yes darling yes you are


i am physically and emotionally crying he revealed his real name and identity to the summoner he trusts them THAT much AND HE VOWS…TO FIGHT FOR THEM…….AND WITH A WIDE SMILE WHILE HES AT IT IM SO…………………..

Depth Over Distance

For my favourite person on her birthday. Happy birthday, Maplevogel!  You said you wanted a domestic piece so I hope this counts.  A little bit of sharing and caring and patience.  

Inspired by the song ‘Depth Over Distance’ by Ben Howard.

Depth Over Distance

The hinges on the door squeaked in warning as Canada pushed it open.  The house was stale and dim but he could hear the ‘click, click, click’ of an oscillating fan in the distance.


He slipped out of his shoes and dropped his suitcase on the worn hardwood.

“Gilbert?  I’m home.  Where are you?”

He squinted into the kitchen as he passed and sighed at the pile of cardboard boxes and garbage. The stove was blackened, the coffee pot was filled with noodles, and the sink was stacked with unwashed dishes.  

He knew what that meant.

Canada squared his shoulders and marched up the staircase with his heart in his throat. Kumajirou was sitting outside their bedroom door with his nose scrunched up in displeasure.  Canada tapped him on the head twice before pushing the door open.

The hinges seemed to screech even louder than before in the silence.

“Gilbert?  Are you in here?”

“No,” the bundle of blankets on their bed replied.  

“Are you sure?” Canada asked, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.  Prussia had drawn the curtains but he could see piles of clothes and more unwashed dishes scattered around the room.

“No,” the blankets repeated.

Canada bit his lip and tried not to laugh.

“No, you’re not here?  Or no, you’re not sure?”

Prussia peeked out from under the covers and blinked at him.

“…  Both?”

Canada chuckled, he could not help himself, and reached out to smooth his tousled hair.

“Bad day, then?”

“Bad week,” Prussia pouted, but he leaned into his hand.  “I missed you.”

Canada hummed in understanding.  He had missed Prussia too.  But he knew that it was more than that.

“Are you going to get up?”

“…  I don’t want to get up today.”

Canada clucked his tongue and nudged Prussia until he scooched over.

“Then move,” Canada said.  “I want in.”

Prussia raised the corner of the blankets and Canada slithered underneath.  He wrapped his arms around Prussia and pressed wet kisses to his shoulder and collarbone.  

Prussia clutched the back of his suit jacket.

His hands were shaking.

“I’m sorry you had a bad week,” Canada mumbled against his skin.  “You should have told me.  I would have come home sooner.”

“I know.  That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

Canada smiled even though he felt like crying.

Keep reading

miyakokurono  asked:

Ello can I request a hc for 707 and Zen react to MC coming home drenched from the rain but not in the 'cute/hot wet shirt way' but instead the " I look like I hate the world and look like a drowned rat" kinda way ? Thank you☺


  • immediately bursts out laughing when he sees you
  • is all ready to joke about your state but stops when he realizes that you’re not smiling back as you usually do
  • panics
  • asks you a flutter of questions, incredibly worried
  • you are lost in his train of disjointed thoughts as he runs around
  • you sneeze and he almost goes into a seizure
  • “No, no, no you’ll get a cold-”
  • He goes over, lifting your shirt before you can argue
  • “You’ll need to take your clothes off-”
  • you gawk and blush heavily, swatting his hands away
  • “What are you doing?”
  • he looks confused
  • “…helping you?”
  • he suddenly realizes what he was doing and comes back to his senses, a faint pink on his cheeks as well
  • he rubs out his glasses that fogged, chuckling nervously
  • “Right, right”
  • He lifts you off your feet, leaving you more flustered while he grins boyishly
  • “Lets get you dry while I draw a bath, hmm?”


  • from the very beginning he freaks the hell out 
  • you’re still in a bad mood from being drenched but can’t help but be curious when he runs out of the room
  • he comes back with the biggest towel you have ever seen
  • actually where in the world did he get that from
  • he wraps you up in the fluff, setting you down in the couch
  • he’s zipping away again, heating up the thermostat so that you feel comfortable
  • you swear he’s a blur at this point when he disappears into the kitchen
  • two minutes later he’s coming back out with a mug steaming in his hands
  • he hands you the cup of hot milk
  • all you can do is stare, overwhelmed slightly
  • He wipes his forehead, a bit flushed and offers you a smile
  • “Are you ok now, babe?”
  • you stutter
  • “U-uh yeah”
  • you honestly did not expect all of that
  • he narrows his eyes and just watches you for a bit with genuine scrutiny, in case you were still uncomfortable
  • you find your voice again, looking down, cheeks burning with a smile
  • “Really, I’m fine. Thank you.”
  • his face brightens and he sits, wrapping an arm around you and planting a kiss on your forehead


The Princess and the Wedding

Prompt: Part 3 of Damian’s Soulmark series, because Damian is the definition of prince charming.

Part 1, Part 2

You find that it’s worse when you’re alone; when the room is dark and Damian isn’t around. You try to focus on anything else; a book, a movie, something. But nothing works. In the end, you end up in front of the large bay window of your hotel room, admiring the Gotham skyline.

   In that moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes, and breath. You focus on the way the air fills your lungs, and the slight ache as it leaves. Then you focus on the pull. The little warm feeling that assures you that you’re not alone. You become so lost in it, that you never hear him approach, and by the time that needle finds a home in your neck, it’s too late to do anything. The last thing you see is Vertigo’s face.

   In unconsciousness you find peace. Your mind drifts back to the cabin, to the explosion of emotion. You remember the way Damian’s lips feel on yours; slightly chapped but tender. You remember the way they had danced over your skin. And then you remember lying in front of the fireplace, wrapped in his arms.

   “We have to find a way.” His voice was a whisper.

   You had placed a kiss on his chest before looking into his eyes. You had found them filled with desperation and love. Love for you and desperate need to be loved. Snuggling closer you had simply said, “We will.”

   Two days later the call from Vertigo had come, along with his ultimatum. Return to Gotham and marry him, or watch your mother die. The fear that had gripped you with that phone call had nearly made you sick. But Damian had wrapped his arms around you, and made you a promise, “We’ll get her back. We will get her back, and then we’ll figure out us.”

   The plan had been simple, pretend to go along with Vertigo’s plan, from there Damian’s family would search for your mother. The galas and state dinners that had been lined up had bought you some time. You weren’t scheduled to go back to Kaznia for several weeks. That along with the pretense of disdain for the Wayne heir provided you with a cover that couldn’t be bought anywhere else.

   But Vertigo had always been a sneaky bastard. So when you wake up, strapped into a chair on the royal family’s private jet, you know that the man had moved up his timeline. The smirk he gives you makes you want to claw his eyes out. Instead you dig your nails into the armrest.

   Hours later you’re led off the plane under an armed escort. You find yourself thrown into your room at the castle, and what you see there makes you sick. The wedding dress resting over the chair is extravagant, gaudy, and something you’d never wear. And as you’re forced into it, your hatred for Vertigo grows even more.

You’re acutely aware of your surroundings as you are walked from your room to the throne room. The grip the soldier has on your arm is hard enough to bruise as he drags you down the aisle. Your eyes meet those of several of your mother’s cabinet. They’re covered in bruises, and Vertigo’s soldiers stand nearby, ready to shoot.

You scowl as you’re deposited in front of you husband to be. His smile is evil, as he simply asks, “Are you ready darling?”

“Ready to kill you? Why yes, yes I am.”

You listen as Vertigo takes his vows, and when your turn comes you’re certain that you’re going to be sick. You’re just forcing your mouth open when the doors to the room burst open.

Smoke fills the air, and there’s several grunts. You use the diversion to back away from Vertigo. You’re nearly out of the room when an arm snakes around your waist, and a hand clamps over your mouth. Before you struggle, a familiar voice says, “It’s me.”

You look into Damian’s eyes and you finally relax. Until you see the sadness in them. His voice is soft as he asks, “Where’s your room?”

Your heart sinks as you lead him through the corridors. Once you’re safely in, and the door is locked he explains. He explains how his family had been looking for your mother while you two kept an eye on him at the party. It was them tripping the silent alarm that made the Count move up his plans.

Your voice is soft, “What about my mother?”

Damian meets your eyes, his voice as gentle as can be when he says, “We were too late. Her injuries were too extreme. They were able to get her to the hospital where she was able to identify the Count as her captor and abuser. She died before we were able to get here.”

His words weigh you down, and you find that you have trouble breathing. You start pulling at the dress, and Damian quickly helps you out of it. You slide to the floor in your underwear, and Damian drapes a blanket around your shoulders.

   You feel the tears slip down your cheeks, and you force yourself to take a deep breath, “I don’t have time to mourn. With my mother gone, I am the Queen.”

   Damian nods, “What do you need from me?”

   You stare at him, before taking his hand, “Will you marry me? I know it’s soon. But I’m young. I don’t know who I can trust and who I can’t. Marriage will bring stability, and I know it’s a lot to ask …”

   He smiles, before pushing a lock of hair behind your ear, “Let’s go get married.”

   You pull on jeans and a tee-shirt before walking with him back to the throne room. The smoke had cleared, and Vertigo and his followers had been tied up. Your mother’s cabinet, now freed, stood debating what to do.

   You keep your voice calm, as you simply say, “My mother is dead. She lived long enough to give us the evidence needed to convict Vertigo. But as of now, I am the Queen of Kaznia.” You take a deep breath, “And my first act will be to marry my soulmate. Damian Wayne.”

   You ignore the shock in their eyes as you step forward. Damian’s hand on the small of your back gives you the strength to stand tall. In perhaps the most unglamorous royal wedding ever, you and Damian Wayne are married. And as you promise your life to him, you can’t help but think that it fits the two of you perfectly.

@shoegazerx and I decided to collab in person this time, which of course meant Spacedogs.

Enjoy ;)


The star had fuck all to do with actual stars.

Nigel had always played around with tattooing himself ever since he was a kid, little doodles that were easy to attempt and never permanent.

He got his first doing his first time at fifteen, ACAB on his right arm that seemed so fucking cool but now held bad damn memories.

The pinup he got after Bucharest, waking up alive and handcuffed to a hospital bed gave him a reason to believe in luck.

Nigel got the star for the first successful deal he and Darko worked, the smoothest deal he’d ever made.

God bless fucking America.

He was gonna make it into a flag but thought fuck that, the star a joke for nearly a year till he stumbled into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen.

Adam Raki changed the air he breathed.

They locked eyes and there was an interest immediately, though the lithe little thing looked away only to stare at his arm instead.

“You like stars too? I love stars!”

Nigel bullshitted his way into following, barely aware of anything but that smile when he said, “I live for the stars, gorgeous.”

Three hours he spent sitting on a park bench and listening to this beauty who was sure to say, “My name is Adam, not gorgeous.”

Nigel smoked half a pack and reveled in watching Adam’s cheeks warm when their hands brushed on the bench. He didn’t stop until Adam asked, “Are you doing that on purpose?”


The frown Nigel got didn’t sit well at all so he asked Adam to name the constellations earning a smile.


Nigel smiled back, “Please.”

He walked Adam home and answered questions about his tattoos, starting with Lady Luck and ending with the star on his arm.

“Why did you get that one?”

Nigel grinned, reaching out to touch Adam’s hand. “For you, Star. Didn’t you know?”

“But that’s not true you had that long before we met.”

Nigel kissed his knuckles, winking as he brushed his thumb across. “I think the star was meant to lead me here. North fucking star and all that.”

Adam let out a breath, stepping forward into Nigel’s space. He smelled sweet and Nigel was willing to bet he tasted even sweeter.

He leaned in as Adam went first, a chaste brush of lips that Nigel fought the urge to deepen.

Adam’s breath warmed Nigel’s cheek.

“Do you want to watch the stars tomorrow too?”

Nigel smiled, “Like I said earlier, I fucking live for stars.”

Adam smiled. “Goodnight, Nigel. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He watched Adam head up the stairs and his lip curled in anticipation.

“Oh yes you will, darling. Yes you will.”

Years later when asked about his tattoos he almost always said the same thing about the star.

“This one is for Adam,” ignoring Darko’s snicker and making sure Adam wasn’t within hearing range, “The brightest light in my otherwise dismal fucking life.”

anonymous asked:

Four word prompt: "You love me, right?"

thanks for the prompt anon! hope you like it… 💕


You Love Me, Right?

The new house was perfect - exactly what they had wanted and completely picturesque. It had three bedrooms, a library (the biggest selling point if Hermione was being honest), and a huge garden with a white picket fence. When they had moved in, everything about it had been pristine and Hermione was determined to keep it that way. It was easy enough to keep a house clean with magic, anyway, but she still made sure to wipe down the counters, dust off the cupboards, even clean the windows most nights.

“Hermione?” came Ron’s voice from the front hall. “Can you come here?”

Curious, Hermione set down the sponge and proceeded to the front of the house. Ron was poking his head through the door, wearing a vaguely apologetic smile.

“Wow, you look beautiful today,” he remarked as she reached him. “Absolutely radiant.”

Hermione glanced down at her sweatpants and then back up at Ron, who just kept smiling.

“What’s going on?” she asked hesitantly. Normally when he came home from work, he bounded through the door and planted a huge kiss on her lips and started asking her about her day. He at least usually came all the way into the house.

“You love me, right?” he asked with what he clearly thought was a charming grin.



“Yes… Ron, darling, I took all the same vows you did, remember?”

“I do,” he agreed seriously, “and I also remember that it was the best day of my life, so-”

“Seriously, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing at all, just-”

But in that moment, a small whimper sounded from behind the door and Ron’s face turned brick red.

“Ron… what was that?”

With an air of apprehension, he pushed the door all the way open to reveal a squirming terrier puppy nestled in the crook of his elbow. As Hermione stared at it, her eyes like saucers, it started licking Ron’s forearm with a tiny pink tongue.

“Whose dog is that?” asked Hermione, quite sure she already knew the answer.

“I found him in the alley behind the shop,” Ron explained, “and he was all alone and he was cold and he was starving and - and look at him, Hermione, look at that face.”

He held the puppy out at arms length as though to give her a better view, and though she wasn’t quite ready to say it aloud, it was admittedly a very cute little thing.

“You sound like Hagrid,” she said with mild disbelief. “Ron, everything in this house is brand new.”

“As is this puppy,” Ron countered. “And right now, yes, it’s a brand new house, but y'know, a dog makes a house a home.”

“When we moved in, you said shagging in every room of the house made it a home,” Hermione reminded him. And okay, so she’d quite liked doing it in the library, but that was rather off the point at the moment…

“Well, yeah, that too,” he smirked, tucking the puppy back under his arm. “Look, I couldn’t just leave him. He’s so little, he wouldn’t have made it. He needs a family, just like - just like Harry needed a family-”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Hermione groaned as Ron offered her a guilty smile. “You are shameless.”

“I’m just saying, I think he needs us.”

Ron shifted the puppy onto his chest, where it set about gnawing on the collar of his shirt. Hermione knew that if she asked him to take the puppy to a shelter, he would do it, and it would be adopted in a heartbeat, but she also knew that this event was not terribly out of character for the man she had married. He was, in many ways, a caretaker and always had been. He couldn’t see someone, or something, in need and stand by and let it happen.

Yes, it would make messes, and it might chew the furniture, and it would probably shed its fur everywhere, but it already made Ron so happy… and beyond that, the sight of him snuggling this little nugget of a puppy had already completely melted her heart.

“So what are we naming him?”


you can find more four word prompts here!

also, there was another lovely anon who requested this same prompt but with Hermione saying it and well, this was already written before I saw that. but I may still honor that request 😜…

Cassandra Pentaghast - Sneaking up on Cassandra Pentaghast, the Seeker, the woman of nails required a will of iron. And a death wish. She’d be training, as she usually is. Sword swinging, sweat dripping down in her face. Most questioned why she trained fully clothed, in her armor, when most would at least strip down a layer of armor. But she liked the challenge, the weight on her shoulders, back and chest. It was a game she used to play with Antony, seeing how fast you could move with metal weighing you down. Surely, if he were here, he would be proud to see that she hit almost as fast as a rouge. As previously mentioned, one would have a death wish if they planned on sneaking up on her. The Inquisitor moved fast, just barely dodging the sword that would swing around. Her eyes would be sharp, lips thin and taut. The expression would melt away, shock replacing it. Then distaste. “Inquisitor, please, announce when you are- Oh!” The shock of lifting her up and off her feet would bring that shock back to her face. Her eyes would be wide, feet dangling. She had received hugs before, but not one so…tight. Her armor kept her lungs safe though, and her feet would gently touch the ground. She’d be at a lost for words, cheeks slightly red, expression confused. “It is…good to see you to Inquisitor. But if you have time to waste, you can train with me.” Poor, poor Inquisitor.

Cassandra Pentaghast (Romanced) - She would be less on edge when training. Not so intense, training out of habit and not necessity now. She would not be so quick to whirl around, sword raised, but she would turn sharply, face curious at the approaching steps. And then she would smile, slowly and small, but a smile none the less. The Inquisitor visited more and more, exchanging small flirtations, or simply wanting to talk. Occasionally, he would manage to convince her to step away from her vigorous training regiment to gently press soft kisses on her face, lips and hands. By the look in there eyes, this would be one of those times. She was already setting her sword to the side, but squeaked when her feet were clearly no longer touching the ground. The woman was no common maiden but her cheeks would be red as she was held close to his warm chest, The Inquisitors chest. Shame would heat her ears. People could see! But the soft kiss on her lips would melt away her worries and she’d bury her face into his neck, whispering a soft half hearted insult.

Solas - Most did not linger in his room, the silent and intelligent elf occasionally intimidating, peculiar or odd. That, and no one felt so calm around him, the mysterious out of nowhere individual who had made his way into the Inquisitor’s inner circle with his intelligence and words alone. When he hears feet lingering, though, his eyes would slowly rise. The Inquisitor. A friend, someone he didn’t need to don a cold appearance to. He would rise, bare feet padding on the stone floor. “How may I be of assistance?” A simple one. one that did not warrant a hug. He would panic, for a moment, but he would soon relax as he was squeezed gently. He’d grunt softly, gently patting their chest until he was put down. His eyes would be curious, cautious as he raised an eye brow. “Inquisitor, I don’t need to point out how odd it would be if one of your staff saw you embracing the elf.” If an elf he would say ‘the apostate’, if an elven mage he’d simply continue looking on with curiosity. Once the Inquisitor left, he would smile ever so slightly, fondly, sitting back down at his seat.

Solas (Romanced) - The fade was a beautiful place. A place away from prying eyes and prying people. If a mage, it would be a simple thing to find her and pull her to the dream like Haven, suspended in a timeless and beautiful sunset, if not, he would tug her slowly out of her dreams, pulling her into his arms. The silence that would reign would be a warm one, eyes gently regarding each other, lips twinged ever so slightly. He would not be surprised as he felt the artificial gravity changing and shifting and he’d chuckle, happily going into her more than capable arms. She’d huff, coaxing his legs around her waist and arms around her neck and just like that she’d carry him around. He found it charming, really. And it was no negative that it kept them close and warm in this fake haven. He would close his eyes, pressing a soft kiss against her neck as she chattered on about stuffy nobles or annoyances in her travels or business as Inquisitor.

Varric - It had to be some sort of unspoken rule, don’t pick up a dwarf. It’s belittling. Hah, that one was good. But still, it was considered disrespectful. But did the Inquisitor care? Of course not. Breaking social laws when you make them came hand in hand. The hearth would be alight, warming his hands and toes. He was used to the clomp, patter and tap of feet as they passed by, his current station in the main hall made sure of that. But when he heard those feet coming towards him, it could only be Hawke or the Inquisitor. He turned on his heel, a smile curling on his lips. And then he’d see the arms. No. Oh no. The humanity. Being so far off the ground gave him a bit of vertigo, but the totally un-amused expression on his face hid it. “Haha. Very funny. Picking on the dwarf because of his height. That’s nice and all, but I enjoy the ground Inquisitor, and I’m sure you like having clean clothes. You should put me down before we both regret it.” With record pace he was set down. A smile would tug at his lips and a soft chuckle in his throat though , of course, as he waved the Inquisitor off.

Vivienne - Now if the Inquisitor didn’t have a death wish with Cassandra, they surely had a death wish now. It was easy to find the woman, sitting at her balcony, sipping on wine and talking to some Duchess of where ever and a Duke from how come, to the Inquisitor the only who that mattered was Vivienne. They’d probably loose their steam half way through, watching her eyes flick over to them. They’d slow their pace, lips going from their wide smile to a smaller, more nervous smile. “Hello Darling. There you are, I’ve been looking for you. Madame, Ser, if you do not mind.” She’d wave them both off, her polite smile turning into her sharp one, a chuckle leaving her lips. “The woman got her title from buying it, not earning it, and he is no nobleman. A merchant who knows how to primp himself, surely, but no nobleman. I wasn’t truly looking for you, just looking for an excuse. What do you need, Darling?” They’d hesitate, hands twitching. Well, it’s now or never. The Inquisitor would lunge forward, holding the woman to their chest. And then they’d lift her up, giving a small twirl. And then they’d slowly set her back down. Fear, anticipation and regret would thrum in their ears but then, oh. She was smiling. “Yes yes Darling I’m happy to see you too. But such affections should be saved for the private company of friends, not outside in the open for all to see. I trust you will not make this mistake again?” Her eyes would go hard, lips thinned and eyebrows raised. Just happy to be escaping with their lives, they would nod and be off on their way to their next hugging victim. Vivienne would watch, silent, eyes going warm before she returned to her wine.

Iron Bull - Truly the Inquisitors biggest challenge yet. Literally. The Iron Bull was a man who could surely weigh up to a druffalo, and being on the receiving end of bear hugs ends today. They would walk into the Tavern, a stride in their step and a thrill of anticipation would curl down their back. They’d stand their, arms crossed, gazing down at the Iron Bull. “Bull, I want a hug.” The Inquisitor would say, a smile curling on their lips. Who was the man to deny such a sweet request. He’d rise from his chair, chuckling deeply as he opened his arms, prepared to lift them off their feet. But then he would grunt, deep and breathless as he felt the most crushing hold on his chest. And then he gasped. The last time he had been off his feet was when a dragon had knocked him clear across a field. But this was not a dragon. His hands would fall to their shoulders, holding on tight, grinning wide as he watched their feet step back shakily. He expected to be dropped right on his ass. But their feet stood still. Their knees stopped shaking. And they stood perfectly still, nuzzling him. Nuzzling. The Tavern was dead silent. And then righteous applause, screams even. The shout he’d give as well would be the loudest, a deep and rumbling laugh would leave him. The Inquisitors red, yet proud face would be the most endearing thing he’s seen since Krem woke up with a cow lick.

Iron Bull (Romanced) - It was usually Bull in charge. The man was naturally dominant, what could he say? But the Inquisitor had something else in mind today. They would wander into the Tavern, eyes flitting around until they landed on the large grey mass. Weaving through the masses to his true goal was an easy task and they would smile. “Come with me?” They’d say softly, and Bull’s friendly exterior would melt, a warm chuckle on his lips. “Of course, Kadan.” From there most knew to get out of the way, and get the closest ear plugs they could. The trek to the Inquisitors room was one that was welcome, adding to the tension, to the silent foreplay of their eyes raking over one another. Once in the room, the Inquisitor would be quick, grabbing Bull’s thighs with a soft grunt and lifting him up, pressing him against the wall. The Iron Bull? His eyes would be wide, blinking slowly. And then he’d grin. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Alright. I’ll make you work for it, though.” The entirety of the Inquisition would weep, for no one got sleep that night,

Sera - She would be in her room, easy to find, mumbling softly as she fiddled with a jar. She’d snap to attention when she heard someone enter the room, throwing the jar out the window with a half innocent smile. Screeches could be heard and a faint buzzing. “Wasn’t me. Gravity done did it. Not me.” She’d say, predicting some sort of lecture. But all the Inquisitor could do was give a deep sigh and a fond smile. She’d then get suspicious. But her suspicious would turn into wheezing because she should not be so far off the ground. A wheezy chuckle would leave her lips and she would kick her feet back and forth, demanding to be put down. They do exactly that. Her bum hits the ground with a thump and she hisses, blinking. “Okay okay. Guess I deserved that.” Her smile would be contagious and warm and the Inquisitor would smile right back. 

Sera (Romanced) - Up to no good, as always. She wouldn’t be quick to react or jump. Most knew not to come into her room unless they wanted to get a prank or two. But Inky? Well, they were always welcome. She turned on her heel, shaking the jar of bees in her hand and a manic grin curled on her lips. “Ya up for som- Oh! Oh. Hehehe.” She’d let her feet dangle, and she would gently throw the jar onto a stack of pillows she ‘borrowed’. Thin arms would wrap around her neck and she’d press a soft kiss against the Inquisitors lips, sighing softly. “If ya wanted some sugar you could have just asked for some. Near got a face full a bees!” The Inquisitor would huff, showering her with kisses and dragging her off to the roof, where they could sit and cuddle. 

Blackwall - The man had claimed the barn as his own, his place of sleep, his place of wood work and his place of relaxation. He had somehow ended up having it all to himself, though that was not his intention. He wanted to make it clear that he was a soldier like any other. But of course, only special treatment for the Inquisitor’s inner circle. Speaking of the devil, the person in question would saunter in. He’d smile, dusting himself off as he walked over slowly. He’d open his mouth to address them, but well, he didn’t get much of a choice. He was a heavy man, muscle and body wise, but the Inquisitor proved to be more strong than that. He coughed softly, face going red as he dangled for a moment. “Well. Ehem. Hello to you too, Inquisitor.” His feet hit the floor, looking on with a half smile. The Inquisitor would be pleased with that, grinning.

Blackwall (Romanced) - The barn had become more than just his lodging. It had become a memory, a reminder of the night he did his biggest wish and largest regret. Now that he thinks about it, it was foolish. Anyone could have walked in. He shook his head at the thought, grunting softly. But he would be knocked out of his thoughts, eyes slowly turning as he heard the foot steps. Say her name, and she comes. “My lady.” He murmured, already heading over to lure her into a hug or a kiss. And he got exactly that. He blinked, though, because she had a hold of his wrists, he wasn’t able to take control. He watched curiously, his back hitting the wall. And she lifted him up. His face went red, a deep and hearty chuckle left his lips. His legs rested on her waist, an arm slung around her shoulder, and the kiss was soft and light. He’d have it no other way.

Cole -  “Warm, soft and safe, in your arms they can’t hurt, in your arms they are safe. They would have to bend and break your fingers, destroy and shatter the bone. You want to protect us, you want us to be happy, you love us. You want a hug. I would like one too.” The Inquisitor would smile, eyes slightly sad as they picked the boy up. He felt frail, thin. It worried them as they gently rocked on their feet. Cole’s ghostly arms slid around them, giving a warm hug. He said softly, eyes downcast. “You do not need to worry. We are safe. You keep us safe. You help. And we love you too.” The Inquisitor isn’t crying, your crying.

Dorian Pavus - Ah, the pursuit of knowledge. Truly a noble pursuit, really, one of the few out there that remained forever in the ambiguous grey area. You could read to learn how to fight, cook, to kill, to pray, to debate or to help you with a particularly troublesome blister on your arse. And where was Dorian? In the library, of course. His fingers skimmed over the titles, occasionally sighing or rolling his eyes. Truly, the Inquisitor didn’t read these? They were all so…dull. And uninformative. Really, they had to have their own special collection hidden away in that room of there’s because no one but a Free Marcher would pass this off as readable. He heard footsteps, but paid them no mind, continuing his browsing, fingers being wretched away and was that the ground with his feet not on it? Why, yes it was. He noticed the awful beige color of his kidnapper and he chuckled. “Oh my. A poorly dressed brute is carrying me off. Someone, help.” The Inquisitor chuckled, setting him back down. “Predictable. No one helped. My captor themselves had to set me free! Very predictable.” He shot Mother Giselle a look, turning back to his reading.  

Dorian Pavus (Romanced) - Reading had become a lot more complicated now a days. Not because he had lost his will to study, of course not, knowledge was power and he wanted that as much as he wanted gels for his hair and mustache. But, his mind had been on other things. Other someones. An other someone. The Inquisitor. The man was truly something to marvel at, muscle and charm. He sighed softly, holding a hand to his chin. He didn’t even notice, didn’t even hear his approach. The Inquisitor pressed against him and he chuckled, pressing right back. “Oh my. Is that a staff or are you happy to see me?” He would purr, head tipping back for the softest of kisses to the Inquisitors chin. He predicted the next part, feet being swept off the ground, an arm under his knees and one on his back. He laughed heartily, eyes twinkling. “Sweeping me off of my feet like a maiden? I’m already deflowered, you know, your fault of course.” Mother Giselle’s poor eyes. 


Notes: @real-life-dragon-age-trash Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you! This was a pleasure to write. Took me an hour. loved this prompt. Love you. 

  • *late evening, 221B*
  • Baby Holmes: *sniffing, rubbing her eyes*
  • Sherlock: *carrying her to the kitchen; softly* It's okay, Dad's here...
  • Baby Holmes: *upset* I don't w-want any friends. They all m-make fun of you and f-fink you're a weirdo.
  • Sherlock: Well, would a weirdo have lots of cake for his special girl? *opens the fridge; brings out cake*
  • Baby Holmes: *gasps* But Mummy's not here!
  • Sherlock: *thoughtful* You're right... *smirks* you thinking what I'm thinking?
  • Baby Holmes: *nodding, excited* Uh-huh!
  • Molly: *leaves the morgue, rubbing her shoulders*
  • Molly: *enters her office*
  • Sherlock & Baby Holmes: *sharing a bowl of chocolate cake*
  • Molly: *smiles* Hi. What are you two doing here?
  • Baby Holmes: *grins, chocolate all over her face* Mummy! We brought you some cake!
  • Molly: *joins them, sitting in Sherlock's lap* I thought you were with your friends.
  • Baby Holmes: *slurping cake* I am.
Bandaged Heart

Request: Please please please write something where Crowley somehow comes back and there’s a lot of fluff with the reader

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 800

Originally posted by manicmiracle

“I … I lost someone when you were born. He … was everything to me. He sacrificed himself to try to help trap Lucifer in the alternate universe,” you told Lucifer’s son, who, with a bit of guiding, turned out good, despite who his father was. He had brought Castiel back, but you still felt empty inside. Something was still missing.

Jack nodded as you spoke, having heard about Crowley numerous times since the incident. “You’ve showed me nothing but kindness and patience. All you have endured is pain and suffering,” he murmured, holding your gaze as you faintly smiled. “But no longer.”

You watched his eyes trail past you to something you couldn’t see, prompting you to whip around and meet eyes that you hadn’t had the privilege to gaze into since his death. “Crowley?” You breathed out, eyes widening. You knew Jack was powerful, but seeing Crowley in front of you, completely healed with a fresh suit, made you feel like you had been struck by lightning. Your heart rate etched up, shock crackling through you like electricity.

Crowley flashed you a smile, one that was warm and familiar. “Hello, love.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:



(Nah but seriously YES YES YES I AM SOOOO HAPPY FOR YOU DARLING!!!!! :D ) <3 <3 <3 <3 <3