A Hundred Lesser Faces: Fifteen
  • Section One {A Hundred Lesser Faces} what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh? :  [(One) (Two) (Three) (Four) (Five) (Six) (Seven)
  • Section Two {A Hundred More}, the aftermath of Claire and Jamie’s reunion, following their journey as they work to build a new life together [(Eight) (Nine) (Ten) (Eleven) (Twelve) (Thirteen) (Fourteen)]

Start of Section 3: {Begin and Tell} 

Several days later 

“Will you PLEASE be so kind as to explain,” I called as I let my skirts fall and tiptoed carefully back through the brush to where Jamie was holding the horses, “why it is we never have to stop for YOU to take a piss?”

“I’ve a twelve-gallon bladder,” he called back without missing a beat. “Had it made special for long rides.”

“HA bloody HA.” I drew up level with him, fumbling in my pocket for a bit of bread as he bent to tighten my horse’s girth strap. “Admit it: you’re an actual sorcerer.”

“Well, and If I were, I would hope I could magick wi’ more profitable stuff than piss.” He grinned at me over his shoulder, hair escaping his queue and hanging in his face. “I’ve been able to make water off the side of a horse since I was a boy, Sassenach.”

“What?” I sputtered, laughing through a mouthful of crumbs. “While still riding?”

“Tis a bit more difficult in breeks, ken, but wi’ a bit of careful wrangling, aye, it’s quite manageable.”

Wrangling, mm?” I hummed, imagining John Wayne, lasso in hand, facing off with a ferocious horned beast intent on wreaking havoc.  “How do you keep the wind from—” 

“A man must choose his timing wisely, to be sure,” Mr. Wayne himself said as he straightened. “Do ye no’ recall all the times I’ve let ye ride ahead this past week?” 

“So THAT’s what you’re doing! I always thought you were just after a pleasing view of my rear aspect,” I said, in mock-affront, giggling as I brushed off my hands and prepared to remount.

“Tis a most agreeable added benefit.” He touched my arm and placed a sweet, warm kiss in the tender spot where jaw met ear, sending warmth all the way down to my toes. 

“Here, lass, wait a moment,” he added abruptly a minute later, preventing me from stepping back up into the stirrup. He was fishing about in his sporran and came out with a handful of coins, which he pressed into my hand. 

I stared at it. “What’s this?”

“Money,” he called carelessly, walking around to his own horse.

I rolled my eyes at him over the saddle. “I can see that, darling, but why do I need it?” 

“For the inn. The turning for Broch Morda is just ahead.”

“Inn?” I repeated, dumbly. “….Aren’t we going straight to Lallybroch?”  

“No, we’re not.” 

“But—Hold the bloody phone,” I said, moving around my horses’s head to stand in front of him. “Ever since Inverness, haven’t we been talking about ‘leaving for Lallybroch,’ ‘getting close to Lallybroch’ and all that?”

“A generalization, on my part,” he shrugged, making ready to mount up, “I’m sorry if ye were misled.”

“Apparently I WAS,” I said pointedly, alarm bells starting to ring. Jamie was not a man to make careless omissions. I caught his sleeve as he made to swing up. “Jamie, wait—” 

“We’re not going to Lallybroch.” The finality in his tone said what the words did not.  

“You mean not at all?” My mouth had actually fallen open. “Why ever—oh…..Oh, for heaven’s sake.


His face was rigid with controlled feeling. “I’m no’ prepared to go knocking on the door and pretend as though all is well between us, Sassenach.”

“Well of course not!” I said, throwing up my free hand and letting my own tempests fly free, control be damned. “It isn’t all well, after what she did! But surely it’s better to go confront her and get it all out in the open! You’re not planning to shun her for the rest of your lives, after all.” 

“Am I not?” 

I was so stunned, I couldn’t immediately think of anything to say, and so just stood there, dismayed to see the mask of steel and spikes that had so suddenly hidden my playful Jamie of moments ago completely from view. 

He had been very quiet on the topic of Jenny in Inverness and on our ride, only getting a sad, almost confused look about him in the few times her name was spoken. We’d not talked about any specifics pertaining to Jenny, either of feeling or plan for the future, but from that mournful look—so utterly foreign to me, on Jamie’s features— I’d presumed that it was primarily hurt and betrayal with which he had been wrestling in his heart. The expression on his face now, though, told me that even if that had been the case, hot fury had since claimed dominance within him, bordering on sheer vengeance.

“Jamie, come now,” I said soothingly, deciding to try and bring things back into a rational sphere. “She’s your sister, whatever else she may be, and I know how much you love h—”

“She’s a woman,” he corrected slowly, his consonants sharp and fearsome as his gaze, who had enough hate in her heart to willfully see you and me consigned to misery apart for the rest of our days. I’ll no’ seek out reconciliation wi’ such a person.” 


“I’ll be on my way,” he said over me, “and you’ll stay at Broch Morda until I return.”

I nearly snarled ‘Oh, I WILL, will I?’ but settled for a, “Did it not cross your mind that I might want to mend things with Jenny?”

I honestly wasn’t sure that I had, before that moment. In fact, the entire way from Inverness, I’d used the long stretches of quiet to rehearse many a biting jab and condemnation to throw at the wicked woman’s feet when I saw her. That hot coal of anger had kept me warm and satisfied, justified in the knowledge that there would soon be reckoning, or so I’d assumed. There was nothing like a truly terrifying rage, though, in someone as large and dangerous as Jamie, to make one try to put aside their own vindictive glee and transmute calls for blood toward forgiveness.

From the look on his face, I honestly didn’t know what Jamie would do or say when next he saw his sister (surely he wouldn’t actually do her harm, but—), and that fact frightened me enough to have me grasping at any straws within reach. “I never thought of you as a petty person, Jamie,” I tried, “but this is—” 

“’Petty’?” His nostrils flared dangerously. “Are ye truly telling me, Sassenach,” he snarled, “that if things had been reversed—if one of your own family had tried to keep us from—”

“I don’t have any family apart from yours,” I snapped, but then quickly groaned and rubbed my temple, seeing that line of argument going nowhere. “It’s the here and now that we have to contend with, Jamie! Surely you know there’s wisdom in that.”

“I may ken it,” he admitted tightly, “but my mind’s made up.”

We were both standing tight-strung between the horses, holding onto our respective reins as though they could anchor us from further outbursts. 

Not a foolproof plan, evidently. 

“So where the hell are you supposedly running off to while I hide at the inn?” I blurted, that ‘until I return’ finally clicking into place.

He spoke tersely but at once. “To speak wi’ Laoghaire. Break the news and hammer out an understanding wi’ her until Ned can arrive to settle things before the law.”

Well…Yes, that made good sense, I supposed. 

Still, I was vexed enough to keep on the offensive, though I hated hearing the petulance in my voice. “All this time, you’ve been planning to just go off and leave me alone? Without even bothering to talk to me about it?”

“I am sorry for no’ being more clear about my intentions, but—” He was blinking hard and gritting his teeth. “Jesus, Claire, surely ye can understand that we canna be seen together in town, let alone let it be known that we’re sharing a room,” he hissed, telling me that he was just about as near the end of his rope as I was. “Risk the gossip getting back to Balriggan before I myself do?” He shook his head mightily. “You’ll go to the inn and wait there until I’ve gotten things in hand, and ye can greet Ned when he arrives, forbye. I’m sorry, but there’s no other way to see it all safely sett—”

“Of course there is, you brute of a man! Going to LALLYBROCH! Surely your family wouldn’t ever allow the gossip to—”


I fell silent, and could have cursed him for it. 

He let go the reins and slowly stepped forward, cupping one hand to my face. The touch itself was gentle, but his eyes were deadly serious, in no way threatening, but no less terrifying for it.  “I love you. With all my life and heart, I love you. Ye ken it to be so. But this is my sister; my marriage needing to be dissolved. I need ye to let me do things in the way I see fit, this time.”

Well, fuck you, too, I wanted to spit, but I gritted my teeth. “Fine.”

I realized too late that there had been a moment of soft pleading in his eyes as he spoke the last words. I watched in dismay as it vanished, leaving only hard coldness. Then his touch, too, was gone, and a minute later we were mounted, riding toward the crossroads in complete silence.

Damn you, Jamie Fraser, AND your wretched sister. And Damn you too, Laoghaire notFraser, while we’re at it. TWICE.  

I’d known moments like this would come creeping in between us, sooner or later—the perfectly natural clashes and disagreements of married people, those moments of misunderstanding from poor assumptions and hasty conclusions; of wholeheartedly wanting to chuck the other person into a ravine for being a stubborn arse. Of course, those moments were inevitable ; I’d known that from the beginning. I had just hoped they wouldn’t come so soon. 

Easy, though, Beauchamp. Take a breath. 

I obeyed, letting the sharp snap of the mid-morning wind brace my churning temper. 

This was a very unusual set of circumstances, I forced myself to keep remembering, with pressures of all kinds falling squarely on Jamie’s shoulders. I had, of course, had the advantage of months and months in which to prepare for our reunion, to set my affairs in order and rearrange my life with all loose ends tied. Jamie, though, had been taken completely and utterly unawares. It should be no surprise that it would be a bumpy journey, on his side, both logistically and emotionally. 

I took another deep breath, feeling some of the ire evaporating. While I still thought (knew!) going to Lallybroch first to face the 60-inch beast head-on was the best course of action, I supposed I could find it in my heart to support his choice and afford him some control over how to approach his own tangled web, the one he was unraveling for my sake.

I was opening my mouth to say something, a gentle word or reassurance, if not apology (I wasn’t prepared to be that magnanimous yet), but before I could, we were at the juncture, and Jamie was turning his horse toward the left fork, toward the unseen Balriggan. He jerked his head toward the right. “It’s no’ far to the inn, a half-hour at most. Introduce yourself to the keeper as Malcolm, if they ask for a name. “

I nodded.

“I’ll come as soon as I can, or else send word.”

He opened his mouth to say more, closed it, inclined his head, and was off.

I exhaled in a great whoosh as I watched him ride off with speed, frustrated beyond measure both at him and myself. Don’t let the sun go down on your anger, mm? We would have at least one sunset, likely many more, before this mess was settled between us, not to mention the great behemoth of Laoghaire’s shock and reaction to weather, and a widespread scandal to mitigate once the word good and truly spread. Yes, it would be a long many sunsets, together or apart. 

The impulse to go after him pulled tight and anxious in my belly—Go tell him you love him, you fool; wish him good luck in the dealings with Laoghaire; let him know you’re on his side—but fear and hurt won out, and I kicked up the horse toward the right, picking carefully over the rocks on the steeply-graded path.

We hadn’t climbed more than fifty yards when, without warning, an almighty screech rent the air. The horse was rearing beneath me practically before I could register the sound, let alone look to discover its source. I might have managed to keep my seat, but the horse was new, neither of us used to one another, and when she bucked, I went launching off over her right shoulder. 

It was only by providence that the trajectory landed me in the bracken and not against the boulder two feet away at the edge of the path, else I would have dislocated my shoulder or broken my collarbone for certain. It was my army training, though—twenty-five-or-more-years aged, but still apparently sharp—that made sure I tucked the shoulder and rolled rather than throwing out my arm.  Still, even without broken bones, the pain and impact of the landing was unbelievable. As I sat up, groaning, teeth-rattling shocks of pain were coursing up my spine and down to my stunned fingers and back. I curled the limp arm tight to my chest, trying to catch my breath, trying not to vomit from the pulsing lightning storm happening in my line of sight.

I heard a strangled sound, whipped my head around, and saw Jenny bloody Murray standing on the loop of the road above me, where I had been about to turn the horse before being thrown. 

She was wrapped in a traveling cloak, the mule she’d been riding completely forgotten behind her, as was the basket that lay on the road, contents scattered. She was staring down at me as though at a ghost, but one that she meant to do battle with to her own death. “Is it you, Claire?” she demanded, voice high and deadly-fierce as her brother’s with shaking energy; a blazing valkyrie ready to attack. “Tell me this moment, are ye real?” 

“Real enough for you to have gotten me chucked off a real horse, if you hadn’t fucking noticed!” I snarled, cradling my arm.

But damn her, the woman’s face completely fell and she burst into tears as she ran for me, sobbing, “Oh, Thank God, Claire!” 


Friday 15th September 2017

“Last order of business, Anthea,” says Mycroft with a small, reluctant sigh, placing his pen precisely along the centre of his notebook. He straightens his back, lifts his chin and clears his throat slightly.

“Sir.” Her voice is neutral, but he does not miss the tuck of the corner of her bottom lip, which denotes – he has learnt – intense curiosity.

“I shall need just over a week off.”

There is a long moment of total silence in the room, during which neither employer nor assistant seems to breathe.

“Yes, sir. When?” Anthea’s tone, relaxed to anyone who does not know her, makes Mycroft fold his hands on the edge of his desk.

“From Sunday 24th December until Tuesday 2nd January.”

The assistant takes a breath, and when she speaks again, there is a steely note of determination in her voice. “Very well, sir. And should I talk to the Commissioner about Detective Inspector Lestrade’s upcoming holidays?”

“If you would.”

She nods, and stands up, shutting the case of her iPad with a snap. “Thank you, Mr Holmes.”

As she closes the door softly behind her, Mycroft relaxes slightly. Even now, after nearly a year, revealing personal details, admitting to his private life at work, is hard. The habit of a lifetime, holding fast when so many of his other walls have crumbled.

Tuesday 2nd October 2017

Anthea puts her head around the door. “There is a matter –”

Mycroft glances up from his emails and sees her expression. “Come in,” he murmurs.

She closes the door behind her. “I have spoken to the Foundation regarding the New Year party.”

Mycroft stands up and crosses to the sideboard, his back to Anthea. He pours himself a glass of water. Something to do with his hands. “Yes?”

“They asked me to speak with you. To ask you to reconsider.”

Mycroft’s shoulders tense. Consciously, he relaxes them. “You told them that I would, of course, be sending my usual donation?”

“Of course, sir. They were adamant that I should speak with you again, despite my assurances that it would make no difference.”

“And it will not. Double the donation.”

A pause just a hair’s-breath longer than it might have been, and then, “yes, sir.”

“And the reservation?” asks Mycroft. “It has been confirmed?” He takes a sip of water, and walks towards the window.

“Yes, Mr Holmes. I received the confirmation yesterday.”

“Thank you, Anthea.”

The door closes with a discreet click.

Friday 27th October 2017

“I am sorry, Sir, but the Prime Minister has rung again, regarding the –”

Mycroft makes a dry little ah noise, and hangs his jacket over the back of his chair again. He reopens his laptop, light harshly blue in the gloom of his office. He sneaks a look at his watch – past ten. Text Gregory.

“I shall ring her now,” he says, calmly, picking up his Blackberry.

Anthea turns the lights back on for him as she leaves the room.

While the phone rings, he sends a text.

[22:09] My apologies, Gregory. I shall be a little longer at the office. MH

Wednesday 22nd November 2017

“Well then, Holmes,” says the Minister expansively, crossing his legs and slouching a little in his chair. He has grown in confidence, during their meeting.

Mycroft tolerates it, for now. His smile, his slightly-raised eyebrow, are politely inquiring.

“When’s the next meeting, then, next month? Week between Christmas and New Year? Do this at the club instead, get some drinks inside us while we hash things out?” the man’s voice is plummy, overfed and under-cautious.

“I regret,” says Mycroft blandly, “I shall not be available then.”

“Ah,” says the Minister, on a laugh. “Holiday?” he chuckles at his own joke. Mycroft’s unwavering stare sobers him, slowly. “You don’t take holidays.”


“Ah. Ha. I see.” The Minister sits up straight, and uncrosses his legs; there is a brief flit of unease across his thickened features. “Well. Week before that then.”

“If our secretaries could arrange it, that would be most convenient.”

“Oh – ah. ’F’course. Yes.”

They shake hands, briefly, before he leaves.

Saturday 23rd December 2017

Mycroft checks the time on his phone. 23:26. He draws on his navy coat, checks that his gloves are in his pocket, and slips his warm cashmere scarf around his neck.

He stops at Anthea’s desk. She looks up at him, calmly, and holds out both hands. Slowly, he puts his laptop and Blackberry into them. She lowers them to the desk in front of her, and folds her hands on top of them.

“Merry Christmas, sir.”

“And to you, Anthea,” he returns, flatly. He hesitates, briefly. “If there is anything –”

“Yes, Mr Holmes.”

“Do not hesitate to –”

“Of course not, sir.”

The absence of his briefcase in his hand, of his Blackberry in his coat pocket, is suddenly terribly heavy. He blinks, twice.

“The car is waiting downstairs, Mr Holmes.”

“Yes.” He straightens his back, and turns towards the lift. As he presses the button, he looks back. “You will find a token of my appreciation with your Christmas payslip.”

“Sir,” she says imperturbably.

He nods, and takes the lift.

Sunday 24th December 2017

It is ten past midnight by the time he opens the front door. He pushes off his shoes, and hangs up his coat and scarf.

“Gregory?” he calls, quietly. He may be asleep.

“Living room,” comes the reply.

Mycroft pauses in the door to the living room. Only the Christmas tree and the television light the room, golden and blue lights mixing. Greg grins at him from the sofa, dark eyes black in the low light, and Mycroft’s heart does its slow turn in his chest.

“Stayin’ there, gorgeous?” asks Greg, holding out his arms.

“Certainly not,” says Mycroft, crossing to the sofa. He sits, rather primly, next to Greg on the sofa. “What are you watching?”

“Oi,” grumbles Greg mock-crossly, poking his arm. “That’s no way to greet your extremely loving and very long-suffering boyfriend after you buggered off to work for about nineteen hours.”

Mycroft looks down at him, and finds it hard to breathe. He dips his head, and takes a gentle kiss. He cannot help smiling against Greg’s mouth.

Greg grins, too, and nudges their foreheads together. “Bed, yeah?” he whispers. “What time you got to be up and out?”

Mycroft hesitates. “Actually,” he says, after a moment, “I have tomorrow – today – off.”

Greg’s smile is wide and genuine. He slips his arm around Mycroft’s waist, pulling him close. “Brilliant,” he says, as he kisses Mycroft’s jaw.

“I –” adds Mycroft, and Greg pulls back to look at him. “We have this week as holiday,” says Mycroft, somewhat diffidently.

Greg’s fingers tighten on Mycroft’s waist, but he looks a little confused. “What?”

Suddenly, Mycroft’s insides curl shyly. It was a mistake to believe that this would make a good present.

He clears his throat. “Until the second of January,” he says quietly, eyes fixed on the pattern of the blanket under which Greg has been curled.

“Off work entirely?” asks Greg, sounding nonplussed.

“Yes,” says Mycroft, simply, still not looking up. The breath is crushed out of him as Greg grabs him and pulls him down, on top of him on the sofa.

“Gorgeous, you’re kidding,” says Greg, dark eyes soft and deep.

Mycroft half-shakes his head. “I assure you not.”

Greg’s hands are soft and strong on his face, in his hair. “How the bloody hell’d’you manage that, mm?” he murmurs against Mycroft’s lips, kissing and biting softly. “You’re a miracle worker.”

“Anthea is a miracle worker,” murmurs Mycroft, chasing another kiss. “You should thank her.”

“I’ll thank you first,” grins Greg, nipping Mycroft’s bottom lip. “Mm?”

Mycroft tries to quash his own smile. “If you insist.”

“I can think of a few ways,” whispers Greg. He runs a hand through Mycroft’s hair. “You must have your laptop though, right?” he asks, in a more normal tone. “Just in case? Work phone?”

Mycroft shakes his head. “Anthea has them.”

Greg raises his eyebrows.

Mycroft makes an inquiring noise.

“Christ.” Greg laughs, and rubs his eyes with one hand. “Just – actually a bit scared. Of nuclear meltdown or something.”

Mycroft tucks the corners of his mouth in. “Gregory.”

Greg chuckles, dark eyes sparkling. “Darlin’,” he murmurs, thumb stroking Mycroft’s cheekbone. “My genius.” He pulls Mycroft down, settles him along his side. “What’re we going to do with all that time, hmm?”

anonymous asked:

we’re both in gryffindor tower and everyone is asleep except us, but it’s thunderstorming and i never noticed how loud thunder is up in this tower, haha, i’m a little freaked out, would you mind if i just sat in your bed with you? just until it’s over? absolutely no homo? (Either stucky or winter iron please?)

The thunder keeps Steve awake.

Now, he’s not afraid of thunder; hasn’t been since he was a kid and his mother sat him down and explained all of the science behind thunder, and promised him that he’d be safe as long as he was inside and paying attention.

But it doesn’t mean that the thunder won’t keep him from falling asleep.

Honestly, he’s had a little trouble sleeping since he got to Hogwarts three nights ago. He’s eleven — practically an adult — and he shouldn’t be kept awake by the aching feeling in the pit of his stomach that he doesn’t belong here, that his parents were muggles and that he’s somehow less than the other boys in the dorm.

As if on ominous cue, there’s a huge burst of thunder.

He hears a whimper from one of the other beds, and something that sounds like someone breathing hard, maybe crying.

Steve’s mom told him a lot of things growing up. One such thing was that you should never let someone who is in pain know that they’re alone.

Steve quietly slips out of bed and tiptoes around the room, trying to figure out which bed the crying is coming from. There’s another loud crack of thunder, and another whimper, and Steve can hear that the person crying is…

Bucky Barnes?

He pauses, standing in front of the canopy of Bucky Barnes’ bed. It’s definitely coming from there, but it seem surprising. Even though they’ve only been at Hogwarts for a few days, Bucky already has a lot of friends. He’s got a great, big smile and a knack with a broomstick. During their first class Professor Flitwick complimented his charms work. Rumor is that he’s from an old bloodline and is as pureblooded as they come. It surprises Steve that this kid is sitting in his bed crying over something as silly as a thunderstorm.

But he is crying.

Steve sighs, knowing what he has to do.

He moves closer to the opening of the curtain. “Bucky?” he asks quietly.

He can hear Bucky clear his throat. “Yes?” he says in a croaking voice a few seconds later.

“Can I come in?” Steve asks.

There’s a pause. “Why?” Bucky asks.

“Everyone else is asleep and I’m bored,” Steve lies.

“You’re… bored?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“Fine,” Bucky says, “but keep the light off.”

“I don’t have a flashlight,” Steve says, pulling open the curtains and climbing into Bucky’s bed.

“What’s a flashlight?” Bucky asks.

Steve levels him with a look. “You’ve been around for eleven years and you don’t know what a flashlight is?” he asks.

Bucky shakes his head. Steve can just make out the outline of his body in the darkness, but it’s not hard to tell that he’s been crying. The streaks of tears on his cheeks shine a little from the little light in the room, and he’s still sniffing a bit. Every so often he reaches up to brush off his cheeks. Steve doesn’t say a word about any of it.

“I haven’t been in the muggle world much,” Bucky says.

“It’s not so bad,” he says. “We have flashlights.”

“I still don’t know what a flashlight is,” Bucky says, a little frustrated. Then he adds, “And you’re a wizard. You’r not a muggle.”

“I grew up with muggles,” Steve says before realizing his mistake. People have told him that not everyone is okay with wizards who have muggle parents like Steve. A lot of the people who aren’t okay with it are purebloods like Bucky.

“But you’re a wizard,” Bucky says. “Nothing wrong with muggles, but you’re one of us, even if we don’t have flashlights.”

“Flashlights are little tubes that have a lightbulb in one end that shines light. Usually they’re powered with batteries,” Steve says, not realizing how hard it can be to describe a flashlight, even though he’s used one a hundred times.

Bucky pauses. “So, it’s a muggle ‘lumos’?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

“Huh,” Bucky says.

There’s another crack of thunder and Bucky jumps. He practically jumps out of the bed, he’s so surprised. And he makes just the quietest of scared sounds.

“Scary,” Steve says.

“Mm-hmm,” Bucky manages to say.

“You know, my mom explained the science of lightning to me once,” Steve says. “You wanna hear it?”

“The science?” Bucky asks.

“Like, why it happens and why it’s not as bad as it sounds or looks. Thunder and lightning actually do some good things. It helps the plants grow.”

“You can tell me,” Bucky says in a quiet voice.

“Alright,” Steve says, “so first, lightning comes from…”

— —

Eventually, Bucky nods off while Steve talks.

— —

Fifteen years later, Steve slips into bed. Bucky is under the covers already and not moving, though Steve’s pretty sure that he’s not asleep with the storm raging outside. It had been a long day at the Ministry and he doesn’t bother even getting into pajamas before he wraps himself around Bucky. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Bucky says in a small voice. Bucky still hates thunderstorms, even after all this time. He deals a little better than he did as a kid, but when he’s home with Steve, he doesn’t put on a brave face. “How was your day?”

“Boring,” Steve says, pulling the blankets over their heads like they’re in a tent. He pulls out his wand and lights it up. “I’m happy to see you,” he adds, smiling.

“Not as happy as I am to see you,” Bucky says with a self-deprecating snort.

“Want me to tell you about the science?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods. “If you don’t mind,” he says.

Steve leans forward and presses a lingering kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “Not at all,” he says before he begins telling the same stories his mom did all those years ago.

  • <p> <b>Seven:</b> Nice pants Yoosung!<p/><b>Yoosung:</b> Thanks, they were 50% off!<p/><b>Seven:</b> I'd like 'em 100% off ;)<p/><b>Yoosung:</b> What are you talking about?? The store can't give out free stuff!!<p/><b>Seven:</b> What? No I-<p/><b>Yoosung:</b> That's terrible business management Seven!!<p/></p>
Full Time Hero - Rafael Barba, ft Sonny Carisi

Rafael Barba x Reader, Ft. Sonny Carisi
Summary: Rafael is in a pissy mood when a case isn’t going in the direction he wanted. When the reader tries to be helpful, he is agitated and takes his stress out on her. Leaving them with unspoken words in the air.

“Good morning, sweetie. I have already made coffee for you. It’s on the table.” She greeted Rafael with a smile and a kiss on the lips. He barely offered a smile, but headed straight for the coffee.

“I’m almost done with the egg sandwich. So don’t leave yet.” She said, over her shoulder.

Rafael didn’t answer, his mind was too occupied with the proceeding of the case. He kept coming up with scenarios where he could screw up or be screwed over. With the pressure from his boss and the case being time sensitive, he couldn’t think of anything else. All he needed was as much caffeine as he could get.

“Did you hear what I said?” She asked.

Her back was facing him, so she didn’t catch the eye roll. She was too busy trying to get the sandwich ready so he could eat on the way. He was in a foul mood due to sleep deprivation, it wasn’t anything in the tone she spoke. In fact, she was trying to be helpful.

Keep reading

Lost Part 1

He usually didn’t go out at night. But lately he’s been having some problems staying in the dorm. He felt suffocated and confined so he had to get some fresh air. He didn’t have a mask or a hoodie on like he usually did when he went out because his decision to take a walk was a little last minute. And now, he felt stupid for walking out so suddenly, without anything. 

He purposely left his phone at the dorm just in case his manager called him or any of the members. He would only be out for a little while, anyways.  

But the streets were a little more crowded than they usually were at this time of night. Because of that, he didn’t walk down the normal streets he walks on. The more he walked on unfamiliar territory, the more crowded it became. 

More and more people kept doing double takes when he walked past. He decided it was time to go back home. Until he realized he didn’t know where he was. He was lost, in public, without a phone.

Lost in his realization of the situation, he just stood there. Frozen. Unsure of what to do. That’s when people started to notice him. 

“Wait, is that…?”


“That’s Leo, right??”

The street was very crowded now. He looked around for somewhere to hide but everywhere was brightly lit up. People around him started to get closer and closer. He knew he had to leave before things got out of hand. 

He pushed through the group of people and walked into a building without looking back. Some people trickled in behind him but he didn’t know where he was. He had to look around at his surroundings. But as soon as he stopped, he could feel all the eyes on him. Everyone started talking over one another, asking for pictures and some were already filming without asking. 

He ran past them to get away but they ran after him. He had been in some situations like this before but never alone. He was panicking. He was a little ahead of the crowd following him so he slowed down, trying to figure out where to go. That’s when he felt a hand grab his wrist and pull him to the side.

He was pulled behind the person who grabbed him. She was frantically pressing a button in front of her. Still confused on his whereabouts, he looked around and finally realized he was in an elevator. The doors closed as soon as he saw one of the girls that had been chasing him pouting at the fact that she didn’t make it in time. 

“Wow, your fans are no joke. Are they always like that?” She looked up at him with pity in her eyes. She had he hair tied up in a high, but loose, ponytail with eye makeup that showcased how big her eyes were. She wasn’t wearing anything fancy, just jeans and a shirt just tight enough to see her slim figure. Maybe it was because she had just saved him, but she was so pretty. 

“Uh, no. Not always.” he said softly. 

“You stick out in a crowd… did you know that?” She asked as she looked up and down at his attire. Or rather, lack thereof. He was just wearing a t-shirt and jeans. No mask, no hat, nothing. “Don’t idols usually hide themselves better than this?”

She smiled as she looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes. As he realized she was teasing him, he gave her a slight grin. But he broke his gaze on her when he heard the sound of the elevator. Then, it hit him. What was he gonna do now? He had nothing. 

“I’m sorry, but do you think I can use your phone?” He tried not to sound desperate but even he could hear his own voice. He needed a phone right now more than ever.

“Sure. But it’s in my apartment. I was just coming down to take out the trash.” she said as she walked out of the elevator. He followed her out of the elevator and down the hall. Walking a little ways towards the end of the hall, she finally reached out for the keypad to punch in the code. But then, she suddenly stopped. 

“Uhh..I wasn’t expecting company.. Sorry.. It’s pretty messy.” she said with a nervous laugh. 

“No, it’s okay..” he said softly as he waved his hands in protest. 

With that, she opened the door. She gestured her hand for him to go in first. He stepped in and immediately noticed how clean everything was. Everything was put away in its place and lined up to how it was supposed to be. But then he smelled something amazing. He felt his stomach growl, reminding him that he had not eaten since morning. He stood there and waited for her to lead the way, not wanting to intrude. She walked past him and they walked down the small hallway towards the living room. Her apartment was small but had a cozy feel to it. It was dim with a few photos on the walls as to not make it feel crowded, one candle lit to ft the ambiance, and food cooking on the stove.

“Make yourself at home. My phone’s in the room.” she said as she walked towards the bedroom door. Unknowingly, he made his way to the kitchen. His stomach was controlling him, apparently. He looked over the pot on the stove, unconsciously taking a big whiff. It smelled so good. His stomach made a noise he didn’t know it could and he looked down at it, rubbing it with his hand. 

“Wow, that was loud.” She laughed. “Sit.” She pointed to the dinning table. “Here.” Extending her arm, she handed you her phone. 

“Thank you..” He accepted it gratefully. He dialed his own number, hoping one of the members would answer since he didn’t know anyone else’s. 

“Hey. It’s me.”
Taekwoon-ah~ where are you? Why’d you leave your phone here!” N whined over the phone.
“I’ll send you the address. Tell manager hyung to pick me up.” he said and abruptly ended the call. 

She laughed to herself, hearing the short exchange between the two while stirring the pot over the stove. 

“Thank you.” he said handing her back the phone. 

“Sure. You should eat before you go.” She said as she put down a plate in front of him. There was no way he could refuse. It looked so delicious and smelled even better than before. He looked at her and simply nodded, accepting the food. 

“Thank you.” he mumbled while taking the chopsticks into his hand. She watched him eat, thankful he obviously liked it. She took a bite and was impressed with herself. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him.

“Wow. It’s pretty good, isn’t it?” she asked proudly. 

“Mm.” he managed to say with his mouth full. 

He was the first one to finish, followed shortly after her. They both awkwardly sat there in silence for a little while. She looked up at him, trying to read his thoughts. He was very quiet, only speaking when necessary. And the more quiet he was, the more curious she became. 

“Are you usually this quiet?” she asked. He looked up at her, surprised and gave the tiniest smirk. He only nodded his head up and down. She looked down at her fidgety hands, trying to think of questions that he would feel comfortable answering. 

“So why are you out tonight? Especially not even bothering to hide yourself.” He just stared at her.

“….should I guess?” he grinned in response, looking down at his lap. 

“Mmm…did you get separated from your members?” she asked, studying his facial expressions carefully. He simply kept grinning. She guessed she wasn’t on the right track. 

“Umm…oh! Were you on a date??” She exclaimed with her eyebrows raised. he looked up at her, still smiling, only with his eyebrows furrowed and head shaking. 

“Well then, I give up. And I doubt you’re gonna tell me, right?” she said defeated. For the first time, she saw him smile. He was looking down at his lap, but she saw it clearly. His full white teeth came into view and his eyes became smaller. It was only for a second but immediately became infatuated with him. She stared at him in a daze, finally realizing why fans were the way they were around idols. Suddenly, her phone started vibrating on the table, catching both of their attention. It was a number she didn’t have saved in her phone. She hesitated for a moment but then answered the phone. 

Ummmmm, is Leo there?
She looked up at him and handed him the phone. He put the phone up to his ear, saying hello.
Taekwoon-ah! Was that a girl? Who was that? Where are you??” N shouted loudly on the phone. She could clearly hear him. She looked at Leo with a blank expression, making him feel a little embarrassed about his friend. He stood up from the table and made his way towards the living room, speaking quieter than before. 
“Is manager-hyung here?” 
Oh. Leo-ah. That’s why I was calling. He can’t come out tonight. He’s out with the CEO tonight, remember?” That’s right. Leo had forgotten he was meeting with their CEO for VIXX to have a wold tour. He would be with him all night trying to persuade him. 
What happened? Why are you stuck there? Can’t you come back on your own?
“I’ll try to figure something out. Bye.”

He ended the call and turned around to see her in the kitchen cleaning the dishes. He gazed at her from behind, admiring her. The way her hair pulled up messily with a few strands sticking out, and how petite her shoulders were, and how amazing her figure was. She wasn’t terrible skinny but she did have some meat on her in all the right places. Once he caught himself looking at her in this kind of way, he shook his head slightly, snapping back to reality. He walked back to the kitchen with loud footsteps to make his presence known. She looked up from the sink and smiled. 

“Are they here for you?” she asked, excited for him. He avoided her eyes, looking down and rubbing his neck nervously. He didn’t know what to do or say. He didn’t want to invite himself over, but it was looking like it was the only option right now. 

“My manager can’t make it tonight.. I’ll have to try to find a back door or something..” he said, as if talking to himself. 

“Oh… do you think you’ll be okay?..” she asked. He shrugged his shoulders answering her question. He honestly didn’t know if he’d be okay. He knew better than anyone that his fans would be at every door the building had. He knew if he left that building, he’s be in trouble. He sighed heavily and gathered up all the courage he had. 

“Can I stay here for the night?”


Another chapter in a one-shot, whaaa?? As always, thanks to the fantastically brilliant @elanev91 for putting up with my ceaseless questions and long-ass comments. 
It’s Harry+Ginny, of fucking course. Ao3 and

Ginny is watching Harry sleep. It isn’t creepy; she had just been asleep a few minutes ago, but now she isn’t, so she is watching him sleep. The dormitory is quiet, though bright sunlight is shining in through the windows. The room is deserted, and even as Ginny’s stomach growls, she wants only to lie here in Harry’s bed and watch him sleep.

The expression “sleeps like the dead” comes to mind, but since Ginny had, just yesterday, seen Harry actually dead, or apparently dead, she pushes the phrase from her mind. That had been perhaps the worst moment yesterday, seeing Harry in Hagrid’s arms. Well, the worst moment besides going into the Great Hall and finding her family gathered around Fred’s body. Seeing her brother dead, seeing his twin retch in agony… that was the worst part of yesterday. At least Harry had come back to life, back to her.

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Gotta Be Faster

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: An injury during a hunt leaves you needing some medical attention

A/N: This idea came to me after my own painful trip to the dentist   x.x

Originally posted by cggally

“Ugh” you groaned as you held an ice pack to the side of your face. The pain had subsided a bit after some Advil and ice, but the thing about a crowbar to the face was it didn’t quiet easily. You were exhausted. The boys and yourself hadn’t slept in over 24 hours since the whole ordeal.

Hunting the demon was easy, it was the struggle that got you. You had managed to dodge a few thrown objects while Dean snuck up on it from behind, but it was the crowbar that finally made contact. With your jaw. You moaned on the floor clutching your face as Dean stabbed the thing with the demon blade, ending the fight in an instant. He rushed over to you, his face full of panic and worry. “Mm oh-kay…” you managed to mumble as you spat blood from your mouth. “Son of a bitch” he said, inspecting the damage. You cried out in pain as he touched your face, more of the all-too-familiar taste of blood filling your mouth. Dean helped you up and led you out of the decrepit house the demon had been hiding away in. Sam was out front with Baby, his eyes widening at the sight of the two of you. “What the hell happened?!” Sam exclaimed, rushing to your side in only a few long strides. “A crowbar that’s what happened. Dammit I should have been more careful” Dean said, shaking his head at himself. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. How bad is it?” Sam said, leaning down to take a look. Tears ran down your face as you swallowed a bit more blood. Sam sighed as he and Dean exchanged worried looks. After a small discussion it was decided it was hospital time, despite your objections (mm fne rhlly). It turned out you had a few broken teeth and a fractured jaw, leading you straight to a local oral surgeon. With a lot of whining and squeezing of Dean’s hand, your teeth were fixed. Now, a few long hours later, you were finally back at the motel.

“Here sweetheart” Dean said as he brought over a cup of your favorite Gatorade with a straw for you to sip. He held it to you as you carefully drank, putting it on the bedside table when you were done. He kissed your forehead and sat next to you, a look of guilt on his face. “Babe it’s alright” you said with a weak smile. “Gotta be faster next time” Sam said with a laugh as he flipped through channels from his own bed. “We’ll practice dodging crowbars with you later smartass.” Dean said with a roll of his eyes as his hand found yours with a squeeze.

You noticed Dean had a smirk on his face that he wasn’t hiding very well and you looked at him confused. “What?” You asked, your words slightly slurred due to half your face still being numb. “Nothing nothing just…” He paused before laughing and putting his other hand to your swollen face. “You just look like a chipmunk” he said with a grin and you could hear Sam laugh from his side of the room. “Jerk!” you said with a pout, giving him a little push. “Come here!” you said in a huff as you yanked him closer to sit against the headboard next to you. You forcefully cuddled yourself into his strong arms, your head on his shoulder. He ran his fingers gently through your hair as you looked up, still pouting, into his gorgeous green eyes. “Can we watch Jurassic Park tonight?” you asked. Sam groaned with a barely audible “not again” as Dean smiled and replied, “whatever you want, princess.”


Did you guys see the medley in the inspiration MM your? Omg the management is stepping out if their game!! The animation and the lighting syncroniced with the choreography looks so neat! This quality is what MM deserves!!            

anonymous asked:

Washing the others hair and wolfstar or jily

Sirius wrinkled his nose and held open the door. “Eugh, it smells like /virtue/ in here.”

It was a testament to how badly Remus must be feeling that he couldn’t muster the energy to crack a pity-smile or even an eye roll. He just shuffled in after him and sat down heavily on the lip of the sunken tub. The prefects bathroom was deserted at 2:30 in the morning and had that slightly foreboding feeling bathrooms get at night when it’s quiet enough to hear the pipes pinging quietly to one another. It smelled like humid air and old, faint, overlapping perfumes. Sirius had, of course, snuck in here before–any place he shouldn’t be is a place he had to be–but now he was in here with an actual prefect. Did that make it more or less exciting? Speaking of…

“Are you falling asleep over there?”

Remus was sagging forward so much Sirius couldn’t even see his head, just the hunched curvature of his back. “Yes,” he muttered, not moving.

Sirius heaved a melodramatic sigh at being prodded but secretly studied him with worry. The extra responsibilities of prefect that had begun at the start of this year, him catching the ridiculous run of fever that had spread through the school, stressing already about the impending O.W.L.S. had all coalesced into a particularly bad transformation this month. Usually he was in the Hospital Wing for the morning after, at most, to take care of the major, glaring injuries, though he often took the rest of the day off to sleep. 

Today, though, he had had to stay until dinner and came back dead-eyed and sunken looking. It was as he had fallen asleep curled up in front of the fire while the rest of them attempted homework that Sirius saw that Madame Pomfrey had missed a spot. A small mat in the back of his hair had stiffened into a cowlick. It would have been adorable if Sirius hadn’t known it was blood.

So, against frighteningly little protest–he would have thought it would be more fun that Remus couldn’t bring himself to argue–he had hauled them both here in the dead of Friday night for some forcible relaxation. He was going to relax, dammit, if Sirius had to drown him in bubbles to do it.  He marched over and began to twist every nozzle before hastily narrowing it down to just one stream of light, translucent green when Remus gave a nauseated moan of protest at the aromatic assault. When Sirius was satisfied this water wouldn’t do anything more offensive than produce a meek smell of chamomile and gold sparkles, he began to putter about with purpose. 

He locked the door, made a mountain of towels and robes next to Remus (he blinked owlishly at them),  briskly stripped both of them down, and upended Remus into the steaming water. Er…gently. He wasn’t aspirating, and that’s what mattered, right? Sirius managed to get them both situated with absolutely no help from Remus, thank you very much, maneuvering him about like a lifesized, slightly buoyant mannequin. Remus was up to his chin, now, seated on a lower step, and Sirius resisted his innate urge to dunk him under. They peered at each other for a few long moments, not quite sure what the other wanted. Sirius ventured, “How are you feeling?”


Remus blinked a few times, glanced around and then up at his boyfriend’s hopeful, tense face and hazarded, “Er…warm?” In a rusty voice.

For whatever reason, this seemed to satisfy him. He reached out and spun Remus while pulling him back against the step and himself. Remus was just about to try mustering enough strength to warn Sirius that if he tried anything lewd, he would make sure to fall asleep in the middle of it, when something cold smeared over the side of his scalp. He yelped– alright, it was more of a strangled, despairing squeak. 

“Whoops, sorry,” came from above him, there was a rustling and a mutter and when the hands came back, whatever it was–shampoo?–was delightfully warm and tingly. 

It took a few moments of smushing action going on in his hair before he determined– “Are you…washing my hair?“ 

The hands paused. “Is that alright?” Sirius asked, cautiously. 

Since he was definitely mourning the loss of the smushing, Remus supposed it was. “Mm. Lil’ slower…?” He managed to slur. 

The hands resumed, obeying, and resolved themselves into individual fingertips pressing gently when he closed his eyes, which he didn’t remember doing. 


He thought he answered. Couldn’t be sure–he grunted or something, right?–when gentle hand caught him around his forehead, that was drooping alarmingly close to the water, apparently. It pulled his head back to rest against Sirius’ chest, then dutifully went back up to his hair. The dual warmth of bath and boy seemed to be slowly seeping down toward his bones where Madame Pomfrey’s magic never seemed quite able to reach. He could feel each muscle fiber slowly unwinding. He could feel each blood-logged brain pulse slow. He could feel each neural pathway dull.

Yes. Good.

The Day After (fratboy!Ethan x Reader)

Summary: You wake up the day after a huge frat party in a bedroom you don’t recognize with no memory of last nights antics at all. Turns out you ended up in Ethan’s room.

Word Count: 2,926

A/N: This is kind of a part 2 of Sigma Chi Boy but with Ethan and another “universe” I guess. I just wanted to write fratboy!Ethan too. Enjoy! Also, request anything, my ask is open! x

The distinct sound of a door slamming woke you up from your much needed sleep. You jerked awake, your eyes opening up automatically only for you to clench them closed.

“Fuck,” You swore, hissing under your breath as your head started pounding. Your whole body was sore, eyes burning under your lids from the brightness of them room and suddenly a wave of nausea hit you. What the hell happened last night? Your hands reached up for your tousled hair, wincing at the soreness.

For how long you laid there, you didn’t know. When you felt like you could sit up without wanting to vomit all over the place, you did just that, trying not to contort your face in pain too much because you found that the headache only increased while doing so. You peeked an eye open, taking in your surroundings and feeling confusion settle when you didn’t recognize the room nor the bed you were in. Blue walls, posters were pinned to the wall and was that… posters of hamsters? Where the hell have you ended up?

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Ferid & Crowley (Track 5)
Owari no Seraph
Ferid & Crowley (Track 5)

Translation of the Ferid and Crowley part of Track 5 from the Owari no Seraph drama CD. It’s everything that I hoped for and more. *_*;;;;

Thanks to ichigohaatsu for the help on the parts that gave me trouble!! :)

Ferid: Weeell then, it’s almost time for Mika-kun to come. I’m looking forward to it. Drinking human blood directly is the most delicious.

(door opens)

Ferid: Oh, he’s here.

Crowley: Hey Ferid-kun. Long time no see.

Ferid: Eh? It’s Crowley-kun? Why the sudden visit? I didn’t call for you.

Crowley: You did. It’s because I heard that you called for me that I came all the way here.

Ferid: Heh? Is that so. Then, thanks for your hard work. And…?

Crowley: “And”? That’s why I said you called for me.

Ferid: Ah I see. I called for you. I feel like there was something I needed you for.

Crowley: Could it be…you forgot?

Ferid: No no no, I didn’t forget. I remember! It’s that! I suddenly wanted to see your face.

Crowley: That kind of thing is impossible.

Ferid: It’s possible. I wanted to see your disgusted face just as you said “That kind of thing is impossible”.

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hi babes!! anyone, whoever’s reading this?? lol, okay. so, i bet you’ve noticed i’ve been a bit…absent lately, and, yeah, well, i have been.

maybe i’ve been a bit sad about what happened so i tried to, just, turn it off i guess for a little. and then there were these, i’m sorry to say, dumbasses who just posted these “idols that may have depression” and just…no. you cannot know, there is no way to know. anyone may be depressed and that’s something serious and not something to be thrown around so lightly like your little “who may be next” list. that’s not right.

firstly because there is no way you could know—it could be them, it could be anyone. and i get why you might do this to “alert” people to, i don’t know, treat them better? but why would you do it just to these idols who “may” be depressed and not, you know, everyone because everyone deserves to be treated as someone valuable because, really, they all are. not because they’re idols but because they’re humans?

and, now, i don’t know if i’m making any sense but now there’s no stopping so here it is: i was scared. yes, these dumb posts got to me because so many of these idols they mentioned are people i look up to and actually care about and i was afraid. what happened recently somehow affected me; i really didn’t know much about him but i simply felt so sad because he was human. and because, though i had not realized it much before, i cared about him too. and, let me repeat myself, not because he was an idol but because he was human. shouldn’t we, as humans, care about each other like that?

yes, maybe i’m being too sensitive, and maybe i was a bit triggered too because they mentioned someone from exo up in that list. now, that really scared me. exo—i always saw them as something safe. their music was safe, their smile was safe, their image of sun, moon, and stars was safe. i would feel down, but they would somehow lift me up, you know? there’s always that little something that makes you feel better in every sense of the way—hot coffee, a warm blanket, a good book. exo was that little something for me.

but then i realized, no, i remembered—because i knew, alright—they were just people. just humans. like me, like you. they didn’t know they were that little something, maybe they didn’t even try to be. maybe that’s why i cared about them so much. but maybe that’s also why i was more, say, “scared”.

i, honestly, dislike having to depend on others, and maybe i thought i would end up depending on them? heck, i didn’t want to be that fangirl who “wouldn’t live without them” or “wouldn’t know how to live if something happened to them”. so i realized that, inevitably, i cared too much about them. so i wanted it to stop.

and maybe that’s why i haven’t uploaded anything in a while, i’ve been conflicted with the most stupidest thing because i’m sensitive…and that’s okay. i guess i need to live with it and that’s okay; i just needed time—time to, i don’t know, step away from the gravitational pull that exo can be sometimes.

and then i felt worst.

(now, bear with me, for i’m the most dramatic hoe to step on earth.)

because i thought—and it’s the stupidest thing to think about, really—and what if they were my friends? like, my actual friends. i wouldn’t leave them. not when people might think they’re depressed or shit and not when they are going through what they’re going. that would be the last thing i should do.

but then i thought, do i really make a difference? one in millions, what do they care?

and maybe they do, and maybe they don’t but i do. it’s not the right thing to do. to leave them right now, it’s not. not because they’re idols, not because i’ve come to care so goddamn much about them, but, again, because they’re humans. and because they shouldn’t be left alone, not even when they have millions, and because they shouldn’t forget that i’m still here. because, whether they know me or not, i’m still here. and i will be.


i guess, that became a rant, huh. my first rant, oh my god, somebody give me a fuckin cookie. so, i think that’s my way of saying that i need a bit more of time to figure out this mess before fully coming back. cause exo, really, gives me so much inspo and i itch to write. so hopefully i’ll be back by christmas with my idiotic posts?? and then maybe some writing because a barista au needs to happen?? but, for now, i’ll be a bit gone so i will apologize.

if you guys need some time off or need to get your mind out of things, do it. if you need to heal, do it. just, please be safe, alright? i know i don’t say this much, but you can talk to me if you need to, so don’t hesitate.

now, i’ll be off. it’s late and i’ve got a test tomorrow, i cry. goodbye to whoever read this all, lmao, and take care, sweetheart. <3

anonymous asked:

15 ladrien?

Hope We Don’t Get Caught Kiss - Ladrien

This was so much fun to write! I kind of went in the direction of “I hope you don’t get us caught while I tease you” trope, but it’s kind of along the lines of hope we don’t get caught. Hope you enjoy!

“Adrien…” Her voice was barely more than a sigh against his neck, but it still sent shivers racing down his spine.

“Please,” he whispered into the soft skin of her jaw. “Say my name again.”

“Adrien,” she murmured, nudging his cheek and turning to catch his lips in another deep kiss. His lips were already tingling with the aftermath of her first, bruising kiss, but Adrien couldn’t complain. How could he? He was being kissed by Ladybug.

She brushed a thumb over his cheekbone, gently parting his lips with her tongue and delicately tasting him. He melted into her, resting his hands on her hips. Ladybug’s head was swimming, drunk on the sight, smell, and sensation of Adrien all around her. She sank in closer, the warmth radiating from him nearly searing her through her thin suit.

She dragged her fingers over his scalp, eagerly swallowing his soft moans as she tugged him closer. His response to her still amazed her. The way she could reduce him to a blushing, begging mess was beyond empowering. It was intoxicating.

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eiswolfzero  asked:

prompt - a fight has been going on for too long and Flashs metabolism has been acting up lately anyway causing his body to give out on him. Of course Bats is there. Would love you forever? <3

theres a lot of stuff i wanted to do with this and i think im going to come back to this a lot when i get a chance but i hope this is okay! it kind of got away from me? thank you so much for the prompt and i read your tags when you reblog and they make me so happy!!!

“Eat something,” Batman remarked gruffly as they all entered the station. Flash rolled his eyes, pulling off his hood and looking over as the other man sat down in the chair facing the monitors.

“Yeah, mom,” Wally responded with a sigh before yawning and proving Bruce’s point. Bruce made a noise that sounded like a snort, and he heard Clark chuckle from behind them. Wally puffed out his cheeks as he headed towards the dining room.

An alarm went off behind them then, blaring from the monitor just Wally pulled out some leftover pizza from their conference the night before.

“We have to head out,” called Clark from the other room. Wally made a whining noise and sandwiched two slices before stuffing them in his mouth. He looked at the other four he’d intended on eating. Sighing, he shut the fridge door, turning back towards the hall and focused on chewing.

Hopefully this didn’t take too long.

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