half way out of the dark

my experiences with overwatch characters
  • genji: despite all the 'i need healing' memes, they're usually pretty nice. they know the entire team is watching and waiting for them to crash and burn
  • mccree: either spawn from hell or just here to have a good time (usually the latter). will probably try to say hi at the enemy spawn
  • pharah: very friendly. will almost never get their ult to go off but won't be salty about it. thanks healthpacks
  • reaper: KINKY. either cursed as shit or will say hello to anything and everything. anyone that mains reaper has dreamt of him crushing their head between his monster thighs
  • solider 76: VANILLA. it's okay though, most people want to fuck him but can't explain it
  • sombra: definitely only here to have a good time since she's basically useless until the devs give her a monster buff. if the player spams the boop voiceline you will hear that noise in your nightmares forever
  • tracer: very high chance they're gay. very high chance one of the enemy team will switch to tracer because they're annoying
  • ana: absolute sweethearts who will risk life and her other eye to keep you alive. secretly enjoys watching the person she's nanoboosted lose their fucking mind trying to make the most of it though
  • lúcio: again, really sweet. unless they're on ilios in which case he's public enemy number one and even if he's on your team you shoudn't trust him
  • mercy: probably picked healer because everyone else picked genji and hanzo. alternatively, a masochist. if the pistol is used a lot they probably mained medic in TF2 and don't fear god or death
  • zenyatta: most likely play competitive too much. another top tier picks for gays but they probably have clinical depression
  • symmetra: [flicking teleporter on and off] welcome to my reality welcome to my reality
  • reinhardt: in the top three most likely to say hi in spawn. please get behind him
  • roadhog: this one is skin dependent. normal roadhogs are like your weird uncle but roadhogs with the islander or junkenstein's monster skin are maniacs and will hook your entire ancestral line across the map
  • winston: i've only ever seen like three. cryptids
  • zarya: tied with tracer and zenyatta as a pick for gays. a good zarya will take your bullets and shove them back up your ass at mach-1 speed
  • d.va: the chaotic good of the universe. probably has play of the game before the match has even started
  • bastion: probably tried to play bastion in competitive once and that was enough. anyone that places him on that elevator thing in hollywood is a scorpio
  • hanzo: they take skirmish way too seriously
  • junkrat: THE CHAOTIC EVIL TO D.VA'S CHAOTIC GOOD. the sound of a riptire is actually an effective tactic to kill the enemy team irl because half of them will have a stroke out of stress
  • torbjörn: lava eating machine. all of them are cursed and i'm personally afraid of him
  • widowmaker: 57 shots, 1 kill. if they're using the odile skin they're probably a straight male
  • mei: fuck you to hell

A GUIDE FOR YOUNG LADIES ENTERING THE SERVICE OF THE FAIRIES, by Rosamund Hodge


I.

This is the lie they will use to break you: no one else has ever loved this way before.


II.

Choose wisely which court you serve. Light or Dark, Summer or Winter, Seelie or Unseelie: they have many names, but the pith of the choice is this: a poisoned flower or a knife in the dark?

(The difference is less and more than you might think.)

Of course, this is only if you go to them for the granting of a wish: to save your father, sister, lover, dearest friend. If you go to get someone back from them, or—most foolish of all—because you fell in love with one of them, you will have no choice at all. You must go to the ones that chose you.


III.

Be kind to the creature that guards your door. Do not mock its broken, bleeding face.

It will never help you in return. But I assure you, someday you will be glad to know that you were kind to something once.


IV.

Do not be surprised how many other mortal girls are there within the halls. The world is full of wishing and of wanting, and the fairies love to play with human hearts.

You will meet all kinds: the terrified ones, who used all their courage just getting there. The hopeful ones, who think that love or cleverness is enough to get them home. The angry ones, who see only one way out. The cold ones, who are already half-fairy.

I would tell you, Do not try to make friends with any of them, but you will anyway.


V.

Sooner or later (if you serve well, if you do not open the forbidden door and let the monster eat you), they will tell you about the game.

Summer battles Winter, Light battles Dark. This is the law of the world. And on the chessboard of the fairies, White battles Black.

In the glory of this battle, the pieces that are brave and strong may win their heart’s desire.


VI.

You already have forgotten how the mortal sun felt upon your face. You already know the bargain that brought you here was a lie.

If you came to save your sick mother, you fear she is dead already. If you came to free your captive sister, your fear she will be sent to Hell for the next tithe. If you came for love of an elf-knight, you are broken with wanting him, and yet he does not seem to know you.

Say yes.


Keep reading

CAN I JUST SAY THAT HARRY COULDVE WENT THE TYPICAL SOLO STAR ROUTE LIKE HE COULDVE CAME OUT ALL DARK AND MYSTERIOUS AND HALF NAKED WEARING LEATHER WITH WOMEN DRIPPING ALL OVER HIM AND HE COULDVE WENT AGAINST THE BAND AND HE COULDVE BECOME THE ROCKSTAR EVERYONE ALWAYS WANTED HIM TO BE BUT INSTEAD HES JUST HIMSELF, ALL PINK AND FLAMBOYANT AND DORKY AND EVERYTHING IS PRETTY AND BRIGHT AND HES LIKE, “HERE I AM, LOVE ME THE WAY I AM OR DONT LOVE ME AT ALL” AND IM SO PROUD OF HIM MY STRONG BABY THIS IS THE SAME MAN WHO CRIED ABOUT WHAT PEOPLE SAID ABOUT HIM !!! LOOK AT HIM NOW !!! IM SO PROUD !!!!!!! LOOK AT HIM !!!!!! HES DOING THAT !!!!!!!!

Humans and aliens in relationships

In this world where humans are Space Orcs™, Capable of Anything, Afraid-of-Nothing…

Imagine the alien actually having a relationship with a human. First, their friends are so curious and awed and thinks their friend is brave for getting involved with a human.

Second, they are too, at first, until they realize humans are not one particular species that all do the same, but that the specific human they are building a relationship with is pretty cool. Their mind boggles when they realize this, as this would mean that no human can be the same, that they all have different upbringing, likes and dislikes, everything infinitely complex. They finally figure that they, while understanding all of humanity might be impossible, they at least can try understand the one in front of them.

“Hey, C’Lom” the human says as it snaps its fingers in front of their eye-stalks. “Are you still with me?”

“Yes,” they say, “apologies, I was, as you might call it, lost in thought.”

The human stretches its neck muscles to one side, keeping its weird, big eyes on them. It’s very observant, but in a concerned way, like it wants to find out what it can do to make things better.

“Penny for your thoughts?” It says, eating another fried something from the container in front of it.

C’Lom bows their head a bit. Humans and their weird expressions. They ponder a while on how to best use the English language to express such abstract things. The dark room around them is only lit by a few night lights, the mess hall silent for another half hour before everyone starts their shifts. C’Lom had just woken up early and found their crew mate, and learned that it couldn’t sleep. They had started talking in hushed voices and now it was almost morning. Not that the time mattered on a spaceship anyway.

“The vastness of you amazes me,” they finally settled on, watching the humans expression as it took another bite.

The human swallowed, nodding.

“Likewise,” it said, and smiled a smile that made the whole room seem brighter.

***

I also can’t help but imagine the sex. Like, the alien might not know that humans procreate in any special way because they have never heard of it. They don’t really know anything about different sexes either because not all aliens has those, or they might have moved past it so that it isn’t part of their culture anymore, or something. TLDR, sex isn’t a thing this alien knows about, and even less human sex.

And after a while they are in a relationship and they want to make their human feel good, for their birthday or something. So they ask another human, and this human, after the shock dies down, start asking what kind of relationship they are having. Are they just friends? Are they lovers? Do they meet other people or are they exclusive? Have they kissed? Are they going to have a family?

The alien is so confused and preoccupied they don’t get a present for the human at all, they just sits around and stares vacantly until the human flat out ask them what’s wrong. The alien tells it and the human is making a facial expression where it’s both concerned and amused at the same time.

“Yeah, Dana has very strict ideas on what a relationship should be like. I don’t think that such definitions are as important as long as we are happy together.”

“Do I make you happy?”

The human smiled and traced C’Loms face with its eyes.

“Yes, you make me very happy.”

Maybe their relationship turns physical after this conversation, and C’Lom learns that the Strong, Capable Human™ can turn into putty if you know where to touch them.

Aaand maybe the alien does have tentacles or something similar and maybe they aren’t compatible enough to make babies but they might not want that anyway, and maybe they can adopt?

Anyway, this were just some things on my mind ;)

2

“I shouldn’t have been surprised. Not when Rhysand liked to make a spectacle of everything. And found pissing off Tamlin to be an art form.
But there he was.
Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, now stood beside me, darkness leaking from him like ink in water.
He angled his head, his blue-black hair shifting with the movement. Those violet eyes sparkled in the golden faelight as they fixed on Tamlin, as he held up a hand to where Tamlin and Lucien and their sentries had their swords half-drawn, sizing up how to get me out of the way, how to bring him down—
But at the lift of that hand, they froze.
Ianthe, however, was backing away slowly, face drained of color.
“What a pretty little wedding,” Rhysand said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as those many swords remained in their sheaths. The remaining crowd was pressing back, some climbing over seats to get away.”

Touché // j.j.

You can’t pin point when. Somewhere between the steady typing and the flipping of pages, between the constant supply of french fries and chocolate milkshakes, between the occasional eye contact and the brief smiles. Somewhere between the hours of three and seven o'clock, you fell.

To be specific, you fell in love with Jughead Jones, Riverdale’s resident tall dark and handsome, at least, in your opinion.

It started one afternoon when Pop’s was busier than usual, every booth and table full except one.

“Do you…do you mind if I sit?” You ask, rocking slightly on the balls of your feet. “Everywhere else is full.”

You expect him to say no; he is, after all, Jughead Jones, and this is, after all, Riverdale, probably the smallest town in the world and everyone at least knew of everyone else, and you definitely know of Jughead and his preference to being alone, especially when he’s writing.

Jughead ceases his typing, locking eyes with you. He glances around the diner, almost surprised at how many people were in it.

“I’m not the best conversationalist,” he says, looking back at you, “I can’t promise anything good.”

This surprises you, you expected a flat out no or for him to even just ignore you.

“I’m not looking for conversation,” you say, shrugging, “just somewhere to sit and read my book while enjoying a milkshake.”

“Depends,” he smirks, folding his hands in front of his laptop, “what flavor milkshake?”

“The best one of course,” you smile back, “chocolate.”

Jughead smiles, actually smiles, and nods.

“Yeah, yeah you can sit,” he says.

You thank him, sliding into the booth and setting your bag next to you. You pull out your book, thanking the waiter as he set down your milkshake.

“Oh, I’m Y/N by the way,” you say, stirring the drink a bit.

“I know.”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side.

“You know who I am?”

You remind yourself again that this is Riverdale, probably the smallest town in the world, where everyone knows everyone.

“I know more than you think,” he smiles.

“You take this dark and mysterious thing seriously don’t you?”

“I thought you weren’t looking for conversation?” He raises an eyebrow, half a smirk on his face.

“Touché,” you say, opening your book and settling into the plush seating, sipping occasionally at your milkshake.

This continues for days. Regardless of whether Pop’s is bursting at the seems or it’s just you and him, you always sit together. The two of you sit in that booth, you with a book in one hand and a milkshake in another and Jughead with his laptop on the table and fries next to it.

“You know,” Jughead says one day, fingers still whizzing across the keyboard, “you can sit somewhere else if you want.”

“And ruin the work we’ve been doing?” You smile, “I’m good.”

He stops typing, you feel his eyes on you.

“And what work are we doing exactly?”

“Bonding, Jug,” you say, turning the page.

“Is this what bonding is?”

You look up at him, shrugging.

“What would you call it?”

“Touché.”

Weeks pass, the time you spend at Pop’s growing from a one or two hours into several, your time together stretching into early dusk.

“Hey Jug?” You ask quietly one day, closing your book for once.

He notices, he stops typing, he even half way closes the top of his computer.

“What’s up?”

“How’d you know who I was?” You ask, stirring your milkshake. “That first day…you said you knew who I was before I told you. How?”

“This is Riverdale,” he says, “I think it’s physically impossible to not know someone in this town.”

Jughead opens his mouth to continue, then closes it. You can see the wheels turning in his head.

“I notice things, I notice people,” he resumes finally, “I notice when people are different and you’re different. A good different, but different.”

With that, he raises the lid of his laptop, eyes focusing back on the screen.

“You noticed me?”

He looks back up at you, a smile on his face.

“Course I did.”

When you get to Pop’s one day about a week later, Jughead’s not there, Archie is.

“Oh um…hi,” you say, stopping short in front of the booth.

“Hey, Y/N right?” He asks, motioning for you to sit.

You do.

“Yeah, that’s um…” you shift your weight slightly, feeling uncomfortable, “that’s me.”

“Sorry, this must be awkward,” Archie says with a smile, “I’m Archie.”

“Yeah, I know who you are,” you say before you can stop yourself.

Archie’s eyebrows scrunch up slightly in confusion.

“Sorry, that sounded weird,” you rush, “I just mean, you’re a sophomore on varsity football, the whole school knows who you are.”

Archie smiles a bit, nodding.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he shrugs, “anyway, Jughead sent me.”

You feel your shoulders relax involuntarily, leaning back into the seat.

“Okay.”

“He had to stay after school, make up a test or something,” Archie explains, “he told me to come tell you that he’d be here though, just a bit late.”

You smile.

“Thanks Archie,” you nod, “that’s really nice.”

“Anytime,” the boy replies, smiling, “look uh…this may sound super weird but um…you and Jughead…is that anything more th-”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “no we’re…we’re just friends. At least…I think we’re friends. We just…we sit together and we do our own thing. That’s all.”

“I know Jughead, that’s definitely a friendship,” he smiles, “okay, I gotta head back to practice before I’m missed but yeah, he’ll be here.”

With another smile he scoots out of the booth.

“Archie,” you stop him, looking up at his face, “look um…god this is going to sound crazy but…is Jughead…is he seeing anyone o-or som-”

“No,” Archie cuts you off with another smile on his face, “he was, for a bit but…not anymore. Do you like him?”

You’re surprised by his bluntness, your eyes widening a bit.

“I uh…n-no I was just curious,” you shake your head, pulling your book out of your bag, “you better get to practice, don’t want coach to bench you.”

Archie smiles again, always with the smiling, and walks out of the door just as Jughead walks in.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he says, sitting down across from you.

“I didn’t know we had a set schedule,” you smirk, tilting your head slightly, “nice of you to send your friend though.”

Jughead looks at you, a sarcastic smile on his face.

“Didn’t want you to think I stood you up,” he says, pulling out his laptop.  

“Don’t you have to be on a date to get stood up?” You ask, sipping at your milkshake as Pop places a basket of fries in front of Jughead.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he replies, shrugging.

“So are you telling me that these are dates?”

This time you surprise yourself with your own bluntness, and Jughead as well. He recovers quickly though, the shock on his face only evident for a few brief moments.

“You tell me.”

There it is, his smile, his actual smile. Not a smirk, not some no effort half smile, an actual, full blown, Jughead smile.

Looking back on it, you think that’s when you first knew, when you first realized that you were falling for him.

The rest of the night is spent in silence, well, besides the sound of Jughead’s typing and your book pages begin turned.

You arrive at Pop’s the next day to see Jughead already sitting at the booth, typing furiously. That didn’t surprise you. What did surprise you, however, is the chocolate milkshake already sitting on the table in front of your side of the booth.

“I didn’t see you at school today,” you say, sitting down, “did you skip?”

“Yeah, yeah I um…” he pauses, finishing the sentence he’s typing before looking at you, “I got here this morning because I forgot one of my notebooks and I sat down to finish this paragraph I was on and uh…next thing I knew it was one o'clock in the afternoon so I…figured I’d just stay here.”

“Archie asked me if I knew where you were,” you say, “he came up to me during lunch and asked if I knew if you were sick or not.”

“What did you say?”

“The truth,” you reply, “that I didn’t know.”

Jughead nods, looking back down at his computer screen.

“Jug?” You ask, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

He continues to type, oblivious to your calls of his name.

“Juggie!” You exclaim, finally drawing his attention.

“Sorry, got caught up in the story,” he shakes his head, “what’s up?”

“What’s going on with you?” You ask, sliding your book off to the side. “You seem…I dunno, off.”

“Sorry just um…a lot of stuff on my mind I guess,” he says, shrugging.

“About Jason or…other things?” You ask.

“It’s nothing important.”

“Juggie,” you say softly, sliding your hand across the table to touch his arm, “if it’s bothering you this much, it’s important. You can talk to me, always.”

“We’re friends right?” He asks, closing his computer all the way.

“Yeah, yeah course we are Jug,” you nod, “please, tell me what’s going on.”

And he does, he tells you everything. About his parents splitting up, about his dad being part of the serpents, about his mom taking his sister and leaving, about living at the drive in, about living at the school, everything. And you let him talk, you let him go on for as long as he needs with no interruption, just listening.

“Sorry if that’s a lot but um…I needed to get that stuff off my chest,” he finishes, taking a deep breath, “thanks though.”

“Come stay with me,” the words are out of your mouth before you even think them through, but you don’t take them back, “seriously Jug, my dad’s away on business and my mom won’t care, we’ve got room.”

“No Y/N I can’t expect that from you I do-”

“Juggie, you’re my best friend,” you say, cheeks burning slightly, “please, let me do this for you.”

Jughead looks down, staring your hand touching his, both of your fingers practically intertwined on top of the table.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” He asks after a minute or two silence, looking around the diner, “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“I’m absolutely positive it’s okay,” you reply, catching his gaze, “but I’m not going to force you.”

“As long as you’re sure,” he says, nodding, “I’d really like to not live under the stairs like Harry Potter.”

You were right, your mom doesn’t care, she even convinces your dad that it’s okay for Jughead to stay with you, and after three weeks of it, you’re convinced it is the single best idea you’ve ever had.

The two of you still spend most of your time at Pop’s, something about the neon lights and plush seating and the constant supply of chocolate milkshakes makes you feel more at home than you do at your actual house. Or maybe Jughead does. Maybe Jughead makes you feel like you’re home.

“Do you ever wonder how some people end up with the worst luck?” He asks one day, eyes never leaving his computer screen as he chews on this thumb nail.

The two of you are going on four hours at Pop’s that day, and you notice that Jughead has barely written anything.

“Are we talking about Jason?” You ask gently, closing the book you were reading and placing it on the table.

“We’re talking about everyone,” he says cryptically, “how some people are born with everything they could ever want available on a silver platter and others are born with nothing, but somehow the golden boy ends up with the worst kind of luck.”

Jughead rarely ever spoke directly about Jason Blossom, you knew by now how to read between the lines of his novel-ish tone of voice.

“I think that it doesn’t matter what you’re born into,” you reply, “I think what matters is the choices we decide to make throughout our lives, and that that’s how we end up with good or bad luck, by the choices we make and by how we live our lives.”

“He never had to make a choice though,” Jughead exclaims, closing his laptop and sliding it out of the way, “that’s the thing, he never in his life had to make one choice for himself and somehow he still ended up murdered.”

His bluntness surprises you, this being one of a few times he directly tells you he’s talking about Jason.

“He did make choices, Jug,” you explain calmly, “everyday, just like you and me. He made the choice to let his parents give him whatever he wanted, he made the choice to follow that stupid book Chuck made up, he made the choice to be with Polly regardless of what his parents said, he made the choice to try and fake his own death so he could be with her without fear of them, he made hard choices, some of them more tough than you and I will ever make in our entire lives.”

Jughead stares at you, and for a minute you think he’s going to get up and leave.

But then he grabs his computer, mumbling a quick thank you under his breath and he begins to type furiously.

That night you’re laying on your bed, Jughead in the guest room across the hall and you can’t help but feel like he’s a million miles away.

You can’t sleep. Grabbing your phone, you squint at the brightness before you’re able to turn it down, looking at the clock.

2:37 am

“He’s probably asleep,” you whisper to yourself as you unlock the device, fingers moving almost on autopilot to Jughead’s message thread.

Can’t sleep, you awake?

You lay the phone on your stomach, staring up at the dark ceiling and willing your body to sleep. The vibration of the device pulls you out of your thoughts.

You okay?

You smile, two simple words causing happiness to bubble up in your stomach.

Yeah, just can’t seem to sleep.

You want to come talk?

If you don’t mind.

You’re always able to come talk to me.

You don’t reply, instead you get up out of your bed, quietly opening your door and then closing it behind you. You take three quick steps across the hallway, opening and closing Jughead’s door as quietly as you did your own.

“Hey,” you say softly, standing in front of the door.

Jughead props himself up on his elbows, the first thing you notice is the lack of a grey beanie upon his head.

“Hey,” he says back in the same tone, “you okay?”

Those two words again, this time sounding even better as you can hear him say it in his own voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, pushing some hair behind your ear nervously.

Why are you nervous? You ask yourself as Jughead motions for you to come join him. It’s only Juggie.

You slide under the covers, but only because the room is cold, and you’re next to him, but only because it’s his room, and his arm is around your shoulders, but only because he’s a good friend and he wants to comfort you.

“Why can’t you sleep?” He asks, rubbing his eye with one hand.

“Did I wake you up?” You ask.

“No I was working on my book,” he explains, pointing at the computer on the bedside table, “don’t change the subject.”

“I dunno…overthinking I guess,” you reply, shrugging a bit.

“About what?”

“Everything I suppose,” you say, “about how if Pop’s wasn’t full that one day or if I had decided not to go then we probably wouldn’t have ever met. About how if I hadn’t continued to sit there we probably wouldn’t have become best friends, about what Archie sa-”

“Archie?” Jughead cuts you off. “What about Archie?”

You curse yourself silently. You didn’t mean to say anything about Archie.

“Nothing, nothing,” you reply quickly, but the look on Jughead’s face told you that he wasn’t going to let it go, “okay um…back that one day when you sent him to Pop’s to tell me that you were going to be late uh…he said that you had been seeing someone but that you weren’t anymore and I was…I guess I was just thinking about who it could’ve been.”

He’s silent, more silent than you’ve ever experienced with the many months of knowing him. Minutes pass, they feel like hours. Finally, you decide to break the silence.

“Juggie?” You whisper.

“Sorry I um…” he shakes his head, raven colored hair flying everywhere, “why were…why were you thinking about that?”

“Curious, I guess,” you explain, “sorry if that seems intrusive or weird or whatever bu-”

“No no it’s…it’s okay,” Jughead replies, wrapping his arm around your shoulders a bit tighter, “it…it was Betty. We had a thing for a few weeks but in the end we decided we were better off as friends.”

“A few weeks?”

“Before I met you, we stopped about two days before that day at Pop’s”

“And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“You and Betty, are you better off as friends?”

“Definitely.”

You nod, falling into silence once again.

This time Jughead breaks it.

“Look I’m not…I’m not good at this whole feelings thing,” he says, “Betty was the first girl I ever really had those types of emotions for but it wasn’t…it wasn’t what I’m supposed to feel. Or rather what I want to feel.”

“Do you know what you want to feel?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at his face.

He looks almost angelic in the pale light streaming through the semi-closed blinds.

“Yes.”

“Do you know anyone that makes you feel like that?”

“Yes.”

The answer comes quick, almost too quick.

“Who?”

Another pause.

“I can’t say.”

Your stomach drops on slightly, but enough for your to feel it nonetheless.

“Oh.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he rushes, running one of his hands through his hair, “it’s just that I don’t really know how to.”

“You’re a writer, Jug,” you say, “I know you’ll figure out how to tell her. You’re good with words.”

“Not when it comes to these kinds of words,” he laughs lightly, “I don’t want to mess up.”

“Don’t psych yourself out,” you encourage, regardless of the weight on your heart, “maybe you don’t need your words this time, maybe actions is the way to go. I believe in you, I know you’ll figure it out.”

Jughead finally looks at you, dark hair falling in front of his face as it’s still free of the infamous crown beanie.

“Actions?” He repeats.

“Yeah, you know what they say,” you smile, “actions speak louder than words.”

He blinks a few times, it’s almost like you can see the thought processing through his brain.

And then suddenly his hands are cupping your face and his lips are on top of yours, your eyes closing as if they had minds of their own. You’re shocked, who wouldn’t be, but it only takes a fraction of a moment for your mind to kick into gear and then your kissing him back, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck.

If I’m dreaming I hope I never ever wake up.

He pulls away too soon for your liking, both your chests rising and falling little faster than usual.

“That thing you said about actions,” he says breathlessly, “I believe it.”

You smile wide, Jughead pressing his forehead against yours.

“You were talking about me?” You ask, still a bit shocked.

Jughead nods a few times, a smile on his face as well.

“I like you, Y/N,” he finally says, “I know that’s not poetic or artistic or anything like that but I just…I don’t have any other words. I really like you.”

You think your face is going to split in half by the giant smile you can’t keep off your face.

“Juggie,” you bite your bottom lip lightly, shaking your head, “god I can’t even tell you how much I’ve been wanting you to say that.”

Jughead’s smile widens and you swear the room brightness a bit.

“I’m really glad you couldn’t sleep tonight,” he whispers, laughing quietly.

“Me too,” you smile even wider, if that’s possible, “Juggie I’m…I’m really really happy right now.”

“God I am too,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “do you maybe want to have dinner with my friends tomorrow? I know they’re going out after the game, I can finally introduce you, properly too.”

“Ooh, dinner with the friends,” you say sarcastically, “I don’t know, you think our relationship is ready for that? We’ve only been together all of five minutes.”

Jughead laughs and you shush him, the two of you falling silent to make sure your parents were still asleep.

“My dad will kill you if you wake him up and he finds us like this,” you whisper, shaking your head, “but in all seriousness, do you think it’ll be awkward for Betty? I don’t want to cause any trouble or anything I know you guys ar-”

“Y/N,” he stops your rambling, a soft smile on his face, “it’ll be fine. Betty and I are good, like I said, we’re better off as friends. Trust me, she’ll be okay. I wouldn’t bring either of you to meet each other if I didn’t think she’d be okay.”

“Okay, I’ll come to dinner with your friends,” you say, “on one condition.”

“Oh god, what?”

“I get to wear the infamous beanie,” you rush out, reaching over Jughead’s body and plucking the hat from on top of is computer.

“Y/N!” Jughead exclaims, trying to grab the hat back from you.

“Hold on hold on,” you say, pushing his hand away.

You put the beanie on your head, smoothing your hair out under it and looking back up at him.

Jughead stops struggling, half a smile on his face.

“Well you do look adorable,” he says, brushing a stray piece of hair off your cheek.

“I wear the beanie tomorrow,” you ask with raised eyebrows.

“You can wear it to dinner,” he compromises, tilting his head to the side.

“Touché.”

Jughead keeps his word, and when the two of you leave your house that evening and head for Pop’s, he takes the beanie off his head and places it on yours, shaking out his hair. Jughead intertwines your fingers together, smiling at you and at how happy you look.

Jughead explains his friends to you, telling you a bit about each one of them as you both walk towards the diner.

“They’re probably going to say something,” he says, “about the beanie.”

“Have any of them ever seen you without it?” You question.

“Archie has, a few times,” he explains, “but other than that, no.”

Jughead’s warnings were a bit understated. In fact, when the two of you walk into Pop’s and find his friends at a booth, it seems all conversation in the entire diner ceases.

“Jug,” one of the girls, Veronica, says, mouthing wordlessly for a few seconds, “you made it, we thought you weren’t going to come for a while.”

“Yeah, yeah we left a bit late,” Jughead shrugs, “guys um…this is Y/N. Y/N, this is…well this is everyone.”

Once the awkward formalities were out of the way and Pop had brought over everyone’s celebratory milkshakes (the football team won that night), everything felt normal.

You laugh at all the jokes, even tell some of your own. You feel like you’ve been part of this group for years, and you know Jughead can tell.

“Hey um…sorry guys I gotta take this,” Jughead says after he pulls out his phone.

“Juggie?” You ask. “Everything okay?”

“What? Yeah,” he replies, “it’s just…it’s my mom. I should take it.”

“Yeah, yeah of course go ahead,” Betty says, “we’ll keep her company,” she smiles at you.

Jughead thanks them, walking out the door to the diner with the phone up to his ear.

“So,” Veronica says, holding her head up with her hands, “you and Jughead.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“Oh come on, don’t make her spell it out!” Kevin says, “he’s letting you wear his most prized possession for pete’s sake!”

You feel a blush spread across your cheeks, looking down at the half empty milkshake in front of you.

“I think you guys make a cute couple,” Betty says, licking some whipped cream off of her straw.

“Thanks Betty,” you reply, smiling again.

“This is going to sound awkward but uh…” Archie trails off, “has Jug told you anything about what’s going with his family an-”

“Yeah,” you cut him off, “he has. About everything, including his dad and that stuff. He’s um…he’s staying at my house. Has been for a couple weeks.”

Veronica smirks, Betty elbows her in the ribs. Archie and Kevin rolls their eyes at the two girls.

“Hey, I think he’s talking about you,” Kevin says, nodding in Jughead’s direction.

The four of you look over at him, you watch as he talks into his phone with a huge smile on his face, running a hand through his hair to push it back every couple of seconds.

The night draws to a close all too soon, everyone heading back to their houses as you and Jughead walk hand in hand down the asphalt road.

“I think that went really well,” you say, smiling at him.

“I agree,” Jughead says, stopping you both from walking and standing in front of you.

Before you can ask what he’s doing, he places his lips on yours cupping your cheek with one hand while simultaneously tilting your head up. You feel him lift the beanie off of your head, but honestly you don’t really care. He pulls away with a smirk, fixing his hat back on his head.

“Archie,” you say, looking over Jughead’s shoulder.

“Really?” He asks with semi-wide eyes, “that’s what you’re thinking about in the middle of our moment?”

No, god you’re an idiot,” you shake your head, pointing over his shoulder, “Archie’s window, which happens to show Archie watching us right now.”

As soon as Jughead turns around Archie slides his curtains closed, causing you and Jughead to burst out in laughter.

“Did you kiss me just to steal your hat back?” You ask in a fake shocked tone.

“Possibly,” he replies, quirking an eyebrow.

“Touché Jones, touché.”

High for This

High for This by evansrogerskitten

Dean x Reader x Sam, John x Reader

A witch’s curse hexes the three Winchester men and reader, leading to a night of desire that would change things forever.

Warnings: Explicit, Smut, Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Threesome (NO Wincest), Fingering, Language, Dom!John, discussion of being high, dirty talk, orgasm denial, squirting, spanking, mention of a panic attack, Feels, A lil fluff, lack of protection, canon divergence. To be clear- the characters have all consented to all sexual acts in this story. 

Word Count: 8408 | On AO3 | This is inspired by the song High for This by The Weeknd, and my first song for @mrs-squirrel-chester Album Fanficfion Challenge. 

This fic had a mind of its own but I love it. I hope you do too :)


The Impala rolled into a parking space on the street and Sam killed the engine. I straightened the sleeves of my navy fed suit, and looked over at him.

“You really think she’s going to know anything?” Sam pestered, looking through the window.

“Witnesses said two of the victims had been here to see her for readings.” I responded, climbing out of the car. I patted my jacket pocket to make sure I still had my fake FBI badge. “She does readings on love and relationships.”

Sam rolled his eyes as we walked up the sidewalk to the old house.

“What if she’s really psychic then? She’ll know we’re hunters.” Sam suggested sarcastically as he looked over his shoulder to the street.

“Then we’ll improvise. It’ll be fine, Sam.” I responded, looking around the front porch. A bright Psychic Reader sign lit up the front window.

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underneath alec, magnus’s gold sheets were soft and silky to the touch, pooling between his legs as he laid back against the full pillows. across the room at one of the dressers, magnus was shirtless, boxers clinging tight to his ass and his thighs as the sound of his rings clinking echoed in the room, that same sound echoing, metal against ceramic, as his necklaces came off one by one.

the warm light was dripping down the tight muscles of his back, spilling over his spine, shadows and light playing across his shoulder blades. alec was lost for words and for breath. he was sure that they had been talking about something at some point. but conversation had petered out in favor of the honeyed light of the late evening and the little sounds of two people sharing space together.

alec pressed his lips together, breathing in slowly and then he dragged his tongue over his lower lip as he breathed out, watching as magnus turned towards him, his hip pushed against the dresser. he was staring now, eyelids heavy over his beautiful dark brown eyes and just a hint of a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth.

“are you tired?” magnus asked, his deep voice reverberating. alec contemplated it for a moment, but really he was just staring at the way the light illuminated one half of magnus’s face, the beauty spot above is eyebrow dark against his tawny skin. alec breathed in again slowly, his own eyelids drooping and he felt the question slipping out of his mind as he dragged the pads of his fingers through the hair on his chest.

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@lumenlight prompted me, “Sterek AU where Stiles tries to seduce Derek but Derek has the habit of only dating older people (Jennifer, Kate …). So he says no to Stiles and Stiles is really disappointed but by chance he keeps seeing Derek and with time Derek realizes that he may have made a mistake?”

Hope you like it!! 

~4000 words, rated M. (I don’t usually write smut, but I felt like this was that kind of prompt.)

Stiles usually doesn’t venture as far out of town as the Preserve—there’s not much out here but trees—but today that’s kind of the point. If he’s going to start up a jogging regimen to prep for lacrosse in the fall, he’s sure as hell not going to do it in his own neighborhood, where all his neighbors can (and will) watch him flailing around looking stupid.

He doesn’t actually end up jogging at all, though, because before he finds the trail he’d marked on his map, his Jeep abruptly sputters and dies on him right in the middle of the road. That’s also about when it starts raining.

“Oh, come on,” Stiles groans, hitting his head on the steering wheel a few times.

He pulls out his phone to call someone—his dad, a tow truck, Scott—and there’s no signal. Right. Because he wanted isolated, and he got it.

There’s no sound at all except the drumming of the rain on the roof of the Jeep, coming down harder and harder, taunting him for being such a fucking idiot.

He thinks about waiting it out, but who knows how long that could take, and if he doesn’t make it back home in time for dinner or at least get somewhere where he can make a phone call, then his dad is probably going to think he got eaten by a mountain lion or something.

“Fuck it,” he mutters. He pockets his phone and keys, grits his teeth, and jumps out into the downpour.

*

He has to walk for about twenty minutes before he finds any sign of civilization. It’s a house, or at least part of one. It’s tucked away down a long dirt driveway on the edge of the Preserve and looks sketchy as hell. It’s been burned, badly, and even though it looks like maybe someone’s been fixing it up, it’s still not exactly what Stiles would call habitable. Part of the charred roof is caved in, and most of the windows on the second floor are shattered, their jagged glass gleaming ominously in the dim light and the rain.

Stiles would assume it’s abandoned, except that there’s a shiny black Camaro parked out front. That at least looks well cared for.

It’s that detail, plus the rather compelling fact that this is probably the only house for at least a mile and Stiles can feel his feet starting to rub raw in his wet tennis shoes, that finally gives him the courage he needs to squelch his way through the mud and onto the porch to knock on the door.

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anonymous asked:

Do you know some good fma fics that aren't so shipy? Thanks!

AO3

Demon Alchemist- really good; it’s a take on how things would have turned out if Al hadn’t survived the human transmutation. It’s thematically dark, but not in an over the top gory way, and plot and writing wise it’s one of the best Fullmetal Alchemist works I’ve ever read.

We Haunt Ourselves- a one-shot that’s similar to the shared body AU I posted a while ago- the writer does a really good job of capturing the right atmosphere.

Trisha’s Boys- a one-shot in which the Elric brothers are half Ishbalan.

Nyctophobia- one-shot post Brotherhood that focuses on an amnesic Pride.

Under Ishvalla- series on the Ishvalan AU involving Mustang discovering Ed and Al’s heritage and Scar attempting to be a teacher. Nina lives.

Desert Gold- another Ishvalan AU. The Elrics embrace their mother’s culture.

Tumblr

(…they all turned out to be by phantomrose96. Guess she’s the only person’s work I save on this sight…)

Fire Hazard- Ed talks Roy out of doing something he’ll regret.

Giving Tree- Edward will do anything for Alphonse. Plus, chapter two and an interval.

End Game- Maes Hughes is dead, but Roy still sees him.

Experimental- Greed meets Nina.

Like You’ve Been to War- Roy’s memory slips for a moment.

Untitled- Roy, Maes, and irony.

FFN

Ambidextrous- Ed was right handed, heavy on the was. Mustang’s team help.

Attitude Adjustment- Alphonse shows that he does, in fact, have a temper.

Rapacious Avarice- incomplete story on a time traveling Greedling from the Devil’s Nest perspective.

Gold From Lead- Edward is mistaken for Roy’s son.

A Dish of Herbs- Doctor Marcoh has issues when it comes to saving himself.

Born of Ashes- series of drabbles on the Homunculi.

‘’- You mentioned something about being in love?’’

A/N: Almost a year ago I was the queen of angst but here we are and another fluff bomb is thrown your way. I hope you enjoy! This isn’t my best piece but I just wanted to share something with you guys to make up for the lack of my presence for so long. Please note that english is not my first language so there might be grammar mistakes

Pairings: Bucky X Reader

Prompt: Sometimes you find someone that feels like the perfect piece to your puzzle, realising that secret relationships are a slippery slope when you live in an intense environment like begin an Avenger. 

Warnings: Fluffness overload

Word count: 3300

Originally posted by little--batman

There’s that feeling of safety, a luxury you weren’t privileged of experiencing very often, for either of you. Wrapped in Bucky’s arms, his deep breaths fanning down your neck and leaving a tingling sensation on your soft skin as he pulls you closer to his broad figure, ensuring that there isn’t an inch separating you from him. His lips finding themselves ever so often on your body for gentle feather light kisses to assure that you were his, and he was yours. Like two puzzles finally fitting together, your own little secret. 

Soon his sounds of slumber lull you to sleep, his arms framing you and shielding you from the usual night terrors. He was the calming of the storms in your heart, just as you were to his, a shelter you had so desperately searched for. These nights were your safe havens, your break from the taunting lives you lived, with each other there to distract from the haunting memories of your pasts. 

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You may not have noticed, because it’s subtle, but Hugh Jackman and Patrick Stewart just gave Hollywood and the X-Men franchise a pretty harsh backhand. On the surface, you might think I’m talking about them announcing that they were retiring from the roles of Wolverine and Professor X, but that’s not entirely it. It comes from Stewart saying that he’d play the role again for Legion and/or Deadpool. At the same time, Jackman said he’d play Wolverine again if it was for an Avengers movie. You have to do a little reading between the lines, but it won’t take much squinting to see the half-hidden “fuck you” in there. Let me explain.

Logan came out, was embraced by audiences and critics alike, was deemed “The Dark Knight of Marvel movies,” and made out with the box office using all the tongue that it wanted to. In it, Wolverine, Professor X, and a mysterious little girl massacre their way across America in an attempt to get the child to a place where she can be safe. And no longer shouldering the weight of a PG-13 rating, audiences delighted in watching Wolverine quickly hit BINGO on a card filled with severed body parts.

But seeing Jackman deplete the Midwest’s entire supply of nameless henchmen isn’t the only thing that drew audiences to X-Men 10. This film was also hyped as the last hurrah of him playing Wolverine, and it was later revealed to also be Patrick Stewart’s last outing as Wheels. The story of a sideburned asshole and the teacher he hung out with (which began at the tail end of the Clinton administration) was finally coming to a close.

Probably. Maybe.

How Hugh Jackman And Patrick Stewart Farted On The X-Men

The Arrangement (Part 13)

Originally posted by yaelstiel

Summary: you head to the only safe place you can think of. A talk with your father gives you the courage to return to work, where Dean finds you immediately. But he’s not expecting your reaction. Charlie and Cas come to the rescue.

Pairing: AU!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,900

Warnings: Language, ANGST, general sadness, betrayal…

A/N: Bad to worse, kiddos. Buckle in for some serious angst. Please don’t hate me. I promise I’ll make it up to you…

Check out the Series Masterlist

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 Sangwoo…!! 

I fucking love Killing Stalking ok it’s the best manhwa ever….
(Believe it or not, it’s not the nastiest thing I’ve ever read. That would be Feeding Lamb)
Most is from Sangwoo’s prespective, but some is stalker Bum’s view.
Anyways here’s a playlist for the most controversial and problematic ship of the year

TRACKS:

  • A Little Piece of Heaven- Avenged Sevenfold
  • I Almost Told You That I Loved You- Papa Roach
  • Body- Mother Mother
  • Dead Bite- Hollywood Undead
  • Tear You Apart- She Wants Revenge
  • Stalkers (Slit My Wrists)- Mindless Self Indulgence
  • This Hurts- Mindless Self Indulgence
  • Good L_ck (Yo_’re F_cked)- Celldweller
  • Lady Killer- Andrew Jackson Jihad
  • Kill of the Night- Gin Wigmore
  • The Horror of Our Love- Ludo
  • I Can’t Decide- Scissor Sisters
  • Murder!- BoyinaBand, Minx, and Chilled
  • Bernadette- IAMX
  • Bound and Gagged- Creature Feature
  • Another Way Out- Hollywood Undead
  • The Dark Half- Aesthetic Perfection
  • Sarcasm- Get Scared
  • Super Psycho Love- Simon Curtis
  • It’s Murder- Mayhem

LISTEN HERE

My Alpha

Originally posted by sebastianobrien

“Bucky, I want to go for a walk.” The feeble omega stated. Brushing her soft locks to the side, waiting for a reaction from her brothers best friend. “Steve said I was allowed as long as you know i’m heading out,” She further fought for her right, seeing as the older Alpha was ignoring her wishes.

“Cant you just go in your little nest?” He was always commanding, not wanting to go out and start trouble, his voice deep and ruthless, “Honestly, what would a walk do, Where would you even walk?” Now he decides to stand, to turn to her form and witness her staring at her shoes, while picking her nails in a nervous manner, “Where do you want to walk, Omega?” Not making a move to respond to his questions, he released an audible sigh of tiredness, rubbing the bridge of his nose he ushered her out with his wrist. “I’ll meet you outside in five, your not walking alone.”


He was always demanding, wanting things to go his way or nothing. That was the biggiest set back of all Alphas, they think they’re the best of the system  and they should be worshiped and listened to. Alphas would get what ever they want when ever they want, Bucky and Steve just so happened to notice the pet peeve of Omegas and try their hardest to surpass them.

“Alright, Alpha.” Her mood changed drastically, Bucky had to hold back his pheromones for a minute longer just to make sure the itty Omega wouldn’t get a whiff of what she does to him just by calling him by his status. The things Steve’s little sister does to him… He just cant help it. He cant help saying “No,” to her, he had tried, but ended up taking it right back and giving the bitty girl what she wants. Which was something big, Never does an alpha take back what they say, Steve noticed, but decided to stay out.

So he found himself lacing hands with the little Omega he fantasies about. She probably didn’t even know it, but her scent was maximized to the double, as she just finished her heat three days ago. The scent she leaves behind that gets carried by the harsh wind would grab many unwanted Alphas and their attention. Secretly he would rub himself all over her, giving her his scent for the day. Not that she minded, she never seemed to have a problem with it.

“I love the wind in autumn,” She spoke, as they passed yet another nude tree, its branches stuck out like a sour thumb. Bucky nodded, tightening his scarf around his neck, he was never much for words, especially around her. “Whats your favorite season?” She spoke mindlessly as she caressed a few branched that had been weighted down by their length. 


“Autumn is nice,” He agreed, watching as she smiled warmly his way. She had let it slip once that she enjoyed having similar interests. Not that he would lie just to get her closer to him, but it was a nice little tid bit to know about her character, as she loves to bond well, both physically and mentally.

“Ted loved the summer,” She said, out of habit. She would always talk about her Alpha, boost his self esteem by praising him and talking about him to many other Alphas; Bucky was beyond sick of hearing the bastereds name roll off her tong like a prayer.

“Didn’t he cheat on you?”

Which was true, Steve’s little sister had an amazing Alpha, who just loved to have more then one Omega at his feet. Once Steve found out, he blew a casket. If that wasn’t enough, her ex Alpha threatened to bond her if he so as much smells her across the streets. Bucky was confused, if her ex Alpha was all bad news and somewhat history, why was she still talking about him like she still loves him and wants him back?

“Yes… why are you asking, your the one who broke both his arms.” If there was anything in the world Bucky loved it would have to be this oblivious Omega beside him. She tried to remove her hand from his, but he wasn’t budging. His eyes were glaring at the street sign coming up, not wanting to grow any angrier.

“Bucky, you stink.” her small cries almost went unnoticed, if it wasn’t for her trying hard to shove his hands away from hers. “Bucky let go,” Her wails only grew stronger. The Alpha was now walking faster, as if dragging her frail body behind his. “Bucky stop, whats your problem?” He stopped midway the park, way past the bus sign that interlaced with a fork for the park. letting go of her hand he jerked back and blew. 

“Everyday, all I can think about is making you my mate and filling you with pups. It pisses me off that all you talk about is that good for nothing Alpha.” His roar was terrifying, his arms flinging around like he was ready to strike, his brows knitted together if one would look from afar it would seem he was losing it all. 

The winds breeze blew away whatever scent she was giving off, fear, love, sadness… He was never good at reading the women species. And it scared him now that he didn’t know what else to say, he had loved her way before she met Ted, and was on his way to confess his feelings until he walked in on the couple relaxing from their heat and rut. He never spoke to her normally from that day on, always ignoring her and walking away from her while she was mid sentence. It seemed all his pent up aggression had finally met its peak.  So he stood waiting for her to move.

“You… Since when?” Her reply was out of genuine curiosity, She had found Ted as a last minute resort for her Alpha because she felt as though she needed one. Steve had Sharon who was an amazing mate, and Bucky would always come over to Steve’s little home smelling like another women each night. And some nights, she would catch a whiff of more then one scent. So was the rest of her friends, they all had someone. 

“Since forever, Doll.” Bucky grumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t matter lets get you home.” He reached for he forearm, in a manner to get her moving his way and end the day.

“No,” She rubbed the pad of her foot on the dirty road of the park and stood her ground, squaring her arms over her chest and glaring at Bucky, “If you’ve loved me for ever then why come home smelling like every Omega in town?” 

“They never meant anything, (Y/N)-”

“Their still Omegas who thought they had a chance with you, What makes me any different?” 

“Because I love your scent, so much it drives me into my rut every other day. Your driving me nuts (Y/N)-”

“That’s no excuse-” She should have just shut up when she had the chance and not argue with an Alpha, because that’s dangerous, Bucky was the biggiest Alpha she had ever seen.

“Shut it Omega-” His voice was deep, commanding and showed no signs of space for her to argue her half. “Lets get you back home, before it gets dark.”

“Bucky-”

“Move Omega-”

“Bucky-”

“Omega.” He warned dangerously, pointing to the nearest exit of the forest in the park. 

“I love you,” She screeched, Cutting him off from his thoughts. “I have loved you way before T-”

“Don’t say his shitty name,” Bucky grumbled, getting closer to her form and wrapping her up in his arms, “Lets go to Steve’s and figure us out.”

“Your home, Bucky.” She begged, Steve’s little apartment was the best home she could ever ask for, but it always smelled like the leading Lady of the couple. 

“Our home,” Bucky corrected, letting his forehead rest over hers. their nose touching, while their hands intertwined together. 

“Our home,” She chanted, giggling at the end. 

A/N: Excuse any mistakes. 

Enjoy more of my: masterlist

Permanent Tag List: @coffeeismylife28 @archer-whovian-violinist@heismyhunter @fandommaniacx   @smilexcaptainx @damnbuckyishot@xaivierkun @solsticestorm @heyitsarial@killer-stiles@gingerbatchwife @coffeeismylife28 @themistsofmyavalon@shamvictoria11 @my-jekyll-doesnt-hide @heyitsarial@thelovablesociopath-blog @itsemz @slashheartlover@solsticestorm@crazybarnes @satanssmuts @caitsymichelle13 @all-the-kings-horses@peatit  @flibertigibbet23 @ofmiceandmusicsworld   @crownie-sr @nylalushlifexx @marrvelle @ghostssss

THE LAST DANCE – SEBASTIAN STAN X READER SMUT ONE SHOT

Summary: Sebastian Stan takes dance lessons. He wants to impress his beloved woman (reader). One day he comes back home really late. His girlfriend awaits, really angry that he’s late again. She asks him to show her what he had taught at lessons, so he agrees. It ends in obvious way…

Word Count: 1999

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex

Author: Beast

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Because Jesus and Daryl are apparently ruining my life now, here are ~600 words of not-so-forced bed sharing and cuddles.

“You can stay with us tonight. I’ll take the couch.”

Daryl lay there in the dark for minutes or hours, thinking about the last time he’d washed blood from his hair. He’d watched it swirl down the drain of the shower in Jesus’ trailer. After, Jesus gave him clothes and a bed and curled up on the floor beside it. Before sleep came to take him, Daryl had wanted to roll over and invite him in.

Now, he couldn’t push the thoughts from his mind. Jesus upstairs, curled up in the bed Daryl hadn’t slept in for weeks. He wondered if the sheets smelled musty, and then he couldn’t stop wondering. He would just go check, just in case. Offer Jesus a new set from the hall closet and then return to the couch in the living room.

Jesus was awake with the door half open when Daryl knocked.

“You can come in, Daryl.” Daryl knew he was smiling before he could even see Jesus’ face.

“Just wanted to see if you needed anything.” Daryl clicked the door shut behind him.

“Yeah,” Jesus said, casually leaning against the headboard, “I can’t sleep either.”

Daryl hesitated in the doorway, then realized waiting for an invitation into his own room was ridiculous. He took the armchair in the corner. In the lamplight, Jesus was half in shadow on the bed.

“You worried about what’s going to happen?” Jesus asked.

“Nah. We got the guns.” Daryl thought of Dwight languishing in his cell and resisted the urge to laugh. “They should be worried about us.”

There was another long stretch of silence. Daryl watched Jesus fold his hands across his belly in the half-light. His toes flexed against the covers.

“You can have your bed back if you really want it.”

“S’alright,” Daryl said, standing and making his way to the door.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Come on. This bed is a lot bigger than the one in my trailer.”

Daryl paused with his back turned, then actually started blushing. Before he could talk himself out of it, Jesus was making room for him on the bed, and Daryl was squeezing himself into one tight corner, nearly falling from the edge.

“Better, right?”

Daryl reached over and clicked off the lamp, hiding his blush in the dark. “I’ve slept on worse.”

Jesus laughed. “Have you ever let your guard down? Just wondering.”

“Have you?”

“I thought that’s what I was doing when I invited you into this bed.”

Daryl turned his head, but couldn’t see Jesus through the dark. He turned on his side then, away from Jesus, and closed his eyes. He was busy thinking about the last time anyone had held him close in the dark, years and years ago, when Jesus reached out a hand.

“Daryl,” he said, touching Daryl’s shoulder with the tips of his fingers. He shifted closer and flattened his palm. “Is this okay?”

Daryl didn’t speak, but shifted back toward the contact. Jesus moved his hand lower, slinked his arm around Daryl’s waist, and Daryl pressed his whole body into Jesus’ warmth. Jesus was smaller than him, but Daryl felt entirely surrounded, bound by the safety of the arm pulling tighter around his middle.

“If you want me to stop, I will,” Jesus breathed against Daryl’s neck.

“No,” Daryl choked out. “Don’t stop.”

Daryl slept soundly after that, dreams quiet and calm for the first time in years. For once, there was no blood. Only Jesus wrapped around his back, warm against his shoulders, their fingers tangling together on top of the covers.

under the heavy darkness of the middle of the night, magnus found himself half awake in a flickering way almost like a flip book. the warmth of sleep was still coating him, making his limbs slow underneath the duvet and he felt solid, like a wall of exhaustion. but something had shifted, moved, pulling him from the fluid feeling of dreams into the slightly sharper world of reality.

sleep warmed blankets were still pressed close to his face, catching every single one of his breaths, but there was something missing. he heard the shift of limbs out of the covers from a distance, as though he was hearing it underneath the waves. sleep dunked over him again, his mind slipping at the edges of consciousness as he searched the sheets idly for alec’s body, even though he knew, he wouldn’t find him.

it was that middle place then, that place somewhere between heartbeats and heavy breathing. he was soaked in that feeling of being almost asleep, mind registering tiny details not quite perfectly. he could hear the quiet sound of water trickling, a steady stream and then it slowed down, but he was lost in dreams or memories. alec’s mouth on his neck, sucking at the line of his jaw. alec’s hand between his legs as he whispered things into his mouth. something about a meeting tomorrow but it was so fuzzy he could barely pull it to the forefront. all he knew was that he felt so heavy, his muscles like lead, but still his consciousness was waiting.

soon enough the blankets shifted, a soft grunt as alec’s slightly cooled body tried to find it’s way back to where it had been moments before. but magnus didn’t let him try very long. he made a low noise, reaching out and grabbing at alec’s body, fingers sliding over his skin and sinking into the coarse hair of his stomach as he tugged him closer, his movements inelegantly sleepy.

magnus felt alec’s cold feet push underneath his legs and maybe another time he would have made a noise of displeasure, but now he could only sigh at the pleased noise alec made reverberating through his chest. magnus returned it, pushing his face and his mouth into alec’s cheek, pressing his body closer until he was nearly enveloping him. and then within seconds, magnus could feel himself drift, the feeling of sleepy tangled limbs and his own skin warming alec’s sending him straight back to sleep. he was distantly aware of alec’s fingertips pushing into his hair and his mouth pressing damp kisses to his forehead.

The Dice Game

Summery: Valentine’s Day Fun Times

Triggers: Smut, oral (receiving and giving), penetrative sex

Word Count: 1600+

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day guys. This year I didn’t think I would get a card, but my mystery man turned up once again. I hope i find out who he is at some point. Kinda based off this game.

Originally posted by fvckmxk

It was Valentine’s Day and, finally, you weren’t alone. You and Bucky had been dating since you first went to the compound as an intern. He was always very shy and left the room when you would enter. Since you had a thing for him, he was very visually stimulating, you’d ask Steve why. Usually he would just pass it off as a coincidence.

But one day you heard them talking. Bucky then revealed that he also had a crush on you and - after running into you and finding out you had overheard the conversation - you had been dating ever since.

At first, Bucky didn’t like too much physical contact. It was understandable. He said he didn’t want to hurt you. But after weeks of getting more and more comfortable with each other, you finally spent the night together. Even after 70 years without a relationship he was the best you ever had.

Now it was Valentine’s Day. Bucky had just taken you out for a fancy dinner, he told you to get all dolled up for him. And, from the look on his face, he liked it. The thing he didn’t know about was the red lingerie you wore underneath. All throughout dinner you wore a sly smile knowing the night was going to be eventful.

‘I can’t get the keys in the door’ Bucky moaned against your lips. After dinner things had heated up in the taxi home. Right now, your legs were wrapped around his waist, hiking up the dress you hid your underwear with. You stopped kissing him and attacked his neck, trying to suck a dark red patch. His new found freedom allowed him to open the door and you fell though. The door shut behind you and he began stripping you down.

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