Reigen stared at him, his expression stern in the way Serizawa had learned it was when he didn’t have to keep up his customer service pleasantries. He stepped close to him and rested his forehead against his shoulder, hiding his expression. His quiet words, however, Serizawa could hear loud and clear.
I keep thinkin about domestic percy and annabeth who’ve been together for so long that they’re so comfortable around one another and they can read each other so well? and i’m emotional but hear me out
passing one another in the kitchen with gentle touches to the other person’s back for no other reason than they can and maybe they want to reach out and feel the warmth of skin through that thin t shirt
greeting each other with small kisses that they’ll give for their rest of their lives, hands reaching for hands and arms and squeezing as they walk off together
percy’s arm around annabeth’s shoulders and annabeth’s arm around percy’s waist as they stand together
annabeth’s hands at the base of percy’s spine as they stand facing one another, a gentle pressure, dipping underneath his shirt and the waistband of his basketball shorts
hands cupping cheeks to kiss mouths and noses and foreheads, thumbs stroking cheekbones and fingertips brushing into hairlines
percy’s hands in annabeth’s hair, gently untangling the curls as she sits on the floor with her back to the couch he’s lying on, her head bowed over a pile of blueprints
percy’s head in annabeth’s lap as they lie in the park in the sunshine, the gentle brush of her fingers at his temple as he sleeps
annabeth’s hand on the back of percy’s neck as he drives, palm cupping the base of his skull and fingers messing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck, her face tilted towards her own window as the breeze and the sunshine soaks her
annabeth sidling up to percy and him lifting his arm for her to fit under without a word; annabeth kissing his cheek before settling against his side
waking up to morning breath and her palm over his mouth as he tries to kiss her, knees between thighs and hips flushed together, laughter pressed into each other’s skin
sitting in each other’s laps and giving each other piggyback rides (especially when one of them is injured - annabeth carries percy bridal style around camp when he twists his ankle during capture the flag one time)
percy’s fingers twirling annabeth’s hair around and around as they lie in bed together, heads on one pillow, darkness and a whole city of noise outside their window, silence in their bedroom but for the quiet exchange of whispers about their future and the universe and what they’re going to name their kids
eating breakfast at the table in their pyjamas, chairs pulled together as annabeth pushes her feet into percy’s lap and he rests one hand on her shins and drinks coffee with the other, quiet content smiles exchanged over mugs and pieces of toast
hands held, simple as that, fingers crossed and palms together, wrists pressing two heartbeats close together
after reading fanfiction my tolerance was regular books has decreased so much. i mean i know that books are great and all, and i still love them, but where the fuck am i going to find one where i get to have sex with alexander fucking hamilton??
I was reading a post that basically said there's canon evidence of Murdoc reading everything in his house, and seems to be a little bit embarrassed by that and doesn't like to admit how intelligent he actually is. I like to think the rest of the band finds out that Murdoc will read basically anything thats laying around the spirit house too long. Noodle starts leaving self help books laying around. Like how to recover from an abusive childhood, and books about how to keep healthy relationships. The books always disappear so she assumes he threw them away until she went looking for something in his room and finds them neatly stacked under his bed
“And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life,” Percival read aloud, the story coming to an end.
Credence’s sleepy head was laid on his lap, the boy barely conscious after the long day. They had to attend another trial.
Patting Credence’s short hair, slowly massaging the nape of his neck, Percival thought with some resentment how hard it was to make everyone believe his boy was innocent. At times it seemed he was the only one who stood on Credence’s side. His people were judging him, Percival was well aware of it. Grindelwald’s victim - the word was still heavy on his tongue every time he had to say it out loud - and the defender of an Obscurial; one of these titles would be hard enough to bare. Two were like a death sentence.
They would be his death sentence too, he thought, if not Credence’s gratitude, the way he filled the empty spaces in his mind, repairing the shattered pieces of his life Grindelwald destroyed so easily. He hoped, deep down, that maybe he was helping too, even if only a bit.
Though he was sure the boy was already asleep, Credence’s voice reached his ears,
“Which one would you choose? The Wand, The Stone or The Cloak?”
The boy struggled to sit up, body numb after staying in the same position for too long, but Percival scooped him in his arms, holding him close and safe, sheltering Credence from the world and its harm. He could feel the faint smell of cinnamon and rain lingering on his hair.
“What about you?” He kissed Credence’s ever-cold nose, letting him rest against his arm, head heavy and already full of dreams. “If you had a choice, which one would you choose?”
“The Wand. So I could protect you.”
There was something painfully naive and childlike in Credence’s sleepy voice as his whisper hovered above Percival’s neck, warm breath making his skin electric.
He pressed a soft kissed onto Credence’s brow, realizing with a small twitch of his lips that his companion decided to doze off instead of going to bed on his own two feet, forgetting about his own question.
“The Cloak,” Percival said nonetheless, balancing Credence in his arms as he tried to stand up and catch his balance. “So I could protect you.”
The second time Ronan hugs Adam he’s not sure if it can even be considered a hug. Adam’s tired and his muscles ache. His body is sore from working all day, moving from one job to the other. He longs for sleep, a shower, Ronan’s comforting embrace. His mind takes him back to that hug Ronan gave him in the aftermath of finding Glendower. He thinks of Ronan’s strong arms holding him up when he felt like he was falling - making him feel safe and loved. He sighs deeply, his chest aching briefly, reaching for the keys in his pocket to open the door to his lonely apartment. He wishes Ronan was here. It’s been almost a month since Ronan first hugged him, and although they can barely keep their hands and mouths off each other, hugging isn’t a gesture that occurs regularly between them. Adam wishes it was. He turns the key in the lock and pushes the door open. However, he stops in the doorway, mouth parting slightly in surprise, then slowly forming into a soft smile.
Ronan Lynch - in nothing but a pair of soft grey sweatpants - lies spread eagle on Adam’s mattress, threadbare blanket tossed aside, headphones over his ears, face calm and relaxed in sleep. Adam drops his bag beside the door, after closing it, and rubs his tired eyes as if to make sure he’s still awake and that Ronan Lynch is in fact inhabiting his bed. Briefly, he wonders how Ronan got in. But then he remembers the mix tape in his car and muses at Ronan’s sufficient lock picking skills.
Although Adam wants nothing more than to crawl into bed with Ronan, he’s in desperate need of a shower. He takes a last longing glance at Ronan before silently making his way across the room to his tiny bathroom. He pulls his clothes off and steps into his small shower, scrubbing furiously at the sweat and grease sticking to his tanned skin. Occasionally he splashes water over his face so as not to fall asleep standing under the spray of warm water. Soon enough, Adam leaves the shower and dresses in a pair of worn out pyjama bottoms that are considerably small on him - the hems ending above his ankles. Running a hand through his damp hair, Adam exits the bathroom eager at the thought of finally getting into bed with Ronan.
Tired and aching, the shower having offered only a small comfort to his sore muscles, Adam crawls onto his lumpy mattress settling himself over Ronan. Slotting himself into the space between Ronan’s parted legs, Adam slides his arms under Ronan’s back as if Ronan’s torso was a pillow, pressing his cheek against Ronan’s chest, hair brushing Ronan’s collar bone and throat. The feel of Ronan’s skin against his own, and his body heat, is both overwhelming to Adam’s senses and instantly comforting. Adam feels that similar ache in his chest from earlier. He has missed this desperately. Despite the hardness of his muscles Ronan makes the nicest pillow Adam has ever slept on.
Just as Adam is drifting off to sleep Ronan shifts, his arm once resting above his head moves to wrap around Adam’s waist and hug him closer. Adam - mind now losing itself to sleep, good ear pressed over Ronan’s steady beating heart - doesn’t hear the rustle of Ronan removing his headphones. But, he does register the moment Ronan’s hand softly pushes his hair back, running down the back of his neck before coming to rest on his shoulder rubbing circles into his skin with his thumb. Adam mumbles incoherently into Ronan’s skin, sinking into the feeling of Ronan’s body beneath his. Ronan’s arms holding him close, keeping him warm and safe, Adam finally surrenders himself to sleep.