while he is sleeping in his grave

tacticalgrandma  asked:

non-chudley ask which location would you choose to fight each of the hamilton characters?

i’ve been preparing for this question my entire life. thank u. here are my thoughts

Alexander: i would fight alexander hamilton in his own office. i know it seems counterintuitive but i feel like i could distract him by destroying a bunch of his shit. our respective scrappiness would ensure a close match, there would probably be biting involved and it would culminate in me stabbing him in the chest with a letter opener

Burr: I don’t want to fight burr. i think it’d be really depressing, like beating up an old man. i’ll pass on this one

Eliza: eliza and i would fight in a sunlit baroque dining room at precisely 10:00am and it would be preceded by 15 minutes of drinking tea and having a very calm yet ominous and metaphor-laden conversation from opposite sides of the dining table. the fight would end in a tie where we both decide to spare each others lives and part ways with a newfound sense of mutual respect

Washington: i would literally fight this man anywhere. any time, any place, i will fight george washington, and lose magnificently

Angelica: angelica and i would recreate the blacksmith scene from Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl

Peggy: i would fight peggy in a grassy field dotted with wildflowers in the early autumn sunlight and it wouldnt be a real fight it’d be a pretend fight with our dog and then we’d kiss

Lafayette: i’d fight laf in the park next to my parents’ house because its where he got supremely fucked up one time in a humiliating defeat and his bad memories may give me the upper hand. JUST KIDDING not only would he kick my ass extremely easily he’d probably be charming and kind to me the entire time, and then i would feel bad

Laurens: i would fight laurens in bed. not in a sexy way, just because i feel like the only way i would stand a chance is by ambushing him in his sleep and smothering him

Mulligan: why would i bother honestly. i’d fight herc in a cemetery next to a freshly dug grave so he could just dunk me right in. i trust him to give me a proper burial and come back every once in a while to leave flowers

Maria: i wouldn’t fight maria what the fuck

Jefferson: here it is: i would fight jefferson in the parking lot behind a denny’s at 3 in the morning

Madison: i kind of just assumed madison and jefferson would attempt to tag-team me, therefore i would also fight madison in the denny’s parking lot. i use the word “fight” very loosely here since i feel like i would just have to yell at him or like gently tip him over or something

Philip: philip is a child but i would still fight him. maybe just a little though. maybe just a heated debate

KGIII: i would slap-fight king george in ye olde royal boxing ring surrounded by royal subjects and press photographers. he’d go down pretty quickly and hopefully i’d get to wear the cape

Don’t Tell Him - Steve Rogers x Reader

Originally posted by lolawinchesterr

A/N: your favorite absolute fucking mess is back and sicker than ever. (okay but seriously im really sick i think im gonna pass out just typing this)

Request: Could I request a Steve x reader with the prompts 69. “Why the hell are you bleeding!?” and 89. “I’m not leaving you” where the reader gets injured on a mission and tries to hide it from Steve? ( by @casuallysuperbcat )

Warnings: getting hurt, almost dying, angst, lil kissy kissy, probably some cursing, this also has a decent amount of other characters (and by other characters, i mean nat and tony)

Words 2102

Keep reading

  • What she says: im fine.
  • What she means: Can you BELIVE that actual human being Marius Pontmercy picked up Valjean's handkerchief and decided it was Cosette's so he could fantasize about her name being Ursula while he walked by her every day for months? Also, that this sweet gazelle child left her a long confused letter pouring his heart out to this girl he'd never talked to, and that once he did he forgets to introduce himself to the very end? And that this human disaster bangs his head on a tree one night while Cosette cries and then decides to join a bloody revolution? What about the time his grandpa thought he was having an affair when really he was just visiting his dad's grave like a NERD. Or the time he had to yell out of his window his love for Napoleon Bonaparte? This beautiful moth even asked his best friend if he could sleep with him? And to top it all off, this sweetly oblivious butterfly had to get dragged through the sewers of Paris by his future father-in-law, can you imagine family dinners? This booby is a national hero and must be protected at all costs.

rashaka  asked:

Congrats on your followers! Here's a Bellarke prompt for 5 sentences: the morning after platonic bed sharing

five sentences only?? for a five sentence fic celebration ? what kind of operation do you think im running here??


Bellamy has the prettiest eyelashes Clarke has ever seen. She decides this while she’s lying on her side watching him sleep next to her. In her bed. Which is a first. But she can’t find it in herself to mind.

Things between them usually don’t get this… intimate. They’ve slept in the same room too many times to count. Dozed in public leaned up against each other enough that no one blinks an eye. But in private quarters, in the same bed, facing each other with their legs tangled up, his hand resting on her waist and hers curled against his collarbone? Maybe it crosses a line.

They’d spent most of the night talking logistics about the plan to turn the Ark into their home for the next five years after Praimfaya, and had fallen asleep. Clarke had woken up in a panic when she felt him next to her, thinking for a brief moment that she might have slept with him. Relief when she remembered what had really happened. And, if she’s not lying to herself, a fair amount of disappointment.

But it’s best not to over-complicate what they have. So Clarke settles her desire to touch him with a finger tracing his jaw.

Those soot-black eyelashes she’d been admiring flutter right then, alerting her to the fact that he’s awake. But he doesn’t open his eyes just yet, and she takes that as permission to keep going, trailing her finger over his cheekbone, down to his chin. In the meantime, his hand on her waist begins to run in a soothing up and down motion on her side.

Eventually she pulls her hand away, and his eyes immediately open. Clarke props her head up on one hand and grins down at him. He looks so bleary-eyed and rumpled and it’s adorable. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

He blinks, glances around to orient himself, and then, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep in your bed. Sorry.”

His words, rougher than usual with sleep, send a chill through her. Bellamy talking casually about her bed while he’s lying in it with her makes her feel warm for no reason at all.

“I don’t mind,” she tells him softly, but Bellamy shifts anyway, the mattress creaking. She can tell he’s about to get up. To stop him, she casually hooks her leg around his again under the blanket. He pauses. She goes on, “I wouldn’t have let you sleep here if I didn’t want you to sleep here.”

Clarke snuggles back into him, but he doesn’t quite relax.

“I won’t make a habit of it,” he tells her.

Clarke rolls her eyes although he can’t see because he’s still looking up at the ceiling. “Bellamy, you know I like you, right?” When he’s silent, she adds, hesitantly, “I just had a better night of sleep than I’ve had in a… while. And I think it was because you were here.”

Her admission hangs in the quiet morning air between them for a long moment. She yearns to look up and see his expression, but she decides to just wait for his answer.

When he does, it’s wry. “Are you saying that me talking puts you to sleep?” 

She grins and lifts her head to meet his gaze. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Sure, Clarke. How long until you replace me with a bottle of NyQuil?” His voice is grave, but his eyes dance with mischief.

She huffs a laugh then; the two of them had found an old magazine stuffed in a bookshelf the other day, and had paged through it together, finding endless amusement in the advertisements. “I promise, you’re the only sleep-aid I’ll ever need.”

His hand tightens on her hip, in a playful possessive gesture. “Good.” And before either of them can say anything else, there’s a rap at the door— someone calls Clarke’s name— and they nod at each other. Bellamy pats her hip once more, brisk but affectionate, and they both get out of the bed. He leaves to go shower, she goes to attend to the matter that’s brought her out of bed, and she doesn’t see him until breakfast.

He lifts his eyes to meet hers when she joins him in the breakfast line, and he nods, friendly, as he always does. There are other people around, and neither of them acknowledge what happened; in fact, they immediately pick up the same discussion about food supplies they’d been having last night. Clarke almost wonders if the morning had happened or not, at least until they find a table to sit at and Bellamy sets a cup of coffee on her tray.

“Don’t fall asleep while we’re talking, now,” he says, quite seriously. Clarke laughs in delight.

“Never.”

The conversation doesn’t stray from business after that. Their situation is still dire, after all. But nevertheless, every time she looks at him, some part of her can’t help but look forward to the next five years.

5(+) sentence fic celebration

Close Quarters

Bucky x reader

Summary: Your day goes from bad to worse when your car breaks down after a messy mission and you end up stuck with the one team member you always fight with.

Warnings: swearing, arguing, self-doubt. a side character tries to get rough with you (they do not succeed, but it might still be tough to read).

Word Count: 3048. Wow.

A/N: This one has been sitting in waiting for a while. I’ve been really hesitant to post it because it’s different from everything else I’ve posted so far. I hope it’s okay.

Originally posted by ohh-bloodyhell

“I am blaming this disaster of a day fully on you,” the man in your passenger seat grumbled.

Great.

Not only was the mission way more complicated than it should’ve been, you were currently sitting helpless as your car slowed to a stop in the middle of nowhere. You thought you’d repaired the gas gauge but apparently it was only a temporary fix. So you just sat in the driver seat with a hurt expression as your car completely betrayed you by not telling you it was low on gasoline, leaving you stuck on some mostly deserted back road with the one team member you didn’t get along with.

“That’s not fair,” you said, glancing over as Bucky crossed his arms and slouched down in the seat.

“Life’s not fair, buttercup.”

You hated that he did that–called you names that would’ve been cute under different circumstances. Frustration bubbled up as you looked to your passenger seat. “Well maybe if you hadn’t been constantly griping over there, I might’ve noticed it had been a while since we last stopped.”

Keep reading

How you sleep together

Newt Scamander

He loves it when you rest your head on his chest, combing his fingers through your hair, while you both drift off

Originally posted by justdrethings

Jacob Kowalski

He Likes to spoon, making Sure you’re safe, stroking his fingers over your arm

Originally posted by lovershub


Tina Goldstein

She’s a wriggle sleeper, but she does like to hold your hand, and will keep your fingers intertwined.

Originally posted by sensualkisses

Queenie Goldstein

She likes to snuggle into your side

Originally posted by pleasingpics

Credence barebone

He likes to sleep with his head on your chest, so that he can hear your heartbeat.

Originally posted by couplenotes

Perceval Graves

He like his own space, but he also likes you close, so that he can pull you in

Originally posted by perfectfeelings

Have a great day and be safe

Master list

@fiddlesticksimagines

Coran HC

★  I don’t care what anyone says, he was the previous Blue paladin

  • Have you seen his reflexes??? Look at those and tell me he wasn’t a paladin

★ HE WAS IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH ALFOR AND THE QUEEN FIGHT ME

  • This makes him the perfect person for Allura to come to for Matt and Shiro

★ Every time he sees Keith he gets reminded of his edgy phase

★ He’s able to make any species love him
  • It’s a gift

★ On a dare he ran through those boiling rocks that fell from the sky on Altea and somehow made it through without a scratch???

★ The first batch of nunvil he made was actually made from sweaty clothes to “test” the paladins

  • Nobody knows, It’s a secret he’ll take to his grave

★ Is one of the biggest pranksters ever

He and Keith get stranded of some random planet: Hmm… Delectable tea or deadly poison?

★ Nobody has ever seen him go to sleep

  • Does he need sleep? Nobody knows

★ Covered in badass scars because y e s

★ Can and will beat you up while giving you a lecture on safety

★ The reason the red lion didn’t let him in is cause he pulled a prank on her once and she holds a grudge

★ Was the mom friend of the old paladins

★ His hair was as long as Allura’s at one point but during a mission it got cut off

  • All the paladins cried for his loss, even Zarkon shed a few tears

★ Lance is his favorite without a doubt but he loves all the other paladins as well

  • They all bond over different things it’s great

★ They went on a planet with tiny creatures and they follows him around the entire time they were there

★ Has like no idea of how self-preservation works

  • That alien has razor sharp teeth and is like 10xs his size? Must be friendly

★ Sometimes he just makes up some random creatures to mess with the Paladins

★ He somewhat drugged Allura and Shiro once so they could go tf to sleep

★ He somehow got his mustache stuck in some doors once

  • No one lets him live it down

★ Has at least 20 different types of poison up his sleeve “just in case”

★ He still chills with Blue in his very little free time

Percival just being a cute little shit

Percival playing with newts hair to relax him.

Percival massaging newts shoulders/back when he’s stressed.

Percival holding newts cheeks when they kiss.

Percival burying his head into newts neck when they cuddle.

Percival constantly having to stroke some part of newts skin (arm, cheek, neck e.t.c).

Percival not being able to take his eyes off of newt when they’re in the same room because he just thinks he’s so damn beautiful.

Percival counting the freckles on newts back on a lazy Sunday morning.

Percival cooking newts favourite meal to make sure he eats.

Percival bringing newt flowers because he saw them on his walk home and they made him think of him.

Percival loving when newt gets lost in his own little world while he talks about his creatures.

Percival planning the rest of their lives together because he knows he wants no one but newt.

Negan Imagine ~ Stormy Times

After the reader loses her last family member she refuses to leave the grave and Negan decides to stay by her side

Requested as a prompt:
“Did you even sleep last night?” “I’ll sleep when I’m dead”


Originally posted by rickdixonandthefandomlifeposts

You saw the clouds above you becoming darker, the rumbling of the upcoming storm becoming louder while you stared at your brothers grave. 

One day was it now.
One day since you lost your last family member.
One day since you had seen him die on a run. 

And one day since you had barely moved from the place where they had buried him. 
You tried to suppress the pictures that tried to find their way into your mind.

All the pictures of how the walker ripped your brothers neck open, of the blood that shot out of the wound while your beloved brother sunk screaming to his knees, of the last time you looked into his eyes before he died and of the moment you had to dig your knife into his skull.

All you felt was emptiness in your body and a horrible pressure on your ribcage that didnt want to allow you to breath freely.


You suddenly heard heavy footsteps behind you coming closer that ripped you away from the pictures, but you didn’t turn around. 

You knew it was him.

He was checking often on you since you sat there, but you had never heard him coming as close as now.
There was definitely something between you and him for some time now, even when you didn’t really know what it was.

He knew what you thought about his methods, about his “wives” and still he seemed to somehow care about you more than about anybody else.

“You should come in Sweetheart, it’s gonna rain damn soon”, you heard his deep voice say.

You swallowed but didn’t respond, you just kept staring at the grave. 

You heard Negan scoff stressed before you heard the footsteps coming even closer.

“You can’t sit here for fucking ever”, you heard his voice adding.

“You’re underestimating me”, you muttered while you didn’t look back to him.

You felt definitely something for him, even if you had tried to suppress it long enough and you knew that if you would look at him now, would see into his eyes, that it would break out of you. 

You couldnt cry yet, the shock of having to see how the walker ripped your brothers neck open stuck in your bones and didnt let you cry.

And you didnt know if you even wanted to.

The shock protected you from the horrible pain that would fill your body up once the first tear would roll down your cheeks.

You werent ready for that and you knew that Negan’s glance, his touch or anything else would let that facade fall apart.

On one side you wanted him to go due to that fear, on the other one you felt the feeling inside you that you just wanted to be hugged.

You saw from the corner of your eyes how he walked next to you but didn’t sit down yet. 

“Did you even sleep last night?”, you heard him ask swallowing. 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead as well”, you just muttered in response. 

“Don’t fucking ever say that again”, you heard him say before he sat down next to you.

It was the first time you looked into another direction than the grave as you turned a little surprised to him but didnt look directly into his eyes. 

“Listen you’re not gonna fucking die. Not gonna let that happen”, he said while you swallowed before looking back to the grave. 

You felt how his glance was laying on your face as he sighed.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Just wanted you to know”, he said stroking over his beard and looking at you while you nodded slowly.

The sky grumbled while you felt how the first raindrops fell onto you
.
You saw from the corner of your eyes how Negan looked up to the sky but then back to you. 

“God fucking damn it…”, you heard him mumble while the rain began to intensify. 

You didn’t care about the rain becoming stronger and the rumble of the closer coming thunder more menacing, all you cared about was your dead brother and the wish he would come back while you knew the painful truth.

You felt how Negan put a hand onto your back and with that, he broke the small glas spheric the shock had build around you.

You felt your chest trembling, a mix of cold and heat streaming through your body before you felt how the very first tear rolled down your cheek. 

”Fuck, Sweetheart”, you heard Negan sigh before you felt how he pulled you close to him and slung his arms around you.

With the moment you felt his warmth it broke completely out of you, you gasped for air while the tears began rolling down your face and the pain you had feared that much conquered your body and took it completely over.

You dug your face into his shirt while you sunk into his arms and felt how he laid his head on yours.

His hand run up and down your back, stroking soothing over it while he pulled deeper into his embrace as you sobbed trembling into his shirt.

“Its okay…”, you heard him mumble into your hair before he placed a kiss onto your head.
While the rain got heavier you began to tremble more while your head pounded even stronger.
It mixed with the horrific pictures that finally made their way into your head.
The blood that had streamed over his body and your hands while you had tried to stop it and which you still couldn’t entirely remove from your skin.
The bashed head of the walker you had killed directly after your brother had sunken to his knees.
The last twitching of your brothers body in your arms before he was gone entirely.

“He’s never coming back…”, you whimpered into his chest while you still trembled and as you felt how the rain that became slowly heavier turned your clothes wet.

You heard Negan whispering soothing words into your hair, stroking with his thumb over your cheek while your pounding head didn’t really let you hear his words.

You and your brother had sworn to do everything to protect each other and you had done everything to full fill that until that one day you werent able too.
And you still felt guilty for it.
All you wanted was to turn back time and save him.
“I’m alone…”, you sobbed while your voice cracked.

“You’re not fucking alone, you got me”, you heard him say while his words brought a little warmth back into your cold body.

You stayed for a while like that, deep sunken into his arms while the rain pelted down on you.
After some time you felt how he lifted you slowly up, pressed your rain and tears soaked body closer to himself and began to walk.
Even if you had earlier refused to leave his grave due to the feeling that it seemed like the only way to you to be at least a bit close to him, you let Negan carry you away from it.
While he walked through the rain you laid your head onto his shoulder, nuzzling it into the curve of his neck. 


After some moments you felt how with one second the rain stopped pouring on your body.

You were inside.

Your still quiet whimper sounded through the hallways, as well as Negans heavy footsteps while he made his way through the sanctuary.
“Boss, we-”, you suddenly heard a mans voice begin but was interupted by Negan.
“Not fucking now, Simon”, Negan growled while he kept walking.

After some time you suddenly heard how a door opened.
You slowly raised your head a little bit and found yourself in Negans room.
But you didnt stay there, Negan carried you further into his bathroom.

He let you softly down on the ground of the shower before he backed away to look at you while you looked a bit asking at him. 

“You’ll catch a damn cold otherwise”, you heard him mumble as response to your glance.

“Can I…?”, he asked as he pointed to your soaked clothes before you nodded slowly. 

You didn’t care if he saw you naked right now.

To be honest, you cared about as good as nothing right now.

Negan began to slowly and carefully slip the wet clothes from your body while you kept looking at him. 

The rain had let a few hair strands detach from their normal gelled back shape so that they now hung wet and loose into his face.

His eyes were concentrated on you but not in some lewd way like you had always expected him to look at a naked body, it was more concerned, more focused on what seemed to be more important to him than anything sexual right now. 

Your well being. 

You saw how he removed the last piece of clothing from your body, stroke some hairstrands out of your face before he grabbed the shower head and began to carefully pour warm water over your body.

“Is it alright that way?”, you heard Negan say after some moments. 

You nodded slowly before some small smile flashed over his face.

For the next moments he stayed silent, just focusing on your body until he raised his voice again.
”Just that you know,.. I meant what I said outside, you got me. Always”, he said while not just the warm water turned your body warm again.
”Thank you”, you breathed while you looked at him and he slightly smiling got to your hands.
He washed the last bit of blood from your hands while they almost vanished in his big ones and then carefully continued with the rest of your body.

“Never imagined seeing you the first time naked like that”, he said with a small smirk on his lips while he quietly laughed to himself and brought a small grin up to your lips.

You saw how he smirked to successfully cheering you up a little bit for a moment while he kept going.

Negan turned the water off and grabbed a towel to carefully dry your body and your hair while his glance went in-between to your face, checking if you were mostly alright.


After you were ready, he stood up and left you for a few seconds before he came back with his big bathrobe and pulled you carefully up before he put the white bathrobe onto your body.

Noticing that you were still not stable on your feet he suddenly lifted you up again and carried you over to his big bed.
Negan laid you carefully onto the bed and pulled the dark blanket over your body while his glance checked on you before he went over to the wardrobe.
You looked out of the window where the storm raged outside before you looked over to Negan again.

He pulled his wet clothes from his body while you felt how a small blush creeped up your cheeks as you heard him chuckle.

Negan smirked slightly at you while he chuckled to himself before he pulled a shirt over his torso and walked back to you.

He slipped to you under the blankets, shifted next to you and pulled you back into his arms.

The storm shook on the windows of his room, the rain drummed against them while Negans fingers run softly up and down your arm while his lips rested on your temple.
You had already seen him softer in your presence, but never as soft and as caring as now and you enjoyed it to the fullest.
His warmth, his scent, everything of him let the pain wash slowly out of your body.
The grief was still there and you knew it would rest there for a whole while but Negan made it way more bearable.
“Everything’s gonna fucking work out, Sweetheart. I promise”, you heard Negan mumble against your skin.
You cuddled closer to him while you felt how his lips formed a smile against your temple and while you knew that you would do everything to keep on fighting you could finally and peacefully doze off in Negan’s arms. 


@myrabbitholetoneverland  @dasani-saraai

Headcanon time!

Prompto Argentum:

  • Loves strawberry anything (pie, milkshakes, fresh strawberries especially, so gud)
  • CHOCOLATE, but not white because that shit is NAAAASTAY. SO GROSS!!!
  • In highschool, there was hardly a day that he didn’t spend in detention. Okay, so he talks a lot and things make him giggle and he gets antsy that he can’t stay at his desk and hey, what was that out the window? That would make for a cool picture! Hold on, teach, lemme get this shot! When he began crownsguard training, Prompto got out of it 100% of the time. THANKS, BFF!!
  • The boi can totes sing but he’s so bashful about singing in front of anyone, so when the chocobro’s go karaoking, Prompto will sing badly on purpose.
  • For the love of all that is good and holy, don’t give him caffeine!!
  • He has a very eclectic taste in music. It can range from pop to nu metal to r&b and even hip hop. It’s all over the place, just like he is.
  • He’s shy as hell, but once you get to know him, beware, he’ll stick to you like velcro and it’s damn near impossible to get him off and good gods, he never ever shuts up.
  • Prompto and Noctis have a running joke that started when Ignis and Prompto first met. Whenever Prom spoke to Ignis, it always took him a while to answer. Ignis was “buffering.” This was born because Noctis insists he’s a cyborg.
  • Prompto practically lives with Noct since they started highschool. He can’t stay at his parents’ house because it’s so empty with them working so much and his depression eats away at him. He always makes up stories, but they all know the truth.
  • The first time Prompto met the King, he threw up on him (he insisted it was because he forgot his stomach medicine but it was really because his nerves were so bad. It was THE KING after all.)
  • A little kindness goes a long, long way and the boy sucks it up like a sponge.
  • After losing all the weight, he cannot for the life of him, get rid of the excess skin of his belly. He hates it so much and it makes him feel so disgusting and ugly. He thinks it’s bigger than it really is and he refuses to shower with anyone else or go shirtless.
  • He’s terrified of getting intimate with anyone because of his body.
  • In gym class he never swam during swim week because the teacher refused to allow him to wear a t-shirt. It worked out because Noctis never swam either . It wasn’t until much later that he found out why.
  • He never bothered to tell anyone he can’t swim. At all.
  • Prompto also deeply hates his stretch marks and is incredibly self-conscious.
  • He often eats much less than he should, in fear of gaining weight again.
  • Despite how he was only a year old when he was taken from the facility in Gralea, Prompto is left with night terrors that make sleeping rather difficult. He wakes at the slightest touch and can often come up swinging. Careful when waking him or you might find yourself with a bloody nose.
  • Confining spaces paralyze him but only if he’s alone. If he’s got his chocobro’s with him, he has the courage to go on. Alone, he ceases to function. Especially in the dark.
  • His favorite swear is ‘fuck’; fuck that daemon piñata.
  • He’s a snuggle-bug. Especially with Gladio. He always find safety within those big, muscular, tattooed arms. He often comforts Prompto after one of his night terrors, if he’s around. If he’s not, Noctis is fair game though he’s liable to just text the shield to comfort himself.
  • He’s not very good at reading, the words seem to jumble together, as if someone shook whatever he’s reading and they tumbled together. He tries real hard though. It takes all his concentration.
  • During world of ruin, Prom grows his hair out and wears it in a little bun.
  • Animals he gets, people make no sense to him. He wants to run a chocobo farm one day. He’ll have a black one and name it Noctis.
  • He also likes to make puns from Noctis’s names. He also in love with Noctis but that is a secret he will take to the grave.
  • Prompto is stubborn and determined and perhaps a bit reckless on that front. He will fight tooth and nail if you back him into a corner.
  • It is also stupidly easy to gain his trust. You break it though, the boy don’t forget.
  • Photography sort of fell into his lap and was a way for him to not feel so lonely. He was able to capture moments where he felt something. It soon became his obsession where looking through a lense was easier to hide and pretend he wasn’t being ignored.
  • Negative words stick with him hard and can stop him in his tracks regardless of his bravado, particularly in his younger years. Especially when his origin is brought up.
  • He sat in Ignis’s cozy chair once. The advisor yanked him out and pulled him across the apartment and gave him rug burn on his back. He’s totes jelly Noct gets to sit in the cozy chair.


Ignis Scientia:

  • Use the bloody coasters, you heathens!
  • No you may not sit in his cozy chair, it’s his and his alone. So what if Noctis sits in it? He IS the prince!
  • No he does NOT baby Noct and, no, Noctis does not make a specific face that makes him give in every bloody time (he totally does).
  • Ignis is always awake before anyone else is and goes to sleep after everyone else and always put together at all times. Anything else is simply unacceptable. He simply cannot be indecent, that includes being seen in his pajamas.
  • Only Noct has ever seen him in such a state. It is a mystery to everyone else. Even Prompto who practically lives at Noctis’s.
  • Swims on an almost daily basis.
  • Has gotten into the habit of grating vegetables finely into foods to get Noctis to eat them. He hasn’t caught on yet. Yet.
  • Folds dirty laundry before putting it in the hamper.
  • Cleans any hotel they stay at. If it’s not up to his standards, he gives the staff an earful.
  • Prompto drives him NUTS. The boy drives him nuts with his talking and the bad influence he’s been on Noct.
  • He also hates how Prompto chews. Especially gum. Good gods he could choke the boy.
  • He has a secret love of rap. He will take it to his grave.
  • It doesn’t last. Noct learns of this love one day when he came home early from training. Hears him rapping while cleaning. Goddammit, Noct.
  • Now he has to say 'Erryday’ to amuse the shithead. It’s a good thing he loves him so dearly. And, gods, that beautiful laugh. It’s worth the embarrassment.
  • Ignis has played all the Assassin’s Creed games, despite how he insists otherwise. He tries to stay up to date with all the things Noctis likes.
  • He hates carrots.
  • Coffee runs in his veins.
  • He gets very little sleep and if he doesn’t get coffee before he starts his day, he’s an ogre.
  • Ignis knows ballet.
  • He’s a rather aggressive lover, a little kinky too. It’s always the quiet ones.
  • Depends on Noctis just as much as Noctis depends on him.
  • Is exceptionally clever but never realized when Noctis flirts with him.
  • Makes Prompto chocolate truffles every year for his birthday. It touches him when the boy cries and also kind of freaks him out. Please don’t hug him because there’s snot and it’s gross.
  • Got drunk once on his eighteenth birthday. Goddammit, Gladio. Ignis will never listen to him again. They don’t talk about that.
  • He’s lied for Noctis more times than he can count to get him out of trouble.
  • He’s also snuck him out of the Citadel and out of Insomnia.
  • This is information he will forever keep from Prompto because he will surely use this as blackmail.
  • He stress cooks. Expect fucktons of food.
  • No one but Noctis is allowed in the kitchen when Ignis is cooking. Prompto had had more than one wooden spoon broken over his head for coming into the kitchen when he was clearly told to stay the hell out.
  • Ignis is proper as hell, stern and always put together. When he’s home, however, and just around Noctis, he’s relaxed and laughs quite a bit.
  • He has the driest sense of sense of humor. He roasts Prompto all the time.
  • He enjoys being photographed.
  • Has pet names for Noctis that he only calls him in private.
  • Snores, won’t accept the truth. Also smells of lavender and frankincense.


Nyx Ulric:

  • Sin incarnate, saved by holy tongue (thanks, Lu!)
  • Much sassitude
  • A part of a clan in Galahd that took in Crowe, Pelna, and Libertus’s, Crowe having been orphaned.
  • When another clan takes in another, they’re called clan-kin. They’re as good as siblings now.
  • All Galahdian’s have tattoos on the face that give others the ability to, at a glance, read what type of person they are and how to approach them. It helps keep the peace. For example, beneath Nyx’s right eye is a Raven’s foot. He’s intelligent, quarrelsome, playful, and quite the show off.
  • He has a old grouchy cat named Mr. Fleabag.
  • He enjoys making fun of Captain Drautos behind his back.
  • He doesn’t have a type, shut up, Libertus.
  • His favorite thing to do on his days off is either watch Mad Mal, that AWESOME Marlboro cartoon, or crash at Libertus’s place because he knows he’s going to cook and he needs food. He likes his food. It’s good. Please feed him.
  • Likes to call Noctis Prince Charmless.
  • Also sees the kid like a little brother. Also thinks Noctis is a pain in the goddamn ass.
  • He plays an old, shabby guitar that he bought at a local pawn shop. It’s in poor shape but it plays and he likes to sing to the little old woman next door in their mother tongue.
  • His middle name is Gabriel. Goddammit, he HATES it.
  • Luna calls him 'Gus’ because of it. Where the hell does it come from?
  • He enjoys dancing, especially after a few drinks because then he can get his siblings to let loose. Mainly Libertus because he’s bashful. It’s great when he’s not.
  • Each tattoo on his body has a meaning. Some Galahdian’s have their whole bodies covered, telling their life’s story.
  • Nyx stopped getting tattoos when he stopped believing in the Astrals after the death of Selena. He knows they’re real, he just has no more faith. Fuck the gods and their cruel ways.
  • He’s never dated.
  • Nor has he ever slept with the same person twice until Luna came along.
  • Fuck you, Libertus, he does NOT have a type.
  • He calls Ravus 'Ravioli’
  • He actually is terrified of warping.
  • Some nights, Nyx actually sings himself to sleep.
  • Thinks Luche is a fucking tool but he’s his lieutenant so he has to behave. Wants to strangle the fuck for being a total racist though.
  • Is terrible with braiding his own hair so he has to have Crowe do it and she’s so damn ROUGH. Luna takes over, thankfully.
  • Nyx has Luna knit sweaters for Fleabag who gets cold in the winter. She has to put them on him though. They learned from one terrible attempt that Fleabag will DESTROY Nyx if he even tries.

Well… that ends this episode of how long can Moxi make this post. JFC. Sure there will be more headcanons in the future for these fucks.

Visions

NOW PROPERLY EDITED || Angsty Levi drabble to try and get back into my writing groove. I left the other character extremely vague so feel free to imagine the other half of your Levi otp if you wish. Otherwise, enjoy and hit me with some feedback if you do not mind~! Special thanks to @perksofbeingawaifu for inspiring me to write more drabbles! Definitely check out her works!!


Levi’s eyes always seemed to wander over his surroundings with a meticulous edge. Lids heavy over piercing irises as he scanned every inch of each environment he stepped into. Nothing ever seemed to slip past his vision. Even the dust particles that would float and dance in the light of the mid-morning sun were completely visible to him in shadow.

This was a skill he had honed in his earlier years. Always needing to be aware of what was behind him or who was around each corner in the darkness of the underground. Always wanting to avoid unnecessary attention and unwelcomed company as he would weave his way through damp back alleys and overcrowded walkways. Without a doubt, his hands were fine tools. Eleminating danger in a matter of seconds with a sharp slash of his shining blade before cleaning the mess left behind on his slender fingers.

However, he didn’t trust his hands. Lethal things coated in death and destruction. Only able to save a few while harming many. His hands moved as ordered and they served him well, but sometimes they would fail him and leave him grasping at cold air instead of something solid and warm. The lives of those dear to him have slipped through his fingers too many times for him to have faith in their truth. His eyes showed him possibilities and outcomes. They showed him what was and what could be, but a majority of the time, his hands would fail to deliver the proper results.

But his eyes…

His eyes were his veil. His way of masking himself into the low of society he had spent his entire life surrounded by. His way of blending into shadows and vast seas of people to hide his existence from those who would seek to end it. His eyes were his shield and his first line of defense. They never lied and they never failed him. He trusted his eyes. He believed in the images they painted for him, even if they were hard to process or even accept.

So, even now, as he stood in front of the mirror with his ghastly physical appearance being projected before him; he fully trusted what he saw. The bags under his eyes had become severe. A faint hue of red bleeding into the whites while the blue in his irises appeared dull and grey. Lifeless and sleep deprived from years of painting blood soaked images of his corpse ridden reality, only for his mind to process and use as haunts for his short lived dreams.

He looked like shit and there was no hiding it either.

He was much older now and it showed. The life he was leading showed, and the weight of the lives he carried to the grave showed. All of it was apparent in his eyes. A man who was exhausted, but strong. Lonely, but stable. Empty, but still alive. It was all there and staring back at him as he towel dried the scruff of his hair.

He needed to sleep, he determined. Setting the towel aside as he ran his fingers over the course hair coating his jaw.

His eyes were indeed windows, he surmised as he heaved a sigh at the reflective glass. Windows he desperately needed to shut if only for a couple of hours, but when he did, the images they had painted over the years would slide through his dreams like a moving picture. Replaying his darkest moments over and over again until his mind would scream at him to wake up. For him to open the windows and to let them paint more pictures for him to continuously relive.

Slowly, he rubbed his lids with the pads of his fingers. Pushing himself away from the mirror and out of the door frame of the washroom and into the soft candle glow of his quiet office. Looking at himself was hard. Seeing himself with the eyes he so trusted and having to accept that that was indeed how he currently appeared made him want to crawl out of his own skin.

He always made it a point to be presentable, but today he was just too tired to do so. Three days with no sleep and little to no food quickly took it’s toll, and his body was now at an age where he couldn’t outright hide his shitty sleeping habits, or lack thereof, with a clean shave, and a few cups of strong tea.

His hands moved back to his jaw. Scratching at the rough hairs he wasn’t used to wearing as he strode over towards his clean, hung up shirt, and laid out uniform boots. The nights were getting colder and longer and his health wasn’t in top form at this point. The last thing he needed was to get sick on top of his already piss poor condition.

“You look pretty rough.” A soft voice chimed. An echo Levi had long thought lost and a sound that made his heart clench in his chest.

“I know.” He answered firmly. Rounding his trustworthy eyes towards his office chair that was positioned behind him where a shadowed silhouette sat comfortably.

“You should sleep.” The voice resounded. The leather of his chair squeaking as the figure adjusted their body to face him more clearly.

“I know.” He responded again. His feet slowly stepping across the wood of the floor while his hands remained stock still at his hips.

The figure was a familiar one. One he hadn’t seen for quite some time and one he’d admittedly missed and cared for quite deeply. Still though, that didn’t negate the fact that they were sitting their precious ass in his office chair.

“Get your ass out of my chair.”

The figure laughed heartily. Standing up completely straight in one smooth, eerily quiet motion before moving around the desk and stepping into the dim light of a single flame that danced atop a mostly melted candle.

“Sorry.”

“Why are you here?” Levi asked sharply. His tired eyes staying locked on the person in front of him while his body moved around them and toward his oak desk. Each of his steps precise and angled so not to cause a floorboard to squeak.

“I just… wanted to see you. That’s all.”

Levi let out a huff. Blinking his eyes a couple of times as he picked up a file from his desk with his clever fingers. Tapping the tip of his index against the paper sharply as he evened out his breathing and began moving toward the elegantly lit body in front of him.

“I wanted to see you too, but you shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.”

“Then go.”

“Can’t we just tal-”

“No.”

Levi’s body had stopped only a few inches from the figment in front of him. His free hand reaching out to grasp at a lock of hair. To run his fingers through it and touch the silky strands that his eyes showed him were there. But his hands were only met with cold air. A breeze in the night against his still damp skin. With an exasperated hum, Levi retracted his fingers. Silently turning and moving his body toward his office chair and sitting down with a hard thump.

“Disappointed?” The figure questioned cheekily. Stepping to sit in the front facing chair directly across from Levi’s own. Their movements making no sounds and their voice barely audible enough for his overly tired ears to hear.

“Of course.” He murmured. Staring at the smiling face in front of him with honest regret and exhaustion.

His chest hurt terribly while his eyes burned with leashed tears and rapidly approaching sleep. He was losing his mind. He was sure of it, but his eyes had never failed him before. Not even in his deepest pits of exhaustion and not even when he silently begged a god he doesn’t believe in to let him see this face smiling at him one last time as he stared down at their pale, blood drained body.

The sadness and greif he felt as he peered into the glowing eyes of the other across from him matched the fear of them disappearing in his gut. His face remained as passive as ever, but emotion boiled over internally to the point of rising acidic bile in his throat as he leaned forward and rested his head against the cold slab of the desk.

“Sleep. I’ll stay.”

“You’re not even real.” He stated sharply. Reaching one hand out while placing the other under his head as a cushion.

“Of course I am. You can see me, can’t you?”

Levi remained quiet for a moment. Watching with hopeful, tired eyes as the figures hand reached over and met his own. Gracing his sense of touch with nothing but cold air yet again. A frown pulling at his lips and his brows furrowing while his ears rang acutely. His vision slowly but surely going dark, and the view of he and his lovers interlocking fingers slowly fading to black.

“Yeah.” He whispered. Sleep washing over him in a deep wave and pulling him under.

He trusted his eyes. He believed in the images they painted for him, even if they were hard to process or even accept. However, he didn’t trust his hands. Sometimes they would fail him, and leave him grasping at cold air instead of something solid and warm. Sometimes, they would let precious things slip from his grip and shatter into tiny pieces that would scatter to the wind.

But, most of the time, they would leave him yearning for a touch of warmth that he could no longer feel.

RFA: Untreatably Sick MC

The original request was MC having a brain tumor, but I am not a neurologist, and it would be difficult to write seven scenarios about something so specific. I hope you enjoy nevertheless!  

Yoosung

   Diagnosis

- The news hit him like a truck

- He just held onto your hand tightly, face frozen in shock, words just flowing through his ears without being registered

- He hoped it was a joke. It was just a prank by Seven right? He was going to pull off that wig, and begin laughing

- But there was no annoyingly hysterical laughter

- Every day, he would spend all his free time spoiling you, taking your mind of your pain 

- He rarely played LOLOL, and the only time he did was to entertain you

-  He tried to keep a smile on his face as to not worry you, but whenever you turned away, he felt tears come to his eyes

   Death

- When you were carried away in an ambulance one day, he sat on the pavement near your apartment, just crying on the streets

- He begged Jumin to help with the expenses, and took a few days off University to stay by your side 

- But one day, he skipped into your room with an over exaggerated smile, only to be met with a group of doctors rushing around

- “I’m sorry…” And that’s all Yoosung heard, before the world froze around him

- Yoosung cried for hours by your cold body, eventually collapsing of exhaustion 

- He never opened LOLOL again, let his hair dye grow out, and he rarely texted

-  He only put on a fake smile when he met the members in real life, knowing that MC would have wanted him to be happy

Zen

    Diagnosis

- Zen held onto your hand tightly as the doctor spoke, looking at your face 

- He pressed his lips to the top of your hand, holding it there, hoping you could feel how much he loved you 

- You gave a weak smile, looking up at Zen with teary eyes

- He would always try to joke around with you, smiling the brightest when you smiled 

- Zen was very overprotective over you, keeping an arm around your shoulder even while on a date 

    Death

- He was devastated 

- He began to drink more, and ended up isolating himself

- After your funeral, he went to your grave and vowed to leave you roses every week, and visit you whenever he could

- Zen was never in the mood to argue with Jumin, or even act narcissistic 

- He just stood in his quiet apartment, sleeping for hours, dreaming that MC was still there

Jaehee

    Diagnosis

- When the doctor said your diagnosis, she reached out for your hand

- She carefully intertwined her fingers with yours as she felt her eyes begin to water

- Jaehee wiped her tears and promised to stay with you, trying to give you a soft smile

- Every day, he brought you sweet little baked goods to cheer you up, and brought movies to watch together

    Death

- She knew it would happen at some point, but she would be lying if she said she was prepared

- She took a few days off, and her calm composure cracked completely

- She cried at the smallest mention of MC, and seeing even Zen’s musicals reminded her of MC

- After a week, she seemed to have returned to her normal self

- But she was still broken inside, reading the old messages with MC, and trying to think of the happier past 

Jumin

    Diagnosis

- His already stiff expression seemed to turn to stone as the doctor told him your condition

- Jumin held you tightly, patting your hair as you cried into his shoulder

- “Are you sure there is no cure in the making? I can help fund the research program.” His voice was as steady as ever, as he tried to reason with the doctor

- He was breaking down inside as he heard the doctor’s answer, but he knew he had to be strong for you

- He tried to cheer you up by bringing you into his house and spoiling you with anything you wanted 

- Jumin wasn’t one to joke around, but whenever he saw you giggle, he vowed to keep the smile on your face

    Death

- Funding the vaccine research was no help 

- You had collapsed while Jumin was at work, and he had rushed home, only to find you being carried away on a stretcher

- Jumin followed along, and he felt himself tear up as he looked at the paramedics trying to restart your heartbeat 

- He held onto your hand, and sadly smiled at your weak grip 

- By the time the ambulance left, it was evident that you would not make it

- When you left, Jumin organized a funeral that was sure to keep you remembered, and drowned himself in work - 

Seven

    Diagnosis

- He looked at the doctor 

- No, that’s not an RFA member

- Was it an enemy hacker?

- But he knew it was true 

- Seven blew into your ear, trying to cheer you up, frowning when you didn’t giggle

- He would come over every day, bringing so many snacks that the other patients and doctors began to like him too

- But he always focused on you, joking in a 707 manner to cheer you up

    Death

- Tears began to slow as soon as he heard the news, and it took all his self control to not punch the computer right there and then

- How stupid could he be? Working when the love of his life was dangerously sick….

- Wiping his eyes, he ran outside to his sports cars and began to speed towards the hospital 

- When he saw your dead body, something inside him broke, and he became afraid of losing more people he cared about

- So he cried on the other side of the screen, pretending he was 707 again

- The 707 she fell in love with 

[V and Unknown]

Keep reading

Complicated

A Thunderblink Drabble set after Epi 7

She didn’t care for air that much, as long as John kept kissing her like nothing else mattered in the world.

What started off as a few furtive kisses outside evolved into the two of them sneaking into a room, it wasn’t easy to get some privacy when the house was so crowded but so far things were looking up.

Slowly she moved her hands up his long back and with the motion the shirt came up as well, when he pulled it over his head Clarice was left with a dilemma, her eyes couldn’t decide between his tattoo and the muscles on his arms until she reached his face and found those soft eyes of his.

John never had a moment of rest in the headquarters, there was always someone looking for him because he oversaw the perimeter of security and he organized the safe relocations of mutants like they were federal witnesses who gained new identities and lives, when he wasn’t in the HQ he was out there tracking mutants in danger and when he was in the house everyone wanted a word with him, even the kids were crazy about John and his super strength, he was a real-life hero for them and Clarice often caught him playing with them and laughing as they tried to tug away his steel body.

He was a leader, the chosen one.

“Are you ok?” he placed a bit of space between them.

She wasn’t happy that he stopped kissing her or that he sounded worried. “I was just thinking about something…” Clarice stroked his cheek, she wanted to keep touching him somehow.

With a tiny adjustment he rested his weight on his side. “Do you want to tell me about it?” He cleared a lock of purple hair away from her face. “I’d like to know.”

She turned on her side as well with a smile, she knew that he was being sincere. “How lucky we are to have you.”

He lowered his head and his eyes with an awkward smirk, he wasn’t being cocky about it but blushing instead. “Are you admitting that you’re happy that I found you?”

Her smile grew. “Not in so many words.” She pulled him closer for a kiss.

XxxxxX

Clarice woke up breathless, she had been dreaming of John. Again.

“Seriously…” she breathed out as her heart settled back into a normal pace.

This was getting out of hand; the dreams were escalating into sexy little tales with very little narrative and a lot of moaning.

“How do I even know every detail of his tattoo?” she thought about it for a second before she covered her face frustrated, she wasn’t the one who knew John inch by inch.

Clarice checked the watch, there was a staggering 3 on it and she sighed anticipating how hard it would be to fall asleep again, she started by focusing on this tiny stain on the ceiling, it was her way of forcing her brain to think of sleep and once she had been staring at it for long enough to believe that it would work she closed her eyes but the first thing that cruised by was an image of John’s eyes and she huffed annoyed at herself.

She tossed the blanket away, it was useless to push herself to sleep now so she left the bed quietly, it was late and most of the people in the HQ were already asleep which made her walk a bit melancholic and accurate as to how she lived her life, always looking from the outside without ever being actively part of anything.

Her slow walk ended on the kitchen where she realized that the universe was toying with her sanity because John was sitting at the table brooding over a photograph and a mug full of some dark substance.

“Hey…” he acknowledged her presence just as she sat down across the small round table.

She smiled at him before returning the low greeting. “Hey…”

“You’re still having a hard time sleeping?” he tried to hide the guilt in his voice, but he wasn’t sure he could entirely conceal it from his face.

“Yup.” She hid her hands inside of the sleeves of her old sweater while she looked away from his eyes, she didn’t want him to read anything on her face, specially that he was still the reason she couldn’t sleep.

“You should let Sonia help you with that.”

Clarice glared at him. “I’m not going to let your girlfriend mess with my mind ever again.”

The words she chose were supposed to hurt so John took the blow gracefully, well, as much as he could. “She’s not…” he clasped his lips with a grave frown on his face. “It's… umm…”

“Complicated?” Clarice asked coolly, almost in a singing voice.

This was clearly another one of those situations where he was screwed, no matter what he said next.

“Right.” She responded to his silence with a making of one on her side and for the longest minute neither of them talked.

Which didn’t help the tension between them at all, it was palpable even for Trader who came into the kitchen looking for a cup of coffee and left as quickly as he got it.

He wasn’t a man of many words and he knew better than to just make them up and interrupt whatever was going on between these two in the middle of the night.

On his wordless way out, Trader exchanged a small look with Clarice and there was a soft simple smile that came as appreciation for the day Clarice saved his life, it was a gesture that John saw and understood, he was in her debt as well.

“I don’t think that I have ever thanked you for saving my life that day at the road.”

Clarice bit her tongue, she wanted to rub it in his face that she didn’t have a choice but that was a half-lie.

“If you hadn’t opened that portal, I don’t think any of us would’ve made it.” He admitted.

She almost anticipated another move from his side to excuse Dreamer’s actions and she really couldn’t take it anymore. “It was my pleasure.” She pressed on with sarcasm.

He looked down on the table defeated, this was going to be between them forever. “I should’ve told you right away that what you were feeling wasn’t real.”

Clarice felt this roaring confusion inside of her, she wanted to tell him that he was being rude to assume that her feelings were implanted as well but she wasn’t completely certain of anything right now. “Things would’ve been a lot easier if Sonia had just given me a memory of a warm jelly donut.” She crooked her lips into a teasing smile when she noticed that John was breaking into one as well. “Then all she had to do was say that you were carrying a huge box filled with donuts in the car.”

He lifted his eyes enough to catch hers. “That easy, huh?”

She nodded with lifted eyebrows and a playful leer in her lips.

“It’s funny…” he narrowed his eyes thoughtful. “You remind me of Gus.”

“The dude from the warehouse?” she looked at the picture in his hand.

John looked at it as well, tormented by everything that he was feeling tonight.

“Are you ok?”

There was this bittersweet feeling as he heard the genuine concern in her voice, he was not worthy of it. “One of the things that we learn in the Marines is to never leave anyone behind, no matter the circumstances or the odds, we never leave a man behind. We fight and die together.”

“The others were talking about how Gus was taken and turned into some sort of experiment.”

“I saw Gus being shot and I thought that he was dead but if I hadn’t left him there…” he pressed his lips upset, eating away his regret.

She didn’t know how the fight went down but knowing John it had to be a real battle scenario with other lives at risk. “You’d probably end up being caught as well.”

John gritted his teeth. “I would give them a fight.”

He couldn’t see it, but Clarice cocked an eyebrow in a pointy warning. “I know that you can tear down walls and that you’re practically made of steel but you’re not indestructible John and you have a lot of people depending on you.”

John tapped the picture. “I already let him down and this place is filled with people looking at me for a solution that I don’t have. I can’t take in anyone else, but they keep coming and we’re running out of food and supplies, and I don’t know how to tell them that I don’t have any space left for them to sleep, that I already have a family sleeping on my bed and another on the floor.”

“Tell them that they can have my bed.” She easily told him. “I don’t sleep much anyway.”

He was struck, wondering how he never seemed to be in full control when it came to Clarice, there was always a curve ball that he didn’t know how to dodge. “You don’t have to do that Clarice.”

She had this huge heartfelt sigh. “I hate sentimental speeches so enjoy this one for the rarity that it is.” She looked at him straight in the eyes with a very serious stare. “You’re not letting anyone down, you’re doing the best that you can and trust me, that’s more than most of these people will ever know. They have a place to sleep and a blanket for cold nights, they have someone who really cares for them and they have something a lot more important than a bed, they can feel safe in here.”

“I’m sorry that we took that away from you.”

She felt herself blush, like a self-conscious blanket covering her. “This isn’t about me.”

“You’re one of us Clarice.”

Maybe it was the softness in his voice or the idiotic fact that she wasn’t ready to tackle any of this, but Clarice freaked out a bit. “You’re so intense sometimes.” She reached out for his mug. “You need to learn how to chill.” She hated the coffee, but she needed something to drink.

“That’s not…” he tried to stop her before she sipped on it, but the warning came out too late.

“… horrible.” She finished his phrase happy that it was actual alcohol.

“Coffee wasn’t going to cut it tonight, but I didn’t want any of the kids to see me drinking either, so I used the mug to hide it.” He dropped his voice in confession. “I’m going to hell.”

Clarice started laughing. “Straight to the ninth circle of hell.”

“Oh wow, treasury.” He simpered.

“Why bother with all the others?” She jested but she was pretty sure that she would be stuck in the Lust circle, evermore now that she was catching a glimpse of his arm tattoo peeking from under the rim of his sleeve.

“I guess it could be worse.” He started outlining the lines of her face, she looked so delicate and vulnerable at the same time, but he knew that she was like him, adamant in her strength and will.

“You’re right about that.” Her guard was down but it felt nice to just have a peaceful moment alone with him that wasn’t fabricated.

“I asked Sage to track down the files of the kids that were on the foster house, if we know their names it might be easier to find out what happened to them.”

She was moved but she was also realistic about the odds. “They probably disappeared into one of the many black holes of this country.” She swooshed the air with her hands. “Mutants mysteriously vanish every day.”

“We need to find a way to turn this war around.” He was tired of losing people and inevitably he went back to the picture on the table.

“We should start by finding out what really happened to your friend.”

“If they are turning mutants to hunt down other mutants I’m not sure I can still save Gus, I don’t know what they did to him or what he would do if he had a chance to hurt us.”

Clarice felt his turmoil even from this side of the table, he was conflicted between the duty to his friend and the need to keep everyone in here safe.

John had enough of the pity party and with a sad smile called it a night, he wanted to have a walk around the perimeter and then have another look at the files that Sage cracked from Baton Rouge, there was something there that he was missing, and he needed to work on that.

As he walked by Clarice she reached out to take his hand, it was dumb because now she was touching him and wrongly enjoying his warmth, but she had something to tell him.

John was surprised by the sudden move, but he wasn’t going to pull away any time soon, it was so rare to catch Clarice in a non-fighting mood that he was determined to enjoy the fleeting moment.

“I’m happy that you convinced me to come back.”

His sneer was subtle but still there. “Because you missed the undrinkable coffee and our vast choice of can food?”

“Because someone needs to ask you when was the last time you stopped and had a night of sleep.”

She was being unexpected again and he was thinking hard about his answer. “Says the one who just gave up her bed.”

“You look wrecked John but at least I have a reason not be sleeping.”

Clearly, she was being serious about this and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with someone’s worry when he was at the end of that feeling. “It's…”

“If you say one more time the word complicated, I’m going to smack you across the face.” She eagerly interrupted him. “I might break my hand, but I’ll do it.”

He chuckled, softly and unguarded. “I was going to say that it’s good to have you back.”

“Oh…” she stuttered out with a long gaze at him, one that he totally returned.

So, this was really happening, they were gazing at each other, her hand was still hiding in his and he was standing really closely to her, it was a formula for disaster, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it, so she shouldn’t be as well.

“Johnny…”

Clarice felt her insides turn as soon as Sonia’s voice invaded the kitchen.

“I bought some blankets and extra supplies with the money that Marcos got us, and I could use some help unpacking it from the car.” Sonia did her best to keep a straight face, but she did walk in on John and Clarice holding hands and looking intensely at each other.

“Sure.” He broke away from Clarice, although he lingered his hand in hers for as long as he could.

Clarice didn’t turn around to watch them leave, instead she rolled her eyes, she really hated the way Dreamer insisted on calling him Johnny.

A Moment Alone

a/n: The original, full title of this is, A Moment Alone, or the Three Times They were Interrupted and the One Time John Remembered to Lock the Door. but that seemed a bit long… so yeah this my first Blinders story, i hope you enjoy!

@frecklefaceb@beautifulramblingbrains@peaky-yamyam@vitaevandal@sharknadoslut@ariwolff14@captstefanbrandt[[if you wanna be tagged in future Peaky Blinders stuff i write, leave a reply saying so]]

warnings: a bit smutty but nothing terribly explicit

John Shelby x OFC // Peaky Blinders // one-shot

word count: 1,656

Originally posted by imaginesparadise

You were awoken by the feeling of John’s fingers snaking their way under your night dress and along your thigh. Blindly you reached over your shoulder to slide your own hand along his cheek until you cupped the back of his head. Pulling him closer, you hummed as he began to nip along your shoulder while his touch came to rest at the apex between your thighs.

“John,” you moaned before rolling onto your back, eyes still shut. Shifting out a knee, you aided his access as his lips moved to trail along your jaw. Continuing to massage your folds through the cotton of you underwear, his mouth finally came to yours. He pulled on your bottom lip and climbed between your legs.

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I Belong Way Down Below

Title: I Belong Way Down Below

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, sister!reader

Words: 2500 (oops) 

[Angsty, mentions of death, dark thoughts]

A/N: So, a tip is to read the one shots on my blog, because then the insert name thingymajiggy works. I don’t if it does otherwise.

Your name: submit What is this?

Dean groaned as he slowly opened his eyes. He blinked and took in his surroundings, briefly wondering why he was in Baby and not in a bed. But then he remembered. He was here to collect you.

The oldest Winchester always knew that anything could happen. Especially when you lived as a hunter. And he and Sam constantly were super protective of you, but they never expected anything really bad to happen to you. Because that was simply unthinkable, they couldn’t wrap their minds around it. But the unimaginable had ultimately happened, you had died and gone to hell.

However, after a year and three months, he and Sam had found a way to bring you back; and that’s where he were, the clearing where they had buried you. Speaking of his little brother, Dean looked over at Sam to ask if he had seen anything while he himself had been dozing.

He was greeted by the sight of Sam sleeping next to him. Now he could place the weird snoring sound that he had barely noticed the first few seconds he had been awake. Remorselessly, Dean swatted Sam’s upper arm, causing him to flinch awake — mid-snore.

”Dude!” Dean accusingly exclaimed, as Sam looked at him, confused.

”What?” Sam squinted his eyes, feeling wrongly criticized.

”Really? You were supposed to keep eyes on her grave!” Dean glared at him as he gestured towards the grave through the windshield glass.

”No, I wasn’t. You were on watch last,” Sam retorted, sitting up straighter in the car seat, furrowing his eyebrows.

”No, it was your turn.” Dean pushed, he was absolutely sure. Sammy failed, not he.

”No, it wasn’t!”

”You’re wrong, but whatever!” Dean rolled his eyes as he grabbed the flashlight that was resting in the center console of the Impala.

Then he opened his car door, and let the cold air fill the coupé as he stood up right outside, peering into the thick darkness. Gripping and enlightening the flashlight, he scanned the area, both with his light source and eyes. And then he saw it, he had to strain his eyes, but sure, there was a pile of dirt by the wooden cross embellished with your initials.

”Sammy,” Dean loud-whispered, if that now was a thing.

He felt something, a feeling, shift in his stomach and his pulse picking up. He was nervous, yet excited. He had been longing for you for so long, but he also feared the fact that something might go wrong. Because shit went wrong all the time. To sum it up, he was just a mess that didn’t know what to do with himself.

Sam turned his head towards Dean, curious, but his eyes suddenly went wide.

”De—” He didn’t have a chance to get more out before someone attacked his brother from behind.

With a breath stuck in his throat, Sam saw Dean get yanked from the car as well as heard his surprised yelp. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, Sam got the car door on his side open as fast as possible, and flung himself outside. He quickly rounded the car and ran over to where Dean and a smaller character were fighting, using their bare hands. Dean used his to shield himself, while the other, reached for his throat, seemingly trying to strangle him. And even though Dean was larger in size, he seemed to be the underdog, maybe because of the sheer intensity of the swings from the other.

Sam grabbed a hold of the figure, that fought with everything she had, clawing at them. It was hard to tell in the lack of lightening, Dean had dropped the flashlight, but he had at least gathered that it was a female.

She got in a hit on Sam, hitting him square in the jaw. It hurt like a bitch, as Dean would say, but thankfully Sam managed to block the next strike. Meanwhile Dean had collected himself, and helped Sam with the task of getting a hold of their attacker.

Soon, Dean had a grip around one of her arms, Sam around the other. However, she kept squirming and kicking, so they had no choice but to force her down on her back against the ground.

As Sam held one hand on one of her shoulders and the other around her neck, he could put his weight over her, making it close to impossible for her to escape. This made it possible for Dean to momentarily leave him alone to retrieve the flashlight, since you were at such a disadvantage. Dean was back in a matter of seconds, and after taking a deep breath he flicked on the light, shining it down over Sam’s shoulder, to reveal the mystery girl.

Dean felt as an electrical shock ran through him when he saw you, and he was pretty sure Sammy felt the same way as he let out a gasp. You were covered in dirt that dulled your skin and the colors of your flannel and jeans, that by the way looked terribly cold in this moment, but sure it was really you. Your hair was spread around your head like an aura. The bright light forced the pupils of your eyes to constrict as every speck of color they held, that neither Dean or Sam had seen in what felt like an eternity, were on display. On the not-so-bright side, they were filled with pure terror that made the hearts of your brothers clench. You looked like a dear caught in the headlights.

Both of your trembling hands reached up to and grabbed Sam’s large one, trying to pry it of your neck. When Sam realized this, he immediately removed his, as if he had been burned. But there was something with you that made him move it to your shoulder instead of letting you go.

”(Y/N)…” Dean uttered, as he almost dropped the flashlight, completely startled.

Them both stared down at you with wide eyes and you looked up at them, petrified.

”Please,” you whimpered under your breath, barely audible.

”What?” Sam questioned, confused, with his voice barely over a whisper too.

”Please, don’t,” you begged your voice so scratchy it almost came out a just a wheeze.

Your brothers didn’t understand why you looked so scared that you might succumb to a heart attack brought on by fear, in any moment. They watched as you breathing picked up, your whole body was tense. You looked like wild animal that had been caught. Dean and Sam shared a concerned glance before they looked back down at you. But before they could ask, you continued.

”Please d-don’t kill me.”

Dean and Sam were both severely taken back. Kill you? You really, honestly thought that they would finish you off. They both knew that hell screwed with your head, but it just became clear to them how damaged you were.

Sam wanted to let go of his grip, but he didn’t dare to. Your behavior was erratical, you did in no way act like yourself, the girl you were over a year ago. He didn’t know what you would do, maybe you would take off, or maybe perform a second murder attempt.

”(Y/N), we’re not going to kill you.” Dean stated, so shocked that he couldn’t keep his voice from breaking as he saw you in this frazzle.

You didn’t look convinced at all, instead your eyes kept darting from him to Sam.

”We would never, ever, do that.” Sam emphasized, his voice low and sad. His eyes burned, he could feel the tears coming.

His heart ached so much for you. He wanted nothing more than to hug you tight, bring you home, wrap you up and never let go again. He wanted to restore you, but the thing was that he started to doubt that was even possible when he saw you before his eyes.

”I-I know I’m a monster, but please…” You continued on, your voice now strangled as tears welled up in your eyes, maybe even intensifying the color of them even more. Your lower lip began to tremble as the drops of salt spilled over and rolled down the sides of your face.

Sam couldn’t stop himself anymore, he pulled you up from the ground by the grip he had on your shoulders. Throughout the whole motion, your body was stiff and your eyes round, full of horror. Sam tried not to think about this as he pulled the trembling you into his embrace.

Meanwhile Dean had lowered himself down to your and Sam’s level. ”You are not a monster, (Y/N).”

Sam noted that his eyes were pooling with tears too, and they didn’t get dryer when they met Sam’s teary orbs. This pained them both, so much.

After about 10 seconds, you started breathing again, first fast and shallowly, but then the breaths finally seemed to slow down. Your body gradually relaxed to after minutes return to a more normal state. And at about this moment you let out a sob, as shivers enveloped you.

Sam looked at Dean and mouthed ’she’s freezing’ to him, and Dean immediately took off his jacket and handed it to Sam so that he could wrap it around you. He was wearing three layers under it anyway, whereas you only seemed to be wearing one. And laying dead in a coffin for 15 months didn’t do you any favors either.

You were dead. And now, now you were here, in Sam’s arms.

It sure was one hell of a mind-blowing thought. Dean couldn’t wrap his head around it. However, he was beyond happy that he was able to take your hand in his own, to have you near once again.

The three of you sat there for a while, until your brothers decided that it was too cold for you, and they led you towards the car. You were acting very out of character, with your eyes darting over the scene, constantly wide open. You seemed distant yet overly cautious, but at least they got you walking.

Sam jumped into the backseat with you, Dean behind the wheel. It didn’t take long for you to fall into deep sleep, leaning against the car door to your left, as far away from Sam as possible. However, Sam carefully reached over and with a secure hold, leaned you against him so that you could drool on his jacket instead of the panel of the door.

Every now and then, Dean glanced through the rearview mirror at his younger siblings, always having an eye one you two. Because, this could never, ever, happen again.

After a few days of just hanging out by the motel, regaining strength, you had begun to take on your former psyche. But there was still a long way to go, and you were still very different.

At the moment, you were sitting on a bench, pushed up against the outer wall, right outside the door of your motel room. You were watching the endless amount of stars above you on the night sky that seemed to start by the edge of the motel roof, and then go on for as long as your eyes could see. You had really missed this.

Besides you sat Dean. Sammy had fallen asleep inside of the warm, lit up room, filled with chatter from the TV. Outside however it was quiet, until Dean broke the silence.

”How are you feeling?” His voice was gentle as you saw through the corner of your eye that he turned his head towards you. He was watching you as you continued watching the light speckles above.

You shrugged. It was hard to put it into words. Another would have gotten annoyed, but not Dean. He was patient.

”Look, if you ever want to talk about it, hit me up. Whenever.”

You thought about this for a moment. Then it started pouring out of you.

”There was a room. It was just me, you and Sam.” Your voice was low and you pronounced the words slowly. You squinted your eyes and the stars got out of focus. You weren’t really watching anything, but you kept your head turned upwards.

Dean kept his eyes on you. ”In hell?”

”Yeah.” You slowly nodded. ”And everyday I had to kill you, or you killed me.”

Dean was left without words. A million thoughts ran through his head, but he couldn’t convey any of them. He really couldn’t think of anything more traumatizing.

There was a brief pause before you continued.

”Sometimes it was Bobby. A few times it was Dad. But almost every time it was you.” Your voice was hollowed and distanced. You shared the memories rather easily but that were just because of that fact that you distanced yourself. ”If I killed you I got to live another day, level up. But if you killed me… Restart.”

That explained your behavior when you and your brothers first reunited. You had fought in hell so many times, you just did it by automation.

”When I woke up, I thought it was just another day. I’m sorry.”

”That must’ve been horrible… I-I can’t imagine.” Dean finally said. ”Don’t be sorry. I, we, understand.”

You nodded, and it got quite for a moment, again.

”I don’t think I belong here anymore.” You said, which startled and caused Dean even more agony, if that was even possible.

”Why?” His voice was trembling, he sounded like a sad kid.

”I-I’m different. Worse. I’ve done bad things.” You spoke, trying to put your feelings into words. ”I don’t fit in. ’What’s dead should stay dead’, you said so Dean.”

Now Dean violently shook his head, before looking up at the stars again, tears burning his eyes. ”No. No, (Y/N), I was wrong.” He looked back at you as he sniffled. ”You belong here. You’re a good person, maybe the best I know. Don’t think any less of yourself. You should be here with us, alive.”

He reached out and took one of your hands from your lap. You flinched by the touch, and for the first time took your eyes off the sky, and followed his hand with your gaze. Then, you looked up, into his green eyes.

”Sam and I love you, (Y/N).” Dean spoke seriously. ”Don’t forget that. And we’re going to help you. Things will go back to normal, I promise.”

”I’m sorry, I can’t see any light. I can’t see tomorrow.” You stated, your voice empty.

Misery shot through your older brother’s eyes.

”Oh, kiddo.” He breathed out as he reached out his free hand and pulled you into a hug, pressed you close against him. ”This is usually Sammy’s line, but, there’s always light at the end of the tunnel, (Y/N). We’re going to help you see it. Everything is going to be okay, little sister.”

No One Knows Part 9

Pairing: Eggsy x Reader

A/N: it is 2 am you all better fucking love me, JUST GOING TO LET EVERYONE KNOW RIGHT NOW THAT EGGSY IS NOT DRUNK AND IS ACTING I DO NOT WANT ANYONE TO THINK HE ACTUALLY IS DRUNK

Masterlist

Prologue

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 

Originally posted by ridleydaisy

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Gabriel with subtle separation anxiety after he and Jack reconcile. Like if he knows Jack is going somewhere it’s fine but…

But the first night they share a bed again he wakes up alone and panics. Because what if it was all some pathetic sad dream or what if Jack left him again? What if everyone leaves because he deserves to be alone? It all bubbles up in his chest thicker and thicker and he feels like he’s going to fall apart and then–

Then Jack pops his head in the door, spatula in one hand, and asks if he’s alright. (He heard him moving and knows how Gabe’s pain is sometimes.) And before he can even think about doing it Gabriel’s across the room and holding onto him. He has to be sure he’s real, he just has to. And Jack is, because small miracles do happen, and he was just making breakfast. And he apologizes for not waking Gabriel but he just looked so peaceful.

He doesn’t make the mistake again at least. From then on Jack wakes him before going to make breakfast. Most days, Gabriel can just go back to sleep knowing Jack’s just a room over making pancakes. But some mornings he latches on, half asleep, and Jack drags him around the kitchen, Gabriel still stubbornly wrapped in blankets and putting all his weight on Jack’s side, while he cooks and sings in that gravely voice of his. And it’s disgustingly domestic and just the kind of small thing that means the most.

Tattoo Pt 1

Season 3a Masterlist

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 2,874

Warnings: Mentions of Sex, Fluff

   It was around noon when I finally woke up. Stiles was softly snoring underneath me, and I smiled, looking up at him. These past four months have been so normal and fun, and Stiles and I easily slipped into our relationship. Scott says it was because we were practically dating already, just without the kissing.

   Scott and Allison were still split up, but he was taking it pretty well, and despite his relationship ending, he had been nothing but supportive to ours. Sheriff had already taken me in with open arms, as did my parents for Stiles. It seemed like they all expected this to happen sooner or later. I think my dad had hoped it would just be a little later than now.

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firebyfire  asked:

Newt giving Percival massage using fancy oils from the other side of the world? Percival had a very long, tiring day at work and seeing how tense he is, Newt asked if Percival wouldn't like a massage - Percival simply melts under Newt's hands.

Oh, this is dangerously bordering on smut, but I’ll leave that for another time *winks*

A bit deviated, because they’re not in an established relationship there, oops. And second oops, have another one-shot lengthy thing.


Graves was dead tired. Not your usual type of tired. He simply had a torturing day at MACUSA’s headquarters that day, and he questioned himself: why didn’t Grindelwald use this type of torture instead of his plain Cruciatus? Because Graves was sure, if Grindelwald gave him tons of paperwork and told him that the American wizarding community depended on how he succeeds, then he’d exhaust himself to the point of dying.

And as if to torture him some more, Seraphina ordered him to check up on the junior aurors, who investigated a banal thievery case. Thing which resulted with a caught niffler, an injured junior, and with Graves’ back almost being broken. Because Cooper didn’t know if you point your wand at a desk and Accio it, then it will fly directly in your face. Even if it happened while trying to stop the niffler.

Graves, naturally, being responsible of his subordinates’ well-being, - Mercy Lewis, give him strength - rushed to get the unfortunate idiot from under the desk, which unceremoniously squashed the guy under itself. It was a massive desk, made of hard wood, and it was heavy as hell. He did try to use wandless magic, even a verbal spell with his wand, but as he will find out moments later, the surprises didn’t finish.

The desk was spelled, the magic didn’t work on it. Graves groaned and used all of his physical strength to get the poor guy out. He had at least three broken ribs and his chest was heavily raising and falling. Obviously he had difficulties with his respiration, so by the time the other newbies ran back and forth after the little thief, Graves took the guy in his hands and apparated them directly to MACUSA’s hospital.

Leaving junior auror Cooper in the care of experienced hands, he went back to his office, back to his new prison cell, back to the pile of never ending documents. He shrugged off his coat and just when he wanted to finally sit, to relax a goddamned second, Tina barged in and Graves let out a sigh, rubbing a hand down his face.

“What is it, Goldstein?“ he hissed at her.

“Mr. Graves, sir, Mr. Scamander wants to talk to you about one of his beasts-“

“Tell him to come in.“ he cut her blabbering by raising a hand.

“Sure.“ she disappeared through the door of his office and after a moment of stretched silence - while he still was standing - a hesitant knock on his door made him roll his eyes in annoyance.

“Come in, Scamander.”

“Mr. Graves?“ A ginger head peeked inside and then a full body, wrapped in that blue coat with a case dragged after, made its appearance as well.

“Scamander,“ Graves started carefully, eyeing the slumped shoulders and ducked head of the Brit. He knew it. Somewhere, deep inside, he fucking knew it. “don’t tell me that bloody niffler is yours.“

Newt’s head snapped up “Did you find him? Where is he? You didn’t treat him badly, did you?“

Graves didn’t like that accusatory tone. Like he was evil, and killed or maltreated everyone- every magical beast he crossed paths with.

He clicked his tongue “Scamander, your niffler caused such a disaster, you’ll have to use Reparo over and over for some hours straight.“ Newt ducked his head again, but watched Graves intently from under that messy fringe of his. Graves could feel those eyes burning holes in his chest. “Your niffler was captured, and is safe.“

Newt relaxed visibly “Can I…?“ he asked uncertain.

“Yeah, of course you can. But-“ Graves stopped, eyeing the brown leather case “for Lewis’ sake, Scamander, repair those latches and make sure no one escapes anymore.“

“Oh, s-sure, Mr. Graves, thank you very much.“ Newt beamed, holding onto his case with both hands and ready to dash out any moment.

Graves waved a hand in a dismissing gesture and sat down on his chair.

All the bloody nifflers and spelled desks in the world, what the fuck.

A pain shot right through his spine and he growled. Or yelled. Or started cursing loudly. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, because holy shit, the pain dulled all of other senses, shooting through him whenever he moved a goddamn muscle.

Perhaps he was older than he thought of himself.

Newt hurried over, holding his head in those hands and Graves tried to blink the tears out of his eyes before focusing on the man in front of him.

“Mr. Graves, what happened? Mr. Graves, where hurts?“

Graves swatted his hands in annoyance “Scamander,“ he hissed and groaned as another wave of hellish pain washed over him “fuck you.“

He paid no attention to Newt’s baffled look, and continued cursing “You, your bloody niffler, Picquery, Cooper - that imbecile, the freaking spelled desk and my age. Fuck everything.“ he finished and tried to stand up, only to fall back into his chair and howl in pain, this time he was sure.

“Mr. Graves.“

Probably Scamander didn’t understand just how much he suffered, probably he wanted to make him suffer some more-

“Let’s get you home and I’ll take care of… everything.“ Newt said, and when Graves looked at him, glared at him, his glare was met with nothing but determination.

Scamander was determined to kill him completely.

Newt helped him up and Accio’ed his case before grabbing firmly onto his hand.

“Lead the way, Mr. Graves.“ Newt told him and Graves pondered for a moment there, that it was much better to die at home, on his comfortable bed than in this office, in this gigantic pile of papers.

Graves apparated both of them into his appartment and supported himself off a wall. Newt propped him up and dragged into his bedroom. Graves was kind of taken aback by the strength in those hands.

Newt put him carefully on the bed and easing himself out of his coat, vest and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he demanded “Take off your clothes, Mr. Graves.“

Graves sputtered and looked up at him as if Newt grew another head. What the fuck, Scamander?

“Scamander, if you want to kill me, I prefer to die clothed, thank you very much.“

“W-what?“ Newt’s eyebrows shot up in surprise “What made you think so, h-how even-?“

“I don’t know.“ Graves said and winced. His body surely wanted him dead, for example.”Because we caught your niffler and all that.“

“That little bugger deserved to be caught, I wanted to catch him myself, but you were faster, I suppose.” Newt explained as his hand worked on Graves’ vest and only when he took it off and started unbuttoning Graves’ shirt, that snapped out of his haze.

“Scamander, what the hell. I’m capable of undressing myself.“ he said and tried to shrug off his shirt. Another wave of pain abused the muscles of his back. He shuddered and grimaced at the feeling.

“Mr. Graves, Percival, please.“ Newt said softly “Let me take care of it. Okay?“

Graves nodded absentminded, and let Newt push him gently onto his bed.

“I’ll be right back in a minute.“ Graves heard Newt say through the increasing pulse beating in his ears. The pain was insufferable. Not as that one caused by the Cruciatus curse, obviously, but really close.

In what seemed to be like eternity, - in fact only two or so minutes - Newt was back and holding a lot of small colorful bottles. He made Graves lie on his stomach, helping him to flip carefully, then poured something on Graves back and after that, Graves legit thought he died, because this was heaven, for sure.

The pain slowly  was reduced and Graves could finally breathe properly and not suffocate because of it. He felt Newt’s hands roaming all over his back, rubbing oils into his skin, massaging his sore muscles using just the right amount of pressure.

Another bottle opened and the room was filled with a sweet scent. Graves found himself humming in contentment as his limbs became all mushy.

Newt chuckled and it was such a pretty sound, Graves wanted to hear more of it.

“These were a gift from a tribe in South Africa.“ A thumb traced up and down Graves’ vertebral column “They were really grateful when I treated their chimaera-” Newt stopped himself abruptly and slapped himself mentally for mentioning such a highly illegal and dangerous beast in the presence of an auror, the director of Magical Security himself.

But Graves didn’t really catch that, or better said, didn’t even want to, because thinking of something else while having those hands on him, was a crime itself.

Newt kept rubbing and massaging and Graves lost himself in sensations completely. He drifted off to sleep in the middle of it.

He woke up in the morning to a ginger head pressed closely to his side and Newt Scamander wrapped in a blanket next to him, on his bed, snoring lightly and mumbling something in his sleep.

What did Scamander do in his apartment? Hopefully, he was dressed under his own blanket, because if not, that meant- Graves carefully lifted the blanket off him and gaped. Oh, no.

Newt stirred and opened an eye to look at him. Graves stopped moving.

“Morning, Percival.“

P-Percival??? Since when???

“How is your back? Does it hurt?“

Bloody hell. He wasn’t drunk the previous day, was he?

“N-no.“ Graves stuttered. “Scamander, I mean, Newt.“ he started, clearing his throat. “Did we…?“ he said and gestured suggestively between them.

Newt’s reaction was immediate. His blush expanded up to the tips of his ears and down to his neck.

“O-of course n-not!“ Newt mumbled, looking away, hiding his eyes “Your back. You hurt your back and I gave you a massage.“

Graves’ eyebrow shot up at that “But how the hell I ended up naked then?“

“Well,“ Newt chewed on his bottom lip “it didn’t limit only to your back?“

“I just hope you didn’t massage my…“ Graves hid his face in an open palm and sighed heavily.

“No, but that can be fixed!“ Completely misunderstanding his words, Newt reached to tug at Graves’ blanket. Holy fuck.

Graves looked up, catching the blanket and threw his pillow at him.

“Get the fuck out, Scamander!“