(let's not talk about the forehead)

anonymous asked:

OMG. Did Ollie find him? TELL THE BEAN IT'S OK HE CAN HAVE A DAD

“’m̵̮̘̲̟͔͍͔ ͇̳̟̤͞s̻͍o̻̲̲̱͙̪̞ ̯̞͓̙̱̦̩s̯̺͞t̡͉͖̞̤u̜̤̠̺̱͢p͈̙͘i̢̗̜̥̝d̳̲́!̞̯͕͕̥͖̱ “

Anti buzzes and slashes his knife through the air. He screams in anger and throws the knife into a nearby wall where it sticks deep. He grabs his hair and pulls on it as he struggles to keep his corporeal form.

“S̵͈̜̪̩̣t̰̼͓̬̫̘ṷ͎̗̯̕p̷̙i̬̲̙͉̠͕d̫̲̜̳̞̞,̺̣̻ ̦s̪̫͚̦̺̼t̘ͅup͓̤̠̼̀i̖̤͎d̛̮͓̤̦̲ͅ, ̸̤̣̮͙̥͖s͍͉̻͚̤͖̬͘t̝͡ṳ̴̙̦͚͕͓̦p͏̘̥̠̠i̖̺̝d͎̳̗̖!”

“Anti?” Oliver knocks on the door. “Please let me in so we can talk about this.”

Anti shakes his head and backs away from the door until he hits a wall and slides to the floor.

“Anti, it’s alright. Doc didn’t even mind, really!” Oliver leans his forehead on the door. “It’s okay for you to want a dad.”

“No, I mess everything up,” Anti growls, kicking a box of cleaning supplies. “I’m not ever coming out again.”

Ollie giggles. “You can’t live in our supply closet, Anti. There’s no pizza in a supply closet.”

Anti doesn’t answer, and there’s a moment of pause as something shuffles outside the door. Suddenly there’s another knock. “Hey, kid. I, um, I saved you a few slices.” Doc swallows the weird lump in his throat. “Do you want to talk about this?”

There’s no answer, so Doc nods and sets the plate down. “You don’t have to talk right now. I’ll be in my clinic whenever you need me.” He motions for Ollie to follow him, and the two of them leave.

wingardium-letmefuckyou  asked:

Hey, I love your gods&monsters series, could you write something about Apollo? ^Preferably something with a positive vibe, something romantic... But that's totally up to you, anything about Apollo makes me happy

Apollo has many sons.

He only ever has nine daughters.

~

He has his first when he’s young, too young to know better.

Daphne is beautiful and coy, and leads him on a merry chase. He catches her, and finally silences her laughing mouth with his own. They sleep together, and she leaves bite marks up his neck.

Her father, the river god Peneus, finds out about them. Apollo had not known it was secret. Peneus is a hard, selfish god, and he slits Daphne’s throat for her impurity. Better a dead daughter then one who does not listen.

Apollo finds out too late. He arrives to Daphne dead on the side of her father’s riverbank, stomach swollen in a way Apollo doesn’t remember it being the last time he saw her, which was – which was – it couldn’t have been that long, could it?

He cuts open her stomach, throat too tight to call for his sister’s help, heart too tight to bear anyone else looking at Daphne’s slack, bloody face.

The child is still warm.

The child is still alive.

He cannot bring himself to bury Daphne, to sentence her to an afterlife beneath the earth. Instead, he transforms her into a large laurel tree, so her beauty will remain eternal. He presses a hand against her trunk and says, “My hair will have you, my lyre will have you, my quiver will have you.” Apollo looks down at the baby, too small, tucking into the crook of his arm. “Our daughter will have you.”

He calls her Calliope. Their daughter weaves laurel leaves into her hair every day of her life.

~

When he is older, but not wiser, he gets drunk on the top of Olympus. It is not the first time, nor the last, but this time it is different.

This time Hestia, goddess of the hearth, of warmth, of family, places her delicate hand around the back of his neck and leads him to her rooms.

Months later, he lands his chariot, the sun finally set. His arms are shaking, and his legs are covered from burns when the sun grew tired and tried to consume him, but could not. Hestia stands before him, something held in her arms. “What’s wrong?” he asks roughly, throat dry and the skin of his lips cracking. Hestia rarely leaves Olympus.

“I am no mother,” she tells him, and he doesn’t understand until she places a warm, squirming bundle in his arms. He holds it to his chest automatically. “Her name is Terpsichore.”

She leaves before he has the chance to question her. He looks down, and the baby has his golden eyes and her dark hair. “Hello, little one.”

Calliope is fully grown now. Apollo leaves Terpsichore in her care, and promises to come when called.

“Yes, Father,” Calliope says, rolling her eyes as her little sister grabbing fistfuls of her curly hair. There’s an ink smudge across her face, and her home is bursting with books. He should really talk to Athena about letting Calliope use one of her libraries.

He kisses both their foreheads before leaving.

~

Apollo falls in love with a Spartan prince, graceful and strong and with a wide, pretty mouth. He falls in love with a mind that can match him, with a smile that leaves him breathless. Hyacinth captures his affections and attentions utterly, and for a few short years Apollo is enchanted, for a few short years Apollo feels a love deep in his chest that is only surpassed by the love he has for his sister.

Then Hyacinth is killed.

He shows up at his daughters’ door, and Calliope and Terpsichore take one look at him and usher him inside. He can’t bring himself to speak, but he’s covered in blood that isn’t his own, is pale and shaken and mourning.

They clean him and care for him and settle him to bed, although he cannot bring himself to sleep.

Less than a week later, there is a mortal woman there looking for him. Her eyes are red, but she stands tall and her lips are pressed into a straight line. A toddler who shares her dark coloring clutches her skirt. “I am the Princess of Sparta, and wife of Hyacinth.”

Apollo hadn’t known Hyacinth had a wife. He hadn’t asked. Surely he would have noticed – but then again, perhaps not. Love makes people stupid. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“As I am sorry for yours,” she says in return, which surprises him. “Sparta must have a prince. I am to be remarried.” She brings the little girl forward, and she can’t be more than a couple years old. “This is Urania, the child of myself and my husband. I have been ordered to kill her.”

Apollo flinches. He knows such things are done, but – she is Hyacinth’s daughter. “I will take her.”

She smiles. “I thought you might.” She kisses the girl on both cheeks, hands her to Apollo, then leaves as quickly as she’d came.

Urania watches them with big liquid eyes that she got from her mother. He stays with his daughters for a year after that, playing with Urania and watching Terpsichore dance and listening to Calliope’s beautiful poetry. Urania loves the stars. She stares up at them each night, and Apollo patiently explains the name of each one.

When she is fully grown, he begs a piece of ambrosia off Hestia and feeds it to her.

Urania is his daughter as surely as if his blood ran through her veins. He cannot bear to watch her age and die.

~

Marpessa chooses Ida over him, but it is too late. She already swells with his child, and he could use that to keep her. He could force her to stay at his side, she loves him, she said so, it would not be such a cruel thing.

But she is not wrong in her assessment. Apollo is immortal, and will not grow old with her, will not change with her, will not die with her. Ida will.

There’s fear on her face, and he thinks she deserves it, for proclaiming to love him and choosing another. But he is not interested in keeping her captive for a lifetime.

“Have the child, and give it to me,” he commands, “and I will leave you to your life.”

Ida is furious in his jealousy that Marpessa will bear a child for Apollo before she bears a child for him, so there is that comfort, at least.

Artemis delivers the child to ensure it goes smoothly. She’s beaming as she holds her niece. “What will you call her?”

“You choose,” he says, running the back of his finger over the babe’s soft cheek.

His sister considers the squalling child for a long moment before she says, “I think you should name her Thalia.”

“Thalia it is,” he says.

She’s mischievous, and reminds him of himself on his worst days. She grows, and pulls pranks on nymphs and deities. Her older sisters are constantly straining to keep her out of worse trouble.

He gets a frantic message from Calliope that Thalia has gone missing, and he eventually finds her at the edge of a scorched battlefield, the soldiers long gone but the bodies and stench remaining. He’s furious at her for going to a place so dangerous, but when he marches up to her he sees something that he hadn’t expected.

She’s hallway through a story about pranking a wood nymph that he knows is at least half lies and a quarter exaggeration. Curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach as he laughs so hard he can’t breathe, is Ares.

Apollo hasn’t seen the tormented god of war this carefree since he was a child.

Thalia finally notices him, and cuts herself off, paling. “Oh, uh. Hi Dad.”

Ares is downright giggling. “Hello Thalia,” Apollo crosses his arms and glares, “You shouldn’t go wandering away from your sisters.” She winces and nods, ducking her head to look up at him through her eyelashes, doing her best to look contrite and innocent.

It might have worked, if Apollo hadn’t taught her that look himself.

He sits down on the ground next to Ares, who doesn’t acknowledge his presence beyond shifting enough to use Apollo’s thigh as his pillow. “Well,” Apollo says, “keep going.”

Thalia lights up and launches back into the story, and when she finishes she continues into another which is mostly true and somehow even more ridiculous.

~

Because he’s an idiot with a death wish, Apollo ends up spending a month with Hecate in the underworld. He stumbles out one night when she falls asleep, because he feels if he doesn’t leave now there’s a possibility that he never will.

One of the most horrifying moments of his life is looking for the way out, and finding Hades instead. The god of death looks to him, walking around naked in his realm, to the direction he came from, and says, “That was you? Are you crazy?”

“It … it was a good time,” he says faintly.

“Obviously,” Hades shakes his head, and slices his hand down in the air in front of them, creating a doorway for Apollo out of his realm.

Apollo gives him a clumsy salute and steps through.

Roughly a year later, he’s playing his lyre when a little girl with black skin and grey hair and eyes appears in front of him. It’s terrifying enough that he accidentally snaps one of his strings.

“Lady Styx,” he says, voice higher pitched than normal. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The child snorts and reaches her hands into absolutely nothing and pulls out a baby. She holds it out to him. “Hecate says this is your problem now.”

Improbably, the babe already has a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. Her eyes shift between every color, unable to decide, and there is something a little too knowing about her face for one so young. Artemis says he too was born knowing too much.

A child of Apollo and Hecate can only be a mistake, something that will never fit quite well among others of her own kind.

He sighs and take the baby. “Very well.”

“I like the name Clio,” the child goddess says before leaving him.

Thalia tells him it’s too small and to give it back. Urania is fascinated, and takes over most of the child’s care, which is likely for the best since Calliope is neck deep into a new epic, and would be cross if she needed to pull her attention from it to rear a child.

As Clio ages, she stays just as unsettling and strange. Hephaestus shows up around the time she starts breaking into Athena’s libraries, even though stunts like that get people worse than killed. “I don’t know why she gave her to me,” Apollo says as they watch the teenager devouring a stolen tome on the history of the Persian Empire. “Hecate raised you, I don’t understand why she didn’t want to raise her actual daughter.”

“You’re a better parent than she is,” he says thoughtfully. Apollo gives him an unimpressed look, but he says, “I’m serious. Your girls are turning out to be quite lovely – all of them.”

“Of course they are,” he says, nose in the air, but grins when Hephaestus elbows him the side.

By the time she’s an adult, Clio is easily one of the most accomplished scholars to ever exist. She and Athena regularly get into academic debates that last weeks, and scare off anyone from daring to come closer.

She stays strange, and too smart, and Apollo loves her utterly.

~

Apollo is lying on the beach when a large wave overtakes him and drags him into the sea. He struggles for the surface, but can’t seem to shake the waves, and is dragged to the sea floor. He’s a god, so he won’t suffocate, but he’s terrified when the water drags him down to Poseidon’s palace and deposits him in front of his wife. “Apollo,” she says, “I can see what your daughters will become.”

He has no idea what she’s talking about. “Excuse me?”

Amphitrite grabs his jaw and pulls him closer. He doesn’t dare resist. She looks into his eyes, then smirks. “The god of prophecy doesn’t know that which he has wrought. How … ironic.”

“Is it?” he wonders. He really hopes she doesn’t kill him.

“Quite,” she smirks, and with a flick of her wrist she’s naked before him. “I wish for one of your daughters to be mine as well. Lay with me.”

“Uh,” he says eloquently, because Amphitrite has never given her husband any children, he hadn’t even known she could. If he sleeps with her, Poseidon might kill him, regardless of how many people the god of the sea sleeps with that aren’t his wife. But if he refuses her, she might kill him, and it’s not like having sex with Amphitrite is any sort of hardship. She’s as gorgeous as she is terrifying. “Okay.”

He’s deposited back on the shore the next day, feeling oddly used.

If Poseidon has any opinions on Apollo knocking up his wife, he doesn’t voice them.

Amphitrite doesn’t foist the baby upon him as soon as she’s born. Instead years pass, and one day a dark skinned, amber eyed sea god shows up at his door. There’s a teenager at his side, who has Apollo’s coloring and Amphitrite’s bone structure, and hair that shimmers golden-green in sunlight. “Glaucus,” Apollo greets warily, “and who might this be?”

“I call her Erato,” Glaucus says, “I’ve raised her since birth. It’s time for her to join her sisters.”

Erato is not as terrifying as her mother. Instead there’s a sweetness about her that she must have gotten from Glaucus. She’s shy at first, and spends many days looking out into the sea. But his daughters are persistent, and soon she’s laughing and joining them. There’s something dreamy about her, and she loves love, writes romantic ballads and beautiful poems, so much so that Aphrodite commends her talent.

Erato is also the most like him in the area of her love life, meaning she leaves behind a constant trail of heartbroken men and women.

Calliope complains about the constant wailing around their home, and Clio proves she has some of her mother’s talent with magic when she casts an unplotable spell around their home so former lovers stop following Erato home. Of course, she forgets to tell both Apollo and her sisters about this, and it’s very confusing for everyone until Clio remembers to tell them where the house is.

His daughters’ home is a place of constant music, poetry, and literature. He thinks he’s starting to suspect what Amphitrite was talking about.

~

Not all hunts are easy things.

Apollo feels the moment his sister is wounded, the arrow through her abdomen as painful for him as it is for her. He’s in his chariot, and he can’t leave it, if he leaves his chariot unattended the sun will consume it, and then consume the earth. “Calliope!” he snaps, and his eldest daughter appears by his side.

“Father?” she asks, huddling into him and away from the sun. “What’s going on?”

“Artemis is hurt, I have to help,” he says urgently, and places the reins into her hands. “You can do this.”

She pales, but steps forward, keeping a white knuckled grip on the chariot. “Go.”

He kisses his forehead, and goes to his sister. Her huntresses have set up an honor guard around her, defending and dying as cruel faced giants draws closer. “ARES!” he screams, and he doesn’t know what they’re fighting for, what this war is about, but it doesn’t matter. “WE NEED YOU!”

The god of war appears, and he’s clearly come from some other battle, covered in mud and other worse things. He throws himself into the battle, but it’s not until they gain more aid that the tides turn in their favor.

He first sees Erato on the field, water swirling around her as she slices through them all, the power of her mother making her golden eyes glow. Clio is at her back, the glittering magic Hecate passed on to her filling her hands.

Thalia has long curved knives flying from her fingers, and all who face her don’t figure out they’re dead until she’s already left them behind. Urania is letting loose arrows against the giants and though she’s not his by blood, not a goddess by birth, none would know it watching each of her arrows hit true and take down another enemy.

Terpsichore uses her honed abilities of dance differently here on the battlefield, twirling and ducking around enemies with her sword flashing as it slices through all who go against her. Celestial fire licks up the sword, and the daughter of Hestia and Apollo is laughing as she dances through the battlefield.

He wants to yell at them, to tell them to get off the battlefield, to get to safety. But it is thanks to them that the fight is being won, so he says nothing.

Ares looks around, grimaces, and catches Apollo’s eye before he disappears from the battle. They must be invoking his name. Apollo is only grateful he managed to stay as long as he did.

The giants are all dead by the time Apollo manages to make it to his sister’s side. She’s pale and covered in blood, her huntresses seated around her and trying to stop the bleeding. “What were you thinking?” Apollo demands, grabbing her hand and pushing her hair from her forehead. Terpsichore comes forward and lays her burning sword against the wound, sealing and cauterizing it at once. Both Apollo and Artemis scream

“They – took – a – child,” she pants, leaning in for his touch, for his comfort, and he has never been able to deny her anything. He pulls her up, biting back a scream at the pain that rips through them both, and props her up against his chest. “A – nymph’s child. Zeus’s child. They killed – it’s mother. That – that sort of injustice will – will not be – tolerated.” She lays her head back against his shoulder, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, and Apollo almost wishes the battle were not over, because he wants to murder something.

“I’ll get it,” Erato says, and a moment later she returns with a toddler in her arms. She has the copper skin of Zeus, and pale blonde hair. “What do we do now? Zeus does not care for his children.”

“I think it’s time you became a big sister,” Thalia says, and Erato looks stricken. “Right Dad?”

He looks to his sister, who nods. “I can think of no better place for her. She cannot stay with me – a hunting party is not place for children.”

“Very well,” he sighs. “Does she have a name?”

The girl attempts to hide behind Erato’s hair, then says, “I am Euterpe.”

“Welcome, Euterpe,” he says.

It’s then that the sun finally sets, and Calliope stumbles into existence next to them. She’s covered in deep, bleeding burns, but it’s not as bad he feared it would be. She’s certainly faired better at her first time driving the chariot than he had. “What’s happening? Is everything all right?”

“We have a new sister,” Thalia says brightly, even as Clio rushes forward to tend to her burns.

Euterpe, thankfully, seems to inherit none of Zeus’s madness. She has a singing voice like a clear bell, and soon surpasses even Calliope’s talent with the lyre.

He knows, technically, that Euterpe is his half-sister. But it takes him no time at all to regard her as his daughter, to love her with same simple ferocity as he loves her sisters.

~

For a while, all is well, is quiet. His daughters are all fully grown, accomplished and beautiful.

Then Demeter corners him when he’s walking through quiet city and pins him against an alley wall. “If Amphitrite thinks she can one up me over this,” the goddess hisses, “she’s sorely mistaken.”

At least this time he knows what’s going on when Demeter starts pulling her dress off. “You can’t raise the child,” he says. He’s not adverse to laying with Demeter, although at this rate it looks like there will be less laying and more standing against a rough alley wall. But Demeter only knows how to love in a way that crushes all it touches. He won’t let her do that to his child.

“Fine,” she snaps, “Now get moving.”

He’s vaguely terrified the whole time, and it mostly reminds him of his month with Hecate. He’s left alone and naked in the alleyway an hour later.

Nine months later, a baby is delivered to his door by a nervous wood nymph. His daughter still has the squashed appearance of a freshly born baby. “She didn’t waste any time,” he comments, settling her into the crook of his arms. “Does she have a name?”

“Polyhymnia, my lord,” the wood nymph says, then bows before fleeing.

He brings her to the home where all his daughters live.

She grows, and she’s the spitting image of Demeter, of Persephone back when she answered to the name Kore. Her voice is lower than Euterpe’s, but just as pretty and when they sing together it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s quiet, and thoughtful, her big brown eyes watching all around her with a measured stare.

Polyhymnia asks after her mother, something none of the others had done, and Apollo doesn’t know what to say. The truth is too callous, but he can’t bear to lie to her. Instead he begs an audience with Persephone, and says, “Your sister asks after the mother you share. I don’t know what to tell her.”

Persephone has no advice to offer, but she starts spending some of her time outside of the underworld with Polyhymnia. It is enough, and her questions stop, and Apollo tries not to feel guilty that he never really answered them.

~

Cassandra is unlike any woman he’s ever met, unlike any person he’s ever met, and the flames of love and passion burn inside him in a way they haven’t since his Hyacinth died.

She’s bull headed and irritating, and whenever he tries to complain about it Artemis rolls her eyes and his daughters laugh at him. He supposes he’s not doing a very good job hiding that he’s in love with her. Not even from her, because at one point she crossly asks if he’s ever planning to do anything with her, or if she should accept the offer from the butcher’s son.

They don’t leave her house for five days.

She is curious, hungry for knowledge, hungrier for it then she is of him. She wants to know impossible things, wants to be an impossible thing, and so Apollo laughs and takes her hand and says, “I will make you a bargain. I will give you the gift of prophecy, if you will grant me the gift of your hand.”

He’s never take a bride before. He hasn’t wanted to.

Cassandra is screaming and laughing, and she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him until she’s breathless. He takes it as a yes.

That’s when everything goes horribly, incredibly wrong.

It’s too much, all the horror she sees is too much, and Apollo tries to tell her to focus on the good, to see the happiness of the future. But she can’t, gets too caught up in too many wars, and she wastes away in front of his eyes even as her stomach swells.

He tries to take back the gift, tries to save her, but he can’t. It cannot be ungiven, and his headstrong, vivacious lover fades before his eyes. He only manages to alter it, to change it so no one believes the horrible things she cries to prevent the horror people feel when she looks at them and screams the way that they’ll die.

Artemis helps deliver their child, but halfway through her face goes pinched and worried, and Apollo knows that Cassandra won’t make it.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, kissing her gaunt face, feeling the sharpness of her cheekbones under his lips, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t want this to happen.”

She looks at him with glassy eyes, barely reacts when Artemis places their child on her chest. There’s a growing pool of blood under her, but she can’t be saved, she will die, here, now.

Apollo wonders if she saw this coming.

She blinks, and meets his gaze with a sharpness and awareness he hasn’t seen for a long time. “She is your last daughter,” Cassandra says, “Melpomene is the last daughter you will have.”

He kisses her, his last chance to do so.

She’s dead before his lips leaves hers.

Apollo tries to flee, to run from the claws tearing apart his heart, but Artemis doesn’t let him. She yanks him back and pushes Melpomene into his arms. “You can’t leave,” she says harshly, “She needs you. Your daughter needs you. You’re not allowed to run.”

He crumples, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sobs, and her calloused hand grasps the back of his neck. Melpomene is stuck between them, soft and warm and alive.

Time passes.

Melpomene is Thalia’s other half, her best friend, and they do everything together. Her dark hair is a mass of unruly curls just like her mother, her laughter is just like her mother’s.

She, like her sisters, is his pride and his joy.

~

Apollo has nine daughters

Calliope, who reigns over written epics.

Terpsichore, who reigns over dance.

Urania, who reigns over astronomy.

Thalia, who reigns over comedy.

Clio, who reigns over history.

Erato, who reigns over love poetry.

Euterpe, who reigns over song.

Polyhymnia, who reigns over hymns.

Melpomene, who reigns over tragedy.

They are known as the Muses.


gods and monster series, part xxi

read more of the gods and monsters series here

To whoever is lucky enough to be her next,
She’s jealous. Furiously, viciously, desperately jealous. It’ll annoy you, fuck, it’ll annoy you. But don’t get angry, learn to love it. It means she loves you, she cares. She cares so much. She’ll think every girl can see what she sees in you.

She’s scared of the dark sometimes, she has nightmares, bad ones. Hold her. Hold her so tight, stroke her hair, kiss her forehead, and don’t sleep without lingering your arm around her limbs, please don’t let her go.

She has a sense of humour you’ll never find in anybody else. She’s so funny, a dark and honest humour that will make you laugh until your stomach hurts. She’ll love to laugh, make her laugh. She throws her head back and her hair brushes off her shoulders and her eyes light up so bright it’s indescribable, you’ll know what I’m talking about.

She’s insecure, heartbreakingly so. She always has been and she probably always will be. She’ll put the duvet over her body and she’ll turn the other way if you look at her for too long, but she is beautiful. In every light, in every season, at every time of day and in every dimension of the universe, she’s beautiful. Remind her, every day. She’ll blush and shrug it off but she’ll smile when she thinks about it lying in bed that night, and that’s worth the stars in the skies.

Lastly, she doesn’t give second chances. She didn’t give me one. I didn’t deserve one but I’ll never stop wishing I got one. At every opportunity, kiss her in the street, buy her flowers (she loves orchids), dance with her at parties and don’t break her heart. Please don’t break her heart. Because that’ll end up breaking yours twice as bad. You’ll fall asleep to the sound of her closing the door behind her and you’ll never fucking forget it.

Love her, because she’ll love you. She doesn’t do anything in halves, she’ll love you whole heartedly and she’ll do it so very gracefully. Love every single one of her flaws, if you ever manage to find any, love her how she deserves and don’t make my mistake.

Yours truly, I lost her

—  blue-delusion 

[Context: My human monk character recovers a book owned by her missing master from Gnolls and locked herself in her room to read it. After reading the book and succeeding in a constitution save, the knowledge from the book causes psychic damage and I scream so loud my party members hear me.]

Hobbs ( Human Rogue): *knocks* “Are you ok Dorrali, do you need anything?”

Me: *Says nothing and is in pain*

DM (As book): A voice comes from the book. “You probably should answer the  door, he sounds concerned for your well being.“ Walking closer to the book Dorrali can see a face the cover of the book formed from the worn leather giving the appearance of eyes, nose and mouth with the mouth moving as the book speaks to her the cracked leather looking like wrinkles of a wizened old face.

Me: *Is tripping out over the book* "Whatever this thing did to me is tripping me out.”

Book: “You are not "tripping out”, I am speaking to you.

Hobbs OOC: *Hears the unfamiliar voice* I pick the lock.

Me OOC: You know I forbid you from entering my room?

Hobbs OOC: Dorrali will love Hobbs sooner or later? *Rolls 14*

DM: Lock DC was 15

Vicq (Perverted bard Halfling): *Sees Hobbs trying to get into my room* ”Hobbs! you naughty scamp! It seems just like Dorrali to play hard to get, making you toil for your spoils. *Knocks on the door* Dorrali, darling, things are heating up out here between just the two of us, we could really use your, shall we say, supervision?“ 

Me (Sheltered in a monastery for all my life): "What are you talking about?”

Hobbs: “I heard voices and became concerned that Dorrali didn’t answer when I knocked." 

Vicq: "Wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell me that Dorrali has brought someone into the shadow Viper pit, without letting any of us know, against specific orders not to do so?” *At the top of his lungs* "Dorrali…you got som ‘splaining to do!!!“ In an unfamiliar accent as gets a running start to drop-kick the door open.

Vicq: *Nat 20*

DM: The door swings open and you she a red faced Dorrali slouched over in the middle of the floor. Hair clinging to her forehead from sweat and a book clenched in her hand.

Me: *Frazzled by everything that's happening* "CAN’T A GIRL READ AND GET WRECKED BY A BOOK IN PEACE AROUND HERE?!”

Putting Your Little To Bed

-Play with their hair
-rub small circles onto their back
-snuggle up against them
-let them listen to your heart beat
-put clean sheets on the bed
-give them a fuzzy blanket to cover up with
-turn on a fan
-Make sure the only light in the room is a small lamp
-Turn on a diffuser with Lavender in it
-hold their hand
-read them a story
-sing to them
-kiss their forehead
-talk about the stars
-Wish sweet dreams before they fall asleep

I won’t apologize for missing you, or because I said that I am, or because I text you first, or again. Everyone spends too much time trying to build walls instead of doors. I don’t want to be apathetic or indifferent, I want to be honest. It’s both a curse and a blessing to feel everything so deeply, but it’s who I am. I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I want you to find your soft. I’ve seen it before. I’ve seen it in the way you used to hold my hand. In the way you kissed my forehead in between the real kisses and the extra long hugs. In the gentle yet hard goodbyes we said each morning. I never wanted to let go or say goodbye out of fear that I would never be able to find you again. You’re gone now but I’m still knocking on the door. I’ll stop begging for you to let me in as long as you promise me one thing. Find yourself. Be in touch with your heart. Reflect on what happened between us. Think hard about it. Don’t ignore it. Don’t run away from it. Not talking about the contents of a closet will not make it empty. Relationships are important. They’re a big deal. Love is a big deal. It changes you. It teaches you things. I want you to learn a lot from this. I know I did and will continue to do so, and I am glad that it was you who taught me. I hope you can say the same for me.
—  goodbye letters // o.k.
Pasifika culture meets pop culture.

I hate making posts like this one. I feel mean and like I’m being overly aggressive. Denying other people a good time.

But I really feel like I have to say something in this case. So lets talk about the hongi/honi, and fandom culture (particularly shipping culture).

(Image description: Pictured above is a still from James Cameron’s Avatar where two aliens are leaning in to press their noses and foreheads together. Bellow it is a photo of a Maori person and a white person engaging in a Hongi with their foreheads and noses pressed together.)

Said Hongi in New Zealand, and Honi in Hawai’i, the custom of pressing ones forehead and nose to that of another person is a traditional greeting.

It’s used widely in New Zealand in all situations. From formal events at parliament, graduation, a gathering at a marae (meetinghouse). To casual situations like visiting ones uncles, aunties, and couzies. Or welcoming an interviewee on a midday TV show.

A Hongi represents equality, trust, the sharing of ha (breath of life), the sharing of communal responsibilities and duties, belonging, respect, and conveys a welcoming spirit.

It’s considered to be somewhat like a handshake, and often accompanies a handshake.
The one thing it doesn’t imply? Romance between the participants.

Except with the greater visibility of Pasifika culture late last year and early this year (2016-2017), fandoms have been picking up on the Hongi. But the problem is I’m only seeing it depicted in ship art.

This is harmful. It’s appropriating, and divorcing it from it’s true cultural function. And it’s creating some awkward associations for people trying to participate naturally in their cultural customs.
Yes a fan artist might think “It’s just one picture.” But their one picture is one of many that are having the effect of misrepresenting and fetashizing the Hongi for use as ship fuel.

And in fact, this colonization has been in effect longer than one might think. Consider that the Honi is often translated or explained as “The Hawaiian kiss.”

So this is just a request to fan artist, to be careful, and to practice cultural sensitivity.

(Ok to reblog.)

the night shift (m.)

;pairing — hoseok/reader

;summary — working the graveyard shift means you’re exhausted by the time 9am comes around. lucky for you, 9am happens to be your neighbors’ favorite time for obnoxious sex. lucky for them, you’re always up for a challenge. shitty neighbors don’t always have to be a bad thing.

;warnings — language | mild unintentional voyeurism/mentions of exhibitionism | slight instances of jealousy | unprotected sex | oral sex | face-sitting | mentions of masturbation | very mild cumplay | soft dom/sub tones

;word count — 11k

;a/n — this wasn’t the hoseok story i originally wanted to post this week but this idea really excited me. happy hixtape season, everyone!

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Fic: Happy Birthday, Naruto

Word Count: Ion’t know | Genre: Real ass shit | Relationship: M/M | Warning: Unsafe for the eyes of those sensitive to real ass shit

A/N: A gift for Naruto, the birthday boy. SNS. 

— 

Overhead, fluttering under the bright rays of a radiant sun, a carrier pigeon delivered a scroll.

‘Hinata baked a birthday cake for me, but I just wanna get my 10 inch candle deep up in your cakes and fill you with my custard cannon baby. Use Water Release: Fleet no Jutsu before I arrive so I can eat a lil dessert with my present too. 😩💦💦💦👅🍅’

Sasuke rolled his eyes, scoffing at the lowly vulgarity. It wouldn’t be long before Naruto descended on him now. Subtlety didn’t exist in his dictionary.

A rendezvous in the Hokage’s mansion; that plan Naruto concocted when he swept Sasuke off his feet, ignorant of any passive protest, would end in his well-deserved favor. The fourteen missed calls from Hinata, the read receipt attached to the text prying into his whereabouts (Read: 3 hours ago), and the unsigned marriage annulment documents crumpled within Sasuke’s pocket fazed not a nerve-ending in his body. Naruto left all those obstructions to the birds as he hastily stabbed at the touchscreen of his phone, ‘I’m at Sasuke house playing the game like fr my dick gone get skid marks the way you riding it so hard 💀💀💀😂🔥🔥😂🔍🔍🔥😤😴,’ in an evasive maneuver that freed him from the all-too-tight chains of banal concepts such as personal responsibility.

Inhaling that fresh air of freedom, Naruto’s atoms dispersed in a vibrant beacon of light before flashing back together at his destination with his lover in his arms. Agreeable, subdued to no one’s path but one where they could be together, just like Naruto, and the Uchiha’s wife, expected him to be. In Naruto’s case, it was more akin to a demand than a expectation. A demand not expressed with teary eyes, passive threats one was too weak to act upon, and appeals to a romance one felt entitled to, but expressed with the promise of being saved by the threat of fists. The specter of breaking the other’s bones to drag him back home to complete his triad of emotional receptacles: the village, his aspiring monarchy, and a certain Uchiha’s acknowledgement. With a smile on his face and only the purest intentions lacing his heartstrings, Naruto refused to tolerate anything less from his most prized bond.

It elated Naruto to know Sasuke made not just the right choice, but the only choice.

Encased beneath a hurricane crashing in the violent waves of passion, Naruto found solace in nothing short of devouring the decadence of the Uchiha’s body like the sweetest confection. Eliciting sounds from Sasuke that not even his wife was privy to, committing the rich palate of his flesh to his tongue’s memory, and claiming every corner and curve his hands traversed as rightfully his own.

Said hand, an eager one, slid beneath the now disheveled hem of Sasuke’s shirt to trace the attractive grooves that shaped his lower abdomen and advertised a sharp pathway toward what begged for Naruto’s attention.

“M'gonna get in them guts and bust down your walls like the Kyuubi at the Konoha gates,” was the rasp that accompanied Naruto’s hand tugging down those pants, slipping his palm inside Sasuke’s underwear without shame, to reveal…

A glock.

The heater, the burner, he was strapped with that draco.

Naruto froze.

“Happy Birthday, Naruto.”

Sasuke Uchiha, his lover, pistol whipped him in the heat of passion.

“The only walls you’re busting down are the ones to my reparations fund. You don’t want this work.”

Naruto, for once in all of his days…

Couldn’t believe it.

“Wh-”

“You beat me down, begged me to return to this putrid country, and fraternize with the very elders who subjugated my family and ripped them away from me. The vermin who caused my defection in the first place drink tea with you, unsweetened at that. This ‘peace’ you professed to me was nothing but a farce to lure me here, and I won’t hesitate to bust a cap in your dome, your scalp, your cranium.”

Naruto’s eyes widened. Shock washed over his features like a tidal wave.

“B-B-But ya gotta understand the Leaf’s mistakes were-”

“Genocide and tyranny are not mistakes, braindead idiot,” he presses the barrel to Naruto’s forehead.

“Can we talk about this?”

“No. Deliver my reparations in monthly direct deposits or I will never let you snort lines of coke off my ass again.”

Now it was Naruto’s turn to fall silent. He never imagined Sasuke…didn’t need his saving.

“I’m sick of being the neighborhood’s emotional vessel, doling out validation by the demands of my so-called friends. Your parasitic acknowledgement, Sakura’s narcissistic love, Kakashi’s bruised sense of being a failed sensei who, in a brazen show of hypocrisy, disregarded my rightful goal when I was vulnerable and trusted him.”

“Wait-”

“Shut up, usuratonkachi. It would behoove you to know: your dick game’s wack and your stroke is trash.”

Sasuke may or may not have been lying, but today is the day he rescinds that oh so coveted acknowledgement at all costs. Despite that, the color sapped from Naruto’s face at the blow to his strengths. There was no way his dick game was wack…

“You’re going to catch this bullet precisely where you catch my nut every night. In the eye.”

He cocks, the glock, the burner, the draco…

Naruto pauses, takes Sasuke by the wrist, gently.

“Wells Fargo or Bank of Konoha?”

“Neither. I’m with a credit union in the Sound Village. Write the reparations check for it there or I’ll make you spew the flames of Amaterasu straight from your asshole.”

Sasuke didn’t bother with his blabbering, his excuses. He had to pay the elders a visit now. Turning on his heel, he breezes past Naruto and begins to take his grand exit from the country yet again.

“Then…if you planned to leave me. Who were you getting thick for all this time?”

A low chuckle leaves Sasuke and he flashes his smirk over his shoulder.

“The Revolution.”

~ FIN

Cinderella

Summary: After waking up in the morning finding out you had a one night stand with someone you don’t even know…you rush out as quickly as possible…too bad you forgot your cell phone.

Pairing: Jeon Jeong-guk (Jungkook) / Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2k

A/N: extremely Mature rating

Part 2 | Part 3Masterlist

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“Do you ever not watch me sleep?” Dean’s voice is sleep-rough and quiet, though barely piercing the dark solitude of his bedroom. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to feel Cas lying beside him, gaze fixed on Dean’s face.

“No,” Cas whispers, and Dean inhales when he feels fingers trailing his jaw.

“We’ve talked about this.”

“I know. But yet you seem to enjoy it.”

Dean shifts to make himself more comfortable, rolling to face Cas. He finally opens his eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness. When Cas’s face comes into focus, he smiles – sleepy and sated. A smile reserved only for Cas in these quiet moments, away from the chaos of their lives. “I like knowing you’re here with me. Safe. That’s my favorite thing.”

“What is?”

Dean’s hand closes around Cas’s jaw as he shifts forward to press their foreheads together. He breathes in and lets his lips brush Cas’s before he speaks. “You being safe. I can’t think of anything better than that.”

He feels Cas smile. “I love you, too, Dean.”

3

Me Time (Joker x Reader)

“Imagine trying to have some alone time but the Joker doesn’t know the meaning of space.”

Requested by @stimahagen: “Could please make an imagine where the Joker falls in love with the reader and he becomes super clingy? would be so cute”


The morning sun was pushing its way through the heavy curtains that hung against the windows. You groaned, attempting to get out of bed. Tight arms were wrapped around your waist, keeping you there. You couldn’t help but smile, letting yourself settle back down into the mattress. Eventually, his arms loosened from you and he rolled over. You waited for a few minutes then slowly got out of bed.

You tiptoed through the house, seeking out the kitchen. You never missed out on your chance to have alone time. You pulled some stuff out of the fridge and cabinets, placing them on the counter as you started to cook breakfast. You made sure to make a separate plate for the Joker, knowing that he’d probably be hungry when he woke up. Once you were done cooking, you sat down at the table and enjoyed your peaceful meal in solace. You watched the sun peak out from behind the clouds, a soft smile on your face. You picked up your empty plate and brought it to the kitchen. You paused for a moment, thinking that you heard something from upstairs. He should sleep for another hour or so, or at least you hoped.

Keep reading

Boyfriend! Daniel Kang

Okay so I know I’m a hiatus and all but like Daniel Kang is my bby and like I love him so much so here we go

  • you’re Woojin’s older sister and after watching Produce 101 you can say you’re voting for him and Woojin
  • glad that someone there’s to take care of your lil bro
  • a cute someone 
  • you show up to the final show bcus you’re a “loving sister” but really it’s because of Daniel Kang and his hip thrusts
  • remembers the sorry sorry fancam
  • anywho
  • Daniel gets in to the top 11 (he better or else Mnet is gonna catch these hands) and you were probably the loudest lol
  • but your sad af because Woojin didn’t but that’s okay since he’s a little baby that has a lot of time to grow
  • •you meet up with Woojin afterwards and guess who’s with him
  • the one and only DANIEL KANG
  • being he responsible sister you are, you thank Daniel for taking care of your little brother 
  • daniel’s like ‘no problem, he’s like my son’
  • ’…’
  • then you both burst out laughing cus y'all are weirdos
  • you exchange numbers before he has to leave and you could have sworn he winked at you
  • like no
  • leave the winking to Jihoon
  • feeling attacked by his wink
  • he texted you a few days later and you’re just like
  • ‘oh’
  • ‘OH’
  • you guys hit it off and those texts became physically hanging out with him, Woojin and Woojin’s omma Seongwoo
  • sometimes it was only you and Daniel which you wee totally fine with
  • eventually you and Daniel started getting closer and the classic you liked him and he liked you thing happened
  • eventually he asked you out on a date and everything would be fine from there
  • moving on to actual boyfriend!Daniel
  • lots and lots of skinship
  • back hugs for days
  • will squeeze the fuck out of you whenever he can
  • legit you can’t get him off of you
  • like his arms are wrapped around your waist and his chin is resting on your head / shoulder
  • kind of clingy but that’s okay since he’s being cute about it
  • holds your hand 25/8
  • his grip is pretty tight because he doesn’t want to lose you but it’s not too tight since he doesn’t want your fingers to lose circulation
  • doesn’t mind a lot of PDA
  • love it actually
  • you’re his and he’s your’s
  • says the most cheesy and cliche lines ever
  • ‘if you were a booger, I’d pick you first’
  • ‘ew get a life’
  • 'you are my life’
  • 'okay I admit that was kind of smooth’
  • fights over books are normal too
  • 'HARRY POTTER IS BETTER THAN PERCY JACKSON’
  • 'istg Daniel, I will super glue that mouth of yours and force you to watch the Percy Jackson movies while listening to me rant on how horrible they are’
  • 'I love you babe’
  • 'that’s what I thought’
  • he’s really caring tho and will like always be there for you
  • if he notices that you’re having a bad day, he’ll come over with ice cream
  • will climb through your window if he had to but most of the time Woojin just opens the door
  • he’ll just sit on your bed and pull you on him so that you’re sitting on his lap with your chin on his shoulder
  • will wrap an arm around you and the other one will be petting your hair because he knows you like that
  • wouldn’t make you talk about it but you eventually open up anyways because this boy just wants to make you happy
  • you end up eating ice cream and cuddling all day
  • make sure to offer Woojin some too for letting Daniel in
  • taking care of his cat when you visit him
  • he calls you their mother because to be honest you really are that cat’s mother
  • he likes giving you forehead kisses
  • that way he doesn’t have to bend down 
  • he also likes giving you nose boops because he’s cute like that
  • story time!!!
  • includes a “makeout session” but not really since I totally don’t know how to write that shit
  • so you and Daniel were hanging out at your place aka your parents house
  • y’all were cuddling and doing your usually cute thing since he’s just like that and yeah
  • suddenly you get bored and his face is a lot more interesting then the movie
  • you noticed how kissable his lips are because they really are 
  • i’m not the only one right?
  • and he notices that you’re not playing attention so he’s becomes his cheeky self
  • ‘is my face just that handsome?’
  • you’re like 
  • ‘what, no, ew, get away from me’
  • but you’re face is like all red so he knows that you were totally checking him out
  • he laughs and leans in to kiss you
  • you kiss back of course
  • that somehow escalated and now you guys are making out on the couch and his hands are up you’re shirt
  • oops
  • suddenly the front door opens and Seongwoo, Woojin and some produce 101 winners walk in with a cake
  • you probably heard a high pitched scream that belonged to your little brother
  • ‘wow, I know we told you to distract her but this was not what we wanted’
  • and you’re all like ‘wtf is going on’
  • then you realized something
  • ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N’
  • wow you forgot your own birthday
  • nice going y/n
  • so that’s the story of why you and Daniel should never make out in the living room 
  • basically stan Daniel Kang and fight Mnet with me if he doesn’t debut
As Long As You're Okay (Paul Lahote)

My legs couldn’t possibly move any faster but I tried anyway.

I couldn’t remember what I was running from, all I knew was that it struck fear in every vein in my body.

“Paul!” I screamed, pushing up the incline that the forest provided.

“Paul!” I screamed again, tears flowing freely down my face.

I kept running, and running but I knew this entity was gaining on me. I felt its presence along my back, felt it’s heavy breathing on my neck.

“Paul!” I screamed one last time before the entity snaked its hand around my throat.
********
I woke up drenched in sweat. My pajamas sticking to every inch of my body.

“Shit.” I muttered into the empty room.

I grabbed my phone to look at the time.

‘1:22 am.’ I thought.

It was almost time for Paul to get off from patrols and I couldn’t let him see me like this. The man goes out every night looking for vampires for crying out loud, the last thing he needed after yet another long night was coming to see me and me panicking over a nightmare.

I got some fresh clothes and headed to the bathroom to rinse myself from the disgusting amount of sweat the nightmare produced.

When I got out, Paul was climbing through my bedroom window.

“Hey, baby.” he greeted, nearly knocking himself out on the window pane.

“Hey.” I greeted, trying my hardest not to let the terror I just went through show.

“You okay?” he asked, sitting himself at his usual seat along my bedroom wall.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just haven’t been to sleep yet.” I lied, walking over to him.

I was welcomed by open arms and gladly leaped into them, wrapping my arms around his inferno of a torso.

I was just getting comfortable, finding solace in the presence of Paul and the unusual silence he brought with him tonight.

“Y/N, you’re shaking.” he whispered, taking my hand in his.

It was then I realized that I was in fact shaking, and I couldn’t even stop it.

“Y/N, baby, tell me what’s wrong.” he urged, turning to face me, stroking his thumb over my cheek.

“It was just a dumb ass nightmare.” I answered, my voice coming out too hoarse to sound even remotely convincing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, pulling me back into him.

“No.” I answered honestly, burying my face deeper into his chest. My tears starting to drench his shirt.

“Okay. Then, we’ll just sit here.” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“No, Paul, baby you need to sleep. I’ll be fine, it was just a nightmare.” I said, trying to wiggle out from his embrace.

“What I need is for you to be okay. You don’t need worry about me okay, baby? You just let me take care of you. As long as you’re okay? I’ll be perfectly fine.” he said, pressing a gentle yet passionate kiss to my lips.

And that’s the last thing I remember before drifting off into a perfect, dreamless sleep.

Stress and A Bath - Harry Styles Imagine

Originally posted by ohstylesno


Words: 1,955

Pairing: Harry Styles & (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Warnings: Some smut at the end, but nothing too extreme.

Requested: Yes

Requests are OPEN


She heard it, before she saw it. She was cooking in the kitchen, Harry coming in through the door. Instead of the typical start of of conversation, about something that happened in the studio, or a quick, ‘hello, darling.’, there was nothing. She heard him drop his things, like usual, but it was not just a steady drop, it was a thump, and a kick adding towards it. She heard it, before she saw it.

Several seconds, she saw his image come in, bags under his eyes, he was constantly brushing his hair back with his fingers, and squinting his eyes. She took note right away, her husband was stressed. (Y/N) turned the gas stove off, putting a lid upon the stew she made for that rainy day, wiping her hands on her pants, and instantly moving towards her husband.

She leaned against the counter next to him, while he placed his hands on it, leaning towards the black counter, just taking a breather. His wife thought of something to say, not to cause anger, or the cold-shoulder.

“What happened?” She instantly said, starting to rub his back, gently, he moved his shoulder, lightly, in order to brush her off, she moved her hand away, then.

“Nothing.” He grumbled towards her, starting to walk to the staircase. She rolled her eyes at his behaviour, taking off her apron, and placing it on that counter, following him.

“Harry, talk to me.” She said, sternly, eyeing his back, while he started to climb the birch stairs.

“I told you it’s nothing, (Y/N)” That came out harsh, she took a breather, and kept following him, faster now. She turned to the left, knowing he was heading to the bedroom.

Only inches away from him, he brushed the door close, on her face. That was it, she was now angry as well. Opening it to him, taking his clothes off, slowly.

“Harry, I don’t know what happened, but please talk to me.” She said, walking up to him, his back facing her.

She gently placed her hands on his shoulders, watching his skin twitch, him releasing a breath that he never knew he held. (Y/N) moved her hands down his bare back, gently rubbing, and massaging it. Placing her thumb into the skin, kneading it. Arms slid across his stomach over time, placing her body against his back, breathing him in.

“Just a bit stressed, love.” He simply said, she kissed his back a few times, he loosened his shoulders that he held tense.

“How about a bath, I run one for you, with some of those candles we got from our wedding, a few months back. I can come in, if you want or, just let you be.” She said, turning him, pushing his long hair back. His frown turned into a smile, not a full one, but a one that it takes awhile to find. It was hidden.

He looked down at his feet, her hands were still around his waist, he took his hands and placed them on her cheek, slightly moving one thumb.

“That’ll be nice.” He said, she smiled, walking past her half naked husband.

The missus leant down by the sink, opening the cabinets of their bathroom, and taking the candles out. The lavender ones were her favourite, taking it and placing it on the windowsill, the bath in front of it. She placed them there, opening the blinds to view the London street, the streetlamps were on, the rain coming down the window, and the night sky was a faded, but humble blue, from their townhouse window.

She lit them with the lighter, she had stored, and turned the bath on, keeping it to a warm level. The water began to come out, she tested it with her finger, and nodded, plugging the bath. She walked back to the room seeing Harry sitting on their bed, only in his boxers, and just stared at the window to his right, watching the water hit the window.

“Come on now, darling.” She said, walking up to him, taking his hand and leading him to the bathroom.

They stood facing each other, she pulled off her top, leaving her in her bra. The noise of the tap behind them as it poured out the water into the white basin. He looked at her, trying his best to keep eye contact with the eyes that he fell in love with. He watched as she pulled her leggings down, leaving both of them in their undergarments. (Y/N) picked up his hands and placed them behind her, letting him unhook her bra, he did it, watching her breasts come out of the cups. He smiled to himself, the stress slowly, but surely, beginning to go. She knew what she did to him. Her fingertips came in contact with his waistband of his boxers, she placed them down, behind them, her wedding ring grazing his soft skin on his hip. Eventually she pulled them down, and she did the same with hers.

She placed her glasses on the counter, taking her hair up into a bun, and getting into the tub, that was now full. Her back came in contact with the tub, as she put her hand up for her husband to grab on, he sat back to her. She placed her husband’s hair into a bun, loving that he grew it out, and gently massaging his back, kissing his shoulder blades. Harry began leaning back, placing his head on her shoulder, the water coming to his midline. He could feel her breasts against his back, the soft tissue, as she moved her hands to his stomach, gently playing with his tattoos, tracing them with her fingertips, letting him just relax.

“Tell me, tell me what happened.” She simply stated, rubbing his stomach lightly, giving him a small tickle.

“Just the boys, you know them. They love to fool around, talk. It just adds up, and I tell them that I have a wife now, that I can’t stay at the studio till the A.M., I’m expected home by six. But, they just ignore me, and talk about girls and all. I just want to get the work done, we are behind for the next album, because we use the studio time to do this.” He said, releasing his thoughts to her, she simply nodded, kissing his forehead, as he closed his eyes, letting her touch him.

“That’s not fair on you, hun.” She said, taking her arms and placing them, draping them, over his shoulders. He nodded, humming.

“I just want to get the album done, so I can spend more time with you. You’re not just my girlfriend anymore, you’re my wife, you expect more, and I want to give you that.” He said, still laying like that. She just nodded, listening to him speak.

They stayed like that for awhile, her listening to him ramble on about whatever was on his mind, she just listened. The silence arose an hour in, she kissed his temple, him slowly getting up, turning his body to face her.

“Hi.” He said, smiling, she could not help but smile, “Hi.” She said back, looking at his eyes.

He came closer towards her, bringing her in for a kiss, letting him move his mouth around hers, feeling the love coming from her, as he did to her. He pulled away, “I’m going to get out, come with me.” He told her, starting to stand up from the bath, helping her out, drying themselves.

He began doing his nightly routine, as well as her, both naked. She went down to the sink, placing back the candles, and took out the oils she had from their honeymoon, standing up. She walked back into the master seeing Harry standing there, looking at the mirror.

“Babe, come here.” She said, beginning to walk to him. He instantly turned around, seeing she had the oils, a smile came upon his features.

“I love those oils, they bring some memories back.” He said, giving her a smirk, as she pointed to the bed. He sat, naked, while her naked figure sat behind them, her back almost hitting the headboard of the bed. She took the jojoba oil and placed it on his back, gently placing her weight on her knees as she leant into him, placing a kiss behind his ear. He groaned a bit. (Y/N) massaged her strength in his back, taking away some of the knots that lied there. Kissing him every so often, it was when she turned to the bedside table to grab the shea butter, where she was pulled away from it, her back hitting the mattress.

He towered over her, kissing her neck gently, at first, and then began sucking her neck, moving to her jawline. She moaned his name, her hands coming behind him, hitting his lower back, as he placed a hand on her breast, and the other went to her hip, balancing himself out. He eventually placed his lips on hers, making himself the dominate one. She allowed, after all, she caused it, and he had a hard day.

He took over her mouth, fighting for dominance when she opened her mouth, but like always he won, exploring her mouth as his erection grew.

“No teasing, I just want love.” She said to him, as he reached over her to his side of the bed, towards his side table to grab a condom from inside the drawer, ripping it with his mouth as he straddle her, she just watched, trying not to stare at his boner. He slid it on, and went back kissing her.

“Ready, love.” He said, taking his lips off of hers once again, looking in her eyes. She nodded, relaxing her body, allowing him to take over. She felt him slid in, after the six years they have been together, and the few months of marriage, she is still not use to him. Taking a breather from his size, and nodding when to go.

They moved in sync, it was not a fuck, this was pure love making, the pace was slow, but fast, trying to feel everything of the other. She placed her hands on his bare butt, squeezing it once in awhile. He placed his hands above her, their eyes were both close, but sometimes open, kisses were shared, but they just felt it all. But of them groaning and moaning, saying each other’s name, every so often.

He picked up the speed, her noticing the same feeling in her stomach, as she tightened her grip.

“I’m about to come, H.” She said, almost whispering, but it was pure of sweetness, he nodded, her picking up upon the sweat on his forehead.

“Me too.” He grunted, putting his hands on her hips, as she placed one on his hip, and they other on his cheek, gently moaning his name.

Both of them came to their highs, him falling on top of her, placing his head on her breasts, as she rubbed the back of his neck, he was still inside her, but she just loved the feeling of him being so close.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, kissing the side of her breast. She nodded, kissing his head multiple times.

He pulled out taking the condom off of his dick, and throwing it in the trashcan next to the bed, pulling himself into her.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much. I hope you know that.” He told her, bringing himself closer to her.

“I love you too, gorgeous.” She simply said, turning the lamp off next to her, and falling asleep, holding Harry.


Thank you for requesting @anonymous!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Lots of love,

-Ava. Xx

BTS how they initiate sex

as requested, here is how BTS put the moves on you :’)
I wasn’t too sure if this was a preferences or a reaction… so i’m just gonna classify it as both hehe

the following content is for mature minds only ;)

requested by @notmoose23: Can you do a bts reaction on how they would put the moves on you? Like how they would initiate sex for the first time?


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Keith forehead headcanons

(Foreheadcannons, if you will)

  • Keith rarely ties his bangs up but when he does everyone notices and Does something about it
  • Who pokes his forehead: Shiro, Pidge, coran
  • Who kisses his forehead: Lance, hunk, Allura (platonically)
  • He doesn’t pin them back like a normal person he just ties it up in a sprout on the top of his head
  • He looks a little bit like an onion but that’s okay
  • Keith’s. Big. Forehead. Is. Valid.
  • He mostly ties them up while training but sometimes he ties them up when he’s overwhelmed sensory wise and the hair not touching his face helps
  • He also doesn’t like when he sweats and his hair sticks to him bc again bad sensory feel™
  • Pidge is the first one to tell him he looks like an onion and he tells on her to Shiro
  • Shiro laughs at him and they engage in physical combat like the shitty brothers they are
  • keith is convinced that if he lets any member of the team cut his bangs they’ll chop off his mullet because of how much they all talk about it
  • sometimes he’ll pretend he’s been training and keep his bangs up because he knows lance will kiss his forehead because he’s touch starved and gay 
  • lance knows and goes with it anyways
  • pidge and keith eventually bond over being gay and having a big forehead/big eyebrows. True mlm/wlw solidarity.
  • He gets all his hair ties from allura and sometimes you use a glittery gold hair tie to keep your bangs up in a sprout to cope
  • it’s gotten to the point where allura ends up just giving him a bunch because he keeps breaking them and coming to her for more
  • mlm and wlw solidarity is sharing sparkly hair ties
  • when he’s feeling down lance will let him rest his head on his lap and lance will gently pull keiths bangs back and pet his hair till he falls asleep
  • the only person to dare tease him about his big forehead is shiro but shiro has an even bigger forehead lbr
  • I hate myself for getting into this 
For the Best

Originally posted by machomanwrestlinghistory

The shield/OC- After talking with Bayley and riding with the boys, things start to slowly make sense.

Warning: this is a hot mess, spanking, a little daddy kink, a little bi.

(This is my first story is a super long time so y’all please let me know how you like it. Also writing this many people is a nightmare.ALSO I cant make titles for the life of me so ignore this shitty title.)


As the cool wind hit me I let out a faint sigh. A small shiver ran up my body as I rubbed my arms, trying to make the goose bumps go away. I was waiting in the garage of the arena waiting for my ride because Bayley bailed out on me again.


“I’m so sorry. Sasha just asked me to ride with her because she doesn’t want to be alone.” Bayley looked at me with a sad face but soon smirked at me, “You know the boys would probably take you and besides you guys are like best friends…even more?” Bayley nudge my arm at the last part, making me roll my eyes at her.

“Bayley I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. There is nothing going on between the Shield and me. We are just really good friends.” I looked with disbelief at Bayley as she started chuckling at my statement.

“Sure sure whatever you say, but maybe not say that to Dean.” Bayley said as she walked away towards the garage.


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