and like put his hands on my shoulders and was like you can do it!

anonymous asked:

so, um. if you have any particular feelings about labyrinth--specifically Sarah--uh, go wild.

WILD PEACHES  [AO3]

.

The morning after Sarah Williams defeats the Goblin King, she gets up and makes toast. She has to brush some glitter off the toaster—it withers and vanishes at the brush of her fingertips, and she stares at her hand for a long time. 

It mostly just looks like her hand. Even when she turns it over, and sees where she scraped her knuckles against the oubliette, where the shattered mirror cut the back of her wrist. It looks like she fell, or was playing in the street. That’s all.

The toast comes out burned, and Sarah stares at that too. Eventually, she slumps down against the cabinets and cries, wracking sobs that send her dad and Karen rushing into kitchen. They check her forehead for a fever, put their hands on her, and keep asking, “Are you okay? Sarah, please, tell us what’s wrong…”

Eventually, her dad drags her into his lap and cradles her against his chest, like he did when she was little. Her legs are too long to really fit anymore, but Sarah hugs him around the neck anyway. “It’ll be okay,” he says, keeps saying. “You’ll be okay.” And Sarah—doesn’t laugh, because she can’t, and doesn’t have the words to express what—how—

(None of her stories ever talked about this. What did Sir George do, the morning after he slayed the last dragon in England? Did Tam Lin eat breakfast, or did he sit there, shivering, wondering if his hands were different, having been claws and wings and scales?)

Afterwards, she leaves the burnt toast outside on the back porch. Not an offering. Maybe a reminder.

.

It’s Didymus she sees the most often, mostly because he’s the one who invites himself rather than waiting for an invitation. He comes for tea, but even if there’s no tea—which there isn’t, usually—he comes to tell Sarah stories. She learns to love poetry because there’s no escaping it with him. (She won’t read Idylls of the King until Brit Lit in college, but she ends up scrawling a lot in the margins; Didymus’ telling of events had been much more interesting.)

Once, she falls asleep like that, her hands tucked behind her head with Didymus curled up and sleepily reciting from the crook of her elbow. “So tender was her voice, so fair her face—though I don’t think he was looking at her face, my lady, pardon me for saying so—”

Sarah buries her nose in his fur. Didymus always smells of rosewater, and a crispness she thinks is just…the Labyrinth. She falls asleep trying to place it.

She wakes up with a wild fox in her bed, animal-black eyes frightened and flat, teeth bared. The fox is whining, and she’s tempted to throw herself across the room, to get away from this wild thing and its teeth. It takes a monumental will to keep herself still and her breathing slow, even; like she’s still asleep and unafraid. 

It takes her longer to swallow, and start humming one of the songs he taught her—a knight’s round, he’d said. She’s shaky at first, but the fox’s ears flick forward. It cocks its head, and slowly, the teeth disappear behind its lips. 

She almost laughs when noses at her throat curiously, butting its head against her jaw like a cat might.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can you improve my outlook on life and write a very drunk draco clinging to Harry please?

(LOL, I love the way you phrased that and also, I love drunk Draco.)

Potter sat there, leaning back in the booth with his arm slung across the back of the faux-leather seat, his shoulders shaking as he threw his head back and laughed at something the Weasel said. Granger shook her head with a smile of fond exasperation and leaned up to kiss her husband’s cheek. The weird blonde (”Loony Lovegood,” his booze-soaked brain provided) was waving her wand over the she-Weasel’s head in circles - ‘cause that’s normal behaviour for her.

Draco supposed that the thought of going over there ought to feel intimidating - he was completely outnumbered. But perhaps it was because of the eight or so shots of tequila Pansy had dared him into guzzling, or because he was randy as fuck.

Or because he’d just stood there hiding behind the cloak stand by the door and gazing at Potter like a lovesick halfwit far too long - he was no coward. Not anymore.

So he squared his shoulders and marched across the bar, tripping only twice, the second time because of that swaying oaf who’d nearly knocked him over.

Potter blinked up at him with his mouth slightly open.

“Potter.” Draco felt vaguely triumphant that his voice came out steady and calm - and Potter’s form was only very slightly blurry. “Potter,” he repeated, blinking slowly.

“Malfoy,” Potter replied cautiously, one eyebrow sliding up the scarred forehead. “What’re you doing here?”

“I can be here if I want to be here ‘cause I want to be here–” Draco was being very loud - his ears rang a little. Potter scrambled out of his seat, throwing a hasty glance at his friends before coming up to Draco and grabbing his elbow hard. Draco scowled around at the group - Weasley was scowling back, Granger looked thoughtful, she-Weasley looked completely bewildered and Loony, well Loony hadn’t noticed him yet; she was peering into she-Weasley’s ear as though she’d lost something in there.

Potter dragged him away a few paces. “What the hell?”

Draco tried to yank his arm out of his grip but nearly ended up overbalancing and falling onto his arse instead - Potter’s grip tightened.

“Let me go!” Draco slurred, stepping closer to Potter.

“What’re you doing here?” Potter repeated softly.

“I like you,” Draco proclaimed boldly. “I’ve always liked you. You never noticed. You have terrible eyesight.”

Potter pursed his lips, a faint line appearing between his thick brows. “I know I do,” he said, indicating to his smudged glasses.

“I like you,” Draco said once more, his voice decidedly breathy now - ugh. He stepped closer and, oh Merlin, rubbed their noses together. “So much,” he sighed, pressing their cheeks together for a swift second.

“Oh?” Potter didn’t seem put out at all. After staring steadily at him with his stupid green eyes twinkling merrily, Potter asked, “What d’you want, Draco?”

“To go home with you.” Oh shit, he was going to kill Pansy.

Potter simply continued to twinkle at him. “Well, I’m not going to say no to that,” he said very seriously, finally releasing Draco’s elbow to slide both his arms around Draco’s waist and tug him closer.

Draco gasped as he was pressed flush against Potter. He could caught a whiff of spicy aftershave, Firewhiskey and mint; he pushed both hands into the mess on Potter’s head and leaned forward to whisper, “I want you to fuck me.” He pressed his face into the crook of Potter’s neck.

Potter’s arms tightened, the world closed in around him until he was being squeezed almost to the point of pain, and then he was being pulled through dense blackness.


Everything ached. His stomach ached, his back ached, his toenails ached - his eyelashes ached. His head felt like it had exploded and had been put back together before exploding again; even his hair hurt.

He was too close to the sun, his retinas were on fire. The sheets below him were softer than a cloud and smelt pleasantly flowery - his stomach twisted.

He kicked himself out of bed, fell over onto his hands and knees and then half-crawled, half-ran to the bathroom until he was heaving into the toilet. It was another ten minutes before he was able to make himself stand, piss, gargle with half a bottle of mouthwash and wash his face - which also hurt.

Clad only in his boxers he stumbled through the house, following the horrible sound quality of the Wireless and the utterly heavenly scent of fresh coffee.

“Coffee!” he croaked, throwing himself into a chair so heavily that he slipped off the polished wood and landed on his bum. Potter turned around, a spatula with a bright red handle in one hand, took one look at him and nearly fell down laughing.

“Good morning!” he virtually screamed. Draco rested his cheek on the chair and groaned hoarsely, feebly pressing his hands to his ears.

“Coffee,” he whimpered. “What happened to my head? Coffee,” he pleaded once more.

Grinning widely, Potter poured him a large mugful. Shaking his head slightly as he walked over to the table, he set the steaming mug on the table, reached down and nearly lifted Draco off his feet as he helped him onto the chair he’d aimed for. “Let me guess - tequila?”

“I hate Pansy.” Draco wrapped both hands around his jade green mug with the gold polka dots and drew the drink of the Gods closer to him. “I hate tequila. I hate drinking. I hate bars. I hate going out.”

“But you like me.” Potter’s completely deadpan expression made Draco scowl - aarrgh, his face hurt dammit.

“What?” He took a huge gulp and moaned a long, gurgling moan as the gorgeous bitterness spread over his tongue.

“You like me,” Potter said again, leaning a hip against the counter with his arms crossed - he looked on the verge of another bout of laughter.

Draco stared blearily at him for several seconds before fuzzy memories started leaking into his aching brain. Then he let his head thump onto the table with another groan as Potter burst out laughing again.

“I hate everything!” Draco stated miserably. “Stop laughing at me!” His head throbbed when he raised his voice so he promptly shut up.

Potter, still laughing by the way, was loading up a plate with eggs, sausages and strips of bacon fried to crisp perfection - Draco’s stomach rolled and he clamped his mouth shut firmly as the food was set down before him.

Then Draco’s husband cupped his face with both hands, turned his face up and kissed him firmly. “I like you too,” Potter informed Draco.

“I will vomit on you,” Draco threatened.

Potter grinned, kissed his nose and went to get himself a plate of breakfast.


(Any good? ❤️)

2

Mind Reader

Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst adjacent, smut, dirty talk, LOTS of language

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I was looking through some REALLY old requests and I came across an idea from @jennalyncarrigan1230 from who knows how long ago. She pitched an idea that I have twisted and LOVE the outcome. I doubt she even remembers sending the ask, but her initial idea sparked this smutty goodness. This took on a life of its own. I haven’t wrote Dean smut or ANY smut in quite some time. This is officially DIRTY. Or at least by my standards it is. Hope you enjoy. ;) Italics & Bold indicate reader’s thoughts.  This has very little plot. Just the poor reader thinking her secret dirty thoughts about Dean only to have them be not so secret anymore.

Feedback Appreciated

Tags at the bottom

Keep reading

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

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

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

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

NHL!Bitty Masterpost




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

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

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

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

Eric closes his eyes and waits.

Keep reading

It’s a [Tinder] Date! (Part 3/3)

Summary: Thinking he needs to find a date, Natasha signs Steve up to Tinder. In Queens, Peter Parker does the same to you. It’s a match!

Word Count: 3,405

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Almost a month later, but this fic is officially done :D I hope you all enjoy this fluffiness. 

Originally posted by mackievanstan


Work managed to distract you enough to not keep looking at the clock every five minutes. Despite part of your brain telling you that there was no way you had a date with Captain America, there was another part that couldn’t help but to hope this was true. And so, you found yourself daydreaming of showing up to the restaurant and seeing him there. What would you even say to him? What kind of greeting would you use? Would you address him as Captain, or maybe Mr. Rogers, or just Steve?

By the time you got home, you had a few outfit options in mind and made a beeline to the bathroom, taking a shower before you got started on getting ready.

Peter came around as you were choosing between four different outfits you had draped on your bed. He helped you picked the one that was form-fitting, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

“We gotta tease him,” he said.

Keep reading

food truck au 1/??

(inspired by my earlier post)

Anyone who knew Jack Zimmermann would laugh at the idea of him even being able to remember the login for his Twitter account.

No one, not even his parents, would ever suspect that he checked his feed every single morning.

Jack didn’t care much for social media; he was too private a person to ever want the world to know where he was or what he was eating at any given moment. In fact, he only followed three accounts: his mother’s, the official Falconers’, and that of Li’l Dicky’s Southern Comforts. The latter was the only one he actually cared about.

See, Jack Zimmermann had a deep, dark secret – he was in love with the mini apple pies that were sold daily at Li’l Dicky’s. It was the only dessert he ever indulged in on a regular basis, and said indulgences were a secret he would take to his grave.

Every morning, Li’l Dicky’s posted their location for the day. Jack knew the general schedule by heart at this point, but some days the truck switched things up, due to weather or construction or event catering, and Twitter was the only way for Jack to know if he would be able to get his apple pie fix.

It didn’t hurt that Eric Bittle, the owner of Li’l Dicky’s, smiled at Jack like the sun shined out of his ass every time he came by. But really, it was the pies Jack couldn’t enough of. Mostly. Probably.

Keep reading

Popsicles And Kiwis

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N
RATING: R
WORD COUNT: 4800+
REQUESTED: yes !

so this came from a small request about eating a popsicle and accidentally starting something that couldn’t be finished…….i went a bit overboard with it, but i hope u enjoy some smut! please let me know what u think :-) it rLY motivates me ! [feedback] [masterlist]

~*~

Keep reading

You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt: Part 2

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Growing up, people told Y/n that you could die from a broken heart—that the stress on your heart strings could weaken, and all that’s left is the pain in your chest.

Y/n thought her heart would fail her, rupture all that’s left of her and leave her body to decompose. She believed that, if her broken heart wasn’t going to kill her, loneliness and lack of sleep would push her towards her end.

Moving on—something that seemed so simple yet so impossible for Y/n to do.

When the hurt in her chest and the hallucinations from exhaustion started to become too much for her to handle, she was willing to do anything to help herself. She started taking up yoga sessions, started writing music, even started cooking in an attempt to bring herself back from whatever hell she was in.

She even considered moving on; meeting a man at a bar and getting to know more about him rather than his drink order. But something seemed so wrong about that—something was unsettled inside of her at the thought of being with someone who wasn’t Harry.

The image of Jessica in Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt was enough to haunt her nearly every hour of the day. She started going mental, constantly wondering what they were doing together in the moments she was most vulnerable. She wondered about their love life, their future, their interests. She thought about everything.

It wasn’t until Gabby was determined to mend the broken girl raiding her house, finding any possible excuse to give her a sense of life again, that Y/n found the slightest bit of hope.

Y/n was losing it, entirely, and Gabby refused to continue being a bystander.

Gabby had set Y/n up on a blind date only a couple weeks back, practically begging her to seize every opportunity she possibly can to get over Harry. It was all Gabby could do to help her, considering nothing quite helped Y/n’s well-being since the breakup.


“Oh, he’s just so perfect!” Gabby squealed, clapping her hands before gripping tightly around Y/n’s wrists in excitement. “He’s gorgeous! Amazing blue eyes—breathtaking, really! And he’s so sweet, Y/n! I haven’t met a single person who’s disliked him and he’s such an amazing photographer! And his teeth! His teeth are marvelous! Do you know how hard it is nowadays to find a man with nice teeth? I mean—“

By then, Y/n had dozed off, and it wasn’t for any personal reason against Gabby; she’s appreciated every bit of hard work to help her through the heartbreak Y/n’s been dealing with nearly half of a year now. It’s just that she wasn’t ready to move on, not that she didn’t want to.

It had been nearly five months, which may seem like such an abundance of time to rid feelings for somebody, but did time really help moving on from someone she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with? It seemed nearly impossible. She could barely see herself looking at other men in a romantic sense, how could she see herself going on a date with somebody? Especially when she was still in love with somebody else?

She was biting the bullet with letting time heal her, but she felt that was the only way. Nothing more could help her. If anything, she believed dating would make it worse, if she were being honest.

But the look of excitement Gabby had at the mere thought of Y/n being happy again was something Y/n found nearly impossible to resist. Besides, she had definitely been overstaying her welcome at Gabby’s house no matter how much Gabby’s tried to deny it and has put so much stress onto her that maybe, just maybe, doing this one favor for all that she’s done for her.

“So, what do you say?”

Y/n blinked harshly when Gabby’s voice drowned out all the scrambled thoughts in her head, shaking her head slightly to regain her understanding of reality.

“What?”

“Monmouth Coffee Shop at noon tomorrow. Dan really wants to meet you, Y/n! Please!”

Y/n’s eyes widened, snapping her head up to meet Gabby’s hopeful eyes.

“The Monmouth?! Are you crazy?! That’s Harry’s favorite coffee shop, you know that! Dan and Harry probably know each other, that’s how much he goes there!”

Gabby’s eyes narrowed as her lips pursed, gaze directing toward the ceiling in thought.

“Harry? Harry who? I don’t remember who that is, never heard that name in my life.”

Her tone reeked with sarcasm, which made Y/n’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. As much as she wished Gabby’s negative remarks about Harry were comedic, there was always something about them that infuriated her. She always supposed it was the instinctual aspect of loving someone so much.

Gabby sighed as she reached her hand up to rub Y/n’s shoulder gently.

“Look,” she began, “you’re my best friend and I hate seeing you like this. You’re not the same Y/n I always knew, and I think you see yourself that way, too. And in all honesty, I don’t give a fuck about Harry anymore. As sadistic and twisted as it sounds, I don’t care about his emotions, or how he feels. He did this to you. He killed a part of you and I feel it’s my obligation to help you through this. So, please, go out with Dan tomorrow. He works at Monmouth, he’ll meet you before his shift starts at 1:30.”

Gabby’s arm slid off of Y/n’s shoulder at the shadow of uncertainty behind her eyes. Even though Gabby understood all the pain and hesitation, she didn’t want to see Y/n suffer another day. She just couldn’t.

“Please,” she whimpered, “Dan has been the only sense of hope I’ve gotten to make you happy again. Just do this one thing, please? And if it doesn’t work, then you can blame me. I’m just trying here.”

Y/n coughed slightly, her inability to say no wearing off of her at Gabby’s desperate pleads. It was an opportunity to turn things back around in her life, and if it didn’t go as planned, she really didn’t have anything more to lose.

She nods her head softly.

“Yeah—yeah, okay. I’ll meet him.”

Maybe this would be good for her.


Dan is lovely, always caring for Y/n and making sure she feels like loyalty whenever she’s around. He puts her first, in everything, and made a rule that the date can’t end until I hear you laugh at least six times.

It’s cute, really, how effortless he is at giving someone so much attention. Y/n likes it—loves it, even, but it still never feels right to her. She sees something with him, but nothing long term, not in the way she sees Harry.

But he’s good for her now, when she’s at her worst and needs someone to be there for her. He’s able to provide her with the company she desperately needs in order to cure the possible fatalities that came with her broken heart.

“Thank you for the coffee, it was great.” Y/n smiles softly, her cheeks blushing slightly as she traces the rim of her coffee cup.

It’s nearly their tenth date, and they still meet at the Monmouth at noon before his shift. It’s become a routine for them, meeting together at noon before Dan drops her off at the parking station. It became something they both looked forward to throughout their week, and soon became more of a tradition between them.

Dan grins, almost instinctively wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulders so that her head makes rest on his chest. He sighs, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head before resting his chin where his lips once were.

“Of course. I’ll be getting out at around 6 o‘clock so maybe I can stop by for a few? Maybe watch a movie?”

He knows the answer before she says it—his constant attempts to get closer to her always seeming to fail. There’s always a hesitation, or always an excuse to prevent them from being alone together.

He’s well aware that there are parts of her that need to be fixed, still being completely destructed by her ex-lover. He’s tried tirelessly to get her to open up and to trust him, but there’s a thick barrier still in their way of each other. It disheartens him, to know she refuses to let him in.

She sighs, guilt evident in her breath as she softly pushes away from him.

She does that often, he’s noticed it.

She feels horrible for doing so every time. Everything between them has remained stagnant, nothing being built so that nothing could be knocked down. It’s not that Y/n doesn’t trust him, it’s that Y/n doesn’t trust herself. She’s still in love with someone else, and she can’t hurt Dan—not in that way.

“I think I’m just going to—“

“Yeah, I know.” Dan nods, arms moving to cross at his chest, “I get it. Just like every other time.”

Y/n reaches her shaking fingers to brush her hair behind her ear, guilt flashing in her eyes as she refuses to meet his gaze. She’s familiar with the look he has on his face well enough to know he’s upset again, being constantly shut down by her.

“I’m so sorry, Dan.” She whispers, “But I’m trying. I want to keep trying with you. If you let me.”

He looks unconvinced, as he’s been hearing this for a while now. But something inside of him can’t quit her, no matter how much his intuition tells him she’s a dead end. Maybe he feels sorry for her on a level he’s never felt sorrow for somebody else. No matter how much she hides it, she really does need him. Not in a romantic level, but she does need him to show her that he cares for her and that he’ll always be there. She needs that sense of security, and he’s the only one that can provide it for her.

“Yeah,” he nods, “we can keep trying. It’s okay, I’m here for you.“


Harry had been living in his studio for the past couple of weeks. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it was much better than sleeping on his and Y/n’s bed—alone.

That’s all he’s felt since their break up—lonely. It’s quite strange, considering Harry had millions of supporters, an entire band throughout his solo career, and producers around him nearly every hour of the day. He used to complain that he never had alone time anymore, that between all the constant traveling and being at the peak of his career, it was hard to find time for himself.

But now, in the midst of everything happening in his life, he wishes to feel that sort of hustle again.

Y/n was the person that kept him grounded through everything. She was the one consistency in his life, which gave him all the more reasons to love her. Whenever he was overwhelmed with the pressure put on him, or feeling homesick during his travels, she was always the one to keep him at bay and give him a sense of clarity.

Home hadn’t become a house, instead, Y/n’s heart. Wherever she was, he felt at home. Even when she was half way across the world, it was her voice that brought him back and reminded him that, no matter how much he missed the walls of familiarity, home was always a phone call away. She gave him that sense of comfort everywhere she went, it was truly amazing.

And when he broke up with Y/n, he didn’t think of how much everything around him would be affected. He thought time would do them best—would help mend the relationship that seemed to be collapsing beneath their feet. Their connections were lost, replaces by uncomfortable silences and unbarring arguments.

He didn’t think of the consequences when he did it. He didn’t think about how lost he’d become, or how he had no place to call home, or how there was no consistency in his life anymore. There were so many aspects of his life that Y/n had given him—so much of them that he didn’t realize until she moved out.

It was the exact reason he started dating Jessica. She was a great distraction, a beautiful woman to take his mind off of everything.

They weren’t much of anything. Nothing about them was exclusive besides what the media saw of them: boyfriend and girlfriend moving in together in London. It was far from the truth, really. He was with her to terminate his dry spell and rid his loneliness, and she was with him because he infatuated her.

He ended it all, though, that same morning Y/n found Jessica wearing their shirt. The entire incident gave him a realization; that nobody could fill his void like Y/n did.

The fear of losing her forever and making her believe he was in love with somebody else was enough to break him out of his selfish ways. She had been waiting for him for months, and when he returned, he wasn’t the same man he was.

Not only did Harry know that Y/n lost all her faith in him—he lost all faith in himself, as well.


“I’m so screwed, Nick. I fucked up everything. Everything.”

Harry was laying with his back flat against the studio couch, hands rubbing down his face as he tried to steady his harsh breathing.

It was just after he had run into Y/n at the grocery store, where she had seen Jessica wearing Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt. Although he was practically mute during the encounter, everything hit him at once after Y/n and Gabby walked out.

He called Nick in a hurry, incoherent and completely disoriented from the tears he’d broken down into. Everything he thought would be mended completely fell down on them—all because of him.

“Jessica was wearing the shirt with the—fuck, you know the shirt, and Y/n saw and she was such a mess, Nick. I didn’t even say anything to her, she was practically begging me to say something and I didn’t say a word.”

Nick sat cross-armed on one of the chairs, directly across from Harry. He wished he could have felt remorse seeing Harry in such distress, however, he never agreed with Harry’s actions and made it clear numerous times. In his eyes, this was karma’s ticking time bomb.

“You tend to be a real jackass sometimes, you know that?”

Harry lifted himself up so that he could sit properly. His body slumped against the back of the couch, head rested in his palm as he coughed uncomfortably at Nick’s choice of words.

“You let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to you and then you just move on, as if she meant nothing, and you think you just fucked it all up now? Over the goddamn t-shirt?”

Harry scowled at him.

“I haven’t moved on, and it’s more than just a t-shirt, you know that. That was ours.” Harry defended, glaring over at his direction.

“So why was Jessica wearing it after you fucked her on the bed you and Y/n shared every night for the past three years?”

Something about Nick’s words gave Harry a foul taste in his mouth. As much as he wished Nick didn’t say it in that way, that’s exactly what Harry did, and knowing he had to live with that for the rest of his life made his stomach flip inside of him.

He really did fuck it up. Nothing he did was excusable, nothing he did was forgivable. He betrayed the one woman he loved so dearly—the one woman he’d always consider his soulmate. He really, really fucked it up.

He gulped as he tried to find words to justify himself. There was really nothing he could say.

“She—she had just put it on while I was sleeping and when—when I noticed she just wouldn’t shut up about breakfast and I couldn’t just be like ‘Hey, Jess, could you take off that shirt? That belonged to me and my ex-girlfriend and I don’t appreciate it?’ How could I do that?”

He sighed, leaning his face into the palm of his hands as he looked back onto his experiences with Jessica. Was it all worth it? Was she really worth all of this?

“She means nothing to me, Nick. I lost the girl I love for somebody who doesn’t mean anything to me.” He whispered, “How do I live knowing that?”


It’s nearly two in the afternoon when Harry finally decides to leave his studio. He’s been working on some songs he found himself writing during his free time, something he found therapeutic throughout the past couple of months.

Recording and writing have become the only distractions that seem to work for Harry. Everything else became temporary. Writing out his emotions and singing the words he wishes he could say has been the only sense of closure he’s had in a while.

“Dan! Long time no see!” Harry smiles when he enters Monmouth, a familiar face being something he finds so relieving.

Dan looks up from his register, reaching over the counter to give Harry a hug as he greets him enthusiastically.

“Haven’t seen you in quite a while. On your lunch break?”

Harry nods as his eyes squint, reaching for the back of his neck as he reads over the menu.

“Yeah, kind of in a hurry today if you don’t mind. Can I just get a medium coffee with almond milk, please? And a slice of apple pie, feeling kind of brisk today.”

Dan works his fingers across the cash register, yelling out his order to the barista before making small talk about the weather. Considering Harry hasn’t been seen in Monmouth nearly as much as he used to, they both found it nice to catch up with each other for the short while they’ve been distanced.

When Dan reaches over to give Harry his spare change, an all too familiar silver ring catches his attention immediately. At first glance, he swears his heart stopped beating.

There’s no way, there’s just no way that could be the ring Harry gave to Y/n. Dan and Y/n have never met before, considering she had only visited here a handful of times during Harry’s lunch break. And even then, she would just stand patiently by the door while Harry waited to retrieve his order.

There’s just no way, but the top of the rose has a particular rust on it that resembles Harry’s perfectly—and no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen it, he’ll never forget what it looks like.

Harry’s hand grips onto Dan’s wrist instead of reaching out to grab the spare change laying upon his palm, flipping over his hand to inspect the silver ring snug almost too perfectly around his finger. He’s aggressive, movements harsh and face tight with anger, but at this point in time, the last thing Harry’s worried about is Dan’s slightly intimidated composure.

“Where did you get this?”

Unlike his demeanor, his voice is soft and breaking between each word. There’s an unrecognizable shift in his eyes when he sees the wear and tear Harry knows he caused before gifting it to Y/n. This is most definitely his, and knowing Y/n was the one who gave it to him makes him nearly throw up all the contents in his stomach.

“Girlfriend gave it to me,” Dan smiles “well, not really my girlfriend yet. But you know how they are. I told her I liked it and she insisted I have it.”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, making him nearly whimper when he opens his mouth to speak.

He’s never felt so much pain before. The breaking that was once only in his heart spread like wildfire across every bone and ligament in his body. It burns, the sudden realization that Y/n has a boyfriend, that Y/n is no longer going to be there—waiting for him—the way he always expected her to be, that Y/n has taken it upon herself to seek revenge on him so that he can feel everything she felt that one Sunday morning at the grocery store.

And it’s then he realizes that this is nothing compared to everything he’s put her through. In his favor, this is just a stupid ring her gave her for her birthday because he loved the way she twisted it around his finger. It didn’t have much value between them, just something small they shared. He couldn’t imagine the hurt he would have now, standing her, if Dan were wearing their Lover t-shirt.

“Wh—What’s her name?”

His voice is in a whisper now, only the slightest bit of hope draining from his body when he hears Dan speak again.

“Y/n. She’s a good girl, you’d like her.”

Harry almost laughs. You’d like her. He has no idea, he’s in love with her.

It’s as if every part of Harry’s body begins to shut down. Maybe it’s from the shock, or the overbearing pain he feels in his chest, but he suddenly begins to feel lightheaded. His muscles turn numb and all his orientation seems to scramble as if he’s intoxicated.

Dan’s eyes narrow when he sees all the color drain from his face, his eyes widened and soaked with tears. He watches as he nearly falls backward, only to balance himself with his foot when he takes a proper step away from the counter.

“Harry? Harry, you alright?”

Never fucking say my name again is the first proper thought that his brain can register. But his throat is tight and his tongue is numb. He attempts to take a breath of air, but he feels like his lungs are collapsing in his chest, preventing him from doing anything besides stumble uncoordinatedly out of the Monmouth doors.

He’s falling apart—that’s exactly what it feels like. He feels like every limb is falling from his body as he walks towards his car. He doesn’t know exactly how he’s moving, even if he’s stumbling on his own two feet and colliding into stranger’s bodies as he does so, he doesn’t understand how his body finds the strength to keep moving.

Y/n moved on. Y/n’s dating Dan. Y/n gave his ring to him. It’s all over, everything is over.

“No” he mumbles frantically, jealously flowing in his veins, chest heaving from the sobs that are threatening to spill out of him, “no, no no no.”

He starts to wonder where he’s missed it, and exactly how long it’s been since Y/n moved on. She was so broken at the grocery store the other week; what could have possibly altered her feelings that quickly? Did Dan really impact her that much?

But that’s his girl. Y/n is his girl, she’s the one he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Even with Jessica, even with everything that’s happened, Y/n is his soulmate, and there isn’t anything in the world that can convince him otherwise.

Nobody is going to take her from him. He refuses to believe she belongs to somebody that isn’t him; there isn’t an atom in his body that doubts their companionship.

Before he thinks twice—before he really gives himself a chance to stop himself—Harry slides his cell phone out of his back pocket once he reaches his car. He slumps against the hood as his fingers work furiously across his screen.

There has to be something, at least some sort of proof that this is really happening to him, that this isn’t in a nightmare he can easily wake himself out of. There had to have been a hint, a warning for him to have. She would have never moved on without saying something to him. They were so strong together, she would have never left without closure.

Nothing about it makes sense.

And then, he sees it.

He falls to his knees, hitting the concrete harshly below him. His body gave out from beneath him, his muscles and bones failing him.

It’s there, right in front of him, mocking him and all the shitty decisions he’s made. It’s there—on Y/n’s private Instagram page—a picture of Dan holding Y/n’s hand on top of a table in Monmouth, Harry’s ring wrapped perfectly around his pointer finger.

Steele rose has never looked so good xx.

lordmushroomkat  asked:

Writing request. Klance. Mutual pining. Supportive mechanical telepathic cat-parents.

man i feel like I could easily write 15 000 words about this haha. Trying to make this idea small is hard, but let’s give it a go. 

“So what do we do? We’re a paladin down now.” Pidge states. It’s a topic they’ve been dancing around. Shiro is gone, and yes of course they will find him again, but until then they can’t just… not form Voltron. 

“Keith takes black. Yeah ok, so that’s resolved.” Pidge continues.

“Are we honestly…” Lance starts to interrupt.

“But there’s STILL five lions.” Pidge shoots Lance a look. She knows he wants to argue the leader Keith point, but that’s another discussion. 

“We need another paladin.” She concludes. The group all stare at each other, not sure of what to suggest. The air is stale. 

“I….” Allura starts. Coran grabs her arm protectively. She turns to him with an understanding smile, pats his hand, and steps out of his grip.

“I will fill in.” Her commanding voice rings in the Lion’s hangar. Hunk nervously wrings his hands. Keith looks skeptical. 

“Princess, we need you to…”

“Who else do we have?!” Allura implores. “No one knows the lions like I do. I’m already a part of this team, so it’ll be easier for me to bond than some outsider!”  

The others all share a look. It had to be Allura. Of course it did. But it was a shame that it had to come to this. 

“Who will you pilot?” Hunk moves the discussion forward. Allura smiles and taps her chin thoughtfully. Her eyes move around to look at all the lions. She sighs at a fond memory. 

“My father was the red paladin, and if Keith is piloting black then…” Allura steps towards the red lion. She smiles and places her hand on its barrier. It vibrates under her touch, but does not break.

“It just seems logical.” There’s fondness in her blue eyes. She leans forward and places both palms on the barrier.

“Of course there is the issue of the red lion being the most temperamental so…” Allura laughs. The barrier doesn’t budge under her. Still keeping her out. Keith shakes his head. 

“She doesn’t like it when you call her that.” He sings.

Allura winces. She pats the barrier gently. 

“Ah, sorry girl. I didn’t mean it.” She coos. “I understand how important your paladin is. I know how much you need to trust them. I don’t want to push, but please… please I need you to…” Allura pauses. Her mouth goes taut. She stares at the giant beast in front of her trying to sense it. She leans against the barrier with a frustrated sigh. 

“How did you do this, Keith? I can tell this isn’t working at all.”

“I blasted myself out of an airlock if you must know.”

“Guys, guys,” Lance holds up his hands. “You’re going about this all wrong. For blue and I…. it was like love at first sight!” Lance saunters over to where Allura stands. 

“Your lion is your lady, and she has to know that you are going to love and respect her. You can’t grovel, you gotta woo her.” Lance stands next to Allura. 

“Mind if I show you?” He grins. Allura rolls her eyes.

“Oh yes please. Demonstrate for all of us.” 

Lance rises to the bait. He clears his throat. 

“Hello Red, you look radiant as always. Would it be ok if I spent the evening with you?” He raises his hand to knock on the barrier. 

He immediately falls through. With a vibration and a crackle, he stumbles into the red lions perimeter. He catches himself before he eats cement. He turns to beam at everyone. They look on with disbelief. Particularly Keith.

“See!” Lance exclaims happily. His voice sounds distant and crackly inside the barrier. “Just like that!” He turns to shoot finger guns at the red lion. “Thanks red, you’re beautiful. i love you. Ok Allura, if you just want to…”

Lance bumps against the barrier.

He stares at it in confusion. He tries to step forward and bumps against it once more.

‘What…?” He whispers. 

“Oh no…” Allura stares. Pidge’s eyes widen. Keith starts to look manic. 

Allura, Hunk and Pidge all touch the barrier. None of them can get in.

And Lance can’t get out.

Lance starts to push harder against the barrier. 

“Guys, I can’t…. how do I…?”

“Lance, Lance…” Allura shakes her head. She holds his gaze through the barrier. 

“She’s chosen you.”

Lance’s chest goes cold. He turns over his shoulder to look at the monstrous lion. The red glow around him is bright and hurts his eyes. Nothing like the soothing aura of Blue.

“What?! No! No! Nononono! Blue’s my lion! I’m not giving her up!” Lance beats on the barrier. it flickers underneath his fists. 

“Let me out! Keith! Come talk to your lion! Get me out of here! Tell her I can’t do this! I WON’T do this!”

“Lance, it’s ok. I’m coming I’ll…” Keith smacks into the barrier. So confident that it would peel away for him, that he hadn’t even tried to slow down. He rubs his knee that collided and hisses. He raises his hand to the barrier and pushes. It firmly pushes back. 

“Lance…” He breathily whispers. Lance places his palm opposite Keith’s, so they look like they are touching, but the barrier crackles firmly between them.

“I can’t get in.” His breath shakes with emotion. “She wants you. She’s chosen you.”

Lance blinks away tears. 

“B…but Blue. Blue’s mine. No one can….”

Soft footfalls echo across the hangar. Allura has taken off and runs towards where Blue stands. At a full sprint, she charges forwards and Blue’s barrier easily dissolves around her.

“Alright!” Alurra gives a victorious cheer. Blue lurches forward, opening its mouth ready for Allura to board. 

Lance’s heart breaks. He falls forward. Keith worries his lip and presses himself as close to Lance as he can. Hunk and Pidge wisely walk away. 

“Lance. Lance, I’m so sorry.” Keith whispers. His voice rattles in the comms of Lance’s helmet. 

“But out of everyone here…Red has chosen you. She needs you. Can’t you feel her?”

“But she’s yours, Keith. She’s yours and you’re hers.” Lance’s voice trembles. He looks up into Keith’s face. 

“I know. And she’ll always be mine so….” Keith swallows. “I’ll need you to take really good care of her. She’s trusting you, Lance. I’m trusting you.” Keith looks up with glassy eyes. Blue may have let Allura in, but here Red was actively locking her own paladin out. A surge of sympathy courses through Lance.

“Keith, I’ll…”

Metallic whirring causes lance to turn. Red has bowed down and opened her mouth wide, inviting Lance in.

“You have to go.” Keith states and turns to leave. Lance goes to grab him, but his hand smacks painfully against the barrier.

“Keith wait!” He calls. Keith pauses. His eyebrows knit together and he waits. Lance steps back from the barrier with a frustrated sigh. 

“If I…If I could hug you I would.” He announces. Keith’s eyes widen. 

Keep reading

Imagine... Dean finding a Victoria’s Secret Bag

Originally posted by twoidjitsinthesalvageyard

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: quick little Dean drabble for you guys! For those of you who have seen NCIS, this was sort of inspired by the way Tony DiNozzo sneaks around when he’s prying into Tim and Ziva’s stuff. Hope you like it!

Keep reading

36″ x 48″ (M)

word count: 3.6k

genre: smut; idol!verse

pairing: reader/taehyung

warning(s)/kink(s): intercrural sex (thigh fucking) + dirty talk + come play + size kink (?)

a/n: the title is a joke about canvas size, that of which is a large size for one lmao

masterlist

Originally posted by taehyungsource

Keep reading

Kiwi, Though.

A/N: this is a bit of an extension of the birthday bows/valentine woes world, but certainly functions as a stand alone piece.  thank you for the request*, nonny 😘

this is a very, very smutty, dirty piece about anal so if that’s not your thing, turn back now. there’s a lot of movement in this, so please offer me a bit of suspension of disbelief and just know that harry and his missus did everything they needed to in order to be clean and safe in this encounter.

*requests are currently closed


He didn’t mean it. Really, he didn’t. Well, he did, but he didn’t. And he certainly didn’t mean it anymore. Not now. Not now that you were hanging it over his head and torturing him with it.

It had been just another nightly FaceTime before bed from miles and miles apart; well bedtime for you, the night had only just started in Jamaica. And it was just typical banter to hide the sour feeling due to return once you hung up. And it was just a sly comment to rile you up, get you excited to join him in Jamaica in a few days.

“Yeh not gonna be able to keep yeh hands off me, love.” And that would have been enough, but Harry often struggled when it came to shutting his big, stupid mouth. “Not even if yeh wanted.”

Your eyes went wide in surprise, mouth ajar with incredulity. “Excuse me?” you scoffed. “I can keep my hands to myself much better than you can, H.”

“Right.” A cocky smirk crossed his lips. “Always got yeh hands all over me, kitten, ’specially when we’re reunited. S’never enough with you. Keep me up all night–satisfy your every need–but then yeh right back on me in the mornin’. Insatiable, you are.”

“If I’m insatiable, what’s that make you?!” Sure, he was right; you liked a few sleepless nights upon reunion, enjoyed testing the limits of your bodies, but it’s not like he protested. It’s not like he didn’t want to explore your body, relearn your inner workings mind, body and soul and try a few new things, too.

“Sex slave. At your every beck and call, kitten.” He was pleased with himself, grinning ear-to-ear as he teased you.

Keep reading

Dirty Dancing

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Hoseok (J-Hope)

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 5,242

Summary:  It’s the summer and all you want to be doing is hanging out with your friends. Your parents have other ideas and when you end up at a resort in the middle of the mountains, the only bright thing in sight is the dance instructor, Hoseok. If only said dance instructor didn’t seem to completely hate you.

Originally posted by jimins-bunss

Keep reading

Sex with Ethan and Grayson would include ♡

Request: ‘’What do you think Grayson and Ethan would be like in bed, like in detail??? xxx‘’

Just to be clear: I think that the twins most of the time would be really gentle and passionate buttt also could be really rough and lowkey kinky when having sex. Because let’s face it: they’re sex gods and just from looking at them I get really turned on, lol. BUT I do think that Ethan is more into kinky stuff and Grayson into more romantic sex ;) Hope you enjoy xx

ETHAN:                                                                                                           

↪ Lots and looots of sex

↪ Sexting before as a warm up ;)

↪ He would be dominant af, but sometimes sub as well

↪ Lazy morning sex

↪ Rarely slow and passionate sex and most of the time really rough and maybe even kinky?

↪ You stripping down for him and he licking his lips when you do

↪ He would be the KING of foreplay (I mean looook at those fingers)

↪ Teasing the freaking fuck out of you until you’re almost begging him to fuck you

↪ Running his lips over your panties and pulling at the waist

↪ His lips on every centimeter of your body

↪ You pressing your mouth against his shoulder to keep yourself from crying out his name

↪ Lots of making out, and kisses everywhere!

↪ HICKIES and love bites on very visible places on your skin

↪ ‘’E, I can’t go out like this’’

↪ ‘‘Sure you can, everyone will know that you’re mine’’

↪ Him grabbing hungrily your ass and squeezing your boobs

↪ Sex in public bathrooms if he’s feeling very horny or jealous when he saw other guys staring at you

↪ Sooo much moaning and panting

↪ Him smirking when you moan SUPER loud (which is like all the time)

↪ Low and deep groans from him (just imagine this omg)

↪ Sweaty and hot skin

↪ SpANKinG

↪ THIGH RIDING

↪ Hair pulling !!

↪ Eye contact (SO sexy)

↪ Lots of dirty talk

↪ ‘‘Eyes on me’‘

 ↪ ‘‘Be quiet, babygirl’‘

↪ ‘’Yeah, you like that huh?’’

↪ Eating you out like 24/7

↪ Him biting his lips when he sees you reaching your orgasm

↪ Him begging you to give him a blowjob

↪ Taking turns in pleasing each other

↪ Letting you know that you’re the most beautiful girl in the world

↪ Really intense orgasms

↪ Experimenting with different positions

↪ Soft whimpers

↪ Him grabbing your waist when you climb on top of him

↪ Him getting even more stimulated and loving it when you scream his name

↪ Him breathing heavily and unsteady into your neck

↪ Holding your hand when you cum (when you have really passionate sex)

GRAYSON:

↪ Sex like ALL the time when you’re spending time just at home

↪ Usually it would be pretty spontaneous but sometimes he would prepare some things and put lots of effort into making it special, like:

↪ Your favorite music playing in the background, dimmed lights, scented candles

↪  Most of the time he would be really gentle and careful but sometimes it would be really fast and rough

↪ Again: FOREPLAYYY! Foreplay would for sure include fingering, teasing and touching you everywhere (because let’s face it: Gray is really touchy)

↪ I just know that Gray would be very good at foreplay (I mean LOOK at those fingers and big hands oh my)

↪ Shaky hands when you reach your orgasm and him holding them

↪ Tracing your skin with his soft fingertips

↪ Slow movements

↪ ‘’Just fuck me already’’

↪ ‘’Patience, baby’’

↪ Every little thing you would argue about would get heated and lead to sex

↪ Also A LOT OF make up sex

↪ Him admiring your body and smiling when you undress yourself

↪ Complimenting you on your cute lingerie

↪ And him taking forever to pull it off

↪ ‘’Need some help?’’

↪ ‘’I will treat you like the queen you are’’

↪ Lots of making out and sweet kisses

↪ Giggling all the time

 ↪ ALWAYS asking if you’re comfortable since he’s worried that he would hurt you

 ↪ ‘‘Are you sure you’re okay? Do I need to slow down?’’

↪ Sex in his new car, sex in the shower, sex at the beach, sex in the bath, sex against the wall… Literally everywhere as long as you’re okay with it

↪ You grabbing his muscular arms when you reach your climax

↪ Him grunting when he’s thrusting into you

↪ Offering blowjobs as favours

↪ Him saying ‘Babe, tonight is all about you’ but like, every night

↪ Neck kisses and leaving hickies there also

↪ He would get ten times more horny when he sees you getting an orgasm while closing your eyes

↪ Him whispering ‘come for daddy’ when holding your legs apart

↪ Multiple orgasms a night since he knows your body so well and the things you like

↪ Cuddling and more soft kisses afterwards and limbs tangled in the sheets

↪ Him calling you baby/babygirl/princess/love/darling

↪ So much intercourse

↪ Eating you out like everytime you guys have sex

↪ And when he does you stroke your hands through his fluffy hair

↪ Lots of ‘i love you’s

↪ Bruises on your hips from his tight grip

↪ You falling asleep on top of him after the sex

↪ Him being completely fine with that and whispering sweet nothings into your ear and stroking your back

Make up Marichat May, Day 12: Sleepover

Title: Good Morning
Word Count: 2,059

“Nope,” Chat Noir admits, trying to keep any disappointment from sneaking into his tone. He’d never slept over at someone’s house before. His father was far too protective to have him do something like that.  

“No? They’re fun,” Marinette says nonchalantly.

Keep reading

he held me, thinks sherlock, looking at john across the pillows in some kind of wonderment. john’s fringe is growing long again. his eyelashes lay blue-violet shadows on his cheeks. he’s been asleep now for the better part of half an hour. is that the word for it? that’s how it felt, i think. like being. protected, even though there’s no danger here. like he was gathering me up with all my pieces, keeping me together. 

does he know that’s what he did? held me, i mean. that way. 

john snuffles in his sleep, rubbing his cheek along the pillowcase almost in response. he had been fiercely respectful of sherlock’s privacy since moving back in, as though castigating himself at every near-cross of a boundary, and it had made his movements around the flat stilted and unsure, like every time he went to put a foot down, he had to first draw it back and double-check that he was allowed. you’re allowed, sherlock had told him, just that morning. whatever you’re worried about doing or not doing - you’re allowed. 

maybe, john had responded, quite easily, as if he’d been expecting sherlock to do it, but that still doesn’t mean i should. 

but then, the realisation, passing between them like an electrical current, the closed circuit of knowing flowing between them as visibly as lightning, had stopped them both where they stood. and sherlock had said, you know i want you to, then. 

yes, john had said, very, very quietly, i think so. you know why i’m hesitating, too.

sherlock had looked at him for a long minute, not deducing, not deciding. just seeing. yes. you’re afraid.

john had laughed. laughed, actually. aren’t you? 

petrified, which was true, but i think you should do it anyway, which was less true, in fact, but still worth saying. sherlock hoped he’d always say the things worth saying. he doubted he would, or that he even could, but it was a good thing to hope for, he thought. 

and so john had stepped forward. breathed. slipped one hand around the back of sherlock’s elbow, steadying him. had, so so slowly, so so softly, leaned in and brushed his mouth across sherlock’s. not a kiss - not really. that had come after. it was john, going to put a foot down and drawing back, double-checking that he was allowed. you’re allowed, sherlock had repeated, breathing against his cheek. i - i want you to. 

i - i want you to, too, john had said, more like a gasp than anything, like the strength of that admission had to be wrenched forward from somewhere he’d been keeping secret, i want you to be allowed, too. 

which had lead them here, to john’s sleepy heartbeat wearing into sherlock’s sheets and john’s hand on the coverlet, fingers curled in easy relaxation, those same fingers that had clutched and smoothed and held, and held, and held, and even though the fingers were there, now, on the coverlet instead of on sherlock’s hips and shoulders and neck and jaw and ribs and thighs and hands, there was the distinct sense of not having been let go. 

sherlock, john whispers, not opening his eyes. his fingers turn, reach, find, clasp. sherlock thinks his heart is going to burst right out of his wrist where it beats against john’s palm. you all right? 

yes, sherlock whispers back. did you know you held me?

john’s smile, lazy in the dark. sherlock wants to trace it with a fingertip. he thinks, probably, he’d be allowed to do that, if he tried, but it can wait until morning. was that okay? 

he shrugs. the covers shift. john’s thumb swipes back and forth across the smooth skin of his arm. i think so. i just. didn’t know if you knew. that that’s what that was, i think. 

it was, john confirms. the smile doesn’t fade. he tugs on sherlock’s wrist, gently, encouragingly. come here, and i’ll do it again, if you like.

sherlock inches forward, and john raises an arm to welcome him in until his head settles on john’s chest, with one arm draped over his back. he can hear the steady-slow thump of john’s heart. he can feel the smooth-shallow rise of john’s belly under his hand. i like holding you, sherlock, he says, rumbling and gruff through sleep and the saying of something that is difficult and daring to say, i’d like to keep doing it, if that’s okay. 

okay, sherlock says, and it is.

We Are Young: Chapter 5

Throne of Glass High School AU

Summary: Senior Rowan Whitethorn is new to town. It doesn’t take him long to get use to a new school, make new friends, even join the local hockey team. But it also doesn’t take him long to meet sophomore and figure skater Aelin Galathynius. And it doesn’t take him long to realize one thing; he can’t stand her.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 

——————–

Where’s my bra?

That was the only thought running through Aelin’s head as she stood there, in the middle of Rowan’s bedroom. With Rowan sitting in his bed, shirtless.

Obviously there were more important matters at hand.

An eerie silence draped over the room. Neither one of them spoke, neither one of them even knew what to say. And, if she was being honest, Aelin was half afraid that if she opened her mouth, she may actually be sick.

She tried to work around the fog that laced her memoires. She tried to think of what the hell happened last night. More importantly, how she came to be standing before Rowan in just her underwear. But she was coming up empty. Everything was a big drunken blur. The last thing she remembered was her and Fenrys kicking Dorian and Manon’s asses at beer pong - and even that was fuzzy.

Where’s my bra? And pants.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

consider this for a prompt: the team is in the lounge, post practice, just lazing around and doing nothing; the tv is on; no one is really paying attention when andrew suddenly turns rigid; deep breaths; unfocused eyes; the reporter is relaying a shocking revelation about a man abusing the foster kids in his care; hisfacehisfacehisfacetheyareshowinghisface (-i cannot tell why my mind is such an angsty bitch but here we are)

(this is a specific and excellent prompt and I’ve been anxiously awaiting its place in line <3)

He’s boneless when he climbs out of the shower, feet tender on the glossy tile, breath sitting high and tight in his chest. Neil likes pacing through his routine after practice, adrenaline relaxing its grip on him finger by finger, change-rooms echoing and empty. He strings his wet hair up in a fresh bandana and shrugs his armbands up over flushed, shower-damp forearms. He lets the practice pull at his muscles and drafts new line-ups and drills in his head.

His teammates are back in the lounge, dotting the furniture, all of their aggression leached out of them, and he feels joy rip his chest like popped stitches. Good feelings are always more brutal than bad ones, he’s come to understand. Stronger, harsher.

He gets a round of raised hands and snappy greetings when he walks in, mostly lost in the rustle of plastic bags as Wymack and Abby unload sandwiches onto an overcrowded table.

Wymack licks stray sauce off of his thumb and points at Neil with his other hand. “Come pretend you’re civilized and eat at the table. I don’t want ranch on my couches again.”

Neil shrugs and pulls a chair out at the head of the table. Matt winks up at him, and the rest of the foxes pass wrapped and pressed sandwiches down the line. They chat and rustle, Aaron snaps for serviettes until Wymack smacks his hand away, Kevin eats his sandwich with a knife and fork. Everything smells like tangy pesto and sweet fresh bread.

“Get Andrew over here, will you?” Wymack asks distractedly. Neil glances over at Andrew, installed on the couch with his back towards them. His hair has been bleaching in the sun recently, and he’s easily the brightest thing in the room.

“Andrew,” he calls, accepting his own sandwich when it’s waved in front of him, distracted from the back of Andrew’s head.

“You really put an effort in,” Nicky teases, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not moving him if he doesn’t want to be moved,” Neil replies, unconcerned. His food is warm in his hands, chicken and cranberries and cheese peeking out of brown bread and wax wrapping.

“That’s bullshit,” Matt says, mouth full. “You know you could.”

“I don’t know why you still think I have that kind of power.”

“Uhh maybe because he does impossible favours for you? And like. Kisses your face when we’re not looking? I dunno, just a thought,” Dan says sarcastically, peeling onions out of her sandwich.

“Andrew,” Neil repeats, exasperated. When he looks over again Andrew hasn’t moved, fixed and steady as always. His shoulders are moving fast though, breath coming hard enough that Neil can hear it from across the room. His stomach throbs, intuitive and scared. 

Keep reading

Imagine: Dean Rescuing You From a Spider

Originally posted by justjensenanddean

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,000

Warning: big ass spider in your bed (creepy, I know), spider bites

A/N: you’ll never guess what happened to me… anyway, cute little drabble/imagine for you guys. Hope you like it. 

Credit to @deanssweetheart23 who beta’d this and everything else I do… thanks twin <3

Keep reading

foofoocuddlypoopsgavesokkaapples  asked:

Can you do more of that mafia au? Like, the team's reaction when they learn abt it through a mind meld thing and shiro is all like "You're a Salazar?!" And it causes shit. Also, can the dad be named Ernesto? Like, I was watching a Mexican telenovela in Spanish class and there was a mafia leader named Ernesto Salazar. It's called "La Tempestad" if you wanna watch it. I hope you do, it's really good.

I still don’t know how the MafiaAU gained a lot of attention (why did this gained a lot of attention? Can someone tell me the reason? I think we all just want to see Iverson to go down.) but here is Part 2. Oh, I like it. Okay, I’ll name the Dad as ‘Ernesto’. I’ll try to watch that show when I get the chance :) .

Warnings: OOCness, AU, some grammatical errors.


After five years of fighting against a war that was on going for the past ten thousand years, Allura finally got the chance to grant the wishes of her Paladins to temporarily go back home. Sure, there were still loose ends that were supposed to be taken care of but it wouldn’t hurt to let the other planetary leaders to handle it for a while. After all, everyone agreed that team Voltron needed some well-deserved vacation.

Throughout all those five years, Allura learned a lot of stuff from her Paladins and in return she watched them grew more as a human and as a soldier. They taught her how to have fun from time to time and cherish every minute of relaxation with her second family. They taught her that she should not devote her whole life fighting, that she had people watching her back and would never judge her if she would trip and fall. They taught her that it was fine to make mistakes as long as she would learn to reflect upon those said mistakes. And most of all, they taught her to trust them indefinitely.

If there was one Paladin that confused her the most then Allura would definitely chose Lance.

The Blue Paladin initially showed himself as this person that never took things seriously unless it was a life and death situation, flirty in a point that always leave Allura exasperated (but later on she accepted it as part of Lance’s nature and she would not change it in any other way), say things that sound idiotic some of the times but a good strategist especially in abrupt situations like being trapped or ambushed by the enemies. All in all, Lance was a human that always contradicted himself from the way he let others know him. At least that how Allura had perceived it.

Lance even became the face and voice of Voltron when it comes to diplomatic situations. Sure, Allura was the Princess and Shiro was the leader of the Paladins, but they could never mirror Lance’s charisma and the way he weaved his words to gain the favour of important individuals. From these situations, Allura eventually learned that some flirting of Lance was used to make the other person to let their guard down and gain their trust. It was as if Lance was trained ever since he could speak on how to have such silver tongue.

A bit of praise in here, a bit of touch there, a little bit of a dance, a little bit of sympathy, and Voltron already gained a new ally by the end of the night. All thanks to Lance.

Shiro once tried to open the discussion about family backgrounds. Pidge and Hunk ended up crying in that session because they suddenly realized how much they missed their blood relatives. Keith tried to play it down on how he didn’t have a family to miss on Earth but he still didn’t get away from the group hug. Lance simply smiled sadly and mumbled something along the lines of ‘at least I cut off some ties…still miss my Mom’s hugs though…’. Shiro attempted to make Lance to speak more about it but the Blue Paladin remained silent for the rest of the session.

They all changed a lot in the course of five years.

Lance’s changed though was like a flip of the switch.

After that hysteric laughter that one fateful breakfast and with an added disturbing explanation, Lance started acting as if the weight of the world was finally off his shoulders. His shooting skills improved in a speed level that Allura was inclined to think that Lance was born with a gun on his hands. His hand to hand combat didn’t rely on strength alone but more in flexibility. Allura never thought that dancing could also be used as a form of combat. As days passed, Lance gave a few opinions here and there on their battle strategies that ended up with them having low casualties compared to the initial plans.

What bothers Allura the most though…was the way Lance gathered his information. He was not like Pidge that hacks in the system. No, Lance liked to do his information gathering in person. Often times it was the Blue Paladin who corners commanders of the ships they were raiding. Lance would take a lot of time but eventually he would return with more information than they have gathered from the ship’s database. The specks of bloods on his body though didn’t escape Allura, Coran, and Shiro’s attention. All of them have the same assumption that Lance used torture to get what he wanted.

It was an assumption that was never proven but could not be denied also. Allura feared that it was her fault that Lance changed so drastically, that he showed more thirst for blood like a soldier excited for a new battle, all because she pushed her Paladins in a war that they were not aware that was happening in the first place.

But all of it was better left in the back of her mind for now. Today was a day for her Paladins, a few months on Earth would do them some good. They explained to her and Coran that it was much better if the Earth’s government would still remain unaware of the existence of other life forms outside of Earth. Hunk and Pidge told her that humans might be in par with the Galra when it comes to experimenting the unknown. Most humans would rather treat aliens like mindless animals than creatures with feelings. Shiro suggested to them that it was better to leave the Castle of Lions outside of Earth’s radar, meaning they needed to stop out of the Milky Way Galaxy, and just use the pods to get near to their home planet.

Surprisingly, it was Lance who suggested a safe place to land. They left the Castle in the hands of a few friends they managed to have through the years of fighting the Galra empire and set course for the coordinates that Lance gave to them.


Hunk was so excited to finally meet Lance’s family…wait, that could probably be said a bit better but that was what he still meant. Hunk never had the opportunity to visit Lance’s home and family even if they had been friends for years. It was always Lance who visited Hunk during vacations and holidays and never the other way around. So for Lance to suggest a place to land and when he realized that it was the beloved beach that the Blue Paladin always talked about with his best friend, Hunk could not contain his excitement. 

“We’re here!!!” Hunk heard the enthusiastic scream coming from Lance and chuckled himself when Shiro shouted words of caution to their Blue Paladin, which was went unheard due to the happy cheers.

One by one they all followed Lance and soon reached the only building found in the area, at least the area that could only be reached by their eyes.

Through all the years they had traveled in outer space, Hunk saw a lot of vacation houses. He saw a lot and it was enough to say that the one if front of them could be classified as one. The house itself might be 250 square meters, excluding the garden part, it has three floors with a rooftop and balcony. The color scheme was a mix between shades of blue and streaks of white, ocean waves and Earth sea creatures adorned the walls while tropical flowers was engraved in the pillars and glass windows.

Long story short, it was like a vacation house owned by a very rich family.

“¡Bienvenido a mi casa!” Lance said with outstretched arms to emphasize the house behind him, “Well…at least for now. This is not the main house after all. But make yourself at home to my vacation house! Tomorrow we will take a plane to Italy and meet my whole family!” he was about to run away again but Hunk held him firm this time before leaving them behind.

“Wait, Lance, buddy, my friend, what do you mean by ‘going to Italy and meet my whole family’ thing?”

“Also, did you just said that this is your vacation house?! Are you some kind of rich kid here on Earth?!” Pidge was clutching her hair, that has grown past her shoulders, as if it could help her making sense of the information she had just been given.

“Um…oops?”

“Oops? Oops?! That’s all you can say?! Why you—!”

“Relax, Pidgeon!” Lance put his hands in surrender, “Let’s take a rest for now! I’ll answer your questions tomorrow once we got to that main house!”

Pidge was still steaming with mix emotions but decided to let it go with an angry huffed. Lance might be the most talkative human she had ever met but he rarely pull out personal information like family backgrounds.

“Okay now? Follow me!”

As they were walking towards the entrance, Keith asked an important question, “How are you so sure that this place still belongs to you? I mean, it’s been five years, right?”

Lance looked back at the group with a playful smile on his face.

“I just know it. Besides, this place was a gift for me by the Decimo himself.”

Decimo?

That was the question that revolved around everyone’s mind. Allura and Coran was just confused by the baffled expression of the rest of the Paladins towards Lance so they opted to stay quiet. This was not their planet after all. They still don’t know the majority of human customs due to its diversities.

Before Lance could knock, the door suddenly opened and they were greeted by a scene that they thought could only be found by exaggerated movies. For before them, four maids to the right and four butlers to the left were lined in a row. Judging from the posture of the man and woman who opened the door it was safe to assume that they were the heads.

What caught Shiro’s attention though was the banner that was proudly displayed on the wall directly on the path of the entrance. It had the symbol of a beautiful mermaid with her tail wrapped around a bullet and the sides were designed with twin towers. It was a very familiar insignia for Shiro and he was sure he had seen it during his years in Japan.

Everything clicked in though when the maids and butlers spoke simultaneously.

“Welcome back, Young Master Lance Salazar.”

Shiro looked at Lance like he had just seen him for the very first time. The others just felt their jaws dropped at the sudden revelation.

“You’re a Salazar?! As in that Salazar?! Salazar Familia?!”

This time, Lance gave them a mischievous smirk that was clearly up to no good.

“Oops.” There was no remorse or guilt laced tone when Lance said that.


Part 3? Anyone wants a Part 3?

Langst Mini fic

Previous / Next