basement bathroom

6

Michael: …Those were the worst few months of my life. I never want to go through that again.

The Zodiac Signs as Places of a House

Aries: Kitchen

Taurus: Garden

Gemini: Library

Cancer: Closet

Leo: Front yard

Virgo: Office

Libra: Entrance

Scorpio: Bedroom

Sagittarius: Living Room

Capricorn: Basement

Aquarius: Attic

Pisces: Bathroom

breathe. the school year is almost over. you can do this. take some time to study and do homework but also take some time for yourself. take study breaks by going for a walk. walk in nature without your phone and appreciate what mother nature has given us. don’t work yourself up too much or you’ll stress and feel less confident in yourself. if you feel like you’re stressing then find a new place to study. whether it’s in the bathroom, the basement, outside, etc. find a place that really works for you and study your little butt off. however, always remember that you can take mental breaks if you need them. you’re gonna do great and i am proud of you no matter what.

You can tell a lot about a person based on their living space

Describe your muse’s…

🏠- House
⛰- Front/backyard
🌹- Garden
🚙- Car
📺- Living room/lounge
🔪- Kitchen
🕳- Basement
🛁- Bathroom(s)
🛏- Bedroom(s)
👕- Closet
🛌- Bedding
📥- Nightstand
📦- Desk
🗑- Trashcan
🎐- items/knick knacks they collected
🎀- Jewelry or accessories they have
🐻- Toys or stuffed animals (theirs or not)
🖼- Framed photos
⚱️- Homely decorations
💆- Their hairbrush
📖- Their diary
📔- Their notes/records
🗓- Their calendar
🕰- Their clock
👝- The contents of their purse/backpack/bag
🛠- The contents of their toolbox
🕯- The contents of their emergency supply kit
🍎- The kind of food they store in the kitchen
🔨- Their garage
❓- Any secret rooms they have

Michael in the Basement

((Since everyone is asking, yes, I did make a full version of the Michael in the Basement parody, and you all wanted to see it so here it is!!
You can totally cover the song/use it for whatever as long as you credit this blog or my art blog, shima-draws!

And now let’s begin with the angst, shall we? Full thing is under the cut!))


I am hanging in the Basement at the biggest party of the fall
I could stay right here or disappear and he wouldn’t even notice at all

I’m a loser in the Basement ‘cause my buddy kinda left me alone
But I’d rather fake smile than watch for a while as he dances with a girl in the zone
Everything felt fine when we were all by ourselves
And through no fault of mine, he left for someone else

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Capone

Request: You had a similar situation to buckys torture and are rescued by shield. He’s determined to break through your emotionless, sassy shell and to help you in recovery. After a couple failed attempts He finds out you have a soft spot for puppy’s and surprises you with a rescue dog. Which in turn has her confronting him on what this is all about and feelings spill out like a brand new water park. -Anon

Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 2237 (ha! Whoops..)

Warnings: Mentions of torture..

A/N: I hope this is alright! It feels kind of like a hot mess, but I didn’t want it to run on too long! Also the dog mentioned is from the hbspca, so if you’re in southern ontario and need a friend :) And yeah, one little part was inspired by Love, Actually. Feedback would be lovely xo

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1. The first time I kissed you, it was barely a peck. You made me nervous but in a good way like no one had before. You laughed and told me it was cute.
2. I tried to sleep over at your house but your mom caught us at 2am and sent me home. She never liked me much after that.
3. The waiteress at Olive Garden shot us snobby looks when we both only ordered chicken gnocchi and water.
4. We drove around town blaring an old Drake album and belted our hearts to the second verse of track two. We must have played it a thousand times.
5. I went down on you for the first time in the basement bathroom with our friends in the next room.
6. You left town for two days and I swear I have never missed a person so much. I could feel it in my bones.
7. You snuck out your bedroom window to meet me in the jeep. We parked and I should’ve been scared of getting caught but you always had a strange way of calming me.
8. You started spending so much time at my house we had to buy groceries for you.
9. We skipped class to have sex and when we came back I swear everyone saw it on our faces. You got me my first detention that day, but it was worth it.
10. We went to a water park and you screamed like a little kid on all the slides. I had to hold your hand.
11. We took a three day trip and shared a hotel bed with dingy white sheets. I fell in love with you there in that poorly lit room.
—  11 things we did when we were 18
@needumost

kekerockinrobin  asked:

Can I request a smut based off song Who Do You Love by Mariana's Trench where you & yoongi starts off as enemies for some reason when he's really in love with you & one day you two are left along for the day & you have a fight leading to sexy time

This was quite interesting to write since I’ve never written something with this type of plot line, so I hope you enjoy!~
- Devi ^_-

[WARNING: Explicit Content]

who do you love? {smut/angst}

Word Count: 3741


At some point in our lives, we all come across at least one person whom we cannot stand, and for what reason? That’s what’s unknown. See, our instincts are more capable than our minds seem to let us believe, and sometimes said instincts just KNOW when there’s something about someone that’s offputting even if your mind cannot rationalize it. Some people just make us angry simply for existing, without really transgressing against us. There was one in your life too. His name was Min Yoongi. 

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Guess You’re Stuck with Me, Kleinman (Jared Kleinman x Reader)

Guess You’re Stuck with Me, Kleinman (Jared Kleinman x Reader)

Notes: Here’s a (longer than expected) fic featuring poor sick Jared Kleinman, angsty Connor Murphy, and irritated/confused reader! I started this thinking it would be a very short little fic with lots of cuddling. And then Connor appeared, and this turned into a very long fic. It’s really different from what I was expecting, sooo hopefully it’s good, idk. This would basically take place the summer Zoe graduates high school. (And this would be an AU where Connor lives.) Anyway. This is basically just utter fluff with a sprinkle of angst.

Warnings: Some swearing…brief mention of Connor smoking.

Words: 4908

While most teenagers would probably throw a party when their parents went out of town, Jared Kleinman is not that kind of person, and you’re glad. Most girls might think it was stupid, but spending the night watching your boyfriend play videogames and snuggling with him on his beanbag chair is amazing. So amazing, in fact, that you end up falling asleep curled up next to him.

When a noise startles you awake, you blink at the shadows around you, your brain sluggishly working to figure out where you are. Beneath you, the lumps of a couch press into your back and make it ache in random places. The blanket on top of you smells like popcorn and cologne, the scent familiar and comforting even in the sleepy dimness. But it’s the sound of Jared attempting to stifle an explosive sneeze that finally makes it click in your brain that you’re in his basement.

There’s a lamp beside the couch, and you fumble for a second to flick it on. The sudden light stings your eyes, and you have to blink for a moment before you can see Jared sitting on his beanbag chair, right where the two of you were when you fell asleep. Without any windows down here, it’s impossible to tell what time it is, but apparently you’ve been asleep long enough that he felt it necessary to move you to the couch.

The sound of another violent sneeze jerks you from your thoughts as Jared unsuccessfully tries to muffle the noise in his shirt sleeve.

“Hey,” you murmur, your voice cracking a little like it always does when you first wake up. “Are you okay?”

Jared twists to look over his shoulder at you; he’s not wearing his glasses and has to squint at you. “Yeah,” he says, his voice thick and breath coming in wobbly little puffs. “Sorry I woke you up. It’s just—it’s allergies or something.”

He sneezes again, and even in the dimness you notice the unnatural pink bleeding through his cheeks.

“You look like you have a fever,” you say. “Are you sure you feel okay?”

He rubs a hand across his nose and nods. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I think there’s mold down here or something. I don’t know.” His eyes water as his breath begins to hitch again, and he buries his face in his beanbag chair. Shivers dance through his shoulders, and he groans a little.

“Babe, I don’t think it’s mold.” You push the blankets off and sit up on the edge of the couch. Your shoulders ache from what was probably hours of lying on the couch; you should probably text your parents in case you did in fact spend the entire night here. The sooner you let them know everything’s okay, the less likely they are to freak out over the fact that you didn’t come home last night.

You move toward Jared and cup a hand on his neck. Despite the way he’s shivering, his skin is hot and sticky beneath yours. “J, you’ve got a fever,” you murmur.

He groans into the beanbag again. “Shit.”

“Let me go grab a thermometer,” you say. “Stay here, okay?”

He turns a little to look at you with bleary eyes and nods. He looks so pathetic you kiss his tousled hair before leaving him on the beanbag chair.

You go to the basement bathroom and dig through the medicine cabinet. A toothbrush and about six half-used toothpaste tubes litter the shelves, along with bottles of ibuprofen and Benadryl and a thermometer. There are washcloths in the tiny linen closet, so you take one and run it under cold water. You can hear Jared coughing as you wring it out and grab the bottle of ibuprofen and thermometer.

You hurry back to him with the supplies. He’s sitting up in the beanbag chair with his glasses on, his arms wrapped around his torso as he shivers. You set everything down but the thermometer and hold it toward him. “You should take your temperature.”

He does as you say, sticking the thermometer under his tongue and sniffling a little.

You check the coffee table by the couch for your phone as you begin gathering your blankets, but it’s nowhere in sight. “What time is it?” you ask.

“Theven,” Jared lisps around the thermometer. Before you can begin to freak out over how nervous your parents must be, he holds up a hand. “I texted your parenth lath night. They’re cool.”

“Oh.” The tension you didn’t realize had formed in your chest eases, and you smile a little. “Thanks.”

“Mm-hmm.” The thermometer goes off, and Jared fumbles it out of his mouth. He squints at it and says, “It’s only 101. You can chill.”

“I’m just making sure you’re okay. Also, 101 is still high enough for me to be reasonably concerned.” You take the thermometer from him and set it on the coffee table, then begin tucking a blanket around him. “You need to take some ibuprofen. Do you have water?”

“Yeah.” He nods his head toward a half-empty water bottle lying on the floor, then peers up at you. The tip of his nose is already turning red, and that along with his messy hair makes him look younger than he is. “I’m okay, Y/N. I mean, I could be better, but you should probably go home so you don’t catch whatever this is.”

You spread another blanket over him but leave the third one on the floor; even if he’s cold, smothering him in blankets probably isn’t great for his fever. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t want to make you sick.” He glances at your hands as they tuck the blanket closer to his chin. “I’ll be fine. Seriously, it’s not a big—”

“Shhh.” You drape the wet wash cloth across his forehead, and he flinches a little at the chilliness. Your hand finds its way to his hair, and you brush your fingers through it gently. “Quit acting tough and let me take care of you.”

Jared sighs weakly but leans into you hand.

You kneel beside the beanbag chair and continue petting his hair for a moment; his eyes are shut, and despite the way he’s shivering and sniffling, he looks somewhat relaxed at your touch. He looks vulnerable in a way you rarely see, and it makes your voice go softer when you ask, “What time will your parents be home?”

He shrugs without opening his eyes. “Sometime tonight. I think their flight’s at seven-thirty.”

You rise up on your knees enough to peck the top of his head with a kiss. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me till then, Kleinman.”

***

Jared snores quietly, his head in your lap. The two of you are on the couch now instead of the beanbag chair, and you’ve been watching Parks and Recreation all morning. By now it has to be past noon, but you aren’t sure where Jared left your phone last night after he texted your parents and you don’t want to wake him up to ask.

You survey the mess on the coffee table. You found a fresh t-shirt and boxers upstairs in Jared’s room and had him change into them, so his sweaty clothes from last night are balled up beside the bottle of ibuprofen. A glass of water whose ice has almost completely melted forms a puddle on the table. Jared’s washcloth sits in a soggy pile next to a couple dozen wadded up pieces of toilet paper—you discovered earlier that apparently the Kleinmans don’t have any tissues. In fact, they don’t have much of anything—Jared sounded like he was trying to hack up a lung all morning, and all you could do was give him peppermints from your purse to suck on because there was no cough syrup anywhere in the house.

You sigh and slowly shift Jared’s head off your lap. His phone is plugged in next to the TV, and you take it back to the couch and settle into your spot again, although you let Jared rest with his head on a pillow. Jared told you his password one time a while ago when you were trying to find music to play in the car, and so you unlock his phone and pull up the messaging app. Evan is at his summer job at a national park, so he probably doesn’t have good cell service. Alana is on vacation with her family in DC, and Zoe is touring colleges all weekend with her dad. Which leaves you with one option.

With another sigh, this one slightly more aggravated, you bring up Connor Murphy’s contact and send him a text. This is Y/N. Jared’s sick. Can you bring tissues and cough syrup?

The little bubble showing Connor is typing appears almost immediately, but with every second that passes without a response, you grow more impatient. It isn’t that you don’t like Connor, exactly. It’s just that for whatever reason, there’s always been some kind of unspoken rule that the two of you can never agree on anything. No matter how many times you hang out with Zoe, you can never get through a conversation without either him or you wanting to rip the other person’s head off.

Jared coughs in his sleep, and you reach out with your free hand and stroke his hair. Warmth radiates off him; his fever might not be that high, but the heat coming from him still makes your stomach feel a little uneasy. You kiss his forehead for what feels like the hundredth time today; you know he can’t feel it in his sleep, but you don’t know what else to do.

His phone pings with a message from Connor. The moment you read it, you roll your eyes.

be there in twenty. getting nyquil…one dose of that and he’ll be high af.

***

You made sure the door was unlocked earlier when Connor said he would be coming, so when he finally shows up he lets himself in, yelling your name to announce his presence.

“Connor!” you hiss. “Shut up! Jared’s asleep!”

“No, I’m not,” Jared mutters, his face smooshed against a pillow. Luckily you took his glasses off and set them on the table when he first fell asleep this morning. He inhales stuffily through his nose before twisting onto his back and blinking up at you. “Is that Murphy?”

“Yeah. Stay here.” You stand and move to the base of the stairs. “Connor,” you call. “We’re down here.”

You’re back on the couch with Jared by the time Connor’s footsteps thump down the stairs. He slinks toward the two of you, his usual black hoodie draped around his skinny frame despite it being the middle of July and several Publix bags clutched in his hands. He raises an eyebrow at Jared. “Well, Kleinman,” he says, “you look like shit.”

“Really hot shit,” Jared says, his voice rasping. He pushes himself up so he’s sitting, grunting a little, and he blinks tired eyes at Connor. “How come you’re here?”

Connor shrugs deeper into his hoodie and jerks his head toward you. “Y/N made me come.”

“I did not!” you exclaim, and Jared winces a little at the volume of your voice. “I just asked for you to bring some stuff. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

The shadow of a smirk appears on Connor’s face, the same one he’s always aiming at you when he’s managed to irritate you yet again.

You hate that smirk more than anything, and you’re pretty sure he knows it.

Jared fumbles for his glasses and barely manages to get them on without poking himself in the eye. He lets out a wheezy cough and nods toward the bags in Connor’s hands. “What’s in those?”

“Drugs.”

You roll your eyes. “Knock it off.”

“Take a joke,” Connor replies. He swings two of the bags onto the table, barely avoiding knocking over Jared’s glass of water. “I bought a shit ton of tissues and Nyquil. And,” he adds, looking at you, “just to make sure you know, I was mostly kidding when I said it would make him high.”

You scowl at him.

“Also,” Connor says, ignoring you as he holds up the third bag, “Mom made me bring soup and shit.”

“Sounds appetizing,” Jared says.

“That was nice of her,” you say. Connor may drive you up the wall, but when you’ve hung out with Zoe, Cynthia Murphy has always been sweet. “She didn’t have to make that.”

Connor brushes off your gratitude with a shrug. “It was in the freezer.”

You resist the urge to growl at him.

Jared gives you a funny look before focusing on Connor. “If you’re not busy, wanna hang here and watch me beat Y/N’s ass at Mario Kart? I mean, since you’re here and she’s making me lay around all day anyway.”

“Hey, I let you fall asleep on my lap earlier,” you say. “And you drooled.”

Jared’s already flushed face goes even pinker, although the scowl he aims at you quickly dissolves into a sneeze.

“I would rather not catch the plague, so no.” Connor crosses his arms, the bag with soup clutched in one fist. “Plus Mom wants me home to help her cook or whatever before Zoe gets home tonight. We’re having some fancy dinner or something. I don’t even know.”

“Is she excited about college?” you ask. Irritation still flickers within your chest, but you press on anyway. No matter how much Connor shuts you out, you’ll never stop trying to get through to him, even if it’s just out of sheer stubborness. “She texted me pictures yesterday and looked really happy.”

Connor wrinkles his brow at you. “How the fuck should I know?”

You groan. “Forget it.”

“Oooookay,” Jared says, dragging out the word. He massages his temple with a fist, his eyes closing momentarily. “Save the fighting for another time. I can’t play referee today.”

Connor snorts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Kleinman.” He drops the bag with the soup on the table. “I’m leaving anyway. Mom’ll freak if I’m not home in the next fifteen minutes.”

Jared raises his eyebrows. “Wow, Connor Murphy giving a crap about what his parents want. Miracles do happen.”

Connor’s face darkens. “They caught me smoking yesterday, so I’m not sure I’d call it a miracle.”

A little twinge breaks through the frustration within you. You didn’t know Connor last year, but from what Jared and Zoe have told you, he’s gone through a lot since then—a lot of good things, like working with a therapist and quitting smoking pot. But of course, recovery is never an easy, straight road.

The tiniest crease appears between Jared’s eyebrows, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it came, and he just nods. “Ahh. Got it.” He opens his mouth like he’s going to add something but his breath catches and he starts coughing, clutching his blanket close to his chest and the force of it making him wince. The noise sends a pulse of anxiety through you; it’s probably nothing to worry about, but the sound is distinctly painful, like you can hear the coughing actually ripping at his lungs.

When you notice Connor looking at Jared, there’s something akin to sadness in his eyes. But then his gaze flicks to you, and the typical coldness returns. “Text me if you need anything else,” he says to Jared. “It’ll give me an excuse to get out of dinner.”

Jared drags in a wobbly breath, his eyes watery. “Sure,” he pants.

“Thanks for all this,” you say, gesturing at the bags of tissues and soup and medicine.

Connor crosses his arms and lifts his shoulders in a small shrug. “Just doing my part to keep Kleinman from dying.”

“I’m cool,” Jared says, and heaves out one last cough. “Not dying.”

Connor just shrugs again, flips his hand in a small wave, and slinks up the stairs.

You hear the dull thump of his footsteps overhead, then the creak of the front door as he slips out.

Inside your chest is a swirl of irritation and frustration and maybe even a little sadness over the complicated boy that is Connor Murphy, and you try to let it all out in a sigh. It doesn’t really matter. Sure, it would be nice if he got along with you better, but it’s not a big deal if he doesn’t.

Yet, like an itch you can’t scratch, it still nags at you.

You’re going to say something to Jared about it, but then he begins coughing again, his whole body shaking and face burning red. Anxiety blooms within you as you watch him double over, the sound as awful ever. You rub his back until the fit stops, and by then he’s shivering and slumped against you, his eyes half closed. You can feel the heat from his cheek on your shoulder. It seems warmer than earlier.

“How are you feeling?” you murmur. “I think you might be getting a little worse.”

“Probably.” Jared breathes out a shuddery sigh. “My head’s not doing so great.”

You run your fingers through his hair and wince at the heat of his fever. “Poor boy.”

He lifts his head to give you a look, although it’s dulled by the exhaustion coloring his bloodshot eyes.

You slip off the couch and begin to arrange several of his pillows in a little pile. “Do you feel like eating?”

He leans his head against the back of the couch and gives it the slightest shake.

“You should eventually.” You pat the pillows. “Come lay down. I’ll get you fresh water and you can take your medicine and sleep.”

He cracks open his eyelids to give you another look. “Only if you play Mario Kart when I wake up.”

“Only if you admit I’ll beat your ass at it.”

He blows a weak raspberry as he lowers himself down and snuggles into the pillows. “Keep dreaming, Y/L/N.”

You drape several blankets over him and then head upstairs to get him fresh water and maybe another wet washcloth from the bathroom up there. Every time you hear him start coughing, something inside you aches. Jared has always been the one who’s been there for you, the one who’s been happy and strong and ready to do anything to make sure you were happy, too, and the thought of him being in pain makes you want to cry.

When you return to the basement, Jared’s eyes are closed. The soft thud of you setting down his glass of water makes him open his eyes the tiniest bit. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too.” You lower the washcloth onto his forehead, slowly so maybe the cold will be less shocking. He still grimaces.

“Sorry about all this,” he says. “I know I’m, like, kind of disgusting.”

“I thought you told Connor you were hot.”

“I was obviously delirious.”

“Obviously.”

A chill rattles his shoulders, and he pulls the blankets closer to his chin. “Anyway. Sorry you have to deal with this.”

“Don’t apologize, you goof.” You kneel beside him and brush you fingers through his hair. “I just told you I love you, remember?”

He’s still shivering, but a tiny smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “You’re kind of the best, loser.”

You kiss the space between his eyebrows, and he nuzzles his face into your neck for a moment before relaxing back onto the pillows again.

You give him more ibuprofen and then a dose of cough syrup. Chills continue rattling his body while you wait for the medicine to work, so you crawl onto the couch and snuggle close to him, wedging yourself in between the back of the couch and his body. The two of you hold each other close until his sniffling turns into soft snores.

When you move, you’re careful to go slowly so you don’t wake him. The bags Connor brought still rest on the table, so you sit crisscross on the floor and sort through them. As promised, the bag from his house has an enormous container with enough soup to last Jared several days, and there’s a sticky note in Mrs. Murphy’s handwriting saying feel better, Jared!!

You set the soup to the side to take upstairs, then begin sorting through the other bags. At first it just looks like they’re filled with a half a dozen boxes of tissues and an extra bottle of Nyquil, but when you get to the bottom of the second bag, you find a bag of honey-flavored cough drops and a small box of herbal tea.

You hold the tea box in your hand, your forehead wrinkling as you stare at it. Even with it still shut, a faint smell leaks out. It isn’t pungent like you’d expect with most herbal teas; it smells like peppermint with a hint of something earthy. Comforting, in a way. As you inhale the scent, you can feel the leftover tension in your chest beginning to melt away.

Connor Murphy is an enigma.

***

“Hey, loser,” a tired voice croaks.

You blink and find Jared’s face only a few inches from yours. It takes a moment for you to orient yourself—you take in the blankets tangled around you, the sticky sweat on your legs, and Jared staring across the pillow at you.

“You fell asleep on the job,” he whispers.

“Because taking care of you is so much work.” You reach up and brush your thumb over his cheek. It’s still stained with a permanent blush, but his skin feels a little less fiery beneath yours. “How do you feel?”

His shoulder shrugs beneath the blanket. “Better than earlier.”

“Good.” You tilt your head forward just the tiniest bit to kiss his forehead, and a sleepy smile blossoms on his face. “How about you eat something?”

“In a minute.” Jared buries his face in your neck; you can hear his breath rasping softly, but at least he isn’t coughing like he was earlier. “I’m comfy,” he murmurs.

You wrap your arms around him and hug him closer, your legs tangling with his beneath the blankets. The two of you are pressed together like puzzle pieces, and it’s so wonderful you don’t argue with him.

“Me, too,” you tell him.

***

You can’t see it in the basement, but according to the time on your phone the sun is just beginning to set. Jared is propped up next to you on the couch, eating soup while the two of you watch what feels like the hundredth episode of Parks and Recreation for the day (not that either of you mind). The bag of cough drops Connor brought sits on the table, and a Legend of Zelda mug steams beside it, the sweet scent of the tea filling the basement.

You tuck your feet up on the couch and lean against Jared’s shoulder, your phone in your hand. You’ve been texting your parents on and off since you got up from your nap with Jared earlier. Thankfully Jared had been right; your parents weren’t mad, just a little concerned that you weren’t home yet. You let them know Jared was sick and you were taking care of him until his parents got home. Your mom offered to bring food, but considering the amount of soup Mrs. Murphy sent, you told her it wasn’t really necessary.

Zoe has also sent you a few text messages. She’s home from touring colleges and told you she had a blast but that it’s all really stressful and a lot to think about. You told her you wanted to hear all about it and that you were glad she had fun. And you asked her to tell Connor thanks for bringing everything over today.

Jared leans forward to set his soup on the table and snuggles up against you. His hair is slightly damp; he took a shower late this afternoon, and now the soft smell of body wash and the detergent his mom uses clings to his skin.

“When do I get my Mario Kart game?” he asks, his voice rough. Considering how hoarse it’s gotten today, you’re guessing it will be gone by tomorrow.

“Soon.” You kiss the spot right below his ear; you’re so happy to see him feeling better enough to do more than just sleep, you just want to snuggle with him. You tuck your face against his neck and murmur into his skin, “You smell good.”

“Like manliness and war. Or that’s what the bottle said it would smell like, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

Jared pulls away from you to motion at his Star Wars pajama shirt, the blankets the two of you are huddled under, and the mess of tissues and medicine scattered across the table and couch. “This doesn’t look manly to you?”

“Well, it does look like someone fought a war here and left the mess behind.” You wave your hand at it. “Just so you know, I’m not planning on cleaning all this up by myself.”

“Yeah, make your sick boyfriend do all the work.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I get it, I get it …”

You flick his ear lightly, and a soft laugh rumbles in his chest.

His phone buzzes on the table, and you lean forward to grab it and hand it to him. He squints at the screen and frowns. “Mom and Dad’s flight got cancelled. They won’t be able to get home until tomorrow.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me until then.”

He gives you a look. “You don’t have to stay, Y/N. I’m not dying, remember?”

“But you probably would be if I wasn’t here.” You adjust the blanket so your toes peek out. “I’ll just stay in case you need anything.”

He fiddles with the corner of his phone’s case. “You don’t have to.”

“Jared. I’ve already told you. I don’t mind. I love you.”

“I know, but—”

You shut him up with a soft kiss on his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur.

He watches your lips with hazy eyes for a moment before whispering, “Not to ruin the moment, but you really shouldn’t be kissing me right now.”

“Too late,” you say. “I mean, I’ve been curled up with you almost all day, so I think we’re past worrying about me catching this from you.”

He kisses your cheek in apparent agreement. “I’ll make sure to keep you from dying if you get it.”

“I’ll be happy if you just come over and cuddle with me.”

“I can do that.” He cradles his phone in his lap and begins typing a text. “I’ll let my parents know you’re staying, but only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” You unlock your phone and write a text to your parents to make sure it’s okay with them if you spend the night here. “Would you mind if Zoe stopped by with some fresh clothes and my toothbrush and stuff?” you ask Jared.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Maybe I should text Evan to come, too. He’s probably bored.”

Jared makes a face. “Why would you have Evan come if Zoe’s just bringing clothes?”

“Because we could all hang out and watch something stupid.”

Jared groans a little. “They won’t want to be around my gross ass right now. Plus Evan will make me watch his stupid nature documentaries.”

“You liked the last one about the ocean.” Your phone vibrates with a text from your mom letting you know it’s fine for you to spend the night and to text her if you need anything. You tap the screen and switch to your conversation with Zoe. “They could just hang out for an hour or two. It would give us all something to do. And maybe I’ll invite Connor, too.”

“Absolutely not,” Jared says, shaking his head. “I will actually die if you guys start arguing.”

You think of the tea and the cough drops and the way Connor looked sadly at Jared before he left. “We won’t argue.”

Jared gives you a look. “All you do is argue with him, Y/N.”

“Well, maybe I’d like to change that.”

He gives a raspy laugh. “We’d all like you to change that.”

“I know.” You let out a soft sigh. “I don’t mean to be obnoxious with him. He just … I don’t know, I want to like him, but he makes it nearly impossible sometimes.”

Jared laughs again. It sputters away into a cough, but there’s still a soft smile on his face. “That would be Connor Murphy for you.” He pokes your cheek. “You take him, like, way too seriously. He’ll quit being a dick if you quit getting so mad about it.”

“Okay, well, I’ll invite him and give it a shot.”

“Okay,” Jared says. “But if you guys start fighting, I’m kicking everyone out. And that includes you.”

“Nope.” You slip your hand into his, your fingers curling around his. “I’ll go upstairs, but I’m not leaving. You’re stuck with me, Kleinman.”

“I guess so,” he sighs. He snuggles closer to you beneath the blanket and lets his head rest on your shoulder, his eyes closed and the little smile still on his face. “But that’s not such a bad thing.”

Cheryl x Reader: The Fire Within

Warnings: mental illness, talks of rape and suicide, swearing
Requested: yes
A/N: if this is super deep, i’m sorry. I used it to help me vent.

*your POV*

You know what? Fuck you.

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Thief - AU

So first of all i would like to share one thing with you guys. Recently i broke up with my best friend. This is just a rough patch, i know but this isn’t the first time i’m going through a situation like this.In past also i’ve been ditched by my friends. SO I just wanted to say that if you have a best friend then please cherish them and show them how much you love them. Its okay if you have nothing but if you have a best friend have everything.

 This imagine is inspired by the latest song ‘Thief’ by Ansel Elgort with a little pinch of smut;). And i’ve decided to update the series only on weekends. It’s not much long but still. Hope you guys enjoy it. Feedbacks are appreciated.

Call me a thief
There’s been a robbery
I left with her heart
Tore it apart
Made no apologies

 I’ve been living in the darkness

Shadows in my apartment, heartless
Taking love just to spill it on parchment
Next page and I’m out again
I’ve been living in the night life
Lips hit you like a drive by, frost bite
Ice cold, I mean they cut you like a sharp knife
Next page and I’m out again

Skin on my skin, what a wonderful sin
Take your breath but you’re asking for more
The tip of my finger is tracing your figure
I say good night and walk out the door

Call me a thief
There’s been a robbery
I left with her heart
Tore it apart
Made no apologies
Just call me a thief
She was on top of me
Then I left with her heart
Broken and scarred
Made no apologies

We can be so hollow
Like my rib cage, the echoes follow
Follow me like the fears I swallow
And drown in all my mistakes
All I know is that your skin bled
Like the ink dripped from my pen
My bed will be drenched in a scarlet rose red
And drown in all my mistakes

Skin on my skin, what a wonderful sin
Take your breath but you’re asking for more
The tip of my finger is tracing your figure
I say good night and walk out the door

Call me a thief
There’s been a robbery
I left with her heart
Tore it apart
Made no apologies
Just call me a thief
She was on top of me
Then I left with her heart
Broken and scarred
Made no apologies

Girl you better just lock me up
Because I’ve never been good enough
So you better just lock me up, lock me up
Girl you better just lock me up
Because I’ve never been good enough
So you better just lock me up, lock me up

The tip of my finger is tracing your figure
I say good night and walk out the door

Call me a thief
There’s been a robbery
I left with her heart
Tore it apart
Made no apologies
Just call me a thief
She was on top of me
Then I left with her heart
Broken and scarred
Made no apologies

Girl you better just lock me up
Because I’ve never been good enough
So you better just lock me up, lock me up
Girl you better just lock me up
Because I’ve never been good enough
So you better just lock me up, lock me up

Harry’s POV

I traced the beautiful figure of her with the tips of my fingers. Smooth and mouth watering. Her creamy and gentle, skin dragged me to her. I’ve been tracking her since last 2 week. I first saw her in the club. She danced with a blonde who was her friend i suppose. She swayed her hips with the beat. Her sleek figure was enough to make me her my next target. My body ached to touch hers since that day. And finally I caught her. Saying a word or so of love was plenty enough to hypnotize her for me.

Her chestnut hair colour was perfect. Her natural tanned skintone was perfect. Her long fingers were perfect. she was bonnie. Perfect for me.

“hmm Stop looking at me like that.” she said stretching out her perfect body. 

“you’re so perfect” I said brushing some hair outta her face. She pulled my hand to her lips kissing each of my fingertip. Her soft, raspberry lips were driving me mad.

“So soft” i moaned leaning down to capture her soft rosy lips while mine. the way her breath mixed with mine smoke one caused me the bliss i craved for. I slowly hovered her while kissing her. Her naked breast pressed tightly against mine. Sex was my addiction but in the present momets she seemed to replace it. 

“Harry….I’m so wet for yeh” She whined. I lovedwhen girls whined. Their moans and whines is what i live for. I smirked as I trailed kisses down the base of her neck. Covering the last night marks with new one. Her nipples were hard like small pebbles. I swirled my tongue around one, sucking with a pop sound while kneading the other. I wore all these big rings on purpose. I loved when the cold metal of them hits the warm skin of girls causing them to hiss.

She grabbed my hair and tugged on it way to forcefully. I liked it. She arched her back when i slapped her fold with my hand to shush her down. Insteaqd of shuting up she opened her legs. The aroma filling the atomsphere. I took in a deep breath as the fragrance of her filled up my nostrils arousing me. I wasted no time throwing her legs over my shoulder and licked long up her folds. 

“Of fuck” she gasped pushing my face further into her core. I nudged my nose opening her folds inhaling deep her aroma. My sexual desire were at the peak. I rolled her clit with my index finger as slided my tongue deep in her vaginal hole. she tasted like sweet witha bit of salt. Her taste was heavenly. I could eat her all day.

“So wet huh doll? Ready to be fucked? Aren’t yeh my little slut?” i asked rubbing her and licking up her juices as she grunted. She squeezed her legs making my stubble cheep to pree deeper in her soft inner thighs. That was enough. I needed to fuck her. I got on my knees as i wrapped her legs around my waist to keep her steady. Bringing my hard throbbing cock to  her cunt, I rubbed it a few times on her entrance before going in deep.

—-

There she laid, hair sprawled out on over the pillow, snoring softly. After having a major orgasm she couldn’t help but falling asleep. I got up from the bed before wearing my clothes. Same black high neck sweater with black pants and brown jacket. I loved black color. 

I looked at her the last time before making an exist from her front gate. No doubt she was beauty but I just got bored of her. This was what my passion was. Making a home in girl’s heart then leaving with it and breaking in million pieces. I loved doing that. And I’d continue to do that. 

I’m a thief. And hearts is what I theft.

—- Y/n’s POV

I groaned rubbing my eyes as I scrunches them trying to adjust to the bright sunlight falling on my face. I smiled to self recalling the moments happens the night before. Harry was such a handsome and lovely person that I couldn’t handle myself to stop liking him. And after three days of seeing each other we finally made a move.

I turned around to face Harry but he wasn’t there. I sat up thinking he probably would be in kitchen cooking breakfast. I looked down at the floor. According to my knowledge and power to remembrance his clothes too were on floor and should be on floor. My consciousness grew as I made my towards the kitchen. The whole house was silent. The only sound which could be heard was my bade bare feet padding against the wooden floor

“Harry? Where’re yeh babe?” I asked looking around but he was no were to be found. Kitchen, bathroom, basement. I searched everywhere but he was gone. I slid down the wall with my head in my hands. Hot tears streaming down my tears. I didn’t wanted to lose him. Then suddenly I dialled his number hoping he’d pick up but instead his caller tone gave the answer

‘Call me a thief. There’s been a robbery. I left with her heart, tore it apart-made no apologies’

He was right. He was a thief.

a dash of wicked;

kim seokjin | “I’m a writer and you’re my character and wtf how the heck did you just literally climb out of my first draft?” ⇢ what exactly is standard protocol when a super villain you create for a children’s book comes to life one day? well, you keep him, of course. | 2.6k words. | supernatural, fluff. for this request from this prompt list.

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

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