so much i had to leave out

The more I read about 4-17, the more I’m confused. People couldn’t seriously expect Jay to stay and talk everything out with Erin, could they?

First, let’s put the analysis of Jay’s behavior aside for a minute and remember that CPD is a damn TV-show. What would have been the purpose of bringing this new storyline to life if at the end of the episode Jay had been like, “Sure, Erin, let’s talk”? That would’ve made no sense, just a waste of screen time. Not to mention that now, that would’ve been out of character.

And that’s my second point. I feel like the most of those people who aren’t happy with Jay leaving are so used to see Jay as an ideal sweet and supportive boyfriend and only in this light (I can’t quite blame them for this given there wasn’t much of Jay outside of Linstead this season) that they forgot he is a veteran. Jay-boyfriend would stay. Jay-veteran has left. Jay-boyfriend is ready to be there for Erin while Jay-veteran isn’t ready for Erin to be there for him. More on this under the cut.

Finally, girls, stop blindly siding with girls. My heart breaks for Erin too. The way she handled the whole situation does her credit and speaks volumes about the depth of her feelings for Jay. She sure deserves our compassion but so does Jay. Just try and look at the situation from the other point view.

Warning: long post ahead.

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Thinned out sliding opaque through plaster–veering starboard towards the neighbors water supply–daisy leaf sprouting listless–palms in retrofit/leaves shrouding Gomorrah babies destroyed in the wrath of salt–my horns butted against bronze halter tops–brick layer revolution brick layer exexution–lean into the hallway arch baby–tequila your lips–I touch your shoulder you tense–it took you back–I had twenty minutes of the insatiable you before the recoil–Still. I don’t mind so much. It gives me melancholy to think of life without you–I am a free bird, hovering over the same space in my freedom.
—  Stimie
Attention A.R.M.Y.s

I know no one will read this but I can’t stay silent.

Lately Jimin from BTS had been receiving so much hate and has been subject to many death threats and rumors.

There have been multiple twitter accounts that have dedicated themselves to harassing Jimin. They are telling him to leave BTS. That the group would better with out him. Some are even telling him to go die. I’ve seen screen shots of conversations between people planning on killing him.

People are saying he hates his fans. That he hates the entire A.R.M.Y. They are calling him evil.

Jimin loves his fans so much and he works so hard for us. BTS wouldn’t be BTS without him.

So A.R.M.Y.s everywhere let’s fight back against these haters and support our boys. We have to be an example for them. It won’t be easy but we can’t fight back with cruel words though. We have to be kind. It’ll reflect badly on BTS if we act the same as the haters. A.R.M.Y.s are supposed to be loving.

Let’s help Jimin by spreading this tag: #WeloveyouJimin

@nightmares06

Ah, man, there’s just so many options. I’ll leave out the most obvious ones, since they tend to be canon pairings (Sam/Dean, John/Sherlock, Jacob/Bowman), and there’s some fun combos to be had!

Jacob/Sam– The quiet pair, both getting things done without so many impeding them. They need to look after their sassy counterparts, and know exactly what the other is going through. That being said, with Jacob so much younger than Sam, he looks up to Sam and admires him despite how Sam is so much smaller than he is most AUs, and this makes Sam puff up with pride for impressing the tallest human he’s ever met.

Dean/Bowman– Alot like Sherlock/Bowman, this pair has enough sass to end the world. We let them get into a loop of sass in at least one story, and had to find a way out without them just bickering to the end of time. Because, seriously, they would.

Oscar/Dean– Despite the odds, these two are an adorable pair. Dean usually scares the shit out of Oscar when they first meet, but when he gets past it, he’s going to be so proud, and Oscar gives him a good dose of perspective at how scary he can be to the small folk.

John/Sam– A lot like Jacob/Sam, these two are very chill, Sam looking up to the good doctor. Whether Sam’s tol or smol, he’d admire what John does every day, saving lives.

Dean/Sherlock– The world will implode from the sass.


@neonthewrite

Night is not exaggerating about those sassy pairs imploding the world though. Honest to God, we had a story with Bowman and Dean talking in circles for what was probably a chapter’s worth of sassing, and we opted to cut that down because they were getting ridiculous. I have no doubt that if Dean and Sherlock got started, they could do the same thing. Lessons have been learned. Things that should not be forgotten are immortalized in memory.

Oscar/Dean– I’m a huge fan of this too. They’re just such good buddies despite their beginnings (it’s something of a running joke in my own stories that Dean will grab Oscar at some point in each one). Dean is one of the scariest humans around just by being so intense, and yet Oscar warms up to him. It probably baffles anyone else who sees them. Can you imagine Bobby finding out that the most timid little he’s ever seen will just hang out with Dean Winchester, the guy even monsters are afraid of?

Sherlock/Bowman– We haven’t written anything for it yet, but musings have happened. They’d be such a funny pairing. Can you imagine Bowman fluttering around the ceiling of 221B or perching up on the curtains to yell at Sherlock? John would come back from groceries to Sherlock having a row with a flying plant person that fits in a pocket.

Jacob/Sam– Jacob and Sam are a pair near and dear to my heart. One of the earliest team-ups we imagined. They are both way too tol in proportion to Dean, and so they are dubbed Team Sasquatch. They get things done, and do not mess with them when they need to take care of their sassy counterparts. Do not.

Jacob/Oscar– The biggest and the littlest sweethearts. The cutes could go on and on.

Again, I haven’t had the honor of writing opposite @borrowedtimeandspace​‘s take on the Baker Street Boys just yet, but I’d love to see how smol Jacob would fit in with them. There’ve been musings for that, too. ;) Once we have a more solid plan, it’s only a matter of time.


@borrowedtimeandspace

Time is definitely something I wish I had more of ;w; So many ideas with all these characters, so many rl responsibilities getting in the way. Thank goodness for the internet and jotting down all the musings for later, because ONE DAY they will happen!

John/Jacob– smol Jacob especially would be cute to pair with my second-favorite doctor, but any iteration of either of them would just be chill and adorable.

Oscar/John– Similar to the above, but more along the lines of John doing his best to assure the lil guy that no one’s gonna hurt or trap him, not even Sherlock. All the tea and nibbles and cutes.

Oscar/Sherlock– And on the other hand… Regardless if Sherlock has already been ‘trained’ by smols, poor lil Oz would probably have a hard time interacting with the detective based on his intensity alone. Doesn’t help that Sherlock’s likely to poke if he doesn’t get a response right away. Unsupervised, I doubt much would get done between these two for a long time.

Sherlock/Bowman– I strongly agree that, if left to their own devices, these two would do little else but bicker and chase/avoid each other until the world collapsed around them. Help them.

And I pretty much agree 100% with John/Sam and Dean/Sherlock. All the cutes on one hand, all the sass in the other!


Have a question for us? Ask away! And don’t feel like it has to be just about the stories! We’re open to talk about anything!

moldavian-ho  asked:

I can't believe i forgot to tell you this, but thanks to you i'm super bitter the show doesn't have an adorable Isak and Vilde friendship. I'm rereading I'm Not In Love today and melting bc they're so cute. Idk whatever it is that you're writing next, but make it more of this. You love their friendship, you said it yourself. And don't leave out my fave Eva. Stay awesome, babe 👏👏😉💚💛

Hiii <333 you’re so cute. Well, I don’t want to say much but you’re getting your Isak/Eva fix soon :p. 

haha. Writing Isak/Vilde was my favorite thing to do honestly. I had so much fun writing their dynamic and I was so happy to see that other authors and gif makers picked it up afterwards haha. Writing I’m Not In Love was an experience and I can’t believe I finished it in less than 2 weeks lol. I’m going to try to do the same with the next verse. *hugssss* ilyyy

Poor Yurio can’t catch a break, even over long distance video calls (Viktor you act oblivious but we all know otherwise)

2

Idk why but I had this idea of Lance leaving the others because of a misunderstanding that he was going to be kicked out of the group (esp after Shiro comes back and Matt joins the group) because he doesn’t contribute as much and then somehow he runs away and ends up finding an extra lion www.

So then they start looking for Lance, but it takes them a while then shit happens so Matt has to take over as the Blue Paladin cuz they needed to join up. So like after weeks of Lance being gone, they encounter this dude with.. guess what A WHITE LION, stealing stuff and terrorizing civilians. And then they fight, and then they discover it’s Lance!!! BUT Lance is being manipulated/controlled by the White Lion, but no one wants to fight him. But Lance is being difficult so Keith attacks first and then battle ensues and Lance escapes and they’re all really surprised cuz he’s hard to beat.

So everyone’s all confused and sad and angry and mostly confused. Then they encounter Lance again but this time Lance is like more angry at them because the evil lion has been telling him how much they never respected him or took him seriously, so that got him to start hating them.

Meanwhile Allura and Coran are trying to look for info in the archives of any evil lion or something, and they found an archive not of an evil lion but a missing lion. Turns out this White Lion was missing for years and it was lost in battle with its pilot. What they didn’t know was that its pilot got corrupt and in turn the White Lion somehow became corrupted as well. So they realise it’s affecting Lance too and they try to help him.

Then more stuff happens and they managed to get Lance and the White Lion back to normal and… Yeah, I don’t know what happens LOL.

This is just a silly doodle/idea thing, so pls don’t take it too seriously. ;7;’
(I also had the idea that maybe for the White Lion the colours are inverted idk.)

8

                                  “Okay, should we get some coffee? Sure. Where?”
Chandler and Monica walk over to the kitchen-counter and leave their keys. Then the other four pick out their keys and leave them as well. They all leave the apartment. Joey helps Chandler with the stroller in the hallway, while Monica and Rachel have their arms around each other. Everybody walks downstairs to Central Perk. The camera goes inside the apartment again, and it pans around. We see the keys on the counter, and the final shot is of the frame around the peephole. The screen fades to black. (Friends, 1994 – 2004)

maybe… we should leave the future alone. i have been thinking a lot about why christmas feels empty even though i love the holiday. why i can’t quite get it right, even with planning and careful presents and genuine love. why the new year came to us filled in fire.

i think we build it up too much. spend two months planning out perfection instead of waking up surprised on christmas morning. i wonder if that’s what made our holidays better when we were children - we had so few to look back on that we just hoped for the best and were always blown away by the smallest things. not having school was good enough back then. 

be gentle to 2017. let it make itself as good as it wants to be, because we put too much pressure on 2016 to be perfect. 2017 won’t be. 

plan for the worst and hope for the best and maybe, if we’re all very lucky, we might just survive this.

When you fall in love with people,
You make homes out of them,
You leave bits and pieces of yourself there and it becomes a part of who they are and this pretty much explains why I feel empty and lost.
For all of my life,
I had my walls built so high that no one managed to climb it, but I fell for you and suddenly your existence became my walls.
I’m forsaken and sad but i’m not scared to be.
I learned the hard way that eventually everything will pass,

And regardless of how logical this sounds,
Or how it is supposed to make my heart hurt less,
It doesn’t.
I don’t want to spend these lonely nights knowing I still have demons to face.

So..

Give me something,
for the lonely hours..
Give me time,
so I’d learn how to love the regret..
Aren’t we all dying in spent breaths after all?
Aren’t we all broken by our own beliefs?
Betrayals?
The homes we left?
The ghosts we became?
And the demons we destroyed?

But for some reason,
Being with you felt like a better version of being alone and I thought we were eternity.
My thoughts are depressing,
But don’t I make you want to live?
Things were pretty much smooth and easy before me,
But were they beautiful?
We had an obsession with matching tattoos,
And now we have a matching hole inside our heart and soul.
Despite the tornadoes that raged on and the deafening silence we shared,
Us, this, will echo in our heads like a broken record.

My god,
I feel this numbness wrecking all my feelings,
emptying me and turning me cold.
I’m sorry,
I’m hard to understand..
I’m sorry,
I don’t talk..
I’m sorry,
I let you go..
But you weren’t supposed to make me want to kill myself.

10

Let him be everything because he is everything.

insp

I thought I was a terrible gardener. I had transplanted these greens from the roadside to a pot (okay, I had uprooted them) and they kept dying. Or I thought they kept dying. Every week, leaves would begin to yellow and break off. I threw in banana peels and matchboxes (soil aid) and yet, a leaf or two would always begin to yellow and fall off. Turns out, from what I’ve observed, the stem can only bear 2-3 leaves at a time. So, a leaf must always die for the new to come in. 

We are often so cautious and comfortable with the familiar that we have difficulty focusing and believing in new possibilities. The fear of letting go battles with the inevitablity of change. I had spent so much energy focused on the dying leaves that I almost lost sight of the new ones coming in. Perhaps you should let go. -Yagazie Emezi

https://www.instagram.com/yagazieemezi/

Warm Enough

So excited I had a few moments to bang this out for you today!
Enjoy! xoxo-Sarah


Request: Could you do a Sherlock × reader, where you don’t wear enough layers for some reason, and your get really cold, and Sherlock notices?

It was cold down by the water’s edge, colder than you’d anticipated. Although, even if someone had told you how chilly you would be, it’s not like Sherlock or John gave you much of a chance to dress for the elements. They were both up and dashing out of the flat as soon as they’d gotten Lestrade’s call, leaving you time only to grab your car keys and throw on a light jacket as you hurried after them.

Keep reading

I looked from my laptop up as my sister Angie came into my room.

“Hey Zack, what’s up?” she said

“Hey sis. I just heard from Stephanie. She has too much work to do this weekend, and she can’t make it back.” Our older sister was in college and had been planning to come back for the three day weekend that now stretched out before us.

“That sucks. So are mom and dad at that conference?”

“No, they are out for tonight, back in the morning. Then they leave for it tomorrow morning, and will be gone until Monday night.”

“So, more or less, the house to ourselves for the entire weekend?”

“Yep.” I said with a grin. The two of us had always been really close, and we were looking forward to a relaxing weekend with just each other. My little sister returned my grin and her eyes lit up. She was two years younger than me, but was always more mischievous than I.

“Dinner?” she asked

“Leftovers”

She shrugged and left my room. It was early still, and I returned to finishing my homework on my laptop. It was Friday and I wanted to be done for the weekend.

***

Later that night, having finished dinner, Angie and I were sitting on the couch, watching a movie. She was curled up against me, with my arm draped over her. As the movie ended, I switched the TV and looked and my baby sister. Her face was furrowed and she looked like she was considering something serious.

“What’s up sis?” I asked. She looked up at me.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“Anything”

“It’s kind of awkward and personal”

“Anything you ever want to talk about, I will be here for you Angie” I said. I squeezed her tighter with one arm and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Thanks Zack, I know. Are you a virgin?”

I flushed a bit, but answered truthfully

“Yes. And I assume you are as well” I knew my sister well enough that she would tell me why she asked without prompting.

“Yes, I am. Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked as a blush rose to her cheeks and she turned away.

Rather than respond immediately, with the obvious ‘yes’ I looked as my little sister as a woman, not a girl, taking in her features. She was tall, about 5’10” and thin. She had an incredibly toned and trimmed body from the years and years of gymnastics that she was so found of. Rich chocolate brown hair that cascaded midway down her back. Small breasts, no larger than an A cup, but they sat perfectly on her petite frame that any larger would have looked absurd.

“I think you are beautiful” I replied, and I genuinely meant it. Angie’s eyes lit up, and she could tell my compliment was honest. I pulled her closer to me and planted a kiss on her forehead. She returned my embrace and beamed up at me. Then the smile faded into a look of unease. I could tell she was trying to work her way around to telling me why she asked about my history with women.

“I asked because I figured … well … we know each other really well … and we love each other a lot … and … we are both virgins … and alone … and well…” Her face flushed and she turned away from me, embarrassed.

I looked at my little sister, my mind jumbled, my body fighting for the blood my brain needed to make decisions. A squeezed her closer and brought my left hand around to her chin. I forced her face to turn back to mine, and saw tears of embarrassment shining in her eyes. I planted a kiss full on her lips, the first time I had kissed a girl in all my years. After the longest thirty seconds of my life, we broke apart and caught our breath. We looked into each other’s eyes, and I asked her,

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely. Do you, Zack?”

“Yes, Angie, I really do.”

“I love you, big brother.”

“I love you, little sister.”

Our lips locked again, and I could see many of my emotions reflected in my baby sister’s eyes. Lust warred with love, each seeking to blot out the other. Our lips parted and my tongue slipped into her mouth, as hers slipped into mine.

I rolled her over, and sat my sister on my lap. Our lips met again, and my hands wandered over her tight back. I pulled her closer to me, out chests meeting and our kiss never breaking. She started to shift her hips back and forth in my lap. Her small breasts rubbed against my chest and my cock started to harden with the constant motion. I shifted one hand down, to grip her tight ass, and the other up to her chest to cup one of her lovely tits. Her hands wandered over my chest and out tongues stilled warred in each other’s mouths.

Our kiss broke, and Angie shifted back slightly on my lap. We were both breathless, and for a moment, the only noise in the room was our breathing.

“That was my first kiss, sis” I said, and she giggled at me.

“Mine too” she said still smiling. There was a long pause before she asked, “Do you want to go further?”

In answer I grabbed her and she squealed with delight as I pulled her back to my lips. Her hands found my chest again, and then started to go lower. She found the hem of my shirt, and began to pull it up. I felt a tingle as the cool air rushed over my warm skin. She pulled the shirt higher and higher, and finally we were forced to break off our kiss as the shirt passed over my head. As soon as it was on the floor, we kissed again.

Then slowly, my hands came around to her firm hips. I grabbed the shirt and raised it up slowly. Our kiss broke again, and I pulled off her shirt and threw it on the floor. I looked at my sister, sitting on my lap, our skin touching. Her skin was pale, as was mine, and against that white background, the rainbow striped bra on her chest looked even more vibrant. It was about a 32-34 A, and seemed to delight in cling to such nubile curves. We resumed our passionate kissing, and she resumed grinding her crotch into mine.

After a few more minutes of this, I stopped her and pried my sister off of me. She looked confused for a moment, but when she saw the grin of desire on my face, lust overtook her. I stood her up in front of me, and reached for the belt around her waist. I unfastened it, and reached for the button on her jeans. I undid it, and drew down the zipper, the hooked my fingers under the waist band of her pants. In one fluid motion, I dropped the pants to the ground, and as she stepped out of them, I looked at her sky blue panties. Under my gaze, she squirmed a bit, and flushed embarrassed.

“Stand up, bro. It’s not fair that you’re wearing pants.” She whined playfully.

I stood, and her hands were at my waist, undoing my belt, as her lips found mine again. She reached for the zipper on my pants, and the next thing I knew, my pants were around my ankles. I stepped out of them, and fell back onto the couch, grabbing Angie as I went. She sat, straddling me, as we kissed again. We looked at one another, and nervous laughter rose in our throats. She resumed grinding our crotches together, but this time, but with only her sky blue panties and my red boxers on, the feeling was much more intense. My cock was rock hard at this point, and only the weight of my baby sister was holding it down. She was also getting into it, I realized, as I saw a damp spot growing on her panties. I kissed her again and again, one hand around the tight muscles of her ass, and the other around her back, snaking up to the back of her head, holding her close to me.

I looked down, breaking off our kiss, and looked at our bodies. Angie had on only her sky blue panties and rainbow striped bra, and I with only red boxers. Our flesh gleamed with sweat and her body, sculpted from almost a decade of gymnastics, was taut and perfect. She started pushing our bodies together faster and harder, and my cock started rubbing against her pussy.

At the same time, completely independent of each other, our hands started to reach towards our lap. Mine trailed down her chest, her taut stomach, and came to rest just on the elastic band that held her underwear up. Her hand did the same thing to my body. She raised her hips, and I slowly inched my fingers down on to her sweat mound, feeling the fabric under my touch, and beneath that, my sister’s warm wetness. Her hand traced its way over my boxers to the base of my straining erection.

She began to stroke my cock through my boxers, as I began to run my hand over her pussy. The friction of her hand and my boxers on my dick sent a wave of pleasure through my body. I rubbed her faster and faster, and in response she stroked me faster still. Our hips ground together, our hands rubbed at the others genitals and we saw bliss reflected in each other’s eyes. Her wet spot grew larger and she began to moan, softly at first, then louder as I groaned at my need for release.

Angie’s breathing got faster and faster and I could feel her trembling. I could also feel my own orgasm getting closer. All at once, we both stiffened and moaned. We both orgasmed in our underwear and collapsed on to the couch. We lay there for the span of several long, shuttering breaths, my sister’s lithe body draped over my larger one, her face pressed against my shoulder. Finally reality reasserted itself, and I looked over at her.

“Well…” Angie said, before we both burst into laughter. We laughed long and loud, uncontrollably, until we were both gasping for air. We were not laughing at anything, but we could not stop.

Our merriment finally subsided and we looked back at each other. I could feel a contented smile on my face, and it was reflected on my baby sister’s.

“That felt amazing, Zack.” She sighed, contentedly.

“You too, Angie.” I replied, giving her a squeeze. She giggled and writhed on my lap, rubbing our sodden underwear together. We both looked down and laughed again.

“Shower?” I asked.

“Together.” She responded. “Just let me get my breath back.”

We sat there for another few minutes, until Angie rolled off of me, and we stood up. We gathered our clothes, and I chased her up stairs to the bathroom we shared. We turned the water on, and as it heated up, started kissing again. Our mouths joined together, and we embraced tightly.

My hands roamed across her back, and found the hooks of her rainbow bra. I unclasped them, and peeled off the garment. Then I got my first real look at my sister’s naked breasts. They were small, but perky and sat perfectly on her slight body. I let my hands wander lower and lower until I felt her small tight ass. I slipped two fingers under the elastic band of her sky blue panties and slid them around to her hips. All at once, I jerked my hands down, carrying her underwear with them. I beheld her virgin pussy for the first time in my life. She was unshaven, and the coarse brown hair stood out in contrast to her perfectly smooth legs.

She blushed and turned away from me, allowing me a perfect view of her perfect, tiny ass. I drew her close to me and planted a kiss on the top of her head. I could see her smile and feel her relax and she turned back around and reached down. Her hands gripped the waistband of my boxers and eased them down. My erection was now back in full swing, and popped out. I was also unshaven. It was the first time I had ever been exposed to someone in a sexual manner. We stepped out of the clothes around our ankles, and kissed again.

My sister and I drew back the shower curtain and slipped inside. The warm water and close confines made me feel as though my head was in a fog. We started washing each other all over. My hands, lathered with soapy water, found their way around her back and came to rest on her petite breasts. I savored the experience, my first real skin to skin sexual contact with her, as I began to massage her boobs. Angie started to whimper slightly, and then as I tweaked her tiny nipples, she let out a moan.

I left off and snaked my hands down lower and lower. I ran my hands over her tight legs, higher and higher. Her lean calves, her firm thighs, and then above that, the golden territory, all covered with soap and water. A thought crossed my mind and I rested my hand on her bush, and asked

“Why shave your legs, and not up here?”

“Because,” her response was bashful, “I was afraid it would hurt if I slipped.”

“Do you want me to help you?”

“Yes. But not right now. You got me wound up, and I need release.”

I grinned and slid my right hand over her mound as my left worked its way back to her tits. There was wetness there that had nothing to do with the shower. I began to stroke my middle finger up and down her slit, and my index and ring finger along the outside of her pussy. My left hand was massaging her breast and my right spread her lips wide open. She moaned her desire and I plunged my middle finger deep into my baby sister’s pussy. The gasped and shudder at the sudden intrusion, and cried out three words

“Oh God Yes!”

I started to work the top of her pussy with my thumb, and began to thrust my middle finger in and out of her sweat confines. She was incredibly warm, tight, and wet. It felt like my finger was being sucked in on every pump. Angie moaned louder and louder, and I thrust faster and faster. Her arms wrapped around my right arm, and her hand went down to cover mine, forcing me deeper into her. I tweaked her nipple and thrust deep into her. All at once, she seized up and froze completely, her muscles locking, and I would have sworn she even stopped breathing for a second.

My sister would have collapsed onto the floor if my arms had not been wrapped around her. She hung like a rag doll in my arms for several minutes, getting her breath back, her ass still pressed to my straining erection. She finally turned to me and, planting a kiss on my lips, moaned,

“Thank you. That was amazing.”

I grinned at her, and she tiredly returned the expression. We continued washing for a few minutes, until I found myself facing the showerhead, Angie behind me. She unexpectedly grabbed me in an embrace, and whispered in my ear,

“Your turn big bro.”

Her breasts were pressed to my back and her arms were around my chest. Her soapy hands slid down to my cock and delicately traced over my pubic hair.

“I like you like this. Don’t shave it.” I could hear the grin in her voice. I grinned back and shook my head.

“Anything for you, little sis.”

She kissed my neck and grasped my dick with her warm, wet, slippery hand. She slid her hand up and down my shaft, while sliding her other hand over my chest. Her small hands pumped me again and again, until I was right on the verge. Then she slid her other hand down and grabbed my balls. It was too much for me, and I came all over the front of the shower.

I turned around and kissed my sister again and again, each kiss deeper and more passionate than the last. We finished up in the shower and stepped out. Looking at the clock, we realized with a start that our parents would be home soon. We quickly went into Angie’s room and she bent over to rummage through her dresser for something to ware. I did not help the process by taking that opportunity to grab and start massaging her firm ass. She playfully slapped my hands away and threw on some pajamas. We went to my room and repeated the process, but in reverse.

“So, I am looking forward to a fun weekend.” She said.

“Me too.” I grinned “Just the two of us from Saturday afternoon to Monday night.”

“I think we are going to have a lot of fun.”

“Me too.”

“I love you, Zack.”

“I love you, Angie.”

“Was it worth it?” He asked

She was in so much pain. Her heart was beating so hard she felt like her ears were ringing with the sound. She had cried herself to sleep for so many nights, the impression her nails made on the pillow would never leave, the muffled sounds of her sobs would forever remain embedded in her memory; but the thought of not having done it made her sick to her very core. She took a deep breath and truth flowed out of her like the waves of pain she often experienced. “Yeah” she croaked “Even if it were more painful than it already is, I would always choose leaving the man who could never truly love me, at least not in the way I needed him to. I’m sorry if it hurt you too.”

He smiled. The answer that he was dreading had finally been given, and surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much. He pulled up his walls as high as he could, hid his emotions with perfect accuracy and said “Then it’s okay. I’m happy you’re happy.”

Afterall, they were both broken by the same society, the one which so desperately tried to convince them that love would fix everything.

—  Needless to say, it didn’t.

iwa-chan-hajime  asked:

Hey, can I request headcanons for Victor and Yuuri K. as parents? (either together or separate, I leave that up to you)

Oh my god, I had so much fun thinking about this. I hope you enjoy!


Parent! Victor and Yuri Headcanons:

- When they finally decided it’s time to start a family, instead of finding a surrogate, they adopt a little baby boy. His name is some sort of Russian-Japanese culture mix, and he’s totally adorable.

- Despite what you may think, Victor is totally the mom. He’s constantly worried about their kid, despite Yuri’s best efforts to calm his nerves.

- As soon as he old’s enough to walk, they drag their kid out to the rink to teach him to skate, and it’s really cute to see the two young dads holding their child’s hands as he learns how to stand up and move in the skates.

- “Yuri, he needs to hold onto me for support-”

“Victor, no. He’s fine!”

“BUT WHAT IF HE FALLS?”

“He’s not going to fall!”

- One of the things the three like to do is watch cartoons on Saturday morning together, and really it’s just super adorable. Victor gets really immersed in the show with their kid and Yuri looks on really proud and really grateful because he just knows how lucky he is to have the two of them.

- When their kid gets older and starts actually competing in skating, they are absolutely the loudest parents at competitions and constantly being super encouraging and loving. This sometimes annoys the judges, but what can they do? The kid’s parents are two world-class skaters, and their kid definitely will be too.

Originally posted by wakata

Certain As The Sun: Feysand Fic Part 1

In honor of Feysand Smut Week, I am using prompt 4.) Reunion Sex. Trust me, I know I’m waaaay late on starting this.

So here is one of the other stories that you guys voted on! ***WARNING: DOES CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT*** I had a lot of fun writing this one, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Anyways, enjoy! And don’t forget to like, reblog, and leave a comment! This is only part one of maybe two or three, so please be active and let me know if you’d like me to continue it and find out what happens!

Find the other story you all voted for(a Mature Rowaelin Fic) here.

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I paced back and forth, surprised I hadn’t yet worn a path into the floor. Since before dawn I had been awake, alone to deal with all the thoughts racing about in my head thanks to the news that had come from the Summer Court.

I had been sitting in the garden, just opening my first bottle of brandy for the night. It had been foolish of me to do so, but earlier that day I had visited the cabin where Feyre and I had stayed for a bit, grasping at anything that would make me feel close to her even if just for a few moments.

I had taken all but one step into that cabin and seen the eyes she’d painted, the shadowy purples and blues and pearl hues of Velaris at night, seen how she’d been able to capture everything we were with nothing but a few brushes and some paint—and completely lost it.

Everything came back to me in a rush, and I remembered that that was the table I had first fucked her on, that was the pot she had cooked that soup in…the one that had sealed our Mating Bond, that was the bed on which we’d made love. She was everywhere. She had come to this place, having walked into it a stranger and left with every crack and crevice screaming of her presence.

So I returned to Velaris, feeling utterly hopeless with that aching in my chest and I was screaming—roaring down the bond. Waiting for her to respond. Waiting for anything, anything to reassure me that everything that had happened in Hybern had been an act. That she really was still alive, and still loved me as fiercely as I loved her.

I was going to get excessively drunk that night—an activity I usually liked to invite Cassian to join in on, but that night was one for drinking alone— hoping and praying that the alcohol would dull my senses, that it would fight off the nightmares I could feel clawing at the back of my mind. For the first time in a long time, I was scared. Frightened out of my ass that I would lose myself to the terrors that haunted me at night—the ones that had been slowly awakening from their slumber ever since Feyre returned to the Spring Court—and I would lose control and not be able to come back.

And then Tarquin had suddenly appeared, and though I had given him access to Velaris what seemed like moons ago but had truly only been no more than a few months, he startled me in a way I never allowed myself to be.

His face told me all I needed to know. Something serious had happened.

I only smiled grimly and motioned to a chair, another glass appearing on the small table. “You may as well get comfortable.” And then he’d gone on to tell me of things that I’d already known, things I hadn’t, and things I wished I had never heard and could erase from my memory.

A soft knock sounded, and moments later Azriel entered. He took one look at me and only said softly, “Rhysand.” It was a question I didn’t have a solid answer to, so I only shook my head and ordered him to sit. “Something’s happened.” I nodded. Azriel seemed to steel himself, his jaw setting and eyes hardening before he encouraged me to go on. Once I had told him everything, he merely asked, “So when will you tell the others? Do you wish for me to inform them of this?”

“I plan to inform them only of what I have deemed absolutely necessary for them to know. But I do not want you to tell anyone of this, Az. Not even Mor.” He scowled, but didn’t protest. He know I was right; If there was any one thing in this world that was his weakness, it was my cousin. Even if he refused to acknowledge it.

“When will you tell them?” The Illyrian warrior sat back in his chair, seeming to understand the gravity of the situation at hand.

My thumb and forefinger rubbed absently across my lips before I murmured, “Soon.”

There was another knock on the door, and I muttered for the rest of the Inner Circle to enter. They were all unusually quiet, even Cassian who was always known for cracking some joke or other. But they joined me, taking their seats around the table.

Almost in unison, the five members of the Night Court looked at the unoccupied sixth chair, the chair directly to my right. I looked at each of my friends in turn; one visibly shaking in anger, one staring somberly at the empty spot, one wearing a grim expression, and one wearing no expression at all.

Mor was the first to speak. “Have you heard from her?”

She needn’t specify whom she was referring to. Feyre had been absent from the Night Court for nearly eight months now. In all that time, I nearly never heard from her. Sometimes there would be whispers, or she’d send me a fleeting image of herself while I slept. Sometimes they’d be ones of her reading, other times they’d be ones that sent my blood roaring through my veins and had me wide awake for the remainder of the night.

But whenever I attempted to contact her, I got nothing. No matter how much I screamed I was met with nothing but silence. She wasn’t blocking me; I knew what that was like. If she was blocking my advances, I’d feel that steel wall of adamant she preferred to use. I used to receive it with a mixture of pride and frustration, but now it only made me worry. And now, I’d much rather be met with that impenetrable wall than the empty void I was now left to deal with. It was like I was standing on one end of a dark tunnel, screaming into a darkness that was never ending.

I knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself, knew that she must be unharmed because if she was I was certain I would have felt it and would have rushed to that great, gaudy castle like a bat out of hell, High Lord of the Spring Court be damned.

“No.” The word rang throughout the room, echoing off the walls and filling me with a sudden, desperate need to be beside her. “But that’s not what we’re gathered to discuss. Feyre is fine, I am sure of it.”

“Yes,” Amren cut in softly. “Feyre spent years single-handedly caring for not only herself, but for her entire family.” She paused, making eye contact with each of us as she said, “I’m sure our High Lady is able to look after herself for a while.”

“Damn right she is,” Cassian heartily agreed, but sighed. “Still, I miss her all the same. She was the only one who recognized true beauty when she saw it.”

A devilish smirk graced my lips. “Thank you for the compliment, Cassian, but I believe we have more important matters to discuss.” The Illyrian warrior only glared, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Speaking of which…Why, exactly, are we here?”

I smiled “Can’t I just have wanted to see all of you?”

Mor snorted, waving a hand of dismissal. “Oh, please. Cut the shit.”

“We are here, my dear cousin, because there’s been word on some new…developments regarding Jurian and the King of Hybern.”

“Finally,” Mor exclaimed, excitement glittering in her eyes. “Go ahead and sign me up. As lovely as it is has been being stuck in this city with all of you, I’m dying to get out of this damned house.”

“Now before you jump on the bandwagon, Mor, it goes without saying that this will be extremely dangerous. Any spies who’ve dared travel into the Sarguin lands has never been seen or heard of again.”

“Not to mention,” Amren drawled, filing away at her nails so that they became wicked sharp points, “We’ve all got death warrants sitting on our heads from some of the most powerful people in Prythian.”

Mor only grinned, “Then it’s a good thing we’re not going as spies,” she said. “Isn’t that right, Rhysand?”

I only nodded. Mor was too damn clever for her own good.“I need all of you,” I continued, “If you’re up for it, that is.”

“Well I, for one, am offended you’d even think I’d say no.” Cassian placed a fist over his chest. “I will do all I can to help, or die trying.”

“For Feyre,” Mor agreed, placing a fist to her heart. I could have sworn there was a slight bobble in her throat as she swallowed.

“For our High Lady.”

I noticed the change in the room moments before I heard, “Are you talking shit again, Cassian?”

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As one our heads whipped towards the open balcony. For what seemed like an eternity we all just sat there, barely breathing and not believing what was before us.

Feyre stood on the balcony, dressed in a peach colored dress with elegant rose-gold embroidery—typical Spring Court fashion. Her hair was swept back with snow white pearls and beads, a diamond necklace winking at her throat. All of it was utterly ridiculous to be wearing in the middle of the afternoon, and she looked more like she was about to hold court than just be walking about, but—

She was smiling, and it appeared that she had not been missing meals as she had been when she had first been at the Spring Court. Her skin held a healthy glow to it, her posture showing not even a whisper of neither defeat nor sadness.

And her eyes.

Cauldron damn me, tears ran down her cheeks as Mor ran to her, crushing her in a hug. They clutched each other, Feyre’s face buried in Mor’s shoulder as if she herself couldn’t believe she was really here. And then my cousin must have said something amusing, for Feyre laughed, sniffling before turning to the rest of them.

They all hugged and greeted her, Cassian probably saying something that was more than mildly inappropriate, but I could hear nothing over the roaring in my ears. My blood raced through my veins, and I wasn’t sure I was breathing at all as she at last turned to me.

A lie.

This was all a cruel, impossible lie. She wasn’t here, she couldn’t be here in Velaris, in the Night Court and so close that I could close the distance between us in half a breath before I would be in her arms.

But then I felt a tender caressing down the bond, my senses awakening as if they’d been asleep all this time and I was just now realizing it. And everything was screaming that this was my mate—my mate. My Feyre. She was here. And I was here and—

Rhys,” she breathed.

And I shattered.

A broken gasp expelled from my lips and then she was there, right in front of me. Feyre was so close that our breaths mingled, and all I could do was stare at her.

Her hand reached up, cupping my cheek. I leaned into her touch almost instinctively, clutching her hand. I was absolutely certain that if I were to let go for even a split second she would disappear again and I’d never hear from her just as I hadn’t these past eight months.

I swallowed, “Feyre.” The room was utterly still and quiet, perhaps because the rest of the Inner Circle had made a sudden yet gracious disappearance. “Feyre,” I said again because I wasn’t quite believing this.

“Yes,” she nodded, swallowing. “I’m here.”

“I can’t believe it. Tamlin would never…Why—How—?

She stiffened almost imperceptibly at the name, a gesture that would have gone unnoticed by anyone else. “Tamlin doesn’t know. He and Lucien left a few days ago to meet with the King of Hybern and refused to take me with them.”

It didn’t surprise me. Tamlin, the stubborn bastard, would never change his ways. It seemed he still thought of Feyre as a precious, porcelain doll, the typical damsel in distress that couldn’t handle anything other than hosting parties and bearing children. The thought had my jaw clenching in anger.

Feyre gently squeezed my hand, pulling me from that dark place I was close to entering.

“And they haven’t hurt you? You’re truly okay?” I had to know. Eight months without hearing anything from her had me slowly losing my mind. What if something had happened and I didn’t know?

She nodded. “I had to refrain from communicating with you, Rhysand because…Because there are things that I’ve had to do that I would never want you to see or know about.” Feyre swallowed, tearing her gaze from mine as if ashamed.

I had a very good guess as to some of the things she had to do to keep up the facade that she was still infatuated with the High Asshole of the Spring Court, and I couldn’t deny that the images that flashed in my mind made me want to go find him and play with his mind until he’d need that lapdog Lucien of his to wipe his ass for him, but I could see that Feyre was upset. I could tell that despite knowing that what she was doing was invaluable to the future of Prythian, she felt disgusted at herself for having done these things.

So I pulled her closer, my fingers gently tipping her chin up to meet my eyes. “Feyre, there is not a thing in this world that would ever tempt me to think of you differently. What you have done, what you have to do…believe me, I understand it all.” A tear raced down her cheek, but she kept her gaze on me. “And if I could take your place I would. In less than a heartbeat, I swear I would.”

My thumb gently wiped the tear away, though it was quickly followed by another. “I’m sorry,” she softly apologized.

I shook my head. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” And just because i couldn’t stand to see her cry I added, “Although, if there is anything you should be apologizing for, it’s those naughty little images you tended to enjoy sending in the middle of the night.”

Feyre laughed, a full, head-tilted back laugh that filled both the room and my soul while taking my breathe away. “Are you saying you didn’t enjoy them?” She lifted an arched brow. The question was a territory I’d have to tread lightly on as although there was amusement lighting up her eyes, there was a much darker emotion hiding in them as well.

My arms circled around her waist, trapping her so that she was nearly flush against my body. I lowered my lips to her neck, breath fanning over her skin before reaching her ear. “Oh, I very much enjoyed them. Would you like to know why?”

“Enlighten me,” she purred.

“It’s because, Feyre, darling, I got to make up a bit of a list every time you sent me one of those images. A list of all the things I’d do to you once you returned as retribution.”

“Oh really?”

“If my memory serves me correctly,” I purred, my grip on her tightening, “I promised that  the next time we had a moment to ourselves, I’d fuck you.”

I pulled back, meeting her eyes. All trace of amusement had vanished, leaving behind only lust. A corner of her lips lifted slightly and I braced myself before she said, “I believe there was mention of a wall.”

I was a breath away from replying with an equally venereal retort when a thunderous BOOM! sounded, so loud I could have sworn the walls shook.

Immediately, one name came to mind.

Tamlin.

76 hours (Miraculous: tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir)


I’m sorry but I had so much of these two inside of me that I had to write something. Sorry of they seem ooc. I opted for them to be a little older. The art is absolutely NOT mine. I found it on Google. Credits to the artist
@andy-quick

edit: with the help of a friend I found the artist http://www.deviantart.com/art/Coucher-Du-Soleil-573695192 and if you see through her comments she says you don’t have to ask for permission to repost her art. I added her link, therefore the source. I’m sorry for the inconvenience that happened before.

When Andrien hears his father yelling profanities at him on dinner that night he decides he’s out of excuses. He has 76 hours to pack his things before his flight for Boston leaves. There are things he’s yet to do, things he’s yet to say.

Especially to her. Ladybug.

They have been a crime-fighting couple since he was fifteen. She’s his first and as he comes to the conclusion his eternal love. He knows her identity. He figured a year ago, when he watched her getting home. After that, it was all clear. Marinette never did anything to hide her identity. The way her eyes shone, the way her lips crooked everytime she smiled, when she was Ladybug she was only too dazzling for everyone to see.
He should have figured earlier, he thinks as he lays on his king sized bed. If he had, they’d have more time to be together. But now they only have some hours.

After some moments of intense thinking he calls Plagg as to wake him from his slumber and transforms. He sets the alarm of immediate emergency and arranges to meet her on an alley. Where no one can see them.

The moment she lands before him, his heart throbs. He gulps, hard, and air now seems to vanish. He has to breath, in and out with closed eyes.

Marinette doesn’t fail to see his incapability to breath.
“Cat Noir? Are you okay?” She asks, unbeknownst of the answer she’s about to receive.

Andrien watches her as she comes closer. The dim light of the alley reflects on her features in the best possible way and makes her midnight black hair shine a little brighter. He can’t help but notice it has grown, a hell lot more from the time they were fifteen. It reaches just above her lower back, it’s visibly sweaty, maybe because he had called in an emergency and she had to rush. She has to slip it behind her ear with two delicate fingers and it drives him crazy.

“No” he coldly answers. “And i haven’t been okay in a very long time. Ever since I met you actually.”

Her eyes widen as horrid thoughts run through her mind. She wonders if her ever wanted this at all. She blames herself for falling for him and giving up her stupid crush on Andrien. For a moment she thinks he hates her and for another that he’s a spy, set by Hawk Moth in order to kill her. She closes her eyes and shakes in terror as Cat Noir approaches her. He’s huge, he’s always been taller than her, but now he’s actually huge and very muscled and she knows she can’t possibly defeat him.

Andrien sighs again and takes her delicate hands in his. ‘Five words’ he thinks. And then he’s finally over.

“I’m in love with you”

Marinette opens her eyes and blinks a couple of times. He’s not doing this, he’s not saying this.. he can’t be.

Before she gets a chance to speak she sees him pulling his ring off his finger. Her eyes widen again and she goes to cover them before he grabs her wrists and shakes his head in disapproval. Green light reflects on her from he’s re-transformation and when everything is lit by the dim lights of Paris’s streets her eyes widen in shock.

“A-adrien?” She whispers. ‘oh my God’ she mutters under her breath.
He doesn’t dare to speak. He only stares at her and how beautiful she looks as she slowly rejects him. He can remember a time when Marinette would lose her words when around him, but now, they’re both young adults. They’ve grown up so much from then.
“Say something..” he begs. But Marinette stays silent, still feeling herself being torn inside on whether to tell him or not.
His hand reached to cup her face and she thinks it’s the ultimate mistake that she leans in. She’s afraid, too afraid. As if she’s fifteen again.

“For God’s sake Marinette! I know it’s you just say something.” He yells everything except her name and heads to grab her miraculous away from her ear. Instantly she re-transforms with a scream.

How did he even know who she was?

That’s what she asks him at least.

“I followed you once. I know we promised not to do anything like that but Marinette, I had to. I…” he stops as he sees her breaking down on her knees with her hair covering her face.
She’s crying. It’s his fault she’s crying.

“Marinette? ”

“No! Just tell me for how long you’ve known.”

“A year now. I’m sorry Marinette.”

“Were you disappointed when you found out?” She whispers as her blue eyes stare deep in his. Andrien couldn’t know, but Marinette had stopped being confident about her self a while ago.

“What? Why?” His green eyes widen too as he lovingly stares at her. “Marinette I could never be disappointed at you. I love you!”

Marinette feels the urge to run away. This is a sick game she says to herself. She needs to walk away before she gets more hurt. So she gets up with her back completely turned to him and walks away, only to come to ask for her miraculous. He gives it to her without a single word but that weird feeling inside him makes him grab her by her wrist and turn her around.

His heart starts beating fast now that they were so close and he breaths heavy. He’s giving in to her magnificent scent and before he realises it, his chapped lips are on hers. He takes her face in his big palms and pushes her close to him to deepen the kiss.

He’s desperate, he can feel she’s too. But they won’t pull back for air.

Andrien, because he knows he doesn’t have much time, and Marinette because she doesn’t want this to end.

But it ends and she settles on resting her forehead against Andrien’s. She worries his back hurts, because he’s leaning on her but she won’t speak a word.
__

Somehow they end on top of the Eiffel tower, staring at the perfectly lit city. It’s the first time they feel so blessed to live in the most romantic city of the world.

Marinette leans her head on Andrien’s shoulder as her hair flows with the wind.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you this” he said as he wraps his hand behind her back to keep her warm. Marinette just hums in response while getting lost inside his tight embrace.

“I’m leaving in some hours. My father sends me abroad for studies” he sighs. He’s hurt he has to do this. He doesn’t want to say goodbye.

She mutters a soft ‘where’ and feels her whole world tumbling down when he announces he’s going in Boston. This can’t be happening to her. She just got to have him in her embrace.

“How much time do we have Andrien?” She asks with watering eyes that the blonde male makes sure to wipe with his leather covered thumb.

“Seventy hours.”

In any other case three days pass torturously slow, but now.

“So please if you want me to stay I will. I will do this for you Marinette. I dont care if my father hates me, I’ll -” she cuts him off with a kiss. As the sucker he is Andrien stops and waits to listen to her. She ways seems to have the right solution to everything.

“You have to go Andrien. I’m not keeping you back”

He growls and snaps his head away from her in anger. Maybe she doesn’t want this as much as he does.
But her fingers find his chin and slowly she drags his head back to face her.

“Then come with me!”

“I can’t. I have to stay here and protect Paris as you’re away. I know that if I had confessed to you back then, then maybe we’d have more time. But now? It’s impossible for us. Maybe in another life Andrien. In a time were not hunting down evils guys that posses butterflies with dark magic. Maybe when you get back. Or never, maybe. Whatever it is though, I’m here. I’ll wait for you.”

Andrien just nods and with a last kiss hes gone. He hates to listen to her voice crack while she talks, she hates the tears that stain her eyes. He collapses on his bed once again and takes his ring off once again. This time he throws it in the darkest corner of his room. Screaming he is done.

He’s done with this. He’s done with fucking everything.