silent gesture

anonymous asked:

22, 23, and 20 maybe?

You were laying in bed with your eyes closed in frustration and your hand pinching the bridge of your nose. Jethro was outside of your bedroom door on the phone. You were naked, frustrated, and royally pissed off. When Jethro reentered the room, you sighed. 

“Really? You had to answer the phone right now?” You asked.

To his credit, he did look sheepish. “I thought it was on silent.”

You gestured with your hands in the air between you. “You couldn’t double check it before we…” you gestured frantically, “…you know! It rang, Jethro, and you answered it.”

“I’m sorry!” He sighed, joining you on the bed, “I didn’t know!”

You sighed and shook your head.

He ran a hand down your arm, the phone long gone. He paused. “I’m ready to try again, if you are?”

You glared at him. “Oh, how romantic, Jethro. Let me just turn on my libido.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, exasperated. “Well it usually doesn’t take much!”

Your glare deepened, and you crossed your arms in front of you. “Is that supposed to be a pep talk?”

Jethro sighed yet again, and moved closer to you. “Listen, (Y/N)…” He grasped your upper arms gently, “I love you. I’m so glad you’re in my life. I’m sorry the phone wasn’t turned off. I really, really am. I’m sorry I answered it, I thought it may be important.” Your resolve was slowly weakening. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, and pulled back far enough only to see your eyes. “I still want you, and I really still want to make love to you right now. So, if you’ll let me, I’d like to continue where we left off or even start over, alright? Whatever you want.”

You glanced down pointedly. “It seems you do still want me,” you said with a smirk.

He smirked back, and immediately pressed his hot and passionate lips to yours. It didn’t take long for you to be ready to try again, too.

4

“We’ve always made a conscious decision to have Lukas express his emotions through silent gestures, be it through giving Philip a Polaroid camera, walking out on a motorcross sponsorship and giving Helen the gun, or finally by kissing Philip openly in front of people who know them. That says ‘I love you’ louder than any words ever could.” 

Burr Knows ASL

As a kid, Aaron Burr had a friend who was deaf so he learned ASL (American Sign Languge) to communicate with him. People wonder why he doesn’t lose his temper or express his feelings because he’ll secretly do it in sign language. During cabinet meetings, he’ll silently be making tiny gestures to communicate his own feelings on the topic but vocally remain neutral. After he shoots Alexander, he refuses to talk and only uses ASL for the rest of his life.

still breathing

A lil 4x03 bellarke speculation fic for your enjoyment

Bellamy can’t stand to watch Clarke cry.

Under other circumstances, he would consider himself strong. He threw away his chance at a normal life the moment he held baby Octavia in his arms, he’s gone to the ends of the Earth and back for her and the other delinquents time and time again. He’s watched loved ones die over and over and still pushed on—

But he can’t stand to watch Clarke cry.

As she sits in front of him, sobbing, he can’t help but to reach out to her, just a hand on her shoulder, a silent comfort, a gesture of solidarity. He lets it rest there for a second, giving her a light squeeze, and he’s about to pull away when she rests her hand over his, anchoring him.

Then she turns her head, resting her cheek over the hand that has a death grip on his. He can feel the wetness of her cheeks, and he is so, so weak.

Bellamy kneels in front of her, sliding the hand on her shoulder up her neck to delicately cup her jaw, his thumb swiping away a stray tear.

“Clarke,” he says, voice low. “We’ll figure this out. We always do.”

Another tear slips down her cheek, and he gently wipes it away. He brings his other hand to rest above her knee, thumb tracing patterns back and forth over the fabric there.

She reaches out and grips his shoulders, still catching her breath from crying, and its natural, the way his hand travels from her knee to rest on her hip, his thumb continuing the comforting circles over her hipbone.

Having her this close—it’s terrifyingly intimate. It’s more intimate than anything they’ve done before, but somehow, it still feels right. His heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest, but he’s breathing easier than he has in months.

He shivers when her hands on his shoulders snake around his neck, fingers curling into the ends of his hair. With a sigh, her head falls forward, forehead resting lightly on his, noses barely brushing.

They stay like that for a moment, just breathing the same air, and he can feel Clarke start to relax before him. It would be so easy, he thinks, to close the gap between them—only a few inches—and just kiss her.

He wants to map her body with his lips. He could make her pain go away, even for just a few minutes—he could make her feel good, if that’s what she wanted.

It startles him, when the thought crosses his mind, that it’s not what he wants.

Of course, he’d do anything he could to take her pain away.

But he wants more than that.

He knows, that as much as he’d like to kiss her at this moment, the timing is wrong. The way things are right now, with both of their still healing hearts, the ticking time bomb that is a nuclear apocalypse hanging over their heads—he could never have more.

It’s why he’s so caught off guard when Clarke closes the distance between them and presses her lips to his.

At first, she’s tentative, her kiss gentle and unsure. She presses another slow kiss to his cheek, his temple, his forehead, and then she seals her lips over his once more.

He’s ready this time, and against his better judgement, he kisses her back.

The second kiss is more demanding. She swipes her tongue across the seam of his lips, demanding entrance, and he gives it to her. She groans into his mouth, and that’s when he knows he’s fucked.

The hand resting on her hip slips under her shirt, smoothing over the soft skin of her stomach and sliding up her spine. His other hand curls around her neck, tangles in her hair, holding her as close as he possibly can.

One of her hands remains anchored in his hair while the other fists into the collar of his t-shirt.

Her mouth moves desperately against his, and she presses against him, silently pleading for more.

He lets his hand roam from her spine back to her stomach, and when he traces his fingers over the skin beneath the underwire of her bra, he feels her whole body shudder.

It takes all his willpower to wrench himself away from her mouth. He tries catch his breath, to get himself under control, to tell her that they can’t, but Clarke takes the opportunity he’s presented her and attaches her lips to his neck, trailing hot, wet kisses across his jaw and collarbone.

“Clarke,” he tries, but it comes out more like a sigh when he feels the light scrape of her teeth against his skin.

She finds his lips again, but he feels wetness on her cheeks. He pulls away.

“Clarke,” he says, more firm this time, and she hastily tries to wipe the tears from her face.

She brings her forehead back to his and grips his biceps. “Bellamy, please.”

He rubs his hands up and down her arms. “We can’t, Clarke. Not like this.” She looks at him then, her bright blue eyes boring into his. “Not when we only have months to live.”

He’s afraid, after he’s said it, that Clarke wouldn’t even want this if they weren’t about to die.

“What if we did?” she asks, and her voice is strong, sure. “What if we did have time?”

He searches her eyes for any evidence of hesitation or uncertainty, but he finds none. Instead, her eyes are clear.

It takes him a long time to find the words. “If you still want this after we both survive the end of the world,” he starts, and even he is surprised at the confidence in his words, “then I’ll be here.”

It feels like a promise, somehow, and she squeezes his arm to tell him that she feels it, too.

She looks at him then, eyes a little watery but otherwise composed. “You still have hope?” she asks.

He almost wants to laugh. The only reason he’s had hope since he landed on this radioactive wasteland of a planet is sitting right in front of him.

“Are we still breathing?”

just reading the life of alexander before bed as you do and 

Upon which, as they were leading him away as wholly useless and untractable, Alexander, who stood by, said, “What an excellent horse do they lose for want of address and boldness to manage him!” Philip at first took no notice of what he said; but when he heard him repeat the same thing several times, and saw he was much vexed to see the horse sent away,

alexander: that’s a real nice horse isn’t it hephaistion [examines nails] guess none of these losers can handle him [flicks imaginary lint off tunic] what a shame

philip: [pretends to be super interested in flight of passing birds]

alexander: i SAID, that’s a REAL NICE HORSE [hephaistion is staring unblinkingly at philip while nodding emphatically] what a SHAME none of these LOSERS can HANDLE HIM, DAD [hephaistion: that’s a real shame alexander]

philip:  [silent eyeroll, j/o gesture directed to nearby cavalrymen. they all laugh, alexander doesn’t notice]

alexander: i SAID, that’s a  R E A L   N I C E  H O R S E -

philip: jesus christ

  • Fantastic Beasts screenplay: Graves holds a finger to his lips, signaling for Tina to be silent. The gesture is PATRONIZING, but authoritative. Tina looks kowtowed—she obeys, stepping back into the shadows.
  • Rogue One novel: "The shield is up," the man in white snarled. He was burying his fear, his fear of her, beneath PATRONIZING disdain and venom. "Your signal will never reach the rebel base."
  • Me: THIS IS SIN. LET ME SIN.
  • imagine when jeremy and jean have a fight, they ignore each other instead of lashing out.
  • so one time they had this really huge fight before they sleep, and jer and jean sleeps back to back instead of cuddling (i would like to think they share the same bed even if they fight, so fight me on this!!!!)
  • but then jeremy being jeremy, can’t stand tensions and anger. so he turns around to face jean’s back, and he sees jean’s shoulders shaking silently. 
  • so jeremy gently reaches out to jean, and places a hand on his shoulder as a silent gesture.
  • jean stiffens at first, then realizes its jeremy, so he relaxes against jeremy’s touch, never mind that they had a huge fight.
  • so jeremy gently coaxes jean to turn around with his hands, and jean lets him be pulled. 
  • its dark in their room, but jeremy reaches up to jean’s face to wipe away the tears that he knows are there, and jean just lets him be. 
  • when jer doesn’t move his hand away, jean just lets jer cradle his face. 
  • and Jeremy Knox is so In Love with his french bean, he leans up and kisses jean softly.
  • jeremy can feel jean’s shaky breaths when they break away, and he’s sorry that it’s his fault they fought this time round. he didn’t mean to say things that would have brought back bad memories. 
  • jeremy presses a kiss to jean’s forehead as a silent apology, and jean releases a shuddering breath as he wraps his arms around jeremy.
  • maybe they’ll speak about their fight in the morning. but for now, jean is content with being okay with jeremy again. 

(pinkheadmedic)

Sasuke brought his head back, catching sight of his wife as her paced steps fell into place bedside him, her words causing a flicking smile to form. She managed to bring the sensation of warmth and comfort with such trivial measures of acknowledgement.

He extended his hand, her fingers wrapping around his in a silent gesture of shared affection. He used to know so little of happiness, but she carried it within herself, a spark of love he could feel entangling him by a simple act of a meeting glance.

final introductions

Cornered while born to be
A cognitive nuisance
That supposedly agitates
The calm of the crowd
From silent gestures
That feel so loud
As inherited discomfort
Is brought out in the open.

Wounds that wind up assuming
Torture constructed agony
Yelling disjointed melodies
As revelatory agencies
Sad mix of secrets with lies
Into cocktail concoctions
Finely transforming weakness
Via strength in the form
Of formal introductions.

How Would Seventeen React If Their Girlfriend Held Their Hand When They Crossed The Road

S.coups & Hoshi: He’d be one to joke about how you held his hand just to cross them road. But he’d think that it’s really cute and wouldn’t let go of your hand afterwards.

DK & Mingyu: He would love that you held his hand and he’d think that it’s cute too. He’d even swing your arm back and forth with your fingers interlocked.

Jeonghan, Dino & Joshua: He’d think that it’s really cute that you held his hand to cross the street, smiling at you when he sees you do it.

Wonwoo, Woozi & Vernon:He would get all blushy and silent at the small gesture. But would still hold your hand, smiling to himself the whole time.

The8, Seungkwan & Jun:He’d get a little flustered at the fact that you did this, though it was just to cross the street. He’d probably even question why you held his hand to cross the street too.

I felt your love in the simplest of ways and those silent gestures meant more than any words ever could
—  Love in Silence
Trying to Court [Dragonformers! Cons X Dragonformer! Reader] [Requested]

Megatron: He would try to impress you in any way he possibly could. Giving you shiny gems and finding the biggest meal to give you. To other dragons who came near, he would fight them all besides his clan since they knew not to get to close to their leaders mate.

Soundwave: Most of the time he would do sweet silent gestures, such as helping you clean your scales/feathers or shower you with affection. At times, Soundwave would follow you like a lost puppy till you snapped at him or duty calls. Every now and then, you would find small gifts in your den and it was easy to tell they were from Soundwave.

Starscream: He would show you off to everyone and keep you by his side at all time, if he could, sometimes he would be a sap and give you flowers or something in sweet gestures. You would have to deal with his complaining about the other dragons though.

Logan Aesthetics
  • Logan: a fresh cigar clamped hard between teeth, worn leather jackets, bruised ribs, bloody mouth, staring someone down intensely, lips curling into a snarl, the vibration of a low growl, silent gestures of kindness, carrying someone with ease
  • Laura: the feeling of a building scream, holding your dad's hand and feeling the callouses, being kissed on the forehead, falling asleep in the car and being carried to bed, leaping into things headfirst, fierce familial love, bloody knuckles
  • Charles: the wisdom of years, the silences between father and son, the smile on your grandchild's face, the feeling when things are slipping away, the grief and pride when your child has to carry you, the fuzz of forgetting, gentle exasperation, being tucked in with blankets, the warmth of a rare smile
An Important Mission

Summary: For the first time since starting their family, Hinata leaves Konoha on a long-term mission, leaving Naruto to look after the kids. Naruhina.

Word count: 2,200-ish.

.

“Make sure you wake Boruto up at seven to get ready for the Academy, otherwise he just sleeps in. Shino-kun’s been saying that lately he hasn’t been coming to class on time. There’s some leftovers in the fridge that should last until I’m back, so please don’t just eat ramen every night. Remind Boruto and Himawari to practice their Juuken every day as well, and take the-.”

“Hinata,” Naruto said, grasping his wife gently by the shoulders with a chuckle. Hinata fell silent at the gesture, blinking up at him in surprise. Even in the all the time he’d known her and with how much she had grown, it still struck Naruto as amusing to see her speak so freely and with such confidence.

It was in her nature, he supposed. She’d always been nurturing and caring, so attentive to the needs of others. Willing even to lay down her own life for those she loved; much like his own parents before him. It really shouldn’t have surprised him that she would slip into the role of mother so seamlessly.

“Don’t worry about us ‘ttebayo. We’ll be fine.” Naruto said, kissing her softly. His hand cupped her face caressing her cheek, as his gaze held hers earnestly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

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nohrianprince-deactivated201603  asked:

Leon glances up from studying his tome to find Takumi standing over him. The Hoshidan prince asks if he can sit down, and the Nohrian prince silently gestures to him that he may. Leon sets his tome aside, turning to face Takumi. "You look happy, did you find some new amusement?" "You could say that..." Takumi grins devilishly. "What is it then?" Leon asks, finding himself suddenly disturbed by Takumi's barely contained glee. Takumi leans in, slowly whispering into Leon's ear. "I found your blog"

I can’t imagine Leon’s reaction but I have a feeling he’s realizing he’s into Takumi especially that everything Takumi does seems to have some weirdly seducing undertone. Either this is some weird game of chase thing or Takumi simply finds pleasure in BEING AN ASS

humor-us!

for @minyoonini:

Imagine a pocket-sized you scrambling up onto the desk where Yoongi is preoccupied composing, a too-innocent grin on your face. He doesn’t notice you at first, headphones on and eyes glued to the screen, but you manage to get his attention by tugging on his sleeve. He glances down, raises an eyebrow in silent question. You gesture for him to lean in. Still suspicious, he loops the headphones around his neck and lowers his head until his nose is level with your head. “Yes?”

“What time did the man go to the dentist?”

He’s confused for all of a second before he’s frowning, mouth opening in protest -

“Tooth hurt-y!”

There’s a sudden burst of laughter from the doorway. Yoongi turns and immediately spots Hoseok huddled on the floor, holding his sides. “Really? Really? It wasn’t even that funny.”

You take that as a challenge and puff out your chest. “What do you call a fake noodle.”

Yoongi groans, but mumbles a “what” around his hand.

“An IMPASTA!”

Hoseok proceeds to die. The older boy rests his forehead on the desk and mutters a few expletives along with a “why me?”