like how on jesus christ can he makes such a face

Sheriff Knows Best

Stiles/Derek, G, 2K words, Sheriff POV, Coffeeshop AU, matchmaker!Sheriff

(Credit for the title to @cobrilee!)

This is an expansion of the following idea, written by the lovely @artemis69:

the coffee!AU, where John goes to the same coffee shop every day, and there is this very grumpy, quiet barista that always makes him amazing coffee and keep the best pastries for him. And one day the Sheriff learns that Derek is the one to bake them all, so he decides: this will be my son in law, I need a reason to have this man in my family for at least forty to fifty years. Then he matchmakes with no subtility whatsoever, basically offering his only son on a silver plate, Stiles spluttering all the way (but he takes Derek’s number anyway because the guy is just amazingly cute)

John’s on his regular morning stroll when he stops in his tracks and takes in the brand-new coffee shop, complete with a banner advertising their opening day. The little corner space has been boarded up for over a year, and John had no idea it was opening today.

Any new businesses are a boon for Beacon Hills, especially family-run ones like this one is rumored to be, so John ducks inside. It’s warm and homey, and there’s a pair of young dark-haired people behind the counter, close enough in features that they’re probably siblings. The quiet bickering points that direction, too.

They stop, though, when they see the Sheriff—the uniform tends to have that effect—and he pastes on his public servant smile. “Hi there. I saw this place was open and wanted to come on in and introduce myself. Sheriff John Stilinski.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” the woman says, holding out her hand for a shake. A nice strong grip—John likes this girl already. “I’m Laura Hale, and I own this place with my brother Derek, our resident grumpy barista-slash-baker.”

Derek rolls his eyes at Laura, but his smile to John is genuine, if small. “Hi, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, son,” he says, perusing the case full of tempting sugary treats. “You made these?”

He nods. “Can I get you anything?”

John hums. “A medium coffee, and…any one of these delicious-looking goodies. You pick. Just don’t tell my son,” he adds, and Derek looks up at him.

“Your son?”

“I have slightly elevated cholesterol,” he says, stressing the word. “Nothing to worry about, honestly. But he polices my diet. I don’t think he knows about this place yet, though, so this is great.”

Derek hums. His tongs hover over a muffin—lemon poppyseed, it looks like—before moving to another one. Raspberry-almond, according to the sign, and well, John isn’t picky. Derek drops it into a little bag and hands it over.

“Happy to help,” he says.

John thanks him and opens the bag. Laura’s still pouring his coffee, but it smells so damn good that he can’t resist.

“Wow,” he says, his mouth full. “This is delicious.”

Derek looks quietly proud, and Laura claps him on the shoulder as she reaches over to hand John his coffee. “On the house, today, Sheriff,” she says. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.


“Thanks, Nina,” John says dryly, leaning back so she can put his plate in front of him.

“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” she says with a friendly smile, ignoring his stink eye.

Stiles just grins at both of them and digs into his French toast. He insists on having their weekly father-son breakfast at Paulie’s Diner because no matter what John orders, Nina will only bring him an egg-white omelet with a dry English muffin. Stiles must have some serious blackmail or be paying her off somehow, and John is, he has to admit, grudgingly impressed.

“Don’t look so bummed out, Pops,” Stiles says, around a mouthful of what’s surely syrup-drenched deliciousness. “At least I let you have turkey bacon.”

“It’s not the same,” he says grumpily, poking at it. “But at least I’m getting a steady stream of baked goods now.”

Stiles glares at him. “Are you serious? From where? I thought I had paid everyone off.”

He knew it. “I’m not telling you,” he says, a little displeased with how childish he sounds.

“Fine,” Stiles says, sniffing. “I’ll figure it out, you know I will.”

He will, John knows. Goddamn, he loves his kid, even if his life goal seems to be depriving John from any and all delicious food. “And speaking of, I met someone the other day,” he starts, and Stiles gasps theatrically, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Is this you crapping all over my dream of having Melissa as my stepmom?”

John sighs at the reminder. Melissa is…well, she seems happy with that Argent guy. Whatever. He’s not bitter.

“Not for me, Jesus,” he says, shaking his head. “For you.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, slumping back in the booth. “Eye roll” is too mild, John thinks. It’s more of a whole head roll. “Seriously, Dad, I’m only 25. You don’t have to marry me off quite yet. You’ll get your grandchildren someday, I promise. Stop trying to set me up with people.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful!” John protests. “He seems nice.”

And makes really good treats, he adds in his head. That’ll be a good trait for a son-in-law.

“And who exactly is he?”

John pauses. “I met him at the aforementioned undisclosed location.” 

Stiles snorts. “Find out if he actually likes dudes, then get back to me.”

“Okay,” he says seriously, and Stiles grimaces.

“No, Dad, don’t actually—”

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DOCTOR DREAMY | PT.2 [M]

pt1 | pt2 | (ongoing)

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: smut, fluff, slight angst + expecting parents au

word count: 11,035

request: sperm donor ex-boyfriend jimin

description: Okay, maybe in hindsight asking your ex-boyfriend, who you never really got over, to be your sperm-donor wasn’t the brightest of ideas.

cr. 


six years prior.

“Do you wanna have kids one day?”

Jimin tilted his head as if to ponder the idea before tugging you across the bed until you were leaning against his chest, curious eyes catching your own.  

“Sure, I mean one day. One day, far, far away,” He said, pointing his finger off into the distance jokingly.

You laughed, hand skimming along the back of his neck. “Yeah, me too.”

“Any particular reason why you’re asking?” He said as he began playing with the strands of your hair.

“I dunno,” You shrugged. “We’ve been dating for a long time, just thought that it’s something we should know about each other.”

Jimin nodded, “No, you’re right. It’s kind of something you should figure out before things get too far in the relationship… Guess we waited a bit too long, but we’re on the same page, so that’s good,” He smiled, leaning down to place a short peck against your lips.

“So that means you think that information will be put to good use one day?” You asked, quirking your brow to insinuate.

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Truth or Truth

Requested anonymously: A one shot where the reader has never been able to orgasm through masturbation. When Dean finds out, he offers to help.

Warning: smut, masturbation

Word Count: 2300

A/N: Hope you enjoy, anon! XOXO

“Truth or truth?” Dean asks, grinning a little sideways in that way that lets you know he’s just the right amount of drunk.

Truth or truth is the game you play when you’re both feeling a little wound up, needing to blow off some steam. You’re too old for stupid dares and too nervous for dares that might actually make you touch each other, so you settle for sticking to truths. It never amounts to anything, but you both enjoy the sexy words said in the dark as you lie together on one bed, a bottle being passed between you, like you have a life and a personality outside of monsters.

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a friend like mine

 Summary: A discussion about a break up leads to….interesting revelations. || Sebastian x Reader || part 1 of 2

Warnings: discussion of kinks, [in the second part] —> smut and all that entails, thigh riding, choking, some other stuff but i’ll put it in the warnings for the next one

Note: :))))

Originally posted by buckynsebimagines

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my alpha.

Originally posted by semejohn

pairing: derek hale x reader

warnings: SMUT, swearing, dirty talk, NSFW GIFS. porn without a plot, basically.

prompt: going into heat while living in the loft with derek being the only available alpha. 

the cold loft was deserted as you laid in the middle of your bed, beads of sweat ran down your sore skin and your breathing was coming out harder than usual. you’d turned down the AC as soon as you’d woken up, the icy air doing very little to calm your raging hot skin. you had lived with derek and issac in the loft for 6 months after being turned by scott and having no where else to go; at first you thought of yourself as an inconvenience yet derek and issac constantly reassured you that you weren’t. al though they had said it many times, you still didn’t bother them with any of your problems and tried to keep to yourself in your room.

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His Mind Created the Perfect Metaphor

Dear BBC Sherlock community,

Ever since Sherlock series 4 came out, collectively we were like “what the HELL is this?!?! This doesn’t make any sense!” BUT after many months of tossing ideas around the fandom, we have made theories that could explain the weirdness, but nothing we can all agree on. Now, this meta here may be absolute garbage to you, but I believe, in my heart of hearts, I’ve solved it. Please read it in its entirety with an open mind before you reblog it just to tell me I suck.

Thanks in advance, you da best

Paige


Here’s the short version: Sherlock actually jumped at the end of The Reichenbach Fall, just as Doyle intended him to die. Gatiss and Moffat said they are correcting something in this adaptation that no one else has gotten right before. Many of us assumed the homosexual romance was the one thing they were changing, but we were punched in the face right after The Final Problem came out.  Gatiss and Moffat are changing the sacrifice. Holmes was intended to die for his friends but Doyle needed more money and rewrote the series after “The Final Problem”. That turned Holmes’ sacrifice into a cruel joke against Watson. This is what BBC Sherlock is fixing, and we’re about to see it come to fruition.

I know many theorists despise the homosexual reading of Holmes and Watson, while many people in general despise theorists on this site. That’s fine, I don’t care how people feel about gay theories and/or TJLC and its followers.  But I’m here to tell you TJLC, at its core as a concept, was right. You may hate Moffat and Gatiss, you may think Sherlock is a piece of shit show, and that’s fine, you do you. But hear this one meta out, please. I think even the hardest skeptic can at least apprectiate the thought and logic behind this.

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Out of the Blue 03

Rated: M

Warnings: Explicit vulgar hybrid smut, knotting, dirty talk.

Summary: Jungkook has only ever thought of his breeding clients as just that - clients, and he’s always quite indifferent to them since he only ever knows them for a short period of time. But then you come along, and he starts experiencing feelings that aren’t being manipulated by your heat. Real feelings, that he has never harbored before with anyone else.

Notes: finally part 3 is here!! this one was really tricky. i edited it so much in terms of adding parts, then turning around and taking them back out and just completely removing an entire scene and replacing it with something that flowed better. ugh. i have mixed feelings on this, but it is what it is lmfao i mean all it is is smut so i guess it really doesnt matter. enjoys babes <3

Words: 6.3k

01 | 02 | 03


It was odd, Namjoon thought, at how comfortable you and Jungkook seemed to be around each other, having only known each other for a little over a day. He couldn’t even begin wrap his head around the way ‘natural instincts’ and 'pheromones’ worked between you two, but then again, he was merely just a human. Last night was weird and he couldn’t exactly say he liked it, as he slept alone again for the first time in a very long while, having to keep himself warm without you there being his little heater. 

The first night here was hard, but there was something about last night that was almost unbearable. 

He got little sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and how you were dealing with sleeping without him these past two nights since you had never done so before, but then he realized you were probably perfectly fine - curled up beside Jungkook, sleeping peacefully with the other’s arms tightly around you. His arms were probably so tight because he was probably afraid someone would try to take you away from him in the middle of the night while you two slept.

Well, that was if you even got any sleep, did your fevers subside long enough for you to get some shut-eye? Or were you two at it all night?

Namjoon shook his head in mild disgust, trying to clear his mind of the unwanted images that started popping up and he looked out of the window, down at the pool where you and Jungkook were playing in the water together. He watched on, a strange sort of jealousy planted in his chest. Could he really not even get one moment alone with you? He just didn’t quite know how to cope with that - didn’t understand how Jungkook could be that possessive.

But again, he was just a human. How could he possibly understand?

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He tries to make you jealous (Zach Dempsey)

shit, so i’ve been in love with thirteen reasons why recently. it’s got me hooked. zach dempsey has been one of my crushes on the show, so here’s one based on this prompt. i’d love taking suggestions! ring me up if you have any ideas- or, better yet, drop by my ask if you want me to make any more for you.

prompt: “i like you a lot, so i tried getting you jealous,” ft. zachary dempsey

Originally posted by pitterpratter


“Ah shit, Y/N,” Jess Davis groans as she wiggles into the tight row of cushioned chairs, trying to make her way to the middle of the line next to you. You giggle as the popcorn spills all around her clenched hand and into the laps of everyone nearby. There are whimpers of “Sorry, sorry!” and grunts before she finally lands into the cushioned chair next to you and sighs. “Ah Jesus, I didn’t know that would be so hard.”

"Maybe you should lay off the gummy worms,” You put in, and laugh as she glares at you and hits your arm. Your hand digs in the popcorn and you stuff a handful into your mouth, the satisfying crunch as you chew making you moan. Ah, popcorn. Jess rips open a pack of the gummies and snorts at you. “Maybe save those noises for Dempsey, hon.”

You choke on a kernel as she purses her lips trying not to laugh, her eyes steadying on the previews onscreen. A few snickers make it out either way, and you scowl at her and stuff more handfuls in your mouth.

Zach Dempsey and you, to put it lightly, were not friends. It was difficult to push you into a room together and not expect a night of sour jabs and endless bickering. Everyone at school knew it, and it was something that happened way before you were even freshmen. There was never a time you weren’t at each other’s throats. One time, he’d spilled liquor down the front of your dress at some party and you’d hidden his pants in a bush while he was in the hot tub later that night. Lately it’d been more of a joke between your friends, with Jessica mockingly swooning how romantic you two would be. 

The lights start to dim and you wiggle back into your seat, ready for some good old romcom- and then the Paramount clip cuts into black for a moment, making you groan and try to dodge whoever was blocking your view. You crane your entire body and glare daggers at the idiot who interrupted your film before it even started. You loved your movies, and you were pretty serious about getting the “full movie theatre experience” (which Jess liked to mock). Please, you were paying a good four dollars for a movie you could watch for free online. Your eyes rise up to the back of his head, taking in a mess of straight black hair, broad shoulders and the school’s infamous Letterman jacket hanging on them. You memorized the back of that head. You knew those shoulders.

It was Zach Dempsey. With him were Jason Friar and Justin Foley, all wearing their Lettermans. You felt Jess shift in her seat at the sight of them. Wrapped in Zach’s arm was a smaller girl, snuggled into his shirt and playing with his fingers around her neck. They scooched into the seats almost directly in front of you, with the girl turning her head suddenly and getting the tips of her ponytail in Zach’s mouth. He swats it away, annoyed, but smiles instantly when she turns her head to look at him.

“Oh no,” You moan, making Jess snicker at you. You don’t miss the way her eyes flicker to Foley and turn away. “Just what I needed.”

"Who’s the girl?” Jess wonders, squinting. “Not a cheerleader. That’s Jenny, I think. Or her friend Bryana. I can’t be sure. We have Com with them.”

"Ugh, who cares,” You roll your eyes and try to turn to the movie. As long as they don’t ruin your film. This was some good stuff showing- if you focused enough, maybe you could ignore them. Jess shrugs and follows suit. You take a sip of your cherry cola as Martin Freeman jogs up into the scene.

The movie drifts by, but you find that you don’t enjoy it as much as you would have. Your eyes keep landing on the back of Dempsey’s head- and as much as you hated it, his arm around the girl’s. Your popcorn started tasting sour. You focus on some surfer guy’s abs an hour in but your mind keeps drifting somewhere else. Suddenly, before you can even blink, Zach cranes his neck slowly and looks directly at you, as if he knew you were there the entire time. He catches you looking and his cheeks tinge pink as he whips back around. Jess snickers. “That’s like, the fourth time he’s done that.”

"What?” You blink. Wouldn’t you have noticed? Jess takes a slurp of her drink. “Yeah, didn’t you notice? I mean, he’s had like two bathroom breaks. Both times he’d looked right at you before he took his seat.”

You decide not to say anything and reach out for a gummy worm. You keep watch, but Zach never craned his head again.

The movie ends before you know it, and Jess is a mess. You can’t stop laughing at her state, and after a while she laughs with you and dabs at her tears with paper napkins, but her mascara’s everywhere. “Shit, Y/N, why aren’t you crying with me?” She scowls, and starts hicupping. You try to hide your smile. You find it best not to tell her that you were staring at other things than the movie.

The lights flick back on and the people file out. You grab your empty popcorn buckets and leave, but not before Jess excuses herself to the comfort room to freshen up. You drop the buckets in the trash can near the snacks counter in the lobby and wait for her, waving a hand at Hannah Baker, who was filling up drinks at the soda fountain. Your hand travels to your back pocket and realize your phone is missing, so you run back into the cinema’s swinging doors hoping not to find it lodged in between seats with a wad of chewed up gum.

You find something even more tramautizing. Sitting on Zach Dempsey’s lap was his date, clutching his face with her pale hands and making out with him. He’s fidgeting in his seat, but trying to keep still. You note that his hands are on the cup holders and not on her waist. Your face screws up and you groan in disgust, picking your phone up from floor. “Christ, Dempsey, get a room.”

Zach’s eyes widen and he scrambles up, pushing the girl out of his lap. “Yeah? Well, this was an empty room ‘til you showed up, Y/N.”

You snort, tucking your phone into your back pocket. “You’re a pig, Dempsey.” There are mumbles of "Ooh”’s from Foley as you stalk back to the entrance, where Jess was waiting for you, ready for some milkshakes at Rosie’s. You loop your arm in hers, failing to hear the “Shit, man,” and swears from inside the theatre.

-

You head into school next Monday with a great start, munching on your bagel as you make it to your locker. You’re wearing an oversized hoodie and high waisted jeans, but it doesn’t stop the jocks from whistling when you pass by. You roll your eyes at them and chew on your bagel as you turn the corner. High school boys were too immature. No wonder you never found the want to date one.

Passing by you in the hallway was Zach Dempsey, crowded with his band of loud friends who are laughing and pushing each other. You meet his eye and he stops, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. You roll your eyes and look away, and you can almost hear him sigh in defeat. Someone slaps him on the shoulder and whistles as you walk by. “Daaamn, Dempsey, you gotta let us share.” You don’t see him shove the guy and stalk off.

The first half of the day passes by like a breeze. By the time fourth period ends, you barely feel like the day has started. You head out for the cafeteria, stacking all your books in your arms and making it through the door, but it wasn’t long before you could hear footsteps running after you. “Hey, wait up, Y/N!”

You turn around and groan, continuing to walk. “Dempsey.” You try not to glance as he jogs up next to you and ruffles his hair, staring at you with this half grin of his you didn’t want to admit you liked.

“Uh, hey.” “Something you need?”

“No, uh, actually, I wanted to talk to you.” He looks at you sheepishly.

“Okay, talk.”

“Um, you look nice today,” He offers, biting his cheek. You stop, staring at him in disgust. “What?” He trails. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding with me.” You shake your head in disbelief and keep walking.

“What’s wrong?” He keeps up. “Seriously, Dempsey, are you hitting on me now?” “And why would that be so terrible?”

“Geez, Dempsey, what is wrong with you?” You deadpan. “You are such an ass, you know that? Do you always treat girls like shit?” You gape at his blank face. “Jenny. From last Saturday. You think it’s OK to throw girls around like that?”

“What? No! I- uh, Jenny and I aren’t serious, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He winces, scratching his neck.

“Yeah, right. Of course not.”

“Look, can I take you out this weekend? To Rosie’s maybe? I’ve wanted to maybe get to be with you out of school. We could go to the movies?” You’re at the cafeteria doors now, but Zach shuts them with his left arm, blocking the way in front of you. You snort. “You can’t be serious.” You watch as his face falls and his mouth twitches.

“What’s so bad about going out with me?”

“God, you are such a jerk, Zach!” You groan, throwing your free hand in exasperation. He winces at the sound of his name being used so hatefully- he’s only ever heard you say Dempsey. He tries to forget about all the times he’s dreamed of his name coming out of your mouth, but decides he hates it when you yell it at him. “You think it’s fun, don’t you? Having no respect for girls whatsoever. You get off buttering them up with kisses and flowers and take them to the movies only to ignore them completely a day or two later. Who, in their right mind, would ever want to go out with someone like you?”

“I only ever wanted to go to that fucking movie theatre because I heard you were going to be there!” His voice rises to a shout. It echoed through the halls, and you wince knowing someone would hear. “You think I wanted to watch that stupid chick flick, with all that shit about high heels and prom? Fuck, I never even liked Jen! Why would I when I’ve always wanted someone else?”

His breath was heavy. Suddenly it was hard to swallow. You try to stand your ground, staring at him. “Nice one. You think it’d be easy for me to believe that, what with your list of conquests and a new girl making out on your desk each week? You must be daft, Zach Dempsey.”

He scowls. “I never wanted them. Never. I just- I just thought that maybe if you saw that everyone wanted me, just maybe you would have wanted me too.” His face softens, and he starts fiddling with his fingers. “Okay, I get it. You could never want me. I know, I just thought I could change that somehow. I’m used to getting my way, you know. Girls flock me, throw themselves at me. I’m used to getting everything I want, but then you’re here, in front of me, and fuck, I’ve never wanted to kiss anything more in my life.”

“Okay,” You say softly, before you can stop yourself. He barely hears it, but his ears perk up. “What’d you say?”

“I said okay,” You clear your throat, and bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling as his lips form into a helpless grin. “Saturday night, Rosie’s?”
“Fuck yes!” He fistbumps the air, then stops as soon as he realises you’re still in front of him. You giggle and hide your face in your hands as he leans forward without thinking, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you in the air. You couldn’t help your cheeks from turning red. Zach Dempsey was adorable. He really was.

“Okay, I’ll see you in Trig?” He asks, palming his phone in his front pocket. He’d have to tell Foley, he was thinking. Man, his best friend would be so proud. His head was rushing when he swooped in and pressed his lips to your flushed cheek. “I can’t wait.”




thanks for sticking around! give this a heart and reblog if you want more, and follow my blog if you want to be notified overtime i post a new imagine! this is a brand new blog and i’m so excited to see what ideas you might have for me.

Did I Shave My Legs For This?

Today I witnessed men mocking a woman for having hairy legs and underarms. I have something to say about this.

Firstly, the shaving of legs is a new fashion trend. It was done a bit in the 20′s, but honestly, it wasn’t until the forties that anyone gave a damn. Before that, no one saw your legs, because they wee covered in skirts. Men didn’t even know women HAD legs.

Slight exaggeration, but still quite meaningful.

In the last 70 years, men have gone from not knowing and not caring one bit about female body hair, to completely transforming their ideal feminine counterpart into a hairless model. Men like to tout masculinity as being impervious, but I’ll warrant you, you can watch them evolve with the feedback of marketing scams run on their little mammalian brains.

Did Queen Victoria have shaved legs…well, let’s first establish that yes, she did actually have legs. But were they hairless? During her 60-odd year reign, did she employ some servant to come pluck out her hairs?

Did Queen Elizabeth have hairless legs? 44 years of reign, at the time the longest reigning monarch of British history, but no, you’re right. She probably had the Lady of the Royal Chamber rake on a good lather before she went out in her Spanish farthingale.

Did Cleopatra have a straight razor? Did Helen of Troy? These are two women who literally destroyed nations with their beauty and the lust men had for them. Do you think they had shaved legs? What about their underarms?

Now, yes, there were traditions of removing hair. The Roman women, for example, plucked their hair out of their underarms, but I promise you…no one sat about for hours having their legs plucked with tweezers. And if they did, they had a lot of time and money to spare.

Do you know who Boudicca is? She was an Icenian queen during the first century. She led a rebellion against Roman factions at Londinium. 

Famously, she said, “This is done with the resolve of a woman. Men may live as slaves if they wish.”

She leveled three Roman outposts, well-established settlements. And came to Londinium with an army decked out in stolen Roman arms. They razed the city to the ground with fires so thick that an ash layer still exists in the stria of the City of London to this very day. As she rode through the old city on her chariot, with her Roman spear in hand, poised to launch it through the throat of a fleeing patrician, did she pause her assault to wonder…

Did I shave my legs for this?

As the man fell to the ground, choking on his own blood and the ash from the searing fires, do you think he looked up at this queen, this woman defiant and majestic, and thought, “Ye gods, what hirsuit underarms!”

I wonder how many plucked Roman women were trampled by that carriage.

I wonder if Anne Bonny, the notorious pirate ever was mocked by her male crew for having a fluffy undercarriage.

I wonder if when Annie Oakley, at 15, beat her crackshot future husband at a shooting contest, he looked at her little knees and thought, “Not this one. She’s too furry.”

I wonder if Anne Boleyn was beheaded for wearing a pair of furry britches beneath her skirts.

I wonder, if while He suckled as an infant, resplendent in holy fire and divinity, the newborn Jesus Christ, tucked His wee face to the crook of His Virgin Mother’s arm and let out a squeal at the ghastly sight of her unshaven underarms. Or if when He was installing himself in her abdomen, He gave a moment’s pause to think, “Dear Me, what am I doing, shoving myself into this horribly hairy wench?”

The answer to all of these is…No. Of course not, you fucking idiot.

Body hair exists for a reason, you stupid semi-hairless apes. Don’t you ever wonder why you still have it? I will tell you why. It provides necessary warmth, not just with insulation, but with the way your anatomy functions. Air catches the hairs and lifts them, causing a tickle that forces the follicle to swell into goose flesh, warming the skin through motion. It provides protection from the sun. And in the regions where it is thickest, it guards against the elements, keeps out parasites, and keeps your sensitive areas like your eyes, from being drowned in sweat. It even cushions and reduces the likelihood of heat rashes and chafing in the parts of you that touch. Hair is important. It wasn’t just Sampson who gained strength from it.

And I wonder, if while Sampson was laid low, his power sapped, if he looked up at the gorgeous Delilah with her treacherous shears and thought… “Why didn’t she pluck her eyebrows!”

Power is walking into a room with nothing in hand, and doing just fine.

Beauty is standing as you are, but embodying all that is graceful and powerful about the female condition.

And judging a woman on a trend that is younger then my oldest knee-length hemline is an act of such supreme stupidity and transient masculinity that I cannot even describe how ridiculous I find it. But men are the ones who are rational, yes? Men and all their manly manliness are immune to fads and trends and “girly fashion shit”, right, “bruh”?

Women have hair on their bodies same as you. You seem to do just fine wearing yours. Why do you begrudge her hers?

I say we start a new trend, where females begin to harass the worst offenders for having hairy legs. I shan’t be pleased if in 70 years, I am not seeing all men in shorts looking like the backside of a baby from the knee down. I want to see hordes of women tracking down these men who label a type of deception as beauty, and demanding they carve off their top layer of skin and fur. I want to hear these men who cannot see valor, fortitude, strength, and hair as beautiful, squeak when they walk.

And then I want all humans to embrace that which makes them soft and healthy, and stop rewriting history by turning it into one inglorious quest for vanity.

Thanks Mom

Prompt: You’re Steve’s gf and the golden girl of Hawkins High School … and you aren’t quite as good at taking the high rode as your bf when it comes to Billy Hargrove. 

Warnings: Innuendo. Language. Threats. Basically 25% trying to kill Billy; 75% fluff with Steve’s gf being the Mother of his Children 

You shoved you’re books in your locker just in time for Steve to sweep you off your feet. 

“Hey, good lookin’.” He smiled. 

You rose an eyebrow and restrained a laugh. “Hi Gorgeous. Why are you so chipper?” 

He sighed, toying with the hem of your shirt. “Well I’ve got this crazy hot date tonight.” 

“Ugh, I know, she’s so out of your league.” You grinned. “How do you cope?” 

“Well, you know I’m good in the sack.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.  

You tossed your head back in laughter, checking to see if anyone had heard him, before leaning closer. 

“You do have that going for you.” You murmured, pecking him on the lips. 

“Yeah?” He kissed you back, and didn’t pull away this time, pressing you against your locker.  

“Harrington. Leave room for Jesus, will you?” Ms. Lockhart barked from her classroom door. 

You pulled away from him and giggled, the slightest hint of blush in your cheeks as you peeked over Steve’s shoulder.  

“Meet me at my car?” Steve said. 

“Why don’t you meet me at mine, sweetheart?” Billy Hargrove strutted by the two of you, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. “I’d love to give you a ride.” 

Steve took his hands from your waist to face Hargrove, but you grabbed his hands and put them back on your hips, looking Billy in the eyes. 

“Stick to what you’re used to, Hargrove. We both know your car isn’t built to handle a girl like me.” You said evenly. 

Tommy, who flanked Billy, let his mouth drop, a giggle escaping. 

“Shut your mouth.” Billy said, with a side glance at Tommy, and then looked back to you, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Well that’s one hell of a bluff, baby. Why don’t you call me, if you’d like to prove it?” He winked at you and then looked at Steve, “Or if you just get bored.” 

You and Steve both watched him as he made his way down the hallway. 

“Wow.” You said. “What a dick.” 

“Yeah, he’s been after me for a while.” Steve shook his head, “All this alpha male stuff about who runs this school or whatever. It’s bullshit, don’t worry about it.” 

“I won’t.” You said, then Steve looked at you.

“‘We both know you couldn’t handle a girl like me’?” He rose an eyebrow, a smile on his face. 

You bit your lip. “Yeah, was that a bit much?”  

“Babe, that was so hot.” 

You giggled as he pressed you up against the lockers once more, his lips on yours. 

Mister Harrington!” 

He broke away. “Sorry Ms. Lockhart.” He said, still looking at you. “God, you’re wonderful. Do I tell you that enough?” 

“No, not nearly.” You smiled. 

“Jesus Christ. Why don’t you just cream your pants now, Steve?” Came Dustin’s voice, with Will, Lucas, Mike, and Max in tow behind him. 

“Fuck off, man.” Steve took a step back. You noticed a slight blush in his cheeks, and it made you smile. 

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings?” Dustin said. “No really, we can all turn around, give you your privacy in this public school hallway-”

“Hey, I’m the one with the car. So clearly you didn’t hurt my feelings, or your ass would be biking home.” Steve griped, grabbing your hand as you all made for the parking lot. 

“Sorry about that again, by the way.” Max said sheepishly. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Lucas reassured her. 

“Yeah, she can’t help it her stepbrother’s the Antichrist.” Dustin added. 

“Billy Hargrove? What’d he do?” You turned to look at them. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Steve look at you, and then to the kids. 

“It wasn’t a big thing, really.” Steve said. 

“Basically, he tried to kill us.” Dustin said, ignoring Steve’s pointed looks. 

You stopped on the school’s front steps and turned. “He did what?” 

“Tried to run us over on our way home from school a couple weeks back.” Mike said. 

“I was arguing with him, he was just trying to freak me out.” Max added, rolling her eyes. 

“How-” You stopped, putting your hand on your hip and looking at them. “Exactly how close did he come to killing you?”  

They all glanced at one another. 

“Babe, are you …” Steve began, but you turned on your heel and started down the steps at a fast pace. “Hey, Y/N, where are you going?” 

“Do you still have that tire iron in your trunk?” You asked distractedly. 

“Um … what?” Steve looked at you, bewildered and alarmed. 

You opened his trunk, grabbed the metal instrument, and headed off in a different direction: Billy’s car. 

“Hey. Hey!” Steve called after you, but Dustin grabbed him when he made to go after you. 

Billy sat in the driver’s seat, Carol getting ready to climb in the passenger’s side. He saw you approaching, smiled, and leaned out the window. 

“Bored already, baby-” 

But he hadn’t finish his sentence before you’d lodged the tire iron in his left headlight. The crash attracted the attention of everyone in the nearest vicinity as glass scattered on the pavement.  

“Hey! HEY!” He threw his cigarette out and kicked open the door. 

Billy Hargrove was not a person to be taken lightly, but you only moved closer, stepping up beside the hood of his car. 

“You make a single move, Hargrove, and I will lodge this tire iron in your windshield.” You held it up threateningly. He paused, looking at you in alarm and muted rage. “Where EXACTLY do you get off trying to kill a bunch of kids, huh?” 

“What the fuck are you-”

“Don’t remember that, shitdick?” You raised your weapon higher. 

He glanced at it and then sighed. “Look, Sweetheart, I was just trying to teach my kid sister a lesson, okay? Nothin’ personal.” 

“I don’t give a fuck.” You snarled, leaning forward. “Those kids over there? They’re mine. If I see you so much as take a step in their direction your car will be the least of your problems. I will beat your fucking ass, do you understand me?” 

He watched you for a moment, and then scoffed and shook his head. “Alright, whatever. I get it. Just get the hell off my car.” 

You started to turn and then turned back, putting your hand on his door so he couldn’t shut it. He stopped and looked at you. “And just to be clear, you don’t run this school and neither does Steve. I do.” 

You released his car, turned on your heel, and marched back to the kids, tire iron still hanging from your right hand. Dimly, you heard Billy’s speakers turn up as he tore out of the parking lot. 

“Alright, Y/N!” Mike grinned. 

“Dude, he was so scared!” Max said incredulously. 

“God, Steve, you’re fired. Y/N’s our new Super Mom.” Dustin said. 

You put the tire iron on the hood of Steve’s car and your smile turned sheepish when you finally looked at him. 

“What the hell was that?” He asked, bewildered. 

You shrugged. “He could’ve killed them. We’ve got enough aliens and government conspiracies to deal with without some douche trying to mow them down on the street.”  

“God, I am so hot for you right now.” Steve grabbed your arm and pulled you against him, making you giggle and the kids let out a chorus of hurling noises. “You are the new Wonder Mom, I can’t beat that.” He said.

You pressed a kiss to his lips and grabbed the iron, “We can co-parent. Wonder Dad.” 

27 Dress Code Violations

@jilychallenge 04/2017 | @bantasticbeasts vs @anxiouspotter

Muggle AUs | “i get dress coded so you give me your jacket and we protest unfair regulations for girls together/you sass the teacher about how distracted you are by my shoulders”

Word Count: 2500

special shoutout to @jiilys. solidarity, sister

AO3


i.

She walks into English fifteen minutes late, wearing both a deeply unflattering smock and a scowl. Neither are an especially new look on her.

“Vector,” she says under her breath, as an answer to Mary McDonald’s unspoken question. It’s the answer to every question in the room. Ms Vector is notorious among them all for her very strict adherence to the school’s dress code.

“Yes, Miss Evans’ entrance was very exciting, but I’ll have your attention back to the lesson now, please,” says Ms McGonagall. James snaps back to attention. It’s for the best.

ii.

“Here,” James says, shrugging off his jacket and thrusting it toward Lily. She gives him this look like, fuck off, and James has to bite his tongue to stop from aggravating her. “They’re doing uniform checks up the hall. Just put it on.”

Evans gives him a very strange look, and it takes him a second to realise that it’s neutral.

She looks good in his jacket.

iii. 

Every third dress code violation results in a lunch time detention. It’s only October, and Lily’s already had six. She doesn’t look at James as she takes the seat three ahead and one to the left of him.

iv.

There’s a thump from somewhere in the back of the classroom, and McGonagall isn’t planning on looking up - it sounds like it came from the general vicinity of Potter and Black, and that’s certainly not a situation she wants to engage with - but the entire class is already turned around to see what the fuss is.

She strides down the aisle between the desks, and is about three years past surprised to find James Potter lying on the floor, gazing at the ceiling, glasses knocked aside.

“Am I boring you so much that you decided to take a nap?” she asks, and James gives this wicked smile, and here we go–

“Sorry, Miss, I can’t get up. It’s Evans’ shoulders - they’re overwhelming me. I simply can’t do anything until she covers them up. Sirius, tell me when it’s safe.”

He’s a funny boy, she’ll give him that. “Potter, get up. This is hardly the time for foolishness.”

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The Group Project

(Jimin is jealous when his best friend and roommate, Taehyung, has a date with the girl Jimin has a crush on.)

Warning: 8000 words and 75% of this is pure smut. MMF sex.  Dirty talking.  Disrespectful name calling.   The usual.


“Fuck you, Kim Taehyung! FUCK! YOU!”  Jimin was livid.  “I’ve never said a single thing to you about all the shit I have to put up with as your roommate!  All the times I’ve had to crash at a friend’s place because you brought some girl back to our dorm room for the night!  I can’t remember the last time I spent a whole week able to sleep in my own bed because of you!  And all those times I woke up to find some chick I don’t know in your bed?  Like you couldn’t just go somewhere else to fuck them? Did you really have to screw them in our room while I was asleep?”  Taehyung opened his mouth to answer, but Jimin cut him off.  “And I wasn’t even asleep for all of them!  What was that one girls name? The one with the short hair? Jungin? Jungah?  Just because you took her into our bathroom to have her suck your dick doesn’t mean I didn’t hear EVERY FUCKING THING that happened in there!  You are so fucking vile!  The things you said to that girl… the sound of her choking on your dick while you called her a slut?  What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Some girls like that shit,” Taehyung replied calmly.  “She definitely liked it, that’s for sure.”

Jimin rolled his eyes dismissively.  “The point is that I’ve never said anything to you about how you’ve stuck your dick in half the women on campus.  Despite the fact that you are always inconveniencing me in order to get your rocks off, I’ve kept my mouth shut.  It’s your life and it’s not really any of my business.  But this is TOO FUCKING MUCH!  I thought we were friends?  I never thought you would totally screw me over like this!”

“We are friends!  I didn’t do this to screw you over.” Taehyung and Jimin had been randomly assigned to be roommates in their small single room dorm room their freshman year and immediately became the best of friends.  Taehyung was on a scholarship that paid for his student housing on campus and Jimin couldn’t imagine living with anyone other than Taehyung, so despite the cramped quarters and the arguments frequently caused by the lack of privacy, they continued living together in the dormitory.

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anonymous asked:

prompt: alicia almost leaves bob after jacks overdose

[prompted by @eskildit, who now knows better than to send anons when she has great prompt idea <3  tw: overdose, homophobia]

The night before her son turns 13, Alicia Zimmermann pulls her husband aside and says, “Promise me you’ll let him choose for himself. If he wants to play hockey, if he wants to dance, if he wants to be a waiter, we’ll be okay with it.

Bob promises her, with all the devotion she’s come to expect, but not minutes later reminds her the NHL waits for no man, and Jack will need to start preparing for the future as soon as possible.

It was a sign of things to come, and she didn’t heed the warnings.


Jack is 14 when they diagnose him with an anxiety disorder Alicia’s never heard of. The specialist recommends reducing the level of stress in his life, maybe cutting back on unnecessary extracurriculars. He knows the family. He knows Bob. He’s being gentle.

They don’t change anything because hockey is life. Jack’s happy on the ice, unhappy off, so they take the medication instead. Just another step to Jack’s already offensively complicated routine.

“See?” Bob smiles when Jack is chosen to play for Rimouski Oceanic. “He’s going to be fine. Not like you and I didn’t need a little extra help in the beginning.”

He’s talking about Alicia’s drinking nearly twenty years prior. His own cocaine problem in the early 80s. But Jack’s not twenty and whole-hog into a career, he’s a teenager. 

She wants to protest on principle, but this isn’t her life. Bob knows this world better than she ever will, and if Jack still wants to play professionally (and he does), she needs to defer to her husband.

If this is what Jack wants, they’ll make it work.


Jack’s energetic, he’s happy, he has a friend he won’t be seen without, and Alicia watches how close Kent’s fingers are to Jack’s when they walk together. It’s not what she expected, but she’s happy he has someone. 

She’s not the only one that notices how close the boys are, and Bob turns to her in bed one night, brow furrowed, and says, “Kent Parson.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Are he and Jack…?”

She doesn’t say anything, just lifts a brow and gives him a considering look. 

Bob’s lips go white with how hard he’s pressing them together. “That’s not going to be easy, for either of them.”

“If it makes him happy,” she argues, and Bob hums in agreement. That should have been the end of it. But something happens, and she’s not there to stop it. 


The night before Jack overdoses and his career goes up in flames, the Zimmermann household is in ruins for an entirely different reason.

“Jesus Christ, Robert, I’m supposed to be a goddamn activist, if this gets out —”

“I don’t have a problem with gay people —”

“Don’t lie to me!” Alicia slams her hand on the table, nearly shaking with anger. “You told him to hide.”

“I told him to be discreet. Do you think I’m doing this for me? I’m getting calls day and night from teams wanting to know if the rumors are true. I was trying to be proactive! He can’t be–”

“What? Gay? That’s what you’re worried about? Maybe we can engrave that on the back of my GLAAD award: ‘For excellence in telling your child to hide their sexuality until they retire’. So everyone can know how fucking supportive we are. Does he think I feel the same way you do?”

“I don’t know, I don’t remember,”

My God, I can’t even look at you right now. You’re going to fix this. I don’t know how, but you’re going to make this right.”


Of course, then they find Jack unresponsive on the floor with a half empty bottle of medication and they don’t immediately know it was an accident. 

For about twelve hours, while Jack’s condition is still unstable, Alicia very seriously considers killing her husband. 

They’re red-eyed and exhausted in the waiting room when the doctor on call says they need to pray for a miracle. She stares at a stain on the carpet for a long moment, hands clasped, but she’s not praying. Bob makes some kind of sound, a hitching breath that isn’t quite crying, and she turns her head to watch him fidget. 

“Robert, look at me,” she says softly, deceptively kind, and when she has his attention, and with more hatred than she ever thought she could possibly feel, she says, “You did this. And I swear to you, if my son dies tonight, I’ll leave.”

She doesn’t wait for him to answer, doesn’t even wait to see the expression on his face. She collects her purse and stands, stretching her legs and heads to the vending machines.

She buys a Dr. Pepper and a bag of Tropical Skittles.



Jack lives. 

Alicia stays.

But she moves her GLAAD award to the trophy room. Settles it right beside Bob’s Hall of Fame plaque. 

Because she will never let him forget.

Hexed

Characters:  Dean x Reader, Sam

Summary:  Reader and Dean are…you guessed it…hexed.  Is it a sexual curse or something more?

Word Count:  2111

Warnings:  Lots of language, lots of smut (rough-ish smut)

As always, feedback is appreciated.  Tags are at the bottom.

Originally posted by holy-fucking-damn-shit

Hexed 

There is a time and place for everything, this is neither the time nor the place. Not for Dean to be looking at me like that, no sir. Had I always hoped he’d fix those ethereal green eyes on me that way? My mama didn’t raise a liar, so I’m not going to lie to you. Yeah, I want that man to fix those eyes on me just like that. Wanted him to for a long time now. There’s a lot of things I want from Dean Winchester.  That man is a walking wet dream, sex on bow-legs.

Things is, he’s not supposed to be looking at me like that. Sure as hell not right this very minute.  It’s not part of the plan. We’re working a fucking case for god’s sake. I’m not talking about research or footwork, interviewing and investigating. We are legitimately standing in this room right the fuck now and a motherfucking witch was just here with us. There is a blade in my hand and a gun in his. We had a job to do, one goddamn job.

Now that bitch of a witch is gone. Poof, vanished, adios amigos, just fucking gone. She mumbled some shifty spell work and now Dean fucking Winchester is looking like he wants to screw my brains out.

I’m looking right back at him and I got the same look in my eye.  

I don’t know what that piece of shit did to us, but my breasts are heavy, achy. My nipples are straining against the fabric of my bra and if somebody doesn’t touch them right this very instant and relieve that pressure, I’m going to scream. Or come. I don’t know which.  

There’s a burning in between my thighs, I’m squeezing them together hoping to ease some of the pressure but it’s only making it worse. Times infinity. My skin is all heat and fire, I’m consumed by need and lust.

Dean is a mirror, his eyes reflect back at me the same fever I’m feeling. I can see his cock - Jesus fucking Christ - swelling and straining against those blue denim jeans. In three short steps his crossed the room, a strangled sound leaving his lips before his lips press to mine. Our weapons clatter to the ground making one hell of a racket, but I give no fucks.

Keep reading

Ecstasy (M)

Plot: Once always ends up meaning over and over again. You had a sinful addiction towards your roommate’s boyfriend, one that really couldn’t be controlled for long.

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, highschool au!

Warnings: cheating, oral (receiving), GETTING FUCKED AGAINST THE WALL BY JUNGKOOK, shower sex, (almost) getting caught

Notes: Good girl part 2, ya’ll. Since someone asked for it and I was in the mood. u caught me at a good time, anon. I hope you guys like it. I feel like the quality of my smut had really gone down so like, I”M SO SORRY. 2.5K Words

Good Girlmasterlist

Originally posted by dream-bts

Jeon Jungkook was like a drug.

After that one hook-up in your living room, he just kept coming back for more. It was either the excitement of getting caught, or the fact that you gave him so much more pleasure than his girlfriend did.

He was still with Jenna, but at this point, you doubted he even cared about her.

Whenever she would go for parties, he would inform you when she had gotten lost in the crowd, then you would either go over to his place or he would come over to yours.

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Use Me.

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 6930

Warnings: Angst if you like squint! Smut. Kinky shit. NSFW gifs. Language. 

Summary: You surprise Bucky with a little outfit during Tony’s halloween party.

A/N: Congrats @bucky-plums-barnes on the 8K!! Since people asked for a second part to Anticipation, I thought why not do the second part for someone else’s challenge. Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE. Gif source.

Part 1

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Sober

2,500 Followers Oneshot

Summary: The reader is drunk and she tries to have sex with her best friend Jensen.

Prompt: “Why are you in my bed?!”

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Requested: @supernaturalgirl85


Jensen tiredly drudges up the stairs in his Malibu home, grumpy as all hell. He just lost $2,000 at a poker game and it’s safe to say that he’s ripshit.

Although he’s not concerned about actually losing the money, being a successful movie director has set his ass up for life.

It’s just the fact that he lost. He’s a competitive fucker, always has been and always will be. It’s in his DNA.

And to add fuel to the fire, his friends refused to give him another chance to win back his money. Claiming it’s too late and they needed to call it a night. It’s only midnight for Christ’s sake. Old bastards.

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Fuel to Fire (intro)

Stucky x reader

Notes: fluff, tattooing, some angst, smut (m/m and m/m/f) 

Summary: Living their dream, Bucky and Steve run their tattoo shop ‘American Ink’ together, happily married for several years and business is going well. When a girl walks into their shop and inevitably into their lives right after they’ve received some exciting news, they have no idea how their lives are about to change with some harmless but straight-forward flirting. 

A/N: This is the introduction to the tattoo-shop AU, a Stucky x reader story that could be compared to my earlier series: Savages. I have no idea where this is going or how long it’s gonna be. I’m just gonna see where it takes me. 

“Buck-.. you think we’re gettin’ boring?” Steve muses, his arms behind his head, relaxing against his pillow as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Steve” Bucky groans, popping up somewhere below Steve’s belt, pushing his hair away from his eyes. “m’Tryin’ to suck your dick here, you mind?”

“I don’t, actually” Steve grins. “I was just thinkin’”

“Yeah. I know” Bucky shuts him up, pinching his husband’s side, earning a yelp in turn. “Stop it and let me suck your pretty cock”

“Baby, c’mon, hold on a minute, okay?” Steve pleads, putting on his best pouting face and big blue eyes.

Bucky groans, rolls off his husband, “Okay, okay. Stop with the eyes already. What’s on your mind?”

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I Think I’m In Love With You

Author: ceruleanbucky

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

WARNINGS: SMUT, cursing, oral (male and female receiving), UNPROTECTED SEX, fingering, sexual tension, fluff, and overall sin.

A/N: guy’s I’ve updated twice in like a week and a half what is happening?!?! I mean, it’s not necessarily bad. Also, this fic is hella long, and I;m not going to lie, I’m really proud of it. Hope you guys like it! Part two of “Seven Minutes In Heaven” is coming next week.


You wake up with a start, breathing heavily and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You tried to recall what it was you were dreaming about, but to no avail. You eventually give up, thinking that it was another nightmare.

You glance at your alarm clock, wondering about the time. Seeing that you have two more hours to sleep, you gladly roll over and go back to sleep.

When your alarm goes off, you feel even more tired than you were earlier. You still manage to drag yourself out of bed, and start your day. It’s then when you smell the bacon, and the coffee. Perking up at the idea of a good breakfast, you put on some more decent pyjamas, and head to the kitchen. Most people are still asleep, seeing as the sun is only just rising, so you wonder who is in the kitchen. You step in, and find Bucky cooking up a storm.

“Sad, or mad?” You ask as you walk in, knowing it’s one of the two. He looks at you with confusion, so you rephrase.

“Are you cooking because you’re sad, or because you’re pissed off? Because I know you, Bucky, and it’s only one of those two.” You smirk at your friend, earning a smirk back.

“Neither actually.” He side-eyes, adding to your curiosity.

Keep reading

punsbulletsandpointythings  asked:

Your myth retellings are gorgeous. Would you tell another please? Maybe something with Hermes?

Pandora is made from earth, shaped by the hands of Hephaestus and made in the image of his beloved wife. Aphrodite gifts her with grace and charisma. Athena teaches her to weave and bestows cleverness upon her.

She stands in front of Hermes, and the god frowns and touches her with a single fingertip on her chin, moving her head one way than the other. “They’ll eat you alive,” he says, and she doesn’t understand.

She tilts her head to the side and smiles a vacant smile. All of the cleverness in the world will do her no good without any context. “We are the same,” she says, pressing a hand to Hermes’s chest. She is made from earth and has the skin to mach. He is a celestial god, and his skin is the same rich shade of brown.

He did not ask to be born any more than his mother asked to bare him. His creation, just like hers, is at the whims of Zeus. All for some little lost fire, all because Prometheus wanted his people to be warm, and, well, he is the god of the thieves after all –

So he gifts her with deceit, with selfishness, with cunning. Her smile leaves her face all at once as she’s filled with self-awareness. “He’ll be angry with you,” she says, “I am not what you were supposed to make.”

“Gods have short memories,” he says, and doesn’t bother to hide the contempt in his voice. “Do not worry about me, gifted child. You have larger problems than my fate.”

He has turned her from something pure into – something more like him. Her face darkens even further as her perfectly crafted mind slots all the pieces together, and he can’t help but find her lovely. It’s how she was made, after all. “I can’t stop it, can I? Whatever they’re planning for me to do?”

“No,” Hermes says, “but now you might be able to survive it.”

“Will I want to?” she asks, and he doesn’t answer. She doesn’t expect him too.

~

She hides from everyone, lives in a cave at the edge of the city. The gods had called her the first woman, but that’s not true, she can see.

There are women. They smile and laugh have work roughened hands. She aches to join them, but she has the beauty of a goddess. They will know. If she joins them, they will know she is not of them, and it will set into motion whatever trap Zeus has planned.

She is not human, not in the same way, molded from clay by a god’s hands. But she is of humans, and not eager to bestow upon them the harm she’s destined to bring them. She bathes in streams where only nymphs reside, steals into the city in the cloak of night and pilfers from the baker’s trash.

“When they said they sent my brother a wife,” a low, amused voice says too close behind her one night, “I had not expected a begger.”

She whirls around, hard bread clenched tight in front of her, an incredibly inefficient shield. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees him, dark and tall and eyes like the night sky. He looks like Hermes. Like her. “Who are you?” she demands. They’re in an alley corner, and of her gifts flight is not among them. She’ll have to fight him to get away.

She’s not afraid of him. Maybe another mortal would be, cornered in the middle of the night by a man she doesn’t know. But she’s no normal mortal woman, and besides – he has something comforting about him, like the hearthfire attended by Hestia. Something warm.

“I am Prometheus,” says the man, and no wonder he reminds her of fire. “What do they call you?”

“You are meant to be in the deepest pits of Hades’s realm,” she snaps, and shifts her grip on the stale bread so that she can throw it at him. He’s the whole reason she’s here to begin with, him and his thievery.

He shrugs and walks closer to her, watching her like one would watch a wild animal. Good. Here, in this dark alley where no one would find a cooling body until morning, it is he that should be afraid. “Gods forget,” he says, “and Hades had grown cold in his place beneath the earth.”

She pauses, considers. “You stole fire for Hades?”

“No,” he corrects, “I stole fire for the people. But Hades benefited as well. Enough that he was willing to forget the terms of my punishment.”

“What do you want?” she asks for the second time. “Why are you here?”

He stops, too close to her, “The question is why are you here?”

She steps into his space now, following him as he backs away from her, “I am here because of you, fire-stealer, because gods may forget but they do not forgive, and I am the punishment they have unleashed upon the world.”

“What a punishment you are,” he says, looking at her lips, and she forgets to hate him only long enough to kiss him.

~

Hermes watches her, watches them. He doesn’t know Zeus’s plan, if this is part of it or not, but he watches her, and he worries. He thinks it is, he can see Aphrodite’s magic clinging to Pandora, but he doesn’t know why.

He would go to his mother, but she’s always difficult to find, Gaea preferring to live in streams and rivers rather than face the man she bore a son for. But his mother’s father, on the other hand, is always in the same place.

“Grandfather,” Hermes greets, touching lightly down onto the earth, “How are you?”

“How am I always, boy?” Atlas grunts out, legs and arms straining as he holds up the sky above the earth. “Tired.”

Hermes lips quirk up the corners. Some days, he thinks he’s more Atlas’s grandson than he’s Zeus’s son. “I need some advice, Grandfather.”

Atlas raises an eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

So Hermes tells him everything, from beginning to end, because he can’t figure out what his father’s plan is, but Atlas might. He’s known the man for longer, at least.

Atlas nods, slow, and says, “A bride of gods, a gifted child. I can think of only one reason to create such a child.” Hermes waits. Atlas sighs and says, “There is a jar, within Olympus, that becomes sealed when it leaves the realm of the gods. After that, only a being neither mortal nor celestial may open it.”

“What are they planning to put inside?” Hermes demands, heart spiking. What are they planning to unleash upon the unsuspecting earth?

His grandfather smirks, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is this – what are you going to put inside?”

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