stomach pillow

okay but james and sirius literally lived together (outside of hogwarts ofc) in the potters’ house while they were sixteen and. there are just some things i need to know

did they stay up late at night talking on james’s bed, lying on their stomachs with their pillows bunched in their arms? did they have midnight runs down to the kitchen when they were hungry, resulting in mr. and mrs. potter finding them baking at 2 am? did sirius turn into padfoot and lie with his head on james’s stomach while james read before going to sleep? did they play quidditch together in the backyard until mrs. potter was literally threatening to hex them if they didnt get their arses inside for lunch right this very moment? did they ever go to the woods near james’s house and turn into padfoot and prongs and chase each other around for hours, returning home with twigs in their hair and breathless? did they have 2 sinks in the bathroom, stand next to each other and talk while they brushed up, laughing through mouths full of toothpaste? did they take turns sending letters to remus and lily with james’s owl? did sirius borrow james’s books and annotate them as he read, leaving little notes for james to see when he reread them? these are the kind of questions i need answers to @ jk rowling



You let out a groan, slowly turning your head to glare at Harry who had just playfully spanked your butt. “Babe.. stop.” you whined.

You’d be feeling ill that past few weeks and were currently laying in bed on your stomach, clutching the pillow underneath as you tried to take a nap. Harry, however, kept ruining those plans.

“Aw, I know yeh feel like shit love. But yeh need to take your medicine. Doctor’s orders!”

Shaking your head, you buried your face into the pillow. “Don’t wanna.”

Harry smacked your butt lightly again. “No can do, love. Promised your mum that I’d take care of you and I intend to keep that promise.”

You felt around behind you for him, your hand smacking at his stomach and arms. He let out a low chuckle as he grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and laid down next to you. He brought your interlaced hands to his mouth and gave kisses to each of your fingers while his other hand rubbed your back.

“Can I at least take a nap before I take my medicine?” you asked softly.

Harry felt his heart burst at the sight of you being so soft and vulnerable. He nodded his head and wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you in closer to him. “Course you can, my sick baby. C’mere.”

You snuggled into his body, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck and pressed a kiss there as well. “Love you my little nurse. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You’re welcome lovebug. I’ll always take care of you. In more ways than one.”


Just a little something because I’m currently suffering from bronchitis and I really want Harry here to make me feel better. Hope you liked it! I’ll be dabbling in some more writing again because I finished my first semester of college and I’m on break now! So expect to see some more blurbs and imagines soon! :)

I Want You Here With Me (Like How I Pictured It)

Summary: 2009!Dan is so anxious for his first Skype call with Phil, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. But as it gets closer and closer to their scheduled time, Phil is still nowhere to be found. How does Dan handle Phil’s lateness? And will Phil ever show up for the call?

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Fluffy angst

Extra tags: 2009!phan, Skype calls

Warnings: Mild anxiety, but otherwise none

Read on ao3

A/N: After binging on 2009!phan videos (as you do), I suddenly felt inspired to write this short little angsty fic and cranked this out in a few hours! Title is taken from Something Great, one of my favorite One Direction songs. I hope you enjoy!! (Seriously though, don’t tell me Dan wasn’t a nervous wreck during those first few Skype calls) ;)

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Imagine Lestat stuffing his shirt with pillows, then going up to Louis saying that he was ‘Pregnant’
Louis would be so done

BONUS!: Lestat would be all over him, joking about cravings and saying how bad it feels, as Louis is poker-faced

Then Lestat rubs his pillow stomach and says 'touch the baby, Louis, it is yours~’ and it results in a hard punch to the stomach from Louis.

Every Morning

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,370

I hope you like it, but I mean, who doesn’t like a bit of Jungkook fluff, right? 

- Admin Snow

I awoke to Zion. T’s Eat like I have been for the past month and a half ever since my boyfriend, who was currently sleeping on top of me, had changed it. I turned as much as I possibly could with another body lying on top of me and reached behind me for my phone in order to turn off the alarm. Once I had succeeded I fell back into my pillow, placing my hand on the head of the man using my stomach as his own pillow. From the looks of it he was still sound asleep, arms wrapped around my waist. The sun had just begun to rise and its rays were slowly making their way through the blinds. Closing my eyes, I basked in the calming silence for a few seconds before I decided it was time to get up.

“Hey…” I gently played with his dark locks, smooth and straight, between my fingers. He started to move slightly, groaning softly, slowly waking up.

“Get off.” I finally said to him; I couldn’t help the smile reaching my lips, knowing how annoyed he was going to be. Lifting his head, he looked at me through tired dark eyes, scowl present on his face. He had always hated when I had to wake him up for things like this. With a small ‘hmp’ he pulled himself up until his head was no longer on my stomach but instead buried in my neck, snuggling up and getting comfortable.

“Jungkook. Get off, I need to get ready for class.” My arms were wrapped loosely around his bare waist. I began to drum a random beat with my fingers onto his skin. I knew my actions were speaking the exact opposite of what my voice was, but that’s not my fault, blame him and his comfortable embrace.

“Then don’t go to class.” He sounded, voice deeper than normal due to the sleep lacing it. I rolled my eyes, but the smile on my face never wavered.

“Yeah, sure, and miss the test I have today. Such a good idea. You’re a great boyfriend.” I reached behind my back to start trying to pry his arms from around my waist. He only held on tighter. I huffed and gave up. This was the reason I don’t usually let him sleep over on school nights, because I usually give in and listen to him. But not today. I began to sit up even though his grip didn’t loosen in the slightest.

“Stoooop….I don’t have schedule today. Let’s just spend the day together.” I could feel his lips as they moved on my neck. I fought the urge to give in to his words, as nice as the idea sounded.

“I only have one class today, I go in at 8:30 and get out at 10:00. You can go back to sleep and I’ll be back before you even wake up. We can do whatever you want afterwards.” He groaned rather loudly, in my ear, before giving up and letting go, rolling over and taking the blanket with him. I only rolled my eyes at him, smiling.

“You are such a child.” I said to him as I got off the bed, pulling my tank top back down from where it had risen up sometime during the night. I started walking over to my drawers in order to change clothes, not needing a shower from already taking one before falling to sleep.

“Y/N.” I looked towards Jungkook, his body buried in all the pillows and blankets. He looked at me with sleepy eyes. I opened my mouth to ask what he needed, but he voiced out before I could.

“You got no jams.”

“You did not just say that to me.”

“Yeah man. Infires.”

“I knew it wasn’t a good idea to show you all those memes.”

“VKook is life.” I laughed.

“If that’s how you feel then go sleep in Tae’s bed. Go and bother him instead.” Returning my attention to the open drawer I pulled out two different shirts.

“Nah, your bed is comfier.” I stopped trying to decide on which shirt to wear only to narrow my eyes on him.

“You don’t even sleep on the bed. You sleep on me.” He smiled widely.

“My bad, I meant you’re comfier than hyung’s bed.” I rolled my eyes, shaking my head slightly.

“Help me out would you? The blue or the black?” I raised the two shirts I had been debating on and placed them in his line of vision. He sat up slightly, leaning against his elbows, head against the headboard of the bed.

“What shoes are you wearing?”

“The black Vans.”


“The ones with ripped knees.”

“The ones you wore to the movies last week?”

“Yeah, those.”

“The black shirt. It’s supposed to be cold today, take a sweater.”

"I’m taking your black hoodie.”


This wasn’t something unusual. We would often ask each other’s opinion and input suggestions to help make decisions, even on the most trivial of things. It was something we just did. Stealing his clothes was also something I did.

The outfit of the day finally being decided, I started taking off my tank top and noticed from the corner of my eye Jungkook was still staring, smile plastered on his face. I grabbed the towel from last night’s shower and threw it over this head in one swift movement.

“Perv.” He only laughed and fell back into the bed. I took the chance to change. Once I was done I reached for my makeup bag. I guess he had heard me zipping it open because he raised his head to look at me again.

“What are you doing?” I rummaged through the bag for my mascara and eye liner.

“Putting makeup on, what’s it look like I’m doing?” Even though I couldn’t see him it was like I could hear his scowl.

“Why? Who are you trying to impress?” I stopped what I was doing to give him an incredulous look.

“What are you talking about?” This boy…

“I’m not going to school with you. You don’t need to try and look pretty, you look better without make up anyway.” Does he even know what he just said?

“You’re contradicting yourself.”

“Why are you putting makeup on then?”

My god….

“I’m not having this conversation right now. I’m going to be late.” Jungkook groaned loudly and sat up on the bed, swinging his feet onto the floor. He got up and walked towards my desk and grabbed his white t-shirt from the back of the chair and put it on. Don’t know why he doesn’t just get a clean one, I had a whole drawer filled with his clothes from nights like this.

“Where are you going?” I asked absentmindedly as I put the finishing touches on my mascara, leaning back to get a better look.

“Kitchen.” He called over his shoulder as he walked out of the bedroom.

Ten minutes later I was putting my backpack over my shoulders, ready to leave. I walked over to the kitchen looking for Jungkook. Finding him instantly, I walked over and placed my hand on his shoulder to grab his attention.

“Hey, I’ll be back soon. Try not to miss me too much.” I teased, expecting him to give me a retort but instead he turned around, travel mug and bagel in hand. The items catching me off guard. I looked up at him in surprise.

“You can’t leave without your breakfast.” He handed them to me while leaning down giving me a sweet kiss that felt far too short. “Good luck on your test.”

Smiling widely, I thanked him for the breakfast and the words of encouragement. I made my way to the door and said a quick goodbye with a promise of coming back as soon as possible.

“Don’t miss me too much.” He called from the living room. Laughing, I replied with a sarcastic ‘I’ll try my best’. He chuckled and flashed me a smile that brightened my day better than the rising sun outside ever could.

“I love you.”

Every morning was a good morning with Jungkook.

“I love you too.”

The Chase Part 4

Guys- they use some bad language. Thats my warning. 

Her bedroom door opened with a bang.

“Get the fuck up!! We’re outta here!!” Nic was just a tad excited about getting out of town. He hadn’t spent this long at home in years! Unfortunately he was meant to be stationary until his new album was ready for release. Aurora helped him get it to production stage so his manager didn’t see the harm in him leaving for his inaugural migration to Florida with Aurora for Fort Rock one of their favourite festivals.

“You fucking cock juggling thunder cunt!! Why do you hate sleep so much!?” Aurora rolled onto her stomach with her pillow over her head. Nic quickly reefed her blanket off, watching her legs flail around while she groaned into the bed. He kneeled next to her and promptly delivered a deafening smack to her ass just where her bare skin met the line of her underwear. All that could be heard after that was a muffled scream as Nic held the pillow over her face to stop the neighbours thinking he was trying to murder her. Once she calmed down he took the pillow off her face. “I fucking hate you.” Her eyes narrowed in on his triumphant grin across his face.

“Come on get up, coffee’s waiting.” Her eyes lit up as she quickly jumped out of bed, tying her hair into a knot on top of her head and grabbing some shorts and doc martins on. The rest could wait until they were in the car.

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anonymous asked:

Fenhawke 20? :)

“If you had asked me to stay, I would’ve.”

Her hand fits perfectly in his. Fingertips trace the lines on his palm, all the little cracks and callouses. Her hands are rough and worn from years of wielding a staff, and all those years before spent with knees in the dirt. They’re still the softest things he’s ever known. He presses a kiss to her knuckles. She smiles as she stands, bed lighter with the sudden loss, and her hand slips from his. He wants to tell her not to go. The sun shines through the cracks in his room, and the birds are beginning to sing. He wants to tell her to stay with him, spend the day in that bed.

He rolls over to lie on his stomach, hugging the pillow beneath him. He watches as she dresses, still hazy from sleep, covering pale skin with robe and armor. A look she’s branded all her own, a look that marks her as Champion. She runs a hand through messy dark locks, tucks stray strands behind her ear. She puts one knee on the bed as she leans over, a hand on Fenris’s back. She presses a kiss to his temple, rubs a fond finger against his cheek. He closes his eyes after she leaves, falls back asleep, dreams of her.

He wakes a few hours later, when the sun has settled, when he can hear the noise of Hightown going about its business. He finds drink, fresh bread, in the kitchen. The mansion has become more livable now that Hawke has come to stay more often. The floors are washed, there are curtains over the windows. Cutlery shines with cleanliness, and there isn’t a cobweb in sight. She’s brought him new furniture. No place to put it in the estate, she said, but I just liked it so much. She treats it like it’s an accident, this buying of furniture. She knows he would protest otherwise.

He curls up in a chair, pulls a blanket over his shoulders. He eats the last of the bedroll, opens the book to the page he had marked. It’s more difficult to read without Hawke there. No one to ask what a certain word is, letters he cannot put together. He manages the best he can, but misses her anyway. It’s easy to lose track of a time as he follows word after word, but he cannot miss the sudden loss of light when the sun begins to set. The worry knots in his chest as he rises, begins to light candles.

Sun gives way to moon, hanging heavy in the sky. He takes his sword with him when he leaves. He goes to the Hanged Man first. Perhaps she had been caught up in drinks with the others? He finds the tavern lacking of her laughter, of her grin, of that raven hair. He goes to her estate next. Bodahn tells him that he has not seen her since she left for his mansion, a few days before. He goes to Aveline, working late, hunched over her desk. The two of them rouse the others. It’s Merrill who tells them she wanted to visit Carver at the Gallows.

Templars at the gate bar their way. The hour for visitation has long since passed. Aveline argues hotly with whoever she can find, turning her attentions to the next and the next and the next. Fenris stands quietly next to her at the gate. He stands quietly for he is afraid that if he speaks, he will shout. He is afraid that if he moves, he will fight. He forces himself to stillness, to wait. The Knight-Commander greets them in the morning, a smile on her face.

An intruder. A mage intruder. In the barracks. Cannot be allowed. Aveline demands to see Carver. Meredith tells her he is no longer at the Gallows. Ferried elsewhere during the night, transferred to some other Circle. Meredith gestures at a Templar behind her. His hand is tightly wound around a woman’s arm, dragging her forward. Dressed in the diminutive robes of a Circle Mage. Hair cut and shaved tight against her head. A fiery brand across her forehead. Blue eyes that look at him dully.

Distantly he can hear the others yelling, screaming. Fenris rocks forward when the Templar lets her go. He runs to his Hawke, takes her face in his hands. She does not react to his touch, does not look him in the eye. His hands fall to hers. They used to fit so perfectly in his. Now they do not seem to want to stay. Back to her cheeks, thumbs brushing over the freckles he loves so dearly. His forehead presses against hers, covers the brand. “Why?” He asks through gritted teeth, “Why did you go?”

“If you had asked me to stay, I would have,” she tells him plainly. He wraps her in his arms, holds her tight against him as he shakes.

Platonic cuddling is so great and it’s so underrated like just laying with a friend with your legs tangled or your head on their shoulder or vice versa or using their stomach as a pillow as you watch them play video games it’s just this warm sense of casual togetherness and it’s truly wonderful



[ second writer application ]

warnings: mature themes

author’s note: just something small! Enjoy ^_^  (applies to most seb characters)

His hair, the way it shined in the sun even at it’s darkest.

Your forehead, his favorite place to kiss when he got back.

His eyes, grey like the storms you heard on a Sunday morning while lying in bed together.

Your nose, a piece of you that your child would inherit.

His lips, almost red from being so pink.

Your jaw, where most kisses went.

His neck, the place your face felt most at home on a bad day.

Your shoulder, his head rest when was bored.

His arms, strong enough to carry your burdens.

Your hands, lighting his skin on fire every time.

His chest, your pillow.

Your stomach, butterflies caged when you saw him.

His hips, skin so smooth and motions so easy.

Your thighs, holding him in place wherever that may be.

His calfs, muscles moving as he worked out.

Your feet, massaged while sharing a bath.

His heart, meshed right together with yours.

Your mind, static only calmed when he whispered in your ears.


Ahsoka rolled over onto her stomach, her pillow at least suppressing most of her extended whine. She started when she felt a hand on the small of her back, warm through the thin blanket. 

Next to her Rex attempted to open his eyes. “Still up?” He barely worked up enough energy to sound any louder than a whisper. 

“Can’t sleep,” she huffed. Ahsoka folded her arms under her montral and smiled for him, even if he hadn’t quite opened his eyes yet. “Sorry if I was loud. Didn’t mean to wake you.” 

His hand stroked the length of her back now. “It wasn’t that. You kicked me about three times so far.” 

Ahsoka buried her face in her arms, groaning out an apology. 

“What’s keeping you up?” 

“Mind won’t shut off. Body still feels antsy.” A common complaint from living in near-permanent survival mode in an Imperial controlled sector of the galaxy. 

Rex sat up then, yanking their blanket until he’d exposed the end of their glorified bunk of a bed. “Give me your feet.” 

“Why?” Ahsoka asked and instinctively drew her legs under the blanket.

Rex motioned for her to hurry up, his patience and humor greatly reduced from being awake at this hour. So Ahsoka swiveled to place her feet across his lap and immediately warm hands embraced her soles, massaging her with an unexpected dexterity. 

“Did this for Cody half the time during training,” Rex explained after her surprised gasp. “I swear, he could get shin splints from sitting. But during our extended field training exercises, this helped him get to sleep.” 

Ahsoka tried her best to clamp down on the next noise to bubble up her throat; it came out as a squeak. His fingers massaged her feet with a soothing firmness that turned the rest of her body boneless. He worked his way slowly and methodically up one of her calves, then down the other, rubbing the tenseness out of her muscles, paying careful attention to every new inch of skin. 

By the time he finished, her feet felt like they could float away. 

“What are you doing on the run with me?” Ahsoka asked at his first expectant glance. “Open up a massage clinic—you’ll be rolling in money!”

Rex chuckled on his way back to his pillow. “G’night, Ahsoka.” 

“Wait, how good are you with shoulders?” she asked, suddenly poking him. “And come to think of it, my back’s been pretty stiff recently.” 

“Good night, Ahsoka.”

She swiveled around again, pointing her back to him but still managing to poke him from behind. “Rex—Rex! My shoulders.”

LETHAL | Mafia! Au | Jungkook X Reader | Smut | Part 2

Mature content ahead, sorry for any mistakes, and thanks for reading this!

Originally posted by queenwithcollars

Yawning and stretching your arms above your head, you put the key into the lock of your apartment, unlocked the door, and entered.
What a long day. Three kills, and a new step-cousin and partner - and a painfully irritating one at that. Your phone screen told you it was 3 am, and you groaned before flopping onto your sofa.
You couldn’t be bothered to turn the lights on, nor could you be bothered to get changed into your pyjamas. You were so tired. Deciding you would shower in the morning, you draped an arm over your stomach, and put a pillow behind your head.
Darkness surrounded you, and your breathing steadied. You were drifting off to sleep, and then you heard it.
A small intake of breath, restricted to prevent you from hearing it. You made no sudden movements, and kept your breathing steady and slow, so it would seem as if you were asleep.
Already hammering in your chest, your heartbeat quickened impossibly quicker when you heard the intruder gently shift the weight of one foot to the other. They were getting closer to you.
It was undoubted that the intruder would have a gun: and it was undoubted the intruder was a member of the Ruby Mob, sent here by Jimin. To kill you, to interrogate you, to use your for ransom, it didn’t matter. All of those options would end in death.
As they neared you, you mapped out your options. The lights were out, which meant level of visibility was low, but your figure would be less clear as made an escape. It also meant they wouldn’t shoot at you: it would be a waste of bullets. You wouldn’t reach the door if you tried: you would have to leap the coffee table next to the sofa, but you wouldn’t be able to clear it one movement: it would require two.
And you only had time for one.
Rolling off the sofa, you dropped onto all fours, and grabbed the lamp from beside the couch. The intruder lunged at you, and you could only see their silhouette. In the darkness, you could see that the individual was a man - they were far taller than you, but then again that wasn’t hard: you had a small frame in the first place.
Without hesitation, you slammed the lamp down onto the side of the intruder’s neck, the bulb smashing in the process. The man let out a gruff cry as the glass pierced the skin of his neck, and he dropped to the ground.
You had him.
But you did what no person should ever do - you let your guard down.
It was only for a split second, as you allowed him to drop to the floor. It had been your intention to stamp on is skull when he had hit the ground, but things did not work as you had planned them to. Because as his legs gave out, he plunged a needle into your calf, and injected a substance into your bloodstream.
Swearing colourfully, your legs weakened and you flopped to the ground. Your head spun violently as the drug flowed through your bloodstream, and unconsciousness enveloped you.
Head snapping up, you squinted in the harsh light of the bare bulb dangling from the ceiling. You attempted to move your arms and legs, but it was useless. Your arms were tied behind your back, and your legs were tied to the legs of the chipped wooden chair you were sat upon.
The room you were in was small, and the walls bare. There was a table about two metres away from you, with a man perched upon it.
He was wearing a white tank top, and black jeans. His white hair was slicked back, and a bandage was wrapped over his shoulder, and it ran under his arm.
With a malicious smirk, he looked you over. ‘Well, well, Sleeping Beauty awakes,’ he laughed, sadistic amusement dancing in his eyes.
Keeping your mouth shut, you stared at him with an emotionless expression. He motioned to his shoulder. 'It was a bit mean, don’t you think, giving me this? Things would have been so much easier if you had just come along with me like a good little girl.’
Gritting your teeth at being referred to 'little girl,’ you still kept your mouth shut. He was clearly trying to rile you up, but there was no way in hell that you were going to give him in the damn satisfaction.
'How can such a pretty little thing take so many lives?’ he went on.
Still, you sat still as a statue, barely even blinking.
With a sigh, he stood up. 'It’s such a shame Jimin’s on his way to kill you, because I would have loved to have some fun with you first,’ he said.  By the way he bit his lip when he said, 'fun,’ it was clear he possessed an agenda of his own.
You blinked twice now, and swallowed rather loudly. Many times you had imagined how you were going to die. Some ways were more painful than others. But dying it Jimin’s hand would be the worst damn way possible. For him to hurt Yoongi like that - it was a blow Yoongi would never be able to return to Jimin.
Stalking smugly, your captor approached you and leaned down to your level. You winced as his teeth grazed your earlobe, and as he dragged his tongue along your neck.
He whispered in your ear, 'I may not be able to have any fun with you, but I can most certainly return the injury you gave
Pulling away abruptly, he smashed his fist into your cheekbone. Your head whipped violently to the side from the impact, and sharp pain shot through your cheek.
'It pains me to see such a pretty face get so beat up,’ the man murmured, before swinging his other hand and landing a hit on your other cheekbone.
Chuckling darkly, he slammed his fist into your stomach. You doubled over, groaning in pain.
As he raised his fist again to deliver another blow - one that would surely knock your teeth out - the door handle at the other side of the room blew off.
Your captor spun round, his jaw hanging slack, clearly not expecting whatever this was.
Very nearly flying off its hinges, the door was kicked open. A blur of black clothing and brown hair flew into the room, and raised their gun.
They fired two shots into the skull of your captor, whose brains were promptly splattered upon your face and the walls.
As you looked up, panting in pain from your injuries, blood and gore dripping from your chin, you met the gaze of Jeon Jungkook.
Blood speckling his neck and clothing, clutching a gun in his right hand, eyes filled with concern. You had known him for only a short amount of time, in which you had come to strongly dislike him. But damn, were you glad to see him. Hurriedly, he crossed the room to you, and untied you from the chair.
You had undoubtedly been in shock throughout the ordeal, and finally you came to your senses. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, causing your numerous cuts and bruises to sting. You made no sound, but sobs racked your small frame.
Jungkook picked you up in his arms, and without even thinking you curled into his warm embrace. He awkwardly brushed your hair back, and exited the room with your sobbing body clutched to his chest.
You heard him murmur, 'I’m here,’ before again you were pulled into unconsciousness.

okay but in step sister au lexa straddles clarke on the couch for a hot make out session, alright? nice and heavy and grinding in all the right places. thank god for lexa’s exceptional hearing; there are keys being dangled and the front door being opened and the thrill of being caught just became the very feasible risk of being caught. thank god for her hearing, but damn clarke’s freakishly fast reflexes.

abby and lexa’s father walk in, pamphlets in hands and snow melting on their shoulders; lexa greets them with a pained groan and clutching of her head, and clarke greets them with flailing around lexa, eyes wide with shock. and blood; although they aren’t sure if it’s clarke’s or lexa’s.

it’s lexa’s. yes, clarke absolutely did push lexa off of her in a gay step-sister panic, and lexa cracked her head on the coffee table; a solid, chunky wooden son of a bitch with sharp edges and ill intentions.

lexa ends up in a hospital and abby scolds clarke for landing her sister (step sister, clarke mutters darkly) in the hospital. lexa’s dad only chuckles. “they were just playing around, dear,” he says. “sisters do that.” (step sisters, clarke thinks as she squeezes lexa’s fingers; the girl is sleeping off her concussion, bandaged and pale in a hospital gown.)

Collision Course

*turns down the lights* It’s about to get introspective up in here. LadyNoir for the soul.



If anyone asked her, it should have been listed on the job description, right there between “save the day” and “be an inspiration to little girls everywhere.”

Touch your partner.

A fist bump. A hand on the shoulder. An arm about the waist. An overhead throw. Their very first meeting had started with a full body collision: two teenagers twined together, generating heat.

Society had rules about personal space. Ladybug and Chat Noir had theirs, too. More often than not those rules had to be disregarded in moments where quick thinking took priority.

And once they got started, it became easy to forget.

They sat side by side, shoulders and knees pressed together. They pushed. They shoved. She tickled him mercilessly and he tickled her right back. Cat naps slipped into their routine, chests and stomachs used as pillows. Hands wandered with no real destination.

Society had rules about personal space because touch was a potent drug.

She found herself craving him. Day and night. Every second she did not spend jacked into his warmth made her skin crawl.

Little by little his lines and angles endeared her towards him. She fell in love with the space he occupied in the world. Butterflies took flight when she thought of how his fingers fit so comfortably between her own. The ghost of his embrace kept her up at night.

Inevitably, there came a point where hands did not suffice anymore.

And when lips collided, they were reminded of their first meeting: two teenagers twined together, generating heat.

Advantages of dating a thiccc dude

1. You ain’t never gotta feel bad for eating more
2. They stomachs are the best pillow ever
3. That look they give you when you try eating “healthier” for your new years resolution
4. Wearing they’re clothes (its comfy af don’t fight me on this)
5. Laughing as you try to attempt those dumbass “relationship goals” shit
6. What’s not to love the fuck?