seen from France
seen from Malaysia
seen from Egypt
seen from Nigeria
seen from Yemen
seen from Singapore
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Tunisia
seen from Slovakia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
Ouran High School Host Club
☆ Tamaki Suoh
↳ Headcanons
↳ One shots
↳ Scenarios
☆ Kaoru Hitachiin
↳ Headcanons
↳ One shots
↳ Scenarios
☆ Hikaru Hitachiin
↳ Headcanons
↳ One shots
↳ Scenarios
☆ Mitsukuni Haninozuka
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☆ Kyoya Ootori
↳ Headcanons
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Lucifer One Shot Preview
Fandom | Lucifer Pairing | Deckerstar
A little preview of a Lucifer one shot I’m working on (and will hopefully have ready tomorrow):
It was strange to leave the precinct alone, but also nice in its own, lonely sort of way. A call back to simpler times, even as she missed the person that generally made everything so complicated. She had a brief moment to try and pick out the stars among the city’s light pollution and take a breath. The day had almost been boring without Lucifer – but considering the mood he’d been in, she was grateful he finally took her advice to claim a personal day for himself. One thought led to another and she began to wonder if he was feeling better. If – now that there were no secrets between them – he’d tell her what was wrong on his own or if nothing had actually changed. She missed the very gentle flapping she’d come to associate with angels doing weird shit and nearly leapt out of her skin when the man took no caution in approaching her out of nowhere.
“Hello, Chloe,” he said as though appearing from thin air was normal. She closed her eyes, berating herself. She had been around angels long enough now that she thought she’d be used to the whole ‘poofing’ thing by now, and yet her heart still raced every time. She took a second to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and collect herself before turning around with a bob.
“Amenadiel,” she greeted him as unaffectedly as she could, trying to play off the fact that he had once again startled her. A habit she had been making just in case Lucifer ever decided it was fun to poof and startle the shit out of her whenever he was bored, to be honest. The more somber brother was good practice. “How are you? How’s Linda and Charlie?”
“Quite well,” he smiled, and she felt part of her heart ease at the obvious honesty behind that look. He had come a long, long way. To see him now – so happy to be here on Earth with his family – it was hard not to smile back.
“Good, good,” she trailed off, watching him. Waiting for the ‘but’. Because ever since Lucifer, there was always a but – and sometimes that butt was exposed in ass-less slacks. She glanced around the garage to confirm no one was around before drawing closer. “What’s wrong?”
Amenadiel also looked around before taking another step closer and asked softly, “Have you noticed that my brother is a bit more… surly than normal?”
She huffed out a breath that freed the hair she had tucked behind her ear and quickly put it back in place with an eye roll, “Surly is a bit generous, don’t you think?”
The broad angel laughed, put at ease by her tone, and said, “Fair. But… I fear this isn’t simply one of his moods. Generally, his ire tends to be related to some revelation he’s had with Linda, but this time I think it might be blunter than that.”
“Blunter?” She asked. She let out a sigh that deflated her a little, taking one last look around before drawing closer still and said, “Spill, Amenadiel. Do you know why Lucifer’s acting like a prissy house cat or not? Because it’s driving me insane.”
The past few days the man had been all but unbearable. He’d show up to a crime scene scowling and on edge, his shoulders nearly around his ears, and snap at anyone who got too close. His answers were clipped and nothing like the sassy, suave man that somehow – annoyingly and charmingly – lit up something as gruesome as a murder scene with his personality. A number of officers had asked her if everything was ok. Well out of earshot of the devil, of course. They had learned what happened if you asked from a poor intern that had tried to ask about his bad mood while handing him gloves. He had no intention of admitting anything was wrong. Try and suggest he go home and relax? Lord, just as bad.
Amenadiel sighed a soft, “I was worried this might happen,” beneath his breath, so soft she almost didn’t catch it. She gave him a look when he seemed hesitant to put a name to Lucifer’s mood and watched him cave with far more ease than he used to.
“I’ll tell you if you agree to… assist him. I’d handle it myself but he’s never been very forthcoming with me when it comes to this particular subject. At least, not for a very, very long time.”
“Of course I’ll ‘assist’ him, Amenadiel, he’s my partner,” she said, deflating once more at his tone. It sounded serious, but also vague enough to be something completely not serious and just some weird angel non-sense. “Spit it out, what’s wrong with Lucifer?”
And of course – of course – the thing that ended up coming out of Amenadiel’s mouth was something friggin weird and angel related. Because that was Chloe’s life now. Weird angel shit. But at least it was something she could mildly Google.
RIP the sanity of her search history.
Insomnia (Whumptober 2018 Day 3)
For @la-vie-en-whump‘s Whumptober 2018 prompts.
All prompts from last and this year: HERE Previous Days: Stabbed | Bloody Hands |
Are you sleeping?
Killian stared at the text message, tempted to ignore it completely. It was three in the morning; by rights he should be sleeping. The drugs that Whale insisted he keep taking were supposed to grant him a dream free eight hours’ rest before slogging through the day. He was supposed to be healing, supposed to be getting better.
The problem was, however, that the drugs were making it all worse.
Far from a restful night’s sleep, the painkillers crashed over him like a rogue wave and dragged him into the depths of his nightmares. Convoluted memories turned into horrific possibilities turned into distorted feelings of terror and grief. John’s death morphed into Gold murdering Michael. His own torture at the hands of Malcolm and Felix became a front row seat to Emma’s slow demise.
Liam in the center of his gun sight, his eyes frightened but his demeanor calm.
That particular memory was hazy at best and never ended well.
But that wasn’t the problem. Nightmares he could handle. When he could wake up. The problem with all the meds Whale kept trying to force down his throat was that once they dragged him under, it felt like he’d gotten wrapped up in an anchor line with no way to cut himself free.
So he’d stopped taking them. And he’d stopped sleeping. The ratty apartment he’d found in less than twenty four hours after realizing that he’d almost shot his brother coming out of one of his nightmares smelled funny. The sounds of the city were all wrong here in Southie and there weren’t nearly enough locks on the doors. Not when Killian hadn’t taken a single weapon with him. He couldn’t risk it. He wouldn’t risk it.
Not when he knew his brother rarely let Killian’s opinions on what was best for him get in the way of Liam’s own thoughts on the matter.
Not when he’d seen, firsthand, how well Emma could pick locks.
Speaking of Emma…
Aye, luv
He sent the sarcastic message back before he could think better of it. The truth was, he could have ignored the message, but he really didn’t want to. He was so goddamned tired of being tired and injured. He just wanted to-
Then let me in.
Killian’s eyes jumped from the too-bright screen to the front entryway. The light filtering through under the door revealed a shadow of feet – one of which was tapping an annoyed rhythm. He could almost see the frustrated look on Emma’s face as she waited to hear footsteps coming to let her in.
Killian hadn’t even heard her approach the door.
Seriously.
I’ll just break in.
Your neighbor looks like she’s getting ready to call the cops.
Killian sighed, but levered himself painfully to his feet and padded – limped - to the door. He barely had the lock turned before Emma had turned the knob and pushed her way in. She was dressed in a suspiciously familiar hoodie and pajama pants, two blankets folded in her arms.
One of which had very clearly come from his bed… the bed in Liam’s brownstone.
“Conspiring with my brother, are we?” he asked with a nod to the woven material in her arms.
Emma ignored him, surveying the Spartan apartment with a critical eye. “How long are you going to do this to yourself?” she asked without turning around.
Killian didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “This is where I live now,” he answered with a shrug that made him groan.
Emma did turn around at this, one eyebrow raised in an imitation of his own signature look. “Where are they?” she asked – sounding much like the accusation he knew it was.
Killian just shook his head. “I can’t; Swan, I…”
“Some Advil then. Come on,” she ordered, offering her hand for him to take.
He’d found out recently that he was helpless to resist her requests, demands, bribes, and yes, orders. Killian took a stilted step forward, mindful of all the hurts that he hadn’t given a chance to heal, and tangled their fingers together. She led him to what passed for a kitchen, the smell particularly potent in here, and set about to fiddling with his kettle.
“You don’t even like tea,” he accused, his fingers playing idly with the blankets she’d left on the table. Her blanket – the one she’d saved from the fire and nearly gotten them both killed for. The one with her name embroidered into the corner that was the only piece of her past she could lay claim to.
Emma
“But you do,” was all she offered in reply, kicking the stove when it made a peculiar sound and then reaching into the cabinet where he kept his box of tea.
She’d never been in the apartment before, but she knew where he kept his tea.
“I don’t want to sleep,” he admitted into the silence, staring at the careful knitting beneath his hands.
Emma’s voice was soft when she answered, absolving him. “I know. You don’t have to tonight. But you don’t have to stay awake alone.”
He wanted to protest. He wanted to send her home, wanted to send her back to Liam’s, wanted to make sure she was safe. His brother was safe; Killian was decidedly not at the moment.
But he wanted. Oh, how he suddenly wanted not to be alone. He wanted to know someone was just down the hall should he need something. He wanted to know that someone was there to make sure he was following Whale’s orders even when he had his own plan in mind for recovery. He wanted to know that he was home.
“Okay.”
He didn’t sleep. Not that night, anyway. They sat on the ratty couch in the ratty apartment under the blankets that had no right being in this place and watched the sunrise. But when morning came and the nightmares faded back into the dark, Killian’s head found its way to Emma’s shoulder and he never remembered falling asleep.
“It’s okay, Killian,” she had whispered moments before he fell to his dreams, “I’ll be right here.”
@killian-whump @gilliangrissom @gusenitsaa @pirate-owl @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable @ladyciaramiggles @cocohook38 @nonnyj @queen-mabs-revenge @eala-captian @crystalyte @kmomof4 @whumptober2018
I really want to start writing again so stay tuned for some imagines and stuff. And if anyone sees this, send in requests. I’ll write for anything, especially the ones in the tags.
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One shot Forum dessiné Fuuusion
I like this one so much :>
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I wrote a quick NYE one shot, and I did not go through it; so I am sorry if there is a lot of errors but I really wanted to get this out before the new year.
Imagine your OTP at a New Year’s Eve party. Before the countdown starts, Person A goes to get drinks. While doing this, Person A runs into someone (an ex or a friend) and they catch up. Person A ends the conversation because they need to get back to Person B. As the countdown starts, A still cannot find B, and they start to panic until they see Person B seconds before the New Year. They get to Person B just in time to give them a New Year’s kiss.
