on a blanket while on the floor

hogwarts houses & autumn aesthetics

gryffindor. the crackling of fire; roasted marshmallows; loud laughs; soft pillows; socked feet; burning your tongue while sipping a hot drink too quickly; jumping in coloured piles of leaves; the smell of cinnamon, orange and chocolate; hair blowing wildly in the wind; oversized sweaters; listening to loud music through headphones; baking with friends and laughing hysterically at the mess you create; watching stars from the rooftop; lying on the floor in a moment of deep thought

ravenclaw. watching people through foggy windows in cafes; overthinking; clouds of warm breath in the cold air; the cold crisp of air against your face; cups of hot coffee in the morning; listening to the hammering of the rain against the window, or the roof; wrapping up in soft blankets; silent chuckles; hidden smiles; the sound of pages turning; soft scarves; muttering something under your breath while concentrating; loose ponytails; deep conversations at night; paint in warm colours; tired yawns; falling stars

hufflepuff. messy buns; the sound of crunching leaves under your boots; knotted cardigans; wide smiles; star gazing; deep sighs; soft socks; rosy cheeks; fluffy earmuffs; vanilla scented candles; hanging fairy lights everywhere; warm and long hugs; hot chocolate with marshmallows; pumpkin carving; staying in bed just a little bit longer; flower crowns; sunny mornings; walking around with flowers in your jeans pockets; delighted laughs; capturing the last rays of sun with a vintage camera; intertwined fingers; cuddles

slytherin. cold fingertips; walking through the woods; inhaling the cold air at night; content smiles; the feeling you get when you can finally lay in bed after a shitty day; pressing your forehead against a cold window; combat boots and oversized coats; dark lip colours; the flickering of candle light in the darkness; misty mornings; black tea; leather gloves; deep, husky voices; amused smirks; walking barefoot on a cold, wooden floor; black, wide-brimmed hats and vintage sunglasses 

fun facts about marquis de lafayette
  • came to america illegally, against the rules of the king, disguised as a pregnant woman
  • didn’t tell his wife that he was gone until after he was sailing away
  • got captured and brought back to france again, escaped on a cargo ship and bought all of the cargo to keep the ship from stopping
  • was raised on a farm because after his father died his mom fucked off to paris without him
  • got laughed off the dance floor by marie antoinette once
  • after the revolution he came to america and people were making gloves with his face on them
  • he refused to kiss the hands of ladies wearing these gloves because he didn’t want to kiss himself
  • named his only son georges washington de lafayette
  • named his daughter marie antoinette virginie de lafayette and called her virginie after washington’s home state
  • fought in the revolution for free because he loved america that much
  • napped with george washington under a tree once while using washington’s coat as a blanket
  • he was super tall especially for the time, like 5'11"
  • became fluent in english within a year of arriving in america
  • found out about the revolution from king george’s cousin, who was complaining about the revolts at a dinner party
  • is buried under american soil and a little american flag flies over his grave to this day because he had it imported from bunker hill
  • he didn’t have to help us but he did it that was nice
  • and then we went and fucked up the country anyway
  • we need to fix it for him
Happy Thoughts for a Bad Night
  • McGonagall comforting all of the little first years when they have had a nightmare, assuring them that even brave lions depend on the pride for strength. 
  • Sirius Black was one of these scared little lions after he was sorted into Gryffindor 

  • He had a nightmare about returning home and McGonagall would not hear of one of her lion cubs calling himself a disappointment, assuring him that he was too “what do the muggles call it these days? I believe I have heard one of my students refer to it as Punk Rock” to be anything other than spectacular. 

  • Sirius Black making it his mission from then on to aid every young student who had a nightmare.

  • He would stay up for hours telling them stories of Dumbledore and McGonagall and all of the amazing things they had accomplished and adventures they had been on while they snuggled into the little nest Sirius had built for them on the floor out of pillows and blankets. 

  • He would act out grand tales of Godric Gryffindor slaying magnificent beasts, fantastically illustrating his death defying maneuvers with over exaggerated movements and faces.

  • Any child who was frightened, no matter how old they were, always knew that they could quietly rap on his door and hop on his bed for a good story and a feeling of warmth and security. 

  • Eventually, after the first month of rapping on their bedroom door, the other marauders started to pitch in.

  • Peter would gather the blankets, because he was the best at fort building, and would settle all of the kids in to get ready for the story.

  • Remus would pass out sweet treats and hot chocolate before tucking in closer to the younger ones, because Moony’s hot chocolate is the best and no one would dare drink the stuff if anyone else made it. 

  • James would help Sirius with his epic skits and would cast dancing shadows on the walls in the shapes of hippogriffs and lions so that the younger ones felt protected and safe inside of the haven these four boys built for them.

  • Eventually, because it’s Hogwarts, word spread and Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas decided that the girls needed the same type of system.

  • In the event of a thunderstorm, Lily and Sirius made a plan to bring all the kids downstairs to the common room where they would all sit together in a giant nest of love and comfort, until they either fell asleep again, or the bad feelings passed enough for them to climb back into their own beds.   

  • Lily would braid hair so the little lions could have a mane when they woke up in the morning.

  • Dorcas would bring her guitar and sing softly when the mood required a more relaxed form of soothing 

  • Marlene would charm night-light stars on the ceiling so that the room would never get too dark and scary. 

  • One evening, after a very very violent storm, McGonagall decided to go up and check to see if her little lions were okay. 

  • She found everyone curled up in the common room, in front of the fireplace with thousands of charmed stars and shadow protectors on the walls. and 7 very gangly 7th years sleeping in a circle on the outside of the little ones. 

  • Instead of interrupting the peace, she walked to a sleeping Sirius Black, smoothed back his hair from his face and whispered “10 points to Gryffindor for finding courage and love in the heart of a storm” 

Imagine Hades’ Palace in the Underworld. It’s a grand but barren palace with Roman columns made of human bones, black marbles floors and yellowing, cracking sculptures. There’s no furniture or rugs; not an ounce of warmth or humanity anywhere in the grand structure.

But his bedroom, a private annex toward the back, is carpeted in lush moss. Flowering ivy hangs from the canopy of the bed thats covered in pillows and blankets.  Assorted pots and planters sit on the sill of the tall, pointed windows that flood the room with blue light.  Candlesticks sit on stacks of books surrounding the overstuffed reading chair that Persephone sits in, her legs draped over the arm, reading poetry out loud, while Hades lies in bed, watching her, trying to remember what his time in the Underworld was like before she came to stay and brought so much life with her.

just Soft bucky things to make u wanna actually pass out 10x

  • bucky gettin his hair brushed which he finds is actually relaxing once he gets past the initial :/// of having things near his head, so sometimes he’ll just sit on the floor in front of whoever’s closest and they’ll brush his hair and it’s veyry Nice™
  • falling asleep curled up on the couch which should be Difficult because bucky is not smol but he fits so he just burrows under the blanket that’s usually left on the back of the sofa and can be asleep in minutes. clint once sat on him thinking that bucky was just a huge pile of blankets. that did not go well. clint was apologizing for weeks even though he was the one with the dislocated shoulder. no one sits on the couch anymore when bucky’s nowhere to be found. they just assume he’s curled up there. 
  • flowers. so many flowers. bucky apparently loves them so when steve buys them a house (bc of course he does lol) he makes sure there’s enough space in the backyard for a garden. ((maybe against his better judgment he doesn’t tell mention that bucky used to love flowers Before everything happened. because he doesn’t want bucky to subconsciously change his feelings/reactions based on What Used to Be. still, he secretly marvels about the fact that after all this time, bucky still lights up at the sight of pretty roses. it’s precious))
  • bucky has a thing for mittens. he’s not even sure why but once, at the nursing home (where he visits sometimes; they get a real kick out of him there for some reason), one of the elderly lady’s knitted him a pair to keep his metal hand warm after he touched her accidentally one day and made her cold. he’d felt bad about it for so long until she gave him a pair of mittens for his birthday as a surprise and told him to stop pouting and looking at her like he stepped on her dog. he barely takes them off now and when he does, they sit right next to the hat the old lady taught him to knit for himself. it’s their thing and he loves it.

soft bucky is the only good thing left on this dying earth thank u this has been a PSA

New Parents
  • "Baby's awake..."
  • "Someone smells like they need a change!"
  • "I think I might have gotten three hours of sleep."
  • "Have you seen the baby blanket?"
  • "You look exhausted."
  • "Is the baby seat in your car or mine?"
  • "They're finally asleep."
  • "Can you take the baby for a little while?"
  • "Are you making that smell or am I?"
  • "Laundry again?"
  • "Excuse me while I pass out on the floor."
  • "Can you take out the trash?"
  • "Baby spit up on the dog again."
  • "You want to go out for dinner? Are you insane?"
  • "Are there any bottles made up?"
  • "Did you grab any diapers?"
  • "How many bags do we need?"
  • "Shh! Baby's been sleeping for a while now."
  • "Can I borrow a shirt?"
  • "Playpen, stroller, high chair, diaper bag, cooler, floor bumpers, eating mat... I think we're ready to go visiting!"
  • "Did you remember the baby?"
  • "I had to tell a lady in the grocery store not to stick her head in the carrier."
  • "Your turn."
Waiting Room

Summary: Bucky provides support to his best friend, and ex-girlfriend, as she makes a choice that will forever change her life. College AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2872

Warnings: pregnant reader, heavy mentions of abortion (and takes place at a clinic), angst and fluff out the ass. 

Author’s Note: I made the mistake of listening to “Brick” by Ben Folds Five for the first time in a while, and this is the result. I’m honestly not even sure where this came from, tbh. Read at your own discretion, please. Also you will probably maybe cry. Or at least tear up.

Six a.m. Day after Christmas. Bucky hadn’t slept, although the alarm on his bedside table was beeping. He didn’t move, staring at the darkness beyond his window. It was cold, the blankets on his floor and the window cracked. A gentle breeze caused goosebumps to crawl over his skin and he let out a breath, watching as gentle mist appeared in front of his lips. He couldn’t see anything aside from the space right in front of his eyes, the light from a streetlamp below flickering like a fallen star.

The world is asleep, Bucky is numb.

Keep reading

Me, thinking about domestic JakeJane: Jane got married in a big fluffy white dress and it took Jake a full three minutes to sort through the layers enough to stick his head under the skirt on their wedding night. They live in an upscale apartment with wood floors and watch movies on their sunken couch while nested in Jane’s near excessive amount of throw blankets. She’s an heiress and businesswoman and he writes alternative thinkpieces on unarguably terrible films from home. They own a pet rabbit but Jake is slowly getting used to the idea of a kid, maybe two.

Me, thinking about domestic DirkJake: Shitty apartment above an increasingly noisy college kid that gets laid way more than probably healthy. Jake is pacing the length of the living room waiting for an acting gig callback. Dirk is sprawled across their living room futon in boxers with a frozen pizza slowly thawing across his chest. He just got home from his shit IT job. Their apartment is always exactly eight degrees too hot in the summer but there’s so many shitty magazines scattered around it’s easy to find a makeshift fan. (Jake has like three different GameInformer subscriptions because he doesn’t know how to say no when the GameStop employees ask if he wants one.) Dirk is mumbling something about having pizza since it’s already half-cooked on the sizzling hot skillet of his abs. Jake tells him that, as appetizing as that sounds, love, he’ll order takeout. His phone rings. He probably didn’t get the part but this time, like everytime, his hopes are high.

Feeling inspired by the recent Richonne goodness so I wrote this...

The water ran down the drain and washed away the remnants of discarded toothpaste; Michonne rinsed her mouth and then her brush before placing it away and extinguishing the light. Her bare feet landed lightly on the carpeted floor as she found where Rick was lying on their makeshift bed. It was a number of blankets and sheets she and he had spread out earlier in the day; he had made sure most of the pillows were on her side.

Her anger and frustration from before had waned, but the fight was still inside of her. While she trusted Rick with her life, she wondered what kind of life they would be living under tyranny and subjugation. Everything they had, they had fought for. Michonne was not used to NOT fighting.

She kneeled down next to the man she loved and drew back the covers; she slipped under them, but did not close the distance between herself and Rick. Their relationship had been strained in the aftermath of the tragedy their group had endured and the strain weighed heavily on her heart.

Rick shifted beside her, folding his pillow over in an effort to get comfortable. Though his mind was still tormented, he felt slightly more confident in their situation than his beloved did. He inhaled deeply, his back to Michonne, and considered turning to face her. When she made no attempt to touch him, he remained as he was.

The floor was hard underneath them, Michonne registered. She silently reprimanded herself for the thought given she had slept in far less adequate places. Things could always be worse, she finally mused. She was lying next to the person she was in love with. They had survived another day. There were people who did not have anybody to love. There were people whose souls longed for those lost to them forever. Her heart sank at the thought of her friends and the hurt that was engulfing them. She shook the thought from her head and focussed on Rick’s steady breathing beside her.

He had made his decision out of love, not weakness and she knew that. She recalled his confession about Judith and her heart swelled with admiration for the man who lay restless at her side.

She heard Rick sigh and wondered what he was thinking. She knew he was more likely than not thinking about how grateful he was that no one else had died that day. How he was able to convince Michonne to see his reasoning even though it was against her very nature.

Her love for him had helped; her love for him is what stopped her from doing anything rash. He had gone against his own judgement for her many a time, the least she could do was try to do the same for him.

“Rick?” she whispered, shifting closer to him.

“Yeah?” he answered as he rolled over to face her in the scarcity of light; the warmth radiating from her body calming him.

“Thank you,” she said. “For everything you do for us. It’s not easy to do what you do. I’m grateful to you.”

He remained quiet, still astounded at her ability to say the right thing at the right time.

“What I said to you today, about me trying,” she continued, before reaching over to stroke his hair. “I meant it. I’m gonna try.”

He smiled sadly and relished in her touch; he placed his hand at her waist and moved his body closer to hers.

“I know,” he said softly, tracing circles on her skin.

She trailed her hand down to cup his face before pressing a kiss to his mouth; it was tender, forgiving, sweet and honest.

Keeping her lips close to his, Michonne whispered, “I’m gonna try because I’m not losing you either.”

On The Door Step - part 1

Parings: Dean x Sister!Reader x Sam

Summary: In 2000, John Winchester opened the door to his current motel room and found a little girl at his feet, sleeping peacefully with a fuzzy white blanket tucking her in a wicker basket. Now, nearly 16 years later, (Y/N) has still yet to find herself in the world of the Winchesters.


Warning: Slight season 10/11 spoilers, moody teenager, cursing, angry Dean, mentions of character death

Words:  1,332

A/N: Hi again, just wanted to thank everyone for the notes on the prologue. After a while of thinking over the story, I have discovered what I wish to do with it! And I apologize in advance for long periods between posts. Enjoy!

My bare feet feel cold against the bunker’s tile floor as I make my way to the kitchen in the dark. The sleeves of the huge hoodie Sam bought me last Christmas cover my hands, keeping them warm from the chilly air. Expecting to see my brothers sitting at the table, their faces glued to computer screens and bodies jittery from caffeine, my heart sinks closer to my stomach when I find the kitchen empty.

“Where the hell are you?” I breathe into the empty space.

I check my phone, reloading my messages. Nothing. Radio silence.

Sam left me at the bunker a week ago, telling me he had to stop Dean from doing something stupid again. He’d given me a hug, a kiss on the forehead and then rushed out the door in a blur. Other than a message explaining how I have to stay in the bunker and that they’ll call me out of school until further notice three days ago, there’s been nothing.

Balling the ends of my sleeve into my hands, I cross my arms and sink into the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. The dark thoughts I have been fighting so hard to keep back come creeping back in.

I haven’t even heard anything from Castiel or Charlie… At least one of them would give me some kind of update.

I run my fingers through my hair, slightly pulling at the strands as I can feel the tears weld up in my eyes. They can’t be dead. They’re Winchesters.

Just as I’m edging on the ledge of an anxiety attack, my phone lights up and vibrates against the tile floor. I scramble to pick it up, dropping it in the process of switching the small green icon to answer the call from Sam.

“Sammy?” I ask weakly, biting on my thumbnail and hoping it’s not an officer calling me because they found their bodies.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Sam says calmly and releasing a sigh. “I’ve been meaning to call, but things have been… busy.”

I roll my eyes. They’re always hiding things, or trying to hide things from me. They dropped me off at a library before they asked the man who cut off his arm questions and they also tried to cover up the fact that that man’s family was going to burn the bunker to the ground (I wasn’t home for that either, they thought it would be best to drop me off at Jody’s for the weekend).

They can never tell me everything.

“Is Dean okay? And have you heard anything from Charlie, she hasn’t been answering.”

Sam takes a moment to breathe deeply, and I can just imagine how tired and stressed he looks. A heartbeat later, Sam’s ready to talk.

“(Y/N), Charlie’s dead.”

“What?! When?!”

“She’s been dead for a couple of weeks, (Y/N/N).” Tears well up in my eyes, and I have to fight them from falling. “Dean killed the men that did it.”

Of course he did.

“Castiel isn’t doing to well, but the three of us will be home soon.” With that, Sam hangs up and I close my eyes as a few tears trail down my cheek. She was my best friend. How could they not tell me? How come it took so long to tell me?!

I can feel the slow simmer of my blood beneath my flesh and my eyes flicker to the digital clock on my phone’s screen. I have an hour to get to school.

My fingers hold the ice pack against my eye lid as my body shifts in the chair across from the principal’s office door. The secretary judges me from her thick pink rimmed glasses, and I glare back at her in response. My leg bounces with the left over adrenaline from the fight that had just taken place in my math class. To be honest, I don’t know the kid that I started this fight with, I’m not even sure he deserved it, but I had to do something.

“Winchester,” Principal Young calls from her office door, just as Dean and Sam walk into the front office. They both catch the eye of the secretary, and I snicker as she ogles at them. Dean glares at me, silently asking me if I think this is funny (he’s completely unaware of the old woman practically drooling over them). 

I quickly make my way to the small office and take a seat in front of the wooden desk, my hands between my legs and my head ducked down. Young takes his seat at the desk, pointing to the other two uncomfortable chairs for my brothers to sit. Once they do, he sets to work, explaining that I have one last chance to clean up my act or I’ll be expelled.

Young finishes by giving the same spiel that he’s given me before. “You’re a good student,” “You have good grade, you just need a better attitude.” The same tune… yadda yadda.

Frustrated, I drop kick the ice pack into the parking lot once we were excused. Dean is the first to speak up.

“So, what? We come home and you decide you just have to punch the first kid you see?” He hollers, tossing my book bag at me. My bag drops to the concrete, the zipper undoing and spilling the contents. I watch the blank notebook papers dance in the air, tucking my hair behind my ears before bending down to pick it up.


“No, Sam! I wanna know!” Dean continues to yell, tossing his hands up. “Every time we’re gone, you’re “the best student of the school” but when we’re here, you seem to lose your fucking mind!” 

“Dean!” Sam shouts at our brother, pulling on his shoulder to force him to stop. “You’re making it worse.”

My body feels extremely warm and my cheeks are damp with tears I hadn’t realized I was shedding. My stomach clenches tight and my vision blurs with the unsheded salty water and my shoulders quiver and the palms of my hands dig into my eyes as the reality really sets in that Charlie is gone.

“(Y/N)?” Dean kneels down and places a hand on my shoulder.

“I miss her,” I meet his eyes, my voice quivering. I haven’t cried this hard since Sam dragged Dean’s wounded body to his room, telling me that Metatron killed him.

Dean pulls me into his chest, my fingers wrapping tightly around the flannel. Dean hugs me tight, smoothing out my hair, mumbling, “I miss her too.”

After several long minutes of my brothers giving me hugs, Sam walks me to the car with me tucked under his arm, promising me that we’ll get back to the bunker and we’ll sit down and watch whatever movie I want. No matter how cheesy and romantic it is, we’ll watch it.

Castiel greets me with a weak smile as I take my spot in the back of the Impala, and my eyes drift to the cuffs around his wrist. My eyebrows raise, “why is he cuffed?”

“Rowena did something,” Sam answers bluntly. “We’re taking precautions.” Nodding along to Sam’s words, I tuck my bag between the seats and smile at Cas.

“Would you like me to heal that?” Castiel huffs out, slowly raising a hand towards his own eye. Before I can speak, Dean interrupts.

“Cas, you need your strength.” Cas seems to ignore my brother, still watching me as he waits for an answer.

“No, I’m good.” I sniffle, forcing a large smile. “It adds character anyways.”

Castiel smiles weakly before resting his head back and slightly closing his eyes. Dean speeds out of the parking lot, Sam grumbling something underneath his breath, and I lean back into the seat, my eyes growing heavy as I watch the trees pass by.

I’ll never forget you, Charlie. I close my eyes, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she can hear me wherever she is.


Moar Elorcan fic

I hope you guys like this cause I wrote it while drunk off of starbucks, idk why I’m not really feelin this one, constructive criticism is always appreciated and welcomed :*


“I know you’re awake.” Her quiet words seemed too loud as they broke the comfortable silence between them. Other than the crackling of the merry fire there was nothing to be heard in their bedroom. The cushions and blankets, spread out on the floor in a haphazard manner greeted her body as she slid from the couch to the floor where Lorcan lay pretending to be fast asleep, his hands behind his head and posture just a shade too controlled for him to truly be in the warm arms of slumber.

Elide made herself comfortable on the floor as she slid next to him and scrutinized his closed eyes and even breathing. She traced a finger down the length of his nose, trailing all the way to his Adam’s apple which bobbed slightly under her touch, down till his navel and stopped there. Teasing him was one of her favorite things.

“I know you’re awake.” She repeated. “What’s the point in pretending now?”

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards; stubbornly refusing to open his eyes. Teasing, he thought, was a game two could play.

Elide narrowed her eyes, annoyed for a split second. That is, until his arm drifted up towards her and rough, calloused fingers caressed the left side of her face. She let out a contented sigh and leisured in the sensation of his thumb stroking up and down her cheek. Deciding to be merciful for the night she retrieved her hand from where it lay on the laces of his pants and nestled into the crook where his neck met his shoulder.

He pressed his lips on top of her head and breathed in her scent- cinnamon, elderberries, and new life. More prominent now that she no longer carried the residual scent of Morath and the Wyrdkey. His hand trailed down from where it had wrapped around her, to her swollen stomach and gently cupped it.

“How do you feel?” He asked. More for his benefit than hers as the primal instincts in him surged up to check on his pregnant mate.

She thought for a moment, considering the question rather than just brushing it off that she usually would. “My ankle.” She admits finally, “It’s sore and hurts more than usual.” Immediately she feels his body tense up underneath her at the thought of her being in any level of discomfort.

“Does the brace help?” he murmurs, now shifting her as he sits up and lays her on her back. “The brace is marvelous.” She assures him. “This much pain on the feet is normal for six months, it catches up when I’m sitting or lying down though.”

His only response is a huff; Elide bargains that he’s probably thinking of a way to brace her ankle even when relaxed and quietly laughs at the mother hen of a Fae warrior that she loves.

“What’s so funny?” Lorcan had crossed his legs underneath him and pulled her bad ankle onto his lap, gently kneading the mangled and ruined flesh with his fingers. Choosing to ignore his question, Elide let out a moan of utter bliss as her untreated ankle receives some attention.

Lorcan paused, his eyes darkening at her expression. She knew his mind had wandered to other memories associated with her moaning, and nudged his stomach with her foot. “Keep going.” She commands, and he resumed his ministrations with a dark chuckle.

“If that’s any indication, I should do this more often.” He said with a grin, Elide’s only response was breathy affirmation. She couldn’t tell if she was agreeing with him or cheering on his massage skills.

He takes his time, rubbing and kneading with care as if she were a fragile piece of art. Bringing her other foot to his lap as well, he gently probes some parts with his fingers and puts pressure on ones that seem stiff with soreness. All the while the only sounds that greet him are Elide’s soft sighs. After a while his quick ears detect her breath evening out and realizes that she has fallen asleep, a smile of contentment on those soft, pink lips of hers.

Lorcan crawls up beside her and throws an arm around her abdomen, shifting his body so that she is cocooned in his warmth. He knows that Elide will probably laugh it off in the morning, but he swore he felt a slight shift underneath the palm of his hand as he closed his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.


Pairing : percival graves x reader
About : The morning after
Warnings : Lil nasty cause we all thirsty. No direct mention of sex tho.

The sounds of birds lazily chirping and the sun shining ever so lightly shined thro the morning sky, the presence of morning mist overshadowing buildings. This was my favourite time of the day,  the calm before the storm. The soft fabric of my blanket covered my bare body, leaving my shoulders exposed to the cold atmosphere as I sat on the bed with my legs crossed over each other, recalling the night before.

There was clothes everywhere on the floor. Our shirts didn’t even make it to the bedroom as I could see it lying in the living room.


Instead of using a key, he just waved the door open with his hand as we stumbled inside. What started out as a fun flirting session we had in between work breaks ended up with lustful looks while passing the corridor. Months of sexual tension was built up until none of us could take it anymore.

Hence, I pulled him to the storeroom in MACUSA headquarters and and pressed my lips against his. This was basically a move under the influence of frustration and impulse. The consequences of my actions started to down on me as I slowly release the fist of fabric around his collar, only to be greeted by him placing a his palm behind my neck,  gently pulling me in closer.  A smile formed against my lips and he pressed his lips hard against mine while I clumsily undid his tie.  ‘Not in the closet.’ he whispered breathless, slightly worried someone might catch us.

I’m not sure how but we ended up in his living room, clumsily taking off each other clothes as we stumbled in his bedroom. And from what I managed to catch through the walk there, his apartment was pretty damn big, it looked rich under the moonlight, a few photographs of people hung around the house.


He looked so peaceful sleeping, the usual  serious face and posture relaxed. He slept facing down, the white blanket covering him from his lower back down, his black hair falling from the perfect swept back he kept at work, strands covering his undercut. ‘Stop staring at me.’ He mumbled, half asleep. ‘I am not staring. I’m regretting ’ I joked.

And in flash of movement, I was pulled back to bed beside him as he proped himself up on his elbow, his face inches from  mine. ‘Regretting huh?’ He questioned, raising an eyebrow. 'Yup’. I agreed, popping the 'p’ on purpose.

Within seconds, I could feel his fingers snake under the blanket and started to softly trace my upper thigh. 'Did you regret this?’ He whispered, breathe hot against my neck. I bit my lip in return, unable to find words to reply. His hands crept up to my waist, 'This?’ He teased. My right  hand automatically rested itself in the crook of his neck, eyes fluttering shut. 'Pretty sure you didn’t regret anything when you sat on top of-’ 'PERCIVAL!’ I exclaimed surprised and flustered, covering his mouth with my plams. I could feel the rush of embarrassment on my face, a hint of victory present in in his eyes.

I removed by hands  and snaked my arms around his waist instead, head against his chest. 'Percival, I’m pretty sure we are breaking some type of rule.’ 'We’re not’ He confidently replied. 'I asked Madame president.’

'How and when did you ask her?’ 'Oh, well, I made a story up about how two people in the office are dating and we should take actions. She waved me off and said it’s not against any law. I brought this up last month.’

'Well, I’m glad to find out you have been thinking about me since last month. I murmured, tucking my head under his neck while his hands ran up and down my naked back lazily. 'I have been thinking about you since the first time we flirted.’ '3 months of sexual frustration? Damn, Mr Graves.’

'Calling me Mr Graves in bed might not be a very good idea.’ He announced in a warning tone and pulled me closer to his chest.

The familiar feeling of bravery and excitement came over me and with that and  little bit of extra strength, I pushed him to his back with my arms and sat on top of him in a swift moment. My hands laid flat against his chest as I leaned down and kissed his neck, a smirk playing across my face.

'Why not, Mr graves?’

A/N : My first time ever writing on tumblr. I dont know but I was just so inspired so I kinda vomitted out my nasty thoughts. Please gimme your feedback 💓💓💓💓

anonymous asked:


probably and then Tyler does a little yell (it’s totally a shriek) and kind of pulls the blankets over his head to hide from the Tom Brady smh but he messes the motions up halfway through and just sort of falls off of the bed and lays on the floor while Ethan laughs from another room

the world is magic.
above us are the clouds, the twinkling stars, and the sun that feeds us warmth. right beside you is the deep blue of lakes that reflect the vine-painted walls of a forest, nighttime car rides illuminated by the lights of the city, and floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the countryside.
there are people to learn from, people who will hurt you, people who will stay by your side, and people who will leave after no time at all. and that’s okay.
there are elders to guide you, friends to laugh with you, and lovers to learn how you tick like a clock. there are rainy afternoons filled with coffee and records, foggy sunday mornings to wake up in cashmere blankets and kiss the nose of your lover, and lonely midnights on rooftops while you try to figure yourself out.
there’s the feeling of another person’s lips, the heaven of sex, the excitement of loving another human being, and the disappointment when they aren’t right for you. there’s inner satisfaction, inner peace with oneself and the world around you, and the realization that it’s okay to not have it all figured out.
it’s all there. it’s all perfect. it’s all magic.

Family {35}

Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Yelling, Hitting

Words: 1,653

Previous Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18,19, 20, 21, 22,23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34

Keep Breathing. Just Keep Breathing

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a cold & some cats

so this is for @yumberry who told me to work on my essay when i asked for someone to yell at me…hope you like it!!!

“I think I might be dying.”

“Mmm, I hope not.” Keith pressed a hand to Lance’s forehead and it was warmer than normal. “Otherwise, who am I going to marry in a few weeks?”

“No one-” Lance sneezed. He pulled the blankets further over him. “No one but m-” Then he started coughing. “Keith,” he whined.

“What do you need?” Keith rested on the floor by the bed, hand still on Lance’s forehead. “Tissues? Medicine? Water?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Alright, I’ll make you some soup then.” Keith stroked back Lance’s hair. “Need anything while I’m in the kitchen?”

“Hand me-Hand me-Hand m-” Lance sneezed again. “Tissues please.”

“You got it.” Keith smiled as he handed Lance the blue box of tissues. “Stay put.”

Lance nodded in response as he blew his nose and Keith went off to the pantry.

He looked at all the pasta boxes and spices and what-have-yous until he located a can of chicken noodle soup. “Perfect.” Keith tossed it up and down with his hand as he made his way over to the stove.

He placed a pot over one of the burners and after he did that, he opened the soup.

Once he poured it in, he turned the flame on low and leaned against the sink, waiting for it to warm up. He got to stand there for a minute before he heard Lance practically shriek. At that, Keith bolted for the bedroom.

“Lance, are you alright?” The worry faltered from Keith’s voice quickly once he saw what was causing Lance grief.

It was Keith’s cat, Butterscotch. She was currently standing on top of Lance’s chests, paws no doubt digging into Lance every time she walked. Then she sat, tail swishing, watching him with her blue eyes.

“Ah, so you screamed because of my cat?”

“You-you might think this is funny but-” Lance sneezed again and Butterscotch remained as she began to settle down. “I need you to get her off of me. Please.”

“Oh, but the two of you are so cute together.” Keith crossed his arms as he came closer. He smiled. “My two favorites.”

“While that’s sweet and all, she’s practically trying to kill me.”

“Butterscotch has done nothing wrong.” Keith smoothed back her ears and she purred.

“Babe, just, do it.”

“Oh, alright.” Keith put both his hands under her stomach, lifting her up, earning a loud meow. “Okay, sweetheart, let’s not.” He cradled her in his arms as he took her with him to the kitchen to check on the soup.

It still wasn’t ready.

“Huh.” Butterscotch, at that point, wiggled about in Keith’s arms. “Girl, what are you-”

She jumped forward, nearly escaping but Keith held on.

But while he did so, he managed to knock the pot off the stove, spilling lukewarm soup onto the floor. “Are you kidding me?!” He let go of Butterscotch and she darted away. “Dammit.” With a paper towel roll in hand and the gas turned off, Keith knelt to clean everything up.

After he used one paper towel, Lance shrieked again.

“Coming,”’ Keith called, as he spread some paper towels so that they could soak up the soup.

When he reached the doorway again, he almost laughed at the sight.

Butterscotch had seemingly recruited Lance’s cat, Pumpkin, to sit on Lance with her.

“I don’t appreciate this one bit.”

“It’s-It’s cute.” Keith stifled his laughter as he walked over. “They want to take care of you, Lance. They love you, just like I do.” Keith sat on the bed next to Lance. He patted his leg. “It’s sweet.”

“I am sick.” Lance turned to look at Keith, his mouth trying to stay a hard line. “They do not understand thaAAA-” Keith smiled as Pumpkin rubbed his face against Lance’s. “Keith! Help me out here, man! Their-their fur-” He sneezed and Pumpkin rejoined Butterscotch. “It’s official.” Lance closed his eyes dramatically. “I’m going to die.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” Keith smiled as he leaned over Lance. “Remember, no one else is allowed to marry me except you.”

“That’s going to change if you don’t get these cats off of me.” Lance opened his eyes, dark blue looking right at Keith.

“Don’t forget, one of them is yours.”

“And one of them is yours.” Lance smiled, tilting his head. “Don’t forget.”

“You’re too much.” Keith smiled as he leaned down and placed a kiss on Lance’s cheek. “Too much.”

“You proposed, remember?”

“Don’t remind me.” Keith smiled as he stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make you more soup.”

“But first, kick the cats out of this room.”

“How dare you treat your children this way,” Keith smiled as Lance gave him a look. “Don’t look at me like that. I picked that up from you.” He pointed as his sick husband-to-be as he picked up both of the cats. “Don’t forget,” he said as he walked through the doorway, shutting the door behind him.

Once he placed the cats on the floor, Keith went back to cleaning up the mess.

“All done,” he said to himself as he threw the towels away. “Now, more soup.”

He scanned the pantry once. “Now, that can’t be right.”

So he scanned it again.

And again.

And again.

But there was no more soup.

“What do you know?” Keith muttered as he scratched his chin. “All out of soup.”

He went back to the bedroom, Lance still awake.

“Babe, the last can of soup got spilled.”

“Unbelievable. First your child corrupts mine then you spill the last can of soup in the place.”

Keith laughed as he made his way over to Lance’s side. “Excuse you, but I didn’t spill it.”

“Oh,” Lance said, as he raised an eyebrow. “Then who did?”


“Further evidence that your child is a corrupter.”

Keith smiled as he sat down next to Lance, soon joined by Pumpkin and Butterscotch. “Yeah, well, she’s your kid too.”

Lance smiled.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Baby’s First Christmas

From the text @oriona75 send me!!

You sat on the blanket covered floor as you watched your husband play around with your four month old baby boy, Oliver. Jensen held the baby up by his hands as your sons giggles filled the room. While Jensen bounced his feet lightly against the ground in front of the big Christmas tree at his parents house, he looked up at you and gave you a wide smile. One of those smiles that reached his eyes. 

Your mother-in-law came in from the kitchen holding a tray of hot chocolate. Getting up from the floor you walked over to help her. 

“He really enjoys playing with Oliver doesn’t he?” She smiled as she sat down on the closest chair to her after you took the tray. 

Setting the try on the table you took a mug and handed it to her before taking one for yourself. “Jensen loves playing with him every second he’s home. He hates being away from him for so long. And with it being Oliver’s first Christmas he’s just so excited.”

Your attention fell back against your boys again. Your heart fluttered at the sight. Jensen had brought Oliver in close to his chest and was leaving small kisses against his face while whispering how much he loved him. 

Earlier when the two of you woke up this Christmas morning, you forgot which one was the actual child. Jensen was so excited to let Oliver see the presents that Santa brought him. Ever since you were little you always thought of what it would be like to celebrate Christmas as a family and with a little one. 

What you were experiencing today was more than you could have ever imagined. 

Steve and Tony cuddling underneath a big blanket after a long mission is something I need. Tony has come away with some bad bruising while Steve is lucky to not have killed himself jumping out of the quin jet without a parachute…again. Bucky yelled his ear off for that because he never gets used to it but all he does is just wave him off as he carries a tired and sleepy Tony to their room. 

The rest of team head off to their own floors while Thor makes his way back to Asgard for important princely duties. Steve enters the room, thanking Jarvis for opening the doors, before gently placing Tony onto the more than spacious bed. He lets out a weak moan and reaches for Steve which causes Steve to smile as he leans down, pecking Tony’s forehead. 

He quickly checks him over before removing his suit and deciding that they’ll shower in the morning. The mission was a rough one and it took them about three days to complete but it was worth it in the end as they achieved their goal. 

Steve lays himself next to Tony before curling up around him, his arms wrapped loosely around his waist to avoid jolting his bruised ribs. He rests his cheek against Tony’s curls and takes in the familiar scent that is Tony, the scent that makes him feel right at home, that makes him feel safe. 

Tony releases a loud yawn before relaxing against Steve’s chest, hands curled into fists as his knees pull in, his face going slack and peaceful. He’s completely settled in the warmth that Steve provides, taking comfort from that fact that Steve is there and he’s with him. 

Steve pulls the blanket over the both of them before letting himself sink into the soft mattress as well as the feeling of Tony next to him. Within a few minutes, he’s asleep and the world around them, for once, goes still. 

[Alternate version of where this is actually a memory that Steve remembers for long ago while he’s hiding out with the rest of Team Cap. It’s a bittersweet memory and he doesn’t go back to sleep until the sun rises because the pain the memory brings is too much.]

Bad Luck (Leonard x Reader) Imagine

Triskaidekaphobia is the irrational fear of the number 13; thus, by extension, Friday, the 13th.

Leonard finds out about your triskaidekaphobia and decides to mess with you a bit…


I hate him.

I hate him.

I hate him.

I swear to god, I hate him.

Those were the only thoughts that went through your head as you struggled to find the courage to leave your bed.

While you usually preferred to stay in your room until the late hours of the day, all comfy and cozy under the blankets, something had awoken you from your slumber and caused you to look around.

At first, it seemed like everything was fine; but, upon closer inspection, you realized everything was but fine.

An opened umbrella had littered your floor. The number 666 had been etched in your closet door. Shards of a broken mirror were scattered on top of your bedside table.

On the corner of your room, three black cats had been caged in a metallic pen, all staring at you with their bright, bulbous eyes.

And the ladder…

Dear god, the freakin’ ladder…

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