i just wanted to know the name of the business behind him and he killed me

fake dating! zimbits

It was only by a stroke of luck that Jack happened to look at his phone just as he exits the lecture hall. The group chat was blowing up – the group chat was always blowing up these days – but the lack of all-caps or exclamation marks caught his attention right away.

Eric Bittle: Guys, I wouldn’t ask this of y’all if I really didn’t need this, but I have to ask a HUGE favor of one of you.

Shitty Knight: brah are you dying

Justin Oluransi: You can have my kidney, Bits.

Adam Birkholtz: u aren’t gonna save that for me just in CASE, JUSTIN?

Larissa Duan: shit, bitty, r u ok

Eric Bittle: Um, yeah, mostly, I just…..need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend.

Keep reading

Say That Again

Summary: Soulmate AU. Everyone hears a key word or phrase in their head from their soulmate, something only heard in person when the moment is right.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,543

Warnings: language, self-consciousness, fluff, that’s basically it

A/N: This is my submission for the lovely wonderful talented @bladebarnes’ 2k Celebration Challenge. My prompt was 35. quote: “Say that again.” I saw Baby Driver recently and couldn’t get the diner thing out of my head.

Originally posted by coporolight

Keep reading

washingtonpost.com
Perspective | I wanted to understand why racists hated me. So I befriended Klansmen.
My collection of robes and hoods is still growing.

By Daryl Davis,  September 29 at 6:00 AM:  Daryl Davis, author of “Klan-Destine Relationships,” and subject of the documentary “Accidental Courtesy,” is an award-winning musician, actor, lecturer and race relations expert.    

“One night in 1983, I found myself playing in a country band at a truck stop lounge. I was the only black person in the joint. Taking a break after the first set of music, I was headed to sit at a table with my bandmates when a white gentleman approached from behind and put his arm around my shoulders. “I really enjoy y’all’s music,” he said. I shook his hand and thanked him. “This is the first time I ever heard a black man play piano like Jerry Lee Lewis,” he continued.

I told him that Lewis was a friend of mine and that he had learned his style from watching and listening to black blues and boogie-woogie pianists. My new fan didn’t buy it, but he did want to buy me a drink. While we sipped, he clinked my glass and said, “This is the first time I ever sat down and had a drink with a black man.”

Why? “I’m a member of the Ku Klux Klan,” he said. I burst out laughing. Then he handed me his KKK membership card, and I recognized the Klan’s symbols. In that moment, I was overcome by a question: How could anybody hate me when they didn’t even know me?

I was no stranger to racism. Having grown up a black person in the ’60s and ’70s, I knew that prejudice was common. But I had never understood why. Sitting in that lounge with my new friend, I decided to figure it out in the only way that made sense: By getting to know those who felt hostility toward black people without ever having known any.

Several years later, I recruited that man, whose name was Frank James, to put me in contact with the grand dragon of the Maryland Klan. He tried to deter me, warning that the leader would kill me. But eventually, after I promised not to reveal how I’d gotten the grand dragon’s contact information, James gave it to me.

By then I had decided to travel around the country and interview KKK leaders and members from various chapters and factions to get the answer to my question: How can you hate someone you’ve never met? I was planning to write a book detailing my interviews, experiences and encounters with these Ku Klux Klan members. (The book, “Klan-Destine Relationships,” was published in 1998.)

I had my white secretary, who typically booked my band and assisted me with my music business, set up a meeting with the Maryland grand dragon, explaining that her boss was writing a book on the Klan and would like his input. Per my instructions, she did not reveal the color of my skin.

The grand dragon agreed to participate, and we secured a room at a Frederck, Maryland motel, where my secretary filled an ice bucket with cans of soda so I could offer my guest a drink. Regardless of how and what he felt about me, if he entered my room after seeing the color of my skin, I was going to treat him with hospitality.

Punctual to the minute, there was a knock on the door. The grand nighthawk (the grand dragon’s bodyguard) entered first, and then the dragon himself. “Hello,” I began, “I’m Daryl Davis.” I offered my palm, and the dragon shook my hand as he and the nighthawk introduced themselves. The dragon sat in the chair I had set out, and the nighthawk stood at attention beside him.

We were both apprehensive of the other, and the interview started haltingly. We discussed what he had hoped to achieve by joining the Klan; what his thoughts were on blacks, Asians, Jews and Hispanics; and whether he thought it would ever be possible for different races to get along. A little while later, we heard an inexplicable crackling noise and we both tensed. The dragon and I stared each other in the eye, silently asking, “What did you just do?” The nighthawk reached for his gun. Nobody spoke. I barely breathed.

Seated atop the dresser, my secretary realized what had happened: The ice in the bucket had started to melt, causing the soda cans to shift. It happened again, and we all began laughing. From there, the interview went on without a hitch.

It was a perfect illustration that ignorance breeds fear and possibly violence. An unknown noise in an ice bucket could’ve led to gunfire, had we not taken a moment to understand what we were encountering.

Even though the grand dragon, who now prefers not to be named, had told me he knew that white people were superior to blacks, our dialogue continued over the years. He would visit me in my home, and I would eventually be a guest in his. We would share many meals together, even though he thought I was inferior. Within a couple of years, he rose to the rank of imperial wizard, the top national leadership position in the Klan.

Over the past 30 years, I have come to know hundreds of white supremacists, from KKK members, neo-Nazis and white nationalists to those who call themselves alt-right. Some were good people with wrong beliefs, and others were bad people hellbent on violence and the destruction of those who were non-Aryan.

There was Bob White, a grand dragon for Maryland who served four years in prison for conspiring to bomb a synagogue in Baltimore, where he had been a police officer. When he got out, he returned to the Klan and later went back to prison for three more years for assaulting two black men with a shotgun, evidently intent on murder. But after I reached out to him with a letter while he was in prison for the second time, Bob became a very good friend, renounced the Klan and attended my wedding.

Imperial Wizard Frank Ancona, who headed one of the largest Klan groups in the country, would also become a very close friend. When Frank was killed this year (his wife and stepson have been charged with his murder), one of his Klan members, knowing how close we had been, called me and told me before notifying the police. I accepted the Klan’s invitation to participate in his funeral service.

Three weeks after this summer’s violent clash in Charlottesville, I was invited by the leaders of the Tennessee and Kentucky chapters of Ancona’s branch of the Klan to speak at their national Konvocation. I accepted, spoke and took audience questions after the lecture. Whether or not anyone there immediately changed their minds, we talked as people — and we all benefitted from that.

I am not so naive as to think everyone will change. There are certainly those who will go to their graves as hateful, violent racists. I never set out certain that I would convert anyone. I just wanted to have a conversation and ask, “How can you hate me when you don’t even know me?” What I’ve learned is that whether or not I’ve changed minds, talking can still relieve tensions. I’ve seen firsthand that when two enemies are talking, they are not fighting. They may be yelling and beating their fists on the table, but at least they are talking. Violence happens only when talking has stopped.

And sometimes, people do change. One day in 1999, after having been in the Ku Klux Klan for about 20 years, the Klan leader from the motel interview, whom I watched go from grand dragon to imperial wizard, called me, said he was leaving the Klan and apologized for having been a member. He told me he could no longer hate people. I had not turned out to be what he had always thought of black people. He went on to become one of my best friends, and today I own his robe and hood — one set of many in my collection of garments donated to me by apostate Klansmen and Klanswomen,

which is always growing.”

Top 10 times my heart broke for Rhysand

#1 When she never smiled at him

I waited for you at breakfast, but you slept in. Or avoided me, apparently. And I tried to catch your eye this afternoon, but you were so good at shutting me out completely.” “Is that what got under your skin? That I shut you out, or that it was so easy for Tarquin to get in?” “What got under my skin,” Rhys said, his breathing a bit uneven, “is that you smiled at him.” The rest of the world faded to mist as the words sank in. “You are jealous.”

and that one time she finally did

His fingers tightened on mine, and I looked up. He was smiling at me. And looked so un-High-Lord-like with the glowing dust on the side of his face that I grinned back. I hadn’t even realized what I’d done until his own smile faded, and his mouth parted slightly. “Smile again,” he whispered. I hadn’t smiled for him. Ever. Or laughed. Under the Mountain, I had never grinned, never chuckled. And afterward … And this male before me … my friend … For all that he had done, I had never given him either. Even when I had just … I had just painted something. On him. For him. I’d—painted again. So I smiled at him, broad and without restraint. “You’re exquisite,” he breathed.

#2 When Rhys confessed to having his wishes unfulfilled

“Isn’t that what High Lords do?” My breath clouded in front of me in the brisk night. “Whatever they please?” He studied my face. “There are a great many things that I wish to do, and don’t get to.”

#3 When we find out what his nightmares were about

“I’m sorry I didn’t find a way to spare you from what happened Under the Mountain,” Rhys said with equal quiet. “From dying. From wanting to die.” I began to shake my head, but he said, “I have two kinds of nightmares: the ones where I’m again Amarantha’s whore or my friends are … And the ones where I hear your neck snap and see the light leave your eyes.”

#4 When the High Lord of Night Court physically flinched from an emotional wound

“What is it that you want, Feyre?” I had no answer. I didn’t know. Not anymore. “What is it that you want, Feyre?” I stayed silent. His laugh was bitter, soft. “I thought so. Perhaps you should take some time to figure that out one of these days.” “Perhaps I don’t know what I want, but at least I don’t hide what I am behind a mask,” I seethed. “At least I let them see who I am, broken bits and all. Yes—it’s to save your people. But what about the other masks, Rhys? What about letting your friends see your real face? But maybe it’s easier not to. Because what if you did let someone in? And what if they saw everything, and still walked away? Who could blame them—who would want to bother with that sort of mess?” He flinched. The most powerful High Lord in history flinched. And I knew I’d hit hard—and deep. Too hard. Too deep.

and when we learned how deep that wound went

“Why didn’t you tell me?” “You were in love with him; you were going to marry him. And then you… you were enduring everything and it didn’t feel right to tell you.” “I deserved to know.” “The other night you told me you wanted a distraction, you wanted fun. Not a mating bond. And not to someone like me - a mess.” So the words I’d spat after the Court of Nightmares had haunted him

#5 When he considered settling for ‘whatever pieces she offered him’

“You think I didn’t want to tell you? You think I liked hearing you wanted me only for amusement and release? You think it didn’t drive me out of my mind so completely that those bastards shot me out of the sky because I was too busy wondering if I should tell you, or wait - or maybe take whatever pieces that you offered me and be happy with it? Or that maybe I should let you go so you don’t have a lifetime of assassins and High Lords hunting you down for being with me?”

#6 When he cried…

“But then she snapped your neck.” Tears rolled down his face. “And I felt you die,” he whispered.

But I was being ripped apart from the inside out, and I thrashed, unable to out-scream the pain. “Feyre!” someone roared. No, not someone—Rhysand. Rhysand yelled my name again - yelled it as though he cared 

-A Court of Thornes and Roses

#7 When he spent 3 months thinking she hated him

“And for three months… for three months I tried to convince myself that you were better off without me. I tried to convince myself that everything I’d done had made you hate me.”

#8 When he put her happiness above his own

“I heard you were going to marry him, and I told myself you were happy. I should let you be happy, even if it killed me. Even if you were my mate, you’d earned that happiness.”

#9 When he thought he wasn’t that type of person for her

“I heard what you told him,” he said. “That you thought it would be easy to fall in love with him. You meant it, too.” “So?” It was the only thing I could think of to say. “I was jealous—of that. That I’m not … that sort of person. For anyone.“

#10 When we found out that all this time he had been in love with Feyre

“It killed me, Feyre, to send you back. To see you waste away, month by month. It killed me to know he was sharing your bed. Not just because you were my mate, but because I … ” He glanced down, then up at me again. “I knew … I knew I was in love with you that moment I picked up the knife to kill Amarantha.”

Quotes from ACOMAF and ACOTAR

On a happier note: Another Top 10 for Rhys

Who You Belong To

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, oral sex, jealous Draco

Tags: @xx-thefandomssavedme-xx, @capsbuchanan, @justareader, @jarnesbrnes, @bovaria, @buckys-shield

Summary: Draco and you go to the ball but not together, but you do leave together.

A/N: Gryffindor reader because that’s how it needs to be to let this story work out.

Originally posted by harley-quinn

Keep reading

Pre-Kerberos! Matt HC

[Pre-Kerberos! Matt]

★ Matt is the whitest of the whites, he eats one hot chip and it’s game over.

★ He’s allergic to pickles

★ He got Katie into aliens and cryptids

  • He doesn’t regret it                                                                             

★ Him and Shiro were friends, even before the Garrison.

★ He’s a little shit, the Garrison teachers expected him to be the perfect student since he was Sam and Colleen’s son.

  • They were wrong, he started a black market and wasn’t found out until it was too late. He made more than $500 bucks cash.

★ Whenever he was called into the office to talk about his future he just answered with “Kick ass, go to space, represent the human race.”

The cost of losing a bet with him was high

  • Once a kid had to go up to Iverson and ask if he was a furry and if his boyfriend was bigfoot.
  • They were required to help Iverson for the rest of the year during their free hour.

★ Anytime anyone asked if him and Shiro were dating, he did finger guns and awkwardly backed away.

★ Has been the cause of the science lab blowing up at least 5 times.

  • Shiro was apart of three of them.

★ Puns were his shit no one could escape

  • Shiro does this make us…..Kerbros?”
  • “If it weren’t for the laws of this land, I would’ve slaughtered you, Matt.”

★ Would fight you if you said Pluto wasn’t a planet

★ Is the most oblivious of people, two kids had a crush on him at the same time and he never noticed

  • But he can somehow notice when people have crushes on each other??

★ He met Neil Degrasse Tyson once and cried

★ Katie and him show their love by roasting each other on the daily

★ “I know you love those peas, Dad.” was only the tip of the Yikesburg™ .

★ He dyed Shiro’s hair once

  • It went as well as expected
  • It was neon blue

★ He smuggled Pidge into the Garrison once with the help of Shiro

  • Keith found them dragging her through the window
  • He just stared silently and walked away

★ He can do a perfect Yoda impression

  • Katie sadly found out when she on the verge of sleep at 3am

★ Subs always liked him for some reason, no one really knew how or why though.

★ He could name all 206 bones in the human body, and he taught Keith how to break every one of them

★ Katie popped out the lens in his back-up prescription glasses

  • He cried

★ He can quote back to the future word for word

★ “What are you gonna do punch me???”

  • The kid decked him
  • He broke their leg

★ He threatened to sell Katie to the Garrison for a pizza

  • A guy’s gotta do what they gotta do to get some decent food

★ “How’d you do in your flight test, Matt?” “Oh, I nearly killed Shiro. it’s chill though.”

★ He cries whenever he sees dogs since the Garrison is in the middle of nowhere

  • He once cried for more dog deaths in three school days than his entire life

★ “Hey Matt, high-five the stars for me okay?” “Of course, Katie.”

  • She hasn’t found out if he did or not.

★ It was his idea to name their dog Gunther

  • “What the fuck, Matt” “It haS CHARACTER KATIE”

★ Him and his mom are kickass together.

  • Everyone is low-key terrified of them

★ He crashed his bike into a tree once

  • “Lol you guys will never guess what happened”
  • “What”
  • “My bone is no longer in my leg”

★ “Do you think Iverson and—” “I’m gonna stop you right there.”

★ He hacked the speakers in the Garrison to play Bill Nye the Science Guy when someone said he wasn’t a real scientist

★ Believes in the multiverse theory and soulmates

  • Maybe in some other universe him and Shiro are happy

★ He’s pan and poly, fight me   

  • Katie got him a shirt that read “Pans for Bigfoot”    
  • He wore it everywhere

★ He finished the office in a week and stares at a security camera whenever something stupid happens

★ Someone confessed to him once and he panicked and said “Thank you”

★ Matt is actually a super good crossdresser???

  • Shiro and Keith are surprised???
  • Katie had to get it from somewhere y’all

★ Lowkey likes to make fun of Keith for being Texan

  • “Y’all’d’ve done good if y’all had listened to me.”
  •  “I hate living because of you, Matt.”

★ Bill Nye the Science Guy is his dad and you can’t tell him otherwise.

  • He’ll fight you if you say he isn’t a real Scientist

★ MATT REALLY LIKES AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER, LIKE I HAVEN’T EVEN SEEN IT BUT I KNOW HE DOES.

★ Him and Katie learned Latin for kicks

★ Speaks fluent meme

★ **Drops one piece of candy on his room floor** “,,,,,,,,” **Kneels down to look for it**

★ 10/10 doesn’t know how to handle any crushes he has

  • He realized he had a crush on Shiro with the “help” of Katie and Keith
  • He tried to eat an entire jar of pickles afterwards

★ “Matt, you have a crush on my brother, admit it” “New glasses, who dis?”

★ “Shiro, when I was your age,,,,,,” “One day, you’re just not going to wake up.”

★ He somehow convinced Shiro to dress up as Watson while he was Sherlock

★ Hamilton’s number 1 fan

★ He spits out facts at random

  • “Y’know Alexander Hamilton spelt Philadelphia wrong in our Constitution?” 
  • Katie, who has been running on 3 hours of sleep: please shut tf up

★ “You’re a little shit Matt” “Atleast I don’t quote Fairy Tail any chance i get”

★ Matt: THIS BITCH EMPTY 
★ Katie, grabbing his backpack full of assignments from the Garrison: Y E E T

★ He hates coffee but will drink 5 cans of soda in an hour

★ “YOOOOO I TELL YOU WHAT I WANT WHAT I REALLY WANT” “SO TELL ME WANT WHAT YOU REALLY WANT” “I WANNA–”

  • Sam Holt voice: Please,,,,just go to sleep”

★ He’s a Gryffindor

★ Someone bet him that he couldn’t eat 2 of the new Grand Macs

  • He ate 4, Katie ate 5
  • Everyone was impressed and low-key terrified

★ Shiro: bro take off your glasses
★ Matt: bro everything’s a blur
★ Shiro: that’s my life without you
 Matt, tearfully: Bro… 

Iverson: any questions?
Matt: Yeah, first of all, how dare you?

★ “Would you slap Katie for $2,000?” “I’d break both of Katie’s arms and my own leg for a small fry from McDonald's”

★ Shiro gave him one of his sweaters when it was cold out once

  • Shiro hasn’t seen it since

★ He had an emo phase that lasted 2 months before he got tired of the eyeliner

  • Katie likes to bring it up at the worst times

He’s covered in bandaids 90% of the time

  • Most times it’s because he and Katie were fucking around while building smth

★ “The amount of uses for a dead horse is infinite” “Matt, honestly, just go to church”

★ His mind is just a constant loop of that scene in VeggieTales where the realized they didn’t have hands and just sadly looked at each other

★ “KATIE POKEMON PIDGEOTTO HOLT

★ Mashed potatoes can and should fuck him up

★ Learned to play the kazoo for meme opportunity

★ Once burnt off one of his eyebrows from boiling water

★ Him and Katie do the handshake thing from Zack and Cody

★ Whenever someone asks to see a picture of Katie, he just pulls out a picture of Pidgey from Pokémon

  • Matt: Isn’t she pretty?

★ He beat every island in poptropica

★ He can make really nice flower crowns nobody has questioned it

★ He talks with his hands a lot

  • He’s hit Keith in the face more than once because of it

★ You know when it snowed in Egypt for the first time in years and that guy had that giant ass snowball and was gonna fucking dunk it on his friend?

  • That’s Matt

★ He can dance?? Where did he learn it? Nobody knows

★ “Keith I came as soon as i heard! I can’t believe it I knew you two were close”
★“Wtf are you talking about?”
★“Punk is dead, Keith”

★ When the rumour that MCR was coming back you bet your ass Matt was ready to blast every song whenever he saw Keith

★ “I’m Matt, the radar technician”

★ He recreated BB-8 from Star Wars: The Force Awakens and cried

★ “Bitch, I am a gift of God, square up”

  • Get it? Because Matthew means gift of God??

★ He can solve a rubix cube behind his back in under 35 seconds

★ If he laughs hard enough he’ll start snorting

  • 50% of the time he won’t notice because he’s too busy laughing
  • The other 50% he’ll stop and frown in disgust at his own snort

★ He found out Shiro poured his milk in before the cereal and kicked him out their dorm

Matt: Hey, Shiro, want to stay for dinner?
Colleen: Do you want to stay forever?

★ Iverson lowkey reminds him of Snape, so by default he just doesn’t like him

★ “Work, work!” “Matthew!”
    “Work, work!” “Katherine!”
    “,,,,,and Keith”
    “The conspiracy theorists!”

★ Unlike his sister, he likes to garden and starts one in their backyard with their mom

★ Matt would totally force Shiro to cosplay Team Rocket for Halloween with Pidge being Meowth and Keith being an edgier version of Ash Ketchum

  • Shiro as Jessie and Matt as James of course

★ He owns every pokemon game in existence

  • Pokemon Snap was his shit when he was like 7
  • He 360 noscoped the Pokemon with apples

★ Has read all of the Harry Potter books three times

★ He tried to teach Shiro how to dance

  • They never finished though because neither of them could take the sexual tension

★ He was more into the galaxies and multiple universes part of space, while Katie was excited for the tech advances 

  • They were both 100% ready for aliens though

★ Shiro told him he couldn’t create the Marauders Map, so he did out of spite

★ Talked in nothing but Shakespeare for a day to piss off Katie

★ He loved ducktales

  • Too bad he can’t see the reboot

★ Barbie and the 12 dancing princesses was his shit

★ When Katie was born, he brought a potato with him when he went to the hospital to compare the two

★ He always wore sweaters that didn’t quite fit him, so he could have Sweater Paws

★ There was a supposed ‘haunted’ house on his street, so him Katie and the Broganes all snuck out to investigate

  • A window broke while they were in there
  • Keith shapeshifted into Sonic and bolted, Katie started hysterically crying and laughing at the same time as she ran, and Matt jumped into Shiro’s arm and Shiro fuckin’ booked it
  • They all agreed not to talk about it

★ Once in gym, a ball was about to hit someone in the face but instead of yelling “duck!” he yelled “dICK”

  • To this day no one has let him live it down

★ Uses an absurd amount of emoticons when texting

★ 10/10 would meme again

★ Used the word “Yo” too many times to count

★ Tried to bury Katie underneath a bunch of snow when she was 10

★ He can’t swim

★ He’s cried during nearly every Disney and Pixar movie


[Read Part Two// Post-Kerberos! Matt HC here!]

“A Secret That’s Worth It” Carl x Reader, Negan x Reader

Word Count: 9,670

Negan x Daughter Reader, Carl x Reader

Summary: You’re Negan’s teenage daughter and from the minute you saw Carl, he sparked your interest, leading to a relationship between you two.

Warnings: Language, fluff, angst, mentions of death, kinda smutty 

A/N: Does not follow the show exactly, I had to change up some things for the sake of the story, but I tried to make it as close as possible.


Originally posted by lets-letmeimagine-posts

Originally posted by lets-letmeimagine-posts


He was the first person you noticed when you stepped out of that RV.

He was wearing a flannel and a cowboy hat, and even with one of his eyes covered up and it being dark out, you could see how bright blue they were. You didn’t know his name, but you certainly were attracted to him.

Your father, Negan, had told you to stay inside the RV while he went out there and talked to them. He had told you that he was going to kill one of them and that he didn’t want you to see that, so you needed to stay away.

“Y/N, I do not want to see you out there. Your ass better stay in here, alright?” Negan had warned you. You didn’t listen. You had heard him talking to their group, and you got curious. All you wanted to do was see what they looked like, nothing more. You opened the door slightly and peeked your head out, making the attractive boy turn his head and look at you. They all did, but he was the only one you noticed.

“Dear daughter, did I not tell you to stay inside?” Negan bellowed. You knew he was trying to scare the group- that was his way of being a big, bad leader. He intimidates everyone. And by the look of everyone’s face, they were definitely afraid.

Keep reading

The terrible life of Lena Luthor

And why I love her so much and she deserves the world.

First, let’s keep in mind that canonically Lena’s only 24 years old, according to the show’s timeline.

Now, in season 2 Lena was in 12 episodes. During those episodes, she was in danger/manipulated/hurt (physically and emotionally) 37 times.  Specifically, she almost died 8 times and in 5 of those times she was the target. She was hit once and knocked down and kidnapped twice.

Her own bother was the one behind the attempts against her life at the beginning . She was also constantly manipulated and lied to by her mother and later by her new mother figure/mentor. So it’s usually people close to her and people that she cares about  who end up hurting her.

Let’s also remember that the events of season two happened in less than a year! I wonder how she seems so unfazed by all of her trauma. You would think she would at least have some kind of PTSD by now. Then again, this show hasn’t been great at tackling this subject.

Also, from what we’ve seen of season three this trend of her almost dying and getting hurt isn’t going to stop. What does she have to do to get a break?! I think it’s fair to say that Lena seriously needs a therapist and a bodyguard. Also all the love.

Let’s break down everything she’s been through (that we know) and who she is despite all of that. With gifs! 


Before National City. 

- Her biological mother died when she was four.

- Lionel lied to her and never told her he was her biological father.

- Was given the cold shoulder by Lillian and was constantly manipulated and reminded that she wasn’t a real Luthor.

- The brother she loved turned out to be evil.

- After her brother went to jail and she took over Luthor Corp her boyfriend at the time made her choose between him and her family’s company.


Now, during the show:

2x01

1. She was supposed to be on the Venture.

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Douchebag gets it....

So this happened quite a few years ago, and the stage will take some setting. It might be more of a Karma than a Revenge story, but you guys seem to appreciate it when a Douchebag takes it up the ass, so here’s a fine tale…

I was working as a dishwasher in a new Fine Dining restaurant in the downtown of a largish city. Chef Paul came from a rich family with a lot of connections, but he made his own way through culinary school and was both talented and dedicated to his art. His family ponied up the cash for a location right downtown in Office Tower Land, but Chef Paul made the place the “hotspot” for the movers and shakers of the town. Our clientele was the Rolex set, people with a string of initials on their business cards and high-powered job titles.

Chef Paul was the nicest guy you could imagine away from the restaurant, but when he was on the cookline, he was an aggressive and abrupt bully of the old school. It was an open kitchen, meaning you could see it from the dining room, so he never raised his voice, but he could chew you out in a low-volume whisper, all the time with a poker smile frozen on his face. This was his show, his restaurant, his baby, and woe be it to the person who fucked up while Chef Paul had his game face on.

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{PART 17} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; As Taehyung finally reveals his creation to you - you find yourself sharing soft, tender and heartfelt moments with both him and Jimin; before being reunited with Jungkook - The Prince and Princess of the Ball.

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} // {Part 16} {Part 17} {Part 18}

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the spy au that @philosophium ordered !!


Andrew slips through a slit in the crowd, brushing through the sleek trains of expensive gowns, rich wool suits jackets catching on his own. He’s on his second flute of champagne, and the tartness keeps him focused. His attention is on the flavour and the rim of the glass and the warp of faces through it. His earpiece crackles and whispers.

He can see his mark on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by servers and liars and pretty things. One of them is all three, Andrew can tell: a waiter’s vest, a seam of over-applied foundation, and bright blue eyes.

He’s distracting, flighty, a rubber band pulled all the way back. He looks like the memory of a case file, and a name occurs to Andrew one second before Kevin hisses it into his ear.

“It’s fuckin’ Charlie Pilot. Don’t engage, Minyard, we’re not here for him.”

Andrew doesn’t make any effort to reply, just takes another pull of champagne. He’s not really watching the troupes of entertainers or the clockwork security or the velvet and silk blooming under bowing chandeliers. He’s not even watching the man he’s either going to rob or kill, who’s laughing and weedy, red in the face from the alcohol. He’s stuck on Pilot –  next to his target, holding a heavily stocked tray of appetizers, his expression pleasant and empty.

He’ll be an irritant to what should be a straightforward plan, if he keeps hovering. Andrew takes a loaded step forward and the voice in his ear complains.

“Don’t even think about moving in until Pilot leaves. He’s probably doing reconnaissance for Matt. I bet he doesn’t even know about the file.”

Andrew watches Pilot’s face tick, the way he blinks like he’s on a timer, the way he’s worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth.

“I bet he does,” Andrew murmurs, and he drains the last of the champagne. He plucks his tie pin away from the fabric and drops it in the empty glass, leaving it on a passing tray.

“What— what the fuck Minyard, we’ve lost visuals. Do you hear me? Andrew? Andrew?”

Andrew weaves through the rest of the golden crowd, ignoring the buzz of Kevin’s reprimands in his ear. He finds a new spot on the outskirts of the crowd where Pilot has installed himself.

“Do you know how fucking expensive those cameras are? You’re such a piece of shit operative,” Kevin says. “When you inevitably come back without the intelligence and without our equipment, it’s costing us to keep you around, do you realize that?”

Andrew’s more focused on the way Pilot’s shoulders are turning to face him, the slim line of his tailored pants, that eyelash-thick smudge of un-blended make up.

“Shrimp?” Pilot offers, swaying the tray in his direction.

“No,” Andrew says, but he stays uncomfortably near, feeling along the edges of his boundaries without finding any seams. Pilot’s composure is still and reserved as a frost-ravaged garden.

“Have a good evening then,” Pilot says graciously, turning back towards the host that Andrew should be sizing up but hasn’t even looked at. He glances at him for a sliver of a moment, finds himself uninterested, and looks back at Pilot.

Andrew catches him suddenly by the arm, but relaxes his grip just as quickly, caught off guard by his own impulsivity. His own disguise is just an invitation and sun bleached hair; he isn’t playing a character like Pilot is. He’s neutral for a living, but Pilot is a new weight on his scale, unbalancing him so that he can’t quite settle at zero.

When their eyes meet, the polite, curious waiter snips out of existence. Charlie Pilot stares at Andrew, with eyes like the bluest part of a fire.

“There’s a conflict of interest,” he tells Andrew calmly. “And your interest will lose.”

“I’m not interested in anything,” Andrew says broadly.

“Hm,” Pilot says, unconvinced. “You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie,” Andrew says. He’s always saying it; it’s a novelty that employers enjoy and enemies challenge, amused.

Pilot raises his jaw, mouth twitching. “No, you wouldn’t, would you.” His eyes flicker to the side of Andrew’s face, where Kevin is breathing furiously through his earpiece, then down to the grip he still has on his forearm. He lowers his tray down until the rough edge is pressed to the root of Andrew’s hand threateningly. “You’ll want to let me go, Andrew, or you’re going to end up needing a longer armband.”

Andrew feels genuine surprise squeeze his fingers around Pilot’s wrist. He hadn’t noticed the black fabric extending a whiff beyond his crisp white sleeve. He lets go, and Pilot tucks his shoulders back, satisfied. His hair is too dark to match his freckles, Andrew notes quietly. It is, perhaps, what the make up was meant to cover up.

“You are not going to win, Charlie,” Andrew says. “We’re the more capable team.”

Pilot smiles indulgently. “‘Charlie’,” he repeats, mouth curling around the name. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been Charlie Pilot.” He jostles his tray from one hand to another, and loosens his collar with his freed hand. “And I don’t think you understand how much farther ahead we are than you. If you’re looking for information, we already have it. If you’re trying to find the connections this place has to the Yakuza, we’re the ones undoing them.”

“Who’s we? I don’t remember seeing anything about loyalty in your case file. You’re just a runner.”

Pilot looks briefly bothered by this, and he juts his chin again. “I’m loyal to whoever’s doing the work that needs to be done.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

He looks down, at Andrew’s empty hands, at the hip where he’s hiding his gun. His expression is warped and sad when he looks up, like the real filling in his strange costume is finally oozing out.

“You can call me Neil,” he says, and drops the whole tray of food so that it clatters and rolls into the host’s feet. There are gasps and yelps, partygoers dodging and stooping to catch the runaway platter. Andrew looks impulsively down to track its progress, and when he looks sharply back up into the knot of activity, Neil is gone. Of course he is.

He doesn’t have time to think about where he might have disappeared to, just steps neatly into the opportunity that’s been afforded to him. He uses the distraction as a doorway directly into the offices behind the coddled host.

Kevin is asking repeatedly for updates, and Andrew fishes the earpiece out and tucks it into his breast pocket. He likes to be alone for this part, when the most important door closes behind him and everything makes as much sense as a ticking clock.

He keeps thinking of Neil’s reaction to ‘runner’, of the vulnerability trussed up in his persona. He finds himself sick to his stomach wanting to know what his real hair colour is.

He tries every door in the polished row of them, finding all of them locked. He picks the lock on the door farthest from the burble of the ballroom behind him, and cracks into what looks like a room built for business arrangements and drinking. There’s a snifter next to a half dozen tumblers on a cart along the wall, and extensive cabinets under the desk.

He feels his way along the underside of the desk, and opens each drawer, idealistically left unlocked and unprotected. He finds useless information and shady information and heaps of anonymous, unlabeled tapes.

He finds the safe in the floor, facing up patiently under a wingback chair and a panel of floorboard. He stoops so that he’s face to face with it, shrugs his jacket off like a dead skin onto the floor, and puts the heart of a stethoscope to the face of the safe.

He’s sweating, spread out surreptitiously on the floor, but the safe is flimsy. It cracks in under an hour, the party wilting two rooms over, pressure taking him by the hair. Andrew flicks the door open impatiently, unwinding the stethoscope from around his neck.

It’s filled top to bottom with paper, and he reaches for the first file, carding his fingers through the spill of sheets.

Got you, it says. Over and over again, in unassuming little typescript. And on the next page, got you.

Andrew’s fingers flex. The next file is the same, and the next. A million taunting, twirling repetitions: got you. Got this. Got here first.

The safe was already cracked. The list of names was already stolen. Neil’s face winks and swarms when he closes his eyes, furious. If you’re looking for information, we already have it.

He roots around for the bud in his pocket and pops it back into his ear. He leans back, splayed away from the spill from the safe, the stacks of failure. He enunciates clearly into the microphone sewn into his collar.

“We have to find Neil.”

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Flirt (Intro)

intro one two three four
genre:
fuckboy!jungkook, college!au, smut?, angst?
words: 1.9k
member: jungkook (ft. taehyung)

despising jeon jungkook as he hooks up and steals your best friend away from you. 

(credits to gif owner for the gif that kills all)

Originally posted by bangtanofarmys

Jeon Jungkook.

The man who every girl on campus had an eye on, along with his crew of other fuckboys. He would show up on campus with different girls everytime, wrapping their arms around his frame, “claiming him”.

You despised him though, because his next target was your best friend.

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Bruised (Richie/Eddie) 4/12

Summary: It’s 1993 and the summer from many years ago is dead and gone. Many have drifted apart from the Losers club and its at the point where there is no club at all. The atmosphere is cold just like the winter months and the only blushes to be found are the ones that are caused from the piercing spikes of cold that heat skin up. Being a teenage boy is hard; especially for the two boys that now count each other as strangers. In which both boys make a plan, but both disrupt each others.

Warning(s): Angst & Fluff

A/N: Shout out to @eddiekaspbraks for making THIS moodboard of this fanfiction series, it’s amazing and gO SEND THIS LOVELY BABE SOME LOVE !!  BONUS POINTS IF ANYONE CAN GUESS WHAT SONG I WAS LISTENING TO WHILST WRITING RICHIE’S DESCRIPTION THROUGH EDDIE’S PERSPECTIVE

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 (Soon) | 

It was now Monday morning and Eddie felt his numb fingertips jitter at the seams of his jumper, feeling the weaves under his senseless skin without his pulse guiding him. 

The pills were messing him up. Bad.

His doctor had prescribed the soft pink and white capsules in order to stop being gay, as if what he had was some sick mental illness. Eddie’s mother thought he was twisted, that the rumours weren’t true and that people were lying about her pride and joy. Several days later she realised that Eddie was in fact a homosexual boy. However, she refused to believe it and dragged him to every therapist and doctor in order to ‘save’ him.

He didn’t need saving, he was gay and that was that. He had only told Bill, Ben, Mike and Stan but somehow the word got around school, eventually a teacher had confronted his mother about the matter. He didn’t mean for everyone to know, but now that everyone did- the reaction he got towards his sexuality choice was repulsive.

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Captain Finstock is furious.

“Great job, you bunch of morons! Got yourself into a hostage situation, almost got half of the team killed, and now we have to babysit a pack of FBI agents because you are so damn incompetent! And no, Hale, you do not get to opt out of this bullshit because a fed stole your beanie! In fact, I’mma pair you up with him, what was his name, Bilinski? Yes, the doe-eyed one. How old is he anyway, do they hire kids right out of kindergarten now? God, I don’t have enough booze to cover this shit. Could be better off coaching teenagers in a high school probably. Now, get out of my office!”

What a way to start a Monday.

**

“I didn’t know a beanie and a hoodie are new FBI style,” Derek all but seethes.  

“Says a detective wearing his own initial on his belt.”

Derek follows Stilinski’s gaze to his crotch and blushes, “That’s not … that’s not for “Hale”, it’s for “Hermes”.

“Oh, an officer who knows couture? I’m impressed!“ And then the bastard winks.

Derek mentally punches a wall.

**

In theory, having a team of FBI agents helping you with a case can be a good thing, because, well, they have more resources, and a much larger database, and cooler toys. On practice though, it is a giant pain in the ass, mainly because Derek hates his new partner.

Well, no, Derek doesn’t hate him, it’s Derek’s balls that hate him. The brat (what kind of a name is Stiles Stilinski anyway?) is not just cute and smart and knows how to make killer lattes, he is also obnoxious and flirts with Derek all the time, and has an obscene mouth and fingers Derek can’t even look at, because those long dexterous fingers do things to Derek, and at this point Derek’s balls are not just blue, they are pitch black and about to fall off.

Derek might have ripped several bedsheets with his erection and may or may not have considered billing Stilinski for them.

He decides against it, and instead chooses to channel his frustration into anger and into being a dick.

That doesn’t help.

In fact, it just makes things worse. The more frustrated and angry Derek gets, the flirtier Stiles becomes. It’s ridiculous, like trying to put out a fire by throwing gasoline at it.

Finally, frustration boils over and Derek all but slams the younger man into a wall while no one’s looking. He gets into Stiles’s face, pointing an accusational finger at him like a gun, and tells him all he thinks about flowers, handcuff hearts, chocolates, winks, air kisses and all other crap Stilinski has been pulling on him since day one. He has enough, he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t want it, and …

Derek is surprised to see how hurt Stiles looks. He expects anything from a sucker punch to a fist to his face, but Stiles just whispers liar and leaves.

Derek would’ve preferred a sucker punch.

**

I’m such an idiot!

Derek cusses himself while camaro slithers through empty streets. What a shitty detective is he if he can’t recognize a genuine crush over a prank? Worse even, Stiles is right- he is a liar. He should be sucking Stiles off right now instead of going back to an empty loft.

His self-loathing is cut short by a truck ramming into his side.

**

Derek loses track of time after about a week. After all, it is hard to tell day from night when you are lying semi-conscious in a windowless basement.

Well, if it is how Derek goes out, so be it, he can’t cheat death forever. He wishes he could cheat it long enough to tell Stiles he likes him though. May be even loves him. But, with Hale luck ™ , he likely won’t even have a chance to say good bye.

He hears his captors chatting near the cell, clanking tools. Oh, another round of torture, how terrific.

And then something goes wrong, there are screams and shouting and gunfire and the cell door busts open and it’s actually Stiles, his Stiles, hair disheveled, with stubble and dark circles under his eyes, and he looks livid.  Derek tries to scream, to warn Stiles one of the terrorists is launching at him from behind but Stiles just grabs the man and breaks his neck without even looking because his eyes never leave Derek’s face.

Derek would probably coming all over himself now if not for the extensive blood loss.

**

Stiles drags him out through fire and dead bodies and drops him into an ambulance before Derek gets a chance to say thank you.

**

When Derek comes back, things are different. Stiles is still friendly and cooperative but now he is, for a lack of a better word, professional. No winks, no kissy faces, no more trying to sit on Derek’s lap – only business. Basically, this is everything Derek had asked for.

And Derek wants to scream.

When Captain Finstock calls him to his office and tells him, “I don’t know what the hell you did, Hale, but you better fix it soon, because your lovers spat is freaking me out”,  Derek realizes how royally he screwed up.

**

It takes a mind of a genius and a healthy dose of gay juju to properly apologize to Stiles, and Derek now owes a case of champagne to Dr. Martin and a new Prada wallet to Danny from cyber crime, but sleepy warm Stiles is cuddling him in his bed, so all of that was totally worth it.

Stiles nuzzles Derek’s neck and mumbles, “I can hear you thinking.”

Derek smiles, kisses him and goes back to sleep.

13.02 coda

Thank you guys so much for all the love last week! As always, if you’d like to be added to or removed from the taglist, please send me a message <3

“Dean! Oh my - ”

Dean storms right past Sam and dumps Jack’s bloody knife in the sink. He doesn’t look at him as he turns on the water, but it doesn’t matter. Sam’s already up out of his seat and crowding against him along the counter.

“I knew you were in bad way after Cas but, Dean, I thought you were dealing - ”

Dean rolls his eyes. “It’s not mine,” he snaps, turning over his shoulder. Bright red blood pools in the sink as the faucet rushes over it.

Sam, still gaping, manages to narrow his eyes as his alarm fades away. “What did you do?”

Dean frowns. “Nothing. Why do you think that I - ”

Sam sags then, his body collapsing into itself all at once before he pulls himself to his full height. His eyes melt into that deplorable sad puppy dog look, the kind of look that’s going to turn into guilt some day. “Oh no. Oh, Jack…”

Dean shakes his head. “He’s fine, Sam. Obviously. You know damn well something like this couldn’t do any serious damage.”

Just like that, the puppy look slips away. Sam glares. His lip curls and his eyes narrow and he leans forward in the meanest way that Dean has ever seen from him. For a second he actually wonders if Sam’s going to hit him.

“You think I only care if he’s hurt? You think - Dean, that kid is suicidal now. He’s not even a week old and he - ”

Sam suddenly cuts off and wipes his face with his hand. 

“You know what?” he says. “You’re seriously messed up, man. You have a problem, and - don’t look at me like that - and you need to stay the hell away from Jack from now on.”

Dean lets the water run. Low and dark, he murmurs, “I have a problem?”

“Yeah, Dean, you do,” Sam snaps. “You didn’t see him out there, terrified and alone. He thinks you hate him. I’m starting to think that maybe you’re the one with no soul around here.”

He leaves the room, stomping away in a huff, and Dean knows that he’s headed off to Jack’s room. He’s going to clean up the mess, he’s going to try and soothe all the wounds that aren’t visible. Sam’s good like that, and he just doesn’t know when to quit.

Dean stares down into the drain, pink-dyed water circling the abyss. 

“I don’t have a fucking problem,” he insists, but it’s only to an empty room.

He shuts off the water and leaves the knife in the sink.

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A very long time ago @jennthereaper and @simplyn2deep both sent me this prompt, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long, but the other day I was finally inspired to take a stab at it. I hope you enjoy!

From The Way You Said “I Love You” 

#26 Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave

Please, Derek, please, I–“ Stiles chokes back the beginnings of tears and clutches harder at the sleeve of Derek’s jacket. He’s on his knees, having tripped in his scramble to get to Derek from the other side of the loft. “I love you, okay? And I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I’ve been a coward about this whole thing, but I love you. And I know you love me too. I know you do, and I need you not to leave like this, fuck, Derek, please don’t do this.”

Derek stares down at him for a long time, heart clenched in his throat.

And then he looks up at where the other Stiles is pursing his lips in a hard frown as he watches the scene.

“It isn’t real?” Derek asks for the hundredth time since the other Stiles, the real Stiles, showed up in this apparent dreamscape.

Stiles shakes his head stiffly.

The Stiles on the floor is still pleading with him around tears, but the noises of his despair are starting to fade, as if Derek were now hearing him from a distance. Even his heartbeat, a sound that Derek has been clinging to as an anchor for what feels like forever, begins to disappear.

Derek swallows and steels himself against feeling anything more than determination to get through this newest mess.

“What now?” he asks, tone clinical and firm.

Stiles answers him in a similar tone, his expression betraying nothing about what’s going on in his own head. A far cry from the Stiles that Derek first met a couple years ago, terrified and mouthy and young. “Now you wake up.”

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My take on the “Neil dies in Baltimore” au:

Here’s a list of reasons why Andrew is considering death-by-FBI-agent-who-won’t-shut-up:

  1. Neil is dead.
  2. Neil obviously knew he was going to die, since he made sure to break his contract with Andrew.
  3. He didn’t catch the strain in Neil’s voice when he said “You were amazing” until later, when it was too late.
  4. Now that it’s too late, he can’t stop hearing it. That little waver, like it meant more than it was saying, which now he knows it was but he was too fucking dense to realize it.
  5. Even after the disappearance, even after hours of nothing and then the FBI call and Kevin’s stupid confession and stupid throat (which he fully intends to come back to crushing later), Neil was alive.
  6. But not long enough for them to reach the hospital.

And now here they are, in the hospital lobby, being talked down to by an idiot in a suit trying to make excuses for why the FBI needs his body.

“He is ours,” Dan growls. Actually growls. “You said his father is dead now, and his mother’s been dead for years, so that means we’re his closest family.”

But all Agent Dick dous is raise an eyebrow. “How do you know that Mary Wesninski is dead?” It has the clearly desired effect of shutting Dan up. There are a thousand innocent answers to that question, but they’re Foxes. Nobody ever gives them the benefit of the doubt.

“We need to conduct a full autopsy, get a clearer picture of what was done to him. We’ll hand him over to you post-cremation.”

Matt shakes his head. “Not good enough.”

“You all need to get this into your heads: Neil Josten isn’t real and never was. He was a halfway decent cover that, honestly, probably would’ve been passable if he hadn’t thrown caution to the wind time and again over the past year. He was playing a part, and now he’s dead, and those are the facts.”

Andrew is aware that they’re talking about a corpse, but that complete disregard for who Neil was makes him want to rip out the man’s throat. Anger colors his vision red, but it’s better this way. Because as soon as the red leaves, the gray will settle in, and it will never, ever go away.

“Here’s another fact,” Agent Dick continues. “People don’t spend months in close company of others without letting something slip. So I’m going to need all of you to come in and te—”

“That’s enough, Agent Browning,” a new voice calls to them. A second later, a woman appears next to the agent, towering over him by a good half a foot. “Say another word to them and I’ll personally make sure that anything they say becomes inadmissible in court.” She turns to the Foxes. “Hi, sorry, I’m Ms. Waters. I was — still is, technically — Nathaniel’s lawyer.”

Kevin’s face goes ashy, likely imagining the worst. “He was here for six hours before dying. Why the hell would he need a lawyer?”

Ms. Waters pulls out several small white envelopes by way of response. “Because he didn’t trust Agent Chucklehead over hear to not open these before you recieved them.” She hands each Fox their own envelope, with their name written on the front in Neil’s familiar scrawl. Wymack doesn’t get an envelope.

It makes Andrew’s chest ache and his heart boil, and he doesn’t trust himself to speak. He knows what’s inside that letter: a sequel and an epilogue. All of Neil’s bullshit sap wrapped in a promise that he’ll never have it again. He doesn’t even know wether he wants to read it or tear it into a million pieces. Probably both.

“—two requests,” it takes Andrew a second to register that Ms. Waters is talking again. “That you read your letters in private, and that you destroy them after reading. Preferably with fire.” She smiles at their confused stares and nods at Agent Dick. “Browning here is a man of many words, but he spends very few eandearing himself to others. Nathaniel was likely afraid that he would try to read them.

“In any case, I’ll be in touch soon. Nathaniel left a great deal behind, and while the FBI can scramble over his past, it’s my job to sort out his present, and that means you.” She gives Wymack a teal business card. “In case you need me urgently, in the case I don’t contact you first. Now run along, you were all injured and in need of rest.”


The bus ride back to Palmetto is silent, but nobody is asleep. Like Andrew, they all sit on their individual benches, staring at their letters, trying to decide wether they wan’t to know or not. Is it an explanation? Apology? Questions too big for the heart to ask or recieve an answer to.

In the end, it’s Nicky who breaks the silence. “I know he said to read them alone, but… anybody want to open their’s with me? I just. I can’t. Not alone. Not on this.”

There’s silence again, but then Renee comes to sit next to Nicky, and then Allison, and the next thing he knows he, Kevin, and Aaron are the only ones not crowded together in a massive group hug. There’s sniffling, then a countdown from three, and the sound of several envelopes tearing and pages unfolding. And then silence again.

And then.

And then.

Dan’s been captain of the Foxes for years, but Andrew doesn’t think he’s ever heard her yell that loudly as her ARE YOU SHITTING ME vibrates throughout the bus. The rest of the Foxes are quick to follow with their own sounds of anger and disbelief.

It’s when Nicky starts laughing hysterically that Andrew finally succumbs to his curiousity and opens the letter, skimming over the words.

Andrew is going to fucking kill that boy when he gets his hands on him.
Min Yoongi, Library Services

Author: @kpopfanfictrash as part of Bangtan University - a series of ongoing one shots with @eradikeats-writes

Creative Content Contributors: @daegusoftboys  (her moodboards for the series are perfection)

Pairing: Reader / Yoongi

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex, light voyeurism)

Word Count: 7,364

Summary: When you accept the the offered research position at Bangtan University, you are well aware of your partner’s prestige. The only problem is - so is he.

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Makin’ Magic Happen

Porn Star!Sam x Porn Star!Reader AU—So entirely NSFW

Originally posted by itsokaysammy

Summary: You get to work with Sammy Winchester for the first time, Mr. Big Cock Super Star
Pairing: Sam/Reader
Word Count: 5.9k
Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (both female and male receiving), kinda choking, hair pulling, spanking (like, only one little spank, but it’s a good one), come play. It’s filthy porn, y’all.
A/N: This is the prelude to a series I’m currently working on. So, get used to reading Sam as a porn star. And maybe—just maybe—some other spn characters as well. Guess you’ll have to wait ;)
update: some users have had trouble opening the fic on Tumblr, so here is the AO3 link if you find yourself unable to open it as well. Sorry for the inconvience!


You walk on set in your typical fashion—hair tied up in a messy bun, prescription glasses resting on the bridge of your nose, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with a grande latte with double espresso in your freshly manicured hand. Part of you dreads how long the day is going to be with shooting and scene preparation, while the other part buzzes with excitement.

“You ready for your scene today?” Penny, your agent, asks, face glowing with just as much excitement. You give her an enthusiastic smile and a quick nod. “Good,” she smiles back, hands coming up to grab at your shoulders, her deep green eyes catching yours. “Sammy’s the best in the business. I hear his cock’s insured for a million dollars.”

“That seems a bit drastic,” you murmur before finishing off your latte.

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13 | You’ll Never Walk Alone

BTS + GOT7 X READER [GANG!AU]

WORD COUNT: 5,345

series warnings: mature themes, strong language, violence, substance abuse, eventual smut. this chapter contains graphic content such as violence, gruesome torture, death, blood, wound details and grief

Originally posted by manwalage

masterlist | ask | prev | next

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