do not listen to follow you into the dark while reading this

When I was nine, possibly ten, an author came to our school to talk about writing. His name was Hugh Scott, and I doubt he’s known outside of Scotland. And even then I haven’t seen him on many shelves in recent years in Scotland either. But he wrote wonderfully creepy children’s stories, where the supernatural was scary, but it was the mundane that was truly terrifying. At least to little ten year old me. It was Scooby Doo meets Paranormal Activity with a bonny braw Scottish-ness to it that I’d never experienced before.

I remember him as a gangling man with a wiry beard that made him look older than he probably was, and he carried a leather bag filled with paper. He had a pen too that was shaped like a carrot, and he used it to scribble down notes between answering our (frankly disinterested) questions. We had no idea who he was you see, no one had made an effort to introduce us to his books. We were simply told one morning, ‘class 1b, there is an author here to talk to you about writing’, and this you see was our introduction to creative writing. We’d surpassed finger painting and macaroni collages. It was time to attempt Words That Were Untrue.

You could tell from the look on Mrs M’s face she thought it was a waste of time. I remember her sitting off to one side marking papers while this tall man sat down on our ridiculously short chairs, and tried to talk to us about what it meant to tell a story. She wasn’t big on telling stories, Mrs M. She was also one of the teachers who used to take my books away from me because they were “too complicated” for me, despite the fact that I was reading them with both interest and ease. When dad found out he hit the roof. It’s the one and only time he ever showed up to the school when it wasn’t parents night or the school play. After that she just left me alone, but she made it clear to my parents that she resented the fact that a ten year old used words like ‘ubiquitous’ in their essays. Presumably because she had to look it up.

Anyway, Mr Scott, was doing his best to talk to us while Mrs M made scoffing noises from her corner every so often, and you could just tell he was deflating faster than a bouncy castle at a knife sharpening party, so when he asked if any of us had any further questions and no one put their hand up I felt awful. I knew this was not only insulting but also humiliating, even if we were only little children. So I did the only thing I could think of, put my hand up and said “Why do you write?”

I’d always read about characters blinking owlishly, but I’d never actually seen it before. But that’s what he did, peering down at me from behind his wire rim spectacles and dragging tired fingers through his curly beard. I don’t think he expected anyone to ask why he wrote stories. What he wrote about, and where he got his ideas from maybe, and certainly why he wrote about ghosts and other creepy things, but probably not why do you write. And I think he thought perhaps he could have got away with “because it’s fun, and learning is fun, right kids?!”, but part of me will always remember the way the world shifted ever so slightly as it does when something important is about to happen, and this tall streak of a man looked down at me, narrowed his eyes in an assessing manner and said, “Because people told me not to, and words are important.”

I nodded, very seriously in the way children do, and knew this to be a truth. In my limited experience at that point, I knew certain people (with a sidelong glance to Mrs M who was in turn looking at me as though she’d just known it’d be me that type of question) didn’t like fiction. At least certain types of fiction. I knew for instance that Mrs M liked to read Pride and Prejudice on her lunch break but only because it was sensible fiction, about people that could conceivably be real. The idea that one could not relate to a character simply because they had pointy ears or a jet pack had never occurred to me, and the fact that it’s now twenty years later and people are still arguing about the validity of genre fiction is beyond me, but right there in that little moment, I knew something important had just transpired, with my teacher glaring at me, and this man who told stories to live beginning to smile. After that the audience turned into a two person conversation, with gradually more and more of my classmates joining in because suddenly it was fun. Mrs M was pissed and this bedraggled looking man who might have been Santa after some serious dieting, was starting to enjoy himself. As it turned out we had all of his books in our tiny corner library, and in the words of my friend Andrew “hey there’s a giant spider fighting a ghost on this cover! neat!” and the presentation devolved into chaos as we all began reading different books at once and asking questions about each one. “Does she live?”— “What about the talking trees” —“is the ghost evil?” —“can I go to the bathroom, Miss?” —“Wow neat, more spiders!”

After that we were supposed to sit down, quietly (glare glare) and write a short story to show what we had learned from listening to Mr Scott. I wont pretend I wrote anything remotely good, I was ten and all I could come up with was a story about a magic carrot that made you see words in the dark, but Mr Scott seemed to like it. In fact he seemed to like all of them, probably because they were done with such vibrant enthusiasm in defiance of the people who didn’t want us to.

The following year, when I’d moved into Mrs H’s class—the kind of woman that didn’t take away books from children who loved to read and let them write nonsense in the back of their journals provided they got all their work done—a letter arrived to the school, carefully wedged between several copies of a book which was unheard of at the time, by a new author known as J.K. Rowling. Mrs H remarked that it was strange that an author would send copies of books that weren’t even his to a school, but I knew why he’d done it. I knew before Mrs H even read the letter.

Because words are important. Words are magical. They’re powerful. And that power ought to be shared. There’s no petty rivalry between story tellers, although there’s plenty who try to insinuate it. There’s plenty who try to say some words are more valuable than others, that somehow their meaning is more important because of when it was written and by whom. Those are the same people who laud Shakespeare from the heavens but refuse to acknowledge that the quote “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them“ is a dick joke.

And although Mr Scott seems to have faded from public literary consumption, I still think about him. I think about his stories, I think about how he recommended another author and sent copies of her books because he knew our school was a puritan shithole that fought against the Wrong Type of Wordes and would never buy them into the library otherwise. But mostly I think about how he looked at a ten year old like an equal and told her words and important, and people will try to keep you from writing them—so write them anyway.

episode one :: Yuuri Katsuki is the most beautiful disaster that Victor has ever met in his entire life, and Victor has built his empire on beautiful disasters.



Victor isn’t sure he knows what he’s doing anymore by the time casting rolls around for season 22 of The Bachelor.  Okay, he knows what he’s doing, but it’s all autopilot.  He’s got a dossier of Chip Vanderbones and Tad Hardbeefs to look at, but is almost resigned enough to just give into Lilia and Yakov’s suggestion to cast Georgi Popovich, notorious histrionic Bachelorette season 10 runner-up, as this season’s lead out of sheer notgivingafuckness.  At this point Victor isn’t even sure whether he really wants to be in this game at all anymore, but what the hell else he would do besides sleep for a thousand years if he retired before thirty?  

And then Phichit Chulanont comes into his office to distract him during a conference call with Yakov to tell him a story about his friend who just crashed and burned at the Figure Skating Grand Prix Finals, and everything click click clicks into place: redemption narrative.  Twenty young men are going for the gold, but only one can win the heart of Yuuri Katsuki– he can hear the promos, see the character arcs unfold, and the narratives rush through him like they’ve always lived inside him and it feels–exciting.  

“Phichit,” Victor says suddenly, interrupting Phichit and grabbing him from across his desk.  “We have to get him.  He’s our next bachelor.”

“Oh my God,” Phichit replies, eyes widening, and then again, “Oh my God.

“Do you think you could get him?” Victor asks.  He’s seeing figure skating dates, thematic destination shoots in Chile and Finland and Iceland, “The Bachelor: Love on Ice” title screen flashing over two champagne glasses on the lip of an outdoor hot tub.  

“Do I think I can get him,” Phichit repeats dismissively, looking the closest to offended that Victor has ever seen him.  “What do you think you hired me for, Nikiforov.”

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tips for high school freshman:

1. i know, i know. this is terrifying. you’re going to be dealing with many huge changes. but change is good. remember that.

2. try not to blend in. i know its easier but you wanna make some friends, right? you probably want to make good relationships with teachers too. stand out. be remembered in the best ways possible.

3. work hard. strive to be the best. stay up late studying, take notes, ask questions, stay after class, do whatever you can to achieve you’re goals. prove to yourself and everyone around you that you are capable of amazing things.

4. participate. speak your thoughts in group discussions. join clubs. play sports. don’t be afraid. you deserve to be noticed and listened to.

5. stay organized. use planners, label everything, color code, make files on your laptop, don’t keep unnecessary tabs open, and make sure you’re not a mess too.

6. try and make friends. i know how difficult its going to be but you’ll need them. talk to the people on your cross country team, talk to the art kids in first period, talk to the weird kid sitting next to you in assembly. just try and make friends. you need people, no matter how much it seems like you don’t. you will not be able to survive this alone.

7. study. make flashcards, copy notes, use quizlet, i dont care just study. your phone can wait an hour or two.

8. make sure your bag is fully stocked. y’know like extra change, deodorant, hand cream, pads, chapstick, etc. you never know what could happen.

9. its okay if you don’t talk to your old friends anymore. you’ll be okay. so will they. but if you ever find yourself needing to talk to someone, don’t hesitate to text them. they will listen.

10. take a warm shower every night. wash your hair twice a week. drink a glass of milk every morning and a glass of water every night. have a cup of tea while studying/doing homework. reward yourself with an episode of your favorite show. self care is important.

11. make sure to read and write daily. prioritize it.

12. don’t be afraid to express yourself. if your school has a strong arts program, use it. paint, sculpt, draw. find inspiration and create.

13. stay focused and don’t stray from your expectations.

14. find ways to stay motivated. decorate your desk, buy cute notebooks, imagine how far you’ll go by doing well in school.

15. mentally make a daily schedule to follow. repetition is comforting. while everything around you is changing faster than you can blink, take comfort in the fact that your morning routine stays the same.

16. school comes first, but try to make time for your friends. both old and new. you deserve to have some fun. but don’t feel bad if you’d rather stay home with a tub of ice-cream and a season of some netflix series.

17. there will be bad days. days when it seems like you can’t get out of bed. days when it seems like stress is the only thing you’re feeling. days when you just want to give up. but you have to fight through it. have a cup of tea. read that old book you love. watch some netflix. take a break. it’ll all be okay.

18. they’ll also be days when you miss your old life with every bone in your body. on these days, text your old friends. maybe schedule to hang out. or maybe look at old pictures and videos and reminece on all the fun times you had together. don’t feel sad for too long. many more joyous memories will be created.

19. time heals everything. when days are gloomy and your heart is a lil heavy, remember that there is nothing that the passage of time cannot fix.

20. try to finish all your homework before dark. open the windows. welcome the fresh air and let the sunlight motivate you.

21. spend time with your family. you only have so much time left with them before college, don’t waste it. put down your phone, and just enjoy their presence. 

22. relativity is everything. i know it seems like one thing is the end of the world, but take a moment to zoom out. you’ll realize that some things are not big as they seem.

23. be fearless. take big steps. this is your time.

—  throughout my freshman year i wrote tips down to help myself. i hope this helps others as well.
“A Secret That’s Worth It” Carl x Reader, Negan x Reader

Word Count: 9,670

Negan x Daughter Reader, Carl x Reader

Summary: You’re Negan’s teenage daughter and from the minute you saw Carl, he sparked your interest, leading to a relationship between you two.

Warnings: Language, fluff, angst, mentions of death, kinda smutty 

A/N: Does not follow the show exactly, I had to change up some things for the sake of the story, but I tried to make it as close as possible.


Originally posted by lets-letmeimagine-posts

Originally posted by lets-letmeimagine-posts


He was the first person you noticed when you stepped out of that RV.

He was wearing a flannel and a cowboy hat, and even with one of his eyes covered up and it being dark out, you could see how bright blue they were. You didn’t know his name, but you certainly were attracted to him.

Your father, Negan, had told you to stay inside the RV while he went out there and talked to them. He had told you that he was going to kill one of them and that he didn’t want you to see that, so you needed to stay away.

“Y/N, I do not want to see you out there. Your ass better stay in here, alright?” Negan had warned you. You didn’t listen. You had heard him talking to their group, and you got curious. All you wanted to do was see what they looked like, nothing more. You opened the door slightly and peeked your head out, making the attractive boy turn his head and look at you. They all did, but he was the only one you noticed.

“Dear daughter, did I not tell you to stay inside?” Negan bellowed. You knew he was trying to scare the group- that was his way of being a big, bad leader. He intimidates everyone. And by the look of everyone’s face, they were definitely afraid.

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She’s Just Not That Into You » Part II (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

Miss the first part? Find it here.

Once again, this miniseries is dedicated to @stylesunchained​. I love you, B! This time around, the ever-so-lovely @chrissy22787​ helped me out, and I thank you - immensely - for that, my dear friend. 

Let me know what you think! Happy reading.

Originally posted by cinemagraphs

Even if Nick did piss him off, Harry couldn’t help but be proud of his best friend whenever he was awarded opportunities. He worked hard, and it was nice to see that hard work pay off in the end. So, when Nick mentioned that you were having a viewing party for his appearance on The Big Fat Quiz of the Year, Harry feared that he wouldn’t be able to celebrate the milestone with him.

“Ask her,” he demanded one afternoon.

Nick laughed, his eyes widening at Harry’s insistence. After little pleading from his friend, Nick sent a text asking you if Harry could be his plus one for the dinner party. Once he’d sent it, Harry forced Nick to show him the text for proof, figuring that it was just like him to say he’d asked you when he didn’t, instead showing up to the party with Harry anyway, thinking it was funny to throw both of you for a loop. Nick’s phone dinged minutes later, your name lighting up the screen. Your response of “Sure.” had caused Harry to go into an existential crisis, the wrinkle in his brow deep as he pulled at his lips.

“She doesn’t want me there,” he grunted. “‘m not goin’.”

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Writing is Hard, pt 8: Slow and Steady

Summary: Dean shows you his favorite kind of sex.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Warning: Smut, dirty talk

Word Count: 3100ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO

The motel door opens quietly and you hear Dean shuffle in, his footsteps easy to recognize. You don’t move, body too exhausted to even roll over in bed and say hi.

Sam has to know that Dean comes to your room every night now. Actually, Dean just goes straight in with you now more often than not, leaving Sam to himself. You’ve never discussed it, but you suspect that Sam’s silence on the matter of you and Dean is his thank you for finally having some privacy on a regular basis.

Either way, you aren’t remotely surprised that Dean is here. You listen to boots being kicked off, a gun being placed on the night stand, and clothes being shuffled off. He’s down to his boxers when he slides beneath the covers.

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TEMPERANCE - SLAVE KNIGHT GAEL

(Spoilers for the end of the Ringed City below, beware!)

We’re not sure exactly how long Gael has been on the road, in pursuit of the Dark Soul to bring back to the nameless painter, but we’re certain he’s been around for an extremely long time. He has always been an unassuming knight, a slave, fodder to the bleakest battles. But Gael has something truly special in the world of Dark Souls: purpose. He has always found purpose to carry on and move forward. Patiently, one step at a time. His determination is so great he was one of the few who has made it to the very end of the world, where everything crafted by gods and men has turned into ash. Gael’s final quest was a terrible one that would consume his own life. Regardless, he persisted, until he was able to find that which would corrupt him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take on this quest alone. As such, he guides us throughout the Ringed City, guides us to find him, so that we may fulfill the promise he made a very long time ago.

The Temperance card reflects that you have a clear, long-term vision of what you want to achieve. You are not rushing things along; rather you are taking your time to ensure that you do the best job you can. This card also reflects a higher learning in what you are doing and demonstrates that you are learning a great deal on your journey. You are at peace with what you are doing and it is all coming together very well. Your inner voice is guiding you gently to the right outcome and you are patiently listening and following. You have a very balanced perspective on the situation at this time and you are in a very good position to make the right choices. Temperance asks you to be patient so that you can act with timing and precision. Patience and moderation will result in good management of all things. Do not feel that you need to rush, just let the situation evolve at its natural pace.

Below are some cryptic updates regarding the project. Read on if you’d like!

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Body Language (One Shot)

A/N: This was a request from @ihavetwobuckystomyname a very long time ago, and I’m super sorry that this took so long to write, hun! I hope you enjoy it! There’s a song that goes to this as well and it’s right here if you wanna listen!

Body Language - Reader and Bucky have been in a relationship for a while, and she’s ready to take the relationship to the next level. But Reader has a small problem: she’s deaf. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Deaf Reader 

Warnings: Smut. Language. Slight mentions of past neglect. Bucky being adorable. NSFW!

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Imagine - Protective Tony x reader

Originally posted by alberto-rozende

@vivi-ccw Request: “Tony and the reader are close friends and during the situation with the tapes the relationship grows into love? and that Tony is always really protective when someone tries to flirt  with her or yeah I don’t know something like that maybe 🙈🙃”

You and Tony had been best friends since you two were only children, which is understandable considering that the two of you were neighbours. Your parents would always bring you over to Mr. and Mrs. Padilla’s house for play dates with their son. Which is how Tony and you became inseparable. You told Tony everything, he was your shoulder to cry, your light in a dark room. Tony was your sun, he brightened up your life and made everything seem more bearable. As long as you had Tony beside you, you could conquer anything.

And right now you really needed Tony, and Tony really needed you. Because Hannah Baker, your friend, one of the sweetest girls that you have ever had the pleasure of meeting, had just killed herself… And you had no idea how to cope with that. You’re not really sure if Tony knew either, but he seemed strong on the outside. He was always so cool and collected that it was hard to depict what he was feeling.

The night Hannah killed herself, you were at Tony’s. The two of you were cuddled up on the couch, watching a horror film. The two of you saw Hannah walk up Tony’s drive way and leave something at his door. But at the time, you thought nothing of it, ‘if it was important, she would’ve knocked, right?’ How wrong you were…

Tony opened the door to pick up the box that Hannah left on his door step, a couple minutes after she left, and the two of you read the note that she left.

Hannah was going to commit suicide.

The minute that you read that, you and Tony rushed outside to his car and sped to the Bakers household. But you were already too late… You saw them drag Hannah’s body out, saw the devastated and heartbroken looks on Mr. and Mrs. Baker’s faces. You felt sick. Knowing that you could have somehow prevent all of this from happening. If you would’ve  opened the door when Hannah came to drop of the tapes… She could’ve still been alive right now…

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Frat Boy Pt. 9

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6,  part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8

IT’S BEEN TOO LONG FRATTY FRIENDS! Literally - Six. Months. Or longer. Here’s the RECAP if you need to catch up on your infuriating frat boy shenanigans in a fun and easy fashion! It’s been a while, and we’re learning about Harry now… be fragile with him. As always, please tell me your thoughts after reading! It takes a moment but when I feel people are involved in this project it motivates me to continue with it. Anyways, I’ve already kept you waiting long enough…Thank you for sticking with us. ENJOY! xx

18 Morning View Drive

Coast Hills, CA

Then, exactly an hour and thirty minutes later:

7 pm.

Those were the only things Harry had texted you. Just the address.

“I don’t even know if I want to go anymore,” you whined, looking at your phone once more before tossing it on the bed. “He clearly hates me and doesn’t want me to go.”

“I thought you told me he said you could though!”

“Only because it sounded like he had to! His sister was practically forcing the words out of him.”

Renny cringed. “Sister…Yeah I’m sorry, I’m still not over it.” You groaned at the reminder and she sighed in response. “Okay listen, just be yourself! Try not to hate him.” You felt your eyebrows rise higher than hairline.

“And this is coming from a girl who loathes him more than her entire being?”

She rolled her eyes. “I just think he’s an entitled asshole, but you clearly don’t otherwise you wouldn’t be going to the dinner. Now, nude pump or suede bootie?” She held up the two shoes she was gracious enough to let you borrow and you bit the inside of your cheek. You did think he was an entitled asshole, but… you were curious. So undeniably curious and how many girls could say they went over to a family dinner at the Styles’ house? Not that that was your primary reason for going but…

“Uh, Y/N?” she prompted.

“Bootie,” you said quickly, snapping yourself out of further self-analysis.  You weren’t sure if you liked the boy, but you were definitely… interested. Renny went to the closet and came back with two dresses.

You shook your head.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re a little…fancy.” You bit your tongue, not allowing ridiculous to form. You shook your head.

“Yeah it’s a family dinner. Jeans will be fine,” you reasoned. You plucked your favorite denim from the drawers and Renny gasped as if you’d smacked her across the face. “And a t-shirt,” you added with a smirk. She gasped louder and clutched her chest.

“No no no no no. No!” She raised her finger to you, stalking to the closet again, the cocktail dresses abandoned to the floor. “If you’re wearing these booties you’re at least wearing a blouse. God, who are you?” She plucked a peachy top and a blazer from the inside of the closet, but you snatched the blazer from her hands and put it back on the hanger, opting for the cream sweater instead.

“I want to be comfortable, not looking like I’m going to a business meeting ya dingas.” She snorted at the term and you pulled her in for a hug, clinging to her for a moment. She always seemed so soft and you weren’t sure if it was the Victoria’s Secret body lotion she used or if she was just blessed with naturally smooth skin.

“Renny?” you mumbled against her chest, arms still securely wrapped around her.

“Yeah?”

Your mind raced with hundreds of questions. What were you doing? Was this absolutely stupid? How do you know if you like someone?

“Your boobs are comfy,” you finally sighed. You knew she couldn’t possibly give you explanations for any single one of those things. She wasn’t exactly a love guru, but she was entirely the best at texting and the art of flirting.

“Thanks. Niall thinks so too.” You squeezed her tighter before it registered what she’d said. “Gross,” you mumbled, letting go with a laugh.  You only let her put the bare minimum makeup on you and she was just finishing up with a coat of mascara when there was a knock on the door. She stopped.

“I thought you said he wasn’t going to pick you up.”

You shook your head. “He isn’t. I’m driving.” Renny paused, listening, as if she’d be able to hear what was going on just beyond the door. The mascara wand was set on the bathroom countertop and she crept to the door. You weren’t under any illusions that he would swing by your place beforehand so you weren’t going to bother wasting precious energy on “what-if”s, though your heart still picked up its pace in expectation. The door creaked open at the last swish of the mascara wand.

“Niall?”

Expectations you didn’t want in the first place fell when you heard her voice raise in pitch. Of course it wasn’t Harry.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Thought I’d stop by.” His satisfaction at having surprising her was evident in his smug tone and you tip-toed out, not having had a proper one-on-one with Niall since the night of the party.

“You alone?” he whispered to her.

You saw Renny shake her head before you took a step out. A bit of guilt hit you thinking about the spontaneous kiss, but it was so long ago. I mean, you were going to Harry’s house tonight and Niall just came for some one-on-one time with Renny. At this point the kiss just seemed…a bit irrelevant. Renny faced you as if to gesture “see! Not alone” and his blue eyes focused on you as if nothing had changed. But then they did.

“Oh, hey Y/N, what’re you doing here?” he shrugged and shifted his weight. Renny was oblivious to the awkward shift.

“Um, I live here?” you crossed your arms, brows furrowing a bit.

He thought it over but for a second before he shook his head, lips quirking up in their innocent schoolboyish charm. “Right. Must be tired or somethin’.”

“Or somethin’” Renny teased. Niall poked her sides and she twisted out of reach, only leaning back again to smack him playfully across the chest.

“Alright love birds, I’m headed out. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye then,” Niall said, arm already sneaking around Renny’s waist. She mouthed an “OMG” to you at his display of affection while you tried not to vom. But when the door closed shut you couldn’t help but think about how natural it seemed for his arm to wrap around her waist.

—–

“OH GEE, THANKS for putting on your BLINKER - not. ASSHOLE!” you shouted, almost wishing your window was down and that the pompous senior citizen wearing ray bans at night could hear you. Since you were a decent and intelligent human being you put on your blinker and switched lanes, trying to follow Siri. Grandpa was driving a Porsche and he cut you off only to go 5 miles per hour. Your 1990 Chevy Cavaleir was driving faster than that and he thinks he can cut you off just because he has a better- you exhaled hard through your nostrils.  No. He wasn’t worth it.  You’d left in plenty of time, 30 minutes early actually, even though it’d only take about 20 to get there.

The only problem was your phone was verifiably ancient and your navigation was the slowest thing known to man. Once you’d gotten off the freeway, you’d made three wrong turns because your navigation was being ditzy and not telling you how close 600 feet was. And now the entitled drivers of Coast Hills decided you’d be okay with them cutting! you! off! Your hands squeezed the steering wheel a little too tight.

The ocean hugged your side on the highway for another five minutes, but each glimpse you tried to steal to it was futile. It was dark, an expansive pitch-black body stretching as far as your eyes- well, couldn’t see. It left you with a chilling feeling as you turned up the winding hills to the mansions waiting at the top. They were nestled all along the drive up, though hidden by hedges and various gates, and at the very tops all you could see were their lights already glistening, making the hills twinkle with light. Perhaps tonight they could see the water better from their perch above, but a part of you doubted it. No matter which way you tried to look at it, darkness somehow refused to be penetrated.

But you bet it looked gorgeous when the sun came up.

In 200 feet, make a right on Coast Hills Drive.

“Shit,” you cursed, quickly getting in the right lane and ignoring the honk of a horn. You didn’t have time to put on your blinker and as soon as you slammed on the accelerator to turn, you were slamming on the brakes. The iron gates were intimidatingly high and the guard that hopped out of his security room didn’t look amused. A mounted sign read “Coast Homes” behind a trickling waterfall that fell against a stone wall and massive palm trees stood beside it. And then there was you.

A knock on your window practically had you jumping out of your skin.

“Are you lost?” the guard asked. It looked as if his mouth was already open to give you directions, hands raising to point you someplace else, but you shook your head.

“No, not lost.” And his mouth closed at your words, hands quickly dropping to his sides and confirming your suspicions.

“Are you here to see someone then?” he prompted.

“Harry. Uh, Harry Styles.” A slight buzz ran through you saying those words. You were here to see him. You were actually invited to the Harry’s house. Oh god, what if you saw his bedroom?

His eyes narrowed a bit at the name.

“I mean, I’m here to see his family?” you suddenly clarified. As if it were necessary. As if he wouldn’t believe that you were here to see him alone. It didn’t make it much more believable though.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

He looked to the back of your car to check the license plate and you felt a twinge of annoyance. “Pull up then.” He used two fingers to beckon you forward before quickly jogging to the security room. You stopped closer to the gate and he scrolled through the computer with a furrowed brow, clucking when he found your name. “You’re here.” But it sounded like “wish you weren’t.” The heavy mechanics of the printer and a dull screech sounded as something printed, and he plucked a sheet of paper from the machine, holding it out to you.

“This is your pass. It’ll last until tomorrow in case you spend the night so don’t worry about tickets or anything like that as long as this is properly displayed on your dash.” He tapped your windshield as if you weren’t aware where your dash was located and you smiled.

“Thank you, it’ll only be for a few hours- tops.”

He nodded and then, as if you were old friends and he was admitting you into a secret club of his, said quietly, “Their visitors don’t usually last too long.” He straightened up instantly, his moment of gossiping weakness vanished with his once-again professional posture. He gave you a nod. “Have a good night!” The gate opened and you called out a quick thank you before entering the most brilliant display of wealth you’d ever seen.

Lawns were perfectly manicured as you passed, some opting for Mediterranean fashions and others expansive Spanish villas with imported tropical plants. Most cars you assumed were inside of the mansions in their garages, but the ones that weren’t inside weren’t any less impressive. “Ferrari, Porsche, oh! Tesla,” you muttered. It was like all the fancy cars you’d ever seen in passing on the highway had the same destination. Here. You stopped counting how many you saw on your hand when you got to 14. And the houses… they were the largest you’d ever seen. They were more like hotels than mere houses.

You’d seen glimpses from below, and recalled the many times you’d stare up at them dreamily on late night cruises to get back home from work, the lights beautifully transforming the hilltops and making you feel like it was an early Christmas. From below you seemed to forget how massive they would be in person.  How they hinted at lives being lived just out of reach. Staring at them up close now, you somehow felt they were even more so.

Make a right on Morning View Drive, then, in 500 feet, your destination is on your right.

You swallowed hard despite yourself as you turned right, suddenly thinking that Renny’s idea of a dress wasn’t that ridiculous of an outfit. But it was too late now, especially when you drove down a street just as manicured as the rest, but somehow seemed wider. The streets alone…They were about twice- no, three times the size of your own in width. And the houses were separated far from each other, far enough that one property easily took up the space of four large houses. You tried to zero in on the numbers along the houses – only to realize they were hidden. By gates. More gates? What were they hiding in there, the Crown jewels?

Your destination is on your right.

Your body jolted forward as your twitchy legs hit the brakes too hard and your car started drifting forward again as your foot relaxed.

Another jolt to stop before you ran into the mailbox.

You couldn’t see a number, but you didn’t think you had too. Forget the other houses - this was the largest home you’d ever seen, fitting for how well known the Styles family was. It was a Spanish Mediterranean style mansion with golden lanterns adorning windows and balconies…and this was just what you could see from what was rising above the iron gate surrounding the property. It sat prominently in the middle of the street, both intimidating and more striking than any of its neighbors, and the largest too – your gaze ran all the way down the gate; it took up the rest of the street until the end of the hill where it’d drop off into a deep valley and eventually run straight into the ocean. You’d seen that view from the highway a thousand times, but it was different to be on the other side of it now. You knew the Styles were rich, but you didn’t think they owned an entire coastal hilltop.  

You awkwardly repositioned the car and drove up to the callbox, but paused, looking to your purse hesitantly. Should you just call Harry on his cell? You rolled your eyes and leant out to press the little call button and the buzz that instantly droned in the air made your hand recoil in a snap and left your mouth suddenly very dry. This was real. This was happening.

Awesome.

You swallowed hard, trying to convince yourself you shouldn’t peel out of his driveway and drive straight back home to Renny and your ducky pajama shorts.

The droning stopped, and a long high-pitched beeeeeep sounded, which triggered the gates. There was muffling on the other end of the line as the iron gates started peeling back, and you could’ve sworn you heard a voice say, “Is that her?” Your hands were mildly shaking as they reached to put the car back in drive, from fear? Excitement? Admittedly, a bit of both.

You drove up the cobblestone drive through a yard lush with tropical plants that had to have been imported, but your gaze was quickly stolen by the resort-like property you’d be entering at any moment. Columns stood tall and the encased chandelier emitted a warm glow where the intricate glass doorway stood. The click of your booties walking along the cobblestone seemed loud as you walked to the front and tentatively raised a hand to the door. You knocked softly for fear the intricate glass would break, though it did seem expensive and thick enough…

You looked back to the only car in the driveway – yours. Their cars were probably hidden and well-kept from the elements in one of the three garages you’d parked in front of. The dent you’d received from last year’s fender-bender was still obvious even in this dim lighting. The crickets seemed peaceful tonight.

“Welcome!”

You turned sharply at the high-pitched voice to see Gemma. She held a full champagne flute in her hand, and leant a bit on the dark wood rim of the door, looking every bit as beautiful as you’d remembered – more so, now that you saw the cocktail dress she was wearing.

“Hi!” you mirrored her enthusiasm.  She ushered you in, not noticing it was a mere mask for how totally unprepared you felt. “Was I, uh, was this like a formal occasion?” you whispered, eyes darting down the long hall. The blank stare she gave you made your anxiety about being the most awkward human bean rise to new levels.

“What, formal?” Gemma looked baffled for a moment. “Oh! No, not at all. All my other clothes are dirty and I’ve been refusing for Sven or Eli to do them.” She took in your lost eyes. “The house maids- or, housemen? Not sure which,” she clarified. Her eyes quickly darted over your cardigan and jeans. “You look wonderful by the way. Dinner’s only just begun, I promise.” You smiled warmly at her, suddenly becoming aware of the chatter and silverware scraping the plates. A grand piano sat in the entrance, and there was a surprising amount of marble for the Spanish exterior of the house. Chandeliers lined the tall ceilings all the way down and some orchestra music you weren’t sophisticated enough to name filled the air.

She started walking down the hall, and you trailed behind her, your heart rate accelerating from the anticipation of seeing Harry in his home. It sounds weird, but you’d never been able to picture him at a proper house, with a family, with a childhood really… just the fraternity.

“Y/N is here!” She called out just as she turned the corner. Seven pairs of eyes locked on you and you instantly tugged on your sleeves. Especially when you only recognized two. Harry sat beside the head of the table, his eyes locked on the plate of food, and a surprise. Sorority Viv was beside him. You wanted to scowl, but you tugged the sleeves of your sweater down instead.

“Hi,” you put up a hand and braced a smile.

“Well we didn’t think you were coming,” a woman said. Her blonde bob looked strangely familiar and Harry’s eyes snapped to her when she spoke. Even from here you saw them harden.

“Oh..uh,” you looked down at your watch. 6:55. “I’m sorry, I thought dinner started at 7.”

“You’re fine dear,” the man at the head of the table assured. Mr. Styles you assumed. He had kind features and softened wrinkles by his eyes when he smiled like now. He was like a George Clooney and, even though he had gray hair, he was tan and somehow it was fashionable. But something was off.

“It was meant to be 6,” she noted, and her pearl necklace jostled as she leant over and placed her empty glass of champagne on the table and beckoned you to the seat in front of Harry. “Well come in! Please,” her voice sounded sincere but the thin smile radiated about as much warmth as a frozen potato. Gemma squeezed your shoulder as she passed and sat at the next empty one a few chairs down. You pulled yours out next to a fair-skinned boy with light dull brown hair and he offered his hand. It was like porcelain, so it was a little unnerving when you grasped it and found he was actually warm.   

“Charlie,” he said, and you realized he was the boy you saw kissing Gemma.

“Y/N,” you smiled. You looked across to Viv and did the same, and she returned it, if a little unwilling. She looked to Harry again, who’d busied himself more with food.

“Hey,” you said, but it was into the void, his eyes elsewhere probably looking at the thousand dollars worth of décor – your embarrassment was swallowing you up until Viv nudged him. He looked up, eyes distant, and they locked on your own for only a second.

“Hi.”

It was mortifying.

“So-” Charlie cleared his throat- “You guys are mates then I reckon?”

“We’re not sure what they are,” Gemma piped in.

“What do you mean?” Viv asked, looking to Harry.

“Yes, what do you mean?” Mrs. Styles suddenly halted the conversation at the other head of the table with the couple beside her. Harry’s face morphed into a scowl.                               

“Gemma,” he warned.

“Mary, please,” Mr. Styles sighed.

“Harry,” Gemma and Mary spoke at the same time.

“So!” Charlie let out a nervous laugh. “The chicken’s really good isn’t it?” He forked another bite into his mouth and you were envious you couldn’t do the same. Just like that, a gloved hand reached down and gingerly set down a china plate with the juiciest piece of chicken and capers you think you’d ever get the privilege of eating.

“Thank you,” you looked back to the kitchen help before he could disappear, black and white uniform and all. “You have a lovely home Mr. Styles. And Mrs. Styles.”

“Oh honey my mother-in-law is Mrs. Styles. I’m Mary, and he is Lionel.” Her voice was bubbly like the champagne she twirled around, but so was her friendly tone – full of air.

“Oh, okay.” You busied yourself with picking up the silverware before stealing a glance to Harry. His demeanor was different than usual, eyes glued to his food, cheek sucked in as he lightly gnawed on it. He was still, but .. sad? No.

…despondent?

“Did practice tire you out?”

His eyelashes fluttered at the sound of your voice and he looked up, lips pursing just the slightest. It was a miracle he hadn’t ignored you.

“No…”- a brief lift of his shoulders, a shake of the head, then- “No,” he repeated, forking a piece of chicken into his mouth.

“Yeah, you have been awfully quiet-OW,” Charlie began coughing and Gemma threw him a glare.

“Harry’s never quiet.”

“And how would you know that?” Harry suddenly snapped to life and the room dropped by ten degrees. She raised the napkin neatly to her mouth before slowly tucking it below her.

She took a deep composed breath.

“Oh please Harry,” her oddly placed laugh made you tug your sweater tighter to your body. “I’ve lived with you long enough don’t you think?”

“Long enough? Yeah I completely agree.” A sarcastic half grin spread across his face and something tugged within you that made you want to kiss it away. You heard yourself thinking and it made you sick. Kiss? KISS??!

You stuffed another bite in your mouth.

“So Y/N what’s the story here?”

You look up, cheeks full. Mr. Styles – Lionel, laughed a bit at the sight and his laugh didn’t make you want to cringe into your sweater like his wife’s. “Sorry darling, I’ll let you finish.”

You swallowed a little too fast.

“What are you studying here? How do you know Harry?”

“I’m majoring in Biology, but we’re in English class together.”

“Biology! I’ll drink to that,” Lionel lit up and raised his flute.

“Lionel’s the best doctor in Southern California.” Mary crossed her heart, and Lionel shook his head lightly.

“She exaggerates.” Her eyes narrowed slightly at his comment, but he continued, “If you ever need an internship or if you want to come visit one day…feel free.” He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out an extremely thick, extremely white business card as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “So… just class?” He gestured between you and Harry once more.

“Well, he’s also quite a good soccer player so I’m pretty sure the whole school knows him.”

“I wouldn’t say the whole school,” Harry started, but his eyes were fixed on Lionel and the way he broke into an easy smile.

“So we’ve heard. We’ve seen him play once or twice, haven’t we?” He looked to Mary who nodded. She soundlessly raised the napkin to her mouth again but she didn’t speak. “Yeah, he’s quite good.”

“Really good,” Viv crooned.

“Could you pass the water please?” Gemma asked.

“What?” Mary arched a thin brow.

“The water,” Gemma repeated.

“Water,” Lioinel mimicked the accent and broke into a smile. “You can’t ever leave Gemma, it’s decided. I’d miss your voice too much.”

Something snapped in you. He lifted the heavy vase of water effortlessly and passed it on to her, oblivious of the gears turning in your head. The accent.

Mr. Styles didn’t have one.

And neither did Mary?

“You don’t have accents?” It was out before you could stop it and the table fell silent. It was one of those awful moments when everyone’s brows were squished and slow side glances were given. And a nauseating feeling spread through you when you realized you might have said a very wrong thing. Viv nervously looked to Harry.

“What do you mean?” Mary asked.

Harry cleared his throat. “I mean, technically we all have accents.”

“He’s right,” Gemma said, pointing her fork.

“But you’re…are you British?”

“I am!” Charlie said.

“Yes you idiot,” Gemma nudged him, and Lionel laughed a bit before shaking his head.

“No darling, we’re from here. Born and bred beach bums.” He threw up the shaka sign in true dad-fashion but Mary tipped her champagne flute back.

Harry snorted.

“Never say that again.”

“Why am I embarrassing you?”

Harry didn’t bat an eye.

“Oh come on…Charlie smiled.” Lionel innocently looked over for support, but Charlie’s gaze was locked deep on his chicken by then.  

“You’re lying,” Harry shrugged. “You never go to the beach. Can’t be a host that lies to its guest can we?” Harry turned to you and you froze. “You don’t like liars do you? Cause I don’t.”

“What has gotten into you?” Lionel’s voice was breathless, incredulous.

The table fell silent and the two looked at each other from opposite ends of the table. Lionel set his glass down and a tint of disbelief reflected in his eyes.

“I’ve never seen you there it’s just funny to hear you say it,” Harry continued calmly.

“What’re you talking about I took you sailing all the time.”

“I’ve seen pictures!” Viv said, “Oh you were so cute in your little outfits, don’t you remember?” But her voice sounded overenthusiastic, keen to change the subject.

“Sure and how old was I again Vivvy?”

His retort was instant, the question harmless enough, but it was the way he said it that made Viv’s face instantly fall. For a moment, you even felt bad for her she seemed so genuinely hurt. Mary rubbed her mouth with the napkin so hard you weren’t sure if the red on her lips was blood or makeup. Do you speak? Make a mad dash for the door? Sorry, I didn’t sign up to be on an episode of the Housewives - gotta blast! Then you could throw the thumbs up sign to Harry on your way.

No. You couldn’t. You didn’t even dare to breathe right now.

Gemma watched wordlessly, just as much at a loss as you. More so, it seemed, for her mouth open and closed multiple times, but each time it was a hopeless attempt. Lionel rose his brows, took a deep breath, and leaned back. He looked tired.

Harry’s eyes had barely flitted over to yours before retreating again and in that brief moment you looked at him, it’s as if he realized what he’d said. His cheeks flushed, but his jaw was locked.

Okayy, someone woke up on the wrong side of his small fraternity bed this morning. But you’re welcome to come back and live with us. Have your nice king sized bed again…” It sounded like a nice offer but if you listened hard enough you could’ve sworn you detected something sharp.

“Oh funny joke Lionel,” Mary laughed humorlessly, slowly turning to you. “Harry’s always been independent.”

I wanted Gemma to reach out, to whisper a concerned Harry as a warning, because right now his eyes were dark, brewing a storm of blood rain from invisible scars he’d cut open himself. How deep did they run?

“Yes, funny, funny, that’s what we are,” Lionel said, but there was no smile on his face, he was rubbing the corners of his mouth with the napkin and setting it down on his clean plate. “Sorry about this.”

As if Harry wasn’t in the room. As if you didn’t feel as though you were in the most awkward position you could’ve been placed in, plopped in the middle of a tug of war you didn’t really remember signing up for. Were you supposed to be on a side?  

“Dinners aren’t usually like this, I don’t know why he’s-”

“I don’t know why we’re having this dinner. Are you done?” Harry asked Viv. Her plate was still full of vegetables and at least half the chicken.

“Actually-”

“Great! Are you done?” He turned to you in all his over-animation, and in his dark green eyes you felt a sudden sympathy. It wasn’t right what he was doing, but he could only be acting out for a reason. Or multiple.

Or perhaps he was a just a selfish petulant boy.

Whatever the reason there was a wild plead in his gaze and you didn’t want to disappoint.

But you were also very much aware of Lionel waiting for your answer.

“If everyone’s done, then I’m done too.” And in fact, your appetite had disappeared.

Gemma seemed close to tears, but she blinked them away and tossed her napkin. “Yes, I’m actually quite tired.”

Charlie halted his fork mid bite and with one look from Gemma he reluctantly put it down.

“Stuffed full actually,” he mumbled.

“Great, well, I’ll grab dessert.”

Mary rose with her napkin but the scrape of Harry’s chair against the wood floors made her do a sharp turn.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer as he headed to the marble staircase, footsteps loud as he jogged up them.

“Let him go,” Lionel sighed, and with it, he shrunk smaller in his chair.

“Harry!” she screeched. But he didn’t answer and with a turn at the top of the stairwell he was gone.

Everyone dispersed after that. Lionel received a conveniently-timed phone call to which he had to dismiss himself into one of the many rooms. Mary headed immediately into the kitchen but she never came back -

And then there were four.

“I’m-” Gemma bit her cheek, folded her hands. “Nevermind.”

“I think I should get back.”

Gemma looked at you understandingly, a sad sort of reluctant smile gracing her face. “Perhaps that’d be best. It was really nice meeting you though, and as much as Harry doesn’t seem to get on with loads of people, he mentioned you multiple times. I thought-” Her eyes got misty again and they glazed over the multiple paintings hanging over the dining table. “Nevermind what I thought,” she looked down to her feet but for a moment before that, her warm eyes had smiled at yours. You didn’t know her, not at all, yet somehow you could tell the warmth behind them was genuine. And you liked her instantly.

“Alright, I’ll just – I’ll head out then. Thank you so much for the dinner, it really was delicious.”

“Thanks for coming,” Charlie offered, swinging his arm around Gemma.

“Guess I’ll see you at school.” Viv appeared beside them and the unexpected head of jealousy showed its face again. Well, not its whole face. Just the tip of its nose as it peered behind the pillars of your heart, because would you really want to spend more time in there?

You were shocked when that tiny part of you said yes.

You were only halfway to your car when you heard Viv shout out.

“Wait!” You obeyed, feet halting as her fast jogging in heels made record time. She let out a breath. “Back there, what you said about the accents, it’s not like it’s a big secret, but um.” Her eyebrows slightly knitted together. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, I guess just so you don’t make it a big deal.”

“Yeah. Wait- why, did I make it a big deal? I really didn’t mean to.”

She shook her head, then stopped. Her head leaned slightly to the side and her eyes pinched as she pondered your questioned. “Maybe a little.”

She put her arm around you and steered you to your car.

“Harry’s adopted, it’s not bad that I’m telling you this because they don’t try and keep it hidden or anything it’s just – they don’t advertise it. And most people don’t ask. They just assume long-term boarding school or something. They don’t look into it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Adopted. Of freaking course.

“It was when he was young, seven or something. Uh-” She stopped, perhaps she’d said a bit too much. “But anyway it’s not that big of a deal.” But it sounded like she was trying to convince herself. She looked to you.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “Totally fine. I mean I’m sure his other friends know anyways.”

She smiled then, and stuck you at arms length. “See you later.”

After revving the engine, and drawing up to the gate, you sat there for what must have been a solid twenty seconds, throwing the engine in reverse and then approaching it again. It didn’t move. Shouldn’t this thing be automatic from the inside? You threw it in park and trudged to the front door again, but no one was moving inside the house. You tried knocking. Everyone was gone. Fantastic.

A miracle, one of the garage doors started to open and you walked closer.

“Oh good, I was about to be stuck!” you called out as the doors clicked back, expecting Gemma to return your smile from the other side. But it was dark and no one was there. You did see the shadow of three other cars though. Three very nice racecar material cars.

“Hello?” You called out. You swallowed harshly when you saw two brown booties.

“What’s going on?”

You felt like you should be the one asking him that, but you just shrugged your shoulders. “The gate won’t open.”

Harry stood expressionless before retreating to the back of the garage.

“Wait- where are you-”

The sound of the gate opening shut you up. “Oh, thanks,” you mumbled. You didn’t really know what else to say, and Harry wasn’t exactly making conversation, so you were silent as the clank of your door closed you in again. Back to reality. This night had been a disaster.

The spluttering of your engine lasted longer than usual and you stilled.

Come on grandpa!!!!

You twisted the key again but it was refusing to give you the satisfying thrum when it finally gave. You were so close!! It couldn’t give out now!!!! It could literally break down, say, in a total hypothetical situation that did NOT happen, when I’m trying to avoid human contact after being pantsed in front of hottie toddie physics professor but it CAN’T give out now.

You tried again but it failed.

And you tried again.

And again.

And again.

Harry’s figure approached the car window with a beer in hand and he took a deep swig of it before knocking on the window. You barely heard it above the spluttering but you gave grandpa a moment of silence.

You rested your head on the steering wheel before bouncing up again and rolling down the window.

“What Harry,” you sighed.  

“She’s dead.”

“I know.”

You got out and waited, crossing your arms while Harry ran into the garage to check if he had any jumper cables or whatever else he’d need to fix this. At least it wasn’t smoking.

“We don’t have any.” He sauntered over, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the car. “Can stay here if you want.”

“I can call an Uber.” You hit your phone’s lock switch but it was a black screen. DAMN you Renny for hogging the charger before you’d left. DAMN YOU. “Can’t. Can’t call an Uber. Could you call one for me?”

“Are you trying to use me for my money?”

“I- no.” Your mouth parted but it closed again. Was he for real? Was he….kidding? “I can pay you back you know.”

“Lionel won’t hear of it. He doesn’t trust Uber.”

“Doesn’t trust Uber. What is he? A binge-watcher of late night crime shows?”

“No.” An almost smile shone through and you crossed your arms.

“Well I can’t just block the gate.”

“No one’s going anywhere for tonight.” He headed for the garage again. “Come on,” he called back.

“Renny will be worried about me!”

“You can call from our landline.”

People still had those?

“Sh they can hear you these walls aren’t 12 inches thick!!” you whisper-yelled into the receiver. You gave Harry an awkward smile and twirled the cord around the vintage phone. “Mary picked it up at a Parisian market or something. It’s mainly for decoration but they got it hooked up just in case,” he’d said, only walking to the end of the hall to give you some “privacy.”

It was literally from the 1920s. You felt like a vaudevillian actress about to break into song about how she wants to live a normal life but mommy and daddy keep her locked in a tower.

“I DON’T CARE IF THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD HEARS ME YOU ARE BETRAYING YOURSELF IF YOU SPEND THE NIGHT THERE.”

“Renny- ! Oh my- ! Could you just- could you just LISTEN?”

“Let me call you an Uber.”

“Lionel already knows and they’re-” you looked over at Harry who seemed to be distracted by a painting he’s probably seen a thousand times before and you lowered your voice- “Apparently one of the maids is already making my bed.”

“ARE YOU ROYALTY NOW?! Are they going to give you complimentary chocolates in the morning?! Are you going to be giving him complimentary HEAD-?!!!”

“RENNY!”

Harry’s head whipped towards yours, but his lips were still set in his pout. You grimaced, putting your back to him and facing the end of the hallway.

“Now you have me thinking about the wizard’s wand. I literally hate you,” you grumbled.

“You know I’m joking. Well, half-joking. You can stay there if you want it’s just-” she sighed- “What is this, are you guys like dating now? Because the last I heard you were literally running away from him and wanting to punch his face in.”

“He does give off that effect. And no! We’re not-” your voice lowered more- “We’re not dating. My car’s just broken down.

“You keep lying to yourself.”

“I’m not lying to anybody.”

“Keep telling yourself that kid. Because the last time I was with you was when you were literally RUNNING away from him. But you’re going to spend the night at his house. Voluntarily. I mean geeze you’re giving the poor guy a headache you can at least suck his dick.”

She’d hung up before the words even processed.

—-

“This is the living wing, I dunno why they call it that it just makes it sounds depressing.”

“What do they mean by living?” you asked. Each word sounded heavy on your tongue, each sentence carefully constructed. It was weird to be talking with him when he clearly wasn’t in the best frame of mind. When you didn’t know if he’d snap and turn sour all of a sudden.

Though you didn’t think that’d happen. He seemed more sullen to you now more than anything, apologetic maybe, if a word like that could describe him. Think: a toddler after being scolded for something he’s done wrong. Eh? That image seemed to work.

“It’s where my dad keeps his…creatures. Birds, fish, I don’t know I never fucking go in. It’s also where their bedrooms are.” He poked his head around the hallway before muttering, “I guess.”  

“Oh okay.”

Your feet stopped following him when you met a tall window. Their backyard was….spectacular. It was dark and the twinkle lights only exposed so much, but there was a very nice long pool, tile patio with sunbathing chairs, and more green beyond it. The all black on the horizon you assumed to be the ocean.

You didn’t realize Harry was behind you until he muttered, “What’re you thinking about?”

“You know I could ask you the same question. Like at least half the time I’m around you.”

His brows squeezed together a bit but a bit of a smirk was starting to form. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Oh you do. You definitely do,” you started to laugh and back into the window to scrutinize him from afar. Because right now he had a very odd look in his eye. “You’re quiet most of the time,” you said softer. After dinner, you weren’t quite sure what was going on in Harry’s family life. But the longer the adopted word kept being tossed around in your brain and analyzed every which way, you wondered how many different dynamics existed that added or subtracted to their relationship. Take Gemma. How did she fit in? She had the accent too.

So, if you could make him smile by backing up and eyeing him like he was some sort of specimen than so be it. As much as you would’ve killed to see him unhappy a couple days ago, you’d realized you’d been a bit rash to run into conclusions. And yes, you had managed to make yourself look like an utter mentally unstable ass and a half. So you could cut him some slack. The night hadn’t been a nightmare for just one of you.

“Stop it,” he warned. But you started to circle him and you squinted one eye, putting two hands up to frame Harry’s face and the window with the warmly-lit grounds like a director choosing the shot. “Okay seriously. Stop.”

“Nope,” you popped the p, “It’s funny. I couldn’t picture you in a place like this before, but now I can.” You slowly put your hands down and you thought you heard him mumble weird.

“Oi. Did you just call me weird?” your mouth opened in playful surprise. His nose scrunched up at your over exaggerations. He was confused, you could tell. And he was probably being just as cautious as you were, you realized. You didn’t blame him. But he was so close to smiling. Soooo clooosseee-

“S’just weird,” he settled with. And his would-be smile dropped. A little bit of guilt struck you.

“What is?” you began slowly.

“It’s weird that you’re here.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Ouch.

“Why?”  

“Because I can’t picture you here.”

His voice seemed shy. He nodded towards the other end of the hall. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.” And he didn’t give you much time to catch up, nor time to feel offended, as his long legs were once again a disadvantage to you.

You weren’t sure how many bedrooms you’d been passing, and to be completely honest, Harry’s explanations of what each room was went a bit beyond you.

“Theatre’s to your right, sun room’s to the left. That’s the library over in there, elevator’s around the bend. Annnnd… here it is.”

He forgot to mention the multiple living rooms you’d been passing which had killer ocean views, or the full-on mini bars. Yes. Bars. As in numerous. You didn’t see much alcohol in them though and you wondered if it had anything to do with Harry.

“I’ll be at the other end then.”

“Of the house?”

“The hall, just there.” He pointed, and looked back at you with a funny look about him. “No sneaking into my bedroom.”

You coughed. “I’m sorry, was that a joke? A poor one but…Are you making jokes now?”

His smile faltered, but it was finally there. No matter how small or pained it looked. His eyes looked to his boots for a second before settling on your elbow, then your shoulder. Then your chin. Or was it-

“Right. Well. I’ll give you something to wear, just- stay there. Or don’t. I don’t care.” Harry turned quickly and disappeared into the last room at the hall. Your eyes grazed the hallway walls. He may not look necessarily enthused that you were there, but in this whole situation you’d felt like an outsider. And you suspected that was exactly what he needed.

Not that you held any pretenses to know what that confusing boy needed.

Not at all.

Or rather, none at all.

None were there to gather dust, to give you a glimpse into what he looked like as a toddler through to the awkward teen years. No family portraits hung. Each wall’s empty space was filled with a landscape painting of the sea, or the cliffs facing the water. Except for the power portrait of the Styles in the center of the home that looked out over their grounds - it was stark of any traces of family existence. The messy bits anyway. And instantly you compared it to your old stained carpets and walls with so many nails in it if you removed all the pictures and unscrewed the nails, you’d be left with hardly a house at all. This felt like someone had come in, staged it for a potential buyer, and that was it. Like if you opened the dresser’s drawer you wouldn’t find anything in it except for another nail or the assembly instruction manual.

You hummed to yourself, peering into your bedroom. A nice queen-sized bed and bamboo flooring. White canopy drapes covering what you assumed to be a window.  The only thing that seemed off was the ceiling. It had stars painted on it. You walked to the center of the room and looked up- there was a name there, inscribed in the center of the biggest star. You sat on the edge of the bed, twiddling your thumbs before wandering over to the ensuite bathroom. It was no less impressive.

A big part of you was wishing to be with Renny right now. Gosh you would’ve paid anything to see her face if she could only see the outside of this house. You never fared well when there was quiet, a lot of it anyway. And in a house this big, it was quiet. A little too quiet. And cold. Was the AC set to 50 or something?

Warm water ran down your face and you briskly turned the faucet off. At least Renny would be able to say “I told you so” tomorrow. Well, not about the blowjob thing. You opened the medicine cabinet to find some toothpaste, or face soap. The last thing you needed was another zit to pop through.

But there wasn’t anything of the sort. No no no.

Pills filled the cabinets. Some with labels, some without. You closed the cabinet. Definitely not toothpaste. Definitely not your business. But who were they-

“Oh my gosh!” your heart flew to your chest.

Mary was sitting on the edge of your bed, silent, hands folded in her lap. Had she seen you? The sudden adrenaline found an escape in an awkward laugh. “You scared me.”

“Oh I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.” She tucked a strand behind her ear and it wasn’t until your hip hit the door frame on the way out of the bathroom that you realized she hadn’t been looking at you this entire time. She would’ve judged you for that blunder. No, her eyes were fixed on the walls, then the ceiling.

Did she need help with something? Were you in the wrong room?

“Is this my room?”

“It’s my youngest’s room.” She looked up again, and her left hand seemed to be a little shaky as she soothed already straight hair behind her ear. You watched her closer and saw her body sway a bit to steady herself when her head lowered. You instinctually looked to the door, to an exit. Harry should be down there. Nerves suddenly held your body like they always do in a situation that’s unfamiliar, in the face of unpredictability.

“She liked astronomy!” She said suddenly, as if she’d just had an epiphany. She walked over to the canopy drapes and peered between them, revealing a balcony as she looked out. “I thought she’d like it. She likes the stars.”

“I bet they’re, uh-” your eyes shot out again- “Beautiful from here.”

She was quiet and she slowly turned to you, pointing to the ceiling. “There. Did you- didyouseeit? There.” She stumbled closer, still in heels, and you crossed your arms tightly, nodding even though you had no idea. You followed her hand briefly. It was the scribble on the wall.

“I picked it,” she said, finger sliding to fall at her heart. “I picked it.”  

“Jesus! Mary.” Harry stormed in, a horrified look on his face as he clutched clothes in his hands. They fell to the floor.

“And Joseph,” you muttered.

Harry’s eyes held no humor in them in the brief moment he glanced to you. It was hardly enough time to properly glare. But glare he did. And there was enough fiery gusto in them to realize that now was not the time.

“Jane,” she corrected. “Jane.”

Harry was struck still, and you watched as his eyes frantically observed. But when she was about to sit down again he spoke,

“What’re you doing in here? Y/N is going to try and sleep.”

Mary looked at him, her drunken emotional journey to the past turning sour. Her lips pressed in a hard line and she stood up, swaying a bit when she did so, but the level of composure she emanated was impressive.  She went over to him, passing you silently, and for an irrational second you thought she was going to jump you. Instead, she grabbed Harry’s arm when she was almost out the door. “There were two rooms Harry.” She tried to whisper it, but the alcohol had warped her perception and you heard everything.

She let her hand fall and Harry’s fist clenched as it did.

You were struck dumb, again. This wasn’t your domain, you weren’t close enough to comfort him if that was what he needed and you weren’t brave enough to interject if he needed a good slap in the face. You barely knew him. And the realization of that sunk deeper than you’d ever realized. You can get frustrated because of him, infuriated at him even, but you couldn’t be one to judge. Not when he seemed more miserable here than anywhere else.

“Stay here,” he finally said. And then he was gone, leaving you with a pile of clothes that couldn’t explain the half of it.

You stripped quietly once the door was closed, pulling the oversized plaid button up down that fell to completely cover your hands. It still left you cold, barely covering your bum, but your heart warmed a little at how he didn’t just give you a black t-shirt. You almost stepped over the sweatpants that were there before greedily snatching them up with a smile In your fanciful mind you imagined he knew you’d be cold in here.

Harry never came back. You couldn’t text Renny, or anyone, and you couldn’t be bothered with figuring out how to turn on the tv or to find a channel. So you lay there, looking at the ceiling. You didn’t belong in this room. Mary, even if she hadn’t necessarily said get out, still verifiably creeped you out enough so that you didn’t want to be in this room. You never knew Harry had another sibling. Not that you’d even known about Gemma until yesterday. How many other people knew him, truly? Why were you here now? What would you do if you opened your eyes and Mary was just sitting at the end of your bed again - watching you sleep?  It made your head dizzy and you closed your eyes. If she was there at least you wouldn’t be able to see her. But the scribble in the sky was still burned in your mind’s eye and it had your imagination roaring. You rolled over on your side, pulling up the thin sheet to cover your ear. The wind smacked a palm tree leaf against the balcony window and you jolted in place. You felt haunted, and it wasn’t like the sheet would protect you from anything except for soothing the little toddler in you who still believed that good always won, evil always lost.

This was an expensive home.

With probably more security than the local bank.

You were safe.

But you didn’t feel secure.

Your anxious thoughts continued like pins pricking your stomach until fatigue made it stop. You didn’t know the time when you fell asleep.

And you didn’t know the time when you awoke. The smacking of the palm trees was as bad as ever , and your nightmare had been worse tonight. The same sick one. A house in the countryside, peeling wallpaper that threatened to wrap itself over your hands if you leant against it a little too long, trapping you there when you needed to run from faceless creatures.

You were being watched.

You jolted-to in a cold sweat.

Was it 2 am? 3? You hoped it was closer to 6, to the sunrise. These days you cherished the times when you’d wake up at 4. You tried closing your eyes again, but the sweat soon chilled you enough to where the sheet wasn’t enough. You silently stood, walking over to the cabinets on the far side of the wall. The painted shutter doors squeaked when you opened them. It must’ve not been opened for a while because the paint caused the two doors to stick together and it only gave on the third tug.

What you saw stilled your heart. Because you didn’t find linens or a big fluffy blanket, and if you’d discovered this just a few hours later in the morning you’d probably glance right over it, perhaps it would’ve sparked a moment of confusion maybe. But now, in a big strange house in the middle of the night you surely felt a chill. And then you were booking it out to the hall.

His door was there. Just like any other door. But you paced around it a few times. He was probably sleeping. Should you just go to the downstairs? Just…I don’t know… grab a glass of water? Try putting on the tv? Like a normal person would? You raised your hand, but it fell just as fast. Gosh who were you?!

You couldn’t yell at Harry for being bipolar when you were basically the perfect spokesmodel. You knew why you were standing outside his door. You knew who’d make you feel secure. This was embarrassing.

But the door opened before you had to knock.

“You can come in,” he murmured.

“Oh,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “Oh you don’t have to-”

But when he opened the door wider you didn’t waste a second in entering.  

Good Girls Don’t

There are a lot of things good girls don’t. They don’t laugh too loud, they don’t dress too short, they don’t swear and they don’t put themselves out there. They wait, and they do it while sitting properly in their pristine white dresses, with their hands crossed over their laps and their back sitting up straight.

There’s a lot of things good girls don’t and getting their panties wet every time they see a guy is definitely one of them.

You rubbed your thighs together as your fingers pressed tightly to the table you were sitting on, trying to hold on to a reality that was slipping away as you looked at him. You imagined the taste of his skin, and how it must have felt against yours when he was lying on top of you, and you thought about the fire of his kiss, and how it probably tasted like peppermint and just a tiny hint of sin. You thought about heaven and having him lie next to you at night.

The fire that had settled in your lower tummy was going to consume you all at any moment, and you shifted in your seat, trying to release some of the pressure that had built between your legs. You were definitely wet.

But as much as you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about him, imagining yourself on your knees while your eyes obediently locked in with his. You imagined your lips wrapping around the two fingers he was offering to you, and the light bob you would do to take them all the way in, while your tongue pressed to them to suck them lightly, looking at him as his eyes, usually green and sweet, turned dark, the burning lust covering them as he gazed down at you. You even imagined the light gag of your throat as he pushed his fingers all the way in, and the moan that bubbled up from your very core when he slid them out, the strings of spit that fell down making you blush as you looked down.

“Look at me, yeah?” He would say, with his voice a little raspier than usual as he kneeled in front of you. “C’mon, kitten, look at me.” He would repeat his command slowly, a smirk curling up the corner of his lips as your eyes fluttered open to obey him. “Look at me while I fuck ya with my fingers, yeah? Use all that spit you left. Were you imagining my cock?” He would ask, his smirk growing bigger as you nodded, still unable to speak your own words, as your heart was knotting on your throat and beating rapidly at the sight of him. “You’re such a fucking good girl.”

Keep reading

It Takes An Accident- Pietro x Reader

Authors notes: I have never done a Soulmate AU so I hope this is okay. Thanks for the request Anon. Also, I dished this out this morning and did not read it over and over like I usually do to edit fics so, sorry for any mistakes. Also, also, I don’t do science so I hope the number thing makes sense.

Prompt: I have a request (no rush) if you write Pietro could you write a soulmate mark one? Pietro or reader has their mark in a hard to see place so one doesn’t what to look for, but the other has it on a visible spot. .. Am I making sense I’m not sure XD

 Notes/Warnings: I cant really think of anything but maybe adrenaline rush, flying, falling, crashing.

Originally posted by heartstacey

 You hate it.

 Its dark and it hurt when it burned into your skin. On the plus side, its on the the back of your hip so, no one can see the deep red numbers that sat raised slightly above the rest of your skin. They looked like scars, lifted with a slight shine to them. The thing that bothered you about all this soulmate nonsense was the fast that it was so unclear.

 For some people their numbers were a date, for some a location, and others, a time. Then, there were the extremely rare ones who got letters, initials or even an actual name. You however were stuck with numbers, so there was no way of knowing what yours meant.

 The number was too short to be a date or location. So, what did 894 mean? Screw it, you didn’t care. With your luck, you probably wouldn’t even meet your soulmate, it’s known to happen to some people.

Keep reading

after midnight

“You’re my best friend.”

Part I / Part II
Pairing: Shawn Mendes x female character
Rating: Mature
Words: 3126

A/N: This is loosely based on some lines in Blink-182’s song After Midnight, and you should listen to it bc it’s a great tune. I started this ages ago and forgot about it and when I found it I loved it. I also snuck in requests - 3 from this and 79 and 148 from this. I hope you like it ^^


His hands are under her thighs, keeping her close, and her chest is pushed against him, her arms around his neck. Shawn walks lazily through the dark, moving carefully so as to not let her fall.

“You know, I wouldn’t do this if you weren’t my best friend,” Shawn slurs.

“I know,” she grins and turns her head on his shoulder to place a messy kiss on his cheek.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Shawn sighs, pushing up on his toes with force so that she moves higher up on his back, then stalks on slowly along the trail.

“You wouldn’t have had to. This is your fault by the way, you had it coming,” she accuses.

“How is it my fault?” His head snaps to the side and he stumbles, almost falling, but his hand takes hold of a low branch just in time.

“Well, you decided it was a good idea to take a shortcut through the woods while we’re both drunk this late at night and I’m wearing heels that are higher than Wendy was when we left, so it’s only fair you help me out by not letting me trip and die.”

Shawn laughs at her dramatic wording of the situation. “But you had fun though, didn’t you?”

“Loved it! Birthday girl is as alive as the night. You used to have a crush on her, right? Didn’t you get her number before? You never told me how that went.”

“We did talk, but we just stayed friends because she’s been with her girlfriend for years,” Shawn says, chuckling.

“Oh, that explains it. Girls are either blind or gay if they pass on you, because you’re a catch and you’re hot. I think you’re like, really hot.”

Shawn stops walking and turns his head to look at her. This isn’t something she would have said had she not been drinking earlier. He likes to think that their friendship is strong because of the way it has so many sides; they crack jokes at each other’s expense, and they bicker like an old married couple, but they also understand each other like one would their soulmate. They can read one another with a single glance, and they’re always there when the other needs them. They casually tell each other ‘love ya’ when they hang up the phone or when they text goodnight, but platonic is the word he would use to describe them. They’ve even given each other pep talks in order to boost their egos in preparation for first dates. This however, is nothing like that platonic love. These are uninhibited words, an honest thought, because she would never admit to finding him attractive like this.  

As if she’s realised what she just said, she clears her throat and brings her hands to his shoulders and loosens the grip of her thighs around him. “I think I can walk now.”

Shawn bends his knees to let her down and he realises that she must have been lying because she steadies herself on every other tree that they pass. They walk the rest of the trail in silence, which isn’t unusual for them when they’re alone together; they can spend hours sitting next to each other without speaking while he plays video games and she reads a book with her legs across his thighs. But this stillness is a shy lack of words that are replaced by the buzzing of bugs and an owl hooting somewhere among the trees.

A while later, they arrive at the edge of the forest and then they stagger through a suburb he’s not sure he recognises, but the houses look similar to the ones in his area so they keep going until he feels dizzy, the last of the consumed alcohol getting to him. They sit down on the sidewalk in front of somebody’s garage for a while as she rubs his shoulders and back as he fights the nausea.

“I swear, if you throw up…”

“It would be pretty embarrassing for me to puke on Craig’s driveway,” Shawn says.

“That’s his house?” She turns to the garden and recognises the place. “Then by all means, go right ahead. He was such a dick after the breakup. He deserves some vomit on his lawn.”

“Nope,” Shawn replies, slowly standing up. “I think I’m good now.” He starts to walk and she drunkenly waddles behind him.

They’ve gotten themselves deeper in the area when their roles flip, and she’s the drunker one as Shawn starts to sober up, and she seems to have gained a sudden adrenaline rush.

“Did you have one of the brownies?” Shawn asks.

“No, but I was there when they were smoking,” she giggles with a grin on her face.

“You are so high,” he teases.

“Who cares?! Carpe noctem!” she yells into the night, then turns and starts to walk in reverse.

“What does that mean?” Shawn laughs, affected by her contagious bliss.

“It’s like carpe diem, except, you know, night,” she smirks at him and shrugs, then turns around to skip ahead.

“Let’s carpe this frickin’ noctem!”

She looks so alive in that moment, with a big smile plastered on her face and her arms spread out as she runs. Shawn thinks that there is nothing else he would be doing than following her down this street right now and he feels his chest fill with a strange feeling he doesn’t quite get. He follows her and wraps his arms around her waist, spinning her around him. She shrieks and squiggles free of his grip before turning to him. Giggling, she pokes the end of his nose with her fingertip before running off again. 

Shawn catches up to her and slows her down with a hand on her shoulder then hooks his arm around hers for good measure, because the alcohol and the marijuana has definitely gotten to her, and the last thing they need is for her to run into a street lamp and come home bruised.

They wander around for what feels like ages, their slightly drunken state paired with their carelessness doing nothing to help, but Shawn realises a while later that the street signs are no longer blurry. He’s unsure of where exactly they are relative to his place so he tries to remember how the streets are placed, but his mind still feels a little groggy. They follow a curve of streetlamps, and after a while he understands that they’ve been walking in circles.

“Are we lost or do you know where we are?”

“I’m not so sure anymore…” Shawn trails off, slowly spinning around to have a look at their surroundings.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid,” he defends. He spots another street sign that he recognises and finally, he figures it out. “Come here, I think I know where to go now.”

He decides that walking down a straight road is a much better idea and it takes them another twenty minutes that feel more like an hour, but soon enough they’re in front of Shawn’s backyard, slowly opening the gate and sneaking in like thieves.

“Home at last,” he sighs in relief.

“It wouldn’t have taken so long if we hadn’t gotten lost,” she mutters.

“I’ve taken that shortcut a thousand times, and that’s never happened to me,” he defends.

“Have you ever taken it after drinking?”

“You make a fair point.” Shawn shrugs, and his eyes fall upon the dark window of his sister’s room. “We have to be quiet,” he says, holding a finger in front of his mouth. “I think they’re asleep.”

“I’m not gonna have any problems being quiet, you’re the one with long, clumsy legs. And your balance is shit when you’re drunk,” she taunts.

“For your information, I have sobered up quite a bit. See,” he says, lifting one leg behind him as he leans forward with his arms spread out, but he puts his foot back down when he wavers.

“By the looks of your balance and your face you haven’t.”

“My face?” He asks, his fingers automatically going up to his cheek.

“You blush after two beers.”

“I do not.”

She pulls out her phone and quickly snaps a picture of him with the flash on, and he’s momentarily blinded when the light hits his face. When he blinks his eyes open he sees the picture of himself, eyelids tightly shut, nose scrunched up, and yes, cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink.

“Shit.”

“Damn right,” she says. “Let’s get inside now, I’m fucking freezing.”

“No, wait, I just had the best idea!” he grins. “What if we get in the jacuzzi?”

“Shawn, it’s two am.”

“You were the one who said ‘carpe noctem’. Are you too chicken to follow through?”

“No, but I didn’t bring extra underwear,” she whines.

“We can just get in naked!” He grins, an excited look on his face. “I promise to let you borrow my clothes,” he bribes.

She squints thoughtfully. “Fine. But if I’m going commando, so are you.”

“Deal.”

She undresses and gets into the water first as he turns away, and then he makes her cover her eyes as he sheds his clothes. He carefully dips his feet into the water first, then sinks into the welcoming heat.

“You can open your eyes now,” he says.

“It’s not like I needed to close them anyway, it’s pitch black. I can hardly see you.”

“Can you see me now?” Shawn asks as he moves closer until he’s sitting right next to her.

“Yes, your cheeks are like a neon sign,” she chuckles.

“Fuck off,” he laughs. “As much as a dick you are, this is nice. Let’s  make this a tradition. Every time we come to my place drunk, we get in the tub.”

“Are you serious?” She laughs. “What about during winter?”

“Right…” Shawn mumbles and thinks it over for a second. “Quickie. We just get in and get out.”

“Alright, but we get hot chocolate after.” She smiles at him quickly before her face falls. “I just realised that we’re gonna freeze our asses off when we get out of the tub. Can we just stay here forever?”

“I don’t think my parents would be too happy to find us naked in the morning.”

“Your parents,” she groans. “We have to get out.”

“But it’s so cold. Think we can just live with the embarrassment tomorrow?”

She deadpans. “I’ll bake you a cake if you get us towels,” she offers, her face now sporting a sweet smile.

Shawn makes his second agreement for the night, negotiating his way to a two tier cake with muffins on the side, even though he knows she would have baked for him anyways, then runs inside, knowing full well that she has a good view of his arse and will most likely tease him about it later. Shuffling through a cabinet in the bathroom, he finds two large towels and hurries back outside. When he returns with one of the towels hanging from his hips, she’s sitting on the edge of the tub with her back turned to him, arms twisted around her bare body. Her shivering figure is a pitiful sight, so he walks up from behind and wraps the other towel around her.

She flinches at the unsuspected contact, but relaxes when she sees it’s him. “Thanks,” she says, pulling the towel tighter against her. “I got it, you can let go now,” she says, looking up at his eyes when he doesn’t remove his arms.

“Uh, yeah, sorry.” He swallows and takes a couple of steps back, giving her some space.


Shawn passes her a t-shirt and steps into a pair of sweatpants himself while she pulls his shirt over her head, then slides in under the big blanket next to her, sighing at the comfort of his own bed.

“I love your pillows. They’re so big,” she says, shoving her cheek into one of them as she hugs another.

“Are you still drunk?”

She reminds him of his cat when she was still a kitten, how she would fall asleep curled into her own body, and he thinks that she looks pretty damn cute the way she resembles the feline, wrapped in his blanket and surrounded by pillows.

“No, ‘m sober, I swear,” she mumbles.

“Good, then I don’t have to take care of your drunk ass.” Shawn tugs the pillow that’s in her arms and places it beneath his head, smirking when he sees her appalled expression.

“That’s not fair, I’m freezing and it was keeping me warm,” she says, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

“I need a pillow too,” he says. “But I can cuddle you, I’m warm.”

She places her palm hesitantly on his bare chest, then grins. “Oh my God, you are a furnace. Please hold me,” she pleads although he has already offered to, removing the barrier between them and shuffling closer.

Shawn voluntarily wraps his arms around her and she snuggles into him as he quickly rubs his hand against her back to generate heat. He inhales the smell of her shampoo, a floral scent he can’t quite place, and that strange feeling that he still doesn’t understand comes back. He feels his heart beat faster and he wonders if she realises, because lying in bed like this with her, this close, reminds him of the first time he had a boy in his bed. It reminds him of how he felt when the boy had placed his fingers on Shawn’s cheek and gently kissed him, how they had slowly explored each other with nervous hands. But he shouldn’t be feeling this way, and he definitely shouldn’t be thinking of kissing her because the person he’s holding is his best friend.

She hums and he is pulled back from his thoughts. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s the Canadian in me,” he chuckles.

“Uh, not technically, because you don’t have Canadian genes,” she says.

“I keep forgetting that. Well, then evolution has just done a great job with me. I’m also supposedly really hot.”

She chuckles, slapping his chest with her palm gently, and the quiet returns, but this time it’s nice. They don’t need to fill the empty air with small talk; they’re comfortable like this. Along with the comfort comes the thought of a them in Shawn’s mind.

“Did you know that I had a crush on you when we were twelve?” Shawn doesn’t know where the first words to break the silence come from, but they slip past his lips before he can stop himself.

“What?!” She moves abruptly, resting on her forearms as she faces him.

“Yeah. It wasn’t as much of a crush as I thought you were cute, but I also kinda wanted to kiss you, if that makes sense?”

“That sounds like a crush to me,” she laughs. She smiles above him, and Shawn think he sees a faint blush on her cheeks but tells himself he’s imagining things, but then she speaks, “I thought you were cute, too. I mean, I still think you’re cute. Now you’re my best friend.”

He grins, scanning her face for any message, but she just has a faint smile on her lips. Then he notices how her eyes move down, and he wonders, this is when he’s supposed to kiss her, right? That’s how she’d instructed him when he was nervous for his first kiss. He remembers how she had held his face between her hands, whispered against his lips, telling him how to make it better by going slow, and how she had pulled back just before their lips touched. She had told him that girls had a look on their face when they wanted a boy to kiss them, and he was almost certain that this was that look. Hell, he had kissed plenty of girls since, but this is his favourite person, and this means so much more.

He’s hesitant, but he recognises the movement of her eyes and how she licks her lips, and he knows. He lifts his head the slightest bit when she moves hers lower. Shawn thinks everything has stopped, his heart, time, the air around them; everything feels still. Then he realises how absurd the situation is, and he bursts into laughter.

She places her hand over his mouth, attempting to silence him while she giggles into his chest. He makes a strained noise under her hand, and licks her palm when she doesn’t remove it.

“Ew! Why would you do that?!” She wipes her palm against his stomach, and her hand lingers there for a second, and then her eyes look down to his exposed abdomen. “Shut up,” she mutters, when she sees the smirk on his face.

They lie like that for a while, quiet, close to each other, and grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re my best friend,” he says.

Then he moves closer again. She mirrors his movement, tilting her head slightly to the side. Their lips are nearly touching when he pauses, because he has to ask.

“Promise we’ll be okay after?” Shawn whispers the words, terrified of what they mean and what the impending kiss could mean.

“I promise,” she whispers just as quietly. Then she leans in until their lips are touching.

The kiss is sweet, innocent, and gently lingering. But then Shawn’s fingers move to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and his fingertips brush her neck when he retracts his hand, but her neck feels like a good place for his fingers to be so he rests them there and slowly strokes the skin. She gasps at the feeling, and her mouth falls open, and then the kiss becomes kisses and they become fast and sloppy until sounds can be heard between their mouths. They pull away for a second to catch their breaths, but immediately resume. Shawn’s hand crawls up her back between the shirt and her flesh, and he rubs her back soothingly.

“Mm, too much tongue,” she mumbles against his lips.

Shawn pulls back, offended. “Too much teeth,” he counters.

“Sorry, I’ll be nice,” she laughs, delivering a gentle peck on his mouth.

Her lips are soft against his, and she just feels so nice, and Shawn thinks that he wouldn’t mind doing this more often.

“I think I like kissing you,” he mumbles.

“I think I like kissing you too,” she replies.

They kiss again for a while, slowly this time, until they stop because Shawn almost dozes off. So they hold each other close with loose grips and gentle hands and talk about everything but the kiss, because they don’t need to.

Beauty and the Beast Post-Curse headcanons

In the past week, after seeing the new live action Beauty and the Beast (twice thus far. Still jonesing for a third viewing) the movie has taken up a permanent residence in the back of my mind, thus creating many a headcanon to frolic about in the space betwixt my ears. I personally enjoy reading other people’s headcanons so here are a few post-curse headcanons of mine, organized by character…

Belle 
- Belle uses the library to start a school for the village children, bringing the village’s literacy rate higher than anywhere else in the country. The children often give her drawings and short stories they’ve written which she displays prominently.
- One of her favorite things is watching Adam interact with children. He was a bit concerned at first that they wouldn’t like him, but it turns out he is great with them! She’s had to enact a “no piggyback rides in the library” rule. 
- She and Père Robert start a book club.
 - She is almost constantly tinkering with ideas and inventing things to make things easier around the castle. Washing machines, kitchen gadgets, carts with built in book shelves, and so on and so forth. Adam is more than happy to provide her with anything she could possibly need and often watches her work, helping when he can, but mostly just admiring her mind at work. 

Prince Adam 
- Now that he is considerably less hairy (and over all less beastly in terms of body mass) he gets cold easily. (Mostly at night or in the early morning since early post-curse is summer.) He can often be found in the library by the fire and occasionally making his way through the castle wrapped in a sort of mobile cocoon of blankets.
-Since the curse has been lifted he is trying to encourage a lighthearted atmosphere around the castle, attempting to undo the “when I enter a room, laughter dies” reputation. This ends up manifesting itself in quippy remarks and the occasional pun (much to the surprise of the staff at first) and ultimately learning to laugh at himself more. 
- He finds himself gravitating to Belle. Absentmindedly taking her hand in his whenever she is close by. Reading over her shoulder from time to time. Overall just preferring to be near her. She makes him feel safe. Yes, this is real. The curse is broken. She really does love him.  
-Having Phillipe around has proven very therapeutic for him. He goes for walks around the grounds with Phillipe and talks with him, pampering him with lots of apples for being such a good listener.
-He waits a while to propose to Belle, but he keeps his mother’s wedding ring on his person pretty much from the start of their post-curse days. He just didn’t want to make Belle feel rushed. 

Lumière
- After years of having no taste buds,  Lumière has become a foodie. He relishes being able to savor the simplest ingredients, often enticing Plumette to try whatever he is most excited about at the time. “Plumette, you must try these strawberries! They are positively exquisite!”
-He often forgets that he can no longer produce a source of light at will, and can often be heard muttering as he stubs his toe in the dark.
-When Belle and Adam do get married, he is Adam’s best man and delivers the greatest speech. Lots of laughs. Even more happy tears.

Plumette
-Plumette maintains a feather-like touch and learns how to paint from Maurice. Her landscapes become famous for her delicate brushwork. 
-She has never lost an argument with Lumière. Any time he is being stubborn on a point of disagreement, she tickles him until he is willing to talk things out. 

Cadenza and Garderobe
-After their long curse induced separation, Cadenza and Garderobe take a second honeymoon and are nearly inseparable. 

Mrs. Potts and family(plus LeFou)
- Mr. Potts ends up moving into the castle and commuting to the village for work. Any time he has to leave he takes a moment to hug Mrs. Potts and Chip, studying their faces with a smile so that he never forgets again.
-Mrs. Potts and LeFou end up becoming good friends. She gives LeFou motherly advice and Chip ends up looking up to him like a big brother. 
-LeFou makes sure to encourage Chip to follow his heart, be self assured (but remain humble) and to have the courage to stand up for himself, even if it means standing up to a friend. 

Disobey

Request: If your doing requests I have a Steve thing that came into mind. It’s pretty much just smut, inspired by lyrics from the song ‘tied down - James young’. Specifically “So please can I be selfish with your body, cause I don’t think I can share you with nobody” and “When I have you, I’m gonna brand you with my lips, so all of the world will know that your mine now”. -however you want it is fine with me :) -also sorry for bothering you :E I just couldn’t resist 

Words: 3,973

A/N: Smut warning. I also haven’t had the chance to edit I’m sorry

Originally posted by urmychilicheesecake

“Y/N!” You ignored Steve yelling at you through the earpiece. Grabbing the gun off one of the Hydra agents, you checked to make sure there were enough bullets to get through the next hallway. Four bullets.

“Y/N there are too many agents in that room, forget the extra intel we got what we needed,” Steve spoke through sternly again. You ignored him once again, holding the gun up, finger on the trigger, ready to fire at any given moment.

“Sorry Cap, we can’t just walk away when we know there’s more information that we could use.” You whispered through the earpiece. You rounded the corner, gun aimed high, shooting once, effectively taking out two Hydra agents that were rounding the corner together. One would think not to walk right behind the other.

“Y/N. Get out of there and start heading for the Quinjet. Now.” You rolled your eyes. You continued making turned until you found the door that led to the information you were looking for. You jiggled the doorknob, hoping that there was a small chance that it wasn’t going to be locked. You backed away from the door, contemplating whether or not you were going to shoot the lock and fight however many people were in there with two bullets or walk away like you were told. You raised your gun, thinking to hell with it, before shooting the lock once and kicking the door open, gun still raised. To your surprise, the room was empty. You rushed to one of the computers, inserting a flash drive before hurriedly tapping away on the computer.

“I thought I told you to go to the Quinjet.” You turned around, holding the gun up out of instinct, caught off guard by how quiet Steve had been. There were deep frown lines on the edges of his mouth, his usual bright baby blues that typically reminded you of the sky on a sunny day were now a dark navy blue that reminded you of the deepest edges of the ocean. You swallowed, the tension in the room growing thick. Your heartbeat rose, waiting for him to yell at you. You watched as he tightened and untightened his jaw, something you know he did when he was annoyed. His broad chest rose and fell so lightly that if you hadn’t been studying him so closely you would think that he wasn’t breathing. His hands were in fists, knuckles white that you could only imagine were from how hard he was digging his nails into his palm. You didn’t know what to say.

You heard the computer beeping, you turned your attention from the very angry looking super soldier to the Hydra computer. You read the big green letters that popped on the screen.

Transfer complete

You let yourself smile a little bit, ejecting the flash drive before turning around to face Steve again. His eyes kept burning holes into you.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me or are we going to head back to the Quinjet?” You asked, praying to whoever was listening that didn’t sound as snappy as it sounded. He turned around stalking out of the room cautiously.

You trailed behind him, looking behind you to see one agent rounding the corner. You raised your gun and shot them in the arms, not lethal but definitely enough to knock them out. You looked forward again, hearing grunts and punches landing. You rounded the corner, hoping that it wasn’t Steve who was receiving such painful sounding punches. You felt your body relax when he saw that he had taken out six agents. He may have been a good fighter but he wasn’t perfect. When he turned around he avoided eye contact, but you saw the gash on his right shoulder. He kicked his foot down, causing the shield to fly up and allowing his arm to grab it before ordering you to follow him.

You started to move but one of the agents that were lying on the ground cocked his gun and aimed it at you. You froze, staring at his bloodied mouth curl up, watching his finger move slowly towards the trigger before hearing him fire. You closed your eyes and flinched, waiting to feel the bullet pierce through your skin. You opened one eye, looking at the wall to your right and seeing a very familiar shield wedged into the wall. You looked over to where the agent was lying, seeing him shot dead. Steve was at the other end of the hallway, eyes trained on the agent, a gun pointed at the dead body. You let out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, tears pricking your eyes. You swallowed again, blinking away the tears. You grabbed the shield, following him out of the building.

You raced to get on the plane, feeling it begin to take off once the both of you were on it. Steve had his back to you. You looked down to see the shield in your hands. Your fingers traced over the scratch marks and a fresh bullet mark on it. The black spot was warm, it caused a cold shiver to travel up your spine, thinking about what could have happened if the shield wasn’t there. If Steve wasn’t there. You turned and started walking deeper into the plane, looking for Steve. You saw Natasha and Agent Hill by Tony who was flying the plane. You kept walking towards the emergency medical wing, spotting Steve going through the cabinets in the room. You knocked gently on the door, catching his attention. He opened the door, looking at you silently before his eyes trailed to his shield. You handed him his beloved armor.

“Thank you.” You said quietly. You looked up at him again and saw that his fingers were tracing the same bullet mark that you were minutes ago.

“You’re not coming on our next mission.”  He said harshly, catching you by surprise. You blinked a few times, processing the words that just came out of his mouth.

“What?” You asked, more to yourself than him.

“You’re off the next mission.” He turned around again, setting the shield down by the door, looking through the drawers.

“You can’t do that!” You argued, angry that he thought he could control you and tell you what to do. He ignored your protest, eyes scanning the labels on the many bottles he had taken out.

“I’m going on the next mission whether you liked it or not. There is no reason for me to be taken off of it.” At your words Steve snapped his head towards you, standing up to his full height.

“You’re off the next three missions.”

“You can’t do that!” You exclaimed again, throwing your hands up in anger.

“I just did.” He muttered, pushing past you. You followed behind him, refusing to let this go by.

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Storms and Visitors {Sirius Black x Reader} *SMUT*

Blessing your feeds with some SMUT SMUT SMURT SMUT. This was so worth it to write. Next one will be Remus ;)

Regulus invites you at his house to stay for the night until the storm stops but Sirius has other plans.

WARNING: SMUT, DOMINANT!SIRIUS, SEXUAL THEMES, WASH YOUR EYES WITH SOAP AFTER READING THIS

Enjoy! @allertonn

xx

When the hard rain and the thunder rumbled into a magnificent chaos in the night sky, Disappparating was simply not an option. It was a huge mistake to leave the house especially for (Y/n). She had not yet learned how to Disapparate properly and even worse, she was stuck in Diagon Alley. Everyone had ran for cover as soon as the rain poured heavily and (Y/n) quickly stayed at Madam Malkin’s when she heard someone call her name.

“(Y/n)?” Regulus said, walking towards her with a smile. “How nice to see you here.”

“Regulus!” She exclaimed, clearly surprised as well to find her housemate in the shop. She came up to him with a long embrace before pulling back. “The weather’s crazy, isn’t it? A storm right in the middle of summer.”

“Yeah, it’s quite strange,” he agreed. “How are you?”

“Fine as usual. What’re you buying, by the way?” (Y/n) asked, peeking curiously at the coat he carried in his arm.

“Oh, I didn’t buy anything. This is my brother’s,” he said, showing the black coat with several holes. “He came to visit today since our parents aren’t home. I’m just getting it fixed for him.”

“That’s so sweet of you!” (Y/n) smiled, making Regulus blush.

“I guess so. We may hate each other but we’re still brothers,” he chuckled, rubbing his neck, a habit both Black brothers had when they wanted to ask something nervously. “Hey, listen, do you know how to get back home by yourself?”

“I’m still figuring it out. The rain doesn’t look like it’s stopping,” (Y/n) replied, looking up at the ceiling where she can hear the hard pitter patters of the rain.

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to stay at my house for the night. It’s quite late and I know you live very far but my house is near by. We can take some Floo powder instead so we won’t have to get wet.”

“Are you sure, Regulus? I-I don’t want to be a bother or anything…”

“It’s fine! I’m sure my brother won’t mind,” he reassured, “but if you don’t want, that’s fine too. I completely understand if you don’t want to come with me–”

“Regulus,” she comforted, “Thank you.”

She held his hand and rested her head on his shoulder as he lines up in front of the counter with a smile on his face.

Green flames erupted from the ashes of the fireplace in Grimmauld Place and out came (Y/n) first, shortly followed by Regulus. The dining room was dark and empty except their house elf who was carrying a silver tray.

“Welcome home, Master Regulus,” he greeted, “Kreacher sees his master brought company. How nice.”

“Oh, Kreacher, this is (Y/n). She’s staying her until the storm stops,” Regulus said, shaking off his coat and hanging it on the chair before taking a seat.

“Would the young miss like some tea?” Kreacher offered, showing her his silver tray full of teacups and teabags. “The bloodtraitor hates anything Kreacher gives. Kreacher thinks he should not eat anymore. Filthy bloodtraitor–”

“Just chamomile for me, thank you,” (Y/n) said, not wanting to hear what else he has to say about Sirius who just came down from the stairs.

“Regulus, is that you?” He called from behind the door before entering the dining room, his eyes immediately setting on (Y/n).

“Didn’t know your girlfriend will be here,” Sirius smirked as he leaned against the door frame. He was incoming his seventh year already and (Y/n) felt her heart race.

“She’s not my girlfriend, Sirius. She’s my…friend,” Regulus said the last part softly.

“I’m (Y/n). I’m just staying here for the night. I promise I won’t try to be a bother–”

“Hey, no worries. I don’t mind a little company,” Sirius said, “Regulus, why don’t you show her to our guest room? I’m sure she’s exhausted.”

(Y/n) have known about Sirius and the troubles he would cause back in Hogwarts but she had never expected him to be very welcoming especially to someone who was a Slytherin like his whole family. She imagined he would be more cold and maybe even worse but she was happy to know that he was polite and kind.

The two brothers led her to their guest room which had a large, four poster bed with a chandelier hanging on top. It was nice and clean and obviously, painted in gray and green. Regulus walked in to make sure it was comfortable enough for her when he heard the thunder rumble outside.

“The rain’s not stopping but I hope you’ll be able to get some rest. I’m assuming you’ve had dinner already?”

“Yeah,” (Y/n) answered before walking towards him. “Thank you for letting me stay. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be soaking wet in Diagon Alley.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered shyly, feeling his cheeks redden once more. “If you need anything, I’ll be down the hall.”

“Thank you. Good night, Regulus.”

“Good night, (Y/n).”

The door creaked softly as the brother entered the room. He kept his footsteps light while his eyes watched (Y/n)’s chest rise up and down, her hand holding tight onto the pillow as she dreamed. Her neck was completely exposed but as he approached her closer, he saw that she was only dressed in her lace underwear.

Sirius felt himself harden at the sight, not being able to contain the temptation any longer. He crawled slowly and gently on top of her. He trailed his lips from her collarbone up to her throat until he reached her chin. She really looked delectable.  She moaned at the feeling, the sound driving him insane as he kissed her neck.

Sirius…”

He pulled away at the mention of his name, checking if she was awake. Her eyelids slowly opened as he watched her carefully but she did not seem surprised. She smiled and slipped her fingers through his thick, dark locks.

“Why’d you stop, darlin’?”

Sirius immediately dove in to taste her lips. He kissed her rapaciously, his tongue begging for entrance, needing to feel the sensation of her tongue playing with his. She allowed him to slip inside while grinding against the tent that had formed in his trousers. It made him moan and even want her more. Throwing his shirt aside, he licked his lip and stripped her off her undergarments before proceeding to remove his pants. His cock was already aching from the tight confines of his jeans and the dark spot on his boxers was enough evidence to show her how much he wanted her. He licked her neck up and down before he bit her earlobe softly, his hand trailing down to her breasts. He pinched her nipple between his fingers and as she let out a moan, he began to massage her.

“ ‘Been wanting this now, haven’t you?” He teased, sucking onto the spot right below her ear. He lowered his hand further, his palm feeling every inch of her skin as he guided his fingers to her entrance where he felt her already soaking wet.

He teased her lips by rubbing his finger up and down and barely slipping in the tip of his finger. The combination of his kisses on her neck and his teasing made her almost control. Her hips bucked at his hand, making him chuckle.

“Please, Sirius. N-Need you…”

“Hm, maybe not yet, love.” He said, pulling back his fingers and putting them into his mouth while she watched him. As much as he wanted to tease her, he himself also wanted to taste her more and so he stretched her legs wide open. Seeing her dripping for him made him growl hungrily. He kissed her inner thighs softly before dragging his tongue on her clit and slowly slipping into two of his fingers inside.

“Oh God…” She let out, holding onto his hair as an effort to get him closer. Sirius immediately got her message, moving his fingers in and out rapidly, making her clench tight. He alternated between moving his fingers inside and sticking his tongue in, both giving her the pleasure she so desired. As her climax neared, Sirius pulled out his fingers and concentrated on giving her release with his tongue.

Her hands gripped onto his hair, allowing him to moan into her and sending vibrations. He removed his boxers while keeping his mouth on her entrance and with a buck of her hips and a loud moan, she came on his tongue.

He lapped onto her juices both inside and out. He wanted to make sure he tasted every drop of her essence before he pulled away. She was breathing heavily as she watched him smirk and hover above her.

“How was it?”

“Good…good…” She breathed but Sirius was not yet finish.

He teased the head of his cock up and down her entrance, slicking her with her own juices, his precum, and his saliva. (Y/n) instinctively rose her hips to let him slide in but he held her hips to prevent her from moving.

“Tell me, love. Is this what you want?”

“Sirius, please…I want you.” She looked at him with pleading eyes, her arms around his neck. “I’m ready for you.”

He stopped teasing her for a while, his lips coming down onto hers. He kissed her lightly, in contrast to how he started earlier. He moved his lips against her in a sweet and delicate way as though she was fragile. She kissed him back lovingly before she felt him slightly push in his cock to her wet entrance. He pulled back and pressed his sweaty forehead against hers, eyes on each other. She nodded at him before he slid all the way into her tight core where she welcomed him. He bottomed out and started to move, stretching her for his thick length.

Gentle and slow was his pace as he whispered praises to her ear, reminding her how good she made him feel and how tight she was becoming. She was like a euphoric pill and his own, personal nirvana. The sounds she made as he continued to push in and out of her were angelic and flawless, though every once in a while, he would kiss her to keep her voice down so as to prevent her from waking up his brother.

“We don’t want any one to interrupt us now, do we?” He whispered, kissing her cheek.

Her climax was beginning to start once more as Sirius decided to speed up his thrusts. From slow and gentle, his pace became hard and fast. He was becoming erratic and rough since he was also starting to feel himself close. He kept his thrusts powerful, the head of his cock hitting her spot repeatedly.

“(Y/n), gonna cum! Gonna cum inside!”

“Come on, Sirius. I’m close too.”

The two moaned in chorus and with one last push, Sirius felt himself spill inside her. She came as soon as she felt the warm sensation flood her core, her juices mixing in with his. He kept himself inside her for a few minutes even as he softened, his face buried in her neck. He trailed kisses on her skin once more before he pulled out and laid back down beside her, the two panting heavily. After a few minutes of rest, they both fell asleep through the stormy night.

Rotten Judgement - part 3

AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Hercules!AU After selling your soul to save your lover’s life, you become one of the Lord of the Underworld’s slave. Bucky is obsessed with one thing: collecting hearts. But why?

Word Count:1,564

Warnings: Language, Angst, Slaves, Shape-shifting, Mythology, Jealousy…

A/N: Thank you for the lovely comments and replies ♥ I hope you guys like this chapter.

Rotten Judgement - Masterpage

A couple of weeks after the incident in the alley, you stood in line at Starbucks. While you waited, you glanced around the coffee shop. It was a typical busy day and the place was packed. You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your news feed to pass the time. Your eyes widened when you saw the headline.

“Notorious criminal dubbed ‘Crossbones’ found dead in cell.”

When the barista called your name, you snapped back to attention. You took your coffee and found a table near the front door. You set your cup and purse down on the table and read the article. The last sentence sent a chill down your spine.

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The List - Bruce Wayne x Reader (Quite NSFW)

Summary : You and Bruce, are making a list of all the people you slept with…Because why not ?

I just had this stupid idea when I was at work and sorry for it…hope you’ll still kinda like it and boom, here :

Do NOT read if NSFW/smutty things make you feel uncomfortable, you can go check my other fluffy and angsty stories instead, over there ;-) : 

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

________________________________________________

You don’t even remember who started it.

You don’t remember if it’s you who made a snarky comment first, or him.

You both were equally gifted in the sarcasm area, so it really could be any of you. And none of you could actually remember the instigator of it all…

But oh someone definitely started it, and now, you were both sitting on the floor around the coffee table of the living room, a pen in hand, a blank sheet of paper in front of you, thinking about all the people you had sex with. 

Or rather, about the people you had sex with and that you both knew. 

Who cared about some unknown guy from a bar, or a girl from a gala ? 

They meant nothing. They were just pleasure on the spot, something that didn’t matter at all and…to be honest, both you and Bruce didn’t care about those one night stands with people you didn’t give a damn about…You both knew you weren’t each other’s first time after all, and one night stands ? They were long over and there were not nearly as much as everyone thought…Bruce had only a few, and you too. And again, it was such a long time ago, and so meaningless (definitely not your favorite kind of sex, and Bruce would agree with that). 

This list was about the people you had sex with, with whom you shared part of your life, and/or someone you both knew. 

You knew almost everything about each others, but your past relationships ? You rarely talked about it. You never felt the need to, as you were too in love with each others for anyone else to really matter…

Both of you already stated multiple times, in your long years of marriage, that you never loved anyone like you loved each other. That all those past relationships were nothing compared to what you felt to each others. 

But…Curiosity always got the better of the two of you. 

And besides, when Bruce learnt that you used to date his best friend, Clark, he started to wonder if you slept with anyone else he knew, after all, you knew lots of Justice League members before knowing him so…He just wanted to know (he would never admit it, but he was quite jealous really. Grumpy Broosh). 

And so here you were, after one of you made a comment about it (wether it was you comparing Bruce to Clark or him saying something about Selina, you didn’t quite remember), writing a list. You were writing the last name on yours when Bruce raised his head and, very sternly said :

-I’m done.  

You smiled as you finished the last letter of the name you were writing and looked up, smiling at him. 

-Me too. 

Just another proof of how you were always so damn in sync, finished right at the same time. He doesn’t smile, and you smirk at him as you exchange papers. And…Exact same number than you. You quickly look over it and chuckle a bit, he detached his attention from your list (his frown getting bigger by the second as he was reading it), and, a bit suspicious, says : 

-What ? 

-Bruce, I think the two of us basically slept with the entire league. We’re super-sluts my heart. 

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No decency II pt.2

Jungkook x reader

genre: smut, fluff, stepbrother!jungkook

word count: 10k


The next week Jungkook’s attitude made a turn, letting you relax around him until a night escalated and you got to see a side of him you never thought he would reveal to you.

Originally posted by kookieinfirestae

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