this just came to me

anonymous asked:

Hey I have a weird question I haven't really seen addressed anywhere if you don't mind. I've been seeing a lot about Freyr lately, and he sound so, so super nice and I've been wanting to say hi, but the fertility angle terrifies me as someone who would rather die than face pregnancy. Is that okay, like is that something that would jive?

That’s totally okay! I honestly don’t think there would be an issue with that, he’s so much more than a fertility god ya know? But at the same time I totally get where you’re coming from, my period was late this month and the minute I realized it I was like, “SHIT I’VE BEEN WITH FREYR AND WEARING UNAKITE EVERYDAY IM DONE IM PREGNANT” but nah. I think if children aren’t something you want he’ll be fine with that, the majority of devotees I know don’t pray to him for that. I do but I twist it around for fertile earth, bees, and soil. 🐝

sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places. what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?

“dylan.”

a midwestern teenaged boy with an accent calls out into a soundless room.

dylan can hear his blood flowing and his heart thumping.

“dylan.”
he calls out again. his voice is raw, plain. unsure. terrified.

dylan’s wearing his boston red sox baseball cap backwards. he’s shirtless, wearing a pair of skinny jeans that hug his legs snug. one of his combat boot laces are untied, and he can’t remember why.

eric sighs and his arms go from crossed to limp, letting them fall to his sides as he gets no response.

dylan keeps quiet and he’s sitting in his room, on a stool, facing an open window with no screen. he has a marlboro menthol in his hand, and as much as eric wants to push dylan out the fucking window and never deal with this again, he notices dylan lets a tear fall but yanks his head away from eric’s direction to try to hide it and save his pride.

eric feels guilty for once.

“look- i know. just talk to me or something. please-”

“get out.”

eric freezes. time stands still.

“no.”

dylan looks at eric for the first time all day since he witnessed eric kissing some random blonde girl in the senior parking lot.

“i said. get out.”

“and? i’m not going to unless you call the cops and have me physically dragged outta here. i’m not leaving you. look, i’m sorry, okay?”

eric walks up to dylan, sitting on the windowsill and gently bringing dylan’s face closer as he kisses dylan’s salty tears away. dylan just obliges, deciding there’s no point in trying to object.

but- dylan keeps his eyes hooked on his carpet that’s growing a garden of his dirty clothes before whispering,
“why’d you do it?”

eric can’t look dylan in his eyes anymore as he speaks the truth. his gaze switches to his combat boots.

“it just happened. i can’t explain it, dylan. i swear to god she kissed me first, i just-”

“but you kissed her back.”

dylan’s eyes usually look like snowflakes, like baby blue frost on green blades of grass, like blue quartz. like diamonds.

right now they look like a raging ocean, you could see tidal waves attacking a sailboat inside of them. you could hear the wood shredding and the sail ripping in half.

dylan doesn’t know what to say, and eric stays silent, so he just takes a drag of his cigarette.

“you know something, eric?”

eric’s almost scared to respond. he expects dylan to push him out the window and that would be the end of him. he expects dylan to grab his knife out of his desk drawer and stab him in the heart. hell, he expects dylan to wrap his hands around his throat and watch the life drain from his eyes.

but he doesn’t.

dylan flicks his cigarette out the window and grabs eric by his waist, holding him on his lap and he kisses eric.
hard.

eric does exactly what he did with the girl in the senior parking lot, he kisses back, and he tangles his fingers in dylan’s hair, pulling on it rough.

“but you know for a fact she doesn’t taste as good as i do.”
dylan speaks between heavy breaths and eric’s wet lips.

eric grunts faintly in response and nods in agreement as dylan runs his hand up the back of his kmfdm shirt, pulling away for a split second to throw it across the room, getting lost in the sea of dylan’s clothes.

“you know you prefer the taste of cigarettes over cheap berry lip gloss that sticks to your face.” dylan mumbles, and he’s exactly right.

they make out with each other for a few more minutes until eric’s lips are swollen, and somehow they’ve ended up in dylan’s bed with a condom in his lanky hand, ripping it open.

eric stares up at dylan with eyes that look like a golden meadow that sways with the pattern of the wind at 6am, or sunflowers and bees getting along in a suburban backyard, or two yellow canaries perched on a tree branch, singing to each other.

dylan stops and stares, and he sees all three.

the angry ocean in dylan’s eyes starts to settle, and his tsunamis transform into soft beach waves crashing onto a sandy shore in the form of dylan’s hips pounding against eric’s.

maybe dylan forgives eric, or maybe the salt in his wounds just melted into sugar.

Painted a hurt Fenris and Hawke sneaked in there to kiss him better - went from pure angst to 100% fluff, I do not regret.

IMAGINE YOUR OTP

Apartment AU! Where Person A and Person B live right next to each other and the walls are very thin…And I mean can-hear-quiet-footsteps-if-you-listen-hard-enough THIN.

So, one evening Person A is playing music at an acceptable volume, but their surrounding neighbours could still hear the music.

They don’t say anything cuz it’s soft enough to be ignored and really they had gotten used ignoring these sounds (sometimes frankly hilarious sounds but embarrassing for that apartment resident)……

……. Except for Person B.

They ignore the god awfull music for a full five minutes before Person B cracks. I mean sure they find Person A cute hot and sexy as hell and they haven’t really talked to them but Person A really needed to get a better taste in music.

Swearing to teach ‘A’ what good music is, Person B plugs in their own iPod to the speakers and starts playing their fav playlist, raising the volume not too loud but loud enough so that Person A gets the message. The rest of the inhabitants raise their eyebrows at this “message” but dismiss it quickly.

Of-fucking-course Person A gets the ‘message’ and is fucking annoyed and decides teach them a lesson, cranking up the volume. Y’all know where this is going. Fangirl!&Shipper!Person C is quietly sqealing dying inside at their antics.

This Game continues for a week during which the other residents are highly amused becuse this drama is fucking better than any fucking reality show Mum. Meanwhile the songs have progressed from annoying the other to slightly flirtatious but still annoying but you’d only catch this if you’ve been paying attention. Consequently, only Person A, Person B and Person C have caught this.

However, whenever Person A and Person B cross each other’s paths, they remain nonchalant and greet each like they hadn’t been figuritively fighting the night before.

It’s Friday and Person C had had a bad day and they just want to rest and break away from the stresses of the week. The music ‘battle’ begins. Person C grumbles but ignores it they best they can because the bad day was’t cuz of them although they annoy their shipper heart to no end

After 15 minutes of obvious fucking music flirting the music wasn’t even that good like they seem to think Person C SNAPS. Their voice rings throughout the two-storeyed flat:

“Would the two of you stop your flirting and just fuck already!”.

Distant laughter can be heard as Person A and Person B scrambles to shut down their respective music systems blushing furiously. A few moments of utter silence and a muffled exclaimation that sounded suspiciously like “fuck it!” was followed by silent knocking.

Needless to say The Music Battle never occured again. It was replaced by quient thumping noises but you already knew that ;)

Hips Don’t Lie

I stood there, smiling wide, as I watched my husband break out the best dad moves he had in his repertoire.

As the song beat on and those sinful hips swayed from side to side, I couldn’t help but let my mind wonder to a similar moment just nights ago.

There were a couple key differences.

There were no flashing lights.

It was only Jensen and I.

There were no clothes involved.

And let me tell you, seeing those hips swing freely like that, no burdensome clothes obscuring the view. That’ll do things to a girl.

Dreadfully wonderful things.

Those bare hips, moving sensually towards me. Those thick, bow legs torturing me with their movements. His soft, yet defined stomach, rolling with each step. His broad shoulders and biceps stretching and flexing as he cornered me. My breath quick, my body aching to be touched.

Then he grabbed my naked hips, pulling me into his warmth, slowly encouraging my body to move in time with his. Our bodies knew exactly how to move together.

Let’s just say, it didn’t take long for things to escalate. It didn’t take long before those hips were rolling on top of mine, showing me just how well they could move as long as I begged.

“Hey there beautiful,” Jensen’s voice sounded, breaking me out of my memory. “You look all worked up,” he noted, swaying his hips dangerously as he grabbed mine, guiding me along with him.

“Well, if you’d cut that shit out, I wouldn’t be ready to jump you in front of all those people,” I whispered, locking eyes with his.

“Oh you mean like this,” he said, grabbing my hips, rolling them against his, his hand pressed firmly at the small of my back, pushing me into his hardness.

“You’re lucky we’re back stage,” I moaned, my fingers brushing the fine hairs at the nape of his neck as my lips met his.

“How about we find somewhere a little more private the second this panel is over?” He suggested when my lips were swollen and red.

“You read my mind, Jense,” I breathed against his mouth, pushing him away from me. “Get going so we can get going,” I smirked, raising my eyebrows suggestively.

He pulled me to him once more, his lips crashing to mine hungrily.

“Yes ma'am,” he growled. “I think it’s time for the last question,” he said, heading back on stage.

The music started, and Jensen’s voice rang out with Rob’s. I pulled myself together, waiting patiently to drag my husband back to our room, those hips and what they were capable of the only thing on my mind.