emotions swell

The 100 Best Deep Cuts by 21st Century Pop Stars: Critics' Picks

Billboard

52. Taylor Swift, “State of Grace” (Red, 2012)

Stadium rock has rarely been Taylor Swift’s delivery system of choice for her pop mission statements, but she opted to open 2012 transition album Red with the echoing guitars and chest-beating chorus of “State of Grace.” An inspired choice: The instrumental and emotional swell of “Grace” – which already starts at like a 7 or 8 – gives it a wallop quite unlike anything in Swift’s catalog, particularly on the chorus (“And I never saw you coming/ And I’ll never be the same”), which says everything it needs to say in so few syllables, it stretches out a couple longer anyway just to fill time. – A.U.

18. Taylor Swift, “Dear John” (Speak Now, 2010)

On 2010’s Speak Now, a Taylor Swift album full of rich deep cuts, “Dear John” is the one that towers over all of them, a searing takedown of a certain older singer-songwriter named John that demonstrated the depth of Swift’s ability. Few artists can craft a six-minute song with this much clarity and urgency; each bruised syllable is essential, every seething accusation methodically rolled out, like Taylor is presenting a legal case against an ex. But “Dear John” is not detached – it’s surgical, but full of the betrayal that anyone past a first crush can understand. It’s a perfect song to scream along to with friends, or cry along with in solitude. – J. Lipshutz

3. Taylor Swift, “All You Had to Do Was Stay” (1989, 2014)

Obviously, there’s no shame in not being picked as a single off an album with five top 10 hits. A prime 1989 deep cut is most pop artists’ lead single, and besides, “Wildest Dreams” and “Out of the Woods” have nothing on this pristine synth-pop nugget. The breakup song is certainly well-mined territory for Swift, though that simple “Stay!“ – in all its pitch-upped glory – captures the manic desperation of a sudden split like few four-letter cries could. There’s no less than 25 stays for everyone in the stadium or the karaoke room to shout out, and the way the chorus sprawls out and lets its hook run wild – those “had me in the palm of your hand” parts – drives home the true lesson of "Stay”: Don’t let go of a good thing, and once you’ve got it, call up Max Martin. – C.P.

billboard.com
The 100 Best Deep Cuts by 21st Century Pop Stars: Critics' Picks
To pay tribute to the lesser-celebrated gems hiding in plain sight within the pop sphere, Billboard compiled a list of our 100 favorite deep cuts from pop stars this century.

Taylor is featured a few times on Billboard’s Critic’s Picks 100 Best Deep Cuts by 21st. Century Pop Stars 

52. Taylor Swift, “State of Grace” (Red, 2012)

Stadium rock has rarely been Taylor Swift’s delivery system of choice for her pop mission statements, but she opted to open 2012 transition album Red with the echoing guitars and chest-beating chorus of “State of Grace.” An inspired choice: The instrumental and emotional swell of “Grace” – which already starts at like a 7 or 8 – gives it a wallop quite unlike anything in Swift’s catalog, particularly on the chorus (“And I never saw you coming/ And I’ll never be the same”), which says everything it needs to say in so few syllables, it stretches out a couple longer anyway just to fill time. – A.U.

18. Taylor Swift, “Dear John” (Speak Now, 2010)

On 2010’s Speak Now, a Taylor Swift album full of rich deep cuts, “Dear John” is the one that towers over all of them, a searing takedown of a certain older singer-songwriter named John that demonstrated the depth of Swift’s ability. Few artists can craft a six-minute song with this much clarity and urgency; each bruised syllable is essential, every seething accusation methodically rolled out, like Taylor is presenting a legal case against an ex. But “Dear John” is not detached – it’s surgical, but full of the betrayal that anyone past a first crush can understand. It’s a perfect song to scream along to with friends, or cry along with in solitude. – J. Lipshutz

3. Taylor Swift, “All You Had to Do Was Stay” (1989, 2014)

Obviously, there’s no shame in not being picked as a single off an album with five top 10 hits. A prime 1989 deep cut is most pop artists’ lead single, and besides, “Wildest Dreams” and “Out of the Woods” have nothing on this pristine synth-pop nugget. The breakup song is certainly well-mined territory for Swift, though that simple “Stay!“ – in all its pitch-upped glory – captures the manic desperation of a sudden split like few four-letter cries could. There’s no less than 25 stays for everyone in the stadium or the karaoke room to shout out, and the way the chorus sprawls out and lets its hook run wild – those “had me in the palm of your hand” parts – drives home the true lesson of "Stay”: Don’t let go of a good thing, and once you’ve got it, call up Max Martin. – C.P.

Intertwined Destinies I: A Great and Terrible Power

In the ‘Intertwined Destinies’ meta series, I intend on taking a deep dive into the mysterious connection between Rey and Kylo Ren in The Last Jedi. In this first instalment, I cover their pasts - exploring what might have brought Rey and Kylo to where we find them in The Force Awakens, and how their histories may be paralleled and, potentially, overlap.

The Story of Ben

“I’ve seen this raw strength only once before. It didn’t scare me enough then. It does now.”

In The Force Awakens, we get only the vaguest allusion to the tragedy that sent Luke Skywalker into hiding and marked the start of Ben Solo’s descent to the dark side. The explanation comes from Han Solo:

“One boy, an apprentice, turned against him and destroyed it all. Luke felt responsible. He just…walked away from everything.”

That boy, of course, was Ben - Han’s own son and Luke’s star pupil, who Mark Hamill has spoken of in the following terms:

“[Luke] made a huge mistake in thinking that his nephew was the chosen one, so he invested everything he had in Kylo, much like Obi-Wan did with my character. And he is betrayed, with tragic consequences. Luke feels responsible for that.”

This builds up an evocative picture of Ben Solo’s fall that is returned to in the trailer for The Last Jedi, which actually gives the event a different slant. With trailer-appropriate portentousness, we hear Luke speak fearfully of a terrible power that he failed to take seriously enough before. This dialogue is laid over shots of what we must assume is the destruction of Luke’s temple, including this one:

Here, we see Luke clawing his way free from beneath a pile of flaming timbre. This image alone is extremely striking, and raises an interesting possibility for what might have happened at the temple. It has previously been assumed (at least by me) that Luke was absent when Ben enacted his betrayal and killed his fellow Jedi in training, but this shot represents a strike against that interpretation - instead, it suggests something sudden and explosive that took Luke by surprise and unfolded before he could prevent it. 

Keep reading

Reluctant Reconciliation

Summary: Being Sam Winchester’s Omega was wonderful… when he was actually there. Yes, he was kind and loving, but he’d spend weeks away from you, only stopping by when he needed to. Two years of living on the outskirts of Sam’s life is starting to take its toll.
Pairing
: Alpha!SamxOmega!Reader
Words
: 4704 (whoa)
Warnings
: A/B/O Dynamics. Pining (is that a warning?). Talk of sex. 
AN: The long awaited sequel for Reluctant Rejection!!! There will be a third part. I promise you, it will be a lot shorter than this… this one got out of hand  XD
Anywhooo, hope you enjoy it! I have some worries that I may have waffled, but @skybinx-blog assures me otherwise…
Constructive Criticism Welcome!!!

Reluctant Rejection

***

The damn thermos was the only thing that was still the same.

After you’d made Sam leave, you’d spent the best part of two weeks just living on the couch. You’d had no energy to drag yourself far, and the sofa put you equidistant to the fridge and the bathroom, meaning you didn’t really have much need to move. With shaking limbs, you’d decided that enough was enough. You had to keep living your life, and that meant moving on from your Alpha, even if he had been your true mate.

So, you fell into a routine to try and keep you grounded. Wake up, work, eat, sleep, repeat. Unfortunately, you had no idea if it would have worked, because it didn’t take long for your heat to hit once again. This time there was no Sam walking through your door to comfort you, no Sam to wrap his arms around you and hold you close, no Sam to show you how much he loved you.

You’d never felt agony like it. Sure, heats had always sucked ass, but what you experienced was far beyond any pain they’d caused you before you’d met Sam. There was no need to seek out an explanation for it, though. You knew it was because your whole being was craving your Alpha.

What you also realised during this time was that Sam’s scent was saturated into every part of your house. Sure, it might have been vaguely faded, but it was there, and in your sensitive state you’d torn up a large part of your home in an effort to seek it out, desperate for something more substantial than a weak scent clinging to your mattress. Once you were over the worst of it, you started on your next endeavour to move on.

You gutted your house.

There was no way you wanted to suffer like you had during your last heat, and so you did what you had to. All things that you knew you would never rid of Sam’s warm smell was to be tossed out. Your mattress and all your bedding went first, quickly followed by your sofa and curtains, and then the carpets. Even the doormat that Sam himself had bought you got tossed out, only pausing briefly to look at the strange pentagram that you spotted on its underside, painted on in a colour that was just off from the mat’s colour. Unnerved slightly with this discovery, you pressed on.

Everything that you kept went through a serious cleaning. No surface went un-scrubbed, and you painstakingly re-varnished all the wooden surfaces.

Not to mention you decided that, with new furniture and a new life, you would rearrange everything and have a new layout. This brought to surface the second thing that unnerved you… the little fabric pouches that started popping up in random places.

Regardless, you persevered, and soon it looked as though you’d moved into a new house.

Except for the goddamn thermos.

Keep reading

BTS Reaction to finding you asleep while waiting for them

request: Will you do a reaction to them coming back from a late practice with the group and finding you sleeping on the couch from waiting on them. Thank you!! 💕

[requests are closed]


❋ Kim Seokjin ❋

When Jin walked in and found you asleep on the couch, his heart immediately melted at the sight. Quietly, he would sit down beside you and stroke your cheek, a loving expression evident on his face. Jin wouldn’t want to wake you up, but would anyway because he didn’t want you sleeping on the couch. Next time though, he’d probably tell you not to stay so late trying to wait for him.

“I love you, but I don’t want you to stay up just for me okay?”

Originally posted by bwiseoks

❋ Kim Namjoon ❋

Namjoon would smile at the sight of you passed out on the couch. He found it cute that you would try to stay up and wait for him to get home from practice. Without saying anything, he would gently pick you and bring you to the bedroom, not wanting you to wake up from all the noise the rest of the were making.

“I’m gonna take them upstairs, so be quiet all of you.”

Originally posted by yoonseok

❋ Min Yoongi ❋

I can only imagine Yoongi looking down at you with a fond expression and gently stroking your cheek. He honestly didn’t care that he was being soft in front of the other boys, the love he had for you was something he truly cherished. Yoongi would kiss your forehead and probably tell the others to go home before they woke you up.

“I know I’m being soft. I don’t care.”

Originally posted by yoongiyi

❋ Jung Hoseok ❋

Hoseok would frown a bit at your sleeping figure. He didn’t like that you wanted to stay up late waiting for him to finish practice. Hoseok appreciated that you always took the effort to welcome him home from a long day, but at the same time he always wanted for you to be well rested. He’d press a small kiss to your lips and would bring you upstairs so that the both of you could sleep.

“Yahhh, don’t stay up so late jagiya.”

Originally posted by yourpinkpill

❋ Park Jimin ❋

Jimin would feel his heart swell with emotions when he seen you fast asleep waiting for him. He’d quietly crouch down in front of you and pepper small kisses on your forehead, cheeks and lips in attempt to wake you from your slumber. Jimin will whisper softly in your ear and shake you gently because even though he didn’t like waking you up, he wanted for you to feel comfortable.

“C’mon love, let’s get you into bed.”

Originally posted by yahjiminie

❋ Kim Taehyung ❋

Taehyung would probably yell at the other boys to be quite and will wake you up because of it. He’d apologize multiple times and would offer to go upstairs with you after he showered so that the both of you could cuddle and fall asleep. He would also ask one of the others to carry you up to the room if you fell asleep again, just so that you were comfortable and wasn’t cramped on the couch.

“Can you take them up if they fall asleep?”

Originally posted by kingsobi

❋ Jeon Jungkook ❋

When he found you asleep on the couch, Jungkook would probably grab a pillow or blanket and will join you on the couch. As gently as possible, he would shift you a bit so that you were lying on top of him with his arms wrapped around you. Jungkook would press a kiss to your forehead and would fall asleep with you in his arms.

“My sleepy prince/princess.”

Originally posted by nnochu

Monster (boyf riends, post Squip)

I’m posting this again without a read more because i was getting people saying they couldn’t see it on mobile. 

Prompt 11: You’re a monster.

Send me a prompt


“Hey,” Michael says, looking at him with a grin. They’re sitting next to each other in front of the tv, controllers in their hands. Jeremy turns to look at Michael who’s facial expression betrays no emotion. Michael tilts his head to the side, opens his mouth and without moving his lips says, “You’re on my side right?”

Jeremy immediately gets the sinking feeling that there’s something terribly wrong but he can’t understand why. “Yeah of course dude.” He swallows, he doesn’t know why it comes out so monotone. “We’re never not gonna be a team.”

The scene changes and he’s in the mall. There’s a hand on his shoulder and he doesn’t have to look to know who it is. What it is, his mind supplies for him. He looks anyway, The Squip is looking down on him, it seems to be larger than it ever was before and suddenly Jeremy can’t move.

You’re nothing without me.

The words echo in his head, it’s the Squip’s voice but the Squip next to him doesn’t seem to be talking. It just stares, eyes boring down into him while putting pressure on the hand still on Jeremy’s shoulder. He want’s to shrug it off, wants to step away, run as far as he can get, but his feet won’t obey him. He’s stuck in place, he can’t even turn his eyes away from the Squip’s gaze.

You’re terrible. Horribly pathetic.

He wants to slump down, look down at his feet avoid those empty eyes, but whatever force is keeping him in place won’t even let him do that. His back is straight and he’s staring right back at the Squip. The pose does nothing to mimic how he’s feeling and that loss of control makes him want to scream.

You have one redeeming factor in your life Jeremy Heere and you don’t deserve it.

He wants to scream. Cry. Yell. Do something to make it stop. He knows what’s coming next and he doesn’t want to hear it, would rather hear anything else in that moment than what the Squip is about to tell him.

Sweet Michael. He stood by your side while you were busy pushing him into it. All alone. Completely ignored. What a wicked way to treat your favorite person Jeremy.

“You… made me do that.” Whatever spell is upon him seems to loosen it’s hold. He can’t move, can’t turn his head away but he can speak. Speak words he doesn’t truly believe, but words nonetheless. “Made me…Michael…” he whimpers. Suddenly the Squip’s grip is gone and he’s no longer towering over Jeremy. It’s like he’s vanished into thin air and not three meters behind where the Squip was just standing is Michael. Jeremy slumps as though his strings have been cut, crashing down on his knees, feeling no pain. “Michael,” his voice is pleading but the expression on Michael’s face doesn’t tell him if he’s heard jeremy. “Michael,” he repeats and his voice is nothing more than a sob, “Michael I’m-” as if the word had been plucked off his tongue it’s gone. He tries again but it’s like he’s choking on it. Michael only watches him, does nothing but look down at where Jeremy is groveling in front of him.

You can’t fix this Jeremy. You were the one who ruined things in the first place and you can’t even do this simple thing.

He can’t tell if there are tears but he knows he’s crying, he knows he feels like his world is being torn apart. Michael hates him, and he can’t even begin to fix it. He’s repeating Michael’s name like a mantra, pleading with him to understand, to pick up on what he’s trying to say.

The next voice that echoes in his head isn’t the Squip’s.

You left me.

Jeremy screams.

I was all alone.

He sobs until his throat is sore.

After everything we’ve been through-

He doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore, only knows he’s in pain. His chest hurts, he’s not sure if he can breathe, not sure if he deserves to.

-and now you can’t even say sorry.

“Jeremy.

You’re a monster Jeremy.

“Jeremy wake up.

He startles awake to a rough shake of his shoulders. He grapples with the arms of whoever’s holding him down, his eyes refuse to focus on whats in front of him and it takes too long for him to return enough to his body to realize where he is and who’s with him.

“Michael…” he whispers hoarsely, and the tears return to him. Or maybe they never left. He looks up at Michael’s wide eyes, filled with fear and concern, and feels himself cry harder. Loud sobs tear out of his throat as he unwillingly relaxes his grip on Michael’s arms. In return Michael pulls away from Jeremy’s shoulders, now secure in the fact that Jeremy won’t hurt either of them. His hands hover uncertainly over Jeremy as if he’s unsure what to do.

“Jeremy…” he whispers softly, his voice is smooth and warm in all the ways Jeremy doesn’t deserve and the sobs that wreck his body become more frantic, until he feels like he can’t catch his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he wails and sees Michael’s own eyes filling with tears, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it wouldn’t let me say it but I’m sorry.” Michael stops hesitating and shifts closer, lays himself down next to Jeremy, so that they’re facing each other.

“I know,” he whispers, not trusting his voice, “I know you’re sorry, I hear you, I forgive you Jeremy.” He lets out a quiet sh sound and reaches up to stroke Jeremy’s hair and presses a kiss on top of his forehead. “You’ve already said you’re sorry, and I’ve already forgiven you, Jer. We’re good,” he reminds. He hushes softly when Jeremy starts to hiccup and forces his arm under Jeremy’s body so he can pull the other close. Jeremy responds by clutching the front of Michael’s pajama t-shirt and pushing closer so that he can nuzzle into Michael’s neck. His entire body is trembling with emotion and he’s still sniffling forcefully, but the sobs have stopped and he’s breathing okay now. Michael will take what he can get.

“I’m sorry…” Jeremy repeats again, his voice barely a whimper and Michael can feel his heart threatening to shatter. He swallows down the lump of emotion that swells up in his throat and only squeezes Jeremy’s body tighter.

“You’re forgiven,” he whispers, “always.”

We gave in to our love in a
bed with white sheets; raw
passion, our bodies coiling
over each other, each kiss
evoking a swell of emotion
in sheer devotion of beauty;
her soft lips, sharp jaw line,
svelte neck; peach cheeks
slightly concave where her
cheekbones subtly convex.
Her elfish eye-brows, one
permanently raised slightly
higher than the other, make
her seem like she teasingly
taunts the world around her.
The closed eyelids I kissed
hide portals to the universe;
a starlit nightfall where I am
only soul, expanding in love.
Zealously, my lips worship
the angelic face of she who is
mine as much as I am hers,
while my hands explore and
my fingers trace the whole
of her body to translate this
pounding of our hearts; the
glowing of our merging souls
into a physical ecstasy that
mimics the universe’s birth.
We become one in both the
tangible and ethereal realm.
And it all makes sense now,
and it is all too beautiful.
—  In utter devotion, by M.A. Tempels © 2017
Clair(e)voyance

2.9

As the hot spray pounded against her neck and between her shoulder blades, Claire could feel the day’s tensions wash away.  Despite the candles in that close room, she felt chilled.  Despite the fact that Thomas Baxter would be alright, she felt anxious.  The close-to-scalding hot shower helped wash away the insanity of the evening.

She could hear the doorbell when she shut off the water.  

Insistent.  Annoying.  Continuous.

“What in the hell!”  Claire wrapped herself in a robe, and grabbed a towel to work the water out of her hair.  

The ringing continued.  

She stormed down the stairs, knowing full well who would dare show up at this time of night.  

She checked the peephole.  

Jamie.  

His mahogany hair a tumbled mess as if he’d run his hand through the curls a dozen times.  His face like granite.  His eyes narrowed slits. 

For a brief moment she considered not opening the door.  

The bell rang again and she jumped.  

“Dammit, Claire!”  He punctuated his curse by pounding on the barrier. 

She slide the chain free, then unlocked the deadbolt.  

“What is your problem?” she said as she flung the door wide.  

“Are ye mad, woman?”  Jamie stepped into her foyer, anger radiating from him.  He slammed the door behind him. 

“What are you talking about?”  The water from her hair was dripping down her neck, snaking it’s way down her spine.

“Why would ye go to Ste. Anne’s?  Why would ye no’ stay put!”  Jamie jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from throttling her. 

“Shauna called me!  I went to help.  If I hadn’t the boy would have died!”  She crossed her arms to keep from throttling him.

Jamie stood still.  Breath laboured.  Eyes closed briefly. 

“I’m waiting for you to say something.  Anything, really, that resembles an apology.”  She had to know she was wrong.

“An apology?” She was incredulous.  Was he serious?  “For what?”

“God, Claire!” he growled, grabbing her shoulders in his large hands.  “Ye take it into yer mind to do as ye damn well please.  Ye had no business going in there alone!”

“That boy was in danger!”  Claire was livid.  “I tried to call you.  You didn’t answer!”  She shoved at his chest, trying to break free from his hold.  “I’m a bloody doctor.  I’ll go wherever I’m needed!”  

When he didn’t release her she looked him square in the eye and spat out the the truth of it.  “It’s your fault.”

“My fault?” Jamie’s russet eyebrows rose impossibly high.  “How de ye figure that?”

“You kissed me,” Claire said.  “And I saw what you’d be walking into.”

Jamie staggered backwards.

Is this it then? Jamie thought.  Is this how it will be?  Never being able to shield my thoughts?  Being with someone who can access a part of me, but that I can never really know in the same way?  

Fear forced the next words out of his mouth.

“Ye told me ye didna see…with people ye were…connected to.  So what is this, then,” he said, waving his hand between them.  “We just get together for the occasional fuck?”

He felt the sting of her hand as it connected with his cheek.  She hit him so hard his eyes watered. He breathed through the sharp pain, knowing he deserved it.

“Fuck?”  Her voice was shaking.

He looked back to see her eyes dark with anger.  And hurt.  

“Maybe that’s your style, Detective Sergeant Fraser, just like it was Frank’s.  A casual romp with whoever’s handy.  Do you like them younger, too?”  She wanted her words to hurt.

“But that’s not me.  I’m not so shallow.  I don’t fuck men I’m not in love with.”

The minute the words were out of her mouth she wanted to snatch them back.

Oh God, Claire Randall, you absolute fool.  What have you done?  

Jamie’s smile was smug.  

“Ye love me.”

“I never said that.”  Her voice was haughty.  Clipped.  Properly British. 

“Aye.  Ye did.”  He took a step towards her.  “Ye said you have to be in love before ye share yer body.”  She stepped to his left, and he countered, keeping her in front of him.  “And ye’ve shared yer body wi’ me plenty of times.”

“I didn’t mean it.”  Claire lifted her chin in a show of bravado.  

“Didn’t mean the sex?  Or the words?”  She wanted an interrogation, did she?

“Yer a terrible liar, Dr. Randall.  Truly.”  Jamie stepped towards her again, backing her up against the stair wall without touching her.  

“Just so we’re clear,”  Jamie said, tilting his head, lips almost touching hers.  “I’m in love wi’ you, too.”


“Tell me everything.”  She slowly pulled his belt free from their loops.

He reached for the cloth belt of her robe.  “The minute ye mentioned the word origins I realized I was comin’ at the clues the wrong way.  Bone.  Up near Inverness we say it ‘bane’.”  

He worked at the knot until it fell open to reveal her.  “And the other words were all synonymous with bane. When I looked at the Parish staff list again it jumped right out at me.  Father Bain.”  

He leaned down and kissed the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Claire shivered.

“How did ye ken what to do?”  Jamie slowly pushed the fabric from her shoulders.

Claire worked at the button of his trousers.  “I saw what you would be walking into.  I could see how crazed a man Father Bain was.  And the flash I got showed a boy clearly in respiratory distress.”  

Jamie sighed as the sound of his zipper filled the air.  He swallowed.  Hard.  

“I just….knew…what I would need.  So I grabbed the supplies from the hospital and headed over there.”

“So, do ye still see us?” Jamie whispered.    

“I see quite a bit, actually,” Claire said, and slipped her hand into his pants.


“What do ye see now?”

“Oceans,” she said, looking into the deep blue of his eyes. 

“Fires,” she said, running her fingers through his hair.

“Come now, Sorcha,” he whispered.  “Ye see nothing?”

“I’m not a Magic 8 Ball, Jamie.  It doesn’t work that way.”  

The truth was she saw forever.  When his lips met hers she saw a lifetime.  She saw love and laughter and pain and sorrow.  

She saw everything she ever wanted, and more.

But she wouldn’t tell him that.  

Couldn’t.  

She was too afraid.  It was one thing to admit she loved him, quite another to admit that she saw a future.  

Because Claire didn’t get futures.  She didn’t get Happily-Ever-Afters.  

She got parents who died when she was five.  She got an upbringing devoid of friends her own age.  She got a husband who was never satisfied with or by her.  She got widowhood at a young age.  

Hope was not something Claire was used to, not something she trusted.

But she could be somewhat honest.  

“I see you and I, Jamie.  For right now, I see us.”

She rocked her hips, riding him slowly.  Jamie closed his eyes and rested his head back against the headboard.  He brought his knees up, felt her lean forward.  He flexed his hips, needing to bury himself.  

She was fireworks.  She went to his head like a strong whisky.  She made him feel possessive, and protective.  Jealous and proud, all at the same time.  He didn’t understand it.  Not one bit of it.  

But damn if he didn’t like it.

Liked being owned by her.

Even liked the fear that coursed through his veins when he opened the door to the chapel and saw her, syringe in hand.  

She made him feel alive, every sense on high alert.  She gave him the same rush being a cop did.  

As she moved a little faster, and ground herself against him a little harder, he met her stroke for stroke.  

And when she shattered around him, he held her firm and drove into her until he lost himself. 


“See ye later?” Jamie took a last sip of the coffee she’d made, and set the cup down on her counter.  He slipped on his coat.  

When he looked up again she was standing there, palm outstretched, arm extended. 

His heart stopped.

Then pounded double time.

He looked at her.  God, she looked so vulnerable.  Emotion swelled, but he controlled it.  

He reached out and took what she offered.  

So shiny.  So new.  

He nodded, and reached into his coat pocket.  Pulled out his key ring, and slipped hers easily through the metal circlet to nestle next to his.  

He couldn’t help the grin that split his face.

“Ye love me.”

“Shut up.”  She blushed.  “I debated, you know.  I’ve never seen your place and here I was getting a key made for you.”

“Och, my place is shit,” Jamie said.  “But if it will make ye feel better I’ll get it fumigated and have ye over this weekend.”

“Fumigated?”  Claire laughed.  “I’ll pass, thank you.”

He pocketed the keys with one hand while he tugged her closer with the other.

“Ye love me,” he said again, wrapping her in his arms.

She wound her arms around his neck.  “Don’t be smug.  You love me, too.”

She ran her hands over his jaw as he kissed her.  

A kiss filled with promise.  

And unfortunately for Claire, filled with hope.

                                             CASE CLOSED

i’m not faking

12. We were pretending to be lovers but I’m not pretending anymore and I have to know if you feel the same way

(I imagine this as happening toward the end of my fake-dating AU that I haven’t written yet, hahaha.)

“Enough.”

The word falls from Bitty’s lips, and Jack stares at him, dumbfounded.

“Enough, Jack,” Bitty says, looking at him with eyes full of tears. Damn it, Jack can’t deal with that, with tears from Bitty of all people. Bitty’s been the strong one, this whole time. He’s carried on this whole charade marvelously, been there for Jack when Jack just wanted to abandon the ruse, convinced him that it was worth it to be a little bit fake in order to be completely true.

“Enough?” Jack echoes. God, how he wants – aches – to cross the room and drag his thumbs across Bitty’s cheeks, chase the tears down, banish them. He aches, more than ever, to close the space between their bodies and kiss Bitty. Not the fake, just-for-show kisses they’ve gotten so used to, but a real kiss, one that’s just for them.

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Tall Drink Of Water

4,500 Followers Oneshot

Summary: The reader introduces Jared to her best friends at a Fall carnival.

Pairing: Jared x Reader

Word Count: 1,306

Halloween Request: @wanderlustindreams


“I really want a caramel apple. Then again I could go for a fried dough.” You ramble on to your boyfriend. “I should probably eat real food first. A hot dog counts as a meal. Right?”

“Y-yeah. Sure.” Jared stumbles out barely acknowledging you, more engrossed in the bumper stickers on the car in front of you.

“We should probably do some of the rides first, it wouldn’t be wise to do them after eating tons of junk.” You think out loud, watching the distracted man next to you nod his head.

“My god. I sound like a sixty year old woman.” With a huff, you dig into your handbag then pull out your favorite lip gloss to reapply it.

“Nah. I’d say fifty.” Jared plasters on a strained smile, then starts adjusting his leather jacket like it’s suddenly too constricting for him.

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there is the ‘push pull’ in scorpio, an inertia met with a storm. there is the very reposed scorpio. emotions are felt with severity and yet the face remains focused and placid. the waves of feeling crash within like a hurricane, and they understands these clouds will pass.

or there is the loss of control, the trance of emotion where the swells of rage and resentment surface, and its mostly the fury at the self that is subjected onto others. they explode and project, also there is the risk of becoming emotionally demanding and exhausting loved ones. the scorpio then feels ashamed about the outburst

and yet scorpio is fixed, but can be trapped in their ways. maybe the person expresses both.

in each demonstration the trauma within remains concealed and private. the scorpio doesn’t want to be defined by his pain, they want to be defined by pure presence and legacy

Marked

Summary: Dean and Sam mark each other permanently.

Warnings: smut, knife play, a little blood play, rough/dirty sex, technically bottom!Dean but it’s obvious that they both top and bottom equally

Word Count: 1600ish

A/N: I have no idea where this came from. Just sat down and this is what came out. Hope ya’ll enjoy, it’s a little darker than I usually write. XOXO


They’re flushed and tangled in the backseat, both of them ignoring the fact that they aren’t teenagers anymore and it’s hard for them both to fit comfortably now. Not that they care. They aren’t looking for personal space right now.

Dean slides his leg over, sweaty limb rubbing up underneath Sam’s, and he manages to sit up without poking an elbow in any delicate places.

“Fuck, Sammy,” he pants. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Sam grins back. “It was.”

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Just A Nightmare

Request: Omg could you please do something Where what happened in tonight’s episode with Cas happens, but it’s the reader’s dream and she wakes up and Cas is right there and completely fine and he comforts and cuddles her?? I need this so much rn

Pairing: Castiel x reader

Word Count: a little less than 1k. I know it’s short, but I think it gets the job done.

Warnings: *SPOILERS FROM 12X23!* angst, but it gets resolved bc WE ALL NEED THIS FLUFF RIGHT NOW

x

You sat on the opposite side of Mary on the bed, squeezing Kelly’s hand as she got through another contraction. It was then that you heard Sam and Dean speaking in rushed, frantic tones outside, and you looked at Mary with worry in your eyes.

“Do you mind if I—“

“Go check on them,” she nodded. “I’ll stay here.”

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unbreakable

this is just a little spec fic I wrote after tonight’s episode. i’m very sleepy and this is very un-beta-ed, but enjoy!


This wasn’t the first time.

The first time someone had tried to break him.

Physically, mentally, emotionally, he had endured so much in his life, by now he should be numb.

How much easier would it be for him if he just didn’t feel anything anymore?

He had lost track of the days he had spent chained up in this cold, dark room. The hours he was alone were almost harder than Adrian’s visits because the only company he had was the words of his captor echoing in his mind, imprinting themselves as truths, continuing his torture.

Old wounds that had never fully healed had been reopened, not just the ones currently dripping blood all over the concrete he was laying on, but deep emotional ones that had been hastily patched up underneath whatever crisis was more of a priority that year than giving them time to heal. Adrian knew everything about him, knew where to twist the knife to make him scream, to haunt him with memories he had tried to forget.

He knew his teammates were looking for him, knew they wouldn’t stop until they found him, but every minute he spent here made him more afraid that time had run out, that Adrian had gotten to them, one by one, before they got to him.  

The sound of the metal door scraping the floor caused every muscle in his body to tense up in preparation for whatever blow would be delivered to him this time. Would it be the one that finally shattered him?

Lifting his head ever so slightly, he saw in the dim light through his blurred vision a sight that made his breath catch in his throat.  

“Oliver…”

She rushed forward, collapsing to the floor beside him and gently cradling his head in her hands.

“We need to hurry,” John’s voice reached his ears. “Adrian could be back any minute now and we need to get you two on your way.”

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anonymous asked:

Could you do 'things you said when I was crying' for wolfstar?

This thing is a fluff monster.


Sirius could feel it building in his chest. He could feel it burning in his eyes. The awful, suffocated feeling of unshed tears lodged in the back of his throat, making it harder and harder to breathe with every step towards the dormitories he took. He had been taking the stairs two at a time, only his heart was pounding too painfully for that now. You can’t run and hold your breath at the same time.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to break down. He knew how to show emotion. He knew he couldn’t stop emotion. He rode a motorcycle but that didn’t mean he wasn’t powerless under the threat of tears. He just wanted to be alone when it happened. He had to be alone when it happened—whenever it happened. It wasn’t that he didn’t want people to see…

Only it was.

The second he had read the letter from home at breakfast he had felt it. The painful clenching of his heart trying to stay at a steady pace through the waves of hurt crashing over him. He can’t even remember what excuse he’d made to the boys. He can remember Remus’ worried eyes. But none of that matters now. His head is swimming and he falls through the door to their dormitory, tugging at his tie, trying to get some air. His still unmade bed doesn’t look as inviting as it should. He doesn’t want to lay down. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to be alone, but he does…

Sirius slams a hand against a bedpost, cursing. He doesn’t know what he wants, but it certainly isn’t this. The first tears escape and he rests his forehead against the cool wood, breathing through his nose.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the large palms suddenly pressing under his sweater to his hips, warming his clammy skin. He curses internally this time, but he’s too far gone to contain the sobs and the fact that someone, Remus, his Remus, is there wanting to help him only makes him cry harder.

“Hey…” Remus says softly, trying to turn him around. Sirius resists at first but he finally allows himself to face Remus, bringing his hand cup to cover his eyes. He wants the help but he can’t stand needing it. He doesn’t know how to accept it—why should he if he was never offered it before?

Remus’ hands are too quick and he catches Sirius’ hand in his, bringing the fingers to his lips briefly before pressing both of his warm palms to Sirius’ cheeks, one sliding to thumb along his jaw, and the other pushing the hair out of his eyes, getting stray strands to unstick from his wet cheeks. Sirius is trying to breath, and the touch makes it easier and harder at the same time. It calms him, but it makes an entirely different emotion swell up in his chest. It makes him want to cry too.

“Pads, look at me.”

Sirius blinks heavily up at Remus, only then realizing that his fist was tightly wrapped in Remus’ school sweater, no doubt wrinkling it. Remus’ soft strokes on his cheek brought his eyes right back to his.

Remus looks at him steadily, eyebrows pulled together in an emotion that Sirius has to look twice at to read. It’s concern, but it’s also something like confusion. But the look is so gentle and goddamn caring that Sirius wants to just fall into it and never come out.

Remus pushes his hair back again where it had started to fall back, thumb wiping his cheek, “I never see you like this, you know.”

Sirius let out a shuttering breath, briefly closing his eyes, his voice coming out thick, “I know.”

Remus’ thumb catches a fresh tear, his other hand sliding from Sirius’ hair back to his hip, pulling Sirius against his chest, “Is that the point?”

Sirius couldn’t help it, he let his head drop onto Remus’ shoulder, suddenly feeling too tired to stand, “I..”

Remus’ hand moved from his cheek to the back of his neck, fingers messing with the soft hair there, “You don’t want me to see you like this?”

His questions weren’t accusing, simply an attempt to fully understand, an attempt to help. Sirius gripped Remus tighter as he answered, “I don’t- I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“Pads…” Remus’ voice was soft, and he pulled back enough so they were facing each other again, arms looped loosely around each other, “I- I understand others but…” He shook his head, urgency adding to his expression, “But this is me. I- I want to help. God, I’m yours, I’m all yours you just have to let me. You just…” He sighed, thumb brushing over Sirius’ bottom lip, studying his face before continuing, “I’m just trying to say I’m here.”

Sirius felt frozen to the spot, gaze locked on this boy in front of him. On willing, loving, kind Remus who, despite having been through so much, was standing there waiting for any little sign, any little word from Sirius, to help. I’m yours he had said. Sirius almost didn’t know what to do with the phrase.

“I-“ Sirius swallowed, eyes flitting over Remus’ features, “I’ve never had that before, I’ve… I’ve never had- anyone…”

I’ve never had anyone say that he had meant to say, but he supposed the former was true as well.

Remus shushed him softly, “I know. I know you didn’t and I,” A note of anger built in his voice, “hate your family for that I fucking…” He broke off, pressing his lips together before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Sirius’ lips, “I’m just saying I’m here now. You’re okay.”

And maybe the words weren’t yet true, but with Remus there, with Remus saying them, Sirius felt for the first time that they might be. One day.

After Hours - Vulnerable

Hello again! So this is nothing too special, just an idea I had after the finale and then it kinda turned into something that hit me after the RWBY cast was on Always Open. It’s White Rose and I know the last two have been them so promises that the next After Hours will be something else. 

Anyway, also wanted to say that Foxtrot is moving along and will have an update sooner than later. I’m also in the process of outlining a new fic for this hiatus that I’m really excited about and it’ll be coming when Foxtrot is concluded. 

Enough from me. Here’s some BFF Weiss/Ruby


Despite the fact that she was exhausted and her muscles hurt from training and it was already past midnight – Ruby was still awake.

It had been an extremely emotional day. Not only had her sister returned, but they’d run into Weiss as well. They reunions had been everything Ruby imagined they would be. A lot of crying and hugging and a few times here Yang yelled at her – then one time where Weiss did. Then more hugging and Weiss crying and Yang teasing Ruby when she kissed Weiss on the forehead.

She didn’t know what all the fuss was about, it was only because that’s how her dad would always help her stop crying. She wanted to do the same for Weiss. Yang’s snickers and teasing didn’t even make sense but was still annoying.

Though that annoyance couldn’t replace the relief at seeing her partner and big sister again. To have three members of team RWBY together was so wonderful, even though they all felt Blake’s absence.

Yang had promised they’d find her too, that they’d be together again. Yang was so confident, so strong and smiling so much – it made Ruby’s heart swell.

The emotion of the day had overwhelmed her, and even after Yang went out with Qrow and Weiss retired to the room she rented out, Ruby was still wired up and unable to sleep.

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tvline.com
Once Upon a Time's Emilie de Ravin Previews Belle's Return, Happy Ending: 'Prepare to Have a Lot of Emotions'
Tonight on Once Upon a Time (ABC, 8/7c), former series regular Emilie de Ravin returns for an episode that, among other things, takes us back to Belle and Rumplestiltskin’s Storybrooke existe…
By Matt Webb Mitovich

Tonight on Once Upon a Time (ABC, 8/7c), former series regular Emilie de Ravin returns for an episode that, among other things, takes us back to Belle and Rumplestiltskin’s Storybrooke existence before laying out, in spectacular fashion, the road to the couple’s happy ending.

“Prepare to be swept away,” de Ravin advised “Rumbelle” fans during her Q&A with TVLine.

Having laid eyes on the episode, titled “Beauty,” earlier this week (“I was able to do a midnight viewing in my home, when my daughter was asleep!”), the Aussie actress goes on to say, “I feel like it’s a magical little journey. When I watched this episode, I felt like I was taken away on a little journey and I loved that. Prepare to have a lot of emotions — happy, sad, reflective….”

And make no mistake, de Ravin herself felt all the emotions just reading the script by Dana Horgan and Leah Fong. “When you’ve been working on a show for so long, you’re like, ‘This is the seventh season I’ve been reading scripts for this show. I’m not going to cry. Why would I cry?‘” And yet, she did. “I could not get through. I could not get through!” she shares. “And neither could Bobby [Carlyle]. I called Bobby like, “Um, I’m crying…,” and he’s like, “I know!” It’s very, very moving, beautifully written.”

Before said swell of emotion truly gets underway, the hour opens with the simplest of scenes, as Belle and Rumple ready for son Gideon’s first birthday, outside Granny’s diner in Storybrooke. “I love all the scenes, but I love that scene at the start,” de Ravin says. “Rumple and the little baby — and it was such a good little baby [actor]! The simplicity in that scene is so pretty and so lovely.”

Compared to seasons past, where threats were always looming, “Theres no crazy stuff going on — it’s just them.”

CHECK BACK TONIGHT for reactions from both de Ravin and Robert Carlyle on the Rumbelle “journey.”

“I can take care of myself.”

Sequel to “Someone like me doesn’t get happy endings.” 

Word count: 1770

Warnings: blood, broken ribs, angst

Originally posted by wintersthighs

It had been weeks since that night you found Bucky in the kitchen, bleeding, and if he ignored you before, you may as well not exist to him now. When you trained in the gym, his eyes sought everywhere except your face; when you ate with the rest of the team he would leave the room and when he passed you in the pale white hallways, he was like a horse wearing blinders. His coldness shocked you at first because that night, you felt like a barrier had finally been broken down between the two of you; you hardly let anyone get that close to you and the way he avoided you like the plague hurt you more than you thought possible.

Eventually, you were paired together by Steve and Natasha who could see your compatibility on the battlefield. If he needed you somewhere, you were there without him so much as moving a muscle, and vice versa. It was like a certain telepathy had formed between the two of you and anyone could see the bond you had with him, except for him. Or he just refused to acknowledge it. Either way, the only time you interacted was on the battlefield and the only words exchanged between you two were about missions. Neither of you brought up that night in the kitchen and it may as well never have happened for all he cared.

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