she tucked her in and gently touched her forehead!!!

oh look another oliness fic
actually, this is more of a scene that would fit probably pretty nicely somewhere much later down the line. it’s cute fjflksfd and it doesn’t really have too much direction but its CUTE

this is completely sfw btw!!!! also a couple notes:

-PDA makes nessa so embarrassed lol
-Oliver speaks Aelish, a language from the country of Aelia, which is where this takes place

i think that’s about it lol i hope u enjoy it!


She wonders how Oliver would kiss her if there was no reason to hold back.

Nessa draws forth the memory of how he looked today. He’d been wearing a loose, white shirt with short sleeves and a slight v-neck to give him better mobility as he swung his sword around to parry off Adam’s blows. He’d carried a smug air of confidence and it was incredible, she thought, how he was able to hold his own so well against someone she knew was military trained. His slick brown skin had been warm with the flush of exercise. Even now, she can still hear the chorus of his laughter as he stumbled and narrowly missed being cuffed by Adam’s sword.

She shivers. He hadn’t known she’d been watching - Nessa hadn’t even meant to stop and stare. She was merely passing the training yard on her way to the stables when she saw him. He was mesmerizing and he’d made her weak. All she could do was remember how good it feels to kiss him, how he graciously responds to her touch, the way he chases after her even as she pulls away to breathe.

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Mr. Laufeyson's Ward

TITLE: Mr. Laufeyson’s Ward


AUTHOR: goddessofmischief

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are living in the late 1800’s and your parents pass away due to a tragic accident. Leaving you an orphan, you are sent to a miserable orphanage. Then, a mysterious and harsh man named Loki visits the orphanage and takes you on as his ward. He brings you to his crumbling mansion in the English countryside, where you face his cruel intentions, and eventually discover that you care for him much more than you’d like to admit. 


I had no recollection of what had happened in my dream when I awoke the next morning. I only recalled that something had made me extremely apprehensive, but I could not decipher where this fear had been derived from.
I thought that dawdling further on these thoughts would be useless in helping me remember what had happened, so I instead got up to get dressed. Drawing the heavy curtains, I discovered that the weather seemed more pleasant than the preceding day, and I decided that I would explore the grounds after breakfast.

I wasn’t surprised that Mr. Laufeyson did not attend breakfast. Instead of eating in the grand dining hall, there was another smaller room which was where breakfast and lunch would specifically take place. I ate to my heart’s content and was able to satisfy the hunger that had surmounted within me over the past day.

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Wherever You Go

“Would you write a one shot or imagine about the reader having a stalker, a creepy one and she is kinda paranoid and harry makes sure she knows she is safe and he is there and he stays up until he knows she is sleeping peacefully.”

Let me know what you think, and if you have any requests for future oneshots, you can ask me HERE.

WARNING - Mentions of stalker behavior and assault. Very minimal.

1184 words.

“Thank you,” she smiled, taking her coffee from the barista at her local coffee shop. She turned to leave the warm cafe, almost slamming into the man who had been standing directly behind her. She gasped, a little coffee spilling from the cup and onto her hand. “Fuck,” she cursed, shoving the cup down onto the closest surface she could find, shaking her burnt hand. “Oh god! I’m so sorry!” he said anxiously, rushing to grab some napkins. “Oh.. You’re alright, just a mistake,” she reassured, smiling tightly as she took the napkins, dabbing at the coffee that had ended up on her shirt. Her eyes looked up, forehead crinkling as she took in the appearance of the man for the first time. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place a finger on where she recognized him from “Do I… know you…?” she asked, cocking her head slightly. “No, no. Don’t think so,” he answered quickly. There was an awkward silence. “Right well I’d best be off,” he muttered, avoiding her eyes as he left to exit.


She slid the dresses in front of her along the rack, sighing, frustrated. She needed to find something to wear for some party Harry was dragging her to tonight, but so far she’d had no luck. She turned quickly on her heel, admitting defeat. She’d have to just wear something she already owned. Her eyes fell on the familiar face across from her and she double took, but when she looked back the face was gone. She hurried around the rack, spotting the figure that was loping away. “Hey!” she called, following him quickly. “Hey, you!” she called, and he turned to face her. “Yeah?” he grunted, his eyes refusing to meet hers. “You! From the coffee shop last week. And… I swear I’ve seen you since then as well! At the… the supermarket!” she announced, remembering. “Are you… Are you following me…?” she asked, her voice hesitant.

He went silent for a moment, as if weighing up his options. He went to speak, but stopped himself again, closing the gap between them in three long strides. He grabbed her shoulder, leaning in to whisper in her ear, his breath hot and damp on her skin. “I’m absolutely following you, baby. You look beautiful today. Liked the jeans you wore yesterday more though…” he chuckled. She pulled away, horrified, but before she had a chance to say anything he was speaking again. “See you tonight, sweet cheeks!” he called, his voice almost threatening. And with that he was gone. She stood, frozen to the spot in the middle of the bustling store, and when she finally came to her senses, she was out of the shop in a second, half walking half running towards her car. She drove home as quickly as the law would allow, turning off the car and running into their house, her eyes scanning the driveway before slamming the door shut, locking both locks. 

“Love?” she heard, his familiar voice flooding her with immediate calm. “Hey you,” he smiled as he appeared in the hallway, kissing her gently before pulling her into a warm hug. He must’ve been able to tell something was wrong, because he pulled away earlier than he usually would, hooking a finger under her chin and frowning slightly. “Hey… Wha’s wrong?” he asked. And so she told him everything, the story spilling from her mouth in a stream of panicked words. “And… And now I think he’s going to be there tonight, and I don’t… I hate it!” she finished, eyes bright with tears as she looked up at him anxiously. Harry sighed, finding her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Swee’ girl… Oh love. M’not gonna let anythin’ happen to yeh. You’ll be safe t’night, promise. An’ I’ll be righ’ by yeh the whole nigh’. An’ there’ll be so much securi’y. An’ then t’morrow we’ll work on gettin’ this guy caugh’, yeah?” he reassured, stroking a thumb across her cheek. She relaxed slightly, leaning into his touch. “Yeah,” she nodded. “Thank you,” she added, wrapping her arms around his waist.

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An Assassin’s Affection 3

A dark-haired female locks herself up in her room and wipes away her tears, and bites down on her cracked lips, ire and bitterness darkening her dulled, brown eyes. She starts to write, back hunched over a wrinkled piece of lined paper, and there began her ascent. 

“the world you see becomes who you are”

[Nessian AU]

Nesta stared at her reflection in the mirror.

An artist perhaps would have painted her face as a moon’s pale surface, clouded and distorted with crater-like indents, her cheeks sunken in. Never had her skin touched the sun’s rays, her missions in the dead night. Mornings she slept, planned, and dreamt.

Tomas injected her with poisons so that she’d fall asleep and build her immunity.

Tomas had her concoct her next murder for a person who had dared meddle with hiss plans

Tomas allowed her nightmares, flashes of visions of tightened shackles, cold metal, and rusted bones.

She rubbed her arms, feeling the markings of where IV tubes had pumped chemical enhancements and other liquids for nourishment. The daily injections served to numb her so that the only emotion that dared to seep in was pain.

She blew a piece of hair that had fallen across her nose.

Once her hair boasted of golden brown hues, time reducing each strand to a dull, lifeless brown. Faint streaks of dirty blond and black from dye still hadn’t washed away, another part of her identity shaped from undercover missions.

She scraped her nail along the dirty glass. Watching the grime listlessly fall into the sink, Nesta scrubbed harder until a section of the mirror was clean. So much dirtiness, filthiness, and nastiness—

Her nail cracked.

She ripped it off, ignoring the sharp pain.

Pain was her friend, her lover she could count on.

Her skin prickled.

Droplets plinked against the cold floor, the hole in the ceiling breezing in drafts of cold air.

She stared at herself, watching those drab gray eyes follow every movement. The past beauty of sparkling, deep blue hints vanished from her orbs, replaced by cold malice.

Nesta washed her hands furiously, allowing the water to run over her palms. She drenched them in soap, violently scrubbing until the cuts reopened. She didn’t see the blood pouring from her skin, but the sea of blood from passing faces, bodies hitting the cold pavement, the gurgling of red and belch out of the corners of mouths.

Tomas’s leer, the triumphant smile, the whip—

“I am Nesta Archeron,” she hissed. “And I will not submit.”

No longer.

Tomas was dead.

She shrugged on the simple clothes she had bought and pulled a drawstring sweater over her head.

Nesta stalked outside of the motel, her hood flipped over her face. Pedestrians steered clear of the dark-lined figure, a creation of the night. Her gait invited a challenge that saw the streak of death incarnate.

The soft notes of melody to the driving rhythm escaping from the walls of clubs no longer appealed to her.  

The misted clouds curtained the dimly lit stars, polluted by the hands of greed, a parasite worming in every male she knew.

A little rain had begun to fall, umbrellas snapping into the air. A tall man emerged from one of the colorless buildings, a woman holding his hand. Smiles painted their faces, the man pulling of his coat and gently wrapping it around her frame.

Warm voices.

Nesta looked away, and pushed open the door to the diner, where fuzzy lights surrounded her. Settling herself onto a booth in the farthest corner, she skimmed over the menu and all the listings she hadn’t heard of.

A little smile worked her way on her mouth as she recognized a few items. Cheeseburger, fries, salad…she could taste the sweetness of strawberries at the roughness of her tongue.

The barbecues she’d participated in when she was little, the smoky smell and cheers of laughter, perhaps a game of tag or hide and sneek—

She clenched her fists as she tried to remember the blurry faces of her childhood, the ones she hid and chased, the ones she smiled freely with. Even then, Elain’s and Feyre’s outlines were far away, never quite reachable. There was another face, masculine, a voice deep and rich, that memory shielded from her, a warmth as arms cradled her surely.

Nesta remembered laughter.

But remembering was a dangerous thing.

A voice cleared its throat, and Nesta slid a dagger into her hand.

The waiter backed away as Nesta expertly wielded the blade.

“Yes?” she asked, arching a brow.

The waiter sweated, rubbing his palms along his pants. “Your order, miss?”

A presence slid into the booth across from her, and Nesta swore lowly under her breath.

The male smirked back at her.

“Nice to see you here, sweetheart.” Cassian grinned.

Her first missed shot. The first time an emotion other than pain seared through her. The way he prowled resembled a true predator’s, full of danger and threat.

The male continued to stare at her while he beckoned towards the waiter. “She doesn’t like meat, so we’ll go with the salmon and a plate of asparagus. Two strawberry smoothies for us.” Cassian reached over the table and flipped the menu closed.

Nesta seethed.

The waiter hesitantly took the menu, scribbling down the order. “And you, sir?”

“Large fries.”

The waiter scurried away.

She stared down the male, who merely shrugged off his jacket. Nesta caught the glimpse of hilts peeking out from the inside of the material. By the flares of red that flashed, he was more than the spy’s friend. Perhaps a bodyguard.

Perhaps just had as much blood on his hands as she.

“If you just wanted to eat dinner alone, then you should have said so.”

“Didn’t want to hurt your delicate ego.”

“Everything about us males are delicate, Nesta,” Cassian chided.

She arched her other brow. “What business do you have here.” A command.

An easy smile. “A man can’t eat?”

“What. Business.”

He leaned forward, a string of tension in the air. They stared at each other, neither breaking the silence. The clatter of plates and utensils faded in the backgrounded, and she swore she could have melted in those hazel eyes.

A stirring opened within her, and flashes of a once sanctuary shot down her.

“You don’t remember me?” he murmured lowly, almost huskily. Cassian slowly reached out to cradle her hand, running a thumb down her palm.

Nesta shivered as he cupped her hand.

“Who taught you how to throw your first punch?” he whispered.

A burst of memories flooded her, and Nesta jerked her hand back.

Sprinting through the teeming forest—a male pinning a tiger lily to her hair, pulling her up as she tripped over a tree root, leaning down to peck her cheek, saying she was beautifully clumsy, Nesta rubbing off the sloppy kiss, and lunging forward with her fist—

“You didn’t teach me,” Nesta blurted. “I learned how to myself.” She pressed a thumb against her forehead as if she would wash away the intruding memories.

“Oh really? Over a simple kiss?”

“Delicate,” she hissed out.

“I’m not the one who didn’t tuck in my thumb,” he retorted, and reached for her hand again. Cassian tapped the joint bone on her thumb, staring at her, daring her to break the glare. “I’m not the one who continues to run away.”

Nesta winced as the images continued to cram into every crevice of her brain.

The hazel-eyed male had gently kissed her, touching her cheek, so softly as if she were a newborn fawn, learning the beginnings of carefree caresses. She’d ripped herself from his grasp, his orbs turning into molten gold, and she’d sprinted away from the forest and its music, away from the male who saw past her walls and dared to find her when she didn’t want to see herself.

By the way Cassian was gazing at her, eyes darkening, he was remembering as well.

If Tomas had taught her anything, it was that remembering was dangerous.

Just like this male.

“You’re going to run again, aren’t you?” Cassian challenged, eyes watching her withdraw her hands and slip gloves over them.

Tomas may be dead, but that didn’t mean the scars had vanished as well.

The waiter came over, a wary look shadowing his face.

Nesta didn’t blame him. By the way she and the other male—Cassian—was armed, they could bring down this building within a mere minutes.

Setting the plate of fries in front of Cassian, the waiter quickly placed the other items in the middle of the table. Her tongue dried at the sight of the strawberry smoothies topped with swirls of whip cream, her stomach growling at the sight of seasoned food.

Then she sided with the coward’s decision, one that carried within every voice of her reason.

When Cassian reached for a fry, the waiter blocking his exit in the booth, Nesta dashed off out of the diner and into the streets, where the clouds remained heavy.

She ignored the bark of protest and the coldness seeping through her as the rain pelted against her face. Snagging her hood up again, Nesta wandered through an alley, watching the line of water stream through the cracks in the ground and slip through the gutters.

Even the rain was not free, bound to follow the laws of nature.

Nesta grabbed one of the pipe rails, and pulled herself up, skimming the side of the building. With a grunt, she kicked herself off the wall and onto the roof. Her hood fell back, the rain welcoming her by pelting her eyelashes.

She rubbed a hand across her face, and peered down at the streets. Only the tops of umbrellas greeted her, save for the quick darting shapes scurrying under the covers of shelter.

Tomorrow she’d resume her search for Elain and Feyre, but watch from afar. Her sisters and her had branched from two different worlds. Tomas had stolen her heart and replaced the hole with ice.

She’d caused too much damage, and once a hole had been carved, no amount of filling could ease the carved out blotches.

Her skin shivered, eyes dully staring at the droplets pelting and plowing down windowpanes.

She’d been snuggled into her blankets, pulling the sheets over her head. A yank had snatched her blissfulness, and he’d gathered her body into his arms. She’d punched his chest to no avail, and screeched when he raced into the night, water slithering down their skin. Despite the wind and night, she’d felt warmer than ever, even before being nestled in her bed.

Nesta flinched. Never before had she truly recoiled from pulling the trigger and slashing the blade, but her memories had changed the game. For once, an occurrence concerned her personally without the sinking of numbness.

No longer did the IV injections and mind games suppress her past.  

Her memories had warmed her with fantasy inserted into reality, but also tore her apart. Who was she, with blood on her hands? She could not retreat to the past.

“You know, there’s these things called stairs. Wondrously more convenient than shimmying up poles.”

She lost how many times she cursed today, and rather continued to stare out into the night’s darkness and slanted slopes.

“You wouldn’t be a pole dancer, would you, Nesta?”

When she didn’t answer, the voice returned, closer than before.

“You’d be the star of the of the show. Once the curtains closed, you’d dance again, blistered and all, to the ghost of the music.”

“Seems like you’ve thought this thoroughly.”

“I didn’t have to. You were.”

Nesta turned around and stared at that roughly-shaven face that bred familiarity. The warmth of her childhood—she refused to accept that it could be this nuisance. Yet…his voice held comfort and kindness, a sorely lacking facet in her new life.

“Not stripping,” he corrected quickly, holding his palms out. “A dancer. You were a beautiful ballerina.”

She stared at him.

“I was raised an orphan,” Cassian said slowly. “I thought I was alone, but you were home. You saw me and felt my pain. Shared it with me.”


Memories flooded her. Tears, rage, and violence.

Things she knew all too well. Too long she’d been homeless.

She refused for home to belong to a person.

“Don’t you remember?” he ground out. “I was your everything, Nesta sweetheart.”

Those words carved into her.

“How dare you,” Nesta seethed. “Claim to know me.”

She moved first, a crashing of waves upon the sand, lashing out with the stormy rage of a hurricane. Cassian met her first strike to his knee, managing to block the blow to his face. Nesta twirled, lowering her center of gravity as he lunged forward.

“I’m not the person you knew,” she gritted out, slamming a fist into his stomach, reminiscing the familiar inhalation of chemicals. The drugs had consumed her, had snatched her mind with deformed and dried darkness.

Seeing an opening, she drove an elbow to his neck.

“I’m a monster,” she growled out, glowering as Cassian managed to grab her wrists with a vice-like grip. He snarled into her face—demanding that she calm down—but she was far from calm.

“I’m alone,” she hissed. “Cursed.” Her first punch cracked her knuckles as the force of the blow hit his jaw. A swear pierced the air, and she moved around his form, a shadow, a viper she was taught to be.

This was a fight of strength and will, not of the blades and steel. She quelled the urge to sink her daggers into flesh, a finale to all that resisted. Nesta had a feeling this male would be back on his feet in no time even if she drove him to rock bottom.

Perhaps it was his persistence that had her appreciating him.

Cassian smirked at her before mirroring her movements, and then began their dance of sheer ferocity. A kick and a miss, a lunge and a dodge, a strike and a hold.

“Are you?” Cassian whispered, tucking the blade against her throat and kissing her collarbone. “A monster?”


Nesta drove her body backward, allowing the momentum to have her fall back. At a split-second, she twisted her body around so that Cassian’s body hit the floor. When his gasp slackened, she jabbed his pressure points, watching his head fall against the roof, water sloshing around them both.

Nesta stared at the heart-broken face, and locked away the memories. Only the puddles remained.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I am.”

She left the boy of her childhood in the cold, the rain sliding down his clothes and over his skin, and walked away.


Simple, but needed. I don’t know about you, but tears slipped from my eyes writing this. Too many writers focus purely on higher emotions, choosing to stray from the little building blocks. Too many writers focus on the height of happiness or the crashing low points. Too many writers believe that simple scenes are boring, but to me, they are everything. 

FO4 Companions React to SS Cuddling Up Against Them in Their Sleep

Just kinda imagining Sole next to them, falling asleep mid-conversation, then cuddling up next to the body heat.

Danse: He wouldn’t know what to do! He would panic. They shouldn’t. The brotherhood…But Sole stayed there, snuggled against his chest. They made him feel warm. Well…perhaps this knight could use a little rest after all their travels. He would keep them safe as their protector as he stroked the back of their head against him.

Hancock: Mmm, normally he would see this as in invitation to get more…intimate. But as Sole lay there so innocently, he just chuckled to himself, wrapping his thin arms around them as he pulled them into his lap. They’re gonna know who took care of them when they wake up.

Deacon: He would poke their tummy just to make sure they were really out and not just trying to put the moves on him. Never knew when a good looking guy like himself could get taken advantage of y’know? Once assured they were out, he grabbed a marker and started drawing over their face.

MacCready: His insides turn to goo as he tries to fight off this totally dorky smile. He throws an arm over them, then two. Then cuddles his stubbly cheek onto their soft one because they are the best cuddle-buddies ever. They both drift into slumber in each others’ arms.

Curie: How precious! These innocent displays of affection always brought out the motherly side of her. She would stroke their head with one hand and their back with the other, softly humming a tune to lull them into a deeper sleep.

Codsworth: Can’t imagine how comfortable his metal body would’ve been against him but he makes sure his master has to have everything for the utmost comfort! Here’s a pillow, here’s a blanket, here’s a lamp, here’s a teddy bear, here’s a cup of warm purified water for when they wake up.

X6-88: At first doesn’t do anything. Doesn’t push them off either. Then after a few deep breaths from Sole’s slumber, he puts a single arm over their shoulders and looks off to the side.

Piper: Her mind would go blank at the sudden contact. Blue could be so…cute! Ugh why do they always have to put her in these situations where she feels all silly? But the slow breaths of Sole warmed her chest, so she gently lowered them to the ground with them and coiled her limbs all around theirs.

Strong: *grumble* why human act like defenseless radstag? Strong protect! He’d go out to kill any animals that might pose a threat then go back and huddle defensively over them.

Nick Valentine: Like the true old-time gentleman that he was, he took off his coat and draped it over Sole’s shoulders. They never treated him different like a synth. They were the one person that made him feel like he truly was Nick Valentine

Preston Garvey: He smiles as he looks at Sole’s sleeping face that just crashed on his shoulder. Then he scoops them up bridal style and carries them to bed, gently placing them down. He even pulls up the covers and makes sure they’re all tucked in, like a true prince.

Cait: She doesn’t know how to deal with all this mushy stuff! Whenever someone used to touch her before it was always to hit her or to sexually abuse her. Contact used to make her uncomfortable, but this…Sole was the one person who made her feel like everything was okay. She places a quick kiss on their forehead before they get a chance to wake up.

Dogmeat: omg all the cuddles! Love meh! *tail wag* *licks face* doesn’t give a fuck they’re sleeping, it’s loving time.

Jack's turn

Imagine: Jack being a father.


The red head held his son’s hands in his own, smiling widely as the boy swung with all his might against the chisel. The stone barely chipped under the tiny child’s weight, but Jack clapped along anyway, laughing as his son covered his mouth in happiness, giggling along.

“I did it!”

“You did.” He kisses the top of his son’s head, ruffling his hair as he settled him back on the floor. “You’re almost a master builder.”

The boy happily jumped around, leaning over his father’s lap once more to try and climb back on. Jack just chuckled at his attempt, and he tickled his side as he tried to explain to him it was time for bed.

“Go on now, off to sleep. Your mother will kill me if she sees you up.”

“But, I want to help!”

The boy whined softly, gripping Jack’s pants and shaking him. As much as he loved his son’s company, it was far passed his bedtime, and he didn’t want to deal with a grumpy child in the morning, or wife.

“Now, now. Come on.” He lifted the boy in his arms, rising from his work stool as he walked him towards the house. He was almost at the front door when he saw his wife standing outside, hands on her hips, and lips down into a frown.

“Jack Jackson.”

That was the tone of a woman who was more than frustrated with him. But, the builder still smiled, kissing her cheek lovingly before opening the door. Thank the gods for his charm, because she couldn’t stay mad at him for long.

“You promised to have him back by-”

“I know, my dearest.”

Jack placed his son in bed, tucking him in and kissing his forehead. “Sleep well.”

He turned back to his wife, rubbing her arms in an attempt to ease her anger. He slowly moved her from the room, closing the door gently before wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Am I forgiven?” His lips trailed her neck, leaving behind small kisses until she sighed under his touch.

“You’re such an idiot, Jack Jackson.”

She laughed happily as he lifted her up into his strong arms, kissing her deeply before moving towards the bedroom.

“Shall we be off to bed too, then?”



Originally posted by sirredmayne

@lypreila: If you’re doing a month of prompts then 1)Dancing for Mercy/Genji. Maybe 2)Trouble in the Garden for Merrill/ Hawke.

He’s the one who asked her to come. He’s the one she said yes to. The others had gone to her, asked her politely, begged her endlessly, and she had given them all a sweet smile and a hard no. To him, she had sighed, rubbed her brows, waved her hand with begrudging agreement. Now, he wishes he hadn’t. Not when he hears the shot, sees it catch one of her wings. Mercy goes tumbling from the distant sky, unable to hear his scream. “Angela!”

76 presses fingers to his earpiece, rifle in his other hands, tucked behind a wall. “Mercy. Mercy, report.” The buzz of static is agonizing. Genji is sitting in the backlines, hand pressed against a wall. The other is wrapped around the hilt of his sword, a tight grip, and there’s panic in every line of him. “Pharah, do you have eyes on Mercy?” He can hear her rockets in the air even if he can’t see her where he’s hiding.  

“Negative.” Genji peaks over the railing, sees Reinhardt approaching the courtyard, shielf in hand. 76 is beside him, tagging Talon and shooting them down. Pharah is providing covering fire as they move closer and closer to the package that Talon was attempting to smuggle. 76’s orders are brief, illed with iron.

“We finish this. Then we find Mercy,” he says. Everything in Genji screams the opposite. Find her, find her, now, go now, we have to find her now. He’s frozen in his spot. He knows he should be moving into their ranks, catching Talon off balance, providing discord. He wants to be running the other way, into the woods, in the direction he saw Angela fall. It’s 76 who snaps his mind back into focus.

“Genji we need you.” The fight is nothing. The fight doesn’t matter. A series of strikes and dashes, a shuriken between fingers, sword between ribs. He doesn’t need to wait for 76 to release him. The last Talon falls and he is off. He knows the Valkyrie system. Hours spent talking late into the night as Angela fiddled with the wings, explaining to him how even one could provide her support in falling. It doesn’t stop himself from pushing himself harder, running faster.

Nuttesohn. Draecks votze.” He almost laughs when he hears it. All others see the kind doctor. The patient Mercy. He knows the Angela could stub her toe and unleash enough vitriol to make plants wilt.  He finds her halfway up a tree, legs caught in a branch, swearing as she tries to untangle herself. Giving a hard sigh as she gives up, dangles upside down. Surprise flashes across her face when she sees him.

Hej min älskling,” she says with a smile. “This is not the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.” Genji doubles over, hands on his knees, shaky with relief. “Are you going to help me or just leave me here?” She reaches out her arms towards him. He straightens himself, wraps his hands around hers. She shrieks once as they go flying backwards, crashing towards the ground, laughing as he catches her. There are branches in her hair and she’s spitting out a leaf.

He picks her up with him, scooping her up into his arms. She wraps arms around his neck as he bounces. Humming with delight, squeezing her tightly. Spinning and dancing with her, her forehead pressed against his temple, grinning brightly. “Angela! You’re safe!” He says to her. She can hear the laughter in his words, the happiness that bleeds through the faceplate. She reaches up, touches the buttons she knows too well.

She unveils a shock of green hair, his satisfied smile. She brushes a thumb against his cheek as she cranes forward, presses a kiss to his cheek. He lets her go gently, feet touching ground, one wing still tucked at her back. “Let’s go home,” she says, her hand outstretched. He takes it with a pleased huff, stays by her side.

anneapocalypse  asked:

Fluff Week prompt: Carolina and Connie, nonverbal comfort (platonic or romantic, up to you)

@anneapocalypse​ this is an absolutely delightful prompt. I went for romantic, in the end, I couldn’t resist.

(Warnings for: Mentions of Injuries)


[AO3] [Fic Tag]

Word Count: 675

Summary: She finds her sat in front of her locker. She doesn’t leave her there.

She found her sat on the bench in front of her locker.

Armour and undersuit stripped down to her waist, head in her hands, her hair spilling down around her shoulders and veiling her face. There were fresh bruises outlining some of the more vulnerable parts of their armour, fresh scrapes in the paint of her remaining pieces. She didn’t stir when Connie stepped into the room, or as the door shut behind her.

Connie knew better than to approach without warning, but kept her voice quiet. “Carolina?”

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Pairing: Pharmercy

Warning: Fluff without Plot (sfw but not safe from cavities)

Outside the security exit, Fareeha rolled on the balls of her feet. She checked her phone for the time, lips thinned as it changed to the next minute. Just as she was putting it back into her pocket, it vibrated with a text.

Just landed.

As safe as flying was supposed to be, the tiny ball of anxiety in Fareeha’s heart eased. She texted back, Okay. I am here.

She put the phone in her pocket, only for it to vibrate again a minute later.

Ugh, they’re moving so slow. I can’t wait to see you.

No need to rush, I’m not going anywhere :)

Angela texted back a series of hearts that made Fareeha smile. She slid the phone into her pocket and tried to control the adoring expression she’d been making at it.

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Playing Pretend

Alright so i really wanted to make a fake relationship fic for Lucaya where they’re on a boat. That is literally what this is going to be.

Part 1.

Nonnnie asked: I feel you on that being old thing, my friend and I are both 16 and we watch GMW, sometimes we feel so old. Anyways, I love your writing, so I hope you’re accepting prompts? If so, one where Lucas and Maya have to spend a lot of time together (bc of school project or bc everyone else is away for break) and they end up actually liking each other. Bonus: they’re 15-17 

 Enjoy Mind-Reading-Nonnie the fruits of my tired mind a fortnight ago.

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to hear and to listen to

Summary: When not everything’s resolved, it needs drastic measures for them to come around. Also; Dia is a modern saint. Or cupid? (one-shot)

Pairing: KanaMari

Note: Big thank you @all-the-ships-all-of-them for being my spontaneous beta!
I hope you’ll enjoy this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

words: 4022

edit: Managed to add errors (aka forgot to delete some words) while editing. This has been fixed now. Sorry ‘^^

(phrases in italic = Mari’s engrish)

When Mari skips through the door of her classroom in elementary school, smile all bright and eyes shining like the stars, she expects the usual greeting. Dia shyly waving at her from her seat with a smile on her face and a chirpy “Good morning, Mari-san” and Kanan practically jumping towards her, arms wide open to catch Mari in a giant but gentle hug.

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"The reader's on her period and she's all grumpy while Sherlock tries to help but he's an awkward goose."

Author: sheetalbeetlee

Author’s words: A one shot about the reader being all grumpy during her period and Sherlock trying to comfort her but he gets all awkward about it.

One shot:

“Y/N” Sherlock whined from the living room as you curled up in a ball while your uterus constantly commits suicide.
“Y////NNNN” Now your annoying brother John’s whining. You manage to gather up the courage and shuffle to the two noisy boys who argue over chess. 

“WHAT?” You manage to yell while there was a war occurring in your body. Both the boys shut up and look up at you, John understood what was going on and decided to shut up while Sherlock was about to get yelled at.“John keeps on cheating and he won’t stop.” You looked at Sherlock dead in the eye and said “You mean to say, you woke me up, made me drag my body out of bed and walk into the room to listen to your story about John cheating?” Sherlock looked at John in confusion while John secretly grinned.

“HOW SELFISH CAN YOU BE SHERLOCK?” you punched Sherlock and yelled “DEDUCE THAT” while you walked towards the fridge to grab the double chocolate fudg- Ice Cream leaving John in tears of laughter and Sherlock in pain. “Why are you laughing? there’s something wrong with her!” John calmed down and managed to speak. “There’s nothing wrong with her, Sherlock. She’s just on her period.” Sherlock suddenly became stiff and let out a nervous cough. “You mean to say she’s menstruating?” Laughing again, John gets up and says “Yes, Menstruating. I’m going off to meet Mary. Don’t piss her off… trust me" 
"Yes, of course. Give Mary my best.” Once John left Sherlock went onto the internet to learn more about Menstruation.

-Few moments later in Y/N-

*Knock knock*

“IF YOU DON’T HAVE MORE ICE-CREAM GO AWAY” Sherlock shuffled in awkwardly with a tray full of items that seemed helpful in someway. “Dear god woman… we bought that ice-cream yesterday” y/n looked at Sherlock with nothing but death in her eyes and whispered “are you calling me fat”. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably and regained his posture. “Y/N listen, you’re scary right now because at this time of the month a woman’s body sheds the lining of her uterus and menstrual blood flows from the uterus through the small opening in the cervix and passes out of the body through the vagina." 
“Right, but my point is here are some uhm …. things that may help with the easing of the pain.” Sherlock slowly walked towards the bed and sat at the very edge while passing y/n a heat pack. Her hand touched his and he dropped the pack on her knee causing her to yell out in more pain. “SORRY, SORRY” Sherlock yelled as he quickly grabbed the pack and gently placed it on her stomach. As soon as the pack touched y/n stomach it felt orgasmic and amazing. He then gave her some pain-killers which she could take herself, and he tried to shower her with compliments, like: “Your complexion is appropriate, you please the mind aesthetically, you’re relatively acceptable”.

While Sherlock was talking about god knows what, y/n fell asleep in the middle of the conversation  and Sherlock tucked her in while kissing her on the forehead. As he walked out the door he received a text from y/n simply saying “x<3 Thank You <3x”.

Final Night at Freddy’s - Part 7

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9]

As soon as the hooded figure landed in the office, they launched themselves at Gearbunny with a furious cry.  The animatronic turned just in time to be given a solid, brass-knuckle punch across the face, effectively knocking it over.  Faith, now free of the shadow, lay prone as she gasped for air.

“You’re not touching them ever again, monster!” the stranger declared.  They aimed a kick at Gearbunny’s shoulder, rolling it further away from Faith; the stranger quickly stood between them, taking a battle-ready stance.

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A Woman in a Man’s World

Ask : Hi! Could you please do a Philip Hamilton imagine for me? Thank you!

For: paranoid-borderline-insane 

Word Count: 1438 Words

Trigger Warnings: Abuse, Blood, Bruising

Phillip Hamilton x Reader

[ Name ] was a woman in a man’s world. She has learned that the odds are never in her favor, and she has learned that through pain and suffering. She is the perfect wife on the outside, a politician’s wife. She is known for keeping her tongue at bay, and smiling through everything. Gritting her teeth and lying, ignoring all the comments, the touches that men give her. [ Name ] was good at that. She always keeps her head above water, making sure she doesn’t drown.

She was the perfect wife for a man like him. He was a wealthy merchant. The way he got his money was dirty, through the selling of humans. [ Name ] had married him when she was younger, and only did so for her parents. She held no love for him, only a thick disdain. Like tar and cancer. Her relationship with him was like a cat to a dog. They needed one another, but she hated him, with every fiber of her being. But her parents. They needed the funds. They were simple characters. Farmers and this war had taken a toll on them. So she did what any woman would do, she opened her legs and weaved lies. She told him how she thought he was a gallant man. And how he was so influential and powerful.

The silverware clattered to the ground as she looked at her husband, quite alarmed, and snapping her out of her daze. She had spent hours making sure everything was to his tastes. They lived in a grand mansion, a beautiful place. But he had never seen her smile, nor had she seen him.“I want you to stop talking to Phillip Hamilton, he is nothing but trouble. Shooting his mouth off and saying that he’s just like his father,” he sneered his eyes glaring at his own wife. “He is just like his father, a man whore, I don’t want you talking to him,” Biting her tongue. She had no choice. This world was not built for women, she was a woman living in a man’s world.

Yet, she ignored him. Foolishly. She met Phillip again on the streets, “How have you been?” Phillip asked gently touched her face as a gentle smile found it’s way of hers. How she wished to kiss him once more, they used to share gentle kisses. But now they were careful. His hands were warm and soft as she closed her eyes and let out a breath. How desperately she wanted to relieve her stresses onto him, but as she fluttered her eyes and looked into his innocent ones, she knew that she could not. 

“I’ve been doing perfect,” she responded giving a smile as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Phillip didn’t respond but gently kissed her forehead. How she wanted to relish in this moment but she pulled away, “Phillip,” she warned out as a flash of hurt appeared across his face. 

Seeing the hurt she reached out to him trying to console him but he took a step back, he gave her a smile and nodded, “I know, I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries with you,” he took her hand and kissed the top of it. [ Name ] gave him a look of longing and it did not go unmissed. The two gathered themselves together, they stared at each other like they were desperate to drown in each other’s eyes. 

“Do you want an escort to the market?” Phillip asked holding out his arm as she gave a slight chuckle, placing her arm against his she replied, “Yes, why thank you, Mr. Hamilton,” Phillip shook his head his bouncy curls falling into his face as [ Name ] gave a slight giggle. 

“So what do you need to buy today?” Phillip asked as [ Name ] picked up two ripe apples and handed the correct sum of change to the man in front of her. He responded with a thank you as she gave him a smile. Placing the two round apples into her basket she faced him. 

“I am here to buy some necessities, you don’t need to escort me anymore, I appreciate your concern,” [ Name ] stated curtsying slightly the rich silks of her dress almost getting tarnished by hitting the muddy floor. Phillip gave a chuckle as [ Name ] quirked an eyebrow, his laugh was infectious, for she felt her own lips curling up in a smile. 

“Does something amuse you?” 

“You amuse me,” 

[ Name ] felt her cheeks flush as Phillip shook his head, “My mother always told me to escort a lady to her house when it is getting dark, and it will be getting dark soon.” So the two spent the day at the store. Giggling and laughing to their delight. They shared warm kisses under the sun away from scrutiny. They hugged, and kissed some more. Drank wine under the setting sun. She forgot about her husband’s looming shadow and danced in the light. She could feel Phillip’s warm inviting breath of fresh air, and now it was getting dark. Time for her fantasy to end. 

“Did you enjoy the day My Lady?” he asked as [ Name ] giggled and nodded, she approached the steps of the mansion as he gently kissed her knuckles. His lips brushing against them for a second too long. [ Name ] scurried back up her stairs as she took a glance back to see Phillip staring at her. Closing the door she found her husband. 

[ Name ] yelped in surprise as he grabbed her wrist, crushing it. The apples and eggs fell to the ground, “S-Stop!” she demanded as her head whipped back, she felt the ring on his finger cut deep into her cheek. Blood rolled down her face as well as angry tears. 

“After your betrayal, you do not get to order me around,” he snarled out tossing her to the ground, her hands braced the fall. Her wrist aching in pain. “I told you not to see Phillip Hamilton, and this is how you repay me? A smack in the face?” he snarled as she opened her lips to respond, but she felt the harsh smack on the other side of her cheek. This time, he used his unringed finger. A low sob left her throat as she tried to get away from him, scrambling. Her back hit the wall as his eyes narrowed. 

He grabbed her hair as she gripped the marble, trying to make him stop. “I LOVE HIM!” she yelled her voice shaking as he stopped. She had made a terrible mistake, she was hysterical. Sobbing. Crying. [ Name ] had told him the one thing she wished she could take back. The night was a mess. It ended with his last words being ; “if you don’t end it with him, I will kill him.” And she knew her husband would. 

The next day she met him at the market as planned, [ Name ] was shaking as Phillip gave her a joyous smile. “Phillip,” she whispered quietly as he saw her face. Gently he touched her, his eyes glowing with worry and anger. “Phillip,” she stated as she cut him off. 

“I cannot meet you anymore,” she stated gritting her teeth. 

“ [ Name ], what are you talking about?!” 

“I cannot meet you anymore, I will not be seen as a whore, fraternizing myself with you,” she snarled out, her heart breaking. She could see him visibly flinching at every word that she said, “I am a woman of money and niceties, while you are simply a bastard’s son,” her tone was sour as she closed her eyes. “I want nothing to do with someone as low class as you,” 

“Money has changed you!” Phillip affirmed raising his voice but her eyes continued to stay shut. “Take what you said about my father back,” he hissed grabbing the front of her dress. But [ Name ] didn’t respond, “You can’t end it like this,” he whispered quietly. “Please,” he begged his voice breaking. 

[ Name ] finally opened her eyes, as she nailed the last nail in her own coffin. “Phillip Hamilton, you will never live up to your father’s legacy, so stop trying. Stop pretending, stop deluding yourself in your father’s footsteps. You are an idiotic man, and stay away from me.” With that, she turned around and left leaving her heart behind her. 


A painful amount of silence drifted between the two of them as the door clicked behind Genji. They heard the others muttering behind the door, but eventually they all faded off into another room, leaving the two to their own devices.

Genji moved so that he was sitting in a visitor’s chair next to the infirmary bed that Angela laid in. He leaned forward so that he could stare down at his feet while he wrung his hands in a habitual fashion to his own internal human struggle.

“I hope that everything is going to be ok… When they took you from me and I turned to see you weren’t with me any longer, I lost myself. The thoughts that went through my mind drove me to madness…”

Angela watched him closely, inspecting his body language since even his human nature peeked through despite the majority of him being inorganic. His shoulders heaved and he was tense, his fingers curling and uncurling with his fists. He awaited Angela’s response and didn’t speak.

“I’m going to be fine. There’s slight bruising around my neck and they thought my ribs might be cracked, but it turns out that was just more bruising. You saved me just in time.”

Genji’s gaze moved and she felt a shiver run down her back when a honey brown eye made contact with her blue ones. It felt strange to see any part of him looking disorderly or damaged, and she inspected the broken pieces. The side of his face with the missing visor also had a large dent in it that caved inwards but managed to avoid where one might think a skull would be. She noticed that an odd indention played at its center. Just as she was about to ask him about it, he spoke, “You asked what happened… The ringleader of the band of men had stolen your caduceus and managed to boost his own power by simply shoving his arm through the stream when he pulled a gun out. I only saw him at the last moment when he aimed it at you from my vantage point in the rafters. That was when I noticed that he actually had thirty men within firing range and they planned on using you as a human target practice…”

He paused and went quiet for a good few minutes and she wondered if he’d be ok. There was a sudden clash of metal on metal when he hit his fist against his thigh and a hiss of air went through a vent in his helm as he sucked it in.

“I lost myself when I saw them preparing to open fire on you. I promised myself that peace would be something I would strive to bring into the world, but I ended up destroying all of them in a merciless slaughter. Saving someone through the means of murder is not what bothers me, but how easily I slipped into that mindset”, he looked back at her over his shoulder and she gave him a faint smile.

“I know that the thought of it is hard, but there are times in the past when I thought I would never have to take up arms and defend others. I have killed and battled simply to save someone’s life. You are not alone, Genji.”

She moved onto her side with a cringe as her ribs shifted. The thin blanket that had been draped over her was pulled upwards so that it fell above her shoulders and she curled in a fetal position so that she could watch Genji. This was the man she somewhat remembered meeting the first time he was conscious after her maintenance on him. He looked so broken and confused, although the man in front of her now didn’t seem to have as much of an inward struggle about himself as he did something entirely different. As her blue eyes studied him, he rose to his feet and started to pace the other end of the room.

They both fell silent for a long time and Genji eventually ceased his pacing to look out one of the trademark windows of Gibraltar. Angela was content to just watch him although as someone who didn’t always entirely act human, there were times where he went completely motionless and she’d take bets with herself on how long it would take before he moved again. She did this until the sun began to set behind the ocean.

“Genji. You don’t have to stay here with me. It’s rather boring in here. Winston hasn’t even gotten a monitor in here so I can watch the news. I’d be perfectly ok if you wanted to go do-“


His response was blunt and a little terse. The green of his visor and a slightly annoyed looking brow perked at her from the hole in it. A tap tap tapping sounded as he came closer to her bed again until he was looming over her and reaching forth for her disheveled hair.

“You did not leave me in my time of need and while the injuries may not be the same, I feel responsible. I shall remain here until you are able to return to your room… Besides, you seem to sleep much better when I am nearby here.”

She didn’t plan on asking him how he’d known such a thing since she had an inkling of his behaviors at night, but her face flushed thinking about what he saw while he watched over her. Was it possible she did stupid things or spoke in her sleep? She shook her head to try and clear out the mental image.

When she looked up at him, she noticed that the annoyance in his eye had softened some and he leaned forward to gently tuck a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes scanned her face and a steel finger brushed against a cut down her cheek. She shivered at the coolness on the wound and he withdrew his hand, “Did I hurt you?”.

“No, it was just cold is all. I would tell you if you harmed me in any way, Genji.”

Slowly, and cautiously, he allowed his hand to touch her cheek again and this time it caressed her jawline and moved so that it cradled her head gently. With a sigh, one of relief, he pressed his cold helm to her forehead and closed his one visible eye, “You’ll think me a fool, but I was afraid that my actions had killed you. I could not have lived with myself.”

Angela allowed him to hold her and she felt his other arm move to pick her up just enough from the infirmary bed so that he could press her against his own chest. The familiar whirring sound of his inner workings make her eyes close. It was much more soothing than any heartbeat she’d ever found herself listening to, “I’m not selfish enough to blame someone else for my demise. We were dispatched together”.

Mentally, she scoffed at herself. Angela Ziegler, the hypocrite.

“I still could not have lived in a world in which you do not exist, Doctor Ziegler…”

Several days had passed and Angela had finally convinced Genji to go outside, even if she had to veil it behind the guise of a routine security check. He’d been staying in her room every night and wouldn’t leave when the other members popped in to check on her. At one point he even had an argument with Jesse about the amount of sun being let in. Genji had some form of cabin fever and a bad case of feeling responsible for her condition. It was driving her just a tad insane.

When he’d gone outside, she’d managed to slip into the shower and finally wash her hair. Tracer brought her a care package to the infirmary and thin hands ran through a rather extensive selection of shampoos and soaps. The first course of action, however, was to shave her legs. Days beneath a sheet with the inability to move was never good for personal hygiene.

The bathroom was similar to a small sauna with a metal tub at its center and showers surrounding the walls. As infirmaries went, it was a decent bathroom that could handle being used by at least seven women at once. She took advantage of the intimacy of it and found a shower bench, turning on the warm water and sitting under the spray. It was as if the entire week’s stress flowed from her body and circled the drain at her feet. Blonde hair stuck to her shoulders and fell easily past her lower back as she started to run soap and razer down her long legs.

She was either too content to notice or the sound had not found purchase in her ears when a door opened and closed behind her. As if by sheer luck, or the feeling of being watched, she turned her gaze to look behind her shoulder and found Genji frozen to the spot. One brown eyed stated at her, wide as a dinner plate, and his hand was outstretched behind him as if at some point his mind had told him to flee and turn back. Instead, he found he couldn’t do anything and he’d been caught red handed.

Angela’s eyes matched his in diameter and she instinctively covered her most intimate parts. As if turning away from him would hide her nudity, she faced her back to him and clutched at her naked chest, “Genji. I’m bathing! Please… Some privacy…”

She heard the door click twice again quicker than anything she’d heard before and she knew he was gone. With a sigh of relief, she finished her bath and made her way back to the infirmary dressed in a yellow tank top with a pair of blue shorts. Her hair had been tied back in a ponytail and she calmly brushed her bangs from her eyes as she searched her room for Genji.

She heard two familiar voices again and assumed they were arguing, but when she heard Jesse’s smooth, accented tones laughing heftily at Genji’s hushed ones, she couldn’t help but sit at the end of her bed and eavesdrop a little.

“Ya what? Walked in on her? Haha! Well, how was it?”

There was a hissing sound as Genji inhaled sharply and Angela imagined him taking a potshot at Jesse. The moment never came but she figured he probably wanted to as well.

“I’m not going to answer that! Are you a boy or a man?”

Jesse laughed again and she knew that sometimes his pauses were because he plucked a cigar to and from his lips when he spoke, “I’m a man who knows what he wants. Pretty ladies make life worth livin’. What about you? Afraid to admit the Doc is a looker?”.

There was a light growl from Genji but he fell quiet for a moment, “That’s not how I imagined seeing her in such a state”.

“Oh-ho, but you did imagine it? Boy-o, you’ve got more grit than I give ya credit for. Welp, ya better go and talk to her. Doll like her seems the type to hold grudges about that sorta thing. I could be wrong. ‘Sides, everyone’s taking bets about how long it’ll take you two to…eh, you know. Admit those feelin’s and all. Pretty obvious.”

There was the sound of metal on metal as Jesse patted Genji’s shoulder with his metal arm and then the click of spurs as Jesse left towards the mess hall. Angela still sat at the edge of her bed when Genji reappeared in her room and he just watched her from the doorway.

“You heard all of it didn’t you.”

It was a statement.


His one brow furrowed but he was in front of her before she could blink. She gasped as his hand was on her chin, tilting her face upwards so that it could meet with his calloused lips. He’d removed the damaged visor just as quickly as he’d come to her and it rested on the bed near her hand. His kiss was frantic, serious, and something else lingered behind it. There was desperation, fear, and…sincerity. The lips of a past playboy caressed her own and the range of emotion behind it led her body to act of its own accord. Both of her arms slid upwards and she laced them around his neck to bring herself closer. His own hands raced to her back and pushed her forward so that she arched into him. When he finally pulled away from her, he licked his lips and the slightest hint of a pant was on his breath.

“When I told you I needed to talk to you upon our return… It was about this.”


“Yes… I need to be with you, Doctor Angela Ziegler. I’m tired of being a patient… “

love with urgency, but not with haste.

But like… Imagine how Sasuke was when they first started out. Slowly wrapping his mind around the two of them truly being together, he’s almost shy when he accepts every loving gesture she makes, even behind closed doors. It feels nice, to have Sakura leaning against him, to have her take his hand while they sit on the back porch of her parents home, if not a little bit strange. He doesn’t know what to do, so he usually doesn’t to anything, just accepts whatever she offers, and savors the love he finds.

He is hesitant and a bit clueless when he tries to show his affections. He can’t remember his parents ever being so bluntly affectionate in front of him, can’t remember much more than his mother’s gentle looks when she looked at him, her thin fingers just barely intertwined with his; can’t remember much more than the affectionate tap on his forehead that Itachi was so fond of giving him.

There isn’t much in his past that can help him learn–but he tries the most that he can, and Sasuke thinks that alone is enough.

Sakura doesn’t seem to mind, thankfully. She doesn’t expect him to be as affectionate as she is, doesn’t seem to ever expect blatant affection from him at all. Every touch comes as a surprise, stunned green eyes fixed on him with such awe he can’t help but to feel encouraged to do this more often.

He learns, with time, and the touches come more easily. 

It feels natural, eventually, to pull Sakura against him as they lie in bed, to bury his face in her hair. Kissing her forehead on lazy mornings becomes more of a habit than a fond impulse, and the light pause of his hand as he reaches to cup her cheek or gently tuck a lock of hair behind her ear steadily disappears. As the months pass by, he finds himself being the one who reaches to intertwine their hands first as they huddle closely on her living room couch. 

The hesitance that he feels fades away, replaced with a sense of comfort he’d never thought he’d have.

Just imagine Sasuke learning to show his affections. Imagine him learning to give as much love as she has always given him. 

Imagine him being so proud of being able to give her exactly what he always wished he could give her. 

Something More

Stroking her fingers gently through his sandy blonde hair while he slept on her chest Selena watched every little curve and edge of his softened features. Letting her hand trail down behind his ear, her thumb gently grazing it, she placed a soft kiss on his head as her fingers continued down his neck across his back, tracing the slight definition of his muscles in his resting form; filling them both with an unnerving sensation.  Behind the tinted glass fresh embers leaped, radiating warmth through the nostalgic room, as she lay skin to skin with her lover.

The radiance within the deepest parts of her heart sheathed her entire body as the boy who lay in her arms’ lips found their way to her collar bone, the gentleness of the affection reaching all ends of her body. She met Justin’s heavy eyes as a soft smile graced the corners of his lips and with the softest touch she stroked his temple tenderly breathing for him to go back to sleep. Laying his head back down on her bare chest, just above her heart, he fixed his eyes on the dwindling candles layering the room.

Absentmindedly he allowed his calloused fingers to stroke back and forth across the soft skin of her hip, the small abrasions of her tattoo gliding beneath his fingers solidified his yearn for her and the need to feel her flesh on his in the most intimate ways. He wanted to memorise every line, every bump and every crook of her body just to savour her beauty and the effect she had on him. He was completely and utterly taken by her and her him. “Why can’t every night end like this?” he rasped, the warmth of his breath brushing across the top of her breast as he pulled the comforter higher around them.

“Because our dreams are no longer better than our reality” Selena replied softly as she trained her eyes to the roof.

Gently Justin shifted himself so he could watch her. One of her hands continually swept from his wrist to his bicep and the other tangled in her messy hair; she was sedated by love. Catching Selena’s hand he wound his fingers delicately around hers and stretched his other arm to lie around the top of her head stroking her forehead. Softly kissing her jaw she succumbed to his touch, shuffling down the couch, she moulded her body to his; tucking her head tightly beneath his chin.

“You are my dream, sweetheart” he told her and those words held so much more adoration and love than an I love you ever would. He had always thought that when he fell in love that would be it but his love never stopped growing. It expanded in so many ways and in such diverse forms. There was always something new to love. Something he had never noticed; another bump on her body, a small freckle beside her eye, a new habit that she had developed or a new form of her own love developing his. It was a never ending cycle for the two as they always found something new to love about one another. Something…more.

“And you mine” she breathed with a sigh, “I can never get enough of you” she admitted and he knew by the slight hum in her words that it wasn’t just that of a sexual fulfilment but an emotional and physical one as well.

They were always touching, always watching the other, learning mannerisms and the way muscles curled with different movements and then they moved in perfect synchronisation to the point where minimal words generally needed to be spoken to direct mannerisms of the other. They just knew what the other was doing, where the others hand was or wasn’t going, the next step they were going to take all from observing one another so frequently. It was almost rehearsed that is how well they knew the other’s body.

“Love doesn’t even begin to cover what I feel for you. I’ve been surrounded by love my entire life and everything I feel for you surpasses that in every way” she silently agreed with a soft kiss to his chest.

“You completely and utterly mesmerise me, Justin”, the words flowed from her mouth, his heart welcoming the serenity of those words. It had been like this a lot lately. The stresses of everything else in their worlds had evaporated into nothingness. With age they realised the importance of things in life and at the end of the day they both eventually wanted to come home to a loving husband or wife and a beautiful family. That is what was important in life.

“With the time we’re taking off maybe we should start looking for a place” her murmured into her knotted hair.

“Somewhere we can both call, home” Selena muttered which caused a breath taking smile to take over the entirety of Justin’s face.

“Somewhere we can grow old” he mused which caused Selena to tighten her leg draped across his to hold him closer to her. They spoke of their future frequently but it was nights like this that cemented the idea of being together forever. The soft touches, the feeling of skin on skin, the moans, adoration, love and need they had for one another proved they could never have anyone else. It was them. It was such a simple thing, nothing lavish about it, nothing fancy just the pure love they shared for one another. The wanted to give the other a great life full of happiness and security as they had both lacked that for some time.

They weren’t perfect but laying on the floor by the fire, completely naked after making love to one another just holding each other was enough. It was enough to fill the void and create a tangible exuberance in their relationship.

“Can we fly to the middle of nowhere so we can stay like this forever?” Selena asked softly as Justin lifted her chin so her eyes would meet his.

“One day I promise to take you somewhere in the middle of nowhere for as long as you want but right now I want to make love to you again, right here in front of this fire before falling asleep with you wrapped tightly in my arms” he vowed and she believed him. She could feel the honesty in his words and she pursed her lips against his thumb as it dragged over her soft lips.

“You promise?”

“With everything in me”

“Then make love to me”


At Musing’s End (1/?) - Wonder By Wonder


You know the drill:



IF NC-17 was a line, this is not even in the same unidimensional field as that line.









BUT: I suggest you read it. Actually I encourage you to read it. it’s time we changed how we view sex. It’s not disgusting. It’s a loving act. And I have no malicious intent in writing this :D

(Except I write it about real people and that’s kind of creepy of me AND I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS)


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anonymous asked:

BK, I just need some happy cs fluff with Killian treating Emma like the princess warrior she is

She doesn’t let him help her until they’re behind the front door of her house by the docks – the one she bought because she said the sea calms her blood, color rising high on her cheekbones as she averted her gaze and kicked at some imaginary line on the ground.

(He remembers biting the inside of his cheek so hard it nearly broke skin, the smile pulling at his lips anyway, the roll of her eyes making him love her even more – a thing he thought impossible.)

She falls heavy into his side as soon as the door clicks quietly shut behind them, her forehead pressing into his shoulder and her fingers gripping tight at the lapels of his leather, barely holding herself up against him in the small foyer. Their walk home from the center of town had been slow progress and her magic (a new villain and a protective curse around the town) has left her drained, her breaths shallow and her eyelids heavy.

“Come on, love,” he slides his hand through her hair and she hums appreciatively, his fingers rubbing small circles at the base of her skull as she sways on her feet, his bloody stubborn (beautiful) lass. “Let’s get you to bed.”

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