i know the pants thing was idiotic

PSA to aphobes or whatever you idiots call yourselves.

Apparently “pee your pants” is a significant thing going around tumblr now, but because I follow a lot of ace discourse blogs (look, I know, I like to torture myself), I see it mostly used in the “exclusionist” community when they have no rebuttal for an argument.

Anyways, I just want to tell my story. When I was working at this Asian restaurant for a part time summer job last year, my co-worker bailed on me. I was the host that night, right? And an 8-top came in while I was on the phone. Right in front of me they just kept talking and talking while I put the person on the phone.
You probably saw where this is going, but I literally did it. Right then and there I pissed my pants. You guys are probably laughing at it, but it was mortifying. I had to grab one of our menu boards and put it in front of my short shorts and walk quietly around.
The entire situation was mortifying. I still have to live with that experience to this day. To people who say “pee your pants is tumblr’s new kill yourself”: no, you fucking morons. It’s worse.

You guys will probably read this and reblog it with “pee your pants” because that’s how you guys are. But whatever. When has Tumblr ever listened to anyone else’s experiences? Goodnight.

Manspreading is NOT real.

So there is this infamous buzzfeed video called “women try manspreading” and I can tell you it’s one of the most idiotic things ever. So in the video, one of the women describes manspreading as “taking up as much space as humanly possible”. So that right there is already a red flag. So the most obvious reason why men spread their legs is because they need room for their genitals, I mean it’s common sense. Ladies if you don’t know thats like just put tennis balls in your pants and try putting your legs together. So anyway the so called manspreading that they show in the video is not even taking up space. It’s ridiculous how these women complain about petty things. And later when one of the women was on the train she wasn’t even manspreading she just put her legs on the seat and they were crossed. These women shouldn’t even complain they do the same exact thing but with purses, sure they don’t take up that much space , but it’s the same thing it’s not a problem. So the moral of this is that manspreading is just an excuse for feminist to complain about even though it is not real, men I understand your pain so feel free to keep doing what you’re doing.

Keep Calm - Yondu x Reader - SFW

Pairing: Yondu Udonta x Reader

Word Count: ~1,800

Summary: Request for a fic where Reader is quite an anxious thing, and although she works as the Ravager’s tailor, she just can’t calm down around Yondu. Yondu notices she’s terrified of her, and is afraid that he’s scared her off with all of his advances.

Warnings: Mild language. Yondu being a cheeseball.

Keep reading

Two months

genre: Baekhyun Fluff
type: drabble/scenario
characters: Kyungsoo, EXO, reader
Do not re-post without permission or use in any way, this is my work. 
To the anon that requested this: thank you hun :3 honestly I don’t know how I keep up with this either, but here I am xd Hope you are having a good day too! Xoxo, Ara~

“Baekie? Where are you taking me?” You said not being able to see anything.
“Shh.. just wait, you’ll see!” Baekhyun had wrapped some old scarf around your head, hiding your eyes under it to keep you from peeking. 
“But.. how long has it been? Please… at least give me a hint!” You whined, hoping it would work with him.
“Aish.. fine… I can tell you that you’ll love it. We are almost there.” You could imagine him smiling in that moment, you saw in your head the adorable rectangle smile that made his lips so unique. “You’ll see…”

Keep reading


Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Kells was in the middle of his interview and the rest of the guys were just roaming around or loafing somewhere.

So you had the whole bus to yourself, you laid in your “bed” and just enjoyed your music. It was just what you needed to keep your mind off Kells and last night.


You jumped up and just barely missed bumping the hell out of your head, you look over and see Kells coming in.

‘You’re supposed to be getting interviewed.’ you said sternly.

‘Dub told you it was gonna run an half hour longer than it actually would. (Y/N) we have to talk about last night.

‘You realize you’re wasting valuable tour time, we could be on our way to the next town right now.’ you said, ignoring his last sentence completely.

‘We can spare thirty minutes, this bus isn’t going anywhere until you talk to me.’ Kells said firmly.

You groaned as you ran your hands through your hair.

‘There is nothing to talk about, you were drunk, I’m a virgin, nothing happened.’ you said.

‘Something did happen, I made you uncomfortable and I crossed the line with you. And I’m sorry.’ Kells apologized.

‘You don’t have to be, I’m not mad at you or anything. That wasn’t the first time I’d been in a situation like that, wont be the last. I was just embarrassed that you knew my secret.’ you admitted.

‘I’m not gonna tell anyone, I swear.’ Kells said as he sat next to you.

‘I appreciate that, really I do.’ you said gratefully.

‘If you don’t mind me asking, why haven’t you done it yet? You don’t really strike me as the religious type.’

‘Oh God no, it’s not a religious choice, and I honestly don’t think it abstinence either. I’m not waiting til marriage or anything, I just…’ you sighed and shook your head.

‘You just what?’ Kells asked.

‘I don’t feel like anyone would want to do that with me.’ you confessed.

‘Well clearly you’re wrong.’ he smiled.

‘No I mean, like I know that I’m no sloth or something, and I do dress well, but I’ve never let anyone see me naked. I feel like if I were to let someone see all of me they wouldn’t like what they saw.’ you explained.

You had always felt these things, but saying them out loud to someone else made it all feel too real.

‘That’s crazy, you’re gorgeous, and anyone who says or thinks otherwise is an idiot.’

‘Thanks, you’re sweet, but I wasn’t fishing for compliments.’ you smiled sadly.

‘I’m serious you are beautiful and some guy out there knows it. Maybe you should try and get out there, find that guy that’s gonna make you see how beautiful you are.’ Kells said, genuinely.

You were confused by his sweet words.

Plenty of guys had told you basically the same thing, but they were all just trying to get in your pants or trying to get nudes. Kells seemed to be wholeheartedly telling you that you were beautiful with no ulterior motive.

‘Yeah, maybe I should.’ you smiled.

GSW: Code Red

Genre: Fluff; Medical Student!AU

Pairing: Reader X Min Yoongi |Suga

Word Count: 600-ish

Warning: Attempts at humor, Yoongi being annoying

Drabble Game Prompts: They were looking at each other with the intensity usually reserved for bomb de-fusion. + “Stop talking about love for a minute and help me with this bullet wound.”

Originally posted by jeonbase

“Alright, kids!” Your head shot up when the professor slammed his whiteboard duster down on the table with all his strength, “Good luck on your assignment! Please note that you will be timed for this as well, and if you take too long, the patient dies and you fail.”

“Wonderful.” Yoongi muttered from beside you, and it took all you had not to cuff his head, “We’re probably going to fail.”

“The fuck?” The kid seated across from the two of you snapped, eyes dark, “I didn’t ask to be put with you either, loser.”

“Who’re you calling a loser, you immature—”

“Alright boys, tone it down.” You interrupted before Yoongi could make him soil his pants or something, “Jaebum, Yoongi, all our fates depend on this, so: shut up.”

“Thank you for your gracious advice,” Yoongi muttered tersely, slipping on his latex gloves, “I hope you two know what you’re doing.”

“Of course, idiot.” You muttered, poking his arm as you eyed the dummies being carried around, “I’ll go get the thing—I mean, our patient—and you can two can sit here, quietly.”

Without waiting for their answer—you weren’t likely going to like it anyway—you quickly stood up, making your way across the room. By the time you got back, however, you wanted to rip your hair out. True to what you said, Jaebum and Yoongi were entirely silent. Instead, they were looking at each other with the intensity usually reserved for bomb de-fusion.

“Kids, please.” You sighed for the billionth time, “We need to actually make this work.”

“I’ll time it,” Yoongi offered—of course he did, the lazy ass—while Jaebum just shook his head, “What do you want from me, you salty cretin?”

“Oh, that’s it!” The dark-haired man cried angrily, and if you hadn’t stepped in, he might have actually climbed over the table to strangle your boyfriend, “Either you shut the fuck up or my fist teaches you how to do it right.”

“We’re all friends here,” You laughed nervously, “Now can someone start timing, so we can actually get out the bullet?”

The bullet was embedded in the dummy’s shoulder, and looked grotesque enough, with spurts of ‘blood’ oozing out, since your professor was always one for the details. You eyed it in mild disgust, before turning to Yoongi.

“Babe, you know how much I love you, right?” You asked innocently, keeping a gracious smile on your face to counter his suspicious look.

“I’m not going to take your place, if that’s what this is about.”

“I love you, Min Yoongi, I love you.”

“Shut up, ugh.”

“Stop talking about love for a minute and help me with this bullet wound!” Your mini-pleading session was cut short by Jaebum’s interruption, and you looked to where he was slumped over the dummy, gloves stained red, “It’s only ketchup, Christ.”

“You ruined the mood.” Yoongi complained half-heartedly, before lightly shoving you off, “Go get that goddamn bullet out, and then we’ll talk.”

The smirk he wore gave you enough of an idea as to what he meant by ‘talking’ and, well, who would deny that?

“Alright, let’s do this!” You prepared your surgical equipment, heart thundering at the thought, “Jaebum, please don’t glare at me, you’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be.”


As it turned out, of course, the three of you failed that. It might have been because your hands were shaky with excitement or because you and Yoongi spent half the time yelling at each other. Either way, Jaebum never really forgave you for it. All thoughts of forgiveness were chucked out of the window at Yoongi’s smirk, though, and the…payment you received after class was spectacular enough for you forgive him.

Well, until you learnt that you needed to write three 4,000 word essays to make up for it. Min Yoongi was reassigned to couch duty after that one.

Written By: Admin Midnight

anonymous asked:

Steve/ Bucky - “i’m a newly-turned werewolf without a pack and i can’t really control myself well on full moon nights yet and you keep finding me passed out naked on your lawn”, please?

Steve?” Bucky’s voice startled Steve out of his doze – he hadn’t meant to fall asleep, he’d intended to stumble to his feet and figure out how to get home before dawn, but it turned out that having all your bones rearranged was exhausting – and he hurriedly rolled to his feet.

Well, he tried to. Mostly he groaned and smashed his face into the dew-drenched grass.


“’m fine,” he told the grass, reveling in the chill of the morning air on his now constantly overheated skin.

“You’re naked and sleeping on my front lawn,” Bucky said, jamming his hands under Steve’s arms and hauling him into a sitting position. “You might be fine now, but you won’t be in thirty minutes when old Mrs. Hannigan across the street wakes up and calls the police.”

Bucky had a point there, Steve admitted. He propped Steve up against his legs and proceeded to towel off Steve’s damp head, as though his best friend turned up naked on his lawn every week. Steve was beginning to think he should have been bitten by a werewolf years ago, if it got Bucky’s hands combing through his hair.

Only, no, because he was naked in Bucky’s yard. His mother was going to kill him.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, pulling Steve to his feet and wrapping the towel around his waist. Steve was relieved that his entire body ached and his right calf was cramping, or the feeling of Bucky’s fingers dragging just over his hipbone might have done him in.

“What do you mean?” Steve replied too fast, tripping over the words. “Nothing’s wrong.” He shook his head hard, and Bucky snorted.

“Punk, you were mooning my Mum over her morning coffee. Nothing’s wrong?” All Steve’s blood rushed to his face, his entire chest flushed red. His mother was going to kill him.

“Uh,” he stuttered. “Just, um, just, it was a really wild night.” Which was true. Steve vaguely recalled hunting for his dinner, and that was pretty wild, as things went.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Pal, it’s a Tuesday. And I’m the quarterback. You’re telling me you went to a party on a Monday night that I didn’t even hear about?”

“Modest, aren’t you?” Steve griped, and Bucky laughed, tilted his head back and chortled at the lightening sky.

Maybe being mauled by a supernatural creature and turned into a ravening beast wasn’t so bad, if it got him Bucky’s smile lit by the dawn.

“Steven,” Mrs. Barnes called, sticking her head out the front door, still in her bathrobe and rollers. “Did you want some toast with those hard-boiled eggs of yours?”

Steve debated taking the towel and making a run for it, despite not knowing where his clothes were or whether he would make it a block before Mrs. Hannigan called the cops.

Bucky had his mother’s diabolical grin, and Steve decided being a werewolf was, in fact, as bad as he had originally thought. Worse, even, because Mrs. Barnes popped him on his towel-clad ass with her morning paper as he slunk inside.


“Is this some sort of cult thing?” Bucky asked, twenty-eight mornings later, chucking a blanket onto Steve and flopping down beside him in the back yard to gaze at the fading violet of the night sky.

“Ungh,” Steve informed him, still trying to breathe through the grinding pain of having his facial bones flattened and his joints broken and reassembled, worse than rheumatic fever and the measles combined.

“Because Mum doesn’t mind when you stay over, but she really prefers it when we’re both inside and you’re wearing clothes. And Dad thinks you’re getting some bad medication.” Bucky paused, reaching out to tug the blanket off Steve’s face – Steve’s asthma had fled with the bite, but Bucky didn’t know that, and something in Steve’s chest warmed at the gesture. “Also,” Bucky added, “Becky is sort of at an impressionable age, and I would really prefer she didn’t see naked people on our lawn. She sees enough of them on the internet.”

Steve choked on his own saliva, and Bucky pounded his back until Steve shoved him away.

He wasn’t actually sure why he kept ending up on Bucky’s lawn. This time he’d even prepared – had borrowed his Ma’s car and driven into the protected forest ten miles away, sure that he would chase rabbits and probably wake up freezing in a river somewhere in the woods.

He really wished there was a werewolf handbook somewhere, to explain these sorts of things.

Bucky slung an arm around Steve’s shoulders, the fabric of his old thermal top scratchy against Steve’s oversensitive skin. “Besides,” Bucky said, “You really shouldn’t be out here at night. Alice and Nonie were toasting marshmallows at the fire pit last night and thought they saw a feral dog.”

Steve’s mouth went dry. Bucky’s baby sisters, the twins, out after dark on the night of a full moon. They would turn eight in a month, and had been begging Steve and Bucky to take them to the amusement park, swearing they were tall enough now for the rollercoasters. He had been living with the Barneses when the girls were born, his Ma still in the hospital with tuberculosis. The twins were the little sisters he’d never had.

And he would have ripped out their throats, hours ago, a feral dog too close to the Barnes home.

“I should go,” he managed, even though he was shaking too hard to stand. Bucky’s arm tightened around his shoulders, and Steve flinched.

“You should come eat some of the pancakes the devil children are making for you,” Bucky contradicted him, leaning his head against Steve’s, pressing comfort into Steve’s skin the way he had through countless childhood illnesses, the way he’d held Steve’s hand in the hospital when they were ten and the doctors thought Steve was going to die. “They added a whole bag of chocolate chips.”

“I –” Steve didn’t know how to say it. I’m dangerous. “Bucky –”

“We’ll figure it out,” Bucky interrupted, wrapping his other arm around Steve’s chest, shifting so that their foreheads were pressed together, his pale eyes boring steadily into Steve’s. “Whatever it is, Steve, we’ll figure it out.”

And Steve wanted so badly for it to be true.


“You moron,” someone said, not for the first time if the tone of voice was anything to go by. “You fucking idiot. These are things you tell your best friend!”

Something in that sentence caught Steve’s attention, even as he lay panting on the ground in the dark, the moon only just below the horizon. Best friend. Shit. Bucky. “I -” he tried to say, but his vocal cords hadn’t finished transforming and all he managed was a faint croak.

Cool, gentle hands slid over his skin, tempering the fiery pain licking through Steve’s muscles and through every pore. “Shh,” Bucky whispered, laying down next to Steve and tugging him into a loose embrace. “Shh, you dumbass, I’ve got you.”

Pain cleared Steve’s head quickly. If Bucky was with him, then he must be in Bucky’s lawn again, despite locking himself in the basement of the abandoned Stark mansion at the edge of town. Damn it. The girls!

“Al – Nonie?” he coughed, struggling weakly in Bucky’s arms.

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky informed him, the same unwavering affection he’d shown Steve since they were five. “You saved their lives, you know?”

Steve frowned, and wiggled around until he was facing Bucky, their noses brushing and Bucky’s eyes almost silver in the dark. “That feral dog they saw last time?” Bucky continued, sure that he had Steve’s attention. “That wasn’t you, punk. That was some other werewolf.” Steve blinked. He hadn’t considered that. Hadn’t even considered that there were more werewolves, beyond the crazed man that had bitten him. “I think you came close to tearing his snout off before he could even think about attacking them. They think we have the best guard dog ever.” Bucky paused, snickering, his breath warm against Steve’s face. “I think they left a bowl of water and a steak bone for you, if you’re hungry.”

Steve scowled at Bucky’s smirk. “This isn’t funny!” he insisted hoarsely. “Bucky, I could –”

“Save my family’s lives?” Bucky finished for him, raising both eyebrows and shaking his head a little, telegraphing his disbelief at the fears teeming in Steve’s eyes. “You’re not a threat, Steve. Not to us.” Bucky kept his eyes on Steve’s, even as he tilted his head just close enough to press his lips to Steve’s in a brief, quiet kiss. Steve dug his fingers into Bucky’s waist and held on.

“Do you boys have condoms?” Mrs. Barnes called through the back door, loud enough to wake the neighborhood and send Steve into another full-body blush – but that was all right. Steve had decided being a werewolf wasn’t so bad, if it put Bucky in his arms and Bucky’s mouth on his.

“I think your father has a box somewhere, from before the vasectomy,” she added. Bucky’s face blanched, and Steve tried to gauge whether his legs would hold him, if he grabbed Bucky’s hand and ran for the hills.

(Why oh why does Tumblr not let me tag you in shit?)

Anywho as I run along this mile and a half long bridge i considered this and decided that yes, this also works. Imagine if you will Prompto returns from running/training with Gladio, a bit battered and bruised but insisting that not only is he fine but Gladio beating the hell out of him was Awesome!

Noctis stared at his boyfriend silently, letting Prompto’s excited praise of Gladio’s form and technique and *stamina* (“He never gets tired! I can run, you know, but I thought I was going to die, I bet he does marathons for fun!”) when finally his head caught up with the curious feeling in his stomach.

He grinned. “You have a thing for Gladio!”

Prompto stopped. Blinked. Went link up to the tips of his ears and started shaking his head so violently Noctis was a little concerned about whiplash. “W-what? Noct that’s…i don’t- you know I’m only interested in you, why would you-”

Noctis waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah yeah, you’re in love with me and think my ass is amazing, i know that ” Prompto sputtered indignantly. “But you like Gladio too. You’re always going on and on about him. And you almost came in your pants when he asked you to that art show-”

“I did not!”

“And you basically feel up all those bruises he gives you.” Noctis added, letting the past few months spin out in his mind through a new lense. “That. Is so cute.”

“Noctis it’s not like…wait. what?”

“You should ask him out. Small and twinky is totally his thing. And artistic; he dated this painter-”


“I know you say tour pictures aren’t an art thing and that you aren’t good but you’re an idiot. But not really, which is good since Gladio likes to talk about books and war history and other boring shit, but you like a lot of boring stuff too. You both like to run and hike, because you’re insane-”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

Noctis paused, blinking in confusion. Prompto had rolled off the bed at some point and looked about two seconds away from tearing out his hair or screaming at him. He tilted to his head to the side, eyebrows jumping up.



“No. It would make having sex later weird if I did.” Prompto let out a slightly alarming gurgling sound. Noctis blinked again. “What’s wrong with you?”

50 Spencer Reid Prompts

Send me some numbers for Spencer imagines!!

1. “This is all your fault.”  “I hope so.”

2. “Don’t mind me. I’ll just be in the corner, having another existential crisis.”

3. “If I go through with this, I die. If I don’t go through with this, we all die.”

4  “You always think you know what you’d do when faced with the end of the world. Me? I went home and took a nap.”

5. “Hey man, nice tattoo.” “I don’t have a tattoo.” “Okay, how drunk were yo last night?”

6. “We have like five people trying to kill us right now, what are we supposed to do? Actually, I counted more like eight.” Oh sorry, I wasn’t specific enough!”

7. “No, no, you do NOT want me navigating. I’ll accidentally navigate us off a cliff.”

8. “What’s our exit strategy?” “Our what?” “Oh my gosh, we’re all going to die.”

9. “I’m sure that sounded different in your head, but please never say that again.”

10. “What’s the word for that infestation of tiny creatures over there?” “Those are children. That’s a school.”

11. His eyes were cold and lifeless as he stared at me. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

12. “How do we keep getting in these situations?” “Eleven years of friendship and I still don’t know.”

13. “Can someone tell me why this coffee tastes like apples?”

14. “You sounded like you thought you were being stabbed in the back but then realized it was a plastic fork.” “I was jumpy, we almost died.”

15. “I am way too sober for this.”

16. “Do you trust me?” “No.” “Smart man.”

17. “Will you be quiet?” “I didn’t say anything!” “Well stop thinking so loud!”

18. “Is this one of times when you want me to lie to protect you?”

19. “We didn’t want her to leave so we duct-taped her to a tree.’

20. “Yeah, I have a plan.” “Is it a good one?” “I have a plan.”

21. That was the night when I finally understood why people fear silence.

22. “You have blood on your knees. No one goes nowhere and gets blood on their knees.”

23. “Why is he bleeding?” “Because he’s an idiot.” “I didn’t know that idiocy caused people to just spontaneously start bleeding from their nose.” “I think it’s a new phenomenon.”

24. “How drunk were you last night?” “Well, I still have my pants on.” “Those aren’t your pants.”

25. “I didn’t know how, but I knew somebody was screwing with me.”

26. “Don’t you have to be stupid somewhere else?” “Not until four.”

27. “You love her don’t you?” “Is it that obvious?”

28. “You gotta stop doing that.” “What?” “Saying things that make me wanna kiss you.”

29. You declare to the heavens that you will not fall in love. Aphrodite herself took it as a challenge.

30. “The problem is,” he said as he leaned in. “If I kiss you now, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

31. “Is there something wrong with me?” “Yes, but it’s the same thing that’s wrong with the rest of us.”

32. “I heard that!” You were supposed to!”

33. “I love you from the bottom of my heart but I don’t trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen.”

34. “And in closing, congratulations on finding someone who you think you can put up with for the rest of your life.” “This is going to be the worst maid of honor speech in the history of the world.”

35. “Now remember, if you hear ominous chanting, the appropriate response is to run.”

36. She narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists. “Do not challenge me.”

37. His mind was filled with thoughts of French fries and revenge.

38. “I think I broke him.”

39. “This,” he sighed, sweeping his arm through the air. “This is what ignorance does.”

40. “So what’s your plan?” “My plan was to follow your plan.”

41. “Lord, give me patience or an untraceable handgun.”

42. “I thought you forgot about me.” “Never.”

43. “Is that blood?” “No?” “That’s not a question you answer with another question.”

44. “You’re right above ‘clown’ on my creepy scale.”

45. “I’m only telling you this because you won’t be able to tell anyone else.”

46. Never had I seen someone look so lost in their own home before.

47. “I thought you were my friend.” “I am. But it is my duty, as your friend, to tell you that you suck at this.”

48. “I’ve decided to stay here, even though you told me not to.”

49. “Are you sure I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes.” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

50. “It’s a good thing you’re cute when you’re angry.”

Ruling the Runway

Magnus had always avoided emails from modeling agencies inviting him for a photoshoot, since the last time he had accepted an offer from Gucci, he was yelled at by the manager for “unprofessional behavior”. In Magnus’s opinion, bringing Chairman Meow to photoshoots is completely acceptable, even though someone always ends up being attacked by the cat. Magnus just can’t help leaving Chairman Meow at home; after all, who could possibly deny the pleading eyes of a cat?

Despite his usual habit of ignoring all offers from modeling agencies, Magnus clicked on an email from Armani, which stated that he is invited to walk the runway at the seasonal fashion show in Milan, Italy. Since this particular show is known to be one of the most extravagant of its kind, Magnus decided to reply with a letter stating that he will, in fact, attend the event.

When the day of the show finally arrived, Magnus felt giddy. He strolled into the kitchen, catching Alec’s dreamy gaze. He walked up behind Alec, who was sitting at the table, and wrapped his arms around him.

“Good morning,” Magnus muttered. He sat down beside Alec and snapped his fingers, making a piping hot cup of coffee and sandwich appear. Alec didn’t mind Magnus magicking up breakfast, but he preferred making his own coffee.

“Do you have any clients today?” Alec asked. “Or can we cuddle on the couch all day while watching bad romcoms?” Alec turned to face Magnus, who had a smirk on his face. Although Magnus could lie all day with Alec, he knew that cancelling his attendance to the fashion show would cause many problems.

“Actually, I’m going to a fashion show in Milan today,” Magnus took a sip of his coffee, and noticed Alec’s eyebrows perked up in surprise, “and you’re coming with me.” Alec blinked a few times, eyes searching the room for nothing in particular, except perhaps an answer that wouldn’t reveal how unenthusiastic he really feels about fashion.

“Uh, me? But I d-don’t know anything about fashion and its-its not a good idea,“ Alec stammered, desperately trying to avoid having to go to the show. He never found interest in fashion, unless it involved gray sweaters and jeans.

“Alec, I promise that this will be the first and last fashion show that I drag you to, ok?” Magnus looked at Alec reassuringly, as he placed his hand on Alec’s muscular arm. “Unless, of course, you want to go to another one.” Magnus said jokingly.

“By the Angel, no,” Alec replied. Magnus let out a laugh, making Alec smile. Somehow, Magnus always made Alec smile, even in the weirdest situations.

“You ready?” Magnus eyed Alec’s cobalt suit, which he helped him pick out. Although Magnus strongly recommended adding rhinestones to the shoulders, Alec insisted on keeping the suit as it is.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Alec replied. Despite portalling multiple times to many locations, he still felt nauseated after every travel. A blue wisp escaped from Magnus’s fingertips, creating a large circular design in the air. The stench of burned sugar filled the loft, which Alec recognized as the smell of magic. Magnus moved his arms gracefully and chanted under his breath, while a large blue portal materialized in front of them.

“Alright, let’s go,” Magnus held out his hand, and Alec grasped it firmly as they walked into the portal. Whoosh. Wind blew into Alec’s face, wrecking his hair. He tried to drown out the feeling of nausea by gripping Magnus’s hand even tighter, up until the point where his fingernails dug into the warlock’s warm hands.
Seconds later, they were both standing outside a sophisticated building covered in ivy. The warm air sent waves of heat into Alec’s body, making him feel better. Magnus let go of Alec’s hand, and discreetly healed the marks where his boyfriend’s nails dug into him. A bright red car sped by them, blowing up the fallen autumn leaves into the air.

“Ah, here we are,” Magnus gazed at the building wistfully. “I remember coming here many years ago to meet with my old fashion designer friends. And, of course, to judge the clothing styles.” Alec snickered.

After finding their seats near the runway, Magnus went to get drinks, leaving Alec alone. He waited patiently, but after the announcement that indicated the start of the show, Alec found himself growing more and more anxious. Everybody took their seats and quieted down. Loud pop music began playing, and Magnus still wasn’t there. Did he plan on leaving me for the entire show? Is he meeting up with someone? Questions swarmed Alec’s mind, and he had to remind himself not to overthink things like he always does.

Beautiful models in geometric clothes started walking down the runway, all of them full of grace and confidence. However, Alec was barely paying attention to the fashion show, his eyes frantically scanning the crowd for Magnus. Suddenly, people began whispering and clapping, many of them exclaiming, “Oh my God, is that the Magnus Bane?!”

Alec immediately turned his head to the runway, where a few feet away from him stood Magnus, wearing a purple velvet suit, black pants that were clearly too tight, and winged eyeliner accompanied by an intense smoky eye. Alec was speechless. All he could do was stare at his boyfriend, who in turn winked at Alec. Magnus shimmied his shoulders as he stood at the end of the runway, biting his lip playfully. Nobody seemed to notice Alec, who had his mouth open, since everybody was cheering for Magnus. Is that really Magnus, or am I just hallucinating? After a few moments of pure awe, Alec began smiling proudly and clapping. Magnus turned around and sashayed, Alec’s eyes following him. Models kept flowing in and out of the catwalk, and every few minutes Magnus would appear, wearing a completely different outfit. It seemed as if Magnus could pull off any outfit he was wearing, whether it be a glittery cape with high-heeled boots or leather pants with a peacock feather fedora.

“Hey hot stuff,” Alec pressed a kiss on Magnus’s cheek, and he blushed, as it was rare that Alec ever called him a pet name. “You rocked every outfit on that runway.” Magnus felt smug, since it was his goal to make Alec enjoy the fashion show and to amaze him out of his mind.

“Thanks,” Magnus replied. “Don’t tell anyone, but I changed most of the things on every outfit.” Alec snickered, not at all surprised that Magnus would do such thing.

“So that’s why everything you wore had either glitter or rhinestones on it,” Alec realized. Magnus smiled even more at how clueless his boyfriend is. Alec grasped Magnus’s hand and led him to a dark corner, where he pushed him against the wall and pressed an urgent kiss on his lips. Magnus kissed him back, and in that moment the pop music in the background seemed to fade, leaving only the feeling of Magnus’s mouth on Alec’s. He gripped Magnus’s arms, feeling the soft velvet of his suit. They were pressed so closely to each other that Alec could feel Magnus’s heart fluttering against his own. At last, they broke apart, both breathless yet satisfied.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you on that runway,” Alec admitted. He grabbed his hand, once again, and they both walked towards the exit of the building. The only thing saving Magnus’s appearance was magic, without which he would have looked like a blushing idiot. There were still quite a few people left, even though the fashion show ended a while ago. One of the designers hosting the show nodded towards Magnus, who in turn smiled.

“You should have seen your face when I walked onstage,” Magnus said. “But I don’t blame you for being speechless. After all, if I saw someone who looks as good as me in tight leather pants, I probably would have been at loss of words too.” Magnus smirked, knowing full well that saying anything remotely dirty makes Alec flustered.

“It’s just that the uh, y’know, uh, lights and all,” Alec sighed in defeat. “You know what? Let’s go home. That sounds like a good plan.” Magnus smiled smugly at how adorable Alec was when he stuttered.

“Or, we could- “

“No, no, no and no.” Alec interrupted, knowing that Magnus usually suggests activities that are either illegal, crazy, or both.

“Ugh, fine,” Magnus rolled his eyes playfully. They had arrived outside, standing under a lamppost. The yellow light cast reflections of the road in Alec’s hazel eyes.

After opening a sizeable portal in the middle of the street, Alec clutched Magnus’s hand tightly and stepped through the portal, no longer dreading the feeling of nausea he knew would wash over him.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to send me prompts/scenarios for future fanfics. Original idea from malecsquad (ig).

anonymous asked:

54 jikook ❤️💛💚💙💜

54: “You’re not mature enough to be a parent.” - “Try me.”

a/n: a cool dialogue challenge

parenting, as everyone knows, isn’t at all an easy thing.

“the formula, jungkook, the formula!”

“i’m trying - i can’t find it! how do i even mix it when i do?”

jimin’s cursing under his breath. “you don’t mix it, idiot, it’s a fake baby! just find a goddamn bottle!”

jungkook comes bursting through the door at that second, panting as his eyes latch onto jimin in the corner of the room, bouncing the doll with a strained expression. for a second jungkook’s chest twists with something warm and gooey, but he pushes the feeling away with a scowl and starts to rummage the room for a bottle.

“no, no, i didn’t notice that!” he yells from inside a pile of clothes. god, jimin is messy, even for a teenager. “i’ve always thought that it was a real baby until now, wow, why’d you just tell me? i’m so shocked!”

when his head pops up and a bottle is clutched in his hand, jimin is right in his face, glaring him down. the mock baby doll that’s been assigned to them still sobs as if it (okay, she, but whatever) has just been personally victimized or something.

jimin snaps back, jaw clenched and tone dangerous, “you’re gonna have fake teeth if you don’t hurry up.”

jungkook gasps, touching the bottle in his hand to where his heart is. the baby ceases throwing a fit for a second, as if to give time for the dramatics of gasp.

“how dare you threaten me in front of the baby,” whispers jungkook, and the expression he wears screams ‘morbidly offended.’ it makes jimin roll his eyes.

“it’s a fake baby,” jimin argues.

jungkook humphs and crosses his arms. the bottle has not left his hand, but for some reason, the baby has stopped its fake crying, just sniffles, so jimin sets it down into the crib.

“well,” says jungkook haughtily, “if that’s going to be your mentality for this project, then i think you’re not mature enough to be a parent.”

jimin shoots him a look. “try me.”

jungkook tries him. it’s a bad idea. considering how jimin’s temper is naturally short and the whole “pretend to be a parent” high school project has set him on edge, it’s reasonable that things don’t end so well for jungkook. he doesn’t get any teeth knocked out, but he does get a particularly hard smack upside the head, which makes the baby laugh.

what a perverse kid he’s raising, jungkook thinks.

it’s a sunny day.

“jungkook, the formula!”

“i’m coming, i’m coming!”

jungkook drags his feet through the nursery door and gently takes the baby from jimin’s arms, holding the bottle “okay, baby, come on, come on.” “yum, yum.”

it takes ten minutes before the baby falls asleep and jungkook takes the bottle from her mouth, running his thumb tenderly over one of her chubby cheeks once. jimin tugs hat his sleeves then and he lets himself get pulled onto the bed, collapsing with an equally exhausted co-father at his side.

a sighs leaves jimin’s lips, eyes droopy. his voice is low as to not wake their kid as he confesses, “you know, sometimes you say ‘baby’ and my brain wonders whether you’re talking about me or the actual baby.”

“baby,” jungkook tests.

jimin groans, burying his face into jungkook’s chest. “see, it happened again.” a sigh is puffed out into the shirt, which is old and strongly smelling of jungkook from lack of energy to do proper laundry. “god, i’m so tired, so friggin’ tired. i could cry a river, but i’m. too tired for that too.”

a grunt is all jungkook can manage in response besides rubbing his nose languidly and affectionately against jimin’s cheek. “they never teach you this stuff in high school,” he mumbles, and his mouth parts as if to say more, but a finger stops his lips.

“the baby’s sleeping,” breathes jimin, the readiness to pass it in his voice alone making jungkook’s eyelids heavy with drowsiness. “just get as - as much sleep as you can, while you can.”

they doze off much too quickly like that, when the sun is shining and it’s not really the time to sleep. nobody blames them, though, not even the tiniest bit.

because parenting, as everyone knows, isn’t at all an easy thing.

yalenayardeen  asked:

elucien + medusa mythology

(okay this kind of….like I just can’t angst with elucien apparently @valamerys be proud of me I blame you for this. Concept pinched from a tumblr post I can’t find but…yeah. Anyway.) 

He has been warned about her, about this place. But those warnings are impossible to heed. The closer he draws the more he feels that this is right. Old instincts that whisper to run, to hide, to flee are replaced by the deeper instinct that sings in his bones. 

The urge to come to this place, to her, has been driving him wild for days. He can’t eat. He can’t sleep. He can’t think past the pull in his chest that draws him to her. He doesn’t know if this is part of her magic. None of the stories have warned him about it, but none of the stories would ever be able to explain this feeling. 

Nothing could ever explain this. The need to be with her. The ache in his chest that tells him that the world is wrong without her in it. The desperate ravaging screaming in his head that threaten to drive him mad unless he answers them. 

He decided this morning that he doesn’t much care if this is part of her magic, part of her curse, to lure him into her trap for the sheer pleasure of killing him that he doesn’t care. This burning compulsion is going to make him lose his mind if he doesn’t yield to it soon. It’s worth it. Just one taste of her will be worth the death that follows. 

His feet drag through the thick, wet sand. Sea water laps at his bare feet. Small stones and shells pepper them with cuts and the salt stings them but he carries on. He can hear the sharp cries of birds overhead, feel the sharp slap of wind against his face, trying to push him back, send him home, away from this place. 

But all the while she calls to him. And he’s helpless to resist. 

His fumbling fingers brush against the rough rock of the cave as he enters it, needing the sensation to ground him. His heart pounds in his ears, drowning out the soothing rush of the sea and the cries of the gulls. As he steps into the cave, the salt smell is replaced by what he thinks is the scent of soft, spring flowers…


Elain looks up from the small pond overflowing with plants that she was tending as magic tugs at her skin, warning of an intruder. No. No not again, not again, please not again. 

They all tell tales of her. They say that she is a monster. They say that any who tries to slay her never return. That she keeps their stone corpses as trophies. It’s only half-true. Elain has killed every man who has entered her cave, spurred on by the folk stories and the hungry desire for glory, but she hasn’t wanted to. She’s wept over every one of them. She cries herself to sleep each night because of what they whisper behind her back: ‘monster, monster, monster’. 

She never asked to be a monster. She never wanted to kill. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone. She just wishes to be left alone with her plants and her peace. Please, please… 

The shuffling steps are echoing down the passage to her now, she can hear him approaching, can scent him, can’t deny his existence now. Standing Elain moves back, pressing herself against the furthest wall, her heart pounding, tears springing into her eyes. She doesn’t want to do this again, she doesn’t, but she can’t help it, can’t make it stop, she doesn’t have any control over this awful curse. 

“Please!” She calls out, her voice trembling. She has to make it stronger, more commanding, then perhaps they wouldn’t think her weak, they wouldn’t think they stood a chance against her. “Please don’t come any closer, please just leave.” 

“I can’t do that.” His voice is low, controlled, a little raspy, a little fearful, but steady and firm. 

“You must!” Elain insists, “Please, whatever they promised you, it isn’t worth your life. Just go home, tell them you tried to slay me but couldn’t, none will doubt your bravery for coming here.” 

“I have not come here to kill you.” Elain starts in surprise at that. No-one has ever come here for any other purpose. She is a monster, and monsters were made to be slain. 

“Then why?” She demands. He’s still coming closer, he’ll be here soon, see her soon, and then there will be nothing she can do but bear witness to his death and honour him. “Surely it isn’t worth your life.” 

“It is,” he says, his voice hoarse, desperate. For the first time, Elain feels something other than fear tugging at her chest and…”I have to, I have to meet you. It might kill me. But not meeting you, not knowing you, is killing me too.” 

She starts, taking a step towards him, unable to help herself, “It’s you,” she whispers to him. The one she’s connected to. The one who keeps trying to draw her from this cave, draw her into killing hundreds just to try and find him. Her mate. 

“Yes,” he whispers, understanding what she means, still slowly moving towards her, unable to resist. A pare of magnets pulled irresistibly towards her. She curses fate, curses the gods that made her into this thing and then tethered this poor man to her, dooming him. 

“I know how it feels,” she says, brushing the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks away with the back of her hand. “But please, you must resist, you must leave. Go home, please.” 


Stubborn idiot. Elain balls her hands into fists. 

“I don’t want to kill you too!” She cries in anguish, stamping her foot on the ground, not sure that she could bare that, killing him, feeling him die through this connection. “Please,” she pants, “Please don’t do this to me.” 

“I can’t just leave,” he chokes, “I can’t bear it, I, please, please-”

“What’s your name?” She asks him, desperate to keep him talking while she tries to think of what to do, how to save him. 

“Lucien,” is his reply and her heart aches for him. She wants him, she doesn’t even know him but she wants him, needs him. “Do you…Do you have a name?” 

She starts in surprise. No-one…No-one has ever asked. No-one has ever called her anything other than ‘monster’ within the walls of this cave, this prison she fashioned for herself to keep them safe. She aches to hear something else, the illusion of kindness, a thing she’s nearly forgotten. 

Selfishly, knowing it will only draw him closer, she whispers, “Elain. My name is Elain.” 

“Elain.” She can hear the smile on his lips when he whispers her name and it wrecks her. She will give him everything, even if it destroys him, because she cannot refuse him, cannot refuse this. “Please, Elain, please let me meet you, please.” 

Squeezing her eyes shut, praying he will do the same, she nods, then remembers that he cannot see her and whispers, “Very well.” 

He moves towards her, fumbling, going slowly, and when she sees the tips of pale, delicate fingers on the black rock, she can’t help herself from taking hold of them, drawing him to her, to his death. 

He’s tall, much taller than her, with long red hair he has bound in a thick braid down his back. His skin is pale white, dusted with freckles, his clothes are fine, cut to emphasise his slim, muscular build. And his eyes- Elain gasps, the hand not holding his covering her mouth in shock. His eyes are gone. Two empty black sockets, a deep scar tearing through one side of his face. 

Elain starts crying. Tears flood down her cheeks, clogging her throat, her lungs, choking her. It’s been ten years, ten years since she was cursed, ten years since she’s looked upon any face that still had life, that could still smile down at her. Ten years since she’s had any company, any contact with someone she hasn’t left a corpse. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, clearly afraid, “Is it your power? Does it hurt? Should I-” 

“Lucien,” she rasps, sinking to her knees, unable to keep herself standing. He kneels down with her, obviously confused, “I can look at you,” she sobs, “I can look at you.” 

“I wish I could return the favour, dove, but unfortunately…” he gestures to his sightless eyes, smirking playfully at her.

 Reaching out, still crying silently, she takes his hands and gently places them on her face, letting him feel her, explore her with his soft, deft fingers. Musician’s fingers, she’s quite sure. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers quietly, his thumb ghosting tenderly over her lips. 

“You would say that even if I was covered in barnacles and mould,” Elain says, finding a hysterical little giggle bubbling from her chest. 

“Naturally,” he says, fingers now examining the tips of her ears, the curve of her jaw, the shape of her cheekbones. “Elain,” he murmurs, growing serious, “Why am I not…I mean, why have you not…Is it because I’m your mate?” 

Yes, she thinks, because only he could be her mate, could match her and be with her. But she cups his face in her hands and whispers, “It’s because you can’t see me,” she brushes the scar on his cheek, “I can’t hurt you, Lucien. I will never hurt you.” 

He stiffens at her words and a noise like a choked sob bursts from his lips as he begins to tremble. A laugh bursts from her chest, and joy floods her for the first time in years. She lost her fiance, her family, her home, her life, everything on the day this curse claimed her. She never thought she would ever even speak with another person for longer than it took to beg them not to try and kill her, let alone have a partner. And now she has a mate, a mate who she will never lose. 


Lucien’s throat bobs as he swallows, Elain’s face still cupped in his hands, her fingers tracing tenderly over the wound in his cheek. He had never thought he would be thankful for the day the brothers had taken his eyes from him. But now, with her, feeling her jubilation bursting through their connection like a firework, he is. 

So he doesn’t stop himself when he surges for her, a little clumsy, and a little off-target. But she’s still laughing when she guides his lips gently to hers. He has never known such gentleness. He had laughed, a hollow, bitter thing, when he had realised that he was mated to a monster. Fitting, he had told himself, he must have been made for them. But Elain…

Elain is a monster more like him than his brothers. Broken and left in darkness, forgotten, abandoned, unwanted. But now…Now they have found the light again in each other. And so he lets himself kiss her, long and slow, letting them be swept up in the joy of finding each other, of finding this thing they never thought would be possible: acceptance. 

Pizza - Joji Miller Imagine

You can’t say that this is one of your finest moments, heading out to get pizza in your pajamas at eleven o’clock at night, but fuck it. This is New York, and you definitely aren’t the weirdest thing on the streets as of right now, lack of a proper bra and fucked up hairstyle be damned. You’re just hungry, and nothing in your apartment is really going to do it for you.

Keep reading

Barb Holland (Stranger Things)

TV Show: Stranger Things
Setting: Fall 1983, Indiana
Room: Barb’s Bedroom

Story we told: Poor smarty pants Barb. She was one minute from busting out of those prairie ruffle blouses and living her real life. I like to imagine that her last moments on that diving board were spent thinking “This bitch is actually holding me back,” but we may never know. 

We decided to give Barb an eclectic, colorful home escape from her drab school life and lame friends who let her die alone in the cold. A place where she can explore her inner truth without worrying about her idiot friend Nancy.

Brooding brainiacs don’t have time for sports but bowling isn’t a sport - it’s a right of passage in the Holland family and a great way for Barb to get out her frustrations at the world.

Barb’s older brother scored her a job at the BRAND NEW video rental store. Although Barb’s parents don’t quite understand the concept of renting movies to watch at home, they are extremely supportive of her desire to learn financial independence. Barb is just glad she gets to watch all the classics (or movies that just came out recently) for free. She also has to rent a VCR (not pictured) because her parents don’t have one yet.

Barb definitely takes time to nurture some budding inner truth (after her homework is done and before she reads her NASA newsletter). Her experimentation with on-trend electric blue eye shadow is symbolic of the clear and present truth Barb can see that her idiot friend, blinded by lust, ignores.

But it’s fine. Barb is comforted by listening to The Cure and reading her Seventeen Magazine; reminding herself that there’s more out there than this small, backward town and its rich white kid entitlement attitude.

Barb isn’t sure if her coat is cool but it makes her feel warm. She’s practical.

Barb is 100% sure her patchwork white leather purse is cool which is why she doesn’t take it to school and risk drawing attention to her inner truth that is still being carefully cultivated. The blue eye shadow is risky enough for junior year. Maybe next year, patchwork purse. Or not, since Barb dies.


Proof we didn’t fake that 1981 Seventeen magazine. We found it at the same thrift shop as the puffy coat. Killer finds for Barb.

Barb’s sheets! Like totally 80s but on point when we pair it with this 70s afghan. We are truly into details here at Imagined Interiors.

We were extremely excited by this Seals in Space trapper keeper and thought it screamed “BARBARA HOLLAND”. However, due to the Seventeen magazine it had to get moved to the nightstand and ultimately upstaged by the video rentals. Poor Seals in Space.

A Hard Love Part 9/10

Originally posted by imaginesforlifetime

Warnings: Swearing

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Y/N - Your name.

A Hard Love Part 1 II Part 2 II Part 3 II Part 4 II Part 5 II Part 6 II Part 7 II Part 8 II Part 9 II Part 10

Y/N was unconscious for the next twelve days, and every day of those twelve days Bucky sat beside her bed waiting for her to wake up. Steve would occasionally convince him to sleep, eat and shower but the rest of his days were spent by her side. The team took turns checking in on her and some would sit for hours in silence with Bucky. Clint was the most frequent visitor aside from Bucky. He was feeling tremendous guilt over what had happened and he wouldn’t feel better until she was awake.

Keep reading

Treat you better (Part 2)

Summary: The reader finds comfort in unexpected arms when the past returns to the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. He realizes a little too late that he had lost her forever.

Warnings: Bit of cursing, a lot of fluff.

A/N: I didn’t think this was going to happen, but a lot of people requested a part 2 for Treat you better and so, I was more than happy to comply. Feedback is love, feedback is life.

(Part 1)

Originally posted by akamatthewmurdock

Months went by and each passing day, (Y/N) had less news about Matt Murdock. The one thing she knew was that he was not dead, but that his firm, Nelson and Murdock, was over, and Nelson was probably going to join one of the greatest firms in New York City. She was happy that something turned out alright for him, for a man who was definitely the one who suffered the most with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Set tried not to think about Matt because she knew how much it hurt. At night, especially when she was alone, she could find herself crying, but when she didn’t spend the nights on her own, she always had a pair of comforting arms that told her that even though it hurt a lot, things would be better and that it would only be a memory. The person behind the words was no other than Frank Castle himself.

The circumstances of their meeting were strange and the two of them had almost forgotten about it, but ever since, they had become very close, to the point where Frank started to develop strong feelings for (Y/N), but he knew her heart belonged to somebody else, so he never even tried to push things with her. He knew she didn’t work like that and whatever her heart decided, he’d still be there.

Their relation was so pure that sometimes Frank would be in the house, and (Y/N) would be sleeping on the couch and he’d carry her back to her room and place her under the covers. The, he’d go to sleep on the couch, helping himself with a blanket from her closet.

“(Y/N)?” He asked, softly squeezing her shoulder to wake her up. She only groaned and rolled on her back closer to him. He lifted her bridal style and carried her to the bed, the same way he had done a few times before.

“Frank?” (Y/N) groggily asked, resting her check on his chest and closing her arms over his neck. He hummed in reply. “Do you wanna stay the night?”

The Punisher chuckled in response and gently kissed his loved one on the forehead; then, nodding in agreement, he said. “Ok, I’ll take out the blanket from your closet.”

“No,” she groaned, “sleep with me.” She seemed a bit more awake, and as she looked up to him, a lazy smile drew on her lips. “I mean it. Sleep with me… I could use the human contact.”

Frank changed into some baggy clothing he had left at her house for whenever he slept there, and they slid together under the covers. (Y/N) sneaked closer to him and wrapped herself onto Frank. In the minutes it took him to fall asleep, his body was stiff and fearful, as if any movement would wake her up completely and make her realize who she was sleeping with, but once he heard the almost glorious sound of her soft breathing, he found himself much more relaxed and ready to have a nice sleep. The greatest he had had in what it seemed as forever. He rolled on his side, keeping (Y/N) well-secured in his big arms and decided to call it quits for the night.

The next morning, a strong smell of coffee and a distant song woke Frank up. He remembered sleeping in (Y/N)’s bedroom but he regretted not waking up before, just to have a glimpse of how gorgeous she looked fast asleep.

He washed his face and changed into his other clothing to walk into the kitchen and see her singing some song he didn’t knew. She turned around to see him, with a pan with scrambled eggs ready to serve.

“Morning, sunshine!” She merrily greeted. “How did you sleep?”

They sat together at the sofa, holding their coffees in their hands and with a wooden tray in between them to hold the things to eat. They exchanged furtive looks, but when they found each other’s eyes, they looked away and giggled nervously.

“I haven’t had a breakfast like this in a very long time.” He exhaled.

“Talking about time,” she said absent mindedly, “you’ve never talked about your family… not with me.” She shrugged.

“I just didn’t think it was necessary, you’ve never asked.”

“Well, now I am,” she nodded once, “how was she? How was Maria?”

“She was the only thing that could break me like who tears a twig in two.” His words, though bitter, didn’t feel like he remembered with a heavy heart. “She was the boss of everything. She just knew how to put things into place and… I just didn’t know how she managed to pull that shit together and so perfectly.” He sipped his coffee and looked at (Y/N). “She…” he sighed heavily, “she was my heaven and, god knows she was my hell too.” (Y/N)’s chin trembled, and she tried to hide it behind the mug she held so tightly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No—” she shook her head— “you didn’t. I asked.”

“I could’ve said no.” Frank chuckled. “Anyway… she’s not gonna come back…”

“I know I’ve said this before… but I’m sorry.” (Y/N) eyes got teary, and her voice weakened each passing second. “I sorry about what happened to you and your family…”

“It’s ok, really.” He smiled and slowly reached out his hand to her, which she happily accepted. Frank caressed the back of (Y/N)’s hand with his thumb and they stayed in silence, just looking at each other.

It was pouring raining in New York City, and even though she had not done anything to feel like that, (Y/N) panted as she took in deep breaths mixed with the smell of water on the concrete. Her heart was flooded with some childish excitement and joy and she giggled like a teenager. She pulled away the thick locks of wet hair from her face as the one and only Frank Castle looked at her in bewilderment. To his eyes, she was gorgeous as it is, but under the non-stopping rain she looked innocent, but somehow at the same time, she looked like a woman. His heart melted inside his chest as he smiled just a little at the sight of her, dancing and spinning on the rooftop.

“You’re gonna get sick!” He lovingly scolded her. “At least take my jacket!”

“Don’t you get it?” She yelled from the furthest corner. “This is everything I needed!” She exhaled heavily with her forehead pointing up to the sky.

“A fucking cold?” Frank laughed heartedly as he took (Y/N)’s hand and dragged her closer to the door. “Come on,” he took off his jacket and placed it over her shoulders, “we’re gonna catch a cold, let’s have some chicken soup, inside.

“No—” she shook her head—“this is dramatic, I know, but I needed this.”

Out of a sudden, she leaned upwards towards Frank’s lips and held on to his broad shoulders, making the loosely placed jacket fall onto the floor. Even though he was taken aback, he instinctively wrapped (Y/N)’s waist with his strong arms, lifting her from the ground just a little bit. From her lips, a nervous giggle escaped whenever they were not kissing, and her jaw trembled as if she tried to say something, but she was soon interrupted each time by Frank’s longing lips.

She nervously pulled away, against her own will, but decided to do so because she was sure as hell trying to get some sense into her head.

“Frank Castle, I adore you.” She panted, still giggling nervously. “I’m an asshole for not realizing what an amazing man I had by my side while I was suffering for an idiot.” She grabbed her head and ran her fingers through her thickened and wet hair. “I love you, Frank Castle. I really do. Nutjob or not, I love you and this scares the shit out of me because I don’t know if you still feel for me the things you felt months ago.” She bit her bottom lip, awaiting for a painfully long time to get the precious answer.

“You’re insane, (Y/N).” He laughed. “Like up here—” he tapped his forehead—“like, why waiting for a fucking pouring rain?”

“There’s nothing better than the rain, and kissing you under it has been…” she exhaled deeply, “quite the experience.” She stopped again and looked away. “And,” she started again with a serious voice, “I know I won’t be like Maria, and god forbid me from becoming anywhere near her,” she turned to see him, “she’s your wife and she’ll be forever your wife. I want us to be different because you have to know I’m different. I am simply (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and… I love you, Frank Castle.”

Frank shook his head as he leaned forward to crash his lips on hers. His rough hands cupped (Y/N)’s face tenderly and she held his wrists. She knew this was meant to be and that no matter what, Frank loved her as much as he did before. She knew the kind of man Frank Castle was, he killed people almost for a living, but she knew that deep inside –very deep inside— the big, bad Punisher was a ball of fluff.

“You know…” Frank whispered, pressing his forehead on hers and kissing the spaces of her cheeks that were not covered by his hands, “I used to think that after her I… I was just dead inside,” he smiled bitterly, “but you… you make me feel like I’m alive again.” He leaned again, and felt ready to take the hugest leap of faith since he got married. He was indeed ready.

love spell ☾ derek hale

request: Hey! I’m not sure if you still take requests but can you do a Derek hale imagine where he takes you on a date, but the pack thinks there’s something suspicious about you so they sabotage the date?? Make it a happy ending! Thanks! :)

word count: 1992 ok 

  It was a rare commodity to see the perpetually pissed off Derek Hale crack even the slightest of smiles, but it was an even rarer one, in the McCall pack’s opinion, to see him positively beaming and walking around his loft with a certain bounce in his step. Picture the brooding Derek Hale bouncing, because it is a strange yet quite amusing sight indeed. The pack of teenagers that never seemed to leave him be entered his loft noisily, but the commotion died instantly when they saw the mood he was in. 

  “Did I die? Is that why he’s so happy? Am I dead?” Stiles asked Scott, digging his elbow annoyingly into Scott’s ribcage and leaning closer to him. Scott shook his head at Stiles, his eyes rolling. 

  “If you were dead, that wouldn’t have been so irritating,” Scott teased, examining Derek’s facial expressions with intense curiosity. “Still, maybe Kate died. That’d probably put him in a good mood.” Stiles nodded, considering this. It made perfect sense. She killed his entire family, tortured him, kidnapped him, turned him back into his sixteen year old self, tried to kill everyone again. It would be perfectly acceptable for Derek to be glad of her death, though that was not the cause of his clear happiness today. 

   “No one died, why are you two always so morbid?” Lydia made herself comfortable on Derek’s couch, Malia and Kira following after her. No one really cared about Derek’s personal space at this point in their relationship. Derek was the unofficial dad of the pack; not really a good one, to be fair, but regardless. “Anyways, a grump like Derek doesn’t get that happy overnight because someone died. That’s a girl sort of happy.” 

   “Derek’s turning into a girl?” Liam questioned, his eyebrows raising. Stiles slapped him on the head, causing Liam to bare his fangs at the older boy. 

    “No, a girl is making him happy,” Lydia replied, sighing with a shake of her head, her russet curls quaking with the movement. “C’mon, boys, keep up.” Stiles frowned, watching as Derek hummed jauntily to himself and set up a vase on his small kitchen table, filling it with water before dropping a bouquet of flowers into it. He ignored the teens that had made themselves comfortable in his living room; it was no longer a nuisance or bothersome in any way. Stiles scoffed, turning back to his friends. There was no way this was really happening right now. 

   “Please, no girl is capable of making Derek freaking Hale that happy in the matter of one week. Derek is Derek,” Stiles crossed his arms. “We’ve known him for what, five years now? And he’s never cracked a smile at us.” 

   Scott raised his eyebrows. “He’s smiled at me before, Stiles.” Stiles, though now looking slightly offended, continued his rant. 

    “Anyways, there’s gotta be some sort of foul play involved. Maybe this girl is, like, a siren or something? Or a succu-thingy… a succubus! Yeah, that’s right,” Stiles nodded to himself, particularly smug. 

    “Or she could be a witch,” Lydia said. Stiles’ eyes widened, and he gestured for the girl to continue. “She could have cast a spell on him, or maybe she was able to get him to drink a love potion. After all we’ve seen, it could make sense.” 

    Scott slapped a hand to his forehead. “Or, she could be a regular girl that Derek likes a lot and is changing for the better because of her?” Stiles and Lydia exchanged a stupefied look before rolling their eyes at Scott and continuing their discussion about witches and how they were going to prove that their was something strange going on with Derek’s new girl. Malia and Liam engaged in the discussion as well, though Kira, like Scott, appeared doubtful. Nevertheless, plans were being formed about what to do with their newfound discoveries.

   Derek stared at himself in the mirror, pressing a hand to the top his hand and trying to smooth down his hair again. Usually, it behaved perfectly fine. He could get it so that there wasn’t a hair out of place. Today, however, it was a mess of unintentional gelled spikes worsened by the fact that when he was feeling nervous he had a tendency to run his hands through his hair. Consistently. Today, he was more nervous than ever. He hadn’t gone on a real date in a very long time, and he wanted nothing more than to impress Y/N before dropping the werewolf bomb on her. Maybe she would like him enough to stick around. 

   He straightened his shirt collar, buttoned one button and then pulled it apart. He tucked his shirt into his light denim jeans and then untucked it just as soon, then debated on whether or not the light wash of his jeans coordinated correctly with his shirt. He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the doorbell rang, so startled that his eyes flashed bright blue for a brief second. He caught a glimpse of it in the mirror when it happened, and hoped Y/N wasn’t planning on scaring him anymore that night for the sake of her sanity. 

   And Derek’s of course. 

   He rushed to the door, smoothing the wrinkled area in his shirt once more before pulling it open, his jaw nearly dropping to the ground when he saw her standing outside his loft, a nervous but lovely smile gracing her lightly glossed lips. He smiled even wider, greeting her with a shy, chaste kiss on the cheek that made her stomach do about one hundred backflips, swarms of butterflies quickly fluttering about at the contact. If one kiss on the cheek could make that happen to her, she couldn’t help but admit that she was excited for the time when he would kiss her on the mouth without warning or real reason. She could see herself being with Derek Hale for a long time. 

   “You look-” he paused, searching for a word- “absolutely gorgeous, Y/N. You are truly the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on.” She was pleased with the compliment, smiling so hard her cheeks were aching just a little. 

    “Aw, Derek, you flatter me,” she said, nervously playing with her hands whilst not quite looking at him. “You look very handsome, just so you know. But really, you always do.” This time, it was Derek’s turn to smile, his face going red. No one had ever done that to him before. He pulled out a chair for her at the table, which she took, and the date began.  

    Of course, as soon as it began, Scott and his pack infiltrated the loft, strangely going unseen. Derek was too preoccupied with his date than with the rambunctious teens, which was their first clue that something was mostly likely wrong with him. They slipped through the door, Stiles lugging a bucket of water behind him. Scott, in a whisper, yelled at Stiles, “I still think your plan sucks!” He gestured to the bucket of water. “You’re absolutely delusional if you think that’s going to work. There’s no way that girl is a witch, and all you’re doing is ruining their date-” Scott stopped, realizing that no one was listening to him anyway. He sighed, following his pack anyway. He watched from behind them all as Stiles, ever the stealth expert, leaped out from the kitchen with his bucket of water and attempted to throw the entire thing at Y/N. However, the thing was so heavy that majority of the water was dumped on her legs and a bit on her torso, but nothing happened. 

   “Oh, uh, well, um, crap,” Stiles muttered, dropping the bucket and looking at his friends. They all stared at him, wondering why they had agreed to coming here in the first place when Derek looked like he was about to kill. He stood up, took a deep breath and looked at Y/N. 

   “I’m so sorry,” he muttered to her, helping her up. 

   “Eh, it’s fine, Der, don’t worry about it,” she stood up, keeping his hand firmly in hers. “Uh, who are these kids?” She looked around the kitchen, taking in the sight of five random teenagers scattered throughout the room and another one standing up with a dripping blue bucket that had just been poured on her moments ago. “And why did that one throw a bucket of water on me?” 

   He shook his head. “I have no idea about the water thing, honestly,” he huffed. “They’re idiots. Just some kids from the high school that, uh, hang around sometimes.” He looked down at the water dripping from her pants, sighing again. “I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he said. “Here, go into my room and grab whatever pants you want. I know they’re gonna be big but it’s the best we can do for now.” He forgot about the fact that the kids were there and leaned down to kiss her forehead, murmuring another apology. Everyone exchanged a look while Y/N hid her face and walked to Derek’s room. Derek then turned around to face the kids, who all looked particularly ashamed of themselves. 

    “Aw, Der, look, I’m really sorry,” Stiles said, his face red and appearing quite guilty. “We just had this thought that maybe she’s a witch and she’s got you under some sort of… love spell,” he muttered the last part, realizing how fucking ridiculous it sounded now that he was really, truly thinking about. 

   “You’re all really stupid,” said Derek, gritting his teeth. “And you may have just ruined my chance with Y/N in there, the one girl I’ve cared about in a long time. Love spell,” he shook his head. “I’m happy for once, and you all think I’m under a love spell.” He ran his hands through his hair. 

    “For the record, it wasn’t me, and we’re all leaving now,” Scott said quickly, dragging Stiles away from Derek’s harsh, intimidating glare and motioning everyone to follow him out the door. Derek couldn’t believe this. He rolled his eyes at their retreating figures before turning around and walking hurriedly back to his room. He found her with a pair of his cleanest boxers on, sitting on his bed and flipping through one of the books he kept on his nightstand. 

     The sight seemed so normal to him, so natural. He barely even remembered that this wasn’t something he saw on a daily basis, and when he did, he felt a pang in his chest. He sat down next to her, the mattress dipping significantly. She glanced up sheepishly, placing the book behind her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to go through your things I’ve just been wanting to read that for awhile-” 

    “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” he said seriously, placing his hand over yours. “I’m the one who gave those dumbasses a key to my apartment in case they ran into any trouble, and they go and do that to you.” He gestured to her soaked jeans and socks drying on the heater. He only had it for show, to be honest, since he was never cold, but he was glad it was there today. “I’m-” 

    “If you apologize one more time,” Y/N began, “I’m jumping out the window. For real, Derek. Stop apologizing, the night wasn’t ruined or anything.” She punched his arm playfully, and he fell a little bit more in love with her. “Is it okay if I stay over?”  

    He grinned, teeth and all. “I was thinking the same thing.” Then, he kissed her, his hands falling in her hair as he pulled her into his lap. Just as she had predicted earlier, butterflies erupted in her stomach, and they weren’t going to stop any time soon. Maybe she didn’t have him under any love spells, but she’d be lying if she said that he hadn’t cast one on her. 

The Signs as Geoff Ramsey Quotes
  • Aries: "Has anybody seen any rare occurrences yet?"
  • Taurus: "Speaking of hard - my dick."
  • Gemini: "You know what they say: the worse the apocalypse, the gayer my dick is."
  • Cancer: "I once got the shit beat out of me so bad by a dude named ‘Porch’."
  • Leo: "I lost my virginity to a girl on black tar heroin."
  • Virgo: "I'm gonna shit my pants!"
  • Libra: "Can you holographically shut the fuck up?"
  • Scorpio: "I hate that dude. No offense to him personally."
  • Sagittarius: "Its a punk rock thing. It's kind of hard to explain."
  • Capricorn: "All things considered this is going pretty badly."
  • Aquarius: "Unfortunately, in space, people can still hear you being a fucking idiot."
  • Pisces: "You make a pretty good milkshake, fish."
MST3K Sentence Starters
  • “Two different plaids?  I’m a naked robot and even I know that’s a fashion no-no.”
  • “Yeah, it’s supposed to get down to absolute zero.  That’s why I always wear a sweater.”
  • “I seem to have died, is that okay?”
  • “I’m sure glad I’M not a puppet!”
  • “They expect you to be a machine to operate this machine!”
  • “Huston, we have a moron.  Over.”
  • “Know him?!  He was delicious!”
  • “Ladies and gentlemen, please accept our sincere apology for all of this. Please.”
  • “I don’t think, I get even!”
  • “Oh you’re here!  Whoa!”
  • “I have no powers but I can skip reasonably well!”
  • “We’re born.  We die.  And there’s a lot of padding in between.”
  • “So it’s a peace-loving death ray?”
  • “You know, guys, it just dawned on me how weird this film is.”
  • “Eat death, robot!”
  • “Enjoy a nice serving of brown betty, with death!”
  • “May your forehead grow like the mighty oak.”
  • “Oh, breach hull all die.  Even had it underlined.”
  • “Oh, pay no attention to me, I’m just a weather balloon.  Just some swamp gas.”
  • “Sir, do you have any idea how fast you were dying?”
  • “I don’t know what you folks are doing up there but if I were you, I’d take that pizza off the ceiling.”
  • “Robot rump?  Aw, I was hoping it’d be about robot rumps.”
  • “We put our faith in Blast Hardcheese!”
  • “Don’t point that goat at me!  It might go off!”
  • “Whoa!  Huge slam on anteaters out of nowhere!”
  • “They blewed it up before we found out what it was!”
  • “Are you implying that bologna has NO insulating properties?”
  • “Your guns are useless, but scare the crap outta me anyway.”
  • “Well, I’m glad to know the future has CONSTANT ORGAN MUSIC!”
  • “No fair! You can’t flashback to stuff we saw ten seconds ago!”
  • “Sorry about my face!”
  • “Because you’re bad at math?”
  • “Um, has anybody noticed that the daughter is psychotic?”
  • “Just because it’s futuristic doesn’t mean it’s practical.”
  • “You spent your nickel, we’re done!”
  • “How do Pop-Tarts work?”
  • “You’ve had the misfortune of running into me, I’m a life wrecking idiot.”
  • “I just wanna be brave for my horrible, frigid non-supportive girlfriend!”
  • “Whoa!  That’s forty pounds of butt in thirty pound butt capacity pants.”
  • “You just don’t care!  You know my lunch is there yet you deliberately sit on it!”
  • “He died as he died:  dead.”
  • “Guess a rocket is standard picnicking equipment in Japan, isn’t it?”
  • “Well, let’s go on a picnic. Let’s see, we got our food, beverages, and 50 feet of uncoiled rope…”
  • “I know a thing or two about a thing or two!”
  • “Hey, that’s anti-robot!”
  • “Oh I wish I was illiterate so I didn’t have to read that.”
  • “I calculated the odds of this succeeding against the odds I was doing something incredibly stupid… and I went ahead anyway.”
  • “I know, I know, don’t laugh, they made me in a hurry…”
  • “My mom says I have to wear this in space because it’s cold.”
  • “I am the lemon zester of destruction.”
  • “I’m glad I choose kicking butt as a living.”