he just wants to spend the day with her though. how can anyone turn down that face

So imagine after the war, Draco’s friends are thinking okay, Draco was only obsessed with Harry Potter because they were arch enemies but everything will go back to normal now. And then eighth year starts and nothing changes?

Draco is still staring at Harry Potter over the other side of the Great Hall, at breakfast, at lunch and at dinner. He still talks about how the great Harry Potter gets this or the boy who lived gets that. And the Slytherin are like ??? Why are you still obsessed with Harry? And Draco’s like ??? I’m not. We’re enemies remember? And his friends have to tell him no not anymore. You’re on the same side.

So Draco’s very confused for a while, not sure how he should be acting. And then he realises, even though he no longer hates Potter’s guts, he still wants to stare at him every meal. He still wants to find excuses to talk about him to his friends. He still wants to make snarky comments to Potter every class…but only because it’s the only time he gets to talk to him.

Despite all the warnings, it still hits Draco way too abruptly when he realises he’s in love with Harry Potter. He’s in the middle of a potions double when his eyes, completely of their own accord, latch on to Potter turning his head and laughing at something the Weasel said. Draco stares and stares as the realisation washes over him. He keeps staring even long after Potter has turned his head back to the front of the class and all he can see is messy black hair.

Pansy works it out first. Even before Draco’s potions epiphany. Although for once she understands the importance of keeping her mouth shut. So when Draco comes to her with his revelation, she is not at all surprised. And she is here to help. She convinces Draco to cool it with the snarky comments and work up the courage to actually talk to Potter.

And so - with plenty of encouragement - Draco does. At first it’s just small things like asking Potter for a spare quill in class, or saying excuse me politely as they pass rather than pushing into Potter. And then one day Draco works up the courage to say good morning to Potter when he runs into him in the Great Hall during breakfast. And Potter says good morning right back, albeit with a puzzled expression on his face.

Soon, Potter no longer looks puzzled. When Draco greets him, he returns the sentiment with a smile, that seems to grow with each day. It’s that smile which gives Draco the push he needs to approach Potter in the library one night and ask if he might like to share his table. An enthusiastic yes from Potter lights a small spark of hope in Draco’s pining heart.

Studying together becomes a habit most nights. It starts off silently, Draco happy to share his space with Potter but too nervous to think of anything further to say past a simple greeting. Thankfully one day it’s Potter who starts the first conversation. It’s one of those awkward small talk type conversations about the weather but it leads in to an animated discussion of Quidditch that keeps them talking well into the night, ignoring several reprimands from Madam Prince for being too loud in the library.

And so Draco and Harry - he’s no longer Potter - become friends. And Draco’s happy. Happier than he’s been in a long time. And his friends know. Not just Pansy. All the Slytherins. It’s obvious. Because despite spending most of his free time hanging out with Harry Potter, and professing to have no remaining hate for him at all, Draco still stares at him across the Great Hall, at breakfast, at lunch and at dinner.

And so Slytherins, being Slytherins, begin planning, with Pansy at the lead of course. They already know how Draco feels, they only need to get Harry Potter to realise his own feelings too, which they suspect match Draco’s. Because he might have his head down in the Great Hall but they’ve seen Harry stare at Draco during Quidditch games for far longer than strictly necessary.

And so they do something that Draco would completely disapprove of, solely for Draco’s own good. When they know Harry will be walking by the Quidditch lockers after a Gryffindor practice, they plant two of their own at a nearby bench and have them talking far louder than normal conversation requires.

“It’s really rather embarrassing. Draco’s been pining for ages. I’ve never seen anyone who had it so bad.”

“But who do you mean? I’ve only seen him hanging out with Potter.”

“Exactly. Potter. It’s tragic isn’t it? He’s in love with the boy who lived. He should probably queue up like all the other groupies just to get his autograph.”

While the two younger Slytherins continue their staged and poorly acted performance, (Pansy will have words with them later) Pansy, safely hidden with a disillusionment charm, watches Potter’s reaction closely and is not displeased. At the sound of Draco’s name, Potter stops immediately to eavesdrop which is telling in itself. When his own name comes into play, a blush creeps slowly up his face. And when Draco’s love for him is revealed, an involuntary smile appears on Harry’s face very very quickly. Pansy knows now they only have to wait.

Sure enough, at dinner that night, Harry Potter makes his move. Always one for dramatics, he walks right up to the Slytherin table and plants a short but deliberate kiss square on Draco’s face before Pansy even has time to let out a wolf whistle.

Draco sits there, mouth agape, pale face not so pale for once, until another Slytherin gives him a nudge on the shoulder. He looks up and blinks at Harry Potter who is smiling down at him. Once more Harry’s smile brings him courage. He stands up to meet Harry, conscious of every eye in the Great Hall on him, and kisses Harry Potter right back.

And it’s the Slytherins who lead the cheers that erupt across the Great Hall. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. At last.

Thrive // h.h

A/N: wow I went overboard with this and it’s really all over the place so if you’re confused feel free to message me so I can make things clearer. 

This is my first imagine for Harry Hook so I don’t really have his character down yet, also I really hate the ending but I didn’t want it to go on forever so I needed to finish it up.

Being the fifth wheel in a group of some of the most infamous VK’s has never been Y/N’s ideal life, but when approached by the four most feared kids on an island, one does not simply say no.

She hangs around as almost a form of protection, the stigma of the four keeping others away from her. Almost like a security blanket, she can count on having a place in the corner of Mal’s apartment, even if she only stood in the shadows.

Then one day that protection vanishes, the core four summoned to Auradon on Prince Ben’s orders, leaving her behind with nothing.

Two months later she makes her way down an alley way, tugging down the sleeves on her jacket as she nears Ursula’s Chip Shop.

Practically the entire restaurant freezes as she enters, drawing the attention of two teens in particular.

“Well well well,” the teal haired girl sing-songs, dropping a tray onto a table as she walks by, “what do we have here?”

She walks up to the girl, eyebrows raised.

“Tell me Harry,” Uma asks, circling around the her, “are we taking in strays?”

“Hm, I dunno,” the boy replies, smirk on his face, “she’s cute though, maybe we should keep her. I could use another play thing.”

“I just came for food,” Y/N replies, crossing her arms over her chest, “not to join some kiddy pirate crew.”

Uma place a hand on Harry’s chest before he can rush forward, her eyebrows raised slightly.

“Impressive,” she mutters, nodding, “take a seat, I’ll have a server sent your way.”

The girl sits down on a stool, all to aware of the boy who now occupies the seat next to her.

“It’s a shame darlin’,” he drawls, leaning his chin on his hand, “we could’ve had lots of fun together.”

“Never thought you’d want anything to do with me,” she replies, raising an eyebrow, “last I checked I was part of Mal’s crew, not Uma’s.”

“And last time I checked,” Harry smirked, “your little crew are now frolicking around the fields of Auradon, and you’re still here. No crew, no friends, no nothing.”

The girl clenches her fist under the table, swallowing back her words.

“Your point?” She asks.

The pirate smirks, twirling his hook around in his hand.

“Just plotting love,” he says, standing up, “I’ll see you ‘round.”

That is the first of many encounters with the infamous pirate teen, it seems as if every time she turns a corner he’s there, a smirk on his face, the hook in his hand and a backhanded complement dripping off his lips.

Four months after Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos left for Auradon she’s walking through the Isle, hands shoved in her pockets.

“Hello there love,” he says from behind her, a half smile appearing on her face, “fancy seeing you here.”

“Is it?” She asks, keeping her stride as Harry falls into step next to her. “Don’t you know where I am at all times? Isn’t that the job of a stalker?”

“I’m offended you would even think I would stoop to that level,” he says, placing a hand on his heart in fake shock.

“What do you want Hook?” She questions, leaning against the brick wall.

“I’ve got a proposition for you,” he replies.

“Do you now?” She smirks. “And is this your proposition or Uma’s?”

“Both,” Harry answers, twirling his necklace around in his fingers, “come to the chip shop tonight, two a.m. We want to talk.”

With that, the pirate turns on his heel and walks down the alley.

“And if I don’t?” She calls.

“You will.”

And she does, at two a.m. on the dot she shoves her way into the shop, one hand on her hip.

“She’s a prompt one,” Uma says from the back.

“Mother always taught me to be on time,” she says sarcastically, making her way towards her.

“Mother’s always give the best advice,” Uma replies, gesturing for the girl to sit down.

“So what is this,” Y/N asks, “I’ve already told you that I don’t have any info on Mal and her friends, haven’t heard from any of them since they left.”

“Nah it ain’t about that,” Uma shakes her head, leaning on her elbows on the counter, “I want…well, we want you to join our crew. Not an entry level type thing, I want you up with us, with me and Harry and Gil. I wanna add a fourth to our ranks.”

“Why me?” She questions, leaning forward. “You could get anyone on this island, especially since Mal left, so why me?”

“Power,” Uma shrugs, “simple as that. You were on Mal’s crew, you’ve got status here. You need a crew and I need a fourth member, figured we could help each other out.”

“You’d be willing to work with me?” Y/N questions, noticing Harry lurking in the background. “And your crew would too?”

“They don’t have a choice,” Uma replies, “but yes, I am willing.”

“And you?” Y/N throws her question at Harry, keeping her eyes trained on Uma.

She sees Harry smirk from the corner of her eye.

“Welcome aboard princess.”

A few days later Y/N joins the pirate crew aboard their ship, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’ll teach you the ropes,” Harry says, “literally and figuratively. You’ll pick it up in no time.”

The two teens spend practically every minute of every day together for the next few weeks, becoming incredibly close incredibly fast.

“We’ve been working hard all day love,” Harry says, leaning against the mast as the girl turns to look at him, “let’s go on a walk.”

“You sure Uma is okay with that?” She asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Uma doesn’t control every single thing I do,” he rolls his eyes, “c'mon, lets have a rest.”

“Walk me down the beach?” She suggests, holding her hand out to him.

Harry takes it gladly.

“After you princess.”

The two teens walk down the sand, hands still intertwined.

“So I know that ‘dating’ isn’t really a thing here,” she starts, “but you and Uma…is that a thing or?”

“Me and Uma?” The pirate laughs. “Nah, we’re just mates, the best of friends I would say. We’ve been friends since we were toddlers. Why?”

“Just curious,” she shrugs, staring at the shore line.

“I would call dating a thing here though,” Harry says, “it maybe be different than what they have there at Boradon,” Y/N laughs at his nickname for the mainland, “but it’s still a thing. We may be villains, but we’re allowed to fall in love, to get as close to a happy ending as possible.”

“You think we deserve that?” Y/N asks. “Cause I think the people over there think we deserve to pay for the sins of our parents.”

“Doesn’t matter what they think,” Harry replies, “they don’t know what life’s like over here, they don’t get a say in what we deserve.”

“I like that,” she smiles.

“I like you,” Harry says, biting down slightly on his lip as he looks at her.

“Yeah?” She asks, a half smile on her face as the boy nods. “I like you too.”

Harry’s smirk widens, his hand squeezing hers as they continue to walk down the beach.

“We should head back soon,” Y/N says quietly, “I promised Uma I’d cover a shift at the shop tonight.”

“Kiss me first,” Harry says, turning her around so they’re face to face instead of next to each other, “then we’ll go back.”

She does as he asks, smiling as she presses her lips to his. She feels his hand cup her cheek, the slight sea breeze blowing through her hair.

“More of that later?” She questions, causing Harry to smirk again.

“Much more of that later, love,” he says, taking his hat off of his head and placing it on hers, “much more.”

Six months after Mal left the Isle, she came back. Y/N sits in Ursula’s shop, she felt Mal’s presence before Harry even told her.

“She’s back isn’t she,” the girl asks as her boyfriend plops into the seat next to her, “I can feel it.”

“Yeah, she is,” Harry replies, “saw her at Tremaine’s salon, how are you doing?”

“I guess ’m okay,” she shrugs, “but that girl essentially left me for dead, right now all I want to do is see the look on her face when she realizes I thrived while she was gone, that I don’t need her or her posse to run this town.”

“You’re so hot when you’re revengeful,” Harry growls, surging forward and practically smashing their lips together in a heated mess.

“Oh get a room you two,” Uma says a few minutes later, practically throwing a tray down on the bar for Gil.

Harry pulls away from her, only to press another short, bruising kiss to her lips.

“I’ve got a plan,” Uma says, leaning against the counter, “you ready for this?”

Her question is pointed at Y/N, the girl smirks.

“I’m ready for anything.”

Much to Y/N’s surprise, Mal actually shows up to the shop. Uma practically growls, walking up to the purple haired girl as Harry slides an arm around Y/N’s shoulders.

“How ya doin’?” He whispers, lips ghosting over her ear as he kisses the skin gently.

“She may have changed her look, but she hasn’t changed her attitude,” the girl says, “she hated being bad, deep down she always wanted to be like the kids in Auradon, no amount of hair dye and leather can change that.”

As Mal and Uma talk, the purple haired girl’s eyes shift around the shop, landing on the couple near the back.

Y/N presses kisses to Harry’s jaw line, taking the tri-horned hat off of his head and placing it on hers, a smirk playing on her lips as she sees Mal turn her gaze back to Uma.

“And what exactly did that accomplish?” Harry questions playfully.

“Maybe nothing, probably nothing,” Y/N shrugs, smiling up at him, “but it was fun.”

“You’re evil,” Harry mumbles.

“You love it.”

“Hmm,” he hums, grin on his face, “that I do.”

“Walk me home?” She asks, intertwining their fingers.

“After you,” Harry replies, opening the back door for them to leave.

The couple makes their way down the alley, Harry’s arm around her shoulders and their fingers intertwined.

“No no I’m serious,” Y/N says with a light laugh, “she froze the entire kingdom and then turned her own sister to ice.”

“Sounds like she belongs over here,” Harry replies, “not in Auradon.”

“Must be because she’s of royal blood,” the girl shrugs, “but who knows.”

The conversation comes to a halt when Y/N’s eyes land on her used-to-be friends standing in the alley way.

“Y/N?” Evie questions with surprise. “You’re still here?”

“Where else would I be?” Y/N shoots back harshly, Harry squeezing her hand gently.

“What’s going on here?” Jay asks, hopping down from his perch above the alley.

“Just trying to get home,” Y/N replies, “what are you all doing here?”

“Getting Ben,” Carlos answers, glaring at Harry, “no thanks to this clown.”

Y/N places a hand on Harry’s chest, holding him back.

“Just leave it,” she whispers, shaking her head, “they’re not worth it.”

“You’ve changed,” Jay says, crossing his arms, “last thing I remember you wouldn’t go near Uma or her crew.”

“Yeah well,” she shrugs, looking up at Harry, “I had to survive somehow, the only friends I had deserted me. And things just…happened.”

Harry kisses her forehead, Carlos’s jaw practically hitting the floor.

“Well that’s…” he searches for words, eye darting around the alley, “new.”

“Time to go?” Harry asks in a whisper, the girl nodding in agreement.

“Good luck getting your friend back,” she says, “you’re gonna need it.”

The two of them swagger off, Harry spinning the hook around in his hand.

“You’ve gained more confidence since they left,” he says, “it’s hot. I’m proud of you.”

“All thanks to you,” she replies, “when I was friends with them I felt…weak. Like I was a charity case or something, but when I’m with you and Uma and Gil I feel…powerful. I feel like I matter.”

“You do matter,” Harry replies, “and we’re gonna rule Auradon together. And no one is going to ever make you feel like you don’t matter again.”

“Promise?” She questions, smile on her face as she cups his cheeks.

“Promise,” he smiles, kissing her hard, “we’re gonna rule the world princess.”

“We ride with the tide.”

Maleficent is a dragon who cursed an infant because she wasn’t invited to a christening, this woman CANNOT raise a child.

Queen Griemhilde is a conceited, vain witch who killed a 14 year old because she was prettier than her, this woman CANNOT raise a child.

Jafar hypnotised the sultan, got himself turned into a magician, a genie, just for power and forced a 15 year old to be his slave girl, this man CANNOT raise a child.

Cruella DeVil is a mentally ill woman whose affection consists of derogatory comments, blowing smoke in your face and never taking no for an answer, this woman CANNOT raise a child.

So, let’s say Evie, Carlos, Mal and Jay grow up on an island without magic, surrounded by murderers, thieves, people who did bad things, people who are proud of these things. Let’s say, they don’t teach them to be evil. Let’s say, they teach them ‘don’t let anyone keep you from what you want, you are a queen, a dragon, a genie, you are magic’. Ben has dreams about a girl with green eyes and lilac hair, of a girl who is different, something fae, and he remembers the fairy who cursed his father because he wasn’t kind, so he asks his parents to let some of the villain’s kids stay in Auradon. Show them goodness.

When they arrive, they don’t arrive in a tumbling mess. They don’t even get out of the car, and when the chauffeur opens the door, there’s a stick thin girl with long blue hair staring at her hands, a muscled boy who almost isn’t a boy anymore, rubbing the bands on his arms, the girl from his dreams, eyes glowing, a little boy dressed in fur curled up in their laps.
They aren’t used to magic, even though it is in their very cores. So they take time to get used to it, to learn to live with death and power under their skin.

They weren’t sent to get a wand for world domination. They were sent to get a wand for freedom. So it takes them longer to realise just what their parents did. It takes talks and family day and Queen Leiah screaming at the top of her lungs (‘Get away from here, do not touch my grandchild, my daughter will never be mine because of you, how dare you, how dare you?’) for Mal to realise that this isn’t about invitations and pettiness. It’s about a woman with hair as yellow as gold and lips that shame the red red rose, growing up poor, in a cottage, falling to her death at the touch of a spindle, this is about her mother talking about the raven with more fondness than her, this is about all the things her mother did, no matter the reason.

Evie still studies with Doug, and she hasn’t been taught to score a prince, she’s been taught to use her beauty, it is all men want, get rid of them before they get rid of you, do NOT die. So she meets with Doug at his house and Dopey stares at her and then he gets Snow White, who breaks down crying at the sight of this thin, beautiful girl with hair in a colour that has haunted her sleep ('what did she do to you, was it not enough for her to kill me, what has she done to you’) and Evie realises that her mother’s stories are not about men, they are about this woman, about her sister, who was 14 and beautiful and dead. And this is about her and all the bones she can count when she looks in the mirror.

Jay befriends the only other Arabian speaking children he can find, plays gurney, ruthless and self centered and for him, and one day Aladdin picks his children up and Jay does one of those backflips where he stays in the air for too long and it knocks the wind out of him. Jay doesn’t understand because of Aladdin, he sees a thief, who is like him, but it isn’t what makes him think, tourney does the trick because they are a team and the world does not revolve around him, he is not the center of the universe.

Carlos knows that his mother is wrong from the moment he is old enough to master critical thinking. She shrieks and hits and worships fur and he spends his days begging for scraps. There’s no magic in him, no rush he gets from crossing the barrier, so he helps his friends. They have always been his lifeline, so maybe now he can be theirs.

Cuddling With...

Request: Cuddling with anyone tbh will be gr8 thank youu

A/N: Just some drabbles about a whole bunch of people I absolutely adore to be quite honest. 

Word Count: N/A


Newt Scamander-

“Please come back to bed, (Y/N)…” A sleepy Newt called out to you as he grasped around the bed in search of your warm body. You padded out of the bathroom and smiled at his adorable and pouty self. His brown curls were messy, eyes heavily lidded due to his half awake state, and the blankets were wrapped tightly around him. 

“I’ll coming, just had to use the bathroom, Newt.” You chided and slipped back under the covers, immediately curling into his side and he sighed in content. 

“Thank you. It was quite cold without you, love.” He murmured into your hair as his arms wrapped around your body, drawing you in as close as possible. His fingers traced delicate patterns on the small of your back as his lips pressed a small kiss on your forehead. You couldn’t help but giggle at how affectionate and cute he was half asleep. Your hands went up to meet his hair and allowed your fingers to weave through the soft locks. It was going to be a lazy day and you were perfectly fine with that if it meant spending time with your favourite Hufflepuff.

Queenie Goldstein- 

Your reading time was quickly cut off when Queenie took her place beside you and poked at your arm. You set the book down, turned your head to face the woman and arched your eyebrow.

“Yes, love?” You asked, though you already knew what she wanted. It wasn’t as if you could read her mind, but she’d only interrupt you while reading if she was in dire need of attention. She smiled sweetly up to you and moved to press a kiss on your cheek tenderly. You shifted all your attention towards her, forgetting about the book’s plot. ‘Save it for another time.’ You thought. 

“Just bored is all. You’re always spending time reading instead of talking.” She commented and rested her head on your shoulder. You chuckled and rolled your eyes before proceeding to wrap your arms around her.

“You got my attention. Happy yet, gorgeous?” You asked her.

“Yes I am.” She beamed. 

Sirius Black-

“Baaabeeee.” Sirius groaned, tugging at your arm childishly as you tried to finish an essay for potions. When you didn’t immediately respond to his pleas, he moved until you could see his face and pouted, complete with the loving-yet-annoying puppy dog eyes. 

“Ten more minutes, Sirius, okay? Almost done.” You mumbled, trying to ignore his cute facial expression because the minute you looked, you melted and give into his pleas. His voice was raised about three octaves when he said, “What?!” and you looked down at him, shrugging your shoulders. The boy shook his head and picked you up before you even knew what was going on. 

“No, I want to cuddle with you right now. Your potions essay can wait, it’s not even due for a few days.” He stated and set you down on the couch by the roaring fire. You allowed him to wrap his arms around your torso, already giving up at fighting against this. He was quite warm after all and maybe you could spare thirty minutes for Sirius’ pleasure. You laid your head against his chest and deeply inhaled the scent that could only be described as Sirius. He peppered kisses along your collarbones and you hummed at his affection. 

“Not so bad, is it, baby?” He muttered against your skin and you merely giggled in response. Not so bad, indeed.

Remus Lupin-

How you two ended up, limbs tangled together, with books strewn everywhere on the bed, was a mystery to you both. One minute you had been studying late into the night with each other, and then you two were cuddling. Not the worst thing to be doing on a chilly night, you had to admit.

“Remus…” You murmured to the boy as you gently tapped a rhythm on his chest while he rubbed small circles on your shoulder blades, relieving the tension that built up over the past few days. He stopped what he was doing and looked at you and pecked your nose.

“Yes, my love?” He acknowledged while tugging your body closer to his. 

“Just wanted to say I’m thankful for you, is all.” You chirped and kissed his jawline. He, in return, gave you a lazy smile and moved his head down to give you a proper kiss on the lips. You smiled against his lips, giddy for who knows what. Probably because you were with Remus and finally got to relax after a stressful week. 

“As am I.”  

Draco Malfoy-

“Draco, I’m cold.” You complained and opened your arms up, hoping he’d take the invite and come cuddle with you. When he didn’t look over right away, you pouted and let out an exasperated sigh. That got his attention and he looked over at you, eyebrow arched and a smirk adorning his lips.

“I’ll take care of that.” He drawled and approached you. The boy sat down beside you then moved your frame until you were resting comfortably in his lap. You giggled and began to pepper kisses along his jawline and neck. Draco responded by squeezing your waist and leaning his head back. 

“Warmer now,  princess?” He chuckled and lowered his head to capture your lips with his own. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, brushing the platinum locks at the base of his neck. You pulled away from him and beamed. 

“Always warmer with you around, Draco.” With this statement, he pulled you closer to his body and nodded his head, content with your answer. You could hear him mutter a ‘good’ under his breath, making you smile. 


Want a second installment of this? Leave a suggestion for who else should be included for this mini drabble!

and as always

Have an idea on what you’d like me to write? Drop a prompt in my inbox and I’ll do my best to fulfill your request!

anonymous asked:

Hello!! Can I ask for a friend zoned MC feeling unrequited love to the RFA + V & Unknown which ends in a "I like you god damn it" confession?? And they like you back?? Thank youuuu (: I love your blog btw

Author’s note: sorry this is so rushed I have to post Saeran/V’s separate bc this is so long || So some of these aren’t as much confessions as they are cute, BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY THEM NONETHELESS ♥

Yoosung

  • “To the left, MC!!!! NO, YOUR OTHER LEFT!”
  • You smashed the buttons of your controller down, hoping something good would happen
  • I have no idea what I’m doing.
  • “Uhh, Yoosung?”
  • “Hmm?”
  • “I think I just died.”
  • “WHAT?”
  • You set your controller down and glanced over at your best friend
  • His eyes were glued to the screen, tongue sticking slightly out just like it always does when he’s focused on something
  • The light from the monitor flashed white and Yoosung jerked forward, causing your knees to collide
  • You felt your face heat up at the skin on skin connection
  • “A-Ah, Yoosung?”
  • “Not now, MC, I think I can win this!!”
  • Yoosung leaned over in front of you, trying to get a better angle of the screen
  • You got a whiff of Yoosung’s shampoo and your heart skipped a beat 
  • I don’t know how he smells this good after playing video games all day.
  • You involuntarily reached out and ran your fingers through his hair
  • “…So soft.”
  • For a second you though you felt Yoosung leaning into your touch
  • But that’s probably my imagination…
  • The screen flashed again and Yoosung turned around to look at you
  • He was still leaning over on your side, your faces now inches apart
  • “I won!”
  • Yoosung gave you a close eyed smile
  • That damn smile.
  • When you didn’t respond to him, Yoosung frowned
  • “What’s wrong, MC?”
  • “…”
  • Screw it.
  • You summoned every ounce of strength you had and closed the gap between his lips and yours
  • Before Yoosung could react, you pulled away
  • “U-Uhhh,” you looked at Yoosung’s bright red face, “Congrats on the win?”
  • Do it!! Tell him how you feel!
  • “Yoosung, I-“
  • “M-Me too.”

Zen

  • It was just another average friend date with Zen
  • You, him, a small bistro, hundreds of fans all begging to get a picture with him
  • Just a normal day
  • “Zen, over here!!!”
  • “Sorry about the flash, I just HAVE to make sure it’s a good picture.”
  • “Are you stupid??? ALL of Zen’s pictures are good!”
  • You turned to look at your friend, who was soaking up as much of the limelight as possible
  • This dork…
  • He stood up and tapped on his glass with a fork
  • “Ladies, ladies, you can all get a picture with your Zenny, just be patient!”
  • “Since when are you theirs?” you mumbled, crossing your arms
  • Zen glanced back at you
  • Crap, did he hear me?
  • You gave him a big smile and a thumbs up
  • That ought to throw him off his tracks.
  • Zen turned back to the sea of fans
  • “I’ll be outside in ten minutes, so if everyone could make a line outside, that would be perfect!”
  • In the blink of an eye the restaurant was empty again, a flood of screaming girls and guys retreating outside to wait for their prince
  • A sigh of relief escaped your lips as Zen sat down
  • “Are you mad at me?”
  • You looked down at your food and began messing with it
  • “Don’t play with your food, MC.”
  • “Okay, mom.”
  • He sighed, “If you aren’t going to answer my question I’ll just go outside right now.”
  • Zen put his hands on the table and started to push himself up
  • “W-Wait.”
  • You grabbed his arm and pulled him back down
  • “I’m not mad at you,” you sighed, “I’m just mad that we never get to spend time together like we used to.”
  • Zen put his hand on top of yours and leaned in toward you
  • “What do you mean? I see you all the time up at work!!”
  • You stared at his hand
  • He’s touching me.
  • He’s holding my hand.
  • ZEN is holDING MY FREAKING-
  • “MC???”
  • You awkwardly coughed and pulled your hand away
  • “Y-Yeah, uh no… what were we talking about?”
  • Zen leaned back in his chair
  • “Never mind… let’s just eat.”
  • He lifted up his glass of water to his lips
  • Those lips…
  • “I love you.”
  • “WHAT?”
  • “DAMNIT ZEN!”
  • You pushed away from the table and stood up
  • “You spit all over my shirt,” you gestured down to the wet material that clung to your chest, “my WHITE shirt!!’
  • “W-Well you said that you… you love me.”
  • “Ah… that.”
  • And all of sudden, the floor became veryyyyy interesting
  • I wish I had the power of invisibility…
  • “MC, look at me.”
  • While you were contemplating superpowers, Zen had taken the time to walk over and stand in front of you
  • “Nah, I think I’m good,” you continued looking down, “the floor happens to be my favorite shade of… brown.”
  • A soft and warm hand tilted your chin up, and your eyes met his scarlet ones
  • “I love you too.”
  • You slowly leaned in-
  • “ZENNY, WE’RE WAITING~”
  • Offff course.
  • Zen stepped back and glanced at the girl peeking through the front door
  • There was the click of a camera and a squeal, and she was gone again
  • Zen scratched the back of his head
  • “Sorry, I guess it’s-whoa whoa WHOA, what are you doing????
  • You flung your wet shirt over the back of the chair and shivered
  • “Man, this place is kinda cold,” you looked up and smirked, “then again, I am wearing just a bra.”
  • You heard a very inhumane noise come from the back of Zen’s throat
  • “The fans can wait.”
  • Zen grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his chest, his lips crashing against yours
  • The beast was NOT contained that night

Jaehee

  • On your way out of the RFA building you glanced at your watch
  • Damn… it’s already 11pm? I stayed waaaaayyyy too late.
  • When you walked past the break room you heard the familiar sound of the copy machine clunking turning on
  • “…damn Jumin and his damn reports-“
  • I wonder if that’s…
  • “-with his damn cat and the damn cat wine.”
  • Yup, that’s Jaehee.
  • You peeked in the room and watched as she stuffed a stack of papers into the copy tray
  • She wiped her hands on her skirt and sat in the chair next to the whirring machine
  • “You should go talk to her.”
  • “WhAT THE-“
  • Seven put a hand over your mouth and pulled you away from the door
  • Jaehee glanced up and sighed
  • “Anyone there?”
  • Seven removed his hand and you lowered your voice to a whisper
  • “What the hell do you want?”
  • He glanced at the breakroom and then back to you, giving you his famous ‘I have an idea that could go horribly wrong or perfectly right’ look
  • “Good luck,” was all he said before grabbing you and harshly shoving you in the breakroom
  • “WAIT-”
  • But it was too late
  • In a flash the redhead was gone, and you were alone with Jaehee
  • She looked up and smiled
  • “MC? I didn’t know you were here so late! It’s nice to have some company.”
  • You stared at her, unsure of what to say
  • S-So cute…
  • “U-Uhh, yeah…”
  • Jaehee stood up and stretched, letting out a tiny yawn
  • “How much longer does Jumin have you here?”
  • She picked up the warm copies from the tray and leaned up against the machine
  • “I just have to run this back to his office and I’m done! At least, until he inevitably calls me at midnight asking for more cat food…”
  • You walked with her to Jumin’s office, continuing to listen to her rant about his late night antics
  • When the two of you finally got there, she plopped the papers in a box outside the door
  • “H-Hey, Jaehee?”
  • She glanced over at you
  • “Hmm?”
  • “You wanna go grab some late night coffee? Since, you know, Jumin should be calling you in about,” you checked your watch, “30 minutes.”
  • “Sure!! That’s exactly the pick me up I need, a nice little friend date!”
  • Hold up.
  • “…Friend date?”
  • “Yeah, I was thinking-”
  • “I like you. A lot.”
  • Jaehee stopped and turned to you
  • “A-As a friend?”
  • You stepped closer, “More than a friend.”
  • Her eyes widened and a deep blush spread across her cheeks
  • “Oh…”
  • “Oh?”
  • You felt your heart break in two
  • She doesn’t feel the same… dammit, this is why you never fall in love with a straight girl.
  • Tiny hands wrapped around your own, causing you to look back up
  • Jaehee had a soft smile spread across her lips
  • “Me too… a-about the not friend thing.”
  • Her gripped tightened, “Not that I don’t consider you a friend! I’m just, well, what I’m trying to say, or rather, what want to say-”
  • “Would you two KISS ALREADY???”
  • Both of your heads snapped in the direction of the voice
  • “Seven, whyyyyy are you still here?”
  • “Still?”
  • “Yeah, he was here earlier when-”
  • “-When I set you guys up!”
  • As you and Seven began arguing, Jaehee looked between the two of you and sighed
  • She interlocked fingers with you and pulled you away
  • “Sorry, Luciel, but we have a date to get to.”
  • You stuck your tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes
  • “Whatever… have fun you two love birdddssss!!”
  • You looked over at Jaehee and smiled
  • Oh, we will.

Jumin

  • Dammit, he closed the blinds.
  • You rolled your chair closer and angled your head in an attempt to see into Jumin’s office again
  • “Peeping tom much?
  • “Shut it.”
  • Zen sighed and leaned up against your desk
  • “I still don’t understand what you see in him.”
  • You rolled your eyes and looked over at Zen
  • “You promised you’d be supportive-
  • “-And I am,” he held up his hands in surrender, “I just think you could do better.”
  • “What? Like date you?”
  • “Well, not that much better.”
  • Zen smirked and you playfully hit him in the stomach
  • Within the next second the two of you burst out laughing
  • “Wow,” you wiped a tear from your eye, “I don’t even know why that was so funny.”
  • “Me neith-”
  • “MC,” Jumin’s voice boomed, “Can I see you in my office?”
  • Zen raised his eyebrows and pushed himself off your desk
  • “Good luck,” he glanced back, “with him, you’ll need it.”
  • You rolled your eyes and stood up, cringing when your knees made a loud pop
  • Could my body, like, not embarrass me? No? Alllllllrighty.
  • You walked into the room and Jumin closed the door behind him
  • “So, what’s up?”
  • Jumin turned around and sighed
  • “I believe some… congratulations are in order.”
  • Huh?
  • “Did I get a raise?”
  • Jumin chuckled, taking one big step toward you
  • “No, I’m talking about you and Zen.”
  • …Huh?
  • “I’m a little lost… what do you mean-”
  • “Your relationship. Are you not romantically involved with each other?”
  • “Huh?”
  • Said that one out loud this time…
  • You mentally kicked yourself, “Zen and I are just friends.”
  • “Just friends?”
  • “Purely platonic.”
  • Jumin scratched his chin, completely lost in thought
  • You took a deep breath
  • Here goes everything nothing.
  • “…I actually have my eye on someone else.”
  • Jumin snapped back into reality
  • “Who? If that, well, if it isn’t too much to ask.”
  • Crap. Crapcrapcrapcrap-
  • “Is it really not Zen?”
  • Oh my god.
  • “You know,” you grabbed his tie, “you’re pretty clueless for a CEO.”
  • In one gentle tug, your lips connected with his
  • After a few seconds, Jumin pulled away
  • “So, it’s me then?”
  • You shook your head and grinned
  • “Of course, you-“
  • Jumin’s lips crashed on to yours again,his hands cupping your face
  • And let’s just say you were now very thankful for the closed blinds

Seven

  • “Wrench.”
  • “WRENCH!”
  • “Screwdriver.”
  • “SCREWDRIVER!!”
  • You grabbed the two tools from Seven’s hand
  • “You know, you don’t have to repeat everything I say.”
  • “Repeat everything I-OUCH! MC, why’d you kick meeee?”
  • Seven hugged his shin and hopped up and down
  • I’m surprised he has this much energy at 2 in the morning….
  • You looked back up at Seven, who had miraculously gotten over his bruised shin and was chugging a can of Dr. Pepper
  • …Who am I kidding, he never sleeps anyways.
  • It had been about an hour since Seven called you asking for help fixing his chair
  • You had gone to the furniture store IKEA anyone??? with him earlier that day and actually took the time to READ the damn manual
  • Anddddd, done!”
  • You clapped your hands together and smiled
  • “Wanna test it out?”
  • Seven gave you a mischievous grin
  • “Don’t mind if I do!”
  • Before you knew it, Seven grabbed your waist and pulled you into his lap, causing both of you to fall back into the chair
  • It creaked under the combined weight of you and Seven, but surprisingly remained stable
  • “Hey, you really did fix it!!”
  • Seven began spouting off nonsense about how crappy it was earlier, but you were too busy thinking about the fact that you were sitting
  • In his lap
  • INCHES away from his face
  • He’s so warm…
  • “-Plus, it kept making weird noises! I’m so glad you came over tonight.”
  • “Mmhmm.”
  • “Uh, earth to MC?? Agent 707 calling, can you read me??”
  • You shook you head, zoning back in
  • Seven sighed, relaxing back into the chair
  • “Thank God Seven you’re okay… I can’t have my best friend dying on me… literally,” Seven chuckled at his own joke
  • I love that little laugh.
  • “Dammit…”
  • Seven looked back at you
  • “What’s on your mind, MC?”
  • “You.”
  • DID I JUST SAY THAT OUT LOUD?
  • “W-What?”
  • Here we go.
  • “Seven, I like you.”
  • “You mean,” Seven furrowed his brows, “You like me, or you like-like me?”
  • You rolled your eyes, how old is he again??
  • “You’re so ridiculous.”
  • Seven looked at you patiently
  • “I like-like you.”
  • You felt lips lightly press on the back of your neck
  • “Well that’s not fair,” Seven tightened his grip on your waist, “because I love-love you.”
When An Ex Tries To Get Back With His Pregnant Wife (Mafia AU, Requested)

~Kim Namjoon~

You and Namjoon took a stroll through Seoul, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. It wasn’t often he could publicly go out with you for fear of someone harming you. With both of you dressed in masks and hats, adding sunglasses for extra measure, you took a morning walk to fetch baby supplies.

Namjoon hated when you hid your bump even if it wasn’t on purpose. So when you shrugged on the long black rain coat, he pouted in an adorable fashion.

Your thoughts fled you when you spotted an adorable pair of bright pink VANS made for newborns. You tugged on Namjoon’s long sleeve like a child yourself.

“Hang on, I’ll go in and buy them. Why don’t you look at the clothes while you wait?” You squealed and gave him a peck on the cheek before you scanned through the children’s clothes while Namjoon checked out.

“Y/n?” That voice made you freeze. You looked over your shoulder to the man with the wide grin. It was your ex. Your first real relationship. “I haven’t seen you in years! How are you?” He moved in for a hug but a strong hand caught the collar of his jacket.

“Can I help you?” Namjoon’s voice was rough and cold, the same one used with interrogating. Your husband fitted himself tightly between you and your ex.

“It’s alright Joonie. He’s an old friend.” Namjoon relaxed under your soft touch. Before he could open his mouth to apologize, the other man had scurried off to hide. Namjoon chuckled and handed you the small bag with the shoes.

“You do realize I know that was your ex, right?”

Originally posted by yoonseok

~Kim Seokjin~

Jin was overprotective of you during your pregnancy. Always keeping a hand on your stomach or keeping you no further than arms distance. So when you went out for an evening walk to catch some fresh air, Jin was right there. You were dressed in only his t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts.

Jin begged you to at least put on a coat but you shook your head and exited onto the street. Your penthouse apartment was in the center of the city, courtesy of Jin himself. So the street was damn near packed even at this time of night.

You had a bag of your favorite chips stuffed in one hand and shoved them in your mouth. Jin was leaning against the doorway, secretly admiring you from afar. That was until a man continually stared at you from the other side of the street.

“Y/n? Y/n L/n?” The man approached you with a warm smile: you nearly chocked on your chips. Jin knew not to be hasty, but his anger boiled. “How’s life? You look as beautiful as ever!” That’s when his gaze dropped to your stomach. “Deadbeat dad?”

Before you could answer your ex had raised his hand. “No need to explain. Why don’t I take you out for dinner. We could catch up.”

“She won’t be needing your company. Hi, I’m the deadbeat dad!” Jin wrapped his arm around you shoulder and stuck out his hand in a threatening manner. Your ex stuttered, and when Jin leaned in closer, he took off into the crowd of people.
You rolled your eyes at Jin’s behavior and kissed his throat. “Cmon “Deadbeat” let’s go back inside.“

Originally posted by the8-carat

~Min Yoongi~

“Yoongi, I just want some Ice Cream!” Nobody in their right mind would wake up Yoongi while he was sleeping. He was scary as hell when disturbed. But you were even scarier when you didn’t get what you wanted. It was 2am and Yoongi wouldn’t budge. Even if you knew how dangerous it was to go out alone, you were having bad cravings.

You flipped on the closet light and fished out a sweatshirt and stretchy pants. When you tried to tip-toe across the bedroom, Yoongi groaned.

“Where do you think your going?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Three words. Ice cream run.”

“Give me 5 minutes.” Five minutes it was on the dot. You were at the 24 hour supermarket and was loading the buggy with ice cream. Pickles sounded good right about now. So when Yoongi kneeled down to grab a gallon of Cookies and Cream, you snuck off to the pickles.

Of course the world had damned you and put them on the highest shelf. With one hand over your stomach, you stood on your yippie toes to reach them. A longer arm however plucked them up first. You turned to see your ex, dressed in an apron that the employees wore.

“Here you go mi- Y/n? Damn you look as fine as ever!” You clenched your teeth at his comment. His immature behavior is why you left him in the first place. He was a sleazy dog and he knew it. “You put on a few pounds but that’s alright. Why don’t you meet me after work?” He started to approach you with a wicked grin on his face.

“Back off!” Yoongi forced himself in front of you and stood at attention. You could practically see the hair on the back of his neck stand up much like a dog. “If you touch her, I’ll make sure you lose every last one of your fingers. Now give me the damn pickles.” Your ex hastily handed Yoongi the pickles and ran off in the opposite direction.

You frowned and grabbed the jar. “He got Bread and Butter…” you pouted. Yoongi just chuckled at your behavior and nuzzled the skin behind your ear.

Originally posted by yoonseok

~Jung Hoseok~

Hoseok and you were having a lazy day. Namjoon had insisted Hoseok work from home to spend extra time with you and his unborn child. You were lazily drawing circles on your belly button, feeling the soft flutter of hiccups from your precious baby boy. Hoseok placed his hand in the same exact spot where the movement happened, and smiled with delight when a little foot pressed against his hand.

“He’s fussy today.” You groaned and placed a hand on your lower back, rolling a little to wrap a leg around Hoseok’s waist. He ha show laptop on the arm of the couch and used his other hand to rub your arm soothingly.

Your phone buzzed for the millionth time that day. You weren’t even going to look at it but Hoseok saw how your eyebrows knotted together in annoyance. “Who keeps messaging you?”

“Just one of my old exes. Don’t worry about it. I’m trying to ignore him.” Your voice grew heavy and the next time Hoseok turned to speak to you, sleep had taken over. Another ding from your phone had him narrowing his eyes. He clicked on your screen so he could view your messages. He knew you would never be unfaithful but he also knew this guy was annoying you to no end.

Rows upon rows of this guy confession to you, saying how he wanted to be with you again. Hoseok smirked to himself and opened a new tab on his computer. He’d make sure this guy never bothered you again.

An hour later, you emerged from your nap. Hoseok had placed a pillow to replace him and gave you a fuzzy blanket. The T.V remote was placed by your swollen stomach. Hoseok was most likely having a meeting with the rest of the Bangtan Members. You turned on the nightly news out of boredom and narrowed your eyes at screen.

There was your ex on the nightly news being interviewed. He was swearing up and down that his bank account was full moments ago, and that it was completely empty the next second. The headline was stated as following: “Mysterious String of Empty Bank Accounts Rising”.

You picked up your phone and sent your husband a quick text.

“Seriously Hobi?”

Originally posted by yourpinkpill

~Park Jimin~

Jimin and you were setting on a park bench, enjoying each other’s company. The jungle gym in front of you was filled to the brim with kids. That would be your little girl some day, swinging from the handlebars while Jimin held her up so she could reach.

Jimin rubbed your belly softly. Little kicks followed the path of his hand much to his amusement, and your discomfort.

“She’s a daddy’s girl already.” Jimin kissed your lips sweetly. The chime of a bell tore your attention to the wagon filled with frozen treats.

“Jimieeee!” You pointed to the ice cream cart. Jimin shook his head with a laugh and fished out money from his pocket.

“Wait here. Chocolate right?” You nodded excitedly and watched him approach the wagon. Another figure took his seat, a man you recognized all too well.

“Chocolate Ice cream for a Y/n?” Your ex was a smug bastard, able to have his way with almost anyone. With a deep frown you tried to ignore him completely as he held out the one to you. He yelled however, when a flying stone cracked against his fingers, the ice cream splattering on the bench.

“She stopped liking your ice cream a long time ago.” Jimin grabbed your elbow and helped you to your feet. He handed you the ice cream a shot your ex a look that could kill. “As you can tell, she’s yet to have her fill of mine though.” He laid a hand on your swollen stomach and pressed a hungry kiss to your mouth.

When you parted for air your ex was gone, and Jimin was now the smug one.

“You are so dirty! Now go get my sprinkles.”

Originally posted by jimiyoong

~Kim Taehyung~

Taehyung and you were visiting the local mall to shop. Cribs of a bassinet were on today’s agenda. You ran your fingers across the fine oak of a crib, marveling at the craftsmanship. Taehyung came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle.

“Do you like this one?” His voice was deep yet soft. You nodded anxiously. He chuckled and lifted the box in his own two arms. “Why don’t you pick out some blankets?”

Taehyung didn’t have a budget when it came to you and his unborn baby. He’d buy you the sun and moon if it would make you happy. You had been raised with little to nothing like Tae, that’s one reason you connected.

Tae went to pay for the crib while you picked through the mint green blankets. You had yet to find out the sex of the baby, wanting to wait to be surprised. “Y/n is that you?”

Your ex stood there with an armful of children’s clothes in his arms. He was clearly a worker here. That surprised you, seeing how arrogant he was. You had expected him to be a CEO, not a worker at a baby store.

“I have nothing to say to you.” The last time you had seen your ex, he was being towed away in a cop car. He was highly abusive, verbally and physically.

“Give me one more chance-” he peered over the rack to see your stomach, 7 months full with child. “Knocked up?”

“Watch your mouth.” Taehyung dropped the box he was carrying at your feet and squared up to the man. He towered a few inches above him and his strong jaw was set.

“C'mon Tae, we don’t have time for filth like him.” You grabbed his hand and motioned for him to pick up the box and leave. Taehyung did so unwillingly. When you both made it to the car, you grabbed Tae’s cheeks and kissed him with full force of passion.

“I love you.”

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

~Jeon Jungkook~

Jungkook had invited you to one of his underground matches. Some might say that this was no place for a woman who was 5 months pregnant, but you loved the adrenaline. Jungkook was up next to fight and you had a front row seat.

You scanned his opponent, broad shoulders and all. He turned around to put his mouth piece in and you recognized him immediately. That was the ex.

You knew he had been a fighter, but not for underground matches like this. He must have fallen low. Unfortunately, he noticed you as well. He stripped out of his shirt and kneeled in front of you.

“Hey pretty girl. Remember me? Why don’t you congratulate the winner afterwards?” He made a V shape with his fingers and slid his thick tongue between them. You cringed at the sight and gagged. Little did he know, Jungkook was standing behind him with nostrils flares and fist clenched.

The ref called action with a blow of his whistle and you had never seen a faster fight. Jungkook threw a single punch to your ex’s skull and he was out like a light. Your husband continued to beat the bastard senseless. Blood finally spurred from his mouth and two burly men had to drag him away.

He hopped the rope and collected you in his arms. Jungkook lifted the front of your shirt and placed a sloppy kiss on your belly button. The crowd cheered on the champion and his affection towards you.

“I like his idea Y/n. Why don’t you come congratulate me in the locker room?”

Originally posted by pjmjjk

Dating Jonathan Byers Would Include

@kurtwxgners


  • Photos. Let’s just get this out of the way here and now.
    • Photos of you, photos of the two of you, photos of you with his family –
    • According to Jonathan, there can never be enough photos of you
      • Well, he never outright says it, but you can assume such from his actions
    • Depending on how you are with getting your photos taken, there can be a mix of what kinds of pictures of you Jonathan has an abundance of
    • If you enjoy it, you model and pose quite a lot. There’s plenty of goofy pictures of you that were done to make him laugh
    • If you detest it, he tries to respect your wishes. Honestly, he does. But sometimes you just look so beautiful and natural and that profile of yours looks so right in this lighting and just –
      • *click* “… Did you just take a picture of me?” “I’m sorry..!!”
  • Meeting *because* of said profile looking great in lighting
    • You were honestly probably just getting some reading done while walking to your car/the bus/however you get to and from school. Jonathan happened to look your way, saw you, and became incredibly smitten
    • Normally he’d just take the picture he wanted with or without the subject’s awareness and move on with his day. With you, however… He felt different about doing that. Almost ashamed in himself if he did it without your awareness, or even permission
    • Nancy looks in the direction Jonathan has been staring at for nearly an entire minute and immediately knows what’s going on, suggesting that Jonathan just go talk you
    • Of course, Precious Picture-Taker™ is too shy to do it, so Nancy tries another route: Gently pushing him towards you until he’s about halfway to where you are
    • He was about to give up and walk away but you looked back at him just before he could. Poor soul froze and could feel his heart beating so fast it felt like it was encased in ice. Meanwhile, his face was growing warmer by the second
  • Jonathan was incredibly tongue-tied when you asked if you could help him. Nancy had to step in and say he was doing a senior project for photography and that you seemed to fit the criteria he’d told her about
    • His face said “What?”, his eyes said “Panic!”, but his heart said “Thank you, St. Nancy.”
      • After you two became a couple, you would occasionally tease him about how shy and cute he was being over “little ole you”
  • Him making you breakfast
    • It’s already a part of his regular routine, so if you spend the night at the Byer household or arrive there in the morning on the weekends or even school day, you can trust that there will be a fourth plate laid out and stacked with food for you
    • If he goes to pick you up in the morning to go to school, he packs you a bag with a breakfast burrito or breakfast sandwich
  • Being involved in a two-headed mother hen of a relationship
    • You’re protective of your lanky prince, always trying to get him to sleep more, making sure he’s dressed warmly in winter when he goes out to take pictures
      • You’ve stood up to many bullies and unsavory people on his behalf, much to his dismay (and much to his poor heart’s horror)
      • This includes his father, whom we will discuss later
    • Jonathan, however, is virtually the same with you. In fact, he might even be even more of a mother hen!
      • If you’re begging him to put on gloves and a scarf, he’s darn-well making certain that you’re doing exactly that – even when it’s not that cold out
        • God help you if you sneeze …
      • He carries a mini first-aid kit in the glove box of his car not long after you two begin dating, which he’s glad to have done after you once got a splinter during a walk
      • You’re pretty sure he just plain likes feeding you because even beyond packing you breakfasts (which he makes because he thinks you aren’t being healthy enough), he’s always offering you snacks or has some on standby
      • Jonathan isn’t a confrontational person, but he will throw fists if somebody speaks ill of you
        • (To be honest, as upset as it makes you to see him hurt, you need to admit that there’s something attractive about seeing him get animalistic
      • Clarification: Jonathan is definitely the bigger mother hen
  • Developing a big sis-type relationship with Will and his friends
    • You learn a bit about Dungeons and Dragons for his sake before realizing it’s pretty fun. You want to join the group at some point, and agree to do so after Mike’s current campaign is over so that you don’t feel like you’re intruding
    • You inherently become protective of Will and make it your vow to mess up anyone who dares mess with him
      • Jonathan quietly appreciates this
  • Joyce adoring you and always ready to save a spot for you at the dinner table. The Byers household ultimately becomes your home away from home
    • She’s just so happy that her eldest son not only has a significant other, but one who treats him properly and embraces his oft ridiculed characteristics
    • (However, if you spend the night or anything, she still would prefer his bedroom door stay open. Just an involved mother’s preference)
    • She always makes sure you go home with a plate of something
      • Since Jonathan is the photographer, there aren’t too many photos with which she can embarrass him with – doesn’t mean that there aren’t any at all, though
  • The first time you meet Jonathan and Will’s deadbeat father, you try to hold your tongue. However, the keyword here is “try” because you ultimately failed
    • The moment that bastard uttered a single word about Joyce and/or her boys, you were hot as a studio light
    • You were cussing and screaming and calling out as though you were getting paid for it, growing hot in the face
    • Meanwhile, Jonathan stood there for a few moments, completely gobsmacked: Even when faced with ridicule back in Hawkins, he’d never seen you so pissed
      • When he finally comes back to reality, however, his instincts kick in and he gently ushers you away.
      • He can’t tell why his face is red: It’s not embarrassment, he decides, but maybe it’s a little closer to shock, pride, and … excitement?
  • Double dates with Nancy and Steve
  • Nobody telling you about the Upside Down or anything that happened until at least a year into the relationship
    • You’re not exactly upset that such information was withheld. How could you be when you’re too busy being horrified at the trauma everyone has surely gone through
    • As a result, you become a lot more affectionate towards Jonathan, always nervous that somewhere deep down he’s still very much frightened over his experiences. Speaking of affection, though …
  • PDA being a very quiet, tame thing between you two
    • Jonathan, being the closed off person that he is, isn’t necessarily going out of his way to show PDA in the way that most of your peers are.
    • At most, he’ll peck you on the lips or hold your hand. But in every peck and every hand-holding moment, you can feel the growing love he has for you, never allowing you to doubt his intentions even once
  • In private, Jonathan still exhibits slight hesitancy to show bigger, more emphasized forms of affection towards you, often fidgeting when you two are sitting together and watching a movie
    • He may need some encouragement or a clear sentence where you consent to him wrapping an arm around your shoulders
    • Once you get him cuddling, though, Jonny’s as comfy as a kitten in a sun spot.
      • Nothing will stop him from nuzzling you and quietly sighing with content
      • The boy loves neck kisses, giving or receiving. He won’t do the former as often due to his shyness, however. But you rarely let this stop you from placing a quick peck on his own neck to receive a slight shutter or him turning his blushing face elsewhere
  • Jonathan can’t help but feel like any nickname he gives you sounds awkward falling from his mouth.
    • At most, he’ll call you “sweetie” or “honey” but he often winds up sounding so unsure or clumsy about it that you can’t help but giggle about it
    • You, however, go nuts with naming him things and he doesn’t seem to mind: Jon-Jon, Jonny, Jon Boy, Jo-Jo, Baby, My Tired Puppy, Jon-Bon, Stieglitz, Picture Perfect, etc. (After 1983, you begin referring to him as Jon Bon Jovi sometimes)
  • Blasting The Clash from his room when you’re over or when it comes on the radio in the car
  • Jonathan becoming so used to your bizarre comments and conversation topics that he’s barely phased by them anymore
    • He plays along with them, even offering genuine input when you ask for it
    • He never wants you to feel like you’re too strange or your thoughts are invalid – he knows that feeling all too well and would never wish that on anyone he cares about
    • As such, he invests himself into every conversation you have, even if he may not have any real thoughts on the subject matter. But if it’s important to you, then he at least needs to make an effort
  • Helping him prepare his portfolio for his NYU application
    • Jonathan was honestly a little nervous about telling you that his dream school was NYU – most wouldn’t imagine a shy, quiet guy from a town like Hawkins to be able to make it out of the neighboring cities, let alone to such a prestigious school in a big city.
    • His little heart did an entire gymnastics routine of shock and complete glee when, after he told you, you gained expression on your face and told him that you needed to start immediately to create the perfect portfolio
    • In the end, a great portion of the photos wind up including you in them or some aspect of you or something Jonathan later admits he finds symbolic of you
    • You want to ask him why, but you kind of already know: You’re his muse, simple as that
  • Enjoying just that: Life with Jonathan (when it’s not involving the Upside Down or whatever else is out there) is simple.
    • Not in a bad way, but in a sweet way, the kind of way that makes you think of cute diner dates on Friday evenings, walks for ideas for photos on Saturdays, baked pies for Sunday dinners.
    • The sweet feeling of holding hands as you walk down Main Street, making idle chitchat
    • Life with Jonathan feels like you’re eternally wrapped in one of his sweaters – which, much of the time, is plenty true
  • Always being so proud of him and knowing that you two are a team, be it for fighting against the supernatural odds, or for fighting against the more difficult parts of reality
    • He’s your weary-eyed prince, you’re his knuckle-bearing, fire-tongued princess
i have too many feelings about michelle jones so here have headcanons and peter x michelle

this was obnoxiously long because i have no control so lots of stuff is under the cut and it became very fic-like at the end there, whoops. 

one (THIS ONE!) | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

  • so michelle moved with her family to new york when she started high school
  • and mj was actually pretty sad to leave her friends back in chicago because it had taken a long time to make those friends and she always feels awkward around new people
  • so she isn’t very happy about The Move
  • she comes from a loving family
  • like, she gets kissed every night before she goes to bed, her parents read her bedtime stories until she was ten, she used to wear matching outfits with her mother, family movie nights were every friday
  • her parents were really good to her for the most part and just loved and supported her
  • they’re also pretty smart and since mj has pretty much always been inspired by them so intelligence and the acquisition of knowledge is really important to her
  • hence reading and academic decathlon, but she’s also into math and science too because she’s very driven and doesn’t have that many friends in new york so what else is she gonna do?
  • and her parents are an interracial couple and they’ve encountered a lot of hate and mj was always so sad when she walked out with her mother and people would give them weird looks
  • so she’s tried to end hate whenever she can and fights to give a voice to those who are silenced
  • but now cue mj going to high school in new york
  • she joins academic decathlon ofc because who do you think she is she lives for this shit
  • and then! there is this little shithead on the team PETER PARKER
  • like who the fuck does this kid think he is
  • answering all these questions, acting like he’s sooo smart just because he happens to know a lot of facts and is really good at physics and speaks spanish really well and also happens to be really dorky and adorable and okay maybe he’s kind of attractive too and maybe mj starts throwing herself more into academic decathlon and possible CONSIDERS joining band but that’s ONLY BECAUSE PETER IS A SHITHEAD AND SHE NEEDS TO SHOW HIM HE ISN’T THE ONLY TALENTED ONE OKAY
  • anyway

Keep reading

Soulmates (AU) Part 2

Pairing: Harry and Y/N

Word Count: 2677

Prompt (AU) : Harry took his anger out in sex-and you weren’t supposed to do that. He would go to the bar and find others just as terrible and lonely as him, drink, and then sink his sorrows into anything with breast and a hole were to put it. Niall always rolled his eyes the next morning and say to Harry “you’re a proper dick, yeh know that right?”, to which Harry would lift his middle finger up and respond with, “if soulmates are real she would love me anyhow.”

“Harry when you meet her your life will change,” Anne says, handing him a cup of tea.

Harry rolls his eyes, “I don’t care to meet her. It’s all bullshit,” Harry grumbles.

Part One


There were very few things that bugged Y/N in life. Y/N hated when people didn’t use their turn signals when driving, or when people walked too slow in front of her, or when people rolled their eyes or stared at her, but she absolutely loathed when people wouldn’t respect her choice and try and force her to talk. It was clear, crystal clear, that she wasn’t much of a talker, and yes or no questions where the good route to go, but when people edged her on she got upset.

For example, Harry just couldn’t wrap his mind around how his other half would not utter a single word to him. Y/N had written down on a whiteboard that she was ‘mute’ and would really prefer if Harry stayed away from the label. She explained that even though he was her soulmate (and she would love to be open with him) talking just didn’t seem like something she was ready for.

She watched as Harry rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, and frowned. She could feel his annoyance (literally) and she wanted to stub her toe on the table just to tick him off, but she felt like it was rude and she didn’t want to put herself through the pain as well.

“So like what? I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with someone who won’t talk to me?” Harry asked, his eyes on her as she walks down the hallway of her apartment complex.

Y/N shrugs, ‘learn asl,’ she signs.

“The fuck does that mean?” Harry spat.

Keep reading

proof

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Prompt: Reader is the child of Tony Stark. While talking to Peter one day you discover that Flash is bullying him, and decide to take matters into your own hands by showing up to Liz Allen’s party to put an end to it. 

Requested by: n/a

Warnings: slight spoilers for Homecoming, mild swearing, bullying

Word count: 2,805

Notes: I know this isn’t the exact dialogue as in the movie but I’m just working off my memory so bare with me folks. Also this took me several day to write but I love it, even though the ending is kinda shaky but this is very long and I would enjoy you guys sent in requests! My masterlist is in my bio (it’s almost empty but that’ll change) along with a prompt list you can request off of if you want!

Originally posted by zgallagher

Keep reading

You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist linked in bio


“Out!”

It’s the first thing Y/n wakes up to, Savannah’s outraged voice echoing along the walls of Y/n’s bedroom.

Y/n groans, squinting her eyes open at the sudden movement of her bed shaking wildly.

Savannah’s pulling the stranger out of Y/n’s bed, her merciless hands continuously pushing him out the bedroom door. He’s half awake, his slumberous daze making him scramble as he attempts to throw his clothes back on.

“Fuckin’ Jesus” the unknown man grumbles, his eyes still half closed from the immense amount of alcohol he consumed the previous night.

Savannah remains relentless, despite his attempt to get fully dressed. He even falls at one point, when he hops on one foot to get his leg through his jeans, but she doesn’t stop for a second.

You, get out of here!” she demands, her hand giving him one last shove out the door before she slams it shut.

Y/n groans again, her sensitivity to anything other than complete darkness and silence making her throw the duvets over her head and bury her face in her pillow. She’s well aware that she has to embrace the very few seconds she has of total peace and quiet before Savannah begins to lecture her for the irresponsibility she just walked into.

She’s only able to reunite with darkness for a split second before Savannah pulls the covers completely off of her, bringing her back into the horrifying sunlight.

Y/n falls off the bed, letting out a groan as her still slightly intoxicated body makes contact with the wooden floor. Her hungover state is making it nearly impossible to figure out the chaos unraveling in the room; all she can really understand is the pounding in her head and the burning in her eyes every time she exposes them from their lids.

She rolls over onto her back, huffing as her fingers dig into her eyelids. She coughs, her abrupt movements making her stomach flip with every turn she makes. She’s given no time to recover before Savannah rips her arms away from her face, gripping onto her wrists as she pulls Y/n off of the floor.

“What the fuck is going on here, Y/n?!” Savannah yells, eyes glaring at Y/n’s very, very hungover stance.

Y/n nearly trips over her own two feet as she attempts to balance herself after Savannah harshly pulled her up from her collapsed figure. If she had the capability to answer back, she would have, but she’s still fucked up from last night and can barely stomach the sunlight seeping in from the curtains.

“Is this what you’ve been up to?!” Savannah spits, angry laughter tying into her words, “Is this the kind of shit you’ve been doing while cutting everyone off?! Sleeping with random guys?!”

The last thing Savannah expected to see was Y/n in bed with a half-naked man and empty bottles of alcohol scattered across her bedroom floor. It was extremely rare for Y/n to carelessly consume alcohol and have consistent one night stands. Savannah’s witnessed her go through these phases only a handful of times throughout their friendship, all of which stemmed from Y/n’s toxic intolerance of being alone.

She should have seen this coming, though. After finding out she’s been in a relationship with someone Y/n was in love with, the first thing she should have done was check up on her. But there was so much fear holding her back, so much guilt preventing her from confronting her about it.

She wouldn’t know exactly what to say, or how to say it, without making it sound like she was the shittiest friend in the world. She had a feeling Y/n had feelings for Harry, considering she had mentioned him a plethora of times once she met him.

And Savannah still took it upon herself to date Harry, for her own selfish reasons. She never thought that it was the potential reason Y/n was so distant. That thought was the last one in the back of her head, completely throwing her off guard when she found out.

She’s tried to reach out to her multiple times, only to be deliberately ignored and shut down. After a while, she figured all Y/n wanted was space, so she stopped trying for a couple days.

But nothing stopped Harry. He’d spend hours knocking on her front door, on his knees, begging for her to speak to him. He’d call her when he wasn’t near her, because he had driven himself crazy knowing he never told Y/n what he needed to tell her so urgently.

Y/n knew—she knew just how much effort he was putting into seeing her again. She heard him, every day, through her front door, but she never knew what to do. The constant fear that Harry didn’t feel the same way back was all the convincing she needed to never speak to him again.

There’s only so much her heart could break, and she didn’t know how many more times it could before she finally snapped.

Y/n grips her head as she squints her eyes shut, hissing at the throbbing in her head when Savannah’s voice booms throughout the room. The overwhelming migraine taking over Y/n’s head practically forces her to sit on the edge of her bed, the palm of her hands still digging into her eyes.

“Not cutting anyone off,” Y/n mumbles, grumbling when she opens her eyes properly to look at Savannah, “I’m just adjusting.”

It isn’t a lie. Her intention wasn’t to ignore them, not at all. But as time went on, the more her emotions started becoming fragile; one wrong sight would have made her break.

And as stupid as it sounds, having sex was the only time she felt wanted after Harry and Savannah started dating. Even if it was in a drunken state, even if it was just purely for physical pleasure, the hours spent with random men were the only moments she felt purpose.

It was also her biggest distraction. Having one night stands was her emotional outlet, her way of letting out all of her emotions without actually doing so. It sure as hell was better than being alone—anything was.

Savannah sighs, shaking her head softly as she kneels eye level to her. She’d never seen her like this before, so lost and broken. She would have lectured her further if she wanted to because she had every right to smack some sense into her. But after all this time, after all the pain she could only imagine Y/n going through, could she really do that to her? Could she really blame her for doing this to herself?

“Y/n,” she rubs her legs, “I have been the shittiest, most horrible friend to you. I was so selfish and so inconsiderate, and I don’t blame you for not speaking to me these past couple days. But, Y/n, this—” her hands gesture around the horrendous state of her bedroom, “this isn’t adjusting. Having drunk sex isn’t going to rid your feelings for Harry. You’re suppressing your emotions, you’re running away. That’s what you’re doing.”

Y/n’s lips begin to quiver as her eyes well with tears; the first time she’s truly cried since the night she saw Harry at Lexi’s. Savannah feels somewhat relieved when she sees the tears falling from Y/n’s eyes. It isn’t a familiar sight to see, but it shows her that she’s actually accepting what she’s been hiding all along.

“You have to talk to me. I don’t care if you yell at me, Y/n. I don’t care what you do to me, but you have to talk to me. You have to show me something. I can’t be hearing about your feelings from Harry, that’s not fair for anyone.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Y/n whispers, her words breaking beneath cries she so desperately wishes she could stop.

But there’s no going back now. The alcohol is still running in her system and she’s reacting instinctively. There is nothing holding her back, not now.

“How was I supposed to tell him that I was in love with him when I knew he didn’t feel the same way? And how was I supposed to tell you anything about him when I knew this would end up happening anyways?! And what was I supposed to say to the both of you when you both decided to take it upon yourselves to flirt in front of me?!

By now, Y/n’s blood is starting to boil. The words coming out of her mouth are laced with venom, her sudden shift in mood making Savannah swallow thickly. But everything in her is operating a million miles an hour, her words coming out faster than her brain can register. She doesn’t even remember standing up from the bed while she paces around her bedroom, empty bottles rolling around the wooden floor.

“Because no matter what I would have done, it would have ended the same! The way it always does, Savannah! The way it always ends with you getting what I want, even if I want it more—“

“Y/n—"

“Even if I need it! You still get it!”

The harshness in her voice is replaced by violent cries, her words drowned in uncontrollable sobs.

The pain is all over. Everything she’s attempted to numb is now all hitting her at once. All the loneliness, all the anger, all the hurt she’s been burying is now reaching the surface. She can barely breathe, all of the emotions suffocating her, squeezing against her throat.

Savannah is quick to embrace her shaken body, shushing her as her hands rub up and down her back.

A part of her always knew she was the reason Y/n’s love life was barely existent. Although Y/n never admitted it, she drops hints at it every so often. She did notice how all of Y/n’s high school crushes ended up liking her instead, and did notice how whenever Y/n tried to date, she would barely mention them to her. It was as if she was hiding them from her, completely intimidated that Savannah would take away her only chance at a relationship.

And Savannah can’t shake the horrible feeling she has when Y/n admits all of it to her.

Y/n buries her face in her shoulder, her tears soaking through her t-shirt. She wishes she could hold a grudge against Savannah, but she doesn’t have the heart to blame her for anything that’s happened. Everything is because of Y/n, everything happening is because of her fear of emotions and every bit of her has no one else to blame.

“I need him.” Y/n sobs into her shoulder, her hands tugging at the ends of her shirt for some sort of release.

“I need him so much. And I hate it—I hate that I do so m—much.”

“Oh, Y/n.” Savannah kisses her temple, holding her higher against her.

She knows how much Y/n needs him, and knows now more than ever. She was her happiest when she first met him, she was almost an entirely different person. But now, after everything that’s happened, Savannah has never seen her more of a wreck than she is in this moment.

“Let’s sit you down, you need to breathe.”

Y/n whimpers as she’s placed back on the bed, Savannah reminding her to breathe every couple of seconds. She looks at Y/n with sadness in her eyes, comforting her whenever she needs it most.  

“He needs you, too, you know.” Savannah sighs, shaking her head as she takes Y/n’s fidgeting hands into hers.

“I never noticed it until you distanced yourself from us. He didn’t open up to me the way he should have, never talked to me the way he had with you. When I asked him about it—asked him why he wasn’t communicating with me properly, he always mentioned you.”

Y/n flutters her eyes shut, pursing her lips with the slight possibility that Harry may actually feel the same way towards her. There was always a part of her that fully believed the only reason he’s tried so hard to reach her was because he felt guilty for hurting her so much.

But knowing that there’s a chance in Harry reciprocating feelings gives Y/n an overwhelming sensation she’s ever experienced before. It’s the first time in a while there’s a particular type of warmth in her chest, and she swears she begins to tear up from the bit of happiness she’s been missing.

“He would tell me that you were the only one he truly felt comfortable around. Even confessed you were the only one he’d ever be able to talk to, even if we were in a relationship. He was going absolutely mental.”

Savannah sweeps the pad of her thumb under Y/n’s eye, catching the few extra tears that are overflowing. She smiles weakly at her in reassurance, raking her knotted hair between her fingers.

“No matter how much he claimed to like me, he loved you. He’ll always love you. And even when he was completely oblivious, I know now that, deep down, he was always yours. He was never really mine, no matter how much we all thought differently.”

Y/n nods slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips when she hears Savannah’s words. It’s the first sense of hope she’s felt in a while, and it almost completely rids the pain. Almost.

“I’m sorry for ruining your relationship, though. I kind of feel like this is all my fault.”

Savannah laughs softly, finding it almost completely unbelievable that Y/n always finds a way to apologize, even when things aren’t her fault.

“Are you serious, Y/n? Nobody, including me, can love that man half as much as you do. I ruined your relationship. You barely had anything to ruin.”

She runs her hands through Y/n’s hair one last time before patting her shoulder, a smirk growing on her face as she stands up from her kneeling position.

“Now, up you go. I believe you have to talk to someone who’s been dying to see you.”


It’s when Y/n is about to walk out of her door, freshly showered with a new change of clothes, ready to face Harry when she realizes she never said it.

She never fully told Harry she loves him, not when he was conscious, at least. She had felt it for so long, it has taken over her for so long, yet she never told him how she felt. It almost makes her wonder if it’s the reason why he’s been trying so hard for her.

He needs to hear her say it.

“It’s not hard.” She mumbles to herself as she unlocks her front door.

“Not hard, I just have to fucking sa—”

“Y/n!” Harry breathes out, springing from his position on the ground up to his feet.

He twitches when he instinctively brings his hand up to reach for her, but he holds himself back. He isn’t quite sure how far he’ll allow her to go, but if it were up to him, every part of her would be against him. Every single part.

She sucks in a breath, not expecting to see him waiting on her doorstep, and certainly not expecting him to seem so relieved to see her.

“H—Harry,” she whispers hesitantly, “what are you—“

“I’m sorry!” He stutters, interrupting her before she has a chance to finish asking her question.

“I know how inappropriate it is of me to just sit on your doorstep so unexpectedly but I knew Savannah was coming and I thought that maybe this would be the only time I’d get to see you and I was going to come in but some guy came running out of here and I didn’t want to get in between your time with Savannah so I just figured I’d wait until you came back out but I wasn’t sure if you ever would so I just figured I'd—“

He stops rambling when he feels Y/n’s hand on his cheek, her eyes looking at him with so much tenderness he swears his heart melts.

“Catch your breath, Harry.” She mumbles, rubbing her thumb along his cheek, “Just take a breath.”

He inhales sharply as he closes his eyes, turning his head so that her hand is against his lips. He kisses her palm softly before she moves it to play with his unbrushed hair.

His eyes flutter shut at her touch, his body almost completely melting into her. He feels his weakest now more than ever, and he’s never been more relieved to be this close to her again.

“Who was he, Y/n?” he whispers.

“The guy, who ran out of here, who was he?“

As much of a coward as it makes him, the thought of her in bed with someone else physically and mentally pains him more so than he’s ever expected. His head swims with thoughts of her naked, trembling, crying as she devotes her love to some other man, and the more he thinks about it, the more sick his stomach feels.

“Have I been trying for nothing? Have I been wasting my time?”

How could you ever doubt my love for you? is the first thought that comes to her. How could you ever question how much I love you?

Instead of saying the words right at the tip of her tongue, her eyes crease inward, slightly shaking her head as she scrapes her fingertips delicately against his scalp.

“I don’t know, Harry.” she whispers honestly, “I don’t know who he is.”

He nods softly, but nothing in her answer reassures him. He knows there is no other explanation for a guy to run out of her house at nine in the morning without a shirt on.

“May I come in? Wanna talk.” He asks tentatively.

“Of course you can.”

Silence falls between them as they both claim spots on opposite sides of the room. 

There’s a tension in the room they both can’t seem to shake, an unaddressed barrier between them making it nearly impossible to find an appropriate way to start a conversation.

Harry’s the first one to break the silence, however, after a few minutes past of each of them refusing to make any eye contact with each other. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

The question caught Y/n’s attention quickly, her head that was once resting in the palm of her hand now up on its own, a small “hm?” parting past her lips.

She’s acting dumb even though she knows exactly what he’s talking about. She just isn’t prepared to answer him, not in the way he wants her to.

“That you’re in love with me. Were you ever going to tell me?”

She shrugs, her teeth biting her bottom lip as she tears her gaze away from his. She isn’t used to confrontation, especially when it involves her emotions. It’s one of her weaknesses, but there’s absolutely no way around this one. Even if there was, she wouldn’t have the audacity to take it. He deserves to know—everything this time.

“I told you before.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, eyes narrowing as he looks at her from across the room. No, he may have been oblivious about her feelings in the beginning, but he sure as hell would never have forgotten it if she told him how she felt.

“Bullshit!” He scoffs. “You didn’t tell me shit! We wouldn’t be here right now if you had told me!”

She sighs, her cheek laying right back down in the palm of her hand, almost as if shying away from him.

“Well, it’s just—you were sleeping.”

Harry stands from his place on the couch, face scrunching in aggravation as his hands rub up and down his face.

“You’re kidding me, right? You have to be fucking kidding me right now!”

His fingers harshly grip the roots of his hair before stomping is way towards her. If he doesn’t get any answers out of her, he swears he’ll lose his goddamn mind.

His hands grip the sides of her face, squeezing her jaw between his hands as he looks at her bewildered.

“I need answers, Y/n. I don’t think you understand how many fucking answers I need right now.”

He speaks through clenched teeth and a tightened jaw, frustration boiling in his blood as she gives him the outright most ambiguous and outrageous answers he’s ever heard in his life.

Y/n places her hands on top of his, her fingernails digging gently into his skin. Despite the harshness of his stare, this is the first time she’s seen him in weeks, and she still finds him to be the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen.

“It was the night after I drove you back from Lexi’s, when you and Savannah were kind of going through that rough patch.”

He falls to his knees in between her legs, an almost unnoticeable smile tugging at his lips from the memories of that night. Because although Savannah had left him by himself, he had a night with Y/n that changed him forever.

"You fell asleep on me, after you told me you were still going to fight for her. That was probably one of the worst things you could have said to me, but you didn’t know, and I was angry at myself for not telling you sooner. I didn’t know how else to tell you unless you were—you were sleeping.”

His hand reaches up to her lips, his thumb tracing along the outlines of her mouth once she’s done speaking. No matter how much she confuses him, and no matter how fucking angry she makes him, he wouldn’t want to be staring at anybody else right now.

“I loved you then, too” he whispers, “I didn’t know it. I didn’t know anything until you left me. I knew you meant everything to me, I knew you were the only one I trusted so deeply. But the second I lost you, I felt empty.”

He presses his forehead against her collar bones, her heart beating quickly against his neck. She sighs, her fingers intertwining with his against her lap as her hips slide more towards the edge, her knees supporting the sides of his chest.

“Didn’t matter that I had Savannah. She was lovely, don’t get me wrong, but she wasn’t you. I tried so hard to make myself believe I was just missing you as a friend, but there was nothing that convinced me.”

His tearful eyes looked into hers, both chuckling slightly at their current state. They’re both crying, both their hearts racing in their chests. If someone were to tell them now that there’s a feeling even remotely close to how beautiful they feel now, together, they wouldn’t have believed it for a second.

Y/n wipes away the loose tears on his cheeks while she sniffles, giggling softly at how stupid they probably look.

“I’ve always loved you, Harry,” she whispers, “there’ll never be a time that I stop. No matter how hard I try, my love for you is stronger.”

It’s when the words fall from her lips that Harry realizes all he needed was for her to hear her say it. Her voice is so sweet as she says it, too, and her eyes leave no trace out doubt when she looks into him.

He tries to hold back the irresistible urge to kiss her, but it’s completely impossible. His lips press feverishly against hers, both of them releasing moans at just how right it feels to be kissing one another. Their kiss isn’t the slightest bit romantic. It’s harsh, it’s desperate, it’s messy but it’s just what they need.

Harry crawls on top of her, his hands on every part of her they can touch. He groans when he feels her nails scratch down his back, leaving her giggling underneath him.

“Mine.” He growls, his thumb putting pressure right underneath her chin.

He admires her face, the glorious look of her swollen lips, wet eyes, and pink cheeks. It’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen. A soft whimper leaves her lips, craving nothing more than to feel his lips against hers again.

“These lips are mine. All of you—all of you is mine. No other fucking wanker gets you the way I do.”

She smirks, her eyes half-lidded.

“‘m not allowed to sleep with random guys but you’re allowed to fuck my best friend?”

He presses his lips against her again, his hands brushing loose strands of hair away from her face as he does so.

“Never fucked her,” He mumbles against her lips, “couldn’t get you off my mind.”

Y/n rolls over so that she’s on top of Harry, her legs on either side of his waist as her hands roam his chest through his t-shirt. He looks priceless like this, weak and breathless underneath her as her hands grip the sides of his face.

“The prettiest man I’ve ever seen.”

He blushes, his bottom lip in between his teeth as he sends her the biggest grin she’s ever seen on him. His eyes are full of love, too, and Y/n swears every breath she had the chance to take has been knocked right out of her.

“Nobody makes me feel the way you do, Y/n. Nobody.

this is the fic I promised @requiemofkings to go along with their beautiful art


Andrew might be the only person in the room not uncomfortable in the sudden silence. Neil is on his feet, eyes too wild, too tipped towards turning into Nathaniel. He is a study in battle, poised to run but ready to stand and fight with everything he has. The disjointed team that has become Neil’s family stares back at him, everyone facing down the front of his fury, with Andrew at his back for support. If he needs it. This isn’t an argument Andrew wants to be part of if he can avoid it. He gave up fighting for himself years ago.

Matt is the first one to try for words. “Neil, we didn’t –”

“You did,” Neil bites, and he doesn’t stop when he makes his best friend flinch. “You meant it. He’s not a fucking monster.”

It looks like Matt wants to get to his feet but is thinking better of it. It’s rare that Neil goes off like this, at his family least of all, but it’s human instinct to not look threatening when a wild dog’s hackles are raised.

The others let Matt carry the conversation. Smart, but it’s not going to do them any good. “Okay, Neil, we’ll stop calling him that.”

The harsh laugh that froths at Neil’s mouth fights to realign his rapid breathing. “Will you, though? It’s been years, and no matter how much he does to prove you wrong, you still can’t see past your hazy impressions of him.”

Keep reading

Hear me out- CEO AU:

Jimin’s the CEO of some big corporation, grown and passed down to him by his father, and Jungkook is the super hot repairman that everyone thirsts after. 

Oh, yeah, and his husband.

Everyday they come to work together, early enough that no one sees Jungkook get out of the driver seat of a black Rolls Royce Phantom. No one even knows that they’re together, all they know is that they’re both extremely attractive and happen to wear wedding rings. Apparently, no one has noticed that their rings are matching. Or the fact that things happen to mysteriously “break” in the CEO’s office every. single. day. 

Jungkook doesn’t mind his job. Really, he doesn’t. And Jimin’s offered to get him a higher position before but nothing was ever really appealing. So, he sticks with fixing the printer on the 5th floor that always breaks on Fridays and cleaning the windows every Monday, all the way up to the 28th floor. And spending most of his time in Jimin’s office “fixing” the office chair. and the couch. and the desk. and the door.

(Though to be fair, half of those things are “broken” because of him.)

There was one day that the air conditioning broke and, although Jungkook tried his best, they ended up calling a guy to come fix it. Unfortunately, it was in the middle of summer and the air conditioning guy couldn’t get there until the next day. So, Jungkook spent his entire day with the top half of his coveralls unbuttoned and hanging around his waist, only in a thin, white tank top. 

Office workers ogled as he stood on a latter, head disappearing through one of the ceiling panels as he rewired one of the lights. Jimin had come down to the 17th floor once he’d heard his secretary say that the “hot repair guy is only wearing a tank top”. 

“Oh my God, looks at his arms.”

“Too bad he’s married.” 

“Screw that. I’m taking a chance.” That was when Jimin drew the line.

Jungkook was too busy with his work to notice the crowd staring at his sweaty chest and was too nice to tell them to “fuck off” anyways.

“Jeon.”

Jungkook would smirk when he’d hear Jimin call him by his last name, knowing that he only did that in front of employees. He’d dip his head and look to him attentively. 

“Yes, Mr. Park?”

“Come to my office when you’re finished, please.” Jimin would push the sleeves of his white button-up further up his forearms as he walked back to the elevator, his jacket discarded due to the heat. 

“Yes, sir.”

And after about 10 minutes of pretending to work, Jungkook would climb back down the latter, wipe the sweat from his forehead, and pack his things up before making his way to the elevator. He’d planned to just walk into the office as soon as he’d reached the door. Unfortunately for him, the secretary would have other ideas.

“So, Jungkook,” He’d stop just as his hand reached the doorknob, cursing himself for not just ignoring her, “you’re married, huh?”

“Yep.”

“How long?” She would try to be coy, showing off parts of her body that he failed to be interested in.

“3 years.”

“Who’s the lucky woman-”

“Jeon!” Jimin’s voice would snap as he opened the door, interrupting the secretary sharply. 

“Sorry, sir.” 

Jungkook would walk into the office, head ducked low in faux-submission, sly smirk on his face once the door had closed.

Jimin would be on him in a second, hands pulling him closer by the waist of his coveralls. They’d be nose to nose when Jungkook would chuckle lightly and loop his arms around the CEO’s waist. 

“What seems to be the problem, Mr. Park?” Jungkook would tease him, untucking the bottom of Jimin’s shirt to run his hands up his back before settling into the dimples below his spine. 

“Oh, shut up.” Jimin would growl and yank his head down, mouths meeting in a heated and messy collision. 

And when Jungkook would pull away, taking great restraint to not take Jimin right there against the door, he’d grin through his light panting and walk them towards the desk before plopping down in the chair himself and pulling Jimin into his lap. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Jungkook would mumble against Jimin’s neck, peppering kisses up to his jaw and back down to his collarbones. 

Jimin would sigh happily and lean into him, threading his fingers through Jungkook’s hair before frowning and grumbling to him.

“Everybody lookin’ at you. Thinkin’ they have a chance.” The kisses would stop and Jungkook would raise his head, stupid grin plastered to his face.

“Baby,” He’d whisper, knowing that it made the seemingly big and bad CEO melt into a puddle, “you know that I’m all yours.”

And for a powerful CEO, one would not think that Jimin would so easily pout like a child and send puppy eyes to, well, anyone really. But when it came to Jungkook, Jimin was all soft touches and sweet smiles compared to his sharp tone and intimidating presence around the office. 

And when the secretary would barge in without knocking, finding her boss on the lap of the super sexy repair guy, Jimin couldn’t bring himself to be angry about it. 

“Mr. Park, I- oh. Oh.” He’d only look over to her with a smug smile and turn Jungkook’s face towards him, reveling in the hooded look Jungkook sent him before turning back to his secretary.

“Can I help you?”

“N-no. No, sir. I-I’m sorry.”

At the end of the day, Jimin would gather his things and find Jungkook waiting for him outside his office in a black dress shirt, a red tie, a smug smile, and fresh bruises above the collar of his shirt as he offered his hand.

“Date night?”

That night, They would go home and find themselves tangled in their bed, both out of breath and in the haze of fading euphoria. Scratches decorated Jungkook’s back and bruises littered both of their necks, a few straying to Jimin’s thighs. 

“If they didn’t know you were mine already,” Jimin would start, tracing the red lines on Jungkook’s back as he stood at the bathroom sink, “they sure as hell will now.”

Jungkook would only smile and grab him, pulling Jimin back to bed to cuddle before falling asleep.

And when the air conditioning still wasn’t fixed the next day and Jungkook had to fix the printer on the 5th floor in only a tank top, everyone would avert their eyes awkwardly as Jimin walked through the hall, sending a smile to Jungkook before continuing on his way, knowing that Jungkook would be in his office in the next 15 minutes. 

Night Owls--Harry Hook x Reader

Disclaimer-I don’ t own any of the Descendants characters all credit goes to the creators and producers of Disney Descendants 

Summary-You are a part of Uma’s crew, and you have a crush on Uma’s first mate, Harry Hook. One night, you get caught wondering in the deck by Harry himself.

Originally posted by unchxxrted

You take in the sight around you. The fresh salty air blowing through your hair as you breath it all in. Oh how you loved the sea. You hoped to one day be able to set sail on the open waves once again, but that was impossible, since the magical barrier prevented anyone from leaving this foul place. 

 It was dark outside and every one of the crew members were asleep. Being one of the lower ranked members of Captain Uma’s crew, you never really get a chance to enjoy the view of the ocean and horizon. You were mostly instructed to stay below deck, watching all the supplies to ensure nothing went missing. The only times you ever came above deck was when you went out to get a meal at Ursula’s Fish and Chips shop. Not much ever really happened on the Jolly Roger. The only reason you really stayed in this crew was because of Harry Hook. 

He was Uma’s first mate, son of Captain Hook, and the only person able to make you blush by just glancing at you. His tall, tanned figure towered above you and and the majority of the crew members. His clothes consisted of red and black, and many layers of leather, with a hat that shields his hair, though you occasionally saw him without it, revealing a thick mane of dark hair. Even his facial features were sharper than the hook he carried around to seem more like his father. 

But what always caught you’re attention the most were his eyes. He had blue eyes that were lighter than the sea, and stood out even more when he outlined them with black liner. They mostly held a stern look, but occasionally held affection and care. They showed his passion, his triumph, and his determination to make it known that Uma and her crew were not to be messed with. You admired that to most. 

But you never got to spend time with him. He was always commanding the others, carrying out Uma’s demands while you listened to his voice from down below. His Scottish accent was never hard to miss, and hard to resist. Even when the crew was at the chip shop, you sat on the far side of the counter while he was by Uma’s side, causing mischief with other members by shoving them and showing his dominance over them. He did that to the entire crew. 

Well, everyone except Uma. 

And you. 

Too busy in your own thoughts, you failed to hear the scuffle of boots along the deck. With a clearing of his throats you turned your head, and your breath hitched. 

There, before you in all his glory, was Harry himself. He was without his coat or hat, only his leather pants and belt clung loosely on his waist, his torn undershirt over his chest. His hair was uncovered, all tangled and rearranged, from tossing and turning in his sleep you assumed. He smirked a little, and slowly walked towards you. 

“Well, well, well,” he smiled, his stare never leaving your own. “What do we have here? A little night owl hovering about?” 

His voice seemed playful, but then again, he always used a playful tone when he knew he had the upper hand. You gulped, not wanting to respond. “Aw, why so quiet, catfish caught yer tongue?” 

You remained silent, which only made him chuckle. He came closer, making you pull away. You knew you were gonna be in trouble, since you weren’t supposed to be up and about in the middle of the night. It was one of Uma’s rules. 

He continued to snicker, watching you tremble under his gaze. You shifted your eyes to the ground, catching the glare of his hook on one of his belt loops. You began to pant. 

“I-I’m sorry, H-Harry,” you whispered, still shaking. 

“Ah she speaks!” He mocked, taking his right hand to lift your chin. “What are ye doing wondering around late at night. Uma would make ye fish bate if she found out.” 

You took a deep breath. “I-I don’t know, couldn’t sleep I guess.” He didn’t respond. For awhile he looked at you, as if he was trying to remind himself where he had seen you. Then, he remembered. “You work below deck, don’t ya?” You nodded the best you can, since his finger still held your chin up. He smiled a bit, but not in a evil way. “Uh huh, I’ve seen you around, you talk with that Gary fella, right?” 

Gary was your friend, though he wanted to be more. You always rejected him, but continued to talk to him nonetheless, since you didn’t really know anyone else. 

“Y-Yes,” you stuttered. 

“Poor fella, I’ve seen his attempts, yet ye never give him the light of day.” He snickered again. “What’s your name, little owl?” 

“Y-Y/N.” 

He kept looking at you, watching as your chest rose and fell at a steady pace. Then he spoke again. “So tell me, Y/N. Why don’t ya give the lad a chance, aye?” 

You thought about it for a moment and said, “He isn’t my type.” Your courage began to grow slightly as the lack of space between the two of you increased by the minute. 

His hand move from your chin to rest it on the post that pinned you, just to the left side of your head. His toned biceps came to view as he barely whispered, “And what, my little owl, is your type?” 

You couldn’t help the shiver as his breath fanned over your lips. You didn’t know what to do, what to say. Here you were, pinned to the mast post, in the middle of the night, by the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, who is asking you what your type was. You so desperately wanted to tell him that the only person to make your heart soar and butterflies to erupt was the one standing in front of you, but you couldn’t. You froze. 

Harry waited for your answer, but then he spoke up, “Well, do you know what my type is?” He smiled, leaning closer to you. You shook your head. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips and back, smirking at your obvious heavy breaths. 

“My type,” he said barely above a whisper, “is a shy, timid girl, one no one really likes to point out.” You were confused as you why he was telling you this, but let him go on anyway. He pushed back a piece of hair behind your ear with left hand, letting it gently stroke your cheek as he continued. 

“My type is a girl who tries to steal glances of me, thinking I can’t see her, when I actually catch her every time, trying to do the same thing.” His hand continued down, stroking your jaw and collar bone, down your shoulder and arm until he grasped your right hand. He looked down at your two hands and smiled. 

“My type is the one who doesn’t fight for my affection, the one who only need to laugh to make my head spin.” He spoke, lifting your hand ever so carefully, sensing your ease as your shakiness subsided. He looked straight into your eyes, bringing your hand closer to his lips, gently placing a kiss onto it, and never breaking eye contact, not before he spoke, with a voice barely audible, “My type is you, Y/N.” 

His words ran a shiver up your spine, your eyes meeting his light ones. You wanted to tell him you felt the same way, but your heart was racing at his confession. His smile grew at your reaction, evolving in to a full on grin. He took this moment to admire you. 

Your long H/C hair circling your face as the wind blew it and how the moonlight reflected the glow in your E/C eyes. His thumb gently touched your bottom lip, which were oh so tempting. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. 

He leaned in and captured his lips with yours, caressing both your cheeks as he did. To say you were shocked was an understatement. Your eyes were wide, as you didn’t know what to do at first, until you kissed him back. Once he felt you giving into him, he pulled you closer by your waist, allowing your right hand to stroke up his arm. He went to deepen the kiss, biting your bottom lip and giggling when you let out a little squeal. He picked you by your thighs, pushing you harder against the post, never letting the kiss end. You let out a gasp as you felt his lips leave yours, only to latch onto your neck, and up to the sensitive skin by your ear, nibbling it ever so slightly. Your fingers ran through his hair, earning a groan from him as you did so. He soon returned to your lips, picking the pace back up. 

Eventually, you pushed against him, your breaths heavy, leaving your hands to rest against his chest. He looked up at you, a cocky smile on his face. 

“So, I guess I’m yer type then, aye?”

I wouldn’t be sure of that (Connor Murphy x reader smut!)

Hiii! I am back and with some good old smut! Thank you again for the response on my first post, it means so much to me!!! Also I got some amazing requests that I will start working on! Keep sending them in! Also there are some random parts about horses and cults, so just be warned hahaha.

Requested: nope
Words: 2,642
Warnings: smut!!! And some swearing. Also I forgot to write in protection :P, but if you don’t have protection no horizontal hula!


Sixth period was the definition of boring. The AP US History class was so dull that you had turned to contemplating how many horses it would take to make a horse cult. What was a horse cult? You had no idea, but you were dedicated to finding out during the hell which was called AP History. The only thing you had to look forward to was ‘Spa Day’, or ‘Spa Afternoon,’ with your friends. The monthly tradition was created after your friend Zoe had an unfortunate accident plucking her eyebrows. Let’s just say nobody looks good without eyebrows.
After that fateful day you, Zoe, and newfound friend Alana vowed that each month you would all spend time “treating yourselves.” This wonderful tradition switched between the three girl’s houses, and no matter where you were you always managed to laugh the night away, create weird face masks, and leave embarrassing texts to people you were too scared to talk to. This current month signaled that the sleepover would occur at the Murphy’s house, and although her parents were nice it meant running the risk of bumping into Connor. You didn’t have preconceived notions that other people had regarding Connor, but that was just problem. He fascinated you beyond anyone or anything, even more than horse cults. The lanky boy that kept his door closed at all times made you want to be brave, or at least brave enough to talk to him more in depth than you usually had.

You had known Zoe for around a year after changing high schools, and you had become instant friends. Alana had started helping you with your Spanish homework and soon enough all three of you would spend your lunches together filling out quizzes in teen magazines, and confiding in each other. Throughout your year long friendship, you had surprisingly spoken to Connor many times. When the school hallways became too overwhelming you would often wander into the school’s library and sit next to Connor. At first, he was hesitant to talk to you, fearing you were just another mean girl at school, but after some time it seemed as if he actually liked your presence, and that talking to you wasn’t that bad. This small friendship created between the two of you always seemed to sway on the line of flirtation, but no matter how many times you hinted to him that you liked him it always went right over his head. To say that it was frustrating would be the understatement of the year, and you couldn’t just bring it up with Zoe. Sure she was probably your best friend, but why bring anything up if all Connor saw you as was some friend.

“Connor’s going to have to drive us back home today,” Zoe said as you all stood by Alana’s locker while she put away a book.
“Wait, why?” you asked while fidgeting with the strap on your backpack.
“My mom’s with my aunt today so Connor drove me to school. Don’t worry though he promised me not to be 100% embarrassing,” she answered while reapplying her lip gloss. The three of you started walking towards the front doors of the school which seemed absurdly large.
“It doesn’t matter how we get there, besides I bet he wouldn’t mind if we started talking in the car, right Zoe?” piped in Alana.
“If that’s what you’re worried about y/n,” Zoe spoke as she slung her arm around you, “it won’t stop us from gossiping. Connor’s used to tuning me out so you can still spill all your secrets.” Alana and Zoe laughed, while your nervous laughter blended in. Together you walked to the school parking lot and looked for the familiar silver minivan that you were used to Zoe’s mom driving. Instead of Zoe’s mom you were used to, you saw Connor leaning against the minivan the family lovingly called “The Beast.” The three of you giggled at the unusual sight, but while Alana and Zoe might have been giggling about how funny it was, you were because of how good Connor looked. He wore his usual black shirt and jeans, but you could see bright yellow socks peeking out from under his jeans.
“Uhmm y/n?” Zoe asked laughing.
“Oh! Sorry I just kind of zoned for a minute,” Zoe looked at you with a slight smirk but didn’t say anything else as you all got in the car. You sat in the front seat, but only because you got motion sick and nobody wanted you to puke all over the car…again. As soon as Connor started the car Alana started talking a million miles a minute about somebody in here math class who she seemingly liked. You chimed in a few times, but mostly listened and tried to look at Connor without seeming like a stalker. The conversation then shifted to you, forcing you to be pulled back to reality.
“What about Shawn? He’s cute, and totally into you!” Alana said shaking her head.
“Shawn? I guess he’s cute, but I don’t like him like that at all,” you replied glancing over at Connor who was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles had turned white, or at least whiter. His eyes were intense and he was staring at the road as if he had a personal vendetta against it.
“Will you all just shut the fuck up?!” Connor yelled. The car went silent as Alana and Zoe looked at each other in surprise. You on the other hand just stared at Connor.
“Are you okay?” you asked quietly. He didn’t respond and instead turned the music in the car up. You quickly glanced in the back seat where Zoe shrugged at you, while Alana tried not to laugh.
“Sorry,” she said between giggles, “I laugh in stressful situations.” And with that, the rest of the car ride was filled with Alana laughing on and off and some Bruce Springsteen.

After what felt like hours you arrived at the Murphy house. Zoe, Alana, and you all jumped out of the car and ran upstairs to Zoe’s room where you immediately started painting each other’s nails and failed at Pinterest hacks. Eventually, the sun went down and you all changed into pajamas. By 10’oclock Alana had crashed in her sleeping bag and was snoring what would be an obnoxious amount if you didn’t love her so much. Zoe on the other hand had a habit of saying she wouldn’t fall asleep early, but once again by 10:30 pm she was sound asleep on her bed. Although this might be annoying to others you didn’t really mind since they seemed like they needed sleep, and you never really fell asleep until much later in the night. Tonight seemed like one of those nights where falling asleep seemed impossible, so you decided to wash your face again, hoping that maybe the hot water on your face would make you sleepy. On the way to the bathroom, in what was a very dark hall, you started thinking about horse cults again , and if that could actually be a thing. Not even realizing where you were walking you opened the door at the end of the hallway, but the bathroom wasn’t there. Instead, you open the door to find a dimly lit room with Connor sitting at the end of his bed reading.
“What are you doing y/n?” Connor asked looking up at you with confusion written all over his face.
“This isn’t the bathroom,” you said trying to laugh it off, “I’m sorry about that. I guess the dark really turned me around.” You smiled at Connor before realizing you were awkwardly standing in his doorway in very short pajama shorts and a tank top with no bra on.
“I guess I’ll be leaving now. I don’t want to bother you or anyth-,”
“You can stay if you want, but I’m guessing that would annoy Zoe so…”
“She’s asleep,” you said quickly, “I mean her and Alana already fell asleep and I have trouble sleeping, so thanks.” You silently cursed at yourself for seeming so desperate, but Connor didn’t seem to mind so you made your way into his room. Connor scooted over on his bed to make space for you. As you sat down you took in what was happening. You were in Connor’s room. Connor. The boy who you’ve silently liked for months, and now you were sitting on his bed.
“So,” Connor said as he pulled his hair up into a bun, “you don’t like that Shawn guy?”
“What?  My gosh no. Why?” you asked aloud.
“I guess I was just wondering since he likes you apparently and Alana seems to think you two would be good together or some shit like that.” Now it was Connor’s turn to silently curse at himself.
“Well he’s okay, but I’m kind of into someone else, but that’s a little hopeless,” you answered trying not to look Connor in the eyes.
“Hopeless?” Connor said as he slowly scooted closer to you.
“He doesn’t like me like that,” you answered, actually looking at Connor this time. Your eyes flickered from his lips back to his eyes, and you were quickly aware that you were so close you could kiss him.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Connor answered. In a single swoop he moved his mouth to yours and the heat that radiated off of him connected you together. With your lips connected you felt as if the two of you turned into one. All the anxiety of not knowing if you felt the same way slipped away as the rush of your soft lips against his own hit him. The intensity of kissing each other was more than both of you had thought possible, and the way you felt against him was something so incredible that Connor thought no words in the English language could explain it. Maybe it was the passion of the kiss, or maybe it was how intoxicating Connor was, but you wanted more. No, you needed more. With the thrill of Connor’s lips on your own you started to slowly, almost painfully drag Connor’s shirt off. Connor wasn’t as patient as you were and quickly pulled his shirt off lacking any form of grace. You lightly laughed in response but were quickly brought back by the sight of Connor in front of you. He was all you had ever wanted and there he was, with lanky arms, milky white skin, small tufts of chest hair, and he was absolutely stunning.
“Can I take your shirt off?” Connor asked with a slight quiver in his voice. You nodded in response as his cold fingers brushed against your sides as he pulled your shirt over your head. Connor took a moment to admire you and every line on your body. You wrapped your arms back around Connor’s neck as he wrapped his around your waist, bringing his hands up to your breasts. His hands were cold, but soft and gentle. You pushed your body against his this time, wanted to be closer to him. A low groan tumbled out of his mouth as you moved to straddle him. Your hands tugged at the hair in his bun, and he bucked forward bringing moans from both of your mouths this time. You quickly pulled away and gently tugged at his pajama pants. In a fluid motion, he flipped you so you were on your back and his arms on either side of you, seemingly protecting you from the outside world.
“Are you sure you want to?” Connor asked before going back to your lips.
“100% sure,” you replied smiling up at him.
“I’ve never really you know…uhmm…I don’t have experience,” he said trying to look you in the eyes.
“I don’t care, and we don’t have to do anything,” you said as you pushed a loose strand of hair behind his ears.
“I fucking want to, I just wanted you to know,” and with that he brought his lips back to yours. It felt as if all the oxygen was brought back to your body. Suddenly it felt as if there were too many clothes on. You started pulling down his pajama pants and Connor helped as swiftly pull them off and kick them to the floor. With his length free he tugged on your pants. You desperately kicked them off and Connor laughed. Expecting Connor to bring his lips back to yours you closed your eyes. Instead, you felt him slowly kiss down your stomach. Your breath hitched as he got closer and closer to where you felt your heat radiating. With his eyes looking at you he made his way to your core. You gasped and felt yourself grab at the sheets.
“I t-t-thought you said you had n-no experience,” you breathed out.
“There’s a thing called the internet.”
“Thank you internet,” you laughed, “as much fun as this is, I want you…now.” With that permission he brought himself back to you, hovering as you stroked his shaft.
“I’d stop that now if I were you, if you ‘want me’,” he said with a shaky voice. You slightly laughed and brought your lips to his once more. The feeling of him on top of you made you feel safe and at home, nothing nerve racking about it, instead it felt right. Connor positioned himself and slowly entered you. Moans slipped from your mouth and you could feel Connor shudder. Even in the moment of so much intimacy you couldn’t help but look at Connor. His eyes squeezed shut, hair tumbling out of the bun, the bucking of his hips that made you believe that there is heaven on earth. With each movement of Connor’s hips against you more and more pleasure surrounded you, and the noises coming from Connor’s mouth were enough to bring you to the edge. With the final thrusts Connor gave, you felt as if your body were on a high, and you knew Connor’s was too with his climax.
“My gosh,” he panted, “I think now would be an okay time to say that I like you a lot, shit maybe even love you.”
You laughed at Connor’s words, while he dramatically flopped down on the bed next to you.
“I like you a lot too. Hell I know I love you,” you spoke as you moved your head onto Connor’s chest.
“Good because I was trying to seem cool. I know I love you too.” And with that Connor put his arms around your bare body.
“I’m happy we’re on the same page.” You sat up and Connor tried to grab you in his arms.
“I’m only putting my pajamas back on so we don’t scar Zoe,” you said trying to find your clothes in the dim light.
“Well, I found my shorts.”
“Just take my shirt and throw me my pants.” You made your way back to Connor’s bed, half dressed. You got back in his bed and he enveloped you in his arms.
“So I guess we’ll have to tell Zoe,” you said with a nervous tinge in your voice.
“I don’t think she’ll mind, she’ll just be happy to see you more.” With that you nuzzled your head on his bare chest.
“Can I ask you something Connor?”
“Anything, I mean you’ve seen me naked, so anything.”
“If horses had cults what do you think they would do?”
“What the fuck?”

Spidey’s Got a Girlfriend?!

“I promise I’ll be there,” Peter spoke, and Tony over heard him on the phone. Tony leaned against the door frame to his office where Peter stood taking his phone call.

“Hey, I apologized for last time… I know… I can’t wait… I-I love you too. Bye” Peter hung up, a smile tugging at his lips. The boy looked absolutely love sick, it made Tony smile a little.

“Was that your girlfriend?” Tony asked as he walked in.

“Ah! Mr. Stark, how long were you right there?” Peter whirled around to look at Tony. Tony rose an eyebrow, his smile only growing.

“Not long. Tell me about the girl,” Tony sauntered into his office and sat behind his desk. Peter was absolutely red in the face and obviously looking for any way out of this conversation.

“What girl?” Peter played dumb.

“Come on, kid. You’ve got to be a better liar than that to fool me… unless it’s not a girl, which is fine. Tell me about them.”

Peter sighed and sat in one of the chairs on the other side of Tony’s desk. He was still obviously blushing, “She’s from my school, and we’ve been dating for a while.”

“How long?”

“Six months.”

“Jesus, I don’t think I had a relationship that lasted longer than six days when I was your age. How do you do it?” Tony say up, suddenly fascinated by the conversation. He thought maybe this was a two week thing, something casual, and the ‘I love you’ that was exchanged was premature and naïve. However after learning the time frame of the relationship he had to rethink that; maybe it was sincere.

“She’s really great,” Peter mumbled, still obviously embarrassed.

“Well where are you taking this great girl? And why haven’t I met her? Does your Aunt know about her?”

“Yeah Aunt May knows and we’re going to the art museum. She likes to make fun of the classics. And I guess you haven’t met her because I didn’t think you wanted to. ”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I dunno, you’re busy, I guess. And it’s just a normal thing, not a super hero thing.”

Tony suddenly felt kind of bad about that. He wanted to know these things, if only because he was nosey. At that moment, he decided the previous matters on which this meeting was called on was no longer important. He wanted to know all about Peter’s girlfriend, and this date they were supposed to be having. This was kind of big. First loves were important right? People married their high school sweet hearts all the time. Sure those marriages often ended in divorce but sometimes they don’t. Tony realized there was so much wisdom he needed to share with Peter. Were they being safe, taking the proper precautions so they didn’t ruin their future with a baby?!

“Okay, kid,” Tony inhaled sharply, trying to put his spiraling thoughts to rest, “Tell me all about this girl.”

Peter eventually had to leave to go on his date, but Tony just wasn’t satisfied with simply hearing about the girl. So he called in someone who understood the concept of trusting no one and treating everyone like they’re suspicious.

“Hey Natasha,” he spoke on the phone.

“What, Stark?”

“So Underoos has a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, her name is Y/N.”

“You already searched her up?”

“No Peter told me about her, the time you asked me to keep an eye on him while you were in Mumbai.”

“He just told you about her?!”

“He needed advice on what kind of flowers to get her. If it makes you feel better, I also did some background checks and things like that on her. She’s an average student, she’s a part of few little clubs, most notably she’s on the newspaper. She’s got some award winning articles too. I think she wants to be a journalist.”

“They’ve been together six months Natasha.”

“I know, tonight is there six month anniversary. They’re going to a couple of museums. They’re at the art museum right now.”

“… Are you trailing them?”

“Of course I am. This Y/N girl is great for him, I can’t let him screw it up.”

Tony was quiet for a beat, “I’ll meet you there.”

Tony and Natasha watched from far off  at the two teens. They held hands as they walked through the art museum. She pointed at a painting and said something that made Peter laugh. Tony put in an ear piece that allowed him to hear what the two was saying.

“I’m just saying, Daphne turned into a fucking tree,” Y/N laughed, “Ancient Greek mythology is fucked up.”

“She swears a lot,” Tony grumbled, he looked over to Natasha to see her smiling a little, “Natasha!” he chastised.

“What? It’s kind of funny.”

The couple kept walking. Y/N rested her head on Peter’s shoulder as they went to the next painting. It was of Sappho and her many lovers. Y/N read the description in front of the painting aloud.

“ Sappho and a close friend, huh?” she said sarcastically.

“Mmhm, just two gals being pals,” Peter agreed.

“Oh yeah, because I kiss my girl friends on the mouth all the time. No homo, dude.”

“Definitely not. Sappho was just a woman who was close friends with a lot of other women.”

“Yeah, nothing gay about that, dude. She totally wasn’t a lesbian.”

“Oh no definitely not.”

They were both starting to laugh, because the picture in front of them was so blatantly gay. Y/N continued on about how historians will go to any lengths to make things heterosexual. Natasha was trying to keep it together and not outright laugh at the things Y/N said. Tony was trying very hard not to instantly like Y/N, because he didn’t even know this girl, but he couldn’t help but to smile every time Peter laughed.  Peter was just a kid in love with her, and he so rarely embraced being a kid. He was trying to be more mature so he could be a better super hero, but these precious moments of youth were passing him by. He couldn’t help but to think Y/N was good for him. Y/N and Peter got to a particular sculpture in which she tried to mimic the pose the statue was in. It was admittedly a complete failure, but Peter tried to. He was no closer to matching the pose than she was.  They laughed at their mutual failure and continued on. They eventually left the art museum and got lunch together.

“She’s a good kid,” Natasha assured as they sat with their coffee al fresco across the street from the restaurant the two of you went in to.

“Well I didn’t think she’d be bad… just maybe not right for Peter. He’s a sweet kid, and people like to crush kindness when they find it.”

“This girl has been with him for six months, and do you know how many times Peter has cancelled plans with her to go save someone in need. She doesn’t even know he’s Spider-Man. She just trusts that whatever he’s doing is important… so if anyone is going to get hurt in all of this… it’s probably her.”

“How many times has he cancelled.”

“14,” Natasha over articulated then took a sip of her coffee.

“Jesus,” Tony sighed.

“Yep, and she’s still here.”

“He should tell her.”

“I think so too, but he’ll only take so much advice from me. But you know how much being a superhero can strain on a relationship, maybe he’d take the advice better from you.”

Tony turned his head and watched as Y/N pulled out a box from her purse. He listened in on their conversation.

“I know we both agreed not to get each other presents until our year anniversary, but I saw this and I thought of you,” Y/N spoke.

Peter went to speak, obviously about to chastise her for getting him a gift but she held up a hand to stop him.

“I didn’t spend a dime on it.”

Peter opened the box and a smile took over his face. It was a super old polaroid camera that 1977 would soon be calling for.

“You know now that I think about it… that’s probably worth a lot of money,” she spoke offhandedly, “But I don’t use it anymore, and I know you’ve been collecting cameras so…just promise me you won’t sell it.” she shrugged again. Tony could tell she was trying to seem casual about the gift, but she’d probably spent days trying to figure out what to get Peter.

“Of course I’m not going to sell it. How did you just have this?”

“It was a gift from my grandma,” she sighed, Peter motioned to give it back, “No, you keep it. I never use it, and my grandma would have wanted someone to use that camera, and love it the way you love the rest of your cameras.”

“… I will,” he gave her a soft smile. He put the camera’s strap around his neck. He then reached into his own pocket to get a small box.

“Looks like neither of us can follow directions,” Peter smiled ruefully as he slid the box to her.

“God dammit, Parker. I wanted to be the master gift giver this time,” she joked as she took the box. She undid the bow around it and opened the box. She looked up at him, confused by the content of the box, or rather surprised.

“Pete.”

“It’s a uh… a promise ring,” Peter was red again, “Not to get too intense or anything… it’s just that I know it bothers you that I cancel a lot… even though you don’t say anything about it. I just wanted to show you that I really do want to keep you forever.”

“Oh god that’s so sweet, I’m gonna throw up,” Natasha groaned.

“Jeez, who raised this kid.” Tony complained looking away from the scene he thought to be cringe worthy, because of course that was too much for a high school relationship. It was entirely too much.

“His aunt is a hopeless romantic.” Natasha explained.

“You’re gonna make me cry, Pete,” Y/N spoke and as she did she seemed to already be dabbing tears from her eyes.

“Oh wow, she’s into it,” Tony said surprised by the turn of events. Peter pulled his own ring on as Y/N put on hers. Y/N leaned over the table and kissed Peter. It wasn’t one of those long winded kisses that Rom-Coms glorify, it was sweet and simple.

“Ew this is too sweet. I think I’m getting diabetes just from watching it,” Tony complained but he didn’t look away. As Y/N sat back on her side of the booth, Peter put his camera up and snapped a picture of her.

“Pete,” she complained.

“I want to remember this moment forever,” He explained as he pulled the picture from the little slot and shook it absently.

“Yeah but I’ve still got tears in my eyes,” she laughed a little. Peter smiled as he looked down at the slowly forming picture.

“You look beautiful,” Peter assured turning the picture toward her.

“We’ve got another museum to go to, silly boy,” she reminded, “We can’t spend forever here.”

Tony came back to himself at her words. He and Natasha should go. They should allow Peter the youthful innocence of his first love without prying eyes.

~Mod Lillian

The Painting

Hi babes!💘 this is a smutty oneshot about the reader ignoring Tom when she gets an idea for a new painting, and Tom only wanting to gain her attention more! A small argument and sexy time ensues! I hope that you guys like it!👼🏻

The Painting

When Tom had come home, he’d found her with her hair tossed messily into a bun, stains of color smeared across her skin, and standing in front of a rather large canvas dressed in an imbrued art smock. The smock in which his girlfriend sported was backless, and Tom was delighted to find that she was wearing nothing but a pair of sheer, pink panties and bobby socks beneath it. He not only had a clear view of her legs, but her bum as well, and there was absolutely no way Tom thought that he would be complaining about anything when she was in such a state, but, there he was, complaining.
“Baby,” Tom whined, flopping into the nearest chair to her, “pay attention to me. I’ve spent my entire day missing you and now you’re barely even speaking to me.”
She sighed, scrunching up her nose and pursing her lips, scrutinizing the piece of art in front of her. Crossing the room to mix together a concoction of red, pink, silver and white paint to create the perfect rosy tint, she answered Tom. “You know that I’m not trying to ignore you, I love you. It’s just that I think I may finally be breaking through the weird mental block I’ve had for a while.”
Tom nodded, understanding that she supported his artistic expressions, so he would have to buck up and support hers. It wasn’t as if he was unhappy with her painting, in fact, he was the exact opposite. He was thrilled to see her final product, and he loved seeing the spark of imagination light up her eyes, but as Tom said before, he missed her so much. Their time together had always been limited and he was jealous that her painting was receiving more attention than he was, considering that she could spend a million and one hours with her painting at her leisure, but she had maybe 90 something hours with him .
She plopped down into Tom’s lap and kissed him on the cheek, “you can mix the paints if you wanna.”
Tom held the spatula that his girlfriend had handed over to him, and did his best to focus on following her directions, while defying the feeling of his girlfriend in basically squirming around on his lap while she glided her soft, warm lips up and down the base of his throat in between her orders.
“Can I see what you’ve done so far?” Tom asked, curious as to what she was even painting.
Her kisses paused briefly, and then started up again between the words she said, “No! You can only see once I’m finished. I want it to be a surprise.”
Tom groaned, “is this good?” he motioned the colors he’d mixed. When she nodded, she made sure to turn her head to press a heavy, hot kiss to Tom’s lips before she hopped off of him. Sliding a hand down his face, Tom got up to leave the room. If he’d stayed there any longer, the images of her bending over in next to nothing would make him too hard to bare, so he decided that while she painted, he would busy himself with whatever nonsense that he came into contact with.
It had been a day and a half since her art project began, and since then, Tom had learned how assemble both a dresser and a cabinet, fixed every leaky faucet and broken appliance in her apartment, and had perfected a few random recipes he’d stumbled across on the internet. He was going out of his mind.
As time went on, she became even more and more appetizing to him. She was passionate and focused and Tom was, at that point, hard. No matter how many hot showers, cold showers, or even baths he’d taken, it wasn’t enough for him. Tom felt that if he didn’t have the real her soon, he’d burst into flames or melt into a puddle of sticky goo that would stain her carpet.
A few hours later, he heard the pitter patter of her socked feet rushing to meet him in the bedroom. Laying across her bed, Tom rolled over onto his side and peered at her smiling face when she entered the room.
“Tom, I need you.” She said, a blissful expression warming her features.
He quirked a brow at her, “oh yeah? What for, my darling, little love?” He looked her up and down, taking in the paint soils splashed all over her body, the exposed skin of her legs, her lack of bra, and hoped her response would indicate that she needed him to take her.
She rushed forward and knelt down by his bedside, taking his hand in hers, “help me with the painting, I’m just about finished.” She kissed his knuckles and laid her head onto her mattress.
“I thought that I wasn’t allowed to see it until it was all done?” Tom said confusedly.
“I know what I said, but I’ve changed my mind. The painting needs your special touch!” As she got up off the floor, still holding his hand, Tom could think of more than a few things that could use his special touch.
When she finally brought him to a stop in front of her painting, Tom understood why she hasn’t allowed him near it. He could tell that the figures trapped within her canvas were lovers, even though they appeared to be more similar to florets than people. All the colors were soft and romantic, and he could see that she had added a tinge of shimmer to particular images, so the painting looked mystical and otherworldly. Truth be told, if he’d gotten anywhere close to it earlier in the day, he would’ve messed it up.
“Darling,” Tom breathed out, desperately trying to figure out how to express the level of his admiration to her, “I just don’t know how you manage to be so fucking magical all the time. It’s beautiful, I love it, but I’m afraid that me just standing this close to it will ruin it. Unless you need me to lift it, I don’t know how to help you.” Tom bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead, moving to tuck some of her untamed fringe back behind her ear, where he couldn’t help himself but press a kiss to her earlobe as well.
Tugging his mouth back down onto hers, she mumbled in between long kisses, “help me just fill in a few spots, then it’s yours. I read somewhere that if someone helps you complete a task, the task, or in this case, the painting, will make that person think of you.” She broke away from Tom for a brief moment, and Tom heard her airly whisper into the crook of his neck, “I wanna make you think of me.”
Tom’s eyes opened and he guided her body away from his, “what are you talking about?” He was so genuinely puzzled that his confusion took the place of his desire to have her until the sun came up. “I always think of you. Literally, always. Ask anyone I work with, I never shut up about you.”
“Okay,” she said, disbelief laced firmly into her tone. Grabbing a paintbrush, she leaned into Tom to kiss him again.
“No, no, baby. Honestly, do you not believe me?” Tom was growing so perplexed that he was starting to get angry. “I love you, do I not tell you enough or something?” He knew that he was being abrasive and slightly over sensitive, but he didn’t know why she was playing as if Tom didn’t care for her.
Groaning, she walked out of Tom’s reach and back to where she stored her varying paints. “Tom, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Uhm, nope. I’m going to worry about this because I’m pretty sure that this is something most couples in a healthy relationship would speak about.” Tom said, moving to stand in front of her.
“Let’s not do this,” she said, pushing her art smock’s strap back up to it’s proper place on her shoulder.
“No, no, let’s!” Tom declared.
“Tom, no! There is literally no point to this argument, if you don’t want to help, it’s cool.” She stood onto her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to the corner of Tom’s unprepared lips. “See? It’s all good,” she said, going around Tom and back to her mostly filled in canvas.
“Please, can you just talk to me, darling?” Tom wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her body to him as tightly as he could without crushing her. “I love you and what’s important to you is what’s important to me. So please, please clue me in.”
The girl didn’t even need to turn around to feel his puppy dog eyes burning a hole into her back. “Fine,” she said shortly, “when ‘Homecoming’ drops, you’re going to be huge, bigger than you already are. Like you’ve said before, life is going to change and nobody can say for sure what will and will not change, only that there will be changes, and if life makes you go away, at least you’ll have this painting. At least I’ll be remembered as the girl who painted you the weirdly rosy painting.”
Tom was so stunned that he couldn’t think of one appropriate thing to say. “Are you serious? Sounds like you’re pretty sure you know what’s going to happen with us, huh, smart girl?” He knew that getting mad wasn’t going to help the situation, but his feelings were hurt that she thought he’d drop her just like that.
Removing his hands from her body, Tom turned, “fuck it, that is so irritating. I am not leaving you, and unless you plan on ditching me, I think that we’re going to be together for more than a long while, darling.” He sneered, pacing back and forth across the limited space her living room provided. “This is ridiculous, you’re so intelligent, so why you’ve gotten that into your head, I have no idea. I’ve made sure to factor you into nearly all aspects of literally everything I do, now why do you think that is?”
She knew that she was being dumb, but she couldn’t help it. She was so paranoid that Tom would be out one day and he would come across someone shiny and new, and then he’d realize that being with her was not what he wanted anymore. When she started her painting, her only goal had been to give Tom something that would leave an imprint of her in his mind, so that no matter what happened with them in the future, she would still be apart of him.
Her eyes grew glassy and tears threatened to boil over her waterline and smudge her mascara. She was mad at herself for being so insecure, and for possibly ruining her relationship with the one thing she’d meant to sort of bandage over her issues, and she couldn’t come up with a statement to justify herself to Tom.
Tom looked over to her figure, standing in front of the pink canvas, frilled bobby socks and lacy blue panties in all. Even though he was both pissed off and taken aback by her behavior, Tom couldn’t deny the urge to just slam himself into and make her understand she was the only person on the planet for him. Muttering, “oh, for fucks sake,” Tom marched purposefully over to her and smashed his lips roughly down onto hers.
Yanking her hair out of it’s rubber confinement, he broke away from her to watch it tumble down in waves to frame her face. Forcing her to look into his eyes by pressing a finger beneath her chin, Tom practically growled, “I am not going anywhere without you in my life. It’s like they say on that one soap opera that never seems to end, you’re my person. Couldn’t leave you to save my life, I’d come back to you forever.” He looked into her eyes, trying to find better words to make her understand that he was completely and utterly dead serious. “Get it?”
Her lips were puffy and her skin was still soft, despite being nearly every color of the rainbow and Tom was going to rip that smock off her body if it was the last thing he did. He could tell that she was humiliated that she let her paranoia get the best of her, and Tom, for a brief thought thought that she deserved it for thinking so lowly of their relationship. He only stopped once he took into account that if the roles were reversed, he’d be a snivelling mess of a human being because she was an angel among humans. He didn’t deserve her, but then again, surely no one else did either.
Tom’s grip on her calmed and he lovingly pried the paintbrush out of her hand and shuffled her around in his arms so that she too faced her masterpiece. “We’re going to paint this together,” Tom said, as his hands began softly untying the knot of her smock. “I’m going to continue thinking of you always and forever, even though you’re still going to be my girl and I’ll still be undeniably yours. Got it?”
Her eyes fell shut and she gasped when she felt Tom’s mouth press adoringly wet kisses to her exposed shoulders. She arched her back as one of Tom’s hands moved to the front of her body to knead her breasts. Blinking her eyes open, she saw that Tom’s other hand was still clutching the paintbrush and that he was currently dipping its tip into a circle of paint. “Answer me,” Tom ordered, sinking his teeth into her skin.
“Got it, got it, got it,” she rambled out dreamily. “Gonna be your girl forever.”
Maneuvering her slightly so that his view of the canvas would be clearer, Tom began to paint the little empty spaces she’d left for him with long brushstrokes. “That’s right sweetheart, my girl forever.” Switching hands, Tom held her to him with the hand that was also holding the paintbrush, and yanked the closest chair in arm’s reach over to where they stood. Sitting down, Tom guided her around to face him before pulling her onto his lap.
Her cheeks were rosy from a mix of blush and paint and her lips were parted and her chest was heaving. Her gaze flicked up and down Tom’s body so obviously that he had to smirk. Forcing her closer, Tom brought his hips closer to hers and watched as she subconsciously leaned into him, bracing her hands on his chest.
She shuffled a bit further onto his lap, so that she was aligned perfectly with the bulge in his jeans. Letting out a gasp, her hips bucked against him and she bit down on her lip to prevent another louder gasp from escaping.
Tom’s arms constricted themselves around her, one went around her waist and the other tangled itself into her hair. “I think the painting is finished.”
Not even turning to look, she nodded, breathing out a response so faint that Tom couldn’t even make it out. She slid a hand under Tom’s shirt to trace over the lines of defined muscle on his stomach. “I’m really sorry about earlier. I don’t know why my head makes me think things like that.”
Tom kissed her tenderly on both cheeks before placing an even softer kiss to her mouth, “it’s alright, darling. I don’t know why I got so mad before. I honestly don’t know how my head would make me think if our roles were reversed.”
“I’ll love you forever,” she said, rolling her hips onto Tom’s lap.
“I’ll love you for some time after that,” Tom chuckled, his hips beginning to meet hers. “But don’t take my word for it,” Tom began to litter kisses up and down her throat while he reached up to untie her smock, “let me show you how fucking much I love you.”
“Okay,” she said, her lips covering Tom’s as his hands tore the art smock from her body. Their hips collided as their clothes became one with her floor, and the rosy painting in front of them was to be hung and framed in the apartment that they came to share.

The Arrangement (pt 5)

Originally posted by bangtanroyalty

After having a quick dinner, you set the table with Jimin’s food and made your way to your room. You immediately started packing all that you could and all the while made a mental list of all the things you wanted to get at the store tomorrow before your in-laws would be home. 

Jimin came to the kitchen a little while later and he was expecting you to be sitting at the table, eating dinner. But instead, he found some dirty dishes in the sink and his food set on the table. He hated eating alone, but he got used to it at night. Sometimes you would eat with him for breakfast, but you only ever sat in silence. You had one friendly conversation after all these months, so nothing was supposed to change in your dynamic… right? He sighed as he pulled his chair out and sat down. 


The next morning, Jimin woke up to the sound of the vacuum. He turned to look at the clock and was surprised that it was already 9:30. Usually, he would have been at work by this time, but he had taken the day off in order to prepare for his parent’s arrival. He quickly brushed his teeth and took a shower in order to prepare for the long day ahead. He entered the living room a few moments later only to find it more clean than usual. You had always made it a deal to have the house clean, but everything was in tip top shape today. The magazines were all organized neatly on the coffee table and that vacuum patterns on the carpet were left to be admired. He looked up to your side of the house and found a few boxes outside. You exited your room a few minutes later, wiping off some sweat from your forehead. 

You hadn’t heard Jimin wake up and you figured you would just let him sleep in on his day off. You weren’t really sure how much help he would be anyways. 

“So…I guess I’ll move these boxes into my room then?” he asked, walking towards the first box.

“Oh. Uh, good morning. And yeah, that would be great, thank you” you said, thankful for the help. 

Pretty soon, all the boxes were moved into his room and you were almost done cleaning the house. You had been up since 6am, cleaning and packing and rearranging the guest room. You still had so much left to do though and you were tired just thinking about it. 

“How about you go unpack the boxes? I cleared out some space for you in the closet and in the bathroom” Jimin said. He could notice how tired you looked already, but the job had to be done. The act had to be perfect.

Keep reading

cryptidsanonymous  asked:

I just read everything in your gods and monsters series and wow I am in awe. I am absolutely blown away by your writing it's beautiful the Icarus one had me staring at a wall for ten minutes afterwards absorbing what I'd just read. anywhoozle, I love everything you've written and not to rush or pressure you or anything but I was wondering if perhaps we could get more of the greek mythology stories?

a continuation of this


Caeneus has only ever had two loves in his life.

First is the sea. He’s loved her his whole life, heard her siren song from the time he had long curly hair and still tolerated being put in dresses and called a girl. He loves the sea like his parents go to temple, in an unmovable and inexplicable way that he no longer questions.

Second is Poseidon. Foolish, but so achingly kind. He’s a man who professes his wish to master the sea without ever really understanding it, and Caeneus smiles and kisses the stress lines from his brow but does not worry.

The sea has never loved him back, and it never will. She is power and coldness and loss, and her beauty is in her tragedy. Poseidon is warmth and thoughtfulness and strong hands on his hips. He is nothing like the sea, and he will never rule it.

Caeneus knows this, and he’s relieved by it. Poseidon loves him back. Poseidon is not the sea.

Then he wakes up to his lover’s lips on his neck, cold enough that flinches away from the sensation, and for a terrifying moment he doesn’t recognize the person touching him as the man he loves.

“I can do it now,” he whispers, and cool fingers splay against his waist, “I can make you the man you want to be.”

Caeneus wants the body that men usually have, wants people to stop looking at him and seeing a woman. But if Poseidon had asked, he would have told him – Caeneus would choose his lover over a new body, would rather live as he does now than have Poseidon harm himself for his benefit.

But he did not ask, so Caeneus closes his eyes and accepts the gift his lover is so eager to give him.

~

Amphitrite has never had a heart before.

She was the sea, and what she desired, she took. Men, women – she wanted, and she had, and then she moved on.

But the heart in her chest is softer, warmer. It turns her pearl hued skin pink and makes her swim to the surface to watch the sun set, makes something like empathy stir inside her when before all she had was selfishness.

The heart in her chest is in love, and she thought it was something she could control, something she could stop. It’s not. It will be one day, when she masters this heart in her chest, but not yet. She spends hours following Caeneus as he sails her seas, guides fish into his net and feels her borrowed heart beat that much faster whenever he pears into the ocean and she catches sigh of his gorgeous amber eyes.

So she says to Poseidon, “You spend too much time on the shore for a god of the sea.”

He glances at her, and his eyes are green just like hers, are cold and uncaring just like hers used to be. She wonders what her eyes look like now. “Caeneus is on the shore.”

“Bring him here if you’re so concerned with your mortal,” she says, focusing on weaving shells into her hair and giving the impression that she couldn’t care less what he does with his mortal plaything. “The palace is big enough.”

He stops and turns to her, eyebrow raised. “You do not mind me bringing him here?”

“Do with your mortal as you wish,” she repeats, and stamps down on the trembling joy in her chest, “It’s no concern of mine.”

~

Caeneus doesn’t know how to love a god of the sea. He knew how to love Poseidon – take him onto the water to watch the sunrise, feed him warm, sweet drinks, and let him curl around him at night and listen to his stories of his siblings, of impossible gods who do impossible things.

But now he sits in a palace under water, with his own room and the freedom to see the other side of the ocean he loves so dearly. There are no sunsets here, no cocoa to barter for, and Poseidon doesn’t tell him stories any more.

Poseidon still loves him. He kisses him and holds his hips when they sleep together and keeps him by his side while he crosses the sea and gains more and more control over this domain that he now commands. Poseidon still loves him, he tells himself when he itches to return to the surface and the home Poseidon build for him, and the life he built for himself.

He didn’t want to be a consort of the king of sea. He just wanted to be Caeneus, a man who loved a man and was loved in return, a man who loved the sea even though it would never love him back.

The sea will never love him back. He’s known that since he was a child, so the real question is – how much of the Poseidon he knew is left, and how much of him the depths of the ocean?

~

There’s a hurricane that requires her husband’s attention, and even he is not so foolish as to bring his lover to a place as dangerous as that. Which means it’s the perfect time for her to run into him in the interior gardens, as he stares up through the iridescent seaweed to the rays of sunlight that just manage to penetrate the water. “Do you miss it?” she asks him, and he startles, swinging around to face her and stumbling away.

“My lady!” he says, and falls to his knees before her, bowing his head. It’s what she expects of all mortals, but not from him, never from him. The heart in her chest loves him, and if it’s not her heart, well – the rest of her doesn’t know the difference. “A thousand apologies.”

“You are welcome here,” she says, and smiles. She’s never smiled quite like this before, she’s never felt quite like this before, fond and fluttery and so painfully eager that it would be embarrassing if she ever dared articulate it. It’s a wonder Poseidon managed to get anything done at all if this is what he had in his chest.

He looks up, hesitant, and she holds out her hand. He takes it, and she pulls him to his feet, pulls him closer until they’re nearly touching and he’s forced to look up into her eyes or be stuck staring at her chin. He’s warmer than her, she can feel the heat pouring off him in waves, and she wants him to hold her in his arms so she can languish against him like she would a sun-warmed rock.

Before she had a heart, she took who and what she wanted, when she wanted it.

Now she has a heart, and she takes his hands in both of hers and says, “Would you like to visit the surface? I can take you, and bring you back before my husband returns.”

He’s hesitant because he’s afraid of her. Caeneus will never love her, because although she holds the heart he loves she is not the person the heart belongs to. Not that he knows any of that, not that anyone will ever know the details of her and Poseidon’s arrangement. But she doesn’t want Caeneus to be afraid of her. She wants him to smile at her like she is a sunrise. “Yes, please,” he decides on finally.

She stands and watches as he walks through his home, as he touches the hearth and looks longingly at the bed, as he stands in the small cottage that he clearly prefers over her palace, over all the riches and adoration that comes with being consort to the sea.

Caeneus is a simple man, whose heart loves with a simple love.

He is a man whose heart loves someone who now has no heart, and Amphitrite can’t bring herself to tell him. She’s the one who took it away, and she won’t give it back.

She likes having a heart, and one day she will need to return it, but not now, not yet, not for a long time.

~

Caeneus lies besides Poseidon, curled up so his head rests on the god’s outflung arm and he can watch his chest rise and fall as he sleeps. There are bruises on Caeneus’s hips and down his chest, bite marks on his shoulder and up his neck. It’s not the first time his lover has been rough with him, and he doesn’t mind, like that Poseidon doesn’t touch him like he’s afraid he’ll break, likes that whenever he’s rough he’s careful enough with his strength not to ever cross the line from bruising to breaking.

It’s different than it used to be. It’s been different for a long time, ever since Poseidon somehow convinced the Lady to hand over her title as monarch, to share her power with him for no reason that Caeneus can see. It’s not love between them, because the sea does not love. But she got something out of it, something valuable enough to bargain away part of her power, and as soon as she did the man Caeneus loves ceased to exist.

He slides out of bed and angrily rubs at his eyes. He can’t do this anymore, can’t sleep and live with this man who has his lover’s face and memories and nothing else.

He knows this palace well, and everyone else knowns him too. The servants don’t question him, only offer shallow bows before hurrying on his way. He’s a fisherman who lives on the outskirts of society. He’s not any sort of person that people were meant to bow to. He stands in front of an ornate set of carved doors, the beautiful shimmering inside of a muscle shell of impossible size. Two guards stand at each door, but neither move to stop him as he pushes it open and slips inside.

“Lady?” he whispers. Large, bioluminescent carvings flare to life all across the room, bathing them in soft golden-green light. Amphitrite pulls herself out of bed, green hair loose around her and the rest of her on display, pale and flawless, as perfect an example of a beautiful woman as Caeneus has ever seen, and he averts his gaze. “Lady!”

“So modest,” she teases, and when he glances over she’s in a simple white robe and pulling her hair up behind her. She looks vulnerable like this, almost like his mother did when she would rouse him and his father from sleep in the darkness of early morning so they could catch the fish while they were still sleeping. “What’s going on Caeneus? I thought my husband had exclusive rights to your nights,” she winks, and he forces a smile.

He walks over to her, takes her hands in his because he knows she likes how warm he runs compared to her, and her smile slips off her face. “Please,” he whispers, “Poseidon is different than he once was, and I want to know why. Please.”

~

She shouldn’t tell him, but the heart in her chest loves him, and she loves him too, thinks she would even without Poseidon’s heart influencing her.

So she tells him, and when he starts crying she brushes away his tears and he doesn’t stop her. “He’ll never love you like he once did,” she tells him, “It’s not that he doesn’t want to, he just can’t.”

“The sea doesn’t love you back,” he says, because he knows, because he’s a skilled sailor, because he’s one of the people who has worshipped her his whole life without ever expecting anything back, because that’s what an ocean gives back – nothing at all. “Can – can I give you my heart?”

She stares. “Excuse me?”

“Let me give you my heart,” he pleads, “so that I may hold Poseidon’s in my chest. You can have mine, I know I’m only a mortal–”

“You’re all mortal to me,” she says, because a hundred years, a thousand, ten thousand, what does it matter – she and Gaia were around long before gods and humans, and they’ll be around long after them. “If I give you Poseidon’s heart, you will become a god.”

He pales and flinches away from her. He’s not in this for power, this was never about power to him. It was always about love. “Lady, I’m not trying to – I don’t want that.”

“If you become a god,” she continues, because she loves him and that means she wants him to be happy, even at her own expense, “you will be alive when the time comes for me to reclaim my title of monarch. One day I will take back my heart from Poseidon, will reclaim the cold, black thing in his chest as my own, and when I do he will no longer be master of the sea. When I do, you can give him back his heart, and he will love you as he loved you before, as he will always love you.”

Caeneus has a hand over his chest and there’s so much hope shining in his eyes that it’s almost painful to look at. “Please, Lady. Please. I love him, let me carry his heart, let me have him back once you are done. I will wait.”

“It will be a long time,” she answers honestly, “Empires will rise and fall before I’m willing to give this up, before Poseidon will be willing to give up his power over the sea.”

“I will wait,” Caeneus repeats, “I love him. If you have my heart, maybe you will grow to love him too. If you have my heart, you will protect him, you will keep him safe.”

Amphitrite loves Caeneus, and Caeneus loves Poseidon, and Poseidon is incapable of loving anyone at all. “Very well,” she whispers, because a heart is a heart, and just like Poseidon she’s unable to deny Caeneus anything.

She breaks open her chest and takes out the warm, beating heart of Poseidon. She slits open Caeneus’s chest for him, and holds him upright while struggles to take out his heart and clumsily places in into her chest. She heals over instantly, and nestles Poseidon’s heart in Caeneus’s ribcage. He too heals over, and his eyes flash with power as the heart settles inside of him.

Caeneus becomes so much more than a mortal man in that moment.

This heart doesn’t feel too different, she still loves Caeneus because she’s capable of loving and he is worthy of it. “Go,” she says, “Say your goodbyes, and leave. If you stay, he’ll just continue hurting you, and in a few thousand years he’ll hate himself for it. Leave now, and spare both of you that pain.”

He leans forward and cups her face in his hands, kissing her on each cheek. “Thank you,” he breathes, and then he’s gone.

~

Caeneus can feel the power of a god flowing into him, but he doesn’t care about that, the only reason he’s glad he’s a god now is so he’ll live long enough to get Poseidon back, to get the Poseidon who loves him back.

He goes back to where Poseidon is sleeping, and takes a long, careful look. It will be a long time before he sees this man again. He kisses him on the lips, softly and carefully, the way Poseidon first kissed him when he thought he was sleeping.

Then he leaves, stepping outside the palace and using his newly gained powers to bring himself to the shore.

~

Poseidon is furious, bur Amphitrite won’t budge, says only that Caeneus left. He throws a temper, and half the palace is lost in the aftermath, but she does not care.

She doesn’t tell him that she no longer carries his heart. It doesn’t matter. Caeneus’s heart beats in her chest, and she sits on her throne amongst the rubble and does nothing more than sigh at the way he threatens to tear the world apart looking for his lover. It will pass. The depth and coldness of the sea is unable to sustain such fits of wild passion.

Years pass. Rumors reach them of a sea god, one who is known for rescuing sailors and fisherman from storms, one who they say used to be a mortal fisherman himself.

They call him Glaucus, and say that he swallowed a magical herb to become a god.

She smiles when she hears these rumors, and thankfully Poseidon has long given up trying to get her to explain herself. The rumors are only half right, but she likes hearing them none the less.

It comforts her to hear that Caeneus is well.


gods and monster series, part xiii

read more of the gods and monsters series here