PROMPT:
“Cullrian Modern AU Cullen and Dorian are seated next to each are in the same booth on a train and get to know each other romantically.”

Cullen is a police officer in the city of Boston and is taking a train ride to his hometown to inform his family that is he not only getting a divorce from his lovely wife, but that he’s also gay.

Dorian, Italian-American and resident New Yorker, shares the cabin with him, and convinces Cullen that the world isn’t ending just because his life didn’t turn out how expected it to.

Also, Dorian is a pervert.

anonymous asked:

Oh! This looks fun! How about, both Apocalypse and Shortened lifespan KHR with Tsuna and co.? With like Tsuna being told he's supposed to sacrifice himself for both his family and the world?

Okay, my muse completely died midway through this prompt, and I’d usually try to power through, but I’ve been stuck on this one for ages and I’m not getting anywhere so I’m just going to end it with the apocalypse prompt.  Basically, end game was going to be Tsuna being approached by Kawahira about how the jars aren’t working properly, and Tsuna would sacrifice himself to restore the world, and everyone may or may not forget him in the restored world, but I couldn’t get that far, so a drabble on KHR apocalypse is all you’re going to get.

AO3 link is here.

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bekkachaos asked:

Ian x Mickey & 43 (:

43. “YOU DID WHAT?!”

  oh god, my immediate thought was “i did a porno” and i had to spend some time talking myself out of it because i’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.


anyway, onto the fic! i’ve been told that drabbles are supposed to be short, but i can’t really do anything under 1,000 words, sorry. also i have absolutely no idea where this even came from or if it makes sense, but i hope you like it :)

AO3

Mickey allowed himself some time to enjoy the sunlight warming his skin, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, trying to relax into the hard metal bench and listening for Liam and Yev’s squeals as they played in a sandbox. It’d been a long, harsh winter, and he welcomed the warmth, willing it to seep into his pores and thaw out the chill he’d felt in his chest ever since Ian’d convinced him to quit smoking.  ”Yev’s already at a pretty high risk for asthma,” he’d pointed out sternly.  ”And you’ll probably get emphysema or something.”

"The fuck’s that?" he’d responded irritably.

Ian had only smiled, rolling his eyes and plucking an unlit cigarette—the last of Mickey’s pack—from his mouth and flicking it into the trash can.  ”Come on, man, why you gotta do that?” he protested, moving around Ian to retrieve it. “These things cost money.”

"Exactly," Ian replied, taking it away from him again.  "Can you imagine how much money we’d save if we weren’t buying cigarettes all the time?"

That gave Mickey pause, and Ian took advantage of his silence by bringing his hands up to his boyfriend’s waist.  ”Plus,” he continued slyly, aligning his body with Mickey’s, “giving your lungs a break will improve your endurance.  Won’t be wheezing while you ride me anymore.”  Heat pooled in Mickey’s stomach, ears perking up at Ian’s tone.  ”Won’t have to stop sucking me to take a breather.”  He pressed his lips against Mickey’s ear, and Mickey could feel him smirking.  ”Won’t have to stop a half mile into our jog.”

The words were like an ice bucket, and he stepped out of Ian’s arms. “Seriously?  You had to turn that into a jogging thing?”

Ian shrugged, smirk still in place.  ”It was worth a shot.”

Mickey rolled his eyes, readying himself to depart with a signature disparaging comment before another thought occurred to him.  ”I got a better idea, Freckles; how about whenever I feel like smokin’ a cig, you and me smoke some poles instead?”

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anonymous asked:

"Person B becoming bedridden with a mysterious, but temporary, illness. In their delirium, they rudely scream for everyone to leave them alone, but call out for Person A."

Theron and Alistair had just reached an agreement that it would be best if they remained camped for another day or two when the elderly healer emerged from Zevran’s tent, looking faintly tired, and her lips pressed into a thin line of annoyance.

"Did he make advances towards your bosom again?" The ex-Templar asked when Wynne joined them by the campfire.

"Surprisingly, no. If that isn’t evidence that he’s ill, I’m not sure what is."

"Did you find out what caused it?" Theron asked, remembering the ambush that had ended up with Zevran collapsing, feverish, just before the end of the scuffle.

"Not a poison, but given Zevran’s expertise with poisons I’d imagine he’d be immune to all but the rarest." Wynne sighed, glancing back towards the Antivan’s tent. "Perhaps a spell, but he’s still too delirious to recognise that I simply wanted to help. Even bedridden, he managed to shoo me out before I could figure out what spell had been used on him." The mage shook her head in the type of maternal disapproval Theron had been used to seeing from Keeper Marethari when faced with a sick child that insisted they weren’t. "It’s not me he wants to see." Wynne added, giving Theron a meaningful look. As if none of them had already heard as such.

"It seems like he’s that way towards everyone except me." The ranger commented, also shooting the tent a look. Getting the feverish blond back to camp had been… Interesting.

"Lucky." Alistair muttered. "You get to deal with the sick assassin." He added, smirking in a way that Theron doubted was sympathy.

"I’ll go see if he’s alright." 

With that, the Dalish elf ducked into Zevran’s tent. The blond was asleep, a little surprising given how little time had passed since Wynne had left the tent, but he stirred as Theron walked closer. Sweat glimmered on his brow, which creased as the former Crow woke up and realised he wasn’t alone. 

"It’s only me, lath.” Theron said calmly as he saw the blond automatically reach for a nearby dagger. Zevran blinked slowly, and withdrew his fingers from the dagger’s hilt. “How are you feeling?” The black-haired elf continued as he sat down on the bedroll beside Zevran.

"Tired." Was the soft, quiet answer as Zevran pushed himself up into a sitting position on shaking arms, just long enough to lean all his weight against the ranger. Theron sighed, but wrapped his arms around the blond and pulled him close, sweat on his leathers be damned. Zevran’s skin was almost burning hot, even as tiny, involuntary shivers chased each other down through his frame. 

The two were quiet for a moment, before Zevran spoke up again.

Lath… What does that mean?”

Theron glanced at the Antivan.

"Have you forgotten already?" He asked teasingly, which earned him a brief, tired chuckle.

"No, but I like hearing you say it. You don’t say it enough."

"It means love." The ranger answered, as Zevran rested his cheek against one armoured shoulder and closed his eyes.

"You smell nice." The former Crow muttered, and the Dalish elf bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at the non sequitur.

"That’ll be the leather." He answered dryly. "Anyway, now that I’m here, can Wynne come back as well? She didn’t appreciate you being rude enough to kick her out of your tent before she was done."

Zevran smirked to himself, curling up against Theron as best he could with the furs as a barrier. 

"The fussy old mage?"

"I think she would gut you if you said that to her face." Theron mused, running a hand slowly up and down Zevran’s spine, feeling where his shirt clung with sweat. "Or perhaps give you some foul-tasting potion."

"How violent." The blond tutted. "Are you sure that she is a healer?" He added.

"Yes." The ranger nodded, and Zevran sighed wearily.

"Fine. She has a remarkable bosom, anyway." He paused. "So long as you stay here."

Theron blinked, glad for a moment that the Antivan’s eyes remained closed, but then he continued to carefully hold Zevran, keep him relaxed.

"Mm. I won’t be going anywhere." He promised.

anonymous asked:

I have a rather bad cold right now, so can I have some sick stiles, with Derek trying to take care of the fragile human stiles? 'Is that normal?' 'What the hell is that noise stiles? was that you?' 'Why is your forehead so warm?'

I swapped it around, considering what’s happening to Derek in canon right now. ;)

Stiles gets a call from Derek at seven o’clock on a Saturday morning. When Stiles fumbles his phone unlocked and puts it to his ear, all he gets is silence. He flips onto his stomach and grumbles, “Man, you better be dying or something if you’re calling me this early on a Saturday.”

Derek breaks his silence. “I don’t - “ There’s another long pause and then he says, sounding hurt and confused, “Something’s wrong with me.”

Stiles sits up sharply, tugged out of his tired daze by Derek’s words. “What? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? I was just joking about the dying thing.”

“I don’t know,” Derek says, frustrated. “I don’t feel - ” He pauses to sneeze six times in a row. His voice is heavy when he says, “I think I might be.”

“Dying?” Stiles exclaims, scrambling out of bed. He grabs at his jeans, struggling to pull them on one-handed. “Just hold on, dude, I’ll be over as soon as possible. Don’t die, okay? If you see any bright lights, stay away from them.”

“Hurry,” Derek says moodily, and hangs up.

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anonymous asked:

Since you're taking Carmilla prompts, here's one I've yet to see and would love to be written: Carmilla and Laura get drunk (at a party, or together in their dorm) and end up having mind blowing sex(you don't have to make it explicit if you're not comfortable writing smut, it'd be just as awesome if you alluded to it) and wakeup together naked in bed without remembering what happened, they get into a fight because of this. How they make up and get together afterwards is up to you. =)

This was so much fun to write, it almost took a turn for angst in the middle, and was definitely a lot longer than I originally intended, enjoy!

///

It was kind of a tie as to who was more surprised to see whom, but in terms of which of the girls reacted better to their unexpected predicament, well Carmilla decided she should probably award herself that title. First though, she just wanted the room to stop spinning.

“You’re in my bed.” Laura stated as she stared blankly at her roommate, her eyes wide and unblinking which was starting to unnerve them both. She glanced down quickly and gave a short yelp, her hands reaching out to yank the sheet up to her chin as she backed herself up against the way. “Why are you in my bed?”

Carmilla groaned as she lifted one hand to her head and resisted the urge to tell the other girl to stop shouting, it really wasn’t helping her hangover one bit and if there were any more sudden movements then she could not be held responsible for the actions of her stomach. “I am guessing it has something to do with the celebratory boxes of wine from last night.”

“Oh god,” Laura said as she began shaking her head, her quick movements only lasting a few moments before she turned pale and forced her body still, her eyes dropping to Carmilla as she suddenly shouted, “You’re naked!”

“Well, so are you,” Carmilla said somewhat defensively as she shifted under the other girls gaze, well aware that what little part of the covers Laura had left for her was barely concealing her naked form.

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tina-warriorprincess prompted: “Kurt and Blaine meet when a smoke alarm in their dorm goes off in the middle of the night, forcing them to evacuate.”

"Why the hell is this happening to me?” Kurt says, teeth chattering. His roommate, lumbering along next to him, shrugs. He doesn’t talk much, which is something Kurt’s usually grateful for. Now, however, it annoys him that Sean won’t even complain properly. They’ve been forced to evacuate the building in the middle of January in New York, and it’s freezing. Who wouldn’t complain about that?

The building looks perfectly fine. Kurt, on the other hand, looks like he has just rolled out of bed and put a jacket on over his pajamas. That’s because he did.

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anonymous asked:

Sterek with babies (preferably there's but no mpreg)

Anonymous said: sterek being parents forever pls pls pls like ok how about their kid (girl/boy idc) bringing a date over and the boys freaking out?

Rowan is three and a half years old, a beta werewolf born of an omega who lived far off in grid in the Cascade mountain range nearly on the Canadian border in northern Washington state. She’d been killed by hunters, and Rowan had been found wandering the woods alone. The alpha of the pack who’d found them was an old friend of Talia’s, and when the news of their find came along through the grapevine, Derek and Stiles had spent two days hammering through the pros and cons of adopting a baby “right now, like right now,” Stiles had said fervently.

They’d talked about it before, idly, in bed late at night and once on a walk, after they’d stopped in a park and watched kids play on the jungle gym. They were in agreement; they both wanted kids, a matter of when, not if, but Stiles hadn’t exactly been ready for Derek to slam into the apartment and say “I found us a kid.” He’d had some idle thoughts about a surrogate maybe, so they could have a baby made from some of their own DNA, and they’d talked about adopting, but adopting a werewolf, well - “It might not happen again,” Derek had said, running a hand through his hair. “Packs don’t usually let go of their own.”

Stiles got it then - Derek was a werewolf orphan himself, and he gets it, the healing power of pack. That’s the moment Stiles relents and says, “Go get him, then - what are you waiting for?” and Derek and Scott disappear to drive the ten hours up into Washington, leaving Stiles and the rest of the pack to scramble to put together a room for the baby. Stiles is nearly pulling his hair out by the next day, but everything’s worth it when Derek comes into the apartment with a little boy slung over his shoulder and a grin on his face almost as broad as his smile on their wedding day.

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anonymous asked:

So...I know you may not be feeling it, but a CrissColfer prompt, if you are: one of the boys skips out on the wrap party, and the other goes to find him?

Pairing: Chris/Darren
Length/Rating: 900 / G

It takes half an hour for Chris to notice that Darren is missing. He probably would have realized it sooner but the wrap party (one of the many they’ll have) is crowded and loud and Darren has a way of getting caught up in a conversation and disappearing into it, even at a party.

Where are you? He texts. He can’t walk around asking people If they’ve Darren. Even now.

Outside. Back alley.

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anonymous asked:

Hi do you think you could write an AU for 7x16 where when castle is checking Beckett for being impregnated and stuff she says " if you think that's how I GOT pregnant" and she tells castle there

Sorry for taking so long! Its a tad short but I hope I did okay:)

This case was really beginning to get on her nerves, as was Castle. His incessant sci-fi theories were wearing on her. And she’s not too happy that he went and dropped her earlier either. 

They make their way through the dank, dark basement-like room, their flashlights doing little to help with visibility. Of course Castle is sprouting yet another one of his “brilliant” theories, this time something about Alien, which she is barely paying attention to anymore….until she feels something on her neck and she whips her head around to catch sight of Castle’s hands running up ind down  her body. What the hell?

"What are you doing?" she asks with a hint of both annoyance and confusion in her voice.

"Checking you for bites and scratches. Making sure you didn’t somehow get impregnated." he says as if its the most obvious thing in the world, continuing his process. 

She rolls her yes and squirms away from his roaming hands. “If you think that’s how I got pregnant then we need to talk.”

She continues searching the warehouse, oblivious to the confession that just slipped out of her mouth.

She turns around when she realizes that Castle is no longer trailing behind her and finds hims staring at her with his mouth agape and a look of complete surprise in his eyes. ‘What?” she says.

"How you got pregnant?” he asks, studying her face intently.

She looks at him like she’s not quite comprehending what he’s asking her.

"You’re…pregnant?” he breathes, his confusion changing to awe.

She stands there, confused for a second, and has to go back through their conversation in her head before the realization of what she said hits her.

She suddenly ducks her head, her eyes looking up at him through her curtain of hair as she smiles at him with a sudden softness.

 “I was going to tell you tonight but…”she walks towards him and brings up her hand to caress his cheek. “I guess my mind had a mind of its own. She’s grinning how as she searches his face with full confidence and joy in her eyes. “Castle, I’m pregnant.”

He laughs and suddenly she is swooped up in his arms as he spins her in a circle before he fuses his lips to hers. When he finally sets her down and pulls back a grin has broken out on his face as well. He leans his forehead against hers and lets out another breathless laugh.

"We’re gonna have a baby." he whispers.

She is leaning up to kiss him again when a loud hissing sound emits from behind them, quickly breaking them out of their revere.

Damn, she really hates this case.

anonymous prompted: “Klaine setting Dave up with Chandler :)”

"This is wrong."

Kurt shushes him with a finger pressed to his lips. “This is not wrong,” he whispers.

"We’re spying on people. Even worse, we’re spying on a first date."

"Yes, a first date that we set up, so it’s within our rights to see how it goes.” Kurt smiles at the waitress when she arrives, quickly ordering an iced tea for him and lemonade for Blaine, who rolls his eyes.

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carmilla-fanfiction asked:

I don't know if you are still taking prompts or not I just saw the other guys but here: Carmilla is a normal cat-shifting broody vampire and Laura is a prostitute with no place to call home.

I’m always taking prompts!

And I love this one, I did go a little more with homeless!Laura, with hints at prostitution, also Carmilla is less panther and more giant domestic cat.

Hope you like it!

(There is potentially a companion piece from Carmilla’s pov already in the works…)

//

The Adventures of Laura and Catmilla or, How Two Strays Found a Home.

//

The first time Laura sees the black cat, up close anyway, she’s sat huddled next to a dumpster trying desperately to stay warm. She’s seen the cat around before, quite a few times in fact, but most of the times it’s up on a roof or scampering away from people and traffic that fill the busy road. So, when she looks down to see a black ball of fur peeking out at her from its place under the dumpster she jumps, because that is one big cat.

She eyes it wearily for a moment, and can’t help but feel that the animal is considering her too which should make her feel a more than a little crazy. Except it’s cold and it’s late and she’s just grateful for any company, and right now she’s really grateful for non-human company.

“Hi Kitty,” Laura says as she tentatively reaches out her hand. She can’t help but chuckle a little at the voice in her head warning her against potentially disease infested stray cats because considering some of the things she’s had to do lately, rabies is kind of low on her list of concerns. “Are you cold too?”

Meow.

Laura blinks but before she can contemplate the absurd idea that a cat kind of just answered her, the animal is creeping out from under the dumpster to sniff her hand. Laura smiles as she feels the wet nose against her cold fingers, and it’s not long before the cat is rubbing her head against Laura’s hand in a silent request for attention.

“No collar,” she says sadly as her fingers stoke soft fur, “I guess that makes us both strays, huh?

Laura sighs but before she can get too lost in her thoughts the cat has stealthily crawled into her lap and curled up against her, loud purrs vibrating through her chest and filling her body.  She decides then and there, for no particular reason, that the cat is a girl-cat.

“I’m going to call you Kitty,” Laura says, her words distorted by a loud yawn, that Kitty copies. “I’m Laura.”

 She knows it’s probably a bad idea to name something that will inevitably be gone in a matter of hours. But she also knows that for now, with the enormous ball of fluff taking residence in her lap that she’s surprisingly warm and for the first time in a long time, she feels safe.

 

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coyotepunks asked:

the pack at the lake house for the first time after 3b ;u;

They drive up in two cars. Lydia knows the way so she leads. Stiles sits in the front passenger’s seat and fiddles with the radio until Lydia slaps his hand and tells him he’s banned from playing DJ. Malia sprawls across the back seat, attention fixed out the window at the trees and houses flashing past, eyes flashing blue with excitement.

Derek’s driving the other car, with Scott and Kira in tow, but they soon fall out of sight behind Lydia’s car.

“Derek drives like a little old lady,” Lydia snorts.

“It’s that mom car he bought,” Stiles replies, putting his feet up on the dash and taking them down just as quickly at Lydia’s dark look. “Goes with the territory. He drove like a speed demon when he had the Camaro.”

“I want to learn how to drive,” Malia says, her voice drifting up from the back seat.

“I’ll teach you,” Stiles says easily.

“I’ll teach you,” Lydia overrides, and when Stiles glares her she says, “There’s a reason why you’re not driving today. If Derek drives like an old lady, you drive exactly like what you are - a teenager.”

“Excuse me,” Stiles says indignantly. “I’ve only crashed my car three times, thanks. Once to save Melissa from Peter, once to hit your stupid ex boyfriend, and once - okay, the night of the eclipse wasn’t on purpose, but - ”

“Mm,” Lydia hums, plainly ignoring him. Stiles huffs and, in the backseat, Malia laughs.

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anonymous asked:

I've sorta has this headcannon that Felicity's pretty protective of her feelings, so in the aftermath of Oliver's death, she kinda shuts down when someone tries to talk to her about it, and even when Oliver comes back. Its not until a something happens and Oliver confronts her about it that she has a massive breakdown... is this appropriate for a drabble?

Well this got away from me. Not sure this is what you wanted… Sorry?

* * * * *

Like everything I’ve ever known,

You’ll disappear one day

So I’ll spend my whole life

Hiding my heart away

* * * * *

The first week is nothing but a blur of pain and confusion.

She remembers locking herself in the bathroom and screaming because it hurts so much she was sure she was dying. She remembers forgetting to eat for so long that she passed out. She remembers begging Diggle, Roy, anyone, to bring him back. Pleading with them to just bring him back to her because she can’t do this without him.

 And then there’s a moment of clarity. Where everything goes still and the whole world fades back into nothing. And he’s there, and he’s angry, furious. He yells at her to live. To fight. To survive.

And so she does. For him.

But she knows that she won’t survive if she lets herself feel it for even a second longer. So she shuts it away. Locks her pain into a little box behind her heart, and tosses the key into the ocean.

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postmortemtsarina asked:

hannibal au where the show has one episode filmed like parksand rec and parks and rec has one episode filmed like hannibal

'Tom, why did you kill that guy and put him in 17 polo shirts?' Asks Leslie, who is dressed in a weirdly stylish mixture of patterns, inexplicably straight out of a luxury magazine. 

The camera pans up and down the victim’s body, then cuts to April adding creamer to her coffee in slow motion, the creamer forming artful ripples in its glossy black surface. The cup is made of black diamonds. 

A deer with neon craft feathers taped to its butt wonders into the office with a shoe in its mouth. Andy follows behind it, demanding the return of his shoe.  

'Because Leslie,' Tom begins, with great gravity, a dramatic chiaroscuro obscuring half his face and also most of the screen in darkness. 'Sometimes you just gotta treat yourself'