the way she's sitting

Cabin in the Woods

olicity || ao3 || explicit || smut || 993 || more fics

summary: prompt: summer vacation - Oliver and Felicity decide to vacation in a private cabin in the woods // other hiatus fics
a/n: my goal for this hiatus is to make every prompt into a smut fic. we shall see how it goes. 


“Are we going to die out here?”

“What?”

“Okay, no offense, Oliver, but when we decided no more islands and tropical places, I didn’t think you were going to take me hiking into the middle of a forest.”

“I would be worried if I hadn’t found us a cabin on a property, full of other cabins, and families. We’re going to be fine,” he promised.

Felicity might have been a little paranoid, but she was born and raised in the city. A forest seemed terrifying. What if there were bears or wolves? They were awfully close to the Canadian border.

“There’s a hot tub,” he added, adjusting his backpack on his shoulders, “And our cabin is really private.”

“I expect you to be naked and in that hot tub as soon as it warms up,” she said, walking a bit faster.

He chuckled, “I figured as much.”

They climbed the rest of the way towards their cabin. The Hilltop Hideaway. Might as well been called “Three Hilltops and a Mountain to get here.” She grumbled quietly as they entered the log cabin, though, she had to admit that the place was gorgeous and quiet. Everything was wood from the floors to the ceilings, but it was beautiful. In general, it was a small building, but it was small in a cozy kind of way. Felicity dropped her bags and flopped down on the couch in front of a large stone fireplace.

“We’re lighting that tonight,” she said.

“Of course,” Oliver leaned down and kissed her forehead, “I’ll get the hot tub going.”

Keep reading

[ Kyra finds herself sitting among the bare-leaf trees of the Natural Memorial far more than she’d like to admit. Not for its purpose, to mourn a lost relative – no, simply for a piece of damn quiet, unhindered solemnity. She’d read all the notes tied to the branches and sticks in this place, laughed herself silly at some of them, as if putting words on a page satiated the emptying hunger of loss. It was pathetic, to miss the weak. Kyra spared perhaps a few minutes, approximately twenty, to the fates of her parents per week. That was all the time they – and honestly, any other human being – deserved within the space of her mind. ]

[ There’s a rather delicate and attractive ribbon tied around the trunk of one of the slimmer trees. She’s been eyeing the pretty thing for a few minutes now, and impulse seizes her. The bow unknotted, the fabric in her palm, she relishes in the nasty feeling of destroying a memorial offering and ties the ribbon into a headband, pushing her untamed, curly locks away from her face. A rustle of footsteps alerts her to another’s presence, and she turns to them slowly with a blank yet somehow unamused expression.

Can’t you see I’m heavily, inconsolably grieving?

5

TBT the time Paul McCartney sang “Michelle” in the White House and the President of the United States was like a high school teenager with a crush.[x] 

Some Thoughts: Storm in the Room

With the reactions post-Storm in the Room, I feel that Steven doesn’t get enough credit. Going to Rose’s Room, searching for answers, and comfort even though he didn’t know that yet, Steven wasn’t setting out to create a perfect mother or project himself the ideal version of Rose. He starts, the moment he enters the room, by saying he knew it wasn’t real.

Everything Steven did with Cloud Rose, everything that happened between them, were reasonable assumptions we could make of Rose. And this is because the Rose we saw was from Steven’s expectations of what she would be like. And Steven was wary about idealising Rose the way the Crystal Gems did. He says this explicitly several times. Also, Steven’s view of Rose was tempered early on by Greg’s stories of her. 

So the Rose we see isn’t a sad Steven’s attempt at finding the perfect mother figure. Steven’s attempt at a reasonable and believable portrayal of Rose deserves to be acknowledged. Had it not been the case, the Rose we saw could not have evoked the feelings she did. It’s because of the depth Steven introduced to her from all his memories of her that it was made possible.

And what I want to talk about in this post, is how the images of Rose reflect which narratives he’s channeling as he tries to piece together, quite literally, the image of Rose.

The first appearance of Cloud Rose shows her with messy hair, parts of it stick up and around her. Her facial expressions are often wiggly, for lack of better word, and she shows her thighs a lot more than in the succeeding scenes, either in cross-sitting or running. 

This Rose is goofy and funny and casual. And it’s the Rose whom Greg’s stories have constructed in Steven’s memories. 

The same scenes we see Rose hitch up her dress in the same way (such as when she’s reading books with Greg on the bed) or similarly goofy, like stopping a ferris wheel with her bare hands, she’s with Greg. 

Even the line Steven takes from her video in Lion 3: Straight to Video, about “every X being unique and beautiful” is shot in Greg’s presence. Without realising it, Steven is remembering this image of Rose.

And she cares about Steven. She engages in his interests. It’s not so far a stretch because some episodes back, Bismuth was willing to do the same thing. Rose was a fun person. There’s a running joke that she would have loved cheesy and corny jokes. She probably told a few in her day. 

She probably wasn’t always as poised as presented in her portrait. Greg remembers the Rose he changed, when she was starting to understand human beings in earnest and come to terms with how they could exist with gems on the same level. 

Rose at that point still didn’t want to talk about her past, and Greg never made her. So Greg and Rose made new memories and didn’t dwell on the old. And those memories were filled with fun and laughter and love.

The moment sobers when it is Rose not Steven, who gestures the latter to sit down and stare at the expanse of clouds.

And we should know that what we’re about to see means something has changed. The first hint is that Rose’s body language changes. She sits perfectly straight, even though she’s cross-sitting the way she was earlier. And we don’t see her legs anymore. Her hair neatens and her expression calms.

What’s more, her hands assume the position Garnet did in Here Comes A Thought in Mindful Education. And that emphasises the kind of role Rose plays in this moment. Steven felt Rose taught Garnet how to manage her feelings, because it was a motherly thing to do. In a very Steven Universe fashion, the music changes from the bright xylophone to a quiet piano music, which is the mark of another Crystal Gem, Pearl. 

And when we go back to the senior Crystal Gems and their image of Rose, it is exactly the way she’s presented.

Cloud Rose is a huge presence, with Steven a small child by her side. She speaks deliberately, every word is one of wisdom. She is magnanimous and comforting at the same time. 

She tells him, “But we’ve been together the entire time.” And it brings back the idea of how our parents are always with us, and a part of us, because one way or another they’ve left a mark on us.

At the same time though, the similarities of the scenes between this moment and the one at Rose’s Fountain in An Indirect Kiss, lead to the same end.

Rose is viewed as a godly icon, very distant from Steven. She’s not sitting beside him, playing with him, kneeling on the ground anymore. He looks up to her, and he can’t reach her.

In both times, he realises she’s not really there. That he talked to the statue of Rose in the fountain, confided his deepest insecurities about how he didn’t know how to feel about her when everyone else did, parallels the empty image on his phone.

And it segues into the next scene perfectly.

Because Steven doesn’t know how to feel about Rose. Now, he’s more certain than ever that he doesn’t even know who she is. The Rose we see at the end has a blank face, because Steven can’t project anything on it. He’s thinking of Pink Diamond’s shattering, Bismuth, and the Rebellion, and all the people hurt by them.

When he sees Rose, he can no longer see himself, which is why her eyes, one of the facial features most like Steven’s, (next to his nose) are nowhere to be seen.

And this Rose is distant, because there’s no mitigating narrative linking him to her. In the other scenes, the room remained the same, because these stories he was told of Rose and who she was firmly rooted the first two Roses as part of the real Rose’s identity.

This Rose is foreign, because nowhere in those narratives did Steven think it possible to for her to do the things he learned she did.

And in that moment he begins to doubt. 

Because he can no longer see the image of his mother, he doesn’t know where he himself stands. A huge part of his identity is being Rose’s son. What happens when the “Rose” part becomes fuzzy, blurry, and unintelligible?

What happens to the Steven?

Notice that this Rose is silent. She offers no response to the accusations Steven hurls at her, about all the people she hurt and her act of leaving them all behind. 

At this point, we see the part of Steven that understands Rose is gone. That he’s never going to get these answers and there won’t be an explanation coming from her.

There are some things he’ll never get to hear about, some memories he’ll never know, some experiences he’ll never share with her.

And it’s sad and disheartening and lonely. In losing his idea of Rose, Steven loses a part of his identity. Such that he felt it would be better if he denounced Rose, cutting off the part of himself he didn’t want to think about: That he was created just to fix her mistakes.

It’s then that we see Rose’s face for the first time since we’ve entered the paradigm of Rose-through-Steven’s eyes. Not Greg’s, not the Crystal Gem’s. Because these new things he’s learned about Rose are things the others would never have known without him. How else would they have heard the Diamond’s song of mourning? How would they have known Bismuth was there all along?

And the things Rose said in the tape were meant for Steven, in a space only Steven could find.

The Rose speaking to Steven at the end is the Rose who’s already spoken to Steven directly before, through the tape.

A lot of negative reaction has been given to this moment, because it feels as though the tape absolves Rose of everything she’s done. It doesn’t and I don’t feel that was the point.

The point of her saying that, was to reaffirm Steven’s belief in Steven. To show that it wasn’t about Rose anymore, that Steven’s birth wasn’t about Rose but about him.

And it’s striking that’s the only time we see her face again. Because immediately after, Steven hugs her, and her face is obscured. 

That’s Steven’s recognition that he’s never going to hear any other words straight from his mother for him. He understands and he realises that nonetheless, Rose is exerting a presence in his life. He really is always with her and never alone. 

The past few episodes and everything leading up to them were about Steven’s realising his mother was still an individual, one who could made mistakes and rash, selfish decisions. 

He was afraid that upon realising his mother could be a selfish individual, could do huge selfish things that affected thousands of lives, he feared the act of his birth, the most personal thing about him, was meant to serve her self-interests alone too. He needed a concrete and tangible answer, which was what prompted him to go to the room. 

At the end of the episode, he didn’t think that anymore. He knows he has a lot of work ahead in figuring out Rose’s place in his life, but the lingering doubt of the very foundation of his existence is gone.

And because of that, he finally feels comfortable letting her go.

🎈 ARIES PIXIE ~

She is a little fireball of delight, laughter, noise, and excitement. This little treasure is loud, excited, fun… and  you know when she is quiet she is up to no good. She has a bit of a temper, so whatever you do, do not put her in a cage. She needs freedom to fly. When she gets mad, her wings set alight. Her pixie dust is blood red. You will likely come home to a messy house, she loves getting into everything


👗 TAURUS PIXIE ~

She is a little earth princess and she will enjoy as much time as possible out in your garden to dance amongst the flowers. She makes music when she flies and will be found getting into your make up and beauty products. She would love a home filled with candles and fragrance. And the little pixie loves cookies. She loves to relax with you on your days off. Get her a hammock to sleep in so she can hang it between two sunflowers


🍒 GEMINI PIXIE ~

She is a playful and mischievous little pixie who is here in a moment and vanishes in the next. She is a clever creature who will be found flittering amongst your bookshelf and tip toeing through the encyclopedia. She will help you with your homework and enjoys going to school with you, hiding in your pencil case and listening in on the learning. She knows how to make you laugh and giggles as she flies. Her pixie dust is the colour of teal



🌙 CANCER PIXIE ~

This cuddly little pixie is a delicate delight who loves cosying up underneath your blankets and sleeping most of the time. She prefers to stay indoors and likes to flitter around your photographs. When she cries, she sprays a lilac perfume, but her laughter is a melody, and she is happiest when surrounded by your whole family. She has a way with babies and likes to sit on their nose and play. This little pixie needs a lot of affection and to be reminded she is safe and loved. She really fears being abandoned. Her pixie dust is the colour of light purple


🎀 LEO PIXIE ~

She is very playful, a flittery childlike pixie who requires lots of love, kisses and cuddles. She will become fiercely protective of you in times of danger.  She will lose her sunlight without adequate devotion and affection. She has a bright yellow aura and glows in the dark. She may be found rummaging around in your precious jewellery. Her pixie dust is the colour of the gold. She will love playing with your pets and giggle her heart out around children. You will need to remind her everyday how beautiful she is


💭 VIRGO PIXIE ~

This flowery little pixie petal is very clever and loves nature. She will need lots of time outside amongst the wildlife and also loves cosying up with a book. She is a very talented pix and fixes anything you have broken. She also has a great knowledge of medicine and will be of tremendous help when you get ill. She needs a lot of reassurance because sometimes her anxiety can get the best of her. Better for somebody who likes to keep their room very tidy. Her pixie dust is the colour of lime green


💋 LIBRA PIXIE ~

This precious little pixie is charming, cute, and very friendly. She will need somebody by her side at most times and may get scared or sad when she is left alone for too long. She will be found getting amongst your make up, beauty products, and she loves to be read to - especially Disney fairytales. She makes beautiful sweet music whenever she flies. Her best friend is Cupid. Her pixie dust is bright fuchsia 


🦇 SCORPIO PIXIE ~

She is a solitary and moody pixie who needs a lot of alone time and space to fly away into her own world. She will be a lifelong healer and devotee to those who love and respect her, and she will teach you more about the hidden secrets and magic of the universe than any other! She may be found flittering away in your journals or secret safes and enjoys heirlooms. She will also enjoy the night and prefer to stay awake in the dark. She likes to sit near crystals. Her pixie dust is bright purple.


🍓 SAGITTARIUS PIXIE ~

She is a fun, frivolous, and funny pixie who enjoys traveling with you and sleeping on a globe. She loves to tip toe along the countries in the atlas and enjoys watching documentaries with you. She needs a lot of freedom to fly and flitter amongst flowers and nature. Good for a person who has a puppy - she loves dogs. Perfect for a frequent traveler or a backpacker. She knows a few different languages. Her pixie dust is the orange of Jupiter. She is a lucky charm


🦄 CAPRICORN PIXIE

She is a dainty little creature who likes to keep busy and occupied. She would prefer a home that is in order and will be found sitting on the edge of the clock hands bouncing as the minutes tick by. She will help you with your homework and always stay up later than you so you are protected while you sleep. She likes to think herself as your parent. And take her out in the snow.. she is a snow angel. She has a halo ring around her like the rings of Saturn. Her pixie dust is sparkly silver


🌈AQUARIUS PIXIE ~

She is a clever little creature who enjoys swimming in chemistry sets and flittering around your textbooks. She likes the warmth of the laptop and likes to sit on top of your iPhone. She has a great knowledge of the world and can answer anything you inquire. The pixie has trouble sleeping and has some strange domestic habits. You’ll never have to use power again - she has her own electricity. Her pixie dust is baby blue


🐚 PISCES PIXIE ~

She is a water baby pixie who needs frequent time around the ocean and see her mermaid friends. She will frequently go missing flying in the direction of her daydreams but bring back a well of mystical and enchanting stories. Lots of love and reassurance required. She sleeps often and will often be found in slumber under your pillow. Her pixie dust is lilac and turquoise. When she flies, you can hear the sound of harps. If you can’t find her - check her bed

Killian Jones, the person who knows and understands Emma Swan better than ANYBODY ELSE, knew she would react the exact way that she did. He understands what his ‘leaving’ would do to her. How it would hit her and what she would do (remember how he asked her not to put her armor back on when she was leaving him in the Underworld? He KNOWS her).

Killian Jones isn’t thinking less of Emma, and I don’t think it’s fair for anybody else to do so either.

4

The High Lords (+ High Lady) of Prythian: Solar Courts

“There are different kinds of darkness,” Rhys said. I kept my eyes shut. “There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful.” I pictured each. “There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.”

His brown skin and hair were kissed with gold, as if the sunrise had permanently gilded them, but his upswept eyes, rich brown of freshly tilled fields, were his lovliest feature. 

My equal in every way. She would wear my crown, sit on a throne beside mine. Never sidelined, never designated to breeding and parties and child-rearing. My queen. 

Spell-Cleaver. That was his title. She surveyed him with her usual disdain. But Helion gave her the same bow he’d offered me—though his smile was edged with enough sensuality that even my heart raced a bit. No wonder the Lady of Autumn hadn’t stood a chance.

Alex dies first, when she’s about 70 or so. It’s sudden and it’s painful and it makes Kara feel like she’ll never be able to breathe properly again. But she manages to pull herself together, for Maggie’s sake. Because the pain Kara feels, Maggie feels it, too.

Maggie’s also 70, but in perfect health, and forced to live in a house by herself. Her and Alex never had children (Kara was enough of a handful), and the small home she built with Alex has never felt bigger or more empty.

So Kara moves in, despite the fact that it’s a longer commute to work, despite the fact she still looks like she’s 35 and doesn’t really have to live with a 70 year old. But Maggie’s a young 70. She gardens and she volunteers and she’s in all sorts of clubs that her and Kara bond over. They talk about Alex constantly, the way her voice sounded, how being in her arms felt like home, how she’d probably laugh at them now and call them Grey Gardens. They miss her, but they miss her together. And sometimes, it feels like Alex is in the room, manifested in the love they feel for her.

Before Kara knows it, Maggie’s 87 and her dementia is worsening. Kara has no option but to put her in a nursing home. It takes weeks and weeks of research, but she finds a nice, quiet place where the staff are gentle and always smiling. And the staff, they love Kara. They tell her constantly how amazing she is, visiting her ‘mother’ every day for hours and hours at a time.

Slowly but surely, Maggie stops remembering Kara. She lights up whenever she sees her, but always needs to ask her name. It hurts Kara more than she ever thought it would, but she still comes back day after day.

Because whenever Kara sees her, Maggie tells stories about a woman she thinks she once knew, a woman with bright shining eyes and a smile that could save the world, a woman who was brave and funny and who loved her sister more than anything. Kara never grows tired of Maggie’s stories.

Just before her 95th birthday, Maggie takes a turn. The nurses tell Kara to prepare for the worst, that it could be days or weeks, and so Kara sits by Maggie’s side for a week and two days, not once leaving the nursing home (the nurses agreed to look the other way). She sits by Maggie’s side and she holds her hand until Maggie takes her last breaths. She doesn’t leave the room until the nurses escort her out.

And it’s only then, once Maggie’s finally gone, that Kara feels like she’s truly lost Alex. She’s lost her sister. She’s lost her best friend. She knows it’s time.

Kara goes to the DEO and informs them of a safety deposit box hidden in one of the back rooms. They retrieve it, and inside there’s a vial of liquid kryptonite, a sedative, and a will filled with instructions on what is to happen next.

She passes quietly, peacefully, on her own terms, having lived a fulfilling life. She’s laid to rest as Kara Danvers, right beside her sister, a red cape draped over her coffin, her family’s insignia on her tombstone.

And while the world mourns Supergirl, nobody mourns Kara Danvers. Because the two people who loved her the most are finally reunited with her, somewhere among the stars.

share my heart

A/N: i was forced at gunpoint tonight to write a s4 drabble about bellarke realizing how the other feels about them. Rated T. WC: 1455.


It’s quiet.

Somehow, quiet is always around Bellamy. It’s like he wears it on his shoulders, along with all the pain and hurt and guilt. She doesn’t know if he’s even aware he projects it. All she knows is when she’s sitting with him like she is tonight, sorting meat packages into piles for storage for Alpha Station’s five years weathering out the storm, everything just feels calmer.

“Pass me the checklist,” Bellamy rumbles, nudging her hand with his. It’s the first thing either of them have said for the past half hour.

She obliges, and he squints at it.

“We’ve got to sort those.” He points. Clarke glances around. “Into different kinds of meat. We forgot to do that.”

“Then we have to do it again,” she exhales, and rakes a hand through her hair, nails digging into her own scalp. That will take another twenty minutes at least. Heavy frustration washes over her in a wave. There’s too much to do. Too many small details to iron out. “There’s not enough time.”

She hears him taking a deep breath— it’s no secret that they’re both counting down the minutes. But when he speaks, his voice is even. “There’ll be plenty of time soon enough. Five years, to be exact.”

She looks up, finds him watching her, dark eyes unreadable, and nods, her throat still feeling tight.

They resume sorting, but this time, it’s his shoulders that are drawn tight, and Clarke feels terrible right then for reminding him how little time they had, as if he weren’t already thinking about it every moment of the day. She scrambles for something to say to distract him. “What do you think you’ll do?”

Bellamy looks up, quirks up a brow.

She clarifies. “What do you think you’ll do with those five years?”

Keep reading

There are three non-art students that Lardo lets into her studio.  

She never really invited Shitty.  He just showed up one day, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, said he was curious what she did when she wasn’t managing a team full of hooligans.  Lardo let him in.  She figured he wouldn’t stick around, or if he did, she could kick him out for trying to make suggestions, or for disrupting her carefully orchestrated mess.  It’s still surprising to her how quickly she got used to him being there.  He talked a lot, of course.  It’s Shitty.  But it was more questions than rambles.  It was him asking about her work and her techniques and about what she enjoyed about art.  It should have been annoying, someone cluttering up her space and talking while she was working.  Some days she did have to issue a gag order or threaten to kick him out if he didn’t shut up.  But nothing beat her creative block like talking with Shitty about her projects.  And she could always count on him to be with her at 3 AM the morning of a gallery showing, carefully applying glitter and sequins.

Jack she did invite.  A lot of the other guys on the team had places to go to get away from hockey, outside friends from classes and student orgs.  But as her frog year went along, she realized that Jack didn’t.  He spent his time in the Haus and in class and with the team.  She was in his room one day when she uncovered his camera, and they had a conversation about photography that led to talking about art mediums and about defining art.  Jack didn’t have a whole lot to contribute when they got more philosophical, but it put the idea in Lardo’s head to tell him to swing by her studio.  Whenever he was there, he worked quietly on his stuff while she worked on hers, and sometimes they talked, and sometimes he watched, but mostly they just enjoyed the quiet.  Lardo would introduce him to some of her friends that swung by, and most of them got a kick out of Jack Zimmermann sitting in her tiny studio.  But Lardo liked it.  And when she seriously suggested that he try out some art classes, maybe a photography class or two, he said he’d give it a shot.

Nursey came to Lardo’s studio the first time to bring her coffee on an all-night bender mid-way through second semester junior year.  She was sitting on the floor with printouts haphazardly spread out in front of her.  She was trying to work on her thesis proposal, but she mostly wanted to bang her head against the wall.  Nursey, who was always a little too nosy for his own good, glanced at her papers as Lardo venmo-ed him, and the grimace on his face made Lardo defensive.  “Dude, why aren’t you using headings?” Nursey asked.  “It’ll make it easier to organize and easier to read.”  What started as a coffee run became a three-hour editing session, which became 30 more coffee runs and a crash course in citation methods and, ultimately, a completed thesis.

Lardo let three non-art students into her studio, but Bitty never came to see her there.  Lardo knew that he had his own focusing place.  He worked in the kitchen, and when she needed him, she went to find him there.

8

“I’m still lost. And I am never coming back. And it’s all your fault.”

Scared

Jughead x Reader

Request: Jughead has a major crush on the reader, but the reader keeps talking about her crush to the squad and it’s always so cute happy positive impressive things so Jughead thinks it’s Archie. He gets really mad at the reader and asks out Betty, and the reader sees it, but Betty tries to tell him he’s getting it all mixed up and it’s one giant confusion.

I really want a really angst jughead one shot but I don’t know what to request, can you just work your magic? Please?

Warnings: None I don’t think

Word count: 3,327

A/N: Based loosely on the emotions faced in episode 10. Also yikes on the word count but I worked super hard on this one and it’s worth the read I promise.


‘As she sits across the cold stone table on a brisk Friday evening, the boy can’t help but notice the way the moonlight bounces off her hair on the left side of her face. The fluorescent bulbs from up above cast a shadow down her face, making her eyes glow. Those same piercing eyes look up from her romance novel, almost like a prediction of his future, and she can’t tell but the boy’s heartbeat quickens, as in this moment their souls have gotten one inch closer than they were before.’ Jughead writes as he sits across from (Y/N) in Pop’s, working on his novel.

Keep reading

So I have a headcanon that lance use to help his mother out around the house, mostly with the cleaning. And I somehow got this, so I hope you enjoy. This is mostly lance being buddies with the lions.

——————-

It was his mother that got him started.

She would always need help with it, not that she was fragile, she’s anything but. But that doesn’t mean that she didn’t enjoy the help, especially with the cabinets and bookshelves. And Lance didn’t mind at all. He loved helping his mom, and cleaning up the house was just one of the things they could do together. Sure, everyone helped out, but it was always Lance who didn’t it without being asked.

And after a while, it became sort of a coping mechanism. Whenever Lance felt overwhelmed, or if his anxiety got to be too much. You would always find him doing dishes or vacuuming. It was therapeutic in a way. It was something that he can control, that got him out of his head. His mom always told him “a clean house is a happy house.”
It may be overused, but to Lance it always made sense. If the house is clean, then everyone inside the house is happy. Even him.

Lance never realized how much he relied on his family. Always making something to clean up. Always keeping him busy. But now that he’s out in space, on a giant castle ship, with only six other people. Lance can’t help but miss it.

at first Lance worked on his room. Mostly dusting, and rearranging his drawers. But after the tenth time rearranging everything, Lance realized that he couldn’t clean his room more if he tried. So he moved on to other rooms. Within two weeks, every room in the castle had been dusted, vacuumed, mopped, swept and picked up as need be. The castle was spotless. And Lance felt better. He always did after a good cleaning session, albeit a long one. But it was nice. It reminded him of home; of some normalcy in what is now his life.

But soon the anxiety and the homesickness came back. But there wasn’t really anything to clean anymore. It wasn’t like there were hyperactive kids that will knock things over anymore. There wasn’t anyone constantly making a mess. There wasn’t anyone constantly cooking up a storm , sure,Hunk is always cooking, but his moms taught him well on keeping a kitchen clean, so Lance didn’t really have dishes to clean. He’ll, even their laundry is done by the castle, no help needed there. He remembers when he use to get pretty mad at his family whenever they would create a mess. But now…..now he just wishes he had something to clean. To remind him of home.

Lance was climbing out of blue, feeling a bit down for the count after a nasty fight with the Galra, that unfortunately when through some kind of space mucus ozone that surrounded a moon they were fighting nearby that got all over the lions, gunking up a lot of their movements. Thankfully it did the same to the Galra fleets, so it wasn’t that hard to beat them after that. But Lance could practically feel the stuff, and he wasn’t even the one covered in it. After taking a good look at Blue, Lance knew that he had to get all that mucus off of her. If it was messing with her movements now, he didn’t even want to know how bad it would get once it hardened. After hijacking Pidge’s latest project(a set of goggles that can translate written Altean into English, he has to give her props, this is some of her best work.) he found the right soap to use and even some wax that he can use afterwards. Blue was going to be the best looking Lion around. And he got to work. He scrubbed every inch of her till he was sure that all the hunk was off, and even asked her multiple times if he missed a spot. Who told him about every missed spot or hard to reach place. Once he had finished washing off all the mucus, he gave her a much needed waxing. No one could deny that happiness that Blue felt all throughout it and afterwards. And Lance finally had something that he could clean when everything got to be too much. They were both very happy.

It became a regular thing, after that. Whenever he had too much on his mind, Lance would go down and work on Blue. Whether it was the outside or in the cockpit. There have even been a few times where he would work on her maintenance system, but only if it needed fixing and Blue has to walk him through it. And he would talk to her, about everything and anything. About things on Earth or his family. About the others and planets that they have saved. And Blue would listen to it all, very story about when he was little and every worry that plagued his mind. She would send him support, and love and tell him that she was so glad that he was her pilot. They were both happy.

But then things started to get kinda weird. It seems that while Blue was flying just as smooth as ever, some of the other lions were having problems with certain maneuvers and actions. Which definitely slowed down their progress of freeing the galaxy. But the weirdest thing is that the other Lions started to show up in Blue’s hangar whenever Lance went down there to talk with Blue and clean up whatever was left on her from the last battle. At first they would just sit outside of her hangar, not really pushing but definitely making he know that they were there. But it was the Red Lion who got sick of sitting around, she had butted her way into Blue’s hangar and sat next to her. And That was when Lance saw it. Dried Mucus. But that battle was months ago. Lance couldn’t help but get mad. He went to check the other lions, and sure enough, there was still dried mucus and other markings from past battles littering the Lions. No wonder the other lions couldn’t do maneuvers anymore. There was still gunk clogging up their joints and maybe even in their hydrologics. Lance patted Blue on the nose and apologized, saying that he might not be able to clean her today, because there is no way he’s going to let the others stay like that. She sent him warm understanding and told him that the other lions were very grateful that he was doing this for them.

It took him two days of no sleep and barely eating to get all the lions completely cleaned and gave each of them a waxing that had them shining like stars. All the while, no one had gone to check up on him. While that did sting, it was probably for the best. If he had seen any of the others, he would have gone off on them for leaving their lions in such a state.

Soon, the other lions became part of his routine as well. Cleaning the cockpits, washing and waxing the exterior. He was really surprised and honored when Blue told him that Black asked if he could help with his control panel.( it seems that Shiro and Black Had taken a nasty hit during one of their recent battles and Shiro got thrown against the panel.hard.) It was confusing at first, and the damage was more serious than he thought, but thanks to Blue relaying everything Between Lance and Black, he was able to fix him up without much trouble. Without even realizing it, Lance had started talking to the other Lions as well. It started off as complaining about how the others don’t clean them like they should, if ever. But soon enough he was talking to them like he does with Blue. And while he doesn’t hear them respond, Blue does relay any messages back to him.

Lance never realized how close he had gotten to the other Lions until after a pretty nasty battle against some sort of squid Robeast. Blue and Red had taken a lot of hits to keep the Galra off of Green who had taken a nasty blow, making them power down. In the end they were able to beat the robeast, but Lance knew that he was going to have to buff out some dents on Blue and Red. Lance had just gotten done with buffing out a pretty nasty dent in Red’s armor, that Keith came into Red’s hangar. And it seems that Keith was not happy to see Lance there.

“What are you doing?”

“Um…”

“Get off of Red. Now.”

“But I’m not do-”

“She’s not your Lion. Get off her. NOW.”

That was when Red put up her barrier. Keeping Keith out. Lance couldn’t help but snicker. Because now Keith was yelling at Red to let him in. And apparently he was losing the argument, because the barrier didn’t go down at all. It didn’t even waver when Keith decided that hitting it would get his point across. That was when Lance felt Red give off a kind of purr, at least he thought it was Red. It was probably thanks to Blue, telling him that Red wanted him to keep doing what he was doing. So Lance went on to the next one, and next one even with Keith telling him to go away. Even after Keith left the hangar. And even when Keith came back with Shiro and Allura in tow.

“Lance?” Lance looked away from his work and looked at Shiro, who looked just as confused as Allura. All the while Keith is behind them, just as mad as when he came in.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

“Buffing out dents. I saw that Red and Blue had some pretty nasty one after the battle.”

“Ok……and why are buffing out the dents of the Red Lion?”

“Why don’t you go and do that on Blue then!” Ah, and there is Keith. Lance was wondering when he would butt-in.

“I already did Blue’s.” Ha, suck on that, Keith.

“But why are you doing Red’s, Keith could have-”

“No. he wouldn’t.”

Lance climbs down from his spot on the Red lion and heads over to Shiro and Allura. He stopped just at the edge of the barrier. Now he could really see that Keith did not like being called out.

“You don’t know that!!!”

“Yes. I do.”

Wow, Keith REALLY didn’t like being called out on this. But this was going to happen sooner or later, lance is just surprised that it took them this long to realize it.

“Lance, you can’t just clean another Paladin’s Lion.”

“Why not. I do it for all the lions.”

“Wha….what?”

“I take care of all the lions. I buff out dents, I wash off gunk, I even clean the cockpits.”

They all look at Lance like he just talked in an unknown language. the fact that Lance has been doing this for all the lions seems to come as a surprise to them. Even Keith lost his anger and is looking at Lance like he’s the 8th wonder of the world.

Allura is the first to get back some sense of her voice, quietly asking lance “and they let you? Do all of this?”

“Let me? They almost shoved themselves into Blue’s hangar hoping I would see how much work they needed. Red actually did!” Lance points back to the Red Lion, who still keeps the barrier up, if only to tell Lance that there are still some dents that need to be buffed out.

“How…how long have you been doing this?” Shiro’s stutters out, still trying to get a grip on the situation.

“I don’t know……maybe a few months? At least two months.” Lance said, trying to recall how long he’s been cleaning all the lions.

“You’ve been doing this for that long and never asked us to help? Lance, while the gesture is nice, we can clean our own Lions.”

“Apparently not. You guys didn’t even clean off the mucus gunk from MONTHS ago! How did you guys not realize that the reason the lions were slower to respond than usual was because they could barely even bend their joints! If you guys won’t even clean them when they OBVIOUSLY need it, then how can they trust you guys to buff out a few dents!”
Lance said to much. He realized it as soon as it was out of his mouth. He just called out, not just Keith, but ALL of them. That was not how he wanted the conversation to go. Wow, was the that floor panel always so interesting, because there’s no way Lance is going to look them in the face after that outburst.

“Lance….I’m sorry.”
Well that definitely got lance to look up at Keith, who actually looked sincere. Lance can’t remember any time Keith has been sincere, well yes he can, but never to Lance.

“I haven’t really been the best when it comes to taking care of Red. But you don’t have to do it anymore. I’ll-”
“Woah! Woah, Keith you don’t have to apologize to me about it. Maybe Red, but not me. I love cleaning the Lions. And while it would be nice it you guys helped out once in awhile, I don’t want to stop cleaning them.”

“Wait, so you actually like cleaning them?”

“Yeah! It reminds me…..it reminds me of home. I use to help my mom with all the cleaning, so being able to do this, it…it helps with the homesickness.”

Lance couldn’t help but get a bit flustered saying it out loud, but he needs to let them know that he enjoys doing this for the lions. He enjoys being able to do this for them. He doesn’t want to stop doing this. He can hear Blue purring in the back of his mind, letting him know that the other lions enjoy it just as much as he does.

“Still, You shouldn’t have to do this….. At least not by yourself. They are our lions. But if it means that much to you, I guess we can’t really complain. Especially with all that you’ve done for them.”
Shiro gestures up to Red.
“But, you shouldn’t have to do all of the work, Lance. It’s not fair to you, or the lions.”

Lance nods. He knows that Shiro is right, but he also knows that the lions can be kind of picky about how they get cleaned. For a bunch of robot lions, they are really vocal about what they like and don’t like. And this just means that Lance is going to have to teach the others about each lions quirks when it comes to keeping them clean.

“How about I finish up here and everyone can meet up in the break lounge, then we can talk more about it.”

“Why not go now?”

“I’m pretty sure Red isn’t going to lower the barrier until I’m done.” Lance stares up at Red, as if staring at her long enough will make her put down the shield. It does not. So win a wave to the others, Lance goes back to buffing out Red, with a much brighter smile than he’s had in awhile.

Sure, Lance loves being able to take care of the lions. It reminds him of his mom and his family. It reminds him of home. But the one thing that makes it even better is when others are doing it with you. It helps bring people together, to talk and bond with each other. And if Lance was being honest, he missed that most of all.

Knuckles: Boxer!Ashton (Part 3)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Pulling up.

Coming down x

You take a final look in the vanity mirror, adjusting bits of your done-up hair to reach a balanced mixture of messy yet elegant. There’s a certain strand that’s been having a time taunting you all day, springing from it’s bobbypin every chance it gets, and you decide to just gift it the freedom it’s worked so hard for, removing the clip at the last second and dropping it on the dresser. Black tie events are far from your forté, but you’re trying your best to play the part for Ashton. The last time you wore a dress this long or heels this high had to be your senior prom, and the jitters in your stomach make you feel like you’re getting ready for it all over again: nervous to see your date, paranoid about something going wrong, trying too hard to impress people you don’t know. At least this time you can look forward to alcohol being there.

You grab your phone and a clutch full of necessities before heading out the door, slowly making your way down the steps as you’re reminded how difficult it is to walk in heels. Whose bright idea was it to invent these things? They’ll be kicked off by the end of the night, no doubt. Your feet are already starting to hate you.

At the edge of the sidewalk a tall figure awaits your descent. He’s sporting a classic black and white tuxedo perfectly tailored to accentuate his striking physique, a thin tie hung from the collar rather than a bow. It’s quite a contrast to the athletic shorts and t-shirts you’re used to seeing him in, but you definitely aren’t complaining. The mop of brown curls that usually fall over his eyes have been trimmed and styled for the occasion, and the two week old beard he claimed he was too lazy to shave has disappeared from his chiseled face, cleaning him up significantly. Ashton has always been more of the ruggedly handsome type to you; the kind of person who looks his best straight after rolling out of bed in the morning. However this new side of him, one so sharp and expensive, inflicts serious damage to your will power, and it takes every ounce of your conscious control to not just blow off the event and drag him straight back up to your apartment.

Keep reading

once,
while i was in high school,
i went to a spoken poetry workshop.
there was one poem i remember quite clearly.

the poet described a night with her roommate.
they had gone out to the local supermarket
to get hummus and crackers
as a late night snack,
and when they got back
she remembered sitting and eating,
watching her roommate, the way she moved and talked,
and the dust motes in the air,
and suddenly all the feelings she’d been ignoring -


and all i can remember was this
panic
that rose up from my stomach
as if a bad nightmare had resurfaced in my memory,
because in my subconscious, something screamed
that is me. i am her.
i live where she did.


for the years following
whenever i thought of hummus
that wave of panic surfaced again.


i think i am teaching myself better now
that that spoken poem
was not a revelation of a nightmare,
but a dream and a prophecy:


i have
and will always
like girls.

—  prophecy
Someone
  • : : BECAUSE MOFFAT JUST NEEDS TO SHUT HIS FACE HOLE SOMETIMES
  • ~
  • *Molly's flat*
  • John: *knocking*
  • -a few minutes later-
  • Molly: *opens the door, wearing a dressing gown; dishevelled and grinning* Hi, John.
  • John: *blinks* Um...I just wanted to check on you. After...
  • Molly: *dismissive* Euros? Yeah, Sherlock explained everything and I'm fine.
  • John: *raises his eyebrows* You're fine? Just like that?
  • Molly: *nods* I had a drink. I shagged someone.
  • John: ...
  • Sherlock: *standing shirtless in the kitchen* I'm someone *grins*
  • John: ...
  • Molly: *smiles* He loves me.
  • Sherlock: *eating biscuits; pointing* And she loves me.
  • John: *smiles*

anonymous asked:

Okay but how about Maggie trying to calm down Alex after the thing with mon el

Come over.

That’s all the text says.

That’s all it says, and that’s all she’s heard from Alex all day, which is unusual, but she’s not surprised.

Not surprised today, because today was her dad’s first day back in the DEO.

Today was all about Jeremiah, all about Alex, and Maggie is alright with that.

Of course she is.

But when she gets her text – her simple text – she rushes.

She knocks, because she could let herself in, but today was bound to be emotional, and today was bound to be hard.

She’s surprised when Alex just says “yeah.”

When the door is unlocked.

Because Alex Danvers never leaves her door unlocked.

But Maggie doesn’t know – not yet, not yet – that Alex texted Maggie and drank her way through a quarter bottle of liquor, straight.

Maggie doesn’t know – not yet, not yet – that Alex left the door unlocked because she trusted Maggie to rush. And she didn’t trust her legs to be able to get her to the door smoothly by the time Maggie gets there.

”Hey,” she offers as she steps inside, locking the door softly behind her because she knows Alex feels better that way. Hell, she feels better that way.

Alex doesn’t turn toward her, and part of Maggie relishes the trust they’ve built in just a few months. The other part of her stomach sinks as she walks around to try to get a look at her girlfriend’s face.

The other part of her stomach sinks as she sees the liquor bottle that she happens to know was much, much more full this morning.

”What’s wrong?”

Alex says nothing, and Maggie braces herself on the counter with a shaky hand.

“How was your dad’s first day?” she asks, her voice soft, her voice nervous, her voice just this side of apologetic.

Alex answers by draining her drink – draining it long and hard and completely – and Maggie’s eyes watch the way Alex’s hands are oh so slightly unsteady, the way her eyes are oh so slightly unfocused.

The way her eyes have been refusing to meet hers this entire time.

“That good, huh?”

She shifts onto the stool in front of Alex, grateful for the way Alex responds to her touch on her calf, the way she automatically moves her foot so Maggie can sit down.

Grateful, at least, that Alex seems to want her there. Seems to accept needing her there.

Even if she won’t speak.

Even if she won’t look at her.

She goes to pour herself another, and Maggie’s heart clenches.

”Whoa whoa whoa, okay. Hold on.” She guides Alex’s hands away from the bottle and Alex just retreats into herself, looking for all the world like a small scolded child, in that little grey hoodie, shoulders rounded, arms limp, body as tiny as she can make it without actually scrunching up.

It breaks Maggie’s heart. But not, she knows, as much as Alex’s heart must be breaking.

”Hey,” she says, and Alex still won’t look up. Maggie touches her arm softly, softly. “I’m here. Okay? You can tell me anything.”

Alex nods, but she still won’t look up, and Maggie’s left hand reaches for her, almost of its own accord, and her index finger settles gently, tenderly, softly, under Alex’s chin.

”Hey, look at me.”

Alex does, and there is nothing but raw defeat in her eyes. Raw pain. Raw agony. Raw torture.

It stops Maggie’s breath, and she tilts her head to keep herself together. Tilts her head to keep her eyes soft, her breathing regular. Because she needed Alex on Valentine’s Day and Alex had held her and listened to her and soothed her all night long.

And tonight is Alex’s Valentine’s Day.

Fathers. Fathers. Fathers.

”What happened with your dad?”

Her voice is soft and her eyes are earnest and Alex takes a shuddering breath in, and Maggie’s heart breaks more than it is already broken.

Alex’s lips tremble and she glances up at Maggie’s eyes, on her own for the first time since she walked in, and Maggie knows.

Knows that her eyes are her words, right now, and that’s all she needs.

She stands and she pulls her close.

”Oh, sweetie. Oh.” She pulls Alex’s face into her chest, draws her back into her body, settles the side of her face onto Alex’s hair, and soothes her, soothes her, holds her, as she starts to cry.

As she starts to sob.

No.

As she starts to weep.

The first two shuddering breaths she takes, Maggie thinks her heart might burst from the pain of it.

And then her voice catches in her tears, catches in her growing hysteria, and Maggie turns her face more toward her, expressionless, expressionless, because her own heart, now, is numb. Because if she allows herself to feel the pain, the rage, the agony, of hearing Alex Danvers, feeling Alex Danvers, come completely apart like that in her arms, she would be the one unraveling.

And her baby needs her. Her sweetheart needs her.

She’s grateful when Alex grabs onto her, more than just a hand on her arm, but her other arm wrapped completely around Maggie’s back and grabbing at her shirt.

Grabbing at her shirt like her grasp and her grasp alone can keep Maggie holding her, can keep Maggie close, can keep Maggie from disappearing.

But she needn’t worry, because Maggie wouldn’t leave her right now, or ever. Not even with the most powerful forces on earth standing against her. Not even with all of Cadmus’s worst weapons trained at her head –

“I…” Alex is gasping, but it comes out like a yelp, like a scream, like a plea, and Maggie kisses her hair and rubs her back.

”I’m here, sweetie, I’m here, shhhh, breathe, Ally. Breathe, breathe, breathe.”

Alex gasps again, yelps again, and Maggie’s face remains motionless.

She swears to herself will murder Lilian Luthor for what she’s done to Alex the first chance she gets, Kara’s feelings for her daughter be damned.

”I coul – I couldn’t kill him, Maggie, I couldn’t… I couldn’t kill him,” she’s gasping, she’s pleading, she’s praying, she’s begging, and Maggie kisses her hair again, again, again, rocks her slightly, holds her face close into her chest.

She doesn’t tell her that she doesn’t understand, doesn’t tell her to slow down and start from the beginning, doesn’t tell her to regulate herself.

Because she loves her, loves her, loves her, and it doesn’t matter if she has all the pieces to the Jeremiah Danvers puzzle just yet: all that matters is that she holds the pieces of his broken daughter together, safe, loved, with her bare hands.

”Of course you couldn’t, Ally, he’s your dad. He’s your dad, he’s still your dad,” she whispers, because she doesn’t know, but she can imagine, and her vow to destroy Lilian grows that much stronger.

”He said…” She’s gasping again, and Maggie nods as she rubs her back and kisses her damp forehead, because Alex’s entire body is shuddering with agony, and Maggie is so proud of her girl for letting it out.

So grateful that she trusts her enough to cry to her like about Jeremiah the way Maggie had cried about her own father.

Fathers. Fathers. Fathers.

”He said he was doing it for me. Betrayed everyone I… I love… for me.”

Maggie’s heart breaks, because she knows Alex.

She pulls back and Alex grabs at her desperately, and Maggie gives her a small, broken smile. “I’m not going anywhere, Al, but look at me.” Alex won’t, and Maggie lifts her chin again tenderly, softly, lovingly.

Alex’s eyes are beautiful, even swimming in torture, even swollen with tears, even red with agony.

”Hi,” Maggie whispers, and the ghost of a smile dances across Alex’s features.

”Alex, whatever he’s done – whatever he’s doing – it is not your fault. It’s not your fault that he started in the first place, and it’s not your fault that you let him go.”

Alex scoffs and tries to reach for the bottle again, but Maggie brings her hands to her lips instead, and kisses each knuckle in turn as Alex watches, as Alex cries silently.

”You are an incredible, powerful, brave, smart woman, Alex. You know – you know – that this isn’t your fault. That none of this is on you. You know what the brave thing was, Alex? Not pulling that trigger. The brave thing was compassion. The brave thing was empathy. The brave thing was looking out for your soul, because you never would have forgiven yourself if you killed him, Alex, and you don’t deserve to live with that. The brave thing was trusting the people you love – the people he betrayed – to fix this. With you. As a team. What is it Kara’s symbol means, stronger together, right? The brave thing was trusting that, Ally. Trusting the people who love you best.”

She pauses and she watches the hope growing in Alex’s eyes, watches the self-loathing seep out of her shoulders, out of her jawline.

She has never been in love like this.

”Trusting me,” she adds in a voice so small she barely hears herself say it.But Alex hears it. She hears it and her eyes widen and her breath pauses and her lips part slightly.

“I do,” she whispers back, her voice raspy with tears. “Trust you.”

Maggie stares at her, trying to read her eyes, trying to read if the word trust is, right now, a substitute for something else. Something like love.

“I trust you, too, Alex.” Another long pause, and Maggie swears Alex is trying to figure out the same thing she is.

“We’re going to fix this. Together. You and me and Kara and J’onn and James and Winn. You have people who love you, Alex, to the ends of the earth and so far beyond. I promise you, we’re going to fix this.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Alex murmurs, leaning forward to rest her head again on Maggie’s chest.

“You deserve everything wonderful and nothing less, Alex Danvers. I promise you that.”

Alex sighs and snuggle closer into her, and warmth courses through Maggie’s boiling veins.

“Stay tonight?” Alex pleads into her shirt softly, softly, softly.

“I’m here, Ally. Always.”

Ache (Blurb)

What if Harry gets home from a long day in the studio, the house is more quite than usual, but then his little four-year-old comes to greet him in the hallway, and tells that momma has a really bad headache, so they need to be quite and she takes his hand, leading him to her and they’ve a cuddle, all three of them.

———————————————————————————————-

The house was strangely quiet when Harry opened the door and tossed his bag down on the floor. Typically, he would come home to the sounds of his daughter laughing and running around the house while you were trying to pin her down for her evening bath.

The only thing to greet him, at first, was the cat, who wandered over to him, nonchalantly and purred. Harry bent down to give his fur a rub, and then stood up again, toeing out of his shoes and glancing around.

“Hello?”

The house was suspiciously clean as well. There were a few toys scattered here and there, but he didn’t see any evidence that his daughter had been playing in the sitting room after dinner, the way she normally would have.

“Hello?” he called again, taking a few steps in from the entry.

Finally, he saw his little daughter come padding around the corner in her socked feet.

“Hi daddy,” she whispered, coming over and reaching her arms up for him.

Harry bent down and hoisted her into his arms, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi monkey,” he said, “Have a good day?”

She nodded, leaning in to lay her head on his shoulder. She was also unnaturally quiet. Normally, when Harry had been gone all day, his daughter was incredibly excited to see him and would basically pounce on him, giggling and shrieking as he blew raspberries all over her face and neck. Tonight, she was subdued, barely saying a word and choosing to be cuddly instead.

He walked with her, still in his arms, into the sitting room and plopped both of them down on the couch.

“You feelin’ okay, lovebug?” he asked, rubbing her back.

She nodded again, lifting her head from his shoulder and staring at him with big, green eyes that melted him every single time.

“We hafta be quiet,” she whispered, bringing her finger to her lips.

“Do we?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow, “Why’s that? Are we playin’ a game?”

“Nuh uh. We hafta be quiet for mummy.”

It suddenly dawned on Harry that he hadn’t seen any trace of you yet.

“Where is mummy?” he asked, allowing his daughter to slip off of his lap and stand before standing himself.

“Her head feels yucky,” she explained, “She’s sleepin’.”

Harry frowned, coming to realize exactly why the house had been so quiet. He felt his daughter reach up to grab his hand and start leading him down the hallway towards your bedroom.

The lights were off and he could see your sleeping form curled up in bed. Your daughter ran to the other side of the bed and climbed up, carefully, before crawling over next to you and settling down beside you. There were a few books and toys scattered across the sheets which made Harry think that his daughter had been hanging out with you for a few hours while you tried to nap.

Harry knelt down beside you and reached his palm out to swipe it gently across your forehead. You opened your eyes slowly and smiled when you saw him.

“Hi babe,” you croaked.

“How you feelin’?”

“Mmm, my head’s killing me, but it’s calmed down a bit since dinner. (Y/D/N) has been such a big help.”

Harry smiled, looking over at his daughter, who was now laying down and curled right up against your back.

“Can I get you anythin’?”

You shook your head slowly and closed your eyes again.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

Your daughter piped up from beside you.

“Daddy, come cuddle with us! It’ll make mummy feel better.”

Harry smiled again, knowing she was absolutely right. He shrugged off the floral print shirt he had been wearing, leaving only the plain, white t-shirt underneath, and shuffled around to his side of the bed, feeling it dip under his weight as he sat down and swung his legs up.

“Here, come on my other side, monkey,” Harry instructed, “That way I can snuggle with both of you.”

Your daughter climbed over Harry’s body until she was on his left side, and Harry shuffled both of them closer to you. You rolled over and sighed contentedly as you snuggled into Harry’s chest. One arm went around you and the other went around his daughter as she, too, cuddled herself into his side and looped one of her legs over his thigh, clinging on to him like a koala on a tree.

Harry placed a kiss on both your forehead and his daughter’s before he closed his eyes as well and settled down. Content to be surrounded by both of his girls.

Make Daddy Proud

A/N: ” harrys girl who has a HELLA MAJOR PRAISE KINK!!!!!!! plz and thank uuu”  Enjoy!

  “Harry! I got a ninety-seven!” I heard Y/n squeal from the living room. “Way to go, babe!” I praise and quickly place the shirt i just folded into my drawer. I laugh to myself and make my way over to where she was. I turn the corner and see her standing in front of the coffee table with her phone in her hand, she had been refreshing her email all afternoon. She’d studied for thirteen hours straight prior to this exam so, one can only assume she wanted this very badly. Before she realizes i’m in the room, I scoop her up in my arms and spin her around. 

  “i’m so proud of you” I mutter, my face nuzzled between her neck and shoulder. She takes my face in her hands and looks me in the eyes. “Did I make daddy proud?” She squints at me. I throw my head back, laughing. Y/n giggles as I set her back down to stand on her own. She sits her phone down on the table before turning back to me. 

  “Of course you did, you’ve always been daddy’s little star.” I wink.

  She raises an eyebrow and starts to play with the hair and the nape of my neck. My hand travels down from the middle of her back to lift up the hem of her shirt and gently run my nails against the skin of her hips. She hisses and touches her forehead to mine. “How come you never reward me, then?” she asks, nibbling on her bottom lip. 

“A lip bite? Very original” I tease.

 Y/n smirks and reaches her hand between our faces. She brushes her thumb over my lip “I could always bite yours, would that be more exciting?”

  She ignited a fire in me with a single sentence. I sigh, not only because I felt myself getting harder by the second, but because she had made me feel like a teenager again. All she did was was ask me a risque question and i’m already as hard as a rock. Sadly, I can’t say this is the first time its happened. She glances up at me through her lashes and waits for my response. “Why don’t you help me find more ways to make you proud, yeah?” she suggests, gesturing for me to sit on the couch. I know where this is going. That particular look in her eyes is a look i’ve seen before. Pupils dilated, lips nice and wet, breath shallow.

She gets down on her knees in front of me and wastes no time dragging my sweatpants down. I’m not wearing boxers today, I figured we would get a little hot and bothered at some point today (it being our only free day this week, and all) and I wanted to make the process less tedious. I’m thanking myself a million times internally. I take my shirt off rather quickly, my eyes glued to her, anticipating her next move.

  Y/n doesn’t bother pulling the trousers all the way off of my legs, she lets them pool at my feet. She takes my cock in her small hands kisses the tip, she lets some spit dribble out and onto the head before swiping over it with her thumb. The very same thumb she had used to toy with my lip not too long ago. I can’t stop the hiss that slips out, today is not a good day to prolong the foreplay. I very well might cum before the good stuff starts.

  She takes notice of my sensitivity to her touch and cuts to the chase, lowering her mouth down on me. Her tongue laps at the veins of my shaft and she knows how to apply just the right amount of pressure with her teeth. I feel them graze me as she brings her head back up to my tip. 

‘ah fuck..that’s good baby” I pant. She whimpers on me, her hand squeezing the base of me. She loves when I praise her….this could be fun. I decide to take it up a notch. What harm could a little more motivation do? 

“shit baby i- mm fuck you take such good care of your man, don’t you?” 

She nods lightly, my dick still lodged in her pretty mouth. I reach down and caress her cheek with my finger. “so fucking good, princess” I groan. She’s enjoying this. I can tell by how her eyes light up every time I speak. “You’re licking me with the same tongue you use to give th-those big speeches at school” I started, her eyebrows furrow. She has no clue where i’m going with this but continues to bob her head up and down. 

“That mouth is pure gold in and outside of the bedroom….you please daddy in every single way” This seems to do it for her. She lifts her mouth off of me and stands up to take down her yoga pants. 

“Come on” is all she spits out at me before walking towards the bedroom. I jump up, kicking my own pants off.

When i enter the room, I see her lying down on the bed, her panties around her ankles. She’s rubbing herself with one hand and beckoning me over to her with the other. I stride over to the bed, tugging at myself as I do so. “You getting ready fo’ me?” I ask her, she nods quickly. She seems so excited and i can’t hide the smile spreading across my face. I climb on the bed and toss her pink panties somewhere behind me, she doesn’t hesitate to open her legs up for me. Welcoming me in, inviting me. 

I decide to skip the foreplay and get right to business. I run my swollen head up her slick folds, forcing an incredibly loud moan from her when I stop to tap on her clit with my member. I let out a breath I didn’t know i was holding when she pushes her shirt over her breasts and begins to knead at them. I line my tip up at her entrance and push in slowly, making sure she can feel my every ridge. She arches her back when I fill her completely, stretching her to no end.

“You’re taking daddy so well baby” I groan out. I lean down to suck on her neck. “K-keep talking, Harry” she pleads. I kiss my way up to her ear and nip at her lobe a bit, filling her to the peak with every stroke. “You always get so wet fo’ me” I slow down a bit, it appears that all this praise is starting to get to me as well. I sit back up and hike her knee up so I can thrust even deeper than before. This time, I can feel her walls squeezing me, I also feel myself pulsating inside her. I’m getting close.

“You’re gonna make me cum baby ahh…ooh yes” I hiss. My thrusts are noticeably unsteady at this point but i’m fighting it. I want to make sure she finishes first and judging by the way she’s clenching around me, she’s just as close as I am if not closer.

“fuck harry oh!….mmh please” her hands are scraping at my forearms that stand on either side of her head, making it harder for me to hold myself up. I place my hands on the head board and pull out of her almost completely before rolling my hips back in to meet hers. Again and again and again until I have her body trembling beneath mine. She’s begging me not to stop. She’s pleading for me to cum with her, and my body betrayed me by obeying her orders. The muscles in my abdomen tighten and I clench my jaw shut.

”cum for me ahhh….f-fuck that’s a good girl ”

I feel my toes curl as the white sensation builds up. 

Then it hits me like a wave. “ooh Y/n fuck yes..fuck baby yess ahh” I cum in long, hot spurts with her still tightening around my cock. I kiss her slowly feeling my heart return to its natural rhythm. I lean up and move her hair from her face before dipping down to kiss her nose. “That was intense “ She laughed. I nod, still a bit winded. I pull out of her and grab one of the clean shirts from the pile I was folding earlier; I use it wipe us both clean. Thankfully, we didn’t soil the sheets this time so I happily climb under the covers and wait for her to do the same. She rests her head on my tattooed swallow and tangles her legs up with mine. 

“All this because of a test, I wish you would score this high all the time” I tease.

“Yeah? Well I wish you would finish folding the laundry…” she snickered