i thought i could sleep over it

Believe me. I loved you. I did. Why else would I wait for hours just to fit myself in your schedule? Why else would I adjust my sleeping patterns so that I could catch you awake? You were busy. You were pursuing your dreams and that you were good at what you were doing. I understood that. You strived to find time for me, and I appreciated that. But I needed more. I couldn’t stand days of not seeing you because unlike you, I didn’t have anything to keep me occupied. Over time I realized that I needed you more than you needed me, and that I was miserable. I needed to get out
Everyone else was discrediting what I felt because I left you. They said I didn’t love you. They were angry at me for breaking your heart.
I’m sorry. I know I hurt you. I’m sorry for wanting the things you couldn’t give. I know it was selfish.
But I loved you. Nothing will ever change that. It was real. It didn’t work out, but it was real.
—  waferqueen
And All This Devotion (1/1)

Happy Valentine’s Day, @once-upon-a-captain-swan!

Hi, dollface! I’m your CSSV and had so much fun writing this for you. I’ve enjoyed our little chats over the last few weeks and I hope you enjoy the story. I tried to put as many little touches of you in it as I could. 




The knock came at 2:05. It was tentative, barely pulling Killian out of a dreamless sleep and for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. Fuzzy-brained, he was a second away from chalking it up to a rattling pipe or noise from the street when another knock came, this one more insistent. 

Tossing the covers off and cursing as he kicked his feet free from the tangled sheet, he padded through the living room, throwing the deadbolt and dramatically pulling the door open, ready to give his untimely visitor hell while wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer briefs and a scowl.

The piss and vinegar was short-lived when his eyes fell onto the figure standing in the hallway. 

Her face was red and blotchy with strands of blonde hair sticking to tear tracks. A cheap diaper bag, stretched to the limits and overflowing, was slung over her shoulder, one of those infant car seats designed for carrying at her feet, the baby inside asleep. 

Chin lifting just enough to convey some measure of pride, her eyes wouldn’t rise enough meet his. When she spoke it was to the dog tags resting on his chest.

“We didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Could you please do a scenario about a mc who sleepwalks and the rfa's reactions?

Catching up on the reqs we got from the US election aftermath, so sorry this took so long!!!!!

I’ve never actually sleepwalked (I do other more embarrassing things in my sleep >____>) so I hope this is to your liking!!



  • it’s 2:58 in the morning
  • he’s dead asleep
  • or so he thought?
  • what is that rustling????
  • “________…. are you awake…?”
  • we’ve all been blessed hearing his raspy I-just-woke-up voice
  • reaches over to your side of the bed
  • but you’re not there?????
  • sits up and rubs his eyes when suddenly
  • jumps out of his skin
  • internal shrieking
  • grabs the baseball bat stashed under your bed just in case
  • bangs his shoulder into the door frame
  • “________?”
  • flicks on the light and sees you bumping into the wall before turning down the hallway, past the knocked over table lamp and skewed side table, muttering about a treasure map
  • manages to coax you back to bed, insisting the treasure (sleep) is in your bedroom (please) (you’re super cute sleepwalking but he’s so tired)
  • keeps it a secret that he knows for a really long time actually
  • you find out he knows via finding videos of you sleepwalking on his phone
  • RIP yoosung


  • Rehearsals ran late
  • god damn fuckin newbie can’t get their shit together what was the director thinking
  • he is ready to pass tf out
  • barely manages to make it through the door he’s so tired
  • super surprised to see you pacing back and forth in the living room
  • he’s about to ask you what you’re doing up so late (it’s 3 IN THE MORNING _______ GET UR TUSH BACK IN  BED)
  • but you suddenly dash off for the kitchen, running right into the wall
  • “pardom me ma’am” you mumble at the wall, petting it gently
  • dies
  • just fucking dies of laughter
  • can’t keep his phone steady so the video he takes of you wandering around bumping into things in the dimly lit apartment looks like a shaky cryptid video
  • wants to go wake you up but you’re just too funny you keep apologizing to the walls
  • you curtsied at the toaster ffs
  • finally, sides throbbing in pain, breathy chuckles escaping, he approaches you and places a hand on your shoulder
  • you jump and swing your arm around, feebly papping him in the chest
  • “C’mon babe, let’s get you back to bed” *picks you up and carries you to bed like the royalty you are*
  • “…..yeah okay. …..my nose really hurts.”
  • “I know, don’t worry about it and let your lovely Zen take care of you~” *tender nose kiss*


  • She was up late finishing up some paperwork (for what? who knows?? cafe? Jumin?? letters of recommendation for Yoosung??? you decide!)
  • parked at the dining table, nose deep in paper and ink, half empty mug off coffee long gone cold
  • she hears clattering and looks up, neck crackling from keeping it in the same position for ages
  • you’re standing by the sink, sponge in one hand, paper towel roll in the other
  • “_____?”
  • “tell me your secrets” you whisper at the sponge “or the puppy gets it” you hold the paper towel roll out threateningly
  • jaehee stifles a giggle as you squeeze the sponge and leftover soap bubbles around your fingers
  • “I knew I could make you talk” you grin, dropping the sponge in the sink and shuffling away towards the living room
  • Jaehee gets up and follows you, smiling when she sees you passed out on the couch cuddling the paper towels
  • considers moving you to bed but decides to just leave you on the couch
  • brings your phone and plugs it in and covers you with a blanket
  • goes back to work tO BED


  • he had just gotten to sleep when your moving about woke him back up
  • he rolled over to drape an arm around you but you weren’t there?
  • he felt your weight leave the bed
  • grumble grumble grumble
  • doesn’t even sit up, just kinda lays there watching you out of the corner of his eye
  • you just wander back and forth for a while before flopping back on the bed
  • wraps you in his arms to keep you from getting up again
  • kisses you gently until you fall back asleep
  • in the morning though……..’
  • “_______, I’ve scheduled an appointment for you later at a clinic.”
  • “what for?”
  • “Your sleepwalking.”
  • you slowly shrivel up inside as he rambles on about why he thinks you should see someone about it


  • he’s up late working (surprise surprise)
  • he goes to the kitchen to grab another soda
  • jumps out of his skin when he runs into you standing in the hallway
  • “_______? What’re you doing?”
  • _______.exe is not responding
  • you’re just kinda standing there??
  • staring off into space?????
  • what do your elf eyes see, ______?
  • waves his hand in front of your face
  • scoots around in front of you
  • does a funny dance
  • no reaction (????????????)
  • outrage
  • you start shuffling forward and bump into him
  • “….s’cuse me Your Honor…” you mumble
  • also records your antics
  • uploads them to the internet
  • piggy-backs you to bed
  • regrets uploading his videos of you sleepwalking the next morning when he wakes up to a facefull of pillow
How to Write Children

The other day I started writing something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.  The first chapter starts with the characters at age 7 and, for the sake of accuracy, I pulled out my notebook from the Child Development course I took over the summer.  I know that not everyone has access to a course like that or even notes from one, so I thought I could share some tips I picked up on writing children.

Age: Infancy (birth to ~2)

Infants don’t really do much besides eat and sleep.  The only way they know how to communicate is through crying; however, they do start making noises that sound like talking as they get older, which can be noted as cooing or babbling.  First words are usually short, brief words that are nouns or actions.  Language develops quickly at 50 words by 8-18 months, and 300 by 18-22 months.

Fresh babies can only see about 7-9 inches away from their face and without much peripheral vision.  Basically, things need to be right in front of them.  Infants respond to sound much easier, though, responding more to the mother’s voice, and sounds and rhythms of speech rather than nonsensical noises.  Babies are sensitive to smell, taste, and pain, being able to determine good and pleasant from the bad.

They spend about 2/3 of their time sleeping (16 hours a day).

Around 2-3 months, the infant starts being able to hold up their head, and around 3-4 months they can start grabbing things voluntarily.  

Age: Early Childhood (2-6)

At this stage, children are developing their gross motor skills, which is the large muscles.  They are learning to balance, throw, catch, push, pull, etc.  At this point, males and females are generally equal in terms of development and abilities.  Children can begin to develop fine motor skills at this stage, but not unless they have mastered gross motor skills.

Children at this stage usually develop patterns of erratic and unpredictable eating habits.  They can develop strong or strange preferences, and often are influenced by parental food preferences.

These ages need about 10-11 hours of sleep in a 24 hour period which is usually accomplished with 9-10 hours at night and a 1-2 hour nap during the day.

Children at this stage begin “symbolic” or pretend play.  They have one-dimensional thinking, and see themselves as the center of all situations, and this is completely normal development.  These children do not understand the laws of causality.  An example of this is that highways make cars go fast, or when I wake up the sun comes out (rather than people make highways fast or the sun will always come out whether you wake up or not).

Preschoolers learn an average of 9 words per day.  They also apply the concept of overregulation, which is applying grammar to words that are an exception to the rule (a child learn that you put -s on plurals and makes the word “mouses”).

Preschoolers start to identify and respond differently to their friends than other children.  They identify friends not by qualities, but rather the toys and activities they share.

Age: Middle Childhood (7-12)

This is the stage when children usually begin losing teeth.  They start going in for regular vision, hearing, and dental checks.  This is also the stage when hormonal differences begin to occur, not until puberty however.  Children begin to develop “executive functions” of thinking, such as goal setting, information processing, and self-regulation.

During middle childhood, children are increasing their speed, strength, agility, and balance.  They are developing hand-eye coordination, faster reaction time, and flexibility.  Their fine motor skills have increased to tie shoes, fasten buttons, zip zippers, etc.

Children at this stage begin to understand the law of conservation, which is the idea that properties of an object remain the same when superficial characteristics are rearranged or changed.  They can also begin to uses class inclusion, or understand that one category or class can include subcategories (**Note: This is Piaget’s theory and has since been proven that the development in this paragraph happens earlier than he accounted).

Children begin to develop a moral conscious that is usually dependent on the world around them.  Basically, children learn that they must conform to an authority or set of rules, and misbehavior results in automatic retribution.  Children at this age may also begin to lie as a way out of retribution, but do not fully grasp the concept of deception (develops around 9-10), so lies will be short, one-word answers rather than elaborate tales.

By age 6, children will have learned 7000-13000 words.  By ages 7-9, they will understand that words have different meanings and enjoy jokes.  

Children will start to develop self esteem around this age, and is usually higher in children with close relationships with their parents, and social acceptance by their peers.  Peers become powerful during middle childhood, and there becomes a lot of pressure to conform due to acceptance or rejection.

Age: Adolescence (13-17)

Puberty may have already happened before this age, but it usually marks the beginning of adolescence.  In males, early maturation is not usually seen any one way or another; however, late maturation in males can make them feel dominated an insecure.  This is reversed in females.  Early maturation can make them feel awkward and conspicuous.

Teenagers are at the peak of physical health, strength, and mental capacity (in general terms), yet this is a very hazardous age.  Rates of death by injury between ages 15-19 are about 6 times greater than the rate between ages 10-14 because of an egocentric feeling of invincibility.

Teenagers bodies have sexually matured, but they have limited executive functions and tend to be impulsive.  They may end up reacting to peer pressure.  Sexually-active adolescents have a higher risk for Sexually Transmitted Infections (estimated 2.5 million teenagers).

Many teenagers experience sleep deprivation (<6 hours), which can lead to poor performance.  Adolescents experience what is called phase delay.  This concept is the teenagers body shifting its sleeping schedule, making them fall asleep later and waking up later.  It is natural for teenagers to have difficulty falling asleep before 11pm.

At this stage, teenagers have a great capacity for abstract thinking and use of symbols.  They are categorized by hypothetical thinking (what might be rather than what is), Utopian thinking (the future’s possibilities), and symbolic thinking (how a symbol can represent something greater).

Teenagers still experience a sense of egocentrism.  Adolescents are overly concerned about what others think of them, and feel under scrutiny or on stage (”imaginary audience”).  They also believe that their own thoughts and beliefs are special and unique, which can lead to them feeling alone and isolated.

The differences between genders (I’m sorry I don’t have any notes on trans youth we didn’t cover that) is now much more obvious due to cultural experiences.  Girls tend to be better in verbal skills such as reading, and expressive language, whereas boys tend to be better at visual-spatial abilities because of sports.  In a study of 7 million teenagers, they found no difference between boys and girls in mathematics.

*** Please note that this is a very simplified and edited version of my notes.  There are entire sections of the science behind development, and also disorders and diseases.  If you want a deeper explanation on anything, or posts about the two subjects I skipped over, please feel free to ask! ***

(Don’t) Touch Me Like That: A Rowaelin Short Story

So here’s the first winner of the survey many of you guys took. ***Warning: Does contain mature content*** in case you weren’t aware. I spent 3 MOTHER FRICKING DAYS ON THIS. I gave up sleep, put aside my homework, everything. So I hope you all like it!

Please like and reblog, and feel free to tell me what you thought! I really did spend a lot of time on this so it means more than you could imagine having people appreciate it and tell me how much they enjoyed it. Alright, this post is long enough as it is, ENJOY!


Aelin again read over the letter she had received just yesterday. She had read it so many times that she had now memorized the words. And yet, it felt as if she still couldn’t comprehend them.

“Aelin?” Aedion asked quietly.

She didn’t turn to him as she said, “Rowan and I will set out for Fenharrow tonight. I want you and Lysandra to stay here and watch over the apartment. We don’t want Lorcan to pay an unexpected visit.” It was silent for a few moments, and Aelin could feel Aedion’s annoyance at not being chosen to accompany her rolling off him in waves, but even he was wise enough to not push Aelin at this time.

As much as she didn’t want to, she knew choosing Rowan to go with her was the wiser choice. She would much rather pick Aedion.

When the Queen of Terrasen finally turned to her cousin, he read all that and more in her eyes.

Aedion nodded, eyes somber as he murmured, “As you will it.”


Aelin stuffed an extra cloak, a few pairs of pants, shirts, boots, and sweaters to keep out the winter chill into her pack before clasping it. She didn’t need to pack too much as she and Rowan shouldn’t be gone long and she certainly did not want the extra weight on her as they traveled.

Just as she was finishing strapping on her knives, blades, and other deadly weapons, she felt Rowan’s presence behind her. But she didn’t pause, instead choosing to grab a few more daggers and sheath them at her thighs.

“Are you ready to go?” His voice was cold, stilted.

Finally turning to him, Aelin couldn’t look him in the eyes as she said, “Let’s go.”


They had been travelling for three days, and Aelin had still not spoken a word to him. She hadn’t really looked at him, spoken to him, or acknowledged his existence ever since—Ever since that day. When he had pushed her away.

“Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan shook his head as if to rid his mind of all the thoughts racing about in there. He hadn’t been able to stop replaying those moments before he had rejected her. How her eyes had seemed to glow with want, the warmth of her hand as she had caressed his tattoo…

And then the moments after. Hurt had flashed, unabashed and unexpected, on her face. He had hurt her. And then she had covered it up, made it seem like it was nothing but…He knew she was angry. He knew he had emotionally wounded her.

He knew all this…And yet he had yet to apologize for it.

“We’ll set camp here for the night.” Her voice cut through his thoughts. Rowan looked up, coming to the sudden realization that the sky was dark and now showcased thousands of stars winking down at them.

Rowan watched as Aelin hopped off her horse in one graceful, fluid motion before tying up the snow white mare as close to the peaceful river as she could. She stroked the horse as it drank deeply, and only left once she was certain the gentle beast was well taken care of.

The two of them silently set up their tents, and Aelin started a fire with no more than half a thought before she spoke to him again while she was rummaging through her pack. “I’m going to go freshen up in the river.”

And then she was gone again.

Rowan stared after her, only averting his gaze once he realized he could still see her as she began stripping off her clothes. He had not torn his gaze away fast enough to miss the maddening sight of the curve of her breasts as she had rid herself of her shirt.

His blood thrummed in his veins, forcing himself to close his eyes and take a few steadying breaths.

Gods, if he didn’t do something productive now, he’d end up joining her in that river.

And then lose his balls by her hand by doing so.

So the Fae Prince decided he’d go hunting so that they’d be able to eat something other than days old cheese and molding apples.

With his sheath strapped to his back and knives on every visible and invisible inch on him, Rowan set out.


Insufferable bastard.

Rutting pain in my ass.

Aelin mentally swore at Rowan, cursing his very name to the pits.

It’s been days—days—since they last spoke to each other. And Rowan was so rutting proud, he wouldn’t even acknowledge her.

Granted, she was also paying as much attention to him as she would a spot of dirt on the street, but she couldn’t bring herself to so much as look at him while the aching in her chest was a constant companion.

No matter how many times she told herself that if he wasn’t interested in her like that, that it was his prerogative, she couldn’t help that feeling of rejection. Besides, Aelin thought as she rinsed her hair for the third time, how can I expect him to move on after losing his mate for gods’ sake? Aelin sighed. Of course she couldn’t expect him to move on so soon—if ever—from Lyria’s death. And it was selfish of her to do so.

A wave of guilt came crashing over her.

She’d apologize to him tonight. Make sure he knew that she understood, that she felt awful for blaming him for her misguided feelings. It was just that, for the first time since Sam, Aelin thought she had finally found someone who accepted her, who saw all her flaws and the monster she was, and cared for her despite it.

Perhaps Rowan did care for her, just not in the way she wished he did.

Aelin finished bathing and heaved herself out of the river.


Once Aelin had finished dressing, she came to the camp to find that Rowan was ladling stew into a few bowls. She sniffed the air, swearing she could smell—Was that fresh bread?

She stopped at the edge of the camp, leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed over her chest. “Well,” she said, being sure to sound mildly amused, “Who would have thought Rowan Whitethorn, famous Fae Prince Warrior, Death on Swift Wings, was also a chef?”

For a moment, Aelin was afraid he wasn’t going to respond to her. She was afraid that he was going to completely ignore her. And she knew that if he did that, if he were to truly not want anything to do with her anymore, then she’d endure it and put on a brave face, but—

But Rowan merely chuckled once and said, “Well are you good for anything other than running that mouth of yours?”

If things were like they used to be, she might have made some slightly inappropriate retort, but they were just now beginning to test the waters, and she did not want to screw up redeeming herself, so she only smiled slightly and came to sit across from him.

He passed her a bowl of the mouth-watering stew, still steaming, along with a piece of the fresh bread he had somehow gotten his hands on, and the two ate in comfortable silence for a while.

Finally, when her emotions were eating her up inside and she could no longer repress the words, she blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

Rowan stopped mid-bite. “For what?” He still wouldn’t look her in her eyes.

Aelin swallowed, but forced herself to continue. “For pushing your boundaries,” she said. “For crossing a line I didn’t mean to. And then blaming you for it. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to—” she swallowed again. “I’m sorry.”

Rowan didn’t respond. He didn’t turn towards her, he didn’t speak, rutting hells—Aelin wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Rowan turned towards her. Aelin was embarrassed at the way her pulse thrummed when he finally, finally, met her gaze. She was sure he could hear the pounding of her heart, the shallowness of her breathing.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he breathed. “I should have…handled it better. It just took me off guard.”

She didn’t know when it had started, but Aelin suddenly realized that tears were pooling in her eyes. Rowan, too, seemed to notice, and at the sight of them, he only opened his arms, beckoning her, and murmured, “Come here.”

She dropped her empty bowl with shaking hands before making her way over to him. Aelin had planned on sitting beside him, but Rowan scooped her up in his arms and set her down on his lap. So close, she could distinctly smell the pine and snow scent that was him.

Aelin rested her head on his shoulder, and Rowan pulled her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed again. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.”

A few heartbeats passed, and Rowan’s only response was, “I missed you, Fireheart.”

She refused to allow him to see how much those words affected her, so she laughed and retorted, “You mean you miss all of our comedic and playful banter?”

“Banter? Is that what you call it? I’d say arguing was a better fit.”

“And I’d say that me always being right and you being wrong whilst refusing to acknowledge it is an even better fit.”

And so they sat that way for a good remainder of the night, until Rowan complained that his legs were beginning to fall asleep due to Aelin’s heaviness—she had smacked him, playfully of course—and they had bid each other good night before retreating to their tents.

Aelin slept better that night than she had nights previous, but her tent still seemed to be too cold without her Fae Prince at her side


Two more days of riding, and though things were still a bit tense between the two of them, Aelin and Rowan were talking to each other again. It was at the end of the second day that they had stumbled upon a small village. The village was welcoming and inviting, with red brick buildings and local shops, friendly people.

And most importantly, an inn.

“We can lodge here for the night,” Aelin said. She didn’t mind travelling, but she was tired of sleeping on the hard ground and bathing in creeks and rivers and eating nothing but cheese, apples, bread, and whatever game she and Rowan had hunted.The thought of sleeping in a bed was so appealing, she had to restrain herself from making her horse go faster just to reach the inn.

The inn was cozy and warm, with a tavern off to the right and teeming with people. Boisterous laughter and the scent of pumpkin and cinnamon greeted them upon arriving, and Rowan and Aelin quickly scanned the space before Rowan said, “I’m going to go check things out. You see about getting us a room to stay in for the night.” Before Aelin could protest, he was off.

Aelin strutted to the innkeeper’s desk, ringing the little bell there and feeling eyes on her coming from every which way. Her hand strayed to a knife hidden beneath her cloak, but she made sure that the silver gleamed menacingly and in plain view. If anyone dared to be a bit bold and try to steal from her, they were going to find themselves missing a few fingers—Or perhaps a whole rutting hand.

The innkeeper, a small, plump woman with dark hair and light eyes bustled out, wiping her hands on her skirt before cheerfully greeting Aelin.

“I’d like a room for the night please,” Aelin said. “And, with two beds,” she added as an afterthought. As much as she and Rowan were beginning to mend their relationship, she guessed he’d prefer to have a bed of his own.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” the innkeeper breathed, and Aelin steeled herself for the words she was sure to say next. “All of our two bed rooms are full. But, there is one room available. Mind you, it does only have one bed, but—”

Seeing that the woman was getting quite flustered, and perhaps a bit frightened at the sight of Aelin’s hand on her knife, Aelin politely interrupted, “It’s fine. We’ll take whatever you can offer us.” The woman nodded.

Upon paying the kind innkeeper and receiving the key from her, Aelin walked back to the tavern in search of Rowan.

Good gods, there were so many people! Aelin had to push her way through, scouting for the Fae Prince. It took her all of five minutes before she found him in the more dimly lit part of the tavern, his back to her.

A pretty, curly-haired woman was pressed against the wall, big brown eyes just gobbling up the sight of the muscular warrior. Aelin could not hear what they were saying over the roaring in her ears, but she watched on in silent horror as Rowan lowered his lips to her ear, eyes straying to her considerable-sized breasts. The woman’s eyes seemed to darken with lust, and her hand went to his chest, feeling the hard, corded muscle underneath his tunic.

Rowan flashed her a lazy smile, one so few people were graced to see, and when the woman nodded upon him whispering something else in her ear, Aelin could take no more of it.

Just as she was preparing to leave the tavern, her gaze met with that of the beautiful woman. She nodded in Aelin’s direction, and Rowan looked over his shoulder, making direct eye contact with her.

Aelin wasn’t sure what would happen next, didn’t know if Rowan would simply dismiss her or go after her, but she didn’t care to stick around and find out.

Faster than a bat out of hell, she rushed out of the tavern, up the stairs, and found the room they were to be staying in for the remainder of the night.

The room was small, but cozy. There was a small wardrobe tucked into the farthest right corner, a door that led to the bathing chambers, a small fireplace, and a table. A considerable sized bed with fresh linen took up much of the space, if you sat on it and looked out, you could view the beautiful violet snow-capped mountains that seemed to go on for an eternity.

Ten minutes passed, and Aelin could do nothing but stare out that window. That is, until the door opened, and pine and snow overtook the room. The air was instantly stale, and the mixture of awkwardness and anger was a tangible thing.

“There’s only one bed,” he said.

Aelin scoffed and faced him. He looked for all the world like he had done absolutely nothing wrong and had no idea why she was behaving like a lunatic. “I told them we needed two beds, you insufferable bastard. This is the only room they had available.” Swiftly, she began ridding herself of her weapons, her freezing cloak. “If you’ve got a problem with it, you’re welcome to sleep on the floor. Or even better, you can change into your hawk form and find a nice nest for lodging.”

Rowan was still stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he said, “That actually doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.”

Aelin shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Then by all means, go do it. Apparently, I’m such an detestable pain in your ass that you’d rather go warm some other harlot’s bed than share one with me for a night.”

And there it was.

Almost immediately, Aelin regretted the words, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

Rowan’s brows furrowed and he took a step closer. “Aelin—” She held up a hand, ceasing whatever words were about to come out of his mouth.

“It’s none of my business, Rowan, whom you decide to have relations with, I know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Rowan was silent as she finished stripping off her weapons, setting them on the small, wooden bedside table before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.


Rowan was an idiot.

A ginormous, gods-damned rutting idiot.

He should have known, should have thought about how the sight of him flirting with another woman, no matter what the initiative, would have affected Aelin. Especially, especially considering what he’d told her just weeks before.

“Rowan,” she had breathed and slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek and—

Impossibly fast, Rowan grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away.

“Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

He had known, as soon as he had said the words, that he had hurt her in some foolish, unspeakable way.

And now…He could only imagine how it looked. That he would rather some random woman’s hands run all over him, rather share her bed, than be with Aelin for just one night.

The line between them had become so blurred once he had come to join her in Adarlan. It  was completely different between them in Wendlyn. They had fought and cried and laughed together. She had slept in his bed every night after she had nearly burnt herself out. And Rowan had not realized just how lonely he was until he would wake up in the middle of the night, hands searching for a girl who was not there. A girl who was half way across the continent, and had taken pieces of him with her.


As Aelin bathed, she could not stop replaying all that she had seen just moments previous. The way Rowan leaned into that woman, how he seemed to want—crave—her touch. The way his eyes had freely roamed over her body, how her eyes had seemed to darken in response.

“Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Aelin came to the sudden, crippling realization that perhaps—Perhaps those words were not a general statement. Maybe they had been intended for her only. Was it not possible that just because Rowan did not want her hands roaming over his body, he would not mind the hands of another on him? That he did not feel for her in that way?

She finished bathing, wrapping herself in a towel before exiting the bathroom to find that there was food on the bed. Still warm, though not scorching hot so it had to have been sitting there for a little bit. Rowan, however, was absent. Fine, she thought, but Aelin could not deny that little twinge of hurt and disgust that was taking place in her heart.

She sat, still wrapped in her towel and began eating the meal without tasting it at all. She was so wrapped in her thoughts that everything around her seemed like a type of dream. Blurred and hazy around the edges with only one thing astoundingly clear.

It was moments later that Rowan came back, hands full with two cups filled with something that smelled distinctly like chocolate and a small tray that had to hold something sweet, as she could smell the cinnamon and pumpkin she had scented upon first arriving at the inn.

He set the goodies on the bed. “I went back down to get some hot chocolate and pumpkin spice tarts. The cook says they’re the best in all of Erilea.”

If this was his attempt at an apology, he was doing a shit job at it.

But she could never resist sweets, especially chocolate, so Aelin took a cup and a tart and began enjoying them without so much as a thank you. Rowan sat down on the bed, keeping a healthy distance before he delved into his meal. She took a sip of the hot chocolate—Gods, it was heavenly. And the tart was even better.

Somewhere in the middle of enjoying her third tart and second cup of hot chocolate, Rowan retreated to the bathing chambers. He was gone for no more than ten minutes, and Aelin had just slipped on a long-sleeved red button-down shirt when he emerged, dressed in nothing but a pair of paints slung low on his hips and his hair dripping wet, but tied back in a bun atop his head.

Aelin climbed into bed, forcing her eyes away from his half-naked form, and blew out the bedside candle with a murmured, “Goodnight, Rowan.”

She could tell that he was just standing there in the middle of the bedroom, staring down at her. But it was moments before his deep voice disturbed the silence of the room as he said, “I was gathering information from her.” He needn’t specify who. “She was a common city whore from the brothel down the street, Aelin. Nothing more.”

Lies. There was absolutely nothing ‘common’ about that woman. From her full, sinful lips and deep brown skin, to the full swell of her breasts and petite build.

“It’s none of my business, Rowan. It doesn’t matter.”

“But it does,” he said. “It does matter, because it obviously upset you. And I must say that I am sorry Aelin, for having hurt you. It was never my intention.”

It was silent for a few moments, the only sounds being the high-pitched whistling of the wind and snow swirling about outside, people preparing for bed, candles being blown out, before the entire inn seemed to grow completely silent.

“Good night, Rowan,” she said again. A few heartbeats passed before Aelin felt the bed dip on the opposite side, Rowan coming to join her.

Gods damn her, she couldn’t seem to even consider sleep when he was right there, when he was so close and yet so far away. So Aelin lay with her back to him, staring at the wall while hoping and praying for sleep to come and take her away.


“Please tell me what you’re thinking.” Aelin knew it had to be well past ten, but it did not surprise her when Rowan’s voice disturbed the stillness in the room.

“Only if you return the favor.” He seemed to hesitate, but eventually agreed. “But you first,” she added quickly. Rowan groaned, and Aelin couldn’t help a small smile as he grumbled, “Fine.”

She heard him take a deep breath, as if preparing himself for a fight, noticed that he subtly cleared his throat before speaking.

“I’m thinking that Lysandra and Aedion are probably showing great strength in restraining themselves from tearing each other’s throats out. I’m thinking that the small innkeeper should back away from the door and go mind her own business.” At this, Aelin indeed heard a quiet gasp and then shuffling as someone hurried down the stairs. Her smile grew. “I’m thinking that not talking to you for that amount of time was starting to drive me mad, and I missed you like hell. I’m thinking that I’m one of the biggest fools that ever lived from having hurt you. And I would sooner cut off my own arm than make that mistake again.”

Aelin wasn’t sure she was breathing. Of all the things she had expected him to say, that certainly wasn’t it. So she turned around to face him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity…And found none.

She had so many things she longed to tell him. Things and feelings she had kept on a tight leash. A leash, Aelin realized, that had been loosening ever since she had seen him in that alley.

So she, too, took a deep breath, knowing that once she said the words she had been wanting to say for so long now, there’d be no undoing it. “I’m thinking that you’re an idiot, Rowan Whitethorn,” she replied. “And I’m an even bigger idiot for having fallen in love with you.” His eyes seemed to darken in the sliver of moonlight coming through the window. Aelin breathed, “Now you have to tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking,” his voice had taken on a dangerous quality. So low and guttural as he said, “That I want to kiss you, Aelin Galathynius. I want to touch you, I want to find out how your lips would feel on mine. How your hands would feel in my hair, roaming over my body, touching me.” His gaze went to her lips. He growled. “I want to take you on this bed. I’m thinking that I want to fuck you over that table, and on the walls, and in the tub. Over and over again until that sneaky little innkeeper is forced to kick us out due to noise complaints. Because I can guarantee, Fireheart, that you’ll be moaning—screaming my name at the top of your lungs. And you won’t be able to help it.”

Rutting hell’s.

Rutting hell’s. 

Aelin did not know when she and Rowan had inched closer, as if by some invisible force, but she realized that he was now close enough that she could reach out and touch him if she wished. Realized that their breaths mingled.

His words had her nearly gasping for breath, sent her heart galloping, her pulse roaring through her veins and pooling at her core. She could scent his want, his lust-filled eyes finally meeting hers again.

“Are you all talk, Rowan? Or can your actions actually back up your words?” He grinned, canines gleaming wickedly.

“Turn around,” he quietly instructed. She obeyed, wondering just what in all the gods’ names he could possibly do that—

Her thoughts cut off abruptly as his lips met her neck. His breath fanned over where her shoulder and neck met, kissing where her pulse thrummed. Aelin’s body stiffened.

His hands soon joined his lips, one grazing her bare thigh, the other slowly unbuttoning her shirt. Aelin’s eyes screwed shut. Just a whisper of his thumb caressing the inside of her thighs had her grinding against him, silently begging for more.

In one swift movement, he had her on her back. Rowan hovered over her, their bodies so close that his warmth seeped into her. His lips kissed, followed by a brief, sharp pain that was his canines biting her, claiming her, before his tongue—gods damn her his tongue—caressing the spot he had just bit her.

And he continued this slow, pleasuring torture all the way down her throat, until his mouth hovered over her breasts, peaked despite the lack of chill in the room. 

And then he took her right breast into his mouth, licking and biting as his hand massaged her other breast. Aelin moaned, grasping the sheets as waves of pleasure tore through her.

His name was a breathy whisper on her lips. Just when she thought she would find release, he stopped, instead continuing his torturous assault of leaving a trail like purple-pink flowers blooming upon her pale skin.

Rowan eased himself off the bed, kneeling before it, before her. His hands wrapped around Aelin’s ankles, pulling her towards him. Evidence of where he touched were left on the sensitive skin inside her thighs. He was going to drive her to the brink of insanity with those gods damned teeth of his. Aelin didn’t think he could pleasure her any more than what he already was.

But then his mouth hovered over what was between her thighs, and she felt his breath on her. And she could have sworn he moaned before his fingers began to pleasure her.


Feeling her wetness for him, scenting her wanton desires nearly undid him. Her golden hair sprawled out on the pillows, her hands grasping the sheets, eyes fluttering and chest heaving as he pleasured her. The way she tended to bite down on her lower lip to contain the moans she so desperately wanted to release. She was so beautiful. 

Aelin was aware of the fact, and yet still held insecurities. Rowan had noticed how her eyes had flashed with hurt and despair at the sight of him flirting with that other woman. He had noticed how her eyes roamed over the whore’s body, immediately comparing it to her own and wondering if he perhaps preferred those type of women.

He planned on eliminating every once of self-doubt she had.

Aelin’s hips bucked off the bed, craving more of his touch but he used his other hand to pin her to the bed. “None of that,” he crooned.

“You little—” Her sentence was cut off as she gasped at one of Rowan’s fingers entering her. “Shit,” she breathed as he slowly began to pump his finger inside her, his mouth caressing her thighs. He added a finger, feeling her clench around him as he began to move faster, faster. Her chest was heaving, and his name sounded like that of a gods when she finally found her release, her hips wanting to buck off the bed but being stayed by his hand. 

She was barely able to come down from the last waves of pleasure before his tongue darted out, tasting her. He had imagined how she would taste, but his imagination paled in comparison to the real thing. 

One of her hands went to his hair, holding him to her as she writhed and moaned. His hands and mouth took turns, tasting her, pleasuring her. 

“Aelin,” he breathed against her. And at that, she lost it once more. Her back arched off the bed, toes curling as she was taken again.

Her eyes opened, meeting his as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked her pleasure off them. Aelin’s body shuddered, riding out the last waves.

But when Rowan rose, making as if to join her on the bed, she held up a finger, stopping him as she raised herself to her knees. 


Of all the things that had come out of Rowan’s mouth, wit matched with a sharp tongue, she had never imagined that he could have her nearly begging for release with nothing more than his teeth, hands, and tongue.

She held up a finger, stopping him. And he did so with a mixture of amusement and lust shining in his eyes. Her hands reached toward his naked chest, keeping his gaze every step of the way so that he knew, so that he could stop her at any moment should he wish.

“Get on with it, Fireheart.”

That was all the encouragement she needed before was on him. Pleasuring him as he did her. Her lips and breath on his neck, peppering kisses along his torso and leaving her mark on him. 

Rowan’s eyes had fluttered closed, nostrils flaring as she moved farther south, until her mouth was right above the waistband of his pants. She popped the button free—

So fast she hadn’t anticipated it, Rowan’s hands lashed out; One gripped both her hands, ceasing her advance, and the other lightly gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

For a moment she was afraid that she had gone too far. That kissing and marking his skin was fine, but him exposing himself in that way was off -limits. 

But then he lowered his lips to hers, and it was the answer to a thousand-year old riddle. It was the beginning and end of the universe and her body heated. It was hot—too hot—

An icy breeze swept through the room, blowing out the fireplace and kissing her heated cheeks. A hand slipped around her waist, and Rowan set her on the bed with a gentleness that made her heart stutter.

Aelin wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him down towards her, causing him to be flush against her body. She could feel the hard length of him through his pants and suddenly wanted him insider her now.

Again her hands went to the waistband of his pants, and this time, when she slowly began to peel them off him, he only growled that she go faster and stop teasing him. 

His pants joined her shirt on the floor, and Aelin’s mouth went dry at the sight of him–Fully naked before her. He was beautiful; every bit the Fae warrior underneath his clothes as she had imagined he’d be.

Their eyes met, Rowan lowering his head so that their brows met. He smelled of pine and snow and sweat, but her scent was there as well. Crackling embers and lavender wrapped around each other like the notes to a sweet melody.

Rowan nudged at her entrance, and Aelin bit her lip to stop the moan that had been about to pass from her lips.

“Get on with it, you bastard.” Rowan only chuckled, a sound she felt reverberate in her core before he entered her. Her nails raked down his bag, raising angry red lines as he pushed in, and in. And in.

He stilled, allowing her to adjust to his considerable length. 

Aelin closed her eyes, focusing on his breath coming out in hot, short spurts on her neck, his scent, the hard muscles of his back, his hands on her thighs, on how he seemed to fill every inch of her.

She breathed his name, and that was all it took before he slid out, then pushed back in. Slowly, at first. He worshiped her body, kissing her deeply as he moved inside her.

But Aelin didn’t want slow. 


Her hips lifted to meet his and he stilled, snarling softly in her ear. “Aelin,” he said, almost as a reprimand. When he didn’t move, she lifted her hips again. “Open your eyes,” he softly encouraged. She complied, and when he pulled out before slamming into her, her mouth formed a perfect O, a strangled gasp leaving from her lips as he slammed into her again. And again. And again.

His mouth met hers, swallowing her sounds of pleasure as he lifted her in his arms, their bodies still connected. Her back hit the wall, her arms snaking around his neck, his gripping her thighs as fucked her, hard and fast against the wall as he’d promised.

“Rowan,” she said his name between moans and sighs.

“You’re mine,” he growled against her throat. “You are mine, Aelin Galathynius. And I’m yours. To whatever end.”

He pounded into her, so rough that the few pictures decorating the walls fell of, so viciously she swore the window threatened to shatter.

She could feel her release coming for her again, but she needed to say it. Wanted to say it. “I’m yours, Rowan Whitethorn,” she breathed. “And you are mine. To whatever end.”

“I love you,” he said, and those whispered words were her undoing. She shattered completely around him, screaming his name and not caring who heard. He continued to pound into her as torrents of pleasure tore through her, until he, too found his release and her name off his lips sounded like a man worshiping a goddess.

And when she could finally find her voice, she reciprocating the words she had held in her heart for all this time.


Rowan and Aelin got little sleep that night. 

He had fucked her, hard and rough against the wall again, bent her over the table and had his name leaving her lips the entire time. 

Then she had taken over, pleasuring him with her mouth, with her hands, with her teeth, and the sight of him coming undone at her doing was one she was sure would haunt her in her dreams for all time.

But then Rowan had lain her on the bed and made slow, sweet love to her. Hands roaming as he kissed her tenderly, the entire time telling her how he loved her.

But they had both grown so exhausted that finally, at nearly three in the morning, the two feel asleep, wrapped in each others arms. 


EXO Reaction || Their Girlfriend Screaming From The Bedroom And When They Come In They See She Climed Up The Door Frame Because She Saw A Spider And She Wants Them To Kill It
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“Park Chanyeol; what’s your emergency?”


“Look… It’s gone, you must have scared it away”
/ Where is that little monster before it eats us all alive… /


“Oh, honey… There’s no need to be scared”
*He gently takes the spider outside on a piece of paper*


“… Yeah, I’ll deal with it”


“Hmm, let’s see. We can go sleep at my mom’s tonight”


“You worried me so much, I thought you hurt yourself”


“You’re scared of it? Oh my God, this is hilarious”


“… Well, sleep tight, Y/N”


“You called me over here just for a spider. You know I would die for you, but this much you could deal with yourself”
*Takes it out anyways, being the gentleman he is~*


*Sprints away*


“I’ll save you from it!”


My Own Private Gym - Part 5

(Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

During the entire ride back to her place, Kara had been trying not to cry. She felt like she didn’t have the right to do that in Lena’s car, it was a weird thing to think, but she couldn’t explain her thought process even if she tried.

Fishing her cellphone out of her bag, Kara shot Alex a text message saying, ‘Please, wake up. I’m flying over, I need to talk something over with you.’

After being dropped off at her apartment building, Kara bolted up the stairs and changed into her Supergirl suit so she could fly over to Alex’s place. 

Getting into her sister’s apartment through an open window, she called softly, “Alex?” Her voice already starting to break.

“Hey,” Alex yawned, walking out of her bedroom still wearing her pajamas, rubbing the sleep off her eyes. “What’s u-” Before Alex could finish her question, she felt Kara pulling her into a tight hug. 

The moment Alex felt Kara start sobbing, she frowned, but instead of asking what was wrong, she just held her sister, rubbing small gentle circles on her back and whispering reassurances that everything would be okay.

A few minutes later, Kara had calmed down enough to talk. “Please don’t get angry at me…” she started, making Alex increasingly confused, “..I-I think I like Lena.” 

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Back Down

For the lovely @thing-you-do-with-that-thing who bullied me into writing a fic for this gif set.

John x reader

Words: about 4700

Warnings: age difference, smut, unprotected sex (stay safe irl), cursing, anger, slightly angsty.

Beta’d and encouraged by the lovely @for-the-love-of-dean who helped me smut when I thought I could smut no more. Love ya!

Tags: @deandoesthingstome @katnharper @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @mamapeterson @kittenofdoomage @manawhaat @deansdirtywhore @spnashley @killerofthesouth @aprofoundbondwithdean@supernaturally-potter @nichelle-my-belle @faith-in-dean @mamapeterson @crzcorgi @jensennjared @fandommaniacx @mrswhozeewhatsis

You groaned in frustration, cursing the snoring hunter passed out on the couch under your breath. It was like the sound bounced off the walls in the tiny motel room, cocooning you, forcing its way through the channels of your ears and pierced your very brain. Why couldn’t he fall asleep on his side for once. Looking over at where Sam and Dean were sleeping head to toe on the other twin bed, backs to each other, you had to wonder how they could sleep through it. But then again this had been their childhood, to them it was probably just white noise. Sure your dad would snore after a night of binge drinking when he came back from a hunt, but you could always sneak into the living room and turn the old man lying on the couch over on his side. You stared blankly up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to walk over there and shrug John awake. However, deep down you knew you would never dare. John was not the kind of man whose sleep you disturbed.

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Inaugural Gowns From Edith Roosevelt to Michelle Obama: A Fashion Analysis

I feel very scared, and very sad about the impending Trump presidency. I don’t know how to respond to it, or what I should be saying. This, and motherhood, are my only realities right now, and it is a very sad situation. Mostly sad for the state of this blog, which is becoming fucking boring and repetitive.

I thought a lot about a post I could write that would respond to tomorrow’s inauguration. In truth, I didn’t want to spend a lot of time on it because when the baby is not awake, I have an hour to myself before I have to go to sleep. I chose a blog post over a shower tonight, and I’m honestly not sure that’s the right decision. 

I was going to do a fashion analysis of Michelle Obama’s best looks, but Jesus, I’d need someone to pay me money to do that kind of image research. I was going to do a fashion analysis of Melania Trump next because there are far fewer pictures of her. Also, I don’t hold anything against her, she’s just a girl from Slovakia looking for a rich husband – which girl from Slovakia couldn’t say the same? I know she’s from Slovenia, what’s the difference. 

When I sat down tonight, and thought, what is the laziest possible option on the eve of an impending national nightmare, I thought, “Oh, I could do a fashion analysis of inaugural gowns.” So here they are, chronologically since Edith Roosevelt, the wife of Teddy. 

Theodore Roosevelt doesn’t look so fat here, but I think he got super fat later.

This was his second wife, she was hot.

Oh maybe it was Taft who was the fattie.

Helen Taft looks like she got attacked by birds in her inaugural gown. Either that or her husband sat on her.

Oh the latter, definitely the latter.

Woodrow Wilson’s inauguration looks like Trump’s current day cabinet picks plus the gigolo they hired to take care of Sonny Perdue at the afterparty.

The one in the military uniform, duh.

Yo, who knew Woodrow Wilson was a cradle robber? His wife Edith was very young when he married her. I can’t find a picture of her until Kennedy’s inauguration.


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bets on: that handprint was the final omen that made Ford hide the journal, because Bill made the handprint. Ford thought he could use the invisible ink to hide his writing from Bill, but Bill took over his body in his sleep-deprived state and made the handprint—not just to show Ford that the invisible ink didn’t trick him, but to show Ford that, without a doubt, there was no escaping Bill’s possession.

When I Was Jungkook // JK x Reader

Formerly known as Salt and Pepper

This was a little random. I had the idea to write about what would happen if Jungkook and Y/N switched lives and bodies, and had to go through the other person’s life, kinda like Freaky Friday. I thought it’d be funny haha, but this one is a lil random. I loved writing it though, so let me know if you want a part 2?

Genre: comedy, fluff, i can make this somewhat smutty in future if ya’ll want hehe
Jungkook x reader
Length: 9k words

YOU closed the lid of your laptop with a sigh, pushing it to the side and running your fingers through your hair. Leaning back in your chair and eyeing the clutter of your desk, you basked in the realisation that now you could finally go to sleep. You looked over at the clock next to your bed to find that it was 2:43am. You had only just finished everything now. And you still knew that soon enough you’d be assigned another twenty things.

Being a university student meant that you were given barely time to even breathe around all the work your professors set for you. What with your job added onto all of that, the amount of stress you dealt with on the daily was crazy. But you dealt with it regardless because you were passionate about what you were studying, and if this is what you had to do to reach the place you wanted to get to then so be it.

Your job was one thing you were less enthusiastic about, but that couldn’t be helped. Your tuition wasn’t going to pay itself.

Besides all the stress and work, you liked to think you were a cheerful and optimistic person. You were reasonably confident that at some point your life would stop being as damn repetitive as it was now. Work, lecture, study, sleep, repeat. You hated to admit that your life was dull, but it really was. There wasn’t much else to say about it, if you were honest.

Pulling yourself out of your desk chair hurt far too much. You’d been sitting still there for so long that your back absolutely killed now that you’d straightened out. Your bedroom door opened as you sat down on your bed, allowing your dog to wander lazily into the room. He immediately came to you and rose up to rest his paws on your thighs, trying to lovingly lick your face. You pushed his head away from you with a soft chuckle, mindful of the fact that the rest of your family would definitely be asleep by now. Cookie must have gotten bored of staying in your sleeping sister’s room again, which would be why he was now here trying to lick your cheek as you tried to keep his tongue off of your skin.

Eventually you fought him off and managed to lie down with your head resting on your pillow. Your poor rejected Cookie took the hint that you were going to sleep and curled up in a fluffy ball next to your body. You lay there for a minute petting his curly fur for a few minutes, just thinking. Right before your eyes fluttered closed, you wished for the fiftieth time that your life would change from dull and repetitive to somewhat eventful. At least you could dream of what it would be like.

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Masterpiece (Chanbaek)

Title: Masterpiece

Pairing: Chanbaek

Genre: Smut, fluff

Warnings: Morning sex, fantasies, self touch, kinky stuff

1.2k words

This is my first smut. I usually only write fluff and a little angst but i thought why the hell not? It’s 2017! Enjoy if you dare. :)

It was around 6:45 am when Baekhyun couldn’t sleep anymore. He rolled into his side, his eyes meeting the boy sleeping soundly next to him. His red hair a gorgeous mess over the white pillow, dark eyelashes lightly ghosting over his cheekbones.

If Chanyeol could be anymore perfect, Baekhyun wasn’t sure that could be possible. All he saw was perfection and he wanted to in case this memory in his mind forever.

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Sometimes on the bad nights
When I really feel like shit.
I’ll sleep in your sweatshirt

Because I know it’s the closest I’ll ever get to being in the comfort of your arms again.

—  Confession.


  • (also I’m not going to ignore bellamy blake’s arms in this scene like sweet jesus)

I call this  “stop listening to music and go to sleep” - a bumbleby bit of nonsense


“You know,” Yang’s voice broke through Blake’s concentration and she sighed before placing her thumb over the last word she’d read. “When I told Ruby and Weiss I wanted to stay behind and hang out with you, I thought we’d actually, you know, have a conversation.”

Blake gave Yang a derisive look. “You knew I was reading when you agreed to this, you’ve known me long enough to know that a good book is my top priority.”

Yang groaned as she threw herself down on Weiss’ bed. “Okay, this is true, but you’ve been reading that book for almost a week. Usually you go through books faster than the cafeteria food goes through—“

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” Blake cringed and saw Yang smirk out of the corner of her eye. “It’s a very big book.”

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“I’ll always be here for you.” // hoseok

Twelve ticks by and it’s taunting you with four digits in blaring red, the big one two and double zeros on the back engraved in your skull as your eyes close. Tossing and turning, you grow restless when one flashes, eating up the number two that used to be beside it. Groaning, you try to play with your phone, distracting you for a moment to clear your thoughts and when one multiplies with two, you’re frustrated as your phone greets the table and apparently the thud against the wood surface is enough to - “Y/N…?”

“O-Oh shit, Hobi,” It feels like cold water is being poured over your head, seeping into your cerebellum because could you have been more considerate? Your voice cracks as you reach over to him, pulling the blanket over his figure, “Go back to sleep, I’m sorry I was just-”

“What’s wrong?” He ignores you, his voice thick with sleep but he’s awake now, sitting up in the slightest but he goes back to laying down when he turns his body to face yours. The blanket slips from your waist and he pulls it up, eyes closed, but he opens one of them to look at you when you don’t answer. Once he registers the guilt that fills your eyes, he sighs and shakes his head, snaking an arm around your waist, wedging it between your body and the mattress to pull you closer as he murmurs, “Talk to me, Y/N. I’m listening…”

“N-Nothing,” You sputter out, though nervous (and not really at the same time), your hands automatically hold onto him starting from his shoulders and down round his hips. He makes a face despite his eyes being shut and you know it means are you really going to lie to me at two in the morning but then he opens his eyes and your tone is more sincere. “I mean it,”

“I just… I just couldn’t sleep, I guess. That’s all,” Your fingers inch up, so you can use a hand to run through his locks. “Now will you go back to sleep?”

He doesn’t take in your request, only questioning in return: “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

To humor him, and the way he’s nuzzling his face in your neck, you chuckle as you reply with: “When you come home looking like a sleep deprived zombie? Yeah, no,”

He laughs quietly, mumbling a soft such a considerate human being before pulling himself up, a newfound energy coursing through his veins and he turns to look at you with a squeeze he leaves on your hip, “Let’s go take a walk. Maybe that’ll help clear your mind,”

“…are you serious? It’s two in the morning-”

“So no one’ll dare say a thing because it’s two in the morning when everyone’s asleep - shall we go?”

“…when you put it that way, you put me in a position where I can’t say no.”

((”hey, hobi?”


“thank you,”

“silly,” he snickers, giving a gentle squeeze on your hand that’s in his pocket to keep warm, “i’ll always be here for you.”))

I woke out of a sound sleep sometime later with a half-scream.

“Ssh. ’Tis only me.” The large hand lifted from my mouth. With the candle out, the room was pitch-black. I groped blindly until my hand struck something solid. 

“You shouldn’t be out of bed!” I exclaimed, still groggy with sleep. My fingers slid over smooth cold flesh. “You’re freezing!” 

“Well, of course I am,” he said, somewhat crossly. “I havena got any clothes on, and it’s perishing in the corridor. Will ye let me in bed?” 

I wriggled as far over as I could in the narrow cot, and he slid in naked beside me, clutching me for warmth. His breathing was uneven, and I thought his trembling was from weakness as much as from cold.

“God, you’re warm.” He snuggled closer, sighing. “It feels good to hold ye, Sassenach.” 

I didn’t bother asking what he was doing there; that was becoming quite plain. Nor did I ask whether he was sure. I had my own doubts, but would not voice them for fear of making self-fulfilling prophecies. I rolled to face him, mindful of the injured hand. 

There was that sudden startling moment of joining, that quick gliding strangeness that at once becomes familiar. Jamie sighed deeply, with satisfaction and, perhaps, relief. We lay still for a moment, as though afraid to disturb our fragile link by moving. Jamie’s good hand caressed me slowly, feeling its way in the dark, fingers spread like a cat’s whiskers, sensitive to vibration. He moved against me, once, as though asking a question, and I answered him in the same language. 

We began a delicate game of slow movements, a balancing act between his desire and his weakness, between pain and the growing pleasure of the body. Somewhere in the dark, I thought to myself that I must tell Anselm that there was another way to make time stop, but then thought perhaps not, as it was not a way open to a priest. 

I held Jamie steady, with a light hand on his scarred back. He set our rhythm, but let me carry the force of our movement. We were both silent save our breathing, until the end. Feeling him tiring, I grasped him firmly and pulled him to me, rocking my hips to take him deeper, forcing him toward the climax. “Now,” I said softly, “come to me. Now!” He put his forehead hard against mine and yielded himself to me with a quivering sigh. 

The Victorians called it “the little death,” and with good reason. He lay so limp and heavy that I would have thought him dead, if not for the slow thump of his heart against my ribs. It seemed a long time before he stirred and mumbled something against my shoulder. 

“What did you say?” 

He turned his head so his mouth was just below my ear. I felt warm breath on my neck. “I said,” he answered softly, “my hand doesna hurt at all just now.” 

The good hand gently explored my face, smoothing away the wetness on my cheeks. 

“Were ye afraid for me?” he asked. 

“Yes,” I said. “I thought it was too soon.” 

He laughed softly in the dark. “It was; I almost killed myself. Aye, I was afraid too. But I woke with my hand painin’ me and couldna go back to sleep. I was tossing about, feeling lonely for ye. The more I thought about ye, the more I wanted ye, and I was halfway down the corridor before I thought to worry about what I was going to do when I got here. And once I thought …” He paused, stroking my cheek. “Well, I’m no verra good, Sassenach, but I’m maybe not a coward, after all.” 

I turned my head to meet his kiss. His stomach rumbled loudly. 

“Don’t laugh, you,” he grumbled. “It’s your fault, starving me. It’s a wonder I could manage at all, on nothing but beef broth and ale.” 

“All right,” I said, still laughing. “You win. You can have an egg for your breakfast tomorrow.” 

“Ha,” he said, in tones of deep satisfaction. “I knew ye’d feed me, if I offered ye a suitable inducement.” 

We fell asleep face to face, locked in each other’s arms.


queencaitlin135  asked:

Do you think Tom would like camping? What do you think he'd be like? Annoyingly amazing as always I bet


There was discussion of Scout Leader Tom here and here some time ago that involved camping.  I’m still going to write a one shot about that.  Don’t tell @beaglebitch ;)

I think he’d be adorably insufferable, especially now with all the Kong/TNM filming experience in the jungle and the desert and far flung locales.  If there is a lake or waterfall, he could re-enact certain scenes for you…

Originally posted by maryxglz

Originally posted by spindle-berry

He’d find any excuse to wear a head torch, we already know he loves the things.  His experience in High Rise would help with roasting dinner over the campfire.  I suggest that you not let him make your tea, however…he might be after your superior sleeping bag.  He’d sing Hank songs while everyone is having s’mores, because of course the guitar would be with him.  

Originally posted by damnyouhiddles

So.  I have lots more thoughts.

But I’ll stop there.  

Napoleon was capable of compartmentalizing his life, so that one set of concerns never spilled over into another – probably a necessary attribute for any statesman, but one he possessed to an extraordinary degree. ‘Different subjects and different affairs arranged in my head as in a cupboard,’ he once said. 'When I wish to interrupt one train of thought, I shut that drawer and open another. Do I wish to sleep? I simply close all the drawers and I am there – asleep.’ An aide-de-camp wrote of how much his staff 'admired the strength of his mind and the facility with which he could take off or fix the whole force of his attention on whatever he pleased.’ In the middle of this hurricane in his private life and the growing, gnawing realization that the woman he worshipped was at best lukewarm in her affections towards him, Napoleon was putting the finishing touches to a bold campaign plan that would lead to a string of seven more victories on top of the five already won, the capture  of Mantua, the expulsion of Austria from Italy after three centuries of Hapsburg rule.
—  Napoleon: A Life, by Andrew Roberts
The Arrangement: Chapter 7

Author’s Note: This one was fun to write!! I’m not sure if I’ll be updating over the weekend, but I will hopefully write the requests I have before they start piling up too much haha Also this gif is only like half applicable to the chapter but I thought it was cute so enjoy xx

Feedback is always appreciated :) 


Originally posted by hardyness

Kylo awoke to the sound of a voice in his head. He opened his eyes wearily, taking in his surroundings and remembering where he was. His back ached slightly from the night of sleeping on the floor, but that thought quickly escaped him when he heard the voice getting louder.

They might still be sleeping. He could hear the Queen think. I’ll just check up on them.

Kylo sensed your mother approaching the bedroom and groggily stood up. He rubbed his eyes before glancing over to you still sleeping on the bed. A faint trace of a smile ghosted his lips as he saw how dishevelled you looked. Your mouth was hanging half open and your hair spread in all different directions. But you looked peaceful. Kylo supposed it was because you were sleeping in your own bed once more.

He nudged you gently, but you remained still.


You groaned, lazily swatting your hand towards him, “Go away.”

“Wake up!” He pushed you slightly harder this time.

“Let me sleep,” you mumbled.

“Your mother is nearly at the door.”

Those words sent you bolting upright and you started to get out of the bed.

“No,” Kylo said, pushing you back down and getting into the bed himself.

“W-what are you doing?!”

“We’re married remember?”

You felt Kylo’s leg briefly brush your own and you scowled, “You’re freezing!”

He ignored you, easily putting his arm around your shoulder.

You sighed, you had almost forgotten how seriously he was taking the marriage pretence.

“Put your head on my shoulder,” he instructed.

“I don’t want to.”

He rolled his eyes as he pushed your head down on to his shoulder.

“That hurt!”

“You should’ve just listened to me then,” he hummed.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, are you awake?” You instantly recognised your Mother’s voice as she knocked swiftly.

Kylo straightened himself up slightly before extending his hand out slightly towards the door.

“Oh my,” your mother laughed in surprise as the door opened. She grinned as she looked up to the bed, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” you smiled.

You saw your mother glance down to the woollen blanket on the rug and she gave you both a suggestive smile, “I hope you two had a good night’s rest.”

“We did, thank you, Your Majesty,” Kylo responded before you could.

“Well I just wanted to see if you were both awake,” your mother clasped her hands together, “I’ll leave you to get ready.”

“We’ll be out soon, Your Majesty,” Kylo told her.

“Take your time,” she said happily before leaving.

You had almost forgotten that your head was still on Kylo’s shoulder when he cleared his throat, removing his arm from around you.

“Aren’t you going to get out?” You smirked, knowing that he too had become comfortable.

“Oh, right,” he mumbled, standing up.

You let out a yawn before nuzzling back under the blanket.

“Don’t get too comfortable, Princess,” Kylo said, “Hux and I have formal matters to discuss with the King, but we are still training this afternoon.”

You frowned, “Can’t I just have one day off? I thought this was a holiday.”

“We don’t have time for holidays,” Kylo snapped at you, “This was merely a…change of scenery.”

“Why did we come back to my home planet then?”

“Will you ever run out of questions for me?” Kylo asked as he put his helmet on.

“Maybe… but where’s the fun in that?” You grinned, using his own words against him.

“You seem very happy, Y/N,” your mother told you.

“Really?” You were walking arm in arm through the palace garden.

“Truly,” she smiled, “The Commander is clearly treating you well.”

“Hmm, clearly,” you muttered as you approached the courtyard.

Kylo was already there, showing your brother and the King his lightsaber.

Hux was there too, but unsurprisingly, his attention was on his datapad.

“Y/N, do you have one of these yet?” Your brother asked when he noticed you had arrived.

“Kylo doesn’t let me anywhere near his, so that’s a definite no,” you said, stepping onto the concrete.

“The Commander has kindly offered us to watch you train this afternoon.”

“What? Why?”

Hux snapped his head up to give you a glare, as if to warn you not to protest.

No one but Kylo had seen you train before. You didn’t know how to feel about having an audience.

Kylo retracted his lightsaber and handed you your training stick. You snatched it from him hastily.

“The Princess can have quite the temper when she wants to,” Kylo told your family. Though he had his helmet on, it was as if you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“We know,” your brother chuckled.

“Ready?” Kylo asked.

You nodded.

Do as I tell you.”

It was the first time you had heard Kylo’s voice in your head—at least the first time he had actually consented to it. You looked up at him as if to acknowledge what he had said.

You were pacing carefully in a circular motion, waiting for Kylo to make the first move.


You did so just before Kylo swung at you. Your family cheered at your success and you smiled to yourself.

Your move, Princess.”

You were thought carefully about where you would strike him.


Kylo’s voice was cut short as you swung for his shoulder, the weapon hitting his skin.


You furrowed your brows. Why was he making you look good in front of your family? Hux would have surely suggested it.


Shut up,” you responded this time, easily forcing him out of your mind. You wanted to earn this victory yourself.

You struck once more, the weapon only narrowly missing Kylo’s thigh. You could tell his demeanour towards you had changed.

As he started to move towards you, you panicked and extended your arm out towards him. In a flurry of movements, it was as if Kylo tripped on thin air and he plummeted to the ground.

Hux let out a laugh as your family clapped for you once more.

“Thank you, thank you,” you beamed, bowing dramatically for your audience. You didn’t realise how much you had needed their approval until now.

You turned to face Kylo, holding out your hand to help him up. He ignored it, and quickly rose to his feet.

You had two more sparring rounds after that, with Kylo being defeated both times by you. He watched as you improved the more your family cheered you on. He realised in that moment that he had made the right decision in bringing you here.

“Well then boys, if you don’t mind, my mother and I were having a lovely walk through the gardens before this,” you said pointedly. As the others began filtering out, Kylo stayed behind.

“Can I have a word in private?” He asked, with an uncharacteristic politeness. Your mother understood and she quickly exited the courtyard also.

You turned around to give him a puzzled look, “Is something wrong?”

“You did well.”

“That’s because you were helping me.”

He shook his head, “It was all you, Princess.”

“Well, I suppose it was mostly me,” you said bashfully.

“You needed this. Your family’s support, I mean.”

You nodded, “I think you’re right.”

“Y/N, I think that,” Kylo let out a sigh before continuing, “I think you should stay here.”

“W-Why… What—” you were struggling to find the right words. Where was this coming from?

“I can see that you’re happier here. It is your home after all.”

“The First Order is my home now.”

“Not like this,” he said, gesturing to the surroundings, “You still need your family.”

“I need you too,” you heard the words escape your mouth, “To train me, obviously,” you added hastily.

“I have taught you enough. You’re naturally skilled, you will learn to harness your power over time.”

“But the arrangement between us, the Supreme Leader will—”

“The Supreme Leader will find someone else to become my apprentice, and this marriage can be easily dissolved. You didn’t ask to be a part of this war.”

“No. I chose to be,” you whispered.

“But you are unhappy on Starkiller Base.”


“Don’t try to deny it, I’m not a fool.”

“Well I can’t stay here, Kylo. I won’t.”

Why not?” He was slightly agitated. He was still surprised at himself for even offering you to stay, but he couldn’t believe that you were refusing to.

“Because I am your apprentice and your wife before I am this planet’s princess. At least now, anyway.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to return with me and the General tomorrow.”

“Yes,” you stepped closer to him, “It does.”

Kylo couldn’t help but feel relieved at your words, albeit slightly confused.

“Your offer means more to me than you will ever know,” your voice was low now and tears had started to form in your eyes at the thought of what you were choosing to give up, “But I made a commitment to you, and you to me. I want you to continue with my training. On Starkiller Base.”

Kylo nodded, “As you wish, Princess.”

By the time you and your mother had returned from your work that evening, it was already quite late. She escorted you straight to your bedroom, both of you exhausted.

As you opened the door, you saw Kylo lying on the bed. You knew he wasn’t really asleep. He must have sensed you both from down the hallway.

“I’ll let you get to sleep,” your mother whispered.

You nodded, kissing her cheek as you went into the bathroom to change. You heard muffled voices from the other side and you heard that your mother and Kylo had started talking. If this trip had taught you anything, it was that Kylo Ren was a massive suck-up.

You managed to hear the end of the conversation in the bedroom as you re-entered it, “Promise me you’ll watch over my daughter, Commander.”

“You have my word, Your Majesty.”

Your mother looked up at you as you approached them. She waited expectantly and you realised she wasn’t going to leave until you got into the bed too. You lifted the blanket slightly and lied down hesitantly.

A smile plastered on her face, your mother quickly left the room. As soon as the door closed, you sat up.

“What are you doing?”

“You slept on the floor last night, I suppose it’s only fair if I do it tonight.”


“Kylo, we went over this already, I’m not going to stay behind—”

“No, Princess,” he let out a small chuckle as he pulled you back down to the bed, “I meant stay here, beside me.”

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