well that got that out of the way

So I popped into New York City today, did some fine stuff, went to Korea town and popped into a Kpop store. A young girl was in there with her father buying BTS CDs he told her she could only have one for now and a poster. She grabbed the Night Version of YOUNG FOREVER. Her father said “I thought you had this album already! I’m not buying you something that is the same thing!” She was trying to explain to him that it was not different but it didn’t work. I heard the conversation and explained to him that it had different pictures and posters and photo cards and these things are special to the fandom to collect all versions of their albums, etc. He said “oh ok, thank you for exposing it to me, I’m still learning.” The girl was very excited and told me thank you and I said “OF COARSE, ARMY HAVE TO STICK TOGETHER!” We high fived each other, after we discussed our Biases, in which she told me it was Taehyung and I got excited because even though Jhope is the love of my life and my bias forever, Taehyung is my sweet baby boy. We went on our way m, still shopping around. I ended up spending WAY TOO MUCH MONEY ON BTS THINGS but, I checked out and bought the girl in the store a cute little Taehyung key chains with a mini stand up and handed it to her before I left the store. She was almost in tears and we hugged and the father hugged me as well, they really couldn’t believe that I did that. It was a great moment. I told him, “please support your daughter. They’re good boys, this is what this fandom is, BTS ARMY. We take care of each other! Don’t forget it!!” He smiled and agreed that he would learn and understand. I’m pretty sure that girl will be aloud to be an army for life because of the kindness I showed them. It truly was a wonderful moment! I will never forget it.

Hide and Seek

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Prompt: “I lost our child.” and “Ready or not, here I come.”


“Uh, Y/N…I uh…I lost our child,” said Jensen, tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter. “Like legitimately, I haven’t got a clue where she’s hiding.”

“Well, you already got me so I guess she can come out,” you said, glancing around your first floor, wondering what new spot she’d discovered. “Um, and by the way dad, I’m so going hardcore after you this round.”

“Me? It’s not my fault you’re awful at hiding,” he said with a scoff. “It’ll be her turn anyways.”

“Oh you threw the parents truce away when you tattle tailed on me during Monopoly mister,” you said. 

“You were skimming off the top,” he said, shaking his head with a smirk. “Rugrat! You’re mom’s it! Come on out so we can hide again!”

“You shouldn’t cheat at Monopoly mom. Dad’s already awful enough,” she said, both you and Jensen jumping when she climbed out of the bottom pantry cabinet.

“What are you, a pretzel?” you asked, patting her on the back. “Go hide with daddy.”

“I got the perfect place. Mom’ll never find us. I am also not that bad at Monopoly,” you heard Jensen say as they jogged down the hall together. You knew they were upstairs somewhere by the time you finished counting, determined to get your husband at least once today.

“Ready or not, here I come.”

Creepypasta #1312: The Lolita Next Door

Length: Long

I’ve been next door neighbors with Kurt for several years, and as far as I can remember, he lived in with only one long time relationship that has been over for more than five years now. We usually acknowledged each other by a short noncommittal “How’s it going?”, just small talk, whenever we see each other. We weren’t close by any standards, but we looked out for each other the way neighbors naturally do.

I was coming home from work around 5pm when Kurt got out of the elevator just several minutes after I did, and walked to his apartment. He had his hand on the back of a small woman, or rather a girl walking beside him, carrying a small luggage. He noticed me looking and grinned.

“Hey there, Rob. This is Lia, my girlfriend.”

I smiled and looked over at the girl, because really she looked so young. Well, not young young as in like a little kid, but too young for Kurt. She looked nothing over 18 and Kurt is nearing his 50s. She was quiet but when introduced to me, she faced me and gave me a coy, but radiant smile.

“Hi, I’m Rob.” “Nice to meet you.”

She had olive skin and long, straight jet black hair, her head barely reaching Kurt’s shoulder. I was pretty sure she came from somewhere in southeast Asia. Her eyes were dark and enigmatic. She really was so unusually beautiful I had to catch myself from staring too much. I excused myself a little after that, and all three of us entered our own apartments.

“So. Have you seen her?” said Will one Sunday afternoon, another tenant from the building who works the same job that Kurt has. Will was pretty much the only guy I could spend time with in the building who wasn’t twice my age.

“Yeah I have, a couple days ago. Saw them enter,” I replied “Why?”

He snickered. “I bet that girl is barely legal. Bet he got her from those.. what did they call ‘em? Mail order brides?” Then he laughed outright. “Bet she thought he was loaded or something. Girls from third world countries always think we’re all loaded here.”

I didn’t answer, although I kinda wanna agree with him, about the age part. I couldn’t really give a shit whether Kurt met Lia through a mail order bride website or whether they just clicked online or what. Live and let live right? However, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Being neighbors with Kurt for years, I know what an asshole he is to women. Let’s just say, I’m glad the only woman he lived with for years has finally left him. But here we go again..

Days passed before I actually saw Lia again. I saw Kurt regularly, every time he goes to work. That one time I did see her, Lia was looking through a slightly opened door as Kurt left for work. Watching his back as he pressed the elevator door. She caught me watching her, and gave me a small smile before closing the door.

“The Lolita next door,” Will told me with glee one afternoon.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Just a random theory about Mina: what if she got mad because she has a dark secret. She tried to sabotage Star's party, what if she sabotaged the peace treaty as well, where as a consequence Moon's mother got killed?

That’s actually a possibility, since Mina seemed to be against the idea of peace with monsters, and taking Moon’s mom out of the picture could have been a good way to assure that war would have continued!

Still, we don’t know if Mina was already that crazy at the time. Even though in Monster Bash she implies that she’s been doing this for centuries, so she might be a lot older than she looks. Unless some weird entity possession is going on.

Breathless (Shaun Murphy)

Originally posted by ofnifflersandkings

Request: hihi can you do an imagine where you were admitted into the hospital for something ((you can choose!!)) & shaun helps you & the reader thinks he’s rlly cute so they flirt and hes just like whAt is going oN


“Murphy, you’ve got the asthmatic in room 405,” Melendez called out as he handed Shaun the chart on his way by.

“Asthma doesn’t require a surgery consult though,” Shaun frowned as he started to look over the chart in confusion.

“You are correct, but we all have to take care of non-surgical patients too.  Something about keeping us all ‘well rounded’,” Neil shrugged sarcastically as he headed for the nurses station.

Shaun gave a small shrug before heading off to the room Dr. Melendez had told him you were in.  “Hello, I am Dr. Shaun Murphy, your chart says that you had an asthma attack on your morning run and then you walked yourself in when you realized you were only a block away from the hospital?” Shaun blinked as he looked up from your chart.

“Y-yeah.  I’m new to the city, so I figured going for a run would be the best way to get the lay of the land.  I g-guess I just wasn’t expecting the city air to make my asthma act up,” you admitted with a breathless cough into the mask on your face, your cheeks flushed from the effort it was taking for you to breathe.

“That was a very stupid decision,” Shaun stated as he pressed his stethoscope to your heaving back, his facial expression unchanging as he listened to the deep wheezing in your lungs.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that, but I’ve never been one to make smart decisions when it comes to my health,” you laughed weakly as Shaun moved to start a breathing treatment.

“But your chart says you are a nurse, which means your health should be a priority of yours,” Shaun frowned in confusion as he studied your face.

“Nah, it means other peoples health is my priority.  Anyways, you seem to know this hospital quite well.  Do you know where a girl can get a good cup of coffee around here?” you asked curiously as he handed you the misting mouthpiece of the nebulizer.

“I don’t drink coffee.  Dr. Kalu would be the one to ask about coffee,” Shaun stated, shifting nervously as your gaze never left him.

“Darn, I was hoping you would know, you’re really cute.  One would say that you might even be taking my breath away,” you grinned cheesily at your horrible joke.

“Was that a joke?  I’m not too good at picking up on those,” Shaun blushed as he watched you take a few deep breaths of the medicine.

“Y-yeah, it was.  Not a good one though, how about tea then?  Or hot chocolate maybe as a thank you for helping me with this,” you offered with a motion to the nebulizer in your hand.

“Okay, I like hot chocolate.  I can bring you some when it’s time for your next treatment,” Shaun suggested as he sat down on the edge of your bed to rub your back.

“It’s a date then,” you smirked, looking very smug at the blush that covered Shaun’s cheeks.

Decided to put two requests in one since the way I wrote this fit them both (and because it got suuuuuuuper long compared to usual). It did get a little angsty for a while but it turned out fluffy in the end, I promise! I hope you guys like the way this turned out (and sorry for the wait /_\;)!


“… Well, of course, I know who the buyer is but I’m not sure who on Earth had it in their right mind to interfere with the operation! And I know those men were just lackeys so I’d really appreciate it if you could look into finding the ringleader for me, Iza-kun~” she spoke in a sing-song voice, trying her best to seem cute and endearing as she rested her hand on Izaya’s shoulder. The shirt she wore was low-cut, revealing more than it should have as she pressed her chest against his arm. Meanwhile, Izaya ignored her for the most part, only paying attention to what little (and pretty much useless) information she had given him on the whereabouts of her stolen shipments. This client was new, a foreigner from America looking to continue some underground drug ring fight club whatever it was. Apparently, she had ordered an illegal trade the night before which was pitifully sabotaged. In the end, she still lost some pretty high-end cargo and came knocking on Izaya’s door asking for information.

Unfortunately, you had been walking around the city that evening with Namie until she headed home, leaving you wandering towards the apartment you shared with Izaya. You had recognized your boyfriend’s voice relatively quickly, rounding the corner excitedly to greet him. Hand raised to wave hello, his name was so close to escaping your lips before you had realized that not only was he with the client he mentioned briefly over the phone earlier, but that said client was practically dry humping his hip at this point. Both walked your way still and you rounded the corner, shrinking back into an alley and gathering your thoughts. Yes, in his text that afternoon he had mentioned going to meet a particularly unique client; a foreigner, he had specified. Still, you didn’t expect her to be so touchy. The sight left a bitter feeling in your mouth even after reassuring yourself that he looked rather irritated by the woman’s presence.

You wouldn’t be so worried if you were dating someone more… average. Izaya was most definitely not, forcing you to recall the early beginnings of your relationship. The speeches you found so fascinating about his love of all humans, how they were all equal in his eyes, the way your heart leaped when you tweaked that philosophy and became a priority, a necessity to him. Sometimes though, you feared that maybe, as complex as Izaya is, it’s not as hard as you thought to stand out to him. That maybe being a bubbly foreigner could be just as alluring to him as you and your unique reactions when he posed complex questions that only he could really understand. It made you feel sick to think about it, especially when you had the image of that woman clinging to him ingrained in your mind. Despite the nauseous feeling it gave you, you couldn’t help but follow them out of some need, a sick sense of curiosity, or even worry. Worry that he’d leave you, not because you don’t trust him, but because maybe you’re no longer interesting enough to keep his attention.

Your footsteps were quiet, moving on impulse, ducking into alleyways when the pair in front of you turned to new roads. Sometimes it was a bit hard to keep track of them under the darkening evening sky but you followed still. Your mood darkening with every flirtatious comment the woman made and every too-friendly touch. It was both relief and a sense of impending doom that filled you when she handed Izaya the money and he accepted the job as you realized the dire truth; he thought you were at home.

You turned around, footsteps as quiet as they could be as you speed-walked your way down the street. Deeming yourself to have gotten out of earshot, your feet slammed on the ground as you burst into a full-on sprint, passing bystanders at a lightning-fast pace as you darted towards the apartment complex. The wind whipped your hair wildly as you rounded corners and made your way through side streets, eventually coming to the front doors of the imposing grey building. The lights showed from various windows which cascaded downwards into a luminous greeting, beckoning you to hurry in and situate yourself. You continued your fast pace towards the elevators and tapped your foot against the faux marble floor as you rode your way up, anxiety biting at you when you thought of being caught spying or maybe even being right about your earlier presumptions.

You slipped into the apartment and kicked off your shoes, your jacket being placed on the rack near the door. Wiping the sweat from your face, you rushed into the kitchen to start some semblance of a meal, glancing back to make sure you had locked the door behind you. The anxiety from moments ago seemed to subside a bit in the quiet apartment as you stir-fried vegetables and listened to the popping of oil, frying fish in the pan next to you. It hadn’t been maybe twenty minutes before your entire body jolted at the sound of the door lock clicking and a familiar face waltzing in past the threshold. You lowered the heat on the pan you had been handling and turned to greet Izaya who had carried himself over to stand in front of you, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

“Pretty late dinner, don’t you think? It’s almost 11:30,” he raised a brow before kissing your cheek and allowing you to turn in his arms and continue cooking.

The pans sizzled, nearly burning you with small splashes of oil as you carefully stirred their contents. You let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, taking a moment to think up a reply as you turned off the heat on the burners. “I took a nap on the couch when I came in a few hours ago, when I woke up it was almost eleven,” you started plating food, Izaya watching you closely from a few feet away. “How did your meeting with the client go?”

He was silent for a moment, only saying a quick thank you as you handed him his plate and made your way to the dark tabletop off to the side of the kitchen. Once you were seated you began to eat, still in silence. You were only half-way through your meal before Izaya spoke up, only having picked through his food thus far, “My meeting?” You glanced up, nodding and waiting for his answer to your earlier question. “Well,” he took a slow bite of his food, acting thoughtful as if he had already forgotten the last few hours of his night, “you would know, wouldn’t you?”

You nearly choked on the bite of salmon you were swallowing, taking everything in you to ignore the awful feeling of food being temporarily lodged in your throat and staying calm. “Not unless you told me before now,” you made eye contact, trying your hardest to seem inconspicuous. All you received was a neutral expression with the slightest hint of amusement dotting his eyes, much to your chagrin.

“You’re wearing your noisy shoes today, you know?” He took another bite of his food, you now being the one to pick awkwardly at the contents of your plate, “The ones that make that strange squeaking sound if you walk too fast.”

He knew. He heard you and he may have damn well seen you too! You were embarrassed, to say the least. The nervousness from earlier when the adrenaline had rushed through your veins during your run had been brought back in full, accompanied by a new sense of dread. A cluster of thoughts filled your mind. What if he’s upset with me? Come on, now. He does this for a living. But what if he’s angry that I didn’t trust him? What does he think of me knowing I practically stalked him all evening? For a while you sat in silence, returning to the earlier atmosphere but with a new tension on your side. Izaya continued to eat, eventually finishing and stacking your own near-empty plate on his, carrying them to the sink and coming back to his seat across from you at the kitchen table.

“____-chan, you’re fidgeting…” You refused to meet his eyes, your gaze locked on the table and his own sights set on the top of your head. Your face was hidden from view but he was confident you looked upset, if not unbearably nervous. “Come on, now, I’m not mad. Why did you follow me today?” His voice was soft, curious, “Not that I mind your company, but-”

He went quiet as you slid your hand across the table to rest a finger against his open palm. The contact was minuscule but the warmth where your skin met was enough for him to understand a bit; again silence came as you thought of your next words. “She- I- I didn’t… I didn’t like her, “ you paused, the both of you know that wasn’t what you meant. Well, honestly, you didn’t like her at all, but that wasn’t what you were trying to say. “The way she touched you, Izaya, the way she clung… You never told her to stop, never told her to let go.”

Your eyes finally rose to meet his own, gazes locked as you waited. He could tell you were upset, jealous, maybe even angry. Izaya paused a moment longer before replying, “I didn’t tell her to stop both for the sake of the deal and because I was…”

“You were what?” Your voice shook faintly, the feeling of bile rising in your throat at the answers you were dreading. “I want her.” “I’m bored of you.” “You’re tiresome.” “You’re not enough for me.”

The words repeated in your mind as he watched your hands begin to tremble, his own coming to hold them in worry. Worry for you and worry for himself because he knew that if you were reacting like this now, you’d really be pissed at his answer. “…I was curious about your reaction. I wanted to know how you’d behave being faced with something like that. I’m sorry ____-cha-”

You weren’t pissed as he had expected. Not even angry could describe you now; you were livid. Looking full of hellfire, your voice raised. Not in volume but in pitch, a telltale sign that you were hurt, no longer by the woman but by Izaya himself. “Sorry? You’re sorry?! I could have handled you being bored of me and I could have taken not being enough for you, but you didn’t even have a real reason?!” You stepped away from the table and from him, pacing throughout the room. You knew him, you knew he did things like this. He’d done “tests” like this before when the two of you first met but now you’d gotten comfortable. It had been such a long time since he’d targeted you for one of his little social experiments that you had grown accustomed to being his pride and joy and not another guinea pig. Apparently, you still were though.

Izaya stood as well, looking cooler than ever but only thinly veiling the guilt (whatever amount he could possibly muster) hidden in his expression. “____-chan… ____. I didn’t mean to offend you,” you shot an icy glare his way, his “apology” not being accepted. You continued to pace, seething in silence as he watched you, unsure of what to say or do to try and fix his mistake. Now you were not only worried he was no longer interested in you but you also had a new fear that you were just his pawn. Yes, everyone else was, always, but you had hoped to god you’d made it past that now.

Your boyfriend was still watching quietly until eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He walked up slowly, almost like he was afraid you’d run if he was too sudden in his movements, and put a hand on your shoulder. It was almost like a slap in the face when your entire body tensed up and you avoided meeting his eyes. You were pissed more at yourself for following him and unknowingly playing along than at him for setting the whole thing up but that didn’t stop you from blocking him out either way.

The room remained silent, the anxiety clouding your thoughts and soon enough the only thing you could really register was Izaya centering himself in front of you, both hands on your shoulders and thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric of your shirt. He didn’t dare to do anything more, merely stilling you and waiting for your next move.

You sighed, frustrated and exhausted and mulling over far too many complicated thoughts all at once. Every time the words tried to come out they caught in your throat and made you angrier, and every time you got angrier you wanted to scream. You wanted to scream at yourself, at Izaya, at the damned woman in the ugly shirt, at everyone! But each time you thought about yelling at him or raising your voice in the slightest, you would remember your promises to him. You remembered the day he first spoke to you, asking you some strange and out-of-this-world question before you replied accordingly and caught him off guard with your answer. You remember the surprised and curious smile stretching across his face with every word you told him as he walked you home. It made you smile. Only slightly, but enough.

You found yourself leaning forward, your head coming to rest against his chest as your breathing slowed. Izaya took this as his queue to slowly wrap his arms around you and pull you closer, your hands coming to rest on his hips. The soothing patterns being traced into your shoulders continued to calm you until you relaxed into him completely. You were still upset, yes, but primarily about that woman taking him away from you more than being a science project. The amount of anger you felt scattering its attention on every little made your head hurt and it all started falling out of place. You felt ridiculous for the shouting and you felt embarrassed about following him earlier. The most unsettling feeling of all was the strange sense of shame coiling in your gut. Where it came from or why it was there, you didn’t know, but it made its presence known.

Izaya tried to grab your attention, taking a step back but still holding his hands at your shoulders to try and ground you from whatever sort of sensory overload was taking place. “____…” he murmured, voice soft and tone concerned. Tears were pooling in your eyes from the emotional blur you were trying to make sense of; everything felt too complicated and too stressful and the blood pulsing in your ears got louder and louder the more you dragged yourself into your thoughts and returned to a state of distress. Izaya gently shook your shoulders, your eyes snapping to his and a tear streaming down your cheek. Your brows furrowed as if you were begging some higher power to answer your prayers, a look a pained confusion, distraught and at peace all at once. He could there was something else you had to say, something you were attempting to voice that refused to come out. The inkling theory of what it was swimming in his head, “What? What else is there, ____?” A hand rose to your cheek, thumb gentle against your skin.

You looked more troubled than before when the question registered with you; anxiety was bubbling up again and rooting itself in your bones for the umpteenth time that night. You sighed, words forming in a quiet mess of near-broken syllables as the sounds moved past your lips, “Am I…Am I boring? Are you bored of me? I-” The breath caught in your throat, choking you and almost bringing you to a full stop; tears were slow and steady, being wiped away every so often by the hand still resting against your face. “Would you prefer h-her? Are you done playing with me? Tell me, Izaya. Please tell me what’s left of us because I was sure I knew this morning but it feels different now.” Your voice was small and broken, eyes squinted to see through the tears as you tried your best to look at him, “Do you still love me? Do you still love me like you did yesterday? A week ago? A month?”

Izaya, not that he’d ever admit it, was taken aback. He knew he’d messed up that night, greatly so, but he never expected your thoughts to escalate so quickly and so drastically. True to his nature, he smiled at the surprise. He never planned on that sort of reaction, not at all, and he absolutely adored you for changing the game once again.

Despite the immense burst of joy he felt upon looking at the sincere pain in your eyes he had not planned to see, he knew he had to fix it. He may be a rotten man but he still loved you greatly.

The hand holding your cheek wiped away another tear as the seriousness was interrupted by the laughter softly bouncing about his chest. “Come here, ____. Come with me.” Izaya did not kiss you. He did not hug you or pat your head. He dropped the reassuring hands he held you with altogether, opting instead to turn and walk to the bedroom, you hesitantly following suit. Upon opening the door he stepped away to let you in, shutting it behind him. “Lie down for me, right in the middle, okay?” Admittedly, you were confused, the budding headache doing nothing for you as you obeyed. You went around the large bed, taking note of the duvet knocked to the floor haphazardly after Izaya had woken that morning, not bothering to replace it as usual. You sat, movements slow and unsure as you shifted your hips and scooted across to the middle of the mattress. There was a nervousness pooling in you, strangely enough; you practically lived here, you’d slept in this bed many times, and you’d slept alongside Izaya many times as well, and yet you still felt odd about what was happening, whatever it was. Maybe it was the stress of the past few hours or the fear of what answer you may or may not receive if Izaya ever acknowledges your questions from earlier.

You looked at him then, your hands fidgeting and picking at the strings dangling from the hem of your shirt as you watched him who looked like he was admiring you or maybe just losing himself in thought as he planned, you weren’t all too sure. You were confused further as he came forward, kneeling on the bed and making his way towards you slowly and carefully before coming to a halt inches away from your lips. He whispered softly, near-inaudible, and you could barely make out the words as you focused on the movement of pink lips.

“I love you.”

You looked confused almost, not having completely registered what he said; still, your cheeks tinged red and the widening of your eyes as you comprehended the words was enough to having Izaya chuckling once more before he leaned in to kiss you. “Let me show you”, he whispered, every possible mix of words died in your throat, the realization set in that he had every intention of taking you tonight. This was a plan of his to reach into you with every bit of himself and touch your very soul so you could understand. As soon as you nodded in confirmation, words betraying you once more, the most heartfelt reconciliation Izaya could conjure was set in motion.

Despite having every intention of being confident and careful and reassuring, Izaya was stumbling in the most novice of ways. He was so sure of himself in this plan to rid you of your fears and your troubles but he quickly came to the conclusion that he had, not for the first time, gotten far ahead of himself. His capacity for romance was limited, his social intimacy had been stunted since childhood, and his ego was boosted to impossible proportions; such was a recipe for disaster when it came to intimacy as he’d just realized. He had to give it some thought, wondering if maybe it was his fault you had gotten so much pent-up worry over the state of your relationship, if maybe he could have learned to be sweeter, more in touch with you. Instead, he’d been coasting across on his own idea of love and how he wanted love to be. Tonight, however awkwardly, he would learn what love you wanted.

Your face was practically on fire as Izaya reached for the hem of your shirt where your fingers had picked away at the loose strings, bringing it up over your head and tossing it to the side to land on the duvet in the floor. A kiss was placed on your lips and another questioning glance met your eyes, asking for permission to move forward. Again, you nodded, a hand reaching up to cover part of your face and an eye peeking between your fingers as you watched him move. Nimble fingers unfastened the button on your jeans before tugging the fabric past your thighs and off of your legs entirely. He stopped then, admiring the softness of your skin and the barely-there stubble from where you’d shaved earlier that week. His hands reached forward, almost timidly as he did so, to rest against your waist. Brown eyes set a heavy gaze on you as his thumbs made their way down to caress your hips. “Is there anything you want,” he came forward to kiss your cheek, “Anything at all? Barring the obvious, of course,” he took a moment to glance at the damp spot on your underwear to which you promptly snapped your legs closed, face turning to look away from him as he chuckled, an amused and adoring smirk stretching across his face before he kissed your cheek again.

“Shirt…” Your voice was quiet, sounding unsure of yourself and still hesitant, not quite comfortable yet.

Izaya leaned back to take a look at you (or as much as he could while you were avoiding his eyes so adamantly). His hand grabbed your chin, gently guiding you to face him and your gaze trying and failing to moving onto anything but him. “At any time can you tell me to stop. If you’re uncomfortable, say so. Please say so. This is for you only if you want it. I’m here for you. This is your time.”

Your eyes widened, the sincerity as he spoke so surely would have had you speechless were you not already struggling to speak previously. You nodded to him, stopping when you saw the questioning look on his face. “I- Okay…,” you still sounded unsure, causing Izaya to grab your hand which had moved to prop you up on the mattress. Motivated by his warmth, you steeled yourself, “I will. If I’m not okay I’ll tell you, I promise.” You locked eyes with him, your flushed face and determined stare were enough to have him cooing at you in his head.

With that he leaned back, pulling the fitted black shirt over his head and throwing it in the general direction of your own clothes, his pants coming next. It gave you a sense of comfort from the equal exposure, the both of you taking a moment to admire each other. It was so odd to see each other so naturally and so freely, accompanied by tented boxers and wet underwear, of course.

Izaya made his way forward, hand coming to rest just above your knee, another request for permission evident on his face. As much as you loved it, the constant double-checking was killing you. “Izaya, I’ll tell you to stop when I want you to, I swear,” you leaned towards him and planted a kiss on his forehead, pink soon coming to just barely dust his cheeks. He rolled his eyes, nodding at you and moving his hands up to the waistband of your underwear. Hesitant fingers slipped under the elastic before slowly but surely removing the offending garment altogether and flinging it to the side.

There was an unexpected sense of anticipation as he moved his hand to trace the glistening skin of your folds, a nervous excitement building in you both as Izaya poked and prodded at your entrance. Finally, he slipped the first finger inside, appreciating the sharp breath you took when he curled the digit inside you. With a few short pumps, going slowly to let you adjust and enjoy the feeling, he was moving to enter a second finger. His opposite hand came to trace your side and provide balance as he leaned forward to place gentle kisses across your chest, eventually settling on nibbling a pert nipple whose enticing silhouette had no trouble in capturing Izaya’s attention. His fingers moved faster within you, a third joining the others as soft whimpers escaped past your lips.

His movements began to slow at the trembling of your thighs, only coming to a full stop once he glanced up to see the lip caught between your teeth and the harsh rise and fall of your chest. Your face was flushed, reddening further at the needy whine slipping itself past your lips. “Patience now, ____-chan. We can’t go ending it all here, can we?” You squinted at him, making sure the look you gave him got across that the growing wet spot where the head of his cock strained against his boxers was not unknown to you, the physical proof of his own excitement being no secret. “…Anyways,” his cheeks flushed a bit and you giggled, a small smile making its way onto his face as looked at you. You finally seemed to relax, adjusting to the situation and taking things fairly well. He made his way forward a bit, both of your hands nudging his away and coming to rest at the hem of his boxers. What you tried make look like a request for permission only looked devious and downright enticing on his end. Instead of a nod like you had expected, he crashed his lips against yours, the unexpected force making your head spin and a grunt to emerge from his throat. Tongues clashing, you removed his boxers and began to palm at the growing erection standing proudly against your thigh. There was a bit of awkward shuffling as he reached into the bedside table, blindly popping open an unused box of condoms and stumbling to roll one on. Soon he was finally aligned with your entrance, face pulling back to look at you, panting. There was a string of saliva connecting your kiss-swollen lips to his, both of your faces were flushed and a new heat filtered through the air around you. “Ready?” You nodded, your hands coming up to wrap around his Izaya’s shoulders.

There was a muttered “I love you” before he steadily pushed inside of you, stopping to let you adjust every so often and waiting for you to nod and let him proceed. When your hips finally met you rested your forehead against his shoulder, taking a deep breath to steady yourself and then humming in reply when he asked if you were okay. Your voice was soft and a little shaky as you spoke, “G-go ahead, I’m fine now.”

He pulled out slowly, sending chills up your spine at the sensation of being empty again, before he snapped his hips against yours, ripping a gasp from your throat. He set a steady pace, as your nails scraped the skin of his shoulders, his breath heavy in your ears as mewls and moans filled the silence around you accompanied by the occasional slap of skin against skin.

Izaya’s lips made fiery trails across your throat, nipping at your collarbones, your jaw, your ear, and anything else he could reach and he pounded into you. Sweat started to bead at his temples, moisture sticking your hair to your forehead as he rocked into you, the bed frame creaking every so often from your movements. Pretty soon your legs were shaking again, your voice cracking as broken syllables and moans of his name fell past your lips, your own name coming from him in response. His pace quickened, movements growing sharper until he felt himself reaching his own peak. Suddenly he slowed, opting for long, hard thrusts. Each one bringing about new words, new reassurances.

“You are enough, m-more than enough,” another rock of his hips as you gasp out his name.

“No-one will ever take me from you, never,” a forceful kiss meets your lips.

“I could never be bored of you,” another thrust, your nails digging into his back. He moans quietly.

“I love you,” your walls are tight around him. “I love y-you, I love you, I love-” your orgasm makes you squeeze him tighter than expected, forcing him over the edge immediately, the last word breaking off into a low groan of your name.

Izaya rides out his orgasm, thrusts becoming slower until the two of you are just a panting tangle of sweaty limbs and feverish kisses, both of you coming down from the high. You can just barely make out the gentle fingers running through your hair as the two of you catch your breath, Izaya soon leaning back and pulling out of you, rolling off the condom, tying it and pitching it into the trashcan by the bed before he moves to lie beside you. You can feel yourself being pulled close to him and coming to rest your head against his chest, his words from earlier returning to the forefront of your mind and finally beginning to register. The reassurance, the solid confirmation that you really, honestly meant as much to him as you had hoped; it made you dizzyingly happy, a lazy grin making its way onto your face as you murmured to him, “I love you too, Izaya.”

You’re not sure how long it took after that for the two of you to fall asleep but when you woke the next morning you were pleasantly surprised to see his sleeping face, eyes shut peacefully and lips coming to an unconscious smile when you kissed him.


- Pasya

Why no art?

Well I got an art block… a really bad one. No matter what I draw it doesn’t turn out the way I want it to. I sketch and sketch but it all looks so bleh… So hopefully it will vanish soon. I want to draw so badly, I have all these ideas but I just can’t put them on paper.

18/11/2017

It has been ages since I posted a windowsill photo from my desk in the department. This is, of course, because I’ve barely been at my desk all semester, but I went in today to work on my seminar presentation.

As predicted yesterday, I am 10 hours (of focused work) into this powerpoint, and roughly halfway done. I have edited well over 50 images of coins, and tomorrow the bulk of the work will be finalizing their placement, and figuring out the best way to structure the argument visually. 

It has been raining very hard here today, and I always feel like I’m super productive in the office when it storms. There’s something about it that felt so reminiscent of first year, when I was in the office literally all the time, and it stormed all fall semester. Today, though, instead of riding the bus 20 minutes across town to my freezing attic room, Ian came and got me and we drove 5 minutes to our dope apartment :)

The theme music of this entire project/basically my entire life right now when I’m trying to be productive, is Spotify’s curated “Slaylist” for Nancy Wheeler from Stranger Things. It is a bombass playlist, and you should def give it a listen. My only criticism: no Little Mix. 

bluesnowbelle replied to your post: i pretty much work every day of the week as a…

for some reason, it’s thought that if you enjoy your job, it’s not a real job. but that’s not true! you can very much have a job and still enjoy it, there’s nothing wrong with that. besides, the “pretty much work full time, provide for myself and live in my own place” seems like the complete opposite of a NEET, no? and you also went to school, soo… ye :3 you are a very talented and hard worker who 100% enjoys what he does and there’s nothing wrong with that!! >u<

Aww gosh that’s really sweet of you to say <3

i think a big issue i got is that when it comes to social life i have pretty much none, and my way of life is essentially nocturnal so, well, i don’t go out for much else than to the store and to see my family every now and again

it’s like the fact that i’m cooped up in my apartment all the time, drawing, that feels like such an ugly thing, despite the fact that i do feel comfortable here. i wish i was less of an introvert but i can’t just change my nature.

i guess just my entire lifestyle makes me feel like a failure despite the fact i’m doing pretty well all things considered. as i said, it’s a toxic mindset that i really need to find a way to get rid of. i should start working out again tbh. u_u

brokenknifefrisk  asked:

"Oh, dear... do you have any fans you could turn on? That might help with the fumes while the windows are closed."

Jennifer: “…Actually we do have some big ‘shop fans’ downstairs, for keepin’ out the humidity when summer rolls around… maybe that would’a been a better idea… ”

Caddy: “And hurt yourself hauling those huge things all the way up here? Trust me, mom, it’s fine. I’ve got this sweater keeping me warm, either the place has aired out enough already or I’ve gotten used to the smell… and honestly, I’m just happy to see you doing something new with the place.”

Jennifer: “Well, things change, y’know? People change. And I think Seamus would’ve loved the color anyway… with or without spendin’ hours tryin’ to decide between ‘Fuzzy Bumblebee’, ‘Country Cornbread’, or ‘Lemonade Stand’… ”

Caddy: “That happened, huh? Well, if it was me, I’d probably just end up laughing at some of the sillier color names… makes you wonder whose job that is, to look at different shades of yellow and decide which one’s Honey Mustard and which one’s Honey Pie… ” 

Five Times Gabriel Agreste Caught Ladybug in His Son’s Bedroom (and the One Time He Caught Chat Noir)

Title: Five Times Gabriel Agreste Caught Ladybug in His Son’s Bedroom (and the One Time He Caught Chat Noir)
Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug
Pairings/Characters: Gabriel, Adrien/Ladybug
Rating: Teen
Notes: mentions of sex


“Adrien, your photoshoot has been moved.” Gabriel pushes open the door to his son’s bedroom, eyes scanning the tablet in front of him. “Nathalie will send you your new schedule for—”

His gaze flickers up, locking on the blonde sitting on the edge of his bed as well as the red- and black-spotted heroine crouched in front of him. Her hands on his knees, spreading his legs wide, face mere inches from his crotch, her blue eyes are wide with fright. A bright red has stained Adrien’s face, from the tops of his ears to the nape of his neck. Neither make an effort to correct their precarious positions.

There’s a stillness that follows his arrival, and all occupants freeze as they realize the predicament they’ve found themselves in. Gabriel’s mouth drops open, questions he’s not sure he even wants answers to on the tip of his tongue, but he still feels the need to ask.

“Adrien,” he begins, “Why is there a superhero in your room?”

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Welp! I’ve been meaning to draw Finny from @dailyskyfox for a while, because gosh darnit I love that blog and this guy is a cutie.

LES MIS MODERN AU — broship aesthetics: feuilly & grantaire

black coffee, paint-stained fingers and pencils tucked behind ears, hordes of hidden talents and hundreds of obscure trivia facts, beanies, ripped jeans, lying on the floor and staring hopelessly at the ceiling, grunted conversations, snarking at people when you’re tired, tinkering on instruments, backpacking trips to other cities, the steady presence at your side, charcoal smudges, late night takeaway, the coolness of dusk.   

This is actually an old post I wrote back when I first started this blog and apparently never posted? So yeah, enjoy :)

Headcanon that Rhodey is the first person to genuinely compliment Tony (there was Jarvis of course, but those words of encouragement were always tainted by Howard’s imminent disapproval and Maria’s distanced acknowledgement). 

The first time it happens they’re studying in the library together. Rhodey’s been watching Tony’s back for a few months now - because tbh the kid needs all the help it can get - and they’ve now reached the somewhere-between-being-friendly-and-being-friends territory. And well, Rhodey honestly likes Tony who’s funny and sarcastic and never lets anyone intimidate into keeping his mouth shut, which is why he’s decided to put more effort into this budding friendship (after it becomes clear that Tony won’t reach out but won’t push him away either, and damn does Rhodey want to hit his past self once he realises that it’s because Tony’s shy) and spend more time together. So. Studying.

Turns out they work surprisingly well together. Tony, known for his age, his genius and his complete inability to shut up, is actually very focused once he’s presented with a problem to figure out. Rhodey on the other hand is spurned on by the air of intense concentration surrounding Tony when he gets like that. It draws him in but doesn’t overwhelm him which is actually sort a perfect combination. At the same time Rhodey is stubborn enough to pull Tony out of his zone occasionally to get him to eat or drink or get his ass outta the library because we’ve been here for eight hours straight and you haven’t blinked in ten minutes, now move it! Suffice to say Tony becomes Rhodey’s new study buddy. Permanently. 

But on that very first day at what later becomes widely known as ‘their’ table, Rhodey witnesses for the first time just how intelligent Tony really is. Sure, rationally he’s known that Tony’s a genius. You can’t spend five minutes with the guy without realising that he’s smart. But this, watching Tony breeze through calculations Rhodey knows for sure the prof won’t even talk about until February is something else.

“You’re brilliant,” Rhodey says, wonder and amazement and respect all mashed into a confusing ball of emotions.

Tony’s head snaps up at the sudden sound, allowing Rhodey the pleasure of seeing firsthand how Tony’s eyes widen as his mind processes the actual words, confusion flashing across his face before he hastily ducks his head. And that’s, that’s unusual all right because Tony doesn’t averts his eyes, doesn’t back down, not ever, and now Rhodey is definitely almost worried. Except-

Except Tony is blushing. 

Rhodey blinks, mind frozen in disbelief because Tony doesn’t blush. Ever. But it’s undeniable, the flushed cheeks clearly visible even with his head bowed so low the tip of his nose is touching book. Rhodey opens his mouth, perhaps to tease, perhaps to change the topic, he honestly has no clue, when Tony peers up from under his lashes, all bright eyes and dark cheeks and a small, pleased smile that Rhodey has never seen before, and Tony’s never been out of place at MIT, always carried himself larger than life, but in this moment he looks so fucking young- and Rhodey doesn’t do any of those things.

“You’re brilliant,” he repeats instead, firmly. Holds Tony’s eyes patiently, until he’s sure his stubborn friend knows how serious he is, knows that he honestly, truly believes that. And then, when Tony’s hands start to twitch nervously and he swallows, clearly uncomfortable, Rhodey doesn’t comment on that either. 

It’s “Now help me figure out what’s wrong with this equation because Professor Lanz is gonna kill me for real if I get it wrong again,” instead of “You’re a wonderful, talented person who’s here on their own merit and not just because of who your parents are, never let anyone tell you different,” and “You still aren’t done with that? What have you been doing in the past hour?” instead of “Thank you.”

It’s Rhodey and Tony, and maybe it’s their beginning or maybe it’s the core of what they are together but it doesn’t matter. They’ll figure it all out on their own time, eventually.

And if Rhodey makes it a point to genuinely compliment Tony at least twice a day, just to see that beautiful, pleased smile light up Tony’s eyes again, well that’s nobody’s business but his own.

Soooooo. This got out of hand fast.

Epoch

Epoch (m) a period of time in history or a person’s life, typically one marked by notable events or particular characteristics.

Words: 11.3k

Genre/Warnings: smut, language and angst

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook

Summary: When Namjoon breaks up with you, you’re left wondering what to do. Realizing you’ve been unhappy with your life, you go off to Hawaii. In Hawaii, you meet a cute desk clerk named Jungkook who saves your ass. (Based off of Forgetting Sarah Marshall)


You were waiting for your boyfriend, Namjoon, to come over. He had just gotten back from New York, where he had a few concerts. You worked with him, you were a lyric writer and producer. He had called you last night, saying, that he would be getting in early and wanted to see you.

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My dear trans kids, 

Using body lotion or deodorant etc. that represents your gender identity can be one of those little things that make you feel happy when you are in the closet and can’t take any “big” steps yet. 

If you live together with someone else, you may worry that they will question why you use those products (especially when it would be unsafe if they found out you’re trans). Here are some possible excuses why you use them: 

General:

- “I get headaches from the scent of most deodorants, this is the only one I can tolerate”  

- “I’m allergic to (something that’s usually in those products) and this is the best one I found that doesn’t have it”  

- “I love to try out new things/I got bored of all (..) products smelling the same” 

- If gendered body care products make you dysphoric, you might like to use the ones for sensitive skin, they’re usually fragrance-free and gender neutral. Using those will (usually) need no explanation or excuse at all.  

- “I noticed my skin feels less greasy/irritated/itchy after using (…) products” 

- “I got this one by mistake/because my usual one was out of stock - and I fell in love with it!”  

For trans boys: 

-  “Men’s deodorant works better/is stronger”

- “Girly products are often overpriced, this one is not in a pink package but it works just as well and is way cheaper!” (You may have heard of this called “pink tax”) 

- For trans girls: 

- “Men’s products just smell too strong/I wanted a softer, more subtle scent” 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Mom 

PS: If using products that are labeled as the gender you were assigned at birth makes you dysphoric or not really depends on the person (and even for one person, may depend on the day or the specific product), so it can be anything from nice but by no means important to me to necessary for me to get through the day - and no matter where you stand on this, you’re “trans enough”!  If you read this and think “I don’t care about that at all” or even “But I like the way (..)’s products smell even tho I do not identify as (..)” or similar, that’s great, too! 

Time After Time

Summary: The five times the universe appeared to be against you when you wanted to ask Steve out.

Word Count: 4,447. (yikes, might want to grab a bowl of popcorn or feed your cat while reading this)

A/N: This is basically a remake of an old Peter Parker fic I wrote a while back, but of course I switched things up and improved it. Thanks to my pals @heaventide & @theassetseyeliner for being my betas. Hope you like! 

Originally posted by kings-of-my-heart


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self-control (part 1) - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Angst, some light cursing.

Summary: You’re in charge of homecoming but you don’t have a date.

A/N: OK, honestly I’m so proud of this you guys. It was like ten pages on a google docs. I hope you like it. I know a lot of people want a part 2 to twist of fate, and that will most likely happen pretty soon! But I want to do this as a series as well so we’ll see. Anyway, hope you all like it. I love the feedback, by the way, so tell me what you think!

Gif is not mine, belongs to the owner.

Originally posted by nwetss

The sound of the phone ringing woke you up. Startled, you ran a hand through your hair and looked around before registering where you were. Home. In bed. Things were normal again, right?

Wrong. It was two a.m and the phone was ringing. Why did your parents agree to get you your own line? You quickly flicked on your bedside lamp and then picked up the receiver. “Hello?” You mumbled barely coherently, slowly sitting up in bed.

“Y/N?” It was Steve. You could tell by the way he pronounced your name. Just slightly different than everyone else did. Like it had more meaning coming from his mouth.

You let out a long yawn. “Yeah, Steve. It’s me. What’s going on? Why are you calling me at-“ you glanced over at the clock on your night stand. “Two thirteen in the morning?”

“I haven’t been able to sleep at all,” he said, and you could hear the tiredness in his voice, all groggy and deeper than usual. “Let me apologize. Let me make it up to you. I fucked up, okay-“

“Fucked up is putting it lightly,” you cut him off, your words sharp like daggers. “I don’t want to talk to you about it. Especially not now.”

Steve sighed on the other line. You could almost picture him running a hand through his hair. You hated that you knew him that well. “Go to sleep, Harrington,” You said, and didn’t wait for a response before hanging up the phone.

You tried to go back to sleep but your mind kept drifting back to a few days ago, when everything starting going to shit.

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