starspangledcaptainamerica:

Send me a ♦ for an unsent text.

Send me a ♥ for a heart felt confession.

Send me a ♯ for what my muse finds attractive about yours.

Send me a ☠ for a threatening text.

Send me a ♫ for what my muse thinks of yours.

Send me a ✉ for a 2am text.

Send me a ♚ for a drunk text

otpprompts:

Imagine your most self-conscious OTP person giving the other a striptease.

shockingdarcy:

l-oie-sauvage:

shockingdarcy:

l-oie-sauvage:

shockingdarcy:

 

She was eating twizzlers again, had one hanging out of the corner of her mouth when he finally stirred. It wasn’t that she had been there the entire time, either. She had managed to sneak out twice, with some careful replacement of her body with her largest pillow, but she didn’t dare try a third time.

Even though she really, really had to pee.

“What’s wrong?” she was trying not to bounce her knee as she held it in. “Twizzler?”

Pip looked up at her, noting her discomfort. “Nothing that can’t wait. Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting here this whole time? You could have woken me up and I would have moved.” He gently nudged her off the bed. “Vas-y. I’m not going anywhere. I can’t with a stab wound.”

“As if, I’ve been out of the bed at least three times since you passed out. You’ve gotten comfortable with me or your painkillers are really great,” she grinned. Darcy’s grin faltered though and she squirmed to get out from under him.

“Okay but I reaaaally have to pee now so can you…?”

“Go, go.” Pip eased her off the bed in earnest and gave her a gentle shove. “Don’t wait around because of me. I’ll be fine on my own for un peu de temps.” With her away, it would give him time to gather his thoughts and compose himself.

He sat up when she left and picked up a pack of cigarettes. Digging one out, he lit it and the nicotine calmed his nerves. Pip was flipping through the pages of the book she had left nearby when she returned.

“Le Petit Prince? I didn’t know you liked Antoine de Saint-Expury.”

He wasn’t supposed to go through the book. In fact, she had somehow thought he wouldn’t be interested in any books, not the ones she liked anyway. When Darcy returned she paused by the edge of the bed and her mouth fell open stupidly and her cheeks burned bright.

“I.. well I don’t.. I mean, I didn’t, I was just..” she felt lame, admitting the real reason behind trying to read the book. It was in French and under that book was a French to English language guide. She obviously wasn’t very far into it and had little slips of paper marking where she left off with notes scrawled onto it.

She was trying to understand French, and probably going about it all wrong.

“Tiens, viens ici.” Pip frowned and tugged on her hand, pulling her onto his lap. He’d seen the paper, but ignored it in favor of the book itself. Antoine de Saint Expury was one of his favorite authors. “Are you trying to learn my language? There’s no shame in that.”

“That wasn’t the only thing he wrote. He was a fighter pilot during World War II et he wrote about his experiences going up in the air. I read them as a kid; my eyes were glued to the page the entire time. I have a worn out copy of an anthology that has Le Petit Prince in it along with his memoirs somewhere in my room. I’ve had it for years.” He shrugged. “They teach it in school, anyway, donc that was a nice choice on your part.”

“How’s it going for you? Are you doing all right?”

100% chance is that I’m stalking your blog from afar, reading your roleplays, sending you anons, & wishing I could be one of the lucky people who write with you but aM JUST HIDING IN A CORNER TOO AFRAID TO SAY ANYTHING. 

(Source: bearerofthering)