i have no clue why these come out so damn small

Theory on the Future Fate of the Blue Lion

 First off, if you haven’t seen the new reboot of Voltron or listened to the SDCC Voltron panel, let me warn you that this post will contain some spoilers so stop reading right now and go watch Voltron. 

Ready? Okay, here we go.

Now I know that ever since season one of Voltron has ended, the growing fandom of Voltron has been producing A LOT of theories of what season two will bring us. And the trailer for season two has only doubled the hype for the upcoming season and for the fan theories. 

The two theories that seem to dominate the Voltron tag are definitely the theory that Keith is either a Galra/Human hybrid or Galra/Altrean hybrid (seriously this theory has pretty much taken control over all Voltron art and fanfiction in the last few weeks) and the second theory is that Shiro will either by killed off like his forgotten 80′s Norwegian brother Sven (rest in peace dear Holgersson) or be captured for long period of time allowing Keith or Allura to take over the Black Lion. (Though this theory begs the question that is Keith has to lead Voltron and pilot the Black Lion to do so does that mean Lance will take over the Red and Allura pilot the Blue? Will Keith have to give Lance his precious red jacket? Will Lance grow a 80′s mullet too? This theory brings up so many questions)

Both these theories are awesome and have pumped up a lot of great material from the fandom so far and will probably continue to do so until season two comes around later this year.

However, there’s been a theory mulling around in my head for a while now and so far, I haven’t really seen any other fan pick up on it. And since I have no one to discuss this with, I’m going to lay it all out right here for you Voltron fandom!

As the title of this post suggest, this theory revolves around the Blue Lion which automatically means a lot of it is going to deal with this guy:


 Why so scared? Not every Voltron theory is filled with angst and- oh fuck, nevermind.

Yes, while the most fandom are biting their nails over the fates of poor alien Keith and the possible death/capture/brainwashing of Tadashi- oh nevermind that’s Sven- I mean Shiro- I’m sitting in my isolated corner of outlandish theories mentally preparing myself over the possible horrendous fate that could possibly await our favorite Blue Paladin.

But “Why?” you, anonymous tumblr user, will ask.What solid clue can be found in season one that could possibly hint that anything bad could happen to Lance and the Blue Lion in the coming seasons?

Well, simple. It all begins with this lines right here:

                 Foreshadowing or too much Film Theorists? Probably the former                                 but who cares, I’m finishing this post.

Even when I first watched the series the first time around, this line always stuck out to me. I know it’s supposed to lead to a snappy argument with Keith to lighten the area on the serious mood of the scene, but it still felt a bit odd.

Then I began to wonder if it might foreshadow to something coming later in the series. Many of the writers of the new Voltron reboot have written stuff for The Last Airbender and Legend of Korra- both series that have been known to plan ahead and leave foreshadowing to future events in small ways so I wouldn’t put it past the team of Voltron to do the same.

So, the question is, will Lance’s mind because fused with a giant ship in the future? Perhaps with with one…..

     Yeah, stop smiling Blue, this theory doesn’t really end well for you.

Of course, since Blue technically already has her own sentiment mind, this couldn’t work unless something were to happen to the Blue Lion that would make her lose the Quintessence, the life form, that allows her to be more than a plain machine….

….Something along the lines of Zarkon destroying one of the lions as a last ditch effort to prevent Voltron from ever being used against him. 

Because damn it if he can’t have his Voltron action figure than nobody should get the Voltron action figure.

But seriously, wouldn’t this be the best plan all together if everything else fails?Why waste all the time and resources trying to steal the lions when he can just destroy one of them and prevent the so-called ultimate weapon from being used against him in the first place? He was doing an okay job of conquering the universe without the Voltron for the last 10,000 years. 

But why the Blue Lion you of little faith ask? If that’s his last ditch plan, then he could destroy any of them to make it work.

Well you’re right- there is no solid evidence to support the idea that it would be the Blue Lion could be destroyed or permanently damaged if these theory plays out. 

But from a writer’s standpoint, if any of the Lions’ were to be killed or damaged, the one that would hit most with the audience probably be Blue.

Look at it this way- who was the lion that the main characters, and we as an audience first met?

                                             Love at first sight.

That’s right. It was Blue. And by all accords, she is the lion that we spend the most time with solo on screen. We get to see more of her personality and grow attached to her at the same time as the main characters to. She is the Lion we, as an audience, have the most emotional attachment to. If anything were to happen to the lions, it would hit the hardest if it happened to Blue. 

And you can bet that the writers did that on purpose.

              How dare they make me feel emotions for this giant robot cat.

So Zarkon destroys Blue to make forming Voltron impossible. Maybe he absorbs her quintessence to make himself more powerful just as he did with that one planet. So her mechanical body may still be somewhat intact, but her lifeform that makes her a living being is gone. She is a lifeless shell. But of course, Lance, her pilot, would share the same Quintessence as Blue. What if, as the ultimate sacrifice, Lance will give up his own Quintessence, his very life force, and fuse with the Blue Lion, thus in a way, becoming the Blue Lion himself?

                                        Oh look Blue! We’re a match!

But, you argue, could this be possible? Making an AI out of memories like with Alfor and the Castle Ship is one thing, but Lance literally becoming the next Blue Lion? Impossible! Nay! Nay!

Don’t worry, I’d be “naying” in disbelief with all of you if I hadn’t realized that we’ve been watching organic beings becoming sentient warships (aka the Robeasts) throughout the entire first season. Haggar and druids have doing this since the very beginning. For example:

This guy

became this asshole

And Haggar’s weird pet lizard

became a digimon I’m pretty sure

Based on this evidence, I’m pretty sure the Lions of Voltron probably all used to be actual organic beings at one point in time before becoming literal weapons to protect the universe.  Haggar and her druids probably rediscovered this same magic to create their own Voltron Lion wannabes.

But if this theory comes true and Lance does sacrifice himself to become the next Blue Lion, then the question is, who would be the next Blue Paladin?

The answer of course, for those who have watched the original series is….

                                Literally fuck anyone who just said Sven. 

Yes Princess Allura. Who else? Blue is literally one of the key colors that represents her in the series. And I don’t think it is just a coincidence that out of all the paladins it was Lance that Allura first saw when she woke up from her 10,000 year long sleep.

I’m going to ride you one day…And not in the way you’re thinking about, pervert.

You would think that the writers would have had Allura fall into Keith’s arms (who was her love interest in the past series) or maybe Shiro’s (since there seems to be some hinting of romance between them), but no, she falls into Lance’s arms, thus already starting the connection between future pilot and lion.

So there you have it folks! I’ve just tossed in my theory for what might happen in the future of the series. Of course, this is all just plain, fun speculation! And whether you agree with it or not, I’d love to hear what you think about it!

Mirror For The Sun - Part 6: Mt. Rushmore

Masterlist  -  Series Masterlist  -  Part 5  -  Part 7

Summary: (Bucky POV) Nat tricks you into leading a road trip with Bucky, Sam and Steve. Her plot is partly to get the boys to travel for fun for once but mostly to get you and Bucky together. You and Bucky, who seemingly despise each other.

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 3692

Author’s Note: Okay team, I love-hate South Dakota. I think that shows in this part. XD I hope you like it anyway. Fun factoid, so far I have been everywhere in this fic that I am taking you all, and by the end there is only one place that I’ll not have described from experience.

Originally posted by wanderluxx

I woke early this morning and made my way to the kitchen, Steve was already up, wolfing down a protein bar and preparing for a run. Not quite ready for conversation and definitely not interested in a run on my first vacation in years, I slipped silently past him onto the elevated deck that wrapped around much of the cabin Y/N had managed to find and rent for us. I have to admit after 14 hours of driving yesterday alone, most of those hours contentious and stressful, this cabin with plenty of room for the four of us to spread out is a much-needed reprieve.

As much as I hate to admit it, Nat knew exactly what she was doing convincing Y/N to map out this trip. She knows exactly how far is too far a drive for one day, when we all need space or when it’s okay to tough it out and share a small hotel. Just now the space and the quiet is a welcome change from the hot, overcrowded amusement park or the busy city streets.

I check my watch and know the sun must be coming up, but looking out from the roughly hewn pine railing, all I see are tall, dark evergreens covering the rippling hills in front of me. I can’t even see another house from here. The morning air is cold on the back of my neck since I’ve tied my hair to calm it, so I flip my hood up over my head and turn with a start when I hear her soft voice. “It’ll warm up soon.”

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s4, breaking the fourth wall, the arg, and gaslighting as literary device

And if the pretentious title didn’t frighten you away, or cause you to immediately unfollow / block me, I offer some thoughts:

Following the cues left by the hot mess s4, it’s reasonable to assert the following (which has been asserted just about non-stop since each of the episodes aired; I am not pretending to be original here):

  • s4 is fucky in a way that seems to call attention to its own fuckyness, especially if you take events and themes of the previous series as guidelines for what to expect / how things work in the world of Sherlock. (A ton of people have done a ton of work on this, but thanks to @antisocial-otaku​ for making it clear how frickin obvious this pattern is, here.)

As much as recent arg developments have been A Ride, I really think we’ve missed the obvious, because it wasn’t nearly as much of a challenge as people were looking for / as the fandom genius hive brain is capable of meeting. I think we’ve been looking too hard.

The puzzle, the thing we are supposed to figure out, is s4 itself. The game is simply this: we are invited to have discernment with regard to what is and what is not possible in the world of BBC Sherlock, and to conclude, as most people did, that much of s4 is, indeed, not compatible with the world of Sherlock. The truth of the narrative is in the subtext, as almost everyone here has argued.

The narrative of s4 is, for the most part, really hard to get hold of, and full of content that blatantly works against everything the show has tried to set up so far. As much as I appreciate attempts to make sense of s4 as is, my mind, like a lot of people’s, recoils when asked to consider (for example) that the people who wrote this:

.

Also wrote this:

.

You’ve all seen the evidence. You’ve all watched The Final Problem and thought–what the hell is this? 

People in this fandom were crying foul from the moment TST ended. I think we were already playing the arg then (if such a thing exists), and we kept playing it all through s4, because we were thinking critically about the episodes, and questioning the reality status of the story with which we were presented.

Up until recently, I would have said, meh, maybe this apparent lack of skill on the part of the showrunners was deliberate, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe they just threw in a ton of excess detail (like Mr. Glowy Skull) because why not? I am not very big on writerly intention. The text I’m presented with, I feel free to interpret however I wish, and this, to me, is the point of s4. It undoes itself. It undoes the text of series 1-3. It invites critique in a whole new way. Regardless of what does or does not happen next, I will always choose to question this narrative, to read against the text, because that reading is more interesting and less infuriating. s4, like mofftiss, lies. 

But.

The part that makes me think the arg is happening right in front of us, and it’s still live: 

This fucking thing.

This “John and Mary really love each other” barf festival video, released on 28 February. (Savage and efficient crit here, by @smoljohnlock​) 

WHY NOW?

I could see, maybe, that video flying as an s4 preview, but we have it released here, now, after…all that, when we know that the picture being presented in it is nowhere near the reality that we got in the narrative.

I don’t want to say it’s a sign. I don’t know, man. I’m tired. We’re all tired. But that video certainly did invite a renewal of the wtf-was-that outrage of s4, didn’t it?

The fourth wall, in my opinion, has already been broken. 

The show has been teaching us how to observe, and not just see, to think critically, and to look for solutions to puzzles, since the beginning. Now it’s turning the function of detective over to us. 

Just like the #sherlocklive game was designed to allow us to practice our puzzle solving on a small scale, so is s4. The entire narrative invites us to sit up, take notice, and say, come on, that can’t be how it really happened.

I’m still not going to predict the future here. The show has broken the fourth wall before, and paid off careful observation, via the “1895″ clues. It might be doing that with the “March 8″ billboard thing. It might not. When I say that the narrative is unfinished, I mean exactly that–it lacks an ending (much like my languishing WiPs…sorry about those, btw). What will happen next? Who knows? None of us. Signs (that’s literal, billboard-type signs) point to something more. 

BUT IS IT ART?

So: we have been presented with not one, but two false narratives. If mofftiss finish their damn story, and offer some sort of explanation for all the fuckery of s4, then we’ll have been told a bunch of lies in-story, about “what happened” to John and Sherlock, and a bunch of extratextual lies, about s4 being finished after three episodes. 

I will always assert, regardless of what happens next, that the in-story lies are there, and believing the textual level of the narrative makes less sense / is less happy making than believing that the story lies. As for the bigger lie, about the length of s4 / the end of this narrative–we’ll see. 

It’s a peculiar choice, this, as modern storytelling goes. Rather than just, you know, tell the story they wanted to tell, about a detective and his blogger, they’re really going the long way round. If the “s4 is fake” reading is confirmed, and there is a plan in place, it’s show-offy. It’s audacious. It’s gaslighting the audience to make a point. It’s putting us through an experience–the textual level content of s4–and asking us to believe something contrary to that experience. 

It’s not…enjoyable? Like with everything else, I think I’ll be left questioning why this way, and not some other way. It is, potentially, fascinating. 

If this is what we think it is, we’ve been playing all along, without even trying.

Tags under the cut.

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Meet Me Inside - Part 4

Part 3 | Masterlist |  Part 5

Relationship: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You really wanted your last year to go without a hitch so you could finally get your Masters degree. But then Professor Barnes walks in to your lecture. And he makes it a whole lot harder to focus.

A/N: So I’ve kinda felt like a whole lotta nothing has happened so far. Is this moving too slowly for you guys?

Warnings: None.

Words: 1399

Originally posted by sebjpeg

Natasha gazes at you, for the umpteenth time this lesson. And you ignore it, for the umpteenth time this lesson. You know she has questions but you’re not sure if you’re ready to answer them just yet.

She finally gives up the wait.

“You’ve been quiet since you left his class, did something happen?” she asks, the amusement trailing through her voice.

“Nope” you reply quietly. She stays silent as Professor Carter goes quiet while opening a link on her presentation. It doesn’t take long before Natasha speaks up as a video begins to play, her voice buzzing with excitement.

“Oh my god, something totally happened, you little shit!” she hisses, staring at you expectantly.

You give in.

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Animal - Jack Maynard Smut

Summary: “So grab me by the neck and don’t you ever let go, mess me up so good until I’m begging for more”

Word Count: 5317

Warnings: Sex, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Swearing

Requested: Yes!

Author’s note: This is the first time I’ve ever written smut, besides that tiny thing in the Conor imagine I posted last night, so please please please let me know how you like it. Also this is the longest imagine I’ve ever posted whoops.

Originally posted by mrs-jack-maynard

 

“You’re going to shatter that fucking thing if you’re not careful.”

You whipped your head around at the sound of your best friend’s voice, having not even realised that your grip on your glass had become worryingly tight. You gave him a sheepish smile as you looked up at Conor’s face, so different to that of his brother’s, and yet with the same piercing eyes that seemed to draw you in every god damn time. “Dunno what you’re on about,” you mumbled as you turned back to where you had been looking before, unsurprised at the lack of change in the scene in front of you.

“Just go and bloody talk to him,” Conor groaned as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders comfortingly. He had watched you and his little brother dance around your feelings for each other for the better part of two years now and he was getting right sick of it. All those secret glances when you thought nobody was looking and avoiding each other when the other had someone of the opposite sex around, it was beyond ridiculous. He had thought that after you and Jack had kissed at the Christmas party last month, that things would finally improve but they hadn’t, your relationship had merely shifted from ‘just friends’ to ‘just friends with benefits’ and as much as he was thankful that you were finally getting laid and working out some of that aggression, he could see how much it was hurting you, and he wasn’t okay with that.

“And cock block the master? I don’t think so,” you scoffed bitterly, your fingers tightening around the base of your glass again. You knew that the situation you had going at the moment wasn’t ideal, but it was Jack.  You had waited so long for him to see you as more than his brother’s best mate and now he did but it was non-exclusive. You knew that you should respect yourself enough to get out but you couldn’t, if this was all that you could have with him, then that was what you would have. It hurt though, being with him between the sheets and then seeing him with pretty girls in the streets.

“Alright that’s enough!” Conor’s voice almost shocked you into dropping your glass, you looked up at him with wide eyes as he pried the glass out from between your fingertips and placed in on the table behind you before offering you his hand. “Come on,” he urges you, wriggling his own fingers teasingly, “You and I are gonna go get a drink, and then we’re gonna go and dance, and you’re gonna forget all about my little brother and his tiny dick,” he smirked at you, making you laugh slightly before placing your hand in his and letting him tug you back towards the bar.

Truthfully, you had often wondered whether you were chasing the wrong Maynard. Conor had been your best friend for the better part of the past three years and you spent a lot of time together. He was handsome and charming and hilarious and sweet when he wanted to be, and you had drunkenly hooked up before so you knew he was a good kisser. Somehow though, you knew it just would be right. Because every single time the thought crossed your mind, you thought of Jack and you just couldn’t fathom being with anyone else.

Conor led you to the opposite side of the bar, far away from where Jack was currently chatting up some pretty blonde with double d’s who would plaster the news of their hook up across twitter/Instagram/snapchat/etc tomorrow. You could never take your eyes off of him, and especially not when he looked as unfairly gorgeous as he did tonight. It wasn’t until his eyes flickered to yours and that signature smirk spread across his face that you looked away, refocusing on your best friend and the alcohol in front of him.

You let out a loud groan when you noticed that Conor had ordered a round of tequila shots each for the both of you. Tequila had always been the one alcohol that would send you under the table, having been your university room mates poison of choice; any other alcohol and you could generally hold your own but Tequila was the one which would have you yelling drunkenly at Jack within the hour. “Conor, really?” you whined at your best friend, “You know Tequila is my weakness, I’ll be all over you in an hour,” you joked, having already accepted your fate as you picked up the shot.

Conor shrugged, “If that’s what happens, then it happens, no regrets,” he winked at you before picking up his own shot, the both of you throwing the shots back before slamming the glasses down on the bar. You grinned at him as you noticed his face twisting into a grimace at the taste of the tequila, knowing full well that he had only chosen the liquor in order to get you drunk. You could already feel yourself lightening up at the alcohol pumping through your veins. “Feel better now?” he asked you as he chugged back the vodka and soda in his hand, obviously keen to rid his mouth of the foul taste.

You let out a small giggle as  you nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss his cheek lightly, “Thank you,” you whispered to him, before holding out your hands, “Come on then!” you said loudly, “Thought you promised me a dance, Maynard?” you grinned at him, your smile growing as he slipped his hands into yours, tugging you into him for a tight hug before pulling you in the direction of the dance floor.

You refused to look behind you to where you could feel Jack’s eyes burning into your backside; if he wanted to use you and then throw you away then fine, he wasn’t the only one who could draw attention on the dance floor, and you were going to make sure of it, besides, was it just you, or was Conor looking particularly good tonight?

-

Across the bar, Jack could barely believe his eyes. You never drank tequila when you went out, you always skipped out on it when the boys organised shots, so why on earth would you down four shots with Conor? And why the hell were you letting him drag you onto the dance floor right now? The only person who you ever dance with when you went out was him, he was the only one who you let put their hands on you.

Had you looked that good when they had gotten there? Had that dress always hugged your frame that fantastically? He gulped down the remainder of his joke and tried focusing on the girl in front of him, she had caught his eye when he’d come up here before, with her large chest and long curvy legs, but the longer he looked at her, the more he noticed the flaws in her appearance. Her eyes were dull and surrounded by too much eyeliner, they didn’t sparkle like yours did, he couldn’t see the emotions flash through them like he did in yours when you would lay in bed with him and tell him stories about from before you’d met him and the boys. Her lips were flat and looked sticky with lip gloss, they weren’t plump and red like yours always seemed to be, even more so after he had been kissing you.

He tried to pay attention to her, tried to focus on the way her lips moved, tried to imagine the way they would wrap around his cock like yours had this morning when he’d had you in the shower, but he merely cringed at the thought of her touching him like that. His eyes flitted over to where he could see you and Conor on the dance floor and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head, rage pumping through his blood stream and making him nearly blind with unadulterated fury.

You had your back to Conor’s chest as you guys danced to the overly loud EDM song which was pumping out of the speakers, your head was thrown back against his shoulder as you giggled at something that he was saying into your ear. Jack had no clue what his brother was saying, but he was pretty sure that whatever it was, wasn’t innocent. He clenched his fists together at his side as he watched Conor’s hands slide down to your hips, knowing god damn well that you didn’t wear proper underwear under that particular dress because of visible panty lines.

He snapped when he saw Conor’s head drop down and press to the crook of your neck, right where Jack knew that special spot was, the one that would drive you absolutely wild when Jack latched onto it. He was ditching the girl and surging across the bar towards the dance floor before he could second guess himself; all he knew was that he needed to get between the two of you before you ended up in Conor’s bed by the end of the night, because you were his.

It was a reasonably small and cosy club that the gang had found themselves in tonight, as opposed to some of the bigger ones that they frequented, so it didn’t take long until Jack was in front of you, and wanting to knock that dumb smirk right off of his older brothers face. You didn’t notice that Jack was there until he was right in front of your face, but as soon as he was, you barely registered that Conor was even there. A smile lit up your entire face that had Jack’s stomach doing backflips, you were so happy all of the time, how on earth could he even consider someone else?

“Jack!” You squealed as you wrapped your arms around his neck tightly, having to stand on your tip toes to wrap them around him properly. You could feel the warmth of him seeping in through your clothes as you buried your face into his neck like you always did. “Conor was just telling me the funniest story!” you giggled as you pulled back, whipping your head around to confirm the story, only to find that Conor was nowhere to be seen, “Hey where’d he go?” you pouted as you turned back to face Jack, only to find he had a peculiar look in his eye that you couldn’t quite decifer.

You also realised for the first time how close you were to him, “What happened to that girl?” You asked him curiously as he pulled you into his body, his arms wrapped tightly around your lower waist, “Looked like you two were really hitting it off,” you commented as your arms wrapped around his neck loosely, one hand tangling in his blonde strands as the other lingered around the hem of his shirt, the very shirt you had torn off of him this time last week.

Jack chuckled slightly as he bent his head down to be closer to you, “Why? Is someone jealous?” he asked, his mouth hot against your ear as his warm breath washed over your neck, making you subconsciously press yourself closer to him. You bit back a moan as he tugged on your ear lobe with his teeth gently before pressing a kiss to the spot behind your ear. He pulled back to gauge your reaction and wasn’t surprised when he noticed you rolling your eyes, despite the deep and dark blush on your face.

He brushed his lips against your jaw bone softly, barely even a whisper of a kiss against your skin, “You know you’re the only girl for me,” he murmured against your skin, dragging his mouth across your jaw and down your neck slowly, occasionally using his teeth to nip at the spots he knew were sure to set you off. He smirked against your skin when he felt your breath hitch, latching his mouth onto the special spot and giving in a particularly hard suck.

You chuckled breathlessly, using the hand that was in his hair to pull him away from you, “Last time I checked, this,” you gestured between the two of you, “was non-exclusive, that’s what you wanted, right?” you asked innocently. You were riling him up and you knew it, for some reason, he was being all weird and possessive and you were gonna revel in it for as long as you possibly could. You let out a squeak when he used his arms around your waist to haul you into him, your hips pressed together tightly as he growled into your ear.

“Don’t pretend that this is just sex, you know it and I know it, so don’t give me that shit,” he hissed against you before sinking his teeth into that special spot and making you throw your head back, your nails digging into the exposed skin of his shoulder as you pressed the whole length of your body against him, feeling his hardness press into your stomach firmly as he rutted against you.

Letting out a frustrated huff, you used your hands to tug his head up harshly, both of you breathing heavily as you looked at each other, his cheeks already red with the arousal that was pressed against your stomach, as well as the dampness that you could feel pooling in between your legs. “So are you just gonna talk shit or are you gonna actually do something about it?” you challenged him with a raised eyebrow. You knew exactly how to bait him, the same way he knew how to drive you insane.

He let out a low growl as he yanked you into him, his hands caged around your face as he kissed you harshly. You moaned into his mouth softly as you gripped his shirt in your hands, nipping at his bottom lip playfully as he kissed you with a bruising intensity. You let out a soft gasp as one of his hands slid from the back of your neck, down to your ass, squeezing you roughly. You felt him smirk against your mouth as your mouth fell open slightly, slipping his tongue in between your lips and deepening the kiss.

There was no denying it, the boy knew how to use his mouth, he was a phenomenal kisser, and was even better at using his mouth on other areas of your body. Right now you weren’t concerned about his mouth though, you were more interested with the rather hard appendage that he was currently grinding into your hip. The boy was hung as hell, and there was no getting around it. Memories of this morning came flashing through you like a flood, the memory of waking up with his head between your thighs making you whimper into his mouth, that boy knew all of you secret spots and was not shy about any of it.

Smirking, he pulled back from you, biting his lip at the sight of you looking up at him with pupils blown wide and lips swollen and bright red, the memory of you looking up at him from between his legs this morning making him swallow back a groan. He pressed his mouth against your ear again, “C’mon, let me take you home, you know I’ll make it worth your while,” he groaned into your ear, sending a sharp surge of pleasure shooting down your spine. Pulling back to see your reaction, he let out a relieved breath of hot air as you nodded quickly, his hand latching onto yours and tugging you behind him as you both made your way out of the sweltering hot club.

The tight grip that he had on your hand did not escape your notice as he pulled you out of the club and into a cab outside, letting out a deep breath as he slumped against the seat on one side. “What in the hell has gotten into you?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest as you turned your body to look at him, furrowing your eyebrows together tightly as you moved your eyes over his physique. You didn’t want to stay on one part too long, otherwise you’d become distracted by the different parts of his body that reminded you how beautiful he was.

You let out a squeak as he wrapped hand around your waist, hauling you over to his side of the cab abruptly and burying his face in the crook of your neck, “Didn’t like it,” he mumbled into your neck, humming contently as your hand reached up to run through his hair softly, your nails scratching against his scalp softly as he nuzzles his nose against the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Didn’t like seeing Conor with his hands all over you,” he mumbled again, lifting his head up to look into your eyes that were wide in shock as you listened to him intently, your heart bashing against his chest. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his mouth pressing against your jaw again as you nodded blindly.

“Yours,” you mumbled hoarsely as his mouth moved down your neck again.

 

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You didn’t remember how you made it from the cab to Jack’s apartment, partly because it happened so fast that you could barely blink, and partly because you had spent most of it with your mouth glued to Jack’s neck. As soon as you crossed the threshold into the apartment, both of your clothes were flying off, leaving a trail behind you both of your heels, Jack’s shirt and belt, with his shoes ending up somewhere near the kitchen. Before you knew it, you were flat on your back on Jack’s extremely plush bed, with Jack kneeling at the bottom of the bed and smirking at you.

Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself up on your elbows on the bed, balancing your weight on them as you cocked your head to the side slightly, “I’m not gonna magically transform into a perfect ten, y’know,” you chuckled softly, “This is as good as it’s gonna get, Maynard” you smirked. He simply shook his head at you before pushing your legs apart, your tight dress moving up and over your hips as he settled his body between your thighs, much like he had this morning.

He kissed a line across the top of your panties as his hands hooked behind your knees and dragged them over his shoulders, opening you up to him. You collapsed onto your back as he placed open mouthed kisses to you through the thin lace of your panties, your hands weaved into his hair as his mouth continued on it’s way down, placing kisses down your upper thighs before switching sides and kissing up the other thigh, just avoiding the place where you needed him the most.

Using his teeth, he dragged down your panties slowly, his nose brushing against you softly and causing you to let out the most pornographic sound you had ever heard in your life. He smirked up at you from between your thighs, discarding your panties behind him as he spread his hands out over your hips, holding you open to him as he physically licked his lips, oh this boy was going to be the absolute death of you.

Starting at your knee, he began placing feather light kisses to your inner thigh, slowly making his way up to the apex of your thighs where you laid bare and ready for him. “Such a good girl for me,” he murmured against your skin, “Always so ready for me,” he mumbled as he dug his fingertips into your hips, hard enough so that you were sure that you’d have matching bruises in the morning.

“Jaaaaack,” you whined, bucking your hips up in an attempt to create some friction, “Hurry U-ohhh,” a moan ripped out of your mouth as he suddenly licked a strip from top to bottom, the tip of his tongue flicking against your clit as he slid one finger inside of you.

You felt the pleasure began to build as he latched his mouth onto your bundle of nerves, sucking and flicking his tongue against your clit as he set a steady rhythm of pumping his finger in and out of you.

You slapped a hand over your mouth as you moaned even louder, your nails digging into his scalp and causing him the hum against you, the vibrations going through you like shock waves. You whined and bucked your hips against his face, desperate to go over that edge, causing him to wrap his arm around your waist to hold you in place as he added another finger into the mix.

Curving his fingers up to brush against that specific spot inside of you, you tugged on his hair harshly, making his smirk against you as he picked up the pace, pumping his fingers into you faster and making sure to press firmly against that spot every single time.

Finally, you could feel the coil of pleasure in your stomach begin to tighten almost painfully, your thighs shaking around his head as you threw your head back, “Oh oh my god, Jack! I-I’m g-gonna, oh! I’m almost there!” You moaned out loudly, trying to buck your hips up. Jack curved his fingers again, focusing on just rubbing against that spot until you were coming like a tidal wave. Your back arched up off of the bed as you fell apart beneath him, riding out the last waves of your orgasm until you were shaking, pushing him back as you tried to catch your breath.

Once you managed to regain your breath, you pushed yourself up again, intent on returning the favour, only to find Jack having already discarded his tight jeans and crawling up towards you. You never got used to seeing him like this, he was big but not too big and perfectly thick, in other words, the boy was hung as hell and you drooled slightly every time you saw him naked.

He crawled up over you, pushing your dress up your body and peeling it over your head as he went, his mouth pressing a line of hot, open mouthed kisses as he went. You didn’t object when he pulled your dress over your head, nor when he unclasped your lace bra and latched his mouth onto your nipple, dragging his teeth over it gently as his hand tended to the other one.

Your hand reached down between you, wrapping around his girth and beginning to pump him up and down. Jack let out a grunt as he grabbed onto your wrist burying his face in your neck as he pulled you off of him; that was different, Jack never said no to a hand job or blowjob. He chuckled against your skin as he brought your hand up beside your head, lacing it with one of his as he brought his head up to look at you. “I’m not gonna last if you put your hands on me,” he chuckled softly, brushing his nose against yours with unfamiliar gentleness as he leaned down to kiss you, dragging the tip of his cock up to rub against your clit, and sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

Biting your lip, you lifted one of your legs to wrap around his hips, you pulled him forward until he was right against you. Smirking, he wrapped his hand around your thigh, hooking the other one around his hips as he entered you in one smooth thrust. Throwing your head back at the feeling of him fully inside of you, you let out a loud moan, arching your back and wriggling your hips in a silent plea for him to move. He seemed to catch on as he braced his hands next to your head in a push up position as he set a quick rhythm straight up.

You dug your nails into his back as you arched into him, dragging them down his taut skin as he attached his mouth to your sweet spot, working on leaving a sizable mark on your neck as he hiked your leg up even higher on his waist, scraping his teeth against your neck as he gave a particularly hard thrust, his fingers digging into your thigh harshly.

“Ugh you’re so fucking tight,” Jack groaned into your ear, his breath hot against your neck as he snapped his hips against you even harder than he had been before. He let out a strangled grunt when you tightened around him, your walls squeezing him tightly as he picked up the pace, his hand wriggling between you two as his thumb pressed against your clit again.

You let out a high pitched moan as he slammed into you, knowing from the way he was quivering inside you, that he was nearing the peak. “Come on, baby, I’m almost there, go over the edge with me,” he grunted in your ear, the wet sound of skin slapping together filling the room, both of you covered in a thin layer of sweat as you bit your lip.

Using a brief lapse in his attention, you flipped him onto his back, arching your spine as the new angle allowed him to slip in just that little bit deeper, pressing harder onto that specific spot inside of you. Bracing yourself with your hands on his chest, you began bouncing up and down, moaning at the new feelings surging through you.

You moved faster, feeling the ball of fire in your stomach coil up even tighter as you picked up the pace, all you needed was that little push, and you’d go off of the edge with him. You let out a loud high pitched scream as his thumb pressed against your clit for the third time, white spots exploding behind your eyes as your second orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. It wasn’t long until Jack was following after you, his hips snapping like pistons into your own until he was letting out a guttural grunt and holding your hips to his as he exploded inside of you.

You collapsed forward onto his chest, covered in sweat and coated in the combined juices of you two as he slowly slipped out of you, softening against your thigh as he wrapped his arms around your tired and clammy body. You rested your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in and out softly as you attempting to recollect yourself. You traced patterns onto his chest with the tip of your nail as you felt his chest still heaving up and down underneath your hand.

You had heard once that, if you have absolutely mind blowing sex (like you’d had just then) then the best thing for you to do, was not talk to the guy afterwards, so as to let him get his bearings back. With that in mind, you crawled out of his arms and made your way into the bathroom to clean up.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, your mind went back to earlier tonight, had he been jealous of you and Conor? If so, why? It had been his idea to keep the arrangement as no strings attached, friends with benefits only. Why was he suddenly being so boyfriend?

That thought remained on your mind as you tugged his thrasher shirt over your head, your favourite of all his shirts, and padded back into his room, expecting to see him zonked out on the bed. You were not expecting to see a fully coherent Jack Maynard sitting up in bed and twirling your panties around in his hands.

Blushing, you hurried over and pulled them out of his grasp, pulling them back up your legs quickly before taking a seat next to him on the bed. He smiled at you dopily, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear gently, “You look beautiful in my shirts,” he mumbled softly, his smile widening when you blushed deeply but leaned into his hand nonetheless.

Biting your lip, you looked up at him again, “Why didn’t you take that girl home with you tonight?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Why does it matter, Y/N?” he asked as he looking down at his lap, remembering when you had been on it fifteen minutes ago. He hadn’t expected you to ask him that, not after you guys had just had the best sex you’d ever had before.

“Because you were totally into her, and then you ditched just to make sure I wasn’t going to hook up with Conor!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation. Jack was a master at avoiding direct questions and had been for as long as you’d known him, it was one of the things that made him so alluring to girls your age.

“Because he’s my brother!” He fired back, his expression twisting into a scowl at your persistence, “You have a club full of guys to choose from and you pick my brother?!” he sneered, crossing his arms across his chest in a huff.

“All I would have done is kiss him, and that shouldn’t even matter to you! You’re the one who chose this arrangement, not me!” you screeched, running a hand through your hair in agitation, “So tell me why you went home with me and not her? Because I’m easy? Because you don’t have to worry about me being a pain the next morning?” you badgered him, knowing that you were getting too worked up but being too far gone to stop it. Your words were spewing out of your mouth at an alarming rate and you couldn’t stop them.

“She wasn’t you, okay?!”

To say you were shocked at his words would have been a vast understatement.

 

He took a deep breath before looking at you again, “She wasn’t you, and the more I looked at her, I compared her to you and realised that I was being a fucking twat to you,” he sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair and making you bite your lip as his biceps tensed slightly. “You deserve the world, Y/N, you deserve a guy like Conor or Oli who can give it to you,” he muttered, avoiding your glance.

You let out a small laugh, unable to believe what was happening, Jack actually wanted you for more than sex.

After unsuccessfully trying to capture his gaze, you crawled into his lap, sitting back on his thighs as you hooked your hands around his jaw, dragging his head up to look at you and almost melting at the vulnerable look in his eyes. “Jack,” you said softly, your thumb rubbing against his jawbone gently, “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, I wouldn’t have agreed to any of this if it were any different,” you giggled. “So if you want to be with me, then I’m right here, but if you don’t, then I’m probably just gonna keep wanting you,” You told him in a soft voice, sure that your own vulnerability was shining through at that moment.

He let out a soft laugh before yanking you forwards and wrapping his arms around you tightly, “How could anyone possibly not want to be with you?” he grinned as he pressed kisses all over your face. You giggled loudly as he rolled you onto your side, tucking the blanket around you as he pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread over your face at the action, so this is what it felt like when the person you wanted, wanted you back.

Supertuned

Ok, so this is a imagine that I’ve had in my head for a while now. Enjoy, My Lovelies. xx

Tag list: @hamartiamacguffin @illisea @thegreatficmaster @lovemesomepie85 @torn-and-frayed

If you want me to add you to my tag list, shoot me through a message and let me know. 

Dean looked up as the Y/C/H hunter walked into the viewing room. Her hair fell loosely around her face, the soft Hollywood curls framing it perfectly. His eyes wandered over her body, the way her jeans hugged her arse perfectly, the black tank she wore that was slightly see through, the deep red bra underneath that showed off some of her best assets. Her silver cross hung down over the top of her breasts, the diamonds shining in the light. Her heels clicked on the polished concrete floor, he glanced down at the ankle boots, that was a new looked. The look was Y/N all over, but a sexed up Y/N. He frowned at the duffels in her hand.

‘Hunt?’

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HIDDEN STARS | PT.1 [M]

pt1 | pt2 | pt3 | pt4 | pt5 | + | (completed)

pairing: jungkook x reader 

genre: angst, smut / idol au

word count: 9,925

description: It started out simple, but when your feelings start to grow for the idol who isn’t allowed to date, things get complicated. 

You could feel the music pulsing around your body as you swayed in time with the beat. There were packs of dancing figures surrounding you, and you suddenly felt the need for a break from the suffocating atmosphere. You wiggled your way through the mob of people until you reached the outside, and took in a relieved breath; but you immediately regret it because your lungs are instantaneously filled with cigarette smoke from the abundance of lounging celebrities.

You had somehow managed to make it into the VIP section of the club that night, probably due to the short red dress that hitched higher and higher up your legs with every movement you made. It was strange, every time you turned your head there was another famous person catching your eye. You weren’t too into celebrity culture, but you couldn’t help but find it kind of surreal seeing all these people that were usually just pictures in a magazine, or pixels on a screen, standing right before your eyes.

You couldn’t stop the fit of coughing that overtook you, as you tried to expel the rancid smoke that had invaded your body. You stumbled forward slightly, as you tried to make your way to the bar for a drink, when you suddenly feel a hand being placed on your back. You whip your head to the side to try and politely ask the stranger to not touch you, but when his face comes into view all of your words are lost.

There was no mistaking his raven black hair that paired with his fiery eyes, which contrasted greatly with his cute bunny-like smile.

Keep reading

What Rises From the Ashes (A Tamlin Ficlette)

**This fic is exploring the Tamarantha headcanon from Tamlin’s perspective*

Summary: Tamlin confesses that he and Amarantha were incompatible mates- and the role that played in destroying him.

Originally posted by willow-s-linda

Thank you to the amazing and wonderful @feyre-archerons-scrapbook // @the-other-sam for beta reading this!!! She’s amazing and, as I always say, you should all be following her!!!!! xoxoxoxoxoxox

All comments loved & cherished!

Contains ACOWAR Spoilers

Keep reading

The Only Exception (Part 7)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,190 (sorry)

Warnings: language, mentions of injury, mentions of trauma, some confrontations, Sam being precious, reader self-reflection, mentions of threats, creepy emails

A/N: Guess who’s back…back again…Reader decides to take control of her life and do what she thinks is best. I really liked this part. That’s probably why I went a little crazy.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

Originally posted by a-small-independent-princess

Keep reading

Be Quiet

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Yoongi (Suga)

Rating: NC-17 (warning: light choking) 

Word Count: 1,746

Summary:  You and Yoongi have been fighting. Days of passive aggression and pointed comments - all of which come to a head during the rather timely dinner party you’re throwing for your friends. 

“You have to be quiet,” he smiles, gaze finding yours in the mirror.

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

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JILY CHALLENGE | @howlingremus​ vs @queensaphrodite
         lonely hearts club (marina and the diamonds) + muggle librarian!au

for my amazing partner, @queensaphrodite! and for elena (@meraudurs) and nai (@hiddenpolkadots​), for inspiring me to write and create (and for helping me edit this <3)

The library closes far too early, in her opinion. Sure, it closes at eight, and sure, maybe she ought to try just showing up earlier, but in her defense, it isn’t solely her fault. She only gets off work at five, and there are just so many books to read. How are three hours anywhere near enough?

She frequents the place almost every day, knows it like the back of her hand. But there’s something off about it today. Maybe it’s the fact that the historical fiction section switched places with the biography section, but that was last week.

Lily grabs her books and walks up to the counter to ask Peggy whether or not there’s a copy of Everything, Everything available and oh shit that’s what’s different.

There’s a different librarian - a bloke - at the desk, with hair too messy to be legal, glasses too outdated to be unintentionally bought, and a shirt too wrinkled to ever have come in contact with an iron. He’s the kind of fellow who’d be perfect as the main character as one of the books Lily wants to check out - maybe a Peter Pan or a Percy Jackson kind of fellow.

Lily blinks.

Well, fuck.

He looks up from fiddling with the cuffs of his button-down, meets her gaze for a moment, and cocks an eyebrow.

“You’re the first person under forty I’ve seen so far.” His voice almost seems to echo, and it’s much louder than most librarians tend to be.

Lily can’t even tell if he’s being dense or just kind of cocky, but she’ll place her bet on the latter. It’s clear as day in the way he holds himself - self-assured, unashamed, even a bit arrogant but still good-natured.

She crosses her arms. “That’s not true, and you know it. You’re literally right next to the freaking children’s section.”

The bloke laughs, a sound almost out of place in this quiet library. She owes herself twenty dollars.

“Check and mate, I guess. But then again, it’s not like I can really see them.” He taps his glasses with a ridiculously long finger. “They’re getting smaller every day, I swear.”

Lily even smiles at that for a second, before stuffing it back where it came from. This arrogant, loud-mouthed (they’re in a fucking library, has he no sense of volume?), far-too-handsome idiot has no place in this library of hers.

(All the same, she wouldn’t mind reading about someone like him.)

“Yeah, sure” she says, quickly, trying to get to the point. “Listen, do you guys have another copy of Everything, Everything?”

He shrugs. “Hell if I know.”

Lily is done with this bloke. She makes her way around the desk to where he’s sitting, pushes away his chair (“Oi, what d’ya think you’re doing?” but he doesn’t sound particularly annoyed, just curious), opens up the catalog page on the monitor in front of him (the first thing she sees when she opens it up is a March Madness bracket - she now kind-of-sort-of-really wants to punch the guy), and soundlessly types in the words Everything, Everything.

No more copies available, but there’s one currently on hold. And it’s not hers. Damnit.

The guy standing behind her takes a look at her screen, and she can hear him let out a breath. “Oh, shit, that book? Isn’t that the one with like the mysterious guy and the girl who’s supposed to be sick but - “

Lily hastily shoves out her hand, as if to slap it over his rambling mouth. “No spoilers!” she all but yells. And she realizes that she’s being such a hypocrite right now, so she adds, a little bit more quietly, “Please.”

The bloke smirks, like he knows exactly what she’s thinking. “Alright, then.” He peers over at the screen once more, and Lily presses the power button. She gets up, and moves over to the side of the desk that she ought to be on.

“Well,” she says curtly, trying not to smile (for some reason) at this endearing annoying stranger. “Thanks.”

He grins at her. “Don’t mention it.”

Suddenly, something occurs to Lily. “Hold on,” she says slowly. “You’ve read this book?”

For some reason, the bloke turns red. “Er - um, no? I got it for my friend…Marlene? And like I read the summary on the back -”

Lily smirks. “Liar. You’ve totally read it.”

If possible, he turns even redder - it’s quite a funny sight. “I was bored, alright? And it was lying around - I really had bought it for Marlene - and I…may have skimmed it?”

Lily laughs and tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear.  “Why are you acting so defensive? It’s just a book, relax.”

“Well, it’s not as good as the Percy Jackson series.” Besides the point, but Lily can’t deny that it’s true.

“Fair,” she admits.

She notices a watch on his hand (it looks extraordinarily beat-up, made of old leather and a face of cracked glass), and checks the time. Crap, the library closes in a few minutes. “I really should be going,” she says, making sure she has all the books she wants before turning around.

(She’s not sure if she’s imagining it, but the librarian’s face seems to fall slightly.)

Just as Lily’s about to head back, she hears a quiet “Wait.” She turns around.

“What is it?”

“Er.” The librarian looks…pretty sheepish, and he rubs the back of his neck. “What - what does it say on your shirt?”

Lily almost rolls her eyes, and she pulls back the cardigan she’s wearing.

I left my heart in a book,” the guy reads. He looks back up at her.

“Is that, like, for a book club or something?”

Lily stares at him in confusion. “Sorry?”

“The shirt - you must’ve got it from some sort of club.”

“I…got it from Macy’s? So no, not a book club.”

He looks quizzically at her. “You know, you should probably make that shirt a book club, then.”

Lily raises an eyebrow. “For hearts in books?”

“Yeah, something like that. Like, aggressive bibliophiles or something.”

She perches herself on the desk, her legs starting to get tired of standing, and almost ends up knocking over a stapler. “Who’d join?”

“I would.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, and I’d grab some friends, too. Get some drinks, maybe some fries, and master the art of abandoning our poor, forsaken hearts in some dusty old books.”

Lily actually lets out a laugh. “I - don’t think that’s what it means.”

“But wouldn’t that be more dramatic?”

Come to think of it, it would be. Lily tries to envision it, but the only thing that really comes to mind is some sort of cult with an obsession for Bram Stoker and Mary Shelley. And they, of course, take their fries with a small cup of blood.

Anyways. She shrugs, and gets off the desk. “You do have a flair for the dramatics, then. Say, who the hell are you?”

His hands fly up to his hair - for what, to make it even messier? - and ends up almost knocking his glasses off the bridge of his nose.

“Stop giggling, bloody hell. And it’s James.”

Against her better judgement (sod it all, rational thought), she reaches over and pushes up his glasses. His hazel eyes follow her fingers, and he looks a little bit cross-eyed. It’s all a little bit sweet.

“James, is it? Well, I’m Lily, founder of the Hearts in Books Club.” The bloke - James, now - snorts at that, only causing to Lily to giggle even more.

James looks down at his watch . “I think the library closes right about now, you’d best be off.”

Lily swears under her breath, and James raises an eyebrow.

“Now, what was that?” The accent he’s putting on sounds a bit like some old-fashioned English professor, which kind of goes with the button-down, but not with the hair. “You do know you’re near the children’s section, next to so many impressionable young minds - you wouldn’t want to give them the wrong idea -”

“Oh, sod off,” she says, but not before glancing over to see if there’s anyone under the age of ten watching them. She checks to see if she still has all her books, and actually turns to leave.

“See you, Jimmy.” She smirks.

“OI, WATCH IT!”

~

Once she turns the corner, she can’t stop smiling. And even once she gets home and picks up her books and tries to - tries to lose her heart in them, damnit, she can’t stop thinking of James and the Hearts in Books Club and that damn hair.

Fuck, she thinks.

~

Lily returns to the library the next day, of course - she needs to pick up the sequel to Six of Crows, the novel she just finished.

(And she may or may not want to see if James is there.)

(He isn’t. Peggy is back, and though she loves Peggy, she’s a bit disappointed.)

(What is wrong with me, she thinks.)

After finding Crooked Kingdom, finally, she traipses over to the holds section. As far as she remembers, she doesn’t have anything on hold, but it’s always good to check.

There’s a book in her slot.

Furrowing her brows, she reaches up (and, quite embarrassingly, has to get up her tippy-toes; damn her lack of height), and grabs it. It’s hardcover, feels pretty new, and strangely enough, it doesn’t have that clear library binding around it.

The cover reads Everything, Everything. It’s the book she wanted yesterday - the one that the library shouldn’t have an available copy of. Confused, Lily opens the front cover, and the first thing she sees is a little note on a yellow Post-It, scribbled in Sharpie.

Lily,

Can this be the first book of the Hearts in Books Club?

See you Thursdays and Tuesdays.

- James.

There’s a little smiley face doodled next to her name, and Lily feels a strange, swooping feeling that she normally only feels at the end of a really good book.

And oh, fuck, she can’t stop grinning.

(But maybe, when she gets home, it’s something more than the book itself - something having to do with the note on the inside front cover - that prompts her to read it over and over again).

(Maybe. Just maybe).

anonymous asked:

Maybe a prompt where Link is noticing the little things Sidons body does? Like a Zoda sneeze (if they even sneeze???) comes out his gills, or the first time he notices his tail wag, or the shark-based Zoe's grunts Sidon makes? 0; Love your writing so much, much love your way <333

First of all, thank you so much!!!

Secondly: Z O R A S N E E Z E S

God I love it when you guys make me think about anatomy on these guys. There will be a lot of Link and Sidon noticing small things about each other in my main fic but this scene was too cute. Thank you for the adorable prompt! 


With the flowers in bloom, Hyrule looked as if it had been born again, basking in rays of every color known to the eye. For Link, it was a little slice of heaven.

For Sidon, well…Link didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of the possibility, but he didn’t think that Zora could possibly have allergies.

He also didn’t realize that they could sneeze.

It was kind of funny though, while Hylian allergies were completely related to sinuses and runny noses, Sidon’s allergies seemed to be triggered purely by proximity and left him scratching at his sides, the insides of his gills looking a little irritated.

“I’m so sorry, Link, I do enjoy the view, truly. It’s just the pollen for some reason is irritating me,” Sidon apologized again, sniffling. While his face scrunched up just like a Hylian’s would when he did so, his flexed outward while the ends curled around the openings to protect his lungs from any more pollen that could seep through. It really was fascinating to think about; Link was long familiar with the variety of instinctual noises that a Zora could make from their content purrs all the way to their grunts, snorts, growls and roars. He had just never thought about how many of those sounds actually came from the gills. True, some very obviously came from the back of the throat, but there were definitely some snorts that Sidon had been prone to make that came out when he was in the middle of speaking. Those must’ve come from his gills.

But sneezes, Link had no clue where those would come from, if they happened at all. 

He learned almost immediately after the thought occurred to him because as Sidon tried to sit down he inhaled sharply from his mouth, his face contorting just as anyone else’s did before the sneeze. 

“Ahh-aaahhh,” Sidon gasped, and Link prematurely flinched, expecting his sneeze to shake the earth as much as his furious roars did in the heat of battle. 

When Sidon pitched forward, however, his voice let out one more loud pre-sneeze gasp but the sneeze itself was the tiniest, quietest little squeak Link had ever heard in his life. His gills pushed out air so fast that they sounded like a quickly deflating balloon. They also flexed completely - more so than they ever had when Sidon flared them - making Sidon look three times wider and rounder than he actually was. His tail stuck straight out on reflex. He then inhaled again for another sneeze and the same quiet little whistle left his gills. When his tail finally relaxed Sidon looked up, his snout scrunching slightly in discontent and he sniffled again before looking over to Link as if the sudden action had been an everyday occurrence.

Whether it was from the shock of how that did not go anywhere near what Link would have guessed or because what actually happened was so damn cute, Link did not know, but for whatever the reason the Hylian doubled over laughing.

“What?” Sidon asked, looking a little miffed.

It took several minutes for Link to calm down enough before he could lift his hands from his own sides and sign, “That was just the cutest thing!” 

“My…sneeze?” Sidon asked. “It’s no different than any other sneeze.”

“No, no!” Link cackled, trying to form the words on his hands, “Hylian sneezes are nothing like that!” 

“Oh,” Sidon looked down in thought. “Well…I suppose you have a point considering that you breathe through your noses. Would your sneezes be more vocal, then?”

Link giggled, nodding his head.

Sidon gave a small smile, his tail wagging a little, “Now that is the cutest thing I have ever heard.” 

Link had calmed down from his laughing fit enough to give Sidon a quizzical stare and sign, “Actually, Hylian sneezes can be really loud…and a bit annoying.”

Sidon chuckled, his smile growing. “I was talking about your giggles.”

Any residual laughter stopped in his chest and Link felt his ears turn a bright red. Sidon smiled even wider, his tail wagging pretty consistently for several beats before it stiffened again.

“You going to sneeze?” Link guessed, his grin returning. Sidon couldn’t answer but this time Link watched his tail as it lifted further and further up (he didn’t know his tail muscles could flex that direction!) with each inhale. And then Sidon pitched forward again and then ‘squeeeeeee!’ there came that cute whistle again and Link was rolling in the field of flowers laughing.

 He felt bad for Sidon, he really did. But even so, Link learned that day that Zora sneezes were probably one of his favorite sounds.

accusations and jealousy.

Originally posted by teenwolf--imagines

scott mccall x reader

prompt: scott has been ignoring you for weeks so you move onto issac, just for scott to see and drag you away.

warnings: SMUT. rough, swearing, ass-play, squirting.

A/N: i have so many derek requests but this has been sitting in my ask for a long time and i finally got around to doing it, yay. also, this is pure fucking filth so if you’re under 18, don’t read it. (or any of my writing really.) thank you.

the classroom was loud as you sat in history class in beacon hills highschool. everyone was talking and giggling about what they’d done at the weekend having no clue how you and your pack had put your lives on the line just to keep them safe yet again, but that wasn’t what was on your mind. 

tapping your pen off of the desk, you stared at the back of scotts head with your fist resting under your chin. you knew he could feel you burning holes into him yet he didn’t turn around, knowing your eyes were filled with fire solely directed at him. it was no secret that you and scott had been known to fool around with each other, yet it had been weeks since he’d even spoke a word to you let alone touched you. 

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Remedy

A/N: I wrote this one before I even started this blog and decided to post it for y’all. It’s in Bucky’s perspective, which I’ve never posted in beforeeee, so I hope you like it? (It’s like a year old yikes) It’s still a bucky x reader, just not in the readers pov. so yah.

Warnings: Cussing, a little tiny bit of smut, and I think that’s it. 

Originally posted by avengershaveboobs

“Harder!” Stark yelled, causing me to groan. “I’m punching as hard as I fucking can, it’s unfair that you’re using your glove!” 

“Bucky, your arm is metal. You should be able to punch a hole through the damn thing.” Tony was showing absolutely no mercy today, and I couldn’t fucking stand it. Everything about him annoyed the hell out of me, and the fact that we were paired for training just frustrated me even more. 

I clenched my fist as tightly as I could and swung forward with as much force as I could muster, sending the punching bag off of the chains that held it to the ceiling and taking Tony down with it. 

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Flashes (Part 3)

Summary: Soulmate AU. “The fault, dear Brutus is not in our stars, / But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” - William Shakespeare (Julius Caesar)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,012

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, it’s actually kind of optimistic???

A/N: Well, I did it…at least I tried. The lovely @minervaem challenged me (sort of) to do an angsty story. I’m warning you now, it’s not gonna be pretty.

Reader has her first flash, and stumbles upon some intriguing information…

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Originally posted by rainy--blog

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It’s a Surprise

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 3,707 

Warnings: Swearing, mild nudity, hint at smut, general fluffiness and lots of it.

Prompt: Sam decides that instead of a boring Valentine’s day of exchanging beer and chocolate, he wants to take Y/N out on a real Valentine’s Day special getaway.

Prompt 2: Gif choice from @supernatural-jackles birthday challenge.

A/N: This is written for @supernatural-jackles birthday challenge. I know I am so late, but my excuse is that I have changed this idea a billion times! I chose a gif for her challenge, and it is located within the fic.

Also, side note yes I know it’s not even close to Valentine’s day, but don’t pay attention to that.

This is unbetaed so any and all mistakes are mine.

Originally posted by hallowedbecastiel

23 Hours Before Valentine’s Day

“Ectoplasm. I thought we were done dealing with this disgusting crap!” Y/N complained as she strode into the bunker, wiping the towel over her arms. “I’m gonna need, like, seventeen showers just to rid myself of this goop. Yuck!” A giant splatter of the black goo was flicked from Y/N’s jacket and onto the floor, making Dean and Sam cringe.

“Really? In the bunker, c’mon…” Dean groaned.

Y/N turned angrily at Dean, hurling the dirty towel in his direction. “You’re lucky I didn’t get any in your precious Baby! This is your fault you know!”

“What?” Dean rolled his eyes. “If you knew how to swing an iron bar, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself into this mess. Literally.”

“If you wouldn’t have pushed me in front of the monster barf, I wouldn’t be in this mess. It would’ve been you in this mess.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed. “Just go take your damn shower.”

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Chinese Takeout-(Stiles Stilinski)

Originally posted by thealpha

Characters: Allison Argent, Kira Yukimura, Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey, Coach Finstock, Stiles Stilinski and (Y/N)

Warnings: none?

Pairing: hint at Stiles x Reader

Word Count: 1243

Summary: Stiles, out of nowhere, involves you in the tradition that takes place every lacrosse match Beacon Hills plays.


Stiles Stilinski. The schools weird kid with an endless supply of sarcasm. Stiles, who’s both a naturally smart kid like his dad and on the lacrosse team. Stiles Stilinski, the guy who I have a raging crush on for 3 agonizing years. 

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The Persuasion Show

Written by Yours Truly, ask-sadisticdark. I have promised a story at 1,000 followers, and here we are! I am ever so glad that you all decided to remain with me, a blubbering and rambling mess of a Figment. Without further ado, here we begin.

WARNING: This story details a stressful situation with mild (very mild, only mentions of blood), mocking, and vulgar. If this does not appeal to you, I urge you to not complete this story. Thank you.


The night never used to effect you.

For some points in your life, you never even noticed the change of the day. The computer screen blaring its blue light right into your eyes made it hard to realize that at some point, sunlight failed to gleam its way past your window curtains. But things change.

And your fears changed with them.

Darkiplier’s return hadn’t struck you much when it first occurred. You had been excited and enthralled by the momentum of it all, but there was no true fear. But as it was said… things change. And things changed very drastically on one particular blustering, lonely night.

You remember it vividly. It was dark, the wind was crashing like tidal waves against the panels of your house, but you paid almost no mind to it. It’s desperate warning howls against cold and bitter air never seemed to register its way into your head. You were busy, far too busy, to listen. Instead, your attentions were eagerly set upon one particular youtube channel, and to one particular youtuber, who’s smile and stubble always seemed to burn a piece of you even brighter. Every time his video started, your entire body always relaxed. Every time his voice rolled from the speakers of your computer, you were already fixated.

“Hello everybody, my name is Markiplier and welcome-”

Another horrible gurgling sound of the wind smacking against the tree branches almost drowned out the sounds of Mark speaking. But you were determined to listen, you were an avid lover of the Subnautica series, after all. It started as usual, Mark had his character standing out into the empty abyss of the sea, looking towards the horizon and blabbering his thoughts about his loneliness and plans to rebuild a base somewhere deep underwater. And you loved every second of it. You loved his goofy childish fear of the creatures bellowing from beyond. You loved his ambitions and truest, deepest, desire to learn more about the secrets hidden bellow ocean waves.

That is when everything went horribly wrong.

It was about ten minutes into the video. Mark had his Seamoth floating into the endless chasms of the trenches of the deep, darkness surrounding him, eery music screeching beneath his words. There was an abrupt beeping sound that sounded much like a computer error note, and the youtube video was cut off, glitched into place in the midst of Mark’s opening mouth.

The sudden file that abruptly popped up in the center of your screen made you jerk in your seat. Leaning back after realizing how closely you had been leaning, your eyes stared upon the digital manila envelope that sat right smack in the middle of the youtube video, innocent but very, very odd. In bold black letters beneath the folder, it read

“Read Me.”

Instead of feeling fear, you scowled in annoyance. Damn bots and their malware. You quickly clicked away from the envelope, and it brought you back to the youtube screen, where you were able to begin the video again. In just mere moments, you completely forgot all about that strange, random digital file.

Mark’s humorous statements, and the surprising calm of the wind battering the window pane, caused you to begin relaxing again. When the loud bling sound arrived for the second time, only about five minutes after deleting the first file, you almost gave a gasp in surprise. The file, in all its small digital glory, popped back up onto the midst of the computer screen, sitting patiently, quietly, unassuming. But the words bellow had changed. In that same bold font, rigid and black, it read;

“I Said Read Me.”

This one caused your attention. This one, you could feel, caused for your stomach to awkwardly flutter in a mixture of nervous curiosity. This was definitely no malware, no bot had ever sent another message after being declined with such demand. Your hand on the mouse, suddenly becoming slightly slick, slowly pulled the cursor over the file, highlighting it in preparation to click. But you hesitated.

What if this absolutely fucked up your computer? Implanted a virus or some type of device to stalk you while you slept. You had heard of the stories before, those horrible nightmarish instances where someone was kidnapped by a freak viewing them from their computer screen…. But this felt… different. Somehow, this felt… safe. You had no explanation as to why, and you rarely ever trusted your judgement. But without another pause, you tapped the file to beckon it open.

The file disappeared, and into another quick moment, a blank empty page took its place, only taking up about half of the screen in a small rectangular shape. The page, in same bolded black, only read a few words.

“Mind Or Body?”

And beneath those words were two empty boxes, one with an M beside it, and the other with a B. They were waiting to be checked.

At this point, you were beyond puzzled. What did the question even mean? Was this some sort of advertisement? It couldn’t have been, advertisements were never ones to be mysterious. They immediately wanted you to know their name and they motives. This was just… bizarre.

“Mind Or Body?”

You removed your hand from the mouse, and slowly rubbed the cold and sweating fingertips of yours across your cheeks, desperately trying to understand what it was initially asking. Was it based off attraction? Perhaps that was it… intelligence or beauty, perhaps, was the underlying cause. You had to assume so, because it certainly wasn’t giving any further clues.

Your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth, scowling in an attempted concentration as a slow breath drew from you. On top of trying to discover where this file had come from, and why, you were also trying to choose between the two options.

What did it matter, really anyway? What type of strange poll was this, and how did it affect anything?

In a fit of “I don’t care”, you wiggled your cursor across the screen before randomly choosing one of the options. You think you ended up clicking on Body, but you weren’t completely sure.

The page disappeared in a silent blink, leaving the canvas of the youtube page up to its fullest colors. But despite the eagerly awaiting adventures that were going to occur in the deep, you failed to start the video again. You merely stared, blankly, unseeing of the bold red outline of the webpage. You were too intensely in thought, and too intent on finding out what that file had exactly done to the likes of your computer.

You ran a malware check, a virus check, and a few treatment diagnostics, almost certain some type of disruption surely had made its way to the database. But, the computer seemed certain that all was well, as certain as it was that it couldn’t find the source of that file, or the history of its appearance.

Satisfied, only partially, that all was well, you shrugged off the experience and assumed that whatever poll you had just taken was going to some sort of research facility, somewhere in the world. A strange, mysterious, unknown facility, but a facility nonetheless. Your hand fell upon the mouse again, and you moved your cursor across the screen in order to reopen your page again.

You only got about half way.

The entirety of your screen froze, or at least, that’s what you could determine. No matter how aggressively you swiped your mice across your desk, around in circles, back and forth, zigzagging and cursing under your breath, the white little cursor simply remained stuck right in the center of your computer screen.

“Dammit you stupid lagging piece of trash.” Your voice growled in disdain as you lifted the mouse in your hand, beginning to twist it to check and see if anything had blocked off the sensors down bellow. It was then that the familiar, horribly familiar, bling from the computer resounded in your ears again.

Your eyes lifted back towards the computer before you, and there, in the center of the computer, directly bellow the cursor with the same cream manila envelope, was another file.

“View Me.”

You were unable to move the cursor in order to hover over the words, the entirety of your screen had obviously completely crashed. So, in one last effort, you pressed your finger against your enter button. The file glitched into uneven shreds, ditching across the screen as a scratching noise, like fuzz and screeching nails, echoed in your ears for a moment or so, before all was quiet again. Calmly, a much larger rectangle assumed its place, but it was empty, and black, and a small play button sat in the center. It was a video. It began playing with you urging it to start.

The scene it faded into caused the depths of your chest to rise into your throat.

The dark concrete room was barren, lacking substantial light and seeming to be aged and worn. Deep cracks were in the floor and wall that connected together. Dark stains, mud or… blood… or whatever else… were randomly splattered against the surface. You could almost smell the musky scent it most certainly wafted.

A man sat directly in the center, head drooped lowly, the black raven tresses of his hair cascading over half of his face. The chair he sat in was large, awkwardly large, metallic and rigid and surely not comfortable. You could see that his eyes were closed, but it lacked anything that would describe that he was peaceful. His hands were stuck awkwardly behind his back, elbows protruding outward enough to make you believe his wrists were most likely bound.

“Mark…” The words barely left you, your voice was having a difficult time being used. What in the hell was this? Why were you being shown something like this? What did it mean?

You were desperately attempting to process the horrid display, when suddenly they entirety of the scene jostled and wiggled, blurring the figure in front of you. Someone was adjusting the camera pointed in Mark’s direction.

“Mmmmm….” There was a light growling sound in the depth of an unknown figure’s throat, whoever was behind the scene. Behind the camera. Behind all of this mayhem you were looking upon. There was a few more seconds of jostling and incoherent muttering, before there was a loud click, and a sound of praise.

“There we are.” The voice was rich, flowing and gentle, almost calming if any different situation was occurring. A man, burly and tall, surprisingly pale, strode into the view of the camera.

You suddenly realized just how thirsty you were. All you ever wanted, at that moment, was a tall glass of water.

Dark turned himself around in order to burn his gaze into the camera lens, staring directly into you with a smile that arched unnaturally. His arms that lay at his sides swung out, beckoning in a gesture of prideful welcome.

“Lovelies, ladies and gentleman, one… and all. I am most pleased to find you here with me. Welcome, all of you, to my first ever, official, Darkiplier episode.” Dark clapped his hands together and hugged them close to his chest, snickering and smiling in a giddy fashion.

“It took quite a bit of effort, I must admit. Days worth of planning, aggravation, sweat and tears and blood, quite literally, in order to make this possible. I set up the scene, of course, with the skills that I wield. But the final piece, the final push to truly… get this episode rolling, was something I required from you.”

Dark stood directly in front of Mark’s body, who remained unmoving, locked in some type of trance, or fretful sleep, looking like a long passed mannequin. Dark didn’t even seem to notice Mark’s existence, his entire attentions focused to the screen, and he continued talking.

“All of you received a poll, just minutes ago. The question, as I’m sure you all can recall, was ‘Mind or Body?’ Did any of you ponder what this may entail? Hmm? Did any of you suspect any ill will when you responded? Well, whatever curiosity you have faced in these last few moments, my friends, it will finally be quenched. Your responses determined the actions that will be bestowed upon my perfect little subject here with me, today. Some of you may know him from his video channel, some of you may have no recognition of him. I simply call him Mark.”

Dark stepped to the side only slightly, and twisted his shoulders to show off the shadowed figure of poor empty Mark, hanging in his seat.

“Perhaps ‘The Little Wench Who Ruined My Existence’ would suffice as a more suitable nickname, however. Don’t you agree, Mark?”

After another pause, he turned back, and jerked his hands against the hem of his vest, straining the fabric. He continued as if he hadn’t interacted with the unconscious man at all. As he did, his smile shifted, only slightly, something laying beneath his skin that grew darker, less friendly. He seemed to be staring directly into you, and you alone.

“Some of you may believe that this is for Mark alone. But you would assume incorrectly. Don’t you see? I tried to play nicely. I tried to be the wonderful, perfect Figment they all assumed me to be. But still… you doubted. Adoration turned into comfortableness. You all became fearless of me. You sought me out because you thought I was fUnnY, OR cuTE, or soMEtHING to brINg you AMUsemenT. You all believe that I am…. am incapable….. of what I KNOW…. I can do. You all believe that I am weak, pathetic, and that I am simply some… imagination. Some… tHinG. Well… I am here to remind you, Lovelies, that I am not some wandering decision. I am a concrete REALITY. And now… well… I will prove. What I. Am capable of.”


TO BE CONTINUED?


Oops! I may have not completely fulfilled my promise. Did I fail to mention I would only be providing HALF of the story at 1,000 followers? How disappointing. It must have slipped my mind.

Do you desire part two? Perhaps I will continue at 1,500. Or perhaps not. We’ll see where the wind takes me.

Fragments - Part 7

Word Count: 8219 (yikes)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Canon divergence

A/N: I can’t add any new tags and I’ve had to abandon the Fragments series tag list, but if you follow/turn on post notifications for @torn-and-frayed-writes you won’t miss an update. All updates will be reblogged over there right after they’re posted here. 

Fragments Masterlist


“Um, Dean, why are you getting in the back seat?” The three of you had just come out of the woods after another hunt. It seemed you’d been marathon hunting lately, not that you cared. It actually seemed to help keep your mind off everything. You enjoyed it.

“Decided to let Sammy drive for awhile. Thought I’d sit back here with you.” Dean shrugged. “Are you not ok with that?”

“I’m fine with it, unless you’re back here to gloat about killing Hitler some more because if you are I’m gonna throw you into traffic.” Sam’s laughter reverberated through the car but Dean didn’t find you at all funny.

“Killing Hitler is kind of a big deal, Y/N.” Dean grumbled. “You could show some more gratitude. Especially since I saved your ass from some Nazis too.”

“I know. I was there.” You rolled your eyes as Sam started up the car and started driving away. “But you really, really don’t need to tell me about it another thousand times. I got it.”

“Geez. Testy much?” You shot Dean a glare and he held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry.”

“It’s so good to have you back.” Sam chuckled.

“Aw, thanks Sam.” You giggled. “Someone has to keep your brother’s ego in check.”

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