many late nights

the average gothamite has given up trying to keep track of how many black-haired, blue-eyed kids bruce wayne has acquired at this point. there’s many a late night show that has done those joke out on the street segments where they ask people about some made up new kid he’s adopted and they’ll totally remember him.

other times they challenge people to name them all. very few succeed.

House Rules (M)

Originally posted by nnochu

Summary: Frustration over recent political changes sets you off, and your loving husband helps you see the error of your ways.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 7,492

Warning: Dom!Yoongi, husband/wife relationship, teasing, punishment, edging, ass play, dirty talk, political themes

A/N: I could probably add more warnings. Rest assured, this is not vanilla. Enjoy!

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1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9


Lena Luthor wasn’t usually a nervous person.  She could command an audience, she could dominate the boardroom, but right now?  She was panicking.

Honestly, Lena never really thought her friendship with Kara would reach a stage where she was slowly being introduced into the group, one by one.  Maggie had been first.  She and Lena had long since discussed the whole Maggie-arresting-Lena debacle, Maggie spending the better part of ten minutes apologising before Lena could get a word in edgewise.  She and Maggie had hit it off fairly quickly, bonding over their mutual love of Italian cuisine and various scientific magazines.

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Does anyone else ever wonder how much you may subconsciously exist in other people’s lives? I always wondered if people thought of me when a certain song came on, or if my face was important enough to be looked for in a crowded room. I’ve wondered how many stories and late night conversations my name has been a part of. I wondered if I still even existed in the minds of people that I didn’t speak to anymore. I wonder how many times a day I pass through someone’s mind.
—  is this just me or?

how many buffy marathons? how many times have they pressed cold toes into the other’s leg? how many all-nighters? how many sleep-all-days? how many hugs? how many inside jokes? how many three hour breakfasts? how many memories we don’t know about? how many times has phil stolen cereal? how many late night talks? how many naps on each other’s shoulder?

3

exCUSE ME TUMBLR this should show in the serirei tag like fuck you
im reposting to fix that glitch and extend my offering to all the others starved for serirei stuff

but yea still doing these for sorta counterbalancing/celebrating my fic

so that this isn’t too empty a repost, have a serirei-feelsy song i listened to while drawing:

And I love that here you live with me
Gives me the greatest peace I’ve ever known
‘Cause I’ve been too long a lonely man
Yes, I’ve been too long a rolling stone

[1] [you here] [3] [4]

5 a.m. [Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader]

Summary: Inspired by the one time me and some friends went to McDonald’s at 5 a.m. The reader, craving junk food, drags a sleepy Lin out of bed, way too early in the morning. The breakfast menu isn’t up yet. Chaos and shenanigans ensue.

Word counter: 4,474

Warnings: None, just a really sleepy and grumpy Lin. 

Authors Notes: @sunshinemiranda - i cannot believe i got to the chance to collab with ren again??? you guys, this honestly all stemmed from this really cute story she told me and then me (being pushy and annoying as per usual) needed to get in and then this came into being!! we got so attached, we made headcanons for this, unbelievable. i still want to make a prequel. enjoy.

@alexanderhamllton - i got to collab with my girl again, can you guys BELIEVE??? I am so happy with how this turned out, we made a whole lot of headcanons (hence the mixtapes) and we really hope you guys like it! If you want more from this universe PLEASE let us know, because we would love to wirte that! 

askbox | olivia’s masterlistren’s masterlist


Lin wasn’t expecting his phone to ring at 5 in the morning. He wasn’t expecting anything but a solid sleep that he desperately needed after too many late nights full of work. Funny thing was, life had a screwed up talent at ruining expectations.

His phone lit up in the dark, vibrating against the wooden bedside table with a vicious energy. With a groan, he stabbed a button blindly and brought it to his ear without even bothering to emit a greeting. It was too early for that.

“Lin. Listen, it’s 5 am. You wanna go to McDonald’s with me?”

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For a teenage girl who considers herself to be straight, all the gay ships, fan fiction about them that I read and the questionable ways that everything they do (in the shows or more often fics) excite me, sometimes makes me wonder if I could possibly be swinging in more directions than I think

In Sway when Morse says that the symbol on the wall is an infinity sign & it means the killer isn’t going to stop & goes into all this dramatic detail when it’s just an 8 on it’s side is one of my favourite moments of Morse being Extra

4

“You’re so beautiful, it hurts to look at you”–>a Jancy Grunge/90s AU (credit to @youffievalentine who asked for an as you are and long nights mix)

This is an angsty/emo Jancy. Monster Hunted. Have the Scars. So many late nights awake, making love with such hunger. Felt dangerous to care that much. And then the silence. The arguments. In circles we tied each other. Staring out the window, cold frost on the window pane, knowing this is it. It’s done. But then why, always this longing? It never leaves. What if it will always be like this? And what would be worse. To look at you and feel nothing? Or to look at you and feel everything?

soundtrack: Love Battery, Between the Eyes; Hum, Stars; Nirvana, Love Buzz; Mazzy Star, Rhymes of an Hour.

anonymous asked:

Can you do 53 and 33 for Montgomery de la Cruz?

Hell yeah I can! Also bless your soul for requesting something and giving me something to do ily 💕

33. The door’s locked.

53. Take your shirt off.

The door’s locked,” Montgomery relays apprehensively, his head turning to glance at the girl standing behind him. 

“The fuck you mean it’s locked,” she hisses, pushing past him to see for herself. Sure enough the handle jingles tightly in her hand but does not completely twist. The music is too loud for anyone to hear them pounding on the door. She had come upstairs to take a breather from the party, not to get locked in Jessica Davis’s bedroom with Montgomery De La Cruz. 

“You gonna talk to me now? Ya know, since we’re kind of stuck in here together. Or are you gonna continue to avoid me?” he asks, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I’m not avoiding you,” her eyes drop from his face to the floor, voice wavering. Lying has never been her strong suit.

They had been partnered together for a project in biology, and much to her surprise they got along great. She was cold towards him at first, since her prior interactions with him had been him checking her out in the hallway and her rolling her eyes whenever she caught him, or when she would stumble across him getting aggressive with someone who did or didn’t deserve it. 

She didn’t want to like him. He’s a dick of the douchiest variety. But not always, not all the time. After many late nights of doing research he got comfortable around her and relaxed. He would crack stupid jokes and make lame puns that made her laugh in-spite of herself. He would randomly ask her questions like “what do you think about multiverse theory?” and “What’s the weirdest dream you’ve ever had?” He would let her nap on the couch if she got tired while he continued to search for articles and would wake her up when he came across something that he found particularly exciting. He could be endearing when he wanted to be.

They got close. Closer than she could have anticipated. One night the previous week they were making final edits on the project, laughing about this and that. She can’t remember what he said, but she playfully shoved his chest in response and he nudged her shoulder back and she kicked at his leg and then they were rolling around on the floor when he quietly mumbled, “come here,” and she teasingly responded with, “I don’t think I can really get much closer,” to which he whispered, “I think you can.” And then he kissed her.

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t wondered what it would be like to kiss the infamous Montgomery De La Cruz. He was a prick, but a gorgeous one at that. All of the eye rolls and shit talking in the world couldn’t change the fact that given the opportunity, most of the girls at Liberty High would sell their soul to kiss the devil himself.

It was sweet. He had pulled her flush against his chest and let his hands play at her sides while she climbed onto his lap, resting her one hand at the side of his neck and letting the other run down his arm. It wasn’t what she would have expected. But he wasn’t what she expected either. 

That was all it was. Just one kiss. Nothing more. He didn’t push it further and neither did she. When she pulled away he had this soft smile on his lips and a serene look in his eyes that she had never seen before. He looked so calm, so at peace. And it made her heart melt. 

But he was still Monty, and she knew what everyone in the school thought of him, and what they would think of her if this progressed into anything more than a one time kiss. It was hypocritical, to desire someone but damn anyone who actually got something. Nonetheless, she pulled away. Avoiding him since then. She didn’t want to be the type to care what other people thought, but they could be so damn cruel, and she had kept such a pristine image so far. 

“Seriously?” Monty snaps, pulling her out of her thoughts, “I’m literally the only other person in here and you’re still pretending like I don’t exist.”

“I’m very much aware of your existence,” she quips, sitting on the edge of Jessica’s bed. She notices a variety of colored sharpies on the nightstand.

“You’re just choosing to ignore it,” he rolls his eyes.

“I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?” she raises an eyebrow, feigning casualty. 

He snorts, running a hand through his hair. “I’m all you’ve got right now, so it doesn’t count for much.”

“Didn’t think you’d care all that much,” she shrugs, leaning over to grab the colorful assortment of sharpies.

“I kissed you and then you started avoiding me like the plague. How could I not care?!” his voice raises in exasperation.

“Because you’re you,” her tone is serious as she looks him straight in the eye.

“Yeah, yeah my reputation sucks. I’m awful,” he glowers.

“Only sometimes. You can be sweet when you want to be,” she offers.

“Not sweet enough for it to matter apparently.”

Take your shirt off.”

“What?” he asks, taken aback. This conversation has taken an abrupt turn.

“I’m gonna draw on you,” she shakes the sharpies in her hand, “Gotta pass the time somehow.”

He’s somewhat startled and confused by the request, but his shirt still comes off as he makes his way over to the bed. He lies on his back as she straddles his lap, dragging the tip of a green sharpie down his side. She draws twisting vines with sharp thorns that could tear your skin if you got too close. But she also draws blooming roses that smell so sweet you can’t help but drift closer. It’s dangerous and beautiful, terrifying and inviting. It’s a lot like Monty.

“You’re sending out some mixed signals you know,” he looks up at her as she shades in a petal. One minute she’s ducking around corners to bypass his gaze and the next she’s straddling his half naked body.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, her lip stuck between her teeth in concentration, “I like you, but your reputation is hard to swallow.”

He nods in understanding, watching her use him as a canvas. “Can I draw on you?”

“Sure,” her eyes widen a bit in surprise. “Where?”

“Your back,” he explains as she rolls off him and he sits up, switching places.

She turns away from him, sliding her shirt off and unhooking her bra before laying chest down on the bed. He picks up a sharpie and she feels the cool ink on her skin. A shiver runs down her spine at the sensation. It’s a large design that takes up a majority of the two sides of her back. It feels like he’s drawing wings. 

“Angel wings?” she asks, twisting her head at an attempt to get a look at him.

“Good guess,” he grins, nodding in affirmation. 

“Why?” she laughs, “Cause I’m so etherial?”

“Something like that,” he laughs, his one hand gripping her side tightly to keep her still. She likes the feeling of his skin on hers.

“Can you keep a secret? she asks, biting her lip as she waits for a response.

“What kind of secret?” he asks, sitting back so his weight isn’t holding her down as much.

She rolls over so she’s facing him, reaching up to place one hand at the back of his neck. Her lips press against his in the most inviting way, making his eyes shut instinctively as he leans into it.

“Yeah,” he breathes out heavily, moving to hover over her as his arms wrap around her back to press their bare chests together tightly. “I can keep a secret.”


*Sorry that turned out to be way longer than a drabble, I got a little carried away*

Want a drabble?

7

When your 24-hour Snack Shack is as popular as Filly’s is (it’s the host to many a late-night study session for students looking to cram while slurping on a sugary slushie), you’re going to need a little respite every now and then! That’s why her apartment upstairs is designed to be her little personal paradise of rest and relaxation!

➥ 0796 - 5754 - 498

Everyone remembers how the Dinoco 400 ended but no one remembers that Lee Revkins got ROBBED

Like, if they were midway through the race a few seconds after the previous screencap, and he was leading at lap 59, then he’d more than likely led LOTS of laps and was clearly able to keep pace with the leaders.

Here he is getting swept up in the big crash, which, again, wouldn’t have happened if Chick didn’t punt him out of the lead.

Not even in the top ten on the last lap so yeah, #63 fans must have had a rough night that night.

The light that disappeared

Request:  Hi :) I’d like to request a Jughead x reader. But it’s a bit sad. Like he tells someone about the reader, that she was great and he loves her and stuff. And when the person he’s talking to asks where the reader is, he tells them, that she disappeared a few years ago, but no one really bothered looking for her( for some reason, idk😅) And maybe they could all start to search for her? Thanks already 🤗

A/N: I didn’t even proof read this because I got so emotional writing this. It’s probably not as intense as it felt when I was writing it but bloody hell I feel drained. If you want to get the full I-might-cry-at-any-moment experience I would highly suggest listening to the song Highspeeds by Elliot Moss. I really hope I did this request justice, any feedback would be much appreciated 💓💫 - Axoxo

Originally posted by toqaahmed


Tags: @writers-coffee

Warnings: a very sad Jughead.

Jughead sat, slouched in his chair as he focused intently on trying to quell the tears that were brimming in his icy eyes. Archie, Veronica and Betty were all discussing the most efficient way to get Jughead a girlfriend as Kevin feverishly nodded in agreement.

“You should smile more Jughead, nobody wants to date an angsty emo y’know.”

“Veronica’s right Juggie and you need to get off your laptop more, it makes you look unapproachable!”

“Betty’s right Jug and maybe try and lighten up with the humor, girls don’t like people who joke about death.”

“Yes! You could totally slay if you just put the effort in, after all there’s someone out there for everyone,” Kevin added with terrifying enthusiasm.

Originally posted by riverrdxle

He couldn’t bear it anymore, all of them talking about him as if he were pining for a romantic companion. He didn’t need anyone, he needed her. He slammed his fist down on the table in front of him, silencing his friends but going unnoticed by the rest of his schoolmates that were eating lunch in the courtyard around him. A singular tear escaped from the reddened rim of his eyes and ran down over the purple circles – accumulated after many late nights staring intently at the bright, white illuminated screen of his laptop – beneath and onto his pasty, slightly sunken cheeks. That was what shocked his friends the most. Not his sudden outburst but his sudden revelation of raw emotion. They didn’t dare to move, just awaited an explanation with wide eyes and slackened jaws.

“I don’t need anyone so please just stop. I don’t need to change and I don’t need to impress any girls because somehow I impressed her and she’s all that I want. I don’t know how I did it but I did, I managed to peak the interest of a girl who’s smile made the rays of the sun seem dim and unfulfilling. Then somehow that innocent curiosity turned into something more, something that terrified me so much that I lay in bed at night in my dad’s trailer wondering how I’d let myself fall so hard and cursing myself, knowing how fractured I would be when I hit the ground. Then one night in Pop’s she sat across from me and with tears in her eyes, brows furrowed with sincerity and told me that she wished I could love myself as much as she loved me. She told me that she saw a shooting star the previous night and she had wished upon it but she hadn’t done so in vain, she had wished that I saw myself as she saw me; emotionally strong but with the gentlest touch, harsh but beautifully honest and imperfect but perfect to her. For the first time in my life I saw myself in a different light because she told me to and I clung onto her every word as if I was hanging from the edge of a precipice and they were my lifeline. Then she leant over and placed a kiss on my lips, except it wasn’t just a kiss, it was my salvation. With my lips pressed against hers I felt safe for the first time in my life and at that very moment I welcomed the feeling of falling because I was falling in love with a who’s love was vaster than all of the oceans and who’s kindness melted even the iciest of hearts…” Jughead’s voice trailed off as the growing lump in his throat prevented any more words from escaping.

“Well then where is she?” Veronica asked with raised eyebrows, lacking tact or the ability to mask her apparent confusion and doubt.

“She disappeared,” Jughead began, hoarse voice eliciting a small gasp from each of his companions. “She disappeared and nobody cared but me. They said she’d run away, that it was a common occurrence with girls her age. They said she’d probably found herself an older man, a forbidden relationship and run off with him to indulge in some naïve teenage fantasy but I knew better. I knew she’d never do that; her selflessness wouldn’t allow it. She would have never left knowing the pain it would have caused the people around her…the people closest to her…me. Something happened to her, something terrible and yet everyone just accepted the simple explanation and moved on. I won’t move on. I can’t move on until I know what really happened to her and it’s exhausting.”

Jughead looked up at his friends; Betty was sobbing violently into the sleeves of her pink sweater, Veronica had teary black streaks running down her face and Kevin was dabbing lightly at his eyes with a perfectly folded tissue. Archie placed a calloused hand on his best friends’ slender shoulder and his brown orbs – glistening with unshed tears – met grey ones.


“We’ll find her Jughead, all of us,” He began, auburn brows furrowed with sincerity and concern. “We’re gonna help you find out what happened to her no matter what, okay?”

“She was my everything Arch and nobody cared. Everybody ignored her like she was nothing but when Jason Blossom died the entire town rallied together even though he was an awful person. Nobody even remembers her name…” Jughead spoke in a strangled whisper, tears now flooding down his ghostly face.

“What was her name Jug?” Archie asked gently.

“(Y/N), her name was (Y/N).”

Admit It

Anon Prompt: “Hi, can you do one where Juggie gets really jealous of best friend Y/N because she always goes out but she is just doing it on purpose? Because she likes him? Then they admit their feelings.”

Word Count: 2.2k

Tags: Underage drinking, borderline underage alcoholism, underage sex, smut, porn with plot, swearing. I know you said smut or fluff but there’s going to be smut and angst

A/N: I just wanted to say that I’m really thankful for the kind messages from everyone and for the followers who have been so patient with me. I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’ve also never written heterosexual smut before, so sorry if it sucks!! Smut is in the read more, so don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with smut and non asexual jughead 

Originally posted by bettytail


The people around me cheer as I furiously chug the beer, I’m in a race against Reggie Mantle.
Loser must buy the winner a life time supply of Pop’s whenever they want.

Half of the party seems to be cheering me on, whilst the other cheers for Reggie’s victory; from the corner of my eye, I look over at Reggie who at the wrong time, sucks in air and ends up choking, he spits beer everywhere.
I finish mine and crush the can triumphantly; I smile at Reggie who is wiping beer of his face.

“Good game, Mantle.” I laugh, holding my hand out.

“I can’t believe I lost to a girl.” He huffs, shaking my hand.

“Didn’t you get the memo, Reggie? Chauvinism is dead.” Jughead says, wrapping his arm around me.

“Hey Juggie!” I giggle, the alcohol is going to my head, so is the loud thrum of the music.

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