but why does she have no shirt

Some of you are saying that the citizens of Hasetsu probably think Viktor is just Yuuri’s eccentric foreign boyfriend and I cannot say how much I agree.

“What a nice young man,” says Tamura-san, who used to run the fish shop in town and now usually sits beside the register and chats with customers while her grandson rings them up. She was born before ice skating was declared an Olympic sport and has absolutely no idea who Viktor Nikiforov is. 

“Yes, we’re very glad to have Vicchan staying with us!” Hiroko says of Viktor, who’s standing behind her cradling fifteen pounds of tuna and smiling brightly at Tamura-san. 

“How good of you to follow Yuu-chan home after he graduated!” Tamura-san continues, about ten decibels louder than she needs to. Tamura-san is about 87% deaf in her old age, but nobody has the heart to tell her so. “You must love him very much!”

Viktor, who has no idea what she’s just said to him but who heard Yuuri’s name, just blindly says, “Oh yes!” and grins even brighter. 

“Have you seen Viktor Nikiforov?” demands a rabid paparazzo of some poor fisherman just trying to do his job.

“Who?” asks the fisherman, frowning at the lens of the camera. 

“He’s tall? Foreign? Silver hair?”

“You mean Katsuki-kun’s boyfriend?” says the fisherman. Katsuki-kun’s boyfriend had run by ten minutes before with his poodle in tow, European synth pop blasting so loud from his headphones that it could be heard for a full minute both before and after he ran past. The fisherman doesn’t exactly know where Katsuki-kun found that guy, but he looks at Katsuki-kun like he hung the stars, so the fisherman can’t blame him.

In the end, he tells the paparazzo to go the opposite direction of the one he just saw Katsuki-kun’s boyfriend go.

A girl from Hasetsu graduates high school the summer Yuuri returns from America and is inspired by his experiences to go to college in America as well. She arrives in her freshman year dorm room and is greeted by a poster of Viktor Nikiforov hung up by her roommate.

“Why do you have a picture of Viktor?” she asks, bewildered. Viktor is wearing a pair of black slacks and a bright pink shirt unbuttoned almost to his navel.

“Oh, you know who Viktor Nikiforov is?” her roommate asks, excitedly.

“Do YOU?” the girl asks, incredulous. Viktor is known to her as “That foreign guy that followed Yuuri back from America when he came home” and also as Viktor-Who-Puts-Jam-In-His-Tea-Like-Who-Even-Does-That. Certainly not as Viktor Nikiforov, Five-Time World Figure Skating Champion and definitely not as Viktor-Who-Deserves-To-Be-On-Someone’s-Wall.

Come October, Viktor has started introducing HIMSELF to people as Viktor I’m Yuuri’s Boyfriend. While half of Russia reads articles about Figure Skating’s Living Legend, a sleepy town in Japan wakes up every morning to Yuuri’s Boyfriend Viktor wheeling through town on his bike with Yuuri and Their Cute Dog.

Viktor loves Hasetsu.

Evidence Nicole could be a werewolf

Now, I don’t really think she is, but I find it interesting and it could explain some things.

°Nicole immediately jumps to some supernatural shit once something bad happens in purgatory.

°Nicole is completely ready to accept the fact that purgatory is overrun by demons and that doc Holliday is alive. She never evens questions doc on how he’s still alive. She doesn’t question how purgatory is run by demons. She just accepts it completely.

°She’s exceptionally perceptive. I mean, she can hear wynonna walking into the police station in time for her to break the kiss between her and Waverly. She can tell when wynonna is coming up the steps when Waverly couldn’t (“guess we’re still fighting…”). She told Waverly that she tastes different. Who says that?? Like, why didn’t she say something like “Waverly, your breath is terrible.” Why, “You taste different”??

°She heals FAST. In all reality, getting shot with a bulletproof vest should’ve broken her ribs. She should’ve been in excruciating pain. But she’s able to talk to Waverly for a few good minutes, and the next time we see her she’s got a tiny bruise. Not only that, but remember how she was still tender when Waverly reached under her shirt? Didn’t they have sex a day later? How did she loose that tenderness so fast???

°She wants to be part of the pack. Is it just me, or does Nicole seem a bit too upset that she’s not being included? It could be because she doesn’t want to be a lone wolf and wants to be accepted by the pack and not doing so is getting her down. Lone wolves are typically depressed until they join a pack.

… Okay, I might accept the theory a bit more now.

In honor of Annabeth’s birthday I wrote a little fic, it’s in the same timeline as this fic you don’t have to read it to understand this fic, but it would give you a better understanding of the plot. This story was supposed to be written last year but I had a little accident with scissors and my had and I wasn’t able to write. Huge thanks to @quietlykeen for being my beta and to @nerdyadventures to allow me to yell my writing frustrations at her, you guys are the best <3


It’s not that she was expecting her friends to do something for her birthday…but she was kind of expecting them to do something for her birthday and a part of her felt guilty for thinking like that.  They had asked her if she had wanted to spend her birthday in Xcaret, a natural water park, but Annabeth had politely declined. She wasn’t a big fan of her birthday, she usually spent it at camp where her cabin and friends celebrate her during the campfire but with the loom of the war coming, her last few birthdays had barely been acknowledged. There was also the fact she didn’t like to remember her last birthday, her seventeenth one. She didn’t even realize her birthday had passed until she and Percy had been safe and sound in the Argo II and they had realized what day it was and honestly, she felt like there was nothing to celebrate. She wasn’t sure why she declined to celebrate her eighteenth birthday at the water park but it just didn’t feel right. Her friends did the second best they could, they went to Xcaret the day before her birthday and they spoil her and let her choose where to go first.

She wasn’t gonna lie, she absolutely enjoyed the day they spent there. It was a happy thought knowing it was just a normal day of her friends hanging out not celebrating her. They had arrived home late that night, all tired and happy and ready for bed time…well almost everyone. The day at the underwater rivers and the ocean had filled Percy with energy and while the others were sleeping in their rooms, Annabeth had started her birthday with her boyfriend between her legs. Annabeth wasn’t surprised to wake up when the sun was all the way up, her body aching from a mix of the day before and Percy worshiping her at night.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Annabeth turned to where Percy’s voice came from he was leaning against the bathroom frame door, and Annabeth took a few seconds to appreciate her boyfriend; his jeans hung low on his hips, the waistband of his boxers peeking out from under them. Excluding a shirt resting on his shoulder, his torso was naked. Annabeth smiled at the sight of his abs, his hair wet from the shower or from the ocean, she wasn’t sure. “You missed breakfast.”

Annabeth picked up her phone, the numbers 11:35 AM making her groan. “I guess I have you to blame for that, don’t I?”

He smirked at her. “I didn’t hear you complaining about keeping you up last night.” Annabeth threw him a pillow, but sleep was still in her body and the pillow didn’t reach him. He laughed at her. “Come on, are you gonna stay all day in bed? We are all being lazy in the living room.”

Keep reading

I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Thirteen

Summary: You travel to Rome and meet up with the Padaleckis. Thomas has some questions about your relationship, and you fight homesickness by FaceTiming with Danneel and JJ
Words: 4k
Jared x Reader x Gen, Misha, Tom, Shep, Jensen, Danneel, JJ
Warnings: brief angst
Beta: @blacksiren

IKYW Masterpost

Your name: submit What is this?

You and Misha drove back down to London on Monday, the day before your flight out to Rome.

Seeing as you hadn’t visited the UK before, he insisted that you fit as many tourist-y things into the one day you had.

Keep reading

You Are A Lady!

Pairing: Peter Parker (Tom) x Reader

Warnings: Verbal abuse / yelling / physical abuse 

Summary: It seemed as though everything was going well. It’s your five month anniversary with Peter, May had become a better parent than your own, and you passed the science quiz this morning! Why does your mom always have to ruin everything?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Peter, I have to go.” Y/N mumbled, not really wanting to leave. Peter held on tighter, keeping you close to him and unable to get up. Y/N’s laugh was muffled by his shirt as she tried to sit up.

“Babe!” She dragged on, finally escaping his death hold. Their folders and books were on the floor, surrounded by the paper that had been discarded during their play fight. Aunt May knocked on the door, asking if they were decent before opening the door. 

“Yeah, we have clothes on,” Peter said as he sat up, running a hand through his hair.  He slipped on a jacket and stood up, standing next to his beautiful girlfriend. 

“Your mom called,” May stated sympathetically, “She said she wants you home right now.” May left the door open and Y/N’s eyes widened. She took a quick glance at Peter before checking the time.

“No, no, no. Shit!” She frantically got her things together and threw them in her bag, zipping it up as much as it would go. Peter bit his lip, realizing she was going to get yelled at because of him. Y/N noticed his internal conflict and grabbed his face in both of her hands.

“It’s not your fault. I love you.” She mumbled, kissing him quickly and running out of his house, yelling a ‘bye’ to May who was barely starting dinner. She ran the full four blocks and up the steps of their house. She grabbed her key but the door had opened before she put it in the lock.

“Where have you been? I called and texted you! You were with that Peter boy, weren’t you? He’s no good, I’m telling you. He may be smart, but he has a new bruise everytime I see him. Which is rare, by the way!” Her mom rambled, furious at the fact that she was late to family dinner, again. Y/N clenched her jaw and threw her backpack on the ground in the corner. She walked to the dinner table and sat down across from her little brother.

Her mom sat down quickly, her eyes red from anger. She took a deep breath before saying a quick prayer. Y/N kept her eyes opened and ahead. Why does she always have to over exaggerate on everything? It’s not like I'm ever going to be like her. She thought to herself as she ate the healthy food. 

Throughout the entire dinner, her mother would point things out, trying to make her more proper. 

“Put the napkin on your lap so if you spill, it won’t ruin anything.”
“No, no. Use that spoon for the soup.”
“Don’t open your mouth and chew.”
“Cross your ankles while sitting.”

Y/N abruptly stood up, making the chair squeak back and almost fall over. She slammed her hands on the table while her brother and father backed away and stayed out of the fight..

“Why do you always have to make everything so perfect?!!” Y/N yelled, staring straight at her mother. She stood up too, appalled that her daughter was talking back.

“Because how will you ever get anywhere in life being sloppy?” She said, her voice eerily calm. She placed her napkin on the table, daring her daughter to talk back.

“People actually can live their life normally. This isn’t normal. This is insecurity! You try to make others like you and I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to be like you! It’s boring and I wish you would treat me as your daughter, not soon to be royalty! Hell, even Peters aunt is a better parent than you!!” Y/N yelled, her face red and tears stinging her eyes.

A loud slap filled the silent kitchen, Y/N’s head turned to the side and her mother’s hand on the opposite side of her own body. 

“You are a lady. Act like one. There will be no cursing in my house, do you understand. I have kept this house maintained in both cleanliness and morality. Go to your room.” Y/M/N calmly said, though her expression was anything but calm. Y/N’s hand rose to her stinging face, tears dripping down her face. Her mother sat back down and continued eating while her brother and father stared wide eyed. 

Y/N shook her head before running up the stairs, She grabbed her duffle bag from her closet and emptied it. She sniffled and wiped her cheeks dry. She held her tears in and called Peter as she packed the bag with essentials and clothes.

“Hello,” Peter answered with a full mouth when he saw the picture of Y/N on it. Aunt May watched him as his eyes went wide and he stopped eating, “Yeah, yeah of course. She’s fine with it. I promise.” He hung up, staring at Aunt May with wide eyes. 

“It’s okay if Y/N stays for a couple days, maybe weeks, right?” Peter asked quietly. 

“Yes, of course. Is she on her way?” May asked, standing up to make another plate. Peter nodded just as a soft knock was heard. He ran to the door and frantically opened, pulling you into a hug when he saw you.

“She hit me. She never hits me.” Y/N sobbed in his chest. He pulled her in and closed the door. Kissing the top of her head. She backed away from him, and looked around the corner, seeing Aunt May. She ran to the older woman and wrapped her arms around her back. May jumped and turned around. Sadness overtook her features as she hugged the younger girl, holding her tight and whispering comforting words to her. 

“You’re always welcomed here, you hear me?” Y/N nodded as Peter watched on, hoping she would stay for more than a few weeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a / n : hope you like it :) !! - b

Shit my Mom says: Shadowhunters 2.08
  • Mom: He's so handsome.
  • Mom: I bet the magic would be stronger if he had his shirt off.
  • Mom: Why does he wear clothes?
  • Mom: He has a really nice voice.
  • Mom: I really enjoyed that episode; I can't wait for the next one.
Sentiments Mean Nothing

A/N: Welllll, first Harry Styles fic because, honestly, I’ve been a hardcore fan of his and the boys since literally 2011 and his solo career has been hitting me right in the heart, my baby’s doing so well, I’m such a proud mother. So, have this. This is, by far, the longest shot I’ve written on this blog so let’s hope it doesn’t get too boring and you enjoy it as much as I did writing it x.

Warning(s): Swearing, very slight Daddy kink at the end, suggestive sexual nature throughout

Word count: 4,261

Pairing(s): Harry Styles x Reader / Harry Styles x OC (Original Character)


          You know, it wasn’t so much that she and Harry hated each other, per se, rather it was just that they had both developed a sort of, mutual dislike towards one another that, quite frankly, neither of them knew where it stemmed from. The pair had done nothing wrong to each other to deserve the hostility, but it was there and they both never really knew why. It was very much like an ancient feud between them.

Very Montague vs. Capulet-esque.

However, considering that they’d only had the pleasure of knowing of the other’s existence for about 2 years, the use of the word, ‘ancient’, seems invalid. Nevertheless, from the moment they first met, there seemed to have been an already established tension between the two personalities and needless to say, neither of them cared for the personality of the other.

See, he was a private person, an introvert, you could say; despite being a household name around the world, and preferred to keep himself to himself regarding personal matters but being quite the socialite when it came to public appearances.

She, on the other hand, she was… loud, in Harry’s books. An outgoing and excitable character that wore her heart on her sleeve within the comfort of her inner circle in contrast to the shy, non-talkative woman he had met through a mutual friend during a party.

With him being the one to instigate the conversations the whole time with a drink in his hand and a wide, fake-looking smile that looked practiced for situations like these, she found him pretentious and over-bearing. Talking to her as if she was a little girl who was too immature to talk to strangers.

And with her barely opening her mouth to answer his questions, nodding her head up and down or shaking it from side to side instead as an indicator of her feelings to avoid awkward stutters and embarrassing herself, all the while sipping from her glass and avoiding the glint in his eyes as he talked to her, he found her dismissive and arrogant. As if she didn’t have the time to converse with someone like him.

Despite their feelings towards each other, though, they had wound up spending extended amounts of time together over the course of the 2 years seeing as she had managed to pick up the job of his fashion stylist ever since the band went on a hiatus and he launched his solo career.

Although, the former cold-shoulders and silent treatments as they went on with their own tasks for the day started to dissolve. Their prejudices were still upheld, just shown in a slightly different manner as they became more accepting and comfortable towards their mutual distaste for one another.

During the first year, scornful glances and tight smiles were shared as they conversed briefly as to what Harry would be wearing for his next TV appearance. This was to be replaced during the second year with extra touchy-feely advances to tease and sarcastic remarks followed by cheesy pet-names to piss each other off were exchanged as she took Harry’s new measurements.

“You should buy me dinner ‘fore you get on your knees, sweetheart.” A dirty, but snide, comment was normal from Harry and she had honestly been expecting it from the moment she had started to measure his inseam.

“’S a good thing you pay for dinner then, i'n’t it? Tha’ way you can get on your knees for me.” She spoke in rebuttal before leaning back into a squatting position and standing back up. Her heels adding a good three inches to her height but still not nearly as tall as the 5'11" man in front of her.

She pivoted on her heel to place the measuring tape back in its rightful place before recording the numbers into her little journal of everything important she needed to know about Harry in order to fit him perfectly to his tailor-made, brand-name outfits.

She heard him step off the mini platform at the centre of the room and stalk behind her, his warmth radiating from his body to hers.

Why does he always stand so close, for fuck sake, it’s like he has no spacial awareness.” It was times like these where she thought to herself if there would be any chance in the world, where she could find a genuine bubble she could permanently place Harry in to avoid the close contact every minute, she would.

“Tell me again why we need t’ do these fitting things every six months? Seriously, ’m a grown man, my body doesn’t change tha’ much in tha’ time period.” Harry starting to fiddle with her pen she just used to write with as his minty breath fanned over the right side of her face.

“It does with your irregular fucking diet plans, Styles. Would it kill you t’ stick t’ one regime?” She spun around and leant against the grand table with her arms folded, looking up at the, now short-haired, tattooed man as he shifted to put his hands on the edge of the intricate furniture either side of her body.

“Mm, I think ’s jus’ 'cause you wanna try your hand at seducing me during these sessions.” His voice lowered down to a sultry, deep tone in an attempt to fluster his stylist but she, as always, stands her ground.

“If I wanted t’ seduce you, baby, I would’ve done it by now,” She leant up slightly, the endearing term fell from her mouth without hesitance while their breaths mixed between their parted lips as she continued. “And besides, size 10 feet? Not tha’ impressive.” She smirked subtly as she saw his face fall. He knew what she was indirectly referring to and, judging by the way he reacted, she knew she had hit a nerve in which she also gathered he would to try prove her wrong.

But before he could, however, she slipped out from underneath him and started walking towards the entrance to exit the room, her heels clicking against the expensive marble floors, not bothering to close the chrome door and yelling a, “make sure t’ lock the door when you leave!” to a rigid Harry who let out a sigh and rubbed his ring-clad hands over his face to let out some frustration towards the woman who was trapped in between him and the mahogany table not even thirty seconds ago, before slamming his hand on it and purposely leaving the door wide open in spite.


          “Change.”

Was the only word from the judgmental, but somehow always right, fashion stylist that Harry heard as he did a twirl in his new suit. Having quite the admiration towards the look, if he does say so himself, after inspecting it in the mirror.

“Whyy?” He drew out the word to emphasise his annoyance with the constant change of outfits. He might as well be a marathon runner, he’s breaking a sweat from changing his bloody clothes.

“Because, honey, the shirt doesn’t match the suit at all. That’s why I told yeh t’ wear black, not white, bu’ look who didn’t listen yet again.” She stood there behind him with her pen held in between her front teeth and one arm around her torso to keep her other elbow resting on top, catching his eye through the mirror.

He scans her choice of clothing today and, as per usual, she’s wearing the most stylish and trendy pieces that she matches so well with her heels. Harry’s never really understood how she so effortlessly throws together a look ready for the runway everyday when she comes into work but still manages to keep it light and casual as if it was the first thing she found in her closet earlier in the morning.

He trailed his eyes up her body, tanned and fit, may he add, to her subtly made up face which was glowing. He assumed it was from the highlighter she applied, because why else would he describe her as 'glowing’? That’s disgusting. He doesn’t like her. Not one bit.

“Have you quite finished staring at me, or do I need t’ get the camera for yeh so it’ll last longer?” She allowed the tease to be projected as she approached him, standing on the tiny platform, meaning their bodies were now pressed against each others’ closely before she shrugged off his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“'Ey, 'ey, 'ey. You normally need t’ get me drunk first before we can 'ave some fun, darlin’.” He smirked down at her, watching as she aggressively rolled her sparkling eyes at his comment. She continued to pull the shirt off of him and stepped down to grab the black shirt she had wanted him to wear in the first place.

As she turned around, she couldn’t help but notice a slight change in his physical appearance. His back muscles seemed more prominent. His thighs looked even more full than they already were when she last took a good look at them. His arms were bulkier. His torso now adorned with evident bumps of abdominal muscles. Even his cute, little bum seemed rounder and plumper which made her stifle a giggle.

“Awe, babe, have you been working out?” She had to bite her bottom lip to stop her bursting out into laughter when she caught him standing up a bit straighter, looking proud that his work was noticeable.

“Nice t’ know you were checking me out back there. Like wha’ yeh see, angel?” The pet-names were used as a kind of second nature to the pair of them now, but they were far from endearments. No, on the contrary, they were always laced with slight undertones of incivility and cheek. They were both familiar with them by now.

“Oh, most definitely. You been working out jus’ for me? I know ’m the only one you strip down for lately.” She referenced to the multiple outfit decisions they had to endure with every appearance he made in public, which people would be surprised as to how often that is, and she had to make sure that he was not seen repeating a look. God forbid he wore the same trousers twice.

She slowly made her way towards the, still shirtless, male stood in the middle of the high-ceiling-ed chamber, decorated with mirrors, as she ran her hands up and down his back before rubbing at his shoulders. Harry’s head fell back at the sensation of the soothing motions on his shoulders, he had been meaning to go to a masseuse to get the knots out of his joints for a while now. He closed his eyes and let out a content sigh, completely forgetting that she would be the last person on Earth he would want to touch him like this a few days ago but he allowed the action.

“Yeh know I was filming 'Dunkirk’, sweetie, don’t flatter yourself.” He retorted as he pulled her round to his front by her waist and leant his body against hers, his frame towering over her smaller one.

“’S a shame, really. And here I was, about t’ let you have your way with me only if you had jus’ admitted this is all for me.” She fake-pouted as she taunted him, something she has perfected over the years, with her hands resting against his naked chest. There was something about the way her clothed, soft chest was pressed into his bare, hard one that made the both of them lose control of the situation at hand temporarily as they focused on each other in that moment.

“Don’t tempt me, baby.” His voice switched to a low whisper, a threat almost.

“I don’t have to.” She replied with confidence, her eyes flickering to his raspberry-coloured lips that looked so inviting.

It was strange for the both of them, being in this position they’d never thought they’d see themselves in, but here they are. Through all the slight sexual tension covered up by distasteful remarks about each other over the years, clouded by the decision subconsciously made that they had a repulsion towards one another, they had failed to realise that attraction could’ve easily been confused with said repulsion, convincing themselves that it was a fact neither of them liked the other and that was final. Perhaps too afraid to confess and deal with the consequences of their feelings.

Just as they begun to come to terms with the compromising position they were in, and even more conflicting emotions fluttering around the space, the door was pushed open and two flailing bodies broke apart at lightning speed. Harry quickly finding his black shirt and fumbling with the buttons as the flustered stylist violently grabbed her journal and pretended to write in it whilst holding the pen upside down.

Not another word was spoken between the two of them as they complete the fitting session, everyone coming to a conclusion that the black shirt was indefinitely better than the white, much to Harry’s dismay, and their day was done.

The two parted and went their separate ways, however, the mental image of the other never left their minds for the rest of the week until they had to face the music at the next session.


          Harry was fucked.

Royally fucked.

So fucked, in fact, that he decided to wallow in self-pity at how fucked he was then he went out and fucked a random girl whilst thinking of fucking his attractive stylist he had now realised he had already fucked things over with.

If that doesn’t scream, “fucked”, I don’t know what does.

Though what he didn’t know, was that said stylist was also feeling the same way about him and was completely distraught over the idea that she might like Harry Styles. The same Harry that would make her want to rather die than converse with him for more than ten minutes. The same Harry that would tempt her to spit in his food whenever it got delivered during the fittings. The same Harry that would force her to socialise with large groups of people she didn’t know when he knew it made her uncomfortable.

But it was also the same Harry that, when he held her in his arms that other day, made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. And it was the same Harry with pink, soft lips that she wanted to kiss so desperately whilst, at the same time, tugging on his curly locks.

Though, more importantly, he was her Harry. He had always been her Harry to tease, to taunt, to tantalise, and to mess with until he’d get all riled up and sometimes push her against the wall (which she didn’t necessarily mind). But now, she wanted to describe him as being her Harry in a different way, and that scared the shit out of her.

She didn’t know what the fuck to do anymore, it’s like her life lost all purpose if she couldn’t make fun of the Cheshire-raised lad, and now all she wanted to do was tell him about her family and cuddle. She had actually begun to suspect she had developed some sort of illness and hoped it would go away like a common cold.

Although, she figured this was not the case the next time she saw him, in all his 5'11" glory, at a party very much like the one they first met at two years ago. Sipping on her alcoholic beverage, she observed him from far away as he mingled, as he always does so flawlessly, with people she had never seen before in her life. The very mere fact that he was in her presence not even ten feet away made her stomach tighten with new feelings she never thought she would associate with the musician and she hated herself for it.

Turning her body away from him towards the bar, she asked for another drink, slipping the rectangular note of currency towards the bartender as he fixed her up yet another glass. She knew she had most likely needed to have stopped drinking so heavily around the 'two hours ago’ mark, but right now, she really couldn’t care less, she just wanted to forget about Harry and if getting her stomach pumped for the first time means achieving her goal then fuck it.

Her motive was short-lived, however, since the charming man that was swimming her mind plopped himself on the stool next to her and gave her a sly smirk.

“Wha’ do we 'ave here?” He questioned, mainly to himself, as he observed the obviously intoxicated woman in front of him.

She rolled her eyes, hopping off the high stool, only to fall face first into Harry’s crotch which made him jerk back at the impact and let out a slight groan before cupping her cheeks and lifting her head up to inspect how far gone she really is.

“Heloooo, handsummm!” She tried her best to imitate a wolf-whistle seeing as she couldn’t actually whistle so instead made a sort of high-pitched, 'whi-woo’, as she trailed her index finger down the curve of his cheek and smiling drunkenly, “I misst yeww…” The slur in her words concerned him, not knowing how much she’s had to drink and she clearly could not stand up without support.

“’M gonna take yeh home, okay, baby girl? You’re alrigh’.” He scooped her up into his arms without any struggle and started to manoeuvre his way out of the clammy air of the bar to the nippy, fresh air of the London streets. He set her down on her feet for a second, leaning her against him to keep her balance, as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her, knowing that even though his place was only a rough 20 minute walk from the party location, the chilly air would get to her more easily than it would him, she’d always been sensitive to the cold, and at this time of night, it certainly didn’t make the air more humid.

After a solid few minutes of walking to his abode, they finally reached the welcoming front door of his mansion, him fiddling in his pocket to find the right set of keys before twisting the lock and pushing the door open. A gust of warm, fruit-scented air hit the both of them as he stepped inside, laying her down on his extended white sofa in the living room before closing the door.

“Mmm, are yeh gon’ sex me up noww, Daddy?” Her sudden words making him choke on his own spit, as he cautiously walked towards the tiny figure resting on his comfortable seating area.

“No, no, ’m not, baby, not right now, yeh need t’ rest. I’ll get yeh some water and some Advil t’ take then we can go t’ bed, okay?” He spoke in a soft, calming tone that made her suddenly relaxed, only finding the strength in her to nod before he stroked her hair back from her face and made his way to the well-presented, expensive kitchen with more room than he needed.

As a matter of fact, all the rooms in this place were more than he needed, if he was honest, but he just didn’t know what else to use his money on.

Approaching the worn-out female sprawled across his sofa with a glass of fresh water and two pills in his other hand, he set down the glass on the side table whilst reaching his hand out to tilt her head up slightly and sit her up enough so she could swallow comfortably. He pried open her mouth by holding her jaw and placed the pills on the top of her tongue that had traces of alcohol left on it, bringing the liquid up to her lips and telling her to swallow gently. She obeyed and took the medication before slumping back onto the cushiony surface as he sighed, soaking in her beauty, even in this state of mind.

He watched as she closed her eyes and got comfortable, taking it as his cue to leave her to sleep, so kissed her forehead with care, and started to prepare to deal with whatever shit storm that was bound to happen, in the morning. Well, that was until he heard a small whine coming from her calling out for him.

“Harryy?… Stay wit’ meh? I wan’ cuddles.” She rubbed her eyes with her knuckles and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling gently at the sight. She was just so adorable, how could he say no?

“’M right here, poppet, ’m not going anywhere.” He answered her before carefully laying down beside the inebriated girl he had grown fond of these past couple of weeks and tangled their limbs together, letting her rest her head against his chest and wrap herself around him in an attempt to snuggle and use him as her own personal pillow and blanket.

As he listened to her breathing become regular and so quiet he had to strain to listen to it, he knew she had fallen asleep so pressed another tender kiss to the crown of her head and whispered to her in her unconscious state.

“I’d never leave you.”

And it was in that sweet moment that Harry now realised that she had a hold on him, and he intended on not letting go.


          Harsh rays of bright sunlight beamed through white, sheer curtains and hit her face as she stirred from her slumber. It was a Saturday morning and she was definitely not in the comfort of her own home so thought the worst and groaned inwardly in shame at herself for letting herself get so wasted. The first thing she did was just look down at her, what she expected to be, naked body, but instead found herself and the mystery man fully clothed. Confusion overtook her features and something she noticed right away was that her 'pillow’ was breathing and they’re not supposed to do that, right? Or was she still tripping from the after effects of the amounts of alcohol she consumed last night?

A wave of pain radiated throughout her head as she groaned, bringing a palm to her forehead in an unsuccessful attempt to soothe it slightly. Her movements unnoticeably woke up her 'pillow’ and startled her when the familiar deep, raspy, and, dare she say, sexy morning voice sounded from underneath her.

Oh, fuck me, not Harry. Anyone but Harry.” She thought to herself, although not truly meaning it since she found herself absentmindedly wanting the situation to have been more… wild.

“Well, good mornin’, sunshine.” He chuckled lightly at her facial expression following the pet-name he had chosen.

“Wha’ the fuck happened last night?” She asked half-heartedly.

Part of her didn’t really care what happened whilst the other part dreaded what his answer would be.

“You really don’t remember?” His voice was thick with an emotion she couldn’t quite pin-point but she did know that she felt guilty after hearing it, sensing that he was a little disappointed.

She merely shook her head and bit her lip, titling her head up to read his clouded eyes, they always gave away whatever he was thinking, she detected this within the first few months of knowing him.

“It doesn’t matter, now can you get off of me, you’re starting t’ feel like a deadweight. I honestly can’t feel my legs.” His whole demeanour changed in a split second and she was a little surprised but what did she expect, really? He’s just the same old Harry, though she’d be lying if she said it didn’t hurt a little.

“I’m not getting up 'til you tell me exactly wha’ happened, Harry.” She was adamant. She was always the type of person to get answers out of whoever she wanted, he was starting to wonder why she wasn’t a fucking lawyer or something.

“Listen, nothin’ happe-.” He was cut off by her swollen lips pressed against his.

To say he was shocked would be an understatement, he was bloody flat-lining on the inside but he quickly reciprocated the sudden, but passionate, kiss as he wrapped his arms around her waist with her hands coming up to caress his cheeks. Her legs ended up either side of his torso and she pulled away just before he had the chance to poke his tongue in her mouth, just to tease, like normal.

“D'yeh want something t’ happen?…” She questioned him inquisitively, not 100% sure that he shared the same feelings that she had pent up inside of her for, what felt like, decades.

He responded by flipping her so she laid on her back instead and hovered over her, leaning down to peck her lips once more before moving down to her neck and pressing open-mouthed kisses along the skin.

“All ’ve been thinkin’ 'bout for ages, darlin’. Let Daddy make yeh feel good.” He smirked into her skin once he felt her gasp quietly and visibly tense at his words.

“I called you, 'Daddy’, last night, didn’t I?” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment once she heard him chuckle and answer with a muffled, “you did”.

“And it definitely won’t be the last time.” He commented in a sultry voice before raising his head to make eye contact with her and leaning down to connect his lips with hers another time.


He made a promise, and he was damn hell-bent on making sure he kept it.

sneak peak of i’m not ashamed

SCENE ONE: long haired Rachel holds an fruit longingly while Token Goth Girl in a Christian Movie twaddles her fingers. They all have apples and nothing else. Just apples at this table. And everyone looks miserable.

OwO what’s this? She looks to the side and sees Rat Boy, Dildo Ebola, eating an orange. That’s the orange table, Rachel. We’re the apple table. We don’t associate with them. Why are they eating so much fruit? Why is he looking at her like that? Why is he looking at her at all? Why does he care?

dude


fLUSTERED dylan suddenly turns to his orange

Yes… orange, very peely and orange. he is looking for anything to distract him from his boring red-shirted friend, who is staring lustfully at an apple, a probable symbolism of the girls at the Apple Table . 

“get rid of all the fat ugly retarted gross stupid weird nerd star wars fans old people nickelback fans bronies twihards people that arent i eric har” wAIT, this red shirted, hairy-armed chap must be Eric Hairless! Wonderful. He has a glass of apple juice, and an apple. What a rebellious choice from someone outside the Apple Table. Must symbolize what will happen to the people at the Apple Table. Eric you cruel monster….. you devil…. I cant even look at him and his ham sandwich. 

Dildo and random guy who i’m assuming is some sort of Brooks Brown character look at ranting child Eric with distaste. Is he done? Will he ever be done? Seems, upon closer inspection, Dylan is the only one eating an orange. Is every table the Apple Table? Does this symbolize how Dildo Memaw had no sense of belonging in the world? What the everloving fuck is Brooks Brown Guy wearing? 1950′s Grandpa pajamas? That’s not grunge at all. We have our first glance at the pristine white hats in the background. Our eric finishes his rant and looks at Dildo for validation. W-Was it cool, Dylan-senpai? OwO?

“y-yeah.” He stutters. Oh god. I can just smell Dave Cullen. What the fuck is he wearing??? Is that some kind of bondage harness? Or it could be just a keycard or something but to what? Weird design to it also.

Eric, finding validation in the y-yeah, continues on with his rant, looking up from his beloved apple to his gay lover. “Nobody is deserving of this planet,” he says “just me and who i chose.” FUNNY because I think i remember the quote being “Give the world back to the animals, they deserve it more than we do,” but of course they had to satan it up so people hated him more.

“send them all up to space”

“dude we can’t send them to space”

TWO trenchcoated figures appear in the background! We weren’t looking at Dylan and Eric the entire time! These inaccuracies weren’t actually inaccuracies. Thank you Dave. But they are. 

“look at these F AR T K N O CK ERS!!!”

alright, i’ll admit i lost my s h i t when he said that. Whhhhat? is that a slang for gay… because like, anal? Probably not. Probably a Christian censored version of ‘fag’ or something. So… it could be? I don’t know. It’s easier not to think about it….. they never said it…………………………………… they never said it….

“what’s up? F O U R E YE S” he pushes the trenchcoated chap into a table. 

He kinda just nudges him into the table, but he flies across the table, knocking everything over, breaking his spine and rendering him immobile for the rest of his life. Not really. But i’m sure Dave asked. By the way, yes, I’m sure Dave Cullen is involved with this movie. He can call me a dirtbag, but I know.

he gets up?

and falls to the ground, his trenchcoat goth friends dragging him away as Jock Stud over there kicks him. He has been rendered immobile for some reason. Everyone watches, amused. This always happens at 12:00. Same time every morning. It’s a spectacle.

come on bro, we gotta be gay somewhere else…. these heterosexuals don’t accept us.”

“YEAH GOOD JOB HELPING YOUR BUDDY OUT GUYS, GOOD TEAMWORK”

thanks, jock? is that even an insult? thanks for the motivation,

The jocks laugh in triumph, they have belittled another Goth. They’re so fucking cool, and they know it. There are many ways to wear a white hat, but they’re all wearing it at a 90 degree angle, pristine white like they soak them in bleach before they go to school, and backwards. 

they have this really long pan on this black kid. Eric’s face is wrinkled in distaste. I think this is the moment trying to signify that Eric is racist because he’s looking at the black bully distastefully. Alright, Christian Movie. Thanks for that.

Rachel giving the Lanza Stare™ to the Jocks. 

Who is this and why are him and Rachel making intimate eye contact? He looks like Dennis the Menace. Like who the fuck is this supposed to be. Also what shampoo does that other jock guy use? Damn

*wink*

What I’m assuming is he’s one of Rachel’s friends that is trying to relapse and recover from his Jock Asshole ways but he can’t seem to quit. Rachel reminds him and he feels shame.

Back to the Sin Table, Dylan looks expectantly at Eric as he continues peeling his fucking orange. He expects him to be like I DONT CARE WHAT YOU SAY IF YOU EVER TOUCH HIM AGAIN ILL FRICKIN KILL YOU ILL PULL OUT A GODDAMN SHOTGUN AND BLOW YOUR DAMN HEAD OFF DO YOU UNDERSTAND YOU LITTLE WORTHLESS PIECE OF CRAAAAHP but no, sadly, because that is not Eric’s true colors. That is his mobster alter-ego, Reb.

He looks like a thirty year old christian youth leader that’s newly married with a baby on the way. But he looks angry also… i guess?? I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.

he violently bangs his apple on the table. Damn, does he want to bang someone from the Apple Table on the table?/?/????? Where does his violence end

ooh dam, it got a broose. Also he’s fucking shredded. Why.

-the scene fades to black-

“I’m lost without you...” - Bruce Wayne x Reader

#8. Going through a crisis together.

This is not a funny story, but after all the fluffiness I wrote lately, I wanted to write something…kinda sad. Not the angstiest story I ever written but…just not just fluff. There’s still some fluffy moments though, and maybe you won’t find it sad at all, maybe it won’t touch you (and didn’t proofread because of reasons), it’s also maybe a bit (a lot) cheesy but…Oh well, hope you’ll still like it :

(My masterlist blog here : https://ella-ravenwood-archives.tumblr.com)

__________________________________________________

-You have to choose mister Wayne.

-I…I can’t…how…how am I suppose to…

-If you don’t, they will both die. It’s as simple as that, you have to take a decision. Now. 

Bruce’s head is spinning, and he cannot hear anything else but the fast beating of his heart. Why was this happening ? Why couldn’t something go right for once ? Hasn’t he and his family suffered enough already ?

He feels light headed and sits down on the cold metal chair, in a cold and way too bright hospital corridor. His sons are here, and he just faintly feels their hands supporting him, helping him sit down, stroking his back soothingly, hugging him to try and make him feel better…But he cannot feel better.

He has to make an impossible choice.

Mercilessly, the doctor insists once more, because time is running out :

-Your wife, or the child mister Wayne ? We cannot save both of them. 

His wife, or his child.

How could he choose ?

**********************

He wakes up with a start, and by instinct reaches for you…but you’re not here. You haven’t been here for the past month and a half. Unable to soothe him back to sleep after one of his nightmare, as you would usually do. 

Bruce felt like he was back when he was eight years old and just lost his parents. Back in Crime Alley that fateful night. 

He couldn’t see the light, all hope had left him, all will of living slowly faded away, and he was full of so much anger and sadness. 

Angry at the World, angry at life, angry at you…but the sorrow he felt was stronger. And he couldn’t use his anger, he couldn’t be strong this time, turn his life around to be able to live with the thought of loosing someone he loved so much, he couldn’t bear to live like this…Without you. He needed you. Your support. Your presence. Holding you in his arms was all he craved for…He looked at the spot you haven’t occupied in a month and a half and sighed. 

He was almost hoping you’d open the bathroom door, and come back to bed with him, smiling…But you wouldn’t. 

Not because you died, but because he “let your daughter die”. 

Keep reading

Underrated Mohnstad moments

I feel like there’s a lot of forgotten moments about Chriseva or even things that some people don’t know about :

- When he wanted her to send him nudes (ok, i’m still not over it).

- When he keeps looking at her when he invites the girls to the Halloween party.

- When he calls her “ sweetheart” and say he wants to help her “ take her panties off” (fuckboy af).

- The fact that he remembers her after the party where they met, although she forgot about him (pretty sure he likes her since the beginning even if he was a total drittsekk back then).

- Absolutely NOTHING will beat the iconic Evak eyefucking scene but in 1x04, the way he undress her with his eyes from accross the room before he goes talk to her is just so hot.

- When she says to him that she is a psycho stalker, like Derek in OTH (ok, i have to admit this show is so bad but it didn’t stop me to scream like a fangirl when Eva mentionned it).

- The wink at the Christmas Party (i’m so weak).

- The fact that he seems to be the mysterious guy who fingered her in the taxi after the bus party in season 2.

- In 3x10, when she plays with the zip of his shirt in the background.

Monsta X Reaction #17 - You sleep in a shirt with another members name on it

@virtualt asked: Reaction from BTS EXO and Monsta X when they see you wearing a shirt with another member’s name on it to go to sleep


Hyunwoo: -minhyuk’s name on your shirt-

Shownu: “Did you give my Y/n a shirt with your name on it…?”

Minhyuk: “Yes! Doesn’t it look so cute? It’s nice to feel supporte-”

Shownu: *gif* “Shouldn’t they be supporting their boyfriend more than you?! That should be my name!” -unusually jealous for sure-

Originally posted by bunnywonho

Hoseok: “You have an I.M shirt?? Wah~ That’s so cute! Your friendship is so strong!”

You: “You aren’t angry at all…?”

Hoseok: “No, I honestly can’t blame you. I love the other members a lot too and I know you’d never cheat on me because we have a good relationship. I love that you’re showing support, it makes me happy.” -smiles-

Originally posted by ew-wonho

Minhyuk: -it wasn’t a bit deal until you started fawning over how amazing Hyungwon is. That’s when he ends up being super jealous-

“Hyungwon is cute but he’s not as sexy as I can be!! Why did you buy his shirt and not mine?? Do I have to make you say my name again and again until you realize your mistake?”

Originally posted by beastdw

Kihyun: “Fine. Wear Wonho’s shirt all you want. I still have chicken even though I apparently don’t have you. Chicken is all I need now.”

-salty AF for weeks or until you give that shirt away/throw it away-

Originally posted by kihyuon

Hyungwon: -hardcore teases you- “OI SHOWNU COME HERE AND SEE Y/N’S SHIRT! I THINK SHE HAS A CRUSH ON YOU!!” -dies laughing at your embarrassment-

Originally posted by ew-wonho

Jooheon: -he’s looking at the shirt after you changed the next morning, not realizing until that moment that it has Shownu’s name on it-

“WHY DOES THIS SAY HYUNWOO?! SHOULDN’T IT SAY JOOHEON???”

You: “Babe, it’s an old shirt before I even started dating you.” -pretend you’re minhyuk in this gif going to hug him-

Jooheon: “NOOO HUGGING ME WILL NOT MAKE THIS BETTER”

Originally posted by lostinmonstax

Changkyun: “Well I don’t really like it but I love Jooheon a lot too so… I can’t really blame you for buying his shirt.” -a little pouty, teases you about it whenever he’s feeling a little insecure about it, but lets it go soon-

Originally posted by wtfmace


A/N: they’re so cute TT.TT

Bound I

A/N: “Can you do one where you find out you can talk to someone through your head and it turns out to be Harry?“ THIS WAS SUPER FUN! let me know if you guys want me to continue. Enjoy!

 It’s not typical for Y/n to bring guys home after a night out…that’s not her style. She’s old-fashioned and prefers to exchange numbers with a lad, maybe go on an actual date before she gives him a taste. But that’s most nights.

   Tonight, she’s internally vowing to never drink again as she lets the hands of this stranger explore her figure, his lips leaving kisses on any area of exposed skin. Her hands leave his soft, blonde locks to reach down and find her keys. As fun as this is, she could definitely do without the feeling of her back being pressed up against her cold door. Her hearts racing at the excitement of it all but in the back of her mind lies a bit of guilt. He’s not even her type; she hopes he isn’t getting the wrong impression.

   Once inside, he pushes the door shut for her. They kick off their shoes and stumble their way into the cozy living room of her loft. They finally come up for air after what seemed like the world’s longest make out session. She uses this time to pull her tight dress down, kicking it out of the way. The fellow, whose name she can’t remember, finishes unbuttoning his shirt before he drops it behind him. 

Hey sits down on the couch and not too long after, Y/n straddles him, grinding down on his bulge. She can feel herself getting wetter with every rotation of her hips.


Meanwhile, a few miles away…

“Another shot!” Harry hears. He sighs but can’t hide the smirk that creeps on his face as he picks up his second shot of the night. He takes it fast “God, that never get easier” he coughs. His friends pat him on the back, being proper dicks about one measly shot.

“Atta boy, Styles!” 

  What they don’t know is, he slyly told the bartender to fill his glasses with club soda. Yes, he was lying to his friends but he didn’t feel like hearing their whines about him being “No fun!”. He’s having a good time, he really is but he’d just rather be at home right now. He doesn’t really like going out so often, he always seems to find himself mentally exhausted and annoyed with the atmosphere. 

“I’m gonna head out” He tells his friends, they try to convince him to stay and have just one more shot and as much as he would like to keep tricking them into thinking he was actually getting hammered, he just wants to get home. “Guys really I’m just-”

His thoughts are interrupted.

He hears what sounds to be a woman moaning which normally wouldn’t surprise him in this setting. People tend to do nasty shit in clubs like this but it sounded so close; almost like he had headphones on. He brushes it off until it happens again. He knows he probably looks insane, touching his ears and looking around like a crazy person.

“Ahh…I’m so wet” The voice whimpers. He can feel himself getting harder by the second. It’s times like these he wishes he wasn’t so easy to excite. He could literally just overhear someone talk about breasts and before he knows it, he’s stiff down there.

His eyebrows furrow and he quickly covers his erection, obviously not wanting anyone to see. He bids his friends goodbye before rushing out of the club and to his car which isn’t too far from the building. He’s thanking his lucky stars for the parking spot he chose. Harry gets in and rests his head on the steering wheel, trying to will this boner away. He’s still utterly confused but his main mission at the moment is to relax enough to drive home. He can deal with it there. 

Then, as clear as day, he hears the moans again. He whips his head around to the backseat of his car because it sounded that close. There’s nobody there. It doesn’t stop, and it certainly isn’t helping his raging hard-on, which he can now feel leaking in his trousers. “mmm” it continues “Fuck”


At Y/n’s

“Fuck” she moans, her nameless friend ruts his covered member up as she grinds down harder on him. She soaking now and just wants to feel him inside her already. She unbuckles his belt and slides off of him so that she’s lying her back upon the couch.

Back to Harry

He sits there, scared but also frustrated. He convinces himself that he’s hearing voices because he’s so horny…or maybe the bartender slipped him some actual alcohol. He fumbles with his belt, looking around the dark lot to make sure there aren’t any bystanders that could potentially witness him at his absolute worst. 

He finally frees his cock, it springs up and smudges a little pre-cum on his black button down. It’s real now…the fact that he actually just got hard for no reason. “Why the fuck is this happening” he groans. 

Y/N

“Why the fuck is this happening?” She hears. She pushes her hands against the man’s chest so she can look him in the eyes. “What do you mean?” She giggles. 

“What are you talking about?” He replies before lining his head up with her slit. “You just asked why this was happening”. The look on his face tells her that he has no idea what she’s talking about. She laughs it off, saying that she probably heard her neighbors or something. 

He pushes in, filling her up with one stroke. Her eyes close at the sensation and she forgets all about what she was just concerned about. Her nails rake his back and she arches into him, shifting the angle slightly.

“Yes! Right there”

In Harry’s Car

“Yes right there” 

Harry is going mad at this point, labored breathing and flushed skin. His eyes are shut tight, jaw locked, he’s as red as a tomato and he doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. He’s successfully fighting the urge to just scream out until he hears another purr.

“Deeper” She sighs. Its the last straw for him. Harry bangs his balled up fist against the wheel 

“STOP! SHUT UP!” He roars. Only then, does the silence win. He listens for it…nothing. Its gone. He clears his throat and finally looks up and out of his car window. Standing there is a group of friends who seem to be walking into the club. They’re staring at him like he has three heads and he may as well. To Harry, that would be more manageable than hearing voices in his fucking head.

Y/n

“STOP! SHUT UP!” She jumps and accidentally knocks her forehead into the one right above hers. “Ow fuck!” He sits up and rubs the afflicted area. 

“Well, that’s what you get! Why would you yell at me like that?!” She asks as she stands up and wraps herself in the small blanket that was folded over the arm of the couch. “What the fuck are you-…you’re crazy” He muttered. He pulls his clothes back on, not caring to button up his shirt. Y/n doesn’t respond, she just stands there and waits for him to collect his things. She knows she isn’t losing her mind, it couldn’t have been the neighbors. It was so close, she can literally still feel her ears ringing. Maybe its best if he does leave.

“All I wanted was a fuck and I got stuck with a fucking psycho” He chuckled. He slams the door behind himself.

Harry

He’s almost to his flat now; the car ride is silent, he doesn’t feel like hearing anything right now. Anything. He’s just glad that whatever that was, stopped and that his hard on is at a mild throb now. He can just tug one out in the shower tonight.

Then the unthinkable happens. He hears her again. This time, it sounds like she is…talking instead of moaning. He pulls into the nearest gas station to get a better listen. He might as well ease drop if its going to keep happening. 

Y/n’s Loft

Y/n decided to call her best friend, Elena and tell her about what the fuck just happened. She wants to get a second opinion and make sure she isn’t actually crazy.

“So…I swear, at first I heard him ask why it was happening and he acted like he didn’t say anything”

“Wow what the fuck? Did it sound like him?” her friend pressed. “I mean.. not really but it just sounded like it was right there.” Y/n started. “I’m not gonna lie, it sounded a little rougher than his voice. I think that’s part of the reason I freaked out, it kind of turned me off” She joked, Elena laughed along with her


Harry

Harry’s eyes had widened. He’s pretty sure that whoever he’s hearing is talking about him. So they could hear him too? He still doesn’t understand any of this but he feels slightly relieved knowing he isn’t completely alone.

“I think that’s part of the reason I freaked out, it kind of turned me off”

“Hey!” he whines before quickly covering his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say anything, it just came out. What she said kind of offended him, seeing as girls often tell him his voice is sexy and sensual.

Y/n

“Hey!” She heard. It was the voice again. She looked around her living room, her first thought being that someone had to be in her house. And of course she’s still standing in only a blanket, so if there is some robber in her home, he’ll probably try to take advantage of her. She told Elena she would have to call her back, she was too distracted to really hear what she was saying anyway. Maybe it was stupid to get off of the phone at a time like this but she just needed to think clearly and listen for the voice again.

“Hello?” she whispered

“….uhm…hello?” she heard. She screamed and ran for the door, still in only a blanket. She stopped when she heard the voice scream as well, sounding just as scared.

“Jesus! Fuck stop screaming you scared the shit out of me!” she heard. Only now does she realize that the voice is coming from within; she just ran across the loft and its still right in her ear.


Harry

“I scared you?! Who ar- what is this?!” She spits out. Harry runs a hand through his hair, putting his cell phone up to his ear to hide the fact that he’s talking to himself just in case anyone decides to look at him.

“I don’t know. I really don’t but I’m just glad I’m not the only one” he sighed. “Or maybe I am and this is just a delusion” He chuckles, everything is so fucked up but he’s always been the type to find the humor in serious situations.

“Ok” Y/n starts. “Let’s just…let’s figure this out together”

Smoulder- Epilogue

Summary: Remember when this was a oneshot and it turned into a 160k fic which took almost a year to write? Lol *sobs because it’s over*

Read on Ao3/ FF.Net

Smoulder- Epilogue

“If you don’t stop twitching your leg, I’m going to break it.”

Adrien paused at Nathanael’s warning. A brief pause. A second’s pause.

He tried to contain himself. He really did.

A moment later, and completely subconsciously, he began to fiddle with his seat tray.

Nathanael groaned.

“Sorry, sorry,” Adrien apologised hurriedly, fully aware of just how irritating he was being. “I’m just nervous.”

Nathanael grinned at that.

“Really? Nervous?” he replied, tone as dry at the recycled plane air surrounding them. Quietly, he folded his own tray open, so that he had somewhere to sketch. “I had no idea banana-boy.”

“Don’t be mean tomato-head,” Adrien whined, flopping face-first onto the tiny plane window. “I’m trying my best to not be a pain.”

“Do or do not, there is no try.”

Eschewing his own internal dilemmas, Adrien shot up, a sunlit beam brightening his face.

“You quoted it!” he cried, throwing his arms around a reluctant Nathanael. “I knew you liked Star Wars! I knew it!”

“I never said I didn’t,” Nathanael responded coyly, tapping his pencil to Adrien’s nose before bringing it to his mini-sketchbook again. Overcome by curiosity, and a need for distraction, Adrien took a quick peak at what he was drawing. A fluffy tail. Some kind of wolf maybe? Or a fox? Maybe a cat? Adrien wasn’t sure from the angle he was staring. “I just didn’t have any interest in seeing it before being made to by my roommate. My roommate who is, inconceivably, nerdier than I am.”

“Did Louis know? I bet he would’ve had something to say. Or shriek. Louis shrieks a lot,” Adrien mused, scratching the back of his head as he was still restless. “Well if he doesn’t your secret’s safe with me. What happens in London stays in London.”

“True- and you know it’s never come up. The Star Wars thing,” Nathanael replied with a small smile, his eyes distant. It was a look Adrien had come to know well over the past year. He’d dubbed it Nathanael’s ‘dream face’.

Having realised the horrendous London rent prices were worse than that of Paris (how was that possible?) Adrien had quickly asked Nathanael move in with him and his friend had jumped at the chance. Adrien couldn’t blame him, he’d seen Nathanael’s old place. The mould on the wall had looked like a demented clown and it still gave him nightmares.

They’d been roommates the entire year.

Keep reading

Alone With You

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: smut, implied drinking, could be classified as implied cheating, sorta angsty

Word Count: 1,055

Anon Requested: Could you write a Dean X reader (smut) for Alone With You by Jake Owen? Thanks!

Prompt: Dean has never know Y/N’s life, but sometimes she shows up at his apartment, and he just can’t tell her no. She always leaves before morning, and every time she leaves Dean swears he’ll never do it again, but he does.

Originally posted by deangifsdaily

It had happened before. It had happened quite a few times before and every time Dean swore it’d be the last. It usually happened when she was a little tipsy; a little freer than usual. Dean could always taste the whiskey on her lips when they kissed for the first time again.

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It had been going on for a while. Rival papers, rival journalists. Clarke would get the tip, Lexa would arrive first at the scene – or vice versa. She rather liked it when it was her getting the story first, but her victories were just as frequent as Lexa’s.

There had to be a traitor in her office – there was one in Lexa’s after all, with Niylah feeding Clarke scoop after scoop just as soon as Lexa got word of them. Was Lexa flirting with one of her co-workers too? The thought was… oddly unpleasant.

Of course, there were the times when their rivalry, known (and barely put up with) by all, took a slight… detour and things between them would heat up in a very different way than usual.

Even though she would never admit it to anyone, those were the times Clarke revelled the most. Those were the times that made losing a few first hand stories almost worth it. Lexa didn’t need to know that, though.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

The voice, softer than her own, pulled the corners of Clarke’s lips up into a smile. She lay her chin on the chest underneath her, blue eyes playfully meeting green ones.

“Thank God none of our friends know about this,” she admitted, placing a soft kiss between Lexa’s breasts. “Raven and Octavia would tease me endlessly.”

To Clarke’s surprise, Lexa didn’t smirk; she frowned. “You haven’t told your friends about us?”

Clarke laughed and got off of Lexa, opting to lie down beside her. “What, like you have?” The deepening crease between those striking jade eyes was answer enough and she didn’t know how to react. “There is no us, Lexa.”

Suddenly Lexa was up, throwing covers off her lithe body and searching for her clothes among the jungle of Clarke’s bedroom floor. Clarke, in turn, was utterly confused, taken aback by Lexa’s sullen behaviour.

“Where are you going?”

“What does it look like, Clarke?” Lexa snapped as she pulled pants up to her waist. “I’m going home.”

“Why? We were just relaxing, I don't– what the hell is wrong with you?”

Lexa finished buttoning her shirt and heaved an exasperated sigh, turning to Clarke with a cold gaze.

“I get it, Clarke. We are rivals, we steal each other’s stories, and then we fuck to keep the adrenaline pumping.” Lexa’s voice was as gelid and stoic as her eyes. “It’s just curious that you still see it as that when we have been staying the night for over three months.”

Feeling exposed all of a sudden, Clarke sat up and pulled the blankets up to cover her chest. “We agreed that it was easier if you caught the morning train to your place,” she said defensively.

“I’ve got a drawer in your wardrobe, Clarke!”

“Not my fault you leave your clothes here all the time,” the blonde shrugged.

Lexa’s eye roll was worthy of some Olympic back flip medal or something. Were there Olympic medals for back flips? Clarke didn’t really know a lot about sports.

“You call me aloof and emotionally constipated, but I am not the one who keeps believing those easy ways out after three months of mornings after,” Lexa claimed, a hue of hurt in the rainbow of feelings in her voice.

Clarke was at a loss for words, so she said the first thing that came to mind. “We fuck. What’s the big deal about that?”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, for Lexa just turned away with a huff and walked out, making sure to slam the door as she left.

*

They hadn’t talked for a month. Lexa had been keeping her distance: not coming any close to her stories, leaving Clarke alone to make the most of her own scoops. It would have been paradise, if not for the gaping absence of teasing remarks, insufferable smirks – any words at all. Clarke kept trying to steal some scoops for herself, but Lexa was relentless, never letting Clarke win.

In a fell swoop, Clarke had lost her fuck buddy and her rival. Every time she got to a place, Lexa would either be long gone or never show up at all. Journalism just wasn’t as fun anymore.

Clarke had loved the whole enemies/lovers dynamic, sleeping with none other than your greatest rival. After every hustle, they would fall into bed together, releasing their frustration and satiating their rivalry in each other’s arms, mouths, fingers. It was something Clarke had never experienced before.

Clarke was snatched out of her thoughts by a binder falling violently on her desk. She looked up to find Octavia glaring at her.

“What now, O?” Clarke asked impatiently. “Too much paperwork for your lazy ass?”

“Wow, Lexa really left your panties in a twist,” her brunette friend chuckled dryly. “Can you two please go back to fucking?”

Clark’s bewildered gasp and choke would have been funny if not for the situation they were in. “You know? she choked out in a spluttering mess.

“Of course I do,” Octavia frowned. “We all know Lexa lets you get half of her stories and then you two go home and fuck each other’s brains out. Or, well, did. Now you two just mope around like you lost your favourite candy.”

The knowledge that Lexa was doing just as bad as her gave Clarke an odd hopeful feeling. “She’s moping?”

“Of course she is. How would you expect her to react to a break up?”

“This was not– We weren’t even together.”

This time, Octavia laughed heartily, taking more than a minute to gather her bearings and turn to Clarke with a mocking expression.

“Sweetie, like or not, you two were dating for the past three months. You don’t do the morning after with someone you don’t care about.”

There it was again, the morning after. Clarke didn’t understand what relevance it had to the case. “I still don’t know why the morning after seems to be so important,” she grumbled.

Octavia just shook her head in disbelief. “You may be blonde, but you’re not blonde, Clarke. Don’t lie to yourself just because you’re afraid to face the truth.”

*

Clarke was determined to get this right. This story was Lexa’s, Niylah had promised, and she was going to get there fast enough to catch the brunette before she could leave.

She would also steal the story, but that was another story. Pun fully intended, Clarke decided in that moment.

When Lexa showed up, she was the image of beauty. Long brown curls tamed in a ponytail, her face was clean and open and probably what heaven looked like. Emerald eyes didn’t hide their owner’s shock to see her.

“Clarke,” Lexa half breathed, half gasped, eyes wide and lips parted.

Clarke had to remember the speech she had practiced at home, in front of her mirror, like a romantic loser.

“Lexa, I– Can we talk?”

Lexa eyed her suspiciously, but eventually agreed, with a discreet nod of her head. They headed to another room, making the interviewee wait for its five minutes in the limelight.

“What do you want, Clarke?” The hostility of Lexa’s tone made her flinch. She had a lot of explaining to do. “I will not go back to the way we were before.”

“I know, I know,” Clarke rushed to say, promising her memories of Lexa writhing under her that she would give them full her attention once she got home. “I don’t want that either.” At Lexa’s frown, she ploughed on. “I don’t want to go back to the way we were before, because I want so much more. I thought what we had was just an easy rivals with benefits situation. We would do the rivalling during the day, fuck during the night. You kept clothes at my place so no one would ever see you leave with the clothes of the day before on. In the middle of all the lying I did to keep myself from panicking, I forgot to realise that you started staying the night because I asked you to. And it went on for three months because I wanted you to. And I would ask and want you to stay the night because I needed to fall asleep and wake up next to you, because there is no greater feeling in the world than that of spending every hour of your day with the person you love.”

Lexa’s eyes were wide like saucers, but Clarke couldn’t stop now.

“That’s the other thing I forgot,” she admitted, her voice small. “I forgot that slowly but surely, I was falling in love with you.”

Lexa pressed her lips together pensively, letting the silence stretch before she broke it. “Why didn’t you tell your friends?”

“The same reason for all my other fuck ups: I was afraid. Telling them would mean they would be able to give me the advice I was dreading: that all those mornings after did hold meaning after all and that I couldn’t hide from my feelings anymore.”

Lexa nodded this time, still not making a sound. “Will you tell your friends now?”

Clarke couldn’t help but smile. “Already have.”

Another nod. “Are we still rivals?”

“You’re as much my enemy as when we started this whole thing.”

Lexa was sporting a small smile now, a crooked little thing that Clarke had always found adorable. “I would not have it any other way.”

“But Lexa, now you’re also my best friend and… If you give me the honour… My girlfriend.”

Lexa’s shy smile turned into a smirk. “Only if you admit that Polis is the superior newspaper.”

Clarke didn’t even gasp. “For you, I would quit the Arkadia.”

Lexa’s amused smile, however, showed she was just kidding. “No need. Wouldn’t want to end the rivalry, would we?”

In that moment – and the moment after, when she finally got to get reacquainted with Lexa’s lips –, Clarke knew that she wanted all the mornings after and the nights during and the afternoons before.

She wanted everything with Lexa.

anonymous asked:

Supercorp: Lena decides to get a tattoo of Kara's crest in a very intimate area. Healing time is twelve weeks. Kara wonders why Lena doesn't want Kara to touch her. Kara always means to ask but Lena distracts her by satisfying her until she's seeing stars.

Lena sat down and winced slightly; she realistically had known how much a brand new tattoo would hurt, but she still found herself slightly unprepared for just how tender she currently felt. She found herself questioning her sanity for the fourth time that afternoon for deciding to get the rather small tattoo, just below her bikini line.

Every time she moved, the tiny House of El crest ached and made Lena suck her breath in rather sharply.

She had been told that the tattoo would take twelve weeks to heal, which seemed reasonable enough, until Lena remembered she wanted the tattoo to be a surprise for Kara, which meant her girlfriend couldn’t see her without her knickers for twelve weeks. That, Lena decided, was going to be an issue.

That evening, Kara flopped onto the bed next to Lena, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her fingers started trailing patterns over Lena’s stomach, occasionally dipping under her top to dance across the bare skin.

Lena placed down her book and turned her head to face Kara, a smirk on her lips, a quip on her tongue, but found her lips suddenly pressed against Kara’s. Lena deepened the kiss, her tongue swiping across Kara’s lips to gain entry. Kara shifted slightly, her knee moving between Lena’s legs, which caused Lena to still momentarily as she remembered her new tattoo.

In one decisive movement, Lena rolled, gently pushing Kara back onto the bed and moved to straddle her hips. Lena slowly drew her top over her head and grinned at the way Kara drank in her form. Kara moved to sit up, to undo the buttons on Lena’s trousers, but Lena took Kara’s wrists in hers.

‘Uh uh’ she tutted and moved Kara’s hands away from her, ‘let me look after you darling.’

Kara grinned, assuming she’d be able to return the favour, and settled back as Lena slowly undressed her, kissing each piece of newly revealed skin.

She convulsed as Lena nipped at her abs, and squirmed as Lena trailed kisses from her navel, lower and lower until Kara let out a small gasp as Lena ran her tongue over her clit.

Kara tangled her hand into Lena’s hair, her head rolling back against the pillow as her girlfriend continued to gently tease her with her tongue.

She looked down and locked eyes with Lena, who raised an eyebrow and brought up two fingers, slipping them easily into Kara.

Kara moaned as Lena set up a slow pace, fingers pumping at a deliberate pace to keep Kara on the edge, while slightly increasing the pressure with her tongue.

Lena continued this pace, waiting for Kara to ask for more, to beg for more.

‘Pl… please Lena’ Kara eventually relented, ‘I need more.’

Lena sped up her fingers, curling them as Kara panted above her. She felt the grip in her hair tighten and Kara’s thighs clench as Kara’s hips bucked, riding Lena’s face.

Kara came with a loud cry, repeating Lena’s name over and over again as her orgasm shook through her body.

Lena didn’t let up and continued to flick her tongue over Kara’s clit, coaxing her through her second orgasm.

As Kara’s body convulsed for the second time, Lena crawled her way back up the bed to scoop the twitching Kryptonian into her arms.

‘Gimme five mins’ Kara mumbled, ‘and I can return the favour’

‘Just sleep darling’ Lena chuckled, stroking Kara’s hair.

Less than five minutes later Lena heard low snores from beneath the blonde curls strewn all over the pillow.

Lena found that she could keep up the same pattern of behaviour over the next few nights, but feared Kara would call her out on it soon enough.

Thankfully Lena was able to distract Kara for a few weeks; diverting her attention from the fact Lena hadn’t let her touch her in two weeks. It was simple enough at first; she made sure to wear Kara’s favourite bras; the ones that pushed up her breasts and encased them in lace.

She had to get slightly more inventive when Kara questioned why Lena kept wearing her more risqué underwear, but she wasn’t a genius for nothing, and distracted Kara by providing a rather sensual lap dance.

Massages had also been used to ensure her tattoo remained a secret, but Lena was starting to feel guilty about not telling Kara, plus she was only three weeks into the twelve it would take to heal; she wasn’t sure she would survive that long.

Kara had picked up that there was something Lena was keeping from her, but she couldn’t lie; she was loving all of Lena’s distraction techniques. After all, there was no way she was quizzing Lena when she was dressed in a black lace corset with a garter belt.

Kara debated using her x-ray vision, but decided that if it was serious enough, Lena would have told her.

Finally, Lena’s tattoo healed and Lena was ready to cry with relief. As she hadn’t allowed Kara to touch her, Lena hadn’t let herself come at her own hands. She was frustrated beyond belief and couldn’t wait to show Kara her tattoo.

Kara landed on the balcony of Lena’s penthouse and followed the dim flickering light to the bedroom. Upon entering, she discovered Lena laid out on the bed, wearing only one of her checked shirts, bathed in candlelight. Her skin was luminescent as the candles scattered around the room flickered.

‘There’s been something I’ve wanted to show you for a while…’ Lena started.

‘Does this have something to do with why I have had, in my estimation, roughly a thousand orgasms in the past twelve weeks?’ Kara questioned.

‘You noticed…’ Lena bit her lip.

‘I’m not complaining!’ Kara grinned.

Lena smirked back and slowly lifted the bottom of the shirt to reveal she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Kara gulped.

Lena continued to raise the shirt until it was high enough to show the small crest tattooed on her lower pubic bone.

Kara stepped closer to take a look and looked up at Lena, eyes wide. ‘Is that..?’ she questioned.

Lena nodded.

‘Can I..?’ Kara didn’t finish the sentence; instead her fingers hovered over the black ink.

Lena nodded again.

Kara gently ran her fingers over the small tattoo, looking up at Lena again when she whined at the contact and her hips bucked slightly.

Kara giggled at the reaction her fingertips had caused, but stifled it when Lena cocked an eyebrow.

‘It’s been twelve weeks Kara; twelve weeks in which I have been unbelievably turned on, but not let myself come…’ Lena stated seriously.

‘You’ve not even touched yourself?’ Kara asked incredulously.

‘I thought that would be a little hypocritical as I was not letting you touch me…’ Lena reasoned.

‘You’re so wet…’ Kara marvelled as she slid her fingers down a little further, running them through Lena’s folds.

‘Twelve. Weeks.’ Lena husked at Kara slipped two fingers into her and quickly sought to bring her to release.

It didn’t take long until Lena was wrecked; panting, writhing, begging Kara to fuck her; fuck her deeper, fuck her harder.

Kara obliged and Lena toppled over the edge, Kara’s name on her lips.

Kara spooned Lena as she shuddered through the aftershocks of her orgasm, her fingers trailing down Lena’s body until they were ghosting over the tattoo.

‘Do you understand what this means?’ Kara whispered, unsure if Lena was aware of the full implications of having her crest permanently etched into her skin.

‘It means I’m yours forever’ Lena stated simply.  

anonymous asked:

How about a simply ridiculous prompt? Winteriron, with the first time Tony farted in front of his bf. And he's mortified- Bucky is his first boyfriend, who is more experienced with the dating scene but who is sticking with Tony for some reason?? And Tony is sure that he's screwed this up now, that Bucky will be beyond disgusted. Ofc Bucky is no such thing and reassures Tony (after laughing his ass off/some other reaction). XP

This work can be found on my Ao3 here. Guess who deviated from the prompt again!!! Who is surprised tho. With some side Stevetasha because apparently I ship that now. Watch out for under the cut!


“When did Natasha start farting in front of you,” Bucky asked, frowning, as he fiddled with Steve’s oil pastels.

Steve slapped his hand away, setting down a red pastel and grabbing a gray one instead. “Stop it. I have those in the order I want.” He turned back to his easel. “And Natasha doesn’t fart in front of me.”

Bucky stared at him in disbelief. “…You’ve lived together for three years.”

“I’m not even sure she poops.”

“What the fuck, Steve.” Bucky turned as the door to Steve’s apartment opened. “Natasha, you poop.”

Natasha paused in the act of pulling one of her ballet flats off, still halfway through the door. She instead chose to stare at him silently in a mixture of disbelief and offense. Bucky could admit that it was not exactly unwarranted.

“Steve wasn’t sure.”

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anonymous asked:

i bEG you for literally anything regarding amren and varian. the fandom seems to hate them and i don't to feel bad for shipping them??? so pls write anything smut or fluff (or both pls) i would appreciate and love you greatly.

  • Sometimes Varian doesn’t know whether or not to be scared of Amren, or turned on. She’s so small and fierce, and he’d be lying if he told anyone he didn’t have a kink for women half his size. He doesn’t know why he has the kink, he just does. 
  • When Amren puts on one of his shirts, he LOVES how it’s so big that it looks like she’s wearing a bed sheet.
  • Sometimes when she get’s sassy with him, he just throws her over his shoulder. She HATES it—but secretly loves it. She’s so used to everyone being so scared of her, that she likes being manhandled every now and then. And when he tosses her over his shoulder and slaps her ass—IT’S ON.
  • Varian made Amren a stool for the kitchen and the bathroom. He made them by hand from wood he salvaged from an old ship. When she first sees them, she acts utterly indifferent. She doesn’t care. But later than evening, he catches her in the bathroom examining the glossy finish. She stands on it to get something from the medicine cabinet, then when she gets off, she makes sure the buff any footprints off the finish.
  • Varian is a hummer. He hums all the time. And sometimes he gets really into it when he’s working. And by working I mean wood working. Varian can build anything, but he loves carving sculptures. So one day Amren hears him humming and she is just watching him, listening to him hum. And she doesn’t know why, but she starts humming a new song that adds to his. And before they both know whats happening, they’re making up words and singing. Actually singing. When it ends they agree to never tell anyone that it happened. 

I didn’t realize how much I would love this until I started writing this! Also what is this ship called? Varren? Amrian? I have no idea. Someone help me.

The Things That Made Bubbline My AT OTP (Redux)

Go With Me

So wait, the Princess has a first name and Marcy is the only one who calls her that!

Originally posted by adventurers-blog-of-ooo

What Was Missing? 

She looks so worried when she got hurt 

Does Marcy think she’s pretty?

WHY DOES THIS SONG SOUND LIKE A SAD BREAK UP SONG!? 

Originally posted by lbncrz

They keep showing Bonnibel when she was singing this song. She was like pissed off that it was about her 

but at the same time she was all “You… you still like me?”. WHY ISN’T THEIR A EP BACKSTORY ABOUT THESE TWO YET!?

“I never say you have to be perfect!” - Princess Bubblegum. Omg, this really proves they like each other! 

Originally posted by zelderonmorningstar

The way Marcy is looking at her! 

THEIR TOO CLOSE TO EACH OTHER!!!

Originally posted by kittymarshmellowbunny

Whoa, Marceline looks really worried that Finn might take Bonnie away from her

So Bonnie’s most prize possession is Marceline’s rock shirt and she wear it all the time as pajamas,

It made Marceline blush,

Originally posted by adventuretime-gifs

Burning Low

Why does it feel like she’s referring this to Marceline? 

Originally posted by marcymania

Sky Witch 

Bonnie also sniffs it,

Originally posted by aart-angels

AND IT EVEN HAD MORE FEELINGS THAN HAMBO!? LIKE I’M QUESTIONING ON HOW MUCH DOES SHE REALLY CARE FOR HER!?

Originally posted by zelderonmorningstar

Varmints

She’s really worried of what happen to Peebles 

Originally posted by charlesoberonn

She looks so worried when PB lost her kingdom to King of Ooo

So she is referring it to Marceline back at Burning Low where PB is telling Finn about “Responsibility Demands Sacrifice” It makes a lot of sense becase she used to have time to hangout with her but her kingdom kept on growing, leaving her to push her away, so she could protect her people. I’m trash 

Best duo 

Originally posted by nacapito

She hates when she cries

Originally posted by bytesofbubblegum

She just called her handwriting pretty and she likes it. SHE LIKES IT!

Omg, she’s apologizing to her for leaving her and even said “I pushed you away”, just her and no one else. GLOB DAMN THIS IS SO GOING TO CANNON!

And then Marceline comfort her and she made her open to others.

MY SHIPPER HEART!

Originally posted by incrediblyfickle

Adventure Time Mini-series Stakes 

She looks so happy when she’s riding on Batceline in the opening

Originally posted by birdblinder

Bonnie will be the one to bury her to the ground 

Originally posted by imadeadwalker

Finn got DENIED! 

Originally posted by harryllewellyniv

Bonnie is holding Marcy when she was dying from poison

Originally posted by peppa-peggy

She’ll kick someone ass to save her

Originally posted by regressionsimulator

She’s even stressing out that Marcy was dying. Also she was dying in her arms!

She’ll be one to bury her to the ground but not yet

Originally posted by expertinawkward

Marcy is actually dreaming about being with Bonnibel. Also the dress represent funeral or even WEDDING in Korea 

Originally posted by themysteryoftheunknownuniverse

There’s no word to describe how gay this scene is

I really hope they’ll be a backstory episode them soon or later!

Originally posted by zelderonmorningstar

And then Bonnibel helped Marceline to grow up

Originally posted by ericthatguyyouknow

The Thin Yellow Line

THERE HAS TO BE AN EPISODE ABOUT THEIR PAST SOON OR LATER ON SEASON 7!

Broke His Crown

I can’t believe Marceline invited Bonnibel to have dinner with her and the Ice King 

Originally posted by regressionsimulator

Bonnie just called her “girlfriend”, 

just like Korra said to Asami and look how did that turned out!

Originally posted by restingdadface

She’s holding her hand

Originally posted by vampyrphiles-sea-of-ships

Bonnie will try to get along with the Ice King for her!

Marcy is cleaning Bonnie and she doesn’t mind

Originally posted by antesdachuva

Marceline just made Bonnibel blush again

This looks like Bonnie is having dinner with her GF and her “dad”

I can’t believe Marceline let Bonnie rant in front of Simon and she smiled

When Simon ask that Bonnie has a boyfriend, she admittedly said “no”.

And then Bonnie smiled! 

Bonus 

Wtf, is Marcy singing about Bonnie because there’s an image of her and it looks like from the episode Sky Witch 

And at the end of the music video, there’s two people with long hair, holding hands and watching the sunset together which looks like to me it’s her and Bonnibel

For this LGBT month, I’ve decided to post this again but more evidence. I still hope that this will become cannon becuase of the many moments they had and it’s pretty convince that they should be together. With each season 7 has shown many interaction between these, so I’m hoping this will finally make it happen. I also hope their will Bubbline moments in The Music Hole. Also I’m trash and I hope this will be cannon!