but bless this man and what he stands for

apprenticedmagician  asked:

Andreil with an In The Moment Kiss from that kiss prompt post! Just like their first one ^w^ <3

Neil genuinely does enjoy spending time with Matt. 

After a little cajoling on Matt’s part, he finally ended up convincing Neil that they were, in fact, best friends, and as a testament to that friendship they often have movie nights (“you’ve missed so many, Neil!”) in which Neil actually watches the movies, stupid as they were.

However, when Andrew is around, the movie is the last thing on Neil’s mind.

Neil had been feeling a bit off for a few days, for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint which seemed to make it all that much worse. Andrew’s steady presence helped, but it wasn’t a cure. Neil could tell that both of them were on edge from waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it was still up in the air and out of sight with no signs of coming down any time soon. So, when he told Andrew “Matt wants me to come over for movie night,” Andrew silently stood from his desk and followed Neil out the door and down the hall. 

Matt looked surprised to see Andrew there when he opened the door to his dorm but didn’t comment on it, just offering them up the couch and sinking into the armchair after hitting the ‘play’ button on the remote. Neil sat with his legs splayed perpendicularly over Andrew’s lap, leaning into his side and letting Andrew prop him up. If it were any of the other foxes, Neil wouldn’t have felt comfortable being so close to Andrew, but it was just Matt, who was smart enough not to tease either of them as the opening credits rolled.

For the first half of the movie, Neil paid close enough attention to remember the plot and the main character’s name. He keeps up conversation with Matt over the dramatic explosions, and is content to lean against Andrew and take comfort in the reassuring hand on his thigh. Andrew, for all Neil can tell, is bored out of his mind, but isn’t bored enough to leave Neil alone with Matt.

As a slower scene comes on Neil feels Andrew’s attention shift, and glances at him to find Andrew unabashedly staring at him, still bored but more attentive than before. Silently, as to not alert Matt, Neil rolls his eyes and nods to the screen, a nonverbal apology for subjecting him to the movie, even though Andrew chose to come along and has chosen to stay up until this point.

Neil thinks that Andrew will probably just ignore him, but instead, his eyebrow quirks ever so slightly and his hand on Neil’s thigh tightens, just enough so that its placement feels more purposeful than coincidental.

Keep reading

  • Jack Morrison: *does a few push-ups very confidently*
  • Jack Morrison: *smiles and does a few more one handed push-ups*
  • Jack Morrison: *looks over and sees Zenyatta doing a hand stand on one finger while he artfully floats several omnic orbs and then blesses everyone around him*
  • Jack Morrison: ...
  • Jack Morrison: ...
  • Jack Morrison: ...what the fuck, man.

anonymous asked:

What Steve just did was so important. Louis literally never has anyone on his corner, publicly. His team bashes him and bashes him some more, and no one takes the stand for Louis. Not publicly. And then there's Steve, who every chance he was praises Louis, not just for his talent, but for the amazing human being he is. And that's so fucking important. And once again, he publicly stands up for Louis. Bless him! Honestly, bless this man!

Steve has been absolutely amazing! 

bring that fire, babe (tom holland imagine/oneshot)

a/n: based on “kiss me”by olly murs.

I got this idea when Tom was asked to sing electricity in that one interview with Peter Travers (?) and he got all shy and flustered. I know he doesn’t sing in public anymore (unless bribed with popcorn ;)) but I liked imagining him liking someone so much he would force himself to get over that fear and sing anyways.



If you guys wanna send me requests, please feel free!

xx NK

p.s. thank you for all the support on my other imagines. More of my stories are on my wattpad account: norcula. Masterlist also in my bio. 


The cold wind of New York City bit into my skin as I clutched my coat closer to my body. Even with Harrison walking beside me and the rest of the Hoco gang swarming around me, I was chilled to the bone.


I think I nodded when Haz asked. But I’m not too sure.

Tom turned back to look at the two of us. His eyes glazed over me for a moment before he looked to Harrison for confirmation of something. Confused, I watched his jaw clench and he turned back once again.

What’s his problem?

The gang filed in through a door one after the other as I watched Zendaya holler. Tom looked positively horrified, which was both entertaining and concerning. Haz held the door open for me and I followed behind them-only to realise why Tom had reacted the way he had.

It was a karaoke bar.

“Nope! Nope! I’m leaving! Goodbye!”

I bolted back towards the door but Haz got a hold of me. With the biggest shit eating grin, his hands moved from my shoulders to my arms as he quite literally revolved me around to face the stage.

Tom and I exchanged a look of mutual horror.

It was one of the things we had bonded over when we first met. Granted, I had barely known the guy. But he had opened up to me almost immediately. That coupled with the fact we were friends with the same people, more or less living on the set of the same movie, was it really surprise I liked him more immensely than I should have?

Zendaya’s enthusiasm broke me out of my almost panic attack. I noticed Haz’s hands were still on me and when he realised it too, he moved them away quickly.

“Who’s first?”

She had a microphone in her hand that Jacob quickly grabbed. The rest of the gang broke out into applause as we took a seat at the table closest to the stage. He bowed several times and performed a great version of “Uptown Funk”. Returning to the table, he was greeted with high-fives and “YASS bro”.

I swallowed hard.

Zendaya was next. She did what she did best-worked what little crowd there was with “Yoncé”, dishing out moves akin to Queen B herself. Everyone in that dark, dingy hole in the ground honoured her with a standing ovation worthy of the Oscars ceremony.

As one by one took a turn, sometimes offering me or Tom to take a turn first, my anxiety just got worse and worse. I turned to Tom, who looked much the same.

In the dim lighting of the bar, his hair was so many shades of dark and light, it was hard to pinpoint on any exact one. He ran a hand through it, making me question what shampoo he used because it looked so soft. His eyes raked up and down the floor as he fidgeted with his fingers. I was surprised to see myself doing almost the same thing.

When his eyes turned to me, I froze though.

Unaware of what I should do, I quickly turned away to Harrison. He was on his feet, flashing me his signature smirk. He passed me to quickly whisper something into Tom’s ear. His eyes widened. But otherwise, he didn’t react.

He looked to me once from across the table and then looked back to the stage.

What the hell is going on?

“Hello people of New York City!”

Harrison said loudly, sounding like a baseball commentator. His voice actually boomed so loud, static floated through the air nearly deafening us all.

“Sorry about that.”

He almost whispered. I laughed a little, rubbing my hands on my trousers. My foot tapped to its own accord as he leaned in a little closer to speak once more.

“Unfortunately, you shan’t be blessed with my vocals right now.”

The gang and I exchanged looks of confusion. It seemed like no one knew what the actual hell was going on.

“Instead, give it up for my best mate, Thong-ass!”

I heard myself laughing at the nickname he’d given his friend after a little incident where Tom had to be scanned for the Spider-man suit wearing just a thong, revealing most of his ass.

But I could also see Haz almost literally pull Tom from his seat at the table. Jacob helped push him forward too until he found himself standing on stage.

He stood still, looking completely scared out of his mind.

I could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, looking like he had to do this or die trying.

Tom gripped the microphone in his hand as the opening notes began to play.

And I recognised them instantly.


I looked to my left to see Haz smirking. Dumbfounded by what was happening, Tom opened his mouth. And the room filled with a clear, accented voice singing the lyrics to one of my favourite songs of all time- “kiss me” by Olly Murs.

I was transfixed by the way he seemed to be just singing to me-making eye contact, reaching his hand out as if to touch me. I watched in awe as he not only hit every note but carried himself so well on stage it no longer surprised me that he once led a musical on the West End. He moved around effortlessly, emphasizing just where he had to and hitting that sweet high note near the end like a pro.

The song ended and I felt myself getting to my feet and clapping like a seal trapped in the body of a mad woman. At least, that’s what Haz told me later that night.

Tom looked shyly at his feet and then joined us back again. I felt myself floating towards him. But instead of offering my heartiest congratulations, I stood by and stared.

I stared because I was so wildly attracted to him.

I mean, who wouldn’t be?

He was smart and charismatic. He danced and acted and apparently sang like an angel. He was the perfect combination of humble and a narcissistic twat. That and he looked like a leading man out of a Jane Austen novel.

Even surrounded by our friends and their attention, his eyes found mine. He sidestepped to stand right in front of me-so close that I could feel his breath in my hairline. I could smell his cologne in the air between us. I could feel my heart beat like a freight train getting ready to run itself off track.

“You were great. That was a great song choice…..and uh, you were just….you were amazing.”

I managed to stutter out. Embarrassed by how tongue-tied I was, I looked up to see him licking his lips. Gone was the stuttering mess of a man who was just talking to our friends a minute ago. Now, there was this confident looking man with darkening eyes, wearing just a hint of shyness and apprehension.

“Glad you thought so. It was all for you.”

My heart quite literally stopped. Despite my instincts to fall back or run away, I looked up at him. And found not one trace of insincerity in his eyes. His fingers laced with mine as he closed the distance between us.

“If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been flirting with you-have been all year.”

I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck to lower his face to my level.

“And you’ve been shit at it.”

I teased.


He asked. I nodded. He smirked and pulled me so close our bodies were pressed together. Then he kissed me so hard, I thought we were both going to be knocked down. Our lips moved together until the clearing of voices and not-so-subtle sneezing and other noises caused us to separate.

Tom smiled at our friends and turned back to me to say.

“How about now?”

“S’okay. It’ll get better with practice though.”

“Yeah? You offering?”

He asked, smirking like no tomorrow. But I could see the glimmer of hope and excitement in his eyes too.

“Yeah-I am.”

Prométeme - Zach Dempsey x Reader

Request - “Hii could you do a 13rw/Hispanic reader x Zach where there both besties but secretly like each other but never will admit it…”

A/N: I actually did a lot of research for this one, as I didn’t want to be culturally false or insensitive, but still be able to portray the Hispanic character. Apologies if it has come across wrong, and please let me know! *the abuelo says “one language is not enough” and “I liked the guy when I met him. he is handsome. Is he rich? What does your mother think?” the title means “promise me”. Please correct me on anything that is wrong!

“Please, Zach? It’s just one night and you know you love me…” you begged your best friend, Zach, to come to your annual family party, which was always a huge bore. You came from a very large Hispanic family who took this opportunity every year to join everyone together. Problem was, you were one of the few youngest bar your baby cousin and always had to answer questions about your future etc etc.

“There’s booze, right?” He asked as he opened up his locker.

“Yes. Plenty.” You nodded. He was silent for what felt like ages. “And hone-”

“I’m in.” He interrupted.

“You just wanted to make me sweat, didn’t you?” You hit him jokingly.

“Obviously.” He turned to walk to his class.

“Asshole.” You called after him.

You and Zach had been friends since kindergarten, after he’d given you his spade in the sandpit. The other kids had teased you for making a bad sandcastle, but Zach had come to your rescue. And he had continued to do that in all the years ever since that day, and you to his. You trusted Zach unconditionally, he was your rock through everything. However, the only issue was the small problem of your not-so-small crush on him. Honestly, it wasn’t even a big crush, it was full-blown-deep-down feelings for your best friend.

It wasn’t entirely clear to you when this had happened, but sometime around puberty you had noticed that you loved the way Zach laughed only when he was with you, and how his hair poked up without any product in it.

Both your families were very traditional, but culturally different, which sometimes caused issues. However, you and Zach remained strong throughout.


Your parents had already left for your abuela’s and abuelo’s home, leaving you to arrive with Zach.

Although it wasn’t a majorly fancy party, you always had to dress a little on the nice side. So you’d decided to wear a summery yellow dress.

“Beautiful, as always.” Zach was leaning at your door, you hadn’t even notice him come in.

“Pffft. Hey Zach.” You scoffed, taking one last look at your reflection, before joining him at the door. “You ready?” You gave him a knowing smirk, he had no idea what was coming.


“Promise me you won’t stop being my best friend after this?” You whispered up at Zach as you made your way into the house.

He chuckled as if the idea was absolutely insane, but before he’d had a chance to respond, you were greeted by one of many. The uncle who you could only vaguely remember sauntered up to you and kissed you on both cheeks.

“Chula! Muy buenos! Oh! And who is this young man here?” He looked Zach up and down. “Boyfriend?” He nudged you with his elbow.


“Boyfriend?! Y/N has a boyfriend? Why have I not heard this before!” His wife came up to stand beside him.

“Oh well-”

“You two make the sweetest couple!” She enthused, jumping up and down a little. “Sofia will be so excited!” You remembered Sofia from the previous year, she was one of the few who were your age.

“Thank you, Miss. We appreciate your blessing. I’m Zach.” Zach held his hand out for her to shake. What was he doing? He basically just told them you were dating! Disagreeing at this point would only make things more difficult.

“Yes, thank you. We should probably go and greet everyone else now, but it was lovely to see you.” You smiled warmly at the two in front of you, before dragging Zach in a way that was rough, but looked tender, off to a corner.

“What in the hell was that?!” You whisper shouted. Zach shrugged his shoulders.

“Seemed like the best way outta there.” He was grinning slightly, evidently pleased that he’d peeved you off.

“I hate you.” You shook your head.

“Love you too, girlfriend.” He winked as he moved you into the centre of the room.

“Did I hear that correctly? You’re Y/N’s boyfriend?” Asked your Abuelo. He had met Zach on occasion.

You looked up at Zach reluctantly. “Yes Abuelo. You’ve met Zach before?” You smiled sweetly.

“Oh yes, lovely boy. I’m glad you picked this one. ¿Hablas español?” He turned to Zach, who looked slightly baffled. On realising his lack of response, Abuelo muttered to himself; “Un idioma nunce es suficiente.”

You rolled your eyes at this, since he clearly didn’t actually ask if he could speak more than one language or not.

“Me gustó el tipo cuando lo conocí. es guapo. ¿Es rico? Que piensa tu madre?” He grabbed your shoulder. You chuckled. Your abuelo was always very overprotective of you.


After sufficiently convincing many family members at the party of your relationship, Sofia approached you and Zach.

“A few of us are gonna go upstairs and watch some horror movies. You in?”

You looked at Zach, your eyes nodding at him.

The room was fairly packed due to the small space, but there was an unoccupied beanbag in the corner, big enough for you and Zach. The other teens were already comfortable.

“Hey, Y/N! Who’s this?” Asked a boy in the corner.

“This is Zach.” You motioned to your best friend.

“I’m her boyfriend.” He gave a small wave, warranting a small shove in the side from you.

In all honestly, you loved hearing the words come from his mouth, but the whole thing hurt so much more knowing they weren’t true.

The girls gave each other a few looks and giggles, noticing how attractive Zach was. You internally rolled your eyes.

About half an hour into the film, you started to feel afraid. Despite your desperate attempts to disguise your fear, Zach still noticed. Being in the corner of the room, no one could hear you two say the occasional word to the other.

“Come here,” he whispered into your ear, pulling you into him. You folded Into him like paper, using him as a stable reminder that what was happening on screen was not real life. Inhaling his strawberry scent, which smelt like home, you gripped one of his hands.

“Easy, tiger. I’m not unbreakable.”

Despite his verbal complaints, (which were lacklustre, at best), Zach drew circles on your back with his spare hand, and rubbed his cheek against your hair.

“SHIT!” You screamed, when a jump scare came up on the screen, causing you to curl into Zach even more than before.

“It’s okay, baby.” He whispered into your hair, gripping your hand. The term surprised you, as Zach has never called you as such before, but you were in too much of a state to complain. Apparently, the term surprised Zach too, as he had a look of ‘I’m-kicking-myself-right-now’, which slowly turned into an expression of ‘fuck-it’.

What you had no idea of, was the fact that Zach himself had reciprocated your feelings, always assuming you’d never feel the same. He’d decided tonight that he couldn’t go on any longer pretending he felt nothing for you.

After another jump scare, Zach’s hand was red from how much you’d squeezed it.

“Shhh, you’re safe, i’m here.”

“You know what i Said earlier?” You finally spoke to him. “About disowning me as a best friend?”

He chuckled as he had the first time.

“I can promise you that I won’t stop being your best friend, but I can’t promise you that that’s all I’ll be.”

You didn’t understand. Were you hearing him correctly? Did he really just insinuate what you thought he had?

“Do you mean-?” You had contorted your body so that you were facing him now, completely ignoring what was happing on screen or in the rest of the room.

Zach gulped a little, clearly trying to conceal nerves. “I really fucking like you, Y/N, and not just as my best friend.”

“Are you taking the piss because I’m scared?”

He looked hurt. “I’d never! I’ve been so worried this would ruin our entire friendship, but I realised recently that although you probably don’t feel the same, our friendship is strong enough to get past this. I just realised I had to tell you.” He loosened his grip around you slightly, showing that he was feeling unsure.

Without words, you smiled and leaned your head up to his, pecking him on the lips.

“I really fucking like you too, boyfriend.”

a mafia!sehun scenario pt.1 

(a combination of angst, smut and fluff. You have been warned.)

… … … … … … … … .  … …… … …  … … … … . 

Your red tartan shirt bristles behind you as you march, furious, towards the dancing neon lights that adulterate the street ahead of them. Kyungsoo had gone out. Again. Barley a week after promising to become less involved in mafia business and he’d slipped away from your shared apartment the second your back had been turned. Your brother’s lack of sincerity hurt, but what really fuelled your rage was the greater, heart-rendering betrayal you’d stumbled upon not an hour ago. Your boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, with his face buried between another’s woman legs. For weeks you’d suspected him of an affair, but to have it materialized in front of you had been too much to handle. You’d cried angry, shameful tears and stumbled home, in hopes of finding your older brother’s comfort and warmth. Instead, the house was cold and empty, and the nearest trace of your beloved big brother was a scrawled apology on a ripped piece of paper.

So yeah, you were pissed. And you weren’t about to let Kyungsoo get away with it. You knew how often he frequented this club, though you’d never actually visited it in person before, and that it was a place his gang would often strike deals with neighbouring groups.

You knew very little about Kyungsoo’s group, mostly because he refused to tell you anything or ever let you meet with any of the members. Not that you were exactly pleading for him to let you. He knew how much you hated that part of his life – the gangs, the money, the fights. You had no idea in what the hell he was involved in, but you knew it wasn’t even a little bit legal. He’d come home bloodied and bruised so many times that you were coming to be pretty handy with the makeshift doctor’s kit you kept underneath the kitchen sink. But no matter how many times you would complain about how this life was hurting him, he’d always simply reaffirm the same, undeniable truth – you needed the money. At which point, your yelling would abruptly cease, as you could offer no worthy response – he was right, you really, really needed the money.

You think however, slamming through the club’s dingy doors, that you’re not completely clueless about this part of Kyungsoo’s life. He’ll occasionally let slip some crucial piece of information that you’ve built up a fairly solid background. His gang – exo – run your area. They’re a group of 9 men and you think perhaps the leader was.. Suho, was it? Something like that. But you know that while they’re in control of the local area, they are not the absolute power at the front of it. They’re one of many gangs that help control the whole of Seoul for the big boss. That’s what you’ve taken to calling them, since Kyungsoo absolutely refuses to disclose any clues about their identity. You’re not aware of much else, other than that exo has had to regularly defend their territory lately, so Kyungsoo had been coming home more bloodied and bruised than ever. It worried you to no extent, but you knew that he would never leave his gang. Because as much as you were his sister, they were all his brothers, and his level of devotion to them ran deep. But he had swore he would spend less time out on these jobs, and the clear disregard for your wishes stung deep.

The club seems so busy that the walls themselves vibrate. Everywhere you turn, people slam against one another with shuddering fervour, and more than once you are jostled violently to the side. Craning your neck, you hope to catch a glimpse of Kyungsoo’s dark hair in the crowd, but with this many people and the twitching purple lights, it’s impossible to see. Your fists clench as you attempt to  reign in your growing anger and, thinking you see an opening in the middle of the floor, you push towards it.

It takes a considerable time, but eventually you manage to squirm your way to the forefront of the crowd. In the middle of the floor, two boys dance opposite each other, mirroring the other’s moves in a routine like motion. Around them, the partygoers cheer ferociously and stomp their feet to the beat of the mismatched song. You sigh irritably and scan around the room. From this angle, you realize there is a seating area above the floor. It trails around the room with a number of plush purple comforters at different points, tables situated between them. You growl, realizing this is Kyungsoo’s likely location.

Your attention is drawn back to the boys for a moment as the audience’s approval rears up once again in thunderous applause. You cringe slightly, and then realize it is because the floor beneath them has opened up and is now sprouting water, soaking their clothes.

And yes, you’re angry, very much so, but, well you know how to appreciate a nice view, alright? You’re so lost in the fluidity of the dance for a moment, the stark contrast of the boy’s physiques and their opposing blonde and black hair that you fail to realize everyone around you has moved back, and that you are a definite two paces in front of the crowd with water sloshing at your ankles, impatient shouts ringing at your ears.

Cursing at your own mindless ogling, you try to take advantage of the situation and glance up to see if you can better see Kyungsoo. However, as your eyes drift upwards, they connect with the blonde boy in front of you. His movements have paused, realizing your stance, and he seems to be assessing you, almost. His hair, wet and tousled, bats impatiently around his forehead, only lightly obscuring his dark eyes. The water drips untroubled down the long bridge of his nose and puckering over his full lips, before leading a dangerous path towards his lean and open chest. His attire, you note, leads very little to imagine, with his white shirt soaked through and ripped open, and his dark jeans equally distressed, clinging tight to his skin.

You snap out of your undignified gawking and clear your throat awkwardly, realizing he is smirking at you.

You’ve never been very good at holding the gaze of people so attractive they make your eyes hurt, so you look down immediately, blushing darkly. You hurry to stumble back into the safety of the crowd, but just as you begin to move, so does he. Suddenly, he seems to barrel towards you, as in, literally right towards you so that he is practically running at the crowd. Your eyes widen in considerable shock and you’re hurrying to distance yourself when he leaps into the air, twisting his limbs in a stance that frankly seems both unnatural and dangerous when-

He lands at your feet, on his knees, with his head hanging in front of you. The crowd roars their approval and, running his hands through his hair, he turns to look up at you, grinning this time. His boldness shocks you, though you can’t deny how attractive the sudden confidence is. You’re on the verge of grinning back when your eyes flick south again and realize the red ink on his shirt. Your eyes darken as you take it in, recognizing the same mark on Kyungsoo’s jacket at home. You know exactly what type of mark that is.

Of course. A man lands literally on his knees in front of you and he too, is involved in the mafia. What a blessed, blessed day.

Your interest evaporates instantly and you sigh audibly as he stands, especially when you realize his frame dwarfs your own. He blinks down at you, body still very, very close to your own and quirks an eyebrow at your admittedly not very club like attire.

“Enjoy the show?” He asks, eyes crinkled in a half smile as he leans down slightly.

You match his eyebrow quirk with your own and reaching your hand up, flick some of the water from his performance at his face.

“I’ve seen better.”

Over his shoulder you finally catch a glimpse of your traitorous brother, laughing loudly in a booth with a red haired man in front of him. Your earlier feelings of anger are quickly recalled at the sight, and glowering at the image, you shoulder roughly past the still-smirking man in front of you and slosh loudly through the water stage. You catch the grin of his dark haired partner as you do so, but make no effort to return such niceties – you are much, much too angry for that.

You land in front of your brother will a dull thud, water dripping from your jeans. He and the men around him turn to look at you in interest, but this quickly turns into panic as Kyungsoo realizes who it is standing, glowering in front of him.


“What the actual fuck Kyungsoo?”

He stumbles around to exit the booth and the members around him seem shocked at your tone. If you were perhaps calmer, more in control of your rational sense, you would perhaps note that these people around him are the infamous exo gang and have absolutely no clue as to who or what you are, or what you are doing.

“Y/n, calm down-“

“Don’t you dare!” You growl, snatching away from him as he attempts to placate your flailing limbs. In the process, your hand reaches up and strikes against his cheek, and though the men behind him make small sounds of outcry, he only stares at you.  

“You promised me, you promised-“ Your voice continues to raise as your hysteria does, and now not only him, but the men around him reach forward to steady you.

“Little sister, you’re making a scene.” He mutters quietly, latching onto your wrist, a slight red blossoming on his cheek.

Little sister? D.O, what’s going on?” From behind him a tall man asks, taking you in quietly. You glare at him in response, and his gaze hardens.

D.O? D.O? Is that what they call you here?” You hiss. “Is this who you are, D.O?” You question sarcastically and his grip on your wrist tightens.

He leans toward you darkly, ignoring the questioning shouts of the men behind him.

“This is not a place for you, y/n. Go. Home.” He punctuates his last two words harshly, though you see the quick scan he does behind you and realize faintly, that a small crowd has gathered to spectate. Still, unwilling to back down, your matching dark eyes challenge his.

“Go with me.”

You realize that you have laid out a very clear and obvious choice in front of him, and so does he. His eyes widen slightly at what you appear to be asking of him, but you refuse to submit to the hurt that blossoms there. He watches you for a few moments longer before sighing angrily and releasing your wrist so abruptly that it seems to fling across the small space between you. He backs away from you and stands in front of the men in front of him, closer to them than he is to you.

“Who’s the girl, D.O?” Someone asks from behind you and turning slightly, you realize a much larger crowd has gathered than you originally expected. You turn back to your brother, your palms clenched tightly together. He’s turned his back on you, leaning close to the tall man from earlier, who continues to stare at you tensely.

“She’s nothing.” Kyungsoo replies simply and, looking out across the crowd, smiles sardonically, rolling his eyes.

“As if I would associate with the likes of her.”

The crowd titters in cruel excitement behind you and hot, angry tears spring to your eyes. You scoff in disbelief and wonder how the situation escalated from bad, to worse.

He looks back at you once more and there’s a regretful understanding in his eyes, an almost tug in his limbs that make it seem as though he wants to approach you, but confirmed with a certainty that he won’t.

Overwhelmed with hurt, you turn on him and weave through the crowd who, having just witnessed your utter humiliation seem willing to leave room for your escape. This, small mercy you suppose you can appreciate.

Bursting out the doors of the club, you let out a sudden, feral scream. The hinges of the doors trickle shut behind you, but you ignore it, squatting to your knees and taking your head in your palms, willing the tears to stop.

You can’t believe Kyungsoo would willingly treat you this way. For a long time you’d regarded your brother as the one person in the world you felt you could rely wholly upon, who you were sure would never break or abuse your trust the way he had only moments ago. Your anger, while still present, is overwhelmed by the hurt of your brother’s disloyalty and your own humiliation at his hands.

Your inner monologue is interrupted as the doors once again swing open behind you. Initially, you take no interest in the likely drunk trespasser, expecting them to perhaps vomit in the muddy patch across from you before then stumbling back inside. Instead, slow, careful steps click against the pavement next to you and, spreading your fingers slightly, you realize a group of 3 men or so have come to gather around you.

You stop crying, and raise your head slightly. One directly ahead of you, one at each side. Your breath comes in quick, sudden gasps but you figure this is probably a good thing. They will not expect much of a girl who looks afraid.

(Though, you figure it’s probably important to note that you are very, very afraid anyway.)

A man with a dark suit, dark hair and darker eyes grins sardonically down at you. A cigarette dangles precariously from his lips and after a moment, he draws in a breath that seems almost laborious and crushes it under the heel of his shoe. He makes the sudden twist of his foot seem intimidating, and though he seems keen to maintain a supposed easy going stance, every inch of him stands firm and calculating.

After a moment’s pause, he squats down in front of you and pulls your hands away from your face, keeping them still in his palms. His hands are cold.

“And who might you be?” His words are smooth and clear, ringing out across the suddenly empty street.

Fighting hard to maintain a facade that doesn’t show how intimidated you have become, you raise your head higher, looking him dead in the eye.

“No one to you.” Your response is casual, cool, the opposite of what you feel in the moment.

He hums, the pressure on your wrists increasing slightly.

“No one to D.O either, apparently.”

You lose your composure for half a second, anger slipping through your eyes and he clicks his tongue, smiling.

“Ah, so sorry. Too soon?” His head tilts to side, mocking arrogance dripping from his every feature – the twist of his lips, the slight crinkle of his crescent eyes. Your fear is evident, but quickly overwhelmed by the irritation this man’s presence inspires.

“Is there a point to you speaking, or is it just that no one else wants to listen?”

The men to the side of you let out little chuckles, and he himself seems delighted by your notable indignation.

“Awfully brave thing to say of a girl who’s hands won’t stop shaking.” He holds up your trembling fingers as though to prove his point, loosely combining them with his for a second.

“It’s because I don’t find you attractive. I tend to get uncomfortable when ugly men insist of touching me.”

The men next to you really are laughing now, and though the man in front of you smiles still, he squeezes his fingers into your own harshly, so much so that you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from yelping in pain.

“But you didn’t mind when Kyungsoo touched you, did you? I bet you were loving it, his hands on you.” You attempt to back up slightly, disgusted by what he appears to be suggesting, but he doesn’t let you, snatching your body closer to his.

“That’s what you are isn’t it? I saw you on the floor too, standing closer so that little brat would come grind on you or some shit. I gotta say, you’re not very subtle about what you do, or what you are. But hey,” He pauses, reaching his hand to roughly tug your chin up to meet his, before letting his eyes travel slowly, leeching over your every curve and dip. He flicks his eyes up once more, settling on the disgust that screams in yours.

“I’m certainly not complaining. I respect a girl who knows exactly what she is – a dirty, little who-“

He doesn’t get to finish his monologue because, having heard enough of just exactly what he perceives you to be, you lurch forward bite harshly into the soft skin of his cheek. He yells in pain but you grind your teeth until you feel the blood spurt up in between them. He slams his palms against your face and the two men at your side rear you up and away from him. Breathing heavily, you spit out the blood in your mouth onto the street.

“Bitch.” He hisses, pressing his fingers to the blood trailing down the side of his face.

You hum in agreement and lean forward in your captors grip slightly. “And one that would never fuck you.”

His smiles and laughs are gone now. He takes two steps toward you before pushing open his jacket slightly to reveal a glint of metal against his hip.

“Maybe I ought to teach you a little les-“

The doors behind you slam open as Kyungsoo launches himself at one of the men holding up your arms. Beside you, the tall man from earlier does the same. And then, all at once the men you had seen sitting in the club seem to trickle out on the street beside you, taking up equally defensive positions.

Your arms now free, Kyungsoo takes a moment to look up from his attacker and shift his head frantically down the side of the street.

“Y/n, go!

You nod back quickly, but, turning back to the bleeding man in front of you as he faces off with the red haired man you’d seen your brother laughing with earlier, you can’t resist pulling the pepper spray Kyungsoo had insisted you carry from your pocket, and unloading the contents of it on his face. He shouts in pain as it sprays into his eyes and, satisfied, you drop the empty can and sprint off down the street.

“Dick!” And really, as you shout it, you’re unsure who it is you’re shouting it at.

As it turns out, you are even less athletic than you previously thought, and that was already pretty bad. So you’re not running for long when you slip into a small, decrepit alleyway and lean down in an attempt to catch your breath.

Your hand is spread over your stomach and your hair bats impatiently around your eyes when you jump at the intrusion of a rich voice ahead of you.

“Is this how you usually spend your Friday nights?”

You turn your head slightly and notice him, still damp from his performance as he leans against a wall and takes you in.

“Well, this is more of a Saturday night thing but, well I’ve had a rough week.”

The corners of his lips tug in a half moon smile and he takes a few more, easy steps toward you. You lift up your palm suddenly in an attempt to maintain a barricade.

“Listen, I’ve really had my fill of all and any of the male species tonight, so if you’re planning on intimidating me, d’you think we could, you know, move it to tomorrow night or something?” You huff and he’s really smiling now, eyes crinkling.

“But don’t you already have Saturday plans?” He asks, his head tilting to the side.

Despite yourself, despite the overall shitty nature of today and despite that little red inking on his shirt, you feel the laughter bubble in your chest.

It expands until you’re heaving through the chuckles, ignoring the tears that stream down your cheeks. You sigh, leaning back on your heels and sliding against the wall until you’re sitting, legs propped out in front of you. You hear him as he walks towards you and, as he comes closer, you loll your head to the side to look up at him. He blinks down at you, smiling gently, before he sighs loudly and slumps down next to you.

He nudges his knee against yours slightly and though you know you should probably attempt to create some space between you, remind yourself that not only is he a stranger, he is the worst kind of stranger, you can’t seem to muster the energy to pull away.

“What happened?” You sigh, drawing up your knees to rest your head on them.

“What didn’t?”

You lapse into a comfortable silence for a moment before he mimics your position, resting his head so that you both blink at one another, each taking the other in.

“I have a serious question.”

You steel yourself, nodding.

“Why’d you flick water in my face?”

You snort.

“Maybe I was displeased with your performance.”

“No, that’s not it.” His eyes twinkle with a childish mischief. “I saw you looking.”

You scoff, raising your head. “Looking at what?”

He raises his eyebrows, again repeating your motions. He gestures down to himself, over his still open shirt and dark jeans. “All. Of. This.”

You roll your eyes, but your grin does not falter.

“I was looking at the other one.”


“Yeah, that.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

You pause, feigning shock.

“You don’t know. I could be a terrible truth teller.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“100% a thing.”

“Doesn’t sound like a thing.”

“It’s a thing!”

His grin widens and he tilts his head further, regarding your now ruffled exterior. After a moment’s pause, he sticks out his hand towards you.


You hesitate, eyes flickering between his hand and loopy red handwriting barely visible in the light of the dumpster. After an awkward pause, you figure your night can’t really get much worse than it already has and well, he did make you laugh. You slip your hand into his gently, noticing that it is surprisingly warm and immediately worrying that your palms are sweaty.

“Y/n.” You respond, sighing.

Dropping your hand, he leans his head back against the wall again, closing his eyes briefly. You study him as he does so, your eyes canvassing along the general slump of his arms as they rest against his knees, the slack in his strong jaw.

“You look tired.” You observe meekly, and his eyes flicker open, familiar smile finding his lips once more.

“I am exhausted.” He grunts slightly, twisting his body to face you.

“You uh, I mean, you don’t have to stay here with me, if you’re tired.” You stumble over your words, suddenly embarrassed. “Actually, why are you here?” You enquire, gesturing around the dimly lit alleyway.

He shrugs, and his eyes cloud over for a second.

“My friends got in a fight.” He mutters. You regard him quietly, with not a small ounce of curiosity.

“You’re not gonna fight with them?” You enquire, and if on cue, his phone buzzes loudly in his pocket. He barley glances over at it before, reaching into his jacket, he flings it across the space and it lands with a dull smack against the wall, crumbling on the cracked pavement. You do not flinch.

Turning to look at you, his gaze seems much more intense, much more sudden than his previous teasing looks. You think that you should probably look away, that this interaction has become much more serious than either of you intended for it to be but, always curious, you do not.

“I’m tired of fighting with them.” He mumbles, almost meekly, as though he is ashamed of what he is saying.

“Do they know that?” You approach carefully and when his gaze finds yours, it is light again, infused with teasing.

“They would, but unfortunately I’m a terrible truth teller.”

You snigger slightly and he responds as such, blinking at you still.

You exhale loudly, eyes wondering over the starless night above you.

“My brother hurt my feelings.”

You grunt the words out forcefully, tasting them like bile in the back of your throat. He responds gently, carefully as you had done only moments ago.

“What happened?” He tries again, and you blink the tears out of your eyes, your breath catching slightly.

“I just-“ You break away, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. “It’s just been a shitty night.”

You feel his eyes on you as you struggle to regain your composure, and furiously blink away the tears that so desperately want to fall.  You hear the slight shift as movement as slowly, he leans closer to you. When you don’t pull away, he continues to shift, until his head rests carefully on your shoulder.

The gesture is a little strange and made awkward by how much taller he is than you. He has to shift quite far down the wall for his head to reach your shoulder, so he is practically lying beside you. He doesn’t seem to quite know how the rest of his body should face, because his long limbs hang nervously by his sides, as though you will jump away at any moment.

Despite this, and all the circumstances around the uneasy embrace, you appreciate it, and the hesitant warmth that scatters from his body to yours. You smile gently and rest your head against his, wanting somewhat to place your hand over his, but worrying that this will perhaps be too much. So instead, you inch your pinkie finger towards his, until they brush gently against the other. For a while, you both sit like this, leeching onto the other in the bristling of the slight spring chill and each enjoying the comfort of one another’s company.

“Thank you.” You murmur, and though he doesn’t respond, he turns your hand over slightly so that he is tracing small, nonsensical patterns on your palm, humming quietly as he does so.

You spend a while there with each other, until eventually the dark night gets darker, and the chill around you becomes too insistently bitter to ignore. You raise your head slightly and his movements on your hand cease. He raises his head to look up at you earnestly and in that moment, in that one, gullible moment, you make a decision.

“You wanna go get a drink?” You blurt out suddenly and he lifts his head from your shoulder, surprised.

“A… drink?” He draws out and you nod, perhaps a little too furiously, in an attempt to dispel some of your nervousness.  It doesn’t work and a slow, easy grin slips onto his lips.

“I mean – I’m just- not that you have to or anything like that – I just thought maybe you would uh- right, yeah, so I’m just gonna leave now.“ You stand up, your cheeks flaming as you stumble over your words. A drink? Really? Why not just scream that you want to do him right here in this alleyway? You groan internally, and his playful laughter bubbles up beneath you.

You go to walk away and quickly you realize he is lumbering beside you.

“So, where we going?” He asks. You turn to him, surprised, and slow your scurrying pace to a standstill in front of him.

“Uh- what?”

“You know, to drink?” He teases, mimicking drinking from a glass. You scoff slightly, surprised, and pleasantly so.

“Uh well-“

“Have you ever noticed people seem to make really rash, dumb choices when they’re drunk?” He interrupts, eyes skimming briefly over yours.

With a surge of confidence, you gnaw on your lip slightly, and follow his dark eyes with your own brazenly.  

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Things progress very quickly after that. As it is, it turns out you and Sehun do not require many drinks at all to make thoughtless, impulsive choices, and you’re barely tipsy as you stumble through the door of his apartment, his lips connected to yours.

It’s a decision you know you’ll regret in the morning, a very, very silly decision that neither of you should be making. Still, as his long fingers press gently against your ribcage, his leg pushing between the two of yours, it’s not one you can seem to pull yourself away from.

His movements are tender as he touches you, careful in a way that drives you to the brink of insanity as you just want more and more of him. He presses you against a wall, arms caging either side of you as his mouth works languidly against yours, peppering your lips with gentle kisses until your mouth slips open against his and his tongue slips against yours. You groan slightly, and you reach out your hands to brush over his cheeks, before smoothing down the sharp angles of his body until you reach his waist, at which you pull him flush against you.

He chuckles slightly, as the movement nudges his mouth away from yours so that he instead breaths hotly on your neck. You both take a moment to breathe, before he reaches down and tugs meekly on your thighs. You twine your calves easily around his waist as his lean fingers spread across your legs, moving his right hand up to your neck to brush away loose strands of hair and the collar of your shirt, sucking lightly on the skin there. You bite back a moan and your back curls against the wall, pushing your breasts against him.  He lets out a ragged breath and pulls away from you suddenly.

“We can still… stop if you want.” He hums slightly, hands suddenly hesitant against your thighs. You frame his face with your hands and press your lips firmly against his, much harsher than he had done. He grunts slightly in surprise and fists his hand in your hair as he returns the kiss with just as much fervour. You take the chance to stretch your arms out slightly behind you, peeling away your tartan shirt and letting it drop to the floor, leaving you in a loose tank top. You pull away, and skirt a thumb over his swelled bottom lip, before pressing insistent kisses against his jaw.

“I don’t… wanna stop.” You mumble and you think you hear him curse slightly under his breath. He tilts your chin up and reclaims your mouth, pressing against the sliver of skin exposed where your tank top has ridden up.

He readjusts his grip and pushes away from the wall. Surprised at the action, you press your head into the space between his shoulder and neck and, as he walks, push at the jacket on his shoulders. It slips from him easily and you lean back up to kiss him again, your hands resting at the nape of his neck.

You’re unaware you’ve reached a bedroom until he settles beneath you, bringing you down so that you’re sitting on top of him. You shift slightly so that your legs are on either side of him, and press against his crotch. He pulls away from you, moaning out your name quietly and you smirk, pleased at your apparently significant effect on him. You tilt your head down to nip at his neck before reaching down to pull on the ruffled white shirt he wears, pushing it over his head. It lands with a wet thump against the floor and as you turn to laugh slightly, Sehun takes the opportunity to flip you over, so that he hovers, shirtless above you. You press your hands against his back and his own palm flattens against your stomach. Instead of removing your flimsy top, his fingers crawl beneath it, reaching up over your stomach and fluttering over your ribcage before falling on top of your bra.

You grunt and flop beneath him, throwing your fist against the bed sheet.

“Don’t tease.” You huff and he chuckles at your frustration, before helping you remove the top. He pushes you further against the bed and crawls over you, until your head rests carefully on the navy blue pillow and he marvels down at you, smiling gently.

“Are you sure?” He whispers against your collarbone and you almost whine at him to hurry up already. He seems to sense your exasperation though, because he makes quick work of removing his own jeans before then pulling off yours, kissing along your legs as he does so. When he pulls down your underwear, his fingers press into you slowly, and he appears about to add his mouth too when you shake your head, pulling his face up to yours.

“Later.” You gasp and he nods, settling over you once more, fingers curling inside you. Again you slam your fist against the bed sheets and let out a loud groan, roughly pulling his head down against your own. He removes his fingers and you shudder at the loss of contact, but then his hands are slipping underneath you to unclasp your bra (and really, you have to take a moment to appreciate how quickly he does remove it, because you’ve been wearing one for years and it still takes you some time in the morning). Immediately his hand is on your chest, rubbing slowly against your breast. You throw your head back against the pillows but it smacks against the headboard instead, and you groan at the sharp gasp of pain.

Sehun stills, gasping before moving his hand to cradle the back of your head gently, lust quickly overcome with concern.

“Ah, y/n, are you alright?” He whispers and you wince slightly, but nod. You stare at him for a moment, his knuckles running softly against the back of your head. The concern in his face surprises you, but makes you feel good in a way you cannot explain. You skim your hand over his jaw and his gaze is drawn back to yours, wherein he blinks down at you with a firm sense of tenderness. You smile, and lean up to press a chaste kiss against his lips, hand still smoothing down his jaw. When you pull away, his eyes are soft, face settled in a small grin as he runs his hand through your hair.

“Do it now.” You whisper, wracked by a sudden eagerness to have him thrusting into you. He nods slightly, and leans down to kiss you again, before reaching into a draw and rolling a condom onto himself. You place your head back on the pillows as he braces above you. After a moment, he pushes into you, and you emit a high pitched gasp, your walls settling around him. He waits a moment too long to move, and you have to kick his shin slightly to signal that you’re ready. He huffs out a laugh and slowly begins to press into you, hands fisted in the sheets next to your head as he builds up a steady rhythm. Of all the boys you’d ever had sex with (which, admittedly, was really not that many) you’d always been pretty quiet in bed– sure, it’d felt good when they’d moved inside you, but it hadn’t exactly been earth shattering. But Sehun. The way he thrusts into you is, frankly, ridiculous. With every smooth roll of his hips he seems to find a different sweet spot and when you’re a moaning mess beneath him, he adds two fingers. You yelp, body twisting unnaturally beneath him, but he just keeps going, a thin layer of sweat forming on his chest. You lean up, trying to match his rhythm and he kisses you roughly, lips slanting over yours, your moans meeting in a mismatched choir.

It’s not long before the familiar pleasure begins to build, and by his sudden alternating change in pace you sense he’s close too. His hand gropes your chest and he leans down, taking your nipple in his mouth and just like that, you’re a goner. You’re on the verge of a scream as you come around him and he all about collapses on top of you, thrusting out his own orgasm. Your hands link as you both ride out your highs, Sehun sucking on your chest.

Spent, he pulls out of you slowly and tosses the condom into a bin beside him, his body flopping down next to yours. You throw your arm over your eyes, trying to calm your ragged breath as he does the same.

Silence settles around the two of you, panting, sweaty and naked in his dark sheets. Embarrassed, you wonder if, now that you’re finished, he expects you to leave. You shift away from him slightly, moving to the edge of the bed when he rolls over to his side and gets out the bed. You rush to do the same, shuffling awkwardly on the wooden floors.

You watch his figure retreat to a small wooden closet in the corner of the room and bite your lip, shifting your hands to cover your exposed breasts.

“Uh, should I-“ You begin, but are halted as, after having pulled on a set of loose tracksuit bottoms, he begins toward you, a shirt in his grasp. You raise your eyebrows questioningly, but he just gestures for you to hold your arms to the side. You do so, a little reluctantly, and he pulls the shirt onto your shoulders, humming.

He kneels to do up the buttons and as he finishes, pulls you toward him to place a soft kiss on your clothed stomach. Unsure of how to react, your hands simply hover above his tousled blonde hair.

He stands once more and intertwines his hand with yours, pulling you back toward the still–warm bed. He pushes you onto the sheets gently before then following suit. You turn on your side and he carefully places his hand on your waist, shifting a little closer.

“Is this… is this okay?” He mumbles and turning your head to face him, you nod slightly. Reassured, he smiles and moves closer, arms pressing more firmly around you.

“Don’t go.” He says and you face him once more, tilting your head in confusion. “In the morning, don’t go.” He elaborates and you smile softly. Instead of answering, you lean forward to press a tender kiss on his lips, and then his cheek. His eyes closed, he lets out a small contented sigh and you turn back around, closing your eyes.

He presses a soft kiss onto your head and, choosing not to think of what will happen in the morning, you clear your mind, and drift into a tranquil sleep.

 ((pls forgive any spelling/grammar errors as it is 1am and I cannot find the energy to check this. Also, I am a holy untouched virgin so idk how accurate the smut is but???? enjoy??? if you’d like a part 2, lemme know!))

anonymous asked:

Headcanons or something with McCree and a cuddly/physically affectionate s/o (preferably fem)? It's all good if not! Love your blog!!

I live for this, love. Bless you

  • The man is PDA™
  • So when you wrap your arms around his waist or surprise him with a kiss on the cheek in public, McCree turns into a complete mess
  • McCree loves it when you sit on his lap and cuddle him on the couch in the common room
  • If one of you are sitting or standing alone or talking with another agent, the other would sneak up and try to surprise them with a kiss 
    • You often hear McCree trying to catch you off guard but you spin around and bring him in for a passionate kiss before he can realize what’s going on
  • The two of you are the annoyingly cute couple that everyone hates to love
  • Even though you think that you may be annoying McCree with your constant physical affection, you slowly grow to learn that he couldn’t give a single care in the world if someone walked in a makeout session
  • The only thing that the two of you would prefer to have no one walk in on are the things that goes on behind closed doors

Originally posted by lipeka

Tagging: @elise-the-assassin @chesswatchesclouds

i?? literally?? can’t?? believe?? what?? we?? saw?? today?? isak and even making out on the windowsill. isak being so fucking confident. SO THIRSTY. oh boy. i still can’t believe how much this guy grew up. he went from “that doesn’t mean i am gay”, “i’m not gay. well, maybe a little gay”, from being ashamed of kissing even in public to making out in a classroom at!! school!! my son!! like literally someone could have entered the classroom at any moment but he wouldn’t give a shit! he noticed sana coming and still!! he continued kissing his boyfriend like it’s fucking normal for him now. and also all of this was so pure? you know when at high school you have a boyfriend/girlfriend and you just want to skip classes and kiss in the hallway during the breaks or something alike. and the background convo, tho? they just can’t quit each other. they need each other so bad. in every moment. they are so in love with one another it makes me cry. isak literally can’t do anything when even’s there! just! being! even! even! himself! i am so glad isak found a person that makes him that happy. that makes him feel free to do what he wants to do and makes him feel comfortable and protected and loved. a person that noticed him and appreciated him from the very first moment. today all i saw was isak, the happiest and chillest person on earth. and when he noticed that photo of mikael on sana’s laptop? oh my god. sana avoided the talk but isak. isak had that expression on his face. he was worried and confused. worried for something he knows nothing about! but yeah, that totally said isak will stand up for his man no matter what. i’m so proud of my boy

  • Dave: [sits at kitchen table motionless bc coffee machine is broken & he doesn't kno how 2 function]
  • jack: look at him. how beautiful. how pensive. he doesn't need the coffee, unlike me who is weak. he's probably mediating. what a brilliant man. healthy mind and healthy body. what am I doing ? I'm standing here like a fool while David takes initiative and is in touch with his mind and his intermost thoughts. why is he dating me ? an oaf. but he's mine. I'm so lucky. God has blessed me with this man
  • Dave thinking: motherfuckingbrokenasscoffeemachinewhatthefuckamisupppousedtodonowmotherfuckingshit

Can y'all believe we’ve been recently blessed with
• Isaiah & Matt’s cooking war,
• Video of Isaiah serenading to Matt + Matt’s beautiful smile,
• Parabatri selfie
AND yet we’re about to be blessed with Harry & Matt at GLAAD Awards this weekend? What a time to be alive.

hamelin-born  asked:

I'm happy to congratulate your omega!Graves and alpha!Newt on their upcoming mating (and unknowing marriage). Good on Newt for catching MACUSA's Most Eligible Bachelor! (Heads are gonna ROLL when Graves finds out he's essentially gotten married.)

“Dearest President, 

I’m so pleased to congratulate MACUSA’s finest on the first of surely many marriages to come among your staff. No doubt Mr. Scamander will make a fine mate for our dear, surly Director. And the Director, no doubt, will look as precious split on his cock during their formal mating as he did all chained up in his own cellars, pouting. While I must admit, I lament missing the opportunity to take the man for myself, I must give congratulations where congratulations is due.

May the happy couple be blessed with many brats.


Gellert Grindelwald”

Picquery could no longer resist the temptation to rest her aching brow into her hands as Graves snatched the letter from her to better examine it for himself.

“What does this mean?” He asked, then when Picquery did not react spun on heel to wave the letter at his (unbeknownst to him) mate. “What the hell is he talking about, Newt?”

“Y-you’re not going to like it, I’m afraid,” Newt said hesitantly, and Picquery blinked when she realized the man was not only standing straight, but looking Percival in the eye. Come to think of it, he had stopped slouching for some time now, his confidence somewhat grown. 

And it…

It made Percival look small. Now the director was by no means a short man, but he wasn’t exactly the tallest man either. His presence more than made up for it normally - the difference not even noticeable - but now?

He looked lithe and small and ripe for the taking, and with a blink she realized that Newt was glaring at her. And growling.

“Apologies, Mr. Scamander,” she said automatically, surprising herself. Percival blinked at them both owlishly, outraged.

Apologies? For what?!”

“It’s complicated, Percival,” Newt tried - edging forward to soothe his mate, and surprisingly Percival allowed it. Allowed for Newt to take his wrist gently. To hover. And even so, he seemed confused by it.

He pouted - although Picquery was sure it was meant to be a frown. Jesus, they were all fucked.

“When we… when you and I… in your office,” Newt stammered, “When I–”

“Fucked me. You can say it, Mr. Scamander, we’re adults here,” but Percival was blushing, still not used to the feelings that had been bombarding his instincts lately, no matter how hard a face he tried to hide behind.

“When I took you,” Newt said, “I… do you remember this?”

Fingers brushed against the scarred patch of skin where that aching bump had been for so long, and instantly a blank haze momentarily bled through Graves’ eyes. Picquery clenched at her armrests.

“I told you dragons had this, remember?”

“Y-yes,” Percival said.

“It’s a mating gland,” Newt said sheepishly, apologetically, and yet…happily? “When I burst that gland, I claimed you as mine. By…by nature, we’re to be wed.”

To Percival’s credit, he blinked at him angrily precisely three times, mouth opening and closing, before promptly passing out. Newt let out a soft, surprised chirp as he quickly eased a noodle-limp Percival to the ground, and at her desk, Picquery sighed and cradled her head.

She was going to kill Gellert Grindelwald. 

…Right after she fucked Queenie Goldstein. 

A Decent Proposal

Title: A Decent Proposal

Pairing: Dominick ‘Sonny’ Carisi Jr. / Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 1017

Warnings: Mild language

Notes: I don’t usually do requests, but I felt like I had to do something with this one. Representation matters. Thanks as always to @do-me-carisi and @carisiismyhomeboy for looking this over <3

Read this on Ao3!

You had just opened the door to your apartment when you saw that it was completely illuminated by candles. You even saw that your diyas were lit. It was April, not October, so this was obviously not for Diwali–Sonny knew better. That’s when you saw the trail of rose petals. You smiled to yourself despite the sinking feeling growing in the pit of your stomach as you followed the trail.

Keep reading

“Unexpected romance” Ahkmenrah fanfic. Part 2/?

AN: I would like to thank for all the likes on the first part! I would like to apologies for making this fic a bit award and making you guys wait for an actual romantic interaction between the pairing but I promise that will happen in chapter three. I would appreciate if i get your thoughts on this :3

Fanfiction: Unexpected Romance
Fandom: Night at the Museum
Pairing: Ahkmenrah/Original Character(Reader)
Rating: suitable for all ages
Word count: 1038

- - - - -

“So the tablet does what?” You continued to question a man in a dark blue uniform that was standing in front of you. He continued to play with his flash light, swirling it in between his fingers. “I am aware this is new and confusing” he said with a sigh” but what I am telling you is the truth. Ahkmenrah’s tablet light up the moment the sun goes down and all of the exhibits become alive, some of them talk, some don’t, I am not sure how to explain the huts and the cavemen but, that is basically it…” The man sighed continuing to explain to you in details what is happening.

“So um, Leroy “– “No Larry” He corrected and gave you a glance. “Right sorry..But let me get this straight. That man is Ahkmenrah? The Egyptian pharaoh?” You asked and rushed back towards the Egyptian exhibit, avoiding the jackals and standing still in front of the pharaoh. You were speechless. Never in your life have you thought that you could be blessed by meeting a 5000 years old pharaoh, that has experienced ancient Egyptian ways of living, working, praying – wow.

Despite the fact that you had rushed in there quickly you had no clue how to act. I think the most important thing is to show your respect? So you have, while gently and slowly bowing down, getting on your knees. “I apologies, I was not aware you were a pharaoh, I am so sorry” You said and bowed your head. Ahkmenrah approached to you and patted your head. “I am pretty young and I don’t even rule anymore.. Your respect is wonderful but please stand up you’re making me uncomfortable.” Once hearing his words you stood up instantly, nibbling on the inside of your cheek. Damn all you have done since you came here is showing of your anxiety.

“So um, I was wondering since the moment I heard you spoke. You speak English…?” You mumbled trying not to sound disrespectful.

“Oh I went to Cambridge University” he said

“Oh you went to, the Cambridge University?”

“Well I was there on display in the Egyptology department. My sarcophagus wasn’t locked, I could go out. So I thought; hey why not use this spare time and study the language so I can understand what people are trying to say when I can hear.”

You were fascinated. This man, not only is he extremely attractive but also intelligent.. /No __ you cannot crush on people on your workplace. That is absolutely the last thing you need. You need to stay strictly professional/ You thought to yourself trying to distract your eyes of his incredibly toned body. “Um where are my manners. My name is ___ and I am new here. I am an archaeologist but my specialty is ancient Egypt, the time you were born.  I was fascinated about this since I was really young.. Do you think, would it be weird, if you had helped me in my research? I am currently working on your tablet and I am extremely in love with you, I mean it. I am in love with the artefacts” You sighed deeply. There we go I have ruined absolutely everything with my silly brain.

The toned boy had chuckled silently to himself before motioning you to sit down with him on the stairs close to his sarcophagus. So you agreed and sat down next to him. “I have seen you, when I woke up and removed the sheets of my face. I could see love and fascination in your eyes. I do not recall seeing anyone like that. I believe you when you say that you are in love with this. And of course with that goes that I am willing to help you. as much as you need. But then again if you ever do research on me be carefully, there bones are really old” He said with a chuckle and held his chest.

You nodded in an agreement with a wide smile. Not thinking on the consequences you gave the pharaoh a gentle hug whilst closing your eyes. “You have no idea how grateful I am. Thank you so so much Ahkmenrah.” You kept hugging him as a wide smile spread across his face. “My pleasure..” the brown haired boy said before breaking the hug. “So what do you usually do here, I mean during the night whilst you’re awake?” The moment you finished your question, extremely loud music could be heard from the main hall of the museum. Ahkmenrah had quickly responded to your question with a smile and stood up, offering you a hand. “Come on let me show you what happens” Without any hesitation you held his hand and stood up, following him to the main hall.

Now allow me to describe you this interesting scene. You could see the masked civil war warriors playing football with the Huns. Tiny little humans from ancient Rome along with the cowboys were standing on the main desk and play.. cat videos on the computer? A freaking giant dinosaur skeleton was chasing around, what looks like a piece of his tail? “Does this happen.. every single night?” You questioned the pharaoh. The confusion on your face was evident. He laughed yet again, nodding his head. “Yes this does happen every single night. Come follow and join at the DJ desk.”

The desk was wooden, brown, pretty big and old. But on the top there was a professional DJ equipment with a shit tone of records. He turned on the player and placed a pink record labelled with ‘Pink Punk’ and pressed play. Now this was pretty impressing. You have never witnessed something like this. Ahkmenrah held both of your hands looking at you. “You are really lovely. I must admit I am looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night. And if I am not mistaken…Your shift has ended twenty minutes ago. I believe you’ve worked hard. You deserve to rest.”  Now his actions made you stutter! What were those colorful clouds playing with your insides, especially the are inside your stomach. If he continues treating you like this you will seriously fall for him. But you mustn’t allow yourself…

A King Without A Queen

There’s been a limit on time and his had finally caught up to the clock. He needed to move, itched to make his next step as one misfiring led to another. There were supposed to be as little casualties as possible. That was the plan he and Fitzgerald had plotted out once he’d bit the bullet. Dazai wasn’t a man to be the forefront of battles. He’d worked out enough plans to get them there and get what he was after but execution? It’d been a quiet conversation. One with a quip here or there but the air was somber enough that even the great Fitzgerald knew to hold his tongue. Dazai wasn’t on an edge, no, he’d been on edges before. He’d free fallen over them and knew too well the peaceful decent. This was cold, grounding, he was a piece of power and it needed to be played just right-

That was until the first report had come his way.

He’d given Atsushi the job he’d thought only he would be able to handle. That the boy would ground himself enough to keep Kyouka safe, safe and calmed and tucked in bed where she should be. Instead they’d ended up on the front lines.

“Atsushi-kun….” He’d uttered the name in disbelief hearing he- of them all- had defied him. He supposed it showed dedication. Showed he wanted to do right for Dazai and Chuuya. He had this small sinking feeling knowing he’d let Kyouka be alone to follow. That Akutagawa was with them. That…

The casualties had begun.

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Confessions: Personal Salvation

“Jesus said, “You’re asking the wrong question. You’re looking for someone to blame. There is no such cause-effect here. Look instead for what God can do. We need to be energetically at work for the One who sent me here, working while the sun shines. When night falls, the workday is over. For as long as I am in the world, there is plenty of light. I am the world’s Light.” He said this and then spit in the dust, made a clay paste with the saliva, rubbed the paste on the blind man’s eyes, and said, “Go, wash at the Pool of Siloam” (Siloam means “Sent”). The man went and washed—and saw. Soon the town was buzzing. His relatives and those who year after year had seen him as a blind man begging were saying, “Why, isn’t this the man we knew, who sat here and begged?” Others said, “It’s him all right!” But others objected, “It’s not the same man at all. It just looks like him.” He said, “It’s me, the very one.” They said, “How did your eyes get opened?” “A man named Jesus made a paste and rubbed it on my eyes and told me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ I did what he said. When I washed, I saw.””

John‬ ‭9:3-11

‭ This whole moment just hit me. This is a condensed, personal version of what Jesus did for all of us. He came to us as we were, suffering from sin (the cause of which Jesus says is irrelevant), He gave us a piece of Himself (saliva; Spirit) and mixed it with the Earth (dirt; flesh). He covered our afflictions (the mans eyes; death, the punishment for sin), He has us wash (the pool; baptism in the Holy Spirit), and then we can see; then we are free. The part that makes my weak heart soar is that He did this for the man when the man could do nothing for Him. He still chose to heal a man who could do nothing but rely on Him. And yet I try to think that I am any different. That I can stand on my own feet. Lord forgive me and help me to be like the man you chose to heal. I can do nothing for you that would come close to what you’ve done for me. And blessedly, you don’t ask for that. You just ask for me. I’m so unworthy. And yet here I am. Praise Jesus.

-31 Women (Nan)

youseimanami  asked:

Hi :) I just wanted to tell you I LOVE the way you write, you are an ARTIST of describing emotions. I feel like the characters are breathing, you always convince me things in the manga should go in the directions you show us (like the Watchtower series). So I have a question. How do you think the manga will end? Will Obi manage to let Shirayuki know about his feeling? How? What would be her reaction? Will Zen propose to her? (I hope not. :D) Thank you for your work, you are AMAZING. :)

Thank you so much! I’m always happy when I hear someone likes my writing (even more when they tell me that they liked that monster of a fic. I’m stupidly proud of my angsty-baby). I only have one more Melt-verse prompt to write and then I’ll be switching over to mostly Watchtower, so I think you’ll be pleased about the 20ish prompts I’ve got on the docket. ;

As for the canon end itself? Man oh man, I love wild speculation, but my crystal ball is cloudy on that one. I mean, I am pretty sure that it’ll be a happy ending because of the genre, and as much as my heart loves a good conflict and would like to see the series turn a little darker, I doubt it will happen

When it comes to Obiyuki feels: Personally, I would love to see some Obiyuki end game and Sorata gave me the painfulest of hopes with that ‘Welcome home’ scene in the last chapter, but I’m cautious. I don’t want my heart to be broken (even if the thought of an Obiyuki kissing scene in canon sounds delicious and I don’t trust it when creators of any type say it’s gonna be a fun summer. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, SORATA??? I CAN PRACTICALLY SEE YOUR :3 :3 :3 FACE WHEN YOU TELL US WE’RE GONNA HAVE FUN ).

I think if any confession were to happen on the Obiyuki side of things, Obi would have to be persuaded. Shirayuki would probably have to take the first several steps with him before he’d believe it and even then, it’d take some work. He’s conditioned himself for too many years, telling himself that it would never happen, and let’s be real here: The girl has had a future King of one country and the second Prince of another country go after her in varying degrees—that does not make for much confidence when it comes to pursuing your hearts want. Especially since I can’t see Obi’s backstory being anything short of him having nothing to his name. I mean, he has a ? next to his age in his bio and Sorata drew him when he was “”12”” peeking out of a barrel with murder eyes. Everything about him screams destitute tragic backstory. And he’s proven himself to be fairly pragmatic throughout the series and, like, orphans don’t end up with girls who have Prince’s and King’s calling on them. (But goodness, do I hope this orphan does)

As for your proposal question, I really… don’t know where Zen stands when it comes to proposing at this point. Is he waiting for Izana’s blessing? Is he waiting for Shirayuki to complete her work? Is he waiting until he feels he is a better man and can match her as a husband? I dunno. I do know that Kiki and Mitsuhide were acting a little sketch in that last chapter and it makes me suspicious. Especially since they are going separate ways AGAIN, but we’ll see what happens. (If a Zenyuki fan has a different theory about why Zen’s waiting, by all means. I LOVE speculation :D :D :D It’s my lifeblood.)

Honestly, though, at the end of the day, I think I would be fine with any ending that was done well. If my pairing isn’t endgame or something awful happens to throw everything askew (which would be super fun), well… that’s what fanfic is for! :D

The last thing I want, though, is to see the last chapter being a fast forward to an indistinct future where it’s the Zenyuki wedding day and Obi is suddenly with someone we don’t recognize or Torou or something else that comes out of left field. And as much as it pains me to see him solo, I think him being alone as Shirayuki’s life-long personal attendant makes more sense with a Zenyuki end game.

But who knows? Something DRASTIC may happen that would throw that into disarray.

That might be a bit more than you were expecting, but I’m nothing if not thorough. ;)

Thanks for asking!

Little Girl

Request: Could you do a sisfic where the reader goes off on her first hunt. The brothers are constantly trying to protect her. But, when she gets a chance to fight a vampire werewolf alone, it turns out she is really badass. 

Words: 1,743

Pairing: None

A/N: Hey nerds. Sorry if I’m throwing a pile of oneshots on you right now. Try to find the time to like, reblog, and request your own imagine if you can!

Originally posted by supernaturalismykryptonite

“Can you not?” The words come out of your mouth for the millionth time as you make a right turn. Your brother rolls his eyes in the passenger seat in response. “You’re the worst backseat driver, Sam. I know where I’m going.”

“I know you do!” he replies, one hand clenched in an anxious fist, the other gripping the safety handle on the car door. “I just wanted you to go left so we could avoid going downtown.”

“Why? That would take twice as long to get back to the bunker,” you question, keeping your eyes on the road. Dean had taught you to drive when you were 14 (against Sam’s better judgement), and you knew this town like the back of your hand.

Keep reading

I, a Muslim woman

What if I, a Muslim woman,
told you Hijab was my choice?
It’s my right, my faith, my beauty,
who I am, and in it I found my voice.
Society can try to undress me,
but what they never seem to realize,
is it’s my protection, my safe haven,
and keeps me away from prying eyes.
It covers my hair, my neck, my chest,
but opens my heart to new salvation.
No it’s not a mask to hide behind,
but hijab is my self-proclamation.

What if I, a Muslim woman,
told you Qur'an is my bill of rights,
promising me the right to an education,
to take my standing to all new heights.
I am to be looked up to: a leader.
I am to marry who I want, when I want,
My man is to treat me with respect;
I’m not some doll to show and flaunt.
We chose each other but he relies on me.
Without me, half his deen is incomplete.
And one day, if we are blessed with kids,
their paradise will lie beneath my feet.

What if I, a Muslim woman,
told you that I am a peaceful one?
I don’t support war or terror,
so tell me, what wrong have I done?
You mention the terrible attacks:
two thousand and one, nine-eleven.
I was too little to even understand,
at the ripe young age of only seven.
I grew up, surrounded with hatred,
but not from any Muslim that I knew.
Those people didn’t look like me;
no, they looked a whole lot like you.

Now what if I, a Muslim woman,
pointed the finger back at you?
You’d ask so innocently,
“But what did I do?”
This time I ask the questions,
and you provide some answers.
How about the genocide
of my Native ancestors?
And what about my dying
Palestinian sisters and brothers?
What about all the Muslims?
And all those you call “others?”

But… I am a Muslim woman,
so there is no room for hate in my heart.
And instead, I will pray for you,
even if you choose to ignore this part.
There is nothing that I want more
than for the world to be at peace,
for us all to be filled with love,
and for this fighting to cease.
Yes, we have our differences,
but be that as it may,
I pray to our one and only God,
that you eventually find the right way.

Yoongi | BTS | 1.4k words

Sugar Sweet Cuddles | fluff

It’s been 6 months since Yoongi and I started dating and about 3 years since we’ve known each other.

If you knew Yoongi the way I do, or know him at a relatively personal level at all, you would know that he doesn’t like it when people invade his personal space.

You’d know he only tolerates me getting all touchy feely with him because he’s irrevocably and undeniably in love with me (also because whenever he tries to pry himself away, I’ve got him in a death grip of a hug).

Although he’s like that, there are days when he shuts me off (he actually doesn’t, I just say that he does because I like having his undivided attention and his warm affection. He’s usually sleeping during that time and he’s phone is too far to reach, even though it’s on his bedside table… Yoongi is lazy as fuck) completely.

And then there are days that I honestly strive for, the days where he’s extra affection. Drowning me in his wonderful cuddles and peppering my face with his soft kisses.

Where he’s all warm ad toasty and he’d smell like his fabric softener and a scent that is entirely Min Yoongi. He smells sweet, manly, soft. Home. He smells like home..

Yesterday, we had our very first argument. As a couple at least. Cause god knows how many times we’ve fought back when we were still just friends.

Yoongi hardly ever gets jealous, I think. Cause if he does gets jealous, he never shows it.

But yesterday he walked in on me and my (gay) friend cuddling while we were watching Bridget Jones diary. He saw us on my couch and just went completely livid, screaming at my friend, telling him to get out.

I was trying to explain that he was gay and had a VERY pretty boyfriend and thinks hooking up with me is incest. But his angry, bloodshot gaze stopped me in my tracks and I was at a loss for words. He stormed out of my apartment, making sure my neighbours knew that someone was pissed off in the building from the way he slammed my door on his way out.

So that’s what brought me here, in this situation. In front of his door, in his black oversized sweater that he never takes back (he said he liked seeing me in it, said I looked like a lost kitten with my sweater paws and habit of rubbing my nose like my life depended on it that always leaves my nose red and cheeks all puffy).

Wanting to apologize for what he saw and was unable to explain (he never gave me the chance). Explain that I wasn’t cheating on him, cause let’s be real. MIN YOONGI IS NOT SOMEONE ANYONE WOULD WANNA CHEAT ON.

I’d been crying all night my eyes are swollen but it lessened slightly while I was walking here.

I was about to knock on his door when a sniffling Yoongi with an equally swollen set of eyes opened the door with his eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them before.

He looked so cute.

With his winter jacket and blue beanie on, he was about to go out probably to meet up with Namjoon and Hoseok but he looks so cozy, cuddly and soft and I’m hardly refraining myself from kissing his puffy cheeks.

“Y/N? What’re you doing h–” Yoongi didn’t get to finish his question because I launched myself forward to engulf him in a physically suffocating bear hug not being able to hold myself back.

“I’m sorry” his deep voice muffled from him burying his face at the crook of my neck. I felt him breathing in my scent. “I’m sorry I walked out without letting you explain. It’s just he was so good-looking that I just couldn’t help but think you look better with him”

I chuckled as I pulled away from him slightly but still holding onto his waist when I looked up at him.

“Yoongi, can we talk about this later? I just… You… you’re really warm right now and I want a cuddle after what happened, it’s your fault for jumping into conclusions anyway.”

Yoongi led me back into his house and into his room, taking off his winter jacket and his beanie and padded to his bed while I took off my leggings just because I hate pants and Yoongi knows it before joining him in bed as well.

I was right, Yoongi is cozy and cuddly and toasty and I am trying very hard not to fall asleep.

“He’s gay”


“The man from yesterday, he’s gay. Has a really pretty long-term boyfriend too”

“Oh my god! No wonder he was so pretty”

I giggled when I felt him hug me tighter as he shushes me. I had my face squished into his chest and I could feel every minty breath he takes. His head on mine, my entire body caged by his loving arms.

“You know you have absolutely nothing to worry about when you’re with me right” I started with my eyes closed. Yoongi hummed in response.

“You have nothing to feel insecure about, because you’ve had my heart and soul and mind for the 3 years I’ve known you. You might see yourself less than everyone, but to me you’re complete and more. Sure you weren’t exactly blessed with height-” I chuckled when he stabbed my sides with his finger before continuing “But, I like that we’re about the same height. It’s easier to kiss you, you don’t have to lean down too much and I don’t have to stand on tippy toes. You may look in the mirror as see yourself as flawed but god, Yoongi! I wish you could see what I see”

“I wish you could see, the way your rare grin could light the entire world. I wish you could see that I find you to be the most beautiful man I’ve ever met. People on magazines’ beauty are beauty set by society, but your beauty… Its breath taking, you redefine beauty in every word you speak, every move you make, and every step you take. Even if Josh was straight, he has nothing on you. No one can ever compare to you.”

“And besides, I’m not that hot to have boys waiting for me to give them my


I looked up at Yoongi and saw the stubborn tears welling up his eyes. I felt his soft lips on my forehead and I felt his lips move when he spoke.

I hummed in contentment.

“Sometimes…” He starts.

“Sometimes, I wonder what you even see in me. I don’t have anything special about me, and you’re practically perfection on legs. So I think it’s unfair that you have to end up with me…”

I looked up into his sad eyes before defensiveness took over my words.

“I didn’t have to end up with you. I wanted to be with you. Our silly little banters back when we were just friends… I think I live for those, I live for the nights when we’re too lazy to even go to the kitchen to eat so we just order pizza to be sent into your room, for the way you hold my hand when I make you take your medicines. How is that unfair for me? Yoongi, everything revolving you, to me, are the best things in the world.”

I paused to bury my into his clothed chest, breathing in his scent. “And if I’m not convincing enough, Josh told me to give you his number if you ever wanted to talk about our relationship and so that he could apologize. But if you ask me, I think he’s trying to hit on you just because he and his boyfriend are into threesomes.” I finished with a scowl that’s hidden by his t-shirt, and his arms tightening around me.

“Well did you?” He asks suddenly after a pregnant silence.

“Did I what?”

“Give my number. Did you?” He looks down to meet my eyes with a teasing grin on his lips.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you” I joked back and his chest rumbled against my cheek when he chuckled.

Breathing him in, I felt my eyes getting droopy, and not long after. I felt Yoongi’s slow and steady breath; I kissed his clothed chest and slept soon after.

Our day ended early, with us under fluffy blanket in his bed. Gangly limbs all tangled up and shirts rapidly riding up each other’s torso in our sugar sweet cuddle.