i am slowly beginning to enjoy this

Enough - A Moriel Fic

(Not edited and maybe not even all that coherent this just sort of…happened and I went with them.) 

For @cuddles-and-chocolate-cake (thank you!! this got a bit longer than a small dabble so I formatted it properly like this instead of just answering your ask!) 

Title: Enough 

Summary: Prompt: Moriel + slowly. Projected towards the end of ACOWAR, the Second War is over and Mor and Azriel finally acted on their feelings. But Az still has some reservations over whether or not he’s ready to completely accept them. 

TeaserThe Second War washed away that line between them, like footprints on a beach, until it was as though it had never been, as though it had always been nothing more than an impression printed on both of their souls, the ghost of their demons trembling before them. Fear and battle and the threat of losing each other, of losing everything had shattered the illusion like a thin pane of glass struck by a hurricane. 

Link: AO3 

Five hundred years. Five hundred years they waited. Half a millennia they spent apart, their entire lives in limbo, watching, waiting, never daring to cross that line between them. 

He would have waited another five centuries, another hundred immortal lifetimes for her and thanked the Cauldron for every second he was allowed to just be in her presence. 

Now she’s told him that she feels the same way. That she waited. Waited for him. That she would have kept on waiting for him, for him to be ready, until her last breath if that had been what he had needed. Sometimes he still struggles to believe her. Sometimes he still wants to step back over to his side of the line where he still thinks he ought to be. But she gently holds his hand and keeps him by her side, always. And that is where he belongs. 

The Second War washed away that line between them, like footprints on a beach, until it was as though it had never been, as though it had always been nothing more than an impression printed on both of their souls, the ghost of their demons trembling before them. Fear and battle and the threat of losing each other, of losing everything had shattered the illusion like a thin pane of glass struck by a hurricane. 

He still does not know which of them moved first. Perhaps they moved together, as they always have, in dance or in battle, seamless, effortless, perfect. As though they were made for this, as though when the Cauldron forged them they were one; one being split into two but never forgetting where it came from, never forgetting what it ought to be. 

All he knows is that one moment that barrier was between them, a rippling veil of uncertainty beyond which lay something neither of them dared look at for too long in all their years. And then it was gone. Gripped by two hands; one large, one small, one callused, one delicate, one scarred, one smooth, and together they tore it down. 

Then his lips were on hers or her lips were on his but his fingers were in her hair and her hands were gripping his shirt and pulling him closer and…And he was kissing her. Her lips were parting for his tongue and her taste was filling his mouth and he was drowning in her. Azriel was no stranger to staring the waiting abyss in the eyes and denying it just once more. Death and he were old friends now, a friend he visited regularly, delivering others or himself it made little matter. But this.

 When his lips met hers he knew he had never truly courted death at all. Death was not a dark, cold apparition like the shadows that flitted about his skin, his soul. Death was not a hooded male shrouded in lies and gleeful smiles for the souls he could claim. Death did not taste of sorrow and bitterness and frozen ashes, no. 

Death was a lover. Death was a woman wrapped up in silks, gilded in sunshine and drenched in wonder. Death was warm and tender and gentle. Death tasted like the whiskey they had shared in his tent just before the call to arms was issued. Death smelled like citrus and cinnamon and cherry scented shampoo. Death was this moment, this kiss, rich and deep, that he had waited for for more than five centuries. Death was worth every second it had taken to claim him. Death was a love so deep he knew it would now be impossible to live without it, without her. 

Azriel is still afraid, still so afraid of everything. That kiss seems to mark a break in time, there was before that moment and there is after that moment and it feels impossible to reconcile the two.

 Before the kiss was safe, was structured, was known and familiar and comfortable. They had lived in that for five hundred years and it had been good. Not everything he wanted, not everything he secretly hoped for, not everything he had dreamed but…It had been enough. It was enough. His mantra for the five centuries they’d spent apart. Her mantra too, she had whispered to him one night as she lay curled in his arms. A position that felt, so right, yet his demons still hissed snidely was so wrong. 

After the kiss is unknown, unpredictable, and wild. Like trying to fly through a storm he has no say in where the sky will carry him to, he can only flare his wings and pray it does not let him fall. It has not yet but if it does some day, he thinks, he will gladly tumble into that waiting void and there will be a smile on his lips. He thinks that means they did the right thing, no matter what comes next. 

That does not stop him wanting to be careful. Always careful, always precise, and in this above all things…He wishes to handle her with care, with the tenderness and delicacy that she deserves. He wants to take his time and had quietly insisted they move slowly with this. The last thing he had ever wanted to do, and the thing he had been most afraid of, was doing something that she might later regretted. 

It has been almost a month since that first kiss and though everything has changed, in some ways nothing has. He still hovers, still hesitates, still resists her and holds himself back from doing everything he wants. She sleeps in his bed, in his arms, her head pillowed against his shoulder as though this has always been the way it’s been. But still he insists that they wait. He wants her, Cauldron he wants her more than anything in this world but…He swore to himself that he would give her time, time to change her mind, time to leave, time to realise she deserves better… 

Groaning, Azriel rolls his shoulder and flexes his wings, shaking out the stiffness that’s gathered in them. Meetings. In some ways, fighting in the war was preferable to sitting in all of these discussions listening to the High Lords and Ladies talk over one another as they debate politics. But he’s free now, free to seek her out. 

Opening the door to his, their, chambers, he pads inside and freezes in the doorway, blinking. Mor stands just inside, obviously waiting for him, obviously just having stopped pacing up and down his usual path in front of the fire. She looks stunning, the dress she has on a deep, rippling cobalt, the same shade as the siphons he bears. She also looks nervous. 

Shutting the door quietly behind him Azriel walks towards her, concern darkening his hazel eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He asks softly, reaching out to her and instinctively tucking a lock of her thick, golden hair behind her ear so he can see her face. So odd, so odd not having to fight those instincts, so odd to be allowed to touch her this way, intimately, lovingly, the way he’s always wanted to. 

She shakes her head, “Nothing’s wrong, Az,” she says, but her voice trembles slightly as she says it and he’s sure she’s not being honest with him. Before he can question her further however she stands on her toes, curling a hand behind his head, the tips of her fingers brushing the hair at the nape of his neck as she coaxes him down to kiss her. 

Each one still ruins him in a way he never thought anyone could. He never expected to give anyone else this power over him, only her, and he never expected that she would ever wield it in this way. Her tongue brushes his and he melts for her, every mask cracking and crumbling to dust, every bit of armour sliding from him as though molten, pooling on the floor at her feet and leaving him bare before her. 

Mor breaks the kiss between them but keeps his face cupped in her hand, her eyes searching his for something. He wishes he knew what it was, wishes he could gift it to her, wishes he could stop her looking so uncertain. But then a smile is spreading across her face, slow and warm and deliberate as the rising sun and he can’t help the ease that settles over him too in answer. 

“I love you,” she whispers softly, sincerely, without a trace of doubt or hesitation in her as she looks into his eyes. 

He swallows, blinking, startled at this. She hasn’t said those words to him, not since their kiss and never in this way and he can’t breathe. His chest is tight, as though his heart has swollen up and crushed his lungs, leaving no room for anything inside him but the way she makes him feel. 

“I love you too,” he breathes onto her lips. The words come without permission, without thought. Because they’re true. He loves her. He’s loved her from the moment their eyes met and she looked at him the way she did, smiled at him the way she did and he has never been able to deny her that love. 

That smile on her face broadens until it’s radiant and he feels like it could sustain him for years. Then she draws back slightly, fishing in her pockets for something he can’t see before she turns back to him. 

“I know tattooing is traditional,” she begins, her voice strangely breathless. “And we can do that if you want, I I’d like that,” he blinks at her, utterly lost as she moves closer. He’s never seen her so anxious, so unsure of herself before and he wants nothing more than to take her in his arms and make her feel safe and secure. 

“Mor-” He begins softly but she continues on, heedless of his interruption. 

 “But…I wanted to do it this way.” Swallowing she reaches out and takes his hands softly in hers. Placing one over the other she covers them both with her own and he jolts as the realisation of what she’s about to do hits him a moment before she does it. 

“Morrigan,” he rasps out in warning, his eyes wide, his throat constricted as he stares at her. 

She smiles, a hint of sadness in her molten brown eyes. “I’m sure,” she whispers, nodding her head. As though she’s heard every protest, every doubt in his head she goes on, one hand reaching up to caress his cheek, stroking with her thumb. “I love you, Azriel,” she breathes quietly. “I’ve loved you almost our entire lives. I will always love you, Az.” She kisses him then, quick and brief, as though she can’t help herself, as though she needs the contact, needs to express what she’s feeling in some physical way to try and make him understand.

Taking a deep breath she straightens, holding herself like a queen, like a goddess carved of mortal flesh, she looks at him, looks into his eyes and he knows she sees everything. She’s been there for it all, every shadow, every demon, every stain upon his soul and still. Still she looks at him like that. As though he’s as precious to her as she is to him. As though she might burst from the depth of her love for him, even as he thinks he will for her. As though…As though she truly means every word she’s just spoken to him.

“You don’t have to say yes,” she tells him quietly, “I know you,” she tells him quietly, “I know you’re scared. I know you don’t- I know you wanted to take it slow, to give me time to run, to change my mind, to find someone,” she breaks off, jaw tightening as she refuses to force the word out, the word that’s haunted him for centuries.

Composing herself enough she gets out, “But…I’m not going anywhere, Azriel.” She blinks rapidly and a single tear slips from her eyes. He brushes it away without thinking and she continues, “I’ll wait for you. For however long it takes until you’re ready.” He opens his mouth but no words come out, emotion clogs his throat and tears slowly fill his own eyes but he holds them back, watching her, awe in every fibre of him.

“I will wait for you, I promise. But I need you to know that…I want this. I’m surer of this than I’ve ever been of anything in my life.” She swallows, breathing deeply as she presses something small and circular into his palm then tenderly closes his scarred fingers around it. “I want to marry you, Azriel.” His heart stutters to a halt as he looks down at his hand, almost afraid to open it. “Now. In a month. In a decade. In a millennia. I don’t care. I just…I want to be your wife.” He looks up at her again in time to watch her say softly, “If you’ll have me.”

Swallowing tightly past the lump in his own throat he reluctantly looks away from her shining eyes and down to his hand. Slowly uncurling his fingers Azriel looks down at the ring in his palm. Simple, elegant, three thin bands of silver that are woven through one another endlessly with no clearly defined beginning or end. It had belonged to his mother and it’s the only thing he has left of her.

He glances back up at Mor again and finds her staring at him, visibly trembling as she waits for his reaction. “Az?” she whispers hesitantly, voice straining with nerves, hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.

Slowly, deliberately, Az moves forwards and lifts her hand gently and coaxes her fingers to unclench. Tears flow freely down both of their faces as he lovingly slides the ring into place on her finger, marvelling at how well it fits. Her face splits into a broad grin and she throws herself into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist and Azriel finds himself laughing as he slides his arms around her, holding her close. Her lips meet his in a deep, slow kiss and he folds his wings tenderly around them as he carries her slowly back towards the bed.

 Five hundred years. Five hundred years they waited. It’s been long enough.

Home to Her [Cat/Kara]

Fandom: Supergirl
Rating: Explicit
Summary: When an unexpected guest shows up the night of CatCo’s holiday party, Kara must begin to accept her feelings about the changes in her life. Set in Season 2.

Happy holidays, beautiful SuperCat fandom! This is my Christmas wish for our lovely characters, the way I wish things were in canon, the way I hope they will someday be. There are some characters in here I know some of us aren’t too fond of, but I think it is important (at least for me) to learn how to work them into the stories and deal with them, at least in some small way. Still, this is a SuperCat fic, and trust me, nothing takes away from that. Nothing ever will. Hope you enjoy! Thank you, as always, for reading (:

***

Of all the galas and events CatCo threw each year, the annual holiday party was by far Kara’s favorite. It was more intimate than other lavish soirees she helped plan, its sole purpose to thank the writers, editors, assistants and countless others who kept the company running day after day, week after week. The decor was always delicate, awash in wintry white snowflakes and candlelight, champagne and fine hors d’oeuvres at every turn, and of course, the amazing twelve foot Christmas tree Cat herself took the honor of lighting. Kara always looked forward to that tradition in particular, when for once, her boss softened in front of the entire staff, getting a little misty as she acknowledged their hard work and dedication, before turning on the full charm, a sparkle in her eye as she lit the branches against the backdrop of National City. In that moment, everyone caught a glimpse of the woman she really was, a side Kara was thankful she got to see more than most.

Except this year, everything was different. Cat was gone, off somewhere searching for meaning, for the next big adventure, whatever that might be. Kara hadn’t heard anything from her since she left, not even so much as a text or an email. She tried not to take it personally, knowing she must have been busy, thinking it would get easier, that she’d miss her less as time went on, but only the opposite was true. Tonight, the party was just another reminder of her absence. Kara felt it so deeply, she truly wished she hadn’t come.

Nothing was the same, not the decorations, the food, nor the atmosphere. With James and his newly soaring ego in charge, it felt less about showing appreciation for the CatCo family and more about showing off. He and Winn had gone to great lengths to make it an over-the-top, booze-driven bash, trading the jazz ensemble for a blaring DJ booth, candles for flashy light displays, and a fake tree timed to music, already lit by the time the festivities started. The interim CEO had a gaggle of young interns fawning all over him, and Kara was happier than ever she’d put an end to whatever it was they’d started. Except now, she found herself without anyone to talk to, perched near the buffet table, taking in her share of cheese puffs while plotting an early escape.

Read the rest on A03.

10

Here are some of my things for the @echogaster project! Check out the final video over here (link)! I’m so very happy to have been part of this project, and I can’t begin to describe how proud I am of everyone who’s contributed in one way or another <3<3<3

Meet Kött. Some of you might have seen him around, though I haven’t posted much of him. I created him for the Echo Gaster Project, and he’s slowly been taking shape in the back of my head over the last couple of months.

The word “Kött” is Swedish for “Meat”. It was the placeholder name I gave him but it kinda stuck so I guess he’s called Kött now. It’s pronounced similar to “shut”.

I very much enjoyed working on this. Especially during my later streams together with @curtaincomedy​.  Lot’s of fun. And speaking of CC and stupid things, here’s a bonus sketch of Kött and MM:


Maid to Serve

TITLE: Maid to Serve

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Twenty-Seven

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that you have been sold to a slave trader to pay a debt. One day you are bought and given to Loki as a gift. He ignores you at first, but he slowly begins to notice your attention to small details in your daily tasks and your funny little quirks. He tries everything he can to seduce you, and the more you resist the more intrigued he is.

RATING: Teen and Up

NOTES : I am going away for the weekend, and I thought I would not get another chapter sorted before I left, so I am only half packed and got no shower before leaving, but a small chapter for you all, enjoy and see you soon :D 

When Wilhelm entered the room, he froze and stared between you and Loki, the God’s demeanour and your avoidance of looking at anything but the floor telling him immediately that the atmosphere had altered drastically since when he had left. “I retrieved the books you required.” He stated cautiously, handing the books to Loki.

“Put them in the other room.” Loki’s voice was strained. “And then go and see that elf of yours.”

“Are you sure?”

Keep reading

Do You Want To Be With Somebody Like Me? (18/?)

And finally, I have updated this! I know, I know, seven months is waaaay too long, and I apologize (especially to @bakerst-sherlolly and @one-amber-owl), and I will not do it again. Bad me, no cookies. But I am moving plot forward in this part, I promise! So please, enjoy.

Do You Want To Be With Somebody Like Me? - Moriarty’s return has only granted Sherlock a temporary reprieve from punishment over his actions regarding Magnussen, and when a mission involving Sebastian Moran crosses Mycroft’s desk it seems to be the perfect way for Sherlock to pay his penance. This particular mission requires Sherlock to have a paramour, however, but Mycroft has that taken care of in the form of Molly. What begins as a ruse to fool Moran slowly becomes something more real, though, and as this mission takes Sherlock and Molly across the globe chasing after a ghost he begins to realize that there is much more that he can lose this time if he makes another wrong decision.

Read Chapter 18 @ AO3 (leave comments/kudos there)!

Or start from Chapter 1!

It took nearly a week to search out his contacts in Vienna and the outlying areas to begin doing what Moran wanted him to do. He was trying to be as discrete as possible about what his intentions were; if his contacts knew he was working for Moran and therefore Moriarty’s organization, they would shrivel up, and it could incite a domino effect among many more of his contacts. He had to be extremely careful how he went about things, and the fact that Moran wanted daily updates when there were none to give because he was being so careful was extremely frustrating.

He and Molly had gone out to walk around the MuseumsQuartier, enjoying the various sights there. He had let her lead the way, pulling him wherever she fancied, his mind half there and half on how to extricate himself from the problem of possibly losing his contacts if his true connections came to light. Eventually, Molly realized he wasn’t enjoying the sights with her and soon was heading back to the car they had rented.

“I’m sorry I spoiled your day,” he said when they approached it.

She turned to face him, leaning against the car and pulling him towards her. “You just seem so lost in thought, Sherlock. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on n that mind of yours.”

He settled his hands on her waist and then looked down at her. “When I begin collecting information on the people that Moran wants and he begins forcibly making them a part of his new organization, it will become obvious the information I collected was used to ramrod them into accepting his vision. Therefore, my contacts will know I’m one of his sycophants, and they will no longer trust me.”

She reached up, playing with the scarf around his neck. “Do you have to use your contacts?” she asked.

“They’ll make it easier,” he replied.

“But would it be impossible if you didn’t use them?”

He looked over at her. “Harder, but not impossible.”

Keep reading

Run Away...Part 9

Here’s the last part of Run Away!  I am so glad that you all have enjoyed it, and be on the look-out for an announcement about he nest Spencer Reid series!  Here is the last part, comin’ ‘atcha!

(Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Epilogue)


Nestling into David’s side, the two of you mindlessly watch a Die Hard marathon on television while sharing a bowl of popcorn.  Munching on it as you feel David’s fingers slowly begin twirling into the fabric of your shirt, you begin to giggle lightly as you shoot a glance up to his face.

But his eyes were glued heavily to the television.

“Enjoying the movie there, Rossi?” you ask.

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding his head slowly.

But his fingertips continued to slowly trail down to the hem of your shirt.

“What’s been your favorite part so far?” you ask, throwing a piece of popcorn into your mouth as your body becomes fully aware of the fact that any second the pads of David’s fingers would attempt to round up and under your shirt.

“The explosions,” he says matter-of-factly.

“No…those are my favorite parts,” you say as you crinkle your nose, shifting your body closer into his side, making him lose track of his spot as you watch him clench his jaw lightly.

The pulsing of his temple gave his frustration away.

“Movie gettin’ ya down, hot stuff?” you sass as you go to throw another piece of popcorn in your mouth.

But before you could bring it to your lips, David moves quickly, the bowl of popcorn splattering along the floor as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap as your legs straddle his hips involuntarily.

Your wild eyes land on his as his hands settle on your hips.

As the movie continues to roar in the background, the popcorn crunching into the carpet, your eyes dip down to David’s hands as he slowly slides them up your hips, lightly gracing over the hem of your pants before stopping just shy of the hem of your shirt.

It was then that you slowly trekked your gaze up to David’s face, his eyes studying you intently, probably profiling your every move to make sure you were comfortable.

It was easy to feel safe with him.

“We return back to work tomorrow,” David muses lowly.

The thought made your heart sink a bit.

“I suppose so…” you trail off.

The past two weeks with him had been phenomenal.  The two of you had eaten dinner every night together, whether you cooked in or went out.  Movies were a common thing, which always led to cuddling…and usually a nap taken together on the couch.  You were able to show off your baking skills, making him both a pan of homemade lemon bars and a quick-and-easy morning breakfast of monkey bread.

He was still trying to convince you that it was just peel-apart cinnamon rolls.

“Do you think you might need more time off?”

The question hit you hard.  On the one hand, one of the reasons you took time off was to get away from Spencer and the showings of his relationship.

It was pretty clear at this point that it was no longer an issue with you.

But on the other hand, you were enjoying this unfettered time with David.  It felt natural to be with him, like you didn’t have to appear to be someone in an attempt to fit some form of ladylikeness that mothers still attempt to ingrain into their daughters.

The thought of having to abandon that for work made your heart sink.

Surely a man of his maturity wouldn’t want to be seen canoodling with a young woman like yourself.

A colleague, nonetheless.

But as you become lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized that tears had sprung to your eyes.

“Il mio amore…” David soothes, his thumb reaching up to swipe at your tears, “if you need more time-”

“No,” you choke out as you shake your head, “no…it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” David asks, his face searching yours as his hands descend, rubbing your thighs reassuringly as you close your eyes and sigh heavily.

“I just don’t want this to end, is all,” you say softly.

Furrowing his brow lightly, he dips his head to get up under your fallen face so that he can look you in your eyes.

“Why do you think it’s gonna end?” he asks.

“I mean, it’s obvious right?  We’re work colleagues.  And I pay you rent to live in your guest house.  And our age difference is going to make everything feel uncomfortable.  I mean, a man of your stature and reputation is gonna get a bad wrap dating someone my age, right?  Hotch would never allow-”

Hearing enough, David’s hands fly to your face, crashing your lips down onto his as your body bends and molds, your chest leaning deeply into his as his arm cradles your torso against his body, your knees digging into the couch as your hands press deep into his chest.

“I don’t give a damn what others think,” Rossi murmurs lowly against your lips.

“But I don’t want to-”

But you were silenced yet again with another lingering kiss.

“David, please just-”

And yet again, another kiss.

“Your mind is running away from you, bellissimo,” David says lightly, his eyes dancing between yours as you lay your head into the crook of his neck.

Your sigh pushed a burst of breath onto David’s neck, causing his fingertips to dig into your body ever-so-lightly.

“How do you want to approach this with the team?” you ask.

“We’ll be professional when we’re working, and ourselves when we aren’t,” he says matter-of-factly.

It was then that the tips of his fingers finally slid up under the hem of your shirt, dancing along the cool skin on your sides as you jump lightly, pressing your body deeper into David’s as you gasp.

“You alright?” David murmurs lowly before turning his kisses to the top of your head.

“I’m petrified,” you whisper.

It was then that David wrenched his hand from your skin, his body turning to meet yours entirely as he looks deep into your eyes, your back sinking into the couch.

Talk to me,” he urges breathlessly.

“These past couple of weeks, they’ve been-”

Swallowing deep as you lose yourself in his glittering eyes, you sigh a heavy breath before closing your own.

“I’m scared that when we go back to work, we’ll lose this,” you whisper.

“I’m scared that work will start to overwhelm us, and we’ll let it come between us,” you breathe as your jaw begins to quiver.

“I’m scared that Hotch won’t let us date while on the same team, and one of us’ll have to transfer,” you choke out.

“But…”

Trailing off as you open your eyes back up, tears threatening to fall as you see David’s brow furrow in worry, you raise your hand to cup his cheek as you raise up to kiss the tip of his nose lightly.

“…I think what scares me the most-”

“It’s alright,” David whispers to you, feeling your hand begin to tremble against his skin as he raises his to cup yours, moving his lips to kiss the palm of your hand lightly.

“I’m scared that when we go back to work, that you’ll realize this was a fling, and I’ll be back to pinning over someone who doesn’t want me.”

You didn’t want to admit it.

You didn’t want to think that Spencer had compromised you that much.

But he did…

…and you couldn’t help but worry.

“Oh, Y/N,” David sighs, pulling you close into him as he settles his chin into the crook of your neck.

His heartbeat was the most soothing sound in the world.

“Hotch knows,” he says.

Those two words made you sit up straight, taking David along with you as you look him dead in his eyes.

“What?” you breathe, your eyes growing with shock.

“He doesn’t have any sort of updated information, but he knows,” David states.

“H-…how?” you stammer.

It was now or never.

“When you were in love with Spencer-”

“I was never ‘in love’ with Spencer,” you reassure him.

“When you were imagining what it would be like to be with Spencer,” Rossi corrects, “Hotch saw the way I would look at you.  Honestly, I didn’t even realize I was doing it.  Not for a while.”

“The way you looked at me?” you ask lightly as you cock your head a bit.

“I think…that I was taken by you before I even realized what that meant,” he admits.

It was your turned to be stunned.

“Oh, David,” you breathe, your eye searching his face as the weight of his statement descends upon your conscious mind.

He cared for you even when you cared for someone else.

“So trust me when I tell you,” he says as he takes your hands within his, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he kisses them softly, “that this isn’t a fling.  And that work will never come between us.  And that the team is our family, and just wants to see us happy.”

You felt your breathing shallow out as David’s eyes slowly make their way back up to yours.

“If the rent makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to pay it.  If living here makes you uncomfortable, I’ll help find you somewhere else to live.  If revealing this to the team-”

But now?  It was your turn to interrupt him with a kiss.

“Your mind is running away from you, bello,” you smirk.

“I could let it run in a different direction if you’d like,” he smirks coyly, quickly laying you back onto your back as his body hovers over yours.

“I think I might like this train of thought,” you playfully lull, your head raising up as your lips encompass his in a soft, long, sensual kiss.

It was then that you felt it again.

The pads of his fingers trickling up your bare sides.

“Oh…” you sigh lightly into his lips as he grins against yours.

“Keep running?” he asks, his eyes searching your face as you flutter yours open.

“Run away, David,” you breathe as you wrap your arms around his neck, guiding his lips back to yours as you ghost them together.

“Run away,” you whisper.

5 years, wow
How many people I had the opportunity to meet in this five years? How many projects I dreamed? How many I could turn into reality?
Looking at this project, that I started from scratch, I feel so proud.
At the begining I never imagined getting this far. I dindn’t know to much about blogs, or the Internet itself, I learned slowly and building this virtual place I can call mine.
I was just a teenager posting things about my fave comic, today I am a young adult who still feel the same love for this 15 years comic’s series, that was and remains fantastic.
I am so grateful to you, my followers. Because all I do it’s to share with you, so that you can enjoy. When I read your messages, when I see that someone just followed me, when I read the comments you make when reblog something (yes, I read all), all I can think is “Wow, I’m glad that people like what I do! I will I try harder and do more good stuff”
But, sometime I just can’t, come on, I have a busy life, we all have.
Even if today I’m not as active as I was before, these five years with this blog have been wonderful. I would never come this far if it were not for you. Thank you very very much.
Let’s celebrate!

#5yearsofwearewitch 

Maid To Serve

TITLE: Maid to Serve

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Nineteen

AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that you have been sold to a slave trader to pay a debt. One day you are bought and given to Loki as a gift. He ignores you at first, but he slowly begins to notice your attention to small details in your daily tasks and your funny little quirks. He tries everything he can to seduce you, and the more you resist the more intrigued he is.

RATING: Teen and Up

NOTE: Sorry about the delay, I know a lot of people have been wanting more, but my computer would not, for some reason, let me open the folder that I have all the chapters for this in, but I managed to get this one sorted in the end, so enjoy.

“Sit!”

“I am not a hound Wilhelm!”

“No, you are not, the hound would know better than to try and get up.” He retorted in frustration. “Seriously Girlie, if I have to tie you to the bed, I will.”

Keep reading

I promised myself I would do more Dalemark drawings before starting another book, but then I went and read Fire and Hemlock instead. I would probably feel more guilty if I hadn’t have enjoyed it so much, and it’s  just the book I needed at that moment. Had a tough time with the ending, just like everyone else, but I am slowly beginning to accept it’s vagueness. I will get back to Dalemark drawings though, I know my Tumblr is badly neglected.