and keeps it framed under his pillow

au where all the marauders and lily live together and it’s just a Mess

  • their cutlery is a mixture of plastic knives and forks built in bulk from the local supermarket and fancy, silver, engraved knives and forks sirius steals from pureblood events mr&mrs potter ask him and james to go to with them
  • every windowsill is dedicated to remus’ plants and lily is allergic to one of them but they can’t figure out which so james threatens to drown all the plants bc they’re making lily sneeze and remus throws a watering can at him
  • no one can remember who owns what so peter is always wearing james’ shoes or lily is always wearing sirius’ jeans or remus is always wearing sirius’ shirt (lily complains on a regular basis that she never gets to steal james’ shirt to sleep in bc it always ends up being someone elses) 
  • james has to transfigure the shelf in the bathroom so that it’s big enough to hold all of sirius’ different soaps and conditioners
  • there’s always a cauldron with a different bubbling potion in it each week in the kitchen and one time peter’s v drunk and he thinks it’s soup and he drinks it and he grows an extra leg and lily has to take him to st mungo’s
  • the only chair they’ve never had to cast a reparo charm on is the comfy armchair with extra pillows which lily put a permanent heating spell on and it’s Remus’ Chair. 
  • bobby pins. are. everywhere. lily is always buying new packs and then sirius is “borrowing them” and never returning them and somehow there are bobby pins in remus’ plants, in their shoes, in between james pile of textbooks he says are for “pleasure reading”, in the sugar pot, under pillows, over doorframes, in the cat’s fur
  • peter and lily begin feeding a stray cat that shows up all the time and lily says she wants to keep it so ofc james wants to keep it and then it’s 4 against 1 bc remus likes the fact sirius leaves the room every time the cat begins to purr
  • 0 boundaries. there are three bedrooms and no one knows whose is whose so they all end up sharing sometimes 
  • every time someone changes the radio station so it’s anything but his favourite quidditch one, james sulks for hours
  • remus framed all of their posters in attempt to make them seem like adults so then sirius makes him a “#1 adult” badge which he casts a permanently sticking charm on and sirius puts it on remus’ favourite jumper
  • after several official letters of complaint signed moony, wormtail & padfoot are delivered to their door, lily and james buy all three of them earmuffs so that way it’s their own fault if they hear anything they don’t want to
  • lily charms all the mirrors to tell sirius he has something on his face whenever he looks in it
  • all the rooms are only half decorated bc they got lazy after moving in
  • all of them are scared of spiders. except for peter, who walks in smugly with mug and coaster after he hears screams from a room 

anime7otaku7artist7  asked:

Can I get headscanons for the paladins with an artistic s/o? Please?

Heck yea!!! From one artist to another :3 ~Mod Red Lion


  • Not only does he adore your skill but he adores the passion you have for it
  • He won’t watch you create pieces per say but if he catches you drawing he will glance over occasionally (He finds your focused face absolutely adorable)
  • Would eventually ask for you to sketch him, whether you have or not
  • Would 100% commission you
  • “Babe you really don’t have to give me money I don’t mind!” “Well then let me buy you some new pencils then”
  • Frames his favorite pieces
  • And puts some on the fridge


  • Finds its very interesting
  • Amazed at it tbh
  • “You drew that?” “I mean, yeah.”
  • He is the one that will watch you work on pieces if you let him
  • Finds it very relaxing when he watches you work
  • “So like, can you draw me something?”
  • If you’d draw him he’d m e l t
  • He asked you to draw you both once and he keeps it under his pillow with his knife


  • Offers to be a model right away
  • He takes off his shirt and flexes and when his s/o giggles in response he becomes a flustered stuttering mess
  • Finds it amazing
  • He would try and paint you a picture and it’s adorable
  • Wants to impress you and show he’s inspired by your skill
  • Teach him how to watercolor and he will start painting
  • Yall end up painting a picture together
  • Lance hangs it in his room and he gets the biggest smile everytime he looks at it


  • “That. is. so. awesome!”
  • Will becoming a red face adorable goof if you draw him something
  • Watches you draw whenever he can
  • Will praise you for your talent he is literally your cheerleader
  • “Hun, it’s not even that good.” “Well I can only name one thing that looks better than your art and that’s you, so…”
  • If you have black and white sketches he loves to color them
  • It much more relaxing than trying to fix the food goo machine
  • In awe with all your pieces


  • A big nerd for your work but is on the down low about it
  • “Can you draw robots at all?”
  • Please help Pidge design robots, she’ll fall for you even more
  • Yall would end up creating your own ocs that you ship together
  • Soon enough it turns into a story and game of sorts
  • You draw eachothers characters once and Pidge cant really draw but it was so cute
  • Her s/o ends up hanging up Pidge’s art
  • Yall also end up pimping our green a bit more by drawing blue prints
  • Pidge and her s/o bond so much over this oh lawd
The Wetter the Better

this is a short blurb based off of this ask and also this ask :) 

Waking up next to my boyfriend of more than a year was something that never got tiring. Hearing him stretch and yawn out of his sleep, watching him twist and turn his half naked body in noisy grumbles as he fought off the need to actually get up out of the bed….it was one of the best parts of my day. But waking up next to my boyfriend, who was more than eager for his first day visit to the Masters, and seeing him doing a silly shirtless snapchat that he would send out to all his fans, now that was something that would never get old.

Rolling over in the bed to face him, I watched him pull a funny face into the snapchat camera, my hand cupping over my lips as I struggled to contain my giggles. He was the biggest goofball, mostly saving it for me, but every once in awhile he’d share his silliness with the world and that made me love him even more. But also I couldn’t help but want to poke fun at him for it. When he finally finished his early morning gift to his fans, he tossed his phone down to the end of the bed. “Mornin’, love,” he mumbled out to me, eventually slinging his arm around the dip in my waist over the covers and nudging my sleepy frame towards his.

I breathed out a smile. “Giving your fans a little treat, huh?”

“Shit, I’m excited, baby,” he mentioned as he shrugged his shoulder and turned the one corner of his mouth down, “and I do what I gotta do to keep ‘em on their toes, you know that.”

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wonwoo; days in the sun

Originally posted by visual-17

part 1/? of svt!disney au inspired by this thread

feat. beast!Wonwoo x bibliophile!reader (FINALLY WROTE A WONWOO!!)

genre: beauty and the beast au, fluff/romance, slight flangst

word count: 2123

Snow dipped between the crevices of the hand-painted French windowpane, thousands of scintillating diamonds icing against the frosted glass. The snowflakes further out melted instantaneously upon meeting the cobblestone of the castle. She briefly wondered how exactly warm this castle was from the inside, considering from the outside the tower much resembled a memento mori in their iota of a desolate kingdom.

Her nails dragged away with a subconscious slowness from the glass as she backed away from the window, turning her head to her sleeping patient.

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Show Me Something New

Holy shit I finally wrote porn AO3 Post

Egobang ofc


3,836 Words

Arin had already taken a full day to grind in Dark Souls III. He’s also just lost 80000 souls and is currently slowly dying inside.

Poised at the right end of the couch, he leaned forward, both feet planted firmly on the ground in a state of pure concentration. Dan decided to sit in and chill with Arin in his very sparse downtime, taking on a more relaxed and reclined position on the left. He cuddled into the corner of the left side, blanket drawn firmly over his lanky form. They both wore sweatpants, the lazy man’s tuxedo, but while Dan donned a tight fitting black tee, Arin sported a burgundy tank, the front embellished with a pink banner spelling, “Girl Power.”

“Dude, this boss is absolutely kicking your ass.” Dan commented unhelpfully. Arin had intended on taking out a couple optional bosses and more powerful enemies in order to gain souls and items quicker: a mistake.

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She is Lost

The girl with the wild hair and lost eyes had been at Wool’s for four months before Tom had met her, having been finishing his sixth year at Hogwarts when she was taken in. He had thought it curious when he heard that Mrs. Cole had taken on another charge, considering the fact that she was- to their estimations- anywhere from fifteen to seventeen years in age; far too old to have had any chance of being adopted, far too old to really be deserving of any pity. Space in the cramped and run down orphanage was scarce, and food was even scarcer, the effects of the muggle war tolling heavy on the supplies available to the public. Nearly everything was rationed, kindness included.

The girl with the strange sounding name had earned the concern of Mrs. Cole, had been pathetic enough for the old caretaker to want to take her in, protect her. She was covered in grime and blood when the police officer discovered her, the orphans had whispered behind their hands. Was found huddled on the streets of London, bewildered and frightened, with nothing in her possession aside from the tattered clothes, and a curious necklace that had been shattered. She had no memory of who she was, or where she was from, whatever accident she had gotten into having robbed that of her, the same force that embedded the glass of her brass pendant into her chest, scarring the skin. She was brought to the gates of the orphanage after having seen a physician, the head injury she had sustained partially healed among the many other injuries.

‘No one has claimed her.’ 'Victim of the war.’ 'Consistent with a great fall, and an assault.’ 'Has nowhere to go.’ 'Has no memory, terrible amnesia.’

Those were the words that she was marked with, and Mrs. Cole with a sigh had taken her in. Had cleared a room for her in a linen closet, set up a cot. She did not need a wardrobe anyway, as she had nothing to put in it.

Tom had been back within the walls of the building for only a day when he had learned that she was regarded as a  pariah of sorts among the orphans, that she was spoken of only under their breath. 'Strange,’ they called her. 'Crazy.’ They eyed her in a way that was familiar to Tom, as they had looked to him with the same gaze. Wide eyes filled with fear of the unknown, with confusion to what this being before them was, what they were capable of. 'She does things like Tom used to do. I don’t trust her,’ one of them had said when they did not see him around the corner, their tone repulsed and filled with hatred, dripping like acid.

It took only three days into his return for him to see why, when he was startled from his sleep once more by screams, the walls undulating with her yells of pain. Grabbing hold of his wand, he followed the sound of her cries, thrusting open the door to the linen closet with every intention of silencing her. Three nights had gone by without sleep, three nights he had sat in his bed with the pillow over his ears as she wailed and thrashed from whatever nightmare or possession she was under. He was going to keep her quiet, the same way he had kept Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop silent.

The door flung open, and suddenly the screaming stopped, the girl sitting up straight in her bed with a gasp as she awoke, her honey brown eyes wide and searching for him in the darkness of the room. He had closed the door behind him, the click of the door as it settled in the frame and was locked wandlessly like a harbinger, and she stood at the noise.

“I’m growing very tired of your screams,” he said, his tone dangerously low, like a growl in his throat. His hand rose before him, the wand clutched tight in his grasp, only to feel a sharp pull from it, watching in awe as it was suddenly flung from his fingers. The wand collided with the wall behind her, bouncing off it and falling to the floor unceremoniously, rolling down the slightly uneven wooden planks. His nostrils flared, his brow twitched. Anger filled his chest like a well, a reservoir of it, and he took a step forward, his eyes narrowed at her. Before he could draw from it, could tap into the magic he had used so often as a child until he began channeling it through his wand, a great force hit him in the gut, the breath expelled from him as it did so.

He was shoved back by invisible hands, his body roughly crashing into the shelves behind him. All at once they broke, though not through any physical means, and he stumbled to the floor, splintered wood and spare linens tumbling at his feet. The sound was deafening, and quickly followed by harried footsteps as various children and matrons ran to check on what had been the source. They banged on the door, voices calling for them to open it as it shook from the reverberations of their fists.

But he did not, instead leveling his eyes so that they met Hermione’s, his anger replaced with interest. She was a witch then, whether or not she knew it, and the air sizzled and cracked with her magic, he could feel it pulsing through the air. It was suffocating, billowing around him like smoke from a fire.

The door finally ripped open as he unlocked it, turning to look at the sea of faces in the threshold, Mrs. Cole rushing through them so as to look between him and Hermione, worriedly. “I heard her screaming so I came in here to see if everything was alright, but I tripped,” he lied, motioning to the mess surrounding him.

He was told to return to his room, and he had done so, his wand carefully concealed in his sleeve, thinking back to the girl who wasn’t just a girl. She was a witch, with untapped potential, with magic overfilling her and begging to be released and realized. Begging to be controlled. Perhaps this summer wouldn’t be as drab or as dull as the others.

She is a Witch

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A few weeks after Mike gives El a charm bracelet with a tiny heart—one of twelve gifts for her first birthday in Hawkins—she shows up at the Wheeler’s house with a small pink bag, neatly packed with white tissue paper and shyly hands it to Mike. It’s not his birthday, nor any other special day, so he unwraps it tentatively and finds a long thin gold chain at the end of which is a large heart-shaped locket. 

Unsure how to react, Mike begins to stammer out a thank you until El shakes her head and puts her hands over his. “Open it,” she smiles. And Mike obeys. Tucked inside the locket is a tiny picture of them, taken at the small party Joyce had thrown for her, their faces smiling and Mike’s cheeks bright red.  

It’s the first of many ‘just because’ gifts that Mike and El will exchange throughout the years and Mike keeps it safely nestled next to the picture frame, containing a photo of him with his five best friends, on his nightstand. Except for when he sleeps. Each night, Mike slips the locket under his pillow, clasped in the hand that rests there, as he dozes off, always thinking about El’s smile.

Celestial Black

This all started with this post and no one was writing my vampire fic so I wrote one for myself dammit! Also here’s a moodboard I made for this fic and the song I listened to while writing :) So without any regret further ado, here’s my Sebastian Stan x Female Reader Vampire AU fic/drabble thingy !

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Going to bed with Bruce was a rare occasion. Waking up with him however was more common.

He would always slide into bed at mornings light, probably patched up from some scuffle he had while on patrol. He thinks he’s being pretty slick. But his huge frame and weight are a dead giveaway.

He might be the greatest detective in the world, but he’s not the most cunning individual.

But yet there’s something in the way he holds you when he finally slips in that keeps you quite. It’s gentle and warm. His entire front engulfs your back. His head hovering slightly over yours on the pillow so your head is tucked under his jaw.

It almost feels like he’s trying to shield you.

The thought alone at first would send your heart pumping. Your entire face aflame at the mere intamacy of the notion. Even in sleep he was protecting you. Now that it’s been a bit longer it still sends your heart racing, but in a different way.

What did he see every night that made him so paranoid? Gotham was full of crime, yes. But could it really be saved?

You would take a glance at his sleeping face, and bite your lip.

You didn’t really want to hear the answer.

So with a weary sigh, you let the horrors of his night remain in their realm. Closing your eyes as your hand flutters over his.

I Don’t Understand That Reference

Characters: CastielXReader, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1282

Summary: AU* – Y/N is a solo hunter rescued by the Winchester brothers and now living with them at the bunker. Working an intriguing case, her relationship with the fallen angel Castiel blossoms into something more than friendship - but is their love strong enough to survive the next apocalypse? AU note* - Cas has never been human in this universe. Fluff except for chapter 7 which is pure smut and can be skipped without losing anything of the plot.

Chapter 4

You swung open the motel door and reached blindly along the wall seeking the light switch. Your fingers hit on the switch and light dimly filtered through the room from a small lamp on the kitchen table. Too exhausted from the day’s drive to acknowledge the tackiness of the myriad of taxidermy mounted on the walls, you headed for the nearest bed and tossed up your duffle which landed in a chorus of creaky springs. You ran your fingers lazily through your hair before sitting on the edge of the bed and staring blankly at the tiger skin rug at your feet, “Unsettling.” You tried the word out loud, wondering what Cas meant. You fumbled wearily in your pocket for your phone and pulled up Cas’s number. Your finger paused over the connect button before indecisiveness got the better of you and with a yawn you tossed the phone beside your duffle. Ruffling through your belongings, you grabbed your toiletry kit and headed for the bathroom. You’d grab a few hours of shut eye and then check in with Cas.

Upon completing his mysterious sojourn down the highway, Cas had returned to the motel and was standing outside your room contemplating the door key. He didn’t want to wake you - he knew human’s required adequate sleep to function and you’d driven 12 hours straight on precious little sleep to get there. He made to walk to a nearby picnic area to patiently wait for the morning light when he heard sounds of a struggle and you crying out from within the room. In one fluid movement he was through the door – eyes glowing blue, angel blade in hand and poised to attack. His eyes faded and shoulders relaxed when he perceived you were safely in bed, but concern clouded his features as he realized you were in the throes of what must be a violent nightmare.

He padded quietly over to your side and sat beside your trembling sleeping frame, hesitating only a moment as he placed a hand gently on your shoulder, “Y/N?”

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Requested By:  tyler-phoenix

Dean shoved Sam. “Shut up! That’s a good song!”

Sam pointed at the tiny motel TV. “Not when that guy is singing it!”

You howled, impersonating the most recent contestant before the commercial break, “‘Feels like the first time, feels like the very first time!’”

Dean grabbed a pillow and covered your face with it. “That guy already disgraced Foreigner enough. You don’t need to join him with that racket.”

You laughed, shoving the pillow off of you. “C'mon, you know I’m a wonderful singer.”

Sam fell onto the bed next to you. “If what I’ve heard coming out of the shower is what you call singing, I’d have to disagree.”

You threw the pillow at him, but he warded it off. As you two began a pillow fight, Dean called out, “Shh! It’s back on!”

You all lied down next to each other on the motel bed, the frame creaking under the weight. You silently listened to the judges’ feedback, occasionally laughing at their comments. As each new contestant came on, you three all voted for whether they should go to Hollywood or not. You always voted for the bad ones, which riled up Dean. “Y/N, this is serious.”

You and Sam met each others’ eyes, then said to Dean in unison, “It's American Idol, Dean.”

He threw the pillow in your guys’ direction, all the while keeping his eyes trained on the screen. "Shut up! This girl is actually good.”

Request: Surprise Comeback

Request: Can you do a DeanxReader imagine where Dean is dying and it’s both their first and last kiss (because before they were just best friends who grew up together)? Thanks!

Request: Can I have a deanXreader where they are really close friends and do everything together and they cuddle and basically act like a couple. Can it be set in the beginning of season 4 when dean comes back from hell? He goes to her motel room and after she does all the tests and whatever and when she realizes it’s the real dean, she kinda just stands there in shock. Then dean, finally realizing he’s in love with her, just pushes her against the wall and they kiss. So much fluff okay haha thanks

Word Count: 1,569

Here it is, and I hope you guys don’t mind me combining the requests, I just thought they fit pretty well! Thank you, have a lovely day!<33

“There has to be something.” You breathe, looking around desperately. The game is up and you know it, but Dean has always known what to do before. You’re still clinging onto those last straws of hope that he’s still got a backup plan.

He doesn’t. The fear in his eyes and the minute shake of his head betrays that last hope, stabbing it in the back and throwing it to the wolves – literally. You swallow back your panic and watch as Dean’s eyes widen, zeroing in on the door behind you.


“They’re here.”

Almost as if on cue, the hellhounds begin battering at the door. It shakes precariously, the goofer dust only just holding up under their violent barrage. You stare at Dean with wide eyes and before you know it your feet are carrying you to him. You fling your arms around his neck and he readily meets your embrace, clinging tightly to you as if you can keep him anchored to the Earth.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers into the crook of your neck and a sob escapes you and you hold him tighter, unwilling to let him go for even a moment. After a moment, though, he’s the one that pulls away and as the doors fly open, his green, green eyes flash with something unreadable and he leans in, taking your face in both of his hands and kissing you roughly, trying to convey a lifetime’s emotions in that one, final kiss. You return it as best you can through your tears and as much as you do to stem your sorrow in front of him, when he releases you and gives you a firm shove towards the wall where Sam stands, watching in total horror.

You can’t make yourself turn away as the beasts bound into the room, ripping away one of the only people you’ve ever loved.


“Move up, lovebirds.” Sam teases, urging you to move over so he can join you for movie night. You shoot him a playful glare, shuffling in closer to Dean. Your legs are slung over both of his and his arm is around your shoulders, leaving you so close he’s keeping you warm and vice versa. You tuck the blanket around yourselves even closer as Sam starts the movie, pulling a duvet around himself, too.

You’d been planning on staying at Bobby’s for just a few days, but then the record three feet of snow had fallen, leaving you snowed in, stranded in the middle of South Dakota – not that you mind that, of course – it’s the fact that the heating has broken that you’re more bothered about.

“Just friends, Sam.” Dean murmurs, tucking you in closer to his side. You snuggle warmly into him, wrapping your arm around his abdomen and lying your head in the crook of his neck. You love being close to him – his presence is comfortable and strong, and you know you’re always going to be safe when Dean Winchester is near. You’re so comfortable, in fact, that you fall asleep before the film even gets good.

You’re still dead to the world when the film ends, and so Dean scoops you up into his arms, tucking your head against his shoulder carefully, and carries you to your room. He tucks you into bed, smiling as you mumble some sort of half-asleep thanks before dropping back off.

You wake up just a few hours later to screams of anguish that make your stomach turn and your blood run cold. You hurl yourself out of bed, throwing the door open and bolting down the corridor.

“Dean?!” You yell, panic tunnelling your vision, “Dean, where are you?!”

All you’re met by is more screaming so you keep running, down a corridor that seems to stretch and bend and twist and fall, dizzying you horribly. You push on, determined to find your best friend.

When you do, however, the back of your throat burns with bile and your eyes tear up – he’s pinned to the wall, his clothes being ripped apart by an invisible force. Blood runs everywhere, thick and warm, filling the air with its copper odour. Where his eyes should be candy-apple green, you’re met with onyx black. You try to scream, but it’s like you’re underwater and-

A gasp fills your ears as you suck sweet oxygen into your lungs, sat bolt upright in bed. Your mind reels with images – from the replay of such a sweet memory to the images that have blurred your image of Dean on repeat for the past four months. You take a shuddering breath, pulling your shirt away from your cold sweat-slicked skin.

The motel room is dark but your eyes adjust quickly; enough for you to find a bottle of something strong and sit back down on the bed, your whole body trembling. You take a sip, feeling it burn down your throat, and lean against the damaged headboard, trying to regain your nerve.

“Just a dream,” You mumble to yourself, trying everything in your power to ward off the emotional tide threatening to pull you under, “Just a dream.”


You’re woken by harsh knocks at your door, like someone is trying to break your door down. You groan, rolling out of bed and only just keeping your footing as you hit the floor. You stumble over to the door and peer through the peephole – nothing. You’re about to dismiss it as your imagination, but something urges you to open the door anyway, so you do.

You’re met with something you never thought you’d see again – Dean Winchester stands on your doorstep, a warm smile on the face you’ve missed so much. You take one look at him and slam the door shut.

“Oh, come on, Y/N!” He knocks again, more gently this time, “It’s me!”

“Like hell it is!” You reply, yelling through the door, “Get the hell away before I pump you full of rock salt!”

“Y/N, please.” He begs, “Open the door, test me. Please.”

Something in his tone makes you want to open the door. Something about him that’s always given you a stupid amount of hope that, in hindsight, has only ever managed to get you hurt, or the people you love dead. You crack open the door, snagging a silver flask from the table as you do.

As soon as it’s far enough open, Dean (or not) jams his foot in the frame and steps in, slamming the door behind him. As he turns to you, you empty the contents of your holy water flask onto his face.

And, nothing. He shakes his head, scattering water droplets everywhere, and then raising a silver blade to his arm, but you stop him.

“No.” You interrupt, retrieving your own from under your pillow and handing it to him, “Use mine.” You say harshly, unable to believe this. People don’t just come back from Hell like that – nuh-huh.

He nods, keeping eye contact with you as he makes a cut along the back of his arm, the way you’ve seen him do a thousand times before.

“See? It’s me.” He says softly, looking to you for a reaction.

You’re left speechless, your jaw slightly slack and your eyes wide. You’d lost him; he was gone forever – and yet he’s made it back to you. Like he’d always promised to do.

You can’t form any words whatsoever – not so much as a celebration or a smile or… nothing. As it turns out, however, you don’t need to.

He advances towards you with such force that in surprise, you back up. He catches up to you, pressing a hand to each side of your neck and kissing you so firmly; so perfectly, that you’re snapped straight back to reality. You press your hands over his wrists, kissing him back as zealously as you can; trying to convey to him everything that you’re feeling and everything that you’ve wanted to tell him for as long as you can remember.

The pure passion of the kiss sends you reeling backwards, but Dean keeps up, backing you against the wall without loosening the kiss whatsoever. Despite the fact that your lungs are begging for air you refuse to pull away, terrified that if you take your eyes off him for a moment; if there’s so much as a second without physical contact, he’ll disappear and you’ll be alone once more.

When you finally do have to pull away you stand, his body pressed against yours and your foreheads meeting; arms wrapped around one another and heated breaths mingling between you.

“How did you-?” You breathe, not needing to go louder than that. He shakes his head minutely, swallowing quietly.

“I don’t know. But I came straight to you.” He confesses, his thumb drawing circles into your waist. You smile slightly, placing a light peck on his lips as you examine every feature of his face – every mark and freckle, the speckles of gold in his eyes, the blown pupils staring right back into yours.

“Good,” You tease, poking his ribs playfully, “I love you.”

It escapes so naturally that you barely notice what you’ve said until you see his reaction – wide eyes widening further and a smile spreading over soft lips. You’re about to apologise when he stops you entirely.

“I love you, too.” He whispers, “And I’m never going to leave you again.”

Cuddle - Stiles Stilinski

this is purely fluff, no warnings and this was just an idea I had while in class, so I decided to write it when I got home, hope you enjoy, sorry it’s short, also request are open, feel free to send in anything you would like

You still lay sleeping, Stiles had lost feeling in his arm long ago, however he couldn’t bring himself to wake you

Your cute squishy face mushed up against his bicep as you slept peacefully with your hand resting atop his, an occasional snore emitting from your parted mouth every once in a while

The amount of videos Stiles had taken of you sleeping using every different snapchat filter there was available was uncountable, he enjoyed a quiet morning where neither yours or his life’s were in danger

He got to be a normal 17 year old boy who’s girlfriend slept over, he got to be the Normal high school boy that used snapchat filters on his girlfriend while admiring her beauty, he wished he could keep this moment in a frame and relive it over and over

He laid his phone under the pillow and set his head back down onto the pillow, sighing happily and kissing your temple

“Hey bro, I wanted to drop this in” Scott said quietly Making Stiles roll over to face him, managing to do it in such a way he didn’t wake you. Scott placed Stiles’ laptop down on his desk and turned to leave, before stopping “ dude you arm must be killing right now” he laughed slightly

“It’s what you do when your in love Scott” Stiles smirked, though it fell into a adoring smile as you stirred on your sleep, mumbling something incoherent and staying fast asleep, Scott just shook his head while smiling, “see you guys around”

Stiles rolled over so he was once again engulfing you within the warmth of his body, you two pieced together like jigsaw pieces, the perfect fit

“Good morning beautiful” he beamed “good morning handsome” you replied groggily while smiling tiredly up at him “God Stiles, you could have pushed me off of you I’ve been laying on your arm all night, I’m sorry” you gushed pushing yourself off of him, only to be pulled back down

Stiles loved to be big spoon, he loved to hold you in his arms as you slept, he always needed to know you were there

And so, he pulled you back down into a comfy position, obviously his plans for the day were ; Be normal teenagers and take cute selfies together, have a lazy day and eat loads of junk food, tell each other how much you love each other and cuddle all day long while watching movies

Originally posted by cuteassgoals

beltsquid  asked:

Give to me all the Vicky headcanons you have

Ohhhhh man, so:

-Vicky is supposed to be Nate’s dog. He doesn’t forget about the “once this is done, I’m getting a dog” conversation and Elena is both amused and agreeable, but they get so busy setting up D&F Fortunes that it doesn’t happen right away. They’re about to finally get a dog when Elena turns up pregnant. Cassie is a planned child, but they didn’t think they’d conceive so fast, and the “dog as training wheels for child” thing is no longer viable when they’re looking at having a newborn and a young dog at the same time, so they put it off. Then, when Cassie is about three years old, they bring Vicky home and when they introduce her to the new family member, she toddles over, puts her arms around Vicky and hugs her, and from there on she is Cassie’s dog.

-She’s not an official search and rescue dog or anything, but given their world travels into sometimes remote areas, but they train her to always know where Cassie is. “Find Cassie” is a command they practice through hide & seek games when she’s little, which Cassie giggles through, but it does come in handy for real once when she’s walking on a trail and twists her ankle badly enough that she can’t walk. (Nate has a heart attack but eventually cracks some “Lassie” jokes, Elena gives Vicky approx. 100 doggy treats.)

-Vicky plays fetch, but her FAVORITE version of it involves throwing a frisbee or ball into the ocean waves so she can go splashing into them as she fetches.

-A lot of nights Vicky sleeps on Cassie’s bed, but the first time they leave her at home during an expedition, Vicky actually gets in bed under the covers with Cassie when she gets sniffly because she misses her parents. Sam has a picture of the two of them the next morning. Elena frames it.

-Vicky has interrupted at least one boning session when Nate and Elena notice the dog has gotten into their room and is watching them. Killed the mood dead.

-Aside from Cassie, Nate is Vicky’s favorite human, which is why she keeps sleeping on his pillow and he keeps getting dog hair in his mouth at night.

-Every year at Christmas, Sam brings Vicky a rawhide bone with a big red ribbon on it.

-Vicky is a Good Girl.

{ kuroken; cuddling }

It’s Kuroo’s biggest fear realized. He’d often wondered, through those awkward stages in their friendship when Kuroo would level up a grade or college separations, whether Kenma had ever thought of him as replaceable.

Finding family in Nekoma hadn’t weakened their bond any, hadn’t rusted childhood memories and the years of volleyball when they’d only had each other to lean on. His budding friendship with Hinata Shouyou, so good for him in every aspect, hadn’t pushed Kuroo to the sidelines.

Kuroo had thought, somewhat, that college might tear them apart. He’d never admit it. Not aloud, anyway, or to Kenma, that he’d ever had flashes of doubt that one day they would mean less to each other than they ever had since their playground days. But they’d withstood the test of distance, withstood nights alone and wistful texts on lonely days.

The true test comes only now.

Winter nights are chillier this year than Kuroo has ever remembered, like the wind is playing wingman to this boy who’s always in search of new excuses to touch his boyfriend, to feel his boyfriend, to tuck his boyfriend’s small frame against his own until soon they both begin to doze.

“Kenma, if you need help keeping warm,” he offers lazily, lifting his blanket and shifting over on the couch. An open invitation for cuddling.

Kenma stalks by, manga in hand, doesn’t even pause at the couch. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

He switches the kotatsu to high heat, burrowing deep under the blanket with a pillow for his head, and soon loses himself in his manga. Kuroo is left to uselessly pull his blanket up to his shoulders, shivering in the cool air. “You can come under here, too,” Kenma tries to offer, dully flipping a page, but he snidely turns his nose away.

Bokuto’s still tickled pink by his dilemma, and his reply to Kuroo’s complaints about losing Kenma to a goddamn heat-blanket is only ever Kuroo, stop being so lame, man.

Kenma slides in deeper, scrunches his nose in a way Kuroo knows means he’s wiggling his toes under the table. “If you catch a cold,” he mumbles, eyes flickering just once to his face, so Kuroo knows he’s serious, “I’m not taking care of you.”

“Harsh, Kenma, harsh,” he seethes, slowly slipping off his lonesome couch, the springs of the ratty cushion digging into his thigh. They need new furniture badly, but money is tight still, and last week’s budget had been blown on this kotatsu Kenma had wanted — so of course Kuroo had been unable to deny.

Kenma blinks once, looking up from his manga in question, when Kuroo eases in flush against Kenma’s back, pressing him to his chest as he gets settled. His frosted toes touch Kenma’s warm socks under the blanket, only because he’s curled his legs around his so they can properly stick to one another.

He prods the back of Kenma’s head. “Move over.” One half of the pillow quickly becomes his, though he’s not content with just one half and takes Kenma’s space as well, tucking his chin against the blonde’s neck to read over his shoulder.

Kenma pauses, finger lingering on the corner of the page, and Kuroo knows he’s waiting for him to finish reading even as he huffs, “The kotatsu’s big enough for both of us, you know. We don’t have to stick so close.”

“We don’t cuddle for warmth, obviously.” He prods him again, on his hip this time. “We cuddle because we love each other.”

Kenma blinks once, again, then rolls his eyes. “I don’t remember ever saying I love you…”

“Harsh, Kenma.”

But he’s grinning, fingers drawing patterns onto Kenma’s hip, lips occasionally caressing the shell of Kenma’s ear. It’s not a bad position to be tangled up in. Perhaps he would wait another month before considering sending their kotatsu to a dumpster demise.


Taking three quick steps towards the door Alfie placed the key in the lock before turning it softly as not to wake his girlfriend who was sleeping on the other side. Holding in a snicker a large smile spread across Joey’s face before Alfie jabbed him in the side, placing a finger to his lips as a signal for him to contain himself. If this plan was to work both boys knew that they would have to be very well disciplined as not to break their controlled exterior. 

Keep reading


by mldrgrl
for @stephanob​ who asked for prompt 78. “It’s almost midnight and you haven’t said anything cute at all.”

You can’t spend nearly all day, every day, with another person and not get a little annoyed once in awhile. Every so often, one or both of them would reach their limit of the other’s presence and things would come to a head.  Someone would break and maybe a fast-burning argument would burst forth out of the snap, but eventually it would just fade back to normal as though it never happened.

It was Scully’s turn in the cycle. For whatever reason, everything Mulder said that day really aggravated her. They’d spent four hours in the car together and all she’d heard the entire time from him were sarcastic barbs about the difficulties of dealing with their upcoming file audit and how pointless it all was.

“Would you just..” she said.

“Would I just?” he asked.

“The sound of your voice right now…” She shook her head and turned to look out the window.

“Makes you tingle in all the right places?”

“Makes me sick in all the wrong ones. Stop talking.”


She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.  “If you would please, just shut the hell up for the rest of the day, I would be grateful.”

He pursed his lips and then rubbed them together in silence.  After a few moments of brooding, he took one hand off the steering wheel and reached into his pocket.  The only sound for the rest of the drive was the cracking of sunflower seeds.

Mulder kept mum as Scully checked them into their motel. Their case was closed, this was merely a stopover on the way home.  Maybe she was so annoyed because it was already past dinner time and they still had a six hour drive ahead of them in the morning.

“What do you want for dinner?” she asked as they both unlocked the doors to their side-by-side room.

He held up a brochure for pizza delivery he’d picked up in the manager’s office and raised his brows.

“As long as half of it’s vegetarian,” she answered and he nodded before closing his door.

Not much more than half an hour later, there was a knock on the connecting door in Scully’s room. She opened it and Mulder held up a pizza box and a can of Diet Coke in front of her.  She took them both and then leaned into the doorway when he started to retreat.  There was a plate of pizza and a Coke already on his table.

“You don’t want to eat together?” she asked.

He shrugged and gestured towards the table in invitation.  She rolled her eyes a little and sighed.

“Okay, you’re mad at me,” she said. “I get it.”

He shook his head, smiling, and then reached up and drew his pinched index finger and thumb across his lips, twisted them slightly at the edge of his mouth and then flicked an imaginary key out into the ether.

“Fine,” she said.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She shut the connecting door and sulked, eating at her own table alone. It was nice not to have to fight for the remote and which of the 26 channels they were going to watch, but she would also have to admit that was just part of the fun at the end of the day.  It bothered her he was taking this so seriously.  That was one of the things she liked best about her partner - how unlikely he was to hold a grudge over their little spats.  Usually these things rolled off his shoulders so easily.

After dinner and a shower and making her way through two chapters of the paperback she’d brought along for the case, she decided to go to bed. She could hear the muffled sound from the TV in Mulder’s room, which was so common as to be a lullaby, but she didn’t sleep.  She tossed and turned and after looking at the clock for the umpteenth time, she got out of bed and knocked on his door.

The volume on the TV went low and she heard rustling. After a few more moments he opened the door and she looked past him to see the rumpled sheets, but the light and TV were on and he was bright eyed so she was pretty sure she didn’t wake him.

“May I come in?” she asked.

He opened the door wider and lifted his arm higher while keeping his grip on the frame.  She ducked under his arm and sat down on the edge of his bed, waiting for his trademark comment about fraternizing after hours in motel rooms, but he said nothing and crawled back into bed and adjusted the pillows behind his back against the headboard.

“Speak!” she commanded.

He smiled and shook his head.  She crossed her arms.

“Dammit Mulder, it’s almost midnight and you haven’t said anything cute at all.”

He raised his brows.

She sighed.  “You know what I mean.”

He reached his hand out and wiggled his fingers at her.  She twisted her shoulder away and he bent forward and grabbed her arm, tugging her up the bed towards him.  She put up a bit of resistance, but then acquiesced, scooting closer until she was sitting beside his hip.  He turned his puppy dog eyes on and lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss her wrist.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I love your voice.  I miss your voice.  Please, talk to me.”

He let go of her hand and tapped his bottom lip with one finger.  She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss and pulled back with an expectant look on her face.  He squinted in thought and then tugged on his ear before fluttering his fingers up her arm.

“I don’t want to play charades,” she said.

He kept fluttering his fingers and then waggled his brows at her until she rolled her eyes.

“Okay, Mulder,” she said.  “Your voice makes me tingle in all the right places.”

He pounced on her, sending her back onto the mattress giggling as he peppered her face with small kisses.  “Didn’t think I could do it, did you?” he asked.  

“Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“And disobey a direct order?”  He pulled his head back, feigning shock.  “Scully, I would never.  And by the way, Agent, you know there are rules about fraternizing in your partner’s motel room.”

She grinned.  “Rules are made to be broken, Agent Mulder,” she said, pulling him down for a kiss.

The End

For sourwolfsam bc she needs cheering up and fluff and most importantly cuddles and obviously a ficlet is the best thing to wake up to right?

The first thing Derek hears when he opens the door to his apartment is Stiles whining, “Derrrrreeeeek,” from the couch. His boyfriend is stretched out there, blanket covering his body and pillows surrounding him. 

Derek toes off his shoes before taking slow steps to the couch. He crouches in front of where he guesses Stiles’ face is. “You okay?” Derek asks softly, hand resting on the top of Stiles’ head over the blanket. 

The answer is a groan and his head pushing up into Derek’s. “That good, huh?” Derek laughs softly before pressing his lips the hard lump he thinks is his boyfriend’s head under the blanket. “I’m gonna order some pizza. Extra pineapple, right?” He’s not sure what he finds funnier: the fact that Stiles can’t see his mischievous smile or the very passionate “no, you heathen!”

Derek doesn’t get any fruit on the pizza. After he’s done ordering, he grabs their mattress off the frame and drags it into the living room. Moving the coffee table out of the way, he sets the mattress in between the couch and TV then grabs their blanket from the bed and their pillows. During all of it, Stiles keeps his head secure underneath the blanket, effectively shutting out the world. 

Once the nest is complete, Derek steps back up to the couch and leans down, sliding his arms under Stiles. “I’m going to pick you up now,” he warns, voice soft. Stiles still lets out a small squeak when he’s lifted. Derek sets him down onto the bed before climbing in next to him. He wraps his arms back around the blanket lump that is his boyfriend. The lump snuggles into him, a possible head nuzzling into Derek’s chest.

“You gonna come out soon?” Derek asks, keeping any judgment out of his voice. If anyone understands needing a day hiding from the world, Derek does.

Stiles shakes his head no but a hand sneaks out to latch onto Derek’s shirt. It’s progress. 

An hour later after they’ve eaten their pizza (Stiles expertly maneuvers the pizza under the blanket and into his mouth without ruining his fabric sanctuary), there are lips pressing against Derek’s neck. He looks down to see a mess of brown hair.

“Welcome back,” he whispers, kissing the top of Stiles’ head.

“Love you,” he mumbles against Derek’s neck, arms wrapping around him.

“Love you too. Now can I start Reign because I’ve been waiting for over an hour to see what happens next.”

Stiles leans his head back and gives Derek a small, private smile. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

Derek takes it as a yes and gets the remote.

anonymous asked:

Msr + arms

Medically speaking, Scully knows that they are just arms; three bones and an assortment of muscles and tendons that bridge the gap between his careful hands and the shoulders which too often carry the weight of the world they’ve inherited.

But there is more in the simple clasp of Mulder’s arms around her than in every medical textbook she ever read. 

Here is the spot where she hid from Pfaster, the reminder that she once shot him and was forgiven and the small scar from a childhood injection, this one visible though other memories cut much deeper. 

Here is the safety rope that pulled her back from a thousand disasters, the steadying hand in moments of weakness, the sharp elbow point of disagreement from meetings and  then thrust out in front of her to shield her from danger.

Here is her pillow, the weight that keeps her grounded in the night, the frame in which her head lies when he loves her in the dark, and under the skin his heartbeat, racing for her, for them both, the rhythm of their life driving his blood.

Perhaps they are just arms but she thinks of them as home.