the way he leans in before running

Promises (Smut)

Request: Can you do a smut where Shawns on tour and him and his girlfriend traditionally have post-concert sex but she hasn’t been with him for the last few concerts so she surprises him after a concert and they have rough/passionate sex in the dressing room

Word count: 2,825

Promises (Smut) 

“Hey Geoff, it’s y/n” I said, after pressing on Geoff’s number on my phone.

“Hey, did you land already?”

“Yes, I’m on my way to the venue now, I’ll take a couple hours though”

“It’s fine, you’ll surprise Shawn after the concert” Geoff told me, which made me smile widely.

Keep reading

Salvation

pairing: Bucky x reader

words: 1.2k+

warnings: mild mild angst but F L U F F 

summary: A quiet cold November morning with Bucky, confessions happen.

A/N: I don’t know what this is or how it happened but I like it a lot. Title (also the song I listened to while writing this) from Salvation by Gabrielle Aplin.

@buckyywiththegoodhair​, you are an angel and I don’t know where I’d be without you. Thank you so much for helping me out and editing.

 

Originally posted by lovablecouples

You were preparing your morning coffee when Bucky Barnes walked into the room. He took his usual place, leaning against the kitchen counter, just watching you pour way too much sugar in your extra tall mug, like he did most mornings. The two of you were the only ones in the building to be found awake this early. Besides Steve of course, who routinely went out for a run every single morning before the crack of dawn. 

Bucky watched you with an amused expression, a lazy grin spread on his face and sleepiness evident in the way his eyes were slightly hooded. The coldness of the floorboards beneath your feet acted as a reminder that you shouldn’t be walking around barefoot on a cold November morning. 

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friendship da(y)te

summary: au where simon and baz are best friends and friendship day comes around. okay, i promise it’s not that lame,, please read my fic

word count: 1.4k

this is for @carryon-valentines day 1: friendship day

i’m sorry i might’ve made it less friend and more SHIP but yeah



SIMON

“BAZ!” I yell as soon as I spot his tall, lean figure heading towards me. “Happy Friendship Day!”

I run towards him and envelope him in a bone-crushing hug.

“You too, Snow!”

His arms come up around my waist and we just stand there. Holding each other. Like we’ve done so many times before. Not romantically.

But I wish it were.

Romantic, I mean.

It’s been this way for months now, since I figured it out. That I liked Baz. He’s my best friend, he’s been my best friend for years, and I know everything about him. Only later I realized that my obsession with him was not just because of our strong friendship.

It was because of his deep, grey eyes and how they twinkle when he smiles.

It was because of his silky, soft hair that falls in perfect waves- framing his face (really, everything about him is a piece of art.)

It was because of making him play the violin not just because he’s brilliant, but also so that I could watch him focus while his eyes are shut.

Yeah, I’m obsessed. And I don’t even know how to tell him because…

What if he takes it badly?

It might fuck up our friendship.

And there’s no way in hell that I’m taking that chance.

BAZ

I can see his mop of bronze curls from a mile away, and I can recognize them within seconds. Because I’m whipped. He hugs me as soon as he sees me, and I hold him there, just like I do all the time. I rest my head on his, and I breath in his smoky, refreshing scent that’s all too familiar by now. I don’t think he knows that I love him, and I don’t think he realizes how much it pains me to celebrate “Friendship Day” with him, because honestly. Enough of this friendship thing. I’m pretty sure I fell for him two days after we met, but he’s a moron and he’s straight. So. I just wallow in my misery everyday. We have only a few minutes here anyway; he has to go to his classes (astrophysics- his first class on Tuesday mornings) (it is sad that I know that) and I have to go for mine- History (honestly a really boring subject- I happen to know everything already since I studied it during the vacation.) We’ll meet again at lunch for an hour and a half, and then if he decides to come over, then maybe longer. But that’s it. Nothing special to look forward to.

“Baz, how about dinner today?” he asks.

“Sure. As a Friendship Day thing?”

“As a date, I guess.”

I pray that I’m not blushing. He says it so plainly. It can’t possibly mean more that being just a get-together in the name of our friendship.

But I guess I do have something to look forward to.

 

SIMON

 

Did I just say that? Oh my god.

As soon as Baz turns away, I’m pretty sure I’m red enough to stop traffic. I rush to class, worried about just about everything that could possibly go wrong. I float through the day, until it’s lunch, where I finally see Baz again.

He starts conversation immediately-

“So, what, for our dinner do you want me to wear a suit?”

He says it sarcastically, and obviously I know he’s being sarcastic, but it would be great to see him in a suit.

So I say, “Sure, if you want to.”

He cocks his head towards me. “Okay. I’ll wear a suit if you do.”

If it means seeing Baz in a suit, then yes I’m wearing a suit.

“Deal”

Fifteen minutes before I have to get there, I start searching for suits, and simultaneously realize how my time management skills are equivalent to those of a coconut. I have none.

After three minutes of frantic searching, I find a grey suit that looks about my size and that’ll have to do because honestly, I’m having a bit of a time crisis here. I head to the bathroom and hastily get dressed, and then I rush to the restaurant where I’m should’ve reached ten minutes ago.

BAZ

I happen to have an entire collection of suits because of our family dinners. So I just went through them and chose a dark, black one. Typical.

I left the house giving myself twenty minutes to get there. We’re going to a relatively fancy restaurant so we don’t look too out of place with our outfits. I reach there five minutes before time, and I’m pretty sure I’ve reached before Simon. He’s late all the time anyway, so it’s no surprise. And I like the idea of being here before him so I can take some time to take in the surroundings, and so that I can choose a nice place to sit- preferably in the corner, so Simon and I can talk in peace.

Why does our little friendship day outing feel like a date?

Simon walks in ten minutes later, his eyes searching. I wave to him, and he heads towards me. Are his pupils a little blown or is that just me?

It’s probably just me.

He’s wearing a grey suit, and it’s sitting on his shoulders perfectly, outlining him and somehow not looking too tight. His hair is messy and tousled, as it is all the time, and his eyes are like shining wells of clear water reflecting the brilliant blue sky above. It’s overwhelming.

He looks stunning.

SIMON

I look at Baz, and I just can’t stop looking.

Because shit.

He’s beautiful.

In a black suit that compliments his lean, muscular features and his grey eyes (that look bright now, because of his dark clothing) perfectly. I think it’s too much for me to take. I just really want to kiss him. He’s sitting in front of me, and even though we’re talking about what food we’re about to order, I’m just thinking about his lips. And how they move when he talks to me. And how they would taste if I, you know, hypothetically of course, kissed him.

This really does feel like a date. He insists on paying. And that leaves me feeling like I should give him something in return.

How about a kiss? My mind nags. I force it to shut up.

But it doesn’t stop.

BAZ

We walk out of the restaurant, and it’s dark.

He asks me if I want to stay over, and obviously, I don’t deny.

We’re walking alone to his place.

It’s dark.

And I want to kiss him.

“Baz…” Simon says.

I stop and turn to him.

His eyes are bright with some kind of unidentifiable fire.

SIMON

 

Okay, fuck it. I’ve had enough. I need Baz’s lips on mine.

“You know what?” I say, “I didn’t give you anything for friendship day.”

I take a step closer, and I can only hope that his expression is a reflection of my own.

“I mean…” I go on, “You gave me that dinner.”

A step forward.

“So thank you for that.”

And another.

“And now…I want to give you…”

BAZ

 

He’s so close, so close.

And then he kisses me.

His lips are on mine, moving, and hot.

My arms move slide up around his back, and he pushes me.

SIMON

 

Baz is kissing me back.

It’s unbelievable.

His lips are magical. Just what I expected.

It’s hot and it’s cold at the same time.

And I’m kissing Baz.

BAZ

 

He isn’t stopping.

And honestly, I’m glad.

Simon Snow is kissing me.

I’m kissing Simon Snow.

My best friend.

My love.

SIMON

The moment stretches and the kiss feels much longer than it actually is. It’s not like I’m keeping track of anything.

I’m way past rational thought.

The sparks I feel running through my veins and the tingles I feel every time I make contact with Baz’s skin seem imaginary and all too real, at the same time.

Let’s never stop this.

BAZ

 

Okay, firstly, Simon is gay. Or bisexual. Whatever it is, it’s an actual blessing.

Secondly, Simon is so good at this kissing thing?

His arms, his jaw, his tongue.

They all seem to exactly what they’re doing.

I, on the other hand, have my mouth jammed against his; my arms are tracing random patterns on his back. It all worries me, really. What if I’m not good enough? I’m probably shit, considering my experience with this stuff.

But Simon is smiling against my mouth.

And Simon is sighing and saying my name.

Maybe…maybe I’m doing okay.

 

SIMON

 

I pull away, reluctantly.

It takes so much effort.

“Let’s go home?”

Baz sighs, nods, and takes my hand.

It is a happy friendship day indeed.

Getting Busy, Part 1

Pairings: Steve x Reader x Bucky 

Request: Could you please write a NSFW fic where Steve and the reader are ‘getting busy’ in the avengers tower and Bucky catches them and joins in? -Anonymous

Words: 1,2k

Warnings: SMUT (oral -female receiving, fingering), curse words

A/N: Sorry mom, this is just pure, dirty and all the way sinful smut (not that it’s something you haven’t seen on my blog before lol). I hope you enjoy x

Oh and I decided to split the fic in two parts, so I can make the smut detailed without the fic being way too long.

Part 2

Originally posted by bars-that-hide-the-stars

“Steve,” you let out a soft giggle as he leaned over you, pressing his soft lips against your neck. Closing your eyes you tilted your head slightly back against the pillows to give his lips more space to work on. A soft moan escaped your slightly opened lips as he bit the skin above your ear, causing shivers to run through your body.

“Babe we are going to be late,” you let out a bubbly laugh, as his lips continued to plant gentle kisses around your skin.

You and Steve had been dating for almost a year already, so it wasn’t a surprise that most of the mornings you woke up from his bed –and today wasn’t an exception.

“They’ll understand,” he chuckled, his lustful voice deep and his bright blue eyes darkening a bit as he pressed his lips against yours for demanding kiss, his hands pressed against the mattress next to your head and the weight of his body keeping you still. Sliding his tongue into your mouth, he deepened the kiss, making you throw your fingers to his blond hair as soft moans escaped your lips.

“Steve,” you gasped, breaking the kiss as you felt his fingers on your clit, rubbing it with soft movements through the thin fabric of your briefs. “Baby we can’t –we are already late from the meeting, Tony is going to kill us,” you mumbled, yet another loud moan escaped your lips as his movements on your clit got more demanding –and so much more satisfying.

“I’ll make sure you come quickly,” Steve whispered to your ear, nipping your earlobe gently. You focused your eyes on his, biting your bottom lip as you saw how dark –how full of lust this eyes were.

Smirk rising to your lips, you nod your head as he pulled your briefs down, tossing them somewhere to the floor, before starting to make his way down your body, pressing soft kisses to all of the exposed skin.

“Do you even know how hot you look in my t-shirts?” He raised his eyebrow with deep twinkle in his eyes, as he slid his hand under your –under his t-shirt, his fingers finding your already hard nipple, drawing circles to the surrounding, delicate skin.

“Yes,” you laughed softly, squirming under his touch, “you tell me that almost every day-“

“Well it’s true,” he whispered, twisting your nipple gently between his fingers, causing you to moan loud enough for him to chuckle softly. “I think we should leave this on for now.”

“I don’t- just please-,” you stammered, making him laugh softly as you lift your hips to get in touch with him. The feeling of his hard crotch pressing against your already dripping wet core made both of you sigh from the lust building inside of you. “I need you.”

“Shit, Y/N,” he groaned, moving his fingers to tease your entrance, the feeling almost driving you crazy.

One of the things you loved about Steve was that even the smallest touches he pressed to your skin made you feel like you hadn’t been touched in years. Just knowing that they were Steve’s fingers running along your tight or his soft lips planting a kiss to your forehead made your heart flutter and your head spin from the combination of pure lust and love.

You gasped loudly, collapsing to the bed as he licked a line along your cunt, before closing your clit between his lips, his tongue drawing circles around it as his fingers kept teasing your entrance.

Tugging his fingers to the flesh of your hips, he held you still, pressed against the mattress as he kept working on you. The fact that you couldn’t squirm further from him to make the harsh waves of satisfaction easier to handle, the feeling of his lips sucking your clit and his finger sliding inside of you made you on the edge of your orgasm in a blink of an eye. Squirming under his touch, his name surrounded with soft moans kept escaping your lips over and over again, making Steve’s movements even more heated and sensual.

So, as you heard a familiar voice calling at the names of the two of you and saw the door of Steve’s room open, there were no way you could have made Steve stop his incredible torture. You were too close, too turned on and too eager to stop, as your eyes met Bucky’s widening ones.

“Holy shit,” he formed the words with his lips, his eyes locking with yours as you looked at him, your forehead glistening from sweat and Steve’s mouth still working on you, his movements turning harder and harder, more demanding and over-satisfying each passing moment.

The twinkle in Bucky’s dark eyes and the visibly crowing pulp in his pants along with the harsh waves of pleasure running through your body made you come in no time, screaming Steve’s name along with curse words, as you collapsed to the bed, trying your best to steady your breathing and get your thoughts into right order.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed out, causing Steve to turn his head with amused smirk taking over his face as he saw how flushed his best friend was, his breathing unsteady and his hand still on the doorknob. “I- I’m sorry, I think I should go-“

“No,” you called out, biting your bottom lip as you tried to clear your mind. Seeing Bucky looking at you like that –his eyes dark and his lips slightly open –it made the lust to burn inside of you, and you knew you weren’t the only one. The three of you had been joking about having threesome, yet you knew that it wasn’t just a joke, not for any of you. So seeing Bucky watching you orgasm, Steve’s hand still drawing circles on your inner tight and your body begging to be fucked –you knew you couldn’t waist the opportunity –nor did you want to either.

Smile rising to your lips, you took a deep breath as you sat up on the bed, looking straight into Bucky’s eyes. “I want you to stay.”

Rising an eyebrow, Steve nipped his bottom lip between his teeth, before turning back to Bucky with amused smirk on his glistening, swollen lips. “Well, you heard what she said.”


Part 2

4

Salim was waiting for her when she came downstairs. He’d called when he first arrived but Ryleigh insisted on meeting him outside; she didn’t want him to see her tiny rundown apartment. He’d probably run screaming in the other direction the second he did.

“Wow,” Salim exclaimed appreciatively, looking her up and down as she made her way down the front steps.

“You like it?” Ryleigh glanced down at the dress she’d spent way too much money on.

“You look stunning!” he leaned in to brush a gentle kiss against her cheek before stepping back and grinning at her. “You always look beautiful not matter what you wear though.”

Ryleigh glanced down at the ground as she felt the heat rising in her neck and cheeks. “Well you told me to dress up,” she muttered.

“I did,” Salim chuckled and reached out to gently take her left hand. “And you certainly delivered. Ready to go?”

“Where are we going?” she looked back up at him curiously.

“It’s a surprise,” he grinned again and winked at her.

She narrowed her eyes at him; “Have I ever mentioned I hate surprises?”

Salim suddenly laughed loudly and Ryleigh almost forgot how to breath. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he tugged on her hand, encouraging her to follow him as he turned to walk down the street towards the train station. “I think you’ll like this one though.”

poursuislesetolies  asked:

omg #44 and Fitz Simmons for the asks thing please!!!!! I adore your writing btw ur fab

44) things you said before you kissed me

i.

He has only just stumbled back into the base’s main hallway, locking the door securely behind him even though he knows there is little chance any of Hive’s minions having followed him that way, when he sees her turn the corner.

Jemma’s hair is flying out behind her as she runs, her face white and pinched, and Fitz barely has the time to bat away the lab techs trying to talk to him before she reaches him. When she does, she all but flings herself at him, her feet leaving the ground and her arms winding tightly around his neck.

His hands still shaking slightly, it takes all of Fitz’s concentration not to drop her and he staggers backwards to lean against the wall, supporting both their weights. He can feel the agents around them quickly disperse, and he is grateful for that, especially as he can feel relieved tears start to prick behind his closed eyes.

After a few more moments, Jemma lifts her head and slides to the floor, relieving the ache in his arms. Carefully, she brings both her hands up and holds them on either side of his face, her thumbs stroking over his cheeks. When he looks in her eyes and sees the all-encompassing terror still shining there, Fitz wants to pull her in close again and never let go.

‘I don’t want to lose you,’ she says, her voice thick with tears. ‘Not like that.’

He shakes his head, and reaches out for her. Jemma falls into him with a sob, pressing her face into his chest. Feeling the beat of her frantic heart start to slow, Fitz takes a deep breath to try and calm his own.

‘You’re not going to lose me,’ he replies fiercely. ‘Not at all.’

He feels Jemma nod against him, and she gives a shuddering sigh as her grip on the back of his jacket tightens.

She kisses him hard, her lips hot and tasting of salt, and to Fitz it feels like the searing burn of a covenant.

Keep reading

Keep Taking My Breath Away (You Make Me Speechless)

A/N: So, I took part in the 2016 MCGA Secret Santa on tumblr (organized by @mcgasecretsanta2016), and this is my gift to the awesome @kioliaa! Here’s wishing you a merry Christmas, and I hope 2017 is a super awesome year for you! 


On Tuesdays, they release the wolves.

Magnus hates Tuesdays.

Can’t let them get behind me. Magnus takes a sharp step backwards, letting them think he’s running. The two wolves jump forwards, one at his throat and the other at his legs. Magnus leans out of the way, allowing one to sail by his face, but a claw manages to sink into his arm with a ripping sound. Magnus cringes, but the other wolf is already on him, its mouth opening around his thigh, eyes wide and teeth yellowed and razor-like, and he barely has time to jump out of the way as its teeth chomp together. Before it can try again, Magnus thrusts his sword with all the strength he possesses. His blade sinks into the animal with a sickening squelch and the wolf collapses to the side.

The other wolf howls angrily. The animal paces, circling Magnus, ready for a second pass. A sharp whistling cuts through the air. Its head goes flying, sending bits of blood and flesh and bone splattering everywhere.

Breathing heavily, Magnus darts behind a pile of rocks. He lands hard, and rolls like a log until he feels the reassuring pressure of stone against his spine. Blood streams down his arm, warm and sticky, but Magnus ignores it in favour of peeking out behind his little shelter. He’s lost sight of his friends; it’s become impossible to make them out in the screaming, sweaty mass of einherjei charging into battle. Raw pain and the coppery stench of blood make him woozy.

Alex joins him behind the pile of rocks, breathing hard and clutching her garrotte to her chest. It’s stained with blood and bits of flesh, and Magnus tries not to look at the bloody pieces clinging to the wire. He really doesn’t want his breakfast to make a reappearance. Instead, he focuses on Alex’s face. She looks as though she’s having the time of her life. There’s a smudge of dirt on the tip of her nose. Her eyes gleam brightly. Her hair sticks up in five directions. Her jeans, pink button-down shirt and neon green Converse are covered in dust. Beautiful.

Cheeks warming, Magnus turns away so that he doesn’t end up saying that to her face. He ends up staring at his black and white pair of Jack Purcell sneakers. There’s nothing remotely beautiful about them.

He clears his throat. “You okay?”

Alex fixes him with an incredulous stare, her gaze ping ponging from the bloody gash down his arm to his face, smudged with dirt and sweat. “Are you seriously asking me that when your arm’s been sliced in half?”

“It’ll heal,” Magnus lies, fighting the urge to heal the broken skin and torn muscle fibres. Several battles under his belt, and he’s learnt that expending all his energy over something as trivial as a scratch would only make him an easy target. Instead, he allows himself to mop up the blood dribbling down his arm with the sleeve of his jacket, hoping that that will suffice.

“Are you okay? Seriously.”

Alex nods smugly. “Not a scratch on me. You on the other hand …” She sighs in mock-disappointment, sending green curls flying as she shakes her head. “Can’t even last a minute without me watching your back, huh?”

The lightness of her voice can’t mask the worry clouding her eyes, her voice, or the little crease in between her brows that always appears whenever she’s unhappy. Magnus wraps his hand tightly around the leather-bound hilt of his sword, resisting the urge to smooth out her brow with his tips of his fingers.

Over the butterflies coming to life in his belly, Magnus huffs out a weak protest. “I lasted for ten, actually.”

Alex is liberal with her smiles today. Bright-eyed, flushed and pretty, she gives Magnus one. “I take it back, then.”

His heart stutters in his chest. How is it that a mere smile can transform Alex Fierro from being shockingly pretty to heartbreakingly beautiful?

“What is it?” She’s frowning now, leaning in so close that Magnus can see the sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks. The heady smell of pine needles and balsam, pockets of goodness that he has come to associate with Alex, tickles his nose. “Did you get hit on the head, too?”

He can feel a blush starting, and when Alex’s arm brushes against his, the heat spreads down his neck. Calm down. It’s only Alex. Magnus swallows back all the ooey-gooey words that threaten to spill out of him. He manages to shake his head.

“Um –” Magnus breaks off, his heart racing frantically along in his chest. He hopes he doesn’t look as goofy as he feels. “Uh … Alex –”

“What is it?” Alex tilts her head to the side, staring through him. Confusion and disbelief mar her otherwise beautiful face. “Magnus, you’re acting even weirder than normal, and that’s saying a lot.”

“You’re cute.” He rushes his words out. The moment he says the words, he wants to take them back. “Like, I want to kiss you kind of cute.”

There’s a pause as his brain tries to catch up with what his mouth has just said. When he finally realises that he’s just used the phrases “I want to kiss” and “Alex Fierro” in the same sentence, Magnus is almost overcome with the urge to bury his head in his hands, put his fingers in his ears and sing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” at the top of his lungs.

He blames this on the blood loss.

There’s a definite plus side to the situation. At least, if he dies – either from getting beheaded with a clay cutter or from embarrassment at having blurted out his feelings on a battlefield, of all places – Magnus can at least take comfort in the fact that he’s the first person to see Alex’s cheeks pink and her mouth fall open. She’s having trouble looking him in the eyes, and Magnus swears up and down that he hears a faint, “Oh my Gods.”

A blushing Alex Fierro is not an image he’ll easily forget. Magnus just wishes he had a camera.

“You,” Alex says at last, “Really have the worst timing.”

Magnus winces. His palms sweat and his face flames. So foreign to him is admitting his mountain-sized crush that he feels completely overcome with panic. “I know.”

“Just up and saying that while we’re in the middle of a battle?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been waiting for ages for you stop staring at me, and to actually do something, and this is what I get?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You could have picked a better location, you know. Even the hallway would have been fine!”

“I know.”

“What’s next, you proposing marriage during Ragnarok?”

Not something he’s anticipated hearing. At first, it’s almost as if he’s in a dream, feeling strangely light-headed and detached from the fighting and shouting going on around him; but the throbbing in his arm brings him back down to earth with a crash.

“You – Me – M-Marry … Wait.” Magnus knows he sounds like he’s finally lost it, but his brain can’t seem to form complete sentences. “Wait. You want to get married to me?”

Alex splutters, “That’s not the point!” If possible, her cheeks turn even redder.

“It so is!” Magnus crows, already feeling a triumphant grin stretch across his face. “I quote, ’What’s next, you proposing during Ragnarok?’!”

“I was just talking about your timing – or lack thereof!” Alex fires back, her voice rising several frantic octaves. “It was just an example!”

“No, you said you wanted to get married to me!”

It elicits a frustrated growl from Alex. “Magnus Chase, you are the single most infuriating person I have ever met!”

And here it comes, Magnus thinks. Death by clay cutter. But instead of cold wire pressing against his flesh, Alex’s warm – and decidedly not cold – lips crash onto his.

Her lips cling to his: soft, so soft …

“But you still like me.” Magnus manages, once Alex pulls away.

“And for the life of me, I have no idea why,” Alex mutters, but she’s smiling. “It’s a sign of my questionable taste, if you ask me.”

Dusting off her shirt and jeans, Alex makes to leave. Oh, right. The battle. It’ s a miracle they haven’t been killed yet. Magnus’ head swirls. Alex still carries herself with grace, looking for all the world like a supermodel on the way to her next booking, and Magnus can’t help but think that it isn’t fair – especially since he looks like he’s been going dumpster diving.

Before he can change his mind, Magnus quips, “What, don’t I get a kiss for luck?”

He grins when a light blush dusts her cheeks. The tables have finally turned, after several months of him being reduced to a blushing, flustered mess around Alex.

“Come back alive, Maggie. Then we’ll see.” She flashes him a half-smile over her shoulder. “And you owe me a date.”

3

we all know it’s the choreography, but *chandler bing voice* could you look any more in love? // scott’s home is in the crook of tessa’s neck, and tessa’s home is in scott’s arms.

anonymous asked:

non-sexual intimacy

  • playing with hair: whenever they’re mellowing out on the couch watching tv, anti always leans in as dark wraps his arm around anti’s shoulders and runs his fingers through anti’s hair. the softness of anti’s hair and feeling anti relax against him surges his protectiveness. and for anti, it’s a reassurance to him that dark is there for him in case things get out of his control and has no way of coming back down.

  • drawing: i got a headcanon before about anti loving to draw in the tradition way, like with pencil and paper. anti always tells himself that he can draw whatever he wants, but he pretty much always ends up drawing dark. anti would be sitting in the living room with his sketchbook all curled up and his eyes would look over the top to glance at dark’s outline, seeing the way his black hair tumbles over his forehead, or how he squares his broad shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes, or the slight curve of his hips… anti probably ends up breaking his pencil.

  • piano playing: dark loves playing piano, it’s therapeutic for him and immediately helps him destress. anti always scoffs at him, saying that playing the piano is boring, pointless, stupid even. but when dark starts to play, his fingers swiftly moving back and forth over the keys, anti is just stunned for words. anti eventually, and shyly, asks if dark could teach him, to which dark promptly places anti in his lap and guides anti’s hands over the keys as they make music together. anti’s a blushing mess after each session.

  • memes and videos:  if there’s one thing that anti pesters dark all the time with, it’s memes and videos. dark’s phone practically blows up with messages of anti just sending him the latest memes or videos of cute animals. it’s bothersome, especially when anti sends about twenty in a row, but it is always amusing hearing anti laugh from the other room when dark sends a meme in return.

send me a word and i’ll tell you dark/anti headcanons based on that word!

the highway signs say we’re close

because im super angsty after last nights episode and we all know that Lukas isnt good at showing how he feels. idk what this is. fluff. some angst. 

so, here you go. Lukas taking care of a drunk and sad Philip. 


Lukas pushes through the front door, letting his backpack fall off his shoulders and onto the wood floor, not even stopping before turning on his heels and heading out to the barn. He runs a hand through his shaggy hair, letting out a long breath.
He makes his way towards the worktable when he gets in, and finds it already occupied.
Philip leans against it, one arm holding himself up, the other clutching a large and nearly empty bottle of vodka. He lifts it to his lips and takes a large swig, before setting it beside him with a grimace.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Lukas asks, brows furrowing. Philip is still wearing the clothes from the night prior, and from the looks of it, he didn’t go home.
“Do you feel it?” Philip asks, lifting his head and meeting Lukas’ eyes.
“What?” Lukas asks, grabbing the vodka bottle from beside Philip, and frowning. Philip reaches for it, and Lukas turns it upside down, letting the remaining liquid fall into the hay. Philip pouts, and makes another grab for the bottle, though it’s now empty.
“An ache. Here. This one.” Philip says, bringing his hand up to his chest, pressing his fingers against his shirt.
“You’re drunk, Philip.”
“Do you feel it? When you’re with me?”
“Philip-“
“It’s like a good pain. In your chest. Heart. Whatever. Do you?” Philip asks, hand dropping back to his side. His lips part, and he watches Lukas, waiting for an answer. 

Keep reading

2

IMAGINE: You can’t help but like Damon even though you hate the idea of it.

He was generally a thorn in your side. He was impulsive, reckless, and overly-charismatic—that was your own definition of “weird.” You lived in the house adjacent to the Salvatores, so they saw you most mornings on your run before work. Damon always leaned in the doorway of his house those mornings, blood dripping from his chin or most likely in the mug he held you were confident didn’t hold coffee, tea, or the like. You enjoyed seeing him that way, it was comforting and you hated it. 

You hated that you had to force yourself to stop smiling as he flirtatious waved at you from the windows as you got in your car. You loathed his constant invites to the parties he attended and made yourself say no. And you downright despised the moments he told you, “You know, you’d be a lot more enjoyable if you actually let yourself like me a little.” 

“Oh, would I?” you replied one morning when you came over to fix Stefan’s car. “I bet you’ve got a nice smile,” he flirted. “As a matter of fact, I do. But not for you,” you pretended. He leaned on the hood as you adjusted one of the rims, testing its hold. Damon tilted his head to the side as he swished his morning drink around in a glass cup and looked at it in his familiar “puppy dog” eyes. “I bet some of this would really make you get that little grin going in just a few minutes,” he snickered. “I can hold my alcohol just about as well as the bottle,” you scoffed. “So, if I gave you some of this you wouldn’t get drunk?” he continued to play with you. 

You rolled your eyes as you finished on Stefan’s car, setting the wrench aside. “I’m done. Tell Stefan to give it a whirl when you see him and let me know if it’s okay,” you changed the subject. “C’mon, Y/N. One drink. And if you don’t like alcohol, you should try a blood bag because you’d be sucking the life out of the party if you say no,” Damon said to you. You stopped in the opening of the large garage as you tried to force a frown. Say no, your brain said. “Will you stop bugging me if I say yes?” you said instead.

You were asking for it with that question. You spent the entirety of the morning drinking with Damon and forgot what you were fighting exactly. Maybe you didn’t want to like him because you thought he wouldn’t like you. Maybe you judged a book by its cover. You didn’t remember. You got a first-hand look at the extremity of Damon Salvatore every day afterward. 

AO3

Dorian hated mornings. If he had his way, he’d sleep well past them before he even thought of rising. Lately, though, he was finding things to enjoy about them. Like waking to the feel of Elden running a hand through his hair or placing a kiss to his temple. And the sight of Elden pressed against his side, so warm and sleepy and perfect, always made it well worth opening his eyes despite the painfully bright sunlight streaming in through the window.

Elden was leaning over him now, smiling that dopey grin of his, hair sticking up comically on one side where it had been pressed into the pillow, and Dorian couldn’t help but smile. Elden pressed closer, kissing his lips him gently, and Dorian couldn’t help but marvel at all of this. He never thought he’d ever feel this way, this contentment and joy and love. He had found this amazing, wonderful, aggravating man and he couldn’t be happier.

When Elden pulled away again, Dorian looked up at him with a smile. He was gripped with a sudden urge and he couldn’t help but reach up to run a hand through Elden’s messy hair. Dorian wasn’t trying to fix it or smooth it down, it was already perfect and adorable and instead he encouraged it, sticking it up haphazardly. He loved seeing Elden like this. Everything about him was a marvel. The lengths of his kindness never ceased to amaze Dorian and he wouldn’t want to change a single thing about him.

Elden tried to glare at him as Dorian continued to ruffle his hair, but the grin he was wearing gave him away. He pressed against him, half lying on his chest although careful not to crush, a comfortable weight, and Dorian felt warm and content.

“Are you done making a mess of my hair?” Elden asked, trying not to laugh.

“Not quite,” Dorian replied as he began brushing it forward. “And it was already a mess so I couldn’t possibly do any harm.” He loved the feel of it, the soft, slightly curly, strands slipping through his fingers.

“Well, then, it’s only fair I return the favor,” Elden said as he began running his own hand through Dorian’s hair, although it didn’t take long before he was distractedly brushing it back out of his face, rubbing his fingers gently against Dorian’s forehead and cheek almost wistfully. “It isn’t fair. It’s impossible for you to look anything but perfect. Ruffled hair just looks intentional on you.”

“Well of course,” Dorian replied. “That’s because I’m always perfect.”

He tangled his fingers in Elden’s hair and pulled him down for a kiss, closing his eyes as they both melted into each other. Dorian didn’t mind mornings if this was what he had to look forward to.

salvation in the secular age

requested

background: This is loosely based off of Little Red Riding Hood. It’s sort of a Peter Pan / Little Red Riding Hood cross over. This takes place before any of the characters knew they were fairy tales.

Robbie had always been a strange, strange boy. He sat behind you in your World History class and was very quiet, not talking much or having many friends in school. He was flirty with you to say at least, leaning over the desk to whisper things in your ear, running his fingers through the ends of your hair, or squeezing your waist in the quiet classroom to make you laugh aloud.

What was weird about him was he was entirely obsessed with Peter Pan. Yes, he loved the Disney character but it went way beyond the movie; he spoke as if he’d been to Neverland before, talking about his Lost Boys and Captain Hook. He was a hundred percent serious too, making you always raise an eyebrow with a half-hearted, “sounds cool, Robbie.”

If he was a little bit more… normal, for lack of a better word, you would’ve really liked him.


Tugging on your tomato red pea coat, you grabbed the wicker basket filled with grocery items and made your way out the door and onto the cold Storybrooke streets. Your Mom insisted that you bring groceries to your sick Grandmother who lived right outside of town, and you agreed because even though you didn’t know her very well, the senile old woman still deserved food.

“Hi, (Y/N)!” A voice called out, making you turn around. Henry, a boy who was a few grades lower than you waved from where he sat with a blonde woman. You gave a smile and waved back before turning around and continuing your walk. You’ve only talked to Henry a few times and when you did, he spouted off about his fairy tale book and how you were in it.

“You remind me of Wendy Darling.” He had said, making you laugh.

“Do I?”

“Yeah. See,” he continued, opening his fairy tale book to a bookmarked page. He continued to jabber on about Neverland, when you interrupted him.

“Who would Peter Pan be?”

He faltered before giving a short shrug. “I don’t know. Haven’t figured it out yet. You also kinda remind me of Little Red Riding Hood.”

“Wendy and Riding Hood? I can’t be both.” You teased.

You smiled at the thought, amused by his imagination. Him and Robbie would really get a long, you decided.

The street started crumbling into a dirt road as you got closer to the outskirts of town. It was early evening, and you hoped to be back home before midnight and with the speed you were going, everything seemed to look smooth. You were stopped again as the familiar dirty-blond haired head popped in your line of vision.

“Robbie?” You called out. He perked up at the sound of your voice and met your face with a grin.

“Hey (Y/N).” He greeted, pulling you into an awkward one sided hug. As you pulled back, his arm fell from your shoulders to your waist, resting there. The touch wasn’t unwelcome, but it made you feel… weird. Like butterflies flying in your tummy but trying to escape because they sense fear.

“Where are you off to, love?”

“My Grandmother’s.”

He nodded, keeping his eyes on you. “What’s in the basket?”

“Groceries. She’s sick.” You shrugged.

Robbie nodded again. “Where does she live? I can walk you to and back if you’d like.” You smiled and accepted Robbie’s friendliness.


Robbie smirked to himself as the two of you walked side by side down the wood path. He really liked you and was sure you’d make the perfect first Lost Girl. All he had to do was convince you to leave with him.

“Look at the wildflowers, (Y/N). Aren’t they pretty?”

At the mention of flowers, an idea popped in your head and you ran up ahead to them. You kneeled down, staining your tights with grass stains and started picking the stems into a bunch. Your Grandmother always liked flowers, so bringing a bouquet of them to her would hopefully cheer her up.

Robbie laughed and stood over you, watching. The more time he spent with you, the more dead set he became in taking you back with him. “Here,” he said, pulling the basket off your arm and onto his own. “You keep picking these for your Grandmother and I’ll take this and meet you at her house. I’m sure she’ll love the flowers.”

“Okay.” You agreed standing up. Robbie leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your cheek before continuing down the path. Not thinking much of his overly-friendliness, you spotted some more flowers a little further away and walked towards them, going deeper into the forest. A half hour later, you held an arrange of colorful blooms but suddenly froze as a thought crossed your mind; you had never told Robbie where your Grandmother lived.


Robbie knocked briskly on the door, receiving a shrill, “Who is it?”

 He rolled his eyes. “It’s me, Felix. Open the door.”

Robbie was met with his tall blond friend and slipped through the door, shutting it quickly.

“She should be here soon. Get the old lady out and back to Storybrooke before (Y/N) sees you.” Felix nodded at his orders and went to where your Grandmother slept peacefully in her bed. With Pan’s magic, it wasn’t hard for Felix to transport them soundly out of the house.

Not even a few minutes passed before you pushed the front door open, peaking your head in. “Robbie? …Grandmother?” Nothing but silence responded back.

You shuffled the rest of the way in and hung your coat on the coat hook, setting the flowers on a side table. It looked like the house hadn’t been touched in years, dust settling upon everything you walked passed. The wicker basket sat untouched on the counter top, telling you that Robbie had arrived… but where was he?

“Robbie!” You called out again. Maybe he had gotten tired of waiting and left? It was pretty late outside.

You walked down the hallway and knocked on the bedroom door. Getting no response, you opened it and braced yourself for the worst. You jumped back when Robbie’s broad back was the first thing you saw, your Grandmother no where in sight.

“Robbie? What are you doing in here?”

He turned his head at the sound of your voice and stood up from where he sat on the edge of the bed. Walking closer, you suddenly felt very small against him.

“M'name’s not Robbie,” He whispered. “It’s Peter Pan.”

“For God’s sake, not this again. Seriously, where’s my Grandmother? I didn’t see her when I walked in.”

“That’s because she’s not here. She’s back in Storybrooke.”

Your eyebrows scrunched and you shuffled backwards. If you thought Robbie was weird before, he was really being extra creepy now.

“Funny, Rob. Let’s go look in the living room, she might be watching TV.”

He continued to shake his head, advancing closer to you. You leaned back and went to open the door to slip out but he forced it back shut, holding his hand above your head and leaning into your body with a flirty grin. 

“Come back to Neverland with me.” He whispered.

“Robbie.“ You said bewilderingly. “You’re crazy, let me out.”

“C’mon, Wendy.”

Dont call me that.” You went to push at his shoulders but a loud knock sounded at the front door. The knock distracted him, allowing you to slink out and bolt down the stairs, opening the front door to Henry’s face.

“Hi, (Y/N)!” He greeted again.

“Hey Henry… um, now’s not really a good time. I’m sort of,” You looked over your shoulder, “busy.”

“Well sure, but I just wanted to tell you I figured out who Peter Pan was. You know Robbie Kay? I think he’s in your grade.”

Your breath caught at his words. “Robbie is Peter Pan?”

Henry noticed your disdain. “Well yeah, you two are Peter Pan and Wendy. I thought you liked him?”

A crash came from somewhere in the small cottage, making you jump. “Look Henry I have to go see what R — my Grandmother is doing so we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

Henry nodded and turned to leave but you stopped him.

“How did you know where I was?”

Henry shrugged. “Your Grandma’s from Little Red Riding Hood. I had a feeling.” And with that, he continued walking back in the direction of town.

You slammed the door shut and turned back around to find Robbie leaning against the wall, wearing a cocky smile. “He’s right you know. You are Wendy. If you take my hand, I can prove it.”

You shook your head, still not convinced. As of yesterday Robbie was just the odd boy who sat behind you in class, and now he was declaring you both were fairy tale characters.

Robbie sighed and encouraged you once more by holding his hand out, raising an eyebrow. Did you really have any reason to not trust him? He was odd but never showed you anything but kindness. You hesitantly lifted your hand and when your fingers linked with his, your feet left the ground, literally. Robbie grinned at your shocked face and pulled you through an open window and into the night.

“Ready to leave to Neverland?”

One shaky nod was all he needed before he pulled you up into the sky and over the summer night clouds, to the grand haven of Neverland.


The town of Storybrooke was stunned when they learned about (Y/N) and Robbie running away together. The both of you had been gone for weeks and no body knew if you two would ever come back, calling your phones without success and posting missing signs around town. But Henry knew; neither of you would be returning to the mainland for a long time.

Trouble (Chapter Two)

Originally posted by knightofthefandom

Originally posted by alltheimaginesbro

Chapter One

Summary: Kai Parker is on the run from Damon and Stefan Salvatore and he finds his way to New Orleans, Louisiana thinking that the large supernatural population will hide him in the plain sight when he sees you, a beautiful witch that just so happens to be friends with the Original Family. What are the chances he’ll make his move before Kol Mikaelson can?

—-

“So, were you spying on my family or following Y/n?” He doesn’t waste a second in asking Kai why he was outside their house for a good fifteen minutes. He leans closer, trying to intimidate Kai, Kol lowers his voice. “Both are really bad, so choose wisely.”

Kai stares up at him daringly and when he doesn’t say anything Kol grabs a fistful of his shirt and pulls him closer than before.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.” Kai smirks and raises his hand, slowly forming a fist and giving Kol the biggest headache in his life. He drops Kai and Kai uses his, for lack of a better word, vamp-speed to run ten blocks away and duck into an alley.

Neither of them see you until that afternoon, when you find your way back to your apartment with your nearly bursting bag full of books over your shoulder. Kai is carrying two suitcases into the building just in front of you.  

“You moving in?” You ask. Kai turns around and you recognize him immediately from that morning.

“Yeah, just signed the lease.” Kai smiles.

“You’re Kai, right? We met earlier today.” You remind him as he carries the suitcase up the stairs. Old buildings like the one you lived in didn’t have elevators and instead have four flights of stairs leading to individual floors. You and Kai had both happened to live on the fourth floor.

“Yeah, I gave your pen back. Y/n, yeah?” You nod.

“The last place I lived in had an elevator.” He jokes as he climbs the stairs beside you. You giggle and look above you at the two more flights of stairs you had yet to climb.

“Yeah well, I think this place was built in 1860-something.” You reply. He looks over at you.

“How’d you figure that out?” He asks as you check the time on your phone, still climbing the stairs like you’ve done it a thousand time.

“My friend, well he’s more like my brother, he told me.” You slip your phone back into your pocket as you talk and climb at the same time.

“History buff?” Kai asks.

“Something like that.” You smile and move your hair away from our face. Kai smiles to himself, he knew exactly who you were talking about, he had given that person a colossal headache just six hours ago.

You climb the last flight in silence. The only thing that can be heard is the creaking boards of the stairs and your slightly labored breathing from climbing the stairs in the middle of the summer. The top floor of the building was the hottest, it was separated into two large apartments and there were two windows at either side of the hall. You hold the door open so he can push his suitcases through and then take out your keys from your bag.

“So, how does a college student get an apartment this nice?” Kai asks before you can slip the key into one of the three locks on our door.

“My friend, the history buff, he set it up for me.” You reply as you unlock two out of the tree locks. Kai unlocks his door with his new key.

“Wait, Kai, before you go in.” You nearly strangle your hand as you try to get your phone out of our pocket. He watches you do so with a confused expression.

“Can I give you my number?” You ask him. He doesn’t know if you’re blushing because it’s just that hot or if it’s because you’re nervous. It could be both.

“How are you going to do that with your phone?” He asks, still confused.

“No, it’s really easy. Here, let me see your phone.” You hold out your hand and he puts his phone in your pal hesitantly.

“Now I open the app.. And I…” You tap your phone to his, wait a couple of seconds, and then smile triumphantly as his screen lights up with your number and name on it. You give it back to him, blushing slightly as you unlock the last lock on your door quickly and step inside.

For a second, he stands in the hallway, dumbfounded and staring at his phone in his hand. He looks at your closed door and then back to his phone. He nudges his door open with his foot and pushes the suitcases inside, and then walking through himself, smiling as he stares at the new contact. The picture was of you pulling a silly face, he chuckles slightly. This was going to be fun, dating you, and pissing off an original at the same time. Could it get any better?

Tags- @geminioriginalsimagines @eleventhcenturyoutcastimagines @teengirl72 @nolaimagines @waywardtimemachinejellyfish

On today’s episode of ‘why aren’t we talking about this because this definitely needs to be talked about’: andreil + kisses

  • Andrew kisses Neil’s cheeks after his face is mostly healed; he’ll be scarred and marked for the rest of his life, but the gentle press of Andrew’s lips to his face helps Neil come to turns with that
  • When he’s finally given permission (”yes or no?” “just fucking have your way, josten. i hate you irrevocably, by the way”), Neil leans down and presses his lips to Andrew’s forehead, usually before Neil goes for a run and Andrew, somehow, isn’t up before he is
  • They’re drunk (”c’mon neil, those crazy fuckers aren’t after you anymore! you an spare at least one night of total inebriation!”), and the scotch is low in Neil’s belly and Andrew just feels so good, and when Andrew has him pressed against the wall, hands on his hips and body trapping his, Neil leans into his space, hot breath over Andrew’s admittedly edible lips, and rubs his nose gently over Andrew’s; Andrew scoffs, presses bruising force into his hips and whips out a harsh “402% fucker” (neil notices that when the hate percentage is higher than usual, it means about the exact opposite; Neil counts this as a victory
  • One day they have an especially brutal practice (”kevin for fuck’s sake, if you don’t chill out with these goddamn drills, we won’t be alive to play the next game!”), after they’ve both showered and hauled themselves back to Fox Tower, Andrew wordlessly steers Neil to their bedroom and sits Neil on the edge of the bed, takes Neil’s calloused fingers in his own before gently pulling them apart and up to his mouth, one finger at a time, until each tender finger has been dealt with; Neil watches in bated silence
  • Eden’s Twilight is a living pulse in Neil’s veins; he’s allotted himself a few drinks when they come out, enough to feel the affects but not enough for him to lose his inhibitions; by some sheer act of god, Andrew is out on the dancefloor, and they’re not really dancing so much as slowly and hotly grinding against each other, and Neil licks a hot stripe across Andrew’s neck, Andrew visibly shudders, pushes Neil out of his space and harps about Neil being a “goddamn fucking vampire” but Neil only smiles in triumph 
  • Neil says it first, not like he means to, but it slips out nonetheless; they’re alone for once, everyone else has fucked off and the two of them are spread out on the couch, watching something neither of them could honestly care less about. Neil feels so content, safe, happy, alive, and he’s saying I love you before he can stop himself; Andrew freezes immediately, body tense and a cold gaze on his face. 
  • “what the fuck did you just say?” Neil sits up to look at him. “you heard me. i love y-” “shut up. shut your fucking mouth before i cut your tongue off and feed it back to you.” “i’m not scared of you.” “you should be.” Neil switches tactics. “andrew, you want to keep me safe, yes or no?” “why are you being stupid?” “stop deflecting and answer.” “yes.” “you’re happy that i didn’t leave when the fbi wanted me to, yes or no?” “’happy’ is a very tricky word to use.” “yes or no?” “yes.” “’this’ means something to you, yes or no?” “i haven’t gotten bored of you just yet, so, perhaps.” “you love me too, yes or no?” “323% and going strong” “yes or no?” “fuck you.” but they’re doing talking about this, done using words, when Andrew pulls Neil in by the back of the neck and answers him with a tongue in his mouth, a moan in his throat and a promise burning molten hot between them
How Seventeen Kisses You
  • S.coups: with his arms wrapped around your waist in the middle of the sidewalk
  • Jeonghan: As you sit in his lap while watching movies on a rainy Sunday evening
  • Joshua: kissing your hand in the middle of your cafe date.
  • Wonwoo: stealing a goodbye kiss behind your locker before both of you part ways to go to class.
  • Mingyu: Victory kiss after a great concert performance.
  • Woozi: after a long day and night of work, coming home and sliding into bed and giving you a goodnight kiss while you're sleeping peacefully.
  • Hoshi: after winning an argument asks for a kiss.
  • DK: after being away for a while he See's you and runs at you, picking you up and spinning around kissing you multiple times.
  • Jun: when you get ice cream on your cheek and he leans in and kisses it off.
  • Minghao: when you both wake up Saturday morning and he sleepily leans over and asks for a kiss, trying not to fall back asleep.
  • Seungkwan: after teasingly denying you from kisses finally giving you a peck on the nose.
  • Vernon: watching videos on his laptop on the couch while you fall asleep on his shoulder, he would look over at you and kiss your temple.
  • Dino: he would ask for a kiss and you would say really loud. "YOU WANT TO KISS ME DINO?" so everyone else in Seventeen would hear and tease him but then sneak in a little kiss because look at that face.