Secrets (Isaac x Reader)

A/N: My masterlist is ready to go here.I just finished the new episode and it fucked me up so and and I started crying dml my mascara is all over my face but I’m too sad to find some wipes to remove it. Help me. Anyways, here we go!!

You absentmindedly nibbled on the end of your pen, listening to the English teacher drone on about the novel you had already finished analysing, you let your eyes flick over the the right, when Isaac sat 2 desks away. You smirk when your eyes meet your boyfriends, he smiles back, looking down at the pen balanced between your lips. You hold back a laugh when you saw him readjust himself in his seat, awkwardly clearing his throat. You turn your attention back to the teacher, who was now drawing some stupid and irrelevant diagram on the chalkboard. You were just trying to make sense of it when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket, making sure the teacher doesn’t see it, you slowly pull it out, reading the text message on the screen. It’s from Isaac.

“Hey, do you want to come over tonight? I have lacrosse until 5, but we could hang out after that :) “ You smile, quickly typing a reply back.

“Sounds good! I have debating until 4:30 so I’ll meet you by the field.” You quickly reply, just as the bell rings to signal the end of the day.

Debating was a drag, seeing that it was only a training session and half the team didn’t show up. You were currently sitting on the stands, looking down on the lacrosse fields. Much like debating, a lot of the team hadn’t shown up. It was only Stiles, Scott, Isaac and a few other boys you didn’t know who were all playing a mock game. You watched it, resting your head on your hand and leaning onto your knees as you watch Isaac rush towards the ball. It all happened so fast. One second, the opposing player was preparing to throw the ball, the next, his stick was hitting Isaac in the face. You gasped, watching as Isaac fell to the ground in pain. You stood quickly, rushing down the stairs and onto the field. You pushed through the crowd of players, using your smaller frame to wiggle through. Isaac was holding his face and groaning, Stiles and Scott knelt beside him, and you joined them, fully obscuring his face from the surrounding crowd. Your boyfriend, was covering his face with his hands and you slowly reached out and moved them down, trying to see the extent of the damage. He had a black eye, a deep purple blooming around his swollen lids. He also had a large gash on his forehead, and some blood was slowly leaking out. You were lost for words, your eyes scanning his face for injuries. What happened next made you gasp. Slowly, his gash began to close, his skin being pulled back together as his deep bruise faded almost instantly. He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, they shone a dark golden. You bit back a scream when you scrambled back onto your feet, barging through the ground to get to your car and to get home.

“Y/N!“ You heard someone yell to your retreating back, but you didn’t dare to turn back. There was something wrong with Isaac, people don’t just miraculously heal like that in seconds. You quickly got into your car, not even doing up your seatbelt before you drove out of the school grounds, pushing past the speed limit.

You were at home, trying to focus on the textbook you had open in front of you, but you couldn’t shake Isaac out of your mind. How had he healed so quickly? Was he a vampire? A ghost? You needed answers but didn’t really want to confront him now. Just as you started reading the next paragraph of the page, a tiny tapping noise came from the window. Ignoring your instincts, and everything you’d ever learnt from horror movies, you went to the window.

Isaac was balanced precariously on the window sill, panting slightly. You slide the window up to open it, your eyes boring into his.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now, but I have to tell you something.” You don’t say anything, but tighten your pursed lips.

“I’m a werewolf”

A/N: Welp I haven’t written in ages so this is probably crap. But in other news, I’m going to Japan soon!! As in like 22 days! I’m super excited to go with my family and travel around for 2 weeks. Anyone with any travel advice hmu cause I’ve been like everywhere in Asian except for Japan lol. Love you bye xx

Imagine Yamaguchi spraining his ankle and Tsukki and him riding the train somewhere one day and there’s nowhere to sit because the train is busy. Finally, Tsuki finds a seat, and tries to get Yamaguchi to sit, but he won’t, insisting that he’d done a lot of work at practice and deserved to sit. Tsukki wouldn’t mind, normally, but Yamaguchi is injured, and doesn’t want him standing on a sprained ankle, so he does the only thing he can think of: he sits in the seat and pulls Yamaguchi into his lap. They’re both blushing messes, but even as seats clear up, neither makes the move to have Yamaguchi sit somewhere else and they spend the entirety of the ride like that.

Rose Colored Glasses

A ‘The Man From U.N.C.L.E.’ AU
For the @jonxsansafanfiction Valentines Challenge
Day Six: Pretend Relationship
Summary: Margaery is certain that one of these days Snow’s brooding is going to get them all killed. (Inspired by @goodqueenalys awesome TMFU AU edit).

The French Riviera, 1963

There is a minute shift in Snow’s posture that sets every nerve in Margaery’s body on alert.

She takes a drag from her cigarette, her other hand inching discretely under her hem towards the piece strapped to her thigh. She does a quick scan of casino floor.

The front entrance? Clear. The mark? Still seated at his table. And Sansa…

Margaery’s finger drifts away from the trigger when she spots the source of Snow’s agitation.

Sansa is in uniform as one of the casino’s cigarette girls, peddling some of her wares to Sorensen’s lackies. The one closest to her says something that has Sansa giggling and grabbing onto his bicep for support.

Margaery looks back over at Snow who has murder in his eyes. 

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Kara’s voice is light and her eyes close when she laughs. Most of the time Lena doesn’t even mean to make a joke but somehow Kara brings out the humanity in her. It’s especially captivating to watch Kara’s hand cover her mouth, as if she’s trying to hide her smile. Instinctively Lena leans forward, resting her chin in her hand as Kara’s face fills with color. She only hopes Kara doesn’t notice that Lena hasn’t answered a single question in the last twenty minutes.

“You know Lena, I think you’d really benefit from going out sometimes.”

Lena’s too distracted to notice Kara’s suggestion at first, her gaze still rampant on the features of her new friend. Only friend. Once the words settle in Lena straightens in her seat and clears her throat.

“Yes well, I don’t think there are many clubs that would welcome a Luthor.” Kara’s eyes soften at the self deprecation. Lena wants to be mad at the possible pity but her chest tightens at the very thought of creating a rift between her and Kara. She reminds herself she’s a Luthor. Luthor’s don’t get mad, they get even. But before she has a chance Kara’s expression changes from soft to enlightened and it nearly rocks Lena from her seat.

“That might be true, but there are plenty of clubs that welcome a Kara.” And she laughs, at her own joke

For a moment Lena can’t remember what she was suppose to be doing and ends up biting the inside of her cheek for the rest of the interview.

the audience culminates, they await my jokes, my playful jests

i stand at the microphone underneath several spotlights that make me feel as though i’m roasting alive. with bated breath, i am put on the hot seat

i clear my throat. it echoes throughout the confines of the auditorium. a thousand eyes are locked on my position. my next move is crucial

i lean into the mic, trying desperately to keep my breath from hitching in my throat,

“junkrat attends your liberal spoken word slam poetry hour at the local cafe and snaps whenever anyone mentions the wage gap”

Being Schoolmates w/ Kai
  • he hasn’t even come into the classroom yet and all of these girls are trying to clear any seat around them so Jongin will sit next to them
  • he walks in and deliberatly sits next to you
  • you don’t notice at first because you’re spacing out ready for class to start since it’s the last class of the day
  • you notice pretty quickly though because 90% of the girls are glaring daggers at you
  • he’s excited to get to know you because he finds you very attractive
  • he always asks you to eat lunch with him
  • bc you always eat lunch with him, you always walk to class with him
  • he always ends up staring at you in class and it makes you so flustered you can’t answer any questions the teacher asks you
  • Jongin’s uniform is always immaculate
  • like, he takes P.E. and when he comes out of the locker room, he still smells nice and his hair is still super nice and his tie is nicely tied and his uniform jacket is buttoned
  • he doesn’t smell like axe or some awful shit like that, he’s definetly classy
  • he’s very protective of you
  • there’s someone picking on you? not once Jongin hears about it
  • he high key low key is in love with you
  • he always wants to study at the library with you
  • he buys you coffee or tea or hot chocolate depending on your mood and he always buys you these gigantic sugar cookies with three layers of frosting covering them and another two layers of sprinkles or chocolate
  • he always says it’s sweet like you
  • you roll your eyes every single time
  • you always have to eat the food and drink whatever he’d gotten you outside of the library and the two of you end up claiming a bench just for the occasion
  • he does this just so he can spend more time with you
  • all these girls think he’s super sexy and you’re like “lol no, he’s a giant nerd”
  • he walks you home from school and always insists on carrying your backpack and you’re like “it’s fine, really, there are like three textbooks in there”
  • and he just says “all the more reason I should carry it”
  • like, he’s missing the point…
  • he has a heavy backpack as well…
  • but you don’t mind letting him carry your backpack in the end because it gives him an excuse to show off his muscular arms and you an excuse to admire them
  • you and him being the school couple everyone knows about and ships hardcore


  • One with frank where the reader is really insecure and frank kisses the reader every where explaining why their so beautiful with a lot of fluff/smut? Thank you ouo
  • Frank smut but where he is sappy and loves you so much but is also a little Dom because he needs/loves you so much? Love the blog!
  • Can I request a Frank smut where he’s all romantic and makes a lot of dirty talk, please? <3

The car ride was silent. Not the comfortable, peaceful silence that would fall between Frank and I after a long day. It was the awkward, not knowing what to say, shuffling in your seat and clearing your throat to make some noise type of silence. I kept my eyes transfixed out the window, watching the rain drops roll down the glass and blur the scenery around us. I could see Frank turn towards me out of the corner of my eye, opening his mouth before quickly shutting it and returning his attention back to the road.

I didn’t blame him, I had no clue what to say either.

Our first session of marriage counseling wasn’t as big of a success as we hoped for. It hurts enough to admit to yourself that you and your husband need to sit down with a therapist to stay together, and now returning home with no tension cleared was a slap in the face. It was most likely my fault. I didn’t want to see a counselor, I didn’t want to add another person into our problems, and maybe my denial that we needed help made me even more uncooperative to the counselor’s questions.

The main topic was our lack of intimacy, a big red flag in the buzzing world of marriage. Most people assume if your partner doesn’t want to sleep with you, there most be a problem. But there wasn’t a problem for me, or nothing that an hour session with a stranger and a tape recorder could cure. I kept my arms folded and muttered the same phrase I’ve told Frank countless times recently every time the lady asked me why we haven’t been sexually active.

“I was tired.”

We entered the house quietly, shrugging off our damp coats and hanging them near the door. I went to the kitchen, searching through the fridge for something quick to heat up for dinner. A pair of arms circled around my waist, pulling me into a tight embrace.

“Frank?” I murmured in surprise, feeling his head rest on my shoulder. He didn’t respond, nuzzling his head towards my neck. I sighed quietly, running my fingers through his short tuffs of hair.This was the closest thing to intimate we’ve been in weeks.  

“Please talk to me,” he said suddenly, voice soft yet firm. I swallowed dryly, feeling unwanted emotions burn my throat and pool in my eyes. I didn’t want to talk about it, I just wanted to pretend none of this was happening and we were still as giddy and in love like we were when we first met. I eased out of his touch, grabbing left overs from last night and heading towards the microwave. “Y/N,” Frank huffed, leaning against the counter with his head low. “I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to help if you won’t talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I muttered. “We’re fine.”

“No, we’re not,” he said firmly. He rubbed his temples in frustration, screwing his eyes shut. “What happened to us?“

“Can we talk about this in the morn-”

“No, don’t start with that again. We’re talking about this right now Y/N.”

I groaned and turned around to face him. “Fine Frank, what’s the problem.”

“I should be asking you that. You’ve been shutting me out for weeks now and I have no fucking clue why. Did I do something? Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

“No, God no.” I let out a shaky breath, running my fingers through my hair. “Frank, this is stupid. I love you.”

“Really? ‘Cause it feels like you hate me,” he scorned, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

“I don’t hate you, you dumb ass. I hate myself.”

My hand clasped over my mouth as Frank’s dropped, looking at me incredulously. “What?”

My head shot down, avoiding his sympathetic gaze. “I love you Frank, I love you so much, but I can barely look at myself in the mirror, let alone get naked in front of you. If I can’t myself attractive, how the hell are you going to?”

“Is that what’s wrong? You think I’m not attracted to you?” He walked towards me, lacing our fingers together. “Hey, look at me. I love you Y/N, you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and you always will be. Don’t you ever think otherwise, okay?”

I smiled brightly, leaning forward to brush our lips together. I felt his lips curl up in his signature goofy smile as he kissed back eagerly. His hands rested on my hips, running up and down my sides. He broke the kiss, resting our foreheads together. “Wanna take this party upstairs?”

“One kiss and you’re already trying to get back in my pants,” I giggled, giving his shoulder a light shove. 

“I’m serious though,” he chuckled, tightening his grip on my waist. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

I simply nodded, letting him carry me with both arms and lead me to the bedroom. He sets me down on the bed, attaching our lips together as his fingers tease the hem of my shirt. As soon as the shirt is over my head and flung towards the corner of my room, his nimble fingers work on the hooks of my bra.

He tosses the bra aside, he pulls away, gazing at me with such intensity and incomprehensible feelings in his eyes that I shy away from him, bringing my hands up to cover yourself.

“No,” he growls, catching my wrists in his hands. Keeping my arms at my sides, his gaze feeds hungrily on my body, so openly gawking that my face flushes a deep red. He releases my arms, hands coming up to gently cradle my face. “Let me show you,” he whispers. “Let me prove to you that you’re more than beautiful, you’re more than pretty. Let me show you what you do to me. Let me make you feel how you’ve made me feel everyday since we fell in love.” Frank murmurs, tracing the outline of my lip with the pad of his thumb. 

I gaze wondrously into his eyes, pondering why he would even want to touch me, let alone crave it, but his tone is pleading, and his eyes are big and round. Shocked, I slowly nod my head, and Frank lets loose the biggest smile I’ve seen him wear in weeks. Almost immediately, his shirt is on the ground, swiftly joined by his pants, and then i’m in his arms, being smothered with kisses.

Frank leans against the headboard, placing me in his lap. I gasp as I sit down, coming into contact with the bulge in his boxers, one already hardened to a most admirable size. His lips find my neck, planting few warm kisses before trailing further and further down. I involuntarily moan when his lips abruptly meet my nipple, gasping again as his tongue lashes out and around, out and around. When he feels he’s done his job and done it well, he moves to my other breast, repeating the process. As he occupies himself, I find myself gently grinding down on him, panties now soaking. His hand travels down my stomach, coming to a rest with his fingers just barely above the waistband. I grind into him harder and he moans into my neck, hand taking the plunge into my underpants.

His fingers skim over my clit, warm and inviting. I push myself down on his hand, and he begins to rub my clit, gently at first and gradually increasing in pressure and speed until he is furiously working away, breathing hard into my neck. I grind myself down on his hand, wanting more, needing more, and he inserts a finger. I gasp his name into his shoulder, and he adds another finger, and other finger. He quickly picks up speed, fingers curling, reaching that one spot he knows better than anyone else.

“Frankie,” I cry, riding his fingers. I pull myself up and down, nearing my high. I bring your teeth down on his shoulder, just barely grazing, but enough for him to know what’s coming next.

He pulls his fingers out immediately, earning him a whimper, and flips me over so he’s on top. He leaves a trail of kisses down to my stomach, then decides to take his time. “So gorgeous,” he mumbles against my skin. My fingers curl into his short black hair, tightening when ever his lips leave a wet kiss along my chest. "Did I ever tell you how much I love your stomach?” He rasps, tracing patterns under my navel with his tongue. “So soft.” I blush deeply as he peppers me with kisses. My breathing is labored as he slips a finger under my panties, teasing and then finally pleasing. I hear my underwear hit the floor, the noise accompanied by fierce, burning pleasure. His tongue, warm and rough, working the magic he promised me. My back arches and one hand laces through his short hair, keeping him as close as possible, while the other tangles in the bed sheets. One of his large, calloused hands massages my thigh, the other rests on my stomach, fingers splayed. My breath comes in short, quick pants, caused by the man whose head is buried between my legs.

“Babe,” I breathe out, a familiar tickle building in your stomach. “I’m going to….I’m about to….ooh” I feel myself tighten around him, jaw dropping open as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over me, leaving me empty when it’s done.

A smirking Frank pulls back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, and crawls over me.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see that face from that angle,” he declares, nibbling on my earlobe.

He lowers himself down onto me, rutting his hard on against my inner thigh.

“Frank,” I whimper as he rubs himself against my entrance, teasing.

“Yes, love?” He answers, his voice think with lust and amusement.

“I..I need you,” I gulp, “now.”

He grins from ear to ear, pulling my body close to his and thrusting in smoothly. I cry out, gripping onto his shoulder blades for support. Frank kisses the side of my neck, thrusting slowly and deeply. He holds onto a slow pace, accompanying each thrust with a tender kiss on the lips. 

“Faster,” I breathe, struggling to get the word out.

Unaccustomed to my demands, brings his head up in shock. “What?”

“Frankie, go faster,” I repeat. “Please.”

For the millionth time that night, he grins, burying his head in my shoulder and granting my wish. He slams in and out quickly, groaning and grunting as his orgasm approaches. His hand snakes between our bodies, and he rubs circles on my clit, kicking up my pleasure. Sucking fiercely on my neck, he throws my leg over his shoulder, pushing into me deeper than before. My vision begins to blur and my mouth starts to form an O, digging my nails deeper into his shoulders. My head falls back when my orgasm comes, screaming his name over and over again. Not soon after, he stiffens himself, gasping my name into the side of my neck. We both collapse, completely spent and utterly satisfied. His arms wrap around me, pulling me into his chest.

“Now, what did we learn today?” He teases.

“Talk about our feelings instead of hiding them,” I scoff, rolling my eyes at him. He giggles loudly, pecking my lips.

“I guess I can cancel our next session now.”

Vogue 1968
Seated on clear plastic chairs atop Switzerland’s glacier de la Rosablanche; one model wearing Ernst Engel ski suit with an Adolfo fur hat; the second model wearing Rudi Gernreich for Harmon Knitwear ski pants and matching ribbed top. Photo by Arnaud de Rosnay

anonymous asked:

Fluffy Guzma? <3

(Pokémon isn’t on the list, buuuuut I’ll try it anyway!)

Normally, he would be upset at another person in his throne. It’s his throne, and the team needs to respect that. But not now. Right now, he’s too tired to yell and scream more; the rest of the mansion has already taken all of his frustration out of him.

“You need to move,” Guzma grumbled. That sly smirk said no moving necessary. “Get up,” he growled, trying to muster the last vestiges of his aggression to clear his seat. Still nothing. Guzma dropped onto his knees and laid his head across warm thighs. “Fine. Just hold still then.”

When Guzma woke up, the sun had already set and there were dark shadows scattered across the room. Guzma’s head still hadn’t left his love’s lap. He took it in slowly: the fingers in his hair, playing with the strands; the faint hum of a song they had heard on the radio last week; and the fact that he was still in the same place, the same position. He laid a kiss to the thigh his head was directly under. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he crooned. “Was it good for you too?”

anonymous asked:

when does the box office start filling seats and reallocating for comps, etc.? i like to buy last minute because my plans are always changing but it's hard sometimes because the inventory just disappears all of a sudden and it's clear those 75 great seats were not just purchased. so like what's the last minute safe zone to buy tickets before the box office starts getting rid of the seats in other ways?

It varies theater to theater. I’d guess most will close their online ticket sales the afternoon of the performance, so they have time to print and organize everything. With that in mind, I’d look for tickets to be released late the night before or in the morning the day of the performance. 

When in doubt, call the theater to book tickets. Box office staff are incredibly helpful in these situations. I spent too much time with a very patient box office staffer from PS122 once, plotting the best way to get tickets for a sold-out performance. And if it’s feasible, just going to the theater an hour or so before to get yourself on a wait list. Especially for smaller shows, they want to get you in there. Theaters WANT to be sold out. So if you can, it’s probably worth your in-person wait.

anonymous asked:

Existential cycles going on and on in deep red and blue through a whole universe of inky black silk, which we all know is the pupil of the giant eye that is everywhere like the spaces between our fingers - now nothing matters, I saw you in my dreams and I saw you once - curly hair sliding by -now mind is clear, please take a seat at my redwood chair because I see all the colors bursting from you.

I am happy you are writing, stay bright-eyed! There is a star!
Maybe even start reading more poetry and prose and learn different meters and structures, the ways that lines start and stop, and gain a sensitivity to rhythm. :-) Xx

Don’t Be Late

(based on this post) for hamletsmyman

Are second dates supposed to not be punctual? Is this some kind of memo he’s missed out on? Have you reached that point in the relationship where you can show up casually late and have it be acceptable? Steve’s still relatively new to the whole dating game, but he’s pretty sure that being ten minutes late to the second date is a little fishy. Especially since he himself got to the restaurant fifteen minutes early. 

He shifts in his seat, clearing his throat a little as he looks around the restaurant. It’s Valentine’s Day, of all the fuckin’ days in the year. The whole joint is littered with lovesick couples, all making goo-goo eyes at each other from across their tables. Which only makes Steve stick out like a sore thumb even more. 

“Would you like another glass of water, sir?” The waitress asks, flittering by for the second time since she’s seated him. 

“Ah, yeah, sure…that’d be great,” Steve replies, his voice coming out a little scratchy as he offers up his glass. He gives the waitress a kind smile as she departs again. 

He checks his iPhone, clicking it on only to see the screen devoid of messages, the background picture of his golden retriever last fourth of July glowing back up at him. He purses his lips and swipes his lock screen open.

He’s late, Steve shoots off the text. The reply is immediate. 

By only fifteen minutes. Maybe he got caught in traffic? comes Natasha’s supportive reply. 

Steve’s thumbs twiddle with a few different replies, but he ultimately ends up stuffing his phone back into his jacket pocket without a response. God, he’d really dressed up for this date, too. A sharp navy blue suit and jacket, a little extra cologne, the whole nine yards. Granted, it’s only the second time he’s seeing the guy, but he thought the first date went pretty well. Well enough for them to agree to meet at one of New York’s fanciest restaurants on the most romantic day of all days.

When the waitress returns with his water, she gives him a hesitant look before asking, “Are you ready to order, or…”

“He’s…he’s coming,” Steve replies hastily, gesturing towards the empty chair at the end of the small table. It seems pathetically deserted under the dim candlelight. “Could I just have a little more time?” 

The waitress looks like she’s torn between asking him to leave (this is Valentine’s Day, after all, and people are surely waiting to eat at this very table) and giving him the most sympathetic hug of all time, but she concedes with a “Yeah. I’ll be back in a few.” 

“Thank you,” Steve sighs, and as soon as she leaves, he buries his head in his hands with a groan. It’s been almost twenty minutes by this point. Maybe twenty-five. He’s afraid to check his watch again. 

Steve looks up through his fingers, glancing through the wide windows of the restaurant. Out on the sidewalk, people walk past, huddled together, laughing and smiling. But there’s nobody that he recognizes. 

He’s not coming. Dammit. He’s going to be stood up, isn’t he?

“Sir?” The waitress asks again with mild impatience, sneaking up on him, and Jesus, hasn’t it only been like, a few seconds at most? 

Steve swallows just a little nervously, his foot subconsciously tapping under the table. He looks all around him, catching the eye of more than a few patrons. Their eyes all quickly dart back down to their food, or back to their table mates. A few shoot him awkward, apologetic smiles before looking away. 

Shit. He’s becoming a spectacle. A goddamn oddity. 

“Just a few more minutes?” Steve asks, grimacing at the waitress, “Please?”

“I’m sorry sir, I’ve already waited almost forty minutes,” - Forty minutes!? - “and we have other people who are ready to eat here…”

Steve’s heart drops to his stomach. It’s going to be a long and lonely walk back to the front of the restaurant. He looks down at his empty plate again, placing his hands on the table on either side of it as if bracing himself. And then…

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May 4th 1939
In his first-ever at-bat in the city of Detroit, Boston rookie Ted Williams becomes the first player to hit a homer which totally clears the right field seats at Briggs Stadium. The prodigious poke proves to be the difference when the Red Sox edge the Tigers, 7-6.
From nationalpasttime

Such Great Heights

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Word Count: 1168

Characters: Reader, Castiel, Sam, Dean, Gabriel

Warnings: fluff

Theme Song: Such Great Heights by the Postal Service

Summary: Request from @x-compendiums-of-castiel-x : Can you write an imagine where Cas has fallen in love with reader and he talks to Sam and Dean but afterwards he still doesn’t really know what to do. Reader has been in love with him ever since she met him and so Gabriel gets involved to get the two together.  

There will be a Part 2.

Castiel stood in front of Sam and Dean blocking their view of the bunker television. Dean groaned in annoyance, but Sam smile kindly at the angel and asked him if anything was wrong. Cas sighed in self defeat, taking a seat on the coffee table, facing the brothers. Dean recognizes the pained expression on his angel friend, straighten up in his seat, clearing his throat, “Cas, what’s going on man?” The angel looks up from his lap, meeting the two pair of eyes staring back at him. “How do you tell someone you have fallen in love with them?” Dean laughs with his whole body, clutching his stomach. Sam nudges him hard in the ribs, although he too is slightly amused at the angel’s dilemma, he knew better then to laugh.  Dean’s laughter quickly subdues, but a smirk remains on his face. He ask Cas who he was in love with. Castiel nearly panics, quickly getting up and telling the Winchesters to forget it. But Sam jumps up from his seat on the couch and grabs a hold of the angel’s shoulders. He turns Castiel around, the angel is clearly uncomfortable. “Sorry Cas, Dean’s an idiot. It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” Sam’s observation is completely on point, Castiel’s silence only answers the young Winchesters question. Castiel can’t contain the smile that wants to form when he hears your name slip from Sam’s lips. It was never the angel’s intention to fall in love, let alone with the women, the Winchesters had grown close to.

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Misjudged (Head) Covers

So I just had a transfer on transit where I switched from the bus to the train. I was sitting on the bench waiting for the train to arrive, and an old white lady comes by who is also waiting for the train. I smile at her and pick up my bag, clearing the seat next to me so she can sit down. She stands there, looks at the seat, then looks at my turban, and kirpan, glares at me and walks over to the next bench to sit next to a (surprise surprise) white man.

This has happened before so I don’t think too much of it and continue doing my readings. A few minutes later I hear a voice shrieking, “GIVE ME BACK MY PURSE!!!” I looked over to see who it was.

It was the old white lady chasing after the guy she had just sat next to…

Lecture (pt. 2)

part 1

part 3

You rushed through the building, already off to a bad start thanks to a faulty alarm clock and your own messed up sleep schedule. Granted, you were headed to your favorite class. You had always enjoyed the class, even before you started fucking the insanely handsome professor.

You opened the door, hoping to be as stealthy as possible since you hated being the center of attention.

“Alright, so I want everyone to try and read it at least twice so that…” He trailed off, his hazely green eyes following you as you took your seat. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “I just totally forgot what I was saying. Probably wasn’t important anyways. Uh.. work time for the rest of the period.”

A tiny smile tugged at your lips as you organized your materials. It was still a shock that he was as into you as you were into him. You looked up from your notebook, only to meet his eyes. Only he could smirk like that and still seem somehow innocent, even when it was so clear exactly what he was thinking at the moment. You bit your lip without even thinking about it, growing heated under his scrutiny.

The rest of the class dragged as it always did. You could think of nothing but kissing those perfect plump lips of his. And yeah, that was a pretty normal thought for you. But now, you could actually do it. It still seemed so unreal, all of it. More like something that would happen in a cheesy romance novel.

It had become ritual for you to meet him in his office after all the students had left. He was waiting for you with open arms. Arms that were so delightfully muscular.

“Well hello, gorgeous.” He greeted you as you wrapped your arms around him. You snuggled into his familiar chest, making a quiet contented sound.

“You’re not even going to scold me for being late?” You teased, planting tiny kisses along his strong jawline. “People might think you’re playing favorites.”

“Mm. I am though.” He purred, a hand finding its’ way to your backside while he gave you a slow kiss. He tasted sweet, of coffee with far too much sugar in it. Or maybe it was just enough sugar, you decided.

You pulled back, beaming at him without realizing it. You gently pushed him back to his office swivel chair. “Sit.”

“Ooh. Babe you know I love it when you get all dominant like that.” He grinned his approval, taking your hand and kissing his way up your arm.

“Shh.” You laughed, silencing him with a peck as you carefully climbed atop his lap, straddling him. Just the way he looked at you sent shivers through your body. Everything with him was so intense, all or nothing. Your little trysts with him always left you wanting more, the man was downright addictive.

“You know, Y/N, I could get you in trouble for being insubordinate.” He quipped back, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“You won’t though.” You said confidently.

“And why not?”

“This.” You rolled your hips against him, eliciting a seriously pained groan from him. You could feel him hardening even more between your legs. “Let’s take care of this, hm?”

“Fuck yes.” He responded, his body already tense.

“Eager, are we?” You teased, freeing his erect member from his pants. You gave him a few tentative strokes, enjoying just how stiff he was.

“Always for you.”

And of course, just when things were about to get especially dirty, what sounded suspiciously like footsteps rang through the air. You both exchanged terrified looks as you scrambled off of him.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” He repeated, looking around desperately for some kind of out. “Quick, under the desk.”

You quickly maneuvered yourself to hide beneath the desk, equal parts horrified and still horny. He had managed to tuck himself back in just in time. The door to his office opened and light footsteps entered.

“Oh, it’s you.” He said, so unmoved you could almost hear him rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s great to see you too Dean.” Came a male voice.

You concluded this must be the brother he had. It seemed like hours had passed and they were just bickering about literally everything. Alright, so maybe only a few minutes had passed, but it was agonizing. Agonizing to be sitting here, thighs pressed together, Dean’s rigid cock still outlined by his pants. He just looked way too delicious right now.

And then an idea came to you. A completely terrible, wonderful idea.

He jumped slightly when you touched him, but other than that no reaction. You began to work at his pants, as silently as you could, once more his erection sprang free.

You ran your tongue along your lips in preparation, leaning forward to lick him from base to tip sensually and slowly.

“Come on Sam, it’s really not my fault that- Oh fuck!”

It took everything in you to not laugh, he was too cute. And this was really evil. But also really turning you on.

“Dean? You okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I just.. um.. Stubbed my toe.. on my desk.. Yeah.” He stammered, spouting complete bullshit. Was that really the best he could think of?

“Okay… Well, it kind of is your fault, Dean. My laptop didn’t have all those viruses until after you used it.”

You took this small gap in conversation to lean in and lap at the precum gathered on his velvety, sensitive tip. He made a small strangled sound in response. You were loving this. You began gently kneading his balls, before taking one into your mouth experimentally and sucking.

God! Er.. God, Sam I’m really sorry.”

“You.. are?”

“Yeah! Of course. Very sorry.”

“Are you really alright Dean? You’re sweating..”

“I’m fine.” He insisted, although his voice was unusually high.

He kicked you lightly, eliciting a silent laugh from you, trying desperately not to alert his brother of your presence. What you would give to see his face right now.. It was now you took as much of him into your mouth as you could, bobbing your head at an excruciatingly slow pace. You squeezed his thighs as you did this, wanting him to be unable to ignore you even if he wanted to.

“Alright.. I’d appreciate it if you at least covered half the repair costs.”

You could feel him throbbing inside your mouth, and it wouldn’t be long now, you knew this for sure. You took this chance to try and deep throat him as much as you could, quickening your pace for him. He came explosively into your mouth, simultaneously slamming a fist down on his desk. You swallowed reflexively, although this was way more than you were used to. You could hear him breathing heavily.

“I’ll.. I’ll pay all of it.” Dean stammered, gripping the edge of his desk with otherwise shaky hands. You gently righted him, putting his softening cock away and fixing his pants to the best of your abilities.

“Now I know for sure something is definitely wrong.. Just call me later when you are feeling better.”

And at last, the sound of retreating footsteps. Dean pushed his chair back so that you could finally get up. You rose from the floor, sporting a devilishly proud smile.

“That was… Damn. You little minx.” He teased, scooping you into his arms to cuddle you close once more. “I wanna say never do that again.. But I kinda loved that.”

“I’m glad then.” You said with a relieved sigh, nuzzling his neck.

“You’ll have to let me return the favor.”

“I can’t today. My Psych class starts soon.”

“So? Skip it.” He said with a shrug, holding you so tight you probably wouldn’t have been able to leave even if you’d desired to.

“You’re a bad influence, Professor.” You responded, shaking your head. “But I can’t say no to you.”

“Great!” He exclaimed, “Let’s get you back to my place then, so we don’t have any more interruptions.”

The two of you scurried to his car, trying to avoid others as much as possible. As always, the sight of his car was amazing.

“God, I love this car.” You sighed dreamily, admiring the black Impala.

“You’d better. I’m not sure if I could be with you if you didn’t.” He said, and you were unable to tell if he were serious or not. Still, it got you thinking, what exactly was the nature of your relationship with him?

Once you were both inside, he started her up. Instantaneously, Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” came pouring through the speakers. He simply shot you his usual look, dripping with self confidence.

“Very funny.” You said with a wry smile.

It was your turn to surprise him, you started singing along with the chorus, thankful you actually knew this one. Just the look on his face was amazing.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any sexier.” He said, appraising you with his eyes once more. “I’m a lucky man to have you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Dean.” You blurted the words, regretting them as soon as you said them. Shit. You weren’t supposed to let him know just how much you had grown attached to him, especially since he seemed to fear emotional commitment.

“Y/N..” He said quietly, trailing his fingers down your arm before settling at your hand, taking it in his own and squeezing it. “Love you too.”

Study Buddies || Klaroline

Desperate for access to a required textbook, Caroline proposes a crazy plan to share one with a classmate she just met. When too-suave art major Klaus gets offered an odd arrangement from an engaging blonde, how can he say no?

Doodling in his notebook, Klaus sighed in boredom. The professor was still setting up her presentation, and his classmates looked just as enthused as he was. The only excitement came when the lecture hall door banged open, a frazzled blonde making her way down the center aisle.

Struck by the long legs shaped nicely by her high heels, Klaus quickly cleared the seat next to him in hopes that the girl would take it. When she did, he was surprised that she was already talking.

“I swear, my advisor is trying to kill me,” she said, frantically pulling out an intimidating binder full of colored folders and calendars. “She emails me this morning, saying I needed to switch my major-relative elective, and that Greek Philosophy is the only applicable section left.

"It’s changed my entire schedule, let alone my study plans and work preferences, and she treats it like it’s a simple switch in professors,” the blonde rambled, rooting around her bag for something. “Like, no, there is a reason I met with her two months ago to meticulously plan out this semester. It was to meticulously plan out this semester!”

Looking over, she must have seen Klaus’s gaping mouth, unsure of what to say. “And I must sound like a lunatic,” she said, chagrined. “I’m a little out of sorts as a last minute addition to the class. I’m Caroline.”

“Klaus,” he answered, finally finding words. “You haven’t missed anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. We just covered the syllabus last week, and there wasn’t anything else but what you can read from the paper yourself.”

“Good,” Caroline sighed in relief. “I haven’t even picked up the textbook yet, which is so unlike me. I like to be prepared, and I am clearly not that.”

“I wouldn’t worry, love,” he said charmingly. “You can share mine if need be.” It wasn’t the smoothest flirt he had ever tried, but the pink blush overtaking Caroline’s cheeks told him it wasn’t the worst attempt either.

“Thanks,” she whispered back, the professor already trying to garner the class’s attention. Caroline had her full attention turned to the front of the class, pen poised and ready to learn.

Shaking his head at the sight, Klaus turned to face the front, too.

“Alright, everyone,” the professor started. “I’m Dr. Sommers, and this is Greek Philosophy 3200. If you haven’t bought the textbook for this class yet, I am sorry to tell you that the bookstore is out of stock. As it is a reader of articles I compiled only available at the bookstore, I’m going to recommend those of you without make friends with those who were slightly more prepared than you.”

Eyes wide in horror, Caroline faced Klaus. “I don’t suppose that offer to share your book stands for the whole semester, does it?”

Grinning wide, dimples deceptively innocent, Klaus just said, “We can talk after class.” He ignored Caroline’s annoyed expression, despite the strange delight he felt at the sight, in favor of Dr. Sommers and her lecture.

Keep reading

Harley sat in her car, the back seat was clear as she laid in it, tears streaming down her cheeks as she felt her stomach churn again. Her work had sent her home because she couldn’t stop running to the bathroom. Which meant she lost out on money that day, leaving her emotional distraught in her car. Turning to face the back seat she closed her eyes. Taking a shaky breath. Shivering slightly as she wrapped her blanket around her. She was scared to go back to Parker’s after finding out, she barely even answered his texts. After it all happened she was certain he saw her differently no matter how much he reassured her. So she closed off like she did best. Finding escape in her little home.

apparently the priority seats for pregnant women have been changed in the seoul metro lines 2-5 (starting end of july) to make it more clear which seats should be reserved for expecting moms. i’m a little meh on the pink ;) but i suppose it gets the job done!