i can definitely see myself living here in a few months

anonymous asked:

Hey! If you're still taking prompts, could you write about neil and Andrew having a conversation about Neil's past? Like the stuff he had to do to survive and the stuff he went through with the worlds shittiest parents? Also I'm pretty sure neil has killed people like it makes complete sense so maybe andreil talking about that?

There’s a band of pale blue light nipping at the tops of the trees and sharpening the silhouettes of the houses, but everything else is fresh and dark. Andrew smokes with the pack clenched in his fist, the cherry of the cigarette winking at the street lamps winking at the orange moon.

Their front porch isn’t like the rush of the rooftop, but he can get that same jitter of fear from Neil nowadays, and he’s more portable. He’d left him knotted in the bedsheets an hour ago, and knowing he’s inside somewhere at his back is burning him up. Andrew inhales and focuses on the exhale, the way the smoke still tries to hurt him when it should’ve given up. He likes that nicotine doesn’t leave him alone.

Neil slips out the front door and lets the screen door clatter, and Andrew knows that he’s upset before he sits down two steps below Andrew, holding his own head.

He doesn’t ask; just smokes fervently. The moon bobs its head sympathetically, wind catches the smoke and breaks it over Neil’s head like water on rocks.

It occurs to Andrew that Neil isn’t going to start this conversation, because he likes to think things through on his own, solve them wrong, and tell Andrew about his mistakes later. He’s insufferably convinced of his own problem-solving abilities, then obsessed with the mechanism of his own missteps.

“What?” Andrew asks impatiently. He flicks ash from his cigarette and holds it out in front of Neil’s face. Neil sidles through his own tangled thinking for long enough to glance up. He leans forward and sucks the smoke from between Andrew’s fingers.

When he looks away, gusting smoke from his open mouth, he says, “Matt called. We fought.”

You fought,” Andrew guesses.

Neil looks agitated, blue in the choked light, eyes black and furious. “He was being unfair. He keeps trying to tell me what’s right or wrong lately, because he thinks I’ve been— been deprived, like my experiences were outside of humanity, or morality, and it’s so— condescending.”

“You’re only realizing this now? All of the foxes are condescending. It is the only way they can avoid their own failure.”

“This was different,” Neil says, shaking his head. “I can tell when they’re saying things because they want to see my reaction, and this wasn’t that. He meant what he was saying.”

“And what was that?”

Neil goes gagged silent. He shifts backwards up to Andrew’s stair without looking at him, settling into the groove worn into the wood.

“That killing someone makes you a monster. That murder is the worst thing you can do to a person.”

Keep reading

Lana Del Rey: Wild At Heart

Courtney Love: Is this the mysterious Lana Del Rey?

Lana Del Rey: Is this the one and only Courtney Love?

Lana Del Rey: So, we could just talk about whatever… Like those burning palm trees that you had in the ‘Malibu’ video. I didn’t think they were real!

Courtney Love: Back when rock’n’roll had a budget, you mean? Oh my God, Lana, setting palm trees on fire was so fun. You thought they were CGI?

Lana Del Rey: Yeah.

Courtney Love: God, you’re so young. I burned down palm trees. In my day, darling, you used to have to walk to school in the snow. So, since I toured with you, I got kind of obsessed and went down this Lana rabbit hole and became – not like I’m wearing a flower crown, Lana, don’t get ideas – but I absolutely love it. I love it as much as I love PJ Harvey.

Lana Del Rey: That’s amazing because, maybe it’s slightly well documented, but I love everything you do, everything you have done – I couldn’t believe that you came on the tour with me.

Courtney Love: I read that you spend a lot of time mastering and mixing. Is that true on this new record?

Lana Del Rey: Oh my God, yeah, it’s killing me. It’s because I spend so much time with the engineers working on the reverb. Because I actually don’t love a glossy production. If I want a bit of that retro feel, like that spring reverb or that Elvis slap, sometimes if you send it to an outside mixer they might try and dry things up a bit and push them really hard on top of the mix so it sounds really pop. And Born to Die did have a slickness to it, but, in general, I have an aversion to things that sound glossy all over – you have to pick and choose. And some people say, ‘It’s not radio-ready if it isn’t super-shiny from top to bottom.’ But you know this. Whoever mixed your stuff is a genius. Who did it?

Courtney Love: Chris Lord-Alge and Tom Lord-Alge. Kurt was really big on mastering. He sat in every mastering session like a fiend. I never was big on mastering because it’s such a pain in the butt.

Lana Del Rey: It is a pain in the ass.

Courtney Love: I think my very, very favourite song of yours – you’re not gonna like this because it’s early – is ‘Blue Jeans’. I mean, ‘You’re so fresh to death and sick as ca-cancer’? Who does that?

Lana Del Rey: I have to say, that track has this guy Emile Haynie all over it. I remember ‘Blue Jeans’ was more of a Chris Isaak ballad and then I went in with him and it came out sounding the way it does now. I was like, ‘That’s the power of additional production.’ The song was on the radio in the UK, on Radio 1, and I remember thinking, ‘Fuck, that started off as a classical composition riff that I got from my composer friend, Dan Heath.’ It was, like, six chords that I started singing on.

Courtney Love: You have that lyric (on the song), ‘You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip-hop.’ Did you really grow up on hip hop?

Lana Del Rey: I didn’t find any good music until I was right out of high school, and I think that was just because, coming from the north country, we got country, we got NPR, and we got MTV.

Courtney Love: What I hear in your music is that you’ve created the world, you’ve created a persona, and you’ve created this kind of enigma that I never created but if I could go back I would create.

Lana Del Rey: Are you even being serious right now? I don’t even know if your legacy could get any bigger. You’re one of the only people I know whose legacy precedes them. Just the name ‘Courtney Love’ is… You’re big, honey. You’re Hollywood. (laughs) Touring with Courtney Love was, like, an Elizabeth Taylor diamond (for me).

Courtney Love: You know, I met Elizabeth Taylor. I was with Carrie Fisher at Taylor’s Easter party and she was taking six hours to come downstairs.

Lana Del Rey: I love it.

Courtney Love: I looked at Carrie and I said, ‘This is not worth it,’ and Carrie said, ‘Oh, yes it is.’ So we snuck upstairs and, Lana, when you go past the Warhol of Elizabeth Taylor as you’re sneaking up the stairs and it says ‘001’, you start getting goosebumps. And then you see her room and it’s all lavender, like her eyes. And she’s in the bathroom getting her hair done by this guy named José Eber who wears a cowboy hat and has long hair, and I’m like, ‘What am I doing here? I’m not Hollywood royalty.’ And the first words out of her mouth are, like, ‘Fuck you, Carrie, how ya doin’?’ She was so salty but such a goddess at the same time.

Lana Del Rey: She was so salty. The fact that she married Richard Burton twice – and all the stories you hear about those famous, crazy, public brawls – she was just up for it. Up for the trouble.

Courtney Love: You know what, darling? I started real early. I started stalking Andy Warhol before I could even think about it. And you kind of did the same, from my understanding. That ‘I want to make it’ thing. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Lana Del Rey: No, there’s not. There’s nothing wrong with it when you do the rest of it for the right reasons. If music is really in your blood and you don’t want to do anything else and you don’t really care about the money until later. It’s also about the vibe, not to be cliched. And the people. I think we had that in common. It was about wanting to go to shows, wanting to have your own show – living, breathing, eating, all of it.

Courtney Love: Can I ask you about your time in New Jersey? Was that a soul-searching time?

Lana Del Rey: Oh, I don’t even know if I should have said to anyone that I was living in that trailer in New Jersey but, stupidly, I did this interview from the trailer, in 2008.

Courtney Love: I saw it!

Lana Del Rey: It’s cringy, it’s cringy. (laughs)

Courtney Love: You look so cute, though.

Lana Del Rey: I thought I was rockabilly. I was platinum. I thought I had made it in my own way.

Courtney Love: I understand completely.

Lana Del Rey: The one thing I wish I’d done was go to LA instead of New York. I had been playing around for maybe four years, just open mics, and I got a contract with this indie label called 5 Points Records in 2007. They gave me $10,000 and I found this trailer in New Jersey, across the Hudson - Bergen Light Rail. So, I moved there, I finished school and I made that record (Lana Del Ray A.K.A. Lizzy Grant), which was shelved for two and a half years, and then came out for, like, three months. But I was proud of myself. I felt like I had arrived, in my own way. I had my own thought and it was kind of kitschy and I knew it was going to sort of influence what I was doing next. It was definitely a phase. (laughs)

Courtney Love: But you have records about being a ‘Brooklyn Baby’. You can write about New York adeptly and I cannot. I tried to write a song about a tragic girl in New York, going down Bleecker Street – this girl couldn’t afford Bleecker Street, so the song made no sense, right? (laughs) I did my time there, but it chased me away. I couldn’t do it because I wouldn’t go solo. I had to have a band.

Lana Del Rey: I wanted a band so badly. I feel like I wouldn’t have had some of the stage fright I had when I started playing bigger shows if I had a real group and we were in it together. I really wanted that camaraderie. I actually didn’t even find that until a couple of years ago, I would say. I’ve been with my band for six years and they’re great, but I wished I had people – I fantasized about Laurel Canyon.

Courtney Love: I wanted the camaraderie. The alternative bands in my neighbourhood were the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Jane’s Addiction. I knew Perry (Farrell, Jane’s Addiction frontman) and I went to high school for, like, ten seconds with two Peppers and a guy named Romeo Blue who became Lenny Kravitz. I remember being an extra in a Ramones video and he stopped by when he was dating Lisa Bonet from The Cosby Show and it was a big deal.

Lana Del Rey: See? You didn’t really see that in New York. When I got there, The Strokes had had a moment, but that was kind of it. LA has always been the epicenter of music, I feel.

Courtney Love: LA is easier. People have garages. And then as you go up the coast, in Washington and Oregon people have bigger houses and bigger garages, and people have parents. I didn’t have parents, and you – well, you had parents, but you were on your own.

Lana Del Rey: Yeah. You know that song of yours (Awful) that says, ‘Just shut up, you’re only 16’? I think there are different types of people. There are people who heard, ‘What do you know? You’re just a kid,’ and then there are people who got a lot of support from the line, like, ‘Go for it, go for your dreams.’ (laughs) And I think when you don’t have that, you get kind of stuck at a certain age. Randomly, in the last few years, I feel like I’ve grown up. Maybe I’ve just had time to think about everything, process everything. I’ve gotten to move on and think about how it feels now, singing songs I wrote ten years ago. It does feel different. I was almost reliving those feelings on stage until recently. It’s weird listening back to my stuff. Today, I was watching some of your old videos and this footage of you playing a big festival. The crowd was just girls – just young girls for rows and rows. I was reminded of how vast that influence was on teenagers. And – going back to enigma and fame and legacy – you know, those girls who have grown up and girls who are 16 now, they relate to you in the exact same way as they did right when you started. And that’s the power of your craft. You’re one of my favourite writers.

Courtney Love: You’re one of mine, so, checkmate. (laughs)

Lana Del Rey: What you did was the epitome of cool. And there’s a lot of different music going on, but adolescents still know when something comes authentically from somebody’s heart. It might not be the song that sells the most, but when people hear it, they know it. Are you a John Lennon fan?

Courtney Love: When I hear ‘Working Class Hero’, it’s a song I wish to God I could write. I wouldn’t ever cover it. I mean, Marianne Faithfull covered it beautifully, but I would never cover it because I think Marianne did a great job and that’s all that needs to be said.

Lana Del Rey: I felt that way when I covered ‘Chelsea Hotel (#2)’, the Leonard Cohen song, but when I was doing more acoustic shows, I couldn’t not do it.

Courtney Love: I don’t have your range. I’ve tried to sing along to ‘Brooklyn Baby’ and ‘Dark Paradise’ and this new one, ‘Love’. You go high, baby.

Lana Del Rey: I’ve got some good low ones for you. You know what would be good, is that song, ‘Ride’. I don’t sing it in its right octave during the shows because it’s too low for me. But I’ve been thinking about doing something with you for a little while now. Then after we did the Endless Summer tour, we were thinking we should at least write, or we should just do whatever and maybe you could come down to the studio and just see what came out.

Courtney Love: When we were on tour, our pre-show chats were very productive for me.

Lana Del Rey: Me too. That was a real moment of me counting my blessings. I just wanted to stay in every single moment and remember all of it, because it was so amazing.

Courtney Love: Likewise. It was really fun coming into your room. My favourite part of the tour was in Portland, getting you vinyl that I felt you needed. (laughs)

Lana Del Rey: When you left the room, I was just running my hand over all the vinyl like little gems, like, ‘I can’t believe I have these records that Courtney gave to me, it’s so fucking amazing.’ And we were in Portland, too. It felt surreal.

Courtney Love: Yeah, I don’t like going there much but I went there with you. We have this in common, too: we both ran away to Britain. If I could live anywhere in the world, I’d live in London.

Lana Del Rey: If I could live anywhere in the world other than LA, I’d live in London. In the back of my mind, I always feel like I could maybe end up there.

Courtney Love: I know I’m going to end up there. I know what neighbourhood I’m going to end up in, and I know that I want to be on the Thames. I subscribe to this magazine called Country Life which is just real-estate porn and fox hunting. It’s amazing. OK, so, if you weren’t doing you, what would you do?

Lana Del Rey: Do you have a really clear answer for this, for yourself?

Courtney Love: Yeah, I would work with teenage girls. Girls that are in halfway houses.

Lana Del Rey: That’s got you all over it. I’m selfish. I would do something that would put me by the beach. I would be, like, a bad lifeguard. (laughs) I’d come help you on the weekends, though.

Courtney Love: Do you like being in Malibu better than being in town?

Lana Del Rey: I like the idea of it. People don’t always go out to visit you in Malibu. So there’s a lot of alone-time, which is kind of like, hmm. I’m not in indie-rock enclave Silver Lake but I love all the stuff that’s going on around there. I guess I’d have to say I prefer town, but I’ve got my half-time Malibu fantasy.

Courtney Love: The only bad thing that can happen in Malibu really is getting on Etsy and overspending.

Lana Del Rey: Oh my God, woman… (laughs) Tell me about it. Late-night sleepless Etsy binges.

Courtney Love: Regretsy binges. OK, so, lyrically, you have some tropes and one of them is the colour red. Red dresses, scarlet, red nail polish… I kind of want to steal that.

Lana Del Rey: You need to take over that because I think I’ve got to relinquish the red.

Courtney Love: Well, I overuse the word ‘whore’.

Lana Del Rey: You take ‘red’. I’ll trade for ‘whore’. I’m so lucky.

Courtney Love: I love this new song ‘Love’.

Lana Del Rey: Thank you. I love the new song, too. I’m glad it’s the first thing out. It doesn’t sound that retro, but I was listening to a lot of Shangri-Las and wanted to go back to a bigger, more mid-tempo, single-y sound. The last 16 months, things were kind of crazy in the US, and in London when I was there. I was just feeling like I wanted a song that made me feel a little more positive when I sang it. And there’s an album that’s gonna come out in the spring called Lust for Life. I did something I haven’t ever done, which is not that big of a deal, but I have a couple of collabs on this record. Speaking of John Lennon, I have a song with Sean Lennon. Do you know him?

Courtney Love: I do, I like him.

Lana Del Rey: It’s called ‘Tomorrow Never Came’. I don’t know if you’ve ever felt this way, but when I wrote it I felt like it wasn’t really for me. I kept on thinking about who this song was for or who could do it with me, and then I realized that he would be a good person. I didn’t know if I should ask him because I actually have a line in it where I say, ‘I wish we could go back to your country house and put on the radio and listen to our favourite song by Lennon and Yoko.’ I didn’t want him to think I was asking him because I was namechecking them. Actually, I had listened to his records over the years and I did think it was his vibe, so I played it for him and he liked it. He rewrote his verse and had extensive notes, down to the mix. And that was the last thing I did, decision-wise. I haven’t mixed the record, but the fact that ‘Love’ just came out and Sean kind of finished up the record, it felt very meant-to-be. Because that whole concept of peace and love really is in his veins and in his family. Then, I also have Abel Tesfaye, The Weeknd. He is actually on the title track of the record, ‘Lust for Life’. Maybe that’s kind of weird to have a feature on the title track, but I really love that song and we had said for a while that we were gonna do something; I did stuff on his last two records.

Courtney Love: Do you have a singular producer or several producers?

Lana Del Rey: Rick Nowels. He actually did stuff with Stevie Nicks a while ago. He works really well with women. I did the last few records with him. Even with Ultraviolence which I did with Dan Auerbach, I did the record first with Rick, and then I went to Nashville and reworked the sound with Dan. So, yeah, Rick Nowels is amazing, and these two engineers – with all the records that I’ve worked on with Rick, they did a lot of the production as well. You would love these two guys. They’re just super-innovative. I wanted a bit of a sci-fi flair for some of the stuff and they had some really cool production ideas. But yeah, that’s pretty much it. I mean, Max Martin –

Courtney Love: Wait, you wrote with Max Martin? You went to the compound?

Lana Del Rey: Have you been there?

Courtney Love: No. I’ve always wanted to work with Max Martin.

Lana Del Rey: So basically, ‘Lust for Life’ was the first song I wrote for the record, but it was kind of a Rubik’s Cube. I felt like it was a big song but… it wasn’t right. I don’t usually go back and re-edit things that much because the songs end up sort of being what they are, but this one song I kept going back to. I really liked the title. I liked the verse. John Janick was like, ‘Why don’t we just go over and see what Max Martin thinks?’ So, I flew to Sweden and showed him the song. He said that he felt really strongly that the best part was the verse and that he wanted to hear it more than once, so I should think about making it the chorus. So I went back to Rick Nowels’ place the next day and I was like, ‘Let’s try and make the verse the chorus,’ and we did, and it sounded perfect. That’s when I felt like I really wanted to hear Abel sing the chorus, so he came down and rewrote a little bit of it. But then I was feeling like it was missing a little bit of the Shangri-Las element, so I went back for a fourth time and layered it up with harmonies. Now I’m finally happy with it. (laughs) But we should do something. Like, soon.

Courtney Love: I would like that. That would be awesome.

anonymous asked:

What's your opinion on this robot harry?For me it's so annoying he can't even pretend to be excited for his own tour, his social media presence is such a turn off

Well I’m sort of digging myself a grave with this one, but since I haven’t seen a post I can fully agree with, here we go. Disclaimer, I actually study this at uni. I was the Social Media Manager for the planning and putting together of a fashion show, on all platforms. I just handed in last month a 6-months marketing plan that was based around social media promo. So I do have a bit of knowledge in this area. I am by no means an expert, but this is my future field of choice, so I like to think I’m at least educated.

The situation isn’t as black and white as people have put it so far. All I’ve seen is “he’s horrible at engaging with fans” and “he doesn’t own you shit so stop complaining”. The answer is a very big grey area in which Harry’s actual social media presence fits perfectly in my opinion. First of all, there’s two main templates we studied for marketing purposes this year, Gaynor Lea Greenwood’s promotion suggestions (2009) and Burcher (2013)’s Paid, Owned and Earned media concept. Long story short, the first one is your traditional marketing campaign and the second one relies more on social media and advertising on it. Now, I think Harry’s team went for the more traditional approach, and let me explain why.

Harry started distancing himself more and more from twitter and Instagram ever since the hiatus started.Even before, during OTRA and MITAM promo, most of his tweets were promo stuff, lyrics I’m not sure we fully understand even now, charity work, promoting friends or tweeting about holidays/important days or events. His fan interaction has been low for quite a while, and I’m honestly baffled people are acting like this is news. Looking through his Twitter in 2015, there are some tweets to fans, yes, but they’re very sparse.I counted about 12 in 5 months, most of them in September, when Perfect came out, and around the release of MITAM.His tweets were mostly thanks to fans for various awards and nominalisation, promoting the songs/album, some lyrics and, without fail, after every concert he tweeted a thank you for coming.

It felt more personal than what we have now (tho in all honesty, his tour hasn’t started yet and if we eliminate the OTRA tweets it’s already a different story), but Robot Harry has been a thing then, and people were riding along with it instead of condemning it to the extent they do now.But, the thing is, Harry didn’t have the entire burden of engaging with the fanbase like he has now.Louis, Niall and Liam always took turns in taking the lead in replying to fans and interacting with them, which allowed Harry to do his part and everyone was mostly happy.

And yet, I personally don’t feel this frustration many people feel. I think it’s quite interesting actually. A bold move that wouldn’t work for other artist whose career relies on people who live and breathe social media (maybe Beyonce or Adele, but they are in another league). I was very intrigued by Harry’s statement in the Behind the album video, in which he said that there was a time in his life when people knew everything about him, and he didn’t like it.He has been overexposed since 2012, his personal life splashed across tabloids, fake relationship or not.And now he disappeared for a year (and has been retreating into himself for at least 2) and he wrote this mysterious™ album, trying to see if people can listen and understand it without knowing much about the current him. In this context, having an album that surrounds itself in mystery and then doing 4 Q&As on twitter and 3 livestreams sends…extremely contradictory messages. I can, and will fault his team for presenting a dual image of Harry that sometimes makes 0 sense, for handling a lot of things so poorly, and for the entire Carolina mess, but I will say that his social media fits this old school mysterious rockstar image they’re showing of him. I also think his actual reason is very personal and very real, and I respect the fact that he didn’t compromise this choice he made for promo purposes.

His promo relied on more traditional channels. TV and radio appearances, print magazines, and most importantly, the secret gigs. Now, I’m sorry, but I felt entirely more connected to Harry running across London at 8AM in my pyjamas than by any twitter spree he’ll ever do. I never did this before. This reminded me of the stories my dad told me, of queuing up for days in front of the box office so he’d get the tickets when they went on sale. It was very old school and it worked for me. It was a phenomenal experience, something I will never forget. And he did this for us. All profits went to charity, he didn’t do this for money. And while I know this was for a few selected cities and a handful of lucky fans, it was intimate and it was special and I think everyone, regardless if they were there, or vicariously living through pics and videos, felt a connection to Harry. We got emotional on his behalf when he sang with his idol on stage 2 weeks later, you don’t do that for someone you have no connection to.

Now, the actual reason I’m happy with what we’ve got is that it is genuine from my POV. Liam is the perfect candidate for a comparison, since he also took a bit of a break from social media (not as heavy as Harry’s, but he definitely wasn’t as active as Louis or Niall) and his promo is as textbook as it gets. He slowly, but surely increased his activity since January, a few more tweets, a few more pics on Instagram.A big turning point was April when he posted 13 pics on Instagram, compared to 8 in March, 4 in February and 3 in January. His Twitter went through a similar process.Now, the moment he started posting more, I knew his music was gonna be out soon. It’s pure marketing. You start your campaign weeks before the actual launch, it’s only natural. Unless you want to drop it as a surprise, but that’s another discussion. Actually Harry did it too, with the TV ad, but that was ruined by the info getting leaked beforehand and everyone getting pissed off by that so whatevs. Now, Liam is going for the approachable celeb route. Streams, Instagram stories, snapchat, tweeting fans, loads of pics, videos with popular Youtubers. It’s nice and about as well handled as it gets (apart from that weird video release earlier than it should have been and Liam just generally being a bit…odd?off?idk how to explain it, but a lot of people feel the same way from what I’ve seen). It fits with the image Liam is going for, it aims at the right target audience. He’s not trying to enter a new market like Harry is. He’s consolidating his place in the current market from what I’ve seen (and I’ll admit I haven’t followed his promo as closely as Harry’s). Trying to imagine Harry doing this sort of promo doesn’t really work for me.

Niall has been present on and off social media ever since he came back from his trip last year. Literally, if I pull up the calendars people have been making each month, he doesn’t get more than a handful of days without doing something, so it’s unfair to compare him to the others, since he’s always around and posting and doing stuff.

Louis deserves a better team and I won’t have anyone uttering anything else in my presence, and yet somehow, despite Niall’s constant presence and Liam’s textbook engagement, I’ll never feel as connected to them as I feel to Louis. Louis’ tweets are the perfect mixture of absolutely adorable fan service (“our year” 😭😭) and some of the things he’s passionate about (tv shows, fashion, footie/sports). His promo for JHO was….I have no words for it and I’m gonna have a rage fit if I start thinking about it, but his overall persona is charming and endearing when he’s posting things himself. He created a real communication channel between us and him and he knows how to use it when he needs to send a message (warning selfies anyone?Only you?). There’s an actual analysis of Instagram stats that shows he’s the number 1 male account in engagement and overall likes and that doesn’t surprise me one bit. Louis is a smart businessman, he has a loyal fanbase who is here for him through thick and thin.

And on top of everything I said so far, none of them owe us anything outside the promo bubble. Apart from shoots, songs/albums/tours info and official announcements, they do not owe us anything. If they chose to share a picture from their home, that’s their personal space, and while it’s good for PR, amazingly good in a society that thrives from the feeling of knowing everything about everyone (like what’s your fave’s breakfast and how’s their cat is doing), it’s still a part they can choose to keep private and no one should be entitled to ask for more.

Have you seen Adele’s Instagram? It gives you this illusion of closeness to her, with make up free selfies, funny poses and landscape shots. Too bad literally everything is from touring and other official appearances right? There’s one picture of her home, and that’s to celebrate the end of the tour. Harry sort of did the same with the booklet pictures. He allowed you into his personal space in a controlled manner, just like Adele did. Only he did it in a different way. His promo is just different and you have to think a bit outside the box to see that he actually did a lot of things other artists do. Just a bit differently. Was it perfect?Fuck, no. Was it as bad as many people make it look like?Personally, I don’t think so. It was just different and people are entirely justified to see it as a good or a bad thing. I see it mostly as a good thing. Mostly.

3 weeks early

requested: can you also do imagine where y/n is married to shawn and she’s pregnant and she’s on tour with him and before every concert she goes out to fans to give them some tickets 😊 and it’s cute and fluffy ☺ thanks, love you 💖

okay i changed this one just a little bit, it’s not that much but she’s just not on tour with him

NOT LYING I LOVE THIS SO MUCH THE PERSON WHO REQUESTED THIS NEEDS TO REQUEST MORE OFTEN BC I LOVE UR IDEAS TY OKAY CARRY ON WITH READING


-

“guys where’s y/n?” the voice of your probably worried husband could be heard from his dressing room even though he was on the stage doing soundcheck for the show later on. he got no response from his team around him, causing him to worry more. “you left her alone? you guys can’t do that she’s 8 months pregnant!”

you chuckled, knowing he was going to send someone to the dressing room so you could sit in the audience and watch him or something. just so he can see you at all times. ever since you found out you were pregnant, shawn has been almost extra protective. you were surprised you were even allowed at tonight’s show. when you were in the early stages of your pregnancy, you were still allowed to tour with him and go to his shows but once you reached the 6 month mark, you were banned. you had managed to convince him to let you come tonight since it was a show in your hometown, but after a few weeks and a few deals made, he finally let you come. of course, he tried his best to make sure you were never alone just in case you went into labour early which was definitely a possibility. another reason he let you come to tonight’s show was because his family was also going to be attending, and you could stay with them while he was
performing.

“somebody go find-” shawn yelled, walking into his dressing room. “oh you’re here. okay never mind everyone i found her!” he came over to your spot on the leather couch, “how are you two?”

“i’m good,” you said, rubbing your giant belly. “she’s good too. she loves the music, she’s been dancing around in there all day.”

“that’s my girl.” shawn smiled, changing into a black short sleeved dress shirt for his q&a that started in about 45 minutes. “she’s gonna be a dancer one day.”

“you mismatched like all the buttons shawn.” you laughed,
nothing that all the buttons he just did were all in the wrong places. “how do you even do that?” slowly, you managed to get up from the couch to help him redo the buttons. you got as close as your stomach would allow to undo all the buttons as shawn just smirked while watching you intently.

“i’m having some sort of déjà vu,” he said. “last time you did this, that happened.” he pointed to your baby bump.

you rolled your eyes, swatting the side of his arm then quickly doing up the buttons. “you’re an idiot.”

“hey,” he raised his hands up in defence. “i’m just saying the truth.”

“all fixed,” you announced, lighting patting his chest. “what would you do without me?”

he shrugged, taking some food from the table that was set up in every one of his dressing rooms. “i wouldn’t be living y/n, my fans would make fun of me too much for not knowing how to do buttons.”

you laughed, taking a peek out the window to see a giant crowd of fans in the distance. you remembered going out into those crowds when you toured with shawn, you had a tradition of giving away tickets to a few fans who had none. of course, you kept it a secret because you didn’t want people to get greedy but you missed doing that.

“hey shawn?” you called, closing the curtains so fans couldn’t look in. you stood in front of his spot on the couch, wrapping your arms around his neck. he looked up at you, his hands grabbing your sides. “did i ever tell you how insanely attractive you are?” you smiled. you knew that if you wanted him to agree, you would have to do some kissing up.

“you want something don’t you?” he narrowed his eyes, not being able to keep a straight face.

“you don’t happen to have any extra tickets lying around do you?”

“y/n,” he sighed. “you can’t go out in that crowd. it’s too dangerous for you and the baby.”

“shawn i used to give away tickets all the time before! please, i’ll be fine i promise.” you begged. you wanted nothing more than to get some fresh air. after being in this stuffy dressing room all day, you were in desperate need.

“y/n, you could go into labour at anytime now! it’s way to dangerous and if i let you go out there and something happens i will never forgive myself.”

“nothing is going to happen shawn, i’ll be careful i promise. i really need some fresh air, i feel like i’m suffocating in here. if you’re really that scared, come with me.”

“if i come with you we’ll for sure get mobbed. i’ll get you some extra tickets.” he sighed, finally giving in because he knows you wouldn’t have stopped until he did. “but, you’re going out with security standing close by and i’m going to be watching. if i see anything that doesn’t look normal, you need to come in.”

you nodded, taking the tickets he handed you. some people would think shawn was being too demanding and overprotective but you know he’s just looking out for you and the baby.

“i’m not trying to be harsh baby,” he said, kissing your forehead. “i just want you to be safe and protected at all times. if anything were to happen at one of these shows i would never be able to live with myself.”

“i understand shawn, trust me. but i’m going to be okay out there, especially with everyone watching my every move. nothing is going to happen.”

“you could go into labour at anytime y/n, your due date isn’t that far away.” he said, cupping the side of your face with his spare hand.

you were due on april 21st and today’s date was april 2nd, meaning you were almost full term and the baby could come at any time but she would be early. you had the slightest feeling she would be late though, motherly instincts i guess.

“babies aren’t always born early shawn. she could come when she’s supposed to come.”

“y/n,” he chuckled. “how early were
you born?”

“5 weeks early,” you mumbled. “okay i see your point but still, i’m going to be fine you can watch from the window or something.”

he reluctantly handed you one more set of tickets and you were off. “be safe out there!” he called.

“i will!”

you met a security guard at one of the entrances of the arena who allowed you to leave, and another one followed you out. you were happy that he wasn’t right behind you, you needed some space. as soon as the door opened you were relieved that nobody was really paying attention to you. everyone was mostly occupied with their phones or talking to their friends as they waited to get into the arena.

as you walked around for a bit you heard a few mutters of “is that y/n?” or “guys look, it’s y/n.” but thankfully the crowd was calm and hadn’t erupted into screams yet.

you began to feel a large amount of pressure on your stomach which you were used to, but never this intense. you shrugged it off thinking it was just braxton hicks.

you noticed a young girl, probably about 6, and another older teenage girl who looked about 16, and their mom standing further away from the crowd. the two girls were wearing t-shirts with your husband’s face on it, but you had never seen those shirts before. they must not have been official merch shirts. the older girl smiled at you, and you decided to go over and talk to them for a bit.

“hi,” you smiled as you approached them.

“oh wow, hi y/n!” the older girl smiled. “would it be okay if we took a picture?”

you nodded, smiling for a picture with the girl and asking for her name. “i’m alessia, and this is alex.” she said, pointing to her little sister who was standing behind her mom.

“aless, who is this?” her mom stepped in. obviously noticing you were very pregnant, her eyes flickered to your ring finger, obviously looking to see if you were married.

“mom, this is y/n. she’s shawn’s wife, you know that already.” alessia stated like she should already know.

the girls’ mom asked you a few questions about your pregnancy which you were happy to answer. eventually the younger girl came from behind her mothers legs and asked for a picture.

“so,” you started. “are you guys coming to watch the show?”

obviously they just thought you were making casual conversation, but you knew what you were doing.

“no,” alessia sighed. “i wish.”

“i tired my hardest to get them tickets but they were so expensive and money is tight right now.” their mom said. “but they wanted to come stand outside for a bit just incase shawn came outside.”

you sighed, you suggest shawn come outside but you understood why he couldn’t.

“well,” you smiled. “i happen to have some extra tickets if you three would like?”

the two girls nodded eagerly, looking at their mother for permission.

“we could ask you to do this,” she said, shaking her head.

“please,” you handed her three front row tickets. “it’s my gift. take them.” she took the tickets, all three of them thanking you many times.

another sharp pain ran through your body although this time it was more noticeable.

“are you okay?” alessia asked, putting her hand on your arm.

“yeah,” you nodded. “i’m okay. she’s just kicking.” you lied. “anyways, i should probably get going but it was nice meeting you guys. have fun later!”

you met a few more fans, giving them tickets and making them promise they wouldn’t say a word about it. you forgot to tell the first family not to say anything, you really hoped they wouldn’t. as for the pains, they didn’t fade away. in fact, they were getting more intense but you didn’t want to go inside just yet. you were sure everything was fine. the fact that you were in pain was more noticeable now, almost everyone was asking if you were okay. you were sure shawn knew something was going on because at one point even your security guard asked if everything was okay.

you handed the last group of fans some tickets as you felt the sharpest pain followed by a trickle of water going down your leg.

“shit,” you mumbled, noticing that your dress was now soaked with water and there was a small puddle under you. the girls noticed what happened and were definitely all recording you but you didn’t care at this point. you were in too much pain to walk back into the arena and find shawn. you noticed a bunch of people from shawn’s team walking out of the main entrance, followed by your husband. he knew exactly where you were standing so he was at your side immediately. the rest of the team followed close behind, andrew was on the phone with who you hoped was 911 for an ambulance.

“y/n,” shawn said. putting his arm around your shoulder and his other hand on your stomach. “is everything okay?”

“yeah,” you breathed. you assumed you were having a contraction, which would explain the pains you’ve been having all day. “i’m in labour though.”

“what?” shawn practically yelled.

“my water broke,” you motioned to the puddle of water a few feet away. you managed to move a few feet in the time it took for shawn to find you.

“you’re joking.”

“shawn why would i joke about this?”

you felt another contraction hit, while shawn yelled at someone to call an ambulance even though it was already on the way. you could hear the sirens in the distance already.

“holy shit y/n this is really happening!” he exclaimed, kissing the side of your head.

“yeah, 3 weeks early.”

the ambulance pulled up next
to you after a few more
minutes. they helped you onto the gurney and shawn followed behind them.

“let’s go have a baby,” he said as the nurses closed the ambulance doors. “3 weeks early.”

Byun Baekhyun//Psych - Part 5

Originally posted by xehun

Summary: After a month of being broke at college, you finally find a place to stay, but the only con is that there is nine other people you have to share a house with - one in particular who makes it his mission to irritate you at every turn - but they’re hiding something from you. Something big. (1/ 2/ 3/ 4/ 5/ 6/ 7)

Scenario: Werewolf!AU, college!AU, series
Word Count: 4,218

Keep reading

“Kiss Me” Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3,293

Dean Winchester x Reader

Request: Could you do one where you’re not super tomboy but you don’t usually wear “girly things” and to go undercover you have to wear a short black dress, basically what happens is a lot of tight spaces with you and dean and some accidental rubbing against each other here and there and it ends with some good smut where he basically just hikes up the skirt of your dress and you realize how convenient dresses can actually be 

Warnings: Smut, language, lots of sexual tension, unprotected sex


Originally posted by dean-sam-winchesterbros

“There’s no way in hell you’re going.” Dean shakes his head, not even considering the idea of you going on the case with them.

“Come on. You’ve been training me for months now, besides it’s not like we’ll be doing any actual fighting. It’s a goddamn dinner party. All we’ll be doing is socializing and stealing that dumb bracelet.” You argue.

You had been living with Sam and Dean for a few months now. They’ve been training you to be a hunter, but refuse to take you on any actual hunts yet. They keep saying that you just aren’t ready, despite kicking ass in training. Tonight they were supposed to be going to some fancy dinner party/auction at some fancy collector’s house, and you were desperate to go along.

“What if something goes wrong, huh? What are you going to do then?” Dean questions, obviously getting frustrated.

“Then I can be a helpful asset to the team! I know what I’m doing. I’m getting training from the best hunters in the country.” You beg.

“Dean, she has a good point. She’s going to have to start somewhere, and this is probably the best place to do that. The chances of anything going wrong are slim.” Sam defended you.

“What, both of you are going to gang up on me now?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine, you can go. But if you get hurt, I get to tell you that I told you so.”

“Ah!” You say in excitement. “Thank you!”

You’re not sure why Dean is so protective over you. You’re only a few years younger than Sam, not too big of a deal. You can take care of yourself. But ever since you moved in with them, Dean has been overly-protective of you, and honestly, it could be a bit much. You feel like he treats you like a little, helpless girl instead of the woman you are.

“But, those clothes are a no. You’re going to have to wear a dress.” Dean pointed to your outfit.

“I hate dresses. What’s wrong with my clothes?” You frown. You were wearing ripped skinny jeans and a flannel, nothing too fancy, but you wouldn’t consider it ugly. You like your clothing, even if it’s not the girliest.

“There’s nothing wrong with them,” Sam interjected, staring down Dean. “This event is just really fancy and we have to fit in.”

“I don’t even own a dress.” You realize. “Or heels. Or anything fancy, for that matter.”

“Guess you can’t go on the case then.” Dean sighed dramatically.

“You wish, Winchester.” You roll your eyes. “What time is the event?”

“Seven.”

“I’ll be back later.” You glance at the clock, seeing that it was almost one in the afternoon. You definitely had time to run to the mall and grab some stuff before tonight.

-

A few hours later, you returned to the bunker with a few shopping bags in each hand. It had been a successful trip- you managed to find a relatively cute but not expensive dress that had matching heels, and also some earrings.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you carry shopping bags in your life.” Dean commented as you walked past them to go to your room.

“There’s a first for everything, right?” You shoved a couple bags in his arms, making him help you bring them to your room.

“You know, I’m not trying to be mean. I just don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”

“Dean.” You set the bags on your bed, turning around and looking at him in the eye. “You don’t have to act like my big brother. I’m okay. I can take care of myself.”

Dean looks at you, seeming like he wanted to say something, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I’ve got to start getting ready, so…” You trail off, implying that he needed to leave.

“It’s only four. It starts at seven.” He raises his eyebrows.

“Uh, trust me, girls take a long time to get ready. Now, get out.” You laugh, playfully shoving him out the door. He raises his hands in surrender, and closes the door behind him.

You are determined to look good tonight, to go all out. You rarely ever dressed up, hence why you didn’t have any nice clothing. This was probably the last time you’ll ever dress up as well, you hate dresses, so why not make the most of it?

You started out by taking a shower and making sure that you used your favorite body wash that left a good scent on you for hours. You normally only used it for when you were going on a date, but this is a special occasion.

You then blow-dryed your hair and curled it, which was a nice change from your usual ponytail you typically threw it in. Next you applied makeup, which was also a nice change from the bare face you normally sported. You have clear skin and decent eyelashes, so you didn’t think you needed makeup on a day to day basis. Tonight, you were rocking a smoky eye and red lip combo, thanks to the YouTube tutorials you had watched. You attempted to put on fake eyelashes, but they were a complete fail so you just went without them.

The last thing you did was put on your dress. You looked in the mirror and admired yourself once it was on. Man, is that dress sexy. It was a tight, bodycon style that stopped just below your butt, showing off all the right curves of your boy. Paired with the black heels, you looked good.

You were about to grab your purse when you hear a knocking on your door.

“Y/N? It’s almost seven, we’ve got to-“

You interrupt them by opening the door, revealing both Sam and Dean standing there. The reactions of both of their faces are priceless. Sam raised his eyebrows and glanced away, doing his signature nervous gulp. Dean, oh poor Dean, he didn’t know what had hit him. He couldn’t look away. He had never seen you look so… Good.

“You can take a picture if you want.” You tease, walking past them. They both cleared their throats and watched as you walked past them, not moving a muscle.

“You know, boys, we’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on it.” You say.

“Yeah yeah.” Dean mumbled, rushing to get to the impala.

The ride there was uncomfortable, to say the least. You couldn’t sit in the backseat since Dean hadn’t cleaned it, and you didn’t want to get anything on your dress. Sam was entirely too tall to sit back there, and there was no way in hell that Dean was letting either of you drive. So, that left you to be in your current predicament- squished between the both of them in the front seat.

Sam was polite enough to try and scoot over as far to the door as possible, which was nice. You had some room, but you were still basically attached to Dean on the hip. Your thighs were touching and your shoulders were bumping into each other, and no one said a word the entire ride there.

When you finally reached the house, you couldn’t be more happy to get out of that car. You stepped outside of the impala, enjoying the feeling of the warm summer air hitting your skin.

“How are we going to go about this?” You asked them, leaning against the impala. You couldn’t exactly go inside without a plan.

“The bracelet is inside one of the upstairs bedroom, inside the top drawer of one of the dressers. We’ll socialize for a little bit, whatever, and then I’ll excuse myself to the bathroom and go find the bracelet upstairs. You and Sam can keep watch downstairs.” Dean directed.

“Okay, sounds like a plan.” You say. You link arms with the both of them and walk inside the house, which was absolutely beautiful. You’re enchanted by architecture and all of the collections spread about the house. It was something out of a movie.

“Grab a glass of champagne. Fit in.” Dean whispered to you, not looking at you as he waved to a person across the room. You took a glass from the table behind you, taking a small sip as the person Dean waved to came over to the three of you.

“Hello! What brings you guests here today?” The man asks, all smiles. He must be the owner of the house.

“Just very interested in seeing what you have up for auction today, Sir. You have lovely collections.” You tell him, putting your charm on.

“Why, thank you!” He smiles.

“So, why don’t you tell me about some of these pieces? I’d love to know more.” You lie, hoping to keep the man’s interest long enough for Dean to sneak upstairs. It wasn’t exactly the plan, but it would work. You shoot Dean a look, and he gives you a thumbs up, and you can see him dash away upstairs.

“This piece of art work I got from Venice, isn’t it lovely?” He pointed to a painting.

“Yes, it certainly is.” You pretend to admire it.

He keeps on talking, and at some point you zone out. You look back over to where Sam was standing, hoping to see Dean standing there, but he wasn’t back yet. Odd.

You glance over to the other side of the room, and two men in bodyguard suits are talking, grabbing your attention. They keep glancing over to the stairs and over to Sam, and your heart drops. They must be suspicious.

“Excuse me, sir, but I am going to have to get back over to my friend. Thank you so much for telling me about the history of your painting.” You rushed. You didn’t wait for him to respond while you went over to Sam.

“Sam, those men are onto us. I have to go get Dean.” You say from a few feet away so the men don’t think you’re talking to him, so they think you’re just grabbing another glass of champagne.

“I’ll go.”

“No, they are already staring you down. You take one step and they will follow you up there. They haven’t noticed I’m with you yet. I have to go.” You turn around, taking a sip of the champagne.

“Be careful.” Sam whispered, not daring to look at you.

“I will.”

You walk upstairs, making sure the men don’t notice you. They’re still watching Sam, thankfully. When you get up to the top, you see Dean standing in the hallway, closing one of the doors to the rooms.

“Did you get it yet?” You asked, running over to him, which is difficult in heels.

“No, there are so many goddamn rooms in this house, I’ve still got like five more rooms to check.” He says. “Why are you up here?” He questions.

“People are onto us. You need to hurry.”

Just as you say that, you can hear people walking up the stairs. You grab Dean and pull him behind one of the columns, just to where you two were out of sight to anyone walking in the hallway. You admit, the two of you were in a compromising position. He was leaned up against the column and you were pressed up against him, your head against his chest.

He goes to say something, but you press you hand against his mouth and raise a finger to your lips, indicating that he needs to be quiet.

“I don’t see anybody up here. You’re just being paranoid, Seb.” You hear a man’s voice booming from down the hallway. The voices trail away as well as their footsteps, and you peek your head around the corner.

“We’re clear.” You whisper. Your bodies are still pressed together, and Dean looks down at you, you feeling his hot breath against your skin. His eyes are sparkling and his arms are wrapped your waist- you admit, he looked really good.

“We, uh, we need to find the bracelet.” You say nervously, pushing yourself away from him.

“Right. The bracelet.” He nods, following you back into the hallway.

“I haven’t checked this room yet.” Dean points to a door, and you follow him inside. Just like the rest of the house, the room is absolutely beautiful.

You walk over to the dresser, pulling open the top drawer. A shiny bracelet with a blue stone in the center of it was set on top of a pillow, almost begging to be taken.

“This it?” You hold it up to Dean.

“Yes, thank god.” Dean shoves it in his tuxedo pocket.

You footsteps approaching the room, along with the same man’s voice from earlier. Panic fills your chest and you freeze. How are you supposed to explain this if they walk in? You can’t exactly just be like, ‘Hey, yeah we were stealing your jewelry. Excuse us.’

“Dean, kiss me.” You say.

“Wh-“ He begins, but you cut him off by pressing your mouth to his. He kisses you back immediately, sneaking his arms around your waist and bringing you into the same position you were in at the column. The door to the room opens, and you and Dean pull apart.

“Oh, we’re terribly sorry-“ The man apologizes, blush filling his cheeks.

“Yeah, you should be.” Dean snaps, and the door closes. The two men outside start mumbling and then they walk away.

“That was-“ Dean looks at you, an expression you can’t quite read.

“Yeah, fuck, that was close. Good thing I was here to save the day.” You joke.

“Yeah. Close.” He breathes heavily.

“We should leave now. Before someone realizes its missing.” You start to walk out the door. Dean is silent as he follows you back downstairs. Sam has a relieved look on his face when he sees the two of you coming back unharmed.

“I thought you were both screwed when I saw them go upstairs.” Sam says, the three of you walking back to the impala.

“Yeah, we came close to getting caught. They opened the door while we were in the room grabbing it.” You slide into the car, back into your uncomfortable middle seat.

“How’d you manage to get out of that one?” Sam looks shocked. Dean grunts, and sits down to your left to start the car. His hand landing on your thigh doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Said we were looking for the bathroom.” You lie. You’re not sure why you just lied to Sam, but the feeling of Dean’s hand inching up your thigh was not a feeling you ever thought you’d get from Dean. Sure, he’s attractive, but you had never really thought of him that way before… Not until tonight.

The drive back to the bunker was ten times more uncomfortable than the drive there. Dean’s hand never left your thigh, but the minute it would get to the hem your dress, he would bring his hand back down to your knee, repeating the process. Your breath was hitching and you were sure that you were soaking through your underwear. If Sam noticed what was going on, he never said anything. He just kept his eyes focused on the window the entire time.

The minute you got to the bunker, Sam shot out of the car and went to his room, looking uncomfortable. Oh, he knew.

“Y/N, we have to talk…” Dean sets the keys down on the kitchen table.

“Look, it was just purely for business-“

“No, it wasn’t. You felt it, too. And I could tell how turned on you were in the car.” Dean walked up closer to you, pinning you up against the kitchen counter. “Remember earlier today when you told me that I think of you as a little sister?” He fiddled with the hem of your dress.

You nodded, unable to form any words.

“You couldn’t be any further from the truth.”

He smashed his lips against yours, his kiss full of lust and need. He lifts you onto the counter, not breaking the kiss as he lifts your dress up past your hips, revealing your black lace thong.

“This is pretty.” He says, and he brings his head down to your lower area. He takes your thong between his teeth, bringing the lacy material down your legs and onto the floor.

It was the most erotic thing you’d probably ever seen.

Dean starts planting kisses up your legs, starting from your calves and stopping right at your upper thigh.

“Dean, please, stop teasing.” You breathe out, desperate for more.

“Be patient, baby girl.” He mumbled against your skin, and finally his lips pressed to your clit. You moan, the feeling of his tongue on you radiating throughout your body. He enters a finger inside of you, making you moan even louder. You clamp your hand over your mouth, but Dean reached up and moved your hand.

“Don’t. I want to hear you.” He smirked, entering a second finger. With the rate he was going, you weren’t going to last very long.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m going to cum.” You’re a moaning mess, and he picks up his pace. You clench around his fingers, coming around him. Dean removes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, licking them clean.

“You taste so sweet.” He gets up, giving you a deep kiss. You’d never had a man kiss you after eating you out, but man, did it turn you on even more. Or maybe it was just Dean.

You brought your hand to his pants, palming his hard erection through the clothing. He groaned, and you started to fumble with his belt. Sliding it off, you pulled down his pants and his boxers in one motion, leaving his hard member in your hands.

“Damn, Dean.” You commented. He was perfect. He positioned himself with your entrance, and entered himself slowly.

“Fuck,” Dean hisses, throwing his head back in pleasure. He starts to move at a faster pace, the only sounds in the room being both of your moans and skin slapping together.

“I’m going to cum again,” You tell him, the pleasure you’re experiencing being more than any you ever had. The man knows what he’s doing.

“Cum, Y/N, cum on my cock.” Dean says, and this brings you to your second orgasm. The feeling of your walls clenching around him made Dean reach his orgasm as well, his warm spurts filling your insides.

“Holy fuck.” Dean breathes out, pulling out of you. He grabs a towel from the drawer beside you, wiping the two of you off.

“That was…” You trail off, unable to find words.

“You were great.” Dean tosses the towel across the room, it landing right in front of the laundry room. You hop off the kitchen counter, and Dean hands you your thong.

“Sam’s gonna be pissed you just used a nice towel.” You laugh. You slide your underwear back on, and you pull your dress back down your body.

“Worth it.” Dean smiles at you, kissing you once more.

“You know,” you pull away. “Dresses are way more convenient than I remember.”

Can’t Escape Myself [Demon!Finn; Part 1/2]

Requested, #357: “When is a monster not a monster?” “When you love it.” - Demon!Finn (Prompt from here.)

Author Note: So this is a Demon!Finn AU type story. It was inspired somewhat by the way the TV show Charmed was explained. This is my first AU style story and I hope it flows well. It’s really long, like 6000 words long.

There will be a Part Two. And it will have a lot more Demon!Finn, and a lot more…intimacy. ;)


Special shout out to @chasingeverybreakingwave @ratherkissawookiee @running-ropes & @heelturn-timesten for their feedback, support, and inspiration.

Gif from @actofbalor.

@superkixbaybay @heelcharlie @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @valeonmars @pjanina13 @spot-of-bother @bolieve-that @m-a-t-91 @chasingeverybreakingwave @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @heelturn-timesten @imaginingwwesuperstars @running-ropes @wrestlingnoob @daintymissdevitt @nickysmum1909 @ambrosegirlforever @mistressbalor  @balorsdomain  @cosmicswimming  @rollinsbabe @ileana0300  @purgatoryhatesme  @squirrel666 @alexahood21 @bitchesgonnabemad @thegenericluchadora



Arms wide open, I stand alone.
I’m no hero, and I’m not made of stone.
Right or wrong, I can hardly tell.
I’m on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell.

When you met Finn, he had been the definition of a total sweetheart. You’d been at a bar/restaurant with friends, at the bar part, of course. While waiting to order your drink, you’d been smashed into by some random. Finn had been the one to steady you on your feet and ask if you were OK. That had led to chit-chat, then to a conversation, and on to your group sitting with his group to enjoy the night.

He’d been practically bashful when he asked you out on your first date, and equally adorable throughout the occasion.

As you got to know Finn, you found him entirely endearing and enjoyed listening to him tell stories of his life in Ireland and his travels for wrestling. When you spoke about your own life, his gaze never left your face, and he always had questions to ask of you. There was a gentleness to him, from his voice to his eyes to his smile. He made you feel safe, supported, wanted.

The months passed easily, with the two of you seeing each other with every opportunity. Finn traveled for work, but on average, you were together most nights of the week. It alternated between your place and his.

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Black and White (Part 1)

Dean is a mechanic, running an illegal chop shop on the side to pay for his baby brother’s college tuition. Castiel is a local photojournalist who just so happens to catch Dean on film stealing a car.

Dean convinces Cas not to turn him in, and sparks fly.

But what happens when Cas appears to be involved with a rival group? Can Dean trust him at all? Or does Cas already know enough to ruin him?

Word Count: 3250

Warnings: None yet

A/N: Feedback appreciated! This is an AU that’s a little different, so I hope y’all enjoy this one!


There’s nothing left to do for the day, and Dean’s just about to lock up when a woman walks in, walking briskly and looking a little flustered, like most people who’ve just had unexpected car trouble.

“And what can I do for you?” Dean asks, eyeing her as she sets her purse on the counter. Pretty, but a little too upscale for his taste, with her manicured nails and name-brand everything.

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things that 100% definitely happened after the end of call me beep me u can pry these headcanons from my cold dead hands

(call me beep me is an incredible fic by @gajeelredfox that i can’t link to rn bc i’m on mobile but the final update was posted tonight and i’m emo so have this)

-when they go trick or treating, the kids fall in love with keith instantly and are constantly chattering at him and tugging at his arms to show him things. by the end of the night keith is carrying a sleeping child home and lance’s heart is suffering.

-lance and hunk get to celebrate pidges 16th birthday! lance gets pidge a remote control robot car. (“get it? because its like the cliche thing to get a car on ur 16th birthday, but u like robots!” “yes i get it lance thank u.”)

-together, matt and lance make allura and shiro’s life a living hell. they can’t even look at each other without hearing exaggerating kissy noises.

-lance gradually helps keith and muffin warm up to each other and after a while they’re best friends. sometimes she’ll even lick his hand. shiro is pissed. (“i’ve been trying to get them to get along for years!!! and then this little shit comes along and within a couple of months she’s sitting on his lap!!! wtf!)

more under the cut

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anonymous asked:

Are you still taking drabble requests? If so, I'd love to see what happens the first time Isak spends the night at Even's 🤗😍

“Are you sure this is okay?”

Even hardly looks up from where he is climbing up his ladder to his bed, tearing white sheets off the corners and throwing them down. Isak barely dodges being nailed in the face, but life is hard and his boyfriend is a brat.

Even peeks down from the rail-side that prevents him from rolling off the bed in the middle of the night, “What do you mean?”

What does he mean? Was Even not there for the stare-down his father totally gave Isak? Did he not see the way his dad calmly burned a hole through Isak’s very core? Like his son was pure and virginal and at risk of being defiled by Isak? (Which HA. If there was anyone being defiled tonight, it is going to be Isak thankyouverymuch).

“I’m not sure your parents are very cool with me spending the night.”

This looks like news to Even. His eyebrows shoot up, and he tosses a pillow right at Isak’s chest, “They totally are. They love you.”

Yeah love him from afar. Like in the guest room far. Like maybe not even in the apartment far. "Uh-huh.“

Isak takes a sniff of the pillow, “This smells terrible. When was the last time you changed your sheets.”

Another pillow came flying at him.

“Don’t start with me," Sheets and pillows cleared from the lofted bed, Even began his descent down. (and Isak totally isn’t looking at his ass with every step because he is a respectable boy who would never objectify his boyfriend.) "When was the last time I even slept here? That’s like months of sweat and dirt just sitting there in that case.”

Isak dropped the pillow like it burned him, “That’s fucking nasty. Now I have your germs and shit on me.”

Even snorted, crossing the room to give Isak a quick peck on the forehead before moving into the hallway, "Shut up. One, you love the way I smell. Two, that’s not nearly the worst stuff of mine you’ve had on you.“

Isak grinned and turned the corner to follow him out in the hall, "See, but I don’t consider your come-”

A throat clears and Isak wants to crawl into a hole and die a thousand deaths.

Because-

Because.

Because Even’s father is right fucking there. A hulking mass (okay so he’s like 7 ft tall and skinny as fuck, but still) standing in the doorway of what must be a guest bathroom or something. Towels are bunched in his hands and a slow flush is creeping up his neck.

But it’s got nothing on the way Isak is slowly turning purple.

He. Wants. To. Die.

He squeaks, “-come..ing. I’m coming, Even, did you call me? I think you totally just called me and I am… on my way. To you right now.”

Even pops back around the corner to witness Isak’s slow dematerialization.

Eskild’s fucking sex talk has nothing on this moment.

And Even, the absolute fuck, just starts laughing his ass off. Right there in the hallway as Isak and his father awkwardly avoid each other’s gaze. Or rather, Isak doesn’t look up from the ground and who the fuck knows where Even’s father is looking.

Even pats his dad on the shoulder, “Sorry, dad. I guess you didn’t need to hear that.”

“Nope,” he clears his throat and Isak looks up just enough for Even’s father to thrust the folded towels at him, “For when you guys shower. Alone. Or not alone- whatever you guys do. Together in the shower.” He winces and covers his mouth, "I’m going to leave now.“

He turns to the living room and marches the rest of the way out of the hallway.

Even and Isak stand in silence for a few moments.

"Oh my god,” Isak whispers, “I have to leave. I can’t ever come back here.”

“Baby,” Even says, and from the way his lips are twitching, Isak knows he’s trying to hold in laughter, “It’s fine. It’s not like they don’t know that we have sex.”

Isak shushes him, “Knowing and knowing are two different things!”

Even grins.

“Well now they definitely know. So it’s not a big deal,” he slides his arms around Isak’s waist and steers him back towards his room, “I’m going to grab the clean sheets. You stay in here and try not to give my dad a heart attack, alright?”

————-

Later on, when they are both squeezed up top in Even’s bed- squeezed being the fucking main word because Isak is half on top of Even and he still hardly has room to breathe and the round of sex Even insisted on having because its his childhood bed Isak how can we not, involved more bruises of the not fun kind than he’s gotten all year (but also it was pretty hot sex with the wa Even’s hand had to cover Isak’s mouth to keep from making noise)- they rest.

Even is playing with Isak’s damp curls and Isak is tracing mindless patterns alongside Even’s collarbone. “You know my dad really does like you, right?”

Isak winces, “Can we not talk about that right now.”

“We have to.” Even huffs a laugh that Isak can feel with every breath, “He really does though. He never let Sonja stay the night when we were still together. Plus he made up the bathroom for you. That’s basically a stamp of approval.”

“I literally admitted to have having your come on me at one point.”

One point?”

“Fuck you.”

Even laughs, “Yeah he found that hilarious. I heard him and mom talking in the kitchen about it. They love how awkward you are.”

Isak puffs his chest out, “I’m not awkward. I’m literally the farthest thing from awkward.”

“Uh-huh,” Even brushes his hand down Isak’s back, “So cool. But if I promise that they both love you, will you stop freaking out about it? They want you here, Isak. Especially because wherever you are, I am.”

Isak rolls his eyes, “You really are the sappiest fuck-”

A pair of arms tighten around him hard enough to where Isak splutters and cuts off, “Are we good?”

Isak groans, “Yeah, it’s good. I’ll just- neglect to further mention how many times I’ve been acquainted with your dick.”

“I agree with that plan.”

Isak picks his head up from Even’s chest, “Although… my memory is getting pretty hazy. Maybe I should like- reacquaint myself?”

And then Even is laughing and Isak is attempting to shimmy his way downward and all thoughts of parents quickly fade from mind.

Beauty and the Lawyer

* John Laurens x Reader
* Modern Beauty and the Beast AU

    A/N: HERE IT IS! OK so…there’s no beast creature first of all, you’ll see the obvious change I made. This follows the new movie and CONTAINS SOME SPOILERS! If you haven’t seen the new movie then don’t read this yet as some plot points come directly from the new movie. It’s also really fucking long, so yeah. This took me about four days of writing every moment I could and listening to the movie soundtrack on repeat. (At least it’s pretty.) So I hope you guys enjoy!

    Word Count: 9,365 (barely 23 pages…)

    ~~

    “You have a daughter, do you not Mr. L/N?” Henry Laurens asked the man across from him. Henry’s young son, John, sat aside merely watching the exchange.

    “Well yes. She’d be about the same age as your boy.”

    “You know, as a lawyer it’s hard to find a wife but it’s a good thing to have.” Henry mused as he stood and began circling the table, reminding his son of a hawk going in for a swooping kill.

    “What are you saying?” The other man asked.

    “I saved you in that lawsuit and I’m not even sure you were innocent.” Henry said with a soft laugh. “And now you say you can’t afford my prices. So I propose a deal. I’ll give you two years. Pay my fees, if not I’ll get the case reopened. If you haven’t raised the money, then your daughter and my son will be wed.”

    “That’s absurd!” The man shouted in outrage.

    “So was your case.” Henry snapped back. “You were warned that I have high prices. This is the fee.” Henry stopped at his side of the desk. “Go. You have two years.” The two men watched the other man go.

    “Why are you arranging a marriage?” John asked.

    “You know I’m not feeling well. This will be your firm soon. A wife makes a lawyer look more personable. And it’s hard to find one in this line of work.” Henry patted his son’s shoulder. “Come on, I have much more to teach you.”

    Two staffers, Alexander and Lafayette, stood by. “Monsieur Laurens is corrupting his young son. The John we used to know is slipping away.” Lafayette voiced.

    “You wanna stand up to Henry?” Alexander asked. He knew Lafayette was right. John was their friend at one point. It didn’t seem much that way anymore.

    “No, no one does. That’s the problem.”

    You walked through town. Your father would be back from meeting with the lawyer today and you wanted to make him a good dinner. There was a fresh marketplace and you knew your father preferred food from there. It was a bit more expensive but always tasted better. And definitely worth it to welcome your father home.

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    Homesick

    Author: @dylan-trash-tbh and @golddaggers

    Pairing: Dylan O’brien x Reader

    Words: 1829

    A/N: So, I wrote this a week ago and I absolutely hated it. I was about to delete it, honestly .. But my lovely Piggie @golddaggers saved my ass and turned shit into gold. THANK YOU (also for always keeping me company while I’m working the night shift) ! I love you so much 🐷💖🇩🇪🇧🇷 


    MASTERLIST

    Originally posted by welcometohellsxx

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    SugarDaddy!Cal Pt. 19

    A/N: This chapter is long asf you guys, but I’m sure you expected it. The drama in this is to die for lmaoo, but I promised they’d be alright and I’m going to keep that promise. I wouldn’t ruin your little hearts like that. So, remember 100 notes and feedback and I hope you enjoy💕

    At the rate this story gets notes, I’m pretty sure you’re all going to want the last chapter tmr. So, I’m gonna get to finishing that and try not to get upset that it’s over.

    *WARNING**: Just a pinch/ mention of smut, nothing too detailed or serious.


    One/ Two/ Three/ Four/Five/Six/Seven/Eight/
    Nine/Ten/Eleven/Twelve/Thirteen/Fourteen/Fifteen
    Sixteen/ Seventeen/ Eighteen/ Nineteen/Twenty{END}


    You all had been standing there in an eerie silence for what felt like hours after the recording had stopped. Calum was standing there stiffly with no sign of emotion on his face. It was as if the Māori had shut down completely after hearing the news. You were beyond nervous at this because Calum was usually one to let out his anger as soon as he felt it, he never thought about what to do, he kinda of just reacted. Luke on the other hand was praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole instead of Calum getting to him.

    “Mate…you okay?” Ashton was the first to speak as he took cautious steps towards Calum.

    “You…you slept with Y/N?” Calum questioned Luke who now resembled a deer caught in headlights.

    “Calum, I’m so sorry.”

    “You slept with Y/N.” he repeated to himself, almost as if he had to get the words stuck in his brain so that he could believe it.“That’s got to be a joke right, you wouldn’t have…You know how much she means to me.”

    “Calum-”

    “What the fuck, Luke?!” He shouted, knocking over the lamp on the couch side table. The glass shattered the second it hit the floor and you had to keep your thoughts focused on the situation and not how hot you found an angry Calum to be.

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    Tom Holland Imagine: Broken

    Summary: after getting out of a toxic relationship, you meet a very handsome boy on your train. (Loosely based off of both Yes Girl and I Can’t Breathe by Bea Miller)

    A/N: sorry for being gone for so long… writers block kicked in…😤

    Warnings: physical and mental abuse

    ————————————————

    I let out a sigh of relief as the train took off down the tracks. I watched as the town I once knew and loved flew passed me. I wondered what He would do when He came home from work to find me gone. I fidgeted with the strap of my duffle bag before deciding to pull out my book to help the time pass.

    “Hello? Sorry to disturb you, but would you mind if I sat here?” A voice said.

    I shook my head without meeting the stranger’s eye. Yes, I would prefer to be sitting by myself but considering I bought the last ticket for this train, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I heard the stranger let out a heavy sigh as he placed his bag under his seat.

    “Whatcha readin there? If you don’t mind me asking.”

    “Uh, it’s called Ordinary People. By Judith Guest. It’s my favorite book, I’ve read it like 10 times.”

    “Huh, maybe I’ll read it sometime.”

    “Oh you definitely should, its incredible.”

    I finally looked up from my book to see a very handsome boy smiling at me.

    “I’m Tom by the way.” He said as he extended his hand to me.

    “Uh, I’m Y/N.” I said as I shook his hand.

    “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

    I blushed at his compliment and closed my book and looked back up at the him.

    “So what’s bringing you to the city? And by train? Not many people go on these anymore.”

    Tom smiled and looked out the window.

    “Well, I do a lot of traveling. I’m always in the air and so I just wanted to see the trees for a change. And I’m staying in the city, actually. I just felt like I was going insane from only seeing buildings and angry people everywhere I went and I need some time to figure things out so I found the smallest town I could find outside of Atlanta and left for the weekend. What about you?”

    “Uh, that’s a story for another time…”

    “That’s alright. Let it be yours.”

    “Well, your accent gives it away that you don’t live here, so why are you in America?”

    “I’m an actor. Filming a movie.”

    “Oh, I love movies! What movie are you filming?”

    Tom let out a light laugh as he looked down and fiddled with his thumbs.

    “Uh, Spider-Man, actually.”

    “Wait, really!? I love Spider-Man! Are you the guy that plays him in Civil War? I haven’t gotten to see it yet but I want to so bad. See, my boyfri- ex boyfriend wouldn’t let me go see it.”

    I looked down to avoid Tom’s confused face, hoping it would give him the hint to not ask any questions.

    “Well, maybe I can take you to go see it sometime.”

    “Uh, yeah! But if you don’t want to you don’t have to. I’m sure you’ve already seen it like 500 times…”

    “Yeah, but never with a girl as beautiful as you.”

    “Pft, are you kidding me? Have you seen Scarlett Johansson!?”

    Before Tom could reply I heard my phone go off. I reached into my bag to pull it out and felt my heart stop.

    No.

    He wasn’t supposed to be home this early.

    I felt my heart drop to my stomach as I looked at His name written on the screen.

    I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned my phone off before shoving it back in my bag.

    I felt Tom’s gaze on me. I looked up and gave him a weak smile, trying to get him to drop it.

    Luckily, he did.

    —3 months later—

    I laid on the couch, wrapped up in Tom’s arms. We started dating shortly after we met. I didn’t think I would be able to date anyone for while after what happened with Him but, Tom was different. I knew he was different because he cared.

    Unlike Him. I knew He was searching for me. I had been forced to ditch my phone and buy a new one to get Him to stop calling me and leaving hurtful voicemails.

    Now, 3 months later, the thoughts of Him felt like only a distant memory of a childhood nightmare.

    But that quickly changed.

    Tom and I were watching The Way Way Back when it happened.

    First there was the pounding on the door.

    “I’ll get it, love.” Tom sweetly whispered in my ear. He kissed the side of my face and got up from the couch.

    I instantly missed the feeling of his arms around me. I turned my attention back to the film, thinking it was just Harrison who forgot his key again.

    But then I heard it.

    I heard Tom’s angelic voice asking who they were but getting cut off by a punch to the jaw.

    And then His voice calling out my name.

    I sat up immediately and felt my self beginning to hyperventilate.

    But while I was breathing hard, it felt like there was no oxygen in my body at all.

    As His figure walked into the room, I felt myself black out from fear.

    I didn’t even feel Him pick me up by my hair and throw me into the glass coffee table.

    I didn’t even feel the blood begin to fall from my skin from where the glass had cut it open.

    I didn’t even hear Tom scream my name.

    I didn’t hear Tom tackling the guy.

    I didn’t hear Harrison come in and call the police.

    I didn’t hear the ambulance as they asked me questions.

    But I watched all of it.

    I could see everything.

    I could see Tom attacking Him.

    I could see Tom as he stood over me, crying.

    I could see his lips saying words like, “Please say something, love” or “Please don’t leave me” as tears slipped from his eyes.

    I woke up hours later. I looked around and saw Tom sitting to my right, holding my hand tightly as he cried into my side.

    “Tom?” I asked.

    His head whipped up and let out a sigh of relief when he saw me awake. He immediately began to pepper my face with kisses and held me tightly to him.

    “Thank god you’re okay. He’s gone, Y/N. They’ve locked Him up. You never have to worry about Him again. I have you and I will always protect you. I love you, Y/N. So much.”

    And those words, those few words, put every little broken piece in me back together.

    The Joker x Reader -“ELLIS”

    Nothing is ever easy with him, but this time he really crossed the line. If The Joker doesn’t care about anything at all, what is the point of you two being together? Unless…maybe he gives a damn about at least one thing.

    You always drive back to Gotham on lonely, deserted roads, trying to avoid traffic as much as possible.

    “J, we’re close to our cabin, we should stop and spend the night; just me and you, yes?” you smile, attempting to be cheerful and lightening up the mood.

    “I don’t feel like it!” he bitterly replies, keeping his eyes on the road.

    “We’re almost at the turn we have to take to get there. Come on… please?”

    “NO! I told you I don’t feel like it!” he snarls, clenching his fingers on the steering wheel. You place your hand on his thigh, caressing it with your thumb:

    “Baby, it’s not my fault the meeting didn’t go well.”

    He pushes your hand away, still fuming. You look outside the window and take a deep breath, watching the sun going down behind the trees.

    “J, come on, don’t be like this…You know I love you,” you tilt your head towards him, hoping he will change his mind.

    “Right!!” he scoffs with a sour expression on his face.

    “What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, getting restless.

    “It means whatever you want it to mean!” the Joker snaps, quickly glancing your way.“You don’t love me, nobody does!” he hisses, being in such a foul mood he can barely concentrate on driving.

    “Yeah…I wonder why…” you mutter but he heard you and it makes him even more enraged. You start massaging your temples; you really don’t need this after all the stuff that happened lately.

    “J…why did we get married?” you ask, closing your eyes, thinking how much you wish your lives were different.

    “Because we’re idiots, Y/N, that’s why!” he angrily raises his voice, accelerating. “Thank God you had the miscarriage three months ago because the kid would have probably had your attitude. I don’t think I could handle two of you!”

    He hears you sniffle and your voice breaks down when you address him:

    “Why…why do you say such cruel things?” and you start sobbing, deeply hurt by his words. “Stop the car…” you manage to speak through tears. “Stop the car!!!!” you suddenly hit the window with your first and he slams the breaks, unnerved.

    You get out fast, taking your wedding ring off and tossing it in his lap:

    “Here, consider yourself divorced!” you slam the door, frantically wiping your tears. He just grunts, annoyed and screams back at you:
    “Fine! I don’t need you anyway!”

    “I don’t need you either!” you yell, whimpering, feeling so miserable you can’t wait for him to go away.

    “I hope you die in these woods!” The Joker growls, taking off in a frenzy, aggravated.

    “I won’t give you the satisfaction!” you shout, crossing your arms on your tummy, watching him disappear in the distance. You turn around and start walking back towards the hidden unpaved, unmarked road that leads to your cabin. It should be about 10-15 minutes away by foot. You recently passed the spot by car so it shouldn’t be too far. Add about 2 more hours of walking until you reach the destination and you should be there before it gets really dark.

    You walk rather slow, deep in thought; being outdoors does make you feel a little bit better. It takes you more than 2 hours, but you are finally at the hideout. You go inside and turn the lights on, looking through your supplies to see what you could munch on. You decide to make a tea and wrap yourself in a blanket, then head out to the porch so you can enjoy the silence you crave so badly.

    You have your little backpack with you and search inside until you find the ultrasound picture you kept from when it was confirmed you were pregnant. Your eyes get teary again and you kiss the small image, talking to yourself:
    “He only wishes you would have been like me…” you sadly smile and your grieving is interrupted by the sound of tires approaching.

    Oh, no, what is he doing here? you panic, covering your head with the hoodie in a failed effort to calm down.

    He gets out of the car and slams the door as hard as he can, staring you down.

    “W-what are you doing here?” you inquire, shriveling down under your fluffy cover. J walks the stairs up to the porch, barking your way:

    “I wanted to see if you died on your way here this way I can bury you. It would have given me great pleasure.”

    “I’m not sorry to disappoint,” you sneer, still holding the little picture to your chest.

    “What’s that?” The Joker points towards it, even if he already has an idea.

    “Nothing you care about…”, you chew on your words, making an extra effort to keep your composure as you return your treasure to the backpack.

    He takes a seat on the bench that’s the furthest from you, legs up on the railing, trying to light up a cigarette when you unexpectedly rush to yank it out of his hand and toss it to the ground, stepping on it:

    “You quit two years ago!”

    “Give it a rest before you make me mad!” J growls, taking out the full pack of cigarettes but you snatch it from him, breaking and tearing it to pieces, frustrated about everything and taking it on his nasty habit.

    He takes a deep breath, trying not to lose his temper and warns you:

    “Stop your shit, Y/N, you’re pissing me off!”

    You don’t even care and continue:

    “Go back to Gotham, I want to be alone! I don’t want you here, go away!” you shriek through your clenched teeth, heading back inside, trying not to cry.

    “I don’t care about what you want; this is my hideout too!” you hear him grumble and don’t care for the rest since you step inside the bathroom, closing the door. You are so ready for a shower and a bit of sleep to calm down the tension you feel in every muscle of your body.

    15 minutes into it and J parts the curtain to the side, making you jump since you didn’t hear him sneak in.

    “Make room, I want to take a shower too,” he commands, getting inside.

    “Go take a shower in the other bathroom!” you plead, irritated he’s so inconsiderate.

    “I like this one better!” he kind of shoves you to the side, getting under the warm water.

    “Fine, you can have it!” you give up, grabbing your towel and step outside when he tries to snatch you.

    “Where are you going? I wanna wash your hair!” he angrily yells after you, unhappy you’re defiant…again.

    “I already washed it myself!” you slam the door and J continues his tirade, tossing shampoo and body wash bottles around the bathtub in his tantrum.  

    I just need some peace and quiet, why can’t I have that? you think while resting your back against the door for a few seconds, sensing your anxiety is going to reach new levels soon.

    The Joker took his time in there but now he’s finally done. He searches for you inside the cabin but you are not there. He peeks out of the window and notices you are dozing off on the couch to the left side of the porch, covered in blankets. Perfect time to rant some more, you are definitely going to hear about how much you annoyed him today!

    But when he sees you are in a deep sleep, something stops him. The corner of the ultrasound picture sticks out a bit from under your pillow and he slowly pulls it out, glaring at it for a few good minutes before putting it back with a remorseful sigh. He takes a deep breath and grabs more blankets from the pile on the table and covers you with them, keeping just one for himself. J also brings the gun from the car and seats on the chair next to yours, awake all night because he believes a wild animal might creep up on you.

    When the first rays of sunshine pierce through the thick fog, he finally loses the battle and closes his eyes, exhausted. He wakes up three hours later, wrapped in a dozen blankets, not feeling the cold he braved last night anymore; it gets so chilly in these woods after sunset.

    He finds breakfast and hot coffee inside but you are gone again. Probably hiking at your favorite spot, J assumes, munching on a few goodies from his plate. You’ve been away for a while and he decides to search for you, he doesn’t even know why. You aren’t too far, just about a mile away behind the cabin, legs crossed in the grass, reading a magazine under your umbrella and enjoying the warm temperature. You hear him approach and you don’t lift your eyes up. He doesn’t say a word and just imitates your position a few steps away from you.

    “What are you doing?” you coldly question him, not thrilled of his presence.

    “Nothing,” The Joker barely bothers to answer.

    You exhale, turning the page and fighting not to pay attention to his nonsense:

    “You can’t stay in the sun, you know you burn easily,” you grunt, indirectly inviting him to get lost.

    “So? Why do you care? Mind your own business!” and he lets himself go on his back, enjoying the hot sun.

    “You’ll burn badly, go in the shadow,” J distinguishes your low voice urging him to move.

    He ignores your warning and after a few more moments he opens his eyes to see your umbrella by his head, shielding half of his body from the sun and you walking away.

    She’s so obnoxious, I really hate her, is the last thought he has before closing his eyes again and falling asleep shortly after since he’s so tired.

    ************

    You are nowhere to be found. The Joker searched the cabin and around it but you vanished.

    Good, maybe she fell from a cliff and my problems are done, he maliciously grins, relieved and hoping for his wish to come true, but after a few seconds the evil smile freezes on his lips as he notices your backpack is gone. And the small post-it on the fridge he didn’t see before makes him cringe:

    “I’m going back to Gotham.”  

    Crazy woman, walking alone in the woods, J growls, taking the car keys out of his pocket and heading outside.

    *************

    You discern the sound of the engine getting closer and closer and quicken your pace, not understanding why you can’t have a moment to yourself when you are very entitled to it. He passes you by and turns the car sideways, slamming on the breaks, gets out of the car and awaits your arrival, his blue eyes so dark it would make you hesitate on your decision.

    Yet you avoid looking at him and attempt to go around when he rolls his eyes, fed up with your behavior and stomps towards you, lifting you up and slamming you on the hood, making you seat there against your will while you struggle to get down. J is blocking your way, not budging when you struggle to escape.

    “Where are you going, hm? Are you really trying to get on my nerves?” he pins your hands behind your back, watching tears of frustrations forming in your eyes but you are too strong to let him win and swallow your vexation, finally looking at him.

    “I’m walking back to Gotham,” you mutter, defying his blue gaze.

    “It’s a long walk, Doll,” he pushes you up on the hood even more, making sure you can’t move.

    “Why do you care? You don’t care about anything, not even…about…”  and you can’t control yourself anymore and start sobbing, thinking about the mean things he said to you yesterday that hurt you so much. J knows exactly what you are referring to and sucks on his cheeks, gulping, finally speaking up on the subject:

    “I did care about that…”

    You shake your head in denial, whimpering, dismissing his words so he repeats:

    “I did care about that.”

    “N-no you d-didn’t,” you cry harder and The Joker sets your hands free, backing out just a bit so you can slide down towards him.

    “I did, I cared about that,” he insists, rolling up the sleeve on his left arm to point out the huge “ELLIS” tattoo on his forearm. “Why do you think I got the name on my skin and didn’t remove it? I will always keep it, do you hear me? I did care…” his voice breaks a bit and wipes your tears, lifting your chin up, forcing you to look at him again.

    Ellis is the name you two picked for the baby when you found out you were pregnant, fit for a boy or a girl. You were so excited and over the moon you didn’t have patience to wait any longer. But it wasn’t meant to be…

    Since you can’t stop crying and he grows impatient, J yanks you in his arms, hugging you while you want to push him away.

    “I did care…” he continues to whisper in your ear over and over again until he feels your body relaxing and your arms go around his waist, hugging him back really tight. Since you still won’t stop crying, he caresses your hair, tightening his grip on you too. He senses tears menacing to roll down his cheeks but he brushes the awkward feeling away, because it’s not like him to show any weakness. Instead, he chooses to be The Joker and he has to admit to himself it really takes a lot of effort this time around:

    “…Say, Princess, are we still divorced?”

    “U-hum,” you manage to squeal, sobbing on his chest.

    “That’s too bad, I was hoping to get some tonight,” and he kind of sadly smiles when you pinch his side.” Since I’m here and you’re here, can we at least have an affair?”

    “Stop your stupid jokes,” you scold him, sniffling. He kisses your temple and helps you down, regaining his posture, but still holds your hand.

    He seems surprised when you push yourself against his body and make him pay attention to what you have to say:

    “You can lash out at me, but…” and your voice shakes ”…you can’t say anything mean about our poor baby, do you hear me?” There is so much pain and grief in your voice that he has no choice but to nod yes.

    “Don’t ever say anything mean about Ellis… promise?” and you cup his face, waiting for the answer.

    “I promise,” he agrees so fast he shocks himself.

    “Good then, now you are allowed to drive me back to Gotham,” you announce and take your backpack off, going around the car to get in on the passenger’s side. “Did you lock the cabin?”

    “I did,” J reports and can’t help bickering as he starts to drive away:

    Allowed to drive you back, Pumpkin?! Like it’s what, a privilege??!!”

    “Damn right it is!” you raise your voice and look out the window, ignoring the outburst.

    “Pffttt, lucky me…” he grumbles but takes your hand and kisses it. You don’t object and scoot over towards him, silently leaning your head on his shoulder.

    “Hey, Kitten, are we still divorced? Or do you want your ring back? I have it in my jacket.”

    “I guess you’re allowed to give it back to me when we get home,” you decide with an indifferent tone.

    Allowed to give it back??! Like it’s what, a privilege??!” he mocks, taking the turn towards the main road.

    “Damn right it is!” you elbow him and he frowns, aggravated:

    “Pffttt, lucky me…”

    “You are lucky!” you cut him off, lifting your eyebrows with an attitude.

    “Maybe just a little bit…” he admits and it makes you smirk, clenching to his arm even more.

     Also read: MASTERLIST

    http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

    Regret - Part 2

    Originally posted by teeuai

    Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

    Genre: angst, fluff, slight smut

    Pairing: Johnny x Reader, Taeyong x Reader

    Word Count: 1.9k

    Summary: *REQUESTED* You find out that your boyfriend has been cheating on you and you leave him. Almost a year later, he realizes that he hasn’t quite gotten over you and he tries to get you back.

    After seeing Johnny with another woman, your heart broke into millions of pieces. After you left his apartment, you could hardly breathe. You had never experienced a pain quite like this. Four years of your life had been wasted, loving him. Four years of your life had been wasted, trusting him. Had it all been a lie? Were there times in the past that he’d cheated on you or had it just been with her? How many times? For how long?

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    The Most Disturbing Things in John Winchester’s Journal:  A Comprehensive Study.

    @jaredsnuggles made a really incredible post about all mentions of the boys in John Winchester’s journal.  It’s incredibly helpful for writing reference, and filled with genuinely heartwarming moments and an interesting glimpse into John’s POV.

    But as someone who’s pretty infamously critical of John’s parenting skills, what I most noticed was the progressively disturbing way in which the boys were brought up, the responsibilities placed on them, and the way in may have impacted their psyches (performing!Dean, anyone?) 

    So let’s take a look at some of the most blatant examples of the Winchester’s upbringing that would have had the Child Protective Services knocking on most people’s doorsteps, and how it may have influenced the people they’ve become.


    1.  Encouraging violent, illegal, and womanizing behavior:  

    • Dean turns fourteen today. He took off to the movies with a girlfriend. I think her name is Katie. Quite the ladykiller, that kid. Like I was at his age. Hell-raising, foul-mouthed, full of piss and vinegar. Silas had it right: he’s like me. If I’m not careful with him, by the time he’s twenty he’ll have left a trail of kids and arrest warrants all over the country. 

    For some reference, Dean was not “a lady killer” at that age.  He was fourteen at the time, and didn’t even have his first kiss until he was at the boy’s home (where John dropped him) at age sixteen.  
    At fourteen, he was still a child, having a presumably very chaste relationship with another child, seeing as it didn’t even involve the rudimentary making out.

    • Dean turns twenty-one today. I’d buy him a beer if I thought it would be something new. He’s also old enough to buy his own guns now. I tried to raise him right, and looks like I did. He’s a scam artist, a ladies’ man, and an absolutely loyal son. He knows what’s right and doesn’t hesitate to do it. I’m proud of him. Now that he’s hunting on his own I don’t see as much of him, but I know he’s out there. When I call him in on a job, he’s right there every time. I’ve spent the last sixteen years afraid that I was going to screw him up somehow. Maybe now I can forget about that.

    This one is just messed up on multiple levels.  For one thing, there’s a lot of talk about “performing!Dean” within the fandom, and it’s easy to see where that persona comes from:  this, along with his ability to shoot, kill, and protect Sam, is one of the few times John expresses overt pride in Dean.  Of course a child/young man struggling to garner his father’s affection and approval would adopt the most suitable persona possible to do so.

    It’s my opinion that Dean, at his heart, isn’t a “scam artist” or a “ladies’ man:”  he’s a homebody who loves to cook and clean and take care of people, with a lot of traditionally feminine characteristics.  He can also be interpreted as having a lot of internalized same-sex attraction.

    Would John have accepted that?  From what I’ve seen, probably not.  Performing!Dean is just the son John wanted. 

    2.  Age-inappropriate responsibility/obsessive behavior:

    • I took the boys, said good-bye to Missouri, and got the hell out of Lawrence. If I never go back, it’ll be too soon. Not for Dean, though. The first thing he wanted to know was when we would go home. But we don’t have a home anymore, Dean. The sooner you get used to that, the better. We don’t have a home until we find what killed your mother. 

    The fact that it was hammered into Dean’s brain that they didn’t, and would not, have a home for the foreseeable future would have been a tremendous blow to a child’s psyche – particularly when it was just mentioned that he wasn’t speaking or leaving John or Sam’s side less than a month prior.

    • I’ll hunt, and the boys will hunt, and we will find whatever killed Mary and we will send it to Hell. And on the way, we will kill every monster and ghoul and ghost and demon and anything else. My boys will not grow up to experience what I have. They will not lose what I have lost. 

    As always, his intentions are clearly good here, but for some reference, this was 1983.  The same year Mary died.  Dean was four, Sam was an infant, and he’s already decided that they can and will hunt.

    • Took Dean shooting. If he’s big enough to try to comfort me, he’s big enough to start learning the tools of the trade. I only let him fire the .22, but he is a deadeye marksman. My drill sergeant would have taken him over me in a second. Times like this, I sure am proud of my boy. I have a feeling it’ll be different with Sammy. Maybe he’s just too young to show it, but I don’t think he’s got the same kind of killer instinct. 

    There are two disturbing things going on here:  Dean is being taught to kill at age six, and John’s reasoning is the fact that because he’s old enough to serve as emotional provider for a fully grown man, he should be able to.  And also, there’s something about a six-year-old having a “killer instinct” that just sounds incongruous to me.

    This is also one of the few times he expresses genuine pride in Dean.

    • For his seventh birthday, I took Dean shooting again. He wanted to fire one of the big guns—that’s what he called them. I let him shoot the Browning, but I steadied his hands. Sammy wanted me to help him make Dean a card. It was like a normal day, like we were a normal family with a mom who was off shopping or at work or something. Instead of dead. That illusion never lasts. I can’t afford to let it. 
    • Sammy is five today. Thank God. He almost didn’t make it. I could blame Dean, but it’s my fault. There’s enough blame to go around. I missed the kill, and I left Dean watching Sam, and he couldn’t pull the trigger when he needed to. I haven’t taught him well enough. If he is weak like that again, my boys will die.

    The fact that he’s blaming his nine-year-old son for his inability to kill, subconsciously or otherwise, in addition to putting a nine-year-old in a situation where he’d need to kill, is disconcerting to say the least. 

    • Last night, Sammy woke up in the middle of the night telling me he was afraid of the thing in the closet. I went and looked. There was nothing in the closet, but I’ve seen too much not to believe that there could be. So I handed Sammy the .45 and told him the next time he saw the thing in the closet, he knew what to do. I don’t think I’ll win any awards from parenting organizations, but five nights running now Sammy has slept without nightmares. Sometimes a .45 under your pillow is all you need. 

    Sammy is sixteen years old today. God knows he’s got plenty of torments. Now he’s got a driver’s license, too. Doesn’t make much difference. He’s known how to drive since he was nine.

    3.  Neglect:

    • Mary, you know I would never leave the boys with strangers I couldn’t trust. You know that, right? I never would. 

    The fact that he is apparently leaving them with strangers, regardless of whether or not they’re “trustworthy,” when at this point they are still toddlers, is by definition neglectful behavior.

    4.  Paranoia/controlling behavior: 

    • Dean turns five today. I was thinking about where we’re going to be in the fall, because he should start school. Then I realized that I can’t leave him in a school. Anything could happen. Maybe a place that has half-day kindergarten. Maybe that I could do. I know I should. I know he should be able to run around with other kids, who don’t know how to fileld-strip the Browning. Well, Dean doesn’t either, yet. But he’s learning. He’s got a talent for guns. I can see it already. And he’ll need it. 

    I was a homeschooled kid myself, but the fact that John kept Dean isolated and out of academic environments in order to protect him strikes me as paranoid and controlling, as well as bad for Dean’s psyche.  

    He’s also been using guns at around five years old.  I’m not even against guns, but that’s just messed up.

    • Dean turns twenty today. He’s in Ohio somewhere, hasn’t called in a couple of days. Tracking a possible poltergeist. He’s supposed to call in every night. Mission discipline is critical. 
    • Sammy is eighteen years old today. Surprised he didn’t take off. We’re not getting along too well. He hunts when we need him to, but he’s never committed himself the way Dean did. Dean’s never known any other way to live, or if he has, he doesn’t act like it. He’s playing the role he was born to play. Sammy’s the younger brother. He doesn’t know what his role is, even though I can tell him until I’m blue in the face and we’re both ready to kill each other. He’s got one more year of school and then I’m drafting him full-time into the family business. I’ve given him more slack than I ever gave Dean, more than I would have ever gotten from my dad. He needed it. Now he’s a grown man, or almost. Time for him to step into what’s expected of him. Dean never even thought about college. We used to joke about it once in a while. But Sammy still believes he can have a normal life, but they’re both more useful to the world as hunters than … what, lawyers? Dentists? Sammy’s convinced himself that smart kids have to go to college. Part of my job is to convince him that college would be a waste of his smarts. And I gotta hand it to him on the brains front: there’s nothing he can’t find on the computer. I still dig around in actual books, libraries, newspapers. It’s all keystrokes and search words for Sammy. He’s done a good job hiding our trail on all the credit cards. 

    John never leaves an option for Sam or Dean to be anything other than “what’s expected of them.”  He never asks them what they want to do with their life, or considers their opinions valid.  

    This is one of the later entries, so it’s clear John has had a long time to settle himself into his extremist way of thinking, but it’s still disturbing and sad.

    • Sam graduated. He didn’t go to the ceremony. I think he’s still carrying a grudge that it took him an extra year. What do you want me to do, Sammy? Should we have stayed in Lawrence while whatever killed your mother came back for you? Should we have sat around fat, dumb, and happy even though war had been declared? How long would we have lasted that way? 
    • Sam left. I told him that if he was going, it was permanent. I meant it. 

    • Dean turns twenty-four today. I was twenty-four when I married his mother. Sorry, kid. Every boy has to cut the apron strings sometime, and for you it’s not going to be until we kill off a supernatural entity that seriously needs killing. Then we’ll all be free of your mother’s ghost. We’ll be able to live normal lives. But maybe not. Maybe we’ve all been hunters too long now. 

    It’s clear that John didn’t consider his children autonomous adults, and expected them to blindly obey his authority.  He also considers them complicit in his “war,” even though they were both very small children at the time.


    In closing, it’s clear from the other entries that John loves his boys.  But as I’ve pointed out before, you can love someone and still be thoroughly toxic, abusive, and bad for them.  John’s parenting and projection onto Dean is probably the reason why he’s so uncomfortable with his own femininity (and ~possible~ bisexuality), and why he feels so continuously obligated to prove himself as a Scam Artist and Ladies’ Man™.  

    Even Sam, heartbreakingly, has finally internalized the message that he can never be anything other than a hunter, when he clearly at one point wanted to do otherwise.  

    So while John could, and did, have a lot of redeeming qualities, and wound up sacrificing himself for his son’s benefit, I hope this will lay to rest the debate about whether or not he was a good father.

    You Look Cute In My Shirt

    Summary/Prompt: “I may have slept in your shirt while you were gone.”
    Word Count: 1730 words
    Warnings: slight smut (but yeah not really), 
    Pairings: Tyler Seguin x Reader

    Authors Note: So the other one I posted yesterday was  huge hit and so I though why not post another one. I have a part 2 for this already written so if I get enough feedback on this one, I’ll post the second part.

    Originally posted by clarkethesharkmacarthur

    The house on nights like tonight were extremely boring and lonely. A cold breeze shot past me, sending shivers down my spine. Lately the house had been extremely cold and it obviously didn’t help that I walked around it in just a t-shirt and underwear. That is unless I had been accompanied by Tyler , then I would be forced to put on more layers. And I’m not saying I liked that.

    As of right now, Tyler and the team where a 5 hour plane ride away from Dallas, currently finishing up a road trip. Tyler had crept into my room sometime last week during the earlier hours and had let me know that him and the team were leaving for the week, and that they would be back no later than lunch on Thursday, which was tomorrow.

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    Vows

    So, I’ve been seeing an AU called Scandalore started by @forcearama play out on my dashboard all day long and I must say, I LOVE EVERY SINGLE MINUTE OF IT. I love Obitine and so I love this AU to bits. Throughout this whole thing, I’ve been wondering things such as, how much does Korkie knows? Not to mention the implications of Anakin meeting Satine at an earlier age. Did he constantly tease Obiwan about her? Or what about the Mandalore arc in this AU? Perhaps not only was Satine frustrated with the clone wars but the fact her HUSBAND was participating in it, making the fight between the two much more of a big deal. But did I write about any of the above? NOPE. Here, have 1.4k of how these two ended up secretly wed in the first place.


    When Satine starts throwing up in the morning, she dismisses it as her illness of the month. Satine has never been the peak of Mandalorian health. Her immune system has always taken harder hits than most, and it is one of the many reasons her opponents have used against her ascend to leader of the houses.

    But it goes longer than it should, and when she is finally persuaded to see a medical droid, it appears to be something far more drastic.

    “You are pregnant.” The droid announced stoically.

    “Pregnant?” Satine’s heart starts beating wildly.

    The medical droid starts rattling on about the medical definition of being pregnant but the duchess tunes him out. She can’t be pregnant. Not right now. She has just reached a tentative peace among all of Mandalore–she knows there is still pockets of groups who are waiting for any first sign of weakness. A child with a Jedi father would cause a massive scandal. Many willingly overlooked her Jedi protectors, but none would be willing to overlook the fact she conceived a child with one of them. Mandalore’s hatred for Jedi still ran strong in some houses.

    She knows what she must do. She must sacrifice the child for the sake of peace. She knows this, and yet her mind can’t help traveling back to Obiwan. She remembers the time he played with some children in a village they spent a few days in. How his eyes gleamed as he patiently answered each one of their numerous questions. He would be a great father, she knows it.

    She thinks long and hard about the issue, before coming to a conclusion.

    Drawing a deep breath, she wipes the medical droid’s memory before dismissing it from the room. She then reaches for her comm and clicks on the senior padawan’s contact.


    “Sa-satine?” He asks, a bit surprised. He hadn’t expected her to contact him after the dust had settled and she retained her status as rightful Duchess of Mandalore.

    She seemed adamant in the two ceasing contact with one another. It was perhaps for the best, as painful as it was for him. She was a duchess and he a Jedi. Both had duties to uphold, and had no time for attachments to distract them from their goals.

    “Satine, are you alright?” He questions after she doesn’t respond the first time.

    On the outside, she looked relatively fine. No one except her closest confidants would notice her that her hairpiece was slightly crooked and the vacant stare in her eyes.

    “Obiwan, how I wish you were by my side,” Her voice cracked, but she continued on, “Something unexpected has come up, and I am unsure how to proceed.”

    “What is it?” He asked, growing increasingly worried, “Are you being threatened again? I’m sure the Republic wouldn’t mind–”

    “It’s not like that,” She interrupts, shaking her head, “It’s a completely different it’s–I’m pregnant, Obiwan.”

    Oh. OH.

    “with my child?” He asks weakly, collapsing onto his chair in a startled heap.

    “Of course, your child, Obiwan Kenobi,” She says in a scandalized tone, but she smiles gently despite it.

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