the cup is still a little out of reach though

Sokovian cuddles

Anon request:

Hi there! I’m in love with your blog, and I know that there are a lot of specifically Pietro blogs, but I love your style, so I was wondering if you could do something of Pietro? Maybe it’s movie night and the reader never told anybody she liked to cuddle but Pietro kinda offers and he can’t stop staring at her and saying cute things then they fall asleep together all tangled. Idk I just need FLUFF!

A/N: I’ve changed the ‘never told anybody she liked to cuddle’ to ‘haven’t been cuddled for ages’ - I hope you still like it?

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: none, this is pure sweet fluff.

Originally posted by deanimagines67

Another movie night, another rom-com on the agenda. How delightful, You thought to yourself. Everyone around you is either loved up or is having a casual friends-with-benefits arrangement. Meanwhile you’re stuck in the Avengers Tower, the rarest creature of them all - a singleton.

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Good Morning|M| Oneshot

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

Pairing: Readerx Jimin

Genre: Fluffy Smut, Smutty Fluff? PWP, slight dom/sub, switch Jimin 

Words: 3,889 

A/n: So I had a dream of something like this and let me tell you, Best. Dream. Ever. That is all. I hope you enjoy cute, sexy, Jimin my loves. 

There’s a storm outside, you can feel it before you even open your eyes. The wind is whistling a fast paced tune, rattling the windows and seeping through each crack in the house. The cold winds itself around you, but you are safe. The bed is a warm cavern, layered in mismatched piles of blankets and pillows. When you do open your eyes you see the room bathed in a chill white light streaming from the window. Somehow you are surprised even though the weather channel had warned your town about the upcoming snowstorm way in advance. A small, pure, part of you wants to scramble out of bed and look out the window like you did when you were still a kid in school. If there was a lot, a spark of relief and joy would surge through you, excited at the prospect of staying home and playing later after a few more hours of sleep. However, the bitter chill of a winter morning stinks your cheeks and the heavy arm over your side keeps you still. Still, a gentle smile graces your lips at the weight the lays securely around your body. Without looking, you place your hand on the hand on your stomach and wake the butterflies that live there and have lived there even before the first snow fall. Smoothly, to keep from waking him you turn in your place.

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anonymous asked:

Made up Fic title : When you said yes

okay so this reminded me of an idea I’ve been meaning to write forever, cause I saw a post (or maybe an ad? idk) for a mug that said “marry me” at the bottom & I imagined nat, being her usual meddling self, buying it and offering it to steve the next time she sees him making coffee for tony

she does like a wink wink nudge nudge thing but it goes completely over steve’s head, he just fills the mug without looking and takes it down to tony

he hangs out there a bit while tony takes a break to chat & play footsie under the table or whatever, until eventually tony gets to the bottom and drops the cup. It lands on the table and only cracks a little, thankfully, but steve’s like hey, whoa, what’s up and tony just reaches across the table and hauls him in, kisses him with an intensity steve doesn’t understand in the slightest but is totally down for. they kiss for a long few moments and tony keeps saying “yes” in between kisses and steve’s like “okay, sure, yes? yeah yes alright” not entirely understanding what they’re yes-ing here and tony’s like “of course yes, you idiot” and steve’s like “wait I’m not totally sure what we’re talking about here, do you wanna go upstairs? I thought you had work” and tony freezes, like full body freezes, and steve can see the wheels in his mind working full speed then tony sort of reboots, kisses him again softer this time and is like “I do have work, I forgot, yes, I was just…y’know, yes like I love you, I don’t know, I’m tired” “yes you sure are” steve teases and there’s a flicker of—of something, something steve quite can’t identify it before it disappears, but he knows it’s out of place. disappointment? he’s not sure but tony seems fine and when steve asks about it tony smiles and brushes him off and steve chalks it up to tony working too hard again/exhaustion/a moment of them not being on the same wavelength

he hangs out for a little while (tony subtly moves the cup away, out of steve’s reach/sight) and things smooth back to normal. a couple days later, steve walks in to surprise tony, sees him fiddling with the cup. when he says hello, tony jumps and shoves it forcefully onto the table. steve raises his eyebrows, tony says it’s nothing, he just got caught up in his own head. steve’s like okay sure and takes him out to dinner like planned. it sort of niggles at him all night though; how tony had dropped it the first time, how it was still in the workshop instead of taken upstairs at the end of the week like all the other dishes, how guilty tony had looked when steve had seen him fiddling with it. plus the fact that natasha had handed it to steve kinda out of the blue. it was a new cup, wasn’t it? he’d never seen it before. when they come home steve excuses himself briefly (“I’ll be right up, I just want to check on something”) while tony goes upstairs

steve goes into the workshop, intending to look it over and assure himself it’s just a stupid cup and he’s being weird, but instead sees marry me? inscribed at the bottom. his stomach swoops and bottoms out and he has to grab the table to steady himself because oh god he’s such an idiot

he takes the cup with him and goes upstairs. tony’s in pjs now and clearly waiting for him, lax and easy and happy when steve walks in until he sees the cup in steve’s hand, then he stiffens and draws himself in defensively and steve’s like “I didn’t—natasha gave it to me, told me I should take you some coffee but I didn’t look, I just—I didn’t know it said anything” and tony’s like “yeah, I figured that part out pretty fast” and steve steps forward, sucks in a breath because “you said yes” and tony looks away, locks his jaw “it was stupid. it’s too fast and we haven’t talked about it and it’s stupid, I should’ve known it was an accide—” “marry me” tony’s eyes lock back on him, startled, “what?” steve dares to hope, to grin, “you heard me” “if you’re joking, it’s not funny” “what in the hell would make you think I’m joking?”

steve tosses the cup on the bed as he moves forward, takes tony in his arms and kisses him with all the hopeful intensity tony had kissed him those few days ago, asks again, “yes?” and tony laughs, “yes” and steve teases “c’mon, like you mean it” and tony laughs again, nearly into steve’s mouth because he’s already going for another kiss even as he says, “yes, idiot, of course yes”

so that is the tale of “when you said yes”

Church Camp

Words: 3k

Genre: smut

Synopsis: you and Joshua have known each other through church n youth group for years, and when u are asked to be leaders at a church camp things get a bit wild

Content: virgin Joshua, sub!jisoo (my url is finally coming tru), experienced reader, reader is afab but can identify as anything, there’s no pronouns so like, reader rides him and sits on his face good shit

Author’s Note: I have been dreaming of this for so long listen okay this is what got me Really into svt the thought of absolutely wrecking Hong Jisoo (s/o to @dimplesjae and this fancam)

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fantabulousfelix  asked:


…this prompt had me weeping with literal tears this morning when I read it so I had to bump it to the front of the line…


In the best of ways, Link still wasn’t quite used to referring to the Zora Prince as his husband. Their honeymoon had been full of pure bliss, doing nothing but sightseeing for the sake of sightseeing, reading for the sake of reading, and just enjoying each other’s company without feeling weighed down by the titles of Prince and Hero. It was a remarkable feeling, waking up to the gentle sounds of Sidon’s soft snores and sleepy purrs, his large head resting mostly face-down on Link’s chest (it was hard for a Zora to be anything but a stomach sleeper, though it didn’t seem that Sidon minded considering how fast he could fall asleep at the end of the day), arm curled around him securely.

It was so much fun watching Sidon stir in the mornings too. First there would be the quiet rumble of a purr, then Sidon would turn his head more onto Link’s chest, arms and shoulders stretching ever so slightly as he hugged Link tighter, then a deep inhale coupled with the small shudders of a little tail wag (though Link found he could get a larger tail motion if he rubbed the back of his husband’s head), and then finally Sidon’s entire body would stretch and he would lift his head up with a big yawn, his lip curling back to reveal his sharp teeth. He would open his eyes, pupils trying to find focus as he rested his chin on the top of Link’s chest, giving a sleepy smile and mumbling, “Morning.”

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hi im gross. based on this pic from this video 

im pretty sure yuri and otabek are doing a pair skate in the vid but i wrote this as if yuri’s skating solo


“Do you want to go on a drive today?” Otabek asks, draping his jacket over his arm as they walk through the streets. It’s still early in the day, and the sun is blinding as it casts warmth over the city. Yuri’s sunglasses twinkle when he glances over at Otabek.

“Sorry, can’t. I’m working on my choreography today for my grand prix final reveal,” He says, taking a sip of his smoothie. “Lilia’s letting me take the reins a bit, and I got Georgi to help me out, too.”

“Georgi?” Otabek asks, raising an eyebrow. “His style is a little…. “

“Dramatic?” Yuri snorts. “Fuck yeah, it is. I’ve been kinda digging it. It’ll look way cooler when I do it, though.”

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anonymous asked:

for the kiss prompt: #1 with ignis

@bluebell-lucy, have a fluffy Ignis. :D

When you woke up, you weren’t surprised to find the other side of the bed empty with the covers pulled up and tucked under the pillows. You breathed out a sigh, bathing in the warmth from the sunlight streaming in through the window. 

You managed to drag yourself out of bed when you heard the clang of pots and pans. The smell of fresh breakfast reached your nose then, and you inhaled deeply before making your way out of the bedroom and to the kitchen.

Just as you expected, Ignis was there, spatula in hand as he cooked breakfast for the two of you. You stretched out your arms and let out a yawn as you padded closer to him. Once you were behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and plopped your head between his shoulder blades. “Morning, baby.”

You felt Ignis’ hum vibrate through him. You could tell his focus was starting to shift, moving from the food to you. His culinary movements were still as fluid as ever even with the distraction, though, and you just moved along with him while he reached a stopping point in the meal.

Finally, he spun around in your arms, leaning back against the counter and wrapping one arm around you in return. The corners of his lips tilted up as he cupped your face with his free hand, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. He pressed your foreheads together and rocked you back and forth, his eyes closed. “Good morning.”

You let out a pleased, peaceful little hum and kissed him again, pulling him a bit closer to yourself. You could feel his smile.

hemnalini  asked:

babes could you write fs going maternity clothes shopping? you're so effing fabulous! <333

Well of course I can! Thanks <333



With a muffled groan of exertion, Jemma tugged on either side of her shirt, trying to force them close enough to do up the buttons over her growing stomach. But, the material simply refused to give anymore, leaving an inch of bare skin still exposed down the center of her torso.

“I think it’s time to admit defeat, Jem.”

Huffing out a breath, Jemma finally gave up on the shirt and allowed it to settle around the soft curve of her baby bump. Turning to face her amused husband where he was leaning up against the doorframe of their bedroom and had obviously been watching her struggle, she sighed, “I suppose you’re right – but, at least I made it almost five months before I had to buy new clothes.”

“How you can even make being pregnant competitive, I’ll never know.” Fitz shook his head, an unbearably fond smile tugging at his lips that Jemma couldn’t help but return. “Alright, see if you can find something that still fits, and we’ll head out right now and pick you up some new things before you have no options left.”

“Well, I’ll always have the option of not wearing a shirt,” Jemma shot back teasingly, even as she threw a contemplative look at her side of their opened closet.

“Much as I’d love that, I don’t think it’s appropriate in most social situations.”

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“The hair was the same, maybe a little scruffier if that was possible, and it had taken on a distinctive purple sheen. The ears, mostly hidden in his hair but not blending into it as most Galras’ did, remained mostly human but for a sharp point, reminiscent of the late Ulaz.

He was no longer resisting her, his arm had fallen limply to rest against her leg. She reached out a trembling hand to cup his chin, to turn his face towards her. From what she could tell, despite his skin tone now being cast in a soft lilac, it remained unchanged. The nose still possessed its slightly upturned tip, though there was a splattering of deeper purple flecks across the bridge that she was pretty certain hadn’t been there before. A slightly darker pigmentation began at the corners of his eyes to run along the sides of his nose before curling out over his cheeks.

"Look at me.” She whispered, more a request than a command.

Slowly his eyelids drifted open and he raised his gaze to hers. He flinched slightly when he found just how close her face was to his. Scant centimetres separated them.

The space was dim, but not dark. There was no bright light source to reflect and cause the eerie glow. Allura could still see his dark irises, veiled behind a curtain of gold. They weren’t the solid colour usually seen in the Galra. It would seem the nanites hadn’t completely burned away his humanity after all. He was still a hybrid, the Galra genes had just been made prominent.

A smile blossomed on her perfect lips, not of sympathy, but of true affection.”

From Tale As Old As Time ~ Chapter Three

Happy Birthday, Atsushi! (*´◡`​*)♡ Here’s a little something… as I’ve said previously, I was going to write some creepy stories this month, and here is the first one, a crossover with Tokyo Ghoul. I saw this art by @telari and I just had to… I screeched internally when I saw it. (*⊙ω⊙*) I love their art so much! o(*>ω<*)o Heads up that there are some graphic gore descriptions in this story.


So hungry.

You curled, knees under your chin and arms wrapped around your shins, in the corner of your room, back facing the door. You couldn’t cry; there was so little moisture left in your body that your mouth was as dry as sand and producing a single tear was straight up impossible.

“You are going to starve yourself to death, Little-chin.”

Pop. Slurp.

You clenched your teeth and buried your head between your knees, curling up so tight that your spine was hurting. The sounds coming from the other side of the room were making you even more nauseous and you would have vomited if only there was anything in your stomach. You risked taking a glance and immediately closed your eyes again.

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TITLE: Hospitality


AUTHOR: MaliceManaged

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki showing up randomly at your door asking if he can crash on your couch.

RATING: General

NOTES/WARNINGS: There’s an f-bomb or two, and Loki being… Loki. I need sleep.


    There’s a god on my porch.

    The thought was slow to register in the brunette’s barely-woken mind.

    There’s a god on my porch. At two in the morning. On a Saturday.

    She blinked her hazel eyes once. Twice.

    No; he was definitely still there. And he was saying something. She thought she caught the word ‘couch’ in there somewhere. She stared at him. Long enough for him to frown, likely rethinking the decision to be there at all.

    Finally, she stepped aside, and he wasted no time in walking into the house. He went straight into the living room and promptly collapsed on the couch; by the time she’d closed and locked the front door and followed him, he was already out cold. She stared at him for a moment then decided it was entirely too late/early for this and went back to her room, where her bed welcomed her like the fondest friend.


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King and Queen of Dorks

Pairing: Eren/Levi
Rating: Teen
Word count: ~800

Because I couldn’t get magickitt‘s picture out of my mind… Also, congrats on the 600+ followers sweetie! ♡(.◜ω◝.)♡


Farlan raised an eyebrow at his red-headed companion’s grunt. “What’s wrong, Izzy?”

The girl shook her head and gestured her hand towards a tree. “Take a look, Far.”

Farlan raised an eyebrow and peeked over to where Isabel was pointing at. “Oh wow. That’s so gross.”

“I know, right? They’re so disgustingly adorable, it sickens me,” she said with a smile.

“Yup. Totally ew-worthy,” Farlan snickered.

The duo hid themselves behind the tree to see Levi and Eren sitting next to each other on a flower patch in a hidden area of the park. They were seemingly oblivious to Levi’s childhood friends watching them as they snuggled up against each other.

They weren’t having a conversation of any sort, but they were comfortable around with each other that no words were needed as they enjoyed the other’s company.

Eren was leaning against Levi as the raven man ran his pale fingers through the brunet’s hair. The pastel boy let out a sigh of content as he pressed himself more into Levi.

It was a rare day off for the two of them and they decided to visit the local park after lunch to walk around and hold hands (Levi was such a romantic, even if he vehemently denies it).

They almost passed by the flower patch, but Eren insisted that they take a break and rest near the flowers. And being weak to Eren’s green and gold eyes, Levi couldn’t say no to his precious boyfriend.

The raven man continued to thread his fingers through the brunet’s hair, noting that it was getting a bit long. Getting an idea, he shifted his weight so he could balance himself properly while not falling over as his other hand reached for Eren’s hair.

“Lee, what’re you doing?” Eren absentmindedly asked, not at all bothered by Levi’s attention on his hair as he plucked some of the flowers from the patch and arranged them in a circle.

“Braiding you hair, what else? It’s kinda getting long.”

“You dork; you don’t even have elastics to tie them up.” Even though Levi couldn’t actually see it, he could hear the smile in Eren’s voice. “And is it? Maybe I should get it cut,” he said as he tied the flower stems together.

Giving up on the very loose braids, Levi shimmied so he could hug Eren from behind and rested his head on the brunet’s shoulder. “Whatever you like, love. Maybe you can dye your hair? I saw you looking at those hair inspiration posts the other day.”

Being so close, Levi could feel Eren’s movement as his angel turned to face Levi with a big smile on his face. “That’s a great idea! There are so many different colours and ideas I want to do,” he said, his smile widening even more if that was possible.

Taking the opportunity, Levi tilted his head forward to place a kiss on the tip of Eren’s nose. “And you’ll look great in anything. It’s you after all.”

Eren giggled as he returned the kiss with one on Levi’s brow. “Dork.”

“Punk,” Levi corrected and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of Eren’s lips.

Eren dropped the flowers he was preoccupied with as he maneuvered himself onto Levi’s lap. He reached behind Levi’s head and pulled him closer to kiss him fully on the lips.

Levi smirked as he felt little nips on his lips asking for entry. Placing his hands on Eren’s sides, he slowly reached down to the hem of the orange knit top. He rubbed little circles on the barely-covered thighs before allowing the whimpering brunet access.

Every time he was with Eren, he wished time would slow down so he could savor the moments he had with the brunet. Especially as he watched Eren’s eyelids slowly open to reveal those gems once their passionate kiss was over. The little pout that formed on Eren’s lips made Levi reach down and gently tugged them with his teeth, loving the little whine that escaped from the brunet.

Cupping Eren’s face, he gave him another chaste kiss. “So, love,” even though they had been together for many months, Eren’s heart still skips a beat every time Levi calls him that, “What were you doing there?”

Eren snapped out of his daze when he registered the question. The brunet smiled as he turned a little from his spot on Levi’s lap to grab the circle of flowers and placed it on Levi’s head. “There! A flower crown for the King of Dorks.”

Levi blinked a few times before smirking. “Well, if I’m going to be King of Dorks,” he said as he plucked a flower from the patch and tucking it behind Eren’s ear, “I’m going to need a Queen of Dorks, don’t I?” he asked with a smirk.

Eren giggled as he placed his hands on Levi’s face and reached up to nuzzle his nose with Levi’s. “I guess so.”

The sound of Levi’s chuckle was loud enough for his peeping friends to hear. Smiling, the two backed away from their hiding spot and walked away.

Isabel giggled as she looked up to the sky. “They’re so obnoxiously in love.”

Farlan chuckled as he reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Yeah, they are.”

anonymous asked:

If you're still taking prompts, can you do one where Mulder takes care of Scully when she is sick? Maybe set pre IWTB on the run time period?

So I wrote and wrote, and what was originally going to be a story about Scully with the flu turned into this. I’m sorry. 

Mulder woke with a start as he heard a door slam. Suddenly wide awake, he sat up, inhaling sharply as his eyes scanned the darkened room and he reached for the gun sat just by the bed. With his left hand he reached out for Scully, noticing she was no longer sleeping next to him. Moments later he heard sounds of her retching from the bathroom, and his panic faded as he realized that she was responsible for the noise, not an intruder.

Clearing his throat, Mulder got out of bed, running a hand through his hair as he made his way towards the bathroom. It was a small motel room, cheap and nasty, and he could hear everything that was going on inside - the sound of Scully vomiting, followed by a flush of the toilet. “Sc…” Mulder caught himself just in time. He couldn’t be too careful. She was still Scully to him, at least during quieter moments, when they were driving from one town to the next, or when he was inside of her, her real name a whisper on his lips. But at times like these, when they could be overheard by a neighbor or passerby, she was someone else. “Amanda?” He called, the name sounding foreign on his lips each time he uttered it. This week it was Amanda, last week Claire. Next week he wasn’t so sure.

Scully’s reply was cut off by her retching once again. Without waiting for an answer, Mulder turned the door handle, relieved to find that she hadn’t locked the door, and stepped inside the cramped bathroom. Scully was curled up by the toilet, her arms hugging the rim as she reacquainted herself with what little she’d eaten the night before. She’d said she wasn’t hungry, but Mulder had put it down to stress and worry rather than an actual bug. It looked like he was wrong.

“Oh Scully,” he murmured, stepping over to the sink, careful not to jostle his partner, and pouring her a glass of water. He grabbed a washcloth from the side and wetted it, before crouching down to Scully’s level. “Here you go,” he said, handing her the plastic cup of water before moving to wipe her mouth with the washcloth. “How are you doing?”

It was the wrong thing to ask, he realized, as she glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “I feel like shit.”

She looked like it too, but he wasn’t about to risk his life by telling her that. “How long has this been going on?”

“I was up maybe an hour ago but I started to feel better. Then suddenly it hit me again.” She took a steady sip of water followed by a deep breath.

“You should have woke me up.”

“Sorry, I had more important things to worry about.” So she still had a little sense of humor, even if she did feel terrible.

Handing the cup back to Mulder, Scully then attempted to get to her feet. “Should you be doing that?” he asked, placing he cup and washcloth on the side before reaching out to help steady her.

“I want to splash my…” Scully paused, her eyes growing wide. She moved as though to turn back towards the toilet but was too late, unable to stop herself as she vomited once again, hitting the toilet seat, the floor and her and Mulder’s feet. Mulder jumped back in surprise. “I’m sorry,” she exclaimed, sinking to her knees once again as fresh waves of nausea overcame her, not even caring that she was kneeling in the mess. Mulder tore his gaze away from the floor to try and help her, this time holding her long hair back from her face with one hand, while holding her with the other. “It’s ok,” he tried to soothe her. “It’s ok.” Mulder wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, him cradling her as she threw up. When she was finally spent, Mulder stood, rinsing the washcloth yet again and helping Scully to wash her face. To his dismay he realized she was crying. “Hey Scully, it’s ok.”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, looking Mulder up and down. He glanced down at himself, feeling his own stomach tighten as he noticed his soiled pants and socks. He willed himself to keep his own dinner down.

“It’s ok, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. Come here.” Mulder held his hand out and helped Scully to her feet. While she cried he helped her out of her pajama pants, before quickly discarding his own and his socks, before throwing them into the shower stall. He could deal with that later.

“I..I threw up over…over your socks…” Scully hiccupped, her tears now falling in earnest, and Mulder rushed to reassure her, not wanting it to make her ill once more.

“I’ve got more socks Scully, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“It’s just a bit of vomit. It never hurt anyone. Come on,” he added, wrapping an arm around her. “Please stop crying, it’s ok.” But Scully didn’t agree, and her tears didn’t let up. He began to wonder if her crying was more than just a result of being sick. “This is…it’s just a bug, right?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. “It’s nothing more?”

“I’m not pregnant if that’s what you mean,” came a small voice.

Her words only made Mulder feel worse. He hadn’t really suspected it, but he just wanted to make sure. They’d had plenty of unprotected sex since they’d been on the run, but then it had been the same just before they’d conceived William. Still, Scully seemed sure and he believed her. “And you feel ok otherwise?”

She nodded, looking impossibly tiny in his arms as she cried. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice breaking. She was anything but ok.

“Help me out here,” he pleaded. “What would you do if you were at home?”

“I’d call my mom.” Now he felt like a first prize asshole. “I want my mom Mulder,“ she sniffed. “I just want to talk to her.”

“I know you do.” He wished she was able to. “It’s not safe.”

“I know, but I still want to. I want to make sure she’s ok.”

“We can get a message to her.”

“I want to talk to her now.”

“We’ll do it first thing Scully, I promise.” He squeezed her tightly. “You hear me?”

Scully shrugged out of his grasp. “I need to lie down,” she said, wiping her eyes.

“Ok, I’ll just uh –” He stopped as he watched his partner walk out of the bathroom, leaving him alone with the mess. He made quick work of cleaning it all up, rinsing the soiled clothes in the shower before switching off the light and joining Scully back in their bedroom. She was already back in bed, stretched out on her side facing away from him, but he knew from the hitching of her shoulders that she wasn’t asleep and she hadn’t yet stopped crying. He crossed the room in a few strides and settled down on the bed behind her. “Scully,” he whispered, reaching his hand out tentatively to rest on her hip, relieved when she didn’t push him away. “I’m sorry,” he added. “I know you want to talk to your mom, and I wish you could. I wish you didn’t have to suffer through all of this because of me.” She didn’t say anything, but then she didn’t push him away either. “If you want to go back…I’ll understand.” His heart hurt just thinking about it. “You can even tell them where you last saw me –”        

Scully turned in his arms, stopping him in his tracks. Her face scrunched up as she sobbed. “It’s his birthday today Mulder.”

There it was again, he thought to himself. The feeling of nausea returned. “I know.”

“A year old.”

Letting out a deep breath, Mulder closed the gap between them, slipping his arm around her waist. “Yeah.”

“I want him back. I want my baby back.“

“I know you do.” He stopped short of agreeing with her. In the short time that they’d been on the run, they only mentioned William briefly. It was still too soon, too raw, with neither partner wanting to hurt one another. After all, they were all that the other had right then. So instead they buried the hurt and regret and tried not to get their hopes up whenever they saw a little boy in the store, or heard a child call out “momma” or “daddy.” They knew it would never happen for them. But now it appeared that the guilt and upset was getting too much, made worse by the fact that it was now…he checked the clock to make sure…William’s first birthday.

“What have I done?”

“You did what was best,” Mulder replied, repeating the words he’d told himself over the past few weeks. “You’ve kept him safe Scully, you did what any mother would in that position.”

“I’m not a mother,” she hiccupped. “A mother wouldn’t just give up on her baby.”

“You didn’t give up on him. You’re…” he stopped himself before speaking in the past tense. William wasn’t dead, he was still very much a part of their lives. “…a great mom. We couldn’t go on like this. William was in danger, and helped him. You gave him the best start in life by loving him and caring for him, and now you’ve made sure that he’s safe and looked after.”

“He could have been placed with anyone.”

“No, no…he’s with the best people for the job. They love him Scully, I’m telling you they do. He’s their little miracle just like he’s ours.”

“We should be with him today.”

“I know, and I wish to god that we could see him just for a little bit. But I bet you he’s going to have the best day. He’ll have tons of presents – cars, trucks, blocks, probably one of those annoyingly loud musical instruments that you can get for babies – but you know he’ll be more interested in the gift box than the present itself.” Scully said nothing, simply listening as fresh tears fell. God how he wished he could take her pain away and reunite her with their son. “And he’ll have a little party with a cake, and he’ll want instant gratification so he’ll grab a huge chunk of it before they’ve even cut a slice, and he’ll smear it all over him.”

“He’s like you,” came a soft but shaky voice. “You’re just like that.”

Mulder smiled sadly. The time he shared with William was so brief, that he couldn’t even imagine his son picking up any of his traits. “Yeah, he probably has better table manners than I do.”

“What else?”

“What else?” Scully seemed to want to talk about their son, although the thought of what he might be like now was almost too painful for Mulder to consider. He kept talking though, aware that Scully needed this. “He’s just started walking,” he continued. “He took a few steps on his own for the first time about a week ago. He was so quick that by the time anyone had noticed, he’d landed back on his ass and had gone back to crawling.”

“What was his first word?”

Mulder closed his eyes, feeling his own throat tighten. “No,” he replied, and Scully looked at him quizzically. “No was his first word.” He felt himself smile, even though his heart was breaking. “He hears it a lot.”

“Just like you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, tears welling up in his eyes. “Just like me.”

“I wish we could hear him talk.”

He squeezed Scully tighter, relieved when she moved to return the embrace, settling fully in his arms. “Me too. We will do Scully, we’ll see him again one day.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Don’t give up. He’s our miracle.”

“I feel like we’ve already had our miracle. We don’t get a shot at another one.”

“He’s our son Scully. He’s got your intelligent nature, my inquisitiveness and habit for breaking the rules. There’s no way he won’t look for us. And when he does we’ll be waiting for him. This is not the end. We may not see him today, but he’ll have plenty more birthdays, and we’ll be there for him.”

“I hope so,” she replied sadly. Mulder only wished he could believe himself.

“It’ll happen.”


It was a false promise, they both knew that, but at that moment Mulder would have got Scully the moon if she’d asked for that. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry.” Mulder’s own voice broke as he spoke. “I wish you didn’t have to go through any of this. You deserve so much more. You don’t deserve to be here.”

Scully pressed her head against his chest. “I’m glad I’m with you,” she replied, making Mulder feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in the process. Everything she’d been through, and she still wanted to be with him.

“Yeah…well…you could have fooled me. You did throw up over my pants remember.”

“I’m sorry.” He detected a smile in Scully’s voice and he lowered his head, pressing a kiss to her crown. “Can I get you anything?” He knew it was a loaded question, but thankfully she didn’t say anything.  

“Can we just stay here like this?”

“Sure.” He kissed her once again, rolling onto his back and taking Scully with him. He rubbed her back soothingly, holding her until her tears finally dried and she drifted off to sleep. The next time she woke and rushed to the bathroom, he was there by her side.

Here’s a sappy little scene from the a mountain to climb verse I wrote this weekend. Takes place about seven months after the epilogue.

Derek comes home from a work conference to find his husband and their daughter sound asleep on the couch, and he has to stop to watch them for a long moment, glad to be home. Stiles is in one of his impossible contortions, his neck cranked back in a way that’s going to give him problems in a couple decades, his feet up on the coffee table, and Evie’s got her head pillowed on his round stomach, curled in tight against him.

Derek smiles faintly, finally letting his eyes rove around the rest of the room. The television screen is stuck on the Frozen dvd menu, there’s glitter all over the dining room table, and the scattering of wrappers on the coffee table around Stiles’ feet seems to indicate a binge night of epic proportions. Not as bad as he’d expected after four days away, though a faint sour note coming from the kitchen seems to point to a backlog of dishes he’ll have to get on Stiles’ case about.

Derek quietly sets down his bags, slipping off his shoes so he can pad silently around the coffee table and tuck his arms under Evie, lifting her effortlessly off the couch. He gets a little pang in his chest, remembering how she used to be small enough to tuck in the crook of his arm, though it’s quickly soothed by the way she wakes with the motion, reflexively putting her arms around his neck before her eyes have even opened. “Papa,” she mumbles. “You’re back.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

For the AU where Breha Organa lived and adopted Luke and maybe Han too; how does she react when Luke finds out that Vader's his (and Leia's) dad? For that matter, does Luke accidentally let slip to Vader that Leia's his sister? Or does Vader already know? Aaaaaaaa.

“Many thanks,” Breha says graciously to the service droid as it passes her the tea tray. She has to resist the urge to gag every time she inhales and catches the scent of bacta and antiseptic at the back of her throat. The medical frigate is largely empty, especially now that Master Calrissian and Chewbacca have departed—just Breha and her daughter and her brother, the meddroids and the pilot.

It somehow makes it all more horrible, the empty corridor, the silence only punctured by the whine of the engines.

She has a horror of medcenters, from a bout of Zhysul fever that nearly killed her as a youngling. Quarantine and needles and heat boiling in her brain, dehydration so severe she couldn’t even cry. (Breha mostly remembers because thirty-odd years later, Leia had an infection—minor, they’d only had to take her tonsils out in the end—but Breha had nearly plunged the whole medcenter into chaos over it. A queen out of her mind with fear and worry and love was…less than effective.)

But it isn’t Leia this time. It is Leia’s brother, his lips thin and pinched-white as he tests out the joints of his new hand, one by one. Leia is pacing the small room, chewing at her nails—and that, more than anything sends a spike of panic through Breha.

“What’s wrong?” Breha demands, setting down the tea tray in order to send both of them pointed looks. Leia stopped biting her nails at six, when Breha had the governess paint her nails with bitter cuorm juice every morning. (The last time Breha found her like that was just before her first day in the senate, when she commed from her suite on Coruscant with spots of blood at her fingertips.)

Luke and Leia are staring blankly, and it occurs to Breha—a little belatedly—that there are a great many things wrong right now. She sighs, turns to Leia. “Tell me, princesa,” she commands.

Leia exhales. (It’s not often that Breha asks Leia to acknowledge her authority; Leia is her daughter and Breha would rather be her mother than her queen. But sometimes it is necessary her rank be felt.) “Luke was—he was—you should tell her,” Leia says to Luke. “He told you, you should…”

Luke is still flexing his fingers, one by one, almost meditatively. “Darth Vader is Anakin Skywalker,” he says, and his voice is terrible, amused and full of anger, anguish, all at once. “Darth Vader is—our father.”

Breha laughs. “What? No, I told you, Anakin Skywalker died with the other Jedi when Order 66 was carried out. Bail said he died defending the temple—“

“He didn’t,” Luke says bluntly. He still hasn’t lifted his gaze from the new hand, though his mouth is turned down at the corners.

“Who told you this, Luke?” she asks gently.

“He did. Vader.”

Leia makes a frustrated noise before Breha can even formulate a response. “He could have lied to you,” Leia says. “He could have….tricked you, or misled you, there’s no reason to believe him!”

“I believe him because it’s true!” Luke snaps, his gaze flying to her. “I know he wasn’t lying, I know, the—same way I knew you were my sister, the same way I knew about the Death Star. He is our father.”

“My father—my father is Bail Organa,” Leia says, though her voice is shaking. “You know that too.”

Breha is dimly aware of the room tilting, and Leia crying, “Nanay!” as she falls to her knees. Breha is still blinking down at her hands (strange, suddenly foreign objects) when Leia kneels down beside her, eyes wide. “Mother, are you all right? Should I get a meddroid?”

“I was just a little dizzy, let me breathe.”

“You’re pale, shaking. Let me get a droid—”

Jendeh yo ta entende,” she says in Acano, reaching out and cupping Leia’s face in her hands. “He hurt you. If you are his daughter, why would he hurt you? Wouldn’t he—a Jedi would know, a Jedi…He sat at…he sat at our table on Alderaan, Leia. He made Bail laugh, with some joke about a senator. He killed your father, Leia. He took Alderaan from us.”

Leia’s hand comes up and covers hers, warmly. “I know. I know.”

Breha looks to Luke. “I remember Anakin Skywalker. Darth Vader cannot be him.”

Luke looks away.

Singin' In The Rain || Tobastian
  • Sebastian: sat up against his pillows, leaning against his boyfriend. His eyes were fixed on the television screen in front of him as he watched Singin' in the Rain. This movie had always cheered him up, ever since he was little and he would watch it with his mom after a rough day at school. Even though he was still in a lot of pain, there were moments when the movie could take him away from that. He had snapped out of the plot for a moment when he felt thirsty. He reached over to grab his cup of water, but his hand was weak and he was having trouble grasping it.
In the Devil's Arms

Anonymous said:

Hey! I just wanted to request a fic where the reader is being sacrificed as a virgin (or something along those lines) to lucifer and he shows up and smut smut smut? Please and thank you!!!

-  I hope this is okay nonnie =) I’m thinking of maybe writing a part two based on this imagine if you guys want. If not, I’ll pass XD Let me know.

~ Charlie


Author: Charlie

Character: Lucifer

Words: 2,880

Warnings: Language. The reader’s been kidnapped in the first lil bit. Hella-long fic, I am so sorry.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

If you'd please do GoM+ Kiyoshi + Imayoshi + Hanamiya when S/O gives them a flower crown to wear every Friday with them for "Flower Crown Friday"! (I do this so I thought I'd be cute)! Thank you! 💜💜

SO CUTE.  omg. you do this? can i be your friend?

Kuroko: He stood by your shoe locker after classes ended, reading a novel to pass the time as he waited for you to appear. 

When you did, he immediately put his book away and turned expectantly towards you. “It is Friday.” He stated in his even tone. 

“It is.” You agreed, as you used his arm to steady yourself while slipping your outdoor shoes on. Once you were ready to leave, he took your hand in a light but firm grip, and the both of you left the school grounds. The minute you were past the school gates, you unzipped your bag and pulled out two flower crowns. Kuroko dutifully took one of them and placed it on his head, then reached over to adjust yours. 

“Perfect.” He smiled slightly, then took your hand back in his and continued walking. “Would you be interested in watching me play two-on-two with Kagami-kun, Kawahara-kun and Fukuda-kun?”

You nodded eagerly. “Of course!”

It was always fun to watch Kuroko play basketball, but more so when he had a flower crown attached to his head (It had taken the collective efforts of yourself, Kagami, Kawahara and Fukuda to pin the crown to his hair securely, because he stubbornly refused to take it off while playing, and looked very upset when it had slipped off in the middle of an intricate play. Everyone had pooled together any clips or hair ties they possessed, for the cause). 

Kiyoshi: “Teppei!” You sang from the doorway, when you went to visit his classroom during the break. 

His head immediately turned to you, expression bright. “___-chan!” He then registered the crown on your head, eyes widening understandingly. “Ah, it’s Friday, isn’t it?” Dutifully, he walked over to you and lowered his head. 

“It looks like you’re bowing to me.” You laughed, then gently nestled the crown in his hair. “There.”

“Thank you, ___-chan.” Kiyoshi said, then leaned over to peck your cheek. “Hopefully I don’t get yelled at for wearing it in class, again.”

Worried, you gripped his hand, huffing with displeasure at his stubborn tendencies. “Teppei, I’ve told you, you don’t need to wear it in class. I don’t want you to get into trouble for something like this.”

Squeezing your hand back, he pulled you into his chest for a hug, chuckling when someone in his classroom whistled at the two of you. “But it’s important to you. And so it’s important to me. Plus,” he pulled back to give you a wide grin, “I think I look cute with this on.”

Kise: “OOOOI!” Kise waved largely, arms barely avoiding hitting people in the face. “___-CCHI! OVER HERE!” 

Spotting the obstructive figure that people in the school courtyard were glaring at, you trudged on over and fixed him with an unimpressed look. “We do have phones for a reason.”

He ignored you completely, opting instead to cup your face in his hands, cooing over you. “Aw, my ___-cchi looks so cute when they’re annoyed. Especially when you’re wearing a flower crown. I want to take a picture!” You shot a hand out to stop him before he could reach for his phone.

“S-stop it! Or I won’t give you yours!” You tried to say authoritatively, though that little stutter took a good chunk of power out of your sentence. 

Nonetheless, Kise backed off immediately, still grinning brightly. “Okay, now give it to me.”

Grumbling to yourself, you pulled your bag forward and fished around in there, eventually locating the flower crown. “Here.” You tossed it at him as if it were a frisbee. 

Quickly, and very fluidly, he ran backwards and jumped, easily gripping the crown in his hand while in midair. He landed, carefully put the crown on his head, and then struck a pose for you. “How do I look?”

Smirking, you walked past him, making sure to tweak his nose as you did. “Precious.” You deadpanned, but made certain to intertwine your fingers with his, leading him away from the school and off to an impromptu date. 

Midorima: “Again?” Midorima sighed as you presented him with the crown while the two of you were walking home. 

“It is Friday, Shin.” You said, smiling. 

“And every Friday, I tell you that a flower crown would not suit me, nanodayo.” He countered, lifting his free hand to carefully caress one of the petals. “It… uh, it looks better when you wear it.”

You shook your head and let go of his hand, jumping up on the low brick wall that separated the sidewalk and some preserved greenery. Once you’d steadied yourself, you took advantage of the fact that Midorima was distracted as he scolded you for doing something reckless and plopped the crown on his head, like you had to do every Friday. “There.”

Midorima blinked, then felt his head, fingers bumping into the metal wiring holding the crown together. “___!” He groaned, but left the crown there, as he did every Friday. “Fine. Can we just go home now?”

“My home or your home?” You said, slipping your hand back into his, pleased with your previous actions. 

He scoffed. “Mine, of course. I want to share with you that new Medical Anthology that I picked up earlier this week. I feel you will find it as interesting as I did. I read that…” He spoke, without pause, all the way home, about chromosomes and genes, and hereditary diseases, completely forgetting about the crown on his head. 

Aomine: You sat on a bench in the gymnasium, watching your boyfriend dribble past his teammates in the mock game that they were playing during practice. You were waiting for him to finish practice, so that the two of you could walk home together, maybe even get something to eat if the both of you were in the mood. 

Once practice did finish, Aomine walked over to you with his usual blasé attitude after his shower, beads of water still hanging from his bangs. “Thanks for waiting, let’s go.” He said, picking up his bag and tossing it over his shoulder, then securely taking your hand in his before walking to the exit. 

It was decided that the two of you would stop at Maji Burger to eat. Once he sat down and dug into his food, you leaned over the table and dropped the crown onto his head. 

“Haaah?” He said, surprised, waving away your arms. “What? What is– oh. Friday.”

You sat back down and put your own crown on your head before unwrapping your burger and taking a big bite. “Mhm!”

Sighing, he looked around warily to make sure no one he knew could see him, then went back to his burger. “The things I do for you, I swear.”

“You’re the best boyfriend.” You assured him, grinning with amusement at his exasperation. 

Murasakibara: It was after school, and Murasakibara didn’t have practice that day. “I hate practice, ___-chin.” He sighed, digging around in his plastic bag for something to munch on. “But when I don’t have practice, I’m bored. But I really do hate practice. I just need something to do. Do you understand, ___-chin?” Every time he didn’t have practice, Murasakibara spent a good while trying to justify his conflicting feelings over basketball, to you.

Frankly, it was a good source of amusement for you, and an interesting way to pass the time while the two of you hunted for something to do once classes were over. School work was obviously out of the question. 

You two walked around town for a bit, looking at pretty window displays. Once Murasakibara was done with his spiel of justification, you took his crown out from your bag. “Can you bend down a bit, Atsushi?” You asked, already standing on your tiptoes, arms reaching as high as they could go. 

Murasakibara turned away from a particularly nice cake shop display to look at you inquisitively, but bent down right away when he saw the crown. Once it was safely on his head, Murasakibara went back to looking at nice displays, pointing out some outfits that he thought would look hilarious on his teammates and you. 

Akashi: The minute he spotted you after school, he smiled softly and pointed to his head. 

Weaving through the throngs of people trying to make the fastest way out of the school, you eventually managed to grasp hands with Akashi and exhale deeply. “There are so many people at our school.” You commented, sighing. 

“There are.” Akashi agreed, and led you towards the shoe lockers. While you put your shoes on, he made little hums of impatience. 

“What’s wrong, Seijuurou?” You asked as soon as you righted yourself. 

He pointed loosely at his head again, and his mouth twisted downwards. “My crown, you haven’t given it to me yet.”

You fell into a bout of laughter, resting your forehead on Akashi’s shoulder for support. “I don’t understand why you want to wear it so badly!”

At that very moment, Reo-nee walked past them, making his way outdoors. “It’s because he thinks it gives him powers.” He supplied dryly, not even stopping to make sure you two heard the sentence properly. 

You glanced questioningly at Akashi, who was glaring at Reo’s retreating back. “I do not.” He stated. “I just like being associated with you.”

Hayama popped up, and had apparently been there for the entire exchange, because he grinned wildly. “That’s what gives him the powers!”

“An extra ten laps for you.” Akashi instructed, lifting his chin to glare doubly at Hayama, who blanched, but then backed away with a playful smile, when he saw Akashi’s pink cheeks, and how he was trying to hide them from you.

Hanamiya: “No.” 



You sighed, feeling slightly defeated as Hanamiya stared you down, not even sparing a glance at the flower crown in your hand. “You’d look goo–”

No, ___, no. I don’t wanna look like an idiot.” He countered, leaning against the wall in the hallway. 

“Are you saying that I look like an idiot?” You asked, idea springing into mind. You stared up at him with an exaggerated amount of hurt in your eyes. 

He rolled his own eyes. “Like that’s going to work on me. You look fine. It suits you. But I have a reputation. A flower crown would not do it any favours. I tell you this every week.”

Frustrated, you shoved the crown near his face. “But every week, you end up wearing it with me. So why don’t we just cut the foreplay out and just get to it?” You shook the petals for effect.

Now a look, something close to a pout, slowly took over his face. “How come you never say that for–”

You cut him off immediately. “That’s different. You know that.”

“But thi–”


“Oh come on, ___, it wou–”

No.” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

Groaning loudly, as if he were being stabbed in the gut, he snatched the crown from you and jammed it onto his head. “Damn it, fine, I’ll wear the stupid-ass crown, but you owe me.” Grabbing your hand, he pulled quickly pulled you down the hallway. “We’re gonna leave through the back. Let’s go.”

Imayoshi: “So please, tell me again why you think me wearing this crown will be beneficial?” Imayoshi was using his patronizing voice. 

You made your best serious face, ignoring the basketball practice going on in the background. Imayoshi had pulled you to the side before he started his own practice, so as to speak with you (you had a feeling he just wanted to tease you about the crown again). 

“It’s something nice to do. It will look nice on you. A-and…” You counted off the reasons with your fingers, but then faltered. As quickly as you could, you turned your back to him and pulled your list out from your uniform sweater pocket. 

You’d worked hard the night before to create a list of reasons for him to wear the crown. He always wanted a reason, and every week, you faltered a bit. Sometimes he would feel bad for you and just put the crown on. Other times, he’d poke fun at you relentlessly before walking away with a kiss. Not this week. This week, you would win. So you quickly scanned over the list again, then stuffed it back into your pocket and turned back to him. He was smiling, as if he was hugely amused by your actions. 

“The flowers will make you seem less intimidating. It’ll accentuate… how manly you are? It, uh, it symbolizes love in many cultures…” You trailed off, unsure of how good your list was now that you were reciting it out loud. 

Imayoshi smirked, tugging you and the flower crown forward. “Love, hmm?” He asked, face close to yours. When your breath hitched, he pulled back with a grin, taking the crown with him. “Alright then.” He put the crown on, patted your cheek, and then jogged into the middle of the gym, joining practice. 

spank-the-villain  asked:

Imagine Bucky getting highlights, of whatever colour.

Bucky and Natasha are sitting in the hard little chairs in the mall food court, working their way through a extra large order of fries, orange chicken, and Frosties. They have a standing date for this every Saturday afternoon (barring intervening Avengers business) to eat junk food, gossip about Steve and Sam, and practice being in a crowd.

(“I used to have such a hard time doing this too,” Natasha confesses on one of their first outings. “But it’s worth it, learning to let your guard down a little, I promise.”)

Natasha is kicking at the legs of Bucky’s chair just to be obnoxious, and when he glances up from his plate to tell her to knock it off, he catches a glimpse of a girl with fuschia hair disappearing into the crowd, and stands up so fast to watch her go that he almost knocks over the table.

“What on earth?” Natasha snaps, when he sits back down. Her eyes have gone narrow and lips thin, and Bucky feels a little bad for putting her on edge, but he’s also got a fluttery feeling in his chest that he’s starting to recognize as excitement.

“Does Clint still do hair?” He asks. “I think I wanna do my hair.”

Natasha stares at him for a minute, then reaches out to grab the Frosty cup. “No more sugar for you,” she says. “But yes, I think he does.”


He doesn’t end up going for pink, though he’s sorely tempted for a while. Instead, he layers in chunks of midnight blue, dark in his already dark hair, but brilliant in the right light. They make his eyes brighter, he thinks, finger combing it into a ponytail, and he can’t help the smile that stretches over his face.

“You look nice,” Natasha says, coming up behind him and kissing him on the cheek. “Want to go back to the mall tomorrow and scare some teenagers?”

“Do I ever,” Bucky laughs, and tosses his head to watch the color flashing in the mirror. “I’ll fit right in.”