unknots

Have been quiet for most of June in order to shore up the ship (whew, its been a tough few months).

Thank you everyone for your patience. This whole… (gestures vaguely) …thing is incredibly hard to run and build. Two steps forward, half a step back. But persistence and waffles and a lot of coffee keeps everything going forward.

I slow things down when things are hard to fix problems. I don’t add new projects or post new stories or market – “fix problems, then get to those things.” Feels like the right thing to do.

Problems are unknotting nicely, so new stories and artwork and gossip will begin rolling in soon.

You are all fantastic and I love you.

Thanks for listening to the old ghoul ramble.

It is time to get back to work, I’m up from my nap and coffee is done.

Move, Made.

Muse: Min Yoongi x Reader
Genre: Lots of fluff and the usual pinch of angst!
Word: 3.5k
Type: A friends with benefits AU ─In which one of you falls in love with the other and confesses without saying the three little words. + College AU

Parts: I, II & III

Originally posted by leojuseyo

+You’re in love with your fuck buddy, Yoongi’s best friend, Hoseok. And Yoongi recently made it known that he more than likes you in his bed, naked.

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And I Thought You Might Be Mine

*click through to read on ao3

Written by: Nai | @hiddenpolkadots
Prompt: Tol: is that my shirt?
Smol, wearing a shirt that goes down to their knees: … no
words: 2500


Bellamy is aware that living with Clarke was going to come with some challenges.

(Or, as Octavia put it, rather excitedly, “It’s going to be a total fucking shitshow, and Raven and I have a bet going on who would commit murder first.”)

But despite their friends utmost certainty that things were going to crash and burn within the first week, they’ve been happily living together for the past six months, so he made sure to tell them to suck it after they hit the two week mark, because he’s a responsible adult.

That isn’t to say that it’s a walk in the park either. He and Clarke still argue about every little thing, but that’s just how they communicate. Now they just add arguing about domestic things such as whose turn it is to do the dishes, or why hasn’t he taken out the trash yet into the mix as well. He maybe likes it a bit too much, but no one needs to know about that.

He’s also become privy to a lot more of her quirks which- he likes to think that being friends, or at least acquaintances, with Clarke for over four years meant that he knew her fairly well, but once they move in, it becomes a whole other story.

For example, he learns that despite being left handed, she brushes her hair and teeth with her right, she always has to keep a full cup of water on her bedside table at night, and she needs more pillows than necessary to sleep.

Perhaps the most interesting quirk of hers is that she’s always stealing his clothes, all the fucking time.

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NEIGHBOURS

TITLE -  Neighbours - Part 1 

WARNINGS - SMUT , orgasm denial , choking , NSFW GIFS 

WORDS -  2.5 k +

A/N -   Taw @supersoldierslover as always you are amazing . Thank you so very much for the corrections and changes . 

MASTERLIST


Bucky Fucking Barnes , your neighbour who fucks every other girl almost everyday . You’d have no  problem with peoples sex life since you have a  quite active one too, but it becomes a problem when you share a wall and can’t help but hear  “BUCKY BUCKY BUCKY  YEAH BUCKY” every other day form the mouth of a high pitched lady who is obviously faking it . Who screams like that? It boasts his ego to such an extent that he walks around completely cocksure of himself with a smirk on his face 24/7 . 

You just want to slap it off his beautiful , pretty , fuckable face . Yep . You did have a crush on him when he moved in . He was nice to people around him , he helped out old ladies and was pretty good with kids . Why is that he was so arrogant when it came to you ? Well, you dodged his advances every single time . And every single time he just got even more unbearable.

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It Just Made Sense (Draco Malfoy x reader)

A/N: so i wrote !!

request: Draco malfoy request please! (Years after the war) reader x draco have been invited to a Hogwarts class reunion and they go as a married couple, feeling more nervous than excited to see past classmates (Reader being a former Gryffindor if you care to add) ♡♡♡Thanks♡♡♡♡

word count: 705
warnings: none

“Do we really have to go to this thing, Y/N? Why can’t we just stay in and cuddle? Or we could go out to dinner?”

“No, Draco,” You cross your arms as you pick out an outfit for tonight, giving him a look. “We have to go to this reunion. All our friends from school are gonna be there and-”

He sits down on the edge of the bed that the both of you share and sighs, “Sweetheart, everyone hated me. And it’s just gonna be weird. I mean, no one expected us to be together. You were friends with Potter! God, I was so awful to him. And my parents-”

You cut him off with your lips pressed to his. “Stop.” You place your hands on either side of his face. “That was years ago. Neither of us are the same people we were. I don’t think anyone is. Stop worrying.” You kiss him again. You pull away to see him giving you a grateful smile and a nod. “Okay, now let me fix your tie, because what the hell did you do to it?” you giggle at his necktie which is knotted practically at his navel.

He bursts out laughing, “I have no idea! You’d think I would’ve gotten better at tying a tie after doing it for so long.”

“Yeah, I would’ve,” you say, unknotting and resizing it. “but knowing you it makes a lot of sense.”

Draco shakes his head at you. “I’m somewhere between loving you and hating you.”

You finish his tie and screw with his hair a little bit. “Well, if you hate me, I guess you’ll have to find someone else to make you look presentable,” you smirk and kiss his cheek. “Now, come on. We’re gonna be late.”

The two of you apparate. You stand in front of the school and now you’re starting to feel nervous. You take Draco’s arm and then a deep breath.

The first person who greets you is Neville Longbottom. He surely aged like fine wine. Wow, dorky little Neville really grew up. You give him a smile and a polite nod; he does the same back, only his face drops slightly when he notices who you’re with.

You keep walking. Your husband gives you a look. “I told you we should’ve stayed home,” he frowns.

“It’s fine, love.” You squeeze his arm a bit tighter. You pass a small door and you feel a smile creep onto your face. “Remember this?”

He follows your gaze to the door. “Oh my- yes! How could I forget?” It was the closet that the two of you would sneak off to from time to time. “Lotta good memories in there.”

“Y/N?” a familiar voice calls. “Y/N, is that you?”

You turn around to the source of the voice. “Oh my Godric, Harry Potter!” You chirp as he approaches you. Draco tenses up at your side and you give his arm another reassuring squeeze. “Wow, I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?”

“Good,” he smiles. “how about you? Did- are you two married, now?”

You bite your lip, looking to your husband. He can’t help but grin at you. “Yeah,” Draco replies, a bit sheepish.

“Oh, thank God! We were all hoping you would,” Harry says, sounding completely genuine, which slightly confuses the two of you.

You furrow your brows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” He snickers lightheartedly. “You two kind of bring out the best in each other. You always seemed so happy together. I dunno. It just made sense,” he shrugs. “M'glad to see you guys here. No hard feelings, Malfoy.”

The two men shake hands and you can’t help but feel relieved. Harry leaves to go back to his own wife.

You lean over to the blond on your arm. “Feeling any better?”

He looks down at you, beaming. “Yeah. I was thinking though, before we go in for dinner, or whatever,” he’s got this mischievous look on his face. “maybe, we could stop by that closet for old time’s sake.”

“You practically read my mind,” you smirk as the two of you begin rushing back in the direction of the closet.

In which Sherlock comes back after pretending to be dead for two years, finds John moved out of Baker Street and nearly engaged. He’d deduced two possible reactions… but not this.


Of all the outcomes Sherlock had prepared himself for, this was not one of them. There had been two scenarios in his head, two ways John’s emotions could play out. Shock was, in both scenarios, naturally the primary stage. That is logically what happens when a previously thought dead person presents themselves. It was the stages that came after the shock is where it got tricky, given that Sherlock had to take into factor that they were surrounded by the public eye, in a very crowded, very upscale restaurant. It was where the road split. Road one: Shock would be followed by disbelieve, perhaps tears, but most likely not with John. No, it was more likely disbelief would lead to laughter, the slightly bitter kind that Sherlock could picture on John’s face, the kind that would melt into relief, maybe even a slightly uncharacteristic hug. It might be a briefer display of emotion due to the public eye but at least Sherlock would know it was alright now.

The second road was not preferred but it ended the same. On this path anger followed the shock, maybe John stormed out of the restaurant, maybe delivered Sherlock a rightly deserved punch… But they were together in the end. Sherlock was forgiven in the end.

He never thought, however, that the stage of anger would be so prolonged. He never imagined that John wouldn’t eventually get along to embracing his lost best friend. Sherlock never pictured John leaving him standing alone on the curb of a dumpy fish and chip place with a bloody nose.

Ms. Hudson, on the other hand, had had exactly the reaction Sherlock had predicted when he walked into 221B. She’d screamed, cried, screamed again when he placed a gentle hand on her arm, and proceeded to alternate between the two for the next hour. Sherlock could barely focus on her however, only being able to think about how, as she wrapped him in a very tight hug, he would do anything to have experienced this reaction twice that night.

“Oh Sherlock,” Ms. Hudson patted his cheek fondly, a smile brightening her face, “I take it you’ve seen John?”

Sherlock tense, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

She laughed delightedly, squeezing his hand before bustling into the kitchen, “I’ll get the kettle on for you two, then.”

Sherlock unknotted his scarf, hanging it on the familiar coat hanger, taking note in the back of his mind the relief that filled his chest at being, well, home, “Sorry?”

Ms. Hudson looked over her shoulder, “Well, I gather he’ll be around shortly, yes?”

Sherlock froze half way through shrugging out of his coat, the thought hitting him harder than he expected. Would he?

“Yes.” Sherlock said stiffly, dropping his coat over a chair—John’s chair—with a flourish, “Yes, of course. Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Ms. Hudson gave him another firm kiss on the cheek and a Oh Sherlock, do play some violin for me tomorrow. I can’t tell you how I’ve missed it, and left him to “get settled.”

Sherlock had prepared the tea with shaking fingers. Of course John would be around. He wouldn’t let the night end like it had would he? He’d want to see Sherlock. Definitely. John was a man of answers, and he had two years worth of questions to ask. Sherlock had poured the water into the tea pot, set out two cups (he’d looked for John’s favorite mug only to find it no longer in the cupboard), milk, and sugar. He’d put it all on a tray, set it rather too harshly onto the coffee table, fell into his chair…

And the waiting had begun.

Sherlock was very good at sitting still usually. He could go days on end without speaking, without moving. But he couldn’t seem to manage it tonight.

He paced, drummed his fingers, watched the clock. By the time he decided to change into his pajamas, it was nearly two in the morning and he had already retuned his violin and stabbed the fireplace mantle approximately 57 times. The tea was cold and he hadn’t had a drop. He hung his coat up from its place on John’s chair, fluffing the flag pillow and smoothing the velvet out.

It was two thirty and Sherlock listened to Ms. Hudson’s bedroom door close downstairs. No doubt she had been waiting up for John. She’d given up. He wouldn’t.

Sherlock kept his phone in hand. John may call rather than come over now that it was so late. He had a…fiancé now, after all. Sherlock swallowed hard at the thought, checking his phone again. Another outcome Sherlock had not expected. Of course, he felt foolish now, thinking John had—thinking John could ever feel… whatever Sherlock had felt. Whatever Sherlock feels. That it was John and him, him and John. He never dreamt that there could be any other version of either of their lives, he never thought…

Sherlock pressed his hands over his eyes.

But perhaps he should not have left for two years. For a so-called genius, he seemed to have a habit of realizing things too late when it came to John Watson. Maybe one could only be a genius in one aspect of life, one field. Sherlock considered this. If that was the case, he’d gladly trade his knowledge of chemistry, of crime, of anything, for an upstanding understanding of John. Just John. It may not be more useful in his line of work. But he would be happier. Emotionally. Sherlock blinked at the realization. He was surprised, but it felt… true.

It was approaching four in the morning when Sherlock resigned to his bed. He couldn’t stare at the empty chair across from him any longer. If he did he was worried he may throw something, or miss the mantlepiece and stab himself instead with the amount he’d been at it. He let his phone rest on his chest, fingertips to his chin.

He didn’t want to admit it, but his hopes were crumbling around him. John was not calling. John was not coming up the stairs. John had left him on the curb after hitting him once, twice, three times. He found that his chest hurt more than his cheek or nose.

Sherlock was just beginning to resign himself to a few more hours of sitting completely still until it was considered a socially acceptable hour to rise and start a day in the life of the living, when his phone buzzed against his ribs, shocking Sherlock’s eyes open.

John

The screen said John.

Sherlock had barely picked up before he was saying his name.

He was met with a few beats of silence and then, slowly, “You’re awake.”

Sherlock felt pinned against the mattress, “You don’t sound surprised.”

The response was more immediate this time, “I’m not.”

You’re awake.”

Sherlock nearly closed his eyes at the familiar scoff, “Yes, of course I’m awake.”

“I… I’m not surprised… either.” Sherlock had never struggled for words so much in his life.

Silence followed and Sherlock thought he heard John pouring himself tea, or maybe a drink.

“Jesus,” A chair scooted back over the line and John sighed as he sat now, “I’ve not a clue what to say. How’s the nose?”

Sherlock felt himself smile a little at the comment. This was the most normal he had felt in two entire years, “Not as bad as the ribs.”

John chuckled softly, the way he did when he was confused, “What? I didn’t hit you in the ribs.”

“No. You didn’t.”

Silence followed again. Sherlock heard John’s breathing stop and restart, “Sherlock-“

“Don’t worry, I’m okay-“

“No, that’s not the point, Sherlock, the point is that you let me- You let me knock you around when someone else had been doing god knows what god knows where.”

“Don’t worry, you’re much gentler than Serbian interrogators.”

He heard John set his tea down too hard, “What? I- Oh my god, I swear, if you’re joking-“

“I don’t joke.”

Another laugh, this time disbelieving. It sent another shock of relief through Sherlock, “Yes you do, Jesus, Jesus-“

“John. I’m okay-“

“Well, you were dead this morning!”

John’s breathing was harsh over the phone. Sherlock could picture him rubbing his eyes. Sherlock just listened for a moment to the familiar sound. He didn’t know how to start. Sorry was nothing, not what was needed, it wasn’t enough.

“John…” Sherlock let out a breath, “I-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re-“

“I wanted to tell you so many times-“

“God, did you now?” John was nearly fuming again, “That’s the first time you haven’t given into one of your impulses.”

Sherlock closed his eyes. Hardly, John. Hardly.

Sherlock breathed deeply through his nose, “You’re right. I should know better.”

Sherlock heard a clatter that sounded like John throwing his cup in the sink, “Yes. Yes, you should.”

“Maybe I’ll give into one right now.”

A beat of silence, “What?”

Sherlock was already halfway to the door, “I’m coming over.”

The laugh was back, nervous and relieved this time, “Sherlock it’s nearly five-“

“I’m giving into an impulse, John.”

“Right…” A chair scraped back, “Yes, okay. Alright.”

“I’ll catch a cab. Text me the address, would you?”

Sherlock thought he heard a hitch in breath, a small sniff maybe. It made his chest ache, “Yeah.”

Sherlock shrugged half way into his coat, “Okay-“

“Right, can we not say goodbye?”

Sherlock’s brows furrowed, “John?”

“’s just the last time you said…” John couldn’t seem to finish but he didn’t have to.

Sherlock understood. He understood and he knew he’d never utter the word ‘goodbye’ to John Watson again.

“See you soon, John.”

Olicity Drabble~ Consequences

Originally posted by itsmamukibhanji

So this would by my dream chat between Oliver and Felicity in say 5x20. This has no chance in hell of happening but hey it made me feel so much better! Enjoy! 

Consequences 

“That door still makes a lot of noise doesn’t it?” she lightly hollered from her seated position along the dust laden floor. He stopped at the midway of the once often used stairs. The time spent unused made them feel weak as if time itself had caused the iron to rot from the inside. Her red rimmed eyes flew towards as he lumbered downward; in turn he gazed at her sadly. Her once bright eyes no longer lit up when he entered the room, now they flickered with despair at the state of their once unbreakable bond.

His nose crinkled slightly in faded humor, “Felicity you know the entire police department is looking for you right?” 

He watched her head tilt in disinterest, “You know I never noticed how damp and dark this place actually was…I guess it takes a change of perspective to see what’s really there doesn’t it?” 

Oliver held back a pained sighed, “How drunk are you?” 

She hiccupped but it wasn’t the one he’d expected, “I’m sober Oliver or should I say Ollie since he’s the person you’ve become since you chose to fight for a relationship with Susan.” 

He padded down the few remaining hard steps and didn’t reply until his feet were over the hard, cold, and still wet cement of the old lair’s unforgiving floors. “So you’re starting with the cheap shots I see…” 

She snapped her head and glared darkly, “No, I’d just rather avoid another pointless conversation with a man I barely know.” 

He shoved his nervous fingers into his pockets and crossed the empty room. She kept her rigid body pressed against the furthest pillar as he himself used to do. Her usually perfect blonde hair was now almost dirty blonde, her nails were chipped, her cuticles were bleeding along the sides, and her skin was pale. “I didn’t come here to hurt you Felicity, I just came to talk,” he breathed in torment as the light flickered above her face. 

She shot those dark, grey, stormy eyes at him for a moment before they fell back to her knotted fingers. Her once brightly colored lips now cracked as she curved them into a dark smile, “Hmmm now you want to talk. Isn’t that just great,” she sneered snidely.  

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Auston Matthews #2 - Game Six

@memz-elizabeth- asked: Hi can i get an imagine please? Can i get an Auston Matthews one about the loss of the Stanley cup? a lot of fluff and cuteness please! thanks

So sorry this came out much later than expected. I think I caught a cold from a friend of mine who neglected to tell me she was sick and that I shared a drink with. This was super fun to write because who doesn’t love fluff? I know I do. I hope you enjoy this! 


The great thing about game six of the playoffs taking place at home was that you got to see your boyfriend Auston play live. What wasn’t so great was them losing and you having to watch first hand as they skated heartbroken off of the ice. When all of the parents and significant others gathered to meet them outside of the locker room you went as well but hung towards the back. You wanted Auston to see his parents first since he would likely be riding back with you. It had been Mitch’s turn to drive the carpool and by you bringing your car it gave Auston the room to decide if he wanted to be alone or not.

Your phone buzzed with condolences for Auston from your friends and you answered a few as you waited for your boyfriend to emerge. Auston was one of the last ones out likely because the media wanted to pester him with questions and he made a beeline for his parents, not noticing you. Though usually towering over people with his broad shoulders and 6’3” frame, the way he hunched in on himself gave the impression he was much smaller. You made no attempt to move from your spot against the wall. This was a private moment for Auston and his family and you didn’t want to interrupt.

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80. Calming the others anger (with sex)

Word Count: 887
Written by: @lovelynemesis

Originally posted by perfectfeelings

You heard the door slam as you were in the shower. You stopped to listen when you heard things being thrown around and slammed down. You knew today was going to be rough for Bucky, but it must have been much worse. You sighed and finished washing your hair.

You stepped out, dried yourself off, and wrapped yourself in Bucky’s robe that was hanging on the back of the bathroom door. You walked into the living room to see the things on the console table were toppled over and scattered on the floor. You continued into the kitchen to see Bucky standing against the island with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes closed. You could tell he was biting the instead of his lip by the hard set of his jaw. He didn’t acknowledge your presence, but he knew you were there.

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jeemyjamz  asked:

This prompt idea has been bugging me for a few days and since I don't have the writing prowess to jot my thoughts into words...you up for writing a one-shot where Betty takes Jughead on their first date where she sets up a makeshift drive in by the lake knowing how much Jug misses it

I am always up for a good old fashioned writing challenge, my friend!
***


“Betty, I don’t understand why I’m blind folded? Not all of us have the natural grace of a seasoned athlete, like you”

Jughead grumbled underneath the tie wrapped around his eyes, tripping over a thick tree limb.

Betty couldn’t help the tiny giggle that escaped as she helped her very clumsy date stand upright.


“ oh hush juggie, this is supposed to be a fun surprise, you don’t get to have too many first dates.” She said tugging him along.

Jughead let her pull him pouting,

“Well it smells like nature and outside”

Betty snorted and he finally said what had been on his mind since she had asked him on this date.

“I know I haven’t been on many of these, or even one of these, but it’s to my understanding that the boy should ask the girl on the first date and probably do most of the planning?”

He heard Betty huff out a breath and knew she was getting ready to rant. This was one of his favorite sides of Betty.

“Says who? There is no rule that states men have exclusive rights to first dates, that is just a societal misconception made up by egotistical macho men who want to show they are the smarter sex. I planned this date because I wanted too.”

She got quiet for a second before she continued

“Also it didn’t seem like you were getting ready to ask me anytime soon so, I was being proactive.”

Jughead blushed deep scarlet and as soon as he opened his mouth to speak she beat him to it.

“Anyway you can stop complaining we’re here.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“So I can take this thing off my face?”

He felt it being unknotted before it fell to the flor in front of him.

He almost wanted to put it back on to make sure what he was seeing in front of him was real.

There in the middle of the woods was a huge white sheet held up by two trees right by the river. An old fashioned projector that he recognized from the drive in, (it was his favorite one he would watch movies on the wall with that one for hours,)was propped a distance from it and there was a picnic blanket laid out right in front of the sheet.
His eyes immediately found all the food and his stomach growled involuntarily.
On the blanket was piles of film reels from all different types of genres.

His very own riverside drive in.

He heard Betty clear her threat from behind him

“I know it’s not the drive in, but I know how bad you miss that place and I managed to snag a few things before they tore it down, i was gonna just give them to you, but I figured this might be better…”

She trailed off playing with her fingers waiting for his response.

He stared at her for what felt like ages, watching her wiggle a little under his gaze.

When finally he took two large strides and had her wrapped up in his arms and his mouth on hers.

She tasted like mint toothpaste and strawberries and cream.

He had never tasted anything that good in his life.

And he’d tasted plenty of things.

When they both pulled away for air she laughed

“So I guess you like it?”

He pulled her back in kissing her slowly before pulling away

“Best first date ever.”

Where I Lay my Head

So Killian’s voice in ‘Sleeping Arrangements’ has taken on tentacles and consumed me. Here’s a little piece to tide you over.

Me: Honeymoon fluff!

Reality: Not even close.


She clings tight to him when its over, when she’s back from that wretched fairy’s hellhole and in his arms, and has seen her parents and son safe.

She clings tight to him and he does to her because she was in his bloody arms when the curse hit and then she wasn’t and he needs to feel her against him to breathe.

So really, at first he doesn’t think anything of it.

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So I wrote a thing

I totally don’t know what to title this but uh maybe give this a read?? I’ve never written newsies stuff before and nobody proofread it so don’t judge too harshly please!
—————————————-

The first time Davey has an attack in front of Jack he runs to hide it. Makes up a stuttered excuse about going to the bathroom and avoids Jacks usual friendly pats on the back just so he won’t notice he’s shaking. They were with Crutchie and Spot and Racetrack in a place that was too crowded, too loud, too much. David had only met Jack a few days earlier, considering he’d just transferred, and he desperately didn’t want the reputation of the ‘panicky scared freak’ that he’d had at his old school.

So when in the middle of a conversation he felt the familiar drumming of his heart and lump rising in his throat David gently pushed Jacks arm off of him. This earned a confused look from the table and a concerned “You okay Dave?” from Jack.

Dave. The lump in Davids throat grew at least two sizes larger and he stumbled out of the seat, glad that it was probably too dark to see the blush taking over his face. “B-bathroom” Silently cursing his stutter he rushed off before anyone could stop him. When the loud chatter of conversation seemed to bleed through the walls of the abandoned restroom it was all David could do to keep from sliding down the wall and crying.

“I 2 3 4 5” Slowly counting and going through his routine breathing exercises David felt his pulse slow and the lump in his throat unknot itself. Taking one last deep breath he walked back out to the group and made up some lame excuse about getting caught up when his mom called him. This led to the boys all teasing him about how ‘sweet’ he was, brushing off his weird behavior as just being David.

————————————–

The second time he has an attack around Jack it’s during lunch. It was Davids second week at their school, and most of the boys had learned that David was not touchy. Although he was affectionate he showed it through exasperated sighs and sheepish smiles, because touch just wasn’t his thing (giving or receiving).

Jack was the one exception. The way he’d casually place an arm around Daveys shoulders and how he’d always greet him with a hug all made Dave feel safe. Jack was always patient, at first he’d constantly asked permission but within just a few days he and Davey had learned to communicate almost telepathically. And the boys all recognized this and respected it. Davey didn’t like being touched and if you did something he wasn’t comfortable with then you had to deal with a pissed off Jack Kelly.

So when Skittery’s (slightly annoying) cousin Franky sat a little too close to David during lunch it set red flags off in his mind. Choking out laughs and keeping his gaze fixed on Jack and Racetrack who were on his other side David tried to pretend he was fine. Tried to pretend that just the body heat of Franky wasn’t making his hands shake and his heart hammer.

“Ugh Collins is such a dick Davey!” Groaned Jack overdramatically as he chomped down on his pizza. “I mean who assigns a packet over the weekend?!” Scrunching his nose as his friend talked with his mouth full David gave Jack a stern look, smiling when Jack swallowed his food before speaking again. “Over freaking Romeo and Juliet! The most overrated book of all time!”

Across the table Romeo let out an offended scoff, which made them all burst into giggles. David had almost forgotten about The over enthusiastic kid sitting much too close to him until Franky casually draped an arm around Davids shoulders as he was laughing. Nobody else seemed to have noticed until Davids laugh suddenly cut off and he sat rigid.

Racetrack was the first to notice what had made David suddenly so uncomfortable and a fierce glare was sent to Franky. A few others (Romeo, Skittery, and Blink) also sent dirty looks to Franky but he didn’t seem to get the message.

Then Jack noticed, and right underneath the surface he was livid. “Hey Franky” he calmly greeted in a saccharine sweet voice. The mentioned boy leaned over David to hear what Jack had to say, which only made it worse.
Squeezing his eyes shut and hunching his shoulders closer to him David tried to slow his breathing. “How about you let go of Davey here okay Franky?” There was a sickly sweet venom to Jacks voice as he smiled at Franky.

Leaning back into his seat Franky laughed, “Aw, he yours Jack?” The comment itself made Jack nearly boil over but what happened next made the entire table mad.

He squeezed David and pulled him into his side, ruffling his hair. Shooting out of his seat David dashed towards an abandoned hallway, his legs shaking so bad he nearly couldn’t stand.

“He don’t belong to nobody you dick” A Seething Jack shoved Franky’s chair back before running after Dave.

'Not today not here’ David thought frantically. Everything around him faded into a blur as he gasped like a fish out of water, too panicked to even think of his breathing exercises. Slipping down to the floor he tried desperately to think of anything, resorting to tears when it didn’t work.

“Shit Dave”

The discord inside Davids head calmed the tiniest bit as he recognized Jacks voice. But he was acutely aware of the fact that Jack was panicking a little bit too.

“Hey hey just breath okay? Count with me bud”

A barely managed nod enough for Jack and he was surprised when David grabbed one of his hands, squeezing tight. Wasn’t affection the reason for Davids current panic anyways?

“1 2 3”

Squeezing Davids hand Jack sat down across from him, letting out a relieved sigh when his counts were finally repeated.

“1-1 2 3”

They continued counting until Jack felt Davids hands stop shaking and his stutter all but vanished. “I’m sorry Davey, I knew Franky was sitting too close but I figured it wouldn’t get too bad.” The two sat with their back against the lockers, Jacks arm draped across Davids shoulders and David leaning into his side for support.

“Its fine, I get these all the time” Jacks breathing hitched and David winced. 'He thinks you’re a freak, a wimp. He’s gonna leave you like everyone else’

But Jack didn’t leave, he squeezed David just a little bit closer to his side. “Why didn’t you tell me Dave? Is that why you left at dinner the other night?”

And so they spent lunch and their free period discussing Davids anxiety and how Jack could help.

—————————————-

The third time David has an attack around Jack, Jack does everything he can to prevent it.

Several of their friends were in the band and so he’d joined Jack and Crutchie for a football game to see their friends play. David had yet to attend any games because a football game was just about the worst place for somebody with sensory overload issues and a pretty severe anxiety. But Jack promised he’d be with him all night, and so David allowed his best friends to drag him to the game.

“Popcorn Dave?” Crutchie asked, holding it out towards his friend who shook his head. Currently the three sat towards the top of the bleachers because it was less crowded and Jack assured David 'you can see better up here anyways’. Jack and Crutchie sat on either side of him, David leaning into Jack who had an arm wrapped protectively around his shoulders. After a particularly bad call yelling and shouts rippled throughout the audience and David nuzzled into Jacks scarf.

“It’s too loud Jacky” Wincing at the quiet tone of the curly haired boy who was hiding in his scarf Jack nodded.

Pushing Davids hair off of his forehead Jack placed a light affectionate kiss on the exposed patch of skin, which only made David burrow into his scarf more in an attempt to hide his intense blush. “How about I go get you a hat or some earmuffs?” After a second of hesitation David nodded because Jack wouldn’t take longer than five minutes and Crutchie himself had an anxiety problem and knew what to do if an attack happened. “I’ll be right back okay?” Gently Jack shifted David over towards Crutchie, who smiled brightly and held Davids hand to assure him that somebody was still with him.

“Thanks Jack”

Watching Jack walk down the stairs and away from him made Davids heart panic. He knew it wasn’t healthy, this unsafe feeling he got whenever Jack wasn’t around. Pushing it down he instead leaned into Crutchie who jumped a little in surprise because David normally wasn’t comfortable with much more than occasional hand holding.
A moment later he smiled and melted into the affectionate gesture, holding Davids hand just a bit tighter.

“Dave do you even like football?” Sheepishly David shook his head and Crutchie laughed. “Me neither, but Jack sure does have a way of convincing people to do things. Wanna watch Netflix on my phone instead?” With a nod David snuggled even further into Crutchies side.

That’s how Jack found them 10 minutes later when he returned with nachos and a cute red and yellow beanie for David. When he saw his best friend since kindergarten and his new best friend cuddled up on the bleachers and giggling hysterically at something on a phone screen he couldn’t stop the affectionate smile on his face. God he had already known he loved Crutchie, but now Dave comes along with his crystal clear blue eyes and his curly hair and sarcastic comments and random facts. Jack should feel guilty shouldn’t he? After all somebody had once told him it was impossible to actually love 2 people at the same time.

Then again, when did Jack Kelly ever listen to what anybody else said?

—————————————-
The fourth time, Jack’s the one who causes it.

He really hadn’t meant to, honest. What kind of dick would intentionally cause their friend/crush to have an anxiety attack?

A few weeks ago Jack had confessed to Crutchie, babbling about how he was in love with his best friend for what seemed like hours until Crutchie just laughed and pressed his lips against his. Jack thought that once he had Crutchie his love for Davey would go away. Not that he wanted it to but it made him feel guilty.

Little did he know Crutchie felt the same way.

When he’d first heard they were together Davids heart sank. The two people he had slowly fallen in love with were in love with each other. There would probably be no more safe touches, no more protective arms placed around shoulders. No mumbled Daves, and no bright Daveys. Jack and Crutchie had each other…so why would they need him?

And so he drifted. It started with little things like denying requests to hang out, or 'forgetting’ to respond to calls and messages. (Both of them knew Davey didn’t just forget things) And then it turned into avoiding them at halls, sitting next to Skittery who sat on the other side of the table from his usual spot. The last straw was when David completely walked past their table and took a seat on the ground, leaned against the wall.

“Okay that’s it. I gotta see what’s up with him.” Standing up from his seat Jack made his way over to David.

“Jack Kelly do not confront Dave- I can’t believe you!” Skillfully avoiding students Crutchie bounded over to Jack (or at least as close to bounding as one could get when they had to use a crutch) in an attempt to stop him. “Jack you’re going to overwhelm him! Just wait and we can ask him to come over after school or something and ask then!”

Turning to face Crutchie Jack sighed. “But he won’t Crutch. He’s avoiding us and I have to know why” Continuing his speedy approach towards Dave he stopped only when he was almost directly in front of Dave.

Red flag.

Despite the fact that he knew Jack would never actually hurt him David recognized the fact that he was now trapped against the wall. And that was no good. No good no good no no no no no. Swallowing his strawberry David kept his gaze fixed on Jacks shoes. “Y-yes?”

In a tone that came off much harsher than intended Jack asked him, “Why are you avoiding Crutch and I?”

Shaking hands.

Gripping his hands together Davids shoulders tensed up and he scrambled for an answer. How do you tell your best friend that you like both him and his boyfriend? “I-Its nothing”

“Oh so you just decided to be a dick and avoid us because of 'nothing’?” The moment the words came out Jack regretted them. Everybody had problems, and Jacks was not thinking before he spoke. “Shit I’m sorry I didn’t mean that Davey i-i just” kneeling down to Davids level he reached an arm out to pay him and flinched when David shied away, shaking violently.

“Oh now you’ve gone and done it Jack Kelly” Crutchie whispered harshly. Shooting a glare at his boyfriend he plopped onto the floor, fixing his gaze on David. “Hey hey can you count for me Davey? Just repeat after me, 12345”

Breathing shallowly David tried to copy, stutter and getting stuck and growing more and more frustrated until tears shone in his eyes.

“Dave”

He hated to admit it but god Davey had missed the sound of his nickname rolling off Jacks tongue. Missed it so much that just hearing it calmed him down. Missed it so much that he grabbed onto both Jack and Crutchie hands tightly.

Neither said anything but a glance was shared between them that seemed to convey everything they’d wanted to tell each other.

They both loved Davey, and each other. It was messy and different but it was what had happened.

A hesitant but protective arm was wrapped around Daveys shoulders and he nearly cried again, gripping Crutchies hand even tighter when he started to try and move. “I thought you didn’t need me anymore.”

Jack threw Davey an incredulous look and softly kissed his forehead. “We’ll always need you you goof.” Burrowing into his sweater David thought he would combust when Crutchie scooted next to him and placed another kiss on his forehead.

“B-but you guys have each other and I don’t wanna get in the way of your relationship because you guys deserve to be happy and I don’t wanna be an awkward third wheel so-” His rambles were cut off by Jacks lips on his. David 'walking mouth’ Jacobs was speechless as he looked between Crutchie and Jack in panic.

'Jack just kissed me??! In front of his boyfriend??’ When Crutchie leaned over to repeat Jacks actions David was even more confused. “I-I think I missed something here?”
His voice rose at least 2 octaves as he continued to panic.

“Well you see, I think I like you Davey.” The casual way Jack said it made David snort despite his panic.

“But, but Jack you have a boyfriend?”

“Yes I like him too” As if to prove the point Jack kissed Crutchie. For a minute or so David just opened and closed his mouth without making any actual noise. Crutchie had to bite back a laugh, figuring David would be a little offended if he laughed.

After the minute of David gaping like a fish Crutchie spoke up, “I like you too y'know Dave, and Jack. And we have a sneaking suspicion you like us both too.” Both older boys took the blush that crept up Davids neck as a yes. “So we were wondering if you wanted to be a relationship with us?”

At the renewed look of panic on Davids face Jack scrambled to calm him down. “It’s gonna be messy and weird and if you don’t want to then that’s fine. But we really do both like you Dave.” Squeezing his anxious friends shoulders Jack chewed on his lip as he waited for an answer.

“I-I’d like that, I really would.” Smiling shyly at his friends, boyfriends now he supposed, David nodded. “Yeah I think I’ll like that.”

Can they hear?

I just came home from the gym and took a quick shower,

“Kian? Jc?” I shouted

“In here!” Kian shouted

I headed into the editing room where kian and Jc were with headphones looking at their rather large computer screens. I smiled and went to give kian a kiss, he was so focused… Which made it extremely attractive. He quickly kissed me and laid his eyes back on the computer screen while moving the mouse around and replaying some clips over. I could tell he was tense, so me being witty I glanced at Jc and seen he was too into editing to even notice his surroundings which meant I was in the clear. I stood up looking over kians shoulder and rested my chin on his shoulder while moving my hands up and down slowly behind his back. I got up and started to rub his shoulders, I could tell he enjoyed it by the way his eyes relaxed at each time I unknotted a knot. Sneakily I slid my hands down to his waist and gripping not too tight his bulge, I looked at him and giggled as he bit his lip. He took off His headphones and sighed in sexual frustration looking at me,

“Baby what are you doing?” He asks

“Nothing, I’m just… Helping you relax?” I say giving him puppy dog eyes while I bite my lip

I could see his eyes traveled from my eyes to my lips,

“Jcs right there… And I’m editing… You’re making it really hard to” he says

“He doesn’t seem to know what’s going on, and am I? Maybe we could…” I say signaling him

“You know I would but I have to finish up this video” he says

I get closer to him and whisper in his ear,

“Maybe you could finish me” while lightly nibbling on his ear

He groaned, “fuck..” He says under his breath

In that room we both felt heated, but Jc on the other hand… He was just editing away

“Jc!” Kian shouted

“Yeah?” He says taking off one ear set

“Uh.. I think I’ll finish editing later. I need to help y/n with something” kian says

“Yeah no prob. Just make sure to finish it” Jc says

Kian nodded then we headed upstairs, I was in front of him walking up the stairs. He slapped my ass and it made me giggle running up. He slammed the door shut and locked it,

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you baby” he says in a husky voice which caused me to bite his lip

“Please do” I responded

As we laid down we started making out, he gripped my ass and began to spank it which I yelped because I loved when he did that

“Now get on your stomach” he demanded

I did as told and lifted my ass into position, “God this is so worth it…” He says

I could feel his tip teasing me, “just do it!” I say

“I will, but you have to be quiet, Jc downstairs and Dom is a couple rooms down” he says

I nodded, then I felt him. He trusted in me and out of me. So fast,

“Fuck baby, faster… Harder” I moaned

As he continued to thrust into me he managed to continue to slap my ass and moaned. After we both finished we laid there, hot and sweaty.

“So why out of all day did you choose today to be so sexual with me?” He asks

“I like to see you edit, it’s turns me on” I laugh

He laughs too, “you’re weird babe” he says

We throw on our clothes and head back downstairs where Jc gave us the look,

“Dude I could hear you guys through my EARPHONES” Jc laughs

Kian laughed and there came Dom rushing down the stairs,

“Kiian Kiiiiian faster!” Dom mocked

“Shut up Dom” I laughed

“Surprised that you don’t like to be called daddy” Dom jokingly said to kian

“You’ll hear a lot more” kian responds

So much for being quiet…

swagness2001  asked:

I was reading your headcanons for Hikaku and. Mito and Hikaku? She may have married Hashirama, but come on. A Sensible Being. From the Uchiha clan? What god sent this gift? Hashirama didn't realize the only reason he made peace with the Uchiha was because Mito married them to Hikaku.

Omg I LOVE this. Have some ridiculousness, I couldn’t resist. 


“He’s pretty, isn’t he?” Mito asks thoughtfully, eyeing the Uchiha currently arguing—more or less politely—with Izuna. Hashirama caught enough of their conversation earlier to know that Hikaku is the main reason Izuna even agreed to peace talks, though those talks look like they’re going to go up in smoke if something doesn’t change drastically.

Hashirama blinks at his wife, then glances back at Hikaku, wondering if this is one of those things established couples are supposed to do. Looking at other people is healthy, right? And Hikaku is definitely worth looking at—all the Uchiha are pretty, but Hikaku has finer bones than most of them, and the high ponytail emphasizes the delicate angles of his face. Hashirama caught a glimpse of him smiling at his younger cousin earlier—the cousin who then attached himself to a bewildered Tobirama and refused to be shaken loose—and he was lovely indeed.

“Very,” he agrees, offering Mito a smile, happy to make her happy.

“Hmm,” Mito offers thoughtfully, and snaps her fan shut. She glides away with the poise of a queen, cutting right through the Uchihas’ argument and somehow coming out on the other side with Hikaku on one arm and Izuna gaping behind them. Hikaku doesn’t look like he has any clue how it happened, either, but when Mito turns her empress smile on him he flushes and doesn’t try to pull away.

Hashirama might have looked deeper into it, because it’s Mito and she never does anything without a reason, but that’s the moment Madara and Tobirama get into another hair-pulling match and he has to bolt over and break them up. Wrangling them back to their respective corners pushes the matter entirely out of mind, and Hashirama forgets all about it.

It stays forgotten right up until he steps into their bedroom that night and finds Hikaku tied to the headboard with Mito perched on the mattress beside him, smiling like a tigress.

“Oh,” Hashirama says dumbly, and then “Oh,” as the pieces connect, because he might not have his wife’s mind for politics but he’s gotten a lot better at reading through the layers in each of her actions, and this one is clear. He chuckles, leaning over to kiss her gently, and then offers Hikaku a warm smile. “Hello. Just her, or both of us?”

Hikaku goes crimson, stutters, and then groans in clear mortification and closes his eyes, tipping his head back against the pillows. “Both of you,” he manages, almost a squeak.

“This is a test run,” Mito says cheerfully, and stands up to drop her robe to the floor. Hashirama watches her with admiration and no little hunger, because Mito is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and so devastatingly brilliant he can barely breathe when he looks at her sometimes.

From the sound Hikaku makes, he entirely agrees.

Mito laughs, leaning in to kiss Hashirama teasingly before she bends to offer Hikaku the same. Hashirama watches them, feeling the heat crawl through his blood and curl up his spine, and then prompts, “Test run?”

“Mmm.” Mito leans forward, the cascade of her scarlet hair tumbling free of its buns, and sprawls on the far side of Hikaku, sliding a possessive hand down his bare chest as she gives Hashirama a wicked smile. “If we all have fun and there are no objections, I can have a wedding scheduled within the week.”

His wife is an evil mastermind, Hashirama thinks fondly. He’s so glad she’s on his side, though he does feel a bit of pity for Madara, who keeps trying to oppose her. Leaning forward, he unknots the ropes holding Hikaku, and at Mito’s pout reminds her gently, “Bondage on the second date, Mito. Let’s see how he is with his hands this time.”

One of the hands in question slides up Hashirama’s shoulder, tentative but determined, and curls around the back of his neck. Hikaku puts just enough pressure behind the gesture to make it a question, and Hashirama goes gladly, kissing him thoroughly.

“I’m very good with them,” Hikaku promises, faintly breathless, when they separate, and his eyes are crimson and black in the low light of the bedroom.

Mito chuckles, looping an arm through Hashirama’s to pull him close. “Prove it,” she challenges, and tumbles Hashirama onto the bed with them.

(It’s a good night, and the look on Madara’s face the next morning when he bursts in to complain about Tobirama is very nearly better.)

Leave ‘Em On (Lin-Manuel x Reader)

Summary: Lin was ready to take you home before the night even started.

Word Count: 1,585

Warnings: Pretty suggestive, mentions of alcohol.

A/N: I’m kinda, sorta, really trash for suave!Lin and I was listening to trashy R&B which only encourages me more. I’m….really sorry for this. I had no idea how to title this.
____
____________________________

“You almost ready, sweetheart?” Lin called and you bent down to slip the back of your pumps around your heel before you snagged your clutch from where it rested on your dresser. You waltzed out into the living room and his eyes were drawn by the clicking of your heels. You would’ve smirked when he gaped at you if you hadn’t been so focused on the tie he was fumbling with. You rolled your eyes and moved to take it from his hands.

“You look good.” Lin murmured and you hummed a thank you as you focused on unknotting the silky material, breathing a sigh of relief when you got it untangled seamlessly. He took the opportunity to swoop down and capture your lips with his, tilting your chin up so he could kiss you fully. His lips were quick to trail from your mouth to your neck, leaving a wake of brief kisses in their path.

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Written for the Rogue One kink meme. 

Prompt:

Lugging all that heavy equipment around all day can’t be good for Baze’s poor back. Luckily his husband gives the best massages.

Basically any scenario (pre-Rogue One, everyone lives AU, doesn’t matter) where Baze gets pampered a bit because he’s old and tired and deserves love and comfort.


Set post-Scarif, as always sadder than planned, because hey it’s me.



Baze leans his blaster canon against the wall, then strips off the coolant tank with a tired sigh. The tank hits the stone floor with a loud thud that disturbs Chirrut who are meditating on the bed. Baze feels him studying him as he moves to the small portable stove they keep in their room and starts making tea. He trusts the rebel’s canteen with many things, but not with tea making.

“You don’t have to carry that thing around anymore you know?” Chirrut says.“Not while we’re on the base.”

“I know,” Baze replies.

And he does know. He knows that they are safe – as safe as anyone staying at an insurgent HQ in the middle of a civil war can be – that any threat to them that would require him to wield a weapon would be warned in ample time for him to fetch said weapon. Baze knows all of this, but twenty years of ingrained habit and the paranoia born of the harsh rules of survival are hard to shake. So he still carries his assault canon with him around on the base despite the stares it earns him and the fact that it makes his back and shoulder hurt like fire.

He’s not as young as he once was.

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J/C Fic - 

Set right at the close of this scene in S02E12

Personal Disclaimer: If you want to follow me after reading this, know that I am a shipper, and proud to be here. The only time I jump ship, is for a quick skinny dip into the warm waters. I mostly write S/C - very smutty - fic, which can be found: 

http://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingSummerBreeze


To Grieve for that Which Has Yet to be Lost


“Remind me not to get on your bad side, Sassenach.”

I sighed heavily, the weight of our world consuming me, “You be careful.”

He kissed me then, his lips, warm and cracked from the wind, lingered longer than he intended. I felt the pain and anger, the hurt and fear, all melt into Jamie’s palm as he held my face, his smile against my lips, warming my tired and achy body.  I felt my arms float up, to wrap around his neck, my feet, high on their toes, pulled him in close. Jamie made a soft sound, low in his throat. A mix of apprehensive, with so much going on, but a desire to seize the moment. This one glimmer of a second we had to ourselves. To feel like husband and wife. Man, and woman.

Thought gave way to desire, and desire succumbed to need, falling to its knees in submission. Jamie lifted me to the table in the centre of the room. My legs, too heavy and thick from my clothes to circle his thighs, simply dangled above the wooden floor, as he ushered us over. He rested me atop the table, our lips never parting. I struggled to remove his clothes, desperate for his skin on mine. With the weather, all the men around us, and this bloody war, the moments we had, were always stolen. Never given to us freely, but pulled out from under the noses of those in the night, like thieves. When the pressure got too intense to ignore, he would pull me aside, ducking into the forest, or roll over top me in our barely hidden tent. His time inside my body, my body yielding to his, were so rushed and exposed that our minds had little time to catch up to our actions, only acknowledging the passionate kiss, or hard thrust hitting my cervix and stifled cry of pleasure, when it had long since been over.

But now, I didn’t care if the whole damn British army knocked down our door. Whether they stood and watched, or ran us through. My only hope in that case, was that if their sword penetrated Jamie’s back, to pierce his heart, the sword was long enough to strike me through as well. I lived for him, and he for me, and I bloody well planned on taking that trip to heaven or hell, right alongside him.

Our lips divided as I struggled to unknot his neck kerchief. His fingers aided me, our joint efforts fruitful as we flung the small piece of fabric aside. I felt Jamie’s lips touch my neck, sucking and biting, the craving for flesh, instinctive, deep in the marrow of our bones. We shed him of his clothes, the sound of weapons hitting the ground as his kilt fell to the floor.

The moment naked skin exposed itself to the dampness of the room, lips were quick to burn away the chill. My butting body shook the table, the complaints against the wooden floor, drowned in our passionate cries and grunting possession.

I wanted to fall from the table. I wanted to kneel at his feet and worship his manhood, as it stood proud, raised high from his groin, but Jamie stopped me. He pushed me back against the table, my body lying flat, as he shimmied the last of my skirts out from under my bum. He quickly grabbed my arms, hauling me forward, and pulling my shift above my head.

We were free.

Jamie grabbed my behind, his knuckles scraping the wood. I could see his face wince in pain, before he took my lips in his, and pulled me up against him, his cock finding home. Gasps of pleasure parted our lips as we stilled. I cried, out of anger, out of fear and pleasure, and out of a love for the man that belonged nowhere but in my arms and in my body. I rocked forward, urging him deeper, but pulled my head back to watch the emotions play across his face. He felt everything I did. Felt it as deep in his soul as I did mine.

I placed each hand on his cheeks, his eyes opening slowly, fixing on me as he made love to my body.

Jamie wiped my tears, “Please, dinna cry. I canna bear it.”

“I’m not sad, Jamie. Just stay in my arms forever, and I will never be sad.”

He smiled, but his eyes betrayed him. They weakened, and I could see the guards rise up from their restful sleep, holding the tears at bay. “Ah, mo nighean donn, even if you’re no with me, I always feel yer arms around my body.”

He continued his slow movement, sheathing himself with my body.

“If, in my final moment, a man charges toward me, pistol aimed to my breast, he will no bear a red coat and pistol for long. For I will know that is the end, and my eyes will close, and it will be you comin for me, to take me in yer arms. And when they find my body on that soggy moor,” he kissed me softly, his pulse jolting through my lips, before pulling away, “they will find me with the greatest of smiles upon my face.”

I shook my head out of disbelief, then nodded. “I will be there.”

“Good,” he smiled, genuinely. “Now, can I move quicker inside ya, Sassenach, my balls ache somethin fierce.”

I laughed a laugh that carried throughout my whole body, clenching my insides, that saw the most exquisite of looks crease Jamie’s features, before he sped up his movements inside me.

Jamie grunted with each thrust, his eyes, tight in concentration, would flutter open for the briefest of moments, smile at me, then they’d shut again. I grasped at his back, surely adding more scars with my nails to his skin. Jamie bent forward, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, pulling the flesh of my breast in to join, as much as he could, before he set them free with a pop and moved on to the other. I cried out, holding his face to my body. All thought escaped my mind as he drank from my dried well, but my nipples ached in the most stimulating of ways. A way I thought I had all but forgotten, but the memory flooded my body and I could feel my breast fill with the very thought and hope.

Jamie’s hands rounded my buttocks, pulling me tight against him as he picked me up, carrying me to the wall, pushing my fiery flesh against the cool frame, the burning fireplace next to us, doing little to fill the room. I arched at the shock, wrapping my legs around his waist, but he paid no attention to my gasp.  He pushed fiercely into my centre, his testicles slapping my body, like a palm hitting still water. He pushed up inside me, each time, my body rising higher and higher against the wall, cutting into my skin. Jamie’s position reached the parts of me that only he had the skill of reaching each time, with our lovemaking.

I reached between our bodies, tickling and tugging the wiry bits of hair I could feel above his cock. I jutted a finger out, grazing his pink flesh each time he pulled free of my body. Jamie gasped, his head falling to my shoulder.

“Do tha again, Sassenach,” he sighed urgently.

I could feel his saliva against my shoulder as his pace quickened. I did it again. Scraped my nail along his penis. He groaned, and pushed back in. Then out. I scraped it once more. We sang the song a few times before finally, he pulled out, lingering in the open air, with only the tip keeping my lips open for him. My fingers wrapping around him completely. I held his head close to my shoulder with my free hand, and with a sudden squeeze, I let go of his penis, and he plunged back in me with finality, calling out words in Gaelic I had never heard him say before. He filled my body, his warm semen splashing my insides and coating me in all he had to give. I was right behind him, my orgasm coursing through me angrily as Jamie moved a hand to my breast, pinching a nipple.

Our labored breath was the only proof of life, as we curled into each other against the wall. The dank room emerged around us once more, letting its cool air spear our skin, leaving gooseflesh in its violent wake.  I felt him shiver, and pulled him in closer.

“We should get dressed.” I loathed saying the words. I wanted my vocal chords ripped from my body before they could escape my mouth, but some things cannot be put off.

Jamie pulled back, but stayed protected within my embrace. His forehead fell to mine.

“See, Sassenach. It doesna matter what tomorrow brings. I’ll always be here. In your arms. You’ll always be a part of me, and I, you.”

Jamie kissed my forehead, then pulled free, making for our scattered clothes tossed about the floor. I watched him pick up my garments first. It was always his way. It didn’t matter if chills racked his body, he’d make sure I was safe and warm first. I was always first in his mind.

“Always with me,” I whispered back, as my abandoned arms fell, my hand falling to my stomach,palm pressed hard to my belly, knowing, and weeping inside.

(Pure, unadulterated feel-good comfort stuff, because sometimes you just need it. Post-episode 94 but spoilers are minimal.)


Vex'ahlia sleeps like the dead, blissfully free of dreams or emotions until she feels familiar, clever hands working at her armor. She groans, reluctant to return to consciousness, but can’t deny the relief each time a piece of stiff, mud-caked leather is pulled from her aching skin.

So she lets Percy turn her, rolling from nearly face-down onto her side so he can reach the clasps down the front. He leans over her, bed creaking. His lips ghost across her temple and settle by her ear.

“I’ve drawn a bath for you.”

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Hiding in the Impala Part Two

Pairing: Sam x Reader
Characters: the Reader, the Reader’s ex, Sam, Dean 
Warnings: reference to past abuse, violence, swearing, angst
Word count: 2284
Summary: After the Reader has been taken back to Sam and Dean’s motel, her ex finds them again. However, this time, Sam and Dean notice something off about him, something supernatural. 
A/N: Again, the original idea isn’t mine! This is an adaptation of @writingthingsisdifficult ‘s original work, which is seriously awesome and you all should check it out:)
Tag List: @jessabro101  @deascheck @cwstandsforcaswinchester @fralackles @danandphilforlife112 @rdy4thevoid @disneychic8 @deepbreathssammy @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove @evyiione @gallifreyansass @star-arm-and-shield @macymoosesuniverse @rosep16​ @arianacullen2008 @spectaculicious @spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove@evyiione @mogaruke@aliensdeservebetter@27bmm@craving-cas @spnfanficpond@amanda-teaches  @myplaceofthingsilove  @spectaculicious@bambinovak @bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@padackles2010 @mamaredd123@milkymilky-cocopuff @iwantthedean@zeppo-in-a-trenchcoat @spntrista @d-s-winchester@just-another-busy-fangirl@winchesterprincessbride@waywardjoy@supernaturalyobsessed@whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname@sandlee44@fangirl1802@kittenofdoomage @evyiione @winchestersmut@purgatoan@mogaruke @therewillbeblood @megansescape @taste-of-dean@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid  @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala@deathtonormalcy56@wildfirewinchester @notnaturalanahi@jensen-jarpad@impalaimagining@fangirlextraordinaire@itseverythingilike@jesspfly@lovekittykat21@mysteriouslyme81@mrswhozeewhatsis@aiaranradnay@supernatural-jackles@girl-next-door-writes@spnsasha@27bmm@spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove@spectaculicious@bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@spn-imagines-to-feel@spn-ficfanatic@cleverdame@saxxxology@jensen-jarpad @keepcalmandcarryondean dancingpanda137

Originally posted by telefilmaddictedforever

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Numbers (1/1)

Rating: M

Summary: Emma can’t help but wonder where she ranks. Killian reveals.

Warnings: Mentions of bigotry. 

It’s not like she’s kept track, per se.

Emma Swan has never cared about black books or numbers: for herself or her partners. After her first (and rather disastrous) relationship, men had been a one-and-done sort of deal. No sordid swapping of past tales. No coffee and eggs in the morning. And definitely no numbers (she had donated a fair amount to the Save Haiti Hotline when one guy was persistent about her digits.)

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