slit shirt


Help I have a problem

I can’t stop drawing Mad Max characters in cheesy novelty T-shirts

This all started when what-a-nuxy-day mentioned that Morsov probably wears “Keep Calm And Chrome On” shirts, aaand… it kinda spiraled from there. Here’s the monstrously long original post.

Playing Forward

Pairing: JB/Im Jaebum x Reader (female)

Word Count: 3,323

Rating: (F) for fluff

Summary: College!AU, Jock!AU. After a flying soccer ball knocks you over on your morning run, the player behind it aims for your heart as well.

Part of the GOT7 colors series of oneshots! 🌈 Color: Green.

Music pounds in your ears as you sprint around the track, furiously swinging your arms. Legs straining, you round the turn, approaching the invisible spot on the track you’d marked as your starting place. The smooth sounds of James Blake carry through the headphones you wear, so incongruous with the frantic motion of your body as you run.

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It’s Too Quiet (GastonxWife!Reader oneshot)

So this is a request from @hobbithorse19! Just a little reminder Requests!!! Are!!! Open!! It might take a few days for either Widow or I to finish them to our liking, but don’t be shy to ask us for something!! And without further adue, @hobbithorse19 ‘s request! 

Tagged:  @veronicawells @definitely-nota-fangirl @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli

Word Count: 826

The bird twittered outside, the early stretches of dawn peaking over the skyline and filtering in through the trees, the warmth of your husband keeping you lethargic, steady breathing on your neck functioning as a lullaby. The glimmer of the sunlight on your polished ring hit your eyes, reminding you that- unfortunately, this comfort could not last forever. You could already hear the hens stirring and your cows mooing as they impatiently awaited your attention.

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anonymous asked:

writing prompts: hiccup and astrid “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me” (from @thelastinspiritdragonrider :D )

Ah, this one-shot is a bit OC, and not one of my best works… or so I think anyways, but hopefully it isn’t too horrible lol. Thank you for the prompt request! <3 :) This takes place after Season 4.


Astrid stared in horror as Tuff and Snotlout dragged in Hiccup’s prone and limp shape, each hanging onto the lifeless Haddock by one arm. Ruff, Fishlegs, and Toothless followed close behind, all person’s wearing strained and concerned looks on their faces.

“What happened?” Astrid whispered, dashing forward and picking Hiccup into her arms. As the other jumbled answers to explain, she carefully carried her boyfriend over to the bed in the corner of the Clubhouse.

“Fishlegs.” She ordered, looking sharply to the burly teen. “What happened?”

Fishlegs looked sorrowful. “Dragon was a bit fiercer then we realized.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was a Monstrous Nightmare. Huge, Monstrous Nightmare,” Snotlout explained, “and he wasn’t friendly either. Didn’t even want to be near the other dragons- and that idiot just thought he could waltz right up to the thing and train it with no weapons handy.”

Astrid bit her lip and looked back down to Hiccup, taking in his shaggy appearance and blood swiped face. His eyes were closed, his mouth parted slightly, and his entire left arm was soaked in vibrant red. And she highly doubted- yet desperately hoped- it belonged to the Nightmare.

“Ruffnut, get clean water. Snotlout and Tuffnut, blankets, clean cloths, and bandages. Fishlegs… can you help me with his shirt?”

Everyone moved to do as assigned, while Toothless merely stepped forward and nuzzled Hiccup’s un-injured hand lovingly. Astrid stared at the dragon in sympathy, before redirecting her attention to the injured limb again, wanting to burst into tears and scoop the injured boy into her arms at the sight of it.

After taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a moment, Fishlegs knelt down and began to cut away at Hiccup’s sleeve, while Astrid tugged at the straps of his armor. Once undone, she discarded the pieces under the bed and helped pull Hiccup’s right arm from the sleeve. She glanced over to where Fishlegs was working, nearly choking on a sharp cry at the sight of all the blood and the jagged wound that ran up the length of Hiccup’s forearm. It flashed unwanted images through her mind of a time not so long ago where Hiccup was in this same predicament, only with a different limb that he no longer had…

Fishlegs slit the shirt at the neckline, so the fabric fell away easily allowing Astrid to toss the useless garment into the farthest corner. Both instantly turned back to the gushing wound, Astrid’s stomach turning violently at the sight.

Fishlegs bit his lip looking up in a panic. “Stitches?”

“I… I don’t know-” Astrid stuttered. “Couldn’t you?”

Fishlegs blanched a bit whiter, but he nodded stiffly and stood up to get the needle from the first aid kit. 

Tuffnut and Ruffnut ran in just then, and Astrid wasted no time in grabbing the water and bandages from their arms. Turning back to Hiccup’s unconscious shape, she dunked a rag into the water and rung it out before carefully running it along his side and chest to clean away the still-slimy blood.

Toothless rumbled lowly, tongue sliding out to lick his rider’s hand as he stared sadly at Hiccup’s face. Astrid caught the dragon’s eyes and tried to smile, feeling bad that she couldn’t offer more reassurance.

“He’ll… he’ll be okay, Toothless. Nothing can keep him down for long.” 

Toothless moaned, setting his head on the edge of the bed as he watched her work.

After getting Hiccup’s torso cleaned, she moved to his upper arm which wasn’t as dirty, yet she washed the grime away anyways. Once she reached his elbow, she gulped nervously before hesitantly and carefully washing the thick blood off the wound, avoiding contact with the actual abrasion for fear of hurting him and making it worse.

After his arm was cleaned, she wrung the rag out again in the now slightly tinted water before moving to his hand. She ran the cloth over his knuckles and between his fingers, holding his hand a bit longer once she had it clean. He felt warm, which caused her to frown and place her palm on his forehead in concern.

Just as she’d suspected, he was running a low-grade fever.

“Oh, Hiccup…” she sighed, thumb gently running circles against his cheek.

“I-I found the needle.” Fishlegs huffed as he returned, holding said item in his fingertips. The twins backed off a bit fearfully, as though afraid Fishleg’s would use the small point as a weapon. Chicken waddled up, and Tuffnut quickly picked her up and cuddled her close as a distraction, even Ruffnut joining in the fowl pampering- which wasn’t exactly normal for her.

Fishlegs stood there for a moment, just staring, before Astrid exploded in panic “Hurry!”

Fishlegs jumped before kneeling down and grabbing a handful of bandages and dabbing at the wounds. Astrid turned away, feeling herself tense up at the sight as her stomach rolled. She instead moved up to place Hiccup’s head in her lap, running her fingers through his auburn hair and whispering soothing words against his ear.

“Okay… here we go…” Fishlegs murmured, moving slowly and carefully. “He might wake up, I’m not sure…”

The first incision was made, but Hiccup didn’t stir. He was out cold. The only indication he made that he felt pain was that his brow creased and his screwed his eyes shut, as though he felt it yet it didn’t quite bring him to consciousness.

“Shhh, it’s alright, you’re gonna be okay…” Astrid whispered, rocking back and forth soothingly as she waited for Fishleg’s to finish. It didn’t take long before she heard Fishleg’s sigh heavily, along with the sound of rustling fabric and cloth.

“I-I brought his clothes-” Came Snotlout’s quiet whisper. 

Astrid looked up and reached for the shirt, pushing Hiccup into a sitting position so she could slide it over his head. She then carefully pulled his good arm up and into the sleeve, while Fishlegs carefully maneuvered Hiccup’s injured and bandaged arm into the other.

“Er…” Fishlegs stuttered with a blush, looking up from under his helmet to cough awkwardly. “I… he got blood on his trousers to so-” 

Astrid blinked, and realized what he meant. She moved slowly out from her place at Hiccup’s head, gently setting him down onto a fluffed pillow before walking to the opposite side of the room by the twins and Chicken. Once Fishleg’s called that he was done, she quickly turned around and hurried back.

“How is he?” She asked in concern. 

“I’d feel better if Gothi came and took a look.” Fishlegs said quietly. “I’m not a medic… but I think he’ll be alright. If he isn’t awake by tomorrow morning, I’ll send the twins for Gothi and Stoick.”

“Tell Snotlout to Terror Mail Stoick anyways.” Astrid whispered, not looking at Fishlegs as she gently ran her hand down Hiccup’s face, thumbs gently rubbing his cheeks.

“I will.” Fishlegs assured her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I… uh… the rest of us will leave… do you want us to bring you anything for the night?”

“I’m good.” Astrid replied, smiling lopsidedly. “I just want to be here when he wakes up.”

Fishlegs smiled shyly in understanding, before turning and scuttling back to the others and shooing them out the door. Toothless watched them leave, turning and rumbling quietly as soon as they were gone. With one more lick to Hiccup’s hand, the dragon rested his head on the bed and settled his body on the floor, letting out a sigh as his half-lidded eyes stared dazedly at Hiccup chest.

Astrid stood and went to the low burning fire pit, grabbing one of the chairs and sliding it over to Hiccup’s bed. She leaned back against the chair, sighing in exhaustion while watching Hiccup’s chest rise and fall beneath the blankets. Reaching for his injured hand, she gently wrapped her fingers in his, feeling the warmth radiating from them.

Nearly an hour later she stood and grabbed cool clean water, setting a wrung out rag on Hiccup’s forehead to help bring down his slight fever. Once done, she leaned her arms on the bed, eyes fluttering as she fought sleep.

She bit her lip in concern, worried as to why Hiccup hadn’t stirred since Fishlegs left. She desperately grabbed his hand again, praying that he’d be alright and would wake soon.

She went rigid when Hiccup shifted slightly, his low moan soft but most definitely there. Her head shot up and her eyes fixed on Hiccup’s face, noting how his mouth was parted in a groan and his brows were pinched.

“Hiccup?” She whispered, grasping his hand tighter. “Babe, you awake?”

Hiccup let out a slow exhale, but didn’t make any indication he’d heard her. She swallowed, glad to see that he was showing signs of wakefulness, but she wished she knew if he was in pain- or if he could at least hear her voice.

“Hiccup… squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

The seconds dragged into minutes for Astrid, but it wasn’t moments later before Hiccup’s fingers applied gentle pressure against hers. She let out a shuddering laugh, relief filling her as she bent down and kissed Hiccup’s forehead.

“I’ll be right here when you decided to open your eyes, Hiccup.” She whispered quietly, lying her head beside his and her free arm going above their heads. “Just rest, I’m not leaving you.”

Hiccup seemed to relax before he sighed gently again. Astrid gave a small smile as she watched his chest rise and fall in rhythm, the soft sound of his breathing lulling her to sleep.

Dawning in Dust: Part V

Claire had always had a knack for compartmentalizing. Whether it was life after her parents’ death, being a nurse in the War, or her recent life as a solitary nomad, she could separate herself from feeling and fear to deal with the here and now. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and set to work.

Despite Claire, Jenny, and anyone else’s opinions on the matter, Jamie had flatly refused pain medications. The stare down between the two siblings was something to behold, but the results didn’t change. He asked for a towel to replace his pillow, a few drams from the farm’s whisky stock, and to be left alone while his back was tended to. Claire had averted eye contact, but caught the gist of the Gaelic arguments going back and forth from all four Scots. They didn’t trust her enough to leave her alone with him, despite the fact that Jamie could probably knock her flat even in his present condition.

“Is… something funny?”

Claire started, nearly dropping the scissors she was about to use to cut his shirt open.

“Don’t do that!” she scolded.

“Sorry,” Jamie replied, though the curve of his mouth suggested he found her quite amusing. “Ought I not be concerned that ye were smirkin’ whilst preparing to slit my shirt open?”

Claire gave him a look. “Oh, I was not ‘smirking’”.

“Aye. Ye were,” he retorted, eyes gleaming with mischief. Claire gave him a look, then smiled and shook her head.

“I think you may be drunk my lad,“ she rejoined, putting the scissors on the table and seeing his raised eyebrow. “Alright. I might have been,” she conceded, taking a knee by the camp bed and pulling a hair tie out of one of her pants pockets. “May I?” she asked, holding it up for him to see.

“No, I am'ne and aye, ye can,” he replied, resting his forehead on his arms so Claire could pull his hair out of the way.

Being caught up in the bantering, Claire didn’t realize how tense Jamie had been. She reached to gather his hair, expecting the warmth of his body this time, but not his reaction. It was as if he unconsciously melted into her touch; like every wave of his copper hair that passed through her fingers rid him of some burden he carried.

Claire could see his pulse beating in his neck, steady but fast; goose flesh rippled over his arms; she knew without looking that he’d closed his eyes. He looked so young and vulnerable and yet he trusted her, a complete stranger, to do this. Trust was a rare commodity these days. She swallowed, placing a hand on his arm again as a sudden wave of tenderness swept through her. He opened his eyes and looked at her, open and fathomless.

“Ready?” she whispered.

He continued to gaze at her for a moment longer before he nodded.

“Aye, Sassenach.”

Claire exhaled, gave his arm a light squeeze, and picked up the scissors again. Jenny had brought a stash of saline and had soaked Jamie’s shirt with it in order to make its removal easier. Claire hoped to trade for some before she left. The antibiotic ointments and fresh bandages were lined up and ready.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she muttered, reaching for more saline.

Claire had hoped that the scabbing hadn’t fused with the shirt cloth but found her hopes dashed as she began to tug on the tattered pieces. Jamie’s skin tried to come up with his shirt. The extent of his injuries weren’t apparent while covered up but she could feel now how many lacerations he must have. Claire looked down, seeing that he was clutching the frame of the cot again. As if he sensed her, he opened his eyes to look at her again.

“Do what ye must. I’ll stand it,” he said gruffly, then shut his eyes again.

Claire pursed her lips, but went to grab more damp cloths from the hearth. Placing these by her other medicaments, she grabbed an end of shirt cloth and the saline bottle.

Alright Beauchamp. Squirt the saline underneath and pull the cloth. Stanch bleeding with the damp cloths. Assess. Clean. Disinfect. Possibly multiple times. Keep the wounds moist until scabbing shouldn’t result in infection. Now, how to do this on a large, pig-headed Scot who refused pain medication…

“This is a lovely place,” she said to try to distract him, selecting a bit of shirt that didn’t appear to stick as much.

Saline and pull, saline and pull..

“Aye,” Jamie muttered. “Aye it’s… been in my family since the 1700’s. Ancestral and all that. It’s a bonny place.”

“Mmm,” Claire agreed, pleased to see no bleeding from the first strip. “Are all your family fluent in Gaelic?”


Jamie’s forearms strained as Claire removed the next bit of shirt, taking most of the healed skin with it, but he made no sound.

"Aye,” he said after a moment, realizing the damp cloths Claire was dabbing him with wouldn’t hurt. “Since we were bairns.”

"That’s wonderful,” Claire replied, giving him a moment to recover. “Language is fascinating. Everything else may be shot to hell but people always find ways of communicating.”

"There are more ways than words to do that Sassenach,” the Scot responded dryly.

Claire wasn’t sure she heard him right but, looking down, saw one blue cat eye crinkled in amusement. She smiled and shrugged in assent, appalled to feel a blush creeping up her neck, but her mind returned to his back in the next instant.

God, what did they do?

"Alright. This is the worst part.”

He’d kept his gaze on her and nodded, gripping the cot tighter and setting his jaw.

Saline and pull, saline and pull…. Jamie’s breathing turned into hissing noises, but he still remained silent…. Saline and pull, saline and pull…. the muscles of his arms strained as he held on…

"Almost got it… keep still…” she breathed. Jamie responded with a huff of breath but continued to do as she asked.

Saline and pull, saline and pull…

"Done!“ Claire exclaimed triumphantly, grabbing for the last of the damp bandages to wipe the trickling blood away. Between the stress of removing the pieces of his shirt and the fire in the hearth, Claire felt her own perspiration make its way down her face and back. She wiped her forehead with her arm, then poured more saline on the cloths she’d put in place.

"Well done,” she said softly, bringing a cup of water for him to drink. “I need to clean and redress it, but that can wait a minute.”

"This isna whisky,” he said huskily, forming what he could of a smile. Claire noted the paleness of his face, but his eyes were still focused.

"I promise you’ll be fully rewarded later. Right now though,” Claire gave another Nurse Randall look, “I need you coherent.”

"Careful lass,” Jamie said as she stood. “A promise is a verra serious thing in the Highlands.”


The human body is a miraculous thing. So many connections and processes required for life to go on. Things seen and unseen that is the makeup of a person. Claire removed the cloths and gazed at Jamie’s back in fascinated horror.

"Bloody fucking hell..”

"Aye. It was.”

Jamie sniffed out an uncomfortable laugh, but the tension in his shoulders had returned. Claire took in his flayed skin, some wounds deep enough to cut the muscle underneath. How could he have stayed still like this, let alone ride a horse?


Claire jumped at her name, eyes snapping to Jamie’s. “What?”

"The uh, captain you encountered..” Jamie looked down then. “T'was him that flogged me.”

She nodded and blinked hard, then turned to her pack. He may have refused his sister’s medicines, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.

"Why were you flogged?” Claire asked, keeping her tone calm as she spread the topical lidocaine through the welts and blood on his back. It wouldn’t completely numb the area, but it would at least take the edge off.

Jamie made a Scottish noise. “Obstruction.”

"Obstruction? Does that exist now, with no one to enforce it?”

"It does if ye have the numbers to make it so.”

"And he does?” she asked, hoping the talk would at least distract from the first round of cleaning.

"Aye,” Jamie all but whispered, blue eyes staring straight ahead as Claire set to work.

"We served together in the Last War. Randall and me I mean,” he continued. “Near on four years ago now, they evacuated our companies from the mainland. I was… glad to come home, away from all of it.“

Claire felt a pang in her own heart at his words.

"Ye might not have noticed when ye arrived but we’ve many tenants near here. Small places that have been part of this land for generations. We didna have the old ways of collecting rents and pledging fealty but… we look after each other. The way it should be.”

"It sounds wonderful,” Claire replied softly, switching out a used cloth for a new one. “Are there many families?”

"Aye, a fair few. Not as many as there once was but-ah!”

"Sorry. This one’s very dirty.”

"S'fine,” Jamie hissed, burying his face into his forearm.

Claire glanced around for something else. “You still have lamps here. Old habits die hard?”

She saw Jamie smirk despite what she was doing to him.

"We’ve electricity.”

Claire stopped dead.


Jamie lifted his head and grinned at what must have been a flabbergasted face.

"Electricity. Dinna have it where you come from?”

"No one’s had electricity since the virus outbreak spread to the utility systems.”

"Well, this modest farm never tapped into the utility systems. We harvest it with old fashioned water power.”

"You’re kidding.”

"No, I’m not. If ye can patch me up, I can show ye tomorrow.”

"Nice try. You’re not moving from this bed for at least three days,” Claire replied, moving on to the next laceration.

Jamie gave a grunt of amusement, but silence soon followed as Claire continued her work. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but Claire felt a weight to it; it was as if something hung in the air that wasn’t quite tangible, but just within reach all the same.

"Why you?” she blurted. “Why did he come after you?”

“I wouldna give him what he wanted. He..” Jamie shook his head, as if to catch the right words. “It’s… personal. Wi’ him, I mean.”

Claire moved to the table to grab the antibiotic ointment. If the scars on this man’s back were any indication, “personal” was an understatement.

“What was it that he wanted?”

A moment passed. Claire thought Jamie was going to ignore her question, but felt him shift a little as he sighed. Exhaustion and sweat lined his body and, when he spoke, he sounded far away.

“Power. Respect. He demanded it, always. The thing he never understood was what it took to earn it.”

Sensing this was all he would say on the subject, Claire nodded, bending down again to smooth Jamie’s hair out of his face. Still pale, but eyes clear. He blinked blearily at her as she touched his cheek with the back of her hand. Slight fever.

“Rest now, hm? I’ll guard the whisky.”

One corner of Jamie’s mouth turned up and he nodded.

“I’ll hold ye to that, Sassenach.”

Claire chuckled, allowed her thumb one light caress of his cheekbone, then stood and covered his back with a light bandage. She’d have to redo the process again, but Jamie needed sleep first.

Claire turned to tell him so but looked down in time to see that his eyes had already closed and his lips were slightly parted in restorative sleep. Smiling to herself, she pulled a tartan blanket off the high backed chair near the head of the cot and laid it gently over him. Claire curled up into the chair, watching over him until fatigue dragged her under, forcing all thoughts and feelings blessedly from her mind.

Ok but

a ler taking sneaky advantage of skin revealed by clothes beyond the typical crop top.

Ripped jeans? Guess the knees are getting squeezes and thighs will be traced in the slits.

Shirt with a low-cut back? Definitely some upper back spidering in order.

And those tank tops with gaping arm holes leave that sweet spot - you know the one at the top of the ribs/bottom of the underarm - perfectly open for poking.

All accompanied by the appropriate teasing, “you should really talk to the company about this, look at all this exposed skin!”

‘Scuse me as I go breathe into a paper bag (and buy more of these articles immediately).

i honestly love that early 2000s fashion was a complete free for all where literally everyone was jst wearing whatever the fuck they wanted and it was more or less accepted… we could learn a lot from the early 2000s

The Tell Pt 1

Season 1 Masterlist

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 2,077

Warnings: Graphic, Minor Character Death

   I walked into the video store. In the background were the sounds of a horror movie playing. There was a guy on a ladder trying to fix a blinking light. I told him hello, and started to browse for movies. Horror, Sci-Fi, Drama, Comedy. What was I in the mood for? I decided tonight was a Rom-Com night, so I started browsing through the section.

   The bell on the door tinkled behind me, but I didn’t look to see who it was. The phone rang, and I thought I heard somebody go ‘uff’ but it could’ve been a trick of the ear.

Keep reading

the other high school au
  • root’s the cool leather jacket lesbian and shaw’s the ap bio nerd
  • very cute, but very focused on school (she’s going to be a doctor) and very not interested in dating
  • root rides her cool gay motorcycle to school. she’s very Dramatic. she does theatre and she’s REAL good at it. everyone’s low-key in love with her
  • does shaw try out for theater bc root is going to be one of the leads in romeo and juliet?
  • root is romeo
  • shaw is staring anxiously at the sign up sheet
  • john stands next to her
  • “the closet you’ve gotten to acting in this play is the report you did on it freshman year”
  • “yeah, so?”
  • “you said it was anti-feminist garbage. you said it romanticized suicide. your rant took up two class periods”
  • “okay, first of,f it is and it does. but I could kiss root. root groves”
  • john is so done
  • he grabs the pen, signs the sheet for her
  • “john. you have to help me run lines. i’ll do you next three chem reports”
  • "five”
  • “four and you don’t mention a word of this to my mother”
  • “FIVE and I don’t mention it to you mother or the rest of our friends”
  • “…fine”
  • (somehow joss and harold and fusco are there opening night)
  • shaw doesn’t get juliet (something about her being too scowly for the director’s vision)
  • she’s cast as tybalt instead
  • but hey, she still gets rehearsals, which means time to hang with root
  • and they still have scenes together
  • she spends a lot of time glaring at whoever gets cast as juliet
  • spoilers: it’s martine
  • that’s the secret behind all the tension in their scenes
  • the director thinks it’s sexual
  • it’s actually pure unfettered rage
  • plus, root’s a really good actress
  • but root refuses to kiss her. absolutely refuses. martine’s not complaining. it’s the one thing they ever agree on–they figure out how to fake a really good stage not-kiss
  • root dips her. her hair covers their faces
  • they just glare at each other with their faces very close
  • shaw huffs. “she’s not even GOOD or anything”
  • john’s heard this speech about ten times a day
  • “she can’t even remember all her lines”
  • “i know, shaw”
  • “and she doesn’t even REALLY kiss root. root GROVES. what’s wrong with her”
  • (as if there’s another root running around the school)
  • “i know shaw”
  • “and another thing–”
  • root takes this time to walk by shaw and wave. “great job today, sam!”
  • shaw chokes
  • grabs john’s arm
  • trips over her backpack
  • john yelps. he gets dragged down with her
  • “john”
  • “shaw, please get off me"
  • “john she knows my name”
  • “shaw, please, people are staring”
  • “john. root groves knows my NAME”
  • he throws her off him
  • she just lays there. dumb smile on her face
  • “where was that smile when you were trying out for juliet, shaw?”
  • “shut the fuck up, martine”
  • okay but how about the day shaw’s walking backstage and runs into root rehearsing lines
  • root looks up, smiles
  • “you busy right now?”
  • shaw shakes her head
  • words are hard
  • “mind helping me run lines? it’s hard to sell some of this romantic garbage with /martine rousseau/ as a scene partner”
  • oh god
  • root groves wants her to read for juliet
  • shaw’s gonna die
  • oh dear sweet gay god
  • shaw sits across from her
  • root hands her the script
  • shaw doesn’t need it though. she just stares at root’s face.
  • root’s got her lines down pat–she’s good at EVERYTHING, it’s annoying–so she’s staring right back
  • jesus
  • those EYES
  • she’s never looked root in the eyes for so long
  • they’re so big and shiny and expressive
  • shaw forgets how much she hates this stupid play. root’s doing things with her eyes that are setting the butterflies in her stomach on fire
  • they’re like five lines away from the kiss
  • root’s looking at her like she’s never wanted anything else in her life
  • and THEN
  • the director calls the start of rehearsal
  • root leans back, and everything snaps back to normal
  • just root and shaw, not the star-crossed lovers
  • root smiles, pats shaw’s knee “thanks for the help. i think i’ve got it”
  • shaw’s like !!!!!!!!!!!!! she TOUCHED me ???????
  • then martine breaks a leg
  • literally
  • zoe morgan may or may not have arranged for such a thing to occur 
  • john, carter, harold and fusco may or may not have all chipped in to pay her
  • the director holds a cast meeting
  • breaks the news
  • says they’ll need to look for a fill-in
  • root’s like “how about sam?”
  • shaw’s gonna cry
  • everyone’s like oh god no. the director’s skeptical
  • root’s like “she’s got it, trust me. we’ve worked together before”
  • winks at shaw
  • all that talent, all that game, and she still can’t wink
  • “trust me! we’ll run a scene together, you’ll see”
  • they run a scene. shaw can’t stop smiling. she’s so smitten
  • the director wonders where the scary grumpy girl went
  • “im glad miss groves has been able to help you reach your true acting potential, sameen!”
  • shaw grimaces. “yep. acting”
  • the director doesn’t want to keep it a period piece. it’s gotta be modern
  • so root’s in a goddamn tuxedo for half the play and her signature leather jacket for the rest
  • leonardo dicaprio style
  • she also tries to ride the motorcycle onstage, but the director vetoes it immediately
  • shaw’s rocking the little black dress
  • then there’s the kiss
  • they never get to rehearse it
  • with martine setting everything back the rehearsal schedule gets weird and they just never get to it. the director assures them it’ll be fine, these things come naturally
  • so it’s opening night
  • the scene is coming
  • but like
  • they get too into it. they forget to stop
  • they just legit make out for like 20 minutes
  • dead silence
  • they finish the scene
  • the play ends
  • thunderous applause
  • everyone’s looking for them. the director’s trying to take a cast picture
  • shaw has barricaded the dressing room closed and is furiously making out with root
  • root pulls back, panting. “hey, this weekend, would you want to–”
  • “yes.” shaw pulls her back for more sloppy makeouts
  • root pulls back again. “you don’t even know what i–”
  • “don’t care. yes”
  • root’s smirking through the kiss
  • shaw is making her way to second base when the door starts rattling
  • root pulls away again. “unless you want an audience in about 30 seconds, you might want to get off my lap, sweetie”
  • shaw is very happily marking the shit out of root’s neck. “don’t care”
  • a voice from the hallway: “sameen?”
  • shaw freezes
  • “your mother might”
  • they try to make themselves presentable. they fail. shaw’s dress has an interesting tear where the slit is
  • root’s dress shirt has lipstick all over the collar
four - bare

Glass Heart
Rating: M
And he was in the darkness, so darkness he became.

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The sun spots speckle his face through the leaves, leaving warm patches against his skin. Once the wave of nausea washes over, he rolls his head to the side, his dark, mysterious eyes finding violet eyes looking into his, the question still hanging in the air between the two boys.

“We’re traveling to another hide out,” he says, plain and simple. Suigetsu’s face shows confusion, as though he wants to ask something else but he’s too afraid. He does it anyways.


“I don’t need to give you a reason, you don’t have to follow me,” Sasuke states plainly, his eyes still looking to amethyst orbs, gazing through those windows and looking into the shinobi’s soul.

Keep reading

Let Me Hold You part 3

part 2 (with part one linked)=

Alright there is a mention of parental abuse but it isn’t described or anything…I just wanted to add a warning incase it triggers anyone.  You can skip it and continue reading after the first major break.  Sorry I didn’t update yesterday, I had a lot of homework and was not having a good day mentally for some reason.  I sadly work all weekend so I probably won’t update for a couple days but I hope you like it :) Drugs are mentioned as well.  Gif is not mine.

same rating as Sons of Anarchy I guess :)

Originally posted by soaimagine

Harley was cleaning up all of the broken bottles of last night’s party and glaring at the stains she did not want to know about when Juice spoke up.
“You know you don’t have to do that,” Juice stood up from whatever he was working on, she wasn’t good with electronics, and started cleaning a stain saving her from it.
“I’ve got nothing else to do.”  Harley shrugged her shoulders and looked over at Potato on the only clean couch.
“Can I ask you something?”  Juice stood next to her and tossed a rag he was using on top of the stain on the pool table.
“Sure.”  She tugged the bottom of her shirt back down to cover the top of her leggings.
Juice looked over her face and shifted from his left foot to his right foot.  “I ran a background check on you.”  Harley stared at him and twitched her nose.  She turned around and continued sweeping more broken glass.  
“Were they right?”
“Who?”  Harley asked quickly.
“The cops.”  Juice said, Harley remained quiet, “said your dad hit you, is that true?  I saw the pictures from the hospital.”
“Harley.  I told Jax and Clay, it was either me or them asking, I figured it’d be easier if I asked first but if you don’t tell me, they’re gonna come and ask.”  Juice turned her around and lifted her chin up so she looked at him.  
“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it, ok?”  Harley tapped her foot and looked back up at Juice, his eyes watching her face.
“Why’d you leave?”
“I didn’t feel comfortable in the house anymore.  Some people in town knew.  I just wanted out.  So, I just needed to leave.”  Harley clenched her jaw and crossed her arms over her chest.  Potato whined on the couch and she smiled over at him.  “They won’t be looking for me and I didn’t run from the law.  Are we good now?”  Harley tilted her head at Juice and he watched her, smiling after a little and pulling her into his chest.
“Yeah, we’re good.”  Juice hugged her until her arms slowly wrapped around his waist.  “Just so you know, we may be bad ass bikers but we respect women here, most importantly children.  That shit doesn’t go over here.”
“Ok.”  Harley sighed into the hug and rested her head in between his chin and his chest.
“Ah, damn it.  I was so close.”  Harley’s head whipped around to see Tig staring at the two, smile on his face.  Harley snorted as Potato jumped off of the couch and ran over to Tig, “that’s right, you still love me.”  Tig leaned down and rubbed Potato’s head.

Harley was leaning against Juice’s bed in his dorm, drinking from the rum bottle while Juice smoked.
“I want to learn how to bake.”  Juice laid out on the floor, resting his head on her lap.  Her hand fell onto the top of his head and she laughed.
“Looks like you know how to bake.”
“No like brownies and cake and that fancy shit on baking shows, you know?”  Juice thudded his head against her thigh to get her attention.
“I could teach you.  Maybe not that fancy shit but I can make a decent brownie.”  Harley ran her hand over his hair, enjoying the fuzzy feel of his Mohawk.
“That’d be awesome.  You sure you don’t want any?”  Juice raised the joint to her and she shook her head, drinking from the bottle.
“I’m good man.”
“Alright.  What’s something you’ve always wanted?”  Juice turned his head to look up at her and blew his smoke out into her stomach.
“A margarita in the shower.”  She answered automatically.
“I always want to and just forget and then it’s too late.  Or I shower in the morning and I can’t go to work drunk, that’s just a bad idea.”  Harley laughed and switched hands, putting her rum in her left hand and her right hand resting on his chest, rubbing lightly back and forth.
“I highly doubt Jax would mind.”  Juice hummed, turning his head into her hip, “god you are so comfortable.”  Harley snorted and took another drink.
“We should snuggle more often.”  Harley never really had much of a filter when she had enough to drink.
“We aren’t even snuggling now.”  Juice scrunched his eyebrows up at her.  He watched her face get red and he stood up quickly, loose limbs making him grip onto the bed.  He held a hand out to her and she put her hand in his.  He yanked her up and pushed her towards the bed.
“No, now I want to actually snuggle.  Come on you aren’t walking home like this and your dog’s already asleep.”  Juice’s head knocked into her neck and snuggled closely as he stubbed out his joint and picked up the bottle from your hand, screwing the cap on top.
“Shouldn’t you go grab a crow eater to spend the night with?”  Harley let him push her towards the edge of the bed and take off his sweatshirt that she borrowed earlier.
“I’d rather spend it with you.  Come on, lets sleep.  Sheets are brand new and everything.”  Juice smiled and kissed her cheek.  Her nose brushed against his and she smiled back at him.
“Ok.”  She whispered.  He jumped like a giddy kid and went to his dresser, pulling out sweatpants and a Reaper Crew t-shirt for her to borrow.  He went to the bathroom as she changed and she did the same for him.  When she came out of the bathroom, he was already laying in bed, almost same attire she had.  He patted the bed with a big smile on his face that had her rolling her eyes and she laid down next to him.  He pushed her one shoulder so she rolled onto her side and he slid right up behind her, pulling her into his arms and they both fell asleep with a smile on their face.

Harley snapped off the caps to beers and placed them in the hands waiting for them, quickly turning to grab shot glasses and fill them with Jack for the five girls with what looked like bras and underwear on.  Her eyes raked over their chests and she had to shake her head to focus.
“Did you just check them out?”  Juice’s voice over the loud music and the crowd outside calmed her nerves.
“Have you seen their boobs?”  Harley raised her eyebrows at him.  She leaned over the counter as she shoved the shots to the girls, “you girls are gorgeous and extremely sexy.  If you want Tig, tell him Harley sent you.”  Harley smiled and leaned back over.  One of the girls pushed her breasts together after taking the shot and winking at Harley.
“Oh hell, that’s hot.  Are you gay?”  Juice took in the interaction.
“No, but I can appreciate both genders.”  Harley smirked at Juice’s jaw dropping.  “Tig still in the ring?”  She added.
“Yeah, with Happy.”  Juice leaned against the counter next to her, his hand lightly resting on her left hip that was closest, pulling her to him.
“He’s actually terrifying.”  Harley smiled down at Juice, stepping over his legs so his were in between hers.
“Don’t ask him about the smiley face tattoos.”  Juice smiled up at her and let his thumb brush against the skin on her hip peeking through the slit of her shirt.
“I should get another tattoo.”  She said, Juice’s other hand shot up and gripped her, pulling her closer.
“Let me be there.”  Juice’s hands slipped under the back of her shirt.  She smirked and leaned closer, letting her lips brush against his ear.
“Girl’s getting tattooed turn you on, Juan?”  She placed her hand on his chest, letting her nails dig into his pecks lightly as he visibly shuddered.
“You are a Goddess, Harley.”  Tig yelled over the music.  Harley looked up as Juice let out a big sigh, letting his head fall forward into her stomach.  Tig had a big smile on his busted-up face with a girl under each arm, both of them from earlier.  Juice nuzzled his face into her softness and stood up quickly, startling a giggle out of her.
Harley patted his chest as he frowned at her.  She handed him a beer and nodded towards Tig.  “Go on, have fun with the boys.”  Juice sighed and left.