When something cool happens and you can’t wait to tell them about it, I think that means you’re in love. If ya wanna hear every little dumb detail of their day I think that’s a pretty good sign too. Comfortable silences, knowing every little freckle and the way their face crinkles when they smile, if the little things about them make you feel all gooey in your heart I think that’s love.
I often wonder what I will remember about you when I’m 70.
One could say it is likely that I will forget about the sound of your voice and the way you dress. I might wake up one day and realize that I can’t tell the colour of your eyes or the words you use too often.
I will probably have forgotten at which topics your mouth tends to soften and that you always frown after having a good laugh.
And it might dismiss from my mind how you hold yourself when you sit, legs and arms crossed, your bottom lip drawn in a little.
After all these years, I may forget what made me fall for you, why you were so different from the others.
// but what if I will look back and remember each and every detail, every crinkle on your face?
Initially, she’d forgotten all about the night before. The first thing she noticed was the strange buzzing sound of the thermostat in the corner, which was obviously not working at all because the room was freezing. The chilly air nipped at her cheeks, and she snuggled further into the mattress as she tucked her head into the comforter with a soft whimper, trying to ignore the buzzing in her head.
Her eyes were still stinging from her tears the night before mixed with the lack of sleep. She’d managed to finally drift off at around four in the morning, but she couldn’t tell by the window whether it was eight in the morning or two in the afternoon.
Their screams from the night before still echoed in the walls.
She slid the covers off of her head and opened her eyes slowly, staring at the pale yellow motel ceiling. It was the color of Easter yellow, she’d decided, and it reminded her of chocolate and gardens and everything happy. It reminded her of some distant life where she probably would have done something to be proud of.
The ache in her chest resonated throughout her entire body, and her head was pounding to the rhythm of her heart—it was the only way she could be sure it was still beating.
She felt like someone had torn it out of her chest.
She turned onto her side and looked at the space in the bed beside her, clutching onto the soft material of the comforter until her knuckles turned white. Waking up on her own wasn’t new to her—she’d done it time and time again in the past two years, so much that she’d become numb to the loneliness that came with it. But this time was different…
This time, she knew he wasn’t coming back.
She suddenly felt a tear roll down her face, and just like that, she couldn’t get him out of her head.
ANON REQUESTED: Can you do some Jon snow smut please ;)
note: uhmmm, its smut. kinda a lil bit but smut ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
You crashed into Jon’s chambers with two flagons of wine and ale with two cups. Jon was busy looking at his map, with a deep look on his face. He was surprised that he saw you, late at night and you just barged in.
“What are you doing?” He asked as he took a seat, watching you move.
“What am I doing?” You raised the cups and you exclaimed. “Drinking, we’re drinking.” He started to protest but you shut him out, “I know you are King in the North now, but you’re always so serious these past days.”
He grabbed the cup from your hand and he poured himself the sweet wine, filling it almost to the brim. He chugged it all down with one gulp, and he flushed red already from the alcohol. You took a drink as well, and you looked at his table.
“What are you doing?” You asked as you drank the wine. You sat on the table, moving the markers away.
“Maps,” both of you said it at the same time, and he laughed as he grabbed the wine for more.
It has been a while since you spent time with him, since he was always so busy talking about strategies, and all of the problems that carried on his shoulders. You stared at him, slowly drinking his cup. You remembered that this was once the man you loved, but your feelings subsided when he took you just for a friend. A close friend, you remembered as he hugged you one time.
“What’s the matter?” He asked as he saw you staring.
You didn’t look away, but you smiled. “Nothing,” you glanced at the flagon, “We’re out of wine.”
He raised the other flagon, and he filled your cup. “We still have ale.”
You laughed as he raised the flagon to fill his cup as well. He was getting so flustered and intoxicated, he started to mumble inchorent words. He smiled and he laughed, out of nowhere. “Do you remember when you ran,” he laughed loudly, “And you fell into this pit of mud!”
“That wasn’t funny!” You said as you remembered that moment. Everybody in the Black were laughing as you drenched in the mud. You laughed, when you remembered another thing, “I pulled you in.”
He nodded as he finished the remaining flagon. “We both smelt of shit for the whole week,” he laughed as he stared at you on his table.
You finished your drink as he did with his, and silence filled the whole room. He stood, and he stayed in front of you as you held your cup in your hands. You smiled at him, and he moved closer. He set your cup on the table, and he inched closer, and your feet dangled off the table as he moved.
one of my favourite things about Dean is that even though he’s had such a rough, painful life he’s still incredibly loving and tender. he could have easily succumbed to the bitterness and hatred and blame it on hell or hunter’s life in general, but instead he makes burgers for his family, kisses his “little sister he never wanted” on her forehead, takes care of his brother when he’s sick and smiles so wide when he sees his friend that his eyes crinkle and his whole face lights up. he could’ve been a heartless, joyless man, it would probably make things easier for him. but instead Dean is a love-fuelled big ol’ softy and I think it’s beautiful
Word Count: 853 (almost not a drabble but it is so hush :P)
Warnings: Dean being an ass.
A/N: You voted for prompt, gif and character. Here are what I came up with for the winners.
***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***
You hated the fighting. This was the way it had always been and you knew it wasn’t going to stop for a long time. You and Dean had been friends for years before either of you had dared to let anything happen between one another. You loved him so much it hurt and you had no doubt in your mind he felt the same about you, even if he had never said the words. You also doubted he ever would, but that wasn’t why you had fought.
Dean tried to push you away, just like he always did. In the beginning he had flirted with other women, never once taken it beyond that but just enough to make your blood boil with jealousy. Once he had realized he was only hurting you and not chasing you off he had stopped. Then the bossy period had started. Him telling you what to do, which hunts you could go on and what your role would be. Again your blood boiled but those times with anger. A few screaming matches had occurred and you had run off to handle whatever monster problem you were having at the time on your own. After Dean had almost lost you on one of those hunts he had changed his tactics again. Those were the games he was playing at now. Shutting himself down, not letting you in. Not even when you knew he was hurting more than ever. His mom were back in your lives and that was a lot for him to deal with. A few months ago he would have told you about it, but not anymore. Now Dean told you it was none of your business, leaving you in tears to come home smelling like a brewery each night. Each time he left it got harder and harder to watch the door close between you, but you were determined in proving him wrong. Even if you could no longer fall asleep in his bed alone anymore. Even if you sat on the couch in one of Dean’s t-shirt with silent tears streaming down your face until you could no longer keep your eyes open and you fell asleep.
pairing: sehun x reader, jongin x reader, yixing x reader genre: fuckboy!au, college!au, smut, angst?, series summary: there was good in the world to balance the bad, but when it comes to boys are they good for anything except breaking hearts and causing trouble?
A/N: AS ALWAYS I DIDNT PROOFREAD THIS, please let me know what you think D:
“Fuck, you’re getting my dick so wet,” Sehun moaned while seeing the way his dick glistened with wetness. Biting his lip, he threw his head back and smirked. How did he get so lucky? Looking back down, he pushed the girl’s thigh further back, giving him the best view of how his dick stretched out her pussy. Another slew of filthy words left the boy’s mouth as he leaned over the moaning girl’s body. His large left hand moved beside her head, his chest on hers, nipples rubbing against each others as he slowly pushed his thick, pulsating dick back inside her.
Lifting her right leg, she wrapped it around his thin waist as their bodies roughly rocked the bed. The headboard slamming against the wall brought her closer to her long awaited orgasm. Her senses began overloading. Sehun’s hot breaths against her stretched neck that adorned three hickies, the short curls just above his hard dick that brushed against her swollen clit, his hand that had a firm grip on her thigh to stop her squirming.
“That’s right squeeze my dick,” he groaned against her jaw. Increasing the speed of his thrusts, he lifted his left hand and began rolling her hard nipple between his fingers. “I’m so close,” her whimpers added to the noise of undeniable lewd acts.
(more specifically, my face, in many different angles :o )
I was recently trying to draw some characters kissing and could not for the life of me figure out how to draw head tilts from a side angle, the jaw does some weird shit that screw with my mind’s drawing abilities. Sooooooo, to improve with this I took just a whole bunch of selfies and drew myself! And wow it was really really helpful! I also experimented with a few emotions and expressions because faces crinkle up in real strange ways and I wanted to figure out how to draw it.
So here are my sketches from this exercise, ahahahaha, my face. And I would 100% recommend doing this if you’re having trouble drawing specific facial angles or expressions, its so handy in trying to figure out the short cuts and drawing muscle memories.
If you want to know, this drawing exercise was to help me drawing da:o art, and whole lotta kissing. (ignore the page numbers, there is no missing page 5, I accidentally skipped writing it)
summary: in which little surprises go the longest ways
today we’ll be trying three different birthday cakes at three drastically different price points
inspiration: it’s @purelyparker‘s 18th birthday and because she’s so sweet and wonderful i thought i’d give her a little present! happy birthday cutie! :)
“So, darling, what do you have planned for today?” Tom’s voice filters through the speaker on your phone as it rests precariously on the edge of your dresser.
You hum as you hold a dress against your figure, scrutinizing yourself in the mirror and internally debating whether or not you can withstand the cold Boston weather in nothing but a sundress. Tilting your head at your reflection, you tell him, “I’m going to brunch with a friend in an hour and then meeting my parents for dinner later in the evening. I don’t really have much going on.”
All you get in response before your conversation reaches an impasse is a hum of acknowledgement. Your brows crease together in slight confusion as you slip the dress over your head, “Why?”
You can envision the look on your boyfriend’s face as he says, a little too quickly, “No reason. Just wondering. It is your birthday after all.”
There’s a short pause before he sighs and continues, undertones of guilt coloring his voice, “I’m really sorry I’m not with you today, babe. You know I would be there if I could, right?”
A slow, affectionate smile creeps onto your face, lifting the corners of your lips, “Of course I do! It’s not your fault you’re successful and amazing and in Canada shooting a movie-”
He laughs at your little quip before you continue, “-it’s not even a big deal. It’s just one birthday. There will be plenty more to celebrate together in the future.”
Your endless support and promise of the future sends thrills racing up and down Tom’s spine and he can feel warmth color his cheeks.
“I promise,” he starts, cradling his phone between his ear and shoulder, “we’ll be together and celebrating your birthday sooner than you know it.”
Little did you know, “sooner” would come much more quickly than you ever could imagine; Tom’s plane had already touched down in Massachussetts.
The next few hours were a whirlwind.
Tom had to plan his surprise visit down to a tee: while you were getting ready for brunch with your friend, he was on the phone with you and getting the spare key to your apartment from your parents; while you were leaving your apartment building, Tom was watching your departure from the backseat of a nearby cab; while you were pulling out of your parking spot, he was sneaking out of the cab and into your apartment, white and gold balloons and a boquet of roses clutched in his arms.
Granted, to any passersby, he looked like a lunatic - what with all the streamers trailing behind him on the street - but he didn’t seem to notice or care; the only thoughts occupying his mind were giving you the best birthday he could.
Once successfully in your cute two bedroom apartment, Tom got to work, tying balloons to your bedposts and spreading rose petals all along your sheets and floors. Pulling an elongated jewelry box out of his pocket, he did his best to place it in the center of your bed while simultaneously texting your friend and asking her to stall you for just a bit longer. She could only promise him an extra ten minutes, but that was enough to appease him.
After another hastily spent five minutes, he put his hands on his hips and admired his handiwork; your room was a mess of streamers and balloons, but Tom thought he did a pretty good job considering his limited time frame.
True to your friend’s word, you were stalled only for a mere ten minutes, and soon Tom heard the telltale sounds of you coming home: keys jingling as you took them out of your bag, the lock turning, door opening.
When you got home, you idled in your kitchen, unaware of anything out of the ordinary, but a text from Tom piqued your interest.
Check your room :)
If his slightly strange behavior from your conversation earlier didn’t give his surprise away, this text did. You had a sneaking suspicion that Tom wouldn’t let your birthday go uncelebrated, but you didn’t expect him to be able to fly out for you.
Steeling yourself for whatever was waiting for you on the other side of your bedroom door, you pushed it open only to be greeted by a barrage of decorations and a smiling boyfriend. Though part of you was expecting to see him standing in your room, nothing could have prepared you for your racing heartbeat and warm cheeks; it just felt so good to finally see him again after months of separation.
Before he could finish his sentence, you were barreling into him with so much force he fell back onto your bed, cushioning your fall; the fragrant scent of rose petals and Tom’s cologne flooded your senses and for the first time in a long time you felt like everything was right again. Tom’s laugh reverberated in his chest as his arms came up instictively to circle around your waist. You nuzzled your nose into his neck in attempts to keep yourself from crying, grin parting your lips, “You’re here!”
He laughed again, running a palm up the length of your spine. He turned his head to kiss the top of yours, breathing in the smell of your shampoo - something he didn’t realized he missed so much until this very moment, “Of course I’m here. You didn’t actually think I wasn’t going to come and see you on your birthday did you?”
Pulling away from his embrace to look down at him, you pursed your lips in thought, “I’m more surprised that you actually managed to keep it a secret.”
He rolled his eyes, taking your cheeks in his hands and squeezing, making you giggle. He decided to sidestep your teasing to wish you a proper happy birthday. A genuine, fond smile curved your lips at his sentiment and you closed the short distance between you two to wed your lips together.
With your cheeks still in his hands, he moved to kiss your forehead, your nose, and your cheeks, stopping to rest his lips on yours one more time.
You pulled away briefly to furrow your eyebrows at him, “You know you didn’t really have to fly out here. You’re going to be so tired when you get back to shooting.”
He massaged the crease between your brows with the tip of his finger in attempts to keep you from crinkling your face, laughing when you pouted and swatted his hand away, “Don’t worry about that. You’re worth it. Happy birthday, love.”
You buried your face in his neck again, inhaling the oh so familiar smell of his skin, kissing the underside of his jaw, “It is now.”
so yesterday i got my first tattoo and everything was fine when he was doing the line work and then we took a break to go smoke and then we came back and did shading and it hurt like a BITCH but he told me to go to my happy place and then HARRY JUST POPPED IN MY HEAD AND WHAT IF HARRY WAS A TATTOO ARTIST???? You'd be whining but he is so focused on the art before him and just mumbling, "Just a little bit left, hold on for me? yeah? you think you could do that?" IM SEETHING
OMG OMG OMG :-(( 1.) CONGRATS ON UR FIRST TAT BBY I HOPE U LIKE IT V MUCH AND UR HAPPY 💝💝 2.)
Just imagine him leaning next to you as you get it on your upper arm, his warm breathing tickling your ear as the hum of the machine is the only sound in the quiet room.
You’re wriggling and whimpering at the pain, trying your best to remain still but it hurts and irritates and you just want it over with.
Harry comforts you, eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration with his lips tilted down slightly, looking incredibly intense, but his voice comes out soft and soothing. “You’re alright, pet. Jus’ a little longer and then we’ll be finished. You’re doing amazing, yeah? Strong girl, y'are.”
You grit your teeth, nodding slowly and squeezing your eyes shut for a second. You turn your neck to face him, trying your best to distract yourself by looking at the posters behind him and all around the room, focusing on details in order to shove the pain from your mind.
You end up zeroing back in on Harry, gaze gluing on his pretty lips that are set in a determined pout. Your eyes hops around his different features, using them as an anchor to the pain.
His bright, rainforest green eyes that shimmer with specks of gold and bronze, full of professionalism and confidence as the image of the tattoo needle reflects across their glossy surface. His nose, which is long and slightly pointed, but buttons at the tip adorably. His fine cheekbones and strong jaw, which is set taunt in centralization as he focuses on nothing else but your skin and the pen.
What you say next slips out suddenly in a lapse of pain-induced weakness, your voice coming out shaky and meek. “You’re really pretty, Harry.”
You immediately regret it, eyes screwing tight as you feel your cheeks simmer with embarrassment. If you weren’t in such a movement-sensitive position at the moment, you’d shove your fist in your mouth.
To find even more works that are 100k+ please refer to this list of basic fandom must reads. Those works will not be repeated on this list. The works on this list are all works I have read and they will be ordered by length, the shortest starting at 100k, the longest being 286k.
Prompt : malec casually shows PDA in the middle of the institute. 5 times they show PDA and nobody says a thing + 1 time that someone (FINALLY) did
Hi anon! Thank you so much for thinking of me for a prompt and for this prompt specifically because I’m a sucker for loved up, cute Malec! Here you go, I hope you like it! Also, shout out to @llycea who picked the “fluff” option!
Jace is pissed.
It’s late and there’s a werewolf
who’s terrorising half of New York and it’s late and
Luke isn’t answering his phone and it’s late and
he doesn’t want to deal with the bureaucracy of the whole thing and
go handle a feral werewolf on his own. And it’s late. And Clary is
asleep in their room, and he’d very much like to go back to that as
soon as possible.
Summary: Dean talks in his sleep sometimes. And he has interesting things to say.
Characters: Dean Winchester x reader
Word count: 826 (let’s pretend it’s a drabble, okay? This is a drabble)
Warnings: This is pure, unadulterated fluff.
Author’s Note: So, apparently @ravengirl94 and I cannot torment each other with sleepy Dean gifs without actually writing a story about them. She wrote this masterpiece a few days ago and since then we discovered that the gif above is our favorite sleepy Dean gif (I personally like to imagine that he’s snuggling into me), so I made a story to go with it. Also, thank you so much, twin, for reading this over for me. (Honestly, none of my stuff would be posted if she didn’t put up with my constant whining so she’s a hero, guys)
One thing you’ve come to realize when you started dating Dean Winchester is that falling asleep next to him is an absolute gift, the best part of your day even.
Granted, Dean is a strong man, all muscles and strength, lean arms and legs that can hurt and torture and kill, but his body is always soft and warm against yours, a cocoon of safety that makes you feel loved and cherished.
You love the firmness of it, love the way it feels pressed against yours, love the fact that no matter how long the day has been or how tired you are or how long you have to wait for him to come to bed, you always end up a mess of limbs, even breaths and steady heartbeats. He usually keeps you pressed against his side, arm draped over your hip protectively, legs tangled, bodies fitting together perfectly like pieces of the same broken glass. Tonight though, it’s different.
“Twenty-six letters in the English alphabet,” whispers Victor, gently stroking Yuuri’s cheek as he sits next to him on a folding chair on the Hasetsu beach, the stars twinkling in the sky, the waves gently crashing onto the sand with the sound of serenity and privacy.
“Twenty-six letters,” Victor repeats, and Yuuri stares at him, wide-eyed and beautiful, hair soft as Victor runs his fingers through it. The breeze whips by, and Yuuri laughs. Victor’s fingers briefly tangle in Yuuri’s locks, and Yuuri reaches up his own hand to help Victor out.
Victor’s heart pounds, loudly, accompanying the rhythm of the waves, creating a wild dance between his emotions and the world surrounding him.
He can’t pay attention to the waves, when he’s in front of Yuuri. He can’t be bothered to shift on the chair, where he’s slightly twisted as Yuuri holds tightly the hand that is furthest from him. He can barely breathe. They’re engaged, and they’ve known each other for nearly two years now, yet Yuuri never fails to set his heart aflame.
“More than twenty thousand,” says Yuuri, and Victor responds with a confused expression.
“More than two thousand commonly used kanji,” clarifies Yuuri with a small smile. Victor loves that smile, when his eyes crinkle and his face softens sweetly.
“That’s right,” answers Victor. “And thirty-three letters in the Russian alphabet,” he adds.
“Yes,” says Yuuri, and he’s smiling fully now, but still looks confused.
“There are twenty-six letters in the English alphabet, thirty-three in the Russian alphabet, and more than two thousand commonly used kanji,” says Victor, holding Yuuri’s hand tighter. “With those, I can string together any words I want. I can feel your eros in the letter E, taste the katsudon in the letter K, hear your name in the letter Y.”
“But Yuuri,” continues Victor, as he feels his eyes begin to water. “But Yuuri, despite all of this, despite these twenty-six letters, these thirty-three characters, these two thousand kanji–I could never, never, have enough letters to describe…”