eager street

Again

Originally posted by natpekis

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 7,501 (ok kinda sorry)

Warnings: angst!, a tiny bit of violence, swear words, alcohol

Summary: Being Bucky’s best friend (after Steve of course) gets a lot of perks - but being in love with him WHILE being his best friend means that your adoration must be kept a secret. That also means you have to silently endure every single encounter with women he has whether he tells you or you see it for yourself.

A/N: So this one shot is based on the Amy Shark song “Adore You” (she speaks to me on so many levels!) and I just really wanted a Bucky fic for it because he’d be absolutely clueless to someone adoring him like this…I also kind of skipped over the “oh look at him I’m in love with him” fluffy stuff and I just focused on the couple of days leading up to the point reader can’t take it anymore. I like the angst - it fuels me *evil laugh*

Y/F/I = Your First Initial


I’m just gonna stand with my bag hanging off my left arm

I’m just gonna walk home kicking stones at parked cars

But I had a great night ‘cause you kept rubbing against my arm

I’m just gonna stand with my bag hanging off my left arm


You hugged Wanda and Nat, giving small waves to the boys, before turning to Bucky. 

“Hey B, I’m going to head back to the tower. The mission took a bigger toll on me than I thought.” You made a show of rubbing your neck, hoping the sadness in your eyes would be mistaken for exhaustion.

Bucky turned away from the young, curvy brunette tucked under his arm, his smile fading as his eyes scanned over you with concern. He didn’t move away from her, nor did you move any closer, instead you gripped the strap of your bag hard, until your knuckles were white, in an effort to ignore the pain radiating through your chest.

“Are you sure? Did you want me to come with you?”

You gave serious thought to saying yes, knowing he’d probably give the woman a kiss and get her phone number before following you out of the bar, talking your ear off about how she was this and that. All the while, you would be fighting the anger and nausea bubbling up your throat, fighting back the urge to scream at him to shut up about her and every other woman, just fighting to keep your face neutral as you listened to the love of your life pine after any and every other woman but you.

Keep reading

2

I’m Listening

Characters: Jensen x Reader 

Warnings: Disgusting Fluff

Word Count: 725 (short, sweet, and sexy)

A/N: Thanks @thing-you-do-with-that-thing for sending this gif so I could make my own dreams come true. You are much appreciated! Now enjoy this teeth rotting goodness that is Jensen Ackles absolutely and utterly in love. 

Keep reading

6

[Letter from Richey Edwards to Alistair Fitchett, transcription below]

Sat 12 Jan

“Cut word lines – Cut music lines – Smash the Control Images – Smash the Control Machine – Burn the books – Kill the priests – Kill! Kill! Kill!” - William Burroughs

Dear Alistair,

Thanks for the letter. Pretty inspiring, after all the tons of bullshit mail we get. It arrived on Wednesday just as we were about to leave for London (again). At last someone who understands the Situationists etc. We actually went up to meet Jamie Reid. Still so full of hate and desire to change. Anyone who turned a portrait of the Queen in a mass image must be cool. Popularism. Afterwards we had an age long interview with Sounds. A definite 2 page article, probable front cover. I don’t feel a prostitute for appearing in the music papers. Like you said, there is nothing wrong with HYPE if the goal is not profit. Best of all it’s not even hype cos the papers ask to talk to us. It’s been so long since they’ve met an intellectual band. Last night we played a public school in Surrey and turned the place upside down. The assembled forces of WEA/EMI/SONY/DEFJAM were all there and none can understand. That we reject the audience. That we smash our instruments etc. We celebrate our own obsolete form. That there is no value in production line product. That for every broken Gibson guitar there is another one off the shelf tomorrow. Capitalism ruins. Nothing is personal or of value. They are all so dumb. WAR starts in a few days – the A+R men accept that; they accept bodybags, amputees, cripples, walking wounded, but they can’t accept a smashed guitar. On stage we destroy ourselves, we destroy our form of communication. Cos deep down we know music is irrelevant to real life. That’s what MOTOWN JUNK is about. About how music sometimes offers salvation and inspires but you still gotta face the poverty of work, life, forever. We realized it a long time ago.

The first verse goes

“Never ever wanted to be with you
All you ever gave was the boredom I
suffocate in
Adrift in cheap dreams don’t stop the rain
Numbed out in piss towns just wanna
dig their graves.”

And that last line sums it up. Here I am, in a shithole home town and INSPIRAL CARPETS talk about T-shirts sales in LA. Is that gonna save me??

All our songs offer is NEGATIVITY, CHAOS, DESPAIR. I realize when you say that we should offer more but that’s not what we’re about. We wanna create so much hate that we get swept away, we get destroyed. We are building our musical career on weak foundations that are designed to collapse within a year of our 1st number one. We are the last rock n’ roll band. Rock n’ roll is dead. But it’s our only culture. ‘Suicide Alley’ spat on its corpse. We wanna be gone as soon as possible. The biggest statement we can make is to become the biggest band in the world and then immediately split up.

And that’s what I don’t understand about Kevin Pierce (Esurient). I got a letter from him calling us “faggots…cowards, etc”. Faggots because we wear eyeliner (We wear eyeliner cos we wanna be seen as D.I.Y. style, surgeons, an attempt to uglify ourselves; the same reason we spray our clothes with slogans) and cowards because we smash equipment i.e. rock n’ roll cliche. Surely the biggest cliche is just being in a band, just standing there and singing. That cliche is thousands of years old. Believing in auto-destruction may be old-hat but at least there’s a reason behind it. What reason trad rock format? Also he said we we were pathetic appearing in N.M.E. Surely the biggest crime is not appearing at all. Would Marx be a better person if he had never put his thoughts to paper? Would Lenin be better if he realized there would be revolution and then did nothing about it? I don’t think so. Our aim is to reach as many people as possible. BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY. We’re on SNUB TV on January 21st and MARK GOODIER session Jan 28th.  A tour starts Jan 23rd. We’re off to Paris to meet some still revolutionaries in March and then there’s a chance we’ll be working with the Bomb Squad (Public Enemy producers) early summer in New York. And that will produce the most vicious song ever. Anyway, thanks for the tape. Unfortunately we are completely familiar with every single song. But I’ve used the tape for some of our songs.

1/ REPEAT – Repeat after me
Death sentence heritage
Death camp palace
Royal Khmer Rouge
Imitation Demi-gods
Useless Generation of
Dumb flag scum
Repeat After Me,
Fuck Queen and Country

2/ METHADONE PRETTY
-I accuse history, I accuse
I don’t need your history

3/ FACELESS SENSE OF VOID
We blur into images of state coercion
Classified machines die misunderstood
City reflections pour out misery
We don’t count, so we hate

4/ YOU LOVE US – Until I see love in statues
Your lessons drill inherited sin

5/ GENERATION TERRORISTS
Jam your brains with broken heroes
Love your masks and adore your chaos
MP’s dress up now TV is danger
Westminster more ugly than a gas chamber
Don’t wanna see your face
Don’t wanna hear your words
Why don’t you just fuck off

6/ SOUL CONTAMINATION
Everyone stares with the glaze of obsession
Interlocking cartels bypassing the bone
The empty statement of art school dissension
Institutionalized expression of mass control

7/ DEMOCRACY COMA
Parliament mother of the United Nations
Mother of history’s dead sun, dead scum
D.N.A. of restriction and law
Death, famine, darkness, and war
I don’t see happy homes but the Belfast
Wall, In Walkman Sounds hear
Sony control

8/ MOTOWN JUNK
Communal tyranny a jail that bleeds our wrists

9/ SORROW 16
Cut your hair in front of businessmen
Kill yourself and censor health
Destroy work and ignore their truth
Wanna die and have never worked
The wall is a reason for you to believe
There’s too many numbers for us to sleep

10/ WE HER MAJESTY’S PRISONERS
England’s glory lives on in worldwide
genocide. So celebrate Buchenwald
as her Majesty’s heir. Now an
obsolete face on a currency of
illusion. No matter what we own
we can’t buy freedom.

Anyway, let us know what you think.

Love, Richey XXX

Thanks, Mom

Summary: You go to visit your mom at her new house and find a handsome man mowing her yard.

warnings: none, just fluff! (minor fantasies about Dean, but who hasn’t had those, right?)

word count: ~2600


You turned onto your mom’s street, eager to see her new house all finally put together.  She had moved about a month ago, but you had been so busy with your job that you hadn’t had a chance to come by and see the place, let alone help her unpack.

She didn’t seem to mind, as she quite enjoyed organizing and arranging things.  You had talked to her on the phone many times and she told you all the new ideas she had for the house… It felt like you had been there a thousand times with all the details she had shared, but you were just now getting to see it.

You pulled into the driveway, eyes scrunched in confusion when you saw a man pushing a lawnmower in her yard. Your mom had always done her own yard work, saying that it was the best work out she would get and not liking to work out in any other ways.

The man looked your way and waved, before quickly turning back to his task.  You reached for your purse after you turned off your car, getting out slowly.  You looked at the man again, taking him in.  He was wearing jeans and a v-neck t-shirt, hair short with scruff on his face. His face – that was a handsome face.  Plump lips and a light brush of freckles under piercing green eyes that you could see all the way across the yard.  He turned the lawnmower so that he was now facing away from you, and you couldn’t help but admire his back muscles that flexed under his thin t-shirt and the curve of his ass –

Keep reading

sorry to [the] unknown lover

so based on these posts by @alphacrone and @audiaphilios, here’s 4300 words of post mem cup shenanigans that holster carries with him till his first practice at samwell. cross-posted on ao3 


Ending up at the same bar as the Rimouski team celebrating their Mem Cup is a complete accident and one that Adam’s trying to figure out how to reverse without bringing attention to himself as he leaves the bar. He knows from experience that 6’3” is pretty hard to hide (being one of the youngest on the team makes celebrating in bars a constant act of subterfuge), plus his black and gold Wheat Kings hat is an obvious beacon of a losing team among the blue and white of the champions. Adam hunches down lower in his seat in the bar, turning his hat so the logo isn’t as obvious and hopes no one wants to start a fight with someone on the last place team drinking a lukewarm glass of coke ‘cause his fake isn’t that good.

Adam had gotten here first, having left the final sometime in the third when it was clear the Wolves wouldn’t bounce back from a 4-1 lead. The goal that guaranteed Rimouski’s win came from a Wolves d-man fumbling the puck in his zone and hit a little too close to home for someone whose team was eliminated from the tourney on a similar goal. If Adam had had his way, he wouldn’t have stuck around Canada past the round robin, but he’d booked a flight right back home rather than going back to Brandon and having to double back on himself to get to Buffalo. He gambled booking his flight for the day after the final, hedging his bets on the fact they won had the WHL title and forgetting who they had to qualify for the finals of the tournament. Adam learned the hard way why the Zimmermann-Parson no-look is infamous across the league.

Adam startles when the stool next to him scrapes against the floor and someone drops heavily onto it, sitting a touch too close to him. He looks up out of his coke to glare at the person that ignored the “don’t come near me” vibe Adam’s been projecting. Piercing blue eyes meet his easily. Jack Zimmermann is apparently making a habit of walking through Adam’s defense.

“Que bois-tu?” Zimmermann asks, nodding at Adam’s glass. Adam knows enough French (you don’t play in Brandon without getting stuck in Immersion) to catch the question, but he’s also petty enough to stare blankly at Zimmermann. It’s a poor choice in retrospect; everyone has a crush on Jack Zimmermann’s hockey, but staring at him, Adam can admit he might have a different kind of crush too.

Keep reading

This isn’t as fluffy as the requester asked for but it’s all I could think to do. Hopefully this is still alright, and that everyone likes it. Thank you to @zoemonster200​ for the request. Enjoy!

Prompt[s]: I love your Loki ones. Can you do one where reader visits him in Earth Prison because she found out he was alive, but she has a kid and explains it’s his? Fluff? Pwease?

‘Old Flame, New Spark’

The quinjet shuddered and lurched to the side. Steve was grateful to have a hold on the jet as it jumped through the air and his feet momentarily left the ground.
“Romanoff,” he called when he touched solid ground again, “please tell me this has nothing to do with your flying.”
“My flying is fine, Rogers,” she snapped back. Steve knew he’d pay for that comment later, even if it he’d not meant it come across as it did. “Whatever we’re dealing with here is some powerful shit.”
“Great,” he groaned.

Neither of them had expected it to be as powerful as this, hence why they’d come alone. The call had been simple enough: someone was attacking civilians, looting shops, and generally causing dangerous mischief. However, this mischief was suddenly affecting the quinjet’s flight pattern? Not good.
“Should I call for Tony? Get some back-up on the way?” He asked, making his way towards the pilot’s seat with wobbly legs. Natasha was struggling to get control of the ship.

By the time he’d reached her, he realised that her face had completely fallen.
“Uh, yeah,” she said slowly, holding up an index finger and pointing to what she’d seen. “I think that’d be a good idea.”

Natasha swung the quinjet around and made to soar in the other direction, hoping that approaching by foot would grant them the element of surprise. Meanwhile, Steve leapt back into the jet’s bunker, and dialled the emergency assemble button Tony had installed. No doubt they’d need all the help they could get for this one.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hii can I have number 12 with Chanyeol fluff?ish? 😅 ty

12. “I’m cold.” + Chanyeol + Fluff

“C’mon, jagiyah, we don’t want to be late,” Chanyeol said, smiling at you as you grabbed your purse. “You’re sure you don’t want a jacket or anything? You know how cold the theater can be.”

“I’ll be fine,” you replied, taking his arm and stepping out into the bright sunlight. “See? It’s too hot for a jacket. I’ll be roasting by the time we get there.”

The two of you walked quickly down the street, eager to see the new film that had been released last week. Everyone you knew who had seen it said it was fantastic, and so you and Chanyeol had decided to go check it out. It had been a while since you two had gone on a theater date, since Chanyeol was kind of restless and couldn’t stay in his seat long. Usually you stayed home and enjoyed the comfort of your own home, but he had agreed that you couldn’t wait for this movie to come out on Netflix.

You reached the cinema in record time. Chanyeol opened the door for you, ushering you in before ducking in behind you. He handed your pre-purchased tickets to the attendant, then pulled you over to the snack counter.

“Take your pick.” He said, gesturing at candies and drinks.

He chose a packet of M&M’s, while you got a Twix. He also bought a large popcorn and two bottles of water, handing one to you. You jumped at the coldness of the bottle, goosebumps appearing up and down your arms. He eyed you, arching an eyebrow.

“I’ll be fine. I was just surprised,” you explained.

He shrugged, before leading you to Theater 12. You walked up the stairs to the top row, choosing seats in the middle. You both got yourselves settled down, putting your waters in the cupholders and opening your snacks.

Chanyeol stared at the huge screen, watching the previews in anticipation. You, on the other hand, were curled up in your seat. Maybe it was a bit chillier than you remembered…

“Is something wrong?” He whispered, his hot breath on your ear, offering you a bit of warmth. You sighed in bliss, before realizing he was waiting for you to answer.

“Oh…no, it’s just…Um, well…” you huffed in frustration. “I’m cold.”

He chuckled softly. “Really? How surprising.”

You jabbed him on the arm, narrowing your eyes at him. “Oh, hush.”

He laughed again, before pulling his sweatshirt over his head.

“Here,” he hummed, sliding it onto you.

You grinned, nuzzling your face into the warm fabric and inhaling your sweet boyfriend’s scent.

“Thank you, Yeollie,” you murmured, glancing at him.

He kissed your forehead. “Anything for you, jagiyah,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close, giving you even more heat from his warm body. “Now hush, the movie’s about to start.”

What He's Always Wanted (Spencer Reid x Reader)

A/N: hi guys! So I am currently swamped with requests so if you request something, it might take a while to be posted.
Warnings: injured animal
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Prompt: the reader is a vet tech
Request: ✅
Upcoming Imagine: Reader is a genius much like Reid
-
Spencer ran down the street, holding the little animal in his arms.
About 10 minutes ago, Spencer was spending his Sunday by walking down the streets of D.C. until he passed an alleyway where he heard whimpering.
Spencer, being the curious soul he is, had to see what it was.
“Hello?” He asked, his voice raised as he recognized the sound.
He walked deeper into the narrow street and then he saw it.
A little chocolate lab puppy was limping behind a garbage can.
He gasped as he bent down to reach for it, carefully stroking its small head.
“Come here sweetie.” He said picking it up gently.
He could instantly feel its bones under its soft fur.
He carefully stroked it as he carried it back onto the street.
The rapid breathes worried Spencer and he was scared for the puppy’s life.
He knew there was a vet somewhere around where he was, so he scanned signs and shops, but his attention was drawn to the dog when the rapid breathes stopped.
“No no no.” He said shaking it ever so slightly to wake it up, but it wasn’t responsive.
He started picking up his pace, ended up running down the street, eager to find help fast.
Then he saw the little vet building across the street.
He didn’t even care about using a crosswalk, so when it was clear, he crossed praying the shop was open.
Thankfully, it was open and you saw a man holding a little brown puppy, worry plastered across his face.
“Can… can you please help me? I found this puppy and I don’t think she’s conscious.” He said quickly.
“Yeah bring her back here. How long has she been out?” You asked putting gloves on and pulling a new sheet over the bed as he laid her down.
You slowly and gently started pumping down on her body, trying to revive her.
“If she isn’t breathing in six minutes she could go into cardiac arrest.” The man said running his fingers through his hair in distress.
While continuing to give CPR, you checked her gums for any discolor along with checking for dehydration.
All of a sudden, she opened her eyes and started whining.
The man let out a deep breathe and you smiled as the puppy started panting.
You quickly gave her supplements and a bowl of water that she quickly lapped up.
The man smiled and pet her head as she drank the water quickly.
“You brought her in just in time.” You said making him look up at you and smile.
“I just found her in the alley and I knew she wasn’t okay.” He said bringing his attention to the puppy again. “Oh I’m uh Spencer by the way.” He added with a small smile.
“I’m Y/N. Do you think your gonna take her with you?” You asked pretty confident that he will.
“Oh no no. I can’t have a puppy, I don’t have room in my apartment or the time. I would take her but she would be so alone all the time and no one would take care of her.” He said with a hint of sadness in his voice.
“Well… do you want her?” You asked.
“Of course I would love to have her if I could.” He sat gently petting her head.
“How long are you gone?” You asked, an idea sparking in your mind.
You can tell that he really wants to keep her.
“Umm it depends. My job requires lots of traveling so I could be gone three to seven days in a row. If we don’t have a case, then I will work two days a week going through files.” He explained.
“Well, tell you what, if you take her, and I’m offering because I know you want her, I can give you my number and I can dog sit while your gone. I don’t have a pet, believe it or not, so I would enjoy it.” You offered with a smile.
“R-really?” He said, his face lighting up at your offer.
“Yeah! It will give me something to do on my downtime and she’s a real cutie.” You said rubbing her stomach as she laid down.
“Oh thank you thank you! That is really generous of you!” He said with a big smile on his face.
“Yeah no problem! I’m going to grab her some food real quick. You look hungry little one.” You said talking to the dog.
You walked into the back and grabbed a bowl with some protein rich puppy food.
The little dog ate up all of the food quickly as Spencer watched her admiringly.
“Considering she’s 23 pounds, I recommend one and a half cups of this dog food and plenty of water each day. If anything happens or she’s acting up, give me a call and I’ll check her out. If you want to take her now your set to go. I’ll give you bowls and food.” You said placing them on the table.
“Thank you.” He said as you put them in a bag.
He took it and you wrapped the puppy in a pink blanket before he held the small puppy in his free hand.
“Thank you again.” He said as he walked to the door.
“Wait! My number.” You said running around the counter with a pen.
He frenzied for something to write on but you gently took his hand and wrote your number on his skin.
“Thanks.” He said quietly before leaving the vet.

flickr

Untitled by into space!

(Being in love with a werewolf can be frightening in surprising ways)

“Ruby?” Weiss’s voice crackled down the line before Ruby could even say hello. “Are you there?”

The rawness in the words caught Ruby off guard. “I’m here.” Pushing away from her desk and the barely started paper on it, Ruby pressed the phone more tightly to her ear.  

“Is something wrong Weiss? Are you okay?”

Keep reading

Bruce Wayne Imagine Part 1

Part Two

Requested: “ Can i get one where the reader is saved by batman?”

Reader saved by Batman, but doesn’t know it’s Bruce Wayne.(Long)

*A/N at the end as always.

You had decided to leave the extravagant walls painted white; that hung diamond chandeliers like bats in a cave, in an effort to have an early night. The crowd had grown drunken and loud, the noise like a violation to your ears. You had tirelessly decided to leave, scared of overstaying your welcome. And of course it was no lie too that indeed the party was not what you expected. You thought there would be laughter, singing, dancing, socialisation, but instead, the laughing turned into drunken burps, singing turned into yelling, dancing turned into trying to stand right on two feet, and socialising turned into drunken slander and showing off. You were surprised you were even invited in the first place, as it was an invitation of which you never expected.

So leaving the premises, you really didn’t mind the shocking cold chill of the air, in fact it was more pleasant and calm than inside. The air inside was hot and smelly, whereas outside was fresh and tranquil. Cars littered the streets, and only a few specs of people walked past the streets, eager to get home. You pulled your coat tighter, shuffled it on your shoulders, and began waiting. You could see your breath in the air and the navy black sky, and you watched it float into thin air. Your eyes watched the street, eager to spot the yellow taxi that would come by. You were not stupid. It was in the middle of winter and midnight. And plus, this was Gotham, so of course you wouldn’t walk home.

So you waited, until the yellow car pulled up outside the party and let you in. You slid in the back seat, the car smelling of old air freshener and deodorant.

“16 Neil street, please.” You ask, your voice surprisingly a little horse from the champagne you had.

So the taxi driver started moving, the car jolting slightly at every gear shift he made. The lights outside slid past like lines of neon streaks, and your eyes grew tired as your body rested in the soft furry seat.

“Hey!” The taxi man yelled. Your eyes moved to the front as the car slowed to a stop. You watched, as a man walked onto the road.

BANG.

You screamed.

 A man had slammed his hands-on the boot (trunk of the car).  You heard him laugh. Then, on both sides of you,  the doors opened. A woman slid in and sat next to you pushing you to the middle, whilst a man slid in from the other side, squishing your body. The man who walked on the road sat at the front and smiled at the taxi driver.

“I’ll tell you where to go, just keep going.” He said. He smiled almost wickedly, and it made you uneasy. He pulled a knife to the poor taxi driver.

The woman looked at you, rubbing your warm trench coat,

“I guess you’ll just come along for the ride too hun,” And then she laughed.

“Should we put her out, so she doesn’t see where we’re going?” The man at the front asks,

“yeah!” The man next to you yells.

“Wait-! No no!-”


You thought by now you’d be at home, sleeping safely in bed with the heater; but you were wrong.

You’d never been so cold in your life. Your hands were like ice, numb and freezing to the touch. Your eyes fluttered awake, and you found yourself on the ground in a fetal position. You sat up, pushing yourself up with your hands of which were tied. You were in a warehouse, with sheets of metal walls and concrete floors. You checked your watch.

Three in the morning.

“She’s awake!” The man yelled, throwing his hands in the air (like he just didn’t care).

“You were out for a while! You okay hun?” The woman teased. You stared at her, you head standing tall and eyes strong. She laughed,

“I guess so,” She mumbled.

They stood in a group in front of you. Your throat was horribly dry, and your forehead was beginning to sweat in the tense situation. You were scared but you weren’t going to let them see that. You looked around, observing that the warehouse was to big to make a run for it.

“Now look, I’m awfully sorry but, I don’t need you,“ he pointed to you, "nor you!” and then he pointed to the taxi man who was next to you. You turned and saw the old man barely awake in a fetal position on the ground, his head bleeding.

“We just needed the taxi!”

The man walked towards him, and lifted his leg to kick him in the stomach,

“Hey!-” You yelled, face twitching in regret after. The man stopped, mid swing of his leg. He looked to you,

“Yes?” He asked with a smile on his face.

You looked up, and back to the taxi driver. You looked down in your lap, your lips unable to form any words. You were nervous, and scared, and now he was giving you his full attention.

His eyes were piercing.

The man shrugged, and re-swung his leg,

“Alright then.” And then he kicked the taxi driver.  You flinched as the old man failed to make any noise.

The man bent down to look into his face, their noses almost touching. He looked back at his group, pointed in the taxi driver’s face and began laughing

“I think he’s gone!” The group laughed, and you sat still, your breathing beginning to quicken. Your mouth was slightly agape and your heart was heavy.

But then, as they were all laughing, the lights above and throughout the warehouse had blown out. Your breath was caught in your chest, and your eyes desperately tried to look for any visible light. Your hands held each other tight, but then released. You gasped lightly upon seeing the glowing eyes of a Bat.

You’d never encountered him before, and you never thought you would. You had imagined what it would be like, and it wasn’t like this.

You heard the running of men and their grunts, as the sound of his suit and their skin hitting each other echoed throughout the warehouse. You sat there, listening, trying to pinpoint the sounds.

But then you heard the flick of a lighter, and saw an orange glow.Alit by the flame, you saw the man who kicked the taxi driver before. He lit a piece of string which sparked up like fireworks.  You weren’t a specialist in weapons, but you knew what that was. Your breathing picked up, and you scooted back, your body frantic.

“If i’m going down, you’re going down with me Batman!” He yelled. He threw the bomb into the sea of black, and all you heard was it hit the concrete floor.

Silence.

You then saw the Bat’s eyes speeding faster towards you. His eyes like streaks of lines. You gasped and grunted as his body ran into yours and his hands gripped you tight. His cape wrapped around you as he ran.

The bomb exploded.

The rushing push of force from the fire urged him to run faster. You heard the growl of an engine as you exited the warehouse and you looked up.

It was his ride.

The door opened, and he placed you in the passenger seat fast, shutting the door down with force. He looked back, where he spotted gas bottles ready to explode. He then ran to his side, sipped in, started the engine and accelerated like it was light speed. You turned around and looked out the window, watching as the warehouse exploded into oblivion. The explosion was muffled, the ‘car’ blocking out the noise through it’s thick material. You watched, as the fire blew up in clouds or orange and yellow.

You sat back down, your hands in your lap, thumbs playing with each other.

“Are you okay?” His voice was gruff, and low. Much lower than you thought. You looked at him, as if wondering is he was talking to you.

You nodded frantically,

“yes-um-yes. Thank you so much uh-Mr Batman.” You stuttered. You looked straight down.

You then felt the car stop.

You looked out the window and your mouth fell slightly agape. You were outside your house.

“how did you-?”

He grabbed your wrists and cut them loose.

“Get some rest. And make sure you clean your wrists.” You looked down. Your wrists were bleeding from the pressure of the rope.

You nodded as the door popped open. You looked at batman, his eyes no longer glowing, and his chin very visible. What a lovely chin.

“Thank you, Batman.” You say, getting out. You turn to him, “I really mean it.”

And Batman, like the gentleman he is, waited for you to get inside, before speeding off into the night.


“(y/n)?”

Your head whipped towards the voice, a biscuit in your mouth. You smiled, clutching your clipboard to your chest, your heart slightly intensifying at the sudden attention from Bruce Wayne. You swallowed the biscuit and stood up straight.  It was the next day, and you were at work  like always, as if nothing happened, being talked to by your boss, the one and only Bruce Wayne.

“Yes Mr. Wayne?” He looked at you, eyes peering into yours. Wait, Bruce Wayne? Why is Bruce Wayne talking to yo-

“How are you today?” He asks.

“I’m good, a little tired, but who isn’t right?” You laughed awkwardly, scratching your arm. Bruce raises an eyebrow and hides a smile, hand going into the pockets of his suit pants.

“Are you sure?” His eyes look to your wrists, where large bruises formed. Your eye widened and you looked up.  You turned your head side to side, then walked up to Bruce, making sure no one was around to listen.

“Alright,” You begin, “…but you’re not going to believe me…” you whisper more to yourself.

“You can tell me.” Bruce says, his black and white suit fitting him well. You let out a breath.

“Alright, so-so last night i was saved by…” You lean in closer,

“Batman.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, and then you sigh, stepping away and swinging your arms down in despair.

“I knew you wou-!”

“(y/n)” Bruce says.

“It was stupi-”

“(y/n)” he says again. You stop and look at him, a smile forming on his face. You watch him confused, waiting for him to talk.

“It’s okay,” He says, and you smile softly, almost laughing at the situation,

“I believe you.”


- I feel like if you guys like this i could make a second part? or like a small series? maybe? let me no if you like the idea through ask!

-Tis was long…probably too long. Sorry!!!

Lust (Park Jimin)

The 1st installment of the seven deadly sins mini-series!

Genre: REALLY SMUTTY PLS DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE SMUT (but the end is so cute)

Group/Member: Jimin from BTS

Word Count: 1881 (of course this would be the longest thing I’ve written)

Warnings: Sex, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, rough sex, swearing, oral sex

Please enjoy! I feel unclean but I’m happy about it!

-Admin Sarang

______________________________________________________

The way he sauntered around the room, as if he was a lone predator circling his prey, made your stomach tighten in anticipation. You had no idea who he was; in fact, you only knew three people in the sea of writhing bodies, but you had lost your friends long ago in the club’s blaring music and pulsing lights.

You caught sight of him often though, always in a different position in the large room. His eyes, however, seemed to stay put on you. You denied this, knowing that it was probably a girl near you in a sexier dress with a prettier face that he was making eyes with. But you were proven wrong when you made eye contact with him. You shuddered under his gaze, the smirk that played on his lips heating your face up.

His eyes, those dark eyes you could make out from across the room, flicked from you, to the dance floor, and then settled back on you. Prior to this moment, you had quickly shrugged off any invitation that had been extended to you. But now, as if you had lost control of your senses, you couldn’t resist this man with pale orange hair and a stare that burned your skin any longer.

You met at the edge of the dance floor and he smiled down at you, although there wasn’t a huge height difference between the both of you. He looped his arm through yours and began pushing his way past people until he was satisfied with the spacing around your bodies. His arm then fell around your waist, and something about the look in his eyes and his touch on your body made you feel trapped; like a mouse underneath a cat’s claws. No matter how many logical thoughts your brain drew up as to why walking away would be the better decision in this situation than staying, your body refused to execute them. It was as if he had a gravitational pull that kept you in orbit.

Suddenly, his lips made contact with your ear, and your train of thought was immediately derailed.

“By the way, princess, my name is Jimin.” His hot breath tickled you, causing you to shiver. His fingers gently tightened around your hips, turning you so that your back was pressed to his chest. His hands encouraged you to sway your hips to the beat of the music, and he made a grunt of approval as your body began to move against his. You could tell he knew how to move his hips by the way he grinded against you.

“You know how to move, don’t you princess?” Jimin commented as his grip tightened on your hips. You couldn’t find it in you to respond, so you continued to dance against him until he spun you around to face him. He rested his forehead on yours, his hands still laying claim to their territory on your waist.

“Would you mind coming home with me, princess? I don’t think I can handle seeing you in this dress any longer.”

You blushed at his blunt words but quickly agreed, which was extraordinarily out of character for you, but at this point, you were done trying to fight off whatever power he had over you.

He led you to his car, promising that he hasn’t had a single drink and the only problem he would have while driving would be keeping his hands on the wheel instead of on your body.

He raced down the streets, eager to reach his apartment. His long fingers caressed your exposed thighs, and you could feel heat pooling in between your legs.

“What’s your name, princess?” Jimin questioned, his fingers climbing the soft skin of your thighs.

“Y/n.” You answered, silently begging his fingers to continue upwards.
Jimin pulled his hand away, much to your dismay, however you quickly realized that the car was no longer moving, and you were in fact in front of his apartment building.

“C'mon princess.” Jimin beckoned, his arm slung around your shoulders as you walked to his door.

Once inside, his arm immediately pulled your body between himself and the door, and you could feel him through his jeans as he pressed against you.

“Do you know how badly I wanted to just take you in the middle of that dance floor? You’re so goddamn irresistible.” He smashed his lips into yours, dominating your tongue with ease. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his neck, desperate to get closer.

Jimin patted the back of your thigh, signaling for you to jump up. You did, and you wrapped your legs around him as he gripped your ass and carried you to what you presumed was his bedroom.

The two of you fell onto his mattress, his hands tugging the hem of your dress as his lips attacked your neck and collar bones, more than likely leaving brilliant red marks in his wake. You helped him get rid of your dress, leaving you in only your panties underneath his body.

“Oh you naughty, naughty girl.” Jimin teased as he drank in the sight of your bare torso. His lips latched on to the newly exposed flesh, tongue dancing around your nipple as his hand kneeded your other breast. He worked his way down your body, until he came face to face with your clothed heat.

Jimin nipped at the sensitive skin on your thighs as his thumb rubbed over the damp spot on your underwear.

“We’ve just started and your already this wet princess? I must be doing something right then.” He hooked his fingers around your panties and effortlessly pulled them off of you. A sudden shyness washed over you, and you closed your thighs in an attempt to hide from him. He clicked his tongue in disapproval and placed his hands on your knees.

“Don’t hide something so beautiful from me, especially when I want it so badly.” Jimin scolded, spreading your legs. He groaned at the sight of your entrance, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. He barely wasted anytime before you felt his tongue flick against your clit, causing you to buck your hips against his face. He pressed your hips down, keeping you in place while his tongue danced across your folds.
You let out one high pitched moan after the other, your fingers finding their way into his hair as you tried to reach your climax. Just as your thighs began to tremble, Jimin’s tongue disappeared, and so did your orgasm. You cried out in protest, desperate for release.

You sat up and saw him nearly ripping his clothes off. You opened your mouth to question him, but he interrupted as he pulled his boxers off, his erection standing proudly.

“You’re going to finish around my cock, princess.” He stroked himself a few times before reaching for the shiny foil packet that sat on his night stand.

“Get on your hands and knees.” He instructed, and you obeyed without protest, ready to chase your orgasm again. Jimin pulled you to the edge of his bed by your waist, positioning you so that he could fuck you properly.

He rubbed the tip of his length against your aching clit, and your back arched. Your body was so responsive to his touch that it put your nerves on edge.

“Are you ready, princess?” Jimin asked gently, his hand resting on the base of your spine. You gave him permission to continue, and he kissed the spot his hand had rested before aligning himself with you.

As Jimin pushed himself inside you, you let out a long, breathy moan that echoed of the walls of the room.

“Holy shit, Princess, you’re so fucking tight.” Jimin praised as he began thrusting deeply into you. He started off at a steady pace, making sure he wasn’t hurting you any before speeding up.

With every moan that spilled from your lips, his hips began to move faster and faster, until he was pounding into you at a speed that was sinful. He couldn’t help but groan at the feeling of your tight walls quivering around him as he slammed into you.

You became breathless once he found your sweet spot, and you were panting as you felt your climax building up.

“Please Jimin, don’t stop!” You shouted, fingers digging into the sheets as your vision began to blur in pleasure.

“You can do it princess, cum for me!” He growled, never letting up on his speed. You felt your walls pulse around him, you could no longer support yourself as you came around him. You whimpered as he continued thrusting into your overly sensitive area, feeling as if every single nerve in your body was on fire.

Within a short amount of time, Jimin brought you right back to the edge, and you could feel tears pricking your eyes. You had never felt so much intense pleasure at once.

“Can you cum one more time for me, Princess?” Jimin asked. You moaned out something vaguely similar to a yes, and he praised you on how good you were doing for him.

With a few more rough and fast snaps of his hips, you screamed as your second orgasm washed over you even harder than the first. This time, you felt Jimin twitch inside of you, and you knew he was about to finish too.

“Fuck, (y/n), princess-” Jimin cried out, his thrusts becoming sporadic as he came. You groaned as he stilled inside of you, his breathing trying to become steady. He pulled out of you, and you collapsed from your position, your face pressed into the sheets.

You heard him walk away from you, guessing he was headed to the bathroom, and you suddenly felt sad. He was probably ready for you to leave, and it made you feel strange for some reason. You decided you would call a taxi, but before you could get up and look for your phone, you felt something wet between your thighs. You flinched from the sensation, and looked up to find Jimin standing over you.

“Shhh, baby, I’m just cleaning you up a little bit before we go to sleep. Do you want anything to wear, princess?” He asked as he gently wiped your thighs clean.

“Sleep?” You mumbled, “you’re letting me stay?”

Jimin smiled softly, “Well of course, I’m not just going to kick you out. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I would really be happy if you did.”

You grinned, realizing how sweet he was.

“In that case, may I have a shirt?”

Jimin nodded, making his way to his dresser. He pulled out a pair of boxers for himself, then tossed you a baggy t-shirt. You pulled it over your head and laid down, aware of how exhausted your body was. Jimin soon joined you, placing an arm over your waist and kissing your shoulder before wishing you sweet dreams. You smiled as you drifted off to sleep, content in his arms.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be the last you saw of Jimin.

gecktron  asked:

Can you give us a short overview of Blay and Ros' story, now that blos has returned from the dead?

Ros is an extroverted loud memelord. Stops talking to point at dogs on the street. Eager to start a discourse at all times, especially when it comes to pineapple on pizza. Dabs. 24/7 cheerful. Has no idea what is going on, ever. Pure.

Blay is a walking existential crisis. Has dark past™ and because of it he’s 10/10 insecure about his body, especially hands. Wears gloves 24/7. Social anxiety present at all times but he never shows it. If he had to get to 36th floor in an elevator with a stranger, he would take the stairs with no hesitation. Pineapple on pizza. Curses. Touch him and he will floor you immediately.

The story itself is kinda complicated and not done yet, so can’t be revealed right now. We can call them partners in crime tho. For various circumstances they are forced to help each other to achieve a certain goal. They don’t like each other at the begining but oh well

Better man

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2016
Day Two, March 7
Non-canon/ Headcanon: “Victorian Sherlolly”
Author: @potemkinx
Artist: Flavialikestodraw

It was a cold and windy afternoon in March, when Sherlock Holmes saw her again. The sunset was coming near, and the pedestrians below on the street scuttled on the street, eager to avoid the suffragist rally that was taking place; it was the best time for the famous consulting detective to practice his deductive skills, while he smoked lazily his pipe.

Five years had passed since one of his most baffling case: Watson had named it “The abominable bride”, and for many months the press had harassed both of them about the case’s conclusion. It was strange enough for the famous consulting detective admitting that he couldn’t solve a case; even more strange, the case’s ending coincided with the sudden departure of one of the most respected pathologist in London, Mark Hooper. Despite his notorious fiery temper, many at Scotland Yard missed his competence, just as much as his ability to hold his own when Sherlock Holmes was around.

The reason behind his leaving seemed legitimate at the time: he had to return to Edinburgh to take care of his nubile sister; the poor woman was never very healthy, and her older sibling constantly worried about her.

When Doctor Hooper failed to return after more than six months away from London, Inspector Lestrade tried to contact him, but in vain. Word was that he had left England to go to the States, after his sister got engaged to a sworn notary; when Lestrade tried to involve Holmes in his investigation, he received only obstinate silence from the consulting detective, and nothing more than a few sympathetic words from Doctor Watson.

And now, Hooper was back. Not the Hooper that Lestrade, or Anderson, would recognise if they met her in the street, obviously; she was the real Hooper, the one that had plagued his thoughts, and sometimes his dreams, for many years.

Holmes pulled aside the curtain, careful to remain hidden from her sight, in case she decided to raise her gaze from the street. She looked older, of course: more wrinkles had appeared around her soft brown eyes, and her lips seemed almost thinner… Now that they were not behind those ugly fake moustache. A breath of wind made her hat fly away, showing him the long chestnut hair that she hid for years under a wig.

He watched as she moved to retrieve her hat, before she joined once again the other protesters, who were currently demonstrating down the street. Her stride was as determined, and unladylike, as ten years before; he didn’t doubt that the same determined spirit dwelt in her heart. He could understand their frustration; the war against the privileges given to men only because of their genre, was one that they deserved to win, and as quickly as possible.

Her competence and talent deserved to be acknowledged by the world, without forcing her to hide behind a clever disguise. The world deserved more women like Molly Hooper; and he couldn’t help to think, that maybe one day he would be a better man, worthy of her, too.

anonymous asked:

HELLO! I've got a prompt for ya if you feel like writing it xo. Felicity is having a particularly difficult time convincing Oliver to spend Halloween night prowling around the streets hooded up and blending with the masses. She opts to join him in her own costume. Double Kudos for sexy Felicity and distracted/protective/horny Oliver xD

[AO3]

Oliver glared down at his bow and quiver, his mouth set in a flat line of annoyance. “For the last time, Felicity. No.”

“Come on, Oliver.” Felicity whined, employing every advantage known to man in an effort to convince him. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was safe.”

Oliver huffed a rough laugh through his nose, earning himself a set of narrowed, brilliant blue eyes from his partner. “I think we both know personal safety is never among your top priorities.” he pointed out.

“My own, maybe not.” Felicity conceded, “But we also both know that your safety and keeping your identity safe are both always at the top of my list of priorities.”

“I’m not even going to comment on how backwards that shit is.” Roy commented, shaking his head as he adjusted the bat ears on his head.

“Good.” Oliver sneered. “The opinion of a traitor means less than nothing, anyway.”

Roy chuckled heartily. “Get over it, Queen. It’s your own fault that Wayne’s getup is better than yours. There’s no excuse for lazy costuming.”

Felicity smacked Roy in the fake muscles of his chest as he straightened his cape. “Says the guy whose costume is an exaggerated replication of said getup?”

“Right, but we all know how lazy I am.” Roy shrugged.

Felicity rolled her eyes but returned her attention to Oliver. “Please, Oliver? The rest of us will be in costume, too. Digg and Lyla are going as Clark and Lois. Or, well, Superman and his mystery girlfriend, anyway. Roy and Thea are going as Batman and Catwoman, and Laurel and Sara are both going as Canary. Nyssa is going as herself, as are Ray and Ted. Barry’s going as Iron Man and Iris is going as Black Widow. There will be a plethora of superheroes in which you can blend. No one will know.”

“Who are you?” Oliver asked, not unaware that Felicity had neglected to name herself.

“Oh.” Felicity swallowed thickly and looked down at her twisting fingers, a light shade of pink staining her cheeks. “Well, I… I’m going as Hawkeye.”

“Hawkeye.” Oliver tilted his head in question. “As in Clint Barton, Hawkeye?”

Felicity’s shoulders went up, refusing to let Oliver criticize her choice. “Yes, that Hawkeye. Do we know another?”

“No.” Oliver smiled softly. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Felicity tossed her loose blonde hair over her shoulder as she turned on her heel and headed for the stairs. “Well, that’s who I chose. So, either you suit up or you don’t. Either way, this city will have a bow wielding guardian tonight.”

Oliver watched her climb the stairs, trying hard not to watch her hips sway. When door closed behind her Oliver dragged a hand over his face, scratching at his scruff as he turned back toward the rest of the lair, only to find Roy standing right behind him, bow and quiver extended toward him.

Oliver sighed, shoulders slumping, but he accepted the offerings without comment.

“This is going to either be an epic success, or an absolute disaster.” Roy muttered as he shoved past Oliver in a swirl of fabric.

*

 

Keep reading

9

Forever Together by Steve Powers aka ESPO

After seeing photos of this mural pop up I knew I had to make time to see it. It was really hard to find at first because Eager breaks up at certain points. When we finally did spot it in the distance it seemed even more impressive to us. We spent probably an hour here walking up and down the street. I had the pleasure of running into Dino and Jeff (pictured under HOME) who have lived in this neighborhood since the 1960s. I asked them to be in the photo because it seemed all too appropriate. According to another neighbor this entire block of homes will be demolished sometime in July, so see it while you can.

2300-2400 block of east Eager Street, east Baltimore, Md.