AND THEN WORLD CRUMBLES AROUND HER

Something I’ll never get tired of is how Deeks’ entire demeanor changes when Kensi appears, he can snark off to whiting so much but suddenly there’s Kensi and there’s that soft little “hey” and that touch of a smile because he’s so gentle and GOOD to her. He’s playing with Callen at the Christmas party but the suddenly his head is being squashed against her neck and he’s whispering that tender little question to her because God their world could and has crumbled down around them but nothing is going to stop him from loving the hell out of her and treating her like a goddess and the voice he uses when they snuggled up in bed and when he’s locked behind bars is the same one because nothing is going change how much he loves her 

OK but I would physically combust if Bellarke reunited later on this season guYS?????

Like the world is crumbling around them, and instead of Clarke running and practically jumping into Bellamys arms like in s2, it would be Bellamy running full force and grabbing Clarke into his arms and hugging the shit out of her.

And they’re so real in this moment, feelings bared and Bellamy let’s go of Clarke but cups her face in his hands and says, “I thought I’d never see you again” and Clarke replies, “I knew you would.”

And they kiss.

I would also physically combust if someone wrote a fic around this 🙃

I like to imagine

that during that scene in DHp1 when Hermione and Harry dance as friends trying to make each other smile to the song on the radio, elsewhere others are doing the same

Bill pulls Fleur away from the kitchen sink, swinging her into his arms and ignoring her protests about her wet hands

Remus pulls Tonks off the couch, hugging her close(as close as he can, anyway) and just enjoying the music in each other’s arms, with his arms wrapped tightly around her, her small baby bump pressing against him

Arthur approaches Molly, who is knitting quietly, trying to ignore their world crumbling around them, and dances with her as if they were both 18 again

And for the duration of that song, the war ravaged couples get time to be just that- couples, trying to make their way to a better future.

Swan (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

A/N: Okay, so I literally spent weeks writing this imagine and I almost cried when I finished it so I really hope you’ll enjoy. Hope you like how this turned out in the end XD 

P/S: Of course there’ll be a second part, the Astronomy Tower thing hasn’t happened yet.


If anyone was going to keep claiming that destruction is building around people little by little, like unseen shadows and unheard whispers, (Y/N) would safely contradict their strong beliefs with all the venom she could gather. It was all bullshit.

Utter bullshit.

And (Y/N) had to learn this the hard way.

When her world crumbled into tiny pieces, drowning her into impossible hopes and painful thoughts, which were once her everything, only to become her nothing. When her books scattered to the ground, her grip loosening and then giving away completely, her arms hanging loosely on either side of her body. Her mouth was slightly agape and her mind seemed a blur. But as she caught his familiar frame, her blood quickly boiled away the confusion in her veins.

She felt rage lurking through her body. The sight of his venomous smirk and pale, snowy features made her chest compress.

“Malfoy” she spat the words furiously, like they burned her tongue.

His lids lowered over his eyes, until they were only two slices of hidden ice. His lip curled up into a poisoned smile as he took her in.

“(Y/L/N)” he snapped, his lips moving with a repulsive twitch.

Dumbledore has officially gone mad.

She growled. The sight of his smirk was going to be forever burned on her retina, never leaving her memory. The dreadful words adressing her and her friends, which passed his lips with such ease, were going to haunt her forever, echo around the walls of her mind.

Her hand instinctively reached up towards her neck, where a necklace Harry gave her was hanging, and touched it lightly with the tips of her fingers. She felt like all her sanity was hanging from it as well at the very moment.

She didn’t miss the contradictory glint in his eyes at her action.

“So you’re still Potter’s bitch, I see” he growled lowly, curling his lip.

“You son of a-”

“Is Potter here too, hiding behind your back or something? Or do you have tosser repellent somewhere between those books?”

(Y/N) locked her jaw and chewed on her tongue with growing fury. She only stopped when she felt a salty taste, somewhere, in one corner of her mouth. But she remained still, watching him with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth, still avoiding to stare directly into his icy eyes for self-control measures. He gazed back for a while, before he adverted his gaze, something from outside the window seeming to catch his attention.

He remained almost unchanged. The same blonde hair, the same snowy features and stormy, hidden eyes. Although he did seem more tired. The deep circles under his eyes and permanent frown he wore darkened his features. He seemed to be paler too, his skin shining like a paper sheet in the ghostly light. Good. She was glad he was suffering. Glad he received what he deserved.

And still… He managed to keep an air of beauty in all he did. The bastard…  

But all the terrible things he did, all the terrible things he said and thought… All the terrible things he is going to do. They haunted (Y/N)’s mind like the ghosts of the dead, screaming memories which should be forgotten, or murmuring things she’d like to remember.

No, she blamed it all on illogical thinking which led to a moment of pure insanity. That’s all…

“You are a joke of a human being” she murmured soberly after a few solid minutes of tensed silence.

His eyes snapped back to her, sour and with a dangerous flash.

“What-”

But then (Y/N) caught his frozen gaze and felt something in her soul snap. Her eyes widened, darkening a fraction, all of her heavy feelings flowing up to the surface and dancing around her (Y/E/C) irises.

“You have nothing. You are nothing. No friends, no achievements… I bet no family too. They’re probably keeping you alive for your precious Dark Lord’s purposes”

Venom was filling her voice, and she found it intoxicating. His expression suddenly changed, dangerous thunders dancing across his features at the mention of his family. His mouth curved into a cold sneer.

“What does it feel like?” (Y/N) asked lowly, furrowing her brows. “How does it feel like to know you are worthless for this world?”

“What the fuck do you mean, Mudblood?” his voice was shaky, filled with untamed rage, as he spat the words at her, disgusted.

“Don’t you get it? You can’t do anything good-”

“Fuck off-”

“You can’t even be a proper Death Eater, pissing Voldemort off until he’d torture you. Your constant failure to do anything worthwhile has destroyed any expectations or confidence anyone had in you”

She felt like mirroring the sinister sneer on his lips as she saw his cocky façade flinch at her words.

Failure.

His jaw locked and his stare fell on his lap. He seemed to chew on his tongue for a while, as the need to challenge the witch felt rich in his throat, tickling his tonsils and urging him to ball his fist until all the blood drained from his knuckles. He gritted his teeth until he could literally hear them screech, but refused to release the tension in his jaw.

It felt degrading.

How she knew those painful things. Those fucking truths. It hurt his very core. To acknowledge the fact that he didn’t do one bloody thing the right way. No matter which side he tried to please, he’d fail miserably.

The same went for Voldemort. The fucker probably wanted his head on a golden plate considering how the summer went by at the Malfoy Manor.

It has been a shit day for Draco. A shit month. A shit year.

“I didn’t have a choice” he muttered scratchily, unable to stop the words from passing his lips.    

(Y/N)’s head snapped towards him so quickly, she thought she heard the bones crack and snap. If she hadn’t been so close to him, she probably wouldn’t have heard his accidental confession. For a moment, she wondered if he even addressed her, seeming like he was completely oblivious to the world.

Her eyebrows twitched as she regarded him with narrowed eyes. He was staring blankly at the wooden bench before him, the subtle movements of the train making his body rock back and forth gently. His lids felt heavy and the sound of the wind blowing made his powerful heartbeat rise up to his ears and temples.

With a moment of hesitation, (Y/N) slowly entered the compartment and approached the wooden bench with wary steps. She sat down gently and bowed her head to peer at Draco’s face. Her eyebrow arched at the sight of his half closed eyes. His breath was deeper, harsher, she observed, and the rise and falls of his chest became regular. Then, her stare hopelessly fell on his parted lips.

She quickly scolded herself for her too lingering gaze and reached a book she brought with her, opening at the first page and inhaling the satisfactory smell of old books. Her lungs filled with an intoxicating smell and her lips parted, mumbled, rhythmic words tumbling from her mouth and filling the room drowned in honey light, the final rays of sun slicing through the glass and dancing across their features.

“You have no choice either, Head Girl… You’re stuck with me.” he breathed, making her close her eyes with a flutter and a soft sigh.

She leaned her forehead against the cold, foggy window, gulping down the tight lump in her throat.

Draco’s lids finally fluttered shut as he let himself fall into the unknown depths of unconsciousness, forbidden dreams blurring his mind and sweet feminine murmurs echoing as a lullaby at the back of his head.  


Shrilling sounds pierced through (Y/N)’s brain. Still in a blissful state, she rolled on her side, trying to hide behind her peaceful dreams again and tucked her head under a pillow, hoping that would block reality from her sleeping form. But as more sounds tiptoed their way into her room, she finally let go of the drowsy feeling which was engulfing her only few moments ago.

She lifted a heavy lid, pure darkness blocking her view. The next bang sliced at her sleepy ears with a grating echo, causing a soft groan to escape her slightly swollen lips.

Then, as more crashing sounds pierced her ears, her eyes snapped open and went wide, while she sucked in a harsh gasp. Her palms went to cover her livid face. Blinking away the last remains of her sleep, she gulped back her dry throat.

Three weeks. Three fucking weeks and she already felt like dying.

When she lowered her hands and tilted her head, a scowl was plastered on her face. With a grit of her teeth, she threw her legs over the edge of the bed and pushed herself from between the covers. When her sock covered feet stopped in front of the door and her fingers curled around the doorknob, she took in a calming breath and opened the door with an expressionless face.

As her eyes darted around the dark hallway, a loud crashing sound escaped from his room. Her body cringed immediately, the straight face she’d put on faltering and her jaw locking. She approached his room, eyeing his door with narrowed eyes.

Grasping the door handle between her fingers, a shiver trailed down her spine. She was about to enter an unknown territory, a dark world, which she avoided with much wariness. His territory. Until now. She yanked the door open with a small breath and peered inside the room.

(Y/N) gasped at the mess in front of her.  

The furniture in his room was completely shattered, dented beyond recognition. The window was broken and the bedding was ripped, like some kind of animal leashed from deep within him, its claws digging into the sheets like they would do with flesh. Pieces of shattered glass and wood shards were decorating the floor. The single flower he ever had in his room was then lying at his feet like a dying swan, its white petals withered, lifeless.

He was standing in the middle of the floor, with his palms against his face, slumped into a defeated position. He was muttering between ragged breaths, his lip curling every time a word would leave his mouth.

(Y/N)’s wild stare scanned the wreckage with confusion, before her eyes were drawn to Draco, in the centre of the room. She felt a glitch in her chest and she rushed to his side, sinking to her knees and grabbing his shoulder gently with a hand, the other going up to his face.

“Draco” she whispered close to his face, feeling all of her previous anger drain “Draco, what’s wrong?”

The snowy boy slowly tilted his head towards her, his unfocused and absent eyes flashing with a hint of recognition and life. She sighed in relief, lightly stroking his pale cheek with her thumb.

“Draco, look at me” she pleaded, slightly pushing his chin up “What happened?”

His half lidded eyes slowly travelled across her features and wandered on her gaze.

“I don’t know” he whispered, his lips barely parting.

(Y/N)’s brows knitted together in a deep frown. His voice sounded awfully absent.

“Draco” she repeated quietly, bowing her head a little to gaze into his stormy eyes “Tell me why you trashed your room”

“How long have we been here, (Y/L/N)?”

Her eyebrows twitched, but she quickly added up the dates in her mind.

“No more than a few weeks. Three, I think” she offered, watching him close his eyes and sigh.

“It feels longer”

She narrowed her eyes slightly at his remark, but nevertheless grabbed her wand.

“I’m going to… fix your room, okay? Just… don’t move”

With a quick flick of her wand, all of the broken shards came back together. He didn’t even flinch. Lowering her wand, (Y/N) peered at Draco again.

The ease her concern came with when seeing him in his lonely heap on the floor frightened her. But at the same time, the distant look in his orbs made her chest ache.

She didn’t really remember when she started to, but she cared for him, although it was a poisonous feeling to share. And even if it hurt her pride to acknowledge it, she didn’t despise him anymore. Almost all of her negative feelings toward the contradictious blonde seemed to dissolve over the past few weeks in which they were forced to live together.

A sigh escaped her lips as she watched him gaze off into the distance.

Merlin forgive me…

She shifted from her position slightly so that she was now facing him. Placing her leg between his, she leaned in and rested her head onto his shoulder, her arms taking a hold of his neck. In the first few seconds, she feared he might reject her, or feel the anxious beats of her heart, but his body soon relaxed, his arms snaking around her waist. She let out a relived breath, before closing her eyes.

They stood like that for what seemed like hours, in each other’s arms, neither of them wanting to break the silence.

With his arms around her and with his warmth engulfing her, (Y/N) seemed to figure more than one thing out.

He wasn’t that insufferable prick she’d known for so many years. At least not all the time. At least not anymore. Something was changing him. Maybe the war. Maybe something else. But he began making his own choices and judgements. He began thinking for himself and, after all those days with hot headed arguments and venomous words, he finally seemed to step over some of his prejudices. He had begun to see past his pride and all that pure blood bullshit.

An almost smile crept across her lips.

She was changing too.

She wasn’t seeing him just as a Death Eater anymore. He wasn’t like them. Cruel, brain washed… evil. No. He was not evil. He has been misled. Because he had his own thoughts and opinions. They were just denied by everyone in his family, replaced with some ridiculous bollocks.

Death Eaters were inhuman, almost.  

Draco was certainly human, despite his every attempt to erase his feelings. The ice in his soul finally began to melt.

She, herself, began melting. At the sight of him. At the thought of him. Because of him.

The bastard…

If she’d had any doubts before, the deep, natural concern she felt for his strange behaviour washed them all.

And she found it worrisome. He was still unpredictable.

This arrangement seemed to fuck with her brain even further.  

Because she didn’t care anymore. About the terrible things he’d done, or said. Or about his rejections and icy behaviour towards her. Or about his conflicted thoughts. About him being a Slytherin, or about his inked forearm. She was going to help him.

Because she didn’t fucking care anymore.

“Tomorrow is going to be different…” he murmured in a scratchy voice, breaking the silence. “Like usual”

“I know, Draco” (Y/N) answered after a slight pause. “I know”

That night, she became another person…


(Y/N) yawned, her free hand moving up to rub her tired eyes. The old pieces of parchment laid scattered in front of her, while numerous books occupied the space on her desk. This War was eating her whole and draining the last drop of energy she had. Well, whatever remained at the end of her “Draco spent” day.

And the worst thing was, no matter how hard she tried to eradicate him from her thoughts, she just couldn’t. Be it in stubborn flashbacks of their… soft moments spent together or just in general musings about his behaviour and words, he just won’t bloody leave her mind.

But then again, did she really want him to leave her head?

She sighed, smoothening her (Y/H/C) curls with a quick move of her hand.

She wasn’t sure anymore. Everything seemed a blur. All she wanted, at the moment, was to change his mind. To make him realise that she was a person, despite her blood. That the damned blood did not matter.

And he seemed to change his reflection on things. She could see it. He was still battling with his prejudices, but he was slowly starting to acknowledge that they were all the same, in a way or another: mudbloods, purebloods, half-bloods or squibs. That your blood status should not determine the way you’re supposed to live your life.

She just… she just wanted him to view them differently. To view her differently.

Shit. This was not healthy thinking at all.

But she was almost certain that he was starting to doubt her blood status issues.

Or at least she hoped he was.

She shook her head, trying to cast away the confusing thoughts which were lurking inside her already messed up brain. She blinked a few times just to prove her point and focused her gaze on the scribbled page before her eyes.

I need to concentrate… “A Horcrux is an object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul for the purpose of attaining immortality-”

(Y/N) stopped herself short. She has already read that sentence three times now.

Bugger.

She groaned in annoyance, banging her head against the desk. She really started to wonder if this arrangement Dumbledore settled for them was appropriate… or healthy, if anything.

Probably not.

A shiver chased up her spine and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing at her cold skin. She lunged for her bed, grabbing a soft blanket and lightly placed it across her shoulders, tugging at it and its warmth.

Then, a dangerous thought crossed her mind.

What if he’s cold?

She found herself worrying about him, when really she shouldn’t. She was starting to question if these unexplained emotions were coming from selfish reasons. It would have been the best alternative.

Shame it wasn’t true one indeed.

(Y/N) predictably chewed on her lip, while debating what the bloody hell she should do.

“Godric forgive me for what the hell I’m doing” she murmured to herself, while she lightly creeped out of her room and tiptoed across the hallway.

With at least three minutes of hesitation outside his door, she swallowed back the bitter lump in her throat and angled her wand in its direction.

“Alohomora”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but grimace as the door cracked open, revealing his dark room.

Good grief, what am I even doing here?

She pushed a little more magic into her dim Lumos charm, just enough to discern blurry shapes and outlines. She peered inside the room and took a few tentative steps inside. Her gaze eventually fell onto the limp heap from the bed. She stretched her arm a little bit more, pointing her wand towards him. The light shimmered on his white skin, giving life to moonlight reflections across his face and urging her to bite her lip nervously.

Draco was having a nightmare and the terrible whimpers that stumbled from his lips made the muscles in (Y/N)’s body tense. Staring a little bit further, she caught the light from her wand shining in silvery droplets against his forehead. One isolated droplet smoothly travelled across the skin of his temple and jaw, coming to rest onto his lips. (Y/N) followed its path with petrified eyes and parted lips, her stare catching every roll and slide.

(Y/N) had to clasp her hand against her mouth to muffle the loud gasp that slipped past her lips. Her eyes widened a fraction as reality seemed to crawl its way back in, bringing painful realisations in her mind.

She couldn’t.    

Frowning in disbelief, she continued towards his bed warily.

He was trashing and squirming, mumbling shaky words from time to time. His face was covered in a layer of sweat, which was streaming down his forehead. (Y/N) watched helplessly as his dreams melted into a cold river and poured away from his head, only to enter his subconscious again, with a blurry fraction of this reality.

She sank to her knees beside his bed and slowly removed the thick blanket from her shoulders. Edging anxiously close, she peppered it over his body, accidentally brushing her hand against the frosty skin of his shoulder. Her muscles froze when he flinched at her touch and a mumble passed his dry lips.

“I have to do this. I have to kill you… Or he’s going to kill me…”  

Bringing a shaky hand to her mouth, her eyes darted up to his face, which was contorted with anguish. He seemed in pain, like he was tortured by the images that tumbled inside his head. (Y/N) didn’t know if it was cruel, but she could only find it fascinating.

“Draco” she whispered, softly touching his arm “Draco wake up”

He whined, cranking his neck to the side with a sudden move.

“Shhh” she lulled, resting her palms on both of his cheeks “It’s me, Draco. It’s okay… Wake up”

His tensed muscles immediately relaxed and his throaty growls slowly faded. (Y/N) let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“It’s okay, Draco. It’s okay… Wake up, wake up”

With her final murmur, smoky eyes flew open, his wild stare still unfocused. He stood up abruptly and grabbed both of her wrists, sending her body forward with a tug. Their chests collided, urging his laboured breath to hitch in his throat for a moment and sending an electric jolt throughout their bodies.

(Y/N) sank her teeth into her bottom lip and bit hard, enough to prevent any words from passing her lips. They were close. Dangerously so. And it made her chest burn.

His wild eyes travelled all over her face and she felt her features melt under his penetrating gaze. She stared right back at him, unable to tear her eyes away. She found herself mesmerized by the unknown feelings which swirled in the back of his stormy orbs.

Then, she blinked. And that seemed to urge time into flowing again.

“(Y/L/N)” he mumbled, snapping her out of her trance.

His eyes lowered a bit.

“What are you doing here?”

Y/N swallowed back her nerves and parted her lips, but no answer came out. Letting out a few shaky breaths, she finally let the words dart around the room.

“I- I thought you were cold… so I- I just… brought you a blanket”

His features barely softened, as his brow lowered.

“I’m sorry… I- I know I shouldn’t have entered your room but- but you had a nightmare and I just… You seemed tortured, so I woke you up…” she stuttered, lowering her gaze and turning her head away.

She hoped she’d escape from his penetrating eyes, but she still felt his stare at the back of her head. Her chest constricted with uneasiness and she shifted uncomfortably. Suddenly aware of their close proximity, she tried to put a little bit of space between their bodies, but Draco’s strong arm curled around her waist, keeping her in place. The frosty grip of his fingers coiled around her chin, tilting her head so they made eye contact again.

“Why?”

Her eyebrows twitched, mirroring his frown. Now that she thought about it… she hadn’t really had a reason to come. She just… felt like it. She was mentally punching herself for the shitty answer which came to her mind. The cold was just a pretext honestly. And now she felt rather pathetic. No, she was rather pathetic. She did not remember when her dangerous feelings for him bloomed inside her heart, flowers and petals opening every second she spent with him, thinking about him, seeing him…

Good God…

That was going to be the death of her.

“I- I told you already… I thought you were cold-”

But his figure remained doubtful while he cranked his neck to loom over her. (Y/N) barely had the time to release a surprised yelp as he brought his face close to hers and gripped her middle tighter, trapping her in his hold.

“Well I don’t buy it” he coldly remarked.

(Y/N) stifled a sigh of defeat. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek nervously.

“Besides…” she continued softly “I- I wanted to come”

She didn’t miss the shock which clouded his cold stare. As a result of her words, his stormy eyes softened, the icy gaze melting into liquid silver. Her heartbeat accelerated as she realised how close their faces were. His curious eyes peered into her (Y/E/C) orbs, searching for something she couldn’t make out. Without any hint of hesitation, she opened her mind, and soul, and heart to him. She wouldn’t have been able to resist in front of him anyway. She let him see the sincerity of her words, praying to unknown forces that his eyes saw right through her nervousness.

He slowly moved his stare from her orbs, his new interest consisting in her lips, which she was biting anxiously. His gaze flickered between her lips and eyes, before he swiftly sliced the final inches between them, his mouth catching hers.

The contact sent a pulse throughout her body. While her response came as timid, there was no hesitation from his part. There was passion between their mouths, but supressing that, there was desperation. Desperation was filling the room and the air, intoxicating and suffocating the both of them.

Twenty beats of her heart and the kiss was over. But his face remained over hers. He dropped his forehead against hers, keeping their lips close. His hot breath stroked her cheeks and his fingers rubbed absent patterns across her back. Suddenly, she felt very tired. Her lids lowered, so her eyes were thin and almost hidden. Her whole body felt heavy. Too heavy. She propped herself against him, slumping her shoulders and hoping he’d hold her weight.

“Draco…” she whispered, sealing her eyes and slightly moving her forehead against his.

If he hadn’t been so close to her face, he wouldn’t have heard the sleep slurred mumble that crossed her lips. Draco shifted, so she was now resting in his arms, her head fallen on his shoulder. She looked tipsy with exhaustion, her body completely limp against his. Not even a flinch.

Not that he minded. She was light as a feather, her weight almost insignificant to him. Which made him wonder… Has she been eating anything consistent recently? Probably not. She was always locked up in her room, doing Merlin knows what for those fucktards she kept around. And he didn’t like that. Not one bit. She paled a lot recently, dark bags appeared under her eyes and her presence became ghostly, faded. Although her eyes seemed to hold the same fire of determination as always. Haven’t Potter or Weasley acknowledged what was happening to her?

No, of course not.

Those morons she called friends were utterly oblivious to her exhaustion and concern, which were eating her alive. A little bit more help required from Potter and she’ll be out of it in no time.

The simple thought made him bare his teeth.

The sleep slurred mumble which tumbled from her lips caught his attention and snapped him out of his deep debates. He stretched his neck a little bit to have a better look at her sleeping form. His eyes wandered over her face, chest, arms, torso, legs, analysing every patch of skin which came into his view, desperately looking for a single flaw on her seemingly perfect body. But it was meaningless. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find one thing to despise about her. Whether he searched her body, or roamed through her mind. She certainly was a person. A person with deep feelings, thoughts and emotions. His eyes remained fixed on her delicate face. Her skin shone with an unreal glow in the pale, cold light of the moon rays which sliced the glass of his window. The shadows of a few tiny freckles were scattered across the bridge of her nose. Her (Y/E/C) flames were hidden behind her lids and long eyelashes, her (Y/H/C) mess of curls cascading down her face and shoulders, covering her cheeks. Following the tip of one curl, his gaze naturally fell onto her petal tinted lips. All of her was beautiful, all of her was pure. He almost felt the urge to lift the corners of his lips.

Almost.

But he knew that all pure, innocent things in life died, withered as soon as times of turbulence came. His heart clenched painfully with deep worry for the unconscious girl in his arms.

She tries to see the good in everyone. Even in me.

Whether that was her strongest quality, or her fatal flaw, he couldn’t decide.

He slowly lowered himself back onto the bed, placing themselves between the sheets which were certainly going to smell like her in the morning.

Fuck…

Draco continued to stare at her. He was afraid that if he’d move, she was going to blend with the air and he’d open his eyes, drenched in a cold sweat and surrounded only by his ragged breath, to find out it was only a dream. He wanted it to be real.

It was real…

Wasn’t it?

Shit, she was fucking with his brain even when she was sleeping.

A sudden twitch of her body made him freeze. He regarded her with wide eyes, as she reached for him and buried her face into his shoulder. He slowly focused his eyes onto her face.

“Draco…”

The murmur of his name tingled the frosty skin of his neck and sent a shiver down his spine. He closed his eyes and held his breath. For a moment, he was afraid the wild beats of his heart were going to wake her up. Slowly releasing the compressed air from his lungs, he stole one last glance at her. Lying like that next to him, she remembered him painfully much of a swan. He used to love the birds. Now it seemed he loved swans with alluring voices and (Y/E/C) orbs just as well.

Sweet Salzar, he was damned.

Deciding to step over his pride, he swallowed back the contradictory thoughts which threatened to burst out of his chest and head, gently snaking his arm around her middle and resting his palm onto her back, rubbing absent patterns against her skin and bringing her body closer to his, suddenly carving her body warmth. Letting his head rest lightly on top of hers, his lids finally fluttered shut.

That night, he became another person…

Even though he knew. All of this was going to change upcoming morning. Because this was only temporary.

The calm between storms.

Mute. Part 5.

Please continue the story where Claire is deaf!
@justgingernotirish

You can find the other instalments: HERE.



The nightmare had been so intense, she’d shaken, cried out –albeit silently– and clung to the damp bedsheets as the bombs had, seemingly, dropped around her. 

Jamie, snoozing in the corner of the half empty barn, had noticed her struggle as she’d kicked out and knocked over a small basin left too close to her palet. The loud clatter had forced him awake and he’d immediately dashed over to comfort her.

Claire thrashed, her limbs flailing and then clenching tight as she’d tried to run for cover, lost deep between the falling debris as walls collapsing around her.

Metal flew through the air.

Sirens wailed all around her.

Then, as if by magic, nothing.

The ground still rattled beneath her feet, and the world still crumbled around her. But she could no longer hear anything.

*“Hush, mo nighean donn, yer safe. Shh, please, Claire. It’s me, it’s Jamie. I’m here.”*

A deep Scots burr cut through the deadly quiet.

A beacon in the dark.

She clung to it, desperate to find the person to whom the voice belonged before it was cruelly stolen from her once more. 

In her panic, she gripped his shirt, so tight that her fingers had gone white at the knuckles. Her lips searched for his, she needed his touch. 

Jamie, as if sensing this, leaned forward. She still hadn’t opened her eyes and he was unsure of her level of consciousness. But he already felt a deep connection with her, and he’d do absolutely anything to soothe her.

The moment they met, her mouth finally colliding with his, she pulled him deep under the covers, their limbs entwining and becoming one in almost no time at all.

She was frenzied, desperate for the contact, desperate for *him*.

*‘Jamie’* she mouthed, wriggling her hips against his as she tugged at his (already half askew) kilt, pawing at him as if she couldn’t get enough.

There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.

He could barely breathe as she sucked and nibbled at him, his lips sore as her tongue tasted every inch of his mouth.

Her shift had slipped from her shoulder, exposing half of her top half, the bottom having ridden up in the furore.

He should stop this.

He shouldn’t allow her roaming hands.

He shouldn’t --he thought absently as she finally pulled the material of his kilt aside-- thrust his aching cock against her bare crotch.

She wasn’t in her right mind. She was half-crazed, pulled under by the grips of an intense nightmare. If he took her now, like this, he’d be no better than the barbarians who’d robbed her in the forest before their first meeting.

All of these things ran through his mind at once, in a matter of seconds, but it was all to no avail.

In her panic she’d achieved a physical strength he hadn’t thought possible.

She had him where she needed him, and it was almost impossible for him to resist.

“Claire,” he whispered, “Claire, it’s alright, ye…Ah Dhia!…” he gasped, well aware that she couldn’t hear him. She certainly wasn’t looking at him to read his lips.

Running her hand along the newly exposed length of him, she shifted her hips downwards, readying herself underneath him. Opening her eyes, finally, Claire looked straight at Jamie, pure passion embedded deep beyond her firm blue iris’.

He was done for.

He shifted his hands to rest on either side of her head and rocked his hips, gently, against hers. The warmth of her surrounded him almost instantly as he joined with her.

Any worry that she didn’t want this, really, that she wasn’t ready –that *he* wasn’t ready–, dissipated like dust on a summer breeze as he sank deeper and deeper inside her.

They melted, together.

She basked in the dead silence that surrounded them, sensing every wisp of sound that left Jamie’s lips as he began to move above her. Remembering the steady grunts men expelled during sex. Claire envisioned Jamie and how his voice might resonate and echo through her ears, should she be able to hear him. That thought alone sent shockwaves of desire through her.

Memories of the intonation of the voice in her dream came back to her as she clenched her thighs tightly around his hips.

He felt Claire’s hands grope for his arse as he pulsed his pelvis against hers, the damp sound of their intimacy reverberating around them.

He felt her small nails dig into his heated flesh as she rose to meet his every thrust.  

Picking up his pace, Jamie moved faster, spurred on by her writhing below him. Her breasts rose up to brush across his, now, half bared chest. He hadn’t recalled her tearing at his shirt, but she must have done for the laces lay open and the slight 'V’ at the neck had been ripped a little.

Her lips found his neck as she shuddered and arched her back. The salty sweetness of his sweat coated her mouth as she lapped each drop up, along and under his chin and back up to his lips.

Reaching up, she slipped her hand under his tense one, tickling him a little as she allowed their fingers to intertwine.

’*Don’t stop…*’ she said with a sly jerk of her hips.

He felt the hairs on his thighs prickle as the telltale throb began in his balls, the heat of her soaking through every inch of him as he moved against her over –and over.

Claire knew he was close when his movements became erratic, his arms shaking with the effort of holding him up. Biting, gently, against the soft skin of his lower lip, she closed her legs around him, trapping him.

One roll of her bottom.

And then another, her feet wrapped around his calves kept him a lost flush with her. Just enough room, she’d calculated, to have him at her mercy, to make him see stars behind his eyes as he came to her.

She heard the faint murmurings of his pleasure as his chest vibrated against hers. His fingers gripping tight at her own as he bucked and stilled.



They lay panting, him still inside her, as they finally came back to earth.

Nuzzling her nose against his, Claire lifted her hips a little, coaxing him to the side before wrapping the blankets around him and allowing her leg to drape over his hip.

Half-conscious, Jamie allowed her to cocoon him up as he gazed upon her with a sort of hazy wonder.

She was a beautiful angel, he mused, a blast of light in his wee simple world.



She watched him sleep for hours, running her fingers, softly, through his soaking curls as he settled into his dreams.

Licking her lips unconsciously, she allowed her eyes to close briefly.

If there were a time to be able to talk, she thought with a sort of wistful sadness, this would be it.



Jamie shot up only a few hours later, his subconscious telling him something was amiss.

“Ifrinn!” He muttered, feeling Claire’s supple form at his side. He was still coated in her, the tang of their activities covering his skin, the musky scent of their mingled sweat filling his nose as he shook himself off.

As carefully as he was able, he slipped from her bed and righted his ruffled clothes.

How had he let that happen?

Had she done it before?


If she hadn’t, he’d just taken her maidenhead!

All of these thoughts and more rushed through his head as he paced the length of the silent stables, wanting to leave but not wanting to simply steal away like a thief in the night.

She didn’t deserve to wake up alone, not after that.

Unable to relax, Jamie started clearing away trinkets and bottles that she had scattered around her wee stall.

Anything he could get his hands on.

Anything to keep busy.



He’d tired himself by sunrise, and had perched on the ledge by the small window, scrunching himself onto the tiny shelf as he watched the sun appear through the rippled glass pane.

So lost in thought, was he, that he didn’t notice Claire rise and walk towards him.

He was beautiful, she thought, with the deep orange of the dawn glowing behind him, setting his hair aflame.

Reaching out, Claire ran a lone finger along the expanse of his upper arm, the fabric of his shirt was cool, but she could feel the slight heat of his skin beneath.

He turned slowly, swivelling his bottom against the slabs of wood that formed the window ledge.

She didn’t actively contemplate her movement, but the lust that had encased them during the night seem to hang in the air still and she’d crawled into his lap before she knew it. Her thighs rested either side of his as she bent to kiss him.

Claire; she was as light as a wee faerie, and as enchanting as one, Jamie pondered as her mouth moved fluidly against his own.

The caw of the crow knocked him from his bliss and he jerked quickly away from her, lifting her and placing her on her feet as he put some distance between them. Guilt reared its ugly head.

Ah Dhia, Claire! I shouldna ha’, Christ!” He stood in front of her, his hands clenched tightly by his side.

What had he done?

*’Shouldn’t have? You –didn’t want me–?’*

His brow scrunched tighter as he tried to understand her signs. She’d taught him some, of course, but he was still learning.

“It wasna right, Claire. I should ha’…” his eyes flittered nervously around the ever shrinking room, “I shouldna have taken ye so.”

Even as far away as he was, she could feel the deep rumble of his voice as he spoke, a low burr that seemed to vibrate through floor and up into her through her. Reading his lips as he spoke, her heart picked up as she realised what he was insinuating.  

Two fingers of his right hand rubbed lightly over his breast, right above his heart. A familiar gesture, something she’d noticed previously. Something she’d unconsciously started doing herself.

She clenched her jaw, anger flowing through her as she let him blether on, unwilling to even decipher his speech as he babbled. Her anger grew like a huge ragged flame trapped underneath her ribcage.

Claire let him continue until she’d worked herself up into such a lather. Stamping her foot she gripped the closest item she could get her hands on (which happened to be a small, thankfully empty, potion vial) and hurled it with renewed vigour at the floor.

Jamie jumped, his eyes wide as he finally looked at her.

Her cheeks were flushed the most glorious red, her pupils dilated so her eyes looked pitch black in the glow of the new day.

*’Just. Get. Out.’* 

She signed, pointing towards the open door once she’d finished, her heart hammering in the confines of her chest. Pulling the laces at the neck of her shift, she held the thin fabric around herself as best as she could.

Jamie’s chest tightened. He’d hurt her, he could see the pain lingering behind her eyes.

He wanted to stay, to make it right, but he saw the stubborn set of her shoulders and kent it would be to his detriment if he stayed.

“I’m so sorry, Claire.” He whispered as he turned and fled, shame following him like a suffocating fog.

Modern Mythology: Styx

“Now I am silent, hate up to my neck, thick, thick. I do not speak.”

A modern Styx that the gods have never been kind to, for they fear her touch, that it will be as jagged as rocks next to the sea, and the curl of her lips are just as unforgiving, however, just as limestone, somethings have already begun to crumble underneath the waves. She has never tolerated the world around her, and it ate away at her skin, just as she did the same to its people. There are whispers of her, that she is as devouring as the promises made upon her name and river, they say there was never a heart pumping against her rib cage, there has never been any mercy in those eyes of hers. However, few know that they are not truly wrong, her heart has long since slipped through the hollow spaces between her bones, melted into the sands as the earth above the underworld swallowed the blood of Pallas and it is only under the darkness of the underworld that she can pretend her husband isn’t a ghost. Under the waves, she can forget the world she never enjoyed anyway and her family with death on their skin, pretend that the water is all the world holds.

  • playing bastion: ah what an immersive and innovative game! truly the writers are masters of their craft to create such a poignant and inspiring story! this game is a masterpiece! a shining example of video games as an artistic medium!
  • playing transistor: IM IN REAL PHYSICAL PAIN. IM CRYING OVER A MAGICAL TALKING SWORD THAT SHOOTS LASERS. I HATE THIS GAME I HATE
A bit of a personal post, sorry.

This Saturday marks one year since my grandma passed. I was so close with her, she was the most constant person, and the only person I genuinely never doubted loved me, in my life. I lived next door to her my entire life, and saw her nearly every day until I moved out and away. She gave me a home when my mom left us and my dad just crumbled and ghosted. I am nearly a spitting image of her when she was young. She traveled the world raising 4 children alone while my grandpa was stationed in different parts of the world. She was such a badass lady. I miss her so much. I’m not looking forward to Saturday. I miss her so so much.

Scarlet Red

Blood.
Wounds.
White shirt painted red.
Palms soiled with scarlet.

Sectumsempra !”’

Her heart froze as she saw the dark haired man fall back against the wall in shock. The sound of a woman’s scream erupting through the room as her body flung forward, her hands scrambling over the wounds as they sliced up and down his body, the water pooling around her knees licking her skin.

Grey eyes meeting hers. Tears falling as her sob echoed all around her. The grip on her wand as she whispered the spells she knew, doing nothing as the blood pulsated from his wounds. His eyes dimming as she felt her heart thump up her chest into her throat.

..This cannot be happening..

Blood.
Wounds.
His white shirt staining red.

..I haven’t had chance to forgive you..

“HELP!” She screamed, her hand falling to his chest as she crumbled over him. Protecting him from the World, from any more harm, from any more danger. Her tears flooding down mixing with his blood. Her hand finding the marked skin, the very reason she hadn’t wanted to be near him and yet now she’d do anything to be closer.

..I don’t hate you.. I don’t..

“You need to move,” she heard faintly, hands on her as she moved through the water, her sobs continuing sounding out everything else.

..Please don’t die..

It felt as though she hadn’t got a safe grip on reality, suddenly watching as he rose from the ground, the black cape billow from sight as she stared at the ground where he had first fallen. The water filling around her still as her eyes fell to her shirt, to her hands. His deep crimson blood all over her skin. Her hair slicked against her face from the water and tears.

Closing her eyes she saw it all, the fight that erupted before her as she merely was passing. The screams. The sound of cracked porcelain. The crack of spells. Pushing into the bathroom, the green spell near missing Harry before the Gryffindor shouted his spell, Draco crumbling like a deck chair to the ground. The woman’s scream shrieking through the bathroom as she rubbed her knees that had connected with stone.

“She needs to go to the hospital wing,” she heard the Professor say above her. Clamping her eyes closed. “And Mr Zabini, ensure that she gets cleaned up.”

She felt the warm arms scoop her, her eyes occasionally noticing the faces of students as she cuddled into his hold. Suddenly feeling the warmth of a bed as she curled into a ball, tears falling silently down her cheeks as she felt her chest want to burst open. The tingling of spells as she watched the blood fade from her skin, her hair and shirt drying. She heard a male voice, but she couldn’t follow him. As if lost between reality and her mind.

And then she was alone. Darkness having filled the hospital wing.

Sitting up to see the blonde across from her. His eyes closed and his face pale even in the moonlight. She found herself perched on his bed, unsure how she even got there as she clutched her face before her head slowly fell to his chest as she clutched his sheets.

“I need you…” She whispered into his chest as her fingers grazed his side. “.. I don’t want to, but, in that moment.. It became clear that, I need you.”

It was probably the most honest moment she had with him up to now. So preoccupied with being right, winning and being in power that they had never really shared much more. She felt much more, that was undeniable. Her eyes filling again at the thought he could never have known, trying to fight back pouring tears all over him when she felt his hand on her head, tears releasing at his touch. Not wishing to look up she remained exactly as she was.

“I still hate you,” she whispered with a smile.

“Feelings mutual princess,” he croaked as she looked up and he offered her a half smile.

“You scared me.”

“I wished for sympathy,” he said as his eyes closed but he smirked.

“I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“It’s exhausting isn’t it,” his hand brushing her cheek.

“We’ve fought for months —”

“— years,” his fingers brushing her hair. “I think it be far easier for you to just relinquish and admit you love me.”

“Never,” she laughed as he smiled.

“You’re no fun.”

Her head moving up as she pressed her lips to his, little shocks electrifying her lips as the pair of them moved softly against one another. Her cheeks burning as they moved apart, his eyes on her.

“No more games?”

“No more games,” he said softly. “Not that I have time for them.” His arm raising as she looked at him sympathetically. “Don’t pity me.”

“I don’t think I can lose you,” she said as she wiped her cheek.

“I’m not losing you now princess.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he croaked.

“Can I stay here a while?”

His head moving to gain a better view, the moonlight shining his faded pink scars, “you can stay here for as long as you like princess. Forever if you wish.”

Draco’s fingers wiping her cheek as she adjusted herself into his arm and chest, her hand placing gently on his arm as she ran circles against his skin. The feel of his breath against her forehead and she was sure that she hadn’t felt anything more wondrous.

He was alive. And she was sure she was in love. A princess in love with the dark knight, a death eater.

4

— Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

5

I can’t take my eyes off of them in this scene. Scully, using her crossed arms to hold herself together and distance herself from them, struggling to stay strong, be a rock. Mulder, trying not to worry about her, dancing around in the back with his hands on his hips. He can’t keep from worrying. He can’t keep from staring at her. He’s angry and frustrated and wants to do something. Anything.

That last shot, especially, says so many things. Like Mulder, we are focused on Scully now, angry about what we know has been done to her. There’s Mulder, standing just out of focus behind her, jaw clenched, ready to fight–trying to hope, when he can feel his world starting to crack and crumble before him.

2

As she stepped out of the car, carefully avoiding puddles of collected rainwater in her nice (and new) heels, she navigated up the old stone path to the gate at the front of the establishment. Brightly colored leaves drifted from the trees around her, shaken loose by rain and wind. They gathered on the ground and Dragica considered the poignant contrast their color made against the drab world. There had been a time in her life when she had felt like one of these leaves, drifting helplessly in the grip of time and the decisions of others, a time when she had been human and fragile. She plucked a leaf from the air and turned it over in her hand, the fragile thing crumbling at her touch before she let it fall again, continuing its inevitable descent. Perhaps one day she would join the leaves, dying and discarded, but she had not wrenched control of her fate from the hands of men to let it slide away so easily.

Cyrano de Bergerac: Madeline “Roxane” Robin [INFJ]

OFFICIAL TYPING BY: mysterylover1213

Introverted Intuition (Ni): Roxanne has a distinct and impenetrable worldview, a powerful image she’s built up of reality that refuses to crumble down or bend to the real world around her. She’s utterly convinced of her internal concepts, of her grand vision of perfect love and of her certainty of the dangers facing her beloved. She has never spoken to Christian, but is convinced through their brief moments together that he is a learned hero of romance, and proclaims that if this vision should prove untrue she would die. She’s always more willing to chase her grand vision of the future than any tangible ideas in the present, preferring to act on those ideas and follow her consistent aims. She has a persistence of purpose that cannot be eroded. She always parallels her experiences to some imagined symbol or great notion. 

Extroverted Feeling (Fe): For Roxane, taking care of others comes naturally. She’s upfront with her feelings on everything, emotionally honest and happy to discuss her emotions with anyone, as long as it’s socially acceptable for her to do so. She’s caught up with the thrill of falling in love with the idea of someone, rather than with the actual person she supposedly cares for. She acts on her feelings often, leaving the safety of her home to care for the soldiers on the battlefield. She’s also good at feigning, around those who cannot be trusted, and plays out a crazy false scheme in order to trick a dangerous suitor.

Introverted Thinking (Ti): Cyrano, Christian, and everyone else describe Roxanne as a learned intellectual. She’s highly scholarly and loves to analyze things, piece by piece. She has a great wit of her own and a talent at wordplay, taking in Cyrano’s poetry and analyzing each line. She usually follows her heart, but she’s also practical, clever and quick to come up with a scheme or two to help save the day. She’s a font of intellectual, high concepts, and refuses to love a man who can’t dazzle her with clever wordplay.

Extroverted Sensing (Se): Roxane’s Se is fairly unhealthy, as she pretty much twists her observations to better fit her already existent worldview; Christian looks good, therefore he must be brilliant. She’s capable in a physical situation, such as her clever scheme to sneak out to the garrison and keep an eye on Christian. However, her Se doesn’t serve her well, as she completely misses that Cyrano is in love with her and can’t even seem to deduce his voice beneath the balcony.

the god of war was never your favourite.
always screwing over us mortals
screwing over the gods
screwing aphrodite.
yet still you fancied yourself an Ares
this hulking beast of a deity
significant, present, strong, powerful
yet not loved
you were certain no one ever could
when even your goddess took more lovers in your bed
than you took lives on her battlefield
you believed with a wave of your fist the world around you would erupt into chaos
and the already present chaos of the world around you
was somehow your fault.

truth is, you’re obviously no god.
but you’ve still started a war inside me
i look at you and i see cities crumble, mountains melt, and the sky slide into the seas.
the lamb loving lion is too limp for what this is
it’s a blade of grass infatuated with the sun
i am not so significant but she is the reason i can live
i will never kiss a solar flare but i imagine the burn would be the same if i pressed my bloodied lips against yours
i set my skin alight with matches and engine oil so i know what it would feel like to touch you
i would wade through the river styx and back if
just for a second
you’d let me drown in you.

but Ares was known for his temper
and it would be my mortal sin to forget the fire in your skull as well as in your skin
i’ve never craved that soul shaking heart breaking orgasm faking kind of love that aphrodite brings
but i would let hades carve your love letters into my ribs to give me one more reason to breathe

we are not gods.
we are flesh,
we are blood,
we are human
and one day we’ll die and i don’t know if we’ll get to heaven
but if we do
i know they’ll answer the gates with
“we’re sorry, but your gods don’t live here any more”
we’ll be left standing at the edge of the clouds
and i think we’ll go tumbling over
but
it doesn’t matter
i’ve learned falling doesn’t hurt so hard when it’s in love.

—  and oh, she is fire (h.h.)

i. 
you find her on the ship.
you find her, and you understand
why your brother could not leave her behind.
her hair is like the gold 
like wheat in the times of harvest
like the white hot dunes of your home
of troy.
(helen of troy. you think
the name will fit her quite nicely.)
still, when you look into her eyes
you swear you can see the world crumbling around you,
kingdoms collapsing into dust.
you swear you can see the end of times,
that you can hear the languages of the apocalypse.
(you start to think
that perhaps you will never see your son 
grow into a suit of armor.)

ii.
you beg your brother to fight.
he does.
he fights boldly, valiantly, courageously,
and he loses.
he loses and then he crawls to your feet,
crawls to you like a man in the desert searching for water
rust dripping from his mouth and hands shaking
crying like the little boy he is.
you say you want to die for love
you remember snarling.
but you know nothing about dying,
and you know nothing about love.

you did not realize how true your words were until now.
‘is this what you left me for?’ menelaus screams at the sky
and you are ashamed to call him your blood.
embarrassed that the gods cursed you with kinsman weak as him.
but he is still that.
your family. your blood.
he is my brother. 
he is my brother.
he is my brother.

you push your sword through the warlord’s chest
as he tries to take your sibling.
somewhere in the distance,
you think you hear a brother’s scream too.

iii.
you fight achilles with an inferno in your veins 
and an avalanche on your lips.
he is the ocean.
you are the storm.
and gods, what a glorious catastrophe you make.
you dance with each other, swords flailing, sweat dripping
and the feral grimace on your face
feels all too much like a smile.
this is it.
this is what you were made for.
a slip of a sword, a split second opening,
you swing your arm and see blood
and your muscles scream triumph and your head glory.
but your soul screams something else. 
dread builds in you as you realize the king of the myrmidons
has gone down too easily.
you take off his helmet
and you for a moment, you are certain
it is your brother’s eyes looking back at you.
he looks so frightened,
so scared.
you know nothing about dying
do any of them? do any of them at all?
'he was his cousin,’ odysseus tells you. 'patroclus.’
it does not matter who he is.
it does not matter at all.
(you have killed a child.)

iv.
you see him waiting outside the gates,
wearing the armor of the child you slew.
he is like a ghost.
immortal
invincible
achilles.
(if you saw armageddon in helen’s eyes
you are sure you see hell in his.)

v.
'there are no bargains between lions and men’ he says.
you wonder if that is what you’ve always been
a man in a world of lions.
you once dreamed of becoming something great
of hearing your name whispered
with reverence, awe, and wonder.
(you realize now that it will not be your name
that will last through the centuries.
it will be his.)
hector. breaker of horses.
hector. the fool who thought he’d killed achilles.

—  hector of troy // you will be remembered as the demonstration of his rage
2

Request : “Could you do one based off of like I’m gonna loose you by Megan trainer with Crowley? Like the reader has a nightmare about Crowley leaving her and she wakes up in tears which wakes Crowley up and there can be some fluff, but then she thinks that he is still gonna leave her so some sweet and loving smut happens. Sorry to be so specific!! Thanks!! Also, is there anyway you could keep me anonymous? Thanks!”

-

Warnings : Reader has a nightmare, fluffy smut, unprotected sex


His eyes were cold as he looked back at you and you had never felt so weak, so helpless in your entire life. You were watching your whole world crumble around you and there wasn’t a thing you could do about it. His mind was set.

“It has to be this way.” Crowley said simply, turning his back on you and walking towards the door of the home you shared together. You shook your head in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening.

“No, no, it doesn’t.” Tears were running down your face as you tried to reason with him. “Crowley, please, don’t do this to me.” You felt so pathetic, begging him to stay, but what else could you do? You would be lost without him.

“Cmon, (Y/n), you always knew this would happen eventually. How could it not? You’re only human.”
_

You blinked up at the ceiling and you could feel the tears on your face as they slipped down your cheeks. You felt Crowley’s arm draped over your stomach as he slept soundly. You couldn’t help it; you began to sob at the memory of your nightmare. It was all true. It may not have happened yet, but it would eventually.

“(Y/n)? Darling, what’s wrong?” Crowley was sitting up now, wide awake at the sight of you upset. He didn’t wait for you to answer before pulling you against his chest, trying to calm you down. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can help, pet.”

“Y-You left.” You chocked out, new tears forming in your eyes and you felt his arm tighten around you.

“(Y/n), I wouldn’t be able to function a day without you. You’re everything to me.” He promised, whispering in your ear.

“I’m only human.” You muttered back and he let out a breath. “You couldn’t possibly want to stay here with me. I-I’m a fleeting life, and you’re.. you’re perfect.” You felt so drained. Crowley kissed your neck lovingly, drawing a small sigh from your lips.

“You’re the only person alive to ever describe me as perfect, love.” He chuckled in your ear. “Did you know that I didn’t believe in true love until I met you?” His lips were exploring your exposed skin. You shook your head, tilting it to the side so he had more access. “I didn’t think it was possible to truly love someone so much, but then I saw you.” Crowley laid you down on your back, hovering over you, rubbing up your sides. “I saw you with those Winchesters and I thought you were the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth.” His hand slipped under the waistband of your panties before tugging them all of the way down. “But of course, I soon found out you weren’t just made up of beauty.”

“Crowley,” You almost whined as he lifted your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

“I remember the first time I ever made you laugh. I knew I wanted to hear it again, and again, and again, for the rest of my life.” He held your hands in his, above your head as he lined himself up at your entrance. “You’re the one for me. It’s always been you. It always will be you.” He thrusted into you slowly, drawing a sigh of pleasure from your parted lips. “You’re so beautiful, so intelligent, so kind.” Crowley was uttering against your lips as he moved his hips, going deeper with every thrust.

“Oh my.. Oh Crowley..” You moaned, arching your back. You looked up into his eyes and you swore you could see every ounce of love he had for you. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that all he had said to you was nothing but the truth. “I love you.” You gasped and Crowley hit a sweet spot deep inside of you, over and over again.

“I love you.” He replied, followed by a groan as your walls began pulsating around his hard cock. His thrusts started to speed up, your moans became louder, and he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you passionately before giving one hard thrust had you coming around him. You moaned into his mouth, rolling your hips against his, bringing on his own orgasm. “(Y/n), (Y/n)…” He was gasping your name against your lips as he came inside of you. Once the both of you had come down from your highs, Crowley began kissing random parts of your face; your forehead, your cheek, your nose. You giggled when he kissed the side of your mouth and he smiled against your lips. “I’m so lucky I have you..”


_

Authors Note : Thank you for the request! I enjoyed writing this! I hope it’s what you had in mind.

  • what she says: i'm fine
  • what she means: frank castle hears the onslaught of bullets meant for karen page before they rip through her apartment and he shields her with his entire body. he does this on instinct, he does this without hesitation. he wraps his arms around her head, he braces his legs on either side of her - he does nothing to protect himself and she grabs onto him for dear life. and when the firing ceases, the frenzy of dust slowing to a swirling cloud in the air, the final bits of plaster crumbling from the wall, the glass of picture frames shattered and littering the floor, the screech of a baby from a nearby apartment reminding us of the existence of the rest of the world, karen begins to move - she releases her grip on his arm, her hands going immediately to her head, and frank castle, his fingers in her hair, moves his hand immediately on top of hers. "we gotta get outta here" he says and with his hands gripping her shoulders, guides her up from the floor. his hand moves to her shoulder blades and eventually down her back until she is running out the door!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! FRANK CASTLE NEVER LETS GO OF KAREN PAGE UNTIL THE VERY LAST SECOND! FRANK CASTLE DOESN'T EVEN CONSIDER PROTECTING HIMSELF UNTIL SHE IS OUT THE DOOR!!!!!!!!!!!

Beacon Hills rarely had the chance to take a breath before its inhabitants were threatened. Scott knew this as soon as Deaton told him the fate of the Nemeton and the meaning of the town’s name. Despite this, he’d somehow been convinced by his mother to accompany her on a trip out of town to scope out a potential college. She insisted on him maintaining a “normal” life, despite all of Beacon Hills challenges. When he came back, however, he’d wanted to shout into the void. With Deaton gone, Scott’s link to the town lore was severed. The world was crumbling around him and he hadn’t been there to pick up the pieces and now… he wasn’t sure if he could pick any of them up. He slumped over the empty examination table at the Beacon Hills pet clinic. It was the one place he could go and feel relatively safe enough to brood–despite the painful memories that he would never see Deaton here again. A sudden knock on the door and the familiar sound of the squeaking hinges broke him from his thoughts. “We’re closing soon,” he called out to the door, just in case it was another client trying to get a walk-in-appointment. The hours were posted right on the door! “Come back tomorrow!”

Never Let You Go

She’s not far from home when she hears it. The taunting, the crying, the laughing. Her fists clinch at her side and she increases her speed. This cannot be happening.

But when she rounds the corner, there she is. Kara. She’s crumbled over in the grass three kids circling around her like sharks. She doesn’t look afraid for herself. No, Alex can read a whole different kind of fear on her face as her fists grab at the grass to prevent herself from lashing out. The flash of red in Kara’s eyes serves as a warning. One the other kids do not recognize. The anger inside Kara is something she knows her little sister fears.  It’s not something she feels she can control, but with her world shattered, she has every right to feel it. Only with powers like hers, she can’t afford to.

That’s where Alex comes in. Rushing forward, fists raised. Alex shouts at them. “Get away from my sister!”

They all turn wide-eyed. They know Alex Danvers. They know her reputation, and they scuttle like flies swatted away.

Kara is staring up at her, expression soft now, the red in them waning, and Alex realizes now for the first time what she said, what she acknowledge.

Kara is her sister, and as she reaches her hand out, watching as Kara’s hands loosen on the dirt and come to gently intertwine with her own that she can no longer picture a future where that statement rings false. When Kara smiles that big puppy dog smile at her, Alex’s heart melts. That space inside Alex that’s felt hollow since her father died fills just a little with this alien from another planet whose smile rivals the sun.

She pulls the other girl close, hands slipping behind her back to ground her-to drive the anger away. She can feel the tension in Kara’s muscles ease away, can feel the wet tears leak from Kara’s eyes onto her shoulder.

“You’re ok, baby girl,” Alex whispers into her sisters ever blonder hair, “I got you.”

And she knows right then that she’ll never let her go.

10

Day 7. 🚐

We waved a fond farewell to Queenstown and headed for the Crown Range Road to Wanaka. They welcomed us with a big black handshake! 🤝

It wasn’t long before we stumbled upon Puzzling World. A whole host of illusions and head warping puzzles presented themselves in different forms around the grounds. Very public bathrooms though.. no privacy.. 😮

Further up the road Connie realised that she had way too many bras with her so had to chuck a few hundred out. 🤷🏻‍♀️

We stopped at my favourite kind of farm, a salmon farm. Picked up some supplies for dinner, fed the fish, Connie even did a spot of fishing! 🐟

On a recommendation we took a detour to the Clay Cliffs. These crumbly beasts towered high above us and for a moment we lost one another, ahhh, a wee moment of peace. 😉

Parking up on the side of Lake Pukaki we settled in for the night. Connie washed pants while I cooked the dinner. We wouldn’t have it any other way! 🇳🇿

Also a big shout out to our amazing Mums. We miss you both everyday but it is particular hard to be this far away from you both today 🌻 all our love and Happy Mothers Day Bryony and Linda ❤️💛💚💙💜