brown slacks

A photo of Jeffrey Dahmer entering the courtroom.  This picture highlights his singular rigid posture: spine ramrod straight, shoulders squared, and arms stiff at his sides.  He isn’t wearing glasses because he took them off every day before walking into court so that he wouldn’t be able to see the faces of the people around him.  Dahmer displayed an outward appearance of calm emotionlessness, which The Washington Post unkindly went as far as to call “necrotic vacancy,”  throughout his trial, barely talking or even moving and keeping his eyes firmly downcast.  “His only reaction to testimony seems to be faster blinking as he looks at his lap or the edge of the table,” observed The Milwaukee Journal.  Contrary to the media’s perceptions, Dahmer’s lawyer Gerald Boyle stated that his client was actually extremely distraught and tense, declaring, “He’s a very desperate young man. He is very troubled, and he is in a high, anxious mood because of what has happened.”  Indeed, Dahmer’s lack of any response at all in court, and his comments in psychologist interviews, give off the impression of a man so intensely private and ashamed that he would rather disappear off the face of the earth than suffer the scrutiny of the public gaze.  “I just feel like imploding upon myself, you know?  I just want to go somewhere and disappear,” he confessed to psychologist Kenneth Smail. 

Dahmer’s appearance throughout his trial reflected his increasingly fragile, agitated mental state.  Initially, he was so anxious about how he would look in front of the cameras that he managed to persuade Detective Patrick Kennedy to loan him an old outfit of his son’s in lieu of the standard orange jumpsuit.  As the weeks passed and the stress of having every single one of the (literal) skeletons in his closet being dragged out into the open and minutely examined took its toll, however, Dahmer lost the energy to maintain his looks.  He gained a substantial amount of weight, neglected to shave or wash his hair, and wore the same ill-fitting brown sports coat and slacks for several days in a row.  Dahmer was so intent on making himself as invisible as possible in court that he refused even to speak in his own defense, saying, “I’m not going to get up on the bench and say anything, that’s for sure, no way … I’m not going to sit up in front of all those people and try to answer questions.”

1 | Save Me

word count: 

series warnings: violence, gore, probably smut at some point I mean it’s me we’re talking about, this chapter has mention of non-con

Originally posted by annabartollo

masterlist | ask | next

Another gloomy day, another substitute teacher. You looked up at the elderly man who stood at the front of the classroom, he was wearing brown slacks and a messily ironed green plaid shirt, no wedding ring, no signs of any life beyond being a substitute teacher at the university. Pity dawned on you when you noticed his face burning with embarrassment when the wave of realisation that he had no idea what he was doing washed over him. Not being able to watch the old man struggle any longer you raised your hand, to the surprise of everybody in the room, 

“Yes Y/N?" 

"Sir would you like me to help? I still have some of Mr Lee’s lesson plans in my bag I could-" 

"That won’t be necessary Y/N. I’m perfectly capable of doing things myself.” The man scolded before he turned around to write some equations on the board, he was much harsher than you anticipated. 

Exhaling deeply you slouched back into your chair, you missed your old professor, Mr Lee. He was a much nicer man. Though he was younger than most professors, he was always very friendly, smart and helpful, everything a professor should be. And being a high achiever in his class didn’t go unnoticed, once a week he would let you teach your group, and with you being president of the student union it meant that nobody could argue with his decision either. Other students had their theories, that you and he were secretly hooking up on late night study sessions, either that or the only reason he was so nice to you was because his younger brother was your flat mate. However none of the rumours were true, except from you living with his brother who was also a student. But that all changed two weeks ago, nobody knows exactly what happened but Mr Lee just vanished out of nowhere, completely disappeared off the face of the Earth. Of course there were varying theories, but nobody saw anything, nobody heard anything, nobody knew anything. And so your fate of having to face substitute teacher after substitute teacher day after day was sealed. 

“She’s feisty today.” The orange haired boy sat next to you muttered, loud enough for you to hear, 

Keep reading


not enough for her to snag charlie’s clothes now she gotta steal jonathan’s style as well ;)

One Breakfast at a Time

upperstories submitted:

(Rough Around the Edges, pt. 2)


Summary: The following morning… 


Boris’s feet felt prickly.

The first thought that dredged up the wolf’s mind from the thick, murky mires of sleep was that there was a foreign, uncomfortable feeling in his toes. It wasn’t quite painful, but it was distracting. Which was a shame; quite honestly, as the rest of him felt like it was swaddled in a soft, warm cloud, like lying on a mountain of fleece. He was dreaming of sleeping on the back of a large, comfy sheep. Maybe if he moved his feet right, he could shoo the strange sensation away and get back to sinking completely into the wool.

His toes twitched, and the tingling feeling went up both his legs completely. That hurt.

“YIPE!” Boris yelped, knees hiking in alarm, eyes flying open.

The first thing that greeted him was strange visual tones and hues, blurred from the sleep in his eyes and the tingling in his feet. They were—oh, whadyacallems?—Blues. And Greens. Only lighter, greyer, faintly cast across the ceiling above him, making him squint. It followed the outline of a windowpane.

His foggy mind thought, not for the first time:

How long will it take before them colors look normal?

Motion at his side had him shaking his noggin, revealing the familiar heads of to his pals, moppy and disheveled from sleep. Alice muttered something under her breath—when had her halo hung itself up on that lamp?— and Bendy snuggled closer into the pillows, a bit of drool staining the soft cushion.

Recognition stumbled into his brain as his eyes adjusted to the dim early morning light.

He wasn’t sleeping on a bed of fleece. He was sharing a bed with Alice and Bendy, feeling mighty cozy in spite of being too long to rightly fit on the mattress length-wise, which explained why his feet weren’t under the covers. The tingling must’ve been because they’d been leaning over the end board all night.

Asleep, his feet were asleep. That’s what this feeling felt like. Except… it was much stronger than how it’d felt before, back in the world drenched in ink.

Dang, the real world felt strange.

Trying his best not to disturb the other two sleeping Toons, Boris slowly pulled his bare feet under the blankets, wincing as he flexed the tingling feeling out of them. They were cold to the touch, as were the ends of his ears and snout, a stark difference compared to the comfy warm bubble formed underneath the covers from his proximity to his friends. If he stayed still enough, curled up a ball, maybe he could go back his sweet, soft, monochromatic dreams…

The door creaked, and Boris was awake.

In the semi darkness, the wolf made out the shape of a figure entering the room, familiar in spite of his loss of Toonification. It was Henry.

Err. At least. Boris was pretty sure it was Henry.

The man had Henry’s almost square-ish head, large ears, surly set face and all, but in place of the man’s wrinkled light green shirt and brown slacks was a plaid patterned collared shirt, all blues and grays, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and the bottom half of a dark grey jumpsuit, faded at the knees and the top half wrapped messily around his waist. His black work boots were word around the souls. It all smelled faintly of engine oil.

A change of clothes shouldn’t have been completely out of left field for the Toon (as he recalled, Bendy changed his wardrobe a number of times over a wide variety of episodes), but the old animator’s plainer duds had almost seemed glued to him. Seeing Henry in less plain-looking clothes felt like seeing a camel in a bunny onesie. Strange.

He silently watched Henry tread to the bedside table on Bendy’s side of the bed and leave a note next to the lamp. The man looked haggard, but clean. His hair was even combed.

Boris considered keeping his head down, pretending to be asleep. But then, just as it looked like he was about to leave, Henry stopped and turned around, looking back at the bed of Toons. Contemplating, eyes unfocused and glassy—from lack of sleep, perhaps?— grey circles under them. The wolf’s felt his heart clench, and he lifted his head.

“Henry?” he whispered.

Henry jumped and caught himself on the wall.

“JEEZ—” Henry breathed, forced his voice down. “Boris— scared the daylights outta me.”

“Sorry—!” Boris’s ears fell back. “Sorry.”

Henry put a hand to his chest and sighed. His eyes looked less glassy, more awake.

“Agh, I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Did Henry look guilty? Nah, it must’ve been Boris’s imagination.

“Nah,” said Boris, truthfully. “Feet fell asleep. Woke me up instead.”

The corners of Henry’s mouth twitched. If Boris didn’t know any better, he could almost mistake the man’s grimace as a smile. It almost met his eyes.

“Headin’ off somewhere?” said Boris, nodding towards the note.

“Just about,” whispered Henry.

He motioned for Boris to follow him out of the room, finger to his lips. Boris nodded, trying to be mindful of jostling the bed, so as not to rouse Alice or Bendy. The wolf was thankful for his thick coat of fur (ink?) once he was free from the blankets, as the room was fairly brisk without the protection. Boris swallowed a whine and followed after the grizzled animator.

On their way to the den, Henry grabbed a large, dark green jacket from one of the hampers in the hallway. He gave it a tentative sniff to check if it was clean, shrugged, and offered it to Boris. Boris sniffed as well. It smelled of Henry and mothballs. It would do. The sleeves came up an inch short of his wrists though.

“Gotta go plead to the powers that be that I don’t end up unemployed before the day’s end,” said Henry once they were a safe whisper-free distance from the bedroom, sighing and scratching his neck. “I, uh, took a few more vacation days than I’d originally planned.”

Boris’s stomach dropped, guiltily. The studio.

“Oh, golly… wha… that was our fault—”

“S’nobody’s fault,” said Henry, patting Boris’s shoulder. They passed the couch. It didn’t show any signs of Henry sleeping on it. “I might have to work a few extra shifts to make up for it though. My boss, Callum? Not exactly known for being forgiving, but he can be fair when he needs to be.”

Boris nodded, faint memories of his own past experiences with “unforgiving bosses” arising. His tail tucked between his legs, the wound from the harsh look on Joey’s face all those days ago in that office now fresh in his mind’s eye. When the air was thick with acetone and Henry’s open cartoon wounds. His nose twitched, feeling a little sick at the memory.

“M-Maybe I should come with ya,” said Boris, the weightlessness of Henry leaning on him ghosting along his shoulder. He gripped it. “Help explain a few things—”

“Boris,” said Henry. There was no harshness in his voice, but it was still firm. “I… I appreciate it, Pup. I really do. But… you need to stay here. All three of you. Lay low for a while.”

Boris tried his best not to look discouraged. Henry patted his shoulder again and gave it a squeeze. It felt odd, not having to look down on Henry as much as he had when the animator was still a Toon. Henry squared his shoulders, and Boris felt assured.

“It’s… too much, out there,” Henry nodded to the window. A car honked, followed by another, and across the way, some neighbors were opening windows to do laundry. A lady waved out a large red blanket, and Boris had to flinch at the brightness of the color, visible even in the dim early morning. “Too much to get used to all at once.  Besides, I know Callum. I’ll be alright.”

Boris felt like crawling into an inkwell. He knew Henry was right, but it wrung his nerves like wet laundry. He felt so… useless. He was supposed to be the helper, the best buddy. He sighed.

A kettle whistled.

“Oh, shoot—” Henry rushed to the stove and turned the knob, using one of the dangling jumpsuit sleeves to take the metal pot from the heat when he couldn’t find his oven mitt, setting it on his oven mitt so the counter wouldn’t burn— ahh. Found the mitt. Hmm. “Sheesh… I, err, tried making something quick for breakfast for you all before I left, but, well. The mess. Heh. Wasn’t able to get as much done as I was hoping…”

Boris turned to the counter while Henry prepared a quick coffee for himself, and noticed, to his surprise, that the tower of bills and mail had been cleared off, leaving room for three sets of plates, bowls, forks and spoons of varying style and size. Each plate had a couple eggs, sunny-side up, glasses of water, and steaming hot bowls of oatmeal—with walnuts and molasses, from the looks of them. Bois sniffed the air above the biggest bowl (he hoped it was his) and licked his chops. It smelled pretty dang good.

Breakfast wasn’t the only change to the den. The mess from last night seemed to have all been pushed to the side, the floor for the most part cleared of debris, if still in need of a vacuuming. Trash bags sat stacked next to the door, ready for dumping, full of the empty bottles and boxes.

…How long had Henry been up, working on all of this?

“Ya didn’t have to…” said Boris, ears flopping back. “Dunno if we really need to eat.”

“A good breakfast might liven up the mood around here,” said Henry, smirking. At least this time it reached his eyes. He quickly downed the contents of the mug, grimacing. “Aghh, love the feeling of burnt tongue in the morning.”

“Ya do?” Boris laughed.

“Nope,” Henry laughed in turn. He set his mug in the sink, which was filled with other much dirtier mugs as well as pots and pans, and put a small tin reading Express-o, Coffee on the Go away. A cast iron skillet was all that was left on the stove, which looked surprisingly well cared for, considering the state of Henry’s other kitchen items. Guess that explained the eggs. He pointed to Boris. “Tea boxes are on the counter too, should be enough hot water between all of you. Don’t let Bendy drink my coffee. I’ll call you all when I’m on my way back. Don’t answer the phone for anyone else.”

“Wha?? Buh—how-how?” said Boris, getting whiplash.

Henry pointed to the other end of the den. A black, faintly dusty dial-up phone sat on the floor, next to the far wall, with a note taped to the wall over it. It read a variety of instructions in Henry’s chicken scrawl shorthand, and a blessedly legible phone number at the bottom. It looked as if it’d been dug up from one of Henry’s old boxes.

“I’ll call three times in a row. Only answer if you get three calls within a few seconds of each other,” said Henry, grabbing a toolbox next to the couch and as many of the trash bags as he could carry. “Other than that, just let it ring.”

“Whuh- wait, Henry!” said Boris, heart leaping in his throat. “I-I’m not so sure we…”

Boris turned to the window, grabbing the sleeve of the jacket. The sun was raising more and more, the world outside of them starting to wake up. Yellows mixed with grays, turning them brown and sandy. He was sorely missing his dreams, drenched in black and white.

“Hey, hey,” said Henry. His hand was back on Boris’s shoulder.

Boris turned to him, every inch of his face dropping, expecting to get one of Henry’s signature rigid, authoritative glares, waiting to be given the hard facts of their situation. Instead, he got a tired, yet… understanding smile. It was lopsided and rough around the edges, and looked wildly unsure.

“It’s ok,” said Henry, in a voice that, despite what his face betrayed, sounded pretty dang convincing.

The wolf felt something inside him—something that he’d kept bunched together throughout the drive, the climb to Henry’s apartment, the scary few minutes this morning where he first experienced his feet falling asleep in the real world and how real the real world felt and how he wasn’t really a wolf he wasn’t real was he?— unclench and, without thinking, he leaned his head on Henry’s shoulder, sagging weightily. Henry teetered, not used to the wolf having a third dimension’s worth of weight to him, but evened out, and wrapped an arm around Boris’s back, toolbox counterbalancing him.

“This is a lot to take in,” said Henry, gruff voice a welcome sound for the poor, overwhelmed wolf. “Don’t rush yourselves through it. Thing’s’ll get easier. I just…” His grip tightened, strong, grounding. “We just gotta make some things work first.”

The wolf whined.

“I just wanna help,” said Boris, voice feeling thicker than glue. “I ain’t much of a good helper though. I couldn’t even help you or Bendy or Alice when everything came crumblin’…”

“Now now, none of that,” Henry almost laughed.

Boris almost had enough nerve to get annoyed, if not for what Henry said next.

“That’s no way to talk about the guy who saved my life. And Bendy’s and Alice’s. And then mine again.” Henry stopped, smirking when he felt Boris quietly snort. “And Bendy’s, again, about, what? Five more times?”

“Mmmh, you’re just saying that…” Boris didn’t sound completely convinced, but the knot loosened a fraction. He pushed from Henry, trying to stand his full height. His cheeks had their old stylized blush back; his ears almost perking sincerely. Almost. He let them droop, eyes downcast. Henry sighed.

“For now… none of us know what we’re doing,” said Henry. “Not even me. And I’m from here. But we’ll figure it out.”

“…one breakfast at a time?” said Boris, trying to smile. It was shaky. Oh, he felt so shaky.

“One breakfast at a time,” said Henry. He reached up and scratched Boris between the ears, and Boris relaxed. He felt his tail wag, if only just a bit.

“But seriously,” Henry added. He was grinning, almost… devilishly. “Keep. Bendy. Away from my coffee. If I come back and find him bouncing off the walls, I’m hiring an exorcist.”

Boris was so taken aback, he couldn’t help himself. The thought alone was so ridiculous, but seeing Henry actually try to crack a joke? Utterly too much to comprehend. The wolf howled a laugh right out loud.

And it felt scarily, wonderfully real. 



The Belt

Jason has a belt covered in notches.
This is not a count of his bedmates.
He hangs it by his bed or nearby wherever he sleeps.
He wore the belt when Dick crashed his stakeout at the docks. Blockbuster was the mystery buyer of Black Mask’s new toys. There were more guns than Jay thought.
He knocked Dick out of the sniper’s shot. The bullet nicked the belt and his intestine.
Dick thanked Jay for saving his life. He thanked Jay again after he woke up.
Jason brushed it off. His mouth was too dry for words.
Patrols blended together. Jason stumbled upon Tim going toe to toe with Killer Croc. No weapons left, beaten black and blue with a bloody nose. Tim had lost his comm link after a swim in the sewers. Jason dragged him out and highjacked a car. Alfred was understanding and patched them up.
Then it was Cass and the Mad Hatter.
Steph and Damian and Ivy.
Tim again.
Damian again.
Harper, when she started.
Tam Fox.
Cass dropped by with a birthday card from Alfred. If it weren’t for them, every year, he’d forget the date.
Two more cards came with it.
He hides them in a kitchen drawer, envelopes untouched.
Then Damian dropped by his safe house.
Batman had fired him.
Jason let him curl around a couch pillow and pretend not to cry. He reached out several times, but never touched.
[He thought about how much his family means, now. How they all changed. When did that happen?]
After Damian succumbed, still and silent, Jay got up and dug out the belt from his closet. He grabbed a pocket knife from his jacket, laid the leather on the floor, and nicked it.
One cut for Dick. Another for Tim. Two for Steph, three for Damian. A few more for Kori, for Roy. For the lady he stopped from jumping last week.
When Jason saves a life, he makes a shallow cut in the belt.
When pulls the trigger, hits a leg artery, and doubts himself, he counts every nick until he can go to sleep.
When the belt is but sheds, Alfred gives him a new one for Christmas.

Kidnapped Part 2 - James March Smut - (AHS: Hotel)

part 1 | part 3 | part 4

Requested: yup

     -request:  “Hey babe! Mind doing a part 2 to the Mr. March smut you posted? Maybe they celebrate Devil’s Night so the reader is at the dinner with the famous killers. And then smut after. Thank you in advance. I really love this blog!! You’re amazing!” -anon

Type: smut

Warnings: smut, dom!James

Summary: Despite the fact that you had met him because he had you kidnapped so that he could kill you, you ended up staying with James. He tells you about Devil’s Night, and you ask to come, but he’s against the idea because he wants to protect you. But eventually, with a little convincing, you get him to take you with. (;

Notes: ig you can read it w/out part 1 and it’ll still probably make sense but there’s smut in part 1 too and it’ll probably make more sense if you read part 1 first, it’s linked at the top ((:


The first night you had met James Patrick March, you had been brought to his room to be his next murder victim, but he saw how undeniably beautiful you were and decided to have some fun with you instead. Shockingly, this led to something more than that, and even though it had only been a month or so since that night, you were a fairly “serious” couple. You shared a room in the hotel, a bed, and the two of you definitely did the unmentionable (quite a lot) in said bed.

So one morning, when you awoke, you were surprised to not be in his arms like usual. You rolled over onto your back and felt for him, but the only thing you touched was the cold sheets where he normally slept. Your eyes cracked open, and you frowned slightly as you sat up in the bed, wondering why he wasn’t in it with you. You glanced at the clock on your bedside table, seeing that it was only 7:38 am. You looked the other way and immediately spotted him getting dressed. He was wearing dark brown slacks, and buttoning up a crisp white dress shirt.

“Why are you up so early?” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

He looked up when he heard your soft voice, and a smile immediatly lit up his face when he saw you were awake. “Ah, good morning darling,” he said, coming over to kiss your forehead.

“Very early morning,” you commented, still waiting for him to answer your question.

He chuckled and sat down next to you. “Well, seeing as it’s October 30th–”

“Oh my god, happy birthday!” you said, leaning over to straddle his lap and kiss him, thinking you knew what he meant.

He laughed again, shaking his head. “No no no, not that, I couldn’t care less that it’s been another year since the anniversery of my birth. It’s Devil’s Night,”

You looked at him questioningly, and he went on to explain that it was the night before Halloween, so it was considered a special holiday to people like him and you immediatly understood what he meant. It was a special holiday to killers.

When he was done explaining that there would be a dinner party at the hotel tonight, you asked if you could come with him.

“No. Absolutely not.” he said, standing up from the bed and grabbing his suspenders to put on.

“What? Why not?”

“I don’t want to frighten you with this type of thing, I think it’s better to just keep my work and our relationship seperate.” “But James-”

“No. That’s final.” he said, putting his arms through his blazer.

“Fine, I’ll go out tonight then. At least then I’ll have something to do.”

“No you absolutely will not, Y/N. It’s not safe. On any night but today or tomorrow, that would be fine, but not tonight.” he said firmly.

You rolled your eyes. “Great, so you’re making me stay here alone, with no internet or phone signal, because I apparently can’t go with you to your thing or go out and do my thing. Wow, I’m so excited, I can’t wait to do absolutely nothing. Thanks, dad.” you muttered. James immediatly felt a little guilty for being so controlling. He knew you should be able to do what you want and not be left alone all night, but he had to go to the dinner party, and he most definitely didn’t want you going out anywhere alone on a night like this. He rubbed his hands over his face. “Fine, you can come to the dinner. But there’ll be some dangerous peple there, my love. You have to understand that when I say this-– while we’re there, you must stay by my side the entire night, alright?” “Okay,” you agreed, happy that he was even letting you come with. He wasn’t normally controlling like this, and you thought he was being a bit overdramatic and overprotective, but in a way you kind of liked it. You could tell how much he really cared about you, even if it could be annoying at times. ————————— “James? Are you almost ready? It’s 10 till 6!” you called from across your large bedroom, to James who was on the other side at his dresser. You were standing at your vanity, slipping a pair of diamond earrings into your ears before smoothing out your knee length royal blue dress. He must have been closer than you thought, because you then suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind. “I’m ready whenever you are darling.” he replied, resting his chin on your shoulder. You turned around in his grasp to face him, placing a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “You look positively stunning, Y/N.” He smiled widely and let you out of his arms to retrieve your shoes. You stepped into your black pumps and started towards the door, knowing that James was close behind. You swayed your hips a little bit more than usual as you walked, knowing how amazing this dress made your ass look. Suddenly, you felt a firm smack come down on your rear. “James!” you scolded him with a giggle. He just kissed your cheek innocently in response, as his arm came to rest around your hips. You walked down the main corridor until you came to the elevator. James pushed the button for the first floor, and peppered your neck and cheek with tiny kisses as you waited. Soon enough, you arrived at the main meeting room of the hotel, which had been set up with a large dining room table and a set of twelve chairs, with two at each head and four at the sides. A few guests were already seated, chatting amongst themselves as they waited for the food to come out. “Hello everyone!” James called, drawing their attention to the two of you. As the guests turned around, you could see faces you recognized from the news or old books– Jefferey Dahmer, John Wayne Gacy. Hadn’t they all died years ago? James must have snesed how tense you’d become, because his grip on your waist instantly became tighter as he led you to the head of the table and pulled out your chair.

Both of you took your seats, and you could feel him scooting his chair closer to yours, and then placing one hand protectively on your thigh. You knew it was just meant to be reassuring and protective, but you couldn’t deny the fact that it was turning you on. As everyone began eating and talking, you felt his hand slowly inch higher up your thigh. You clenched your thighs together, trying to relieve yourself from the small bit of arousal that you were feeling. James must have felt you doing so, because his hand immediately crept higher and rested on your clothed clit. You let out a small moan by accident, and you felt a few pairs of eyes looking at you questioningly. Your cheeks flushed bright red, and you could hear James laughing quietly next to you. “Uh, you alright Y/N?” One of the guests asked, her expression a mix between surprise and confusion. “Oh, um, y-yeah, I’m just not feeling too well.” you responded quickly. James immediately followed up what you said by adding in, “I should probably take Y/N upstairs to rest since she’s not feeling well. Goodnight everyone!” he stood up and pushed his chair in before holding a hand out for you. You gladly took it and followed him out of the room. As soon as the two of you were in the elevator, he shoved you up against the wall and smashed his lips against yours. You groaned into his mouth and one of his hands slipped in between your legs and under your dress, so that he could start teasingly rubbing your clit through your panties. Soon enough, the elevator door opened and James took this as his cue to pick you up bridal style and carry you to the room. He quickly unlocked the door and then pushed it open and set you down. “Y/N, go to our bed, I want you naked and waiting for me by the time I come in, do you understand?” You nodded your head, but apparently that wasn’t enough, because he added, “Use your words.” “Yes, I understand.” you corrected yourself, and then practically ran to your bedroom in excitement. You could tell he was feeling extremely dominant tonight, and that was the best kind of sex in your opinion, apart from angry sex. Once you got to your room, you quickly pulled off your clothes and laid back on the bed, with your left leg bent and your right leg extended flat. You could feel how wet you were getting, so you let one hand slowly slip between tour thighs and lazily rub over your pussy. James came in about two minutes later, still partially dressed, but now without his shoes, suspenders, and shirt. You looked up at him and bit back a smile– he was so perfect. And he was all yours. He didn’t join you on the bed, instead he said, “Come here,” and began to unbutton his pants. Your stomach did flips as you realized what he wanted you to do. Once his pants were off, and you were standing in front of him, he kissed you quickly before pulling away and saying, “On your knees.” You did what he said, and patiently waited as he shoved his boxers down. His erection stood straight up, flushed at the head and already decorated with a single drop of precum. You looked up at him, almost or permission. before taking him in your hand and kitten licking his tip. James threw his head back at the feeling, and wove his fingers through your hair once you took him in your mouth. You couldn’t fit all of him in because of his length, so you pumped the part that you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your hand. “Oh, god,” he groaned as you started bobbing your head up and down his cock. This was always one of your favorite parts of sex with James– sure, you loved it that he was always dominant with you, but when you were giving him a blowjob was the one time you had complete control over him. His hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth, making you gag a little bit. “Stop.” You pulled away, looking up at him expectantly. “Come here darling, I want you to lay back and relax.” he said, leading you to the bed. You laid back, your stomach bubbling in anticipation of what was about to happen. James climbed on top of you, making sure to hold his weight on his knees and elbows so as not to hurt you, and reached one hand down to feel how wet you were. “Mm, so wet and I’ve barely touched you yet.” he commented, continuing to rub his fingers over your clit and almost inside of you. “Please,” you whimpered. You’d had enough of this teasing, right now you just wanted him to fuck you. “Please what, love?” “Please fuck me, I need you,” you groaned, placing your arms around his back. He smirked at your words before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into you slowly. Once you let out a moan of approval, he started thrusting in and out of you, occasionally leaving kisses on your neck and jaw. And hickeys– can’t forget about those; James almost always gave you hickeys when you were in the bedroom, marking you as his and only his. “Ohhh,” you moaned as his hand came in contact with your clit, rubbing hard but slow circles as he continued fucking you. “Fuck, James.” He usually wasnt very loud in bed, focusing mainly on your pleasure while he fucked you, but this time he let out loud, breathy moans of your name. “God I’m so close,” your warned him. He started rubbing your clit faster in response. “Good girl. You going to come for me, Y/N? Come all over my cock?” His dirty talking must have set you off, because as soon as he finished that sentence, you orgasmed. You pushed your hips up and let out a long moan, letting him know you’d come. You could tell he was close, so you gently kissed his neck and collarbones, hoping that the small gesture would help him get to his orgasm faster. Sure enough, just a few seconds later, you felt him still inside you, and then hot spurts of his cum filling you up. “Fuck,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss you properly. You tightened your grip around his neck, pulling him closer to you and opening your mouth to let him kiss you deeper. He smiled into the kiss, quietly saying, “I love you.” He’d said it before, on the first day you met, but never since then. You figured he had realized that you couldn’t be in love with someone the first time you met them, and that he either didn’t love you yet, or was just waiting for the right time before he said it. But as soon as the words left his mouth, you felt your stomach doing flips. “I love you more James.”

I hope this is sorta what you had in mind when you requested this? If anyone wants a third part I can do that too lol, I’ll keep this going as long as you guys want me to. If anyone has any other requests, for anyone from AHS, send me an ask telling me who you want it with, if you want smut or fluff, and a brief storyline! xx -l


freedomhasnoexception  asked:

What is Codot-verse Doctor Crane's hygiene like? His overall grooming and shower regimen and whatnot. I hope this ain't a terribly strange question, but I'm asking because I've seen many varying interpretations and headcanons of this, ranging from sparkly clean to only showering once every four years.

Jonathan Crane has learned one thing through his years of testing: Unclean/Unsanitary testing conditions lead to unsatisfactory and inconsistent results.

While not being the most… orderly of youths (in more than one way), Jonathan quickly learned that keeping clean and organised yielded better outcomes and results in his work. Ablutions quickly became a part of Jonathan’s routine. His laboratory is immaculate, and Jonathan himself is incredibly clean. His office is dusty, but there’s no testing being done there and Jonathan doesn’t allow Arkham cleaning staff into his office. It will almost always fail the White Glove Test.

Now Jonathan lives his life by a schedule. He shaves every morning. His dirty clothes are picked up every Sunday at 8:00am, and are returned clean and folded by noon. His hair is trimmed on the first day of every month - a pompadour that is slicked back in the morning and is always hanging in front of his face by noon (sometimes hair just doesn’t stay where you want - Edward has suggested product, but that’s beyond Jonathan’s realm of understanding/interest).

Contrary to the general fantasies floating about the good Doctor’s underthings, Jonathan wears white socks, white Y-Fronts, and a white undershirt. His business shirts are white, and his slacks are brown. He has one black suit which is kept pressed and in a suit bag hanging in his closet. He has five ties - one for each work day; five different shades of black (don’t ask - they all look the same to everyone else except Jon and Edward).

On his off days, Jon wears jeans and flannel or cotton shirts.

Side Note: I may have mentioned this before, but Jonathan has an allergy to synthetic fibres, and only wears 100% cotton clothing. Anything else will cause him to itch and develop rashes.

Should any of these habits become subject to change, one is encouraged to ensure Jonathan is still taking his medication and is not talking to ‘himself’. Otherwise, notify Arkham officials or Batman himself.

Tumbleweed, Her #4 - [BAP] Mafia!Au

[A/N] I wish I could wake up with amnesia, but then I don’t want to forget about you and that pretty smile you have. Dear reader, will you smile for me today?

Originally posted by mauloveskpop

The Private Investigator: Jung Daehyun

He had always been watching. He did nothing more than that. He knew everything about you. Your daily schedules, to the place you frequent to, to the habits you have that you don’t necessarily realise having it. Daehyun knows what you liked and disliked. Daehyun knows you to the core. And you don’t necessarily know that. How far did he know?

He knows why you take the bus in daylight. He knows you take the same bus but don’t really go anywhere. You went to the train station but never got on any of it. You went back when people starts to pour in to make it look like you go home from work. Daehyun was always on the watch. He had his binoculars on him to spy on you. And he spoke to himself a lot, “Where are you heading? Why do you always do this.” And his questions were never answered.

He looked through the binoculars at you. When he first started as a private investigator, he had to overcome a lot of shortcomings. He was a tad too inexperienced in his field and he learnt the hard way that experiences truly helps in getting his name in the industry. His egotistical demeanor tend to get him in a lot of trouble but he paved his own style of investigation and a few police station had come to mimick his strategy. He didn’t necessary hates it. It just shows how the authority is lack creativity. But what he didn’t like, is when they took credit for what he did.

Keep reading

Clothes worn by the victims
  1. Rachel Scott
  2. Daniel Rohrbough
  3. Kyle Velasquez - Blue and green coat over a white shirt, black pants, and black athletic shoes.
  4. Steven Curnow - Short sleeve blue shirt, blue jeans, white socks and brown and black boots.
  5. Cassie Bernall - Green, short sleeve shirt over a black shirt, light blue jeans, white socks and black boots ( Velvet Doc Martens).
  6. Isaiah Shoels - Short black sleeved shirt, green slacks, and white socks with white athletic shoes.
  7. Matt Kechter - Gray long sleeved shirt, blue jeans, white athletic shoes, white socks, and a ball cap with the letter “M”.
  8. Lauren Townsend - Blue top, denim pants and dark boots.
  9. John Tomlin - Dark T-shirt, denim pants and white/black tennis shoes.
  10. Kelly Fleming - Black shirt, denim pants and white/black tennis shoes.
  11. Daniel Mauser - Tan shirt, denim pants, and grey/black tennis shoes.
  12. Corey DePooter - Gray shirt, denim pants and brown leather boots.
  13. Dave Sanders - Blue and white dress shirt, T-shirt, gray slacks and brown shoes.

( Taken from the 11k pages 11240 to 12502. Couldn’t find the reports for the first two victims since they were located outside :/ )

Title: Coffee Date

Anonymous requested: Hello I saw you opened the request, could you do something super fluffly with max please?

Character(s): Max and Reader
Summary: Since Max wasn’t going to make the first move, you take him by surprise and ask him out for coffee.
Word Count: 1,509
Warning: None.
Author’s Note: THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING MAX!!! He’s my bby so any type of fluff, I will take and give to him lol. I wanted to change it up and instead of Max going in and asking, I wanted the Reader to take initiative. So, I hope this suffices for the anon who requested this and I hope you enjoy as well! :-)

(GIF Source: @heartfulloffandoms)

Since starting your new job in New York, you were struggling to find an apartment before the new school year. So, when you stumbled upon Max’s apartment complex, you weren’t expecting a beautiful apartment with an even more beautiful view to be affordable. You certainly weren’t expecting your landlord to be extremely handsome as well.

Now that you settled into your new apartment and the school year had begun, you were waiting for Max to make his move. The two of you spent almost every night together by having dinner and a glass of wine. He helped you cook, but there were some nights where he brought the food. Regardless, you had grown feelings for him and you tried to leave him subtle hints to let him know that you liked him. But, he never said anything. He never asked you out. Instead, the dinners simply continued as if it was just two friends hanging out.

Today that was going to change. Working as an English professor at a nearby community college allowed you to have certain days off for national holidays. With Labor Day fast approaching, you took this opportunity to ask Max out. If he wasn’t going to do it, then you would take a risk and ask him out yourself.

Keep reading

sketch-owl  asked:

What does your Jervis look like exactly? Is he short like in the Arkham games or is he tall like early on in the animated series?

Oh Jervis, you would be so adorable if you weren’t trying to bend my mind to your will.

Jervis is a staggering 5’5” in the Codotverse, but given that he perpetually slouches, it’s more like 5’2”. This is, of course, without his High Topper on (adorned with a £359.00 price tag and a pair of goggles). His clothes are were at one point nice, but despite coming from a family with money, Jervis rarely buys new outfits, insisting on fixing and patching what he’s already got on. They don’t look bad, but they have certainly been ‘lived in’. 

A navy cashmere duster with the collar flipped up obscures a great deal of Jervis’ attire – his billowy dress shirt (with another upturned collar which, with the coat and hat, hides Jervis’ face almost entirely) held in by his waistcoat, his brown slacks, even the riding boots in which his pants are tucked are barely visible. He still wears an insanely large bowtie around his neck, but after years of being mocked for it, he tucks it into the top of his waistcoat, making it appear more as an ascot than a foppish bow.

His waistcoat is adorned with a variety of tools needed for the constant upgrades and repairs to his technology. His gloves are fingerless, so as to be able to have maximum dexterity (and when you’re soldering a circuit board while running – you NEED dexterity).

Appearance-wise, Jervis has blue eyes hidden under a mess of blond hair. His teeth are straight as tombstones (and according to Joker, just as large). The teeth tend to take away from his nose, which he thinks is far too large, but it balances everything out (think Liam Neeson, but on a 5’5” Tetch, not a 6’4” Neeson). He’s not an ugly man, but he lacks charisma, so obsessive staring and a horrible stutter around people he finds attractive doesn’t add much charm. Also, bending people to his will through his various gadgets doesn’t help.

He still has an obsession with Alice in Wonderland, carrying a pocket-sized version of the book in his coat at all times. His username at WayneTek was M4DH4TT3R (Edward’s was 3NIGM4. They didn’t even plan that, they’re as bad as each other for trying to look ‘cool’. Bruce is no winner either - he went for WayneTek over WayneTech because he thought it would appeal to a younger demographic. This will be discussed more later, as we’re drifting into origin stories).

cartoonbooknerd  asked:

What about. Bughead prompt how Betty is taking a photography class and uses Jughead as a model. Gets him dressed like young Leo from the Titanic and the whole school goes nuts and fangirls

Thank you so much, I loved this idea!

“Betty, c’mon, I don’t really think this is a good idea,” Jughead whined from where he stood in front of the pile of clothes his girlfriend had left on a wooden stool in the middle of the Blue and Gold office. He poked the offending material gently with his index finger, looking up to meet her eyes, eyebrows knit apprehensively.

“Jug, you said you’d help me with this photography course - whatever I needed, remember?” she returned, crossing her arms across her chest in defiance, a knowing glint in her eye. She knew she’d get her way, and he did too. It wouldn’t stop him from putting up a fight though.

“Yeah, I know, but this?” He picked up the light brown slacks. “It’s not really me.” They fell back to the stool. She sighed, walking over to him to straighten them out before they creased.

“You’re not supposed to be you, Jughead, you’re just my subject.” When his face remained stoic she switched tactics. “Besides, I think you’re going to look great in these, you can ever wear your own suspenders.” She crept closer to him, grabbing the elastic that hung at his hips and pulling at it slightly, letting it snap back against his thigh. Jughead took in an unsteady breath. “If you do this for me, I’ll be in your debt,” she finished, looking up at him from beneath thick, dark eyelashes. He groaned internally - she wasn’t playing fair.

“Fine, but you own me, Cooper. Big time,” he snarked, leaning down to capture her lips before reluctantly grabbing the pile of clothes and going to change.

Betty busied herself arranging the stool in front of the blue screen she’d borrowed from the yearbook department, fussing over the exact position and moving the box lights to get exactly the right shadow. She heard the door click and turned to greet Jughead, breath leaving her in a gasp.

“I look ridiculous.” Betty couldn’t think of anything less true, even if her brain was functioning at full capacity right now. Jughead stood in the doorway, shoulders hunched slightly in discomfort. The brown slacks hung off his hips perfectly, white dress shirt tucked in with the top buttons undone and showing off a hint of smooth chest beneath. His suspenders were now perched on his shoulders and, best of all, his hair hung teasingly over his eyes, beanie long gone. “Betts?” he questioned when she still hadn’t said anything.

“Err… I… y-you look good, Juggie,” she stuttered, hoping that the blush on her cheeks wasn’t as hot as it felt to her. Seriously, did they turn off the AC in here? Jughead relaxed slightly at her new dumbfound expression, feeling a rare manly pride that he would never get used to as it happened only in the presence of Betty.

“Thanks. Where do you want me?” A million inappropriate answers flew through Betty’s head before she cleared her throat, pointing to the stool. He sat, awkwardly at first before Betty ran her fingers deliciously through his hair, eliciting an appreciative hum.

“Just do what feels natural,” she said, taking a step back to admire his pose, one leg up on the bar of the stool, chin resting in his hand.

“Nothing about this is natural,” he retorted, tell-tale smile in his eyes nonetheless. Betty rolled her eyes at his stubbornness.

“Oh, hush.” She raised the lens to her eye before lowering it again. “One second.” She moved toward him, reaching forward to undo another button on his shirt. “Much better,” she giggled. Jughead smirked, a laugh escaping him. He loved seeing Betty like this, playful and carefree. If he had to pose in some ridiculous outfit for a few hours, who was he to complain when he got to see that glow radiating from her cheeks.


“I know you aren’t gonna like it but those pictures of you are some of my favourites and I’m actually really proud of them and-” Jughead silenced her fretting with a kiss.

“It’s ok, Betts. So what if I have to be displayed before our neanderthal peers for a day or two. I don’t mind if it’s what you want,” he murmured, feeling a warmth spread throughout his chest at her responding soft smile. Betty had been asked to create a display as part of the photography course, to be put up in the hallway of none other than their beloved Riverdale High. Jughead pulled his beanie further down on his head and averted his gaze to the ground, preparing to make his way through the mocking whispers and get to class as quickly as possible.

As he expected there were eyes turning to him from all angles as he made his way to class, whispers reaching his ears in a dull buzzing hum.

“Hi, Jughead.” He turned to the unexpected party.

“Err, hi, Ethel,” he said warily, eyes darting towards Betty for explanation. She just shrugged.

“I just wanted to tell you those pictures of you are so great. You look… really cool,” she finished, cheeks turning pink. Betty tried to turn her giggle into a cough unsuccessfully, Jughead shoving an elbow delicately into her ribs.

“Um, thanks, I guess?” he replied lamely.

“No problem!” Ethel replied chirpily, turning to walk down the hall. Betty’s laugh came out full force now they were alone.

“Looks like someone has taken on the role as Riverdale High’s new teen heart-throb,” she laughed, eyes gleaming with mischief. Jughead groaned.

“This is all your fault, Cooper,” he mumbled. She kissed his cheek, causing him to roll his eyes. He couldn’t stay mad at her for long.

“Hey there, Jughead!” The voice came from behind them. They turned to see none other than Ginger Lopez hurtling towards them. “Great pictures! Who knew beneath all that doom and gloom you cleaned up into a hottie. Very young Leo,” she winked. Jughead felt Betty stiffen besides him - she’d never cared for Ginger much. His eyes went wide as he watched Ginger raise her arm, hand coming to rest on his jacket sleeve, a giggle escaping her lips. “Hey, what do you say we-” Her sentence was cut off abruptly.

“Juggie, we’re going to be late to class. Nice seeing you, Ginger.” Betty’s voice dripped with sugary sweet pleasantness. Jughead bit his lip as Betty leaned into his side, wrapping a hand round his arm. He followed her, casting one last glance at a bewildered Ginger before turning to his girlfriend. He could practically see the steam coming out of her ears.

“So, about this new teen heart-throb status…” he began, unable to resist teasing her more. She narrowed her eyes at him, the uptilted corners of her lips giving her away.

“Shut up, Jughead.”

Sweet Surrender, Sweet Forgiveness

prompt: “No More Sweet Surrender” by Caitlin Crews
pairings: destiel, background sam/eileen, past sam/ruby
word count: 24k
tags: no warnings apply, celebrity au, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, psychiatrist dean, actor cas, meddling ketch, minor character death, past drug abuse and abusive relationship, mutual pining, love confessions

huge thanks to @adoringjensen for her cheerleading and support

“Look, I’m not saying Nowak is absolutely without a doubt an aggressive brute. I’ve said several times that I don’t know him personally. But his story, his reputation, it’s all there. Immigrant kid learns to fight and gets a silver medal for it: we rewarded his desire to beat other guys up, and now he’s a household name with posters for his movies all over town. Putting men like that on pedestals is caveman worship.”

“And that’s the title of your book, Dr. Winchester?”

“Yes ma’am. The text includes my scholarly research on domestic partner violence and other forms of violence we see as a result of idolizing, well, Neanderthals.”

The clip ends and reverts back to the smiling, plastic faces of the hosts.

“There you have it folks! If you’re just tuning in, that was a clip of yesterday’s interview with Dr. Dean Winchester, a psychiatrist whose book is compelling and will make you question everything you know about hero worship. Mari, what’s your take—”

“What a disgusting display. Honestly, you’d think he gets off on emasculating other men. Can’t imagine why.”

Keep reading

It's You •Part 3• (Soulmate AU Newt Scamander x Reader)

It had been one month since the night your tattoo appeared, and you had made no progress in regaining the lost memories of Newt. He spent days at a time in the case working on different concoctions. You felt bad each time they failed, the excitement draining from his face as he stumbled back down to his case.

Queenie spent a lot of time with you, showing you around the city and keeping you busy. The last thing she wanted was for you to leave Newt behind.

“What do you want to do today, honey?” Queenie asked as you, Tina, Jacob and Newt sat around the kitchen table for breakfast. It was rare that you would all be together, but the sisters had insisted that everyone take a break for a fun breakfast.

“I…” you trailed off as you felt Newt’s eyes on you. He had barely spoken to you since you started staying at the apartment, and to be frank, he was rather intimidating. “I was actually thinking about going to the park-”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Queenie exclaimed with a bright smile. “We could all go!”

“By myself,” you finished before taking a sip of your water. Queenie looked at you with a confused look, and you knew that she was reading Newt’s thoughts as her eyes drifted to him.

“You can’t do that,” Newt spoke up as he pushed his plate away from him.

“Why not?” You fired back, crossing your arms as you turned to face him. “Tina has to work, Jacob and Queenie have barely spent any time together lately, and you…”

“What about me?” He questioned, eyebrows raising as his eyes darkened.

“You intimidate me!” You blurted out before your eyes went wide from embarrassment. You watched Newt’s face begin to turn red, but you couldn’t tell if he was mad or upset with you. “I’m so sorry, I know that we’re soulmates, but you are very intimidating to me! Newt, please don’t leave!”

You began to apologize profusely as he threw his napkin off his lap and onto the table, shoving his chair back before quickly leaving the room. You felt awful for chasing him away, especially since you knew how deep his feelings for you were.

“Go after him, honey,” Queenie urged you as she placed a hand on your shoulder. “He’s not upset with you, I promise. In fact, he’s upset with himself.”

You nodded quickly before pushing your chair away from the table and chasing after him. You knew that he had gone down to the case, for it was the one place he truly felt safe. You attempted to be quiet as you climbed down the ladder and entered the small hut; Newt was nowhere in sight. You let out a sigh and ventured out of the hut, wrapping your arms around yourself as the air became cold.

“N-Newt?” You called out as you saw him sitting in a chair by the empty enclosure where Frank used to be. He didn’t respond, so you walked over to him, standing beside him for a few moments before going to speak. “I’m really sorry, Newt. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

“I know,” he said in a quiet voice. He had his hands folded on his lap, his blue coat hanging from his body over his white button up shirt and dark brown slacks. You shivered slightly as the cold breeze seemed to slice through to your core, and you saw his head perk up. “Merlin, you must be freezing.”

“I-I’m fine,” you stammered out, teeth chattering as he stood up and began to take off his coat. “Newt, keep it on, please. I don’t want you to get cold.”

“You’re practically blue, Y/N,” he breathed out, concern laced through his voice. He placed the coat around your shoulders and pulled you into his side before leading you back to the hut.

“Why is it so cold?” You asked as he ushered you into the hut and closed the door. He worked to make sure that the fireplace had enough wood before he mumbled out a quick spell that started the fire.

“There’s these flowers I’m growing that seem to have changed the climate a bit,” he explained, pointing to a drawing that was hanging over his desk. You glanced over to see his sketch of beautiful, blue and purple flowers; words were scribbled around the sketch, but you turned to him instead of reading them.

“Why do you have them if they’re turning the case into an icebox?”

“They’re supposed to help with memory,” he told you, his eyes meeting yours as he smiled softly. He quickly glanced at one of your hands, his smile immediately dropping as he rushed over to you frantically. “Your hand must have brushed against the bush.”

“This isn’t good,” you stated shakily as he took your hand in his. Your skin was beginning to turn blue, and the color was spreading up your arm in the shape of veins. “Newt, I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Definitely not good,” he said as you began to sway. He carefully led you to the bed that was shoved off to one side before racing over to his desk to make you an antidote. “This happened to me just a few days ago, Y/N, I promise that you’re going to be fine.”

“I don’t want you t-to hurt yourself over this,” you replied, laying down in the bed and covering yourself in his blankets. You inhaled deeply, allowing the smell of honey, cinnamon, and pine to cloud your mind.

“This is almost ready for you to drink,” he announced, throwing in a few more ingredients before straining the dark green liquid into a cup. He walked carefully over to you, cup in hand as he went to sit on the bed beside you. “Sit up, love.”

“Does it taste bad?” You asked as you sat up slowly. Newt held the cup up to your lips and shook his head as you began to drink. You nearly gagged at the taste and rushed to finish it. “You’re such a liar.”

“I got you to drink it, though,” he pointed out as he set the cup onto the chair beside the bed. He took your hand in his and inspected the area that brushed against the bush, the blue already beginning to fade. “You’re going to be cold for a bit, but that should be it.”

“Can I stay here until I get warm? I promise to be quiet if you have to work on anything,” you rushed out as you felt the grip his hand had on yours loosen. You couldn’t understand it, but something about his presence made you feel so safe. “If you don’t have to work on anything, we could just talk… or I could go, I completely get it if you don’t want me-”

“We can talk,” he cut you off with a lopsided grin. His green eyes were full of adoration as they met yours, and you felt your heart stutter. “You should probably lay down and stay under the covers, I can move to the chair.”

“Wait,” you began, grabbing onto his hand as he went to leave the bed. “Body heat is the best way to get warm.”


“That came out weird,” you mumbled, wincing from embarrassment. “What I meant was that you can lay with me; body heat helps with warming up.”

“Okay,” he gave in. He kicked off his shoes and got into the bed, crawling under the covers before facing you. The bed was small and your bodies were pressed together, but you didn’t mind.

“I know that we don’t- that I don’t really know you that well, but I’m glad that you’re my soulmate,” you admitted. Newt scrunched his eyes shut and breathed shakily, one of his hands pressing against his forehead as he attempted to stop the room from spinning.

“I’m glad that you’re my soulmate, too,” he choked out in a tight voice. He felt your hand rest against his cheek and his eyes fluttered open. “I know that you may never remember our lives together, but I can learn to accept that.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, inching closer to him. You hesitantly leaned foward and brushed your lips against his. He responded with ease, his lips moving with yours in such a way that it made the both of you never want to stop. He rolled over so that he was hovering over you, his lips still moving with yours.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he breathed out as he pulled his lips away from yours and moved to your neck.

“Please don’t stop,” you gasped. He easily slipped you out of his coat that was still wrapped around your body and threw it across the room. You unbuttoned his shirt and ran your fingers along his toned chest. Newt discarded the shirt, throwing it over with the jacket before leaning down to press his mouth against yours.

“I love you,” he professed into the kiss. He pulled back, cupping one of your cheeks in his hand. “You don’t have to say it back, I just need you to know.”

“I love you, Newt,” you told him honestly. “I feel it in my soul, I love you so much.”

Your head began to ache and you gently placed a hand on his arm, pushing him off of your body so you could sit up. You cradled your head in your hands as the throbbing became more intense, and you felt his arms wrap around you.

“What’s wrong?”

“My head,” you groaned. There was another wave of pain before it went away and you moved your hands to look at Newt. “It’s gone.”

“That fast?” He questioned with suspicion. You started to say something, but then your body went limp, eyes rolling back into your head as you collapsed into his arms. “Y/N? Y/N, wake up!”

Newt was at a loss with what to do. He gently held you in his arms, shaking you slightly to check for any reaction. When there was none, he made sure that your pulse and breathing were stable before getting out of the bed to look around for something to wake you up. He wasn’t out of the bed for more than five minutes when he heard you let out a loud gasp as you shot up in the bed.

“I remember!” You exclaimed as he raced over to your side. You cupped his cheeks in your hands and placed a tender kiss to his lips. “I remember everything!”

“Y-You do?” He stammered out, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know how, but I do,” you said with a smile. He pulled you into his arms, allowing a small sob to escape as he pressed his lips to the top of your head. “Newt, don’t cry, I’m fine.”

“I’m crying because I’m happy,” he sniffled. “Happier than I have been for a while.”

Tag List:

@astrangeevent02@sharon6713 @tequilavet@rosa-kirk @aesthetic-gem @can-a-girlsie-chime-in
Hot Mess (Jackson Drabble)

Originally posted by thekpopquartet

Requested by @brilliantbellesoares

Take part in the 600 followers Drabble game here

#46.  “I’m in love…shit”

Author’s Note: I couldn’t find a good gif so this is what I went with sorry lol

Word Count: 1535

Keep reading

pose for me: clexa oneshot

Clarke is an art student taking a sketching course, but she’s having trouble drawing portraits for her assignment. She hangs up flyers around campus for a model and Lexa responds. 

disclaimer: sup kids, this is my first venture into fic writing, probably writing in general i guess. i’ve only ever written like 3 or 4 scripts for class so ,,,hope this is decent. i’m kinda used to just writing action and dialogue (in my small handful of works lol) as it happens so like backstory is weird to me idk. anyway, if it seems rushed and rough, it probably is. i definitely didn’t reread it! but uh, let me know what ya think i guess. maybe any tips, things i can change in my writing.  


“Please stop.”

“Come on, he’s pretty hot.”

“He’s not.”

“Really great in bed, though.”


“He did this one move the other night I’ve never done before and it felt amazing.”

“I swear to God, I will throw up on you.”

Keep reading

Fantasy vs. Reality (E2 Barry Allen x Reader)

Originally posted by fyeahgrantgust

Part One

Requested by: anonymous “Hi! I really love your imagines, you’re a really good writer! I was wondering if you could write one involving Barry from Earth 2? It could be about anything, but pls involve him! Love ya 😜”

Word Count: 1544

Author’s Note: So, I’m writing this the day before school starts back up so you’re welcome;) anyways, my new laptop won’t be coming in until next week so uploads will be slow until then!!:// I’m so sorry guys but please stick with me and I will be writing a ton of imagines:) IMPORTANT!!!!: If you sent a request, thank you SO much for your patience. I know it’s been a while but I will get them done:)) I love you guys.

(a/n: this entire imagine takes place in earth two where Barry is a CSI technician that has no Flash powers)

Do you ever wonder who you will marry in the future? Or just who you will date in hopes of having a future with that person? Do you have a specific type in mind?

You know, the usual proper gentleman who’s kind and funny and handsome? Or the mysterious one who doesn’t give a crap but somehow, you believe that he could be the one?

Everyone always has a type. Everyone always has an expectation. Whether it be the perfect guy or just one that has the basic manners down. No one expects to love a person who they don’t see a happily ever after with. 

But, the universe is famous for screwing with our expectations in life. Especially when it concerns our love life.

“Mom, I’m sorry, but I really can’t come right now!” you whisper-yelled into the phone that was squished between your ear and your neck as you frantically signed papers in hopes to get to your business meeting on time. 

You would put her on speaker, but the last time you did that, she started to yell at you, allowing everyone within hearing distance in your office become aware of your conversation. The same one that you were having now and had been having for a month now.

“Y/N, please. I think it would be a great opportunity, not only for your firm, but for us as well! We could use that smart lawyer brain of yours,” your mom persuaded. 

For the past month, she had been trying to get the law firm that you worked at to come and partner with the CCPD, where she worked at as a detective.  You weren’t one of the founders of the firm, but your mom knew that you had a big effect on what goes on around at the work place because of your high position. 

You didn’t like the idea, because although that would mean more cases, they weren’t exactly the best cases. In Central City, metahumans run around amok the citizens. They make chaos and spread fear. In some situations, they even murder innocent bystanders. 

Now, what jury would declare a wreaking metahuman not guilty? No matter how good the lawyer is, a metahuman will always be considered guilty. That would be a waste of money and resources for the firm. You would be better off with lawsuits that people make when their insurance company doesn’t live up to their promise.

If you didn’t support the idea, you, the top lawyer in your firm, then how would your bosses?  However, your mother really needed the lawyers. The police didn’t always work with metas, but for the same reason as you, many law firms withdrew their contract with the CCPD.

“Y/N, just come over to the department and take a look. You haven’t even given it a try yet. Please? For your mom?” your mom asked over the phone. You put down your pen and reached for your phone, straightening out your neck. 

You sighed, giving in. “Alright, Mom. I’ll do it. It’s only a look, okay? I can’t guarantee anything.” After all that your mom has done for you, it was the least that you could do. 

“Yes! Thanks, honey. The police department and the citizens of Central City really appreciate that,” she said. You smiled into the phone.

“Ha. Ha. I’m sure they do. I’ll see you soon then?” you asked.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. Okay, bye, honey.”

“Bye, Mom,” you responded in a sing-song voice. You smiled as you put the phone back into the receiver. Moms.

“Y/N, you made it,” your mom greeted as the elevator door opened. 

“Yeah, I did. What did you want to show me?” you asked smiling. The place was bustling with officers, people walking and holding coffee in their hands, others clicking on their computers who were deep in thought, creases lining their foreheads.

“Oh right, we received this new case about a meta stealing diamonds for money in order to feed his family. It’s really a heartbreaking case. I thought that this would be an interesting one to show you,” your mom informed you.

You nodded, pleasantly surprised. “Okay, let’s see it.”

“Let me go find the case file,” she said, obviously excited that you were on board. “Where’s Detective West?” your mom asked, mumbling to herself as she scanned the surroundings. She stopped another officer that was walking by.

“Have you seen West?” your mom asked. The officer pointed vaguely upstairs to the many rooms.

‘Wow, how informative,’ you thought.

Your mom nodded, however, like she knew exactly where Detective West would be in all of the rooms upstairs. 

“C’mon,” your mom instructed, grabbing your arm. “West knows all of the details. He can fill you in.”

You two walked upstairs, entering a room with two metal double doors. In the corner were two guys who were hunched over something, whispering lightly.

Your mom cleared her throat which made the two men stand up, looking at the two of you.

One of them was a slightly familiar older man with scruff who was obviously the Detective West as he had a gold star badge clipped onto his belt strap next to a gun in a holster. 

You looked at him for a moment. He had been your mother’s police partner for as long as you could remember. You’ve heard stories of him, but you had only met him once and were too young to remember much of anything about Detective West.

The other guy, however, was young. Maybe around your age. He had dark brown hair with round glasses and wore a bowtie, a vest, and brown slacks. You raised an eyebrow slightly in amusement. Now that was an different look.

He was just the whole package deal, wasn’t he?

“Oh, hey, Y/L/N,” Detective West greeted, directing his words at your mom, “Did you need me?” he asked.

Then he looked at you. A moment later, a smile erupted for his face. “My goodness, Y/N. Look at you! You have grown so much,” he said. 

He left his previous post and came up to you with arms spread open. You awkwardly went in for the hug and smiled, putting on your best face. That one face you put on when you met new people.

“Hi, Detective West. It’s nice to see you again,” you said with a smiling face. You remembered to put in the ‘again’ seeing as you didn’t recall meeting him, but you knew that you had in the past.

“Oh, just call me Joe.” He chuckled and patted you on the back before facing your mother again.

“I was wondering if we could show Y/N that case that we’d been working on. I asked her if she could help us,” your mom explained.

Joe looked at her before glancing at you and back to her again. “Yeah, yeah. It’s locked in the evidence room, though.”

Your mom nodded understandingly and looked at you. “Can you wait here? Only restricted personnel are allowed in Evidence.”

You nodded, not having a problem about it. Joe and your mom left the room to go find the case, leaving you with the guy who was still in the corner of the lab.

You faced him, catching him looking at you before he veered his eyes away. You walked up to the table where he was sitting at, behind a microscope and many other different samples with a soft smile on your lips.

“Hey, I’m Y/N,” you greeted, extending a hand.

The guy looked at you shock, like it was a miracle that you were walking to him. He looked at you for a second before shaking your hand timidly.

“M-my name is Barry,” he said. 

You smiled a little wider even though you wanted to leave the room. He was making the air in it very awkward.

“Hi, Barry. So, what’re you doing?” you asked, nodding towards the microscope. It wouldn’t take that long to get one file, right? Might as well make some conversation.

Barry looked at the microscope like he didn’t even know that it was in front of him in the first place. 

“Oh, uh, I-I’m just…It’s a piece of evidence that was, uh, discovered at a crime scene,” he stuttered. You glanced at his work. To be honest, it seemed kind of interesting and different. It intrigued you. The science part always seemed to capture your attention whenever you worked with these sort of cases.

“Oh, really? That looks cool,” you said with a hint of excitement to your voice.

Barry grinned at you. “You think? I mean, I do too-like-it is, you know, super cool, but-” 

You smiled at his frantic rambling. At first, admittedly, you thought it was weird, but after talking to him for a bit, you thought it was cute. Like a cute quirk that he had. 

He wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

Just then your mom appeared at the doorway, waving a manila folder in the air.

“Y/N, honey, come on. We found the file,” you mom said. She glanced over at Barry with a secret look and waved you over before disappearing again.

You glanced back at Barry who was still smiling at you behind those round glasses.

“See you later, Barry.” You waved before walking out of the lab. 

For some reason, deep in your gut, something told you that you would see him again. And that gave you an uneasy, but good, lingering feeling.

Little did you know, that this small encounter would lead to something so much more than just an exchange of smiles in the middle of a lab.


Author’s Note: So, someone requested this and I was just writing and I decided to turn it into a series;) thanks to whoever sent this! I think it’ll turn out really well:))

Also, I know that Iris is the detective in Earth Two, but I just really like Joe as the officer lol :) and Iris and Barry are obviously not married in this imagine fyi

[Text: Anonymous said:

Weird question: Are the versions of the Star Fox characters in the web animation, “A Fox in Space” more or less furbaity? This thought haunts my dreams.]

Well this is a variation of the standard question, as it builds upon our general acceptance of the official Star Fox cast being Base Line Furbait (Now to be called BLF) Now, is the interpretation of the cast as seen in A Fox In Space, the animated show being created by Matthew Gafford, higher or lower on the furbait scale than our BLF crew?

Before we continue, if you have not seen Episode One of A Fox In Space, I implore you to take 15 minutes to get comfy, watch the video, give a like and a comment, then we will continue.

OK, we all on the same page? Excellent!

I am going to have to say that with the exception of Wolf O'Donnell, the answer is no. The art style is wonderfully unique and gives me a certain sense that everything about this show is being done right, but I do not see the designs as baity. Again, I have one exception.

Now, the official, current design of Wolf O'Donnell has a striking image, but I am not seeing “Mercenary That You Could Have Any Feelings For”. He is more “If a Space Orc Had a Fursona” material.

Matthew Gafford however brings us a toned down, smarmy, confident merc who could probably trick you and I both into a relationship. The simple brown leather jacket-slacks combo, strong expressions, and perfectly fitting voice all scream “This Wolf is a furry darling”.