will you read my fanfiction

falling in love at a coffee shop


find previous parts here: masterlist

a/n: so, we’re at the end. or the beginning depending on how you want to look at it. this was always intended to be a short fic about quietly getting to know someone honestly and simply. just easy words, true emotions, lots of coffee and loads of sugar.
you guys have made my last week so much fun and productive with all the love. thank yous just doesn’t seem to be enough…but they’re all i’ve got so, thank you, thank you, thank you.

i do have other stories in the works, more specifically a niall one shot coming up sometime in the next three days and another harry mini series. if you’re interested, keep an eye on my masterlist.

until then, you know the drill…feedback is love, please leave me some x



The doors are locked and we’re standing outside.

It’s raining.

And I don’t have an umbrella.


“What do you want to do?” I ask her.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe get some coffee?”

I chuckle.

She laughs.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I don’t have an umbrella and we’ll have to walk.”

“I don’t mind,” she says.

She reaches out and takes my hand.

And just like that, our fingers tangle and I am holding Olivia Mason’s hand.

And also just like that, it’s not enough.

I have to kiss her.

I pull her and we’re running.

She’s laughing.

I’m happy.

Overflowing with it.

We duck into an alley on a side street.

I’m standing in front of her.

She’s leaning against the wall.

Out of breath.

Her chest rising and falling as she breathes.

Wide eyes looking at me.

Wet hair and skin…and fucking beautiful.

“There’s something I want to do,” I tell her.




She doesn’t move.


“Do you…?”

She pauses.




A raindrop falls from her lip.

I stare.

And want to taste it.

“Do you want to kiss me?” she asks.

“I’d be happy with holding your hand.”

It’s the truth.

That would make me happy.

She smiles and looks up at me.

Her eyes blinking rapidly from the rain.

“That’s not what I asked.”

I lean closer.

“Ask me again.”



“Do you want to kiss me?”

“So badly.”

Her hands reach up and wrap around my neck.

My hands circle around her waist.

I lean in and whisper, “I’m sorry it’s raining.”

“I’m not.”

And then my lips are on hers.



It’s more than I ever imagined.

And yeah…I’ve imagined it.

Nights and nights of imagining.

Sweet and wonderful and warm…just like her.

My hand strokes her cheek and she opens her mouth, whimpering into mine.

I die.

And live.

And life is good.

I’m breathing her breath, sweet and minty and longing that’s finally requited.

Our tongues touch softly…exploring and tasting.

So good.

And all those nights.

All the coffee and the pie and the nerves and the waiting….

Wanting then.

Wanting still.

They were all worth it.

This kiss is worth it.

Olivia is worth it.

I pull away, panting.

So is she.

I don’t let go.

And neither does she.

“Wow,” she says.

And I agree.



She giggles.

“I almost forgot,” I say.



“What’s that?”

“My surname.”

“Harry Styles,” she says.

“Yeah,” I tell her, kissing her lips once more.

“I like it.”

I smile.

“I like you.”

She smiles.

“A lot?”


I say it.


“Me, too.”

“And Olivia,” I say. “Now you know everything.”



One year ago I wrote Nightmares

Nightmares was the first fan fiction I ever wrote for Voltron, and it is BY FAR the biggest response I’ve ever gotten for something I’ve created. It’s a year later, and I am still very active in this fandom, and a lot of that has to do with the continuous comments and messages I get from you guys about this fanfic.

Thank you. So much. 

This year has been very difficult for me, but Voltron and talking to you guys has been an important path of escape. Without you guys, I can’t imagine how difficult the past few months may have been for me. 

Here’s to another year of Klance hell and creating content that I find fulfilling and I hope you guys enjoy. 

dancing in the dark by clairdeloune

harry/louis, 75k, explicit

Harry takes a deep breath and then slowly lets it out. He lifts his head and meets Louis’ eyes again.

“Do you think they could—” Harry stops, swallows dryly; Louis tilts his head to the side, silently urging him to go on. “Do you think they could forgive that someone, then? At some point?”

Louis just looks at him for a moment, quiet, contemplating. “I think maybe, in some ways, they already have,” he says finally, his voice soft.

Or: Harry comes out and it brings more than he’s expected.

Thank you to @loveloveolivia for the collage. <3

[read on ao3]

Getting caught reading fanfiction...
  • them: Hey what're you reading?
  • me: Um an ebook
  • them: Ooooh what's it called?
  • me: Hmmm i just really can't remember haha... that's the thing about being immersed in a fictional universe haha... you forget the titles HAHA
  • Meanwhile in my head.....
  • I've read this fanfiction 500 fucking times, I can quote it from start to finish,, I literally dream this fanfiction, I breathe this fanfiction, if you went into my mind all you would see is this fan-
Committed The Robbery

Pairing: Y/N/Gangmember!Ashton

Rating: NC-17

Request: Yes

Words: 3.000+

Summary: On a scale from 1 to shit, how fucked would Ashton be if he ended up banging the other gangmember Luke’s little sister Y/N?

Keep reading

Rebel AU Mulette Smut PT 2

The frenchman stares up at him with wide surprised eyes at being overpowered so quickly, especially after that orgasm. But soon, his dark eyes narrow with lust and he pushes himself up on his elbows to look directly into Hercules eyes. He feels his breath catch in his throat.

“Getttt on with it thennnn~” he sings, leaning up to kiss him. Herc ducks out of the way at the last second, instead bringing one hand up to press a finger against the taller man’s lips.

“Uh huh. I’m not gonna kiss you anymore now”, he whispers, leaning in close. “I’m gonna touch you all over and you can’t move unless I say so, ok?”

Lafayette whines around his fingers at that, tightening his grip on Hercules waist, before seemingly getting an idea. He darts his tongue out at the shorter man’s finger pressed against his lip, slicking them up, before bringing the digits into his mouth to suck on them, keeping his eyes trained on the shorter man the whole time. Hercules groans at the sight, pleasure heating up in the pit of his belly again.

“Babe, I’m trying to make this about you” he whines, pulling his fingers out of his boyfriend’s mouth reluctantly. Lafayette just smirks at that, freeing his hands to push them up against Hercules’ chest. His fingers dance along the ab lines and he stifles a moan at the feeling of his deft fingers. God. He’s too tipsy for this and he feels so overstimulated.

“You should know now, mon amour, that you cannot control me” the frenchman breathes hotly, kissing up against his neck.

Something inside Hercules snaps at that. “Are you sure?” he challenges, grinning. He runs his forefinger down the centre of Lafayette’s chest before hastily pulling his turtleneck up over his head. He smiles satisfyingly at the hickies he left on his neck before bringing his lips down to plant wet open-mouthed kisses along the skin of his chest, tasting the salty tang of sweat. He slowly kisses his way up his chest, before smirking when finding his target. With a smile, he brings his mouth closer, simultaneously bringing his hand down to Lafayette’s crotch. Lafayette’s eyes widen.

“Oh non, Hercules you would not dar–” he’s cut off with a muffled scream as Hercules swirls his tongue over his nipple, pinching and twisting the bud in his fingers. His boyfriend practically becomes putty in his hands, his head thrown back in a wanton moan and the sound goes straight to Hercules dick again, even after his release.

Yes, Hercules, c'est si bon” he moans, and Hercules doesn’t know a lot of french, but he knows Lafayette’s body well enough to understand that he’s enjoying himself. He swirls his tongue against the nipple, reaching down Lafayette’s sweatpants to massage his hard dick through his boxers. The frenchman writhes under him, head thrown back into the sheets and muttering uselessly in french.

Merde, Herc – you must stop or I–, ungh”.

Hercules brings his mouth up with a wet pop to smirk down at the man under him. “Now who said I can’t control you?” he grins, leaning their foreheads together.

“John is here” Lafayette whines under him, glaring at the door to the hall. “You are lucky he takes so long in the shower.”

Hercules just grins. “We better make this a quick one then, babe.” He leans up to reach into the bedside drawer where he knows the lube and condoms are kept. As always, they’re there. They’re running out of condoms though, and Hercules makes a mental note to buy some more later. Fucking Alex must have stole some. He shakes his head playfully before turning back to his boyfriend.

He can’t stop the gasp that escapes his lips.

He’s taken off his pants now, lying only in his navy boxers. He’s leaning back up against the bedframe and staring at him through hooded eyes, darkened with lust. Hercules suppresses a moan at the sight and instead licks his lips hungrily.

“Well?” the man purrs, rocking his hips upward. “Are we going to… how you say, fuck? or not?”

Hercules practically scrambles out of his own pants before leaning back over his boyfriend. “Sure,” he says breathlessly, running his hands up and down the Frenchman’s inner thighs. He leans down to bite at the V leading down to his crotch and Lafayette bites back a moan, bucking his hips up. “Also,” he smirks, pulling down the boxers and exposing his cock, “don’t act like you don’t know what fucking is babe.”

“What can I say, you… aaah, make me forget… my English” the man breathes, Hercules not stopping his movements. The man looks down at him through thick eyelashes, eyes glassy with pleasure.

He kisses the crown of his boyfriend’s penis, using his free hand to squirt some lube onto his fingers. He gives the member some experimental strokes with his free hand and delights at the precum leaking from the slit. He leans forward to lap at the forming bead, enjoying the salty bitter taste.

With his other hand, he presses up two lubed fingers against the frenchman’s entrance. “Is this ok, babe?” he whispers, concerned.

Lafayette just wraps his thighs tight around his head in response. “Oui. You will not stop now, Hercules.”

With that permission, he smiles up at him  and pushes two fingers into Lafayette. He watches with amusement as Laf writhes under him, pushing up against his fingers and letting out scattered moans. He stretches him out, massaging the flesh inside, before curling his fingers up against a spot he knows that has Lafayette screaming out his name. Bingo. Found it.

Well, they’d been dating for awhile. As Herc said, he knows his boyfriend’s body.

He works against his prostate, making sure to keep eye contact with his boyfriend at all times. Lafayette is just a stunning mess, hair falling out of his bun, sweat glistening his skin and mouth curled in a sinful gasp. He looks beautiful.

Merde, Hercules, je pourrais me noyer dans tes yeux.” The frenchman moans, eyes glazed over and the shorter man feels his hair being tugged as Lafayette rakes his fingers through his curls. “You are so wonderful, magnifique, god…!”

He continues this for awhile, delighting in his boyfriend’s moans, before Lafayette pushes his head up with a sharp tug on his hair. There’s a bit of pleasurable pain there which tingles his skull just nicely  “That is…” he huffs, breathless underneath him. “Enough. Please. You must… make love to me. now. I cannot wait any longer. Je te veux tellement.

Hercules says nothing, just leans back up to stare at him lustfully before slotting their mouths together. Lafayette whimpers through the kiss, swirling his tongue desperately back into his boyfriend’s mouth.

He pulls his own boxers down and discards them on the floor hastily. He rolls a condom down his straining member, giving it a few pumps, before crawling back over the taller man and grabbing his hips. He lines himself up carefully. “You good?” he whispers, bringing his hips toward to meet his entrance. Lafayette just frowns at that, throwing his arms in the air.

“I will be good when you fuck me.” He growls, and with that Hercules snaps his hips forward. And shit he feels so fucking good around him.

Lafayette throws his head back and lets out the loudest moan he’s heard all night and Hercules feels himself straining even harder. Lafayette’s walls clench around his dick so wonderfully and it takes all his self control to not just start thrusting wildly into him, letting his dick speak for his brain. Instead sets a slower pace, letting his boyfriend adjust, but soon Lafayette has his nails raking down his back and he knows he’s ready.

Harder” the frenchman grits, rocking his hips up to meet each of Hercules’ thrusts. He speeds up his pace, slamming into him roughly and watches as he hits a spot that has Lafayette seeing stars and throwing his head back against the pillow. “God, god, god”  the man moans, staring blankly at the ceiling, face contorted in pleasure. “Fuck.”

“Shit Laf, how are you so goddamn tight”, he groans as the walls tighten impossibly around his length, clamping down on him. The frenchman just moans in response, lost in his own pleasure. Hercules reaches down his free hand to fist Lafayette’s strained dick, rock hard and leaking against his chest and relishes in the look in Lafayette’s eyes. God. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have someone so beautiful in his life. He’s struck by how much love he feels for the man underneath him.

“Lafayette, I love you–” he murmurs, moaning as his boyfriend rakes his nails along his back. “So much. Fuck.” He thrusts faster, harder, losing himself in the sensation.

Lafayette just babbles incoherently under him, eyes rolling into the back of his head and hand clenching the bedsheets. “Oui, oh yes, yes, right there!” he cries out, and Hercules adjusts his hips and angles himself so he hits that spot every time. He glances up to look in the frenchman’s eyes and the wide eyed, lustful look he gets back sends him teetering closely to the edge.

“I love you so much, je t'aime, mon amour,” he cries out. Hercules pumps his hand around Lafayette faster at that, and the man juts his hips up to meet his thrusts.

Tu es magnifique.“

His moans become louder by the second, and in a fleeting moment he really hopes that John was having a really long shower because the sounds coming from his mouth are filthy. God he needs to take french lessons.

“I’m so close, are you close, babe?” he pants and stares down at his boyfriend lovingly. He slots their lips back together and then the frenchman pulls back with a scream of  “Herculeeees” and suddenly the man spasms underneath him, hips bucking under the pleasure of his orgasm and cums against his chest.

The action sends Hercules himself over the edge, and with a few more thrusts his vision burns bright and he comes violently, throwing his head back in a moan.

They lay there for a while, breathing heavily against one another, basking in the afterglow of their orgasms. A few beats later, Herc pulls himself out and Lafayette mewls at the loss of his fullness. He ties the condom and expertly throws it in the bin beside the bed before crawling back to curl at Lafayette’s side.

The taller man reaches out to give him a sweet kiss before resting his head on his shoulder, drawing circles against his bare chest.

“Laf, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He murmurs earnestly, kissing the top of his head.

The frenchman’s eyes shine with tears as he bursts into a wide grin.

“You are as well, mon amour. You are as well.”


forgive me for i have sinned

i saw that you liked it on your instagram story so i had to submit the second half  !

i am going to hell


-“Stubborn, snarly cat. You won’t lose him. He’s one of your best.”

-“I might, you grumpy bug, the best always fall the hardest.”

Glaze, Chapter 15.

I know I’m coming late into this amazing fanficiton written by @kryallaorchid (tumblr is not letting me tag them damn it) but i cant resist to draw some fanart of it because it deserves it. It’s one of my favorites and has everything i like in a fic. And damn the expansion of the mythology and the characterizations are so well done I love it so much. If you havent read it already go and do it because it will literally have you in the edge of your seat. It’s part of the Tendencies series and I’m going to make more fanart of it, specially of Obsession because the angst is so full in that part I need to fanart it.

For the seconf panel I was inspired by this amazing design of an African Chat Noir (i spent almost an hour looking to the photos of the Himba people because they are freaking beautiful)

  • Me: *is reading fanfiction*
  • Parents: Oh what're you reading?
  • My heart: *stops*
  • My mind: *panics*
  • My future: *dies*
  • My will to live: *also dies*
  • Me internally: a book it's a book
  • Me: *nervous sweat* oh a *nervous laughter* just a uh a bo-ok. A book I'm reading a book
  • Me internally: nailed it
  • Parents: oh really? What's it about?
  • Me internally: nvm ur screwed.
Peace and Quiet

(Hey Pots! Just gonna submit this ficlet because it’s really too short to post, but I thought you might find some enjoyment from it haha.)

Loud. Loud. Everything was so loud.

Ritsu dropped his head to the desk, slamming hands over his top ears. The noise wouldn’t stop, it wouldn’t stop! The flutter of pages turning, books being shoved into shelves, the scratch of pen on paper, the scratch of pen on paper, the scratch of pen on paper–

Soft. Soft? Ritsu opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – and something was on his head, covering his vision. He sat up and adjusted the fabric, lifting it from his eyes. A jacket?

Oh, but this colour, this style – this was…

He peeked over at the seat next to him, where Shou must have just sat down, because he definitely wasn’t there before.

Shou smiled at him uncertainly, like he wasn’t sure if Ritsu wanted him there or not. Ritsu smiled back and that’s when he noticed.

The world was quieter. The jacket muffled his hearing and God, did it feel better. He could feel his headache start to clear. He sighed in relief, falling back on the desk, cushioning his head with his arms.

“Thank you,” he breathed out and Shou’s smile turned into a grin. Shou reached over and fiddled with the jacket, making sure it wouldn’t slip off Ritsu’s head. This close, he could see his chest heaving with exertion. Had he run here?

“You still have hot chocolate in the office, right? I’ll be right back, you just relax.” Shou hopped up – he made sure not to shift the chair legs over the floor, made sure it didn’t make that uncomfortable screeching noise – and jogged off.

Ritsu was going to cry if Shou kept this up. Affection swelled in his chest and he reminded himself to thank him again later.

He could see Emi and Mezato watching him from behind one of the bookshelves. They must’ve been the ones to get Shou then. He’d have to make it up to them, too. But, for now:

He closed his eyes, pressing his face into the softness of his best friend’s jacket.

Finally, some peace and quiet.


this was so cute i just had to draw something for it


sooo thanks to reading heartstrings by @taylordraws i was up til 3am doodling this garbage. god help my lost soul.

also i’d been talking to @littleblackchat all day about it and she was designing up what she imagined Mari’s dress from chapter 3 looked like, and I doodled this version based on her descriptions and early doodles of it xD so it’s a little different from the one she posted. Also I pointed out that the keyhole in the dress was perfect for Adrien in that scene, since he put his hand there and gyid7573943778hsjdfj IMAGINE IT GUYS imagine it

like flying, like falling

I got the loveliest @edendaphne as a part of a little gift exchange! I wanted to do something for sidekick!Adrien au, especially based off a few of her wonderful drawings! Thank you @powerdragonmoon for your help, and thank you @baneismydragon for pulling this together! 

“It’s just like flying, I swear.”

Ladybug eyes the motorcycle purring quietly away beneath Chat’s hands with doubt.

“When you said I was going to be entertained, this isn’t what I imagined,” she says, hands on her hips. Her eyes follow the blades of silver light running along the polished, black metal of the motorcycle’s solid frame, up to the point where Chat’s leather-clad leg bisects the view as he braces his feet against the ground. Her gaze travels up, instead, to the sleek leather of his tight pants, to the tailored, fitted cut of his bulletproof jacket.

The thing about leather is that it leaves little to the imagination- little, but just enough…

“Want to ride me?” Chat offers.

Ladybug can see the way her jaw drops open at the suggestion, reflected in the mirror-clean visor of Chat’s helmet. The visor slides up with a sharp click in the next second, revealing his green eyes, acid-bright in the night and comically wide in panic.

“Ride with me, with me,” he squeaks, voice cracking in his haste to correct himself. He coughs, and hurriedly adds, “It’s super safe, I promise.”

Except that Chat’s definition of safe is often way off base from her own. Ladybug still vividly remembers the one time he leaped off a building and landed on his moving motorcycle with a wild, exhilarated whoop that did not match the rush of sheer terror that jammed her heart up her throat at the time. She’s pretty sure he knocked off at least five years off her lifespan in that single moment.

Still, when his hand unfolds out toward her, she takes it without a second thought.

“Like flying, you said?”

“Hey, you’ve got your magical supersuit,” he laughs. “These are my wings.”

Ladybug can feel the moment she gives in as his eyes sparkle at her. She swings a leg over the motorcycle and settles in snugly behind Chat, wriggling until her front is pressed to his back. Her hands take their time ghosting up his hips and around his lean waist; even through the leather, she can feel his pulse quicken, can see when his breath hitches in his throat even as he slides his visor back down.

“Alright handsome boy,” she purrs into his ear, underscoring the heavy beat of his thundering heart. “Show me what you’ve got.”

The motorcycle stirs beneath them before awakening with a roar. Chat kicks off, and then only the wind catches Ladybug’s delighted shrieks as they race down the empty city streets.  

Riding his motorcycle always fills Chat’s veins with adrenaline, but Ladybug’s exhilarated laughter and warm, possessive hold around him makes him feel positively electric. The city passes by them in flashes as they travel along the lightning of the moment.

“Enjoying yourself?” Chat yells back at her.

Her grip around him tightens, and the way her hands splay over his chest is not entirely necessary for her safety, but is utterly capable of producing a flush that shudders over his whole body.

“Definitely!” she yells against the wind, the teasing grin audible in her voice. “But if you wanted flying, then I can do one better.”

- - - 

“This is falling,” Adrien argues. His helmet and motorcycle rest in a tucked away alleyway, safe from any curious passerby and woefully far from the high rooftop he and Ladybug stand on.

“You coming, chaton?” Her yoyo swings in lazy circles as she beckons him over to her with her free hand. He comes, irresistibly drawn to her like a magnet.

“My turn to show you how it’s done,” Ladybug laughs. Her yoyo snaps back to her hip before she turns around and offers her back, gesturing clearly for him to hop on.

He slowly steps right up behind her, savouring the way her muscles tense at his proximity. His breath ghosts along her neck, raising goosebumps, before he murmurs, “Ready?”

Before she can answer, he jumps up and wraps himself around her back, hooking his legs over her hips and slinging his arms over her shoulders. He laughs, a shit-eating grin on his face, as Ladybug curses and stumbles at the sudden weight. She quickly finds her balance again and straightens up, turning her head to the side so he can see the unimpressed look on her face. Mischief glitters bright in her the sky of her eyes though, betraying her amusement.

“Dirty trick,” Ladybug comments.

“Nothing dirty about it,” Adrien assures her with a wink. He chuckles against her neck as she turns to face the front again with a huff, a blush rising from the high collar of her suit. His hold around her tightens as she braces a hand under one of his legs and unhooks her yoyo from her hip with the other.

“Don’t scream,” she reminds him.

“Not a problem.” Then, as her yoyo begins spinning before them, he asks, “Do I even weigh anything to you?”

“Nah, it’s like holding a couple of grapes,” Ladybug laughs. Despite the levity of her answer, heat pools at the bottom of Adrien’s stomach as he marvels at her strength, at the way she effortlessly, easily holds him up. Before he can worry about the unexpected turn of his thoughts, her yoyo whips out, hooks onto a nearby rooftop, and launches them into the air, saving him from himself.

He’s watched her fly over the cityscape dozens, hundreds of times, through camera feeds he’s hacked into from his computer, and through the dark visor of his helmet when he rides out into the streets to help her. Ladybug is nothing but purposeful and sure in her every move, her every step. He’s seen it, over, and over, and over again.

But feeling it is something else entirely. Even with his added weight, she lands and leaps with total control, with an ease and confidence to be envied. They soar up into the clear night air, high enough until they seem like the only two people in the world with all the city laid before them.

The wind flying by on the long drop down claims Adrien’s wild, ecstatic whoop. When his eyes begin to water from the speed, he buries his head into the crook of Ladybug’s neck, laughter still spilling over in his giddiness.

“I still don’t know if I’d call this flying,” he says, his lips tracing her skin. He can feel her swallow as his words press on her neck, can feel the way she falters ever so slightly as she swings them both down to land on the solid ground of a rooftop. Emboldened, he gives a little nip, smiling at her quiet gasp, before humming, “It’s falling.”

Ladybug stills, her muscles tense, her breaths coming in quick and hot. That can be blamed on adrenaline and exertion- but not entirely.

Adrien murmurs, “I’m still falling.”

His steel-toed boots hit the ground and Ladybug turns on him like fire unleashed, grabbing his collar and pulling him down into a deep kiss that has him not flying, not falling, but floating and seeing stars. He wastes no time in winding his hands around her slim waist, his fingers tracing the curved red pattern of her suit.

“That was so cheesy,” Ladybug groans breathlessly as they break apart.

“It worked,” he grins as she pulls the zipper of his jacket down.

“If you’re free enough to talk, you’re free enough to make good on your promise to me earlier,” she reminds him, her hands diving beneath his jacket to trace hard muscle beneath the thin black turtleneck. Her fingers rake over his stomach and she grins as she feels him gasp at her touch.

Instead of coming onto her strong like she expects, Adrien lifts her chin up with a hand and captures her lips in a soft, slow kiss. The unexpected tenderness completely wipes her mind blank as she sinks into him, heat simmering low in her belly. His hand tangles into her hair and just as she begins to relax, he gives a sharp, authoritative tug, pulling a moan from her throat as her head rears back.

Ladybug’s hands bunch the bottom of his turtleneck up in frustration, but she gives as good as she gets as she hooks her fingers into his belt loops and pulls his hips flush against hers, startling a groan from Adrien.

Undeterred, his head dips down, lavishing attention onto whatever bare skin he can reach. He leaves a necklace of kisses and hickeys around her throat for her to wear. His grip on her hair tightens when she tries to lean forwards to kiss him again, leaving him free to take his time planting kisses along her cheeks, her forehead, the corners of her mouth, everywhere but where she wants it most.

He gets closer and closer then always denies her, until a frustrated whine finally escapes her.

With Ladybug’s short hair and long ribbons hopelessly tousled from his hands, her cheeks flushed a bright red, and her eyes burning fever bright in excitement and want, Adrien grins as he leans forward to purr into her ear.

“How’s that for entertainment?”

A Warm, Safe Place

Originally posted by hunterchesters

Dean x reader drabble 

Summary: You and Dean find a small infant while clearing a crime scene. She suddenly becomes the center of the world.

Warnings: mild angst, mention of blood, life-threatening wounds. Dean being his perfect paternal self?? 

Word count: 

A/N: thank you so much for reading!

You both stood over the crib. Fingers which, only minutes ago, had been poised over their two respective triggers, now lay at rest by your sides. Each of you more wordless than the other. Instead of the monster you’d been expecting, there was a nursery. A soft raspberry-colored room, with accents of pinks and whites. Stuffed animals were spread sparsely throughout the room, and a small bookshelf to the far left held just a few children’s books that’d been read thousands of times to unborn ears. 

 And here you stood, Dean beside you, as your eyes remained glued to the infant laying inside the confines of the crib. Her parents were gone, torn apart brutally in the early morning. Tragedy had befallen the sweet baby in front of you, and all you could think about was how peaceful she seemed, how innocent and unknowing she was in all of this. Her jaw moved up and down as if she was still sucking on a binkie, and the gentle sound that came from her not-possibly-more-than-two-month-old form melted your heart.

Keep reading

For @abloodneed, one of the most amazing, beautiful men alive. Thank you for always being you.

There were certain things that Magnus feared. The loss of a loved one—his mind flashed to quick strides, dark hair and hazel eyes—, the loss of a friend—his breath caught at the image of dark eyes, dark hair streaked with grey, twin horns, and skin grown cold—, and the loss of his children—the downworlders he’d taken underneath his wings. His fingers dug into the oak coffee table, scouring the wood as his mind supplied him with images of everyone of them that he’d lost. Drawing in breath was hard, like he was suffocating, a direct contradiction to the cool breeze wafting into the outdoor patio of the mundane bar he’d decided to visit. Sometimes, he just needed that time to himself, amongst the mundanes that entertained him with how they scurried about in their daily lives, unaware of the world that existed in the shadows.

He did just that at the moment, watching them go about their lives when suddenly, everything… froze. From the waiter who had been heading to his table, to the lovers celebrating their recent engagement. Even the late night dog walker and her dog were frozen in place, her with a hand halfway up her hair, and the dog with his tongue half pulled into his mouth. As he took in the the sight, everyone frozen as far as he could he could see, and as he heard those footsteps, calm and unhurried, that oozing mass of power that would cower a lesser man, have them scurrying away or bending their heads in submission, Magnus came face to face with his biggest fear.

“Drinking alone,” a voice he’d heard only once in his life and had hoped he would never hear again wafted out to him, moments before the owner of the voice slid into the seat across from him. White suit—expensive as expected, stretched over a tall lanky form. “Now that doesn’t suit you Magnus,” he drawled as he casually shrugged off the jacket, undid the diamond studded cufflinks so he could roll up his sleeves and show off his forearms. Long lean fingers reached up to run through hair that was kept in place by the crown of barbed wire on his head. He waved his hands and men—shapeshifting demons, Magnus was sure—who’d accompanied him all gave them a wide berth.

“And how would you know what suits or doesn’t suit me,” Magnus tossed back as he reached for his glass of bourbon. “You don’t know me.”

The man grinned, teeth sharp in the moonlight. “Now, now Magnus. Why would you say that? Is that how you speak to your father?”

Magnus raised a brow and took a sip of his bourbon, eyes hard as he stared back at Asmodeus.

Keep reading

The Spicy Cologne

New job, new city, new life. Louis is pretty excited to start the next chapter of his life.

Harry Styles, the sole heir of the Styles Group of Hospitality Ltd, is a man like no other. For the world, he is a recluse charmer and a sharp businessman. Behind all that, hidden from the world, is a man struggling with himself and his last abusive relationship.

As their paths cross, everything around them is put to test, from their will to their patience and courage, only to reach a point where nothing ever will be the same again.

Pairings: Larry and Ziam

Word count: 100k

Manips by @melmanpur  :  X

moodboard and Playlist by @nottooldforthisship


read the fic on ao3

Fic written for: @1dbigbang


Presenting for your reading enjoyment my entry for @trexrambling and her daring drabbles challenge! You pick a letter and Jess gives you something beginning with that letter - I chose the letter T and got given toes! Also couldnt go over 500 words!

Word count: 495 (ooo so close!)

Characters: Dean, Reader

Warnings: Tickling, threats to pie, implied smut

The bunker was silent. Silent except for your squeals.

“Damn it Dean! Pack it in!!”

“What’s it worth Y/N?”

‘I won’t kick you in your damn face you big jerk! Dean!! Oh my god please, mercy!”

The first time Dean had tickled you had been completely by accident. The two of you had been alone in the bunker, Sam having driven over to the next town to see some film that even you had turned your nose up at as being a bit too arty. Instead you’d curled up on the library couch, your favourite book in hand and a cup of coffee next to you. Dean had been giving Baby a bit of TLC but had at some point come and plonked himself down next to you, laptop and headphones to keep him occupied. Sitting there, you’d eventually stretched out, your legs draped over his lap. And then he’d gone to go get himself a beer, and his hand had brushed over your feet…

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” you’d replied, slightly muffled from where you’d clapped your hand over your mouth at the snort that brief touch had caused.

“Y/N? Is someone ticklish?”

“No! Dean… Dean!!” you yelled as he grabbed onto your feet again, long fingers causing your toes to curl as he tickled you.

After that, Dean would spend ages waiting to pounce on you. While he quickly found out your sides and back of your neck were good spots to tickle, there was nowhere better to aim for then your feet. Which led to this moment, you desperately trying to wiggle out of his hold as his right hand drew nonsense patterns on the heels of your feet and between your toes.

“Dean!! I swear if you don’t stop I’m never making you pie again!”

His hand stopped at that, but stayed hovered above your foot.

“You wouldn’t dare Y/N. You love pie almost as much as me.”

But the threat had worked and his hand slid up to curl round your waist. As your breathing got back to normal from where you’d been gasping for air against your giggles and curses, you became very aware of the fact that you were practically curled up in Dean’s lap, his arms wrapped round you and his breath hot on the side of your neck.

And as you gave one more wiggle to get out of his iron grip, you froze as your ass came into contact with…damn! Seems you weren’t the only one all hot and bothered from your little tussle. You turned your head to face him, and before you could blink you found yourself on your back, Dean kneeling between your legs.


The two of you were frozen in that moment, just waiting to see what the other would do. And then you decided. Grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down into you, lips meeting in a blazing kiss.

Your toes were curling for very different reasons that night.

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