i wish i could show what the back of this shirt looks like... it's so cool!

Ohana

Summary: “Ohana means family. And family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” Everyone knows that Dan is a Lester and belongs on the family holiday–well, everyone except Dan himself. However, a beautiful seaside walk and a special surprise from Martyn and Cornelia may be just the ammunition he needs to change his mind.

Genre: Pure fluff

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Like 2 swear words but that’s it

A/N: Because we all know there was some soppy convincing needed to get Dan to stay in Florida. Inspired by this ask over @nihilist-toothpaste.
I hope you enjoy!!

Keep reading

Dean surprises everyone when he hands Cas the iPhone, brand new in its pristine white box. The angel is overwhelmed; he knew his flip phone was outdated but this…

“And wait,” Dean smiles, grabbing another package from the bag. “I haven’t even shown you the best part yet.”

They’re headphones, large ones in a big box and a little plastic container of smaller ear buds. They both have the label Shure on the side, a fact that has Sam’s hazel eyes wide and Castiel blushing under the lavishness of the gifts. “Dean, I don’t need–”

“I know,” Dean says. His smile, though hesitant and shy, is beautiful. “I, uh, I wanted to. ‘Sides, can’t have you listening to shitty tunes on shitty headphones, y'know?”

The phone has already been set up, a fact Castiel is eternally grateful for. The angel watches as Dean explains how the device works, tapping at the screen and plugging in the huge headphones and carefully placing them over Cas’s ears. Castiel flinches in response: “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Dean replies. His smile is brave and fake, and Cas hates it. He wishes he could relax. He wishes he could stop being anxious and sad. But ever since he expelled Lucifer and killed Amara, things have been—different. Loud noises make him jump, unexpected touches make him cringe and flinch, and he often loses himself in his own thoughts.

“Hey, here, I wanna show you something.” This time, Dean warns him before touching him, his calloused fingers smoothing over his arm as his other hand hovers over the phone. “I’m gonna press play, okay? You’ll like it, I promise.”

With the knowledge that the song will be a surprise, Castiel tenses up, his shoulders almost touching his ears. He nods and bites his lip, almost to the point of blood.

Dean’s green eyes become dull and worried in response, and the hunter gives a little nod of his own. He presses play. Cas flinches pre-emptively.

And then it’s just… alright. Good, even.

In the place of music, the sound of rain filters through his headphones. It’s a little bit of a shock at first, he has to turn the volume down because the bouts of thunder make him jump, but after a while, it becomes—relaxing. The sound is repetitive, soft, the thunder is low and grumbly, and it soothes Cas until he’s comfortable enough to slump in his seat. Dean, who at some point has sat down beside him, easily takes Castiel’s weight against his shoulder. When he wraps an arm around the angel, Cas doesn’t even flinch.

Soon after, the rain changes to the hum of a washing machine, but instead of another ten minutes of blissful white noise, the sound is soon interrupted by something sharper. It’s still a low sound, though, and with how relaxed Castiel is, the angel doesn’t startle.

It’s Dean.

So, uh, hey Cas, it’s me. Ah… Dean.

A smile begins to creep across Cas’s lips.

Shit. Fuck, of course it’s me—um, yep. So, it’s Dean. And I just. I just wanted to talk, I guess. I know it’s been kinda, uh, tough since you got back, and I know we don’t talk about it, but I’m… I’m worried, Cas. And I know I’m a coward. And I know I’m probably bein’ selfish right now, but it’s killin’ me to watch you waste away to nothing, man. I, ah, I love you too much for that. Like, I love you a lot, a-and—fuck. I’m not… doin’ this right.

Look, what I, I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that… I don’t care why you did it. I don’t. I care about you, Cas. And if you don’t love me back, that’s cool, and if you do, well… A shaky breath. Well, then, we move at your pace. But you’re all I care about. You gotta believe that.

Kay, um, well, I love you.

Okay.

Uh, bye.

Cas doesn’t know he’s crying until Dean is wiping at his cheeks, freckled skin drowning in ruby red warmth as the hunter coos and hushes him. Castiel grasps Dean’s wrists tightly and carefully leans in, his breath shaky and laboured and nervous before he presses the sweetest of chaste kisses upon the other’s lips. Immediately after, Cas buries his face in Dean’s neck and hugs his hunter tightly. “Thank you,” he breathes.

Dean’s small, relieved smile presses against the top of Castiel’s head. “Yeah, god, anytime, Cas,” he breathes. “L-love you.”

It takes a handful of seconds before Cas can gather up the air to answer—before he’s absolutely certain this is real. Fingers twisting in the material of Dean’s shirt, the angel nods, throat clicking with his swallow. His lips part.

“Love you.”

Looks like lightning

A giant alien spaceship castle you would assume have more then enough bathrooms. However despite the size there were only four in the whole castle one in each wing. Apparently Altean’s didn’t need to go as often as humans did so they never bothered to fit every area with a bathroom.
Of course Allura had her own personal bathroom in her chambers and Corran used the one in the east side of the castle leaving the five Paladins to share the one closest to their collective rooms.
Shiro at first attempted to create a time chart so that everyone would have time to get ready in the morning and get in a shower before bed.
However he quickly learnt that asking a group of teenagers not to take hours in the bathroom was like expecting a pig to sprout wings and fight the Glara.
Keith spends the least time in the morning, only bothering to brush his teeth before going out to train, it’s the evenings that he takes his time, spending almost an hour in the shower letting the warm water work its magic on his sore aching muscles.
Hunk takes his time whenever he uses the bathroom. Often singing or having imaginary arguments with himself.
Pidge spends hours in there. Often taking their computer in with them and ends up losing themselves so completely in their work that they could leave for five minutes to use the toilet and not be seen until dinner.
However out of everyone Lance is by far the worst. He spends hours in there every morning and evening, he will often run out during training just to look in the mirror. Because of this more then a few times a fellow Paladin has been forced to run across the castle in search of another bathroom.
After yet another close call Pidge had enough.
“He’s just so vain!” They snapped walking into the common area where Keith was sat sharpening his knife.
“I know but there’s not much we can do about it” he shrugged not even bothering to look up as the green paladin flopped down on the couch next to him.
“We could complain to Allura or maybe Shiro?” They offered voice slightly muffled by having their face buried in the cushions.
“Wouldn’t work. They already know and the worst that would happen to him is get a lecture and maybe being out of cleaning duty, it wouldn’t change anything. As long as he’s got all his cleaning products he’s going to continue to hogging the bathroom.” Keith patted Pidge on the head when they let out a frustrated groan.
Suddenly they sat bolt upright making Keith pull his hand away in surprise.
“But what if he didn’t?”
“Didn’t what?” Keith questioned a little unnerved by the Cheshire Cat like grin that spread across the smaller Paladins face.
“What if Lance didn’t have his products? What if someone were to hide them to teach him not to just leave his stuff lying around in the bathroom like he owned the place?”
A similar grim spread across Keith’s face as he realised what exactly Pidge was suggesting.
“I think that just might teach him a lesson.”
———————————–
When Lance rolled out of bed that morning like every morning he walked down the hall to the bathroom so he could wash off his face mask and get ready for the day.
However when he had washed the white mask off and reached for his makeup bag only to find it missing he knew something was very wrong. He checked again in case he had put it somewhere else the night before but found nothing.
At this point he began to panic falling to his knees as he tore apart the bathroom desperately searching for his bag as his breaths came shorter and faster.
He had to find his bag.
He couldn’t let the others see him without his makeup.
———————————–
Unlike Pidge, Keith couldn’t wait to see Lance get his comeuppance, so when he heard Lance go to the bathroom that morning Keith had followed close behind listening just out side of the door waiting for the moment of realisation of the prank.
Keith had expected Lance to get angry or maybe even a few tears but nothing major.
What he didn’t expect was to hear the sounds of the bathroom being ripped apart and soft desperate sobbing.
Worried the red paladin opened the door “Lance are you-”
He cut off when he saw exactly why the makeup bag had meant so much to him.
Across the right side of his face there were long white scars trailing along his skin. There were five in total all connected at the side of his neck disappearing under his clothes. One stretched over the outside of his face curling round to just above his left eyebrow. Another curled under his right eye with one branching off to across his nose. The other two wrapped around each other by his chin and jaw line.
Seeing Keith Lance instantly threw his hands up covering his face. “Don’t look at me!” He screamed frantically.
His sleeves fell down showing his right arm also covered with the swirling pale scars shockingly different to his dark skin.
Keith stared at him in shock.
How long had Lance been hiding this from them? When had he been hurt? What could of done this kind damage?
“Oh god… Lance”
Lance shrunk away from Keith not stopping until he hit the cold tile wall.
He looked like a trapped animal countered by a predator.
“I’m so sorry” Keith mumbled sitting down next to him and pulling the blue paladin into a slightly awkward hug.
Lance stiffened for a moment before melting under his team mates touch.
He turned, burying his face into Keith’s chest and sobbed desperately.
Keith wasn’t sure what to do. All he knew was that he wanted to make Lance feel better. Slowly he began to run his free hand through the taller boys hair making quiet shushing noises.
Half an hour later Lance had calmed down and had stopped crying, however he still had his face hidden in Keith’s shirt.
“Thanks” Lance mumbled so quietly that Keith had to wonder if he had imagined it.
The guilt stopped him in the stomach. He didn’t deserve thanks. He deserved to get his ass kicked and then shot out into space for what he had done.
“You don’t need to thank me… it’s my fault”
Lance slowly looked up just enough so that his blue teary eyes were visible. “It’s not… its mine.”
Keith bit his lip, he wanted to argue but Lance almost never talked about himself, not really.
“How so?”
“I was twelve I think, back when me and my family still lived in Cuba…”
Keith could practically hear the homesickness dripping from those words. He wished he could relate but he never really had a home to miss in the first place.
“Mamma told me and my older brother not to go to the ocean that day. But Leo told me it would be fine. And it was for a little bit. We swam, played and surfed for a couple hours. Then it started to get dark and Leo said it was time to go home b-but I was having too much fun so I ignored him. I even ignored him when he tried to warn me…”
Lance was quiet for a few minutes trying to swallow the lump in his throat.
“See Mama had seen on the news that there were lots of Jellyfish in the water that day… she tried to keep us safe without scaring us.
But we wanted to play and well I didn’t notice the Jellyfish until one stung me on the ankle…”
Keith found himself leaning closer silently urging Lance to continue.
“I fell off my board right into a whole bunch of them. I don’t remember much. Just blinding pain then next thing I know I’m waking up in hospital a week later.”
Keith gasped cringing at how Lance flinched at the noise.
“C-can I see?” He asked hesitantly. He didn’t expect his request to be answered so it was surprising when Lance took of his shirt to show the mess of thin white scars that stretched across his torso.
Kieth couldn’t help but run his finger over the one across Lance’s chest.
“Beautiful”
“What was that?” Lance asked causing Keith to blush bright red “I erm I only meant that they look cool! Like lightning!” He sputtered.
Lance chuckled bitterly “yeah I used to think so too. In Cuba at least the kids in school saw it as a badge of honour. But after my Dad died and we had to move to America to live with my Grandparents well… kids can be cruel. They can be cruel about makeup too but I find it’s easier to play the vain pretty boy then have to deal with teasing or worse pity.”
Keith gulped. He was honoured that Lance shared something so personal with him but he knew he didn’t deserve it.
“Look Lance this really is my fault me and Pidge stole your stuff to try and get back at you for always hogging the bathroom.”
Keith expected yelling, maybe more crying. What he didn’t expect was for Lance to just shrug one shoulder “yeah I figured from how guilty you looked.”
“Your not mad?”
Lance laughed, for real this time. “No I’m not mad. Your the first person to call my scars beautiful… it kinda meant a lot.”
Lance looked away blushing almost as much as Keith was.
He realises his hand was still resting on Lance’s bare chest and pulled it away only for it to be grabbed by Lance.
“Glad I was awake for this bonding moment”
Keith smiled looking down at their hands for a moment.
“Yeah me too.”

Looks like lightning

A giant alien spaceship castle you would assume have more then enough bathrooms. However despite the size there were only four in the whole castle one in each wing. Apparently Altean’s didn’t need to go as often as humans did so they never bothered to fit every area with a bathroom.
Of course Allura had her own personal bathroom in her chambers and Corran used the one in the east side of the castle leaving the five Paladins to share the one closest to their collective rooms.
Shiro at first attempted to create a time chart so that everyone would have time to get ready in the morning and get in a shower before bed.
However he quickly learnt that asking a group of teenagers not to take hours in the bathroom was like expecting a pig to sprout wings and fight the Glara.
Keith spends the least time in the morning, only bothering to brush his teeth before going out to train, it’s the evenings that he takes his time, spending almost an hour in the shower letting the warm water work its magic on his sore aching muscles.
Hunk takes his time whenever he uses the bathroom. Often singing or having imaginary arguments with himself.
Pidge spends hours in there. Often taking their computer in with them and ends up losing themselves so completely in their work that they could leave for five minutes to use the toilet and not be seen until dinner.
However out of everyone Lance is by far the worst. He spends hours in there every morning and evening, he will often run out during training just to look in the mirror. Because of this more then a few times a fellow Paladin has been forced to run across the castle in search of another bathroom.
After yet another close call Pidge had enough.
“He’s just so vain!” They snapped walking into the common area where Keith was sat sharpening his knife. 
“I know but there’s not much we can do about it” he shrugged not even bothering to look up as the green paladin flopped down on the couch next to him.
“We could complain to Allura or maybe Shiro?” They offered voice slightly muffled by having their face buried in the cushions.
“Wouldn’t work. They already know and the worst that would happen to him is get a lecture and maybe being out of cleaning duty, it wouldn’t change anything. As long as he’s got all his cleaning products he’s going to continue to hogging the bathroom.” Keith patted Pidge on the head when they let out a frustrated groan.
Suddenly they sat bolt upright making Keith pull his hand away in surprise. 
“But what if he didn’t?”
“Didn’t what?” Keith questioned a little unnerved by the Cheshire Cat like grin that spread across the smaller Paladins face.
“What if Lance didn’t have his products? What if someone were to hide them to teach him not to just leave his stuff lying around in the bathroom like he owned the place?”
A similar grim spread across Keith’s face as he realised what exactly Pidge was suggesting.
“I think that just might teach him a lesson.”
———————————–
When Lance rolled out of bed that morning like every morning he walked down the hall to the bathroom so he could wash off his face mask and get ready for the day. 
However when he had washed the white mask off and reached for his makeup bag only to find it missing he knew something was very wrong. He checked again in case he had put it somewhere else the night before but found nothing.
At this point he began to panic falling to his knees as he tore apart the bathroom desperately searching for his bag as his breaths came shorter and faster.
He had to find his bag.
He couldn’t let the others see him without his makeup.
———————————–
Unlike Pidge, Keith couldn’t wait to see Lance get his comeuppance, so when he heard Lance go to the bathroom that morning Keith had followed close behind listening just out side of the door waiting for the moment of realisation of the prank.
Keith had expected Lance to get angry or maybe even a few tears but nothing major.
What he didn’t expect was to hear the sounds of the bathroom being ripped apart and soft desperate sobbing.
Worried the red paladin opened the door “Lance are you-” 
He cut off when he saw exactly why the makeup bag had meant so much to him.
Across the right side of his face there were long white scars trailing along his skin. There were five in total all connected at the side of his neck disappearing under his clothes. One stretched over the outside of his face curling round to just above his left eyebrow. Another curled under his right eye with one branching off to across his nose. The other two wrapped around each other by his chin and jaw line.
Seeing Keith Lance instantly threw his hands up covering his face. “Don’t look at me!” He screamed frantically.
His sleeves fell down showing his right arm also covered with the swirling pale scars shockingly different to his dark skin.
Keith stared at him in shock. 
How long had Lance been hiding this from them? When had he been hurt? What could of done this kind damage?
“Oh god… Lance”
Lance shrunk away from Keith not stopping until he hit the cold tile wall.
He looked like a trapped animal countered by a predator.
“I’m so sorry” Keith mumbled sitting down next to him and pulling the blue paladin into a slightly awkward hug.
Lance stiffened for a moment before melting under his team mates touch.
He turned, burying his face into Keith’s chest and sobbed desperately.
Keith wasn’t sure what to do. All he knew was that he wanted to make Lance feel better. Slowly he began to run his free hand through the taller boys hair making quiet shushing noises.
Half an hour later Lance had calmed down and had stopped crying, however he still had his face hidden in Keith’s shirt.
“Thanks” Lance mumbled so quietly that Keith had to wonder if he had imagined it. 
The guilt stopped him in the stomach. He didn’t deserve thanks. He deserved to get his ass kicked and then shot out into space for what he had done.
“You don’t need to thank me… it’s my fault” 
Lance slowly looked up just enough so that his blue teary eyes were visible. “It’s not… its mine.”
Keith bit his lip, he wanted to argue but Lance almost never talked about himself, not really.
“How so?”
“I was twelve I think, back when me and my family still lived in Cuba…”
Keith could practically hear the homesickness dripping from those words. He wished he could relate but he never really had a home to miss in the first place.
“Mamma told me and my older brother not to go to the ocean that day. But Leo told me it would be fine. And it was for a little bit. We swam, played and surfed for a couple hours. Then it started to get dark and Leo said it was time to go home b-but I was having too much fun so I ignored him. I even ignored him when he tried to warn me…” 
Lance was quiet for a few minutes trying to swallow the lump in his throat. 
“See Mama had seen on the news that there were lots of Jellyfish in the water that day… she tried to keep us safe without scaring us. 
But we wanted to play and well I didn’t notice the Jellyfish until one stung me on the ankle…”
Keith found himself leaning closer silently urging Lance to continue.
“I fell off my board right into a whole bunch of them. I don’t remember much. Just blinding pain then next thing I know I’m waking up in hospital a week later.”
Keith gasped cringing at how Lance flinched at the noise.
“C-can I see?” He asked hesitantly. He didn’t expect his request to be answered so it was surprising when Lance took of his shirt to show the mess of thin white scars that stretched across his torso.
Kieth couldn’t help but run his finger over the one across Lance’s chest. 
“Beautiful” 
“What was that?” Lance asked causing Keith to blush bright red “I erm I only meant that they look cool! Like lightning!” He sputtered.
Lance chuckled bitterly “yeah I used to think so too. In Cuba at least the kids in school saw it as a badge of honour. But after my Dad died and we had to move to America to live with my Grandparents well… kids can be cruel. They can be cruel about makeup too but I find it’s easier to play the vain pretty boy then have to deal with teasing or worse pity.”
Keith gulped. He was honoured that Lance shared something so personal with him but he knew he didn’t deserve it. 
“Look Lance this really is my fault me and Pidge stole your stuff to try and get back at you for always hogging the bathroom.” 
Keith expected yelling, maybe more crying. What he didn’t expect was for Lance to just shrug one shoulder “yeah I figured from how guilty you looked.”
“Your not mad?”
Lance laughed, for real this time. “No I’m not mad. Your the first person to call my scars beautiful… it kinda meant a lot.”
Lance looked away blushing almost as much as Keith was.
He realises his hand was still resting on Lance’s bare chest and pulled it away only for it to be grabbed by Lance.
“Glad I was awake for this bonding moment”
Keith smiled looking down at their hands for a moment.
“Yeah me too.”

Sick

 

Another sneeze, nose running so you had to reach for more tissues, stuffy head, Lord you were barely gonna last the afternoon if this kept up. Why’d you even come into work anyways? Not like things couldn’t have been taken care of in the comfort of your own apartment. But then it’d remind you of the reason you came in today in the first place. Loneliness, granted you weren’t totally alone. Nat, Clint and Sam stayed home from this last mission so company wasn’t the issues. No it’s who you want there more than anything else. To keep you warm, hold you close, kiss your forehead and tell you everything’s going to be okay.

Course the honeymoon stage should’ve worn off by now as Tony has said more than a few times over the past several months; given the fact you and Bucky have been together for going on three years. Though you can’t help it and only hoped Bucky felt the same. Thoughts are interrupted by another coughing fit that rattles your lungs and has you gasping for breath and the desk in front of you.

“Damn sweetheart you don’t sound so good,” Sam’s deep voice reaches your ears right as you blow your sore nose for what felt like the thousandth time today.

Glaring, before tossing the tissues out, “Thanks for the boost in confidence birdman, I’ll be sure to fix my makeup later.”

“That’s not what I meant Y/N,” rolling expressive chocolate eyes, Sam perches a hip on the end of your desk, arms crossed, while giving you the once over. “You look sick.”

“And he takes another shot,” groaning when two more sneezes land in the hastily grabbed tissues. “Insults gonna stop anytime soon Wilson?”

“Woman,” he all but growls, then chuckles seeing the half smirk on your lips, which turns into a frown at the next couching fit. “Seriously Y/N, you need to get home, meds, soup and sleep,” worry seeping into his tone.

“I’ll be fine Sam, promise,” soft groan leaving your lips as you sit up, sore muscle being pulled from coughing so much.

Shaking his head, “Not taking no for an answer sweetness. I won’t have that walking icicle you call a boyfriend rip me a new one for not taking care of you.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

do it kat. write that narukono time travel fix-it. drag us farther into hell.

*dumps this in front of you as a distraction/tribute*


Naruto is pretty sure he has a crush.

It is absolutely, definitely not on any of the many assorted women Jiraiya has dragged him to meet in the name of information gathering, even though he’s sure they’re perfectly nice ladies. But he’s seen Jiraiya disappear into their brothels a few too many times for comfort, and even when the pervert tries to hint that he should take one of them up on their offers to make him a man Naruto just plays dumb.

It’s kind of insulting that Jiraiya always buys it. Naruto might think at things differently, but that doesn’t make him stupid.

He’s also not a perv like Jiraiya, so there’s that, too.

But, the last few times Jiraiya has been otherwise occupied for the night—which usually means Naruto will actually be left to his own devices for the next week or so, until Jiraiya has burned through all of his cash and whatever he can bum off of Naruto—he’s ended up talking to the same stranger. Never at the same place twice, but—randomly. By the river washing clothes, or in the market buying dinner, or at a ramen stand that’s almost as good as old man Teuchi’s, or at the best camping spot along the road.

After the third time, Naruto thinks about being suspicious. He and Jiraiya are hardly falling a set path, after all, and to keep bumping into the same stranger—that probably means something. But—

But he’s nice.

It probably says a lot, that Naruto is still so unused to people showing him any sort of kindness at all.

“You must have been training pretty hard,” the man says, the first time they talk. He’s eyeing Naruto’s scorched, battered clothes with something that might even be respect, and he meets Naruto’s startled look with a smile as he tugs the blue scarf from around his neck.

“Uh, I try my best!” Naruto says, offering him a smile in return even as he rubs the back of his head a bit sheepishly. His clothes are in a pretty horrible state; Naruto isn’t sure he’s going to be able to patch them enough to wear, though Jiraiya probably won’t notice either way. He might even start campaigning for Naruto to switch to being a girl again so they can travel that way. It’s not that Naruto minds being a girl, but he doesn’t want to play eye-candy for his perv of a godfather. That’s just creepy.

“I could use some practice, if you want to spar,” the man offers. He grins, and adds, “I’m Kono—uh. I’m Konomaru!”

Well, that was…suspicious. Naruto eyes him for a second, but when he doesn’t sprout tentacles and fangs or start monologuing, he figures the guy is probably okay. He’s not getting any weird vibes off of him, at least, and Naruto even gets those off Jiraiya, as fond as he is of the pervert.

“Nice to meet you!” he answers cheerfully. “I’m Naruto!” Jiraiya’s drilled him on not offering a last name—or his status as a jinchuuriki, but Naruto would hardly tell anyone that willingly under pain of death—while they’re nominally laying low, so he doesn’t immediately announce his dream, either. No need to connect all the pieces for him if this guy is an enemy.

But, when he glances up, there’s no sign of villainous posturing about to start. Instead Konomaru is smiling, gentle and almost fond as he looks at Naruto, and—

It’s really not a way anyone has ever looked at Naruto before. Not even Iruka looks at him quite like that.

A little flustered, he ducks his head, pulling his black t-shirt off and dumping it with the rest of his things to be washed.

Konomaru promptly makes a noise like he’s choking on his tongue.

“You okay?” Naruto asks cautiously, watching him cough and turn red.

“Yep!” the man squeaks, in a pitch way higher than any Naruto has heard since Kiba hit puberty. He fans his red face with one hand, still coughing. “Sorry, uh, water. Went down the wrong way.”

Naruto’s fairly certain he wasn’t drinking, but he just shrugs and goes back to his clothes, debating whether to get his needle and thread first or just wash them. Probably better to see if they can be salvaged at all first.

“Are you a ninja too, then?” he asks, digging through his pack. He’s getting low on thread, but given how ripped his jacket is from the last time he experimented with the Rasengan, it’s not going to matter.

“I am!” Konomaru sounds a lot cheerier. “I even made jounin at seventeen!”

He’s probably a bit over that now, Naruto thinks. Nineteen, maybe? “That’s awesome,” he agrees, grinning up at the man. “I’m going to make jounin soon too, believe it!”

“I’m absolutely sure you will,” Konomaru says, giving him that smile again.

They never get that spar, since Jiraiya ends up getting kicked out of town for propositioning the headman’s wife while drunk, but they talk the next few times they run into each other. Each meeting is a few weeks apart, in different villages, but it’s clear they’re both traveling and Konomaru is delighted to see him every time.

It makes something warm twist in Naruto’s stomach, and…it’s not the loud-bright pay attention to me that Naruto felt about Sakura. It’s a little quieter, a little sharper, and sometimes when it’s dark he lies awake in his bedroll and just…thinks about Konomaru.

It’s probably definitely a crush.

“You know,” Konomaru says one night as they’re setting up camp together, Jiraiya back in the town and water for ramen waiting to be boiled. (It’s Konomaru’s favorite food too, and Naruto thinks that just makes him even more awesome.) “You said you’re training with a master, but…I haven’t seen him around.”

“He’s busy,” Naruto says, and keeps it cheerful through long practice lying about things like that. It’s not precisely a lie, because Jiraiya is busy, and he’s definitely doing important work, but—

Naruto just wishes that sometimes their training was more than just being told what to do before Jiraiya disappears again.

When he glances up, Konomaru is looking away, scratching at his cheek with a slightly uncertain expression. He swallows nervously, glancing at Naruto and then away again, and says abruptly, “My—my name’s actually Konohamaru. Sarutobi Konohamaru.”

Naruto blinks. He takes in the familiar blue scarf, the faint flush, the face stripped of its baby fat, and—

“Like—like my Konohamaru?” Naruto asks disbelievingly.

Konohamaru flushes further, ducking down to hide the bottom of his face in his scarf. “I time-traveled to save you,” he blurts. “And—and I’m going to help you save the world and then I’m going to save you because—because you’re Boss and you’re my rival and definitely have to make it to Hokage again so I can beat you…” He trails off, his face as red as the Hokage’s robes, and makes a noise of despair. “Oh gods, I screwed it up, that was supposed to sound cool and I totally failed, Boss, I’m so sorry but you’re so cute like this!”

Naruto is still kind of stuck on the time-travel and save the world parts.

And the cute part. Definitely that.

But—

But that’s definitely Konohamaru, loudly berating himself for being so uncool, and Naruto can’t help but laugh. Konohamaru glances up at him warily, like he’s just waiting for Naruto to take off running, but Naruto just offers him a smile.

“So where do we start?” he asks cheerfully.

Konohamaru’s face screws up like he’s about to cry, jounin or not, and he throws himself across the space between them to slam into Naruto’s chest, wrapping his arms around his waist and wailing, “Boss is still definitely the coolest!”

There’s heat creeping up Naruto’s cheeks, but he just swallows and ignores it, patting Konohamaru on the head. “Saving the world?” he prompts.

Konohamaru brightens. “I have a list!” he says proudly.

He does indeed have a list. And it starts with tracking down another jinchuuriki and learning how to make friends with the Kyuubi.

Naruto definitely gets the feeling that he’s not going to be bored again for a very long time.


(They leave Jiraiya a note. Naruto almost feels bad for that. But definitely not enough to change his mind.)

The Things She Carried

Part 4. Human After All

Dean x Reader

Masterpost with all the parts

Summary: Dean meets a huntress. Well, he would define her a robot. At least until he gets to know her…

Word Count: 1700+

Warnings: Potentially triggering for those who have lost their mom.

Tags: @mrswhozeewhatsis @daydreamingintheimpala @mysoul4dean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @amoreagron @spnfangirl1965 @aristtewinchesterholmes @thisisthelilith @chelsea072498 @aiaranradnay @skymoonandstardust @apeshit7x @anokhi07 @tatortot2701 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @mangasia @squirrellover1967@sharkeeshark @maui137 @electricbluecas @kazchester-fanfiction @gabavaldman @riversong-sam @lavieenlex @zanthiasplace @holywaterbucketchallenge @soullessbabee @loricwizardbluetoastedcake @extreme-supernatural-lover @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @barneybrigade @iliketowrite02 @itschelseabennett @mogaruke @stormisamystery

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The Kitchens

part ii


There wasn’t a time Sirius loved more than the beginning of summer. The promise of days and days of sun ahead of him. And, perhaps more so, the fact that those days were free of lessons and completely his—for the most part—to do with whatever he pleased. And there was also the parties. Sirius hated his family, that was true, but he couldn’t say he minded the connections, the money.

He laughed to himself. James would have smacked him right about now.

He had called for some food and blankets to be laid out by the swimming hole just off to the left of the castle for him and Regulus, only Regulus had yet to show. Sirius had spent the first hour waiting, but now floating lazily on his back. Regulus was making a habit of ditching Sirius lately. He wished he could call his younger brother pompous and call it a day but the hurt prickled inside of him like an unreachable itch. Sirius sighed, kicking out into the middle of the water. At least the sun hadn’t disappointed.

He’d asked James to come—he probably would have had loads more fun that way— but it was his day off. And Sirius knew, even as James sent him a guilty smile, that he didn’t stand a chance. Not when—what was her name again? Lily, Lily who worked as a housemaid, yes. Not when Lily was going to be at the pub in town. Sirius had waved him off. He didn’t want James to think he could, or ever would, make him stay. The truth was that James was his first and only friend. And Sirius was his employer. They were friends, of course, but work came first. Sirius was a prince first in James’ mind no matter how much he insisted against it. And he had insisted.

Apparently it was a prince’s job to swim and spend the summer alone. Of course, his mind did flash briefly to someone… but it was probably his day off too. Sirius would probably ruin it with some snide, accidental comment anyhow. His mother’s voice chided him in his head: Ghastly, Sirius, to be hanging about with that lot. Positively ghastly.

Sirius groaned, flipping into the water and kicking downward towards the muddy bottom.

~

The kitchen was burning. He’d been happy to have the room to himself, having finally convinced James and the others that he’d rather stay in—he really did want to try out the chocolate cake recipe Mrs. Potter had found for him even if James didn’t buy it—up until he’d gotten the ovens going. The coals felt like they were right on his neck. But he stayed, throwing all the windows open and mixing and cutting and whisking until it was a pleasant temperature with a cool breeze. The smell of summer and chocolate was a match made in heaven. He hummed to himself absentmindedly as he checked the recipe card, running his finger down the slightly heat smudged ink. As he stirred and checked, stirred and check, his mind went elsewhere, as it often did when he was baking.

Sirius hadn’t stayed long after Remus had found him the biscuits. He’d eaten one, and they’d sat there, next to each other, Remus trying to pretend he wasn’t staring, Sirius trying to pretend he wasn’t catching him.

A prince, Remus had told himself, Get out now, push it down, leave it be. Forget.

That had been Remus’ method for years. With the grocery boy in his home town, with the baker’s son in the village for a time being, even with James for brief period when he’d first got here—he’d gotten over that one quickly.

He had tried to deny this one, but honestly, his breath had caught the second Sirius crouched down next to him by the fire. That was not what he had been expecting. He wasn’t saying Sirius was perfect. He was clearly not a man of both worlds. He was slightly obnoxious, slightly oblivious, slightly pompous, and, possibly, slightly attractive. Note the slightly. But he was kind. Remus saw it in the smiles that slipped through. He was born into the obnoxious, oblivious, pompousness, but the kindness was his own. Remus had overheard his mother—the queen—giving Mrs. Potter instructions for a banquet before. Yes, the kindness was all Sirius. Remus’ stirring had slowed into a lazy motion that he was no longer conscious of. He frowned out the window. And Sirius would catch himself. Repeatedly. He watched him realize what he had said and look sorry for it. Comments like that were burned into him but he was slowly realizing. Maybe he had James to thank for that, but Remus had a sneaking suspicion it was Sirius’ realization as well.

“Always alone.”

Remus whipped his head around, only just managing to keep his bowl on the table, and let out a breathless laugh. He was met with a smiling, rather wet Sirius.

“That’s the third time. I’m starting to think you like doing that.”

Sirius walked in, his shirt sticking in patches to his damp skin. Remus swallowed, dragging his eyes back to Sirius’ face, “Can I get you anything?”

Sirius heaved himself onto a stool across from Remus, eyeing his bowl, “No, I don’t think so… Thought everyone would be at the pub. I just… didn’t want to go upstairs.”

Remus started whisking again, adding a few sifts of flour to thicken the chocolate paste, “No?”

“My mum’s planning a party. First of the summer’s, it’s-”

“Summer’s Eve.” Remus finished, shooting Sirius a smile.

Sirius set him a lopsided grin, “Right. Right, you’d know about that…”

“Always liked watching the dancing.”

Sirius worried his lip, eyebrows pulling together, “Yeah?”

“‘Course.”

Sirius picked up an egg, holding it between his palms, “How long have you been here?”

Remus leveled off some sugar, crushing some clumps with his fingers, “I think its about a year now.”

Remus looked over the measuring cup when Sirius simply hummed, only to find him staring back at him.

“Funny, that we’ve never met.” Sirius said after a moment.

Remus raised an eyebrow, dumping the sugar in, “Not really.”

Sirius huffed out a laugh, “Yeah. Yeah, not really..”

Remus looked away from Sirius’ smile, swallowing over the heat bubbling in his chest. He was suddenly very aware at just how filthy his apron was. Not to mention his shirt. He glanced quietly at the hole in his left shoe toe.

“Why aren’t in town, anyway? I figured everyone would be at the pub. This place is deserted. Well, except for you.”

Remus cut a slab of soft butter, smoothing it around the bottom of the pan with his knife, and tried to shrug as casually as he could, “Dunno. Don’t like the pub much.”

“Why? Everyone likes the pub.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “How would you know?”

Sirius straightened, eyeing Remus, “Everyone seems to like the pub. Or really, I guess everyone just seems to like the girls there.”

Remus laughed, “True.”

Remus saw Sirius lean forward on his elbows in his peripheral vision, “Don’t you like a girl there? Or here? Someone to go with.”

Remus felt the familiar discomfort at this question rising in his stomach, “No,” he cleared his throat, crumpling some parchment paper in his fist, “No, not particularly.”

“No?” He heard something, something in Sirius’ voice. He couldn’t tell what it was, but he feared the worst.

“Not at the moment, I mean. I’m sure I’ll- I’m sure there’s someone. Just- I’m just waiting for- that someone.” He sounded idiotic and he knew it.

“Oh. Of course. That must be nice.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, “Being alone?”

Sirius looked up at him from where his gaze had been focused on the egg he was holding. His eyes were sad and honest, “Being able to choose.”

Remus opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “Oh.”

Remus threw everything he had into squashing the feeling that was rising in his chest. Of course. He’s a prince. You know your place and it isn’t with… It can never be with-

Sirius shook his head a little, pushing his wet hair off his forehead so it stick up in the front. He offered Remus a small smile, “You must be just loving this. Listening to me complain. You probably think I have the whole world and yet here I am..”

Remus scoffed, snapping out of it and pouring the batter into the pan over the parchment paper, “That’s an awfully big assumption.”

Sirius sighed, rolling the egg on the table, eyes following it as it changed directions on its own, “Yes. You’re right.”

He was much more willing to admit Remus was right today.

Remus turned back around from pushing the cake into the oven, dusting flour off his hands, “Do you even know how to cook that?”

“Nope.”

Remus smiled, “That’s pathetic.”

Sirius jolted up at that, “I beg your-“

“Sorry.” Remus was still smiling.

Sirius’ eyes were narrowed but Remus could see the smile that was threatening to show itself.

“Can you do the Summer’s Waltz?”

Remus blinked, “What?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “Can you?”

“Well, no-“

“Exactly.”

Remus stared at him for a few moments, “I’m lost.”

“I’ve no reason to know how to cook an egg, so I can’t. You can. You’ve no reason to know the Summer’s Waltz, so you can’t. But I do, so I can.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Yes, alright, very clever.”

Sirius smiled. Remus turned to the oven with one of his own. The flames seemed less bright that that smile.

Get out now, push it down, leave it be.

Remus took a deep breath. Forget.

“Am… Am I bothering you?”

Remus turned to Sirius once more, rather too quickly, “Hm? What?”

Sirius actually looked a little sheepish, “It’s just… I realized I just sort of… came in. You were alone. I don’t know-“

“No.” Again, too quickly, “No,” Remus cleared his throat, “You’re fine. I mean- I mean to say you- I mean, of course you can be here. You’re you.”

Sirius’ brows pulled together, corners of his mouth turning down, “That’s not what I meant.”

Remus took a shaky breath. Of course you’re fine, I want you here, “I know. Sorry. I don’t mind you being here. I’m just testing recipes…”

Sirius seemed to relax a little and got up, spying the recipe card on the table, “But you bake every other day of the week…”

Remus was very aware that Sirius was right next to him, and very aware that he hadn’t bathed that morning, “Well… I like chocolate.”

Sirius looked at him.

Remus motioned to the oven, “I never get to bake for myself. I like chocolate, I made chocolate cake.”

Sirius was quiet, just nodding and looking so intently at Remus that he felt his cheeks start to heat.

“It will be ready soon… If you-“

“Yes.”

Remus almost laughed at the quick response, “Alright…”

The lapsed into a silence. Remus alternating between watching the cake and watching Sirius, and Sirius alternating between rolling the egg and watching Remus.

Remus poked fun at Sirius when he watched in (almost) awe as he took the cake from the oven, and nearly hit him when he recounted how different it looked without all the dressings and plates.

“Absolutely ridiculous…” Remus muttered under his breath.

“Can we…”

Remus looked up when Sirius trailed off. Sirius’ hair was dry now and slightly fluffy around his ears from the heat, and with the way his cheeks were heating up Remus took a step back. Because he didn’t look royal right then, in his fluffy hair and bare feet. He looked normal. He looked attainable.

No one you look at is attainable.

“Can we..?” Remus prompted.

Sirius straightened, “Can we eat it like this?”

Remus blinked and his mouth slowly formed a smile, “Had too much of proper life, have you?”

Sirius shot him a look and Remus sat down and dug his fingers into the cake, taking a rather large chunk out of the side. Sirius grinned almost impishly and pulled a stool over next to Remus, taking a chunk from the other side.

“My god.” He said, “This is fucking brilliant.”

“The eating method or the cake?” Remus said through cake.

“Both.” Sirius sighed, “Can’t remember liking dessert this much in a long time.”

“Excuse you!” It came out sounding more like hue hu! and Remus swallowed, “I make that dessert.”

Sirius held his hands up in mock surrender, “I think it’s good and all, don’t get me wrong. I’ve just… I don’t know.” He was quiet for a moment and then, “Maybe the company makes the meal.”

Remus started, blinking at Sirius. He had chocolate on his upper lip, his hair was still fluffy, his cheeks were even more pink than before. And Remus could feel the tug. The familiar, forbidden tug.

“I-“ He was out of his seat before he knew what he was doing, chair screeching back against the slate floor painfully, “Um.”

Sirius stood too, “Remus..“

Remus couldn’t decide if it was a plea or a question. He wanted to stay. God, Sirius had only said his name and he wanted to staystaystay.

“You can have the rest of the cake. I’ve just remembered-” His mind drew a blank to any excuse he could have made.

And he was gone, leaving Sirius alone in the kitchen with half a cake and a frown.

Relentless | Calum Hood Series Pt.18

                                          Part E I G H T E E N 

Request: Being the cousin of Ashton Irwin was exciting, especially when invited to their tour to hang out with his best friends. You found yourself becoming fond of Calum Hood, who finds you annoying from your constant appearance. But what would happen if you stopped giving him that attention?

Word Count: 3k+

A/N: hi hi!! this chapter is fairly laid back but nonetheless important! im so happy that you guys love this series, but its about to come to an end :( its gonna be so sad, but i wanna let you guys know that ive had so much fun writing this for you guys. like really, thank you so much for the opportunity, you guys. lets get this to 100, yeah? :) xx

oh, also prepare for smut lmfaooo @ pt 19

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. [DONE]  

                                                    I M A G I N E 

Hilton Rooftop, 9:55 P.M. 

“How fucking dare you touch my girlfriend like that?” Calum growled at the male on the ground before him. 

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Hoseok - Dope Series

Originally posted by bangthebae

You were a boring office worker who met race car driver, Jung Hoseok, at a bar and things progressed in the backseat of his car.

Genre: Fluff | Smut
Members: Hoseok x Reader
Word count: 5179


Masterlist

Seokjin | Yoongi | Hoseok Namjoon | Jimin | Taehyung | Jungkook

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Mama’s Boy

Reader x Klaus

(NOT MY GIF)

Imagine: you had Klaus’ baby and now he’s all jealous of your relationship with his son. 

*Requested

Word Count: 1591

“I still can’t believe you’re a mum!” Elena said, as she watched a little boy ice skating. “And, God, he looks like Klaus.”

You let out a small giggle.

Four years ago your whole life changed. One minute you were an ordinary witch who often helped out her best friends and the other you were bearing a miraculous child. And it had to be your biggest enemie’s kid as well, so everybody think you were helping him all along.

You shook your head, not actually believing how unlucky you were back then.

[4 years ago]

Shit.” You cursed, looking at the small pregnancy test in your hand. “Shit. Shit. Shit!”

About a month ago you had gotten into a fight with your older sister and left the house, wanting to get really drunk and forget about everything that was going on. It was not enough to have a chaotic home, you had to deal with the whole Original family at town. Some sort of freak wanted to kill your best friend and, surely, you stepped up to find a way to stop him.

At the Mystic Grill, you ordered the finest whiskey there, neat and no ice. It was a good sensation, the alcohol making its way through your throat.

“Aren’t you a little young to be drinking this?” A stranger asked, his voice tone light.

“You should mind your own business and leave me alone.” You replied, annoyed by his presence.

“I like the attitude. May I know your name, darling?”

“I don’t see why do you want to know my name.”

“Don’t be rude, love.”

You finally bothered to look at him and, heck, he was handsome. The stranger had beautiful blond curls, the kind you would not mind losing your fingers in it, blue eyes, like the wide ocean, a badly shaved beard and a devilish smile. Just looking at him made you skip a breath.

“It’s Y/N.”

“Oh, well, can I have the same drink Y/N ordered?”

“Are you sure you want that?” You asked, not caring if he was an inconvenient stranger. Perhaps it was exactly what you were needing.

“Sure, love, I would love to taste the flavour that is in your mouth now.”

You bit your lower lip and sipped your own drink, looking directly to him.

“Are you new in town? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“You could say that. I lived here long ago and now I’m coming back.”

“Ah, that’s nice.”

“And you?”

“I’m actually not from here. My mum and I moved a few years ago.”

And, as you got to know that stranger, you realised how much you were alike. He had the same awful childhood, his father hated him much like yours did hate you and a whole other bunch of things. That connection was decisive for accepting his invitation to go back to his place and have a more private conversation.

“So are you up for more drinking or will pass?”

“I think I’ll pass, I like drinking, but being sober is better.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

“You know, I think I didn’t ask your name, huh?”

“No, you haven’t. But it’s Klaus.”

“German name.”

“Sort of, comes from Niklaus.”

“It’s, hum, a unique name.”

You relaxed in the couch and looked directly at him. So far it had been a wonderful night and all you wanted was a suitable end for it. The blond slowly touched your knee and you gave him a smile, encouraging him to move forward.

“There’s something you need to know.” Klaus whispered, between kisses.

“You’re a vampire. Yeah, I know, save it, I’m a witch.”

“At least I’m not the only one keeping secrets.”

“Will you shut up?”

Giggling, he ceased the talking and went for it. Leaving you with a great memory and a goofy smile. Only if you knew you would end up pregnant. What would people think? And how the hell you were so stupid not to connect the dots and understand that was Klaus Mikaelson? Oh, damn it. You could see in how much trouble you were in, realising your friends would think you were lying about not knowing who he was back then. Oh, and how  you were supposed to tell Niklaus about this baby?

“I’m screwed.”

{a few months later}

“Klaus, you don’t have to follow my every step.”

“I’m just making sure my daughter is okay.”

“It could be a boy, you know.”

You sat in a nursing chair, rocking back and forward. Your hands were placed in a small bump, showing your five completed months of pregnancy. Klaus approached and knelt before you, putting his own hands over yours. The baby kicked and you smiled, for it was the first time it had ever did that with his father around.

The Original’s eyes were surprised and you removed your hands, letting him free to touch and feel it as long as he wished for it.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“For what?”

“Giving me this amazing gift.”

“You have given me this too, Nik.”

“I love when you call me Nik.”

You blushed a little.

“And also when I make you embarrassed.”

This time both of you giggled, being interrupted by a ridiculous phone, which was ringing at its fullest. It would probably be the gang, wanting you to fix something. They trusted you to convince Klaus to give up making hybrids, but, sadly. That was out of reach.

“Oh, hello, Elena!”

“Give me that phone, Klaus.”

“She’s here, yes.”

Niklaus!”

“Okay, I’m handing it over.”

He stayed in the room, though, stroking your belly and talking to it with funny voices. You could not help but smile. That man would make a great father. A messed up one, of course, but also a really caring and loving one.

[4 years later]

“Henrik? We need to get going!” You called out for your son.

“Already, mama?”

“Yes, daddy is waiting for us. Don’t you want to see daddy?”

His eyes lightened up.

“I wanna see daddy!”

“Then let’s go!” You kissed his cheek and send him to get his stuff. “Thank you for the afternoon, Elena.”

“You’re welcome. And don’t disappear again, ok? Give me a call every now and then.”

“I’ll do that.”

“So how’s Klaus?”

“Causing trouble in New Orleans. There’s nothing new at that.”

“Good luck, then.” Elena stated, her eyes showing her curiosity.”I still don’t know how you deal with him.”

“He’s complicated, I admit it. But there’s light in him, Elena, every time he kisses me I’m sure of that.”

She smiled, agreeing silently with you. 

“If you say so, I believe it.”

“Now I really have to go, Henrik needs to eat. Bye, Elena.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

You placed Henrik’s staff at the back of the car and put him in his baby car seat, buckling him up. In a couple of minutes you were in the way home. A loud music playing and your son’s laughs were enough to make you happy.

The Compound seemed empty when you arrived.

“Nik? Are you home?”

“Over here.” You heard his voice coming from the kitchen. 

“Daddy!” Henrik ran, to hug his father. “I went ice skating with mama.”

“That’s great!”

“Are you cooking, Mr. Mikaelson?” You raised an eyebrow.

Aside the mess he made, the room smelt delicious. You knew Klaus was trying to bribe his son. Apparently, he was jealous of you and him, because your child would always seek your help, instead of his. A complete mother’s boy.

“Yes, I made your favourite, Rik.”

“Thanks, daddy.”

He looked at his father, curious, then came to you, pulling your shirt for you lean over, allowing him to whisper in your ear:

“Mama, I think dad is trying to enter out team.”

A loud laugh escaped your lips.

“Yeah, I think he is.”

“What are you two talking about?”

“Henrik was saying…”

“Mum! Don’t tell him, please.” He blushed. 

“Can I please know what’s going on? You never tell me anything!”

“I’m sorry, daddy. I just… Mama gets me in a way you don’t.”

Klaus took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. You bit your lip, trying to hold a laugh as the Mikaelson looked like he was about to explode.

“I’m your father! You are supposed to look up to me.”

“Nik, don’t push him too much. He’ll let you in our team.”

“You have a team?”

His accent made the whole situation even cuter. You glanced over Klaus and back to the beautiful four year old blond you called son, winking at him. It was fun, to mess with the Mikaelson man.

“We do.”

“How can I join?”

“Well, there’s only two conditions:” Henrik said, raising two of his little fingers. “First mama has to allow it and second, you have to love her very much, like I do.”

“Well, the second one it’s covered." 

A proud smile was in your lips.

"So mama, are you letting daddy in?”

“Of course I am, otherwise your dad would die!”

The three of you laughed.

“Now, go eat that yummy pasta.”

“Yeah!”

Klaus put an arm around your waist and you leant in, enjoying his warmth. It was good that, even with all the trouble you had to face, you could still be a happy family, enjoying little pleasures such as arguing on who is more loved by your son.

“And, so you know, he adores you. You’re like a superhero to him.”

Klaus smiled and squeezed you even more into his embrace.

“I know.”

The Aftermath

Pairing: Alexander Hamilton x reader

Words: 3.1k+ (whoa)

Prompt: Follow-up to Alex x reader drabble: “Hammy being sad, y/n being sad. OHH WHAT IF they got back together and y/n gets pregnant..only to find that so did the other lady”

[MASTERLIST]

Warnings: cussing, a lil bit of smut, cheating, pregnancy, some slut-shaming

You never wanted to see Alexander again. Not after he cheated, destroying your marriage and family. You didn’t want to look into those soft brown eyes that once held such love for you and your children, only to remember the way they looked the night that everything changed, lust-blown and glazed with tears as you left.

But you had to go back. It had been a week since your sister left and since you were supposed to return home with your children, but you still stayed at your father’s, avoiding the inevitable. Your father had offered to let you and your children move back in with him, since he was a single, lonely man in a large house; but you needed the rest of your things from your former home.

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Facebook Live

Originally posted by berezneva12

Pairing: Jared x Reader, Tom, Shep
Word count: 1,327
Warnings: Angry!Jared, rude people, a swear
Request: Anonymous. Could you please write an imagine where Jared is dating a much younger woman (like 20-22) and they both get a ton of hate because of it. And then at a convention someone asks her a really rude question about their relationship during her panel and Tom and Shep hear or they see her getting hate online and they get super upset because they love her. And then Jared gets SUPER pissed off because someone made his kids and gf upset



It never bothered you that there was an age difference between you and Jared. You were almost 22, and he was 34. That was nothing in your mind. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hear of age differences in older couples, so why should yours be an issue?

Not everyone felt that way, however. You did your best to avoid reading comments and hate blogs. It didn’t always work, but you tried not to let it get to you. Some people were just hateful, or needed an outlet.

Jared and the boys loved you, and that’s all that mattered. Now and then, the three of you would join him at cons. It was fun getting to see him interact with fans, and it warmed your heart when you saw some of them truly touched by meeting him. He’d done a lot of good with his fame, something that made you love him more.

Currently, you were on your way down to watch one of the panels, loving how goofy they got. They were not afraid to have fun, that was for sure.

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Love You To Death 🌙

A/N: So I stumbled upon this in my word documents, which I wrote when I was thirteen years old. And I must admit that my writing style hasn’t changed much in the past four years, much to my embarrassment (oops). Please forgive me if you find any cringey stuff in this fic because let me repeat, thirteen years old and I know that most of us refuse to acknowledge our thirteen year old selves. Anyway, enjoy some kinky ghost Kai while I finish up requests x

Pairing(s): Kai/Jongin x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Genre: Very light smut/light supernatural

Requested: No

Summary: You and Ghost! Kai ‘interact’ with each other in the wee hours of the morning.

Word Count: 2563

*Side Note: This is a snippet from an old fic of mine, so if certain aspects are unclear, don’t fuss about them too much.

Originally posted by datkaidoe

As silently as I can, I shut the door behind me and quietly slip on my Converse. The icy night air whips at my face, numbing it as I make my way down the pitch-black corridor, occasionally bumping myself against the wall.

Ow.

Using my phone as a flashlight, I slowly navigate my way to the end of the corridor and inch up the creaky stairs that links to the attic. I’m not even supposed to be awake at this time of night as it is forbidden in the dorm…but who’s to stop me from doing what I want?

The trapdoor to the attic is stiff and creaky from lack of use but I manage to open it eventually. Dust surrounds me as I squint into the darkness, desperately searching for what I’m looking for.

Books, old clothes, broken furniture…

I paw through the piles of junk blindly, hoping to feel the silkiness of the cloth-wrapped package that (Y/F/N) chucked away. Then I stop, goosebumps forming on my arms and the hairs at the back of my neck standing on end. The temperature of the atmosphere drops rapidly.

He’s here.

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A Slippery Situation

This fic was borne out of a silly conversation with @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash on this post. I hope that I did the idea justice. :)

Summary: Negan eats some questionable soup while working late and encounters an alternate version of himself. This “Other Negan” may be a little older and shorter than him, but he might just have some things to teach Negan about oil wrestling and the love that a man can share for his ruggedly handsome TV clone. 

Word count: 4,301

Warnings: Smut, Negan, Negan being Negan, Comic Negan being Comic Negan, submission, domination, anal sex, unsafe sex, oral sex, semen, drugs, mention of incest, mention of masturbation, and oil wrestling! Enjoy!

A Slippery Situation

From the very first spoon-full, Negan knew that the soup tasted funny, but went right ahead with his meal anyway. Hell, most things that came in cans had started to taste funny as they exceeded their best before dates by months and years. Besides this, the Sanctuary’s cooking staff were notoriously terrible at their job, so everything that left their kitchen tended to taste a slightly “off” at best, and barely edible at worst.

“I’ve gotta find some new kitchen bitches like fucking yesterday,” he grumbled to no one in particular as he raised the spoon to his lips and grimaced at the slightly sour taste that invaded his mouth.

The soup was so bad that on another day he probably would have had one of his men bring it back to the kitchen and tear a strip off of whoever was in charge of that night’s meal, but he was far too busy for those kind of shenanigans today. He braved his way nearly to the end of the bowl, trying to fill his empty stomach with the disgusting liquid while actually tasting as little of it as he could manage. He mostly succeeded and only retched once near the end when the soup had begun to cool to room temperature and the taste could no longer be masked by its initial scalding temperatures.

“Fucking good for nothing, lazy asshole fucking, so called fucking cooks. Fuck, fucking fuckity fuck fuck fuck!” he exhaled a long sigh of profanity after regaining control of his gag reflex, and pushed the nearly-empty bowl of soup away in disgust.

As he sat alone in his room, going over battle plans in preparation for another day of squabbling with Alexandria, he felt his mind wander back to the god-forsaken soup. Fucking Christ, how he wished he had time to personally march down to the kitchen and force-feed the cold leftovers of his meal to the first member of the staff he laid eyes upon. A tension headache began to gnaw into the centre of his forehead and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, slamming his eyes shut.

“Oh fucking great! Just fucking marvelous! A fucking headache is all I need now…”

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Apollo pt. 8

Apollo Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: Writer blocks can be really frustrating, and sometimes having a “muse” doesn’t really help either. - Specially when your inspiration might not be there with you forever. ModernAU!

Warnings: Sad sex(? I wouldn’t consider this smut though. None of my smut could be considered smutty.

Words: 3986

A/N: There’s a sudden change of pronouns concerning the reader, and there’s a reason behind it. Please send me an ask with your theories, I’d love to know what do you guys think!


Originally posted by benedictinlove

“I know you know where she is, please!” Bucky tried to take a step forward into Wanda’s apartment, her tiny body impeding it. She looked exhausted, tired of talking about the issue. “I have gone all over NYC trying to find somebody willing to share her location, I’m drained.”

“We haven’t talked for months, Buck. I’m as worried as you.” Her head hit the frame of the door, eyes closed as her soft voice tried to persuade him. He tilted his head, confused, as if she hadn’t been telling him the same thing over and over since he knocked on her door.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been awhile since we last hanged out. You can ask Nat, though. I think she’s still in touch with (y/n).” Bucky swallowed, immediately discarding that option. By how she knocked the shit out of him that night, it wasn’t hard to predict that she wasn’t going to say a word about it.

“Is she being picky about choosing friends?” He asked, trying to joke a little bit, to lighten the situation. “Money has changed her, huh?” Her expression hardened, tensing up her whole body as she finally grabbed the doorknob.

“Just go look for her somewhere else, Buck.” Bucky noticed her tired and evading demeanour, and he somehow figured out that this issue was hurting her. At the same time in his mind multiple alarms started to sound, warning him that something was off with you, even though he haven’t had the opportunity of seeing you yet. 

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You’re Not There

Based on the song: You’re Not There by Lukas Graham

Word Count: 2080

Warnings: Angst. Death.

A/N: I had a weird day and was feeling super angsty/depressed. Then that song came on my iPod and I just… I just had to write.

Version en Español:Tú No Estás Allí


Her gratitude was etched into every worry line and wrinkle on her face as she hugged her little boy close. Over his shoulder, the woman stared up at Dean with watery eyes. “Thank you so much!”

With a little wave and smile, Dean turned and walked away. Another hunt and another win. Everyone made it out alive except for the monster. A year ago he would have celebrated with you. A year ago, he would have let your excitement at seeing a family reunited wash over him. A year ago, you would have wrapped your arm around his waist and guided him to the Impala with a beautiful smile painted on your lips.

A year ago, everything was different.

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anonymous asked:

I am desperate for the Zelink Mafia AU update! Please share their first kiss and/or confession with us!

Rated T.


“That dress looks beautiful on you!” Paya cooed, clasping her hands together while Zelda twisted in front of the mirror in the dressing room.

“You really think so?” Zelda calmly assessed the fine details of the white gown she wore. The gold accents glinted in the harsh light of the department store they were in, but only served to make the dress shimmer as she spun around. “I feel as though it could potentially be too revealing for my father’s tastes…”

“No, not at all! It fits you perfectly.” Paya grinned at her friend. They were in the middle of shopping for a dress for a wedding that was to be held at Zelda’s father’s house. It was for one of his men, and it was supposed to be a huge affair.

Parties always exhausted her.

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HOW WE CAME TO BE pt 1

Prompts #43  “Is that blood?” “No?” “That’s not a question you answer with another question.”

A/N: This was requested with another prompt, but I planned it to where the other prompt meshes with someone else’s. You know what it’s like to get something in your head and not be able to go back on it, right? It’s a force.

 Remember that these are all sort of connected together. You could read them as stand-alone, but that’s up to you. So the timeline may not be in order but just imagine it like This Is Us (unless you’ve never seen an episode of that show or just have never heard of it.)

 As I’m doing my finishing touches and edits, I’m just starting season 6. I found “Sigh No More” by Mumford and Sons after writing this. I’m just putting that info out there. Do what you want with it. This is approx. 2360 words. Oh, my goodness.


There’s no way this is happening,” you thought to yourself as you looked at the stick in your hands. “Holy ice cream, Batman.

The stick hadn’t given a response at that point, but you knew. There was no doubt in your mind, you knew. There were so many things that should have been going through your mind. But you couldn’t actually form a coherent thought. You thought maybe you were afraid, maybe not. Maybe you were worried about how Spencer would take it, maybe not. Maybe you were concerned about what you would do about money, but then maybe you knew it would all work out. Everything was a maybe, no actual concrete feeling.

“Oh, gosh.” You placed a hand on your head and sat on the edge of the toilet in your bathroom. YOUR bathroom, because you and Spencer hadn’t even been living together.

You gathered yourself after staring into space holding the test in your hand for more than a few minutes. You got up from your seat on the tub edge and tossed the offending plastic into the trash, you didn’t need to see the results. You needed Haagen-Dazs. You wished you could blame all of your Haagen-Dazs cravings on a baby.

By the time you got your gray pea coat buttoned and went to slip on your black ballet flats, your phone was ringing. You heaved a great sigh and fished it out of your pocket. You answered it without looking at the ID.

“Emotionally Drained and* Sorta Dead Inside, speak.”

“Uh, Y/N?”

Your eyes grew as big as The Grinch’s heart after he discovered the true meaning of Christmas. “JJ?!?”

“You okay? You’re not usually so melodramatic when you answer the phone. Okay, I take that back, you’re not so out of it and melodramatic when you answer the phone. Is everything alright?” Your boyfriend’s co-worker’s voice called through the other end.

“What? No…yeah- I’m fine. I’m- Is everything okay on your end? You don’t usually call in the middle of the work day.” You stood in your doorway, unsure if you were going to be putting your shoes on or not.

“Well,” JJ sighed. “Look, I know it’s your day off and so does Spencer.”

“What’s wrong?” You fingered the set of keys in your hand and slipped your shoes on. There goes my Haagen-Dazs.

The woman stalled for a few breaths. “JJ.”

“Spencer had a small accident. It’s nothing major-”

“What? If it were nothing major, you wouldn’t have called or started this conversation the way you did.” You opened the door and closed it quickly behind you, completely forgetting to lock it. “Which hospital is he at?”

“See that’s the thing, Y/N, he’s not. He opted out. He’s not in any immediate danger, but you know we have rules and protocols. I’ve never seen him refuse medical attention like this before. At least not when…”

“Right, the Dilaudid.” You fast-walked down the sidewalks towards the closest bus stop that would get you to your destination the fastest. “I’m going to assume y’all are back at your building?”

JJ sighed in relief. “I can have someone come pick you up?”

“I’m already at the bus stop. The bus will be here in about,” you checked your phone for the time. “Half an hour. Ugh.”

You scrunched your nose at the oncoming nausea making its way through your system. This was NOT the day for all the…hullabaloo. Maybe if I can convince Spence to go to the hospital, I can sneak off for a minute. Do I need a prescription for prenatal vitamins?

Sometimes you do, why?” You heard JJ say, quickly remembering you were on the phone with her.

“What? Why what?”

“You asked if a prescription was needed for prenatal vitamins. It depends on what you need. Why would you ask, Y/N?”

I need to stop saying inside things on the outside. “No, I didn’t.”

“Y/N…”

“You said you could get me a ride? That’d be awesome. You can find out where I am from my phone’s GPS, right? Cool. I’ll see you guys soon.” You quickly ended the call and took a deep breath.

You were screwed.

Penelope Garcia, your favorite cousin of a friend to ever exist, was the one to pick you up. She had located you via GPS and was very quick.  She didn’t say anything that led you to believe that JJ had relayed to her what you discussed earlier. All that was mentioned was that Spencer and a suspect had gotten into a small…tiff… and your boyfriend was refusing to go to the hospital.

When you made it to the bullpen, it was empty of the team. Penelope walked away after surveying the room, and you followed her into the conference room. Spencer, you found, was sitting in a chair surrounded by his co-workers. You didn’t see Derek Morgan, but you could feel it the second JJ laid her eyes on you. Hotch was explaining to you in detail what had happened. Spencer wouldn’t look you in the eye, and you wondered if it were because he knew you’d want him to go in. You, however, were busy making sure that JJ’s eyes wouldn’t catch yours. For some reason, the shame in the room was palpable, but you didn’t know why. What was Spencer so upset about? And why were you so scared about JJ knowing the truth?

“Is that blood,” you asked while looking at where the collar of his shirt met his skin.

Spencer rolled his lips inward. “No?”

“Spencer! That’s not a question you answer with another question!” You fingered the cloth and gently pushed it out of the way so you could see what the injury better.

“Will you please tell Pretty Boy that he needs to go get checked by the actual doctors at the actual hospital?” Garcia had one hand on her hip and stared her co-worker down.

“I am a-” Spencer began but was silenced when her finger wagged in his face.

“Don’t even.”

Spencer heaved a sigh and then looked at you, almost pleadingly. He played up the puppy dog eyes, and it would have worked, had it not been for the cut under his eye and bruising along his cheek and nose. Looking down you could see some of his button up undershirt had been torn, and there were some cuts under that, too.

“Get your stuff. We’re going. No arguing.” You raked your fingers through your hair, still trying to fight off the nausea. “I’m sure you’re completely fine and a-OK, but if you don’t go in, I’m going to pull my hair out from getting it from your co-workers. And then I’ll have to go to the God-awful salon and listen to them nit-pick everything about me, and I’m not about to deal with that.

Someone softly cleared their throat, and you blinked a few times and sighed. Hormones off the charts, check. Next thing I’ll do is barf over everything.

“Are you feeling OK? You’re looking a little green. Someone can take Spencer instead if you feel you need to lay down.” Your boyfriend’s supervisor asked.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You leaned on the chair sitting in front of you and then looked up shaking your hair out of your face. “No, I’m fine. I just…had a crazy morning. I can take him, it’s not an issue.”

“Y/N…” Your boyfriend looked up at you almost in worry.

“Spencer, I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about. Let’s just get you checked out and take you home, hmm?” You leaned towards him and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek while grabbing his coat.

Looking up, you accidentally caught JJ’s eyes and you had a silent and brief conversation. You knew she’d be calling you later, but you also knew she wouldn’t say anything to anybody. She had gone through the same thing. You were grateful already.

When you and Spencer were situated in the waiting room of the hospital, he kept eyeing you. You knew he could tell something was off. You also knew that there was no way he would be able to figure it out so soon. He’d been so busy lately that he hadn’t been around to really see any of the signs.

The second he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, you relaxed. You sort of leaned against his arm and laid your head on his shoulder, trying not to irritate any of his injuries. Feeling his breathing was soothing you and you wondered if there was something biological about it because your nausea cut down. Maybe that was going to be a positive sign for the future. Although, no one could make you feel the way Spencer could.

“I love you,” you blurted with your head still tucked in the crook of his neck.

Spencer squeezed your hand and hummed “I love you, too, Y/N.”

It had taken about 15 minutes before the two of you got called back but eventually, you were shown to a room. Spencer sat on the examination bed and you sat in the chair over in the corner. It was silent for a few minutes while you waited for the doctor to come see you. But just because it was silent didn’t mean the room was loud with tension, thick with it.

Oh, Spencer could definitely tell something was up. You wouldn’t meet his eyes, and you knew your snappiness back at the bureau was completely out of character. You might be able to use the “no sleep” excuse with him, but the second you’d voice it he’d want to come home with you. He’d want to be somewhere close to keep an eye on you. The thing was, was that if he did that, then you wouldn’t be able to hide the morning sickness that you knew was coming.

“Are you going on ‘Spencer Watch’ when we get out?” He wasn’t looking at you, and he was fiddling with his sleeve cuff.

Maybe it’s not me I should be worried about.

A few seconds passed, and he still wouldn’t look at you. You were about to get up and try to figure out what was wrong when someone walked into the room. You’d hold it in until you were on your way back home.

Spencer had been cleared by the doctor after the cuts and bruises were deemed superficial. He didn’t need any stitches, just some R&R. He was driving while you studied his profile. His demeanor was still wary.

“Were you worried that you would have to be on painkillers? Is that why you were so ashamed and afraid to go get checked out?”

Silence.

You grabbed his hand and held it tight. “I believe in you, Spence. Believe in yourself, huh? Believe that you’re going to be okay. I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Spencer let out a breath and gave a delicate smile. “Yeah, I know. Same goes for you.”

Uh-oh.

You forced your eyes to look out the windshield and away from him. There was no way he could have figured it but you knew deep down that it was entirely possible that he already did. The guy was a genius. A profiler for the FBI. He didn’t get to where he was by accepting things at face value. He was better than that.

“You shouldn’t be afraid to tell me things, Y/N. You know all of my secrets, deeply hidden or not.” He put the car in park and turned as best as he could still in his seat belt. “What’s going on in my favorite brain?”

You giggled as he playfully ruffled the hair on top of your head. Running your fingers through your locks to set everything back in its place, you thought it over but ultimately came to a single conclusion.

“It’s work. We’re prepping for a new resident and it’s off-putting for the ones that are there, and it’s a whole new schedule and process and…it’s just all so much. We haven’t had an official meeting yet, and it just feels like everything is closing in. For some of us workers, it’s the first time adjusting to a new resident. I don’t know…It’s just…a lot of stress. And I’m not entirely sure I’m over losing my first one. We weren’t close, but she was still a human that I took care of.”

You didn’t dare look him in the eye. You were lying through your teeth, and it was eating at you.  I am the worst person ever.

Spencer tucked some of your hair behind your ear, and he studied you. When you eventually looked up, you could see it in his eyes. He accepted your words, but he didn’t believe them. Not for a second.

I’m so sorry, Spencer. “Things just feel like they’re getting out of hand.

He looked away and lightly nodded. He licked his lips, and you felt nausea again. You never hid anything from him and now he knew you were holding something big. Things were going to change, and you didn’t think it was going to be for the better.

But I can’t tell him yet.

Do you want to stay and order some Thai?” Please. Please don’t leave yet.

“I should head back to the office and let them know I’m in one piece. Plus the doctor said to take it easy while I can.” This time it was Spencer that wouldn’t look at you while he spoke.

“Right.” You unhooked your seat belt and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll talk to you later, then?”

A nod.

Noticing the dismissal for what it was, you eased yourself out of the car and walked up to your apartment and unlocked the door. You kept an eye out of your peripheral and watched as he drove away after making sure you got in OK. You tossed your keys into the jar on the side table and leaned against the door. Tears followed the deep breath you released and you tried to keep the sobs inside.

What have I done?

A Purrfect Evening

I’m partaking in Marichat May again! Hurrah!! I have some kind of commitment to my work <33

The prompt was Sin II, except I haven’t done a Sin I… like, ever… so uMM

This was inspired a bit by my own comic if you want to see my bad doodles


A Purrfect Evening - a Marichat sin fic feat. puns (1748 words)

Warnings: descriptive kissing scene and implicit sexual content


Since he’d started dating Marinette, Chat Noir had developed many new talents.

One: fabricating the truth. This one had been necessary ever since he had received his miraculous, and needed to come up with all varieties of reasons why he was late to classes, disappeared in the evenings, sported a new injury. But romance was a new strain on the truth. Sometimes, he forgot where the lines between Adrien and Chat blurred, and had to stumble out with reasons why he knew certain things that one identity shouldn’t. And when Adrien sported hickies on his neck… make up was one of the ultimate truth concealers. Not that he minded - he wanted to show off what his princess did for him - but he was sure that Marinette, intelligent as she was, would realise his identity as soon as she seized on some sort of clue. Certain rules had to be followed, after all, no exceptions.

Two: parkour. Again, this one came with being Chat Noir, who had found much use in scaling the heights of Paris, clambering over chimney tops and scattering roosting doves with his step. But there was no greater use of this agility than in finding new ways to climb into his lover’s bedroom. Swooping in from across the street, dropping in from above, climbing up the railings like a self-styled Romeo… he tried to keep it spicy.

Three: kissing. This was the newest, and without a doubt the best, of his new pursuits. He could spend hours just kissing Marinette. In fact, he did. And, further to the fact, that was exactly how he intended to spend the next few.

Gliding in from the rooftops above, Chat Noir landed on the sill of one of Marinette’s windows and knocked gently. She was at her desk, head bowed over some homework, but when she saw him, her face lit up and she darted over to open the hatch for him. Feeling all soft and fizzy at her eagerness to see him - he still wasn’t over it, that she liked him - he jumped up onto her balcony and prepared some dazzling opening line for her, but hers was quicker, more dazzling in its very simplicity, “You’ve made my evening purrfect. I’m so glad you’re here.”

That pun? Swoon.

“You too,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

“I’m always here. This is where I live,” she grinned, ringing his bell and pulling him down into her bedroom. Her excitement was such that he lost his balance, clattering into her as he reached the floor. Already, so soon, he was pressed up against his princess, and her smell and her touch and her warmth ignited his longing for her.

Pretending those soft feelings weren’t urging him to catch her in a long embrace, he quirked an eyebrow at her, “Woah there, easy tiger.”

“Easy, chaton,” she purred, twining her hands at the base of his neck and drawing him in for a kiss. His want for her had been obvious despite his attempts to disguise it - she had caught the flicker of his eyes, noted the imperceptible way his body leaned into hers, perceived the slight twitch of his claws - but this definitely wasn’t a bad thing. It made him less cool, sure, but her kissing also, inevitably, made him hot.

She kissed him slowly, he kissed her deeply. He pulled her towards him by the waist, pressing their bodies closer so that he could absorb more of her warmth on his. Her fingers were knotted gently into the locks at the base of his neck, keeping his mouth on hers. Hesitant, he noted, to let him part for breath. There was insistence in that kiss, yet also some sort of restraint.

It was clear that each of them had been dealing with their own longings today, and Chat was torn between prolonging this tender, sweet, aching kiss - that mouth so soft on his, the faint swell of her breath between her indulgent lips - and delving deeper into it. So he compromised, and, maintaining that gentle rhythm, he let his hands wander. His fingers inched down the small of her back, cool claws curving around the edge of her shirt and onto the flesh beneath.

Marinette shivered. It wasn’t just the suddeness of air on her back, but those claws too. She had learnt - and so had Chat, and he loved to use this knowledge to their mutual advantage - that the coolness of metal, tracing its lines and curves across her own, delivered a sensation subtle yet acute. Though she still longed to feel his gentle fingertips, none of that coarse leather, the claws he wore provided their own pleasure in skin’s absence. And when Chat played rough…

Just the thought of it made Marinette shiver again, and Chat smirked against her lips - not knowing why she did so, but knowing it was good. Encouraged, his hand made its way up her shirt, flicking against the clasps of her bra. The other, down slightly, pressing into her ass.

As his hands cupped the swell of ass into thigh, Marinette tightened her grip on Chat’s hair, her breath a whisper in his ear, “Not so easy, chaton. Harder.”

Her request hot on her tongue, she bit into the sliver of neck above his collar. And as he obliged, hand squeezing down hard on her ass, she recaptured his lips, harder this time, faster. Her kisses were hot, unrefined, and delicious, faint of strawberry and pure of want. He tugged her closer - or maybe it was her, it was hard to tell in the sudden clash of their skin - and, with a deft flick of a finger, his claw unhooked her bra. Or, perhaps, tore. The details were unimportant, because what mattered was that he could feel that smooth back, curve his palms around to touch the small rounds of her breasts.

And she moaned, and the new cavern of her exultant mouth was inviting, and Chat was halfway trying to slide his tongue between her lips when Marinette pulled him back onto her bed. Another clatter, but this time it was somewhat more awkward. Someone’s teeth bit into Chat’s tongue, and his leg drove down a bit too hard between hers in the fall, and then they were both moaning in pain. Marinette squinted up at Chat, discomfort edged upon her face, and Chat frowned back, cradling his red-sore jaw in his hand.

Then, Marinette laughed, snaking her arm around Chat’s shoulder, “Boy, what a cat-astrophe.”

“You can say that again.”

She pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his jaw, “Paw-don me, but you obviously just want me to indulge your raging pun kink.”

“Mm, stop that, you’re turning me on,” he joked, tilting her mouth up to meet his once more.

Maybe she took this as a challenge, because their kiss soon resumed at the same intensity. Maybe it was because her shirt had rode up slightly and exposed the toned stomach beneath. Maybe it was because when they kissed, he could feel her chest against his and was reminded that she was no longer wearing a bra. Maybe he really did have a kink for a sly pun or two.

But regardless of the reason, Marinette’s hands were skirting across Chat’s abs, and her tongue was twisted tenderly into his, and she pressed her body into his, as close as it could go, pressed her breasts into the hands that cupped and teased them. Chat had a strange feline instinct in him, and, with happy hands, he near-kneaded her chest. But then he felt her smirk against him, remembered himself, and focused on her sensitive nipples as they hardened beneath his touch.

Chat knew his own body was responding in similar ways, and the suit both hid and accentuated her tactile tortures. Each of his most tender parts strained against the tight leather. Though the immoveable fabric must somewhat dulled her touch - god, how he wished that zipper was functional - it itensified its aftermath. He was hot, his arousal ached in its confines, and she had the gall to make it worse by stroking his cock through the suit.

Chat moaned. That was too much. He tugged Marinette’s shirt up over her head, and while she was still struggling with getting out the garment, he brought his mouth down onto the new skin, worshipping her breasts with his lips and tracing the ridges of her hips with his claws as he did. She wriggled beneath him - impatient? - and pulled gently at his hair, vying for a kiss. But his lips were busy elsewhere, and in fact making their way lower down. As he crossed by her navel, her hips bucked upwards, seeking more. He caught her hips by his fingers, pushed her back into the sheets, and held her there, inched slowly downwards with his lips, his tongue, his fingers. He traced the band of her jeans with a cold claw, and began to pull them down.

Marinette sighed. Ordinarily, Chat would have concentrated on her small sounds, maybe nipped her thighs to show his appreciation. But right now, he wanted to concentrate on what he was seeing.

His girlfriend. Flustered and shirtless. And wearing cat-print undies.

She opened her eyes, grinned down at him, cocky despite her smouldering blush, “I paw-t you might like that.”

He pressed a kiss to the fabric between her legs, then up to her chest, then her mouth, “You’ve been leading me on all night, haven’t you, princess?”

“I might have looked up a few cat puns to make sure I was totally purr-pared.”

He nuzzled her neck, unable to keep in his soft, indulgent moan, “You treat me so well.”

She hummed in contentment, bringing her arms up and around his neck, toying with the golden hairs at its nape. She fidgeted slightly beneath him, pent-up arousal keeping her from being still.

Chat noticed this, looked up at her, “Except, perhaps, not exactly 100% leading me on?”

“Well…” she pouted, propping herself up so that her breath tickled his face, “Not exactly 100%. Earlier this evening, I was thinking that my ideal way to spend the night was with a cat between my legs,” with a deft movement, she hooked her legs around his waist, “And I guess I got lucky.”

That was too much. Those pants were coming off. He was sure she wouldn’t mind.

(Not when his tongue always made her mewl for more.)