and she is curling up to go to sleep

Perachel headcannons because… I can:

* After having to deal with people speaking in riddles, confusing prophecies and lies for so long, Percy can’t help but love how blunt Rachel is. Everyone else is a bit put off by it but nope, Percy finds it really comforting

* They kind of have a fascination with each other’s curls and have a habit of unconsciously playing with the others hair

* Rachel is the big spoon usually (he doesn’t like sleeping with his back exposed even after he’s lost his mortal point, and likes how safe and secure it makes him feel… also means he doesn’t have to try and fight with Rachel’s hair). She loves it

* She also loves it because she then gets to play with his hair which is really stimmy

* She also loves it when she can convince him to lie on her (he’s always worried he’ll squash her), the weight is amazing

* After a while they give up trying to organise dates and just go with the flow

* They have extremely different music tastes, but begin to appreciate to other’s after some time… doesn’t mean they don’t mess about by trying to turn their music up louder than the other’s while screaming about how good it is

* It’s easy to tell when Percy’s been with Rachel because he’ll always have at least one spot of paint on him

* They go all out for Halloween and Christmas, like, omg. Everyone is in awe and fear of just how much they get into those holidays

* Despite them both being really good cooks, they’re more likely to order food or go out

* At first Percy just came along to Rachel’s protests for support, but over time he actually found himself becoming as invested in them as Rachel

* Both of them are late risers, and are happy to lie there for a while, curled up together, until they’re functioning properly

* They have two cats (a russian blue called Shell and a ginger one called Misty) and spoil them to death

* Their flat is a complete and utter mess, with clothes, paint supplies, cat toys, stim toys and other things chucked all over the place

* Rachel is really short and chubby with freckles everywhere, and Percy absolutely loves it. She looks adorable and gives the best hugs

* When everything gets just too much, they’ll find the other and go sit at the bottom of the lake, just hugging and trying to relax

* (the lake is also a perfect place to go if you want to makeout and not be interrupted, they find)

* They’ve both got depression, and do their best to help each other 

* Paul gets Percy and Rachel into musical/theatre, and it gets slightly out of hand. It’s the only music they both like 

procraesthetics  asked:

I wonder what would happen if Dudley grew up in the wizarding world but still as a muggle? like kind of reverse AU where his parents are dead and he has to go to Lily for whatever reason? do you think he would become bitter like Petunia about magic?

Lily remembered her sister, how there had been a time she was curious and delighted about magic, before it slowly sank in that she could look and not touch.

The last thing Petunia had said to Lily before she died was a chilly goodbye, ending a holiday dinner where they’d had a shrieking row in the entryway. Petunia had said freak and Lily had hissed better than this, better than this being my whole fucking world, Tune, do you even see yourself, are you happy–

And now here was Dudley Vernon Dursley fussing himself to sleep as Lily walked the halls of the Godric’s Hollow house. His tiny soft hands with their tiny soft fingernails curled under her chin, the same way Harry always had.

She passed James, who was gently bouncing his way up the hall the opposite way. “I think he’s asleep,” James mouthed over Harry’s tousled head. His hair was the same mess, bent down to peer at his sleeping son.

Lily stopped where she stood, her nephew heavy on her chest, her husband smiling, her sister buried. “James,” she said. “How are we going to do this?”

“Oh,” he said. “Hey. Don’t you cry, you’ll start them off– unless you need to cry, I mean, you go ahead, hey, sweetheart, hey, it’s alright, you just let it out.” He stepped forward, shifting Harry gently to his other shoulder, and pressed his forehead to hers. “We tuck them in, okay, that’s what we do next. Then we go to our own bed, okay, and go to sleep, and when we wake up it’ll be a new day.”

“A new day,” she said. “Another day– James, that’s the– I’m so tired.”

“So let’s sleep. It’ll look better in the morning,” he said. “And if it doesn’t look better this morning, it’ll look better in the next one.”

“You promise?”

“Better than that. I’ll show you. Every day,” he said and kissed her cold forehead.

Dudley had not shown up on the Potters’ doorstep with the milk bottles. Lily had gotten a phone call from the landline she still had installed in Godric’s Hollow, about an accident, and she had gone down to the Muggle police station to identify the bodies.

The cupboard under the stairs was filled with spiders, broomsticks, and the sewing machine Lily’s mother had given her when she married James– that’s all. Dudley slept downstairs. Uncle Remus taught Dudley and Harry to knock out coded messages through the wall their rooms shared.

In the backyard, beside a rickety porch and an ambitious hedge, James taught them to fly– first on little tot brooms where their toes brushed the grass the whole time, then out of the barrels of practice brooms James used for lessons and coaching Little League Quidditch.

When the boys turned ten, five weeks apart, they both got shiny new Nimbuses on Dudley’s birthday (which came first), and a set of enchanted Quidditch balls on Harry’s, to share. The Bludgers were enchanted to be very kind but Dudley spent long afternoons whacking them far afield while Harry chased the Snitch at his back.

Harry had a scar on his forehead, like a jagged bit of lightning. Dudley had no scars– the car crash that had killed his parents hadn’t touched him where he sat strapped into a car seat in the back, chewing on a stuffed dinosaur toy.

Lily did not believe in lying to the children. She was bare years off being a child herself, and spare moments on the far side of a war. When Dudley asked about his parents, she told him there had been an accident. She pulled pictures off the shelf and wrote Petunia’s old university friends for more.

Photographs came by mailman, the images still and unnatural to Dudley’s eye. Every day he’d gone out to play, for years, he’d been waving at the picture near the back door of his aunt and uncle on their wedding day, and they waved back every time.

“She was very clever,” Lily said. “Your mom liked to know everything.”

“And my dad?”

“Vernon liked… cars?” James offered. “That’s the word, right, Lily?”

“I didn’t know him very well,” Lily said. “He liked drills, I think; he worked for a firm that made them, and he talked about that a lot.”

Dudley brushed his thumbs over the dull edges of the photos. When Lily went off to Auror headquarters the next morning for work, James bundled the boys up and took them on an impromptu invisible tour of Grunnings Drill Manufacturing Inc.

They tiptoed down halls and past water coolers and ringing fellytones. They held hands under the Cloak as they dodged around the machines on the manufacturing floor, thumping and pounding and whirring away loudly enough that Harry and Dudley could whisper to each other under the noise. An elevator took them all the way up to the top floor. Harry whistled cheerily and eerily along with the elevator music while the Muggles slowly edged toward the doors and pressed floor buttons lower than they’d originally wanted.

There were boxes and cabinets and folders and desks and staticky monitor screens full of numbers strewn in endless grids. “Merlin’s knuckles,” said Harry, who was seven and a half and rather proud of this expletive. “People can look at this all day, their whole lives, and not die?”

“Work is hard work,” said James.

“At least mum gets to curse things.”

“But my dad liked it?” Dudley said, peering at a white board that was bleeding enthusiastic marker. “There’s a lot of things, here. Maybe he liked knowing things, too.”

When the boys asked about the scar on Harry’s forehead, Lily and James looked at each other. “You know how sometimes we sit with Uncle Remus and talk about a war?” James said. “Or with Ms. Amelia or Mr. Mundungus.”

“Mr. Mundungus is kinda smelly,” Harry said helpfully.

“It’s not nice to say so though,” said James, and Lily made a face.

“Are we raising them to be nice?” Lily said.

“I’m trying,” said James.

“You talk about a war,” said Harry and shrugged. Dudley nodded.

“There was a very bad man, in those days,” said James.

“Voldemort,” said Lily, and James made a face.

“He was so scary a lot of people don’t like to say his name, even now,” said James. “And he was coming after us because we had been fighting against him, in the war. He came to the house and he tried to hurt you, Harry. But it didn’t work. It hurt him instead, and gave you that scar.”

“Is he going to come back?” said Dudley, who was paler than his normal pink.

“No one’s heard of him since then,” said Lily.

“Where were you?” said Harry, because all his life they had been right there.

“Oh,” said Lily, but her throat closed up.

“We were at Dudley’s mum and dad’s funeral,” said James. “Our friend– our friend Sirius was watching you two. The bad man, he came to the house. He. Well. I.”

“Sirius died,” said Lily, one hand squeezing James’s knee and the other reaching down to brush hair off Dudley’s forehead. “You lived, Harry, and Voldemort vanished. And that’s why sometimes people stare in the streets, baby.” James tweaked Harry’s collar absently.

Two days after they had buried Lily’s sister, the Potters had stood together in the first chills of November and buried James’s brother.

Sirius had been burned off the Black family tree years before. Lily and James had talked to his cousin Andromeda, to Remus, and then they had laid him to rest in the Potter family plot. At the wake, they’d told old jokes about squirrel breath, shedding, and man’s best friend. Remus had fallen asleep on their couch and stayed for a month.

It took a two hour row with HR for Lily to get two passes to the Ministry’s Bring Your Kid To Work Day.

“He’s a Muggle.”

“He’s not,” Lily snapped. “He’s family.”

She had to get permission, sign a million forms, and she also had to take the boys in early so that Dudley could get smothered in the spells that would keep the Anti-Muggle wards around the Ministry from activating on him. “If a Muggle stumbles in somehow, they just see a funny-smelling supply cabinet and turn back around,” Lily told Dudley. He nodded and dragged Harry off by the wrist to go look at the fountain.

The windows were pouring sunlight into the underground room– the maintenance workers had just gotten a win on their contract negotiations and had banished the grimy rain-spattered windows of the previous weeks. The light hit the falling water, the golden statues, and the small excitable crowd of Ministry dependents who were gathering in the atrium. Dudley was fishing about in the fountain for Knuts to toss back out again, elbow-deep, and Harry was laughing and coming up with weird wishes to make on them.

Lily hadn’t said son. She’d said family, and that was true enough, wasn’t it? She didn’t say son– she had a son, and she had a nephew, a ward, another child who came to her after nightmares and scraped knees. It was not less, it was just words.

Lily worried about stealing more things from Petunia. Tuney had shrieked at her, in ladies’ restrooms and suburban foyers, had hissed at her in grocery store aisles and family dinners, because Lily got everything. And now Lily had her son.

Lily could just imagine it– could just see Petunia’s face twisting and chin stabbing at the air. You could have anything, and you took my son– my son!

“You left him to me,” Lily whispered, but that wasn’t quite right. “You left,” she whispered, and that wasn’t quite right either, so she strode off toward the fountain to ask the boys if they wanted to go see the Auror spellwork ranges. Dudley’s sodden shirt sleeves dripped all over the Ministry floors. Harry’s hair fell down into his eyes and they both grinned bright enough to rival the spelled sunlight.

Keep Reading (Ao3)

Keep reading

hear me out now

polydins

pidge, shiro, lance, hunk, and keith all in a happy, healthy, consensual relationship with one another where none of them feels less or more significant. they all love and value each other equally, no one is more favoured than anyone else. 

  • they all share one room now. they moved into a suite on the castleship because it has a bed big enough for all of them to snuggle in
  • everyone fights for a spot next to hunk at night because he is absolutely the king at snuggling
  • shiro is surprisingly petty during these scuffles. dudes got sharp elbows
  • pidge is too smart to take part in the fighting - while the others are squabbling, she curls right up under hunk’s arm and they watch together
  • hunk doesn’t stop it because it makes him feel loved
  • shiro still suffers from ptsd on a very severe level and wakes frequently from his sleep with night terrors
  • he used to dread that - waking up and trying to calm himself down, but he could never really go back to sleep
  • now it’s better. the night terrors still happen with as much frequency, but by the time he wakes up he’s aware that he couldn’t be more safe
  • he’s sleeping surrounded by four paladins of voltron
  • one of them could enslave the entire universe with just her laptop
  • one can bench press him for six solid hours and never get tired
  • one is capable of cutting through an entire squad with one hand tied behind his back
  • and one could plan all of those events in his sleep, and shoot a fly from across a football field with his eyes shut
  • and each time it happens, all four of them wake up and crowd in close to him and snuggle him all over. they press kisses against every inch of him and they hold his hands 
  • lance will sing sometimes
  • after the first few weeks of initial awkwardness abt their relationship, they all become surprisingly touchy feely with each other
  • they’re always touching (esp. always touching shiro somehow)
  • voltron becomes stronger than ever
  • keith and lance don’t stop arguing but it’s mostly just because they’re used to it now
  • it typically ends in really steamy makeouts
  • shiro and pidge like to watch it all dissolve
  • shiro initiates afternoon naps like all the time
  • when lance is feeling insecure (read: always) they make it their personal mission to shower him with affection
  • shiro will scoop him up and kiss him till he goes red in the face 
  • hunk and pidge are a force to be reckoned with when they get Ideas
  • keith loves kissing hunk and will do so every chance he gets
  • lance is the only one who can convince pidge to sweep everything off her workbench and make out 
  • after a hard battle, shiro isn’t content until he can drag every one of his paladins into a pile and spend at least an hour decompressing
  • as long as hes got physical contact with each of them then he’ll be okay
  • they’re all in love with each other okay
  • all of them are in love with all of them and they wouldn’t have it any other way
  • nsfw headcanons later? obviously
The Photograph

Hi babes! This is a fluffy oneshot about Peter having a crush on one of Michelle’s friends at Midtown High. One day, he spots her reading outside and secretly takes a photo of her because he thinks that she looks too perfect to go unseen, and he pins the photo up in the back of his locker. Everything is fine until Flash Thompson gets his hands on Peter’s photo and brings it to her attention. After that, awkward cuteness ensues and I hope that you all like it!

The Photograph

Hot licks of pain seared throughout Peter’s body. His lip was split, there was a purpling bruise on his temple that was accompanied by a headache so powerful that it’s aching refused to be ignored. Even walking from class to class was taking a toll on Peter. He was exhausted and in pain, but Peter remained hellbent on keeping Queens safe, no matter the cost.  

    Peter’s eyes glazed over and his body was ready to shut down. Doing his best to keep himself up on his feet, he focused on the photo that he had tacked up of her in the back of his locker.

    In the photo, the girl was outside, hidden beneath the shade of a rather large tree. She was stretched out on a light pink blanket, a copy of Charles Baudelaire’s, ‘The Flowers of Evil,’ open in front of her. There was a carton of fresh strawberries and a rather oversized iced coffee balanced haphazardly against her backpack on the ground with her, and every so often, Peter recalled how delightedly blissful she looked each time she bit into a ripe berry. The sun’s rays, the soft breeze wandering through the tree’s leaves, and the chatter bumbling down to her from their shared high school didn’t even faze the girl. Her mind remained with the poet’s.

    After a few minutes of watching her, Peter felt soothed. Everything about her made him feel better. He loved the way she licked her lips after she ate, he loved the way that she read her favorite verses aloud, he loved the way that she laughed at herself when she nearly spilled her coffee, and he loved the way that she helped him forget about the constant stress that was now heavily present in his life.

    When Peter finally snapped the photo, she was laying on her side, one hand wound into her silky hair to keep it out of her eyes, and the other hand holding her poetry book open. Her eyes were focused on comprehending the poems on each page, but she wore a soft smile on her lips that made it clear that she wasn’t scrutinizing anything too intensely. The girl was merely enjoying her free period in the sun and Peter longed to do the same.

    Since then, Peter looked for her in almost every hallway, in every classroom window, and everyday at lunch. They’d spoken a handful of times, seeing as they were in the same history class, but other than class discussions, Peter hadn’t mustered up the nerve to say hello outside of an intellectual, in-class debate.

    One day, she was late to history and when she’d walked into the room, she found that her normal seat next to the window had been taken, so she headed towards the first empty desk she saw. Peter, already occupying one of the seats, nearly suffered a heart attack when she placed her binder next to his and offered him a quiet “good morning.”

    It had taken Peter a few seconds to force his brain to form a response to her and then to get his mouth to open and say the words that his brain was attempting to communicate back to her. When he stuttered out, “hey, yeah, good morning,” she didn’t tease him for his weirdness, instead she smiled at him and Peter could’ve melted onto the floor right then and there.

    During that day’s lecture, their teacher was detailing women’s struggles throughout the years to gain the 19th amendment, which won women of all colors, and social standings the right to vote. She scribbled down notes and nodded in agreement with the teacher as she spoke of Ida B. Well’s, Lucy Burns’ and Alice Paul’s courageous actions in the suffrage movement. It was only after Flash Thompson opened his mouth that Peter observed a frown cross over her features.

    “Why didn’t they just keep doing what Florence Kelley advised? If they had followed her directions, they wouldn’t have gotten radical and thrown into prison. Florence Kelley was meeting with President Woodrow Wilson, and he explained to her why he couldn’t grant women suffrage right then, but he said he would going forward. The National Women’s Party didn’t know what they were doing, and furthermore, they set the women’s rights movement back with their crazy antics.” Flash finished, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair.

    Glancing over at the girl in the chair next to him, Peter knew that not only was Flash painfully incorrect and uneducated, but she was clearly getting ready to put Flash back into his place.

    “Wow, that’s actually so, so, so wrong.” She started, turning slightly in her chair to face Flash, “if Florence Kelley had kept asking President Wilson to recognize women as intelligent, reasonable beings capable of making a decisive decision, it’s unlikely that the 19th amendment would’ve been passed in 1920. The only reason women were granted suffrage is because of The National Woman’s Party. These women marched, were beaten in the streets, picketed in front of the White House, and were thrown into jail for the good of women everywhere. President Wilson only granted women the right to suffrage after women were dying in prison due to the hunger strike Alice Paul began. Not to mention, while these women were imprisoned, they were denied basic human rights and the entire reason they were in locked away in jail was because they were blocking traffic on the sidewalk. It took drastic measures to humanize women in men’s eyes and without the heroic antics of these women, who knows where women would stand today. I mean, a woman’s right to her own body is something that could be taken away at any moment, and women are constantly battling the image that men have imposed upon us. Therefore, your opinion is invalid because you apparently cannot grasp the severity of the situation, past and present.”

    Peter, as well as the rest of the class, was stunned into silence. Normally, she didn’t partake in class discussions because she was shy, but now that she had, everyone in the room was shocked by the intellect that she had just destroyed Flash with. Peter wanted nothing more than to hear her speak all day, and maybe to introduce her to Aunt May.

    Peter could barely focus as Michelle began to back her up. Leaning closer to the wonderfully insightful girl next to him, Peter let her know just how clever he found her. “That was amazing, everything you said was perfect and spot-on. That was the greatest thing that I’ve ever seen and I can’t wait for you do it again.” Peter congratulated the girl.

    “You don’t think it was too much?” She asked worriedly, biting her lip and fiddling with the pencil in her hands.

    Peter shook his head, his eyes wide, “No, no! Absolutely not! You would’ve made Alice Paul very proud.”

    Placing a hand atop of his, she thanked him with a smile. “You’re the best, Peter,” she said before turning her focus back to their teacher.

    After that, she had joined Peter on Flash’s hit-list, so Peter should’ve known better than to try and relax with his locker wide open. Peter was knocked out of his daydream of going home to her and simply curling up around her to sleep by Flash’s grabby hand, first shoving him out of the way, and then stealing his photo of her.

    As Flash rushed down the hall, Peter struggled after him, both boys trying to beat each other to where she stood deep in conversation with Michelle about the numerous male authors whose most famous novels were stolen works from their wives.

    “Flash, don’t” Peter shouted, as he tried to ignore the shooting pain traveling up his body.

    “Too late, Penis Parker,” Flash called as he weaved gracefully inbetween students to get to their target.

    “Oh my gosh,” Michelle muttered, rolling her eyes as she nodded her head towards the two boys heading their way. “Losers.”

    “His lip is bleeding,” She said, concern lacing into her tone. “Do you think he’s okay?”

    “Your boyfriend is fine, probably tripped over a lego or something on his way to the bathroom and banged his head into the wall on his way down.” Michelle tried to reason with her friend. She’d detected that her friend and Peter had the biggest of crushes on one another way before either one of them had, and she had made it her mission to mock them every chance she got.

    Flash was the first to reach the two girls, holding up the photo of her that Peter had taken of her reading outside. “Parker, Penis.” He wheezed, “Penis Parker took this picture of you and had it taped up behind his textbooks in his locker.” Bending over to soothe the splint in his side, Flash handed the photo to the confused girl in front of him.

    As Peter came to a stop in front of her and Michelle, he groaned and threw his hands up into the air, uttering a barely audible, “fuck.”

    When the girls saw Peter up close, they found that Peter was barely recognizable due to all of the bruises masking his pale skin. Quickly handing the photo to Michelle, the girl surged forward, lightly grabbing onto Peter’s sweater to steady him. “Peter, what happened to you? You’re hurt,” she questioned, growing a little more distraught as she studied him face to face.

    “The picture, I’m sorry, I know it’s so creepy. I didn’t mean to be a weirdo and I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, I swear that I’m not stalking you.” Peter mumbled, trying unsuccessfully to keep his lip from bleeding.

    “Peter, I don’t care about the photo. What happened to you? Oh no, your lip is bleeding,” She rambled, steering Peter towards the bench nearest to them. “Sit,” she instructed, digging through her backpack for a tissue to dab Peter’s cut with.

    “You’re seriously not going to say anything about the picture he clearly took of you?” Flash whined, refusing to accept defeat.

    Michelle raised her eyebrows, “No, I think it’s disturbing too. You’re not alone in that, Flash.”

    “Do you need ice?” She asked Peter, guiding Peter to look up so she could inspect his face for any further damage. “You need ice, Michelle, could you please go get him ice? Flash, could you please go away?” She asked, looking at the pair over her shoulder.

    Flash was nearly beside himself, “it’s weird! You have to acknowledge that it’s weird that he not only took a photo of you without your knowledge, but that he has it pinned up like you are his girlfriend or something? Really not going to say anything about that?”

    “For all you know,” she said, turning to face Flash as she did that day in class, “Peter could very well be my boyfriend!”

    Peter’s jaw dropped so far that she had to readjust his head to keep the tissue on his open wound. Gently prying her helping hand from his lip, “wait, really?” Peter asked. “You’d be my girlfriend after all this?”

    “This is disgusting,” Michelle interjected. Handing Peter’s photo back to him, she grabbed Flash by the collar of his polo shirt and dragged him down the hallway. “We’ll be back with ice and some band-aids.”

    She and Peter could hear Flash’s discontented grumbles as he followed Michelle down to the nurse’s office to retrieve some medical aid for Peter.

    “Are you really not freaked out?” Peter asked, staring up at her with big, brown, puppy-dog eyes.

    Sighing, she moved to stand in between Peter’s legs to inspect how much further his lip had split. “If you keep talking, the cut is never going to heal. This,” she gestured to Peter’s clearly damaged frame, “freaks me out more than anything. What’s happening to you? If I can help you, please let me. I care about you and I hate that you’re hurt.” She pouted.

    She was so close that Peter could smell all the floral notes in her perfume, and if he wanted to, he could hug himself close to her and never let go. “I can’t tell you what’s happening, but if I stop, things will get worse. Not just for me, but for everyone. I’m trying to help.”

    Running a hand through his hair, she shook her head. “Then let me help you. If you’re helping everyone, you deserve to have someone help you, and I want you to let me be that person, Peter.”

    Pinching the palm of his hand, Peter spotted Flash and Michelle returning with ice, ointment and bandages in hand, and he knew that he had to be quick. “It would really help me if you went out to dinner with me. Just being with you would help me. That’s why I took the picture of you. Every day that I felt like I was drowning, I would look at you, well the picture of you, and it would help me to breath again.”

    “Pick me up on Saturday. I’ll be ready at 7:30,” she agreed, much to not only Peter’s, but Flash’s surprise.

    “Come on!” Flash hissed, “how is it that Parker gets a date with a hot girl after he hides in the bushes and takes secret pictures of her? What the hell is going on right now? Do I live in the twilight zone?”

    “For fucks sake, Flash.” Michelle muttered, turning to him with squared shoulders, “she clearly knew that he was taking the photos of her. Who would smile while reading ‘The Flowers of Evil?’ And beyond that, she’s liked him for months and he’s liked her for months. All you’ve really done is finally bring them closer together. Congratulations Flash, your plan has officially backfired.”

    Flash groaned throughout the rest of the day and Michelle planned on teasing him for the rest of the school year. The girl’s cheeks were flushed pink until she went to sleep, and Peter couldn’t stop smiling, even though it only made the split in his lip worse.

   


P.O.V (Christian Yu AMBW Smut)

This is for my friend @silhouetted-beauty I hope you enjoy it~ as well as the rest of my lovely followers. 

“C-Christian!” You cried out looking up at the male, tears of pleasure raking down your face as he shined the camera onto you, his length brushing into your abused pussy once again. He groaned watching you pull on the rope that bound your wrist together above your head. Your chocolate body covered with sweat, your hair plastered everywhere and the lust that was full blown in your pupils as you watched him. He pushed until he was fully buried inside of you.

“Come on be a big girl and take all of me. You’ve been doing well so far.” The way he spoke it to you, in that accent of his with a crooked cocky smirk had you ready to cum again. Nodding your head, you licked over your parted lips letting him bend one of your legs bad, the camera slowly tilting down to roam over your body, he wanted to capture every moment with you, watching through the lens as he slipped outside of your pussy, some of his cum escape your insides again as he pushed back inside of you causing you both to groan out in pleasure.

~

How it happened was simple, but then again nothing was too complicated when it came to the both of you. Christian came inside of your shared bedroom, plopping down next to you on the sheets he looked over to see you on your tablet swiping through the candy crush game. He waited a bit hoping that you would take notice that he was there, but when you didn’t, he became needy for your attention. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing on the skin there before trailing his lips towards your shoulder causing you to laugh.

“Christian. Don’t you know how hard this level is.” You huffed slightly trying to squirm away from him as your fingers continued to glide across the screen. You had been stuck on this level for weeks now and it seemed you were going to win but he kept fucking with you kissing on the spots he knew would make you wet in a matter of seconds.

“I love that you always play so hard to get, when we both know you’ll be under me begging me not to stop.” He teased kissing down your exposed arm towards your wrist.

“That’s the damn problem!” You insisted maneuvering away from his advance to jump off the bed. Your large shirt coming to rest past your ass, because you were too lazy to put on clothes half the time, at this moment you were shocked that you had on panties because even undergarments were a hassle. Christian chuckled watching you scurry away from him, moving to walk into the front room of the condo with a smile on his lips. He laid back on his bed looking up at the mirror pouting as he looked at his reflection, his wild curls falling everywhere.

“I’m so jealous of you.” He spoke to the mirror. “You get to see her beauty while I’m away and she never fights you off.” He almost whined like a child.

“That’s because the mirror can’t harm me.” You muttered under your breath going to drape your body across the couch. It took you a good twenty minutes before you were jumping up and shouting with joy at the fact that you beat the level. Christian who had been staring out the window drifting off to sleep stood up and treaded towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist after he did a quick check out of your body.

“I’m so proud of my jagi.” He cooed in a deep voice that was becoming raspy due to the mood he was in.

“I’m proud of me too. Hard work pays off.” You stuck out your tongue but gave in this time letting him pull you down onto his lap on the couch. He chuckled softly as he kissed your cheeks.

“Yeah being a game addict sure pays off.” He rolled his eyes tickling your sides.

“Hey! HEY! Would you rather I be addicted to someone else?!” You questioned as you gripped at his hands, he chuckled moving to lay you down onto the couch looking down at you.

“I would rather you were addicted to me.” He frowned leaning down to press soft kisses against your lips, cupping your cheeks gently.

“Mmm, getting addicted to you means that I will never let you go.” You wrinkled your nose slightly and he leaned forward to bite onto your jaw humming.

“Baby, I will take you to work with me no problem but don’t act like that’s a reason. You don’t like how weak I make you.” He gripped your chin, looking up at you with a smile. Your insides churned because he was right, but you didn’t like admitting that he had that much power over you with his cute kissable lips, and defined muscles littered with tattoos. Huffing slightly, you nodded agreeing with him but not saying the words. He only laughed louder, peppering your face with kisses before he pulled back.

“So, I’ve been thinking..” He started and you just stare at him.

“What now oh dear love of mine?” You asked in a teasing tone lifting an eyebrow, he chuckled at your teasing nature, playing in your hair.

“Well, I want to shoot a video.” He said and you didn’t know why but your just let little strings of giggles slip past your lips as you watched him until he went quiet not saying anything.

“Baby, forgive me for laughing but don’t you do that always? You just shoot two videos this week.” You brought your hand up to play in his hair as well.

“That’s not what I mean love. I want to film you.” He stated with a cocky smirk.

“I don’t sing or dance. I pole dance but that’s it.” You shrugged lightly not liking the fact that he was still smirking at you. “What!!” You asked again trying to sit up but he pulled you back down.

“I mean, okay. I want to film you. Film us while we are having sex, I want to capture it all.” He bit on your bottom lip tugging it softly.

“What- oh hell no! What if it gets leaked? What if someone breaks in and steals it and leaks it? What if you play it around your boys and they take pictures!” You were beyond anxious about what he had said to you. And hating the fact that your pussy was slightly becoming dampened from the idea of him filming the both of you.

“Hey, calm down. Baby you know that I wouldn’t leak my work, whatever happens DPR and I both go down. That’s my group too and I can’t risk that. I won’t say that I wouldn’t use a piece like maybe you on my lap but they wouldn’t be able to see your face. And if you didn’t want them to see at all they won’t see. I don’t want them needing an excuse to try and take you from me anyways. Who the hell is going to get passed Lori? She is sweet but she will be aggressive when necessary. Just like her mommy.” He cooed burying his face in your neck with a sigh. “Please baby? Please y/n. I won’t show anyone I promise, I just want to capture shit I don’t get to see when I’m so wrapped up in you. And who knows we may laugh at it. Don’t you want to see the faces we make? If the sex is as good as we think it is? You could even show me what I need to improve on.” He urged slightly pressing more kisses on your neck. You thought about it, sighing as you looked up to the ceiling. It wouldn’t hurt to try it, Christian had sometimes pissed you off but he never did anything to make you mad. You chewed on your bottom lip, looking back at him you thought for a few long minutes while he kissed on your skin. He did have a lot of shit at stake, maybe even more than you since he was the one in the limelight.

“I will seriously consider breaking up with you if you let this get out.” You promised silently grabbing his chin making him look you in the eyes to know you were telling the truth. He nodded looking at you in your eyes.

“I won’t ever hurt you baby. I promise.” You nodded your head leaning close to press your lips against his softly causing him to release a groan as he kissed you back, he moved to pull back from you and lift you up in his arms carrying your body bridal style into the room. He dropped you down onto the bed moving to grab at his video camera, turning it on letting it slowly load.

Once he had it ready he hit record placing the camera on the bed facing you. Christian watched you as he went to his computer hitting play on the ‘Movie Shoot’ song he directed with Loco and DPR Live. You laughed softly feeling your cheeks heat up as well as a rise in your heart rate. You were so nervous and he wasn’t making it any better. He walked to the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his dark blue shirt slowly letting it slide off his body. Your eyes were greedy taking in the sight before him, how he was toned and defined. Your eyes changed quickly, your teeth tucking your bottom lip between them as you watched him. He chuckled as his hands moved down to grip at his pants undoing them and pushing them down he stepped out leaving his boxers on. He reached under the bed to grab at the red bondage rope that you liked to play with sometimes. He crawled on the bed, kissing up your legs slowly switching sides as his warm large hands came to part your smooth thighs. He flicked his tongue against your panties smirking at how your hips twitched lightly. He bit onto the fabric causing you to release a shaky moan, your hands moving to comb through his hair. You watched him grip at your shirt and push it up your body until you were helping him pull it off, and throw it across the room. Your bare chest on display for him, one of your pierced nipples already puckered and past hard. He leaned down to kiss at it, your head tilting slightly because you loved feeling his lips on your skin.

He moved to let you straddle him, kissing you deeply, as your hands trailed up and down his built body over the taught muscles and ink under your fingertips. You broke the kiss to run you tongue across his neck and his adams apple going to his chest to lick across the ink. He groaned slightly as your lips continued to kiss and guide your tongue against every ounce of his tattoos that you could find. Your hips were pushing down against his, a slow grinding session between the two of you. He gripped at your hair yanking your head back so that he could suck on your skin, his hand gripping at your hips to push you down. Once he felt he was becoming too needy he flipped you over staring down at you.

“Hands up baby.” He instructed and you nodded your head, placing your hands up above your head against the headboard. He used the red rope to bind your wrist and lope around to tie it sturdily against the headboard, you looked up at the bow he knitted, seeing that you were stuck in place you made up your mind to just enjoy it. Christian leaned close kissing your lips gently, he nibbled on your bottom lip as the two of you made out, taking the kiss slow at first and let it build up to become more heated and needy. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands moved to grope at your breast, flicking his fingers against your nipples, your back arched as you moaned out, opening your mouth you let him dominate the kiss. Swirling his tongue around yours, pulling it into his mouth he nibbled on it gently pulling back with a wet pop. He kissed down your body burying his face into your neck to suck hickeys onto your skin, letting his mouth roam over all of your spot, trying to earn those sweet needy moans from your lips. Soon he was cupping your breast together letting his tongue press against the hardened buds wrapping his lips around them to give harsh sucks, he bit down lightly onto your skin, watching as your body arched and you couldn’t contain the little whimpers that left your lips as he pleased you. He let his lips trail down your body, licking and nipping around your belly button. He watched you through his wild hair that fell into his eyes, he gripped at your panties pulling them down your thighs, he let them fly across his room to join your shirt. He moved to grab at your favorite vibrator using his arms to press your legs down against the bed, he puckered his lips to blow air onto your pussy causing you to inhale sharply fisting your hands. You nodded your head telling him to continue, he gripped at the camera pulling it close to the both of you, he leaned his head down dipping his tongue inside of you slowly, he pushed it deep until he couldn’t push anymore flicking it inside of you. He moaned against your heat, thrusting his tongue in and out, curving it he searched for your spot swirling his tongue around your dripping pussy. He let his lips wrap around your pussy sucking on it, pulling his tongue from your entrance and he flicked it up and down your slit before he wrapped it around your clit, sucking harshly at it, he gripped at the camera moving it to stare at your face instead of him, he smirked happy to capture your reactions. Your hands twisting in the rope and your back arching as you looked down at him. Your thighs tried to shut, but he wasn’t having it, he nipped on your pussy lips, pulling them with his teeth. He pulled back to turn on your vibrator pressing the head against your clit, he watched as you let out a cry of pleasure, your bottom lip quivering. He moved it up and down slowly, leaning down to flick his tongue against your entrance groaning as he kissed on your pussy trying to pleasure you. He grabbed the camera placing it on his chest to film you, biting on his bottom lip he watched you as he switched the knob to medium speeding up his arm motions to make the vibrator press harder against your clit. He only kept the camera up for a bit before he was placing it back down on the bed, he moved it back to focus on both of you, slipping two fingers inside of you, he plunged them in and out of your hole, twisting them slightly he groaned watching you buck your hips up. Your pussy squeezed around his fingers, you could feel all the wetness slide out of you and onto the mattress and his fingers. Your mouth dropped open as you lay there against the headboard tugging harder on the rope throwing your head back. He made you feel so good, his fingers were thick and they stretched you out in the most delicious ways.

He made sure to always bury himself knuckles deep, making sure he was stretching you out. He let his finger slip inside of your ass giving you a shocker, feeling both of your holes up as his hand started to move faster inside of you.

“Christian please!” You shouted out, already feeling needy and ready for the foreplay to end.

“Be good.” He stated licking over his bottom lip, it was killing him too, you could see the tint in his pants but he was always focused on taking care of you. Thrusting his hand at a particular angle he hit your spot causing you to cry out.

“Like that?” He asked and you nodded your head. “Do you like that baby doll? Do you like how daddy feels both of your holes?” He questioned earning slight whimpers of yeah from your lips.

“This fucking pretty pussy takes it so well. I love your pussy so much baby.” He groaned leaning turning the vibrations on high, your hips sputtered and you felt your body react. Tightening up you released a cry of pleasure, as your orgasm swept through your body. He didn’t stop, releasing a slight growl he continued to thrust his fingers in and out of your rapidly, he watched as your body writhed under him, legs thrashing as you tried to get a reprieve. Your stomach tightened up again, your walls were clamping down on his fingers, he smirked letting his arms surge forward, his biceps were coming on display the veins in his muscles became on display. Your head rolled to the side, crying out his name as your orgasm rippled through you again, not only cumming but you were squirting as well getting his forearm wet as well as the sheets under you. Only then did he remove his fingers away from your pussy to suck on them as well as the one inside of your ass. He smirked down at you as he cleaned up his limbs flicking his tongue across your body lip. He moved off the bed, pushing his boxers down until they were at his ankles he stepped out of them, crawling back on the bed, he knocked your legs wide with his own, he gripped at his camera moving to press his cock against your entrance. He smirked as he looked down at you. “Come on, fuck yourself on me, you can push down on it.” He was stern and playful at the same time.

You pushed down on him, groaning as he entered inside of you. You pushed your hips down until you were burying him inside of you, with his help of course. Once he was inside of you, you pulled your hips back as much as you could before pushing your hips down, whining in frustration because he was living in this moment, letting the camera looking at your body bouncing on his member as he groaned, his eyes going up to your breast watching them bounce as well. He groaned shutting his eyes trying to let you do all the work but he just couldn’t leave you alone he had to have more of you. Christian gripped your hip with one hand, he started to slam inside of you causing you to scream out, your wrists were becoming raw from how you tried to move, but you loved the bite you just knew he would yell at you for harming yourself. Christian leaned down to press his forehead against yours, pressing the video camera down on the bed he used both of his hands to grip at your hips as he pulled you down onto him. You were in complete bliss, your stomach tightened harshly as you felt your orgasm approach again. You were sensitive and you felt like the sensitivity was going to make you cry.

“Christian- I’m close I can’t cum anymore.” You whimpered out screwing your eyes shut. He moved his arm to press his fingers against your clit rubbing it harshly. He was winding his hips against yours. You slowly opened your eyes to look up at him puckering your lips for a kiss, he leaned down to give it to you as your orgasm swept through your body once again, this time Christian came with you filling you to the brim as he let it held you close to his body. He groaned feeling your essence on his cock, pulling back slowly from you he watched as you shuddered and tried to calm down. He let you breathe for a few seconds, sweat sticking to his forehead, he moved to bend down pressing kisses along the curve of your hips biting into your ass cheek. Grabbing the camera, he tilted it up to the mirror, holding it there he pushed inside of you again slowly.

“C-Christian!” You cried out looking up at the male, tears of pleasure raking down your face as he shined the camera onto you, his length brushing into your abused pussy once again. He groaned watching you pull on the rope that bound your wrist together above your head. Your chocolate body covered with sweat, your hair plastered everywhere and the lust that was full blown in your pupils as you watched him. He pushed until he was fully buried inside of you.

“Come on be a big girl and take all of me. You’ve been doing well so far.” The way he spoke it to you, in that accent of his with a crooked cocky smirk had you ready to cum again. Nodding your head, you licked over your parted lips letting him bend one of your legs bad, the camera slowly tilting down to roam over your body, he wanted to capture every moment with you, watching through the lens as he slipped outside of your pussy, some of his cum escape your insides again as he pushed back inside of you causing you both to groan out in pleasure.

Christian moved slowly, in and out of you husky groans slipping past his lips as he watched himself continuing to slide inside of you. He put the camera down for the last time, he kissed up your body until his arms were wrapping around your waist and he was grinding deep inside of you. He kept it slow, letting your hips brush against each other as he buried himself with each stroke. He groaned against your warm skin, feeling his cock pulse with release but he was intent on getting you off first. His hands gripped at your ass cheeks, one finger pressing against the puckered entrance while your lips met once again. He was riding you, his hips brushing against your sensitive clit, your hands balled into fists as your pussy wrapped around cock. This round was the longest but cumming so many times back to back wasn’t easy on your body since you didn’t always go this many rounds.

You moaned for him, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist letting the heels of your foot press against his lower back. He kept thrusting, erratically and picking up the speed as he became needier. With three more strokes, he had you full out sobbing as you released for him, your hips pushing back but his hands pulled you back forward, his cock pushing so dep it hit your cervix. He spilled his cum inside of you one last time, pausing his hips as he broke the kiss to get a breath of air. Your eyes searched each other and he gave you a lazy smile pressing kisses all over your face.

“Thank you, baby.” He said sincerely nuzzling your noses together, pulling out of you he reached up to undo your wrists, turning off his camera he moved it back to his dresser, he moved to lay back beside you pulling your drained body against his playing in your hair.

“We are watching it later.” You huffed and he nodded kissing your forehead.

“Anything to keep you off candy crush.” He teased with a bright smile.

princevolker2788  asked:

Dragon Age: Inquisition companions reacting to a young inquisitor (3 to 9) asking if they can sleep next to them after a nightmare concerning Redcliffe Castle. Especially if said companions were the ones who died protecting them as Dorian brought them back to the present.

Cassandra: She blinks at them through the darkness of night, and after a moment’s hesitation, consents and allows it. She’s awkward, but they go to sleep quickly, feeling safe near her. She eventually drifts off as well, feeling pity for the young one.

Iron Bull: He’s a little worried he’ll roll over on them, so he lays there motionlessly as they cuddle up against him and quietly go to sleep. He eventually drifts off, frozen in place, minding the spot the child chose to sleep in against him.

Blackwall: Awkwardly, he shrugs and allows it, unsure of himself as the child curls up against him and goes to sleep. He had heard about what happened in Redcliffe, and he understands their wanting to be with someone, but… him? He feels peace settle over him as the child begins to snore, quiet pride and quiet duty, and he follows suit.

Sera: She wordlessly pulls open the cover and lets them crawl in, and the two sleep soundly as she gently puts an arm over them to reassure them that she is real and they are safe.

Varric: He allows it, for once quiet as slumber threatens to take him back. He grunts as they push against him, and he relinquishes a sigh. “You’re safe, kid. We’re all okay.” The words settle them as much as he wishes it would settle his nerves, and he drifts off as they do.

Cole: He doesn’t sleep, but he lies down and lets the child cuddle up against him. “Warm and comforting, arms of love pulling me close, warding demons off, you feel safe. You are safe. I’ll do my best.” He lies there as long as they sleep, and feels happy for doing so– he helped.

Dorian: He’s a little worried and unsure of how exactly to comfort them. “Are you sure you want to sleep in my bed? Not with Cassandra or… someone else?” he asks warily. The child insists and crawls under the sheets. Dorian sits there for a moment, a bit befuddled, but the child starts drawing quiet little breaths as they fall to sleep, and he follows suit quietly.

Solas: He quietly allows it. “Come, da’len; I will ensure no demons serve you nightmares. The majesty of the Fade will guide us to peaceful slumber.” His words soothe them, and both drift off in peace.

Vivienne: Normally, she would adamantly refuse, but the child is teary and shaking, so she sighs and lifts the sheet up. “Don’t plan on making a habit of this.” she warns. At the same time, she feels something bubbling in her chest, something like warmth and quiet pride, and she drifts off to sleep peacefully.

Josephine: Like Sera, she quietly holds the sheets open, remembering times she had to do this with Yvette or any of her younger siblings. She has performed this duty many times, one of comfort and love, and she feels their panic fading away as they curl up against her. Both drift off quickly.

Leliana: Without so much as a word or a glance up, she holds the sheet up and allows them in before drifting off to sleep, her arm settling over them quietly. They feel extra safe– nothing can hurt them when the Spymaster is there.

Cullen: He’s half-asleep, and a bit too incoherent to process what’s going on, but he gives in. He finds the next morning that his own nightmares were fewer and of less intensity, and he only prays the poor child felt safer, too.

Here’s a representative gif for all of them:

Originally posted by cutepikachu

catfruits  asked:

Okay, so, I'd love to read a little something by you set in a world where Lavender made it out of the Battle of Hogwarts. Maybe not okay, but alive?

Once upon a time, Lavender had wanted everyone to look at her. She had been the kind of kid who put on dramatic plays for her stuffed animals, for any visitors to the house, and for any neighbor or passersby she could snag from the front yard.

Dating Ron in sixth year had been fun, most of all because everyone had kept sneaking glances at her. She had heard her name in curious whispers and she had grinned and giggled into Parvati’s shoulder.

Everyone was looking now, or pretending not to. She heard the whispers– oh it’s that poor Brown girl. Can you imagine, if it was your daughter, if it was you? Oh and she was so pretty before, too–what a pity–almost makes it worse, doesn’t it?

“You know Professor Lupin was a werewolf?” Hermione said, ten minutes into a very awkward lunch she had asked for in an equally awkward letter.

Lavender pushed a sauteed carrot through a little puddle of pasta sauce. “I think everyone heard about that one. Someone told the papers, or something, right?”

“Er, yes,” said Hermione. “Snape did. Which is what I– I mean, it’s related. Oh, I wish you’d gotten to talk to Remus about this. He was a lovely man.”

“Not as lovely as Lockhart,” Lavender said and she and Hermione spent a moment in wistful remembrance. “God, I feel old,” Lavender said.

“Anyway, Snape,” said Hermione. “Snape and Lupin. When Lupin was at school, Snape would make him a potion that would… tame him, on full moons. He could just curl up in his office and sleep by the fire. If you’re interested, I’m trying to learn how to brew it myself.”

Lavender shook her head. “We’re not friends,” she said. “Never have been. So why are you doing all this?”

Hermione looked like she was trying to say “we’re friends,” but she couldn’t get it out. “I was there, once, when Lupin turned without the potion. I was so scared. I thought we were going to die.”

“Afraid I’ll sniff you out on a dark night?” Lavender said, face twisting as she sank back into her wicker chair.

“No, I–” Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, and all the hesitation was making Lavender more and more uncomfortable. Even at eleven, Hermione had bulldozed through things. She didn’t waver. “I was so scared, but I think it was even worse for him. It hurt, but he looked so scared, too, I–”

“I know how it feels,” said Lavender, very quietly, and Hermione snapped her mouth shut. Lavender took a big sip from her tea. It was still steaming– it had not taken long to exhaust small talk, between the two of them.

Hermione cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to make amends. I’m trying to– make things better. Do you want this?”

Lavender put her mug back down, shaking out scalded fingers, and said, “Yes.” Then, because her mother had raised her right, she said, “Thank you.”

“That sounds like a weird conversation,” said Parvati, whose door Lavender went and knocked on after she and Hermione had split the bill with the precise-to-the-Knut math of the vaguely acquainted and recently employed.

Lavender kicked through the fall of autumn leaves that had collected in front of the porch swing. “She was trying to be nice, I think.”

“She’s not very good at it,” said Parvati.

-

Her father wept. He tried not to but he was a crier, always had been.

“You were so brave,” said Lavender’s mother, cupping her cheeks in her warm hands and not even flinching at the scar tissue under her palms. “We are so proud.”

Lavender’s mother was a Muggleborn, daughter of a math teacher and a door-to-door salesman (“now there is a profession that requires some magic,” her grandfather used to tell her).

Her father was a wizard and he was trying hard not to cry, bending down to pet the dogs weaving between all their ankles. Lavender bent down, too, scratching behind Fiddlestick’s floppy ears while Mopsy cleaned her cheek forcefully. “Hey,” she said, and her father looked up, trying to firm his wobbly chin.

“You know I’m proud of you, too,” he said, trying not to tremble on it. “I just…” He reached out to squeeze her knee gently. “You did everything right. You did everything good. I’m so proud of you, chickadee.”

“I know,” she said, and she did. He was a Gryffindor, too.

-

It took Hermione more than a month to figure out the potion sufficiently well enough that she’d let Lavender try it. She was founding a non-profit for nonhuman rights, too, after all, as well as doing a fair few local speaking gigs, petitioning the Wizenagamot on a half dozen issues, getting an advanced degree, and supposedly, at some point, sleeping.

It took more than a month, so Lavender spent another night locked in her parents’ newly fortified cellar. She didn’t remember much, but she woke up with her throat sore and her nails ragged. The door was gouged from the inside. She wondered if she had been screaming. She wondered if that’s what the howls were. She felt like screaming, maybe, a little.

The door cracked open the moment the moon had dropped down below the horizon, outside. Her mother came in with a tray of her favorite breakfast foods– danishes and boiled eggs, steaming hot cocoa with the barest splash of bitter coffee in it.

Parvati came stomping down the stairs after her. “Graceful,” said Lavender. She winced at the roughness of her voice.

“Look who’s talking,” said Parvati. “Up, c'mon, eat your breakfast. We’re doing midnight manicures. Your dad says he’ll let us doll up his nails, too.”

The next full moon night, Lavender locked herself in the cellar again. “It should be safe,” Hermione had said. “It should. I mean, I’ve done all the tests. I followed all the instructions. It should work.”

Lavender didn’t remember, because she never remembered– she didn’t recall the cellar door unlocking and opening after ten minutes of post-moonrise silence. She didn’t recall Parvati Wingardium Leviosa-ing a comfy chair down the stairs, or her sitting down and pulling out a stack of Witch Weeklys, nor did she remember curling up on Parvati’s fuzzy button slippers and going to sleep.

But she did remember waking up in the morning, her cheek pressed into a soft pillow. She was tattered under a thick blanket, but she was human and looking upward at Parvati’s slack, sleeping face. Her dark plaits tumbled, curling, over the soft pink polka dots of her pajamas.

Lavender pulled herself up to sitting, stole the open Witch Weekly, and waited for Parvati to wake up.

-

“You’re going to be alright,” Professor Trelawney said and she wasn’t even looking at Lavender’s palm, just holding her hand tight in her cold fingers. “You’re going to be happy. You’re going to be fine. People are going to love you and stand by you and we will be there.”

The tower room was just the same as Lavender remembered it, down to the spicy-sweet tea and Trelawney’s big blinking eyes. Lavender squeezed her hands back. “I love you, too, professor.”

“You know, I think you can call me Sybil. It seems the time for it.”

Dean and Seamas’s housewarming for their ugly little first flat was a crowded mess, but the afterparty wasn’t. Lavender and Parvati came by with paint swatches, opinions, and hangover remedies. They ate greasy Chinese food on the floor, because it was about as comfortable as the couch.

They came back the next week, and the next. Parvati conjured a crackling fire in a big fruit bowl Dean’s mother had given him and they all sat around it like they were back at Gryffindor Tower’s hearths, procrastinating on homework.

On nights like that they sometimes talked about Hogwarts, but most of the time they didn’t. Dean had started drawing again and he walked them through his notebooks– his sisters, caricatures of the customers he dealt with in Ollivander’s wand shop, the snarky little comics he’d always scrawled in the edges of his notes. Parvati told them about the Auror trainees’ antics, going ut on their first field missions with their mentors. “All bravado and caffeine,” she said. “Bunch of show-offs.”

“So you fit in well, then?” Dean said.

“Nah, that’s Lav,” Parvati said. Dean and Seamas glanced warily at Lavender, but she just giggled and reached for another potsticker.

Seamas was considering going back to school. “Hermione’s been badgering me about it,” he said. “Says I have a talent for pyrotechnics, and there’s a whole major for fire magics at Brinxley.”

“What about you, Lav?” said Dean. “You still thinking about vet school?”

“What?”

“Oh, uh, that’s the Muggle word. Veterinarian– a medimagizoologist?”

“The schools aren’t too interested in a werewolf as a student,” Lavender said, shrugging.

“Not that that stops Hermione from showing up on the doorstep with half-penned anti-discrimination lawsuits she wants Lav to star in,” Parvati said.

“When does she sleep?” said Dean.

Little children asked about it in the street sometimes. “Mum, why’s her face like that?” “How come she’s walking all funny?”

Sometimes their parents turned to Lavender with eager bright eyes in the grocery store line, expecting her to answer. (“I got hurt, but I’m okay now.”) Sometimes they shushed their kids and gave her little apologetic half-smiles, glancing away from the raised lines of scar tissue. Sometimes they pulled their children closer to them and crossed to the other side of the street.

Harry Potter had a godson. Teddy Lupin was four the first time Lavender met him, just outside Gringotts. Teddy clung to Harry’s pants leg, peeking past his godfather’s hanging robe. “Why’d her face do that?” he said and Harry dropped a hand down into Teddy’s hair, which was bright green.

“She’s just like your dad,” said Harry.

“Puppy,” Teddy whispered, eyes wide with joy, and his skin shifted until scars stood out stark on his smiling chubby cheeks.

Lavender bit her lip and sank down to her knees in the street, holding out a hand. “Why aren’t you handsome, chickadee. What’s your name?”

Once, Lavender had wanted everyone to look at her.

She hated stories that told you to be careful what you wished for. Were you not supposed to want things? Was that the answer? She was nearly twenty two and she could make things fly with a few whispered words. She had lived through her seventh year at Hogwarts, had stepped out into that battle with her wand out and her eyes open. She had woken up–hurting, wounds tended, poison in her veins–to Parvati sleeping on Sybil’s shoulder at her bedside.

She had cried when they told her about the lycanthropy. She had cried over her bunny because a fox had gotten to it. Both times it had been with her face buried in Parvati’s shoulder and Parvati’s hands stroking her hair. She wished and she wanted– animals that never left you, bodies that never betrayed you.

Once, Lavender had wished that everyone would look at her, and now they were. Everyone was looking– so Lavender held Parvati’s hand in the grocery store at midnight, because they had both been craving green apples. Everyone was looking– so Lavender curled her hair and pinned it up, wore tank tops and little skirts on any day hot enough that she could get away with it, laughed aloud in public spaces. Everyone was looking– so Lavender knocked on Hermione Granger’s door one evening and asked, “What would it take to get me into magical vet school?”

Hermione had her bushy hair all tied back and a quill behind each ear. “A lot. There’s some statutes we’ve got to fight, and even if we can handle that you’ll still be under intense scrutiny for years.”

“I can work with that,” said Lavender, and Hermione grinned.

When Teddy marched down the aisle with the rings, his hair was a shimmering swirl of pink and purple to match the flowers woven into Parvati’s braids and Lavender’s curls.

The honeymoon would be short–a week in magical Paris in the townhouse of a Beauxbaton girl they’d befriended fourth year. Lavender had more medical textbooks packed into her luggage than anything else. Parvati’s bags were lined with half-finished reports that she’d owl to Auror headquarters from a rumpled Parisian morning, getting croissant crumbs in the bedsheets.

But for now the hall was filled with pink and purple blooms, white candles, familiar faces. Hermione stood in a violet bridesmaid’s dress, and Dean and Seamus in matching ties at Parvati and Lavender’s respective backs. Padma was luminescent with joy over Parvati’s shoulder. She had taken Lavender aside that morning for a short quiet walk in the mist and told her, “I know tonight’s what makes it official, but I’ve thought of you as my sister for years.”

When Lavender leaned forward and kissed her wife, her father burst into proud tears in the front row. He was a crier, always had been. Lavender buried her face in Parvati’s shoulder, smiling so hard she thought she might come apart. Her scars creased and puckered in her dimples, and she was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

fall

or…lena doesn’t stop believing in the one person who believed in her

(or…the terrible thing i wrote to get rid of writer’s block and it’s long and sad but has a happy ending)

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.

Sometimes, when she’s alone in her office in the wee hours of the morning, still in yesterday’s clothing and unsure when she’d last eaten, she thinks about that, the utter normalcy of losing National City’s hero on a Wednesday. Somehow, the death on such a boring day of the week provides a sort of stark contrast that Lena has trouble wrapping her head around. After all, surely the hero and pride of National City would fall in a blaze of glory on a Friday night, a Sunday afternoon, even a Monday morning during rush hour.

But a Wednesday? Some time between mid-morning and noon? When nothing was happening except for the drudge of the week, the tireless churning of society?

She doesn’t understand it—has tried to come to terms with it with very little success. In her weakest moments, when she’s staring down the end of a bottle of whiskey or wine (before Jess or Maggie or even James Olsen pry the bottle from her fingertips and help her get home), she thinks the very banality of Supergirl’s death is evidence of its unnecessary nature, its needless, pointless, meaningless, asinine

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.

By Friday, the President herself comes to National City to mourn the fallen hero. She talks about the few short conversations she’s had with Supergirl, how everyone should be inspired and follow Supergirl’s wonderful example. A true hero, an exemplary citizen.

(Lena doesn’t go to the ceremony. She and Alex spend that afternoon in Kara’s apartment, sitting on Kara’s couch, Alex stoically staring at the television screen with silent tears running down her cheeks and Lena gripping her hand so tightly she thinks she’ll break fingers.  

After that, Lena doesn’t see much of Alex at all.)

Keep reading

It was still dark.

Alec sighed and pressed his face against Magnus’ back, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. The warlock didn’t respond. Alec wasn’t surprised. Magnus was practically drained after the last twenty four hours, and Alec wasn’t much better off himself.

Even after the fight against Valentine and finding each other after hours of not knowing if the other was alright, Magnus and Alec still had work to do. As a downworld leader, Magnus had to help with the identification of the dead, then he opened a portal so that the bodies could be delivered to their packs and clans, rather than leave them for the shadowhunters to dispose of. Then he had met with Luke and Raphiel, about what Alec still hadn’t asked. Magnus would tell him if he wanted to.

Alec had been busy himself. As the head of the institute he’d had to inform the families of the lost shadowhunters and help transport them to the large open space where their funerals would be held. Reports had to be written, damage control completed. Izzy was the infirmary, Jace was brooding, and the Soul Sword was missing. He didn’t know what he needed to deal with first.

Finally, when all that they could do was done, Magnus and Alec had walked to the warlock’s loft, hand in hand, not speaking. Once there, they had removed their shoes at the door and found themselves in Magnus’s huge bathroom.

Alec had undressed his boyfriend with shaking hands. He checked every inch of uncovered skin for injuries, his fists clenching in anger when he found light bruises where the vampires had gripped Magnus outside the institute. Magnus only murmured soothingly to him that he was fine, his nimble fingers going about removing Alec’s gear. If he found a cut or scrape anywhere, he made it disappear with a warm flash of blue from his fingertips before they stepped into the shower together.

Their touches under the hot water hadn’t been sexual, though. They had simply stood together, watching blood and dirt and sweat wash away. Alec had grabbed the shampoo and went for Magnus’ hair, washing out gel and spray until it was left limp and soft between fingers. Magnus had followed his lead, though his menstruations were to sooth Alec.

Alec had looked up into Magnus’s eyes, still ringed in thick black makeup. Makeup that wouldn’t wash away until Magnus wanted it gone. Alec had asked him, in way that he hoped made it clear it was up to Magnus, to take it off. And he had.

Because tonight they didn’t need to be the head of the New York institute or the High Warlock of Brooklyn. They just needed to be Magnus and Alec.

They had gotten out of the shower and dried themselves off before crawling into bed, Alec in shorts and a T-shirt and Magnus in a pair of Alec’s sweatpants. They laid facing each other on Magnus’s bed, their legs tangled and foreheads touching. They spent the short time before they fell asleep whispering ‘I love you’s and kissing.

Alec didn’t remember falling asleep, but now it was well after one in the morning. He wasn’t really concerned, he had made a habit of waking up in the middle of the night around the same time Jace and Izzy had started sneaking out of the institute years ago. He kissed the back of Magnus’s neck and rolled away from him, wanting a little space under the warm sheets.

Alec nuzzled his face into the cool pillow, then slowly opened his eyes to look at the clock. Instead his hazel eyes locked with a pair of dark brown ones. Alec immediately jolted awake, hands searching for a weapon out of reflex before his brain kicked in. He recognized who those eyes belonged to.

“Madzie?” He asked in a hushed voice as a million questions ran through his mind.

What was she doing here? How did she get here? Did Caterina even know she was gone? Why hadn’t she set off Magnus’s wards? Why was she staring at Alec like that?

“I had a bad dream,” The little girl said, as is Alec should have known. As if she had always came to his bedside when she had nightmares.

“Uh…” Madzie looked at the floor.

“Nana let’s me sleep with her when I have bad dreams.”

Finally, Alec’s sleep addled brain kicked in. Madzie had had a nightmare. She was scared. She was scared and her nana was gone. So she found the next person who she trusted. She found Alec.

Suddenly it didn’t matter that there was no way Madzie should have been able to portal herself here when she had never been to Magnus’s apartment. It didn’t matter that she had made it through powerful wards without disturbing Magnus at all. It didn’t matter that this was completely crazy. All that mattered was that Madzie was scared and she had came to Alec for comfort.

“Do you want to sleep with us?” Alec asked her. Madzie nodded, gnawing on her thumb nervously. Alec easily scooped her up and put her on the bed, between himself and Magnus.

Madzie curled into the pillows and pressed herself against Alec’s side, knotting her fingers in his shirt. Alec wrapped his arms around her and hummed softly in her ear.

He knew that Caterina was going to call in a panic in the morning. He knew Magnus was probably going get overexcited in one way or another. He knew the Clave was going to be furious. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now, all that mattered was the girl drifting to sleep in his arms.

Everything else could wait until morning.

anonymous asked:

Sleeping positions with 76, reaper, mercy, Lucio, Widowmaker, Sombra, and Hanzo?

Hope you enjoy~

——————————————————————————————-

Soldier: 76:

  • He sleeps totally flat on his back with his legs and arms straight, often with his s/o or a pillow in his arms
  • He’s a really light sleep. If anything makes a sound in the night, be it his s/o or a cat screeching outside his window, well he’s up in a flash
  • Jack often gets nightmares, will wake up in a panic before possibly taking a cold shower at 3 am or gently taking hold of his sleeping s/o pulling them into his chest and nuzzling his face into the crook of their neck
  • Often he’ll wake up before you, but he won’t touch you in fear of waking him up. When you do eventually come into the world of the living again, you’d glance across to see him lying there in a vest and some boxes staring up at the ceiling. But when he notices you’re awake, he’d prop himself up on his elbows and smile, whispering “good morning beautiful"

Reaper:

  • He doesn’t need a lot of sleep, even before becoming Reaper, Reyes would pretty much live off coffee rather than actual sleep
  • Very restless, it’ll take him a while to actually fall asleep. He’ll spend hours tossing and turning, kicking the sheets off and sighing before finding a comfortable position.
  • If his s/o is there, he’ll curl up around then with his  face against their back
  • He’ll often wake up half way through the night and go for a walk. He’ll drift around outside, observiving the city as its sleeping, yet this doesn’t bother his s/o. They may be concerned for him, but they know he’ll be back in the morning with a  cup of black coffee and some fresh bread for them

Mercy:

  • Whilst sleep she looks so elegant. She wears a white nightdress and her hair down to bed, so if she didn’t look like an angel before, she certainly does now
  • . Her eyelids occasionally flutter and her lips move as she dreams. Her hands will stretch out for her s/o until she finds them in her sleeping state
  • Whilst sleeping, Angela will often rest a hand on her s/o other’s, or possibly their waist
  • Her hair will often cover her face as she sleeps, and although she isn’t aware of this, she’ll make little ‘puffing’ sounds to try and blow strands of hair away from her nose and mouth

Lucio:

  • He is extremely cuddly, totally okay with cuddling his s/o or being cuddled himself. In fact, if he didn’t have his s/o beside him, he may find it a bit harder to sleep
  • He’ll intertwine his legs and fingers with yours, his forehead gently pressing against yours
  • This man has a load of blankets on his bed as he gets cold easily. If he starts to shiver in the night, he’ll pout and wriggle closer to you, jokily whining about he needs warming up
  • He wakes up early, and always so positively. He’ll pepper his s/o cheeks with kisses whilst grinning and whispering how great the day is going to be as his s/o mumbles and pulls the sheet over their head, which he finds funny

Widowmaker:

  • She sleep curled up in a ball with her knees against her chest, which baffles you slightly.
  • Once asleep, you swear she’s deadly quiet. Her breathing turns to gentle puffs and she does’t move around to much
  • Though occasionally she’ll whimper and frown before moving closer to you and resting her head on either your chest or shoulder
  • Expect whispery rambles in french sometimes. She’ll seem annoyed in her sleep which you find helplessly cute - she scrunches up her noses and mumbles, whenever she does this you know she’s about to wake up
  • Amelie often pretends to be asleep whilst you get out of bed and get dressed. She’ll often dart towards you and wrap her hands around you whilst you’re getting changed, which makes you squeak which she finds stupidly cute and innocent

Sombra:

  • Big tough Somba? Who? Sombra sleeps with multiple plushies around her, claiming its just because she cant be bothered to throw them away but you know that she’d probably sob if one of them went missing
  • Sleeping in a large t shirt, Sombra sleeps on her front - think like a sky diver
  • She’ll totally have a pillow fight with you if you’re about to fall asleep snd she’s bored
  • She’ll usually sleep with her head on your chest and she adores to have her hair played with if she’s dozing off
  • She also love it when you trail a finger across the tattoos on her back, she finds it oddly soothing
  • If you get up in the night, she’ll moan and cling to you like a limpet. Often enough you’ve tried to walk to the bathroom with Sombra attached to your leg

Hanzo

  • Such a beautiful sleeper. His hair fans out behind him as he makes a particular fuss to brush it out before he goes to sleep
  • He’ll spend a long time with his hands resting on his chest thinking about the world. You sometimes watch him before taking his hands and telling him not to worry right now
  • Once sleeping, his seemingly permanent scowl will melt away, making him look bliss fully peaceful
  • Even whilst sleeping, he becomes slightly flustered at the idea of cuddling, even if you beg - though that does not stop him from ‘secretly’ pulling you into his arms when he thinks you’re asleep
  • He’ll often rest his face against your neck, his beard tickling your soft skin every time he takes a breath

“Yuuri, the baby is sniffling. I think we should take her to the hospital.”

“What?!” Yuuri screeches, vaulting out of bed because it’s four o’clock in the morning and the only things that made their way into his sleeping brain were baby and hospital.

Viktor is hovering over him like some sort of predatory bird, holding the baby. Their matching pairs of eyes are both fixed on him. It looks kind of like they’re one creature with four eyes and Yuuri is still partially asleep.

“Holy shit, never do that again,” Yuuri snaps, nearly punching the switch on the lamp.

The baby sneezes.

“Sniffles, Yuuri,” Viktor says gravely, slowly rocking back and forth. Viktor does that constantly nowadays, even when he’s not handling the baby. Yuuri caught him holding Yuri’s skate bag the other day, gently bouncing and patting it while staring with zero focus in his eyes and intense concentration on his face at the closest wall.

“Does she have a fever?”

“No, but I–”

“Did you listen to her chest? Is she breathing normally?”

“Yes, but–”

“Does she seem distressed?” To Yuuri’s eyes, she just looks perplexed. Perplexed and maybe a bit upset to have been removed from her warm bed and now have a bright light shining into her face.

“No, b–”

“Then it can wait until the morning.” Yuuri turns off the light and takes her from Viktor’s hands, curls up on his side with her wiggling in his arms. “Hello, sweetheart. Let’s go back to sleep.” He kisses her head and waits for Viktor to slowly shuffle around the bed and get in behind him.

“You can’t fall asleep with her in our bed,” Viktor tells him fretfully after a moment.

“I’m aware,” Yuuri says slowly. “Did you know that I’ve read the exact same parenting books that you have, Viktor? Did you know that?” He kisses her again. “The feeding alarm is going to go off in a few minutes. I’m resting my eyes until then.”

There is blessed silence for almost a full minute before Viktor says, “I just think–”

“I will strangle you in front of your child,” Yuuri hisses.

“Shutting up now.”

Six years later, Viktor watches their second child run head-first into a wall and does nothing but shout, “Shake it off, bunny!” from across the room. Yuuri avenges his younger self by dropping their third child into Viktor’s lap and announcing, “He needs to be changed.”

It’s one of those diaper changes that ends with Viktor standing in the shower with the baby, unsalvagable clothes (Both baby’s and Viktor’s) in a trash bag by the bathroom door. Yuuri films it.

Deadly Sins- Lust & Desperation

Relationship: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary:Peter takes the Reader in the shower after a training session ;)

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault from Lust & Wrath.. I know people handle sexual assault differently so just know this is how the Reader handled it and she’s just one tough bitch not gonna let no man destroy her life when she has an awesome man AKA PETER. Swearing cause Tom swears IRL and I do too, SEX BABYYY LETS GET HOT AND… STEAMYYYY

Word Count: 3,000+

A/N: I WILL BE ADDING EMOTIONS TO THESE FICS. THESE EMOTIONS/FEELINGS ARE WHAT THE READERS OR CHARACTERS EXPERIENCE. JUST WANT TO THROW THAT OUT THERE :,) Pls don’t get mad at me /.\ Ps. go check out my friend’s blog @daddytom2013 give her some love for me (,:

P.S: I DON’T WRITE SMUT ABOUT 15 Y/O PETER. LEMME CLARIFY: HE WAS GRADUATING HIGHSCHOOL WHEN ENVY WAS PUT OUT. I WANT TO CLARIFY BECAUSE I WILL NEVER WRITE ABOUT A 15 Y/O HAVING SEX IN MY SMUTS. IT’S NOT RIGHT. IN MY OPINION. JUST KNOW IN MY UNIVERSE HE IS IN HIS 20′S AT THIS POINT. THANK YOU, THAT IS ALL :,)

Deadly Sins- Envy & Wrath , Deadly Sins-Lust & Wrath

[Peter’s POV]

Peter you have training with Steve and Sam in ten minutes, you need to hurry to the training room” Karen’s voice fills the air of your bedroom. Crap I’m running late, I just got back from our spot with fresh flowers for the kitchen table. I picked a rose especially for my girl.

“I will be there shortly Karen, thank you” I reply fixing my black joggers on my waist. Pulling my shirt on followed by my hat putting it on backwards. I wore hats that way to keep my curls out of my face while I worked out. Looking over at our bed my girl laid there like she has for the past three months. Crying herself to sleep, having night terrors and crying during the day. The only time she would get up to move was to shower,eat or work in her lab. Then whenever she was done she would go right back to bed without a word.

“Angel, I won’t be back for a few hours then I’ll come back after, are you going to be okay?” I ask kneeling near the bed. I rub her cheek with my thumb. A tear falls down her cheek making my hand wet. Quickly I wipe away the others that fall giving her forehead a quick kiss. She sniffles causing a pain to happen in my chest. I hate seeing her like this for so long. No one can tell her what to do because they didn’t experience what she did that awful night.

“You don’t have to pity me Peter, it’s been three months since that night” she whispers pulling the blankets closer to her chest. Shock plastered on my facial features. This was the first time she spoke to me since then. Her voice sounded like music to my ears.

“Pity you? You’re my girlfriend, the love of my life.. you got assaulted and I saw it with my own eyes..” my voice rising a bit. How could she think you pity her? You love her more than life itself. She is what I think about when I wake up and before I go to bed.

“I haven’t let you sleep with me since then.. you’re probably tired of me now, I’m used” her voice breaks as she turns her back to you. A sob comes from her shaking covered body. Wanting so badly to pull her into your chest but she doesn’t let me do that much anymore without getting stiff or flinching. It’s been so hard when she distanced herself from me.

“You’re everything to me Angel.. I wish you would let me show how much of a rare gem you are, even if not I would wait as long as I needed to” Placing one more kiss to the back of her head I place a rose on the nightstand beside our bed. Heading out of the room I tell Karen to play some Halsey for her while I’m away. Karen wishes me luck with training before playing the playlist.

-

“Peter”

“Peter focus!” my eyes snap to the voice seeing Steve and Sam looking at me. Steve looked concerned and Sam was waving his hands around. Thankfully Tony wasn’t here or he would make the training hell.

“I-I’m okay guys sorry, what’s next?” I ask re wrapping my hands,the wrap was starting to get loose. Steve and Sam look at each other almost having a silent conversation but with their eyes.Sam walks over placing a hand on my shoulder pausing before he speaks.

“I know this is still a tough subject but I want you to punch this bag as many times you can.. Imagine it was that man” I grit my teeth nodding at his request. He pats my back urging me to start. I charge at the bag jabbing it hard imagining the man’s face. Minutes go by as I continue to hit the punching bag. My breathing getting heavy as I kept going. The only thing that kept me going was my girl, my sweet sweet angel.

“C’mon Peter harder c’mon man you got this” Sam cheers next to Steve. You could feel Steve’s stare boring into your skin only making you push harder. Fists slamming into the bag at a faster pace,feeling every muscle engaging to it’s full capacity. Grunts falling past my lips feeling the pain spread through my arms.

Letting out a scream I punch it so hard it snaps off the chain flying towards the wall. Colliding into the wall it hits the floor with a thud. My chest heaving up and down as I collapse to the ground. A feeling grows in my chest, it was regret. If only I had stayed with her maybe she wouldn’t of have been targeted. If only I was quicker maybe I could have stopped him from raping her. All the what ifs filled my mind as I tried controlling my breathing.

“Let me get another bag, I’ll be back” Steve says heading to the spare room. Sam walks over sitting down next to me. Him and Bucky normally picked on you but there were moments where he felt like an older brother. Tony could barely talk to you because he was still upset the situation happened over the men wanting supplies from his corporation. He feels more to blame than how I feel of not getting there in time.

“Peter, man you know I didn’t mean to make you upset… we just need you working to your fullest potential. This is a hard time for you,Tony and your angel.. how’s she doing ?” He asks rubbing my back a sympathetic look on his face.

“Not good.. She told me today she thought I’m tired of her just because we haven’t had sex since the incident.. She feels used because of that fucking bastard.. Today was the first time she talked to me since then” my hands running through my hair. I hated to cry but it felt so good as the tears fell. Sam patted my back as the tears fell onto the matted flooring.

“You are her world Peter, it’s natural for a woman to feel like that.. She’s yours and she felt like someone took that part of her away and that you probably don’t want a woman who was taken that way.. You just need to show her that even after the months of silence you’re still her one and only.” He gives me a smile lifting his goggles to his forehead. Helping me up from the ground I pull him into a hug.

“T-thank you Sam” I whisper as he squeezes me tightly before letting go. Steve comes back in carrying two punching bags. Letting them down with a thud he preps a new chain for the new bag.

“Now that we have you where we want you, let’s do more boxing then take it into combat practice mode, cool?” He grins in your direction.

“If I get to kick your ass then hell yeah” Laughing as I punch my right hand into my left palm.

“There’s the Parker I know” Steve smiles making Sam chuckle.

-

[Reader’s POV]

“Babe I’m back” you hear Peter’s voice fill your apartment. You were currently looking at yourself in the mirror. The redness in your cheeks from crying, you looked like a damn mess. Holding your rose that Peter gave you earlier in your shaking hands.

You couldn’t even respond like you used to. Your body felt numb and your voice non existent.

“Angel.. Please look at me” his voice begs as his finger tilts your chin in his direction.Opening your eyes you looked at Peter whose eyes looked pained. His normally happy self seemed so melancholy.

“Babygirl, please say something.. It felt so good to hear the sound of your voice today.. I love the sound of it and you talking to me..” His arms slowly wrapping around your body. They pulled you close to him,feeling his warmth engulfing you. You’ve missed this. Yet you felt better by yourself the past three months.

“I-I’m sorry Peter.. You’ve been trying to talk to me and I hate that I couldn’t talk to you I just feel like my whole body is numb.. I’ve m-missed you so much and I loved all the flowers you gave me everyday” my voice feeling like it was jumbled as tears started forming. His lips pressed against your head. The feeling so comforting and soothing. It was hard the few months you distanced yourself from him.

“I missed you more Angel, I can’t believe you thought I would leave you after that… you aren’t used cause you’re my girl no matter what happens.” He places his hands on your cheeks. The warmth of his hands making you close your eyes. Tilting your head into his palms sighing, you felt safe.

“Promise me you’ll never leave me” I whisper holding onto him tighter. I could feel his muscles through his shirt. The definition of his muscles was clear as your hands slid down his back.

“I will never leave you,like I said you’re everything to me” Lips press against yours, the feeling hitting you like a bag of bricks. You needed him more than you thought. The intense feeling waking up your whole body. Pulling his shirt as he deepens the kiss. It wasn’t forceful but it was full of love. The kiss reminding you that Peter is there for you through thick and thin. Even after these months went by he never changed.

“God you need a shower” you laugh as your nose scrunches up. You trying to pull away only to be pulled back to his body.

“Well after you hugging me now you do too, c’mon let’s save water” He winks pulling you towards the master bathroom. It felt so good to have his hand in mine. Following behind him he heads to the touch screen next to the shower.

 Peter touches the buttons to get the temperature and water pressure right. Lifting his shirt off slowly he throws it to the floor. My eyes looking at the muscles move when he made movements. The way his joggers hung dangerously low on his hips. Looking at the V muscle showing making me want to kiss my way down. The sight made me want to do so many things. He is like a sexual piece of art that you can look at.

“C’mon angel let’s get you undressed” his hands find your waist lifting his shirt you had on. Peter tossed your shirt into a pile. You weren’t wearing a bra so your breasts were exposed. Feeling his lips ghost over your skin. Placing kisses slowly down your body.  He unties the string on your shorts slipping them down along with your panties. Kisses placed on your hips before he slowly stood back up.

“Peter, p-please” I gasp out at the feeling of his lips kissing up to the shell of your ear. You were desperate with need. Your arms snaked around his neck,hands getting lost in his curls. He pulled down his joggers stepping out of them. His lips still sucking and biting the skin of your neck.

“I’ve missed you so much” Peter’s voice sounded so pained,you hated that you caused him pain.He swiftly lifts you up heading towards the walk in shower. Music still playing in the background as he carried you in. Your eyes were taking in his features, you haven’t looked at him like this in what seemed like forever. The intimate eye contact made your heart flutter.

“I-I’m sorry P-”

“You have nothing to be sorry about Angel..” Your back is pressed against the tile wall. He sets you down so you’re standing in front of him.  Peter’s lips left a trail of hot kisses from your neck down between your breasts. Your hand going to his curls trying to hold onto something else besides the wall. The look in his eyes as he made his way down made your heart pound harder. How he was kissing your skin seemed like he was trying to kiss away all the pain you had for that span of time.

His fingers ghosting their way down from your breasts. Fingertips sliding down your skin to your hips. The pads of his thumbs rubbed soothing circles on your hips making you twitch under his touch. Lifting your left leg he places it over his shoulder. Light kisses being placed from the top of your inner thigh slowly going down.

His teeth nip at your skin causing a moan to come out. You loved it when he was like this but it was also torture waiting in anticipation. His hands gripped your thigh tighter as he got closer to your core. Peter’s right hand kept your hips still so you wouldn’t move. Your legs felt wobbly but he kept you standing. His tongue licks your core slowly while still looking up at you. A whimper comes out as he flicks his tongue on your clit.

Hands tighten in his hair as he keeps eye contact with you. The steam in the shower making it slightly harder to breathe. Your hips moving as you grinded against his tongue. He slowly inserts a finger in pumping slowly in and out of you. Another followed shortly after making you moan his name out repeatedly. His fingers curling inside sent a wave of pleasure washing over you. Peter hit-s your g-spot making your fingers grip his curls more.

“P-lease… make love to me Peter. I c-can’t wait anymore” you gasp out with tears in your eyes. He gives one last kiss to your clit withdrawing his fingers from you. Standing he looks down at you eyes dark with arousal.

The water hitting Peter made his curls drip with water. Watching as droplets slide down his fit body made you bite your lip.He lets your left leg down. Your right leg held now in the crook of his left arm. He takes his cock rubbing it up and down your slit slowly. The action making you pant even more in the heated shower.

Looking down you watch as his cock slides into you. A groan slips out of Peter’s lips as he enters you. Your right hand gripping his shoulder from the pleasure that sparked inside you. His right hand cups your cheek gently as his thrusts go deep and slow.

“Fuck.. K-keep your eyes on me Angel..” your eyes fluttered open, his gaze trapping yours. Moans slip out as your back hits the wall a bit the pain and pleasure starting to mix together.

“Pe-Peter” I whimper as his thrusts start getting faster. Grunts escaped his lips as his pelvis smacked against yours. The feeling of him pumping in and out of you felt so good after so long of not having anything.

“God you feel so good,you’re my girl,my one and only” he whispers resting his right forearm against the wall. My hand slides down from his hair and goes down to stay at his chest.  I could feel his heartbeat against my palm.

“Please know I will never abandon you, I’m here for you through thick and thin.. Whatever comes our way we can get through it together” Peter presses kisses on your jaw heading down to your bruised neck.

“I-I love you Peter” I gasp out when I feel his thumb rubbing fast circles against my clit. Your thighs start to shake as pleasure fills your entire body. Puffs of air escaped you as you could feel the edge coming quickly.

“I love you more Angel, m-more than you can imagine” he groans as his thrusts start become sloppier.His hands grasp your hips pulling you against him the same time he thrusts causing himself to go deeper. The sound of both of your moans filled the bathroom air echoing off the tile walls. Looking to the side the whole master bathroom was filled with steam from the hot water that pelted against both of your bodies.

“I’m gonna c-cum” I moan tilting my head back. His lips attached onto the base of my neck. The feeling of him sucking, and biting left you breathless. Reaching down I start rubbing my clit earning a moan from Peter. The pleasure taking over my body as I came hard. Holding onto Peter for dear life as he came after my release. His lips press onto mine in a desperate kiss pulling my body flush against his.

“I can’t feel my legs” I breathe out holding onto Peter.

“Peter, Mr. Stark tried shutting down your Do Not Disturb Protocol because he needs to- uh oh he broke into the apartment” Karen’s voice sounds scared.

“He broke in?!” I shout trying to stand only to slip and fall hard on the floor.

“Fuck this isn’t good” Peter scrambles rushing towards the screen turning off the shower. This situation could only get worse from here.

“Peter we have to talk this instant , what the hell is this Do Not Disturb Protocol abo-” The door slams open causing me to yelp out in fear at the sound of the door banging against the wall.

“Mr. Stark you have to get out!” Peter covers himself as I glared up at him trying to hide but there was no point.

“You’re sleeping with my daughter and keeping record in Karen’s system?! Wha-” Tony’s voice raises but he stops at what he’s about to say next.

DAUGHTER?” I ask in disbelief looking between the two of them. 

Peter still covering himself as he grabs our towels. Snatching the towel I cover myself up. Tony had his eyes covered  while the two of you put your towels on. You could barely stand from what you just went through but the adrenaline of the situation helped.

“Angel, I-” Peter grasps your wrist trying to pull you to him.

“What the hell Peter” ripping my hand out of his,I walk past Tony embarrassed as hell.

Grabbing a pair of clothes I go to our front door. It had a blasted hole into it near the handle. Changing in the extra bathroom I get inside Peter’s hoodie. Running out of the apartment and down the hall. Hearing snickers I saw Sam and Bucky in the hallway with grins. I give them a eat shit and die look before getting the elevator.

-

[Peter’s POV]

“What the hell Tony! Is that seriously the way you wanted to tell her that she’s your daughter” I spat at him earning a quick slap to the face.

“No it wasn’t , it slipped out..” He groans walking out of the bathroom.

“Well I’m going to change and if you care to JOIN me, you can explain everything so my girlfriend doesn’t HATE me.” I say pulling clothes out of the drawer.Throwing on my clothes quickly I mentally slap myself for the situation.

“Do I HAVE to.. ?” Tony says digging his shoe into the carpet.

“Tony, you’re GOING!” I snap pulling his sweater knowing exactly where she took off to.

Sleepover-Sirius Black Imagine

Request: helloo i was wondering if you could do a sirius x reader where everyone knows they love each other but they don’t admit it & for some reason one day all the marauders are sleeping in the girls dorm (like a sleepover lol) but its v cold and they don’t have enough blankets, sirius and reader have to share and they wake up cuddled up to each other and just fluff?? 

Warnings: none

Requests are always open, hope you enjoy! xo


Sirius and Y/N had been in love since they first laid eyes on each other. The two were attached at the hip and seldom seen apart; in rare cases when they weren’t together, they were utterly miserable. Everyone knew they were in love-well, except them.


“Face it Padfoot, you’re in love with Y/N,” James said, smirking as he watched his best friend shoot daggers at the boy talking to her across the common room. 

“Shut it, no I’m not. She’s my best friend, I have to look out for her,” Sirius replied, clenching his jaw as the boy stepped closer to her.

“We’re her friends too, but you don’t see us getting angry just because some bloke is talking to her, Sirius,” Remus chided.

“I’m not angry,” he snapped.

“No, just jealous,” James chuckled, earning a pillow to the face.

Keep reading

For the heck of it, I decided to rewrite and expand on my idea of how Coran figures out dealing with Slav.


The multi-armed alien is curled in a tight little ball under a console in the Lions’ hanger when Coran finds him, having been tipped off by Yellow and the muttered sound of dire predictions.

A strange fellow this Slav may be, but he knows how to deal with the sight of someone having bad nightmares, and very gently taps a hand clamped over an ear with one of the cold bottles he’s carrying. “Easy, it’s just me,” he says when that draws a yelp and a frenzied attempt to curl up even smaller. “Come out of there and rehydrate before you sweat yourself to nothing.”

“I have only a twelve per cent possibility of being able to die of dehydration in my current condition,” Slav mumbles, but slinks out of his hidey-hole nonetheless. 

The bags under his eyes are pretty spectacular.

Coran gently waves the offered bottle in front of his face, and Slav eyes it suspiciously before snatching it and cracking the seal, sniffing at the spicy-sweet contents. “Belai? Why would you keep this in stock?”

He shrugs. “It’s a good idea to be stocked for everything,” he says as if that actually answers the question instead of dodges it, and pretends not to notice the very obvious change in the way Slav looks at him.

Maybe he answered more accurately than he wanted to. Oh, well.

He takes a seat on a mechanic’s stool and his slithery little drinking buddy clambers up onto the console and takes a swig. “More bad dreams about other realms?” Coran asks once Slav has had enough that the question won’t send him into a complete frenzy.

“Oh, my, yes. Always. So many. And the percentages of them happening are so high. There is a ninety-eight per cent possibility that our rescue mission on Rurikora will end with seven children dead and ourselves in captivity. Eighty-six per cent-”

“Slav. Have you ever tried not thinking about the likely timelines?” Coran asks, and Slav looks up from his bottle with a head-tilt that reminds him of Allura when she was a toddler.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, try imagining something completely outlandish. Like… Pidge becoming Queen of the Turimonquans.”

Slav blinks at him, then snorts out a barking noise that sounds like a laugh. “But that only has an-”

“Don’t tell me the percentage.”

“W-what? But you said-”

Coran thinks, tapping a fingertip against his own bottle. “Tell me… tell me what her coronation outfit looks like.”

And that, he discovers, is the secret. Never talk about the percentages. Percentages bring anxiety, and an anxious, stressed Slav is a bundle of nervous energy that drives the entire crew off the handle. 

So instead, every time Coran gets that itch up the back of his neck that means a certain alien is somewhere in the Castle having a breakdown, he quietly fishes a couple of bottles of Belai out of the cooling chambers, digs Slav out of wherever he’s hiding-

-and they talk.

About other timelines, mostly. Worlds that never happened, or have the slimmest chances of happening. But never in percentages. Instead, Coran always asks for visions, images, what Slav sees as his mind reaches out into those pathways that wind before and behind them.

“There is a timeline where we all really do end up becoming space pirates,” Slav says as he rolls his bottle back and forth between his paws.

“Yeah?” Coran takes a drink. “What are you wearing for your pirating outfit?”

“For some reason, I have many, many earrings. I do not understand. It seems very inefficient to have so many earrings.”

“Maybe it makes you look tough.”

“Hm. I have always wondered what it would be like to be the frightening-looking one for a change.”

“I don’t understand how you can put up with him,” Allura mutters when she notices the alien curled up peacefully beside him in a snoozing lump. “If I have to kick him off the piloting controls one more time, I’m going to scream.”

Coran absently pets an ear, and Slav mutters in his sleep, not about probability, but about energy sails and swords. “Just have to give him the right outlet, that’s all.”

The Fourth Musketeer (Part 5)

Originally posted by jughead-thethird

Part one here     Part two here     Part three here     Part four here

Requests: Part 5 of The Fourth Musketeers por favor, I’m in love with this series

There’s gonna be a part 5 for the four musketeers??? YEYYYY

Please please please please please please please please please please please please more Fourth Musketeers Please please please please please please please please please please please please Please please please please please please please please please please please please !!!😊😊😊😊😊

hey! can you please do a part five of the four musketeers?! I’m so hooked! I need more! have a great day 💕

your writing is AMAZING!!💘oh and no rush but part 5 of Fourth Musketeer pls!! lots of love heheh😽

Hi! is part five of the four musketeers coming out soon? it’s really amazing!

Pairing: Archie x Reader

Description: A few days of an agonizing wait and the court case’s outcome.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,309

A/N: wowowow that was a long wait, sorry guys!  here’s the final part, enjoy!


On a quaint Thursday night, the Andrews sat in their dining room, enjoying the pepperoni pizza they ordered.  Their quiet dinner was disturbed by a soft knock on the door.  Fred Andrews was the first to stand, so he opened the door to reveal a disheveled eight year old.

“(Y/N)?” he questioned, opening the door wider.  She looked up at him with sad, wide eyes.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Andrews,” she apologized, “but my parents are yelling a lot again, and you said that if it ever got a bit too much-”

“That you are welcome here,” Fred finished, a comforting smile on his face.  “Of course you can come in, (Y/N).  Hell, stay the night if you need to.”

“Thank you, Mr. Andrews,” (Y/N) whispered her gratitude as she stepped inside.  She wasn’t acting shy because she was uncomfortable around Archie’s parents; it was because she thought she was intruding.

“Archie, look who’s joining us for dinner!” Fred called out.  Immediately, a loud thump echoed through the Andrews household as Archie leapt off his chair.  He sprinted towards the doorway, where he knew (Y/N) was standing.

“(Y/N)!” Archie exclaimed, excitedly jumping.  All of (Y/N)’s tentativeness suddenly vanished as she laid eyes on her best friend. “You’re just in time!  The pizza is still warm!”

“Pepperoni?”

“Of course!”  The two children feverishly ran into the kitchen.  Mrs. Andrews warmly welcomed (Y/N) and assisted her in grabbing two slices of pizza.  When both Archie and (Y/N) were occupied in conversation, Mary stepped out into the hallway with Fred.

“Not that I don’t love that girl,” she whispered to her husband, “but she’s here a lot.  Too much, considering the circumstances.”

“I know, I know,” Fred sighed, pressing his fingers against his temple.  “But we can’t do anything.  You know we can’t talk to her parents, that’ll make it worse.”

“But maybe if they just got some counseling-”

“Have you met her parents?” he interrupted her.  “They’re both too headstrong to ever listen to each other, even with a licensed therapist present.  The only thing we can do is help (Y/N) wait out the storm.  Hopefully it’ll be over soon.”


“It feels like this has been going on for my whole life,” (Y/N) explained to Kevin as she stabbed at her salad.  “I mean, my parents have been fighting for as long as I can remember.  Honestly, I’m surprised it took them this long to file for a divorce.”  Kevin shifted in his chair.

“This is so dramatic,” he commented, slightly leaning forward in interest.  “I know Jughead has already written a novel about yours and Archie’s tragic romance, but he seriously needs to write a sequel.”   (Y/N) laughed and shook her head.  

“Well everything’s at a standstill right now,” she shrugged.  “All we can do is wait.”

“For the court case to be over?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) nodded. “I gave my statement, so now my mom and dad battle it out in court to decide who gets custody.”

“Basically, they’re deciding where you’re gonna live and how your life is gonna pan out,” Kevin paraphrased. (Y/N) nodded glumly.

“Exactly.”

“And you can’t do anything else?” Kevin asked.  (Y/N) shook her head.

“No,” she answered.  “Like I said before, we just have to ride out the storm and hope for the best.”

“And what happens if your dad wins?”

“I go back to New York. I live there until I’m eighteen and then I’ll go to whatever college I get into,” she sighed.  

“What about Archie?” he questioned.  She pursed her lips.

“There’s nothing I can do about him.”

“But will you guys still be a thing?” Kevin inquired.  “Will you keep in touch this time?  Oh god please don’t let this die out again, you have no idea how much I need you two to be endgame.”

“We’ll see, Kevin,” (Y/N) giggled.  “I want to keep in touch.  Hell, I tried last time.  If I move back to New York, it’s up to Archie to keep in touch with me.”


“So how’s it going with (Y/N)?” Jughead asked Archie one night at dinner.  Archie glanced up from his plate, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“The court case,” Jughead elaborated.  “Do you know what’s going on?”

“I only know what (Y/N) knows,” Archie answered.  “She gave her statement a few days ago, so now her parents have to go into the courthouse in two days-”

“And that’s when (Y/N)’s fate will be decided,” Jughead dramatically finished.  Archie nodded and returned to his food.

“Yup, that pretty much sums it up.”

“But even if (Y/N) does have to move back to New York, you’re still gonna keep in touch with her, right?” Jughead questioned.  When Archie didn’t respond, Jughead dropped his fork as he stared disbelievingly at his friend.  “You’re gonna cut her off again?”

“I’m not going to cut her off, Jug,” Archie fired back.  “I know I screwed up last time, and I’m not planning on doing that again.  I just… I don’t want to think about that right now. I’d rather just ignorantly believe that (Y/N) will stay in Riverdale.”

“Archie,” Jughead placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, “you can’t put yourself through denial again.  It’s not good for you.”

“But it’s so much easier, Jug,” Archie sighed.  

“It may be easier now,” he warned, “but the consequences are more severe, Arch.  Think about when you acted like (Y/N) didn’t exist after she left. It may have been easier for you while she was gone, but when she came back, she was furious.  Imagine the kind of relationship the two of you could’ve had by now if you hadn’t been in denial for so long.”  Archie sighed at this, knowing that Jughead was right.  “You can postpone the pain, Archie, but you can’t prevent it.”


Two nights later, (Y/N) was staying over at the Andrews’s house.  Her parents were still at the courthouse.  She and Archie hovered over her phone all evening, awaiting the phone call that would announce who she had to live with.  The phone call that determined her fate.  

At around midnight, they gave up on waiting.  Archie and (Y/N) retired to Archie’s bedroom, where they curled up in the bed together. (Y/N) set her phone down on the nightstand, but she refused to take her eyes off of it.

“Go to sleep,” Archie mumbled, wrapping an arm around her waist.  (Y/N) shifted so that her back was pressed against his.

“I can’t,” she whispered. “What if they call and I’m asleep?”

“You turned your ringer volume all the way up, (Y/N),” he reminded her.  “If you’re asleep when they call, it’ll wake you up.”  (Y/N) sighed but didn’t respond.  Archie noticed her breathing began to slow down, so he figured she was falling asleep.  He, too, was beginning to drift off until a shrill ringing disturbed their sleepy silence.

“The phone!” (Y/N) exclaimed, immediately sitting up.  She, tangled in the bedsheets, rolled over towards the nightstand and quickly snatched her phone.  She pressed the answer button and held the phone to her ear.  Archie tried to listen to the other line, but he couldn’t hear it.

“Okay,” (Y/N) responded, nodding.  There was another break of silence as the person on the other line talked.  “And that’s the outcome?  It can’t be reversed?”  Another pause.  “Alright, thank you.”  She hung up the phone and slowly set it down.  Archie turned on the lamp as he stared at (Y/N).

“So?” he inquired.  “What happened?”  

“I’m staying,” (Y/N) muttered quietly, still in shock over the outcome.

“You’re staying?” Archie excitedly repeated.  “For good?”

“Yeah,” she grinned.  He tugged her into a tight hug.  “I’m staying in Riverdale, Arch!  I won’t leave you ever again.”  He slowly pulled out of the embrace and smiled at her.

“Good,” he replied, and he crashed his lips against hers.

Keep reading

What Lovers Do: Part 3

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You have a friend with benefits relationship with the Winter Soldier himself: Bucky Barnes. You two have gotten the routine down: wake up, train, mission, come home, have sex, then act like nothing happened. It’s worked for you for a while now. But now that Bucky’s starting to see someone seriously, you don’t know what to do with yourself.

Warnings: angst

A/N: I heard “I Hate Myself for Loving You” by Joan Jett on the radio and this helped me write this chapter. 

Part 1 | Part 2

Originally posted by jlstreck


You avoided Bucky for weeks after the incident in the kitchen. Everyone noticed a change in you and no one, but Steve understood. They often questioned him about it, but he said it wasn’t right for him to tell. Bucky pleaded with Steve. Begged on his knees.

“Please, Steve. If she’s hurting, I want to help! Why won’t she let me help?!” 

Keep reading

sheerpoetry7  asked:

67: “My clothes look really good on you.” Neil/Andrew? Pretty please? 🙏🏻

It’s sickly hot on the day they’re supposed to play their first match of the season, a late summer heat that peels the cold morning away and sweats people out of their layers.

Neil’s mostly used to discomfort, so he puts his head down and gets on the bus. The rest of the foxes complain dramatically and threaten to strip until Wymack blasts the air conditioning and cuffs a few heads.

Everyone zips their sweaters off and ties their hair up, starting the laborious process of nest-making for the duration of the 9 hour drive to Cleveland. Every time Neil looks Andrew is aloof and pristine, like the sun isn’t any better at getting under his armour than anyone else. 

If you’re looking properly, you can see sweat turning the ends of his hair up and darkening his temples. It’s a strange indignity that Andrew wears like a calculated choice.

Nicky presses his icy water bottle into the base of Neil’s neck, and he gasps, clutching for the source.

“He lives!” Nicky says. “I’ve been calling you for five minutes.”

“We’ve been on the bus for thirty seconds,” Neil snaps.

“Thirty seconds too long,” Nicky laughs, leaning over the back of his seat so his arms dangle over Neil’s lap. “You wanna come talk strategy with Kev?”

Neil meets Nicky’s bright eyes, overly conscious of Andrew at his back, mussed by the temperature. He feels buttery nostalgia for the three hours they spent talking on the way to Baltimore, teeth pulling his lip in the empty bus, opening doors and considering it a win when Andrew didn’t close them.

“We’ve been pouring over stats for two weeks,” Neil tells Nicky, purposefully looking out the window to avoid his gaze. “We’re walking in ready.”

“Ahh, you’d think that. But apparently we have ‘blind spots’ that need seeing to. So says her majesty.” Nicky smirks, nodding at Kevin over his shoulder.

“Is he vice captain?”

“No,” Nicky says, mouth already curling in satisfaction.

“Then tell him to fuck off.”

“With pleasure, Neil Josten,” Nicky says, overly dramatic, winking back at him as he wanders to Kevin’s seat.

“Are you finally sick of it?” Andrew asks, and Neil lets himself enjoy the thrum of satisfaction he gets whenever Andrew initiates things. He turns all the way around in his seat.

“Of exy? No. Of kevin, yes.”

Andrew’s cool eyes trip over the foxes and windows and coughing AC units, landing on Neil and settling. Neil feels a yank in his gut like someone caught him by the waist while he was running full speed.

“Give me your bag.”

The feeling ebbs in a distracted sort of way, and Neil frowns. “Why?”

Andrew looks away, eyelashes light and fine on his cheekbones when he blinks. Neil knows from experience that another five minutes of heat would have curled Andrew’s hair and flushed his cheeks and neck.

He wants to see that. Like if he could take Andrew off the bus and kiss him in the thick heat, it would fix the feeling in his stomach.

“I want something,” Andrew says simply.

Neil rolls his eyes, but stands anyway. “That’s new.” He sways with the bus as he wrestles his duffel bag from the overhead compartment, dropping it on the seat next to Andrew.

Andrew unzips the top halfway and peels back Neil’s meticulously packed layers. The bus nearly topples him, so he settles back in and watches Andrew work, charmed.

He seems to find what he’s looking for, and Neil sees a flash of black fabric and the blur of Andrew rising out of his seat and into the aisle.

“Where are you going?”

Andrew slides him an unimpressed look and walks to the bathroom installed in the back of the bus. Neil watches him go, wondering wildly if he’s supposed to follow him.

He glances back along the groove of the aisle and finds Kevin ignoring Aaron and Nicky to glare at him. Beyond him, Matt’s grinning at Dan as she talks one of the newcomers through a play, and Allison’s curled up with a sleep mask and Renee’s shoulder.

He sits back against the sun-hot window and lets the jerky motion of the road keep him alert. He looks back towards the closed bathroom door and forward again, curiosity shivering over him.

Andrew emerges a second later, and Neil’s mouth goes cottony dry.

He’s put on Neil’s shirt. It’s the one that goes high enough to cover the scars framing Neil’s collarbones when he’s wearing it, but it leaves his arms open. It was part of this layered ensemble that Andrew bought him over the summer, but he almost only wears it to sleep because it shows the thatched burns on his ribcage. It’s breezy and comfortable and it’s not the first time Andrew’s stolen it.

But he doesn’t usually wear it where people can see, with his sweaty hair pushed halfway back and his arms pink from the sun he caught on the roof yesterday.

He sweeps back into his seat and pulls one knee up to his chest, and Neil watches the orchestration of his muscles matching up and tensing.

Andrew’s finger enters his field of view, too close to focus on. “Get that look off your face.”

“Get my shirt off, then,” Neil says before he can clap a filter on it. Andrew splays his arm all over his lounging knee, and Neil can see a pale triangle of skin under his arm, which shouldn’t mean anything to him. It shouldn’t.

“I didn’t pack for 100 degrees,” Andrew says, voice mild.

“Good,” Neil blurts.“My clothes look really good on you.” He swallows, and Andrew blinks at him, a bored predator.

“That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard, Neil!” Nicky hollers from four seats up. Neil’s mouth pinches with annoyance. “I’ve fucked guys, and that’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“No one wants to hear that,” Aaron says, putting in earbuds and shoving over to the far end of his seat.

“I thought it was relevant context,” Nicky argues, and Kevin smacks him in the back of the head.

The front of the bus devolves into chaotic conversation, and Neil looks back at Andrew.

“I was serious.”

“I know you were.” This would be where he took a drag from his cigarette, if this was their rooftop. This would be where he kisses him. Neil watches him with that secret in his mouth, and when Andrew looks back, he can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

“It will not be a regular occurrence,” Andrew says. “Your wardrobe is barely fit for one person.”

“Right.” Neil smiles right behind his teeth, where it doesn’t show on his face. “I’m willing to take the hit.”

Andrew regards him over the seat back. “Aren’t you always?”

Neil leans in and drags his eyes deliberately over the column of Andrew’s neck on the way to his face. “I want to kiss you.”

Andrew tilts his head. “I can’t help you.”

Neil takes this without complaint, but he stays folded over the back of the seat. “This is enough,” he says, a foot between them, Andrew’s broad shoulders holding his shirt taut across them.

“Shouldn’t you be obsessing over the court by now?” Andrew asks, cleanly sidestepping Neil’s attention.

“It is a court,” Neil says, smiling. “It’ll still be there in nine hours.”

“And yet you drag us along three times a day to get your fix.”

“No one asks you to come.”

Andrew gives him a look and Neil huffs, looking at the ceiling like it’ll stop the thrill from showing on his face.

“But I’m glad you do.”

“You’re in a sharing mood today,” Andrew says, like he’s commenting on an unfortunate traffic jam.

Neil reaches out to finger the collar of his shirt, and he feels a hollow jerk go through Andrew when his knuckles brush his neck. “It must be the heat.”

Pregnant (Bill Skarsgård)

Based upon: Bill’s reaction to hearing you’re pregnant. 

She had spent the last half hour pacing around her and Bill’s cottage in Sweden, waiting for him to return home from grocery shopping. It was eating her up, she was desperate to tell him, yet she almost feared what he would say; they were not trying for a child.

Finally she got tired of walking around the brightly lit, marbled living room and decided to sit on the leather sofa. However, she could not be still, tapping her foot and twisting her fingers together. She began to think, ‘What if he didn’t want a child? It was coming out in just under two weeks and he was surely going to be signed for more movies once people had seen how incredible he was as the demotic clown. He was just at the beginning of his career, one that could go on for years. It would be unfair to hinder him… he wouldn’t wan this’ She kept on with these fearful thoughts until the sound of the wooden door opening snapped her back into reality.

She could hear the shuffle of his loafers in the kitchen, the sound of crinkling plastic as he set the bags down on the counter.

“Hey Babe.” He called, tone so nonchalant it made her even more nervous.

He began to put the food that would last them for the next five days into the fridge.

“Bill?” She said quietly, almost hoping he wouldn’t hear her.

“Yeah?” His voice came from the kitchen.

She sat frozen on the couch, legs crossed and a knitted, white blanket around her shoulders. Suddenly, she did not want to tell him.

“Babe?”

Her eyes snapped up, finding Bill standing in the doorframe. He was donning a black, wool jacket, dark jeans, russet coloured loafers and a confused expression.

She sank back against the supple fabric, then met Bill’s gaze. “I need to speak with you.” She announced cautiously.

He nodded, pale eyes filled with concern and he shrugged off his coat. Placing it on the table, he walked over to the couch she was sitting on.

Night had begun to fall, the once bright blue sky suddenly darker and painted with large streaks of burnt orange and small strokes of pale purple. The massive window in the room looked over the lake and gardens, both of which moved with the soft evening wind.

He took a seat beside her and she slowly turned towards him, pulling her legs into her chest. She was bracing herself for the worst.

“Are you alright?” He wondered.

She nodded. “I’m fine. I’m just…” She looked out the window, unable to bear the sight of his worried face. She took in the slowly lapping waves before speaking. “I love you.” She promised, tearing her eyes away from the outdoors and back to her boyfriend.

He took her small hand in his large one. “You can tell me anything okay? I love you too.” He assured her.

“Bill,” She took a deep breath, “I’m pregnant.”

Her whole body went stiff.

His pouty lips cracked into a wide smile and he pulled his lover into an embrace. It took her by surprise, her eyes were wide when he first hugged her, then went calm when she realized he was truly happy.

“I love you.” He breathed, lips near her ear. “I love you so fucking much, babe. You and our baby.” He finished.

She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. “Are you sure it’s alright? I mean, we weren’t planning for this and your career is just starting to really take off… I don’t want to jeopardize your future.” She explained.

He pulled back and took her face into his hands. “You will never been an inconvenience to me. I swear it.” He promised her, his voice deep and passionate.

She believed him by his tone and way his pale green eyes darkened as he stared at her. It was then that it hit her, they were going to have a baby.

“Hey- Babe,” He soothed when he saw her eyes gloss over, “what’s wrong?”

Her rosy lips broke into a smile, tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. “No, no, it’s just…” She looked into his eyes, “We’re actually doing this.”

He grinned back once he realized she was okay.

“We’re doing this.”


Five months had passed since Bill found out about her pregnancy and it had been one and a half months since he had seen her last. He hated leaving her for a month and a half to shoot a film, but she assured him she would be fine. It turned out she was fine, everything was going perfectly well with the pregnancy. Yet she was terrified for him to return.

She stood under the rainfall shower head, letting the lukewarm water cascade down her bare body. Bill was to be home in a week; she missed him dearly.

After her shower, she stood in the grand closet, grabbing a oversized flannel and sweatpants for the evening.

She dropped the fire red, silk robe Bill had bought her in Paris a year back and she caught her reflection in the rectangular floor to ceiling mirror placed beside her shoe collection. Her mouth dropped.

The first few months did not have much affect on her appearance, sure, she looked slightly bigger, but it was nothing incredibly noticeable. So when she took at the reflection, her heart sunk.

Immediately her mind went to her boyfriend, he had never seen her so large before. She wasn’t daft, obviously she would get bigger; she was growing a child inside of her, but Bill had left when she had just hit three and a half months. The idea that he would think she was ugly plagued her thoughts. There were so many stories on the internet and news about men who had left, cheated or refused to sleep with their partner because they were 'fat.’ Bill wasn’t like those cruel men, he would never do something like that to her. Despite that comforting knowledge, she still felt like shit.

The front door opened and she heard the thump of his bags on the hardwood floor.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m home!” He called.

“I’m in the living room, Babe.” She replied, snuggling deeper into the soft blanket.

He strode down the hall and into the living room, smiling at the sight of her curled up on the sofa.

“How are you feeling?” He wondered.

She smiled, “Everything’s going well.”

He knelt down and hand his large hand through her fine hair. “Do you have an Ultrasound soon?” He asked.

“A week fews.” She said easily, yet felt so relieved. She was wearing an incredibly large sweatshirt over her black joggers, so he couldn’t see the difference.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and gave her a chaste kiss before standing, “Alright. Are you hungry? I can make stir fry soon if you’d like.”

She gave him a small smile, he really was a great boyfriend. “Yes, thank you.” She responded.

He headed off to the kitchen.


They had always taken showers together with the exception of the days Bill had to get up at the crack of dawn to shoot scenes for a movie.

She did not want to shower with him anymore.

He found her in a bubble bath one night, orange candles being the only source of light in the room. Her eyes snapped open at the sound of the bathroom door opening.

“I thought you went out.” She said, a bit too quickly.

He watched as she sank further into the bubbles, leaning her head against the smooth porcelain tub.

“I was supposed to meet Alex but I didn’t want to leave you.” He explained.

He moved to the vanity and leaned against the counter, hands holding the granite.

“You should go. I’m fine here.” She said, trying to sound encouraging.

He shook his head. “What’s going on, Babe? You’ve been… distant ever since I got back.” He confessed.

“No, everything is fine Bill. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” She apologized.

He sighed and sauntered across the bathroom until he reached the tub where he knelt down onto his knees. Her breath hitched in her throat as he reached his hand out to stroke her neck, moving down to her collarbone. Never had she felt uncomfortable when he touch her. In fact, it was quite the opposite; the feeling of his hands all over her body was something she used to crave. He made her feel good.

But when his hand slipped below the water, she immediately pulled away from him. She couldn’t look into his eyes, knowing they would be filled with worry and confusion.

“Babe…” He said softly.

He definitely knew something was up now.

Her back was pressed against the opposite side of the tub, hands gripping the porcelain on either side of her and her the tops of her slightly larger breasts were exposed. Her breathing was heavy.

“Please tell me what’s going on.” He pleaded.

She could hear the desperation in his voice and she knew it was unfair to keep him in the dark about what she was going through.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

She lifted her eyes to meet his, chest still rising and falling quicker than usual.

His heart broke at the sight of her.

“I just want to be alone.” She whispered, breaking contact with him.

He knew that she wanted her space, she had completely shut him out.


She woke in an instant when she felt movement in her stomach. Immediately, she sat up in bed, her breaths turning laboured and hand clutching her large belly.

Beside her, Bill opened his eyes at the commotion. When he saw her sitting up, he threw the sheets back and rose, watching her with concern.

“What’s wrong?” He asked quickly.

Her eyes widened when she understood it was their baby kicking.

“No- nothing! Bill they’re kicking!” She exclaimed, dramatically relieved.

He let out a deep breath.

“Can I?” He asked softly.

Her wide smile dropped as she looked at him.

“Please tell me.”

She sighed and took his hand in her right hand, with the other she pulled her red and black flannel above her stomach and placed it on her large bump.

He understood.

“You’re beautiful.” He leaned down to kiss her stomach. “You’re absolutely stunning.” He promised her.

She ran her fingers in his messy brown hair, combing through the small tangles. He sat up and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her passionately.

He loved her, no matter what.

Touch of Your Love

 Hey guys! This is an imagine based on this textpost: “when his hands are so nice u just want him to put his fingers in your mouth.” When I saw it, I was like…. me @ Tom…? Basically, it’s as smutty and fluffy as they come, so I hope y'all like it!

Touch of Your Love

She loved his hands because they always engulfed her own.

She loved his hands because they were always warm, but never sweaty, or ever cold.

She loved his hands because they would always be there to guide her to safety.

She loved Tom’s hands because of all the things they did to her in the vehemence of their everlasting moments together.

They would wind themselves like vines against her skull, softly aiding her to wherever he wanted her the most. Sometimes, if Tom couldn’t wait, they’d hold her down against his touch while he worked his fingers, tongue, or hips against her.

Pressing her legs together, she cursed herself for thinking of Tom’s hands when she should be focusing on her professor’s lecture.

There was an in-class discussion occurring about Tennessee Williams’s play, ‘A Streetcar Named Desire,’ which happened to be one of her favorite plays, but she just couldn’t get Tom’s hands, and everything she’d like them to do to her, out of her head.

Her mind wandered to their morning together.

Whenever he was in town, they’d always stay together, no matter what the two had going on individually the next day.

Tom awoke earlier than she did, even though he didn’t need to be up yet because he had a rare free day from work, and he’d turned off her alarm and instead kissed her awake.

After he’d managed to untangle her from him, Tom had gently pushed her hair from the nape of her neck to pepper it with kisses. Then, he pressed hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down her body, and over the sweater she’d stolen from him to wear bed.

Stirring slightly, she shifted in bed, causing the fabric of the sweater to reveal her midriff. Tom thanked the goddess of love for this blissful opportunity, and began trailing his fingers up and down her body.

She moaned in her sleep and Tom smirked, cracking his knuckles.

He dipped his calloused fingers into the sweet, pink panties she wore and tapped his forefinger against her clit, moving his mouth up to tease her neck with warm licks and kisses.

“Wake up darling,” his voice rasped against the base of her throat.

She awoke, wide-eyes and wet, with Tom’s untamed curls tickling her collarbones and Tom’s fingers preparing to curl inside her.

“Look at you, so lovely and ethereal.” Tom meant it too. He just couldn’t wrap his brain around how she always managed to look like an unearthly, delicate fairy when she awoke, while he resembled an exhausted bear. “Let me give you something to think about while you’re in class.”

Barely rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she burrowed her head back into her pillow and whined.

Tom didn’t make any move to further her pleasure, instead he propped himself up on one elbow to observe her clearer.

Wiggling her hips around, she tried to make Tom understand that she so desperately wanted him to give her something to think about in class.

“You know what I need.” Tom said.

She knew that Tom was waiting for her consent to go further, just as he always did. He always wanted to make sure that she was okay with what they were doing, so he always gave her time to agree or disagree.

“Please Tom,” she finally breathed out, curling her own tiny hand around his wrist.

With that, Tom moved in to kiss her, dragging her off the pillows, so that she’d be closer to where he needed her to be.

Her hair had fanned out around her head in an oh-so-fitting halo, Tom thought.

His mouth pressed urgently against her soft lips and his hands pushed her underwear down and she kicked them off the bed.

Tom hitched one of her legs around his waist, and cradled her hips to his own, his morning wood pushing against the warmth of her center.

Bringing a hand up to his mouth, he sucked three fingers into his mouth to slick them with saliva. She could’ve moaned at the sight.

Tom snuck his fingers back down to where she ached for him, and he pressed one against her clit.

“Fuck,” Tom groaned, doing his best to maintain his cool, “you’re fucking drenched for me. Did you wake up with this in mind, sweet girl?”

Her eyes rolled back when Tom slid a finger inside of her, doing his best to help her prepare for his others.

“Dreamt about you last night sweetheart. You were on this bed, lingerie and heels, all for me. Said you’d been a fucking bad girl and needed a punishment, so I had to drag you over my knee and spank you till your ass was cherry red.” Tom knew she loved being talked to in bed.

Tom couldn’t figure out why, but she was still shy and a little uncertain of herself when she was with him, and it made her feel better, and less embarrassed, to know how badly Tom wanted her too.

He rubbed the palm of his hand against her clit and used his other hand to press her bucking hips back down onto the bed.

Tom guided another finger into her and she gasped his name.

“And then I wake up, and see you looking like a fucking angel, all curled up against my chest, and it was too much, darling. I could feel you breathing, and hear you gasping in your sleep. And then I thought, I gotta fucking have you before you go to class, you’re too much, baby.”

Her thighs squeezed him closer to her and she kissed him, ever so softly, on the throat, her hands guiding themselves up to the nape of his neck.

Tom could tell that she was close, she always held onto him when she came.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you angel? Let me see you cum, darling, I need something think about after you’ve gone too. Come on, darling, let me see you finish.” Tom curled his finger inside her and mercilessly rubbed her clit.

She screamed and tried uselessly to lift her hips off the bed to force his fingers to delve deeper inside of her.

“Tom, please, please please.” Her eyes were fluttering, unable to stay open because she was too focused on Tom’s hands.

“What is it, m’love? Want another? Ask me politely and I’ll give it to you. You know that I’d give you everything, you just need to ask.” Tom kissed her lips and used the hand on her hips to trace hearts on her bare skin.

“Tom,” she was barely breathing, “please, I need another one.” She tried to shift her hips up to meet his hand, but Tom only smirked and held her down firmer.

“Of course, darling. All you had to do was ask.” And with that, Tom slid in another finger and began to use his thumb to draw the words, ‘I love you,’ on her clit and he wanted her shake, and moan, and grip his shoulders.

“Cum, my sweet girl, you’re alright, I’m here. Cum.” Tom ordered, and with that, she did.

Her legs shaking, and her body trembling, and countless ‘I love yous’ fell freely from her lips.

Tom wished that there was some way to bottle up those words, so that he could hear them, breathed into his ear whenever he wished.

He held her close and rubbed her back while she recovered from her early morning orgasm, and he counted each freckle that painted her skin.

“Wanna help me clean up?” Tom asked, bringing the hand that she’d gushed all over, up to her lips.

She tipped her head back opened her mouth, clearly understanding what Tom meant, and he dipped his fingers into the wet confines of her mouth.

Her lips closed behind his hand as she sucked and licked his fingers clean of her.

“Holy fuck,” Tom groaned, rubbing himself through his boxers.

She released him with a pop and Tom hurled himself at her, winding his hands into her hair as her pulled her on top of him.

Sitting so she straddled his lap, she smiled at him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” Tom murmured, looking up at her and lovingly stroking her thighs. “Go on and get ready, or else I won’t be able to let you leave.”

She clamored from his lap with shakey legs and crossed to the bathroom to begin her morning routine.

Tom laid back in bed, tugging at himself softly while she pranced around the room, removing shirt after shirt, before finally cheekily smiling at him over her shoulder as she settled on one of his sweaters.

He removed his hand from his pants and walked to the door to kiss her goodbye, promising to pick her up for lunch after school.

As she walked to her friend’s waiting car, she looked back and blew him a kiss before rushing to the vehicle.

When Tom had finally seen her off, he leaned up against the door and jacked himself so hard that when he came, he shouted her name.

Little did he know, that now, in her lecture, all she could think about was wrapping her pretty, pink lips around the length of his cock.

Touch-and-go

 Pairing; Kim Namjoon x Reader

 Words; 8.6k

Genre; Angst, fluff, smut

Summary; You had fallen for Namjoon, the guy you’ve been sharing an apartment with a long time ago, but he wasn’t the type to settle down into a relationship. One night you both end up sleeping together, but what then would become of your relationship?

Keep reading