look at him book it out of the box!

The Package.

Pairing : Sam x Reader
Word count : 2,550
Author : Mel
Warnings : Knotting, Smut, Dom/Sub, A/B/O Roleplay, pinch of praise kink, mention of breeding kink
Square filled : Knotting
Written for @spnkinkbingo

SPN KINK BINGO MASTERLIST



“Hey, Y/N?” Your door opened and you panicked, slamming the laptop shut. “.. What are you up to?”

“Nothing.” You were quick to answer. Maybe too quick.

His eyes moved down to your lap, his eyebrow raising, and a smirk beginning to show. “Your hand says otherwise.” His eyes went back up to meet yours as you quickly pulled your hand out of your pants.

Your cheeks went bright red. “W-what do you need?”

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“It’s February 14th, Neil!”

Nicky was exasperated. It was obvious by the way he looked out of breath even though he was just standing there being rather noisey.

Neil scrunched up his nose. As much as he loved Nicky, he wouldn’t mind hearing him less right now. 

“What’s your point, Nicky?” 

The thing with Nicky, however, was that when you requested a straight answer, you instead got a show. 

Act one of this show was apparently looking around at the rest of the foxes and proclaiming, “Can you believe this kid?!” 

Andrew was coming from his appointment with Bee so wasn’t at the locker rooms yet for practice. Neil found himself silently hoping he would get there faster to shut Nicky up.

Usually everybody would just let Nicky go on his rant, half ignoring him and half egging him on. But when Neil looked past him, he realized that all the Foxes were actually paying attention. Their eyes were focused on Neil with a combination of pity, confusion, and general annoyance. 

Nicky was making a huge fuss now, not actually getting to the point but rather going around it. “Of all the days to not know-”

But Matt cut him off. Which was odd, because Matt usually didn’t cut Nicky off. 

“Neil….do you really not know what today is?”

Keep reading

I think this is reading a book together? Yes? Ok. let’s do this. 

Keith’s old shack smells of wood varnish and old paper. Specks of dust shine and dance in the beams of afternoon sun, and Keith sits in the centre of his small living room surrounded by boxes. He flicks through a book and smiles fondly at the familiar faces that look up at him. 

“Hey babe! Can we donate all these crop jackets?!” Lance’s voice calls from the bedroom. 

“No!” Keith yells back.

“But they don’t even fit you anymore! And I don’t want these fashion disasters in our apartment!”

Our apartment. Keith’s heart thrums at those words. His grin blooms across his face. 

“I think I can make them fit!” He laughs. 

Soft foot falls announce Lance’s entrance into the living room. he lets out a suffering sigh. 

“Babe. Babe. Look. Babe look at this.”

Keith looks up. On the other side of the room Lance stands wearing one of his crop jackets. It reaches just barely under his pecks. The sleeves reach just under his elbow, and the seams at the shoulder look like they’ll burt. 

“There’s no way you can wear these anymore.” He deadpans. 

“I’m smaller than you. Not my fault you got insanely ripped.”

“Keith! You’re not 16 anymore!” Lance implores. “And your biceps are way bigger than mine.” To prove it to him, Lance runs up behind Keith and grabs his shoulders. He gently sways them from side to side and runs his hands admiringly up and down his boyfriend’s arms. 

“Bench press me, baby. I know you can.”

“Laaaaance,” Keith laughs. Lance chuckles and leans forward. His arms wrap around Keith’s neck and he rests his chin on top of his head. His long legs slot next to Keith’s easily. 

“Is it weird being back here?” Lance asks quietly. Keith leans into Lance’s chest. 

“Yeah….” He sighs. “But it’s nice… being here with you. Getting that sense of closure, you know?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to…” Lance looks down and spies the book in Keith’s lap. He freezes. 

“Nooooo way.” He whispers. He moves to look over Keith’s shoulder, and his arms tuck under Keith’s. He reaches forward and takes the book from Keith’s hands, flicking it closed and staring at the cover.

Garrison 2063 Yearbook 

“Holy shit…” Lance whispers. Keith chuckles and it rumbles against him. 

“I know, right? I found it while packing.”

“We have to keep this.”

“Absolutely.” Keith smiles. “Here wanna see something crazy?” He excitedly flicks to a page. A small photo of Pidge looks up at them. Hair cut short. Glasses comically big on her small face. 

“OOOOHHHHHH my god.” Lance squeals gleefully. “WHAT A TINY BABY.”

Keith giggles. “Remember how you thought she was a boy?”

“Look at this photo! You can’t blame me! Look at this tiny androgynous child.” They both laugh. Lance’s muscular forearms wrap and squeeze around his boyfriend’s stomach. 

“There’s also this.” Keith holds up a new page. Hunk’s 17 year old face beams up at them. There’s the mature eyes that Keith and Lance are used to, but there are traces of baby fat around his jaw. His trademark orange headband is also much brighter than either of them remember it being. Years of sweat, sun and being blown into space have since turned his headband almost a pastel colour. 

“Was Hunk ever small?”

“As someone who’s known him since we were 10…” Lance pauses. “No.” He laughs. “Dude could pick up most of our teachers from the time he was 12. I know this because I dared him to.”

Keith shakes his head. 

“I don’t doubt it.”

They continue to flip through pages. Some faces they barely recognise, others have been completely lost to time. They reach the staff pages and Keith and Lance proceed to flip off Iverson and the other instructors that expelled Keith. 

There’s a sharp intake of breath.

In the staff section, smiling up with a handsome face and beautiful dark hair is Shiro. Both of his arms are clearly visible, and there’s no scar marking his face. His eyes gleam with youthful optimism. Guilt churns in Keith’s stomach.

“God…” He deflates. “He looks so young.”

Lance squeezes him tightly. 

“He certainly… has changed.” He presses a kiss to Keith’s temple and brushes his fingers along a scar that courses through his eyebrow. Keith looks down to see Lance’s prosthetic foot nudging his thigh. 

“But so have we.” Lance smiles. “We’re all ok. Shirt’s ok now. And while things were hard…” He presses another quick kiss to Keith’s cheek. “I wouldn’t change anything.”

Keith turns his head towards his boyfriend. His mouth quirks into a grin and he presses a smiling kiss to Lance’s lips. 

“Me neither.” 

“Also…” Lance smirks. His hands hurriedly flick through the pages until he barks out a laugh.

“Can you PLEASE admit that you had a fucking mullet?” He cackles. Keith looks down at the photo and groans loudly.

“Oh my god, look at this child.” He sighs. “Why is he so moody?!” He yells at his 16 year old self. 

“You stupid boy, you don’t even know you’re an alien yet! No one’s shooting at you! Your life is great!” Keith yells. Lance howls with laughter behind him. 

“I think he’s mad…” Lance wheezes, “Because he’s super fucking gay for this handsome boy here…” Lance points at the photo of his teenager self, “But this boy thinks he’s an asshole.” 

Keith coos at the photo of Lance. He brings the book closer to his face and smiles dopily. 

“God you were cute.”

“Were?” Lance blusters. 

Keith hums. He rotates and leans into Lance’s chest. A low chuckle escapes him. 

“You’ve become the hottest and most handsome person in the universe.” He runs his hands across Lance’s broad chest. 

“And I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The yearbook lies forgotten on the floor as Lance leans down to languidly kiss Keith until the afternoon sun slips into the horizon. 

Care

Lucifer x reader

“You don’t care about me?” She looked up at Lucifer, pulling the sheet tighter around her bare chest.

“I don’t.” He mumbled back, squinting in the sunlight.

She shrugged her shoulders and moved off his chest to sleep on the other side of the bed. He stared at her incredulously, insulted and surprised at how easily she could get over him.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

She let out a sigh, sinking down on the fluffy couch they had just carried in. Lucifer absentmindedly started pulling things from their boxes.

“You sure you don’t care about me?”

He nodded, setting a book on the fireplace mantle. “I’m certain.”

She smiled. Their new apartment was already starting to look like home.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“So you don’t love me.” She raised an eyebrow, dipping a finger into the whipped cream on the top of her milkshake.

Lucifer grinned slightly, looking around the small diner. “Absolutely not.” He reached out, gently dabbing cream on to her nose.

She returned the favour with twice as much, wiping her face with a napkin. “Just making sure.”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

“You have to love me by now.” She whispered, playing with the golden band on her ring finger.

Lucifer took her hand into his own, bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”

She laughed and leaned in, pressing her lips against his for a moment. “That’s okay, I’ll wait.”

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Lucifer sat down quietly, looking around the almost empty apartment. He held the small golden ring against his chest. It was so quiet. He ran a finger across a rip in the leather couch, frowning. The silence was deafening, he wished she was here to laugh or sing. He would have to make his own noise from now on.

“I adore you..”

I’m A Good Girl

Summary: Dean has the reader wear something different when they’re alone for the weekend…

Square Filled: Collars

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,900ish

Rating: explicit (smut (collar play, use of a butt plug), language)

A/N: Written/created for @spnkinkbingo 


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The Greatest Gift (Alexander x Reader)

Word Count: 9,279 (when i said it was long, i meant it…)

Warnings: SMUT, angst, swears

Authors Note: JUST FUCKING READ IT PLEASE. IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS FIC. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT, ALSO HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND ENJOY MY HOLIDAY FIC!

Request: this fulfills 2 requests but it will spoil it so i’m not gonna tell you…

Epilogue

Masterlist

It was unfortunate. Of course you were in love with your best friend, and if that wasn’t bad enough, of course he had a girlfriend. You had met Lafayette through mutual friends, naive and young you thought you wouldn’t fall for the tall frenchman. You did eventually. At first it was denial. You couldn’t love him, he was your best friend.  You didn’t love him surely, but no. Every time you saw him, your world spun around your feet. You felt this way until he introduced Adrienne. She tagged along with everything you guys did and you had no choice but to be happy for them. For him. Because he was so in love with her it hurt you to see them together.

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Friendship Is Nice. Friendship and Lingerie Is Nicer.

Summary: CS Modern AU. Friends to Lovers. Emma gets some new lingerie and, intending to get approval from her friends, accidentally sends some revealing pictures to the wrong group chat. Smut ensues.

tagging @emmasbutt who has put up w/ my incessant chatter while writing this fic ♥

Rated M. 6.6k words ~ also on ao3

Emma Swan has not owned a decent set of lingerie in far too long. It’s not as if she’s had anyone to wear it around, has had any need for it. The thought of needing an upgrade to her sexy wardrobe isn’t something her friends have needled her about in a while and therefore, hasn’t crossed her mind.

She’s just gotten her income tax money and seeing as she’s finally in a financially stable enough place in her life to not need to spend the money on bills, she takes a slightly reluctant but much-needed trip to the nearest mall. Too many unstylishly ripped jeans and torn t-shirts have been piling up in her wardrobe and, really, her lack of anything that ranges outside the bounds of leather and simple cotton is kind of sad.

She’s made a decent dent in her wallet—a couple of sheer shirts (who knew sheer was so in), a floral dress, a little black dress Ruby will whole-heartedly approve of, a nice green jacket that is decidedly not leather, and even a pencil skirt—when she passes the Victoria’s Secret.

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bts as boyfriends (namjoon)

♡  tumblr! boy

♡  makes you take his pictures for #KimDaily

over sized sweaters 

♡  “babe do you think we’d look cute with matching hair colors?”

“i don’t think i can pull it off like you do tho” 

♡  late night coffee dates 

♡  philosophical conversations

♡  “i mean yes, existentialism was defined, but i think there’s more, you know, a different side of it.”

♡ tickle fights that always lead to make out sessions

“are U really wearing heels right now?”

♡ A BABY GIANT

♡ “waiT BABE STAY RIGHT THERE” *camera clicks* “ahhhhh so aesthetic

♡ always brighten up your day with cheesy good morning texts

♡ possessive and overprotective af!!!

♡ BOOK SHOPPING!!!

♡ says he’s on his way but he actually just leaving the house yet

♡  H I C K E Y S

♡ breaks the ring box while asking you to marry him

did i mentioned how he loves nICKNAMES

 “Y/N why are you looking like that???”

♡  “ I HATE MATH SO MUCH” 

♡ he ends up tutoring you, giving u a kiss every time u solve the problem correct

a loving and caring boyfriend all in all

Call You Mine || Min Yoongi

Originally posted by queen-of-suburbiaa

Word Count: 1.5k

Genre: Fluff


There was a glimpse of light from behind the curtains as the morning light fluttered in through the open window. Cold autumn air swept in, stirring the sheets around you, rousing you from the comfortable sleep you had found yourself in.

Bright sunlight flittered across the room, bringing your attention to the body next to yours. He was stretched out, his body shifting slightly as he tried to find the missing warmth from when you had moved.

The light seemed to glow, highlighting the expanse of pale skin that laid next to you. Yoongi’s back was exposed to you, reminding you of what you were now able to call yours.

It was nice to finally be able to see Yoongi like this. For him to finally have a day off to be with you.

He usually spent most of his days at the studio, forgetting to come home and do things with you, but he had booked off this specific day to help you out.

The two of you had just recently moved in together and you were supposed to spend the day putting away boxes and setting things up. The living room still needed to be painted and you thought about conquering that.

He stirred softly beside you and you held your breath as he let out a little huff of breath. One eye seemed to peel itself open and he looked at you, just staring down at him.

The gummy smile you had found yourself becoming more and more familiar with came across his face and the both of you just stared at each other.

“Good morning sleepy head.” You whispered quietly. Yoongi’s arm came up, without saying another word, and he pulled you close just hugging your bottom half. You didn’t say a word as your hand found it’s way into his mop of grey hair.

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Strays

@cobaltmoony needed some fluffy Bucky and cat.

Well… there’s Bucky and cat..

He’d had so many names over the years (many years, far too many years). The Fist of Hydra. James. The American. The Asset. Jerk. The Winter Soldier.

Once, he had even been Bucky.


He still is, according to Steve. Steve who has lived too long, and has his own string of names trailing in his wake. Captain America. Steven Grant Rogers. Stevie. Star Spangled Man with a Plan. Punk.

Steve is still Steve, he may even be Stevie. He’s not Captain America anymore, not since the Winter Soldier appeared at his window, metals fingers pressed to the bullet wound in his stomach, scratching at the glass to be let in, like some kind of stray animal.

Steve, Stevie, still had no sense of preservation. He should have closed the blinds and left the thing that had tried to kill him months ago bleed out on the fire escape. But no, he wrenched open the window and dragged the assassin into his home (for fuck’s sake Stevie).

The Winter Soldier had bled all over the bedsheets, and as far as anyone was concerned died there, leaving a ghost.

The ghost of James Buchanan Barnes.


Steven Grant Rogers, Stevie, Dumb Punk, gave up his shield. He had picked it up to save Bucky once, and put it down to the same ends.

They didn’t so much live as warily co-exist in the apartment, on the corner of a street both familiar and strange. They had lived there before, Steve told him, but the building got torn down and they built a new one. Best thing for it, Bucky had said. The old one was a death trap. His mouth did that sometimes, opened up and words spilled out, unexpected and sweet and bitter. Like a head full of firecrackers, memories popping and snapping and if too many went off at once it made him flinch. Made him shiver and tuck himself into the smallest. darkest corner of the apartment, like a stray animal.

So Steve filled the refridgerator with the kind of things the ghost used to eat. Filled the shelves with books that the ghost used to read. The apartment was never silent, a radio in the kitchen, the volume turned low, played big band and swing and jazz, things the ghost used to dance to.

Steve was always so damn stubborn.


Baby steps, the therapist said. Small victories.

He’s killed presidents, and now he’s supposed to feel pride when he walks downstairs to get the mail. He’s brought down governments in a single night but barely manages three stops on the subway.

But it’s worth it, worth all of it and more to see the way Steve lights up when he comes back upstairs with the mail and announces the mission suffered zero casualties. When Steve’s hand wraps around his on the crowded subway and squeezes.

So he walks down to the corner store for milk when they run out, and eats at least once a day, and all the other little things that keep the furrow in Steve’s brow from running too deep.

And he doesn’t punch through the metal side of the dumpster when it starts rustling.


He had managed to pick up orange juice from the store. Not the nearest one just across the street from the apartment, but a bodega two blocks away. When he walked past the dumpster down the nearby alley (old habits die hard and he’s more likely to enter Steve’s apartment by the roof than the doors on the ground floor) it rustled at him and let out a pathetic whine.

Bucky had lifted the lid and found the cat.

The thing was not much more than a scrap of fur and fleas. He had no idea what colour it was, its coat dingy grey and matted. It still had a mouth on it, giving him a half-hearted hiss as he pulled it out of the garbage by the scruff.

The Ghost stared at the cat, and the cat stared back. Then bit his finger.

He offered it a metal fingertip and it bit that too, not even slightly dissuaded by the way it’s teeth skidded over the metal plates.

For the first time in seventy years, Bucky smiled.


The bodega stocked catfood, though Bucky had no idea if the cat preferred the wet stuff in cans or the dried kibble in boxes, so he bought both, the cat safely zipped up in his jacket, it’s flat little head poking out. It’s oversized ears swivelled back and forth as Bucky held out a can of chicken chunks in gravy in one hand and salmon pieces in aspic in the other and told the cat to make up it’s damn mind.

“Mrrr,” the cat said finally, which Bucky chose to interpret as ‘both’.

He pays for the items and walks back out onto the street. The cat makes itself comfortable, borrowing down into his jacket and going to sleep. It’s needle-like claws prick at his thin shirt, digging in whenever he turns too sharply or moves any faster than a walking pace. Since Bucky doesn’t want to be completely perforated he walks slowly down the street rather than take to the rooftops, and anyway he has a bag of catfood.


Steve didn’t look up from his spot on the couch when Bucky slipped through the apartment door and kicks off his shoes, though Bucky would bet good money that he’d spent the whole of Bucky’s absence at the window, quietly worrying.

“Hey Buck,” Steve muttered with a forced nonchalance that fools no one. “You get lost?”

“Mowr,” the cat answered.

Steve’s head snaps up, “What-”

“I founds it in the trash,” Bucky blurted out. “It’s greasy and cranky and smells like crap but…” he falters at the complicated run of expressions that passed over Steve’s features. “You seem okay with taking in strays,” Bucky finished weakly.

Steve frowned silently, and Bucky tensed up, one hand curled protectively around the lump of fur under his jacket. Something in Bucky’s expression seemed to settle him though, and he dropped the book he was reading on the coffee table.

“We’re gonna need more stuff,” Steve announced and pulled out his phone.

He wasn’t Captain America anymore, but that didn’t mean Steve couldn’t get things done when he put his mind to it. Twenty minutes later a harassed looking SHIELD agent dropped off several boxes of random crap that were supposedly essential for cat ownership.

Bucky couldn’t understand the need for a litter tray and unscented, clump-forming, biodegradable whatever-the-fuck to go in the tray (cat’s went outside, right?), or the twine-wrapped wooden kitty adventure playground thing. The collar, okay, fair enough. The shampoo and the flea drops, fuck yeah.

Steve read the instructions on the bottle carefully and gave the cat a wary look. “You’ve got the vibranium arm, you can hold it.”


They covered the bathroom floor with towels, and Bucky placed the cat carefully in the bath, where it gave him an unimpressed look and sat down to wash itself.

The disdain might have been more effective if the cat didn’t stop every time it licked itself to twitch and flap it’s tongue.

Bucky poured a little shampoo into his hands and coated his fingers before rubbing them into the cats matted fur. It gave him a curious ‘Prrrp’, but didn’t freak out until Steve turned on the showerhead, checking the water temperature on the inside of his elbow.

The cat hissed and yowled and bit Bucky’s metal thumb, sending half the tub water onto the floor in its thrashing. Bucky pressed his hand between the cats shoulders and it flattened itself on the bottom of the tub while Bucky rinsed off the soap. Underneath all the grime was silky black fur with white paws and chest and a splodge of white on his nose.

Bucky wrapped the cat up in one of the towels until it was a damp and squirming burrito, it’s nose poking out of one end. Bucky cradled it in his arms, murmuring softly as he carries the cat out to the living room and sits down on the couch. The cat bites his wrist half-heartedly, teeth skidding over metal plates. Steve watched silently from the doorway as Bucky carefully dried the cats fur, working through the tangles with his fingers until it curled up in his lap and falls asleep.


Bucky glanced up when Steve sat carefully on the couch beside him, silently waiting for permission before reaching over to stroke the cats still-damp fur.

Bucky thinks of his first night back, when the Winter Soldier bled to death on Steve’s white linens. It had taken days to heal, the bastardised version of superserum that crawled through his veins forcing out the bullets and knitting flesh and skin back together.

Steve had carried him, bridal style, to the bathroom and placed him in the tub. It hadn’t mattered, ghosts couldn’t feel the washcloth passing over bruises and scar tissue. Ghosts didn’t lean into the touch of hands in their hair, carefully rinsing away shampoo. Ghosts didn’t sigh at conditioner being massaged into their scalps, large, gentle fingers teasing out the knots and tangles.

Ghosts didn’t fall asleep on the couch, wrapped in towels and blankets, half listening as their failed mission made endless phone calls in a hushed voice, pulling apart the pieces of his life and putting them back together again with a ghost shaped hole in the middle. In the heart.

The cat purred in it’s sleep, it’s claws flexing rhythmically, leaving pinholes in Buckys jeans.

Piece by piece, everything falls into place


“He needs a name,” Steve murmured.

The cats head was pillowed in the palm of Bucky’s metal hand, fingers curled loosely around it’s fragile skull. It had one paw wrapped around Bucky’s wrist, holding him in place. As if he could even consider leaving.

Such a fragile little thing, and yet it trusted him. Trusted him to keep it safe and warm and alive.

Bucky glanced at Steve. “He?”

It’s not the thing he wants to say. There aren’t words in any language for that. There isn’t time enough in their artificially extended lives to explain it all.

“I got a, uh, eyeful when he was thrashing around in the tub,” Steve mumbles. “Definitely he.”


Ghosts don’t have names. They have identities - The Weeping Woman, The Headless Horseman, The Winter Soldier. Not names.

Bucky isn’t a ghost’s name.


Bucky shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Steve knows him too well to fall for it. “You pick.”

Steve takes a long moment to consider the cat. Bucky watches him from the corner of his eye. The lines of Steve’s face, the curve of his jaw. Things that ice and time and mind-wipes couldn’t erase.”

“He’s your cat, you choose,” Steve says finally.

Bucky huffs. “I’m bad at names. You’re the one who came up with Bucky. You pick.”

Steve lights up, and for a moment Bucky can’t look at him. It’s like staring into the sun.

“You remember that?”

Bucky bristles under Steve’s look of surprise. “Yeah. ‘Course I remember.”

Steve turns his face to Bucky’s neck and has to take a deep, shuddering breath.

Bucky waits for Steve to pull himself together, Steve’s breath, hot and damp against his skin raising goosebumps.

Really, it’s frankly embarrassing. A former spy and a decorated military tactician, and neither of them had figured it out yet.

You don’t go against your commanding officer and damn well walk into enemy territory in a stage costume for a friend. Seeing an old friend doesn’t break seventy years of Hydra programming.

You don’t hand over your shield to a guy dressed like a bird for a friend.


“Tom?” Bucky asks.

Steve snorts, still hiding in the collar of Bucky’s shirt. “That’s not very creative,” he mumbles.

Bucky shifts and turns to Steve, pressing his lips to the top of Steve’s head.

“Orange Juice.”

Steve’s head snaps up, and he meets Bucky’s eyes. “What?”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth ticks up. “I went out to get orange juice.”

Steve coughs out a laugh. “Seriously?”

Bucky gives him a mock glare. “You gotta problem with that?”

Steve shakes his head, his eyes bright.

“You want to keep him?” Bucky asks softly.

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“You want to keep me?” Bucky murmurs.

Steve frowns. “You’re not a thing, Buck. How many times do I gotta explain-”

Bucky leans forward and kisses him, soft and brief. Steve falls into a shocked silence.

“I mean…” Bucky whispers against Steve’s soft, warm lips. “Do you want to keep me?”


For a second, a heartbeat, Bucky thinks that he’s made a terrible mistake. Steve lets out a soft breath and kisses him back.

“Yes,” he chants between sweet presses of lips. “Yes. Yes.”

Fight For Love - Theo Raeken and Stiles Stilinski

Originally posted by procrastinationoutlet

Summary: Theo brings an injured Stiles to (Y/N)’s doorstep after a brutal fight over her love.

“(Y/N). Help!” I heard from outside my door followed by loud knocks. I quickly ran to the front door after putting on my dressing gown due to me being in my pj’s. I swung open the door and Theo shoved past, holding a bleeding Stiles.

“Oh my god! Quick, put him here.” I say as I run into the kitchen and shove all the books off the counter. “I think I still have a kit from Deaton; give me a sec.” I run out the room and search for a small green box that had needles and supernatural healing remedies. I spot the box in one of my draws and grab it, sprinting back down to Stiles. 

“Okay, what happened? What creatures done this to him?”

“Uhh werewolf.” Theo mumbled and I raised my eyebrow giving him a quick glance. 

“Stiles, you okay?” I say as I hold his cheek making him look me in the eyes. He cries in pain and shakes his head, unable to talk. “We need to work quickly.” I rip his shirt off and grab a cream, needle and thread out of the box and lay them out in front of me. “Stiles, I’m sorry but this is going to be one of the worst things you’ll ever feel.” I say before applying the cream to his wounds. He flinches and wails in pain. “Hold him down, Theo!” As I begin stitching his wounds I see Theo’s veins turning black. I smile at him softly when I notice how much pain he’s also going through by absorbing Stiles’. I look back down at Stiles and notice that he’s now passed out which will make it easier for me to work on his cuts.

“What happened?” I ask Theo as I continue to stitch Stiles together.

“There was this uh.. giant pack of werewolves.. and uh..-”

“I know it was you. I can see his blood on your fingers. Why?” Theo inhaled deeply and sighed. 

“He found out something and went crazy angry. Started yelling and punching me. It was like he was out of his mind. And then something came over me and I just… You get the picture. When I came to my senses I realised he was hurt. You were the first person I thought to come to. You know, with all your training with Deaton and stuff..” Theo said but it was obvious that he left some parts out. I decided not to press further on the subject and I finished stitching Stiles in quiet as Theo fumbled around looking at all the different creams and liquids I had stored. 

“All done. He should be awake in an hour or so. I’ll just put him on my couch and watch over him.” 

“I’ll stay too!”

“What?” I giggled.

“I mean, to watch over him. I’ll stay and take him home when he’s better.” 

“Okay… I’ll go and set up the couch one sec.”


“You grab his feet.” I say as I walk back into the kitchen after setting up the fold out couch. I grab ahold of Stiles’ arms/shoulders as Theo grabs his feet and together we carry him to the couch. “Get me when he wakes up, will you?” 

“Oh, I thought I was staying with you?”

“You’re staying there.” I laugh and point at the other side of the pull out bed, next to Stiles. “Goodnight!” I smile sweetly and head off to bed to get an hour or so of sleep.


“(Y/N), wake up.” I feel a hand lightly shaking me. 

“Huh?”

“Stiles, he’s waking up.” I shoot out of bed and quickly make my way downstairs. When I see him propped up on his elbows I smile widely.

“So? How are ya feelin?” I ask smug.

“Not too great, if I’m honest.” He groans.

“Yeah, Theo told me what happened.”

“What? You told her? What the fu-”

“No, not that part.” Theo said with a look that said ‘shut up’.

“What part?” I cut in. When no one answered I got annoyed. “Theo?” My voice deepened. 

“Okay, okay. We were fighting over you.” 

“What?” 

“Theo said that he was going to ask you out and I got angry at him” Stiles interjected, guiltily. 

“And so Stiles here decided to throw a few punches.” 

“I would’ve beaten you if it weren’t for your dumb powers. It’s cheating.”

“Oh, you wanna go again? No werewolf powers and I’ll still smash you.”

“Stop! What the hell has gotten into you two? You’re acting like children. Can someone please actually explain what the hell happened?” I yelled which shut them up.

“Theo told me he was going to ask you out and he’s known for months how much I like you. It’s as if he was doing it to spite me.”

“Oh, because I can’t like a beautiful girl who doesn’t treat me like they think I’m about to kill someone every second of every day!” 

“Well, have you ever thought about not killing people?” 

“I haven’t since I developed feelings for (Y/N).” Theo turns to me and his whole aura changes. “You honestly changed me for better, (Y/N). I don’t know what I’d do without you. Frankly, I’m scared of what I may become.” I stand there, looking at the two in shock. 

“T-this is a lot for me to take in right now. I love you both so much but… I just don’t know in what way I love you. I think I need some time to figure out my feelings… Theo, can you take Stiles home? Without hurting one another?” I say softly. He nods and they leave quietly before Stiles turns around and thanks me for helping heal him. I smile and close the door, locking it. I lean my back against it and huff. “Jesus Christ. How am I going to do this?” I mumble to myself before making my way to bed, eventually coming to a conclusion.

I love…


If you guys enjoyed this let me know and I’ll write an alternate ending for each of them! It should only be a short epilogue of some sort, though.

anonymous asked:

Valentine's Day prompt: hamburr is opening candy hearts. Alex as a joke, puts a heart labelled ‘Kiss Me’ on their tongue and Aaron just gets up and leaves

“You wanna split these candy hearts?”

Alex slowly looks up from the book he’s reading, blinking the words away from his eyes so he can focus on Aaron’s face in front of him, which is looking back at him with a strange look of nervousness that Aaron never expresses.

“Candy hearts are kind of gross,” Alex tells him with a shrug, looking at the box of them clutched in Aaron’s hand. “They taste like chalk.”

“Is that a no?” Aaron asks, looking crestfallen, which causes Alex to throw the book of his lap and sit up a little straighter on the couch.

“No.” He stares at Aaron for a beat longer, wondering why his boyfriend is being so weird. He’s never mentioned liking candy hearts so much. “It’s not a no, I guess. We can eat them if you really want to.”

“I do.” Aaron scurries over and sits next to him, opening the box and shaking one out onto his own palm before shaking a second one out to hand to Alex. “There. Eat it.”

“Thanks,” Alex says slowly, still wondering why Aaron is being so weird. His leg is shaking up and down against the couch, too. “Is this because it’s Valentine’s Day? You’re trying to do something romantic? Cause let me tell you, making me eat chalk flavored candy is not high on my list of romantic things to do.”

“Shut up and eat the heart,” Aaron grumbles, popping the one he’s holding into his mouth and grimacing, rolling his eyes when Alex snorts at him. “I just thought it would be nice to do, that’s all.”

“I thought we agreed no grand gestures on Valentine’s Day?”

“Well, since you hate candy hearts, I’d say this doesn’t count as grand and we’re still sticking to that promise.”

“You’re weird,” Alex says, smiling when Aaron sighs heavily. He loves messing with Aaron. Actually, he just loves Aaron in general, if he’s being honest. Alex sits up even straighter, struck by a sudden idea. “Hey, gimme those.” He reaches for the box and yanks it from Aaron’s hand, ignoring the angry sound that escapes Aaron as a result.

“Give that back!”

But Alex ignores Aaron, shaking out several of the hearts and then discarding the box entirely when he finds the one he’s looking for, the one with the words kiss me written on it. He pops the heart into his mouth and then sticks out his tongue so Aaron can see it, wiggling his eyebrows as he does.

Aaron stares at him for a few moments, his face switching from angry to completely blank. Then, he lets out a slow breath and stands up, turning away and walking into the kitchen, leaving Alex alone on the couch.

Alex sighs and swallows the heart, pouting slightly as he leans back on the couch. Aaron is no fun. Why did he even want to eat these stupid candy hearts in the first place? Alex stands up with the intention to demand some answers, but a slight crunching sound distracts him.

He looks down to see that the box of candy hearts had spilled onto the floor, one of which he’s just crushed with his foot. Knowing that Aaron will have a fit if he leaves the mess, Alex bends down to pick up the hearts. As he’s cleaning them, one catches his eye, and Alex feels his breath catch.

He grabs it with a shaking hand, holding it up closer to his face, re-reading the words on it over and over until he’s sure that there’s no way he’s hallucinating.

The heart says marry me.

Now, Alex may hate candy hearts, but he’s pretty positive that they don’t usually come packaged with ones that have marriage proposals on them. Holy shit Aaron was trying to propose.

Alex scoops up the rest of the hearts and stumbles his way into the kitchen, where Aaron is just standing there, leaning against the fridge. Alex goes up behind him, trying to find the words, when Aaron slowly turns to look at him.

“Is this…were you-” Alex stutters to a halt, holding out the candy heart wordlessly, watching in amazement as Aaron’s expression turns nervous and then embarrassed, and then closed off once again. “Hey, no, you don’t get to act like this isn’t a huge fucking deal. Were you gonna propose?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit,” Alex breathes out, stepping closer to Aaron. He reaches out to take his hand, squeezing it. “You were gonna ask. Aaron,” Alex pauses and licks his lips. “Ask me. I want you to ask me.” 

“Are you going to say yes?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

“I…” Aaron’s hand is shaking in his, but he swallows and nods, squeezing Alex’s hand tightly as he takes a deep breath. “Alexander, will you marry me?”

“You dork,” Alex says softly, blinking his eyes rapidly and starting to laugh. “You absolute dork. I can’t believe this is how you’re proposing to me.” He laughs even harder and then leans forward to kiss Aaron, needing to wipe off the scared look on his face. Then he pulls back and looks down at the candy hearts he’s still holding in his hand, letting some of the drop until he’s only holding one. He reaches out to give it to Aaron.

“Is this supposed to be your response?” Aaron asks, finally starting to smile, his eyes warm. He looks down at the heart, his smile growing wider. “Alexander, this one is blank.”

“No, it’s not,” Alex argues, leaning his forehead against Aaron’s. “It’s a candy heart, also known as a symbol of love. I candy heart you, get it? I candy heart you, as in yes I’ll marry you, because I love y-”

Aaron cuts off the rest of his sentence by connecting their mouths again, his free hand coming up to cup Alex’s cheek gently. Then he pulls back, smiling the biggest smile Alex has ever seen and stroking Alex’s face this his thumb. 

“I candy heart you, too.”

Alex laughs, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s neck and pulling him close, feeling like he’s going to burst.

He’s got the best fiancé ever. 

“Rum & Coconuts” - h.s. Part 5

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

—–

—–

You felt like it was back when Harry was touring for months and you could hardly talk to him, let alone know where he was. But this time around, you were running a business and you knew that while you were slaving over paperwork and getting paper cuts and paint on more of your clothes, Harry was probably just sitting around writing or swimming in the ocean or drinking and that made you a little mad and jealous but also made you focus more.

Savie was over the fucking moon, of course, because she and Beau were together and he was visiting her for a little while and sticking around as he worked on his next exhibit.

“Artists really can live anywhere as long as they have space to work,” Savie told you as you flipped through some design books. Your office had never been more messy and stocked in your life as you surrounded yourself with work and threw yourself into it to fill the void in Harry’s absence. 

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Do You Want To Grab A Coffee?

Carry On Countdown Day 1! For @carryon-countdown!

Prompt: Coffeeshop AU (AKA the Soulmates!coffeeshop!AU that no one asked for)


Baz hated soulmates.

You could always spot them when they came in for coffee. Giggling over nothing, one of them ordering both drinks because they just instinctually knew exactly what the other wanted. Their soulmarks proudly on display.

Girls coming in wearing a hoodie too big to be hers, boys reeking of bubblegum perfume. Girls with lipstick smudged on their necks that didn’t match the shade on their lips, boys with matching ‘I’m His’ sweaters.

Soulmate pairs were always filtering in and out, making the whole damn coffeeshop smell like sickly sweet hope, and Baz hated it.

The tiny girl he was serving at the counter wrinkled up her nose, cocking her head side to side.

She finally turned to him. “Okay! So, I’ll have a small butterscotch latte, and she,” she jerked her thumb to a Gigi Hadid doppelgänger leaning against the wall, “will have a mocha cappuccino.”

Baz just jerked his head once. “I’ll have it right out, Trixie.”

“Thanks, Baz,” Trixie chirped in that grating, horrifically squeaky voice she had.

Baz busied himself with their drinks, but he could still overhear Trixie tittering to her soulmate, the one that was far too beautiful to be real. They always came in during the lunch lull, so he was forced to hear them being gross to each other with painful clarity.

God, he hated soulmates.

As he placed the drinks on the counter, and Trixie’s girlfriend glided over to pick them up, his sleeve inched up.

Baz cursed, quickly yanking his black sweater in place. Luckily, the only one that had seen had been Baz himself, but he hated the reminder.

He hated what he saw when his sleeve rode up.

The bare, blank skin where a soul mark should be.

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Graduation

Because I’m graduating in ten days and having some feelings 

-

Ten days till graduation and Jack should be happy. But he’s not.

In theory, everything is perfect. He’s got a job lined up after he graduates, his dream job, playing in the NHL with the Falconers. He found an apartment already, furnished and ready for him as soon as graduation is over. All that’s left is packing up what few belongings he has in the Haus and heading off to start his new life.

The future stretches ahead of him like a highway, freshly paved and smooth and straight. Jack knows exactly what’s going to happen, for once in his life he’s in control of his destiny. It should calm him. But it doesn’t.

He takes a long look around his room and sighs. He’s going to miss this place, this poorly-built Haus that’s falling apart at the seams. It’s hardly a suitable place for anyone to live, much less several full-grown hockey players, but it’s a home. It’s the first home he ever found for himself.

Bittle is across the hall singing some Beyonce song, or maybe it’s Rihanna or Taylor Swift. It all sounds the same to Jack, although sometimes he guesses wrong on purpose just to see Bittle laugh. Come to think of it, he does a lot of things just to see Bittle laugh.

Ten days till graduation and Jack should be happy. But he’s in love, and he’s leaving. That’s how it goes, he reminds himself. It’s time to move on from college and start a new life in the NHL. But he knows that when he goes, he’ll leave most of his heart at Samwell with the team, with Bittle.

Jack packs some of his books into another box and wonders how he never realized this until now.

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Artificial Love

AU: Biopology; an experimental AI manufacturer known for its many types of robots ranging from pets to lovers to trained assassins. Anything you were looking for, they could make it. But when you jokingly said you wanted a boyfriend, you weren’t expecting your friend to actually get you one… Well, kind of.


Genre: Fluff, Robot!au

Member: Xiumin

Words: 1,099


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In Service of the King

Me and @xnoctits​ used to joke about Noct being a pillow princess but then she had to go and catch feelings for him which in turn lead us to giving him better sex headcanons. I for one will always remember Pillow Princess Noct. Gone But Not Forgotten. RIP. January 2017 – March 2017 (Or whenever this woman caught them feels officially lmao).

Anyway, NSFW headcanons coming in for the sleepy prince.

As as per requested, Gladio’s will be posted sometime later tonight!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

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A Valentine's Day Tale

Was supposed to be main PTA Sanders but ended up being Prinxiety centred. Sorry.

Anyway, to the fic

—–

Flowers.

Chocolate.

Games.

Puppy.

Kitty.

Logic growled deeply as he stared at his phone, going through the list for the tenth time that week. Valentine’s Day was coming again and until that week, he had been feeling like that was his year. That he would rock the day with a wonderful present and a date that would forever stay in Morality’s head. And he would like it so much they would do it again, and again, until they started dating, and the dating lead on to copulation and then marriage, probably.

Okay, maybe Anxiety had been right when saying that was basically The Sims but… Logic knew no other way on how things could go. Besides, he didn’t even know if personas like him and Morality could even copulate. Or marry. But that was beyond the point.

Beyond the point because if he didn’t find the perfect gift in time, he would t even find out if it was possible or not.

“Forget the chocolate”

“Go with the flowers”

Logic jumped up in the air when he heard the other two speaking, Anxiety and Prince materialising next to him out of nowhere. He could only wish he knew how to do that. He was the one that least popped in in Thomas’ life and did it even less when it came to the others.

“Flowers?” Anxiety complained, raising his eyebrow and making a disgusted face. “So predictable”

“What do you suggest? You know Logic hates dogs” Prince said, hands on his waist, and Logic raised his hand to intervene, but neither of them were paying attention.

“A game, brilliant minded. A game” Anxiety complained, rolling his eyes. “We all know dad is a child when it comes to board games”

“He does not understand video games, that’s for sure” Prince agreed. “But he’s a child for everything really. Unless he’s giving a lesson”

“Oh, he gives you lessons now?” Anxiety asked, a wide smirk on his face, and Prince blushed before groaning in anger.

“You are the most perverted minded person in this household.” He growled, and then rubbed his eyes. “Why do you have to be creative in the worst way?”

“At least I’m creative. I’m not thinking about giving chocolate and flowers to my probable date on Valentine’s Day, right Logic?” The dark persona teased, still smirking. Only then Logic received the attention back on him and he sighed.

“I am not going to start a discussion with the two of you. This is the information I collected through the weeks of careful observation. There is nothing else” he said, fixing his glasses, but Anxiety rolled his eyes, annoyed.

“He needs a watch. Dad has been asking the time for all of us at least three times a day. He doesn’t have a watch. Give one to him” he said, and Logic’s eyes widened.

“How do you…”

“I pay closer attention than you think” Anxiety assured, and then shrugged. “Thank me later”

“It is a great idea” Prince agreed, and Logic smiled a bit, nodding to himself.

“Yes. Good idea” he said, biting his lip. “Now all I have to do is go out and buy the clock. Thanks!” He got up, grabbing his coat and rushing out of the door straight to the mall. “And good date!”

He was too fast to see how both sides blushed before they headed off to their own rooms.


“Prince! Anxiety!” Morality called from his room just before they could enter their own. The two personas looked at each other before walking slowly to the father’s room, getting inside to see him on the bed surrounded by paper, glue, paint, scissors and glitter. He looked up as they entered, smiling. “Hey!”

“What are you doing here?” Prince asked, a smile growing on his face. “Is this…”

“Yes. I’m making a picture book” Morality said, biting his lip. “But it’s coming harder than I thought. Could you help?”

“Are you giving that to Logic?” Anxiety asked, and the father nodded happily. “Well then you can put it in the fireplace, because he will hate it”

“Anxiety!” Prince complained, as Morality’s face fell.

“What?!” The dark persona replied. “You know I’m right. You should just buy a book about weird facts. Or any book at all. Making a picture book is a waste of time. It’s Logic. He won’t even lie saying he like it. He’s not that sensitive”

“B-but” Morality mumbled, voice breaking slightly, and Prince shushed him, shaking his head.

“Don’t listen to ruin-mood over there. He will love it! I know it. Do you need any help?” He asked, and the father sniffled, rubbing his slightly teary eyes.

“N-no. Anxiety is right. I’ll just buy a random book or whatever” he mumbled, standing up and walking inside his bathroom, leaving Prince and Anxiety alone. The royal stared at the other angrily, but Anxiety just shrugged.

“I am hurting him so he isn’t hurt by his affection”

“You’re just going up in my list, Anxiety” Prince said angrily, standing up from the bed and walking to him. “You don’t know if Logic would like it or not”

“Yes I do. I know how Logic works. He would even say he liked it, but he would lock it up in his closet and never see it again” he shrugged, walking out of the room and being followed by the royal. “Besides, that’s my duty: make sure no one embarrass themselves.”

“Your duty is making people feel bad about what they love” Prince said, coldly. Anxiety felt his chest tighten and looked at Prince angrily.

“Oh what now? That’s how I work. I can’t just be nice to everyone like you can!” He said, clearly offended and upset. “Besides, they love each other already! It’s not like they can’t just give each other a kiss and be done for”

“Damn it Anxiety, for someone that cares so much about doing everything right so there is no embarrassment involved, how can you not see that giving gifts is just as important as declaring your love for someone!” Prince said, outraged. “It’s a demonstration of how much you care about someone. Bought or handmade, expensive or cheap, good or bad, it matters not! The fact that you remembered is all that matters when the person really loves you. Obvious that Logic would prefer an encyclopaedia instead of a handmade picture book, but he would have loved it just the same. And even though you convinced Logic against the puppy or the flowers, Morality would have loved any of those just the same as a clock. You claim to know everything better than everyone because you’re scared of trying and failing, and I get it. But don’t push your fears into others. Specially those two. They deserve each other” Prince said, angrily, taking Anxiety by surprise. “Now I will try to convince Morality to make the book and you stay out of it”

As Prince left, Anxiety started to rethink what he had done, and suddenly the images came to him. The future, good and bad, in all options. The flowers, chocolate, puppy, kitten, book, encyclopaedia. And suddenly, nothing mattered anymore, because in the end, the two were always finishing up together, happier or sadder, but always in love.

‘More glitter!’ He heard Prince saying, and Morality giggles, and he sighed, walking to his room. He hated Valentine’s Day, he hated being wrong, he hated Prince being right, and he hated feeling weak like he was.

And as he entered his room, he stared at the fantasy book in his shelf, standing out from everything else, with a golden cover that shone, the present he had bough to give Prince. Now, it was no use. Prince would never want it.

He laid down on his bed and covered himself up, closing his eyes.

Sleep until the sun went away, for sure.


Prince hadn’t seen Anxiety all day, but now it was night and he was sitting on the stairs, excitedly waiting for Logic’s arrival so he could see the interactions between him and Morality. The father was waiting for the teacher on the couch, holding the handmade book and bouquet of fake flowers. He looked nervous, but happy, his feet moving to calm himself down.

Prince’s eyes widened when the door opened, and Morality jumped up, grinning widely. Then, his eyes widened as well, and Prince frowned, not being able to see Logic because of the location of the door. Morality let the bouquet and the book fall and he rushed out, bringing a soaked up Logic inside.

Only then Prince realised it was raining.

“I think I have a cold” Logic mumbled, completely soaked, and Morality shushed him, sitting him down on the couch.

“Worry not. I’ll grab some towels and make some tea” he said, taking out Logic’s tie and looking up at Prince, who in a jump rushed upstairs to Logic’s room, grabbing three towels and dry clothes before going down again.

“Here” he said, and Morality smiled, taking the clothes and towels as Logic removed his shirt and pants and was quickly wrapped around towels and dried by the father.

“What were you thinking? The time girl said it would rain in the evening” Morality said, and Logic sighed after sneezing.

“I forgot… I had to buy your present” he said, and Morality’s eyes widened. That was Prince’s cue to walk away slowly, returning to the stairs, only to realise that he wasn’t alone now. Anxiety was there as well, watching.

“Present? What present?” The father asked, and the teacher chuckled quietly.

“Your valentine present. I wanted to be your valentine, but everything went terribly wrong” he said, and then removed a case from the pants on the ground. “I saved the present, though. But the roses were destroyed”

“Oh…” Morality mumbled, taking the box and opening it. He smiled widely, taking the black clock out and giggling as he put it around his wrist. “It’s beautiful. Thank you”

“Welcome” Logic mumbled, drying his hair as Morality grabbed the book and the flowers from the floor. “What’s that?”

“Your Valentine’s Day present” he said, and Logic stared at him surprised before taking the presents in his hands and smiling shyly.

“Is this a picture book?” Logic asked, raising an eyebrow, and Morality nodded, looking at the ground. “And fake flowers?”

“Well yeah… I don’t know if you would like it but…” He started, but Logic shook his head and grinned.

“I loved it” he said, and Morality squealed contently before hugging the other tight. “Wait! I’m all wet!”

“I don’t care” the father giggled, kneeling down between Logic’s legs and grinning at him. “Will you be my valentine?”

“I already am” Logic said, rolling his eyes, and before he could react, Morality wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him hard, making Logic put his hand on the father’s waist out of instinct but quickly respond to the kiss, pulling him closer and forgetting about the fact that he was wrapped in towels while not wearing much.

Prince smiled as the two realised that, Logic blushing deeply and Morality laughing, and he then sighed romantically.

“You were right after all” anxiety muttered next to him, and Prince raised one eyebrow, looking at the persona next to him.

“Well it’s not everyday that I listen that” he said, but Anxiety just sighed, looking away. “Hey. I am sorry too. I didn’t mean to let it all out like that”

“No, you were right” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I was being an asshole, as usual. I should have just let them be”

“Oh shush it you. No time for self pity” Prince said, and then slowly took a small box from his pocket. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jason toddler” he teased, giving it to Anxiety, making his eyes widen. “I really liked that nickname”

“I see…” Anxiety muttered, taking the box and opening it slowly, before a small smile creeped up his lips. “Eyeshadow? Really Roman?”

“You never call me by my name” Prince gasped, and smirked. “Does that mean you like me now?”

“Nah” Anxiety said, and then sighed, taking out the book from behind him. “I bought something for you too”

“Is this a fantasy book?” Prince asked, eyes wide as he took the book in hands and opened it. “It’s the fantasy book…”

“Well I…” Anxiety muttered, but Prince shook his head, leaning forward and giving him a tight hug.

“I loved it. Thank you” he said, smiling widely and pulling back, only to be held by Anxiety, the dark persona holding onto his clothes. “Anxiety..?”

No more could have been said. Anxiety swallowed his pride and his fears and moved in, pressing his lips to Prince’s in a quick, chaste kiss - very unlike Morality’s - before jumping up and rushing upstairs to his room, leaving a confused, blushing prince behind.

“Geez Prince, the bell really rang in your midnight ball” Morality said, smiling from under the stairs, while Logic chuckled.

“Your carriage finally became pumpkin hun? How are you feeling?” Logic asked, and Prince stared at them confused and embarrassed.

“What just happened?” He asked, shakily, and the other two chuckled deeply.

“Your date just ran away to, let me quote, 'hide under the covers until the sun goes away’” Logic said, smiling in the most relaxed way Prince had ever seen.

“And you should go after him” Morality nodded, grinning. “Because that’s what good dates do”

“I… Well…” Prince mumbled, and then stood up. “Okay” he took a deep breath. “Good night for you two”

“Thanks!” Morality smiled.

“We will” Logic assured, smiling, and Prince smiled back, before rushing up to Anxiety’s room, knocking on the door.

“Go away Ana” Anxiety growled from inside, and Prince couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, still holding the book that was given to him.

“I don’t want to build a snowman, Ann” he said, rolling his eyes and then looking at the door handle. “It’s not locked. You don’t have a lock”

“Well then come in uninvited. We have already discussed the whole consent thing” anxiety replied, but Prince only smirked.

“I didn’t consent for the kiss you gave me” he teased, and Anxiety growled, making him giggle as he opened the door. “Really though, no harm done” he said as he entered the dark room. In the bed, there was a lump under the covers, and Prince closed the door before walking to the bed and sitting next to the lump. “Talk to me Ann”

“I’m mute, like Ariel” Anxiety mumbled, shuffling away from Prince. “Leave me alone”

“Learn sign language. I know it” Prince said, and then slowly moved one hand up to the covers, pulling them down slowly to reveal a very shaken Anxiety, blushing deeply with tears on his eyes. The royal frowned, worried, and stared at him. “Ann, why are you crying?”

“I’m not” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and destroying his make up. His voice was even for someone as upset as him. “What do you want?”

“Talk, perhaps? You did kiss me down there you know? I wasn’t expecting that” he said, smiling, but Anxiety just huffed.

“I wasn’t expecting a valentine gift either and here we are” he mumbled, and Prince sighed before laying down next to Anxiety and placing his hand on the other’s waist, over the blankets. Anxiety froze at the touch, before making himself relax. “Prince, what are you doing?”

“Well… What I should have done long ago, I guess” he said, before moving a bit closer and pressing their noses together. “Happy Valerinetine’s Day” he teased, before moving forward and kissing Anxiety, pulling him closer by his waist and wrapping the arm around him.

Anxiety took no second to answer the kiss, pressing closer and kissing back while putting his hands over Prince’s cheek, his body melting at the contact.


“Well, everything worked out in the end” Logic said, his arm around Morality’s waist as they watched them through a small crack on the door. Morality nodded, grinning, and turned to his date, who was now dressed up again in his usual attire.

“Let’s make dinner” he said, grabbing Logic’s hand and pulling him downstairs with a giggle.

Welp, Valentine’s Day for the win, he guessed.

No Vacancy

I’m willing to make a part two to this.

Moving was supposed to be a restart. It was supposed to be the beginning of a better life. Of a better mindset. But nothing had changed.

Will sat outside his new house as his father told the movers where to go and where to leave things. He kicked at the ground, trying to pinpoint where he was going wrong on his drawing. It just didn’t look right. Aggravated, he looked away from his sketchbook and swung idly against the tree swing the previous owners had left.

As he looked out at the street, he could feel the solemn, empty feeling in him. Ever since Momma had died at the hospital, it had left Will without any motivation to do anything. He couldn’t draw anymore. He didn’t pay attention in class anymore. His grades had slipped and he’d missed so much school, that he almost wasn’t able to get into his new one.

Dad was never one to talk through emotions. He liked to keep them to himself. Mom had told him that a long time ago. She’d said that when they were friends, she watched him get heartbroken by guys and girls alike, but he never talked about it. He always kept it to himself and played it off with playful smiles and jokes.

Even now, he wouldn’t mull over his pain. Not with Will at least. But Will heard him crying at night.

A car pulled up in the next door house and Will pulled himself from his thoughts. He ducked back into his sketchbook, touching up some of the lines and shading, hoping that the strange look would go away. He heard the slam of car doors and a few voices.

Curiosity got the best of him and he glanced up, surprised to see two pairs of eyes on him. A boy and a girl. Two other people were walking into the house. The two looking at him smiled, and he managed to smile back, nodding at them. There was a man walking into the house, and he glanced back, noting the moving van. The other girl beside him looked over too and waved.

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