hair fling

I have this image of 19 year old Sirius Black with his motorcycle and leather jacket and tattoos walking in a flinging his hair back in the sexiest manner.. like ‘damn this isn’t a boy, it’s a man’.

But then I also have this image of Sirius Black sitting on the couch in a massive t-shirt and Remus’ boxers grinning and watching cartoons at like 6 in the morning whilst eating Frosties and smoking a joint and it’s like ‘nope i was wrong, its a small child

8

MY VIRTUAL MODS FOLDER: PART 1 (BUNS GALORE!)

i saw some other simmers making their own “virtual mods folders,” and since i can’t code very well, this is coming to you in a series of posts that i will be organizing on my page.

(from left to right, top to bottom)

1. @simlaughlove​‘s low double buns (i use both the bangs/no bangs version)

2. @moon-craters​‘s nova hair

3. @pixielated‘s dee bun

4. @khrysasims‘s coachella braid (doublebun version)

5. @gohliad‘s kyoto hair

6. blossom hair from the spring fling stuff pack by @deetron-sims, @pixielated, and @nolan-sims

7. iris hair, also from spring fling stuff

8. @simduction‘s bun low hair

Complicated

Characters:  Dean x Reader, Sam 

Summary:  Dean gets a little jealous/turned on watching reader hustle pool.

Word Count:  2200

Warnings:  Smut, Language

Tags are at the bottom.  As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated.

Originally posted by kissabledeanw

Complicated

I watch her from across the bar, from the booth Sam and I snagged by the wall. She knows my eyes are on her, it’s part of the thrill. It’s her night to hustle pool, she insists on contributing. I know she can handle herself, but I get kinda protective watching her.  

And jealous. I mean, I know it’s part of the con, the way she leans over that table, the way her breasts press together when she lines up a shot. The way she giggles and smiles and teases her marks.  

She told me once that there were two rules for a woman hustling pool. First, make sure the guy you’re hustling feels like he can easily beat you. Building their confidence is key. Second, make them feel like they have a shot at fucking you. Follow those two rules and you’re golden, she said. Every fucking time.

Men underestimate her when she’s in the short skirt and the tank top with plunging neckline. If I’ve learned one thing in this life, it’s never underestimate a woman. She proves the rule. Sam and I always keep a close eye on her, because there’s always that one guy that pushes a little too hard, a little too fast, gets a little too handsy.

She’s never needed us for backup, but it never fails to make my blood boil when they put hands on her. She lets them, it’s part of the game. They’ll wrap an arm around her waist or line up behind her to “help” her with a shot. I know it’s all part of the hustle, but it makes me feel a little crazy. And it makes me horny as fuck.

Keep reading

“The man behind the counter takes your cup of tea,
hands you money and you walk out the door.

Outside, water separates itself from your clothes, your hair,
the ground and flings itself into the sky on your way home.

You step inside and stand in front of the mirror. You smear

the lipstick on your lips back into the tube.

You hide your keys behind a cushion on the couch.
Spend the next ten minutes putting things back in order.

While you’re in the shower, you wipe the nervous
back into your body and tears travel up your cheeks.

Your mind dissolves into a million fragmented pieces
until you catch your breath and lie down. 

You tell someone you love you’re not scared as your mind quiets.
Your hands stop shaking as you pull the covers up and fall asleep. 

The sun creeps down and decides to go to sleep too.”

- Kelsey Danielle, “Reverse Panic Attack”

pidge headcanon power-hour
  • knows ASL, because her brother matt goes nonverbal sometimes
  • WILL lose her glasses when they’re sitting on top of her goddamn head
  • mashes together curse words to create what the rest of the team calls “pidgeisms”
    • “son of a rollicking motherfuck”, “shut up, assdick”, “you little hot pocket of ballshit”
    • normally hunk is the kind of person that scolds ppl for their language but his reaction to pidgeisms is always just “wait, what”
  • plays with hair ties & accidentally flings them across the room
    • hunk: [bends down to examine a hair tie in the hall] she’s been here…….
    • has defo hit shiro in the face with a hair tie when he was in the middle of explaining a mission
  • lance: [excited bouncing] pidge: [excited flapping]
  • can’t fucking spell for shit
  • her hair is a sentient beast, it just……… eats barrettes, and destroys hair ties, and breaks combs. no hair accessory is safe
    • one time one of the mice took a nap on her head while she was programming something, and it took coran, allura, and hunk’s combined efforts to wrestle the fucking thing out of her tangles later
  • uses science as a justification for pretty much everything
    • [draws on keith’s face as he naps in the common room] no hunk it’s fine, this is for a social experiment
    • [hogs the bathroom] excuse me i’m doing SCIENCE in here
    • [fucks up something on a mission] ……….ah, yes, my hypothesis was, um…… incorrect
  • pidge: god, lance never knows when to shut up and hunk’s anxious twittering drives me crazy. and i can’t stand how keith never thinks stuff through, he just actssomeone: wow that sounds awful, i’d hate to have to deal with that pidge: ………….now hold on what the fuck are you implying? deal with that? i’ll have you know my friends are some of the most incredible people in the world and if you ever say anything bad about them–

Rogue One: Havana Nights

rebelcaptain week makeup weekend! | AU of your choice | 910 words | Ao3


Jyn Erso arrives on Jedha, a land fraught between Imperial occupation and those loyal to the rebel cause. As the daughter of high-ranking scientists, she fills her days with books and luxury, dreams of joining the Academy and dedicating her mind to the greatness of the Empire.

She sees little of the world outside.


Krennic. Jyn knows the name because her father does, Galen works for the very same man. And, like his father, Orson Krennic knows what he wants, takes no prisoners to get it. Their evening takes a turn at a local nightclub; Jyn is swept away by the raw, beating life of it. The Jedhans move with a feeling Jyn’s not sure she knows. But at its heart is the face of a friend, and it’s not Krennic but Cassian Andor who shows her what it is to dance.

In a life of rules and uniforms, she never felt so free.


Jyn has a plan.

“But it’s a Ballroom competition,” says Cassian, wary. “That’s not what I do.”

“It’s Latin Ballroom,” Jyn insists. “If we mix what I do with what you do, then we just might have a chance.”

A chance at winning first place. And Cassian’s freedom too.

They take their positions, arms up, backs straight, Jyn marches him stiffly through the routine.

“Why are you so afraid to let me lead you?” Cassian asks gently, and Jyn snaps that she’s not.

“You are,” Cassian answers quietly. “When you’re ready to say you’re afraid, let me know.”

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You Are Mine!

Angry Anti request! I love writing these sorts of fics. 

Fic Request: 
“Hi i was just wondering if you can write an antisepticeye x reader fanfic or headcanon again?? preferably something rough and possessive bc the fluff is nice but i need the good ol aggression. thanks ps. i love ur work with my entire soul”

Warnings: Violence, a bit of blood, bondage.

Originally posted by floralcrownjack

His hand caught your throat, throwing you up against the wall with a loud thud. 
The twitch in his head was wild, flinging his hair left and right, as he snarled at you. 
“So you think you can just walk out?” He scoffed. “I wouldn’t let you, even if you begged for it.” 
You squirmed under his hand. He gripped you tightly enough to stop you from going anywhere, but not enough to completely cut off your air. 
You glared at him, “Let me go, Anti.” 
“Or what?” He spat. “Y-You’ll hit me? Hurt me? Please, you couldn’t harm a flea.” 
Your foot came up between his legs in a vicious kick. He grunted and his grip loosened. You pushed him away and hurried towards the door. 
But before you got three steps, Anti’s hand clasped around your waist and spun you to face him. 
“Come now, Sugarlips.” He cackled. “That wasn’t very nice.” 
You went to kick him again, but his other hand caught your leg before it struck home. He yanked it and you fell to the floor in a crumbled heap. 
Anti trapped you there, holding your wrists to the floor and pinning your body under him. 
“This is what I love,” He said with a wild smile. “This anger! Come on, (Y/N), get mad. Because I’m not going to stop till there’s blood.” 
You wriggled under his body, cursing him, screaming as he laughed. 
Finally, you managed to worm your hand out of his fingers and your fist cracked into the side of his face. 
He laughed, rubbing his cheek with a glint in his eyes. “Yes, Babe, yes. This is what I’ve been waiting for.” 

You glared up at him, suddenly ceasing your struggling. 
He looked down at you, confusion coloring those green eyes. “What are you doing?” 
“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of hitting you again,” You spat up at him. “Go run headfirst into a wall.” 
Anti jaw clenched and he lowered his head down to you, so close your noses were touching. 
“You’re mine, (Y/N).” He growled. “And you’ll do as I say!” 
“Oh really?” You asked. In a blurred movement, you leaned up and kissed his jittering lips. Laughing as he jerked back in surprise. “Aww, surgarlips, that wasn’t very nice.” You cooed. “Come on, give me another one.” 
Anti sneered down at you, “You want to play, babygirl?” 
You nodded, “You started this Anti.” 
The man laughed, gripping your wrists tighter as he pressed himself against you. His lips were inches from yours, his breathe flowing over you as he spoke. 
“Yes, and sweetheart, I’m gonna finish it with a bang.” 
His lips crashed into yours. Quick, painful kisses that left you gasping when he pulled away. 
His teeth scraped your neck, biting hard on your skin and you gasped when he drew blood. His tongue licked over the broken flesh, his hips creating friction between your legs. 
You whimpered, trying to move your arms to hold him. 
“No, no,” He hissed. Anti released one hand and undid his belt. With a sharp flick of his arm, he yanked the leather strap from his pants and tied your wrists together. “Do me a favor,” He purred into your lips. “Don’t stop struggling.” 

You laughed, but the sound turned into a gasp when Anti clawed at your pants. Drawing them down and diving between your legs. 
You moaned, your hips bucking under his hand. His fingers were rough, pumping in and out of you as he continued to attack your lips. 
His teeth latched onto your bottom lip, and you squealed when he bit down. 
Anti chuckled, his eyes flaring as he watched you grind on his fingers. 
“See, you don’t need to go out with anyone to have fun.” He said edgily. “All you need is me.” 
You glared up at him, “Were we getting jealous, Anti?” You asked. “I was only going out with Taylor. You know the guy with the blonde hair and nice blue eyes?” 
Anti grinded his teeth, his fingers disappearing from your folds as he tore himself free of his jeans. 
“So that’s what you were doing?” He asked, anger fueling his words through his teeth. “I’ll kill that boy, and make you scream my name. You’re mine, (Y/N). No one else is to have you.” 
He drilled into you, making you cry out and arch against him. He held you down as he pounded his length into you. 
His teeth bit down on your skin, his lips crushing yours, bruising the pink flesh. 
Anti suddenly lifted you up. Your legs locked around his waist and he slammed you against a wall. 
You yelled out, turning into panted moans as Anti hammered you against the wallpaper. 
“Say my name,” He growled into your neck. “Who do you belong too?” 
“Anti!” You exclaimed, the knots in your stomach twisting with each painful thrust. 
“Again!” He ordered. 
“Anti! I’m yours, Anti!” You shouted. His movements became sloppy, but he somehow quickened the pace. 
“Good,” He snarled. “Don’t you forget it.” 
The knots in your stomach tightened, then, with a loud cry, you came undone, whimpering as Anti continued until he too, finished. 

Panting, he held you against the wall for a moment. Trembling and sleek with sweat, he lowered you to your feet and unwound the belt from your wrists. 
“Next time I won’t go so easy,” He told you. His fingers brushing the red skin of your wrists. 
You smiled, touching the bleeding lip with your finger. “Next time, don’t be so gentle.”

Escape - Bruce Wayne x Reader

Here’s Valentine Prompt number 2! I actually really love this one!

Request: Bruce x reader on an extravagant Valentine’s weekend getaway/Some sort of private villa in an exotic place. Very romantic scenery and activities!

Loosely based on Escape (If You Like Piña Coladas)

Words: 633


“Don’t open them yet,” Bruce says, making sure that your eyes are still closed.

“I’m not, I’m not,” you say. A warm salty breeze suddenly sweeps across your cheeks as Bruce guides you forward.

“Okay,” Bruce stops pulling you forward, and you notice the flooring under your feet has changed. “Open them.”

The sight before you looks like a scene from a movie. Tiki torches and tropical flowers surround a small table. Flower petals dot the white cloth on the table, and the shoreline is almost directly against the deck, allowing the roar of the waves against the sand to complete the scene.

“Wow. A private island and a romantic dinner? You sure know how to spoil a girl for Valentine’s,” you smirk at him as he offers you a chair.

“You deserve the best, Y/N. You put up with me, so the least I can do is try to give back,” Bruce sits across from you. For a moment you get caught up in how the torch light highlights all of his features perfectly; he looks like a model in a magazine.

“Speaking of what you put me through, are you sure Gotham can handle you being gone this long?” A caterer Bruce hired walks up and places a white frozen drink with a small paper umbrella in front of the two of you before returning inside.

“The boys have it handled. Besides, I’d much rather be here with you,” he picks up his glass and gestures to yours. “Last time I checked you like piña coladas.”

“Why Mister Wayne, are you trying to get me drunk?” you say with mock innocence and take you glass.

“Me? Never!”

“Good. Because you and I both know who hits the floor first. And it’s not me,” you smirk.

“One of the many things I love about you, Y/N,” he leans forward and you mirror his action. You stare entranced into his blue eyes listening to the ocean waves. The wind picks up behind him, blowing the soft scent of his cologne into your face. The two of you seem to be falling toward one another across the table, pulled by some invisible force.

Your noses are almost touching when the bottom falls out of the sky.

With a shriek and a laugh you jump up from the table, trying your hardest to keep your skirt from flying up around your waist as the wind blows harder than it has so far tonight. You completely abandon Bruce as you run inside, colliding with the glass door before you manage to actually open it.

Bruce is right behind you, looking extremely disheveled and disappointed that the sudden rainstorm ruined his perfectly planned evening. The look on his face could only be compared to a five year old’s pout. Water drips off his completely soaked hair and shirt, leaving a small pool on the floor at his feet. Of course you’re not any better off. Your dress is clinging to every inch of you, and your hair is soaked.

Nevertheless you fling your arms around his neck while standing on your toes and run your fingers through his hair. You press your forehead to his and plant a deep kiss on his lips.

“What was that for?” Bruce asks when he breaks the kiss.

“For this evening.”

“But the rain ruined the dinner I had planned,” he says, the five year old pout momentarily returning to his face.

“I had my piña colada. It’s only fitting that we get caught in the rain,” you smile at him and kiss his nose before taking his hand and pulling him toward the bedroom. “Now come on. Let’s put our pajamas on. We can eat that dinner in the living room. I’ve got a movie with our names on it.”

Unconfident Daryl

Daryl Dixon tells you he has a confession before one of your week long supply trips with Maggie, but once you return, Daryl seems a little hesitant to go through with it.


  • Daryl Dixon x Reader
  • 2024 Words
  • Warnings: Cussing, talk of sex.

The supply run was a complete bust, only arriving back at Alexandria with a few items on the list of things needed, plus a few things that weren’t listed. At this point, you couldn’t be too picky. Most towns were bare of anything salvageable and most runs took anywhere from two weeks to two months.

You fiddle with the small box in your hands, twisting it between your fingers as the truck pulls through the gates, seeing a very familiar face directing Maggie where to park. Abe was smiling, though you weren’t quite sure how to feel about that smile on his face. It was hard to pick Abraham sometimes, never knowing what was going through his mind.

“Find anything useful?” Abe asks, strolling over to your window and peering inside. He notices the box in your hand and raises an eyebrow. “That?”

“Shut up.” You push your door open and jump from the truck, landing on your feet perfectly. “It’s a gift.” You state as you walk by the ginger and help Maggie unload the bags. It wasn’t much, just a few cans of food and maybe there was a diaper bag in there for Judith. At this point, it was hard to remember what you grabbed.

“Hey!” Carl ran over, his hat sitting atop his head as usual, with a giant smile plastered across his cheeks. “Find any games?” He asked eagerly. The boy had been asking for any kind of entertainment for months now, since they found him a small gaming device that still worked, but only for the next couple of weeks. There was no way to charge it, bringing the fun to an end quickly for the growing boy.

Maggie’s lips turn down and she gently shakes her head at the young boy that had somehow passed her height. “Not this time, buddy.”

That doesn’t seem to bring Carl’s mood down too much. He grins, agreeing that next time they would have luck, and ran off to play with one of the other kids.

“What is with everyone?” You ask Maggie as you take the bags up to the kitchen. “It’s like a damn Hallmark movie up in here.”

Maggie laughs at your comment, nodding ever so slightly at the thought of such a happy life. “Wouldn’t that be nice? I can only remember the WalMart baby, though.”

“WalMart baby!” You giggle.

As you two talk about the movie, you come up to Daryl’s house. The garage door is open, revealing his precious motorcycle sitting in pieces. Though that wasn’t exactly what caught your attention. No, what caught your attention was the Dixon ass poking out from the hood of one of the old supply trucks. You knew it had run out of gas some time back and blown some sort of fuse. Daryl was asked weeks ago to fix it.

You feel your legs slow down as you got closer, wanting to linger just a little bit to watch as his butt wiggles in the air as he cussed at the engine and made a loud clanking sound with his tools.

Maggie gave you a small push toward the man and, with a wink, took the bag from you. She scurries off to meet Glenn, Rick, and Abe.

Feeling your heart race against your chest, you decide that now was the time. You make your way over to Daryl, the man you’ve had a crush on since you laid eyes on him. It was unsure why, seeing as you hardly dated before the apocalypse, leaving you a bit confused when it came to dating.

Not that you weren’t good looking or anything of the sort. Honestly, you always felt confident in your looks, especially without making yourself up and dressing in those frilly dresses all the girls used to wear. You were naturally pretty, you just weren’t into the dating scene all too much. Guys were never on top of your list.

“Son of a–!” Daryl pops his head up, sucking on his index finger as he whips around and catches you staring at him. His body tenses up as he slowly lets his finger fall from his lips, his eyes squinting, trying to figure you out as quickly as possible.

“I brought you something.” You force a smile onto your lips. Daryl was your crush, and Daryl liked to flirt back, but you always thought that was Daryl, giving in to your little game. You never thought he was serious about it, never. He would always make fun of the way you were looking at him, giving him the ‘fuck me’ look and licking your lips every time he rearranged his junk in front of you. You were completely and utterly smitten by this man.

“Me?” The words came out in a low growl, the very same growl that made your skin crawl and that smile to spread across your cheeks. “What is it?”

With a swift movement, you hand him the pack of cigarettes you knew he likes, unopened and with a working lighter tied around it. “Found it in the house we raided. Thought you could use it.” You shrug, remembering Daryl telling you a while ago that he was in need of a good smoke.

Daryl nods a thanks, though his lips remain in a thin line and his shoulders still look tense.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, not able to shake off the fact that Daryl was the only one in town that hadn’t smiled at you yet, or hardly given you much of a look at all. “Everyone else is in a good mood.”

A cigarette between his teeth already, Daryl lights it quickly and takes a long drag, fluttering his eyelids closed as he took in his nicotine. He breathes the smoke out, blowing it out of the corner of his mouth so it didn’t catch in your face. “Dunno.”

“What’s going on between us?” You bring your voice down, knowing that anyone could be eavesdropping.

He pocketed the pack and slips the stick between his fingers. “Not sure what you mean.” He grumbles and looks back inside the engine of the truck, clearly avoiding the subject.

A little bit of courage bursts inside you. You cross your arms over your chest. Maggie was right—you needed to talk to Daryl about this. All the mixed signals were getting in the way of something that could potentially be great.

“Just before I left, you acted like you wanted to tell me something and now you’re doing your best to push me away.” You point out the obvious, wishing you hadn’t the moment the words left your lips.

Daryl looks up at you, the cigarette hanging between his teeth as he flicks his eyes up to meet yours. His lips are still in a thin line and his jaw clenches. “That was before I started thinkin’, doll. I ain’t got nuthin’ to say.” And he went back to his tinkering.

“Daryl.” You say sternly, standing your ground and promising yourself not to back down now. “Why can’t we just have a normal conversation?”

“There ain’t nuthin’ worth sayin’.” Daryl flicks the bud onto the ground and stomps it out with the heel of his boot. His hair falls into his face, but he doesn’t push it back. It gives him a little cover from the truth.

Anger shot through you and you ball your left hand into a fist, ready to slam it on the hood of the nearest car. “Before I left, you started to say something. I want to know what that something was.” You demand him. “If it has anything to do with this age gap then—“

“Age gap?” His eyes move back, meeting yours as he straightens his back up and crosses his arms. His muscles flex and relax again, giving you a little shiver down your spine. You loved when Daryl went sleeveless and showed off those curvy arms of his. “Fuckin’ age gap? I don’t care ‘bout no age, Y/N.”

‘Then what is it?” You were no longer quiet, you raise your voice to get a point across. You wouldn’t let him go until he gave you an explanation this time. Daryl was a quiet man, likes to stick to himself, but he wouldn’t be able to just bury his emotions now.

Daryl shifts his weight from one foot to the other and kicks at a pebble on the ground, allowing his arms to fall at his sides. He turns his nose up to the sky just before he opens his mouth and tries to think of a way to answer that will both satisfy you and keep him out of trouble. “I can’t afford to lose you.”

That should have been something sweet shared between two lovers. Coming from a Dixon, it was much more. The sound of him saying those words to you melts your heart, even though you were still upset with him, it made this a little easier.

“You won’t lose me.” You smile, assuring the man.

Daryl looks up, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red at the realization of what he said. “Forget it.” He growls and returns to his job.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but you found yourself padding over to Daryl and wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. It was something you’ve dreamt of doing for weeks now. To feel his skin against yours, that was much needed. “You won’t lose me.”

He grabs both your wrists and shoves you off him, carefully. You drop your hands to your sides and it feels like your heart was ripped from your chest. Daryl watches you with his eyes narrowed and his chest heaving like a wild dog getting ready for an attack.

“If I let you get close, I’ll end up losing you.”

He wasn’t making any sense to you. You tilt your head to the left and let your own hair fall in your face, not bothering to push it aside. “If you let me closer, we can have a good time.”

“I’m too rough.” He rumbles.

“Rough?” You blink your eyes a couple of times, still very confused. “I can handle that.”

Daryl savagely shakes his head and flings his hair everywhere. “Naw. Naw, you can’t and I’m not allowing myself to take a chance.”

It takes you another minute to understand what Daryl was rambling about. You assumed, at first, he meant he was rough around relationships, hardly knowing how to be in one. Now, you were realizing he wasn’t talking about just the relationship. Daryl was scared of physically hurting you.

“I fuck up too bad.” Daryl goes on, but he didn’t seem to realize you were slowly moving closer to him, taking the final five steps to close the space between the two of you.

“Fuck me up, Daryl.” You purr, pressing your chest to his and leaning up on your tiptoes just a little. “Show me how you’re an animal in bed.”

Daryl gulps and his eyes flick from your eyes to your lips, all the way down to your breasts which are placed against his chest, wanting to pop out of that shirt you were wearing. He’s thinking hard on it, wanting to resists but at the same time, loving the challenge. The spark ignited in his eyes, shining through as he grabbed your waist with enough force to leave a bruise for weeks. You squeak and grab hold on the front of his shirt and wait until he crashes his lips into yours, not caring who saw, not caring that he was a bit sloppy at first.

Daryl Dixon was finally yours, rocking your world, promising you that he would get better with the boyfriend thing eventually. You loved his little fuck ups, though. The way he wasn’t sure how to comfort you other than to hold you and kiss your forehead or the way he awkwardly held your hand whilst walking down the street, unsure if he wanted the whole of Alexandria to know who he was seeing every night, bruising to the high heavens.

A Smoking Gun - Jughead x Reader

This one is pretty angsty. And I took some liberties I hope that’s okay.
Also I don’t condone smoking; Don’t smoke kids!


It was too much. Everything was becoming too much. Jason. Archie. Grundy. The gunshot. His father. School. You. You. Jughead lets out a frustrated snarl, pacing his room with his head in his hands, beanie discarded on his bed. He tries not to think about anything but everything comes rushing into his mind. All the questions with no answers and all the questions with answers he doesn’t want to hear.

Why would anyone want to kill Jason? Why was he killed over a week later? What other twisted things did Grundy plan to do to Archie? Should he tell someone? When does Mr. Flutesnoot need the chemistry project by? What were you doing with Chuck by the lockers before fourth period? Where does his dad go so late at night?

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Chased pt. 1

Chased  – Engraved
<– Engraved 14 | <– Sheltered 2 | Engraved 15 –>
| Chased 2 –>

Short: Unlucky in love, Kim Jongdae finds himself wanted by a problem seeking journalist. What could not go wrong?
Words: 3091
Type: Fluff/Smut/Angst
Pairing: Chen x Sora (oc)
Notes for Update: 25
Warnings: Shameless flirting and that stuff…Jongdae is sort of being a indecisive dick. XD
A/N: This will run chronologically with Engraved, but it’s not needed to read this to understand Engraved, but the parts posted for Engraved after this will contain spoilers. It is also not necessary to read Engraved to understand what is happening here. But it will make things more clear.

AFF link Engraved line
AFF link Chased only


Jongdae pov

He wasn’t sure why he was going. But will the whole fight between Angel and Xiumin still playing, he needed a night out. Angel was with Kyungsoo, they were growing closer, and he was so happy for them. Although he did feel her pull away slightly and it was…strange.
After texting with Sora for about 2 weeks now, he wasn’t sure why he had given her his number. Or why he was texting with her. But after telling her he wouldn’t be coming to the bar she invited him to, he still found himself in the car on his way. Why? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he could just get drunk and have a good time. Forget about the looming danger behind them.
The bar was a small place, in the district where a lot of students were housed. District 4. It mostly consisted of apartment building, sorority houses, clubs, and bars. The name The Flying Dutch made him cringe a little, what kind of place was she asking him to come? He parked the car about a block away, because the street was already loaded with cars. Maybe it was just busy.
Inside it was dimly lit, music playing not too loud but good. There was a centre bar, and to his surprise it was white. Probably made of birch wood, he stepped over to one of the guys behind it. He was greeted friendlily. “What can I get you?”
“Red wine.”

Originally posted by sooranghaes

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2

So I finally decided to make use of photoshop in a way that could benefit my followers and made a recolor of two hairs (that being the Bexley Hair by @obisims and the Cosmo Hair from the Spring Fling Stuff fan pack) using @wildlyminiaturesandwich‘s palette.

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Lax

long time no see lmao. 

vampire!baekhyun, 3.8k words, rated

Originally posted by littlebyuns


Being courted by a vampire is by far the most fun thing you’ve done in your life. Besides the fact you don’t know anyone else who is going steady with a vampire, you also don’t know anyone who has gotten with a pure-bred one. Pure-bred vampires generally avoid any intimate relations with other creatures, humans especially. Why? You’re not entirely sure. Maybe to protect the bloodline? Who knows. You don’t really want to ask Baekhyun, since it’s not important to you now.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Baekhyun asks when you come home from work.

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anonymous asked:

I get the feeling Grovyle and Dartrix would be like double tsunderes.

Haha, so would it be something like:

Grovyle: God, you’re so stupid!

Dartrix: Stupidly in love with you idiot!

Grovyle: Pfft, whatever, I guess..

Dartrix: Hmph! -flings back hair-

Some time after growing his hair out again, Credence walks out to care for the beasts in a shirt, hurriedly pulling his hair back.

Newt wordlessly flings himself into a snowbank

Jesus Christ, That’s a Pretty Face

Summary: Phil is a famous indie-rock singer who never shows his face on stage and Dan is a massive fan who unknowingly meets his favorite artist at the library.
Word Count: 5538
Warnings: none except for cussing
A/N: Hello lovelies! I woke up to the wonderful news that gay marriage has been legalized in all fifty states! I’m seriously gonna cry i swear. Anyways, here’s a little thing I wrote that I’m quite proud of so I hope you guys like it as well! Special thanks to my beta, whalefairyfandom12 who helped me develop the plot and kept telling me that I was doing great. Ilysm (’:
Jesus Christ - Brand New

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“THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMING OUT TO SEE ME TONIGHT, LONDON!” Phil screamed into the microphone, his ears nearly bursting with the chanting of the crowd before him: thousands of listeners (he refused to call them his fans) cheering for him and the rest of his indie rock band, Runaway Sky. The fact that this many people came to see them always made a warm feeling erupt in his chest.

See, Phil wasn’t the typical famous person that most people looked up to. He saw himself as an average guy who just happened to have a nice voice. He didn’t have beautiful hair like David Beckham or rock hard abs like Chris Evans. He was just Phil, a twenty-two year old with a black fringe who had a liking for skinny jeans and always wore a mask on stage.

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the line where the sky meets the sea

Time is fluid, when you’re a demigod. Mortals are not. (inspired by @youkaiyume and @jackkellyssweetheart‘s tags on this post). 


Time is fluid for a demigod. You go off for a while, to have adventures, help the mortals with their problems, defeat a monster or two and it’s fine! It’s all good. And if you happen to leave behind a certain curly-haired, feisty, determined princess–oh, sorry, daughter of the village chief–well, things will probably be fine. She’s a bright kid, the first wayfarer in generations. Leading her people and all that. She’ll be alright.

And so off you go. You fight monsters. You sass gods. You help mortals. You do you, basically.

And when you come back to that certain curly-haired, feisty chief’s daughter–you’re brimming with things to tell her, that creature you defeated, the new tattoos you’ve earned, the myths you’ve begun. And she’ll have her own stories to tell, of course she will and you’ll listen. To all of them! You won’t even interrupt.

And when you come back, you’re in for unpleasant surprise.

Things have–changed.

She’s not a kid anymore. Her father has stepped down, she’s stepped up. She is the leader of Motunui. She’s–what, eighteen? Twenty? You’ve never been good with mortal ages–a woman and a beautiful woman at that, tall, strong, graceful. Already she has her own tattoos on her back, arms, shoulders, legs that signify her chief hood. But the blue shell locket still hangs around her neck, nestles comfortably in the hollow of her collarbones (not that you notice, you’re just using your, you know, demigod powers of observation). She is delighted, no, overjoyed to see you, and you’re shocked by how happy you are to see her. She presses her forehead to yours, laughs and breathes into your face and you think, …oh no. Oh NO.

You are in trouble.

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