with the suit and mean comments

i don’t want to be weird, but -

Cas in S12E07: “Dean, plaid is not sexy.”

Dean in S12E08

Dean in S12E10

Dean in S12E19

I really don’t want to be that person, but ever since Cas let slip he doesn’t like Dean’s ‘lumberjack’ look, Dean’s stopped wearing plaid around him (Sam hasn’t, because why would he?). I mean, I don’t know what happens in between episodes, and apparently a lot does, but on screen, every single time Dean’s been with Cas after Rock Never Dies he’s chosen to wear a ‘normal’ shirt.

The only exception is S12E12, but, whatever, I’ll forgive that episode anything.

And, of course, for the purpose of this post costumes don’t count, so I haven’t included suits or anything, but just as a reminder, this is what Dean changed into after Cas’ bad-tempered comment - and I’m willing to bet half my liver those were not random clothes he had in his duffel - he went out and bought them, because lumberjack? I’ll show you who’s a fucking lumberjack. Dick.


             “You mean me making sexually suggestive comments to our IT guy?”                                                                          “He has a name, you know.”                                                                                              “I do, but I’d be shocked if you knew what it was.”

Read this if you read fanfics

I just read a fic which I personally really like and when I went to the comments section, it was so disheartening. Nearly everyone was so rude and hateful and completely disrespectful of the author’s efforts, all simply because the fic did not cater to what most of these people like. So in honor of this author and every other fanfic author, let this be a reminder to all you fanfic readers

  • fanfic authors are NOT obliged to please your personal preference
  • they can write whatever they want to write
  • they don’t owe you anything
  • they are writing fics for free, for fun, and they put a lot of effort into it. So at the very least, be respectful.

  • No personal preference is better than the other.
  • a more popular preference (ships, AU, etc) does NOT make it any better than a less popular one. All it means is that more people happen to share the same opinion for one and not the other. That’s it.
  • Remember that “personal preference” is basically an opinion. There is no right and wrong. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.

  • Being entitled to your own opinion does NOT justify you being a rude asshole

  • if you don’t like it, shut up and just leave. there’s no need for you to ruin someone else’s confidence by insulting their efforts just because it didn’t suit your personal preference

  • if you DO enjoy their work, please leave kudos and comments.
    You know damn well yourself that even just one rude comment can ruin the author’s confidence, or ruin their day, or make them doubt themselves. So please help to compensate that by leaving loving comments. If you like what they wrote, voice it out. It’s very encouraging and the authors will appreciate it A LOT.
The Guys Wearing Bees


Gucci sweatshirt with bee on front


Gucci shirt with bees

Harry in Gucci Spaceboy cardigan with bee on it in January

Harry in Gucci Rainbow Bee loafer boots (they have a bee on the back like the ones shown below on the band loafers):

Harry’s Band:

Harry’s band wears matching Gucci bee loafers


Gucci Low Top Sneakers:

Gucci Jacket with Bee on Back:

back of jacket:

Liam wearing Paul Smith Bee Pin:

(thanks to the accounts that exact these outfits)

Anne in the Gucci Bee sneakers:


Harry wearing yellow and black at airport before bee tattoo was revealed:

Harry wearing yellow and black while shopping

Anne wearing yellow and black at Parkinson’s disease charity event:

Harry on Quotidien in yellow and black Gucci suit with the Rainbow bee loafer boots:

(x, x)

Just a note: I’ve noticed a few antis commenting that the bees don’t mean anything because they are “just wearing Gucci” but Gucci has tons of clothes, shoes, etc. that do not feature bees (in case you weren’t aware).

Everything’s Better with a Beard

Steve x Reader
WC: 1889
Warnings: Swear words, masturbation, oral sex
Summary: Reader has a crush on Cap and wonders what he would look (and feel!) like with a beard…
AN: I feel like I haven’t been giving Steve enough love lately plus with all the commotion about Cap with a beard, I had to give this a go. Though I will admit, everything is better with a beard…Also, I’m kinda wordy…sorry

It was one of those nights where just the girls were hanging out. It was a rare opportunity and a nice feeling, You were all at various levels of intoxication sitting together around the living room area and conversation flowed as easily as the wine.

“You know, we probably should have made more snacks,” mused Pepper, always looking out for everyone.

Maria and Natasha snorted, “Please,” replied Natasha, “Eating just means less room for wine!” She raised her glass in a toast, “To us!”

Everyone cheered.

“Ugh, what’s with this lumberjack look?” commented Maria, while flipping through the pages of a magazine. “Whatever happened to clean shaven, respectable looking men?”

“Now now,” Pepper scolded her, “Goatees are pretty sexy,” she smirked.

“That’s because a goatee is groomed, but a beard? Yuck,” Maria retorted.

“I don’t know,” you chimed in. “I’m of the personal philosophy that a beard makes everything better.”

Natasha nodded in agreement. “I think some men just suit beards… Though I suppose the true test is if they look good with a beard and without one.”

Maria disagreed, “But beard burn? Eww. I’m a grown-ass lady. I don’t need evidence of my necking.”

You laughed at her, “First of all, how old are you? Who says necking? Secondly, I dunno… there’s something about the roughness of it… All scratchy and manly.” You could feel yourself blushing, as if you had said too much.

Just then, the guys entered the room. You were fairly certain that they hadn’t heard any of the previous conversation. You took a long swallow of your drink, hoping it would cool you off.

The topic of conversation turned to the upcoming mission. You were one of the two remaining behind as your particular skills weren’t needed so you didn’t really pay attention to the conversation. Instead, you casually observed your friends, one in particular, until Natasha elbowed you.

“You’re staring,” she muttered to you.

You felt yourself turn red again. Apparently you weren’t as casual as you thought you were.

Leaning into you, she whispered, “I wonder what Cap would look like with a beard.”

You had often wondered the same thing.

Keep reading

Because They Can (Holy trinity x FemReader) fluffy drabble

Originally posted by pewdieberg

(( gif not mine - cutes ))

(A/n): ahhhh kill me

Request:  Request! Fem!Reader is a popular gamer who collabs a lot. After several hate comments about how “a girl can’t play videogames,” her friends Mark, Felix and Jack cheer her up through a Skype call. If you do this request, I would really love it if you’d tag me though I understand if you would prefer not to :D

Warnings: lmao swearing





Not being able to coordinate yourself, your character ended up going backward by your control. You did not, in anyway, trust the front bend. Regardless of what Felix was trying to tell you.

You ended up dying.

“Oh, for fuck sake.” you grumbled, allowing yourself leeway to fall back in your chair.

“What,” breathed Felix “did I tell you.”

Together, Mark and the Irishman laughed heartily and looked into their set up cameras. You couldn’t help up pout at their joyous outbursts, hearing Felix tune in as well.

“I don’t know!” you began to defend, sitting up right again to reload the game.

“If I were to go down the front bend, I would’ve gotten jumped by 1A. I mean, they have lighter weaponry, but they had more soldiers.”

Beginning to mutter, you finished with “2B had less people so I thought I could just… slip by.”

Mark spit a bit before he laughed again, and said:

“I don’t think that’s how that works, hon.”

You only scoffed and challenged him with a “We’ll see.” before starting up a new map and inducing them to join.

Though the game had already started, and Jack and Felix were continuing commentary; you were slightly distracted by the comments of your stream.

Something’s about girls and games.

“Jack, if you round the corner onnnn…” you drawled for a moment before making up your mind “your second left, there is spare ammo in that wedge.”

“For sure?” confirmed Jack, clicking away at his mouse.

“Yeah, I remember. But, don’t pick up all of it, you won’t have room in your pack left.” you explained further “Utilize the space as much as you can so that you can pick up things like torch batteries. Yes, you will need them in the third map; second half.”

Mark seemed to be confused for a second, peering into his camera lens “Have you played through this before?” he asked.

“No.” you answered “You can just assume, because in that map, the only places to ‘hide’ in are the forest caves. Which are dark.”

Mark and Jack pushed out a chorus of ‘oh’s and thanked you heartily. Felix and yourself laughed, and you allowed yourself to glance at the chat once again.

“Should we take maybe five minutes to read over some things in the chat?” you suggested. The three boys agreed.

“Suuure thing.” sang Sean. Quickly, he leaned back in his chair and stretched himself fully; making inhuman groans with his mouth. You winced quaintly and chuckled.

“Uhhhmmm..” Mark sounded uncomfortable “these aren’t very appropriate.”

You were struck by confusion at first, offering your lens a childish look. You then checked, and read several comments in the below chat.

‘she’s pretty dumb for getting killed so easily lmao’

‘idiot move (Y/n)’

‘why girl’s shouldn’t play video games ^^^ they will get you killed smh’’

‘airheaded bitch wtf’

Well, shit. You wouldn’t have guessed people were still this immature. Have to admit though, you were a little peeved they totally bypassed everything you had just said.

“They mean me…” you mumbled half hearted.

“Yeah,” Felix said, sounding detached “they do.”

The four of you kind of sat in an uneasy silence. The chat slowed, some viewers even slightly apologizing.

Until one:

‘yea and? now get her off the stream ffs’


Mark was the first to admit how rude that was, giving his camera lens an uneasy stare. Jack followed suit with a disapproving look- the kind that tore out the hearts of his viewers.

Felix- well Felix killed it. He went on a lengthy rant about how sexist the comment was and how much of a douche that made them for saying it.

He went full rage.

“Do you want to… continue the stream?” you mumbled, silently hoping they would say no. You were alright, just feeling a little defeated at the moment. You felt as though you couldn’t hold yourself in front of any audience any longer.

“Not really.” said Mark, still glaring at his camera “Not at all…”

“Not anymore, I don’t.” agreed Jack.

The atmosphere hung thickly around the situation. Countless times, viewers that were actually trying to enjoy the stream apologized for the words of the ignorant. You almost felt bad.

But not too bad when you reached up and shut down your stream recording camera.

Felix, Sean and Mark did the same.

Silence. The skype call and webcams remained.

“(Y/n) don’t be sad.” said Felix. He smiled at you.

You managed your own grin and told him you weren’t sad. Afterwards, you thanked him for standing up for you.

“Don’t be a sad pupper.” giggled Mark effortlessly. He was really, heavily worried. Though, the male wasn’t sure it came across in his voice.

“No, no I’m not sad… defeated maybe.” you clarified.

Felix was a little heart broken. You were one of his closest friends, he didn’t need to see- or hear you sound so… deflated.

“Well they are just fucking… fucking dickholes.” he demanded stiffly.

“I swear to god, if any other small brained, chapstick looking mother dickbag says one more thing, I’m moving to America and starting a rally.”

You laughed quietly at the Swede’s declaration “Mother dic-”

“Mother dickbag.”

That made you at least chuckle a little, along side Jack and Mark. You were glad to be charmed by Mark’s deep falsetto of a laugh and Sean’s warm welcoming giggle.

“Hey hey don’t worry, she already lives by me. I’ll punch everyone in the face and then give her a hug.” stated Mark.

“I’ll regulate who can and cannot comment of her videos- only the very best may speak to her.” offered Jack, sounding proud.

You giggled some more, joined by the entire group.

“You guys are like my protection squad…” you uttered, filling with joy at an alarming rate.

“Well I mean,” said Jack.

“If we aren’t-” continued Felix, as he laughed.

“Who will be?” Mark finished, winking into his webcam.

“Only my three knights.”


(A/n): beauty

I have given up on doing them in order. As long as I get them done so I can allow requests again, I’m fine

SM is not appreciating Lay enough. Please repost.

I want more people to see this. Please repost. People need to see what Lay, Zhang Yixing, has done.

I was just watching EXO Monster music video, the Chinese version. A lot of people were saying Lay wasn’t getting enough lines in M versions and how it’s a Chinese song where the Chinese get two lines. Then you get comments like:

“Well everyone needs to remember that everyone has their designated roles in the group. Lay has improved greatly in terms of singing, and he is indeed better than he used to be, but he came to SM as a dancer. Just because he’s Chinese does not mean he has the right to all the lines.“

“Maybe Lay’s voice didn’t suit some lines within the song in comparison to the other members.“

“The problem is that he can’t sing as well as baek and kyungie.”

“…because LAY has too much personal activities…”

I don’t even want to continue.

People keep saying ‘Why do Chinese members keep leaving’ and how Chinese people always ‘leave for money’. Look, Lay is here staying in the group and not going for the money and supporting his brothers, he is keeping to his words ‘we are one’. Yes, it’s true that Lay has his own personal studio in China and is doing variety shows and dramas in China but he still has to give SM a big part of his income. Don’t know whether it’s 100% accurate but according to a website in China, half of Yixing’s personal studio staff was employed by SM and Yixing has to give 70% of his income to SM. Well, 30% of is income is actually a lot considering how well he’s doing in China but bare in mind Yixing is the one doing all the work and he has to give SM 70% of it. 

Lay has make his way into the Chinese market and had gotten so popular recently starring in variety shows like Go Fighting and honestly, he can do so much better and so much more if he left the group and focus on his career in China but is he leaving? No. He’s not leaving. The reason why Chinese members keep leaving is because of this. This is a song in Mandarin and a Chinese members get two lines. TWO FUCKING LINES. Kris and Tao used to get one lines or two lines in songs and maybe not even have a proper line in K versions. If you search Kris voice on YouTube, someone made a compilation of his solo lines from MAMA to Overdose (M and K version included) you would find that he only had 8.33 minutes overall. And for Tao, he only got 4 minutes. There is a reason why members want to seek for more opportunities and want be able to do more. There are members like Sehun where all his lines were E-X-O (well he did have more lines in Love Me Right and recent songs).

How do you expect them to still stay when people like Kris who trained for 7 years, not knowing whether he’s going to debut and when he does, he get two lines in a song(except raps) and would always be placed at the back while performing live. He was originally supposed to debut after training for 3 years but the date got pushed back and SM told him, ‘Just wait another year.’ Another year became two years, three years, four years. He had became the foreign trainee who has trained for the longest time in SM. How do you expect him to still stay? I don’t even want to go into how Kris’s body conditions were and how he has serious problems with his body. See how well Kris doing in China and even starred in Hollywood films, would he be doing that if he stayed? 

Back to Lay. I hate it when people say stuff like “Lay only focus on his career in China and doesn’t even do EXO stuff anymore.” Excuse me, how dare you say that. Yes, Yixing did spend a lot of time in China filming and doing variety shows but he’s trying so hard to keep up with both EXO and himself. Let me tell you Lay’s schedule and after this you wouldn’t dare say he doesn’t try. 

This is his schedule for the past two months. 


5th-Beijing to Gimpo

9th-Incheon to Shanghai

13th-Back to Korea

18th-Incheon to Beijing

19th-<To Be A Better Man> Conference

20th-Beijing to Seoul

23th-Incheon to Xiamen

25th-Xiamen to Shanghai

28th-Hongqiao to Seoul


5th-Seoul to Shanghai

6th-<Old Nine Gates> Conference

6th-Premiere of <To Be A Better Man>

7th-Back to Korea

8th-EXO comeback showcase

This was his schedule for the past two months. How dare you say that Yixing is not doing enough EXO stuff. Not a normal person can bear with the stress and tiredness flying almost every two days. Why do you think he keeps flying back to Korea? He could have stayed in China since he has so many conference to go to. It’s because EXO comeback has a lot of planning and practicing to do. If he has ‘given in to money’ like some people like to say, why do you think Yixing has given up his time for resting and flying back and forth China and Korea. If he has really ‘given in to money’ why shouldn’t he just leave? Why does he keeps mentioning EXO in China? At the end of interviews he would always tell people to not only support him but also EXO. He doesn’t need to do any of that. He really don’t. He could’ve just left and continue what he’s doing in China. But he keeps his promises. He promised to stay with the members, he promised to not leave, he promised to prove that Chinese people are trustworthy. 

You can’t judge Yixing if you haven’t tied sandbags to your body to practice dancing for almost two years just because you think your dancing wasn’t going anywhere, it was to a point where he can’t even stand up because of the damages he has done to his waist. You can’t judge Yixing if you haven’t seen the amount of time he puts into making a ‘better Zhang Yixing’. You can’t judge Yixing if you haven’t had a cramping leg but still managed to finished a short interview and the whole Love Me Right choreography and immediately collapsed to the ground after the performance. These are all happening when people call him names like “attention seeking bitch”. He is still standing. He doesn’t deserve all this. He doesn’t even to work half as hard but chose to because he wants to prove to all those people who judged him, who attacks him, who call him names. If you haven’t gone through what Yixing has gone through, what gives you the right to judge him? 

“Hope that I will be able to let the others see, everything of Zhang Yixing is good, only then I feel it’s really amazing. Let the others see he result, the process ins’t really that important.”-ZhangYixing 

If you’re judging him or has judged him, think about whether you’ll be able to go through all this and still put on a smile for everyone.

Zhang Yixing is so hardworking and is such an amazing human being. SM need to change, and SM need to appreciate the effort Yixing is putting into EXO. 

We’ve already lost three members, we couldn’t afford to lose more.


Cassian Andor x Reader

Summary: When Y/N overhears Cassian and K2 talk about how she isn’t the right fit to work a certain mission, she begins to question herself and does everything she can to better herself while also damaging herself in the process.

Warnings: Fainting, blood, angst but then fluff  

I do not own anything!!!

Originally posted by oscaricaas

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My Dream

Alright, this may be a long post but I need your guys help with something.

So basically, I’ve been having the same dream for a few nights now; and obviously, being me, its been a Sherlock based dream.

What happens is from the perspective of Rosie Watson but like 16 years old. It starts of with a Rosie meeting a boy( lets call him Eddie) and falls madly in love with, much to John and Sherlock’s dismay. They want to protect her from the heartbreak of a first love. Then comes a montage of them falling in love (watching the Breakfast Club (just because) and just general lovey dovey things) and him eventually winning the love of the two dads. It then stops and shows Rosie and the mysterious boy entering one of the pods of the London Eye, all by themselves.

Originally posted by trololololololololooo

Sherlock and John are currently working on a case that is close to home and threatens them and Rosie, someone who knows them well, but its someone that wants to hurt them…. They go through everyone: Molly, Lestrade, Mycroft, even Mrs Hudson. But then it clicks, and John says “what’s Eddie’s last name?”

Then comes the weird bit. The song “I’m Still Standing” starts playing.

It all begins to get really fast, John and Sherlock running through the streets of London, trying to get to the Eye as fast as they can. On the other side, there is Rosie and Eddie, sharing earphones. They then kiss. As the imaginary camera pans round them, a figure is present in the background, the figure has black hair, and is dressed in a suit and tie. The song then stops.

He steps forward, and taps Eddie on the shoulder. The man says “Come on son, when were you going to introduce me to your little friend.”

That man, was Jim Moriarty. 

Originally posted by aphgeneralhux

The dream usually ends there. WHAT DOES IT MEAN?! I was thinking about making this into a one shot but I wondered if you wanted to continue it in the comments?

Sober - Part 3

G-Dragon & Song Mino Angst 

Word Count: 3,616

Part One  Part Four

Originally posted by peaceminus8ne

Originally posted by ta-ehyun

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I really love Ahiru’s ducky outfit <3 She’s so adorable and bright and cheerful ;v; )/

That being said, I got some comments on my last picture of her saying it looked like some weird ‘humanized Ronald Mcdonald’

I just wanna point out that it’s kinda super rude to say that any any art “Looks like [insert character here]!”. Even if you mean well, it’s not fair to an artist who works hard at what they do to label their work as something to suit your own interests. I’ve seen it time and time again, especially with OCs or original content.

Unless they asked you to guess, it’s not fair to slap your own label on something they didn’t ask you to. If you don’t understand the picture, move on. You can find your own kawaii Ronald Mcdonald somewhere else, thank you. This is my hero, Ahiru.

Only Us (Part Four)

Originally posted by lauraharrier

Pairing: Peter Parker (Tom Holland) x Reader

Summary:  What happens when the reader saves Spiderman…while he’s saving you? (things have changed but fuck it I’m still using this summary cuz idk)

Word Count: 2170

Warning(s): Swearing

Additional Notes: If you would like to be tagged for every part of this series let me know by commenting or something else idk

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 

“Not your best Y/N.” Mrs. Linden passed me placing my recent algebra test on my desk. I turned it over revealing my score. I groaned internally as I read it. D-, I hated algebra. “See me after class.” She added before carrying on giving the rest of the students their tests. I cowered furrowing my eyes at the paper as the end of class drew closer. The bell rang out signaling the end of the class. I stood up as I grabbing my test walking to the front of the room. The rest of the class slowly made their way out of the classroom. “Y/N.” Mrs. Linden nodded sitting at her desk. “I had asked you if you would attend tutoring lessons. And obviously you haven’t taken me up on that offer.”

“I don’t really have time—”

“School is very important Y/N. You need it to get further in life.” She responded. I opened my mouth to reply before she started again. “That is why I am giving you no choice. Ned has agreed to tutor you—I believe he talked to you already.”

“Yeah he did.” I responded.

“Good.” Mrs. Linden smiled and stood up. “Meet him in the library. He should be expecting you.”


“This is the only option Y/N Y/L/N. You will fail unless you start getting better and it seems like you aren’t putting forth any effort. So this is your only option.”

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  • Sirius Black: I got to say, Lucius Malfoy looks good.
  • Remus Lupin: Being a prick keeps you handsome.
  • Sirius: Are you saying that I’m handsome?
  • Remus: The fact that you think that comment was directed at you makes you self-centered and vain at the same time.
  • Sirius: Doesn’t mean it wasn’t directed at me.
  • Remus: It was.
  • Sirius: Which means I’m also omniscient. And handsome.

anonymous asked:

Concept: youve pissed harry off so he spanks you, ties you up, and then gives you the ultimate punishment of cumming on ur tummy rather than in you and the night ends with a hot, pink bath bc aftercare <3

and it’s like you didn’t even mean to make him that mad, you swear!! It was just an offhanded comment, and you were feeling a little grumpy already that day so it might’ve come out snippier than usual, but Harry was quiet the whole way home. When you entered the bedroom he was sat, still adorned in his suit, at the edge of the bed with his legs a little spread and you knew what the meant. 

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Timeless EPs Talk Rittenhouse Twist, [Spoiler]'s Condition, Season 2 Plans

Warning: The following contains spoilers for Monday’s Timeless finale

Timeless dropped a mother of a twist during Monday night’s finale when Lucy’s mom, Carol (played by Susanna Thompson), revealed to her daughter that she’s a member of Rittenhouse. That makes Lucy something akin to Rittenhouse royalty, coming from two of the mysterious organization’s strongest bloodlines.

“Rittenhouse has an operative on the mothership” — that would be Emma, who’s a mole! — “and soon they will control everything: the past and the present, the future,” Carol informed Lucy. “Together, we will change history.”

Elsewhere in the season ender: Lucy enlisted her grandfather to be a double agent within Rittenhouse in 1954. Back in the present, they tracked down his apartment full of intel, allowing them to arrest key members. Then Lucy arranged a secret meeting with Flynn to hand over the names of his family’s killers, and he, in return, gave her back her journal, which he claimed she gave him. (More on the when and how of that below.) But the peace was short-lived as Agent Christopher swooped in to arrest Flynn.

And last, but definitely not least interesting: Jiya had a strange physical reaction after taking a ride with the trio in the time ship, which was built for just three.

Below, creators Eric Kripke and Shawn Ryan talk about Lucy’s shocking discovery, Jiya’s time-bending state and Season 2’s potential conflict.

TVLINE | Has Lucy’s mother always been Rittenhouse, or is she just a member in this timeline where she’s healthy?
SHAWN RYAN | She’s always been Rittenhouse. This is something that Eric [Kripke] and I had talked about even as we were making the pilot, before we even had writers on staff, that we felt that Lucy’s mother was Rittenhouse. We just debated when and how to reveal that. She’s someone who in both timelines… has always been a secret and an important member of Rittenhouse.

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Teach Me (Hansol x Reader)

AYYYY GUESS WHO’S BACK AGAIN??? Yours truly has been busting her booty recently and banging out these requests like the boss she is ;) A cutie requested some Hansol fluff where you’re partners in dance practice and I just love Hansol okau he is pure and good and needs more love. Enjoy!

p.s. this gif is not relevant to the story he just looks so cute i had to use it 

Originally posted by kunxxxsol

The incessant beeping of your alarm finally roused you from your deep slumber, helped along by an arm that flopped over your stomach and caused you to cough. You fumbled for your phone but remembered that you hadn’t been the one to set the alarm for the day, so you turned over with an annoyed grumble.

“Babe…,” you mumbled, hand weakly patting the chest of your boyfriend as sleep threatened to close your eyes again.

With no response except for a grunt, you tried again, “Babe,” you croaked with your dry throat, moving over until your head thudded against his. Your boyfriend just mumbled something unintelligible, his deep voice cracking as he attempted to wiggle away from you.

Annoyed, you slung an arm and a leg over this time, pulling yourself on top of him as you growled, “Hansol!”

His eyes finally flickered open, deep brown eyes looking up at you with recognition as he realized the alarm was coming from his phone. He clumsily fumbled for his phone, uncoordinated by sleep as he silenced the horrible noise and threw it somewhere on the bed.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his morning voice making you smile as he wrapped his arms around your body.

“Morning,” you replied, burying your face in his chest, your voice muddled against his pajama shirt, “We gotta go to practice, babe.”

“Don’t wanna,” he said gently, already making up his mind to just sleep the rest of the day away with you.

“Hansol, no,” you laughed as he rolled over and trapped you underneath his larger frame. You wiggled underneath him and gave up, drumming your fingers on his back in amusement, “We’ve already missed practice twice this week. We need to go.”

You felt him groan against you, his breath hot on your neck as you chuckled at his reluctance. Your boyfriend placed a singlekiss on your neck before he finally moved off of you and sat up, rubbing his face as he walked over to the bathroom, already stripping off his clothes. You followed after him when you heard the sound of the shower turn on, peeling off your pajamas as you slipped in to wash with him.

After the two of you had washed up and got dressed, you grabbed two granola bars, two apples, and two bottles of water, shoving them in your backpack. Hansol was already grabbing the car keys, swinging them carelessly as he threw his favorite hat on, one you’d got him for his birthday. You walked out the door and proceeded to the car, already feeling a bit perkier as the sounds of morning met your ears.

You drove to your and Hansol’s dance studio that you practiced at, a short drive from your town house to the chic and modern looking building. You rode there in a comfortable silence, browsing through your phone while Hansol played some music and massaged your thigh out of habit. Finding a parking space surprisingly close, you checked the time and walked quickly as you realized you were cutting it close.

Hansol grabbed your hand and hurried you along, dragging your through the hallways until you found the advanced hip hop practice room. You squeezed in through the door and was greeted by your fellow dancers who were still stretching out lazily on the polished wood floors. You bode them a cheerful morning while Hansol quietly unzipped your bag and found the granola bar, happily munching away as you sat down to join them.

While you were stretching with some of your girlfriends, Hansol was standing around with some of his buddies, half listening to them, half watching you stretch out. You knew how much he liked to see you stretching, so you gave him a little show as you stood up and spread your legs wide. You bent over to touch the floor, giving your boyfriend a good view of your butt as you peered at him cheekily from between you legs. You caught him staring and he blushed, but saw him smile shyly as he turned to throw away his wrapper.

Just then, the dance instructure walked in, a young firecracker of a man who never failed to let everyone know he was in the room, “Partner up, people! We’re moving right into it.”

You felt Hansol press up behind you, his arm wrapping around your stomach and pulling you back against him. You jumped and giggled, “Hey there.”

He kissed the top of your head and you felt him smile against you as he moved into the starting position of the partner dance. You’d been working on this song for a few weeks, and with the help of your incredibly talented boyfriend, you managed to stay at the top of the class with him. No one in there could match the chemistry that the two of you had, because everything you felt when dancing together was always so raw and real. You don’t know how many times you’d come a split second away from just grabbing Hansol’s face and kissing the living heck out of him. He just got so into the dance that you couldn’t help but cheese at how serious he looked, it was incredibly adorable. But you would never admit that to him, he’d be so offended that you’d think that him acting manly was cute, so you kept your secret to yourself.

The dance instructor picked up a remote and counted out as the song began, your body surging with newfound energy as the music blasted from the speakers. It was an edgy song, with lots of sexy moves, hip rolling, and grinding.

And you absolutely hated it.

You weren’t gonna lie to yourself, you weren’t the sexiest person and you certainly had to try your hardest in order to even look like it. You were a soft little bean who blushed fire engine red when you saw sex scenes in movies or when you caught your boyfriend jacking off by accident.

Hansol was different though, he was so effortless hot, the sex appeal just rolled off of him in waves. He emphasized all the right moves, always sharp and clean, his dark eyes seemed to dance too as he flicked his hips perfectly to the beat. You were jealous with how easily it came to him, he already had a natural gift for dance, but gestures and presence too? What wasn’t he good at?

That didn’t stop you from trying your best to match Hansol’s intensity as you slid your hands down his chest and dropped. Bouncing off your heels, you snapped right up, panting harshly as the song ended and you gazed at your boyfriend. You held his intense stare for a moment before breaking away with a grin and clapping as everyone cheered for a job well done. Hansol kissed your cheek and gave you a few corrections, telling you that was probably the best run through you’d done.

“You really are improving, kitten,” he pulled you close and murmured into your ear. You felt your face heat up with pride as you kissed his lips briefly. You pulled away but he lingered, his thumbs messaging circles on your hips as he let his lips brush over yours.

The dance instructor interrupted your moment as he shouted, “Alright nerds, we’ll be taking a break for a little bit. My back is not what it used to be and I’m in need of Ibuprofen.”

Everyone burst out in a fit of laughter, watching as the instructor limped out of the room grumbling, everyone else followed suit, leaving you and Hansol alone in the practice room.

You turn toward your boyfriend, pouting, “I don’t understand how you do it.” You crossed your arms as his eyes widened at you.

“What do you mean?,” he spluttered, tilting his head to the side and regarding your comment.

“How do you make looking sexy so easy? You’re practically sex on legs when you dance and I’m just a potato trying too hard,” you whined, poking him in the chest as you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. “I just don’t feel hot when I dance, and I want to know how you manage to do it.”

Hansol was trying to hold back his laughter, but it slipped through, “What are you talking about, ______?” He’d thought you were about to drop something big on him, like that you felt like you didn’t want to dance anymore or something like that. He was relieved to hear that it wasn’t anything horrible, “I think you’re gorgeous when you dance.” He walked up and looked at you through the mirror as he pulled you into a hug from behind, kissing the back of your neck, “I think your gorgeous and sexy even when you’re not dancing.”

“I’m serious, Hansol,” you pouted, turning around to face him. “I just feel like I look ridiculous compared to you. Please help me?,” you pleaded, wide eyes hopeful as your boyfriend caved under your gaze.

“I’ll try, but there’s nothing really to teach,” Hansol warned, stepping beside you and facing the mirror. “A lot of dancing lies in facial expression, using it to your advantage can completely change the feel of the movements.” Your boyfriend performed a simple sequence of moves, radiating charisma and seduction.

“Try that,” he said, backing up to give you the floor space as you took a deep breath. You mirrored his moves flawlessly, but something just felt off.

You turned to him, exasperated, “It just doesn’t feel the same.”

“Don’t give up so easily, ______,” he encouraged, urging you to give it a go again. “Try watching your face in the mirror, watch your expressions and see where each fits best.”

You nodded and started the sequence again, so intent on watching your face you didn’t notice that your shoe was untied until you tripped over it. You cried out as you landed hard on one of your knees, the hard wood floor unforgiving. You gingerly poked your knee, pressing on it gently as you winced.

Hansol was beside you in an instant, concern all over his face, “_______, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You tried to stand up, but flopped back down as pain shot through your knee, “I totally just jacked up my knee.”

“Here,” Hansol said, carefully scooping you up into his arms. “Let’s go get some ice for it, okay?”

Your poor boyfriend looked absolutely distraught as he set you down on a counter in the break room of the dance studio. It had a small corner full of emergency medical supplies and ice packs, stocked for any problem a dancer might encounter. You were as cool as a cucumber, but Hansol looked a compete mess as he confusedly searched through a fridge to find a cold pack.

You called his name, “Hansol.” He turned toward you with big eyes, worry written all over his face. You smiled and nodded toward the top of the fridge, “Ice packs are in the freezer, babe.”

“Oh, y-yeah,” Hansol mumbled, opening the other door and finding an appropriately sized blue ice pack. He wrapped it up in a small towel with shaking hands before he pressed it to your already swollen and bruised knee.

His trembling hands caused little jitters of pain to hit your knee, so you took the ice pack from him and held it yourself. He murmured an apology and scooted away from you, like he was scared to touch you. You smiled at him, pointing to a cabinet full of bottles, “Can you get me some Ibuprofen, baby?”

He nodded eagerly and retrieved the pain reliever, fetching a bottle of water from the fridge as he opened it for you and held out he pills, “Here.”

“Thanks,” you said, swallowing down the medicine and taking a long drought of water. You could already tell by the expression on your boyfriend’s face that he thought it was his fault, so you softly caught his attention, “Hansol.”

He looked up from where he was staring at the floor, looking up at you with his dark eyes through his blonde bangs. You shifted on the counter and held open your arm, beckoning him to hug you. Your thighs parted on their own as he stood between where your legs dangled off the counter, pulling you tenderly into his arms. You murmured into his sweatshirt, inhaling his familiar homey scent, “I know what you’re thinking, babe…”

“It’s my fault,” he said, pulling out of your arms and looking at you, upset with what he’d done. “I told you to watch yourself and I didn’t even notice your shoelace was untied-”

You rolled your eyes with a groan, silencing him with a kiss while his arms just flopped uselessly to his side. You pulled away and looked right at him, “It’s no ones fault, okay? Things like this happen all the time, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. I’ll be fine, I already feel better anyway.”

“You sure?,” he mumbled, tracing his fingers along your thighs as you chuckled.

“Of course, baby,” you smiled, taking the ice pack off your ugly bruised knee so you could embrace him with both arms.

Hansol smiled and eagerly entered your hold, only retracting sheepishly when you flinched as he accidentally brushed your knee. The blonde boy tried again, moving carefully to press you against the cabinet behind you as he kissed your lips. You hummed in approval, gasping when he pulled away to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck, his hands already wandering to places they probably shouldn’t.

“Hansol,” you murmured, trying to get his attention as he ignored you and continued his attack on your neck. You almost gave into his kisses and touch, but the moment his hands slid under your shirt you snapped back to reality, “Hansol!”

He pulled away with a smirk, hands back to a more appropriate position on your hips as he feigned innocence, “What?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, grinning as he picked you up again, “And where do you think you’re taking me?”

“Back home so that I can kiss and love you without being interrupted,” he said matter-of-factly, smiling down at you.

“Well you better not kiss anywhere below the knee, because I will kick you in the face with my good leg,” you warned, biting your lip in amusement. Hansol chuckled picturing you karate kicking him across the room in your bra and panties.

“Trust me, there’s only one place below your waist that I want to kiss,” your boyfriend smirked again, laughing when he saw your face turn red and your jaw drop.

He never failed to surprise you.

That Boy is Mine - Request

Requested by anon: sherlock x transguy reader where their like visiting john and Sherlock accidentally hurts their feelings by revealing their trans in front of a bunch of people /could I request a sherlock x trans male reader where Sherlock I a bit rude at first but the realises he loves them /Um would you be able to write a sherlock x transguy reader type thing if that’s okay

Pairing: Sherlock x trans!male reader.

Word count: 1.545

Warnings: After debating for hours what Sherlock’s sexual orientation would be for this, I realised that Sherlock doesn’t give a shit. If he doesn’t care about the Earth spinning around the sun, he will definitely care less about finding a label that suits him. SO yeah, there’s that.

A/N & Disclaimer: I DO NOT know ANYTHING about this. I’ve only met one transsexual person and we talked three times, not a single one about her transition. I don’t know if I expressed myself correctly, or if I used the proper terms, etc. I DO NOT MEAN TO OFFEND ANYONE.
Sherlock is meant to be rude, and so he makes some nasty comments; if these things trigger you DO NOT READ. This in fanfiction, nothing else.

**Feedback is highly appreciated.


Originally posted by whenisayrunrun

There he was: the great Sherlock Holmes in flesh and bones. With his perfect cheekbones and the collar of his trench coat lifted, giving him his characteristically mysterious look. Avoiding the paparazzi with grace and sassy comments, zipping his way inside the cab John had stopped.

(Y/N) was just a reporter then, trying to get a decent note to overshadow everyone else’s and, at last, gets his desired job as head reporter in one of the most important newspapers in Europe.

How on Earth did Sherlock set his eyes on him? That was a mystery Sherlock wasn’t willing to solve. However, the simple view of his delicate figure stuck in the crowd of paparazzi, fans and reporters had some kind of effect on Sherlock.

“Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes, is it true that you are gay?” (Y/N) replied. Sherlock, who was mesmerized by him, shook his head and replied in the rudest tone possible.

“No, now move over.” Sherlock pushed the boy and everyone else away. He hated to be surrounded by people; he always felt like they were too close or too touchy, even if he had the perfect space to walk to the cab without pushing anyone.

In spite of his poor manners, (Y/N) was willing to get his desired paper and so he took a cab and followed Sherlock.

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Imagine being Rafael’s tailor

(A/N: I hope you Anon and everyone else enjoys this! Sorry it’s short!) 

Imagine being Rafael’s tailor

“Mr. Barba?” You questioned confused, coming down the stairs of your store and seeing him in what was supposed to be your empty waiting room.

“How many times have I told you to call me Rafael?” He smirked, getting up to greet you as you walked over to him.

“Too many times,” You chuckled as you reciprocated the light hug he initiated, “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering…” He began.

“Today’s appointment is the third one you’ve missed,” You interrupted you remind.

“I was in court.” He offered sympathetically.

“You said that last time,” You reminded, “You should really stop booking appointments right after court appearances,”

“They keep running over,” He insisted.

“Shouldn’t you know the extent of your legal talents by now and now how long it’s going to take?” You quipped.

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New Fic Outtake?  Addition, maybe

Not quite sure what you’d call this, but when I finally post Geode to to AO3, it will have this scene added in there because the story seemed to demand it.  How could I do a story about Steve and Darcy visiting museums and not bring up the fact that there’s a museum exhibit dedicated solely to Captain America?


While Darcy’s been to the Air and Space museum before (thank you, 8th grade class trip to Washington D.C. where one of her friends smuggled a naughty magazine onto the bus with them and they ended up breaking one of the beds in their hotel room because they were jumping from mattress to mattress and lied about it to the chaperones to stay out of trouble), she hasn’t experienced the Captain America exhibit yet.  But the curators had called up Steve to consult on a new addition to the exhibit - which apparently was just asking him to verify if the items they’d found were actually his or just someone trying to blow smoke up their asses - and they’d decided to make a little vacation out of it.  Some time that’s just for the two them, away from the familiar territory of New York and everyone who knows everything.

But the job comes first, of course, which leaves Darcy to wander idly through the fairly empty halls of the exhibit.  It’s never entirely empty, not given Steve’s popularity and the fact that the entire museum is a tourist’s highlight, but on this Wednesday morning, Darcy feels like she can slip between the other tourists without being noticed, blending into the background as just yet another person who’s there to partake in the spectacle.

Steve is notoriously quiet about his private life - much to the dismay of the paparazzi who went in expecting another Tony Stark and got someone entirely different.  Even so, word has gotten out to the gossip columns that he’d been seeing someone for quite a while now, though all they’ve been able to discover is that she’s female and brunette thanks to those few artsy photos of her shadowy profile Steve had put up on his Instagram page.  

It’s funny though, no one ever seems to pay attention to them in the New York City museums.  But that could be because it’s New York, Darcy thinks.  New Yorkers don’t get excited about anything (or at least they don’t let people see them get excited), and as soon as Steve slaps a baseball cap and a jacket on he’s just one more meathead in the crowd that they don’t notice.

But in Washington D.C. Darcy feels exposed.  Like there are eyes watching her from every direction, assessing her, determining her value and passing silent judgement that she’s not worthy of being Steve’s girlfriend.  And rationally, she knows that’s bullshit.  She’s entirely fucking worthy, and doesn’t even need to lift a hammer to prove it.  But the whispers through cupped hands behind her back have always gotten to her, long before she’d ever even known Steve.  Sometimes it’s hard to break through those years of old habits.  

“Whatever,” she mutters under her breath, wrapping her cardigan even more tightly.  “You are damn worthy.”

It’s hard to shake the feeling of creeping eyes on her, however, even if it’s probably only her head seeing things that aren’t there.  So Darcy hunts for a shadowy corner in order to take a few minutes to regain her equilibrium, and finds herself wandering into the room where the Peggy Carter interview is running on a continuous loop.  And boy, doesn’t that just make all the inadequacies come rushing back…  Still, Darcy plonks herself down on one of the benches; it’s dark and quiet in there, the perfect little escape from the outside world.

Peggy Carter is an entirely formidable woman, even when she looks like she’s on the verge of tears.  But then, it’s probably a natural response to have when one reminisces about the lost love of your life.  When did you know, Darcy thinks, that this person - this magnificent and imperfect wonder - was going to be the one to get under your skin like that?  That this person would be nothing less than the other half of your soul?  

Darcy has never been good with emotions.  She realized this long ago, and has accepted it as one of her deep flaws.  That it’s far easier to be brash and loud, to put the safe parts of her personality out there for everyone to see because the soul, that inner part of her that bruises and sometimes doesn’t want to cope with the world, is soft and squishy and gets hurt all too easily.  Why get hurt when you can get angry instead, has been the motto that’s gotten her over and through many rough times in her life.  But this approach to the world has sometimes made her a little out of touch with her own feelings, she admits (if only to herself).

How do you know when you’ve found that person, the one who you don’t mind cracking open your skin in front of so that they can see the whole package of your emotions and not just the safe outer shell?

(Darcy studiously avoids thinking about the fact that Steve could be that person for her, because emotions are tough and the deeper she looks the more in over her head she might find herself.  Romance is such a strange thing, in her experience.  But that doesn’t mean that it’s not good for her, that having that imperfect and wonderful compliment to her soul would make her more like the true self that she wants to be instead of that facade that the world sees.)

Ugh, she gets awfully maudlin once the caffeine wears off.  Darcy grimaces, and is incredibly grateful that the darkness of the film room keeps her hidden from the group of elderly ladies a couple of rows down from her commenting about how much they like Peggy’s suit outfit.  It’s better to focus on Peggy than on herself, anyway.  On the screen, Peggy makes a comment about how, even after his (supposed) death, Steve was always changing her life.  Ain’t that just the truth, Darcy thinks in full agreement.  

After a while Darcy needs to leave the movie room, because otherwise she might start crying at the intensity of Peggy’s emotions.  They’re not obvious, because Peggy is a consummate professional, but Darcy knows the type (she’s one herself, after all) - never let them see you sweat or see you cry.  So she wanders back out into the main exhibit, washing up in front of a display that outlines some of Peggy’s other accomplishments that weren’t related to her time with Captain America.  It’s only a matter of seconds, however, before she sees a shadow loom up next to her, followed quickly by soft footfalls that come to a stop next to hers.

When she looks up at Steve, it’s all too easy to see the strain on his face, even half hidden by the baseball cap he’s got shoved on his head.  His eyes are tight, mouth pulled into a slight frown.  His shoulders are hunched over, hands shoved into his pockets, and, at least for this moment in time, he looks a hell of a lot less intimidating than she’s ever seen him.  There’s no need to ask him how he feels when it’s written all over him, Darcy thinks.  So instead, she just waves a hand at the display in front of her and says, “She’s a hell of a woman.”

“That she is,” Steve replies, the frown dropping away from his lips for a moment and replaced by something far more soft and pensive.

“Come on.”  Darcy weaves her arm through his, tugging his body close to hers.  “Let’s get out of here and see some sunlight.”

It’s one of those days that moves slow like molasses, thick and lazy, traveling along without any actual aim and just spreading about instead.  It’s a good day, sunny and warm even though it’s late in November, and they stroll along the streets, wandering into bookshops and cafes and places that Darcy hopes won’t remind Steve of the past.  Anything to take that frowny look of his face, she thinks.  Eventually they head back to the hotel with the intention of getting ready for dinner…but the best of intentions are forgotten when Darcy all but pushes Steve back on the bed, and starts planting kisses down his torso, peeling back his sweater as he goes.  After that, room service is the only dinner option that either one of them has the energy for.

“I know what you’re doing,” Steve says afterwards as he stumbles out of bed towards where the room service menu is.

“What am I doing?”  Darcy sits up, dragging the sheets around her shoulders and attempting to bring some semblance of order to her sex-tossed hair.  It’s a futile effort, but she has to try anyway.

Steve arches an eyebrow at her and crawls back onto the bed, menu in hand.  “You know, you’re not as subtle as you think.”  He presses a swift, firm kiss to her mouth.  “It was a good day.  Thank you.”

Darcy smiles back at him, followed swiftly by the sound of her stomach grumbling.  “You’re very welcome.  Now feed me.”

“As you wish.”

The picture that gets posted to Steve’s Instagram later is a simple one, overlaid with a black and white filter that just emphasizes the shadows coming from the small lamp off in the distance of the shot.  The main feature of the photo, however, is the two hands tangled together, fingers intertwined, relaxed and resting on a pillow.  And while nothing else is visible aside from the extension of their forearms, the implication that there are two people on the other side of those hands, snuggled up and resting together, is a given.  The caption simply reads ‘a good ending to a good day.’