right in the entryway

Hold On, I’m Coming (Part 4)

Originally posted by yourfavoritedirector

Summary: Bobby confronts Dean at work. Later, you decide to fix things once and for all, but Dean thwarts your plan.

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,300

Warnings: language, mild angst

Check out the Series Masterlist

Keep reading

The Unicorn

Summary: Bucky’s away on a mission, and you’re left with an apartment full of boxes to unpack. 

Word Count: 1,394

Warnings: None

A/N: This is dedicated to @writingruna, and she is 110% the inspiration for this (because she may or may not own a unicorn onesie and also because I can just see this happening to her). It was also written when I should have been sleeping but alas, here we are. 

Originally posted by accio-fan-fiction

“Okay, but what are you going to do? You can’t just hang out in your apartment, all by yourself, all weekend.”

Wanda tugged at your arm, which had been retreating into your jacket, her bottom lip stuck out into a pout. You smiled and gently pulled away, snickering lightly when both Wanda and Natasha made noises of complaint.

“I think you’re both imagining me watching sad romance movies and listening to love ballads in my pajamas,” you said, cocking an eyebrow. “But I do actually have some unpacking to do, you know.”

Keep reading

The sound of the door slamming doesn’t quite echo, but it sounds enhanced somehow, like the emptiness of the place makes it louder. Nursey knows it’s a big space, but it looks huge without anything in it.

It’s a little scary, at first. It seemed a lot more manageable when it was staged and full of furniture. This, though, this is different. This big, empty house.

Home, he corrects himself. This big, empty home

Their big, empty home.

Keep reading

Laundry Day

Requested?: Yes

A/N: I know I haven’t posted in a while, forgive me. I love you guysssss xx 

 I let out a puff of air as I drop my giant bag of laundry on the ground.

This thing is fucking heavy!

I really shouldn’t wait so long to wash my clothes but I have my reasons; I live in a loft and there’s only one laundry mat in the building (for us young adults who don’t own a washer or dryer) so just about every time I go to do a load, there's a long ass line. Nobody has time for that. Also, I just got a new kitten a couple of weeks ago and I took him with me the last time I went so now he thinks that he’s supposed to follow me there. For example, tonight, he saw me grab my clothes and ran to the door to wait for me.

I wipe my sweaty palms off on my shirt and squat down to lift the bag again; the door is right there…I think I can make it lol. Just as I get a good grip on the bottom of it, my gray-haired kitten decides to hop on my lap, causing me to tumble and fall on my ass. “Ugh! Ozzie…really, dude?” I laugh before softly nudging him off of me.  

Just then, the black door labelled ‘LAUNDRY’ swings open when one of my neighbours walk out and for some reason, Ozzie takes it upon himself to run right in without me. I call his name but it’s too late, the entryway has closed behind him. I quickly run after him, dragging my one thousand pound bag along with me.

I push the door open. What I wasn’t expecting to find was a tall, brunette boy chasing my cat…now that I can get a better look, it appears that Ozzie has some type of fabric in his mouth. 

“Hey! Come here, little guy!” I hear the boy pant, still running all over the small room trying to get whatever my pet snatched from him. The boy finally has Ozzie cornered and he slowly approaches him, whispering “Okay kitty…can I have that back, please?” as if Cats understand/give two shits about the word, please. Ozzie manages to dash out between the guy’s legs and I can’t stop the laughter that pours out of me. Just about everyone else in here starts to cackle along with me and….I’m just now realizing it;s actually not too busy for once.

My kitten spots me across the room and trots over. I lean down, retrieving the red boxer briefs that now have a few holes in them from where it had been bitten. I wince, knowing that I’ll probably have to give this guy money to replace his underwear, depending on how much they really meant to him.

“Is he yours?” he chuckles, his voice still laced with fatigue. It doesn’t take long for me to notice how beautiful he is; His jaw looks like it was sculpted by god, himself and his smile?…Indescribable. I can’t make it obvious that I’m sitting here internally drooling so I nod and smirk, holding up his briefs “Is this yours?” I mimic his tone. He rolls his eyes and takes them from me, his face turning a bright rosy color. 

“the little stinker just went and stole it out of my basket” he snickers, bending down to boop Ozzie on the nose.

“I’ll buy you another pair, if you want” I sigh, pointing at the holes before glancing back up to his face to await his response. He tells me its no big deal and that he has other pairs with worse damage that he still wears. We laugh for a bit and talk more about how we both a have collection of old ratty clothing that we should have thrown away years ago. Even through all of this back and forth conversation, all I can focus on is how perfect he is.

After a minute or two, he mentions something about having to get the rest of his stuff out of the dryer. 

“Yeah..shit I almost forgot what I came here for” I joke before picking Ozzie up and beginning to drag my bag to the nearest washer. He offered to help but I politely declined.

“I mean you already saw my underwear, I might as well see yours” he winks. We hear a couple of ‘oooh's’ from the other college kids who were loading their clothes in or waiting around for their dryer’s timer to ring. We both laugh at the fact that these people thought he was being serious.

We say our goodbyes and I see him finish gathering his belongings before heading out. I shake my head at what just happened as I turn back to tend to my own business.

“Oh wait! What’s your name?” He calls out, struggling to hold the door open with his basket. 

“Y/n!” I shout back. He smiles.

“I’m Shawn. It was nice meeting you!” He lifts his knee to balance the basket so he can wave but he loses his hold and the entire basket topples over, the clothes sprawled out all over the ground and now covered in his liquid detergent. 

And as if it couldn’t get any more ironic, Ozzy jumps out of my arms, runs over to the pile, and snatches another pair of boxers. 

You Make Me Better

BASED ON THIS POST by @bleebug and subsequent comments from @thesschesthair and @seethelovelyintheworld Thanks ladies for this inspirational prompt, I had a great time writing this.  Thanks to @laschatzi and @xhookswenchx for read through and beta services!

Also on ao3 and ffnet

CS Neighbors AU where Emma is a nurse and Killian is her definitely-faking-it hypochondriac neighbor who uses illnesses and injuries as an excuse to talk to her.


Emma had just put her dinner together and sat down on her couch with a nice glass of red wine, and Netflix ready to go. The upside to working in a small private practice was for the first time since attending college, Emma Swan had a somewhat normal schedule. It allowed her peaceful evenings to herself to do what she pleased. Tonight she’d been home from another long day for a mere half an hour and was beyond ready to relax.


“I should have turned off the goddamn lights,” she muttered.

“Swaaaan!” the interloper persisted, pounding on her door again.

The downside meant a certain pesky neighbor soliciting free medical advice on the regular. Rolling her eyes, she put the television remote and her glass of wine on the coffee table, knowing he wasn’t going to let up.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t be neighborly, but Killian Jones was a menace. The man was a hypochondriac of the worst kind - a fake hypochondriac - some new illness ailing him weekly. She flung her door open just as he was poised to knock again. The breeze it caused carried in his scent, and Emma was olfactorily assaulted by just one of the real reasons Killian Jones drove her crazy.  The next havoc he wreaked on her was the sight waiting before her. Killian Jones, shirtless… again, gingerly propped up against the frame of her door. Last time he’d shown up shirtless he’d insisted that a tiny mosquito bite on his back was a case of the shingles. She wondered if his shirtless visits were nothing more than a chance for him to flaunt his altogether delicious chest: just the right amount of definition and muscle covered by taut skin that pulled as he gesticulated his every word, all overlaid with beautiful black chest hair that descended into a thin trail disappearing under the waistband of his pajama pants.

“Swan, thank the gods you’re here, lass. I need medical assistance.”

Keep reading

Robert wants what he can’t have. 

Tags: PWP, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Barebacking, Angst, Cheating, Seemingly Unrequited Love

Robert knows, strictly speaking, that the definition of insanity isn’t actually “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results,” no matter how many times he see’s the quote misattributed to Albert Einstein on the internet. But as he rings the doorbell of the Christiansen household for the third time in a row, he wonders if the person who really said it wasn’t too far off the mark.

Joseph answers the door, that fucking awful ‘howdy neighbor’ smile plastered on his face, and God, Robert hates that smile. It retreats a little when Joseph see’s that it’s him.

“Oh! Rob, glad you could make it!” Joseph says, gesturing him in. “Wasn’t sure you were coming to be honest, since you didn’t respond to my message.”

Robert steps into the house, toeing off his boots in the entryway. “Don’t call me that.”

“Right, right.”

Robert glances around, nerves tugging at his gut. “Is Mary home?” The question burns like acid in his throat but he has to ask it. Needs to make sure. Just saying her name makes him want to walk back out the door and never come back.

He won’t though.

“No, she’s over at the shelter helping out for the day.” Joseph says, wandering into the kitchen. Robert follows. “Won’t be back until later.”

“What about the kids?”

“Soccer practice.“ He says, leaning back against the island. “Except for Crish. Just put him down for his afternoon nap.”

Robert grunts in response and glances around the kitchen. The room is warm and clean, smelling of brown sugar and the lingering burn of coffee. An assortment of spice filled mason jars litter the counter and the morning paper is open on the island, flipped to the daily crossword. There’s a plate of cookies bundled in saran wrap next to the sink with a pink post-it note on it that reads ‘For Bake Sale.’ Even from this distance, he can tell that the handwriting is Joseph’s. Robert briefly imagines waking up each morning and eating breakfast here and quickly chases the thought from his mind. Stop it.

“How’ve you been?” Joseph asks.

Robert snorts. “You didn’t invite me over here to ask me that.”

“No.” Joseph admits. “But I still want to know.”

Robert shrugs, struggling to keep the bitterness from his voice. “I’m great,” he lies. If Joseph can tell, he doesn’t call him on it.

“That’s good.” Joseph says. His voice is surprisingly soft. “You look good Rob.”

Robert’s face warms. “Don’t call me that.”  

“Sorry.” Joseph says, looking not at all sorry. He steps in close, crowding Robert against the counter. “Thanks for bringing my jacket back by the way.”

“Well you told me to.” The jacket, which Robert is currently wearing, is nearly a dead ringer for his own, with a few minor differences (one of which was the price tag, he learned, after looking up the brand and nearly choking on his mid afternoon whiskey upon seeing the cost). When Joseph had slipped it in his mailbox with a note attached shortly after their last tryst, Robert briefly considered that it was actually his and Joseph had stolen it.

“And you’ve been wearing it around like I asked.” Joseph praises. “How’s it fit?”

“Smaller then mine but still comfortable.” Robert begrudgingly admits.

“Did anyone notice?”

Robert shakes his head.

“That’s a shame.” Joseph says, tugging on the lapels. “But I’m glad it’s been treating you well.”

Robert deliberately neglects to inform him just how well, remembering that after about an hour of internal debate he’d buried his face in it and come drowning in self loathing and the smell of Joseph’s cologne.

“Do you even wear this thing anymore?” Robert asks. Joseph smiles.

“Sometimes, when I take my bike out, which admittedly isn’t often. Otherwise it’s got a pretty permanent home in the closet on my boat.”

“Why give it to me?” Robert huffs, playing off the nervous jitter in his gut. “Seeing me in your clothes get you off or something?”

“Mmhmm.” Joseph bumps their noses together, mouths a breath apart. Heat pools in Robert’s stomach. “Actually, I got off every other day this week just thinking about it.”

Oh fuck

Joseph kisses the side of his mouth and ruts against him. Slowly. Deliberately. Robert braces his hands against the counter and groans.

“You walked around for a week smelling like me.” Joseph says. “Wearing my property.” The implication of that statement isn’t lost on Robert. He wonders if to Joseph, the jacket looks more like a collar. “And nobody knew but the two of us.” Joseph runs his hands up Robert’s torso and smiles into his mouth. “Our secret.”

We have a lot worse secrets then that. Robert thinks to himself. His breath hitches as Joseph thumbs at his nipples through the fabric of his shirt.

“You probably got off on it too didn’t you.” Joseph accuses. “Did you come with your mouth on it? Are there bite marks on the leather?”

Robert moans lowly, head rolling back weakly as Joseph continues thrusting him into the marble. Joseph curls his fingers in Robert’s hair and tugs it sharply. “I bet you did. Should I check?”

Robert - already sweating and eager to cool off - is more then happy to oblige him, and starts to remove it.

“Uhuh.” Joseph says. “Not now. Leave it on.”

Robert pauses. “But-”

“On.” Joseph says, punctuating the word with a grind of his hips.

Robert flushes. “On,” He repeats. If Joseph is fine with it getting dirty, then that’s his problem. 

Joseph smirks into the hollow of his neck, sinking his fingers into the leather and tugging him closer. “Good boy.”

Robert shudders, holding back a groan, and the movement isn’t lost on Joseph. He chuckles lowly, hands dipping below the hem of his jeans.

“Wow,” he teases. “You get off on that?” His fingers rub circles just below Robert’s hipbones, flirting with the waistband of his briefs. As if he didn’t already know the answer to that question.

“Fuck you.”

“Workin’ on that sweetheart.” Joseph purrs. Robert swallows another groan, his head dizzy with the word sweetheart and the insistent press of Joseph’s mouth against his jaw. Robert thrusts back against him impatiently. “Easy, easy.” Joseph murmurs. “Let’s move this somewhere else.”

Joseph hooks his arms under Roberts calves, lifting him effortlessly. Robert forces the traitorous fuck that’s hot from his mind with some difficulty.

“Where are you takin’ me?”

Joseph hums against his lips. “You’ll see.” Robert wants to press him, but Joseph starts kissing him earnestly and he stops focusing on anything but the heat of Joseph’s mouth and the way he keeps nipping at Robert’s bottom lip. He doesn’t notice how far they’ve gone until he hears a door close and opens his eyes.

“Are we in….” Robert trails off as Joseph quickly removes a hand to fumble with a light switch. It’s mostly unnecessary; there’s light streaming in from the small windows on the other end of the room.

“The garage.” Joseph finishes, still licking into his mouth as he sets him down again. Robert sees Joseph’s bike, parked in the garage when it’s normally covered with a tarp in the shed, and puts two and two together.

“You are not fucking me on your motorcycle.”

“I’m fucking you on my motorcycle.” Joseph says.


Joseph pulls a face.



Joseph toys with the waistband of his jeans. “You’d look so good though.” He coo’s, tugging him close by his belt loops. Robert nearly chokes. “Bouncing on my cock, taking me so beautifully, dripping and pretty and wrecked in my jacket. On my bike.”

A reminder that I’m one of your possessions too? Robert thinks but doesn’t say. He whines in spite of himself. The thought of belonging to Joseph is…. more arousing then cares to admit.

“But if you don’t want that….” He trails off wickedly, hands leaving Robert’s waist. Robert panics.

“Fuck.” He swears, grabbing Joseph’s hands as they pull away. “Ok, ok.”

“Ok what?”

“You know what.” Robert snaps. He’s not playing this game today.

Joseph smiles slyly, tugging Robert’s hands to his lips. “I want to hear you say it,” He says against his knuckles.

“Fuck no.”

Joseph bites his tattoo, hard, and arousal hits Robert like a wave. “Fuck fuck goddamn, shit.”

“Language.” Joseph says, mouthing along the side of his thumb. Robert keens when he licks at the pad.


“Say it.”

He suppresses a shiver. Joseph’s voice is low and commanding and hot. So, unbelievably hot, and Robert’s weak.

“God I want you to fuck me on that bike.” He groans out.

Joseph smiles into his hand and gives it another quick bite. “Good.” He twines their fingers together and leads him back toward the motorcycle. He settles onto the seat, legs straddling it, and tugs Robert’s face down with him.

“Pants off.” Joseph slurs, kissing a line up his neck. Robert shucks them off with an embarrassing lack of grace, kicking off his socks in the process, and practically falls into his lap. “Good boy.” Joseph cups his ass and drags him closer, grinding him down on his crotch.

“Fuck.” He’s leaking through his briefs and Joseph hasn’t even touched him.

“Look at you.” Joseph says, thumbing the wet patch on his underwear. “So needy.”

Robert stifles a shiver and palms Joseph’s crotch, grinning smugly when his breath catches. “Speak for yourself.” He watches Joseph’s pupils blow out, consuming his stormy blue irises, and can’t help thinking I did this, as Joseph curls his hand around the back of his neck and pulls him into a messy kiss. I did this, he thinks, and it makes his chest ache.

Joseph breaks the kiss and pulls a small bottle out of his back pocket. He clicks it open. “Wanna help?”

Robert grimaces as Joseph pours an overly generous amount of lube into his hand.

“You always use too much of this shit.”

Joseph laughs, undoing his pants and pulling his cock out of his underwear. Robert can feel himself staring. “Later.” Joseph teases, as if reading his mind. Robert flushes hot, and Joseph kisses his jaw. “Go on.”

Robert curls his sticky fingers around Joseph’s dick, stroking roughly, twisting, and Joseph shivers, head falling forward against his chest.

“You’re so good at this.” He murmurs into his shirt. “So talented. God I love your hands.”

Robert’s cock floods with heat and this time he can’t bite back a whine. Joseph’s mouth curls into a grin. “Do you like when I tell you how good you are?”

Robert tightens his grip on Joseph’s cock in response.

Joseph chuckles but for once doesn’t press him. He wraps his hand hand over Robert’s and gently removes it. “Now you.” He says, reaching for the bottle again. Robert flushes.

“No, I-”

Joseph laughs, nipping at his collarbone. “I know you like it rough but I’m not fucking you without prep.”

“You wouldn’t be.” He promises. Robert grabs his hand and brings it around to his ass, wordlessly guiding it beneath the elastic of his underwear. Joseph inhales sharply.

“You didn’t….” Joseph slowly presses a finger inside of him, surprisingly tentative. Robert jolts at the intrusion, letting his head fall on Joseph’s shoulder as he let’s out an unsteady breath.

“Goddamn.” Joseph swears.

Robert snickers. “Language.”

“You prepped yourself.” Joseph says, ignoring the taunt. He sounds awestruck. 

“It speeds things up, provided my partner doesn’t decided to stop halfway through to admire my handiwork.”

“You didn’t know I was planning on having sex.” Joseph says. He curls his finger and Robert gasps through his dry laugh. “I just asked for my jacket back.”

“You always want sex.” Robert accuses.

Joseph, unable to deny that, chuckles and nips his earlobe. His voice is breathy, a low rumble in his ear. “Next time let me watch.”

“No promises.”

Joseph withdrawals his finger, catching it purposefully on the rim, and Robert curses. Joseph smiles and kisses him chastely on the mouth.

Robert feels his ears go red.

Joseph reaches his hand towards his back pocket, then pauses. “Do you want to use a condom or….?”

“No.” Robert swallows. “No we’re both clean so. Not today.”

“Mmm.” Joseph hums. He presses a soft kiss to Robert’s mouth and begins gently massaging his thighs. Robert melts into it. Of all the cruel things Joseph does, kisses like this, he thinks, are undoubtably the worst.

“Ready? Joseph asks, pulling away. Robert nods, a little dazed. Together, they shimmy Robert’s underwear down far enough that it’s no longer obstructive, and Joseph wraps his hands around his waist. Carefully, he guides him down on his cock, fingers bruising on his hips, and Robert gasps as he’s stretched. Too slow.

“Come on.” Robert growls. Joseph stops abruptly, and Robert groans, partly in frustration and partly because Joseph is now holding Robert suspended in the air halfway down his dick and fuck just how strong is he? Robert tries to wiggle himself further down, but Joseph’s grip is iron. “Are you gonna fuck me or not, come on Christiansen.”

“Are you going to ask nicely?”

Robert snorts and bites at Joseph’s ear. “Are you tryin’ to get me to beg again?”

“Will you?”

The way he says that makes Robert shudder more violently then he was expecting to. “Maybe.” He says. Joseph squeezes his hips tighter but still doesn’t move, and Robert relents.

“God fuck, yes OK I want it I want it please Christiansen just fuck me.”

Joseph drops him the rest of the way down without warning and Robert loses his breath.


Joseph’s pace is relentless. Robert isn’t doing more then being bounced up and down on his lap, weakly clutching at Joseph’s arms. The whole bike is shaking. He feels himself dripping lube and precum, and the leather jacket, which was warm before, is unbearable now. He’s drenched in sweat, making his shirt cling to him like a second skin. He’s objectively disgusting. Joseph, comparatively, looks untouched and it’s maddening. Fuck fuck fuck.

Robert moans into the crook of Joseph’s neck, arms wrapped around his shoulders and fingers digging into the fabric of that awful pink polo.

“Wish you could see yourself.” Joseph gasps, biting at his neck as he fucks him harder. “Fuck, you’re so pretty Robert.”

Robert whines lowly.

“So pretty and all mine.”

“Yours.” Robert echoes dizzily.

Joseph presses their foreheads together and breathes into his mouth. “Say it again.”



Robert aches. “Yours, yours, yours.”

Joseph presses messy kisses along his brow and thumbs at the head of his cock. “Do you wanna come sweetheart?”

Robert’s whole body heaves at the thought. “Yes.”

“Tell me again what you want.”

Robert bumps their foreheads together again. Joseph is trying his best to keep his composure but Robert can tell he’s close. “Wanna come.” Robert says, head swimming. And then, “Want you to come with me.”

Joseph groans into his mouth and the vibrations go right to Robert’s cock.

“Fuck you’re so good.” He teases the slit of his cock and Robert nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Joseph, fuck.”

“So dirty.” Joseph coo’s, tangling his fingers into his hair. “God I love your pretty mouth. Say my name again.”

Joseph tugs his head back so far Robert’s back bows. “Joseph.” His voice is raw.

Joseph pulls him back up, fingers still scraping at the base of his head, and bites at his bottom lip, other hand working his cock.

“Love you.” Joseph slurs into his mouth. The words are muffled by his tongue. “Love you love you love you. God I love you.”

Robert’s vision goes white and he amends his earlier statement. Of all the cruel things Joseph’s done, the worst by far is this.

He comes out of his orgasm dazed. His ears are ringing. The world is muffled and hazy; out of focus, like he’s been dunked under water. Joseph is shuddering beneath him.

Love you love you love you.

God I love you.

Robert slumps against him, breathing hard, head spinning. Joseph’s kissing him, cupping his face, thumbs rubbing slow circles across his cheekbones. “I got you.” He soothes. “I got you.” They stay like that for a while, Joseph inside him, lips pressed together until finally, Joseph pulls away. “You alright?” He asks. Robert nods.

“Yea, you?” His voice is so rough it sounds like he’s been gargling gravel.

“Arms are a little sore.” He admits. “But otherwise perfect.” He brushes his hands through Robert’s hair and smirks. “You’re a mess.”

Robert scowls. “Fuck off.”

Joseph kisses his temple. “It’s cute.” He teases. Joseph shifts him in his lap and Robert shivers a little, still sore and oversensitive. “You look well fucked.”

Robert laughs lowly. “Full of yourself aren’t you.”

Joseph winks, taking his hands and kissing his fingers. For a brief moment Robert imagines a glint of silver pressed against Joseph’s lips and it makes his heart skip. He suddenly feels nauseous.

“We have a couple more hours.” Joseph says. “If you want we could….”


“No.” Robert slips off his lap, and simultaneously his cock, and holds back a gasp. He teeters for a second, unsteady, and then pulls up his underwear. “No I should get going, Mat wanted my help down at the shop this afternoon. I’m already gonna be late.”

“Ah.” Joseph’s voice betrays his disappointment. Robert almost feels guilty that it makes him feel smug. Almost.

“Here.” Robert says, peeling off the jacket. “Didn’t wanna forget.”

Joseph finishes tucking himself back into his pants and accepts it, getting to his feet. “Sure you don’t wanna keep it? It’s not getting much use here.“

Robert zips up his jeans and adjusts his belt. “I’m sure.” Robert wants the jacket. Of course he wants the jacket. But much like it’s owner, it’s something he can’t have.

Joseph leads him back to the front door in silence. Robert’s mind is a broken movie reel of Joseph’s voice. Love you. God I love you. Mine Mine Mine. He doesn’t notice when they come to a stop.

“Robert.” Joseph says, snapping him out of his daze. Joseph takes his hand, gently stroking Robert’s tattoo. He shivers. “Last chance,” Joseph smiles wryly, “you can still blow me in the living room.”

Robert laughs humorlessly. “You wish.”  

“Can’t blame me for trying.” Joseph says. He pulls Robert in close, kissing him tenderly on the mouth. “See you later Rob.” He says softly. Roberts stomach flutters.


He forgets to correct him.

The meeting with Mat is of course, a lie, and later that night, Robert fucks himself on his fingers, Joseph’s cum wet and sticky and cool inside him, and comes biting his ring finger until it bleeds.

Amber Eyes

Word Count: about 2200 (not including this beginning part)

Summary: Lucifer meets a little girl with amber eyes who does the impossible (alternatively, a little girl wraps the devil around her finger)

Characters/pairing/fandom: SPN, Lucifer x Child!Reader (she’s 6) (non romantic obviously), Lucifer, Reader and some horrible humans

Warnings: there’s some abuse because apparently I can’t write anything nice

A/N: Alrighty so I might do a part two for this if y'all want one. I just want validation for my fic BC I think it’s cute. It’s a reader insert, but its in 3rd person and I’m really bad with the tenses. Sorry.

Tag List: @falloutofmymemez @sympathyforluci

Saying Lucifer was a softie would be a huge lie unless you were talking about him and a certain amber-eyed human child.

Whilst he had been in the cage, he had figured out, over time, how to peer out of it and at Earth and the humans his Father loved so much. He would rant and rage to himself and the oblivious passerby as his astral-self developed into a human visage, part of him subconsciously wishing he could be among them.

During one of these “outings”, Lucifer had been watching human children run around him, scoffing and flaring at them and their parents, when a small child has walked right towards him. He had stared curiously at her and as she got closer to him and stared to practically and impossibly at him, he somehow felt himself soften towards her.

“Hi,” she said to him, her voice bright and curious- so like a child in her words and actions despite the sadness and knowledge he can see in her eyes. “Why are you sad?” He had looked around him to see if, just maybe, there was another person. But there was nobody. She was, indeed, talking to him.

“I’m not sad, stupid girl. Go away,” he snapped at her, looking away dismissively, hoping she would listen while part of him hopes she would stay. The Cage was empty other than him, and it had been ages since he had talked to anyone besides himself.

“Mad, then,” the girl corrected simply, not moving or looking away from him. “You really shouldn’t be so angry, because eventually, it’ll just make you sad because all you’ll feel is angry,” the girl warned him wisely, making him look back down at her with surprise and more than a little curiosity.

“What makes you say so?” He asked after a second of mutual staring.

“I dunno,” she shrugged before reaching out to him, seizing a hold of his non-corporeal hand and began to tug on his arm. “Being so mad isn’t good for you,” she decided simply without looking at his face. She couldn’t see the shocked expression all over his features. “You need to play.”

Somehow the child had gotten him on a swing a few minutes later, and was able to push it with him on it, defying the laws of reality with his ability to stay seated on the swing while it moved, rather than it moving without him. This shocked him as well, meaning he stayed in the swing as she worked hard to keep him swinging, hoping to remove the scowl from his handsome face. Eventually she couldn’t do it anymore, her arms beginning to hurt, and hopped on the swing next to him, pumping her kegs and staring at him encouragingly.

“You have to swing your feet!” She instructed when he didn’t move to copy her actions. He startled, looking over at her before reluctantly following her lead, wary of the child. They swung for awhile, the girl chattering away to herself without any indication that she cared if he listened or not, talking about their surroundings calmly and yet simultaneously excitedly.

Eventually, a woman came over to the pair, not seeing anything next to the girl other than a swing moving on it’s own and mentally chalking it up to the wind. She seized the girl by the arm, yanking her off the swing mid-swing firmly but not hard enough to attract unwanted attention. The girl ceased talking immediately, clamping her lips closed while she looked at the ground, something Lucifer has noticed immediately. It unsettled him, how quiet she had become so quickly, so unlike the girl who had just dragged the devil to the swing set because she claimed he was too mad.

“I was looking everywhere for you, Y/N!” The woman who had a hold of her arm hisses with narrowed eyes as she crouches down the glare at the small child in front of her, who flinches away from her as much as she can while being in her grip. Lucifer let’s the swing slow to a stop as the woman straightens, marching the girl along behind her as she went, the girl sucking her lips into her mouth and sinking her teeth into them to stop the whimpers of pain that wanted to escape as her mother’s fingers twisted and tightened on her arm, almost like a ‘snake bite’. She looked over at Lucifer as he walked along side her, watching curiously, and offered him a smile, her cherubic features brightening when she realizes she isn’t alone.

“What’s your name?” She asked him, forgetting the fact that her mother was still there and still dragging her down the road to their house, where her father most likely waited ready for them at the door. Her mother twisted quickly, eyes wide as her heart shuddered in fear of her daughter somehow having attracted the attention of somebody who might get her in trouble for the way she treats her offspring, but she doesn’t see Lucifer as he glares at her with cold eyes before he turns to the girl, eyes softening without his notice.

“I’m Lucifer,” he offers to the child with what’s almost a smile.

“I’m Y/N,” she replies simply and unnecessarily, morphing her face into an even brighter smile as she stares at him, ignoring the pain as it increases in her arm and gazing up at him until her mother grabs ahold of her chin with a tight grip. Her eyes are narrowed and her lips are pursed in a tight line as she forces her child to look at her.

“There’s nobody there!” She snarls, “so stop talking!” The girl flinches, letting out a soft cry when her mothers nails pierce through her flesh, small droplets if blood pushing through the wounds and tinting the ends of her nails. The older woman curls her lip in disgust before letting go of her face and straightening, dragging the girl along behind her as she continues the trek to their home. The girl doesn’t speak again and doesn’t look back up at Lucifer as he continues to walk with them, unexplainable curious about the girl who could interact with him, despite him not being there, and make him feel so at ease.

When they arrive at the house- a small, one story house with a nice look to it. It’s white, the lawn impeccable and a lively flowerbed close along the front. Lucifer simply appears inside the house as the female duo continue on their way, and he figures he has about a minute before they arrive at the front door, which he notices has a deadbolt and two chain locks.

It’s nice inside, with off white walls and carpets. There are no photos on the walls and the furniture is all darkly styled. The entryway opens up into a spacious living room, with what he assumes is a connecting bedroom to the left when he inspects the room. The bathroom is in the entryway to the left and to the right is a kitchen. In the kitchen, towards the back, is a door he assumes must be the child’s - Y/N’s- bedroom. He notices the padlock on the door and walks through the wood, surprised when he realizes that its not a bedroom, it’s a basement.

It’s dark, but he can see the tampered with light switch and the scratches carved into the wooden door, some crusted with blood. There’s a growing anger in him as he moves down the stairs, and when he gets to the bottom he’s greeted with an old mattress in the corner, a washing machine and a dryer across the room from it. The floors are damp and the room is cold, the drain in the center of the room without a top helping with either problem. There’s no heater that he can see, nor are there any windows. The only light is on the ceiling above the washing machine- far too high for someone of Y/N’s height, and there isn’t even a switch for it.

They lock her down here in the dark? Everything about the girl screams purity to him, and while he understands the base nature of their acts towards the girl, he doesn’t understand why she is their target, of all things. The fact that they’re her parents makes his skin crawl. He and Y/N have something in common, he supposes- both of their parents locked them away in a horrible place. This was Y/N’s hell, and he decides that if this is where he was locked up rather than The Cage he would probably suffer the same as he does now.

There’s a rattle above him and he appears back where he had the first time (in the middle of the entry way), watching the man he hasn’t seen before stagger towards the door. He’s large for a human, both in weight and height, with graying hair and a weathered face. He’s hardly dressed, wearing only a stained tank top and boxers. He unlocks the door and grunts in acknowledgement as he turns back around immediately, walking back towards the bedroom.

Y/N is surprised to see Lucifer inside of her house, but doesn’t make a move to acknowledge him other than the widening of her eyes at him for fear of the woman holding her arm. Her mother drags her to the basement door, pushing the girl inside after unlocking it with a key that had been stashed on top of the door frame. She locks it immediately behind her. Lucifer appears at the bottom of the stairs, not expecting to be in the perfect place for Y/N’s small body to collide with his as she falls down the stairs. He accidentally cushions her fall.

She lands on him hard, but he hardly moves other than lifting his arms to catch her body completely before she can fall to the floor. She turns those amber eyes towards him to stare at his face, her own loose with shock and awe. She’d never been touched by anyone other than her parents and never for anything other than to be moved or to cause pain, and shed certainly never been held.

“How did you get here?” She asks him with her bright voice that trembles with fear and uncertainty as he slowly sets her down in the ground, internally marveling at how she had somehow warmed him from his constant frigid cold. It was unsettling but somehow not.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m an angel?” He doesn’t tell her he’s fallen. He doesn’t tell her he’s “satan”. He doesn’t say anything other than that.

“Yes,” she says with a firm nod, hardly thinking about it, pinching her face into her childish perception of a serious expression.

“Do you live down here?” He asks curiously, looking around. She nods, her face falling as she looks around as well, although its almost completely pitch black other than some light streaming through the floorboards overhead.

“Yes. I stay down here-” she’s cut off by someone stomping hard in the floor above them and incoherent shouting. After a tense minute she continues in a whisper, “sometimes we go outside so people know I’m alive. There isn’t anything to do, sorry Lucifer.” Hearing his name with her voice makes him uncomfortable, somehow, and he frowns.

“Don’t call me that.”

“How about Mr. Angel?” She asks as she walks to sit on the side of the bed, pulling her feet off the cold floor. “Or Luci?”

“Luci?” The devil gapes at the small girl for a moment and she nods, eyes wide and searching for his approval. “I guess- I guess…” She smiles brightly before moving to reach under the mattress, pulling something out and then patting the mattress next to her with an encouraging look at him.

He walks over after a second of contemplation, watching her carefully as she studies the book cover. My Giant Story Book.

“My mommy gave me this when I was little,” she whispers to him, smiling in memory. “Can you read?” She asks him, looking at the book as she pulls open the thick cover and studies the title page.

“Of course I can read!” He snaps immediately, almost offended by her innocent curiosity.

“That’s really cool. I can only read some,” Y/N offers, opening to the first page with more than the title on it. Lucifer leans over, looking the letters over before leaning back with a smug smirk.

“Yes I can,” he admits before he realizes his mistake. He looks back down at her to see she’s staring at his eyes, her bottom lip puffed out, pouting. Begging him.

“Will you read to me?” She asks after a minute if begging, opening the story book to point to the Thumbelina story.

“Of course not-” he’s cut off by a warbled ‘please’ and her begging amping up further, her face trembling and her eyes watering, threatening tears. Lucifer’s stomach drops and he finds himself unable to even attempt to deny her again. He sighs and reaches out, grabbing the book somehow and begins to read after she situates herself laying down on the bed near him.

“Some years ago, in a small cottage by the river, lived a kind woman…”

By the time Lucifer has finished the story about a half hour later, Y/N managed to wiggle her way into his lap somehow. Her body is warm despite his freezing temperature, and the devil decides that he doesn’t really mind so much.

Don’t You Leave Me Brokenhearted Tonight

A/N: i legit never thought i’d do a series, but I feel a newfound inspiration to do so. i’ve been singing brokenhearted by karmin all fucking week so this whole idea came to me from that and thinking about drugs’ abilities & here i am writing somethin’ out of it

so strap on ya socks, grab some snacks & tuck yourself in bc my writing sucks but i want people to read anyways :)

WC: 1.7k

enjoy!! x

P A R T  O N E

Lights in deep shades of purples and reds. Solo cups littered along the carpet that was bound to reek of beer and vodka by the end of the night. A pop song of sorts coming from the stereo speakers in the farthest corner of the living area. This night was hell-bound for disaster. The marijuana wafting through the thick cold air wasn’t much welcomed to my nose, but I’m no stick in the mud. A—borderline overwhelming stench—wasn’t gonna hinder my good time.

I didn’t stress and breakdown in tears of anger everyday these past two weeks to turn my ass around. I wanted to at least try to enjoy the party. “I promise, it won’t be that bad.” Mani assured me, slathering her lips in a cherry red lipstick from her makeup vanity. I believed her. As my bestfriend since 6th grade, she’s never steered me into anything that would kill me. Get me grounded? All the time. Make me question the safety of our friendship? Depends on the severity. However, she’s always proven that she was someone I’d love having by my side.

With never dragging me into the dark side, she was right. The party was in full swing—or at least I assume it is—and I’m still not broken or passed out on a couch somewhere while two teenagers eat each others’ throats out beside me. I guess tonight can’t be that bad.

I scamper into a tiny overpopulated makeshift kitchen to find a drink, seeing cans and 2 liter bottles of sodas, untouched Solo cups of assorted colors and sizes, bottles upon bottles of liquor, and a large punch bowl full of crushed ice occupying the counter tops. Thank god. Vodka won’t be my only option. I could possible be the DD tonight. The last thing I need is a totaled car and hospital bills racking up past my tuition.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I wanna see Hiccup cry. Like, bawl. Big thick tears with choking and sobs and hiccups.

And since… well, I really want it to happen, here’s a stupendously short drabble. c:

Tears of Strength

Why did things like this happen? Why were family’s torn apart, for no reason? Why couldn’t he just… have… everyone he loved for more then half a day?


Hiccup stumbled out of the council room, not able to bear it a moment longer. That was his Dad’s work… his Dad’s job. He didn’t belong. He didn’t. Not Hiccup. That room was where the Chief made important decisions… that wasn’t him. He wasn’t his Dad. 

No one could ever be.

The Hall was empty, save a few people warming themselves by the fires. They glanced up at the sudden sound of a metal prosthetic rapidly clicking against the stone floor, Hiccup looking away and hunching over as he rushed by. He didn’t want to talk.

Toothless cooed in concern at the doorway, but Hiccup just patted his nose and shoved on, leaving the confused dragon behind. Hiccup faintly heard the Hall doors slam open again- it was probably his mother or Astrid. But he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t keep himself from falling apart if one more word was spoken.


He broke into a stumbled run, not heading for any which direction. Just anywhere that wasn’t populated. He needed to clear his head. He needed to be… weak… he needed to be alone. He couldn’t be seen like this. 

“Hiccup, stop!”

He ran faster, arms wrapped tightly around himself and his head lowered. He pounded his way outside the village, until he slipped into the forest. He didn’t know where he was going. Didn’t care. All he knew was that he needed to put as much distance from the village- his people- as he possible could.

He didn’t realize where he was until he stumbled to a stop, right in the entryway of the cove. He choked, taking in a shuttering breath before crumpling to the ground, falling into himself as he began to sob shamably. He screamed rambles of grief and agony, shouting for his Dad to return and for everything to go back to normal. Why couldn’t death leave him alone? Why did it keep hunting him down, yet torture him even more by not claiming him, but his loved ones?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Hiccup sobbed, face throbbing and stinging from tears. He rocked so his back rested against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest and head against his knees. “I’m sorry, I’m not-not what I… I sh-should be. I never… never will be what y-you wanted m-me to be…”

He rolled against the wall, pressing the side of his face against the cliff and sobbing harder, hand pressed against the wall, the other wrapped tightly about his stomach. “I’m sorry. I-I p-p-promise… promise I’ll listen. I won’t go after him. I won’t. I’ll- I’ll stay and… and keep you safe…”


He moved away, shuddering in embarrassment and shame at the sound of Astrid’s voice. She’d only seen him cry once, nearly a week ago. And then… the shock, adrenaline… he… he still bottled it inside.

But now… he just… couldn’t. The memories overwhelmed him. He couldn’t stay strong. He’d broken. 

And he felt horrible and weak for doing so.

“Pl-please…” He whimpered, rolling into himself even more, wishing he could disappear. “Please… As-Ast-Ast…”

Her gentle arms wrapped around him, her body pressed against his knees. He shuddered and allowed himself to be pulled close into her loving embrace, burying his face into her neck and letting the tears pool once more, silent sobs shaking his shoulders.

“Sh… it’s fine, Hiccup, it’s going to be alright.” She murmured, hands running through his hair. “It’s hard, I know. Sh…” 

“I-I-I’m s-sorry.” He stuttered hoarsely, frantically trying to wipe away the tears. “I’m… I-I’m a mess…”

“No.” She pulled away, her hands resting on his wet face. “It’s fine, Hiccup. All of the bravest must cry.”

“I’m not brave.” Hiccup choked. “H-he-he… he was… A-Astrid I just-”

“Shush.” She whispered, pulling him close again. “You’ll never be like him, Hiccup. Stoick was… his own person. An amazing person. But… but so are you. He allowed change, but you were the one who changed everything. Without you…” She pressed her lips to his hair. “Everything would be different. Bad different.”

Hiccup shivered, not knowing how this was helping anything. He felt like a failure- a complete mistake. “Useless” seemed more then fitting at this moment.

“So stop thinking you’ll never be good enough as Chief.” She continued softly, “Because you are. You are and more. I… we don’t deserve you, Hiccup. You’re kind, smart, sweet, selfless, loving… everything anyone would want for a chief. Inexperienced- yes. But that’s how everyone starts out.”

“Already you’ve been… showing your leadership skills. The ice is cleared, Berk is safe- do you know how brave you are, babe?”

Hiccup shook his head, head pressed against her shoulder. He wasn’t brave. He was the one sitting here sobbing like a child.

“And… Hiccup… I know that your Dad is… is so proud of you.

He squeezed his eyes shut, choking on a sob that bubbled in his throat. How could his Dad be proud of him, when he’d ran away? Again?

“And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise- especially yourself.” Astrid whispered, hand massaging his head and her lips pressing soft kisses against his hair. “It’s alright to cry, Hiccup. I’m right here, I’m here for you.”

The walls crumbled to the point where Hiccup was certain they could never be rebuilt, and he fell against her with sobs ripping from his throat. He scrabbled to pull her closer, hugging her fiercely as he let the grief overcome him, and let the tears stain his cheeks.

anonymous asked:

honestly though? fuck those people who stand right at the entryway to simply observe your store and not walk in to browse. like......you're preventing other people from coming in by blocking the entrance so either walk in or leave, buddy! 😤

something paradise

cs au. ‘there’s something about breaking an engagement and leaving the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with and finding yourself roommate-ing with the man who’s loved you through years and boyfriends and breakups and uncertainties that makes a person a little weepy, a little off balance, a little unsure.’ 

(i’ve been working on this for at least six weeks, and it’s finally, finally finished, and i’m something like pleased with it. (thanks to swallowedsong​ for looking over it and helping me and stuff.) so, enjoy whatever this is. (really long, among other things. just a head’s up.)

recommended listening: majesty snowbird by sufjan stevens.) 

don’t stop, don’t break

you can delight because you have a place

quiet room

I need you now


            She leaves him on a Tuesday.

            Packs up her share of the apartment instead of going to work, keeps Henry home from school so he can help. Wraps picture frames in scarves and sweaters, shoves books and DVDs into boxes, throws pots and pans and casserole dishes into the back seat. One trip to unload these small bits, another for Henry’s bed and dresser and nightstand.

            It takes just over 6 hours to remove every trace of them from this apartment that was supposed to be theirs and is now just his, but she doesn’t cry as she sweeps through one last time. As she takes her key off the chain, locking the door behind her and slipping it underneath. She doesn’t feel broken or empty. Isn’t sure what it is pulsing through her, something that tastes like regret or maybe failure.

            “Sorry, kid,” she says, eyes still dry, once they reach the car. He just shrugs. Smiles a small, sad thing.

            “It’s okay.”

            It’s not.

            But maybe it will be.

Keep reading

it gets better.

warnings: implied/mentions of attempted suicide

notes: my sister attempted suicide last night and is in the hospital and i don’t know how to cope so i thought i would just….. write. this probably isn’t something enjoyable to read, but it was the only healthy outlet i could think of. this is depressing, but it has a fluffy happy ending. 

It was 4:46 am on an early Monday morning when you received the phone call.

Not until that very moment the news was spoken through the phone did you think it was possible to physically feel your heart break. But you felt the jagged line crack down the middle of it, and then piece by piece as it fell apart and crumbled out of your chest.

And now, as you drove through the early morning darkness, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles were the shade of ivory, you just felt empty on the inside. As if what had happened had completely robbed you of your very soul.

One tear rolled down your cheek, and then two, three, four until you were sat there silently crying. Your vision was blurry and you couldn’t see clearly to be driving, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

You couldn’t stop until his hand was in yours, the sound of his breathing caressing your ears like a beautifully composed song.

How could he does this to you?

Why would he want to leave you on this earth all alone?

Keep reading

Kimi ni Todoke Chapter 117 Translation

Thank you @rosemask22 for posting images from the chapter! 

Once again, I’m not fluent, nor am I pretending my knowledge of Japanese is extensive. There will definitely be mistakes in here, and there were a few lines I just couldn’t wrap my brain around. Some of the translations are fairly liberal, others are kind of stilted. That said, if you want to get a feel for what’s being said on each page, I hope this will help!

It’s pretty long, so if you would rather read something more concise, @lalasma did an awesome translation of the Chapter 117 summary!

The format goes something like this:

Speaker: “Dialogue”

Speaker: (Thought)

Page numbers do not match the page numbers on the scans.

Let’s go to Pin’s apartment, shall we?

Keep reading


His sleepy yawns are adorable, and normally, you’d coo over his cuteness and help him up to bed, but right now you really need him awake. And you need him. On top or underneath you doesn’t really matter, but inside you is what you’re really craving. He can probably tell that from the way you straddled him,fully naked, while he was napping on the couch. It’s all his fault for coming home from rehearsal all sweaty - taking his shirt off right there in the entryway. Even half asleep, he’s aware enough to rest a hand on your thigh, moving toward your inner thigh seemingly innocently and then, less innocently arching his pelvis to yours as you circle your hips above him, breath already quickening at the way his clothed erection presses into you. Yes, he knows exactly what you need.

- Admin J

Baekhyun’s EX’ACT Interview, « Monster » ver.

- Baekhyun -

Keywords: mischief, consistent, clarity

Q. What’s your earliest memory?

B. I think I was holding a baby milk bottle. (Laughs.) It was at my mother’s friend’s place. I think they had a baby there. I was maybe about 4. I remember my mom’s friend was doing the dishes, and I was holding an empty milk bottle. It was around sunset. They had an entryway right next to the living room, and there were three rooms total. It was a brownish-feeling house.

Q. Do you ever feel like you’re all grown up?

B. Grown up? I can’t believe I’m already 25. Oh, I do feel that way when I do something nice for my parents.

Q. Do you think you’re a consistent person?

B. I’m not really a consistent person. I act more according to how I feel. Spontaneous, I’d say. (Laughs.) I’m quite fascinated by people who are consistent. Like D.O.

Q. Do you think people change more because of internal factors, or because of external factors?

B. The external factor is big. If people around you say you’re doing well, then you seem to yourself like you’re doing well, and if they say you’re bad, you feel like you aren’t. I’d say the internal factor is not so relevant. Because people can’t be totally objective about themselves anyway, and because we give ourselves too much credit. So I don’t think internal factors are enough to propel someone to really change.

Q. What would you say is a fundamental element of you that does not change even when the environment changes?

B. My goofiness, my bright personality.

Q. When do you feel most yourself?

B. When I’m goofing off with the members in the offstage waiting rooms. But then, I don’t really change that much or act differently in front of different people. I’m the same on stage and off. It’s just a matter of degree.

Q. Are you ever burdened by other people’s expectations? When do you feel that you become free of them?

B. Always. What if I can’t sing well, what if I can’t dance well, those are the things I’m most worried about after becoming an entertainer. To get away from the burden, the thing to do is practice, work out, building yourself up. Then you feel the burden a bit less, as you solve issues one by one.

Q. What’s the thing you’re most afraid of?

B. Dying. Dying from a severe disease, not being able to live long. I want to live a long life without falling sick, peacefully. Because I’m a pacifist.

Q. Which do you believe in more, coincidence or fate?

B. I’d say fate. You know how they say, “that other thing happened because it was meant to lead to this.” I believe that kind of thing. I feel like this is all fate. Being cast for this company at the beginning was also like that. Debuting as EXO was also fate, it seems.

Q. Do you like things to be clear or ambiguous?

B. I prefer clarity. Even when I’m discussing our schedules, I like things to be exact. Either it’s yes or it’s no, I don’t enjoy it when someone goes, “Oh, I don’t know.” Either you like it, or you don’t. Saying “I don’t know” seems to be something you do when you’re not comfortable saying something, or for some other such reason.

Q. What’s something that you think is valuable, that can’t be seen by the eye?

B. The affection between people. You don’t see it, but it’s the most amazing thing, right. You meet a lot of people one by one but you can’t have the same size of affection for each of them. Your heart just goes out more to certain people, and that’s really fascinating.

Q. If one thing in life could last forever, what would you want it to be?

B. If it could last forever, EXO. I’d like it if the name EXO could stand forever, maybe as a role model for lots of musicians, to be remembered and missed in people’s memories, like Michael Jackson. It would be lovely if EXO could last for a long time in people’s memories, proving that we made an important mark in our field.

Just for Us

Read on A3O

“Why you,” he tries, sucking in breaths, “fuckin–just, I– Uggggghhhhh.”

He’s annoyed, so annoyed at Kei. His hands fly to his hair. “Will you just marry me already!?”

They’ve had this conversation before. Kei said no.

Pairing: KuroTsukki
Rating: T

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Cooking headcanons for the whole team!!

I LOVE THIS, YES. I NEED THIS, YES. I cook every night, and I’d be lying if I denied ever thinking of how the team would be if they were in the kitchen

– Ryan

• She follows the book to a T and times it to perfection.
• Watches Rachel Ray and other Food Network™ shows to get tips and input from professionals
• Adorable aprons
• Treats every cooking session like an episode of Iron Chef
• “Pidge you do realize this isn’t a competition– this is our dinner.”
• Occasionally experiments with recipes she find, whether it’s to substitute an ingredient, or to add a spice or something
• Although some of the things she pulls out scares everyone, like why is Pidge pulling out the horseradish when it’s just stew, there should be potatoes, carrots, beef, that’s it– but in the end it turns out fine
• Extreme concentration when she cooks it’s adorable
• Derives inspiration from Hunk, and greatly respects his advice and opinions

• Large fabulous meals
• Spicy curry and paella 24/7
• You will never be hungry
• But this boy learned how to feed a huge family from his mom
• Loud music and dancing around the kitchen
• Equally loud singing, and it sounds like an angel
• Also smells like heaven
• Even Hunk agrees that he’s excited when Lance cooks dinner for the night
• I can also see him knowing how to make chili chocolate?? you know the spicy chocolate??
• Lance being the chef that no one expected him to be though, but man this boy can be a major help in the kitchen
Spicy, spicy, spicy, hoooot and spicy foods yeS COOK FOR ME LANCE

• Also part of the adorable apron squad™
• As a connoisseur, Hunk makes rly good meals, and knows all the tricks of the trade
• I’ve always thought of him to be the one that cooks for everyone, honestly?? I don’t know if that’s a thing?? But he’s the one that feeds everyone on a regular basis
• This boy also will never let you be hungry
• Knows how to cook to the point where meat melts off the bone, and vegetables are grilled to perfection
• Just the smell of the food is enough to draw everyone to the kitchen’s entryway, really, they would eat right there, standing, in the middle of the kitchen there is zero chill
• He doesn’t use measuring cups or tools, rather, he doesn’t need them. He’s trained to the point that all he needs is to gauge the meal and how many mouths it has to feed
• I have a headcanon where he’d probably cook something completely different every day, not for the sake of fighting monotony, but to fill everyone’s palate
• Also to everyone’s comfort
• Perhaps one night is more vegetarian, or another is spicy, one meal is probably soup-based, or another one where rice is the staple of the meal, and so on
• He’s just as creative as Pidge with his meals
• Hunk just makes the kitchen his bitch, you know what I’m sayin
• Also much like Lance, he’ll be in the kitchen, jammin’ and rockin’ out to some tunes
• Swayin’ them hips
• He’s just in his element, and it’s gr8 to see him work that kitchen

• Poor baby is so awkward in the kitchen 
• Prob always confuses the salt for sugar
• Always needs a chaperone in the kitchen, for reasons that vary from the protection of himself, to the protection of the meal
• “Shiro, no! Remember: read the labels. READ THE LABELS!!”
• No one wants a repeat of the incident with the baking powder
• Or the vinegar
• ……Or the yeast
• Stays up the night before he’s assigned cooking responsibility just studying recipes, and everything so he can get it right
• Hunk had color-coded the entire kitchen for Shiro’s sake
• He’s also put a lock on the spice cabinet
• Surprisingly enough, Shiro is good at making bread
• I don’t know why bread, but I see him making, like, honey-wheat bread, or bread woven with herbs, or cinnamon. He’s creative when it comes to bread.
• It’s adorable okay I love making bread it’s perfect okay
• But he’s learned to pull out the ingredients he needs first, then measures them, then prepares, then cooks. He’s come up with a plan, and he learned to execute it
• Everyone sits nervously at the table because the food looks good?? Is this a trap?? and Shiro takes the first bite and his face lights up
• Everyone tries the food and it’s really good, and they know he worked so hard and he’s improving and they compliment him and Shiro almost cries

• We all know how horrible a cook Coran is.
• But the cooking he does is steadfastly traditional to Altea.
• But the poor bab always seems to burn everything he’s ever cooked
• But this hardly stops him from cooking and we all know that
• The only thing Coran can get right is, like, desserts
• Desserts like custard, and creme pie, and pies in general
• Really any dessert, but I’ll live for his pies
• Imagine Coran as a pastry chef tho really srsly I can’t handle this
• As he bakes, he’ll sing songs in Altean, and it’s pure and right
• The secret member of the adorable apron squad™

• Almost as awkward, but she looks graceful doing it
• The third member of the adorable apron squad™
• She’s going to be the one to cross over Altean food with Earth-cultured foods
• It’s quite a fusion, but it’s mostly colorful
• Altean food has a unique taste that everyone can’t describe
• Everyone says it tastes like licorice though
• Licorice and something smoked, like hickory or something
• She constantly asks Hunk what he can teach her of Earth cuisine, and takes notes along with Pidge when they watch their cooking programs
• She’s much better than Coran when she cooks, that’s for sure

• Instant noodles
• Hot Pockets™
• He’s p much a lazy cook, and doesn’t really put much effort into his dishes
• Unless he’s cooking Korean food**
• Then he goes all the fuck out
• Bibimbap, kimbap, tteukbokki, jjigae, soon dupu, you name it this boy can (probably) make it (GOD I love Korean food)
• Pickles his own radishes and kimchi
• Boy knows how to pickle his own kimchi
• When he cooks Korean for the whole team, its never just one dish, either, he’s got a good 3-4 dishes on the table
• Tbh he’s really only a lazy cook when it comes to himself (he’ll eat right, but it’ll be real easy thing like egg salad. if he wasn’t too lazy to hardboil the eggs first.)
• But deep down he really cares about what everyone else thinks of his cooking the poor bab
• Lots of traditional Korean dishes
• Literally no one expected this out of Keith but he just sits there like ‘what, you just gonna watch me eat?”

**I headcanon Keith as Korean

Well, there you have it~ I hope you enjoyed! Remember, my ask box is always open, don’t be shy! Request anything!

I Love You More

This one is a little bit all over the place, sorry about that. I hope you like it though! The last chapter is here or read from the beginning here

GIF Credit: @seekret-fanfic

Originally posted by seekret-fanfic

Sunday Morning

The sun flooded Rafael’s bedroom with a warm glow. Victoria sat up and shoved the hair out of her face and saw Rafael coming in with two cups of coffee. “Morning,” he said handing her one of the cups and getting back into bed with her.

“Why can’t every weekend be this quiet?” she asked with a blissful smile. She sat back against the headboard and stared out of Rafael’s window while she sipped her coffee.

Beside her, Rafael drank his brew and thought back on the greatest weekend he’s had in a long time. “Probably because we have a four-year-old and I have a demanding job,” he replied. He set the cup down on his nightstand and looked back at Victoria, “what do you want to do today?” he asked her.

Keep reading

Tea and Confessions

“Tea and Confessions”

My Masterlist - Here

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2,693

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Your Last Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Warnings: Mental Health (talk of self harming, anxiety, and depression)

Summary:  Reader is part of the Avengers. She has only been with them for a few months, and is still getting used to it. She was alone for a long time, and tends to freak out around groups. After a particularly difficult time, she decides go to a cafe. She doesn’t tell anyone where she is going, but Bucky sees her leave. He decides to follow her. He stays and keeps her company/lets her vent. Cuteness ensues.

Author’s Note: This is my interpretation of the characters and the reader is one of my own creation. I leave the names and such open so you can put your own name and features in or you can create your own. I know this may not please everyone, but I’m writing this for myself. I hope people will enjoy this fanfic, but I know that you can’t please everyone.

I also want to take the time and thank @goodnightwife for being my beta reader and helping me edit and bounce ideas off.

If you would like to be tagged in any future pieces, please let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3 - 


Tags: @luciebell-writes @goodnightwife

My Masterlist - Here

    Being accepted into the Avengers was something you never thought possible. Yes you had some special abilities, but it was nothing compared to Wanda, Tony, or a certain metallic super soldier that you’ve developed feelings for. Your entire life consisted of being pushed to the side, or told to stay quiet to not seem like a possible threat. This made you into who you are today: A young woman who is still figuring out her powers, but is also stuck seeing herself as an annoyance. 

    As much as you appreciated everything the group has done and continues to do for you, sometimes it gets too much. You aren’t used to being around so many people all the time, and while you had your own room, that wasn’t enough sometimes. All of the talk about missions and training and whatever they were up to was overwhelming.

Keep reading