he likes it so much he even proved it by doing it horizontally

Bitter Sweet

Jughead x Reader 

Requested: - Anonymous said: Hey um… I don’t know if you do requests… but I’ll just request and see what happens I guess? Okay, I really enjoy your writings and I was wondering if you could do a Jugheadxreader story where the reader is kinda depressed2 


can you do a jughead/riverdale imagine where jughead breaks up with the reader, and the whole “squad” leaves the reader, so in despair she goes to the river to kill herself ( like what Cheryl did ) and Jughead saves her?

Words: 2752

Warnings: self harm; depression; suicide attempt; suicidal thoughts.

Originally posted by xoheatherkw

“I’m sorry Y/N, I still love you but-”

“Then why are you leaving me! This isn’t fair.” I sobbed and gripped his shirt in my hands trying to stop keep him close.

“Y/N please. You’re making this harder for both of us. I promise you’re not losing me or anyone else.” He sighed and carefully pried my hands off of him and wiped my tears before walking me the rest of the way home.

I tried to go to bed but my thoughts kept me up as well as my constant crying and pain. I didn’t get any sleep that night despite how hard I tried to calm down and try get a few hours of rest. When my alarm went off in the morning I was already up, I pulled myself out of bed after convincing myself that it would be the best thing to do. I grabbed a pair of leggings and a huge baggy sweater from my cupboard and put them on before going to the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair. I looked in the mirror and only then could I see how badly I needed to rest, my eyes were puffy, red and had dark circles around them and tears stains ran down my cheeks with the general paleness of my face topping it all off. I left my face alone, make up can’t cover all this up so I just did my hair and went to my room fetching my bag and stepping outside.

I waited outside for two minutes out of habit which made nearly cry again, Jug always walked me to school, even before we were dating but I guess he doesn’t need me anymore even if we were just friends. So I walked to school all by myself with tears threatening to fall the whole way there. Once I got to school I cheered up a little when I saw Betty at her locker which is a few paces from mine, I strolled over to her and greeted her with a sigh which made her turn around quickly in curiosity.

“Oh hey Y/N… I’ve got to go.” She said bluntly and basically ran off in the other direction as I laughed which wasn’t a happy laugh it was a sad laugh at the crushing realization of the reality of my new world.

I spent the rest of the day trying to confront the people I used to call best friends but they all made up an excuse to leave before I even got my first sentence out. Even Archie ignored me, Archie Andrews, we had known each other since first grade and now it’s like we had never met. I blame Jug for all of this, he’s turned the people closest to me against me and what pisses me off even more is that I haven’t seen him all day, I thought I wasn’t going to “lose him or anyone else.”

Keep reading

Wanna One Fuckbois

A/N: the @smols-n-tols groupchat is honestly such a great place for dumping ideas and crying over them bc it’s too painful to think about the perfection that is wanna one also some of these lowkey have plot bc those are the more well-thought out ones

warning: mentions of the twiddly twonk, the horizontal tango, the sexy times


  • liSTEN
  • he tries really hard to be a fuckboi™
  • like he wears the right clothing, licks his lips at appropriate time, even has a hoard of girls that follow him around school
  • but he really can’t do it
  • he’s just too soft to reject anyone?
  • and you teased the hell out of him during his “fuckboi phase”
  • he’d rather deal with taxes and stability than see someone cry bc of him
  • “i can’t keep up with these kids” he says as he sips his tea, watching the rest of wanna one fuck around like the fuckbois they are
  • you, who’s sitting across from him, nod along, stealing a sip of his tea after he sets it down


  • he’s the jock™
  • he’s the goalkeeper and he’s the type to wear his letterman jacket like 24/7
  • he does it mainly out of pride for being on the varsity soccer team, but it’s also due to the fact girls legit swoon over him in his jacket
  • the type to go after cheerleaders, it’s something about short skirts and pom-poms lmao
  • tbh probably got with everyone on the cheer squad + the young coach
  • anyways, you’re the student body president and you dress like a president
  • slacks, dress shirt/blouse, etc.
  • except one day you wore a pencil skirt to school, and now you can’t get sungwoon to leave you alone


  • ice prince™
  • he’s really closed off, and girls find that really attractive 
  • anyways, he pretends to open up to them, tricking them into thinking he likes them so much he’d open up to them
  • and he doesn’t sleep with them or anything, just lots of building of false hope
  • it’ll last a week before he moves onto a new target, but no one tells each other because the stuff he tells the girls are super sensitive and they don’t want to expose him in anyway
  • joke’s on them, all of his “emotional turmoil and trauma” comes from Jonghyun’s mangas
  • anyways, his next target is you and right as he approaches you, you legit just “bye, felicia” and walk away
  • he’s intrigued by you now as he watches your retreating back


  • so he’s like the perfect example of fuckboi™
  • flaunts his hickeys and scratch marks on his back
  • and his bff is you, the school’s resident hoe™
  • you two compare hickey marks, rank your partners against each other, just typical fuckboi x hoe conversations 
  • anyways, one night over a couple beers you complain about your last partner and how terrible they were
  • and seongwoo just smirks at you and says “ofc, it’s cuz they’re nothing like me”
  • “you’re full of shit, ong”
  • “really? try me?”
  • and tbh y’all are drunk, shit happens
  • which involve you naked in his bed the next morning oOPS


  • music fuckboi™
  • frontman of the school’s resident rock band 
  • the band’s actually pretty famous and they have the groupies to prove it
  • jaehwan having the most groupies out of the members since his voice will legit send you to hong kong
  • anyways, you’re not a groupie, more like a ticket person for one of the venues they play at
  • and jaehwan tries to flirt with you, “i’m actually the lead singer”
  • “oh really? i like bassists the best” you don’t even look up from the cashbox
  • yeah, he’s pretty much accepted the challenge to show you that even though bassists do it deeper, singers do it louder


  • he’s just the brooding ripped fuckboi™
  • the type to be helping sungwoon with soccer practice before spontaneously taking off his shirt
  • probably has a tattoo or two
  • girls scream, boys faint, everyone in between die
  • you: “huh, it’s like -12 degrees. why is his shirt off?”
  • he messes around bc he’s honestly just bored with life 
  • like he doesn’t really want to do anything so might as well fuck people
  • you actually sleep with him one time, but you wake up before he does and leaves
  • and when he wakes up he’s so confused bc ????
  • he leaves people??? it doesn’t work the other way around??
  • so he keeps on sleeping with you until he can wake up before you
  • spoiler: he never does


  • soft fuckboi™
  • these are honestly the woRST
  • bc you think they’re nice and sweet but no, he’s just leading them on
  • he follows a point system: cheerleader = 15 pts, nerd = 2 pts, etc.
  • he accumulates like 200+ pts per month
  • and no one hates him bc he’s still nice to them afterwards???
  • the only person who hates him is you
  • you found his points journal in the hallway once and never looked at him the same
  • but you’ve never told anyone since no one would believe sweet jihoon with the tragic past would do something like that
  • so you’ve kept quiet
  • however, unknowingly to you, you’re worth 200 pts in his book, so you have no clue why he’s suddenly walking you to class and helping you with homework, and jihoon’s deadset on winning his 200 pts


  • not neccessarily a fuckboi™, more like a prankster
  • he’s the type to make fun of people over everything
  • also pulls a bunch of pranks 
  • and tbh some people find that attractive
  • “i love guys with a sense of humor”
  • you: “sweetie, he legit vandalized your locker,,,,”
  • them: “i love guys with a sense of humor”
  • anyways, woojin has a habit of teasing you a l o t
  • like, you got a haircut, well there’s something obviously wrong with it
  • new shirt? hideous 
  • tried out for the talent show? absolutely terrible
  • however, he only does this bc there’s something in his head telling him that there’s something about you,,,,and he doesn’t know how to express it unless it’s through mercilessly teasing you 
  • you tbh don’t put up with any of his bullshit, he gets a bruise everytime


  • the quiet fuckboi™
  • not really like minhyun in the sense he doesn’t really talk to the people that chase after him
  • he kinda just let them do stuff for him
  • math homework? siyeon from third block’s doing it for him
  • history paper? somi from fourth block’s got it
  • you never understood the hype until you find him making out with the girls behind the gym on different occasions 
  • so when the two of you get partnered for a science project, you make it adamantly clear the two of you are never approaching the gym
  • jinyoung just smirks in his seat and observes you, planning his next move


  • tryhard fuckboi™
  • the type to kiss up to the teacher every time they ask a question
  • and everyone in your class swoons over him bc wOW he’s so smart
  • you just roll your eyes from your second class rank position
  • anyways, daewhi has a habit of flirting with people who he finds useful for him
  • the music project? flirted with mina until she agreed to work with him on it
  • he dropped her after he got the A+
  • i guess kinda like jinyoung except he gets people to help him with stuff while jinyoung just happens to have people that want to help him
  • so while in math class one day the teacher announced that there was going to be a project due in a month
  • and for that week daehwi wouldn’t leave you alone


  • foreign exchange fuckboi™
  • “hey, i’m from taiwan”
  • them: “forEIGNER? HOLA?”
  • you: “,,,,,,,,,,,”
  • anyways, he’s the type to play innocent
  • “what is a, what do you call it in your language? a hickey?”
  • you know the noonas/hyungs are about to teach this boy exactly what a hickey is
  • and tbh it works bc if anyone tries to call him out he pulls the foreigner card
  • “i don’t know how this works in your country!”
  • and you actually are fluent in deciphering bullshit so you see through everything
  • plus you’re his host, so you talk to him normally all the time
  • however, it does get kind of weird when he has weird lapses of memory at home and has to ask you, once again, what french kissing was

i am trash,,,,,,,,,,,,,tbh a lot of these ideas came from some of the smols n tols admins especially admin dandan the catman, daehwi, jinyoung, and woojin. ily <3

Cringe (Reddie) Chapter Two

Summary: “I WILL NOT HAVE A FAGGOT AS A SON.” Mrs Kaspbrak’s palm struck Eddie across the face, silencing him.

I guess you don’t have a son then.” And with that Eddie, hand pressed to his burning cheek, walked past her, out the front door and into the night.

Warning(s): Self Harm, Sad Boys, suicidal thoughts, period typical homophobia, abuse of alcohol, (I will add more for later chapters)

Authors Note: This is my first offical fic! The title is from the song ‘Cringe’ by Matt Maeson. The characters are aged up, probably around 16? Feedback is much appreciated  ❤ 


Keep reading

Special Instructions (3/?)

Summary: Drunk Emma really likes pizza. She also really happens to like the cute delivery guy who seems content to carry out all of her wishes via the “Special Instructions” box on the website. (AO3)
Rating: M
Word Count: ~3800 (why do they keep getting longer?)
Chapters: One Two

hope u like crazy hot mess emma 😝 🍺🍻🍷🍸🍹🍾🍕 😵

remember a few months ago when i asked everyone to tell me stories of stupid/funny shit y’all did when drunk? thanks for the inspiration ;))

reader requested tags: @lenfaz @ilovemesomekillianjones @like-waves-on-the-beach 


Special instructions: pls send cute delivry guy, i missss himm   

One of the benefits of having a job with odd hours was that Emma could get completely trashed on a Tuesday evening and not give a single fuck as to how it would affect her the next morning. She’d started her own private party several hours earlier when all of her friends had turned her down for one reason or another. (Because they had jobs, mostly. Fucking party pooping productive members of society.)

She was giggling so hard she snorted when she clicked ‘order’ on the website, so beyond caring about anything that she felt no shyness or shame whatsoever.

Drunk did not even begin to cover it. Drunk was several homemade cocktails earlier. She was mixing a bunch of things she really shouldn’t be mixing. She couldn’t remember everything she ingested, but she did recall the two straight shots of tequila that she started off with (and what a way to start), as well as the few gulps of red wine that she took straight from the bottle because she was a respectable, refined adult. She vaguely recalled an almost-daiquiri of questionable flavor, as well as one particularly horrible concoction of Red Bull, triple sec, vodka, gin, and Gatorade because apparently she was trying to liquefy her internal organs.

(It didn’t help that she’d pulled out the entire contents of her alcohol cabinet and placed everything on her kitchen counter, giving her a wide selection of self-destructive options.)

Keep reading


It’s my birthday so I wrote a birthday fic


When I wake up, the bed next to me is empty, but I don’t worry.  I can hear bumping in the kitchen and the sheets where he slept are still warm. I’m not ready to move yet, but I breathe in deeply and the pillow smells like him, bright and sweet and sleepy. There’s really no reason for him to keep two pillows on his bed, when I spend the night we end up entwined so close that our heads share the same one.  My bones ache to stretch out but I don’t budge.  I can still feel the ghost of his arms, of his breath on my neck.  If I move I might break the spell.

           Pathetic, I think to myself.  We’ve been dating for months and still not a day goes by that I don’t think it must be a dream, it’s too good to be true.

           The door swings open slowly with one soft creak, and my eyes have drifted closed again but I don’t bother to open them. His bare feet tiptoe across the room, there’s a clink as he sets something down on the bedside table (a glass of water, maybe) and he climbs back into bed, careful not to disturb me, slotting himself in the crook of my neck as though neither of us had ever moved. He gives a sleepy sigh as he settles into place, and the sound alone makes me smile despite myself.

           I decide I’ve been unresponsive long enough and press a kiss to his forehead.

           He chuckles quietly.  “Are you awake or having a really nice dream?”

           “You tell me.”

           “Morning, Baz.”

           “Morning, Simon.”

           I finally open my eyes as he wiggles himself higher up the pillow so we’re level, which makes me smirk a little.  The height difference between us isn’t massive, but it’s enough that he has to stand on tiptoe to kiss me.  It’s why he takes advantage of the time we spend horizontal.

           He kisses my mouth, quick and warm.  “I’ve got something for you.”

           “Oh?”  What more could I possibly need right now?

           “Yeah.  Sit up.”

           I want to protest as he pulls away from me and the air between us goes cold in his absence, but I follow as he retrieves a small plate from the nightstand, the thing I heard him place there a moment ago. On the dish are two chocolate cupcakes with immaculately swirled icing, one blue, one yellow.  The frosting is so perfect that it has to be from the bakery downstairs.  Not that I mind, cupcakes are cupcakes.

           “Breakfast in bed, eh?” I smile as he pushes the plate towards me, sitting cross-legged on the covers.

           “Yeah, well, I would’ve made you a real breakfast in bed,” he blushes, “but after last time…”

           I drop a kiss on his nose.  “I prefer the kitchen fully functional, anyway.”

           He blushes harder, but he’s smiling down at his lap.  “Happy birthday, Baz.”

           I start.  I had completely forgotten that was today.  “How did you…”

           “Mordelia told me.”  He shakes his head at me.  “I can’t believe you weren’t going to say anything.”

           “It’s just another day,” I shrug.  No one in my family ever made a big deal about birthdays. It just wasn’t that important to us.

           “It’s your day, Baz,” he insists, starting to unwrap the blue cupcake.

           “Simon, there’s really no need to -”

           “Baz.  Every day you make me feel like the most special boy in the world.  It’s your turn to feel like that, alright?”

           He says it playfully, but my throat actually closes and I might even tear up a bit.

           It’s a moment before he glances away from his cupcake and back up at me, but I still haven’t spoken, my chest is too swollen. He sees my expression and smiles almost shyly.  “Alright?” he says again.

           “Thank you, Simon,” I manage.

           “Eat your cupcake.”

           I do.  It’s soft and still warm from the bakery.  He must have snuck downstairs as soon as they opened, still in his pyjamas. I wonder if he threw on a shirt to do it.  He’s not wearing one now.  There’s a smudge of blue on the corner of his mouth from the icing, and I hope there’s not yellow on mine.  “You know,” I venture, “you have my full permission to bring me cupcakes in bed whenever you feel like it.”

           “I’ll keep that in mind.”

           We lick the icing off our fingers and brush the chocolate crumbs from the bedspread.  “So, what are we doing today?” he asks, completely oblivious to the frosting on his mouth.  I can’t look away from it, and I purse my lips to keep from laughing.

           “I hadn’t thought about it.”

           “Well, it’s your day,” he muses.  “Is there anything you want to do?”

           I decide it’s time for some fun and shift closer to him until there’s only a breath between us.  “Absolutely,” I grin.

           He goes scarlet from his ears to his collarbone, catching my drift immediately.  I want to laugh at how easily I can fluster him but I really have no right to because just seeing his reaction is enough to have me blushing just as hard.  As if I’ve never teased him like this before.  As if we haven’t been in plenty of far more compromising positions than this.  Fucking pathetic.

           “Okay, well,” he stammers, “we can definitely pencil that in.”

           I bring a hand up to cup his face and his cheek is burning to the touch.  Not fever-burning, just blushing-like-a-cherry-burning.  “Simon,” I murmur.

           “Baz?”  His voice is smaller than I think I’ve ever heard it.

           When I lean in the rest of the way, he responds immediately, tangling a hand in my hair and scratching the back of my neck with the other, gently but not idly.  His mouth is hot as always and sweet with frosting, and I purposely focus my attentions on the spot of blue at the corner of his lips.  I’ve never cared much for chocolate but I can taste it on his mouth and right now I love chocolate, would eat it indefinitely and it could never be as good as this, as my hand on his waist and my name on his lips.

           He actually tries to pull me back to him when I break away a moment and an ecstasy later, even though he’s gasping for air and falling backwards against my hands like he’s lost his sense of direction, and Crowley, I want to follow him, to kiss him into the mattress until the sun goes down, to stay exactly like this until we fall asleep, only to wake up in the morning and start all over again, but I stay where I am.  “Simon,” I say again.

           “Yes?” he whispers, eyes still closed.

           “You’ve got frosting on your face.”

           His hand whips out of my hair and to his mouth, and he rolls his eyes when he finds the icing still there, despite my endeavors. “Really Baz,” he mutters as he wipes it away with the back of his hand, “you couldn’t have just said something?”

           “My way was more fun.”

           He grins and pushes me back until I’m propped up on my elbows.  “You know, you’ve got something on your face, too,” he breathes when he’s only an inch above my lips.

           “Do not.”

           “Do too.”

           “Prove it.”

           He shuts me up with his mouth.

           I never find out if he was lying or not, but I sure as hell don’t care.

lab partners | jungkook

summary: you’re not someone who likes group work, but jeon jungkook might be someone who’s going to change that. 
genre: fluff, high school!au, shy!kook 
word count: 2.426 

author’s note: nothing but high school teens bonding over discovering the anatomy of a dead frog. :) 

Originally posted by cuteguk

Group assignments are something that you despise wholeheartedly. Your luck seems to always be on the opposing side whenever teachers partner you up. It’s either you get someone who is incredibly slow and incompetent or someone who does nothing at all. Most of the time, it’s nothing but stressful and frustrating episodes on your part and even if you always manage to score a good grade in the end, it perplexes you that the efforts you put were always more compared to everyone else’s. Yes, you’re the type of person who prefers and is best at working alone. This might make you seem uncooperative, but you like to think that they’re the ones who are just hard to work with.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

can you do rfa + v & saeran react to a flat-chested mc? also i love your blog sm~ ^^

Thank you for the kind words, anon! It always makes me feel better to hear that people like my blog :)

I kept this request predominately SFW, but V has hints of NSFW (not enough to tag this as NSFW though) because of the big news. If it’s not his route, then I’m going to take the excuse that he deserves a ton of love! 

I hope you enjoy this request! And as always, ⭐my requests are open!⭐


·         When he saw you for the first time he didn’t even notice you had a flat chest, he could only stare into your eyes because that calmed his nerves. In fact, he didn’t even notice your chest until your third date, and that was only because you had decided to not wear a baggy sweater for a change.

·         To him, it isn’t a big deal, because it’s just another part of you – besides, there’s many other things he adores about you!

·         The size of your chest doesn’t matter, because so long as you don’t have a chest that’s as hard as a rock when he wants to hug you and rest his head on your chest, he’s super happy! He loves that your chest is squishy, yet he can still hear the sound of your heartbeat.

·         To be honest he probably has nightmares of being smothered by big boobs lol

·         If anyone at his uni says really rude things like “why are you dating a guy?? They can’t be a girl if they don’t have a chest!” he’ll get so mad that you have to drag him away from the assholes. He gets super passionate about defending you and thinks you don’t deserve horrible comments like that.

·         On days when you feel insecure and wish you had a bigger bust, he’s going to point out all the things that make you an awesome person. He isn’t going to leave you, and doesn’t want you to change yourself to please others!


·         Lets just remember the time Echo Girl tried to get him to fondle her DD breasts in this route like wtf

·         He finds out about your chest when he shows you the dress he wants you to wear at the RFA party. He’s confused when you act really uneasy about it, but when you explain that you can’t wear it because you don’t have the right figure, he sets about proving your assumption wrong.

·         “Who said you can’t wear it? I thought of you when I saw it

·         When you tried the dress on and showed him how you looked, he nearly fainted because of how amazing it looked on you. You were owning it! He was so proud that he could tell the world that you were his, wearing a dress that made you looked more beautiful than you already were.

·         He really doesn’t want you to feel insecure and think about changing your breast size just because the majority of his female co-workers are busty. You stood out to him because of how kind and humble you were, not because of the way you looked.

·         In his own words: “Don’t hate the body that I love, okay?”

·         In a way, he’s relieved that you have a small chest because it means most other men won’t look at you with lusty eyes and try to steal you from him.

·         It doesn’t change the fact that he finds it difficult to contain The Beast. The Beast isn’t just released by how your breasts look…


·         Admittedly, you felt insecure in comparison to her. She was beautiful; her hair was silky soft, her skin was supple, her figure was beautiful, and her damn boobs were incredible! You felt less than average in comparison to her.

·         You try everything to make your breasts seem bigger; buying a push-up bra, using cheap silicone cutlets, even stuffing your bra with balled-up socks.

·         When she finds out that you’re doing this, she tells you that you really don’t need to – after all, the size of your bust really doesn’t matter to her. She finds you attractive in many other ways.

·         Deep down, she thinks that you look better than her anyway, so she’s surprised to hear that you would think that.

·         She tells you aaalllll the disadvantages of having bigger boobs, and how she wishes she could have a smaller chest. Also, she hates all the unwanted attention from disgusting perverts.

·         She’ll also warn you that wearing the wrong bra size or stuffing a bra to the brim cannot only ruin your bra, but can also damage your breasts.

·         However, if you’re really insistent that you want to give the illusion of bigger breasts, she gives you tips – contouring your chest, wearing horizontal stripes, and having an upright posture.


·         He literally only notices it when Sarah points out your flat chest, ranting about how you’re so average when she sees you in the flat with Jumin. He notices that when she’s gone, you look upset. When you tell him that some of her words got to you, he tells you that you should ignore her because she was jealous and clutching at straws to try and make him leave you. And she failed.

·         He doesn’t like women who flaunt their bodies for his attention, especially when they make a huge deal about how big their breasts are. He likes you, because not only are you flaunting yourself, you also don’t draw attention to your chest. Also, Elizabeth 3rd approves, so what a bonus.

·         Tbh it was probably never his favourite part of a woman anyway. I think he would only see them as serving a biological purpose and just… really swollen fatty tissue. Because that’s what breasts are fundamentally.

·         If anyone says anything horrible about you, he’ll probably give them some harsh words and a death glare for having the audacity to comment on how you look. If they kept harassing and being horrible to you… he’ll be on the phone to his lawyer.

·         Sometimes you feel bad because even though he buys you gorgeous outfits, you feel like you can’t pull them off. He reminds you that you’ll look amazing in anything he buys you, because it’s you. However, he does note what your fashion preferences are and which parts of your body you’re more confident about so he can buy outfits which can show them off. Even if it’s something ridiculous like your rib cage, and imagine the poor tailor having to come up with something to satisfy his request…

·         If you really want breast enhancement surgery, he’ll pay for it for your happiness, but he reminds you that he loves you the way you are. He fell in love with YOU, not your tits.


·         He finds out some time after Saeran is beginning his recovery. Like one time you’re cooking and he gets really confident and sneaks up on you, then grabbing your boobs and scaring you. And then he’s really confused because they’re barely there. Is your sweater so baggy that it’s hiding them? Then he actually realises that they’re small lol.

·         He really isn’t going to care. You changed him for the better and pretty much saved his brother and the RFA, and you think he’s going to be pissed because of your chest? He’s probably more annoyed that you think he would be offended by something like that.

·         However, he totally understands how you feel, because he has insecurities about his body too. Yet he doesn’t want you to be insecure since he thinks you’re perfect!

·         He’ll remind you of everything he loves about you, highlighting that your breasts aren’t that significant to him.

·         He’s happy though because he can fit them comfortably in his hands, and when you find out you try not to throw the nearest object at him.

·         In your sleep, he probably draws a smiley face on your boobs, with 10/10 emblazoned on them. The 0s are represented by the nipples 😉

·         “Don’t change them, MC! They’re my breast friends!”



·         In all seriousness, he doesn’t care about the size. He finds that they just add to your beauty, even if they’re small! And it relieves him that he won’t accidentally brush against them or anything.

·         His favourite thing to do when you two are intimate is to shower them in kisses. He loves them so much, especially since they’re so soft and squishy.

·         If you feel insecure, he’s going to spend as long as possible pointing out everything he loves about you, and damn does it take a long time. He’ll worship your body when you two are intimate, making sure that you know how much he loves every other part of you, even your spleen.

·         He really wants to do a nude photo shoot, because he wants you to learn to love what he loves. And he’s not going to airbrush or add filters to the photos. He wants you to see you for who you are.

·         However, don’t think he’s totally innocent. He’s still really proud of the time when he said your shirt had braille on it and he ran a hand over your chest, feeling your nipples like braille. You have never been so flustered in your entire life.


·         I mean he’s been in a cult for nearly half his life, so he probably doesn’t care about breasts. He just sees you as the only one who truly understands him, and tbh he probably doesn’t care about your appearance either. It’s your kindness and personality that touches him.

·         Seriously, he has no idea of what cup sizes mean. If you tell him that you xA, he isn’t going to understand.

·         “____, isn’t that some sort of video quality setting…?”

·         Sometimes you get catcalled, and the catcallers always remark how you would be perfect if you had bigger boobs. When he hears them as he walks home with you from the ice cream parlour, he’s LIVID.

·         Like sure, mock him all you want for not looking manly enough or still being in an emo phase, but you? You did nothing to attract that attention and you sure as hell don’t deserve it! It takes all your energy to get him to calm down and leave them alone.

·         Whenever he feels stressed he has a habit of squeezing your breasts like a stress ball. They might be too small to fit in his hands, but it always makes him feel better and you damn horny.

·         You accepted him for all his flaws, so he’s amazed that you think he wouldn’t accept you because of your chest size. He just doesn’t get it.

categorize me; i defy every label


The second you touched down on the foreign soil, you were on guard. That Shadow thing had decided to drop you on the coast of a deserted beach, but why? You spun around, hugging your arms to your shivering body. You weren’t scared in the slightest. Confused, angry but not scared. Most of all you were pissed that the Shadow abducted you from your home and left you on this island to fend for yourself… not that home was much better though.

“And who might you be? This isn’t a place for a girl like you.” A voice sniggered.

You whipped around, met by green eyes and a smile. The smile wasn’t friendly though, it reminded you of a wolf’s snarl as it circled its prey; arrogant and dominant.

“Who am I? Who are you?” You looked around exasperatedly. “And where the hell am I?”

“Tone the attitude down, love. S'not very ladylike.”

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief, an insulted look crossing your features instantaneously. How did a stranger have the decency to tell you that you weren’t acting ladylike when you had just been stolen from your home and suddenly harassed by some random boy?

You narrowed your eyes, pushing past the boy. “If you won’t tell me where I am then I’m going to figure it out myself.”

You heard him laugh behind you. “You won’t get far without my help. This is my island and you won’t find anything unless I want you to.”

“Are you ready to bow down to submission yet?”

You snorted. “Bow down to submission? Do I look like a dog.”

The boy laid stretched out in a tree branch, one leg propped up and the other dangling from the branch. He watched you with an irritating smile, one you would like to smack off his face.

“I told you,” He tsked. “You won’t find anything —.”

“—Unless you want me to, yeah yeah. You’ve said that a few times now.”

Sitting down on a rock that had managed to rip its way through the Earth, you buried your face in your lap and wrapped your arms around your legs. You felt a body sit beside yours and with one peak you figured it was him.

“I know you’re upset my pet, but I can make it all better if you let me.” His accented voice was like a siren’s song, lovely, warm and inviting but as soon as you let yourself become taken by it, your life would be no more. You sighed.

“Can you at least tell me where I am.” You lifted your head to meet his playful gaze.

“I’ll give you a hint. You’re in the land where Lost Children go to be loved again.”

Your eyes squinted. Lost Boys? Lost Children? “Neverland…? That makes you Peter Pan?”

The boy smirked, one side of his mouth lifting higher than the other and indenting a dimple in his cheek. “Precisely.”

You tucked a piece of loose hair behind your ear before he stood up and held his hand out in front of you.

“Let’s go back to camp, it’s going to rain soon.” You purse your mouth and stood next to him, letting his open hand curl into an awkward first between you.

“I’ll just go my own way. When you say the word camp it reminds me of a summer camp where you sit around the fire and roast marshmallows. Not that that doesn’t sound wonderfully fun,” You say with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “But I’m not here to roast marshmallows and sing camp songs.”

Pan tensed his jaw, feeling his teeth grind against each other. With one usual snap of his fingers, Pan always got what he asked for but he oddly liked the defiance act you were putting on. He remembers how Wendy eventually became clay in his hands and she would bend over backwards at anything he said but… not you. Pan could only imagine how strong his ego will feel once he got you the buckle.

“My camp is no where near child’s play but if you really want to live by your own rules, then you have to prove your worthiness to me.”

“I don’t have to prove anything just because you lack to see it. S'not my problem.”

With lightning reflexes he had your jawbone gripped between his thumb and forefinger, the skin becoming hot and subtly numb under his aggressive touch. Anger immediately flood your senses and you tightly gripped his wrist as a warning.

“Prove to me that you can survive on my island without my help then. Show me,” He whispered, hissing the letters.

“…that you can and maybe I would look up to your so called worthiness. Until then you’re nothing but a literal lost girl to me.”

You took his wrist and flung his hand off of your face. “It’s not very gentlemen-like to man handle a woman, Peter Pan.”

The smirk reappeared onto his face and he paced himself a few steps away from you.

“Peter Pan never fails. Gain my respect by proving yourself.”

“You lost my respect by referring to yourself in third person.”

With that, you turned around and started your way blindly through the forest. You frankly didn’t care if you left Pan standing there. The fact that you were dumped on this island without your say makes it your island as much as it was his.

It had been a few days since you had seen that annoying boy and honestly, you weren’t doing that bad. You were able to find food and despite what Pan had said at the time, it had yet to rain. Neverland was beautiful, with fluorescent wild life and creatures you had only ever imagined in dreams. You were still asleep and the sun had yet to rise over the tops of the pines. The colors of the sky above you bled through each other like a painting, creating a dreamy glow throughout the air.

You groaned and rubbed your eyes, rubbing the sleep away from inside of them. The chilly air pinched at your cheeks and created goosebumps down your body, making you sigh. The sigh was stolen by a gasp as an arrow shot past you, missing the top of your shoulder by a hair’s length.

Your eyes whipped towards where it had came from, only to be met by nothing. You leaned backwards and retrieved the arrow, holding it in front of you as a weapon. Pan had never mentioned anything actually dangerous on Neverland, so what the hell was attacking you?

Another one slung past you but this time, missing you completely. You snorted and stood to pick it up. “Can whoever is shooting at me stop? Nice shots by the way.”

You didn’t miss the pain of the third one, flying swiftly and piercing your shin. Though it didn’t make it too far in, your knees buckled and you toppled down, blinking through the tears as you tried to rip the flimsy arrow out. Blood ran down the expanse of your ankle.

“Now this is a site. I didn’t even shoot that hard.”

You knew that voice, you hadn’t heard it in days. Pan. You gritted your teeth as he emerged from the bushes, dropping his bow to the dusty ground.

“Why would you shoot me?” You shrieked, hands shaking. Before Neverland you had never experienced pain like this, the worse being a scratched knee or a sprained wrist.

“I’m trying to get you to prove yourself. I’m tired of you moping around my island. It’s getting quite boring.”

With a shot of adrenaline, you sprang up and pushed Pan into the body of a tree, holding the wooden arrows horizontally against his neck. Pan only smirked in response, even daring to let his hands rest daintily on your waist before you elbowed them away.

“Do you always go around shooting new kids on your island, Pan? Do you think this is funny or something?” You pressed, tightening the arrows against his neck. The wound on your leg groaned as you stood on it but you couldn’t back down now.

“I didn’t even shoot you that hard, silly girl. And if you’re trying to scare me, all you’re doing is amusing me right now.”

“And you’re making me incredibly furious. I am this close to strangling you, I swear.”

“I don’t think you would.” He taunted, raising an eyebrow. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and glared at him, eventually releasing your hold and throwing the arrows onto the ground. No, you wouldn’t hurt this boy  despite him hurting you. You left Pan where he was and went to cut the flimsy material of your hand made tent off, wrapping it around your shin as a makeshift band aid.

“What?” Pan asked. “No slapping, no screaming, no girly fits that I won?”

“No. Unlike you, I wasn’t raised in a jungle where we get back at people by using more violence. Violence isn’t the answer.”

“I see.” Pan nodded, taking slow steps towards you. He kneeled next to you and gently moved your hands away from where they were tying the cloth together. You went to bark at him to move his hands away but his stare stopped you.

“At least let me heal it up. It’s the least I could do, you did prove your worthiness after all.”

You allowed him to use whatever Neverland magic he had within and heal up the bleeding arrow wound. Within seconds it was gone, no trace of pain or blood left behind after the stroke of his hand.

“Better now?“ Pan asked with a gentle voice. He looked almost… kind? Genuine? Concerned?

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Before he could stand back up you threw your balled up fist square into his jaw, making him stumble back for only a millisecond. Shock registered on his face and his hand flew up to where you had punched him.

“That’s for shooting a goddamn arrow at me. I don’t need to prove my worthiness to anyone.”

Though punching him probably hurt your knuckles worse than it hurt his jaw, you stood up and held your hand out.

“What?” You mocked, using his exact tone of voice from earlier. “No girly fits that I won?”

Pan laughed, a genuine boyish laugh and accepted your hand as you helped pull him upwards. You ran your hands down your dusty clothes and sighed.

“Let’s go to your camp. I haven’t eaten a real meal in hours, I’m starving.”

Since then, Pan had never decided to cross you again.

Defiance - Chapter 1

Chapter 1-

Originally posted by ksenoglosja

I never wanted to be apart of his circle, I never thought I would end up in this place with these people, but here I am.
Working with The Joker.

He wanted to rob a large bank and he had all the details planned out except he needed someone on the inside.
He needed me.

I knew one of his guards, Aaron, and he had told me that The Joker was looking for someone to help out but he would never ask for help and I knew that’s why Aaron came to me.
I didn’t go running to him though, I knew that would make me look weak. Instead I taunted him a bit, I showed up at his club frequently and danced for him on many occasions.
I worked here part time as a bartender in a tight corset, small shorts and heels but on my off nights I would make it a point to get anywhere near his line of eyesight.
I waited and waited until this night that I had my hands holding the couch behind him and hips grinding down in his.

“I know what you need.” I whispered in his ear as I rolled my hips harder.

“Mmm, yes you do doll.” He groaned in reply, his hands snaking up my body.

“No, I know what you need to finish the job.” I leaned back so I could look at him but I let my hands run down his chest.

He grabbed my hands and gave me a look that ordered me to stop, “Is that so? Well, what are you waiting for?” His grin starts to appear, “Tell me what I need to finish my own work.”

“Me.” I don’t hesitate in the answer, “I work there, you need me to cut the access to the silent alarm just before you get there and you need me to open up the safe in the back quickly and effortlessly.” I pull my hands from his grip and bite my bottom lip with a hint of a smile.

His smile disappears slowly though and I can tell he’s trying to keep his cool because he knows I’m right, he does need me and he hates being in a position where he needs someone.

“And what are you asking for in return?” He eyes me up and down raises what would be his eyebrows.

“A percentage, a small percentage and protection after.” I hold my hand out to shake his, not like I really expect him to keep his end of the deal.

He wraps his arm around my back and pulls me into him, I feel the cold tip of his gun pressed against my stomach. Our eyes meet and he has that smug grin on his face, his eyes gleaming and blue.

“How about I just let you live to see daylight again?” He whispers closely to my face.

I nod with a smirk and he’s caught off guard, he inhales as he was about to give a snide remark but instead he pulls me close and kisses me.
I don’t pull away, instead I press in.
After trying to win over, Mr. J as he likes to be called, I’ve grown to need his touch at night. His cool hands against my warm skin, his lustful gaze as he watched me dance and the occasional remarks about taking me home I wish so badly he would make a promise on.
I bite his lower lip and his gun disappears and his hands run against my thighs.

“Promise me this time?” I speak against his lips and kiss down his neck.

“Promise you what doll?” He groans as my lips travel down his neck and my hands down to the waist of his jeans.

“That you’ll take me home tonight.” I hold onto his face as I kiss him, “Make me scream your name.” I grind my hips on his, “Because you’ve been making threats about it and I haven’t slept since. Now, I know you’re not the kind of guy who doesn’t pull through with his threats.” I kiss him softly.

“Well, well, well…” he breathes out, “You don’t have to ask me twice.” He holds my hips in place and lifts me to my feet, “Frost! Car!” He yells out but keeps his eyes fixed on me.

He holds his arm out for me to link up with him, I accept. We begin walking into the active part of the club, glances are made and at first I think it might be because of the risqué outfit I have on but then I realize it’s the man leading the way. I glance up at him, his face neutral and a small snarl on his upper lip as we walk out the door. The car door is open and he allows me to go in first as he slides in next to me on the leather seats in the back of a stretch limo.
He’s on me once the door closes, his hand around my throat, his tongue in my mouth and his fingers pressing on the outside of my shorts.
I’d let him this time, I’ll let him get comfortable, after all he is a power house so I know I’m going to have to use a different kind of approach with him.
I run my hands through his hair and press my hips up against his hand and moan in his mouth and I let his tongue rule over mine.
His taste was distinct, unbreakable and full of lust.
His hand pressed in the sides of my neck and I moaned a little louder, he pulled his mouth from mine and my eyes opened to meet the dark hazed blue eyes that traveled up and down my body before opening the car door to let me out.

“This won’t be long baby, come on.” He cackles and walks up to the front of his mansion.

The house had an old time feel, it was definitely a mansion and I can only wonder what some of the rooms hold. It’s the kind of house you would walk past on Halloween but at any other time of the year you’d be curious to step inside.
As I met him at the front door I feel the touch of him at my lower back, a faint smile comes on my face but once I enter the house my mouth hangs open a bit.
It’s lavish, a five start hotel with light colored marble floors, a kitchen to the right and a large dark set of stairs to the left. In front of me was a living room that looks like it’s never been touched, a fire place lit and a large black leather couch in front of it. The decor is something you would find in a home with too much money, things that didn’t always go together but were set out to prove a point.
I took a few steps inside and got a better look at the pristine white kitchen and a hallway under the stair case, it was dark and I was too consumed by everything else to care right now.

“Let me show you where you’ll be staying.” The low growl enters my ear.

Before I move I look at him, my eyebrows raised and my eyes open wide, “Staying?” I put my hand out to his chest to stop him for walking past me.

Another growl from his throat, deeper, “Yes.” He grabs my wrists and pushes my hand away from his chest, “People saw you walk out with me, usually I wouldn’t care but you’ve got an important job lined up with me and I’m going to need to make sure that the work of art stays valuable.” His head slowly tilts as a grin appears on his face, his capped teeth in full show.

I let a small sigh out, not wanting to fuel his already lit fire. His hand pressed on my lower back to walk and I do, towards the stairs. They are solid and a dark brown with small gold flecks in the railing, as I look over towards the kitchen I see another hallway on the other side of it, I’m making mental notes of everything here because it’s just far too much to consume at once.
As we get upstairs it’s a full balcony that hangs over the living room, the house is a very open concept for someone so recluse.
There are three doors upstairs and he leads me towards the third one that is closest to the kitchen, he opens the door and it’s like a private suite. A large bed with a dark red comforter, an opening to a full bathroom with no doors and a large horizontal window that goes from one end of the wall to the other.

“But you won’t be staying here tonight doll.” His hand reaches around my waist as he turns me out of the room.

He palms himself as we walk and my mind flutters with what I could of done with that, but I’ll play along with what he’s used to for now. He walks us back to the door closest to the stairs and opens the door.
An even bigger bed, easily four people could fit in it, the blankets are tossed about exposing the black sheets with the non-contrasting dark purple comforter. The marble floors follow through the entire house, the lighting is dim and I smirk as the reflection of the mirror on the ceiling catches my eye. The furniture is dark to match the stairs, a long dresser against the wall next to the door and a small nightstand on what I’m guessing is his side of the bed.
He adds pressure to my back and I walk in, the bathroom has no doors and has just a shower that is about four feet long and probably three feet wide, it has three shower heads coming from the ceiling and I can only imagine why he would need a shower like that, I look past the shower and it’s another door which I assume to be the closet.
I’m thankful for the moment he let me take in the scenery but I feel his hands getting impatient as he pulls down on my bottoms, I move my hips with him to help get them off.

“So I’ve made a few broken promises to you huh?” As the bottoms fall to the ground as he walks around me like he’s stalking his prey, I raise my eyebrow at him as he comes back in front of me and I nod, “I’ll make it up to you tonight baby girl.” He purrs and I try to ignore the chill down my spine.

He reaches behind me and unsnaps my bra with ease and I smile, he’s had his practice. His fingers graze my skin as he slides the straps off my shoulders and his hands follow down my chest. He moves his hands to my waist and walks me back to sit on the edge of the bed, he grabs my chin and kisses me, I can feel his caps against my lips and it hurts but feels good, he tastes so good.
He pushes my shoulders back and I grin at him as he stands between my legs and lifts them both up to his shoulders, he rests them there while he pulls his jeans down just enough.
I have felt his bugle from dancing on him so I knew what I was getting into, but I also knew this was going to be a lot more than just grinding on him.
He spits in his hand and runs his hand over his length, the sight alone has me bite my lip. He spreads my legs a little further and spits again and I feel it land on my clit. I close my eye my head is pounding, I’m not used to this and I almost hate that I’m enjoying it.
He slides his cock between my spread folds, his spit mixing with how wet I am has me grabbing my hair at the top of my head.
He has his eyes on what he’s doing, watching him rub himself over my clit and back down, he presses his tip inside me and he snarls.
I give him a look with my eyes wide thinking I did something wrong.

“You’re tight.” He growls and shoves his cock in me.

I scream out, my back lifting off the bed, my hands gripping the bed sheets above my head. He holds himself there, his head rolls back and he purrs and his thumb runs circles against my clit.

“Relax.” His voice is demanding and low as his eyes work up my body till he meets mine.

I take in a staggered breath and let it out, my back slowly settles and my thighs shake from him on my clit. He notices and moves his hands to my knees as he holds my legs against him. He finally moves and my breathing pick up again, his motions are quick as he slides in and out of me, my body bouncing against his every thrust. I grab onto my breast and massage over them, letting my fingers graze my nipples and he groans, I give him a smile as a loud moan escapes me.

“That’s it baby girl.” He growls and pushes my legs towards me and slams into me harder and faster.

The bed shakes beneath me and my moans are screams of pleasure as I feel him press deep inside me, I’m tightening up around him involuntary, my nails are digging into my own thighs as I hold them.
The room is filled with the smell of sex, lust and power. I can hear him groan, grunt, and give me an occasional snarl.
My back arches when he does that and he’s drawing me closer to my climax.

“Fuck!” I cry out, my hand cover my face as I clench around him and come, my stomach spasms with each hit of my orgasm.

He doesn’t stop, but I feel him throbbing and I know he’s close as each wave hits I tighten around him and he smacks my ass once as he pulls out and lets my legs fall.
He strokes himself a few times just letting himself spill out on my stomach.
I let out a laugh, knowing how I would of handled the situation, how I would of handled him.
Thinking of having The Joker under me, under my heels send a visible chill over my body and I moan once more.

“There’s more of that baby, whenever you’d like.” He pushes his hands under my back and under my thighs and lifts me up and surprisingly gently puts me down on the other side of the bed.

The thought of him doing this again definitely doesn’t sound bad and I’m kicking myself for it. He’s good, but I won’t let him get too far without me breaking him.

“I need to use the bathroom.” I sluggishly pull myself up and put my feet on the floor, my heels are still on and I laugh a bit.

“There’s a door across from the shower.” He glances over to me as I bend over and take my shoes off.

The cold marble feels good on my feet and I curl my toes and stretch my back as I stand, I look over at him as I feel his eyes on me but his face is straight. I can’t read him but I’m not really trying.
I walk past the bed and into the open bathroom, I close the door where the toilet is hidden and go pee.
I run my hands down my face, not completely realizing what I’m getting myself into.
The bank thing I was ready for, this though, this living here until then is not what I had planned and I was going to get Aaron for even getting me into this mess.
I finish and walk out to one of the two sinks and wash my hands, I splash the water on my face trying to get rid of some of the black makeup under my eyes. I grab the rag off the counter and wipe my face.

“I used the rag on the counter, I hope you don’t mind.” I come walking back in the bedroom and sit back on the edge of the bed.

I hear him move and I take a deep breath, his arms wrap around my waist and he slowly pulls me back into bed. I oblige and pull the blankets over me and turn my back to him.
I hate sleeping with men, I hate sleeping period. I swallow hard as I feel his arms wrap around me but I push him back.

“I, I don’t do this.” I get up and get out of the bed and almost run across the hall naked into the room that’s claimed mine for now.

I know he’s more than capable of breaking down this door and killing me but I’m not worried about that, I’m not worried about him I hear him growl as he gets up and slams the door but it doesn’t bother me, I have my own demons to worry about.

I'm Busy Mending Pieces Of The Life I Had Before

Warnings: Constant mentions of depression, suicide and self-harm, and use of a common phan song in a slightly unconventional way which idk if works but ayy. Oh and Dan is a carrier, so mentions of m-preg.

A/N: I literally had no idea what c-section scars looked like so I actually looked them up (not expecting to get any results) and wow people actually share pictures of those scars for other mums to see what the fuck even is the internet man. For the phanfic weekly challenge.

Phil hates saying it, but he knows they never should have had the kid.

They never should have gone through with it. And it breaks his heart to even contemplate that thought, but the way that Dan visibly flinches when Phil even suggests that Dan hold their son for just a moment tells him that having this child was probably the worst decision of their life.

Keep reading

Neal and Animals Would Include...
  • Dogs

            Neal Caffrey loved dogs and you supposed you honestly weren’t surprised. He reminded you of a dog in a lot of favorable ways – loyal, friendly, happy, and energetic. He made friends with dogs that came sniffing up to him in the street, played happily with Satchmo whenever he saw the Burkes’ pet, and was a very polite and fun tenant of June’s dog, Bugsy. If you had to guess whether Neal was a dog or a cat person, you definitely would’ve guessed on the side of dogs from the get-go.

            And yet, you’d also never had him pegged as impractical. Impulsive, yes, but impractical? Neal often made impulsive decisions because they seemed the most practical at the time. That’s why you were so surprised that you were now going on a walk with him in Central Park alongside a purebred husky pup with big paws.

            “So you just… volunteered?”

            “It’s a good offer,” Neal defended his choice. One of June’s friends needed a dog sitter while she went out of down, and even though it would be hard for him to care for a pet while working long days at the bureau and simultaneously not being able to go to the pet store out of his radius for quality dog food, he had eagerly proposed his services.

            “You’re not even being paid,” you pointed out exasperatedly.

            “Sure I am!” He optimistically countered. “In the priceless medium of building connections and making a stronger place for myself in June’s community.”

            “You just wanted an excuse to have a dog for a while.”

            Your accusation was met with a sheepish, but not at all ashamed, smile from Neal. The blue-eyed man shrugged haplessly and the husky pulled on its leash.


  • Cats

            You knocked on Neal’s door pretty loudly, just in case he had his earbuds in and was painting or something. Luckily, you had never walked in on anything awkward, but you had learned that Neal didn’t always hear when you just called through the door.

            He answered quickly and was fully dressed, no art supplies anywhere in sight. You held up a to-go bag with his usual lunch order from the deli, but Neal was already urging you inside, beckoning with his hand and grinning widely. He closed the door behind you swiftly like he was afraid something was going to get in or out.

            “Neal, what are you-?”

            “Sh!” He interrupted you with the same huge smile. It was honestly pretty adorable – he was usually so controlled and charismatic that you didn’t often get these genuine beams. “She’s sleeping!” His own voice was a stage-whisper.

            “She?” You repeated, indulging him and lowering your voice. You couldn’t think of anyone who Neal would have sleeping in his penthouse, except for maybe June (the landlady) or Mozzie (who wasn’t using female pronouns, last time you checked). As you thought about it, you frowned. Maybe he has someone over. Neal was easily one of the most flirtatious men you’d ever met.

            Neal put a hand on your lower back and guided you over towards the sofa, where he leaned over the back to look down on the cushions. His expression melted like ice cream in Australia and he reached down to very gently touch something.

            You looked away from him and down. There, curled up inside his upside-down fedora, was a tiny little ball of fuzzy, fine fur. Neal let his fingertips play over the soft kitten’s neck while its ears twitched jumpily, but it stayed asleep.

            You really weren’t sure what to make of the scene. Where did Neal get a cat? Why was she in his hat to begin with? Why was he letting her stay in his hat? How did he plan to feed her? Was he going to keep her? Why weren’t you petting the small fluffy animal right this instant?!

            Without questioning the situation much more, you reached over and dipped your hand into the hat to feel the kitten’s fur. She was a soft orange tabby with pale white spots on her head and tail.

            “Hey, Neal.”


            “I guess you could say the kitten is the cat in the hat.”

            “Do you want to leave?”


  • Ferrets

            Seeing Neal play with a ferret made you feel like something was fundamentally wrong with the universe. A ferret climbing up his arm, and he wasn’t swatting it off? Sure, ferrets weren’t exactly sewer rats, but still. You knew Neal liked domestic animals, but you hadn’t realized that extended very far past June’s pet pug and Peter’s yellow lab.

            “It’s on your shoulder,” you pointed out, unable to concentrate. It kept moving. It had tiny little claws that you couldn’t imagine felt good, but Neal had taken off his suit jacket specifically so he could play with the ferret.

            Neal hummed agreement. The ferret’s head swiveled towards you, small eyes seeming both beadily intimidating and playfully mischievous at the same time. Its adorable pink nose twitched.

            You put your pen down. The crime victim you were interviewing had accidentally released the ferret from its cage while trying to give it more water, and Neal had been first to catch it. Since then, he and the animal had apparently become best friends. The victim had shrugged and gone to get her receipt book to prove her alibi, leaving you alone with him and a free-roaming rodent.

            “Why are you letting it on your shoulder?” You objected. You would let it on your shoulder, but Neal didn’t strike you as the type who loved animals enough to let them crawl on his nice shirts.

            “Ferrets are actually pretty clean animals,” Neal pointed out, holding his arm out horizontally and bending his elbow. The ferret squeaked and raced down his arm to his wrist, where it paused before tentatively sniffing again and placing a dainty little limb on the back of Neal’s hand. “Especially when they’re healthy and taken care of. And this little guy is.” It squeaked again at the perfectly uncanny time and Neal smiled.

            The artist moved his other arm under the first. It slowly moved its front half over the curve of his arm and down towards the other. While doing so, it stretched out to a fuller length. You leaned back, shocked – it reminded you of an accordion.


  • Foxes

            Strangely, you were starting to get used to this.

            “Stop feeding it,” you complained, on a stakeout mission with the thief. “It’ll never go away if you don’t stop.”

            “Maybe I don’t want it to go away.” Neal retorted defensively, ripping off another small piece of croissant and tossing it towards the ground right outside his slightly-open car door. The little fox outside skittered towards it happily and ate it right up, just like it had been doing. Neal tore off another piece of croissant. “This is better than watching that house.”

            “I’ve already told you, we’re here because of a tip, not because of anything concrete. I’m not exactly having fun, either!”

            “Well, that’s too bad, because I’m enjoying myself.” Neal sounded imperious, but he sent you a wink while ripping off a small third part of his pastry. “It helps when you make friends with the locals.”

            “Stop calling the fox a local like it’s an actual person!”

            Neal appeared wounded and held a hand over his heard. “Don’t you get it? The foxes have to stick together.”

            As he compared himself to the animal, you snorted and rolled your eyes. “So you’re playing with the wildlife because you wanted an excuse to call yourself foxy and hot?”

            His big blue eyes went wide. You knew it was an act, but you also knew you’d fallen right into a trap, and so you groaned into your hand. Neal tossed another piece of croissant to the lone red fox while teasing you. “I was referring to the association of being clever, cunning, and up to no good. You think I’m hot, Y/N?”


  • Wolves

            Animal smuggling wasn’t a white-collar crime, but it was part of your latest case. You’d thought that the valuable cargo being shipped in from Greenland was actually counterfeit money, but once you’d actually intercepted the shipment and arrested your bad guys, you found something very unexpected: when the top of the crate was pried up, there was a wolf.

            An actual, living, breathing wolf, about the height of Satchmo but longer and slimmer, had been smuggled as an exotic pet from Greenland. Its specific species was yet to be determined, but its fur was thick and white and you thought its face looked a little longer than most wolves you saw in the zoo.

            Neal, for once, showed the proper wariness of a strange animal, but he kept looking at it curiously. You did, too. There was a huge difference between homeless vermin like foxes on the street and an actual, captive wolf. You were fascinated and thought the wolf was beautiful, and it looked so soft. After several minutes, Neal pointedly glanced at you and then back to the crate.

            “Okay,” you relented without actually waiting for him to say or do something. “Come on. But we move slowly, and pull our hands back if he acts like he’s getting aggressive.”

            Neal grinned sneakily like he was getting away with something and excitedly came with you towards the shipping crate. “Just a couple minutes.”

            “Yeah, yeah.” Still, you kept watch to warn him when he was about to be scolded. Neal offered his hand first, and the wolf sniffed at his knuckles. The wolf couldn’t care less about Neal after that, and the conman took that as his invitation to start petting.

             Once Neal’s hand had been un-attacked for several seconds, you put yours in, too, first offering for the wolf to smell your closed fist. Its dry, rough nose bumped at the side of your thumb, then, like with Neal, it was done dealing with you. You slipped your hand into the fur on top of its head and cautiously scratched, wondering at how it felt. You expected it to be soft – in actuality, it was warm, but rough and coarse.

            “I’m petting a wolf,” you said aloud, surprised. Neal grinned at you, and you declared, “Are you sure you’re supposed to be a conman? Because I’m thinking you’d be pretty happy working at a wildlife center.”

            “Nah,” Neal dismissed quickly, smiling as the wolf sort of noncommittally leaned its head toward his hand. “Too dirty. This way I get to do all the playing and none of the cleaning and maintenance.”

Send in requests!

Sick of Staying Away

Just some light exes angst on this fine day


Clarke: Where do you keep my thermometer?

Bellamy scrubs a hand over his face. It’s his day off from both the bar and classes, and it has been shaping up to be a pretty good one. He actually got to work out for once, ran some errands that have desperately needed to be run, and now he’s on the couch catching up on one of his shows he doesn’t have time for.

Of course today would be the day his ex-girlfriend, whom he hasn’t heard from at all in the months since she broke up with him, decides to reach out.

Bellamy: Did you check the closet in the bathroom? If it’s not there idk where it is.

Clarke: Maybe I can get Maya to bring me one home from the hospital.

Bellamy: Encouraging your roommate to commit misdemeanors for you. Nice.

Clarke: Thanks anyways.

And then, a few moments later.

Clarke: Sorry to bother you.

He stares at the texts for a while, torn. Part of him– a bigger part than he’s really comfortable with– is worried about her. Clarke always prided herself on her immune system of steel. She never takes days off for her health, even if she ought to. That she’s home in the middle of the day on a Wednesday instead of at work is troubling.

He also knows what she’s like when she is sick. She gets grumpier and more belligerent and feels like she has to prove (to whom, he isn’t sure) exactly how fine she is. She’ll take on way too much and not only slow down the healing process but probably not stop until she passes out on the nearest horizontal surface.

Bellamy makes himself finish the episode he’s on before he gets up and puts his shoes on. It doesn’t have to mean anything, okay? But he’d made his favorite brothy, spicy soup earlier in the week, the one he knows she loves when her nose is stuffed up, and he sincerely doubts she’s eaten anything today. He’ll bring her some, make sure she’s not out cold somewhere that will screw up her back, and then he’ll be able to get on with his day.

Keep reading

Try and Stop Me

AH AU Klaroline fic. Chapter 1/3. Also on A03 (x)

Inspired by the Tumblr story: ‘I’ve seen this guy every day for two weeks and he always beats me to the lights. This morning I was in front of him and he literally jogged to get in front of me, turned and said “I’ve been winning for two weeks, can’t stop now. Have a good day, I’ll see you tomorrow’ - TOMORROW I’M WEARING RUNNING SHOES”

This may be Caroline’s competitive side speaking but there’s no way she’s going to lose on her morning fucking commute.

Elena and Bonnie just don’t understand. This isn’t just some random member of the general public making a nuisance of himself. This is war.

Every day on her way to work, Caroline sees the same faces that she always has for the past two years, since she started working for The New York Times. People who get on or off at the same subway stops she does, or buy coffee at the same vendor on Eighth Avenue just before she enters the lobby. There’s Louboutin Lady, who has an array of the to-die-for-shoes, the beautiful Ballet Dancer who gets off three stops before Caroline does and the Coffee Traitor, who works at Starbucks but always has a Dunkin Donuts cup.

Then there’s him.

Up until today he’s just been another New York commuter in the great city’s rich landscape. She’s never been able to come up with a name for him because there’s no stable characteristic. Sometimes he’s on the phone or has a folder under one arm. Once she saw him with a load of Fifth Avenue bags telling his friend that he loved his sister but he’d cut up all her credit cards if it got her to leave town. So at least he’s a family man. He’s damn good looking too; toned muscles, tight blonde curls and blue eyes. He’s just a little taller than her, with long legs which are always encased in dark wash designer jeans. She’s often got tickets to New York’s Fashion Week, she knows these things.

Carrie Bradshaw eat your heart out.

But anyway. It’s the long legs that Caroline blames. It’s why he’s been in front of her every morning for the past two years and its always why Caroline’s determined to win. He joins the sea of people headed to Eighth Avenue a little ahead of her, but Caroline due to her shorter stature and trying to push past tourists walking at a glacial pace in high heels is always three steps behind him. Meaning she gets stopped by the lights and he doesn’t.

But this morning something must have disrupted him because as she’s walking along having already counted off Louboutin Lady, Ballet Dancer and Coffee Traitor, the blonde speed walker is nowhere in sight. She’d looked left and right and hadn’t been able to see him. It was only when she’d felt someone whiz past her that she’d noticed the familiar blonde curls and leather jacket beside her left elbow.

The bastard had actually ran to get in front of her. Once he was a few paces in front he’d turned and stopped. She can still remember him clear as day winking at her and saying “I’ve been winning for two years, can’t stop now Sweetheart. Have a good day, see you same time tomorrow” before jogging off again.

So. War.

As she recounts this to the girls, who are lying around the living room in various states of exhaustion, she waits for their strategic advice. Elena, who is entirely horizontal on one of the sofas, her feet resting in her elder sister’s lap is the first to speak.

“Care, I think you might be overreacting”

Caroline glares at her in response. Honestly she doesn’t know what she was expecting. Elena was always the peacemaker ever since they were babies. She always feels bad but Kat’s nickname of ‘Saint Elena’ does make her giggle, even if she always does leap to Elena’s defence. And, in fairness, Elena has just finished her rotation for the day in the ER, so Caroline can’t expect her to be at full fighting fitness. Instead she turns to Kat, who miraculously has stopped texting for once. In the city that never sleeps, Elena’s big sister makes full use of every avenue. She sleeps with her phone, although from all the A list parties she gets invited to, and the parade of guys she’s brought home at 5am, none of them are actually sure Katherine ever does sleep.

“Is he good looking?”

Elena snorts at Katherine’s priorities and gets her toes pinched in reaction. Before the Petrova sisters can completely ruin the evening by descending into their trademark bickering, Bonnie intercedes thank God.

“I think what we’re all interested to know is, why are you reacting so strongly to what was obviously just some jackass being cocky on his way to work? If you see him tomorrow just ignore him”

Caroline looks around at the three girls who have known her for her entire life. Have gotten her through every grade at school, every break-up, her parents messy divorce, even that whole thing with Tyler last fall. She should have called Enzo, she thinks petulantly.

“Because Bonnie, the guy has never spoken to me in two years but he’s noticed me. He initiated a challenge. No strike that, the guy has been beating me at a challenge I didn’t even know I was part of. I didn’t win Travel Journalist of the Year for the last three years straight by being some push over”

Caroline sits down once more, feeling her point adequately made. Taking a hearty sip of her vodka and lemonade she mentally reviews her wardrobe, mapping out an outfit she can wear that will work with her trainers and a pair of actual work shoes she can change into in the ladies restrooms at work.


Enzo [8.40 am]: Slow and Steady Gorgeous J xx

Caroline knows Enzo’s being sarcastic but she can’t help but appreciate the text all the same. She’d called him last night to ask his opinion. Given that it was all harmless really and she wasn’t about to take up her best friend’s offer of getting her laid to relieve the evident tension she must be feeling (the asshole was lucky he was in Chicago with his band so she couldn’t physically punch him) he’d been more supportive than the girls.

Gorgeous [8.41am]: Already on the starting blocks coach xx

Gorgeous [8.42am]: Now stop distracting me. I can see Luscious in Leather now xx

Enzo [8.43am]: Luscious in Leather?! Are you sure you don’t want to shag this guy?! Xx


Gorgeous [8.44am]: XX

Tucking her phone back into her bag, Caroline picks up the pace, jogging along the two blocks it normally takes her after the subway to spot Blonde and British. Sure enough, she sees him swanning along at his regular pace. He’s just about to hit the street lights so Caroline puts a spurt of speed on and dashes past him. For a minute she thinks it’s a wasted effort beyond her own satisfaction (which is important but it isn’t enough. She needs this guy to know he’s been beaten) and that he hasn’t seen her.

That is until Caroline hears a roar of laughter down the street and the sound of rapid footfalls coming closer.

“Wait! Wait love!” Caroline turns – the runner’s cardinal sin – and spots her intended victim dashing after her. There are several commuters staring at them in mild interest over the outburst from the typical quiet shuffling of a morning. As much as she’s enjoying proving him wrong, she does hope she hasn’t started something she’ll have to continue doing for the foreseeable future. Hell please say she doesn’t have to jog to work every morning from now on. Elena must never know or there’ll be no living with her after this.

The guy practically blurs past her she stops so abruptly. Ducking his head with an embarrassed smile, he wheels round and trots back over until they’re standing face to face.


Keep reading

High Stakes

Here’s a request I wrote for @dragonbound135 First time writing Elide and Lorcan and I have to say that I enjoyed it! Anyhow, if you want to make a request, just contact me in anyway from the prompt list I have on my blog or by asks/messenger thingy. 

Title: High Stakes

Characters: Elide and Lorcan

Summary: Elide asks Lorcan to teach her how to play chess. Lorcan is hesitant, but after being taunted agrees. However, what happens when a bet is made between the two?

“Teach me how to play?”

Lorcan’s onyx-colored eyes shifted up from the polished marble chessboard to the person standing on the other end. Elide’s matching-colored eyes stared back, curiosity swirling within them as she glanced down to the array of black and white pieces positioned on the chessboard. She carefully analyzed each and every piece, glancing from square to square.

Keep reading

Danny Phantom: Dani’s Return

Essentially, another short (2K) snippet, just because I can.

“Can you get that, sweetie?”

Danny, who had just gotten to the top of the stairs, groaned and turned around to answer the door. He’d spend an exhausting day chasing around Cujo (to no avail) and trying not to fail his classes or get the entire school destroyed. Sam and Tucker had even cancelled their plans so he could get some shuteye, meaning he was home before supper. For once.

And still, no peace.

The knock came again, followed by a heavier thud. Danny hoped that didn’t mean it was a delivery, although if it was, maybe he could blast whatever it was to smithereens before his parents realized that particular gear or whatever it was they needed for their newest weapon had already arrived.. “Coming!” He heard a few all-too-familiar yelps and was suddenly really glad his mom had asked him to get the door. He shot a quick look into the kitchen, but from what he could see, Maddie was leaning over something on the counter which may or may not be alive, so she should be suitably busy while he dealt with Cujo.


Although walls—even the ones in his house—hadn’t stopped Cujo from practically bowling him over before.

Danny opened the door, and then he realized what he’d heard. Eyes wide, he dropped into a crouch. “Dani?”

Cujo stood over her, whimpering. She looked about as good as she had when she’d been destabilizing, and he hoped this wasn’t some sort of relapse. “Hey, cuz,” she said weakly. She tried to smile, but he wasn’t buying it. Black strands of hair stuck to flushed skin, and her clothes were pretty much soaked through. It looked like she’d been dropped into a swimming pool, but more likely, Cujo had carried her here and she was covered in dog slobber. More worryingly, she was still covered in dog slobber. He turned her intangible to get it off before putting an arm around her and helping her to her feet.

“Dani, what happened?” he whispered, resisting the urge to throw another glance over his shoulder. His mom wasn’t likely to notice anything was amiss yet, but….

“S’nothing. Jus’…jus’ comin’ to visit.”

“You’re burning up!”

Keep reading

System Failure - simulator/gaming!au

[quick thanks to @lunariaabyss for letting me use this prompt and quick thanks to @elfinloser for helping me with some details. Love you guys! and you all should check out their writings too :)]

Description: You are stuck in a game. No one can get in, and you have to figure a way to get out. There are many dangers you will encounter, but can you do it alone?

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: none (for this chapter)

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

Part one:

“This game is enduring problems. Anyone still in the game, will have to get out and anyone not playing won’t get in. We cannot help you get out, it is far beyond our reach. Good luck.”

You covered your ears as the voice of the lady repeated over and over. Her voice becoming the only thing you heard, reiterating in your head as any other noise drowned out.

You got down on your knees and covered your head, much like what you would do for a hurricane or tornado situation. You screamed. It wasn’t just one of those one time things; it was one of those screams from your lungs where you could feel it through your whole body. You uncurled yourself from the position you were in and continued letting out your anger over the lady speaking.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I COULD DIE IN HERE! LIKE, FOR REAL,” you shouted a string of profanities at the sky until you got light-headed, and your throat hurt from yelling so much. Your anger was all gone, but then came the sadness. Your shouts got more silent and tears streamed down your face.

“Why do I have to be stuck here? I don’t even know if anyone else is stuck in this stupid game,” you fell to the ground again. Sobs racked through your lungs, and your body was lurching with every wretched snivel came out of your mouth. Mumbling quiet questions to no one in particular, you feel asleep on the ground.

Keep reading

(hold me close) ‘til the night turns gray

Or, how ebf thinks the Kabby accidental honeymoon might have started. And also the scar-kink fic I threatened @shefollowedfires and @marcuskanc with. Set between 4x01 and 4x02, and obviously here be smut // NSFW stuff. Title from “Hold Me Close” by Overcoats.

For the third night in a row, Abby slips into the spacious room Marcus has claimed as home while they’re in the tower, medical bag in hand. She knows damned well  that he’s a competent grown man and could change the bandages around his wrists easily enough, but she’s desperate for reasons to be alone with him and this one looks respectable enough on paper. She’s not sure which of his other traits will define him on Earth, but his tendency for weird injuries is growing a reputation and Abby sees no harm in using that to her advantage.

No harm, either, in a few lingering kisses before she leaves and wanders back to her own bedroom down the hall. But no more than that either.

Keep reading