i'll simply... ask him to return it. in my own little way

qwertyuiop678  asked:

more obitine p l e a s e i want them to be happy (or at least not dead i'll take not dead)

Summary: This was supposed to be written a month ago, as a continuation of the Satine Lives AU that I wrote for a three-sentence fic prompt, but since I’ve been terribly busy, here we go. Set right after the end of ROTS (just corrected a typo there, I’d accidentally written ROTJ before), with everything the same except Satine’s continued existence.

(Also because, you know, anything in connection to Luke Kryze will always be awesome)

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Satine Kryze, Luke Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano (mentioned), Captain Rex (Mentioned)

Chapters: 1/1

I’ve cross posted this to ff.net!


The Question, Twenty Years Late

The war is over.

Satine stands alone on the palace balcony, and watches the afternoon sunlight glance off the glass towers of Sundari.

The people of Mandalore go about their ways in peace; Ahsoka, Rex, and their men have seen to that. Their last act as general and captain was to break the Siege of Mandalore, and return the system to Satine’s governance.

And then, in the midst of their post-battle laughter, came the order.

Satine remembers the minutes after the first declaration of order sixty-six with mind-numbing clarity.

There was confusion as the troopers not under Ahsoka’s direct command turned blasters towards her, and Ahsoka’s men reflexively raised theirs in return; there was blasterfire, and agonised screaming, one voice but from the mouths many men, brother, brother, why are you doing this-

Satine had wondered, later on, when Ahsoka and Rex and their surviving men have been rushed onto her fastest ship and sent blasting off into unknown space - whether her dream of two krayt dragons, brothers, tearing each other to pieces on black sand was truly simply a dream.

It had seemed too real.

Below Satine’s trembling feet, the palace walls are decorated with frescoes of dying Jedi, crushed under Mandalorian soldiers’ boots in millenia of war. And beyond this biodome, beyond Sundari, Mandalore is covered with dust ground from a billion soldiers’ bones.

The war is over, but at what cost?

Soon, Satine knows, the newly-self-declared emperor will send fresh troops to Mandalore, and ask for her sworn fealty.

It will fill her lips with gall to swear it; but she will have to. To do otherwise would be to condemn her people to extinction.

Her hands clench white and bloodless around the durasteel railing, and she fights the urge to lose her very insubstantial lunch over the balcony side.

Obi-Wan was on Utapau when it happened.

The holonet had been very vocal about his death.

She had not felt anything when she saw. She knew, in a way, that ten thousand Jedi had perished. That statistic, she could comprehend.

She could not, and cannot, comprehend Obi-Wan’s death.

The balcony doors slide open behind her, with hiss of compressed air. It sounds like the gasping breaths of a dying planet.

Satine closes her eyes against the afternoon sunlight, treacherous moisture prickling at her eyelashes, and waits for her attendant to announce the arrival of an Imperial Senate messenger, who will rip Mandalore from her like a child from her side.

But then, suddenly:

“Hello, there.”


Shock. Disbelief.

Satine turns in place.

Joy.

Utter, complete, rage-filled urge to slap the red-gold beard off that smirking face.

She stalks towards him, hands still clenched into fists, moisture that had welled in her eyes for another reason entirely suddenly breaking free into a torrent of furious tears. She might be snarling. She doesn’t care.

“Obi-Wan, you-”

He lifts calm, tired eyes to meet her tear-streaked gaze and says, with a little catch of humorous grief in his voice, “Shh, my dear, you’ll wake the baby.”

The-

Satine slides sharply to a stop, and stares at the little bundle in the crook of Obi-Wan’s arm.

“This is Luke,” Obi-Wan says, with that same strange lilt in his words. “My- my nephew.”

That raises many questions, but she does not voice them. Satine raises a finger, and brushes it along a pink cheek soft in slumber.

“Satine.” There is something new in Obi-Wan’s voice, now.

She looks at him, and reaches out gently to lower his hood. There is ash in his hair, and black sand speckled in his beard. His tunics, she notices for the first time, are scorched and worn. Her hands skitter over his cheekbones, his chin.

Obi-Wan smiles at her, a shadow of the cocksure grin that had stolen her heart across a campfire, almost two decades ago now, in the year of Mandalore’s civil war. “I’m not sure how to do this, and I’m probably doing it wrong,” he begins. “I know I’m supposed to have a ring, at least. I don’t. I’ve come to your doorstep with nothing but a scarred lightsaber and a baby.” His lips twitch, sardonically, as if realising the ridiculousness of that statement. “But if you’ll have me?”

That last sentence washes over Satine’s ears without entering them for a moment.

“You’re asking,” she says. It isn’t really a question.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replies, gaze steady. “I’d kneel, but I’m holding Luke, so it would be somewhat awkward.”

“I…” Satine’s hands are frozen on Obi-Wan’s face.

“I once said I would have left the Order, had you said the word,” Obi-Wan murmurs, slipping a hand out from under Luke’s weight to clasp her hand where it rests on his cheekbone. “I know now why you did not - and I am asking a burden of you, to do this. I am asking you to raise a child not your own, and to marry a man who is a death sentence walking, for all the Empire’s intent. Forgive me for asking, but I think I have to.”

He falls silent with the air of a man awaiting either his pardon or his exile.

“What of attachment?” Satine says, softly.

“We were fools. Attachment, in the end, is simply valuing something above our service to the Force; it was something I did not teach, nor understood well enough, until now. And in the end, it brought about this horror.” There is shame there, in those whispered words; sorrow, and grief.

Satine traces Obi-Wan’s face with a perceptive gaze; there are lines there she had not noticed before, like the faint lines that edge her face in the mirror each morning, now.

But there is also a smooth, unmarked face, sleeping quietly between them.

Satine leans forward, and presses her lips to his cheek.

“Yes,” she says.

He makes a sound, something between a hiccup and a sob. Joy, and grief. The next moment, he has pulled her into an awkward embrace, one arm around her and the other holding the child, their child now, between them. She reaches out instinctively to support Luke’s head.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan says. It is all he needs to say.

The Empire will be sending visitors, Satine knows; today, tomorrow, in a week, in years and decades to come - but for the present moment, this is their joy, and it is complete.

END


@qwertyuiop678 here you are. <3 Reblog as you like, everyone!

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Papers of Homelessness - Chapter 29

(This banner had been made by the awesome and amazing artist @benteja​. i am so honored that she had drawn this banner for this story. please go and show her all the love in the world that she deserves!!! \[^o^]/)

BEFORE | NEXT

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anonymous asked:

Why do you think JK never made Snape care about Harry? I always expected thats where the story would go at one point but then it didnt at all... like at least a moment of effection or something

Several reasons, I think.

First, as I said in the other post, it was too late for Snape. He is the antihero, much more than Voldemort ever was, and he was set up to fail from the start. He would die with his unresolved issues deep in his soul - the guilt, the rage, the inability to trust and love another person (perhaps for fear of what that love would do to them, because look at what it had done to Lily). By the time Harry crashes into his life, Snape has find a modus vivendi - it’s dark and unpleasant and it keeps him in a lot of pain, but it’s all he knows, and we’re all afraid to let go of things that have kept us safe for years - even if those things are chains and cages. So, even at this moment when Snape would have the chance to start over and teach Lily’s child in the way he wishes he himself had been taught (the fact he was disagreeing with old textbooks at the age of sixteen shows quite clearly what he thought of the whole system) - well, that’s not something he considers. Consciously or subconsciously, he must have worried about what would happen if Harry refused him and mocked him, like James had done. What is colleagues would say if he suddenly changed his demeanour. What Harry himself would know about him - Snape doesn’t know how Harry grew up - what if Petunia had told him everything about ‘the Snape boy’, the weirdo who stalked her younger sister, the kid with the drunk father who was never quite clean and never quite tidy? I sort of believe that’s why Snape was so harsh on Harry during that first lesson - not only he saw James on his face and that hurt him deeply, but he was probably terrified Harry would know things about him - things only Lily could know, and what if she’d told Petunia, or if Harry had found her letters? So no, Snape never tried a different way, because the one he was walking - that was painful, but he already knew that pain he could bear. What if a new path brought him a pain he couldn’t bear?

(Which would have been the case, because if Snape had allowed himself to care about Harry, to love Harry, even, in this clumsy, childish, unfinished way that seems the only way he knows how to love people, how could he have let Harry die? He would have turned against Dumbledore, would have done anything to keep Harry safe like he’d done for Lily, and Dumbledore’s plans would have failed, and Voldemort would have won.)

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anonymous asked:

Uh… not sure how to put this, so I guess I'll just say it: Why is sokkla almost always implied to be hot and passionate in regards to love making?

Uh… .____. I’m a bit puzzled by this question. I thought just by looking at them anyone would figure why that is… I mean, there were only two screen moments of the two of them together in the show, and they just happened to go like this:

Did we ever see anyone else face to face with Azula during the show like this…? Aside from Chan, which ended quite badly, I think not…

And dang, the way they’re looking at each other here. She’s POWERLESS here, completely in his mercy and that’s not something that has happened between Azula and anyone else. Yet she’s powerless… and she glares back at him defiantly. He’s raging mad, and she just smirks. He’s playing into her hand and she can’t defend herself from him, but she’s EXACTLY where she wants to be…

Again, their faces are only inches away from each other. Did anyone else stand up to Azula in the show like this? Sure it wasn’t Sokka who got her hand stuck to the wall, but it’s him who pinned her too it by pushing her shoulder, and he’s the one glaring at her and keeping her in place. It’s none other than the Water Tribe peasant who’s got Azula in a situation she seems to enjoy so thoroughly…

You see, there are heaps of possiibilities with Sokka and Azula, you can have them being mortal enemies or you can have them being the very best of friends. The possibilities are virtually endless, depending on how you decide to develop their relationship… yet there’s something that won’t ever change no matter what angle you decide to explore their relationship with, and it’s a quality that they both share without knowing it: that balance between fire and ice. Sokka is quite a passionate guy when he gets really involved with something, and Azula herself has proven to feel things really strongly in the show. Yet they’re both calculating as well, they think things through, they can be cold-blooded if need be.

Sokka and Azula are opposites, yet similar in many ways. That brings about a form of competitiveness between them that I don’t know if could be possible by pairing either of them with someone else. They’re constantly trying to overpower the other, to prove they won’t stand idly by while the other has his way. Nuh-uh.

And yes, maybe Sokka is bound to get the losing end on most situations, BUT in that which concerns socialization and physical touch and the sort, Azula is practically clueless. Whereas Sokka isn’t. So, now moving towards what you’ve just asked, the dynamics of their relationship which I explained above are brought all the way to the bedroom. Competitiveness, passion, intelligence… all of it is put into the test again when they’re having sex. If they’re a happy couple, Sokka would want to please Azula to no end and thus he’d put everything he’s got when they’re doing it.

But if they’re on the other end of the spectrum, and their relationship is mostly an enmity, a rivalry where Azula keeps making a fool out of Sokka and he can’t take it anymore… well, in that sort of scenario we would have more of what we got in picture #2 up there. It’s time for Sokka to get back at her for everything, by making her come off as the fool… so he’ll do everything he can to have her screaming his name in pleasure and begging him for more. Of course, Azula would do anything not to beg. And she would try to turn things around, which wouldn’t be too easy if she’s still clueless, but as she learns more about how to do this, she’d become more capable of making him scream her name instead and making his revenge-ish plan backfire on him. So in this case, it’s a crazy competition, a wild tryst where they’re driven both by lust and that very competitiveness I explained before, and that, my friend, makes for seriously passionate sex.

And as I said, in a loving scenario, they remain passionate precisely because they’re in love. Sokka wants to make her happy, and apparently orgasms can help him accomplish that xD also because he’d want to love every little bit of her body, much as he has come to love everything else about her. And Azula is fire, blood of the dragon xD with a man she loves as strongly as she loves Sokka, she would want to show him through gestures rather than words the depth of her feelings towards him. She wants to return all the favors he’s giving her, and thus, the love-making is passionate here as well.

I pretty much went to either extreme of their relationship with that explanation, but no matter if they’re just lovey-dovey, or if they’re just downright lusty and competitive, I think the passion remains. And well, if you ask me, it’s better to stand in the middle ground between those two extremes, not simply lovey-doveyness but not just crazy sex… the middle ground, where you can combine both things, is definitely my favorite xD

And well… with all the potential sexual tension between these two, I think the hotness is simply going to be there xD I mean, really, just look at all the almost-kisses fanarts out there that depict that sexual tension perfectly:

Aaaaah, you just wanna push them together and get them to make out already!!!

You see, they’re both hot on their own, so if you put them together they’ll be scorching hot xDDDD simple as that!

Oh, that was  too much teasing with the almost kisses, I desperately needed an actual kiss in this post…:

So I hope you understand a little better now. The qualities of the characters, and the quality of their relationship, are what explain why nearly any Sokkla fan you ask will tell you these two burn the sheets when they’re banging. Thank you very much for giving me an excuse to make a new fangirly post over these two, anon, you’re very kind.

Credit for the fanarts:

  1. Matsuri - Sokkla by Mandy-mo
  2. Sokka and Azula by Drakyx
  3. I’ll DROP you by saniika
  4. Danger by saniika
  5. Sokkla comission Nayara malfoy by 0kiwi0

missdictatorme  asked:

Hi! Please write 43. with Sam and Reader! <3

A Thief’s Overture (Young¡Sam Drake/Reader)
Chapter 1: At a Loss for Words.

Promt: 43. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me”

Okay this is Young!Sam Drake x Reader. I know it’s written from Sam’s perspective and not the reader’s, but I found this story works much better that way and I really wanted to write this.

I’ve decided this is actually going to be a full fanfic, an ongoing series of chapters that I’ll be uploading from now on. So I’ll make sure to link them here too eventually if you guys wanna find out how the full story unfolds. This is obviously going to be the first chapter.

No warnings here for now.

Enjoy and thanks for the request! This became so much more than a drabble. *muah*

xoxo- Red


Word count: 6,144 

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Update: You can also read this fic on AO3 now!




It was a cold autumn night in Boston. The fallen leaves, softened by the wet pavement, never produced a crunch under Sam’s feet. It had been raining up until he’d reached the orphanage, and luckily now the clouds were retreating in the sky.

He ruffled his hair, making some of the raindrops tangled in it splash into the cold air, and he gripped tight at the iron gate that was the entrance to the place. He climbed and jumped over it with ease, his eyes finding the window that he knew belonged to Nathan’s room.

Making his way there proved effortless enough. Running on rooftops was slowly becoming second nature to him. When he finally reached the window, which was open as per usual, he took a cautious peek into the room before deciding to jump inside to make sure that none off the kids that shared the bedroom with his brother were awake.

He was surprised to find the beds completely empty as he paced through the place, a frown slowly appearing on his face when he noticed Nathan was also absent. That was unusual.

A sudden sound made him jolt and take a step back for a second, his eyes scanning the dark room and finally finding a figure in front of him. The bedroom was lacking any source of light except for the moonlight coming from the open window, but even if this was the case, he was surprised he hadn’t spotted her earlier.

It was a girl. She appeared to be around his age, definitely older than his brother. She was crouching in front of an open suitcase and seemed to have just noticed him as well, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Hi.” Sam greeted, keeping his voice down. He raised both hands slowly at waist height in an appeasing yet awkward gesture. “Please don’t scream.”

But the girl wasn’t making a sound, apparently opting for standing there staring at him with unease. Sam’s lips turned into a thin line as he kept his distance in tension, lest he startles the girl even more. They stayed like this for a quiet moment, until he decided he probably needed to explain himself. Fast.

“Listen, I’m not a burglar or anything.” He blurted out, the words coming out as a faint laugh as he pointed at his own chest. “I’m just looking for my brother, I only came to see him… Where’s everyone?” The young man’s eyes gazed at the empty beds once more before locking back on the girl’s silhouette.

But once again, his words were met by silence, with her not making any signs of acknowledging the sounds coming out from his mouth. Sam noticed the girl didn’t look scared, nor did she look surprised anymore, she was simply staring at him with some form of curiosity. And suddenly it occurred to him that perhaps she wasn’t answering because she could not hear him in the first place. What if she was deaf?

“Okay.” He muttered to himself, approaching her very slowly in the gloom of the room. As soon as he reached her position, standing right in front of the girl, he made sure to draw a friendly and genuine smile to let her know he truly meant no harm. And somehow her expression seemed to soften a little. “Let’s try this…”  With these words, Sam gently picked up her hand, his eyebrows raising with the motion as if asking for permission. She didn’t complain. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

And it was only then that he got a response, the girl’s fingers now curling around his hand and squeezing as he’d requested. He drew a half smile and nodded proudly.

“Yeah, good! Now we’re getting somewhere.” So she wasn’t deaf. Perhaps she was mute? No matter. He’d find his way around it. But he didn’t enjoy the idea of questioning her out of the blue. Considering he was a stranger that had just crawled through the window, it all seemed a bit too upfront. So he’d make sure she was comfortable with ‘talking’ to him first.

“Sorry if I scared you, I didn’t notice the room wasn’t empty.” Apologizing seemed fair in this case, since he was the one who was not meant to be there. The girl returned his smile now with a soft one of her own, and he noticed the dimples that formed on her cheeks when she did so. Now that he’d managed to catch a better glimpse of her, he had to admit she was a pretty little thing, albeit quite shorter than him.

He then squinted slightly, as if measuring her with a look. “Are you my age? Eighteen.” She shook her head at his question and he nodded. “Alright, squeeze for yes, head shake for no. I can work with this.” He cleared his throat and switched his body weight from one foot to another, ready to try again. “Seventeen?” And this time he felt the grip on his hand tightening.

“Oh so just a year difference. You must be new here right? I don’t remember you from my time in this place.” Before she could answer, he let out an apologetic laugh. “I haven’t even told you my name yet have I? And yet here I am holding your hand.” Sam joked, earning himself a wider smile. And he was pleased to find she had not tried to retrieve her hand just yet.

“Sam Morgan.” He finally introduced himself, placing his free hand flat on his chest. Since he knew he wouldn’t get a name from her, he carried on. “Like I said I was actually looking for my little brother, Nathan. Do you know him?”

Then, a squeeze.

“Great, that’s amazing. Listen…” He now leaned a bit closer, his green eyes plunging deep into the girl’s. If she couldn’t talk, he had to make every effort to read her expressions. “I’d really like to talk to him but I’m not really allowed in here…” Making another pause, Sam gnawed on his lower lip with a slightly guilty look on his face. “Could you do me a favor? Could you go look for him and, if you find him, just bring him here?”

The girl didn’t answer, but her lips were still curled up on the faintest of smiles. She slowly let go of Sam’s hand as she backed away from him to walk towards the bedroom door, turning the handle to open it and disappear behind it.

He fumbled with his own hands for a second, doubtful. Hopefully that meant she would bring Nathan back. Or perhaps she simply wasn’t interested in helping him. In any case, he figured he could just wait by the window for a while and find out. That way if any of the nuns happened to come snooping around, he could just quickly jump out and make his escape.

So he backtracked on his own steps to sit on the ledge of the window, which was still slightly wet from the previous rain, and waited patiently.

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The Personal Blog of Molly Hooper

“I want to ask you something…on your blog, you mentioned- last night, and I…well, you said it was…boring. Molly, if I’m failing to please-”

“Sherlock, I was joking…come on, I know you read it. I’m hardly going to say my new secret lover rocks my world and makes me forget my own name when we’re together. You…are the best…I’ve ever, and will ever, have.”

9:13pm January 12th 2014

I cannot believe the evening I’ve had! Firstly, Mr. Sexy Self-Proclaimed Sociopath demanded my full attention yet again (honestly, it’s like he doesn’t want me to meet anyone.) Anyway, on my way home, I went to my local chippie…bloody drunk started grabbing at me and pulled me into an alleyway. Luckily, Allan saw and shooed him off – it’s times like this I wish I knew self-defence! Can you imagine that? Molly Hooper, shy little morgue mouse, fighting her own battles? It’s a thought…

“SHERLOCK HOLMES!” The consulting detective groaned loudly when he heard the small and angry steps on the stairs leading to flat B; Molly was terrifying when she was angry – he desperately glanced around the flat, searching for something to make him look busy. Giving up, he threw himself on the sofa as the door flew open, “what the hell is this?”

Molly threw the newspaper across his sprawled body, effectively bringing his attention to the headline: MAN FOUND BADLY BEATEN IN ALLEY OUTSIDE CHIP SHOP.

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1.) because you’re here, right now. alive, breathing and you’re not smiling, i know that, but you still exist.

2.) if every lover was ‘the one’ and they all fucking stayed, we’d never grow up to be parents who showed our kids how to love someone right, even if it feels wrong. if everybody was perfect, we wouldn’t be human. remember that.

3.) just because he left you for someone else, does that mean he still holds your heart? yes, of course he does. you gave him that power, now give yourself the ability to smell smoke, fire and tragedy. everything hurts worse at 3 a.m. get some sleep, drink some water and love yourself. sweety, i know it hurts, but sometimes you just have to say fuck it.

4.) it doesn’t matter if you were in the wrong or if he was, if he moved on… then you should too. you have what he doesn’t have, you. you are strong, even if you have a couple cracks inside. even if you’re a shattered teacup trying to refill itself. you may be empty, but you must keep telling yourself that you are lovely. if not, i will. you are lovely.

5.) some people stay forever and i don’t mean physically. i mean mentally, emotionally and spiritually inside of your fucking soul. you can’t erase them. you can’t delete them. you can’t forget them. you can’t sleep. the least you can do is embrace the best parts of their undying memories. smile because you guys happened and move on. i believe in you. i do, i do. stranger of mine. because some love never leaves.

6.) i’m almost certain that you’re crying. can you feel it? you smell like rain. want to know why i love the rain? because it’s natural. baby girl, it’s natural to be a part of the earth. to love yourself enough to be emotional. you are loved and it doesn’t have to be romantic to be loved. i love you, dear human of mine. you are nature. remember that. we came from the earth before we came from our parents, you are natural. it is a natural response to cry.

7. it is a part of the soul. what is? the need to understand. to know why. to know how. to know when. to know what. i’m here to tell you that it’s okay to be confused. to be damaged. to be a bird that fell from the nest, you did not die. you’re simply injured. you will fix your own wings and you’ll make it. that’s called hope. have you hoped for anything lately? if you haven’t, here’s to hoping that you’ll smile today.

8.) i’m probably the worst person on tumblr to ask what to do and how to do it. i am, i fucked up my last relationship pretty bad, but you still mustered up the courage to message me. that makes you brave to me. you are strong. solid. as unmoving as the mountains. as unwavering as the ocean. as life-giving as the sun. you are sturdy, supportive and warm. remember that. now give it back to yourself, okay? you’re special too.

9.) has anyone called you pretty lately? yes? no? it doesn’t matter. idk what you look like or how you are, but it doesn’t matter. we need to be open. change happens everyday. i think you’re pretty even without your face. it’s a reminder to be proud of who you are for how you are. don’t let a guy decide your worth, you’re better than that. if all 8 reasons failed you so far, let this be the one to pull you back. you’re gorgeous. you’re beautiful. you’re amazing. now tell yourself those things. we all need a boost. insecurities hurt worse than heartbreak. that, i know.

10.) i know it feels like you can die at any moment because he was your arms, legs, fingers, hands, wrists, shoulders, tongue, lips, eyes, thighs, waist, bed, blanket, sun, star, moon, pen, paper, favorite color, favorite smile, and he gave the best hugs too probably. i know it hurts, i know darling, but i love you because we’re all human and we need affection. i know it isn’t quite like his, but stranger of mine. you can have my arms. you will survive this. some smoke needs to escape. some fires die out. some oceans dry out. some universes doesn’t hold much life. some hearts don’t beat as quick as ours. some lovers disappear quicker than when they appeared as true love, soul mate, or the one. i’m here to say you are the one. the one to keep yourself sane. to love yourself. to improve. to forget him. to be you. you are you and that’s all you’ll ever need to be. i promise.

11.) you are pure. simple as that. even if you lose your purity. virginity. mind. body. heart. soul. if we lose that light inside, we’ll all surely burn sweety. keep yourself going. sometimes we get dirt in our eyes, but you need to wash that part away. move past it. you need to feel your want to be better. you need to believe in yourself.

12.) the best things in life hurts us in the worst ways when they are no longer around. that’s why it’s called memories. you remember the stories. the light moments. the way you cried alone. how he was there in her arms and not yours. what’s this called again? oh yeah. maturity. you will grow from this. again… i promise. i promise. you will be amazing with this growth thing.

13.) if you made it this far and still crying, hey. you’re still cute and wanted. you just need to find yourself among the pile of tears. it stings to be unloved, trust me, i know. the image of him kissing someone else probably runs through your mind every night, but you know what? you aren’t running across his. remember that. you are not. you are not. you are not. but you know what? you’re all over these reasons. a stranger cares for you and you need not return anything but a smile and have some faith in your ability to thrive within this depression. some people die before they live, does that make sense? i still believe in you. little stranger of mine.

14.) it’ll take days to stop the texting. it’ll take weeks to stop calling. it’ll take months to stop answering. it’ll take years to not need them and even then? you’ll still be spitting out his poison, but remember he also holds the cure. who he was when he held your hands and never let go. who he was when he kissed your lips and only wanted you. that is the one you keep forever. not the one that let go, that isn’t him. what do they call this again? oh yeah. change. sweety… he changed. you should too. because loving him is swallowing you into the abyss and i heard demons don’t drown well in the dark. try one of my poems, i drown those fuckers every day. every day. i believe in you. even if you have doubt. hate yourself. want to die. swear you won’t make it to tomorrow. can’t get out of bed. crying on that cold restroom floor. thinking too much. eyes swollen from tears. upset and kicking. eyes blurry from sleepless nights and restless a.m. crusades to find his fingers. i know it hurts, but he let go and so should you… my brutal truth to you. but you already knew that.

15.) you are more than how a man sees you. more than how i see you. you are more than how they see you. you are a star. a galaxy. a universe. a bleeding heart. a kindred soul. a lover who is learning to let go. you are passion. you are human and my god, you’re beautiful. okay? i love you if nobody told you today. sleep tight sweety.

—  15 reasons as to why you are good enough
Kitty Quintuplets

Read on AO3 at: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4287423

For Steter Week day 7, Fluff/shmoop

It’s Stiles who comes back to their apartment one night stinking of alcohol and grinning hugely declaring: “Peter, werewolf boyfriend of mine. I am pregnant.”

Peter honestly pauses. Weird stuff happens in Beacon Hills, and what is he going to do if Stiles is actually pregnant? Never mind completely smashed.

“With kittens!” 

Oh, never mind. 

Except Stiles then carefully releases five kittens from under his jacket onto the floor. Tabby kittens. All different colours and Peter isn’t even sure how he managed that. Stripes mostly; orange, light grey, dark brown, charcoal, and one light brown marbled tabby. 

“Stiles, no.” Peter says in a firm voice. 

“Stiles, yes!” Stiles all but shouts, before collapsing onto the couch in giggles. Peter watches the kittens with narrowed eyes, but they don’t seem upset about Stiles abandoning them on the floor and simply claw their way up the couch to curl up with the human. 

Peter only winces a little as he watched them. 

Peter listens to all six heartbeats slow and breathing even out in sleep. He stands and snaps a picture, because Stiles with five kittens laying on him is too good to pass up. He leaves a glass of water and some Tylenol on the coffee table with a note for Stiles. 

We are not keeping the kittens. 

*

Peter wakes to the smell of coffee, eggs and bacon. It’s only when he walks into the kitchen that he realises those smells have been covering the smell of cat. 

“Stiles,” he says in a warning tone. 

Stiles just grins hugely at him, giving him a kiss on the check, handing him a mug of coffee, and a plate of bacon and eggs just the way he likes them. 

“No.” Peter says firmly. 

“Yes,” Stiles counters easily, leaning down to scratch one of the kittens (grey), and give each of them a bit of bacon. The kittens purr happily. 

Peter flashes his eyes when they look at him. He turns to go sit down. He’ll deal with it after he eats. 

*

“So, this is Stacy” pointing at the dark brown kitten, “Narnia” the marbled kitten, “Sparta” the charcoal kitten, “Winter” the grey kitten and “Oliver” the orange kitten Stiles declares proudly. 

“Why did you name them?” Peter groans. 

“Because they are our children Peter, love them,” Stiles scolds, happily petting Narnia. 

“What kinds of names are they anyway?” Peter sighs, flashing eyes and fangs at Sparta, who simply narrowed his eyes. 

“Brilliant ones,” Stiles grins, pointing at the kitten that’s padding over to him, “Look, Winter is coming.” 

“Oh dear lord,” Peter sighs. 

*

Peter stares at his new photo file. Surely he hadn’t taken that many. He glances over at Stiles, happily playing with the new laser pointer he’d bought right after exclaiming; “For Narnia!” 

The five kittens chase the spot eagerly, making Stiles giggle. 

Peter snaps a picture before he can talk himself out of it.

*

“I’m going out,” Stiles calls from the doorway, “Look after the children.” 

“They are not our children.” Peter sighs, keeping his eyes on his book. A few moments later Peter hears the first little mew. Oliver looks up at him with large eyes, Peter frowns. 

“Go away I’m reading.” he commands. Oliver blinks up as him before jumping up into his lap. “I’m not petting you.” 

Stiles comes home to Peter playing with the laser pointer, all five kittens tumbling over each other to chase the little spot of light. He snaps a picture before the werewolf can stop him. 

*

Stiles comes home with catnip one day. He gives each kitten a little bit before offering a sprig of something to Peter. It looks and smells enough like wolfs bane that, if it were anyone but Stiles offering it, Peter would have ripped their throat out. As it is he just stares at it suspiciously. 

“It’ll help you relax,” Stiles informs him with a fond smile. 

“That’s not really comforting,” Peter murmurs, but he accepts the sprig. He knows Stiles would never actually hurt him. 

Next thing he knows his laying on the floor with five stoned kitten. He’s staring into Stacy’s eyes, and Oliver is sitting on his chest like he owns it. 

“Your mom does have it going on,” he informs Stacy seriously, “It’s a dumb song, but he really does.” 

“Yes,” Stacy agrees. Peter narrows his eyes. 

“You’re not supposed to talk,” he accuses. 

“Yes.” Stacy says again. 

“Is that all you can say?” 

“Would you rather we discuss quantum physics?” Narnia asks as she attempts to walk over to him. She ends up laying on her side halfway. 

“You’ve been spending too much time with Lydia,” Peter mumbles, “I forbid you to see her anymore.” 

“You’re not our mom,” Winter informs him with a hiss. 

“I am the alpha,” Peter hisses back. 

“Not our alpha.” Sparta replies, despite wrapping himself about Peter’s foot. 

“I am your new God,” Oliver whispers. 

“Yes.” Stacy agrees. 

Stiles comes back a little while later to find Peter and the kittens sleeping curled together on the floor. He snaps a picture and quickly makes several copies so Peter can’t delete it. 

*

“You drugged me.” Peter grumbles into his coffee. 

“Yes, and you finally bonded with the kittens,” Stiles smiles in reply, “It wasn’t too bad; I made sure none of the pack would come over, and that you wouldn’t leave the house.” 

“It was manipulative and insensitive.” Peter mumbled. Oliver jumps up onto his lap and Peter begins to pet him absently. Stiles’ smile widens. 

“But that’s why you love me,” he says, giving Peter a kiss on the cheek, “I promise to warn you next time I give you werewolf nip, ok?” 

“This doesn’t mean I like them.”

“You love them,” Stiles laughs, running his hand through Peter’s hair as he passes. 

“Sadly.” Peter sighs, looking down at the orange cat in his lap. Oliver looks up and meows at him. Peter rolls his eyes and returns to petting him. 

*

Peter later finds that Stiles had set up a video camera. He never manages to get rid of all the copies, but the pack never brings it up, so he assumes Stiles is keeping it to himself. He wants to argue about it, but honestly, they know each other too well for him to bother complaining. 

Besides, the kittens aren’t that bad.

Not Alone

In light of Robin Williams’ death, I was torn over what, if anything, I wanted to write tonight. Part of me wanted to write something funny, as laughter is so needed right now; part of me wanted to write something sad because it’s how I’m feeling. Part of me thought about not writing anything at all and just taking the night off.

Instead, I decided to write something that I think everyone needs to be reminded of, on this day, yes, but every day as well. Whether it’s friends or family or a significant other or whatever, you are not alone. You are never alone.

So have some fluff and some little reminders of the many ways in which we’re not alone.

Bossuet was awoken by something cold and wet pressing against his bare foot, and it took all of his self-control to not kick out instinctively, especially when the sensation was followed by a wet warmth. He sat slowly to find that his foot was currently being licked by a rather happy looking dog, who stared at Bossuet like he was the greatest thing the dog had ever seen. “Hello there,” Bossuet said cautiously, reaching down to pet the dog between its silky ears. “Where’d you come from?”

The dog, of course, didn’t answer, though it scooted closer so that Bossuet could pet its back as well, panting happily as Bossuet complied. “You really can’t be here,” Bossuet told the dog, though any willpower he might’ve had was quickly melting away. “Joly’s allergic to dogs, not to mention, of course, the diseases…”

As if on cue, Joly poked his head into the room. “Oh, good. Glad you’ve found each other.”

Keep reading

I'll be the one, if you want me to

CS+ “Why can’t you see that I love you?!” – swanshero

AN: Just remember that you asked for this.

——

and I will stumble and fall
I’m still leaning to love
just starting to crawl

——

Emma’s heart is hammering, anger beating through her veins so quickly that it hurts. The pain in her chest is sharp, twisting, reminding her of all the times she’s fought this fight and lost. 

(Is it worth it this time?)

(It has to be.)

Keep reading

Preference 10: You turn him on in public
  • Ashton: It's nothing out of the ordinary for a few games to be involved in your sex life with Ashton. You guys were always were working on something new and exhilarating for the bedroom. You've come to learn that Ashton has a major jealousy kink, and you've played that in your favor several times. You'd be out shopping with him, walking around a crowded store in the mall. Each time a male associate would approach you, asking if you needed help, you would deliberately kick the flirtatiousness into high gear. It would be no time at all before the worker was eating out of the palm of your hand, willing to please you. You saw Ashton tense up, his hands fisting, and his nails digging into the flesh of his own palms. His jaw would be tight, and his teeth clenched. As soon as you were the only one in ear shot, he'd lean forward, and hiss into your ear, "You think you can have any guy you want? You're such a little whore, I'll show you I'm the only one you need; we're going home." You set the contents in your arms at the register, and Ash hands over his credit card, his hands shaking with anticipation. He drags you out of the mall, and you know you've lit his fuse.
  • Calum: "Calum, can you come here?" You call out into the otherwise empty dressing room. He'll huff and mumble something unintelligible, while he scuffs his feet against the floor. You slip the curtain open, and peek your head out, double checking that you're still alone. You open the barrier the remainder of the way, exposing yourself in a slinky black piece of lingerie. His eyes widen; his pupils shooting to the size of dimes. "What do you think, babe?" You do a quick turn, allowing him to admire all angles of your form. He just his hand out, grabbing your waist, and yanking you into his chest. His free hand slips around your back, and slides down, cupping your ass with a firm squeeze. His words are hot and needy when he speaks them into your ear, "I think you need to get back in that room. Change back into your clothes, and buy this slutty little outfit you have on before I fuck you right here, right now." Chills spread across your spine as the thought of the events to come spiraled through your head. You press your hands flat to his chest, and push him out of the room, "Guess those new handcuffs will be coming in handy tonight." Your right eye drops in a wink as you shut the drape in his face, and change into your clothes with haste.
  • Luke: He's very self-conscious while he's in public, and you find it to be extremely endearing. You also see his social timidness as a window of opportunity. There will be times you simply crave the flush of his cheeks, or the fidgeting in his seat across from you. You unlock your phone, and send him a quick slightly modest text message, your desires taking hold of you. 'God I want you so bad.' Your eyes are fixed on him the entire time he stares at the message. Your phone buzzes with his response, 'Babe, don't.' You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, 'But Lukey, don't you want me on my knees for you?' He squirms a bit when he reads the message. 'Come on, don't do this.' You see him looking around, hoping nobody notices his discomfort. 'But I thought you loved fucking my mouth? ;)' His hand lands on the table with a slight thud and his fingers wrap around the edges of it. His eye bore into yours, "I think we need to leave." he states firmly, his hands hiding in his lap. You nod your approval, "I think that's a lovely idea."
  • Michael: Michael was always for PDA, anytime, anywhere. Sometimes you took his enjoyment for it a bit too far, and used it to tease him. You could be sitting down for lunch in a small cafe, and he leans over to give you a quick kiss, meant to be chaste in nature. You catch a hint of his aftershave in his return back to his place at the table, and the scent fills your head. He sits back in his seat, his pigmented lips slightly pouted as he studies the menu, his arm draped around the back of your chair, and he's rubbing your arm ever so lightly with his fingertips. You're overcome with need for him, and your hand drops into his lap, resting on his thigh. Your fingertips start gripping into his muscle, massaging his leg. You drag your hand farther up, and apply pressure, rubbing his length through his jeans. "Baby, what're you doing?" He leans in and whispers, his voice breathy, and threatening to moan. You stare at him doe-eyed, and grab him through his pants, feeling his body stiffen as he hardens further. Your eyes bat, your lashes fluttering. He tries to remain unfaltering, and succeeds momentarily. You lean over and whisper in his ear, "You keep staring at that menu, but you and I both know what you want to be doing with your mouth, and quite frankly, I haven't seen my name on that menu." You tug on his earlobe with your teeth as you pull away, and his eyes darken. "So are you saying you want to skip out on lunch?" his voice is shaky, and he's beginning to crack. "If it means getting you between my thighs, then check please." At the finish of your statement, Michael is scrambling to his feet, tugging you with him, and you're rushing out of the restaurant towards the car.
#44 - You Walk In On Your Child Having An Intimate Moment
  • A/N: The names are taken from the Family Series that was previously written! All the children are 18 years old in this preference!
  • Louis: "Louis, I just have a feeling that we shouldn't have left Gray and Marci alone tonight..." You mumble to your husband as he sat next to you in the booth of the restaurant while he played a game with your youngest child, Hayes, who sat across the table with his older sister Quincy. "Oh, they're fine." He laughs and rolls his eyes as he quickly pays for the check. You sigh and gather your things and stayed quiet the rest of the way home. As you pulled into the garage you grabbed Louis' thigh, "Why don't you go in and check...just to make sure that the kids don't see anything." You mumble, just loud enough for him to hear. He nods and moves inside while you kept Hayes and Quincy occupied in the car. "Mum, I hate to break it to you, but they're probably doing what they're not supposed to be." Quincy, Grayson's twin sister, laughed. You sighed and nodded, "Oh I know." You mumble. Meanwhile, Louis walked upstairs quietly and moved towards Grayson's room, putting his ear up to the door, hearing small moans and hushed voices. He knocked on the door with a laugh, "Just thought I'd let you know that we're all home and your mother is pissed off! So, if I were you, I'd get dressed and get out here like nothing happened." He says before he walked away. Grayson groaned and looked at Marci, "Time to get even more embarrassed." He groans as he gets up and grabs his clothes.
  • Niall: You and Niall were driving home with your oldest daughter, Sophie, after you had picked her up from college for a quick weekend visit. You had left your youngest, Addie, at home with her boyfriend Max whom you and Niall loved dearly. "To be honest, dad, I'm really surprised that you let Addie stay home...along with Max." Sophie laughs from the backseat. "I mean, you guys never let me be alone with Daniel until I was in college on my own," She jokes. "Well, I'm still not too happy about that," Niall jokes as he pulls into the driveway. "I'm sure they're behaving. I can't imagine Addie doing anything like that this young...she's a good girl." You say, just to try to reassure yourself. You didn't want to think of your little girl doing anything along those lines. You helped Sophie carry her bags in and you stopped dead in your tracks as you walked into the kitchen, spying Addie sitting on the counter with her legs wrapped around Max's waist, making out. "Whoa, okay, nope. We're not doing that!" You say quickly, making them jump and pull away completely embarrassed. "Hey...um, welcome home sis." Addie said nervously trying to change the subject as Max fixed his shirt. "Oh, don't act all innocent." Sophie laughed as she hugged her baby sister.
  • Liam: "We're going upstairs," Your oldest son, Ben, shouted as he followed his girlfriend of two years, Eloise, up the steps quickly. You glance over at Liam who was sitting next to your youngest son, Luke, on the couch watching a football game. He glanced over at you with raised eyebrows, giving you the 'you're really letting them do that?' look. You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to your book, ignoring the sound of the TV that was filling the room. After a while, Liam excused himself and disappeared up the stairs. You sighed and followed him up quietly. You snuck around the corner of the hallway and froze when you heard Liam's voice, "What in God's name are you doing? Are you serious? Benjamin Joseph, Oh my God!" You heard him shout. You ran down the hall and grabbed his arm as you went into Ben's room, shocked to see him and Eloise barely covered by his sheets, completely naked. "Liam, get out. Come on." You say, yanking on his arm. "I can't believe this!" He shouted as he turned his back to them and rushed out the room. You sighed and shielded your eyes, "Get dressed you two...and get out here..." You say before shutting the door. "And you said we could trust them." Liam snapped as you looked at him. You rolled your eyes and waited for Ben and Eloise to emerge.
  • Zayn: "Zayn," You hiss, shaking your husband violently as you sat up in bed. "What?" He groaned after a few seconds, "(Y/N), it's three in the morning, what could you possibly want?" He groans loudly. "I heard the door open downstairs...I think someone is in the house." You whisper as you watched him rub his eyes. "Okay, fine, I'll go check." He mumbles as he pushes himself up out of bed and moves towards the door. "Stay here." He sighs as he leaves your room and moves downstairs. He flicked on the lights as he went, searching through the rooms one by one as he went down the hall. He made it to the stairs and heard soft voices coming from downstairs and slowly made his way down. He peeked around the corner into the living room and softly gasped at the sigh before him. His youngest son, Mason, was hovering above his girlfriend, Abbey, on the couch and both of them had their shirts off. Zayn cleared his throat and Mason pulled away quickly, looking back at him, "D-ad...Shit..." He mumbles. "I suggest that Abbey leave." He says simply before moving back upstairs. You looked up at him as he came in, "It was just Mason...and Abbey...and that's all I'm going to say." He says, crawling back into bed.
  • Harry: Your youngest child, Emmett, was spending the night at a friends house and your oldest, Olivia, had told you two to go out and enjoy a date night. So, you and Harry did just that. You two went to a fancy dinner and the movies for the first time in ages. You returned home late that night and as you pulled into the drive, you realized that Jason's car, Olivia's boyfriend, was parked there. You and Harry brushed it off because Jason was frequently at your house. They were inseparable. Harry followed you in, his hands on your hips giving you small kisses down your neck, making you giggle and feel like a teenager again. "Where's Livi?" You ask softly as you glance into the den where they usually hung out and watched movies. "I don't know...You don't think they...you don't they would be having...you don't think?" Harry stuttered, having a hard time imagining that his little girl would do such a thing. "I'll go check." You say gently and move quickly up the stairs, opening her door without warning. "Oh my god, Olivia!" You shout, closing the door as quickly as you had opening it. "Shit!" You heard Jason shout as they began to shuffle around the room to collect their clothes. "Harry, don't come up here!" You shout, not wanting Harry to get involved because you knew it would make the situation worse.