it's half four in the morning

About mutsuki’s gender: psychological analysis.

I’m reading a lot about this topic since a couple of mounths, so I want to try to explain my theory about it (even if english, is not my first language and this kind of things are really specific, so please forgive my mistakes).

First of all, I’m pretty sure that Tooru has a terrible mental illness call  Dissociative identity disorder or  multiple personality disorder (MPD). What is this? Long story short, there are at  least two distinct and relatively enduring identities or dissociated personality states, inside the same person. The number of identities varies widely, but in my opinion  inside Tooru we have only two different ones:  Female Tooru and Male Tooru, that alternate their existence inside him/her. We have a strong personality (Fem) and a submissive (Male) one.

A DID symptoms is, for example,  the presence of two or more distinct personality states match with  the inability to recall personal information (expecially by the submissive personality, who is totaly cut off his own mind), beyond what is expected through normal forgetfulness. This could explain why he doesnt remember when she killed his all family or when he killed all during the academy period. This  particular for of lack of memory is  call dissociative amnesia.

These states alternately show in a person’s behavior are  draw it VERY WELL by Ishida, in my opinion. Think when she approchs herself to Aura in order to obtain his help. Or when she approchs  Kaneki in chapter 122. Otherwise, in the firsts chapters, the way he walk and be in touch with the rest of the team. He was goffy, shy, more masculine than the lasts chapters where her moving changes. (In particular in THAT scene with fake Haise. That was a seductress woman)
(Damn it’s really hard to explain with all those he/she in contrast. Sorry.)

People diagnosed with DID often report that they have experienced severe physical and sexual abuse, especially during early to mid-childhood, and as we know, she/he was abuse and rape by his father till the day she ripped him in pieces. And then she forgot the fact. As well as she/he forgot about killing all those cats during the academy.
It’s really sad as a mental desorder, because starts as an escape from a cruel reality.
In this new arc, Female Tooru win over Male Tooru. The causes are many: she felt alone, adbandoned by the only one man that she ever love or at least that shows a gentle behavior. Haise’s really love him, in a familiar way maybe not  a romantic one (even if I’m pretty sure that this poor soul will never have a real romantic sentiment for noboby in the future).  She changes a lot of team after QS, so she has a lack of stabily, that in QS before the Rose Case was the first family he ever had. Torso probably has raped her again, throw this poor baby into the nightmare again.

And she just can’t stand on it anymore, even if she hate to be a woman. She hate to be weak again and she really want to be a man and have Haise’s love bacause she never fell this way with anyone before.

For what concerns Urie,  I think that he is an hetero guy who has a big crush on Mutsuki from the moment he realise that he is a woman. I can’t blame Kuki neither, is brain elaborate that information because of his infatuation. He always try to save Mutsuki, he his really  attached to this companion, no matter if is a she or a he. 
Whatever, that is really sad because Mutsuki will never be what he need..

In the end, the result for me is that if you call Tooru a girl is not a big deal. Because in this moment, she probably is back to that part of life, the darkest one, when she was a woman. A really lonely little girl who deserves better. I cant blame this child, who only need help.

My point is that she doesnt feel like a guy in her BODY, but is a MENTAL state. She want to change her past, not what she is. I refer to her more than a fluid than a trans. BUT OBVIOUSLY IT’S JUST MY OPINION! I dont want to change your mind or make you understand that this is how things really goes. It’s just an intuition.

I feel so bad for her. Or for him that maybe will be never come back, like the best part of Tooru, the one he built himself was too weak for this world.  

The only thing I hope is to see HIM happy again, as he was in the past.

So, this is my analysis. Feel free to tell me what do you think about!
And sorry for all the mistakes I probably made, its like four and half in the morning but I really want to give my contribution ti this discussion! So please be nice and I’ll responde to all your observations!

finding home

Ch. 1 of 7 | 2 3 4 5 6 7 | Read on AO3 | a collab with @superiortechnology

Tooru’s first day at Hogwarts was supposed to be the best day of his life.

He’s been dreaming of this day for as long as he can remember…

Yet here he is, crying his eyes out.

Today has been the worst day of his life.

It starts with the jerk on the boat making fun of him for his hair. It’s too pristine, the boy says. But this is the first day of his new life? Of course he wants to look his best! Then the jerk starts rocking the boat so of course he screams… which only leads to more jeers and laughter from the other boys on the boat.

That itself is bad enough, but then comes the worst part - he’s put in Slytherin.

The dark house.

The evil house.

The house that you-know-who came from.

His parents, his sister, his cousin, they’re all in Gryffindor. So why not him?

This is just his luck, really. He should have seen it coming, - would have seen it coming - had he been smart enough to really think about it. Nothing ever seems to work out as planned for him. It was the same back on his eleventh birthday, when his letter to Hogwarts was late and he was so sure that it wasn’t coming-

But no, he’s here. Just not… quite where he’d pictured himself being.

Families usually get sorted into the same house! is what she told him… And it’s her face his eyes land on as the hat’s decision tears itself from its brim. The look on her face isn’t half as pained as the feeling in his heart.

He moves to sit at the Slytherin table, seriously contemplating getting back on the train and going home the very next morning. There are four other first year boys at his table, though they were all been sorted there before him, so he hadn’t caught any names. Three of them appear to know each other already and the fourth is scraggly and shaggy looking, wearing robes that look too messy to be brand new… Probably second hand. To make things worse, the kid keeps staring around the room as if he’s never seen anything magical in his entire life, asking stupid questions to the prefect sitting next to him.

He already wants nothing to do with his dorm mates and he still hasn’t decided if he’s going to stay. Tooru sinks himself down into his seat, trying to drown out the talking and laughter around him, letting the rest of the ceremony pass by in a blur.

He’s been dreaming of the Gryffindor common room all his life. His older sister had drawn him a map and told him all about it, as though there hadn’t been a doubt in her mind that he’d be placed there.

Now here he is instead, sitting in the far corner of the Slytherin common room, keeping his distance from the other students.

Another tear leaks from his eye.

This sucks!

He leans heavily on the arm of the oversized chair he’s sitting in. The room is full of life, and no one around has even noticed him. From behind he probably looks like he’s just sleeping or staring out the window. He sighs to himself, sniffling as a shadow obstructs the light shining on the wall from behind him.

“Whatchya doin’?” A voice comes from behind him.

He nearly jumps, but manages to maintain his composure. It might just be the fact that he feels so exhausted. Can you scare the crap out of a sad person? If he were going to make an assumption based on this test, he’d have to say no.

He turns in the direction of the voice and finds the scrubby-looking first year from the table in the great hall. His face remains as awestruck as it was when they were eating, and he still has a stupid smudge of dirt on his cheek.

“Are you crying?” The toothy grin falls from his face as he realizes what he’s interrupted.

Tooru sniffles, wiping his nose on the long sleeve of his robe and mutters an unconvincing “no.”

“What’s wrong?” The boy frowns. “Do you miss your mom?”

“What? Of course I don’t miss my mom!” The absurdity of the statement is enough to distract him momentarily, and his tears start to dry up.

“Oh, well why are you crying?” He asks, attempting to perch himself casually on the arm of the chair, though he’s hardly tall enough to reach it and he just looks awkward.

“I’m - I was - it’s none of your goddamn business!” Tooru wails.

“Oh, well, okay. I’m Iwaizumi,” he says, offering his hand, “Iwaizumi Hajime.” He stares impatiently at him, clearly not caring that Tooru was just wiping his nose on that very hand. He’s grinning again as though Tooru’s world isn’t falling apart in front of him.

A part of him wants to slap that tanned brown hand away, and yet something stops him.

“Oikawa… Tooru,” he says, slowly sliding his hand into Hajime’s.

“Tooru! It’s nice to meet you! You’re my first friend, you know that?” Hajime beams, shaking Tooru’s hand roughly, clasped between both of his.

“Shhh,” Tooru hushes him. Do you want the whole common room to hear you? He almost phrases it differently, but manages to catch himself before he comes across as any more of a jerk. He had initially judged the kid so hard, but now that he’s talking to him, there’s something positive and upbeat about him and Tooru finds that it puts him at ease.

“Can I ask you something, Hajime?” The name falls off his tongue a little awkwardly, but he wonders if maybe he’s the only one who notices because the other seems to light up upon hearing his name spoken.

“Of course!”

“Are your parents… muggles?” He asks, as though afraid of offending Hajime.

“Yup!” He gives him a thumbs up, his fist appearing much too large for his body, almost like a puppy with large paws. Cute. “I’m the first wizard in my family! Isn’t that cool?”

Tooru finds himself glancing around the room self-consciously. He doubts many others in this common room would find this ‘cool.’

“What about your parents?” Hajime asks, leaning forward in curiosity.

“My parents and my sister are all magical. My father is muggle born though.” He finds himself sitting up a little straighter, listening just a little bit more intently. He still has to hold himself back, though, wanting to wipe that dirt off of Hajime’s cheek.

He wonders if he knows it’s there. He wonders what he’d do if Tooru were to reach across and brush it away…

“That’s so cool! So you’ve known about this place your whole life!”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Tooru replies, feeling a hint of pride, yet oddly enough he doesn’t feel the need the display it. That itself is strange for him.

“So have you been doing magic for years too?” Hajime asks excitedly. There’s no jealousy in his words, which Tooru finds odd, but pleasant.

“No, not intentionally anyway. We’re not allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts until we’re of age,” Tooru explains. “Though once I accidently set this hideous pair of orange pants that my mother was trying to dress me in on fire. I guess that’s what she gets for trying to ruin my sense of fashion at such a young age.”

Hajime bursts out laughing, clearly finding it much funnier than Tooru intended it to be. But even so, Tooru can’t help but smile. There’s something so genuine and… kind, about this boy. His happiness and excitement are infectious, and Tooru finds he wants to hear him talk more.

“So Iwa-chan,” he says, the name coming across all too naturally despite Hajime’s frown, “what exactly were you doing in the…” he almost says muggle world, but feels it may be offensive, “real world before you got your letter?”

“Oh.” Hajime appears a bit caught off guard. “Just, you know… going to school. And playing volleyball! I was going to be a professional volleyball player!”

“Volleyball?” Tooru asks. He can’t recall which of the muggle sports Hajime is talking about.

“Yeah, you know, like six players on each side of the net, and you pass the ball around and try to slam it into the ground on the other team’s side until they can’t lift it up. Whoever let’s the ball hit the ground first loses the rally. There’s a setter and a spiker and defensive positions… I’m a spiker.”

Tooru watches him smile, rambling excitedly, and finally reaches across to bridge the gap between them. “You’ve got dirt on your cheek,” he says kindly. Hajime glances down, as though he can see the spot, then back up at Tooru, continuing on about volleyball. His skin feels warm, and soft as Tooru brushes his thumb across his cheek, smiling now that the spot’s all clean.

“Have you heard of quidditch?” Tooru asks.

“Quid- what?”

“Quidditch,” Tooru repeats. “It’s the wizard sport… played on broomsticks.”

Hajime’s jaw drops to the ground. “No way!”

“I’m going to try out for the team this year. First years never make the house teams, but I’ve practiced a lot and I think I have a good chance,” he says, trying to hide a bit of embarrassment.

The pair continues to talk late into the night, only to realize that the common room is nearly empty by the time the finally looked up from each other.

Tooru laughs a little, sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “We should probably head to bed,” he says, moving to sit up.

“Oh. Yeah, right,” Hajime responds, nodding. “You wanna go to breakfast with me tomorrow?”


He’s about to answer, yes, sure, before he remembers that he wasn’t even sure if he’d be staying until tomorrow. Now, though, with Hajime?

It seems… a little more bearable.

“Yeah,” he says, flashing Hajime a big smile. “I do.”

Error: Are lobsters mermaids to scorpions?
Blueberry: Error its four in the fucking morning.

WIP Wednesday

(Idea stolen from @rcmclachlan)

Yuri knows the house is haunted even before he signs the lease. He comes from a family of mediums. Ghosts don’t scare him, not even the more sinister ones. He’s long been trained to see and speak with the dead, but also ward them off when they turn out to be malevolent.

What he didn’t know before he signed the lease is that the ghost that haunts his house is annoying as fuck, and what he doesn’t know now is how to ward off a spirit that is harmless, but tirelessly obnoxious.

The ghost is named Victor. He’s been dead for at least a half century, and ever since he found out Yuri could see and hear him, he hasn’t shut up.

“Yu-ri, this smells like death,” he sing songs, half faded into the steam coming from Yuri’s macaroni tuna casserole.

“Yuri, you don’t actually get to sleep when you’re dead,” he says at four in the morning when Yuri is throwing on three layers to get to the rink for practice before class.

“Yuri, you’ve seen this episode of Treetop Cat Rescue at least three times,” he says, gliding past and hovering next to Yuri delicately on the couch with his legs crossed. The channel changes to Food Network on its own accord. Victor has haunted the house for so long that he is the house; the air feels heavy with static electricity scratching at the tip of Yuri’s nose, a constant irritation. Victor is everywhere, and he is everything, his essence having seeped in and saturated through to the foundation decades ago.

“Yuri,” he says softly, and it’s the final straw, having Victor be everywhere like this, because whether out of desperation or being an old, forgotten thing he’s also forgotten his manners, and is wrapped around Yuri in his bed while Yuri’s got his dick in his fist and his lip between his teeth. “Who is ‘Katsuki?’”

Yuri throws his comforter up in Victor’s face, even though it just passes through him, which is even more frustrating. He tugs his pajama bottoms back up from where he’d kicked them down around his ankles, and tries to curl over where he’s still hard and pitching a tent in the flannel.

“The fuck?” he manages, eventually. Victor is looking at him curiously, smile divided where he taps at his mouth with his pointer finger. “Personal space, Victor! Privacy! These things aren’t new to the twenty-first century, Jesus Christ!”

Raise your hand if you’ve ever felt personally victimized by Tamaki Suoh.
—  Newspaper Club President Akira Komatsuzawa

anonymous asked:

👑 mafia au

With many million thanks to the ever kick ass @kickassfu who has put up with my gifs for two days and even read this over out of the kindness of her heart!

Thank you for being so wonderful and giving a damn about my writing when even I don’t.

Also you’re an amazing writer and I love you.

Please enjoy!




Caroline huffed at the rain coming down on the crowd that surrounded her probably ruining her blowout and her very, expensive Parisian shoes but she didn’t move. It was against orders. Even now she rolled her eyes at the image of Stefan waving her favorite gun in her face threatening to shoot her with it if she didn’t follow through. Pulling her umbrella out she tried to look as inconspicuous as possible which was hard for a girl with her looks.

No, she wasn’t conceited it was just a given. Caroline probably cursed her looks more than half the time but they got her further into the fold of her criminal family than running the books ever could. Being born into the mafia only got you so far that much she knew being born into the Forbes legacy, the rest a girl had to work for.

She was groomed to be the perfect mob wife, loving gems of every color, knowing who and when to strike but Caroline fought to be more than a pretty face. Caroline was on her own to prove she could get a hit no one could get, Silas, her father’s one true enemy, he had been such an easy read and her being a woman, he never suspected her. Misogynistic bastard.

In this life you were in deep or you were out in the cold but either way it was better than dead cold and sometimes buried. She had even managed to talk him into her trunk before she shot him, two in the skull; Caroline had preened shutting the boot of the car and driving home. When everyone had seen what she’d done they had celebrated until four in the morning and honestly Caroline didn’t remember half of it all she remembered was that she had slept with him, for the first time that night.

With her head bowed low she smirked at the memory as she watched waiting for her mark knowing this is where he would be having kept tabs on him subtlety all this time. It wasn’t her first kill but it was the first she’d feel bad about. He’d been a good lay once when she was young and eager but time had shown its pretty colors to the pair of them and his time was up.

They had sent her expecting results, Caroline always gave results, but she suspected they were testing her. Her loyalty, again, as if Klaus Mikaelson had anything to do with her loyalty to the family she sneered watching the windows as she saw movement inside of the brick building she was watching. It all seemed black and white to them and to them it probably was and it should’ve been to her too.

Klaus had left, joined a rival gang and mysteriously worked his way up a lot faster than she had, done a lot more killing than Caroline would care for having grown up with these guys. That’s where she knew she was still a little too green, these bastards wouldn’t hesitate to kill her but Klaus always would and her family was counting on that. The building’s door opened, the old bell’s sound alerting her to him drawing her away from her reminiscing.

He hadn’t noticed her but she would have to be careful tailing him as he traveled on foot switching sidewalks and back roads in case he was being followed. Klaus would always catch her when she was sneaking up on him in the compound pulling her into rooms they shouldn’t be in to play. She must have been caught up in thinking about these moments too much because he’d walked her right into a dead end.

He turned pulling a weapon from his jacket as he did pausing as he spotted her face under the umbrella, “Bugger, Caroline, you might have frightened me to death,” he uttered in relief.

“That was kind of the point,” she replied in kind treading closer losing her umbrella as he drops his weapon and she lifts hers watching his eyes flicker from her face to her gun.

“So they sent you,” he said betrayal hidden in his tone as he drops his only defense on the ground just like they had all expected him to.

“I’m sorry,” Caroline replied as she cocks her gun shooting him just near his heart watching him tumble to the cold wet ground clutching at his chest.

“You know I actually believe you this time,” he murmured in a weakening tone as she rushes to his side, “Seems fitting though. This is where you’d shoot me.”

She laughed but it was dry, as she holds him on her lap holding his hand to his chest thinking maybe he won’t die, “Here in the heart or at a dead end?”

“Both,” he breathed his eyes slowly closing as he clings to her, “If you would have just come with me,” he tried again but blood flows from his mouth.

“Good job Caroline,” Damon said appearing at the end of the road, smug as ever applauding her as Klaus lays dying in her arms.

“Funny, I don’t even need to call him closer, he comes like a good puppy,” she muttered just under her breath so only Klaus can hear her.

“You’re right, Sweetheart,” Klaus murmured as he reaches for his own gun nearby where he dropped it shooting the Salvatore before he could get another step in.

Another shot resounded in the air and Damon fell to the ground fatally wounded as Klaus ripped open his shirt, “Bloody blanks hurt,” he muttered pulling the bullet from his vest.

Caroline laughs, “Probably from the force of impact,” she said kissing him chastely, something she hadn’t done in years. “Come on, we can’t leave him out here exposed.”

“I’m wounded,” Klaus pouted pulling Caroline in for a proper kiss that was long overdue and lasted longer than both might have cared to admit after years of being apart.

When she first caught wind of this scheme Klaus was already aware of it, it seemed Tyler had been bragging about it in some bar not too long before Caroline had found out. ‘A lucky break’, he had called it when she had used her burner phone and dialed the number she swore she would never need. His voice, familiar and altogether strange had Caroline switching sides and going against her own family.

They talked almost every night, plotting out just what would happen, leaving nothing to chance so sure they would send her to kill him. Caroline had been proven right just three days ago before she had been sent to Boston where they knew Klaus would be alone. Everything went according to plan, everything but the residual feelings that had been exposed by the pair of them when she shot him. She tried to chalk it up to playing the part perfectly as they dumped Damon with a cleaning crew he knew. Her family by now had gotten wind of what she had done and Stefan would no doubt be keeping her gun if only to kill her with it one day and Caroline was planning on making it very hard for him to do.

Klaus had said she wouldn’t have to move up in ranks with him, that she would be at his side though he hadn’t gone into detail about what that would entail. Caroline had made it clear that she wouldn’t be a side piece for him or any of his men, and Klaus had vehemently agreed. As the day grew longer Caroline could only think about what Klaus had planned for her. What her new boss had in store for her and unfortunately they were the same man.

The car had stopped moments only  ago as she drowned in her thoughts as she vaguely realized that Klaus already on his way out of the vehicle when he ducked his head back in asking, “Are you alright?” his eyes holding hers so she wouldn’t lie to him.

“Big changes, that’s all,” she uttered undoing her seat belt to join him knowing the pressure had doubled on their backs just by being seen together.

Caroline had to prove she was loyal now; it wouldn’t be enough for everyone he worked with that Klaus believed in her. Still when she stood up on the sidewalk pretending not to be surprised when he held her hand without a second thought Caroline knew she had made as right a choice as anyone could in this life. Following Klaus into the dark old building she hoped it wasn’t to her death knowing this place wasn’t his main headquarters and she would have to wait to get back home, where ever that was now.

“Where are we?” she asked hesitantly as they climbed up the stairs of the building wishing she had worn more comfortable shoes for this day especially since she would probably be interrogated in a bit.

“My dwelling, no one would ever think to find a mafia leader here,” Klaus replied easily surprising her, something he must have noticed, “Tomorrow we go home.” He said almost reading her mind.

“Klaus,” she asked stopping short wanting to ask what his intentions were but unable to, “Never mind,” she said as they climbed up the third staircase and Caroline pulled off her shoes hearing him chuckle.

“Just in here Love,” he said unlocking the door as she caught up with him, “It’s not much but there’s a couch which I’ll take and a bed for you.”

Caroline’s face didn’t hide the fact that she was disappointed that much was evident by his confident smirk as Caroline turned around trying to hide the fact that he had gotten to her. She felt cold, her umbrella in the back of his car lying on the seat useless and they had run errands after killing Damon. Her clothes were sticky and wet making her freeze in the tempered room as he watched her slide her jacket and black top off of her skin.

Her head turned back to look at him, “I’ll need something to change into,” she told him watching as his mouth hung open watching as she stripped out of her camisole leaving her in a lacy see-through bra.

Klaus swallowed at her movements sensual and above suspicion, completely Caroline, “Shirts,” he uttered with a certain hoarseness to his tone as he pointed to the drawer that would accommodate her best as he gathered himself.

He heard her laugh as she walked to the drawer set opening the one he had pointed to as her free hand unbuttoned her jeans. Red flag, he thought. Caroline was toying with him, his mind screamed at him, after all this time she still had the power to bring him to his knees and he liked it. What had transpired today was merely more proof of it.

Klaus slithered closer pulling his shirt over his head as she straightened pulling her hair over her neck, “Could you help me?” she asked as his hands slid over her back to unhook her bra.

Caroline shivered, she didn’t want to earn his deference by sleeping with him and she certainly didn’t want his gang to think she would be lucky to fall into bed with either one of them. The thing was she wanted Klaus pure and simple. She would work for him sure, keep him close and maybe murder off any of the girls who thought they had a chance with him on the sly.

However Klaus, she couldn’t quite read, ever since earlier when he basically said she had his heart he’s been stand-offish at best so she took to teasing him, just a little. His resolve was strong but her will was stronger and she needed to get him to talk to her, look at her like he once did, as a woman not as another tool in his arsenal.

“Perhaps a shower?” he offered as she pulled his shirt covering her lithe frame from his eager eyes, Caroline shook her head at him as she moved past.

“Too much effort Boss,” she said but the way she said it had his head turning as she slipped out of her jeans and panties before crawling onto the bed giving him a view that made his fingers tremble.

Caroline smiled as she tucked herself into the sheets that smelled of him inhaling deeply as he watched her, “Comfortable?” he asked sharply.

“Did you need a pillow?” she replied in kind tossing him the one that didn’t smell like him, as she settled on her side watching him catch it and sit on the edge of the couch.

“Thank you,” he said punching the pillow as he toed of his shoes and wet socks planning on keeping his jeans on lest she feast her eyes on a familiar protruding member of his anatomy.

“Klaus,” she called his name in way that made his bones chill in pleasure, “Get in the bed, it doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

He lay back so she couldn’t see the face he made, “I’m perfectly fine here,” he then told her rubbing his cock hissing softly as he rolled onto his side so she couldn’t see him touching himself.

“Fine, I’m climbing on top off you and we’ll both sleep on the couch,” Caroline cried as she tumbled out of his bed pulling the sheets with her and settling on top of him.

“Caroline,” he said in a dark tone she knew would have others shaking in their perfectly fitted suits but she just smiled relishing in the feel of his bare skin under her fingertips.

“Bed, now,” she ordered as his arms went around her waist sitting them up reminding them both that all she was wearing was his shirt.

He groaned looking as if he was in pain as he lifted them both up feeling Caroline wrap her legs around him, “You know I could have you killed for this right?” he asked.

“You know I could have really killed you earlier right?” she shot back as he pressed her back into the mattress pulling the sheets she carried over them creating a small bubble for them both.

“Why didn’t you?” he asked, a loaded question for sure, one they hadn’t bothered to discuss in the last few days or ever at least until now.

“I don’t want you dead,” she whispered as her hands cupped his face feeling exposed, feeling his weight on her, feeling everything at once so much that her eyes watered.

“I love you and I never got to say it before but I want to now. Every day if you’ll let me,” she confessed watching his every expression, every feeling she felt touch his eyes.

“I believe you now too,” he murmured before brushing his lips over hers with the briefest of teases as his hands pushed her shirt up leaving her naked under him.

“Really, no, ‘I love you too Caroline’?” she asks as he kisses her loving the feel of her body squirming underneath him as his hands roam over the tense muscles of her stomach.

Shuddering at the feel of her nails digging into his arms as he kisses her, “It was implied,” Klaus answered her as they twisted in the sheets fighting over who got to be on top.

Letters to Bucky (Part Seven)

Part Seven! Seriously they just love each other. So much. I literally rolled my eyes writing some of this because oh my god the fluff. Also a little bit of drama making its way in, but nothing too bad.
Catch up on the story HERE.

Morning came too soon.

Tony sat propped up on the single pillow left on the bed, waiting for Bucky to come back from the kitchen, idly rubbing over the hand shaped bruise on his hip.

“I’m sorry about that honey.” Bucky said with a frown, dropping back into the bed with some water. “I should have been gentler.”

“It’s fine.” Tony waved him off. “It will be a nice reminder that these twenty four hours actually happened. When you’re half a world away by tonight I’ll be able to–”

“Hey.” Bucky covered his mouth with a gentle kiss. “None of that.”

“Sorry.” Tony abandoned the pillow in favor of laying across Bucky’s chest, his fingers tracing down over lots of bare skin, tracing the deep vee of Bucky’s hip bone, loving that the soldier had yet to put any clothes back on. “I tend to be dramatic.”

Keep reading

albedosoyna  asked:

If you are up for writing someone who didn't realize that I WASN'T following you before.. some Gladnis with coffee.

Hello friend! I have followed you back on my main, femmealenko (”my main is femmealenko” is currently my catchphrase, the joys of sideblogs)

I actually wrote two things for this, the first was a slighty more comedic “Gladio forgot to stock up the Ebony in the Regalia and Ignis is Not Happy” but it got a bit out of hand so here’s attempt two. Shout out to my sister who explained to me how the fuck coffee works.

Getting up before Ignis was an art form. You had to be determined, resourceful, and stubborn, or else he’d upstage you by somehow getting up before he’d even gone to bed, having prepared a three course breakfast without so much as rumpling his shirt. Gladio, however, was as determined, resourceful and stubborn as they came, and arose at half past four on the morning of Ignis’s birthday to try and do something nice for him.

Ignis asleep was a rare and precious sight, and it took a lot of willpower on Gladio’s part to leave his side. His instincts were rather to wrap himself around Ignis and enjoy a leisurely cuddle, but instead he got up, pulled on his pyjamas in silence and crept downstairs to the kitchen, which was in its usual pristine state. The last thing Ignis did at night now was to clean, tidy and prep the kitchen for the following morning; he even polished the metal fan hood above the oven on Wednesdays. Ignis took great pride in his kitchen, and that was why Gladio felt a little like an outsider whenever he cooked (which admittedly was not all that often.)

Still, this would be worth the effort. Gladio had studied up, bought for Ignis a very fancy and expensive cafetiere, which would be part of today’s surprise gift, and an eye-wateringly expensive bag of Altissian Cactuar blend coffee grounds (it did not, Gladio had checked, contain actual cactuar). His plan was simple: to make Ignis a really nice mug of coffee and some breakfast.

Gladio’s lack of proficiency in the kitchen came more from an insufficiency of practice rather than an absence of capability; he could, given time and patience and a pan or two to burn through, put together adequate meals if he had to. The coffee here was the real focus, though, and he had no intention of accidentally upstaging it with scrambled eggs. 

Ignis, of course, had to ruin everything by coming downstairs at quarter past five, looking rather bemused to find his kitchen in a state of turmoil. 

‘Goodness. Just what are you up to?’

‘Making you the best damn coffee you’ve ever had in your life,’ said Gladio through gritted teeth as he depressed the plunger on the cafetiere, brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Go back to bed.’

‘I’m up and about now, there’s no need-’

‘Let me be romantic! Get your ass back into that bed!’

Ignis did his best to keep a straight face. ‘As you wish, dear.’ He went back upstairs.

Twenty minutes later Gladio followed him with a tray laden with various breakfast goods and a very large mug of coffee. ‘Here you go. Breakfast in bed for the birthday boy, plus… home brewed Altissian Cactuar coffee!’

‘Quite marvellous,’ Ignis nodded, ‘thank you.’

Gladio set the tray down on Ignis’s side table and got back into bed with him. ‘No prob. I hope it’s okay. Never done coffee like that before.’ He rested against Ignis’s side, world weary, as Ignis lifted the mug of coffee and took a curious sip.

‘Is it okay? Is it nice?’

Ignis gave Gladio a warm smile. ‘It’s delicious. I sincerely appreciate your efforts.’

‘Love you too, idiot,’ said Gladio, pulling the bedcovers up around him to go back to sleep, but with a grin on his face.

Ignis discreetly spat his remaining mouthful of coffee back into the mug.

Jonathan gets drunk pt.2

A few hours later you get up to pee. On the way back into bed you take a moment to watch Jon sleeping. He looks so peaceful but you can’t help but notice the dark shadows that always seem to be under his eyes.

You get into bed as carefully as you can, in order to not wake him up but fail when you feel him squeezing you tight. You turn over to spoon and he immediately lines his body up next to yours.

His breath is hot on the back of your neck and you can feel his erection rubbing you through the thin fabric.

“Does that promise still stand?” his voice is deeper, hoarse now he’s just woken up and it twinges something inside you. The clock besides the bed reads that its half past four in the morning and your resolve shatters.

You turn over and begin to kiss him furiously, he seems a little shocked but wakes up quickly and flips you over so he’s on top. His hips grind into your hard and you have to bury yourself into his neck to contain your moans. You run your hands over his chest, his back, exploring as much of him as you can and he gets the hint and tosses his shirt off.

You wonder if its the last of the alcohol in his system thats making him more confident but that thought ends when he freezes up as you palm his groin over his sweatpants.

His breathing has become heavy and concentrated, his eyes squeezed shut. When you stop they snap open and you reach up to bite his lip.

“May I?” he asks, holding the shirt and you nod, lifting yourself up to make it easier to remove. The sweatpants follow soon enough and it’s just Jon in his underwear.

“Can I eat you out?” he breathes hotly into your ear and you nod vigorously.

He pauses at your breasts to bite your nipple lightly, watching your reaction and then you jolt when his lips brush you suddenly. His inexperience is made up for with his eagerness and you struggle against him faintly, pushing him away after a while.

He looks up with a questioning expression and you pull him towards you.

“I need you…all of you.”

He swallows thickly and you kiss again, suddenly nervous. He leans over to his bedstead and pulls out a condom from the drawer. When he goes to rip the foil you notice his hands shaking softly.

“We don’t need to do this if you’re not ready-.“

He leans down to kiss you before you can finish the sentence. “I want to. It’s just you’re very beautiful and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

You slide his underwear down his thighs and take his penis into your hands, pumping it a few times before you reply.

“You won’t. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You help him roll the condom down and he pushes himself between your legs. He runs the head over your entrance a few times until you’re bucking your hips. Kissing you hard he pushes into you in one thrust and you gasp loudly, nails dragging down his back.

He holds himself perfectly still, watching your facial expression. You’re grateful for this as he isn’t exactly small and you need time to adjust. Eventually though you whisper “Move, Jon!” and he certainly complies.

He starts off gently and then gets rougher with your whimpers and moans. You clench around him, taking him by surprise and he collapses onto you, shaking.

“I’m sorry I didn’t last so long” he says immediately with a remorseful expression on his face.

“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. It was perfect.” And he holds you tightly.

He gets off the bed to knot the condom and throw it away and you watch his ass as he goes. He laughs quietly when he turns around and realises and jumps back into bed with you, the October draft prickling his skin with goosebumps.

You kiss for a little while longer but the exhaustion kicks in and you settle into a deep, pleasant sleep in his arms.

— — —

A few hours later when Joyce gets home, she sees your shoes by the door. Walking in as quietly as she can she closes the door to Jonathan’s room silently. Casting her eyes down so as to not intrude on the sleeping lovers.

anonymous asked:

Hi! Really excited for pirates Au Jonsa

For the following prompt:

Jonsa Prompt-Jon Snow/Targ &Robb Stark are pirate captain of 2 different ships. They’re friendly rivals/frenemies but have common enemy in the Lannisters. Shenanigans ensue,Sansa lands on Jon’s ship/Jon meets and falls in love w/ Sansa. I just really want a Pirate!Jon and fluffy or smuty JonSa. Thanks!

Chapter 1/?

Rated: First chapter is fine for general audiences. Turns E real fast.

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im gonna be in a car for six hours straight tonight yall pray for me

Star Trek: Temporal

While peace has kept the Alpha Quadrant quiet over the 29th Century a new threat is emerging from the future; a race called the Knowun has started going back in time to erase events throughout the Federation’s history. In response Starfleet opens up a new division, the Temporal Division, whose job is to travel through time and find temporal anomalies and erosions where events should not have occurred or would have been catastrophic and find out as much as they can about the Knowun. Among the ships commissioned is the USS Deviation, lead by Kass Sisko and formed from the best and brightest of Starfleet. Their first mission may seem simple enough to investigate temporal signatures in the 26th Century but they’re about to become the most crucial piece in keeping the Federation from unraveling through time.

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For the Good Days

For The Good Days

{Jeon Jungkook x Reader}

Epoch (n)


a time in history or a person’s life that is usually marked by notable events or certain characteristics.


It’s at the age of video games and late night outs with best friends that you find him. When all you ever have to worry about was wrapping up shoots and editing content for a class project and showing up to your shifts at the quaint little bookstore down the street. Routine that he disrupts with his coffee eyes and spring smile.

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17776 fic fuck everything

they stop dying. you keep living. we all keep living. 

first century over and you have divorced your wife and remarried her twice. you wonder whether this would have happened if you didn’t keep on living. you work your way through the entire netflix backlog, and start on hulu. 

fourth century over and you stub your toe on a hoe and bash the handle into your nose and get a text from an unknown number. it’s the weirdest thing that happens to you in decades. 

twelfth century over and on mars there is an enormous larp game that simulates life before the change. people wear elaborate makeup and simulate getting older. they pretend to die. there are graveyards which are just fields filled with blow-up mattresses and people in suits, talking and lounging in the sun. you spend a weekend there but it’s too weird for you. you go back home. 

sixteenth century over and you haven’t seen your children in maybe three hundred years but you’re sure that you’ll see them eventually. they’re out there living their lives. you hope they’re happy. none of them will ever have children of their own 

twenty first century over and they stop making lunchables. when you were a kid you loved them a lot. sure they’re pretty shitty, but it’s the nostalgia of the thing. nobody eats them anymore, though. you havent had one in a thousand years. 

thirty fifth century and is this all there is? is this it? do we just keep going get up in the morning and put on your clothes and eat breakfast and call your friends and walk to the supermarket and buy bread and eggs and butter even though you do not need to eat but its the routine of the thing going to the starbucks cant believe that starbucks even still exists grande americano with half and half the same coffee order that you’ve been drinking for decades for centuries will you be drinking this when the sun burns out god fucking damn you dont even like starbucks but its habit its fucking habit to get up in the morning you’ve divorced your wife seven times youve had four wives and three husbands and you still live in the same house you lived in two centuries ago and you get up and go to the store and buy milk and you’ve watched every adam sandler film ten times already and life. keeps. going. 

thirty sixth century and you start playing football. 


Early the next morning the sound of plotting is coming from the Marauders dorm…

Remus: *still half asleep*

While the other 2 are sat up right on their beds….

First to brake the silence is Peter

and then James…

Remus: guys go back to sleep its four am!!

James: no no no! we cant sleep now lots of planning to do, and we certainly cant do it without your brain!! 

Sirius: he’s right you know, we gotta beat last years prank!

Peter: come on moony… i’ll give you my chocolate bar?

Remus: fine… what ideas do you have?

and with that the four boys planned a tremendous day…

((OOC: thank you everyone wo helped out!!

McGonagall : @ask-rubeus-hagrid

James : @ask-themaraudersmap (Jamie)

Peter : @theyoungroleplayer

Sirius/Remus : Me ))

Hundred-Dollar Rum (Part I)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @scarlet-blossoms 💖

Plot inspired by this comic by @federtanz, Vorona’s design based on this art by @apetunias! Thank you @weirdpine for the quick beta!

Rating: T
Length: 7,700 words
Warnings: family death, grief/mourning, drinking, reckless driving.

Hundred-Dollar Rum
Part I

“Bad,” Vorona announced when Shizuo got home.

He didn’t have time to close the door behind himself. He could only see half of the living-room from where he was, but it was the half she was occupying—sitting at his desk—and she was hunched over in her chair, nail polish in one hand and the other atop the thick economics book she had borrowed the night before. Only half of her toenails were orange, but more than two thirds of the book had been read.

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I had two choices: draw bunnies and bears for the rest of my Fall Quarter while not having time to draw things ya like and having decent sleep OR doodles stuff that isn’t homework while having fun, procrastinate, and then forcing to sleep less hours then previously. Still, this was worth it. Enjoy!

This is Four and he is pleased with himself.

My nights have been pretty much sleepless since I let cats move into my life. I can’t remember what is means to lounge around in bed until late morning at the weekend and I’m up at 5am for work so to sleep in occasionally would be nice.

This morning was a little different, I’m on leave so no need to climb out of bed at silly o'clock. Four starts yowling at 6am, I know this yowl, its for food. I go downstairs and place half a pouch of mechanised meet into a bowl and he dives in, won’t even let m break the chunks up. I leave him to it and go back to bed. The yowling starts up again, I ignore it, to do this is possible and I have Ralf and Alfie on my bed we are comfortable and I nod off to Four’s feline chatter.

I am slightly disturbed by a thump from downstairs, I don’t pay much attention to it although Ralf and Alfie do, they jump off the bed and go downstairs. Its about 8am now and I hear noises like one of them is using the litter tray, that’s fine as long as there isn’t a pong to follow which means I have to get up, remove the offending pong and squirt some air freshener around. There is no pong, ok back to sleep. It now sounds like they are playing and running in and out of the kitchen and hallway. I’m ok with that, they might play a bit rough but at least they do socialise in their own funny way.

Alfie jumps back on my bed at 9am, all right maybe this is all I get, not too early but not too late, Alfie is walking over me and at 5kg that’s a heavy cat. Time to get up and officially give the cats breakfast. I stand at the top of the stairs looking down and notice a mess on the carpet just by the front door. I’m annoyed, my cats know how to use the litter tray and if one of them has pooped on the carpet I’m withholding treats and snacks. It is not a poop.

I look closer and I can’t believe my eyes. Its the remains of a small bird. There are no open windows and so the only way it could have entered the house would be down the chimney and the poor bugger ended up in the jaws of Four. I cleared up but I can’t quite the image out of my head, there were feathers all over the hallway, the kitchen and around the litter tray. I know Four is doing what comes naturally to him, this is the way he lived before deciding that he could do with regular meals and humans to do his bidding.

I didn’t want Dad to see any of the evidence but I had to tell him why I was cleaning up the house and hadn’t fed the cats or had coffee yet. Dad was realistic about it, not like he hadn’t had first hand experience of Four’s bird catching skills. So my week of annual leave ends with my Dad packed and ready to head off on holiday to Canada, me a year older and another bird’s life ended by one of my cats, other than that its been a quiet week.