i just wanted your face in my blog

“My mom is better than yours” - Batmom x Damian Wayne

Summary : The Kent family have invited your family over for dinner, and of course, as usual, Damian and Jon don’t quite…behave. 

I just wanted to write a short little cute fic with Damian and his mama because I just love the idea of Damian being super proud of his Batmom and blahblahblah maybe it’s a bit too long sorry. I hope you will like it

My masterlist blog : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com

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Bruce thought it was extremely cute, how Damian’s eyes always seem to shine when looking at you. How his face brightens. Even how ashamed he is when you scold him when he’s too cocky, or simply being a plain brat. 

The kid thought you were just the best damn thing on this planet. 

He admired everything you did…

The Batman had to admit it, sometimes, he was a bit jealous. 

But mostly, he just thought it was really cute, to see his boy completely accepting you as his mother. Hell, he was even calling you “Mama” (damn period dramas) now !

You were the one he considered his mom (Talia actually tried to kill you a few times because of that, jealous beyond everything of you and the love “her” son seemed to have for you…She tried harder when Damian told her that she was “never his mom”, that you showed him what a real mother was, and also, when she realized how in love Bruce was with you, while she had to drug him to get him to sleep with her…Yeah, pretty jealous. You always pulled through though, mostly thanks to your boys, husband and superfriends).

Well, to be honest, he never doubted the fact that you’d get along with him. You had a special effect on people. If you really put your mind to it, you can convince anyone to do what you want, you can win anyone’s heart in a little flutter of your damn beautiful eyelashes…

When Damian first met you, he was most disagreeable, and you…grounded him. “Young man, in your room, no dessert for you tonight”, and he was so stunned that he did it, though he didn’t even listen to his father at the time, and thought he knew everything better than everyone ! He knew you only for a few minutes, and he already had more respect for you than for anyone else. 

Sometimes, Bruce suspected that you might be a meta-human, because the power you could have over people with your magnificent aura was…something. But he tested you in every way possible, and he had to admit that, you were just like him. A simple human. A simple human with incredible abilities. 

Yes. Bruce always thought it was extremely cute the way his son, your son to the both of you, almost worshipped you. 

Well, your older kids did too. Again, there was just a way about you…

You started dating Bruce when he first took young Richard Grayson in, about twelve years ago (right after Talia drugged him actually), when he was barely 8 years old and heartbroken because of his parents’ death…And though you were merely twenty, quite younger than Bruce really, you took your job as a surrogate mother for Dick very seriously. Quickly, the boy asked you if he could call you mom, if his own mother would be mad and…well, the hug you gave him was answer enough. Though he was twenty and had his own flat in Bludhaven now, Dick was still quite the momma’s boy. 

It was pretty much the same with Jason. You winked at him and told him it was pretty cool and brave to try and steal the batmobile’s wheels, and boom, you had him wrapped around your little fingers. He lived for your bedtime stories and cuddle when he had trouble sleeping. 

Tim was even easier to treat you like his mom. After only a few months he was already introducing you as his mother, and that was that. Just natural. Unlike Jason and Dick, his birth mother wasn’t exactly…the best, and you gave him a chance to have a real mom. One that would die for her son, do anything for him,  even if it meant staying up all night to sing him soothing songs while he had the flu, putting ridiculous costumes to go trick or treating with him, or, more recently, since he was now 15 (already ?!), gaming with him until you’d both pass out out of exhaustion. 

Quite like Tim, Damian never had the love of a “real” mother. How it should be. The mom taking care of her son, no matter what. Not letting him do whatever he wants, but making sure he’s happy…and so, just like his older brothers before him, he came to simply adore you. 

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ohleonine  asked:

Hi there. I recently had an ace anon message me (just within the past few days) and recommend your blog to me as far as understanding asexual folks. I want you to know that your blog has helped me understand so much better and I had no idea that this was apart of LGBTQ+ history and the different forms of oppression that aces face. I also want to apologize to any that follow me that have felt unwelcome on my blog from what I've posted. And thank you for teaching me about yourself & the (1 of 2)

Asexual community. To learn more about aces and LGBTQ+ history has opened my mind more and I have an eagerness to be more inclusive. Ace Anon, I hope that at some point you feel welcome again. I am eager to learn and be more inclusive because I know that a large part of the LGBTQ+ community is not. You are all important and valid. So, ace anon, if you’re reading, thank you for all that you said and where you pointed me to to learn. (2 of 2)

That same anon, I believe, came to me to tell me you were coming. I was honestly a little worried because I’m not sure if my blog is the best resource for aspec information, and it can be pretty discourse-y most of the time, but I’m really glad you at least found some information that was helpful!

It makes me really happy, and it is very sweet of you to strive to make everyone feel welcome. You seem like a very kind person, and I’m sure any meanness on your part was not out of cruelty. Thank you for being open-minded. :)

Hopefully that anon sees your message!!

–Mod Mercy

6

part 4 of taekook photographer/model AU: jungkook’s website update + couple interview.

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Q: just recently, there is a new category on jungkook’s website that is called ‘dear jk’. can you tell us more about it?

V: i added it! i took all the photos that are posted on that category by myself. isn’t jungkook handsome? my face is all over his website, so i thought, why don’t jungkook’s too?
JK: of course your face would be all over my website. you are the model since the start, taehyung. 
V: alright, i’ll admit that i just want to spread the love. i am you number one fan after all.
JK: that reminds me, my senior in the photographer community told me that my blog is slowly becoming a taehyung fansite instead of a photography blog. i might as well be one, actually. i am his number one fan after all.
V: people will get sick of me if they only see my face all the time though!
JK: no way, tae. joke aside, i started my blog with posting photos of scenery and taehyung anyway, and have been consistently doing so. therefore, i believe my blog has stayed the same since the beginning until now. well, aside from the addition of dear jk and vlogs.

Q: the two of you have been working together a lot for recent photoshoots.

JK: that is true. i used to focus solely on landscape and panorama, but my senior told me to expand my knowledge and skills by also trying other genres, so i decided to take up offers from fashion magazines too. it has been an interesting experience. i’m also interested in aerial photography, i would like to try it one day.

Q: since both of you are currently the rising youths in your respective fields, there must also be people who are trying to bring you down. how do you deal with such challenge?

V: i want to be cool and say that i don’t care, but the person behind v is after all, just an ordinary human namely kim taehyung. i do feel down and scared, but i am also really lucky because i have jungkook by my side. whenever i start to listen to strangers’ voices, jungkook would comfort me and tell me that everything is going to be alright. 
JK: what people say and think about us are beyond our control. the truth is, however, it’s he and i that know about ourselves the best, so i always tell myself to just work harder for the sake of our dreams.
V: jungkook has grown to be so much stronger and more mature over the years. sometimes i can’t believe that he is the same kid that was so unsure about his dream before, but i’m glad that he is the way he is now.
JK: and taehyung is actually much more sensitive than he appears to be. he thinks a lot when he is alone. we do have ups and downs, but we also have deep faith in each other, and that makes us stronger. 

Q: do you have any goals for the future?

JK: i want to travel around the world and takes lots of wonderful photographs with taehyung. it will be really fun to capture all the differences of each culture and scenery of one city and another.
V: me too! we have had this goal since the beginning, and i can’t wait until the day we can finally turn it into reality.  

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[ part 1: rough draft || part 2: taehyung’s interview || part 3: jungkook’s interview ]

By Way of Spontaneity (Part 8)

Summary: On a whim, Bucky declares you to be his girlfriend to his grandma and mother. They’re eager to meet you and he asks you to pretend to be with him for just one dinner with his family. But is that really all?

Word Count: 1,074

Warnings: None.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

A/N: INBOX IS HERE. I know you wanna scream. :) 

Originally posted by pandasubaru


Bucky snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, calling out your name. After what seemed like hours, you blinked and looked up at him, your face crestfallen. He slowed down the car significantly as he leaned over to you, to try to see your screen.

You shook your head and brought the phone to your chest. “No.”

“What’s wrong with you? What did you see?”

Before you could answer, Nat’s screeching voice tore through the device’s speaker and you startled, bringing it up to your ear.

“H-Hello?”

“Did you see it? Oh, my God! Did you see the freakin’ picture?”

“Yes,” you answered curtly. “I saw it.”

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#harrypottersummer is back!

Welcome to harrypottersummer 2017! It’s happening! You get a reread! And you get a reread! Everybody gets a reread! 

So, without further ado -

Cancel all your plans for the summer. We’re rereading Harry Potter.


What’s harrypottersummer?

It’s the most beautiful time of year, aka the time where Potterheads get to reread the entire Harry Potter series over the course of one summer - together! harrypottersummer was created last year, everyone who joined in had a blast, so this is round two and the whole thing is on a very good path to become an annual event.


How does it work?

Starting on June 16th, everyone who cares to join will start reading the Harry Potter series all over, first book to last, whilst sharing but their reading progress as well as headcanons, fanart, fanfics, edits, theories, anecdotes and literally anything else you can think of, on any social media platform you can think of using the hashtag #harrypottersummer. Done!


What’s this year’s schedule?

Last year, we went for a book per week, which was nice for those of us who were stuck with little to no wifi for the bigger part of the reread (-points to self-), but was stressful for busier folks. This year, only the first three books will be getting a week each, and every book from Goblet of Fire onward will be getting two! Yay!

  • June 16th - June 22nd 2017: Philosopher’s Stone Week
  • June 23rd - June 29th 2017: Chamber of Secrets Week
  • June 30th - July 6th 2017: Prisoner of Azkaban Week
  • July 7th - July 20th 2017: Goblet of Fire Week
  • July 21st - August 3rd 2017: Order of the Phoenix Week
  • August 4th - August 17th 2017: Half-Blood Prince Week
  • August 18th - August 31st 2017: Deathly Hallows Week
  • September 1st 2017: MEETUP AT KING’S CROSS STATION, LONDON


Wait, whaat? Meetup???

Well, yes meetup, assuming it all works out as planned! In honour of September 1st, 2017 also being Epilogue Day, anyone who happens to be in London that day is more than welcome to stop by at King’s Cross station to come and wave our childhood goodbye one last time. Are you ready? I’m not ready. Nope.

Make sure you check this blog for updates on the meetup, as more details will hopefully be available soon. For now, just know that I’ll be there, @ronaldswheezy will be there, come say hi and have a chat and take selfies and get emotional over our childhood. Why not. Might be fun.


How do I participate?

  • Grab your Harry Potter books, cancel your life, and start rereading.
  • Spread your progress like wildfire. This includes any form of social media you choose to participate in. Tumblr! Snapchat! Instagram! YouTube! Twitter! All the things!
  • Get creative. Write fanfics. Make fanart. Make edits. Make playlists. Start cosplaying. Write a song. Build your own Lego Hogwarts. Nothing is off limits.
  • And finally, tag absolutely EVERYTHING with #harrypottersummer. Everything. Even if it’s just a 4am text post that goes ‘do dementors poop?’.


If you’ve got any more questions, the ask box is open! A calendar page with the schedule and an FAQ face and other things are coming up too, as soon as I get around to setting them all up. If you want to message me on my main blog, you find me @stuckwith-harry

Happy harrypottersummer! <3

Back 2 U -- Taeyong Soulmate AU

A/N: A soulmate au (first words your soulmate says are on your wrist in black and turn white when they’re said) with Taeyong of NCT. This is my first venture into writing for groups other than Seventeen so I hope you enjoy! If you do, don’t be afraid to send me feedback or a request!

I used a member of another group simply to have a name to use! I am in no way trying to slander that member or the group.

Trigger warning: Unhealthy relationship (not with Taeyong, don’t worry)

Genre: slight angst, fluff-ish

Pairing: Reader x Taeyong

Word Count: 4k+


Originally posted by yoon-to-the-oh

Out of all the collections of words, numbers, and letters there were in the world, you thought that 1:27 A.M. was the least romantic pairing one could have inked on their wrist. Your friends seemed to agree.

“Come on, Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings!” Donghyuck insisted, reaching out to grab your wrist and pull you back down into your seat.

You were at McDonald’s late at night with your friends, trying to ignore your constantly ringing phone that sat on the table before you.

“He’s an idiot.” Mark added, trying to make you laugh and forget Donghyuck’s teasing over your tattoo. Donghyuck hit his shoulder,  but didn’t disagree, which sent you into a fit of giggles.

“You should turn it off.” Jaehyun said from his place to your left, nodding his head toward the phone.

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anonymous asked:

hi i love your blog! basically i have a problem with describing characters... i have tons of inspirational boards on pinterest that help me gauge their appearance but i don't want my reader to assume everyone is beautiful, perfect, etc. is there any like prominent "ugly" facial features you can think of to make my characters more realistic looking? i don't want anyone thinking they're all models

Hi, and thank you! I’m glad this blog is helpful.

I can certainly give you a list things society defines as physical imperfections, both for face and body. Keep in mind that appearance is mostly subjective – what one person finds attractive another could think is butt-ugly. So just because you give your character one or more of these traits doesn’t mean they’re not attractive to other characters, if you need or want them to be – adding an imperfection just prevents Mary-Sueism.

Face:
- eyes set too wide apart
- a runaway chin (meaning they don’t have a defined chin)
- a big/hooked nose
- a too-sharp nose
- a large forehead
- a double chin
- eyes set too close together, which makes the face look broader
- crooked/rotten/missing/discolored teeth
- too-thin lips
- a chin that juts out
- too-light eyebrows or eyelashes (if you can’t see eyebrows or eyelashes, it makes the eyes look too wide and kind of scary)

Body:
- dark hair follicles, so girls’ legs or guys’ faces never look completely smooth
- greasy/frizzy/damaged/dead hair
- extra body fat
- cellulite
- being too skinny
- stretch marks
- scars
- physical handicaps
- skin tags
- birthmarks
- a lot of body hair
- ugly feet
- pudgy hands

General:
- acne
- sweating too much/having an unpleasant body odor
- oily skin
- dry/ashy skin
- freckles (I personally love freckles, but some regard them as flaws)
- skin conditions like eczema, rosacea, and plaque psoriasis

I hope this helps! If you need anything else, please feel free to ask. - @authors-haven

5

… when skellies get elctricuted? idk man.

hah, fuck anatomy, I am having a helluva fight with this artblock, so just getting something stamped as DONE is a fucking miracle

also - I have too many different ways I want them to look as humans, I had such a hard time picking a design… and then, out of my hands this crap came to be. Im sorry, it’ll be better next time pfffff

3 Billion Dollars [Part 6] - G Dragon Mafia!AU

Originally posted by julla

Summary: When your father owes 3 billion dollars to the mafia, he must repay his debt. Although things don’t  exactly the way he hoped.

Genre: angst? a little fluffy at some parts. this low key is another chapter filler

Warning: None really here, at least I don’t think

{part 1} {part 2} {part 3} {part 4} {part 5} {part 6} {part 7} {part 8} {part 9} {part 10} {part 11} {part 12} {part 13} {part 14} {part 15}

A/N: So I’m sorry to my Kpop Fans if you see Teen Wolf stuff on your dash or my blog. It will not change, I love Teen Wolf and it has helped me through a lot. I’m sorry if this bothers you. Anyways, like always my inbox is open and I will always reply to everyone. I hope you enjoy!

~ Admin Brooklyn

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ji Yong hated mornings. He just wanted to sleep, and the clearly irritated expression on his face showed it. He had to start his day though. A meeting, then grabbing Seungri and going for a quick check up on a special talkative someone. Ji Yong raked a hand through his hair, walking out of his room and down the hall. His eyes met with Youngbae’s tired ones.

“How are you doing?” Youngbae sighed rubbing his eyes with his hands. “Why the hell did you make me do this Ji Yong?”

“You were the only one that I trust and was free. Plus she knows you, maybe that’ll help her cope with this.” Youngbae nodded his head, sleep hanging in his eyes. Ji Yong looked at the door, a little anxious to see her. He needed to get his day started. He had an important meeting that he called for. No skipping this one.

“She was crying until, I think, two last night.” Youngbae’s words made Ji Yong perk up. He was paying full attention to you now. concern and a little regret on his face. Youngbae looked at him expectedly.

“I’m just gonna go in and check on her.” Ji Yong mumbled. He opened the cream door, and light flooded into the dark room. The dark colored walls turned everything into a shadow, the only other light source was the light shining from the window. As he stepped into the room, he saw you.

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“Do We Have To?”

Summary: Bucky keeps ripping your panties. You take him to Victoria`s Secret to buy some more.

Word Count: 460

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: fluffiness, illusions to smut

A/N: okay, my first fic got a lot of love, so i wrote this fluffy drabble! please leave feedback! drop a request in my ask box if you want! ill tag a few of my favorite blogs at the bottom. *Part 2 is posted*


Originally posted by itsjustmycrazyvibe

“Bucky! C’mon you know that was my last pair!”

 “I’m sorry baby. I just couldn’t wait. I will buy you all new pairs. I promise!” Bucky used his classic puppy dog eyes and signature pout. He knew you could never say to him when he made that face.

 “Fine. But we are going now. Let’s go, get your pants back on. I`ll be in the car.”

 “B-but y/n, if you can’t tell I gotta little problem. Just please we can have a quickie then we can go.”

 “No Bucky, we are leaving now, if you`re good then I might make it up to you in the new lingerie I will be buying!”

“Oh Doll, now you`re speakin` my language! Let’s go!”    

One Car Ride Later…

               Bucky walked in to Victoria`s secret not realizing what he had just gotten himself into. He was overwhelmed with the amount of lace and silk in every corner of the store. He had no idea that there were that many styles of panties! He didn’t understand how girls could walk around with strings up their asses all day. He was scared, confused, and intrigued all at once.

 “Bucky, baby, this way. I need to pick out the ones over here. You can help me if you want.”

You spoke with a smirk on your face. You knew he was going to go crazy over the styles you picked. His favorite pair you have ever owned were the lace cheekies he ripped on your first time being intimate together.

  “D-doll, there are so many colors and styles. Just pick whatever you want, y/n. I will gladly buy them. Maybe you should get this.”

He picked up a lacey black corset that went with a silk robe. You knew the exact reason he picked the outfit. Your two-year anniversary was coming up and he had planned on a fancy dinner and not leaving the bed for the rest of the night and the following day.

You giggled quietly, pulling the outfit from his hands to add to your haul. You had picked out some boy shorts, cheeky panties you knew he already loved, a couple lace thongs knowing he would be very much into them, and of course panties just for your period. No one wears fancy panties on their period!

 “Okay babe, you ready to go? I think I have everything I need.”

You started walking over to the cashier when Bucky stopped you to whisper into your ear,

 “Maybe you should try them on first. I mean we have to see if they fit.”

You could feel the smirk on his lips. You quickly grabbed his hand and led him to the fitting rooms. You knew you would have to buy everything in your bag.

Tags:

@papi-chulo-bucky @ursulaismymiddlename @cumonbucky @totheendofthelinepal @opaque-daydream @written-s0ul @bucky-plums-barnes

Originally posted by dunbarfeels

i want to punch your cute face | isaac lahey

anon request:  1, 3 and 10 with Isaac if is possible ✨ thanks babe i love u and ur blog 💖

1. “is that my shirt?”

3. “enough with the sarcasm.”

10. “I want to punch your cute face.”

warnings: none just fluff

a/n: holy shit im so sorry it’s been so long, i’ve been so lazy and i just haven’t had any motivation to write but i love you more. its really short too ugh i hate myself,, but i do have other requests that i will try to get to asap

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“C'mon Toph! Suki is going with that Fire Face to the party!! I just want to make her a LITTLE jealous..! Can you PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE pretend to be my girlfriend?”

“She KNOWS I’m your best friend, Meathead!”

“That’s why it’s PERFECT! She’ll see you, and be CRAZY JEALOUS! C'mon, Toph! What could possibly go wrong..??”

Oh, Sokka. We’ve all heard that line before!

(Only Sokka would not realize his best friend is ACTUALLY in love with him! )

My Art Blog

annalisekeatin  asked:

Hi! I'd seen some of your art on my dashboard but today I spent some time seeing it on your blog (I even went through the whole supergirl tag) and I love it so much! Not only are your illustrations effortlessly heartwarming, they're also very funny. I laughed at "You've been framed for a heinous crime by your evil genocidal mother. Move back 20 spaces." for longer than I'd like to admit. I just really wanted to thank you for bringing a smile to my face and inspiring me to create more art.

Thank you. This message made me happy. Keep making that art.

1769 - Steve x Reader

Summary:  You’re an Avenger by the name Anima, whose powers are immortality and invulnerability. You’re on a mission with a few from the team when your abilities are put to a test.

Warnings: Light swearing, light violence.

Words: +2 900

A/N: Please request! I’m up for writing just about anyting! Also, this is my first writing on this blog so please go easy on me :)))))))))

Originally posted by flyngdream

Truth be told, I quite like the thrill of warfare. Call me damaged and psychotic all you want, but there’s something about it that gets me riled up like nothing else. Perhaps it’s the patriotism in me igniting for fighting for my country? Perhaps it’s the built up rage being relieved by punching a few bad guys in the face? Perhaps it’s the fact that I know I won’t fall on the battlefield? I can’t really put a finger on the reason as to why I enjoy it so much. Maybe I am a lunatic? I don’t think I’d know if I were one. Lunacy tends to shield itself rather well from the person it possess. Let’s just say I wouldn’t be surprised if a doctor went on to tell me I was medically mad. The amount of bloodbaths I’ve gone through with a smile on my face are too many to count on my both hands.

“Y/N?” Steve called out as he looked across the Quinjet from his seat to mine, a crease carved between his brows. “We lost you there for a second.”

Had they? I didn’t realize I had been so deep in my daydreaming. “Sorry, just memorizing the Declaration of Independence in my head.” She made fun of the Captain of the America who always rolled his eyes at her nationalistic comments.

“I was going over the plan. Are you okay with being ground-bound on the west side? According to the little intel we have, that’s the side that’s the most guarded area of the premises. Lang and I will head for the center to get the files while Romanoff and Barton guard the entrance. All you need to focus on is the-”

“Bomb, yes, I got it.” She saluted only to receive yet another eye-roll.

“I hate to interrupt, but am I the only one worried that this bomb might go off? Who says it’s not an atomic bomb? We could put a big hole in the middle of Canada’s map here.” Scott said, anxiously looking between the group of five who had been assigned the mission to infiltrate the newly created Hydra facility in the middle of the cold, harsh Northwest Territories.

“It’s not atomic and it won’t blow up. If it does however, I can’t promise that I’ll go to your funeral.” She leaned her head back casually and shut her eyes to rest for a moment.

“Oh- oh you douche. That’s a low blow.” Scott whined.

“Stop it, both of you. This is a serious mission that we have in front of us. Hydra have never had a permanent structure this close to America before. If I were you, I’d take this a little more seriously. God knows what they’re up to out here.” Steve lectured before his eyes trailed out the window to the seemingly endless forests spreading out beneath them. He remained staring out for a while with an empty look in his eyes before returning his focus to within the aircraft. “How far off are we?”

“T minus 2 minutes, according to this shitty GPS system Tony upgraded to.” Natasha informed from her seat in the cockpit.

 ”You know I’m on the line, right?“ Tony’s voice erupted into everyone’s earpiece. ”Talk shit about my equipment agin and you might just have to use your own.“

“I’ll happily do that anyway. Hell, even the GPS on my phone is better than this.”

“Stop!” Steve repeated, louder and more urgently this time. I looked at him and could see the worry in his eyes which was an unsettling sight. The whole mission was really setting him on edge. Hydra had been his arch nemesis since day one as Captain America. Maybe she didn’t know everything about them, but as far as her knowledge stretched, Hydra had never left Europe in this way before, not by settling down at least. Maybe she was too uneducated about the subject to even assume how things had been and how they were, but Steve really seemed to dislike that they were so close this time around.

“We’re approaching.” Natasha broke the short silence which had filled up the Quinjet awkwardly. “I don’t know how high tech these guys are, but if they have radars, we’ve been on them for a couple of minutes at least.”

“Right. Just prepare for drop-off and we’ll handle things as we go. Y/L/N, you’re up first.” Steve ordered and I simply nodded. I unbuckled and stood up, looking down on my black and grey suit with imbedded with hundreds of vibranium disks, making it flexible yet damage-safe of incoming projectiles of as good as any kind. I slid my finger across the keypad by the back and the mechanism to the door began to buzz as the hanger lowered. Air whirled inside violently and wipped my ponytail around my neck to my throat and I narrowed my eyes as I observed the ground that no longer was so far beneath us. There was straight road which cut through the forest, leading up to the Hydra outpost with at least four guard towers along its way that I could see. No doubt there were more around the facility itself.

“Ready for drop off?” Clint, who had been silent for the hour prior, called back to make sure I was good to go. I held up a thumbs up, and on cue, the jet slowed down and steadied whilst hovering in the air.

I exhaled deeply before turning my back to the open back of the aircraft and closing my eyes again, feeling the wind grab onto my snug attire as I let myself fall backwards. As I continued to fall I peaked my eyes open, seeing the Quinjet flying across the grounds to where Steve and Scott would be dropped off. As a couple of seconds passed, I arched my back and raised my arms above my head skillfully until my body swung around in the air and aimed with my feet down. Only a split second went by before I landed with a ground breaking thud, literally. I would like to think that I timed the turn due to skill, but knowing myself it was most likely because of coincidence.

As I stood there, thanking higher forces that I had spared myself from an embarrassing landing with my whole back facing down, bullets began to pepper at my side. I slowly turned towards their source only to find three Hydra soldiers brutally shouting as they did little to none in damage. As they began to realize that themselves, their facial features turned from offensive to defensive and their open fire ceased until none existent.

“I already hate you guys…” I couldn’t help but mumble as I picked up speed with the three soldiers in my sight. In panic, they opened fire again. Bullets rained down on me like a goddamn, tropical storm and I could feel them ricochet off of both my armor and my skin. When I finally reached them, I grabbed a hold of one and threw him over the two others, knocking them all to the ground. They tried to scramble to their feet but before they could I held one of their rifles in my hand and grabbed the end of the barrel.

“Don’t…” I used the weapon as a golf club and hit the head of one of the men, knocking him out. “Be…” I hit another. “Dicks!” I hit the end of the weapon in the head of the remaining soldier and let it go afterwards, the rifle flying down the cliffs which began shortly outside of the fence surrounding the premises.

“Language.” Steve commented into my earpiece and I couldn’t help but let out a long groan.

“Don’t you start with that again.” I warned him, not in the mood to have my profanity pointed out. As the line remained silent after that I grabbed the two rifles left on the ground before I continued my way inside. I put my free hand into the net fencing and tore it apart, creating a hole large enough for me to enter through. A soldier patrolling on the roof of the concrete structure opened fire and I took one of the rifles in my hand and threw it like a dart, knocking the soldier to the ground like someone had slapped a fly with a flapper.

“Tell me when you got eyes on your target, Anima.” It was Steve again, and my focus was pulled from reality upon hearing him call me by my superhero name, or whatever I was. He never used it, never used any of the names we all were called. I can’t honestly tell if I like it or not. I can’t tell in what way he said it either. Unemotionally and negatively, or motivationally and inspiringly?

“Yes, sir.” I couldn’t think of a witty answer. A few soldiers had rushed out upon hearing the shooting and fired at my head and upper body, a few bad shots hitting my legs and the ground behind me. “Could you not?” I turned towards them. As they didn’t as much as stutter in their attack, I took the last rifle and threw it towards them. They flew back into the wall beside the door where they had exited and unconsciously sagged to the ground into a pile.

Anima was not something I came up with myself, but I did allow it to stick around. Originally it had been Peter’s idea. When I first became part of the team, months after things had settled after their civil dispute, a late night in the Stark Tower after an all too long party, a rather tipsy Tony insisted that I should have a superhero name. I had refused at first but everyone else had liked Tony’s idea and before I knew it, Peter had names me after the Latin word for life. It grew in the team and I didn’t really argue about the naming, so it stuck. Now, that A clings onto the upper parts of my suit like an emblem I should be proud to wear, which I actually kind of am.

I was inside before I knew it but things didn’t exactly looked how my mind had pictured. There was a huge room like that of a hangar, a few cars in one end and a dozen of guards surrounding my obvious target in the very center. They opened fire, just like all their coworkers, and I pushed forwards in their peppering ammunition.

“God that’s loud.” Clint commented on the line, referring to noise from my end.

“I’ve tried to tell them to stop a few times now but it seems they don’t want to listen.” I replied as I reached the men. They tried to engage in hand to hand combat instead but I began to knock out one by one slowly but surely. As my focus was on grabbing a guy from the floor and toss him down the large room, a crash filled my left ear as I felt a poke at my cheek. I turned my head around just in time to see the shards of a knife fall to the floor, a soldier standing with its handle by my head where he had attempted to pierce it.

“Did- did you just try to stab me, in the face?” I questioned him, watching the blood drain from his own face in absolute horror. “Do you know how much I like my face?!” I grabbed hold of his body armor and slammed him down to the ground. His helmet pushed up over his forehead but he was still able to see. “Did you seriously think I’d let you get away with that?”

I waited, gave him time to come up with some kind of an answer, but as he began to whimper in fear and rattle like a dry leaf in the wind, I used my head against his own to juggernaut his ass to sleep. I rose to my feet, eyes locking onto the bomb centered in the great hall when I noticed the small screen on it, my limbs numbing upon realization.

“Fuck!” My hands reflexively went to my head to pull at my hair, but it was tightly kept back and I felt my hands drop to my sides.

“Lang-”

“It has a timer!” I interrupted Steve, definitely not in the mood to be scolded cause of my language. “The bomb has a fucking timer on two minutes!”

“What?” It was Natasha, not wanting to believe what I was saying.

“One minute fifty seconds! There are no buttons on it, no wires. I can’t disarm it!” I could feel my breaths becoming shallow, my heart racing inside my chest. I’ve never been worried about dying, simply because I can’t, but everyone I know doesn’t have the blessing in a curse of being immortal and invulnerable. The blast radius of the bomb could be the size of the room it was in, but most likely it would wipe out the entire base and then some. Hell, even what Scott said about it being an atomic one seemed plausible when the timer was ticking down right before my very own eyes.

“Scott, you need to get to Y/N and get inside the bomb. We need to disarm it..” Steve ordered and I just shook my head, not caring that no one was around to see me do it.

“There’s no time! I’m improvising.” I watched as the timer went past one minute as I picked it up, cradling the cylindric piece of metal in my arms. I could hear Steve yell something about not doing anything stupid through my earpiece, but frankly, I couldn’t care less of what he had to say. I was holding a bomb and god knows how much it’ll take down with it if it goes off. I emerged from the door I had entered through, almost tripping over the soldiers still hanging around outside. I began to turn the corner when more billets began to rain down and I threw myself back to the safety of the wall. That way was a no go, so to the left it was.

I walked around the other corner of the extended part of the facility, a clearing which seemed to be a landing area for helicopters and such expanding before me. I glanced down at the bomb, seeing that the timer was down to forty already. “I’m north west of my drop-off point and I really need you guys not to come here right now.” I said as I came to the middle of the landing platform, kneeling to the ground with the bomb resting against my thighs.

“Y/N, I see you.” It was Steve. I looked up only to see him and Scott further away, far enough so that I couldn’t see their faces properly. “Don’t do this. We don’t know if you’ll survive!”

“Get back, Captain!” I called out, probably audible physically as well as over the intercom. “I walked around Hiroshima the day after the bomb dropped. I kissed a guy who died of the plague, whilst he was kissing me! I’ll be fine!”

“You’ve never contained a bomb before, you stubborn idiot! Drop it and run!” Steve truly begged now.

I looked down towards the timer, seeing it count down to ten. I took long breaths, feeling my body relax as I cradled over the bomb and covered as much of it as I could, a smile spreading on my face. “Cover your ears, guys. This one is gonna be loud-”

The bomb detonated. Flames whirled out from the areas where her body hadn’t covered it. Steve and Scott flew into the wall behind them as the shockwave rammed into them. The ground quakes at their feet and the Hydra base around them rattled in the bombs wake. Steve crawled up to his hands and knees before grabbing ahold of the wall for support. His knees buckled but he managed to stand, eyes gazing out over the helipad where he saw nothing but smoke.

“No…” He felt his heart sink. “No, no, no. Please-”

Steve went quiet as the smoke began to clear out, my body being detectable in its midst. I brushed sooth off of my attire, pouring as it stained the grey fabric black.

“Are you kidding me? I just cleaned this.” I tried to rub it with my fabric clad hand, my fingers peaking out from the fingerless gloves being just as black as them thanks to the sooth which was there too, along with the rest of my body.

“Oh you f-…” Steve cut himself off, beginning to jog my way. I tried to not look over at him as if I hadn’t noticed him. Instead, I nonchalantly continued my useless attempts in cleaning myself up. As Steve from out of nowhere was an arms length away, I looked up only to have two, huge arms wrapped around me. My eyes blew open and my body remained stiff as a stick as he continued to hug me without remorse.

“Uh… Steve? You good?” I questioned as I tried to wiggle my arms free and could feel him tighten his grip of me instead. After a few more seconds he let go and looked into my eyes, his being burning red from the smoke around us.

“You’re a damn idiot, you know that?” He seemed to wait for an answer, and I awkwardly broke eye contact before smiling again.

“I was born in 1769, Steve. I think I’ll live a little longer.”

BTS Reaction - He Cheats on You/requested

Anonymous said: can you do a bts request on after he cheats on you? and like he’s trying to get you to forgive him and you may or may not want to? sorry i just love angst! Thank you!!! love your blog <3

Jungkook:

After three months on tour, Jungkook comes home only to find you fuming in the kitchen. You thrust your phone into his face and he sees a picture of him and a random girl holding hands. The argument leaves the two of you in tears, and you walk out of his apartment and don’t look back.

“What the fuck is this, Jungkook? Obviously, she is my replacement.”

“Y/N, you know I’m sorry and it was so stupid of me. We haven’t seen each other in ages and I don’t know..I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I need to think about this for awhile. Don’t call me. I’m leaving. Let me think.”

Jin:

He called you a different name while you were in bed. You stopped kissing him and pulled back, staring into his eyes with an unreadable expression on your face that quickly turned to anger.

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“Y/N, no, look I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. I just, I’ve just been having dreams about my ex-girlfriend lately and I don’t know why.

“Do I remind you of her or something? You couldn’t have blurted her name any other time?”

“No, no you don’t look anything like her. I’m sorry, Y/N. Can you forgive me?”

J-Hope:

You caught him texting a girl he swore he had nothing going on with. But the text messages you saw suggested otherwise, because you grabbed his phone from his hands and scrolled, seeing hearts and dirty text messages. The two of you screamed until your voices were hoarse, and before he could continue you left, slamming the door behind you.

“Am I not good enough for you? Who are you anymore?”

“I’m sorry! She got flirty and I don’t know what I was doing, Y/N I have no excuse!”

“No, your excuse is thinking you can do whatever you want now that you have more than enough fans to keep yourself entertained.”

Taehyung:

You always hated clubbing, but Taehyung seemed to enjoy it. So when you walked into your house the next day to find a random girl sleeping in your’s and Taehyung’s bed, you calmly locked eyes with Taehyung, say what you needed to say, then walked out.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you. But I’m done.”

“Y/N I-”

Namjoon:

You had noticed something suspicious was going on lately. This girl would keep appearing in places and you’d find Namjoon, your boyfriend, close behind. One day, you opened the door to the studio and found Namjoon and the girl making out against the soundboard. 

“Y/N! Wait, I can explain! She came onto me, we were just writing some lyrics to a new song and it happened. I’m sorry.”

“We can talk about this another time, I need to calm down before I wake up the entire building because you deserve to be screamed at.”

Suga:

It was the day you were going to tell him that you were pregnant. He just looked at you standing on his porch, then stepped towards the side to reveal the half-dressed girl behind him. You ignore his pleading words and walk back to your car and drive away without looking back.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I was going to tell you. I..it’s a mistake. I made a mistake and I wish I could take it back. Please understand..”

Jimin:

You found a skirt that didn’t belong to you stuffed behind the dresser in your’s and Jimin’s bedroom. Wasting no time at all, you called him over facetime and showed him the skirt. His eyes went wide and he began stuttering, but you hung up and ignored his constant calls and texts.

“Look, Y/N, it was a long time ago! It was before we even started dating! She was only a fling and she left her skirt there-”

Just Because, My Darling

My Darling,

Let me take care of you
Even though you take care of everyone
Just because I want to

Let me hold your your hand
Even though mine us as sweaty af
Just because I miss the feeling of your skin

Let me be there for you
Even though you’re strong on your own
Just because I am strong too

Let me kiss your lips
Even though we just stopped doing that
Just because I feel like it

Let me protect you
Even though you can protect yourself
Just because I would feel better knowing you’re safe

Let me listen to your voice for hours
Even though you want me to talk as well
Just because I like the sounds and inflections

Let me lay my head on your chest
Even though we’re just about the same size
Just because I love the rhythm of your heart beat

Let me look at your face
Even though I may look odd doing so
Just because I’m trying to memorize it

Let me be yours forever
Even though forever isn’t nearly long enough
Just because I love you so much

Xoxo, Me

(And I’m back! With a rough, chaotic, first draft poem for my Darling, but i wanted it out fast, lol. Thanks for having such an open, free, and honest love blog 😊 it rocks)

knees knocking, blood flowing, so i want you to know (that i want to)

i have been lurking on your blog since you made it, and you’ve just lightened up my days so much and gotten me back into writing (after a horrendously long drought). so, i wanted you to read this. because you’ve been such a huge inspiration. i hope it’s not too broody!

It starts: with him, face down on the bed, at two in the morning. Even’s breathing close by. The radiator is snapping. Those are the only sounds in the apartment, apart from the ever distant rumbles of traffic further out. It’s just enough sound to let it happen; to let the thought be heard and take root, weave its way between his neurons until it’s not going anywhere, no matter how he tries.

It’s not too foreign. It happens a lot – this spiraling thing he has going on. Thoughts wearing a groove in his mind until he ends up tongue-tied and frozen dead in his tracks. Usually it’s unpleasant; something he wishes he could get rid of. Not necessarily the thought, but the process of getting stuck. It’s one of those characteristics, (– along with the jealousy, selfishness, insecurity, abundant cowardice –) that he really doesn’t like about himself too much.

But this. This is different. Really, it’s just a thought.  It doesn’t feel so bad to think it.  He’s just surprised at himself. A bit proud, even, for going there. Acknowledging it.

At first, anyway.

It’s another thing when it starts to crystallize, becoming real – not just a liquid deliberation, but a solid want. And the more he lets it ( – starts analyzing how when why now? – ) the more something tightens up inside, like a knot tying up his throat and something cold settling in the depth of his stomach.

He swallows, turning onto his back and staring into the ceiling of his room; someone else’s floor.

Nothing is awkward anymore.

Well, that’s a lie. Nothing outward is awkward. But words in the mind are different from the words said. Even when the whole world has been tipped on its head ( – as it tends to when your boyfriend have a brain that’s a little faster and sadder than mosts and you find out in the worst possible way; leaving you scared out of your mind and gasping frigid air – ) you still think in the same ways, stuck in the same grooves, just with your head a bit higher; eyes focused ahead rather than down.

A bit more objective, perhaps.

Still. Shame that has had time to take root just doesn’t go away overnight. It lingers in the smallest ways, even when he tries to fight them off. Lingers in the way he still turns his head when Even wants to kiss him in the street; in the way he still has to convince himself that it’s okay to smile and enjoy dorky things, in how he still sometimes has a prepared excuse on the tip of his tongue to let go of, in how he can never really relax when they’re not around friends –

He was getting better. Is. But here’s the thing: at two am, without someone to remind him that it’s okay, that’s it’s alright to feel, the good and the bad ( – that it goes up and down, is a process, and that he too should take it minute by minute, you’ve got to be kind to yourself, Isak – ) old patterns tend to repeat themselves, simply in new constellations (– feeling shame about feeling shame in the first place; a layering process, a spiraling thing, the same emotion to the second fucking power –)

Isak bites his lip, releasing it when he tastes blood. His face is so hot he can hear the rush of blood in his ears: turning his head into an echochamber until it’s all clamouring so loud he can barely breathe.

Turning onto his side again, he sees the vulnerable skin on Even’s neck. Smiles. An old part of him tell him he shouldn’t want to, how could anyone, but god, he does. He really does.

Closing his eyes to shut out the noise, he listens to Even’s slow breaths, halfway muffled by the blue pillow, turning into gentle snores. Isak presses his nose into the back of the (his, because even if you can’t own people, Even is his – ) shirt, and pulls his sleeping body closer. Even doesn’t wake; he just lets out a long exhale, and Isak can hear his heartbeat through his back, smell his warmth, feel how solid he is; safe for now.

He goes back to sleep.


Fact: Isak’s always been curious.

Ever since they got sat beside each other because of their surnames, Jonas has been the speculative of them. He’s known things – or claimed that he did – by simply putting two and two together; figuring them out the hermeneutic way. He’s smart in that old school philosophical way that lends itself to making self-reflection and self-improvement an instinctual thing.

Isak, on the other hand, always wants to know more, and how. When he doesn’t know, he seeks out an answer. From sources – books or newspapers or the internet. Scours through page after page until he can puzzle together a picture from facts.

However, that’s regarding worldly things. Things others can tell him about; tell him if it’s right or wrong, even if those concerns started out as private thoughts only for him to mull over. They’re things he can research, and then apply to the real world. Sure, he has done it with private things too ( – sad, embarrassing midnight searches, sleepless Saturdays spent reading and so much before it searching for clue to prove it wasn’t true – ) and about all and anything.

Lately, though, he can’t. This is, while a curiosity and ignorance he wishes to solve, also something else. He can read about it, sure, but ultimately, no text, no explanation nor story –  

No words can explain how something feels unless you’ve already felt it.

Even’s staying over for the third day in a row now; sitting crossed-legged on the floor by the foot of the bed as he types away at one assignment or another. Tapping his pen against his text book, Isak gives up reading the same paragraph about bimolecular nucleophilic substitution reactions for the fifth time. Even’s got his headphones in, the light from the bedside lamp highlighting those lighter streaks in his hair. He cut it recently, and it’s still coming back into its own; the shorn edges still coarse when Isak drags his fingers through it.

With his always working senses, all six of them, Even must realize that Isak’s watching him. He turns, tipping his head backwards, sly smile at the corner of his mouth.

“Taking an undeserved break?”

Isak kicks him, lightly. “No,” he says, but he’s smiling so Even just laughs and grabs his ankle before letting go.

“Go back to reading then, or I’ll go home.”

“Why?”

“Because I promised not to kiss you until you were done with that chapter. And I’m not staying the night if I can’t kiss you. That would be impossible.”

“Fine,” Isak grumbles, but takes up his book again and stretches his leg out .

Even takes him up ( – so attentive it’s ridiculous and he makes it seem so easy why is it so hard – ) on the unspoken invitation and slouches down a bit to lean his head against Isak’s shin; a familiar, safe weight.

It takes a while to get into the rhythm of the text, he does manage to finish the chapter, even though he’ll probably have to re-read it to get it all. But not tonight. He puts his book down . Even’s once again engrossed in his writing, the rhythm of keys soothing, so Isak rolls over in the bed and puts his chin on folded arms.

“Have you ever broken a bone?”

Even frowns for a moment, then he sighs. “Yeah. Wrists and collar bone. My toe when I fell out the window that time.”

It’s not awkward now that he knows the best reaction is no reaction when Even decides to share something from his episodes. It’s all Isak needs, really. Some sort of guideline, and then he’s good to figure it out on his own.

“You’ve never done that?”

Isak frowns. “No?”

“Not even skating? Lucky.”

Even smiles with his whole face and wow, Isak loves him so much. So glad to have him. All of him. Looking down at the duvet, he asks, “What does it feel like?”

Tipping his head back, Even holds the thought for a bit. Then he says, “Like losing the love of your life.”

He says it completely serious, because he’s utterly ridiculous and Isak can’t do anything but roll his eyes. It’s fond though and Even just laughs so Isak swats at him. He dodges easily, clearly even more amused as he grabs Isak’s wrist to keep him from swatting again.

Naturally, things go south from there pretty quickly, and they end up side by side, panting from the impromptu wrestling match ( – which it was, through and through, just playing, being close and physical but not intimate in that way and it’s so long since he’s had that, but with Even he can and it’s the best feeling in the world – ) staring into the ceiling, Isak’s hand resting on Even’s ribcage.

It moves gently with his breathing, loud in this small room.

“I’m serious, though,” Isak says softly. “How does it feel?”

Even is quiet for a long while, and by know he must know that this is really about something else. But, he’s so patient, and says, “It’s searing. Almost as when you poke a bad bruise too hard, mixed with that sharpness of a paper cut. But it lasts forever?”

“Forever?”

Even cracks an eyes open, and then nuzzles close ( – smelling so good, it’s incredible how someone can smell so good, so warm and safe and human –) so that their noses touch.

“It feels like forever. Until it heals.”


It continues: March is dreary, cold and misty. Isak pulls down the makeshift curtain ( – a blanket, let’s call it what it is – ) to let some light in. To make it easier to wake up in the morning; make it easier to get out of a warm bed into a draughty room, knowing that Even can just turn over and go back to sleep since he’s got study hall first period on Fridays.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, a finger hooks into the back of his shorts; the elastic snapping back lower than earlier when he spins around. Even looks at him from under the duvet, eyes thin slits, his lips forming unintelligible words until they stretch into one of his smiles.

“Morning, handsome.”

Isak just gives him a look. “Don’t be smug.”

Even’s smile brightens, and he reaches out again; a long arm and a warm, big hand curling around Isak’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. A bad one, tasting of morning breath and placed half on his chin, but isn’t that a testament of everything when it’s still good?


Fact: lying on top of the covers, just kissing is the best thing in the world.

It’s finally good. It wasn’t always. With Even though, it’s so good. Feels safe and right in a way it never did before (– he’s just right; right height, right shape, right smell, right everything – ). Also: the way he doesn’t assume, but stays in tune, senses working, always, to make sure to check what Isak wants, not acknowledging but neither forgetting how much two years can be in terms of experience; how some things can still be scary, no matter how close you get.

He’s considerate, Even. Dictionary definition.

Still. Isak knows this and yet, he can’t bring himself to ask. He’s thought about for weeks now ( – a thought, call it what it is; want, desire even, what the fuck to even call it when he can’t bring himself to articulate it in his mind – ) and the doubt festers; pulsating at his temples when Even’s hand takes hold under his shirt, fingers dipping and out of the hem of his jeans, making him shiver.

This is so good.

And yet.

Even rolls onto his back; letting Isak hover over him as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. And it is. It should be. Isak’s seen him more vulnerable than this (– seen him all but flayed open at this point – ) and yet, it’s still remarkable how easy he makes it look. It makes the contrast between them even more stark. Isak wishes he too could relax like that; settle into himself instead of being a haze around the edges, not knowing where he starts or ends or where his contours even are. He’s gotten better at it: knows where they are when he’s with the boys, mostly when he’s alone, but always when Even’s arms are around him, caging him in, forming him into something he wants to be – what he is.

When he’s alone, it fluxuates. He’s more relaxed now, sure, but it’s still a process.

( – you’ve got to be kind to yourself, Isak, demand things, you’re not a burden I promise – )

Something pulls within; esophagus and stomach in two opposite directions and a lattice laces behind his eyes.

He pulls away.

Even doesn’t follow. Instead, he pushes Isak’s fringe out of his eyes, smiling up at him slightly as he searches for something. “Would you rather do something else?” he asks, a joke hanging in the air when he doesn’t find it.

It nearly makes Isak stiffen; damage control ready to engage, the false explanation ready at the tip of his tongue. Even’s hands are still down the back of his jeans, but there’s a small frown forming between his eyebrows. He knows that Even knows something is up with him, (– but he trusts him enough to let him spill on his own terms and isn’t that just heartbreaking when all Isak wants is for him to just ask so he can spill – )

He knows he’s diverting; Even knows it too. Yet, he doesn’t push.

He’s patient. Dictionary definition.

Isak doesn’t even wish he could be; he just wants to be able to speak his mind, always. Screw this process thing: he’s ready to be done.

Even’s eyes stays on his; silently asking, and Isak can’t, not really, but he makes himself.

“I want to know how it feels.”

It’s soft, cowardly, and cryptic. But blood is rushing in his ears, and his pulse is ticking at his wrists.

At first, Even’s eyes widen. It’s a small thing, and for a second, Isak fears that Even still thinks this is about bones ( – wouldn’t that be just perfect though, something to laugh at, you’ve got to lighten up – ), but then he reaches up again, cradling Isak’s face in his hands.

“You sure?”

Isak closes his eyes, and nods. “Yeah.”

“Now?”

Isak doesn’t answer, words lodged in his throat. Instead, he leans down to kiss Even again, softly and containing the full one word he should say out loud, but can’t. Instead, he lets Even take his upper lip between his own, and it’s such a simple thing, but it sends something warm through him, from head to toe. Not frantic, but just a simple that’s pleasant that has him press his tongue against Even’s just to be close to him.


It resolves: him, face down on the bed. Even’s big hand is steady on his shoulder, minding the pimples that hurt when touched. The other is curled around his hip.

“This is all about you,” he whispers, lips brushing against Isak’s neck, breath warm and soothing behind his ear, over his throat.

He nods, cheek rasping against the pillow case. “I know,” is all he can say, barely audible. If Even asks one more time, he won’t be able to speak; his throat tight with nerves even though he should be – is –  relaxed, should show and not just say how he does want this so badly. Wants to be so close to Even it can’t be undone, despite it being scary.

He can feel Even’s breath on his neck, making the hairs on his arms stand up when he starts mouthing at his neck; the skin behind his ears, the topmost know of his spine ( – the same place where he left his first hickey on Even, the exact same spot – ).

“A little bit about me too, but that’s just because we’re two about this. Like I can’t fuck you if I’m not here, you know. ”

Isaks’ face heats up. It burns. Still, he manages to laugh a bit, and to turn his head to look at Even. His eyes are soft, a bit worried, perhaps, but he’s smiling now too. He’s making soothing circles on Isak’s lower back, and god, Isak loves him so much.

He swallows, curling his fingers ( – the tension concentrating in those joints, the rest of his body languid, it’s okay, you’ve got the right to be nervous, everyone’s nervous, it’s seriously okay – )

“Mm.”


It resolves: with him, holding on. It’s the only way to describe it. Even’s fingers in between his, and Isak knows he’s squeezing them too hard, tightening his sweaty hold with every shift, but he needs it ( – needs it so bad because he’s on the verge of unspooling, it feels so good, but he should be scared out of his mind from the intensity of it and maybe he is, but something it overshadowing it – )

It doesn’t hurt, like he’d feared. It’s just. Too much.

His breathing is loud even to his own ears, and he’s mouthing at the back of Even’s hand; tasting his skin just to keep himself grounded here, in this moment. It’s barely been a minute, if that, but he knows he could come now. At the same time, it’d be impossible – that feeling being just out of his reach ( – hooked around his lower spine, somewhere, where he knows it’s exact location and could find it, but he doesn’t want to, he wants it to last, because he’s getting what he wanted and asked for and got – )

A hand around his clammy forehead. Even. Of course. Turning his head a bit, just enough to kiss him properly. It forces him deeper inside, and Isak loses his breath to a gasp, because oh that’s good. Fuck it’s good. Finally it’s so so good. Not just enduring, not that it ever was about that. But it’s finally good; because not only his mind but his whole being knows it’s Even. It’s his hand on his, it’s his shorn ends brushing again Isak’s cheek, his mouth kissing him and him inside, so close it would hurt –

If it wasn’t Even.


It ends: with them. Isak catching his breath against Even’s collar bone ( – the broken one apparently, but it’s been set properly – ) and Even drawing light patterns on his back with the tips of his fingers.

“You okay?”

Isak holds him a little tighter, breathes him in. He is okay, he thinks. Simply, a lot to mull over, once again, but in a different light ( how this is certainly only temporary, them that is, in the grand scheme of things, and how it’s both a blessing and a curse, but how now, Even will always be a first because Isak asked for it and got it because he asked – ) and how, in a way, he’ll always be Isak’s, one way or another.

It’s a soothing thought. Or just the endorphins speaking, he doesn’t know.

He nods. “More than.”

Even places a kiss on top of his head, and Isak feels like sleeping. It’s safe enough here ( – doesn’t get safer to be totally honest – ) that he can let it happen. He closes his eyes, listens to Even’s breathing, to the calm stead rhythm of his heart and –

It ends: the spiral up-rooted.

anonymous asked:

Could you do prompt 38 and 42 with Daryl... if that's okay?

Yeah, that’s fine! :)

#38-  “Okay, judging by the look on your face, you either want to kill me or have sex with me.”

#42- “You’re drunk, I’m drunk, lets make it happen.”


GUYS THIS IS THE FIRST SMUT ON MY BLOG SO ENJOY!

*DISCLAIMER- I DO NOT WRITE MY OWN SMUT. I HAVE TWO SMUT WRITERS.*

Smut credit- @jijsku


That was another one. Another of your team gone. It was a simple run, you didn’t see where it all started to go wrong, it was a perfectly simple plan! He was only seventeen… he was just a kid. His name was Robbie and he was a good kid. Stupid and naive, sure. But good nonetheless. Now it was time for you to go back to Alexandria to tell his mom and his sister that he got caught in a heard of walkers because he tried to be brave. You always hated that part. It didn’t happen very often, because you’d admit that you were a very good leader. But when it did, you always had to put your feelings aside and be totally deadpan about it. You couldn’t cry. You would never let yourself cry.

After leaving Robbie’s mother and sister to grieve, you headed home and opened one of the many beers that Abraham had given you a while back. You sat at your table and drank in silence. Your mind raced over the events of a few hours previous. How Robbie grabbed your hand and begged you to help him. How you knew you couldn’t, but you stayed anyway. You knew you should’ve just shot him and put him out of his misery, but you couldn’t do that, not to a kid.

When you’d made your way through another beer, you heard a knock at your front door. You let out an exasperated sigh and set down your beer as you headed over to see who it was at your doorstep. When you peeked through the draped on your door, you saw Daryl’s tall, muscular figure standing in the evening heat. You unlocked and opened the door and met his sympathetic gaze..

“Hey,” he said. “How you feelin’?”

“Oh, I’m great. Always feel fantastic whenever I lose someone.” You sighed sadly.

“Listen, it weren’t your fault.”

“Tell that to Robbie’s family, Daryl. See what they have to say. I’m sure they’d disagree.” You argued, thinking about the look on Robbie’s mother’s face when she found out.

“They probably would. But that don’t change anything. And if it makes you feel any better, I still think you’re one of the best people we got.” Daryl says softly, warming your heart a little. You notice that he glanced behind you and sees the beer bottles on your table and he suddenly had an idea.

“Look, I’ll be back soon, alright? I’ll stay with you for the night. I’m sleepin’ on your couch and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.” He smiled and walked away.

You were taken aback by Daryl being so forward. You’d never known him to be so confident with his words and gestures. He was always the stereotypical ‘strong, silent type’ that only spoke up when something was ridiculously important. You simply shrugged and wandered back to your beers.

Moments later, the door opened again and Daryl strolled into your kitchen with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other.

“If you’re gonna do this, you’re gonna do it right.” He told you as he set the bottles down in front of you.

“You’re getting me drunk?” You chuckled with a slight scoff.

“Pretty much.” He shrugs and sits down opposite you.

You gaze at him with uncertainty, confused as to why he’s suddenly so outgoing, but a little bit attracted by his new-found confidence.

Okay, judging by the look on your face, you either want to kill me or have sex with me,” he jokes, snapping you out of your inappropriate train of thought. “Is this a bad idea?” He asked.

“I mean, you haven’t met drunk me, so I’m just worried for you.” You laughed, only half joking, knowing full well that you have no filter between your brain and your mouth when you’re intoxicated.

“See, now I’m just excited.”

And with those words, you both took swigs from each bottle.

By the end of the night, you had claimed the bottle of tequila as your own, leaving Daryl with the bottle of whiskey, which he had no problem with. The two of you had inched closer to one another as the hours ticked by, and now there was no more space left to eliminate.

You were giggling like a schoolgirl at Daryl’s comment about Rick  being completely whipped by Michonne when you noticed something- Daryl was smiling.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.” You slurred.

“Don’t get used to it.” He mumbled, drinking the last drop of Jack.

“Can’t really get used to anything these days.” You replied with a sad sigh.

“What do you miss? Y’know, from before.” Daryl asked.

You let out a brief laugh and threw your head back in amusement.

“Sex.” You answered honestly, immediately regretting it afterwards.

“Really? You haven’t gotten laid since-”

“Since what? The whole world went to shit? Pretty much.” You snickered.

After a few moments, you noticed him gazing at you as you took another shot.

“What? What’s that look for?” You giggled.

“I can uh… help you out, y’know.” Daryl proposed, surprising you into silence.

“I uh… wh-”

“What? You’re drunk, I’m drunk… lets make it happen.”

And with that, you hungrily crashed your lips into his, earning an animalistic growl from Daryl.

“This is a bad idea.” You groaned.

“The worst.” Daryl breathed, taking off your jacket.

“We shouldn’t do this.” You moaned as you bit at his bottom lip.

“Definitely not.” Daryl grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap.

“Sex isn’t the answer.” You slid his vest down his toned arms.

“Never is.” He sloppily unbuttoned your shirt.

“We’re about to make a big mistake.” You hurriedly unbuckled his belt.

“Damn straight.”

After unbuckling his belt you subconsciously licked your lips and Daryl smirked. He slipped your jeans off and ran his hands up your thighs, stopping just before your core. You looked him in the eyes and kissed him hungrily, the taste of alcohol mixing, whiskey and tequila, you and Daryl. It was pure passion, even if in a drunken state. You slipped your hand down his stomach and to his boxers, palming him through the fabric making him grunt. He wrapped your legs around his waist as he stood up and walked over to your lounge, and then pinned you onto the sofa and his hair fell around his face, making you giggle.

“You look like a girl!” You giggled but gasped as you felt pressure on your clit.

“I’m not the girl here Darlin’.” He drawled and rubbed your clit harder before stopping and taking his fingers back up. You weren’t sure if you would remember this in the morning but neither of you cared at the moment. You just wanted to fuck each others brains out. Daryl stood up and took his boxers off, slipping a condom on his rock hard member. You felt yourself getting wetter by just seeing his member, ready to be embraced by you. You stripped your panties and he came to you, not even warning you, just slamming inside you, making you scream out loud. He let you adjust and started grinding his hips carefully, making him grunt and you moan in pleasure. The sounds filling the house, the air growing hot and the alcohol pumping through your veins giving adrenaline.

“Faster… Daryl, oh my God!” You yelled and bucked your hips up to meet his and he did what you said and went maybe a little too fast. He started ramming into you and put a thumb on your clit, feeling your walls tighten around him.

“Jesus Christ, how has nobody fucked you this whole time? You’re so damn tight!” He hissed through gritted teeth and rammed one more time, making both of you explode, orgasming the hardest you ever had, even before the apocalypse. Daryl laid down next to you and you both fell asleep soon due to both of you being ridiculously exhausted.

You woke up to the sun shining into your eyes, sending shooting pains into your head, causing you to wince in pain, and you were about to get up when you felt a figure pressing against your back. Your head was throbbing really badly and you felt nauseous all over. As you put two and two together, you reminisced about the previous night. You and Daryl… oh shit. Oh… God! Why did you let yourself get so drunk!?

shit, he’s never going to look at me the same again!’ You thought.

You turned over and gently nudged Daryl in an attempt to wake him up. He grumbled as he opened his eyes, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. It only took a few seconds before the pain washed over him and he too remembered the events of the night before.

“Ugh, I feel like shit,” Daryl complained, burying his head into your pillows. “Sorry about last night.”

“Why? I had fun.” You smiled sheepishly, causing Daryl to look up at you.

“You did?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Me too.” Daryl smirked a little and took hold of your hand.

“You’re not in any kind of rush to leave, are you?” You asked, your voice dripping with hope.

Daryl pressed a sudden kiss to your lips that answered your question for him. You were slightly taken aback at first, but it didn’t take you long to welcome it.

“I’ll take that as a no.” You giggled and the two of you spent the rest of the day in bed, holding each other and desperately attempting to get rid of the pain of your hangovers.