i wonder if he drew it himself

anonymous asked:

You drew all these cute tummies and I'm crying I love them all, imagine them trying to find designs on Keith and being like "...??? What??? You don't have any what do you mean??? I'm???" Lance or Pidge would probably draw a design on Keith's tum in his sleep tbh or I could see hunk doing it because he's wonderful and didn't want Keith to feel left out and gave him a cute design somewhere


he does smile softly to himself for a moment that morning

a few things i noticed from the vlive

  • all of the low murmered talking to each other picked up on the mic
  • the members looking at themselves in the mirror behind the camera
  • jungkook and tae laughing about writing spanking punishments
  • jin and jungkook arguing and jin yelling that he told his team they should’ve put begin on their board when the other team called it
  • when maknae line won and got the acrylic suga stands jimin deciding he was getting one, making jk and tae rock paper scissors for the other 
  • junkook spinning the board after winning
  • the constant beautiful sope
  • everyone but jimin got up to take the pictures and he sat there until someone called him over to the side
  • jimin saying he’s surprised how many pictures of namjoon there are on the phone they used to take the pictures
  • jm just giggling the whole time in general
  • hobi cleaning namjoon’s ear w the qtip
  • hobi saying he really wanted the acrylic suga stand prize
  • yoongi making up twister rules and jungkook continuously calling him out
  • namjoon: “jimin i wonder how bad you would be at this game [twister]”
  • Winner™ jk happy he collected all the photo cards first
  • yoongi flawlessly bullshitting that the rock paper scissors game was to decide who picks the punishment and not who gets the punishment after losing it
  • yoongi marking the punishment paper from his team so he could tell it and avoid it but accidentally drew it anyway
  • jin writing the kiss namjoon punishment, saying he didn’t think of having to get it himself, suggesting that only one person should take the punishment, asking namjoon if he wanted all of them to kiss him or just one, and doing The Most™ as with getting the punishment on the vlive before the wings album
  • exasperated namjoon asking if they could do the kiss later off screen then changing it to him getting a kiss instead of giving it
  • yoongi clapping off beat at the end bless
“Baby, I’m on the phone”.

Drabble game. Prompt #16 Im Jaebum: Smut

Requested by my babe @annjaee

He was finally coming home. It had been a long and lonely couple of weeks without him while he toured and you were so anxious to feel him hold you close.

You had spent all day making the apartment ready for his return. It was clean, there were candles lit all around, you even wore his favorite matching set of lingerie. You planned on a long night of passion starting as soon as he walked through the door, to make up for lost time.

You heard him fiddling with the keys before turning the knob and pushing the door open. Your heart pounded with pure excitement.

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redfivewritingby  asked:

If you're still taking prompts and haven't done this one yet: “It is not morning yet.” pairing hannigram <3

Sorry this took so long! It’s been a hectic week, but here it is!

The sky outside was still the dark blue of twilight when Will slipped out of bed. Or, rather, tried to. He had one foot out of the covers when Hannibal looped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. He nuzzled at the back of Will’s neck.

“Where are you going? It’s not yet morning,” he mumbled. His word were slurred, voice thick with sleep.

“I have to use the bathroom, so you’d better stop squeezing me like that,” Will said. He gently pried Hannibal’s arm off him. “Unless you have a watersports fetish you haven’t mentioned.”

Even in the dark, Will could see him roll his eyes. He smiled, kissed Hannibal’s forehead, and climbed out of bed.

The floor was cool beneath his feet. He felt his way along the way for the door knob.

Something about night flipped a switch in Hannibal that Will couldn’t quite comprehend. He woke at the slightest noise. He clung in a way that would drive even the sanest person to homicide.

It was a lucky thing he had years of experience of sleeping with multiple dogs, Will thought to himself as he washed his hands.

By the time he returned Hannibal was lying on his back, eyes open and covers next to him turned down, awaiting Will’s return. Will slid between the sheets and let Hannibal pull him into his arms.

“You know, I’ve had animals less anxious about my whereabouts than you,” he teased.

Hannibal passed a hand over Will’s back, fingers following the bumps of his spine. Silence stretched between them. Will had begun to wonder if Hannibal had already dropped off to sleep when he spoke.

“So often I worry that you won’t be here when I wake. That during the night you’ll have gone,” Hannibal said, “or that you weren’t truly here at all, and were instead some pleasant dream I created to pass the time.”

Will pushed himself up onto his elbow. He kissed Hannibal, slow and deep, until the hand that was resting on his back was gripping him tightly and Hannibal’s breathing had gone shallow.

Will sucked at his lower lip and then drew back, allowing his forehead to rest against Hannibal’s.

“I’m real and I’m not going anywhere,” Will said. “No matter how many times we argue about the dogs getting on the furniture, or you wake me up with your goddamn harpsichord, or any tiny problem you might obsess over. I’m not going to walk out on you, okay? I want to be here.”

Hannibal nodded, mouth drawn tight as though he feared what might come out if he tried to speak. Will dipped his head and kissed away the strained look threatening to creep onto his face.

“Go back to sleep, cher. I’ll be here in the morning. I promise.”

“Of course.”

Will laid down once more, head resting on his chest. He could hear Hannibal’s heart pound beneath his ear. For a long while Will lay there, awake and smoothing a hand down Hannibal’s side until the tension drained from his limbs.

In the morning, Will snuck out of bed just long enough to brush his teeth and put the coffee on. True to his word he returned to bed after; slipping his arm around Hannibal’s waist and snuggling up. Waiting, for the first time, for Hannibal to return from sleep.

Prompts closed, thank you!

it’s too cold outside for angels to fly, chapter 1

A/N: The long-anticipated guardian angel!Andrew fic! Warnings for child abuse, though nothing too graphic.

Read on Ao3

Nathaniel Abram Wesninski is born on a blustery night in January to a mother with regret in her eyes and a father with danger in his smile. Andrew takes one look at the baby, crinkled and screaming and gross as newborns tend to be, and knows he’s going to be trouble.

“Trade me,” he orders Renee, whose current charge is a giggling delight of green eyes and tousled brown hair. Andrew knows Jean won’t be an untroubled kid - untroubled kids don’t need guardian angels. Still, learning French would probably be easier than trying to keep an eye on this brat.

“Now that wouldn’t be very fair to Jean, would it?” Renee smiles beatifically and Andrew rolls his eyes. “Besides,” Renee says as floats a little closer to peer down at the baby, who quiets and stares at her with wide eyes. “Nathaniel is a sweetie.”

Andrew frowns at the baby, who, apparently now disinterested in the glowing woman hovering over its crib, sticks its fist in its mouth. It looks over at Andrew, icy blue eyes piercing. Andrew’s frown deepens.

Renee turns back toward Andrew, a case file now in her hands. “I need to get back to Jean,” she says, and holds out the folder. Andrew glares at it. Renee sighs. “He needs you, Andrew.”

Andrew takes the folder. Renee smiles. The baby giggles, and Andrew glares at it.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hello, hello! Can I request some almost kisses with the chocobros, please? Like s/o and chocobro are about to share a kiss but then someone or something interrupts them?


The two of you were sitting on the roof of the motel in Longwythe. The night was dark, and the stars dotted the sky. You were looking for him and found him there, alone, and decided to ask him what was going on.

“Nothing,” was his quiet reply. You nodded, figuring he didn’t want to press the issue.

After a beat, he spoke again.

“I’m just not sure about this wedding,” he confessed. You turned to him with questioning eyes. He continued, “I mean, I’ve known Luna a long time. And we’re friends, but…I don’t think either of us are in love with each other.”

“What about the peace treaty?” you asked, your heart beating faster and faster. You’d always had a bit of a crush on Noctis, and this confession of his was shocking, to say the least.

He shrugged. “I have no choice but to go through with it,” he conceded, more to himself than to you. “But I’ve always wondered what it would be like if I could choose my own fate, rather than have it chosen for me…”

He turned to you and that’s when you realized how close he was. Your breath hitched as he drew closer and closer, his lips nearly grazing yours—

The sound of a door swinging open made you jump back. Gladio’s voice rang out, “Hey! Are you two up here? We’re playing King’s Knight in the room if you want to join.”

Noctis blushed and hastily rose to his feet. “Yeah, we’re coming,” he called back, holding a hand out for you, his expression almost sad. “Come on, let’s go.”


You were at Wiz’ outpost, helping one of the farm hands feed the chocobos. One had taken a particular liking to you, and you stroked its beak as it ate the greens out of your other palm.

“Wow!” Prompto exclaimed, clambering over. “Look at these chocobos! Aren’t they amazing?”

You laughed and scratched at its jowls. “They sure are.”

“Maybe one day I’ll own a chocobo farm,” Prompto thought out loud. “I think I’d be pretty good at it.”

You elbowed him lightly, a grin on your face. “You definitely have the right attitude for it. But I don’t know if you’d be able to keep up with these guys.”

Prompto bristled. “What do you mean? I’m sure I’ve got what it takes!” He started babbling on about chocobo care, and you started laughing as he went from being dead serious to outright ridiculous. You started laughing so hard that you almost fell over, and Prompto caught you as you started to stumble.

“S-sorry about that,” you said between giggles. “I’m not normally this clumsy.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged, and you noticed he hadn’t let go of you yet. You looked at him intently and he seemed to be asking you a question with his eyes. Your faces got closer, and he was about to kiss you when the chocobo you had been feeding squawked loudly in Prompto’s face.

“Okay, okay,” he let you go, his hands coming up defensively. “I get it, big guy. No touching.”

You laughed and pet the chocobo’s head, turning to Prompto with a grin. “It’s okay. Next time, we can try that when he’s not around.”


You’d been neighbours with Gladio for a long time. You were sitting in his living room waiting for the others to show up so you could all celebrate your promotion at work. They were due to arrive any minute, and you and Gladio were playing King’s Knight to kill time.

“Oh, hold on,” Gladio paused the game, rising to his feet from his seat on the couch. “I have something for you.”

“For me?” you repeated, cocking your head to the side. “What for?”

“Your promotion is a big deal,” he called from the other room. You heard the sound of shuffling, and then he reappeared with a small box in his hand.

You eyed him curiously. “What is this?”

“Open it,” he suggested casually, leaning back against the couch to watch your expression.

You untied the ribbon and opened the box. Inside was a silver necklace with a simple clear gem. It was stunning. “Gladio, this is too much, I can’t accept this!”

He shook his head, and took the box from you. He gestured for you to turn around, and he helped you put it on. Your fingers skimmed across it as he fixed the clasp, and you turned again to face him.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, smiling. “It’s beautiful.” You leaned forward and kissed him on his stubbly cheek. When you pulled away, he was looking at you with half-lidded eyes. You moved toward him again, and you could feel his breath on your lips when the buzzer for his apartment echoed throughout the room.

He sighed. “Come on,” he helped you off the couch with a wink. “We can continue this later.”


You had decided that you were going to cook for everyone that night. Ignis was always the one slaving over the stove, so you figured you would give him a break and prepare a nice meal for the guys at camp.

It didn’t stop him from hovering over you while you were cooking. You weren’t sure if he was scrutinizing or if he was just casually observing, but his eyes on you definitely made you nervous for more than one reason.

“Can you give me a little bit of space?” you asked meekly, as you stirred the pot for the stew you were cooking.

Ignis smirked slightly. “Is my presence that much of an affront?”

“No!” you replied quickly. “I’m just nervous with you watching me. You kind of have that way about you, you know.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t possibly not know how you are,” you replied, a hand coming down to rest on your jutted hip. “You’re just so prim and proper and always seem to have everything together all the time. I don’t get how you do it.”

He shrugged. “It was part of my upbringing I suppose. May I try a taste?”

You conceded and handed him the spoon. He leaned across you and tasted a sample. He licked his lips (you gulped) and turned to you, relinquishing the spoon. “It’s exquisite.”

“Thanks,” you squeaked, unsure how to deal with the compliment. You noticed that he hadn’t really moved away at all, and if anything he was moving even closer. Just as he tilted his head and you closed your eyes, a chorus of shouts came from by the fire.

“When’s the food gonna be ready?” Noctis called, and Prompto snickered. They’d been watching the whole time.

Ignis cleared his throat. “Momentarily, Highness.”

You just blushed furiously and went back to stirring. But Ignis stayed by your side anyway and helped you finish cooking dinner.


don’t fret, Hunk fixes the scissors

someone pointed out that Lance is growing a mullet so I had to do this

(Lance actually doesn’t mind growing a mullet, but Hunk was making a Rover 2.0 for Pidge’s birthday so being a good bro he took it upon himself to distract Pidge. Look how it ended up for him.)

(Keef is 2cute2handle)

anonymous asked:

Please write Clony I beg you you're the best

thank you for requesting them!! I didn’t really know which scenario to writer, so I hope you like it ~

1107 words, Clay Jensen/Tony Padilla

Clay walked calmly from Mr Porter’s office, though on the inside he was crumpling. He’d completed the cycle, and now what would happen? Would Mr Porter turn in the tapes? Or would he be selfish, and try to keep his job?

Either way, Clay had done his part.

He knew exactly who he wanted to see, Tony, the one who’d gotten him through this ordeal. Someone to yell out, someone to take it out on, and now all Clay wanted was someone to hold him and blindly say it was gonna be okay.

Getting to the Padilla’s driveway and dropping the bike down on the lawn, Clay ran up to Tony’s door and pounded. The tears of all the emotions he felt in that moment - relief, anger, anxiousness - welled in his eyes, the sight of Tony in the doorframe giving Clay such a sense of comfort that he just let everything go.

“I did it, T-Tony, it’s done.”

“I’m proud, Clay, and I know Hannah is too.”

“I don’t-” Clay choked, not entirely sure how to convey his concerns to Tony. “I don’t think Porter will pass it out…”

“Clay, I have copies, remember? Now so do the Baker’s. People will confess, guilt will eat at them like moths eat at clothes.”

“Like Alex?”

“Yeah, like Alex,” Both of their chests pang with sympathy for what Alex must’ve been feeling then. All those posters kept people awfully busy, too busy to notice the kids who were wilting under the weight of the reason for them.

“Can I come in?” Tony nods his head, lengthening an arm towards the stairs. Tony had never let Clay see his room before, only the downstairs. As soon as Tony shut the door, Clay flustered at the amount of privacy they had; especially with the beckoning way Tony was wearing his white vest, muscles prominent through the fabric, tattoos peeking out everywhere -

What am I thinking? Clay was shocked to hear his internal voice depicting Tony in such a way. Though, it almost felt like Tony wanted Clay to notice everything about him, he wanted to turn the other boy on… and maybe, maybe he did.

Admittedly, Tony was heartbroken when he realised that Jeff was paying Clay back for tutoring with trying to get Clay with Hannah, Tony thought he’d never be with him. He wasn’t glad that Hannah was gone, but Clay seemed so vulnerable and lost standing awkwardly against the window in his bedroom.

“Come sit on the bed with me,”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Clay grinned nervously as he drew himself away from the window and sat by the pillows. “Hey, Tony, remember all the gay rumours, about me back in middle school?” being honest, Clay had no idea where he was taking this or how he was going to get to some sort of ‘end game’ but he was trying his best.

“Sure, didn’t my brothers and I say we’d kick their asses?” Tony huffed a short, reminiscent laugh. Clay nodded and looked at his feet, wondering where and what the hell was next.

He cleared his throat to say, “Well, I think they might be at least half true.”
They looked at each other, one with the expression of a lost dog, the other one looked like a bomb had just been dropped. It had, in a ways.

“You’re serious?”


“What made you reali-”


Losing eye contact, Clay did what he did earlier, but with a full understanding of why he was so turned on by Tony. He was damn near to licking his lips hungrily. Tony cottoned on to this, slowly unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off his legs, the sight of which made Clay gasp for air.

“You’re so fucking hot,”

“Still realising how good that word is, huh?”

“Make me say it, Tony. Make me say fuck.”

Tony wasn’t so sure about that, now. Aware of how deep-seated his emotional issues must be after hearing everything on those tapes, he was concerned with how vulnerable Clay might be.

“Again, Clay, you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, have me, Tony, please,” he was too desperate to turn down, it was getting to Tony now, getting to certain areas of him…

Tony ripped down Clays loose jeans while Clay worked on hiking up both of their shirts. Clay couldn’t believe this. Tony couldn’t believe the person he thought would never give him a second glance, even after he dropped the not-so-subtle hint that he was gay.

Tony, virginity long gone, flipped Clay over and lay him down on his stomach into the mattress, Clay already bracing himself with his fists clutching the fabric of the sheets. Making it easier for Clay, Tony fished out the lube from his drawers and slathered it on before going in. Clay tensed with the shock, moaning and giving small whines and gasps at the slight pain. Starting slowly, neither of them felt much, until Tony picked up the pace, Clay even trying to do something to speed it along.


It was painful, it was sweaty, it was love. Tony wanted to go slowly and carefully with Clay but he wasn’t having it - he wanted all of Tony.

“I’ve wanted this since seventh grade, for - FUCK - god’s sake - faster! Harder!”

Tony shrugged and obliged, pretending to be unsure but really he was waiting for the boy beneath him to consent to the real deal. They were hot against each other’s bodies, sweat beading all over and melding where their bodies touched. Once Tony had hit that spot in Clay, it sent the boy limp and quivering and groaning, sinking further into the mattress to ride out his pleasure.

Tony pulled out, wondering if Clay had realised when Tony came a while ago. It didn’t matter, they were both satisfied.

“That was amazing,”

“Yeah, yeah it was, dude.”

“Dude? That’s all I get?” Tony laughed out, sliding off the bed to get some boxers on. Clay, still shaking into the bed, shook his head lightly before flipping over, exposing himself further to Tony. He gave a sweet smile, cupping his hands behind his head before shutting his eyes, though it felt like his eyes were still trained on Tony’s face. Both of them were flushed from the heat, but the sight of Clay like this - after both of them waiting so long - made him burn up. 

Thank god Tony got his underwear back on. 

Originally posted by wintersthighs

Prompt: “You’re always wrapping your arms around me in lines.”

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Angst

You often took Bucky and the others out regularly for shopping, while Tony always complained and said he could get other people to do it, you much preferred doing it yourself and you knew that Steve and Bucky also quite liked the normalcy and ability to walk around and look at new things even if Tony didn’t appreciate it. As such more often than not the only person who was always guaranteed to join you was Bucky. 

He’d taken to hiding his arm in public, unhappy with the attention which generally was a mixture between sympathy and angry, it was taking time, but you knew that eventually the public would be more comfortable with him, maybe finally appreciate what he’s doing now to make up for what he couldn’t not do all those years. 

But there was always one key feature to these shopping trips with Bucky, not the types of food you bought, or the way he carried most of the bags, but the need to hold you. It was surprising, mostly because he wasn’t like that at the tower, in fact he was incredibly opposed to touch on that turf. Yet, shopping trips were filled with a constant sort of touch, whether he gripped your hand and followed behind you like a child, or stood especially close to you.

But the one touch that never changed was the way in which he stood behind you in line for the cashier, he always wrapped both his arms around you (both being key because he was always so cautious with his left and despite knowing that he had total control worried that he’d be too harsh with it). He’d settle his face in your shoulder, almost hiding it like a child, and when you moved he’d move with you in a waddle like fashion. It often got odd looks, but you didn’t mind it…you were just curious as to why he always seemed to do it, was there a reason? His behaviour in a queue verses his behaviour in at home was so incredibly different that it often took you by complete surprise. 

“Hey, Buck?” You were twisting you hands, stood a respectful distance away from him where he was drinking a cup of coffee. 

“Yeah?” You’d never get over how deep Bucky’s voice was or how perfectly preserved his Brooklyn accent was after all these years, because this man could slip into Russian and a million other languages with perfect accents so incredibly easily and then just as easily slip back out into the very first accent that James Buchanan Barnes ever had.

“I have a question…You’re always wrapping your arms around me in lines…and I just was wondering why?” There was a flash of something vulnerable in his blue eyes and for a moment you were certain he wouldn’t answer, that he’d turn you away and refuse.

“I…I don’t like big crowds, I feel like…like I might do something or they might do something, I don’t feel secure…but you ground me and holding you makes me feel safe, in control, and I know that you’d never let me hurt people…and that makes feel grounded and anchored and it makes having someone breathe down my neck bearable, I guess…” The whole time he was rubbing the back of his neck, refusing to meet your eyes as if he was embarrassed…

“You don’t have to come shopping with me if you feel that way, I-” 

“No! I enjoy it! I just…the crowds thing takes sometime…” The urgency with which he spoke made you jump, his voice grew softer noticing this, the distance between the two had been slowly growing, you knowing that he was willing to let you nearer. 

“Okay, thank you for answering me, James, and…and i’m glad I can anchor you like that…I want to be able to always help like that. I care about you.” You did. You cared about him so much that at times it scared the hell out of you because he was Bucky and you were you and could either of you really afford for you to get so attached…but could you avoid it? No, this was a man who loved going to the farmer’s market to pick fruits, who gave little half-smiles that were unsure because he wanted to be approachable but it was still something he was learning, who would bring you a hot water bottle when your stomach hurt, and who would joke with Steve as if he’d never left 70 years ago. And it was with that that you knew it was unavoidable caring for Bucky because he was magnetic and had a gravitational pull that drew you in, and a quiet charisma where at times you’d see what must have been the pre-Winter Soldier Bucky breaking through with smirks, and teasing comments, and winks…and it made you care without even trying.

“I care about you too.” And it made those words even more meaningful because this man was so scared of himself at times, scared of caring, scared of closeness, and yet this brilliant, wonderful man cared about you even in the slightest way and that…that was amazing and heart string pulling and had you wanting him to hold you at the tower like he did in public. 

Our First Day

Author’s Note: oh my gosh I just been having so much BTS feels lately(maybe it because of the comeback or I’m just BTS trash). This is actually base loosely on a dream I had a couple nights ago.


Banana Pancakes - Jack Johnson

First Day Of My Life - Bright Eyes

How Long Will I Love You - Ellie Goulding

Pairing: Reader x JungkooK(BTS)

Word count: 768

Genre: fluff and fluff and did I say fluff?

Originally posted by shitjeon

I’m weightless, sleeping on fluffy clouds. I could stay like this forever. I snuggle deeper in my forest of clouds. but I hear a noise in the distance, threatening to wake me. I groan I’m not ready to slip back to reality. It coming closer, gradually getting louder and louder. Finally, I slip one eyelid open. The sound is coming from a phone on our bedside table. I groan out and snuggle closer to the body next to mine. I hear them grumble out a sorry and slip their arm to turn off the phone. I feel strong arms wrap around me again and I settle back into their comfort.  

“ Babe, you are going to have let go of me.”

“Don’t want to,” I grumble out as I slip my arms closer around him

“I have to get ready for practice.” Jungkook pats my head gently and runs his fingers through my tangled hair.

“Skip it.”

“You know as well as I do, I can’t just skip it.” he sighed out and gave me a tight squeeze.

“I know but we just got back last night. Nothing unpacked.” I bury my head deeper into Jungkook’s broad chest.

“I’m sorry, I promise when I get back tonight I help unpack the boxes.” he still running his fingers through my hair. He always knew that comforts me.

“We were supposed to have a week to settle into the new apartment.”

“It’s not my fault they wanted to change the choreography last minute.”

“Yeah I know, but the second you leave I going to start missing you.” jungkook brings me closer to him and snuggles his head into my neck.

“You keep saying stuff like that I’m never going to leave.”

“Then I guess I just having to keep saying stuff like that.” I giggle out and ruffle his hair.

“What am I ever going to do with you.” jungkook pushes himself into a sitting position.

“Nothing because you’re stuck with me for-ev-er.” I push myself up. I then point to the ring on my left hand as I drew out the syllables of forever.

“You’re such a dork. Ok now I really have to get ready.” jungkook swings his legs off our bed and pushes himself off. He brings his arm above his head and yawn as he stretches. I just now realized he was shirtless and only wearing a pair of baggy sweat pants. I wonder what happen to his shirt…..Oh, wait…. I’m wearing it. I look down at the big white t-shirt and giggle at my own stupidity.

“Wait, take me with you.”

“To practice?”

“No dummy, to the bathroom. I want to watch you get ready.”


“Jungkook I get limited time with you because of who you are. I going to use every second I have with you.”

“Alright come here.” I jumble to the edge of the bed. I wrap my arms around jungkook neck and my legs around his waist. He carries me with ease to our small bathroom. He sets me down gently on the bathroom counter.

“You’re always so clingy in the mornings.” he kisses the side of my head.

“Hey, I have a right to be clingy to my husband.” I swing my legs over the counter and watch jungkook wash his face.

“It still hasn’t set in for me that we married.” he smiles at me. I giggle at his bunny teeth.

“Well get used to it because you’re never getting rid of me.” he comes to stand in front of me and wraps his arms around my waist.”

“Why would I ever want to get rid of you. You’re mine and no one else. I going to try my hardest to keep it that way.” he started pepper my face with tiny kisses.

“Jungkook you’re going to be late.” I laugh out

“No, I’m not, what time is it?” I pick up my phone and show it in front of his face.

“They going to kill me!” I laugh as jungkook runs around the bathroom.

It was mornings like this where I find myself falling in love with jungkook all over again. This routine of our became a norm at our tiny apartment. It wasn’t something jungkook would do every morning. But on days where he had to leave for a tour or a trip, we would try to spend every waking moment together. I would cling to him as much of possible because he would be gone for days or weeks sometimes even months. He never complained though because deep down He never wanted to leave me either. So we kept on doing our odd routine that all started on our first day.

Jungkook so fun to write about. I’m blushing just reading this and I wrote the freaking story! hahaha as always I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it!!<3

Choosing lonely

Post ep for 2Shy for the @txf-fic-chicks challenge. 

Scully was fine. She was always fine. She’d done her job, applied her considerable training. She’d fought. The perp was dead. The last victim would probably never be the same again but she would live.

He followed her to the car. She moved with the deliberation she reserved for their tougher cases. “Scully? Are you sure you don’t want me to come back with you?”           

“I’m fine, Mulder. I’m just tired.”            

He nodded, holding her gaze a moment longer than was comfortable for her. She cast her eyes to the car, flexing her jaw. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Goodnight, Mulder.”

He watched her leave, the tail-lights blurring in the smeary rain. He lay on his couch, closed his eyes, letting the green illumination from the fish tank play behind his lids. The women were single, intelligent, lonely. They’d trusted their fates to a man who became their very ideal, hidden behind a screen, someone who fed their anxieties, who told them exactly what they wanted to hear. Incanto had wormed his way under their skin. Message by message, compliment by compliment. Building them up, inflating their confidence. Anonymously. Fatally.             

He shifted on to his side, dangling his hand to the floor. His fingers brushed the edge of the rug. He wondered about the young witness, the blind girl whose mother had been murdered. Her world was now even darker than before. He swallowed at the thought.  

He waited at the door for long enough to turn around, take a few steps back down the passageway, berating himself for his insensitivity. But he turned back again anyway. He always did.            

She drew back the door after the second quiet knock. “What’s wrong, Mulder?” “Nothing,” he said, brushing past her. He noted the way her hair was still fairly sleek, framing her face. She hadn’t slept yet, despite her puffy eyes. 
“I couldn’t sleep either.”
“I was just making a hot drink. Would you like some?”          
He nodded. “Thanks.” He followed her to the kitchen, so neat and clean, everything in a drawer or cupboard where it made sense, everything labelled and within its use by date. “Scully, do you always open the door at 2am on a weekday?”            
She turned her quirked eyebrow to him. “Only for you, Mulder.”            
“What if it wasn’t me?”            
Pouring hot milk in a white mug, she stirred the powdered chocolate with precision. “You have a particular knock, Mulder. What’s this about?”          
He took the mug and followed her to her couch. Its cool, familiar welcome was a comfort.             
“Those women that Incanto murdered. They were so trusting of him, of his motivations.”          
“And you think that a fat-sucking mutant will knock at my door one night and I’ll just let him in? Mulder, I’m a trained FBI agent. I have a weapon. I’ve already beaten off more mutants than I care to name. Believe me, I’m always prepared.” She sipped her drink and held his gaze over the rim of her mug.
“I’m sorry, Scully. I didn’t mean to imply that you were going to put yourself in danger. I just wondered about the frame of mind of those women. They were independent, single women. But they were lonely.”            
She put her mug down and breathed out. She leant forward. The beauty mark she covered up was visible above her lip. Her freckles made her look so young. Her hair was looser. “Are you asking me if I’m lonely?”          
He looked up, memorizing the intricate pattern of the ceiling rose above the light.  “Sometimes, I wonder if we’re letting ourselves drift away, if we’re unconsciously seeking isolation, if The X-Files are engulfing us in a darkness that we won’t be able to see through, to shift.”          
“Mulder, The X-Files are your life. If you’re seeking the truth, you must expect the darkness. And I’ve seen you when you don’t have them. You did drift, you did seek isolation.”            
He choked out a small laugh. “You found me though, Scully. You came after me and you found me.”            
She took his hand. “Always.”            
A tear burned at the corner of his eye. “Are you lonely, Scully?”            
“Are you asking me if I miss the company of human beings? Because sometimes, when I look in the bull pen, I think the mutants are more fun.”         He chuckled.             
“But if you’re asking if I feel lonely, like those women Incanto murdered; the answer is no. I don’t. My work with you is everything.”            
Removing his hand from hers, he let his head flop back against the couch. “Please don’t say that. It shouldn’t be.”            
“Why is it different for me, Mulder? Why should you be the only one consumed with the work?”            
“Because I brought you into this, Scully. If you’ve lost your way, if you’re not following the path you wanted, it’s because of me.”            
She chuffed. “Mulder, I choose my own path. And that path is by your side. On the X-Files. I’m here because I want to be. And if that means mutants over men, then so be it.”            
“God, Scully…”            
“Please don’t say ‘what did I do to deserve you’ because I’m not a prize, Mulder. And those women that Incanto killed, they were looking for some kind of fulfillment, something was missing in their lives.” She paused to look at him. “Believe me, my life is plenty full.”            
He rubbed his hands over his face then sat forward, elbows on knees. “I was going to say that I never meant to insinuate you needed love to be fulfilled.”
She smiled. “Good. Because that wouldn’t be a very Mulder thing to say. You’ve always treated me as an equal. And that’s important in this world we’re in.”            

The lights of a car flashed briefly through the gap in the curtains. He finished his hot chocolate. She took his mug and washed them in the sink, the sleeves of her robe slipping past her elbows.             
“You can stay, if you want. It’s late,” she looked at her watch. “Or early.”           “Will you tuck me in, too?”            
That’s a very Mulder thing to say.” She gave him her reproachful look. This was the game they played, this banter. Flirting, teasing, back and forth. When they pushed too far emotionally this was where they came back to. He smiled down at her. She smiled back. “Come on, it’s nearly time to get up again.”
“Will you still respect me in the morning, Scully?”            
“Only if you understand that loneliness can be a choice, Mulder.” She handed him a set of bedlinen and a pillow. 

He pulled the crisp sheet under his chin. He watched the unfamiliar shadows play over the walls of her lounge. He breathed in the smell, listened to new sounds and wondered when he’d chosen loneliness. 

Summer is Coming - a Vikings fic

Pairing: Ivar/Original Female Character (Summer)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: choking; knife play
Words: 3183
Summary: Summer has a secret. Ivar has a strange way of flirting. They find it all fits together perfectly

Notes: Birthday gift for @ivarthebonelessx who is certainly one of the generals in Ivar’s Heathen Army. Love ya!!

Link to full fic: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10312628

Excerpt: Summer jumped as a long dagger slammed into the wood of the table beside her. The strong hand clenched around its hilt flexed, pulling the body of Ivar Ragnarsson up onto the bench beside her. She drew back almost unconsciously. She liked the young prince, but he made her terribly nervous. She wondered why he was choosing to come sit next to her, alone and frowning into her cup, when the great hall was full of guests in much better spirits reveling after the holiday feast.

The most handsome son of Ragnar leaned toward the simple girl from the village after he settled himself, making sure he had captured her eyes. “Summer,” he said, flashing that predatory grin everyone dreaded. “You… I have heard things about you.” He pulled the tip of his knife from the table and tapped its blade absently against his head, like he was pointing out exactly where he was holding her secrets.

Summer pulled in a long breath. “What do you mean?” She had recently ended a relationship with a boy from a nearby farm, and she had been very worried about whether he was going to start spreading rumors about her. 

“Oh do not worry,” Ivar said, reaching over and brushing a strand of hair out of her face, “it’s nothing bad.” Summer suppressed a shiver. The prince had never touched her so familiarly before. It felt even better than she had imagined, his fingertips trailing over her forehead, lingering on the sensitive skin just in front of her ear. “At least… I don’t think these things that I have heard are bad.” He took her hand in his then, started twining his fingers between hers idly, their elbows propped up next to each other on the table. He was bold, and casual, like they did this sort of thing all the time.

Finish on Ao3

heres some more angst lmao

i drew this wondering if Mettaton has the same “tear magic” that Napstablook does even after gaining his robotic body. after all he says it himself that he’s made of metal and magic \o vo/ kind of wanted to illustrate the feeling of wanting to be with someone so badly that you get all teary-eyed from it.. overall a very bittersweet feeling

And Then I Guess You Knew

For @txf-fic-chicks


Mulder can pinpoint, now, in retrospect, when he figured out he was in love with her.  There had been twinges, pangs of love, before then, and after. Shoving that damn gun back at her after Modell, handing it off.  Sitting by her bed side after her abduction.  Pfaster.  TV circuits and pretend-soulmates graves.  A tattoo in Philadelphia or a hospital in Pennsylvania.  Dammit.   There were fifty times, at least, where he wanted to perk up and say, “Yes, that’s it! You’re the one!”  

But as she sits on a hospital bed, a surgeon outlining her face with his pretend scalpel, displaying where the howlers were and if there WERE a tumor there, the surgical costs it would take to remove it… Mulder knows EXACTLY when he realized he was in love.  Sure.   He’d already been there months ahead of time.  But he hadn’t really thought about it until that damn photo booth spat out her picture in the midst of Gerry Schnauz’s case.  

Mulder gave an excellent Martin Riggs impression, trying to chase down a car ON FOOT, but this was no Hollywood movie, and Fox Mulder knew he was no Sergeant Riggs.  The Explorer turned up, but Mulder was dialed in.  He’d sink balls deep into this mother fucker’s head if that’s what it took.  He was intellectually fearless, when it came to her.

He was sweaty as fuck, in that police station.  And for God’s sake why was there no air conditioning.  But this bastard had six fingers in the photo and that had to mean something.

FUCK.  Mulder always sank himself into a case but he was terrified at how quickly he was willing to do it here.  And that’s when he knew.  He was a profiler by nature but not by choice, and he was striding into the gates of hell today.  He knew then. There were officially two types of people Mulder jumped into profiling for: helpless kids and his partner.  Not that she would ever willingly be mentioned in the same sentence, and if he valued his testicles, he never would.

Not five, it’s six. He’s at the gravestones.  And fuck, fuck, fuck me she’s not there.  He’s at the RV and fuck, fuck… she’s not there. But he sees the keychain and knows. “Scullay!”


That’s all it takes.  

Mulder has hip crushed a door in his time, but he’s realistic.  He’s 6’1’’ and 180 soaking wet.  If his heel doesn’t go straight through the keyhole to the door jam, he will be kicking twice.  There isn’t a door jam on an RV that can’t hold him, but his elbow is through the window in seconds.  He’s halfway through before he realizes he needs the pipe.  He’s in the door in seconds.

Mulder has drawn down. He’s threaten to kill.  He’s killed.  

Mulder didn’t identify himself.  He didn’t assess any of the uses of force as he burst through.  He drew and he shot.  And he would do it again tomorrow.  She’s drawn for him, after all.

Mulder had never shot like that before.  Little Fox Mulder.  The boy who grew up thinking his adolescent inactivity caused his sister’s death. The little boy that tried to give CPR to a frog one day on the riverbank, amidst all the older kids laughing at him.  The boy that one day, with everything torn apart in his life, would realize he came back from the dead and was missing a molly.  Little, gentle Fox.

Fox Mulder hesitated to pull the trigger on anyone but himself.  Until today.

And that’s when he knew. And miraculously, he was ready for it. But then other names came in the way. Sarah Cavanaugh,  Leonard Betts, Eddie Van Blundht… Ed Jerse.  Diana Fowley.

Mulder was ready the second he saw that picture with the howlers.  The second his heart dropped.  The second he drew down and shot with no introduction or question.  He fucked it up multiple times.  And years later, after he grew up a bit and she let down her guard a bit, he would wonder.

“When did I realize I loved Dana Scully?”

It’s easy, kid.  You ran down an alley way once, and you remembered the first four years of your livws together like a heartbeat.  You descended into hell on your own to find her.  You shot and killed and you could have been lost that day.  But you came back.

I think you know the reason.

Drew this while Ky and I were having a talk. He was releasing some stuff. I’m happy to have a wonderful man who can tell me things that are bothering him instead of hiding how he feels because he tries too hard to be strong all by himself. ♥

itcouldbendoritcouldbreak  asked:

Kiss prompt Mileven 16 please!

Aw I didn’t actually expect to get one of these! Thanks!

16. When one person’s face is scrunched up, and the other one kisses their lips/nose/forehead

Mike had kissed Eleven a few times after their first kiss in the cafeteria. Though El didn’t know necessarily what it meant, her stomach did flips any time Mike was close enough to break the distance between them.

He never really considered she hadn’t known what it meant. Well, he did consider it, but after awhile, he just figured she understood. So when she asked him what kissing was one night, he was, for once, at a loss for words.

One night after a particularly intense campaign, El turned to Mike with big eyes as he packed away the game board. She decided the time to ask was now or never.

“What’s kissing?” She asked innocently. The question had been burning in the back of her mind all day after Max had mentioned she saw Steve and Nancy kissing behind the bleachers, but El had been too shy to ask what that meant.

Instantly after the word escaped her lips, Mike Wheeler flushed scarlet and looked down at his fidgeting hands. The heads of Lucas, Will, Dustin and Max, shot up. They froze in place, sleeping bags in hand, watching the exchange with grins creeping onto their faces.

“Yeah, Mike, what’s kissing?” Lucas snickered.

Mike shot him a look but returned his attention to El.

How could she not know what kissing was? He thought. He had kissed her plenty of times. But they were always quick. They were always quick. Gentle, hurried brushes of his lips against the tiniest parts of her skin. Like on her forehead after her whimpering cries from a nightmare wake him up. Or quick pecks on the cheek when he thinks no one is looking during a campaign. Or the one time he actually did steal a kiss on her lips again under the mistletoe that year.

“Kissing is when…” He trailed off, screwing up his face trying to think of a way to explain it for the sheltered girl. It was difficult for Mike to focus. He was so embarrassed of himself for not realizing that she didn’t even know what he was trying to tell her when he kissed her.

He tried keeping his attention on his socked feet, but El’s warm, inquisitive eyes always had a way of capturing him. “Kissing is when two people press their mouths together, or sometimes they kiss their cheek or forehead like when I—“ he cut himself off before finishing his sentence, suddenly aware of the other four pairs of eyes behind him. He blushed even harder, lips pursed, eyebrows scrunched.

“Why do people kiss?” El questioned.

“Because they like each other a lot,” he said, hoping she would get the point.

“Like more than friends?” She wondered, hoping she was right.

“Yeah, like more than friends,” he choked out. He drew his hand up to his knotty black hair and tugged at it absent-mindedly.

“I understand,” El grinned.

Her newly acquired knowledge also granted her a rush of confidence. She pushed herself off the couch and was in front of Mike in an instant. He was too shy to make eye contact after the exchange they just had and she could see him, nose scrunched, biting his lip despite trying to hide under his mop of hair.

She laced her fingers with his and brought her lips to his cheek, over to his nose, and finally rested a lingering kiss on his lips.

“I like you, Mike,” giving him a tiny smile.

RYN YOU WONDERFUL HUMAN BEING. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DOOD! So, I drew these two in suits bc at school today I doodled Killua in a pinstripe suit and I was just thinking; “damn now I need to draw this for @rynnaminttea” 

Anyway, Ryn you are an amazing person and I love and appreciate you so much! Also, Gon’s bowtie is crooked bc he tried to do it himself lol. Just imagine Killua getting frustrated with him and fixing it himself. What a clumsy boy that Gon.

The Hetalian Horror Show (Plot Summary)

To ease everyone’s curiosity about the game’s plot, I’ve decided to make a plot summary of the game Hima uploaded here!

Keep in mind this is just a summary of the plot until a more precise translation is made. Also, this game takes about an hour or so to finish, so despite being a summary it takes a bit of time to get through it. Because of how long it’s been taking me, I’ve decided to post parts of it bit by bit rather than all at once. I’ll be linking all the parts in this post or… something. Also, this is image heavy.

Here we go!

Keep reading

Have Him [Pt. 7] [Christmas Eve Special]

Carefully removing Lin’s arm from around your waist, you made your way to the frost bitten window.

You looked out to the see the first snowfall of the year. Which is very surprising since New York’s snow starts early November.

You watched as the snowflakes fluttered down to the ground below, becoming a part of the winter blanket. The barely rising sun on the horizon casted its dim rays and made the sight even more spectacular.

Getting lost in the scene, you thought about all the events that happened to you the following year.

Auditioning, Callbacks, Being Cast, Sweat, Tears, Laughter, and Drama rolled all into a box by a wench that pulled at the strings unfolded. And these experiences made you into a better person this year.

Especially the good ones. Finding out that the person that you have looked up to and praised like he was the Lord himself harbored feelings for you like you did him. Not even distractions took away his love from you. Through the stares, comments, and questions about the age difference, Lin proudly showed you off. You were his and he was yours.

“I was wondering when the snow will get to the Big Apple,” Lin mumbled sleepily into your ear. He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head.

You drew freely on his arm with a finger. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

He leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Not at all. Just felt the change in the weather and had to check it out myself.”

You rolled your eyes. “So basically, you didn’t feel my presence and got up to see what’s wrong?”

There was a pause before he chuckled. “Damn it.”

“At least it came right on time. Tomorrow is Christmas,” you stated.

“And I’m overjoyed Santa gave me exactly what I wanted.”

You turned around while still in his arms, confusion written over your face as you stared up at him. His arms tightened around you as he leaned down to rub your noses together. His lips soon meet yours, tangled in a passionate kiss. After a few minutes he broke away to reply:

“He gave me you. That’s all I ever wanted.”