brushed out waves

anonymous asked:

hey! could you do one where the reader has naturally very curly hair and she and dan straighten each other's hair?

- when people thought of you and dan as a couple, they generally thought “hair.”

- both of your had luscious curls and looked like actual gods when standing next to each other with your natural hair

- occasionally, you and dan decided to straighten your hair together as it was fun and you both appreciated the change

- you set out your nice flat iron and heat protectant and a heavy duty hair brush to get through your curls before calling for dan to “hurry his ass up” as you were already restless

- “calm the hell down, i’m here.” he giggles, handing you a glass of water before setting his down and sitting against the foot of the bed so you had easy access to his hair

- plopping onto the bed and draping your legs over his shoulders as you brush out his waves and drench him in heat protectant because you wouldn’t dream of harming his precious curls

- “jesus christ y/n, is that enough product?” he chuckles as you roll your eyes, “careful howell, my hand my ‘accidentally’ slip and burn you!” you joke as he promptly shuts his lips

- brushing through his newly straightened hair, scratching his scalp as you knew he enjoyed it before switching places with him

- “holy hell, i forget how much hair you have sometimes!” he grins, petting your giant ball of frizz before running a brush through it

- dan straightening all of your curls before kissing the top of your head and whispering an “all done” to your as you both stand up and put away the iron

- walking in front of the mirror together and gawking at how hot you both look together and petting each other’s straight hair


- if you were both bisexual, you’d take the opportunity to post a picture together with your straightened hair, captioning it “we’re almost as straight as our hair ;)”

(can u tell i have curly hair lol kill me)

anonymous asked:

Maybe Alpha Qui-gon braiding bounty hunter omega obi wans hair after a long mission, possible cuddling to ensue??? Maybe qui can demonstrate his knowledge on intricate braiding??? Major kudos to u an this blog btw I'm in loveeeee I check back so frequently it's embarrassing 😂

“If you undo it, you braid it.” Obi-Wan warned him and Qui-Gon chuckled as he settled behind the other on his knees, still undoing the bun with care. “That’s not as much a threat as you think it is Obi-Wan.” The Jedi offered placidly.

“I know several forms for braids and can with ease fix yours up again.” That got a eyeroll out of the omega.

“Of course you do. What can’t you do?”

“My dancing is atrocious outside of ballroom dancing.” Qui-Gon hummed as he started to unbraid the long copper hair, feeling the silky mass beneath his touch. “If I cook anything more complicated then water and grains it turns out a bit bland and inedible. Rations don’t really count, that’s just add water and its done.” He mused over what else he couldn’t do while parting the waves. “Lets see, I can sing but I unfortunately have never learned any instruments to accompany it.”

“Bet if you learned you’d be good.” Obi-Wan hummed in return, eyes half lidded from the touch. He didn’t even care that they were sitting outside Qui-Gon’s tent and that everyone could see them.

“Oh I don’t know, clumsy fingers.” The Jedi stopped a bit to look at his fingers. “Perhaps a piano though.” He ran his fingers from the bounty hunters scalp and down, brushing the waves out with slow care and teasing out the developing snarls in it.

“Oh that feels good.” Obi-Wan melted back into the touch, tipping his head back with a quiet sigh of pleasure.

“Good.” Qui-Gon rumbled quietly, inwardly squirming in pleasure at how content the other sounded. Wasn’t this what he’d spent years imagining, Obi-Wan with him, quiet and content. Perhaps not in an army camp but still, that was something he could look away from.

Not far away from them, Jango watched, eyebrows raised in surprise.

The first time he’d meet the omega, Obi-Wan had actually outright bitten him for daring to try and touch him. He still had a phantom sensation in his hand every time the other growled and he never thought the other would submit himself to any alpha.

Yet, here he was, watching Obi-Wan practically melt for the slow touch from a Jedi.

He lifted his hand comm, he couldn’t wait to tell the others about this. ‘Hondo would actually be relieved…’

“So, braid. Pigtails?”

“We’re not filling some vapid fantasy here of young school omegas.” Obi-Wan grunted and Qui-Gon laughed, rubbing his fingers against the others scalp.

“Teasing you Obi-Wan. No hmm…how about a Alderaanian braid? Or the Naboo double twist braid?” Qui-Gon hummed and Obi-Wan considered that. “I’ve never tried the double twist. I’ve had a Alderaanian braid.”

“Then the double twist it is.” The Jedi parted Obi-Wan’s hair in two in the middle and started working on one side first while holding the other side together with the Force.

“And you complain about me using the Force frivolously. You’re the Jedi.” The bounty hunter snorted at him.

“Ah but this is a worthy cause. After all, its for you.”

Qui-Gon grinned at the quiet as a small flush started to rise up Obi-Wan’s neck and to his ears.

Behind the Rear Window - Ch.2

Don’t expect a new chapter every day but I was aware that the first one doesn’t really give you too much and I already had this written so I couldn’t resist!

Ch.1 / Read here on AO3

“Is she worth it?” The commanding voice broke Jughead out of his heat induced daze. He didn’t even flick his eyes away from the courtyard before addressing the speaker.


“Whoever you’re staring at out there. Is she worth the sentence when she reports you for being a peeping tom? In the olden days they burnt your eyes out with a red hot poker – I can’t imagine anybody is worth that,” Veronica prattled as she hung her coat and hat on the rack by the door. “I’m all for window shopping but never with such extreme consequences.” Jughead’s lips lifted in a subtle smile at her words. He’d make sure he settled his features back into their disapproving nonchalance by the time she rounded the chair to face him.

“I’m not staring at anyone; I’m impartially observing the nature of the unguarded home occupant,” Jughead retorted wryly, lifting his heavy eyes to meet hers. She was wearing pale blue today, white belt cinching in her already slender waist where her hands lay accusingly. Her lips were painted a light red and her dark hair fell in their usual ringlets about her shoulders. Jughead shook his head imperceptibly – he should have guessed that Veronica Lodge didn’t sweat, even in over one hundred degree heat.

“That’s what they all say,” she replied, knowing full well that they didn’t. “And before you know it you’ll be watching the world through bars instead.” He rolled his eyes at her overdramatics and pursed lips, watching as Miss Legs brushed out her waves in the reflection of a serving tray propped up against her sink. Veronica rummaged through her handbag, pulling out a small case and snapping it open to reveal a thermometer. She wedged it hastily between Jughead’s slightly parted lips before he had a chance to return any sardonic remarks.

“I’ve told you before not to sleep in that chair, at least a dozen times. You’ve already got this,” she paused, tapping a painted nail against his cast, “I really don’t think, having known you, you’d appreciate a back brace,” she said, arching a dark eyebrow. Jughead watched her breeze through his apartment, bypassing the mess and finding whatever she wanted with little fuss. Veronica shook out the clean bed sheet, spreading it over the temporarily set up table shoved unceremoniously against the furthest wall from the window, shielded partially by the chimney breast. “I knew a guy, once – he was a patient of mine. Never saw him outside of his office, always hunched over that desk of his, even scheduled our appointments there. Some kind of financial advisor, I think. Couldn’t recall a time I saw him look into another person’s eyes while talking to them. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that he was hiding from something,” she recalled, shaking her head as she plumped a pillow, tugging at the corners of the case.

“Do you have a point?” Jughead asked around the thermometer. Veronica worked mechanically, pulling a multitude of bottles out of her apparently bottomless bag.

“Would you like to know what happened to him?” she asked, striding over to pinch the device from his mouth and check the reading. Jughead licked his dry lips.

“This isn’t a story about the in-too-deep business man who throws himself out the tenth story window, is it?” he enquired dryly. Veronica huffed, something she seemed to do a lot in Jughead’s experience. He had thought that perhaps it was just him that incited such a disgruntled reaction and took a little sick pleasure in the fact.

“No. He’s still there,” she revealed. Jughead looked at her with a furrowed brow, noting the way she regarded him as if she had just imparted a great discovery. With a hand resting on the back of his chair she rolled her eyes his continued staring. “I don’t want to come back one day and find the dry bones of the once great Jughead Jones, by this window where I left him.” Jughead scoffed as he turned back to the window in what he was aware was ironic defence. Mr Caretaker had ventured downstairs, door thudding with a little too much force before he knelt by his bed of roses. Jughead watched the way he stabbed at the soil with his garden fork, prongs repeatedly piercing the dirt.

“You have a hormone deficiency.” Veronica’s statement startled him. He turned back to find her staring between him and the thermometer.

“You can tell that from my temperature?” he questioned disbelievingly. Veronica was good at her job, but not that good.

“Weeks spent staring at those sunbathing beauties and not one of them has managed to raise it by a degree,” she commented flippantly as she shook the stick to cool it down. Jughead began to shift in his seat, preparing for the next part of their appointment.

“I told you I wasn’t staring at them. And even if I was they hold little interest for me,” he added, a defensive note creeping into his usually flat tone. Veronica grabbed him under the arm, hoisting him up expertly before helping him hobble to the table. Shedding his shirt, Jughead lay across the material.

“Are you lonely, Jughead?” she asked with a genuine curiosity that made Jughead’s jaw clench. He’d long gotten over her unprofessional penchant for calling him ‘Jughead’ rather than ‘Mr Jones’.

“Are you unfulfilled, Veronica?” he fired back, eyes still hard and focused on the peeling corner of the wallpaper in front of him. She slapped the cold massaging lotion on his back a shade harder than necessary, making him wince.

It was a badly kept secret that Veronica Lodge did not need to be an insurance company nurse. Barely concealed purls, perfectly manicured fingers, and Jughead had been around enough designer clothes in the past few months to know that what Veronica wore would not be described as cheap. And yet here she was, hands pushing out the tight knots in his back, sore from lack of movement and less than advisable sleeping positions. Her family money appeared to be a desirable asset but it just wasn’t enough to get her through the endless days. Jughead knew that ‘lacking’ feeling well.

“You thought anymore about her?” Veronica asked, steering the conversation back to him.

“Betty Cooper,” Jughead sighed, resting his chin on the backs of his laced fingers. Veronica laughed as she worked his back.

“Betty Cooper,” she repeated. Veronica knew well enough who she was; if she had deigned to be a society girl then their circles wouldn’t be too different. Saying that name in the rundown apartment of a photojournalist on this side of town wouldn’t have even occurred to her, however, if he hadn’t already let it slip himself a few weeks prior.

“She’s trouble,” Jughead remarked, cryptically.

“I don’t think those two things are compatible,” Veronica quipped, thumbs pressing against the grooves in his spine and making him grunt. “Blonde hair, pink lips… what’s not to like?”

“She’s not the girl for me. She’s too perfect,” he said, hoping the sadness in his voice wasn’t as apparent to Veronica as it was to himself.

“‘Too perfect’. What’s ‘too perfect’?”

“She’ll want to get married.”

“And what’s so wrong with that? I think a little married life will do you good,” Jughead heard for the second time that morning, thoughts drifting back to Mr Caretaker – he wondered if his roses were still living.

“I don’t think the two things are compatible,” he repeated her words from earlier, knowing she would be giving him her signature eye roll as he spoke. And again for the second time that day the unwelcome image of his father invaded his mind, this time accompanied by the partially blocked view he had of his mother leaving their trailer for the last time, garnered from behind the half closed closet door he’d hidden in.

“Miss Cooper is a well-rounded, pleasant mannered, delightful young woman,” Veronica listed as if she were reading from a brochure. “And she gives a better view than anything out that damn window,” she added with her usual snark.

“Betty Cooper belongs to society. Hell, she is society. I need someone who is willing to go anywhere, do anything, to chase the story. And love doing it. I’ve seen the shoes she wears and they are barely suitable for chasing down a cab,” he mocked. He felt his chest tighten in betrayal as he spouted out words to Betty’s detriment.

“Shoes are merely dressing. You know that underneath them we all have the same feet, right?”

“In Betty’s case they don’t touch the ground.”

“Then she’ll have no issues with flying.”

“Caramel! Where are you, sweetheart?”

“Keep your damn dog away from my flowerbeds!”

Jughead’s brow furrowed as they lapsed into silence, eyes glancing at the carelessly slung copy of Bazaar magazine without his permission. The world faded to black and white as Betty’s image grinned back at him from the open pages – she’d been reading it last time she came to visit; a puff piece done on herself by some tired journalist looking to escape the monotony of the society pages, she’d informed him. Still, the photographer had done a decent job of capturing her essence. Her green eyes shone with something akin to mischief as they stared into his own. Oh, he was well aware of the effects of that mischief…

“It just won’t work. There’s a rational way to approach the situation-” Jughead began with a sigh.

“There is no rationality where love is concerned,” Veronica cut in, dragging a rough towel over his skin. His stomach clenched.

“I just have a bad feeling,” Jughead confessed, not entirely sure what he was addressing. All he knew was that there’d been a twisting in the depths of his gut recently, an uncomfortable churning that he wasn’t sure he knew how to identify. Veronica laughed, shrill and unsympathetic.

“That, my darling, is from sleeping in this damn chair.”

Heart - Part 2

Originally posted by e-wonderland-98

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

I walked into first period with Scott and Stiles. Scott sat to the left of Stiles and I sat in front of Scott.

“As you all know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night. And I am sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened. But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus which is on your desk outlining the semester.” There was a collective groan, and I tuned everything out and began to doodle on my syllabus, only glancing up to see the new girl passing by me and sitting behind Scott. I turned in time to see Scott handing new girl a pen, even though she didn’t ask for one.

The new girl glanced between Scott and the pen with a questioning look on her face before whispering a thanks and offering Scott a shy, grateful smile.

“We’ll begin with Kafka’s Metamorphosis on page 133.” The teacher began and I internally groaned and went back to doodling on my syllabus.

It was finally the end of the day and Scott and Stiles were crowded around me at my locker. I was talking to Stiles as Scott was off in lala-land staring at the new girl.

“Can someone tell me how new girl is here for all of five minutes, and she’s already hanging out with Lydia’s clique?” A random girl asked as she stood next to Stiles.

“Because she’s hot. Beautiful people heard together.” Stiles retaliated.

I rolled my eyes as Stiles began to bicker with the girl about who knows what and Scott was still off in lala-land.

I shut my locker and grabbed Stiles by the back of his collar and began to drag him away, “ I apologize for his ability to argue with anyone about anything.”

I grabbed Scott by the back of his collar and drug the both to the door of the boys locker room.

“You two are going to be the death of me one day, you know that, right? Now get changed, get on that field, and make me proud!” I ordered before walking away and making my way to the lacrosse field to find a nice seat on the bleachers.

A few minutes after I sat down, I saw Lydia and the new girl sit down on the bench in front of me. The poor new girl looked like she didn’t want to be here at all, that is until Scott walked onto the field.

“Who is that?” She asked as Coach shoved a goalie stick into Scott’s arms.

“Him? I’m not sure who he is. Why?” Lydia questioned.

“He’s in my English class.” New girl responded.

“Hi! I’m in your English class too, and I also happen to be that idiot’s best friend. My name is Liv and his is Scott. What’s your name?” I asked as I smiled and held out my hand for her to shake.

“Allison.” She said as she returned my smile and shook my hand.

I looked up just as Scott got hit in the face with a ball. I groaned and put my head in my hands and peeked between my fingers as someone else flung the ball at him. But to my surprise he caught it, with reflexes he never had before.

I just stared at him in disbelief, like everyone else did. Ball after ball, Scott kept catching them, even the amazing shot from Jackson.

“Yeah! That’s my best friend!” I shouted at the same time as Stiles.

“He seems like he’s pretty good.” Allison said.

“Oh, very good.” Lydia mused, but I wasn’t paying attention, Scott made me proud!

Stiles, Scott and I were walking through the woods trying to find Scott’s inhaler, talking about his amazing catch earlier.

“I don’t - I don’t know what it was. It was like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball. And that’s not the only weird thing. I - I can - hear stuff I shouldn’t be able to hear. Smell things.” Scott explained.

“Smell things? Like what?” Stiles asked.

“Like the mint-mojito gum in your pocket, or Liv that new perfume in your bag.”

“I don’t even have any mint-mojito-” Stiles began, but stopped when he fished a piece of gum out from his pocket. I stopped where I was and dug around my bag for my perfume.

“This one?” I asked as I held it out towards Scott.

“Yeah, that one.” He nodded.

“Since when do you shop at Victoria’s Secret?” Stiles asked appalled.

“Since I like their stuff.” I snapped back.

“But isn’t that, like, a sex shop?” He retaliated.

“No. It’s a place to buy cute bras and underwear. It’s also a good place to buy sports wear and good smelling things. But anyway, so this all started with a bite?” I changed the subject.

“What if it’s like an infection, like, my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?” Scott rambled.

“You know what? I actually think I’ve heard of this. It’s a specific type of infection.”

“Are you serious?” Scott asked as he began to freak out.

“Yeah, yeah, I think it’s called lycanthropy.” Stiles said, trying to hide a smile, and it took everything that I had not to bust out laughing.

“What’s that? Is that bad?” Scott asked and I couldn’t hold it back anymore, I burst out laughing.

“Oh, yeah, it’s the worst. But only once a month.” Stiles continued while snickering.

“Once a month?” Scott asked, confused.

“On the night of the full moon.” I laughed and looked at Stiles, and we howled together before busting out laughing. When our laughter died down we saw that Scott was giving us a look.

“Hey, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling.” Stiles reasoned.

“Hey, there could be something seriously wrong with me!” Scott complained.

“I know, you’re a werewolf. Rrr” I growled and Scott gave us another look.

“Okay, obviously, we’re kidding. But if you see me in shop class trying to melt all of the silver I can find, it’s ‘cause Friday’s a full moon.” Stiles said as we came to a stop in a clearing.

“No.” Scott muttered as he rummaged through the leaves. “I could have sworn this was it. I saw the body, the deer came running. I dropped my inhaler.”

“Maybe the killer moved the body.” Stiles suggested.

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like 80 bucks.” Scott stressed.

I looked up to see a handsome man dressed in all black just standing, staring at us with a resting bitch face, before he approached..

“What are you doing here? This is private property.” The man said.

“Uh, sorry, man, we didn’t know.” Stiles said for all of us.

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but, uhm, forget it.” Scott said, about to walk away, but the hot guy tossed something at him and when we all looked in his hand, it was his inhaler. We all looked up but hot guy was gone, “Alright, come on, I gotta get to work.”

“That was Derek Hale. You guys remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.” Stiles said.

“Remember what?” I asked.

“His family. They all burned to death in a fire, like, ten years ago.” Stiles said.

“I wonder what he’s doing back.” Scott wondered out loud.

“I don’t care, he’s hot, he can stay as long as he likes.” I mused.

“Come on.” Stiles rolled his eyes and walked towards the Jeep, with Scott and me following behind.

After we dropped Scott off at work, Stiles drove us to my house. Both of my parents were out of town for work so the house was empty.

“Are you ready for the best movie night of your life?” I asked Stiles as I threw my bag next to the door and walked backwards towards the kitchen.

“Hell yeah!” Stiles laughed.

I grabbed the landline from the island and called for pizza. Once the pizza was ordered, I walked up the stairs to my bedroom and changed into a pair of yoga shorts and Stiles’ lacrosse hoodie that he left who knows how long ago. I reached into the drawer that I had designated for the boys clothes and grabbed Stiles a pair sweat pants.I walked back downstairs and threw the sweats at Stiles.

“Is that my hoodie?” Stiles asked as I started to put my hair into a messy bun.

“Yeah, why?” I asked as I walked over to the couch and plopped down.

“Nothing, I’m just not used to seeing you in guys clothing.” He said as he shook his head.

“So, what do we want to start with, Harry Potter or Star Trek?” 

I woke up the the tune of the Harry Potter theme song, I was too tired to open my eyes, so instead, I decided to roll over to fall back asleep, but instead of finding the other side of my bed, I found nothing. I let out a shriek as I fell to the floor. I groaned as Stiles shot up and looked around the living room for me, before looking at me laying on the floor.

“What are you doing on the floor?” He asked with his head cocked to the side.

“Damn couch.” I groaned as I clutched my chest.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked as he clambered off of the couch and crouched beside me.

“I’ll be fine in a minute, I just scared myself.” I muttered.

“Maybe you should get it checked out, it seems like it’s getting worse.” He said as he helped me sit up. I love my boys, but after my heartbeat rises and I show that I’m in pain, they both are slightly over protective.

“What time is it?” I asked and Stiles checked his phone.

“We still have an hour before we have to be at school.”

“Good. I’ll be back.” I said as I patted his shoulder and stood up.

I walked upstairs to my room, opened my closet and pulled out a purple long sleeve crop, a pair of high waisted skinny jeans and my black flats. I went to my bathroom and did my makeup natural with a light pink lipstick. I pulled my hair out of the bun and brushed out the waves. I walked back into my room and changed into my clothes for the day, spraying some perfume before I left. I walked down the stairs and grabbed my black leather jacket and my bag before telling Stiles I was ready. We clambered into his Jeep and drove to his house so that he could change.

We pulled up to the Stilinski home, got out of the Jeep and walked into the house. Stiles ran up the stairs to change and I made us both some toast for breakfast. 

Just as the bread popped up from the toaster, Stiles bound down the stairs and picked up the landline that Sheriff had picked up a minute before. After a little of him listening, he hung up and looked at me.

“What?” I asked as I handed him his piece of toast.

“So you know how the body was sent to Los Angeles for analysis? Well that was them. They found animal hairs on the body.” Stiles rambled.

“Yeah, so? The body was found in the woods.” I deadpanned.

“So, the hair was from a wolf…”

First Time (M - Namjoon)

*Well the title speaks for itself*

-Requests Closed-

Word Count: 1,440 words~

Everything was fine, you couldn’t be happier with Namjoon. Up until recently, you’ve been having these feelings.

Waking up to his naked chest makes you so flustered that you would fall out of bed and hear his morning voice mocking you.

“Hey, beautiful. Enjoying the floor again?”

“Y-Yup.” He helped you up, you avoiding his eyes. You sat on the bed, him sitting next to you simply.

“How could you start the day so clumsily, doll? I’m not even that clumsy.”

“Maybe you’re hogging all the bed.”

“I don’t move that much.”


“Maybe I should just hold you closer next time.”

“I was just kidding..”

“Why you getting all shy, Y/N~? Don’t you like cuddling with me?”

“Q-Quit it.” He leaned in and you pushed him off. He chuckled at you and you hit his arm.

“It’s not funny. This is why I’m more than acquainted with the floor, Joonie.”

“I’ll be careful, baby.” He kissed your forehead and went into the bathroom, obviously going to take a shower.

You promised to meet your friend and maybe she could give you some advice. You picked out your clothes as he came out of the shower. He was drying his hair with a towel around his waist.

Holy shit. How could he tease you like this?

“Go in while the water’s hot.” You walk past him, getting a light smack on the ass to which you whined. You cleaned yourself, your sponge brushing against your nipples. You stimulated yourself, using the friction between your nipple and sponge, slipping your fingers to your pussy.

You touched your clit, biting your lip and praying the sound of water would mask your muffled moans. You left the shower, covering yourself and Namjoon swung the door open.


“You take too long, doll.”

“What if I was naked or something?”

“Technically, you are. That towel isn’t going to stay on your body for long.”


“Don’t take it too seriously, I’m only teasing. Plus, you’re not ready yet.” He offered you a smile, you nodding solemnly and he got ready with you. He kept bumping your elbow and you poked his sides in return.

You fixed his cap and he kissed you goodbye. His lips wanted to venture further, seeing how long this kiss could last but he had to leave.

“Have fun, doll.” As he was exiting, your friend walked in. They exchanged byes and she looked at you.

“Hey, Y/N-ie~”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Come on, it’s cute~”

“It’s not.”

“So, have you done it yet?”

“Done what?”

“It’s really cute how innocent you’re acting but we both know you know what am I talking about.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have to test drive a car before you take it home, Y/N.”

“But I don’t know how..”

“Our sweet little virgin~”

“D-Don’t say that..!”

“Sweetie, you have a boyfriend who’s probably a beast in bed and you’re pretty gorgeous. Do I really have to do the math here?”


“Y/N, what is it really? I know it’s more than you being a virgin.”

“What if..what if I’m not what he wants after all?”

“Then, you’ve been dating an idiot. In all honesty, I don’t know any guy that would go 6 months without sex. Six. He obviously stayed for you, and if that’s the case… I’m going to jail for murder.”


“Now, we need to get you prepared. Namjoon doesn’t know what he’s in for.”

She raided your underwear drawer, finding nothing that, in her opinion, said ‘sexy’. After a trip to Victoria’s Secret and your friend lecturing you on how to be seductive, you thought you were prepared.

But God, were you nervous. She curled your hair, brushing it out into waves and made you change into one of his dress shirts. You sat in the living room, waiting for him to walk through the door.

How were you going to do this? You heard the click of the lock and all breathing ceased. He dropped his bag as usual but you saw his jaw drop as well. You immediately wanted to hide, this isn’t what it was supposed to be.


“Welcome home, Joonie~” You walked over to him, his eyes never leaving you and you gave a smile like she told you to.

“What did I do wrong?”

“What do you mean, Joonie?”

“You’re acting different?”

“Good or bad?” You caressed his cheek, still staring into his eyes as he fumbled up an answer.

“D-Doll, what’s up with you?”

“I just want to.. I want to make you feel good?” He started chuckling to you dismay, grabbing your hands and you pout. You intended to be sexy, not a joke.

“W-What’s so funny? Namjoon~”

“No wonder, I didn’t think you be like this.” You let go of his hands, maybe you couldn’t be sexy or sultry like other women can. You enter the bathroom, wiping off the makeup your friend put on and Namjoon came behind you.


“It’s okay, Namjoon.”

“Y/N, I thought it was cute.”

“I wasn’t trying to be cute.”

“I know but you don’t need to act like that. Look at me.” He turned you around, making direct eye contact with you.

“I love every single thing about you. It doesn’t take much from you to get me on my knees, Y/N. You don’t need to act like those other girls to be sexy. You already are, and always will be to me. Come here.” He took your hand, taking you to the bed.

You lie down, his body on top of yourself.

“Let me love you.”

He kissed you and there was a pit in your stomach. It was a burning passion, the undying desire you’ve had for him being the cause. You indulge in his perfectly plump lips, the taste only lighting your body on fire.

“N-Namjoon..” His lips travel down your neck, leaving a hickey on your collarbone as he pops open the buttons on his shirt. His hands caress your chest, teasing each nipple in the process before planting kisses along your stomach.

He took no time stripping you of your underwear, wanting to see just your naked body in his shirt.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes..” He plunged two of his fingers inside you, slowly thrusting them while his tongue attempted to distract you. You moaned his name, that being the only thing you could do.

Your voice cracked when he began sucking on your clit, a instant rush of pleasure flowing through your body. He increased his pacing, seeing that you’ve adjusted and you became louder.

He would pull back, leaning over to plant a sweet kiss on your lips. You would taste yourself on his tongue, explaining why his tongue rarely left your pussy.

“N-Namjoon, please.”


“I-I want you.. I want your c-cock..” Your cheeks felt hot, muttering such a dirty word but he looked at you understandingly. He unzipped his jeans, massaging his erection before slipping off his pants and boxers.

You weren’t as scared as you thought you would be but he was bigger than you’ve imagined. There was times where you felt him brushing up against you while spooning but you couldn’t properly gauge him.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?”

“O-Okay.” The tip was fine until he began to push in deeper. His fingers wiped the forming tears in the corners of your eyes, worrying him if he was hurting you. You smiled, hoping that would reassure him that it wasn’t too painful. It was more like a pinch that stung for a bit before you wanted him to move.

The friction was gradually dulling into pleasure the more he thrusted into you. You held onto him, looking at his face while continued moving his hips. He kissed you, short and quick kisses between his low groans.

You gave him the go ahead to move faster, making him now slam his hips into you. The sweat was forming more beads on his body, giving you an indication for how much energy he was using.



“I-I.” You felt the rush first before you could finish, an orgasm no new to you. It was different, at least having clenched around his cock instead of your fingers.

He pulled out of you, leaving to dispose the condom before joining your sweaty body on the bed. He cuddled up to you, you now facing him with your breasts pressing against his chest.


“You’re amazing.”

~Admin Blake


Kahlani Twins Beauty Essentials // Hair, Make-Up, Nails and more

HAIR (list of products)

If you’re hair isn’t naturally wavy, the easiest way to get the twins’ hair look will be hair tong. Take a larger iron and loosely wrap chuncks and ends around the iron (thanks Lou and The Craft!) and just simply brush the waves out! If you want your hair to be a bit messier, mermaid-like, spray your hair with bunch of sea salt spray and dry it with a help of good old diffuser. Both twins naturally have dark brown hair which they regulary light to get the orange tones. If you have blonde or bleached hair, try mixing BLEACH London’s Tangerine Dream and Awkward Peach to get the similar colour! For their Craft fringe, try Fudge Urban Paintbox colours, just array them like rainbow!

MAKE-UP (list of products)

For good make-up look in general GET YOURSELF ONLY THE BEST BRUSHES (my personal faves are Real Techniques brushes).Twins’ make-up is simple and basic. Start with a good primer which will prep your skin and keep your make-up on longer. If you have clean face, without heeps of blemishes and redness just add a bit of concealer and BB cream (if you feel insicure about your skin, go with the full foundation in darker tones). Twins put on fake tan, so put a good bronzer on your must have list. Eye make-up is typical smoky, smudgey and greasy. Get yourself good liquid eyliner and check 41st page in Lou Teasdale’s beauty bible, The Craft. Keep your lipstick natural and beige and matte (The Craft, page 43).

NAILS (list of products)

Nails are not much of a philosophy if you visit good nail artist and ask for bright and glittery nails. If you are crafty and have a calm hand, get bright and neon nail varnishes, glitter and a nail art brush and get going! If you are just a bit lazier and love a bit of risk, get yourself H&H 3D nails and just put ‘em on for raddest nails in the city! (For nail tips, check the Craft, page 81 and so on)

OTHER (list of products)

Twins’ skin is clear and dark. That means (if genes didn’t play a good role) you need loads of skin care and fake tan (the Craft, page 54). Don’t forget to put on a good perfume and some glitter on your face and skin!

smoke-stars-anddeathrates  asked:

I had no idea how badly I needed greaser!gage in my life until now. Please continue!

Anonymous said: More of the 50s!au please, please, pleeease? I will love you forever if you do

A prequel to this.

Mr. Boggs assigned Madge as Gale’s tutor for English because he’d missed too many classes (the Mockingjays thought he was just cutting class.  He didn’t feel like telling them Posy had the measles and Hazelle could get fired for missing work but Gale wouldn’t get fired for missing class) and she met him in the library, her blonde hair in a neat, high ponytail and with a bright red sweater stretched tightly across her chest.

(A pebble rolls down a hill).


At first he slacked off, using their time in the library to make dirty jokes and see if he could crack that pristine exterior, until the day she snapped and told him he was too smart to be this far behind and if he didn’t want to take this seriously that was fine, but she never thought Gale Hawthorne would shrink from a challenge.  That got him, and the next day he saw the beginnings of a smile when he imitated Mrs. Trinkett from the main office.

(The pebble dislodges a stone).

He didn’t normally go to her part of town, but Hazelle had some errands she needed him to run.  Gale almost kept walking when he heard the scuffle (not his territory, not his business) but then he heard her voice.  He was halfway down the alley before he even realized he’d decided to interfere.  Madge stood defiantly, her books clutched to her chest as she stared Marvel and Cato down.  “I said no,” she snapped, and maybe she had it under control, but Gale stepped in anyway.

“Problem?” he growled.  He’d gone up against Marvel and Cato before (although both times with the Mockingjays behind him) and won, something they both clearly remembered as they backed away.  “You okay?” he asked once they were out of sight.

Madge gave him a shy smile that sparked a small fire in his chest.  “Yes,” she said softly, and rose on her toes to brush her lips against his cheek.

(The stone tumbles down, picking up speed).

She worked part-time at the public library.  Gale didn’t remember when he learned that (or why he knew she worked late on Wednesdays) but there he was, prowling through the stacks ten minutes before closing.  She startled when she saw him, and maybe she was going to say something (and maybe he was too) but instead he captured her lips in a kiss that went on and on, her back pressed against the shelves and the books she had been holding forgotten, scattered on the floor.

(More stones rain down, relentless.)

Gale waited until ten minutes after the light flicked off in the top left window (Daddy goes to bed at 10 and he sleeps like a log.  Momma doesn’t wake up much anymore) and climbed up the trellis.  Her window was open, an invitation, and she sat in front of her dresser, brushing out her long blonde waves.  Her high-necked nightgown was so demure it was almost obscene, but it came off same as all girls’ clothes do.  It was different with Madge—Gale wasn’t used to being tender, wasn’t used to going slow, but he didn’t want to rush her (he hadn’t been like this since Katniss, which had ended with awkwardness and devastation in equal measure).  But she spurred him on, sucking a red bruise onto his shoulder as he drove into her over and over again (Jo was always leaving her mark on him and Gale thought he hated it, but now that it was Madge he realized he liked being marked so long as it was true; he belonged to Madge. With Jo it was a lie neither of them really believed).

(The stones pelted the boulders until they joined the descent).

After, she kissed his chest and whispered everything she knew he was capable of, not caring that he was a poor kid from the Seam, not believing his protests when he said he was the leader of the Mockingjays and that was all he’d ever be.  Gale wrapped his arms more tightly around her and clung to her like she was a lifeline.  Maybe she was.

(Gale lay at the bottom, surrounded by destruction.  He should have cared, but he didn’t.  Everything he thought he stood for was gone, but all he felt was gratitude).

Where Paths Diverge (2/?)

This is a Captain Swan Choose Your Own Adventure story (details here)

When Regina seeks revenge for Cora’s death and a happy ending with Henry something goes horribly wrong. A canon divergence fic from 2x20 “The Evil Queen” where Regina’s failsafe isn’t an auto-destruct.

Dedicated to belovedcreation Beta by phiralovesloki 

Part 1

“No way. I’m not pretending to be married. I’ve seen that movie.” Hook gives her a blank look and she shakes her head. “Never mind. The point is that we remember and so other people probably do too.” Emma doesn’t know the first thing about magic but this seems logical. Why would she and Hook be different?

They sit in silence contemplating the question. Emma sighs and runs her hands through her hair. Hook glances up at the movement.

“Swan. The cuff.”

Emma looks down at her wrist where her sleeve has slid up revealing the leather cuff Hook gave her to climb the beanstalk. She feels suddenly defensive, self-conscious that he noticed it. When they returned to Storybrooke she had decided to continue wearing it. Like her swan pendant and leather shoelace–both of which she suddenly realizes she no longer has–it was a reminder. A reminder of her mistake on the beanstalk. She betrayed Hook before he could betray her only to discover that he had intended to remain allies. She had been afraid to trust again and so the cuff had remained to remind her to not keep everyone out. She fingers the leather wondering what he might be thinking.

“Yeah so?”

Hook lifts up his hand and his sleeve falls down revealing the matching cuff on his arm. He taps it with his stump and gives her a smile. “Clever lass. Keeping a magic repelling cuff on for unexpected curses is a move worthy of a pirate.”

Keep reading

In the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. ‘There’s still time. You should sleep.’ Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena.

‘You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,’ he whispers.

'Real,’ I answer. It seems to require more explanation. 'Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.’ After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.

—  Mockingjay, chapter 21

Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn‘t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It‘s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena.

“You‘re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers.
“Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation.“Because that‘s what you and I do. Protect each other.” 
After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.


Katniss Week, Day 4
Katniss + Romantic Relationship(s) - Katniss and Peeta

“Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena.
‘You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,’ he whispers.
‘Real,’ I answer. It seems to require more explanation. ‘Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.’”

ReTHG: Hair, Sleep, and Moments That Are Real

Doing the reread this week, I noticed a similarity between the three books (which may have been mentioned before):

“Go to sleep,” he says softly. His hand brushes the loose strands of my hair off my forehead. Unlike the staged kisses and caresses so far, this gesture seems natural and comforting. I don’t want him to stop and he doesn’t. He’s still stroking my hair when I fall asleep.”

- The Hunger Games, Chapter 20, Suzanne Collins

"I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,” he says. 

Usually this sort of comment, the kind that hints of his undying love for me, makes me feel guilty and awful. But I feel so warm and relaxed and beyond worrying about a future I’ll never have, I just let the word slip out. “Okay.” 

I can hear the smile in his voice. “Then you’ll allow it?” 

“I’ll allow it,” I say. 

His fingers go back to my hair and I doze off, but he rouses me to see the sunset.”

- Catching Fire, Chapter 17, Suzanne Collins

"Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena. 

“You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers. 

“Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation. “Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.” After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.”

- Mockingjay, Chapter 21, Suzanne Collins

These passages have several things in common. In them, Katniss and Peeta soothingly stroke the other person’s hair. They feel comforted enough to let their guard down, enabling the two to to overcome an outside obstacle and grow closer together. They each feel safe enough in the other’s presence to fall asleep peacefully, despite being in an extremely upsetting environment

In the case of THG, the pair is able to overcome the falseness of the star-crossed lovers’ act. Katniss describes the comfort Peeta provides as feeling real, and it is their first in-Games interaction that is described this way. Katniss feels so secure that she kets Peeta take over watching for the Careers so she can sleep.

In CF, Katniss and Peeta have done all they can to train for the Quell, and after weeks of planning to save the other person (against their wishes), both of them have, in a sense, thrown caution to the wind and made their first rebellious statement since winning the 74th Games, resulting in the Gamemakers targeting them with dual scores of twelve. Here, they are able to overcome every role that has been thrust upon them – from victors, to fiancees, to newlyweds, to tributes once more. On the rooftop, they can merely be Peeta and Katniss, the people they truly are, and it gives her enough peace of mind to drift into blissful slumber, even so close to almost certain death.

Lastly, Mockingjay. In this passage, Peeta reaches a milestone in overcoming his hijacking - he allows Katniss to touch him, and he accepts her statement that they protect each other as truth. With this, Peeta manages to find a modicum of calm, despite the fact that he’s back in the Capitol, surrounded by rebels who may want him dead, even further surrounded by capitolites who definitely want him dead, with a girl he loves and but has been brainwashed to hate and fear. This scene is one of the first when a reclamation of who Peeta really is seems possible.

These excerpts echo each other and thread a moment of purity, without subterfuge or outside influence, into each installment of the series. Each of the above quotes provide glimmers of our final, triumphant scene where Katniss and Peeta are allowed an entire future that is only “Real.”

everlark lines/scenes that need to be in the movie

“Don’t trust he, Delly,” says Peeta in a frantic voice. “I did, and she tried to kill me. She killed my friends. My family. Don’t even go near her! She’s a mutt!”

A hand reaches through the doorway, pulls Delly out, and the door swings shit. But Peeta keeps yelling. “A mutt! She’s a stinking mutt!”

“No. Pretty angry with me, but for all the right reasons. Not telling him about the rebel plot and whatnot.” Haymitch pauses for a moment, as if deciding something. “He says he’d like to see you.”

I’ve just reached the door when his voice stops me. “Katniss. I remember about the bread.”

The bread. Our one moment of real connection before the Hunger Games.

“I must have loved you a lot.”

“You did.” My voice catches and I pretend to cough.

“And did you love me?” he asks.

I keep my eyes on the tiled floor. “Everyone says I did. Everyone says that’s why Snow had you tortured. To break me.”

“Yeah, a lot of things should count for something that don’t seem to, Katniss. I’ve got some memories I can’t make sense of, and I don’t think the Capitol touched them. A lot of nights on the train, for instance,” he says.

“I didn’t put you in the rotation.”

“Why not?” I ask.

“I’m not sure you could really shoot Peeta, if it came to it,” he says.

“You do! You’re punishing him over and over for things that are out of his control. Now, I’m not saying you shouldn’t have a fully loaded weapon next to you round the clock. But I think it’s time you flipped this little scenario around in your head. If you’d been taken by the Capitol, and hijacked, and then tried to kill Peeta, is this the way he would be treating you?” demands Haymitch. 

“Ally.” Peeta says the world slowly, tasting it. “Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I’ll add it to the list fo words I use to try to figure you out.”

At a few minutes before four Peeta turns to me again. “Your favorite color…it’s green?”

“That’s right.” Then I think of something to add. “And yours is orange.”

“Orange?” He seems unconvinced.

“Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset,” I say. “At least, that’s hat you told me once.”

“You’re a painter. you’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. Yo never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.”

I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cold chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.”

I take it, not knowing what to expect. the labels reads Lamb Stew.

“Stop being noble! I don’t care if i die!”  He turns to me, pleading now. “Katniss, please. Don’t you see, I want to be out of this?”

Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. 

“You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers.

“Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation. “Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.”

“Leave me,” he whispers. “I can’t hang on.”

“Yes. You can!” I tell him. 

Peeta shakes his head. “I’m losing it. I’ll go mad. Like them.” 

It’s a long shot, it’s suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slidewrist to clasp his. “Don’t let him take you from me.”

Peeta’s panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. “No. I don’t want to…”

I clench his hands to the point of pain. “Stay with me.”

His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. “Always,” he murmurs.

I yank my head back in confusion to find myself looking into Peeta’s eyes, only now they hold my gaze. Blood runs from the teeth marks on the hand he clamped over my nightlock. “Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp.

“I can’t,” he says.


Author: @xerxia31

Rated: M for brief depictions of violence and coarse language. Warnings: same.

A/N: I have this vision of everyone naming their ficlets ‘Stolen’ this week, future asks at the everlarkficquestions blog ‘I’m looking for a drabble called ‘Stolen,’ ‘well, there are 17 of them…’

I’ve always thought of myself as invincible. Strong for my size, tough, intimidating - those are all words I have used to describe myself. And we live in Panem, sleepy little Panem, where everybody knows everybody. The absolute picture of safety.

So when Peeta protested the idea of me walking home from work alone at night along the river pathway, I didn’t take him seriously. I knew nothing was ever going to happen.

Until it did. 

Keep reading

In the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. “There’s still time. You should sleep.” Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena.
—  Mockingjay

Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes of wave of hair from his forehead.  He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil.  So I continue to gently smooth back his hair.  It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena.

You’re still trying to protect me.  Real or not real,” he whispers.

Real,” I answer.  It seems to require more explanation.  "Because that’s what you and I do.  Protect each other.“  After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.  – Mockingjay, pg. 302