look at her jeans


“You ready?” Daryl asks, coming back into their bedroom.

“Just about,” Beth answers, giving her hair one more tousle before turning to look at him. “How do I look?” She asks.

Daryl doesn’t even really look at her before he steps in and putting his hands on her cheeks, he gives her a kiss. “You look amazin’,” he says and she smiles and blushes as she always does when he does and says something like that.

She gives herself one more look in the mirror. Skinny jeans, her black and white Converse sneakers, her black Lynyrd Skynyrd tee-shirt that she had bought at the last concert they had gone to; her hair is down and her lips are red with lipstick. Daryl is wearing blue jeans and his own black Lynyrd Skynyrd tee-shirt and she likes to think that they look like a pretty cool couple right now.

She has always enjoyed this band’s music, but since marrying Daryl, Beth has definitely found herself falling in love with it. It’s really the only band her husband tends to listen to so she hears it often enough and when the band goes on tour, Daryl gets them tickets to at least one of the shows; usually for the lawn and they bring a blanket and Beth is pretty sure there is no more perfect moment on earth than sitting in the dark between Daryl’s legs, leaning back against his chest, listening to “Simple Man” and “Free Bird”.

Feels Like Loneliness - Part Seven

Okay, so first of all, I really enjoyed writing this part. Second of all, this chapter is about a thousand words longer than usual. I really hope you all enjoy it, the next part will be out soon enough.

Previous parts: one | two | three | four | five | six

Amelia stared at herself in the mirror and sighed. It was just her and James catching up as friends, but she still put in as much effort as she could into looking good. With tighter fitting jeans, heels, a long sleeved burgundy blouse, her hair down, and her makeup done, she felt satisfied. She felt good, attractive. It felt god to dress up a little bit. With one final look over herself, she made her way down to the stairs towards the living room. 

Keep reading

  • Me: It's okay to be unsure of your gender/sexuality!!1! It's totally cool to be figuring yourself out!
  • Me @ me: except you bc u need to get ur stuff together and figure out what the heck u are right now immediately
Scars that he leaves

Summary : Logan is constantly abusing you verbally, you’re way past your breaking point and he sees what he’s done and tries to fix it
*Logan x reader*

Warnings : fluff, angst i guess? Swearing

A / N : Hey readers! This is my first Logan fic and I’m actually kind of proud of it so if any of you have more requests for this I’d be happy to do them so send em in! Thank you all 💕


You closed your eyes and felt tears of frustration  spill, you poured yourself another glass of wine and turned to Jean. She had a sad look painted on her face and she sighed, “y/n, he isn’t going to stop you know. That’s just his personality, you shouldn’t beat yourself up about it”. You took a fairly large gulp of the wine. You already felt drowsy and you could feel the 4th glass of wine pulsate through your blood stream. It helped, numbed the pain. The pain of rejection and the pain of the harsh words lashing at your weakest points. Hitting you harder everything. Making you bleed out. Sucking you dry of any hope of finding someone who’d love the broken sad mutant that you where.

 You flexed your hands and made a flame appear between your palms. It danced and caused you too giggle. “Jean, I honestly don’t give a shit about him, it’s the words damnit. How can one person bring me down so low” you whisper in fear. Heavy tears start flowing again. “God am I that ugly? That fat? That unappealing? That no body will ever love me… I’ve been alone for my whole life. Is there really no hope for me..” you ramble on, spilling every unspoken word. Stripping your soul bare, not being able to take the knawing pain that was stretching you,

Farther and farther. A knife coming down deeper.


That one man that had that power over you. That moment when he saw you. The distaste in his face was so strong. You felt yourself recoil away from him and you were met with harsh words. “Dumb bitch” “Fat Whore” “Dead weight” . With that, you chugged another glass of wine, only 20 years old and falling apart. You’ve never had this issue before but it was him. The man you’ve heard stories about. The man who was your inspiration to train harder, faster, to make yourself strong and cold. It hurt the most, that someone you looked up hated you. The nights when it became to much you’d always end the same : in tears with empty bottles of wine. Only to find him repeating the same things the next day. Of course he would never know, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing what he’s doing this to you. Jean suddenly nudged you, bringing you out of your thoughts.

You looked up to her and saw the sadness and pain in her face as she read your mind. The pain you felt became hers and a single tear went down her face. “ Y/n, I hate seeing you this way, you’re going to kill yourself at this rate”. You turn away and lean your head back on the couch in Jean’s dorms. You stared at the popcorn ceiling. It was colored a faded grey. Suddenly you get up. You needed a breather. The room felt as if it was suffocating you. “I don’t know why you put up wih my bullshit Jean,” you begin to walk out the room, until a wave of nausea washes over you and you find yourself vomiting up the content of your stomach which mostly consisted of a granola bar and a shit ton of wine.

 "It’s because I care for you, you deserve better than this and it scares me how bad this has gotten" she whispers in a motherly tone. “Let’s get you to bed,” she pull you up by the shoulders and guides you to the door. Your vision is blurred and you close your eyes in fear that you’ll get dizzy and vomit again.

 "What the hell?“ You hear a voice that makes your blood freeze. You wanted to drop to the floor because you knew that voice. It was the same voice of the man that caused you to be in his state. “Logan not now, just leave”, says Jean sternly. You hear a scoff, and some incoherent whispers, you’re afraid of opening your eyes and seeing that scowl on his face. The scowl that makes you want to crawl into the darkest part of your brain and never leave. That look that undoes you. You flinch when you hear the door slam shut as you exit the room. Everything blurs together and suddenly your in your bed, fast asleep before your head hits the pillow.


*jeans pov*

You winced as Y/N vomited, she was so young and pure. Always over working herself to seem stronger. So nobody could kick her around, the minute Logan came and I saw her image in his brain, I had known it wouldn’t end well. He had a knack for pushing people away that he liked. Only to support himself by saying it was for their benefit, but this was too much. He barged into the room and I knew he had heard the crying.

Y/n eyes where closed and she mumbled some words I couldn’t catch. All she was thinking about was his scowl. So deeply burned into her brain, the pain was so strong I nearly dropped her. “What happened?” He mumbled, fresh worry painted his face and you rolled your eyes. “This is your doing, leave.” He scoffed at your words but you had to get Y/N out of here. You dragged her across the room and put her in bed. She fell asleep fast and you went back to your dorm. Logan sat on the couch inspecting the empty wine bottles. He looked up from the bottles and you glared at him. “Do you really need to be so damn harsh. She’s young and is a mess because of you.”

You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow, waiting for his explanation. “  I didn’t know she was taking it so horribly…” you scoff in annoyance, “Really Logan? That’s your excuse, damnit, you damn well know you shouldn’t mess around with the new students. There fresh out of labs or broken families, rejected by society and this kind of stuff sets them off. I’ve never seen anyone worse than what you’ve done to y/n. You crossed a line this time..”. He hangs his head and growls. “Well fuck Jean, she.. I don’t… nevermind…” He got up and stormed past you. “She won’t always be here for you to say sorry, you better fix this mess you’ve made” you call out after him. You see his head snap to the side but he doesn’t slow down. With that, you begin to clean the forgotten bottles and discarded tissues.



*back to reader pov*

You woke up with a jolt. Your skin was covered with a sickly sheen of sweat and your eyes where glued together from tears and runny mascara. You rubbed them to get a clearer view of your surroundings. The alarm clock showed the time as 5 : 21 am. And you sighed as you shoved your head back into the pillow. Your head was pounding and you groaned as you remembered the last night’s occurrences. You tossed around your bed for 15 minutes, trying to will yourself to fall asleep.

It was no use so you decided to go on a walk around the school. You stepped out of your warm bed and shivered as you walked to the closet to put on some comfy sweats and a tank top. You could feel the humidity in the air so you decided to slick your hair in a ponytail to avoid any frizz. You threw on your shoes and walked out the door. The suns buttery morning light filtered through the trees and warmed your skin. You hummed in happiness. You had finally gotten some peace.

After a couple of rounds around the school you could feel your stomach rumbling. You ran inside and to the kitchen, you grabbed a piece of toast and walked back to you room. After finishing your walk you hopped in the shower. The water beads sliding down your skin relaxed every muscle in your body until you heard a loud thump and growl. You quickly grabbed your towel and ran into the room.

You gasped when you saw Logan seething with rage, “ Where the HELL WHERE YOU?” He yelled. You where frozen in your spot, unable to speak. He thundered towards you. Your arms clutching the towel tightly. You could feel his breath coming out in irregular and frantic beats. “I…Uh. wha?….” you squeak, not being able to form words. “LEAVE LIKE THAT AGAIN I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD, WITHOUT TELLING ME OR JEAN OR ANYONE… YOU CAN’T JUST…” He continued yelling at me but I was too dazed to hear anything. Fear filled you and you didn’t know what he’d to. You backed away a step as he yelled at you. His eyes where wild and you where panicking. “I’m sorry?…” you whimper underneath his looming shadow. He gave a exasperated sigh and shook his head. “Why do you care so much anyway? You tell me how useless I am everyday, you would be happy if i dropped dead right now…"You blurted without thinking and his head snapped up.

  You swallow heavily but stand your ground. He looked as if he was going to rip you in half as he pushed you against the wall. You winced at his grip against your hands and let our a yelp. His eyes remained merciless and feral. The towel around you began slipping and you yanked one arm away to hold it up. He only then realized your state and raked his eyes down your body. You shuddered against his stare. His grip suddenly became gentle and he dropped in front of you. On his knees he looked up ” Y/n, I’m sorry. For everthing. Christ, I didn’t know what I was saying was doing to you… I just… no excuse will cover the shit I made you go through”.

You remained motionless. His eyes pleading and warm. Instinctively you reach to run your hands through his dark hair and he closes his eyes and sighs. “Don’t hurt me again…please” you whisper. He leans against your stomach, “I won’t”. Then faster than you could realize his lips are on yours. His beard scratching your neck and cheeks as you sigh into the kiss. Emotions and lust coursing through your veins makes you arch your back as he deepens the kiss. Your intoxicated with him.

His hands roaming your waist, bringing you closer to him. His kiss trails along your neckline to your neck which causes you too moan softly. You gasp and cover your mouth in surprise at your bodies betrayal to pleasure. You can feel him smirk and laugh against your skin. The vibrations from his chest, make your bones rumble. You balance yourself by holding onto his biceps, which where bursting through the t-shirt he was wearing. You where left gasping for air when he was done kissing you.

“Logan..please slow down a bi..ah…t” you mewl as he nips the soft skin of your neck. He suddenly stops “Alright, you should put some clothes on,”. Your eyes widen as you realize your current state and he gives you a smirk. You rush into the bathroom and quickly dress into a oversized hoodie and sweats. Logans laying on your bed with his feet practically dangling off the edges.

You sit on the bed cross-legged until he wordlessly brings you down into his arms and holds you. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this. I was so dumb to do this to you…” He whispers. “I’m just happy that it’s over”. He rubs your back softly and grips you hip with the other. You’re nuzzling your head in his neck, giving him kitten kisses. He grows impatiently and you laugh. He pushes you against him but suddenly you smile and get up. “Didn’t think I’d let you off the hook that easy?” You laugh, he groans in annoyance and you begin to giggle. It was a better start than you’ve hoped for….


Tags : KUMI ARE YOU PROUD I FINALLY DID IT ! @mellifluous-melodramas

Originally posted by extraordinaryxmen

My interpretation of the fake preview for volume 23:

This is basically a continuation from the last fake preview. In the last preview Mikasa was looking for a curse/spell to repel Jean who likes her, and here she is hiding from Jean behind the vending machine.

Armin didn’t hide when he saw Jean, because just like in cannon, he never runs away from the bullies. So Jean starts bulling Armin, as Eren passes by, and at this point Armin and Mikasa still haven’t met Eren.

The scene with Erwin, Hanji, and Levi is self-explanatory. Hanji deliberately walks on the floor that Levi just cleaned, to see how he’ll react. And Erwin finds it funny. Frankly, so do I.

On the second page, Eren is looking at Armin while he’s asking a question “Are you enjoying that?”, as “Are you enjoying being bullied?” Similarly to cannon, he must have witnessed this kid getting bullied many times, and he’s curious why doesn’t he fight back.

It’s important to note that Eren looked quite calm when he asked the question, and yet in the next panel Jean and him are fighting. We didn’t get to see what was Armin’s response, but we can assume that the conversation went similarly like it did in cannon, and that it triggered a reaction from Eren:

Armin: I don’t enjoy it of course.

Eren: So why don’t you ever fight back? That’s why he treats you like that. Do you want to be on the losing side forever?

Armin: I’m not losing…I’m not running away.

Eren: *triggered*

On the last panel, Armin is thanking Eren, which is basically a confirmation that Eren did start a fight with Jean because of Armin. In the last fake preview, Armin was described as someone who likes manga and anime, so here Armin compares Eren to one of the manga/anime characters he likes - Kick Ass.

Mikasa barges in, as she thinks that Eren is actually her curse/spell that repelled Jean and stopped him from hitting on her. And Eren is confused by what he just heard. He could be confused by what both Mikasa and Armin just said, I guess that’s left for reader’s interpretation.

To me this fake preview is obviously centered between Eren and Armin, while Mikasa is kinda like the third wheel, so very similar to what we have in cannon :P

Quiet As A Mouse

A/N: Warning; crude langue. But, its a Shameless imagine staring Mickey, so….

*Eight years ago*

An eight year old Mickey Milkovich ran from the sound of sirens and police calling after him. He didn’t realize he had left the familiar area until he got the chance to stop and breath.

“Where the fuck am I?” he muttered to himself.

“Compass street.”

“Fuck!” he jumped and looked up to see a girl his age sitting ontop of the wall he had stopped to lean on. “Don’t do that!”

“You’re not from around here are ya?” she cocked her head.

“Mind your own fuckin’ business.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” she jumped down, landing on her feet in front of him. Getting a closer look at her, he could see her stick straight blonde hair and green eyes. He could also see her clothes; the nice blouse and jeans looking far fancier than his clothes. Crap, he must be on the north side.

Despite the obvious differences between them, the girl held out her hand. “Claire Francis.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow at her. Either this girl was too stupid to know he was south side trash, or she just didn’t care. The money he just stole was on the fist one.

Still, he had lost the cops, so he decided to humor her and shook her hand. “Mickey Milkovich.”

“Like Mickey Mouse?”

Mickey grimaced and yanked his hand away. “Don’t ever call me that.”

“Okay. I’ll just call you Mouse.”


*Seven years ago*

Mickey wasn’t sure how the rich girl had become glued to his side, but she had.

Once you put aside the fact that she was from the north side, she wasn’t actually all that bad. She wasn’t snobby like other rich folk and she didn’t seem to mind getting into trouble with Mickey all the time.

She still called him ‘Mouse’, but he made up for it by calling her ‘Bear.’ Well, it had started as ‘Claire-bear’, but when she made the same face he had at being called Mickey Mouse, he saw an opening and ran with it.

Claire was over at his house so much she practically lived there. She got along pretty well with his siblings – his bothers liked to baby her and Mandy liked to steal her away from him, delighting in having another girl to spend time with.

But there was one common question on every Milkovich’s mind: Why the fuck would someone as well off as Claire Francis want to spend every waking moment at their house with people like them?

They only asked her about a million times. Each. No matter which sibling had posed the question, the answer was always the same:

“I like it here. You and your family make me feel safe.”


*Six years ago*

“Hey siblings, look at my wad a cash!” Jamie exclaimed as he waltzed into the living room. “Admire the wad.”

“Whoa, where the fuck you get that?” Iggy asked, trying to reach for it but it was held out of his reach.

“Probably whored himself out.” Mickey joked.

“Like anybody would fuck Jamie.”

All the boy’s eyes snapped to her, stunned.

“You guys heard that right?” Iggy asked.

“You bet your fuckin’ ass I did, our little Claire just swore!”

“I’m so proud of you Bear!” Mickey made a show of dramatically throwing his arms around her.

“Mouse, get off’a me!” she shoved him into the other side of the couch.


*Five years ago*

Claire Francis might as well have been Claire Milkovich at this point. Word had gotten around that Mickey had a best friend who did everything with him. Word had also gotten around that she was under the same promise as the rest of the Milkovich siblings: you mess with one, the rest are coming after you.

One could argue that Mickey and his family were a bad influence on Claire, but she was just as up for robbing convenience stores and punching douche bags as the rest of them.

Not to say that she wasn’t rubbing off on them as well. The house was in much better order, they didn’t go out to bust skulls for the sake of busting skulls – much – and there always seemed to be a stock of Claire’s favorite snacks in the kitchen.

As her best friend, Mickey had developed a soft spot for her – not that he’d ever admit that. But he was nicer with her, smiling instead of cursing and yelling.

Which was why, when she had come into his room and flopped down on his bed, clearly upset, he didn’t instantly ask who he needed to kill.

“What’s the matter, Bear?” he said instead.

“…I dunno where my dad is….”


*Four years ago*

To say that Claire’s family was a touchy subject was an understatement.

She didn’t like talking about them. Period. Every time any of them tried to ask, they’d get yelled at. Over the years, the Milkovichs had just stopped bringing it up all together.

“Ugh, I hate science.” Claire dropped her head onto her textbook.

“Then quit studying.” Mickey shrugged, spinning in his desk chair.

“What part of ‘big test worth 20% of our grade’ do you not understand?” she raised her head to look at him.

“The 20% part.” He said sarcastically. “You know I fucking stink at math.”

She snickered. “Well I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful life as a pimp, but not many people take girl criminals seriously.”

“Then I’ll bash their heads in.” Mickey said simply.

“Why is that your answer to everything?”


*Three years ago*

About an hour after Mickey had left Kash and Grab without paying – again – the door opened once more to a young blonde girl counting out a large wad of cash.

“Here ya go.” she plopped it on the counter, drawing the attention of Kash and Ian, who had just started working there last month.

“What’s this for?” Kash frowned.

“”Mickey. He’s been goin’ a little nuts her lately, and the last thing I need is for him to land his ass in juvy again.” she shrugged. “Plus, I got money, might as well spend it on my best friend. Though to be fair, either of you –” she looked between Kash and Ian. “Tell him about this, I will come after you with a crowbar.” she smiled as though she hadn’t just threatened them. “Well I’ve done my civic duty. Good day to you both.”


*Two years ago*

Claire continued to pay for what Mickey took from the store without his knowledge. It wasn’t like it was a bother; money was something she had plenty of. But Mickey and his family had no interest in ‘charity.’ Which is why they didn’t know.

Ian got used to seeing her in the store. She was nice, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why she cared about Mickey Milkovich so much. It took a while before he actually talked to her, but his curiosity eventually got to him.

“How come you always pay for what Mickey takes anyway?” He asked one night when she’d come just before he got off work. He’d run run after her walking down the cold street next to her, not sure where they were going. “What’s he ever done for you?”

“Gallagher right?” he nodded. “Your family’s got it tough, but you all care about each other yeah?”


That’s what he’s done for me.”


*One year ago*

Claire practically lived at the Milkovich house. Practically being the operative word. She still had to go home every night, though she was always reluctant to do so.

But she had to, so she did.

“Hey, Claire gone?” Jamie asked.

“Yup.” Mickey flopped on the couch. “Just got back from walkin’ her home. You know I’ve never actually seen the inside of her house.”

“You met her parents?”

“With how much she hates talkin’ about ‘em? What the fuck do you think?”

Jamie chuckled and shook his head. “Man, I hope we ain’t screwin’ that girl up.” he took a sip from his beer.

“What do you mean?” Mickey frowned.

“Well you brought home this sweet and innocent north side girl, and now look at her.”

“She’s tough. What’s wrong with that?”

Jamie only laughed, gulping his beer.

Mickey’s temper flared and he stood up. “Answer me, what the fucks wrong with that?”

“The fact that the next time you land yourself in juvy, she’s gonna be in the cell next to you, that’s what the fucks wrong with that.”

“Then she’ll have me to make sure no douche bags go after her, won’t she?” Mickey exclaimed. “Don’t say stuff like that man! She’s fuckin’ family!”



“We’re back!” Mickey called as he threw open the front door to his home.

“Hey Mick.” his brother Iggy waved, busy lighting a cigarette.

“Hey, uh Claire’s here.” he nodded at the blonde teenager who had come in behind him.

“When is she not here?” Iggy shrugged.

“He’s got a point.” Claire nodded. “I’m thirsty. Ya got any beer?” she walked into the kitchen, only to jump back when Mandy came flying through the back door in tears. She ran past her family up the stairs to her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Everyone’s eye followed after, until the boys turned their’s to Claire.

Getting the message quickly, she huffed. “You guys are pathetic.” she pushed past them and followed Mandy up to her room. “Mans?” she knocked on the door. “I’m commin’ in.”

Mandy was crying into her pillow when Claire shut the door behind her. She came to sit next to her on the bed and rubbed at her back.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

“Ian Gallagher is what happened!” she suddenly shot up, making Claire jump back.

“What did Ian Gallagher do?”

“I was tryin’ to be nice, I was over at his house –” Mandy threw herself at Claire, her arms hitting her stomach. Claire hissed and Mandy jumped back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Claire said quickly.

“Claire, are you hurt?” Mandy pulled up her shirt slightly to reveal a pattern of bruises across the skin. “Who the fuck did that?!”

“F-forget that, we need to figure out this Ian thing.”

“Forget that, we need to figure out this Claire thing.”

She gave a laugh that sounded forced even to her. “Mans, there’s no Claire thing, I’m the same Claire I’ve always been.”

“The Claire you’ve always been would know to come to us if someone was hurting you!” she exclaimed. “In fact –” she stood and ran for the door.

“Mandy!” Claire exclaimed, running after her.

The living room was already irrupting in screams by the time she made it down there. Claire couldn’t make out who was saying what, but the room felt smaller than usual.

“All of you shut the fuck up!” she finally exploded. “I can’t understand you when you all talk at once!”

“Bear, what the fuck is Mandy talking about?” Mickey demanded.

Claire swallowed. “That depends. What she say?”

“She came down here yellin’ that someone’s been hurtin’ you. But you’d tell us if that was true, right?” Silence. “Right?!

“Mouse, not everybody gets to punch away their problems, okay?”

“Bear –”

“I gotta go…”

Mickey ran out after her onto the cold street, not even noticing that his coat was still inside.


“Lemme go!”

“No!” he ran up to her and caught her arm. He saw her wince and was quick to push up her sleeve. Several bruises of varying color were scattered up and down her arm. One looked suspiciously like a hand print. “So its true….” Claire pulled her arm away and pulled her sleeve back down. “Fuck…”

“Its fine…” she said softly.

“No its fuckin’ not Claire!” Mickey exclaimed. “Why the fuck would you not tell me about this?”

“Because there’s nothing you can do!”

“I can bash the bastard’s fuckin’ brains out!”

“No you can’t!”

“Why the hell not?!”

“Because those bastards are my parents!”

Well that certainly shut him up.

Claire chocked on a sob and plopped down on the curb outside the Milkovich house. Still in shock, Mickey sat down next to her.

“….You wanna know why I’m over here all the time?” she said once she found the air to speak. “Its because you guys have everything I’ve ever wanted. Ya know, you care about each other, and you’re always there for each other no matter how much you screw up, I wanted that….” tears slid down her cheeks. “My mom left when I was six. I-I haven’t heard from her in a long time. My dad, he, he drinks a lot. Sometimes he isn’t home for days….” she rubbed at her eyes. “One time…I couldn’t have been older than eleven…He brings home a woman. Says she’s my new mom.” she scoffed. “Certainly doesn’t act like it….” she ran her fingers over her coat sleeve.

“…Claire….” Mickey pulled her into his arms and let her cry into his shoulder. “Its okay Bear, its okay…..”

Part Two

When your heart is a stranger

[A/N: Lucifer. Missing moments during 2x13. Deckerstar because of course. Title taken from the song of the same name by Friends in Paris aka the last song in the episode.]

She’s visibly shaking as she takes off her sweater.

“What on earth are you doing?” He asks, alarmed as he reaches out a hand to stop her.

“Lucifer, no one’s going to look twice at me if I’m wearing a blood soaked shirt.”

He looks down at her, standing in front of him clad only in black jeans and a plain black bra. It must say something about the progression of their relationship that she doesn’t even shy away from his gaze. It must say something more about how utterly rattled he is by the poison coursing through her veins that he doesn’t even think to stare.

Instead, he simply looks her in the eye and raises a brow. That it’s neither lecherous nor teasing comes as a surprise to them both.  

“Well, they’re certain to look at least three times at you if that’s what you’re planning on wearing.”

She tilts her head up at him, somehow manages to give the impression of rolling her eyes even as the corners of her mouth turn up.

“Though I’d say anyone would look at least twice at you even if you were wearing a paper bag,” he says, mostly to distract himself from the way the small upturn of lips tugs at the corners of his heart. He shrugs and tries for a teasing smile. “More so, I wager, depending on the size of the bag.”

She grins at him, though the movement is wan and lopsided.

“Have any of those lying around for me?”

He can tell she says it mostly for his benefit, which means he must be much worse at hiding his panic than he thought. He tries to school his face into something approaching nonchalant as he watches her shake out her jacket and sling it around her shoulders. The effect is immediately, absurdly attractive.

Except that his entire focus is stuck on how sallow her skin looks in the moonlight, how he can feel the heat emanating off of her despite the fact that she’s shivering. So instead of giving voice to the half dozen overtly affectionate phrases he can feel in back of his throat, he shrugs out of his jacket and moves behind her to help her into it.

“Lucifer - .”

“Detective,” he says, the word dangerously close to a plea, “as radiant as you are and as cool as your jacket looks, it seems to do very little in terms of warmth. No one is going to approach you if you continue to shiver like that.”

Truthfully, he assumes at least a half dozen men would approach her in any state of dress - or undress, as it were - shivering or no. Which she must know, too, the way that she’s looking at him. After a long moment, she sighs and removes the dark leather jacket from around her shoulders, thrusting it towards him and threading her arms into the sleeves of his jacket instead. Once she’s completely wrapped in it, she turns around and flings her arms out wide.

“How do I look?”

A shiver lances through her before he can reply.

He frowns and steps forward to button up the jacket, trying not to think about how close she is, how much he simply wants to wrap her in his arms.

For - what reason? No other he can discern other than the pleasure of being close to her.

The thought brings a furrow between his brows. Closeness for it’s own sake is a new desire for him. It’s disconcerting, having spent so long carefully cataloging every type of desire, to suddenly be confronted with a new one.

He finishes the last button and steps back, glancing at the full length of her. The sleeves fall past her hands, a testament to his long frame in comparison to her small one. She glares at the sleeves as though they’ve done something to personally offend her. The movement of her brows and crinkling of her nose filling him with an absurd sort of longing. He gives a slight shake of his head as he steps in closer to her once again, the elegant taper of his fingers folding up the ends of the sleeves, careful to touch her without really touching her.

He smooths down the sleeves and looks back up at her.  

“Well?” She asks, arching a brow at him.  

He forces himself to step away from her, his traitorous hands wanting to linger at the ends of his jacket sleeves.

If he were not so preoccupied with the glazed look that keeps creeping towards the irises of her eyes, if he were not so desperately trying to push down the feelings of panic and anger and betrayal, he might make some offhand joke about how good she looks in his clothes. The look on her face tells him that she certainly expects it.

But then a shadow passes over her face and he watches her swallow back her own fear and panic. Suddenly he is just too tired and defeated and utterly destroyed to be anything but honest.

So instead he smiles, the movement soft, its edges brittle.


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hong seol’s wardrobe appreciation: episode 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7
#92 - For isle-of-flightless-josh & vanswritings

Filling the prompts “can you write Single dad Van? Taking his 5, 6 years old daughter on tour with him? And maybe him taking her to meet the reader for the first time?” from @isle-of-flightless-josh and “Can you write about Van as a dad ?” from @vanswritings

Note: ONE FOR MY GIRLSSSS! This is a long one - about 4,500 words. Also, I really like this one so if you do too, pls let me know! 

You walked around the corner of the hallway and stopped in your tracks. There was a child standing in the middle of the room, looking around confused. She was in teeny tiny jeans, and her tshirt had little cats and love hearts printed on it. Her brown hair was a mess and she was barefoot. She looked up at you with big blue eyes. You could see she was upset, but wasn’t at the crying stage just yet.

“Hey honey. Are you okay?” you asked, crouching down but not stepping closer to her. She closed the space herself, walking the few metres to stand right in front of you. She had freckles across her nose.

“I can’t find Daddy,” she told you. Her little face was contorted into the saddest expression you’d ever seen. She was holding her hands together, twisting her fingers in anxiety.

“Okay. We can find him. Can’t have gone far,” you said. She nodded. “Do you know Daddy’s name?”

“Daddy,” she replied. It was cute, but you didn’t laugh at her.

“What do other grown-ups call him?” you tried again.


A convenient coincidence. You hadn’t met him yet, but you knew Van. You were on your way to a meeting to lay out the plan for their tour. Their usual tour manager, Mike, wasn’t available. You were handed Catfish and the Bottlemen, and the opportunity to prove you could run a really fucking successful string of shows.

"I know exactly where he is. Let’s go,” you told her standing up. She held up both hands, and you realised she wanted to be picked up. You complied, and sat her on your hip. She cuddled into you. The kid was clearly used to strangers and you didn’t know if that was good or bad. “What’s your name, honey?”


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Because I’ve made one for Lucaya, one for Bamon and dozens for Sterek, I think it’s about time I make one for Marrish too.

Let me start off my saying that this pairing consist of two amazing characters who I love very much.

Lydia Martin. Absolutely gorgeous, incredibly smart, sassy, slightly intimidating and her ass looks glorious in jeans. Lydia’s been one of my faves since season one, okay? This season, she has admittedly been slacking but the strawberry blonde queen still deserves all the love a man can give her, which is obviously where Jordan Parrish steps in.

My unproblematic son, has literally done nothing wrong ever but he still somehow gets the most hate in the fandom, but let me not go there.

Like these two are practically perfect for one another. Let me list a few reasons why:

1. They are not only connected romantically but they are also connected by death. (Which, if you ask me, is more badass than them being “emotional tethers,” but no shade, no shade.)

I mean we’ve got a hellhound

…and a banshee.

I mean, I really don’t think it gets cooler than that. This literally needs no explanation.

2. Parrish helped Lydia become stronger physically and helped her unlock a new ability.

We all know Lydia Martin was always a strong-minded character, and for all we know, she could probably throw a punch or two even before Parrish, but after training with Parrish, Lydia learned to defend herself in ways she couldn’t before. This indirectly helped her learn how to fight using the vibrations from  her screams.

Jordan played a major role in Lydia’s physical/supernatural growth. He assisted her in the strengths he knew she secretly had, kept faith and eventually, it paid off.

3. The way he looks at her like she’s not simply a star, or the moon, but the entire galaxy.

My heart. If any guy looked at me like that ever I would melt.

4. Okay, but Parrish was afraid of himself when he first discovered he was a hellhound. The guy wanted nothing to do with himself because of it, but he actually allowed himself to transform into his supernatural self to save Lydia.

(I couldn’t find another gif, but creds to whoever made this.)


Parrish saved Lydia. I repeat, Parrish saved Lydia, Lydia “Stiles saved me” Martin be damned, because Stiles wasn’t the one who set himself on fire and dragged you out of Eichen, boo. JORDAN PARRISH DID THAT.

5. The scene that literally snatched my fangirl soul straight from my body and handed it over to Marrish.

If anyone is gonna try to sit there and tell me that Lydia Martin isn’t lowkey into Parrish… well whatever, because I’m not even gonna try to argue with someone as delusional or in-denial as that.

Lydia Martin was blushing, okay? This is a rare occurrence and Lydia Martin doesn’t just blush when she isn’t into someone.

And that little smile, the total heart eyes before she just drops her head because “oh my god, don’t let him see you blush, Lydia. Don’t let him know he has that affect on you. DO. NOT. DO. IT.”

Or maybe I’m reading too into things but, meh, doubt it.

6. Just… Marrish.

They had such great development, and they were still developing.

They were healthy.

Parrish treated her like a good man would. He respected her and her space, believed in her and protected her. He was great to her.

Lydia was always herself around him, trusted him and believed that he was this special and kind guy even when he thought he was a monster. She was there even when he didn’t want her to be because he was afraid of hurting her.

Parrish helped Lydia expand supernaturally and Lydia helped Parrish understand that what he did was simply his duty and that didn’t change the fact that he really is a soft and appreciable person.

Along the way they grew a bond and it was one of the most unique bonds I’ve ever seen on Teen Wolf because of what they first connected over, how they compared an contrasted, and how they grew to become this wonderful pair.

I don’t care about hot and steamy Marrish car or shower sex. I would be perfectly pleased with these two just sitting next to each other and chatting because they have that.

They have that kind of fire that I wouldn’t feel even if Parrish dragged me to the deepest pits of hell.