her face just lights up when she says his name :)

the neighborly thing to do

Written for @rebelcaptainprompts #12 - Distraction. 

Read it on ao3

Cassian wasn’t the type to get to know his neighbors. That’s not to say he was impolite. He’d nod in the courtyard and lend people sugar and sign for a package if need be. Other than that, he didn’t feel the need to befriend any of these people.

Until he sees the new girl moving into 102, right next door to him.

He’s immediately distracted from the work in his hand.

It’s not just that she’s cute. (She’s definitely cute.) There’s just something about her that pulls at him. Maybe it’s the combat boots or the “rebel” shirt. Maybe it’s her bright green eyes, or the fact that she’s moving in completely on her own. Either way, he feels the need to offer to help.

“I can manage just fine on my own,” she huffs at him, after he finally gets her attention.

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rosemoonweaver  asked:

How about #131?

”This is an apology pizza. Please take it or I will start crying right here.”

(Uh, I better figure out how to make these shorter…I’m a bit verbose.)


“Dean?” The knock at his bedroom door sounded terrified, if that was possible; the voice tentatively saying his name definitely carried more than a little fear, along with trembling anxiety. Dean didn’t say anything, and not just because speaking moved muscles that didn’t like being moved.

The door creaked open a sliver, letting a wedge of lamplight from the hall spill onto the floor of his darkened room. Charlie poked her head through the crack, backlighting throwing her face into shadow. He didn’t need light to know that her eyes were enormously wide, full of guilt. When she saw him sitting up against his headboard, she gulped, almost audibly, before opening the door the rest of the way and stepping inside. Her hands were gripping a wide, flat box in front of her, like a shield.

The way he ought to have gripped his own, really.

“So, this is an apology pizza. Please take it or I will start crying right here,” she said, trying for a light tone. It failed miserably.

He sighed, waving for her to sit down. She dropped onto the foot of the bed, shoulders high with tension. “Can’t really…” he gestured toward the box, then toward his face. “But thanks.”

“Is it really that bad? I can’t see, what with the lights off,” she said, a nervous laugh trying to escape. Dean huffed, then reached over to the lamp on his bedside table. When he clicked it on, Charlie sucked in a breath. He knew exactly what she was seeing: his nose was swollen enormously, bloodied across the bridge, and both his eyes were blackened as though he had gone several rounds with Mike Tyson.

“Oh, Dean,” Charlie whimpered. It was the sympathetic, guilty tears in her eyes, almost ready to spill, that finally made him shake his head and gesture for her to come closer and curl under his arm.

“Not your fault, your highness,” he grumbled. “I should have known better than to underestimate you on the field of combat. I dropped my shield, going for the win, and I deserved what I got.”

“No, but it was an accident!” Charlie protested. “I mean, yeah, I’m pretty badass with a blade, but I was just lifting it to go for a downward strike–I wasn’t trying to catch you in the face with the pommel, I swear!” The LARP blades they’d been using for their mock fight had been mostly foam and lightweight PVC, but the pommel that had broken Dean’s nose was reinforced with heavier materials.

“Accidents happen. I’ll heal,” Dean reassured her. It was true, and he couldn’t stay mad.

“But your date!” she cried. “You were only out there in the first place because of your nerves about tonight!”

And that was the rub. After almost a year of dancing around his own nerves, Dean had finally worked up the courage to ask out the gorgeous guy who’d stolen his breath when he’d first seen him in the cafeteria at work. Castiel worked in a different department, and with only lunch hours to get to know him (and be intimidated as hell by each new impressive, awesome thing he learned about him), Dean was amazed and shocked that he’d actually managed to ask Cas out for drinks, and that Cas had actually agreed.

But now…

“Yeah, probably should have just gone for a jog or something,” Dean said with a grimace, which was followed by a wince of pain.

“You know, it’s only 5:45,” Charlie said hesitantly. “You haven’t actually missed the date yet. You could still–”

“No, no way,” Dean said firmly. “I look ridiculous, and Cas is…he’s not the kind of guy who I want seeing me like this.” Castiel was always so collected and cultured; next to him, Dean felt like a clumsy doof on his best days. “I texted him and told him I was sick. Hopefully, he’ll give me a raincheck. If not…” He frowned, not wanting to think about it.

Charlie made a pained sound, and he pulled her closer. They sat quietly for a little while, ignoring the pizza. Then sounds from outside his door startled Dean out of his black thoughts. Sam was talking to somebody, and they were getting closer.

“…see what I mean,” Sam was saying. “Go on, it’s fine.” And before Dean could protest, his door was opening, and Sam was standing in the doorway, with Castiel beside him. Cas was holding a pharmacy bag, looking baffled. When his eyes fell on Dean, his eyes widened.

“Sam,” Dean groaned. Too late, Cas was crossing the floor, dropping the bag as he moved. He caught Dean’s face in his hands, tilting it from side to side.

“Yell at me later, Dean,” Sam said. “I told you to go to the ER, and you wouldn’t. You had a date planned with an actual ENT doctor anyway, and when he showed up, I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean said, wincing as fingers prodded at the bruises. This was a nightmare. Charlie had crawled off the bed and was watching with mouth slightly open in surprise.

“You work in hematology, Dean. If you had a blood disorder, I’d yield to your expertise. This is mine.” Appearing satisfied for the moment, Cas let his hands slip from Dean’s cheekbones around to the sides of his face. “But I’d say that in this case, you’re probably correct. I would probably skip the pizza, however.”

“It’s an apology pizza,” Charlie mumbled. Cas turned to her, raising a brow inquisitively. “I hit him in the face with a sword.”

Cas barked a shocked laugh. “What kind?”

“Boffer longsword.”

Cas chuckled. “I didn’t know you did live-action role play, Dean. It’s been ages, but I think I still have my monk garb somewhere in the basement. Though I believe this is better treated with an ice pack than leeches.”

Dean had no idea how it happened, but somehow, he found himself wedged between his best friend and his crush, listening to them discuss costumes, battles, and festivals…and it was perfect.

Except for the awesome-smelling pizza, which he was too sore to eat. But it would keep. He snuggled into his pillow and did his best to smile.

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(@rosemoonweaver)

anonymous asked:

Bucky wants his daughter's first word to be his name, so he is always chanting "Bucky, dada" when he's with her. One day, she starts getting close to saying a word, so Bucky calls everyone in to witness it. His daughter's face lights up, and she starts squealing. "Fah-co, fah-co!" Bucky gets pissed and glares at Sam. He covers up his daughter's ears and hisses "Damn it Wilson!" Sam just shrugs and gives him a smug smirk.

“Good girl” Sam says kissing her forehead. 

“Get away from my baby!” Bucky says. 

Daddy Wednesday™

The J-Hope joke. {Smut}

Originally posted by you-got-noo-jams

With all the busy and crazy schedule that BTS has, it wasn’t easy for Hobi to maintain his relationship in a good pace and still make things at work functioning, yet - as usual - he did a pretty decent job doing both things at the same time. 

Even thought things were going smooth nowadays, they still had little time to be together - making every moment count for something romantic and cute. Well, at least when they were around people. Hoseok was always a passionate guy towards her and the way he touched her when they were alone was enough to show that. 

On that particular day, she was missing him so much. He just came home from his successful tour in North and South America and they already started to put things for the Asian leg of the tour in motion. It was hard to take a time to themselves and Namjoon was making things even harder for Hoseok and his girlfriend. 

“I can’t believe you really came,” he said opening the door so she could enter. 

She just shrugged, kissing the tip of his nose when entering the dorm. 

“You’re lucky that they’re all sleeping. We have to stay in the living room, Taehyung and Jimin were playing and they slept in our room.” Hope said and she agreed. 

She made her way to the living room, being followed by a half asleep Hoseok. They both sat on the couch, side by side. 

“Well…” he kissed her, didn’t wanting to wait for her to say anything.

“You read my mind” she smiled, when he stopped the kiss for a moment, taking her overcoat and revealing that she was only wearing her silk nightdress.

“Y/N!” Hope was surprised “I can’t believe you came all the way here in that cold storm of snow only just that…”

“And I can’t believe that instead of kissing me and taking me off this, you’re questioning how I came here… really, Hoseok?!” she kissed him again, but this time more passionately. 

His hands started to go down from her waist to her ass, implying that yes - he was finally getting the spirit of that sexy surprise she did for him. 

“The other boys can hear…” he said, with a husky voice against her ear while she started to take his pants off. 

“I don’t mind if you don’t” she smiled, laying him on the couch - making sure he would have a nice view. 

Even after all the time together, it was still nice to have the feeling of him inside her - she missed that, with all the rush - and she made sure to show him how pleasing he was being, riding him hard and making almost painful for Hoseok to control himself. 

She, on another hand, was having the time of her life. At hit her climax a little earlier than him, screaming his stage name out of pleasure. 

It was only when the lights of the living room went on - revealing Y/N laying on top of Hoseok’s chest - that they realized that it was too loud. 

Namjoon was in his pajamas and Yoongi - wrinkled face - standing by his side, hand on the light switch. 

“Can’t believe this is happening. Again. Please, get dress before the kids wake up.” Yoongi said before leaving the room.

Namjoon just sighed before saying: “Well, don’t come at me complaining about the ‘J-HOOOOOPE’ joke when she screams like that ever again." 

Midnight Mumbles [4]

[F/Name] tried to wiggle from her future husband’s grasp but he held her close, kissing the back of her neck.

It was just yesterday that he had proposed to her. Suspecting Thomas, she thought it would be some grand announcement in front of thousands. Hell, even on national TV.

But, alas, he did not. It was actually romantic in one of her favorite spots. They took their horses out on an early morning trail ride when the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Her favorite time of day.

They reached the end of their gallop across an open field, tying the horses to a low branch so they can graze and sat on the bank of the lake behind the estate.

Thomas pulled out a small purple velvet box -of course- and showed her favorite gem encrusted in a rose gold band inside the box. The way he presented the ring to her, the monologue, and the scenery caused tears to escape from her eyes.

She held out her hand, the band shining in the light of the rising sun. Thomas’ hand reached up, the same ring -just with a purple gem in the hold- on his finger and closed his hand around hers.

“It took a while,” he mumbled, the sleep in his voice just made it sexier, “but I finally have you.”

[F/Name] rolled her eyes. “I sound like an object.”

She squeaked when his teeth sunk gently into her shoulder. “You know exactly what I mean. I can finally say that -to rub it in Hamilton’s face- I’m marrying my high school crush,” he growled at her lightly.

[F/Name] squeezed her hand out of his and rolled over to face him. She was immediately attacked with face kisses.

“Alright. Okay!”

She made a febble attempt to push him with the results -of course- being him getting more aggressive with his kisses.

“We have to get up,” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss. “Mother wants to get your measurements for the dress.”

[F/Name] blinked. “You just proposed yesterday.”

Thomas chuckled. “Oh sweetheart. Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead.

“Welcome to the family.”

I’ve got a latte for…

*click through to read on ao3

written by: @goldenheadfreckledheart | Lexi

prompt: ‘You give me a different fake name every time you come into the coffee shop and I just want to know your real name bc you’re cute but here I am scrawling “batman” onto your stupid cappuccino’ for anonymous

word count: 3751

Bellamy loves his stupid coffee shop. He loves the way it smells, he loves the way it feels—warm, without forcing it—and he loves his obnoxious coworkers, even if Miller is perpetually snarky and Raven is perpetually smarter than him and smug about it.

He does not, as it were, love it when his cute, blonde regular comes in and keeps refraining from using her real name.

Or, rather, he likes that she comes in. Less that he doesn’t know her name.

He knows it’s never her real name, too, because it’s not like she just uses different, generic names each time. Instead he gets told, on a nearly daily basis, to scrawl the name of a different fictional character on a paper cup. She had a Harry Potter streak last week, names ranging from the golden trio to more obscure characters whose names he doesn’t know how to spell. (Ask him how he feels about Xenophilius.)

The first time she came in, it was Aerith which, he supposes, could be her name, except he wagers the chance of finding someone whose parents named their child after a Final Fantasy character is pretty slim this early into the twenty-first century. As it is, he’s just kind of embarrassingly psyched to find someone who’s into his favorite video game franchise.

He scrawls the name on her cup, without comment—because somehow he thinks that makes him seem cool? He can hear Octavia’s disappointed sigh already—and catches her slight look of surprise at his lack of response. She pays with cash, as he’ll come to realize is her norm, and moves down the counter to wait for her drink.

Keep reading

Starbucks

She pulls them into the motel lot and they beeline for Starbucks. If Frank notices, or minds, he doesn’t say anything. He trails inside after her, getting a filter coffee, black, and they take the only table available, scrunched in the corner away from the window.

“What would you have said if they’d asked for your name?” she asks, as they sit. She’s never seen Frank in a chain coffee shop, before. She’s fairly sure - make that certain - that he doesn’t give a damn where his coffee comes from, but still, seeing him here feels- incongruent.

He has his hands arched in front of him, elbows on the table, and he gives her a look.

“Frank,” he says, as if it’s simple.

“Just like that?” A surprised laugh is caught in the words and she sits back in her seat, hands falling to her lap. “You’re not worried you’ll be recognised, or anything?”

“All the way out here?” He makes a sound in his throat and his eyes flick to the window, somehow managing to dismiss the whole town with a glance. “‘Sides. Makes it easier to keep track. No awkward moments when you give the wrong name.”

She hides a smile with a sip of drink, the practicality of that tickling her. “Okay. What should I call you, then?”

He reaches into his coat pocket, and tosses something - his wallet - in front of her, his attention on the window and the coffee in his free hand. She picks it up immediately, too curious for her own good. The wallet is as utilitarian as he is: thin, black, unobtrusive. Velcro rips as she opens it. She smothers another inappropriate urge to giggle.

She flicks it open, looking for the ID in the inside flap and suddenly she’s choking on air.

“Francis Smith?”

“Does the job,” he says, as if it’s not some kind of ridiculous, and she can’t help it - she laughs.

“You couldn’t - you couldn’t have chosen something else?

“Why.”

He’s cultivated his deadpan to the point whether she’s not certain if he’s serious or messing with her (probably both), and so she just laughs again, pulling the driver’s licence out of the wallet. Frank’s face glowers back up at her, just recognisable under the beard. The card even looks real.

She twists it under the light, admiring. “How did you even-?”

“I have a uh, contact,” he says, and he’s watching her when she looks up, a bemused twist at the corner of his mouth. He looks away before she can holds his gaze, his hands collecting around his take away cup, but the hint of a smile doesn’t shift. “Handy with that sort of thing.”

She hums, packing the card away and sliding his wallet back across the table. “Sounds useful. They have a name?”

“Micro.”

That he’d actually answered jolts her. She’d meant it as a tease; Frank had always been firm about the limits of their cooperation, but if he notices his slip he gives no sign, rocking back in his seat. He swipes at his nose, in that habitual way of his that masks how he cases the area and the amused glance he shoots her way. “And no, I’m not giving you two an introduction.”

She hums, as she’s expected to, and slides the card and wallet back, returning her hands to her side of the table.

She knows what she’s supposed to say next. She says it, finishing their script. “Not yet.

He makes an amused sound this time, hummed deep in his throat. “Sure.”


Cut this from a story I’m writing as it wasn’t going anywhere… worth a smile, at least?

War Drabbles Part V (Part I)


His mother looked completely baffled and a bit concerned as she stared her son down in the dim light of the corridor.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Would she be here if I wasn’t?” he replied, trying to mask his anger and discomfort with the way the conversation had gone. “I’m positive she’s a Malfoy, and if you would have taken a moment to look at her instead of thinking the worst of me you’d have seen the resemblance.”

Her posture softened. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t…I shouldn’t have assumed anything, but you know how precarious things are at the moment. I’ve hardly seen your face lately, let alone spent and time with you. How am I to know how much you’ve changed? When I saw her I just jumped to conclusions.”

Taking a moment to look at it from his mother’s perspective, he could understand that. That didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt, though.

“Well, I can assure you, mother, that despite the blood on my hands, I’m still very much the son you raised.”

The statement seemed to relax her further as she took a step forward, shortening the distance between them. “You have no idea how much of a relief that is to hear.” She smiled and he tried his hardest to give her a small one in return.  “So, who is she? How long have you known about her?”

“Her name is Rhea and I just found out about her existence today. Her mother…it’s been years since I’ve seen her. She is in a rather tight spot and asked me to look after her. I saw her face and I couldn’t turn her away.”

She tapped her chin in thought. “Is her mother a prostitute?”

He paused. It would be a decent lie. “Yes…”

“That’s fine. We can work around it. There will be questions, of course, but we can say you had a fling with a French girl, a pureblood from a low family, and that she recently died, giving you custody of her only daughter.” She was taking this a lot better than he expected. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh, apologies. It’s just…I thought you’d be rather cross to learn that I’ve sired a half-blood child out of wedlock. I was expecting quite a row.”

“The circumstances aren’t ideal I agree, especially now, but you’re my son. I would care for any child you fathered, regardless of the mother’s status.”

For the first time since Hermione had waltz back into his life, he felt the tension inside of him wane. “I’m glad you feel that way because I’ll need help. I don’t…I don’t know anything about raising a child.”

“You’ll do fine, darling,” she reassured him. “But you will have my support and guidance. I promise you that.”

“What of Father? Do you think I’ll have a problem with him?”

“Let me worry about your father.” She told him, patting the side of his face. “You just focus on that little girl.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, go. She is probably in a fright. We will talk more about this in the morning. I’d like to officially meet my Granddaughter at a decent hour and in decent lighting.”

And with that she turned from him, disappearing back the way she came, her night robes fluttering behind her.

After her departure, he made his way to the kitchens where he found a very confused house elf and a pouty four year old sitting at the table.  

“Wimsy isn’t familiar with that dish either, Little Miss.” The elf was saying as he entered.

The little girl spun around in her seat, her face lighting up a bit when she saw him. “Daddy,” The name still sent a confusing rush through him and he almost stopped in his tracks. “Mr. Wimsy doesn’t know how to make anything.”

“That’s not true, Little Miss. Wimsy knows lots of recipes. Even ancient recipes passed down for generations. He just doesn’t know what this Bangers and Mash is.”

Draco came to a stop in front of the little girl and crouched down so he was more or less at eye level with her. “Rhea, things are a bit different here. The food may not be what you’re used to.”

“Oh,” she looked disappointed for a second but then smiled. “What do you eat then, daddy? I want what you get.”

“Let’s start with something light tonight. It’s already late and you need to sleep.” He thought for a moment. She looked like she’d enjoy something sweet like he did. “What about a scone?” he asked her. “Does that sound alright?”

She only nodded so he looked to the elf. “I think a scone will do just fine.”

The Elf bowed slightly. “As you wish, Master.”

Rhea wrinkled her nose. “Why does Mr. Wimsy do that?”

“Why does he do what?”

“Call you master?” She replied plainly. “And he wouldn’t call me Rhea. I told him it was my name. I’m not “Little Miss”.”

Shit

“You see,” He began, thinking of a way to explain, “he is a house elf that works for Daddy’s family. He serves the House of Malfoy so he calls all of us by titles. Master or Mistress, in your case a version of that, Little Miss.”

“Why?”

Why? He’d just explained… 

She’s four, he reminded himself. And she’s lived in poverty until now. He would have to explain everything.

Oh, Merlin. He was in for a long night.

Nightmare

The lights flicker and then go florescent bright and Bellamy is walking down the hallways of the Ark. It’s the sterile brightness of when the Ark was still in space, but the wreckage is still around him. It’s silent. It’s never been this silent. He needs to find Clarke.

She’s there. Not in the Ark, in the safe bunker where they’ve been planning. Bellamy’s there too, now, an easy step from the Ark’s overly bright hallway to the dimmed lights of the white room and there she is. Her back is to him, and suddenly Bellamy is afraid. When he says her name she doesn’t turn around. He does what he always has, when he needs to comfort her, when he needs to comfort himself, he touches her. She turns.

Radiation bubbles over her face, blinds an eye, leaves her scarred and barely alive but she’s just there, looking at him. Half dead, still standing, something he’s never wanted to see and she takes a step towards him.

Bellamy wakes up in a sweat, the noise he hears is half strangled in his throat and he’s already sitting up, fighting against the restraints of the blankets. It takes a second to orient himself, fight the double image of Clarke, burned and scarred with the soft darkness around him. His heart thuds painfully in his chest, his lungs feel too tight. “Fuck,” he whispers, rubbing a hand across his face. Not yet, he tells himself, it hasn’t happened yet.

Won’t happen, he corrects himself and determined, throws off the blankets. When he’s like this, fresh air is his only cure.

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heart scope

He thinks a lot about all the things he will forget, the sound of Remus’s croaky morning voice at breakfast, his mums favourite skirt, how he sits three rows back from the front in Transfiguration because then McGonagall can’t reach out and smack him with her wand from the front.

It’s a horrible feeling, this forgetting. Once he overhears Evangeline Watts talking about her Grandfather and this muggle illness he has which makes him slowly forget everything in his life, whether it matters or not. He’s awake for the entire night later imagining what it would feel like to lose things like that, as if memories were water in cupped hands.

He falls asleep the next day in class and Evans tips half her water bottle down the back of his jumper to wake him up. He yells and gets a detention from Slughorn for swearing while Snape smirks underneath his curtain of grease. He calls him a waste of space later while everyone laughs and Snape burns, cheeks hot and hollow. He doesn’t even know why he hates him so much, probably the muggle hating and pure blood mania. Yup, definitely the muggle hating and pure blood mania.  

The thing is, Evans is apparently oblivious to the muggle hating and pure blood mania, so she hates his guts for calling her best friend worthless even though he is.  It shouldn’t matter that she doesn’t like him, a lot of people don’t like him, it’s just that he likes her. And it’s not love, because he’s fifteen and an asshole still but he likes her a lot more than he’s willing to admit to Sirius even while drunk on the firewhiskey they stole from the teacher’s lounge.

She’s smart, except for the whole ‘friends with Snivellus’ thing; she’s really sarcastic and wears huge black combat boots underneath her robes with tiny red flowers doodles on the foot. Her friends are loud and they love her in that weird way that girls do, absolutely and while laughing. She writes everything down in this purple notebook with grass stains on the cover. Her hair is to her shoulders and it twists when she laughs, she’s the only person in the entire school who has ever called Sirius an: ‘expired sack of dragon shit’ and walked away without looking back to gage reaction.

He provokes her in class just so she’ll twist in her seat and ruin him with her mouth, showing all her teeth when she calls him a dick for the thirteenth time that day and it’s not even noon. Sirius thinks he’s mad but he doesn’t care, Evans is so goddamn interesting and he wants to talk to her until he can figure out why.

Over Christmas break he goes home and misses school like a toothache, he wants to walk into class and slide across desks until McGonagall walks in and gives him detention. School is where he can hang out with his mates every day and learn stuff and run around during full moons. They go back and he and Peter paint a banner that says ‘WELCOME TO OUR HUMBLE SCHOOL, PLEASE PAY A THREE GALLEON ENTRY FEE AT DOOR.’ They make 87 galleons and a toothpick before a teacher catches on. He gets detention for two weeks and hexes Snape’s legs together when he catches him laughing.

He’s not a violent person, but Snape deserves all the shit he gets and Evans throws her wand at him later in the common room but he’d do it again. He’s not a bad person, he isn’t, but Snape makes him want to punch a wall on account of him being a bigoted arsehole. Whatever, this whole thing should be over soon anyway.

He turns is his muggle studies homework late because Sirius stole it to try and prove to Moony that he could: ‘make Prongs slowly lose his mind while he looks for it’. As payback he tells him he pissed in his morning cornflakes and Sirius spits them up all over a stack of toast looking horrified. Peter and Remus laugh so hard they get cramps. He loves his mates, they’re shitty and irritating and funny and losers and if he didn’t have them he’d probably have ceased to exist a long time ago.

Over Christmas she gets a huge white cat which is utterly feral, Sirius starts calling it a polar bear behind her back until everyone is calling it that. Its real name is Ophelia because it’s her mum’s favourite character in some muggle play and it’s the fattest animal that has ever existed, once Marlene and Mary have to lather a door in butter just to pry it through. Lily loves it still and wraps it in scarfs when it’s cold. She’s barking mad and he tells her so but she says she just ‘doesn’t give a shit’ which makes him laugh.

In Charms they have to say the best thing they got for Christmas because Flitwick had only planned for half the lesson, Sirius says a headache and Remus says some new boots. Pete got some orange leg warmers which are awful, Marlene McKinnon refused to say anything because she ‘hates Christmas and all the joy it stands for’, Avery had ‘to many to pick from’, Jane Ruvesh announces she got dumped and then runs out crying while Lyle Parrish looks uncomfortable.

Mary was given a new set of hair curling potions and Evans says her stupid cat, which makes everyone groan and then makes everyone flinch back when she glares at them for groaning. Snape says under his breath that he got a bath towel and James leaves class avoiding his eyes. It’s one thing to give shit to a guy who’s a shit, but it’s another to give shit to a guy after you’ve just found out the best thing he got for Christmas was a bath towel.

There are other Slytherins to fight with anyway, Mulciber who grinds his teeth when Mary walks past and runs his fingers along her arm, Remus throws him against the wall and then Sirius is lazily cursing someone who tries to intervene and then it’s all gone to hell anyway. He punches anyone in sight and curses anyone dumb enough to not move out of his way and then it’s to Dumbledore’s to get a detention again. Fighting does nothing, he knows that, but he’s got to feel like he’s doing something.

He’s partnered with Evans in detention to scrub the fourth floor corridor. He asks her what she did and she says “I punched Markham Finch in the dick for saying that Ophelia isn’t so much an animal as she is a block of fat with legs”. His hand slips into his soapy bucket he’s laughing so hard, leaning against the wall and watching her grin at the soaking floor. She scrubs the left side and he does the right, they don’t speak much because even though he laughed and she didn’t hit him for it, it didn’t mean she still didn’t hate him quite a bit.

His mother writes, Lily buys a new pen for the purple notebook and he plays Quidditch, they win and Pete smuggles in firewhiskey for the party. It’s loud and Sophie Mallory’s homework gets ripped but the music is thumping so no one can hear her yelling. Lily does half a strip tease on the table before passing out into Remus’s arms and being dragged to bed by Marlene. James makes out with Rosaline Patel under the boys staircase and Sirius gives a speech about the muggle feminist movement on the table while pissed because he actually read Sophie Mallory’s homework and was the one who accidentally ripped it while waving it under Remus’s nose.

Once her Transfiguration book goes missing (cue the joke about the cat eating it for a light snack) and she’s pacing up and down the common room while Mary is all ‘you can borrow mine’ and Marlene is saying ‘just drop out’ and then Evangeline hits her for being negative. He charms the name off the front of his and slips it to her at breakfast when she’s talking to Dominic, she looks around and asks whose it is but he faces front and eats his toast without saying anything. “Well, um, thank you! Mysterious book giver!” she calls when leaving the hall and he’d probably give her both kidneys if she asked.

During muggle studies they learn about muggle physics and some guy’s law that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Basically everything you do will affect something else, whether it is a person or a place and he doesn’t know why this so hitting him so hard now. Everything he’s ever done has affected some other person with a brain and a favourite colour and a next door neighbour they’ve probably said hello to in the rain. Why, he thinks, is this the first time he’s ever noticed that.

Lily gets sick and isn’t in lessons for a week, which makes him notice that he notices an awful lot when she isn’t there and he finally resolves to just try and bloody get over it. He doesn’t know how, but he’s going to because this crush has gone on long enough and ignoring it has done nothing but give him a semi in the middle of Charms. She walks into Herbology on her first day back, sneezes, and passes out against the glass. His heart stops to scrape along the barrel of ribs and he ditches his next three classes in the bathroom, smoking to cover the fact that his hands are shaking until he hears from Jimmy Ivis that she’s okay. This entire thing has gotten out of hand.

She’s in class again three days later and he sees her, sitting there next to Marlene and writing in that purple notebook, and he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. He doodle’s her name on the back of his textbook the whole way though the lesson and she hugs Snape in the corridor and his gut is twisting and he hates this, he doesn’t want to be this guy. He hates these guys and without realising he has become one entirely on fucking accident.


This is how it happens: there is exams, and he is cocky, and Snape is Snape and she is far too loyal. Maybe if it wasn’t sunny they wouldn’t have gone outside, maybe if he’d done badly on the exam he wouldn’t have left, maybe if he wasn’t an asshole it wouldn’t have happened.

But it did. And when he thinks about it, her face and the way he saw the exact moment that all of the blood poured out of her heart, he buries his head in his pillow and all at once wishes that he could forget the entirety of his life if only to never have to live through that moment again.

A week later, Sophie Mallory, the one who did her muggle studies assignment on the feminist movement and who smiled with chip on her bottom tooth because she flew into a wall during second year Quidditch, is found in the attic of the potions room after some student complained that blood was leaking into his potion from the ceiling. She’d been lying there half naked for the entire night, passed out with ‘DIRTY’ carved into every inch of her skin with a cursed knife so you could almost see the bone. When he hears, he goes to the bathroom and throws up, chest heaving and heart rearranging itself inside his ribs.

After that everything is completely different, because this couldn’t be fixed by punching Avery in the jaw. No more fighting, no more using this… thing that’s happening as an excuse to get into it with the Slytherins. No more hiding behind being noble so he can get in fights with people he just doesn’t like. What was something that seemed to happen to other people is suddenly happening to girls he’s known since he was eleven, who did their muggle studies projects on the feminist movement and chipped their tooth during second year Quidditch.

The holidays happen in a blur, and then it’s back to school, sitting in the back and biting his tongue when Snape answers questions in class. He avoids Lily, sneaks around her and misses her like she was his arm. But this is what he’s doing right now, because Snape is all over her and all she wants is for the both of them to leave her alone. All James wants is for her to be happy and all Snape wants is for her to be his.

It starts slowly; she borrows a quill from him to finish her History of Magic Essay. He silently gives her his telescope when she forgets hers for Astronomy. She gently points out that he’s spelt Jupiter’s third moon wrong on his Divination Star Chart. They don’t talk still, but she snickers into her hand when he makes a deer pun in class and he can’t stop smiling for the rest of the lesson.

They’re partnered up for Herbology, and it’s the most uncomfortable ten minutes of his life as they both silently try to clip the Vicious-Visper-Vine, which steams when handled. The silence is digging into his teeth as he scrambles around for something, anything to say, that doesn’t sound terrible.

“You’re not going to faint again are you?” he asks and fuck, he was aiming for something not terrible.

 

She looks at him, surprised. “You- um, you remember that?”

He looks back at her, the plant beginning to snake around his hand. “’Course I remember that, you got a bruise the size of my ego, which, as we’ve established, could crush several people under its weight.”

She laughs at this, and then the god damn vine has found a hole in his glove and his left hand is burning so much it might as well be on fire. She takes him up the hospital wing and eats the food Madam Pomfrey brings him at lunch while trying to say ‘Vicious-Visper-Vine’ five times fast. He laughs so hard that Pomfrey sends her away and she grins at him from the window for seven minutes trying to get him to laugh so he can get kicked out as well. It works to.

He yells “VICIOUS-VESPER-VINE-VICIOUS-VESPER-VINE-VICIOUS-VESPER-VINE-VICIOUS-VESPER-VINE- VICIOUS-VESPER-VINE HA SUCK IT EVANS” down the hall the next time he sees her, and she grins and raises her middle finger in the air so high that Minnie sees it and gives her a detention. Then she turns to him and snaps “ONE MORE WORD OUT OF YOU POTTER AND I’LL GIVE YOU A DENTENTION AS WELL” so he shouts “ONE MORE WORD” and gets his twenty-first detention in a month while Evans giggles herself to death against the wall.

In detention they have to catalogue all the library books and she finds all the ones with swearwords and reads them aloud while sitting in the table. In Defence they’re put together and she blocks his jelly legs like it’s nothing, then turns his hair into a hoard of ants. She sits across from his at breakfast and makes fun of how much milk he puts on his cornflakes so he takes all the honey off the table and hides it so she can’t put any on her toast. The next week he finds his bed dripping in honey with her sitting on Sirius’s bed, wearing a shit-eating grin the size of Brighton. They’ve become friends while he wasn’t looking and he doesn’t really know what to do with that.

Her cat gets something in its paw and while he’s holding it down she tries to get it out. It scratches her neck and she uses a cushion to stem the blood while still fighting with the cat. She’s honestly insane. She tells him that Ophelia is named for a character in the play Hamlet, so he orders a copy and finishes it in three weeks while not understanding a single thing. What he does grasp however, after asking Remus to read it to, is that Ophelia dies by drowning, which is completely ironic.

“How do you figure?” she asks, throwing a balled up piece of paper while lying flat on his bed

“Because you named your cat after someone that drowned. Your cat. When cats hate water.”

 

She turns to him, stares, and then starts laughing so hard she rolls off his bed and onto the floor. And then he’s laughing because she is, and he really just can’t help himself. She asks him why he does Divination at all and he says because he and Sirius put on a huge act of predicting Sirius’s imminent death at the end of every class, complete with Sirius fainting into his arms with horror and paying Moony three galleons to make the lights flicker. The next Tuesday just before Sirius is due to faint he sees her sitting on the roof outside the window, and he’s so surprised he forgets to catch Sirius, who falls into a bunch of candles almost fulfils the prediction.

He notices that purple notebook of hers, how she pulls it out during classes and while sitting on the floor with her friends. He wonders what she writes in there, if she draws pictures of if it’s a diary. The grass stains, he realises, come from her going to lie down in the grass outside while using a muggle pen to write with. He’s never seen one before in his life, and she shows him how it writes without any ink as he imagines all of the fantastic pranks he could pull on Sirius. He tells her this, and they scheme together, leaning against a tree and eventually falling asleep, with her legs over his and head against his shoulder. That is, until Minnie is hovering over them in her tartan dressing gown and kicking him in the leg, yelling about it being two in the morning, but whatever. Worth it.

She and her friends throw bread rolls they stole from lunch at him while he’s doing Quidditch practise. Soon, this becomes a thing and Sirius, Remus and Peter have all joined in, saying it’s ‘bludger practise’ and ‘for the good of the game’. He catches five in his mouth in a row once and she charms his robes to flash ‘BIG MOUTH’ on the butt. He can’t stop thinking about that detention an age ago, when they scrubbed the fourth floor corridor in silence and how she had hated him.

He can’t even imagine doing that now, being in a room with Lily and not talking would be walking past a black hole and not getting sucked in. There is just so much he wants to tell her, about pranks and how he is allergic to strawberries and that one time he fell off the roof and broke his jaw when he was eight. He wants to learn everything about her, if she likes chocolate or vanilla, what her favourite song when she was five, how did the first pet she had die, would she go to space if she could, how she knew she was a wizard.

(vanilla, ‘if you’re happy and you know it clap your hands’, it was a frog and she sprayed it with the families hose so hard it fell off a ledge,  hell yes, because flowers didn’t die once she picked them)

In the month till the Quidditch final he loses his mind, practising every day and slipping out of conversations to go over strategy in his head. He can’t lose this, expectations piled so high that he wonders if his broom will be able to take the weight. “Relax James,” she says at breakfast, while they’re walking the halls, in the common room, “Everything will be fine.” Her voice sort of, quiets that part of his brain a little. It often plays on loops as he tries to fall asleep.

Then all at once, it is too much again. He’s pacing the common room at three .a.m., scared out of his mind that he’s going to let everybody down.  It’s too hard and he’s going to fail and oh no oh no oh no but then she’s there, holding his face and saying shhh James, it’s okay. James, look at me, alright? Just look at me. And he is. Oh god he is.

They play the game, and they win, and there is a party, and everyone is drunk, and it is madness. They spill out into the castle with Sirius roaring ‘WE MURDERED THEM’ while running up and down the halls topless, making three girls faint and Remus roll his eyes before (after three more drinks) joining in. He’s happy, because he did it and because everyone else is. That’s the best thing about Quidditch, besides flying, it makes everyone delirious. He stops Marlene from going upstairs with Lyle Parrish because she’ll regret it in the morning and Mary is found trying to convince a suit of armour to go stargazing with her at around three.

He notices she isn’t there because he always notices. He finds her on the pitch, after wandering around empty classrooms for an hour. She’s looking up at the sky, with her purple notebook in one hand and the other tracing shapes on her knee. It’s cold, and he runs out to her, standing the middle of the field like a post. “Congratulations” she says and he can’t stop looking at her. He can see her through the dark, glowing right through her t-shirt.

“Yeah.” He swallows because he’s had a few and so has she and it’s foggy and she’s still looking at the sky and he wants to do something but he doesn’t know what. He’s thinking of pulling out a cigarette just so his hands stop shaking and all at once he’s fifteen again, pacing the bathroom and thinking of her until his brain wants to bleed out. She’s looking at him now, really looking, and then she’s on the ground scribbling in the goddamn purple notebook with the grass stains

“Why are you always writing in that thing?” he says because he can see her combat boots with the flowers on the toe sticking out from under her palepale legs like a dream.

She shuts it and stands upright again, head tilted to him and voice unwavering. “Because I never want to forget.” She says and he can see her breath in front of him. Her combat boots look just the same as they did two years ago when he was fifteen and she tipped water down the back of his jumper and it wasn’t love then but it is now. It is now.

Gift and Sight

PAIRING: Soulless!Sam/OFC/OFC

RATING: Adult

SUMMARY: Dean makes him angry and Sam finds a little solace in two young, inviting women.

WARNINGS: Threesome action, adult content and naughty Sam. This is 100% SMUT. There’s some explicit girl-on-girl stuff in here. Also the idea that Soulless!Sam has amazing stamina. You’ve been warned.

Keep reading

No Control (Star-Lord Reader Insert)

Hope you guys really like this one!! This is probably my favorite one i’ve written so far! Enjoy!!

The silent treatment wasn’t going to end anytime soon, both you and Peter knew this. ‘Well, maybe if he wasn’t such a whore and was kissing other girls, then none of this would’ve happened!’ you thought.

You and the guardians had gone out to the bar, like you did every weekend. Peter told you to sit as he got you both drinks. After a good while, you started to wonder what was holding him up. Some men had stopped and tried to sit down to talk you up, but you brushed them off and told them you were waiting for someone. You progressively got more and more worried, so you stood up and went to go look for the ex-ravager.

Looking around the bar area, he was nowhere to be seen. Until your eyes landed right on his distinguishable red leather jacket. Peter’s arms were wrapped around some pink-skinned girl, with his lips connected to hers. Your stomach dropped and you thought you could hear the sound of your heart cracking in half. With the lump in your throat growing fast, you put on your best fake smile. You never cried in front of anyone, especially a room full of drunken strangers.

You strided over to him quickly, pushing past dancing people with drinks. Him and that girl were still making out, so you quietly tapped on his shoulder. When he turned around, his face went pale and his face looked shocked and scared. You just kept smiling your prettiest smile.

“Hi, Peter.” you said calmly. You decided on staying cool and collected.

“Who’s this?” the girl who was just sucking Quill’s face asked. You wanted to punch her lights out, but it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know. It was him. Before Quill could say anything you spoke up loudly.

“I’m a friend. I just wanted to tell Peter goodbye before I left.” And that’s when you spun on your heel and started towards the exit. Peter followed you and kept calling your name, but he couldn’t keep up. He was trying to push past people, but since you were smaller, you squeezed between bodies a lot faster. The last thing you heard before you were out of the bar was the voice of the pink lady yelling after him.

You ran back to the ship and your first impulse was to pack your things. It wasn’t until you had 2 bags full that you realized you had nowhere to go. You slumped down on your bunk and let the tears fall. You didn’t cry, you weren’t snotting or blubbering. You just sat there will a straight face, and let the tears roll down your cheeks. Hearing the ship’s door opening and the rushing footsteps towards you didn’t phase you. You didn’t panic at the sound of Peter getting closer. You didn’t feel anything except the wetness on your cheeks.

You didn’t look at him when he entered the bunk with all his excuses. Or when he kneeled down in front of you and tried to hold your hands. But the moment he touched you, you slapped him. Hard. Peter rubbed the side of his face and cursed under his breath. When he removed his hand, you saw he had a big red mark on his face that was swelling fast. You looked away from him and out of the corner of your eye you noticed he was looking at your packed bags.

“Please don’t leave. I know I massively fucked up, but please don’t leave. You don’t have to talk to me or be near me but just stay here. Will you please look at me?!” he demanded. You couldn’t focus on anything he was saying, just the mental image of him and that woman. He tried touching you once more. Quill begged you to look at him again. When you were pulled back into reality, you ripped your hands from his grasps. You got up, walked a couple feet, and ran your fingers through your hair. You legitimately thought you were going to lose your mind right then and there. You thought for a second because, like you said before, you literally didn’t have anywhere else to go. When you actually turned to look at him, you saw a great deal of desperation and sadness in his face. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“Here’s what’s going to happen: I’m staying here,” you began. His face relaxed a little, and you wanted to punch him so hard. “And the only reason I am is because I have nowhere else to go. I’m not going to speak to you or be anywhere near you. So don’t fucking go grabbing me and spinning me around to your music. In fact, don’t even try to come near me at all. Whatever we had is done and that’s final. God, I can’t even look at you,” you said angrily. You crossed your arms and looked at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears. That didn’t one bit as the tears disobeyed you anyways.

“I’m so sor–” he started.

“Get the hell out right now” your voice cracked. You couldn’t stand to be near him for a another moment. He stayed for a minute longer until you shot him a look that could make a grown man cry. He left quickly and shut the door to your bunk. You sat back down on the bed with your head in your hands and tried to manage your breathing before you had a heart attack.

It had been a month or so since that incident and you stuck to your word. You didn’t look at him or go near him. Whenever you passed him on the way to your bunk or to the cabin, you kept your eyes forward and acted as if he didn’t even exist. Out of the corner of your eye, you’d catch him staring at you. He’d even stopped dancing. The music would fill the ship and he would silently go back to his bunk.

The other guardians said nothing about it to either of you, until one day when you were all eating in the common area.

“When are you two gonna stop moping around like a bunch of bitches?” Rocket piped up. Drax, Gamora, and Groot all agreed with Rocket, but Peter didn’t answer so you decided you would.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who kissed some random girl at a bar. I think our Star-Lord over there has to take the credit for that one.” You stood up, threw your plate on the table, and stormed back to your bunk. Peter stayed quiet, so Rocket slowly followed after you.

“Listen, I know that Quill is a grade A sack of shit for doing what he did. Everyone knows that. But, you also gotta know how goddamn sorry he is. He can’t eat, he can’t sleep, he can’t even be his usual cocky bastard-self. I’ve know this guy longer than you, and I’ve never seen him care for someone as much as he cares for you. I think he actually loves you. Like with his heart and all that gross crap. He might not say it because he’s got some weird shit he’s gotta figure out, but he really does. This doesn’t justify what he did, but just think about it. Because you guys are really depressing everyone else. Especially Groot.”

You thanked Rocket and thought about what he said. You were still mad at Peter, but the idea of him loving you gave you butterflies. Deep down, you missed him so much. But, your subconscious pushed back in the image of him kissing that other girl, refueling your anger.

Per usual, that weekend you stopped on a nearby planet to go to a local bar. You actually decided to go this time. You hadn’t gone the last 2 or 3 weeks, as you had gotten some sort of bar-phobia from the incident. But you were so sick of that ship you could literally puke. Plus, you deserved some fun.

You were surprised when decided Peter to stay behind, but it was probably better that way anyways. When you entered the bar, you immediately knew you wanted to get drunk. You wanted to forget about Peter and the heartbreak, even if it was just for a night. You grabbed a stool at the bar and awaited your server.

“What can I get for ya, beautiful?” the bartender asked. He was really cute. His dark hair and crystal blue eyes were a perfect match. His white t-shirt and black jeans made him look even better, even though it was a regular, casual outfit.

“Something that’ll get me drunk fast,” you replied. In a matter of seconds, he handed you back a pink, flirty drink. You downed it fast and demanded another. The bartender gave you a sexy smile and handed you another one equally as fast as the first one. You took this one a little slower, but drank it faster than the average person would. You were feeling the alcohol effects quickly. ‘Shots! That’s exactly what I need!’ you thought. But, as if you mind was being read, some bald, blue guy with a bad under bite was already buying you a round. He was creepily smiling at you as you took 5 out of the 8 shots. You were REALLY feeling it now. You couldn’t find any of the other guardians but, whatever. You could handle yourself pretty well on your own.

About 4 more shots and some provocative dancing later, you really needed to pee. You bolted to the bathroom and laughed as you tripped over the trash can. Some other girls were taking up the stalls, vomiting, so you just checked yourself in the mirror. God, you were sooo drunk. And because of this factor, you thought it was the perfect time to call Peter Jason Quill.

You whipped out your transmissioner and began your call with him. As, you were waiting for him to pick up, you checked yourself in the mirror again. You finished fixing your hair as the call began.

“Hello?” he sounded a little slleepy and you could hear his music in the background.

“Mr. Star-Lord?” you giggled.

“Oh God, where did they take you? Are you okay? Where are you now?” He was going way too fast so you just giggled some more.

“Umm, we’re at a bar.” you said stupidly.

“Yeah, I guessed that. How much have you had to drink?”

“Well, I had like 2 of these really pretty pink drinks! Pink like that pink girl you kissed,” you said innocently. He stayed quiet so you continued talking. “And then, this guy was like, soooo nice to buy me shots!”

“How many shots did you have?” he asked sternly.

“Whoa, someone needs to chill out! Anyways, I’m too drunk to count.”

“I’m coming to get you. Where are you?”

“I don’t have to answer that!” you laughed. You laughed even harder as puke girl #1 fell hard on the floor as her friends tried to pick her up.

“I can find you easily, so you might as well just tell me now,” he rudely replied. Just then, a man and a woman stumbled, faces locked on each other.

“These people just walked in making out. I think they’re gonna have sex in the bathroom. We never had sex in the bathroom. We should do that sometime!” you gasped.

“Yeah maybe… Listen, I have your coordinates so just stay where you are.” he said seriously.

“Look, I don’t need your help! I can get home on my own!” you yelled. He was yelling back so you just hung up. You didn’t need him ruining your good time. You walked out of the bathroom and left your transmissioner on the sink so he couldn’t track where you were.

You stumbled all the way back to the ship and, luckily, Peter wasn’t there. You went straight for the food cabinet and ate like a monster. While walking back to your bunk, you knocked over some things and just laughed even more. You locked the door behind you and hadn’t been in your bunk for 10 mins before there was loud banging at your door.

“Go away!” you groaned. Loud noises hurt your head.

“OPEN THE DOOR NOW!” It was Peter and he was mad. You rolled your eyes, but he kept banging. You threw open the door and he pushed past you to enter and examine the room.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked. He scanned the room one more time before he went to sit on your bunk. He asked more questions like why you didn’t answer his calls and how’d you gotten home and blah blah blah. You needed to get out of these clothes, they were so tight. So you just started stripping right there. Quill immediately stopped babbling.

You bent over to slip off your dress and kicked it across the room. You sat down next to him in just your bra, thong, and your heels. The alcohol was making you courageous, so you got up and straddled him. He was still sitting up straight. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips against his.

You were drunk, half naked, and straddling the man who’d you’d hated so much for the past month. But you didn’t care. The alcohol had completely wiped away your inhibitions and you didn’t care what happened.

“Stop, we shouldn’t be doing this,” he tried. Yet, he wasn’t pushing you away. So you started going a little further. You palmed him through his pants and he let out a breath.

“Your mouth is saying no, but I don’t think you mean it,” you said. You looked him dead in the eye while he was trying to avoid your gaze. You grabbed his strong jaw and made him look at you. You looked at his lips and licked yours, then began kissing him again.

Next thing he knew, you were sliding down his body to kneel in front of him. You gave him a wink before unbuckling his belt and sliding down his pants.

“No, s-stop. This isn’t right. You’re drunk. I can’t take advantage of you.” His voice was betraying him though, because the closer you were getting to his erection, the more he was stuttering. So you decided to test him.

“Listen, shots make me horny as hell. If you’re not gonna fuck me, then I’ll find someone else to do it.” And with that, you started to get up and walk away to get your dress. You needed to get off and you were didn’t care who helped you do it.

“You’re drunk… I can’t.” he tried explaining. So you strutted towards him and straddled him again, this time rubbing yourself against him. He got a little harder. You sucked on his neck and nibbled on his ear.

“You can do whatever you want,” you whispered, “especially to me.” He got even harder.

“Fuck, if I do this, you’ll be so pissed at me tomorrow…” he groaned. In a swift motion, you got off him, pulled down his underwear, and took him in your mouth.

“Shit,” he wailed. You ran you tongue over the tip then started sucking. You jerked him a little bit as you licked his shaft.

“You taste so good,” you whispered. He was letting out all kinds of noises you’d never heard him make. His hands went to your hair. You put him back in your mouth and took him all the way to the back of your throat and hummed. You looked up at him, his eyes were closed. You bobbed your head up and down. Before he could cum, he pulled you off him, lifted you up, and threw you on the bunk. He leaned down to slowly pulled off your panties and you were getting impatient. You knew you were dripping wet. Peter licked you once and it was heaven already.

He licked his lips and dipped his head down again. You hadn’t been touched in a month and the way his mouth latched onto you mound made you forget everything. He knew what you liked and he was really going to work on you. Licking between your folds, sucking on your clit, and making intricate patterns on your most sensitive areas. Instead of shoving his tongue inside you, he used his lips to form a suction at your entrance. He was looking up at you, sucking harder and harder. Your eyes screwed shut and your mouth was making an ‘o’ shape.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you mumbled. You came undone from the pressure, coming in his mouth. Your back arched and your hands gripped your breasts. He licked you clean as you rode out your orgasm, riding his face slowly.

“I could spend hours between your legs,” Quill spoke in a low tone. He sounded so sexy. Now, you were ready for the icing on the cake. You waited on the bunk as he stood up and looked down at you.

“I can’t do this. It’s not right,” he sighed. You laughed out loud.

“Since when did you start caring about the difference between right and wrong?”

“Since the problem that happened between me and you. I’m trying to be good for you.” he explained. You literally did not care. You were still drunk as hell and you needed to get off. You removed your bra and leaned back against your bunk.

“Thanks for the effort but I don’t care. Because right now,” you spread your legs and started touching yourself, “I need you to be really, really bad.” He sucked in a breath and cursed himself under his breath. You bit your lip and moaned. That was it.

Peter pounced on you and inserted himself into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you mouth gaped open. In and out, he was hitting all the right places.

“Deeper,” you begged. He went in further and you swore you could see stars. You threw your head back. Peter took this opportunity to attack your neck, sucking and biting and kissing, adding even more pleasure. Your breasts were heaving and your hands tangled themselves in his hair. His hands were under you back and he was letting out groans of pleasure himself. You began releasing and you dug your nails into his back and moaned his name so loud he had to kiss you to silence you.

You came at least 3 times before he did, to which he sunk his teeth into your shoulder. You were so tired from the alcohol and the sex that once he pulled out of you, you planted one small kiss on his lips and curled up to go to sleep.

“Wait, we need to talk.” Quill tried.

“Talk later, sleep now. Shhh,” you hushed him.

“But–”

“Shhhhh…”. You wrapped his arms around you, pulled a blanket over the two of you, and fell asleep. You know that you shouldn’t have done that, but you were too drunk and tired to feel the regret. As you drifted off to sleep, you could’ve sworn he whispered he loved you to the top of your head.

The next morning, you woke up with the worst hangover you’d ever had. But you couldn’t even focus on that when you realized you were naked in bed with Peter. He was still asleep and you were still freaking out. You slowly and quietly removed yourself from his grasps, stood up, and threw on some clothes. ‘WHY THE FUCK DID I DO THAT?! I’M NEVER DRINKING EVER AGAIN!’ you screamed in your mind. Making all sorts of promises to God hoping this was just some fucked up dream, you made your way to the bathroom.

Inspecting yourself in the mirror, you saw evidence of last night: bite marks and hickeys on your neck, collarbone, and shoulder. Your hands gripped the sink and you let your head fall. You closed your eyes and felt the silence and the warmth of the bathroom around you. It was actually peaceful for a moment. Then there was a soft tap at the door. You knew it was Peter and you knew he would want to talk, but you weren’t ready to give up this little slice of heaven in the bathroom. Never the less, you opened the door. He had wrapped the blanket around his waist and his hair was all messed up. You noticed he had similar marks in the same area you did. He looked cute, but his face was a very anxious.

“Um, can we talk now?” he asked quietly. You rubbed your neck and bit your lip nervously.

“Please. I just wanna talk.” You walked out of the bathroom quietly and headed to your bunk to sit. He put on his pants from last night and sat on the bed next to you. You were waiting for him to say something but he stayed silent for once as if he were choosing his words closely.

“Listen, last night was a mistake, obviously, and I think it’d be better if we forgot it ever happened,” you explained. He shook his head and laughed.

“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s so typical of you; always acting like nothing’s wrong. You were all over me last night because deep down you know you miss me. ‘Oh Peter! You can do whatever you want to me!’ ” He was mimicking your moans from last night. You were beginning to get heated.

“That is not fair, okay? I was drunk and didn’t know what I was doing and you have absolutely no right to throw that in my face,” you stood up.

“ ‘Oh Peter! Shots make me so horny! Oh Peter! Deeper! You taste so good! Fuck, that feels so good!’ ” he kept going. He moved his hands over his body and made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth. You rolled your eyes at his childish behavior.

“Jesus Christ, go fuck yourself! What do you even want from me?” you asked.

“I want you to look me in the eye right now and tell me that you never want to speak to me again. That you want me to go away forever. If you can, then I will never bother you ever again.” he spoke. Of course you couldn’t say it. He was staring at your face intently.

“I can’t do that. I do still have feelings for you,” you began. His face lit up with hope. “But whenever I look at you, I can’t stop picturing you with that girl.” Tears streamed down your face without your consent. He held your arms and looked like he was genuinely sorry.

“I was so fucking stupid to do that. I don’t know what I was thinking and I am such a big, fucking idiot. I’m not used to being in whatever this is and I’m so sorry. I can’t say it enough.” You were probably as stupid as him to believe him, but you did.

“You know how much you hurt me, right?” You looked into his eyes for the first time in what felt like forever.

“I really do. I know I’m such an asshole, but please give me another chance. I love you so much. Too much to let you go.” It was first time he had actually said these words. His hands cupped your face and his thumbs wiped away your tears. Looking into Quill’s eyes, you could tell they were pleading for you to say it back. A war in your mind was ensuing. On one hand, Peter was unpredictable and you really don’t think you could handle this again. But, he said he loved you and you loved him too.

“Okay, one more chance. But that’s it!” you said seriously. He relaxed and smiled. Quill pulled you in to kiss you and you happily accepted it. After a while, he broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

Ta-da! What’d you guys think? Send love or hate! What should I write about next? Send requests!

your name is forever written in ink [Annabeth-2]

So here’s Part 2 of Annabeth’s POV bc I’m addicted to this AU okay. You can read the rest over here in this tag 

  • She’s nineteen, and she’s going to New York for college. It’s scary in itself because all Annabeth has ever known is California, but something about New York just feels right.
  • So she plans everything down to the T, says a not really sad goodbye to her dad and stepmother, cries when she has to say goodbye to Piper, and gets on the plane anyway.
  • She’s been in school for a few weeks, and everything is great. There’s something about New York that just makes her happy about being here, even though she does stress about school a lot.
  • She meets some new people, a girl named Hazel that’s in one of her English classes and a boy named Leo that’s in a mechanics class that she’s taking as an elective.
  • He’s a bit annoying, but he’s really smart (and entertaining) so they usually pair up for their projects.
  • They stay late one afternoon to finish up a project and Leo’s taking his gloves off when she sees his Name on his wrist.
  • She drops the wrench she had been holding, which startles Leo.
  • “You okay, Annabeth?”
  • “What—what does your Name say?”
  • “Piper McLean,” Leo says with a sigh. “Why?”

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anonymous asked:

TsukkiYachi dialogue 14 please? =)

from this.

14. “You’ve gotta stop doing that.”
“What?”
“Saying things that make me want to kiss you.”

Yachi blushes, because Tsukishima isn’t one for romance, let alone to say something even remotely romantic.

“W-What?” she asks, face ablaze because she can’t think of anything she said that could’ve made Tsukki say that.

“It’s nothing,” he starts, squinting his eye slightly, and Yachi recognises that expression. He’s thinking. 

“It’s just… when you talk about art, or photography, or design,” he names, “you get very into it,” Yachi’s face lights up more, “and it’s cute.”

‘Cute’ is the last straw, and Yachi’s brain fries as her whole body glows with red.

“I can see the steam coming out your head,” Tsukishima teases. Both him and Yachi can’t help but smile. 

“Stop it,” she chides, fingertips lightly touching his forearm, ghosting along the length of it before slipping in between his long fingers. His thumb strokes her hand, small and soft within his own calloused ones, and it feels like home.

“You wanted to kiss me?” she asks, and Tsukki tries to keep his calm expression but she reads him, sees the way the tips of his ears turn pink and he nods his head yes. She challenges him before her courage is lost.

“Then, do it.”

Their lips collide.

Song Stuck In My Head

Summary: Phil’s best friend is getting married. How can one song change so many lives forever?

Word Count: 18,413

A/N: Well shit… Kinda really proud of this one tbh, it’s the longest thing I’ve written to date and yeah. So many thanks to my wonderful Laura for letting me scream at her when I was stuck and just keeping me motivated through this entire thing. Love you <3. 

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GUUUUUUYS IT IS COMPLETE!

The first IraMako fanfiction I have seen on this glorious site and on Fanfiction.net (although I just posted it on there)

YOU WANTED IT. I GIVE YOU IT! FLUFFY, CUTE, IRAMAKO!

——

Title: A Million Miles in a Name (link)

Summary: He always called her Mankanshoku, sticking to the respectful route to keep others off the trail of this relationship, but it was annoying her. She wanted to hear him say her first name. She wanted him to call her Mako and not Mankanshoku. She was determined that tonight’s ‘home date’ would be the night she got him to call her Mako.

Rated: K+ (Warnings: Fluffy stuff, cute Mako, secret things, Gamagoori being soft)

Word Count: 1,652

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white film

Levi ruffles her hair like she’s a kid. Like she’s his kid. He was supposed to take care of her, but all he ever did was fuck her up. He’s a different person around her. Softer somehow. 

It’s always like this. The hour will get too late and all he can feel is smoke biting at the back of his throat and sleep clouds his memory, but he always remembers the feeling of her skin against his. Mikasa presses her body into his. She’s in his arms, just slightly taller than he is. Her lips brush shyly over his. There is nothing shy about Mikasa Ackerman. There is nothing gentle about her smile or the way she runs her fingertips over his arm. The heart isn’t a bone, but she has broken it every way it can be broken.   

Her kiss twists his raggedy heart. It is a muscle and it will heal.  

Levi licks at his lips. The memory of how she tastes crashes over him like a wave. This is twice now and it’s no accident or mistake, but they’ll both lie and say it is.

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I Got a Boy - Chapter 19

IGAB Tag / FF.Net / AO3

-

“What?”

Annabeth was locked in Jason’s intense gaze, her back up against the door with literally no way to escape from what she had just said. But she did it for a reason because it had to be said - here and now.

“I’m a girl,” she repeated, her words thick in the back of her throat.

Jason scrunched his eyebrows and then shook his head like was trying to clear it. “Quit playing around. Piper’s really mad and you’re not helping.”

“My name is Annabeth Chase. Everything you know about me is wrong.”

There was a quiet moment as Jason watched her. She clenched her jaw, waiting for him to react, but he was as still as a tree. Only his eyes moved. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she considered saying something else, but his face screwed up and his scar twitched. “Are you joking?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

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49; "Say something"

Harry: “Please, babe.” He kneeled in front of your shaking body, resting his hands on your trembling knees. “I need to know you’re okay. Please, I- I need to know.” You tried saying something, anything, but all that came out were more choked cries. You shut your eyes tighter and ducked your head between your arms, letting out another sob. “Babe, please. Just- can you talk to me?” With a shake of your head and more sobbing, he sighed and moved his hands to yours, clutching onto them as if they were his only connection to you at that moment. “Look, I know it hurts, but please, love. Say something.” You slowly shake your head again and begin to move away as your crying gets worse, making his heart wrench and his eyes well up. “Baby…” You let out a quiet whimper, your voice quiet and hoarse from the crying. “She’s- she’s gone, Harry.” You began to hyperventilate from finally saying it, closing back in on yourself before beginning to sob again. He slides across the floor and gathers you up in his arms, letting out a sob of his own and tightening his arms around you. “I know, love. I’m sorry.”

Liam: “So?” You ask as you climb down the stairs slowly, your heels echoing across the hardwood floor as you step to reach him. He turns slowly, his eyes meeting yours and dropping down your body, scanning over every little detail. His hand covers his mouth, making it difficult to distinguish his reaction. “Li? What d’you think? Is it too much?” You spin slowly, head tilted down as you gesture to your outfit, your body wrapped nicely in a new dress, the deep red adding a delicious contrast between your skin tone and your perfectly styled hair. “Liam, is this okay? You aren’t really saying much.” His eyes, you notice, are still stuck on your body, mentally tracing every curve that’s he’s memorized every night. “Liam, say something. Please.” His eyes dart back up to yours, taking a step towards you and pulling you into him with an arm around your waist, the other reaching around the back of your neck. “You look… beautiful,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you and resting his forehead against yours.

Louis: “Oh, come on, sweetheart! You can do it!” You walk past your husband and sit on the couch behind him, watching as you sipped your tea. “Baby girl, give me something to work with!” You laugh at your daughter’s wide-eyed expression, her being merely 10 months old and still not a word. “Lou, she’s probably not gonna say anything. Maybe even for a while-“ “Shh! Come on, say something!” You set your cup down on the coffee table and climb down on your knees to the spot next to him on the floor, taking your daughter and laying her on the ground in front of you, leaning over her tiny frame. “Alright, sweet pea. You better start talking or else we’re never gonna hear the end of it from daddy.” Louis laughs and swats at your backside earning him an equally deserved swat on the arm before you turn back to your baby. “Can you say ‘mama’? ‘Ma-ma’?” Her eyes light up when she hears your name, her little fists wrapping around your pinky fingers. “Or you could say ‘dada’? That would be nice too, y’know.” Louis leans over, kissing you on the cheek and tickling your baby girl, her melodious laughter breaking the silence. “D-da!” You both stop and look at each other, then back to her. “Did she just-“ “I think she said-“ Her arms wave about and she giggles again. “Da!” Louis picks her up and spins her around, clutching her to his chest gently and peppering kisses all over her giggling face. “Babe, she- she said ‘da’! Oh, sweetheart, thank you!”

Niall: “Darlin’ c’mon. Ya know I didn’t mean any of it.” You rolled further away from him, roughly wrapping the blankets around yourself, settling with a huff. “Ya can’t be mad at me fer long, I bet.” He shifts onto his back, hands behind his head, prepared to ignore you just as you’re doing to him. As you start drifting off into sleep, he leans up on his elbows, glancing over at your almost sleeping form before laying a hand on your side and sliding it slowly up and down the curve of your hip. You flinch away, batting at his hand and shucking the covers tighter around you. “C’mon Princess, y’know I take it back. Jus’ forgive me, please?” You move to roll further away from his but move too far, beginning to slip off the bed as his arm wraps itself around your waist, pulling you back onto the bed and against his chest. “Say somethin’. Please, Princess, I need t’hear yer voice again.” He whispers into the crook of your neck, pressing frantic tickling kisses against your skin and smiling when he hears your laughing protests. “I- fine just- stop please, I just- okay! I forgive you!” You turn in his arms, straddling his waist and kissing the life out of him as the covers slip off both of you, your clothes eventually doing the same.

Zayn: “Really?” You shrugged, trying to speak but no sound coming out. “It’s gotta be you, babe.” You laughed at his reference, him not understanding it as you explained silently to him through the failing Skype call. “Babe- I can’t- stop! I can’t hear you, babe. Your laptop’s shit, I’m tellin’ you.” You violently shook your head no as you motioned a finger at him, presumably accusing his laptop of the faulty hearing. “Can you test it? Just speak for a bit and fiddle ‘round with your settings. I’m telling you it’s not mine.” He leans back in his chair, slowly raking a hand through his dark hair. He laughs, watching you mumble to yourself while making faces imitating his. You glance up at him with an eyebrow raised, lips moving but no sound. He shakes his head, laughing again as you hastily grabbing a paper and pen and scribbling on it “well why don’t you check then, hmm?” He sighs, looking down at his screen when he notices his little speaker symbol has a red slash through it. “Shit.” He presses it, shutting his eyes and smiling. “Say something.” He cracks one eye open at the sound of your slow clapping, a quirky grin on your face. “Well done, my love. Well done.”