Originally posted by jypnior

  • goofy babes
  • you’re always giggling together and having a good time
  • he’s suddenly super (DUPER!!!) outgoing and loud when you’re around
  • he either feels free when he’s around you
  • or he wants to impress you
  • he’d be a touchy boyfriend,
  • VERY handsy
  • he’d also be the type of boyfriend to be completely okay with checking your teeth for food or lipstick
  • “hey,” would have a new meaning between the two of you because most of the time you’d follow with turning to him or sitting on his lap and smiling like a dork hoping that he’d fix whatever was going on in your mouth
  • that got specific
  • happily accepting his invites to MV shoots or other things
  • he loves having you around
  • he lowkey pictures what your children would look like
  • allows you to pluck his eyebrows when needed.
  • plucks yours if you ask
  • showering together or not showering at all
  • taking care of him as well
  • B E S T spooning in the world whether he be big spoon or little spoon
  • when big spoon; his chin/mouth is glued to your shoulder!! his arm is draped over your body as he sleepily hangs onto the remote control to the tv
  • as a little spoon; Youngjae has your hands tightly intertwined with his and brought up to his lips. sleepily, his lips are puckered and kissing your hands.
  • loves involving you in his artistic endeavours!!
  • his phone background would be a pic he took of you and coco
  • you also posted the picture to your instagram
  • surprises you with coffee or pastries at work
  • surprising you at work
  • then you surprise him while he’s working and he reacts as if it’s the first time someone has ever done something nice EVER
  • really close with each other’s family and/or close friends
  • picking up some of his mannerisms and having the other members point it out
  • dancing together in either one of your bedroom
  • jumping on the bed together
  • youngjae trying to hit a high note in an I.U song and falling to his knees on the bed trying to catch his breath
  • cupping his faCE TO KISS HIM when calming him down
  • being there for him if he’s feeling anxious about a performance
  • kissing him before he goes on stage
  • Yugyeom giggling and following Youngjae onto the stage after the kiss
  • giving him backHUGS
  • you’re both always in #backhug mode if you’re chilling in a room together (and standing)
  • like magnets
  • tending to his hair if it’s out of place
  • being adored by the public +  iGOT7s
  • he’d be the type of boyfriend to put up with you squishing his cheeks together and playing with his face
  • he’d just love being that close and intimate with you

-Admin Mars

anonymous asked:

Hello! Can I get some headcanons for the Paladins with an s/o who has curly hair? Like are they curious about their hair care routine, do they play with it a lot etc. Thanks! <3


  • Will be touching it all the time. Like from the day he met you his hands were in your hair.
  • He just finds it so lovely and bouncy and beautiful.
  • Whenever he’s bored he’ll have her sit down in front of him and he’ll play with it. Growing up with sisters, some of which with equally curly hair, he’ll know a few hairstyles that he likes to put your hair in.
  • Most of the time he puts it into two twin french braids going down your back.
  • You actually end up asking him to do your hair on multiple occasions because he does it so well. I mean, who else will put your hair into a flawless bun and make out with you afterwards?
  • Will ask about your hair routine because your hair is so beautiful??? Like how???


  • Is so fascinated by your hair because it’s so majestic to him, like it looks like a lion’s mane of gorgeous full curls.
  • He honestly always plays with your hair subconsciously while cuddling. It’s just so calming to him and the strands feel so soft on his hands.
  • Loves to twist the curls around his finger, letting them bounce back into place once he let them go.
  • Once he tried to braid your hair but it went terribly wrong. There ended up being a giant knot in your hair that wouldn’t come out for weeks.
  • Wouldn’t be too curious about your routine, but loves the smell of your deep conditioner and hair masks.


  • Was instantly captivated when she saw your hair. I mean, it’s so wild and curly but so perfect at the same time.
  • When she was younger she always wanted full curls like yours, and seeing you look like an absolute goddess with them wasn’t helping her childhood desires.
  • Would make fun of your bedhead with no remorse though.
  • She plays with it as a stress reliever. Combing her fingers through your curls and making small braids around your head always helped her relax, especially when she’s missing her longer hair.
  • She actually ends up letting you test out products on her hair, and develops a liking to hair masks. They just make her hair feel so smooth and nice!


  • He grew up around curly hair his entire life, his mother having curls even tighter than yours. That being said, he absolutely adores your hair.
  • It reminds him of home.
  • He’ll play with your hair when he’s feeling particularly homesick, or if you’re about to cook. He’s very strict about keeping your hair up when it comes to food, and he often puts it up himself.
  • Loves to see you in low pigtails too, like they’re so adorable (y/n) please stop you’re going to break this poor kid.
  • Knows the whole routine when it comes to caring for curly hair, and won’t hesitate to give you advice he knows from watching his mother.


  • Who is this goddess?
  • Like literally the first time he saw you he was completely entranced. Like your curls framed your face perfectly you looked like aphrodite in the flesh.
  • He often uses them to calm down after something triggers his PTSD. He’s often a shaking mess, but running his hands through your hair helps bring him back to reality.
  • That and your voice work as calming stimulants that assist him through an attack.
  • Has tried using your mousse once and was super confused when it didn’t hake his hair curly (Shiro hun no that’s not how it works)

I don’t read this often, but it’s still something that’s travelled with me for the past eleven years. Maybe I’m just old in thinking the physicality of an actual letter gives it more emotional weight than an email. Reading this again now makes me think that my coming out experience could’ve been a lot worse. Some of that might just be age, and me forgetting the pain of living through it though. 

Below you’ll find the full letter with parts that sting and others expressing love. The grammar is awkward at times, but I’m fortunate to have an immigrant parent that was able to tell me how she felt, in a language that I understood.

- tumifer / raspelfy

Keep reading

(2) Dating Yuri Plisetsky would include;

Originally posted by nikforovs

Second Version: 

  • For some reason, I see him as a person who is more comfortable doing PDA in private. In public, he won’t mind holdings hands.
  • Loves head massages especially after a rough day.
  • All though there would be awkward moments since he’s inexperienced in relationships.
  • During rainy days most likely to chill while watching movies and playing with Potya. (His cat)
  • Mila teasing both of you and secretly takes photos of both of you because she thinks that your relationship is cute.
  • Nikolai loving and supporting your relationship, and always gives him tips on relationships.
  • Exercising together such as walking, running, and yoga.
  • Secretly has pictures of you in his gallery since he loves to look at them while he’s away.
  • His mobile wallpaper is (Name) and his cat sleeping.
  • He has troubles of how to express himself his love towards to you so to do that he does little things to let you know he cares about you. For example: Making food, saying have a nice day, preparing a bubble bath for you and asking how was your day as he listens to you. All though there will be moments where he needs to say I love you.
  • During Winter both of you is most likely to do: wearing matching lion prints oversized sweaters to wear inside of the house while baking, family dinner (with both of your families), snowboarding, and making snow angels.

Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to Lucasfilm.  

A/N: This is a little ditty is a late submission for han-leia-solo’s Hoth Day.  It fits neatly into the Never Will I Ever Universe.  Way late for Han and Leia week, but isn’t it always Han and Leia week?  

The blast door closes with a shuddering thud.  I feel it judder through my bones as if they are made out of ice just like everything else in this frozen world.  I wonder if they will collapse and shatter like the icicles that fall haphazardly from the ceiling.

It is so cold.  No matter how warmly I try to dress, the cold still seeps in.  It finds a seam or creeps in over your collar.  And there is nothing you can do about your face, save wear a mask.  And masks don’t seem to appeal these days.  

There is nothing to do here now.  There was nothing to do before, but it felt better to be near the door.  A little closer to them.

A few of the men linger, looking at me with concern etched into their expressions.  But it all leaves me cold.  I nod, cordially enough, but not inviting any more of their attention.  

I force my legs to move even though I feel an insistent tug from beyond the impenetrable blast door.  With every step it pulls me more, making my head hurt and my eyes water.  

Could I go out there?  

I run the scenarios in my head, just like I have been doing for the last two hours.  

The boy had rushed in and I had almost missed his words.  My head was still spinning and swimming from that awful fight in the hall.  From that awful man.

A tear slips out from under my control.  It races down my cheek and falls to the floor, startlingly hot against my freezing face.

“General Rieeken!” he called, panting and red from his race, “Captain Solo went out after Skywalker.”

I tried to make sense of this.  Luke was on a scouting mission.  Why would Han go after him?  My heart started beating, hitting a bass rhythm against my throat.

“What do you mean?”  It was my voice, hoarse against the pressure in my windpipe.

“Skywalker never returned.  The sun is going down, sir.  We have to close the base soon.  We tried to tell Solo…”

I was out the door before I heard another word, racing to the hanger.

Of course, there hadn’t been anything to do there but wait.  And think about the alternatives.  I am no soldier.  Not really.  I don’t know how to ride one of those things and I knew I couldn’t convince one of the pilots to take me out in a shuttle.  


The more I think about them the more I feel myself retreat.  Away from the freezing cold.  Away from the harsh work lights and the clang of metal and men.  There’s some quiet space inside and I find some solace in it.  I’ll just stay here for a little while…

I feel a sudden rush of pain and fear.  The pain is so strong, it burns across my face.  My face?  And then snow.  Blissful.  Soft.  No…no…don’t fall asleep.  

But the pain and fear are fading and there is a deadly peace.  It smothers me like a blanket.  I try to push it off, but it clings and sticks until I burst away.  

My head jerks and my eyes catch a few curious gazes.  I should care, I should walk away…

But that quiet space is still there, and I feel drawn to it.  A moth to a silent flame.  

Anger, hot and violent, pulses through me.  My fists clench as I fight against it.  It feels like it will consume me if I don’t.  I push, urging it away, wrestling with it, but it only grows stronger.

I struggle against some invisible bond, I want to open my eyes, to cut this off…and yet.  It feels familiar somehow.  Intimidating but not unfriendly.  Why familiar?  I withdraw, trying to understand and it follows, suddenly curious too.  Then…Oh, Gods.  

My heart suddenly hurts.  It hurts so badly, I think it might break.  Maybe it is broken already.  And suddenly all I want is to make it better.  To soothe, to care for it.  Unbidden, I imagine my hands around it, feeling for the break, gentle, tender.  

I feel the ship behind me, cradling me like a babe, my knees suddenly weakening under the weight of something new.  I’ve never felt anything like it.  I don’t know what to call it but I don’t want to let it go.  It races around my body, leaving warm trails of tingling pleasure in its wake, filling me until I think I might…


I hear it but don’t hear it, an echo on the edge of consciousness.  I can feel myself, slipping away, almost gone, the side of the ship so surprisingly soft.

But you’re not going the right way.  No.  No!  Turn.  Turn, my love.

Turn back.  Turn back.  That’s right.

My head hurts now.  His head.  It throbs in time with my heart in my throat.

Pain.  Cold.  Soft.


A burst of adrenaline and triumph, sweet relief, the wave again crashing over me, into me.

And then I had woken.  Back into the cold, hard world where no one took any notice of me.

The pulling is too much.  By the time I reach my room, I have to lie down to try and dodge it.  But its insistent.  And part of me wants to close my eyes.  I have the odd feeling that if I just closed them, I would be pulled from this room out into the cold world again.

But I don’t close my eyes.  Rather I stare at the ceiling and shiver in terror.

It’s too much.  It’s all too much.

“Han,” I whisper, into the darkness.  To nothing.  To no one.

The tears start again, this time unchecked.  There is no one to see.  No one to care now.

I can see him, superimposed against the inky blackness.  I can see his face contorted in sarcastic dismissal,  I can see it suffused with rage.  Rage?  No.  But anger.  So much anger.  

My arms have found their way around themselves and I curl up on my side facing the wall.  Like so many nights, I feel a phantom with me, slink into the room, sliding formless arms around mine.  I try to shrug it off but I can’t.  I lean back into him, feel his lips against my hair and my neck, hear him whisper into my ear…

“Leia, Leia…”

Always my name, over and over, like a chant.  

I turn to him and look into his hazel eyes.  He’s smiling now, in a way I haven’t seem him smile lately.  Not since Ord Mantell, not since that painfully beautiful afternoon…

“Found you,” he says, as if playing a game.

“But you weren’t looking for me,” I say, trying to understand the logic.

“Wasn’t I?” he asks, with a slight frown.  

“No…” I breathe, not sure why I say it.  I want him to look for me.  I want him to care.

He shakes his head bemusedly, letting it go in that way he does.  

“The important thing is that we’re here,” he says before kissing my forehead.

I think my heart will break.  I think it will burst from joy.

“We aren’t anywhere,” I say even though I want to say so many other things.

He leans down and kisses my chest just above my heart.

“There you are,” he says against it, his warm breath burning me in a strangely pleasing way.

I move my hands to his hair.  His beautiful, soft hair that I feel so often in my dreams, but have never dared to touch in life.  How could I?

He lifts his head and comes closer.  How can there be any closer?  I feel like I can’t breathe.

“Are you proud of me?”  I can feel his words tickle my lips.  

“Yes,” I say, feeling my heart swell.  He is so brave, so fearless.  He makes me feel so safe.

“Do you want me?”  His cheek is against mine, rough and soft all at once.  I run my hands down his neck, past his shoulders, to his back.  I pull him hard against me.

“Always,” I am drunk on him.  I was hooked on my first sip.  

It seems I am about to take another.  His face is in front of me again, floating in the dark.  

“Do you love me?”  

I pitch forward, suddenly falling, scrambling against my sheets and flailing to regain my balance.  In a moment, I realize I am just on my bed.  The world has not tilted, gravity is still in tact.

But I am not.  


I scrub my face with my hands.


I crawl under the covers.


I listen for the sound of voices outside my room.


I hear nothing.


I shake my head, scrunching my eyes closed, willing myself to disappear.

But there is no where to go.  No where to run from what is in my heart.  I imagine cutting it out, digging in with a spoon and scooping the bloody remnants onto the pure white snow.

I hate him.  I hate him with every fiber of my being.  I hate him so much it almost feels like…

But then I remember the snow.  And the ice.  And the night outside.  There are a thousand ways to die in a night like that.  Which one would he choose?  

I consider each one.  I keep count.  I am up to eight hundred and seventy two when my comlink crackles and a voice pierces the deafening silence.

“Princess Leia, Skywalker and Solo have been recovered.  They’ve just arrived.”

My body shakes as I inch into a sitting position.  I rise so slowly, I almost give up and fall back.  But I grab for the door and it supports me enough to allow me to stand.  My head aches.  Everything aches.

But, the pull is back.  And it is so strong.  It draws me from my room, it drags me through the passage, it makes the chilly mourning wind rush by me as I streak through the hanger.

Luke looks bad.  So very bad.  He is silent, leaving me feeling empty inside, reaching for nothing.  Then they take him away and I am almost glad.  I can’t look at his empty form.

It takes me a flick to realize what I’m seeing now.  He’s straight across from me, standing in a snow jacket, chest heaving, hands on his knees.

I’ve never seen him like that.  Usually he is so cool.  

I imagine, in one dizzy moment, taking those hands and putting them on me.  Pushing myself against him until I can’t tell where he ends and I begin, losing myself in him and never resurfacing.  I can feel what it would be like, a sea of something warm and lovely.  I can almost break the surface, feeling very little resistance…

Then he smirks and I burn.  I burn so hot I feel like I might catch on fire.

I am walking to him, seeing red, needing to touch him so badly that I…


Your Hands Are Mine To Hold

Pairing: Barry/Iris

Rated M

Words: 697

Summary: Iris loves Barry’s hands. There is mention of sexy times, not really smut, and nothing super explicit. 

She loves his hands.

Loves how they are so much bigger than hers. Loves how long his fingers are. How strong and steady they are. But also that they can be oh so gentle and soft.

She loves when they are sitting next to each other on the couch and they won’t even be looking at each other and his hand reaches for hers. His fingers will skim along the back of her hand and they’ll easily slide between her fingers. And despite the fact that hers are much smaller than hers they fit perfectly together. His hand will squeeze hers and she’ll squeeze right back.

Sometimes when she’s feeling vulnerable the simple touch of his hand will make it better. When he holds her hand she draws strength from his touch and she’s ready to face anything that comes her way. When she’s afraid and her hands shake it’s his touch, his hands that steady her, that still her shaking.

He loves to frame her face in both of his hands. Palms warm against her cheeks, thumbs rubbing gently along her skin sometimes those same thumbs will wipe away her tears when she cries. But mostly she loves the warmth, the feel of his hands on her face making her feel so loved and safe.

Sometimes when she doesn’t want to look him in the eyes he’ll use his fingers to tilt up her chin so she can meet his eyes. Other times he’ll take her chin between his thumb and forefinger firmly and lift it up in a slightly commanding way that somehow still manages to be gentle.

When he holds her in his arms one hand always tangles in her hair sometimes holding her head in place against his chest other times his fingers will stroke through her hair soothing her. The other hand will rub circles on her back to keep her calm.

His hands can be soft and gentle but they can also teasing.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Is silverflint canon?

Hello Anon friend,

I believe I’ve seen someone else in fandom give a really excellent response to this question, but I’m currently unable to find it, so you’ll have to bear with me here.

We have not seen Silver and Flint’s mouths touching yet on the show.  However, for a show that het-baited us for a season and a half, I, personally consider this fact to be indicative of absolutely nothing.  Flint is canonically queer.  Silver is canonically ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (TBD).  We have one more season left to see whether the writers feel the romance with the same passion as we shippers do.

What is, however, canon is that they have one of the most finely written, meticulously developed, endlessly fascinating, genuinely close relationships between two men that I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing on TV.  Whether or not they end up in bed together in canon is almost secondary (that’s what fanfic is for).  Their relationship exists and is meaningful and impactful regardless of whether their mouths ever touch.  No canon, Black Sails or Treasure Island, is going to rip Silverflint out of my cold, dead hands.

Love and kisses

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

Polyamory, With Knives

Just because you fell in love with the river
doesn’t mean you must feed it your bones.

You can take new lovers. Wine, for instance.
And bread. Difficult shoes. Little blue pills.

The first boy’s knife. The bowie, the buck,
the chef’s. Switch, pocket, butcher, butter.

You can submerge in a hotel bath, drainage
ditch, Newton Creek, East River. The sea.

Eat the whole pan of lasagna. The entire box
of Thin Mints. You can go down in mimosas.

You can lose yourself in Clifton, or Sexton,
Walker, Hooks, Rich, Atwood. Or Hughes.

Even the boxer whose poems sewed you shut.
Whose hands pulled you from the red red tub.

The boy who became boxer who became
man who became poet who became husband.

Yes, you can love the river. The knife. The pills.
The wine. You can love a thousand lonelinesses.

You can love the man and each of his hands.
Love the brine and the meat and all the tiny ruins.

– jeanann verlee