just look at him good gracious

The Arrangement (Part 10: The Gala)

Summary: The gala finally arrives, and Dean is absolutely floored by your dress. An interaction with Samuel leaves Dean fuming, but you calm him down. Dean finally admits his feelings.

Pairing: AU!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,300 (hold onto your hats kids it’s a long one)

Warnings: Language, sexual tension, anxiety, mild smuttiness

A/N: It’s here it’s here it’s here it’s here the gala is finally HERE I’m so excited for you guys to read this part!!! It’s long, so settle in! This part is inspired by the song In Case You Didn’t Know, by Brett Young (ohmygod now I’m so nervous to post this aaaaahhhhh)

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Best Undressed: Josh Dun smut

Y/N: Sorry I fell off the face of the earth. I was super busy and I still kind of am but I’m going to just see where this goes and keep doing requests and stuff whenever I get a chance. Okay love you all xoxo

Anonymous said:
concept: y/n is supposed to have dinner with tyler and jenna but while y/n is trying to get dressed, every time y/n puts something on, josh takes something else off…?

*female reader, smut

Water rushed down against your skin, hair tousled between your fingers, soapy suds sliding down your back, steam rising from the shower, your lips pressed together, eyes closed, humming a soft tune of a song your boyfriend had been caught listening to earlier that day. Warm showers were always something you enjoyed, the way the water glided down your body, messy hair cascading down your shoulders, steamy hot air surrounding you, able to close your eyes and be alone. Although you had enjoyed some pretty amazing shower sessions with your boyfriend Josh in the past, you had to admit that sometimes being alone was just as pleasurable.

As you rinsed yourself off and stepped out of the shower, you looked in the mirror, drawing a smiley face in the foggy glass simply for your own amusement, then snatching a towel and wrapping it around your body. You walked out of the bathroom and stepped into your bedroom, picking up your phone and eyes going wide. “Fuck,” you gasped.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” Josh raised an eyebrow, turning around to reveal his outfit, a fine tuxedo with a tie to match your outfit. “Oh gosh.”

“Yeah,” you gulped nervously. “I’m going to make us so fucking late. In fact, I think we already are. Geez, I am so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Josh reassured.

“Not it’s not,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest. “Dammit I even called to make sure you were already dressed when you came home from work and that I’d be ready for you to pick me up and I just feel-”

“Sweetie, it’s fine. Really,” Josh insisted, sitting on the edge of the bed across from where you were standing, nervously biting your lower lip. “We have dinner with Tyler and Jenna every month. I’m sure being a little late once won’t totally ruin our relationship with them. They’re very forgiving.”

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, closing your eyes tight, cursing yourself over and over in your head. “You don’t understand. Jenna’s been trying to get these reservations for months. It’s one of the fanciest restaurants in town and they’re constantly busy, I can’t believe I’m already running late.”

“Y/n, trust me. It’s going to be okay,” Josh explained.

“Why didn’t you knock on the door and tell me?” you groaned.

“I just got home,” he told you. “I thought you were just in the bathroom or something. I didn’t know you were taking a shower.”

“I’m so screwed,” you muttered under your breath, running a hand through your hair. “Please call Tyler and tell him we’re on our way. I’ve got to get dressed.”

“Babe,” Josh eyed you up and down slowly. “I’m telling you, honest, it’s fine.”

“Shut up and call him,” you insisted, rushing over to your closet and trying to find the dress you had agreed on wearing for over a week now. Your stupid ass ruined everything, and it was something you and Jenna had planned for almost forever, everything down to the smallest detail. You felt like crying, but forced yourself to suck it up, try to clear your mind, forget about it, and instead, use as much time as you had right now to change things and make it right. You were so angry at yourself, knowing you had already fucked everything up. You fumbled for the dress, finally picking the hanger out of the closet and taking a step back when you felt two arms snake around your hips, pulling your back so it was pressed against his chest.

“I think you need to lose the towel, sweetheart,” Josh whispered in your ear.

“I think you need to prioritize,” you narrowed your eyes, turning around and pushing him back.

“I am,” he nodded. “You’ve always been my number one priority.”

“Jenna’s going to be pissed,” you grumbled.

“No she’s not,” he rolled his eyes. You discarded your towel and Josh instantly smirked, eyes gazing at your exposed body. “Besides, we’re already late anyways.”

“Exactly. That means we need to hurry the hell up,” you argued. You paced over to the dresser, tugging it open and bending down to pick up your bra and underwear, Josh raising his eyebrows and eyeing you carefully. “Oh stop it. We don’t have time for this.”

“We always have time for this,” Josh reminded. You glared at him and slid on your panties, watching as he skillfully removed his tie from around his neck, then the suit jacket.

“We’re supposed to be getting dressed,” you snapped, fixing on your bra as he began to unbutton his shirt. “Not undressed.”

“I know,” he shrugged, undoing the last button and tossing the dress shirt across the bed.

“Josh,” you hissed, grabbing your dress and stepping into it, pulling it up towards your body as he unbuckled his pants, unzipping them, slowly sliding them down as you adjusted your dress. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“You tell me,” he winked, kicking off his pants and walking over to you slowly.

“Joshua,” you stated his name more forcefully this time, trying to stay serious and angry. “Put on your goddamn clothes. We’re so fucking late.” It took every particle within your being not to stop and stare at his chest, the way his muscles accentuated his tattoo sleeve, how wonderful he looked, how you just wanted to run your hands down his skin and kiss him all over. No, you couldn’t think about that. You had to get to the restaurant and you needed to do it now.

“Mmm I think I’d rather stay in for the night,” he insisted. “I mean, my clothes are off, I’m kind of comfortable, and you look really lovely in that dress. Kind of makes me want to see what’s underneath again, for a longer period of time than the last maybe. I mean, you did get dressed sort of quick-”

“Goodness gracious, Josh!” you finally lost it, rage boiling up inside of you, fists clenched at your sides. “We plan a dinner for how many weeks and then we can’t even get there on time, much less get dressed? This is ridiculous!”

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” he smiled, managing to somehow look past all the fury overflowing from inside you.

“Shut up,” you maintained your glare, glancing down for a split second to realize he had a hard on before flickering your eyes up to meet his, still trying to fight the temptation.

“Come on baby, you know you want to,” he sighed, slowly moving his hand down his chest to his boxers. He dipped his thumb underneath the fabric, outlining the waistband, slowly moving it lower, exposing his hips. “I’m already hard.”

“Fuck it,” you instantly placed your lips on his, both of you sharing an open mouthed, passionate, desperate kiss. He quickly went to work on the zipper of your dress, tugging down the fabric and picking you up out of it, placing you onto the mattress of the bed and laying down on top of you.

“Shouldn’t have even bothered getting dressed,” he mumbled in between greedy kisses.

“I should’ve known,” you chuckled, kissing him one last time before his lips trailed down your neck, nipping at your skin and gliding his tongue across the pain and replacing it with pleasure, leaving hickeys as he traveled towards your breasts, unhooking your bra and sliding that off of your shoulders before grazing his teeth past one of your nipples, massaging your other breast with his hand.

“So beautiful,” he barely breathed as he placed kisses on your chest.

“Shit,” you gasped, tilting your head back into the pillows as he started to move lower, palms slowly gliding down your stomach, pressing soft kisses to your belly, then your waist, and lower, until his thumbs hooked the waistband of your panties and slid them down. Before you could even say another word his mouth was on your core, licking stripes up and down your folds, making you let out a loud moan. “Holy fuck, Josh.”

“That’s right, y/n,” he mumbled, moving his hand over your entrance and slowly inserting a finger, pumping it in and out, flicking his tongue against your skin. “Say my name.”

“Oh god, Josh,” you moaned even louder, him inserting another finger and picking up the pace, his tongue tracing circles over your clit, making you grab fistfuls of his hair, tugging at it desperately. You were so close to cumming when he pulled away, making you whimper for more, and he licked his lips, smirking as he slowly sucked your fluids off his fingers, remaining eye contact with you the entire time.

“You want this, baby?” he stroked a hand over his clothed cock. “You sure you don’t want to go to the dinner? I mean, if you really insist, I’m pretty sure you were set on going. I’m sure we can just-”

“No,” you shook your head. “Josh, don’t tease me.”

“I don’t know,” he looked away innocently. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s best we just go back, apologize, still try to make it.”

“Shut up,” you demanded, turning him over onto the mattress so you were straddling his hips, tugging down his boxers and sliding them off his ankles, tossing them off of the bed. “I want to fuck you so bad. You keep tempting me, keep teasing me, I can’t take it anymore. I need you.”

“Then do it,” he stared at me, brown eyes intimidating and overwhelming yet so fucking tempting. “If you want it so badly babe, all you need to do is fuck me. Fuck me good and fuck me hard.”

“Whatever you say,” you smirked, carefully taking his dick in your hands and lining him up with your entrance before pushing down, sliding every inch inside of you, gasping and tilting your head up, listening to Josh let out a soft moan.

“Oh fuck y/n,” he bit down on his lower lip. “Ride me, baby. Fuck me so good.”

“You don’t have to say it twice,” you narrowed your eyes, thrusting your hips and pushing him even deeper, moving up and down. His hands gripped your waist, pushing you faster, harder, putting you at an even quicker pace. With every thrust you grew closer, your legs trembling, gasps and moans starting to get harder to restrain. Josh was a mess too, and you could feel from the way his movements began to get sloppy, more desperate, both of you barely hanging on.

“Shit,” he moaned as you both orgasmed, riding out waves of euphoria as you both came, your sweaty and exhausted body soon collapsing on top of his, the two of you trying to regain a steady breath. “Dammit you feel so good, y/n.”

“Totally worth it,” you let out a light chuckle, his arms wrapping around you and placing a soft kiss to your forehead. “What are we going to tell Tyler and Jenna though?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Josh reassured. Just then, his phone rang from the nightstand and you both stared at it. “Maybe I should get it. It’s Tyler after all.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, reaching for it and then handing it to Josh. You were surprised there weren’t any missed phone calls or texts.

“Hey Ty, look I’m so sorry-” Josh began to say but Tyler was already speaking.

“I’m so sorry, look, Jenna and I got a little distracted and I guess we weren’t keeping track of time. We didn’t make it to the reservations, I’m so sorry dude, you must’ve been waiting forever,” Tyler quickly explained. Josh blinked for a few seconds, staring at you and then laughing. “Wait. You’re not mad?”

“It’s kind of a funny story,” Josh stifled a laugh. “Me and y/n never ended up making it either. We sort of had the same predicament you guys did.”

“Ah, I’m not sure it was quite the same,” Tyler insisted with a small chuckle. “I’m sure you both had quite the uh, distraction though, too.”

“Believe me, I did,” Josh grinned. “Anyways, we’ll do dinner some other time I’m guessing?”

“Sure,” Tyler decided. “Anyways, you two enjoy your uh, whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Why? What were you two doing?” Josh raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Watching a movie,” Tyler stuttered.

“You sure it was a movie?” Josh persisted.

“Oh shut up,” Tyler argued, you could practically hear the eye roll from on the other side of the line. “Dinner next week work for you?”

“Yeah,” Josh nodded. “See you later.” He hung up the phone and then set it on the night stand before turning towards you again.

“So, we’ve got the rest of the night to ourselves I assume?” you asked.

“You bet your ass we do,” Josh smiled. “You know what that means?”

“We put our clothes back on like normal people and go out to dinner ourselves?” you raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Josh. I didn’t buy that dress for nothing.”

“You always looked best undressed, sweetheart,” he insisted. “I was thinking something a little different.”

“Then what?” you narrowed your eyes.

“I was thinking we should just stay in for the night,” he winked. “That means we have time for round two.”

elsakey  asked:

Can I just squee with you over two things about Boruto in this episode?! 1) When Cho-Cho was in danger, he didn't even hestiate to go after her first instead of trying to win. Boy didn't even think about looking at the flag! 2) He's such a gracious loser! He didn't throw a fit or try to argue that he lost because they were saving Cho-Cho; nope, he said sorry for putting her in danger, said he accepted their terms, and even complimented them. I love this lil boy so much!!!

MY LIL BABY i’m so proud of him he’s such a good boy!!!!!! 

Hail Mary, Part Two

By popular demand, a wee morning-after follow-up to my original post based on this anon prompt: 

I really liked this earlier Imagine: ‘Imagine in ep 1 they party stops to sleep for a little bit and Claire is freezing, so Jamie offers to warm her discreetly’. Would any mods be willing to continue this story or another alt point-of-view where J & C get closer, more affectionate, more sexual tension in those moments in beginning of book Outlander? Love your fanfic!! You ladies are so creative!

Catch up with Hail Mary PART ONE: 

>> Be warned: this installment is slightly more NSFW -❤️ Mod Bonnie

Part Two 

I was ice and electricity. Every cell, every muscle fiber, every neuron somehow both frozen and exploding with the same insuppressible energy.

A sound of need. Mine? His? Yes, each rising to answer the other in kind. 

Warm arms came suddenly tight around my back, lifting me, then lowering me—maddeningly slowly—down to straddle his broad thighs. Everything was heat. A warm mouth explored mine and I struggled against warm hands that kept my hips confined, keeping me from taking what I wanted. The warm fingers gripped tight even as they dragged upward, skimming under my shift to the narrows of my waist; up still further to thumb—for the barest of tantalizing instants—the tender, yearning underflesh of my breasts. I cried out in distress to feel the mouth—that blazing, devouring mouth—leave mine and a cloud of white obscure my vision. The sound had barely left my throat, though, before it was obliterated by another, a cracking moan of startled, throbbing relief as the mouth began to worship first one nipple, then the other, then the first again. The breathtaking sensations fell through me like whisky in my blood, and my body begged, begged, for more, pleading out a desperate, wordless question over and over in empty thrusts and moans. I gasped as the question was suddenly and forcefully answered, just as wordlessly; gasped at the visceral relief of being filled deep with red-hot iron. We moved together, the heat of his cock stoking and then igniting me, actual flames licking outward from my womb to encircle every inch of me. I wasn’t frightened of them; far from it, for they transformed me into a Fury, all-powerful to consume. Consume I did, riding him hard, and then harder, grinding furiously against the thumb that had the sensitive flesh above our joining glowing like a coal, sending shockwaves of heat up my spine. I began to keen, fast and urgently; then laughed darkly as I heard him begin to do the same under my power. My cries drove him, and his, me; together we roared, rising upward, and upward, and still upward into a seething conflagration of burning skin and breath and pounding blood, until—

I awoke to waves of pleasure rolling through me, my limbs quaking in the aftershocks of a rather spectacular orgasm. I closed my eyes tight at once, and exhaled, trying to savor the fleeting, pulsing sensations for as long as I might: the blood pounding between my legs; the comfort of being held by strong, warm arms; the beautiful, manly smell all around me; the unspeakable joy of being sheltered by the body that had just brought mine to compl—

My eyes snapped open.

Jesus H….

His ruddy forelocks were in his eyes, inches from mine. His head was lolled back slightly against the grain sacks, but even so nearly rested against my own. His arms were tight around me, still… and mine were around him.


I was still trying to catch my breath from the rigors of orgasm and the heated encounter of my dream, and couldn’t tear my eyes away from his mouth. 

Those lips…warm lips….

I supposed it…

…had been….?

Of course it was a dream, idiot. You saw how nervous he was to touch you. He nearly soiled himself when time came to get that sopping shift off. 

Despite everything, I had to stifle a giggle at the memory of him, going suddenly stock-still and screwing his eyes and fists tight, looking unmistakably like a naughty child caught red-handed and steeling himself for a whipping. Thank goodness for Murtagh’s sang-froid; and, for that matter, that I was no fainting ninny! While, granted, I had never before had the experience of being urgently undressed outside the realm of the boudoir, my upbringing with Uncle Lamb—to say nothing of the exigencies of six years as a combat nurse—had trained me not to fret over prudish concerns. No embarrassment to be had over matters of propriety if one dies of hypothermia while quibbling over them.  

No, it had been a dream. How could it be otherwise with those otherworldly flames that had surrounded us during our pounding, burning ecstasy? Besides, as little as I knew about Mr. McTavish’s past, I did think I knew him well enough to surmise that he was not one to seduce a lady in the night, particularly not one he had taken under his protection. 

….but God, I thought, letting my palm feel the curves of pectoral muscle beneath it, the strength of him, “our ecstasy,” my subconscious brain had just called it. It had felt so real, so immediate, so….

Guilt gripped my stomach, violent and indicting, in an attempt to distract from the other, more pleasurable tightenings occurring in my body at the thought. I was a married woman, for Christ’s sake;  and yet, here I was, practically naked by the standards of the eighteenth century, having both spent the night in the arms of a huge, rugged Scot and enjoyed shockingly detailed dreams about having my way with him. 

E n j o y e d.

Yes, I felt guilt. Not for having the dream…but for the undeniable part of my being that wished it hadn’t been a dream at all. Even now, in the faint light of pre-dawn, that great opportunity to dismiss the foolish fancies of night and revert to reality with no questions asked, I couldn’t deny the things I was feeling for him, the sensations that still had my body lit like a candle against his…wanting more. 

I shifted slightly to look more fully up into his face. I started a bit to see his mouth turned up in a smile. Good gracious, had he been watching me the whole time? Seen me staring at him for minutes while trying to get a bloody grip on myself? But no…he was still asleep, eyes closed and breathing steadily. The smile had been just a momentary flicker, it seemed, for his face was impassive once more. The high, elegant cheekbones; the golden stubble breaking out along his jaw; the soft movement of his breath against my forehead as he held me close and warm, even in sleep. 

A sound of tenderness escaped my throat, as I thought thinking back on all the moments Jamie and I had shared, from the first day at the stones, to Leoch, these long days on the road….and last night. 

No, it wasn’t just lust I felt, potent as it was. This man, this fierce warrior, big and strong enough to destroy a man in battle, had cared for me through the night, holding me as carefully and gently as he would a kitten. Despite his hesitation, his evident fear of crossing the boundary of propriety, he had given me the warmth of his body, cradling me to him and chanting soft words over me. He had seen me safe.

My fingers were reaching out as if of their own accord, needing to touch him. “You sweet lad,” I whispered, and I grinned widely to see him smile once more in sleep at the touch, the warm cheek tightening under my fingertips.

Suddenly, though, his eyes flicked open wide and met mine dead-on. My grin fell into an expression of blank shock, and I tried to adopt a casual air as I—bloody goddamn fucking fool, Beauchamp—moved my hand to my scalp to feign an itch that convinced no one. 

He was gracious enough not to call me out on this half-rate pageantry. “Did ye sleep well, Mistress?” he whispered, voice scratchy with sleep, looking down now with an expression of shy eagerness.

“Yes,” I whispered back, tucking my hair nervously back behind my ear, avoiding his eye. “Thank—thank you again, Mr. McTavish…for warming me.”

The whooshing rush of melting ice. A burning tongue tracing up the lines of my neck and hollow of my ear. Our cries rising high and fierce above the roar of the fire.


“And—and you?” I stammered, my voice several notes higher than I’d ever heard it and my cheeks so red I thought he could surely see, even in the dim light. “Did you, erm, sleep well?”

He certainly didn’t look it. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark circles underneath. “Oh—oh aye—” he said, with a faint grin. “Verra pleasur—pleasantly!—to—to be sure.” He blushed furiously and averted his eyes. 

Suddenly the panicked impulse to vomit came over me and I had to clench all the muscles in my body to quiet the screaming alarm bells going off in my head. My own nocturnal experience might have been a dream, and certainly I hadn’t actually ravished Mr. McTavish, but had I done something lewd to him in my sleep while having it? Frank had always said I was inclined to writhe wantonly about in sleep before initiating sex; my body’s own clarion call. Had I—?

Oh. FUCKING. Hell.

Mortified, my cheeks all pins-and-needles from anxiety, I began to jerk free my arm from where it lay pinioned behind his back, mumbling, “I should— gobacktomytent—proper clothes, you know—b-breakfast—”

Before I could extricate myself, though, his hands tightened on me, and he uttered the tiniest of sounds. I surely wouldn’t have heard it, had I not been still pressed against his chest. It was a pitiful kind of noise; a whimper? expressing, in the barest of instants, both protest…and need.  

Slowly, I looked back up into his face. The same emotions were written there, too. “It’s…an hour or more until full dawn,” he said, voice tentative and cracking. “Ye might…stay a while longer, yet…so as not to wake the others?”

I might stay….

I might stay.

Shaking the image of standing stones from my vision, I saw the anxiety rushing across his features at my silence. “Christ, I dinna mean to say—not that—only if ye—”

I laid a hand on his shoulder and he stilled. “I wouldn’t want to wake the others,” I said quietly.

“No…” he breathed, blue eyes clear and alight. 

“And…I am still a bit cold,” I whispered hoarsely. That wasn’t a lie, I told myself belligerently. It was a cold morning. It WAS.

“Well, then…” he said, voice low and deep and resonant against my skin, rippling down all the way to my fingertips. 

Just until dawn, I bargained silently with my conscience.

Slowly, I lowered myself back down to him, resting my cheek against his shoulder. I thought I heard him sigh; in contentment? It was rather hard to tell for sure, for my own sigh—escaping me as I settled back into the warm arms and felt the warm hands pull me subtly closer against him—seemed to drown out out all other concerns. 

God, lad…the things you bloody do to me. 

…my sweet Jamie. 

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Jason Todd Imagine

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

18. “Goodness gracious, you look stunning.”

Requested by:

Warnings: none


Jason couldn’t deny he was nervous.
Bruce invited him to this charity gala, saying that he wanted all of his sons to be there. Normally Jason would have thrown up just thinking about spending a whole evening with Damian, Bruce and Dick, but it was a great opportunity to take you on a nice date and, yes, he also wanted to see Dick, Bruce and Tim’s faces when he’d walk in with you.
He knew that they thought he would never find a girl for something long term, a girl he would take to an event like this to proof it is serious, but there he was, waiting for you.

“I hope you didn’t plan on taking the motorcycle, Jay,” you yelled from the bedroom.
You had just put your dress on as that thought popped up in your mind and actually you already knew the answer.

“Why not–
Goodness gracious, you look stunning!” He said below a breath.
Jason was standing in the door, wide eyes scanned your body which was perfectly hugged by the sparkly black dress. “O….kay, wow,” his eyes met yours. He in fact had never seen you in a dress, or with high heels, perfect make up and done hair.

You closed the space between you and him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You alright?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Your girl can be beautiful if she tries 3 hours.”

“You are always beautiful, (Y/N), but like right now… ultimately beautiful, ” he kissed your nose. “I tell you way too seldom how beautiful you are.
But you are the most stunning being in this universe.”

“Did you say ‘being’ and ‘universe’, because you had something with an alien?”


You two chuckled.

On the way to the car he opened every door for you like the gentleman he was, helping you out of the car as you arrived.
You pulled his bowtie straight and kissed his cheek before you two got inside.
People in expensive clothing were dancing, eating and chatting about unnecessary stuff.

“There,” Jason mentioned to a group of guys and lead you over.

“You actually came,” the youngest which you knew was Damian said. Jason told you more than once what a devil that little boy was.

Dick and Tim turned around, looking at you then to Jason and back to you.

“Dick, Tim, that’s my girlfriend,” he paused. “(Y/N).”

“Hey,” you smiled and waved quickly.

“You never told us you had a girlfriend,” Dick noted still looking at you. “I didn’t expected you to…”

“Well, I do.
You wanna dance, baby?”

You simply nodded and he pulled you on the dance floor.

“Are we just here because you wanted to show me off?” You chuckled, looking at him.

“No… okay maybe a little.”

You rolled your eyes playfully.

Kurt sits up, his customary three pillows cushioned up behind him, his hands clasped in prayer, his lips moving soundlessly. Leaning over the counter in the bathroom, Logan’s engaged in his own nightly ritual of meticulously plucking his eyebrows. Being the Wolverine may have plenty of perks, but all that hair growing back overnight is definitely one of the downsides. And Logan’ll be damned before he goes up against ol’ Buckethead or Arcade with a damn monobrow.

“Hey, elf,” he calls through the open bathroom door, “can I ask you something?”

Evidently not while he’s praying. Kurt doesn’t answer him at first; he finishes up and murmurs, “Amen.” Then he glances across the room at his partner. “Hmm?” he says, looking sleepy, the fur on one side of his face tufted upward. “What, what is it?”

Logan finishes with the tweezers and tosses them back in his toiletries bag. “How does God hear you when you always pray so quiet?” he says, flopping down onto the bed. The old mattress sinks under the added weight.

Kurt rolls his eyes and crosses an ankle over Logan’s, curling into him like a content cat. “Because,” he says, smirking, “He has ears like a wolverine.”

They get into arguments a lot. Over everything. Which kind of ice cream to buy, whose turn it is to take Kitty to dance class, which Danger Room scenario to run, whether Cher was better pre- or post-breakup.

Occasionally when they’re fighting, Logan makes a really dumb comment and Kurt huffs and mumbles, “Mein Gott, you are testing me.”

“You know I don’t like it when you talk to God while I’m having a conversation with you.”

“This is not a conversation,” Kurt says, sharp teeth flashing, puffed up like he’s seriously pissed. “This is not a conversation, Logan, because you refuse to see reason.”

“Oh, I’m the one who refuses to see reason?”

“‘I Got You Babe’ is a classic.”

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Hostage part 5

Pairings: Bucky x reader

Warnings: SMUT, angst, fluff

Music tip: Marilyn Manson (yes, again!) - killing strangers

Originally posted by sebastianstahp

TAGLIST: @-tulipsunflower- @jasmins3 @hoepalace

@sireanscall @winterschildrenn @potterhead7656 @amf71010 @redstarstan @hoepalace @imagination-gb @katiekat1428 @selfproclaimedmess 


(some of you I can’t tag for some reason, I’m sorry!) 

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Brendon Urie x Reader : Crazy in Love

It had been a long day at work, and you felt like you really needed to relax. Maybe your favorite restaurant would help ease you up. You called an old friend, seeing if they would like to come with you, but they didn’t respond, so you decided to go alone. You sat down at a table, ordering a glass of wine and pulling out your phone, sighing when you realized you still haven’t gotten a call back. You picked up the menu, deciding what to order, one of your favorite dishes, and then leaned back in your seat, trying to settle down. It had been a busy day, and it seemed like you wouldn’t get a chance to breathe, but now that you finally found it, you felt exhausted and tired more than anything. You took the last bite of your dish and then pushed the plate away, feeling extremely sleepy and ready to go take a nap at home. “Bill please?” you asked the waiter.

“Oh, actually it’s already paid for,” he replied.

“What?” you raised your eyebrows, wondering what he meant.

“Someone paid for your meal,” he explained.

“Am I allowed to know?” you wondered.

“It’s the young gentleman over there,” he informed, pointing a finger at a guy about your age, sitting alone as well, sipping on his glass of beer. He was handsome, wearing a tux, and you wondered why he would be sitting all by himself.

“He just… paid for my food?” you inquired.

“Yeah, he claimed that you were a friend of his,” he responded. “I don’t know. I thought it was quite considerate.”

“It is,” you nodded. “Do you think I would be able to go speak to him?”

“I think so,” the waiter nodded slowly. “He’s been staring at you a lot.”

“What?” you gasped. “Staring?”

“Yeah. I think he likes you,” the waiter laughed. “But I don’t know. Just a guess.”

“Thanks for telling me,” you smiled. “Wish me luck.” You got up and decided to walk over to the man, and as you got closer you found out how handsome he really was. He had beautiful dark hair, brown eyes, wide lips, and he looked very fine in that suit. You sat across from him, pulling out a seat and sitting in it. He looked up at you, smiling.

“I see you finally came around,” he laughed.

“It was kind of you to pay for my meal,” you remarked. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he grinned. “You look stunning today.”

“Do I know you?” you inquired.

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I know this is my first time seeing you though, because if I had met you before, I know I would’ve remembered.”

“You’re a flirt,” you rolled your eyes.

“No, I’m Brendon Urie,” he corrected.

“Funny too,” you chuckled. “I’m y/f/n y/l/n.”

“Nice to meet you y/n,” Brendon grinned.

“How come you paid for my food?” you wondered.

“What? A kind gentleman can’t preform an act of kindness unless he has a reason?” he questioned.

“Brendon,” you narrowed your eyes.

“Okay, I just wanted to meet you. You seem nice,” he shrugged.

“I seem nice? You just met me, you’ve barely even talked to me,” you laughed. “How do you know me?”

“I don’t,” he reminded. “But I would like to.”

“You’re amusing,” you just chuckled to yourself, looking at his gorgeous brown eyes. “Look, I’d love to stay, but I’m quite tired and I’m afraid I don’t have time for this.”

“Well don’t feel obligated to stay then,” he reassured. “How about you give me your number, and I’ll give you a call tomorrow, and we’ll work out a time then.”

“A time for what?” you questioned.

“Exactly,” he winked.

“What? you shook your head.

"I’ll give you a call, just give me your digits,” he offered. “Trust me, you’re getting the better half of the deal.”

“What do you mean?” you just giggled.

“All you need to do is give me your phone number, and you will get a lovely call from me, along with an invitation on a romantic date, and perhaps some other wonderful opportunities,” he explained.

“Well I can’t say no to that,” you rolled your eyes sarcastically. “I’d be a fool.”

“Exactly,” he agreed.

“I was joking,” you sighed. “Look, you’re a really nice guy, and I’m really glad you paid for my meal, honest. But I’m super tired and I don’t think I’m in the mood for this right now.”

“Then don’t worry,” he told you. “All I’m asking for is your number.”

“My number,” you repeated.

“That’s right,” he sighed.

“Okay,” you complied. You grabbed a napkin and pulled out a pen from your pocket, writing down your name and number for Brendon. “But you can’t call me until tomorrow.”

“I promise,” he reassured. “I’m not going to be an asshole, I’m going to be a gentleman.”

“I hope so,” you laughed. “It was nice meeting you Mr. Urie.”

“And you as well y/n,” he replied. You scooted out from your chair and smiled at him, walking out and looking forward to crashing on the couch at home, able to finally sleep.

When you woke up, you checked your phone, honestly surprised that he hadn’t called you already. Brendon Urie was the only person you could think of last night, and it seemed as if your mind couldn’t stop thinking about him. You got out of bed and took a shower, getting dressed for work and wondering if all of last night had been a dream. Brendon had been extremely nice to you, although he was sometimes cheesy and an absolute ladies’ man, but he had paid for meal and you couldn’t deny that you were actually looking forward to his phone call.

You went to work, sort of saddened that he hadn’t called yet, and when lunch break rolled around, checking your phone was the first thing you did. You scrolled through your notifications and didn’t see any phone calls, and frowned. You had almost lost all hope, when your phone rang and you answered without a second to loose, putting it up to your ear. “Brendon?” you asked hopefully, excited to know he had finally called.

“Uh, no. Who’s Brendon?” a familiar voice responded.

“Oh gosh,” you groaned. It was your friend.

“Hey, I was returning your call from yesterday. What’s up? Who’s this Brendon dude?” they wondered.

“I’ll talk to you later,” you just grumbled, hanging up on them and shoving the phone back in your pocket. You didn’t even care whether you sounded rude or not. You needed to hear his voice again. You missed Brendon so much, even if you just met him yesterday. He was so nice and so funny and everything about him was amazing. Your phone rang again, and you lifted it up to your face half heartedly, almost certain that it was your friend calling you back to annoy you, but when you read the unknown caller ID, your face broke out into a huge smile and you instantly answered the call. “Hello!”

“Hello,” the voice replied. Yup, it was him.

“Is this Brendon?” you wondered.

“You bet,” he responded. “I’m assuming this is y/n.”

“You’re right,” you sighed. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

“Hold up, this is coming from the same person who almost didn’t give me her number yesterday?” he chuckled.

“You’re all I can think about,” you confessed. “I have to see you again.”

“Whoa, whoa. I thought you didn’t even like me,” he told you.

“I thought you were amazing,” you gushed. What were you even saying? It was as if you had no control of your words, everything just spilling out of your mouth all at once, all your thoughts poured out for him to hear.

“So you were playing hard to get yesterday or what?” he wondered.

“Brendon, I don’t care what we do, I just got to see you tonight,” you begged. “I miss you so much.”

“Goodness gracious. Looks like I really must’ve made a good first impression,” he laughed. “When do you get off work?”

“Five hours,” you groaned.

“I’ll see you then,” he decided.

“Where at?” you inquired.

“Same restaurant, I’ll be there with reservations for two,” he explained. “I’ll take it you’ll be there?”

“Absolutely,” you agreed. He just laughed and then hung up, and you stared blankly at your phone, wondering what the hell had just happened. Brendon Urie was driving you crazy, crazy in love.

Harry’s Home

I have so much fluff in me today, help. I literally just wrote this in the text box, so there’s… no editing or thought. It’s a big stream of consciousness (who is avoiding editing? Not me!). x.

Harry likes a party and a good time as much as the next bloke, but what he really likes is going home. He has a few homes now, and a few more where he feels as if he’s at home – he’s got to have that when he moves around as much as he does – but when he says he’s flying back home he means he’s going home to England. 

He likes being in a place where they talk like him even when the accents differ and where he can pay for something without figuring in an exchange rate. He likes saying ta in the shops and he likes hearing football not soccer and seeing the letter U in the word favour, because without it the word just looks incomplete. 

He likes being in a place with roads that are a little older. He likes skulking about and knowing backways and side routes that can get him out of a spot if there’s a throng of people he’d like to avoid for once to keep his day his and his alone. 

He likes going places where he’s still just Harry, and maybe that’s why he likes to take you back to Holmes Chapel so often. It’s always a bit bittersweet for him to go back – he’d hated it there, hadn’t he? That’s why he’d wanted out to begin with, and then he’d gotten his wish. He wouldn’t change a thing, but now sometimes – only sometimes – he misses those sleepy mornings when he would die of boredom and wouldn’t miss a thing if he slept the whole day away. The gratitude and humility of being able to do what he loves quickly overtakes that, but sometimes it’s nice just to exist without an expectation from others or himself. 

He takes you by the bakery where the old women flirt with him and pat his dimply cheeks, and he takes you to a pub for lunch quite often. He’d admitted to you that he hadn’t been sure how you would react, and when you asked him why, he’d just shrugged. 

“S’not like excitin’ or anythin’,” he explained. “No flash or razzle dazzle.” He shakes his spread fingers and your nose scrunches when you laugh. 

“Why’re you laughin’ fo’?” He’s grinning despite his question. 

Still, though, even with his hair tucked securely under a beanie save for a few loose curls, and a nondescript jumper (that happens to be your favorite on him and on you), and even in a town where he is just Harry, he cannot always escape the fact that he is so much more than just Harry to so many people. 

He’s gracious when a fan interrupts your lunch to say hello, and he listens serenely and with all focus on them as they pour their heart out breathlessly. They’re tearing and shaking, but he never looks annoyed or uneasy by the attention or the grandiosity, because although it might sound silly to some, it never does to him and he wants them to feel how grateful he is. If listening to how he’s impacted their lives is even a drop in the bucket for all he has to repay, he’ll do it every time and make sure they know they have all of his love, always. 

He does, however, feel a little antsy about you. Girls he’s dated before have either skittishly kept to themselves or been roped into it. He understands both sides of it, but you’re not exactly famous and this isn’t exactly the quiet lunch that he’d promised you. 

“Can I take a photo of you two?” you ask with a small, encouraging smile. “Would you let me?” you ask the fan and make a motion for the phone in hand. 

They wipe their sniffling nose and offer a choked, “That would be amazing, ohmygosh, thank you so much.” 

“Of course!” You hold the phone up and tap to focus it on their faces and you wave your hand through the air. “Get closer,” you tell your boyfriend. “And don’t blink.”

Harry looks at you and you think you see awe in his eyes, but you blink and he blinks and then he’s moved right along. “’Right then, love,” Harry laughs and he smiles big with his arm tight around the fan. You take a few photos before nodding and handing the camera and Harry shares a few more quiet words with the fan before giving a hug that in hindsight you wish you had caught for them, too. 

When they’ve gone back to their table Harry leans into you. “Thank you,” he says very seriously with green eyes focused like a laser. “I know it can be a bit…” he searches for the right word. “It’s a little surreal when you’re not in it. It can be even when you are, s’just–”

“They were sweet,” you tell him with a shrug of your shoulders. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “They were lovely.”

It’s a little like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it doesn’t. And the next time it happens when you’re in the supermarket it still doesn’t. He gets a little more nervous on the inside each time, expecting some sort of fit at home or a less gracious attitude, but every time when there’s a break you ask to please take a photo for them, and sometimes you take multiples if several of them have phones. Harry smiles just a little wider when you’re with him taking the pictures, and after they’re snapped and phones are pocketed by fans who rush away talking about how nice, and good smelling, and soft he is he looks at you with reverent awe. 

You may not get this, but you embrace it because it is a part of him. There’s no jealousy and little resentment except for when you miss him, but even then you roll with what it means to be Harry Styles’ partner better than some people in his industry could. 

What?!” you ask him incredulously as the pair of you walk under an umbrella after such an encounter one rainy London day. 

“Thank you,” he repeats. “You don’t have to be so open and nice.” Least of all, he thinks, when sometimes they say such rotten things about you. Oh yes, he’s seen the cruel, cutting words and they make him boil until he wants to shake sense and yell, “It isn’t true, you don’t have any idea what you’re saying!” 

“I know I don’t have to be,” you agree. “But why would I be? They love you and I love you, and you love them. You make them so happy and they should get to keep a little of that, don’t you think? ‘All the love’ and all tha–hey!”

Harry’s come to a sharp stop and because your arm is through his you’re yanked to a stop, too. He ducks his head down and impulsively steals a kiss and you stiffen for a moment not because it’s unwelcome but because it’s uncharacteristic. He holds you close a lot, especially against a gaggle of paparazzi, but such other displays of affection are kept private or amongst friends. Now, though, he has to kiss you, because he’s not sure he has words for how important what you’ve said is to him. 

He’s not sure he has words for how much you feel like home. 

[Miraculous Ladybug]: It’s a Match!

one more chapter left after this :)

continuation of my secret santa gift for @neverbetheexpectation​ 

[Chapter 1]  [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

Title: It’s a Match!

Summary: “Oh my God, I just matched with Adrien Agreste, oh my freaking God! Chat!! Chat, come come come! Look look!”

But Chat Noir wasn’t paying her any mind. Because the moment she started screaming about her new match, Chat Noir tried to quickly exit out of his matches page so that he wouldn’t see who popped up. But it was far too late, because right when he blinked, his phone buzzed with an excited message about his new match.

He was not expecting it to be Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Chapter 4: Date

Adrien realized after the first five minutes of their walk that he sort of forgot what you were supposed to do during a date.

He only ever really went on one date. It was with another model from a photoshoot he did a few months back, and it was only because the girl was being so insistent. She decided on every single location they went to, she clung to him throughout the entire evening, was gushing about three dates in the future, and she almost pulled him into a kiss at the end of the date before Adrien ducked away from it and hurried down the block. Nino assured him that’s not how dates were supposed to go — they were supposed to be fun, no-pressure chances to hang out with someone you liked. If kissing and handholding happened to fall into that, then so be it. It all depended on the person.

Sure that sounded reasonable, but Adrien was trying to figure out how romance was supposed to fit into this. Talking wasn’t a problem for the two of them. Thankfully, Marinette and Adrien were at the very least able to keep a light conversation. Adrien was trying to sneak chocolates away from Marinette and Marinette was running up the block away from him and stuffing as many in her cheeks as she could. It was how they always interacted when they hung out with their friends. But this was a date. Was he allowed to hold her hand? Were chocolates too romantic to bring? Not romantic enough? Should he even be trying to be romantic? Was it alright to kiss her? Adrien thought of taking his cue from her, but so far everything felt normal sans the fact that they dressed up a little more than usual and that they had an itinerary for just the two of them. Not that he minded that, but….he wanted this to be just a little different. He wanted it to feel different. He wanted Marinette to notice the difference.

Adrien tried to remember what Nino told him after an enthusiastic Alya had hung up to go rant to Marinette. “Don’t force things, dude. If something’s meant to happen, it’ll happen. Just make sure you both have fun. That’s what matters.”

He took a huge gulp of air. Nino was right. Just show her a good time. Everything else will fall into place.

Keep reading

supacutiepie  asked:

Hi yes imagine person A quietly smoothing person B's hair while they laze in bed for a rare off day nap and is at this moment that person A decides that they want this for the rest of they're life. Possibly followed up with a whispered "good gracious do I love you..." And a sleepy mumbled "love me sho much yoush should marry me" *mumbled into person A''s tum for added effect* and person A goin "yeah I should- hey B you wanna get married?" And now person B is very awake- FIN

listen,,, this is so cute I am going To Die. I can see this with future otayuri with 25yo!Yuri and 28yo!Otabek.

It’s 11 am on a Saturday morning and the sun is already shining through the window, casting shadows along the way.

Usually, Otabek would be back from his morning run by now, heading for a quick shower, while Yuri would be going through his stretching routine on the fluffy rug in the living room. But it’s one of their rare days off together and sleeping in once isn’t going to hurt anyone.

Otabek looks at Yuri’s face smushed against his chest as he continues to lazily run his fingers through the golden locks. Despite having outgrown Otabek by more than half a head, the younger has never grown out of curling up to Otabek and snuggling into his side. Old habits die hard, he supposes.

Yuri’s (now much larger) limbs are slightly crushing him, his hair is everywhere and he is drooling a little on Otabek’s shirt; but Yuri’s body pressed against his radiates warmth, his hair, now illuminated by the morning sun, makes him look even more beautiful, and the drool should be disgusting, but all Otabek can think is ‘cute’.

Otabek realises that if he were to pick a moment to live in forever, it would be this. His hand stops dead in its motions.

“Good gracious, do I love you,” Otabek whispers, barely an exhale.

Yuri stirs in his sleep. “Love me sho much you should marry me…“ he mumbles sleepily as he nuzzles his cheek against the other’s chest.

Otabek’s heart misses a beat. He isn’t sure if Yuri is fully aware of what he just suggested. If he’s even actually awake and not just sleep talking. But Otabek thinks about it for a second. They’ve been together for 7 years now and thinking about spending the rest together, like this, doesn’t sound so bad.

“Yeah, I should– hey Yuri, you wanna get married?”

The other’s eyes fly open and he scrambles to sit up, pushing his hair out of his face to stare at Otabek, suddenly not so asleep anymore.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” Otabek replies gently, reaching out to tuck a stray lock behind his ear. “Do you want to?” He’s surprised to find that his voice is shaky.

“What kind of dumb qu– YES!” Yuri half-yells, jumping on top of his boyfriend. Otabek wonders if Yuri ever realised how big he has gotten as he suppresses a whimper.

Yuri pulls back from the crushing hug to look down at Otabek with sparkling eyes. “That was unromantic as shit, but that’s so you and I love you, so yes. Let’s,” Yuri says, bending down to press a soft kiss to Otabek’s lips. They both can feel the other smile into it.

Yuri pulls back again, just a bit, their foreheads still touching, breaths mingling, and eyes full of love. He’s happy. They’re happy. He smiles even wider.

“Let’s get married.”

anonymous asked:

Allen, Kanda, and Lavi's reaction to their daughter following them around and just generally loving their dad


* he would shower them with so much love you wouldn’t even know it

* he’s always explaining things to his daughter like his daily routine, the rooms in the order, people to stay away from, etc.

* would so totally pick up his daughter at random and just spins them around for the heck of it

* would stay 100000 feet away from the science division if it werent for the fact that his daughter loved the said division

* also shows of his daughter everywhere like hey hi i’m taking (daughter’s name) on a tour today-

* also always makes sure that his kid has something to eat no one is going hungry on his watch-


* is bothered at first

* but he gradually warms up to his own daughter kanda please

* he tries to control his temper more and try to be kinder-ish

* he can’t look at his daughter in the eye because the sheer adoration she held for him would overwhelm him save this man

* also v protective like he would be carrying them in his arms or something if someone talked to them


* is probably giving their daughter a piggy back ride the whole time goodness gracious–

* probably just runs around the order and plays with his daughter why would he do anything else

* if he has to do his job as a bookman, he’d either drop them off at Lenalee’s or let them come with him

* probably sets them up for colouring somewhere nearby so that he can still watch over and bother them if he wants to

* “Dad what’re you reading?” “Hush my dear these are secret,” “but mommy said its bad to keep secrets–”

Silent Torment

Author: @agilitylove

Rating: M (Trigger Warnings: Suicide attempt; mention of drunk driving; attempted rape)

Summary: When Katniss doesn’t think her life can get any worse, someone comes in to save her…

I’m standing at the edge as my mind races. I’ve been at this cliff a hundred times. I came here first with my father when I was little. And after he passed away in that car wreck with the drunk driver, I stayed away for several months. But, eventually, I decided that Prim needed to see it. She needed to understand the importance of this place. What it meant to me and us.

Am I really going to do this? I think to myself. This is the right choice after all. There’s no happiness left here. Nothing I can do to make things better. Prim is grown up and finding her own way in the world. She doesn’t need me here dragging her down. My breath hitches and I feel myself shaking. My heart thuds loudly in my ears and all I hear is the rushing of water below.

“Katniss, please don’t move.” I hear the crunch of leaves under shoes and I already know who it is by the voice. It’s Peeta. I’m sure he knew exactly where to come looking for me when I decided not to show up for our Saturday movie and junk food day. I’m not sure why he’s here. His life would be better without me as well. He’s too good for me. Too kind and gracious and I’m nothing.

Keep reading


From @thefandomimagine || Genre: fluff, hint of romance, humor || Warning: mild cursing || Author’s Note: This fic is a follow-up to “Nocturne,” in which Bones has awakened the reader from a 200-year sleep. A very special thanks to my dear friend @heilith for the Russian translations, and to my friend Veronica for cleaning up my Spanish

Keep reading

I hate Clowns (Part 2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Requested by:

“Can I have a prompt where the reader is friends with the bat fam and has never met Jason until they go against the Joker and the reader says she hates clowns? […]”

Hope you all enjoy Part 2 Part 1

Tell me what you think

Warnings: non I’d say

Note: “(Y/SH/N)” stands for “your superhero name”


Jason pulled you back as you were almost hit by a bullet one of Jokers man fired at you. “Thanks,” you looked at him before you two started fighting back to back.

“We’re a dream team,” he commented as you used him as a springboard to kick the opponent right in the face.

“Indeed,” you agreed. You fired your grappling gun, holding your hand out. He took it and you swung Jason and yourself over to the other side of the hall where Joker, Robin and Batman fought.

Jason landed right in front of Joker.

“Ayyy, my favourite Bird,” he snickered. Jason grabbed him and punched him right in the face. A second, a third time. The anger taking over him.

“Hood.” A soft voice brought him back. He let go of Joker letting him fall to the ground and looked at you.

Policemen stormed into the building and the vigilantes disappeared into the shadows, meeting at a rooftop near by.

“That was not necessary,” Batman told Jason. “Robin!” He called before jumping off the roof, Damian right after him.

“We did a great job,” you told the others.
You hated how Batman could never compliment their work and their efforts.

“At least we have someone who tells us,” Dick kissed your cheek and left, jumping off the building with a flip.

“Hope to see you soon, Hoodie. Bye, Tim,” you said and disappeared as well.

“You co– Okay?” Tim frowned as Jason followed you.

“(Y/SH/N), hold up!” The former Robin called and dumped into you as you so abruptly stopped. “Woah.”

“Ouch,” you held your arm that was now hurting. “You’re hard… well, that sounded wrong,” you blushed and chuckled. Jason laughed.
It felt good to laugh.
He didn’t laugh in a while.

“What’s up?” You tried not to smile, but you couldn’t deny that you hoped he would follow.

“I think we should team up again soon… without masks and costumes at a bar or restaurant… maybe,” he fumbled with his hands nervously.
Usually he stayed away from stuff like this. The last thing any girl needed was Jason Todd, but how could he… you were amazing.

You blinked, “and they always say Dick is the lady’s man. Wow, Hoodie, that was so smooth.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It is,” you smiled. “Well, it’s not that late. Here in one hour?”

“Here in one hour.”

“We have a blind date. I haven’t seen your face and you haven’t seen mine,” you chuckled, walking to the edge of the roof.

“How in gods name am I going to recognize you?” He joked.


You looked around yourself making sure there was no one as you climbed onto the roof.
You were nervous, but you were sure Jason was too that made it better.
You haven’t had a date in a while.

“Holy shit!” slipped out of your mouth the moment you saw him without mask and in normal clothes.

“Goodness gracious,” out of his. You just were staring at each other for a good while.
His eyes were like galaxies; so deep and sparkly it was breathtaking. His hair. His lips. There was no way those lips will stay unkissed tonight even though that usually wasn’t your style.

You inhaled deeply, “I’m (Y/N) by the way.”

“Jason,” he was still staring into your eyes.

“How about we grab some fast food and alcohol, sitting down on a nice roof?” You suggested and he finally snapped out of it.

“That’s perfect,” he nodded, swallowing hard.
You two jumped off the building and you linked your arm with his as you walked down the road. Jason slowly relaxed.

“You and Damian get along very well,” you let go of a sarcastic laugh, looking up at him. He was a good head taller than you.

“How can you not have the urge to kill him?” He said so serious it made you wonder if he tried already. “Can I ask something, (Y/N)?”


“Why do you hate clowns exactly?”

“Oh, well.
I’m not telling you that on the first date,” you smiled not meaning to be mean. “Doesn’t beat your story though.”

“I died. Is there something that could beat my story?” He raised an eyebrows.

“My theory is you’re an angel,” you pursed your lips in thinking. “There is no human being that can have eyes and thighs like yours.”

“You make me blush,” he held the door that lead into the fast food restaurant for you open like a gentleman.


Several hour later, several conversion about everything and nothing at all later, several burst out laughing kind of situations later your fingers were laced with each others as you were walking down the empty street at 4 a.m.
Both your minds were racing in the silence that ruled now. How foolish it was to feel such attractions for each other after meeting just a few hour ago.

“I’ll drive you home.” he insisted.

“With what?”

He pointed to the motorcycle standing in an alley.

You needed a second to answer, “okay, my first thought was ‘can he get any hotter?’ and my second ‘how the fuck did no one steal it?’”

“Hm,” he grinned. “Try.”

You reached out for it and the second you touched it electricity run through your body, making you jump away, “ouch!”

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, burying his face into your shoulder, kissing it tenderly.

“If you drive me home… the probability is high that–”

As your muscles tensed he looked up immediately… right at an asshole in a clown mask.
He had heard about this stupid trend. Stupid people.

He sighed, “fuck off, dude. We both really hate clowns, okay?”

The clown pulled a knife out.

“C'mon,” the vigilante rolled his eyes and pulled out a gun. “I’m warning you once.”

“Wow, wow, chill dude!” The clown raised his hands and ran away.

You took a deep breath, relaxing again. “You brought a gun to our date?” Your hands wrapped around Jason’s neck.

“Hey, we are in Gotham,” he whispered, looking at your lips. You got closer and closer to his face until your lips met his in a passionate kiss.
Your fingers twirling the hair at the back of his head while he brought you even closer. “Romeo and Juliet met and married in two days,” he pulled away, pushing some hair behind your ear.

“You read literature?”

Jason nodded, “Romeo and Juliet is not my favourite work of Shakespeare, though.”

You laid your head on his chest, “yes. Yes, he can get hotter.”



Touches everything. You know how I feel about your dragons already.

How could I not pick Astro and Afterglow. I loved Astro before. You knew that. But Opal just kicks him up to another level. And Afterglow is litterally the perfect companion piece. They are a work of art. I love them.
Atacha is my jam. Her accent peeking through her apparel adding a dash of color here and there. She’s sublime.
Okay. I tired really hard not to pick a dragon that I had done something for, BUT HOLY HELL TREACLE LOOKS GOOD. I’m so happy you got him. And that accent is just perfect on him. and the red against the green is perfect. And Goodness Gracious. That is all.
Dahlia looks so regal, and perfect, and she has these tiny touches of blue that breaks up the red and she’s just really well thought out. I love her too.
SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE. I don’t remember this guy. I go to your lair so often. And he’s not a young dragon. I just.. I guess I skipped over him? Did you change his position? I don’t know but Whenua drew me in as soon as I opened up your lair. He’s gorgeous.

I wanna take all your dragons home with me.

anonymous asked:

How would the 2p's react if they would meet themself as girls? ( sorry fir bad english )

The 2Ps meeting their Nyotalias

2P!America: Wait, what the hell? You look like me?! *checks her out* Wait… you’re probably nothin’ like Porkchop… Heh *throws an arm across her shoulders* I think we’ll get along just fine, Miss Rebel~ *they start taking selfies while holding up inappropriate hand symbols and send them to 1P!America*

2P!China: Hey there cutie~ *tries to flirt with her but then realizes she looks just like him* Hold up, what-? Oh… you’re one of those ‘Nyos’! Funny, I never thought my genderbend would be so fucking adorable… Hey, let’s go annoy Kuro together! *laughs and grabs her hand*

2P!England: *gapes and slaps his hands to his cheeks* Oh my goodness gracious, well aren’t you just a precious little angel sent from heaven above? *fanboys over his Nyo’s frilly pink dress and pigtails* You are too cute!~ Would you like a cup of tea, poppet? Come in come in; we have so much to discuss!

2P!France: You’re kind of creepy-looking… wait, what did you just say? What do you mean I look like that too? *sighs* Guess you’re right… whatever. So… are you gonna leave or…?

2P!Russia: *tilts head* The more the merrier, I suppose. *looks down* I just hope scary Ivan doesn’t have a Nyo as well…

2P!Italy: Tchh… We all know I am the alpha Italy… however, *scans her, slowly grins* You’re so much cuter than Felicia; would you like to come in for a glass of wine? Also, tell me about your ambitions…

2P!Germany: *grins* Yo, I heard you were supposed to be girl-me! *goes in to high five her, pauses with his hand in mid-air* Wait… *smile falls* Why do you look like you’re gonna kill me…?!

2P!Japan: It’s a pleasure to meet you. *bows* …Let’s run the Japanese black market together.

2P!Canada: *grunts* Hey. *waves halfheartedly* Uh… nice Mountie uniform.

2P!Romano: *internal screaming* She’s… you… I… yoU’RE PRETTIER THAN ME?!!!!? *falls to knees, sobbing* Bella you are too beautiful, I can’t handle it–!!! *cries until she helps him up*

2P!Austria: *evil cackle* This is too perfect!~ *gets down on one knee, gently grabs her hand and kisses it* My glorious demented counterpart, may I ask for your partnership in raising hell? Ohohoho, thought so~

2P!Prussia: It-It’s so great to meet you… *smiles softly* You’re really pretty… And you have scars just like me… Wow, and you look so strong. Can I call you my big sister? :’D

anonymous asked:

right ok, so we've got Bucky going all poetic internally and externally about how goddamn fantastic Steph is right? what about the other way around? steph talking to her gal friends back in the 40's about her big brawny beau who takes such good care of her?

“I just don’t know how to ask,” Mary says. “I mean what do you say? How do you say it?” 

“Ask what?” Steph asks. “Mary, can you do me up?” 

This dressing room is cramped as hell, but Steph supposes dives like this aren’t really known for their spaciousness, not even when it’s for the USO. Mary ties the halter of her dress and Steph goes to put on her lipstick. sitting in front of the tiny mirror at the vanity. 

“Mary doesn’t know how to ask her boyfriend to –” 


“C’mon, what?” Steph asks, putting on the red lipstick. She fixes the line with her finger and pats the extra on her cheeks as rouge. 

“It might be too much for your ears,” Laura says. She’s pinning her hair back, and comes over to share Steph’s mirror so she can see better. Their eyes meet. “Oh, Steph,” she sighs. “You’re so beautiful. Maybe it wouldn’t be that shocking.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, boys must’ve been all over you back home, I bet.” 

Stephanie smiles to herself. “Nah.” 

“Don’t be bashful, now,” Laura chides. “You don’t have to be, we’re all friends.” 

“No, I mean it,” Stephanie tells the girls. “Just one guy, really. So look, Mary –” she turns to look at the girl, barely 18. “Really, nothing’s gonna shock me. I’m married.” 


Stephanie shrugs. “I’m married.” 

“You never talk about him!” Laura says, indignant. 

“You are not, where’s your ring?” Adelaide demands.

“What’s he look like?” Mary wonders. 

“What’s his name?” Nora asks.

Steph ducks her head, blushing a little. “His name’s James Buchanan. I call him Buck.” 

Laura sits down next to her, shocked. “Well I’ll be damned. How long you been married?” 

“I was 17, Buck was 18,” Stephanie says. “My ma had to sign off on it. She was sick, getting sicker, and Bucky didn’t want me alone for a whole year if she went fast. If we started livin’ together right away, well, you know. People would still talk, even if they knew about my ma. I wasn’t in real good shape either, I couldn’t work or anything. It made sense.” 

“But you love him, right?” Mary asks, her eyes wide.

Stephanie smiles to herself. “Yeah, Mary,” she says. “He’s my whole life.”

“Is he in the fight?” 

“Yeah,” Steph says. Her throat’s getting tight. “It’s been two years since I’ve seen him.” 

“You got a picture?” 

Stephanie rolls her eyes, grinning, and opens up her compact. She pops up the little false front and shows it to them, Buck in his uniform, so handsome. The girls look and ooh and ah – “He’s just dashing!” Adie cries – and Steph has to swallow so she won’t get sad and says, “So what’s your question, huh? C’mon, Mary, I know nearly everything about everything.” 

“I’ll bet you do,” Laura whistles. “Good gracious, he’s a looker.” 

“I don’t know how to – well,” Mary says, shifting. “Has he ever – does your husband ever kiss you – there?” 

“There?” Stephanie asks. “Well, sure.” 

“Really?” Mary asks, wide-eyed. 

“Yeah,” Steph says. “He loves to.” 

Really?” Mary repeats.

Stephanie shrugs. “I don’t even ask, most times. In fact –” 

“What?” Laura prods.

“You can’t stop now,” Nora says.

“He was on leave for just a couple days once, and the second he got off the boat that was all he wanted to do, I swear to God, I had to pull him off. We barely got out of the apartment.” 

Mary claps her hand over her mouth, giggling. “What’s it like?” she asks. 

“Heaven,” Stephanie says, honest. “Have you ever had sex?” 

“No,” sighs Laura, tragically. “Virgin Mary.” 

“Just foolin’ around,” Mary says. 

“The first time,” Stephanie says, “Ask him to do that before he puts it in you. It depends on how big he is, but it always helps me, and Buck ain’t a small guy, I mean that. It can hurt. You make him treat you good, alright?” 

“Okay,” Mary nods. 

There’s a rap on the door and the stage manager shouts, “Five minutes!” 

Laura turns to face Steph. “He ain’t a small guy?” she whispers, while the girls bustle around them, trying to get everything pinned and lifted before curtain.

Stephanie looks at her, and snaps her compact shut, and grins. “Shut up.” 

“What’re we talking, here? Six inches? Seven? You’re kidding. Eight?” 

“I’m a proper married lady, Laura,” Stephanie sniffs. “Clearly I can’t tell you these things.” 


“You know what I always thought,” Stephanie says primly, “Is that it’s the width that really counts, isn’t it. I mean, how thick it is.” 

“Oh my God,” Laura blushes. 

Partners: Harry x Reader

Request: Hi! Can I request a Harry x reader where they both work together as aurors but they act like they hate each other when they really like each other and Ron and Hermione see this (they know) so they plot to get them together so they trap them in a room and Harry and the reader talk and their true feelings come out that they like each other and can it be super fluffy? Thank you and I can’t wait for your Harry stories!!!

Warnings: none :)


naturally when I picture professional, badass women, I picture Chloe Bennet

Originally posted by ungifable

I pause outside of the door, my fist freezing mid-air before it connects with the wooden barrier. I could turn around, and go back to my office. Wait for them to threaten me. Like they could do anything, right? Aside from fire me, but they wouldn’t do that… not when so many of us had just been killed in the war. No, I can’t let my mind go there right now. They need as many aurors they can get. I take a deep breath and raise my fist back up, knocking three times on the dark wood.

“Enter,” I hear a deep voice say from the other side. I turn the doorknob and enter the large office. “Ah, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

“Good afternoon, Minister,” I respond, closing the door behind me.

He smiles at me, and says, “You’re perfectly welcome to call me Kingsley, if you’d like. I’m only Minister when acting as Minister. For the purposes of now, I’m Head of Magical Law Enforcement.”

I force a small smile in response. He sighs, and sits in the large chair behind his desk, gesturing to another across from him for me. I reluctantly walk forward, and sit in the chair, smoothing my skirt behind me.

“You know why I’ve asked you here, yes?” he asks. I nod, and the memories from the war come flooding back… I was still new to the auror office, only been there a year myself. And every new auror has a partner, especially ones as young as I am. My partner–my best friend–had been killed in the war. A stray “Avada Kedavra” from Bellatrix Lestrange herself, meant for someone else, had hit him square in the back. I feel my throat start to close up thinking about it, and I snap back to attention on the Minister–or.. whatever.

“I assume you have someone in mind, then?” I ask, a little too sassily, and I instantly regret it. But Kingsley smirks slightly, despite my attitude.

“I do,” he says, and he passes a file across his desk. A… a rather thick file. Great. Not only were they forcing a new partner on me, it was going to be someone with one hundred times the experience. An insufferable know-it-all, constantly telling me what I’m doing wrong. I knit my eyebrows together, and reach for the file, flipping open the top cover. My jaw drops when I read the name and look at the accompanying picture. I glance back up at my boss, who’s now smirking at me.

“Since when is he an auror?”

“Since this morning. Passed all of his tests with flying colors.” He’s grinning now, clearly proud of his new recruitment. But I don’t smile back. And his grin falters. “I don’t expect enthusiasm, (Y/N), but I do expect you to be welcoming.”

I nod. “Why me? Why not give him to someone… more experienced?”

Kingsley chuckles emptily. “After this war, are any of us inexperienced? I believe you two will be a good fit.”

“What about his friend?” I ask, remembering the red haired boy always hanging around him.

“Mr. Weasley has not completed his training quite yet.” I nod again. Goodness gracious, why can’t I just look him in the eye? I force myself to, and see nothing but kindness reflected in his face. I sigh, helping myself to relax a bit.

“Alright,” I say, “When does he start?”

Kingsley smiles in a I-knew-I-could-count-on-you sort of way, and responds “Tomorrow.”

“Well, then.” I stand up out of my chair, smoothing my skirt again with one hand, and taking the file in the other, waving it slightly, I say, “I guess I better get reading up on the Boy Who Lived.”

It had been almost a year since Harry had become my partner. I’d have to be lying to say he wasn’t a good one, because there was no doubt about that. He was an excellent and natural auror, especially for one so young. But to say that he drove me crazy was an understatement.

I expected that once his friend got through training, he’d be reassigned and they’d be partners instead. After all, I’m 20 now, it’s not like I’m some teenager who still needs a partner. But no. It turns out, Hermione Granger is also an auror now, and she and Ron were automatically assigned as partners, being engaged and all. So I was stuck with the golden boy.

“You don’t get it guys, the girl is crazy,” Harry whisper-yelled, leaning against the doorframe of Ron and Hermione’s joint office. The two shared a look, Hermione smirking slightly, before turning back to her paperwork.

“Yeah? How’s that, mate?” Ron asked, perching his chin on his fist.

Harry froze, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Well, she–she’s always wearing heels. And she works constantly.”

Hermione looked back up at him, tilting her head with an eyebrow raised, before turning to her fiancee. “Is that what makes a girl crazy, Ronald?”

Ron grinned at her, “Absolutely not, darling.” He then turned back to his best friend. “Honestly, mate it could be worse. You could’ve gotten stuck with McLaggen.”

Harry shuddered at the thought and turned his head at the sound of clacking heels against the tile floor, only to see (Y/N) coming down the hall carrying a small stack of files and headed toward the very doorway he was leaning against.

“Oh bloody–she’s coming this way,” he says, standing up straight, and re-buttoning his blazer. Hermione giggled and shook her head, looking back down at her paperwork.

(Y/N) appeared in the doorway only moments later, and turned to Harry, a slightly bemused look on her face. “Thought I’d find you here. Lucky.” She turned to face the other two as well. “Looks like the four of us have an assignment together,” she said, passing a file to each of the others.

Hermione, took hers and flipped it open, “Merlin’s beard, an actual arrest. Haven’t gotten one of those in a while.”

“Why all four of us?” Harry asked, cocking an eyebrow at the girl in front of him. (Y/N) shot him a look of annoyance, and turned to face him.

“Kingsley’s worried some others may be hiding out at his place,” she explained. “He wants us ready in an hour.”

She turned to leave, only to realize Harry wasn’t following, and she turned back to look at him, an eyebrow cocked. “You coming?”

“In a bit,” he replied. She nodded, and turned sharply, hair flipping behind her, and stalked off, and Harry found himself watching her as she walked away. This did not go unnoticed by his two friends, who were smiling knowingly at each other.

“Bonkers, right?” Harry said, turning back to the other two.

“Whatever you say, mate.”

“Bloody hell, this is not happening,” (Y/N) said, pacing the cellar. A light scoff came from the darkness to her left, and she turned to face the source. “What? Does this happen to you often? Getting trapped in cellars where apparating is impossible?”

“Honestly, I didn’t know there was another cellar like this outside Malfoy Manor,” Harry said, shrugging, his hands in his pockets, and leaning against the bars.

“How can you be so casual about this?!” she whisper-yelled, running a hand through her hair in agitation. He rolled his eyes, and then locked them back on her. “There’s got to be another way out of here.”

“Would you stop pacing, please?” he asked in an exasperated tone. She glared at him.

“You know, maybe if you’d actually be some help, we’d get out of here sooner,” she snapped back. “Or maybe you just enjoy being trapped in a cellar with me?”

“I can think of worse company,” he replied quietly, rolling his eyes again, and she froze, not sure she heard him correctly.

“Come again?”

He sighed and turned to her, pushing off of the bars, and not quite making eye contact. She could see him fidgeting slightly in the dark. “I know losing him was hard for you. Trust me, I know.”

She felt her heart ache at the mention of her old partner, and her eyes began to sting as tears formed and blurred her vision. She crossed her arms in front of her–her way of protecting herself from the memories.

“But neither of us could have asked for a better partner. He was really lucky to have you while he was here.”

A small smile formed on her lips. “Thank you, Har–”

“I’m not done quite yet,” he said, cutting her off. “Just let me say this, alright?”

She froze yet again, and then nodded slowly.

“I know it was hard for you to be assigned a new partner. And I wish they’d’ve given you more time. But, selfishly, I’m glad they didn’t.” He finally looked up into her (y/e/c) eyes, and seeing them staring back at him made let out a light chuckle, and he shook his head. “This is going to sound ridiculous. But it can’t sound more ridiculous than I feel right now, so what the hell, right?”

She took a forward, a sudden impulse to be closer to him washing over her. “Go on, then,” she whispered.

A small smirk spread on his face as he looked back up at her. “I’ve been falling for you since my first day, (Y/N),” he confessed, finally locking eyes with her, and not taking them away again. She felt herself inching towards him, and noticed that he was too. They were only a couple of feet away from each other now.

“You have?” she asked, stepping even closer to him and slowly unfolding her arms.

The grin began to grow on his face. “I have,” he replied. Several inches of space were all that was left.

“Well, then,” she said, her eyes flickering down to his lips momentarily. She slowly reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, and pulled him in gently to close the remaining distance.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her against him, as he leaned forward, connecting his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. His other hand found the back of her neck, and he applied a little bit of pressure, deepening the kiss ever so slightly.

“Oh, finally!” Harry and (Y/N) sprang apart, and looked through the barred door to see Hermione and Ron at the top of the stone stairs and smirking down at them. “It’s about bloody time.”