they're just back there holding onto each other can they like

“Hey, Barold?” 

“Yes, dear?”

“Are you dead?”

Barry’s head pokes into the dining room table, the Neverwinter Times folded into his hands. He looks down at himself, pokes his own nose. “I don’t think so? I don’t look dead.”

Lup looks him up and down, then says, “Yep, you really don’t.”

“Why?”

In response, Lup takes the package she’s been holding, grabs it by the ends, and turns it on its head. Letters - bundled into packs bound with black ropes, spare ones scratched on torn napkins, envelopes-within-envelopes written in deep dark ink - spill all over the table.

“What are these?”

“Consolation letters,” Lup says, grinning. She plucks the first one off the table, slits it with a brightly-painted red nail, and begins to read. “‘Dear Lup Taaco, my cult and I would like to express our condolences for your loss.’ Aww, that’s so sweet, they’re cult-bonding.”

Barry narrows his eyes. “Is that a necromantic cult or a religious one?”

“Dunno.” She tosses it aside, picks up another one. “‘Dear IPRE, sorry for your loss. We hope Barry feels better soon. We know most people don’t feel better after being dead but he’s done it before.’”

Barry drifts forward, looking at the stack in apprehension and slight awe. He picks one up at random, skims it, and turns white. “Why do these people think I’m dead?”

“Don’t know, but there’s definitely a consensus, babe,” Lup says. “Aww, someone sent a bunch of dead flowers! I’ll pass them onto Merle.”

“Lup, no, this is weird. This - this is weird.”

“Yeah, for sure,” she says, leafing through the next letters. The mound grows intimidatingly the more Barry looks at it. “What did you do?”

“I - I don’t know.”

“Huh. Maybe someone started a dumb rumor. You never know the kinda shit floating around Faerun these days.”

True? Okay. Okay, no, this is just another mystery. Maybe there are clues in the truly preposterous number of letters sitting on the table. Carefully, Barry picks the first one up, a letter wrapped in a satin ribbon and addressed in dark ink so black it almost looks tar. He tears it open gently and sets the envelope aside, then begins to read.

Dear Miss Lup,

I’m really really sorry your husband is dead. I want you to know that my mom and my dad love him too and that if you ever need someone to talk to because death is a really really bad thing then you can send us a letter any time. I’d give you my mom’s frequency but I don’t know it.

Love,

Carnila

Below is an address. It’s from the far east, a remote village that Barry only knows because he passed through there while hunting for Lup a couple of years into his search.

He’s not freaking out so much as very, very confused. He’s certain he’s alive. Pulse beating in his throat and everything. So why does everyone think he’s dead?

He goes through a couple more without finding any clues. Most are of the same vein - sorry for your loss, hope you’re doing better. A couple recommend Lup some therapists in Neverwinter. Two cite him as his inspiration for practicing necromancy. He’s gonna need to pay those fans a personal visit. Probably with his scythe.

“Barry?” Lup says after a little while. She’s set the letters down and is now looking at him strangely.

He opens another one. This one’s written in blue ink. All the others have been black. Really goes to show what kind of person picked Barold J. Bluejeans, lich and necromancer-turned-reaper extraordinaire, as their favorite of the seven birds. “Yes, dear?”

“When you died, you picked up your bodies, right?”

Barry freezes. He thinks back to those ten years on his own, dying repeatedly. He’d had a process - he’d freak out, flicker a little bit, and pull himself together - with admirable speed and courage, of course. Then he’d grab his jeans (can’t leave those behind), a couple hairs, a bunch of blood (which wasn’t typically too hard to collect), the coin, some supplies, and take off for Wave Echo Cave.

He’d leave the body, though. He didn’t need it.

“Barold J. Bluejeans,” she snaps, setting down her letter with a thwack on the table. “Did you leave your corpses strewn all around this continent?”

“I only needed a little blood to make a new body!” he yelps. “I was a lich, it wasn’t like I could pick up my body and carry it with me!”

“You managed to keep the same clothes for ten years!”

“I’ve had these jeans for a hundred years, they’re precious to me!”

“That’s fair,” Lup says, grinning too widely to be angry. “So you’re telling me, these people stumbled across your dead body and thought it was you?”

“Probably,” he replies sheepishly. “I mean, in my defense, I didn’t think anyone would find it. I kinda fell off a mountain range.”

“And you didn’t go collect them when you got an actual body?” she asks, gesturing toward him.

“I was a little busy creating your body.”

Lup sighs, exasperated. She throws an envelope at him. It drifts unimpressively down to the table. “This is it, Barold. This is what you get when you don’t show up at press conferences ever. People start to think you’re literally dead.”

“I hate them,” he mumbles. “Too many spotlights and reporters and questions. I get all sweaty.”

“You’re one of the seven birds, babe. People want to know your story.”

“They already do, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, but they want to hear it from you.” She glances over her shoulder at the Taako Time™ calendar hanging on their wall and grins. “Babe, there’s one tomorrow and you’re going.”

“I don’t wanna,” he whines. “Lup, they…they suck. All the reporters and the microphones and the spotlights….”

“No arguments, dear,” Lup says, standing and crossing her arms over his head to rest her cheek on his hair. “Lucretia hates them too and she goes.”

“She was the Director of the Bureau of Balance, she’s good at that shit now,” Barry grumbles. “Besides, Davenport doesn’t have to answer questions.”

“Davenport’s at sea, babe. Getting to interview him is like finding a Shiny.”

Barry groans, tugs on a strand of Lup’s hair. It’s dyed red toward the ends. “If you loved me you wouldn’t make me go.”

“I love you,” Lup affirms, “so I’m making you go.”

“Can I at least - ”

“No, you can’t wear your tuxedo T-shirt. You have to wear the sweater vest I bought you.”

Barry slumps his head toward the table. Lup slides down his neck to rest her chin on his shoulder. “Cycle forty or sixty-eight,” he asks, words muffled by the table.

“Forty,” she decides. “I won’t make you do sequins.”

“Thank the Queen.” He straightens. There’s ink on his forehead. Lup laughs, then licks a thumb and wipes it away. “Gross.”

The letters flare in the corner of his vision. Sighing, Barry tugs Lup onto his lap. She sits with a laugh, gleeful and teasing, and reaches reaching for a letter of her own. Leaning her temple against his, she slices open another letter, and begins to read.

“Wow, babe,” she says after a couple minutes. “You’re really an inspiration for some up-and-coming dark magic babies.”

“I know,” he sighs. She chuckles and ruffles his hair affectionately. “I’m gonna have to go talk to them.”

Lup’s counterproposal is cut off by her Stone of Farspeech buzzing against her collarbone. She picks up without looking and says “Heyo, Blupjeans household, whaddya want?”

Barold J. Bluejeans!” screeches her brother’s voice through the receiver. Barry jumps. “You wanna explain to me why my dining table is fuckin’ swamped with condolence letters?!

Lup and Barry turn to stare at each other in horror. Then, right on cue, Barry’s Stone rings. He checks it. It’s Magnus’s signal. They stare at it.

“Oh Gods,” Lup groans, and picks up.

Barry? Barry, are you okay?” comes Magnus’s voice. There are a couple of dogs barking in the background, as there always are when Magnus calls. “I heard you were dead, I know it sucks, like, serious ass to be without a body, I wanted to check in, and also tell you that I’ve got a ticket for Neverwinter on hold if you need me down there - ” he says.

Lup and Barry exchange glances. Barry begins to laugh.

anonymous asked:

I'm not a shipper, but @ every shippers who want a canon mlm representation, should stop erasing Keith and Shiro's relationship just because it's notp. Because from the look of it they're the ones that seems to have chance in becoming canon. People are screaming broganes! in every posts to the point of sounding like old homophobes, and even from non shipper's view, it's transparent as fuck. Like it'd be easier if people just admit that KL are not important to each other as people make out to be.

Yes, I agree with you wholeheartedly. The very earliest Voltron interview I heard was before the show even released, and when asked about providing more lgbt rep the way they did with korrasami, Lauren said: “We have those first 13 episodes and if we ever went beyond that, we would like to push the envelope.” Which tells me any gay relationship they planned to expand on has been present right from the start. Add to that comments about how “Keith latches onto Shiro,” “Keith’s always scared he’s gonna say or do something wrong that’ll cause him to lose Shiro,” “He supports Keith one hundred percent, he’s stuck his neck out for Keith a lot,” and “Keith and Shiro have the closest relationship”–if they were ever hinting at anything, I think it’s sheith. 

From onscreen canon interactions, Keith and Shiro’s relationship has always read as romantic to me. And claiming what they have is just brotherly when it’s so obviously different from Matt and Pidge’s dynamic–I just don’t understand it. So many of Keith and Shiro’s scenes are incredibly intimate. They confide in one another, comfort each other, offer physical reassurances and hold each other close. Keith prioritizes Shiro’s safety first and foremost and literally vows to save him, “as many times as it takes.” We see from Keith’s very first scene a tenderness between them that’s never replicated with anyone else. So much of their relationship reads as a veritable fairytale romance. I don’t think that’s an accident. 

It’s really transparent to me when people claim that this season was somehow homophobic for veering further towards allurance or not having Keith interact with Lance?? Like, people are literally claiming the staff don’t care about representation and never had any intention of including it, but?? The crew has already blatantly informed us that it was never their intention to tease Kl/ance, and they directly said they wouldn’t queerbait it. Because it was never there. Fans making serious accusations like this is incredibly transparent–if the only representation that matters to you is your ship, then I think you should reevaluate why. As a bi guy, kl/ance has always made me uncomfortable and I never saw any precedence for it in canon. 

Lauren literally said, “we’re working in animation. Our schedule is so far in advance for that–even if people shipped Keith and Lance, we couldn’t go back and just change the story–to be like and now they’re in love!” When asked about Lance’s future “Mr or Mrs Blue Lion,” Lauren responded exclusively with female pronouns. This isn’t like the bait and switch with building up leader Keith only to throw Shiro back in the pilot seat. Representation is serious, there is no gotcha moment, they’re not continually pushing aside kl/ance so they don’t “ruin the surprise.” 

Representation is a very real concern for Joaquim and Lauren, and they’ve already outright said teasing kl/ance was never their intention. They’re completely against queerbaiting. We’ve been definitively told no. If fans are unable to let go of fanon and refuse to acknowledge the narrative we’ve been given, then that’s on them. But it seems hypocritical to me to claim they were led on when they just refused to listen. As Lauren said: “they start out at odds, but then they grow to kind of respect each other. And if that leads into people being like–they’re spending time together! Then that’s a ‘thing,’ but…We’re not trying to cater to or bait anyone into anything, we’re just trying to do what’s right for the story.”

And I’ve seen people claim–but, kl/ance is so popular! The fans love it so much, they shouldn’t discount it just yet! Things can change! And it’s incredibly clear to me that those fans are naive in their understanding of the animation industry. Joaquim said this best: “There’s just no way. We’re already years past that storyline, you know?” He and Lauren outright confirmed they can’t go back and make kl/ance canon, because the decision to do so would’ve had to have been made years ago. Animation is not a medium conducive to major change. That’s just something fans will have to learn to accept. 

Lauren and Joaquim really seem like they actually care and they’re fighting for more representation. That means something to me. And if people expect me to feel sorry for fans who harass them simply because they didn’t make their OTP canon and are trying to focus on their own narrative, then they don’t know me. If it’s representation fans are concerned about and not just ships, then they shouldn’t see kl/ance as the only viable source for it. I’m sorry if people were disappointed and wanted representation in another form, I really am. I understand, I do. But I don’t think it’s fair to tear down the creators for it when they’re trying their best and act like kl/ance was somehow our only chance. 

anonymous asked:

The group going on ice cream dates with their s/o?

Me: a sucker for ice cream dates. Thank you so much for this request, please enjoy!


Akira:

  • Akira will likely share with S/O, since he doesn’t eat too much himself.
  • They’ll merely order a milkshake or share a cone.
  • He likes most ice cream flavors, so he’s chill with anything. Coffee has a special place in his heart, though. 
  • He’s definitely willing to try new flavors. a great bf
  • When they drink the milkshake simultaneously, they’ll stare at each other until Akira winks at them or waggles his eyebrows.
  • S/O just giggles and blushes, and Akira thinks it’s so cute that he’ll just lovingly kiss their forehead or poke their nose. 
  • “Gotcha.” help i’ve fallen for him and i refuse to get up
  • He always offers the cherry to S/O, but sometimes the vendor will give them two.
  • They will compete to see who can tie the stem with their tongue the fastest. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
  • Don’t let them share a cone. They’ll smear each other with ice cream because they are children.
  • If S/O gets ice cream on their mouth, Akira will take his time kissing them, then he’ll slowly lick his lips.
  • “Mm, tasty,” he purrs, his icy lips barely brushing S/O’s.
  • Join S/O and I as we have heart attacks.
  • Akira just cannot help but tease them; despite that, he’s incredibly sweet.
  • If S/O begins to shiver from consuming the ice cream, he’ll wordlessly throw his jacket around them.
  • When they goof off, the ice cream will sometimes fall over. S/O attempts to pay for another but he always interferes and pays instead.
  • He loves it when they ramble and then stop mid-sentence just to lick the ice cream or drink the milkshake.
  • He can’t help but smile fondly.


Ryuji:

  • Ryuji’s going to do the thing.
  • You know, the thing where you offer food to your babe and bait them into a kiss.
  • He snickers every time, and S/O just plants a kiss right on his lips.
  • “You could have just asked, dork.”
  • The heat from his face melts the ice cream.
  • He’ll enthusiastically add toppings for S/O.
  • “You gotta try this. Oh, and this too. C’mon, eat up! I’ll pay, so don’t worry about it.”
  • The dessert ends up consisting of roughly 90% of toppings.
  • “Oops. Guess I got a little carried away.” god i just wanna
  • He’s so adorable that S/O cannot hinder themself from kissing his cheek. “It’s perfect, babe. Thank you.”
  • Rest In Pistachio, Ryuji Sakamoto.
  • Since, these two go on a massive sugar rush after they eat, they usually have ice cream at the park so they can run around and play.
  • He would die for Spaghettieis.
  • Ryuji has a very child-like palette, so he’d probably enjoy an ice cream float or a few scoops of vanilla with an obscene amount of gummies and candies.
  • You do you, Ryuji. 


Ann:

  • Ann will eat her portion and S/O’s.
  • Well, she would if they offered.
  • They’ll link arms and eat their ice cream cones like that while they stroll around the city.
  • Sharing is a part of their routine, since they love testing out the new flavors.
  • “Babe, you have to try this.”
  • “It’s good, but it’s not as sweet as you,” S/O replied.
  • “…You’re cheesy as ever,” Ann sighed, playfully dolloping ice cream on their nose. “But you’re pretty sweet too.” i love her? i love her.
  • If Ann is dieting, they’ll get shaved ice, smoothies, or maybe a bit of fro-yo to satisfy her sweet tooth. 
  • They’ll even share one serving, and Ann will give her best effort to restrain herself so that S/O can enjoy it too. 
  • If they get tired of walking, they’ll relax on a bench and eat while leaning on each other.
  • Ann loves topping her ice cream with cake, whipped cream, and mochi.
  • Her favorite flavor would be birthday cake or strawberry shortcake. me too
  • She loves treating S/O, even when they protest.
  • They go on ice cream dates once a week, and they explore everywhere in Tokyo on a quest to find The Best ice cream.
  • Vendors will sometimes give them extra toppings free of charge because they’re just so cute and silly together.


Yusuke:

  • Remember that ice cream vendor that made several cameos in my writings?
  • If you don’t, it’s Yusuke’s and S/O’s favorite go-to for dates.
  • The reason for that is because he loves to decorate his ice cream with the wide variety of toppings. he’s too cute i’m
  • He garnishes it so beautifully that he doesn’t want to eat it.
  • S/O has to convince him since it’s just going to melt and he should just enjoy art in its rawest form.
  • You can bet that they make puns together.
  • “Yusuke, you really topped it all off with the mochi. I am dairy impressed with such cool piece.”
  • “You are very sweet. I am glad it’s to your taste.” They marry each other on the spot.
  • The first time S/O tried to spoon-feed him, confusion was written all over his face.
  • “But S/O, I already have my own portion. I am not greedy enough to deny you your own. We must indulge in such simple pleasures-” 
  • Step 1: Try not to kiss him.
  • S/O has failed step 1.
  • After the kiss: “Hm, that is a… delectable flavor.” He smirks slightly. “Would you think less of me if I requested seconds?” 
  • Boy’s got game, I tell you what.
  • They share their ice cream to experiment with flavor combinations and how they compliment each other.
  • His favorite flavor would probably be something like red bean or green tea.


Makoto:

  • Makoto and S/O wouldn’t go on ice cream dates too often since she’s very health-conscious.
  • She’ll likely order french vanilla, mint chocolate chip, or sherbet.
  • She’s quite fond of the flower-shaped ice cream.
  • S/O will offer her a small bite of theirs so she can try it.
  • Makoto’s eyes widen. “That’s… quite a bit of sugar. Will you really be okay eating that?”
  • “Probably not, but what matters is the experience.”
  • She just chuckles. “You’re absolutely right. Perhaps I should indulge a little, too.”
  • She feels queasy after a few licks. bless her
  • “M-maybe I’ll just stick to my usual order…”
  • S/O has to finish off her ice cream and take care of her.
  • Nighttime is when they have their ice cream dates because they can relax on a bench outside and watch the stars twinkle.
  • They hold hands and kiss cheeks, discussing how much they enjoy the other’s company. i’m not crying
  • ‘Bella Notte’ echoes in the distance.


Futaba:

  • Futaba’s ideal ice cream date is nabbing a few pints from the grocery store and relaxing with S/O while playing games.
  • However, if they go out, they’ll order banana splits or sundaes and see who can finish theirs first.
  • Needless to say, their dates end with brain-freeze or stomachaches.
  • They’ll rub each other’s backs and mope together.
  • They agree that it’s worth it, and whoever loses has to treat the other next time.
  • She won’t share. She’ll probably steal some of S/O’s ice cream if they’re not paying attention.
  • If S/O pouts, she might share. they’ll have to look extra cute
  • These two inhale so much ice cream that the manager of the shoppe they frequent developed a meal challenge for them.
  • Futaba and S/O think it’s hilarious, so they’ll migrate to different shoppes to test if the other managers adopt a meal challenge.
  • She loves to clasp onto S/O’s arm when she’s full.
  • “Ugh, I think I’m gonna die,” she complains. This is one of the rare times she lost. 
  • S/O kisses her head. “There’s always a price to be paid.” When they glance at her, and she’s wearing a weary expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for this one.”
  • She peeks at them from under her eyelashes. “S/O… I’ll never forget the sacrifice you’ve made.” 
  • Critical hit to the heart.


Haru:

  • Haru would adore ice cream dates with S/O.
  • Even more so if they’re having a picnic.
  • She’s very indecisive when ordering; she just wants to try everything.
  • Flavors like wasabi, squid ink, and purple sweet potato are so intriguing to her; she just can’t help herself. 
  • “S/O, would you like to try some?”
  • S/O can’t say no to her because she’s so earnest, so they take the plunge. do it for her
  • They just cry internally and force themself to maintain a straight face. “It’s… interesting.” 
  • Haru nods eagerly. “Yes, it’s very unique! I quite like it, myself.”
  • S/O watches in amazement as Haru happily licks her ice cream with no qualms.
  • Just what power level is she?!
  • She’s one of those people that can eat ice cream with their front teeth.
  • When they arrive at their picnic destination, they lay out a blanket and snuggle next to each other.
  • Both of them hum together since they’re so blissful while eating.
  • Hey Heaven you seem to have dropped an angel.

ambitiouswitch17  asked:

Imagine Tony don't liking to be close/being touched by Steve after CW but the guys keeps insisting until Natasha calls him out on it (Protective Natasha, please!)

Oh, I like it! I struggle a lot with Nat’s role in CW (to be fair, I struggle with everyone’s roles in CW), but I’m gonna try :) Here goes nothing: 

It doesn’t start in New York. By the time they finally get back to New York–it takes three months longer than Natasha initially expected–she’s already close to the end of her rope, only the merciless training of her childhood keeping her from completely losing it. Because Wakanda may be a nice place, a pleasant exile even, but she has to spend five months listening to Lang’s whining, Clint’s endless complaints, Steve’s tragically upset stares into nothingness–or at a phone that doesn’t ring, and really, she could’ve told him that from the start–and Wanda’s temper tantrums.

Also the amount of biting replies she swallows down ought to have killed her by now. They were poisonous enough for sure.

So getting back to New York, to their old compound, is a relief. It means Natasha can avoid the others for weeks if she tries–and boy does she try, she’s seen far too much of them lately. It helps. The lack of a golden cage helps all of them, eases some of the tension, but it doesn’t solve any of their problems.

And there are problems, and not just between Tony and the others, or her and the others either. There are a lot of issues that have never been resolved, arguments they couldn’t have when they were all scooped up in Wakanda and unable to stay out of each other’s way for long. Coming back, signing documents that are pointedly not called The Revised Accords, it’s like slapping a bandage on an inflamed wound so you don’t have to look at it anymore, and hope it will heal.

But every now and then they accidentally brush against said untreated wound and the pain flares up again, reminding everyone that it’s there and it’s staying.

Like when Clint calls Laura and she lets it go to voicemail. Or when Sam tries to ask about how Rhodey is doing without making it awkward, and fails spectacularly. Or when Tony flinches away from Steve.

It’s only the last one though that really gets Natasha’s blood boiling. It’s there right from the start, when Tony symbolically shakes Steve’s hand, and even though he’s smiling, his body is all tense muscles ready to jump. It doesn’t get better after that.

There are moments where Steve tries to reach out that are almost physically painful to watch. When he rests a hand on Tony’s shoulder and the poor man almost jumps out of his skin for example (they’ve lost a lot off cups to that particular move). Or when Steve always picks the seat closest to Tony, only to have Tony be tense and defensive thorough the whole meeting. The list goes on.

Steve isn’t doing it out of cruelty, that much Natasha is willing to grant him. He’s honestly, desperately trying to fix things between them, bridge the unacknowledged gap in the team. He’s apologised multiple times–and he’s meant every word of it. But the thing is? Regret isn’t going to change the past.

And Steve, Steve is so focused on fixing, he doesn’t even seem to realise that all he really does when using force, is break. Because it’s so clear, written all over Tony’s face and body language, how uncomfortable he is, and yet Steve keeps pushing and pushing, for a resolution that can’t happen by backing Tony into a corner.

The issue comes to a head when Steve tries to hand Tony a plate with a piece of apple pie. It’s an innocent enough action on the surface, but Natasha can see Tony literally freezing in place. And really, it’s anything but innocent in every way that matters.

“Grow up, Stark!” Clint mutters from somewhere behind her, and really, that’s not helping. She’s going to kick his ass for that later. “Just take the damn plate!”

Tony doesn’t though. His wide eyes flicker back and forth between the plate Steve’s holding out with a pleading expression and the door he’s probably thinking of escaping. Being put on the spot like that only makes it worse, makes the slight tremble in his hands more visible and Natasha’s had enough.

“Give me that!” she snaps, rips the plate out of Steve’s hand and throws it onto the ground. The plate shatters. Steve gapes at her but she doesn’t even let him get the question out. “I’m sick of this shit you’re pulling here!” she continues in a righteous fury that’s been building up for six months. 

“You need to back up, Steve! I don’t care how many times you’ve tried to reach out to Tony, you don’t have a right towards his friendship or his trust and you’ve done fucking shit to earn it! You need to learn to respect his feelings instead of bulldozing past them just because they don’t happen to suit you! Because you know what happens when you push? This!” She points at the mess of pie and shards at her feet. “And you know what you do when you make a mess? You apologise and clean it up! And you don’t use force to do it!”

She’s breathing hard by the end of her rant, but when she turns around to face Tony, the hesitant smile on her face is genuine. “Let’s get out of here,” she says, and it’s a question filled with all the things she hasn’t been able to voice.

Tony doesn’t reach for her the way he used to, stays out of her reach, but he smiles, just as hesitantly, and nods. “Lead the way,” he says, and they’ve got a lot to talk about and even more to work through, but it’s a start.

“Aren’t you gonna clean that up?” Clint yells somewhere behind them. Natasha doesn’t even bother to turn around.

“I haven’t seen anyone else taking responsibility for the mess they’ve made,” she throws over her shoulder with all the sugary pleasantness of a Black Widow about to reveal her true face. “Why should I?”

There’s no answer but then she didn’t expect one anyways.

Sequel to my Dadstiel Halloween fic Tears for Fears. Boo!

2k.

Castiel sleepily sips at his morning coffee, still not yet fully awake. The kitchen counter is thankfully solid at his back, supporting the whole of his weight as he leans against it. His robe splays casually open over his bare chest and his bunched-up boxers, but he isn’t cold despite the temperature outside. His eyelids droop and his hair is surely a mess.

He’d stayed up last night with Claire, plagued by a serious fear of going to sleep. Ironically, Jack slept soundly through the night.

He’s the first to wake, as usual. He shuffles into the kitchen and immediately takes his place at the breakfast table, smiling up at Castiel. 

“Good morning,” he says, ever polite.

Castiel yawns. “Good morning,” he slurs back. On auto-pilot, he swings around and grabs the box of cereal he keeps on top of the refrigerator. He sets it on the table in front of Jack and then opens the cabinets in search of a bowl. It’s his own house, and still he has trouble locating the dishes; he has to open several cabinets before he finds the one he’s looking for.

“How did you sleep?” Castiel asks, fishing the milk out of the fridge.

Jack’s smile widens. “Great.”

“Good.”

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montponine  asked:

they don't start "dating" so much as they just. fall into a relationship and all of a sudden they're holding hands and spending a lot of time together and kiSSING(!?) and neither of them really knows when it started but they don't care. james says i love you to everyone bc he's v affectionate but when he says i love you to lily it's Different and everyone can hear it it's not i love you it's I Love You every time no matter how small the scenario it's always I Love You

James is pretty sure he’s been in love with Lily Evans since the beginning of fifth year but then he realises that’s not love because you can’t love someone you don’t know. She’s just very very very attractive. Then the Incident happens and he doesn’t know how he feels and Lily is even more in the dark because they were friends except for when he was a cock but now all she feels when she looks at him is burning burning burning.

The summer cools her off and she doesn’t expect him when she gets back. Well, she does, she just doesn’t expect so much of him. He’s grown, again, and she’s not sure if he’ll ever stop, and it suits him. There’s less tripping and squeezing under desks. Finally, he seems able to actually control all of his limbs. He can’t control his eyes though. James finds them wandering to her during lessons, lunch, once even a quidditch match. She’s so easy to spot with wine red hair and eyes which don’t seem to want to meet his, but do anyway. She keeps noticing things about him, things that weren’t there before. Or maybe she just never let herself notice them before? It happens all the time and she hates that she loves it.

It’s easy. Being friends. Like picking up a book your mum used to read to you at bedtime. You think you’ve forgotten the words, but they all come flooding back. That’s how it feels. To have his arm over her shoulders, to duel with him in DADA, to steal toast from his plate, to save the strawberry botts for her, to watch him and only him on the pitch, to share Potions notes, to throw parchment notes at each other in History of Magic, to borrow his scarf, to hold her hand to help her across boggy Scottish soil. All of it, everything - it’s natural.

People start assuming they’re together. They stop being Lily Evans and James Potter and become Lily and James, addressed as one. Sirius rolls his eyes and becomes bitter, interrupting conversations and not moving to allow Lily a seat. Mary and Marlene giggle and wink at her whenever she sits besides him, the traitorous gits. Everyone knows something is up. Except for them.

Then it’s summer again and he’s so far away and she’s too far away and they write. They write too much to go unnoticed, by friends and then by parents. Mrs Evans try to be nonchalant as she asks who all these owls are from. Mr Potter ruffles James’ hair when Sirius points out that James is spending more time replying to letters then he is playing quidditch. There’s talk of meeting up, but it never happens. Lily never quite manages to draw up the courage to tell James which bus route to take. James always fails to write down where the spot for apparating to is. So they go all summer never seeing each other, except in familiar g’s and friendly scribbles which Lily has to spend ages deciphering into something legible.

September comes and they’re both wearing their badges and neither one is surprised but both are slightly hurt the other didn’t mention it. Excuses are useless so they just say well done and attempt to organise the prefects, even though Remus spends the whole meeting making suggestive gestures at one of them when the other isn’t looking. And nothing has changed. Except James is taller, again, and Lily’s hair is shorter and her boobs are bigger (but James definitely hasn’t noticed that), but they’re the same. No one blinks twice when they’re the only two left in the common room. Everyone is used to seeing them together, heads bent close, people uncertain if they’re discussing rotas or the latest transfiguration journal. It becomes customary that if Lily’s the only one on a sofa, the other half is reserved for James. If James falls asleep with her head in her lap, there’s nothing unusual about it.

People call them a couple and they don’t think to correct them, not having discussed it but sort of knowing anyway. She kisses him goodbye outside the Three Broomsticks once, a peck on the cheek, the Marauders going onto Zonko’s and the girls visiting Honeydukes. He blushes but she doesn’t and then that’s a thing too. It doesn’t take long before the kisses are on the forehead, the nose, the lips. Always gentle, quick and not really anything of note except, every time lips brush skin, their hearts race faster. So no one’s surprised when, with the excuse of mistle toe, a short and swift kiss becomes a long, soft and languid one. (Until Peter throws a cushion at them.)

They’re dating, going out, boyfriend and girlfriend. They’re every synonym for together and they’re happy. Every inch of them says ‘I love you’, but they never say it. And then they do. And it just happens, and their hearts beat faster, and their breath comes short, but they’re not surprised. They know, everyone knows, how could they not be in love? James says it first, casually and then not casually at all. Lily says it back, into his neck, his lips, his heart, both of them smiling like they’ve been given the sun on a string.

So they’re in love and it’s a shred of light in a world which keeps getting extinguished around them. They’re not sure how or when it happened but it did and when they have nothing they have each other, because that’s just how it is.

EXO POWER | ANALYSIS | THEORIES

Hey hello, so I’m feeling smart today and have been thinking about some theories, or maybe just observations?? I mean idek what this posts is so let’s just beging.. get cozy ladies and gentleman this is me using my brains: 

Originally posted by vivihun

So the intro to Power is as followsi hope i got it right jskjsksj  + my weird analysis

“The Universe has transformed, distorted space has been re-assemblebled, warped time has been reset, and the unpurified red force -incomprehensible, kind of like bruised or induced?- two suns with darkness… oh wait, this isn’t the right place for today, is it? hmm nah, not here, oh cute but not here…”

Naturally, it talks about the red forces and we can see someone with their hands wide open in a dark cloak, two suns losing their brightness.

Now it obviously is someone signifying the red forces but what surprised me is that its cloak is really similar to the one the boys used in Mama. 

And, like Mama, it talks about two suns which only means there are two fairly similar parallel universes. And Mama also talks about time, remember: “the legends hereby divide the three in half and hide each side, hence time is overturned and space turns obscure…” and then it goes onto how the legends divided and created two suns that look alike and careless careless shoot anonymous

there are two suns, TWO SUNS, what we saw in Power, but what is so odd is that it mentions how time is reset and the space re-assembled, you would think that is good right? but I suppose it only happens when the legends come together, and remember, the suns are still dark and the red forces unpurified. meaning it hasn’t ended, I assume the war with the red forces, so either time and space are worst than before or they’re starting to get better.

But there’s something else, it says the red forces are unpurified so that means they were pure once right? or that they can become pure… which brings me to this: maybe Baekhyun is the one trying to purify them. Them or whatever turns dark. Why? Because he’s light.

Originally posted by luedeer

And doesn’t he always sacrifice himself? We saw it in the MAMA performance actually called the sacrifice. Baekhyun is the only one whose light didn’t turn blue, wasn’t purified. his was red, he was the sacrifice.

And in Monster he’s the one that helps them out too, he’s undercover and seems to hold a “high position”, I would say, in the side of whoever captured exo, and he risked it anyway, to help them free 

Originally posted by bucheonqt

But it could also mean another thing. Maybe Exo really did become “monsters”, as in they turned dark and kind of evil, and Baekhyun releasing them represents him “purifying” them. Which brings me onto something else, which is so stupid but whatever let me think for once  ..maybe Exo can become evil too, like the red forces (or are they the red forces???) and that’s why the red forces want them. That’s why Baekhyun protects them, maybe because he’s light and can never be devoured by darkness. 

Also in Power, at the end, he’s falling.

Originally posted by baekhyunsama

Does that mean he sacrificed himself then, too?  And, did you see that key??? I may be a little crazy and I may or may not have been crying at the end of the MV but I saw it .

And you know what it looks like?

That’s right my type the fucking caduceus, symbol of a doctor. And what is a doctor? A healer. And who is a haler? Lay. And what is Lay? Yixing. And what Is Yixing? Love. And what is love?? OT-FUCKING-9

OKAY maybe I went a bit overboard but there’s a possibility!!! But why the key? Is Yixing the key? (not actually lmao) Or is he trapped somewhere and that is the key that’ll set him free.? And if it is, who trapped him? The red forces?? And is that why Baekhyun feel back to earth I guess?? To get him back?? 

Anyway, moving on after the intro…

Which I really liked , let’s show some love to the intro!! Well, the narrator said something like this isn’t the right place for today and moved on to show different scenes. 

This had me thinking. Maybe each of Exo’s songs is from a different, parallel universe/planet and that’s why they’re so diverse. How awesome is that? They can jump from one reality to another, I guess, so may be Wolf will have a comeback :’) Gasp. maybe that’s why some songs have some elements from anothers (cbx in the one and ka ching), because they’re a very similar reality to the original one! that or sm is running out of ideas lmao jk I love 

So then there’s the tunnel and claw like machine

Now the part of the tunnel thingy I dONT understand much? I mean, like the point of it? idk but it was really cute and well made kudos and let’s appreciate.

However, the machine. mhmmm is it suppose to signify the red forces? I mean it was red. 

And there’s more. The machine, in it’s claw, it had their orbs of power. And it used them.

Does that mean that the red forces found a way to activate their powers? Are the spheres the powers though. Or do the guys just need them to activate them? 

And it’s funny, how they used the guns and just shot everywhere. and I mean everywhere, it seemed they didn’t know how to used them.

Originally posted by exoturnback

I mean, he almost shot Kyungsoo lmao.

But then there’s Kai…

Originally posted by intokai

he knows what he’s doing and he looks damn good doing it huhuh. And I think it’s maybe because his power (teletransportation) doesn’t usually aid him in battle other than defense so he normally uses weapons while the others use their powers. hence the others look wrecked af (and cute af)

There’s more. remember that I said the machin had the orbs? Well why didn’t he have Baekhyun’s? Is it really because he’s light? 

My mom helped me out a bit on this one lmao. I think the cat is Baekhyun’s “orb”, that’s why the machine didn’t have it and it said in the teasers it couldn’t be retrieved. 

Now the cat

The kitten had an L in it. Many think it’s for Lay, and it could be but I’m holding to my idea about the key lmao. There’s the theory that the kitten represents us, ExoL. And if yes, that’s SO FREAKING CUTE. 

Originally posted by grinding-on-baek

you see that fucking look and smile istg he was thinking about exoL like that one time in the take you home mv this idiot melts my heart hskdkajdh

Get this.. the kitten is Baekhyun’s orb, it’s his light. Is that supposed to mean we, ExoL, are Baekhyun’s (and exo’s) light? And if it does, maybe that has something to do with For Life I know crazy, but remember when Chanyeol enters in that room?

Originally posted by pathkode

It’s suddenly full of lights I believe used to represent our lightsticks and, in turn, us!

There’s also this funny think my mom said. When the kitten presses the button

she said it’s like when you play a game in an arcade and it’s funny because Power is all about character cards and that.

So maybe Exo’s just playing a game with their avatars lmao that’s so random

Originally posted by jonginssoo

ANYWHO… That’s been long and quite long omggg sORRY but what I do want to say is please do appreciate Power, it’s fresh and light and different and beautiful, not to mention, I do believe our boys had a blast while recording the MV and are very proud of it, we should be too!!

Stream Power.

Cry to Sweet Lies.

Party to Boomerang. 

Originally posted by xiundeer

anonymous asked:

Hey my dude can I get a fic or some headcanons of bill being super horny ALL THE TIME so he's constantly dragging Stan off to anyplace to makeout and the losers all yell at them when they're eventually caught

your wish is my command

one

Bill’s grip was tight around his waist as Stan sat in the v of his legs attempting to play monopoly with the rest of the losers. 

“Who’s even winning at this point?” Eddie complained, contemplating throwing the small amount of cash he had into the air and giving up.

“Mike, definitely.”

Mike grinned in response as everyone else groaned and sank to the floor. Before Stan could interject (he was the banker, it was kind of his job), Bill nuzzled into his neck and whispered, “follow m-me to the buh-bathroom in five minutes.”

Keep reading

hoot-eggs  asked:

Can I ask for how UT, UF Sans and US Paps react to their crush coming into their room and slips under the covers and doesn't say a word when the skelly wakes up but their crush starts tearing up because they just really needed a hug and hopes the skelly doesn't see them as a burden?♡ Thanks so much!!

(* No problem!  And might I say, thank you for all the likes.  It makes me so happy that you’re enjoying these! <3 )

UT!Sans:

Sans doesn’t even wake up when you crawl into bed with him.  He shifts toward the new warmth, and snuggles in deeper under the covers, becoming a tangled mess of limbs with you.  It takes a moment, but slowly, he becomes aware that something’s off about his bed, and he starts to wake up.  By the time his eyelights find your teary eyes, he has to blink several times to make sure he’s really awake, that you’re really in both his bed and his arms.  

… He didn’t drink too much at Grillby’s last night, did he?  

He feels the slight tremble in your body, and he can’t help but respond to the way your arms tighten around him.  He’s observant enough to know that you’re upset, and his SOUL clenches at the thought.  "you ok, buddy?“  His voice is still thick with sleep, and he’s a little groggy, but he holds onto you tightly.  Did something happen?  Was it his fault?  His mind is racing, trying to play back everything that’s happened recently, but he’s drawing a blank.  "it’s ok.  everything’s all right.”  They’re the words he always wanted to hear himself, so they’re the only way he knows how to help.  Well, that and just staying like you are, holding onto each other.  

He gently presses his teeth to your temple in a comforting skeleton kiss and reiterates, “everything’s all right.”

UF!Sans:

Red is instantly awake the second you enter his room, so as soon as you pull back the covers, his eyelights are alert and on you.  He’s tense because no one just comes into his room without warning for anything good, but.. when he realizes it’s you, he relaxes, a grin spreading across his face.  Heh.  He must still be dreamin’; why else would you be sliding in close and holding onto him?  Instantly, his arms are around you, pulling you against his chest, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.  "i could get used to this, ya'know?  feel free to wake me up like this more often.“  He sounds pleased, his smirk evident in his voice.  

He starts to fall back asleep, perfectly content to be tangled with you, when he feels something damp against his cheek.  Automatically, he freezes.. and slowly pulls back to look at your face.  He glimpses the tears and internally starts cursing.  Why didn’t he notice something was wrong immediately?  "sweetheart…?”  His voice is unsteady and soft, a stark contrast to its usual gruff tone.  "hey, what’s the matter, huh?  don’t cry, ok?“  

You don’t have to explain anything to him.  Red gathers you close and rocks gently in the bed, lightly rubbing his hand along your back.  After a while, he starts to hum, the sound vibrating through his ribs, and he hopes that it’ll help lull you to sleep.  In his experience, Bad Nights tend to ease up in the mornings.  And he’ll stay like that with you for as long as you need.  

US!Papyrus:

Stretch grunts when he feels the bed shift.  He’s unconcerned with who it could be since he’s used to Blueberry winding up in his bed if his brother ever has a nightmare.. however, when he feels your arms wind around him, he knows it’s not his brother, and he’s suddenly wide awake.  It takes him a second longer than usual to process what’s happening, but when he does, he slides an arm around your shoulders and tries to locate a clock.  Whatever time it is feels too early to be sentient.  "hey hun.  so what’re yo–”  The query dies in his throat.  He notices something’s amiss right away, and he immediately rolls onto his back and pulls you halfway onto his chest.  Both of his arms wind around you.  "hey, what’s wrong?  you didn’t have a nightmare, did you?“  The question is light, though his lazy grin is lop-sided.  He’s trying not to make a big deal out of it because he doesn’t want you to feel like you’re being a bother.

“shh, it’s ok.  i’m right here.  just relax.”  The phalanges of one hand stroke the back of your head, while his other hand lazily skims along your back.  He won’t pressure you to talk about it; he’ll hold onto you as long as you want.  Though, later, he’ll casually mention that he’s always around if you need to talk, no matter what time it is.  

anonymous asked:

how each of the rfa members would react to mc being pouty and asking them for a piggy back ride? like maybe they're walking somewhere and she gets tired? xD

A/N: I don’t give people piggy back rides I usually just pick the person up when they least expect it and keep walking like i doNT HAVE TIME TO STOP WE GONNA GET GOING ILL JUST CARRY YOU THE REST OF THE WAY ~Admin 404

*YOOSUNG:

           -The two of you ask each other at the same time

           -He wants a piggy back ride too, MC!! ;A;

           -buT HE FEELS SO HONOURED YOU’D ASK HIM

           -HE’S GONNA BE A MAN, AND CARRY HIS BELOVED, HELL YEAH!

           -You don’t even have to pout for long, he’ll do it for you because??? He’s gotta prove to you he’s not a cute little kid

           -Though he complains like a little kid

           -10 minutes into the ride, he’s slowing down, dragging his feet, and complaining

           -“MC, you aren’t heavy, I’m just…tired, I promise”

           - where’s your arm strength Shooting Star?? i thought you were a big strong warrior

           -Seriously, you have to carry him further than he carried you, but he absolutely loves every minute of it

*ZEN:

           -You don’t have to ask him twice

           -So happy to give you a piggyback ride!!

           -He thinks you’re so cute

           -He would have let you pout a little just to see your cute little face, but!! Couldn’t bring himself to do it

           -Plus, this gives him a chance to show you how easily he can hold you

           - totally not trying to show off his strength

           - feel my muscles mc

           -He’ll put you down whenever you want, but would rather not

           -It doesn’t matter where you are, if you ask, he is carrying you in a heartbeat

           -LOVES IT EVEN MORE IF YOU FALL ASLEEP WHILE HE CARRIES YOU OMG MC SO CUTE

*JAEHEE:

           - She will suPLEX YOU IF YOU ASK HER TO

           -It actually takes a lot of pouting and begging to get her to pick you up

           -“MC, you’re an adult, can’t you walk?”

           - but i dont wwwaaaaannnnnaaaaaa

           -Sometimes she’ll give you a piggy back ride just because she’s tired of hearing you ask

           -But only around the house, MC, we’re adults

           -Once you tried to surprise her and jump on her back but it didn’t go well AT ALL

           -Meaning the both of you fell flat on your faces

           -From then on, you try not to jump onto her

           -Because of that though, she’ll be more lenient about carrying you, just, don’t knOCK HER DOWN AGAIN PLEASE

*JUMIN:

           -In public, don’t even think about it

           -But at home? y e s

           -He’ll give you a piggy back ride all around the penthouse

           -Scratch that, all around the building

           -It’s childish but the look on your face is so cute!!!

           -He can’t help himself! The smile on your face makes him so happy

           -The first time you brought it up, however, was a no-go

           -You had to pout for h o u r s until he finally agreed

           - lowkey only made you pout that long because it was cute

           -Sometimes he refuses to put you down. He’ll talk to anyone who walks up to him completely calm and collected, as if you aren’t hanging off of his back

*SAEYOUNG:

           - tackles you for a piggy back ride first

           -He usually picks you up and carries you around anyway

           -So you wanting a piggy back ride is no problem for him!!!

           -LOVES WHEN YOU RANDOMLY JUMP ONTO HIS BACK FOR ONE

           -Although sometimes you aren’t sure why you bother

           -Because he likes to hold you hostage

           -You want down? Too bad, he’s got a tight grip on your thighs

           -The door frame has been broken a few times from you holding onto it when he walks through

           -HE ALSO RUNS DOWN THE FREAKING STREET WITH YOU ON HIS BACK

           -Once tried to Naruto run with you on his back and both of you hit the wall, Saeran filmed the whole thing

*V:

           -If MC wants a piggy back ride, MC gets a piggy back ride

           - has tried to take pictures of the two of you and has failed

           -It happens a lot, especially when the two of you go on hikes

           -He get to hold the camera and take whatever pictures you want while he carries you

           -You never have to pout to get him to carry you

           -He can’t handle the pout!!! He feels so bad!!

           -Sometimes, he’ll ask you to get onto his back so you can get a picture for him

           -Always so gentle with you! He’ll kneel so you can get down softly instead of just jumping off

           -He avoids any place with low ceilings or door frames, so you don’t hit your head

           -Please just ask him for a piggy back ride, MC, you literally have nothing to lose

*SAERAN:

           -What, are your legs broken?

           -No MC I’m not gonna give you a piggy back ride

           -A lot of pouting is needed to make him change his mind

           -Go ahead MC, pout for days, he loves it

           -Seriously, the only way you can get a piggy bag ride from him is to jump onto him

           -At first it was a bad idea to jump on him, because you scared him and he dropped you on your butt

           -But after a few times, he’s gotten used to it

           -He just walks around as if you aren’t hanging off of him

           -To get you off of him, he’ll tickle your thighs

           - secretly loves when you hang off of him though, but he’ll never tell you 

anonymous asked:

Can you write about how the paladin's crush (+ Allura and Matt) sticks to them like glue when they're drunk, insisting on cuddles or just holding their hand and following them around the entire time

(YOOOO, It’s Kota. Sorry for a hella ton of inactivity, Asma is still working to better her health, so requests are gonna come out slow. [Because school and being unispired] but it’ll work out, I didn’t include Allura because this got hella long and I have HOMEWORK)

Shiro


• Hes really flustered, when your drunk singing and hanging onto him for dear life.

• He holds you up and keeps you stable, holding your hair back (if it’s long enough) while you throw up after drinking to much

• Shiro is a responsible AD U L T so he doesn’t get drunk often, if at all. So he’s always watching over you, so you following him makes it a lot easier

• I CAN tell you his face turned the darkest shades of red when you kissed him during a game of Truth Or Dare.

• “Y/N GET OFF THE TABLE!!!”

• You two hold hands away from the crowd, after you get a little to fly he keeps all drinks away from you

• Not to big on the whole, cuddling in the middle of a party but he doesn’t mind your arm around him or your head on his shoulder

• Its kinda cute.

Lance

• tbh he would probably be a little tipsy too

• He thinks you being clingy while you hold onto him is the best thing in the world™️

• He’s ALL about it, holding your hand, kissing you in front of everyone, cuddling on the couch like no one’s around? Hell yeah.

• Drunk dances and sings with you, and he’s not afraid to stick up to someone and show them off that your his (even though you do a fine job yourself)

• “MCSCUSE ME SIR THAT’S MY Y/N.”

• While he does get flustered when you do these things (Thathe'llneveradmit) he overall just loves you??

• Its really FRIGGIN PURE (forthemostpart)

• He knows when you’ve had to much to drink though, and will lead you away after one to many.

Keith

• Let’s be real, this boy would probably be as trashed as you are

• While he’s not clingy when drunk, he’s hella protective and a -lot- little more out there then normal

• With you being clingy, it flusters him a lot. He can hide it pretty easily after jumping from surprise and shock when you hold his hand of cling to him

• Any male/female (depending on your preference) that walks towards you gets an ice cold glare and you get a protective arm around your waist

• He will low-key cuddle you when you both sit down on the couch, he’s always sure to have an arm around you or to be touching you in some type of way

• He’s very soft about it, no hard grips or rough feelings. Just gentle grasp.

• Looks pure, sounds pure, has a few intentions from the gutters of hell behind it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Hunk

• This boyo never drinks, and doesn’t fancy when you drink either

• Constantly takes care of you after you have one to many, though he’s studdering and looks like a Christmas tree the entire time he is because of your actions

• If he finds you drinking at a party, he will take it away from you and sigh. He doesn’t care if it’s your first or fifth drink. It’s a no.

• Holds you and makes you a special concoction of ginger ale, and sparkling water to help ease your hangovers.

• He just loves you so much and wants you to be healthy and sage but how can he do that if you’re drinking??

• He’s always a blubbering mess when you hold onto him, but he finds extreme comfort in your actions.

Pidge

• SHE’S 15 N O

• She always sighs and facepalms over a bright red blush everytime you hold onto her drunk

• She was really confused and blushing really hard the first time you got drunk in her presence and wouldn’t let her hand go

• She goes on about how you’re underage, and need to stop through a red face. She won’t force you to, but it would be in her better interest.

• Runs her fingers through your hair and sits beside you, she will NOT cuddle in public but you two hold pinkies.

• She will go OFF if someone tries to hit on you, like back away from the smol angry greenbean

• Shes able to make certain things in her lab to help ease the pain and wash the smell of whiskey and vodka off your party clothes

Matt

• HE’S ABSOLUTELY T R A S H E D EVEN WORSE THEN YOU ARE I CAN ASSURE YOU, YOU TWO ARE BOTH CLINGY, MESSY DRUNKS.

• He openly flirts with you, holds you and dances with you.

• You two are never apart for the entire party he is CLINGING TO YOU AND YOU TO HIM AND IT’S A MESS

• You two make it FAIRLY CLEAR YOU LIKE EACH OTHER STOP KISSING

• He holds you, doesn’t matter where at. He doesn’t care.

• You two both have to be watched by Shiro, while Matt does have a better judgement, it goes out the window when he’s drunk. So you both have no clue when to stop.

• hungover cuddles man

thisusernameisunique  asked:

I have a prompt if you're still taking them. Post PoppyLand fight: Harry and Eggsy cleaning each other up. Finding supplies with Elton in Poppy's house. Taking care of all the wounds received in the fight. Sensual. Gentle. Loving. Waiting for a Statesman pickup because they have two planes but no pilots. Elton destroying everything he can in rage. Harry and Eggsy just sitting there cuddling because they're all they have left. Yeah this went from a prompt to a really specific blurb. Sorry.

The post battle high never comes. Instead, the last two Kingsman agents are left with the growing horror of feeling like the last two of their kind. 

They stand frozen in time, the smell of blood and gunpowder familiar to both but deeply unsettling this time around. They stare at each other for a moment, watching each other’s chests rise and fall, just to make sure that this is real, that they are both still here. Still alive. Together and alive. 

Eggsy is the first to move, his face contorting as he tries - and fails - to hold back a sob. Harry catches him by the wrist, bringing Eggsy in gently, pressing him against his chest. He rests his cheek against the boy’s head and they both close their eyes, Eggsy clutching at Harry like a lifeline. 

Harry’s the first to pull away when he feels something drip onto his hand, right where he’s holding onto Eggsy’s wrist, unconsciously taking the young man’s pulse. He looks down and forces himself to remain calm at the sight of Eggsy’s blood. 

“It’s just a scratch,” Eggsy says, but he doesn’t fight Harry when he all but drags him out of the blasted burger shop and takes them all the way to what seems to be a tattoo parlor. 

He lets the older spy manhandle him into a seat next to the dog covered in fucking gold and Eggsy doesn’t say anything - in fact, he forces himself not to moan - when Harry all but rips his jacket open, moving away any and all offending garments to be able to look at Eggsy’s arm. 

Eggsy has no idea where the mind finds gauzes and rubbing alcohol, but find them he does, and he uses them ever so gently as he cleans the bruised cut Eggsy is sporting on his arm. 

“How did this happen?” Harry asks, his tone gentle despite the almost desperate look in his eye. 

Eggsy shrugged. “’m not sure, actually. I probably got it when I was fightin’ that motherfucking prick,” Eggsy says, not even bothering to refer to Charlie by name. 

Harry shakes his head, a mixture of fondness and worry in his eye. “You ought to be careful. We wouldn’t want anything happening to you.” 

“Says the man that got hit by a fuckin’ fryin’ pan in the head,” Eggsy quips back, raising his free hand to run his hand through the not so faint pink line forming on Harry’s forehead. That one’s going to leave a nasty bruise, Eggsy is sure. 

Harry winces slightly, removing Eggsy’s hand only to bring it to his mouth, kissing the back of Eggsy’s hand. “I’m alright. Nothing a bit of ibuprofen can’t handle.” 

“Ye had a head injury, Harry, you ‘afta be careful,” Eggsy reproaches, the joking suddenly become very real because he’s already fucking lost everyone and he will not - he cannot - lose Harry again without going insane. He loves the man too much to lose him again. 

Harry must see something in Eggsy’s eyes, for he leans in and caresses his cheek, a question in his eye. Eggsy smiles as he looks up at Harry, placing his hand atop of Harry’s and leans in just as close, unsure as to what Harry is doing but very much sure of where he himself wants it to go. Harry smiles gently, finally closing the distance between them to press a chaste kiss on Eggsy’s lips. Eggsy responds immediately, opening his mouth to let Harry explore if he so wishes. Harry presses him closer, his movements uncharacteristically uncertain, and, for a second, it breaks Eggsy’s heart to think that Harry is actually doubting whether or not Eggsy wants this.  

And so Eggsy redoubles his efforts, perhaps moaning a little too loud just to get his point across. It elicits a laugh from Harry, who, yeah okay, the man might know Eggsy a little too well, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he peppers kisses all over Eggsy’s face as a reward for his efforts. 

“We need to make sure you and I have no major injuries, and then we need to contact Statesman.” 

“M’pretty sure they know we stopped her already,” Eggsy says, unable to keep himself from trying to kiss Harry again. 

“Yes, but we need to get back to the States to figure out what is happening with Kingsman. And I do believe there’s a furious singer waiting for us somewhere in this infernal facility that promised me two concert tickets if we saved the world,” Harry said with a wink as he pulled away, his self control restored. 

Eggsy sighed but nodded, his brain slowly coming back online, allowing the terrible sadness to hit him one more time. “Once we get back to London… what happens then?” 

Harry sighed, his eyes looking haunted. “I don’t know,” he admitted, interlacing his fingers with Eggsy’s. “I guess we’ll just have to go and find out.” 

Break Even

A Christmassy SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown

Simon

Of course, it’s not enough that the Crucible stuck me and that twat in a room together.  It’s not enough that I have to deal with his abuse every single day six months out of the year.  Of course, someone out there, whoever’s controlling the fates, has gotten it in their mind that I don’t have it bad enough.

           You know what would make this even better?  Make Simon and Baz buy each other Christmas presents!  Perfect!

           I trudge along the snowy pavement, scowling at the melting slush.  I’ve been in five shops already and I can’t find anything.  I don’t even know what I’m looking for.  What do you get for someone you despise?

           I suppose I could pull a prank or something. That’s probably what he will do. He never fails to stoop to the lowest level when it comes to me.

           But then again, he would probably kill me if I pulled something like that.  For some reason, he’s allowed to mess with me, but I’m not allowed to mess with him. Figures.

           Exhausted, I duck into a coffee shop.  The air is warm and spiced with cinnamon.  As I make my way to the front of the line, I see the display of gift cards next to the till.

           Baz drinks coffee, doesn’t he?  Of course he does.  Everyone drinks coffee.

           So I buy my peppermint mocha, load a gift card and walk out relieved.

Baz

Of course, it’s not enough that I have to pretend I hate the boy with every word I say.  It’s not enough that I have no choice but to make his life a living hell every single day six months out of the year. Now I have to display my everlasting hatred by means of a Christmas gift exchange.

           Whoever thought this was a good idea can get fucked.

           I shove my way out of a candy store emptyhanded. Every shop is bringing me closer to the point of giving up.  What kind of villain gives the hero candy for Christmas?

           Then again, what kind of villain gives the hero anything for Christmas?

           Maybe the villain who doesn’t want to be the villain.

           I shake my head to clear it, squinting up at the sign over the next window.  Antiques it says in big loopy writing.  I sigh and push through the door.

           The smell hits me first.  It’s not a bad smell necessarily, just old and musty, kind of like breathing straight dust, and I cough.  As my eyes adjust I begin to make out the piles of knick-knacks stacked up on every surface, age-old brass and silver winking at me from every corner.  Or rather, blinking.  Like someone who’s trying to wink but never quite got the hang of it.

           I don’t know where to start.  I don’t even know what I’m looking for.  What do you get for someone who despises you?

           From what I can tell, everything in here is pretty expensive, which almost causes me to turn around right then.  Expensive doesn’t fit the guidelines I’ve set for myself. The gift can’t be too sentimental or he’ll know you don’t hate him.  It can’t be too expensive or he’ll think you cared enough to spend money on him.  It can’t be candy because candy is for kids, it can’t be cologne because that’s too personal, it can’t be homemade or he’ll think you spent time and effort on him. The list goes on and on.

           A flash of metal catches my eye, and I turn to see a tiny silver object on a table by the window.  I wander over to it.

           It’s a sheath, only big enough for a dagger, and it’s patterned in bronze rosebuds.  When I pick it up, I discover that the blade is still inside, intact, and actually nicely polished.

           Of course, Snow already has a sword, but when you live with a vampire, what harm would it do to have an extra weapon handy at all times?  One that doesn’t disappear when you’re not using it?

           “How much for this?” I ask the shopkeeper.

Simon

When the last day of classes rolls around, I find Baz in our room – no surprises there – packing the last of his things for the holidays.  I clear my throat as I enter.  He turns, but only for a second, and he doesn’t make any other move to acknowledge my existence.  Again, no surprises there.

           “Are you leaving soon?” I ask, trying to at least begin the conversation in a civil manner.

           “Yes, Snow,” he sighs, “as you’ll be thrilled to know.”

           I roll my eyes.  It doesn’t matter what I do.  This is just him.

           I drop my bag on my bed and rummage through it, searching for the tiny gift.  When I find it, I toss in onto his bed.  “Here.”

           He looks at it, his brow furrowed.  “What’s this?”

           “Christmas gift exchange,” I say, “you might have forgotten.”

           He opens the pathetic little square of wrapping paper I’ve taped around the gift card, and mutters something incoherent.  “What was that?” I ask.

           “I said, this is my favourite coffee shop.”

           “Oh,” I reply, not sure what else to say.  “Well, good then.  Happy Christmas, I guess.”

           He slips the card into his pocket and doesn’t move.  I figure he’s completely forgotten about the gift exchange, or he deliberately didn’t get me anything, and decide not to press the subject.  I flop down on my bed and pull out a magic book.  No use in packing for me, I’m not going anywhere. Not like Baz.  Not everyone gets to celebrate with a family.  And certainly not everyone gets to celebrate in a fucking mansion.

           A small wrapped package appears in my periphery. I look up.  Baz is madly arranging clothes in his luggage, trying to look like he didn’t put the thing on my bed.  I’m surprised, I’ll admit.  I guess he didn’t forget.

           “What’s this?” I ask.  I don’t know why I ask it, as the answer is fairly obvious.

           “Just open it,” he says, not looking at me.

           Carefully I pull the tape off of the paper, not wanting to trigger anything in case this is still some sort of prank.  I wouldn’t put anything past him, the boy who literally pushed me down the stairs and tried to feed me to the Chimera.  But nothing ticks, and nothing blows up in my hands.  Slowly I pull the paper back from the object, holding it far away from my face, just to be safe.

           I am not expecting a dagger.

           Specifically, I am not expecting a dagger with a matching sheath that clips onto a belt, adorned with a rosebud pattern of bronze. I am not expecting what appears to be a polished silver blade with a soft leather hilt that fits in my hand like it was molded to the shape of my grip.

           My mouth is hanging open in awe.  I can’t seem to form words.

           I look back up at him.  He’s stopped rearranging his luggage and is watching me, and he looks almost nervous.

           “How much did you spend on this?” I breathe.

           He shakes his head.  “It was just from a pawn shop,” he mutters.

           “Damn, Baz,” I chuckle, “way to make me look like a shit gift-giver.”

           His eyes harden.  “I’ll take it back then,” he growls, moving to take it from my hands.

           “No!”  I clutch the knife to my chest.  He stops, looking surprised, like he hadn’t actually expected me to like it.  How he could think that beats me.  “I love it,” I say, not even realizing that I’ve admitted to something.

           His brow softens a bit.  “I just thought it might be easier than always having to summon your sword,” he shrugs.

           “It’s perfect,” I breathe, staring at the roses on the sheath, spellbound by the thing.

           Suddenly I’m hit by a wave of guilt.  I spent a handful on a lame gift card, when Baz went and actually found me something that would mean something.  I don’t stop to think about why he would want it to mean something, I only know that it leaves the scales completely unbalanced.

           I need to repay him somehow.

           I stand, and suddenly we’re nearly face-to-face. If our room wasn’t so damn tight we wouldn’t be this close together, but for once the proximity doesn’t bother me. It clearly affects him though, because he shies away as soon as I stand.  He won’t even make eye-contact with me.

           “I can’t accept this,” I tell him, “not without paying you back somehow.”

           “What part of the term ‘gift exchange’ do you not understand, Snow?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.  “It’s a gift.  Let’s just wish each other a Happy Christmas and be done with it.”

           “No, that’s not how we work,” I insist.  “I torment you, you torment me, and somehow we always break even.  So now we have to break even on this.”

           “I’m not telling you how much I spent on that,” he shakes his head.

           “Why not?”  My heart drops for a second.  “Was it terribly expensive?”

           “No, it’s just not what you do.  You don’t tell someone what you spent on them, it just makes them feel guilty.”

           “And since when have you ever passed up an opportunity to make me feel guilty?” I challenge.  He doesn’t answer, just stares at something that isn’t my eyes. I can’t quite tell what he’s looking at. Maybe the wall behind me, maybe my shoulder, maybe nothing in particular.

           “Alright,” I concede, “no money, then.  But there must be something I can do.”

           And – Merlin – his cheeks turn pink.

           And now I’m very aware of how close we are.

           And of how I can pinpoint his gaze now.

           He’s looking at my face, but not my eyes.  My mouth.

           Oh.      

           I don’t think.  I just lean in and kiss him.

Baz

Simon’s mouth, no matter how many times I’ve thought he might kiss me, is a complete shock.  I’ve stared at his lips plenty, but apparently I wasn’t prepared to feel them against mine.

           And now here he is, pressing a gentle kiss to my cold mouth like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

           Before I can even close my eyes, he pulls back.

           I don’t speak.  I don’t trust myself to.

           “Is that alright?” he whispers.

           “Yeah.”  Crowley, I’m shaking.

           “Are we even then?”

           “Um,” I swallow nervously, “almost.”

           “Oh?” He smiles, and my heart stops entirely.  “What else do you want?”

           I lean in by just a fraction, hoping he’ll take the hint.

           He does.

           And then his mouth is flush against mine, not even bothering to be shy.  

anonymous asked:

Since there has been some hate on WinterBoneless, how do you think the boys and reader would react to someone hating on their poly relationship? Like they're out and about, all holding hands and someone comes up to them and just rants

“So… you’re saying you’re taken?”

Ivar makes a face like he’s talking to an unruly child. If you and Bucky could move a little faster bringing around the drinks, it’d be much appreciated. 

“Yes - I am certain I have already pointed out my girlfriend.” He did. About ten minutes ago.

The lady trying to make a pass at him leans closer to his seat on the bar stool; he reflexively leans back.

“You’re too cute to be kept by some skank,” she mutters. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“Excuse me?” Ivar snaps, stuck on the skank part. His eyebrows nearly disappear into his hairline as he glares at this woman. 

“She’s all over some dude at the bar.” She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, as if just busting someone amid committing a crime. “You deserve better, honey.”

“That is my boyfriend,” Ivar insists, though he’s certain she won’t understand the concept. 

She doesn’t. “…What?”

Ivar loses patience, cups the lady’s face as she insists on encroaching his personal space. He turns her head, points at his lovers as they receive the new order of drinks. “My girlfriend,” he says, pointing at you. “My boyfriend,” his finger moves to Bucky. 

“What, you just pass each other off like a bunch’a freaks or something?” 

He releases her with a growl. “Look, woman, if you do not mind fucking off -”

“How does that even work? Are you, like, gay or bi?”

He’s about to cuss at her again when you and Bucky finally arrive at the table. You scoot onto the stool next to him, completely oblivious to his irritation as you kiss his cheek and slide his drink over.

“That bar is fucking packed, it took forever -”

“I know,” Ivar grits out through his teeth. Your eyes finally land on the woman next to him and you cock a brow.

“Who’s this?” You ask.

Instead of getting an answer, she’s already eyeing Bucky. “So are you, like, gay or what? How does this work?”

Bucky sends Ivar a pointed look. “What’s this about?”

“It just seems a little slutty,” she goes on. She sizes you up from across the table, raking her eyes up and down the length of you until you start feeling defensive. 

“Can I remove her?” You ask.

Please.” Ivar pleads.

“Look, lady, if you could just -” Bucky starts when she interrupts again.

“I just don’t understand how this could work! You all sleep with each other? Who passes who off? Don’t you get jealous? Does she fuck other men or is it just -”

“Hey!” You snap, slamming your palm on the table. “Why don’t you go back to whatever shit-den you came from?” 

Bucky runs a soothing hand over your thigh beneath the table. The lady’s mouth bobs open and closed like a fish. “Take it easy, Doll.” But he’s better at this than you, stays calmer. You’re already annoyed that Ivar is feeling this upset. You’re not sure how you didn’t notice at first; he’s seething with anger.

“I just wanna know!” She’s one persistent fucker. “How does it feel when your ‘boyfriend’ -” she literally air quotes with her fingers. “- fucks other women?”

“The only woman he fucks is me,” you sneer, hand itching to clench into a fist. “Now, fuck off before you get what’s coming to you.”

“Whatever.” She finally says, throws her hands in the air as she stalks off.

Your eyes are still following her when you feel Ivar’s lips on your neck. 

“Have I told you how sexy you look when you threaten people?” 

The anger dissipates within almost as quickly as it filled you. You grin at him while squeezing Bucky’s hand on your thigh. 

Bucky tuts at the pair of you. “Sexy, but one night without a fight would be nice.”

Ivar scoffs and you’re already sputtering in defense when Bucky finally bursts with laughter, shaking his head in mock disapproval. 

anonymous asked:

Something very scary happened to me and my close friend and I started thinking "what if this happened to the chocobros?" How do you think the bros would react to their S/O or friend being rohypnoled and the guy who spiked her drink confronting them as they're trying to get her home safely? (Please just say if you're uncomfortable with this, I get that it's a touchy subject)

I’m so sorry this has taken me so long, it was sitting in my inbox for a couple of days while I tried to figure out exactly how comfortable I was with it. It toys with consent issues, but ultimately nothing comes of it, so I should be okay with it for the most part. And I’d rather fail than never try.

Then there’s the whole ‘figuring out how words work’ thing that came after. It ended up a little longer than I’d intended, but ultimately, I’m actually a little proud of it ;;;;;;;

I hope it’s cool that I did this en masse as a friend rather than their individual S/Os.

Quick note: Drinking age here in the UK is 18. I’m pretty sure it’s 21 elsewhere (I’m not 100%), but let’s just pretend that it’s also 18 in Lucis. Don’t drink underage, and never leave your drink unattended! On the other side of this, if you see someone put something in a drink, either tell the person who’s drink it is, or tell the bartender. NEVER let someone drink something potentially dangerous!

CW: Rohypnol, sexual assault mention, the “s” slur.

Tags: @neko-otaku13 @itsmootothecow @itshaejinju @mp938368 @ffxv-milkshake @bespectacled-girl @insomniacapples @expectogladiolus @bluechocobo @airlea-sicarius

It was a rare occasion that you got to go out for a drink with Noctis and the others. They were all always so busy, and you understood, of course you did, but it was nice to hang out with them from time to time.

When you mentioned grabbing a few drinks, Ignis had made himself very clear. He didn’t mind you drinking, you were an adult, after all, but he didn’t want you to get drunk. He still vividly remembered the last time they had to carry you home and it was not an experience he cared to repeat.

Keep reading

6 Sarcastic Guys’ Conversation.

6 SARCASTIC GUYS’ CONVERSATION (SEVERAL FANDOMS CROSSOVER): Fanfic? (because I wanted to write this ever since I saw a post similar to this)

Who’s in the house?

-  House

-  Jack Sparrow

-  Tony Stark

-  Sherlock

-  Dean Winchester

-  …?

What do they have in common?

(You don’t have to know all of the characters)

Narcissism, sarcasm, some are genius’, most are experts in their work, all of them have drinking/drug dependencies, most have childhood issues and are secretly full of angst, etc.

Summary: This is just them, trapped in a room together, with no idea how they got there or how to get out. There may be more characters to come…

Warnings: Not much, a bit of swearing.

Comments are well appreciated (nice comments, helpful comments etc.)

Part 1

Jack: Now, the real question remains: Where is the rum?

House glared at him.

House: That’s not the real question, dumbass. I wanna know what the hell we’re doing here.

Tony: Maybe it’s a house party.

Sherlock is bent down by the door, his nose alarmingly close to the floor.

Tony: Ok, curly, what’re you doing now?

Sherlock looks up frowning, realising he’s being addressed.

Sherlock: I’m checking to see what substances there are in order to determine where we are, which is a lot more than any of you lot are doing.

Tony: *huffs* Well, excuse me, princess-

House: There’s no way of getting out of here.

House is sat by the window, and everyone looks up to him. He motions to the window with his cane.

House: These windows are fake. That door is impenetrable, the walls are made with considerable strength, as we’ve found out, and none of us geniuses have any idea why we’re here, where we are, how we got here, or who sent us here.

Everyone was quiet.

Jack: Well, I for one, am not a genius – just to clarify.

Sherlock sighs and sits up against the wall.

Tony: Find anything?

Sherlock: No. There’s no evidence, no substances, no clues – just nothing.

He looked sullenly ahead.

Tony: Well, my Iron Man suit should be here anytime now.

Sherlock: It’s not going to work…

Tony screwed his eyes at him.

Tony: Well, I don’t think your ‘sniffing around’ is exactly doing to much to solve this problem either-

Jack: Ok, ok, ladies, lets settle down, shall we? Look, we only have each other in this neat room of ours, and if we start fighting, it all goes downhill from there, and frankly, I think we’d all know who would be the only one standing after that.

Jack smiled smugly to himself.

House sighs and mutters something like ‘imbecile’.

Jack: What was that now?

Sherlock looked over as House sighs, and rubs his leg with his hand, his cane to the side.

Tony: What happened to you?

House looks up and replies sarcastically: I tripped.

Tony: Well don’t get your knickers in a twist, Doc, I was only asking.

Sherlock: He got shot.

House looked over to him.

House: How the hell do you know that?

Jack: Oh, God, don’t ask him for an explanation, I’m beggin’ you.

Sherlock: Well, it’s clear from the way he holds his leg that he’s in obvious pain-

Jack: Here we go..

Sherlock, ignoring the interruption: and he’s used to it according to the heavy bags under his eyes from sleepless nights, and he’s bitter, a sign of long-lasting pain, so why wouldn’t you do something about it? Well, it’s obvious he’s tried drugs-

House: Shut the hell up.

Sherlock: – takes one to know one – but they didn’t work out, did they? Got too dependent on them, so now you just have to take the pain – and by yourself – I mean, it’s obvious that you’re lonely.

House stands up with his cane: I said SHUT UP!

He went over to Sherlock and squared up to him.

Tony and Jack looked at each other wide-eyed.

House: You think you’re some big genius, who can just figure everyone out by one look-

Sherlock: Well, yea, pretty much-

But suddenly there was a big BANG as the door came flying inwards.
They all shielded themselves as the door was smashed down and smoke covered them, some of them coughing, as Sherlock quickly walking over the new body that was now on the floor, coughed through the smoke and went through the door, just to see another door a few feet behind it.

Sherlock: Dammit.

House looked around.

House: Everyone alright?
Jack: Just dandy

House grimaced as he put his cane down and knelt to the man on the floor, turning him onto his back so they could see him, Tony kneeling next to him.

Tony: You know him?

House: Nope.

House leant down to check the man’s breathing, when suddenly he snapped up and looked around frantically, his golden necklace swaying across his chest.

Man: What the hell – oh, son of a bitch.

He held onto his head, wincing slightly and cursed to himself.

House: What’s your name? Do you know how you got here?

Sherlock and Jack crowded round to listen.

Man: Name’s Dean Winchester. And I have no clue, man.

anonymous asked:

This is so extra™ but is there any way you could write a smut fic as a continuation of the last scene with Alex and Maggie, where they're both incredibly turned on by each other and they can't help but get it on at the DEO

“So, arm candy, huh?”

“I mean have you looked in a mirror lately, Danvers?”

“Ugh, not lately, god Maggie, I probably look like hell.”

Maggie stops walking and Alex almost stumbles, but Maggie steadies her as she looks up at her gravely.

“You look perfect, Alex Danvers. Perfect. As always.”

Alex’s eyes flit down to Maggie’s lips, and Maggie is a detective.

So she detects.

And she bites her own lip and tries not to gulp.

Alex is a secret agent.

So Alex notices.

“Maggie,” Alex whispers, and her voice is ragged, and Maggie needs her.

Now.

“Tell me, Agent Danvers. Does being so newly reinstated mean you’re opposed to um… reminding your girlfriend what it’s like when you go rogue?”

Alex practically growls, and Maggie swoons.

“Say for example… right now? I mean this place has to have supply closets or something, ri – ”

Her sentence is lost as Alex tugs her forward, and if Maggie were anyone else, she wouldn’t notice Susan Vasquez subtly raising an index finger to point Alex in the direction of a room where the cameras were currently experiencing an inexplicable glitch.

But Maggie isn’t anyone else. She sees the gesture, and she mouths her thanks, and Susan just winks.

Alex doesn’t stop tugging on her arm until they’re reached supply room number 237, apparently, and they’re barely through the door before Alex has Maggie pinned against it, chest already heaving with need.

“Color?” she demands, and her voice is as rough as her eyes.

Because she was just almost flung across the galaxy.

She almost just lost this woman staring up at her with soft lips and eager eyes and desperate hands.

“Neon green, Al,” she rasps, and Alex practically lunges.

Her mouth, her teeth, her hands, are everywhere at once – Maggie’s lips, her throat, her chest (because Alex checks in with her eyes and when Maggie whines and nods desperately, Alex makes quick work of her shirt, of her bra), her stomach.

“Fuck me, Alex,” Maggie begs, and Alex growls as she picks her up effortlessly, and Maggie wraps her legs around Alex’s waist and her arms around Alex’s neck and Maggie screams, because Alex is holding her up with one arm and fucking her with the other hand and Alex is biting down onto her neck and Alex is crying and Maggie is crying but both of them keep reminding each other, green, green, green, please don’t stop, more, please, Alex, yes, fuck, more, harder, fuck, Alex, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, mine, mine, mine, mine, and Alex isn’t satisfied with Maggie only cumming once, twice, three times, drenching her fingers and staining her underwear and leaving scratches all across Alex’s upper back.

“Let me get you home,” she rasps, and Maggie nods, and Alex makes a show of licking her fingers clean and Maggie whines and writhes and tries to kiss her, but Alex shakes her head.

“Home,” she says, because she wants to go home, but also because she is home. 

Maggie knows, and she steps forward and hugs her, just hugs her, hugs her long and solid and safe and loving.

They might hug longer than they’ve fucked – neither of them are quite sure – but eventually Alex helps her get dressed, lethal fingers suddenly tender again, burning eyes suddenly soft and shy and timid again.

Until, that is, they get home.

Because Maggie glances at the way Alex’s leather jacket is unzipped just low enough that she can start to see her cleavage, and Maggie gulps, and Alex notices.

Of course Alex notices.

And she sweeps everything unceremoniously off the kitchen island and bends Maggie over on top of it.

“All good, babe?” she asks, even though she’s already read the answer in Maggie’s wrecked eyes.

“Don’t stop,” Maggie prays, and Alex promises to oblige. But some business first.

“Be a good girl and strip for me, Maggie,” she orders, and Maggie gasps at the command in her tone, at the confidence in her voice, at the authority in her heady gaze.

The authority, the determination, the audacity, the brazenness, that had been turning her on all day.

And while Alex was in agony – while she herself was in agony – she’d kept it to herself as much as she could.

And they’re both still in agony, but Alex’s roughness is an escape and Maggie’s compliance is a balm, and their skin touching skin is heaven on earth, and they’re safe, safe, safe, safe.

For now.

So they use it for all it is, and Maggie strips for Alex slow, strips for her determined, strips for her deliberate. She never takes her eyes off of Alex’s hungry ones, and the nearly feral look on Alex’s face is reward enough.

Enough, that is, until Alex has her begging for more, because Alex has turned her around again, has bent her over again, is slipping inside her again, is whispering how beautiful she is, what a good girl she is, supporting Alex like that all day, is this a good enough reward, how wet she is, how tight she is, how perfect she is, into Maggie’s ear, and Maggie comes completely undone in Alex’s strong, solid arms, backing up wildly against Alex’s strong, solid body.

And when Alex carries her to bed and presses kisses against every hickey, against every birthmark, against every old scar and every new bruise, Maggie knows only one thing in the entire multiverse:

That she is in love with prodigal-DEO-agent-gone-rogue-loyal-daughter-perfect-sister-gorgeous-ruthless-determined-genius-unrelenting Alex Danvers.

And she’s pretty damn sure Alex Danvers is in love with her, too.

Which is why Alex lets her crawl on top of her.

Why Alex wants her to crawl on top of her.

Because after a day of being impenetrable, of being almost worryingly hard-headed, of being a coiled muscle, a veritable force of nature, Alex is in love.

Alex trusts her.

Trusts her enough to let her guard down.

Trusts her enough to believe that letting Maggie give her back what Alex just gave to her doesn’t make her weak and it doesn’t make her less.

It makes her loved.

“You want this, sweetie?” Maggie asks, and Alex just arches her hips up so Maggie can strip her naked.

“Oh, Ally,” she whispers as she catalogues every new bruise, every fresh cut, painted onto Alex’s torso, onto her arms, onto her legs.

And Maggie kisses each one of them, memorizes their locations, their severity, in a map in her mind, so she will know exactly how to move when she does what she does next, what Alex is starting to whine for, what Alex is starting to grind her hips up for.

“Alex, you – “

“Yes, Maggie. Please.”

And Maggie obliges.

She starts slow, but she doesn’t end slow.

She starts soft, but she doesn’t end soft.

Because Alex begs her for more and Alex begs her for harder and Alex begs her for faster, please, please, Maggie, god, fuck, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, fuck just like that, god, fuck, Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, please don’t stop, please please please.

She shifts so her thigh is between Alex’s legs, and she groans as Alex grabs at her ass and bites at her shoulder as she pulls her down, harder and harder, closer, closer, struggling to find friction because Maggie’s thigh is so slick with how wet Alex is, and she kisses Alex’s hair and puts one hand behind her head and braces herself with the other and times her movements perfectly with Alex so that proximity, rhythm, outweighs friction and Alex is so wrecked underneath her that Maggie forgets what air is, that she can have this effect on a woman so powerful, so ruthless, that she single-handedly infiltrated and exploded Cadmus’s lair, and that woman cums screaming Maggie’s name and it’s almost more than Maggie can handle, because even without direct pressure, she cums again, too.

“I’ve got you, Ally,” she whispers, kissing her face as Alex shudders through the last waves of her orgasm. “I’ve got you.”

“Promise?”

“Ride or die, Danvers. Ride or die.”

anonymous asked:

Can I request an imagine where Josh and the reader have a sleepover (They're already dating, they just don't live with each other) and it's really cute, at some point late at night they're dancing around the kitchen. You imagines are the cutest, I swear I've died 100 times whilst reading them!

(I had so much fun writing this one! Thank you for the prompt, hope you like it!!)


You park your car in the visitor parking spot, grabbed your over night bag from the passenger seat beside you, and locked your car before buzzing Josh to let you in. He had just gotten back from tour. The six months he was gone was too long it felt like. You basically live at his place while he was in town. Spending 5 out of 7 nights there. But six months was too long to not be at a place that felt so much like home.

You’re not sure if Josh ever locks his apartment door, because it always open when you go over - even when you’re surprising him. But you look past it, letting yourself in anyways.

You can see Josh, he has his back towards you, ear buds in and talking to someone on his phone while he sorts through the mail he had collected while being away. You’re thankful that he’s pretty oblivious to his surroundings as you sneak up. You throw your arms around his shoulders, jumping up onto his back.

“Whoah!” Josh shouts in surprise, pulling an ear bud out to hear what was going on. He turns his head to look at you, and you almost have tears in your eyes when he grins so big, you can hardly see his eyes.

“Hey, Mark,” he says to the person on the other line. “I’ll call you back.” He doesn’t even give Mark a chance to reply as he rips the other ear bud out, throws his phone on the table and turns to that he can wrap his arms around your small frame.

“I missed you,” you whisper into his chest and he tightens his grip around you. You feel complete again. Every time Josh leaves, it’s almost like he takes a part of your heart with him. Of course you miss him while he’s gone, but you get used to the empty feeling in your chest until he comes back and then you wonder how you ever went so long without him.

“I miss you too, baby,” he replies softly into your hair, before pressing a light kiss to your head. You look up, leaning in for more kisses, snaking your arms around his neck and standing on your tippy toes, trying to get as much as him as you can. You can tell he feels the same way when one of his hands finds his way to your hair, and now you’re feeling like there’s too much in between you guys.

“Josh?” You almost moan, as his lips find his way to your neck. And without warning he lifts you up by your legs and you take that as a sign to wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you towards his bedroom.

“Way ahead of you babe,” he smirks, pushing open the door and kicking it closed with his foot. He lightly tosses you on the bed before landing just over top of you and smothering you with kisses again. Your smile was so big, Josh never made you feel unwanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muses, holding himself overtop of you, eyes running everywhere over your body. “I missed you so much.”

You reach your hand out and touch the side of his face. His eyes are deep, like he has a thousand thoughts running through his mind. You do too, but as his body presses against yours, there’s only one that you can really think of. “Show me,” you tell him. He gets a mischievous grin and happily obliges.

You’re not sure what time it is when you roll over into Josh’s bare chest, nuzzling your head into his neck. He take his hand and lightly draws it against your arm, raising goosebumps. You’re in total bliss, you’re really not sure how this could get any better.

“You should go away more often,” you say after a couple minutes of quiet. Josh looks down at you, confused expression as he waits for you to continue. “That was incredible,” You grin. Josh rolls his eyes, smile appearing on his face. He moves so that he’s on top on you again, and you think that you can’t possibly go at it again. But instead he bends down, kisses you quickly and then hops out of bed, grabbing his boxers and putting them on swiftly. You sit up, giving him a curious look.

“If we’re going to keep this up, we need some food,” he states with his big, classic Josh Dun grin before disappearing out the bedroom door. You throw your head back in a light laugh before scrambling to get out of bed and find one of his shirts and following him to the kitchen.

The light on the microwave reads 2:33am when you enter into Josh’s tiny apartment kitchen. He has most of what was left in his fridge out on the counter. Which is basically eggs.

“I forgot to go grocery shopping,” he admits, with a squinty smile when he notices you.

You look around the tiny kitchen, trying to get ideas of what to make when you notice a Chinese take-out menu sitting on the counter. You grab it and hold it up to your boyfriend, raising an eyebrow.

“I like you’re thinking,” He nods. And half an hour later you’re both sitting on his couch with Chinese take-out boxes and binging X-Files. You’re sprawled across the couch, legs resting over top Josh’s lap. You’re half paying attention to the TV show, half scrolling through your twitter feed when you see a tweet from Paramore, releasing their new song.

“Did you know about the new Paramore song?” You ask, holding your phone up to him so he can see the post.

“Oh yeah!” His eyes light up. “Hayley mentioned something about that last time I saw her. Plug it into the speakers!”

You get up and plug your phone into the speakers Josh had set up across the room and press play. Both you and Josh are dead silent, listening, deciding if you liked what you were hearing. The song ends and you’re both still silent.

“Well,” Josh clears his throat after a couple of seconds pass. “I know what I’m going to listen to non-stop for the next - rest of my life.”

“Right!” You shout in agreement, immediately playing the song again. And by the 15th time of listening to it, both you and Josh are dancing on the furniture, singing the lyrics at the top of your lungs, pretending to play the instruments and genuinely just acting like idiots together.

You’re dancing on the couch as Josh passes you, so you take the opportunity to jump on his back for a piggy back. He spins you around as fast as he can before collapsing on the couch, both laughing till tears.

“Ah man,” Josh sighs after your laughing fit, looking over at you. And he can’t believe how beautiful you look in his over sized shirt. “I love you.”

That stops you mid laugh. You and Josh haven’t been dating for very long, only 8 months, and most of that had been long distance while he was on tour. And while you knew you loved him from the start, you never said it; afraid that he wouldn’t feel the same way. So you were perfectly content waiting until the time was right. What you didn’t expect was for him to say it first. “I really, really do Y/N,” he continues when you don’t say anything. “You make everything an adventure and I just, I love you.”

You’re grinning uncontrollably as Josh bares his soul to you, but you want to keep it cool. “Yeah, you’re alright.” You tease. Josh laughs and starts tickling you until you can’t breath, determined to get you to say it back. “Okay!” You shout in surrender, your sides sore from laughing. Josh pauses, keeping his hands close for another tickle attack if he doesn’t hear the right answer. “I love you, Joshua Dun.”

anonymous asked:

Sometimes people talk about their FP and abusive thoughts because they're horribly intrusive and sometimes venting those and seeing other people relate to that can be really gratifying. It takes a lot of strength to live with intrusive/abusive thoughts and hold them back, and when I express them on tumblr I just want to fling them out into the infinate void of the internet- I don't act on them.

ive been through this discourse so many times im so tired lmao but news flash some things just arent meant to be shared. ever think of that ?? ever think about how the reason theyre bad impulses and thoughts is because it would hurt people if they knew about them ?? ever think about by sharing them and making them #relatable, you’re validating each other’s abusive/damaging behaviors and normalizing them and eventually you get a toxic cesspool that results in things like impulseoftheday that posted people’s rape fantasies and racism and people who actually think its okay to be manipulative.

this is how you cultivate abusers. this is how you teach mentally ill children use their mental illness as an excuse to hurt others. this is how you normalize immoral and disgusting behaviors. you want to feel gratified for having horrible intrusive thoughts ?? why ?? suck it up and acknowledge that these impulses are inexcusable. you dont get to feel good about them. they shouldnt be relatable.

the internet is not a void. by talking about all this bullshit so casually, this culture of normalizing bigotry, abuse, and destructive symptoms grows and fucking grows. i was manipulated, backstabbed, and kicked out onto the street by a couple of people with this fucking mindset. one of them reblogged from impulseoftheday talking about wanting to murder me and my friends bc i was friends with his FP and he had to be the center of attention. and his excuse? Lol.

to whine about how “theyre bad thoguhts but i have to get them out somewhere :-(”

no you dont. it’s not that hard. dont give me that shit about “it takes a lot of strength to live with”, as someone who deals with this shit myself, it actually is remarkably easy to not click that “new text” option on tumblr dot com and make an ~edgy relatable~ post about the latest trendy manipulation tactic that y’all just love to spread around like its nbd bc ur mentally ill uwu

stop validating impulses and thoughts that dont need or should ever get validation. want to feel better about yourself ? stop moaning about how much you want to abuse people and actually start working on correcting and improving your behavior.

anonymous asked:

a fluff therapy request for whenever you're looking for prompts again? i would love some tummy loving -- either will's or hannibal's -- after they've added some softness now that they're not constantly fighting for their lives any more. i've been feeling really self-conscious lately about my weight due to some projects going on where lots of people see me, & it would be so nice to read our murder nerds appreciating in each other something i'm worried about in myself. :\

I think being self conscious of your tummy is something a lot of people can relate to nonny, myself included. I’m sorry this took so long to get to but I hope it helps regardless. <3

Will woke to the sun in his eyes, lips on the back of his neck, and a hand rubbing circles into his abdomen.

“What are you doing?” Will mumbled, leaning back into Hannibal’s warmth.

“I’m holding you,” Hannibal said. “I’m appreciating your form.”

“You’re rubbing my belly.”

“I am. Would you prefer that I stop?”

“I don’t know… I guess not.”

Between the weeks spent bedridden, the sedentary months spent hidden away, and Hannibal’s insistence they eat dessert every day after dinner, Will was fuller in the middle now than he’d ever been. His size small t-shirts pulled tight across his abdomen when they were fresh from the dryer. Several pairs of jeans he’d acquired only months ago no longer fit.

“You’re self conscious of your weight gain.”

Will’s cheeks reddened. He turned his face into the pillow. “I’ve just never been this… big before.”

“Your weight still falls within the acceptable range for your height and age.”

“I should start exercising more.”

“It is my hope that whatever you do, you do it for your own satisfaction, never my own.” Hannibal’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of Will’s belly. “I find you no less desirable in your current form.”

“You can’t possibly find pot bellies sexy.”

Will suddenly went cold at the loss of Hannibal at his back. Before he could think to protest, the covers were being pulled away, and Hannibal was pushing him onto his back.

Hannibal straddled Will’s thighs and bent down to press a kiss just below his navel. “This is a sign of a body well loved,” he said, pressing another kiss just above to the first. “A life being lived to the fullest.”

Will smiled, face still burning. “I’m going to pretend that isn’t a pun.”

Hannibal nuzzled into Will’s middle. “I’ll go make us breakfast. Stay here. Let me bring it to you.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to fatten me up.”

Teasing, Hannibal dragged the blunt edges of his teeth across Will’s flesh before pulling away. “I’ll be back shortly. Sleep a bit more if you’d like.”

Will sighed and sprawled out in the middle of the bed once Hannibal was gone. An echo of Hannibal’s touch, Will rubbed circles into his own belly. It rumbled in anticipation of the meal to come. He smiled and allowed himself to doze, arm draped lightly across the softness of his middle.


[hannigram fluff therapy]