hands-clasped

The Sun Will Rise With My Name On Your Lips

by Phillipa19

“You should just move in.” Louis froze, eyes wide, heart kicking in his chest as Harry paused and looked up, looking at Louis warily.

“Really?” Harry whispered and Louis clasped his hands together to hide his shaking fingers.

“I mean, you’re here anyway … I just … yeah?” Louis finished weakly, and a few seconds passed in agonising silence until a shockingly bright smile stretched across Harry’s face.

***

When Eleanor breaks up with Louis he finds it hard to keep pretending that Harry isn’t what he’s wanted since the day he first met him.

Words: 37905, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English



via AO3 works tagged ‘Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson’ http://ift.tt/1CEd8hR

Storm Clouds May Gather and Stars May Collide


Mickey was afraid of storms. Ian couldn’t remember when he discovered this, but now it felt like something he had always known. Mickey likes mustard, Mickey is a terrible driver, Mickey is scared of thunderstorms.

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[[Closed RP]]

anonymousfnaf;

Rosemary sensed something deep in her chest that something was wrong. She looked around with a big frown and clasped her hands together. She shut her eyes and concentrated. (Ness? Can you hear me?? Are you ok??!!)

baebot asked:

Cassandra :D

Lavellan smirked, watching the Seeker dance around the dummy with her sword drawn. Falling against the outside wall of the smithy to watch her train, each arch and swing of her blade swiftly cutting air and then cloth.

"I wasn’t flattering you when I said you were a storm, I meant it. A force of nature to be feared." Lavellan leaned his head against the cold stone, Cassandra barely glancing over her shoulder at him.

"Do you fear me, Inquisitor? Or is it still just hate for the Chantry’s Orders?" Cassandra tossed over her shoulder with a slight breathlessness, before stabbing through the dummy and sending more hay flying.

"Mm, mostly the hate. But the Chantry is a corrupt force itself, I expect no less from their Orders." Lavellan hummed, pushing off the wall with his shoulder and toeing over to the Seeker with his hands clasped behind his back. Circling her as not to be hit by one of her swings, his smirk twisting to a grin. "I will say getting to know you though, Seeker. You are very soft under that armor."

"I—thank you." Cassandra looking over her shoulder again, a bit surprised at the sincerity in the Inquisitor’s voice.

"Oh yes, I bet everything underneath is wonderfully soft and full. Your hips especially."

It was practically out of reflex, the swing of her fist she let go. Sending Inquisitor Lavellan stumbling backwards, into the wall, and stumbling to sit on the steps. The Inquisitor laughing as he nursed his cheek, Cassandra strolling over and glaring down at him.

"You have trouble being sincere."

"I do, but I can say honestly…" Lavellan glancing up, his hand still on his cheek and a genuine smile on his face. "You are good woman, Cassandra and you will make an even better Divine."

La Cucina:

The kitchen was where mother resided most
She perpetuated the stereotype of “No men allowed,”
As if to placate her secret culinary club of any interlopers
Shame, I always wanted to learn how to cook
For if I ever met an angel who agreed to clasp my hand,
I’d take her into my kitchen and make a candlelit dinner for two
I think mother insisted on the rule
Because it was her only private space
All of the ingredients aligned just how she wanted them, it was her domain
Furthermore, it was where SHE could wield the knife for a change
That night all those years ago made her chest capsize
I don’t blame her for not wanting someone who looked so similar
Encroaching on her private enclosure
Too much anxiety to be had from the memories
It was in that kitchen where
She received the news of her eviction,
She swore she had gotten off the bottle,
Where she taught my sister that where you cook was sacred
Each dish she brought over to the dining room bore a piece of her soul
Perhaps that’s how she knew best to give us her love
She always said that was her secret ingredient

james & orla: two become three

At the sound of approaching footsteps Emily raised her aqua orbs, a wide toothy smile plastered upon her painted ruby red lips. “Come here please my dear. James go and make yourself usefully and bring us some tea, there’s a good boy,” Emily chirped, shooting her son a all too knowing look before shooing him out of the spacious sitting room. “No where were we?” The motherly blonde asked aloud, clasping her hands together with a small clap as her dainty palms collided with one another. She walked over to the two seater velvet love seat that had been positioned in the alcove of the room beneath a large window, brushing out an odd crease from the lace net curtains before seating herself upon the comfortable seat, patting the space beside her. Once she was positive that her son was more than preoccupied with his appointed task in the kitchen; a loud fluffy of noise could be easily heard as James fiddled around pulling various cups and saucers from the cupboards. “I never truly thought that I’d live to see the day that my son would not only find somebody that he completely cares about, but also that I’d be blessed with such a wonderful grandchild,” Emily spoke softly, flashing Orla a warm, tender smirk. “I want to thank-you for saving my son in so many ways, I don’t actually think that James is even aware of all those ways himself as a matter of fact. I know that that wasn’t the most pleasant experience to have to endure but please know that I class you as as much of my daughter as if you’d been formed from my own flesh and blood. If there’s anything that you ever need my dear, please don’t hesitate to ask.” Emily finished before quickly clasping her arms around a Orla just before James came strolling back into the living room, ladened down with a vintage floral tea tray with an array of china cups, saucers, biscuits, a tea pot of pre made tea and a freshly prepared bottle for Tabitha. “Whatever happened, I had nothing to do with it - I think!”

She used to be so fast [Some sort of Tomadashi drabble]

His stare slows her down.

His touch slows her down.

His soft lips pressing hungrily down on hers slow her down.

His hands fumbling for the clasp of her bra slow her down.

His eyes skimming through her naked body slow her down.

His ragged breath on her throbbing skin slows her down.

His sugar laced words slow her down.

His thumb brushing on her cheek slows her down.

His soft kisses on her tearful face slow her down.

His one sided smile slows her down.

His casual smirk whenever he’s said something clever slows her down.

Everything about Tadashi Hamada slows her down.

But when he jumped into the conflagrant building, her world didn’t just slow down, it came into an abrupt halt.

Kudos for Tadashi Hamada. You have consumed Gogo Tomago like the fire that snatched you away from her arms.

zaberisk asked:

"Is that blood on your shirt?"

The Knight released a howl of pain after a raging ball of fire collided into his chest - if Aren had been any other man he would’ve fallen to his knees, but the Towering Paladin staggered backwards from the blow, likely because he barely had the time to conjure a ward of light to somewhat deter her attack — Arendas silently cursed himself for wandering too far into Quel’thalas to begin his Lynx Crusade. "You — You’ll regret this, Runt." He roared at the Mage — The area reeked with burning flesh and his life’s blood began to ooze from his torched torso.

The fire had obliterated his thick leather vest, leaving his chest exposed — The Paladin outstretched his paw and the air surrounding his open hand had been illuminated in the holy light — The Knight clasped his hand around a luminescent long sword — the crisp blade gleamed dangerously in the afternoon sun, but that was not all that had materialized. A gargantuan shield wall had been strapped to his forearm: the crest depicted a mighty lion with it’s slavering maw open wide in a furious roar. The injury that encompassed his chest had all but disappeared in the warm glow descending from the treeline — though Aren looked unphased from the large amount of power he had just drawn from his own mana storage. "Has a Lynx got your tongue — Runt?" He taunted as he rose his wall towards his chest — He couldn’t really stand his ground — So he raised his blade and charged through what he thought would be the closest thing to Ragnaros’ fiery lair sooner rather than later.

((I don’t know your character that well so I had to improvise and do a combat scene. xD))

niiklausx:

Klaus grinned listening to Bonnie’s response,
moving towards the young witch.
”Now you know that I do want that.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t happy about it. I am,
very much so actually.” She let her hands
clasp behind her back and took a step back
from him. “I just didn’t know you liked to.
Guess I learn something new about you
everyday.”

anonymous asked:

Veggie Burgers, 18, 31?

#18: Bite, #31: Blame Me.
Thank you so much for waiting so long, dear! I hope this fic makes up for the long wait—it took me a while to get to it because of university, but it was so fun to write! I wrote some sweet little Veggie Burgers fluff with Alfred and Tommy as little five year olds playing together, and I hope you enjoy it! Your fic is beneath the ‘Read More’! Smooch smooch!!

Keep reading

the thing about the ultimate cosmic meaninglessness of man is that you can either wallow in your insignificance and the attendant pain that brings in a culture so obsessed with fame and being important,

or you can fall in love with literally everything and everyone in a dozen small ways because everything still exists despite the statistical unlikelihood of it all and that’s a goddamn miracle

4

buffy realises she loves spike

you hide yourself but i see you clear
one man who said he would die to save his world