i'm just feeling the angst tonight

you’re safe as long as you don’t imagine your otp slow dancing to ‘the way you look tonight’ in their pjs in the kitchen of their new house at 3am with their heads resting on each other’s shoulders if you do imagine that then you’re ruined im sorry

“Don’t go, Cas,” Dean whispers, a soft plea in the dark, his lips pressed against Cas’s.  “Please.  Just stay.  I just got you back.”  I just learned to love you, he wants to say.  Dean clings to him tighter, pulls his warmth closer.  His fingers stake real estate in Cas’s hips, pinning the angel against him.  He changes his mind, and slips his hand up Cas’s back, letting himself drink in the hills and valleys of Cas’s muscles.  

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas whispers, cutting himself off with a kiss.  Dean hates that it’s Crowley who’s pulling Cas away from him.  He hates everything about the situation.  He has to fight the bitterness rising in his throat at the thought of Cas and Crowley working together again.  “I have to.  I have a lead.”  Cas buries his fingers in Dean’s hair, and Dean wants to lose himself that feeling again and again.  The heat of Cas’s skin against him where they lay - chest-to-chest beneath Dean’s covers; the slide of Cas’s lips on his… it’s incendiary, and Dean doesn’t want to douse the flame.  Watching Cas nearly die in front of him; hearing those words that have been on the tip of his tongue for years… all at once it was too much and not enough, and he’s terrified of letting go of it.  “We have to find Kelly before it’s too late.”  Dean exhales slowly, dragging Cas in for another long, lingering kiss.

“I know,” Dean whispers, pulling his hands up to Cas’s face.  “But every time you leave, I’m scared something’s gonna happen.  To you.  To all of it.  I’m scared I’m never gonna see you again.  Especially now, after–”

“I’ll come back to you, Dean,” Cas says, rocking back enough to look at Dean, their eyes meeting in dark.  His voice is soft and reassuring, and it makes Dean’s heart ache.  “I always do.”

Dean sits on the edge of his bed, still in his boxers, and watches Cas dress in silence; watching the soft amber light of the lamp dancing across him as he moves.  Always the adios, he thinks.  He knows, in the grand scheme of things, this is necessary.  What Cas is doing is important.  But for once, he wants to be selfish.  He wants to say fuck it all and disappear.  

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Dean.”  Cas’s voice pulls him back.  Cas’s hand is on his cheek, and he leans into it, chasing the warmth.  “In the meantime… Keep busy.  Do what you do best.”  Cas smiles, and Dean inhales.  It’s a staggering - and rare - sight.  “Save people.  Hunt things.  The Winchester family business.”  

Dean huffs out a laugh and stands, surging forward to wrap Cas in his arms.  He pushes Cas back against the door and kisses him hard, burying his fingers in his hair.  “Be careful, please,” he whispers desperately.  “I love you, Cas. Please be careful.”  His voice breaks, and he hides his face in Cas’s shoulder.  It kills him, being vulnerable.  But if there’s one person in all of creation with whom he can be, it’s Cas.  

“Always,” Cas murmurs, pressing a kiss to Dean’s temple.  And then he’s gone, and Dean’s chest aches at the loss.  He crawls back under his covers and dreams of Cas until Sam wakes him with a case.  

What is a Family?

Trigger warning: physical & emotional abuse (please do not read if you are triggered by abuse as it gets quite descriptive)

Note: sorry i haven’t published anything in a while…i haven’t been in the right mindset for the past two weeks or so and i hope this little drabbley/one shot explains things. it’s 4:30am and I literally just wrote this straight through. i can’t make any promises, but hopefully i’ll be starting up with my writing again because after writing this, i feel like a huge weight has been lifted :)

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anonymous asked:

14 ? Thanks love

Originally posted by fireprooof

“Can we just…pause for a second!”

You had no idea what time it was, to you feel it’s been at least an hour. Then again you had a feeling this was going to happen now with him.

It just sort of…happened. You both wanted to take things slow, you had just gotten over a bad break up while he wanted to be the gentleman he always was since you two met. But tonight it just sort of boiled over, you were ready. He certainly was more then ready and soon you both were stumbling down the hallway to his bedroom as you two were making out like wild teenagers.

It was sort of a blur to you, clothes were peeling off(he groaned that you had one of those criss cross bras while you sort of eeped when he took his underwear off and you just happened to look down), lips were everywhere against each other, you both laughed over small clumsy things, you tried your hardest not to cry at the overall feeling. By the end of the first round you were both a sweaty mess, but he wasn’t done.

He was so not done.

You said it after he got done going down on you, his head finally appearing face to face with yours. You were trying to catch your breath from another earth shattering orgasm as you watched him lick his very pink full lips. God this boy was going to be the death of you.

He seemed to accept your request, laying beside you while you wiped the hair that was stuck to your face as he gently kissed along your shoulder and neck. Not to be sexual in any way, but in a loving…comforting way.

“Yeh okay?” He asked, he had been asking that the entire time. Your comfort was important to him, he wanted to please you, make sure your needs were met. He wanted you to feel what he had been harboring inside for so long, you honestly had no idea. You had no idea it would be intense, this…loving. He was love personified pure and simple, it almost wasn’t human.

You nod in reply, feeling him gently touch your cheek tenderly as he lazily kissed your lips. 

“How can…you not be…tired,” you ask. He laughs softly with a small shrug in reply.

“Been wanting to do this so long…jus’ don’t feel tired ye’,” he spoke, his voice gravely and low. Your body was on damn fire for him, but you needed to get back to earth just a tad. You two laid there in silence for a while, his head resting on your chest while you did find some strength to play in his hair. Suddenly you made a small laugh, causing him to lift his head to look at you.

“Whah?” He asked.

“If you would have told me years ago I’d have sex with Harry Styles I would have laughed my ass off,” you commented causing him to laugh with you moving slightly to lay beside you. “You know, once this goes public people are going to freak.”

“Does it mattah whah people think?” He asked you, you shake your head, moving to your side to look at him, seeing him do the same thing.

“No, it’s just…I know how the press gets. I have a rep, I’m not really part of your demographic. Plus…I’m scared if I’m going to be honest,” you confess.

“Of whah?” He asked, God he had the most beautiful green eyes. They were so intense and warm.

“Allowing myself to be vulnerable,” you reply. “Thomas…he really fucked me up and I swore I would be more cautious but…you wrecked my world, and it freaks me out a little.”

He takes your hand, making it interlock with yours as he gives it a gentle kiss.

“Yeh shouldn’ be,” he spoke. “I’m very aware of how people view yeh, buh I don’ care. I really like yeh, and I wanna be with yeh. I’ve neva been so shore of anything in my life. Do yeh like me?”

You sigh softly then make a small smile at him. “Course I do…”

“Then that’s all should mattah, it’s gonna be rough…I won’ lie about thah but I’m willing to take thah chance if yeh do.”

Your smile gets bigger, squeezing his hand in reply as you nod.

Okay…” you spoke softly causing him to smile as he leans to kiss you on the lips again.

“Gud,” he replied then moved back on top of you. He must have figured you were back to normal because you started to lose track of time again, being distracted by him and the evil, amazing things he was doing to you all over again.

anonymous asked:

hannigram 8 <3

8. things you said when you were crying (prompt meme)

“Mmm, that’s nice. You should really charge by the hour for this.”

Will sat with his feet in Hannibal’s lap, on the receiving end of an extraordinarily skilled foot massage. They were sat on the porch swing of their mountain cabin, enjoying the last long days of summer, their sweating glasses of lemonade forgotten on the table next to them. The two dogs lay on the ground next to them on their backs, legs splayed and tongues lolling in the heat.

“What makes you think I’m not keeping a running tab for things like this?”

“Hah, if that’s the case, I’ve run up quite the bill. When, may I ask, are you coming to collect, Doctor?”

“Oh, you’ll know when it’s time. I’m not one to forgive debts. Especially when you can offer such wonderful gifts in return.”

Hannibal moved his hand up to Will’s calf at this, kneading it firmly with his hand. He looked over at Will, and the wicked glint in his eye was almost enough to have Will half-hard in his shorts.

Will shifted a little so that he could reach Hannibal’s mouth, giving him a soft kiss in thanks. Hannibal let out a low moan at this, reaching his free hand up to hold Will’s cheek and deepening the kiss. They made out lazily for long minutes, Hannibal’s tongue exploring Will’s mouth thoroughly and his hand still massaging Will’s calf and sending sparks up into his groin.

Just as Hannibal began to move his hand up towards Will’s inner thigh, they were jolted from their reverie by a sharp bark. Will, always attuned to his pack, pulled back reluctantly from Hannibal’s plush mouth to see what had Encephalitis so worked up. The dachshund was already up and running, heading towards the tree line at far edge of their property and barking all the way. Bubbles, their corgi, had perked up, but wasn’t quite ready to give up her spot on the grass unless she was sure something good was going on.

“Ceph! Ceph, what is it?”

Will laughed at the petulant look on Hannibal’s face before getting up to see what had the dog so agitated.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back for you. Keep my seat warm.”

He crossed the small field to find Ceph sniffing and whining at a huge brindled Mastiff, lying on the ground and breathing heavily.

“Oh god, oh god.” Will kneeled down and reached his hand out so the dog could smell it, gaining its trust before running his hand gently over its side to check for injuries. The dog was quite obviously in a lot of pain, but Will couldn’t determine its origin.

“Hannibal!” His voice trembled and broke a little on the last syllable, panic rising in him as the dog continued to whine softly.

“Will? Will, what is it?”

“Hannibal, come here, I need your help.”

Suddenly Hannibal was there, crouching down next to Will and putting his hand firmly on Will’s shoulder, grounding him.

“Who do we have here?”

“He’s hurt. We have to help him, Hannibal, he’s hurt bad. I can’t find it, I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Shhh, shhhh, it’s alright, we’ll figure it out. We’ll help him the best we can. Let me see.”

Hannibal repeated Will’s motion of allowing the dog to smell him, then palpated firmly on the dog’s abdomen to check for internal injuries.

“He’s malnourished, but there’s nothing seriously wrong that I can feel. Let’s see if we can get him to stand. Help me Will, he’ll be quite heavy.”

As Hannibal reached out to get a grip on the dog’s thigh, it let out a loud yelp and began whining more intensely.

“Ah, we’ve found it. He seems to have fractured his leg. Not to worry, though it won’t be a quick heal, he’ll be fine once we stabilize it.”

Will was still shaking a little with his earlier adrenaline rush, but nodded firmly and pet the dog’s head reassuringly.

“Can we give him anything for the pain?”

“We’ll need to sedate him, and yes, I have some morphine in the first aid kit that we can dose appropriately for his weight. We’ll get him comfortable. Can you stay here with him while I go inside and get my supplies?”

Will nodded again, and Hannibal got up to return to the house. When he came back. Will was sitting with the dog’s massive head in his lap, murmuring comforting words. Hannibal wondered if Will knew he was crying, light tracks of tears running unbidden down his face. In that moment, he looked at Will and saw the absolute best of his heart, and he fell deeper into love with him than he ever thought possible. This Will was the shining counterpart to the deadly and bloody Will who had ensnared him all those years ago, and he was equally beautiful for it.

“You’ve got him, he’s going to be alright. I’m going to give him an injection that will take away his pain and put him to sleep for several hours. I can set his leg while he’s under, but we’ll need to keep him on light sedatives for the next few weeks to keep him from moving around too much while it heals.”

Hannibal proceeded to prepare the syringe and put the dog under, his giant tongue lolling out of his mouth as he lost consciousness. Once the dog was asleep and Hannibal was sure he could feel no pain, he took the dog’s leg in his hands, feeling to make sure the break was clean.

“It’s a simple fracture, no other damage to the area. He’ll be just fine.”

He quickly set the bone into place and wrapped it with a splint, giving Will’s hand a squeeze after. Will gripped his hand hard, his breathing coming more evenly now.

“Come on, let’s get him into the house. We’ll pull one of the extra duvets for him to lay on until we can get a dog bed big enough.”

It was quite a task to get him home, as the dog weighed at least a hundred pounds, but the two of them managed it, laying him out on the living room floor next to the fan. Ceph and Bubbles followed them in, sniffing excitedly at the new addition.

Will busied himself in the kitchen while the dog slept, making a big batch of food for him. He made sure to add extra eggs and a bit of olive oil to get his coat back into good shape, and stored the extra in the fridge. It looked like their food budget would be going up quite a bit, but Hannibal found that he didn’t mind that quite as much as he thought he would have.

Later that evening, after the dog had come out from under the anesthesia and enthusiastically eaten his dinner, Hannibal checked on his vitals before letting him doze again. Afterwards, they sat on the sofa with their two smaller dogs, Will’s head in Hannibal’s lap and Hannibal gently stroking Will’s hair.

“You did a good thing today, Will. Your capacity for caring is something you should be proud of.”

“Hannibal, I didn’t do a thing! I sat and panicked while you handled all of the hard parts. I was a crying mess.”

“You found him and you comforted him, and yes, you cried over him. All of these are brave things, Will. I’m proud to call you my partner at times like this.”

“Even when I bring a hundred-pound dog into our small house? We’re not going to have a moment of peace once he’s out from his sedation, you know that.”

“Hmm, I expect not. But if caring for Herakles will make you happy, then I can think of much worse disturbances.”

“…you’ve already named him? I really am rubbing off on you, huh?”

“He’s a strong one, Will. The name is only fitting.”

“Hah, it is at that. And now I suppose my debt column has only increased. How would you like to collect tonight, Doctor?”

“I was going to offer my services pro-bono today, but if you’re offering, I’ve got a few ideas…”

Will laughed brightly, looking up into Hannibal’s warm smile. “By all means, lead the way. I’m suddenly feeling very ready for bed.”

it’s 4 am at 221b and sherlock is working on his best man speech, the papers are all spread out on the floor among pencils and scissors. he’s writing and writing and eventually he start to just let it flow out; his feelings and love and innermost scorching emotions, everything he has ever wanted to tell john 

it’s 5 am at 221b and sherlock reads through the love letter he has written, blinks away that stinging sensation in his chest and throws it all in the open fire

Imagine an au where Achilles was with Patroclus as he died

He’d be so confused by what’s happening because obviously Patroclus isn’t/dying/, he’s not the one who’s supposed to die, that’s Achilles. It had been all but promised that he would die first with Patroclus by his side to the very end. So obviously Patroclus wasn’t dying because the earth simply could not exist with Patroclus dead, it was designed to exist exactly as it did so that Patroclus could wake every morning and smile and help people and whisper words of love into Achilles’ ear. It simply couldn’t continue without Patroclus to do those vital things. So he keeps stroking Patroclus’ hair and babbling that everything will be alright, they’ll stitch him up and everything will be fine. But then he notices that the medics are focusing on men that aren’t as gravely wounded and they aren’t going to come back and waste time trying to save Patroclus. And Patroclus has a hand on his cheek and he’s looking at him like he’s trying to say goodbye and he just breaks because it can’t be happening, he can’t be leaving him, his Patroclus can’t just be giving up and letting himself be taken, because his Patroclus knows he can’t survive a day without him, much less a lifetime. But as he keeps sobbing out pleas for him to stay he slips away before Achilles eyes, and he can feel a terrible tearing in his chest as Patroclus’ hand falls to his side and he realizes he’s gone and he never said goodbye

is it just me or does anyone else think that in “The World Was Wide Enough,” at the end of Hamilton’s monologue, when he says “Raise a glass to freedom” the freedom he’s raising a glass to is death? 

Like I know it’s a callback to “The Story of Tonight,” but I also just feel like it has a double meaning, you know?? 

so remember when thomas met up with gally in the death cure and instead of holding a grudge against thomas for beating him almost to death, he just kind of shrugged it off?

he did that because even though WICKED had taken control of his body, he still blamed himself for chuck’s death. he believed that if he had fought harder, he could have stopped himself.

he thought he deserved to get beat by thomas despite the situation being out of his control. 

so if you ever re-read the maze runner, just remember that gally is dealing with the trauma of having been forced to kill a kid as thomas beats him. he doesn’t even attempt to fight back.

and then he’s abandoned by the gladers who he had only wanted to protect and is left with the people who made his life hell. the people who had literally made him do every single thing that made everyone hate him.

he never had a chance. as a greenie, he was forced to run into the maze and get stung. everyone mocked him after that, especially when he didn’t want to be a runner because he was scared. and the memories he got back from the changing were supposed to make him suspicious of thomas. but no one ever took him seriously because from the moment WICKED forced him to run out into the maze, he was labeled a nutcase. 

this boy’s life was planned out to be the literal worse from the very beginning and he had no one there for him. he went through it all alone but instead of giving up, he continued to try to do his best and to protect people and can we just applaud gally for being wonderful despite all his angst and sarcasm???

kaleidoscopic stars

inspired by all the really good multiverse fics in the pacific rim fandom. 

SUMMARY: Mikasa is nine years old when she learns several things.  One: poison and words are fickle; a knife will always kill a man.  Two: there are worlds inside and around her, and sometimes if she concentrates hard enough, she can feel its steady thrum of power like a soft whisper at the back of her heart.  Three: if you become steel, forged and sharpened and refolded over and over again until the edges of you point outwards, you will not bleed.

ao3 | ffn

When Mikasa is young and her world seems like an infinitely vast place, her mother cuts a symbol into the palm of her right hand and wraps a clean rag around it, pressing a dry kiss to the blooming spot of red that appears on the cloth. 

“You must let it scab over,” her mother says, taking her daughter’s face into her hands.  “Don’t pick at it.  When it heals over and you have only a scar left, I will tell you everything.”

However, Mikasa is only a child, and everything holds no more meaning than if her mother promised to tell her nothing.  Still, she nods, clenching her jaw to prevent the stubborn tears from falling as she cradles her hand to her chest. 

“Do you promise me this?”  Her mother has kind eyes and a kind smile, but the set of her jaw and sharpness of her brows suggest some inner steel that Mikasa herself has yet to grow into. 

“I promise.” 

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it’s so important to remember that it’s not Jack’s fault. He probably feels guilty for putting Bitty in this situation. But it’s literally not his fault. He’s just doing his best being in the public eye in a very homophobic profession. It’s the the world’s fault for being messed up, not his. He’s doing his best