oh yes this is about their hands

alone-in-madness  asked:

Shawn chocking you or you choking Shawn yes that's all I can think about towards Shawn talk

Fuck.

I know choking ain’t for everybody but… I kinda dig it…

That said, if Shawn were to dip toe into this realm, it would probably be by complete, random, spur of the moment happenstance. And it’d probably be a situation where it’s happening to him. And he’d probably be sheepish and quiet about it, too…

I could imagine him fucking into her so hard and loving the wildness of her reaction. Loving the way that she rocks her hips up to meet his and the way that she digs her heels into his ass and especially (surprisingly) the way that she reaches out to wrap shaky fingers around the column of his throat… He’d have her completely spent and thoroughly fucked out of her mind, barely even all there as she starts to apply pressure with her fingers, little by little by little, allowing him a preview of the power behind her touch… and I think he might surprise even himself when, the very second his airflow was actually restricted (even just the smallest, tiniest bit), he tenses up and and cums hard, proving to both her and himself that yeah, maybe he does have that kink…

Putting Lipstick On A Pig

by reddit user Pippinacious

Except for the whole murder thing, Courtney James seemed like a lovely young woman. She was bright, articulate, a dedicated college student and well liked waitress at a popular restaurant.

I met her when she was sitting in an interrogation room at the precinct. She was a bit on the larger side, dressed conservatively in pastel colors and minimal makeup, and when I came in, she introduced herself with a polite smile, as if we were meeting for a job interview as opposed to a police investigation. She had declined to have an attorney present, so I got right to business.

Keep reading

Hey, it’s me again, subverting your favorite tropes,

So we all know Yuuri Katsuki would be the kind of person who wouldn’t tell you he didn’t like mushrooms and would let you feed him mushrooms three meals a day rather than actually let the words “I don’t like mushrooms” emerge from his mouth

Because Anxiety™ am I right folks

But here we can flip this on its head.

Yuuri loves mushrooms.

Mushrooms are Yuuri’s favorite part of any given dish, which is why he separates them out from the rest usually and eats them last. That’s some excellent fungus right there.

Along comes Viktor Nikiforov, he of the lust-inspiring good looks and astoundingly poor social intuition. He watches the Love of His Life pick the mushrooms meticulously out of his dish and says, “Are you going to eat those?”

Yuuri Katsuki is still in a state of complete and utter stupor at this point, because within the last week two discrete–not discreet, mind you, which they are the opposite of–Russians have arrived uninvited to his fucking house, ingratiated themselves to his family an are currently dismantling the very threads of his existence. One of these Russians is his longtime crush (who is currently occupying most of his time lounging around in a provocative manner all but holding a sign over his crotch that reads Reserved seat for Yuuri Katsuki but Yuuri is a little bit feelings-blind so he’s reading it as Look how beautiful and untouchable I am! If you stare at me too long I will literally scar you like the sun and also I CAN HEAR EVERY THOUGHT ABOUT ME YOU’VE HAD SINCE AGE TWELVE! I’M DISGUSTED!) and the other is the actual inspiration for the My Chemical Romance song Teenagers.

So Yuuri can’t quite be blamed for saying no when Viktor Nikiforov asks him if he’s going to eat his favorite part of the dish.

“I’ll take them, then,” Viktor says, and picks them off his plate.

HOW ROMANTIC, Viktor’s brain screams.

Thus begins Yuuri’s mushroomless existence. Viktor loves Yuuri and wants him to Be Happy Always, and so makes a point to ensure that a mushroom never even so much as winks at his fiance ever again. He doesn’t put them in food and always ensures that, if he’s ordering something for Yuuri, it’s without mushrooms. When a dish shows up with mushrooms in it, Viktor deftly picks them out.

“Excuse me, my husband does not like mushrooms,” Viktor says so often that it could be his catchphrase, or perhaps a nickname. Viktor “My Husband Does Not Like Mushrooms” Nikiforov.

This continues until they return to Hasetsu for a visit and Yuuri’s entire family watches as Viktor picks every mushroom off Yuuri’s plate.

It’s a dish with a lot of mushrooms in it.

“You must really like mushrooms,” Mari says to Viktor.

“Oh, not particularly,” Viktor says, picking away. “But Yuuri hates them, so.”

“Oh no,” Yuuri whispers.

“Um,” says Mari.

“That’s funny!” says Hiroko, smiling and leaning her head on her hand. “Yuuri used to love mushrooms! He stole them while I was chopping them.”

“Wow that’s weird,” Viktor says.

“Yeah,” Yuuri mumbles. “Haha, weird. Yeah, weird.”

Viktor slowly turns his head. His plate is now Mount Mushroom. “Kitten,” he says slowly.

“Ahhhh,” Yuuri whimpers.

“Do we need to have that conversation about communication again?” Viktor asks.

“AHHHHH.” Yuuri attempts to crawl under the table.

The answer, for the record, is yes. They’ve had this conversation fourteen times since Barcelona.

“Why am I like this,” Yuuri whispers to himself later that night. Viktor kisses his shoulder and, when they get back to Russia, makes him a pot of Stroganoff that is roughly 89% mushrooms.

anonymous asked:

Remus is the reason Hogwarts limits what animals you can bring. Whenever they're about to get caught, James, Sirius and Peter all change to their animagus forms, leaving Remus caught red-handed with a stag, a dog, and a rat. After listening to Remus sigh long-sufferingly for the eighth time, "yes Professor, that is my stag. No Professor, I don't know why he's got his head stuck in the bannister," McGonagall promptly bans anything besides owls, cats, and toads.

OH MY GOD YES

I’m cackling

anonymous asked:

I know we all love the hand clench bc it's perfect but can we also talk about the eyelash flutters when she grabs/kisses his hands????? It's like he can't believe his eyes and he's trying to make sure it's real- I just- it's too much

oh my god yes we definitely don’t talk enough about this

i love the subtle way matthew played darcy. it’s all about the little things…

the way he quickly glances at the book lizzy’s holding

how he fidgets when he’s trying to flirt

the eyelash flutters when he’s trying to figure lizzy out

the many times he glances at lizzy’s mouth during the rain scene

this quick smile

Our Little Secret-Part One

Summary: After a hunt and quite a few drinks the boys learn that you aren’t as ‘experienced’ in one department as they thought you were. Dean thinks he can rectify that

Series Masterlist

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Square Filled/Kink: Oral Fixation for @spnkinkbingo

Word Count: 4700

Warnings: Smut, oral (male and female receiving), insecure reader, language

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. This is the first part of what I hope is a lengthy and smutty series. Any feedback is always appreciated. This is also for @emilywritesaboutdean and @wheresthekillswitch ‘s Do It Like TFW Challenge (The gif is near the bottom)

A thank you to my beta @ayeronda for betaing at an ungodly hour and being so wonderful.


It’s been a long ass day and an even longer hunt. You were more than happy to be sitting on Dean’s bed in the boys’ motel room, sipping on your second, or maybe it is the third beer. And that was just here, it wasn’t counting the four or five shots you had had down at the bar. So now you were here and Sam was riding Dean hard about his strikeout at the bar.

“Dude, you were never going home with her.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

You can’t help but chuckle, “What? Two whole minutes?”

Keep reading

Reaper: Chapter Two

His hand was warm.

Isa pulled me to my feet. “Just a second,” he said, scanning the area.

I didn’t feel dead. I could feel the wind on my skin and my heart hammering in my chest. My hands were trembling with adrenaline. That had to be a good sign.

“Kat,” Isa said, startling me. I had been staring at my hands so intently that I hadn’t noticed he was holding out his hand to me again.

“I’m not dead,” I informed him a bit giddily, taking his hand again.

Isa didn’t smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled. “This way,” he said, pointing with his free hand. I looked, but he seemed to be pointing towards thin air.

He led me away from the broken highway and my silver car, wading through the faded brown grass. After about twenty yards he stopped and turned to me.

“I need you to think of a place,” he said, “Any place.”

My mind went blank. “Any place?”

“Anywhere. Visualize it in your mind. Got it?” I hesitated before nodding. “Good. Now we’re going to take one more step together.”

I looked at the grass before us. It didn’t look any different from any other patch of grass we’d passed. I drew a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“And go.”

As we stepped forward together, the air went…soft. Like a deep, thick mattress. Like holding an overripe peach in your hands and slowly pressing in your thumbs, letting them sink into it. Not hot or cold or anything like that. Just soft.

Less than a moment passed before the softness was gone; I didn’t even have time to blink. We were still standing in the grass by the highway. I could see my car close by and the mountains looming in the distance. But the edges of the mountains were vague and unclear, and the light that filtered through the clouds was tinted red, almost as though it was shining through rose-colored glass. More telling was the quiet. The wind had disappeared, and the grass was silent and still.

“You know,” Isa commented, “I think people usually choose somewhere other than the place they’re currently standing.”

“I panicked,” I responded, taking in everything around me, “Which seems to be my basic state of existence at this point.”

Unlike everything else, Isa seemed more real than ever. The basics were still the same: pale, ashy skin stretched tight over his body, white hair, and jet black eyes set deep in their sockets. His fingers and limbs were overly long for his body, and he was wearing a black hooded coat with loose sleeves, grey pants, boots, and a t-shirt with a vintage ad for spam.

However, his skin lacked the translucent quality it usually had, and his shadow -

“You have a shadow,” I blurted out, “You have a - the grass. You’re actually crushing down the grass.” I knelt down and confirmed for myself that yes, the grass could be pressed down, and then I turned around and thrust out my hand. The softness was waiting just feet behind me. “Where are we?”

“This is an inbetween place,” he replied, watching as I shuffled a few feet to the side and stuck out my hand again, “We needed somewhere safe to talk.”

I pulled my hand from the softness and tried again. “And the deserted highway wasn’t cutting it?”

Isa pressed his lips together. “It’s not humans that I’m worried about overhearing us.”

I paused mid thrust. “Oh.” The fear which had almost been forgotten in my wonder flared up.

“Here,” Isa said, and he took my hand again, leading me around whatever invisible portal we had passed through. Almost mindlessly I walked towards the car.

“Are we safe here, then?”

He shrugged. “Should be. I don’t think I was followed - there’s no good reason anyone would, really, I’m not a major player. But it’s not wise to talk about these things in the open on principle.”

We reached the car, and I stretched out my hand to touch it. It was solid under my fingers, but the numbers on the license plate were scrambled, changing every time I blinked. 

Isa stopped me as I went to open the driver’s side door.

"I just wanted to see if it would start,” I said.

Isa shook his head. “It might, but it’s not wise to go through any doors here. There’s no telling where you might end up.”

A little disappointed, I perched on the trunk instead, pulling up my legs and wrapping my arms around them. Isa stood before me, hands shoved in his pockets.

“So…” I started, Isa looking at me expectantly, “Are you an angel?”

Isa burst out laughing. It was an odd sound, out of place in the unnatural silence of the inbetween.

“No, and I wouldn’t let an angel hear you say that if I were you. Actually, it would probably be fine; most angels I’ve met are quite nice. But trust me, if you ever meet an angel, you’ll know it. People tend to fall over when they show up.”

“Okay, not an angel.” There went half the theories I’d ever read. “Then what are you? And don’t say a reaper.”

“I never really liked that name anyway,” he replied. He kicked the ground for a moment, thinking. “I’m the guardian of your soul. I’ve been with you since your soul first joined your body. I will ensure no one touches it until your life is complete.”

“…And when my life is complete?”

“I take your soul,” he answered nonchalantly, “ - Kat?”

I rolled off the car, running into the field, running towards the softness.

Maybe he wasn’t an angel after all. But there were other theories about the reapers.

“Kat?” he called after me, “I’m not taking your soul here and now.”

I stumbled to a stop in a panic. The grass all looked the same. Whatever gateway we’d walked through wasn’t marked by any kind of visual cue. I was effectively trapped.

“Maybe you’re not taking it now,” I said as I turned, arms tight by my sides, hands clenched, “but you’re going to.”

Isa walked towards me slowly, “That probably wasn’t the best way for me to phrase that.” I shrank away from him instinctively, and he sighed. “This would be easier if I was an angel. They’re good at explaining things. Can I try again?”

He waited until I nodded hesitantly.

“I’m the guardian of your soul. I was bound to you the moment your soul entered your body. While you live, I’ll protect your soul from harm. When your days are complete, I’ll carry your soul to its rest. I’m not going to kill you, consume your soul, drain your life force, steal your corporeal form,  keep you in a tortured disembodied state devoid of all sensation, or anything else of that kind.”

I stared at him. “That’s…really specific.”

“But you’re not running this time,” Isa noted.

“If you’re lying, I’m screwed anyway,” I retorted.

“Ah.” Isa’s body seemed to droop ever so slightly. “I liked it better when you just trusted me.”

“And I liked it better when I wasn’t afraid I was going crazy,” I snapped. I shut my eyes and paused, willing myself to breath deeply. “I’m tired. I’m stressed and exhausted and I have no clue what’s going on. You disappeared for two weeks and I didn’t even know reapers could do that, and now you’re talking and you touched me and I’m somehow not dead and we’re in a freaking alternate dimension or something and it’s just a bit much.”

“I didn’t intend to let things get this out of hand,” Isa admitted, “I only thought I’d be gone for a few hours at most.”

Finally, the question that had been burning in my chest for weeks. “What happened? Why did you leave?”

“There was a reaper who needed help. He and his human were being targeted, and they weren’t going to make it.”

“Are they okay?”

His face brightened a bit. “They are. The woman died and he was able to deliver her soul safely.”

“Your definition of a happy ending and mine are a little different,” I muttered, “What did they need protection from?”

Isa looked grim. “There are many beings who would want to misuse a human soul,” he said softly, “And there are others who would like nothing more than to see a reaper give into the temptation to take advantage of their charge. Some of these were attacking this reaper in the hope of either claiming the soul for themselves or, if nothing else, forcing the reaper into a position where he drew on the soul for power. I thought they’d back off once I came to his aid, but they fought until the end.”

Behind Isa’s shoulder, I saw something like a dark smudge on the horizon where the mountains met the sky. A horrible sense of wrongness settled in my gut.

“I didn’t mean to leave you for so long,” he continued, “And it shouldn’t -”

“Isa,” I interrupted, pointing urgently, “There’s something here.”

Isa turned to look. The smudge was getting larger. “No,” he said, “No no no no!” He grabbed my hand.

“We need to move now!” He took off across the field, dragging me behind him. We passed through the softness and the world shifted, the rosy light turning grey. We sprinted back to my car.

I looked back towards the mountains. I couldn’t see anything.

“Get in the car,” Isa ordered, and I hurried to do so. After buckling myself in, I looked up to see Isa pull out a gun.

“Drive home as fast as you can,” he said, ignoring my shock, “And don’t stop until I say so.” With that, he swung himself onto the roof of my car.

I turned on the car and made a U-turn, pressing the pedal to the floor. A minute later gun shots rang out, and I looked into the mirror to see something burst through the portal and hurtle down the broken highway in pursuit.

I Don’t Mean It (pt 9)

Taehyung ran as fast as his legs could take him, not worrying about who noticed him this late at night on the streets. He couldn’t believe how all these events had played off. He couldn’t believe he didn’t trust you, especially when you told him that you didn’t do it. The image you crying kept replaying in his head as he ran towards the building. He was suddenly scared to approach you. 

He thought back to the conversation you both had months and months ago. You both sat on the couch, while you had the TV on in the background as the two of you chatted. That was the first night that Taehyung realized he had fallen in love with you. The way he was so comfortable to open up with you and how you felt the same about him. It was like a connection he never felt before. 

He remembered you saying that you value trust as one of the single most important things in your life. And once that trust was broken, it would never be whole again. 

Not only did he probably break your trust, but he felt like he broke you too. He remembered the words he yelled at you, now realizing how hurtful they really must have been. 


As soon as Taehyung reached his building, he was waiting for the elevator with what little patience he had left. Seeing as you both lived on the 8th floors, he thought the elevator was his best bet but it seemed to be taking longer than usual. Just as he was about to start running up the stairs, the door belonging to the landlord on the first floor opened. 

Out came a rather old man and Taehyung knew he had to at least say hello, even though he wanted nothing more than to run up. 

“Oh hi there Taehyung…you look rather out of breath,” said the landlord

“Oh…haha yeah sort of” said Taehyung, awkwardly fiddling with his hands, waiting to be excused.

“Oh..you must have been helping your neighbor bring boxes down!” said the landlord. This caught Taehyung’s attention. 

“N-neighbor?” Taehyung asked.

“Oh yes! That lovely girl next door to you boys. She said she was moving soon” said the landlord.

Taehyung didn’t even say anything before he rushed up the stairs, knowing he had to stop you at all costs. He ran to your door and before he knocked, he tried to catch his breath and tried to think of what he was going to say to you. He knew earning your forgiveness was no easy task, but you would always forgive him in the end…right? You both had a few small arguments here and there but you had always forgiven him without much effort on his part. Would this time be any different?

Taehyung finally knocked on the door, anxiously waiting for you to open the door. While waiting, he thought back to all the times you opened the door for him with the biggest smile on your face. Was he wrong for wanting that again?

He could hear the door unlock and he let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Thankfully you were home. 

“You’re ear–” you said, but stopped as you finally saw who was at the door. You were expecting the movers to come by today, but you were surprised to see Taehyung at the door. You gulped, wondering if he had wanted to come to yell at you some more. 

“You..you’re moving?” Taehyung asked. He didn’t mean to start with that, but he couldn’t help himself when he noticed all the cardboard boxes that stood behind you.

You only stare at Taehyung, confused with the tone of his voice. You didn’t know what to say. “Y-yes” was all you could bring out.

“w-why?” he continued.

“I don’t have any reason to stay anymore” you said, tears starting to well up in your eyes again. Before he could say anything else, you tried closing the door on him, but he grabbed the door and pushed it back. He let himself in and you stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Y/N.. I’m so sorry” he said looking directly at you. His tone was guilt ridden. He almost couldn’t meet your eyes after noticing the tears, but he knew he had to stand his ground.

“For what exactly?” you say emotionless. If it weren’t for your tears, you could have been mistaken as a statue. 

“For..what I said before. I- I don’t know what I was thinking” Taehyung started, finally tearing away from your eyes as it was getting to much to take.

“You were thinking that I was some low-life scum who was only friends with you to make a few bucks” you said, finally letting the tears flow freely down your slightly rosy cheeks.

“No..I don’t think that of you. I didn’t mean it” Taehyung started pleading as he inched closer to you.

“No, you did mean it” You said, backing away when you noticed him trying to get closer to you.

“Y/N, please, i’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said the things I did…I’m so sorry” Taehyung continued. His stomach started to turn when he thought that there was the chance that you didn’t forgive him this time around. “I heard my manager. He said he made the whole thing up to keep us apart, Y/N please….” he tried again.

You snickered back. “So…you only believe me now because you heard the truth from your manager….otherwise you still wouldn’t have taken my word. Am I right?” you said, with a sudden anger surging through your veins.

Taehyung thought about it for a while, and he knew that a part of what you said was true. He didn’t believe you when you said you didn’t do it, and he knew that he didn’t plan to hear you out either. But a part of him also wanted to keep on holding onto you, even if you had betrayed him.

When it took him a while to reply, you continued “I guess I have my answer….please leave” you said, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

“No, Y/N please hear me out. Please, I’m begging you. Just forgive me this one time please? You’ve always forgiven me in the past, Y/N please” he pleaded, tears threatening to form in his eyes.

“You didn’t want to hear what I had to say, which I should do the same for you?” you asked as you glared back at him.

“I was dumb, Y/N you know me. I always make stupid mistakes, but you always found it in your heart to forgive me. Please, just this one last time, forgive me. I don’t want to lose you….There’s so much I wanted to tell you….” he said as his voice cracked a little at the last part.

You didn’t like seeing Taehyung like this. You always had wanted him to have that box smile on his face, and be the little ball of happiness that he was. But you didn’t know if you could ever be the same with him again. If he doubted you then, what’s to keep him from doubting you in the future? He broke your heart before you even had the chance of giving it all to him, before he even knew that it already belonged to him in the first place. Now, you were just trying to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart, hoping that one day it will be like it was before. 

The eerie silence once again filled the room. Taehyung tried to walk to you again, hoping that he just had you in his arms, you could find it in yourself to forgive him. But you stuck your hand out, signaling him to stop.

“No. Leave.” you said firmly.

“Y/N…p-ple” he started

“LEAVE” you screamed back. You let out your sobs and fell to your knees, not having any more energy to continue.

Taehyung wanted nothing more than to run to you and hold you. To let you cry into his arms as he would probably cry back into yours. But he knew that you weren’t going to let him near you, even in your current position. He didn’t want to, but he walked out of your door, finally letting the tears fall. His vision blurred from the tears as he walked back to his own apartment, just a few feet down.

He walked into the silent and dark room, not bothering to turn on the lights. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, but he already knew that it was just the boys looking for him. 

Eventually, the phone stopped buzzing after a few minutes and Taehyung plopped himself onto his bed, finally letting his own tears fall freely.

He just lost you. He lost the girl who he feel so deeply in love with. He didn’t even have the chance to tell you how much you meant to him, or how much he wanted to make you his. Instead, he took the heart he wanted to badly and broke it. He didn’t know why chose to believe his manager’s lies, because deep down he knew you would never do something like that. But it scared him nonetheless. He thought that if his manager was right, then he would end up hurting. So he hurt you instead.

And now here you both were, lonely, in pain, and broken.


A/N: So like…The series is not over. For those of you guys who like pure angst, and don’t want a happy ending, then I suggest you stop here. In the future part(s), I’m writing with the intention of a happy ending. Do y’all want part 10? What do you think is going to happen to Y/n and Tae?! Let me know~ I love hearing from y’all. The support I’ve gotten from this one series has been amazing and it’s been so much fun writing for you guys. Part 1 has reached over 1.8k notes and I’m still in awe. 

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

A Good Thing

“Bobby, you can’t keep doing that to him.”
Bob raises his eyebrows, putting down his fork. “Doing what, Alicia? Corralling our son into talking about his crush?”
“Exactly.”

Or, A fic about Bob and Alicia noticing Jack’s feelings for Bitty before even he does.


Bob Zimmermann is kind of messy, only a bit of a smart ass, and just a tad hard of hearing. Yet even without perfect hearing Bob can’t miss the affection in his son’s voice when talking about a certain line-mate.

Bob Zimmermann is many things, but he is no idiot.

“Did you get that paper done for your…what was it again- american pie class?”

Bob looks over his shoulder just in time to see Alicia send an appraising look from the couch. He catches a hint of a smile.

He winks back and she rolls her eyes in return.

Bob turns again to the large window, the white light blinding him for a moment. The large expanse of grass is still littered with snow, lining the way down to their lake. A blank sky hugs the horizon.

“Women, food, and American culture, Papa.”

“Right. So how’d you do on the paper? Did Eric help you out?”

Keep reading

inspired by this video (sfw, but a sex toy is being used as car repair, so take that as you will)

“Laura’s gonna flip,” Derek says in dismay, looking at the huge dent in the driver’s side door of the Camaro. Her most precious possession, the car she’d been saving up for forever, the car she waxes and washes every weekend, the car that she let Derek borrow to go to the Mathletes competition in San Francisco because Derek had a basketball game on Friday and couldn’t make the official school bus, the car that Laura made him swear his life on, is now forever ruined.

“Damn, if there ever was a good place to curse, that would have been it,” Stiles says, crossing his arms and looking far more attractive than he had the right to. “C’mon, Derek. Just say it. Fuck.”

Derek blushes, watching the word tumble out of Stiles’ pink mouth. “No, I… there’s gotta be a way to fix it. But if I call her insurance people she’s gonna know…”

“It’s totally my fault,” Stiles says. “I was the one who wanted to go to Tastee Freeze on the way back, and let some dingbat hit you in the parking lot. Actually, it’s their fault, whoever can’t drive.”

Derek shakes his head. It’s his fault. He’d been having too much fun this weekend; he’d spent practically all of it with Stiles. He’d had a crush on him forever— in fact, joined Mathletes at his request, and the whole year of practice, of spending afternoons with Stiles poring over math problems, watching Stiles lick Cheeto dust off his fingers— it’s been too much. Coupled with the fact that Stiles actually just plain forgot to catch the bus on Friday, and then caught a ride with Derek, meant hours in the car listening to him sing along to Hamilton and muddle through the rap bits, and sleeping next to him in the four-to-a-room motel Saturday night, and waking up with Stiles’ face smashed into his shoulder.

Derek had been too overwhelmed by it all, too overwhelmed by Stiles. Getting the chance to spend time with his friend this weekend had just intensified his feelings, and he knows there’s no chance that Stiles will ever feel the same, so he’s just drinking it all in, savoring these moments when he can.

It had been a terrible parking job, the Camaro was at a weird angle, that’s why the person rounding the turn had hit him. Derek sighs. He guesses it’s for the best. He’ll just have to pay Laura back. For forever.

Stiles is studying the door, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Actually, it’s not that bad. They didn’t even scratch it. It’s just a dent. With the right amount of leverage…”

“I’m sorry, do you happen to have a magical car-door fixer in your overnight bag?”

Somehow, this causes Stiles to turn bright red. “Okay. I have an idea. But you have to promise not to laugh.”

“Okay…?”

Derek watches, perplexed, as Stiles pulls his duffle bag out of the back seat, and then rummages around in it.

“Promise not to laugh,” Stiles repeats.

“I promise.” Derek is confused, but sincere.

Stiles pulls a bright blue dildo out of the bag. It’s springy, and jiggles a little with the movement. There’s a thick vein running along the side, and the base even has… balls.

Derek’s brain short circuits, an image of Stiles, naked, working himself on the girth of the toy, his mouth open, panting, as he tries to get the right angle, skin flushed pink from pleasure…

“Fuck,” Derek says.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Lena getting her clothes specially tailored so that they hug her body but also not realising that everyone doesn't do this so she is confused when kara just goes and buys a jumper and then wears it the next day without getting it tailored and she doesn't understand because even at a young age all her clothes were tailored and how does someone not do that.

This is so accurate.

Like we know that Cat had a field day with Kara’s wardrobe; and we all know Lena has a little more tact than that but still - she’s just in shock?

She has a personal shopper, and a personal tailor, and she probably doesn’t even look at the bill

So she gets Kara’s measurements and just starts discreetly adding pieces to Kara’s wardrobe.

And THAT is how Cat Grant finds out that Kara has a new roommate.

“Keira is that … Versace?”

“Ummm, it was just … in my closet?”

“Hmm … interesting.”

Cat reaches out a finger to trace the stitching on Kara’s sleeve.

“Lena might have gotten it for me? Sometimes she likes to buy clothes for me. I tell her she doesn’t have to, but she says if we’re going to be living together -”

“Lena Luthor?”

“Yes?”

“You live with Lena Luthor?”

“Yes?”

Cat circles her desk before taking a seat and perching her glasses on the end of her nose - pen poised dramatically as if to take and important note.

“I wasn’t aware you had moved, I’ll need your new address so I can update your employee file.”

“Oh, no, Ms. Grant - I haven’t moved.”

“You mean to tell me that Lena Luthor has taken up residence in that 500 square foot studio apartment you call home?”

“Yes? Ma’am?”

“Oh, that is -” Cat chews the stem of her reading glasses for a moment before fixing Kara with an even stare. “How long have you two been a couple?”

“Ms. Grant, we’re not - I mean, we’re just friends.”

Cat barks a laugh.

“Yet you sleep in the same bed and she frequently litters your department store wardrobe with two thousand dollar designer pieces?”

“We’re best friends?”

“Oh my dear girl, it seems I have failed you in more ways than one. Have …” Her hand flutters towards the assistant desk on the other side of the glass wall. “What’s the newest one’s name?”

“Steven, Ms Grant.”

“Yes, well, have Stefan clear my schedule for next Thursday. You and I are going to have lunch. And a long conversation about how to tell when a woman is flirting with you.”

Daddy's love.

‘Daddy, why do you always hold my hand?’

‘I thought you liked holding Daddy’s hand? Oh! Do you get embarrassed? Does it make you feel like you aren’t a big girl?’

'No. I quite like feeling not so big. But you always hold it. Aaaaaalways. Why?’

'Well, for a few reasons. I don’t want to lose you.’

I see a duck on the lake and excitedly start my way towards it. My arm is tugged and I realise I’m pulling. I stop.

'See?’ Daddy asks, 'you could easily have fell into the lake or that duck could have eaten you. Then where would we be?’

I giggle and swing our clasped hands playfully.'I’d be in the duck’s belly,’ I laugh.

'Exactly. We don’t want that, do we?’ Daddy smiles down at me.

'Noooo!’ I agree, frowning solemnly.

I forget I even asked a question before he continues. 'Another reason I like to hold your hand is so I can lead you to places I want us to go.’

I shuffle my feet and protest by inhaling. 'That’s like I’m a dog!! AAAAND…what if I know which place I need to go?’

Daddy laughs heartily. 'You’re more of a little monkey! Anyway, it’s my job to make sure you get where I want you to go. If I hold your hand, I can be sure you get there safely, with me.’

'Hmm. Ok, but I can still see you and still hear you.’

'Ahh, but sometimes you don’t look and sometimes you don’t listen’ he raised an eyebrow.

'But you can always see and hear me!’ I exclaim.

'Haha! Oh you aren’t wrong! But it’s different to feel you, and hold you. Don’t you think?’

'Ummm..’

Daddy went on, 'when I tuck you in, it isn’t enough to see me or hear me is it? Eventually you close your eyes and you start to fall asleep. I stroke your hair. That way, you can be doubly sure I’m still there can’t you? It makes you feel safe to know I’m definitely with you just that little bit extra, doesn’t it?’

'Yes! I’d be sad if you didn’t stroke my hair when I fall asleep.’

'Exactly! That is how Daddy feels. He feels that little bit safer knowing he has you. And that you’re absolutely, definitely, undoubtedly with me all the time.’

'Ohhhhhh! I understand now!’

'But the biggest reason…’ He pulls me in.

I nod, eager to listen.

“is that you are mine. When I hold your hand, you are mine. Everyone knows not to hurt you. I can keep you safe when you are close. I can know so much about you when I hold you because your hands talk too.’

I laugh, 'my hands don’t talk silly Daddy!’

'Oh yes they do. They tell me when you are scared, excited, too hot or too cold. They even tell me when you need to pee. Although you usually do a funny dance too.’

'Shhhh’, I look around to make sure no one heard and pout up at him.

'Your hands are just as important and as lovely as your eyes, your voice. Why should I leave your hands out?’

I wonder.

'I love to look in your eyes, so I look. I love to hear your voice, so I listen.’

He stops.

'I love to hold your hand, and that’s why I always hold it.’

NHL!Bitty, Part XII -  ‘A Stanley Cup Wedding’

The Schooners win game seven and dethrone the defending champion Falconers to claim Seattle’s first national title. 

Eric was definitely not expecting Jack to propose immediately after losing.

(A rework of the ‘Game 7 PVD vs SEA’ prompt that totally retcons some NHL!Bitty stuff, so timeline-wise: the Falconers took the cup Eric’s second year with the Schooners. The Schooners win the following season.)

NHL!Bitty Masterpost




Game Seven. Third period. Eric’s running on adrenaline, blue Gatorade, and rage.

Jack and the rest of the Falconers first line are racing to catch up, but Eric is ‘criminally fast’ (thank you ESPN for the lovely descriptor), and it’s almost too easy to whip the puck to Carter and wait for the siren.

Snowy can’t stop it. The Schooners will win in regulation. 

For a brief, terrifying moment, Eric sees Morin’s breakaway as the death knell of his relationship. He has flashes of Freshman year and he thinks ‘Jack is going to hate me’.

Eric closes his eyes and waits.

Keep reading

The Five Times You See Dean Winchester Shirtless

Word Count: 1,658

Warnings: None.

Originally posted by justjensenanddean


The first time you see Dean Winchester shirtless, he’s sporting a large gash on his shoulder that you have to stitch up. He’s sitting on the foot of your bed, crumpled up T-shirt in his hand and looking at you expectantly.

Meanwhile, you’re trying not to implode from how beautiful he looks in the pale light the room’s lamp is shedding on him. Even though he’s thoroughly bruised and bloodied up, his green eyes are twinkling and his chest is slightly heaving. The wound probably hurts him and you blink a few times to knock yourself out of your reverie.

“Let’s get this over with,” he mutters, reaching for the large bottle of liquor he probably had stashed in Baby’s backseat.

Keep reading

Ever Since New York

Originally posted by riverdaleselite

Check the Ever Since New York Masterlist for series updates!

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: After his junior year, Jughead goes to New York for a writing internship.  

Warnings: some swearing, you might cry

Word count: 4,574

A/N: umm first of all thank you for 7000 followers?? holy crap. anywho wowowow this is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written. It’s based off of the song “Ever Since New York” from Harry Styles’s album (which I love btw).  This is probably my favorite thing I’ve ever written tbh. Hope you all enjoy!


Tell me something, tell me something
You don’t know nothing, just pretend you do

After years of saving the money he earned at the Twilight Drive-In and other odd jobs, Jughead finally had enough to buy a plane ticket to New York.  He had discovered a writing internship there that he knew he had to do. It didn’t take much effort to convince his dad to allow him to go; in fact, FP even offered to pitch in some money. Jughead refused, claiming that he wanted to do this all on his own.  He wanted to deserve this internship as much as possible.

He started talking to Veronica frequently, asking her about her time in New York.  She, of course, gladly answered all of Jughead’s questions.  She was glad to finally bond with her boyfriend’s best friend.  

Jughead also pestered Betty with questions, seeing as she had done an internship similar to his two summers ago.  It was a bit awkward at first, since the two of them used to date.  However, they both got over their awkwardness for the sake of preparing Jughead for his internship.

“It’s really amazing,” Betty told him.  “It’s a great experience, and you’ll learn so much.”

“What are other people like?” Jughead inquired.  “Are they pricks?”

“Sometimes,” Betty laughed. “It depends.  Do you know how many other people are participating in the internship?”

“Just one,” he answered, shrugging.  “I don’t know who it is though.”

“Well, if they’re a jerk then that’s gonna suck,” she offered.  “But if they’re nice, they may become one of the closest friends you’ll ever have.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Betty replied and nodded.  “You’re gonna spend all summer with this other person.  They’re either gonna drive you up the wall or become your new best friend.”

I need something, tell me something new
Choose your words, ‘cause there’s no antidote
For this curse, oh, what’s it waiting for?
Must this hurt you just before you go?

“Have fun in New York, Jug.” FP patted his son on the back as they stood at the airport gate.  Betty, Veronica, Archie, Fred Andrews, and Kevin stood behind FP, all wearing supportive smiles.  Jughead glanced around at the group who followed him to the airport, filled with admiration of his friends and family.

“Thank you guys,” he said, fighting back a giant grin.  “You didn’t all have to come, though.”

“Of course we did,” Fred Andrews argued.  “We’re not gonna see you all summer, Jughead.  We have to give you a proper send-off.”

“Well, proper send-off achieved,” Jughead laughed.  He watched as others in the line began to move.  “I guess I should go now.  Thanks for this.  See you all in August.”  As he turned on his heel and walked away, the group of six gleefully waved at Jughead’s retreating figure.

“You aren’t worried about Jughead all alone in a giant city?” Fred asked FP as they exited the airport.

“Nah,” FP responded, waving his hand.  “He’s a smart kid, he’ll find his way.”

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know

“Hi, I’m Jughead Jones,” he introduced himself at the front desk.  “I’m here for the writing internship.”

The lady sitting behind the desk glanced up at Jughead.  “Ah, yes! We’ve been expecting you, Mr. Jones!” she exclaimed, standing from her chair.

“Oh, am I late?” Jughead inquired.  

The lady shook her head. “Oh no, not at all.  Your counterpart just got here early, so we’ve been waiting for you to start.”

“My counterpart?”

“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” she gestured to a girl sitting on a chair against the wall, flipping through a magazine.  The girl perked up when she heard her name, and saw Jughead and the receptionist staring at her.

“Is this him?” (Y/N) questioned, standing up and setting the magazine down.  Jughead noticed it was a TIME magazine.  

“Yes,” the receptionist answered.  “(Y/N), this is Jughead Jones.”  Jughead stuck his hand out to shake, and (Y/N) firmly shook his hand.

“I hope you’re not an asshole,” she blatantly said as they released hands, “because we’re gonna be stuck with each other all summer.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” he quipped.  

(Y/N) raised her eyebrow in interest.  “Quick-witted,” she noted with a smirk forming on her face.  “I like it.”

“You better,” Jughead fired back, biting back a grin.  “Like you said, we’ll be around each other all summer.”

“If we were together any longer, I’d worry about you falling in love with me,” she jokingly warned. “So be careful.”

Brooklyn saw me, empty at the news
There’s no water inside this swimming pool

“When’d you get here?” (Y/N) asked as she and Jughead exited the building, their first day of the internship finished.

“Two days ago,” Jughead answered with his hands in his pockets.  “What about you?”

“Last week.”  Her pace was quick, and she seemed determined to get somewhere.  “Are you hungry?  Because I’m starving.”

“I would love some food,” Jughead almost moaned at the thought of food.  He was only able to scarf down a small lunch in the midst of the business.

“I know this great burger place,” (Y/N) explained as she led the way to the restaurant.  “It’ll make every other burger you’ve ever eaten seem like a pile of shit on a bun.”

“I doubt that,” Jughead scoffed.  “There’s a diner where I’m from that makes the best burgers you’ll ever eat.”

“Where are you from?”

“Riverdale,” he said. “Pop’s diner, that’s what it’s called. If you ever find yourself in Riverdale, stop by Pop’s.  Trust me, you’ll thank me.”

“Well we’re not in Riverdale right now, Jughead Jones,” (Y/N) reminded him.  “So you should thank your lucky stars that I am your counterpart, because I’ve been here for the past week. You know what I’ve been doing for that week?  Exploring, Jones.  I have tried and evaluated twenty-one restaurants, and I know where to go for whatever you’re craving.”

“What if I’m craving Korean food?” he quizzed.

“32nd street, there’s a great Korean grill,” she immediately responded.

“Ethiopian?”

“There’s a quaint little place on 135th street.”

“What if I want to get wasted?” Jughead smirked.

“There’s a club a couple of blocks away with shitty security,” (Y/N) answered with a smirk equally as wide.  “Or maybe I was just an exception, seeing as how attractive I am.”

“I think you overestimate yourself,” he scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes.  

(Y/N) lightly slapped him on the arm.  “I do not!” she retaliated.  

“Whatever, keep lying to yourself.”  Jughead quickened his pace, leaving (Y/N) behind him.

“Hey!” she called out, rushing to catch up to him.  “You better not leave me!  You don’t even know where you’re going.”

“You’re still here,” he noted, casually wrapping his arm around her shoulders.  “Lead the way, (Y/N).”

Almost over, had enough from you
And I’ve been praying, I never did before

“God, this food sucks,” (Y/N) whispered, gesturing towards the plates of Japanese food sitting in front of her and Jughead.  “That place we ate at last week was so much better.”

“True,” Jughead agreed with a mouthful of food.  “But this place is cheaper.”

“Rightfully so!” she exclaimed, jabbing at her tofu with a chopstick.  Jughead silently laughed and shook his head, continuing to eat his fried rice.  He watched as (Y/N) picked at her dish, examining each aspect of the meal.  

It had been three weeks since their internship had begun, and Jughead and (Y/N) quickly became close friends.  They bonded over the overwhelming amount of work at their internship and their food-discovering adventures.  Jughead didn’t know how he would’ve survived an entire summer in New York without (Y/N) by his side.  They even stayed at the same hotel, so during a sleepless night, one would wake the other and stay up all night talking.  On those nights, they would drink hot chocolate.

“I’ve got the check tonight, Jug,” (Y/N) said, snapping Jughead out of his thoughts as she took the bill from the waitress.  Jughead furiously shook his head.

“No, (Y/N), you got dinner yesterday,” he protested, reaching out towards the bill.  “I’ll cover it tonight.”

“You got lunch!” she exasperatedly exclaimed.  “I can handle it.  Dinner wasn’t even expensive last night or tonight.”  

Jughead huffed as the waitress returned and took (Y/N)’s money.  “Fine,” he pouted, “but we’re gonna go out for desert, and I’m paying for it.”

“Fine.”

“Ice cream?” Jughead offered, standing from his chair.  (Y/N) followed suit, and they exited the diner.  She slowly grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers.

“I’m feeling frozen yogurt tonight,” she countered his offer, grinning up at him.

“What’s the difference?” Jughead playfully scoffed, trying not to blush at their hand-holding.  They had started doing it last week after he almost lost (Y/N) in a giant mass of people.

“I swear to God, Jug, you said the same thing last week, and I explicitly explained it to you.”  (Y/N) rolled her eyes.  “Ice cream is-”

“Made with cream, whereas frozen yogurt is a yogurt-based treat,” Jughead quoted what (Y/N) had told him last week.

“I knew you paid attention to me.”

Understand I’m talking to the walls
I’ve been praying ever since New York

In the middle of the night, the phone started ringing.  Jughead, still half-asleep, answered it with his eyes remaining shut.  

“You can come over,” he said, not waiting for the caller to initiate the conversation.

“Okay,” (Y/N)’s quiet voice responded, and she hung up.  A few moments later, a soft knock resonated through Jughead’s hotel room.  He rolled off of his bed, throwing on a t-shirt, and opened the door.  (Y/N) stood in the doorway, slightly shaking.  

“You cold?” Jughead murmured.  (Y/N) wordlessly nodded.  He gently grabbed her arm and led her inside, shutting the door behind them.  He stripped the blanket off from his bed and draped it over her shoulders, wrapping (Y/N) in the soft white material.  (Y/N) smiled up at him.

“Why do you put up with me?” she asked, sitting on his bed.  Jughead mimicked her actions and sat next to her.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.

“How are you not sick of me?” she elaborated.  “I mean, we’ve been constantly hanging out for, what, a month and a half now?  You know if I’m annoying you, you can just tell me. I’ll back off.”

“Why would you annoy me?” he asked, slowly wrapping his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. “You’re the best part about this internship.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I’m not,” Jughead lightly laughed, slightly nudging her.  “I’m serious, (Y/N).  Before I came, I was asking my friend Betty about internships.  She did one two years ago, so she knew what she was talking about. She told me that the people I’ll meet during this internship will either drive me up the wall or become one of my closest friends.”

“So I haven’t driven you up the wall?” (Y/N) inquired with a tentative smile.

“Of course not,” Jughead laughed loudly this time.  A moment of silence ensued, both (Y/N) and Jughead overwhelmed by sleepiness.

“Is Betty your girlfriend?” (Y/N) broke the silence, staring up at Jughead.

“No,” he muttered, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.  “She was,” he admitted, “but not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing bad,” he shrugged. “Sometimes things just don’t work out, you know?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) muttered. “I had a boyfriend.”

“Really?  That’s shocking.”

“Shut up!” she whined, elbowing him.  “Yes, I had a boyfriend.  He was actually a total dickhead.”

“How?” Jughead asked, growing concerned.  

(Y/N) looked up at him and giggled.  “Oh, you’re worried,” she cooed, placing a hand on his chin.  Jughead swatted it away.

“Sue me,” he retorted, but then grew serious.  “But really, what happened?”

“Nothing bad,” she replied, facing away from Jughead.  “We were dating for a while, and… I don’t know.  He never really supported me in anything.  He wasn’t nice to any of my friends, and I didn’t notice for so long because I was so fucking smitten.  Eventually it hit me one day, and I realized that he was horrible.  So, naturally, I dumped him.”

“As one does,” Jughead nodded, nonchalantly tracing patterns on (Y/N)’s right arm with his thumb.  

(Y/N) slumped and sighed. “What time is it?”

Jughead glanced at the clock with its blaring, bright red numbers.  “Three o’clock.”

“Jesus,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes.  “I should… I should get back to my room.”  She jumped off the bed and trekked towards the door, her bare feet dragging on the carpet.

“Wait,” Jughead commanded, grabbing her arm.  “Don’t go, it’s too late.”

“You say that as if I have to walk across New York City,” (Y/N) joked.  “It’s fine, Jug, my room is down the hall.  I’m not gonna get mugged.”

“No, but you may fall over before you reach your room,” he countered with a lighthearted smirk. “Just stay here tonight, okay?” (Y/N), too tired to argue, needed no more convincing as she turned around and climbed into Jughead’s bed. He laid down, patting the space next to him.  (Y/N) tentatively settled next to him, slowly resting her head on the neighboring pillow. “You can get closer than that, you know,” he told her, amused by her unusually timid nature.  She hesitantly scooted closer to him, until she was near enough for Jughead to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her against his chest.  “That’s better,” he whispered into her hair.  She draped one arm around his torso, the other arm tucked under their now-shared pillow.

“Night, Jug,” she murmured, eyes already closed.  He smiled at her.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know

“Oh, Jughead, how is it?” Betty eagerly asked, her face displayed on his laptop screen.  

“It’s been great,” Jughead answered.  

“What restaurants have you tried?” Veronica questioned from her spot next to Betty.

“A bunch,” he vaguely replied.  “(Y/N) is attempting to try every restaurant in New York City.  I think it’s impossible, but she’s determined.”

“Who is (Y/N)?” Archie inquired, popping his head into the camera’s view.  

Jughead laughed, “Where do I begin?  She’s my ‘counterpart’ for the internship.  We’ve become very close.”

“I told you,” Betty grinned. Jughead nodded.

“You were right,” he admitted.  “Right when I met her, I… I don’t know, it just felt like something clicked between us. We’re inseparable.”  Betty’s expression slightly darkened, but Jughead waved it off as a bit off jealousy.

“Ah, you’ve got it bad, bro,” Archie laughed at his best friend.  Jughead rolled his eyes.

“It’s not like that, Arch,” he explained.  “It’s like Betty said, you grow really close to people when you spend so much time together.”

“But you don’t blush when you talk about them,” Veronica noted, pointing out Jughead’s dusty pink cheeks.

“You’re imagining things,” Jughead scoffed.  Betty, Archie, and Veronica shared a knowing glance.

“If you say so,” Veronica sing-songed.  Before Jughead could respond, there was a knock on his door.  A smile subconsciously grew on his face.

“Speaking of (Y/N),” he said, standing up and walking towards the door.  He opened it, and, as expected, (Y/N) stood there.

“Are we going or not, Jug?” she pressed, grabbing his hand.  “I told you the line for the rainbow bagels is super long.  I don’t want to spend all of Saturday waiting for one, even though they’re so fucking pretty.”

“I’m video chatting with my friends right now,” Jughead told her, gesturing towards his open laptop. “Can you wait like five more minutes?”

“Fine,” (Y/N) huffed, crossing her arms.  She stepped into his room, allowing him to close the door behind her.  She followed him as he sat back down in front of his laptop, resting her chin on his shoulder as she peered at the screen. “These are your friends?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “That’s Archie,” he gestured towards the redhead, “the blonde one is Betty, and that one is Veronica.”  (Y/N) smiled at Jughead’s Riverdale friends.

“You must be (Y/N),” Betty smiled.  “Jughead was just talking about you.”

“Of course he was,” (Y/N) joked, nudging his arm.  Jughead playfully shoved her back.

“So how’s it been? Three months with the infamous Jughead Jones?” Veronica inquired with a smirk dancing on her lips.  

“Well it hasn’t been three months quite yet,” (Y/N) corrected her.  “I’ve only gotta deal with this guy for two more weeks.” Jughead’s face slightly deflated as this realization hit him.  “Let me tell you, he’s quite the handful.”

“We know,” Archie laughed. Jughead opened his mouth to say something, but (Y/N) interrupted him.

“Shit, I left my phone in my room!” she exclaimed, standing up.  “I’ll be right back, Jug.”  She turned and faced the laptop.  “It was great talking to you guys.  I hope we can meet sometime!”  She quickly exited Jughead’s room.  Immediately, Veronica, Archie, and Betty bombarded him about (Y/N)

“She’s perfect,” Veronica cooed.  “She’s actually flawless, Jughead.”

“You lucked out, bro,” Archie told him.  “She’s a keeper.”

“She’s absolutely amazing, Jughead,” Betty smiled.  Jughead grinned and shook his head.

“You guys, I told you-”

“Don’t even go there,” Veronica interrupted him.  “That girl is absolutely perfect for you.  The way you two look at each other is… it seems like it’s from a fairytale. You two are soulmates, Jughead.

“She does seem great, Jug,” Archie agreed with her.  “I mean, I’ve never seen you like that with anyone.  No offense, Betty.”

“None taken, Archie,” she waved his comment off.  “They’re right though, Jug.  You never looked at me the way you look at (Y/N).”  Jughead couldn’t think of a clever retort.  “But be careful, Jughead.  Like (Y/N) said earlier, you two only have two more weeks together. If you haven’t done anything up to this point, you might want to consider whether or not it’s worth it to start something now.  Just ask yourself, is it worth the heartbreak that’ll happen when you have to leave her?” She pursed her lips as she watched Jughead’s face darken on her screen.

“Thanks guys,” he said halfheartedly.  “Really, thank you.  I’ll see you all in two weeks.”

Tell me something, tell me something
You don’t know nothing, just pretend you do
Tell me something just before you go

“Our last day!” (Y/N) exclaimed, prancing into Jughead’s hotel room.  After the video call he had two weeks ago ended, he decided to give her a key to his room.  “Our internship is over, and we have one last night to spend together, Jug.  Out of every place in all of New York City, where do you want to go, Jughead Jones?” she asked seductively, a coy smirk growing on her face.

“I’m feeling burgers tonight,” Jughead answered, trying to stop his expression from deflating.  “And then maybe we can get some cupcakes?”

“I like it!” she grinned. She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room, beginning the trek to their favorite restaurant.  “Jesus, I can’t believe it’s been three months already.”

“I know,” he agreed.  “It seems like my plane landed just yesterday.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) breathed. They spent the rest of their walk in silence, choosing to listen to the bustling New York traffic.  

The waitresses at the restaurant, at this point, knew Jughead and (Y/N) as regulars.  They didn’t even bother giving them menus, knowing exactly what each of them would order.

“You two are my favorites,” the waitress whispered as she set their burgers in front of them.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) grinned. “I’m sorry to say, but it’s our last day here.”

“Oh,” the waitress sighed. “Well, you two better visit.  I don’t know what I’ll do without my favorite regulars.”  She walked away, leaving (Y/N) and Jughead to enjoy their burgers.

“You know,” Jughead noted through a mouth full of burger, “I don’t know how you’ve tried almost every restaurant in New York City while becoming a regular here.”

“Talent, Jug,” she told him, wiping her mouth on a napkin.  “It takes a hell of a lot of talent.”

They finished dinner and went to their favorite bakery to get cupcakes.  On their walk back to the hotel, they fell into silence once again. It wasn’t broken until they entered Jughead’s hotel room.  By now, almost all of (Y/N)’s stuff ended up in here.  They found it easier, rather than constantly having to switch back and forth between rooms to grab their stuff.

“So that was our last day,” (Y/N) claimed, flopping onto the bed.  Jughead stood by the bedside, crossing his arms with an amused smile.

“Unfortunately, it was,” he nodded.  He jumped next to her on the bed, earning a shriek from (Y/N).  He swallowed as he stared at her, knowing what he had to tell her. “Do you remember what you said to me on the first day we met?”

“That I know where to go for whatever you’re craving,” she answered with a grin.  Jughead laughed and shook his head.

“No, the other thing.”

“I hope you’re not an asshole because we’re gonna be stuck together all summer?” she offered.  He shook his head again.

“Nope.”

“I called you quick-witted?”

“No!”

“What is it?” (Y/N) demanded, sitting up so that she was hovering over Jughead as he remained laying down.

“You told me that if we were together any longer than just the summer, I might fall in love with you,” he explained, sitting up so that they were face-to-face.  (Y/N)’s grin slightly faded.

“Oh,” she murmured.  “Yeah, I did say that.”

“You were wrong,” Jughead said, trying to keep his voice steady.  He slowly grabbed her right hand.

“Really?” she asked as her eyes followed Jughead’s hand.

“Betty told me to be careful,” he explained, “because we’re not gonna be together that long.  And she was right.  I mean, why would we risk an immense amount of heartbreak just for the sake of a blissful few weeks together?”  When (Y/N) said nothing, he continued.  “So I figured I could just suck it up and get through the rest of our time together and not say anything.  It was a good plan, but you… you ruined it.”

“Sorry,” she quipped with a small smirk.  Jughead lovingly rolled his eyes.

“No you’re not,” he laughed. “You’re not sorry, and you shouldn’t be. Within the three months we’ve spent together, I’ve grown closer to you than I ever have with anyone else.  Hell, my ex-girlfriend said that we were great together.”

“She did?”

“Yeah,” he responded, grabbing her hands.  “Jesus, (Y/N), I’m in love with you.  I’m fucking in love with you, and it sucks.  It sucks because I don’t know if I’m ever gonna see you again.  And this is gonna cause so much heartbreak, for me at least, and maybe you too.  I just… I can’t keep it from you anymore.  But I also think, deep down, you already knew how I felt.”  Tears clouded (Y/N)’s eyes, and her lips quivered as she quickly enveloped Jughead in a hug.

“Fuck,” she whispered into his neck.  “Fuck, of course I love you, Jughead.”  He pulled himself out of her grip and stared at her, stroking his hand across her cheek. They both leaned in, pressing their foreheads against each other.  Their lips ghosted over each other, only millimeters apart.

“If I kiss you-”

“If you kiss me, everything is gonna go to shit, Jug,” she interrupted him.  He nodded but didn’t pull away.  They sat there like that on his bed on a minute, (Y/N) sitting on Jughead’s lap with her arms around his neck, foreheads touching and lips barely brushing.

The tension grew unbearable, so (Y/N) closed the gap and pressed her lips against his, trying to express what she had been feeling for the past three months.  

Jughead, too, attempted to convey every pent up confession he had, wishing that kisses could speak. He wanted his hands, which were encircling her waist, to tell her how she charmed him with her wit.  He wanted his eyes, which were closed with pleasure, to tell her how beautiful she was, especially when she trudged into his hotel room at three in the morning.  He wanted his lips, which were pressed against hers, to tell her how much he loved her.  He loved her, he loved her, and he wanted to keep saying it for the rest of his life.

For the sake of oxygen, the two pulled apart.  They kept their foreheads resting against each other.  

“Everything’s gone to shit,” (Y/N) whispered, and Jughead burst out into laughter.  (Y/N) followed suit by giggling, and their still-entangled limbs caused them to fall onto the bed so that (Y/N) was laying on top of Jughead. This only caused the pair to laugh harder.  

When their chuckles finally died down, (Y/N) climbed off from on top of Jughead and laid next to him, resting her head on his chest.  She combed her hand through his raven locks.

“I’m sorry that I fell in love with you,” Jughead apologized, kissing the top of her head. They were slowly falling asleep.

“Thank you for falling in love with me,” (Y/N) whispered, eyes fluttering shut.  “It may have all gone to shit, but it was worth it.”

Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know
Oh, tell me something I don’t already know

Jughead stepped off the plane and saw his dad and friends standing at the gate, excitedly waiting for him.  He didn’t say anything, he didn’t even bother smiling.  Immediately, everyone understood.  

While they were awaiting Jughead’s plane’s arrival, Betty, Veronica, and Archie explained to the rest of the group about (Y/N).  They told them about how Jughead spent three months falling in love with this girl, and they explained that they had never seen Jughead look so smitten before.  

“How was New York, Jug?” FP asked, taking Jughead’s suitcase from him.  Jughead shrugged.

“It was nice.”

“Good food?” he questioned, trying to get his son to open up.  Jughead nodded tiredly.

“Yeah, food was great,” he replied monotonously.

“And the internship?”

“Helpful,” Jughead responded.  “I think it’ll help me improve as a writer.”

“That’s good,” FP said, raking a hand through his hair.  “You had another person with you, right?”  FP noticed Jughead tense up at this.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Yeah, I had a counterpart.”

“What was she like?” Jughead looked up at his dad.

“You already know who it is,” he replied, shaking his head.  “Who told you, Betty?”  FP pursed his lips.

“Yeah, her and Archie and Veronica.  But listen, Jug, you’re going to have your heart broken countless other times.  You’ll get over this girl,” he attempted to comfort Jughead.

“Dad, she wasn’t just a girl,” he protested.  “She was amazing and quick-witted, and I fell in love with her and then everything went to shit.  But the worst part is that it’s okay, because she loved me too.  She fucking loved me, and I kissed her, and now I may never see her again.”

“Well if you loved her that much, you may see her again,” FP shrugged.  “Fate is a tricky thing, son, but the universe seems to cooperate better if you love someone.”

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Two Beers and the Truth

An extremely late birthday fic for @wrathofthestag, who shares my hopes for Coach and Bitty. Here’s a little fic about how I hope the summer goes for the Bittle Clan…

         Bitty knew that coming out to coach would end one of three ways.

         The first scenario was the one that had kept him silent since middle school when he realized that it didn’t matter how many girls stole kisses from him, he just wasn’t interested. He could see Coach’s face turning to stone, the way it did when the Dawgs lost a game in overtime, and hear his father’s steely voice proclaiming I have no son. Some nights he would still wake up shaking when he thought about that scenario, if he was lucky, Jack would be there to gather him up and mutter soothing bits of nonsense into his hair as he trembled.

         The second scenario was more likely, but still not something Bitty was looking forward to. Coach would press his lips together until they disappeared behind his mustache, then nod with a resigned air. If he was lucky, Bitty would get an awkward slap on the back and Coach would mutter something Suzanne told him Oprah said to say. It would be disappointment, but acceptance. Some days Bitty wondered if that wouldn’t be worse than outright anger.

         The third scenario Bitty blamed on Chowder, who seemed to think everyone in the world would be thrilled with a gay son. In this dream setup, Coach cried, opening his arms to his son and assuring Bitty that he could never be prouder of a child. They would cry together, then, hugged up on the porch swing, talking about life and maybe boys.

         Bitty bit his lip, wondering which scenario he would be living through. He rolled his shoulder, preparing for a disappointed pat. He glanced at his mother in the kitchen.

         With a sigh, Suzanne moved to the refrigerator, picking out two beers and holding them out to Bitty. She kissed his forehead. “Go on, I’ll be doing dishes if you need me.”

         Bitty nodded and looked toward the porch again.

         “I can do this,” he muttered. “For me. For Jack.”

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One Foot In The Grave

First thing Keith did when he got home was scream into his pillow and flop onto his bed.
Lance had kissed him!
He hottest and most popular guy in school had actually kissed him.
“Good day?” Shiro asked from the door way.
He didn’t have his prosthetic on and looked like he had just gotten out of the shower with his hair still wet clinging to his forehead.
“Shiro am I dead?” Keith asked remaining face down.
“What?” He asked in surprise sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I think I must of died, maybe I’m passed out somewhere and it didn’t really happen.” Keith mumbled.
Shiro was starting to get worried, he had never seen his brother like this before. “Keith, buddy you need to tell me what happened.”
“Lancekissedme.” Keith said very very quietly.
“What was that?” Shiro asked sure he must of misheard him.
“L-Lance the guy everyone at school loves kissed me…”
“…”
Silence.
Keith bit his lip nervously staring down at his Spider-Man bed spread.
Shiro started laughing causing the younger boy to glare up at him. “What’s so funny!” He demanded.
“I figured you had killed someone.” Shiro answered between laughs. “Never expected you to act this way over a little old kids, anyone would think it was… wait a second.” Shiro peered at him for a second before putting his hand on his shoulders “Keith Kogane was that your first kiss?” He asked quietly, his voice and face masked in neutrality.
Keith hesitated before finally nodding.
Shiro’s grip tightened and a forced smile appeared on his face. “Really? And this random hot shot took it?” The casual tone sounded so forced that Keith found himself cringing.
“He’s not some random guy.”
“So then why have you never mentioned him before?” Shiro asked.
“Well erm… cause we never really talked and stuff.” Keith shrugged pretending not to mind when Shiro’s grip became a little painful.
“Oh.” Was all he said.
“Oh?” Keith questioned.
“Yes oh…” Shiro dropped his hand to his lap thinking for a moment. “I’ll talk to you later, I need to think over something.”
Keith watched in concern as his bother stumbled out of the room mumbling to himself.
———————————–
“Allura I kissed Keith!” Lance yelled wheeling his chair into his oldest sisters room.
She was lying on her stomach across her bed messing around on her laptop.
“Jeez Lance ever learn how to knock.” She sighed sitting up to look at him.
“No time! I kissed Keith! Keith Kogane!” He yelled.
Allura’s eyes widened “oh… my… god…”
“I know!”
“You kissed the guy you declared your rival!”
“I know!”
“The guy you’ve had a crush on for like ever!”
“I know!”
“You had your first kiss with your dream guy!”
“I KNOW!”
At this point Allura had jumped up and was kneeling in front of Lance. “Ok tell me everything!”
Lance explained how he had broken his leg and Keith helped him get home and in the spur of the moment he decided to kiss him before slamming the door in his face so he could hide behind Leo for a few hours.
Allura listened growing increasingly more excited.
“Ok I’m taking you to school tomorrow!” She decided. “Your cars in the shot anyway, and it’s not like you can walk to school. Plus I gotta make sure he’s good enough for my little bro.”
She hugged him making Lance squirm pretending not to enjoy her hugs when in fact he loved them. “Allurrrrrra.” He moaned pushing her away.
———————————–
The next morning Keith was in the kitchen having breakfast when Shiro walked down in his sleepless tank top that he only ever wore when he wanted people to notice just how ripped her was.
“I’m coming to school with you. And before you say no I’m gonna say that I don’t care what you have to say. I need to go down their anyway and this has nothing to do with this Lance boy.”
Keith wasn’t convinced but knew arguing would be pointless.
So that’s how Keith found himself stuck with his brother leaning against the bonnet of his car in the parking lot looking for anyone that fit Lance’s description.
“Shiro seriously stop.” Keith rolled his eyes as Shiro glared at yet another tall skinny tanned boy.
“Not until I meet this boy, I just want a chat.”
Keith groaned. He knew this would happen.
“Keith!”
The two whipped their heads round to see a tall woman running directly towards them.
Shiro blushed, he would know that beautiful white hair anywhere.
Allura came to a stop just short of running into the two and was smiling.
“Lance is in the office and I figured I would let you know. I’m sure the two of you have a lot to talk about.”
Keith paled slightly “whys he in the office? Is he ok?” He asked a little too quickly to sound casual.
Allura nodded waving him off with her hand “oh yes he is perfectly fine, just needed to change his class schedule so he doesn’t have to go up any stairs until his prosthetic’s repaired.”
Keith didn’t wait for anymore information and instead took off running leaving the two adults alone.
“It’s good to see you again Shiro, I heard you got back but didn’t have your number.”
Shiro swallowed “oh yeah… erm so you know Lance?”
Allura laughed “I would hope so, he is my little brother after all.”
Shiro helped whatever god was looking out for him that he didn’t end up yelling at his crushes little brother right in front of her. “Oh. I never realised.”
“Not many do, Lance was adopted after he lost his parents in the same accident that cost him his legs, it’s been hard for him. But I’m sure you understand better then anyone what losing a limb is like.
Shiro was silent. He hadn’t realised Lance was like him.
“Yeah I do.”

—————————————- Part 1: https://langsty-mc-langstface.tumblr.com/post/160205940560/one-foot-in-the-grave
Every Possible Past

Lars sat with his knees pulled close to his body, leaning against the rough-hewn surface of the kindergarten wall. He trailed his finger through the thin coating of dirt on the rockbed floor. He drew distracted shapes and wrote out words and names in the dirt, all of which he wiped clean and started anew, his brow furrowed.

Pad watched from behind. Unseeable, her eye flickered between Lars and the drawings in the dirt. She picked up the hem of her dress and moved to his side, sitting down with only a few inches of space between them. Lars said nothing. Pad didn’t either, for a while.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Me? Nothing,” Lars muttered. He erased a smiling sun and started anew. “Thinking.”

“…About?” Pad asked after a moment of hesitation.

“Stuff,” he answered. He picked his hand up from the dirt, seemingly lost for what to do. “Like, about this. Here.” Lars motioned to the rock walls stretching too high to measure, filtering through just enough light to see the rock dust trailing through the air, large and enveloping. “Where I’m stuck. Forever, maybe. And I’m thinking about if just…if I coulda avoided any of this if I’d just stopped being a coward sooner. That ‘stuff’.”

“Oh,” Pad answered. She stuck her own finger in the dirt, tracing squiggles. “No, you couldn’t have. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Lars blinked. “I didn’t even explain.”

“You’re concerned that your fate may have been avoided if you had helped Steven escape from Topaz sooner.” Pad added her own smiley face among the squiggles in the dirt. “Or perhaps if you had saved your blond friend on the ship when Aquamarine and Topaz descended upon you.”

Lars straightened, back against the stone wall. Then he pushed himself standing. “How do you know this stuff?”

Pad paused, her finger trailing midway through the dust. “Oh. Oh of course. My future vision is broken. It can only see the past.”

“So you can see…what, everything that happened?”

“And everything that might have happened. Like an endless tree.” She stood, and dusted herself off. “Most Sapphires can see all the possible things that might happen. I can only see the things that might have happened.”

Lars swallowed, and he stammered, and slowly he found the words. “The things that might have happened.”

“Yes.”

“So you can tell me what would have happened to me if I’d done this differently.”

“Oh, yes!”

“What would have happened if uh…what if I had helped Sadie when she needed help on the ship?”

Pad remained silent for a few seconds. A hollow wind blew through the caverns. “Ah yes, I see that vision now. You would have plummeted into the water with all the human others. And Steven would have vanished on the ship. You would have returned solemnly to your home. The next morning, you would have entered into a building with a large ring on the top.”

“The Big Donut.”

“Yes. That’s what the sign would have said.”

“What about Sadie?”

Another few seconds of silence. Pad clasped her hands together. “She would be there too. But you would not speak much with her. The disappearance of Steven would have left you both in turmoil.”

Lars wrung his hands together. “Okay… okay okay. That would have happened a couple days ago, yeah? What would be happening right now? If I was home? Where would I be?”

Pad shook her head. “Oh. I can’t see the possible presents.”

Lars licked his lips. Then he nodded. “Okay so…if I asked you tomorrow, would you be able to tell me what would have happened today? If I never left home?”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I would be able to tell you that.”

“Okay. Okay then.” Lars leaned against the wall, sinking slowly down it. He patted the dusty ground beside him. “If you’ve got some time now. Then could you tell me what um—if I had gotten off that ship, and stayed home—what would I have done yesterday?”

Pad picked up the hem of her dress and dropped into the offered spot. She fell silent a few moments before her mouth opened. “You would have returned to your place of work once more—the Big Donut. And you would have spoken to Sadie. She would have been difficult to console, as would you, but you would have triumphed eventually. She would have laughed at a humorous remark you found from the internet. This would have made you proud.”

Ten years pass quickly for Gems, not so much for humans. Lars wasn’t sure how these last ten years had passed for him, slow and fast at the same time. His physical body has not changed much, though his hair has grown much longer.

Lars leaned his back against the rough stone wall, free of dust now, and he waited for Pad to appear by his side.

When she did, Lars sunk to the ground, knees against his chest, and patted the same spot as always—as he did every day—for Pad to sit.

“So…tell me about yesterday. If I had stayed home, what would have happened yesterday?” Lars asked with urgency. It was the same question he had asked every day of the last ten years, but he was anxious now. He knew what might occur.

Pad smiled. She clasped her hands together. “You would have taken Sadie out to a food place along the beach. It would have been the one she told you she loved as a small human. And you would have taken that polished and cut stone out of your pocket, in the soft black box, and you would have presented it to her. You would have lowered yourself onto one knee first, and unfurled the box, and said, ‘Sadie, would you marry me?’”

Lars’s heart pounded in his ears. He swallowed dryly, leaning in. “What would she have said?”

“She would have said ‘Of course Lars. Of course.’”

Lars let out a strained breath, a noise of relief, or perhaps disbelief. He blinked harder, and leaned back against the wall, and traced his hand through the dirt. “Oh my god… Oh my god she would have said yes. She would have said yes.”

“Yes, she would have,” Pad answered.

The noise Lars made was soft, and wet, and it echoed out. Bouncing against the vast and dark heights of the kindergarten walls, absorbed and deflected in the cold hollow shells of Gems long extracted. And then it was lost to the cavern, that isolated and dark sealed off place. Inescapable.

A hollow wind replaced it.

Lars’s hand traced the shape of a heart in the dust, and the small strained noises from his throat dried up until only tears leaked down his cheeks. His hand stopped once it trembled too hard to trace anything more.

Suga Daddy: Part 9

Suga Daddy: Part 9 (m)

Word count: 8.2k

Genre/Warnings: angst, smut, dom!Yoongi, dirty talk, role-play (I’m sorry Yugyeom)

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Summary: It’s finally time for your showcase but Yoongi is nowhere to be found.

I know some of you have been reading this since the beginning and that’s crazy to me. Thank you so much for the constant support. I love you guys and Yoongi so yeah, onto the next chapter :) 

 Parts: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

This week had been nonstop practice for you. You spent so much time at school or in your dance studio. The dance showcase was getting closer and closer but you were damn well ready. Plus like you had said, Yoongi was now at your place, at night like nothing had happened. He would come to your home, spend wonderful passionate nights with you, play with the dog and be gone before you woke up the next morning.

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