you have no right to be in the cushions of the couch i'm sitting on

Bundle Of Joy - Part Three

Originally posted by bovaria

Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Parent!Reader
Summery: Reader invites Bucky in for a drink.
Warnings: None
Part OnePart Two


“So, you’re unmarried.”

It wasn’t a question, yet he had said it with slight hesitation. You hadn’t even noticed the way Bucky had been eyeing your ringless finger as the two of you walked down the empty street, your left hand only visible to him because you had wrapped it around your daughter, shifting her weight off of your chest. Now that he had mentioned it, you suddenly realized that up until this point he had no reason to think that you were a single parent.

“Yeah,” You murmured, your hand curling into a tight fist before you let it drop by your side. “Terribly modern of me, I know. No boyfriend either.”

“Nothing wrong with modern.” Bucky chuckled.

As the two of you turned the corner, your apartment building came into view. The plain, unpainted redbrick structure was connected to every other building on its side of the road, completely identical to those parallel. Craning your head back, you saw that the windows of your apartment were dark - just the way you had left them.
Bucky walked with you all the way to the front door.

“Well,” you started, unwrapping your arm from his, “this is me.”

Even with your daughter fastened against your chest, the cold night sent a violent shiver down your spine. With one hand you gripped your jacket closer to your body in a futile attempt to generate warmth, enveloping your sleeping daughter in the fabric.

“Would you like to come in and have a drink or something?” You asked Bucky, looking up at him with a hopeful smile. “You don’t have to, of course. It’s late and I completely understand if you don’t wanna - ”

“ - I’d love to.” Bucky accepted loudly as a car drove by, cutting you off from you rambling with a bright smile and a short laugh. Your stomach filled with butterflies as you gazed at him, your knees going weak as you felt your heart swell with joy. You could’ve stood there on the doormat until the sun rose above the city, just admiring him.

“Alright then,” You say, turning to the green painted door and pressing one of the five buzzers beside it - the one labeled Ms Vivian Chambers.

“Don’t you have a key?” Bucky asked you, his brow creasing in bewilderment.
You peered at him over your shoulder, taking a step back to look at the fourth set of windows above you.

“Lost them a little while go, but Viv doesn’t mind. I swear she’s nocturnal.”

Bucky didn’t have time to reply, because just as he parted his lips the lock clicked and you swung the old door open.

He followed close behind you as you entered, finding a seldom used staircase and no sign of an elevator upon entry. The place was gorgeous. Polished wood made up the stairs and rails and a red carpet matched the red with gold designed wallpaper.

“Coming?” You asked him from where you stood on the stairs, watching him as he took in his surroundings.

“Uh - yeah.” He said, jogging up the first few steps to catch up with you.

‘Keep quiet,” You hushed as the stairs creaked underneath him. “If Vivian finds you here, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Bucky chuckled. “I can’t remember the last time I did this.”

“Did what?” You asked, passing the first apartment door and up the second flight of stairs.

“Sneak pass snoopy neighbours with a pretty girl.”

You faltered on the steps as his words reached your ears.

“That’s cute.” You murmured, feeling your cheeks burn.

Once the two of you arrived at on the third landing, you walked straight up to the dark green door, took hold of the handle and kicked, the door reluctantly opening at you show of force. Then a shout came from up stairs.

“Is that you, (Y/N)?” Called down Vivian Chambers. “Who’s that you’ve got with you?”

Your hand fell from the doorknob, leaving it ajar, and you stepped to the side, lent over the railing and peered up at the older woman. “Hello, Viv!”

Vivian Chambers was much older than yourself, with bleached blonde hair that had been sprayed relentlessly until it stood on end in a 80s styled poof. She was tall - even without the killer heels she always wore - and had huge filled red lips. Her voice was scratchy (might have had something to do with how she always had a cigarette in hand) and oddly low. She grinned down at you, the corners of her eyes stretching with her expression. “Hello, dear.”

Licking your lips in hesitation, you looked back at Bucky, gesturing for him to come over. He clasped his right hand over his mouth to suppress his laugh and did as you instructed, relaxing his face before looking up at Vivian himself.

“Ma'am.”

“Whoa!” Vivian exclaimed as soon as he came into her line of vision. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“This is Bucky.” You introduced. “He’s a friend.”

“Oh, honey. Just a friend?” Her laugh was breathy and echoed throughout the building. “A guy like that ain’t just a friend, but if that’s the case Buckaroo, you’re welcome to come up to my apartment. Put some tunes on and…you know.”

“You’re old enough to be his mother!” You choked, tears coming to your eyes as you tried not to bend over in laughter.

Viv gave you a cheeky grin and took a puff of her cig. “Darling, we’re the same age!”

You waved your hand in a dismissive way and turned back to your door, hearing her leave the stairs above. “Yes, well. Parts of us are.”

Giving Bucky a apologetic look, you quietly let him, your daughter and yourself into you apartment. Shutting the door behind you and flicking on the lights, you revealed the mismatched furniture that resided within the bare, red bricked walls.

“Home sweet home.” You stated, stepping into the main living area and throwing your coat over the back of the brown leather couch to your left. The apartment smelt of sandalwood incense with a slightly dusty undertone that tickled your daughters nose, making her sneeze.

“Oop!” You laughed, unclipping the fastenings of the baby carrier. “Hello, sleepyhead.”

Your daughter didn’t seem that fazed by her small series of sneezes and merely whined and snuggled closer to your breast. Heaving a sigh, you preyed her from your body along with the baby carrier and walked passed Bucky into the next room. There you unbuckled your daughter and let her down in her cot to sleep.

“Ms Chambers doesn’t that bad.”

“Ha!” You laughed, walking back into your living room area where Bucky had sat himself down on your couch. “You don’t know her like I do. Trust me, as soon as you’re gone she’s going to be straight down here with a bottle of something and will try to cox your entire life story out of me.”

“Now, what would you like to drink, Bucky?” You asked him.

“What do you have?”

Opening the cabinets above the kitchen bench, you peered at the bottles you had in store there. “White and red wine and bourbon.”

“Glass of white for me, thanks.”

You twisted around to look at him. “Seriously?”

“What?”

“Nothing,” You said, taking the wine bottle out, “it’s just that you’re possibly the first guy I’ve known who’d rather white over red.”

Pouring yourself and Bucky a glass each, you balanced the glasses in each hand as you walked over to him, the bottle tucked under your arm. Taking his glass, Bucky budged over to allow you space to sit down next to him after you set the wine bottle of the coffee table. Shifting around on the cushions, you sat to face him.

“So,” You begin, “tell me about yourself, Buck.”



BUNDLE OF JOY TAGLIST

@paranoid-borderline-insane @dance4angels @kennadance14 @fab-notfat @cassandras-musings @livasaurasrex @iamwarrenspeace @hollycornish @greek-freak101 @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @priettierthanyou @purplekitten30

heythereitsmo  asked:

Mark Tuan + #29 (don't you kill me Shan)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Mark Tuan

Prompt: “How is my wife more badass than me?”

Rating: PG

Word Count: 564

Originally posted by ceohan


Control (Epilogue)

“I just worry about him, you know?”

Mark speaks against your head, lips moving into your hair. He refuses to unwrap his arms from around your waist where you sit, cradled between his thighs. As you nod, you flip a page in your book. “True. But Mark, Jackson is a big boy. He’ll be fine on his own.”

Mark sighs. “I know. It’s just … he left all his crap here.”

Snorting, you finally look up. The apartment is a mess – has been for weeks now. Jackson left practically all of his things behind when he moved out. The vase with no flowers rests on your kitchen table, two of his rugs still lean against the wall. Jackson did it on purpose, winking and throwing his arms out as he declared well wishes for your new home.

“Well.” You stare at the stuff, dubious. “I suppose we could always throw it out.”

“And risk offending Jackson Wang?” Mark is scandalized. “I’ve seen him kick box, Y/N. We don’t stand a chance.”

“Hey.” Twisting in his arms, you mock-frown. “I could take him.”

“That’s true. You are pretty terrifying.” Mark struggles to hide his grin, shaking a fist at the ceiling. “How, God? How is my wife more badass than me?

Giggling, you swat him. “I think your job trumps mine any day. All you have to do is say, ‘Hi. I’m Mark Tuan. I fight fires and rescue damsels in distress.’ Bam. Badass.”

“Aha!” Mark grins. “At last, the truth. So you admit you were in distress?”

Wrinkling your nose, you sit back on your heels. Mark makes a small noise of protest at the removal of your warmth. “Distress? Me? Never.”

Mark pouts. “Maybe you weren’t distressed, but I am. Right now. Come back before I make you.”

Instead of answering, you back further away.

Mark watches, eyes glinting and he pushes forward. “I’m warning you, Y/N.”

Wriggling your eyebrows at him, you move further away. And further until – “Oh, shit!” You fall off the couch.

Mark’s concerned face appears over the edge, wide eyed. “You okay?” At the sight of you, hair askew and cheeks flushed, he bursts out laughing.

“It’s not funny.”

Mark’s eyes close and he rolls back on the sofa, continuing to laugh. 

Grabbing your book from the floor, you rise up on your knees to thwack him on the leg.

“Ow!” he yelps, still laughing as he grabs the book from your hands. “This is much too dangerous for you to have, Y/N. Paper cuts are a real and serious problem that kill one American a year.”

“You made that up.”

“Eight one percent of statistics are made up on the spot.”

“You made that up.”

Mark cracks a smile. “Come back here.”

Grumbling, you climb from the floor to settle on top of him. “Happy?”

“Mm.” Mark’s smile fades looking up at you. Softly, he pushes himself up from the cushions until you’re face to face. His left hand comes up quietly to brush a strand of hair behind one ear. “Have I told you how happy I am?”

Lacing your hands around his waist, you nod. “Once or twice.” Mark kisses the tip of your nose and you smile. “Have I told you how happy I am?”

“Once or twice.”

“Mm. Well, I’m very happy.” Your gaze moves to the ring on Mark’s left hand. “Mr. Tuan.”

“Mrs. Tuan.”

[2,000 Followers Drabble Game]

anonymous asked:

either 4 or 15 with garrus/shep! (also sorry i haven't been able to read any of ur recent stuff!! i haven't been able to play andromeda yet and i'm avoiding spoilers)

[I decided to combine them both- a drunken kiss and a ‘hope we don’t get caught’ kiss. Still accepting Shakarian prompts. Hope you like. <3] 

“You know, Shepard, there is something I’ve always wanted to do.” It was that time of night when things had finally wound down, the party thrown for Garrus’s birthday over, everyone either passed out in adjacent rooms or struggling to walk home, too drunk to see straight. Shepard lay sprawled on the couch, head in Garrus’ lap as he played with her hair, running it through her fingers. Both were pleasantly soused, not ready to go to bed but limbs too heavy to do much else.

Eyes half-closed, Shepard made a small grunt of pleasure at the sensation of fingers along her scalp. “What’s that?” Hell, she could indulge him today. “If it’s another shooting contest, I just want you to know that I’ll win this time.” If she could even hold a gun steady; it really could go either way right about now.

“You know that big podium the council sits at?” Garrus wriggled out from beneath her, leaving Shepard’s head to rest on the considerably softer cushions. Not a bad trade-off, but she was going to fall asleep if she didn’t try to right herself, sitting upright in a staggered movement that left her half-leaning over the arm of the couch, watching Garrus pace the room in increased excitement, a lazy smile spreading across her features.

“The one they look down on us from? Yah, I know it.” Her hand reached for more to drink, but they’d run out a while ago, and she was too tired or too lazy to get up and find something at the bar.

Standing before the fire place, Garrus spread his arms wide. “Let’s go there. I have an idea.” He was already trying to pull Shepard upright, both of them laughing when her legs refused to cooperate.

“Right now? Sure, why not.” No one would be around at this hour; any guards patrolling could easily be convinced to turn their head the other way for Commander Shepard and Garrus Vakarian, heroes of the Citadel, and the autocab shuttle they took over wasn’t about to ask any questions.

They spilled out of it like a couple of drunk teenagers, trying to stifle each other’s laughter and failing utterly. A single door lay between them and their goal; Garrus bent over it for a moment, and it whooshed open softly. “Never bothered to change the codes since I was in CSEC,” he said with a noise of satisfaction.

In the dimmed lights of Citadel night, the room was cavernous and eerie, even more so than usual. There weren’t even any Keepers around; Garrus and Shepard were truly alone, following each other in increasingly dramatic, sneaking steps whose effect was ruined utterly by the giggling. Starlight trickled in from the windows behind the Council’s row of seats, dramatic pinpricks that stippled plants and floor alike, spreading across Shepard’s skin and Garrus’ carapace in a diffuse pattern.

Much of it was ruined by the slightly spinning world, the haze of alcohol softening edges and adding unreality to the scene, a heavy overlay that Shepard had no desire to clear. Her head was in a good place right now; when was the last time she was allowed to sit down and just celebrate something like a normal person? Garrus deserved everything for his birthday, so if he wanted to break into the damn Council, they would.

“Now what?” They were here, and… It wasn’t the most exciting, actually, once the thrill of the illicit wore off. She’d broken into better places than this.

Not answering, Garrus gently tugged her arm, pulling Shepard up to the podium and standing there with her. A single shaft of light, a reflection off solar panels or some other metallic piece of the station, bathed them both in a cool glow, a silver aura that she was just drunk enough to find romantic, rather than corny bullshit. Well, it still was corny bullshit, but she felt entitled to it every once in a while.

“You ever have vids running through your head of desecrating this place? You know what I mean.” Garrus could pitch even his rumbly turian voice to a lower octave, suggestion stopping just short of obviously leering.

Shepard couldn’t resist the invitation, or how endearingly awkward Garrus was whenever he suggested something remotely inappropriate, his reference point always falling back to vids. “Can’t say that I have, Garrus, but now I do.” What better way to say ‘screw you’ to the Council? Not that they’d ever see- if they had cams here, Shepard could get it all deleted by tomorrow morning, before anyone even saw. Or she could save them for their own private use. Either way. Raising an eyebrow at Garrus, she gestured to him- make your next move, cowboy.

With a distinctly drunken saunter, Garrus took a few steps to Shepard and then pulled her closer. They didn’t kiss often, both because they weren’t people prone to PDA and because their anatomies weren’t always complimentary, but when they did, sparks flew (metaphorically, unless Shepard had any metal near her face, and then it could possibly be literally.) Being drunk didn’t actually improve things much, except to make them both more into it, wandering hands and all, an exchange of tongues, blue on pink, that was probably faintly off putting if anyone had been watching. Luckily, they were safe in that regard.

Breaking for air, and to feel another rush of residual alcohol, they leaned together for a moment, Garrus guiding Shepard over to the long desk the Council sat behind, helping her perch on the edge. “Good birthday?” she murmured.

“Best in the whole damn Citadel.”

anonymous asked:

I've been having the most crappiest months ever, my life is a mess right now and I am so fragile, everything makes me cry or feel emotionless. And to top it of my mum is having surgery tomorrow. I could really use a fluffy fic, to remember that hopefully everything will be alright. That there's a real son why I'm going through these horrible times xx

i’m so sorry this is weeks late, my love, i hope you’re doing okay, know i’m rooting for you, and here is some halloween sterek to hopefully make you feel better

*

The first Halloween back home from college is not one Stiles is looking forward to. Nor is it one he wants to celebrate with full force and a damn party.

Scott, however, is keen to embrace the festivities now they’re able to, and he arranges for all of them to go to a “sweet” Halloween do at the town hall.

Stiles mutters darkly about Winifred, Mary and Sarah coming to curse them all, and Derek (to his huge surprise) starts humming the creepy song from the start of the movie as he throws a cushion at Stiles’ head.

He’s seemingly, astonishingly, totally okay with going to a party for Halloween.

Stiles attempts to resist, but his best friend is just so damn earnest.

Derek doesn’t even try to fight Scott’s excited announcement, only asks if they have to wear costumes.

“Of course!” Scott bounces over, claps him on the shoulder, “That’s the whole point!”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can I get UT, UF Sans + US, SF Papyrus reacting to a close friend texting them and asking if they've eaten dinner, the skelly hasn't eaten in a while and replies with something like "nah, i'm already too fat/i'm tryna lose the weight of my problems" and the friend never replies back. Five minutes later the door to their house bursts open and the friend is there with bags of food and aggressively yells "I SPRINTED THROUGH MULTIPLE BLOCKS AND YOU'RE GONNA F'KIN EAT, YA HEAR ME!?"

Okay so sorry for all the texting in this, but I can’t explain how much I love domestic texting between friends. This turned into small drabbles btw and sorry if they didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to, I got carried away. 

I also put a keep reading on this, I think I’m going to start doing that on the very long posts. Tell me if it doesn’t work on mobile and I’ll remove it or try and work around it.

UT!Sans: -When he gets the first message he just thinks you’re looking to invite him out for some grub, but he’s honestly not feeling like heading to Grillby’s right now. Still, he doesn’t see any reason to lie to you. So he sends a quick message back.

5:21 pm - nah, but my bones are big enough already. dont need extra weight on them.

He waits for a few minutes. Nothing happens. Did you just forget to reply back? It says that you read it… He figures that you probably just forgot though, or you headed out for dinner by yourself. He’s content with this reasoning as he turns back to the TV, sinking deep into the couch cushions. He gets two more minutes of TV watching before the front door is slammed open, and for a second he’s sure that Undyne is here, until you step into his line of vision. Your face is red and you’re trying to catch your breath. You also have a slight manic look on your face that is making him question if it’d be wise to ask why you’re here.

‘’Um… Y/N?’’ he says trying to make sense of your messy form.

You’re still panting as you set two delicious smelling bags on the coffee table in front of him. You bend over and put your hands on your knees, breathing almost normally now.

‘’What are you doing here?’’ he asks again.

You look up at him, takes a deep breath while you straighten yourself and then from nowhere you yell at him.

‘’I JUST SPRINTED THROUGH MULTIPLE BLOCKS AFTER GETTING THIS FOOD AND YOU ARE GOING TO EAT IT OR SO HELP ME!’’ you yell angrily with a fierce look in your eyes.

Normally he’d say a joke, or argue just for the fun of it. But your eyes are showing genuine concern, and you did go out of your way to make sure he’d eat. So instead he moves over on the couch and pats the seat next to him.

‘’Jeez, kid. Talk about home delivery,’’ he laughs while looking away from you.

You make your way over to him and plop down on the couch with a sigh. Leaning back and stretching out your limbs you make a grabby gesture for the bags, which are still sitting on the table. He smiles wryly and gestures with his hand making the bags float towards you. You grab one of them with a contented smile and then rips it open, digging in on whatever is inside. Handing him the left over ketchup packets, which he stores in his pocket for later use. He does the same and you both turn to face the TV. When you’ve finished the meals, you both sit in a comfortable silence. Enjoying each other’s presence while watching one stupid show after the other.

He can’t help but feel like this is the kind of friendship he’s always wanted.

UF!Sans: - An annoying electronic chime woke him up from his sleep. He grunted and fumbled around in complete darkness until his hand felt something hard on his bed. Reaching out he grabbed ahold of his phone and tried to find the home screen button. He winced when the bright light blinded him, trying to cover his eye sockets. Swearing, he turned the brightness down and opened his new text message. Your contact named showed up as the phone loaded your recent conversation, you’d sent him a couple of texts while he’d been asleep and he read through them carefully.

6:34 pm - Yo Red, what’d you eat for dinner today?

6:44 pm - RED

6:46 pm - Red answer me I need to know

6:47 pm - Did you fall asleep again?

6:58 pm - Okay that’s it, I’m coming over and I’m bringing food. You better be up and ready or I am dragging your bony butt out of bed

Wait you were doing what? He looked at the time. 7:00 pm. Shit you’d be here soon. He threw himself off the bed, but his legs got tangled in the bed sheets and instead of standing up, he fell on the floor face first. Grunting he tried to get up, when he heard someone knock on the front door. Panicking he flailed around even more, managing to get the sheets stuck between his fibula and tibula. He stood up on one leg, and hopped around while trying to untangle himself from his prison of bedsheets and blankets. Just as he was standing there bent forward and hopping on one leg, the door opened. He looked up like a deer in headlights and saw you standing in his door opening. Flushed face, panting and desperately trying to hold back a grin.

‘’The fuck you lookin’ at,’’ he grunted as he once again fought to get free.

‘’Oh nothing-’’ you said, leaning against the doorframe -’’just enjoying the performance.’’

He muttered something that sounded like a quiet fuck you, and then finally got his leg free and stood up straight. Stretching, he managed to pop his back in a few places and he grunted in satisfaction. He walked past you and into his living room. Turning to look as you followed him out.

‘’Did ya bring food?’’ he asked.

‘’Yes,’’ you replied simply. ‘’And you are going to eat it’’

‘’I don’t need any more food, I’m heavy enough as it is.’’

You turned around and gave him a dangerously calm look.

‘’I just sprinted through a lot of blocks to get you this food,’’ you said walking closer to him. ‘’And you are going to eat every. last. fucking. bit. You hear me?’’ Your voice was low and almost threatening, and your eyes gleamed of determination.

He never thought that he’d call his small human friend scary, but that look you were giving him chilled him to the bones. And the smell of the food broke his will down, you bought him food for hells sake. He wasn’t about to turn that down.

‘’Fine,’’ he muttered and sat down on the couch.

You smiled and joined him, tossing him one of the bags while opening your own. You ate in silence, the only sounds coming from the TV playing in front of you both. It wasn’t until you had both finished your food and was sat quietly watching the show that a thought entered his head. He never gave you a key to his flat…

‘’How the hell did you get in here??’’

US!Papyrus: Papyrus sucks at looking after himself. And he never pays attention to when he should be sleeping or eating. Meaning that when he’s up playing video games in the middle of the night, it’s safe to presume that he has not been eating anything other than a few snacks for the past hours. This night was one of those nights.

He just never bothered to keep track of time.

He did know that it was late, though. Way too late for anyone to be texting him. Which is why he jumped when his phone went off next to him on the floor.

He glanced at it quickly but then looked back at the TV, doing his best not to die before the event had been completed. About five seconds from pulling through, someone shot him from behind and he fought the urge to yell in frustration as his characters sank down on the ground. He flopped backwards with a sigh and lifted his phone to read the message. Smiling slightly when he saw your name on the screen.

12:54 am - Heyyy you up?

Were you drunk or bored? Scientists can’t tell he thought and snorted at his own joke. He typed out a lazy text and waited a few seconds on your reply.

1:01 am - yea im up

1:02 am - Can’t sleep?

1:02 am - wasnt tryin, you?

1:03 am - Me neither, what’d you eat today?

1:04 am - I dont think i ate anything tbh, why

No reply. Did you fall asleep or just ditch him? He should probably go to bed then. But he can’t be bothered to get off the floor. And he’s not feeling tired enough to fall asleep where he is. Maybe he should just stay there for a while. Meditate or something.

His phone chimed again and he unlocked it as he lifted it to his face

1:09 am - Open your door

1:10 am - what ?

1:10 am - I am outside your house, open the front door or I’m climbing through your window

There was no way you were outside his house. And he didn’t feel like getting up and walking into the prank willingly

1:11 am - i call bluff on this

He waited for your comeback, where you’d desperately try and get him to go out and check the front of his house. But he wasn’t going to do that. He wasn’t about to let you own him like that, he’s not stupid.

A knock on the window made him jump and scramble to his feet. You sat on the roof under his window in a crouch. When you saw that you had grabbed his attention you started frantically gesturing for the lock. He stared at you for a while, to your obvious irritation, until he walked forwards and opened the window. You jumped in and opened your backpack on the floor, pulling out two bags of take out food. You checked the content of them both, and then handed him one while you started eating from yours. He took it from you but continued staring at you.

‘’Are you going to open it?’’ you asked with your mouth full of food.

‘’It’s the middle of the night,’’ he said. ‘’What are you doing here?’’

‘’I wanted take out food. And I wanted to eat it with you. And since you’re so stupid that you can’t even get your own food, I decided to bring it to you,’’ you said simply, still munching away on your food.

He sat down in front of you, but still didn’t touch his bag. You looked up at him, and this time you looked even more irritated then before.

‘’Listen dude, I worked hard for that food, so you better fucking eat it,’’ you said in an angry voice.

‘’Listen dude,’’ he said mimicking your voice. ‘’I’m trying to loose the weight of my problems here.’’ He tried giving you the food back.

Your eyes widened a little, and your face softened. You leaned forward and pushed the bag back into his hands.

‘’Please eat, Papy,’’ you said in a much softer voice, your eyes almost pleading.

Deciding to give up he sat beside you and picked at the contents of his bag. For take out food, it looked surprisingly non greasy. Still good though. He picked it up and started eating, while reaching for his TV remote to put on some night tv. You ate in silence for a while, until you stood up and flopped down on his bed. He did the same and crawled over you so he was laying facing the wall. Saying your goodnights, you slowly drifted off to sleep.

He woke up the next day to an empty bed and an open window.

SF!Papyrus: When Rus gets in a low mood, taking care of himself doesn’t seem all that important. He’s not lazy, really. More apathetic. Doing chores and errands for his brother and superior keeps his mind busy and his hands occupied, letting him get through the day a little easier. But when he’s alone at night, everything becomes a little harder. And self care turns into a chore he’s not motivated enough to do.

He’d rather just wrap himself in a blanket and quietly suffer in silence, waiting it out. Hoping to feel a little better soon.

Alone…

He’s drifted off to sleep without even noticing, dreamless and exhausted despite it not even being 5 pm yet. When he slowly drifts back to conscousness he feels like he could sleep for a week more. But something woke him up, and he should probably see what that was.

His phone lights up with a soft ding. Showing two text notification and several others from social media. Grunting softly, he flipped over and reached out for it. Fumbling before his fingers got a good grip. He brought the phone closer to him, trying to unlock it while rubbing the sleep off his face. He got the passcode wrong three times before he managed to steady his hand enough to tap it in. Insisting on doing it with his thumb instead of holding the thing with both hands.

Your name shows up on the screen, along with the many emojis you’d used when you added yourself as a contact on his phone. He feels like smiling at the thought, but he’s too tired to move his face. So he starts reading the messages you sent him instead.

5:07 pm - Hey Papyrus

5:07 pm - What’d you have for dinner today?

He wants to type out some made up bullshit and go back to sleep. But you don’t deserve lies when you’re showing concern. This thought actually makes him smile, you’re so sweet.

5:10 pm - Haven’t eaten yet

Good, that wasn’t a lie. But he still wouldn’t worry you enough for you to take action. Meaning he could go back to sleep again.

5:10 pm - Papyrus you have to eat!!!!

Or not…

5:11 pm - I’m on a diet, it’s called ‘’how to loose the weight of your problems by not eating’’

That probably wasn’t the smartest thing to send you he thought. Shit he didn’t want to worry you before, why would he send you that. Like this wasn’t going to make you worry. God that was so stupid.

His phone made another sound, you’d sent him another message.

5:13 pm - Ok that’s it

Wait what

5:13 pm - what

What the hell were you doing? He flopped down onto the bed and put a hand over his eye sockets. Whatever it was he’d started now, he wasn’t feeling up for it. He honestly just wanted to go back to sleep. But instead he waited for your message, where you would explain what was going on. It never came. And eventually he felt his eyes slowly start creeping together. And his hand slid away from his face, coming to a rest on his pillow as he turned his body sideway. A minute later and he was sound asleep, snoring softly while curled around himself.

A sound woke him up, much louder than the first time. He sat up as he heard footsteps approaching. Expecting it to be his brother, he started to frantically straighten his clothing, intending to appear as if he hadn’t been asleep for the last god knows how long.

The footsteps were even closer now.

Suddenly his door flew open, slamming into his wall and most likely leaving a mark in the drywall. You stormed in, closed the door just as hard as you’d pushed it open, and then stormed over to him.

‘’I-’’ you started while still marching towards him-’’just ran like a hundred blocks to get you this food, so you are going to eat every last bit!’’ Your voice was loud and you sounded close to angry.

He blinked at you for a few seconds. ‘’I didn’t need food,’’ he said finally. His quiet voice a contrast to your own.

‘’I don’t care,’’ you answered. ‘’Knowing you, you probably haven’t eaten all day. And even if you have, you’re still eating dinner. Now move over and make some room for me’’

You hopped up in his bed before he got a chance to follow orders. And then you threw one of the bags in his direction, before you opened your own. He caught his bag midair and held it in his hands for a few moments. Then he resigned. Leaning over he grabbed his laptop and set it up on his nightstand, putting on his recently watched show on netflix. He figured that he’d have to right to choose the entertainment after you practically broke into his apartment. Besides, he knew that you had seen the show already.

You both ate in a comfortable silence, caught up in the show. Every now and then, he would glance back at you. Study you. He knew humans could be loyal, a trait that had mostly been lost by monsters. And he didn’t doubt that your concerns were genuine. But in his quiet curiosity one question always came back to him.

Why did you care so much?

ithiliel-the-french-tolkiendil  asked:

Hello :) I loooooove your stories (and I'm very eager to read more of the Silent Song). Could you write something called "Reunion"? :3 I bet you know what I have in mind ^^ Please please please please :3 :3

@ithiliel-the-french-tolkiendil the prompt you sent in February…finally…

Reunion

Summary: The Force-ghosts get together with some nice popcorn to watch the second death star blow up. Someone shows up just in time to join the party. Angsty…crack?

Serious, but…not…serious?

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn, Yoda, Mace Windu, Tahl Uvain, Anakin Skywalker, Luke Skywalker


Qui-Gon Jinn keeps an eye on the inter-dimensional rift as he stirs more butter into this newest batch of popcorn. Behind him is a ridiculous scene; a room that could almost be a carbon copy of standard-issue quarters at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, but where one wall should be is instead a translucent barrier, shimmering in the Force.

A barrier between the living and the dead.

This dimension currently exists as a comfortable living area with three Jedi lounging upon sofas and meditation cushions alike (and one making popcorn) but out there…

There is a terrific howl of lightsabers just over the flickering border between the timeless world of the Force and the shadowed durasteel of the Death Star; Obi-Wan stands just at the edge, watching the duel between father and son with an inscrutable expression. The clash of plasma blades paint Obi-Wan’s face in alternating shades of crimson and emerald.

“Staring at them won’t make Luke win,” a baritone voice says.

“Quite right, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan murmurs, stroking a hand over his beard. “But I shall watch all the same.” His eyes never leave the duel, glimmering in the flashing lights.

Qui-Gon pours the popcorn into a bag, conjures a measure of Corellian honey, and sets to shaking the mixture with verve. The shaa-shaa of popcorn against plastifilm mixed with the screaming of the lightsabers almost drown out Mace’s next words completely.

“For stars’ sake,” Mace mutters, “I’ve been dead for about a quarter century now, you’d think he’d start calling me Mace.”

A good-natured harrumph sounds from somewhere behind Qui-Gon. “A Knight of the old guard, Obi-Wan is.”

Qui-Gon pours the popcorn into a bowl just as there is a lull beyond the portal.

“Good. Use your aggressive feelings, boy,” a gnarled voice declares nasally. “Let the hate flow through you.”

“And the prune speaks,” Tahl says, from where she is languidly sprawled across a sofa, feet propped up on one armrest. To a casual observer she would seem relaxed, but her green-gold eyes rest on Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon stifles a chuckle as he turns around, setting the bowl of popcorn on the low table between the couches.

“Isn’t this a bit early for a celebration?” Mace says, sitting up. “You’re always one for optimism, Qui-Gon, but Luke hasn’t actually won yet.” His left hand grasps his right wrist, distractedly, a phantom memory.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” Qui-Gon deadpans.

Not amusing.”

“At all, Qui.”

Qui-Gon raises both hands in surrender to his oldest friends.

“Obi-Wan has taught you well.” The mechanised echo of Vader’s voice has all their heads snapping towards the barrier.

“What’s Luke doing?” Tahl says, suddenly. “He’s deactivated his lightsaber.”

Obi-Wan flicks blue eyes over to her; they are rimmed with moisture. “Being a Jedi,” he says, simply.

“I will not fight you, father.” Luke’s voice is quiet, and determined, and echoes in the Force like a cleansing rain.

Mace frowns, narrowing his eyes at the young black-clothed Jedi standing at the top of the steps. “He’s a shatterpoint,” he says, slowly. Then he straightens, suddenly. “They’re both shatterpoints.”

The Force shivers beneath their feet, awakening.

As the red-green flicker of Jedi against Sith starts up again, the masters drift towards the edge between worlds, drawn by the glimmer of the Force flowing there.

Master Yoda, on the other hand, stays back, gimlet eyes unblinking.

Qui-Gon places a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and feels the desert-thinned shoulder tremble beneath his fingers.

“Your thoughts betray you, father. I feel the good in you, the conflict.”

“There is no conflict.”

“Liar,” Obi-Wan whispers, so softly to be barely audible.

Qui-Gon tightens his grip.

Across the shimmering barrier, Father and son throw words back and forth; the Jedi stand silent, watching.

And then the world erupts in a shower of sparks as Vader hurls his lightsaber at Luke, who stumbles and falls as the catwalk he was standing on is sliced to shreds.

Mace mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “Skywalkers and their methods,” but then the cold chamber in the Death Star falls silent, save for Vader’s breathing, and the Force shudders.

Vader speaks, Vader senses, and Vader…

“Sister. So you have a twin sister. Your feelings have betrayed her to me.” Vader turns in swirl of shadow, and the barrier trembles at the weight of his anger.  “Obi-Wan was wise to hide her from me. Now his failure is complete.”

Obi-Wan makes a noise, behind a hand clamped over his lips. He does not look, in this moment, like a master.

Tahl moves silently to Obi-Wan’s other side, and wraps a bronze-skinned hand around his wrist.

“If you will not turn to the dark side, then perhaps she will.”

Luke’s change is like a torrent of pitch that hammers into the air beyond the barrier and paints the world black.

Qui-Gon flinches, and feels Obi-Wan flinch with him.

The screams of Luke and Vader’s lightsabers do not compare to the screaming of the Force, now.

And then it happens.

Vader goes down with an inhuman howl as Luke’s lightsaber cleaves through his wrist.

And the Emperor laughs.

Luke is shaking as the Emperor speaks.

“He’s about to shatter,” Mace says, quietly. “But I cannot see how.”

The Force roars into a crescendo. It will fall, or it will fly.

It does neither.

It sings.

“You’ve failed, your highness. I am a Jedi, like my father before me.”

Qui-Gon closes his eyes. He knows what will come next, even before the Emperor speaks.

Lightning flashes behind his eyelids, agonising white-rimmed blue, like Luke’s eyes, Anakin’s, Obi-Wan’s, his-

The screaming is worse.

It echoes back, back, twenty years and more, to graceful halls scored with blasterfire, and young voices shrieking in terror as blue-painted soldiers descend upon them, with a shadow at their head-

“Father…please!”

Under Qui-Gon’s fingers, Obi-Wan is deathly still.

The Force stirs at their feet, and whispers at them to open their eyes, and see.

Qui-Gon becomes aware there are hushed footsteps behind them; he turns his head, and is met with the vermillion eyes of Kit Fisto; the kindly face of Ki-Adi-Mundi; the gentle smile of Luminara Unduli, and face after familiar face, filling the chamber and beyond; Jedi come to see the culmination of their hope.

It is not the dark that gives Vader the superhuman strength needed to carry a Sith to its death, when lightning burns away his artificial lungs and heart and limbs; it is light from ten thousand Jedi, watching, and waiting.

The assembled Jedi sigh, and fade away, as Luke scrambles towards his father.

It is suddenly very quiet, in the chamber connected to the living world.

A single word breaks the silence.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs. “Anakin.”

Yoda steps up beside his four students, and watches with both hands on his gimer stick.

The five Jedi stand guard, throughout the sobbing and the agony and the sheer determination that allows Luke to drag his father down to the closest hangar bay.

And then Anakin speaks, and Luke listens, and Darth Vader’s helmet is pulled away.

Obi-Wan lowers his head into both hands when he sees Anakin’s face - or what is left of it.

The others turn away. This is a moment too private, and too full, for anyone other than father and son.

Qui-Gon pulls Obi-Wan away from the barrier, and in a moment, the scene beyond it has flickered away into a field of stars, and there, in the centre, hangs the second death star.

And then suddenly there is a sixth Jedi among them.

Obi-Wan raises his tear-streaked face from his hands and stares at his former apprentice.

Anakin - not looking a day above twenty-three - startles, glances around him, meets Mace’s gaze and flinches away, and then decides to stare at his own feet instead.

Qui-Gon pushes Obi-Wan into a seat, nudges Anakin over to him, and stuffs the bowl of popcorn between them.

“My children are stupid,” he says, clearly. “And they need to eat.”

The second Death Star chooses this moment to blow up. Spectacularly.

Mace waggles the intact fingers of his right hand in front of Anakin’s face and takes a handful of popcorn, which he then flings at the barrier.

A passing TIE gets a viewport full of popcorn before being blasted to smithereens by a pursuing X-wing.

With what seems to be a gargantuan effort, Anakin looks up and meets his former master’s eyes.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin says, voice breaking, “I’m so sor-”

Obi-Wan grabs a fistful of popcorn and smashes it into Anakin’s face.

It is almost a punch.

Anakin gags on a mouthful of popcorn and stares, wide-eyed, as Obi-Wan’s image flickers and re-coalesces into what General Kenobi looked like, at the height of the Clone Wars. No older than thirty-five.

Obi-Wan begins to smile. His auburn beard cannot quite hide it.

Anakin swallows. “Oh, you are so-”

Qui-Gon smashes a cushion into the side of Anakin’s head. It explodes (the cushion, not Anakin’s head) and rains Nubian duck-feathers down on all their heads.

Yoda begins to massage his temples. Mace seems to come to a decision, and reaches for a pillow the same time Tahl slips behind a sideboard and emerges with a bottle of Corellian champagne.

And then popcorn is flung into the air, and there is laughing and shouting and crying - mostly crying - and beyond the barrier, the remnants of the second Death Star glimmer like a second veil of stars over the diamond-studded cloak of the galaxy.

When they appear as a line of blue-hued figures, hours later on the forest moon of Endor, Obi-Wan has to reach over to pluck a feather from Anakin’s cloak.

If Luke is surprised, he does not show it. His smile shines bright enough for ten galaxies.

END


Thanks for reading whatever that was (the product of a wish not to write something cliche and whatever my imagination decided should happen). Mace Windu in that, I think, was more Samuel L Jackson than anything else. Reblog as you like!

This is like. The second-most crack thing I’ve ever written.

My fanfic masterlist (I usually write far more seriously than this, I promise)

My ff.net profile and stories

Pinky Promise (pt. 1 of my Le Duo verse)

Pairing(s): Luke Evans/Josh Gad

Summary: Luke isn’t intimidated by a simple babysitting gig, okay? He really isn’t. He’s performed live in front of massive audiences on West End and seen his face on the big screen all around the world. Needless to say, he’s definitely not scared of some little girls. Especially not Josh Gad’s adorable little girls. Nope, not scared at all.

***

The front door is pretty average; tall and sturdy and probably a little expensive, but plain. Certainly nothing to be intimidated by. Except that Luke knows the man of his dreams is just behind that door. And with him, his beautiful wife and two daughters. God, he really should just turn around and feign some deadly illness because the whole situation is too absurd.

When Josh had asked him for a favor, Luke had foolishly agreed without knowing anything, jumping at any opportunity to please like an overeager puppy. He hadn’t realized that the favor would involve going just long enough without seeing Josh to make Luke really miss him and then sleeping over at Josh’s house with the two most important little people in his friend’s life. It was all a giant domestic tease that Luke wasn’t sure he could handle.

Luke never thought that he would be trying to get into Gaston’s headspace outside of shooting Beauty and the Beast (because really, who would willingly put themselves in that guy’s headspace for any other reason?), but he found himself taking out his phone and pulling up the camera app, trying to let courage show through his eyes on the screen as he channeled his character’s outrageous self-confidence.

“You are Luke Evans, and you are clever, kind, and incredibly fun to be around. You are the perfect babysitter, and you have noth
ing to worry about.”

He cocked an eyebrow for effect, starting to feel even less self-assured at how silly he looked, when he heard the door unlatch. He immediately shoved his phone in his pocket and felt heat rising to his cheeks as the door swung open and he looked up into Josh’s amused eyes.

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Betty's on her Period (Part 2)

Hey guys!!! How’s everyone doing? Good? Well that’s fantastic!! Bad? Aww… I’m sorry love, I hope your day gets better!!! BACK ON TOPIC: THANK YOU FOR LOVING THE LAST IMAGINE!!! IF YOU HAVEN’T READ IT, CHECK IT OUT ON MY TUMBLR!!!

Ship: Bughead (Betty and Jughead)
Warnings: Mentions of Periods. Menstrual Blood.
Fandom: Riverdale

Betty’s phone has been ringing all day long. The buzzing against the coffee table was driving her insane. Jughead excused himself real quick as he had to go upstairs and use Betty’s restroom. Betty was on the verge of exploding. Her while face was starting to turn red in anger.

The phone rings once more. Betty snatches her phone and presses Accept.

“HELLO!” Betty shouted,

"Um… hey B. Everything ok?” She heard a familiar voice on the other end of the line. It was Betty’s River Vixen Cheerleader buddy, Veronica Lodge.

"Oh… um hey V. Sorry for yelling” Betty said, in a hushed tone of voice.

"Me and Archie were wondering where you and Jughead were. You didn’t show up for school. The both of you aren’t answering your phones.” Veronica said,

"It’s nothing Veronica. Just not feeling well today. Jughead is taking care of me while my mom is away to Chicago” Betty exclaimed,

"Oooohhhh. Are you guys planning on doing something?” Betty can hear the smirk forming on Veronica’s face.

"The two of them just started dating Ronnie. Give them a break” Archie said. Veronica had Betty on speakerphone this whole time.

"Hi Arch. Look guys, everything is cool. I’m just under the weather.” Betty said.

"How about me and Archie stroll by your house later on tonight?” Veronica suggested,

Thanks guys, but I prefer to get some rest and get better. I’ll be back to school in a couple of days. I’ll talk to you guys later.” Betty said,

Veronica and Archie agreed that it was the best option to let it go. They said ok and Veronica hung up the phone. Just then, Jughead walked down the stairs.

"Who was that? Your mom?” Jughead asked,

"It was a certain red head that lives next door alongside a raven haired princess. They called to see why you and me didn’t go to school today.” Betty answered.

Jughead hummed as a response to her. Betty let out a little groan. She has been sat on the couch all day long. Her legs were completely killing her and were starting to cramp up.

"Juggie, can you help me up? My legs hurt.” Betty asked, trying her best to get herself up.

Jughead hopped to his feet and held his arms out for his Juliet. She grabbed on and he lifted her up. The feeling inside Betty did not feel good at all. She felt wetness down her thighs. A cramp hit her hard and she gripped onto Jughead’s arms.

Jughead started to comfort her, but his eyes went down to the couch where Betty was sitting in, covered in more blood.

"Oh god… um Betty? The couch.” Jughead said, adverting his eyes away from the couch and wishes the memory to be erased out of his head. Betty looked behind her and let out a muffled “fuck” between her teeth. She quickly waddled up the stairs to go fix her situation. She knew the reason why this happened: Jughead didn’t get the right kind of pads for her.

The blood Jughead saw on Betty’s bedsheets earlier in the morning wasn’t as bad as this. It looked like a crime scene was committed. Jughead didn’t know how to clean this sort of stuff out of the couch cushion. His sister, Jellybean, is only 10 years old. She hasn’t gotten her period yet so he doesn’t really know how to handle situations like these out.

But thank god for the internet. Jughead typed into Google “How to clean up period blood.” He looked at the instructions and ran into the kitchen to try to get the blood out of the cushion.

After 5 minutes of scrubbing, most of the blood came out. He quickly washed his hands and threw the cushion into the washing machine. He put Betty’s sheets into the dryer and threw in 2 fabric softeners.

"Jug!” He heard a scream from upstairs. He hurried up the stairs to the closed bathroom door. The cramps made Betty feel like her uterus has being stabbed and mangled.

Can you go into my room and get me some bottoms and underwear?” Betty asked. Jughead could sensed how uncomfortable and embarrassed Betty must be feeling right now. Jughead walked into Betty’s room and opened several dresser drawers. He finally reached the drawer that contained her panties.

Different colors. Ones with Lace. Some Girl Boxers. And some regular plain ones. He chose one that he thought would look cute on her. He smirked and little and closed the drawer. Jughead’s book bag laid on Betty’s bedroom floor, he was supposed to have gym today.

He reached in his bag and pull out a pair of grey sweatpants. He went and knocked on the bathroom door. Betty opened it slightly and she grabbed her undergarments and sweatpants. The sweatpants looked different. Are these Jughead’s? In the meantime, Betty is just gonna have to use her mothers tampons. She got situated and finished her business.

Betty stepped out, the sweatpants dangled at her feet. Jughead escorted her back to the living room. Betty carefully laid down onto Jughead’s lap. He smelled so good and and always had a warm touch. Jughead reached over and rolled up the pant legs on his sweatpants. He saw dry blood on her ankles.

"Hold on Bets” Jughead said. Betty got up from his lap and he went into the kitchen. He grabbed a couple paper towels and ran them under cold water. He returned and asked Betty to sit back down. She obeyed and Jughead pulled up the pant legs up to her thighs.

He started cleaning her ankles, up to her calfs, and all the way up to her thighs. After wiping her legs off, he quickly dried them and got some lotion off of the light stand. Betty’s mom always longed for soft skin, so she kept small bottles of lotion around the house.

Betty watched as Jughead got some Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion and squirted some in his hands and rubbed them together. Jughead started to massage Betty’s legs. Betty sighed, she felt so relaxed after the period mishap 10 minutes ago.

Jughead massaged Betty’s ankles all the way up to her thighs. Jughead made no facial expressions. He just admired the way Betty was feeling. He smiled a little, knowing that he is the only one he can make her happy right now. After the massaging was over, Jughead leaned over and gave Betty’s inner thighs a little kiss.

Betty was in pure bliss. She loved the feeling. She laid back down and cuddled into Jughead’s chest.

"Thank you for dealing with me and my feminine problems all day today. I feel bad. I feel like a burden. I made you miss a day of school” I am so sorry Jug-“

Betty was interrupted when Jughead kissed her. They stayed like that for 10 seconds. They pulled back and looked at each other.

"It’s ok. Things like this happen. And I will always be there to take care of you. I can’t bear to see the girl that I love being in pain. Just know that I will always be here.” Jughead exclaimed, giving Betty a kiss on the forehead.

"Thank you” she responded.

“Is there anything you need?” Jughead asked,

“Um… those pads you got me… they’re the wrong size. I need overnight ones. But I’ll keep those when I get near the end.” Betty said,

“Ok. I’ll walk to the dollar store around the corner and get them for you. Leftovers from Pop’s is in the fridge. I’ll be right back.” Jughead said.

He went and got the right ones for her. Although it was embarrassing for him when he had to cash out at the cash register. But he didn’t mind, he would do anything for Betty.

He got home 10 minutes later. Betty was munching on some vanilla ice cream cream again. He took the package of pads upstairs and placed them in the bathroom. He came down the stairs and heard shuffling.

“Jug, quick question? Titanic or The Notebook?” Betty said. She wanted to watch one of the 4 movies Jughead got at the store.

“Um… I don’t know. The Notebook?” Jughead chuckled. They watched the movie and the both of them shed some tears. Betty eventually fell asleep on Jughead and he fell asleep soon after she did.

(OH MY GOODNESS GUYS! ITS FINALLY DONE!! Sorry I wasn’t able to upload straight away. I had to study for exams and I had a concert for my school and had rehearsals and everything. THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT! PLEASE CONTINUE TO SEND IN REQUESTS, IM STILL TAKING THEM! ❤️)

He’s Got You High

For @a-simple-rainbow. ♥♥♥

She wanted something based on this post: Kurt sends an email to his TA while high on pain meds after a wisdom teeth extraction.

read on AO3

Blaine is in the middle of his theatre history class when his phone signals a new email in his inbox. Discreetly hiding the phone from his instructor’s view by keeping his hands behind a stack of textbooks on his desk, he goes to his email folder and checks the sender.

It reads, Kurt Hummel.

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His Hair: Part 2

Agh, thank you guys so much for the kind words. I’ve been smiling idiotically at my screen all evening and then I hurried to write this part for you (and because I love writing Lin too much, lol send help).
@strongenoughfoundation
@plamspringsdancingontables
You two really helped when you shared this little story, so thank you c:

The second time you noticed, the two of you were…well was freaking out over lyrics in your apartment considered “hanging out?”

“AGH.”

You nearly jumped at the dramatic groan from Lin, and turned just in time to see him flopping his head to the back of the couch with hands over his face. His ever-present laptop was settled on his lap and you could glimpse writing scrawled across the screen. You grimaced sympathetically. “You all right?”

A muffled “mmph” was all you received and he didn’t budge.

From your place next to your coffeemaker, you pulled a soft smile and went back to stirring cream into your mug. You loved your coffeemaker, honestly. You probably wouldn’t have survived the late dance practices without it. Not to mention that it was now coming in handy because Lin-Manuel Miranda (dear god) was in your apartment with a serious need of caffeine.

“Being a genius is hard,” Lin complained, with enough sarcasm to let you know he was kidding.

You snorted and rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see you from the couch. “Hey, genius,” you called, “want coffee or what?”

“Please?” he asked, twisting on the couch to send you an imploring smile. His eyes went all soft when he smiled and a strand of hair had drifted down into his face.

Okay, THAT was doing dangerous things to your heart rate, so you’d better stop looking at him. “Coming, Your Highness,” you teased. Scooping up the two mugs, you made your way around the couch to him.

“‘Your Highness?’” he echoed with a raised brow, as he accepted the mug from you. “I’m hardly acting that obnoxious, am I?”

You sent him a flat look and he glared back at you. “Right, (Y/N) thinks I’m obnoxious,” he remarked with a rough sigh. “This day actually got worse.”

“Hey!” you protested, sitting down next to him and batting him on the shoulder. “You can’t be mad at me, I made you coffee.”

Huffing out half a laugh, he took a long sip of said coffee. “I can’t be mad at you, can I? Damn.” He shook his head and leaned forward to set the mug on the coffee table in front of the couch. Then he fell back against the cushions again, letting out a long breath. His gaze landed on his laptop screen again.

Sobering a little, you brought your mug up to your lips. “Still having trouble?”

“Yeah. I just…want it to turn out right, you know?”

“I get it.” You fell silent, watching him think, fingers tapping out some rhythm on his knee. Bending forward, you placed your mug next to his and laced your fingers together on your crossed legs. “You know it’s already amazing, right?” you asked, suddenly feeling a burst of your shyness. It always seemed to surface around him at some point. “I mean…it’s great, probably because you’re great, and um.” He was watching you with this almost-smile playing on his lips and you felt your ears starting to burn. “….yeah.”

You had to look away, because you were sure you were about to start blushing ferociously any minute. But you heard him chuckle, a warm sound vibrating in his chest, and a quiet, “thanks, (Y/N).”

“No problem.” Glancing up again, you fell back into your usual habit of watching him work: eyes lingering on the movement of his fingers over the keyboard and up to the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie. Then higher, over the arc of his neck and to his hair bundled into a messy bun. It looked like it’d be soft to the touch and your stomach twisted. You were starting to get an unhealthy habit of ogling his hair lately. A strand had fallen free and hung in his face; he was too focused to brush it away.

Without thinking, you reached out and caught it on the edge of your fingers. “Here, you gotta—” You were smoothing it back behind his ear before you realized what exactly you’d just done and then you froze. His eyes were on yours, a flicker of surprised delight in them as your fingers trembled a millimeter from his hair. You swallowed hard, not daring to move. “Oh. Uh. I…” His gaze flitted down to your mouth, then away, almost guilty for having done so in the first place. But that glance was all it took for you to apparently become a whole lot braver.

You darted forward and touched your lips to his.

It was light, and innocent, a quick intake of breath coming from him and a shaky sigh coming from you. It was the first kiss you’d ever had and would become the shortest; you pulled back immediately, face turning every shade of red. “God, crap, I’m sorry,” you babbled. “I shouldn't—”

“Yes, you should,” he mumbled, and he caught your mouth with his again.

You were drowning so fast, you were sure that wasn’t a good sign; you were already in too deep. But Lin had brought his hand up to your cheek now, holding you gently. And he kissed like he sang, deeply and like it was all he ever needed. You closed your eyes and leaned into it, let it deepen. Your hand was moving on its own now, tracing his jawline. Then your fingertips speared into his hair, freed it from its tie, and you didn’t think when you twisted your fingers in it. It was as soft as you’d imagined and the way you combed your fingers through it brought a tiny sound out of Lin’s throat. Your heartbeat leapt, a grin curling your lips, and you swore you wanted to hear that sound every day.

It was you who broke it, mainly because you couldn’t stop smiling. When Lin saw it, he grinned too, that grin like a struck match, and rested his forehead against yours.

“I guess I am a genius if I figured out how to make you fall for me.”
“Oh, shut up.”

rozjozbrod  asked:

Oh my gosh can I prompt you to just overload me with fluff because after last nights ep I think I'm gonna need it. Like, gimme a toothache with all that sweetness. Something academy??? Plz and thank Sincerely A very shook™ aos fan

There weren’t many things Fitz expected to find when there was a knock at his door (food delivery men/women, pranksters, and Jemma Simmons being the most commonalities), so it was to no surprise that, when he opened the door, Jemma Simmons was on the other side of it.

What was surprising was that her eyes were red, puffy and there were dark tracks running down her freckle-sprayed cheeks. Even more surprising was that her hair wasn’t in its usual ponytail, instead it hung down past her shoulders, mussed like she’d just gotten out of bed.

Without a word, Fitz ushered her in, closed the door, and turned to give her all the attention she might need, his brain already rushing through a million possible explanations for her appearance and the crying.

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neil’s grad party

anonymous asked: if youre still taking prompts can you write something about neil finally getting drunk with the foxes? like neil being really loud & open about how much he likes andrew and everyone being like holy shit this is so cute 

anonymous asked: pls pls pls write something about how neil calls andrew his best friend in front of the other foxes !!

anonymous asked: omg please write about neil mistaking aaron for andrew (maybe when he’s a little tipsy or something??)

so as soon as i went to start on the first prompt i got the second and third ones in my inbox and i decided to combine them!

  • the more i’ve thought about it, the more i think neil wouldn’t really get drunk with the foxes while they’re all in college
  • they’re only all together in his sophomore year and i don’t think that he would go from having a drink with andrew over spring break to getting plastered with the rest of the foxes so soon
  • but eventually it happens during neil’s graduation party that they have at the house in colombia
  • since neil was the youngest out of all of the foxes, he was the last to graduate so the celebration was like a family renunion: loud, lively, crowded, and full of alcohol

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Ezria One-Shot: Promo 7x16

In part a request from @anaamulk and in part a request from @rosewoodlliars It’s quick but I hope you enjoy.

Aria is sobbing so hard her stomach is starting to hurt. She’s sick and tired of playing –A’s game and she wants her life back. She doesn’t remember the last time she did something good…something that brought someone happiness…something that didn’t end in death or destruction.

She throws herself into Ezra’s couch – her couch, even if it doesn’t feel that way – and that’s when she really lets the tears loose. They’re rushing down her face now, and her shoulders are heaving in big, heavy gasps. She lets her body concave and she folds in half against the cushions, her head hitting a pillow, and her whole being just sinking into itself.

Maybe it’s finally over.

Maybe it will never end.

She closes her eyes and tries to squeeze the tears away, but that only makes her eyes sting. Distantly, she hears the door open and close, but she’s too torn up to focus on Ezra as he walks across the room and kneels in front of her. She doesn’t want to see him. She doesn’t want to listen to him. She doesn’t want anything to do with him right now. He’s part of the problem.

If he had just stayed home…if Nicole had just stayed out of the picture…maybe then she would be free. They would have flown to Tuscany and eloped; they could have stayed there and started a new life. Instead, all she can see is the blood on her hands and the bodies stacking up in the closet.

His hands are rough against her arms and their weight makes her open her eyes. She draws out of herself just enough to sit up and reluctantly falls into him. He holds her there, tight against his chest and pushes her hair back until it’s out of her face.

“Shhh…” he whispers, trying to coax her into looking at him. “Focus on me. Hey,” he says, a little more serious.

She takes in a deep breath and tries to steady herself as he wipes the tears that are covering her cheeks.

“What happened?” he asks quietly.

She shakes her head and tries to look away but he follows her, not letting her break eye contact.

“Ezra…” she starts, pulling her lips together into a tight line. She can feel the sob catching in her throat as it bubbles up from her chest. She feels dizzy, like she might get sick. “I have done some really terrible things…”

His eyes shift from concern to something more and he wonders what could have happened this time.

“Just…tell me what it is. I’m sure everything’s going to be okay.”

Against her better judgment, she slowly shakes her head and lets him in like always. She should be saving him the grief. She should be letting him live his life, before it’s too late. She gives him a soft, sorry, sympathetic look before going on. Then, with a deep breath, says, “No. This time…I don’t think it is.”

One of These Nights (Part 4)

Summary: A hunt provides lots of close ‘family’ bonding time

Pairing: Benny x Reader

Word Count: 2,500

Warnings: Language, a little angst

A/N: Only a few of you are interested in Benny, but I love him, so this is still going! Hope you like it kiddos. Also I have a final exam in 24 hours and have not accomplished anything. Oops.

This is a series! Read Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

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Prompt #44 - ‘Then There’s Tongue’, with Mike Dodds

Fandom: Law and Order: SVU.
Warnings: NSFW, female bodied reader, dirty talk at the end.

Image Credit: sergeantdodds.tumblr.com.

Prompt taken from this prompts list.

Your living room is filled with the noises of explosions coming from the television, but you’re paying it no attention. Sitting side by side on the couch, you have your hands cupping Mike’s face with your legs draped over his thighs, while he has one arm resting along the couch behind you with his other hand resting on your knee while he kisses you softly. And although you’d been at it for at least half of the movie - your kisses are nothing but chaste. 

They had been that way for the last few months, his hands never straying from polite positions, and you knew it was because of his new position with Special Victims. Suppressing a sigh, you lean back and sure enough, a pinched expression greets you.

“Mike, talk to me,” you say, dropping one hand to his and squeezing. “This is about work, right?”

"I,” Mike sighs, letting his head fall back, huffing a breath before looking back at you. “Yeah. I can’t talk about it. Not yet. I just… you shouldn’t have to hear about the things I have to deal with. The things it makes you think.” His head drops back again.

You take a breath before you responding, deciding how best to reassure him without overstepping your boundaries. “Okay. I’m not going to push this. I can only imagine what you see at work every day and if you want to keep it to yourself, then that’s fine.”

You push on his chin with your fingertips until his head tilts back up, your eyes meeting. “But I want you to remember that I love you. I trust you. I know how you think, Mike, but I know you’d never hurt me or force me into anything. That’s not the man you are. And as much as I do missed being ravished regularly,” Mike chuckles at that, tortured expression relaxing, “I want you to be okay, and I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

Mike smiles, cupping your cheek in his palm. His expression is relaxed for the first time in weeks, eyes soft in a way you hadn’t seen lately. Expecting another soft kiss, it takes you completely off guard when he pushes you backwards, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thwump. Mike follows you down, lips capturing yours once again.

And, oh, his tongue slips between your lips as one hand finally slides up your shirt and over your stomach. It feels heavenly, warm and comforting pinned under his torso while his mouth ravages yours in a way that hasn’t happened in months. You’re so lost in the sensation that it takes you a minute to remember the exchange you’d just had.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you pant, pushing at his shoulder, “you’re not doing this because I just guilt tripped you, are you?”

Mike grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Of course not,” he mumbles between kisses, “I’m doing it because you are beautiful,” his kisses move down over your chin, “and kind,” down your throat, “and understanding,” along your collarbone, “and because I love you more than life itself,” down the valley of your breasts uncovered by your shirt.

He pushes himself up, tugging your shirt off before he leans back down to nose along your cheek, “And because I really, really like the way you moan my name when you come.”

Author’s note: This absolutely killed me to try and get out, and I’m 98% sure I don’t like it. If you check back in a few days, it’ll probably be different.

Sacred Halloween Doctrine (or Something)

yes hello i reached a follower milestone a few days ago, so i wrote a short, ridiculous halloween fahc raywood thing that mostly involves candy and excessive dialogue
on ao3 (bc it’s somehow over 1k words bc i have lost control of my life)
excerpt:

What follows is a bordering-on-violent scuffle for Ray’s phone that ends with Ray upending the bowl of Halloween candy over Ryan’s head and Ray quickly thereafter ending up on the floor.

“Pushing people is cruel and childish, Ryan,” Ray says, picking himself up off the floor while Ryan brushes Tootsie Rolls out of his hair. “I demand compensation for my suffering.”

“Yeah, well, all the candy is now either in my hair or between my fucking legs, so you’re out of luck in that department.”

“If you think I won’t eat Milky Ways that have gotten more intimate with you than I have,” Ray starts, and then Ryan has to defend his lap from Ray’s shameless candy lust. Or something.

“This is the start of the weirdest Halloween porno ever,” Ryan says.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ray replies from where he’s now sitting in Ryan’s lap, pulling candy from between Ryan’s legs.

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Jodice One-Shot: Kiss The Girl.

Jodice one-shot, set somewhen in S2 of The Originals/S6 of The Vampire Diaries and refusing to acknowledge the fact that both Joseph and Candice are currently married to other people.

If fanfictions starring real life ships bother you, please ignore this.

——

“We come bearing gifts!” Candice announces in her usual cheerful and singsong-y voice.

Paul and Michael are trailing right behind her, talking to each other, as she excitedly enters the Originals’ set.

The three of them have been shooting together all day—the only ones on set except, of course, for Caroline Dries, their director with a few cameramen, and the rest of their shooting crew—so, when break time finally rolled around, they decided to pay their friendly neighbors a visit.

They find Joseph, Charles and Leah lounging on some leather couches, smiles lighting up their tired faces as soon as they notice all the junk food that Candice is somehow juggling all alone in her arms.

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anonymous asked:

Oooohhhhh I'm so happy to hear that your asks are open again! ❤️️❤️️ Bokuto angst here again ~ just because I need it for my mau mau babe, would you mind doing some Kuroo angst please? ❤️️😍😭

I thought this was higher in the ask box tbh BUT I already had an idea for it typed out in my notes when I thought of it really late last night (at like 4am T~T RIP me). Anyway, I in now way think that Kuroo would ever do something like what I’ve written! But I have a very creative imagination and I can make it seem like he’s a complete bastard, yeah? Thanks for requesting~! -Admin Satori <3

Tsukishima Angst Bokuto Angst

Kuroo Tetsurou:

It was another one of those days. Another day of fighting. Another day of arguing over the stupidest of things. Tempers rising, boundaries broken, resistance snapping. It usually ranged among a bunch of different reasons for the argument to start. Though there was one that rose above them all in regularity.

“Do you even try to look for a job or are you just sitting on your ass all day looking at stupid ass memes on your phone?” You hissed angrily, glaring at him from the island in the kitchen as he continued to lay on the couch with his phone lit in his hands. “Tetsurou, look at me, at least, when we’re talking.” You almost pleaded as you walked towards him, standing close to the couch to be able to see his eyes over the top of his phone.

He didn’t even spare you a glance, his lips quirked up in a cheesy grin at the dumb joke he’d just read. Kuroo didn’t like to fight in the least, but recently it seemed like you were riding his ass about something every moment he took a breath. “So what I’ve been out of a job for a week? We’re not on the streets are we? I’ll get a job soon enough.”

You were at your wits end. You pushed his feet off the couch roughly and took amusement in the way he almost completely fell off the couch, his gaze snapping to you in a warning glare, “Not a week, Tetsurou. Almost 2 months. 2 Months since you were fired.” You growled down at him, wanting so badly to just get him to LISTEN to you. But all he did was shrug and sit up on the cushion, going to reach for the remote, but you beat him to it. You grabbed it off the coffee table quickly and pointed it at him, “Why were you fired again?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him, knowing the answer but wanting him to realize what he’d done wrong.

Kuroo rolled his eyes and reached for the remote from your hand, but you only pulled it back to rest against your shoulder, “Because my boss was being an ass.” He stated simply, “He wanted to make an exam-“

“No! Tetsurou. He fired your ass because you didn’t do your job! You didn’t complete your paperwork on time and gave you countless graces before he snapped just like I’m about to. Why can’t you take anything seriously? Or, for that matter, even try to be honest about what’s going on around you?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing as you stared down at him, “Why can’t you just grow the hell up like the rest of us! For Gods sake, even Kenma has got his shit together and has a good job! You remember Kenma, right? Your introverted friend? The one who couldn’t get his nose out of a game? Yeah, he’s got a job now. And where is his cocky senpai?” You asked rhetorically, pointing at him with the remote once again. “Oh. That’s right. Bumming on his girlfriend’s couch while she’s out busting her ass to make sure there’s food on the damn table.” You reminded with a twist of your lips in a scowl.

“Well no one asked you to, dammit!” He suddenly yelled, getting to his feet and towering over you, his gaze so sharp it could cut the tension in the room. “No one asked you to be the breadwinner of this fucking relationship!”

“Oh yeah? And who’s going to be the breadwinner if I’m not, Tetsurou? You? Don’t make me laugh, sweetheart.” You practically spat, you were furious with his laidback attitude and hands free way of life; Things didn’t work out without effort being exerted. “You’re such a fucking sloth, a slob, messing up our clean apartment. You make me sick to my stomach when I see you just lazing about when I’ve been out there sucking up to some real assholes just to get a smidge of income for the both of us to live on!”

Kuroo glared at you full throttle now, and you had to force yourself not to back down from the challenge. His glare was something that made you want to run and hide, but not now. Now, you were competing to see who could make the other submit first. “Well if that’s true, _____, and I make you so sick, then why don’t you just fucking dump me already and leave?”

You were taken aback by his words, but the rage inside you didn’t let up. “Me leave? As if! This is my apartment!” You yelled up at him.

His smirk wasn’t the one you loved, it held no familiarity. This smirk on his face was cruel and he let out a humorless laugh before he shook his head, “Oh, no ma’am! I wrote us into this agreement, into this nice apartment.” He stated easily, his eyes showing his pride in shutting you down so easily.

“Fine.” You hissed, pushing past him roughly to get to your purse near the door; You hid your face behind your hair so he couldn’t see the tears brimming in your eyes. You pulled on your shoes, pulling a muscle in your hand at how quick your actions were, and wrapped your jacket around your shoulders before you opened the front door and slammed it behind you.

Kuroo scoffed and turned to look at the front door, waiting for you to come back in and apologize for picking a fight, maybe even offer to make it up to him for rubbing his nose in his failures. He doesn’t know how long he stood there, waiting, but he rolled his eyes at your stubbornness, “Such a baby.” He muttered before he went into the bedroom to get dressed, having agreed to go out with a few friends to drink his issues away.

Your words were still running through his head as he walked into the dimly lit bar, even after he’d had a few beers could he still remember your voice and your true words. He could still hear your sniffles. Oh. No…. Those were his. He was silently crying into his beer, his head in his hands, his friends had already given him space and went off throughout the bar to see if they could catch some hot thing for themselves, but he was alone. Or so he thought. Your voice was so ingrained in him, that even through the alcohol he could hear you talking to him just next to his arm. He turned his head to address you, his blurry eyes catching the way you were reaching out and trying to comfort him.

Without much else, he reached out and took the offered hand before going home so that the argument could be mended.


After you’d left the apartment, you’d gone to Kenma’s house and waited for him on his doorstep for him to come back after work. He’d practically pleaded with you to stop apologizing for the intrusion the whole while you cried into him about yours and Kuroo’s argument.

“I know… Kuroo is hard to handle…. Sometimes…” Kenma mumbled as he rubbed your back, letting you hug him tighter, “But… He loves you… And he’s probably hating himself…. For not providing for you both.” He pointed out logically, knowing how his senior usually put up a silly front so that no one could see what he was really feeling inside. Kenma knew about Kuroo being jobless for a while, and he knew why, he’d even offered to get Kuroo a job at his gaming company as a temp or something in the meantime. But Kuroo had his pride and had declined the offer.

You sniffled against his chest, opening your eyes and staring at his collared shirt under your hand, “You’re right….” You whispered quietly, “And I’m not helping anything by getting after him…. I need to be his support, right? Not a nag.” You muttered, feeling a sense of defeat washing over you; You hated to lose anything, even if it was such a dumb argument. Slowly, you inhaled and pulled away from Kenma, giving him a tearstained reassuring smile before nodding to him, “Thank you, Kenma.” You were beyond grateful that the pudding head had decided to stick around in your and Kuroo’s life. Kenma smiled softly and nodded without a word, watching as you got up from his couch and rushed out his front door to get back to Kuroo.

“I hope you didn’t do anything stupid, Kuroo.” Kenma muttered with a sigh as he got up and went about unwinding from his hard day at work.


You couldn’t get home fast enough, you were bouncing in the taxi drivers backseat, and when you’d paid the guy and apologized for your restlessness, you’d bounded up the stairs two at a time to get to the apartment door. Your hands were shaking as you quickly grabbed your keys from your purse and unlocked the door, pushing it open in a rush before closing it behind you.

Something wasn’t right though. You didn’t bother taking off your shoes at the front door as you walked into the apartment, looking around with furrowed eyebrows at all the messy surroundings. Messier than when you’d left earlier.

Groaning from the bedroom made your heart constrict in your chest, and you bit the inside of your lip roughly, drawing blood, to keep your mind on the present instead of what the noise could be a result of. Reaching the bedroom door, seeing it was wide open, you felt your stomach drop as you looked back down the hall from where you’d come, realizing your brain had ignored the obvious signs.

Clothes littered the floor leading into the bedroom and beyond the doorway. The lamp on the side of the bed was turned on, illuminating the heartbreaking and stomach churning sight before you.

Kuroo lying on his back on the edge of the bed, his hands tangled in the hair of a woman who was currently taking him into her mouth, making him groan about how good she made him feel and how he was going to make her see stars for being such a good girl. But you’d stayed in the doorway too long, soon he finished and opened his eyes to regard the woman on her knees, but instead his eyes met you with surprise. Then confusion.

“_____?” He asked quietly, the woman looking up at him with a smirk before turning her head to see you. She squeaked in embarrassment before grabbing her clothes and rushing out of the apartment, not wanting to be caught in the crosshairs of the oncoming mess. She accidentally bumped your shoulder as she rushed by, and you didn’t even notice, your eyes still on Kuroo. Still seeing what he’d been doing. Who he’d been with. Just as you were about to turn away, he reached out, “_____! Wait! I can explain!” He called as he got to his feet, and you could see and hear he was drunk. He numbly put himself back in order in his pants before stumbling towards you, grabbing your wrist when you tried to pull away, “I can explain, babe, just wait.” He breathed, smelling of a brewery. “I thought she was you, kitten. I thought it was you making me feel good.” He slurred, his smirk coming to his face as his drunk mind conjured up memories of when you’d go down on him.

You practically gagged and pushed him away roughly, “You stink.” You muttered, wanting to say so much more. Wanting to cry and yell and hurt him like he hurt you, but you couldn’t bring your voice higher than a whisper. You couldn’t even bring tears to your eyes. You felt cold, and alone. “I hope she was worth it, Kuroo.” You got out, your voice sounding constricted and forced out of your lungs. Your eyes stared at him for a few seconds before shaking your head, feeling your lips tremble as the reality of what he’d done finally set in. You quickly turned away and rushed out of the apartment back to Kenma’s house.

anonymous asked:

ok i've followed you since the beginning and i'm so happy to see how this blog has grown and SOOOO glad you started writing smut because it's amazing. can i please request a (preferably a bit dom if thats ok) namjoon smut? thank you!!

thank you so much and OOOHMYGOD i’m sSOO glad you requested this! I hope you enjoyed ;)

Namjoon Says (SMUT)

Pairing: Namjoon (Rap Monster-BTS) x Reader

Genre: SmutttTTTTT

Word Count: 1,778

Summary: You and Namjoon play your own little version of ‘Simon Says’…

Originally posted by hongshiyoung

WARNING! This here is smut, and it contains a bit of Dominant/Daddy stuff in it. You hath been warned!! Do enjoy ≖‿≖

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