i am sure someone here will tell me exactly where this was taken

Good Girls Go Bad

Set in the 40’s. Y/N was your stereotypical girl next door, growing up in the apartment right across the hall from James Buchanan Barnes. She had always been the shy, reserved girl; she was the complete opposite of the enigmatic ladies man. Despite their proximity, she was sure that he didn’t even know she existed. What happens when they run into one another during a night out on the town? Is just one night all it really takes? 

Word Count: 3,408

Warnings: swearing, smut


Originally posted by evanstansource


You sighed, adjusting your dress as you gazed into the mirror. Even though it was still rather conservative, you couldn’t help but notice that it was more revealing than you were used to. The neckline plunged rather low, the collar fastened with a bow that drew attention to your cleavage. The waist was cinched, showing off your figure. Paired with the red heels that your friends had chosen for you, you were looking like a regular bombshell. Your friends had insisted that you go out with them tonight. You had turned them down too many times. They said that now, of all days, you had to accompany them. The newest army recruits would be shipping out tomorrow, and it was sure to be a lively night.

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Slight Changes || Park Jimin

Originally posted by lonastic

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Angst/Fluff


“You can’t be serious Y/N, it wasn’t even my fault.” You ignored Jimin’s voice as you stormed away from him and walked into the kitchen. The only thing you wanted to do right now was get away from him, but it seemed that no matter how far you got from him he would just appear right behind you again.

“Yes, Jimin, I am serious. What would make you think otherwise?” Your tone was bitter, anger flooding through you and exiting in the form of words. There was no other way for you to release it so you just had to deal with trying your best to stay calm and not completely flip out on your boyfriend. Jimin sighed loudly before speaking again, causing you to turn around and look at him.

“She was just a fan, fan’s get close. It’s not my fault.” He argued. You rolled your eyes, feeling more anger rise at the fact that he was trying to defend himself over this. The picture had been all over twitter and it seemed that ARMY’s were going crazy over it. They had been tweeting it at you, waiting for some kind of reaction, but you held back until the moment he got home and you could confront him about it.

“It’s your fault that you didn’t try to ask her to move, and it’s your fault that you didn’t mention me, you know, your girlfriend.” You said.

“God you always get like this.” Jimin’s tone surprised you, and you couldn’t help but feel a little taken aback by his words. There wasn’t anything about it that was very different, just a slight undertone of frustration that you weren’t used to. Jimin was always calm with you, even now while you were practically yelling at you he was keeping his normal tone.

“What do you mean I always get like this?” You asked.

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Just Following Orders, Sir - Mitch Rapp

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Mitch Rapp/Reader

Word Count: 11,985

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Oral (both receiving), Multiple Orgasms, Shower Sex, Teasing, Death of bad guys, Sir, Squirting, Voyeurism, Boob Job

Notes: I know this is long overdue, but the word count makes up for it right? I got delayed because of Howler Con (I lost 3 says yo). I hope you guys like this. I liked this idea a lot actually.

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Hold Me

Originally posted by alphabetbet

Raphael x Reader

Hold Me

Prompt: Could you write a Raph one where his s/o is in a random mood for major cuddles and he gives in to her cravings for affection and practically showers her in it with lots of fluff??? Thanks! 😄😄😄

You stared at your phone for a few long moments. You needed cuddles. And you needed them now. You picked up your phone and pulled up Raph’s contact and punched in a text.

Hey.

Hey.

Can you come over? Pretty, pretty please?

Yeah, why?

I’m looooonely. And booooored. And…I really need someone to cuddle with.

Do ya think I’m some sorta personal teddy bear, shorty?

Pleeeeeaaaaaase?

The guys are gonna tease me.

Then don’t tell them.

Raph?

U there?

Idk if you’re worth gettin’ teased over…

Raaaaaaaaph.

Hush. I’m comin’. Give me a minute.

Yesssssss.

Dork.

You love it.

I know. Yer lucky I care.

I know.

You waited for the big buff turtle in red to show up at your window. He wasn’t your boyfriend, despite the feelings you hoped he shared. But God, you wanted him to be your boyfriend. Personally, Raphael hadn’t asked you out for one reason: he though he wasn’t good enough for you. You were pretty, smart, funny, and worst of all…you were human. A pretty, smart, funny human girl could have any guy on the face of the earth. Why would you want a mutant reject that lived in the sewers?

But nonetheless, he showed up at your window a few minutes later, heart pounding and extremely nervous for whatever was going to come next. Sure, the two of you had had movie nights, but you had never cuddled. Ever. He wasn’t even sure why you had asked him to come here to satisfy your craving for touch.

Three taps on the window signaled his arrival. You slid the window up and helped him clamber inside. He looked down at you in your cute little Deadpool onesie. And though he tried to ignore it, he couldn’t deny that you looked good in red. Really good.

“Well, you look cozy.” He smirked. You smiled.

“Picked out a movie for us.”

“Oh yeah? Which one?”

“Fantastic Four.”

“Are ya kiddin’ me?”

“Nope.”

“Yer kiddin’ me. Didn’t that bomb?”

“Yeah, but…” you blushed at the thought that ran through your head. “Nevermind. Just settle in. I’ll make the popcorn. Wanted it to be fresh.”

He watched you run off to the kitchen while he got settled in your bed. It creaked under his weight. God, sometimes he forgot how heavy he was. How huge he was. And then there was you, this delicate little flower that he was so scared he would break.

Every time he thought about you, his heart did a backflip. The mere inkling of you was enough to drive him crazy. The thought of your tiny little hands in his, your tiny little feet and all of your adorable human toes. And then came the thoughts of how your skin would feel against his, how soft and silky it must be compared to his rough scales and callouses.

He exhaled a sigh, mentally scolding himself. There was no reason to tease himself with something he couldn’t have.

“Comfy?” You asked, setting the popcorn on the table beside your bed, which was pushed up against the wall. Raph was hunkered into your mound of pillows, half laying down, half propped up.

“Y-yeah. Sure am.” He wanted to punch himself for stuttering. You smirked a little and hopped into the bed beside him, transitioning to a comfy position laying on top of him, head pressed against his plastron. And there, thump-thumping in his chest was his heart. You smiled as you listened to it hammer, faster and faster with each second you were there with him. “Am I doin’ this right?”

“Doing what right?”

“You know…cuddlin’. Or whatever.” He paused, exhaling a somewhat embarrassed breath. “I ain’t exactly a pro.”

“You’re doing fine.” You giggled. “Just…here.” You pulled one of his muscular arms around your back and snuggled deeper into his plastron. “Perfect.”

“All right. Good.” He grabbed a handful of popcorn with his free hand and you started the movie.

***

“So which of ‘em’s yer favorite?” he asked as the credits rolled. Your heart hammered. Here was the moment. The moment you were hoping he would set up. And now you could finally take the opportunity laid out before you.

“The Thing.” You replied casually. He let out a little breath of surprise.

“Why’s that?”

“Because…” You blushed as deep as Raph’s mask. “I like my guys big and strong and a little rough around the edges.” You shrugged. “But I mean, where would I ever find a guy like that?”

“Yer sayin’…” It took him a few seconds to put the pieces together. “Me. Ya…ya like me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The reasons previously stated, and also: you might not admit it, but you, Raphael, are a huge softy and I love that.”

“I ain’t soft.”

“Look at us right now.”

“Point taken.”

“And your eyes are gorgeous.”

“Umm…”

“And you’re super buff and brave, and you’ve saved the world like twice and-”

“Why not Leo?” Raph’s words caused a sudden silence.

“What?”

“Leo’s all ‘uh those things. He could treat ya right.”

“Okay, but I don’t love Leo, Raph. I love you.”

“Y-you what?” Raph almost choked.

“I. Love. You.”

“I l-love you too.” He paused, mulling over the exchange that had just gone down. “So then are we…are ya my girlfriend?”

“Do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Then I think that answers that question, boyfriend.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek. And then it hit you. That was the first kiss he had ever received. Ever. The blush that spread across his cheeks only confirmed your theory. You were not going to let this moment pass without taking it one baby step further. You pressed a soft hand against his rough face and turned it to face you. His eyes darted from your lips back to your eyes and he gulped, green eyes wide as you leaned closer to him.

Raphael decided in a single moment that your lips were the softest things on earth. They were also the sweetest things he had ever tasted, freshly coated in cherry lip gloss. Bright and red and now they were his to kiss whenever he wanted. This night had taken an unexpected turn indeed. But he couldn’t complain. He would never complain, so long as he had you.

“So uh…now what?” He asked after a long pause.

“Well…we could pop in another movie and cuddle some more, or we could go back to the lair and brag to your brothers.” You suggested. Raph smirked, imagining the look on Leo’s dumb face when he came home with a girlfriend.

“We’re goin’ to the lair.”

“That’s what I thought.”

✧ ( SHAMELESS SENTENCE STARTERS.

warning: triggers apply. adult language, sexual themes, violence, offensive subjects, offensive behaviors. please read & reblog with caution.

❛ And what exactly does “hooked up” mean? ❜
❛ It’s like a car wreck… you can’t not watch. ❜
❛ What’s that smell? It’s either vomit or fancy cheese. ❜
❛ There is no God. We’re all gonna die. ❜
❛ The hell? You’re supposed to negotiate! ❜
❛ If you’re looking for money, I don’t have any yet.  ❜
❛ How do you feel about metal splinters to the eye? ❜
❛ Are you up-to-date on your rabies shots? ❜
❛ I don’t like that you’re getting hurt on purpose to make money. ❜
❛ You’re kidding me? You’re actually serious about this shit? ❜
❛ You’re kinda growing on me. ❜
❛ Wanna see how fast I can unhook your bra? ❜
❛ You make my life a living hell and I want you out of here now. ❜
❛ Half of the world has penises, why do people get so upset about seeing them? ❜
❛ You’re nothing but a warm mouth to me. ❜
❛ I think I’m depressed. I’ve been feeling kind of funky lately. ❜
❛ I never said it was yours. You just wanted it to be. ❜
❛ Wouldn’t be the first time somebody’s disappointed me. ❜
❛ I don’t mean to be an asshole. It’s just… genetic. ❜
❛ Fuck you is what you were invited to. ❜
❛ I can’t even begin to imagine what kind of pussy you’d be in juvie. ❜
❛ I want normal people problems. Like, am I getting enough fiber? ❜
❛ Hey, I think I just insulted myself. ❜
❛ Hey! What the fuck man! He’s/she’s dead! ❜
❛ Oh, could you be a little more vague? ❜
❛ You came all the way down here to talk about my pubes? ❜
❛ How the fuck do you not have a gun? ❜
❛ Sure you’re ready to pop your armed robbery cherry? ❜
❛ You should have seen your face. ❜
❛ You don’t know who you messed with, bitch. ❜
❛ You fuck with the bull, you get an ass full of horns! ❜
❛ I’m not used to having people yell at me all day long. ❜
❛ I have this friend. I think you two might really hit it off. ❜
❛ I’ve seen you put out after the first drink. ❜
❛ You know, I’d hug you but neither of us would like that. ❜
❛ I don’t get why just don’t use her/his face for target practice. ❜
❛ I want a fucking lawyer motherfucker! ❜
❛ You’re covering your own ass and you know it. ❜
❛ You know I used a condom. ❜
❛ Do you know where I can buy a gun? ❜
❛ You think you scare me? Bring it, bitch! ❜
❛ I’m starting to get fucking homicidal. ❜
❛ I will make this kitchen my bitch. ❜
❛ They’re having a party for kids across the street. No booze. ❜
❛ A shrink at school says I’m one of God’s mistakes. ❜
❛ I believe the answer to that question, like the answer to most questions, is fuck you! ❜
❛ Did the two of us finish an entire gallon of box wine the other night? ❜
❛ I can’t handle anything up my ass without alcohol! ❜
❛ I’d be crying right now if I wasn’t so high. ❜
❛ I’m not my dad. You hear me? I’m not my fucking dad! ❜
❛ I would never do half the shit that you’ve done to us. Why are you even here? ❜
❛ Even the homeless get better stuff than us. ❜
❛ I am just as likely as anyone of this family to make something of myself. ❜
❛ You want to get shit faced in the middle of the day.  ❜
❛ You have no money yet you’re going into a grocery store. Interesting. ❜
❛ Let’s go get drunk and buy a gun. ❜
❛ It’s a shame when someone you love gets taken away, isn’t it? ❜
❛ If this is a relationship you wanna save, then you gotta fucking save it. ❜
❛ Off to deal drugs on a Saturday morning? ❜
❛ I’m probably biased, you deserve better than him. ❜
❛ If you don’t get out right now, I will shoot you. ❜
❛ Still don’t want your family to know? ❜
❛ Did I mention that I’m falling in love with you? ❜
❛ You can’t feel a persons headache by touching his head. ❜
❛ Are you robbing me with my own fucking gun? ❜
❛ How can you tell when you’re in love with someone? ❜
❛ Is that supposed to be some kind of insult? ❜
❛ I’m done living the way other people want me to live. ❜
❛ I think I was trying to prove something, not to you but to myself.  ❜
❛ If it wasn’t sex then what was the problem? ❜
❛ What do you want me to say? That I’m self-destructive? ❜
❛ Random destruction makes you think of me? ❜
❛ I haven’t abused marijuana like the rest of you, so yes I remember. ❜
❛ Your turf? What is this West Side Story? ❜
❛ All I’m gonna be thinking about while you choke me out is how much I love you. ❜
❛ If I don’t invest in myself, no one else will. ❜
❛ It smells worse than a dead hooker’s ass in there. ❜
❛ I don’t wanna be me anymore. ❜
❛ Why would anyone go to the zoo sober? ❜
❛ I’ve had so many abortions the next one is free. ❜
❛ I’d trade my left nut for one more hour of sleep. ❜
❛ How do you do that? The nice thing? ❜
❛ I’m sick of living in your shadow. ❜
❛ I never thought I’d say this but you were right. ❜
❛ Where can I get knives and blunts? ❜
❛ I can’t share a room with someone in constant state of arousal! ❜
❛ I’m sneaking antibiotics into his toothpaste just in case. ❜
❛ I got tasered for like a second and I crapped myself. ❜
❛ I’ve never seen you put on deodorant before. ❜
❛ I haven’t had a drink for two days…well granted I was unconscious. ❜
❛ I’ll be in the bushes across the street stalking you. ❜
❛ Is there anything more enjoyable on earth than humiliating your peers? ❜
❛ I need to buy a gun. For protection. In case there’s a shooting here. I’m scared. ❜
❛ It’s my job to tell you when you’re making a huge mistake. ❜
❛ Have you ever woken up naked in the street with no idea how you got there? ❜
❛ You’re either boning or you’re waiting to bone. ❜
❛ Doctors are thieves, they just have degrees to keep them out of jail. ❜
❛ You want me to be realistic? Okay, I’ll be realistic. ❜
❛ I confided in you and you told everyone. ❜
❛ I have no idea what that means but I’m enjoying trying to picture it. ❜
❛ I never made any fucking promises to you! ❜
honey, am I a chore |mafia!myg|

Originally posted by dreamyoongi

paring: min yoongi x reader (lowkey you x everyone)

words: 1.5k+

genre: angst, fluff, smut, mafia!au

summary: yoongi had tried his best to keep you safe, away from his work, but sometimes things don’t go exactly as planned.

yoonmin version

raising money for my pet’s tumor removal

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13x04: What’s the Deal with Catharsis?

This isn’t funny anymore. I am not okay. I’m in a state of needing to do laps around my room (and the room is roomy enough to be comfy) (but roomy enough for doing laps in it ain’t). All this excess energy is making me sweat even when I sit still!! (I exaggerate) But Jesus Mary and Joseph the writers and cast and crew and the whole shebang and shindig is giving us… SO MUCH. *everything* 

So, here’s the recipe for Deconstructing Dean: 

You take Dean Winchester, you make him slam all his walls back in place and you drain him of the want to feel anything, because the pain is too much to handle, so if he feels it, he knows it’ll fucking break him, right? 

Now for the most crucial part: you make him act the part of his father and you make him latch onto that persona, one that he’s cultivated within himself in order to be the good son, the responsible big brother, the dutiful soldier, the hero. Only this time you make this persona into what it really is without the warmth and hope and love that is at the heart of Dean Winchester: you make it a shell. You make it obvious that this persona is based in the lie Dean has always told himself of who he needs to be in order to cope, in order to be strong, to carry all this weight placed on his shoulders from too young an age. 

And Dean himself doesn’t even believe in this lie anymore: 

  • Refusing to listen to Miriam’s tirades and his comment of “I’m just a guy doing a job” in 13x01 began to deliver a sense of maturity, of Dean truly on the cusp of growing the fuck up
  • In 13x02 this was pushed further with Jack’s line: Pain is part of the complete human experience. Accepting it is a sign of maturity.
  • In 13x03, Dean’s actual aversion to his toxic masculinity and his need to address it and reject it was highlighted through every plot line in that episode being rooted in Dean’s self-examination and what he needs to understand: no one can tell you who you are - you choose who to be. (choice and identity) (like wow)
  • By 13x04 it’s clear to this meta writer exactly how much Dean knows his performance is a shell, but there’s no way he can let go of it. It’s his safety net now, keeping all the feelings at bay. Feelings are weaknesses, his performance says, and shuts them all out
  • Save one, of course, and that’s the anger

How is it highlighted to us that he knows the performance is a shell? 

–> By him asking Sammy to keep the faith for the both of them. 

Dean’s aware of what he’s doing, he’s so aware of shutting everyone out, and he knows, deep down, that it isn’t him, that he wants to believe they can save Mary because he can see that there’s a chance, but right now… all faith has drained from him because the root of his hope for the future has been taken away. (yes of course that’s Cas)

How else can we ascertain that Dean, deep down, wants to mature?

Well, how about –>

Sam: He was really into the whole catharsis thing.
Dean: Yeah, sure, who wouldn’t be, if it’s like another word for happy ending?

Now, they really, really could’ve written this line in a way that didn’t imply that Dean is actually saying what? He is saying that he can understand why Wes was into the whole catharsis thing when catharsis was another word for happy ending. Meaning Dean can understand why someone would want to work on themselves on the basis of getting their happy ending. MEANING DEAN WINCHESTER WANTS A HAPPY ENDING. He still wants that long and happy life, he just doesn’t see it anymore for REASONS.

FFS. (FOR FUCK’S SAKE)

And for someone who abjectly dismisses the idea of therapy as bullcrap and thinks the whole thing is like snake oil for the mind…

Okay, so, I know Dean is anti-everything here. I get it. He is demonstrating how little faith he has in this brain-scrambling, emotion-combing time waster of an endeavour, right? But I just want to look a tiny bit closer at this specific moment in this scene.

Because look at Dean’s body language –> it’s completely open. 

Jensen is formidable in using body language and those famed micro-expressions to tell us tons about Dean. That’s because he’s a formidable actor and using body language and micro-expressions is part of his job. Human communication is more than 50% based in body language, so to say that this tool for subtext doesn’t matter to the story, that the visual narrative is a layer that can be dismissed as unimportant, is mildly insane. Just in case anyone ever says that. (I bid you stop it) (not to be bossy) (just please seriously)

Also, look at Jared sat at the edge of that sofa, Dean taking up space, spreading himself out like an alpha male. Sam looks more defensive than Dean here, and considering where this scene is headed, there’s no wonder. What’s so subtle about this, though, is that by the end of the episode we’ll get a small catharsis from Dean, where he puts words to how he’s feeling, answering the question from Sam that opens the entire episode, so Dean’s open body language towards Sam here can also be seen as foreshadowing of that, that he’s open wide to the fact that Sam is actually right. *slow eyebrow raise*

And then there’s how Dean asks his question:

Mom was great, now she’s dead–>

–> Dismissive to a fault, because Dean’s grief truly is not tied to Mary, because deep down Dean can see the worth in Sam’s belief that they can get her back, underneath all that pain there is still a glimmer of hope.

What’s the deal with catharsis?–>

–> Yeah, exactly - Dean throws this out there and does so immediately. Again, it of course has to do with his attitude towards therapy in general, it’s to do with the anger masking his pain, but it’s also a defence mechanism, because he isn’t ready to be open, no matter how much he subconsciously wants to be, or feels he needs to be. Asking this question here just underlines this already hinted at need, because deep down Dean wants to believe there’s something that can somehow lead him to a happy ending, he wants to know what the deal with catharsis is for himself, because he wants to have faith in the future again. He just can’t right now, because his future burned on a pyre not very long ago. 

I mean the GROWING PAINS of it all! Dean Winchester is maturing into an adult before our very eyes and it makes me so fucking happy for him!! And what does that small moment at the end of the episode, the moment of very very tentative catharsis (hopefully leading to a properly significant moment in 13x05) still give him? That one tiny line of dialogue where he admits to Sam how Sam’s been right in calling him out on his behaviour and how he doesn’t want to be like this forever, it’s just for now, because right now he doesn’t believe in a damn thing.

It gets him this –>

*fffflllaaaiiilll*

The Eternal Problem: A Meditation on Mortality in Sherlock S4

When asked about S4 during the promotional lead-up, Moftiss repeatedly said this new series would be about one thing: consequences.  Now that we stand on the other side of S4, what do we think they meant?  It obviously wasn’t legal consequences for shooting Magnussen, or physical consequences of overdosing on drugs.   

In this meta, I argue that TAB and S4 are above all about the moral, metaphysical, and narrative consequences of Sherlock faking his death during the Reichenbach Fall—an act which continues to reverberate through the story two series later, both for the characters and, significantly, for the writers.

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dylanlovesthemets  asked:

“You look pretty hot in plaid" this could go both ways w sterek i think, like derek complimenting stiles on his daily outfits or stiles seeing derek in plaid for the first time

@dylanlovesthemets i almost listened but it kind of got away from me :D 

“Move, Scott,” Derek grumbles, irritated and tired and protective.

Stiles is limp in Derek’s arms after being struck by the monster of the week. Scott had once again failed to account for Stiles’ fragility and left him without so much as a bat to defend himself.

Derek had seen it happen, seen the big scaly tail knock Stiles off his feet and into a tree. And he’s done what he could to hear if Stiles was hurt worse than a concussion and so far hasn’t been able to hear anything out of the ordinary. Heartbeat still in a normal rhythm, no bones creaking or scraping against each other as Derek rolled Stiles onto his back to check him over.

He’s got Stiles bridal style in his arms and is walking back to the cars now that the thing has been taken care of. But Scott is hovering.

“We should take him to see Deaton, or at least have my mom look at him,” Scott is saying, still trailing behind Derek, gripping at Derek’s shoulder and Derek bites back a growl of irritation. He just doesn’t want anyone in his space right now.

“I’m taking him to my apartment. His dad is working tomorrow and through the weekend and Stiles is going to need someone to wake him up every couple hours if he does have a concussion. A test which I am well equipped to do, Scott, since I am an EMT,” Derek impatiently explains as they come up to the cars all parked together in a clearing.

“I know, I know,” Scott is quick to answer but he’s still hesitant. Derek knows they trust each other but apparently that trust doesn’t extend to trusting Derek with Stiles.

Once Stiles is laid comfortably, but still unconscious in the back of Derek’s Toyota he turns to face Scott’s worried face.

“He’s going to be fine and if he’s not, you’re the first person I call,” Derek says and it’s true. If Stiles wakes up in more pain than a concussion warrants or he stops breathing or something, Scott would be the first person Derek would contact…along with Melissa and John in the group text.

But the reassurance is enough for Scott who nods and steps away. Derek talks quickly to Isaac, Erica and Boyd, making sure they’re all still in one piece after the small tussle in the woods. But they’re fine and he gets an eye roll from Erica so they’re really okay if they’re able to sass their alpha at 3am.

Now he just has to get Stiles back to his apartment and make sure he wakes up in a reasonable amount of time.


Derek is pacing slowly in the apartment. He’s not overly anxious, Stiles has been awake since they got in and confirmed only a headache before swallowing some advil and going back to sleep. Derek is still concerned there might be other aches and pains that Stiles is waving off that should be addressed.

For now, he’s on concussion watch though so he’s trying to keep himself awake for the next hour until it’s time to wake Stiles again. He’d sleep himself but the couch isn’t appealing tonight and he knows when he falls asleep it’s going to be hellish to drag himself out of it. He’d rather get another check in with Stiles before he loses consciousness for the next few hours.

The pacing is to keep his mind focused on something, one foot in front of the other, eight steps, turn, eight again. He can hear Stiles’ steady, shallow, sleeping breathing as he does and he thinks he’s pretty calm despite the circumstances. He’s more surprised that he’s surprised than actually startled when the door opens and Stiles is standing there, leaning against the door jam. His eyes are droopy but Derek can still hear his heart beating exactly how it’s supposed to.

“You look pretty hot in plaid,” Stiles says, his clear voice showing that despite his sleepy expression, he’s completely alert.

Derek looks down at his pajama pants before looking up at Stiles with a soft smile.

“You’ve said that before,” Derek replies, tracing his own steps as he walks over towards where Stiles is wavering on his feet now that he’s no longer leaning against the door frame.

He settles his hands on Stiles’ warm waist and relishes the small smile he gets at the welcome touch.

“It’s worth repeating,” Stiles says and tilts his head back, Derek is all too happy to oblige and press a quick dry kiss on his lips.

This thing between them is new, not so new that Derek questions the kiss but it is still something they’ve kept just between them. And it’s something they haven’t taken much further than kissing. Derek had been set and ready to tell Stiles he needed to wait before things got physical in their relationship. But Stiles had been the one who put limits on things.

The pack doesn’t know. And Scott doesn’t know. But the Sheriff knows and that’s enough for them right now. It’s why Derek was so determined to get Stiles to his apartment. The sheriff really will be at work for the better part of the next few days and they both would want someone with Stiles while he’s concussed. The fact that Derek has his EMT license now only furthered the Sheriff’s approval of him dating his son. He’s been doing more to get his life together, to be a contributing member of society.

“How are you feeling,” Derek asks quietly and pushes Stiles’ hair off his face gently.

“Like I got my head smashed into the ground,” he murmurs as his eyes close again and he leans into Derek’s chest.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” he says into Derek’s chest and Derek brings his arms up to rub Stiles’ back comfortingly.

“Of course,” Derek says gently and starts to walk them back into the bedroom.

“Don’t know if I’ve said this but, I feel safe here. With you. Your space. You make me feel safe, Der,” Stiles says softly and Derek tries to keep from letting the excitement those words incited from leaking out.

“I-“ Derek clears the emotion from his throat, “I’m really happy to hear that Stiles. How are you doing for painkillers? Do you need me to get more advil? More pain drain?” Derek offers but Stiles shakes his head.

“No, just you. Come lay down with me?” he requests as he crawls into the bed with Derek holding the covers up for him to settle beneath them.

Those sleepy eyes, the soft fluffy hair and the circumstances have Derek capitulating without much resistance.

“Let me just grab you some water and I’ll be right back,” Derek explains as he tucks the covers around Stiles.

Stiles nods into his pillow and Derek dashes quickly back to the outer rooms. He checks the door again, fills up a large glass with water and snags the bottle of Advil – just in case. He makes quick work of putting both down on the nightstand next to Stiles. He crosses to the other side of the queen size bed and gently lifts the covers, stealing beneath and wrapping Stiles close in his arms.

After a few minutes of slow steady breathing Stiles snuffles into Derek’s chest.

“Thanks, Der,” he mumbles and Derek’s arms squeeze gently in a closer embrace.

“Anytime,” he says and is completely unsurprised that he means it. That he means something more, something they haven’t said to each other yet. But, Derek thinks, maybe they say it in other ways.

“You’re Giving Up On Us?”

A/N: hi, everyone! sorry i haven’t uploaded in a while. school has been keeping me more than busy lately! 

warnings: this is angsty (i think) ??

requested: @pxrrishly

thank you for requesting! i hope you enjoy it x

word count: 2,474

Originally posted by 2tiedships2

Y/N knew what she was getting into when she first started dating Harry. She knew that his job would often take him away from her, whether it was because he had to go on tour or due to late hours at the studio. She could take that. I mean, both Y/N and Harry were doing a pretty good job so far. A long distance-relationship wasn’t going to fail them, now. Right?

Harry had been on tour with the boys countless times before and it never really got in their way. But all because they compromised. 

Compromise.

Had it depended on the occurrence in which both of them would sacrifice bits and bits of their days now, Y/N would’ve forgotten what the word means long ago.

At late hours like these, in the dead of night, when she’s lying wide awake in bed, are the best timing for her thoughts to creep in, and as much as she doesn’t want them roaming around her head, they already settled a home up in there.

She reminisces the times when they’d both stay awake longer than usual — or wake up earlier than supposed to — just so they could talk and see each other as much as possible through video-calls. She reminisces the times when she hadn’t a worry in the world about where their relationship was leading to. She reminisces the times when it still felt like he was putting effort into communicating and contacting her while he was away, just as much as she was. But most importantly, she reminisces the times when she still felt like he was there with her, no matter how far he actually was.

But now that Y/N looks back at how it used to be and where they are now, she can’t help but feel as though someone just ripped her heart open and out of her chest.

The frequent and recurrent calls and texts here and there during her day began to become scarce when compared to the early days in their relationship. Texts that were always replied to, once he had the chance to write back a quick response, turned into hers always being the last sent and with the ‘Read’ tag underneath. What once was a continual exchange of ‘i love you’s barely happened anymore. Perhaps because they forgot or simply didn’t have the time to do so.

And eventually, he almost completely stopped trying to reach out to her. And when he did, it’d often be just a text telling her how busy he was and how he wouldn’t be able to talk to her later on in the day. He was tired. And so was she. For different reasons, of course. Clearly, he wasn’t aware of how much this whole situation was taking a toll on her.

However, it wasn’t as severe as it sounds. It’s not as if he completely forgot about her existence. He loved her too. He really did. But the pressure and hard-work mixed together wasn’t exactly the best combination, sometimes — specially at times like these. Harry knew this wasn’t an excuse because as much as people claim to be too busy or too tired for something — or someone —, they can always make time for them if the effort is really there. He’d talk to her whenever he found the chance to but, somehow, it just wasn’t enough.

For instance, she never cared about how tired she felt. As much as she needed to practically hibernate due to all the pressure and stress her work was putting her through, she’d always wait up for him to call her, just so they could see each other’s faces and share even if just a few words. She waited. She was trying. And as much as she wished to admit Harry was trying too, the only response she got from him were simple and very direct texts explaining how he wouldn’t be able to FaceTime her tonight.

Y/N missed him. And she couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had given up on them. For what other reasons would he practically stop trying altogether?

Harry had been on tour for almost a year now and she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore.

Y/N loved him. She really did. But how was she supposed to carry on with their relationship if the effort he once put into it was long gone? Sure, they’d still Skype each other occasionally, but the distance —both physical and emotional— was too much for her.

Video-calls that used to last around 2 hours — all because the two of them wished to cherish as much as they could whenever they had the chance to see the other — turned into 15-minute chats. Comfortable silences that was once part of their relationship turned into nerve-wrecking silences for her — the thoughts and ways of how she’d break the silence were all her mind surrounded with. And with vague words exchanged here and there, they’d quickly end the call and retreat themselves back to bed.

Y/N was never one to demand the presence and affection of her boyfriend every living minute of their day, but she needed something back from him. She couldn’t be the only one trying and willing to make things work. She just wanted to feel him close whenever she had the chance.

The tension between the two of them was undeniable. And as much as Y/N tried to understand what had changed so abruptly, she couldn’t find any answers. They had just become… distant. It’s not as if they had been arguing or fighting lately, or having silly disagreements. It wasn’t any of that. And she wasn’t sure what it was, but the fact that things just suddenly and unexpectedly changed without a proper reason or cause, made this situation even sadder for her.

For some odd reason, the freedom she once felt to share everything with him was now almost non-existent. Y/N knew she could but she didn’t know how to. And that’s how she figured he felt too. Harry eventually caught up onto her change of demeanour towards him and even though he was apprehensive to ask her if she was okay, he still did, gladly. (Un)fortunately — he really couldn’t tell —, she always replied with the same words, telling him that ‘yeah, just stressed with work s’all’, or ‘I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?’, and brush it off with a small laugh. They never sounded honest for him though, and he never pressed on those answers because if something was wrong, she’d let him now… Right?

Harry didn’t want it to be true but he thought that he knew the answer to the ‘why wouldn’t I be okay?’ Y/N always pulled on him. He was well aware that they were distant and even awkward around each other at this point and he absolutely hated it. Harry knew she was not okay and he had a feeling that it was partly his fault. But he couldn’t know if she didn’t talk to him. Was he supposed to just brush it off or second-guess each time she said it?

It was bound to happen that her walls would cave down on her eventually—she just hoped it would have taken longer than this.

“Hello, love”, Harry greeted as soon as she answered his Skype call. She looked exhausted.

“Hey”, Y/N returned simply, not making direct eye-contact with him.

“Everything okay? You okay, love?”, he tentatively asked her, hoping for a real answer this time.

“’course I am. Why wouldn’t I b-”, she was immediately cut off.

“Love-”, he sighed. “Y/N… C’mon, talk to me. What’s in your mind? You don’t seem okay”. Harry was hopeful she’d give him something this time. After all, hope was all he had left.

“Harry- I don’-”, she let out a huff. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“But you know it’s not healthy to bottle up emotions, love. I’m here for you, you know that, don’t you?”

“No. Harry. I don't”, Y/N snapped.

“What? I’m always here for you-”

“Now, is that true, Harry?!”, she cut him off. She couldn’t keep her facade up for much longer. “You barely call or text me anymore! And I get to see you, what?! Once a week through a computer screen?! You don’t even put effort into us anymore! How would I be okay knowing you’re giving up on this relationship?! Tell me!”, Y/N was agitated to the extreme right now; her voice was loud and her cheeks were flushing up a bit—something that happened when she felt uneasy. She just wanted him to understand her side of the story. He might’ve been oblivious to it but she needed him to understand.

“Hey, hey, hey, now! Don’ put all the blame on me! You know damn well that I’m tired too! Sorry if I can’t exactly be right there at this moment to kiss your feet, princess! You know how my job works!”, Harry shot back. He might’ve felt bad and guilty when she started talking but after she accused him of such things, he wasn’t going to have it.

“You’re not denying it. God, I’m so stupid…”. Having a bad thought is something, but having someone somewhat confirm it goes to a whole new level. Harry wasn’t denying it. He was, indeed, giving up on them. Y/N’s mind was racing as she received what she thought was her reality-check.

“Y/N…”, he was strangely calm this time. Something was definitely up.

“Oh, so now you’ve got something to say?!”, she spat at him once again and if he was just previously coming down to his senses again, he wasn’t anymore. Her attitude was getting straight to his nerves.

“You know what? Just go straight to the point, yeah? I know what you’re doing here. Might as well just rush things up, no? I got better things to do…”

“Wow, Harry. Wow, really?! You don’t think that discussing this relationship is important?”, Y/N incredulously asked him, not waiting for a response.

“I didn’t say tha-”

“Well, you didn’t have to. I might just do you a favor and rush things up for you, yeah?!”, she huffed, mocking his previous words. “I can’t do this with you anymore. Clearly, you don’t give a shit about this so I might as well just end it, yeah?”. Y/N’s voice was slightly shaky but she managed to cover it up with a cough. She wasn’t sure if she had exploded way too suddenly and quickly in the course of their conversation but this was the least of her problems right now. She was literally breaking up with him.

“So you’re breaking up with me?!”. It was Harry’s turn to be stunned now. “You said I was the one giving up on us, but look at you now! Are we really not worth the fight for you?!”

“Oh, don’t put this all on me, Harry! You know damn right you gave up on us long ago! I’m just doing us both a favor ending this vicious cycle we’re in!” Y/N yelled, following with a sniffle and a sudden change in the room. It was quiet. None of them dared to say anything else at this moment. She had tears pricking at her eyes, begging to run free across her cheeks — but she wasn’t going to allow them. At least not now.

Vicious cycle? Is that really what you think this is- is that really what you thing we are? This could be nothing but a rough patch for all we know and you’re literally just throwing it all away?!”, Harry couldn’t believe the words he just came in contact with. How dare she say that?

“You know what?! I’m done arguing. Goodbye, Harry. I hope you have a great life!”

And just like that, Y/N ended the call and as much as Harry tried to be fast enough to stop her, his screen went blank and she was gone.

Right after she shut her laptop close, she broke into sobs. Did she make the right choice? Was there any chance left for them?

It wasn’t exactly an easy breakup — if you could even call it that. Y/N was aware of the words exchanged just now but she didn’t really feel as though as they were broken up. I mean, it’s Harry we’re talking about here. They’ve been together for the past two years and their relationship literally ended through a video-call.

It just didn’t seem… real. None of them got any closure. She literally shut the argument close, leaving both herself and Harry as confused as they could be.

Y/N knew what she was bound to do the next few days: grieve their relationship. Saying she was happy throughout their journey together was at least minimizing it all down to one word. There was no way she could describe what their love and connection felt like.

Both of them said things they didn’t mean. But was it worth going back on her words and apolozing? The pain that was unintentionally inflicted on her due to the distance and lack of contact with Harry was enough to bring her mind right back to where it was, in the first place. But, isn’t small contact better than none?

She was so stunned by the episode that just occurred that she didn’t even think about how Harry was feeling right now. Was he happy? Relieved that they were done? Sad? Shaken up?

And that’s how her next few days were spent: with her battling against her mind to give her some peace and with questions practically swimming around her mind — questions to which she had no intentions to finding the answers to.

Whenever, Y/N finds herself in hard situations, like a breakup, for example, she likes to be alone. She simply felt utterly lost and helpless — even though there was nothing simple about these two emotions.

She had to face the fact that she was now on her own and figure out a way to overcome Harry and hers breakup. Y/N had never loved someone as much as she did him and moving on would be complicated and perhaps even challenging. Might as well try to start now already, no?

Her trace of thought was immediately interrupted by a loud knock at her door, making Y/N huff in annoyance and get up from her lying position on the couch.

As she was making her way to the door, the person she missed most spoke on the other side of it, making her halt every movement she had — including her breathing.

“Y/N, love, please open up?”

part 2? yes? no? let me know! x

thank you for reading x

Masterlist

anonymous asked:

Sorry for asking but you're okay with straight allies, right?

in my line of work, you eventually reach a point where you know when you’re being followed. you stop registering exactly what it is that tips you off. it’s one thing, or it’s the other; whether it was the snap of a twig, the skittering of an animal into hiding behind you, or an eerie silence drawn too long, it doesn’t matter. what matters is how you deal with it after you realise.

this is one of those moments i can’t dial back to figure out what set it off. i’m focused on the details of the present. i’m focused on making sure i don’t change my pace. making sure i don’t look like i suspect a thing. the rhythm of walking is familiar, almost casual. you don’t live this long if you’re not good at what you do, and accusations of ego be damned, i am one of the best.

the checklist in my head runs faster than the small hand of my watch, a blur of contingencies. marked: the gun readied in my grasp, the knife in my boot, the twinge of pain in my left shoulder. security got one good hit in before i was gone. some part of me thinks i let that happen. that i wasn’t entertained enough to bring flawlessness into tonight’s equation.

it’s an easy figure that i’ve been trailed since i left. the night is disturbingly still, even for what it is. in this part of the world, the darkness brings a cold that bites right into your bones.

the alley i turn into smells overwhelmingly of blood.

not willing to take chances, i don’t bother stopping to see where the scent’s coming from. i could be drowning in the stuff now and not know it. by the overpowering stench, i might well be. the minutes have been gauged down to the final heartbeat, and this is exactly when it’s about to turn. whoever is following me should know by now that i know. the only thing we have left to figure out is who wins this game.

it doesn’t take longer than a few seconds, drenched in vertigo. there is a resounding crack against the brick wall of the alleyway, and i whirl to take a step forward, handgun-first. my free hand has found its position at the switch on my earpiece, ensuring HQ will hear every second of what is about to ensue. the breath i’ll use to tell my attacker to stand down has already been taken by the time i realise there is no one there.

jerkily, as if witnessed under strobe lights, i lower my weapon. the quiet buzz of my earpiece seems muted underneath my suddenly racing heart. everything flickers. in the suffocated seconds between, i raise my hand to my face. the alley doesn’t smell like blood; my nose is bleeding. i search blearily for a solution. poison? that would explain the fogginess.

a swear under my breath gets filtered out and hidden underneath the sickly saccharine tone of a voice behind me. “sorry for asking,” it croons, “but…”

my vision is a flashing, afterimage-infested mess as i spin to try to track the source of the voice. what i see is something i’m not certain i really see at all, something i doubt you could find in daylight. something i doubt you could find anywhere that still holds life. i fumble for my gun again but the beast before me takes hold of my hand and stills it. it is so close to my face that i can see nothing else. an acrid smell, like petrol, covers up even the blood.

in my head i’m begging for something to happen, praying that my earpiece still works. someone has to hear this. someone has to help or snap me out of this nightmare. i’ve been here long enough to know how to show no fear, but it still catches up with me. i hear the twinge in my voice, spitting, “don’t touch me,” and pretending it is some kind of threat.

the beast doesn’t heed it. it leans in further, brushing against my cheek. i do not want to hear the question it has. i expect it to kill me.

“… you’re okay with straight allies, right?” the beast whispers, and i hear the remaining static from HQ fizzle out.

anonymous asked:

Sorry but am I the only one SOBBING after Louis' interview???? So much of it just hurt my heart but a lot of it just made me even prouder and jfc I have too many emotions rn pls tell me I'm not alone

…I mean…I liked the pictures? 

I’ve been thinkin about this a lot. So I’m going to elaborate.

When it comes to just about anything to do with Louis this is 100% me

And while there were definitely parts of the interview that had me wanting to cry in a very not so cool way, a lot of it just didn’t quite sit well with me. I’m not surprised with how they’re marketing Louis, since this is the same incompetent “team” that’s been behind his PR for years, but the content of the interview just had me like  

Let’s focus on the positive for a moment…he looks incredible.

Like

But then as you start to add headlines to these photos it’s gets a bit…eh

Louis is so incredibly talented as both a a singer and songwriter and this narrative is disappointing because when you’re trying to launch someone’s solo SINGING career, exactly what good does it do to begin a headline with “Not the best singer”? 

Which is why when people praise this article saying how great it is I’m like

There are certainly very honest and raw moments in this article, and I do think it was well written. The parts of actual dialogue are gripping, but the way in which they’re framed sells Louis short in my opinion. I can’t sit here and say, “Wow this part was great and I’m just going to ignore all the other bits that kind of stuck out as odd to me.” 

They are using the same, and I mean the EXACT same, marketing tactics that they used with One Direction.

They’ve always tried to sell him as this working class Donny lad figure, which I’m pretty sure is why his relationship with Jamie Vardy has been so heavily publicised (aside from the rumours that he’ll play him in the biopic), but they’ve really made it sound like if he hadn’t made it into One Direction that he’d be mining coal somewhere right now…

And as ever, his image is tightly wound around a heterosexual “he’s taken” narrative. 

The difference between the use of “girlfriend” and “partner” is significant in that it implies permanence and adding fatherhood to that really shows how aggressively they’re veering away from targeting a young female audience demographic in terms of traditional marketing. They managed to put all that information into this article without any actual words from Louis.

The unfortunate thing about this article, is that the two things Louis actually talked about the least are now becoming the focal point of the narrative. 

Like, okay. We get it. He is doing the sex with the women. And all these seemingly random pap shots and snapchat cameos are suddenly coming out of the woodwork and they still can’t get a new quote about it…

What concerns me is that they’ve used their first opportunity to market Louis’ solo career this way. The end of the article is oddly dark and unsettling…

What the hell even was that? Like a pat on the back and a “Good luck kid,” as he chain smokes into the sunset? The vibe was very

And yeah, there have been some aggressive injustices in Louis’ life, no one should have to lose their mother that young and that suddenly, and I thought that part of the article was extremely well handled and verbalised. But, as someone who has appreciated Louis’ talent for years now, this article really didn’t have to make his insecurities the focal point. He didn’t have to diminish his existing collaborations by saying that he couldn’t get “big names” in the studio with him, therefore now isolating himself from pretty much everyone in the music industry. And the fact Simon Cowell got a nod in the article was like, “Hi! I’m a red flag!”

Like, Jesus Christ, he was put in a boy band, not sent to war. And if you’re telling me that Simon Cowell can’t pick up the phone and get big name writers into a room with Louis Tomlinson then I don’t know what to say. What bothers me the most is that this entire article sounds like a regurgitated speech from Simon Cowell that he probably used to manipulate Louis over the past five years. Despite his HUGE fan base, which has made him the most engaged with celebrity on Instagram, someone is still telling Louis he isn’t a frontman, when he has a global audience telling him the exact opposite. This article makes it sound like Syco is taking some kind of chance on one of the most successful musicians of the last decade. Louis wrote more of One Direction’s songs than any other member and there’s absolutely no reason to make his debut album sound more dramatic than Dunkirk. Like, “In a world where no one believed in him…Louis Tomlinson had to learn to believe in himself…COMING SUMMER 2017!” 

Ugh. It just…   

Anyway, I’m crying in a cool way over how gorgeous Louis looks here as a dramatic cat lady. 

And now it’s time to sashay away. Thanks for listening!

Knowing Him

Summary: Songfic AU. Reader struggles with new feelings and insecurities in a new relationship.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,596

Warnings: language, fluff, insecurity, bagel discourse

A/N: This is for @propertyofpoeandbucky‘s writing challenge (non-disney). My prompt was the song “How Will I Know?” by the iconic Whitney Houston. It’s short and fluffy. I listened to this song so many times I need a five-year break from it, haha.

Originally posted by sebbystanimagines

Keep reading

Pink Floyd

Originally posted by riverdaleselite

A/N: I’M BACK… and so soon as well. Enjoy, beautiful (yes, I’m talking to you).

Request:  Hi honey ! <3 I was wondering if you could write an imagine, where Jughead always sees a little girl in Pop’s, she eats ice cream or drink milkshakes after school, and she is really talkatvive, annoys him a lot, but she reminds him so much of Jellybean so he never was mean to her, only in playful way, and when he find out, that she has a cute older sister at his age (reader) he likes her even more ? ^^

Word Count: 1,913

Warnings: None

Keep reading

Pink Lemonade

Summary: Richie Tozier finds himself in a sticky situation and is forced to hide in a closet for safety. He wasn’t expecting to find the space already occupied, and he defiantly wasn’t expecting to enjoy the company so much.

A/N: I actually hate this chapter, it is such a filler. I mean it’s leading somewhere but god, get on with it. Oh well, let us go on!!!!

Word Count: 1930

Masterlist


Part: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) 6

Richie looked at his clock, noticing how late he was running. He cursed, hurrying through his door as fast as his feet would take him. The truck door slammed against his leg, pushing against his bruises but he ignored the pain, shoving the key in the ignition and breathing life into his beat up vehicle. He smirked, pulling from his drive and flooring it, the sound of his screeching tires echoing in the cool morning air.

By the time he had made it to the Kaspbrak household Eddie was already standing by the curb, his face scrunching up in frustration. Richie pulled beside him, smiling proudly. “You’re late.” The small boy sneered before hopping into the cab.

“Well good morning to you too sunshine.” He replied back cheerfully.

“I still don’t understand why Bill can’t just pick me up. He lives right down the street.” Eddie grumbled, buckling his seatbelt.

“Well like I explained yesterday, Bill and Stan are at the crucial point in their relationship where they like to suck face in the back of Billy Boy’s car before class.” Richie retorted, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it before shifting in gear and continuing towards the school. “So unless you’re into three-some’s I think you might want to reconsider who you ride with.”

Eddie huffed in annoyance, “Does it have to be you though? You were late on the first day!”

“Exactly Eddie Bear, the first day. Give me time to adjust to my new schedule!” He replied, stealing a glance at his friend. The bruises on his face and neck had healed some over the weekend but was still black and purple in places making Richie feel sick. He took in a long drag, exhaling slowly. “So how did your mom take your face?” The question was quick but Eddie flinched none the less.

“I spent all day yesterday in the ER, getting CAT scans.” He replied, shrugging his shoulders and sighing. “She was sure I had a concussion or brain bleed or something. Didn’t want me going to school today because of it.”

“Huh well that sucks ass, way to stick it to her.”

“What about you?” He asked, staring at Richie’s own bruised mug. “How did your folks take it?”

“Wouldn’t know.” Richie muttered, flicking his death stick out the open window. “Mom was too drunk to take notice and Dad hasn’t been back all weekend.”

“Oh.” He whispered, looking out towards the upcoming school. “I-I’m sorry.”

Richie shrugged off the sentiment, pulling into a parking space. “Nothing to be sorry about.” He replied, offering a smile to his classmate. “Been like that my whole life, wouldn’t know what to do if my parents took notice of me.”

Eddie frowned, opening his mouth to respond only to be cut off by Mike who had pounced across the hood of the truck with a loud, obnoxious thud. The boy smiled widely, looking through the windshield at them, “Well look at you two, a matching pair.”

Richie rolled his eyes, opening his car door. “I’ll show you a matching pair Hanlon” He yelled making a rather crude gesture through his pants. Mike laughed, tumbling back onto the ground. The trashmouth looked over to his small friend and grinned. “Coming along Eds?”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie replied, opening his own door and hoping out. He headed towards the school entrance, not looking back at his driver. Richie followed obediently, swearing he could see a blush creep up the small boy’s neck.


Richie walked Eddie to his first period, waving at him as he disappeared through the door. He whistled a light tune, heading towards his Chemistry class that he shared with Beverly and Ben. As he sat down the two took notice to his enjoyable attitude.

“Someone is in a good mood.” Ben remarked, opening his book to the lab that they were to do for the day. He looked up and cringed. “What happened to your face?”

“Got in a fight.” Richie replied casually, “Was defending your mothers honor so you’re welcome.”

Beverly rolled her eyes, “He was trying to defend Eddie’s honor and got his ass kicked.”

“So it is true.” Ben remarked, grinning happily. “You do have a thing for him.”

“I do not.” The trashmouth protested, “Who in the hell told you that?”

“Me.”

“Beverly!” He hissed, “What the fuck!”

She shrugged, “What’s the big deal? You took a beating for the kid, it that doesn’t scream ‘I like you’ then I honestly don’t know what does.”

“Still, was it necessary to tell Haystack?” He bit, ignoring the lecture that had begun up front. “Who else have you told?”

“No one.” Beverly replied coldly, shoving his shoulder. “God, paranoid much?”

“Yeah I guess I am, my best friend has a huge mouth.” He retorted, huffing in frustration. Beverly scoffed, flipping him off and drawing attention back to their group.

“Please pay attention back there!” The elderly lady screeched, pointing her finger to the three friends.

“We are Ms. Dupree.” Ben replied, gesturing to his open book.

The teacher narrowed her eyes, practically spitting venom towards them. “If you are paying attention then tell me Mr. Hanscom, what is the most abundant protein in the human body?”

“Collagen.” Ben replied proudly. The teacher sneered, turning back to the black board in defeat. Richie patted his friend on the back, whispering a quick and kind thank you before settling down in his seat. Every now and then he would shoot a dirty look to Beverly, which she so kindly ignored.

“If it’s any consolation,” The stout boy in his group whispered, leaning across the lab towards Richie. “I heard Eddie likes you too.”

“What?” Richie sputtered in surprise, his heart fluttering in his chest. “Who told you that?”

“Can’t tell.”  He replied, smirking. “I don’t want to have a huge mouth.”

Beverly laughed.


Lunch came quickly and the trahsmouth headed to their table in the quad. Bill and Stan had arrived first completely engrossed in their own conversation. Richie beamed as he sat down, pulling the cigarette from his pocket and lit it before asking, “So what are you two lover boys talking about?”

“None of your business.” Stan bit, eyeing the death stick in his hand. “And I told you before, you can’t smoke out here.”

“Wow I think that’s the first time you’ve spoken to me in school.” Richie replied, taking in an exasperated drag. “Talk rules to me baby, I like it.”

Bill smiled, chuckling at the unhealthy exchange. “W-we were talking about t-the out of s-state game this weekend.” He replied, nodding at Mike and Ben how had taken their usual seats beside them. “T-there is a bunch of s-students going, renting a h-hotel and everything.”

“I heard that.” Ben added awkwardly. “I think it’s just an excuse to party without parents busting down the door.”

“Probably.” Mike replied, “The game’s supposed to be a blow out.”

“So are you guys going?” Richie asked, smoke trailing out of his nostrils.

Bill shrugged, “I-I don’t know, I-I think it’ll be f-fun. If w-we go t-together we can s-split rooms.”

“I think it’s a stupid idea.” Stan hissed, rolling his eyes.

“Oh then we must go.” Richie joked, winking at the annoyed friend.

“Go where?” The group looked up to notice Eddie and Beverly who had arrived together. As they sat down Richie looked over to his best friend, handing her a cigarette as a peace offering, which she accepted.

“Out of state football game, hotel and party. You down?” Mike asked, smirking at Richie knowingly. The trashmouth noticed, nearly choking on his smoke. He turned and ripped the cigarette from Bev’s fingers.

“Hey!” She protested, “What did you do that for?”

“You know why.” He bit, crushing the already diminished stick he had and sucking down the new one. She didn’t reply, only scoffing in annoyance.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at the weird exchange, only shaking his head. “I guess if I can convince my mom I’m game but it’s going to be a miracle with my face already pounded in once this year.”

Richie smirked, the dirty joke dancing on his tongue. He gulped down the inappropriate comment, taking in a drag instead. “W-Well try, and l-let us know t-tonight so we c-can make the r-reservations.”

“Fine.” The small boy replied, taking his first bite of his lunch. “But I doubt she’ll go for it.”

“I bet she will go for me.” Richie joked, unable to keep his comments to himself.

“Oh shove off Tozier.” He replied, smirking playfully.


It was after the sixth ring and second shout from his mother that Richie picked up the phone, cursing the person in the process. “Tozier residence, sober one speaking.”

“He can go.” A high pitched girl practically squealed from the other line.

“What?”

“Eddie.” Beverly explained, the television blaring behind her. “He convinced his mom it was an overnight field trip and he told Bill he can go this weekend.”

Richie felt his heart jump into his throat, “Seriously? That hag believed him?”

“I guess so!”

“Holy shit.” He replied, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Didn’t think that squirt had it in him.”

“You know you have to make a move right?” Beverly asked, her voice laced with seriousness that made Richie’s stomach twist painfully. “It’ll be the perfect time and you know it.”

“Beverly-“

“Come on.” She whined, and Richie could practically hear her stop her foot through the phone. “You just have to okay? If you don’t you may never get a chance like this again.”

He sighed, leaning his head against the wall. “I know.” And he did know because the word had gotten out about what had happened this weekend, earning Eddie extra attention that had attracted other possible suitors. If he didn’t do something soon he would be forced to sit back and watch the boy he liked screw around when he would give anything for it to be him who Eddie was screwing.

“Just ask him Richie.”


The rest of the week went by in a blur of planning and excitable discussions as friend’s argued how they were going to all make the five hour drive. In the end it was settled that Bill was going to drive his car while Richie drove his truck. With Mike heading down with the team it left six of them to endure the trip together.

Saturday came and the friends met outside of Bill’s house, everyone eager for their upcoming adventure. Richie stayed in his vehicle, his head lulling against his shoulders while his hand bit into an energy drink. Last night had been one of the worst sleeps he had ever endured. His refusing to quit as it made up scenarios about the next day. Every single one involved Eddie and every single one ended badly

The car door creaked opened and Richie groaned. “About time Beverly, I thought you were going to-“He stopped, noticing the smallish kid in his passenger seat. His eyebrow raised in confusion, “The fuck are you doing here?”

“I was kicked out of the other car.” He huffed, buckling his seat belt. Richie felt his heart kink in his chest. “Apparently it had been decided that I was stuck with your ass.”

A grin curled on the trashmouths face, “Well aren’t you lucky.” He cooed, “I’m clearly the best road trip partner, I have a great taste in music.

Eddie scoffed, “I doubt that.”

“Just wait Eds, there is a lot that can surprise you.”


Tags: @decaffeinatedpostmoon @kylieee827-blog @dmbbtch100 @richietoaster @kaspdrak @sodaoutsiders @imdefinitelynotaserialkiller @solbrenthimmel @smol-bi-cat @ailorian @arizona-in-my-veins @tailored-shirt-tails @imakittehkatt @0ptimihstic @lizwillstealyourgirl @hausofnikyhausofu @anniewdoodles @king-of-misfits7 @officallyreddie @reddie80s @ghostlykath @blurryfacehasapproved @just-an-akward-fangirl @beanpoleoverload @spooky-risley @mrsroof-dylann9 @bluuryfacehasapproved @ethicallychallengedwitch @s-s-gorgie @miserableandmagical12 @pretzelstoday@eds2fannypacks​  @bloggerboy101 @maisy-the-fangirl @richytozier @deansgirl1993 @badboyharrington @eds-kaspbrak @pretzelstoday @goldenreddie @longlivethetampon @eddiekazier @cawcawhawkeye @itslifelongthoughts @colorful-dodie @notagoodplace4gods @losersclubreddie

TST is so goddamn blue: a meta

TST is just all kinds of weird. Everything feels off, and even the first third, which is supposed to be light-hearted and funny, is unsettling in many ways (for instance, why was John, a doctor, driving the car when his wife, Mary, was going into labor instead of having Sherlock drive? We know Sherlock can drive very well from THoBV, so wtf? And why would Sherlock ever say that Mary is better than John when it clearly hurt John that he’d say that? And what was the narrative point of the dog being there, apart from the fact that Sherlock likes dogs? Anyway, I digress.)

One theory that I’ve seen going around is that Sherlock is narrating this episode, and therefore, we’re dealing with an unreliable narrator. If Sherlock is in fact telling this story to his therapist, Ella, at the end of the episode, and is lying about some parts of his story, then what is he lying about? Well, one option is that he’s lying about how Mary died in order to protect someone. But he’s Sherlock… who would he bother protecting?

“It’s always you, John Watson.” Of course. It probably has to do with John. With saving and protecting John, as is Sherlock’s MO.

One theory by @the-7-percent-solution that I’m extremely fond of at the moment is that John killed Mary, and Sherlock is lying to his therapist in order to protect John (just like Watson may have lied in the original ACD story Charles Augustus Milverton to protect Holmes after Holmes presumably killed Milverton, which is what Mofftiss believe happened), and to give John an alias. Which would mean that quite a lot of the episode is either a fabrication, or changed slightly in order to make the story more convincing.

And, since I noticed that there is a LOT of blue in this episode, I decided to go through and examine the most blue-lit and blue-colored scenes, and see if I anything popped out at me. Something did. It might be nothing, but I’m gonna roll with it and see where it goes.

This is the scene where Sherlock discovers the A.G.R.A. memory stick in the Thatcher bust, and fights with Ajay. Everything in this scene is blue, or lit up with blue: the pool, the pool lights, the waves painted on the walls (real subtle with the Water Thing there, Mark), the police lights. It’s overwhelmingly blue. Which means that, if blue coloring or lighting means that Sherlock is lying (and I will explain why I think that might be the case in just a second) then Ajay’s story about why he’s actually hunting down Mary - or even the way/reason that Sherlock discovers the memory stick - might be either a lie, or a half-lie on Sherlock’s part (assuming he’s telling Ella all this after it’s happened.)

These screenshots are taken from the montage of Rosamund Mary’s escape trip. Again, there is quite a bit of blue, especially in the transitions and maps. And the dice. Again, just like the scene where Sherlock finds the A.G.R.A. memory stick, this part of the narrative has been twisted or is unreliable. We’re not seeing the full truth here. Maybe Rosamund Mary had a much more sinister reason to leave London than just escaping another assassin. (I’m not sure this part holds up as well as some of the other blue-colored scenes, but still. I thought it was very interesting how they stuck with this one-color scheme across so many scenes in this episode.)

This is the scene where Rosie begins crying, and John texts the girl from the bus stop. Again, everything in this scene is pretty damn blue; at least it stood out as being strangely blue to me. I mean, c’mon, even the bathroom tiling and towels are blue:

So maybe that means that this scene isn’t entirely true, either. The unreliable narrator - Sherlock, possibly - has embellished or left out something critical to understanding (in context) this scene. I’m not entirely sure what to make of this one, but maybe someone can help me out with figuring out how/why this scene might possibly have been a lie or a half-lie.

So I think this one is pretty self-explanatory. This whole scene is so strange and off, as many people who are much better at this whole meta thing than I am have already pointed out (I.E., John, an army doctor, not doing anything other than talk to his dying wife when he could clearly do so much more to help save her… jfc?)

Maybe Rosamund Mary didn’t really die in this sccene. Maybe, after finding out something about Mary’s past or present while confronting her about the A.G.R.A. memory stick or Morocco (again, assuming that both those scenes weren’t shown to the audience exactly how they happened) John killed her, and Sherlock’s protecting John by not telling the story how it really happened. Or maybe it’s something else… but there is an incredible amount of blue in this scene, which very clearly connects it (for me) to the previous scenes I’ve mentioned.

After Rosamund Mary’s death scene, the camera pans up and we get this shot:

A blue shark. And since sharks have repeatedly been associated with villains already on this show, that’s pretty damn suggestive. The shark is still swimming - it hasn’t stopped, and therefore it hasn’t died.

After the blue shark, we immediately get this shot a box (coffin? Ashes?) burning with blue flames:

Again, this is sticking to a common color scheme present in many other scenes that could easily have been changed or fabricated to hide a much more sinister side of Rosamund Mary, and a very different version of that aquarium scene. So maybe Rosamund Mary isn’t actually dead, or the how/why of her death is a lie, or, or, or…

And that brings me to why I think that blue might be important.  In one of the last scenes in the episode, we see that Sherlock is in therapy, and trying to figure out what to “do about John.”

Strangely, the therapist, Ella, has an office that’s painted blue: walls, ceiling, everything. (It is also shaped similarly to the tube in the aquarium, and lit in a very similar way to the room where Rosamund Mary died, but I’m not entirely sure that has any significance?) Oftentimes, when pressured to make something up or lie about something, people will look to what’s around them to help them come up with material for their lies. So if Sherlock is recounting this story from his memory, isn’t it possible that his surrounding are leaking into how he sees those memories, especially the ones that aren’t coming from his memory because they’re partially or fully falsehoods?

And then the episode ends on this shot:

More blue, with Sherlock framed in front of water, on his way to “save John Watson.” Real subtle, Mark.


((If anyone recognizes a reference to one of their metas in this post, please, please, please tell me and I’ll tag you and give credit! I really don’t want to seem like I’m stealing anyone’s theories, I just got excited by all the metas I was seeing and decided to make one, too!))

My Virgin Sacrifice


Pairing: Lucifer X Reader
Warnings: Smut, DaddyK!nk, bossy!Lucifer, blood, bad language.
Summary: Y/n is witch who is being sacrificed to Lucifer. In a twisted chain of events there is a wicked witch, a good witch, and a handsome devil. 
Author’s Note: Hi everyone! My drabble Sinful for Lucifer took off so well these last few days, and since I can’t get the Devil out of my head, I decided to give you guys a whole story. I am not sure if it any good, but let me know. I hope you like it. As always, please see my page for more of my work, and look for the master-list which should be out very soon!
Word count of story: Approximately 2500 words


    Your grandmother was a witch, just as your mother was. You had grown up with a love for witchcraft sprouting from their teachings at a very early age. Of course, your family and home coven stayed far away from anything too sinister and dastardly for obvious reasons. Curses, hexes, and demons tended to backfire, or at least end very badly for the witch. Especially when hunters got involved.
    As you grew older you grew fonder of the idea of traveling, absorbing all the knowledge and wisdom you could across the lands. And with a lifted heart and demeanor, you did. Seeing everything you could-learning all you could-of evil and good. But even you could tell that the world was shifting. Demons became more and more frequent, hauntings became more and more deadly, and good witches became few. Even the hunters began to fizzle out one by one. By the time your grandmother left this earth and your mother took control of the coven, rumors had begun to spread about the rise of the true king.
The true one to rule hell and all those that belong to hell. The archangel that had started and would restart the war between Heaven and Hell.
                                   

                                                  Lucifer.

Growing worried for your mother and the good of your coven you returned home, only to find your coven in a state of power-hungry, evil infused paranoia under the charge of a lady who called herself Sirena. Sirena was a force you had never met before. She was cunning and vindictive, and seemingly all knowing. Sirena was quick to punish those she doubted and the returning daughter of the head witch she had overthrown was just that. An opponent to test her power and dedication to her King Lucifer.

     She had attacked you before you had time to even register what had happened.  And after you lay bruised and battered on the ground, she commanded those who used to be your trusted friends to help her bind you.

“Y/n, it’ll all be fine. Lucifer will be every so gracious of your sacrifice. Why, he might even be as gracious as to grant our coven everlasting favor in the courts of Hell! Think of the good you’ll be doing here!” Sirena preached to you as she pulled the ropes tighter to your skin.

“I didn’t sign up for this, Sirena. You know that! You have taken a peaceful coven, and turned all these women vengeful,” You say as you struggle against the bonds that hold your hands and feet.

“Oh sweetheart, that was what your mother thought too, but you’ll see. Everyone will see. I’ve finally perfected the perfect spell, and it’s sure to reach our King’s ears this time,” she said with a wicked laugh. She back away from you to pick up a long-curved dagger from the table nearby. “Just think about it,” she started with another awful cackle, turning back towards you as she played with the knife, “you’re the perfect sacrifice! I mean before I killed your mother, I had heard about her talk about you to the others. You’re still pure-in more ways than one.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” you cried, swinging your gaze to your once friends who stood facing you on the far wall, pleading with your eyes for them to save you.

 “Oh Y/n, that won’t work. They are no longer easily persuaded. Now, back to the matters at hand. You know exactly what I mean when I say ‘pure’. You’re still pure of heart, in fact you almost have a childlike sense of wonder,” Sirena pressed the dagger under your chin, forcing your head up and your eyes to hers. “You also have never been-bedded, to put nicely. So innocently pure. A virgin sacrifice for the King. How classically polite.”

   Your eyebrow raised automatically. The bitterness of the situation finding you now, “You polite or nice? I’ve known you five minutes and I’m tied to a chair being sacrificed because I’ve never been ‘bedded’.”

  Sirena’s smile twitched and you watched as her eyes glazed over for a split second before her hand moved. In that second, she moved and you felt the cold sting of the blade across your cheek. When she pulled back again, the dagger was lined with blood, and Sirena? She was looking quite proud of herself.
       “Fine, fucked. You’re just as picky as your mother was. I was trying not to offend your delicate ears, but now I don’t care. With this offering of your blood, Lucifer will practically praise me. That is of course after he rapes and devours you,” Sirena cackled.

She began reciting a spell you in a language not even you had ever heard, but you couldn’t really pay attention to any of that. Your face and your body hurt. Your mother was dead, and your coven betrayed your family. Your life was officially sucking right now, and you could give a damn less what else was happening around you.
A bright light in the room caught your attention, if not for the simple fact it practically blinded you. Sirena began laughing again, spinning and clapping, searching the room with her eyes. She turned to you when the light completely faded with a scowl.


  “It didn’t work!” she raged. “How could have not worked? You slut! You must have fucked someone, or else it wouldn’t have worked. You filthy whore liar! I’ll-“


“Now, now, let’s not be quick to kill anyone, especially my sacrifice,” a cold male voice said filling the room.


       “My King!” Sirena said dropping to her knees. “I apologize for disturbing you, but I thought this sacrifice would prove my willingness to serve.”


  “No, it doesn’t,” Lucifer says stepping into the dimly lit room.

Originally posted by missviciderossignol


When your eyes found his, you almost gasped. He was gorgeous. He was blonde headed and freckled, lean but built, and he had a very arrogant bad boy nature. He regarded you in a calm, distant expression, but it didn’t seem to be one of hate. His eyes seemed to glow back at yours for a second more before he shifted his attention back to Sirena, his look darkening.


“I am trying to plan and carry out the Apocalypse-or did you forget that?” he asked Sirena pacing closer to where she was standing near you.


“I apologize King, I thought she would please you.”


“She looks-quite tasty, but that is not the point. Disturbing me is very rude, when you could have come to me like every other damn demon has with their signs of loyalty. Instead you summon me? Do you have any idea what I was in the middle of?”


“I am truly sorry, it won’t happen-” Sirena began, but Lucifer swiftly cut her off with a hand to her throat. 


The glow of his eyes seemed to brighten and he hauled her into the air with one hand. “Oh,” he said coldly, “I know it won’t.”

Just then Sirena emitted a beam of light from every orifice of her body. Lucifer pretty much burning her from inside out, and casting her lifeless body aside. He turns to you with a raised brow and relaxed look.

  “I loathe power hungry twats who disturb others, don’t you, love?” he asks almost nicely.

You blink back at him for a second before replying, “L-love?”

Lucifer doesn’t answer your question. Instead he comes closer to you expecting your bruises and cut up face. He runs his hands across your bonds, and you feel them dissipate. “No running, pet. Daddy has to heal you and take you home,” he says almost absentmindedly placing his hands on your face.

“Excuse me, what?”  You ask just as the warm feeling over takes you. It spreads through your body, making it hum and shiver, and you shift just slightly in your seat. Lucifer’s eyes connect with yours again and it’s as if he’s warning you to stay still with just his gaze.

The feeling intensifies as it spreads, and soon your body is on high alert, but tired at the same time. You feel your eyes begin to shut of their own accord. Right before the blackness of unconsciousness takes you, you hear Lucifer’s voice once more.

    “Now, let’s get you home.”

Originally posted by lucifersagents

   You awoke atop of a king size, black satin covered bed in a dark room. You no longer hurt, but you didn’t know where you were. You weren’t even sure if what you thought had happened had really happened. That would be ridiculous, right?

“It might be for an average human, but not you,” a cold voice that you were becoming all too familiar with said. Glancing up to find Lucifer starring down on you, you almost screamed, but he had already raised a hand to silence you. “I will not hurt you, Y/n. I promise. I even healed your wounds for you, pet.”


“Oh, just stop it with the ‘pet’ stuff already. We both know the only reason you are interested in me is because of that stupid ritual and the fact I am a virgin. I am not yours,” You spat out before you could think to stop yourself.


You watched Lucifer’s eyes darken menace and almost gulped in fear. “I assure you, that isn’t true. In fact, you are mine and I will prove it,” he said darkly.


“You just said you wouldn’t hurt me!” You accuse him quickly.


“And I won’t, but let me show you why you should belong to me.”


You mauled it over for a second. It would if nothing else prevent something like this from happening again, and after his virgin sacrifice infatuation wore off that was the only risk here. He did promise not to hurt you. You looked back at him and nodded. “Okay.”


You were pushed back against the black satin sheets, your arms falling to rest by your head. Your legs spread of their own accord, unable to hide the sudden arousal caused from the angel above you. 


 Lucifer hovered above you, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You moaned into his mouth as his teeth tugged on your lower lip. One hand snaked up to tangle in your hair, using it to roughly pull your head back so he could access your neck. You gasped and closed your eyes as his teeth grazed your skin and found a soft spot you never knew existed.

Originally posted by tess453


Obliviously, Lucifer had done this before. You had not. Starting to feel a bit insecure, you brought your hands up to push back against him, but he wouldn’t budge.


“Lucifer,” you gasp, trying again. “I’m not good enough for this I barely know how to kiss.”


“Don’t even think about it like that, pet,” He ordered silkily as his jean clad hips ground against yours, his manhood already hardening. 


You wrapped your legs around his waist, almost automatically, with a desperate gasp for more affection, or attention, or really anything you could get. One of his hands cupped a breast, squeezing and kneading, while his lips found the curve of the other. He sucked your skin into his mouth, his tongue leaving a cold fire across your skin. You tightened your legs around his waist, feeling a sudden wetness pooling between your legs. And in response, Lucifer ripped the shirt from your body.


He chuckled at your attentive responses, grinding his hips against yours. His hand slid from your breast down your side, his fingers a seductive dance on your skin. 


“So responsive for me, pet,” he murmured, kissing his way back up to your neck. He sucked on your neck and as his fingers slid into the waistband of your jeans and ripped those off as well causing you to moan. “That’s my girl,” he grunted, biting your neck. He pulled back and smiled proudly at the dark hickey he’d left on your skin, marking you as his woman for all eternity.


He worked his hand down to your wet heat slowly, and thrust a finger into you, his slow pace never faltering as you wiggled and bucked against him. His hips helped to keep yours steady while he worked you with his hand, his other hand tugging at your hair and his lips alternating between decorating your neck and devouring your now naked breasts.


  You felt a foreign knot building in your belly, but before it could burst, Lucifer removed his finger. You whimpered shamelessly at the loss of contact and he chuckled darkly. He hovered above you, angling his hips so that his manhood rubbed against your entrance, and you noticed you had completely missed how he had gotten his jeans off.  Finding yourself not caring, however you tried your best to hint to him that you needed him with your body.


He growled back at you when he noticed your slight shimmies for his attention and sprung on you like a wild tiger. His lips attacked your skin, as he rubbed his manhood through your wetness. The contact rubbed against your clit, causing your hips to jerk upwards.


“That’s right, kitten. Let Daddy take care of you,” he instructed, sitting back and using his hands on your hips to help position you. You complied, finding little shame anymore in Lucifer’s arms.


Lucifer positioned himself above you, his hands on your hips as he thrust into your sex slowly. You moaned at feeling him inside you, and although slightly strange-there was no pain. Your legs began spreading more to entice him further. He understood, pushing in as far as he could. His hands gripped your hips bruisingly as he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Working you over very well for your first time. You moaned loudly and your hands gripped the pillow, all of your senses gone. All you could focus on was Lucifer pounding into you like he owned you. This archangel making you his prize.

Originally posted by palehand


  He leaned over you, one hand tangling in your hair and tugging your head forward. You mewled and turned your head to meet his lips in a possessive kiss. He sucked your tongue into his mouth as he continued his thrusts. While you were lost in his kiss, the hand on your hip slid forward between your folds to rub mercilessly at your clit, earning a string of loud whorish moans from your lips which he eagerly swallowed. 


The knot in your belly exploded, your orgasm gushing. He kept his pace causing you to drag your nails down his toned chest. His hands gripped your hips so he could thrust his hips into yours, his pelvis striking your clit with each thrust, sending your orgasm skyrocketing upwards yet again.


Your name fell from his lips like a moaned prayer, the sound making you moan in return. “Please…” You stammered, wrapping your arms around him. “I-I… I can’t…”


“Not yet.” He ordered and you struggled to take a ragged breath, in a failed attempt to get a hold of yourself. “You are absolutely delicious, pet,” He informed you. “So responsive, so willing.”


“Please….” You whispered. “Just… please.”


“I’m sorry, what was that? Who are you talking to, Little Girl?” He asked innocently.


“Lucifer, please I need you…” You pleaded, grinding your hips up as best as you could. He grunted, but still did not relent. 


“No, pet. What is my name?” He demanded once more, slowing his pace almost completely.


You groaned out, frustrated, but completely turned on. “Daddy, please!”
“Much better, pet.” He growled and without pause, he was buried up to the hilt inside of you once more. You couldn’t help the shriek that was pulled from your lips as he began to brutally slam into you. His lips once again lock onto your chest, sucking. You barely notice as your hands wrap around his back nails digging into skin. “Moan for me, Little Girl.” He grunts, hitting that spot deep inside you.

Originally posted by sensuous

“Daddy!” You manage to choke out as he hits that spot with every thrust.


“I can’t hear you.” He punctuates each word with a snap of his hips.


“Daddy!” You scream as the knot that was building once more explodes, cause your whole body to jerk. Lucifer’s own orgasm followed yours, and as he cried out with you, he held you close as he worked you both through it, slowly. When you both had finally calmed down, he withdrew and looked at you. His next words shocking your ecstasy ridden body.


“If you think you are leaving me, Y/n, you are wrong. You are mine. Forever. My virgin sacrifice.”


Originally posted by sparkling-lucifer

anonymous asked:

WTF was all that pure pastel pink promo shit weeks ago? I feel like I dreamt it. Now when I look at the album art and listen to the lyrics about different women and sex and I make no correlation to the pure soft vulnerable bare Harry on the cover. WTF is the hard candy lyrics? WTF is going on with 'I am not a womanizer' image. Oh yeah sex, drugs & rock'n'roll. That's what's going on. As a fan of rock music I am so proud of the album. As a fan of Harry, I am disappointed.

Hello, and thank you for your message.

I completely understand. In fact this morning I did a full rant about my thoughts on the matter via Twitter. You can read it here. Like high key, Twitter is where I have no filter and am like “THIS IS WHAT I’M THINKING!!” and Tumblr is where I’m an analytical hoe about things, so let’s analyse!

I listened to the breakfast show last night (as I am currently in LA) and then fell into a mini rage coma because I, too, was like, “What the actual fuck just happened?” Then I woke up to this:

And I was like, “Well this is probably the most damage control we’ve ever gotten or will get.”    

HOWEVER! The dichotomy from Harry rainbow-wearin Styles and this NO HOMO I HAVE HETERO SEX WITH ALL THE WOMEN Hersh makes me…uneasy. That’s the only word I can come up with. Let’s be honest, last week Harry looked about one tattoo and rainbow away from coming out. This might as well have been him at that hockey game:

And then today with this…

There’s just this constant push and pull between what Harry DOES and what he says in interviews. But I get it. I do. Harry Styles is a billion dollar commodity. Do you understand how much revenue he’s brought to Sony in the last month? He sold out a tour for music that no one had even heard in minutes. 

At one point in my vida loca I was offered a publishing deal with a company that everyone has heard of. They wanted to publish it through their non-fiction department and they wanted me to say that I had slept with a don or professor at my university. Which I hadn’t. This was during my final year at university, and whilst I’m sure my life would’ve had a much different trajectory I’m also sure that once people figured out who I am (as many have), I would probably be stripped of my hard-earned Oxbridge degree for lying and shaming my university. Which is why you’ve never read any kind of SCANDAL at Oxbridge. Just the normal undergrad sex and drinking stuff. I rank quite low on the list of outrageous alumni if you look at the last 900 years of students. 

Back to Haz. 

Whilst I never compromised my morals, I also didn’t sign any kind of deal with the devil when I was 16. We have absolutely no idea what the details of his employment are. And he is an employee. Harry is owned by someone. Whether you like it or not, the bottom line doesn’t stop at Harry, it stops at the people who are investing in him and relying on a substantial profit. 

Perhaps the rainbows and pink and very romantic vibes he’s got going on with just about any man in his vicinity thing were all put out there to test the waters. We know that they monitor the fandom, and maybe the analytics didn’t hit their “okay to be gay” criteria. I’m speaking bluntly in terms of business because I can guarantee you that Sony cares about exactly one thing: the money that they are making for themselves. 

Something else to consider when recovering from whiplash because of this complete 180 Harry’s done since last week, is that interview with that horrible woman who said, “Fans are convinced that ‘Sweet Creature’ is about your relationship with Louis Tomlinson. Is it?” After which Harry spent approximately 138 seconds saying “Uhhhhhhhh” before refusing to say “no”. He could’ve said no! He could’ve SHOUTED no, as he did at Grimmy when he said, “Here’s a song about Taylor Swift!” One thing we got from that interview is that Harry does indeed have the word “No” in his vocabulary. “No. This isn’t about Taylor Swift.” vs “Yes. I can understand why fans think this is about Louis because it is but I would lean towards them maybe being wrong.” That isn’t how you say no. And that didn’t go over anyone’s head. 

Honestly, I love this album. “Woman” is actually my favourite song from it at the moment. I can’t really listen to “Two Ghosts” because it sounds too much like “Revelry” by Kings of Leon and that song is forever associated with a very bad time for me so yeah. “Woman” just reminds me of Bennie and the Jets and 27 Dresses.    

I just wish it could’ve been left at, “ It’s much more powerful when not taken simply as what it is.” Because that’s so true. This album is so layered and brilliant and I think I’m mostly mad that they’ve reduced it to such a boring and blatant interpretation. We got the very opposite of what Harry’s been telling us when he all but said that these songs are about actual women that he literally slept with. 

So I guess my question is…what exactly is Jeffry helping with aside from bringing back a narrative that Harry seemed to have tried relentlessly to debunk?

I just can’t reconciliate the Harry that they’re pushing this week with the Harry that reacted this way to being called a womaniser in an interview:

Regardless of what you think or ship, I do think that it’s fair to feel like you’re being asked to accept two completely contrasting versions of Harry Styles right now. 

They’re kind of assholes - Superboy x Reader (Batsis)

This is kind of a part two of “You’re kind of an asshole”, the aftermath of it all. Like now, Conner and the reader (Batman’s daughter) professed their love for each other, and it’s not to everyone’s taste. Not to name anyone but…Bruce and Clark are not ok with this. Anyway, hope you’ll like it : 

PART 1 PART 3

My masterlist blog : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com

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Batman was not happy. Not happy at all.

Superman either actually. 

They were both sitting at a table in the Watchtower’s common room, sulking and brooding (when Diana asked what was happening to Clark, as she was used to Broody Bruce, he just groaned in return and she kinda just understood that this was about you and the boy). With a scoff and a sip of his coffee, your father says : 

-This isn’t going to work.

-I know, it’s too weird. 

-I caught him in her room a few nights ago, God only know what would have happened if I didn’t came in when I did. 

-Oh please, no details. We’re talking about your daughter, whom I consider my dear niece, and my…clone. It’s just too weird ! 

-Yeah well you would be even more weirded out if you had caught them making out on her desk ! 

-Bruce, stop. Seriously. This is making me uncomfortable. 

-And you think I’m comfortable with this ? Because if you do you’re wrong. I hate it. It’s my little girl we’re talking about ! 

Diana, who was coming back from the coffee machine with a warm cup, cannot help herself and has to say : 

-You are aware that you’re daughter is an adult right ? And that when Dick started to date Barbara you didn’t say anything, even though she’s older than him. Or when Jason or Tim st…

-I know she’s an adult ! That’s the problem ! She’s growing up too fast ! And it’s not the same than with the boys…

Diana loses her amused grin, and with a very serious expression, stare at the Bat and says :

-Oh ? And how is it different ? Because she’s a girl you have to protect her more ? Or she can’t go out because of her sex ? By Hades Bruce I thought you were more open minded than that ! 

Your father just looks away and grumbles an answer no one understands. 

He knows it’s ridiculous. He knows he shouldn’t be worried, as he knows that Conner is a good man. He knows you’re an adult and are capable of taking your own decisions but…you’re also his little girl. And he doesn’t actually have a good excuse as to why he wants to protect you more dating wise than his sons…Even though Dick is the one that always end up falling in love way too fast and having his heart broke ! 

In front of him, Clark doesn’t hold Diana’s gaze either (neither him or Bruce would dare to, and besides, when she was annoyed like that, it was better to just look away and shut up), but he has the same thoughts than his friend. He wants to protect you, and for some reasons, deep down, he just can’t find the strength to trust Conner, even though the boy proved himself worthy multiple times…

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi~ can I request a single dad au with kihyun (ᵔᴥᵔ) I really love your blog!! ❤️

find other versions: hyungwon | wonho 

  • has a 9 month old son that he loves to pieces like to the point where he cries at the sight of the baby’s little smile and just,,,,,,tells everyone that he has never been more blessed in his life
  • the story of his sons birth has been told so many times to his friends that hyungwon once told him he could recite it word for word and that kihyun really,,,,,,,REALLY doesn’t have to tell it again
  • kihyun did. you bet he did
  • and although he didn’t expect to be a single father, kihyun has absolutely thrown himself into learning on how to be the best damn single father there ever was and ever will be 
  • im talking ‘raising a baby’ manuals everywhere, 3 am google searches on what specific noises mean, calling the pediatrician over only cough
  • he’s set out to prove that he can do this - he can raise his son all on his own 
  • and you’re not sure,,,,who kihyun is trying to prove it too. you’ve known him for a while and if anyone in the group was going to be a parent - kihyun would be your first pick
  • even though he’s got a mischievous side, sarcastic side jabs and mocking tones of voice, kihyun is naturally a caretaker 
  • who if anything resembles a nagging mother, overly worried but for all the right reasons
  • so when he became a dad, you had nothing but high hopes for him because you knew he could do it. everyone did
  • “you’re just too hard on yourself.” you told him once and kihyun had just shrugged “i should be, only the best for my kid!”
  • and to further more prove that kihyun gravitates to helping others was the fact that he let you stay with him on short notice
  • there had a been a leak in your apartment and out of everyone, kihyun had been the first to offer you room in his home
  • he’d hesitated when you came in about giving you the bed,,,,the cradle was there and he didn’t want to be far from it so you assured him - couch was fine
  • but kihyun,,,,,being kihyun,,,,,went “if he cries out, ill just come running. i shouldnt make guests sleep on the sofa.”
  • the first night was fine,,,,no crying,,,,,in the morning you got up and made kihyun breakfast, even warmed up the milk for the baby
  • all of which kihyun watched from the doorway, his son still fast asleep in his arms, with slight fascination
  • it had been so long,,,,,since someone else had done something for him
  • the second night - oh it was bad
  • there was crying every hour, every damn hour and you’d gotten up each time to help coo and rock the baby with kihyun
  • at first he’d went “im so sorry, just go to sleep and ill do this.”
  • but you weren’t about to let kihyun go through this alone. you both had work in the morning, but it didn’t even matter
  • all you could think about was helping kihyun and his son,,,that’s what mattered
  • the third, fourth, fifth night was exactly the same,,,,the fifth night you actually had off in the morning so you told kihyun he could go try to sleep a bit and you’d handle the baby
  • he had stared at you in the small light of the otherwise dark apartment and went “you’re my gue-”
  • “and you’re a father who needs to work to be able to provide, i have off in the morning so ill take this night shift.”
  • you patted his shoulder, smiling and turning to go give your undivided attention to the little one
  • when kihyun’s hand grasped your wrist and he pulled you into a hug tight against his chest
  • you were both exhausted, obvious in the bags forming under your eyes, but kihyun’s hug was still strong and felt absolutely safe
  • “thank you, so so much.”
  • he said into your hair before letting you go
  • he had long disappeared out into the living room, passing out you assumed and you were hushing the whimpering baby in your arms when you thought to yourself
  • isn’t this,,,,what married people do,,,,we’re just friends but,,,,
  • it turned out - you weren’t the only one who thought that
  • when you’d met with wonho and minhyuk on the weekend for lunch, kihyun pushing the stroller while you held the baby and let him play with your finger and hair
  • minhyuk could only whistle before going “looks like i can hear wedding bells, you two look like a whole family!”
  • wonho nodded in agreement, greeting kihyun’s son in your arms with a wave and a smile
  • kihyun looked your way and added “they’ve been staying up with me all these nights too to help”
  • you blushed a bit at his sudden confession, focusing on the baby who was staring at wonho with big eyes
  • “and they say true love is dead, but yet here it is. you guys can even skip dating, just get those rings on your fingers!”
  • minhyuk chuckled and you were sure kihyun was going to brush off his joke until he went
  • “i don’t want to skip the dating though, they deserve to get taken out for dinner before i propose or anything.”
  • turning your head you looked at kihyun with shocked eyes “wha-”
  • “he’s asking you out!” minhyuk grinned
  • kihyun nodded, asking if you were going to be free some time
  • you told him he didn’t have to take you out or anything, you were happy to help him with his son but kihyun explained that no - he wasn’t taking you out as a thank you. but as like,,,a real date,,,,
  • taking the baby from your hands, wonho went “and me and minhyuk can watch this guy while you go out”
  • kihyun snorted, “i wouldn’t trust you - we’d get a nanny-”
  • “he can come”
  • you cut in, smiling at kihyun’s son and then at kihyun
  • “it wouldn’t be a real date without him, you guys are a package deal”
  • kihyun grins “we are, do you accept both of us?”
  • “i do”
  • minhyuk claps his hands and goes “now i pronounce you man and- ow kihyun don’t hit me infront of your own son what kind of example are you setting????”