i still got nothing better to do

you know what i love? established apocalypse aesthetics

  • leaves and flowers and trees growing out of abandoned houses and cars, smashing glass windows, invading and reclaiming the spaces humanity took from them
  • warning scrawled hastily on the sides of buildings in spraypaint or in blood; don’t come here, it’s not safe. turn away, go back. we died here. you will too.
  • notes and messages scattered across the world, addressed to people who never saw them or never lived to reply to them. rachel, we’re alive. david, don’t look for us. amy, dad got bit, please come home, we need you. kim, i love you. 
  • people broken into tiny groups. society shattered. they are past the anger, past denial, past trying to fix any of it. now there is only begrudging acceptance, and the knowledge that nothing is ever going to get better. the only thing they can do is survive.
  • a skeleton lying at the foot of a tree, flowers blooming in its ribcage. a bloodstained note in its front pocket. ‘sorry, mom’. travelers see it and barely spare a thought; such things are commonplace.
  • roaming packs of dogs and cats still wearing their collars, centuries of domestication breaking down under the need to live and to keep living
  • families born of blood and sacrifice. trading stories over campfires about who they used to be, who they might have been, what they could have become if none of this ever happened. looks of understanding when someone loses a sister, a brother, a father. it happened to me, too.
  • abandoned bedrooms combed over for supplies, but the faded posters still hanging on the walls and the useless knickknacks on the shelves tell the stories of the people who lived there years ago
  • moss covering television sets, water lapping up into backyards, tree limbs shooting up through collapsed roofs, evidence of humanity being eroded one day at a time

I know there isn’t a ton of crossover between tumblr and the oTher site I post Fantomestein on (*cough* t/p/s/t/c) BUT, I am posting this here because I’m not sure what do to.

Ok, so, essentially, aforementioned website t*p*stic has decided to break all our hearts and be awful to creators by claiming rights over our work–modifying their TOS to include a right of first refusal. There’s more info/break down about it here

I’m honestly heartbroken over it. It is incredibly hard to maintain/post/make revenue off of the comic and this platform was actually helping me out a little. Not to mention helping garner new readers. The pages on t*pas get way more feedback than those here on tumblr, so pulling the comic is going to…sting. Haha, hoo boy. In short, as of this week, Fantomestein is only going to be available to read here on tumblr. I will be deleting everything from T*p*stic.

 Anyway, just wanted to put this out there as a warning (to those using the platform) and as a heads up to those who might be following the comic there. It looks like I am going to have to take everything down soon–and for the meantime, tumblr is all I’ve got. 

I have been wanting to set up a more official hosting site for a while now–but have not had the time, energy, resources to do so. I still have none of those things, but I guess now I have panic and desperation so *shrug* better than nothing? Necessity is the mother of invention…

Anyway, if you know anyone who reads the comic via t*p*stic, please let them know about the change! I am afraid to say anything on the site, as they have been known to block/report posts that tell readers to follow comics on other sites. Thanks for your help! 

This sucks. And I am very sad. 

Just for fun, let’s imagine the entire show is in Sherlock’s head. Let’s imagine, just for fun, that Sherlock is comatose due to his drug use. 

Oh, what the hell, let’s just make this an AU.

John is in the same room as he after he came back from Afghanistan with a hole in his shoulder, a tremor and a limp to show for it. 

Sherlock - he overheard one of the nurses using his name in the morning - receives no visitors. No one John can see anyway. Not that he receives them; Harry is too drunk, his mum is dead and his dad needs to stay far away from him if he knows what’s good for him. So John starts talking to Sherlock during the nights because he can’t - he’s afraid to - sleep. He talks about Afghanistan, about the books he reads, about his family, about his past. Even his horrible middle name. 

And when John finally gets released from the hospital - still with a limp, a tremor and a horrific scar - he still visits Sherlock. Every single day. He has nothing else to do anyway and Sherlock is a better listener than his therapist. But then there is Mary, who makes him smile - sort of -, who makes him alive - barely. 

Mary and he get married. But…

“Hi Sherlock. Sorry, I haven’t been in so much; honeymoon. You know. Anyway. So uh… yeah… got a newsflash. Mary is pregnant. She… uh… she took a test the morning of our wedding and didn’t tell me until we got back to the hotel. I’m going to be a father! Can you believe it? Me? A dad… oh God, Sherlock, what the Hell am I doing?”

“I love her. Of course, I do. I married her, but… I don’t… Jesus, I don’t even know what I’m doing. I just feel so numb. I don’t want… I never wanted a simple domestic life. I hate it. I hate her friends, I hate the dinners. I hate the evenings in front of the telly, watching the same shit over and over again. I can’t… I want to be normal. Sherlock, I… I thought she could give me that, that’d I’d be happy, eventually. But, this baby… I can’t do it, Sherlock. I am not a dad.”

“You know… it would be nice if you woke up. You could actually talk back instead of me just sitting here, talking your ears off. God, if you can hear me… you must hate me by now. Sorry… It’s just… there’s no one else. Isn’t that pathetic? A grown man who can turn to no one except for a comatose patient. Yeah… didn’t think so. Well, I need to go anyway. Take care, Sherlock. See you tomorrow.’’

Six Months Later

3:17 am

’‘Goodnight, Dr Watson, sorry to wake you up like this, but… well, he asked for you.”

“Who did?”

“Sherlock Holmes. The coma patient you visit? He… he woke up and he’s asking for you. Quite urgently.”

John doesn’t even realise he forgot his cane back home until Sherlock pointed it out to him, his pale eyes shining with mirth and John feels fresh air fill his lungs at the sight. 

Keep reading

Just the Three of Us??

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Mother!Reader

Summary: Bucky, out of all the beautiful women in the world, chose you and you can’t manage to wrap your head around it. Therefore, internal and external conflicts emerge.

A/N: A bit sad…cause I was feeling a bit sad…

“Cassie! Macie! Are you ready?!” You called up the stairs. You heard the thumping of tiny feet and your 4 year old twin girls came rushing down the stairs.

“Coming mommy!” They both said in unison. They hopped down on both sides of you immediately holding your hands.

“Look at my girls! So beautiful!” Cassie wore a yellow princess poofy dress and Macie wore a black princess poofy dress, “Now we’re ready for a party!”

“Do you think Bucky’s gonna be there?” Cassie asked as you made your way outside to the car.

You chuckled, “It’s possible,” you tell her. You and Bucky had been dating for a little over six months now. It was an unexpected thing, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi! This is just an idea if your interested, can you do a Phan smut where dan and Phil are best friends and had grown up together and one night ( they're both 17 or 18 or something ) phil calls dan and starts out really awkwardly initiating phone sex like " what are you wearing " and they're both kind of giggling in the beginning but then it kind of gets more serious and phil kind of just describes how he would fuck dan until they cum..? This would be rly great 👌👌

1123 words of regret


Phil smiled when his phone rang, rolling his eyes and reaching over to his bedside table to grab it. He knew who it was before he even looked.

Dan, his best friend of seven years, was calling him. He did this every night, since Phil left their home town to go to a private school about an hour drive away. Dan insisted on staying, fancy boarding school wasn’t for him, he didn’t want the stress, but it didn’t stop him from missing his best friend.

“Hi,” Phil muttered into the phone, slightly breathlessly, flopping back on his bed. He could hear Dan smile.

“Hey Phil,” he answered, and Phil could tell he was relaxing. That happened for him too; just hearing Dan’s voice helped him release the stress of the day.

“How was your day?” The other boy asked through the phone, his voice soft.

“Oh, it was alright,” Phil muttered, sighing and running his fingers through his already messy hair. “I have a lot of homework, believe me.”

“I can imagine,” Dan chuckled.

“Still going to those parties?”

“Yeah… I’ve got nothing better to do since you’re gone.”

Phil sighed.

“Christ, Dan, you can’t keep throwing your time away like this. You have potential for so much more.”

“You’ve said.”

“Because I believe it.” Phil stretched his arm above his head, spreading out on the bed to get more comfortable. “Sorry, just… I’m worried about you.”

“I know.” Dan took a deep breath, and went quiet. It was moments like these when Phil wished he was there, laying next to him, listening to him breathe. Maybe he was just being clingy.

“So…” Dan started in a lighter tone, breathing out a laugh. “What are you wearing, Lester?” He asked in mock seduction.

Phil rolled his eyes, slapping his hand over his forehead.

“We’re doing this, are we?”

“Why not?” Dan laughed. “You scared?”

Phil snorted. “Of what, your fashion judging abilities?”

“Just answer the question, dingus.”

“Hmm,” Phil hummed, looking down at himself. “Just blue boxers, at the moment. And a red button up.”

Dan tsked. “Not matching? I thought you were better than this, Phil.“ 

"Who are you, the fashion police?” He grumbled, and laughed. “Leave me alone, Dan, I can dress myself how I’d like.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

“What are you wearing, then?” Phil asked in an attempt at a seductive tone.

Dan chuckled breathily. “Nothing.”

“Yeah? Pic or it didn’t happen.”

Dan giggled. “You want a picture?”

“Kinda,” Phil muttered under his breath. He had seen Dan naked before, it wasn’t a big deal, and it comforted him that they were close enough to talk like this without it being uncomfortable.

“Oh, is Phil admitting his true feelings after all these years?” Dan asked teasingly, and Phil could hear him shift on the bed.

“Shut up, Howell. Don’t push it.”

“Or… what?” Dan hummed. “You’ll… punish me?”

The tone in Dan’s voice had changed, and it shocked through Phil’s stomach like lightning.

“Quit it.”

“Why? Am I turning you on?” Phil could almost hear Dan’s dumb smirk. “I bet you’re so hard right now, just from my voice.”



“I bet you wanna fuck me right now, hm?” He asked slowly, and Phil didn’t hear the tell tale signs that he was joking in his tone anymore. He sounded serious. “I bet you’d love to pin me to your bed and make me beg right about now…” shit. Something in Phil snapped.

“Daniel.” Phil growled. “God, I forgot what a brat you are. If I was there and you were talking like this I’d already have you against the wall, screaming.”

There was silence from the other side of the moment, just breathing.

“…Well, shit,” Dan muttered, his breath hitching. “Damn, Phil.” He paused. “…If y-you were here, what would you d-do..? For real.”

Now Phil was smirking, and he found himself reaching down to adjust his boxers, as suddenly they were a bit uncomfortable.

“I think I just answered that,” Phil breathed. “I’d have you on your back in seconds, begging for me. Begging for my cock.” Phil hummed, rubbing gently at his bulge through the cloth. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you, Daniel?”

“Hell yes,” Dan breathed back. “Fuck, I’d moan so loud for you.”

That went straight to Phil’s dick, and he tugged at the waistband of his boxers, pulling them over his hard on and sliding them down his hips. He shuddered, brushing his fingertips over his length. He heard a whimper through the phone.

“Are you touching yourself?” Phil muttered, wrapping a hand around his cock. “Touching yourself to the sound of my voice like a slut?”

He was too far now, letting out a groan as his thumb swiped over his slit.

“Y-Yes…” Dan muttered. “Fuck, Phil, keep talking…”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, being filled up by my cock… I bet you’d love to ride me, grinding down on me like such a good boy…”

Dan whined loudly, and Phil’s eyes widened. He sounded like an angel, why hadn’t they done this before? It felt wrong, jerking himself off to his best friends moans, but he honestly didn’t care.

“I bet you’re so pretty like that, baby, you sound like a bloody angel. God, I wanna fuck you so hard.” Phil was just babbling now, letting soft groans and whimpers slip from his lips, his breathing ragged.

“Jesus, P-Phil…” Dan gasped, his voice breaking and Jesus fuck he sounded so beautiful.

“I’m c-close…” Phil breathed, throwing his head back and biting down on his bottom lip to keep from letting out an embarrassing noise.

“Me too, fuck.”

Phil tried to imagine how Dan looked at this moment, his hair messy and his hips jerking up to meet his hand, his eyes glassy and fucked out. Jesus.

“God, moan for me Dan, fuckfuckfuck you’d look so gorgeous with my cum all over your pretty face…”

“Ah-!” Dan moaned loudly, turning into a whine and getting high pitched and broken at the end, and it sent Phil over the edge. He jerked one more time, groaning and coming all over his shirt.

They were quiet for a solid minute, but Phil could hear Dan’s ragged breathing, and holy shit, he probably looked so beautiful.

“That’s not weird, is it?” Dan asked finally, the laughter back to his voice. “Getting off to your friends voice?”

“Nah,” Phil answered, chuckling and running his fingers through his hair.


“I should probably… clean this up…” Dan muttered, and Phil could almost see him blushing. He grinned.

“Yeah, me too…” he paused. “Dan?”


“I miss you.” He breathed. Breathy laughter echoed from the phone.

“I miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”


Bruised and Battered Part 2

Sam, Dean x Reader (Friends, soon to be more)

1250 Words

Story Summary: Being friend with Sam and Dean Winchester had been the best part of your life. But then they were gone, and you had nothing to distract you from the physical and verbal abuse from your parents. Years pass, and your parents suddenly vanish. When Sam and Dean come help to find them, you aren’t sure what they will do when they discover your dark past.

A/N: Mentions of Abuse. Also, sorry this one is shorter than I wanted, but at least I got something out!! Now I’m going to fall asleep and hope I feel better!

Read Part 1

With your legs tucked underneath you, you continued to stare out the window of the Impala, watching as trees and buildings sped past you, nothing but a blur. Your mind a million miles away as you thought about what lay ahead. If your parents were still alive, and whether you cared if they were dead.

Truthfully, that part of you was numb. Your parents had treated you so horribly, that you weren’t sure if you wanted them back or not. Sure, they were your parents, and you should love them no matter what. But this might be the break you were looking for. Feeling horrible for thinking that way, you quickly brushed away a spare tear, amazed that even after everything you had gone through you could still cry.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Betty and Jughead fall asleep in the blue & gold office while working their butts off trying to finish some articles. Betty's mom freaks out when she doesn't come home and thinks that Betty and Jughead were doing more than just napping together. She then locks Betty in her room and Jughead sneaks her out and they go on the adventure of your choice.

Sure thing! I hope you like it.

The Adventure

“Juggie, I’ve just got to finish this paragraph.” Betty promised.

Jughead yawned again and nodded.
“You can head home, Jug, I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Jughead shook his head this time and looked squarely at Betty. “No way, I’m going to walk you home.” Jughead smirked. “That’s what people like us do.”

“Okay, I’m almost done.” Betty smiled, clicking away on the computer keys.

Jughead yawned again and strolled over to the tiny couch in the corner of the office. Why there was a tiny couch in this room - or the lounge downstairs - he didn’t know. But at this moment, it was deeply appreciated.

Jughead propped his hands behind his head and stretched his legs out before him, resting them on a table.

He closed his eyes for just a second, listening to Betty’s beating of keys across the room.

He was comfortable but too warm, he decided. He shrugged out of his coat, then his flannel, leaving him in a tshirt and jeans.

He rested his head back against the top of the couch as Betty shuffled over to him.

“Ready, Jug?”

“Betty,” He started, cracking one eye open to look at her. “You wouldn’t believe how comfortable this old couch is.”

Betty smiled. “Oh yeah?”

Jughead reached out for her hand. “Sit with me.”

Betty did, cozying up to Jughead’s side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closely.

Jughead let out a deep breath, content.

Betty nuzzeled her head into Jughead’s chest and closed her eyes. He was right - this was comfortable.

Betty’s eyes opened as Jughead rearranged his hold on her - it was dark outside. Really, really dark. It was dark in here. Betty jumped up, looking for her phone. Shit, where was it? She was dead.

“Jughead, wake up! We fell asleep!” The panic was rising in her.

Betty could feel her usually taut ponytail slumping to one side of her head, pieces of hair falling over her face.

Jughead’s shirt was half way up his stomach, looking worse for wear. He was still asleep, a half smile crossing his face.

“Jughead!” Betty whispered again, shaking his shoulder.

His eyes cracked open this time, and the smile widened on his face. “‘Morning, Gorgeous.”

Betty couldn’t help but smile back. “It’s not morning,  Juggie, we fell asleep at school. My  mom is going to kill me when-”

They heard clicking down the school hall.

“Shit,” Betty whispered, throwing Jughead’s flannel at him. Where was her phone!?

The clicking of the shoes got louder and as Betty reached her desk - finally, there was her phone - The Blue and Gold office door flew open, Alice Cooper standing in the doorway.

“Elizabeth, do you have any idea what time it is?!” Alice roared into the room, looking prestine as always.

“No,” Betty said lamely.
“It’s after midnight. What were you-?” Alice zeroed in on Betty’s unruly hair, then scanned the room.

Jughead was fighting to get his flannel on.

“What the hell were the two of you doing in here?”

Betty looked over to Jughead trying to get his clothes on, the hat that had slumped to the back of his head. His tshirt was still slightly wrinkled and sat just above his bellybutton. She smoothed her hair down, knowing she looked guilty doing it.

“Nothing,” Betty said, head high. She knew what happened - and what didn’t. “We were just working on the paper, Mom.”

“I won’t have you acting like Polly did, Elizabeth.”

“We were working on the paper.” Betty said again.

Alice grabbed for Betty’s arm, steering her towards the door.

Jughead shrugged on his coat, following behind the Cooper women. He knew better than to say anything, but he still wanted to keep an eye on them.

It was a silent car ride back to the Coopers - Jughead squeezed Betty’s hand as she got in the car, but kept walking. He wasn’t crazy enough to ask Alice for a ride.

Alice had yelled at Betty for five minutes when they got home - she already had one pregnant daughter, she didn’t need to - despite Betty’s protests that she had the wrong idea of what had happened at school.

Alice had ended up locking Betty in her room, saying she would unlock the door in the morning.

“What if I have to pee?!” Betty called, rolling her eyes. Her mother was so dramatic.

Betty changed out of what she had worn to school and into leggings and a large sweater.

She sat down at the edge of her bed, head in her hands. If only Alice hadn’t walked in when she had - Betty barely had time to reflect on how much she had enjoyed her time with Jughead. The best sleep of her life, packed into just a few hours.

She smiled, and suddenly there was a quiet tap on her window.

Betty looked over at her window, a bigger smile spreading across her face as she saw Jughead. She slid open the window.

“You on house arrest?” Jughead smiled.

“She locked me in here!” Betty hissed.

“I guess she forgot you have two windows.”

Betty smiled and rolled her eyes.

“You up for an adventure?”

“What kind of adventure?”

“Do you trust me?” Jughead murmured.

“Of course I do.” Betty smiled. “Hold on.” She went to her bed, fluffing up her blankets and arranging the pillow just so, just in case. She knew her mother wouldn’t check on her - she would never expect her to climb out the window.

Betty walked back to the window, looking out to see Jughead already at the bottom, holding the ladder for her.

She quickly made her way to the bottom, taking Jughead’s hand as she stepped on the grass. “Where to?”

“I’ll show you.” Jughead smiled at Betty in the dark. They strolled down the sidewalks, passed Archie’s house, around a corner, until they came to a stop.

Betty recognized this house - it was Jughead’s old house.

“What are we doing here?” Betty whispered.

Jughead kept walking into the back yard, pulling Betty along with him. They stopped in front of an old treehouse.

“The treehouse!” Betty said excitedly. “I forgot about this thing!” Betty started climbing up the old wooden boards.

She ducked her head inside, Jughead following her quickly.

It looked exactly how she remembered it. There were drawings marked into the wood with crayon, a trunk full of comic books, a notebook full of doodles and ‘secret code’. There was a skipping rope, as well as a pack of gum and a tennis ball in the corner.

“The people that bought your house never checked in here?” Betty murmured as she sat in front of the comic book trunk.

“They’re elderly, they didn’t have any children. I heard that they were thinking of knocking it down, but it hasn’t happened yet.”  

Betty passed Jughead a comic book.

“I tried sleeping in here, once, after my dad started drinking again. It was pretty risky though - if anyone saw me, they’d call the cops and I’d be right back with him. Plus, it’s pretty uncomfortable.”

Betty looked at Jughead sadly. She had just recently learned about Jughead’s situation. She reached out and squeezed his hand.

They spent the next hour flipping through comic books, trying to decyfer the code in their notebook.

Jughead intertwined his fingers with Betty’s. “Ready for the next stop?” Jughead asked.

“There’s more?” Betty said excitedly.

The climbed out of the treehouse carefully, tiptoeing through the back yard, away from the house.

The night wasn’t too cold - there were stars shining above them, noises coming from different parts of the city around them.

They walked quickly, both of them excited. They gripped each other’s hands.

Eventually, they found the closed Drive-In.

Betty turned her head to look at Jughead, but he just smiled.

She followed him to the projection office.

He slipped a key out of his pocket, unlocking the door.

“They haven’t torn it down yet, obviously, and I just wanted you to see inside. I love it here.”

Betty followed him inside, looking around as she did so. “Jug, there’s so much stuff in here. Are you sure you don’t want any of it?”

She looked around, seperating her hand from his. She looked at the shelves, fingering the different rolls of film.

She looked at the different titles, noticing some of Jughead’s favorites.

Jughead was sitting on the small bed that fit into the room, playing with the pillow.

“Can you put one on?” Betty murmured.

“I can’t project it outside, in case someone sees. But I can play one for just us.” Jughead smiled, walking to the machine.

Jughead looked through the different titles, picking one and putting it on. The projector was loud.

“What’s this?” Betty asked, nodding her head to the movie.

“The Killing from 1956. It’s a Stanley Kubrick. It’s one of my favorite lesser-knowns.” Jughead murmured as the movie started.

Betty sat next to Jughead on the small bed, realizing why the Drive-In had meant so much to him. Not only did he love his job, it was his home.

Betty traced little patterns over Jughead’s skin absent-mindedly, both of them enjoying the movie.

Jughead leaned back, and Betty leaned back with him. She rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the movie but enjoying his company more.

More than halfway through the movie, Jughead turned his head the best he could, trying to see Betty’s beautiful face.

“Betty?” He murmured.

She leaned forward, away from his chest, to look at him. “What?”

He grazed his lips slowly against hers before locking her lips between his. He had wanted to do that since they woke up at school.

They stayed like that, gently kissing in the dark, the light from the movie alighting their faces.

The movie reached the end of the roll, bringing Jughead back to reality.

“Okay,” He said, taking a deep breath. “One more surprise.”

Betty smiled and took his hand to get up off the makeshift bed.

“Jughead?” Betty said, stopping him before he had the chance to open the door. “Are you sure you don’t want any of these old movies?”

Jughead shook his head. How would be play them, anyway?

Betty nodded, grazing the shelf that held the film cannisters. It was dusty. She found the one she was looking for and slipped it in her sweater pocket.

“Ready?” Jughead smiled.

Betty nodded and took his hand, leaving the booth behind them.

She was surprised at how light the sky looked above them. Sure, they’d been out for hours. But Betty expected darkness - they left the house in darkness, after all.

They strolled through the grass, the dampness from the dew touching their ankles.

She knew better than to ask Jughead where they were going - he was a sucker for surprises. He wouldn’t ruin them.

They didn’t go far, just passed the Drive-In, there was a park that was hardly ever used.

They walked between the dense trees, spotting a play-structure for children, rows of swings and a teeter-totter.

Betty walked directly to the swings, sitting down in one. She expected Jughead to sit beside her, but he didn’t. He walked behind her, gently pushing on her back so that she would swing back and forth.

A smile spread across her face. She hadn’t been pushed on the swings since she was a toddler.

“Hey, what movie did you swipe from back there?” He laughed.

“A Rebel Without A Cause.” Betty admitted. “I feel like it’s our movie.” She blushed. “I wanted it, even if I don’t have anything to play it on. It’s ours.” She said.

Jughead was terrified - he hadn’t planned this night, it wasn’t elaborate. He had thought of it at the last minute, walking home by himself, thinking of the best sleep of his life that he had just awoken from.

Why not show all the places he loved most to the girl he loved most?

And then, he realized, that he had just come clean to himself. He loved Betty. He loved Betty?

He loved Betty and he was going to tell her.

He looked upwards towards the sky, then stopped pushing against her back. She swung gently a few times around him before coming to a stop.

“It’s almost time,” He said, a shy smile on his face. He walked around the front of her, extending a hand so she could jump down.

“Time for what?” She smiled.

They walked over to the grass, keeping each other’s hand in their grasp.

Jughead pulled her down onto the dew-soaked grass, then layed down. Betty did the same.

The sky changed from the dark, intense blue to a lighter blue, stars disappearing.

Eventually they saw whisps of clouds appear, dotting the sky. There were purples and pinks decorating the sky above them.

Jughead turned his head to look at Betty - she was smiling, in awe.

“I’ve never watched a sunrise before,” Betty murmured.

“Betty, I love you.” He rushed out. There. There was no taking it back, no pretending it didn’t happen.

She was the first person beside his father, sister or mom that he had said that too.

Betty rolled onto her elbows, propped up to look at him.

“You love me?” She whispered.

Jughead nodded slightly. “I love you.” He whispered back.

“I love you, Jughead.” She smiled. “This was the best night of my life.” She murmured, dipping her head lower to kiss him.

Jughead kissed her back, tears pricking his eyes. The girl he loved, loved him too. He blinked them away, breaking the kiss.

“You’re missing the sunrise.” He murmured.

“You’re better than the sunrise.” She smiled, kissing him once more.

They stayed like that until the sky was light. They stood up, clothing wet, hand in hand.

“We better get you home before your mom realizes. I don’t want her to castrate me.” Jughead said lightly.

Betty shook her head. “Me neither. I wouldn’t let her touch you, though. Nobody touches the person I love.” She smiled, bumping her hip against him.

“That’s my girl.” He laughed.

36. “Wow she’s way better than you, does that make you feel bad?” Shisui to Sasuke, discussing Sakura in a non-mass AU.  Requested by @rhosinthorn.

Sasuke was no stranger to hatred.  

It had been coursing through his veins for so long that there was not an inch of his body that had not been touched by its flames.  He welcomed the sensation of lead settling itself in his stomach and relished in the hollowness of his chest - it always preceded the powerful roar of the Uchiha Clan’s signature move, an expulsion of the fire in his blood that would demolish everything in its path.  Soon, then.  Soon, the object of his hatred would be destroyed.

“I swear vengeance,” Sasuke hissed.  Shisui and Itachi exchanged A Look over the top of his head.  They had just hit a new record, too.  Three whole hours had gone by without Sasuke swearing vengeance upon something, and Itachi, ever the optimist when it came to his brother, was hoping to hit four.  

“Now, now, Sasuke-chan, we’ve talked about swearing vengeance upon people,” Shisui paused and immediately tacked on, “And objects.  And animals.  And food.  And-”

“What Shisui is attempting to say is that this is not a healthy medium for your anger.  Please consider the breathing exercises we learned from the DVD we purchased last week.” Oh, the breathing exercises.  Itachi loved his brother dearly, he really did.  It was why he was willing to brave the masses of weaker men and women who threw themselves at him in an attempt to slow him down.  It was why he stood the test of time and walked through the most deadly of arenas, dodging close encounters with bacteria and other subtle poisons.  It was why he resisted the most potent of decadent temptations.  All for his sweet little brother.

Konoha’s weekend bazaar was honestly more dangerous than anything the Forest of Death could hope to come up with, but it was the only place to get discounted items and Itachi was a stickler for a good sale.

“Can you believe this!” Sasuke ranted, pointing up at the bulletin board outside the Academy doors.  “Look at these class rankings!”

Itachi and Shisui both leaned in (Itachi because he had forgotten his contacts again and refused to be seen outside with glasses on; the Laundry Incident was still a fresh wound in his mind) to read the paper pinned to it.  “Congratulations, Sasuke,” Itachi praised him.  “Second place is nothing to scoff at.  You beat Hyuuga Neji by a whole point.”

“Better watch out, I hear that kid is a fucking destiny nut.” Shisui snickered.  “Apparently he swears ven-fuck, we cannot let them meet.”

“Don’t you see anything wrong with this!” Sasuke exploded.  “Look at who got first!”

“Haruno Sakura,” Itachi read off.  “I do not know her or her kin.”

The eight year old made a gargling noise in the back of his throat that sounded a lot like the same sound the toilet made after Shisui flooded it and gestured towards the park.  “Her!”

Pink hair, green eyes, and a smile too gentle to belong to anyone considering their line of work.  Itachi was half ready to barge into the Academy himself and ask just who the fuck was running admissions and how they allowed a literal cinnamon roll, too small and pure for this world into the bloody shitfest that was the first step into the shinobi world.

Then, Itachi caught sight of the way she was using her chakra to manipulate a small doll to destroy small pebbles and realized she was probably very fit for duty.

“Wow, she’s way better than you, does that make you feel bad?” Shisui asked his youngest cousin.  “I mean seriously, Sasuke-chan, you can’t even levitate a leaf and Sakura-chan is already out here mastering the art of puppeteering.  We should invite her training sometime, ‘tachi-chan!”

Sasuke’s eyebrow twitched.

“I will have vengeance! Vengeance on her! Vengeance on you! Vengeance on your cow!”

anonymous asked:

I don't think its insulting #louisgetanewteam because they do nothing at all PR or mgnt Louis lucky we are still here fans and steve team got that song to over 200 million streams & no2 uk charts he deserves better is what we mean not anything else

You’re missing the point. I don’t care if it’s insulting to Louis’s team; I think they’re horrible and treat him horribly. But saying “Louis get a new team” is putting all the responsibility on him and that’s not fair. He is TRAPPED in this situation that is constructed to hurt and sabotage him. You think he doesn’t already know he needs a new team? His best friend liking all those tweets and comments about how awful JGG and Rusty are should tell you that, yeah, he knows, and has likely shared those frustrations with Calvin. 

But no one in the GP knows that. No one in the GP knows Louis’s situation. Anyone looking at that hashtag would see fans /berating/ their “fave” for having a bad team. How does that look good for him? Louis needs our support and I’m happy to give it to him, but this is not support; this is putting him in a position in which he /can’t/ comment or defend himself, can’t say for the benefit of the GP “hey i’m being sabotaged,” can’t say /anything/, and anything “he” could say would probably be aggressive and in support of JGG like people need to stop thinking we can fix everything by putting a spotlight on it. We can’t. People just.. need to know when and how to comment. And this isn’t it

Tyler Seguin #13

Requested by Anon:  Can you do one with Tyler seguin where you get really sick and he takes care of you? [Enjoy!:)]

Word count: 829

Originally posted by puckducky

Usually, when you hear the front door click, you run to the foyer to meet Tyler or to the kitchen where you try to look busy. Tonight, though, you pull the covers higher until half of your face is under them. The lights are turned off except for the one on the bathroom vanity, filtering out a little. You curled into your body even more and closed your eyes tight.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Could you do prompt 38 and 42 with Daryl... if that's okay?

Yeah, that’s fine! :)

#38-  “Okay, judging by the look on your face, you either want to kill me or have sex with me.”

#42- “You’re drunk, I’m drunk, lets make it happen.”



Smut credit- @jijsku

That was another one. Another of your team gone. It was a simple run, you didn’t see where it all started to go wrong, it was a perfectly simple plan! He was only seventeen… he was just a kid. His name was Robbie and he was a good kid. Stupid and naive, sure. But good nonetheless. Now it was time for you to go back to Alexandria to tell his mom and his sister that he got caught in a heard of walkers because he tried to be brave. You always hated that part. It didn’t happen very often, because you’d admit that you were a very good leader. But when it did, you always had to put your feelings aside and be totally deadpan about it. You couldn’t cry. You would never let yourself cry.

After leaving Robbie’s mother and sister to grieve, you headed home and opened one of the many beers that Abraham had given you a while back. You sat at your table and drank in silence. Your mind raced over the events of a few hours previous. How Robbie grabbed your hand and begged you to help him. How you knew you couldn’t, but you stayed anyway. You knew you should’ve just shot him and put him out of his misery, but you couldn’t do that, not to a kid.

When you’d made your way through another beer, you heard a knock at your front door. You let out an exasperated sigh and set down your beer as you headed over to see who it was at your doorstep. When you peeked through the draped on your door, you saw Daryl’s tall, muscular figure standing in the evening heat. You unlocked and opened the door and met his sympathetic gaze..

“Hey,” he said. “How you feelin’?”

“Oh, I’m great. Always feel fantastic whenever I lose someone.” You sighed sadly.

“Listen, it weren’t your fault.”

“Tell that to Robbie’s family, Daryl. See what they have to say. I’m sure they’d disagree.” You argued, thinking about the look on Robbie’s mother’s face when she found out.

“They probably would. But that don’t change anything. And if it makes you feel any better, I still think you’re one of the best people we got.” Daryl says softly, warming your heart a little. You notice that he glanced behind you and sees the beer bottles on your table and he suddenly had an idea.

“Look, I’ll be back soon, alright? I’ll stay with you for the night. I’m sleepin’ on your couch and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.” He smiled and walked away.

You were taken aback by Daryl being so forward. You’d never known him to be so confident with his words and gestures. He was always the stereotypical ‘strong, silent type’ that only spoke up when something was ridiculously important. You simply shrugged and wandered back to your beers.

Moments later, the door opened again and Daryl strolled into your kitchen with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other.

“If you’re gonna do this, you’re gonna do it right.” He told you as he set the bottles down in front of you.

“You’re getting me drunk?” You chuckled with a slight scoff.

“Pretty much.” He shrugs and sits down opposite you.

You gaze at him with uncertainty, confused as to why he’s suddenly so outgoing, but a little bit attracted by his new-found confidence.

Okay, judging by the look on your face, you either want to kill me or have sex with me,” he jokes, snapping you out of your inappropriate train of thought. “Is this a bad idea?” He asked.

“I mean, you haven’t met drunk me, so I’m just worried for you.” You laughed, only half joking, knowing full well that you have no filter between your brain and your mouth when you’re intoxicated.

“See, now I’m just excited.”

And with those words, you both took swigs from each bottle.

By the end of the night, you had claimed the bottle of tequila as your own, leaving Daryl with the bottle of whiskey, which he had no problem with. The two of you had inched closer to one another as the hours ticked by, and now there was no more space left to eliminate.

You were giggling like a schoolgirl at Daryl’s comment about Rick  being completely whipped by Michonne when you noticed something- Daryl was smiling.

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.” You slurred.

“Don’t get used to it.” He mumbled, drinking the last drop of Jack.

“Can’t really get used to anything these days.” You replied with a sad sigh.

“What do you miss? Y’know, from before.” Daryl asked.

You let out a brief laugh and threw your head back in amusement.

“Sex.” You answered honestly, immediately regretting it afterwards.

“Really? You haven’t gotten laid since-”

“Since what? The whole world went to shit? Pretty much.” You snickered.

After a few moments, you noticed him gazing at you as you took another shot.

“What? What’s that look for?” You giggled.

“I can uh… help you out, y’know.” Daryl proposed, surprising you into silence.

“I uh… wh-”

“What? You’re drunk, I’m drunk… lets make it happen.”

And with that, you hungrily crashed your lips into his, earning an animalistic growl from Daryl.

“This is a bad idea.” You groaned.

“The worst.” Daryl breathed, taking off your jacket.

“We shouldn’t do this.” You moaned as you bit at his bottom lip.

“Definitely not.” Daryl grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap.

“Sex isn’t the answer.” You slid his vest down his toned arms.

“Never is.” He sloppily unbuttoned your shirt.

“We’re about to make a big mistake.” You hurriedly unbuckled his belt.

“Damn straight.”

After unbuckling his belt you subconsciously licked your lips and Daryl smirked. He slipped your jeans off and ran his hands up your thighs, stopping just before your core. You looked him in the eyes and kissed him hungrily, the taste of alcohol mixing, whiskey and tequila, you and Daryl. It was pure passion, even if in a drunken state. You slipped your hand down his stomach and to his boxers, palming him through the fabric making him grunt. He wrapped your legs around his waist as he stood up and walked over to your lounge, and then pinned you onto the sofa and his hair fell around his face, making you giggle.

“You look like a girl!” You giggled but gasped as you felt pressure on your clit.

“I’m not the girl here Darlin’.” He drawled and rubbed your clit harder before stopping and taking his fingers back up. You weren’t sure if you would remember this in the morning but neither of you cared at the moment. You just wanted to fuck each others brains out. Daryl stood up and took his boxers off, slipping a condom on his rock hard member. You felt yourself getting wetter by just seeing his member, ready to be embraced by you. You stripped your panties and he came to you, not even warning you, just slamming inside you, making you scream out loud. He let you adjust and started grinding his hips carefully, making him grunt and you moan in pleasure. The sounds filling the house, the air growing hot and the alcohol pumping through your veins giving adrenaline.

“Faster… Daryl, oh my God!” You yelled and bucked your hips up to meet his and he did what you said and went maybe a little too fast. He started ramming into you and put a thumb on your clit, feeling your walls tighten around him.

“Jesus Christ, how has nobody fucked you this whole time? You’re so damn tight!” He hissed through gritted teeth and rammed one more time, making both of you explode, orgasming the hardest you ever had, even before the apocalypse. Daryl laid down next to you and you both fell asleep soon due to both of you being ridiculously exhausted.

You woke up to the sun shining into your eyes, sending shooting pains into your head, causing you to wince in pain, and you were about to get up when you felt a figure pressing against your back. Your head was throbbing really badly and you felt nauseous all over. As you put two and two together, you reminisced about the previous night. You and Daryl… oh shit. Oh… God! Why did you let yourself get so drunk!?

shit, he’s never going to look at me the same again!’ You thought.

You turned over and gently nudged Daryl in an attempt to wake him up. He grumbled as he opened his eyes, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. It only took a few seconds before the pain washed over him and he too remembered the events of the night before.

“Ugh, I feel like shit,” Daryl complained, burying his head into your pillows. “Sorry about last night.”

“Why? I had fun.” You smiled sheepishly, causing Daryl to look up at you.

“You did?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Me too.” Daryl smirked a little and took hold of your hand.

“You’re not in any kind of rush to leave, are you?” You asked, your voice dripping with hope.

Daryl pressed a sudden kiss to your lips that answered your question for him. You were slightly taken aback at first, but it didn’t take you long to welcome it.

“I’ll take that as a no.” You giggled and the two of you spent the rest of the day in bed, holding each other and desperately attempting to get rid of the pain of your hangovers.

I really like you

I really like you…..

———————————————————————————————please reblog if you like it! It helps me be able to receive requests!!!——————————-

He honestly thinks he has never been so nervous for a movie night before. This is no ordinary night though, It was you. He was scared to make a move, worried he would lose you, but after one too many flutes of dom perignon, Jeff spilled the beans and revealed your secret feelings. Honestly, it wasn’t his place to tell since Gleene was the one that told him, but everyone thought it was obvious, everyone except for Harry that is. You were friends of friends who became close after a late-night dinner at Mel’s after he finished a recording session and your girls ended the night at the Nice Guy. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, more like soul connection and that was exactly how he felt that night. You were opposite yet scarily similar. He drove you home “No friend of mine is gon’ drive this late with a stranger” was the line he gave you but if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want the night to end so he needed to buy some more time.  

Now he was staring into a drawer of his softest, most comfy clothes he owns trying to choose the best pair of non-holey sweats to wear. He was staying the night at yours which was a ritual you did on the weekends when, by a miracle, both of your schedules lined up. He could understand why he was so nervous, it was just you, his friend, the one person who knew things his mom didn’t. It had been a few days since Jeffs drunken revelation and while he was busy, he couldn’t stop thinking of you. Harry picked up his favorite pair of gray sweats and the dad sweater that you absolutely loved. He decided that tonight was as good as ever to tell you how he really felt, he was nervous as hell though. You sashayed around your kitchen, opening a bottle of wine now that your pizza had arrived. 

 “Harry, are you alright? You usually talk me ear off.“ You questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

 “Why would you ask love? Im fine. No worries. Just thinking.”His words jumbled with a quiet chuckle. You knew him better and he knew that. The situation weighed on him like a ton of breaks. Your dynamic was going to completely change. What if you didnt want him anymore? What if you got in a relationship and realized it wasnt what you thought it was going to be like? Worse off, what if he ruined ykur friendship entirely? He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t lose you. 

 You tired to talk to him throughout the evening. You attempted to coax more than a nod or a mumble but nothing was working. You asked about his day and have you nothing more than a meek smile and an it was fine. You asked what take out you should order and got a mumbled “anything love, your decision”. You even brought out his favorite wine that he had been whining about because you never had it at your place. You barely got a reply and you were tired of it. By the climax of the movie, you had enough.

 "Honestly, Harry! Do you think i don’t know you better. Do you want to talk about it?” You were more worried than anything but you were still upset at the lack of enthusiasm. 

 “I just….. what I’m trying to say is… love, i don’t know.” His cheeks were flushed, words fleeting in the moment.

 “Harry, please im starting to worry. Is someone ill? Are you ok?“

“What? No! No, no, no! Why would you think that? Everything’s fine, petal. I just have something to tell you and I’m afraid it’ll change us.” Harry was nervous, his palms were sweaty, heart beating out his chest, but he has never been so sure. 

You grabbed his hand in yours and began to play with the little curls that were starting to form on his neck. “Sweetheart, I love you and nothing is gonna change that. Just tell me what’s on your mind? I cant make you feel better if we don’t talk”

Harry looked away from you eyes for a brief moment, puffing out his cheeks. When he looked back at you, his green eyes seemed lighter and playful. 

“I really like you…. more than just friends hmm, love. You know how much of a brute I can be. It’s taken me a min to realize but I want yeh, all of yeh for myself. Jeff may have told me the other night how yeh felt but i swear I decided to do this on my own! I want to love you, marry you, see you with a round belly full of love. If you let me, I want to date you and be your boyfriend. What do you say?”

“I really like you too”

He yanked you forward in an awkward, tangled hug. You fell soft against the warmness of his body and the scent of his block dad  sweater. You wanted to kiss him so you caressed his cheek with your hands and stretched up to meet his lips. Of course, you had pecked his lips before, Harry was extremely affectionate. This, however, was different It was safe and gentle and passionate but oh so perfect. Harry ended it with a giggle and a peck on your nose. The movie forgotten in the background. 

“Thank you, petal. I really like you”

Opposites. (Daryl Dixon)

Originally posted by prettymuchdixonalready

After being grazed by Andrea’s bad shot, Daryl was fixed up and sent into his tent to rest. When everyone had gone to finish their chores, and after I finished mine, I brought Daryl a plate of dinner. He was lying with his back to the tent entrance, his back exposed and I could see the tattoo on his skin. When he heard the fly unzip he glanced over his shoulder, aiming his crossbow at me and I motioned to the plate, putting a hand up in surrender.

“Easy now. I wasn’t the one who shot you.” Daryl put down his weapon and glanced at the plate. “Does it still hurt?” I asked as I placed his food down and sat next to him.

“Nah,” he murmured. His body shifted so he was facing me now and sitting up. “Andrea’s a real bad shot, huh?”

I couldn’t suppress the smile forming on my face. “She’ll get better with practice. You’d just better be thankful it wasn’t anyone else taking that shot.”

“Ain’t nothing worth living for anymore.” Daryl muttered as he reached for his plate. My chest stung a little at his words. “How is she?”

“Still shaken up. Who wouldn’t be after almost taking you out? What were you doing out there anyway?” I asked curiously, watching him eat with satisfaction considering I rarely saw him eat anymore ever since Sophia went missing.

Daryl chewed slowly, shrugging nonchalantly. “Got lost.” I chuckled, rolling my eyes.

“A skilled tracker like yourself?” I teased.

This time he rolled his eyes while he cleaned his plate and after he set it back down his eyes met mine. He was smirking slightly and I raised an eyebrow questioningly. “When you thought I got shot, were you worried?”

My cheeks warmed up slightly and I pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Um,” I picked up his plate and stood up, messing with my t-shirt nervously. “Do you want anything else?”

“An answer.” Daryl persisted.

“Of course I was worried. I thought you had died. You’re a valuable member of this group. Daryl.” I said, not completely bluffing. Daryl scoffed and shook his head.

“You know that ain’t the type of answer I want.”

“Get some rest, Daryl. Let me, or anyone else, know if you need anything.” I added quickly. Daryl smirked again and nodded before I headed out. My face still felt hot as I was washing off his plate in the sink inside the Greene’s kitchen.

Daryl and I didn’t exactly get along at the beginning of everything. He was impulsive and angry while I thought things through and kept a cool head. We were polar opposites and we butted heads a lot. Lately, the banter between us had somehow become more playful, flirty even, and it concerned me. It’s not that I didn’t think Daryl wasn’t attractive, I was just scared of how things would end or what would happen to the group if we were to get involved and then break up. Now more than ever our group needed stability. I couldn’t imagine getting caught up in a relationship only for one of us to die tomorrow.

I won’t deny it hurt me a little when Daryl said there wasn’t anything worth living for anymore. I had hoped he would try to live for me, I know I would for him. What was I saying? God, the guy gets shot and all these hidden feelings decide to rise up inside me like some schoolgirl crush.

Daryl continued to seek me out after our conversation. He’d ask me to go on runs with him or join him on a search for Sophia. We talked a lot, mainly about our pasts, or at least mine. It was something normal to talk about now a days. What had been and what we had been.

“A teacher?” Daryl questioned, studying the ground. “With little kids?”

I smiled. “Yes, Daryl, with children. Eight year olds, more specifically.”

“Did you always want to be a teacher?” he asked.

“Yeah, it felt like the only thing I was good at, and I liked it.” Daryl nodded and I could tell he was thinking of more questions to ask, so I stopped him. “What about you? You haven’t told me much about your life. I know about Merle. What about Daryl?”

Daryl shrugged. “Ain’t much to know. I was just some redneck. Still am.”

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t also have a life. Like the rest of us. What did you do before this?” Daryl stayed quiet, so I pressed on. “Did you have a girlfriend?” Daryl scoffed and looked at me incredulously over his shoulder. “What? I had a boyfriend. He was a bartender.”

“What was he like?” Daryl asked. I rolled my eyes deciding he wasn’t going to answer any personal questions. No matter how hard I tried.

“Quiet. He was kind, smart, he liked little kids but he kept that hidden with the rest of his soft side. He was tall and tough, but he was gentle and he had a lot of love to give out. I felt safe with him.” I thought more about my boyfriend and felt my heart ache with longing. I missed him. Daryl gave me a sympathetic look and I shrugged. “He died heroically. Like I always thought he would. He was protecting Jacqui and I, actually.”

“I’m sorry.” Daryl said after a moment.

“You remind me of him sometimes. You’re both reserved, but you care. Even if you don’t let on as much as others.” Daryl and I stared at each other and then he smiled.

“I don’t mind being like him. He sounds like a nice guy.”

“Yeah?” I grinned.

“Yeah,” Daryl smirked a little before continuing on the track he had found. “We got the same taste in women.” My cheeks burned brightly and I smiled to myself as I followed after him. Moments like these with Daryl were more than enough until we were ready for something more serious. Something greater than ourselves.

Requested: Daryl and Reader are opposites and have a love-hate relationship in which they dislike each other at the beginning of the outbreak but soon become closer after he is thought to be shot by Andrea. Man, this was a throwback. I miss the old seasons when all my babies were alive and well. Hope you like it! Thanks for requesting! xx

Mine Would be You

Written for @jpadjackles‘s Double Birthday Challenge. My song was “Mine Would be You” by Blake Shelton. 

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1600-ish

Warnings: Angsty, language, drinking, Jensen singing (yeah, I consider that a warning)

A/N: Lyrics are in bold, I made up the last verse in bold italics. Italics are flashbacks. Thanks to my girls, @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms and @paintrider13-blog for their support of this story! Love you both, you are my sun to ward off the darkness! 

Keep reading

If I may elaborate more on thin privilege, my mom was overweight for a long time. She had five kids and a demanding job of course she was gonna be. Anyway she decided to get in shape but while doing so she injured her knee. When she went to the doctor they told her to loose weight. She lost I think around fifty pounds, nothing changed, it actually got worse. She went to a new doctor and they told her she had a torn meniscus, which had only been getting worse in time. Because the doctor had assumed it was because of her weight she had to have surgery, and spend money she didn’t have. It’s slowly getting better but she’s still in excruciating pain everyday. This isn’t unusual. I’ve talked to women all over the country who are overweight and have gone through similar experiences. It’s hard to loose baby weight, it’s hard to eat right and find the time to exercise. I have friends who hate going to the doctor because every time they go they hear “you need to loose weight.” Like yes, they’re trying. Instead of discussing how to loose weight we need to be discussing why people gain weight. In today’s fast paced world women aren’t given long enough maternity leaves. If they don’t work overtime in the office they might not get that promotion, so of course they don’t have the time to work out. And unhealthy food is cheaper, so of course poor people will gain weight faster. Thin privilege is also about wealth, about time, about going to a doctor and not having them cut down your self esteem. :) thanks!

I Feel Ready With You - Cole Smut

Request:  Losing virginity smut to Cole??? If that’s cool with you obviously!

Warnings: Mild language, smut

Notes: lmao, it’s just straight into it, so good luck 😉  and yes, the shirtless guy is Cole 😜


“Are you sure? Because I’m not going to do anything if you’re not okay with it”, Cole says, holding my hand. 

“I want to. We’ve been together for a while and I feel ready with you”, I reassure him. He smiles and kisses me passionately on the lips. He laid me down on the bed, hovering over me. Cole peppered me with kisses all over my neck and collar bones. Chills run up my spine at the touch of his fingers on my waist and thighs. My heart raced, as nerves kicked in. He lifted up my shirt and kissed all the way up to my bra, sliding an arm under me, skillfully unclasping my bra. He took my shirt off and bra off, dropping it on the floor, down the side of the bed. I grew self-conscience and Cole noticed, as he unfolded my arms, which were covering my boobs. 

“You’re so beautiful. There’s no need to hide it”, Cole whispered. I smile slightly and gently place my arms away from my body. Cole leaned down and kissed my right boob, squeezing the other in his hand. I gasped at the new pleasurable sensation, arching my back slowly. Cole then moved and kisses between the valley of my boobs, kissing down to the hem of my leggings.

“May I?”, he asks. I nod, being okay with him pulling my leggings down, knowing he’s obviously seen my legs before. He pulls them off and again, drops it on the floor. Cole kissed my inner-thigh, causing me to moan quietly.  He smiles slightly against my thigh. 
 He looks at me again and I nod, knowing he was going to ask if it was okay to pull my panties down. He nods then hooks fingers under the hem, and pulls them down slowly, then spread my legs a little wider. My heart beats faster and I bit my lip in anticipation and nervousness. I placed my hands on my stomach, playing with my shaking fingers. Cole noticed my breathing fasten and my hands, and he grabs my them, intertwining his fingers through mine.   

Cole licks a stripe of my clit. 

“Cole”, I gasp, closing my eyes. He kitten-licks slowly, before sucking. I moan loudly, slightly embarrassed  about the sound, as I bit my lip, trying to hide them

“No need to hide them, baby. They’re just as beautiful as you are”, Cole says against my clit, sending vibrations against them. The sound of his voice plus the vibrations of it against my clit almost made me come undone right then and there. I couldn’t help but let out a moan. Cole lets go of one of my hands and slides in a finger and pumped it. It felt a little weird but, the finger itself was fine was it was just slightly bigger than a tampon; so it didn’t hurt. Cole noticed that I got used to the feeling and slid another finger in. 

“Fuck, Cole, Stop”, I whimper in pain. He immediately pulls his fingers out and hushes me.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. You’re completely safe, okay? We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to”, Cole reassures me. 

Originally posted by a-khaleen

“N-no it’s okay. I want this”

“Are you sure?”, he asks. I nod and tell him to continue. He nods and gives a small smile. He pumps in a finger, getting me used to the feeling again. I moaned and prepared myself for the second finger. Shortly after, he pumped in another finger. I winced and bit my lip. Cole kissed my thigh as he pumped his fingers, then kissed my clit and went back to sucking it. I moaned loudly, finally used to the feeling of his two fingers pumping in me. My free hand went to his hair, tangling it in my hair, pulling it gently. Cole grunted at that, again, sending vibrations onto my clit.

“Shit, Cole.. Fuck”, I moan loudly, pulling his hair a little harder - but not too hard. “I-I’m close”, I whimper. 

“I know, baby. I know”, he says against my clit. 

“Shit, shit, shit. Fuck, Cole. Oh!”, I moan out, realising all over his fingers. He continued to ride out my high. Cole pulled his fingers out and hovered over me again, kissing me passionately. 

“Was that okay?”, he asks. 

“It was perfect”, I smile at him.

“Do you want to continue, or leave it here?”

“Can we… Continue?”, I asked, biting my lip as I waited for his answer. Cole smiled and nodded, then kissed my forehead. Cole straddles me, taking off his shirt. 

“Holy shit”, I whispered as I stared at his slightly toned abs. 

He laughs and unties the string on his sweatpants, getting off me to pull them off, along with his boxers. Cole hovered over me again and kissed me. We spent a minute or so, just kissing and enjoying the moment, before he pulled away, asking for reassurance again, then pulled out a condom from the bedside table draw. I gulped when I saw the sizing label. Shit. Cole slid it on him, then teased my clit with his, now hard, cock. I gasped quietly. Cole grabbed my hands again, as he saw the scared expression in my eyes. 

He slowly slid in, squeezing my hands, while doing so. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, feeling a burning pain in my lower region. Once Cole was fully in, he stayed there for a while, allowing me to adjust to his -big- size. 

“You alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m okay. The pain is slowly easing away. You can m-move now”, I replied honestly. He nodded and slowly - yet very carefully - rocked his hips into me. I bit my lip and eased up a little. Cole whispered sweet nothings into my ear, helping me to feel better. He continued to rock his hip back and forth into me. 

“Cole, holy s-shit”, I moan out, finally feeling the pain turn into pleasure. “F-faster”. Cole obeys and thrusts a little bit faster, still keeping a steady pace. 

After a few moments, I felt the knot in my stomach spike up again. My moaning got louder, and so did Cole’s small grunts - indicating that he was close too. 

“Y/n”, he moaned into my neck, before biting it softly. I moan his name again and clench around him. 

“O-oh fuck. Do that again, baby”, Cole moans. I clench again, causing him to moan louder. 

“Oh, Cole! Right there!”, I moan loudly as I came for the second time that night. Cole came shortly after, then pulled out shortly after. He got up and disposed the condom, laying down next to me afterwards, pulling me into him. 

“You’re gonna be soar tomorrow, so I’ll call in your work and say that you’re unwell”, Cole whispered, kissing my forehead. I nodded and continued to pant slightly. “Oh, and I’ll also make you breakfast-in-bed”. 

nour386  asked:

20. Role swap, Stan is the one who gets the potential scholarship and Ford's the oen that gets kickd out?

20. Roleswap AU

Holy shit this is one hell of a prompt.  It is the kind of prompt that could easily spin into a full-length fic.  But here’s just a ficlet instead.

Send me characters and a number and I’ll write you a ficlet!

               “So, there’s a talent scout coming to your next match?” Ford asked, trying to muster up some false excitement for his twin.  Stan nodded.  “That’s…promising.”  He and Ford were sitting on their swings, watching the sunset.

               “Apparently some school wants a boxer, and they looked around and saw me, so they’re sending someone.”

               “If you do well, then you’ll go to college, I suppose,” Ford said quietly. Stan shrugged.

               “Haven’t decided about that part yet.  I mean, we’ve almost finished up the Stan O’War, and I’ve seen what years of boxing does to your face.  Can’t pick up girls with an ugly mug.  Don’t have enough charm for that.”

               “But college is-”

               “Sixer, you know full well that I don’t like school.  Why would I want to do even more of it?”

               “Heh.  I guess so,” Ford said, slightly assuaged.  

               “School’s your thing.  Not mine.” Ford nodded mutely.  His stomach turned over at his twin’s comment.

               Then why didn’t I get scouted?


               Stan helped Ford get out of the car and walk up to the pawn shop.  He opened the door; the bell jingled. Filbrick looked up from the antique gun he was polishing.  His lips turned down in a dissatisfied sneer.

               “You!” he snarled.  Stan swallowed.

               “Pops, I’m sorry I wasn’t-” he started.

               “Not you, your twin,” Filbrick said, setting the gun down, marching over to the twins, and grabbing Ford by the shirt.  Though his face was obscured by the bruises covering it, his terror shone through.  “What the hell do you think you were doing, keeping Stan from his match?”

               “Pops, it’s not his fault, it’s Crampelter’s,” Stan protested.

               “Was I talking to you?” his father growled.  Stan blanched and took an instinctive step backward.  


               “Do you realize what this boxing match could have been for us?” Filbrick asked Ford.  “We coulda been rich if Stan went on to be a professional athlete.  You cost this family millions!”

               “I- I didn’t mean to,” Ford said desperately.  “I was on my way there to support Stan and ran into Crampelter and-”

               “Made your twin miss his match because he was protecting your skinny, wimpy ass.”

               “Filbrick, what’s going on?” Ma Pines asked, walking into the pawn shop.

               “Getting rid of this freeloader,” Filbrick replied.  He dragged Ford over to the door and shoved him roughly outside. “Don’t come back until you’ve-” Stan barreled past his father to join Ford on the steps.  “Stanley, get your ass back in here.”

               “No.  If Ford goes, I go,” Stan said firmly.  Filbrick’s face turned an inhuman shade of red.  Stan struggled to not cower under his father’s disapproving gaze.  A moment passed, while the three men were frozen. Finally, Filbrick slammed the door closed.  Stan and Ford stared at the closed door.

               “Did- did he just-” Ford started.  He clamped his mouth shut when the door opened briefly.  Filbrick tossed a pair of duffel bags at his sons, then closed the door again.  “We’re- he-”

               “He kicked us out,” Stan said in a low voice.  “I didn’t think he’d actually- no, you know what?  I’m not surprised.  He’s been talking about putting me on the streets for years.”

               “What do we do?” Ford whispered.  “We’re homeless.”  Stan helped Ford up and brushed dirt off him.  

               “Nah, not completely.  We’ve got the Stanleymobile still, and the Stan O’War, too.”

               “Stanley.  A car and a boat do not constitute a home,” Ford said flatly.

               “It’s better than nothing,” Stan replied firmly.  He put an arm around Ford’s shoulders.  “And we’ve got each other, so that’s pretty good.  I’d hate to think of how fucked up you’d be if you were on your own out here.”

               “Or you were on your own,” Ford said.  Stan waved a hand.  

               “I think I’d be fine.”  Ford chuckled weakly, but then sobered.

               “Stan, I’m- I’m sorry I ruined your chance at going to a good school and getting a promising career.”

               “Didn’t you listen to me the other day?  I didn’t want to do it anyways.  All you did is save me the trouble of dealing with turning the boxing people down.”  He looked at his twin.  “High six?” he said, holding up a hand.  Ford smiled hesitantly.

               “High six.”

Not Your Average B*tch

Request: Can you write something about the reader being cheated on by Tony or any character of your choice

A/N: I took some inspiration from a few songs in Lemonade by our Queen and savior… naturally.

“Tighten up your stance, Natasha,” you barked out, “we aren’t dancing, we’re trying to kill each other.”

“Oh I’m trying to kill you,” she growled as she stood up after you knocked her down. She had a tendency to be showy, and inefficient in her fighting. Natasha never went for the easiest kill. Which was good she shouldn’t, she went for the most complicated one, which was a problem.

“Are you sure? Because I’ve just been watching you dance around like a ballerina,” you taunted as she stood. She wiped a bit of sweat from her brow and came at  you again. You threw her back to the matt easily and she stayed there.

“I’m done,” she groaned.

“Alright, you’re getting better though, Nat,” you offered walking over to your water bottle and towel. As you turned around you caught a glimpse of your husband, Tony, behind the transparent walls of the training room. He hadn’t been home last night and you had missed him. You waved to him and he waved back but as he did so you noticed who was at his side, Pepper Potts.

“She’s back in town again?” you spoke to Natasha. Natasha knew exactly who you were speaking of.

“Yeah, she’s supposed to be in town for the Stark Expo you know?”

“…I didn’t,” you watched Tony and Pepper as the passed by, your gaze hard and communicating that you were not happy. Tony noticed the gaze, of course, and purposefully looked away.

Keep reading

brotp tags masterlist

👽 hear ye hear ye!! look at me being productive for a change. alright, i see a lot of otp tags masterlists around and although they’re all awesome, brotps deserve some attention too. since i always find myself stuck on tags for them i decided to do one myself and so this was created!! so, under the cut you’ll find tag ideas for brotps (that fit otps too if you wanna) to which i will add as i think of more. i hope this helps you guys in some way and please reblog if you find useful!! 

Keep reading

The Nothing I Wanted to Tell You (pt. 2)

Jeremy got worse before he got better. 

The wheeze in his lungs developed into a dry cough, the kind that could force him to double over without warning, even in his sleep. His skin was hot and dry, tiny scars forming on his back from twisting around in his sleep with such a fever. And worse still, he was growing far more delusional than before.

Michael was justifiably worried. 

Keep reading