in this very low moment what she wants is his comfort

It’s quiet uptown, Alex dies, Eliza sings

ANGELICA:
There are moments that the words don’t reach
There’s a grief too powerful to name
You fight your tears back as well as you can
Once more burdened with the unimaginable!

The moments when your’re in so deep
It feels easier to just swim down
Eliza Hamilton moves uptown
Consumed again by the unimaginable!

ELIZA:
I spend hours in his study
I pour over his words once more
And it’s quiet uptown
A quiet we both felt once before

I take my sister to church with the children
A sign of the cross at the door
And I pray…
I don’t know how I’m going to endure…

ENSEMBLE
If you see her in the street, walking by herself,
Talking to herself, have pity!

ELIZA:
Alexander, you liked it uptown!
It’s quiet uptown!

ENSEMBLE:
She is going through the unimaginable!
She stays up at night, sitting where he used to write
Taking in his words and the city!

ELIZA:
Look around! Look around!
How lucky we are to be alive right now!!

ENSEMBLE:
Can you imagine?

ELIZA (Imagining Alexander beside her):
Look at where you are!
Look at where you started!
I really don’t know why I deserve you
But hear me out!
That would be enough!
If I could spare your life!
If I could trade your life for mine!
You’d be standing here right now
Your dreams alive
And that would be enough!

I don’t pretend to know
The struggles you were facing!
When you wrote that cursed pamphlet,
when you set your world ablaze.

But I’m not afraid!
I know who I married!
I’ll keep your legacy alive…
Could that be enough?

ENSEMBLE:
If you see her in his room
Reading to herself, sobbing to herself
Have pity!
She is going through the unimaginable!
See her sitting all alone, facing the unknown
Looking out at her husband’s city

ELIZA:
Why did you write like you were running out of time?

ENSEMBLE:
She is going through the unimaginable!

ANGELICA:
There are moments that the words don’t reach
There’s a sadness too terrible to name
We find resolve as best as we can
To push away the unimaginable!
We are standing at his headstone
I am standing by Eliza’s side
She reads his words:

HAMILTON (voice):
This letter, my very dear Eliza, will not be delivered to you, unless I shall first have terminated my earthly career; to begin, as I humbly hope from redeeming grace and divine mercy, a happy immortality.

ELIZA/HAMILTON:
I need not tell you of the pangs I feel, from the idea of quitting you and exposing you to the anguish which I know you would feel.
Fly to the bosom of your God and be comforted. With my last idea; I shall cherish the sweet hope of meeting you in a better world.

ELIZA:
Adieu best of wives and best of Women.
Ever yours

HAMILTON:
Alexander.

ELIZA: It’s quiet uptown!

ENSEMBLE:
His legacy…Can you imagine?
His legacy… Can you imagine?
If you see her in the street, walking by herself, talking to herself have pity…
She is going through the unimaginable!


MIght wanna grab some tissues, just like Lin, I made myself cry too

Here’s a link to the original song

I ALSO WRITE IMAGINES, SO HMU FOR SOME REQUESTS

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK IN THE TAGS OR REBLOG 

(low key wants @linmanuel to see this, but is scared he’ll hate it)

The Holy Grail of Sam Wilson Fanfic Recs

A list of recommended Sam-positive fanfics and authors by @lunaaltare and @unclesteeb. For more information on how this list was created, click here. 

Just a special reminder to check out @samwilsonbirthdaybang! Let’s keep creating awesome works!

Thank you to everyone who contributed to this list in any way!! HAPPY READING!

Holy Grail of Sam FanFic Recs And Authors:

Dreadnought by lunaaltare [Sam/Steve/Bucky, 60k, Explicit]

It’s 2015. So when a Nazi organization bags and kidnaps a bisexual black man to be their next asset, he guesses they’re trying their hand at this whole progressive thing, too. 

Make Me Your Home by Unclesteeb [Sam/Steve, 3k, Teen]

Sometimes, things need more than dusting and cleaning. Sometimes, things just require a lot of hard work.

When There’s Rain Showers by AmarieMelody [Sam/Bucky, 12k, Explicit]

In which Sam and Bucky are married and have a certain code language.

Humor, fluff, more humor, and gratuitous smut at the end.

Keep reading

Insecure (Peter Parker x Reader)


Authors note: this was requested by the lovley @signethatsmelol, also I hate myself bc I turned my precious babies against each other for the sake of fiction

Warning(s): some swearing, violence, angst BUT DW BC FLUFF AT THE END

Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Maybe it was the unusual silence of the school halls after class or the fact that Peter hadn’t come to find you but something was definitely up.

You frowned as you made your way to your locker, your boyfriend of a year nowhere to be seen.  Opening it up, you loaded in your calculus textbook and a few other things before heading your academic decathlon club. You often found yourself looking forward to your team meets as you’d get to spend more time with your boyfriend, Peter and best friend, Flash.

You’d actually met Peter through Flash, when you’d first joined Midtown high. Flash had been your ‘tour’ guide as such, and he was extremely sweet towards you, he’d made you feel comfortable with the move to a new high school and even invited you to the team’s first meet of the year, although he was very flirtatious and you weren’t into that. Peter had joined the meet a little later than it had started because of his Stark internship and it was pretty much love at first sight from then on.

You’d grown to love his little stammer every time he talked to you, and that blush that spread from his cheeks to his neck every time you held his hand in public. You could even say you loved Peter Parker . That’s why you were so worried when he hadn’t come to meet you, the pair of you were inseparable so you knew something was wrong.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as your friend Michelle came running towards you, panic etched across her features. “Michelle?” You asked, turning from your locker to face her, concern stitched into your voice. She was hunched over, hands gripping  her knees as she struggled to catch her breath.

“I-it’s Peter” she began, drawing herself upwards. “He’s gotten into another fight”

Your eyes widened as she spoken, you slammed your locker shut as the curly haired girl lead you towards the fight. Within a matter of minutes, you found yourself behind a large gathering of people, formed into a circle. People were cheering and filming the ordeal. Hurriedly, you pushed your way through the bands of people, trying to get a better look at the scene.

“Excuse me, sorry. Pardon me”

What you saw after weaving your way through the crowds made your heart drop. Your friend, Flash and your boyfriend Peter.

They were currently standing opposite each other, faces swollen and bruised. Flash had clearly gotten the brute end of it, and looked like he was on his last legs. Peter on the other hand looked significantly less injured and you knew in that moment he had been the one to start the fight. You knew Flash had picked on Peter, that’s what made it hard to maintain your friendship with him but you never thought Peter would lash out on him like this.

“Say that again, I dare you” you heard Peter spit, bouncing his fist up and down menacingly. Through the pain, you could see Flash draw his lips into a cruel smirk.

“She doesn’t want you, she never has. She’s only with you to get back at me”

That was all it took for Peter to launch himself at Flash, you covered your eyes and bit your now quivering lip, as you heard the pair’s grunts of pain. You knew know that this wasn’t some stupid spat between boys.

This was about you.

Opening your eyes, you rushed out into the circle, the cheers from the crowd only sky rocketing. At this point, both boys were at either side of the circle, you rushed between them in an attempt to stop the violence. “Stop it!” You yelled breathlessly, looking between them. “Just stop it! You’re hurting each other!”

Both boys fixed their posture before looking at you. You stared Peter down, meeting his gaze with a confused look, you could see the guilt swirling in his eyes. Your attention was stolen, when Flash begun to speak up. “Get outta the way (Y/N), I gotta let this punk have it

Don’t talk to her like that” Peter seethed back. You shook your head, begging yourself not to cry as the two boys you cared about glared and growled at each other. You could see that Peter was tired and could tell that he was feeling guilty.

“Leave it Flash” you called out as he tried to advance. You turned to your boyfriend and grabbed him then by the wrist trying to get him out of there. You pulled him into a guest toilet and locked the door behind you. You sat him down on the lid of the toilet,  grabbing some tissue and running it under some cold water before pressing the compress to his bruised knuckles.

“What the fuck was that Peter?” You said, as you worked in silence. Peter could only watch as you moved about, making more compresses for his cuts before they bruised.

“I’m sorry” the brunette boy whispered, not meeting your eyes as you inspected his face. You paused, looking into his chocolatey orbs, anger swirling in them.

You’re sorry?!” You yelled, your calm facade breaking down. This wasn’t the first time Peter had gotten into a fight over you, in fact, they’d been happening a lot more recently. You’ve never mentioned it to him before, at first you thought he was being over protective, but now you could tell it was much more serious. “Sorry doesn’t cut it Peter! Do you know how many times I’ve had to pull you out of these situations? Do you know how many times I’ve had to save your ass from being beaten into the ground? Do you know how much that scares me? I don’t know what’s going on with you Peter but you need to sort this out.”

Your boyfriend flinched at every word you spoke, as if he was being

sprayed by acid. He knew what you were saying was true, but he couldn’t help it.

“Peter, I love you!” You cried out, as he gazed at you intently. “But you can’t keep fighting people over me! Flash is one of my best friends, and to see you both almost kill each other out there breaks my heart! I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but if it keeps happening, I don’t know if I can stay”

This time, Peter’s head snapped up, looking you directly in the eyes. “W-what are you - are you saying?” he whispered, voice low and uneven. He was standing now, and you could see his body shaking.

“I’m saying that maybe…” you sighed, backing away from Peter. “We should…take a break?”

“No!“Peter practically screamed, his voice cracking as he did so.

In the dim light of the bathroom, you could see his eyes glaze over as his body begun to shake. “P-please”

Peter…

“I meant it when I said I was sorry” he tried, his voice betraying him. “I don’t know what came over me, F-flash was just saying these awful things about you, a-about us and I began to doubt myself”

You neared your sobbing boyfriend, immediately feeling guilting for suggesting that you end things. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his head down to rest on your shoulder as he cried. “T-they say I don’t deserve you, all the guys. T-they say you’re too good for me… and it’s true”.

You stroked his hair softly as he let out his emotions. You never knew that he’d felt this way, that this could have ever been the reason for his outbreak. That Peter Parker was insecure.

Baby no” you whispered but he didn’t stop there.

“You’re the kindest and sweetest soul and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you. You’ve been with me through everything and I-I’m just… Peter” he hiccuped, pulling away from you with bleary eyes. “P-please don’t leave me, you’re everything I have”

“Peter…” you sighed, holding him close until he’d calmed down. “I-I’ll never leave you, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry”. You clung to him, trying to tell him that you were there and that you weren’t ever going to let go, you cursed yourself for being such a terrible girlfriend. When you both pulled away, you looked up at Peter, feeling his love for you radiate off of his body. You stood on your tip toes and slowly pressed your lips to his, the taste of his cherry lip balm invading your tongue. His warm and familiar hands snaked their way around your waste, pulling you closer to him. You gripped the collar of his plaid shirt from under his jumper and tugged him towards you, wanting to be as close to him  as possible, wanting him to feel the love you had for him. All of Peter’s insecurities melted away in that moment, he knew that you would never leave him, he knew that you loved him and that none of the other guys meant anything to you, not even Flash.

When you’d both come up for air, a small smile graced your lips. Peter returned your smile, going to bury his head in the crook of your neck again. “I’m so in love with you” he whispered against the  skin of your neck.

“I love you too Pete”

You both stood in silence, holding each other, the only sounds being made were your giggles as Peter pressed kisses to your neck. “I really am sorry about Flash though, I know how much he means to you” Peter spoke, after a few moments.

You rolled your eyes, before ruffling Peter’s hair. “He was an asshole anyways, you’re all that I care about”

You both laughed before you pressed a quick kiss to Peter’s lips, making him blush. “Now we should probably get out of here before people think we’re up to something” you winked at him playfully , as he shook his head at your antics.

Peter only let out a laugh as you pulled away to unlock  the door. You  grinned back at him, admiring his smile, and the way it reached his eyes. You really loved Peter and god help anyone that tried to make your baby insecure again.

The Arrangement (pt 9)

“Is the child even mine, Y/N?”

You stare at him wide-eyed. Did he really just ask that? You felt like you couldn’t breathe in that moment. Jimin was actually being serious. He had actually thought that low of you. He had doubted your love and sincerity towards him. 
His faith in you had shattered and in turn, he had shattered your heart. 

You turned away from him, unable to look at him anymore. Jimin scoffed as you turned away, not noticing the single tear that fell from your eyes. You sat there in silence for another minute. Jimin was still fuming. He wanted answers from you and he wanted them now. 

Just as he was about to start yelling again, you cut him off. 

“You really want to know what’s going on between me and Tae?” you said with a straight face, wiping away the tears in your eyes. You take out your keys from your purse and push them into Jimin’s hands. “Go inside the house”

Jimin eyed the keys in his hands curiously. “Don’t avoid this conversation by telling me to go into the fucking house” he sneered at you. 

“Dammit Jimin just go into the house!” you almost yelled back. Jimin had finally noticed the pained expression on your face, but he didn’t care. He got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. You too had gotten out of the car, and walked lifelessly behind Jimin to the front door. 

Jimin managed to find the house keys amongst the many keychains you had and finally put the key in the door. As he tried to unlock the door, he noticed your hands in fists as you tried to control the shaking. You had wiped away your tears, but it was quite obvious that you were upset. 

Jimin finally unlocked the door and opened it to find a rather dark house. You both would usually leave at least a small lamp on so that you weren’t met with a dark house, but no such lights were on today. Jimin’s frustration only grew as he struggled to find the light switch near the entrance. Soon though, he found the switch and turned it on. 

“SURPRISE!!!” 

Jimin jumped back from the sudden burst of noise. Jimin looked around the house, only to find it full. Full of his family, friends, and various decorations. There in front of Jimin stood all of his favorite things. The most important people in his life and some of his friends he hadn’t seen in a very long time. There in front of him stood some family from out of the country that he had also missed seeing. There in front of him stood hundreds upon hundreds of decorations in all his favorite colors. Ballons were floating on the ceiling and banners and streamers filled the house. There was something childish yet classy about it and Jimin loved it. Jimin couldn’t even begin to take it all in. He just stood there and smiled at everyone like a fool, totally forgetting about the whole ordeal that happened in the car. 

Suddenly, a group of guys surrounded him and messed with his hair and gave him a few light hits and punches. “Happy Birthday, Jimin!” they said in turns. “Were you surprised??” asked Jungkook.

“How do you like it??” ask Namjoon. 

“We spent like hours with the decorations he better like it” said Hoseok.

“Hours? Well me and Y/N spent weeks, no months, planning this whole thing. We literally went shopping every week because she thought of something new to get. You must have known, right Jimin? Like weren’t you the least bit suspicious?” asked Taehyung as he threw his arm around Jimin’s shoulders. 

And that’s when it hit him. That’s when he remembered what he had just accused you of and Jimin’s heart sank. What had he just done. 

He turned around quickly, finally facing you with his eyes wide. You gave him the smallest of smiles and Jimin noticed your lips trembling as you tried your hardest to hold back tears and break down. “Happy Birthday, Jimin” you say in almost a whisper, but he could still hear it. 

He tries to reach out for you, but you walk away into the sea of guests. and before he can try again, he is greeted by more guests, blocking him entirely. 

You try your hardest to smile and greet guests, but you eventually excuse yourself to change into something a little comfortable. You all but run into your shared bedroom with Jimin and lock yourself into the bathroom. You finally let the tears fall freely and you cover your mouth to hold back the sobs. You don’t know how long you stood there in the bathroom, but by now you were numb. You can hear the party at full swing outside, with loud music and people talking. Surely no one would miss your presence. You realize you can’t stay in the bathroom forever though so you will yourself to get through just tonight. You wipe off all the tear-stained makeup and wash your face with warm water. But your eyes are still kind of red. You walk into your side of the closet and try to find something more suitable for the party. 

Jimin is finally free of most of the guests at this point and begins his search for you again. He had seen you talking to a few people, but that was at least half an hour ago. 

“Sweetheart, Happy Birthday” Jimin hears. His mom and dad walk up to him, arms open for a hug. Jimin gives them a warm smile, despite his mind being focused on finding you. 

“Thank you” he says as he returns the hug. 

“Jimin, this is your last birthday as just a married man! Come next birthday, you’ll be a father too” Jimins father said. He was probably more excited than Jimin for the baby to arrive. He couldn’t wait to spoil his grandchild. 

“That’s right Jimin! The baby will be here for your next birthday darling” his mother chimes. “Enjoy this while it lasts son. You and Y/N will have your hands full this time next year” she continues. 

“Uh.. speaking of Y/N, have you seen her?” Jimin asks nervously. 

“Oh, I believe I heard her saying that she was going to go change into something more comfortable. But she’s been missing for a while, Why don’t you go change and make sure she’s ok too sweetheart?” Jimins mom says as she practically pushes him in the direction of their shared room. 


Jimin walks nervously towards their room, not knowing how to approach you and beg for your forgiveness. Why did he ever doubt you? The look on your face when you had just wished him happy birthday haunted his mind. 

He opens the door to your shared room and to his surprise, it is also fully decorated. There are balloons dancing across the ceiling and twinkle lights around the room. Jimin walked further into the room sitting on the bed as he tried to take it all in. He noticed the light on inside the bathroom and realized you were inside. He looked around the room and realized just how much you had planned. You really had gone the extra mile. 

Jimin finally notices a wrapped present on his nightstand. It was beautifully wrapped with a bouncy bow on the top. He had no doubt in his mind that you wrapped it. 

He carefully ripped the wrapping paper off, only to be met with a white box. He slid the box open and Jimin was shocked. Inside laid the childhood book he had you about all those many nights ago, The Velveteen Rabbit. The book had been published many times, but Jimin had initially owned a very old copy, dating back to around the 50′s. When he tried to find the same book, he couldn’t find the same copy or anyone willing to sell. But the book that laid in front of him was something beyond his imagination. 

He opened up the front cover and looked at the first page. The publishing date of this book dated back to 1922, meaning this was the very first edition. This must have cost a fortune, let alone impossible to find. 

Inside the book also had a small card. Jimin took the card out and placed the book on the side of the bed. He carefully opened up the card to find your small and beautiful handwriting on a pretty birthday card.

Dearest Jimin,

Happy Birthday, sweets! I thank god for blessing me with you everyday. And I guess I’m also thanking your parents for what they did 22 years and 9 months ago. ;)

 I know that we didn’t get into this marriage by choice, but I can happily say now that I always, always will pick you. I love you so, so much. I know I’ve been busy these last couple of weeks, but I hope you finally understand why and hopefully this all makes up for it. Did you like your gift? You really weren’t kidding when you said it was hard to find! I hope one day in the future, we can read this book to our child and maybe they will love it as much as you do. You’re going to be a wonderful father, Jimin. I just know it. I can’t wait to meet our little baby in a few months! Ok, I’m rambling…in a letter. Anyways, love you baby. Hope you have a wonderful day <3

Love, 

Y/n

Jimins hands trembled as he read the letter. How could he have doubted your love for him? How could he have been so stupid? Just then, he heard the door of your bathroom and you emerge, seconds later. Jimin stands up and meets your eyes for the first time in a while. 

It’s obvious that you’ve been crying but you tried to cover it well. But he could still tell. The glow from your eyes were long gone. You look at Jimin with a blank expression, as if you had just seen right through him and it sends a shiver down his spine and it scared him. 

You break eye contact and start to make your way to your door but Jimin stops you as he grabs your wrists. “Baby I- I’m so sor-” he starts. But before he can finish, you yank your hand out of his and walk out the door, leaving Jimin alone in the room.

Jimin stood frozen in the room as the door slammed shut after you walked out. How was he going to make it up to you?


You had returned to the party and Jimin soon followed behind you but you had already started mingling with guests again. You refused to even look in Jimin’s direction. If you even felt him coming closer to you, you would make the effort to move away. 

Jimin noticed you avoiding him and it was hard to get to you. There were so many guests! But Jimin wasn’t the only one who noticed the change. Taehyung also noticed the second you tried to excuse yourself to go change. You seemed really upset and it was easy to see that it was because something had happened between you and Jimin. Though it wasn’t in his place to pry, he felt bad that you were so upset on the day you spent the last 2 months planning. 

Taehyung had found you amongst the crowd and the people you were talking to had excused themselves. You gave Taehyung a small smile, but even he could tell how forced it was. “hey…you okay?” he asks slowly, hoping not to get anyone else’s attention.

Your smile slowly fades only for you to give him a faker smile seconds later. “I’m fine, Tae. Why?” you say, hoping not to discuss anything at the moment. You knew that if you talked about it, you would end up crying again.

“H-have you been crying? I don’t mean to pry, but is everything ok between you and Jimin? I just don’t want you to be upset today after all you planning for it!” he says. 

But before you could answer, you felt arms snake around your waist. “Nothing is going on, Tae. Don’t worry about. And thanks again man for throwing me this party. You’ve planned it so well with Y/n” Jimin says, showing up out of the blue. You look up at Jimin, surprised that you didn’t see him coming. Both the anger and sadness filled you up again. Taehyung could practically see all the tension in the air. 

You pulled Jimin’s arms around your waist, rather forcefully. “Excuse me boys, but I’m going to set up the food” you say as you give Taehyung another fake smile and walk towards the kitchen, not even giving Jimin a glance.”

“Dude what the hell happened?” Taehyung asks Jimin, pulling him to a corner. 

“Nothing, just drop it” says Jimin, growing frustrated. 

“I usually would, but not today. Do you you have any idea how much time and effort your wife put into planning tonight? She’s been excited about this for months. She has poured her love into every step of planning, and yet here she looks like she’s going to breakdown at any second. Look, I get that it’s your birthday and you don’t want to be listening to this right now, but whatever it is that happened between you two, I hope you can make up. You’re my best friend, Jimin. But Y/N is a good friend now too” Taehyung explains.

Jimin looked at Taehyung with a pained expression. He knew he had hurt you badly. It was evident in your eyes. But Jimin didn’t want to tell his best friend that just moments before you of cheating with him. Come to think of it, it was stupid that he even doubted you. He should have known his best friend would never betray him like that. And more importantly, he should have known you would have never betrayed him like that. He should have never doubted you. But he couldn’t tell Taehyung, at least not now. “It’s none of your business Taehyung, so drop it. Whatever it is, it’s between me and Y/n, so stay out of it” Jimin says before walking away, not even seeing Taehyung’s hurt expression.


Jimin kept trying to get you alone after that multiple times, but you evaded him at all costs. It was hard to enjoy the party when he could only focus on you and making things right with you. Before he could attempt talking to you again though, he was called to cut a cake. Everyone starting singing happy birthday and people were pushing you to go stand next to Jimin. You stood there awkwardly as people were singing and Jimin kept looking at you. Finally the song was over and Jimin blew out the candles. People then started to chant “Kiss” in hopes of you to kiss the birthday boy. You kept trying to wave it off, but it seemed like no one was having it. Jimin looked at you hopefully. He didn’t care that everyone else was in the room. He just wanted to kiss you senseless and show you just how sorry he was and how much he had loved you. 

You turned to Jimin, and any smile you had one was quickly gone and Jimin’s heart sank. “Happy Birthday, Jimin” you said quietly as you kissed him on the cheek really quickly before turning to face everyone else. Jimin tried to keep his smile up, but people could kind of sense the tension at this point. 

You almost never called him Jimin anymore. It was always “sweets” or some other cute nickname you would come up with it. So when you use his real name, he knew it was serious. 


The rest of the party went rather slowly for both you and Jimin. People had started drinking and everyone was having their fun. Jimin tried to make the most of the party that you had worked for and decided that you needed your space for now. You on the other hand were just trying to make it through the rest of the night. Fortunately for you though, Taehyung and the rest of his friends had kept you company for the majority of the time.

 Pretty soon though, people filed out of the house. Though you had wanted the party to end, you were anxious now. You realized that after everyone would leave, you would be alone with Jimin and you really didn’t want that. You anxiously waited as one by one, the guests started to leave. Eventually your parents and Jimin’s parents were leaving too 

On their way out, Jimin’s mom pulled Jimin to the side. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but don’t keep a pregnant woman mad at you for too long, son. It’s not too good to keep the mother of your child angry at you. Trust me when I say your father can vouch for that” she says. Jimin gives her a small smile as she too leaves. Maybe you were just this mad because you were hormonal? He just needed to get you alone and he could work things out. 

Soon enough, there were just a few people left and they were all starting getting ready to leave too. One by one, they filed out, and you were getting more antsy by the second. One friend of Jimin’s though was quite drunk. His girlfriend struggled to even get him walking properly and since she was far smaller than him, she needed help getting him to the car. “Hey birthday boy, sorry to ask you of this, but could you help me get this drunk ass to our car? I don’t think I can support his weight” she asked. 

As much as Jimin wanted to just kick the remaining people out of his house, he knew he should help his friend. He turned to look back at you as you began to clean some things in the kitchen. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back in a second. I need to talk to you” he said before grabbing his friend by the shoulders and heading out the door. You said your goodbyes and then, it was just you in the house. You swallowed the lump in your throat and decided that you could clean everything else in the morning. You were both physically and emotionally drained. 

Before turning off the lights in the room, you took one more glance at all the decorations. “I hope he liked it..” you said out loud. 


Jimin practically threw his friend into the car before running back to the house. He yanked the door open, only to find the house somewhat dark again. He ran to his room, only to find the bathroom lights on. He was relieved that you were still here. For a moment, he thought you had left. 

How was he going to make this up to you? What words would make things right again? He called you a slut, he said he regretted marrying you. He asked if the child was even his, and he could practically see your heart break. He sat on the bed, running his hands through has hair nervously. 

Soon, you had finished your night time routine and you hadn’t even realized that you had started to cry again. You came out of the bathroom with your hand placed protectively over your stomach. The only comfort you had right now was the little one inside you. Oh how you just wanted to hold you baby soon. 

You jumped a little when you saw Jimin, not expecting him. You decided that you didn’t want to be in the same room as him for a while, so you walked to your side of the bed and grabbed your pillow while Jimin was trying to form the right words. Jimin noticed your tear stained face and he felt his heart drop at how sad you looked in that moment. You just look so drained, and he was the reason behind it all. 

“Y/N I’m so– wait what are you doing” he asked as you grabbed your pillow. You didn’t reply and instead you just made your way back to your old room, thankful that a bed was still there.

Jimin was surprised for a second and didn’t register what was happening. Recently, you had been saying that you found it hard to sleep without him there and he felt the same too. You always snuggled up to him at the end of the day and now, you didn’t even want to be in the same room? After a hot second, Jimin followed you.

“Wait, don’t just leave. Y/N I’m sorry, ok? Just look at me baby, please” he was pleading as he followed behind you like a lost dog. But you didnt reply and you were crying again. You practically ran the last few steps and before Jimin could reach you, you closed the door on his face and locked the door. You layed down on the bed and tried to calm your heart. You were so hurt, so tired. You just wanted to sleep. 

Jimin on the other hand was pounding on your door, not wanting you to sleep alone and in pain. He needed you as much as you needed him to sleep. And more than anything, he wanted your love for him again. 

“Baby, please” he said. “I’m sorry ok? I didn’t mean the things I said. Please, let me see you ok? Let me hold you tonight and we can talk through everything in the morning” he was begging. But you never opened the door, and Jimin knew to give up till the sun rose again. He was going to get you to forgive him, one way or another. No more mistakes, he thought to himself. No. More. Mistakes.


A/N: SORRY FOR THE WAIT. HERE IT IS. IDK IF I LIKE IT BUT I HOPE YOU DO. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GIVE ME SOME FEEDBACK. also lowkey need more angst so be prepared for that. 

Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

BTS Reaction - sex while camping

A/N: Here’s for that anon that requested this! You also requested something else, which I’m going to write as well so I hope you look forward to that! I love you.

Warning: mature themes below 

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Dean Thinks You’re Hot

Title: Dean Thinks You’re Hot

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 2,122

Anon Request: you think you could write one where the reader feels insecure about her stretch marks/size and Jensen is her best friend and tries to help her feel better?

Warnings: Negative Thoughts, Low Self-Esteem, Fluff, Implied Smut

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated, friends! xoxox

x

Your name: submit What is this?


    Pacing back and forth around your trailer almost drove you dizzy. Back and forth. Back and forth; as if that was going to simultaneously solve all of your problems. It wasn’t. Not even close.

    You had just gotten the memo that your intimate scene with Jensen was moved to today, not that you weren’t sweating buckets the second you got the script, but the fact that the scene was moved to today instead of five days from now had you ripping your hair from your head. You were going to be very exposed to him, and no matter how long the two of you had been friends, this was something you weren’t comfortable with on so many levels.

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Heartbeat | 5

“You’ve always stayed far away from the Kingsnakes, the coldblooded gang that runs the dark heart of your city. That is until your life collides with the intriguing and dangerous Jung Hoseok.”

pairing: hoseok x reader
genre: gang!au, angst, smut
wordcount: 10k

part one | two | three | four | five

** warnings: ANGST, degrading names during sex, dom!Hoseok, violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, dark themes, mentions of drugs, hospital scene

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5 REASONS TO FALL IN LOVE:

      When it came to love, you never understood what all the fuss was about, truly, you didn’t. Not until you met Steve Harrington, that is, and the whole world just started making sense.


EARLY MORNING KISSES:

The first privilege came in arguably the most affectionate show of love – a kiss placed on your lips so early in the morning you never quite know whether you’re dreaming or awake. And it is the absolute sweetest because you are the first thing on Steve’s mind when he opens his eyes and the last one before he closes them.

Early birds chirp their cheery tunes at dawn and the sun slowly rises; bright rays peak through the closed curtains of your room and burn the side of your cheek in almost a loving way. Steve is the first to stir – naturally, he is much more sensitive to sudden changes in lighting and temperature – and once he pries one hazy sleep ridden eye open all he can make out is a blurry image of your white ceiling. He blinks a few times, inhales a few breaths that taste like your perfume before his senses finally flow back into him and he tilts his head to the side. His hair sticks to his face and he shoves it out his eyes; he sees you still deep in sleep and most likely dreaming. And he wastes no time to lay his hand on your waist, feel your hot skin burn his fingertips as a lazy smile blooms on his lips. This peace lasts a moment, or possibly much longer, after all it’s hard to tell time when most of the world is still sleeping. He leans in and captures your lips in a soft kiss – a kiss he gives you every morning because true to the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty, you can only be awoken by a true loves kiss. He tried other methods. Tickling. Calling your name. A dozen alarm clocks. Nothing got a reaction, except this one thing and he did not use it sparingly.

The vast skies of dreams cloud with reality as slowly you feel yourself sucked into a stuffy, hot room, with dewy sweat coating your skin and batches of hair tickling your cheeks. The senses alert  in one deep inhale and you grin immediately once you realize that Steve’s lips still rest on yours; a raspy giggle escapes you as you playfully smack his arm and he gradually, with one last peck on your cheek and a sweet and hoarse ‘Good morning…’ moves back to his pillow. Your hand finds his under the sheets, your fingers squeezing his as you hum.

Babe…” You whisper.

“Yea?”

Not morning…”

“Morning. School.”

No.”


MOVIE DATES:

Hawkins Movie Theatre is your favorite spot to hang out and of course Steve knows this. After all, he took you here on your first date. So each time you stepped through those double doors felt like the first time holding his hand all over again.

Midnight séance. A horror movie with flashy imagery and more nudity than you expected plays on screen as teenagers that are legal and not sit in couples and whisper amongst themselves. You sink into the plush red seat and inhale the scent of popcorn, cola, and something frying. The sounds are loud and unpleasant and you have to refrain from cringing when the volume jumps just a bit too loud. Your eyes stay glued to the screen despite the urge to ogle your boyfriend – you know that once you glance at him you will be unable to look away.

His hand rests on your thigh. Naturally, shoulder hugs are only for starting lovebirds, but you still remember how he pulled the old ‘yawn-wrap-my-arm-around-your-shoulders-don’t-freak-out-please’ shtick on you and how you absolutely swooned. Suddenly memories appear more interesting than the movie and you drift away. Oh, what a rainy day it had been when he had asked you out, not all that smug and cool. Not like the rumors painted him to be at all. He caught you after school, after basketball practice, as you were leaving your club with a stack of books and flyers occupying the space in your hands. He had offered to carry some heavier books and you had smiled sweetly at him for it. Then, once you reached your locker, and as you put the clutter away he had asked you if you wanted to ‘Catch a movie sometime?’. Your first reaction was to raise a brow in confusion and mild amusement. When you saw that he was serious, and despite himself nervous, your cheeks bloomed red and a shaky ‘Yeah…I’d like that’ fell from your lips before you could even think about it.

Steve’s hand squeezes your thigh and you perk up. Meeting eyes with him you try to bite down the smile. Seems he got bored of the movie, too.


SHARING SECRETS:

Your house had been turned upside down as you, in great anger, tried to explain what the hell had happened to one of your friends. And how no one was supposed to know about it.

Steve sat on your bed with a book in his hand – English literature, can’t say it’s his favorite – as you pace around the small space of your room with your hands up in the air repeating the same wild gestures as you fight to control the volume of your voice. With blushed cheeks and a permanent frown on your face, you suddenly halt and stare at him, “Can you believe it?!”

“No.” He says, turning a page, “How could she?” His voice tatters on the edge of genuine interest. Frankly, he doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal, but if you want to vent he isn’t going to stop you.

“I know, right!?” You release a frustrated sigh and run a shaky hand through your hair; a moment of absolute silence passes and worried Steve glances up at you. Wide eyed, you state, “I don’t think I can be friends with her after this.”

You want his opinion. Dear God, you want his opinion. His advice is debatable in quality (Dustin, after all, didn’t get the girl despite Steve’s 100% proven technique) and to toss in his two cents in the beef that you have with your friend? This may potentially ruin your and hers friendship, or at the very least what’s left of it. Silently, he puts the book aside and motions for you to come closer. Sadly you walk over, and gently grasping your hand he pulls you into his lap. His head comes to rest on your shoulder as his arms wrap around your waist and you find a comfortable position to rest. A heavy sigh escapes your lips and he can’t help but frown. He doesn’t want to see you like this.

Hey…” He calls softly, his fingers hooking some loose strands of (color) hair over your ear, “Don’t be sad. I mean, I’m really not the best person to discuss girl troubles with, but like you said…She’s a bitch.”

You nod, “I know, but…But she’s my bitch, Steve.”

He thinks, “…Yeah. She’s your bitch.”

“I should call her.”

“Yep. You go do that.”


TAKING PICTURES TOGETHER:

You love looking at pictures. Especially on rainy days when there is nothing better to do and the need for social interaction is on an all-time low. You suppose you like them so much because they are proof. Proof that something magical had happened.

Oh my God!” Your mother cries, her hands grasping the Polaroid camera as if her life depends on it, “Oh my God, (F/Name)! (F/Name) come here! Our little baby’s all grown up now!” Her voice cracks at the end and you can’t help but release an amused smile.

You share a look with Steve. He gives a shrug. The two of you stand together, his arm around your waist. Graduation. You wear your best dress, finest hairdo, and perfect smile. You are positive Steve put an extra hours’ worth of work into his hair today, and you have the sudden urge to run your finger through it, though the amount of self-control you have surprises even you.

Another flash lights up the room and flinch and squint your eyes to shield yourself from the sudden attack. This is possibly the sixteenth picture that had fallen to the floor with your mothers promise to ‘Pick it up later! Now pose!’. Not having the heart in you to refuse her, you straighten your back, smile to the camera, and pray that you don’t look half as uncomfortable as you feel. Steve leans in and you feel his breath brush your ear, “Do you think she’ll ever stop?”

“Smile and pretend like you’re having a good time, sweetie.”


VIBING ALL NIGHT LONG:

The amount of records you have stocked up in your room makes Steve proud to call you his girl. The fact that the two of you share the same music taste is a huge plus, too.

…And your favorite song starts playing on the radio that goes in perfect tune with your laughing. Steve’s car suddenly turns into a dance floor – you squirm in your seat and do quick work to open the window to let the whole neighborhood hear your jam. The stars shape into fairy lights and street lamps flicker like at the disco on a Friday night. You close your eyes and inhale the scent of dewy grass as and wind and pollinated sleeping flowers. Summer is your favorite time of year, and no matter what hour you decide to sneak out the house you always find yourself in a permanent state of daze and awe. Last remnants of heat tickle your cheeks and you flash your eyes open, look at Steve and he shares your brilliant smile.

You hold your choice of beer up to his face, “Sippy!” You demand. He gives you a dismissive laugh, his hands firmly on the steering wheel as he continues to drive around.

“I can’t—“ But before he can finish you turn up the volume and demand again.

“Sippy!”

“I’ll have to park the car!” He warns. You shake your head, “We’ll have to walk a mile home!”

“Don’t care! Sippy!”



a/n: edited this at 3am lmao don’t @ me if u find mistakes orz
ALSO! FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST <3

if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!

MASTERLIST.


forever tags: @tozierswheelers @princesspeach212@ohblue@phillipas00@ichigothewisewolf@alittlebitofmagic@vanillaladyuniverse@onehellofdevilotaku@itsallinyourimagination @whatshernamemaria@magical-spit @viixenbriiar @averagewemo@sams-my-babys-daddy @jordysgirl87 @iamhereyoudidthis @thehuntchback@badbitsh13 @orchiddarling @michelangelui@hugeroftrees @pupylvr4905@gcnnyweasleys@nerdysandwichqueen @oomylifeiseternalsufferingoo@cheshirecatbyul @broken-pieces  @multiphandom-unicorn @duncruce@mercymomlovesyouforever @ninetynineredballoonsgoby@httpvirtualgraves @eighties-hoe

Makeup Marichat May, Day 11. Age-up Marinette!

Title: Change
Word Count: 1,934

It’d been a while since he really saw her last. After they’d gone off to university, he’d had a hectic schedule that didn’t allow him much time to socialize with his friends from middle school or high school. Plus, with Nino away in Spain, and Alya’s web journalism internship they hardly had a chance to all get together.

Seeing her now, sitting on her balcony quietly consumed in sketching, Chat Noir was hit with an overwhelming wave of nostalgia.

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Lie to me - Dean Winchester x Reader - Chapter 2 (French Mistake AU)

Title: Lie to me

Pairing: Dean/Jensen x Reader x Sam

Word Count: 4,342

Warnings: None

Imagine: Imagine Dean and Sam getting transported to the French Mistake universe. Only for Dean to realize he is married to you, his best friend, love of his life and… Sam’s girlfriend.

Great thank you to @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo for being an amazing beta!

Read Part 1 here!

“Well, talking about awkward huh?” Dean laughed nervously as Sam only looked at him with a hard look.

“Yeah, very.” he said through pursed lips and Dean cleared his throat, avoiding looking at him in the first place.

“Honey?” it was your voice that broke the silence that had set between the two Winchesters “Can you come help me?” you sounded a little too eager and at your question Dean’s body stiffened and he felt his heart beat harder inside his chest. Gosh, how every fiber in his body just screamed for him to find you.

But he knew he had to keep himself, much less something from showing. He cleared his throat and shook his head “Well, this is gonna be a whole lot of fun.” he huffed.

“Definitely.” Sam mumbled and Dean instantly looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You know I’m just joking, right?” he asked with a deep frown but Sam wouldn’t even look him in the eyes.

“Yeah, when are you not?” he stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and prefered to look at the things that were in the house instead of pay attention to his insanely increasing jealousy.

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BTS when they slap you: Kim Taehyung version

Sorry this took a while. I was going to put this up yesterday but shit happened and i couldn’t. hope yall don’t mind. Check out my masterlist for the rest of the members.

enJOYY


Kim Taehyung was angry. So very angry. He couldn’t choose why, though. He had so many reasons. 

Was it because of the hot weather?Was it because of the pressure of the new album? Was it because of the stress that came with his fame? Was it because of the nagging of his parents? Was it because of his fight with Jungkook? or Jimin or Yoongi? Was it because Bang-pd never seemed to pay him as much attention? Was it because of his girlfriend? because she was too nonchalant? because she wasn’t doting on him all the time like other girls did to their boyfriends? did she even like him? or was she together with him just for the fame? would she break up with him if he ever hit a financial low? 

He did not know. 

What he did subconsciously know was who he could take that anger out on without too much collateral damage. Not his parents, not his fans, not his band-mates, not his CEO…but you. You would understand, surely? He needed to vent and you were his girlfriend, right? His other half, his lover, his significant other. You loved him, right? You could take his anger for him. You would stroke his head and tell him that he could scream as much as he wanted, as long as he wanted, if it meant dissipating his frustration. The frustration that was eating him up inside. It was like at that moment, his sanity was secured inside an overinflated balloon which could burst anytime and yet, someone or the other would keep blowing air into the balloon. What could he do? He wanted so desperately for this phase to end. Nothing else covered his mind except letting his frustration out so when you entered the bighit headquarters with his take-out, he took it as the perfect opportunity. 


You loved your boyfriend. 

Granted, you were not as expressive in terms of physical affection in front of people, but that did not mean you didn’t love him. You did. You knew it, he knew it and to you, that is all that mattered. The commentary of the people surrounding the relationship was insignificant for you. You would show him love when you felt it most(which was all the time, really) but you did not deem it necessary to show it in front of people, especially keeping in mind the nature of his job. But you had noticed the shift in his behaviour in the past one month. Closed off, paranoid, stressed and angry were the words you would use to describe his behaviour now instead of adorable, alien-like, jovial, cheerful and happy. He snapped more often than not. He fought with his brother like friends. With you. There was something clearly bothering him and he either did not know how to express it or didn’t want to worry you. So you stepped out of your comfort zone and resorted to showing him how loved he was. You would steal kisses, give him back hugs, encourage him to make love (this always seemed to work the best albeit the effect did not last long) and surprise him with take outs from his favourite restaurant. That is exactly what you were doing today.  You had hurried to his workplace, the bighit headquarters, as soon as your lunch break had started in the office, knowing that he would be practicing with the boys. You had his take out in one hand and your overcoat hung around the elbow of your other arm. If the boy felt less loved, god knows that you would do anything to make him feel all the love in the world. He deserved it. 

You took large steps despite your outfit- a beige pencil skirt paired with tight maroon quarter sleeves and maroon matte pumps. The nature of your job required you to dress fashionably but formally during work hours. Being a lawyer was as much a job of appearances as it was was of immense hard work, both physical and psychological. After all, appearances have a great psychological impact, do they not? 

The corners of your mouth lifted into a light smile as you opened the doors of the practice room to find three men sprawled out on the floor out of pure exhaustion and one sitting on the corner chair; his face blank, his eyes glazed. 

Your smile changed into a worried frown as soon as you saw him. He was clearly more disturbed than usual. Had something happened? Nontheless, you forced a smile on your face as you shut the door behind you and moved towards him. He didn’t need more negativity around him. 

“Hi noona! Is that food?” Jungkook said as soon as he spotted the carry-bag in your hand. Jimin and Hoseok soon followed suit as the they got up from their positions and sat down on the floor, still lacking the energy to stand. Jungkook was young, though. He got up and in a flash he was in front of you, blocking your way and rummaging through the food- until you slapped his hands away, that is. 

“Ow! That hurt!” He pouted. 

You ruffled his hair, gave him a playful glare and said as you turned around him to go towards Taehyung, “Go fetch your own, kid.” 

“Tch, you guys are gross.” Jungkook called after you as he went back to lie down with his hyungs. 

You rolled your eyes but continued walking towards your boyfriend. 

Hope he likes what I got him. 


He knew it. He knew it for sure now. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? You had always been too friendly with the maknae, ruffling his hair and pinching his cheeks as he turned bright red. He had just not thought much of it because you were both family and you wouldn’t do that to him, right? Only now he realised how wrong he was. You were cheating on him with his brother! He grit his teeth at the thought. 

How dare you?

He looked up to take in your appearance as you stood in front of him, your coat in one arm and food in the other. He looked you up and down, the tight maroon quarter sleeves covered your torso just right, exposing the right amount of cleavage. Your pencil skirt hugged your small waist perfectly and moved down till your knees, revealing your beautiful legs. He moved his eyes back towards your face as he took in your hair and how it was open, flowing beautifully down your back in long waves. 

God, you were breathtakingly beautiful. 

He felt his anger dissipate a little as he took in your appearance, feeling himself calm down at your presence only for it to increase a hundred-fold as the image of Jungkook gripping your hair tight while he fucked you senseless made a very vivid appearance in his mind. His mind went blank and red covered his eyes as he completely tuned out your words as you set up his lunch. He pulled you up by your elbow harshly, hardly registering the shocked expression on your face, and whacked you right across your face with strength he did not know he possessed. 


You should have noticed it the moment you entered the practice room, the feral look in his eyes. Maybe you even did. But you were too blinded with hope and confidence. You thought that maybe, if you show him how much you care for him, he would slowly open up and share his problems with you. 

But you knew now, as you stood gripping the arm of the chair with one hand and your cheek with the other, with Hoseok standing in front of you, shielding you from…your boyfriend and Jimin consoling you by circling his hand on your back and whispering words in your ears that you did not hear at all, that it was a futile attempt. 

You let out shaky breaths and grit your teeth as you closed your eyes tightly to avoid thinking about anything at all. 

“___, shh, don’t cry. I’m so sorry, it’ll be okay.” Jimin repeatedly said in your ears in an effort to console you.

You eyes flew open. You were crying? You removed your hands from your cheek and the chair simultaneously as you stood up straight. Ignoring the blood on your hand, which was surely from your aching lip, you brought it just below your eyes as you felt the wetness. 

You were crying. 


It was as if the ballon had burst and in turn, flipped a switch within him. His anger had all but disappeared when he hit you. In it’s place now, was confusion. He was pushed back into the wall, away from you by Jungkook as Jimin hurried to you to see the extent of the damage. Hoseok stood in front of you facing Taehyung, acting as a shield between you and him. But why would he do that? Why would he act as a shield between you and him? He was your boyfriend, he loved you and he had hit-

Taehyung’s heart dropped as he realised why Hoseok stood between you and him. 

He had hit you.

“You bastard, how dare you hit a woman?” Hoseok growled under his breath. 

Taehyung tried to back away but Jungkook held him in place staring at him with a scandalized expression on his face. “Hyung..w-why?” 

Taehyung looked down at his hands with widened eyes as he tried to remember what had gotten him so angry in the first place. Was it something about you and Jungkook or you and Jimin? He couldn’t remember. It was absurd no matter how many times he thought about it. You could never cheat on him. You loved him, he knew it. He closed his eyes as the tears made their way down his face. Suddenly, he felt drained of all energy. It was as if he had been feeling too much lately and he was tired of all the emotions. His back touched the wall and he slid down until he was sitting on the floor, not caring about the tears staining his practice clothes. 

“It’s okay Jimin, I’m fine. I’m leaving.” 

Taehyung’s energy made a shocking appearance as his eyes flew open at your broken announcement and with the speed of a bullet train, he rushed forward and grabbed your hand. 

“___, wh-where are you going? Co-come with me, okay? I’m really sor-” 

He was interrupted when you put your right hand up, silencing him. 

“Kim Taehyung.” Your eyes were red as you looked right at him. holding yourself together somehow. “We are done. I’ll have moved out by the time you reach home.” And you yanked your hands out of his grip and left the room in the big, long strides you had come in. 

Taehyung just stood there in shock. It was as if a thousand bricks had been cemented around his legs and the power of moving his hands and legs had all but abandoned him. He watched you, as you left the building, got in your car and drove away, leaving him for good. 

Only then, did he find the strength to turn around in desperation, to his hyung. He stumbled towards Hoseok, eyes flooding with tears as he held on to his hyung’s t-shirt and sobbed in his chest. 

“Hy-hyung..what do I do? I-I can’t live without her. P-Please hyung, do something! PLEASE!” 

Hoseok removed Taehyung’s grip from his t-shirt as he said the words Taehyung feared the most. 

“There’s nothing to be done, Taehyung-ah. You hit your own girl. She’s not coming back and dare I say…you deserve it.” 



so that’s it. I’ve left an open ending for reasons I do not know, it just felt right. hope everyone enjoys reading this. Hoseok version will come up next- when, I do not know. I will repeat this again, it is never ever okay to hit someone. For anyone who is in an abusive relationship, I am so sorry. I hope you can come out of it and I hope you get all the happiness in the world because you deserve it.  

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

much love, 

Inferno-loop

Innocent

Prompt: The Five Times the Losers Noticed Richie and Eddie’s Feelings and the One Time They Decided to Do Something About It

Suggested by: @lukemybieber

Pairings: Reddie, Implied Menverly, Implied Stenbrough

Trigger Warnings: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Swearing, Referenced 1933 Movie, Boys Kissing, Referenced Pasta Hair, This is pretty innocent tbh basically no smut

Aged Up Characters!

All Eddie Kaspbrak had ever wanted was some peace and quiet. Unfortunately for him, he had an eternal headache and his name was Richie Tozier.

The wise-cracking, ‘your mom,’ joke-spewing, ADHD-ridden ball of child neglect, nicotine cigarettes and alcohol. He loved him more than words could describe.

He always, always kept his window unlocked should his parents get so drunk they couldn’t stand straight and ended up passing out on the kitchen table amidst a puddle of hard liquor. His father was a hostile drunk, but he was mostly away fucking some woman named Jeannie in Nova Scotia. Because of that, his mother was usually sleeping off a hangover, only to cure that hangover with either more booze or screaming profanities at the boy himself.

He’d met Richie’s dad once, didn’t look a lot like him other than the eyes and blindingly pale skin. He was internally very grateful for that fact.

What he was not grateful for was his motor-mouthed best friend obliviously telling Eddie every fact about airplanes, probably more than anyone else had ever figured out, and doing a bad imitation of the blades whirring with his mouth. In the process, he’d spit all over Eddie’s math homework, who Richie himself was supposed to be helping him with. And it’d suddenly turned into a dramtic reenactment of the end of the King Kong movies.

“So then the blonde lady is all ‘help me somebody save me!’” He screeched in a pitched voice, throwing an arm over his forehead, “And King Kong is like 'nobody can save you now! Bwahahaha!’”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and stared at the problem. What is x if y is equal to the airplane shooting at– dammit Richie.

Stan would be over to help them study as soon as he got out of the synagogue for prayer with his father, at least then he figured he may get something done.

“But then the girl is like 'bitch you THOUGHT,’ and she like totally annihilates him, but there are airplanes in the background and she doesn’t– are you even listening to me, Eds?” Richie broke off his incessant chatter to scan Eddie’s face, to which the younger boy rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah, riveting shit, really.” Eddie scoffed sarcastically, reading over the problem for the fourth time. As he was staring at the paper, it was suddenly stolen from him by Richie.

“Math? Math is stupid, math is boring! You know what’s not boring? King Kong.” Richie laid down on his stomach to inspect the worksheet.

“You got number seven wrong. Y should be fifty-nine point three, see you forgot to carry the one.” Richie showed him his own paper and pointed out his mistake. Eddie nodded and reached for his paper, but Richie pulled it away at the last second.

“Ah- ah- ah. No more math until I finish my story.” Eddie reached up, but Richie was both faster and taller. He rolled over and laid on his back, the paper underneath him.

“You jackass! Give it back!” Eddie’s brilliant solution to the problem was to throw his legs over Richie’s stomach and try to reach behind him for the worksheet. Richie’s only goal seemed to be keeping the paper beneath him, shoving Eddie father and farther back until he was straddling his crotch. They were both so caught up in tickling each other and laughing, they didn’t notice the door swing open and Stan’s shocked face holding an Algebra textbook tucked under one arm, his bird naming book under the other, and a box of pizza in both of his hands.

He cleared his throat loudly, and it was at that moment that both boys realized the position they were in. They slinked away from each other, red-faced and embarrassed, but Stanley never said a word. He simply set the pizza box on the bed, opened his math book and never said another word about it.

That was, of course, the last week of freshman year.

And they managed to stay away from another situation like that until the spring of sophomore year in high school.

Right up until mid-July, at a 50’s style diner towards the outskirts of Derry, which they’d basically all adopted as another hangout spot.

“She is a snake! She is a liar, a scumbag, a piece of shit, the lowest of the low-”

“All because she gave you a B- on your writing quiz, because your handwriting is illegible. Seriously! Even I can’t read it sometimes, Trashmouth!” Eddie groaned, sipping his vanilla milkshake while Richie ranted to him about their writing teacher.

“Well if she wanted a legible report on the Vietnam War she should have asked us to use a typewriter! Ah say, ah say, it’s bullshit, good sir!” Richie faked a British accent, which Eddis had to admit was getting at least a little bit better.

“Do you even own a typewriter?” Eddie questioned, though he was only slightly annoyed and wished Mike would just hurry up and get there with Richie’s latest X-men comic that he’d borrowed, because it was basically the most important thing in Richie’s life at the moment.

“Big Bill does! He doesn’t let me use it though, because last time I typed 'Henry Bowers is a shit-spitting sissy boy,’ and was gonna make copies to hang all over school. He didn’t think it was the best idea, but I think it would have been fucking hilarious. Can you picture the look on his face, Eds?” Richie was always coming up with ridiculous and random ideas that were normally completely half-thought out and he had no real intentions to follow through with them.

Eddie scoffed and his eyes flicked to the door yet again. Mike still had five minutes, they knew he wouldn’t be late. Mike Hanlon was never late.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out with Richie, he obviously did. But ever since the end of middle school, something seemed to have shifted between them, like the balance of the universe was… off. For starters, he realized he thought about Richie the way Ben talked about Beverly, or Beverly talked about both Mike and Ben. He could tell that ever since she and Bill had decided to stop their childish crush before it became serious, that yes, they still respected each other, but Beverly seemed to be in a constant battle between Mike and Ben. It was a little weird, but not as weird as the way only one person came to his mind when Ben recited his newest poem about love, about how when you think about the person, your heart seems to flutter, how you feel like you could spend forever with them, and it still wouldn’t feel like long enough.

But he realized that boys weren’t supposed to feel that way about other boys, and his mom would go apeshit if he told her.

He smiled and moved over to sit on Richie’s lap, which took him by surprise, but he was not unopposed to. Eddie sat on Richie’s lap all the time at the Barrens, whenever he was afraid of his allergies acting up or he just wanted to be closer to the boy.

He leaned with his back towards the wall, one arm resting across his shoulders, one in his lap. Neither of them talked. It was a comfortable position for both of them and neither wanted to break the comfortable silence radiating throughout the air.

Not many other people hung out in the diner, that was what made it so special. It was like their very own little hideout, a secret kept from the rest of the world, except the regulars, of course.

They heard the little bell on the top of the door ring and he scrambled off Richie’s lap, but not before Mike saw. He pretended like he didn’t, though, so he was looking up when they saw him.

He faked seeing them and put on a bright smile, waving to them and holding the comic to his chest, watching as Richie’s face lit up. Stan had told him about something like that at the end of freshman year, where they were just comfortably… on each other, like it was the most casual thing in the world. At first, Mike had just assumed they were affectionate friends, but during the meal, he could see the two boys flicking anxious glances between one another and he realized there could be more to the story.

And again, they never spoke of it, because talking about it would make it real, and what was there to make?

Eddie was merely sixteen when he needed to get his wisdom teeth removed. It was both an emergency surgery and an important moment in his life, so naturally, he called on his three best friends to make sure he was okay after the surgery.

Bill Denbrough, who had been his best friend since childhood, taught him how to ride a bike and never made fun of him or his illnesses, Stanley Uris, who always knew what to do with the rather frequent anxiety attacks he had, and of course, Richie Tozier, because Richie was the most loveable damned idiot in the world, and there would never be a scenario where he was not there. He wanted to bring the other losers, but the doctor said any more than three people was too much.

The surgery went well, despite his anxiety over it. It only became a problem when he was wheeled into the patient room in a wheelchair, giggling like a madman with cotton in his mouth.

“He’s high!” Richie squealed with genuine joy in his tone.

“Stanley!” Eddie suddenly screamed, eyes fixed on the tall, Jewish boy. He smiled goofily, his eyes unfocused.

“Stan… Stanley, c'mere.” He motioned for him to come closer. Stan looked between Richie and Bill, who shrugged.

He bent down near Eddie’s wheelchair and smiled softly.

“Hi, E-”

“You have pasta on your head!” He reached out to grab Stan’s hair, but a now-frowning Jewish boy bat his hand away.

“Fuck you, Eddie,” Stan grumbled, looking away. He began giggling again.

“Where’s Bill? I love Bill!” Eddie’s eyes peeled curiously around the sterile waiting room.

“I’m ruh- right here,” Bill spoke up, leaning down onto his knees and the side of the wheelchair. Eddie reached a limp hand onto his face.

“I love you, Bill. You’re my best friend! If anybody asks I’ll say… I like my best friend Bill… but-” His eyebrows furrowed in thought, “But I love my best friend Richie.”

“Aw, Eds. I always knew you loved me!” Richie came up from behind Bill and sat on the other side of Eddie’s wheelchair.

He removed his hands from Bill’s face and brought them softly to Richie’s.

“Mm- hmm…” He hummed softly, dreamily. His fingers combed through Richie’s untamed curls, thumbs finding themselves underneath his glasses.

“I like your face… I like your eyes, and your hair… and glasses. But… I also like your jokes. Sometimes they’re funny…” Eddie whispered, his fingers brushing against Richie’s lips. His eyes were transfixed on them, the pink, chapped, peeling mess they were.

“You think my jokes are funny, Eds?” Richie’s voice came out awkwardly pitched, and neither of them noticed Bill watching the exchange intently. He almost felt like he was interrupting a private moment between them.

“Yeah… sometimes. I don’t like the ones about my mom, though. That’s gross.” Richie grinned, then Stan came in the room and they helped Eddie out of his chair and to the car.

He was heavy and he wasn’t walking right, so they had to balance him between them, Bill unlocking the car while Richie and Stan walked on either side of him with his arms pulled around their shoulders.

When they got in the car, Bill was driving, Stan in the passenger’s seat, and Eddie asleep against Richie’s shoulder in the back.

Bill had never seen them act so quiet and… intimate towards each other before. It was strange, but if it made them happy, Bill was unopposed.

During the summer of Junior year, everything became too much for Beverly again. She ran as fast as she could, feet slamming against the pavement, to get to Richie’s house. She just needed to see him.

She swung her leg over the tree branch close to his window and leapt off onto the roof, knocking quickly on the glass with her fist.

The light was on, so she was sure he’d be home, and there was a soft murmering on his side. She saw a shift in light as he drew back the curtains, and the second he saw her bruised eye and busted lip, he pulled her into a hug.

“Oh, Beverly…” He sighed, with pity in his tone. When it was quiet, she could hear a soft sobbing and feel another presence in the room. She turned her head slowly to the side to see Eddie, with red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks running down his face.

“Eh- Eddie?” She choked out, peering through misty eyes at him. She heard Richie heave a rattling sigh.

“Yeah, I have two of you tonight. We can watch a movie if you want, but please clean off your lip first, I can get you some ice from the fridge.” She nodded quickly, because if Eddie wouldn’t ask questions, neither would she.

She went to the bathroom and splashed some water on her face, hoping that she’d feel better. When she went back to the room, Richie had pulled Eddie onto his chest and the shorter boy had nuzzled his head right underneath his chin. He was silently crying about something, mumbling 'It was bullshit, Rich, it was all bullshit. She lied to me, she lied.’

Richie was comforting him with soft assurances whispered into his hair and his hand rubbing soft circles in Eddie’s back. She sat on the bed next to them, a feeling settling in her stomach. They turned on a movie– Ferris Bueller’s Day Off– and Eddie fell asleep against Richie almost instantly. He’d wrapped his arm around her shoulders and then she didn’t feel so alone.

She was woken up when Eddie woke up, not because he was crying so much as just to push himself off of Trashmouth and go back to sleep pretending nothing ever happened.

They were eighteen when Ben finally saw them as well, except it wasn’t as innocent as the other times, in fact quite the opposite.

They’d all been planning to meet at Mike’s house for movie night before they all had to leave for college. It would have been alright, had Mike not left them to their own devices with the TV. Of course they would argue about what show they’d watch and neither would settle.

Ben was just walking into the house, not trying to be scarred by the image of one of his best friend’s heads pressed against the other’s crotch, but his wish would not be granted, as when he turned into the living room, that was basically the position they were in.

They said it’d happened on accident and both of them turned bright red when Ben noticed. He never got a clear explanation of what happened, both boys seemed to completely deny it, making up some excuse about a remote or something like that.

He had absolutely no idea how that was a viable excuse, but he’d learned from his friends it was best not to talk about the tension between them.

Richie tried to play it off with a cheap dick joke and Eddie beeped him and hit him upside the head.

“So Ben… how’s it going with… Beverly?” Eddie attempted to distract. Ben blushed and shook his head, because he didn’t want to think about the time he, Mike, and Beverly had hung out together and he’d not-so-accidentally kissed both of them.

Soon enough, Mike came into the room with Star Wars on VHS and they all settled when Bill entered the house. He always did have a calming prescence.

They’d all sprawled out across each other, Beverly in between Mike and Ben on the couch, Stan leaning his head on Bill’s shoulder, Richie with his head on Eddie’s lap. And Ben couldn’t forget how their faces were red as cherry tomatoes and they both kept flicking anxious glances over to him.

It wasn’t like they cared much, nobody really did, but it was still a compromising position.

It was finally college, the last night the Losers would be spending together, all together at least, until they left Derry and by extension, each other. It wasn’t all bad, Bill, Stan, and Mike managed to get accepted into the same college, which was only fourty miles away from Beverly’s and fifty away from Ben’s. Richie and Eddie had also managed to get into the ssme college, but it was a whole different state away from the other’s.

They’d all decided to get drunk and play seven minutes in heaven in Ben’s closet. All night, Eddie had noticed the Losers were acting sort of strange, all except Richie. He tried to tell himself it was just because they were drunk or upset because of college. He didn’t either of those excuses.

The way they played the game, it was sort of a mix between spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven.

Whoever the bottle landed on was who you had to go into the closet with. Eddie had at first landed on a drunken Bill, who spent their whole seven minutes gushing about Stan’s face.

A few other turns passed, and then it was Richie’s turn. And he landed on Eddie. Eddie held his breath as Richie guided them into the closet and slammed the door shut.

They both just stared at each other for a few soul-crushing minutes. And then Richie spoke up.

“Well come on, Eds. It’s seven minutes in heaven. I thought you’d be all over this.” Richie gestured obscenely. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Beep beep, Trashmouth.” But it wasn’t said with the usual annoyance, because suddenly Richie was coming towards him, and he intertwined their fingers together, slowly pushing Eddie towards the wall.

Eddie’s heart was racing so fast he was sure Richie could sense it.

“This is fine,” He muttered, because he did that a lot, tried to convince himself that things were alright when he was on the verge of screaming with emotion. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, though, and Richie took it as the go-ahead to press his lips against Eddie’s.

The kiss was soft, his lips were chapped, but warm and gentle. He didn’t try to force his tongue down his throat, the way Eddie’s mother had always told him kisses were.

It was just… innocent. Everything was quiet around them, it was dark, but everything felt like it was glowing around him. Richie bit Eddie’s lips softly, their breaths becoming the only sound in the room. He picked Eddie up by his thighs and Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss, because that was what they wanted.

They just kept kissing, coming up for air every once in a while, but not talking. Not ever talking. It had obviously been way longer than seven minutes and Eddie wasn’t even sure if the Losers were out there anymore. So that had been their plan, try to get them drunk and making out. It’d worked.

They didn’t want to talk about what happened, and when Richie looked, they’d been in the closet for a whole twenty minutes. None of the Losers commented on their messy hair, or the hickey on Eddie’s collarbone.

The Losers knew how to get them together better than they did.

Taglist: @toziertrashmouth @s-s-georgie @childishsoup @beep-beep-richie-trashmouth @beep-beep-gazebos @ithinkthe4thkindisabuttthing @trashmouth-reddie Bolded means I couldn’t tag you.

Masterlist (Riverdale & Stranger Things)

RIVERDALE

Jughead X Reader/OC:

Long Multi-Chapter Fics -

A Little Less Sixteen Candles: - Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 “Mona was never the fool to believe that those sappy rom-coms she loved so dearly were anything but fiction, but that couldn’t stop her heart from holding out for one tiny miracle. When Jughead Jones finally asks her to the prom, albeit as friends, she starts to believe that happy endings might exist after all. -COMPLETED

Colour Soulmate AU / Part 2 - “Erica Mars has seen the world in its many colours from the tender age of eight. Unsure with what to do with this revelation she hides it from the world, at eight she has more important things to think about then the concept of ‘True Love’. As the years pass, however, hiding the status of her (non-existent) love-life proves to take its toll on her heart and of course sitting across from her soulmate everyday does nothing to help.” (Hints of Beronica and Barchie)

Four Times You Told Jughead Jones You Loved Him, and the One Time He Said Back - Part 1: “ The first time you told him you loved him it was because he needed it.”

Prompts/Imagines/Reader/SongFics - 

Slumber - Jughead comforts you after a long and tough day.

Sunbeam - A short and sweet moment capturing what it’s like to wake up next to your best friend.

Regret - Jughead x OC (Amy): An alternative to Jughead’s birthday, one drunken mistake leads to a lifetime of regrets for somebody on that fateful night.

The Drive-In Closes Down - Pretty self-explanatory, Twilight closes down and the reader comes to comfort Jug - sad/angsty 

Blue and Gold [Part 2] [Part 3] - You are assigned with helping the only person in Riverdale who seems to hate your guts for no reason, you’re determined to get some answers - fluffy/angst 

Are We Actually Fighting? - Jughead doesn’t realise you’re seriously mad at him right now - fluff / jealous reader

He’s Just Not That Into You - Based on Gigi and Alex in the film of the same title, not really a fic or a drabble more of a quick prompt.

Dancing with Jughead - You try desperately to get Jughead to dance with you at a party -fluffy/funny

Fire - You are suffering through your first panic attack, you have no idea what is happening to you but luckily one of your bestfriends is here to help - angsty and friendly Jughead X Reader

Pop-Tarts - Your brothers annoying best friend moving into your house shouldn’t be a massive problem right? What about when you start to develop a crush on said ‘annoying best friend’ - an Andrews!Reader fic. 

Can I Kiss You? / Jealous Jughead / Trapped - A series of short fics taken from dialogue prompts and asks, written on my train journey to and from university, some suggestive themes may occur. 

When He See’s Me - A self-indulgent drabble based on the song of the same title from the musical Waitress. You agree to double date with your longtime friend Valerie and her new beau Archie Andrews, and wait - his name is Jughead?!

Trouble - An angsty piece based on the song of the same title by artists Cage the Elephant. OOC!Jughead and AU!Riverdale

BUGHEAD - Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Late -  ‘I was convinced at that time that I loved him, Juggie, but when he told he’d never feel the same way I managed to move on. I could live without the love of Archie Andrews.’ She sighed. ‘But you-’ - Betty laments on her understanding of love. 

A Cinderella Story AU Aesthetics When Betty Cooper was thirteen years old tragedy struck her family, her mother, father and sister were involved in a fatal collision, leaving Betty with only their family house, diner and her memories. Never one to be broken, Betty decided there and then to be their living legacy and set her sights on NYU.  // 1 // 2 // 

Reggie X OC

Perfect - Reggie watches Katie from across the classroom and wonders how he never noticed her before -very fluffy

A Reggie Headcannon/Prompt

For A Boy - A SongFic request for the song of the same title by Raelynn. You’ve always had a turbulent relationship with Reggie, playing it hard-to-get but what about when the fun starts to wear off? 

Ronnie X Reader

Accent - Written from the dialogue prompt ‘you have a sexy accent’.

Archie X Reader

It’s Okay Not To Be Fine - Written from the dialogue prompt ‘if you don’t want to talk about what happened, just say so, don’t lie and pretend you’re fine.’ (Archie X Reader - Platonic)

Music Playlists

Jughead Jones Playlist 

Betty Cooper Playlist

Archie Andrews Playlist

STRANGER THINGS

Steve Harrington X Reader

Not Harrington, Steve - ‘Stop it with that bullshit, Harrington, we aren’t like that anymore!’ Steve all but shouted. You sucked in a sharp breath and held your tongue, this wasn’t going to happen, you were not going to go there. Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / - ON GOING

I Meant Something Like That -  You could feel the ends of your limbs tingle with anticipation, your heart practically beating against your rib cage desperate to escape. Steve let out a low breath and licked at his lips. ‘What are you doing?’ You questioned with a laugh as his head moved in towards yours.

Steve Harrington Aesthetics - Fall // Neon //

Just Right

MASTERLIST

Requested. No. I just really wanted to do something fluffy about Shawn admitting his feelings for you. Kinda sucks but who cares 

Word count: 2,016

Originally posted by t-a-o-t-t


She was so insanely beautiful. The kind of beautiful people write songs about, the kind of beautiful I want to write songs about.

Even when sleeping deeply with her messy hair in a bun. Even with her mascara smashed out under eyes. Even when she laid here in my lap and those cute, little snoring noises slipped out of her unflawed rosy lips.

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suspension of disbelief

@khorazir prompted: The boys watch some episodes of The X-Files together.


 Sherlock looked up from the microscope, blinked. John looked back at him, his face expectant.

 Clearly, he’d been speaking. Clearly, a response of some kind was required.

 "Of course,“ he tried.

 John raised his brows, looked both pleased and surprised. This—this did not bode well. Perhaps he should have asked John to repeat himself, but he did so loathe repetition.

 "Go on, then,” John said. He stepped over towards the fridge, perused the menus with a little frown of concentration.

 Sherlock hesitated. Go on?

 Judging by John’s preoccupation with the menus, he thought perhaps he may have agreed to dinner plans. Except, if that was all, then what was he meant to go on with?

 He stood up from the table, took a cautious step towards the sitting room. John had left the telly on. It was cycling through a DVD menu of some kind, eerie whistling music backed by piano. He frowned, looked back.

 John glanced up from the menus, made a shooing motion with his hand. Ah. It appeared that he’d committed to watching a film or—he paused, looked at the screen—a television series.

 He sighed, aimed a longing glance in the direction of his abandoned microscope, and settled himself on the sofa. He took up a bit more space than entirely necessary.

 The menu looped, started again. Piano. Whistling.

 John paced around the kitchen, phone to his ear, ordering the takeaway. Sherlock glanced at the menus, now rearranged on the front of the fridge. Chinese.

 He looked back at the television. Opened his mouth to speak.

 "I’m betting you missed this entirely, yeah?“ John said, sitting down on the sofa next to him. The cushions dipped, and Sherlock found himself wanting to lean closer, to blame the motion on his shifted balance—but no, best not.

 "Missed–?”

 "The X-Files.“ John said with a nod at the screen. "FBI agents, government conspiracies, aliens…? Kind of a big deal in the 90s. Ringing any bells at all?”

 Sherlock scoffed, looked away. “I had other things on my mind in the 90s.”

 John cleared his throat, looked down.

 The menu continued to loop.

 "Right,“ John said, after a long moment. He reached for the remote. "Food will be here in about twenty minutes.”

 He pressed play.

 *

 "Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?“ asked the man on the screen. He was being altogether too dramatic about the whole thing, in Sherlock’s opinion.

 "Logically, I would have to say no,” his recently-assigned partner countered.

 "Actually—" Sherlock said.

 John picked up the remote, pressed pause. Stared at him.

 "Never mind,“ Sherlock said.

 *

 "Time can’t just disappear,” said the woman on the screen. “It’s a universal invariant.”

 "No it isn’t,“ Sherlock said.

 "Shush,” John said.

 "But she read physics at university, she would know that—"

 "Sherlock,“ John said.

 *

 For some reason, the woman had decided to bathe by candlelight. She had only just begun to disrobe when something frightened her and sent her rushing through the rain into the arms of her male coworker.

 Sherlock sighed, rolled his eyes. Looked back towards the kitchen, where his microscope beckoned.

 "Just watch,” John said, through a mouthful of lo mein.

 The scene did not play out the way he’d expected.

 *

 "Another,“ he said when it was over.

 "What, really?” John’s voice was incredulous.

 He wrestled the remote out of John’s hand.

 *

 "It’s really not that easy to break into a secret government base.“

 "Er,” John said. “Yes, actually, it is. We’ve done it.”

 "We had the proper credentials.“

 "Faked credentials.”

 "Still. It wasn’t as simple as ducking under a chain link fence for God’s sake.“

 John chuckled, leaned back against the sofa cushions. At some point he had migrated closer, his arm warm where it brushed against Sherlock’s.

 "Now he’s gone and gotten himself drugged,” Sherlock protested, looking away. “That didn’t happen to me.”

 "No, it happened to me,“ John said, and swatted at him. "Arsehole.”

 "Another,“ he said, when it was over.

 *

 "I’m expected to believe that this man sleeps in a nest of newspapers and bile and emerges precisely every thirty years to consume five human livers?”

 "It’s not really so much believing as it is suspension of disbelief, yeah?“

 "No,” Sherlock said. “The dichotomy between the two main characters—”

 "Wasn’t talking about them,“ John said. His voice had grown sleepy. "Was talking about us.”

 "What, precisely, are we meant to be suspending disbelief over?“

 "The livers,” John said, gesturing vaguely towards the screen. “The bile.”

 "The lack of a romantic entanglement in spite of the clear attraction and the fact that both main characters clearly have no one else in their lives of similar importance?“

 "That too,” John said. A faint smile flickered on his face.

 *

 "Another.“

 "Sherlock, I need to go to sleep.”

 "Mm,“ Sherlock said, distracted. He slid over on the couch to give John more room. The loss of John’s warm comfortable weight against his side was jarring.

 He reached over, snatched up the throw pillow from the coffee table. Held it up for a moment, weighing his options. He thought about the warmth of John’s arm, pressed against his own, the way his chest rose and fell with each measured breath.

 He set the pillow in his lap. Waited.

 John hesitated for a long moment, studying him, his face difficult to read in the blueish light from the television screen. Then he carefully, slowly arranged himself so that his head was on the pillow, resting on Sherlock’s lap. He held himself quite stiffly, his shoulders tense, his movements unsure.

 "Suspension of disbelief,” Sherlock said. He spoke in a low, quiet voice, dipping his head down. John’s face was very close, in the dark.

 "What, exactly, are you trying to say?“ John asked. His voice was little more than a whisper. He shifted, the leather squeaking under his frame.

 "Lack of romantic entanglement in spite of clear attraction. And—” he stopped, swallowed. Could no longer bear to look at John’s profile in the dark. Turned his head towards the window. “No one else in my life of similar importance.”

 "Clear attraction?“ John asked, his voice sleepy, fond.

 "Well,” Sherlock said, his throat suddenly dry. “Yes?”

 John chuckled, shifted again, rolling over onto his side. He reached up a hand, cupped Sherlock’s cheek.

 He could not say with any certainty who moved in first. But his lips were pressed against John’s, warm and soft and utterly thrilling, sending electric shocks of sensation down his spine. His eyes slipped shut and he sighed, breath puffing against John’s face.

 "All right?“ John asked, quiet, pulling back. He no longer looked drowsy.

 Sherlock stared at him, at his eyes, gleaming bright in the television glow. At his face, expressive and endearing and so very dear to him. How? he wondered, and not for the first time. How had this happened?

 "Sherlock?” John asked again, his voice low, careful. He left his hand cradled against Sherlock’s face.

 Sherlock smiled. “Another,” he said, and leaned in.

Hell of A First Time

Pairing: Castiel x Sam x Dean x Virgin!Reader (no destiel, sastiel,or wincest–sorry!)

Word Count: 4.3k words of SIN

Warnings: it’s a threesome with dean as a voyeur. and the reader’s a virgin. lots of orgasms. and there’s oral. tada!

A/N: this is my first time writing a threesome, so be kind, friends!! feedback is so greatly appreciated!

Originally posted by stayclassysupernatural

You, Sam, Dean and Cas sat around the map table sharing a bottle of whiskey, celebrating another successful hunt. It was nights like these—full of laughter, jokes and telling stories—that you treasured most. Being a hunter pretty much ensured a short-lived life, so you always treasured the small moments of joy spent with your best friends.

Keep reading

‘Parks and Recreation’: Leslie Knope Writes Letter to America Following Donald Trump’s Victory

Dear America,

Amidst the confusion, and despair, and disbelief, it was suggested to me by a very close friend of mine (I won’t say her name, to protect her identity) (Ann. It was Ann) that perhaps a few people would enjoy hearing my thoughts on this election. So I sat down at my computer, cleared my head, and opened a document. Then I started crying. So I had some hot chocolate, and my close friend (Ann) rubbed my back for a while, and I got myself together, and sat down. And started crying. Then more Ann comforting me, and more hot chocolate, and back and forth like that for about six hours or so, the chain of hot-chocolate-and-back-rubs only interrupted briefly when I had to run to the store for more hot chocolate packets (“Just give me all of them, all the boxes,” I remember saying, through tears, to a very scared stockroom boy) and now I am ready to go.

When I was in fourth grade, my teacher Mrs. Kolphner taught us a social studies lesson. The seventeen students in our class were introduced to two fictional candidates: a smart if slightly bookish-looking cartoon tortoise named Greenie, and a cool-looking jaguar named Speedy. Rick Dissellio read a speech from Speedy, in which he promised that if elected he would end school early, have extra recess, and provide endless lunches of chocolate pizzandy. (A local Pawnee delicacy at the time — deep fried pizza where the crust was candy bars.) Then I read a speech from Greenie, who promised to go slow and steady, think about the problems of our school, and try her best to solve them in a way that would benefit the most people. Then Mrs. Kolphner had us vote on who should be Class President.

I think you know where this is going.

Except you don’t, because before we voted, Greg Laresque asked if he could nominate a third candidate, and Mrs. Kolphner said “Sure! The essence of democracy is that everyone—” and Greg cut her off and said “I nominate a T. rex named Dr. Farts who wears sunglasses and plays the saxophone, and his plan is to fart as much as possible and eat all the teachers,” and everyone laughed, and before Mrs. Kolphner could blink, Dr. Farts the T. rex had been elected President of Pawnee Elementary School in a 1984 Reagan-esque landslide, with my one vote for Greenie the Tortoise playing the role of “Minnesota.”

After class I was inconsolable. Once all the other kids left, Mrs. Kolphner came over and put her arm around me. She told me I had done a great job advocating for Greenie the Tortoise. Through tears I remember saying, “How good, exactly?” and she said “Very very good,” and I said, “Good enough to—?” and she sighed and went to her desk to get one of the silver stars she gave out to kids who did a good job on something, and as I tearfully added it to my Silver Star Diary she asked me what upset me the most.

“Greenie was the better candidate,” I said. “Greenie should have won.”

She nodded.

“I suppose that was the point of the lesson,” I said.

“Oh no,” she said. “The point of the lesson is: people are unpredictable, and democracy is insane.”

Winston Churchill once said, “Democracy is the worst form of government, except all those other forms that have been tried.” That is perhaps a pithier and better way to get my point across, than that long anecdote about Mrs. Kolphner. Should I just erase all of that and start with this? Whatever. I’m pot-committed now, and is there extra caffeine in that hot chocolate? Because my head feels like a spaceship. The point is: people making their own decisions is, on balance, better than an autocrat making decisions for them. It’s just that sometimes those decisions are bad, or self-defeating, or maddening, and a day where you get dressed up in your best victory pantsuit and spend an ungodly amount of money decorating your house with American flags and custom-made cardboard-cutouts of suffragettes in anticipation of a glass-ceiling-shattering historical milestone ends with you getting (metaphorically) eaten by a giant farting T. rex.

Like most people, I deal with tragedy by processing the five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. My denial over the election results was intense. My anger was (in Ron’s words) “significant.” My bargaining was short, but creative — I offered my soul and the souls of all of my friends in exchange for 60,000 more votes in Milwaukee, to any demon who cared to accept. (Tom told me it was a terrible deal, but I didn’t care, in that moment.) My depression I have already mentioned. Which brings us to Acceptance.  And here’s what I stand on that:

No. I do not accept it.

I acknowledge that Donald Trump is the President. I understand, intellectually, that he won the election. But I do not accept that our country has descended into the hatred-swirled slop pile that he lives in. I reject out of hand the notion that we have thrown up our hands and succumbed to racism, xenophobia, misogyny, and crypto-fascism. I do not accept that. I reject that. I fight that. Today, and tomorrow, and every day until the next election, I reject and fight that story. I work hard and I form ideas and I meet and talk to other people who feel like me, and we sit down and drink hot chocolate (I have plenty) and we plan. We plan like mofos. We figure out how to fight back, and do good in this infuriating world that constantly wants to bend toward the bad. And we will be kind to each other, and supportive of each other’s ideas, and we will do literally anything but accept this as our fate.

And let me say something to the young girls who are reading this. Hi, girls. On behalf of the grown-ups of America who care about you and your futures, I am awfully sorry about how miserably we screwed this up. We elected a giant farting T. rex who does not like you, or care about you, or think about you, unless he is scanning your bodies with his creepy T. rex eyes, or trying to physically grab you like a toy his daddy got him (or would have, if his daddy had loved him). (Sorry, that was a low blow.) (Actually, not sorry, I’m pissed, and I’m on a roll, so zip it, super-ego!) Our President-Elect is everything you should abhor, and fear, in a male role model. He has spent his life telling you, and girls and women like you, that your lives are valueless except as sexual objects. He has demeaned you, and belittled you, and put you in a little box to be looked at and not heard. It is your job, and the job of girls and women like you, to bust out.

You are going to run this country, and this world, very soon. So you will not listen to this man, or the 75-year-old, doughy-faced, gray-haired nightmare men like him, when they try to tell you where to stand or how to behave or what you can and cannot do with your own bodies, or what you should or should not think with your own minds. You will not be cowed or discouraged by his stream of retrogressive babble. You won’t have time to be cowed, because you will be too busy working and learning and communing with other girls and women like you, and when the time comes you will effortlessly flick away his miserable, petty misogynistic worldview like a fly on your picnic potato salad.

He is the present, sadly, but he is not the future. You are the future. Your strength is a million times his. Your power is a billion times his. We will acknowledge this result, but we will not accept it. We will overcome it, and we will defeat it.

Now find your team, and get to work.

Love,

Leslie

1.5k words of Neil getting flustered daydreaming about Andrew. A little nsfw, and a lot silly. I ended up listening to more than just Charlie XCX’s Boys, but safe to say the rest of the music had the same theme.


Neil isn’t a one-track-mind kind of person, as much as Andrew might suggest otherwise – years on the run taught him to multitask, to prioritize but not overlook anything. Unlike Kevin, even when he’s focused on Exy he can still think about survival, about his friends, his classes, about Andrew.

Well – Could. Usually.

Neil was in class, in a class, in some…sort of class that he definitely can’t currently remember the name of, doodling absentmindedly in his notepad for who knows how long, when there’s a cough above him. His professor is stood above him, looking exasperated, and Neil notices that the rest of the students are pretty much gone; class must have finished without him realizing. The aforementioned professor nods down at his notes with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, at least you weren’t sleeping.” She says, and Neil follows her gaze and realizes that his notepad has maybe two lines of notes, the rest just covered in doodles. The little fox prints and Exy sticks are par for the course, but he flushes and not-so-subtly moves his arm to cover the page to hide the cigarettes and keys and half-drawn profiles that are a little more damning.

Neil mumbles a ‘sorry’ and bolts from the class as quickly as possible, but things only go downhill from there.

Listen. It’s been two weeks since he’s seen Andrew, which is thirteen days too long if he’s honest – Neil has had the luxury of Andrew being in kissing distance almost constantly for the last few years, and now he’s off playing professional Exy and Neil is distracted.

The last time they were together Andrew must have sensed Neil’s desperation and anxiety about their coming separation because he had been heavy and rough, had pressed in close enough that Neil could feel the weight of him all over, always so solid. Then Andrew had slipped his hands under Neil’s thighs and with a harried ‘yes’ mumbled between kisses, lifted Neil fully off the ground, pressing his back up against the door to their room in Columbia and tugging at his legs until they encircled Andrew’s waist.

Neil had gone very very still for a good fifteen seconds while his brain processed what was happening (before coming to the conclusion that he was definitely, absolutely, a hundred percent on board). Andrew had kept still while he did, allowing Neil that time only to press back in close to him, all dense muscle and warm skin, till Neil was pressed up tight against the door, barely able to move but for the unintentional roll of his hips when his body decided that yes, this was very good, more please.

“Yes?” Andrew had asked, one hand coming up to trace Neil’s mouth, still lax in his surprise.

“Yes,” Neil had finally managed to get out, and then, “Yes, Andrew, fuck, yes, yes—”, only to be cut off by Andrew replacing his hand with his mouth, catching Neil’s plush bottom lip, already swollen with kisses, between his teeth as his hand moved down to lightly rest against Neil’s neck.

Which was good, was great, but then Neil had the abrupt and somewhat life changing realization that Andrew was holding him up with one arm. Neil certainly wasn’t keeping himself up.

Neil had pulled back a little, panting, thinking briefly that the light flush across Andrew’s cheeks looked good on him but then, also: oh, and something like wow oh god his arms why haven’t we done this before. And maybe he said that out loud or thought it so hard that Andrew somehow picked up on it, because his expression had gone distinctly knowing and maybe a little smug.  

“You’re drooling.”

“I’m not,” Neil had argued, but his conviction only lasted long enough for him to swipe at his mouth and find Andrew wasn’t lying.

“Are you done? Or am I going to have to give you and my arms some alone time?”

Andrew wasn’t serious, but the sudden flash of images that occupied Neil’s thoughts had him half-tempted to say yes and see what happened. Instead, he’d spent one last moment admiring the stretch of Andrew’s shirt across the top of his biceps, the strain of his muscles as he held Neil in place, the veins and the light freckles and the pale tan lines on his forearms. The contrast between his own darker skin against Andrew’s, the way Neil could feel him flex, feel the shift of solid muscle against him – the implicit power behind it had sent a dizzy rush of warmth to his cheeks, and a low moan threatened in his chest.

Then he had turned fully back to Andrew, and found himself soundly distracted.

Until now. Where, for some reason, his brain couldn’t stop thinking about it. He felt itchy and warm and like he definitely shouldn’t be attempting to captain right now, when Robin and a couple of their freshman recruits were watching him worriedly as he fumbled his second easy shot at the goal in the last ten minutes. He could imagine the unimpressed look on Kevin’s face, the muttering about letting yourself be distracted is idiotic and out gay athletes struggle and I’m perfect so I never think about anything but the game blah blah blah. He could also imagine the face Andrew would make, and the balls he would send in the direction of Kevin’s shins, but then Neil was distracted thinking about the power behind Andrew’s throws and the way his sweat-slick shirt would cling to his body; emphasizing how his shoulder muscles bunched and smoothed out, the hint of skin between his sleeves and his armbands drawing Neil’s eyes like a sunflower to the sun.

Maybe the ‘moth to a flame’ metaphor would be more appropriate because Neil thought he might actually kill himself by walking into traffic or something equally stupid today, and Andrew would have to raise him from the dead just to tell him how idiotic he was. Although if Andrew was digging up his grave for necromantic purposes, that would mean they were at least in touching distance – which was more than could be said currently.


So. Practice went like that, and the rest of the day is more of the same, until Robin stops him from joining the rest of the team for an impromptu movie night and smiles like he’s a dog that’s too old and stupid to bother telling off for peeing on the carpet or humping someone’s leg. He tries not to grimace, facing the embarrassment that comes with her knowing him too well.

“Go and call Andrew. You’re a mess,” was all she had said, but it was enough that he would have flushed to his roots if he had the complexion for it. As it was, he’d just gone very warm and made as swift an exit as he could without outright running.

Listen.

It’s been two weeks and an entire day, which is fourteen too long, and Neil is done. He holes himself up in his bedroom with his back to the door, and bites the proverbial bullet. The phone rings twice before Andrew picks up.

“Neil,” Andrew says by way of answer, and Neil is suddenly thankful that he didn’t call Andrew in public, because his knees almost buckle under him just from hearing his voice.

“Neil?”

“I’m fine!”

“Well, that’s good,” Andrew says slowly, tone moving away from concerned and settling somewhere near to amused. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“No,” Neil replies, suddenly feeling foolish for calling Andrew for no reason other than missing him. God, and it’s only been two weeks.

“How is your new team?” He asks finally, settling on something innocuous to avoid saying something like I can’t get your dumb biceps out of my head I think I might need you to set up a live stream of you on the bench press or I might die. Or any one of the hundred other stupid things he wants to say: I miss you, or I keep thinking about the last time I saw you or I don’t know how I’m going to be able to last a year like this.

“Fine,” Andrew tells him after a moment, “Kevin keeps bugging me to ask how your captaincy is going. I told him he could ask you himself when you get here tomorrow.” It’s a promise and a reminder all in one, but mostly it’s a relief – that Andrew knows him, that he’s only a short flight away, that he isn’t being forgotten. He lets out a slow breath that he feels like he’s been holding all day, his body relaxing the longer he’s on the phone with Andrew.

“I was thinking about the last time we were together,” he blurts after a little while, and curses himself immediately. But then he hears the sound of rustling on the other end of the phone, like Andrew is getting comfortable on a sofa, or his bed.

And then Andrew says, “Oh?” with something like curiosity, and Neil lets himself smile.

-
This now has a sequel :)
Dress (Sugar daddy!Calum smut)

Summary: You wear a dress guaranteed to send Calum up the wall (okay pls I can’t do summaries but it’s sugar daddy and they fuck and ahhHH hot stuff!)

Word Count: 4.8k (SO LONG OH MY GOD)

Warnings: There’s three sections of smut! Yes, three! Also daddy kink and bondage ;)

A/N: Jfc you have no idea how much effort I’ve put into this! I really hope you like it, I think it’s pretty good, if I do say so myself <3

Originally posted by cashtonkinks

For my CEO!5sos blurb night with @felicityash and @pretendtobepunkrock!

Crisp shirts. Sparkling cufflinks. Neat sheets. 

Just some of the many things that spring to mind when you think of him. 

Calum Hood, CEO of Hood Incorporations, hasn’t left your mind ever since you met to discuss a partnership deal. Your father owns a business similar to Calum’s and you, his devoted daughter, handle some of the more day-to-day tasks, including meeting with the extremely attractive business partner.

From the start you knew Calum was different. Maybe it was the elegance in which he operated, the silky smoothness embedded in his voice. 

Or, perhaps, it was the fact that he’d had you spread across his desk within ten minutes of your first encounter. 

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Liveshow (Dan x Reader)

Character: Dan Howell (danisnotonfire)

Fandom: Phandom/Youtubers

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader

Title: Liveshow


A/N: I got this idea from this post, from the @imaginedanandphil blog, which is really good! :D Also, written in Dan’s POV!!


Summary: Dan is in the middle of a liveshow when Y/N randomly decides to be loud on the other room and distracts him. Until she ends up joining him, with unexpected results.


For fuck’s sake. Y/N was being so loud in the other room, she was probably playing a game and having a rage fest because of it. Or fangirling about something. One thing or the other. Maybe even both, something to do with feels.

But since I was in the middle of a liveshow and couldn’t exactly do much at that moment, I resolved to just roll my eyes and grin at the camera with a resigned chuckle.

“Y/N is being so noisy” It was kind of distracting to hear her, even if I tried to focus on the people on the chat. “Rude…”

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