to set eyes again upon your heart.

Ask me anything   My names Alissa and this is where I reblog favorite posts from the mannnnyyy fandoms I follow. Mostly Teen Wolf and a little bit of Supernatural. Nothing more, nothing less.

issietheshark:

blue is the warmest colour (2013)

issietheshark:

blue is the warmest colour (2013)

(via danmassarick)

— 3 weeks ago with 550 notes
"I didn’t fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we’d choose anyway. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you."
(via suchvodka)

(Source: aknai, via greennoticedblue)

— 1 month ago with 51792 notes
#quote 
deanmoans asked: Okay so you can pick which one you like because I sent two... 35 sam and dean (I just really love when you write okay, everything you write is beautiful.)


Answer:

abaddonless:

hold my hand

Sam’s first memory of holding Dean’s hand was from when he was six years old and Dean was ten, already way cooler and way  more interesting than Sam could ever manage to be. (Or so he thought. These days, Sam is clearly far superior.) He doesn’t really remember anything else, just the feeling of safety and happiness that he got from it.

He supposes there was hand holding in the intermediate years between six and ten, but Sam doesn’t really remember those times. They probably weren’t significant.

But at ten, Dean is fourteen and he comes home from one of his first hunts with a banged up shoulder, blood dripping out of his nose, and a wild grin on his face. Sam has been watches anxiously from the window the whole night, TV in the motel off and forgotten.

He grabs Dean’s hand while dad pops his shoulder back into place, and doesn’t let go until Dean passes out from the Vicodin.

They’ve had handshakes and high-fives and fist-bumps (and  that memorable “secret handshake” phase that really just involved a lot of Sam acting like a dumbass, in retrospect) but none of those things felt the same.

None of it really felt the same, Sam guesses, because there’s nothing like holding Dean’s hand on the top of a table in a tiny diner hidden thirty miles off the interstate. It can’t come close to Dean sliding out of his booth to use the restroom, brushing a kiss clean and easy across the back of Sam’s knuckles as he excuses himself.

There are no memories that can compare to that.

send me one of these numbers and one or two characters and get a drabble!

— 2 months ago with 13 notes
#supernatural 
deanmoans asked: Okay so you can pick which one you like because I sent two... 35 sam and dean (I just really love when you write okay, everything you write is beautiful.)


Answer:

abaddonless:

hold my hand

Sam’s first memory of holding Dean’s hand was from when he was six years old and Dean was ten, already way cooler and way  more interesting than Sam could ever manage to be. (Or so he thought. These days, Sam is clearly far superior.) He doesn’t really remember anything else, just the feeling of safety and happiness that he got from it.

He supposes there was hand holding in the intermediate years between six and ten, but Sam doesn’t really remember those times. They probably weren’t significant.

But at ten, Dean is fourteen and he comes home from one of his first hunts with a banged up shoulder, blood dripping out of his nose, and a wild grin on his face. Sam has been watches anxiously from the window the whole night, TV in the motel off and forgotten.

He grabs Dean’s hand while dad pops his shoulder back into place, and doesn’t let go until Dean passes out from the Vicodin.

They’ve had handshakes and high-fives and fist-bumps (and  that memorable “secret handshake” phase that really just involved a lot of Sam acting like a dumbass, in retrospect) but none of those things felt the same.

None of it really felt the same, Sam guesses, because there’s nothing like holding Dean’s hand on the top of a table in a tiny diner hidden thirty miles off the interstate. It can’t come close to Dean sliding out of his booth to use the restroom, brushing a kiss clean and easy across the back of Sam’s knuckles as he excuses himself.

There are no memories that can compare to that.

send me one of these numbers and one or two characters and get a drabble!

— 2 months ago with 13 notes
#supernatural 
what was it like?
like growing flowers in my chest and
forgetting to pull out the weeds.

(x)

(Source: uhwincest, via samlikesdean)

— 2 months ago with 2534 notes
#supernatural 

I mean… God, I want you too. I always had, Derek.

(Source: leeeeeex, via sterekbros)

— 2 months ago with 5967 notes
#sterek  #derek hale  #stiles stilinski  #derek/stiles  #teen wolf 
Anonymous asked: Sterek derek or stiles proposing marriage


Answer:

raisesomehale:

Fuck, marry me,” Stiles groans, breathless and coiled so tight he’s sure he’d snap in half if it wasn’t for the heat and friction of Derek underneath him keeping him in one piece.

And normally Stiles would think that it’d be the other way around - that it would be the weight of Derek on top of him grounding him to earth, to their bed - the one they’d picked out together at Ikea after Derek had ruined the headboard for their first one.

But instead it’s Stiles pressing Derek down, and it’s Derek who pulls his head away from where he’d pressed it against his arm, biting the skin there to keep from moaning openly, to stare at Stiles with wide, surprised eyes.

"What?" He asks, breathless just like Stiles feels. And Stiles comes to a stop, lifting himself up to look down at Derek.

"Huh?" He says, mind still lost somewhere back between getting Derek’s clothes off and tangling their hands together against the mattress as he pushed inside.

"You said -" Derek swallows, wide-eyed, and in a rush it comes back to Stiles, how he hadn’t been bothered to bite down on his tongue as he blurted the first thing that came to mind in the moment.

"Right," Stiles says, and swallows himself. "Yeah," but he doesn’t regret saying it. In fact, it feels almost like relief to have it out there in the open after all this time. After getting used to waking up pressed against Derek on rainy Sundays where they don’t have to get up all day. After finding it to be second nature to joke and laugh and press up against Derek’s back as he cooks one of his families old recipes. 

"Yeah," Stiles repeats, and tries to put as much purchase and sincerity behind the one word. 

"Are you serious?" Derek asks, now getting up to lean on his elbows.

It’s ridiculous, because Stiles never feels vulnerable with Derek in bed - not since the first time Derek pressed him down onto the comforter in his old room - but here they are, putting on serious business faces and discussing something monumental while Stiles is still inside Derek.

He’d probably laugh if he wasn’t worried he’d cry instead, because he wants this. He wants lazy morning blow jobs and sloppy kisses as they exchange hand jobs after a long day. He wants stupid fights over leaving laundry hanging over the door and Derek barking at Stiles to put the cap back on the toothpaste, dammit.

He wants morning coffee and toast with avocado because Derek is a weirdo and combines food Stiles would never have thought of but ends up loving.

He loves avocado on toast and he loves Derek.

"As serious as I can be while mid-fuck," Stiles manages, and they both glance down at where they’re connected.

Derek hums at the sight, then looks back up at Stiles, “We’ve never… talked about this.”

"We don’t have to," Stiles is quick to say, "Not right now, at least."

Derek nods solemnly, “Yeah,” he agrees. But suddenly all Stiles wants to do is talk about this, make plans for their future together, if Derek wants one with him, that is.

"Yes," Derek says after a beat of silence, voice filled with more finality than it had before. 

Stiles’ gaze snaps up to Derek’s, and he feels just as exhilarated and scared as Derek looks.

"Yeah?" Stiles asks, smile spreading his lips wide. "You mean it?"

Derek rolls his eyes, cheeks flushed red, and nods.

Stiles laughs and presses Derek back down into the mattress, “You can’t change your mind,” Stiles says against Derek’s lips, “No take backsies, you know the rules.”

And Derek snorts, brushing his thumb over the apple of Stiles’ cheek with his thumb, “You’re ridiculous.”

"Hey," Stiles says, smiling purely for the fact that he doesn’t feel like he could stop even if he tried, "You’re the one who just agreed to marry me."

"Yeah," Derek says, pressing his thumb to Stiles’ bottom lip, "I did." 

Stiles is still smiling when he presses his lips against Derek’s mouth.

— 2 months ago with 1986 notes
#teen wolf  #sterek  #derek/stiles  #derek hale  #stiles stilinski