i rolling in feelings from this book

Five Things


Tagged by both @generatorcat and @falling-into-vacancies thanks guys! :)

Rules: Tag 15 people at the end of this challenge!

Five things you’ll find in my bag

  1. wallet
  2. A ton of loose change because when I pay w/cash I get too anxious trying to put the money neatly back in my wallet while the people standing behind me are waiting xD
  3. Uh sand from when my nephew thought it would be fun to pour sand in my purse at the beach in July. -rolls eyes affectionately-
  4. chapstick
  5. A ton of papers that should really be in a folder somewhere.

Five things you’ll find in my bedroom

  1. Bed
  2. Box fan/ heater depending on the time of the year
  3. Books
  4. All my makeup and hair supplies I never use
  5. Dresser

Five things I’ve always wanted to do

  1. Write a book
  2. See a broadway show
  3. Travel
  4. Ice Skate
  5. -shrugs-

Five things that make me feel happy

  1. Hubby
  2. Writing
  3. Reading
  4. Being outside
  5. recently- jogging

Five things I’m currently into

  1. Shameless
  2. JayTim
  3. Sterek
  4. Spideypool
  5. 1950s style

Five things on my to-do list

  1. Pack for the weekend
  2. Finish organizing the spare bedroom
  3. Mow the lawn
  4. Study
  5. And then a bunch of other adult things I’m likely to ignore for way too long

Tagging: @toocool2btrue @ladysdork @vintxgecassette Only if ya’ll feel like it :)

My mom visited a Sherlock Cafe -- Jealousy ensues

Okay so– my mom (who is a pretty big BBC Sherlock fan even though she tries to stay low-key about it) is in China right now for work purposes and she happened upon a BBC Sherlock cafe and I just??

What –

I’m–

Holy shit?? She sent me so many photos of the place and I am in LITERAL agony

LOTS more under the cut because ho boy….there is a lot. 

Keep reading

The first time she said it, he was on the floor, looking for something.

“I love you.”

It was quiet, as if a passing thought, but he froze, like it was the most important thing in the world.

“Say it again,” he said, turning to look at her.

“I love you.” She whispered.

And there was something about the way she sat there, quivering like a leaf, that made him want to sit down and hold her forever.

“I love you I love you I love you.”

She was getting much too brave, and the words rolled off her tongue like they’d been waiting for a long time to be heard.

“I have been too afraid all my life.” She said. “But I am tired now. Screw building walls and hiding emotions.

"I am fucking terrified, and perhaps I don’t know much. But I love you,” she laughed. “I know that I love you.”

—  S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #55 
The New Girl in English Class

Originally posted by riverdales-daily

Anon requests: hi could you please do an imahine where reader is quiet and a bit of a loner and sits in the back of class and one day in english they have to write something and present it to the class and jughead underestimates her but then is actually really impressed and develops a crush on her?? thank u

Hi, Uhm I absolutly love your account. I was wondering if you could do one where y/n is new to Riverdale and ends up be a loner, and since jughead knows what that’s like they become friends <3 lots of fluff. Please and thank you

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: Jughead isn’t a social butterfly, but the new girl, with her impressive writing skills, may be an exception.

Warnings: none

Word count: 958

A/N: I had a lot of fun writing this one, hope you enjoy!


Jughead didn’t care much for his classmates.  He had a select amount of friends, and they satisfied him.  He found no point in socializing with other people just for the sake of more people to talk to.  (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the new girl, was no exception to Jughead’s belief.  She had recently moved to Riverdale, and she sat in the back of Jughead’s English class.  Although he never saw her with any friends, Jughead felt no obligation to act friendly towards (Y/N) because she had no other friends.  That was not his job.

“New girl’s pretty,” Veronica commented at lunch one day.  Jughead looked up from his chips at Veronica.

“So what?” he asked, eyebrows raised.  Veronica raised her hands in mock-surrender.

“Woah there, Jughead,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m just saying.”

“I feel bad for her,” Betty joined in on the conversation.  “I don’t think she has any friends.”

“Being the new girl is hard,” Veronica empathized with (Y/N), popping a fry in her mouth.  “It’s hard to make friends at a new school.  I got lucky with you guys.”  The whole table cooed at what Veronica said, then laughed.


Their English teacher made them write an analysis on the book the class had just finished.  Jughead, a natural-born writer, finished it with ease. Most of the rest of his class, from what he could tell, struggled with the assignment.

The day that the assignment was due, the English teacher surprised everyone by announcing that the analysis would have to be read in front of the whole class.  This sent some of Jughead’s classmates into a frenzy because no one felt confident in their writing.  Jughead was the only volunteer to read.  He stepped up in front of the class and effortlessly read his analysis, and once he finished he plopped back into his chair.  Because there were no more volunteers, his teacher began to randomly select students.  Every student who went up stuttered and fumbled and lacked proper analysis in Jughead’s opinion.  Unimpressed, he sat in his chair with his arms crossed and a judgmental look plastered on his face.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” the teacher called out.  Jughead shifted in his seat so he could glance at the new girl.  Her eyes were wide as she shakily stood up.  Grabbing her paper, she ventured to the front of the classroom.  She cleared her throat and began to read.  Jughead was shocked by her eloquence: her voice was clear and smooth, her writing was immaculate, and her analysis had extreme depth.  When she finished, she quickly sat down before any students had the chance to applaud.

The bell rang, and while the other students dashed out of the room, Jughead approached (Y/N) as she stuffed her binders into her bag.

“That was impressive,” he commented, leaning against the desk in front of her.  She turned to face him.

“What was impressive?” she inquired, pulling a bit of hair behind her ears.

“Your writing,” Jughead answered. “It was very eloquent.  You’re very good.”

“Yours was better,” she responded, shrugged her bag onto her shoulder.  She began to exit the classroom, and Jughead followed in her footsteps.

“That’s debatable,” he countered, “and I don’t say that too often.”  (Y/N) laughed at that, causing Jughead to crack a smile.

“Well then, I’m glad that someone has finally met your standards,” she quipped, and his smile widened.  “Anyhow, it was nice talking to you, but I have to go to history now.”  Her pace quickened as she left Jughead’s side, and he stood in the hallway as he watched her walk away.  He barely noticed that his cheeks were a bit redder than usual.


Over the course of the next two weeks, Jughead tried to get to know (Y/N) better.  He moved his seat so that he was next to her in English.  He began to invite her to his table to eat lunch with him and his friends.  Although they all noticed his shift in attitude, they chose to remain silent. They were going to let Jughead figure this one out on his own.

It took Jughead another three weeks before he finally realized what happened.  He was sitting in his booth with (Y/N) across from him.  They were working on an English project, each of them working on their own individual assignment.  There was no conversation being tossed between them, just a soothing silence.  Jughead looked up from his writing and saw the girl sitting across from him, and then it hit him.  He liked her.  

“(Y/N),” her name spilled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.  Her head snapped up, and she shot him a puzzled glance.

“Yes, Jug?” she questioned. Jug.  When did she start calling him that?

“When did you start calling me that?” he voiced his thoughts.  (Y/N) shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she answered. But he didn’t care about the answer to that question.  What he was really wondering was when did everything change?

“Is this a date?” his words stumbled over one another as they poured out of his mouth.  He immediately regretted saying that.

“I didn’t think it was,” (Y/N) remained calm.  “It can be if you want.”  Jughead almost missed the second part of her reply, but once it registered in his mind, he burst into a grin.  (Y/N) shook her head with a smile etched onto her face, and turned back to her English work.

“Or would this not be our first date, since we’ve come to Pop’s together so many times before?” Jughead wondered aloud.  (Y/N) laughed as she set her pencil down.

“It’s our first date, Jug,” she told him.  “It’s the first because we didn’t acknowledge it before.”  Jughead smiled cheekily.

“Then this is a great first date.”

Making Your Murder Board (or, Creating Fiction Through the Mind Map Method)

Hello, all!

With Camp NaNo quickly approaching, I find myself facing the daunting task of writing two novellas without much of an outline in place. I can’t imagine that I’m the only one in a situation like this, so I thought I’d share one of my favorite methods for organising my stories.

In the past, I’ve certainly been the type to write out a full outline with Roman numerals and topic sentences like it’s a fifth-grade book report from the 1980s.

While I can’t deny that this can be incredibly helpful when it comes to writing specific scenes and keeping timelines in place, it’s a bit too technical when it comes to more grand-scheme ideas that get the plot rolling in the first place. I don’t know about you, but I like to visualise my stories on a large scale before I start getting down and dirty with the details.

Enter the mind map.

I personally like to refer to this as my Murder Board, as it makes me feel like I’m on Criminal Minds and trying to solve the case by connecting all of the little red strings and thumbtacks. It can get pretty involved and can look damn scary depending on how many details you include, but I absolutely swear by it.

This strategy was recommended to me by a friend, and I can’t offer enough praise for it and how much it’s helped me to get my stories on track. If there are any of you out there still struggling with how to string your plot bunnies together in time for writing to start on July 1st, I definitely recommend taking some time to put one of these together.

I’ve illustrated my preferred method below using Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix as an example. As a quick disclaimer, I’m the type of writer that puts a lot of emphasis on character. As such, this method is specific to character and relies heavily on the primary protagonist’s perspective— if your story isn’t particularly character-driven, this exact method may not work for you. I still strongly advise giving it a shot, as you never know what sort of details will be uncovered as you work on putting together a map.

With that in mind, let’s begin! (I apologise in advance for the quality of the photos— my camera isn’t the best)

Keep reading

My IT Review (May Contain Mild Spoilers)

Trying to record a video was just not going my way, so here is a post about my thoughts on IT. After reading some other people’s reviews, some of my opinions will definitely be in the minority, but it also looks as though many people had some of the same complaints as I did. But overall, IT WAS AMAZING.

PROS

  • It’s scarier than the trailer 
  • For some, IT looked too silly in the trailer and promotional stills, and I promise he makes up for it in the movie
  • The kids are totally motherfucking bad ass, especially during the rock fight scene and the end scene. 
  • Richie, Beverly, and Eddie stole the show. Richie is hilariously funny and had me laughing out loud. Richie and Eddie together are even better. And Beverly punches you right in the goddam gut with her emotional performance. 
  • Finn gets a mother fucking bat scene. 
  • The acting is amazing overall; these kids are so impressive. 
  • Although some things were changed, overall, it did a good job staying true to the book. 
  • No orgy scene for those of you worried, lol.

CONS

  • Although the Derry history was touched upon, I wish there was even more. 
  • The kid’s backstories and upbringings could have been fleshed out a lot more, and because they were limited, it was hard to emotionally connect with the characters, other than Beverly. 
  • Mike’s roll seems very random and awkward. For some reason they changed his entire backstory and his addition to the loser’s was just…out of place. I was highly disappointed in this; he deserved way more screen time as I find him sort of like a default leader if anything happened to Bill. Mike deserved better.
  • Henry and his gang are also just…an awkward addition. I felt there roles were simply added just because they were characters in the book, when in reality, their roles play a much larger part in the book and original TV adaptation. The entire end scene in the sewer is changed from the book and movie; I won’t say how but it for me, it was highly disappointing and they took away important things. Henry’s gang was painted as mere bullies when in the book Henry is much more sinister than that. 
  • Although Eddie’s leper was added, some IT incarnations are not. 
  • SPOILER: There is no “this is battery acid you slime!”, nor is there a dam building scene, nor is there Beverly kicking the boys’ asses with the slingshot. They don’t even bring the silver dollar slug down into the sewer in the end. 
  • I feel the emotional bond between the kids could have been stronger. I also feel like in the book/TV movie, we got the idea that these kids were chosen by fate to defeat IT. I feel like in this version, the burden sort of just…fell in their laps.
  • CGI. I really hated it, but I have a theory, haha. Some things looked too silly and fake to me, but if we are seeing it through a child’s perspective – a child who watches cartoons or reads comics – then what they see will somewhat reflect that. I don’t know if that theory is accurate, but it helps me feel better with all the CGI used on Pennywise. 
  • Literal floating dead kids. *rolls eyes*

Things You Wouldn’t Notice Unless You Read The Book/Saw TV Movie

  • The turtle. I am not 100% sure, but I’m pretty sure the lego set that Bill is holding from Georgie’s room is a turtle. If anyone else can confirm this or correct this, let me know. Also, a turtle is mentioned during the swim scene. 
  • You may see certain IT manifestations during the end scene; they are quick though, so if you blink, you will miss them. (Hint: Mummy)
  • The dead lights are shown, but not explained. 

Awesome Things I Fucking Loved

  • All the 80s throwbacks, especially Nightmare on Elm Street 5, Street Fighter, and New Kids on the Block!!!
  • Finn’s mother fucking bat scene!
  • The end scene is phenomenal and although I was in the theater by myself, I legit threw my arms up in the damn air and cheered like a nerd. 

Gore

  • For those wondering about gore, it’s not that bad. There are disturbing scenes, jump scares, and blood, but nothing that wouldn’t be shown on network cable like Walking Dead or American Horror Story.
  • EDIT: I said no animals die, but there is one on-screen death of a farm animal. Sorry!!!

And lastly,

  • SOME GUY SAW “CHAPTER ONE” AT THE END AND WAS LIKE, “WHATTTT, CHAPTER ONE????, AW HELL NO” LIKE HE DIDN’T KNOW THERE WAS A SECOND. LIKE IF YOU DON’T KNOW THERE IS A SECOND, YOU DON’T DESERVE IT. (Ok, just kidding, but really dude….omfg.)
I Think I Wanna Marry You...

Pairing: Dean X Reader.

Warnings: none.

S/P/N- Sister’s Preferred Name.

Summary: The reader, distraught over not having a date to her sister’s wedding, considers asking one of the Winchesters to pretend to accompany her; will Dean manage to save the day and play pretend for two weeks, or will his feelings get the best of him?

A/N: I’m a sucker for these “fake relationship” stories ;))



                                                   ~*~*~*~

Y/N pulls the phone from her ear, her frustration drawn out in the creases in her brow.


“Well?” Dean asks, sat opposite her at the library table. Before him lies an open lore book, on a page about Nordic gods and how to kill them, and his cup of coffee sits dangerously close to the irreplaceable relic. With Sam out doing some shopping, it’s just the two of them at home, trying to dig up some info that might be useful for future use.


Pinching her brow, the young girl shakes her head, waving a dismissive hand.  “Nothing. It’s fine.”


“Ya’ sure?”


“Yes.” She says, trying to sound convincing, but its of no use, because the elder Winchester has known her long enough to see past her facades.


Living together for nearly five years now, calling her his best-friend even feels like an understatement. They got to know each other a while back through a hunt involving a Tulpa in California; Y/N’s kill, but the boy’s happened to jump in on it and help out. Surprise surprise: a friendship sparked,  and ever since then, the relationship has flourished greatly.


To Dean, Y/N is family, just like Cas or Charlie or any of the other members of their little rehabilitation program they’ve picked up over the years. And with that, he knows—well enough—that despite her efforts to dismiss it, something is nudging at her mind.


“Obviously not. You seem like you’re about to explode. What is it?” He shuts the book and leans forward. Y/N still looks exasperated; still tries to act like she isn’t, and fails terribly. When she finally lifts her gaze, her expression is that of defeat.


“It’s my sister.” She says mournfully. “She’s calling me about her wedding coming up this month, and wants to know if I’ve been signed up to the family news letter that allows me to see all the updates on things like which floral arrangement we’re going to have. Surprise surprise—I’m not.”


“Damn.” Dean says plainly, still not seeing the reason behind her chagrin. Y/N rolls her eyes at him, trying to look annoyed, but the smile that she suppresses says otherwise.


A sardonic laugh escapes her. “Yeah, damn indeed.”  She rises from her seat, downing her coffee. Dean glances at his, then stretches it across to her. She finishes it in a single glug.


“So….what now?” He leans back in the chair. “You don’t know the floral arrangements? Doesn’t sound so bad.”


“I don’t know anything about this wedding, Dean. I don’t know where it’s gonna be, I don’t know who’s gonna be there, and—until I few seconds ago—I didn’t know I’m going to have to be in Boston next week. S/P/N mentioned it in the newsletter but….” Her voice drifts off and she folds her lips into a straight-line, shrugging.


“What’s in Boston?”


“The wedding, apparently. Who even gets married in Boston? Yuck.” Y/N scowls.


“Your sister, apparently.” He almost rolls his eyes. “Right, so…go to Boston. Show up for the rehearsal, see your family, have fun, and then get back here once everything’s done.”


Dean explains it like it’s so easy.  To him, it is.  Wedding prepping can’t take more than three weeks, can it….? He wouldn’t know. He’s never had the chance to even be part of a wedding, but he assumes that that’s an appropriate estimate.


But, from the way Y/N bites her lip and averts her gaze to the floor, a look teetering between guilt and embarrassment on her face, maybe he’s wrong.


“Yeaahhh….” She draws out, skeptically. “Uhm…about that. It’s not as easy as it sounds…”


“Uhm…?” He quirks an inquisitive brow.


“I…sorta…told them that I have a date to the wedding and,…” Y/N gestures in the air, but doesn’t finish her sentence.


Dean watches her with a knitted brow, waiting for an explanation that doesn’t come, until realizations strikes. His eyes widen and his mouth forms a little “o”.


“Ohhh.”


“Yeah…” Her cheeks are dusted with a feint blush and she looks away.


Dean doesn’t want to say it, but he can’t help but think how cute it is—really cute. The only thing that can compete, he thinks, is the way her eyes disappear into her cheeks when she smiles.


As embarrassing as it is, he has almost an entire list like that about Y/N; things he thinks are adorable about her, things like her laugh, to  he way she’s so awkward around big crowds,  or how she has an undeniable obsession with space. Little things. Cute things. It goes on and on, infinite and growing each day, the more and more he gets to know her…but he’ll never admit that.


Because he can’t.


Because Y/N is family, and she’s just a friend.


“Well…is it like a must to bring one along? You could always just tell your family that you guys…broke up? Maybe he cheated. Maybe the love fizzled out.” Dean offers, shrugging.


Y/N looks at him with an un-amused expression. “Great thing to mention right before a wedding.”


“God, I don’t know.” Getting up from his seat, he rolls his eyes. He shuts the book and a gust if dust billows from it, then fixes it under his arm.“You’ll figure it out. It’s you.”


“Dean…”


“Yeah?”


Y/N doesn’t meet his gaze. Instead, she looks to the floor, arms crossed over her chest.“Well,…there is something I thought about doing, but—God, I don’t know. What if, like—” She finally looks up.


Dean waits for the bombshell he knows she’s about to drop with a cautious, furrowed brow,


“—I asked Sam?”  She finishes, her expression hopeful; her eyebrows are pulled together and she’s squinting slightly. The elder Winchester feels the wind get knocked out of him at hearing this.


His eyes widen. “Sam?”


“Not to actually be my date!—just to fool my family for the two weeks. Do you think he’ll go along with it?”


“I don’t get it—why don’t you just—“


“I can’t tell them I don’t have a date, because I already told them that I do. Going back on my word now will just make me look ridiculous, Dean. Just…”Y/N sighs and shuts her eyes. Dean can read the desperation in her features. He bites his lip, contemplating Y/N’s offer.


Sam, going on a date with Y/N. The idea is so ludicrous, so unbelievable that it sounds completely silly, like imagining pigs fly or anything of the nature. He can’t bring himself to even picture the two of them together, but…


Still.


He then feels something stir in his gut at the thought, a warmth, a….jealousy? No. Hopefully not. It’s been ages since these feelings have managed to surface. Now is not the time for a return. The elder Winchester quickly suffocates the feeling and averts his attention back onto his friend.


 Before him she stands, imploring y/e/c eyes, a sweet smile stretched across her face and hands clasped together. She looks like a little girl, so young, so desperate. The elder Winchester doesn’t want to say no. Even if he did—with puppy eyes like those—how can you?


“So you have to have a date to this wedding?”


“I do.”


Dean thinks for a moment, raking his eyes over Y/N’s face that speaks mountains of uncertainty.


“You think he’ll say no, huh?”


“I’ll do it.”


“What?” Confusion floods the young girls face as she unclasps her hands. They fall to her side. Dean gulps trying to level his voice to a more confident tone.


“I’ll be your date to your sister’s wedding.” He repeats, hoping he sounds more sure than he feels. His hands go cold, throat tightening.


Y/N’s face speaks volumes of surprise. “You’d…do that?”


Another nod.


“You’ll really do this?” She asks eyes wide. “A whole two weeks in Boston? With my family?”


Dean shrugs. For some wild reason, his heart is pounding in his chest and his palms are sweating, and he tries to stave off all the anxiety that begins to bubble within his gut. “Yeah. Why not?”


“Dean,” Y/N’s voice is stern all of a sudden. You can tell that she’s just as taken aback by the proposal as he is, but is trying not to show it. “If you say yes to this, I don’t want you to half-ass it? This is a real big deal for me, you know?”


“Look, do you want a date to this wedding or not?”


Y/N  then bites her lip, contemplating. The elder Winchester’s eyes never leave her as he watches, waiting for response, until she finally agrees.


“Okay.” She says. A small smile then twitches on her lips, and Dean can see she’s trying to suppress.


“ Okay. Awesome. I’m gonna call S/P/N and see if there’s anything more I need to know yeah?” She asks. He nods.


“Sure.” Dean says. “It’s fine with me.”


“Sure?”


“Mhm.” He knows he is, because the smile that breaks through Y/N’s authoritative face then is something definitely worth the decision. Her cheeks indented with dimples, she smiles, shaking her head, and then walks out to make the call. On the way out, she makes sure she butts her shoulder into his, just for fun. Dean lets out a nervous chuckle.


She’s gone. The empty library is silent, and that’s when his heart starts to thud.


Over and over, like a vicious doldrums. The silence only accentuates the sound of his rapid heartbeat, as the elder Winchester allows in a deep breath. His eyes flutter shut, and the anxiety begins to melt away gradually.


This is gonna be a hell of a wedding.


                                                  ~*~*~*~

Part 2

I’ve been in my feelings for Dean for the past few weeks so bear with me pls. Also, I’m very excited for this story; more chapters to come, hopefully soon.

As always, likes, re blogs and general feedback is greatly appreciated!

“Morning, Cas.” Dean stifled a yawn as he entered the kitchen, nodding at his friend who was enjoying his coffee while flipping through the pages of some book.

“Good morning, Dean,” Castiel replied pleasantly, blue eyes briefly blinking up to acknowledge Dean.

Dean affectionately ruffled the angel’s hair before making a beeline for the fridge, his growling stomach voting ’food’ rather than ’coffee’, at least for now. He scrunched his nose when all he found were some take out leftovers that were about as old and hairy as that witch that they hunted a couple of weeks ago. Coffee it was then. And a grocery run later today, Dean made a mental note.

Sitting down across from Cas at the kitchen table, Dean’s eyes fell on the book that Cas seemed to be engrossed in.

“What are you reading?” he asked as he took a sip of coffee, curious as to what could possibly be this interesting at eight in the morning.

Cas peeked up at him again through his lashes, and Dean could swear that he saw the hint of a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Claire gave it to me, I have more of them,” he answered evasively.

Dean raised an eyebrow at him, gently reaching out to tilt the book so that he could see the cover, immediately groaning when he realized what it was.

“Seriously, Cas? Supernatural? You’re not honestly reading that bullshit, are you?”

The angel was looking a tad bashful, but that didn’t stop him from nonchalantly turning another page.

“It’s just… It’s nice to get a look inside your head, like this.” Cas explained quietly.

And okay, that made no sense to Dean.

“For real? Cas, we share a room, your tongue has been in my mouth! If there’s anything you want to know you can just ask me instead of turning to that garbage,” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes, half amused, half annoyed. “Hell, you could literally read my mind if you chose to.”

“But I promised not to,” Castiel reminded him, at last putting down the book and giving Dean his full attention. “And most of these were from before we met… I was simply curious what you were up to, how you were feeling back then. For one thing, I found out that you easily believed in the existence of every supernatural creature possible, every single one except angels.”

Cas looked mildly affronted by that, but Dean snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. Silly angel, to be bothered by this after all these years. He reached over the table to lace his fingers through Cas’.

“For what it’s worth, I believe now,” Dean muttered, smiling at Cas.

Ever so slowly, Cas’ smile started mirroring Dean’s, and he eventually nodded in agreement.

“So… Will you stop reading those now?” Dean checked after a short silence, squeezing Cas’ hand.

Picking up the book again with his free hand, Cas grinned almost mischievously.

“Not a chance.”

Boys Like Him

MASTERLIST

A/N: Everything I write at the moment doesn’t turn out how I want, so I apologize in advance for this. 

Word count: 3,143

I had been on tour with Shawn for about a month now and though we’d been dating for almost a year, I had never tagged along his tours before nor had I ever really gone to one of his shows, so sitting on the floor of the hotel room and doing my homework was a rather big step for us. Bringing me along and sharing this part of him was a rather big step for us. 

Keep reading

NEW DIRECTION

How Louis Tomlinson survived the break-up of the world’s biggest boy band and became his own man

The Observer Magazine 25 Jun 2017

Photographs ALEX BRAMALL Fashion editor HELEN SEAMONS

Coming out of a dissolving boy band must be a bit like being an entrant in one of those dystopian jungle fights –a Hunger Games- style event in which bandmates are scattered across an unknown terrain and challenged to slog their lonely route back to fame. Justin Timberlake, after NSync, enjoyed the unsporting edge of natural talent and crushed his former colleagues. Robbie Williams looked supreme in the Take That scrimmage, at least until Gary Barlow circled back, gathered up the other three, and made the fight a more compelling four- on- one. By the time One Direction announced they were to go on indefinite hiatus in 2015, many of us were familiar enough with the conventions of boy-band bloodsport to start picking favourites for the coming melee.

Harry Styles – charming, a grinner – was best placed to succeed on his own. Big-lunged Zayn Malik was already out of the band by that time and had used his head start to good effect, preparing a solo album that went to No 1. Liam Payne and Niall Horan – always second-tier members – were given middling chances. And ranked last in any serious analysis, the most fitfully appreciated member of One Direction, was Louis Tomlinson. Here was a combatant you might expect to find curled up in a fox hole on the battlefield, pale and chain-smoking.

It is in roughly this position I find the 25-yearold, one afternoon earlier this summer. Slender, tracksuited, a little wan under his manicured facial hair, Tomlinson sits on a garden bench outside the photographer’s studio and rewards himself with an entire pack of cigarettes. “I know, I know,” he says of the smoking. “It’s not great. But there’s so much hurry-up-and-wait in this job. It helps me get ready to go again.”

I’ve often wondered why the fringe members of boy bands do this to themselves. Why they gather themselves to “go again”. As Tomlinson acknowledges, in One Direction he was seen by some as “forgettable, to a certain degree”. “The others have always been… Like Niall, for example. He’s the most lovely guy in the world. Happy-go-lucky Irish, no sense of arrogance. And he’s fearless. There are times I’ve thought: ‘I’d have a bit of that.’ Zayn, back in the day. He could relate to me on a nerves level. In the first year we were both the least confident. But Zayn has a fantastic voice and for him it was always about owning that. Liam always had a good stage presence, same as Harry, they’ve both got that ownership. Harry comes across very cool. Liam’s all about getting the crowd going, doing a bit of dancing…” And then there’s you. “And then there’s me.” Tracks from Tomlinson’s solo record have been playing inside the studio. They’re modest, rather lovely pop songs that in their quiet way seem to acknowledge his underdog status. Tomlinson lights another cig. “You know I didn’t sing a single solo on the X Factor,” he says, recalling the time back in 2010, when One Direction were first put together as a band on the ITV reality show. “A lot of people can take the piss out of that. But when you actually think about how that feels, standing on stage every single week, thinking: ‘What have I really done to contribute here? Sing a lower harmony that you can’t really hear in the mix?” He guesses, smiling wryly, that in those months he was best known as “The kid wearing espadrilles, stood in’t back.”

Not the best singer, not the high-energy guy, not the dude, Tomlinson discovered he was the one in the band who was most tuned into backstage logistics – the one who paid attention when “the 20th approval form” was passed around for a signature. “And if there was any bad news that needed giving to the label I’d always be designated to have the argument.” Later this would lead to Tomlinson founding a small record label of his own, Triple String, and to starting a side project managing a girl band. In his day job with One Direction, meanwhile, he toured the world, released five albums and amassed a large, equal-parts fortune like the rest of the boys. Somewhere en route, Tomlinson says, he found his feet as a performer. “In the last year of One Direction I was probably the most confident I ever was. And then it was: ‘OK, hiatus!’”

Tomlinson argued against it, he says, when the band first sat down to discuss separation. “It wasn’t necessarily a nice conversation. I could see where it was going.” Tomlinson remembers his instinctive assumption being simple. He would step away – try writing for other people, keep his label going, wait the “two years, five years, whatever it be” until One Direction reformed. “If you’d asked me a year or 18 months ago: ‘Are you going to do anything as a solo artist?’ I’d have said absolutely not.”

What changed? If the management stuff made you happy, I say, why not sit back and focus on that? “But then I’d be conceding,” he says. Conceding to who? To what? He waves his hand in the air. He could mean anything:

Niall is the most lovely guy, Zayn has the voice, Harry is very cool, Liam gets the crowd going… And then there’s me

I honestly think they’ll write books about One Direction fans. They are so fanatical. The intensity. It’s remarkable

history, bandmates, doubters, the press. Tomlinson is quiet for a while and eventually says: “I’m trying to work out why it is that I’m [doing this], now that you’ve asked that question.” He fidgets and trials a few answers that run out of steam. “It’s frustrating, because I know what I want to say and I can’t articulate it.” He pats for his lighter. The odds are against this tilt, Tomlinson seems to understand. But as we start to talk through his reasons for at least trying, I find myself hoping that this Last Directioner makes an unlikely go of it after all.

pop industry has an ineREASON ONE . TH E luctable momentum, and the star who begins something ( like a skier inching off a hilltop) can quickly find themselves bound to ride out whatever thrills and trials comes next. Tomlinson gives the example of how he first became famous. Born in Doncaster in 1991 he was raised by his mother, Johannah Deakin, and later also by her new partner Mark Tomlinson. He was 16 when he went to his first X

Factor audition. Prompt rebuff. A year later he made it into the audition process, but still nowhere near the part where ambitious young singers are briskly embraced or condemned by that great gatekeeper of celebrity, Simon Cowell. In 2010 Tomlinson, twice unlucky, gave the auditions a final try.

“I told myself I’ve just got to get to Simon, get his opinion, that’s all my ambition was. Then all of a sudden everything changed. To my friends in Doncaster I would always say [getting into the band] was the most incredible thing that happened to me. And it was. But it happened when I was already having the best year of my life. I was 17, 18, just started driving, didn’t need fake ID any more, going to house parties. That’s the time. That’s the age. And to a certain degree… ‘Having it taken away’ is the wrong phrase. But there was a price to pay.”

He says his current efforts as a soloist came about in similar fashion. In 2016, Tomlinson had become a father. (His son, Freddie, “who I love so much”, was born after a brief relationship with a Californian stylist called Briana Jungwirth.) He had some other personal matters to work through and in the summer he went on holiday to Las Vegas to blow off steam. At a club the American DJ Steve Aoiki was playing. Tomlinson, giddy with delight from Aoiki’s set, suggested to the DJ they try writing something together. In career terms, he had inched off the hill again, without necessarily considering the gradient of the slope.

A few months later, Tomlinson says, a single he’d written with Aoiki was being rolled out for release through One Direction’s old record label, Syco. Tomlinson was booked in to perform it on live TV. “And I was, like: ‘Did I really think this through?’”

Which leads Tomlinson to reason two. He’s well aware he was fast-tracked into his music career. That, as a part of One Direction, he was only a piece of a “heavy machine”. And as a self-aware northerner, from a proudly working class family, this has left Tomlinson with residual guilt to answer about wealth and status that do not feel to him fully earned. “And I know, I know it sounds ungrateful. But I think about a man, on a nine-to-five, working his arse off for six months so he can go to his family and say: ‘Guys, I’m taking you to Disneyland.’ That moment… I’ll never have that in my family life. And I’ve worked hard. But I’ve never worked hard, not like that.”

Tomlinson says he has already sweated more for this record than any before. When you’re putting together material as a soloist, he says, you quickly learn that those hot-shot collaborators who once dribbled to work with One Direction no longer pick up the phone

so readily. “I couldn’t say to you now that I could definitely get a superstar writer in a session with me. And I understand that.” Tomlinson adds, with no real vinegar: “Harry won’t struggle with any of that.”

In their One Direction days, no question, Styles got the most attention. But all the boys had their devotees and Tomlinson wants to prove to his own fans – reason three – that he’s been worth the backing all these years. “I honestly think they’ll write books about One Direction fans,” Tomlinson says. “Because they are so fanatical. The intensity. It’s remarkable.”

Tomlinson cannot talk about it with me, not without getting into muddy legal waters, but there was recently a difficult episode involving a small crowd of fans at an airport in LA. He was travelling with his partner, Eleanor Calder, who is viewed with some distrust by the fiercest corps of Louis fans. Video footage seems to show Calder being surrounded and attacked by a group of girls. Tomlinson, unable to discuss the matter, says to me more generally that he hopes his new music will reveal to fans a more complete version of himself than before. “Honestly, it’s crazy. It’s hard for a lot of people who are fanatical to believe that you are a real entity and a person.”

Which brings us to reason four. Reason four Tomlinson discusses with caution. Reason four he enshrouds with disclaimers: that it is not his intention to tell “a sob story”, that “I don’t like people feeling sorry for me”. Reason four concerns his mum.

Johannah Deakin was diagnosed with leukaemia in early 2016. Tomlinson had been worried his luck would run out; that having been “dealt that amazing hand” to squeak into the last berth in One Direction, he was due some sort of equalising blow. And he gives a bleak little laugh when he recalls where he was when the terrible phone call came. “At Jamie Vardy’s wedding of all places. Talk about your places, for something super-traumatic. My mum told me, uh, yeah, that she was definitely terminal.”

They were unusually close. He recalls how she was often one step ahead “because she had the password to my email”. It was an intimacy he attributes to them being close in age. “I remember the day I lost my virginity. I hadn’t even told any of my mates and I was, like: ‘Mum? I know this is really weird. But I’ve got to tell you…’ I remember thinking this is a bizarre conversation to be having with your mother. But it’s testament to how comfortable she made me.”

When Deakin died, in December 2016, Tomlinson was only days away from the live gig he’d agreed to do on the X Factor. “I remember saying to her: ‘Mum, how the fuck do you expect me to do this now?’ And she didn’t swear much, my mum. She’d always tell me off for swearing. And this time she was like: ‘You’ve got to fucking do it, it’s as simple as that.’ It was football manager, team talk stuff.’” The footage of Tomlinson’s performance that weekend is hard to watch. When he first appears on the X Factor stage he looks rigid, almost plastic, with grief. He’s clearly able to lose himself in the three-minute drama of a pop song. And after that the colour drains right back out of his face.

Tomlinson smokes for a bit. He says: “I’m not gonna claim this is all for me mum. But it was definitely… It was…”

He thinks. Throughout his life, he says, his mum always had greater belief in him than he did. “Sometimes my reservation, or my confidence, might have prevented me from doing something. And I’ve needed a mum in the past to kick me up the arse and go: ‘You’re doing it.’”

The boy bander has his reasons, then. “I’ve enjoyed this,” he says. “An opportunity to talk super openly. Not, y’know, answer questions about who my favourite superhero is. I don’t feel I get that many chances.”

The pile of cigarette butts in front of him has mounted to quite a height. Tomlinson, seeming to notice it for the first time, mutters: “Sorry. I’ve been chaining.” His mum hated smoking, he says. Then he smiles. “Though I remember she had the occasional cigarette herself.”

He taps his lighter on the table and asks what I make of everything he’s said. “Do you think your readers are still gonna wonder: ‘Why doesn’t he just not do it?’”

I’m not sure, I tell him, trying to be honest. But let’s see.

The day I lost my virginity, I hadn’t even told any of my mates, and I was, like: ‘Mum? I know this is weird but I’ve got to tell you…’

Louis’s new single ‘Back To You’ featuring Bebe Rexha and Digital Farm Animals is coming soon

anonymous asked:

Supercorp could be a real cliché tatoo florist au where Lena is a passive agressive florist à la Luce in imagine me and you, and always happy Kara who does loads of really sweet sentimental tattoos whose really good with first timers but also super popular with bikers bc she can do hella good intricate sleeves and stuff.

It’s not just her job. It’s her craft. Her art.

So when she gets a request to tattoo a certain type of flower, she buys them, she takes them home. She studies them, she interacts with them. She gets a feel for their nuances and their character, and, when she’s ready, she’ll ink them into someone’s skin.

Sometimes, that someone is a newbie who’s nervous and shivering, who watches Kara’s colleague Vasquez ink someone else with a shudder in their spine and quaking in their voice. Kara will sit them down, will brew them tea. She’ll give them cookies. She’ll ask them what inspired them to put something so important, so beautiful, so unique, into their skin.

She’ll let them pick from a whole set of stuffed animals to hold while she works, and she sings softly, almost more to herself than anything else, while she does it.

Sometimes, the newbies are confused when they come back to thank Kara for the amazing job she did, only to see her laughing it up with bikers with intricate sleeves poking out of their cut-off jackets. They make her blush and she makes them laugh, but her art speaks for itself, and they speak to others, so they all keep coming back, because Kara Danvers gives one helluva badass tattoo.

But when her usual florist closes up shop to experiment with business in a city with less alien attacks, Kara finds herself wondering into a small boutique on the other side of town, on a mission to find the perfect lily as the muse for the appointment she has early next week.

“Excuse me,” she calls, adjusting her glasses and looking around the small shop.

She nearly trips over herself when the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen pokes her head out of the back room, a book in her hand and glasses perched just so on her face. The woman takes the glasses off right away and closes the book, careful to mark her page with her index finger.

“What can I do you for?” she asks with a tentative almost-smile, her Irish accent and the intensity behind her eyes making Kara gulp and adjust her glasses and try not to trip over her words.

Keep reading

Too Much

MASTERLIST

Requested: no A/N: I’m in Norway so this is a planned post. p>

Word count: 2,239

My back was resting against the soft, white pillow. I pulled the covers higher, covering my entire body. I felt cold, but it had nothing to do with the temperature in the bedroom, it was all about the enormous fight Shawn and I had earlier. Fighting with him always made me feel so cold, so tired and completely drained from any sort of energy. I was reading a book or at least trying to, but I hardly managed to read a single page.

Honestly, I just needed something to distract me from the fact that Shawn had left the apartment in anger and I hadn’t heard from him since.

Keep reading

What Did I Do To Deserve You?

As requested a while back, Daddy kink Logan, i have sinned.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: Smut, pure smut.DADDY KINK. its just porn bro, oral sex (both recieving) fingering, DaddyKink!Logan,  heavy snoggin’. face-sitting, praise, worship, etcetc.

A/N: GIF isn’t mine

~

The moonlight shone through the window of your room, the white and blue rays illuminating the pale sheets of the bed. The night was young, winter, only 7 in the evening.

You sauntered over the room towards the window pane, dressed in only a t-shirt and panties, your hair still damp from your shower and a book in hand. You had gone through all of the ones on your shelf and this was the last one left unread: The Double.

The moon was full, the sky was clear and it had only a few stray clouds, a clear, rain-free night nonetheless. You always wondered what space was like, personally, the feeling of weightlessness and silence surrounding you, the earth behind you as you floated far away.

You looked back to see the sleeping and lightly snoring Logan sprawled out on your bed, still in his combat gear from the previous mission he came back from earlier in the evening.

He looked so at peace, so gentle and quiet.

As you sat next to him on the soft mattress, you set your book on the bedside table. Lifting a gentle hand to his forehead, you brushed some stray hairs from his face, gliding your fingers against his soft skin.Logan grunted as he fluttered his eyes open and smiled once he saw you.

Rolling onto his back, he winced.

“What’s wrong baby? Are you injured from the mission?”

Logan grunted whilst nodding his head. “I uh, I feel a pulling sensation in my shoulders and back, doll, could you help me get this shit off please?” He muttered, motioning to his combat vest and trousers.

“Of course, honey, do you want me to run you a hot shower afterwards?” You asked, your fingers deftly unzipping everything that was unzippable.

“Mhm, please, sugar,” Logan mumbled before placing an innocent kiss to your plump lips.

Fast forward to 20 minutes, Logan had been in the shower for about half that time. You occupied your time by reading more of the book in your palms. You were so engulfed that you didn’t notice Logan sauntering out of the bathroom.

What you DID notice was the towel hanging so low on his waist he may as well have not worn it at all. You licked your lips at the sight of the hair on his torso, trailing all the way from the v of his hips to his chest.

“You’re staring again, Y/N.” Smirking, he placed a hand on the edge of the towel, tugging it down a little, the glistening of his wet body making you bite your lip at the thought of what lay underneath.

“Can’t I admire the art?” You smiled up at him, placing your book onto your bedside table once again. You ushered him to come and sit on the bed, he winced at the feeling of his muscles stretching.

“How about a massage?”

“What did I do to deserve you, sugar?” You giggled at the little nickname, raising to your knees and kneeling behind him. You started to knead his muscles, placing light little kisses in your wake. You hit a certain spot near his shoulder blade which made him groan.

“Mm, it feels so good Y/N. Please keep going.” You felt a pang of heat between your thighs as he kept sighing and groaning, the odd curse coming out then and there.

As your fingers kneaded the muscle between his neck and shoulders, Logan whipped around and captured your lips in a searing kiss which would have made your knees buckle and collapse if you were standing.

“You’re my rock, you know that, sugar?” He smiled against your lips. Logan laced his fingers through your hair as he laid you down on the bed, his free hand coming to nudge your knees apart so he could snake his way in between them.

“So, so beautiful, and all mine, all mine.” You whimpered as he started to place agonizingly slow kisses down your neck, the mixture of tongue and teeth making you arch your back and raise your hips. You felt the growing hardness of him grinding against your heat, and the sensation made you moan.

“Oh, Jesus…”

“Jesus can’t save you now, kitten. Now would you be a good girl for me and stay still for me? Can you do that?” You nodded at him, “I need you to use your words baby.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He hummed planted wet kisses down your lithe body, skimming the curves of your waist and hips and thighs, you let out small moans and whines as Logan’s lips skipped past your sex, he was always such a fucking tease.

“You want these off, princess?” You looked down and saw his index finger curled over the band of your panties, pinging them twice against your hip bone.

“Please,” You keened.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Daddy.” your fingers raked through the soft tresses of his hair. Your hips writhe upwards as he pulled the fabric down your thighs tantalizingly slow. As they got to your calves, Logan raised to his knees and bent your legs upwards, kissing along your skin, worshiping you.

“You can get these back later…” Logan spread your legs with one hand as the other tossed your panties across the room, you giggled as you watched them land on a lamp on your desk whilst feeling your boyfriend’s lips against your collarbone. You felt the hard line of Logan’s cock underneath his towel, and you bucked your hips upwards but stopped.

“I wanna please you tonight, I wanna make tonight about you, can I?” Your voice was lower than a whisper, and you swore you could feel his cock twitch against the pressed up fabric of the towel. Logan raised his head and kissed you fervently, his tongue swiping at your bottom lip, coaxing you to open your mouth, so you did. As you felt is tongue stroke against yours, you both let out moans, the vibration sending shocks of warmth down to your core,  making you ground your hips against his.

“Anything you want, my love,” Logan mumbled against your lips, you pecked him lightly and used your strong thighs to roll him over and straddle him, his hands resting at the curve of your waist

“What am I allowed to do, Daddy?” You batted your eyelashes at him as you stroked his broad chest, your hands drifting lower and lingering over the edge of his towel.

“Like I said angel, anything you want…” He bit his lips as you shifted down his legs, tugging the bath towel off of his hips.

His cock sprung up and you licked your lips, taking him in your soft hands. You stroked him up and down for a few seconds before lowering your mouth to his tip, softly licking the head. He groaned lowly as his fingers laced through your hair, guiding your mouth up and down his length. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked on his tip, slowly flicking your tongue against him.

You popped him out of your mouth, looking up at him through your lashes as you licked a long stripe from base to tip and you watched him groan loudly and throw his head back.

“That’s my good girl, get my cock all wet baby, show me how nasty you can be, hmm?” At his word you spat on his cock, making him wet and lubricated as you lowered your head onto him some more. You relaxed your throat and took all of him in, deep-throating him.

“Oh Y/N, baby, that feels so good, you naughty little minx.”

You looked at him through your lashes again, seeing him biting his lip as you reached your small hand up to his balls, massaging them carefully as you kissed up and down his shaft again, lightly sucking at the underside, right on top of the thick vein.

“You like that, Daddy? Am I doing good?”

“Y-Yes baby, fuck, oh God, fuck- k-keep doing that, I love it when you suck my cock like this, princess. Such a good girl for your daddy…” You moaned at his words, the wetness between your legs slowly sliding down your thighs and you reached down to tease your clit, moaning once more and earning a choked whimper through Logan’s lips as the vibrations went through his cock.

“I’m gonna cum baby, where do you want it?” You hummed and took all of him in your mouth, licking and sucking as you kept bobbing your head up and down. You suddenly felt a hot, thick liquid enter your mouth, swallowing it down- trying not to gag at the salty and sweet taste.

You released him as a little bit of cum dribbled from your lips and onto your chin, Logan leaned up and wiped it with his thumb and brought it to your mouth. You suckled on his thumb, collecting everything that he had on it. He placed a delicate but passionate kiss upon your lips again, the erotic taste of himself lingering on his tongue as he pulled away.

“Oh Y/N, what did I do in my life to deserve you in my life, hmm? C'mon, I want to do something new.” He gripped your hips in his large hands, squeezing and massaging.

“W-What is this ‘new thing’ Daddy?”

“Sit on my face, baby, I know you wanted tonight to be about me, so let me do this one thing, please?”

“O-Okay, um, could you…?” Gesturing to his hands, silently asking him to help you up onto his level.

As your pussy hovered over his face, you felt his short breaths fan over your heat, making you gasp. Logan smirked at your blushing state and lowered your hips down, connecting his mouth to your wet pussy.

“Hmmm,” He hummed, “so wet for me, sugar, is this all for me?”

“Y-Yes!” You gasped as you felt a large hand spank you lightly on your ass and his soft tongue running lightly up and down you folds.

“Yes what, Y/N?”

“Yes, Daddy I-oh, fuck. More please, please Daddy!”

Logan held you in place with his hands on your ass, dragging you down onto his face as his tongue darted out to lick you and taste you. You moaned Logan’s name at the feeling of his wet tongue drawing circles against your clit, which earned you a hard spank to your ass cheek again.

“Nuh-uh, that’s not my name at the moment baby girl, what is it? Hmm?” He kept lightly spanking you until you could form the strength to speak through the intense pleasure of his tongue.

“D-Daddy, oh, fuck!” You shouted as you felt Logan’s wonderful tongue probing against the entrance of your pussy. He licked lightly at your labia, sucked hard on your clit and it made you grind your pussy hard onto his face, you realised what you had done and jolted your hips back, but Logan’s strong hands kept them in place.

You let out something between a sharp moan and a whine as you felt one cool, calloused finger nudge your pussy lips apart, sliding slowly inside and curling against your g-spot.

“Hnng, you like that baby? Hmm?”

"F-Fuck yes, Daddy, I love it so much, please k-keep going!” You cried out as you felt Logan suck hard on your clit whilst he inserted another finger into your throbbing heat, both probing against your g-spot.

“You gonna cum, kitten? My beautiful Y/N is gonna cum, isn’t she?”

With his hoarse words and the flicking of his tongue against your bundle of nerves, you let the coil in your lower stomach unravel and you became a moaning, arching, grinding mess. You came so hard you had to bite down on your arm to stop from screaming the whole tower down, leaving teeth indents on your tanned skin.

Logan assumed your legs had gone weak, so he used his strong arms to lift you up and place you on his lap, stroking your hair and kissing your neck and face as you gained a steady breathing pattern once more, slightly gasping when your wetness rubbed against his still-hard cock.

“How do you feel, baby? Did that feel good?” He whispered, his lips ghosting against yours.

“Mmm, yes Daddy, I-I loved it. Thank you, can I kiss you?” You whispered, earning a 'mhmm’ from him. You connected your lips in a sweet and passionate kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue. You began to subconsciously roll your hips, trying to find more friction, you were wet and still so aroused you could cry.

“You want my cock, Y/N? Does my baby girl want her Daddy’s cock inside of her wet, warm, tight little pussy? You want it rough or soft, kitten? Hard or slow? Tell me, sweetheart.” Logan growled and tugged at the collar of your t-shirt, attacking your neck with his teeth and tongue, his dominance making you turn into putty in his hands.

“I-I don’t know, whatever feels- oh, that feels so good!” You hissed as Logan bit down hard onto the patch of skin between your shoulder and neck, he tapped on the fabric of your t-shirt, asking permission to take it off, and you lifted your arms in consent. His mouth assaulted your collarbones, kissing down your chest as his hands squeezed your breasts, his tongue flicking across each nipple with wanton need.

You rolled over onto your back, Logan’s muscular frame hovering above yours and pinning your arms above your head with one hand as his other tickled down your body, earning some happy giggles from your lips.

“Lo-Daddy, t-that tickles- ah!” He chuckled with you, pressing his lips everywhere from your face to your neck to your chest. You let out a content sigh when his fingers stopped dancing against your skin and instead started stroking your wet folds, preparing you for the thick cock that was yet to fill you up.

“You want my thick, hard cock inside you, Y/N? You want me pushing you to the edge, making you cum so hard you scream my name?” You nodded as you bit your lip, his tip slotting in your entrance. “I need you to use your words, kitten, speak up.”

“Yes, Daddy, I want your cock inside me, I want to cum so hard around you, I want you to abuse my pussy, mold it into the shape of your cock, please,” You writhed against him, your hips bucking against his cock, wanting more, more, more.

As Logan slid his cock all the way in, you both let out moans and groans. The feeling of being filled with your boyfriend’s thick cock almost made you cum then and there, but the non-existent movement of his hips helped you calm yourself.

“Go slow, please Daddy…” At your words, Logan moved on queue, his hips creating a slow rocking motion, the curve of his cock rubbing against THAT spot, your bodies moved against each other like waves, one of his hands were in your hair, tugging very lightly, and the other was on your hip, keeping you in place as he fucked slowly into your wet heat.

You let out a low moan as he slid all the way out and slammed back into you, hard. Logan kept his slow pace until you wrapped your legs against his hips, your ankles digging into his ass, bringing him closer, he ground against you, the soft stubble in his pubic area rubbing against your bundle of nerves.

He started to quicken his pace, the wet slapping of skin and your heavy breaths and light moans filling the room. The wet squelching sound of his cock sinking deep inside you at a fast pace made your pussy quiver around him, earning a loud groan to rip from his chest. He licked and sucked on your neck, leaving small hickeys here, there and everywhere.

“F-fuck, princess, Daddy wants to take you from behind, can he do that?” You nodded as you looked into his eyes, his pupils stretched so wide he barely had any iris left.

He slipped his cock out of your abused pussy, lightly spanking it with his cock, “You gonna be a good little girl, Y/N, and take Daddy’s cock from the back? You gonna let Daddy fuck you doggy style, hm?” His voice was gruff and hoarse as you clambered onto your hands and knees.

“Spread your legs, sweetness, Daddy wants to see that pretty pink pussy of yours.” You opened your legs and immediately felt Logan’s deft fingers part your folds, teasing your slit and spreading your slick from your entrance to your clit, making you gasp and Logan your hips backwards against his fingers as he slowly pumped them in and out only once.

You felt Logan’s thighs press against yours as he lined himself up to your entrance once more, his hand on the soft skin of your back, urging you to arch your back.

He started a slow pace again, his cock pumping in and out of you at a torturing speed, you felt every vein of him throb inside your wanton pussy, your muscles slightly spasming around his girth. Logan started to shift his hips a little faster, leaning over and curling his fist into your hair, yanking backwards as his hips started to slam roughly into yours.

He pulled you up by your hair, his hand wrapping around your throat and the hand in your hair snaking around your hips to toy with your throbbing, engorged clit.

You moaned at all of the sensations.

“You like it when I choke you?” His hand squeezed your throat a little tighter, making your eyes roll back as the pleasure spread through your whole body. “You like it when Daddy abuses your pussy, making you scream and moan and squirm?”

“Y-Ye-s!” You choked out, feeling your orgasm rising. Logan spanked you so hard you knew your ass would be a pretty red for the rest of the week.

“Yes, what?” You felt his plump lips move against your earlobe as he growled the words.

“Y-yes DADDY! AH!” Logan spanked your clit lightly, making another jolt of intense pleasure roll through your body, goosebumps rising at the new feeling.

He raised a hot hand to your breasts, tweaking both hard nipples one at a time before moving his fingers against your clit again, drawing hard and slow circles around the sensitive nub.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum!” You gasped.

“Then cum, my sweet Y/N, I’m right behind you, ahh, fuck, baby.”

A few spanks to your clit and you were a goner, your hands braced on the headboard as your pussy quivered and contracted against Logan’s thick cock. White spots started to flash before your eyes and your breathing hitched. You soon heard Logan’s loud groans as he shot thick ribbons of hot cum inside your core.

As you came down from the euphoric feeling of your mind blowing orgasm, Logan slipped his slowly softening cock out of your hole, bringing you to curl up against his chest as he laid down, his rough hands rubbing your soft skin.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl. I love you so much, Y/N.” You turned around to face him, your hands stroking against the stubble on his jaw.

“I love you too, Logan, now let’s get some rest before the sun rises.”

Mutual Destruction - Jeff Atkins x Reader // Part One

ManEater!(fem)reader and Womaniser!Jeff (lemme know if this is good enough to carry on, I’m planning for it to have multiple parts)

Part Two

Playlist (optional):

Muse - OCAD

Are You Gonna Be My Girl - Jet

If there was one thing she loved, it was a good challenge. Montgomery De La Cruz was a BIG challenge. Huge. Thriving jock and pretty well known with the ladies, she’d had her eye on the boy for a while, wondering what flavour girl baseball players were into.

Helmet down by his side, he ruffled through his hair as he leaned against the batting cages taking a breather. Yum. He was well built, and his cheekbones were so sharp they would slice her if she wasn’t careful.

However, Y/N wasn’t a feelings kinda gal, and word on the street had it that Monty was a feelings kinda guy, beneath the hotheaded jock exterior.

It was a hot summers day, and Y/N was certainly feeling hot right now. She sucked on her necklace, it was a nervous habit of hers. She was sat in the bleachers, arms out behind her, soaking up the sun. Today, she had a free period, and although there was initial intent to study, it had all gone out the window the second she had seen that cute little baseball outfit that fit Monty oh-so-well.

Although he was in her social circles, and they had the occasional conversation, she didn’t know Monty too well. She’d witnessed a fair few fights between the boy and people who’d got on his nerves, and wondered if his temper translated elsewhere, too.

She watched as Cruz leaned his foot up behind him, and his wandering eyes found her. She smiled mischievously, and began to make her way over to him.

The net created a barrier between the two of them. Monty turned as he saw Y/N approaching.

“L/N.” he announced, holding his helmet in both hands. “What gives me the pleasure?”

“I’m a little bored over there, and you looked like you were taking a break, so I thought, I’ll go talk to him.” She smirked, lacing her fingers through the netting. The boy smirked in response.

“Well, you don’t have long, I should be back soon-ish.” He teased. “I was wondering, we’ve known each other years right? So how come we never went out?” She raised her sculpted eyebrow.

Monty chuckled. “You’ve always been too busy with other guys, Y/N.”

“That’s not true. You’ve just never had the balls to ask me out.” She joked.

“I have, L/N, multiple times. You’ve always turned me down.” He looked sincere.

“I’m starting to see that was a mistake.” She fiddled with the netting, keeping her eyes on Monty.

“CRUZ, BACK ON PLAY!” Jeff Atkins called to the boy in front of her.

“I’ll see you round, Cruz.” She walked backwards, loosely waving her fingers at him, before collecting her things and deciding the library would be best to study.

“Damn man, timing.” Monty was pissed at Jeff.

“You’ll get no where with that one anyway, I did you a favour.” Jeff said as he raised his bat to the ball coming toward him. Monty stuffed his helmet back onto his head.

“How would you know? She was into me, man.” Monty argued.

Jeff raised his eyebrows. “No, she wasn’t. She does that with everyone.”

“Shut up, Jeff, you wouldn’t know what you’re talking about. You do that with everyone.” Monty hit the incoming ball with excessive force.

“Exactly.”

“You’re stupid.”

Jeff chuckled. “Whatever you say, man, don’t cry to me when she chews you up and spits you out.”

“You talking about Y/N L/N?” Bryce Walker swaggered up to the batting cages, swinging his bat around.

“She was flirting with me real hard.” Monty smirked at Bryce.

“I agree with Jeff, don’t go near her. Major whore.” He spat.

“That’s not what i meant, Bryce. I just meant that she’s not the girl for our delicate little Monty.” Jeff was Bryce’s #1 hater. He was just a huge asshole and Jeff didn’t roll with that.

“But she is a slut. I can’t believe you’d even try to go there, Cruz.” He chuckled to himself.

“Shut the fuck up Bryce, she can do what she wants.” Jeff tried to drown out his sickly voice by concentrating 100% on hitting the balls coming his way, maybe pretending they were Bryce’s head.

—-

Y/N shoved her books into her locker, she’d done enough work for the day. From nowhere, she could sense a presence that made her more than slightly uneasy. Chills climbed up her bones, a feeling she recognised oh so well, anytime he was near. Turning, her suspicions were confirmed. Zach Dempsey. The boy who had blown her heart out of her chest and ripped it into so many pieces she could no longer feel it. Not even all the walls she’d put up since could stop the wound stinging each and every time she saw his face, or heard his voice. It was a struggle to see the blindingly adorable smile plastered to his face and not feel something. He had made her who she was today, whether that was a good thing, or a bad thing.

From the corner of her eye, she watched as he joked around with his friends, clearly so unaffected by her proximity. There was no need for her to torture herself like this.

“Hey, Y/N.” Montgomery had come up behind her and leant against the lockers, whilst she had been in deep in her thoughts.

“You’re back?” Her usual confident charisma returned to her as though there had been no slip in the first place. She smirked at the boy, closing her locker and mimicking his actions.

“Looks like I am. So, i have a question?” Monty was nervous, she could tell.

“Shoot.”

“How do you feel about Rosie’s?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“They do pretty awesome milkshakes.” She replied coolly.

“How do you feel about going with me? Tonight maybe, 7ish?” Proposed Monty, coughing slightly.

She grinned cheekily. “I might turn up, I’ll see how I’m feeling.”

—–

“Y/N, can I have a word with you?” Mrs Reed, the psychology teacher, stopped her as she was leaving.

“Uh, yeah, what is it?” Y/N asked.

“As much as you like to hide at the back and pretend you know nothing, you do have the highest grades in the class.” Mrs Reed began.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Apologised Y/N.

“Don’t be, but I would like you to do me a favour. How do you feel about tutoring?” She asked.

“In psychology?” Y/N was baffled.

“Well, yes.”

“I suppose I wouldn’t be opposed to it, it would probably help me study.” Despite hating to admit to it, Y/N was top of most of her classes, and worked very hard for her grades.

“I have suggested to Mr Jeff Atkins that you may tutor him in psychology.”

“Jeff? He needs tutoring?” This shocked her. Jeff Atkins was a baseball champion, and one of the most popular guys at school. They were acquainted with each other.

“I believe so, if he wants a baseball scholarship to colleges next year, he will need at least a C.”

“What’s he on right now?”

“Anything below a C.”

“But how? Psychology is simple-”

“Not to everyone, Miss L/N.”

“Right, sorry.”

“Do Monday lunchtimes and after school Wednesday’s work for you? You will get extra credit if you decide to do this.” Her eyes scorched Y/N. She was clearly determined to help Jeff out.

“Yeah that works. Thank you, Mrs Reed.” Y/N smiled before leaving the classroom.

How on earth was she going to tutor Jeff Atkins in psychology?

Why Me? (Reggie x Reader)


A/N: Just a quick little dabble that I did.

As the girls scanned the book in front of them they wonder what to do.

“We have to tell them” Betty said knowing that it was the best idea.

“But about the other girls? Some people don’t even know they’re in here. Why would we cause them the shame that we’re feeling?” Ethel explained “It’s not fair”

“I think Ethel right” Cheryl said speaking for the first time since they open the book. Everyone looked at her not really expecting her to care about others. But one person knew the truth.

“You’re only saying that since you don’t want Jason poor image that everyone had of him to be gone” Veronica claimed while she crossed her arms, she knew damn well what Cheryl was thinking.

“That’s not it” Cheryl yelled but no one listen instead they waited for Betty to speak as she was the one holding the book. Betty looked around at all of the girls in front of her and thought for a moment what she was going to do. Polly was there and this could help her with their parents but did she really want to put others through this pain of being slut shamed? She knew what she wanted finally and opened her mouth

“We’re going to go to the principle with this. That’s the finally answer so if you don’t like it you’re going to have to deal with it.” Betty demanded but no one objected. “So to help us with all of this, we’re going to split up in pairs to let the girls know before the school does” Everyone nodded their head and picked a girl.


 Betty and Veronica standard side by side looking at the sea of people moving through the hallway. This was the last girl that needed to hear the truth. It was Y/N L/N. Betty always thought of you as a sweet girl who couldn’t do no harm but now she could only think about the damaged girl you would become. The girls made their way over to the bleachers where you were sitting reading your book. Betty figured you were waiting on Reggie since he had football practice, after all he was the reason you were in the book.

“Hey Y/N” Veronica said as she took a spot right next to you. You looked up at the two confused on why they were here but smiled anyway. Sure you guys never talked but you weren’t going to be rude.

“What brings you guys here?” You asked wanting to get straight to the point, it was a odd thing to you. Betty and Veronica give each other a look before they both look away to where the boys were playing.

“You do actually”  Betty let out not making eye contact. This was going to be harder than she thought.

“Me?” You questioned taken back for a moment but you continued on “What would you guys need to talk to me about?”  Veronica let you wonder for a minute before she spoke up.

“It’s Reggie”

“What about him?”

“He did something that you should know about before it gets out there”

“Hold now, get out there?” You questioned more confused than ever. What did that boy do now?

“Yeah, well he’s on the football team obviously” Veronica as she waved her arms toward them. You nodded your head not really knowing where she was going with this.

“This isn’t something that’s lightly, Umm well you see the team has a book. Where they keep track of who hooks up with who” As the words rolled off of her tongue you knew then. Reggie Mantle had put you in there, thanks to your causally fun with each other.

“I heard enough” You told them as you stood up from your spot. You look out on the field feeling betrayed by Reggie, you thought you guys meant something more then some name in a book.

“There’s more to know” Betty piped in but you didn’t want to listen. You put up your hand to stop her.

“I personally don’t care.” You raged, oh how Mantle would pay for this one. “Do whatever you pleases” You walk away from the two not caring about what they were going to do. Obviously they were going to tell since they mentioned it. You were hurt and in pain. Reggie was something special to you. You knew you were falling for the boy and before you could say anything about it you were already regretting it. But as you did walk all you could wonder was why. Why did he do it? Why?

Stress Cleaning (ALiL Deleted Scene)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re too stressed to get any schoolwork done so Bucky offers an alternative plan.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,370

A/N: An anon requested The reader is really stressed and Bucky helps her calm down. It’d be cool to see them clean the kitchen together and joke around. This occurs between “The Little Things (Part One)” and “The Little Things (Part Two)” I should be doing work and preparing for finals, but I was too stressed so I wrote this instead

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

Originally posted by calif0rnia-lovers

You stare at your textbook, willing the words on the page to somehow become more interesting. When they don’t, you move the book from the table onto your lap in the hopes that this new angle will help you absorb what you’re reading. After you catch yourself skimming over the same paragraph for what is now the third time in a row, you slam the textbook closed in frustration.

Midterms are upon you and what you should be doing is studying for the exams you have this week. Unfortunately for you, your brain is not in compliance with this plan. It wants nothing to do with the study guides, outlines, and index cards you’ve created. You had hoped that switching gears and reading straight from your textbook might work, but that attempt failed just as badly as the rest.

You lean forward and rest your forehead on the edge of the cool, wooden table as hopelessness and frustration overwhelm your senses. The last thing you should be doing right now is nothing, and yet, nothing is all you can bring yourself to do.

“Hard at work I see.”

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FOB Asks

i don’t see a lot of fall out boy-related asks, so i figured i’d make one myself! ask me anything, or reblog if you want asked these questions!

take this to your grave: what’s a secret you usually don’t tell people?

from under the cork tree: do you have a favorite childhood book?

infinity on high: who’s your favorite artist?

folie a deux: what’s something about yourself that you feel is underappreciated?

soul punk: do you like working solo or with others?

save rock and roll: if you had to pick one genre of music to listen to, what would it be?

american beauty/american psycho: what’s something that drives you crazy?

m a  n   i    a: have you ever had a panic attack?

grand theft autumn: (if you like boys) do you prefer rebel boys, or gentlemen?

dance, dance: what song makes you dance every time?

sugar, we’re going down: do you hunt? are you against hunting?

this ain’t a scene, it’s an arms race: do you hold grudges, or prefer to keep things civil?

disloyal order of water buffaloes: what are your favorite and least favorite fall out boy albums?

headfirst slide into cooperstown on a bad bet: have you lost any big bets?

my songs know what you did in the dark: have you ever set something on fire?

centuries: are you afraid of not being remembered?

uma thurman: who’s your favorite actor?

drunk history: (if you drink) what kind of drunk are you?

young blood chronicles: do you like violent movies (action, etc), or do you like calmer ones (romance, Disney, etc.)?

I Can't Take It!

            “I can’t bloody take it anymore!” Were the words screamed in Draco’s face as he opened the door. He blinked rapidly at the fuming redhead in front of him. Weasley. That was someone he hadn’t seen in years, not since the final battle.

            “Excuse you?” Draco reprimanded with an arched brow. He honestly had no idea what was happening here. He must have mixed up his ingredients when making his potion this morning, causing a severe hallucination. Because that was the only explanation his mind could come up with at the moment.

            “At first, I thought I was just delusional, seeing things where there was nothing but I know I’m not.”

            Draco blinked rapidly as he too concluded the man was delusional. Something he had always known to be true.

            “You keep writing books about Harry!”

            Every rational thought left the blonde as dread filled his stomach. There was no way that Weasley had figured it out. His mother was blissfully unaware of who his muse was, his friends were just as clueless, all wondering who could possibly be the one he was desperately pining after. The whole world was blind but yet Weasley had discovered his secret?

            “Don’t give me that look!” Weasley spat hotly. “It’s just so obvious. I don’t understand why no one but me thinks so! I see your stupid books everywhere. Witches giggle in their offices at work, completely engrossed in your horribly sappy novels.” A pause as a freckled nose wrinkled in disgust.

            “I can’t go into Diagon Alley without seeing your ugly face plastered from every window, advertising this travesty.”

            Ugly? Draco huffed angrily as he listened somewhat impatiently to the hogwash spewing out of Weasley’s mouth.

            “My own wife reads them and badgers me incessantly about reading them too!”

            That had Draco wincing, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Granger reading his works. It was a little uncomfortable, if he was being honest.

            “I can’t even go to my parents without seeing your entire collection stacked against the wall. My mother reads them!” A pitiful moan escaped. “My own mum!”

            A trickle of amusement was making its way inside of Draco. Oh, he was still annoyed and ticked off but seeing Weasley in so much distress because of him, was lifting his spirits.

            “I have put up with this for years and I can’t take it anymore!” Weasley took a step forward, which Draco was loath to admit made him want to take a step back. The man was clearly mental.

            “You have to tell Harry how you feel.” Begged the disturbed wanker. “I can’t take another novel. I can’t take the pining! I can’t take the whining! I can’t take another fucking thing! If I have to listen to one more person tell me how ‘wonderfully heartbreaking’ your stories are, I will either murder you, Harry or myself.” A pause. “And I can’t honestly tell you which one of us is at the forefront of that. Perhaps I will kill us all and be done with it.”  

            Threats weren’t something new to Draco but this was the first time he had been on the receiving end of one done so vehemently.

            “I’m an Auror.” Weasley unnecessarily reminded him, as if he hadn’t been aware of this. “I know how to murder someone and make it appear as an accident. They’ll never find your body.” The sheer conviction in the promise was almost staggering.

            Draco rolled his eyes as he looked to the sky, debating about hexing the crazy redhead.

            “Are you finished?” He drawled with an exaggerated yawn, hoping to get rid of Weasley.

            Blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You know what is the worst part of all of this?”

            The question was obviously rhetorical but Draco shook his head anyways, hoping this would be the last thing said on the topic.

            “Harry loves your books.”

            Draco’s breath caught in his throat as he swallowed heavily and looked away from Weasley for the first time.

            “He talks about them constantly, mentions his favorite parts, grins goofily as he reads your novels in public. Every single book is handled with care and patience. He adores them and you by extension.”

            Words had long ago left Draco, he didn’t know what to say at all. Couldn’t think of anything. For someone who made a living off of words and formulating beautiful lines, this was almost embarrassing.

            “I don’t like you.” Weasley continued on. “Never have and might not ever will.”

            Again, Draco rolled his eyes. The feeling was entirely mutual.

            “But.” The man whispered softly. “It’s painfully obvious that you love Harry.” Blue eyes searched his and Draco felt as if his blackened soul was being judged.  

            “The things you write deserve to be said not just written. Harry deserves this, deserves this kind of attention and deserves the love you put into those stupid pages.” There was a slight reddening of Weasley’s cheeks. It was obvious he despised complimenting Draco on his books.

            “Just do something. Please. While I can’t take another one of your books, I really can’t take Harry’s self-deprecating responses as to why it just isn’t possible that he is the target of your obsession.”

            He would have liked to rudely point out that it wasn’t an obsession but he was distracted with the rest of the statement.

            Weasley took a deep sigh. “Just think about it.” As violently as the conversation began, it ended with a soft whisper and pleading eyes.

            Draco watched Weasley walk slowly away from his front door, so slowly that it was obvious he was hoping to be called back.

            This was life changing. He could slam the door and pretend that this whole disaster had been a hallucination and never think about it again… or he could take a Gryffindor plunge into bravery and do what the characters in his books do, which was get their man.

            “Weasley!” Draco called out, making his decision. “Get your horrid arse back here.”

            The way red brows arched, silently asking for more, had Draco huffing. Who knew the man was a sadist too?

           “Help me ensnare a Gryffindor.“

           A frighteningly wicked grin appeared on the redhead’s face, causing Draco to question if he had just sold away his soul to a starving Dementor. Merlin, help him. 

Part Two , A03 Author Page

Before you met Harry, you liked to describe yourself as a relatively emotionless robot of a person. This didn’t necessarily mean you had a resting bitch face on at all times, it just meant it was harder for you to express yourself through your feelings. You were used to people accusing you of being sarcastic when you were really trying to give a genuine compliment, and your body was used to automatically stiffening up whenever someone came at you with open arms for a hug. The one time you gave a hug was when Y/F/N was going through a breakup. It wasn’t a proper hug, though. It was one of those awkward side hugs followed by a reassuring pat on the back. It was still a hug in your mind. The point was, showing and giving any kind affection was extremely hard for you. Which was how Harry came up with this conclusion: 

“You don’ love me. Is tha’ it?”  You choked on your tea when that came out of Harry’s mouth after you had asked him what was on his mind. 

“What in the hell- I think all those kale smoothies have gone straight to your head.” You coughed, patting your chest lightly before closing the novel you were reading. This was more interesting than your mystery-murder novel. 

“I’m jus’ pointing out the fact that you’ve never actually said it to me. I’m the one that’s always saying it to you!” 

“Yeah, and I say it back!” 

“No, no,” Harry scoffed, shaking his head before giving you a pointed look. “You give me a, ‘mhm, me too’. That is not how you respond to an ‘I love you’!” 

“But I’ve said it before!” It was true, you did say it to Harry once! It was when you were in a rush because you had spent the morning snuggling with Harry instead of getting ready for work, and before you ran out you might’ve let an ‘I love you’ slip out - But in Harry’s defense, that really was the only time you’d ever said that. 

“So you do love me?” 

“Of course I- Well, I don’t know, I guess-”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Harry gasped dramatically, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. Harry was fully aware that you loved him, but it was always fun riling you up and getting you flustered over this. 

“Christ, Harry, I love you!” You groaned, pursing your lips in frustration. “I love you, alright? Is that what you wanted?” You huffed, opening your book and flipping back to your page. You could already feel your cheeks heating up from those three words. It was silly how three words had such a huge impact on you. 

“Say it again,” Harry demanded quietly, leaning forward and propping his chin up on his palm. “C’mon, you know I deserve a proper one.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, closing your book slowly and clearing your throat. 

“I… I love.. you.” You managed to push out, your face probably beet red at this point. 

“I need t’ hear it in a coherent sentence if it’s genuine, Y/N.” Harry knew exactly how to push your buttons and you couldn’t decide whether you hated it or loved it. With a sigh and a quiet huff, you managed to finally say it in a coherent sentence

“I love you. I really do, Harry.” You muttered, looking up at him for a second before glancing away. You couldn’t say it while keeping eye contact because that would make you melt into a puddle. Silence was the only thing you got in response, and you kind of wished you didn’t say anything in the first place. You looked up to see Harry drumming at his pursed lips with his pointer finger, looking as if he was contemplating something. 

“I don’t buy it. Not enough emotion.” Harry joked, making your jaw drop slightly before you were pushing your bottom lip out in a pout. 

“Why, you little-” You raised your hand, very much wanting to give him a swat across the arm. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Harry giggled, grabbing your hand and pulling it slightly closer to him. “I loved it. I love you.” He hummed, pressing a delicate kiss to your knuckles. Now you wanted even more to melt into a puddle because this was almost too adorable. 

“Mhm, me too.” Back to square one. 

+

gif isn’t mine!

Black and White (Part 1)

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

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

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

Word Count: 3250

Warnings: None yet

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


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

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

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