and for a while everything is fine but then

anonymous asked:

Wrightworth for either 8 or 9. You can pick :D

9. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

—–

With everything that had happened in Khura’in, Phoenix was more than happy to finally be back home.  Sleeping in his bed, being safe, staying up late with Trucy watching terrible movies…returning to normalcy was something that was desperately needed, and it allowed him (and Trucy) to distract themselves from Apollo’s absence.  While Phoenix knew that Apollo had to go, and supported his decision, Trucy was taking his departure much harder.  While his daughter tried to keep a smile on her face at all times, he could tell there was a deep sadness within her that wouldn’t go away for some time. 

Yes, everything was back to normal. 

Well…except for Edgeworth. 

Everything had seemed fine; when they were in Khura’in, Edgeworth appeared to be his regular…Edgeworth-y self.  That was to say, reserved and sometimes snarky, but still comfortable enough with Phoenix to wander around the country and help him with the case.  Hell, they even shared a mat when they slept on the temple’s floor (though Edgeworth complained a decent amount about it, truthfully)!  

But it seemed that the moment they landed in the states, Edgeworth had gone cold - every time Phoenix tried to talk with him, Edgeworth’s replies were short and dismissive.  At first Phoenix chalked this grumpiness as jet-lag; Edgeworth hadn’t slept well in Khura’in and now was delaying with the time change…it was no wonder that maybe he would be a bit off-putting…more so than usual, anyway. 

Keep reading

Blind

Evan just stood there. Everything was so clear. Zoe’s flannel was dark pink, and her room’s wallpaper was a creamy shade of yellow. Evan could see the bright purple frame of Alana’s glasses, the soft blue of the flowers sitting on Zoe’s desk. Everything was beautiful, everything was breath taking, and—

“Evan?” Zoe and Alana were looking at him. “You ready to go?”

And Connor couldn’t see it.

“Yeah,” he stammered, following them out of the room.

He needed to tell Connor. He needed to shout it. He needed to say something.

“Are you okay?” Connor questioned, when they made it to Zoe’s car. Connor and Evan had been ushered to the backseats, while Zoe and Alana bickered over what music they were going to play for the drive.

“Oh, um, yeah,” Evan stuttered. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Connor leaned back in his seat.

He was beautiful. Everything from the brown hair, to the soft skin, to the not as soft jawline. He looked like a model. He looked like every storybook prince Evan had ever imagined. Evan wanted to blurt all of this, but his voice wouldn’t work. How do you tell someone you’re their soulmate? Well, most people didn’t have to. Most people both knew at the same time.

What if Connor didn’t believe him? What if he thought Evan was playing some sort of sick joke on him? What if he got mad? Then Zoe would kick him out, and then he’d never see Connor again. He couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t live the rest of his life in color but not with the person who’d given it to him. That might actually kill him.

“Seriously, I can hear you hyperventilating from here,” Connor’s voice cut through his thoughts.

Read the rest here

sebas-tial  asked:

Hey is everything okay?? I haven't seen you around in a while?? Or idk if I've been distracted and haven't seen your posts but I hope you're doing okay ❤

yeah im fine ^^ i guess ive been posting less on this blog/more on other blogs & thats maybe why u havent seen me!! still here and still waiting for matd4 lol 💞 but aaah you’re so sweet, hope youre doing great, love 💘

hey guys! i’ve noticed lately that a lot of gifsets/edits of moana, especially pastel ones, have been whitewashing her skin, and i know that this isn’t just a problem in moana gifs, so i thought it might be a good idea to make a comprehensive guide on how to avoid whitewashing poc/color poc in general. this guide will be split into three parts: vibrant gifs, pastel gifs, and dark gifs (any of the tips i give for gifs can be applied to edits as well – it’s even easier to avoid whitewashing poc in edits, because you can color it normally and then erase the lightening layers over the person’s skin).

so, without any further ado, here we go!

Keep reading

  • WHAT SHE SAYS: I'M FINE
  • WHAT SHE MEANS: star confessed her feelings to marco, after living with the fact he had a crush on someone else and purposefully playing matchmaker because she just wanted her best friend to be happy and put her feelings aside. while she goes back to Mewni, knowing she probably may be injured, or even die because Toffee is hunting down her and her mom. while Marco mourns for at least a week and a half that his best friend and love of his life left him, while listening to music that repeatedly says, "Don't leave me my love, etc." decides to respect her wishes until he realizes star may be in danger, brings her favorite cereal for her, starts an alliance with a dude who humiliated him and star, sneaks into Ludo's castle, beats up some baddies to free her. Just to get to hold star in his arms after not seeing her for two weeks, the longest theyve ever spent apart since she moved in, gets called cute, just to have star sacrifice herself aGAIN FOR THE GOOD OF HER FRIENDS AND FAMILY. SWIMS IN TOFFEE GOO, DIES, GETS SENT TO PURGATORY WITH GLOSSARYK. TOFFEE, TELLS MARCO AND MOON AND BUFF FROG ,THAT HE WAS UNABLE TO SAVE HER AND THAT SHE IS GONE FOREVER. MARCO PUNCHES A WHOLE THRU TOFFEES LITERAL SKIN, SKELETON, EVERYTHING WHERE HIS HEART IS SUPPOSED TO BE. While simultaneously supporting Star's grieving mother, who Toffee has now murdered both her mother and daughter, by helping her collect the remains of star's wand after EVEN THOUGH THEY HAD NO HOPE TO HOLD ON TO. I'M FINE.

art from the denial stream - thank you to @arodote, @owlsshadows, @deathmetalsheep, @spaderace, and anyone else who stopped by!! We get to see our son grow up big and strong and happy and healthy and everything is fine

at least I got to try out this transparent effect thing - its pretty mundane in my hand but at least I got to do it

until next stream ;)

Snacks and Roses || Peter Parker Imagine

Paring: Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 1607

Request: nah homie

A/N: i didn’t proof read it, I’m sorry. And sorry if you’re allergic to roses

Originally posted by fuckyeahtonystark

Y/N sat with Liz in the lunchroom , hearing their friends talking about Spider-Man once again. “He brings hope to the city. It’s like, we know that someone is looking out for us.” One of them said. Y/N thought about all the things the man has done for the city. I wonder if his life is good, if he’s happy in his real life, Y/N thought.

The topic was quickly changed when an announcement for Homecoming was made over the blaring intercom. “Students, don’t forget to buy your tickets for Homecoming next Friday.” The voice boomed, making all of the students start talking about the event.

Liz turned to Y/N, “So,” she said taking a bite from her food, “who are you going to the dance with?” All of their friends tuned in to what the two girls were saying.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. She wanted to go with Peter Parker, the smartest kid at Midtown High, if she went in the first place. Homecoming is going to be crowded and loud, with a bunch of annoying kids. Y/N didn’t want that. “I don’t think I’m going, actually. I’m probably gonna spend my night watching TV or something.” Y/N said, shaking her head like it was nothing.

“But Y/N,” one of her friends said enthusiastically, “You have to go! Peter is probably going, you should too!” She nodded her head behind Y/N. Y/N looked behind her to see Peter and Ned eating their lunch a few tables away. But he’s going to be dancing and hanging out with a girl that isn’t me, she thought.

Y/N smiled, “As much as I would love to go with him, it’s not gonna happen. He’s probably taking a super pretty girl with him and he’ll have a blast. Just,” she trailed off, starting to get quieter,“just not with me.” Y/N sighed, slumping her shoulders. Liz looked over at her giving her a sympathetic smile. “If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. It would be nice if you went though.”

Y/N returned the smile, “Thanks for understanding Liz.” Liz nodded her head, “Anytime.” She gave her attention back to her friends to hear the rest of their thoughts.

Peter Parker sat a few tables away, having the same conversation that Y/N was having. “Are you going to ask her to Homecoming?” Ned asked Peter looked at his friend as if he was crazy. “W-What? No. Never. I can barely form a sentence around her, let alone ask her out.” Peter said as he gazed down at his lap. He looked back up to her, admiring her from behind. Y/N turned around and Peter quickly looked away and muttered “Oh God.”

Ned looked confused at the teenager. Peter’s face was beet red, “I think she saw me. Oh God,oh God, she saw me staring at her man.”

Ned looked over at the girl who was now facing her friends talking. “I don’t think she did. Just breathe, she probably didn’t see. I mean you turned your head so fast that you might have whiplash.” He chuckled. Peter sighed, “Maybe you’re right.”

“Right about what?” Michelle asked as she reached the table with the two boys.

“Well, I asked Peter if he was asking Y/N to the dance and he started staring at her. She turned around and might’ve caught him.” Ned explained to the Michelle as she sat down. Peter hit Ned’s shoulder with the back of his hand, “Dude. Seriously?”

“What?” Ned asked, completely clueless at Peter’s new beacon of embarrassment. Before their bickering cold continue, Michelle started talking. “Actually, while I was walking over here, I heard that she wasn’t going. And I might’ve heard,” she stated trying to be dramatic, “that she was super bummed out that you were probably going with a different girl that isn’t her.”

Peter sat shocked. “You’re lying.” He said. There is no way that the girl he has had a crush on for years, is into him. Him of all people.

“I wouldn’t lie about true love, Parker.” Michelle replied, kind of mockingly.

“How are you going to ask her?” Ned asked. Peter was messing with the cuffs of her sleeves. “I-I don’t think I will.”

Ned looked shocked. “You have to. You finally have a chance to be with her.” Peter looked around, “I’m too scared. Besides, she said she didn’t want to go and I respect that.”

“Your loss,” Michelle said opening one of her books.

It was the Friday night of Homecoming and Y/N sat on her couch surrounded by her fluffy blankets, with a show paused on the TV screen and a water bottle in hand. She was on her phone talking to Liz, giving some advice for her outfit. “Should I wear the silver earrings I got for my birthday?” Liz asked. “Yeah, they match your dress very well.” Y/N replied, taking a sip of her drink.

“Y/N are you sure you don’t want to go? I might have an extra dress.” Liz asked, she didn’t want her friend to be alone while everyone else was having a blast.

“Yeah I’m sure. I’m fine with my TV shows and blankets. Go have fun!” Y/N stated, assuring the girl that everything would be fine. “You sure?” Liz asked, wanting to make sure her friend was okay.

“100%.” Y/N replied with a smile on her fave that she knew Liz couldn’t see. “Alright, I have to go. My date is here. If you need anything call me.” Liz said, while Y/N heard shuffling in the background. “See you later Ms. Allen.” Y/N said chuckling to herself. “You too.”

Y/N sat on the cuddled into her blankets as she clicked play on her TV remote. As soon as the show started, there was knock on the front door. Y/N was confused, was it Liz? She got up to answer the door.

Y/N opened the door, do just her body was seen. She was greeted with the smiling yet nervous face of Peter Parker, holding a bouquet of red roses with a backpack on his back and a couple grocery bags filled with chips, candy and other snacks. Y/N stood in front of him, lips parted slightly.

“P-Peter. What are you doing here?” She asked with wide eyes. Peter glanced down at his old shoes. “I heard that you were, uh,” he looked back up at her, “I heard you were spending the night in on-on Homecoming so, I wanted to join you. If that’s okay.” He stammered biting his bottom lip.

Y/N smiled widely, opening the door all the way. “Come on in.” If it was anyone else at the door, she would’ve probably made up an excuse. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was her crush. Peter smiled back. He walked through the door, waiting for her to indicate where he could go.

Y/N shut the door and moved to face him. Peter looked at the flowers in his hand, “These are f-for you.” He handed you the flowers.

The girl smiled, “Thanks Pete.” She called me Pete, was all he could think about as Y/N went to put the flowers in a vase. She quickly came back after putting the vase in a good spot.

“You can sit down Peter.” Y/N said as he followed her to the couch.

“Seems like you were having a real party, huh?” Peter said sarcastically with a small smile on his lips, seeing the TV and her blankets. “What gave it away?” Y/N replied back with the same amount of sarcasm.

“I brought food.” Peter emptied out the two grocery bags with the snacks onto the couch between the two of them. Y/N smiled. Tonight was going to be fun.

Peter turned and looked at the clock to see it was one in the morning. All night was spent with him and Y/N getting to know each other,cracking jokes, and watching bad late night TV shows. It was like they had known each other for their entire lives. She fell asleep a while ago, her head resting on Peter’s chest, with a blanket wrapped securely around the pair. He sat there, playing with her hair, glad that he skipped Homecoming. Peter sighed contently, looking back up at the TV which now had the news on. A robbery at fifth and third. “Shit,” he muttered, moving Y/N off of his chest and onto the couch.

He dashed out her front door with only his backpack in hand, with his Spider-Man suit inside.

Y/N woke up 10 the next morning still on the couch, with all the snacks from last night littering the floor. It was fun hanging out with Peter. She was kind of happy that she didn’t spend Homecoming alone. She searched for her phone to check the time. Once she found the device she saw a text from Peter.

Hey, sorry I had to leave. My Aunt called me and said that I had to go back home. Maybe we can do this again sometime at my place?

Y/N smiled at the text. Maybe I can get the guy of my dreams, she thought as she typed a reply.

Yeah, that’d be awesome.

The Democrats are honestly, objectively, the most idiotic party in this country if they exist as a party actually trying to gain seats and not as some complex money laundering or fraud scheme pulling in billions from like ten very wealthy Libs in NY & LA.

I mean, everything from their rush to the right by compromising on every single policy goal before even getting into office and announcing the policy to appease Republicans who will never actually vote for them over their own party in anything but totally inconsequential numbers, to actively trying to blunt the impact of actual Leftist movements by fiercely adopting rabid right-wing talking points on single payer healthcare feasibility to their suicidal insistence that nothing is actually wrong at all everything is fine.

I mean, this country has a lot of things that are fundamentally broken. The Right-wing parties have made tremendous gains because they’re vocalizing that fact, they’re saying that we’re in the midst of a generation-killing opioid epidemic, that while the economy has recovered for a handful of firms on Wall Street the average family is just as economically insecure as in 2008, our savings just as depleted, earnings even lower and jobs even less secure even if there are more of them and that something needs to give or something needs to change. They’ve taken to blaming foreigners & minorities for all societies ills, to catastrophic results.

The Left, largely, blames capitalism for the issues we’re facing, that attacking our problems via universal healthcare & universal basic income or at the very least a living minimum wage & stronger workers unions will fix a lot of the issues at hand.

 The Centrists & the soft-Right, the people that make up the Dems, though, they insist that nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. They run and lose on campaigns of ‘America Is Already Great’, empty rhetoric that hedges bets against itself even as they’re announcing it, promises that come with the caveat ‘this is the best we can offer, and we’re willing to settle for much worse’. They see a healthcare crisis and they’ll offer you a partial tax credit reimbursement on discounted Uber rides to the emergency room and say that preserving a system you can’t even afford a plan in is a tremendous victory for all of us, and that pushing for single payer universal healthcare is a ridiculous pipe dream and you’re a piece of shit purity-testing loon if you point out how much money they get from insurance companies every year to say that.

The Republicans are wrong. Deeply, fundamentally, they are wrong, and they are bad for this country but the Democrats are deeply, fundamentally stupid and they’ll let the Republicans get away with anything if the alternative is even the tiniest bit of socialism.

Okay so it’s time for fluffy headcanon about MC and Damien’s happily ever after:
- MC’s handwriting gradually starts to improve because he and Damien write letters to each other constantly. Like every day. He’s not at Damien’s level of penmanship, but he’s getting better. He still seals his letters with the kitten wax seal though.
- They keep up the letter writing even after they move in together. ‘My beloved, could I trouble you to purchase a dozen of the finest eggs when you pay a visit to the grocer after work? I had hoped to make french toast when Amanda graces us with her presence this weekend.’
- They both write letters to Amanda while she’s at college too. She usually sends back a torn piece of notebook paper with ‘ok cool, love ya pops’ written in colorful gel pen and sealed with a sticker (she saves the actual catching up for phone calls and visits, but she thinks the letters are hilarious)
- She usually refers to Damien as her dad’s ‘suitor,’ until they get married and then she starts calling him stuff like ‘esteemed father.’ She also calls him Gomez Addams or Lestat at times.
- Lucien is slow to admit it, but he really warms up to his new family too, especially since his dad is so happy. He and Amanda become good friends and text often, he finds her easy to talk to and she grows fond of her new gloomy bro who’s actually sweeter than he seems.
- After Lucien goes to college and moves out, MC and Damien decide to get a dog. They want a hypoallergenic one though, because of course they want Lucien to be comfortable when he visits. They end up with a tiny fluffy Bichon who they name Queen Victoria. Of course.
- MC and Damien attend pretty much every Victorian themed museum exhibit or event or movie or whatever they can get their hands on. MC has honestly gotten interested in the stuff and lets Damien design him a whole historically accurate outfit too. He doesn’t wear it every day, but it’s kind of fun to put that stuff on for dates and special occasions.
- They avoid scary movies, but every so often there’s a gothic horror movie that’s just SO accurate with the Victorian costumes and has such FANTASTIC attention to detail and…yeah, they’ve got to go see it. Damien holds MC’s hand the whole time and hides his face on his shoulder during the really scary parts (MC lets him know when the scary bit is over and it’s safe to look again.)
- MC is usually pretty adverse to the outdoors, but he really likes working with Damien in the garden. It’s relaxing, and he likes to listen to Damien talk about the flowers and their meanings while they work.
- Damien really helps MC deal with the grief about his late spouse that he just wasn’t able to let go of yet. Damien’s attitude toward death and grieving is really just the thing he needed, and Damien assures him that it’s fine to take all the time he needs. It doesn’t matter that his spouse passed a while ago, that grief is still perfectly valid. Turns out it’s a lot easier to finally work through everything when he’s not trying to put on a brave face all the time for Amanda.
- When they finally get married it’s the most extravagant affair. A very historically accurate recreation of Victorian weddings down to the last detail (except for, of course, no one batting an eye at the two grooms.) MC cries because he’s a big softy. Damien cries too because he never thought he’d find such happiness. Those fancy monogrammed handkerchiefs get a lot of mileage.
- Just Damien and MC being so happy and healthy and in love!!

Why do film adaptations always add lines and unnecessary details to designs that work perfectly fine? Just because you have the money for elaborate costumes, make up and effects doesn’t mean you have to make everything elaborate.

A few examples

Comic Black Panther: 

Smooth and shiny black outfit, a few lines around his gloves and that’s it, looks like a panther.

Movie Black Panther: 

Lines and divots and unnecessary details all over. While some outlining is required to make the different parts of the costume more discerning in action scenes, they overdid it. It looks more like a robot than a panther.

Cartoon Aang:

A simple arrow tattoo on his forehead.

Movie Aang:

This level of detail in completely unnecessary. It in fact makes the tattoo less clear as an arrow.

TV Zordon:

Disembodied head in a tube. Doesn’t get much simpler.

Movie Zordon:

Why?!

I’m not saying all of these are bad designs or that it’s bad if you like them. But they’re rather unnecessary and I find them distracting and detrimental to expressing anything meaningful about the character to the audience, which is what a design is supposed to do.

It looks more like the production wanted to show off how much money they have than actually put any thought to what the audience is going to see.

You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt: Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Masterlist linked in bio


Harry watches the wall clock as he waits patiently on his couch, counting the minutes until Y/n finally wakes up.

He’s barely slept all night, feeling a mix of anxiousness and misery as he thought of all the outcomes that could happen today. He also found himself looking at Y/n all night, watching her in her calmest state of mind and feeling a sense of tranquility as he sees her in her most beautiful form.

He could never get tired of it—admiring her in her sleep. But as the morning passed and the late afternoon started approaching, Harry didn’t know what the hell was going on.

She was still asleep, crashed on top of him as snores raided her mouth and the only movement being the slight rise and fall of her chest against his. He started to worry, solely for the fact that she slept at a completely reasonable time last night and was known to be an early riser. And since he barely got a blink of sleep, he knows she didn’t wake up for a second during the night.

At first, when it hit 12 hours since she’d fallen asleep, he tried to brush hair out of her face in an attempt to wake her from her slumber. Nothing came to his avail, however, when all he got was a slight shake of her head and a small smacking of her lips.

When the afternoon started to approach, he started to move his fingertips along her back and neck. But again, nothing; just a slight groan and a movement of her hips to get away from the sensation.

He gave up after that, helpless in disturbing her sleep and trying to get some sort of reassurance in the midst of his worrying. He really needed something, because his nerves were getting the best of him and he needed to rid the anxiety building inside of him.

That’s when he decided to call Gabby.

“She fell asleep at around 10:00 last night and it’s nearly 2:00 now. She’s barely moved, she’s still right on top of me and doesn’t even flinch when I turn. I’m really worried.”

Harry lifts his hand to her hair, softly brushing the knots out with his fingers, waiting to see if there’s any sudden movement. But there’s nothing, just the movements of her soft breath and the occasional repositioning of her neck.

“She’s barely slept in months, Harry. She’s not fully comfortable here, no matter how much she tries to tell me she is. There are nights she doesn’t sleep at all. She’s completely incapable of being alone anymore, she’s always thinking and it doesn’t let her calm down in the slightest, you know? And mixed with everything that happened last night, she’s probably extremely exhausted. Just let her get her sleep, yeah? She really needs it, trust me. Besides, you being there is helping her in the most.”

He looks down at Y/n, where her cheek is pressed against his chest as her eyes are closed in a dream. She looks most beautiful this way. It’s the peaceful, angelic side of her that he always remember her being.

She looks safe, too—away from any potential hurting and pressed so close against him as if he were the protector of her heart. He almost laughs at the irony of it all, how she’s the exact opposite of peaceful and nowhere near protected from any harm—especially in his arms.

And there’s a part of him that wishes he could stay in this moment forever, holding her to him as he watches her in her must vulnerable state. She doesn’t push him away, or tell him to stop staring at her, or cry because he still can’t figure out what to say. She’s oblivious to his admiration, and the second she regains consciousness in her reality, he knows this moment can’t last much longer, no matter how badly he wants it to.

“Yeah, of course I’ll let her sleep. You think I can move from underneath her without waking her? Might make her some food, can feel her stomach growl.”

“Yes, please make her something. She gets really upset sometimes and forgets to eat. They’ll be days I have to remind her. She really needs you to provide for her right now, more than anything. She shouldn’t wake up, though.”

It doesn’t take much convincing to get Harry up from the couch. Although it was a bit of a struggle to maneuver himself from underneath Y/n’s body and out of her tight hold on him—especially between her occasional whimpers and groans from the sudden movements—he managed to do so without waking her up too much.

He decides to make her her favorite breakfast, as well. He knows it won’t distract her from the problems they have to face, but it’s something—it’s something as opposed to all the nothingness he’s been giving her.

It doesn’t take much longer than half an hour before Y/n finally wakes up from her slumber. She’s confused upon her awakening, groggy and the remaining amount of exhaustion still present in her body.

She’s comforted, though, when she acknowledges that she’s back home with the aroma of breakfast filling the air. It reminds her of old times—mornings of her anniversaries with Harry and mornings of their birthdays or purposeful events. It’s everything that she’s missed and it brings a soft smile to her face. Only for a second, though.

“Afternoon.” He smiles softly, eyes watching her every movement as she leans against the doorway of the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, he would have greeted her with a proper kiss and held her against him for a while; but as he observes her red eyes, her tear-stained cheeks, and her overall broken down structure, he knows not to overstep his boundaries.

Y/n frowns, watching what would normally be the most heartwarming sight of her life—Harry cooking in the kitchen of their home, a smile on his face while the sun peeks through the windows—but is now only seeing it as something that could have been.

She wonders if this is how he spent his mornings with Jessica.

He frowns slightly, too, when he sees her in the way she is now. There’s absolutely no life to her. He can tell that the Y/n that he knew is long gone—now replaced by a much more miserable soul. It almost brings tears to his eyes, seeing how much damage and destruction he’s caused onto her. He feels as if he’s taken away Y/n’s heart entirely, only leaving her to suffer through the loss.

“I, uh—" he mutters softly, realizing that he’s been staring at her for longer than he’s probably supposed to, “I made you some chocolate chip pancakes. I know it’s a little after lunch time but Gabby told me you haven’t been eating as much and well, I kind of figured I’d make you something I know you can’t resist.”

She wants to appreciate the gesture, she does. She wishes that she could look past the gloomy side of the situation, and instead focus on the fact they’re together again. Even if it’s the bare minimum—where Harry does all the speaking while she just listens with a stupid pout on her face—there’s a reflection of what their relationship was like before their time apart, and she feels as if it should be making her feel something other than sick to her stomach.

But she just can’t, no matter how hard she tries. She can’t quite understand how he’s doing so well. Not a part of him resembles her ruined self. He’s so put together, even after everything that’s happened. He’s still alive, which is almost the exact opposite of how she feels; and she can’t help but to wonder if he ever felt the way she did—broken and helpless. She wonders if he even cared.

And if there’s anything that can make her feel worse than she already does, it’s if Harry continues to pity her—to treat her like a charity case when he was the reason for all of this. He should be the one sulking from his mistakes, on his knees begging for mercy, but it’s her. She’s suffering the pain for the both of them and she doesn’t know how much longer she can bare it.

“Is this how it’s going to be?” She whispers, tears flowing from her eyes and she’s genuinely surprised that there’s still some left to cry.

Harry’s heart stops as he watches her break again. He doesn’t want to witness her in that form again, he doesn’t even know if he can; and imagining the pain that must be bursting through her veins is only making this harder for him.

“You’re just going to pretend like everything is okay? While I stand here, practically begging you to say something to me about all this, you just continue to show off how perfectly fine you are?”

“What?” He asks, nearly dumbfounded by her accusations. “No, baby. That’s not—no.“

He doesn’t know exactly where all this came from, considering there isn’t any part of him that’s feeling any sort of sanity. He’s been suffering, too, no matter how much he tries to hide it for her sake. The masking his hurt has been hiding under has been wearing thin over the past couple of weeks, but he couldn’t bring himself to show her how much this affected him.

He was always the one to stay strong for the both of them. No matter what came their way, he was always the one to bottle up all of his emotions and get them through whatever it was bringing them down. He couldn’t break, especially not in front of her. He has to be the one to mend them back together; he doesn’t have a choice, considering he was the one who broke it up in the first place.

“You think I’m fine? You actually think I’m okay with all this? You haven’t even—you haven’t even seen me before last night, and even then I was a wreck. Y/n, how could you even think like that?”

“Look at you!” She yells, eyes widened and teeth clenched as she speaks. Her hands are at her head, pressing at her temples in complete hysteria and despair. “All fucking pretty and perfect! I don’t see anything wrong with you, like there’s nothing gripping at your throat or feeding your insides with the guilt that should be eating you fucking alive right now!”

“Y/n—“

“And look at me! Just take a goddamn look at me and how fucked up I am! Do you see what the problem is? Do you see how none of this is fair to me? Fuck you and fuck your precious happiness, and fuck your selfish decisions and just fuck you, Harry! Fuck you!

Her voice is harsh and loud enough to nearly echo from the walls. The cries and whimpers haven’t stopped, either, and there’s a certain type of tension building between them that’s nearly sucking the air from their throats.

But she’s not stopping, not yet. She still has so much to say and nothing is getting in her way, not now.

“How did it feel, Harry?! How did it feel to love on some other woman while your ex-girlfriend was alone and breaking on her bed?! Was it nice?! How did it feel?!”

Harry’s jaw clenches once the words leave her mouth, and his hands are balling to fists at the side of his thighs. He’s frustrated—frustrated because she’s so blinded by her own pain that she hasn’t eve acknowledged his. And the way she’s making it sound—like he doesn’t love her, like he doesn’t care—almost makes him throw up.

As much as he fucked up, he never imagined to be perceived as such a villain. She’s looking down on him, digging into his insecurities and accusing him of being a man he knows he’ll never be capable of being, and he doesn’t like it one bit. As much as he had done wrong, he never found pleasure in her pain and he doesn’t even want to think about how that thought processed through her brain.

“Are you being serious right now? You really need to tell me this isn’t some sort of sick joke.”

Her eyes narrow up at him, and for the first time since he’s seen her, she starts to laugh.

It’s a habit she’s obtained whenever she tries to hold back all the anger boiling inside of her. It’s a rare occasion, considering she never really gets mad, especially at him. But she’s on the edge of complete rage, and she feels it building inside of her.

She still has tears falling from her eyes, and they’re both unsure whether it’s from the laughter, the pain, the anger, or all three of them.

“You think I’m joking? You want to hear a real joke, Harry? You saw me. You saw me at the grocery store, you saw me looking at Jessica wearing our shirt and you didn’t do anything! You did absolutely nothing, you just fucking stood there and watched me fall apart. What kind of twisted shit was that, Harry? Did it make you feel good about yourself? Or was it a nice image to look back on while you fucked Jessica the following night?”

All his frustration subsided when her voice started to crack and shake between her words. Her emotions are scattered, along with his, but he can’t help but feel an aching in his chest when he sees how helpless she looks.

Looking back at it, Y/n gets the same exact feeling she did that morning—betrayed, broken, and completely hated. There is no other explanation for it. He had to have hated her, for whatever reason it may be, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

The Harry that loved her would never leave her to fend for herself. He wasn’t the same man she remembered him being. The kindhearted, selfless, loving man she fell in love with was not the man she came to contact with—standing with a mysterious girl, showing her off in the t-shirt that meant everything to him and Y/n.

He had to have hated her.

“Is that—“ his voice cracks, and he has to swallow the lump building in his throat before he continues to speak, “Is that what you think? That I just watched because I’m heartless?”

She sighs, shaking her head softly. She crosses her arms at her chest, tucking her hands beneath them as her eyes drift away from his.

She never thought he was heartless, but there must have been something he had against her for him to not say anything to her. She deserved an explanation, or even a half-assed apology at the slightest. But she got nothing. All she got silence and heartbreak and everything inside of her knew that she didn’t deserve it.

There had to have been something.

“No, I just—I never felt so hated before. It was like—like you found some sort of comfort in watching me suffer. You never did that, Harry. You never did that to me, not in all the years that I’ve known you and knowing that you didn’t want me anymore was like all the life was sucked out of me all at once.”

She closes her eyes as she sobs, clutching the fabric of her shirt in her hands right where her heart is.

“Just imagine feeling your heart stop beating and your lungs collapsing all at once. I thought you hated me, Harry. Nothing was worse than feeling that, nothing.”

An inhumane sound emits from Harry’s chest—something between a sob and a growl—a sound she’s never heard before and it’s utterly pitiful.

He’s never thought of it in that way. The thought of Y/n thinking he’s hated her never crossed his mind, always just assuming that she was so upset because Jessica crept her way into his life. But the more he thinks about it, all the more it makes sense.

When he saw Dan wearing Harry’s ring, all the hope that Y/n was ever going to love him again was ripped away from him. The feeling of betrayal and heartbreak was so overwhelming because while he was suffering from the loss of her, she was finding comfort in somebody else and nothing brought him more pain than thinking she didn’t love him anymore.

And that’s exactly what he did to her. She was waiting for him—waiting for him to come back and fight for their relationship. She was alone and hurt all throughout the nights while he was finding pleasure in another woman to get him through the pain.

He’s put her through so much that she didn’t deserve, and he doesn’t know how he can live with himself for it.

He whimpers, tentatively reaching out for the hand that’s decorated with his rose ring, and slowly brings her against his chest. She buries her face in his t-shirt as she weeps out the rest of her tears, tugging at the back of his t-shirt in agony.

“No, baby. No. Please don’t ever think that. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say, and everything that I wanted to say was getting so scrambled inside of my brain that I couldn’t even understand what was happening. There were so many things, my love. There were so many things I wanted to say to you but I just couldn’t, and it’ll be something I have to live with for the rest of my life.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, squeezing her a little tighter in his arms as he brushes out her hair between his fingers.

She feels his tears at the top of her head, but she doesn’t pay any attention to it. All she can wrap her head around is that Harry’s holding her again, shielding her from any other hurting that could get to her. And as much as she does want to push him away, she can’t, because she can finally fucking breathe again.

“And I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry for all of this. I could never hate you, my love. I love you so goddamn much, you have to believe me. You don’t deserve this pain, sweetheart. I’ll do whatever it takes to mend you, okay? If you give me the chance, I’ll take the time to fix you. You just have to work with me.”

She nods against his chest, pushing him away from her a little bit so that she can look at him in the eyes. They’re red and soaked with tears, but she’s missed them all too much and they still make her weak in the knees.

“This will be a slow process, do you understand me? There’s a lot of lost trust and a lot of work that needs to be done when it comes to our relationship. I’m not risking this again, so we’re taking this slowly. I’ll stay at Gabby’s for another few weeks until I can fully trust you again. You’re not pulling that shit on me where you call Jessica when you’re lonely, you hear me? You call me. We’re in this together and we’re in this for a long time, but we have to do this my way.”

He nods feverishly, closing his eyes as he does so. His fingers dig into her back as he exhales strongly, almost as if releasing a breath he’s been holding in.

“We’ll go at your pace, sweetheart, I promise.”

She smiles softly—a true, heartwarming smile that Harry swears he could look at for the rest of his life. It somehow mends the ache in his chest and he starts to cry from happiness, this time, and he’s never been so relieved in his life.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” She giggles, running her fingertips along his back. “We’re really starting this all over again?“

He smiles down at her, admiring the woman he’s loved with every bit of his heart. She’s never looked so goddamn perfect, either, in this moment of complete serendipity.

“Yeah, we are.”

hazyxthoughts  asked:

"My stomach hurts"

Draco: My stomach hurts.

Harry: It’s just stress.

Draco: Well, walking around Muggle London all day without a wand would qualify as stressful.

Harry: I’m sorry you damaged your wand, but I’m not sitting at Ollivander’s for 12 hours while it gets repaired.

Draco: I asked you to come with me so I wouldn’t have to stay alone, not to drag me through the city. I still feel sick.

Harry: Fine, wait here. 

Harry: *comes back from a street vendor* Drink this.

Draco: What is it?

Harry: Ginger ale

Draco: ale?

Harry: It’s a damn soda, ginger’s good for nausea, just drink the thing.

Draco: You’re seriously trying to get me to drink a potion from a tin can?

Harry: *deep sigh* It’s not a potion.

Draco: I can’t believe, after everything I’ve been through, you’re asking me to put my health into the hands of a Muggle potion.  How do Muggles even know to use ginger?  There’s a statute of secrecy, you know…

Harry: Fine, give it back.  I’ll drink it.

Draco: *looking scandalized* No! You bought this for me. *actually takes a sip*

two days later

Draco: *sitting at his desk surrounded by 8 empty soda cans and a half-drank Red Bull*

Harry: I’ve created a monster.

Kisses Of An Apple | PETER PARKER X READER

Description: While hanging out at the coffee shop the reader’s parents own, Michelle brings up an article that she read in a magazine. One that says you can tell if a person is a good kisser by the way they eat an apple. The reader gets dared by Michelle to put the theory to test, resulting in an interesting Saturday afternoon.

Author’s Note: This was so much fun to write and I hope ya’ll enjoy it as much as I did. My inspiration for this fic came from one a read a while back and really liked. Anyways, if you want to be tagged in any upcoming fics or want to request something feel free to message me.

Word Count: 1521


It was almost too simple. Sitting side by side in the back of the school’s library, shoulders pressed together, and knees touching. Right in that place of not-quite-more-than-friends and nearly at the place of very-obviously-more-than-friends.

It would only take one move for them to become something greater than just best friends. One of Ned’s crazy plans, one of Peter’s embarrassing blunders, one of Michelle’s dry comments that had an obvious hidden meaning. Just something to push the pair together.

Peter and (Y/N), thrown together by some crazy twist of fate, anything could make them Peter and (Y/N).

They’re just waiting on a catalyst.

Keep reading

Whipped…boyfriend!!! (PT4)




Y/N likes to think everything had gone back to normal after that dreadful morning. Harry hasn’t touched the subject, and he seems to be doing fine. She likes to think everything is okay, maybe he was just having an unpleasant day and there’s no point at even asking about it and upsetting him all over again. But she can’t erase the image of his body racking with sobs, eyes pleading and repentant. 

She wants to be able to get past it, but her mind keeps going back to how she’d cried silently while he was in the shower. How every minute that passed, sat alone on his couch, all she could think about was that there was a possibility that when Harry came out, he would tell her that he couldn’t anymore. He’d break her heart with words of ‘still wanna be your friend. We can still be best friends, like we were b'fo’.’ But it wouldn’t be like before.

She wants her mind to forget his gasps of ’m'sorry, love. M'so so sorry.’ But it’s like they’re forever etched into her brain. And every time she looks at his sleeping body next to her in the morning, it’s all she hears, those words.

So no, everything is back to normal in terms of appearances, but she’s been having an inner battle with herself that hasn’t let her sleep at night.

It’s been about two months or so since Harry’s breakdown. They’ve kept to their daily routine; breakfast, work, the occasional surprise lunches, and dinner among other things; but they don’t talk about it. And it’s like when she tries, Harry diverts the conversation to how thrilled he is to start Dunkirk promo, and of course Y/N can’t press the subject when Harry’s got a wide smile on his face, happy to recount and retell moments on set.

And though she still couldn’t forget about it, she’d enjoyed breaking routine, especially for the beautiful scenery that was a wedding in Hawaii. Harry had been a ray of sunshine. He had introduced Y/N to the few amounts of people that hadn’t met her yet. Some of them were interested enough to ask how Harry, a lad who didn’t often engage in proper relationships, had managed to pull such a beautiful lass. Y/N admits she’d gone a light shade of red at the comment, never one to confidently accept compliments, and Harry just wouldn’t shut up about her after that. Not until Y/N playfully slapped his arm after he’d brought up how she’d made him think she was going out with some other bloke, blatantly lying to him to his face.

He’d played about with a sweet little girl who’d taken a liking to him, boop'ing her nose and faking having tripped over something when she was chasing him, letting her tag him only for her to end up trapped in his arms. And she loved seeing him so content.

She loved the short stories everyone had to tell about a too drunk Harry who cuddled anyone from a friend, to a plant he thought was a friend. 

She can’t deny that she’d loved that he was showing her off too. Especially when his friends would make a comment about how whipped he was, which only made him smile wider as he kissed her hand (and she’d squirmed and giggled because his stubble did tickle some). 

It’s safe to say that by the end of that trip, everyone and anyone who’d watched Harry mindlessly kiss Y/N’s temple, arm slung around her shoulder whilst talking with his friends, were convinced they were it for each other. 

She had never really attended a wedding with him before either. And she realised that there was something about getting to see him in that setting that had her wanting exactly that for them one day.

So one can only imagine Y/N’s excitement when Pixie’s invitation arrived. She’d jumped at the idea of going to Spain, and being Y/N, Harry couldn’t deny her that. 

And now here they are. Watching the sun set over beautiful waters; rays of orange and yellow and blue adorning the sky. 

It doesn’t take much to convince Harry for a picture. All she really had to is smile at him and he was putty in her hands.

“Say cheese.”

“Wanna look sexy." 

"Harry! Just, show me those pearly whites." 

"Jus’ take the picture, love.” He’s adamant. 

“Harry.” Her tone monotonous, a hand at her hip like it as she glared at him, a smile playing at her lips.

“Wanna look cool, babe.” He chuckles.

She rolls her eyes, huffing jokingly and holding the phone up horizontally.

And though he’s not exactly smiling, Y/N can’t think of a better way it could’ve come out. 

***

Today is nothing short of a fairy tale for Y/N. Her arms around Harry’s necks. And Harry’s hands on her waist, swaying to none other than “Song Bird.” He takes to whispering the lyrics to her ear, and he can feel Y/N’s smile widen when she buries her head in his neck. 

Harry likes to think he’s a good dancer, even though he tries to abstain from any. But with Y/N, it’s different. He’d only halfheartedly tugged his hand back from hers when she’d tried to pull him up and off his seat, smile much too sweet to actually deny her of a slow dance. And although usually he has to have some amount of alcohol in his system to confidently show any of his moves off on the dance floor, Y/N has him spinning her around gracefully.

When the song nears the end, Harry gives her waist a squeeze before pulling away and taking her face in his hands, firmly pressing his lips to hers in hopes he could convey and express every ounce of love he was for her in that small gesture.

“Ye’ look beautiful, pet,” he whispers, lips grazing hers, pouting just the slightest for them to meet in a chaste kiss, “always look beautiful.”

“You’re too much,” she giggles, fingers wrapped around his wrists.

Harry can only press another kiss to her mouth, too drunk on love to care about anyone watching. 

***

Harry and Y/N are sat back at their table now. He’d groped at her hip and plopped her on his lap after the ninth song when Y/N began to complain about her feet hurting from walking around all day in heels. He’d moved her hair to fall over her shoulder and kissed across her back and at the exposed flesh of her neck. They stay like that for a while until he pats the side of her thigh, at which point she moves to her own seat. Silently, he gestures for her to lift her legs, and then grabs her ankles and brings her feet to lay on top of his lap. One by one he unstraps and slips off her heals and proceeds to dig his thumbs into the dip of her foot, alternating between the two. And Y/N can’t help but look at how her boyfriend’s brows furrow in concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his lips as he works to ease the tension in the muscles. She hums at the touch, Harry smiling in accomplishment, and squeals when he starts tickling. 

“Went from a whipped friend to a whipped boyfriend! S'a step up Harold!” Grimmy pats his friend’s back, a lopsided smirk with a clear intent to insult plastered in his face.

And it’s certainly not helping that he’s helping her strap her heels back on. But again, he doesn’t mind being whipped.

It wasn’t the first time tonite that he’d made the remark either. He’d made it a game actually. The first was while they were conversing with Lou. Grimmy had cheekily strolled past them with a smirk and whisper of ‘whipped’. The second, Y/N was at the fruit bar helping herself to a plate, and Harry kept feeding bits into her mouth as she went about picking what she wanted. He’d offered to take her plate back to the table while she reached for the cutlery, and though Grimmy might have not meant for her to hear it, she still caught the faint ‘whipped’ directed at Harry. The third had been the most embarrassing, at least for her. They had been chatting to an elderly couple, the husband retelling of a vacation he’d surprised his wife with only to find out that cruises weren’t her cup of tea when she wouldn’t come out of their suite bathroom because even though it was smooth sailing, her tummy just couldn’t handle it. At one point Harry had perfunctorily brought up their intertwined hands and pecked at Y/N’s knuckles. Grimmy had, yet again, silently walked up behind them and sing-songed ‘whi-hipped’, at which point Y/N swung her arm around, overestimating her aim, and socked him where she thought would have been his shoulder but was really his neck. Harry had doubled over in laughter at that. Even the wife whose eyes had gone wide couldn’t hold back. After that, Grimmy didn’t bother him any, only playfully shot her a glare when their eyes met.

“Nice t’ see ye’ too, ass.”

Despite his comment, Grimmy leans down to press a kiss to Y/N’s cheek. “I’ll take tha’ as an invitation t'sit down with m'favourite couple." 

"Grimmy’s just jealous he’s got no one to rub their feet." Was it childish that Y/N stuck her tongue out at him? Maybe so, but that’s how their friendship works.

"Oh no sweets. Even if I did m'not touching anyone’s stinky feet.” Dry humour’s always been Grimmy’s specialty.

“Ye’ really are a catch mate,” Harry jabs, taking a swig from his water bottle. 

Grimmy narrows his eyes, “s'tha’ the same outfit ye’ were wearing not even two weeks ago, 'arry?”

“Heyyyy!” Y/N chimes, scolding Grimmy with the sternest face she could pull, “s'my favourite suit of his.”

“Yeh, s'her favourite suit of mine,” Harry mocks. And they all laugh.

After that, any intention Y/N had of staying sober went out the window the second Grimmy came up with the brilliant idea of a game where they’d have to take a shot every time George kissed Pixie. 

You’d think she’d turn it down after the last time she’d gotten sloshed and the fact she’d vowed to take it easy when she did decide to drink. But Grimmy had called her a ninny because ‘s’okay if ye’ can’t handle ye’ liquor, babe.’ And even if she couldn’t, which she thinks they both know he’ll probably end up the winner, she’s certainly not gonna give him the satisfaction of not even trying.

But now, looking back at it, 6 shots in and already feeling it, Y/N really should’ve known better, should’ve thought before hastily agreeing. Of course the bride and the groom are expected to share kisses various times throughout the night at their wedding party. And it was so like Grimmy to demand they kiss every ten minutes, Harry laughing and nodding his head in amusement, or disapproval, Y/N’s not entirely sure at this point.

But she does have to admit she’s having a grand time dancing to “The Time of My Life.” Harry dancing circles around her with his arms up, mouthing along and shoulder shrugging to the beat, an immense smile on his perfect face. She throws her head back in amusement, laughing lively. 

She secretly thanks the heavens that Harry isn’t partaking in any drinking, choosing to stick to water, allowing her to use him as leverage whenever she begins to stumble. 

“Okay, think she’s had enough, Grim,” the comment comes when Grimmy tries to hand Y/N another drink, only for Harry to take it himself and set it at the edge of the round table, away from Y/N who’s got her head on his shoulder and is beginning to fully lean into him from exhaustion. 

“Oh, poo, you’re no fun.” He sticks his tongue out at his sober friend before excusing himself when it’s announced that it’s time for cake.

“Feeling a'right, pet?” His thumb rubs circles on her palm where their hands clasp atop his thigh. 

“Hmm.” Her hooded eyes open a tad slighter when she feels his lips press a kiss to her head before pressing his cheek against her hair. "Yeah. Need to use the bathroom though." 

"C'mon, then.” He takes her hand into his, careful in helping her up, his free hand at the small of her back to steady her.

“M'fine, babe.” She smoothes out the wrinkles on the skirt of her dress and grabs her purse from the table. 

“Ye’ sure? Don’ mind going with ye’." 

"I’ll be fine.” And the giggle emitting from her mouth when she pecks at his exposed chest can’t be any more endearing. He watches her walk past tables of guests, a breath of relief to see she’s good on her feet despite the amount of alcohol she’s consumed.

He sits back down, singlehandedly undoing another button on his shirt as he brings his arm to rest on the back of the chair Y/N was just sitting on. 

And then…

Harry never thought he’d be seeing her face again. It took him a while to control his paranoia, his hyperactive mind conjuring up what he thought to be every possible scenario in which Y/N finds out about what he did. But not this one. 

It catches him completely off guard, his body stiffening at the sight. What throws him off even more is when she spots him and begins making her way to him.

The closer she gets, the farther he wants to get away. 

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.” Her voice sends shivers down his spine. She’s looking at him with…desire? It’s all unappealing if he’s being honest. It feels like she’s trying to lure him in, the way her eyebrow is raised, eyes a bit squinty as she struts closer. He’s making it clear he’s uncomfortable, and if she realizes this, she doesn’t show it, and it doesn’t halt her either.

How was he to know she was a childhood friend of the groom? He’d never seen her at gatherings before that unfaithful night, but in retrospect, he too is guilty of going an endless amount of time without talking to his childhood friends. Harry thinks this is the universe’s way of punishing him for not coming clean. 

His brows furrow in concern. Y/N will be back any second and he’s sure she’ll ask who this woman standing before him is. And it could go one of two ways. 

Harry can introduce her as a friend, but that’d be betraying Y/N on a whole other level. Introducing the woman he slept with to his girlfriend. But he can’t do that. He won’t.

Or. Or what if this woman has the audacity to bring it up. What if Y/N finds out in the worst way possible. 

His hands are sweating in his pockets, body tense. 

“Left so early that morning. Didn’t even stay for breakfast.” The smug look on her face has Harry’s tummy twisting, and he really wants to slap her hand away the second her fingers make contact with the fabric of his suit, fingers running over at the lapel.

And he should stop her right there, but his throat is dry and he’s afraid the second he opens it to add how much of a mistake it was and that he has a girlfriend, is the moment Y/N over hears the conversation.

“You’re a good fuck, you know. Best I’ve ever had." 

He knows she’s trying to get a response out of him, anything that might assure her that he’d had a good time too. 

But he’s not able to get anything out when he notices her stare trail behind him.

"Harry.” Her voice just above a whisper, the sound of heels clicking against the ground growing closer.

No. No no no no. 

Days of the week: Thursday (smut)

Words: 2757 

Warnings: Smut, really detailed sex. Kinks and cursing, spanking blah blah blah.

Reader x All the members (Namjoon)

Days of the week l Monday - Jin l Tuesday - Yoongi l Wednesday: Hoseok l Thursday - Namjoon l Friday - Jimin


Originally posted by btsarmybase

   You got into your dorm as quietly as you could. You were fucked. Literally.  Jin, Yoongi and Hoseok.  You were dying inside but you couldn’t be happier. I mean, they were your idols. And you were going to fuck them all. You were going to be fucked by them all. Oh… But that moment you just wanted your bed. Your body was screaming for mercy, you needed some rest. You did lay onto your bed, relaxing.

“Where the hell were you?” your roommate asked you as soon as you closed your eyes. “I know you are grown up enough to do what you want but, come on! You can at least tell me that you won’t come for the night. Cheesus I was so worried”

You opened your eyes hesitantly. Just get out. You didn’t need to hear that that moment.

 “I am sorry, Bella. I was visiting my uncle. Just relax, I am fine” you whispered, falling asleep.

“You are fine? Oh you are fine. You missed class! It’s Wednesday morning and you were out! Cheesus, what’s wrong with you? You don’t come to your dorm all night and you just appear here whispering an ‘I’m fine’, oh that’s good-“she said, but you were so tired it didn’t take long for you to sleep while she talked.

  That Wednesday went completely normal. You did go to your classes, avoiding questions about where you had been the two days before and trying to focus on everything but in what you were doing. You had to keep your good grades. In the night, you had to take a few more questions and argue from your roommate but nothing heavy enough to let you down. How could you be down anyway?


  You woke up with a buzz of your cellphone. It was your alarm. 10 a.m. Thursday. Shit. You were going to have classes for all day long. You just would be able to see him in the night. You had missed some classes already; you had to go at least to those ones. In the classroom, things were going well till you received a message on your cellphone.

 *I suppose you are in class right now so I’m not gonna ask you to come now. I am freaking horny right now, fuck… I have wondered what fucking you feels like all day. Come here ASAP, ok?

                                                                                                                                NJ*

Your heart stopped. The world stopped. Shit, why did he have to send you that message that moment? After that, you couldn’t focus on your classes any longer, you weren’t listening your teacher anymore. All your mind could think about was in what Namjoon would do to you. Was he really a pervert? A daddy? Judging by that message, he wouldn’t let you dominate him that was a fact. Actually you weren’t expecting to dominate none of them, but ok.  That was going to be awesome.

  Your mind was traveling among all the possibilities that it had for you to let Namjoon fuck you when the bell rang. Finally evening. You almost ran out of the classroom, straight to your dorm. You took a shower and got ready as fast as you could. Luckily, your roommate still had classes, so she wouldn’t bother you. But just in case, you left a note. “Went hang out, DO NOT WAIT FOR ME. Y/N*

You texted Namjoon to see if he was there in the hotel and he replied you almost instantly.

 *Yeah, fuck, I am gonna stretch you real good. Hush*

   You stopped in a junk food store to have some food and made your way towards that hotel. Once you entered into the building, the receptionist looked at you curiously. She had seen you going there the entire week, and there you were again. The bodyguard wasn’t there anymore. Maybe they trust me already.

You knocked the penthouse’s door, being greeted by Jungkook.  He didn’t even look at you.

“Hey, Y/N” he murmured and let you pass.

So, he really is the shy one. Or not.

The guys seemed to be already used to your presence, because they weren’t acting that frenetically anymore. That was good. They said their “hi”. Some of them were playing video games. Jin was cooking. But Namjoon were nowhere.

  “Namjoon is right there” Jin said, signaling to you the room he was, “he said you should go there”.

 You furrowed your eyebrows at that. Why didn’t he appear?

You went to the room you were told to and your jaw fell open. As soon as you opened the door, you were presented with a shirtless Namjoon, wearing only sweatpants and – obviously and apparently not wearing boxers – laid on the bed.

“Close the door” he said simply, not even looking at you to check out if it was actually you. “I am gonna get up of this bed, and I want you only on your underwear as soon as I reach you” he said, starting to walk towards you. You hushed, taking of your clothes as fast as you could, and you made it. Before he reached you, you were only in your panties and bra. He stopped a few inches from you, long enough only to check your body. He looked you up and down, sighing as he scanned you slowly. He looked your eyes, staring at it sexily.

“Let’s play some BDSM?” he asked.

BDSM? No shit. You had never done that before. What if you did something wrong?

“Huh…I am not sure about it…” you said sincerely. He raised his eyebrows.

“Trust me. Do you trust me?” he said, his voice incredibly calming you down. You nodded. He grabbed your chin, making you look at him and smiled.

 “I don’t know if you have already done this before, but I suppose you know the rules already” he said. You signaled a “No” and his smile grew. “Well, first of all, you’re gonna do everything I tell you to, without any hesitation, you got it?” he said, his voice darkening. Shit. No hesitation? “Got it?” he asked again.

You nodded. “Two, you are gonna call me ‘daddy’. If you call me something but it, I’ll spank you as a punishment. Number three, I am gonna spank you anyway” he said chuckling, “but in different ways. That is all. Got it?”

 Wow. That was going to be the death of you and you would end up completely fucked, wrecked and destroyed. The worst part was that you were anxious about it.

“But I gotta ask you something… you mind being cursed? I mean… Slut or something” he asked. Hum… did you? You didn’t know. You had never been cursed before.

“Honestly, I-I don’t know. I have never done anything of this” you said.

“Ok. Let’s see.” He said and crashed his lips on yours, both his hands holding your face. You were holding his arms and tasting his kiss. His was much hungrier than the others. There was nothing sweet or soft in that kiss. He was simply hot, needy, wet and exciting. And you wanted more of him. You pulled him closer, wanting to feel him as close as possible. His tongue invaded your mouth without even asking permission. He did bite and sucked on your bottom lip. You had barely started and you could felt your body getting warmer. His hands traveled down, squeezing your boobs on the process and stopping on your butt, squeezing it harshly.

  “I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you today” he pulled away. “On your knees” you obeyed quickly. Your face was leveled on his erection. He was so damn hard already. He pulled his dick out of his sweatpants. Shit. The pre-cum was dripping.

“Lick it off” he commanded and you did as he said. You grabbed his dick on your hands and licked his tip, soon putting your mouth around it, sucking. He let out a deep groan. You teased him, taking more of him slowly, teasingly, and he noticed it. As an answer, he grabbed your hair and forced you to take more of him. His cock hit the back of your throat and you gagged, trying to pull back. “No. Take it a little bit longer” he said and you tried to control your breath. He did hold your head and started thrusting into your mouth, hitting your throat every time. He was literally fucking your mouth.

You were gagging as fuck, your eyes watering, but it was pleasingly. Soon, you felt the warm and salty liquid slip out of him straight down your throat. Wow.

“Stand up. Strip and lay on the bed” he said. You closed your eyes and took off your clothes, avoiding the shyness growing up inside you. You lay onto the fluffy mattress and from the corner of your eyes you could see him stripping too. Fuck. He was so… hot.

 He did go over you and spread your legs, giving him a full view of your dripping pussy.

“Fuck… Look at this. I haven’t even touched you yet and you are wet. I am gonna fuck you so hard” he whispered. His voice was your death, and you just wanted to be fucked already, but you knew he wouldn’t let you cum this easily.

 He leaned in to take something out of the little desk beside the bed and you froze. Handcuffs. Two pairs of them.

 He looked at you smiling devilish.

“You trust me, remember this. I am not gonna hurt you. Whenever you want me to stop, just say it and I will” he said softly, his caring side appearing. You nodded anxiously. He handcuffed both your wrists on the headboard and then your feet, opening your leg. You tried to move but you couldn’t. You were all vulnerable there. Whatever he wanted to do to you, he would. The idea was getting you even wetter. Ah…

  Once your legs were completely spread, he kissed you while brushing his tip on your entrance. You tried to touch him, but of course you couldn’t. He did go down, sucking your neck roughly – that was definitely going to leave marks – and then your nipples; they hardened fast. Your belly was the next target, he gave it bites and soon, he found the place you wanted him in the most.

 He licked your slit deeply, tasting your juices. He smiled and winked at you. He gave you another lick, this time on your clit, adding pressure with his tongue, making you gasp. That was good, but not enough. You wanted more, wanted to feel him, but every time you tried to move, the handcuffs stopped you.

Suddenly, he introduced one finger inside you, slowly. Once it was completely in, he took out even more slowly, teasing you. You whimpered. You wouldn’t be able to handle that longer. He repeated the process again a couple times, and then started pumping in and out in a fast pace, the juices dripping out of you. He added two more fingers and pushed you to your heaven, but whenever you were ready, he stopped moving. He did that a lot more times, masturbating you, making you almost cum and stopping. He was torturing you, giving you pleasure but not completely.

“Fuck, please Namjoon” you begged. He looked at you, eyes darkened, tongue out of his mouth.

“Baby…” he said, caressing your thighs, “I told you…” you thought he would have mercy, “it is daddy, not Namjoon. I said I would spank you, but I didn’t say where” he said and hit your pussy, right over your clit. You screamed in both pleasure and pain. Shit. That was getting intense.

“I-I am sorry daddy. Please, let me cum” you whimpered, blushing.

“Huh, does my baby girl wants to cum for daddy, huh?” he asked teasingly, fingers playing with your nipple as he spoke.

“Yes, yes, please, I can’t take it anymore” you cried out.

“Take what? This?” he said and brushed your pussy, moving his hand up and down, the friction making you whimper as you tried to rock your hip up against his hand.

“Hum… please” that was all you could say.

“Tell me how you want me to fuck you” he said. What? No.  You were not exactly the vocal type. You hadn’t courage enough to tell how you wanted it. He noticed your hesitation, “I told you not to hesitate. If you don’t tell me, then I won’t fuck you”

Little pervert. You had to do that, if you wanted him to fuck you.

 “F-fuck me with your cock” you whispered afraid that the other boys could hear you.

 “With my cock? That’s what you want?” he said, grabbing his dick into his hand and pumping it slowly.

 “Yes, please daddy” you said, now louder than before, dying to be touched already.

 “If that’s what you want, you’ll get it” he said and let your feet go, but your hands were still handcuffed.  You opened your legs for him and he positioned himself between them, not wasting any time to push in. He let you adjust for one sec and started moving immediately, pounding into you not fast but deeply. You were moaning slow, but it didn’t take long for your moans become little screams as his thrusts became rough and violent, stretching you real good as he said he would.

  “Jesus, you’re freaking tight” he groaned, low moans leaving his mouth as he closed his eyes. You tried to move, to touch him, but you were still handcuffed.

 “Please daddy, let me go” you begged. You needed to touch him.

 “Does my little girl want to touch her daddy, huh?” he said, not stopping his thrusts. You just could nod.

He stopped moving, but only long enough to take off the handcuffs.

“On all fours, now. Since I answered your wish, you’ll answer mine. I’m gonna fuck you from behind” he commanded. You got into the position, waiting for him. “Look at you… You want it, don’t you? You’re a little slut to my fucking cock” he said. Slut? You kinda liked it. You knew it was sexually talking.  You didn’t have to worry about it.

 “Yes. I am” you said, blushing. Before you complete your sentence you felt a heavy hand smack your ass, the loud song echoing though the room.

  “Good enough to spank” he said, hitting your ass cheek once more. You kinda liked it. The pain mixed with pleasure. And then, without a warning, he thrust into you, his dick sliding in easily between your folds. You both let out a deep groan as the pleasure hit you.

He pulled your head back by your hair, leaning in to grab your boobs and lick your earlobe while pounding into you harshly, his thigh slapping against yours, the sound audible. Your walls started clenching around his dick, the good, sweet sensation building up inside you slowly, but deeply.

 “Come on, Y/N. Come for me, come for daddy” he whispered and that was enough. You did cum hard, violently, the warmth of your walls around him making him cum with you.

  You both crashed onto the bed, letting your breaths get stable, your hearts still racing.

  “Did I hurt you? Was I too rough?” He asked, his sweet side appearing again. He was no longer Daddy Namjoon, he was just him.

 “No, Namjoon. This was awesome, really” you said sincerely. That was. You had never felt so much pleasure in a single week. Shit, you still had three others to fuck with.

 “Come here, let me clean you up” he said, offering you his hand. He gave you your time, letting you take a shower and giving you one of his sweatpants and shirts.

 “N-no, I already have Hobi’s clothes, I can’t accept” you said.

“Please. Just take it, I’m not letting you get out of here with sweaty clothes” he said.

You got dressed and so did he. Once you left the room, you did go to the living room, where some of the boys were still playing video games.

  “Damn, Namjoon-hyung, you broke the girl. All we could hear was her screams” Jimin said. You blushed as hell.

 “I’m sorry, but I have my necessities” he said.

 “Come play with us, Y/N. Had some fun with us that don’t involve sex” Taehyung said, offering you a place beside him on the couch, which you happily accepted.

  “I hope you still have some voice available Y/N, because I’ll have you screaming for me even louder tomorrow” Jimin said.

lazyshawn! au

•fluffy bed head hair that he keeps running his hands through
•that low, groggy voice he gets when he’s tired and sleepy
•shuffling around the house to ensure that he doesn’t trip and fall
•"babe come lay on me"
•"why?“
•"i’m cold”
•"shawn there’s a blanket literally right there"
•"i know but i don’t wanna move to get it"
•him whining because you refuse to support his lazy antics
•him reaching out and grabbing you by the waist, pulling you down on top of him
•" ‘don’t wanna move’ my ass"
•him humming a sigh of contentment as he nuzzles into your neck
•feeling his heartbeat against your chest
•him lazily scratching your back and playing with your hair
•"shawn we need to do something today"
•"this IS something"
•"no i mean go outside or something like that"
•"ew no"
•turning on the tv and looking for a movie to watch
•settling on a cheesy rom-com because even though you both would never admit it you guys love them
•falling in and out of sleep while he softly sings to you
•"shawn let go of me i have to pee"
•"hold it"
•"SHAWN"
•"………fine!“
•him whining for you to hurry up so he can hold you again
•you purposely going to the kitchen to make tea just so he has to wait longer for you
•him coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist while you stir sugar into your tea
•you two just standing against the counter while he rests against your back
•going back to the couch and laying your head in his lap while he plays with your hair
•just being content and everything is okay and you two just spend the day being together and loving each other