hairbreadth

3 Things

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader
Rating: Explicit
Genre: fluff and smutsmutsmut
Word count: 4,312

A/N: For anon, I hope you like it 💕 I think I’m getting better at writing smut?? Maybe??

Originally posted by bangtanboysloves

Your yawn drowns out the faint sounds of the TV, head lolling to the side as you stare blankly at the screen. It was well past eleven thirty – well past your bedtime – and you’re struggling to keep yourself upright and alert.

Jimin texted you around ten, letting you know that his shift at the convenience store was going to drag on a bit longer than expected, and that he wasn’t totally sure when he’d be headed home. He advised you not to wait up but of course, when did you ever really listen.

Both you and Jimin were full time students, juggling dead end jobs, homework and nearly non-existent social lives. Busy was an understatement for both of your lives and as a result you two rarely got to spend much time together. The only time you two really got was when you both settled down to sleep at night. No matter how dead tired either (or both) of you were, when you were curled up in each other’s arms at the end of a long day, you would quietly talk about the events that had happened or catch each other up on the episode of a drama the other had missed that week.

Which was why you were being so stubborn about going to bed without him; not feeling quite right about sliding under those blankets without his cold feet there to press against your calves.

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The Perfect Way is only difficult for those who pick and choose;
Do not like, do not dislike; all will then be clear.
Make a hairbreadth difference, and Heaven and Earth are set apart;
If you want the truth to stand clear before you, never be for or against.
The struggle between ‘for’ and 'against’ is the mind’s worst disease
—  Sengcan

grigori-girl  asked:

yeah can I get a fuckin uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh #6 w/ bokuroo

me: BOKUROO KISS MACHINE IN PERFECT ORDER


Kuroo does not like mornings. Kenma knows this. Yaku knows this. Anyone who has ever heard the name ‘Kuroo Tetsurou’ even in passing knows this. 

But most of all, Bokuto knows this. 

He hears the alarm goes off. Barely registers it, stirring slightly in his sleep, but Bokuto does hear it. Also hears (with much relief) its silencing. 

He’s almost completely back to sleep when he notices the problem. There is too much silence. 

“Work,” Bokuto mumbles, its slurred and spoken more into the pillow under his head than anything but he knows he hears it. 

Bokuto knows he hears it cause he wouldn’t sleep that ridiculous fucking way and his hair wouldn’t be such a mess if he didn’t virtually hear everything in this world. 

So he says it again, a little bit clearer this time. A little bit sterner too. “Tetsu…” pauses, yawns, starts again with eyes still closed. “gotta go to work.” 

Kuroo mumbles this time. Digging his face into the pillow even further to avoid the morning light coming through the blinds. “-on’t wanna,” he says, sounding like a child rather than a mature adult.

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anonymous asked:

“Your eyes are like the stars.” please!

purple prose ahoy!



“You come here with the moon—”

The room is gauzy, dark, lit only by the dim radiance of orbs bobbing gently around the chamber, swept in some unseen current. The priest should be impossible to see, but his skin glows—his eyes, sparks of green in the sea of black.

Thor licks his lips. “I come for your blessing.”

A low chuckle rumbles. Loki’s laughter is both cruel and teasing. “Nightly,” he says. He catches a finger on one of the thin, transparent lengths of fabric that hang from the ceiling, with seemingly no other purpose than to befuddle Thor. But his own bedroom is bare, spartan.

“I am but a man,” Thor replies. “I err daily.”

Loki tips his head in acknowledgment. He is a priest of the old gods, whose masters demand tributes of potent liquids—wine, blood, semen—and Thor has spilled much of all three in his service as King. The gods must be truly pleased with him, or their servant would not bend so easily under his body.

With a graceful sweep of his arm, Loki brushes away the fabric. His eyes are like stars in the night sky of this chamber, too bright to be anything but the design of the gods. Slowly, Loki makes his way to Thor, and Thor’s muscles leap with the effort to keep still. This is part of the ritual—he must not touch Loki until Loki deigns to grant him blessing.

But Loki is so beautiful. Bare from the hips up, his chest is strong, and his shoulders broad, yet the thin sheaf of green silk around his waist lends Loki an almost feminine softness. This touch of sensuality is intoxicating.

Loki stops a hairbreadth away. Thor’s regulated breathing turns harsh, ragged, because he wants more than anything—more than his throne, more than the warstorm in his blood, more than life itself—to grab Loki and the priest clearly knows this: his lips bend into a harsh smirk.

Patience, Thor wills. Patience, like in a sword fight, waiting for the opponent to blunder.

Patience, he pleads, as Loki tilts his face upwards, their lips so close Thor can feel Loki’s breath, smell the mint from the leaves he chews after dinner.

Patience, he begs, resolve cracking, because Loki’s not moving, refusing to move, just holding himself still so the heat of his body radiates onto Thor’s skin. A touch, in all ways but the one Thor must have.

“How long could I make you wait like this?” Loki whispers, delighted. “Dear, sweet brother…”

Because even though Loki is arguably the most powerful man in the kingdom—in any region that worships the olden ways—he is, and always will be, bitter that he was forced into studying the gods while Thor was slated for the throne.

“Until the stars burn from the sky,” Thor replies, because no other answer would ever satisfy Loki.

Victory tastes like mint, as Loki molds his mouth to his brother’s, finally granting Thor permission to have his blessing, to spill his seed in the living body of the gods, to offer his eternal worship to this divine avatar.

And he offers, as he does every night, silent gratitude for the gods allowing him to know his own brother in such a sinful way.

But to be a man is to sin, thus Thor will have to seek his brother out tomorrow night, and the next, and the next…



did you enjoy this? be sure to check out my other fics here!

jennagill  asked:

How about a Friday peek at Chapter 8 of Quicksilver? Pretty please!

I am truly embarrassed by how little of Chapter 8 I’ve written, but because you asked so nicely and happen to be one of my favorite people <3…


“Please help me. I don’t know what to do.”

“You should find someone else. Hawthorne’s made it very clear that we’re not to be together.”

“I don’t belong to Hawthorne.” She threaded her fingers through his. “And I don’t care what he says. Peeta, please.”

He studied their entwined hands for a long moment, and slowly, hesitantly brought her hand to his lips. His eyes met hers, and Peeta paused, waiting for permission. She could feel the warmth of his breath through the thin fabric of her glove, and her breath caught when he kissed the back of her hand. Her heart raced, and his eyes on her burned with a promise of far, far more. All too soon, he moved his lips away. “You have a plan?”

It took her a moment to remember how to speak. “The beginnings of one.” The words came out breathless, and he was smirking at her, and Katniss couldn’t bear being at such a disadvantage. She shifted her hand in his and kissed his palm. The change in his breath, the way his lips opened in a silent oh, it made her feel powerful and exhilarated all at once, and she allowed her lips to linger a hairbreadth from his skin after she broke the embrace. “It could change, though,” she continued. “I’m open to suggestions.”

‘It’s my first home out of college and I’m not a prude but you seem to let a LOT of people sleep over and you seem to know that I kinda want to be one of them (or the only one..)’ AU

someone sent like 5 suggestions in one ask so I’ll just post them as text posts rather than answers:


This was awesome. This was great. This was the beginning of everything, the beginning of his life and his road to self-discovery. College.

At first he had been nervous about moving into a dorm and being on his own. He wasn’t sure he would have the bravery to get through the day on his own, without his mom encouraging him and reminding him to do things like change out of his sleepwear and shower.

But a week had gone by and he felt great. His roommate was pretty nice. There was a routine and the neighboring dorms were pretty relaxed about everything.

In fact one seemed a little too relaxed. He lived across from Will, and he only knew his name was either Jason or Nico. It was a guy with messy black hair and black clothes, the kind of guy that seemed to like alternative rock or something. The kind of guy Will had only seen on movies.

In the last week, Will had left his dorm three separate mornings to see three different guys walking out of the dorm aside from the blond guy that was either Nico or Jason. And each time they left, Will saw the dark haired boy staring after them with a smirk before going back into his dorm.

The next week, as Will fell into the routine more comfortably, he noticed the same thing. This time it was only two boys.

That weekend, he asked his roommate, Austin, about the boy across the hall. “You’re an upperclassman, do you know him?”

“No, he’s a freshman I think. I can’t be sure, the campus is big. He might have been here last year, he might not have been. Why?” he asked as he cleaned out his sax.

Will shrugged and looked at their door. “I keep seeing guys leaving his room in the morning, but they’re not his roommate.”

“Maybe he likes sleepovers,” Austin suggested. “Maybe he’s gay and fucks their brains out, I don’t know, Will, it’s college. People do whatever they want because there’s no supervision.” Will gulped at such a crude statement. “Why don’t you just ask? Trust me it won’t be the weirdest encounter the guy has here.”

Will shook his head. “No. I mean it’s none of my business, I’m just curious.” Austin raised an eyebrow at him. “What? It’s my first year away from home, seeing that is strange to me.”

“Right,” Austin muttered before returning to his sax.

The next day as Will was locking his dorm to leave, he heard the door behind him open. He looked over his shoulder and saw a green eyed teenager with a strange expression on his face leaving the room followed by Jason or Nico staring after him. Before he went inside, his dark brown eyes flickered to Will and one eyebrow went up. “Yes?”

“What? Nothing,” Will said, trying to pull his key out quickly. But instead it got stuck. “Shit,” he muttered. He turned and jimmied the knob, trying to loosen the key, but he was aware of the fact that the door behind him hadn’t closed yet.

Suddenly, someone was standing beside him and an olive toned hand reached out to the knob. “Here, hold on,” Jason/Nico said. He turned the knob and then the key, then slid it out smoothly. He handed Will the key and smirked.

“Uh, thanks.” His eyebrows went up and down in acknowledgement and he smiled mischievously. “I… have to get to class.”

“Have fun,” he answered easily. “See you around, neighbor.” He turned around and went back to his dorm. Before shutting the door, his eyes shifted to Will again. “I’m Nico by the way.”

He gulped then said, “I’m Will.”

Nico’s lips puckered slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “Cool,” he said. Then he closed the door.

Will wasn’t sure what to make of that. He pushed the encounter to the back of his mind and went to class. Later in the night, after studying in the library, he went back to his dorm. He saw Austin hunched over a text book at his desk. “So… Nico talked to me today,” he said. “He had another dude leaving his dorm and he caught me looking.”

“Did you ask why the guy had spent the night?”

“No.”

“Then what are you telling me that for?” Will didn’t answer and Austin looked up at him. “Dude, you’re obviously not going to rest until you find out what that guy does with the people spending the night.”

“I mean, what can he do?” Will said. “He has a roommate, and I don’t care how close they might be, I’m positive he wouldn’t have sex with someone with his roommate right there.” He glanced at Austin who was looking at him with a bored expression. “I mean, you wouldn’t do that right?”

“No, trust me,” he said. Then he shrugged. “You never know, they might have some freaky threesome deal.” Will grimaced and Austin laughed. “Will, dude, it’s college. You do stupid shit.” There was a knock on the door and Will turned to open it. He saw Nico with a black shirt that had white block letters forming a single word: SHIT. “Oh that’s too perfect,” Austin laughed.

“Huh?” Nico questioned. “Whatever. Will, right? I need some ear plugs for my roommate, he’s being a bit of a jackass right now. Do you have any?”

Will shook his head mutely. “I do,” Austin said. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a pack of ear plug. “Helps when I’m with the band,” he explained when he saw Will’s expression.

“Thanks, you’re a pal. Leo, I got them!” he called over his shoulder. “Tell Jason to stop whining.” He turned to face Will. “Ciao.”

“Wait, I thought you couldn’t have visitors past midnight on week days,” Will reminded him.

Nico smirked. “Yeah, of the opposite sex.” He winked and turned away.

Will watched him leave and shut the door to his own dorm before Will closed his. He turned to look at Austin who was stifling a laugh. “Or maybe he makes his roommate wear earplugs while he fucks guys senseless.” Will grimaced and Austin held out his hand. “I have a lot more.” Will realized they were ear plugs.

“Oh, whatever,” Will said, rolling his eyes.

It would have been a lie to say he didn’t stay up listening for any kind of sexual sound through the thin walls. But he didn’t hear any as he fell asleep.

The next day, he didn’t have any classes, and he stayed in his dorm while Austin left to practice. It wasn’t until a little past four that a knock came at his door again. He answered it without thinking, his brain still reeling with the latest episode of Law and Order: SVU. Then he realized Nico was standing at his door again.

“Hey neighbor,” he said cheekily, chewing a piece of gum.

“Hi,” Will said warily.

“So… a little birdie told me you wanted to know why so many guys stay at my room overnight.” Will felt blood rush to his face and began to stammer, much to Nico’s amusement. “Hey it’s cool, people get curious. You want to know?” Will didn’t answer but stared at him as though he’d been caught doing something bad. “I’m not mad, relax.”

“Look, you don’t have to tell me anything, really. Austin just likes poking fun at me, really. It just…. Really, it’s none of my business.”

“Aw, come on,” Nico crooned, stepping closer. “I can show you.” Will gulped and as he looked at Nico, he wasn’t sure what his expression was. His heart was pounding and his limbs felt like jelly. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had that effect on him. “Come on,” Nico prodded again, pulling him gently by his arm.

He obliged and followed Nico to his dorm. “Close your eyes,” he whispered in his ear. Will noticed his roommate was gone. “Go ahead,” he murmured. Will shut his eyes, feeling his body heat rise. Nico pushed him gently until his legs hit the railing of the bed. “Get on,” he encouraged. Will did. It only took a slight jump to get onto the elevate bed. He sat and gulped, keeping his eyes shut.

He heard the bed creak beside him and it moved as though someone were getting on. He felt Nico at his back and let out a shaky breath. His arms came around him.

Then there was something in his lap. “Open your eyes.”

Will did. He looked down and saw a laptop with the Netflix website pulled up. Nico burst into laughter behind him. “I’m confused,” Will said dumbly.

Nico pulled away the laptop and sat beside him, letting his legs dangle. “Last night, Leo came over and we sort of started watching horror films. Jason wanted to go to sleep, so we gave him earplugs so he wouldn’t hear the movie or us freaking out.

“Another guy, the one from the day your key fucked up, that was Percy. He had an argument with his girlfriend and needed our help. It got late and he lives in an apartment complex off campus so we let him crash here.

“Another guy was from a party. He was stupid drunk and I didn’t trust him to drive. He tried to make a move on me, but I don’t do the whole drunk-make-out thing. Another was a friend from class who stayed to listen to basically all of my CD’s and talk about his problems back home. There was one I got to make out with, but he wasn’t a very good kisser.” He shrugged and looked at Will who felt completely lost.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Will muttered. Nico laughed and nudged him with his shoulder.

He turned to look at him and found his brown eyes focused on him, that mischievous smirk tugging at his full lips. Will forced his eyes back to Nico’s, but they quickly darted down to his lips again. Slowly, so torturously slowly, Nico started to lean in, and Will did too.

A surprisingly hesitant hand came up to Will’s face when Nico was just a hairbreadth away. And then his lips. Will shut his eyes and kissed him slowly, feeling little electric currents course through his body and the shudder of his breath as the warmth of someone else’s lips settled over his.

Nico bit his lip gently before tilting his head and continuing to kiss him. Then suddenly, he pulled away and they both looked away from each other with suppressed embarrassed smiles. Slowly, they turned to look at each other and laughed softly, smiling at each other.

Will cleared his throat. “Well, I hope I was better than that one guy.”

“Way better,” Nico answered, smiling. “But… just to be sure,” he whispered as he leaned in again.

Fic: Where you are, I will be (and anywhere in between) (The Vampire Diaries; Stefan/Caroline)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Caroline Forbes/Stefan Salvatore

Summary: “Is that a yes?” she asks, breathless when she finally pulls away. “Yes, Caroline,” he grins, “That’s a yes.”

Author’s Note: Like what? What is this? Me coming out of Steroline hibernation after nine months all because of a glimpse of a #JuneWeddingInParis? Yeah, apparently that’s all it took. I haven’t written in ages. Clearly. But here, have a fic full of fluff to make up for it. Enjoy! (Title from Zella Day’s Compass)

—–

He’s half asleep when she says it.

With the morning sun slipping through the gap in the curtains, casting a soft, hazy glow about the room, warming the parts of his skin not entwined with hers, he can’t be blamed for wanting to linger in the moment a little longer.

But Caroline. Oh Caroline.

She never could rest idly, let a perfectly good day waste away.

“You know I’ve been thinking …” she starts off.

His lips curve into a smile, inching into his pillow, “Mmm, about?”

“Paris.”

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Tailgating -- A Snowbaz Oneshot

Baz drummed his fingers on the steering week and huffed as traffic again slowed to a stop. He had to be at a job interview at 2:00, and he was rather anxious to be there on time. It wouldn’t do to keep a prospective employer waiting.

He tapped the gas and crept closer to the back of the car in front of him: a little blue minivan that looked like it had seen better days. As the car inched forward, Baz followed, so close that their bumpers were a hairbreadth away from touching. He had always been a bad tailgater–to Fiona’s extreme annoyance–but saw no other way to subtly hint to the car in front of him to move faster already

Suddenly the minivan began to roll forward at a nice, steady speed. Traffic must be flowing now. Baz shot forward, anxious to get as far ahead as he possibly could without–

Thud.

Oh shit.

The blue minivan had stopped abruptly again, and before Baz had time to react, the front of his car was nicely smashed into the minivan’s rear bumper. Shit, shit, shit. Fiona would explode when she found out. And now Baz would almost certainly miss his job interview.

As soon as the two cars pulled to the curb, out of the way of traffic, Baz threw open the side door of his car, letting it scrape loudly against the curb. He really didn’t care at this point, though. He was too angry. Baz stepped onto the sidewalk, ready to throttle whoever it was that–

…oh.

Oh.

Sirens. and. serpents.

Baz blinked dumbly for a moment, then cleared his throat in an attempt to get his voice back.

Two people had stepped out of the minivan–one was an Indian girl with an intelligent face and pointy glasses. The Other–presumably the driver–was leaning, stricken, against his car, looking like he was could start crying at any moment.

And by all that’s good and beautiful, he had the most gorgeous mop of bronze curls and huge blue eyes that Baz had ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” Baz ventured. The girl was taking the boy by the shoulders now, telling him that it was going to be fine, we can get it fixed, it’s not your fault. Baz winced a little–jealous. For no good reason, of course, but still. Undeniably jealous.

“Hi,” the girl stepped toward him and stuck out her hand for Baz to shake, “I’m Penny, and that’s Simon. He just got his license three days ago, so this was a little traumatic for him. You’ll have to excuse him.” She narrowed her eyes at Baz, then turned back to the golden boy, who was now quietly sobbing into his hands. “Simon, you’ll have to exchange names and insurance providers before we can call a tow truck. That way we can get the money matters smoothed over.”

Simon looked up. His eyes were wet and a few stray tears stuck to his lashes. Something caught in Baz’s throat. 

“I’m sorry,” he heard himself say. “Don’t worry about it, Simon. It’ll be fine. I’m sure your insurance will cover it, no need to cry like that.” 

Simon nodded, staring at him with those stupidly blue eyes.

Suddenly, Baz stepped forward and gathered the other boy into a protective hug. What the hell, Baz? He usually wasn’t this open with strangers. Let alone strangers he’d just hit with his car. “It’s my fault, so I’ll have to pay for it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Surprisingly, Simon melted into his arms and buried his face in Baz’s shoulder.

“Well,” Baz heard Penny say after a few moments, “you may want to exchange numbers as well, then.” 


Cas and Dean are nineteen, living together in an apartment in the city. It is nighttime. Cas can hear the occasional car go by on the road below. Even the rumble of its engines sounds sleepy.

He is in bed, reading a poetry book.  Their bedroom has a golden glow to it, with their bedside lamp on. When Cas had originally gotten into bed, he had been upright. Now he is mostly lying down, with the pillows all squashed but in perfect alignment with his head.

Dean had joined him under the covers about twenty minutes ago. Fresh out of the shower— hair damp and skin pink— he had pulled back the duvet, crawled and then settled in without even saying good night. For the first few minutes, Cas’ boyfriend had kept to his respective side of the queen-sized bed that hardly provided space for the two not-so-small men.

But then somehow Dean had ended up somewhat glued to Cas’ side. One of his legs wedges in between Cas’ knees and an arm has been draped over his midsection. Smacking his lips, Dean had wormed his head into the crook of Cas’ arm— with his head resting on Cas’ chest.

Cas is still reeling by the fact Dean had accomplished all of this completely asleep.

Dead to the world, as Dean would have said. 

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Eloign

My eyes have once again been proven wrong. Your clouds, your blanket and my pity song, hovering on your front lawn. Carry on until it’s gone—Passion Pit (Swimming in the Flood)

A good pop song is playing. Something electronic, something pounding, something with brass and bass that rolls like rain clouds down the shaded side of a cliff.

Sunshine whips like honey against your face, humid and lingering, kissing the curls in your hair and caressing the smile on your lips. Crevice between your eyebrows, a wrinkle in time. The top of your car is down and driving through an empty desert feels like running through a thunderstorm, barefoot.

You’re in the middle of the Mojave Desert, somewhere between California and Nevada, and on your way to a convention down in Las Vegas. Another conference for the world’s most durable brand of duct tape—or something like that. You weren’t paying attention.

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6

“The last scene was informed a bit by screwball comedies. Cait picked up on that in the way she’s pacing around. It was the idea that she should be painted into a corner with absolutely no way out, then to put it in such a beautiful environment as well. That wasn’t to do with making it feel romantic. It was the juxtaposition. It was what we were seeing and what she was feeling. Again, it was the notion that all that she had been through and the idea of escape was a hairbreadth away.”

—Brian Kelly on Claire’s reaction to being wed to Jamie

The Making of Outlander: The Series: The Official Guide to Seasons One & Two 

primal instinct

A Clexa one-shot, based on a scene from Jurassic World


“You made a new dinosaur?”

From the way Lexa was staring at her, Clarke almost repeated herself, because the brunette didn’t react, not even so much as a twitch of the mouth or narrowing of the eyes. The director of Jurassic World just stood staring, wordlessly, ever her stoic self, with her pristine, daringly white linen pants and blouse, making Clarke’s grease-streaked cargo shorts and green tank top seem more ratty than usual.

Why?” Clarke continued, turning a wrench over and over in her hand, the other resting on the padded seat of her ancient motorbike. She felt antsy, unsettled, because even after all this time and all of her experience in the field, the idea of producing dinosaurs in general was wild, but creating one—that was a whole other level of crazy.

“Innovation,” Lexa spoke finally, authority lacing every note of her rich voice.

Clarke scoffed, shooting up from her stool and walking towards the other girl. “Innovation? More like investment—how much revenue is this ‘attraction’ supposed to bring in? Enough for a raise in your salary, I’d bet.”

As soon as she finished, she almost smiled, because the disdain she had let into her tone had finally gotten a reaction out of Lexa—just the smallest disapproving purse of the lips, but it was there nonetheless.

“It’s the next phase in the park’s development. Surely you were aware, given your connections with Emerson.”

Clarke scowled at the name of the greedy military consultant who had once again barged in on her demonstration with the raptors this morning, spouting all sorts of nonsense about how the animals she worked with—bonded with, cared for, loved—were just weapons to be used at the government’s discretion.

Bull. Shit.

One look in her charges’ reptilian eyes and anybody with a brain would know you can’t tame the beast, only direct its attention elsewhere and hope it never fixed its sights on you.

“So you’re on board with Emerson? Cold, Lexa, even for you,” Clarke spat, turning away and jogging up the stairs of her porch. When she turned around, bracing her hands tightly on the wooden railing, she noticed Lexa staring at her open front door, through which you could see just barely the corner of her unmade bed.

“You wanna see inside?” Clarke prodded slyly, gathering her hair up at the back of her neck to twist it into a bun. She was feeling riled up by the brunette’s very presence, not liking that fact one bit, and looking to return the favor. “I didn’t get to give you the tour the last time you were here. Left in a bit of a rush, you did.”

Lexa—the unflappable Lexa—actually blushed, a flustered energy rising off of her in the muggy afternoon air. Her voice was hard, critical though when she replied, “You made it very clear what you thought of me that night. I didn’t feel the need to stick around.”

“You should’ve taken that tequila shot with me at the bar. Would’ve relaxed you a bit.”

“I don’t like tequila.”

Who doesn’t like tequila? Clarke thought indignantly before her mouth ran away from her and she said, “You liked it when you tasted it on my lips, if I recall our drive home correctly.”

The grin forming on her face—because she was feeling clever and smug, goddamn it—fell when Lexa’s green eyes darkened, her face pinching in anger.

“If you can’t be professional about this, then I have other consultants I can use—”

“Sorry,” Clarke muttered, wincing as she remembered the way the kiss had ended: not pleasantly, to say the least. They were both good with words, even better at turning them into weapons, and some innocent teasing had turned bloody, ensuring that their first date had also been their last. Feeling the slightest tinge of regret for teasing Lexa, she added, “What do you need me to do?”

“Inspect the paddock, make sure it’s secure. Take a look at the asset too—”

“Asset?” Clarke snorted.

Her interruption earned a sharp glare and another purse of the lips from Lexa. “Yes, asset. This is a business, not a petting zoo.”

“They are animals, Lexa—living, breathing things,” Clarke argued, her cheeks flaring with emotion again, thinking of Blue and the way the animal’s intelligence blew her away, every single time. She bounded down the porch steps, advancing on the woman who was technically her boss, not caring if she was overstepping her bounds. “They’re alive, have thoughts, feelings—they aren’t some stocks or dollar bills. They get hungry, feel threatened—” Clarke paused for just a second, a hairbreadth away from Lexa, who had somehow been backed up against the porch railing by her movements. Clarke read the annoyance in Lexa’s eyes, and just as quick as an intake of breath (because damn Lexa’s buttons were easy to push today) her tone turned teasing again as she finished, “have the urge to–you know, get it on.”

Clarke flicked her eyes up and down Lexa’s figure, causing the brunette to swallow thickly. A flicker of uneasiness flared in Clarke’s chest, because suddenly her breathing was coming in a bit shallower, and she was so close

Suddenly Clarke stepped back, putting space between her and Lexa, a nervous energy overtaking her. Lexa herself showed a flash of relief, before her face settled into its usual unemotional expression.

“Can you meet me at the transport center in an hour?” Lexa asked.

Clarke nodded, words strangely beyond her at the moment, her throat too dry to let them pass through her chapped lips.

She watched Lexa stride back to her jeep, steady and confident, wondering if the unsettling feeling lodged low in her stomach was present in the other woman too.

It wasn’t until forty minutes later, when Clarke was wiping her hands of grease and dirt, getting ready to meet with Lexa, that she realized the woman had asked, not ordered, Clarke to meet her later.

With a smug grin, Clarke climbed onto her bike, because Lexa never asked for anything, ever.

This is going to be fun, she thought gleefully, revving the engine before speeding down the dirt path, losing herself among the otherworldly flora as she headed off to see what beast was terror-inducing enough to make the formidable Lexa come to Clarke Griffin for help.  

thedenimofrose  asked:

Hi! :) Possible prompt: Caroline and Klaus are mates, who didn't choose each other and for Caroline, never would have in a million years. Yet, there is an undeniable pull between them (like in canon). This is their first night together as mates. May I have bonding and feels, and smut please?

Lea’s response:

Caroline loved almost everything about being a werewolf. She loved the strength, she loved the agility. She loved being in her wolf form and running through the forest. Being a werewolf was a pretty sweet deal in every way except one – the mating.

The way other werewolves talked about it, the mating was supposed to be the singular (best) moment of a wolf’s life. That moment when you laid eyes on the person who was supposed to be the other half of your soul was like becoming whole when you hadn’t even realized you’d been living half a life - like everything you hadn’t known you needed clicked into place. That’s how most werewolves talked about it, but Caroline had never been like most werewolves. The very idea of mating was anathema to her. Everything about it sounded unsavory. Who the hell would want some chemical imbalance to decide their fate? Who wanted some random stranger to come into their life like a tornado and ruin everything? Caroline didn’t need someone to be the other half of her soul, she was a full person all on her own.

Running toward her house, Caroline was shifting back into human form as her mom came jogging down the back porch steps.

“You’re late.” Liz pointed out as she handed her daughter clothes.

Caroline pulled the sundress over her head as she responded. “For?”

Liz shot her daughter a pointed look and Caroline stared back impatiently before her look turned into one of remembrance and frustration.

“Ugh.” Caroline slapped a palm to her forehead. “Do we really have to do this?”

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“Wherever in the world I go, I can’t help but run into you,” Beca whispered, reaching for the other woman’s hand and entwining their fingers together. She stepped closer until their bodies were no more than a hairbreadth away from each other, the smell of cinnamon overwhelming her senses. She sighed. “I was never one to believe in fate or destiny or soulmates…or any of that cosmic crap. I’ve always believed that I controlled my own fate and I was in charge of my own goddamn destiny. Everything has always been up to me. My choice.” Beca paused, looking up and locking gazes with Luisa, a slow smile gracing her lips. “But hey, who am I to argue with the cosmos? You were always my choice anyway.”

Fic: We were built to fall apart (and back together) (The Vampire Diaries; Stefan/Caroline)

Fandom: The VampireDiaries

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: CarolineForbes/Stefan Salvatore

Summary: Fear is the first thing she feels in a long time. And it’s not for her. It’s for him.

Author’s Note: Post 6x15 fic, based on speculation for the next few episodes, but written before we got the flood of all those new spoilers/photos, so basically, probably way off, but I had fun writing this nevertheless. T. Swift is just the gift that keeps on giving. Title from Out of the Woods.

 

 

—–

 

 

It’s like she’s been standing on a sheet of ice this entire time.

Fragile, dangerous and unpredictable.

It’s no surprise really when it finally gives way without warning.

Tiny little knives carve into her skin as the cold hits everywhere all at once. The shock of it has her lips opening up in a gasp, and the water wastes no time in rushing in and flooding her lungs until she’s spluttering and can’t breathe.

It’s fear.

Fear is the first thing she feels in a long time.

And it’s not for her.

It’s for him.

He stands there in the corner, face half hidden in shadows. His eyes a dark blood red, veins spreading out like vines along his cheekbones and his lips twisted up in a stained smile.

The body drops to the floor like dead weight.

The smile doesn’t leave his lips as he casually wipes away the corners of his mouth with a thumb, wastes not a drop as he licks it away.

“Stefan,” she says, and she hates the way her voice wavers, “What have you done?”

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imagine alec getting really close to magnus one night, so close that they’re only a hairbreadth away from each other’s lips and they’re just breathing gently while magnus raises an eyebrow to convey his general feeling of ‘what are you doing?’ and alec smiles and says “i call this close talking” making magnus laugh and bump their lips together, ending up kissing each other by the end of it

dreamcatchersdaughter  asked:

I hope I am not bothering you.... but Imagine a flowercrown wearing Persephone Bucky following his Brother Steve Demeter around and growing tired and bored of being powerless and then stumbling on to Nerd Keeper of the Underworld Tony and is so enamored that he chooses to eat the Pomegranate (or plumbs ahahaha) and only spit half out and hearing the ire and screams of Steve (who mistakenly thinks Tony stole his best friend)

Not bothering me at all, my askbox is always open you’re fully welcome and encouraged to come by and throw headcanons at me. (I love it!!)

Tony was minding his own business, he was. Rhodey had promised to bring him some of Bruce’s latest formulas to work on, the droll of the Underworld could be mind-numbing at times, who was he kidding? All the time but at least he wasn’t completely cut off from the world like his brethren would hope. Anyway, Tony was waiting on Rhodey, minding his own business, taking a bit of a stroll when he essentially crashed into the love of his life. His still heart thumped so hard he thought it would break through his rib cage. 

Bucky, twin brother of the god of Harvest Steve, was sprawled over him, eyes wild and full of life, with petals from his wreath falling over Tony and his clothes. Just when Tony thinks the god is about to apologize, he throws him for a spin. “Take me on an adventure.”

“What?” He can’t be hearing right, he can’t possibly be…

“I said, take me on an adventure.” Bucky huffs, still over Tony with his pale eyes and his flower crown, that keeps on shedding all over Tony.

“Sweetheart, are you aware of who you are talking to? I’m the least adventurous god there is.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head. “I know of your clandestine correspondence with Bruce.”

Tony sputters, what, clandestine! What? “It’s not clandestine, you make it sound like we are having an affair!”

The other god stops short at that, “You mean you’re not?”

Tony shudders, Bruce is a fine looking god but not at all his type and vice versa. “What? No! We exchange knowledge and he keeps me updated of what happens above. And I tell him how I misuse Phlegethon for crafting and he berates him and swears he’ll tell Pepper and I reply that she already knows and then Rhodey gets involved and…”

“Ok, fine. I believe you.” Bucky laughs, because he finds it cute, The God-King of the Underworld is a babbler, who would have thought. “I still want you to take me on an adventure.”

Now is Tony’s time to huff, “And I told you, I dwell among the dead, not much adventure to be had.”

Bucky sits astride a top of Tony and pins him in place, logically he knows if Tony wanted to throw him off he could. If he was being honest, Bucky could do with a change of scenery, loved his twin, he did but being the powerless brother of the god of Harvest could be a tiring chore, he just wanted something different. “I don’t believe you but alright.”

With his arms to provide leverage Tony looked at the pout on the other god’s face. Thinking “Pepper will have my head.” as he sighed and gave in.

“I could give you a tour?”

Tony was bathed in petals a second later. “Are you serious? You’d show me the Underworld?”

Tony shrugs and Bucky’s on his feet and pulling him along. “Is not really that exciting.”

Bucky doesn’t seem to hear him or care as they get on Tony’s carriage and leave the world above.

The Underworld is a sight to behold, yes it was bleak and cold and dark but also it was immense with more than one river, endless halls and they had vegetation! In the Land of the Dead, things grew and blossomed, Tony was a very diligent tour guide. Even stopping to talk at length about whatever had caught Bucky’s eye.   

There was the 3 headed dog of his, each head had a name and according to Tony completely different personalities; DUM-E (“Overenthusiastic pain in the ass, thinks everyone was to play fetch.”), U (“More calm, but don’t let that fool you, is also a little shit.”) and Butterfingers (“Has two moods: Anger or Slobber, no in between. Is a hoarder.”) who bowed and let Bucky scratch them behind their massive ears.  

Tony expertly navigated them and Bucky even witnesses a boat race between Tony and the Ferryman called Happy. Things were very different here, maybe because Tony’s power was uncontested; nobody thought too much about the Underworld or its inhabitants, perhaps even less of the god in charge. Bucky for his part was having a blast.

Staying hadn’t been his original plan, he just…wanted to get to know Tony more, the god seemed so taciturn when he had to answer to summons from above and now in space he took like a fish underwater. It was a sight.

So, Bucky stayed and pulled Tony out of his crafting as he got to know the Underworld from East to West and back again. The longer he stayed, the less inclined he was to return above and he noticed how new blossoms grew on his wreath. And how Tony smiled at him, soft and glad and awed.

Of course, it wouldn’t last; there was no warning as doors seemed to implode and Steve barged in with Pepper at his heels. His twin came at Tony with a wrath that could rival Natasha’s when she was on a warpath.

Bucky looked helplessly as Steve invaded Tony’s space, sickle in hand ready to strike Tony down. “STEVE!”

“How dare you drag him into your realm!? How dare you take him from above, from my side?!”

Pepper is practically foaming at the mouth, her hands gnarled into vicious looking claws as Steve screams in Tony’s face.

“I only heeded his request, I never thought he would stay.” Tony tries to assert, it was the truth, one known throughout the halls of the Underworld. “I didn’t take him from you, he is my guest for as long as he wishes.”

“Liar!” 

“Why would I gain from lying?” And Tony looks calm and composed, his eyes though, are a whole other story.

“You stole my brother away from his place!”

“Where is that to be exact, behind you?” Tony’s helmet has come to rest on top of his head as if summoned by its master, standing at his full height Tony is still a head short from Steve’s massive body but he looks powerful and mighty all the same.

Bucky loves him, he had known for a while. After his flowers had rained down on the god of the dead, after Tony had let himself be dragged by a bored powerless god and had showed him the beauty of the dark realm. Bucky loves Tony and while he misses his twin, above there’s nothing new to see. As the fight goes on, Bucky reaches for the fruit he’d been taught would make him a permanent resident of the Underworld if he ingested it; he has a mouthful of seeds ready to be swallowed…

“He is part of me, and mortals will keep flooding your halls while he stays.” Bucky’s eyes cut to Steve and then to Tony, he knows the King is not unmoved but his face won’t give away anything. Humans are dying because of Bucky, his brother…

1…3…6 fall and litter the floor, but Bucky has made his choice, he swallows the seeds and shows his tongue to Tony, who sucks in breath so sharply as if shocked. For the first time, Steve turns to him. “What have you done?”

Bucky waves his tinted fingers at his twin. 

“Bucky…” Steve sounds like he’d been punched.

I made my choice, on my own volition to stay with Tony.” Bucky cuts, and his words make Steve gape. “I like it here, in the creepy halls full of dead mortals and with a 3 headed dog that likes to play fetch with everyone and hoards stuff. Because I’m in love with the King of this realm, because Steve, here I’m his equal not an extension of being.”

“Bucky, you…”

Bucky misses his brother a whole fucking lot, but Steve has others out there, while Bucky, well…he thinks he finally found himself. “I’ll go above with you and stay there with you, until it’s time for me to come back where I belong.” He tells Steve and then turns to Tony, who had lost his calm facade. “If you’ll have me?”

Tony seems frozen in place and until he nods, gently at first and then with enough vigor to wake the world. Bucky moves to Steve and touches his forehead to his for moment before facing Tony.

“This is a bit strange.” Tony announces.

“Is it?” Bucky asks, his voice low and intimate, he bets he smells sweet and tangy. 

“Just a smidgen.” Tony smiles, so genuinely Bucky heart beats faster for it. “So, you ate pomegranate seeds as a declaration of love and intention?”

“As a guarantee to you, that I’m where I want to be. Here. With you, at you side, if you’ll have me.” Bucky whispers just a hairbreadth away.

“Yes. For as long as you decide.”

“How does eternally sound?” Bucky brushes his lips against Tony’s and feels the god’s hand encircle his shoulders. 

“Just about right.” When their lips finally touch the flowers from his wreath rain upon them. 

Under the Crimson Flag Ch 18 - Green

FF.NET / AO3

*Please note the rating change starting with this chapter ~now M~*

The gold highlights of her dress twinkled as she moved away from him. He pulled up the hood of his cloak and sank further back into the darkness, keen to lessen any chance of being recognized by the drunken crew of Blackbeard’s ship. She seemed to hesitate after a few moments, looking around the room until she took hold of the wrist of one of the barmaids who had escaped the mass of men. Emma whispered into the lasses ear and she nodded, dashing away behind the bar.

There were posts dotted around the room that supported the floor above, she moved towards one, slowly leaning back against it, wrapping one arm around the coarse wood behind her, the other lifting up to tangle in the loose strands of hair about her neck.

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