @sweaterkitty-fluff @theoverlordofeverything @laurenshtml @lawnmowerswig @lafeyettegunsandships @silvershadow56 @goldensabriel  @kanadianwithashippingproblem @picklessfights @hamiltrash-life @sadeyestommo @dont-be-petty-be-peggy @thedevilopposedmyaddictions @chipslaylove  @spacenerd3 @onelastfic @zappyheart @mycroftswife  @hamrevolution @alienboymax  @kbgw1233-blog @pretztato-cake @aprilyn

t/w: none!

a/n: and as i was writing the final chapter of five’s company, i learn “mon cher” means my darling in french but it’s used when speaking to men. my heart dropped. i have failed all you ladies lol!

on a more serious note, i say this. here we are. chapter twenty-five. the end of five’s company. the end of an era. 

thank you all so much for reading this little story. i’m so thankful for the friendships i’ve made as i’ve written this story and just the love i’ve received from each and everyone of you. thank you for the messages, all the notes, all the reblogs. all the screaming (because ch. 13 was a mess) and all the compliments. my heart is so full. from the bottom of my heart, i say thank you thank you thank you. 

enjoy.

inbox || masterlist


chapter twenty-five.

“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” 

“Hi! Good morning, baby boy.” You smiled warmly. 

Alex held a squirming Ezra in his arms. He walked over to the bed so Ezra could properly greet the four of you. Ezra stretched his arms out when he was close enough to you. You caught him with ease and peppered kisses all over his face.

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kitsunesongs  asked:

Obi-Wan is the chosen one of light, as Anakin is the chosen one of balance, and Palpatine is the chosen one of darkness - it results in every darksider being obsessed with him. Everyone. They're all trying to capture and turn him, or just keep him, not kill him...every darksider ever/Obi-Wan + Very Over protective of HIS Master!getting close to the darkside!Anakin/Obi-Wan.

“…And you’re telling us they showed up out of the blue. Just…in the area?” Mace stared at the knight/padawan duo, brows raised to his none existent hair with the sun shining on his scalp.

“Yes Master Windu.” Obi-Wan shifted a bit. “Both Maul and Savage appeared about two days into my mission though they did not approach. Anakin had left surveillance though in our quarters and they did break a entry,”

Obi-Wan’s face was a mask a serenity he did not feel.

And his padawan’s face was an open book of close to combustion emotions of a large and varied nature.

“And in your rooms what want did they?” Yoda’s ears twitched a bit, his own brows raised as he flickered his eyes between them.

Now there was a reaction, the tips of Obi-Wan’s ears were turning red and Anakin’s face turned into a scowl.

“Ah, that is, Maul…”

“He wanted to sniff Obi-Wan’s clothes.” Anakin SCOWLED. The glower wasn’t really directed at anyone but he was clearly unhappy.

Obi-Wan swallowed a bit as you could hear a pin drop in the council room, Mace brows climbing his face along with Yoda’s ears rising…and was Plo and Ka-Adi trading credits?

“Yes…that…and he…stole my underwear.” He coughed a bit and then shifted a bit when Mace eyes dropped to his groin. “My spares that is… that’s…all they did.”

“They left behind chocolate for Master.” Anakin offered behind, his seventeen year old padawan sounding like he had found a particular stupid problem in a droid circuit.

“Technically we can’t prove that were them and we threw those away.” Obi-Wan offered meekly.

“We…see.” Mace offered faintly. “…Is this another Xanatos situation Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan shrugged a bit.

“Or a Vos one? Please tell me its the latter, tha-”

“I don’t think Zabrak sith brothers count anywhere near Vos. We’re more likely looking at a Xanatos situation…” Obi-Wan shifted a bit then shrugged. “I am however a Jedi and an adult now, there is a difference from back then.”

“Back then you also had the protection of your Master.” Plo pointed out calmly.

Obi-Wan bowed his head a bit before turning his head to look at his padawan. “I’m not alone.” He smiled a bit at the blond.

()()()

“Did you have to tell them about the clothes sniffing? That was embarrassing Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed as he accepted a cup of tea from the blond, the older man feeling a slight wave of exhaustion settle into his limbs.

“Yes, they needed to know.” Anakin scowled before his face smoothed out in a worried little frown. “Master, they’re dangerous, the council needs to know if their operatives are in danger of a damn kidnapping.” He settled down beside the other and rested his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, watching him sip the tea he had prepared.

This close, nerves eased out and Anakin felt like he could breath, Obi-Wan not in danger of being taken away by some stupid Zabrak. Watching those stupidly elegant hands curled around the pink tinged cup as Obi-Wan enjoys the tea Anakin has both given to the other and made this day.

“…You’re right. Of course you are Anakin. I just…this is really getting out of hand.” Obi-Wan let out a frustrated little noise before smiling when his taller then himself padawan nuzzled at his shoulder.

Somewhere around Anakin’s fifteen year the other had instead of continuing to pull away from Obi-Wan in an effort to be taken serious, gotten closer, curled against Obi-Wan in an almost needy manner.

Unusual as it was, Obi-Wan couldn’t say it didn’t make him feel wanted by his padawan at least a little. Just someone who wanted him. “But away from such matters, the Council briefed me on our next mission. We’ve been personally requested to escort the Chancellor during a fundraising party for single parents.”

Unhappiness zigzagged through the Force and Obi-Wan paused mid sip to look at Anakin, raising his brow.

“…I don’t like how he looks at you that’s all.”

“How he looks at me?” Obi-Wan laughed quietly. “Who?”

“The Chancellor.” Anakin muttered.

With a little long suffering sigh, Obi-Wan shifted enough to look at his padawan properly. “What do you mean Anakin? I thought you liked the Chancellor?”

The blond rubbed the back of his neck. “I used to but…every time you’re around he looks at you and the way he looks at you…” He pursed his lips up and his eyes narrowed a bit with a deep furrow between his brows.

“Yes?” The Jedi Master gently probed.

“…He looks like he wants to own you. Possess you. Dominate…it…it reminds me of Tatooine.” Anakin finally got out.

“Oh Anakin.” The Master settled his cup on the table and reached out, pulling his padawan into his arms and rubbing his back. “The Chancellor does not own me. No one owns me.”

‘I do…kind of…or well you belong to me?’ Anakin thought sullenly as he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan and tucked his face into the others chest, settling slowly when the others hands continued to rub his back and neck with care.

Twining his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, he promised himself that he wouldn’t leave the other alone with the Chancellor.

Obi-Wan was his.

Now I Know The Truth

3k of PB&J in a Soulmate AU

For the 14 Days of Love Fic-a-thon hosted by @softkent

Also on AO3


Despite the stories spun by Hollywood, every person had multiple soulmates. Every person was born with a phrase tattooed on their bodies. For centuries, people believed it to be the last words your soulmate (singular) would ever say to you. This inspired fear in most and lead to stories such as Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet and Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights.

In the last five centuries, however, global travel revealed the existence of multiple soulmates for each person. Even more interesting, telecommunications proved that each soul mark is in fact much more nuanced than simply ‘last words’. The mark is meant to indicate the moment when everything changes. Sometimes that means hardships, separation, or death. But sometimes, the words can lead to something greater. If only the soulmates know how to navigate life and each other.

Bitty didn’t know about this technicality until he got to Samwell. Until Shitty and Lardo literally run into Camilla at Winter Screw and realize all three of their marks synch up. The phrase “1 in 4, maybe more” is very appropriate considering the high percentage of soulmates that meet multiple partners at Samwell.

He tries to be happy for them as they fall into each other. He ignores the way Ransom, Holster, March and April circle around each other, avoiding the moment when they realize they’ve been in a relationship forever. He rolls his eyes when Ollie and Wicks sneak behind the docks before games to kiss their boyfriend, a Chad, for good luck. But Bitty thinks it’s sweet nonetheless.

He isn’t even jealous when Chowder breaks up a fight between Nursey and Dex saying “I love you, but this has got to stop.” Which just so happens to be Nursey’s phrase. And much later when Dex tells Chowder “you mean more to me than a stupid fight.” He’s happy for them. Especially when they meet Farmer and she ticks off every one of their phrases by the time their Frog year is over.

He doesn’t believe it’s gonna happen for him. Not at Samwell at least. His phrase could be worse.

We’re a team is branded in small font on his wrist. It’s still customary to keep your phrase hidden from the public eye, so he wore wrist guards when it’s hot out and long sleeves at every other opportunity.

Bitty thinks that’s nebulous, but distinct enough that he’ll know it when he hears it. His words don’t come for quite some time. In the interim, he falls in love with Jack whose phrase is supposedly hidden somewhere near his torso. He doesn’t think much of it when he overhears Jack and Parse fighting during the Epikegster.

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Good Cannibal, Sit

This is my late (sorry) entry to @hannibalcreative‘s #ReleaseTheCrackin! It’s also dedicated to the ever wonderful @evertonem, because I promised her dog-related crack in the hopes of bringing some cheer. I hope you enjoy!

         In retrospect, Hannibal could admit that giving Will psilocybin mushroom tea might have been a bit of an overreaction. Will had been unusually quiet for days, and Hannibal had let fear, of another cliff or another person, get the better of him. He’d tried speaking to Will, but was greeted with eyerolls and the invitation to “shut his big bazoo”.

         Still, perhaps it wasn’t wise to drug the one you love. Will certainly hadn’t reacted well to the stabbings, so he probably wouldn’t react well to surreptitious hallucinogens. Hannibal made the decision to bring out a tray of goodies and replace Will’s tea with a slightly less nefarious chai blend. If Will wanted to be moody, then Hannibal would just have to let him.

         “Will?” Hannibal walked along the flagstones toward the patio that overlooked the Loire Valley, a tray of fresh blackberry jam and brown sugar scones in one hand.

         “Hey! Put that down!”

         Hannibal turned to see Will stomping toward him, stern expression on his face. With a raised brow, Hannibal took a few steps and placed the tray on their wrought iron table. When he turned, Will flicked him on the nose.

         “Bad! No stealing food!” Will swatted Hannibal on the ass. Hannibal opened his mouth to respond, but closed it when noticed Will’s empty teacup by the tray of scones. A hallucination then, but of who?

         Will looked at Hannibal for a long moment, something soft creeping into his eyes. Hannibal cocked his head taking in the expression. Will yanked Hannibal to his chest, his hands sinking into the doctor’s hair and scratching roughly.

         “God, I’ve missed you,” Will whispered into Hannibal’s disheveled locks. “Who’s my good boy? You are, Winston. You are!”

         “Will…” Hannibal tried to disentangle from Will’s grip. Clearly, he’d overestimated Will’s tolerance for the mushrooms. He should probably have him lay down and hydrate before dinner.

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Raven knew he knew who she was.

It was obvious, the way his stare would linger on the back of her head as she walked by him in the halls. The way his sentences would simply cut off the moment she stepped into view, and he would let his words hang in silence until she walked away.

[more under the cut]

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couple of horndogs, these two

oily massage turns in to an oily dickin’ (what a plot twist amirite?) ft. brotherly teasing

~1600 words (and minimal editing)


Thor admires his brother from behind as they dry themselves off after their bath. A smirk graces his face as Loki grimaces and hisses softly, his movements awkward and stiff after a long overdue bout in the sparring ring. He admires the bruises left scattered over his brother’s creamy skin, taking them in shamelessly and greedily, knowing that the potion Loki had put in their bath would make disappear within hours. The medicinal scent of it lingers in the muggy air, sitting in the back of his throat.

When Loki bends forward to pat the water off his bruised shins, Thor finds himself unable to resist the temptation his brother’s ass presents. He pulls his towel from where it’s wrapped low around his hips, sneaks up closer without a sound as he twirls the fabric between his hands.

The snap echos off the tiled walls. As does Loki’s high-pitched yelp and Thor raucous laughter.

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Life With Namjoon (04. Daybreak)

<– [01] [02] [03]

AN: I literally just whipped this up in about 3 hours, so….hopefully you all enjoy!

Also yes, there’s a some smut in this chapter. Y’all thirsty hoes better be quenched for a while.

Words: 2,486


04. Daybreak


Nearly more times than Namjoon can recall, you’ve been there for him. At the studio when he can’t tear himself away, after dance practice when he can barely move around without limping, in the late hours of the night when his darker thoughts get the best of him and he can’t find it in himself to shove them back into their hidden cage. You’re always there—or at least when life permits. You take care of him in both big and little ways. You make him meals—make sure he’s not working himself too hard. You listen to him when his worries slip off his tongue and spill into the room. You text him good night and good morning when he’s away—little “I love you’s” arriving via text at random times throughout the days, just to remind him that you’ve always got his back.

And he always has yours. It’s just…sometimes he’s bad at remembering to show you that he does. You know that he loves you. You know that you’re happy with Namjoon—happier than you’ve been with anyone else, but…when the days are long, and your boyfriend is busy with his responsibilities, you keep all of your worries to yourself. You lay in your bed at night, staring at the space where Namjoon should be laying, yet he’s not. Comebacks are exhausting, his schedule is packed, he wants to work on his mixtape, and is planning to do a V-live for fans when he’s got some time to spare. He wants to see you too, but you always tell him to put his job as an idol first. I’ll be fine, you habitually tell him with a smile, kissing him as he stands in the doorway to your apartment, his backpack on his shoulder and tired endearment in his gaze. Go be Rap Monster, I’ll be here if you need me.

But…sometimes you want Namjoon. Your Namjoon. You wish that he could read your mind—that he could know when you’re feeling lonely and need his support in return. Sometimes he’s oblivious about it—he can’t decipher the meaning behind brief texts, or a phone call with no voicemail following it. He assumes you butt dialed him on accident. If you wanted to talk you’d just talk to him, right?

Not exactly, you think, sighing to yourself as you curl around Namjoon’s vacant pillow, nuzzling your face against the soft fabric of the case. It’s not easy to just talk—not when you’re trying to put his needs first. Not when you’re trying to be an understanding and supportive girlfriend.

And that’s why you find yourself up at midnight on a Thursday, unable to sleep, your chest constricted with emotions that you’ve been holding in for too long. You want to grab onto Namjoon and tell him your worries—all your thoughts. His presence itself relaxes you—makes you feel safe and secure. But…it’s been too long. You feel terrible and needy for thinking that way—but it’s been two weeks. BTS had gone abroad for a few interviews and fanmeets. When they’d returned there had been award shows, which meant practice—for dances and speeches both. You and Namjoon had texted back and forth, but nothing could actually compare to talking face to face…and as a result, you’d sunken into the darkness a little. Your worries had gotten the best of you. You started to doubt yourself—your worth, if you’d done something wrong, if you could have done anything better, if you were doing the right thing—

Those kinds of thoughts had been eating at you for some time now…and finally, on a Thursday night, your phone unlocked and blaring white light up at your face, Namjoon’s contact readily available on screen, you decide that you can’t be alone with your thoughts anymore. With tears in your eyes, guilt eating at you for feeling the need to call Namjoon in the first place, you press the ‘call’ button and wait. On the forth ring Namjoon picks up, his voice scratchy with sleep.

Babe?”

You hold your breath, chest shaking. Fuck, why had you called? He had probably been sleeping, and now you’re just bothering him. Fuck—

Babe? You there?”

“I—,” you begin, but your voice wavers, and the weakness that resounds in your tone causes your throat to close. The line falls into silence, but after a second you here Namjoon shifting—sheets moving—and he speaks up, sounding much more awake.

Y/N? Are you ok?”

“No…,” is the only whispered word you can manage before a sob wracks your frame. You press your face farther into Namjoon’s pillow, phone forgotten on the sheets next to your head.

Fuck…babe, are you there? C’mon—I…do you want me to come over?” Namjoon pauses when you hiccup, and he imagines you shaking your head no, which only causes his heart to break more. “I don’t know what’s up but I’m coming over—”

“N-No,” you shake, trying to pull yourself together, but you still sound like a wreck. “You—you said you’ve got a f-flight at 10 tomorrow. Don’t bother with me—I—”

“I’m going to bother with you,” he interrupts, and you hear him awkwardly and hurriedly padding around his room. “You’re my girlfriend and I care about you—I’m coming over, ok?”

Just hearing Namjoon affirm his feelings about you has you breaking down all over again, and you barely manage a shaky “ok” to which Namjoon simply says that he’ll be over soon, and ends the call. 20 minutes later, you hear your apartment door jiggling, and after unlocking it, Namjoon steps inside.

“Babe?” he calls, voice tentative and worried. Your face is damp with shed tears, Namjoon’s pillow still tightly held in your grasp. You’re sure you look a mess, and you still feel terrible for having called him, yet even so you manage a little grunt, and after a few seconds your bedroom door creeps open.

Namjoon’s heart cracks at the sight of you, and he gently seats himself next to you on the bed, hand moving to rest on your hair. You let out a shaky breath, tears coming back to your eyes.

“Babe—”

“I’m sorry—,” you interrupt, voice hitching. “I’m sorry I called you. You’re so busy, I didn’t mean to wake you or anything. You shouldn’t have to worry about me—fuck—”

“Woah, hey, listen,” he interrupts you, shushing you gently as his hand begins petting over your soft hair. “I wasn’t sleeping, and so what if I’m busy? I still care about you, Y/N…I know I’m not as good as you at showing how much I love you, but you mean the world to me, so…you can talk to me, you know? What’s going on, baby?”

“Why do you even love me?” you say quietly, curling in on yourself, voice calm, yet Namjoon can see your chest shaking. “I’m…a mess. I’m so sorry, Namjoon, I just…I don’t even know anymore…”

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Past and Future

So @shepherd-hunt/@omeliafics asked for something angst involving Megan Hunt, PTSD, comforting Amelia and her Unicorn Baby, so I took advantage of the shitty mood I’ve been feeling lately to write it.

This is probably the most emotional fic I’ve ever written and also the longest… There were just too many feelings and it was really hard for me to put it all into words.

Hope you all like this // Previous fics can be found here (x)


She found him in an on-call room.

It was dark inside, his back was facing the door and she could hear him muttering something, though she was having trouble understanding the exact words.

“Owen?”

“Where is she? Where is she? Where is she?”

She walked around him, now facing him, and could see the tears running down his face. His entire face was frowned, the lines on his skin more evident than ever. His whole body was shaking and sweating. He look like he was in so much pain, she just wanted to take it all away.

“Owen?” She was standing right in front of him and looking him in the eye, but he kept looking ahead, as if he was staring right through her, as if he hadn’t realized she was even there.

“I have to find her! I have to find her! I have to-“

Amelia reached up to cup his wet cheek and called for him with the smoothest voice possible, failing to hide the worry, “Owen!”

Next thing she knew, she was being pinned against the wall, his strong hands tightening around her arms, lifting her from the floor.

“We have to find her!” Owen was no longer muttering, he was now shouting.

Amelia loved him, and most importantly she knew him, all of him. There was no way he’d ever hurt her, but the situation they were currently in was scary, nonetheless.

“Owen!” The grip on her arms kept tightening, “Look at me Owen!”, she shouted.

Suddenly, it was like he snapped out of it.

“Amelia?” He set her down and could see the fear in her face. Amelia flinched away from him, rubbing her arms, which were surely going to have bruises soon. “Amelia, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“Amelia, I’m- I’m sorry, you know I’d never hurt you.” His breathing was still erratic.

“Owen, you were having a PTSD episode.”

“No, no, that was nothing.” He tried to deny it, but as always, Amelia saw right through him.

“How long have you been having them?”

“It’s not- I’m fine.”

“How long?!”

“Damn it Amelia! I told you it wasn’t PTSD!” he screamed, took a deep breath and tried again in a softer voice, “I’m fine. Just leave it alone…”

“Owen, just talk to me, I-“

“Like you talk to me?”

The room became silent.

That was a low blow, but with the way things have been between them lately, all was fair. They didn’t really know where the lines were anymore.

Amelia decided to ignore his jab, “Was it about Megan?”

“Why did you run away?” he threw back at her as a response.

Amelia shook her head in clear disappointment. She just wanted to help him and make him feel better. And deep down she knew it was a little hypocritical of her to be mad at him for refusing her help, especially when she’d been practically ignoring him for quite a while now and shutting down every attempt he made of getting her to open up.

“I’m not gonna force you to talk. You know where I am when you feel like it.” Amelia already had her hand on the door handle when his voice stopped her.

“There was this patient…” Owen cleared his throat and continued his sentence once she turned to face him. “It was around the time you were on leave. There was this guy who came in, he was disoriented and dehydrated and kept asking for a woman, saying he was looking for her and had to find her.”

Amelia took a seat next him, on the uncomfortable bed, and took his hand in hers.

“We hooked him to an IV and gave him a sedative. I came back the next day, checked on him and found him awake and lucid. And we talked.”

“What did you talk about?”, Amelia asked softly.

“His sister.” Owen paused and swallowed hard, “He was looking for his sister. He told me he was around 17 when he lost her. He went to the park to meet with some friends and his little sister wanted to go too, you know, typical younger sibling behavior. Anyway, he got distracted hanging around with his friends and when he looked up to see where she was,-” a tear slipped out of his eye and he quickly cleaned it away, “she was nowhere to be found. They never saw her again.”

“He was still looking for her? Now?”

“Turns out he is schizophrenic and had been off his meds for a while, which caused a crises. That’s why he had been wandering around the woods looking for his sister. He said it’s been 20 years since he last saw her, and he just missed her so much…” his voice wavered.

“Owen…”

“I just miss her…”

Amelia nodded and laid his head on her chest. She could tell there was more he wanted to say, so instead of saying anything to make him feel better, she simply ran her fingers through his ginger curls, hoping that gave him so comfort.

“Before my dad died he built a swing set on the background for me and my sister. And one morning, it was raining really hard, you know Seattle style, and Megan and I snuck out of the house and went to the swings. I remember going down the stairs holding her hand and telling her to be quiet but she couldn’t stop giggling.” Owen paused and smiled at the memory, “We got outside and started playing around. Eventually Megan started complaining she wasn’t going as high as I was on the swings, so she asked me to push her higher. She had me wrapped around her little finger, I couldn’t say no. So I pushed her. And she fell.”

Owen started laughing, and as confused as she was, Amelia had to laugh along with him.

“What happened next?” she asked, her fingers still in his hair, though he was now lying on her lap.

“Well, Megan started crying and screaming so loud my parents woke up. They came outside and my mom picked her up and carried her inside, while my father dragged me by the ear inside the house.”

Owen was still laughing, but suddenly the laughter mixed with the tears, thought they weren’t falling, simply blurring his vision.

“You know, you were right. Before. That was a PTSD episode.” Amelia simply nodded, she didn’t need him to say it, she knew. “It started a few weeks ago, this patient brought up a lot of stuff and that added to the fact I haven’t been sleeping properly…”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

He paused before answering.

“You’re not there…”

The guilt was evident in her face. She never meant for that to happen. She just didn’t know how to deal with her feelings, or how to make him understand them, so she ran. But she never meant to cause him this much pain.

“I’m sorry…”

“I know…” Owen turned to look up at her face, gave her a small smile and got up from the warmth of her lap, sitting by her side. “I just wished you’d talk to me.”

Amelia turned her face and looked away from him.

“I’m not ready yet…” she whispered.

Owen nodded, not even mad or disappointed in her. He was simply tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of feeling like he was the only one invested in this marriage. Not that he doubted her love for him, but it can’t be just one doing all the work.

He squeezed her hand, and got up to leave.

Amelia felt the squeeze in her hand, realizing how much she missed the feel of his skin against hers.

Why was it so hard for her to open up? Why was she always so willing to help others but whenever someone showed concern for her, she completely shut down her feelings and ran? She was a runner, always had been, no surprise there. But every time she thought she had grown a little and was ready to face anything life threw her way, her mind proved her wrong. And that was frustrating as hell.

The thing is, right now, at this precise moment, Owen was leaving, walking out the door. And for some reason it felt like he wasn’t just leaving the on-call room… She had to say something to stop him.

“I’m pregnant.”

It was a whisper, but Owen heard it. 

The words he so longed to hear danced around his head, loud and clear.

He turned around just in time to see her break down. Much like she had when he took a bag of oxy out of her hands on the porch of her dead brother’s house.

“I’m scared, Owen. So scared.” She said in between sobs.

He knelt down in front of her and grabbed her face between his hands “Are you sure?” his face an unreadable mask. He couldn’t handle another pregnancy scare.

He saw her nodded as tears kept running down her face. He looked up, as if saying thank you, but kept his happiness to himself, knowing that, right now, that was not what she needed.

“Amelia, breathe! Alright? Just breathe.”

Once she had her breathing under control Owen placed a tender kiss on her forehead, “Why are you scared, uh? Talk to me.”

“There are a million things that could go wrong, Owen. That idea you have, of a family, of a normal family… You might not have that.”

“I know tha-“

“No, you don’t!” she shook her head, trying to keep the tears that were threatening to fall, under control. “Rationally, you know there’s always the possibility of something going wrong. But you’re not actually considering it. No one ever really does. Everyone thinks that kind of stuff only happens to other people. Until it happens to them. And reality hits them so hard-”

Owen grabbed her hands, “I know, okay? I know life isn’t perfect. I know there’s always the possibility of you having complications during the pregnancy, I know there are a million things that could happen to the baby, I know-“

“Have you ever seen an anencephalic baby?”

Her question took him by surprise. 

And the fact she was staring him dead in the eyes gave him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I gave birth to one.”

Her revelation was met with silence.

Owen’s reaction was normal, expected even. How was the appropriate way to react when someone you love tells you something of this magnitude?

“It was already too late to do anything when I realized I was pregnant. I had just gotten out of rehab when the symptoms started. I thought it was just my body adjusting to being drug-free. But then I remembered I hadn’t bought tampons in months, so I bought a pregnancy test, instead.”

Owen was at a loss of words. There was genuinely nothing he could think of that would be appropriate to say right now. But then again, maybe it was better to stay silent and let her say everything she needed to say.

Also the look in her blue eyes… It was as if with every word she spoke, she transported herself back to those days.

“I was scared. Gosh, I was so scared when I told Addison. I thought she’d be mad at me, I was afraid she’d think I was still the irresponsible teenager she once knew. But then she hugged me and I just let myself be happy about it.”

He nodded, letting know he was listening closely. His mind saving every word she said.

“Addie did the scan, and I’ll never forget the look in her face when she saw there was something wrong with my baby.”

Amelia took a deep breath, as if to get herself together, but it was futile.

“I was alone, Owen. Everyone was there, asking how I was, everyday. But I was alone.”

“I understa-“

“When I gave birth to him, it was beautiful. He was beautiful.” She had such a radiant smile on her face that he couldn’t help but smile as well, despite the tear marks along her cheeks. “You know for a moment, I forgot I had to let him go. I was holding him, and I was so happy. That baby was my son and I was his mother.”

“What was his name?”

“I never named him. I only called him my Unicorn Baby.”

His brows frowned in curiosity, but the smile stayed on his lips. “Why unicorn baby?”

“When I was twelve I believed in unicorns. You know, beautiful creatures that bring nothing but joy and do magical things. That was just like my baby. He donated all his organs and brought joy to dozens of parents and little babies around the country. And to me.”

Owen noted the proud look that made her whole face glow. And he made a mental note to acknowledge the fact that Amelia said ‘he donated’, as if it had been her baby that made that honorable choice, and not her. She really didn’t give herself enough credit, and it amazed him that she didn’t realize just how amazing she was.

“I would’ve loved to meet him.”

“I think you’d have liked him.”

“For sure.” He nodded and smiled. He already respected her before, but now, the pedestal he had already had her on was so much higher.

“I have this reoccurring dream, you know. I picture him giving his first steps and taking him to his first day of school, and him telling me everything he learned and the friends he made. And then everything suddenly changes and I’m lying in a bed. I know it’s Mother’s Day so I’m waiting for him to come in and give me a kiss and say ‘Happy Mama’s day’. But he never comes…” she breaks down, crying, “And I’m just left there, alone…”

He had to hold her. He hugged her so, so tight.

“Owen, I’m so scared.” – she cried. “It would kill me.”

He didn’t have to ask what ‘it’ meant, he knew.

“Amelia, you-“

“It would kill me, Owen.”

He desperately wanted to make her feel better. Seeing Amelia in pain was one of the worst things he had ever had to face.

“Amelia, I can’t promise you everything will be fine. As much as I want, I can’t do that. I’m scared too.” He said, with the utmost honesty possible, while pushing her scrub top up and kissing her exposed skin. Their baby, their miracle, was in there. “But I can promise you, no matter what happens, you’ll never have to face anything alone. Ever again!

He said it with such fierceness.

Such certainty and conviction, that she had no choice but to believe him.

“I can see us, you know. Waking up at 3am, to change smelly diapers. Constantly looking at the clock in ORs afraid we will miss a football game or a play. Fighting, because our kid asked for a dog and you want to say yes, and I’ll have to be the reasonable one and say no, but you’ll eventually win me over, as you always do, and I’ll be stuck walking it every day. I can see myself, waking up one morning, turning over and reaching out to wrap an arm around you, and I’ll find a little body curled up on yours, and you’ll both be smiling in your sleep and you both have that cute dimple on the left cheek.” Owen smiled, looked at his wife and stroked her temple, “I can see it all. With you.”

She could too.

And she’d be thankful every day, if they got to live every single one of those scenarios.

And many more. If they’re lucky.

They were silent for a while, before Amelia murmured againts his neck.

“I missed you.”

All Owen could do was smile and bring every curve of her body closer against his.

“I’m right here.”

The past gives you an identity and the future holds the promise of salvation, of fulfillment in whaterver form…

I’ll Be With You (Part 3)

A/N: This part too forever to write only because I got distracted by a great section that’s later in the story.

Warning: Swearing again. Alcohol. FLUFF! It gets steamy at the end but no smut… yet ;)

Summary: After running into James Barnes, you find yourself dating an Avenger but the ever present noise in your mind asks– why? To protect your heart, you keep him at arms length, but what happens when he falls for you first?

Song: I’ll Be With You (In Apple Blossom Time)- The Andrews Sisters

In The Mood- The Andrews Sisters & Glenn Miller

(Not my picture)

It had been two weeks since your first date with James Barnes but the texts and early morning running dates were constant. Your shifts wouldn’t allow for any evening dates but you wouldn’t have traded anything for these early mornings. Your shoes were finally laced as you ran out the door looking for the brunette soldier. Same as every morning, he was leaning on the side of the stoop. He wore a long sleeve shirt despite the heat to cover his left arm with gym shorts, showing off his strong, thick legs. You sighed looking at him. You had gone for a sports bra and workout leggings, suddenly feeling insecure in your decision until he looked at you.

    “Geez, I’m going to have to fight off every guy in Brooklyn with you looking like that.” You blushed playfully punching him in his metal arm.

    “Let’s run, soldier!” Leading off as Bucky trailed behind you. He shamelessly stared at your ass until finally catching up with you. Your conversations were light hearted as you retold about patients and your shift the night before. A sense of pride filled him as he listened to you tell about riding a gurney as you perform chest compressions on a patient as you rolled down the hallway.

    “I bet half of Brooklyn has to thank you for saving them, babe.” You chuckled.

    “Hardly. Even so, it’s not saving the world like you, babe.” You winked at him.

    “Ha! We could have used you. Steve was an idiot and got shot on the last mission. Guess they finally figured out to shoot his dumb legs.” He tried to be funny but you could tell it worried him. You stopped running and pulled him into a hug to his surprise. “Y/N?”

    “Are you okay?” You looked up at him in concern. His features softened at your cute face.

“He’s fine–”

“I asked if you were okay.” You were stern, forcing him to answer. You knew it must have scared him to have his best friend injured.

“Yes. Better than okay now.” He pulled you back into a hug. His scent was overpowering as he held you tighter. He had the faint scent of musky sweat with the sharp touch of his deodorant. “Hey, doll. I’m free tomorrow?” He quickly stated, pulling your mind away from his scent.

“I am too!” You tried not to sound overly excited but failed. He chuckled. “But I’ll plan the date.” You blurted out.

—   

    The night came quickly as you dressed, sporting a very 40s style dress that you thought Bucky would love. It was red with a low neckline and swing skirt to your knees. You strapped on your black heels then ran the finishing bright red lipstick across your lips. You let out another sigh as you looked over your outfit. Tikiboots was lounging around on your bed, staring at you with her one eye. “What? Too much?” You turned about quickly. A meow answered you and you huffed. “Asking a damn cat,” you mumbled, shaking your head.

    “Nan! How do I look?” You asked nervously, walking into her bedroom. She sat in her rocker, looking out her window out onto the street. Instead of answering, she coughed heavily in return. “Hey! Easy there,” you gave her some water, “do you need me to stay home?” But her answer was an immediate no.

“Absolutely not!” She huffed at you. “But if I could ask a favor? Could you play my song? My hands are shaking too hard to put the pin down properly.” You gasped. It was her and Pop-pop’s wedding anniversary and you forgot. You smiled lovingly at her then quietly walked over to her vinyl collection and put on her favorite record, the soft melody put a smile on her tired face. You sat back down beside her, holding her hand as the two of you hummed along.

I’ll be with you in apple blossom time

I’ll be with you to change your name to mine

You quietly joined in on the singing, not caring what you sounded like, as Nan giggled slightly. It was a frequent pastime the two of you enjoyed but this time it distracted you both from the car that pulled up.

One day in May, I’ll come and say

Happy the bride that the sun shines on today

    Mindy was quiet as she let Bucky in the door, whispering to him about the loving moment upstairs. He could hear your sweet voice from the doorway as he quietly made his way upstairs.

What a wonderful wedding there will be

What a wonderful day for you and me

He stood just outside the doorway as to just peer on the moment. His breath caught in his throat as he saw you. Your curled hair and red dress, he knew you did all for him, made him smile softly.

Church bells will chime

You will be mine

In apple blossom time

    “My dear,” Nan’s words cut through the soft music causing you to look up at her. “I haven’t seen you this happy in years.” You blushed.

    “Is it too much?” You gestured towards your outfit nervously.

    “No,” Nan laughed, “You look lovely.” She grew quiet, like she was thinking about what to say exactly, which never happened.

    “Nan?” You whispered.

    “Y/N, my sweet girl. Do you like him?” You looked at her with concern. Concern riddled her face as she stared at you for an answer. You blinked a few times, thinking about her question.

    “You know that answer.” You chuckled.

    “Y/N.” She looked at you again.

    “Nan.” You stared back. Bucky was concentrated on your answer, staring at the back of your head, as you thought about him. “You know I do. He’s different.” You whispered.

“Love, it’s been so long. You deserve a chance again.” You smiled again, kissing her cheek as you rose. Bucky quickly turned around, his mind racing with your words echoing in his mind.  

“I’m just going to enjoy tonight.”

    She sighed. “Good. Then I won’t keep you. Go, have fun. Dance for me, love.”

    “Of course,” you called back as you slowly closed her door. You turned towards the stairs until you heard steps behind you.

    “Hey there, gorgeous.” You gasped, clutching your chest.

    “James!” You hissed but then fell into a fit of laughter. He smiled, walking up to hug you. Your arms snaked around his waist, like they belonged there, as you continued to giggle into his chest. “Geez, Sarge, I didn’t need the shit scared out of me.” A small chuckle sounded against your cheek. He looked down at you sweetly, the loving look in his eyes made your knees weak. You looked to his lips, imagining their sweet taste, but you shook yourself from the moment.

    “Well, we have a date to go on, don’t we?” You took his hand leading him to the car. A bit of confusion crossed his face but then disappeared as he opened the door for you.

    “So, doll, there a reason why you’re all dressed up?” He asked, getting in the car.

    “I thought I’d take you somewhere special.” You blushed as you looked at your hands. “Nan and Pop-pop use to take me to the local American Legion on Saturday nights to go dancing.” You finally had the nerve to look up. Bucky’s blue eyes were wide and shimmering as he looked at you. “I figured you probably didn’t have much time for that in the last 70 plus years and I haven’t gone in years, oh and it’s 40s night so I hope you’ll really like it–”

    “I can’t wait.” He breathed out as he grabbed your hand for a kiss. You stopped breathing watching his lips brush over your knuckles. It was going to be difficult to think straight tonight.

    There were fewer people than you remembered but that didn’t bother Bucky. The room was decorated in red, white, and blue, with vintage propaganda posters lining the walls. Bucky allowed the stress of Avenging and his years with HYDRA to melt as he walked towards the dance floor. You had expected his cheeks to hurt from all the smiling he had done, and you hadn’t even started dancing.

    “We look to be the youngest ones here, doll.” He said noticing all the other couples slowly swinging to the music.

    “You mean, I’m the youngest one here?” You winked as you grabbed his hand.

    “Oh ho, doll. You’re gonna get it!” He pulled you close. “Follow my lead.” He whispered into your hair then spun you around causing you to erupt in laughter. He was good. It was like the two of you travel back before the war. His arms were strong as they guided you into dips and swings. You were floating around the dance floor, swinging perfectly in sync with one another like you had been dancing together your whole life. When the next song started a huge grin crossed his handsome features.

    “You know this song?” You winked. It was ‘In The Mood’ with Glenn Miller and The Andrews Sisters. You quietly sung to him as he swung you out and spun you. “Mr. What-ya-call-em what you doin’ tonight. Hope you’re in the mood because I’m feeling just right.” You winked suggestively at the lyrics causing him to chuckle.

    After the third song, you finally took a much need break. Well, it was a break for you. He wasn’t even breathing hard as he guided you to an empty table. He pulled out your chair but then quickly sat next to you, closer than you expected. Luckily, no one either noticed or paid attention to the dapper Avenger beside you, allowing the two of you to flirt at your table in the corner in peace.

“You want a drink, sweetheart?” You nodded quickly, the thought of an ice cold anything was heavenly. He walked over to the bar, leaving you at the table to enjoy the scenery. Really, you were still watching Bucky as he leaned on the bar. You had told him to dress accordingly but he still surprised you. He had worn a long sleeve white button down paired with a navy blue vest and dark tie. His muscles rippled under his shirt sleeves. You sat there silently undressing him with your eyes, your imagination running wild. You hadn’t noticed his return until he quietly cleared his throat, causing you to jump.

“James!” You hissed again, using his first name as to not draw attention to him. “Again?” He smirked then grinned wide.

“What were you thinking about?” You pressed your lips tight as you watched his shit-eating grin.

“This.” You took your drink and nursed a long sip, tasting the sweet taste of rum and coke. “My favorite! How did you know?” You smiled.

    “It was a guess. You don’t seem like a fruity cocktail girl.” You smirked, biting on the tiny straw in your drink. You looked out towards the dance floor, allowing Bucky to stare, jealous of the attention you were giving the straw. He huffed quietly in frustration then quickly turned back to you. “You go dancing often?” He questioned, causing you to chuckle.

    “I haven’t had a partner to go dancing with in years.” You winked.

    “I’ll never understand why.” That look he gave you from the hallway returned. It was a good thing you were already sitting down. You crossed your legs and cleared your throat, uncomfortable under his stare.

    “So I have to ask, why do run to Brooklyn every morning? I mean, I know we run now, but the very first time.” You leaned over onto your hand, resting your elbow on the table. His face fell which immediately caused you to rethink your question. “Nightmares?” He nodded slowly. “Pop-pop had them too. He survived Normandy.” You grabbed both of his hands. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to share.” You smiled as sweetly as you could, rubbing small circles into the back of his hand flesh hand but not letting go of the metal one. You tried to remember how Nan would comfort Pop-pop after a nasty spell of nightmares. Your eyes turned down towards the hands you now held in your lap. He hadn’t pulled away yet. “But I admire that you’ve gone through hell and you’re still so nice. I mean… nice isn’t the best word. You’re just so sweet to me but you’ve just done so much good in the worl–” His lips crushed into yours, causing you to moan at the sudden action. He released his hands from your grasp and cupped your face, deepening the kiss. The natural taste of his lips and the sweet liquor mixed to cause your head to spin. You finally pulled back for air, laying your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself. “James…” you whispered breathlessly.

He pulled you out of your seat and towards the dance floor. You were stunned, speechless, overwhelmed, and completely infatuated with the man in front of you. The music was soft and slow as Bucky pulled you close but you couldn’t comprehend the lyrics or melody. You allowed your body to just follow his.

“Let’s get out of here doll.” He whispered in your hair but you only nodded. He pulled your hands, leading you toward the car. You stopped him before he opened the car door, pushing him against the vehicle. He stared at you shocked but the dark glint in your eyes explained it all. You grabbed his tie to pull him down to your height, fiercely kissing him. His warm hand was placed at the back of your neck, refusing to let you pull back. Your own hands combed through his tawny hair, pulling him closer. A low growl from his chest vibrated to your lips, causing you to moan. His metal hand snaked around your hips, dangerously close to your ass. You shuttered in response.


Originally posted by kissing-pleasure

“Sergeant–” you whimpered, resting your forehead to his. Your hands were still wrapped around his neck.

“God, I love it when you call me that.” His voice was a low growl. You giggled, wildly blushing from the hot make-out session you just had on a side street in Brooklyn.

“Well, that was something.” He smirked.

“Let’s get you home, baby girl.”  

Part 4

Love Kate! xoxo

Kiss Challenge : Hiding/hoping not to be caught kiss

A/N: Welcome another Aussie to the page

Words: 1524

“Fifteen!”

You peek around the threshold of your seven-year-old sons bedroom door. Hovering on the edge of his bed, Micah has his hands clamped over his wide blue eyes. Despite his recent trip to the barbershop, his thick blonde curls are wild and untamed.

It is seven o'clock on a Saturday morning and a highly competitive game of hide-and-seek was underway in the Courtney household.

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Rebelcaptain fanfic: 5 times Cassian and Jyn shared a bed

But then again, you can be quick to envy someone else’s struggles when they appeared easier than yours. 

Read on AO3 


    1. 

    The first two weeks Jyn Erso simply didn’t sleep.

   It was that easy; she instead haunted Yavin base, wandering the endless corridors like the rebellion’s very own personal ghost. It was fitting. There were enough ghosts surrounding her, so she may as well invite them in, let them become a part of her. She would eventually pass out in odd places: inside a crate amongst several blasters, in the middle of the north staircase. Once, she was even found curled up inside the cargo hold of one of the transports. She might’ve ended up in Imperial territory if someone hadn’t found her.

   Cassian seemed to be the only one who was willing to dare approach her. She wasn’t aware of much, but she would hear the other soldiers make the call (“Captain? Uhhh … yeah, sorry, but we’ve found Erso again,”) and knew he was the one who would come for her. She was liable to lash out at anyone who dared try and wake her, but the man was nothing but patient and Jyn didn’t know whether she loved or hated him for it. He would wake her as gently as he could, before sliding his arms under her slight weight. She would protest weakly, but the truth of the matter was that her brain was tired, confused and dangerously spiralling, and she would let him take her to the sickbay.

   “You’re going to hurt yourself soon,” he would say gruffly as she dozed half-conscious in his arms.

   But the dark abyss of sleep threatened to swallow her whole every time she tried. Every time she closed her eyes, her ghosts were faithfully there to keep her company. Rogue One would hang over her head, the blaster shots, the explosions, the pain and the exhaustion of the battle. The tears she’d been unable to choke back as she watched her father’s message, her cries as she held his broken body in her arms – all of it would flood her in sleep until she was sure she was slowly being driven insane.

   Cassian kept bringing her to the sickbay, probably because the man just didn’t know what else to do. Somewhere in her mind she recognised this and felt the guilt churning, knew that he was worrying over her, wanted to make it better somehow, but didn’t have the first clue how. She used to be so good at sleeping. She was a thief, a liar, always on the run, always trying to keep her head down and hide; she had to be good at sleeping whenever she got the privilege. Where had that Jyn Erso gone?

   Maybe she really had died on that beach.

   She didn’t recognise any of the parts of herself that were left, after all. 

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Bold Girl (Sometimes), Chapter 2

A/N: @my-little-yellowbird noted that “Shelagh always seems most bold after she’s come through the fire”, which gave me the idea for this next fic. We all know that Patrick lurves that nurse’s uniform ;). Serious kettles ahead, guys.

Patrick had expected to come home and find his wife fast asleep. Alternately, she might wake from him entering, and give him a kiss – maybe a quick snog if he was lucky–before nodding off again. Maybe she would ask him how his day went, and curl up against him as he assured her that everything was fine. He was only recently recovered from his breakdown, and Shelagh kept a close eye on him ever since, making sure he was not biting off more than he could chew.

Patrick did not expect to find her fully awake, and dressed in her nurse’s uniform.

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Gute Reise

“I invented immortality just to tell you you were wrong.” 
Based off this post. @hamelin-born

Grindelwald wakes to the feeling of being straddled, and it pulls him from his sleep slowly, gently, as a lover might. He blinks up at the ceiling, only to find a face waiting there for him. A very familiar face. A face he had thought he had gotten rid of just two nights prior. A face he has been wearing ever since. He squints, more curious than afraid, and says, “Well aren’t you a surprising bed fellow, director. Back so soon?”

He finds his hands at the lithe man’s hips before he can stop himself, but surprisingly, the director does not correct him. He merely leans back, his body a long, lean line that Grindelwald can’t help but follow, and runs a hand through his hair – his decidedly not grey hair. Grindelwald feels his little smile ebb into a frown.

In fact, that’s not all that’s changed about the man. He’s pale, for one – his dark hair a stark contrast against the soft milky complexion of his skin. He’s stronger, heavier with muscle, but not broader. There’s a decided difference to his body language. The prudish, powerful cut of his shoulders is gone, lost beneath the sensual jut of his hips and an otherworldliness that Grindelwald can’t quite place. He wonders if his weeks of stalking the man had been for nothing. Had he imagined the soft tan of Graves skin or the silver at his temples? The unique cut of his hair? The wrinkles around his brows and eyes?

Because all of that is gone. In its stead is youthful skin and thick, luscious hair and complexion with the paleness of a star.

“So soon,” Graves scoffs. “I guess it was but a day or two for you, since we last met. But for me?” He smiled, and Grindelwald felt a strange sensation crawl down the length of his back.

Fear.

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On Saturdays

It was not the alarm, or the sunlight pouring through the windows that woke her, but the sound of the rain as it pounded on the roof and windows.  Lexa stretched, rubbing her legs against the soft sheets of the bed.  She curled herself around the body next to her, rubbing her hands over the supple curves of hips and breasts, as she kissed the smooth skin of her wife’s back.  She smiled, inhaling the faint scent of soap and moisturizer that clung to Clarke, sweeter than any perfume.

Lexa rubbed her feet against Clarke’s, humming contentedly.  It was finally Saturday, and after a work week full of meeting, deadlines, on-call and seemingly endless shifts, Lexa finally had her wife to herself.  Lexa lived for Saturdays.  She reveled in being able to lie in bed with Clarke, with no thoughts wasted on alarm clocks, morning commutes or getting to work on time.  Saturdays were reserved exclusively for them, for slow, soft kisses that went on for hours, and lovemaking that paid no mind to schedules.  Saturdays were Lexa’s Sabbath, and Clarke’s body, the temple at which she worshiped.  Worshiping properly took as long as it took on Saturdays.

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