twitter pated

“Hello?” Dean growled, irritated. He was supposed to pick you up five, and it was six thirty. He had finally worked up the nerve to ask you on a proper date, and he was an hour and a half late. You were going to make him sweat this one out. He had made you wait first.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, turning slightly and throwing his hands up in the air in resignation. “There was a hunt. It took longer than Sam thought it would.” He emphasized Sam’s name as if the blame was solely laid on him.

He knocked rapidly at the door again. You watched him through the small peep hole. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and rubbed his neck nervously.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he turned away and rested against the door. “You really fucked this one up, Winchester,” he mumbled, running his hands through his hair. You were so caught up in how cute he looked being all twitter-pated, you almost missed what he said as he continued to talk to himself.

“The one woman you’ve ever loved, who has no fucking clue and now you’ve royally fucked it up,” he said, hitting his head against the door, hard, wincing slightly at the jolt.

“Dean?” You called out. He turned around quickly and looked at the door.

“Y/N,” he said, relieved. “I’m so…”

You opened the door and his words stopped dead in his mouth. You were crying.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he said, his hand reaching for your face hesitantly. He expected you to lean away, but instead you leaned into his touch. His fingers rested against your neck, his thumb running gliding across your cheek as you looked up at him.

“Did you mean that Dean?” You asked, not willing to believe that Dean Winchester really loved you.

“Mean what?” He asked, confused.

“You love me?”

He searched your eyes briefly before pulling your lips to his in a searing kiss. His mouth moved against yours reverently as his tongue begged entrance into your mouth. When you were spent, he pulled away and rested his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered. “We’re so screwed,” he chuckled softly.

“Dean, you’ve always been my weak spot. The monsters already know that. The only difference is now I know I’m yours,” you smiled. His lips met yours once more, and you knew things would never be the same.

Submit a Gif

Love In An Elevator

gift for @lacrimadraconis … I tried to incorporate as MANY of your tropes as possible!!! :)

In all honesty, he had been rushing so quickly to make it into the elevator that he hadn’t even noticed the other person stepping through the doors. They ended up knocking into each other just over the threshold.

“Dude! Rude much?”

Derek pivoted on his heel to apologize and punch the button for the lobby when he glanced up at his fellow passenger and froze. Oh… no no no no nooo…. Not hot-dorky-guy-with-the-oral-fixation. Life could seriously not be that shitty to him today. Of all the fantastically shitty days to literally bump into the random guy from the 35th floor art department that he’d been crushing on for ages… it was now. Obviously. Because the universe could not hate him more. He must have been some sort of famed puppy murderer in another life. Fuck. Between Kate’s constant inappropriate advances and the entire building covered with heart decorations and filled with twitter-pated love-struck coworkers… he had really had enough of this damn day.

“You gonna push that button?”

Keep reading

astoryinred  asked:

Enjonine and 21. :) I miss your writing for this pair

I may or may not have like ¾ things in the works for e/e. I just suck at finishing things

Eponine is possessive, he knows that much. It comes from finally having something that is just hers. She doesn’t have to share him with her friends, or his friends, or her family or his. They have the same friends - who still have no clue what’s going on between their “charity case” - her words, not his - and the “golden boy”. 

If only she realized that she was the one spun of gold and beauty, of kindness and inexhaustible strength, and he was nothing without her silent - or vocal - support. 

Something about their thing being a secret - it makes her hot. And yes, he understands the thrill of secret meetings and of leaving his marks where no one can see them. He understands that secret smile that plays on both their lips when their bodies ache with a small reminder of a clandestine rendezvous. 

Sometimes, when he is in the middle of a speech, he’ll feel the reminder of the bruise she slowly sucked into the skin near his hipbone. And he’ll be happy. For just a brief moment. 

And then he wants more, so much more. He’d like to meet her in the daylight, out in the open where the sun makes the auburn locks in her hair stand out. He’d like to tell his best friend that he’s in love - that the songs make sense now. 

He doesn’t care if his friends tease them. They do it out of the fierce love between comrades - and maybe because they would totally enjoy seeing him twitter-pated over a woman. Especially since he swore that his country was his mistress, second only to justice and the law. 

“I promise I’ll still love you in the light of day,” he tells her, overly formal for their state of undress. 

“You can’t say stuff like that,” she doesn’t stop caressing him even in her frustration. 

Her calloused fingers feel so good on his skin that he is momentarily distracted from his goal: Make Eponine see that he is very serious about her and their relationship. 

“Do you really think our friends would not be happy for us?” he questions, turning the tables. “They love you. Granted, not as much as I do, but neither of us wishes for that." 

Eponine stills in her movements ever so briefly, and he takes advantage of it. He pulls her body closer against his, leaving her graceful neck at the perfect distance to his mouth. 

"Fine,” she huffs, his breath caressing her neck. “Fine. We can be less secretive." 

As he licks and sucks and nibbles on her soft skin, he wonders what she will say to the people who see his marks on her. Will she claim him as proudly as he wishes to claim her?

Yes, it turns out Gabriel Enjolras is a might possessive as well. 

Every time I see photos of Marcus wearing a white shirt, buttons open and tucked in the front, belt buckle blazing, I get a little weak in the knees.

This is exactly how he looked for my first Mumford & Sons concert. (This is one of my fav pics from the show that I took.) To borrow a Whovian reference of “You never forget your first Doctor.” - You never forget your first live Marcus experience.

Or maybe that’s just me and I’m only a silly twitter-pated fan with a fondness for boys in button-downs, who play the mandolin and sing their heart out like it’s as natural as breathing. Idk.

Just a Moment to be Girly

This guy, Ryan, is one of the most kick ass people I’ve ever met. He gives me all the feels.

Today, I went to pick him up for class and as I get out of my car he comes walking down the steps of his front porch and we just kind of stop and look at each other. He looked stunning. There was nothing really different. His hair was freshly washed with nothing in it, just natural. And he was in his usual jeans and leather jacket combo. But today he just looked even more breath-taking than normal. He tells me I look amazing. (I was wearing a ridiculous dress I bought last year.) Then we both glanced up at the tree in his yard where a couple of birds are playing and tweeting. I commented something dorky about finches. He invited me inside.

The sun was shining, on us and in my heart. 

I hope he knows how he makes my heart race. I hope I make his race too.

I spy! A little tiny bird. She had a beautiful male “flirting” with her, he would dive bomb the bush with a loud high pitched tweet/chirp, fly straight up and chatter and hover for a moment, then he would do it again. Finally they kind of met in the middle of the bush, chattered at each other for a second. Then she flew to another tree, and he vanished. This went on for several minutes. My daughter and Hubby saw him in the sun for just a second, and said his head was a brilliant red, but couldn’t see what color his body was, she reminded me of a ruffus.

marry me

title | marry me

notes | Just a little proposal story set in my family fic universe. Haven’t seen tonight’s ep yet but wanted to write something quick before bed. Hope you guys enjoy, it’s all cute fluff with an appearance by little Abby Queen.


“And they lived happily ever after, the end,” Caitlin whispers into a quiet room, smiling down at the slumbering toddler stretched out in her bed. A veritably whirlwind of energy, little Abby Queen has been quite the handful the last two days. Still, for all the ups and downs of babysitting, Caitlin’s more than grateful for time with her goddaughter. Felicity and Oliver rarely leave her alone, but a business trip had come unavoidably up, necessitating a phone call and a few favors—she and Barry have been in Starling City all weekend, babysitting Abby and Starling in turns.

Speaking of: a warm, familiar weight falls against her back and Caitlin knows without looking that Barry’s come back, is standing in the door watching her pull up and tuck a blanket under Abby’s chin, and that knowledge causes a smile to crawl across her lips. It halts quickly though, when his whisper cuts through the room with an unexpected question. 

“Marry me?”

For a second, she thinks she’s imagined the words, heard them wrong—they’re barely a whisper in a shadowed room and she’s more than a little exhausted—but she turns and sees Barry leaned against the doorway; the stare he’s fixing her with carrying the weight of a hopeful world on it. Her confusion, her hesitance, must show plain on the lines of her face because Barry’s expression softens and he steps into the dark room, coming up behind her and pulling her into an embrace.

It’s second nature to melt into his arms, so despite the barrage of questions she suddenly has, Caitlin does. Leaning back against his chest, head against his collarbone, she tilts to catch his gaze—it’s already waiting for her, patient but intense and utterly sincere. He repeats the question and moves a hand, digging into his pocket and producing a small black box, which he immediately offers her. 

She takes it, her own hands surprisingly steady, and lifts the lid to reveal a perfect, simple, silver engagement ring. Barry’s whispering an explanation before she even asks for one (or answers his question, for that matter). 

“I love you Caitlin and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’ve never been more sure of anything. I’ve been carrying that ring around for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to ask.” And here she grins, eyes rolling a little because it’s so like Barry, to wait and wait for the right time, even though they both know that nothing about their lives includes a right time (bad timing is practically the foundation for their relationship—a fact they’ve learned to be grateful for). “But this weekend, with Abby, all I’ve been thinking is that every hour I waste waiting for the perfect time to ask you to marry me is one less hour I could be married to you, living this life, and I decided I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

Every moment they’ve spent together this weekend, taking care of Abby—playing games, telling stories, visiting the park—has felt like a look into the future, and it’s left an acute ache in his chest. He wants this life with Caitlin, wants every piece and part of it, and he doesn’t want to wait.

She doesn’t either. Grinning beautifully, Caitlin twists in his arms, slides her fingers through his hair, and pulls him down for a long kiss. “I don’t want to wait either,” she murmurs once they pull away, more caught up in the moment than worried about waking Abby. “Let’s get married.”

And eight months later, surrounded by family and friends, they do.


Again, just some fluff. I like the idea of Barry being all twitter pated watching Caitlin interact with Abby (since I kind of have that as a catalyst for them realizing their feelings in my Godmother story) and that being the impetus for him just proposing off the cuff. Hope you guys enjoyed!