yes good that was a good line i am now satisfied

between the devil & the deep blue sea (m)

cr. 

Words: 28,455. (rip)

Genre: Pirate Jimin au + smut, fluff, angst.

Paring: Jimin x Reader.

Summary: “No matter the endeavour you were on, no matter the storms you encountered on rocky seas, or the possible threat of encountering blood-thirsty pirates, no one intrigued you or intimidated you more than the thought of him, of Park Jimin, the most notorious of pirates, the most brutal of men, the devil incarnate.”

Fantasy Collab

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Toothbrush

Pairing: Daveed x Reader

Requested?: Nope! 

Summary: At what point does casual sex become more? Daveed’s having a problem figuring that out.

Words: 3.1k+

A/N: I had this for a while actually but kept forgetting I had it so here you go! This was inspired by the song Toothbrush by DNCE! Thank you @secretschuylersister for proofreading and telling me to post this! Enjoy!

Originally posted by lafayettesbun


This was teetering on dangerous now. For the umpteenth time, Daveed has woken up in bed next to you after yet another social gathering. It had started off simple, the chemistry was there and it was undeniable that you both wanted to jump each other’s bones so eventually Daveed made his move and was met with little resistance. The cycle became: have sex, rest for a few minutes, get dressed and then leave right after. The next time you guys ran into each other, it was like your friendship hadn’t changed and conversation flowed easily. Then one night you were too sore to get up and asked to stay the night, Daveed agreed not thinking much of it. You both settled into your halves of the bed and nodded off, you were gone before he woke up. Then things changed again.


You were both laying on your backs, panting hard with closed eyes. Daveed opened his first, looking over at you and admiring your skin as it glistened in the moonlight. He did a pretty good job tonight.

“I give it a 6 out of 10.” You spoke up, laughing at the offended look on Daveed’s face.

“Oh please! You had 2 orgasms!”

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Apples and Heroes

Originally posted by kissthejotun

Request: Can you please do a Star Trek story with Bones and the words “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”, “your pulse is weak,” and “all the apples in the world wouldn’t stop me.” They aren’t in your prompts list I hope that’s okay? Thank you!

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Stereotypical (2)

Bucky Barnes x reader AU (short series)

Notes: swearing, flirting, mentions of child abuse and alcoholism (past), none other yet.

Summary: As a PA/secretary, you are all too familiar with the fantasies nearly all men share: banging their hot assistant. Former jobs haven’t worked out for you for that exact reason, and now starting out at a new company, as the secretary for the CEO of the hottest modelling agency in the country, you’re hoping this one will be different. But after meeting your new boss, Mr J.B. Barnes, you’re not so sure if it will be. Then again, maybe Mr Barnes is not as stereotypical as you think he is.  

A/N: Part two! It’s gonna be a sloooooow burn. (sorry, not sorry) Mention of Naomi Campbell; just saying: I don’t mean anything by it. I love her. Ok? Ok. 

“You enjoying yourself?”

James leaned over your shoulder just as you told another model to take his shirt off (one of the perks of your job)

You snickered, “Always. I love my job”

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Bend Over My Lap A.I

Originally posted by loserxhemmo96

warning: smut

word count: 1600+

summary: dominant!ashton - y/n cheats on ashton because she’s unsatisfied but he proves her wrong

requested?: yes, hope you liked it anon!! this is written by Hannah whoop whoop. Keep your eyes pealed for me and Hannah’s secret project, details will be coming in the near future so keep your snacks on the ready!

requests are not open! you can request as many times as you want :))

find Hannah here: @lukeasfuck

- Find my Masterlist here -________________________________________________________________

“What do you mean?” Ashton asked me and I saw his face start to quiver. 

“I slept with another man.” I looked down, trying to avoid his burning gaze. 

“You slept with another man?” He repeated in disbelief and I nodded my head. I looked up and could see the hurt in his eyes before he broke eye contact and looked at the ground. His expression was grim before he turned around and stalked to the kitchen sink, dropping his fork into the sink of soapy water.

I could see his arms clench as he gripped onto the counter and he slumped his head down, making my heart drop. How could I do this to the man I love? Yes, I had been unhappy and unsatisfied, but that gave me no reason to do what I did. I had no excuses.

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Uta no Prince Sama Maji LOVE LIVE 6th Stage - 05/27/2017

OMG. OMG. OMG. I have still not completely absorbed the fact that I was there - that my dream of attending Maji Love Live concert has finally come true on this fateful day. *cries a river*

This is a fan report - which is basically my feelings put into words. And warning: as in my previous seiyuu event reports (Bungo Stray Dogs, High Speed), this is looooooong. ^_^ Plus, I used the seiyuu’s nicknames for convenience.

ST☆RISH

Shinomiya Natsuki - Taniyama Kishou (Kiiyan)

Ichinose Tokiya - Miyano Mamoru (Mamo)

Aijima Cecil - Toriumi Kousuke (Tori-san)

Jinguji Ren - Suwabe Junichi (SuwaJun)

Ittoki Otoya - Terashima Takuma (Terashii)

Kurusu Syo - Shimono Hiro (Shimono)

Hijirikawa Masato - Suzumura Kenichi (SuzuKen)

QUARTET NIGHT

Kotobuki Reiji - Morikubo Showtaro (Morikubo-san)

Kurosaki Ranmaru - Suzuki Tatsuhisa (Tatsun)

Mikaze Ai - Shouta Aoi (Shoutan)

Camus - Maeno Tomoaki (Maenu)

HE★VENS

Hyuga Yamato - Kimura Ryohei (KimuRyo)

Otori Eiji - Uchida Yuuma (Uchida-kun)

Amakusa Shion - Yamashita Daiki (Daiki-kun)

Kiryuin Van - Takahashi Hidenori (Takahashi-san)

Otori Eiichi - Midorikawa Hikaru (Midorikawa-san)

Mikado Nagi - Yonaga Tsubasa (Wingu)

Sumeragi Kira - Ono Daisuke (OnoD)

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Bad Match - Pt.1/?

Summary: Bucky and the Reader are set up on a date, but things don’t go as well as expected.  

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 2605

Warnings: angst, self-loathing feelings, bad date, Bucky is kind of a jerk, swearing.

A/N: I’m not exactly happy with it, but I just couldn’t stare at the screen anymore. Thank you @imhereforbvcky  for your kind offer to help, giving me some of your time and teaching me so much about writing with just a few notes. You’re amazing.  

English is not my first language, so you’ll find grammar mistakes and nonsenses. Sorry!

Part 1/ Part 2Part 3/ Part 4 Part 5

“Are you sure is not too soon for both of us?” you apprehensively asked your best friend through the phone. “I mean, I broke up with Jeff just, what… three months ago and he, on the other hand, well, he’s Bucky Barnes…I really wouldn’t like to become an additional problem for him, since he already has his fair share of issues” you tried to debate with your fellow SHIELD agent.

“Three months are already too long Y/N, it’s past time for you to move on, and when it comes to Bucky, he’s a really sweet guy once you get to know him, you’re gonna love the man, and he’s gonna love you too, trust me,” the strong-minded woman argued on the other side of the line.

“Ok…” you sighed with resignation, knowing there’s no win with Sharon Carter once she’d put something on her mind “I guess you have a point, I’ll be there”.

~~~

Lying on their shared bed, arms crossed behind his head, Steve observed his girlfriend sitting by the desk talking to you on the phone. When she hung up with a satisfied smile he knew she’d got what she wanted.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” the Avenger told her with furrowed eyebrows while she was making herself comfortable again beside him laying one arm over his chest.

“Of course I do, they are great for each other.” She responded with the smug confidence that Steve so well knew and loved about her.

“I just don’t think Bucky is ready Shar, and wasn’t it Y/N that recently got out of a terrible relationship?” He tried to ponder with her.  

“Steve, honey, I know you worry a lot about Bucky, and you have your reasons, I get it. Yet, he’s been among us for over a year now. He’s doing so great working with the Avengers. I understand he’s still have some social skills matters to work on, but he’s been doing progress with therapy.” She tried to prove her point.

Steve looked down at his girlfriend “What about the Natasha situation?”

“That’s another reason. That ain’t gonna happen, not now, not never, she’s a different person than she was before and is head over heels for another man. Bucky has got to let go of this obsession with their past.” The blonde woman snorted her disapproval and continued. “He hasn’t been to a proper date yet, don’t you think there’s something missing? He needs someone good in his life, not just those meaningless shallow one-night stands he’s been going on.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Sharon kept talking, circling her hand on his chest in a reassuring way “And as for Y/N, yes, she’s been in a horrible relationship, but she’s managed to put an end on it and deserves a second chance too. They are a good match, I have a feeling.”

“I still don’t know baby, are you really sticking with this?” The soldier insisted.

“Steve… sometimes even if the whole world is telling you to move, it is your duty to plant yourself…”  

The Captain interrupted her, rolling his eyes “Ok ok ok, you don’t have to use the “you move” speech.” Giving her the giggles, he chuckled and put a kiss on the top of her head “I just hope you’re right on this one.”

“I am.” She concluded nuzzling into her boyfriend chest.

~~~

“Here it is, Miss,” you smiled at the waiter when he placed your second drink of the night on the table. You took another glance at the clock on the restaurant wall, 30 minutes…

You couldn’t believe that you were going to be stood up on your first date after your break up with Jeff. So much for being open to new possibilities.  At first you were reluctant to go along with Sharon’s idea, but then you started to think that she could be right. You had to move on from you self-pitying state and the sooner the better.

Flashbacks of the crappy last two years started playing in your mind. You had met Jeff at one of the CIA`s divisions in Europe, when you and Sharon started working there after the fall of SHIELD.  You didn’t know then, but he was the man that would break you into a million tiny self-hating pieces. Without once laying a finger on you he had the power to, with a word or just a look, make you feel unworthy, tiny, unlovable. There was always something that wasn’t good enough for him: your clothes weren’t that fashionable, your looks could be better, your hair should be longer and there was always someone than  you in any given aspect. That was your daily life with the man you started to believe you were lucky to have as partner and that loved you in spite of all of those flaws.

You only realized you were getting stuck in a vicious cycle of self-loathing when your friends, specially Sharon, practically punched some sense into you.

The break up didn’t happen on good terms, so you were glad in accepting SHIELD’s insistent offer to assume your position back after they were reactivated and rejoined forces with the Avengers. You moved countries and focused exclusively on work.

Your fall to an abyss of sad memories was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat next to you. When you looked up, you weren’t expecting to see an ocean of blue eyes staring down at you with a questioning look.

“Oh h-hi, sorry I didn’t see you here” You stood up and, God knows why, leaned to greet him with a kiss on the cheek, only to be stopped with a preventative handshake. Blame it on your European times.

“Hi you must be Y/N, my name is Bucky.” He introduced himself and the soft rusky tone of his voice was the most alluring you had ever heard.

Like in a trance you practically moaned, “I know everything about you Bucky.” Listening to your own words and checking the startled expression on his face as he let go of your hand, you tried to correct yourself. “I-I mean, n-not everything, course not, you’re Bucky Barnes, Steve and Sharon’s friend, t-that’s what I know.” He raised one eyebrow and took his seat in front of yours.

What was the matter with you? You had met the guy for five seconds and suddenly became a stuttering mess? You took in his appearance and concluded that, even though you had seen pictures of him before (most of them with his Winter Soldier mask, since the media still craved for his troublesome past) you certainly weren’t ready for the real deal. He was absolutely gorgeous.

But that fact and the outrageously sexy low bun that was holding his brow locks didn’t stop you from realizing he hadn’t apologized for being 40 minutes late.

“How was the traffic, too crazy?” You questioned to give him the opportunity to redeem himself.

“No, not really” he responded nonchalantly, taking a look around the Indian place you had chosen. “Have you ordered anything yet?”

“Oh, I haven’t, I was waiting for you.”

“I hate Indian food, but go ahead, make your order.” He turned to the waiter already standing next to him and asked for a drink.

“Oh… I’m sorry, this is my favorite place, that’s is why I picked it, I didn’t know… we can go… somewhere else…” You were so flustered that you could feel your whole body burning, starting in your cheeks that probably were showing a deep shade of pink now.

“No, no, don’t worry Doll, I’m a drink kind of guy anyway… So tell me, how long have you been friends with Sharon?”

The use of the nickname and the whole embarrassing events so far got you rambling non-stop. You never ordered your food and kept talking about your childhood, your job, Donald Trump, the lack of male nudity on Game of Thrones… Every single thought that came across your mind was spilled at an impassive Bucky.

When your mouth went dry of talking and not a word had come out of Bucky’s plump lips you excused yourself to the toilet, taking your purse with you.

Inside the small room, you took a deep breath and, while staring at the mirror to retouch your lipstick, you wondered when everything had started to go to shit. Maybe you weren’t ready after all…

Walking back towards the table, you decided to give it another try, start over and maybe have a pleasant rest of night with your date. You glimpsed Bucky by his back talking on his cellphone and the sound of your name made you stop close enough to overhear the conversation.

“What can I tell you Steve? Jesus, she won’t stop talking… And I don’t understand half of the things she’s saying. I can’t see why you and Sharon insisted on this dating thing… Besides, you were wrong… Not for a minute I was able to get Natasha out of my head… Y/N’s got nothing on her, she is not slightly as amazing as Nat…”

You felt your stomach drop to the floor and your heart sank. Bucky kept talking, but there was a buzz in your ears, loud enough to drown out every other sound around you. The restaurant and everything else transformed into a very familiar scenario. It was like Jeff was by your side all over again and his unwanted voice in your mind was reminding you of how distasteful, insignificant and unlovable you were. Your hands started shaking and tears were forming in your eyes, that was the signal you needed to turn around and leave as fast as you could. No goodbyes. You never wanted to see Bucky Barnes in your life again.

~~~

When you got to your bedroom after the longest cab ride in your life, your attention was caught by the pathetic form in front of the mirror on your wall. You knew that the woman he was comparing you with was THE Natasha Romanoff, the sexiest spy alive whose seductiveness haunted you poor hard worker mortals who were trying to make a living in the secret agent’s business. How could he even make the comparison when clearly there was none. You were average, tops. Flat where you should be curvy and curvy where you should be flat.

Someone could think that you’d be able to beat you lousy sex-appeal by a dashing interesting personality, but this someone would be wrong. If you had doubts about it, the last few moments with Bucky had dismissed them all, he was pretty clear about how unpleasant your company had been… Not slightly as amazing…

Knowing that you were going down a road too familiar for your taste, you attempted to dismiss all those self-hatred thoughts off of your mind by trying to get some sleep, hoping to dream a sweet dream that would make you forget all about that night. So you took off the dress you’d bought for the occasion and left it on the floor, found some energy in you to remove the full face makeup and brushed your teeth before diving into your bed, putting on some pjs was too much to ask of you at that moment.  

 ~~~

Your alarm rang and it felt like it had been 5 minutes since you finally conquered slumber. You groaned at the sound and the prospect of getting up to face the day ahead. Your half-asleep mind immediately drifted to the night before. Something you were so desperately trying to keep dormant inside you had awakened. The wounds on your self-esteem were too fresh and those words had hit them like a punch.

Despite the desire to keep drowned in your fort of blankets,  you couldn’t skip work. You had a meeting with The Man himself, Nick Fury. You had no idea what it would be about, you were warned by his secretary the day before.

You shook away your thoughts about the date with Bucky and got off the bed.  You had much more important things to worry about and focus on. At least you wouldn’t have to see him again, as the SHIELD’S operating base wasn’t located at the Avengers’ Tower.

Not much time passed before you were ready to go to work, after all it wasn’t that hard to choose an outfit from a wardrobe of grey suits. On your commute to SHIELD’s headquarters you remembered to take a look on your phone. 5 missed calls from Sharon. …he’s a really sweet guy once you get to know him, you’re gonna love the man … You mimic her voice in your head and memorized an entire speech of curses to deliver to the blonde for when you meet her again.

Once inside the building you already felt a little better. Work was your whole life, especially now, you loved what you did and felt appreciated and wanted there. You went straight to the big boss’s office, feeling nervous about whatever the infamous Nicky Fury wanted to talk to you.

“Hi Y/N, how are you today?” Maria Hill greeted you, putting an arm around your shoulder, guiding you to the adjacent room of the large office.

“Hi Maria, a little anxious for whatever this means, any clues?” she gave you a squeeze on your shoulder and smiled at you, but another voice responded:

“Miss Y/L/N, you’re here because I have a proposition for you.” It was the SHIELD’S director, using his well-known straightforward style.

“Tony Stark has contacted me and asked for the name, and I quote, of the most badass spy I could provide him.” Having an idea of where that conversation was heading, but not allowing yourself to fully believe it, you kept a dumbfounded stare at your boss in front of you, waiting for the outcome.

“So, Miss Y/L/N, how would you fancy a position on the Avengers’ team?” The weakness in your knees and the sweat leaking out of your pores must had been pretty evident, since Maria Hill placed her hand on the low of your back, in a support attempt.

“Oh my God sir, it’s such an honor…” your tremulous voice was interrupted by Fury, clearly in a hurry:  

“Good, you’re being transferred today to the Avengers compound, Maria will help you with paperwork and everything else that will be necessary for your relocation…”  He talked in a monotone, gathering some papers on the desk he was standing by, apparently oblivious by the rush of adrenaline that was swelling down your whole body. Suddenly  Maria’s support didn’t seem enough to prevent you from falling, so you gripped one hand on the desk chair in front of you, biting your lower lip so you wouldn’t let out the scream taking place in your mind. You had never thought something like that would happen, but now that it was a reality you felt like you had dreamed about it your whole life.

“You’ll go through evaluations and training for some time and then it will be decided if you really have what it takes to be an Avenger…” I’m going to be a fucking Avenger, bitch. You were trying to maintain some posture and conceal your excitement by listening carefully to the instructions that would change your life.

“Your main tutor for the starting process will give you the guidelines and other details, he’s most likely now waiting for you at the compound. You’ve already had the chance to meet Sgt. James Barnes, haven’t you?”

And just like that you went straight to the floor from cloud 9. FUCK.


End of part 1. 

Part 2 

So? Feedbacks? 

One of his moods (S.M. smut)

A/N: Shawn, waking you up in the middle of the night by eating you out. This wasn’t requested or anything but I do take requests as well as submissions so…. if you’re interested. Also, I am extremely tired at the moment so if this is crappy and short I’m sorry :) 

  “mmm fuck” I moan. I feel hands on my thighs and a warm wet tongue on my core.

   Consciousness washes over me but I’m still too tired to open my eyes. I reach my hand down to where the pleasure was coming from and I feel a familiar head of hair between my legs. I can tell by the chirping of the birds and the lack of light shining on my lids that it can’t be past 6 am but Shawn is one for spontaneity so this isn’t a huge shocker. 

   His hand finds my own that rests at my side and locks our fingers together, he gives a little squeeze as his tongue slowly drags itself up my folds. When the tip of his tongue meets my clit, he holds it there and applies pressure before beginning to flick it lightly. I open my eyes as another moan slips past my lips. His tongue leaves my bundle of nerves and I can hear him swallow some saliva. “am I mouth watering?” I tease, my voice drowning in rasp from slumber. He chuckles and I see his shadow sit up and soon after, he’s crawling up my body. “You are, actually” I can almost hear the smirk I know he’s wearing. 

   "Taste" he whispers and his lips meet mine. The soft pink muscle that was just working wonders on my center is now doing the same in my mouth. His, lips are so slick which makes our kiss very noisy but I’m not complaining and neither his he. He nudges my head to the side and gives himself access to my neck which he begins to nibble and lick on. With my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms wrapped around his broad back, I pull him closer and now I can feel that he’s still fully clothed. He must be in one of his “this is all about you” moods. I’m definitely not arguing with that. His hand leaves the side of my face and slides down to my core. 

He rubs me until his fingers are coated and begins to massage circles on my clit. My head falls back and it feels as though every bit of air has been vacuumed out of my body. He finds my lips again but this time he uses no tongue. He gives me a nice, deep kiss. Then another. Then a third. My toes curl as I feel my stomach tightening from how close I am. My slow breathing has now turned into full on pants and my head is absolutely spinning. He hisses against my lips before gently tugging my bottom one with his teeth and letting it snap back. “ahh Shawn please don’t stop” I whimper. 

 "I won’t” he groans.

 I can tell that having me come undone underneath him is satisfying by the way he’s moaning without me physically pleasing him. My back arches as my legs start to subtly quiver. “fuck…yes baby mmm” 

 “that feels good?” He asks, face directly above mine, looking for any sign of me not enjoying this. 

  That’s one thing that annoys me about my little Shawnie. He’s never sure of himself even when I’m literally telling him how good he’s making me feel. “I’m gonna-yes oh shawn…shawn” My moans are getting louder and louder but I can’t help it. “fuck Y/N you sound so damn sexy” I hear him say but too wrapped up in this burning sensation inside me to tell him how cheesy he sounded. My nails run down his back with enough caution to not actually injure him. Just wanna leave a couple red lines. 

  His fingers move quicker now that he knows I’m almost there. He dips his hand down to collect more of my juices before continuing to rub me. Over and over and over. “oh I’m there-fuck Shawn! Ohhhh” he finally pushes me over the edge and he keeps drawing circles on my clit to ride out my orgasm. His name is the only word leaving my mouth. I come down from my high, Shawn’s hand no longer moving but still resting on my center.

    He leans down to kiss me and I feel a smile stretch across his mouth before we part. “Was that ok?” He chuckled. “Babe…” “I know. You hate when I ask but I just…I like to be sure that I’m giving you what you need” he says nervously. “You are giving me what I need, Shawnie. That was amazing…random but amazing” I laugh and he laughs too. He rolls off of me and pulls the blanket over us. 

 “What was that for anyway?” I ask as I yawn, still drunk off of sleepiness. 

 “I just couldn’t sleep. Don’t worry about it you can return the favor later on” once again, I can hear him smirking by the tone of his voice. I shake my head and cuddle into him. He loves being the little spoon. 

 I feel myself drifting off….I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

Day with Dad - reidxreader

Anon requested: Can you do an imagine where the reader and Spencer have a six year old daughter and the reader is sick so Spencer spends the day with his daughter?

ok this is such a cute request I love it.

I’ve read one shots where the daughter’s name is Harper as in Harper Lee the author so I used that in this story, i can’t for the fucking life of me remember who’s fic it was so if anyone knows who i’m referring to pls tell me. i’m gonna try to figure it out so i can give them credit for the name but right now my mind is blank. i think it was @dontshootmespence but i can’t be sure??? gaaaahhhhh anyway enjoy this i hope u like it!

Originally posted by lizthirose


Due to your tossing and turning all night you hadn’t slept very well. Thankfully, your husband had a flexible work day today and you had off. 

At 9 am — possibly the latest your six year old daughter ever slept in — you opened your eyes and began to say good morning to Spencer, but your throat was so sore that it hurt.

He furrowed his eyebrows. He lifted the back of his hand to your forehead and commented, “You’re warm. How are you feeling, do you think you might be sick?”

“I didn’t sleep much last night,” you admitted weakly. “I’m probably sick. My throat hurts, I have a headache, and I’m hot and cold at the same time.”

He pouted. “I’m sorry, love. I’m going to spend the day with Harper so you can get some rest.” Spencer gave you medicine and everything else you’d need, kissed your forehead, and closed the bedroom door behind him after getting ready for the day ahead of him.

Harper, your six year old daughter, was sitting on her bed trying to tie her shoes when Spencer walked in. She had impressively gotten dressed without being asked. Harper huffed and looked up at her dad with a defeated expression.

“Do you want to come into work with daddy today?” Spencer asked. He crouched down next to the pink bed and tied her shoes as her mood changed and she squealed with excitement.

“Is aunt JJ gonna be there?” she asked. Spencer smiled, “Of course!”

Harper jumped off of the bed and stood in front of the mirror. Spencer followed, then brushed through her hair and braided it. He’d like to think he’s gotten pretty good at that.

“Where’s mommy?” she asked. Spencer picked the small girl up to bring her to the kitchen for some breakfast.

“Mommy’s sick today, but she’s going to be okay. We can go give her a kiss before we leave.” he replied. Harper seemed satisfied with that answer, she nodded and sat down to eat her cereal as Spencer made himself coffee and her, chocolate milk.

After breakfast, Spencer carried his bag on one arm and Harper in the other to your bedroom. You were finally sleeping.

Spencer held a finger to his lips to tell Harper not to say anything. She kissed your cheek and whispered, “Bye mommy,” and Spencer kissed your forehead and said, “Bye, Y/N.”

And with that, Spencer drove to the BAU with Harper singing along to the radio in the back seat. He didn’t particularly like this kind of music but she did, so he’d keep it on.

“Hey, Hotch,” Spencer said into the phone. “Y/N is sick today and can’t watch Harper, so can I bring her in with me for a little while? I won’t be there long today anyway.” He secretly prayed that he’d say yes, because if not he was kind of screwed here.

On the other end of the line, Hotch smiled. Harper was so sweet, and after the case the team had dealt with last week, they needed a distraction. “Yeah, Reid, that’s fine.” They hung up.

Spencer parked in his spot, holding his daughter’s hand as they walked into the building and then into the elevator. (He let her press the buttons, she seemed to like that.)

They walked off the lift. Harper immediately let go of her dad’s hand to run over to JJ.

“What in the world are you doing here?” JJ asked excitedly. She picked her up and hugged her.

“Mama’s sick, so daddy brought me here.”

JJ nodded. “So, have you had a good day so far with your dad?”

Harper nodded. “Yeah! He said we’re going to go to the park later.”

“Well, that’s exciting,” Derek commented as he walked towards them. 

“Uncle Derek!” Harper exclaimed. He picked her up and she had a huge smile on her face. Spencer was almost afraid the poor girl would explode, this was so much excitement in so little time. 

Penelope came out of her office. She immediately squealed when she saw Harper. She asked her who did her hair, and Harper proudly told her that her daddy did it. Everyone seemed impressed by this. “What?” Spencer asked, chuckling, “You think I have a six year old daughter and don’t know how to do her hair?”

As Harper happily talked and played with Spencer’s team, he smiled gently at how wonderful she was. She was just like you. 

Harper was sweet and caring, she was considerate and beautiful, she was fun and positive. All of which she got from you. On the other hand, she was thoughtful and questioning, and cute and persistent, much like himself. She had his brown eyes which you loved, because every time you looked at her there was a reminder of the beautiful life you’d created with Spencer.

After a little while, everyone was sad that they had to get back to work. Spencer set his daughter up next to him at his desk with some paper and crayons he’d found in his drawers, because she loved to draw and that’d keep her occupied.

It had been about 15 minutes. “Daddy,” she said, moving to sit in his lap, “I drew this for you.”

He smiled proudly at the small picture she’d colored in. It was clearly supposed to be of your family, with you and Spencer on the sides and Harper in the middle holding both of your hands. “This is so good, sweetheart. Can I keep it here?”

She smiled. “Yeah! Put it there.” She placed it in front of an actual photo he had of her in a frame. He laughed at his daughter.


After Harper gave everyone on the floor a hug, and I mean everyone, she and her dad left. They went to the park, and then to lunch, and then back home to check on her mommy and watch a movie in the living room.

Harper ran straight to your bedroom after walking through the front door. You were awake this time, and pulled her into bed next to you.

“Are you still sick, mama?” 

Truthfully, you still weren’t feeling your best but you didn’t feel very sick anymore. The medicine proved to be effective and sleep was very helpful.

“Not anymore, baby. How was your day with daddy?” You asked. You smoothed her hair back while she cuddled into your side.

“Great!” She said, then proceeded to tell you every detail of her day. Spencer walked in and laid next to her.

For about an hour, the three of you laid under the covers of your bed and watched whatever show Harper decided she wanted to see. You loved your little family, with an adorable daughter and a perfect husband. 


MASTERLIST.

Whatever else you might want to say about STAR WARS fandom, I have SO MUCH AFFECTION for it, there are so many people writing really good stories and drawing really beautiful art and coming up with really great scenarios and especially in PT fandom there’s a group of people that I never have to apologize for being a fan of the prequels. I don’t have to feel like I’m expected to preface everything with qualifiers, instead I can just whole-heartedly embrace what I love and that it’s good for me, that I honestly enjoy it genuinely, that this part of fandom absolutely embraces the good and loves these characters and this world/galaxy with me.

Every time I sink into a really good fic, when I come out of it, I remember, yes, I am so glad to be here, I’m so glad there are others who are filled with just as much genuine love for these characters as I am. So here’s another list of fics that give me that happy, fizzy feeling of being in a fandom I love. (Fic recs every Wednesday.)

STAR WARS FIC RECS:
Soldier, Poet, King by Glare, obi-wan/anakin & qui-gon & mace & dooku & palpatine & cast, sith!obi-wan, 91.9k wip
   Second chances are very rarely given, but the Force smiles upon two of its favorite children and returns them to a time before their actions have met their consequences. Anakin Skywalker, also known as Darth Vader, seeks redemption while Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, disillusioned with the Jedi Order and its Code, falls to the Darkness.
Capture and Release by Rocket_Sith, obi-wan/anakin, some bondage, 13.9k wip
   Anakin’s past comes back to haunt him unexpectedly during a mission. What starts as Obi-Wan’s attempt to help him face his fears takes on a life of its own and evolves into so much more.
wicked thing by imaginarykat, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, nsfw, sith!obi-wan, 97.3k wip
   In which Anakin recognises the Council has made a decision, but given that it’s a stupid ass decision, he elects to ignore it.
untitled by writegowrite, obi-wan/anakin, modern au, ~1k
   prompt: 40. exes meeting again after not speaking for years au
Time To Go by light_mantled_albatross, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 19.7k
   A version of the “Anakin doesn’t find Ventress at the end of season 5, with the result that Ahsoka gets Dramatically Sentenced To Death” plotline.
untitled Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan fic by stonefreeak, obi-wan & anakin, 4.4k
   ask: do Anakin and Obi-Wan FINALLY talk after Anakin’s panic attack? Even a little??
Echoes of Mortis by wreckageofstars, obi-wan & anakin/padme & ahsoka, 67.3k
   Post-Mortis Arc AU. In a universe where the Father failed to take away Anakin’s vision of the future, the Hero With No Fear struggles with the knowledge of what he will become and the knowledge of who, exactly, is responsible. Drastic steps are taken and in the process things go a little bit…sideways.
Conspiracy Theorist Obi-Wan Kenobi by tcf-dendral, obi-wan & cast, 1.1k
   His hindsight, Obi-Wan thinks, was not twenty-twenty in this instance, and he wishes he had thought ahead to the possible consequences of what seemed like an inconsequential action at the time. Mostly, he would do better in the future to remember how information, true or not, tends to spread like wildfire across the HoloNet.
untitled by phosphorescent-naidheachd, padme & cast, ~1k
   Picture Padmé – not a Sith, not particularly Force sensitive, but Palpatine’s protégé and confidant nonetheless.
Do Not Compel Me So by Mithrigil, anakin & cast, 1k
   Anakin has always had an easy time getting what he wants. (He never means to do it.)
untitled by cadesama, anakin & aphra, 1k
   windona asked: Prompt: Pre-ESB, Vader has a chance to send a message to Luke without Luke knowing it’s Vader.
untitled by stonefreeak, obi-wan & palpatine, 1.4k
   prompt: Obi-Wan gets a bit grumpy with a droid. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t - Jedi ways and all that. But it’s private and he has too much to deal with without an analysis droid rating his performance as Chancellor
Let your heart be light by imaginedestiel, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 5.1k
   Obi-Wan does his best to keep Anakin warm while they celebrate a little time off together.
hold the harmony (breathe) by engmaresh, obi-wan/anakin/padme, 1.7k
   Of course their ship crashed. Of course there’s a blizzard, with no hope for immediate help. But they’ve got blankets, food, and well, each other. In which Anakin and Padme invite Obi-Wan into their bed blanket fort.
Death’s Shade by Susan Zell, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 30.9k
   A devious plot by the enemy is initiated that could wipe out the Jedi without firing a weapon, leaving Obi-wan Kenobi fighting for his last breath as Anakin races to save him.

full details + recs under the cut!

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Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner?

Spoiler Alert: It’s Barba. Barba’s coming to dinner.

This was from a request received a LONG time ago regarding: Barba dating someone with a conservative/racist family from the Midwest. I can’t find the exact request to link to, but I had this in my WIP drafts with the bolded line as the title so… here we go.

Originally posted by sherrykinss

Please note: I absolutely mean no offense on any side for this little story, and am definitely utilizing stereotypes in both regards: My father’s side of the family was very conservative and blissfully-ignorant… I am absolutely basing this on people in my own Midwest-World experience.


“What kind of name is Barba?”

Rafael winced at the announcement of his name. “Cuban,” he advised simply, before leaning across and smiling at your aunt. “The dinner is delicious by the way, Ma'am.”

Why were you here? 

How had he convinced you that this would be a good idea? You hadn’t wanted to subject him to this. No, not at all, you had actually not even told him the invitation had arrived- he had found it on your fridge one evening he was visiting you after work.

An invitation. Who sends invitations for dinner parties?
Your sweet Aunt, of course.

“Cuban, eh?” Naturally, your father regarded this as an interesting opportunity(excuse) to be as passive-aggressive as humanly possible. “Is it normal over there to date younger?”

Younger? You were barely four years younger than your date…

Oh God; you took up your wine glass and gulped, calm Rafael only smiled and lay a palm atop your thigh to try and convey just how ‘fine’ this all was. “No, I just happen to be lucky enough to have caught youthful (Your Name)’s eye.”

Fine. That was how he said this evening would go- just fine.
The only Fine thing about this were the China dishes your aunt had pulled out from hiding.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Prompt: winter soldier abducts Tony to be his new handler and falls for him

I’m really liking this idea, so I might write some more parts to go along with it, though I’m not sure…. I hope you like it though!


The Asset wakes up in a room filled with light. He keeps his eyes shut, face calm, and breathing regular, though the usual slivers of fear make their way through his chest.

He’s gone through this countless times. He wakes up, sits still, and waits for his Handler to bring him to the chair for recalibration. It will hurt, and he will scream, so they’ll dial it up to teach him silence.

This time is different, however, as the light isn’t harsh and cutting, but soft. The room is warm, not freezing cold, and the soft clatter of what sounds like cooking reaches his ears.

His eyes flash open, adapting immediately to the lights, and he takes in the scene in front of him. A man moves around the brightly lit kitchen, talking to himself as he does so. He’s too young to drink with this century’s laws, short and unhealthily skinny, with large brown eyes that make the Asset want to… he’s not sure what he wants to do.

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Toafo Uhila

Hey, Kat! It’s my birthday! Have a fic!

oOo

Their first meeting goes something like this:

It starts with a chūnin in a sandy village trying desperately to not die of boredom. It starts with a beautiful blond leaning up against a wall, dressed in casual clothing and watching the night life as it bustles around them. It starts with a drunk jōnin swaggering over and pinching the other’s ass, earning a yelp from the blond. “Very nice ass, sugar,” he slurs out and leans in to try and get a kiss, only to receive a fist to his face. He staggers back, dropping his bottle and reaching up to clutch at his now freely bleeding nose. His friends immediately leap to his aid, coming up in a defensive formation.

“How dare you,” the blond hisses and the hitai-ate with a leaf engraved on it gleams in the moonlight. Through his drunken haze, the jōnin staggers forward and raids the pouch on his thigh for a kunai, raising it high. Pale, white light glints off of the blade and the blond rolls his eyes.

“That is quite enough. I do believe I’ve warned you before, Eiji.” A redhead lands gracefully on the ground, lips drawn into a thin, unimpressed line. There’s a large gourd on his back and what looks like gold sand is spilling out from the opening at the top. “Consider yourself in quite a bit of trouble.” The blond shivers slightly, enjoying the glide of the redhead’s voice as it forms each word. Opposing village or not, it’s a silky smooth tone that he, if he was being completely honest with himself, wouldn’t mind murmuring filthy things into his ear.

Eiji snarls and takes a step forward, spitting out, “Look here, you—” but his friends quickly drag him into the nearest shadows and the redhead turns to the blond.

“You are well, no?” the redhead asks. “Perhaps you shouldn’t venture into things that you can’t handle.” Never mind. He wants to spike the other in the face. Preferably with the nearest, heaviest, sharpest object he can find.

The blond twitches slightly, the vein in his jaw spasming. “I,” he begins and it’s perfectly polite, a thin undertone of agitation gliding just underneath the surface, “am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” The unspoken ‘asshole’ does not go unheard.

“Well then,” redhead says and the amusement in the tone makes the blond want to murder him right then and there, “I shall let you take care of yourself, then.” And with that, he’s gone, the sand below him swallowing up his form.

“You absolute asshole,” the blond spits, scowling at the now empty spot.

“Hey, kiddo!” The blond spins on his heel and turns the vicious glare on the now approaching male.

Yes?” he grinds out through clenched teeth.

Jiraiya raises his hands in the universal sign of surrender and smiles like he isn’t facing a pissy blond. “You ready for the exams?”

Minato’s scowl morphs into a sharp smile that’s little more than teeth. “Oh, yes.”

And that was the end of their first meeting.

oOo

Their second meeting kinda goes like this:

Minato actually does get around to punching the redhead in the face.

“That wasn’t nice,” the redhead slurs and his voice is still amazing, even with a severely bleeding nose. It’s not quite as smooth as usual, just slightly rough due to him pinching his nose to stop the blood from getting all over his jōnin vest, but it’s still enough to make Minato shiver with need.

He’s only a newly minted jōnin himself, but the blond is certain that with both the Hiraishin and his Rasengen, he can take on the world. Maybe.

“Yes, well,” he returns, coolly, “maybe you shouldn’t startle me while I am making seals.”

The redhead rolls his eyes and curls healing chakra around his nose, snapping it back into place with a rather sickening crack.

Minato’s lips twitch up just slightly. He had actually broken the other’s nose with the force of his punch. That had been one of the most satisfying things he’s done in quite a while. “I do apologize,” redhead drawls, sounding anything but apologetic and Minato barely resists the urge to leap to his feet and punch him again.

“Liar,” he mutters under his breath, mentally cursing his weakness for smooth voices.

The other still hears him. “I’m hurt, pretty.”

He raises his fist and shakes it just slightly. “Call me pretty again….” Minato hisses and trails off, blue eyes gleaming with promised death.

“Very well.” the redhead says, raising his hands in surrender. “I shall see you later….pretty.” And then he’s gone, leaping over the rooftops before the blond can retaliate.

“You son of a bitch!” Minato bellows after him, fury painting every single word. He sinks back down to the ground and picks up his brush, mentally vowing to make the other pay.

He still doesn’t know the redhead’s name.

That was the end of their second meeting.

oOo

Their third meeting goes a little like this:

Minato’s smile is like death, all thin and evil with his lips pulled back to reveal far more teeth than psychically possible. The redhead in front of him shivers slightly and takes a step back, understandably wary. “Good evening,” the blond says, smile widening even further.

“Ah, uh, good evening, pretty?” It’s definitely phrased like a question and Minato’s eyes slide closed into little ‘U’s when the redhead takes a step back. The other shinobi in Konoha’s bathhouse, the ones who know about Minato’s vicious temper, carefully sidle out of the blond’s line of sight. They have no interest in being caught up in the explosion.

“Duck,” Minato purrs out. The redhead blinks confusedly at him for a moment and then yelps when the blond punches him in the face, again, as hard as he can.

“The fuck was that for?” he slurs out, clutching at his freely gushing nose.

“I did warn you about calling me 'pretty’,” the blond says easily, dropping his towel and sliding into the water.

“Honestly,” a third voice complains and Minato glances up when Orochimaru steps into the hot spring. A dark glare is all that’s needed to clear the entire place out, leaving just the three of them in the water and the Sannin relaxes with a sigh. An evil smirk flickers over their lips. “I hope you realize, Namikaze, that I will not be explaining to sensei if this becomes an international incident.”

Minato’s smirk is just as sinister. “Well then, Orochimaru-sama,” he says sweetly, “if you won’t say anything, then I won’t tell sensei about you spending lots of, ah, time with Hatake-sama.” He grins innocently when Orochimaru slips underneath the water, surfacing with a loud splutter. “Oops, was that supposed to be a secret? So sorry,” the blond coos, not sounding the least bit sorry.

“You!” the Sannin splutters, coughing as they spit out a mouthful of water.

“Should I come back later?” the redhead asks, looking like he wants to be anywhere but here at this exact moment. There’s a crack as he snaps his nose back into place for the second time in a row.

“I will string you up by your balls and feed you your own liver if you so much as twitch,” Minato says, a blue eye flickering to glance at the other.

The redhead scowls. “I don’t even know your name,” he complains.

“Oh? So sorry. I should give it to you, then.”

“Well?”

Minato shrugs. “I don’t know yours.”

Orochimaru heaves a ragged sigh and drops their head into their hands. “You punched a Suna jōnin without ever learning their name. Great. Just fucking great. And here I was hoping Jiraiya hadn’t managed to infect you.”

A beaming smile is his answer and the blond leans back against the edge of the pool, basking in the warmth of the water and the sunlight. “Sensei has been nothing but a perfect role model,” he says, the very picture of innocence.

“That’s…that’s what I was afraid of,” the Sannin breathes weakly, looking very much like they wish they had access to alcohol at this very moment. They sigh and drag a hand over their face, shoving dark hair out of golden eyes.

The redhead takes the chance to bolt for the entrance; he abandons his clothing and escapes wearing nothing but a towel, yes, but at least he makes it out alive and in one piece. Konoha shinobi, he thinks, shivering at the howl of rage that echoes behind him, are insane.

And that was the end of their third meeting.

oOo

Their fourth meeting is explosive:

Rasa’s in the middle of speaking with two other jōnin sensei about the final part of Konoha’s chūnin exams when what feels like a bucket of water is dumped over his head. A quick swipe of his fingers in the substance reveals purple paint. Purple glittery paint. The vein above one of his eyes twitches, and he can already see his comrades causally backing away from his seething form. Laughter echoes above him and Rasa spins on the ball of his foot, gold dust already writhing as it escapes from the gourd on his back.

There. On the roof. It’s that damn blond from before; the one who broke his nose twice already.

On a better day, Rasa wouldn’t even consider trying to murder an allied shinobi. On a better day, he might even laugh at the prank, then go take a shower. On a better day, he wouldn’t be brandishing a kunai and trying to rip someone’s throat out. Today…today is not one of those days, and Rasa snarls furiously, lunging forward before he can even get a grip on his temper. The blond dodges to the side, flipping gracefully onto another roof and covers his mouth again, smirking between his fingers. Rasa sees red.

“I,” he hisses, so close to actually committing murder, “am going to rip your throat out.”

“Kinky,” the blond calls back and his smile widens further at Rasa’s snarl of rage. “But you’re going to have to catch me first.” His form flickers once, then vanishes in a burst of yellow; he reappears further down the road, waves a hand, and then vanishes again.

Rasa screams in fury, his comrades snicker, and he immediately leaps to give chase. He’s going to drown the other in their own blood.

He still has no clue to their name, other than their last.

That’s the end of their fourth meeting.

oOo

Their fifth meeting is even worse:

Murder is not an appropriate way to deal with frustrating coworkers.

Murder is not an appropriate way to deal with frustrating coworkers.

Murder is not an approp— Rasa cuts his thoughts off halfway through the sentence and growls at one of his fellow shinobi. Not even three hours after he had attempted to hunt down and murder the blond—He failed, pretty miserably too—and his coworkers are already smirking at him.

“Quite the spitfire, ah?” one says, pushing brown hair over her shoulders, lips quirked up in that infuriating smirk Rasa has come to hate.

I will drown you in your own blood,” he hisses, partially because he’s furious and partially because he can’t leave that response unanswered. She puts her hands up in the universal sign of surrender, but the smirk on her face doesn’t change. Rasa narrows his eyes at her, darkens his glare, and hopes that nothing else can go wrong.

The universe, as always, likes to prove him wrong, and then laugh at his misery.

With a flash of bright yellow light, the blond reappears on the rooftop. He doesn’t even look tired, and there’s a massive grin on his lips. “Wow,” he says, looking pleased with himself, “only three hours before giving up? That’s sad.” He shakes his head slowly, almost like he’s disappointed. “Not a lot of fun with a chase. Peaks really quickly without touch and absolutely no stamina at all.”

Beside Rasa the brunet chokes, then starts laughing hysterically, mouthing 'No stamina’ like it’s a prayer from Kami itself. On her left, the ginger begins cackling and slumps against a wall in an attempt to stay upright. Rasa fumes, and because he’s petty like that, pops the cork on his gold dust just so he can flood the area with sand.

Glancing around when the dust has settled somewhat, Rasa’s already feeling smug at the sight of the ginger and brunet cursing his name as they spit the grit out of their mouths. His gaze flickers upwards, and the redhead is already preparing for the sight of the blond in the same situation, when he actually gets a look.

That fucking bastard is wind affinity and running a Kami-damned slipstream, the sand-filled air shifting around him, never once touching the Konoha jōnin uniform. Rasa would be impressed if he wasn’t in the middle of contemplating murder.

Just before he can actually use his chakra to fill the other with spears made of sand, he laughs, bows, and vanishes in a burst of yellow. The veins in Rasa’s jaw jump.

And that was the end of their fifth meeting.

oOo

Their sixth meeting is simultaneously worse and better:

“I would like to introduce my successor, Namikaze Minato,” Sandaime Hokage Sarutobi Hiruzen says, gesturing towards the doors of the Halls of the Kage Council. Namikaze, Rasa thinks with a slight twitch, sounds awfully familiar. He glances up just as the doors open and snarls when a horribly familiar blond practically skips through.

“YOU!” Rasa bellows and slams a hand down on the table hard enough to spread minute cracks along the surface. The other Kages jerk at his volume, but the redhead is too furious to care.

“I wasn’t aware that you two knew each other, Rasa,” Sarutobi says, looking like he’s half an inch away from pinching the bridge of his nose.

“He broke my nose,” Rasa seethes. “Twice.” White eyebrows shoot up and Sarutobi actually reaches to pinch the bridge of his nose, an exasperated sigh escaping his mouth.

Namikaze smiles sunnily at him. “You startled me while I was working on my seals.”

“You punched me because I called you pretty,” the Kazekage informs him flatly.

“Yes, well, that too,” the blond says with a careless shrug, and Rasa makes a sound like a boiling teakettle. Namikaze merely beams in his direction and takes a seat. “Now, where were we?”

Murder is not an appropriate response to annoying Kage, Rasa thinks, sinking into his own seat with a mute sort of fury, but I sure wish it was.

We have to go!

Hello!  So this isn’t speculative or anything but just a funny sweet little drabble that takes place after the events of Season 5.  It’s slightly NSFW.

Felicity lays in the bed relaxed, feeling the mild aftershocks from the vibrations that rocked her body cocoon her in a warm laziness.  She keeps her eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of all her nerve endings firing.  Dimly aware of the hands gripping her waist, the scratchy beard currently making its way from her center where it had recently been feasting.  Lips placing small kisses on her stomach then inching slowly up her torso.  She peeks an eye open and sees the sheets still draped around Oliver’s head, shoulder and chest obscuring him from view.  Felicity sighs happily, one hand still tangled in the hair on his head, the other arm loosely draping a shoulder.  

“Not a bad way to start the morning,” she murmurs.  He doesn’t reply, too busy kissing her breast, pulling the nipple into his mouth before licking it lightly.  In response, she arches her back slightly and he slides his arm in the gap holding her to him.  She lets her head hang loosely back, her mouth parting slightly, breath quickening, feeling small bubbles of excitement starting to re-form.

He presses an arm down into the mattress, pulling himself up and out of the sheets, so that he can lean down and kiss her on the mouth, sliding his tongue into hers, nipping at her lip gently.

“MmmHmm” Oliver rumbles against her mouth.  He pulls away and she opens her eyes to see him looking down at her smiling.

Felicity blushes, for some reason, the intensity of his blue eyes focused on her makes her suddenly self-conscious, “What?” she says.

“I love the way you look right now.”

“Why, because I look like a woman who’s been well satisfied?” Felicity teases.

Oliver laughs, “a little.” Then he shakes his head, his eyes softening, “because it’s just for me.  When we’re alone, I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

Oliver leans down, kisses Felicity again.  Felicity wraps her arms around him, pulling him down on top of her, luxuriating in the feel of his muscular form pressed against her softer form.  

She turns her head to the side as Oliver trails kisses down her jaw line to the nape of her neck. She stares at the alarm clock ‘7:45am.’ It takes a moment to register.  SHIT.  7:45 AM.

“Is that the time?” She asks, panic making her voice rise into a squeak.  Oliver doesn’t respond, merely grunting as he continues to suck at her neck intently.

Felicity slaps at his shoulders, scrambling to get out from under Oliver.  “Oh my god, why didn’t you tell me it was so late!”  Ignoring his murmured protestations, she bounces to the edge of the bed, evading Oliver’s arms as he tries to pull her back into the warmth of their nest of sheets.  “I’m serious. If we’re late again, he’s going to kill me!”  As she stands, Oliver flops face down into the sheets in defeat.  Felicity rolls her eyes, not that he can see her now.

She scurries around the room, gathering clothes, and Oliver props an arm on the bed and watches her, “You’re not going to be late.”  

“Easy for you to say,” Felicity retorts, “Mayor doesn’t have to be in the office until he wants Queen!”  Felicity disappears into the bathroom.


Felicity’s heels click down the stairs just as Oliver pours a cup of coffee into a metal tumbler screwing on the lid tightly.  She throws down her coat and purse, sticking a piece of toast in her mouth as she struggles with the clasp on her bracelet.  Oliver walks over taking over the clasp closing duties, then pulls the toast from her mouth and bites into it himself.  Felicity smiles at him, still harried and distracted, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”  He pulls her towards him, kissing her on the lips, her fresh clean scent enveloping him.

“C’MON!  We’re going to be late…AGAIN!”  William stands between them impatiently looking at them in disgust.  He’s already dressed with his backpack slung around his shoulders.  

Felicity’s eyes widen as if to say, I told you he was going to be mad.

Oliver bites his lip struggling to keep a straight face, he turns to William asking, “Did you eat breakfast?”

“Yes, I ate breakfast.” William huffs picking up Felicity’s things and practically throwing them at her as he attempts to steer her to the door. She lets him.  “We’re going to be late.”  He repeats insistent and annoyed.

Oliver hands Felicity her coffee and pulls William into a quick hug, which he accepts for a moment before squirming out of the embrace to pull open the front door.

“Hey.”  Oliver says stopping them. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Felicity and William look back at him blankly and Oliver leans forward giving Felicity a kiss.  

William sighs loudly, “Are you kidding me!”

But, Oliver ignores him, smiling at Felicity, “You have a good day.” And then he leans down and presses his mouth against the small swell of Felicity’s stomach.  Oliver places a kiss on her belly, whispering, “and you too little one.”

Felicity smiles, shaking her head at Oliver.  “The baby is like the size of a banana.”  

Oliver straightens still smiling and leans in again to kiss her mouth, when William’s frustrated voice breaks through, “We have to go!”  Oliver and Felicity exchange an amused look and abort the kiss.

“Okay, Okay!” Felicity capitulates, “Let’s go.”  William charges through the door and before Felicity walks through, she murmurs, “Demanding and bossy, I wonder where he gets that from.”

Oliver squints at her, “Funny.”  But when she turns to look over her shoulder at him and grins, he smiles good-naturedly back.

Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #22

Happy Valentine’s Day, Gen Lovers! No, I didn’t do this on purpose. I’m just slow on getting the recs out this week. It’s becoming less every week and more every seven to ten days. But I have some good ones this week/somewhat-more-than-a-week!

Rules: You can find past rec lists here. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

(Not) A Competition by beloved_key
Words: 3,176 (WIP 1/?)
Author’s Summary: Normally, Lance is pretty good at letting Shiro know he’s not feeling his best. Better than the other paladins, anyway. But when Keith issues a challenge on the morning Lance wakes up with a bitch of a cold, before Lance can go to Shiro, well… It’s not like Lance can just back down, right? Besides, he’s not even that sick. He’ll be fine. Definitely. Based on a prompt by whumpcity on Tumblr
My Comments: SUCH a well-written sickfic, ahhh, I love it. Everyone is in character, and Lance is a dumb teenage boy, but oh my, I do love him. I have the feeling this is just getting started, and I can’t wait for more.

Usual by temporalgambit
Words: 1,953
Author’s Summary:  A pit stop on an unfamiliar planet brings unintended consequences. Allura runs damage control.
My Comments: All the paladins are sick! And apparently Alteans don’t get colds, so Allura is VERY concerned. Extremely cute and fluffy.

Collision Course by winterysomnium
Words: 5,342
Author’s Summary: Keith gets adopted by the Galra empire rebellion, basically.
My Comments: SUCH A GOOD AU. I am all for any fic where Keith gets adopted, by as many people as possible, please. Based on that “Dads of Marmora” art you’ve probably seen, and if you haven’t, you’re missing out. I love the conclusion.

A Tale of Space Cake by imagymnasia
Words: 2,793
Author’s Summary: Hunk’s got a surprise for the Castle of Lions gang– one the Alteans aren’t too sure about.
My Comments: Hunk is the cutest and the sweetest and the best. It’s so nice to see everyone so happy, too, and the ending was perfect. Hunk and Allura!

Scattered by avidbeader
Words: 27,974 (WIP 11/?)
Author’s Summary: Separated by Haggar’s parting shot, the Alteans and their new Paladins must regroup and find one another across the galaxies. Along the way, they will discover tragedy, treachery, and hope. Season 2 AU, no ships.
My Comments: Really good action fic following the Season 1 finale. I got sucked into all of the paladins’ separate adventures really quickly, and it’s so satisfying to watch them slowly reunite. I’m really worried about Keith, though.

We’re Onto Something by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)
Words: 3,269
Author’s Summary: Over their years of friendship, Lance and Hunk slept pressed together many times. All that changed were the places. Until things did change.
My Comments: Sweet, fluffy Hance. This is exactly how it would go for them, just a sweet slow slide from casual friendship to something not quite so casual.

Shook the Bones of Me by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)
Words: 2,295
Author’s Summary: Little things begin to add up, until Shiro is forced to face another change about himself. From a request on Tumblr: Shiro has a metal skeleton.
My Comments: The title is completely appropriate. This is sad and horrific, not in a blood and gore way, but in a fundamental violation kind of way. Poor Shiro. I really liked the ending, though. Powerful stuff.

and every color illuminates by contagionangel
Words: 14,881
Author’s Summary: In a reality without Shiro’s dramatic escape and crash, how might the other pilots find the blue lion? Keith as a twenty-year-old dropout who’s left society to be an amateur archaeologist out of a desert shack. Three of the Garrison’s remaining best and brightest invade his life, in a way that’s great and kind of terrible. He makes the best life choices he can, and they get him to space. (Same AU as “your sacred stars won’t be guiding you”, but can be read on its own.)
My Comments: Pre-Polydins. This fic is insanely beautiful. I love how everyone slowly becomes incredibly important to each other, and I love their separate journeys of learning and understanding. I love that they had time to PREPARE. Still want more in this ‘verse, though. They’re not complete until they have Shiro with them. A fundamental puzzle piece is missing, and it itches.

A Name Is a Powerful Thing by windscryer
Words: 2,221
Author’s Summary: Green wants to know why her Paladin has more than one name and ends up learning how her Paladin came to her from so far away.
My Comments: What a lovely, satisfying fic. I love the green lion’s voice in this, and how she and Pidge/Katie communicate. The curious kitty and the curious paladin–they’re beautiful together.

Aftermath by tristen84
Words: 1,975
Author’s Summary: After his ordeal at the Blade of Marmora base, Keith turns out to be in worse shape than he thought. Hunk and Lance try to help.
My Comments: I believe there was a call for more post-ep 8 Keith whump? Yes, it is here. I especially like that it’s Lance and Hunk who do the supporting in this one.

Lost and Found by LittleWhiteTie
Words: 4,030
Author’s Summary: “Keith?” Shiro’s voice is barely a whisper, hoarse and wavering with disbelief. Conflicting emotions seize Keith’s heart at the sound of Shiro’s voice: utter relief in that they’ve finally found him; sheer horror in that they’ve found him here.
My Comments: Mild Sheith. What Shiro went through in this one is absolutely brutal and horrific, but at least we’re focused on the rescue and hugging afterward. Very good, protective Keith here. Shiro deserves to be protected and comforted, especially after something so harrowing.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:
Road Trip to End Times by VelkynKarma
Someplace Like Home by squirenonny
Aid by Haurvatat
Thread the Needle by Emerald_Ashes
bombs and bullets by ashinan
One Week to Say Goodbye by squirenonny
how to win friends, influence people, and form voltron by brosura
Love and Other Questions by squirenonny
Silver Lining by HeIsSoBlue
Where No One Goes by earthstar
The Size Of Our Actions by buttered_onions
Remember Me For Centuries by 0bviousLeigh (now complete)

Illustrated Haiku // Ten Chittaphon

-

the prompt: a soulmate!ten au where y/n loves to write poetry on her arms, and ten likes to illustrate them.

words: 4157

category: fluff

authors note: this isn’t a request, it’s just something I was working on so I hope you guys like it! (also appreciate the gif below of my lil bub)

– destinee

Originally posted by visualjaehyun

Keep reading

Lindworm

@ofhealinglove You don’t know me and I don’t know you well, but I know you like MadaSaku and life can suck, but MadaSaku always makes things better for me. Story is inspired by the folktale of the Lindworm. I hope you like it.


Once upon a time a queen fell into despair after many years of being unable to carry a child. Her kingdom was without an heir and her home devoid of sweet children. She was weeping in the garden when an old woman approached her, asking about her tears. When the queen told the old woman it was because she was barren the old woman held out a pair of pruning sheers.

“Go into your garden and you will find one red rose and one white rose. If you eat the white rose you will bear a girl, the red rose will give you a son, but be warned, you must only eat one of these roses, to devour both would be unwise.”

“The queen does as the old woman instructs and finds the roses in her garden. Thinking it over, the queen plucks the red rose and eats it, thinking of her future son. But then her heart begins to long for a daughter, and before she can remember the old woman’s warning, she devours the white rose as well.

“Nine months pass and soon comes the time for the queen to deliver her child. Heavy with child, she labors for many hours before she is able to push her child free, but a babe does not greet the midwives. With a roar like that of a fire’s, a lindworm slithers from her room and snakes out the window in wings of long leather. Following the worm, the queen discharges a healthy human boy, wailing in crying. The queen swears her midwives to secrecy and all is well in the land for seventeen and a half odd years.

But then the noble prince grows up and is taken with the heart for adventure of the most rewarding kind. He wishes to find a wife to make his heart sing. With his father’s blessing, he prepares to depart on such a journey when on the road the mighty dragon blocks their path. With the words of moral men the dragon demands a bride as is his birthright. The prince tries three more times, and the same even occurs. Bringing this news home, the queen finally breaks down and reveals her treachery. Yes, the monster is truly her son, and her first born. The young son may not marry until the eldest is taken with a bride.

The king sends for princess of far off kingdoms to please his worm son, but one after the other, they are eaten by the monster on their wedding night. Distraught and in a panic as to what they can do with their son, the king and queen begin kidnapping girls from nearby villages to wed to their son, praying one will break the curse and satisfy his desires.

“And that’s how I ended up here, isn’t it?” Sakura asked with a wicked smirk.

Staring wide eyed, the chancellor gaped openly for a good solid minute before recovering. Pushing his glasses up, the dark haired man squeaked. “Rumors being what they are, there is always exaggeration to be found-“

“Cut the bull, Iruka, I don’t buy it.  Get to the point of what you wanted to say earlier.”

Iruka, to his credit, looked ashamed. “Beg your pardon, but I suspect the allure of marrying into royalty would not move you to give yourself over. I’m sorry, but you are the only one of our staff that does not have a father to speak for her. You’ve been with us only a month, but you’ve never had post or visitors and you don’t go into town. You won’t be…missed.”

Sakura frowned, crossing her arms over her chest and staring out to the side at the gardens she was tending. Her hands were dirty, and her dress was little more than rags fit for working in. She hadn’t tried to look nice in her new office of employment, in fact, she had purposely tied up her hair and kept it wrapped under and scarf so that no one would see it and remember her for it. She liked to remain unnoticed and be the person people forgot about first. It made travel from one place to another easy. 

At least, that’s how she felt when she was working on jobs. When she was freelancing, she was a whole other story.

“Do I have a choice in any of this, or are you going to seize me in the night and drag me gagged and bound before his highness?”

Iruka stuttered. “I-I am so sorry, my good lady. Isn’t there anything you might want? To live as a princess for even a day is more than some girls can hope for.”

“Ah,” Sakura mused, exaggerating the tapping of her chin in thought. “But it is only for one day. To live for one more day, what would I trade for that?”

Iruka looked off to the side and Sakura followed his line of sight to the guards who patrolled back and forth on shifts that rotated ever four to six hours. Poor Iruka, to be the man who strong-arms the girls into this deadly fate.

“I guess there are some things I want. If the king will give these to me, I will consent and marry his worm of a son without complaint.”

“You will?” Iruka’s eyes were almost as wide as when she first recounted the story that had been so closely guarded. Not even the kitchen staff could speak or hear of it, and the kitchen staff knew nearly everything. “W-w-whatever you want, it is yours, the king will surly grant you your wish.”

Sakura held up three fingers. “First, I want seven dresses, each one a half a size larger than the last so that I might wear them all at once. These are the dresses I will wear on my wedding night so I can’t marry him until then. Secondly, on the night of our wedding, in the room where bride and groom consummate their vows, I want a copper basin filled with milk from a cow that is without spot or blemish.”

“Those are…” he struggled to find the words, “odd requests if ever I’ve heard them. What is the third thing you ask for?”

Sakura smiled, cheekily. “I’ll let the king know that myself, since it depends on how the night goes. Once my dresses are made, let me know and I will come for the prince, until then, leave me to work in the garden.”

“You don’t want a room fit for a princess?”

Sakura snorted, turning her back on Iruka and picking up the ho she had been using. In a simple move, she swung the ho out and buried its metal into the dirt. The lines in her back stood out, betraying the secret strength that coiled under her skin. She was a delicate looking creature, but Iruka suspected there was more to her than such a fragile frame. No one else thought to look twice at her, including him, but now he thought better of it. She was a tricky woman, one that set him off balance, and one he was all the better leaving to her own devices.

“I will leave you to your work then, my good lady,” he said with a nod, turning to let the king and queen know of his good news.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

RFA trying to get a hyper!MC to go to bed? Maybe she had wayyyy too much coffee or something? I really like your hcs so I wonder how you might do this one. Thank you! ^^

Aw thanks so much! It means so much to me that someone likes my writing! Sorry this took me a while… I don’t really know what it’s like to be hyper T - T

Yoosung

  • How could you have so much energy for 11:30 in the evening?
  • He stares at you from the couch as you time yourself for another round of 2048. Eyes glued to the screen, you play again and again, trying to beat your own five minute record.
  • Yoosung gets the uncomfortable feeling that that crazed expression on your face is similar to how he looks like when he plays LOLOL.
  • He becomes alarmed when he looks up from his notes an hour later to find you bustling about the kitchen trying to bake brownies. You were a terrible cook!
  • It was a dangerous idea to keep his eyes off of you for even a minute when you were in one of these moods.
  • You would become unpredictable and listless after a day spent lazing on the couch.
  • He supposes it makes sense for so much inactivity to make way for hyperactivity.
  • He stops working and approaches you.
  • “MC? Don’t you think it’s about time to go to bed?”
  • “No.”
  • “It’s getting late, and you didn’t really get a lot of sleep last night either…”
  • “No! I want to bake you something for breakfast. I’m not the best baker, but this time will be different. You like brownies, don’t you, Yoosung?~”
  • He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. How was he going to get you to bed with that attitude? There would be no arguing with you now. Shouldn’t she still get some sleep, though?
  • Yoosung is too timid to protest, but he’s so worried that you’ll end up burning the flat down that he tries to stay awake to watch over you.
  • Before he knows it, his eyelids are drooping. He ends up falling asleep on the counter just before you’re about to stick the pan the in oven.
  • Luckily, you decide to stop when you see how exhausted your boyfriend is. He’s snoozing away with his head in his arms, snoring lightly with his mouth slightly open.
  • You feel guilty once you realise that you probably terrified him by trying to cook unsupervised. You poke his nose. “Yoosung?”
  • “Huh…? MC?”
  • “Let’s go to bed, okay?”
  • “That,” He says through a soft, half-lidded smile, “would be awesome.”

Jaehee

  • She suspects you’re tipsy, judging from the way you’ve been chattering away non-stop for the past half hour.
  • She pats herself on the back for not drinking herself. Leading you home when you were this excited was bad enough, but leading you home while both of you were intoxicated? Jaehee shivered t the thought of it.
  • She braces herself for a night of exasperation.
  • Being tipsy seemed to send you into a spontaneous burst of activity. All of a sudden her reserved girlfriend would be talking, eating, and laughing without pause.
  • Jaehee’s eyes widen in panic when you choose to sprint across the street and into the apartment building without so much as a glance at the passing traffic.
  • MC is really talented. Was she a gymnast in another life? Or perhaps a track star? If I’m not mistaken, she was wearing her six-inch stilettos just now, right?
  • She chases after you and finds you in the living room trying to draw a portrait of yourself and your darling “Baehee”.
  • Jaehee is surprised to discover that she finds this behavior endearing. Though, it’s unfortunate that you’ve nearly knocked the lamp over from laughing too hard when you forget to draw eyes on yourself.
  • “Baehee! Come look at this! Don’t I look like a mop?”
  • “MC? Isn’t it about time we get to bed?”
  • “Wait, wait, wait. Let me draw Zen in here, too.”
  • Jaehee bites her tongue to refrain from asking you to rethink your artistic interpretation of Zen. That’s a horse?! Please don’t tell me she’s saying that Zen is that horse.
  • “Look, Baehee! It’s Zen! He’s a pony because of his ponytail!”
  • Okay, now it’s definitely time for bed.
  • She’s gone crazy. The alcohol must be interfering with her memory…
  • “MC, let’s go to sleep now.”
  • “But why? Don’t you like my drawings?”
  • “Yes! But Zen would like this drawing even more! In fact, if you sleep now, maybe you can wake up early enough to catch him before his next rehearsal! In fact, I’ll join you!”
  • “Really?!”
  • “Yes! You’ve captured his likeness perfectly. He will be so glad to receive such a… lifelike portrait!”
  • You giggle before beaming back at her. “Okay! I’ll go get changed now. Don’t forget!”
  • Jaehee sighs and massages her temples.
  • I hope Zen will forgive me for this.

Zen

  • Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to let you binge on all those sweets just because “A girl has to live every once in a while, OK?” 
  • He was getting drowsy, but you definitely weren’t. 
  • It was 1:30… You would typically be asleep by 11:00. 
  • As delightful as it was to see you acting so playful, you definitely didn’t giggle this much. Ever. And that half-crazed look in your eyes wasn’t normal either. 
  • You were totally on a sugar high. 
  • When you weren’t scrolling through memes or doubling over with laughter from the most insignificant of details, you would poke his cheek or tug on his shirt, asking him to feed you another bite of chocolate cake. 
  • It’s rare for Zen to be the one nagging you to go to bed. Still, he shakes his head and puts the plates away. “No, MC. It’s time to go to sleep. Don’t you have class tomorrow?”
  • “One more bite? Please~?” 
  • It takes everything in him to resist that pleading look on your face. Why does she have to be so cute? Maybe… No. No, Zen. Don’t give in. “Sorry, babe. Bedtime.” 
  • He turns to leave, but it takes him a few moments to realise that you haven’t been following along behind him. “MC?” Fuck! He walks back to the dining room. 
  • You’ve gone into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and were about to slice yourself another piece of cake. “NO!” 
  • He runs to the kitchen just before you’re about to take a bite, sweeping you into his arms bridal-style. “No! Zen! One more bite!” You struggle against him, but Zen only sighs and lifts you away.
  • He looks at you. “Be a good girl, please?” 
  • “But you always stay up this late…”
  • “Yeah, but you don’t.” 
  • Is surprised that he’s being the “responsible” one tonight. 
  • He tries to conceal his fatigue as he carries you up the stairs. Though, you’ve already taken notice of how tired his eyes look. 
  • “I guess I shouldn’t have had all that chocolate, huh?”
  • He laughs. “Maybe not.”
  • Zen smiles when kiss him on the cheek and say you’ll “be a good girl tonight” just for him. 

Jumin 

  • He doesn’t understand where all your energy is coming from.
  • He himself was exhausted from the party the two of you had just attended, yet here you are - multitasking like there’s no tomorrow.
  • Jumin has to admit that it takes some skill to be able to keep Elizabeth the 3rd fully occupied while simultaneously building a tower out of a deck of cards. 
  • However, he also thinks that your constant laughter coupled with the frantic way you’re running about is rather unusual. 
  • He finds it entertaining until you’re holding Elizabeth the 3rd up in the air the way Rafiki held Simba up on Pride Rock in the Lion King - it’s giving him flashbacks of Saeyoung and he definitely isn’t having any more of that. 
  • He gets up and pries Elizabeth free from your grasp. 
  • “But, Jumin! How can I make a card palace for Elizabeth if I can’t even tell if she’s going to fit in it?
  • “MC? Don’t you think it’s time to go to bed?”
  • You frown. “No.” 
  • “No?”
  • “I don’t think I can go to bed. There’s so much to do! Tell me- have you ever built a tower from marshmallows and uncooked pasta? Oh! I should make a tower for Elizabeth! Give her here, Jumin. Elizabeth~” 
  • Oh boy. He gets the idea you’ll be up to nonsense until morning if he doesn’t get you into bed now. Besides, he doesn’t want to see anyone rough-housing with Elizabeth - the poor thing looked terrified. 
  • “Elizabeth the 3rd and I will be going to bed now.”
  • “No!” You whine. “She’s meant to be the highlight of my creation.”
  • “It’s late, MC. Let’s get to bed. Please?” He watches you contemplate his suggestion before adding, “Bed, MC. Or I’ll make you.”
  • He meant for that line to imply some innuendo, so it’s a bit of a blow to his pride when you narrow your eyes at that last remark. How infuriating. Finally, he promises that Elizabeth the 3rd can sleep next to you if you agree to go to bed now. 
  • The enthusiasm at which you accept that concession almost makes him want to pout. Elizabeth over me…?
  • He realises he’s lost when you turn to him from the top of stairs and ask. “I really am feeling restless, Jumin. Should I take a shower? Or will you make me do that, too?” 

707/Saeyoung

  • He doesn’t find anything unusual at first. Sure, he thought you were a bit more lively than usual - after all, trying to teach yourself how to juggle at 10:00 is a bit eccentric even for Saeyoung. 
  • But he knows something is off when you suggest doing pilates this late in the evening. He raises a brow at you. But… she hates physical activity…
  • Now you’ve stolen his glasses and are giggling at your own appearance in front of the mirror. Yeah, okay. She’s acting strange.
  • “MC? Why is the coffee pot empty?”
  • “I drank it all~” You reply, flashing him a satisfied smile. 
  • There’s no way he’s going to let you pull an all nighter. He’s experienced firsthand what you’re like when you’ve been deprived of sleep and he isn’t exactly fond of the zombie you become. 
  • Saeyoung tries to lure you to bed in a playful way. 
  • “Hey, MC! I’ve got a really good idea.”
  • You look up from the robot dog you’ve been decking out with ribbons. “What is it?”
  • “Let’s play a game.”
  • “Yes!”
  • “I’ll hide my glasses, and you’ll try to find them. The winner gets one free wish.” 
  • “You’re on!” 
  • He’s blind for the next hour and a half, but the effort wears you out. You had climbed bookshelves and crouched down to check the undersides of his sports cars - all to no avail. 
  • Saeyoung can’t believe his plan worked. He thought you would lose focus and set about doing some other silly task - like decking him out with ribbons, for example. 
  • He melts when he sees you yawning because the sight of it reminds him of a puppy. “Saeyoung? I think I lost.”
  • “Yeah?”
  • You rub your eyes. “Where are they? Your glasses? Aren’t you blind right now?”
  • “I am. But now that you’ve lost you have to grant my wish.”
  • “Hmph. Don’t say something corny like ‘be mine forever’. I’ll punch you.” 
  • Saeyoung laughs. I knew she’d say that. “No. For now Iet’s just get some rest. Okay?”
  • You nod and give him a thumbs up. “You’ve got it, Captain.” He tucks you into bed and settles in beside you, chuckling to himself as he removes his glasses from the back of your hoodie. 
Etched In Ink- An Ivar Imagine

So this is what I wrote yesterday instead of attending to my responsibilities. I’ve been wanting to write this idea for a while, hope you enjoy!

TW: blood, knife play, tattooing with a needle

******
“Are you sure about this?”

Ivar rolls his eyes, spreading out his tools on the long, well worn table. “I have told you already, woman, I’ve seen it done many times. It does not appear all that difficult.”

You fidget nervously with the neckline of your dress, watching your lover wipe down a very long and very sharp needle. You shiver.

“Yes, but you’ve never actually done it before,” you point out, your voice laced with anxiety. “What if you make a mistake? What if you tap too hard and accidentally kill me? What if-”

Ivar cuts you off with a soft growl. “You said you wanted a tattoo. I said I wanted to be the one to give it to you. Here we are. Are you going to get up on the table or not?”

He gives you a hard look, his beautiful blue eyes burning into your skin. You sigh. You do really want a tattoo. And you trust your body with your lover implicitly. He has taken perfect and reverent care of it since you first offered it to him. So you cross the room and climb up onto the table.

“That’s my good, sweet girl,” he praises you as you lie down. He glides a hand over your face and down your neck, touch light as a feather. You can feel the familiar flush creep up your body as he expertly unties the front laces of your dress. He pushes the fabric down to reveal the skin right over your heart. One calloused finger circles the area, brushing over the top of your left breast teasingly. Shivers shoot down your spine.

“Are you going to tattoo me, or just grope me?” You ask, your voice coming out more breathy that it should. He chuckles darkly, hand covering your breast and squeezing roughly. You shoot him a glare, even though you are half tempted to forget the tattooing and make him put his hand in other places.

“What is if that you want? You never did say,” He asks, removing his hand to prepare the needle.

“A Vegvisir,” you say, and watch as his brow furrows in confusion.

“You want a compass?”

“Yes,” you nod, firm in your decision. “And I will tell you why after this infernal process is over.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you wish.” He looks at the patch of skin again. “I think I will have to lay out a pattern first, so I have something to work off of.” He reaches down to his belt and pulls out his knife. “I will just carve it lightly into your skin with this.” A smirk blooms across his face. “This at least you are well acquainted with.”

Are you ever. Ivar loves to use his knife on you when you are alone and nestled under the furs. He also loves to have it used on him in return. It’s not something you would have foreseen yourself enjoying, but Ivar has a way of drawing out the deepest and darkest parts of you and twisting them to your mutual pleasure.

“Hold still, sweet girl,” he places the blade against your skin, the coolness of the metal familiar and a little thrilling. You wince slightly as he makes the first shallow cut, his brows drawn together in concentration.

“You know, you may have to be more careful with the marks you leave on me,” you try your best to keep perfectly still. “Yesterday the new slave girl who helped me bathe asked if I’d been bitten by a wild animal.”

He continues working but his face splits into a feral grin, no doubt picturing the very red and fresh bite mark he’d left on your inner right thigh the other night. “What did you tell her?”

It’s your turn to grin. “I said yes.”

That makes him bark out a laugh, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners in the way you love. “Naughty thing,” he teases.

It doesn’t take him long to carve out the design. Before you know it he is putting down his knife and leaning forward to press his face into your chest. You suck in a breath, waiting for what you know is coming. Ivar does not wipe away blood. At least not with his hands.

The first stroke of his velvety tongue has you sighing in bliss. The warmth and wet feels wonderful on the sting of the shallow cuts. He licks in long, slow strokes, pausing every once and a while to let out a soft groan of pleasure. You melt to a languid liquid under his ministrations, your bones becoming soft and pliant and ready to bend to his complete will.

He pulls back all too soon, licking his lips like a cat who ate the cream. You watch the last of your crimson blood disappear into his mouth, unable to help but squirm as heat creeps up your spine. Ivar notices, and chides you gently with a wicked smile.

“Not yet, sweet girl,” he coos, picking up the ink and the dye. “Afterwards, if you are very good and keep very still, I will reward you. Now, I must get to work, or we will be here all night.”

You huff in frustration but attempt to calm your body. After all, you do really want this tattoo. You can be patient.

You watch him place the ready needle against your skin. A stab of fear runs trough you. It’s silly really, you’ve had his blade on you more time than you can count and you’ve never felt anything but excitement. This shouldn’t be much different. Except if he makes a mistake, you’ll have to walk around with it on your body for the rest of your life.

Ivar does not coddle you as he senses your fear, however. He simply gives you a broad wink, and taps the needle into your skin.

It hurts, but not as much as you thought it would. It feels like being stabbed with a million little tiny knives, over and over again. Painful, but not unbearable. You decide to focus on Ivar’s face, letting your eyes linger on every handsome feature. The stormy blue eyes, the sharp cheekbones, the soft, pouty lips, the strong jaw. A face you have come to love more dearly than you could have even imagined. You think of the meaning of the ink he is currently etching in to your skin and you feel your heart swell. You hope he will like the symbolism of your tattoo.

You lie on the table for what feels like forever. Ivar barely says anything, his face a mask of concentration. You’d given up trying to talk to him after he’d snapped at you to shut up and let him work. You have tried your best to keep still but you find yourself squirming more than once. Each time, Ivar had hissed through his teeth and you had quickly stilled. But you’d been here for ages. If you were on this table much longer, you’d go mad.

“There,” Ivar says finally, pulling away and removing the needle from your skin. “I think I am finished.”

“How does it look?” You ask anxiously, craning your neck to try to get a glimpse of the ink now permenantly a part of you. Ivar reaches behind him and produces a piece of reflective glass Bjorn had procured on his latest Mediterranean raid. You sit up slowly, wincing at the ache in your chest.

“See for yourself,” he hands you the glass, a self satisfied look on his face. You take it from him, taking a deep breath before looking. You let out a surprised gasp.

It’s beautiful. Pure, midnight black lines, perfectly etched. The shape is even, everything is in its proper place. You smile as you admire it. You had to say, your lover had done an amazing job.

“I love it,” you turn your gaze to Ivar, who gives you a genuine smile in return. “Thank you, Ivar. It’s beautiful.”

“I told you it would be fine,” he takes the reflective glass from you, putting it back where he took it from. “Now will you tell me why you chose a Vegvisir?”

You reach out and take his broad hand. It completely envelops yours, strong, deft fingers covering your own.

“A Vegvisir is a compass, a magical symbol made to help one find their way through rough weather,” you squeeze his hand, suddenly feeling nervous. “You are my compass, my guide through the rough weather. When I touch or see this tattoo, I will be reminded that though life will have storms, as long as I have you, I can get through them.”

You meet his eyes, and the honest surprise and almost child-like hope in them make your heart ache. You have told Ivar you love him before, but from the way he is looking at you now it seems like there was a part of him that never really believed you. Now, with your love for him permanently on your body, he maybe can finally understand and accept the depth of your emotions.

“I am your compass, your way through the storm,” he breathes, his other hand reaching out to gently brush the tender inked area. “I am on your body, in ink and blood.”

You bring the hand holding your own to your lips, kissing his weathered knuckles. “Yes, Ivar. For always.”

His hands are then cradling your face, his breath fanning across your skin as he leans in.

“My sweet girl,” he sighs, “do you even know how perfect you are?”

And then his mouth is devouring yours, tongue hot against your own as he kisses you like a man starving for it. You kiss back eagerly, though with you on the table and him seated beside it’s an awkward angle. But you do not care. You can only think, feel, and taste Ivar. He invades every one of your senses, sinking into your very flesh like the midnight ink shining on your chest. Every fibre of your being cries out for him, and you find yourself whimpering desperately against his lips.

He pulls away, his face once again in the array of arrogant confidence you are used to. “Such a good girl you were under the needle,” he purrs, and you whimper again as his hands slide down to your waist. “You stayed very still for me. I think my sweet girl deserves her reward now, don’t you?”

You can only nod, following his impatient hands as he tugs you off the table and on to his lap. His hungry mouth finds your neck, sucking greedily at the tender flesh. You wriggle against him, the ache from the tattoo being replaced with an ache of a totally different kind.

“Suppose I should get a tattoo for you now,” he groans into your neck as you dig your nails harshly into his shoulders. “Maybe you could even give it to me. Odin above, the thought of you pushing a sharp needle through my skin over and over…” he breaks off with a violent shudder.

You smirk, reaching for his knife still laying upon the table. “Why don’t you let me practice then?” You run the tip of the blade over the shell of his ear, delighting in the animalistic growl that tears from his throat.

“I am supposed to be rewarding you,” his teeth nip harshly at your pulse point. You grab a hold of his luscious hair and pull his head back so you can look into his lust glazed eyes. You trace his parted lips with the knife, and his eyes go almost completely black.

“Oh honey,” you coo, excitement and lust and passion boiling hotly in your veins, “to have you in any way is a reward to me. Now be a good boy and beg.”

Another feral growl, and his hands tighten eagerly on your waist. His head bows slightly, his eyes look down at the floor. He says nothing, but the beginning of his submission has started. It’s rare he lets you take the reins, and you feel like your need for him is about to burst out of your skin.

You grin, your new tattoo throbbing in time with your racing pulse.

This was going to be one hell of a good reward.

****
Happy Monday, sister wives! ❤️❤️