god is more than enough

On The Edge With You (Spencer Reid x Reader)

My first Reid smut! Just an idea that popped in my head. PWP. Spencer Reid x Reader smut. The reader wonders just how Spencer gained his stamina in the bedroom, he shows her just how he gained that skill.


“Spencer, can I ask you something kind of,” You hesitated, “Personal?” You were both on his couch, you lying down with your feet in his lap. It was one of his rare weekends without a case or paperwork. You both opted for a quiet night in after going out to lunch.

“Sure?” He said looking up from his book, a little concerned. “We’ve been together for months Y/N, I hope you know you can ask me anything.”

“How do you last so long in bed?” You blurted out, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. You didn’t mean for it to sound so accusing. It was a valid question though, just the night before you came three times before Spencer even seemed close to finishing. It got you curious, and even a little worried.

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3

meanwhile, in a nearby bush:

the-true-guy  asked:

I got a theory, what if, Frisk gives Asriel their soul, and Asriel will become the god of hyperdeath, and will have more than enough power to defeat that pink menace????? Because Asriel is a God, and he has infinite health and infinite defense, so it will be impossible for that pink menace to kill him C:

I don’t think that messing around with the “Player”’s soul is a good idea in a glitched timeline to be honest.

Maggie’s Nightmare, Alex’s Comfort (post 2x19)

Prompt from @sanverscorp – “Maggie having a really bad nightmare about not being able to save Alex or something and she wakes up crying and Alex assures her she’s right here :)“


Her “hey you” had been the best words Maggie had ever heard. 

Because staring out the window, Maggie had been seeing all the ways they could have been just a few minutes later. All the ways they could have been just a few minutes earlier.

Because later, and Alex would be… no. She’s fine, she’s fine, she’s fine. Right?

Because earlier, and maybe Maggie would hate herself a little bit less, because she couldn’t imagine the pain, the terror, the…

Because she would never get the image of Alex’s body, floating there, out of her mind, so she can’t imagine how Alex can possibly forgive her for getting there so late, so literally last second, so…

The “hey you” had brought her back. Had roused her from her waking nightmare. Had brought her into Alex’s arms.

And then Alex had asked if she was okay. Of course Alex asked.

And Maggie brushed her off.

Brushed her off because she was the one whose lungs had burned, she was the one who’d sliced open her own body with a credit card, for crying out loud, she was the one who’d almost…

Brushed her off because it’s whatever, because Alex is fine now, right, because Alex needs all the attention, all the care, not Maggie. 

Maggie, who almost didn’t rescue her in time.

So she brushes Alex off, because Alex has suppressed her own feelings, her own needs, for far too long, and Maggie will be damned if she lets her do that now, of all times.

But all that dedication, all that determination, can’t stop the nightmares.

Alex is having a lot of her own, lately – more than usual, anyway – but when she’s having a dreamless sleep, she’s out cold, and Maggie has to put her head on her chest to feel it rise, feel it fall. Hear Alex’s heartbeat.

But it’s good, too, because when Alex sleeps that hard, she can’t hear Maggie’s nightmares. Can’t hear the aftermath.

Can’t hear Maggie’s sobs, her desperate gasping for breath.

Her wishing she’d been the one kidnapped, not Alex, not Alex, because god, hasn’t that woman been through enough?

She’s been through enough – more than enough – so when Maggie wakes in a cold sweat from a dream, a dream where Alex is floating, floating, but she doesn’t gasp for breath when Kara punches the glass, doesn’t move, doesn’t react, doesn’t gasp back to life, back to herself, back to the woman Maggie’s in love with, back to the woman Maggie is supposed to share all her firsts with, doesn’t respond to Maggie’s shouts and her CPR and her desperate, desperate pleas… when Maggie wakes, she can’t tell which parts of her face are covered in sweat and which parts of her face are covered in tears.

She doesn’t want to wake her – god, she doesn’t want to wake her – but she needs to see her chest rise and fall, needs to feel her breathing, breathing, breathing.

She turns desperately in bed, her own chest racking with violent sobs, and Alex gives her more than deep breaths. Alex cracks open her eyes, and Alex sits up immediately, because Maggie’s eyes are wild and her face is contorted and soaked and Alex knows.

“Come here,” she says without asking for an explanation, because she doesn’t need one. She holds out her arms, but Maggie refuses them, refuses them, because she’s the one who’s supposed to be taking care of Alex, she’s the one who’s supposed to be – 

“Maggie, I’m right here. I’m right here, please – please, let me hold you, let me – “

“No, you don’t get to do that, Danvers! You don’t get to make like you’re fine, like everything’s fine, because it’s not fine, Alex! Nothing’s fine. You almost died, I almost lost you, you had to cut into your own skin with that damn credit card and now I panic and almost throw up every single time I’m at the damn grocery store and pay with my bank card because he tortured you, Danvers, you, not me, so you don’t get to comfort me, I’m not the one who gets to be comforted, you understand me, I’m not the one who almost…” 

She breaks and she collapses and for a long, long moment, she’s the one without breath, gasping for air like each time might be her last, and she’s clinging to Alex helplessly, helplessly, because Alex’s arms are strong and they’re warm and Alex is alive, alive, alive. 

“Maggie, I’m here. I’m here and hey, listen to me, hey, hey, hey.” Maggie looks up and her lips tremble and her eyes are bloodshot, and Alex kisses her face over, and over, and over.

Because this is why she held on.

“Maggie, he didn’t just torture me. He didn’t just stalk me. That was both of us, babe. Kara, too. He put you both in an impossible position, Maggie, and he – I wasn’t the only one, Maggie. You’re allowed to have feelings, you’re allowed to react. You’re allowed to have nightmares, babe. If it had been you, I…” She shudders and the only thing that stops her from starting to hyperventilate is Maggie’s hand on her chest, her lips on her jawline.

“We’re in this together, okay? We held on together, and we’re going to figure out how to keep living together, okay babe? I love you, Maggie. I love you, and that means we’re gonna do this together. Okay?”

“Say it again?” Maggie whispers, because she’ll never forgive herself for not letting Alex say it earlier, because what if, what if, what if.

Alex smiles and kisses her lips slow and tender and long.

“I love you, Maggie Sawyer. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

A fresh wave of tears spring into Maggie’s eyes – to match the ones swimming in Alex’s – and she can’t help the smile on her face, the leaping in her heart.

“I love you too, Alex Danvers. I love you so damn much.”

There will be more nightmares. Too many.

There will be more cold sweats and more screams.

They both know.

They both know, but tonight? 

Tonight, there will only be more I love yous.

And all those future nights, with terrors and tortures and tremors?

They’ll get through those together.

Because I love you, I love you, I love you.

Like Limbs and Hearts, Entwined (Part 2)

Summary:  When the woven birch crown appears in the Sacred Grove, the village elders know that The God of Field and Forest, The Lord of the Ancient Wood, has decided to take a Bride.  The most beautiful girl in the village, chosen by him and blessed with his grace, is to perform the marriage rites on the First Summer Moon, thus ensuring a bountiful harvest and continued prosperity for the community…  And you are so very certain and so very thankful that it could never be you!

Warnings: SNEK, future smut

A/N: big thanks to @abovethesmokestacks for giving me so many ideas and letting me babble at her about things

Prev.

Soon after the ground began to thaw from the last snow, it was time to work on the season’s planting.  One cloudless early morning, your father set out on his daily chore of checking the traps he’d placed in the woods while you went about preparing the garden.  It was not a particularly easy task, but you had never shied away from hard work.  In fact, you were quite fond of this day of the year.  There was something about working the damp earth after a long cold winter, the promise of future harvest, the pride in a job well done.  It made the sweat and mucked up skirts and exhaustion at the end of the day worthwhile.

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fire and persuasion

edan never wanted to go back, she never wanted to step foot on the cobbled terrain or look in the eyes of people who labeled her as a hero. her prophecy was fulfilled, the fates had rested their scissors down and let go of her thread. olympus wasn’t supposed to need her again. 

but it did. 

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anonymous asked:

Prompt: After a particular hard mission Alex comes home and just wants to lose control. So she basically drops to her knees and is ready to bottom once she comes home. I'm sorry. I am just a sucker for angsty sex...

Her nerve endings have been on fire for over eighteen hours.

She’d washed off almost as much blood as she had dirt in the DEO showers, and every one of her muscles ached.

She’d commanded her team and she’d gotten every single one of them home safe, including that rookie agent who had a kid on the way.

She’d been on her game, completely present, completely in control, completely focused, for over eighteen torturous hours with no let up.

If she’d lost control, even for a moment, people would have died. Good people. People who have other people who love them.

People she couldn’t afford to fail.

And now? Now, all she wants is the woman waiting for her at home, the woman who’d texted her saying Winn told me you had a rough mission, babe. I’m so proud of you for getting everyone home safe. I’d love to see you, but if you need to be alone, it’s completely fine. Let me know what’s best for you.

But Alex doesn’t want to let her know.

Oh, she’ll tell her all about the mission, all about the way they almost lost Chan, the way she almost lost a limb, the way they almost lost Winter.

She’ll tell her, but she’ll tell her tomorrow.

Right now? Right now, she doesn’t want to make any decisions.

Not anymore, not tonight. Tonight, she wants Maggie to make all of the decisions for her.

So she doesn’t text back, instead making the last decision she wants to have control of tonight. She shows up to Maggie’s studio and scrapes her key in the lock.

She looks into Maggie’s eyes – Maggie, fumbling around in the kitchen, wearing nothing but boxers and one of James’s sweatshirts – and she knows, immediately, that Maggie understands, just from looking at her – just from looking at her slightly hunched shoulders, her doe eyes, her small stance – what she wants. What she needs.

Maggie says nothing, just sets down the dish she was drying, wipes her hands, tosses the towel down, and strides past Alex to close and lock the door. She licks her lips, subtly checking Alex’s body for any outward signs of injuries.

Alex sinks to her knees.

Maggie’s breath hitches.

Alex’s eyes are wide and innocent and raw and needy, and when she licks her lips slow and suggestive, she makes it clear what she wants to do with them next.

Maggie tries to remember how to breathe before bending down and kissing Alex’s forehead.

“Be a good girl for me and stay here for a minute. Don’t move a muscle, Ally.”

Her words are commanding, but her voice is liquid and her eyes are gentle, are protection, are comfort, are safety.

Alex nods obediently. “Understood,” she whispers, and a thrill shoots through Maggie’s core as she strokes Alex’s hair gently before striding to her bedside table.

She feels Alex watching her, and her face heats up as her heart races, the sound of the opening drawer grating through the studio as she tugs out a harness, tugs out a strap on, and secures them both over her boxers. She adjusts herself so the base of the dildo is right over her clit, and she shudders with anticipation.

On her way back across the apartment – on her way back to Alex – she grabs a pillow, and when she’s back in range of touching her kneeling girlfriend, she instructs her to lift so she can rest her knees on the pillow.

Alex rises obediently, but her eyes are fixated on Maggie’s strap-on, her hips practically arching with need.

“Something you want, babygirl?” Maggie asks, tousling Alex’s hair with an almost lazy – but extremely deliberate – hand.

Alex nods quietly, and Maggie understands.

“I want you to suck me off, Alex. Can you do that for me?”

A strangled whimper nearly dies in Alex’s throat, and her eyes are wide, and her eyes are eager as she nods again.

“Good girl. Go on now, open your lips for me, baby.”

Alex obeys readily, and Maggie barely contains a growl.

She tosses her head back and pushes her hips toward Alex’s mouth as slowly, as controlled, as she can. Alex moans around the strap-on as she takes Maggie deeper, and the vibrations, the sound, the image of Alex Danvers on her knees for her, trusting her, loving her, wanting her, nearly make Maggie’s knees give out.

“I wanna be in the back of your throat, Ally,” Maggie whispers, her face hot, her heart hammering because what if that’s too much, what if Alex doesn’t –

But Alex does, god, she does, because Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, and Maggie’s fingers tangle in Alex’s hair as Alex takes her as deep as she can, bring her fingers to the base of Maggie’s strap-on and pushing in time with the movements of her mouth, her lips, so Maggie has all the pressure on her clit that she needs.

“Alex,” she moans raggedly, and Alex smiles even as Maggie fills her mouth, because god, she’s never trusted anyone like this, never wanted anyone like this, never wanted anyone to make decisions for her like this, to take care of her like this.

And god, does Maggie want to take care of her.

“You’re being such a good girl for me, I’m gonna make you cum, okay Al?” Maggie tells her, taking her hands out of her hair, off the back of her head, and offering to help her up.

“Understood,” Alex whispers in a small voice that has Maggie wondering what kind of torture she saw today, what kind of hell she survived, but she knows they’ll talk in the morning, in the safety of the sunrise and coffee and warm blankets and nakedness.

Right now? Now, she’s going to make good on her promise to make Alex Danvers writhe and scream and beg for her.

“Bed,” Maggie tells her when she’s on her feet, and Alex walks forward obediently.

“Strip,” is Maggie’s next command, soft but steady, and Alex’s wide eyes leave Maggie’s as she removes her boots, her socks, her jeans, her shirt, her bra, her underwear.

“My beautiful girl,” Maggie murmurs, and Alex has never felt this safe.

“Lay down and spread your legs for me.” Alex squeaks and Alex obeys.

“Understood,” she whispers, and Maggie is wildly in love.

Maggie kisses her way up Alex’s body, from toes to knees to inner thighs, from clit to stomach to breasts to collarbone to throat to face.

“You are so gorgeous, Alex Danvers,” she breathes into her ear, and Alex writhes for contact.

“Touch yourself for me, Ally. Show me what you want me to do to you.”

Alex could cum just from those words alone, just from the intensity in Maggie’s eyes, the way her look makes her feel surrounded, protected, held. Safe. Loved.

Valued.

Taken care of.

She brings trembling fingers to her nipple and she brings trembling fingers to her clit.

She pinches and she pressures and she obeys Maggie when she reminds her to keep her legs open so she can see everything.

“Is that how you want me to touch you, Alex?”

Alex squeaks and nods, and Maggie grins softly.

“With my fingers, with my tongue, or with my strap-on?”

Alex stammers and Alex can’t form words, and Maggie leans down to kiss her forehead, and Maggie understands, so Maggie guesses.

“You want me tongue here,” she suggests, gesturing to Alex’s nipple, and Alex nods desperately.

Maggie smiles and gently lifts Alex’s hand away from her breast, bringing her fingers slowly, deliberately, one-by-one, into her mouth. She licks and she sucks and she makes Alex whimper and thrash desperately, still touching her own clit, as Maggie wets each of Alex’s fingers before returning them to Alex’s nipple.

Alex gasps as her nipple hardens at the contact, and Maggie smiles softly.

“Good girl, Ally,” she whispers, kissing her forehead again.

“And you um… you want me to stay on your clit, or you want me to fuck your pussy like I fucked your mouth?”

Alex gasps out a strangled scream and her hips arch violently. “I…”

“You don’t have to say it, baby, just show me. Show me what you want, beautiful.”

“Understood,” Alex chokes out, barely breathing, and slips her three of her own fingers inside herself, all at once, because god she knows she’s more than wet enough, and Maggie moans raggedly at the image.

“You’re gorgeous, Danvers,“ she promises her, and Alex smiles breathlessly.

“I’m going to fuck you just how you want to be fucked now, okay? You gonna be a good girl and let me make you cum nice and hard for me?”

Alex squeaks and Alex nods, and Alex is wrecked and Alex is so, so desperate.

Maggie makes good on her word, her tongue working magic on Alex’s nipple, her palm, her thigh, working wonders on Alex’s clit, her strap-on stretching Alex out just like she wants, just like she’s begging for, just like she’s been waiting for since Maggie pulled out of her mouth.

Maggie holds her extra close when Alex cums, screaming and thrashing and gasping for breath, and Maggie whispers to her the entire way through.

“There’s my good girl.”

“I got you, baby, just let it all go.”

“God, you’re beautiful, Alex.”

“Alex, Alex, Alex.”

“I love you, Alex. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And god, god, god, does she love Maggie, too.

anonymous asked:

hey i rly enjoy ur writing & was wondering if you could write a percabeth fic based on "there's something scary about knowing a guy would literally go to hell and back for you"?you probs hav lots of asks but i saw this & thought it'd make a nice fic

Annabeth has spent a lifetime making herself self-sufficient.

A girl doesn’t leave home at seven years old without the expectation of having to fend for herself. Even after joining up with Luke and Thalia – well. One of them had gotten turned into a tree, and the other had never been the same after that.

She had gotten used to the idea of being left behind. Of leaving others before they could do the same.

And then Percy Jackson happened.

She suspects that most people who encounter him, friend and foe alike, are intimately familiar with that concept. You don’t just meet Percy Jackson. He’s not the sort of guy you run into on the street, or get introduced to by a friend. Percy Jackson happens to you, and it’s never clear what direction your life is going to take when he does.

It’s not until he tells her that she is the only thing he remembered that it really hits home for her.

She happened to him, as well.

And that – it would have been enough. More than enough, gods, that was everything. She hadn’t needed never again. She hadn’t needed the grip on her wrist. She hadn’t needed to look up into his face, and see his death reflecting back at her.

Somehow, despite all the odds, they make it. They survive Tartarus and Gaia, and they even survive each other in the after, when anger and resentment and the remnants of terror threaten to overwhelm them.

Annabeth has spent a lifetime wishing she could know everything. A girl isn’t the daughter of the Goddess of the Wisdom without a hunger for knowledge.

“Percy,” she murmurs one night, when they’re bundled up in his bed. It’s technically against the rules, but no one wants to deny them this.

“Mmphf?” He has to push his chin back into his neck to look down at her properly, and he looks so ridiculous that the question she’d planned on asking briefly flees her mind.

She snorts, shoving him in the shoulder. “Never do that again, Percy, oh my gods.”

“What, this?”

He tucks his chin in even further, crossing his eyes at her. There’s no stopping the giggles after that, not even once he regains his chin and dips his head to catch her mouth with his.

“Were you going to ask me something?” he murmurs, around the laughter and the kissing.

Being wise, Annabeth thinks, sometimes involves knowing when you don’t need something confirmed.

“Nope,” she lies easily, and pushes him over onto his back. He falls away from her without much protest – there’s not much to complain about, when she follows right after.

What would you choose? If it came down to me and the world again?

The world can only hope that it doesn’t.

2
4

Please don’t be a Kyouya, Sisco.

Don’t throw temper tantrums and cause problems for whatever team you’re on. Don’t be That Guy.

6

Jenkins in S3E4 - “And the Self-Fulfilling Prophecy”

Three is Enough

A/N: An anon request for a Spencer x Reader where a sonogram was misread and the child they have (their third) turns out to be a girl instead of a boy. They had a boy’s name in mind that the reader didn’t like, but relented to anyway, because she chose the names of their twins. When the boy’s name doesn’t have to be used, she is secretly happy and ends up telling Spencer. @coveofmemories

                                                             ——-

“Push!” your OBGYN said. “One more time and you’ll get to meet your baby boy!”

“Fuck!” you screamed, bearing down as your lower half burned with pain. With one final push, you felt him leave your body and immediately you started to cry. This is exactly what happened with the boys, Alexander and Oliver, too. As soon as Alexander came out, you’d started sobbing, well - like a baby - and could barely contain yourself to get Oliver out of you too, but thankfully, you’d done enough to get him out and then dissolved into a puddle of wet, happy tears.

“Well, Dr. and Mrs. Reid,” the OB said, “I am excited to say you have a happy, healthy baby girl. Something must’ve been obstructing the sonogram.”

“Oh my god,” you cried. “Hi…Harper?” You looked toward Spencer; it was the name you’d settled on when you weren’t sure of the sex of your new bundle of joy. You wanted to make sure that name was still okay with him; you loved it.

“Harper,” he said, kissing the top of her tiny, little head. “I still love it. Hi baby.” As he grazed the peach fuzz on her forehead, she started to calm, sinking into your arms. Spencer leaned over, pressing a firm kiss to your pursued lips. “She’s beautiful. And now we have a girl too. Do you want me to go get the boys?”

“Not yet,” you sighed, finally feeling the crash from the adrenaline high you’d just experienced. “I think I need to sleep for a little bit.”

Spencer stared in awe at you - bringing your third child into the world. “Okay, hold on, let me go outside and tell everyone and that you need a little while to rest. Then I’m going to come back and hold our beautiful, little baby girl for a while.”

Minutes later, Spencer returned, covered in the happy tears of your families and friends. He’d asked JJ to watch the boys for a little while longer and once you woke up, he’d go get them. “I’m back, beautiful,” he said, walking into the room and reaching for Harper. 

“You talking to her or me?” you yawned. 

“Both.”

                                                            ——-

About an hour later, you woke up and asked to see all of the babies together. “Can our friends and family come in?” you asked the nurse. “I’d really like to see everyone, but I really don’t wanna get up. Everything hurts.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “I’ll go get little Harper and your husband can go get everyone else.” 

Within five minutes, Harper was in your arms and the boys were running into the room excited to see their little sister. “Harper!” Oliver screamed as he ran to your side. Spencer shushed him, lifting both boys onto your bed so they could look at her. 

“She’s pink,” Alexander said, his little two-and-a-half-year-old voice squeaking out of him.

You laughed, combing back the fluffy brown hair of the older twin’s head. “Yes, she is. That’s how you both looked when you came out of my tummy too.”

Oliver was the more quiet one, but he leaned into your arm as he gazed at his little sister. “I thought you said we were having a brother. You said his name was  Carl.”

“Carl?” Morgan said incredulously as he bent down to kiss your forehead. “You look stunning.” He looked at you and then over to Spencer. “You look like hell though.”

“Thanks, Morgan,” he laughed. “And yes, Oliver, his name was going to be Carl, but the doctors saw the picture wrong, so they didn’t know it was a girl.”

That seemed to satisfy Oliver and it didn’t look like Alexander cared. They both just sat at your side and stared at the baby sleeping soundly in your arms. “Yes,” you said to everyone, “When it was a boy it was going to be Carl.” The distaste for the name must’ve oozed out of you because Spencer looked surprised.

“What, you didn’t like the name?” he asked.

You shrugged, scrunching your face up. “No,” you admitted. “I picked the boys’ names and you loved that name so much, so I figured I’d let you have it, but secretly, it was definitely not what I would’ve named him. That’s the kind of name that gets you stuffed in a locker babe.”

Spencer laughed under his breath. “Yea, I guess it is.”

“Where the h…” Morgan started before realizing there were still kids in the room.  Where did Carl even come from?”

“Sagan,” you both said in unison. “Carl Sagan. Famous astrophysicist.”

“Kid, really?” Morgan said, slapping Spencer on the back of the shoulder. “Thank god it was a girl. Speaking of…” He walked over to you, not-so-silently asking if he could hold her. Carefully, you handed her over to him, while Spencer sat at your side.

“You really hated the name Carl?” he whispered, as Morgan brought Harper into the middle of the room into a sea of loving aunts, uncles, grandparents and cousins. Oliver had fallen asleep on your shoulder and Alexander wasn’t too far behind. 

“Loathed it, love,” you chuckled, doing your best to not wake the boys. “Couldn’t stand it.”

“You were going to let me name him Carl even though you hated it?” he asked sweetly. He looked like he was about to cry again. The sentiment really touched him.

You were. It’s not like a name was going to make you not like your child - and it meant a lot to Spence, so you’d relented. “Of course I was. I love you,” you said, pursing your lips for yet another kiss. “But now we don’t need the name. We have Harper. And I think we’re done now right?”

“With kids?” he asked quickly. “God yes. Three is more than enough.”

Seeds

Finally broke the damn writing slump, thanks to kalonrain on fanfiction.net (because I just read their in-progress fic “Dark Temptation”). I’ve had this idea in the back of my mind for ages now, but finally got it down in written form. Have a sort-of swaplocked Hades & Persephone AU ficlet. Rated T and soon to be posted to AO3 and fanfic.net.

She awakens from a restless night’s sleep, dreams of an unseen lover still clouding her mind, and so it’s hours later before she notices the round, red mark on her right wrist. Frowning, she concentrates, but the mark remains, stubborn and colorful and reminding her of something…of what, she has no idea. It’s simply a teasing thought at the back of her mind, one even the Goddess of Death can’t pluck into the light and examine.

So she decides to wait, to see what happens; when nothing does, she shrugs it off, having far more important matters to see to than a random red dot on her wrist, even if it appeared there without her willing it into existence. Perhaps her sister-goddess, the all-powerful Zeus (whom she still calls Sally, childhood nicknames and rivalries never being laid to rest between them) has decided to visit this upon her. To give her a mystery to dwell on, or to perhaps lure her up to Olympus for a visit.

Hades (whom Sally still calls Molly, because the childhood nicknames and rivalries run both ways) refuses to give in, if that’s the case. There’s no pain, no itching or other malaise, so whatever it is she can safely ignore it. She’s the Goddess of Death, after all; anything not having to do with the care and maintenance of the souls in her realm is of no consequence. She takes her duties seriously - perhaps too seriously, Sally would say, but it’s no light burden she bears. It would be nice, perhaps, to find someone to share that burden with, but she pushes that thought away. Every assignation or attempt at a relationship more permanent than a single night’s pleasure had ended in disaster, whether with another God, Goddess or mortal.

Alone protects her, she tells herself as she prepares for sleep, not for the first time. Alone keeps her safe.

The next morning she looks automatically to her wrist, and curses aloud when she sees a second red mark, identical to the first. If this is Sally’s idea of a joke or a subtle summons, it’s a poor one, and she’s of half a mind to pop up to Olympus just to tell her so. But no, that’s exactly what Sally would want; being Queen of the Gods went to her head long ago, and Molly refuses to play her games.

However, when the third dot appears the next morning, she decides enough is enough. She’s about to send herself to her sister’s throne and give her a piece of her mind when finally the teasing thought she’s been chasing makes itself known. A seed, she thinks. This is an image of a seed.

But what kind of seed? And why three of them on her wrist? Unlike the other gods who dwell in Olympus and in the mortal realm, she’s never bothered to vary her diet; nectar and ambrosia, the food of the Gods, has always been more than enough to sustain her. So she’s not very familiar with things like fruits and nuts, flowers and trees.

But she knows there are many who do know such things; Gods and Goddesses…and mortals. One of them will be able to identify the seed for her, even if they might not know why they’ve appeared on her wrist, and that will perhaps give her insight into the reason this is happening.

She cloaks herself in her darkest, most elegant gown, takes care with her hair and cosmetics, closes her eyes, and wills herself to the side of whoever it might be that can answer her question with the least amount of difficulty - not her sister, anyone but Sally, she thinks before she vanishes from the underworld and finds herself in a small orchard.

The mortal realm, she notes, and a mortal man, who is rising slowly from where he’d been kneeling on the grass, one hand still outstretched to grasp a fallen pear to place into his basket.

He’s rather beautiful, she notices, blinking in surprise at herself; she thought she’d trained that sort of reaction out of herself millennia ago. His head is a tumble of dark curls, his eyes green-blue and slanted in a cat-like manner, his lips full and plush, his cheekbones sharp, his form slim and fit beneath the dark tunic he wears. His sandal-clad feet are large, as are his hands, although his fingers are long and elegant. There’s a lyre resting against the basket, and she’s not at all surprised that he’s something of a musician as well as a gardener. “Do you know who I am?” she asks, not using the full power of her voice on him. After all, if he falls unconscious she’ll have to go through the tedium of waiting for him to awaken and answer her questions.

Ignoring the traitorous thought that watching him sleep would not necessarily be a burden, she keeps her gaze trained on him.

He nods as he finally makes his way to his feet, his outward impassivity matching her own, and impressing her quite a bit. Surprising for a mortal confronted by any Goddess, but especially the Goddess of Death.

“You’re Death, Hades,” he says, his voice a surprisingly deep baritone for so young a mortal - and he is quite young, just beginning his twenty-first year. She senses that automatically, the way she can tell the age of any soul she comes across, mortal or immortal, that innate ability the one that had caused her sister to offer her the realm of Death to rule over a thousand lifetimes ago.

She reaches out, allowing the folds of her dark stole to fall away from her wrist, and his eyes flicker to the three red circles imprinted there. “Tell me what you see.”

“The seeds of the punica granatum,” he says promptly, speaking a language she knows doesn’t exist yet. “The fruit of the dead.” He’s tugging at the leather wrist-guard on his left wrist, lifting the ties to his teeth in order to pull them free of their knots. He’s worn this for a long time, she can tell, and wonders at both his impossible knowledge and his actions.

Once he finally frees the ties, he removes the entire guard, dropping it to the ground and raising his wrist up for her to see. On it are three identical red pomegranate seeds. She sucks in a startled breath, and he smiles. “I’ve had them since birth. A soothsayer told my parents it marked me for Death, and that on my twenty-first birthday, Death would come for me.”

“And so I have,” she says softly, wonderingly, moving closer to him and resting her wrist against his so that the seeds line up together.

There’s a flare of light, a tingle of heat, and she feels some of her immortality seeping into this mortal boy’s blood. The seeds vanish, and understanding floods through her. She raises her head toward the sky, shaking it and smiling, privately vowing that she’ll find a way to pay her sister back for this - or thank her, one way or the other. “Meddling matchmaker,” she mutters, then smiles softly at her new soon-to-be lover. “Come along then,” she says, holding out her hand. “There’s much you have to learn about the underworld…and, I suspect, much you’ll have to teach me as well.”

“Sherlock,” he says with a half-smile curling his delectable lips. “In case you were wondering what my name was.”

“And you, my dear one, can call me Molly.” She kisses him, and he returns the kiss with enthusiasm rather than skill, and she knows that one of the many things she’ll be teaching him is the pleasures of the bedroom.

After all, he’s been saving himself for her all his life; it’s the very least she can do to repay him for his patience.

anonymous asked:

Jealous!mike when guys keep flirting with ginny at the club

please understand that I interpreted “club” very loosely, but i needed more opportunities to revel in the jealousy of Michael Lawson. And, honestly, a lot of this isn’t even flirting. It’s just Mike slowly losing his mind over not being able to flirt with Ginny. 

Also, while there are real people in this, I did zero research into what they are actually like in real life, so they might as well be fictional… 


way more than you hate it | ao3

Del Mar Country Club

“I can’t believe that Oscar made us show up to this thing,” Mike muttered, fidgeting with his hat. 

At his side, Blip shifted. Mike didn’t need to look to know that he was being rewarded with a side eye of epic proportions. 

“You’re surprised that the celebrity golf tournament required celebrities?”

Mike scowled, crossing his arms and hating the way the polo shirt he’d had to borrow cut into his biceps. That had been old before he’d been forced to play 18 holes with a bunch of snobs with more money than God. After, forced to mingle with those same snobs, they were pretty much torture.

“Do you even count as a celebrity?” he snarked, glad to finally find an outlet for his annoyance. Not that Blip was particularly satisfying to pick on.

“I’m a two-time All Star, baby,” the center fielder replied with a grin. “And don’t pretend this isn’t all because the people in your group didn’t know who you were.”

“I shouldn’t have to apologize for being some yokel’s celebrity,” Mike muttered, giving up on getting comfortable. He was wearing plaid shorts for God’s sake, of course he wasn’t comfortable. “I should’ve told Oscar to go to hell when he asked.”

Keep reading

[Werewlf AU] As Werewolf Puppies (EXO)

Requested by the lovely @leftmyheartinyokohama <3

*Don’t own the gif/s yo*

Author: Laymedown

SUHO: He would follow you around non-stop. Making sure you were in his sight at all times. When you weren’t though, he would pout and at times cry like any puppy would when it’s master leaves. When you came back, his eyes would light up and be by your side like before.

CHANYEOL: THE ENDLESS ENERGY! God this pup would be running around like he had more than enough to spare. It would take you a few scoldings to finally settle him down at night, once it got through his skull, he would be out like a light.

KYUNGSOO: He would be quite serious for just being a pup. He had too since his pack always tells him he was as scary as a stuffed animal. But it took him awhile to convince how serious he was as he truly was as squishy and cuddly looking as a stuffed animal.

BAEKHYUN: Just like Chanyeol this pup would have quite the bottle of energy stored in him. Always running around just wanting to play with the others. When it came to settling down though, he would be more than happy to come snuggle with you.

JONGIN: He would be all over you anytime you were home. He would be always at your side cuddling with you, showering you with kisses and wanting to sit/lay on your lap. There will come a time though, that he would want you to be the one sitting on his lap instead. ;>

SEHUN: Despite his size and demeanor, he would be the kind of pup that craves your attention even though he wouldn’t admit it. He would also be very protective of you, making sure the other pups knew who you belonged to.

XIUMIN: Everything would be exciting to him. He would just want to explore everything with you. Secretly though, despite his excitement for new things, he would be quite terrified and would keep you close to him. Especially when he first encountered a flock of pigeons.

CHEN: As a pup he would get into so much trouble no lie. Always getting into things that he shouldn’t, playing countless pranks on his elders, and the non stop howling (which always got you in trouble with your neighbors).

YIXING: ZZZZZzzzzzzz

~*FORMERS*~

KRIS: He would be such a clutz. He would have no sense of grace of balance, but that wouldn’t stop him from pretending he was alpha material.

TAO: He would think of himself as a great warrior of his pack, sometimes even picking a few fights to prove himself. Once he gets nipped in the tail though, he would come crying to you to be comforted.

LUHAN: He would always be huffing, puffing, and bristling his fur out to try and show people he wasn’t one to mess with. But like Kyungsoo, even his own pack couldn’t take him seriously as he was just too ‘puppy’ looking. You would try to comfort him, but even you couldn’t take his attempt to be warrior-like seriously.

anonymous asked:

Sanvers proposal???

After their first meeting, Maggie never stops thinking about the beautiful and intriguing Alex Danvers.

After Alex comes out, Maggie’s brain overrules her heart, tells her that it’s too good to be true, that there’s no chance she would have a shot with someone like Alex. Why would she? She’s broken, she’s borderline sociopathic, apparently, and she’s a cheater. She doesn’t deserve Alex Danvers.

After Alex kisses her, her psyche continues to win. She pushes Alex away, even though it kills her. She’d never been kissed like that before, never felt so at peace than she did in those few seconds their lips met. But she’s Maggie Sawyer and good things didn’t happen to her.

After she gets wounded in battle, sees her life flash before her eyes, and even after she pushed Alex away, Alex is still there for her. She had no obligation to tend to Maggie’s wounds but she did so, with a smile and gentle, caring hands. That’s when Maggie starts listening to her heart. That’s when Maggie Sawyer falls in love.

After two months of dating Alex, she starts saving. Nothing too crazy, just a little bit from her paycheck every month. If she does something stupid, pushes Alex away for good, she could use the money for herself - she’s always wanted a new bike after all.

After a year, it becomes a question of when. She first thinks Christmas but that’s too clichéd. Valentine’s Day is too, and she doesn’t want the bad memories that linger around that day to be attached to something so special, because Alex is just that – special. And she deserves a special day, an amazing day. So Maggie keeps thinking and keeps disregarding days before realising that no day will ever be amazing enough for Alex Danvers, the beautiful, kind and selfless DEO agent who risks her life every single day, yet never complains when she gets home.

It’s the middle of March when Maggie finally decides its time. She sits in a coffee shop, trying to plan it all out until the barista has to gently tell her its closing time. She heads home, butterflies dancing in her stomach.

Alex is curled up on the couch in her pyjamas, watching Seinfeld. She looks up and smiles as Maggie enters. ‘Hey, baby.’

Maggie says nothing as she walks over, grabbing the remote and switching the TV off, prompting a half annoyed, half confused look from her girlfriend.

‘I was watching that.’

‘I don’t even like that show but I’ve seen that episode countless times,’ Maggie says as she kneels in front of the couch, in front of Alex.

‘It’s a good show.’ Not just a good show but Alex’s favourite show, the show she always turned to at the end of a long day, or had on in the background whilst she browsed online, or just the show she watched when there was nothing else on. ‘Is everything okay?’ Alex asked, her brow furrowed.

‘Sit up for me, babe’ was all Maggie said, and it confused Alex more but she followed along anyway.

‘Did something happen at work?’

‘Nothing happened at work. And when I told you I had to work late, I lied to you.’

‘You lied to me?’ Alex’s voice was not angry, just confused and in her confusion, she did not seem to notice the way that Maggie shifted from kneeling on two knees, to kneeling on just one as she reached for Alex’s hand.

‘I finished at five and I sat in a coffee shop.’

‘For three hours?’

‘Yes. I was trying to think about what I wanted to say to you, how I wanted to say it to you but I just kept drawing blanks. I’ve never done this before and I don’t want to mess it up.’

‘Done what? You are confusing the hell outta me right now.’

Maggie took a deep breath and smiled, whilst her free hand reached into the back pocket of her jeans, flipping open the box behind her back as she had practiced many, many times in private, before she presented it to Alex, who suddenly realised that Maggie had been making perfect sense all along, because there she was, down on one knee and holding her hand and saying everything that she wanted to say in just two words. ‘Marry me?’

Tears formed in Alex’s eyes instantly. ‘Is this real?’ She said, her voice a whisper.

‘As real as you are.’

Alex smiled and Alex was choked by her own happiness, spluttering. ‘I-I…oh my God, Maggie.’ She pulled her hand away only so she could cup Maggie’s cheeks as she kissed her lovingly and longingly. That was her answer but it wasn’t enough – Maggie had to hear it out loud, so she pulled away.

‘So…yes?’

‘A million times, yes,’ Alex beamed, tears falling faster than she could wipe them away. ‘That ring is…so beautiful.’

‘Just like you.’ With shaking hands, Maggie plucked it from the box as she nodded towards Alex’s hand. ‘May I? You know, make it like official and everything?’ Because until that ring was on Alex’s finger, that voice inside her head would still scream at her, yelling that this wasn’t real, that good, happy things like this were things that never happened to people like her.

Alex held out her right hand.

Maggie tilted her head. ‘It’s the left hand, babe.’

Alex blushed as she corrected herself and Maggie found herself falling deeper in love with this amazing woman. The ring had cost nearly four grand and even though Maggie knew that Alex would have just been as happy if it had been made of cheap plastic, it still didn’t feel enough. ‘I’m kinda terrified that it’s not going to fit.’

But it did and it fit perfectly and looked perfect right there on Alex’s hand.

Alex Danvers had said yes.

Alex Danvers was going to be her wife.

Alex Danvers was going to be there, always.

The realization hit her as they embraced, happy tears falling as she held her wife-to-be tight, no intention of ever letting go.

After a few moments, Alex broke the comfortable silence, whispering, ‘I’m still pretty new to this whole gay thing. Do I need to get you an engagement ring too?’

God, she was adorable. Maggie laughed. ‘That ring on your finger is more than enough.’

And it was. It truly was.

After all this time, Maggie Sawyer was happy.


Send me Sanvers/Supercorp prompts

Companions React #3

I’m off to work. But until my longer “Companions React” is edited and posted later today, I wrote up this real quick for fun. Enjoy! :)


Companions react to Rule 34.


Nick:  Goodness.  Is that me? I don’t even have genitals.

Hancock:  I like it.  Let the ladies fantasize.

Nick:  Or the men, apparently.

Hancock:  Men, women, whichever.

Nick:  Or, uh … apparently us.

Hancock:  Huh?

Cait:  (Laughs hysterically)  Holy shit, I never knew you were so close!

Hancock:  Whaddaya mean?  Let me see!  Let me see! Oh, God.  Is that me, with Nick?

Nick:  I think it’s supposed to be.

Hancock:  Well, damn.  (Smiles proudly)  Gotta give it to ‘em, it’s pretty hot.

Cait:  Speak for yourself.  Look at that one!

Hancock:  Is that you, freckles?  Ha, ha, ha!  What’re ya wearin’?

Cait:  I think it’s me corset.

Deacon: (Snickers)  Or what’s left of it.

Cait:  Oh, you think this is funny, do ya?  Let’s see how funny ya find it when you’re on the receivin’ end.  Move it, trash bin!

Deacon:  Hello!

Cait:  Oh, please.  Your abs are not that big.  (Grins) Nothin’ ya have is that big.

Deacon:  Ouch.  Can’t let a guy enjoy his fame for a bit before knockin’ him down?

Cait:  Not a chance.  What’s that between your legs?

Deacon:  I think it’s a– oh, that’s funny.  It looks like a train.  Heh, heh!  Get it?

Cait:  Yeah, we get it.  We all get it.  (Clicks new page)  Well there’s somethin’ nice.

Hancock:  Ha!  Looks like your gettin’ that threesome you’ve always wanted with Piper.

Piper:  What?  Oh. My.  God.  Get rid of it!

Cait:  Why?  I kinda like it.

Piper:  Of course you do!  And why is– oh, God.  Why are there so many of me?

Deacon: (Shrugs)  'Cause you’re a pretty girl?

Piper:  On a normal day I might find that flattering, but under the circumstances I– uhh, how would I even get into that position?

Hancock:  I’d be glad to show ya.

Piper:  Never gonna happen.

Hancock:  Calm down, I’m just playin’.

Piper:  Charming.

MacCready:  What’s a 'cinnamon roll’?

Piper:  What?

MacCready:  I see it there, by my name.

Piper:  It’s a pastry, isn’t it?

Deacon:  I don’t think that’s what it is in this context.

MacCready: Whatever.  Click my images.  I’m … curious.

Cait:  Bwahahaha!!!!

Deacon:  I didn’t know you could do that with a mutfruit!

MacCready:  One time, I made that joke.  One time!

Nick:  I guess that’s all it took.  These people are dedicated.

MacCready:  I’ll say, look at that.  They even added soldier boy, over here.

Danse:  That is not proper Brotherhood attire.

Nick:  I think they know, Danse.  And I don’t think they care.

Cait:  Look at that!  They even have that prick Maxson!  And mostly coupled with you!

Danse:  Close it!  I will not be privy to this!

Cait:  Oh, yeah, as if you’re hatin’ it.  I’d say they got it bang on.

Danse:  Damn it!  I said get rid of it!

Curie:  What are we all looking at?

(Group goes silent)

Hancock:  Take a look.

Nick:  Hancock, no!

Curie:  Oh, mon Dieu!

Nick:  Get outta here, Hancock!  Sorry, Curie.  You okay? I guess that was kind of a shock, huh?

Curie:  On the contrary, monsieur Nick.  I find it quite fascinating.  Human sexuality has always been an area of interest for me.

Hancock: (Grins)  Good to know.

Piper:  Oh, stop it.

Hancock: (Shrugs)  What?

Strong:  Why humans being so loud?!

(Group flinches and stares at Strong)

MacCready:  Y-you don’t think … that … they’d?  They wouldn’t a-actually–?

Nick: (Searches)  My, God….

Piper:  Okay.  I think that’s enough of that.

Nick:  That’s … definitely more than I expected.

Hancock:  Hey.  To each his own, right?

Curie:  Who wouldn’t be a little curious?

Piper:  Please, Nicky.  I really don’t want to look at it.  I think I’ve been scarred enough tonight.

Cait:  Just look away, then.

Piper:  Where?  There’s nowhere left to look!

Strong:  Stupid humans.  Waste of time.  Strong leaving.

Codsworth:  And I’m coming in.  I must know what all the commotion is about.  Need I remind you that Sole is trying to sleep?

X6-88:  This unit is correct.  You are disturbing the peace.

(Group exchanges looks)

Hancock:  Well, we’ve come this far.

Cait:  Why not?  Give it a try.

Codsworth:  Oh my!  What … what is this?!

Cait:  Can ya actually do that?

Codsworth:  Of course I can’t!

Cait:  …Not even with an upgrade?

Codsworth:  Madam!

Piper:  Knock it off, Cait.

Cait:  I was only curious.

Hancock:  Can’t say I’m not.

X6-88:  You people really are the lowest of the low.

Hancock:  You should join us.  It’s fun down here.

Cait:  Do the courser!  Do the courser!

X6-88:  No.  Refrain from that search.

Cait:  Aw, come on.  I wanna see!  It’d only be fair at this point.

Nick:  All right….

X6-88:  Unacceptable.

Cait:  There’s only one of you.

X6-88:  That’s one too many.

Codsworth:  There are several of me.  Oh, the humility….

Cait:  Don’t act like you’re not flattered.

Codsworth:  Well, it is nice to be included, at least.

MacCready:  I still can’t get over all the Nick x Hancock pics.

Nick:  Me neither.  There’s more of us together than with Sole.

Dogmeat:  (Sniffs the keyboard)  Rruff!!

Nick:  Don’t worry, boy.  (Types in name)  I doubt there’s anything on here with y–  I stand corrected.

Piper:  Are you serious?!

Nick:  (Swiftly clicks backspace)  Never look.

Piper:  I-I won’t.

Deacon: (Squints)  What’s that off to the side?

Nick:  I don’t know.  I can’t quite make out the image.

Hancock:  Click it!  Click it!

(Whole group goes pale and silent)

Codsworth:  My word….

Piper:  Is … is that a–?

Deacon:  Jesus.  I can’t … Jesus!

MacCready:  Maybe we’re not seeing it right.  Maybe it’s a trick.  A-a joke of some kind.  Click another one.

(Whole group cringes and pulls away)

X6-88:  …I think I’m finished here.

Piper:  Yep.  Me too.

Nick:  For once, I agree with the Institute’s lapdog.

Hancock:  Yeah, that’s pretty wild.  Even for me.

Curie:  I do not even think that’s physically possible.

Cait:  Not with that attitude.

Piper:  Need to work on your humour, Cait.

Deacon:  Meh, it’s kinda funny.  But I’m still gonna turn in.

Nick:  Yeah.  It’s time.

MacCready:  Hey, let’s all agree to never let Sole see these.

<The whole group agrees, going their separate ways.  As the room empties, Preston climbs up from under the desk, taking a seat in the computer chair.>

Preston:  Ugh, what’s this?!  Deathclaw porn?!  My goodness.  (Opens new search bar)  Preston. Garvey.

Screen:  Zero results.

Preston:  T_T

36 Part 3 (Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader)

A/N: Well here it is! This part was a lot longer than I was expecting it to be but I’m super excited for everyone to read it :) If you have any feedback or more requests, please let me know! :) I will try to get through more writing but with school picking up I make no promises, except to do my best :)

Part 1  Part 2 

Masterlist


After you had left, Lin looked at the time to see that it was barely 6:30am. Not knowing what else to do, he hopped in the shower to try and clear his foggy mind. A few hours ago he was certain that he had ruined everything. He had wanted to call you immediately and apologize, knowing that it would be more effective than running out after you and trying to find you by sheer will. It was then that he had noticed that you had left your phone behind, and there was no way to contact you. Lin panicked, and he prayed with everything he had that you wouldn’t get hurt. Well, more hurt than what he had already caused.

He mentally kicked himself for not realizing sooner what he was doing. Of course this musical was incredibly important to him, and Alex and Tommy were getting on his case now more than ever to finish writing, but he had let you slip through his fingers as a result. He had neglected you, and you had blamed yourself. He couldn’t help but remember your last words to him before you left.

“Well then please forgive me for wanting to be enough for my husband.”

In his eyes, you were more than enough. God you were everything. But his ignorance had made you believe that you weren’t as incredible as he knew you were.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Imagine sparring with Tommy and catching him off guard with a unique strike combo you've been practicing without him.

- “Come on geliefde, I know you have more than that. You’re not trying hard enough.”
- God you hated Aleister sometimes. He was the gentlest man you had ever met, despite his appearance, but when it came to training, he was a brutal taskmaster.
- you’d met him a couple of days after his debut on NXT, on a painfully early morning at the performance center
- you thought you were the only one in the performance center and you were just wailing on one of the punching bags
- “Bring your hips more into the kick. You’ll get more power that way.”
- The soft, accented voice from behind you almost sent you out of your skin
- You took Aleister’s advice and you preened at the sound of your shin making contact with the bag and the satisfying way it swayed
- Then he’d offered to be your sparring partner and the rest was history
- and here you both were, two hours into a sparring session with barely a water break, long after the rest of the trainees had left
- you were frustrated understandably, paired with being uncomfortably sweaty, while Aleister seemed to be nonplussed.
- so you decided to take it out on him
- you feigned a leg sweep, to pirouette into a sharp elbow to Aleister’s solar plexus, then a jumping knee to the stunned man’s jaw
- Aleister went down to the mat, and you were quick to straddle his waist and pin his wrists by his head
- “Hah! Got you!”
- The large tattooed man between your thighs blinked, his eyes glazed and heated
- That’s when you realized your position, his bare navel flush with your core and a firm bulge pressing against your bum, and your ears went pink, but you didn’t loosen your grip on his wrists
- “I think I love you.”