continuous lean

Federal judge blocks Texas attempt to defund Planned Parenthood

  • On Tuesday, a federal judge blocked Texas from withholding Medicaid funds from Planned Parenthood.
  • The judged ruled that the state had not provided sufficient evidence in support of its claim that the health care provider traffics in baby parts.
  • According to the AP, U.S. District Court Judge Sam Sparks of Austin, Texas, reasoned that, in continuing to lean on those doctored 2015 sting videos as proof that Planned Parenthood is operating nefariously and illegally, Texas failed to offer credible evidence that the health care provider had actually done anything wrong. Read more (2/22/17 8:22 AM)
Yuanfen - Part 7

Characters - Bucky x Reader, OFC (Tesla @bovaria)

Word Count - 1909

Warnings - None

A/N - Idk dude. New charater, YAY! I’m not prepared to write the next part is2g. Please dont hesitant to tell me what you think! This is an AU. 缘分 (Yuanfen) is a Chinese word that has no direct English translation and (roughly) means “A relationship that is brought together by a force such as destiny or fate.“

Yuanfen Masterlist

You walked out the room with Bucky on your heels, pulling the door closed just fast enough for him to stop. Doing the only thing you could think of, you held the handle tightly with all your bodyweight shifted in the opposite direction. Though you were putting everything that you had into the action, the doorknob still turned within your grasp. With struggled groans, you continued to lean away as Bucky pulled the door open. Your feet slid across the wooden flooring until you were inside the room, right in front of the one person you didn’t want to see.

“Did you just try to lock me,” he paused, a smirk tugging at his lips as you straightened your stance, “in my own room?”

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Originally posted by characterquests

Summary: You can Enoch aren’t exactly in an official relationship and with Jake having arrived, he believes that he’s going to lose you to the younger man. One night, he decides to show you how much you mean to him.

Warning: hella smutty

“Hey y/n! Want to play football with us?”

You looked up from your book, finding Millard standing there, a football in his hands.

“Don’t bother Millard,” Hugh said, coming up behind him. “She obviously wants to spend time with Enoch.”

He nodded towards the boy sitting next to you. For a moment, you’d forgotten that you’d even come outside with him.

“I think I’m going to continue reading,” you replied, leaning back on the tree trunk. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Okay,” Millard said, walking away with Hugh.

Turning back to your book, you resumed the silence that you had originally been in, the soft clink of Enoch’s tools coming up every so often.

“Y/n!” you heard your name being called again. You looked up to see Jake making his way over, Emma following behind him at a distance.

“Someone’s popular,” you heard Enoch mutter, to which you could only roll your eyes.

“Hey Jake,” you said. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go on a walk or something. Just the two of us,” he said, kneeling down in front of me.

Enoch’s head immediately flew up, sending Jake a glare, which he skillfully ignored.

“I… um…” you thought about it. You and Jake were the youngest ones here, you having come only a year ago. You wanted to know what had happened in the last year that you had missed out on, but he always spent his free time with Emma.

“Sure,” you said, finally.

“What?” asked Enoch, surprised and a lit bit angry.

“Jake and I are going to go on a walk,” you said, simply. Getting up, you dusted off your skirt and put your book in the belt of your dress.

You couldn’t help but notice Enoch’s glare as the two of you left towards the home.


On your walk around the island, you and Jake talked about anything and everything that had happened in the past year. Apparently, several people died, which was unfortunate, but that’s how life worked.

Coming back to the home, the sun was just about to set and you and Jake hurried inside for supper. Quickly getting into the dining room, you searched for a seat. There was one next to Jake, and you grabbed the chair, claiming it as your own. Emma glared at you as you sat down, while she took your regular seat next to Enoch.


After dinner, you had excused yourself to your room to freshen up. In the bathroom, you slashed yourself in the face a few times with water, waking you up a little bit. Wiping your face off on your sleeve, you went to your room to put your book away. You almost screamed when you saw Enoch sitting on your bed, diligently waiting.

“Enoch!” you exclaimed, loudly. “What are you doing here?”

“What were you doing with Jake?” he asked, getting up to meet you near the door.

“We went on a walk,” you said, throwing the book on your bed. “Nothing special. What’s got you angry now?”

“Maybe it’s because my girlfriend spent two hours alone with some guy that we’ve known for two days!” Enoch exclaimed.

You quickly closed the door behind you, knowing that the entire house just heard.

“Enoch,” you said, quietly. “Don’t you trust me?”

His eyes softened a bit. “Of course I trust you, y/n,” he said.

Your stare was hard and cold. “Then you should trust me to be around Jake. He’s no different than Hugh or Millard!”

“Jake is different,” he said, leaning against the door, listening to see if there were any children listening to your fight.

“How?” you asked, angrily.

“He’s from your time, y/n!” Enoch exclaimed, returning the hostility. “If it weren’t for this bloody loop, I would’ve been dead by the time you were born!”

You were quiet. You knew it was true. Enoch was a staggering 95 years older than you, which is something that you never put much thought into until now.

“You can leave the loop,” Enoch said quietly. “You can leave with him.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “And why would I leave?”

He shrugged, kicking the door. “There’s so much more in the future. You even have a family there.”

“I’m not going to leave you Enoch,” you said, holding his hand.

“That’s what Abe said to Emma, and look at what happened,” Enoch said coldly, pulling his hand away from your own.

He pulled open the door to find Hugh, Millard, Olive, and Emma standing on the other side; probably having listened to the whole ordeal.

Enoch muttered something under his breath as he pushed past them and went into his room, his door slamming hard. You took in a shaky breath as the others looked at you with concern.

“Aren’t we supposed to be watching movies?” you asked.


As soon as Horace’s dreams were over, you quickly made your way upstairs to your bedroom. You changed into some nightwear and got into bed. There was a part of you that just wanted to cry, it was horrible. You took some shaky breaths to calm yourself down, pulling the sheets closer to your face. Your eyes were closed and you tried to get some sleep, but it was no use. It was around a half hour later when you heard Miss Peregrine go into her room, signalling the end of any activity in the house. You rolled over in bed again, trying to find a comfortable position. Every part of you wanted to sneak over to Enoch’s room and to stay with him for the night, like you always did when you couldn’t sleep; but you couldn’t tonight. Not after what happened.

As you finally felt yourself falling asleep, you could hear footsteps in the hallway; it was probably someone looking to get some water. You rolled around again, your back facing the door. Your door began to creak as it opened and closed; it was probably Miss Peregrine checking on you. The footsteps were now in your room, and you could feel the side of your bed dip as someone sat on it. Enoch.

“I’m sorry y/n,” he whispered, grabbing your hand in his own.

You rolled over to look at him. “Enoch,” you said quietly. “I’m not going to leave you. I’d never do that to you; I love you too much.”

Enoch looked shocked. This was the first time you’d ever said I love you to him.

“I love you too,” he said, pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Good,” you giggled, pecking him on the lips.


You two looked at each other for a moment before he brought you in for another kiss, this one different than the rest. This one was needy and hungry, like you might disappear if he stopped. He held himself on top of you, still kissing you. His hand ran through your hair before coming down across your chest, gently massaging your breast over your shirt.

You let out a shaky moan as he continued to kiss down your neck, almost immediately finding your sweet spot.

“Enoch,” you let his name slip out of your mouth in almost a whisper and you could feel him smirk against your neck and he continued, your whines and moans serving as motivation to go on.

His hand eventually made its way to the hem of your shirt, tugging at it.

“This has got to come off,” muttered against your lips.

You pulled it off, tossing it across the room. Enoch smiled as he took you in, tonight was a good night to not be wearing a bra.

“Fucking hell y/n,” he said, quickly pulling off his shirt and tossing it next to yours.

He reconnected your lips, gently grinding his hips into yours. You could feel his hard-on through your pajama bottoms. He let out a soft groan at the contact, his kisses becoming rougher.

He broke your kiss and began placing small kisses down your torso, stopping at the waistband on your bottoms. He looked at you for permission to continue, you nodded, your breathing heavy. He yanked them down along with your underwear, leaving you completely nude. He quickly stood up, pulling off his boxers. You blushed red, covering your face with your hands. Enoch laughed, pulling your hands away from your face.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, his hand cupping your face as he positioned himself above you.

You nodded, giving him a soft kiss. He smiled, kissing your cheek as he pushed himself in. His face immediately dropped to your neck. You could hear him moan into your hair as he pulled himself out, only to push back in.

His forehead rested on yours as he continued to thrust into you, every time better than the last. Your hands cupped his face, causing him to look at you. There were small beads of sweat dripping down his forehead as he got closer to finishing. You could feel the knot in your stomach begin to tighten.

“Enoch,” you whimpered. “I think gonna - ”

“Me too love,” he whispered. “We’re going to have to be quiet.”

In a matter of thrusts, you felt yourself let go, biting onto Enoch’s shoulder to stop you from shouting. Enoch quickly finished after, letting out a series of grunts and curses as he did so.

“That was bloody amazing.”

You nodded in response, smiling as he pulled you closer to him. And for the first time that night, you could feel yourself finally falling asleep.


Hey there! I hope you enjoyed this Enoch imagine. I’m pretty new at smut, so I apologise if you cringe every time. I thought I’d cover as many different situations as possible, and that does mean smut. Practice makes perfect, and I’ll make it there eventually. Thanks for reading! Stay peculiar! <3

Imagine Sasuke trying to explain something to Naruto and giving him that calm, patient look as he waits for Naruto to understand before he continues.

Imagine Naruto leaning in to kiss him most times because he can’t help how adorable his gay boyfriend is, also because his heart swells when he realizes he is worth Sasuke’s patience.

There Is No Easy Way

The Spring Day was released today! I absolutely adored it, but I couldn’t help but notice something that has caused many Hobi biased folks heartbreak since.  (As someone who’s Hobi biased myself, I empathize.)  And I really, honestly, wanted to write about anything else, but this wouldn’t leave my head.

Parts: 1, 2, 3

“So, we have a bit of a problem.”

The group was gathered around a table, sat with one of their producers, PDogg.  The man wore a grim expression and it caused the room to be filled with a heavy silence.  Even after he’d prompted the start of the conversation, none of the boys spoke.

Finally, Namjoon, seeing stepping up as part of his role as leader, gave a nearly imperceptible clearing of his throat and asked, “What’s going on?”

“It’s Spring Day,” answered PDogg.  “It’s just not flowing right the way it is right now.”

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Of Angels and Christmas Lights

Cas can barely finish reading the last sentence before Maya turns the page, eager to find out how the story will end. She doesn’t let him continue, though. She leans forward to point to the winged and haloed figure hovering in the corner on the page.

“Do all angels have white dresses, papa?” she asks, turning her head to him.

“Uh—” Cas bites his lower lip, struggling to come up with a proper answer under her expectant stare. “No,” he decides, finally. “No, not all of them. Only those that like white dresses.”

Maya raises her hands. “But they aaaaaalways do!” she says, frustrated.

Cas narrows eyes at her, trying to figure out what the “always” refers to. As she shifts on top of his knees, he shuts the book around his index finger to– Oh, of course.

“Do you mean angels in your books?”

“Yes! And in television!” she explains. “And—and on a Christmas tree!”

“Christmas tree?” Cas repeats. “On television?”

“In Veronica’s house,” she corrects. “It’s so big—” she throws her hands up above her head, nearly punching Cas’s nose in the process—”up to the ceiling! And there’s a star on the top—a gold star and angels in white dresses and little lights. It’s sooo pretty!”

“I’m sure it is,” Cas says, using the occasion to change the topic. Explaining angels, and other creatures that to children and most people are fairy tales, without outright lying, is a balancing act that Cas is not very skilled at. “What color are the lights?”

“All colors,” Maya says, jumping off her papa’s knees. “Blue and red and yellow and they twinkle like this—” she opens and closes her palms and eyelids for the most accurate portrayal of twinkling Christmas lights—”and then faster!”

She involves her skipping feet and her head bobbing up and down in her presentation. Losing her balance, she sways to the side. Cas’s arms shoot forward and lock around her to ensure she doesn’t fall. As if encouraged, Maya starts jumping around, swinging to the sides, until Cas scoops her off her feet. He pulls her in, buries her face in her neck and leaves tickling kisses, drawing a salve of squeaky laughter from her mouth.

It takes her a moment to calm down and sit straight in Cas’s lap, but when she does, she doesn’t call for the book Cas abandoned beside him on the couch. Instead, she turns to him, head cocked to the side.

“Can we have a Christmas tree too?” she pleads with a sweet grin.

Cas sucks in a breath, but before he can say anything, the front door swings open and rattles shut.

“Dean!” Cas raises his voice, only slightly. He doesn’t have a heart to scold Dean for slamming the door when it’s the door that saved him from making up another awkward answer.

“Sorry!” comes a rasp from the entrance and Dean storms into the living room, snow falling off his shoulders and to the carpet.

His movements are sharp, steps rushed but firm on the floor. He’s anxious or angry, either way, it’s more than enough to alert Cas; his body tenses, hold tightens around Maya’s small form.

“What’s going on?”

Dean stops in his tracks, turns to them, hands thrown to the sides.

“Oh, I’m gonna tell you what’s going on,” he starts, tipping his chin.

All of the tension escapes Cas at once. Dean’s angry, yes, pissed, even. But Cas knows this tone too well and he knows what’s coming next.

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Flirt - Bart Allen x Reader

Prompt: “This. Never. Happened.” with Bart (requested by anon)

“You look cold. Want to use me as a blanket?” Bart flirted leaning closer to you. You rolled your eyes. His flirting was flattering but lately it had become relentless.

“I’m quite warm actually. I’ll pass.”

“If I follow you home, would you keep me?“ He continued along his list of cheesy pickup lines.

“We live in the same place, Bart.” You sighed.

“Alright, stop me if you’ve heard this one before, babe.” He started, leaning closer to you with his hands supporting his weight on the fountain behind you. “Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman walk into a bar -” Bart continued leaning closer to you. Before he could correct himself his balance slipped and he fell into the fountain. You burst into giggles at the shocked look on his face as he was submerged into the cold water.

“Are you alright?” You asked between your fits of giggling. You reached your hand out and helped him out of the fountain.

This. Never. Happened.” He said as he stepped out of the fountain and started to wring the water out of his clothes.

“Say Bart, are you shivering because of the water or is it because of anticipation?” You flirted, throwing a wink his way.

I Really Can’t Stay - Philip/Lukas NC-17

Summary: A snowstorm traps Philip at Lukas’ house for the night, and makes every want of his come true. | AO3

A/N: This isn’t really based on any certain episode, isn’t placed anywhere in the timeline, and is spoiler-free, so even if you aren’t caught up you should be able to read this no problem. Just two boys together in a snowstorm!! Thanks to Michele for reading this over beforehand!

“There’s no way they’ll let me.”

It’s said to the mirror, to the person in the reflection of the mirror, to Lukas, who is standing with his back against the bathroom door, blocking it from anyone who might try to come in.

“Don’t ask. Just sneak out.”

Philip continues to lean over the sink, still staring into the mirror, at himself and at the boy behind him, wanting so badly to say yes. “You want me to break Gabe and Helen’s trust, just so I can eat mac and cheese… with you?”

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The Goldilocks Zone

Becuase hey, if I can’t sleep, at least I can write!

“Sherlock, you’re my baby bear.”

Molly Hooper was drunk off her arse, but Sherlock responded to her as if she was as sober as he was. “Molly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She gazed up at him through eyes gone even bigger and browner than usual, absolutely shining with sincerity as she laid a hand on his arm and leaned forward…and continued leaning forward until he reached out with an alarmed exprssion on his face and helped her into a (relatively) upright position. “My baby bear,” she repeated, very slowly. “You know? Like inna fairly tale? Goldi Hawn anna three bears.” She raised her hand and held up four fingers, frowned, then grinned as she reached out with her other hand and tugged the pinky finger down. “Mamma bear, papa bear, baby bear. You’re my baby bear, dontcha see?”

Sherlock couldn’t help grinning back at her in spite of his continued bemusement. They were at John and Mary’s anniversary party and Molly had polished off half a bottle of rather nice red all by herself, which was why he was sitting with her in the Watson’s spare bedroom, trying to coax her into bed so she could sleep it off. “Nope, sorry, still don’t see,” he admitted as he worked her shoes off her feet.

She was propped up against the headboard, still waving three fingers in front of his face. “You’re not Tom an’ you’re not Jim,” she declared.

He pulled a face. “No, definitely not,” he agreed. “Not drunk, either, which is more than I can say for you, Doctor Hooper.”

She giggled. “I like it when you call me that, ‘Doctor Hooper’, makes me sound perfreshinal…perfeshinal…like I know my job reeeaaaallly good!”

“You do know your job really good,” he replied as he slid her feet beneath the sheet and duvet. “Really well,” he corrected himself with a shake of the head.

“Yesh,” she agreed solmenly, finally lowering her hand to her lap. “Buuttt I alsho know my fairly tales. An’ you’re still my baby bear. Not Tom, he was too nice.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not Jim, cause he was too dang’rush. But youuuu…” she sing-songed the last word, “you are jusht right, Sherlock Scoot Willem Hol-mes.” 

He winced as she mangled his name - especially since she decided to pronounce the silent ‘l’ in his last name - but at least now he understood what she was trying to say. “You’re saying I’m in the Goldilocks zone,” he said with a nod as he tucked the covers up around her waist and helped her lie down. He’d already managed to get some paracetamol tablets and a glass of water into her, and hoped it would be enough to keep the raging hangover she was bound to experience to a manageable level.

“Yesh,” Molly replied sleepily as she turned onto her side. “Zactly it. My baby bear.”

He sighed and shook his head as her eyes drooped shut. He waited until he heard a soft snore from her lips, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, Goldilocks.”

The next morning when Molly woke up, she was pathetically pleased to find a full glass of water and some paracetamol waiting for her on the unfamiliar nightstand. “Oh God I need to stay away from the red,” she mumbled as she swallowed the pills and gulped down about half of the water. Only when she went to replace it on the nightstand - must be at John and Mary’s, she deduced - did she notice the folded piece of paper lying there.

Leaning back against the pillows, she opened it.

Dearest Molly, she read. In case you’ve blacked out on our conversation last night, I have decided that you are my baby bear as well. When you’re feeling up to it, send me a text and I’ll take you back to your flat so we can talk about this change in our relationship. Love, Sherlock XXX

She read it over three times before finally fumbling for her mobile and dialing Sherlock’s number. He answered on the first ring. “Yes I mean it,” he said before she could do more than open her mouth. “Since we’re in each other’s Goldilocks zone, there’s no point in dithering over it a minute longer than we have to. I’ll be there in about an hour to pick you up, plenty of time for you to have a cup of coffee and make yourself as presentable as you think necessary, although of course I can promise you I’ll think you look wondeful no matter what. Bye!

With a click he was gone and Molly wasted no time in rolling out of bed, despite her massive headache. 

As Sherlock had said, there was no point in dithering when they were finally on the same page.

Talk Too Much - Coin ( Suggested by @creativecreepie )

i love this song lmao, i had to pick it

here’s some fluffy, flustered first kiss klance


Keith raised an eyebrow at the boy sitting across from him, who was idly tapping his fingers on the small dinner table they sat at. He seemed to be looking everywhere except Keith, face flushed and bottom lip hidden between his teeth.

“Lance.” Keith said again, leaning his cheek into his hand which was propped on an elbow. Lance swallowed dryly and finally met Keith’s eyes. “Y-yeah?”

“You said you wanted to… try kissing?” Keith felt his cheeks redden a little, but he held Lance’s gaze determinedly.  Lance swallowed again and nodded. “I did”.

“And I said I would be willing to try” Keith continued, leaning forward ever so slightly. He idly stirred his lukewarm coffee, flicking his tongue over his lips.

“You sure did…!” Lance reached and scratched at the back of his neck and glancing away again. He pretended to be more interested in the window they sat next to, but he couldn’t control his anxious fidgeting.

“Soooo…” Keith leaned forward a little more, trying his best to be subtle. Lance looked back at the boy again, mouth drawn in a thin line. “Soooo…” He replied back.

Keith slumped a little, flopping his arm down on the table a little impatiently. “Are you gonna kiss me or not?”

Lance jumped slightly, biting his lip again. He wiped his hands on his pants, trying to get rid of the sweat that had begun to accumulate in the dips of his palms. “Oh, right. That. Uhm, yeah” He coughed.

“Okay” Keith murmured, leaning forward again eagerly. He felt like his cheeks were on fire. 

“Okay” Lance nodded, leaning forward a bit too. “I’m gonna do it.”

“Do it” Keith encouraged with a small smile, trying not to let his voice crack over the jumbling of nerves he felt storming in is tummy. 

“I’m gonna,” Lance was inching forward very slowly, so slowly that it didn’t even seem like he was moving at all. Keith was getting impatient.

“Are you?”




If Lance could stare at the table any harder, he might burn holes through it. He looked back up at Keith again, only about a foot of a gap between them. 

“S-sorry, I’m just-”

Keith couldn’t wait anymore, his impatience had gotten the better of him. In one quick second, he closed the gap between them and planted his lips on Lance’s, shutting him up. 

Lance squeaked but didn’t pull back. He blinked several times but the kiss ended almost as quick as it started. Keith pulled back hesitantly, and looked up at Lance, trying to read his expression.

The tanner boy’s cheeks were flushed heavily, but he met Keith’s gaze again with a small smile.


I have no clue what to title this, shoot me 😉

You really didn’t know Jughead Jones the 3rd personally, you had just heard of him from your friends Betty Cooper and Archie Andrews sometimes. Even though you didnt know him didn’t mean you were going to ignore him when Reggie Mantle started to pick on him saying that he was the one to probably kill poor Jason Blossom. “I mean let’s think about it, if a kid at Riverdale was gonna kill Jason, it’s not gonna be a jock, right?” Reggie states in his deep voice while sitting in the lounge.
“No, lets be honest, it’s always some spooky, scrawny, pathetic internet troll to busy writing manifestos to get laid.” He continues while tossing glances in Jugheads direction, smirking at his goons that were surrounding him. Jughead continued to lean casually against a wall next to the vending machine, shooting daggers at Reggie. “Some smug, moody, serial-killer fanboy freak? Like Jughead?” You roll you eyes as you strolled over to the vending machine pretending to look for something to snack on, well maybe not pretending, you were hungry and exhausted just having to listen to Reggie spew word vomit in the lounge, just incase you wanted to or had to intervene on the subject at hand.
“What was it like Suicide Squad? When you shot Jason?” Reggie persisted, you had been wachting at this point, leaning against the back of one of the couches, having to move from the vending machine seeing as you were just standing there, some kid coming up behind you grumbling for you to move from the vending machine since you weren’t getting anything. “You didn’t do anything to the body did you, you know like, after?” Reggie pushed on trying to get a rise out of Jughead, Jughead was practically trying to burn holes into Reggie’s face with his glares. “ It’s called necrophilia Reggie, can you spell it?” Jughead asked Reggie sarcastically. Reggie pounced trying to grab at Jughead before you had gotten in the way “Y/N what the hell are you doing? Let me at this little freak!” Reggie yells in your face and you glare up at him, “Reggie, you are honestly such a pitiful excuse for a man, Jason Blossom’s murder is NOT a joke. Do you hear me?!” You tell back at him, he just glares down at you, you being 5'4" (A/N I apologize if your not, i just put an average height there you can totally ignore that if your taller and maybe closer to 6'3") was a big difference to him being 6'3", still it doesn’t mean you can’t beat some ass. “Y/N get the hell out of my way, I don’t want to hit you.” Reggie growled at you, glancing around the lounge most of the people were watching you growl and yell at one another, Jughead on the other hand, also being taller than you, was staring right over your head at Reggie but also glancing down at you from time to time.
Reggie glances at you then at Jughead and tries to shoot his arm over you and hit Jughead, effectively hitting you directly in the face, everyone watching gasping as he knocks your glasses off on the process (A/N again ignore that if you want, ya know the whole glasses thing). “Shit Y/N I really di-” Reggie stops mid sentence as you punch him as hard as you can in the jaw, he falls to the ground as you kick the back of his knee while he is bent foward holding his face, grabbing his arm and forcibly holding it behind his back while you shove him face first onto the floor. “Reggie Mantle, if I EVER catch you trying to touch ANYONE like that ever again i will do this again, ten times over” you growl into his ear “do. You. Under. Stand?” You pronounce into his ear, hearing him whimper you let him go grabbing you glasses from the floor as you get up and move to your bag, leaving the lounge.
As you walk down the hallway you hear shoes thumping against the linoleum running after you, you twirl on your heel of your ankle boot to see Jughead panting with his hands on his knees, “Man Juggie, athletics really isn’t your strong suit is it?” You chuckle as you stare at him with an amused smirk. “Why did you do that back there?” He questions you at once, you take in his appearance fully now from up close, he was wearing his signature beanie, black jeans with black and white suspenders hanging at his sides, a dark grey T-shirt with an S on it, a deep burgundy hoody and a black jean jacket. “Maybe because I’m tired of Reggie’s shit, or maybe it was because i like you and have been meaning to talk to you and just decided to defend you?” You say with a hum, tilting your head and puckering your lips a bit while playing with his jacket, “but you can decide what it was.” You say as you look back up at him with an amused smirk, “well, how about you and me talk at Pop’s tonight, I can meet you there and we get to know each other like you wanted” Jughead suggests looking down at you with smirk as you move your hand to rest on him chest “hmmm, that depends.” You say looking back up at him with your finger tapping your chin in an exaggerated curious expression, “depends on what?” He pushes as he plays with the ends of your Y/L, Y/HC hair. “Depends on if I like you enough.” You pat his chest as you grin up at him before you spin around again and walk out of school skipping the rest of the day.
*A/N- i know it sucks, i literally only write when im given assignments in school and its like, only argumentative essays 😥. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while and needed to get it out. Please no hate this is literally my very first and probably last one shot. I apologize if this has already been writen or you have had the idea and this is probably (definitely) not doing it justice.
The Line (Part 14)

Originally posted by canonspngifs

Characters: Dean x Reader, Crowley, Amara

Word Count: 752

Summary:  Crowley calls in the reader’s debt.

A/N:  I’m sorry, I meant for this to come out sooner today and be longer.  But everything kind of fell apart today, so I hope it’s not horrible.  

The Line Masterlist

“So, this is what you do with your time.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his voice.  You squeezed the hand you held a little tighter, making sure not to let the flow of glittering blue magic down your arms through your fingers falter.  

You glanced over your shoulder at him and said nothing.

“I hope you’re not trying to barter your way into heaven, because that scale is tipped drastically in the other direction,” Crowley continued, leaning casually against the hospital door.

“What do you want, Crowley,” you asked, already knowing the answer.  He pulled up a chair but didn’t sit down.  You tried not to react to his proximity, or the inevitability of his presence.  

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Tyler Posey and Dylan O'Brien sat at the Comic Con Q&A for Teen Wolf. The fans were raving with questions, and telling them how much they loved them. One fan spoke in the crowd: “I am absolutely amazed and I’m crying that I’m meeting you right now!” Tyler laughed and replied “Well, I’m amazed and humbled that I get to see this stud just about everyday…” He winked at Dylan in a joking manner as the crowd laughed and aww’d.

A new question was then asked by a young man in his mid twenties. His voice was kind of higher pitched. The stereotypical gay man’s accent “Okay, have you guys ever had a farting contest?” Both guys laughed hysterically with the crowd.

“Well…” Tyler blushed and tried to continue talking when Dylan leaned to his right and ripped a pretty decent fart at Tyler. Tyler busted out laughing and was shocked when Dylan ripped another. Dylan chimed in with “We’ll we haven’t but we’d both know who would win.” At the same time, both men replied with “Me!” Dylan and Tyler stared at each other as Dylan raised an eyebrow and twisted his hip towards his bromance. A third fart escaped his butt and Tyler matched it with a fart of his own. Tyler laughed and stated “It kind of stinks in here.” The crowd laughed, with just a few of the girls crying “eww!” But it was too late. The fart war had begun. Dylan ripped a 5 second long ripper straight into his chair. It echoed across the auditorium. Tyler ripped a good 4 second fart and wafted the smell to Dylan’s face. Dylan retaliated by wafting his ass fumes back to Tyler and the contest was just starting to unfold. Tyler ripped a 5 second blast as Dylan let out a 10 second blast. The crowd began to ooh and aah in excitement… and then the smell. The rank sulfur smell of Dylan’s fumes mixed with the cheesy smell of Tyler’s gas and began suffocating the crowds. Coughing could be heard, as well as moans and dry heaving. But those sounds were soon masked by the sounds of non stop farting by the Teen Wolf heart throbs. As Dylan ripped a fart, Tyler would rip one before his ended. Dylan would start back up before Tyler’s ended. Then, countless “victims” of the gaseous warfare began to fall to the ground. The smell became too much for them. 60% of them fell to the ground within the first 10 minutes of the battle. 10% were actually able to run out of the doors into the halls. The hallways began to flood with the guys’ smells and soon more victims were taken hold of. The remaining 30% either stood in bewilderment as the contest continued on or ran to the front of the stage to get a closer look at their favorite actors. Many of those fools met an unconscious fate as well. Dylan ripped what was his 80th fart of the contest and Tyler let out his 78th. The entire Comic Con arena began to succumb to the smells and sounds of Dylan & Tyler’s backsides.
Dylan then let out the king of all farts, a minute long, the loudest of the day, and the most frightening. Tyler backed away and began covering his nose with his shirt. The original guy stood there in bewilderment as both men stoically perched themselves in their seats and continued blasting gas. “STOP!” The fan yelled out. “Why should we stop?” Dylan replied. “Yeah, this is fun, I’m gonna beat him soon!” Tyler was determined to win. “Beat me? You’re 3 behind!” Dylan blasted another bomb aimed right at Tyler’s face and replied “Make that 4 behind.”
“Let me sniff you! Up close! Please! I’m the only one conscious right now! I just want to sniff you!” The fan’s response shocked the guys into hysterics as Tyler motioned the man up to the stage. “Get down there buddy” Tyler pointed to his ass and pushed the fan into the crease of his cargos. A long muffled stream of gas escaped his ass as Dylan chuckled. “My turn!” Dylan took hold of the fart hungry fan and ripped another fart of his own. He felt the nose of his biggest fan wiggle in his pants seat as it flowed out of his body. Tyler ripped 2 farts during that time. “Save them for his face dude!” Dylan was in tears from laughing so hard as Tyler responded “Screw that dude! I’m 2 behind you!” Dylan laughed and ripped 5 more farts “Make that 7!” Dylan grabbed one side of the fans face as Tyler grabbed the other. He was sandwiched between both stars’ hands, facing both their asses. “Let’s finish this once and for all.” Dylan looked serious and was met by a yes nod from Tyler. Then all hell erupted. The gas was phenomenal as the Auditorium, the Comic Con arena and the outside decks were soaked in gas. What farts seeped through the openings of the buildings soon escaped to the outside city. Businessmen were soon calling out of work for feeling nauseous and lightheaded. The fans in the auditorium were still laying on the floor passed out. The gas continued to flow as both fart fellas held their prey in the palm of their hands. “This is the best contest ever bro!” Dylan exclaimed. Tyler was struggling to keep a gas flow. “What’s wrong man? Can’t keep up?” Tyler was scared of losing and tried pushing harder as his last bit of fart escaped him. “Haha! Looks like someone’s out.” Dylan patted the guy on the back as his gas got louder. Tyler tried pushing again and failed to get anything out. Tyler was really getting scared.
Dylan’s gas soon overpowered the stench of Tyler’s farts by ten fold. The surrounding city declared the air quality at a dangerous level and sent as many people into shelter that were still conscious to walk. The lowly fan stayed perched behind Dylan’s rump as even he began to fade out. “Thank you… th… thank you Dylan…” He faded into a sleep state as Dylan laid him down to the ground. Tyler began to cough as Dylan’s fart slowly faded to a trickle, and then to silence. “Nice one bro!” Tyler applauded his friend and coworker for his impressive showing. Dylan patted his own ass and smiled as his destructive work. “Man, no wonder they don’t let me eat food on set. The guys walked past their unconscious fans as they headed to the nearest Chipotle for a quick snack before dinnertime. The scent of destruction wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

A Martinelli Christmas

Angie Martinelli needs a girlfriend to bring home for Christmas. Her roommate, Peggy Carter, has agreed to be that girlfriend. What could possibly go wrong?

A lil’ something I started working on during NaNoWriMo.

“I’m serious, Pegs!” Angie exclaims.

In response, her traitorous roommate just continues to laugh, leaning against the doorjamb of their kitchen for support.

Any other time, Angie’d be marveling over the sound of Peggy’s laughter - she’s known English for two years and has never heard her laugh so much, or so hard. Peggy’s head is thrown back, brown tresses loose on her shoulders, her red mouth open so wide, Angie can see her molars. There are crows feet crinkled in the corners of her eyes, as she grips the doorjamb with one hand, and the other is placed on her stomach in an effort to hold herself together. Angie’s never seen such a beautiful sight.

It’s an even better sight when Peggy snorts. Angie’s heart flips at the sound.

“Angie,” Peggy says, in a tone that says she knows that Angie knows better. Tears make her eyes twinkle, and she has to lift an elegant hand to wipe the tears away. “I’m so sorry, but do you know how ridiculous it sounds?”

“I know!” Angie groans, throwing her hands up in the air. She turns and starts to pace in their tiny kitchen.

“But mom’s been on my case about my love life, and it’s gotten even worse since my cousin Joey got himself engaged! If I showed up, I would not put it past her to bring me a date for Christmas! I just,” she expels a deep sigh of frustration. Peggy, bless her, waits patiently as Angie tries to get her words together. “I just want one peaceful dinner with my family without all of them trying to set me up with a friend’s daughter, or a younger cousin of the butcher, or just some random girl working a Whole Foods!”

Peggy raises a pointed eyebrow. “Has that happened before?” she asks in a dry, inquiring tone.

“Yes, believe it or not, it has!” Angie yells. She groans again before spinning in the opposite direction of the kitchen. She makes her way to the living room, and flops herself down onto her favorite chair, her legs spread and head in one hand. There’s a beat of silence before Angie hears the unmistakable sound of Peggy’s heels moving quietly on the hardwood floor.

“It’s really that important to you, isn’t it?” Peggy’s voice gently asks above Angie’s head.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Angie’s quick to reassure, raising her head to look up at her. English’s dark brown curls dangle over her shoulders, and is a stark contrast to the slope of her milky white neck and her blood red lips. “I love my family. I honest-to-God wouldn’t trade them for the world - but sometimes it gets exhausting. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have a mother who expects so much out of you?”

Peggy’s hesitation before she speaks says it all. “I may know a thing or two about that,” she replies mysteriously as she looks away from Angie.

It’s the mysteriousness of the comment that makes Angie want to give in to the urge to frown. It drives her crazy just how mysterious her roommate is; that in the two years Angie’s known her, she knows next to nothing about Peggy Carter. Oh sure, she knows the average stuff - college-educated, born and bred in England, has a steady job, makes rent payment on time, nothing iffy in any of the background checks Angie made before she agreed to rent with her. But she doesn’t know about Peggy’s personal life. She doesn’t know what her home life was like, if she had any siblings, what she does exactly at her job, or if she’s even gay. It disgusts her that she’s so desperate to know more about Peggy, that Angie will scarf down whatever crumb of information her crush is willing to share with her.

“Christmas is a huge deal, and sometimes I don’t want to go because of just how big a deal it is. But relatives I haven’t seen in ages are gonna be there, and I just know that if I don’t bring a date the attention will be all on me -”

“And here I thought you loved the spotlight, Angie,” Peggy teases, the corner of her lips turned upwards and a glint in her honey brown eyes.

“English!” whines Angie, jutting her bottom lip in a pout. “C'mon, you know that’s not what I meant!”

Her roommate releases a chuckle that sends a wave of warmth down Angie’s spine, making it curl up her toes.

“I know I should have asked you first, but I panicked,” Angie explains, staring up at Peggy, feeling like a pious worshiper begging an all-powerful deity. “You’re my best friend, sad as it is to say and well.” She sighs in exasperation. “I honestly can’t think of anyone else I’d rather bring to meet the family.”

There’s a pregnant pause as Peggy stares down at her. Something glitters in her eyes, and before Angie has time to decipher what it is, her roommate shrugs and it’s gone. “Well,” English starts. “Maybe if you ask…” she trails off playfully, one corner of her lips lifting, as she opens one eye to stare down at Angie.

Hope swoops in Angie’s chest. Before she can even get out the question, her lips begin to crack into a smile. "Peggy Carter, will you be my fake girlfriend for Christmas?”

“Alright,” says Peggy with a put-upon sigh, “if it truly means that much to you, then yes, I’ll be your pretend girlfriend.”

“Thanks English.”

Consider this a one shot for now until I can get a chance to expand on it.


This has been gif’ed in a couple gorgeous ways already (thanks itssoinevitable and downtondownstairs) BUT, I couldn’t resist. Such a lovely moment, and it leads to the fourth gif where she is feeling so loved and comfortable that she is 1000% crowding up against him as they walk while he inches ever closer to the lawn. Then their arms brush but she continues to lean into him, prolly a leetle disappointed when Carson adjusts by tucking his arm behind his back. lolol. 

Dimples - Dean Ambrose Imagine

Imagine making fun of Dean and his dimples when he smiles.

You two were watching something on TV that prompted a smile out of Dean.



“Your dimples…”

His smile quickly went away.


“What happened? They were just there! They were right… about… here.”  You tried to poke him on his cheek but he pulled away.


“Awwwww come on. You’ve got DIMPLES. You know you do!”

“I do not!”

“Yes you do!”

“I….” His smile started to come back. “No I don’t.”

“Oh! There they are.”

He couldn’t help it this time. His full smile came back.

“You need to stop that…” He turned away from you and continued watching TV.

You leaned forward and planted a kiss right on his cheek.


Servant//Jeon Jungkook

Originally posted by pangguk

Pairing:Jungkook x reader


Summary:Anonymous said:
OH WAIT! You do do BTS scenarios? Lol I only see it now. I’m new to your blog btw hahaha. Soooo~ If it’s not to much I would like to request a BTS Jungkook scenario where his gf is ill so he’s trying to make her feel better.

Author’s Note: that is all.

xoxo Sara

“Jagiyaaaa,” Jungkook whined softly, laying on top of you as you stayed curled inside your blankets, not wanting to let the cold in as you felt sick to your stomach. “We were supposed to have a date today,” he continued, leaning his nose into your cheek as he clung to your body like a sloth to a tree, refusing to let go no matter how much you begged.

“Jungkook,” you groaned softly, tossing and turning beneath the blankets, hoping that your continuous moving would cause him to let go of you, “I don’t feel good.”

“You don’t?” He asked softly, head snapping up. Something inside of him clicked as he slowly detached himself from you, earning a satisfied sigh to fall from your lips as you thought of being able to sleep for a little while longer.

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