he looks at her like this always

Diplomacy

Woo! Another fic! I’m on fire! I’ve been playing around with the idea of this for ages and it finally- finally- turned into a fic. Woot woot! Huge huge huge thanks to @archaicsextoy for proof reading this like a boss. Like seriously, go follow her.

Summary: Lance knew diplomacy was hard. He didn’t know it involved poison and traps. 

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From Enemies to Lovers Pt:5

Kim Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Angst

Format: Text Post

[Pt:1] [Pt:2] [Pt:3] [Pt:4] [Pt:5]


Originally posted by bwiseoks

They all stared at me as if to say I’m crazy.

“Hyung what are you talking about?” Hoseok was clearly confused.

“Like I said-”

“No I heard what you said, we all did.”

“Don’t cut me off.” I say sternly.

“When did you hear this?” Namjoon asked, his eyebrows were furrowed as if he was trying his hardest to think of something.

“Right at the start of your friendship. You know that time when I thought I loved her and was always too shy to freaking talk and go near her?”

“Before she moved away?” Yoongi asked, also with his eyebrows furrowed. Was this a new look or what?

“Yes, I don’t have the time and date if you’re curious about that.” I say rolling my eyes at them.

“Hyung you got it all wrong. You messed up so bad.”  Namjoon didn’t know whether to mad or laugh. “You fucked up, you’ve hated her this whole entire time for no reason.” 

“Namjoon what are you talking about?”

“Did you by any chance hear Y/N say. ‘You think I’d be friends with those idiots? You’re joking right? I don’t even like them, I’m just using them fora bit of popularity before I make it in the industry.’“

“What the hell Namjoon you knew and you’re still friends with her?! Are you stupid? You’re all being used!” I shouted at him like a lunatic.

“Hyung I hate to burst your bubble but you’re idiot here.” Namjoon continued to speak, all the members looked just as confused as I did aside from Yoongi.

“Excuse me?” I say, obviously taken aback that he had called me an idiot.

“Hyung, do you even know what Y/N aspires to be?” Yoongi asked me.

“How the hell would I know that I’m not friends with her remember?”

“Exactly, because you never got the chance to know her properly, you never got to know that she’s training to be an actress. You never knew that she was rehearsing lines with Namjoon that evening when you walked passed and heard her say what she did. Those things you thought were about us? Those were her lines for an audition, that quite frankly you ruined for her because you made her cry so much the night before she got sick and couldn’t even go to the audition.” Yoongi said so calmly it sent shivers down my spine.

“What?” I say barely even a whisper.

“You heard me hyung.” With that every single one of them that remained in the living room, left me. Left me standing there with my jaw hanging. 

I fucked up.


Request for 6~

You know, I think about it a lot and I still maintain my favourite stephew moment, out of hundreds of cute looks and flirty words and touching and smiling, is still the fnaf dating stream (at 37:45) when Stephanie said that pickup line and Matt jumped on her.

(U know what reblog and add your favourite stephew moment!)

The Pull - A Nessian Fic(let?)

This is just something that I wrote instead of sleeping.
—•—•—•—

“How many times must I tell you?!”
Cassian did not answer for one, simple reason: confusion. Standing in the doorway to Nesta’s room, watching her scowl and grumpily remove herself from the bed to stalk toward him, and waiting for her to come up for training always left his blood singing that had nothing at all to do with the lack of support and short length of Nesta’s nightgowns. He did not know what Nesta had told him too many times, or rather, he didn’t know what of many things he’d been ignoring that she was now referring to.
Cassian had been told numerous times that minute to get out of her room. Cassian had been told numerous times that week to stop looking at her like that. Cassian had been told numerous times that month that she wouldn’t be training with him—ever. Luckily for him, Nesta wasn’t the Seer.
He grinned down at Nesta as she tried to shove him out, flaring his wings slightly but otherwise remaining entirely immobile. Red light filtered through his wings, making her eyes seem to dance with molten fire.
How could anyone be so beautiful?
She touched his chest gently with one hand, looking up at him with parted lips and fluttering eyelashes.
He caught her knee inches before it collided with his nether regions.
“You’re getting predictable,” he breathed, casually reaching out with his not occupied hand to pull a rogue strand of hair behind her delicately pointed ear. He wanted to sink his teeth into that ear. Desperately.
He did not have the foresight or time to muffle his moan as Nesta reached out to touch his wing with light fingertips. He coughed out a curse and released her hair to grab her arm, warily keeping a hand to block any further attacks from her knees. She was getting better at distracting him long enough to be dangerous to him, and he really didn’t appreciate it. (Or the fact that it kept working.)
“No one ever taught you ‘look, don’t touch?’” Cassian asked. Nesta pulled her eyes away from the places she’d touched. Faint scars. Cassian didn’t care. It proved he survived. And gave Nesta an excuse to touch him.
She glanced down, “Feyre was right. You are sensitive little pricks.”
“Nothing little about it,” Cassian winked, risking release of her hand to brace himself on the upper part of the door frame, leaning closer to her. Nesta scowled at him. Cassian scented the shift in her as blood rushed to her cheeks. He didn’t need Nesta’s body though. He needed her and damn it if she wasn’t more stubborn than his High Lady.
“If you’re here to drag me up for more training, you may as well go jump off a cliff,” Nesta turned and returned to the safety of her room. Cassian followed, brushing past her to open the thick curtains she kept over the windows. The door creaked slightly, closing slightly on a phantom wind *cough* it’s Feyre *cough*.
“More? You haven’t had any,” Cassian said, unable to keep the cross tone from his voice.
“What of it? I’m still alive,” Nesta challenged, raising an eyebrow at him. Cassian felt that surge he’d talked to Rhys about hit him harder than it had since Hybern’s death. He decided to ignore it, as always.
“Luck will not carry you-”
“I’m Fae now, it’s not like falling down the stairs might kill me-”
“Did I call you fragile?”
“You’re an ass,” she made a rude gesture that he wouldn’t be surprised had passed from Rhys to Lucien to Elain to Feyre to her. He knew it as a predominantly Illyrian one, but he’d seen Lucien throw it before (mostly to him).
“If you’re to be our Emissary, you need to able to defend yourself.”
“I already am your Emissary, Cass,” she said, her voice softening just slightly. It was a gentle reminder of the trip she’d be embarking on in just a few weeks.
A trip Cassian would not be party to.
“And considering Feyre was too busy enjoying Rhys to do her job very well, I’d say I’m the best you’ll ever have,” Cassian growled slightly at her words. Nesta waved her hand, “I’m sure her duties including a variety of activities that didn’t involve Rhys in her bed-”
“Nesta,” Cassian groaned, pulling a hand through his hair. “Please. Please, let me teach you how to defend yourself.”
He tried not to look scared or pleased as she approached him swiftly, standing up on her toes so her eyes weren’t level with his chin for once. She rested an arm on his shoulder for balance. He ached to hook an arm around her waist, to hoist her up against him and spin and kiss her until the were both dizzy-
Cassian reminded himself that he was a warrior who was capable of killing many many people very quickly.
Then he looked into her eyes and wished it all the same.
“You don’t have to be scared for me,” Nesta said quietly. The dangerous line they had been toeing since they’d nearly died together had been tested and tested again after Nesta had finally stopped hiding in her room following the War. It happened every time she went out with the females with the specific task of finding her a male to bed and he waited for her to come home, and she did. She’d even kissed his cheek one night, after she drunkenly fell down the stairs and he carried her up to her room. The line had nearly fuzzed out completely when she found Cassian half naked and half asleep on the roof of the House of Wind, staring down at Velaris and waiting for the oh-so-exquisite sunrise. He’d had the drowsy nerve to kiss her then, too.
It was never enough for the burning coursing through him the sparked at each of her gentle touches.
“Cassian?” She touched his chin gently.
“I’m in charge of making sure Rhys and Feyre’s court can protect themselves. That includes you now and …” Cassian looked up to the ceiling for a second. “If something happens to you when I’m not there again, I … I don’t know … what I’ll do. To- to be with you again.”
“You are far too overprotective and-”
“And you aren’t mine to protect,” Cassian mumbled. “But- When you were human, that shit male- and then with Hybern, if not for Elain-”
“Cassian,” she brushed at his lip with her thumb. “Human males are called men.”
Cassian laughed lowly at this, shaking his head. Nesta’s humor always came in such a fashion, always wildly unexpected and brutally simple. Cassian rested his forehead against hers after a long moment, chasing her gently as she dropped off her toes.
“Be careful,” Cassian whispered.
“I’m not leaving for a while,” Nesta murmured, her nose running along his for a moment. Cassian lived for this collection of heartbeats. He lived for the scent of her pulling him slowly closer. He lived for the heat of her skin teasing his. He lived for the choice that was made as Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut. He lived for the call in her blood as his roared.
He’d never loved a female like this before. Usually it came after sharing a bed so many times she was no surprise. Nesta never failed to surprise him when it truly counted. He’d only been allowed the tiniest hint of a taste of her body. But there was something else, something other to her.
Nesta Nesta Nesta.
He kissed her, unable to wait any longer. It was lighter than a feather, a true testament to his tarnished self-control. He finally rested a hand on her lower back and tugged her closer.
Nesta, for all the lack of experience she claimed, had an Archeron tongue. He’d heard enough of Rhys’ muttering and Lucien’s bleary, drunken rants to have some hint of this familial brand of magic.
It was very different to experience it, with Nesta tugging on his hair and making delicious sounds into his mouth. He couldn’t touch her enough, couldn’t breathe enough.
Cassian had no idea how long it was until they parted.
“If you had any brains, you’d threaten to leave me if I don’t train with you,” Nesta said quietly. Cassian’s first answer was lost as he shuddered; she was touching his wings again. He buried his head in her neck, slowly moving upwards to her perfect ears. He could feel every moan vibrate through her as she leaned into him.
“Even I don’t have the restraint for that,” Cassian breathed into her ear. Before she could answer he bit her earlobe gently.
That was one thing to knock off his to-do list. Although, he may very well have to put it back on, just for the little gasp Nesta made.

God, to get stuck in her downpour. He was always looking up at the sky, breathing water just to hear her say his name. Drenched in her but not enough. It is never enough.
—  being with her is like constant rain: he is always drowning // abby, day 305
Tyler Seguin -Longing Pt. 2

Originally posted by seguinisbae

I’ve gotten so much incredible feedback on Part One so, as promised, here is Part Two! I hope it’s as good as the first one and you all enjoy it! I’ll link the first one down below in case anyone is in need of a refresher. As always I love hearing your feedback so leave me a comment or an ask letting me know what you think! 

Part 1 Part 2

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ladyenjolras  asked:

can we talk about how during sansa's walk in the trailer opening that she nearly looks back TWICE and catches herself both times. there's definitely someone behind her, and she's not allowing herself to look back at them. i think it's jon; he just told her that he's leaving to go south, and she won't let herself cry ("be weak") in front of him or look back at him, lest she turn around and beg him to stay.

Well if they want to double down on the whole ‘Ned/Cat 2.0′ cinematic parallels, it makes sense. If she’s advising him to go south but doesn’t actually want him to leave, that scene literally took place in the Godswood. It also had Cat feeling like she didn’t belong there with the Old Gods. Sansa has always been more connected to The Seven. When she wanted to take up the Old Gods after realizing she didn’t fit into the south, there was no weirwood tree in the King’s Landing Godswood, and she noted that it felt empty like her. Jon is the most connected to the Old Gods – right down to Ghost, who Jon notes looks like a weirwood tree. It’s another parallel of the one who is most northern - Jon/Ned - leaving the one who is more southern - Sansa/Cat - behind to manage Winterfell in his stead. 

This is not a parallel I like that much, because it implies they both will die. However, I think these parallels (Arya/Lyanna, Jon/Ned, Sansa/Cat, Bran/Benjen) are about reverse arcs and how they are improvements on what came before. Arya will live, Bran will return from the wall, Jon will do something without honour (potentially becoming a kinslayer ala the Bael the Bard story with Dany, for just one possibility) that ends up saving his family, etc. 

I’ve seen speculation that Jon is killing LF under the Heart Tree on reddit and on here but in no way do I think that could possibly be true. I sincerely doubt Jon would take LF to the Godswood to execute him, in their most sacred space. I also don’t think Jon will execute LF. Unless it’s an old style sacrifice to the trees but unless ghost eats LF it seems out of place. But more importantly – Sansa had a huge moment last season where she looked at Ramsay when she killed him. The one who swings the sword and all that. Justice. I can’t see her looking away when LF is murdered.

I’ve also seen spec that it’s Bran. But a lot of people on here and reddit think that Bran is just gonna stay by the Heart Tree once he gets back from the Wall and just become THAT tree. I don’t see why they would build him a fucking wheelchair if he’s just gonna sit in one place all the time? He didn’t get one when he was the Lord of Winterfell in s2, afterall. But yeah, it could be Bran too.

But I would say that it’s either LF or Jon she’s talking to under the tree. And since we already got a LF/Sansa Godswood scene, probably Jon!

anonymous asked:

How do you think joker and Harley would react if cp became apart of the batfam? Like she did it secretively but somehow they found out.(oh and I don't know if this sounds weird but what if she pretended she was a boy? Like she wouldn't have a suit like batgirl it would be more like a mini batman you could say)also when I imagine this she's young like 12

Joker and Harley would stop at nothing to get her out of there and with them again. Like how Bruce would see them as toxic, thats how they see the batfamily. Bruce would always try and rescue their daughter and rehabilitate her, like he tried with Joker in the killing joke for example, they would try and convince her to come back or kidnap her and try and reason with her. Joker and Harley are all about being your true self and saying fuck it to the rest, it’s how they became them. They jus never would expect her to join the batfam. But if she wanted to dress or look like a boy they wouldnt mind that at all. Theyd create a wardrobe for her to accomodate and copy all of jokers suits for her or anything else she wanted to show her they love her and would give her anything. That all being said, theyd want her to always be laughing and smiling and happy but itd be very hard for them to accept her in that family. Push comes to shove theyd still try and kill the rest of them but never her. Always trying to entice her or lure her back. Being masters at manipulation theyd try something to convince her the batfam lied or betrayed her. For them it doesnt matter how they get her back, just as long as they do.

I need a Yooran Stardew Valley crossover au in my life.

CAN YOU IMAGINE.

Yoosung the city boy going to work on a farm, having lots of rabbits and chicken.

Saeran in the place of Sebastian, the programmer that wants to get away from the valley but stays when he falls for our yellow cinnamon roll.
 
Seven is the ‘golden’ child at the twins house so Saeran has some mild resentment.

Jumin is the major of Stardew, Elizabeth the 3rd is always going missing so Yoosung always gets mail with lost cat requests.

Jaehee owns the ranch next to Yoosung’s farm, very good business woman (her animals are expensive) but also regularly checks on Yoosung to make sure he’s looking after himself. 

V lives near, quite isolated and is a bit of a dreamer/loner, likes to take pictures of the lake and wildlife. Can be seen walking around in the evening a lot.

Zen lives with his nan and gramps. Really wants to make it big in the city but stays put to look after his grandparents. Is always out by his house exercising and is the self-proclaimed hottest guy in the village. Will go out of his way to help others, sometimes helps Yoosung with transporting heavy goods

Vanderwood is the leader of the adventurer guild and first meets Yoosung by saving him from a slime. Has an eye patch, no one knows why.

Rika lives by the ocean, can sometimes be seen with V and is a writer, good at moving people with her words. Loves flowers seems very cheerful but keeps to herself a lot

Yoosung and Saeran sitting at the lake next the mines, going to the beach in the rain etc

I NEED THIS.

All the other characters would have be the ones in the game…. This is probably incoherent and a complete mess but I got so excited that I just needed to get this out there….

I REALLY NEED THIS.

Prom Night

After a failed attempt at asking Carol out, Daryl expects to have the worst prom ever, However it turns out much better than he assumes.

High School Prom AU


The flowers are starting to wilt. Daryl spent his morning carefully picking out  perfect blooms on the Cherokee Rose bush next to his house. The stems are wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper and tied together with a ribbon that matches her eyes. He glances at the clock. Almost two. That’s when her third block gets out and then he can ask her. Out. To prom. As his date. Not as his friend like he was originally going to do. No, he finally has the balls to ask Carol Mason to be his prom date.

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anonymous asked:

The Lauren Updates account on twitter always post when a celebrity likes/comments on Lauren's IG post. Ty and Demi seem to like every one of her posts so that update account tweets when they do. Have you ever looked at the comments under their tweets? It's very telling the difference in comments people put under the Ty tweet vs. the Demi tweet. Everyone seems to be all for the Demi likes, wanting her and Lauren to get together but hate on Ty whenever he likes her pictures. It's crazy

Yeah, L stans always want her to be with girls. It’s biphobic.
-A

It’s interesting how they don’t seem to care that Demi met L when she was only 16. Am I the only one that finds that weird? - C

“The floor is lava…”, he whispered. Nobody heard him. And if they did they always chose to ignore him. “Hey! The floor…it’s…it’s lava”, he said a little louder. Amber gave him a quick glance then pretended he wasn’t there. It was like that one time he finally managed to confess to her in 9th grade. She had stared at him with a puzzled look on her face and then walked away without saying a single word. The next day he was as good as dead to her and her friends. He could still be in the same room as them but his presence got unacknowledged. “I am telling you! The floor is lava!” “Oh, fuck off, Jake”, said Amber. It was the first time Amber, let alone anyone, spoke to him since the death of his parents. A tear rolled over his cheek and was followed by a smile. “But but…”. “Listen to me Jake. The floor is lava, the sky is lava, the floor is my pussy…” (He could see Max picturing the latter in his mind’s eye), all of it.. just stop it, okay? This has been going on for days and nobody gives a damn. You are only making a fool of yourself Jake!“, she exclaimed. "Bet he wished the floor was your pussy”, howled Max. “Fucking loser." A smile appeared on Jake’s face. "See! Told you! He really wants the floor to be…” “Oh, shut up, Max!” Sweat started to drip from Jake’s forehead. He grinned. “The. Floor. Is. Lava.” 5…..4…..3….2….he jumped on his desk….1….and then watched Amber, Max and their friends being swallowed by the lava. Their screams music to his ears and the smell of their burning corpses something he would cherish forever. The same way he cherished that of his parents. “The floor is lava, bitch.”

anonymous asked:

so, um. if you have any particular feelings about labyrinth--specifically Sarah--uh, go wild.

WILD PEACHES  [AO3]

.

The morning after Sarah Williams defeats the Goblin King, she gets up and makes toast. She has to brush some glitter off the toaster—it withers and vanishes at the brush of her fingertips, and she stares at her hand for a long time. 

It mostly just looks like her hand. Even when she turns it over, and sees where she scraped her knuckles against the oubliette, where the shattered mirror cut the back of her wrist. It looks like she fell, or was playing in the street. That’s all.

The toast comes out burned, and Sarah stares at that too. Eventually, she slumps down against the cabinets and cries, wracking sobs that send her dad and Karen rushing into kitchen. They check her forehead for a fever, put their hands on her, and keep asking, “Are you okay? Sarah, please, tell us what’s wrong…”

Eventually, her dad drags her into his lap and cradles her against his chest, like he did when she was little. Her legs are too long to really fit anymore, but Sarah hugs him around the neck anyway. “It’ll be okay,” he says, keeps saying. “You’ll be okay.” And Sarah—doesn’t laugh, because she can’t, and doesn’t have the words to express what—how—

(None of her stories ever talked about this. What did Sir George do, the morning after he slayed the last dragon in England? Did Tam Lin eat breakfast, or did he sit there, shivering, wondering if his hands were different, having been claws and wings and scales?)

Afterwards, she leaves the burnt toast outside on the back porch. Not an offering. Maybe a reminder.

.

It’s Didymus she sees the most often, mostly because he’s the one who invites himself rather than waiting for an invitation. He comes for tea, but even if there’s no tea—which there isn’t, usually—he comes to tell Sarah stories. She learns to love poetry because there’s no escaping it with him. (She won’t read Idylls of the King until Brit Lit in college, but she ends up scrawling a lot in the margins; Didymus’ telling of events had been much more interesting.)

Once, she falls asleep like that, her hands tucked behind her head with Didymus curled up and sleepily reciting from the crook of her elbow. “So tender was her voice, so fair her face—though I don’t think he was looking at her face, my lady, pardon me for saying so—”

Sarah buries her nose in his fur. Didymus always smells of rosewater, and a crispness she thinks is just…the Labyrinth. She falls asleep trying to place it.

She wakes up with a wild fox in her bed, animal-black eyes frightened and flat, teeth bared. The fox is whining, and she’s tempted to throw herself across the room, to get away from this wild thing and its teeth. It takes a monumental will to keep herself still and her breathing slow, even; like she’s still asleep and unafraid. 

It takes her longer to swallow, and start humming one of the songs he taught her—a knight’s round, he’d said. She’s shaky at first, but the fox’s ears flick forward. It cocks its head, and slowly, the teeth disappear behind its lips. 

She almost laughs when noses at her throat curiously, butting its head against her jaw like a cat might.

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Chanyeol’s cute reaction when the little girl said he’s handsome (cr)

You Who... [M] (ft. Jeongguk)

Originally posted by bapsae-monsta

Drabble Game Prompt 96. “Here, let me.” with badboy/jock!jeongguk

→ badboy football jk (warning: overstimulation, cumplay, fluff, and fuckingjeonjungkook)
→ 1.4k words prequel part 01 | 02

A/N: i have no idea where this came from, my hand sort of slipped, jfc what have i done 

UPDATE: added the highly-requested prequel as a thank you for 1k+ notes :)


“There you go, yes, you can do it babe,” Jeongguk encourages, as you bite down on your lip.  

He grins up at you as you move your hips slowly against his, finding the way you squeeze your eyes shut tightly the cutest thing ever. 

“J-jeongguk I-I can’t–” you stutter, arms clutching at his bare shoulders as your movements stutter and begin to slow down. But you whimper instead at the loss of friction between your legs and begin to cry tears of frustration as you don’t know whether to continue grinding against him and chase after another orgasm or to stop completely. 

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Man my mom pointed out I do this thing and now I can’t help but imagine Tony doing it

Tony’s just standing there, talking to Pepper before they’re seated for lunch, and when the hostess finally calls them to be seated he just reaches out and runs the tip of his finger over the edges of the petals on the carnations at her station, and he doesn’t even stop talking, doesn’t even notice he’s done it

Or the Avengers are walking into a charity gala and Tony’s smiling and answering the press’s questions and he makes it to the door and he pauses to trail the tips of his fingers over the edges of the petals of the irises before he gives a grand wave and disappears inside

Or Natasha gets a bouquet for herself because fuck waiting for someone to give her one and Tony tells her it’s lovely and trails the tips of his fingers over the edges of the petals of the daisies before he grabs a bottle of water

The best part is that Tony legit doesn’t notice he’s doing these things and his friends love seeing him do it every time there are flowers around, so they make sure they’re always around

They keep a bowl of flowers in the communal kitchen, vases in the common room, Pepper keeps a mason jar on her desk for a new flower every day and Rhodey always comes to visit with an armful of flowers because Tony has done this ever since he’s known him

Thor even brings a potted plant from Asgard that looks a lot like a peony except the petals are somehow softer and it sends out a sweet aroma that’s never cloying and Thor actually squeaks like a kitten when he sees Tony brush by it with his fingers as usual, then actually turn and walk back to it so he can lean down and let the petals brush over his cheek

The Avengers all want to cry when they’re at a park for a PR thing and a child shyly hands Tony a daisy-chain flower crown and Tony trails his fingertips over some of the tiny petals before he puts it on his head and it’s so cute

Bonus: A Poison Ivy-like villain appears and Tony’s face just softens and the other Avengers are like “DO NOT” but Tony can’t help it, the car nearest him has been covered in rose vines and it’s beautiful, and his gauntlet retracts as he reaches out to touch the petals and then one of the petals falls off and Tony looks honestly devastated and PI Villain feels so sorry for him that she conjures an Everlasting Rose for him and leaves without any actual damage except to that car and a building that needed to be torn down anyway

3

whenever i can’t draw i always default to these losers in a shoujo-manga au.

I always have this theory that a lot of the companions have high-maintenance looks that take a while to sort out, and getting ready must be a pain. So I was thinking about some of my DAI favourites and ended up with the “six AM and just got up” headcanons: 

  • Cassandra sans-makeup is just as scary gorgeous. But more scary. And the hair is… vertical. She looks glorious. And like she might commit murder. Consciously works to straighten her posture and seem more soldierly.
  • Cullen is insanely curly and eye-bags ahoy, because he barely gets any sleep anyway. Even more pale than usual. Very, very Fereldan in terms of accent, and grumpy if it’s been a bad night. Sheepish if it hasn’t.
  • Dorian can join the vertical-hair camp (though parts of it are also flattened) and is also stubbly plus pissed off because he hasn’t had chance to wax his moustache yet. Probably making his way to the nearest bath ASAP. Slightly hairier than anyone expected.
  • Josephine… glorious cascades of wavy hair. And maybe a lot of frizz. And trying not to tired-blink because it’ll ruin her diplomat-paying-attention image. And I also agree with the frilly-underwear headcanons I’ve seen. She’d so have bloomers.
  • Sera looks like… Sera. Less eyeliner, I suppose.
  • Bull occasionally forgets - or pretends to forget - he has a pillow stuck on his horns. Yawns a lot. Eyepatch slightly askew. Insists he sleeps in the nude but people have mainly just seen an even more awful pair of “circus pants” that must be his pyjamas.
  • Krem tends to end up with his undercut flopping annoyingly into his eyes, and when he’s half asleep he goes all mumbly and even more Tevene. Probably wears something sleeveless by way of pyjamas to show off the arms.
  • Leliana… no-one actually knows. No-one’s ever caught her less than perfectly preened. Everyone’s too terrified not to knock.
  • Blackwall’s bedhead is legendary. Even the beard has bedhead.
  • Vivienne is either never seen unprepared, or perfectly businesslike and will probably politely murder you if you draw attention to the slightly-more-scalp-stubble and the lack of makeup. She’d probably just brazen it out, so maybe the latter.
  • Cole doesn’t sleep. It’s rather unnerving.
  • Solas is just slightly sharper than usual. Other than that, he has a worrying amount of composure. But then, he’s pretty used to dropping in and out of the Fade.
You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist linked in bio


If she closes her eyes hard enough, and just at the right moments, Y/n can feel Harry in Dan.

It’s quite peculiar, how she finds Harry in almost anything. It’s something she finds so riveting yet so dangerous at the same time. He’s everywhere, he’s in every breath she takes and in every move she makes, and it’s something that brings her an overwhelming sense of comfort yet an overbearing sense of instability.

Dan—an individual full of insecurities and excitement—who varies oh, so differently from Harry, can feel like him if she really tries hard enough. His arms don’t hold her quite the same, and his lips aren’t as soft and flavorful, but if she squeezes her eyes shut, and she loses herself in the memories of Harry, it’s like he’s almost back again—only in the most minuscule of ways.

Which is why, now, in this moment in time, Y/n can barely keep her eyes open.

It’s the first time Y/n brought Dan to the house, letting him stop by to watch a film after his shift. It’s a little something he’s wanted to do for a while, and after many coffee dates and many pleads from Dan, she finally took the step of being completely alone with him.

Gabby decided to go to a friends house and insisted they take their time together. It started off wonderfully; a bottle of red wine, a box of chocolates, and a bag of popcorn while they watched Jaws.

It was all wonderful, until Dan decided to make the move.

Dan is on top of her, lips connecting to hers in a lustful motion. It isn’t that Y/n doesn’t want to be in this position, but more of her being hesitant to do so. She hasn’t kissed anybody since Harry, and although Dan is one of the nicest people she’s ever met, she can’t find it within herself to keep moving any more forward.

And everything about it feels wrong.

Between all the touching, all the kissing, all the feelings within her, she can’t stop thinking about Harry. She can’t stop thinking about how much she misses him and how much she wants him back. She’s still in love with him, so much so that doing this with someone else makes her feel dirty—makes her feel like she’s betraying him.

And it’s all too much, because no matter how hard she closes her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to feel him, he’s not there, and she can’t help but seem to think that he never will be—not anymore.

“No, no, stop.” She whimpers, shaking her head in an attempt to reject Dan’s restless lips.

He doesn’t stop, however, too engaged in the moment to really understand the words stuttering from her mouth. He continues kissing her, instead, moving down to her collarbones.

At this point, Y/n starts to hyperventilate. Between the sobs daring to escape her chest and the lack of air from her previous activities, everything is straining against her. She doesn’t fully understand how she was able to get this far without it being with Harry.

“Stop!”

Her arms push Dan off of her until she’s alone on the couch as he’s panting on the floor. She can’t breathe. Her chest is tightening and her cries are so harsh that her lungs are collapsing inside of her.

She reaches her hands up to the roots of her hair, pulling back on them as she tries to gather all the oxygen she can. At this point, her head feels light and her sight is completely blurred by the tears flowing out of them—ones that she doesn’t even try to stop.

“I’m s—so sor—ry.” She hiccups, her head falling to her hands.

Dan gulps as he tentatively stands from his spot on the floor, his hands up in front of him as if in a panic—trying desperately to figure out how to fix the mess being made in front of him.

He looks around the room, as if in search for something to guide him through this situation, but there’s nothing. All the room occupies is a broken woman, sobbing breathlessly on a couch in front of him, muttering incoherent phrases under her breath.

“Okay,” he huffs out, nodding his head to himself, “It’s okay, yeah? You’re okay?”

He occupies the empty spot next to her, hesitantly wrapping an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. In all honesty, Dan is complete shit at helping people during emotional breakdowns, and considering this one had happened so suddenly, he had absolutely no warning that he would be put in this position.

Y/n feels bad, she does, considering Dan doesn’t deserve the treatment she’s given him and surely doesn’t deserve what was once an innocent date to end up a complete disaster. But she can’t help it, and she can’t stop now, no matter how hard she tries.

“It’s Harry, isn’t it?”

His voice is nothing but a whisper, and the words that spoke out from his lips nearly brings every movement in Y/n’s body to a halt. She never told him that it was Harry who broke her heart, and to be honest, she doesn’t even find the strength within her to begin to question how he even knows of Harry—especially his relationship with her.

Of course, their relationship has been publicized for years, but Dan is a very closed-off type of person. He’s not much into music, either—another part of him that differs so drastically from Harry—and spends a majority of his time working or spending time outside rather than succumbing himself in social media.

He looks down at the rose ring wrapped around his pointer finger, twirling it around with the hand that was once wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders.

He knew the moment he saw Harry’s reaction that this ring very much belonged to him. He wasn’t quite sure why she sacrificed it so mindlessly—why it seemed to have no story behind it. But between everything Gabby’s told him and everything he’s gathered from her previous relationship, she wanted nothing more than to get rid of every reminder she had of him.

He doesn’t feel worthy enough for it, though. If Y/n and Harry don’t find their way back to each other, he feels she should at least give it to somebody that she loves, not somebody she needs to help her get over her heartbreak.

He slides it off his finger, placing it gently on the palm of his hand before closing his fingers into a fist.

“We can’t keep doing this, Y/n. Not if you can’t talk to me.” He mutters softly, “Not if you’re still in love with him, we’ll be getting nowhere.”

This makes her cry harder. She still doesn’t have the audacity to look up at him, no, how could she? After everything she’s done?

This is why she always ends up alone. No matter how in love she is, no matter how much effort she puts into a relationship, they always end up leaving her. It’s happened long before Harry, and she was so convinced he’d stay when he came around. She was so dead set on him being her forever, but the same thing happened again. He left, just like everyone else.

And now, Dan is leaving her, and although she can’t exactly blame him for doing so, it’s another wound to her heart—it’s another pain in her chest that only seems to increase with pain.

He sighs sadly at the sight in front of him, upset with himself that he’s probably a partial reason for her soul-shaking sobs and lack of air, but he has no other choice. If he stays with her, he’d be forcing her to love someone she doesn’t. He has to let her go if it means to possibly make amends with her happiness again.

He takes one of her shaking hands away from her face and bringing it towards his lap, spreading her fingers away from her palm so that he can set the ring softly against it.

She sobs at the sight, bringing her opposite hand to her mouth as she tries to quiet herself down.

“This was Harry’s, it always was. This belongs to you, Y/n, not me.”

She nods, trying her best to smile at him as a form of appreciation, but it fails miserably. He understands, though, that she cares, and doesn’t ask her any questions.

“I’ll let Gabby know to come home now, okay?”

He kisses the top of her head, the way he always does, before removing himself from the couch and toward the front door.

“Take care of yourself, Y/n. I mean it.”

And then, he’s gone, leaving Y/n alone in an empty house and her haunting thoughts. She feels the world is closing in on her, only giving her a restricted amount of air and a limited amount of light to see what’s in front of her.

She’s alone—she’s left by herself in a dark room that’s only being illuminated by the television light, where nobody can hear her, where nobody can touch her, where nobody can see her; in a place where she just can’t trust herself.

She’s left alone, as she’s always left, and she just can’t take it anymore.

Her emotions become so strong that her body collapses onto the floor, her head throbbing and throat burning from all the tears and cries. She can’t breathe, her lungs failing to take in oxygen and her chest is pounding.

It’s so bad that if Gabby doesn’t come home soon, she actually believes she’s going to die. She feels the tug on her heart and feels how hard it is for it to do its job properly—she practically feels it overworking itself.

“Oh, God.”

Gabby finds her on the floor, making her immediately drop her purse and run to her collapsed body. Y/n is a withering mess underneath her, completely drenched in sweat as violent sobs erupt from her body.

She’s quick to sit her up properly onto the floor before lifting her back onto the couch, running a comforting hand down the side of her neck as she begins to shush her down to a calm state. However, her attempt falters when Y/n shakes her head to remove Gabby’s touch from her neck.

“I can’t—I can’t—“

She tries to find words to explain what’s happening to her right now. Between the pain in her body and the feeling in her head, her brain is scrambling with so many fearful thoughts that the only thing she can truly comprehend is being saved from this horrifying feeling.

“Hospital.”

Gabby is taken aback when she says it, completely astonished by just how serious this all is. She realizes this isn’t a situation that she can fix on her own, and it makes her feel like such a bad friend that she can’t give her what she needs.

Tears fall from her eyes in panic, well aware that her friend is undergoing something far worse than a mental breakdown, but also knows that the hospital won’t be able to help her.

Only Harry can.

“Let me call for help, okay?“ She asks softly. “I’m gonna send help.”

When Harry sees Gabby’s contact light up his phone, something inside of him instantly fills with worry. He knows, without a doubt, that Gabby hates him more than anybody ever since what happened. And knowing her so well, she would never reach out to him, especially when her negative feelings toward him were so strong, unless it’s serious.

“Gabby?”

“You have to do something, Harry.” She cries through the phone, peaking over her shoulder to look over Y/n from her location in the kitchen.

She’s still a mess, holding her hand over her heart as if it were going to mend the pain. Her head is thrown over the back of the couch, her other hand running over her face continuously. Her sobs haven’t settled, only seeming to increase with panic over the unfamiliar reaction occurring over her body.

“She thinks you don’t want her and—Harry she thinks she’s dying. Her heart is so broken. She keeps saying her heart is going to fail her and I don’t—I don’t know what to do. I don’t think there’s anything I can do. She—she was trying so hard. Harry, please, you have to—you have to—“

Harry leans on his elbows over the kitchen counter, huffing out a shaky breath when he hears both Gabby and Y/n’s cries through the phone. He rubs his hand over his face, doing anything to prevent the tears nearly pooling out from his eyes.

He’d be lying if he said that guilt isn’t eating him alive in this moment. And it’s not that he hasn’t felt any remorse or any guilt since he’d broken Y/n’s heart, but he’s now fully aware that he has to look at the damage he’s done. He’ll have to witness all the pain, all the heartbreak he’s put her through, and nothing makes him feel worse.

“I’ll do anything.” He whimpers. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I promise, I won’t keep doing this to her, you have to believe me. Just—“ he lets out a broken breath, reaching his hand up to rub his eyes to prevent any tears from escaping, “just tell me what to do.”

Gabby wipes the tears from her cheeks, yet again peering over to watch over Y/n on the couch. To her dismay, there is absolutely no improvement.

“Come here, pick her up, and bring her home. Just talk to her, please. Nothing makes her feel worse than believing you don’t want her anymore. Hell, even if you don’t—I don’t know with you anymore—just give her something. You’re the only one that can fix this.”

He sighs, nodding his head before making his way out of his house without much of a response to her. He’s only concerned for Y/n, and is so focused on getting to her so that he can prove to her that he’s changed—that he’s not the same Harry he was and is going to be there for her for as long as his life lasts, even if she doesn’t allow it.

But it’s upon arrival he realizes how much more serious this is than he thought. She’s completely breaking down, every inch of her shaking and fear written on her face. She’s a complete and utter mess, a completely wrecked version of such a beautiful, unbroken woman who had so much love in her heart and surrounded by so much love in the air.

And even though Harry knows she believes she’s going to die, apart of him believes she’s already dead. The life inside of her has burned out and is now just a product of what once was. The Y/n he always known is long gone—so far gone he almost doesn’t believe it’s her.

He looks at her with the most distraught and sympathetic look Gabby has ever seen. She has never seen so much guilt in somebody before that—no matter how much she hates him—she can’t help but feel sorry for him, too.

“Baby, hey. Hey now, it’s alright.” He whispers, kneeling in front of Y/n’s shaking figure and tentatively reaching for her hair so that he can attempt to calm her down. “I’m here now, I’m right here.”

A pitiful sound leaves her lips when she looks up at him; something between a whine, a sob, and a groan. It’s messy from her throat being raw from all the screaming and cries, and it leaves an indescribable pain that only makes her cries stronger.

She can’t even think properly, everything in her body overworking itself. It’s something she’s never experienced before, and all the fears of it being permanent rush through her veins—leaving her with an overwhelming amount of anxiety.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Harry mumbles to Gabby, making sure to rub gently over the back of Y/n’s neck. Although panic attacks weren’t common for her, whenever she was overwhelmed and stressed, this gesture always seemed calmed her down.

“I don’t know what to do. I can’t drive with her like this I—Gabby, how do I focus with her like this?” He cries, the situation in front of him making his body turn to shambles, “Especially when it’s my fault? How do I—do I keep her here until she’s calm? I don’t—I don’t know—”

Gabby shakes her head, reaching her hand over to graze his tense shoulder. She squeezes the muscle softly, almost as a sort of reassurance.

“She needs home, Harry—” she whispers, “she needs you.

He nods, choking back sobs as he brushes the hair out of Y/n’s face. The skin of her face is red and completely soaked, but this is the first time he’s seen her since the morning in the grocery store, and she’s never looked so beautiful.

“I’m going to take you home with me, Y/n. But I need you to breathe for me, can you do that?” He asks, holding her face delicately between his hands, “Breathe with me.”

Y/n sucks in a deep breath when Harry inhales deeply, attempting to rid all the anxiety and pain settling inside of her. Her inhale is broken between hiccups and cries, but as she keeps eye contact with him as she tries to calm down, a little part of her feels revived.

“It hurts.” She whimpers between sobs, referring to the pain in her chest and the throbbing in her head that just can’t seem to heal.

She watches as Harry’s face scrunches with an agonizing cry, and she knows he’s aware of exactly what she’s talking about. She’s been brokenhearted for so long, she doesn’t even think he’s the least bit shocked when she tells him her heart is hurting.

“I know, baby. I know.” He whispers as he kisses her forehead gently. “Let’s get you home, yeah? Make you feel better?”

And as much as she wants to hate him, or yell at him for everything he’s done to her and make him understand just how much of her life he’s ruined, she genuinely feels like her body is going to collapse at any given moment. She needs him, even if it’s just for right now, she has to just focus on everything happening in the now. Harry’s come back to her and she’s about to go back home.

Because if she doesn’t think about the present moment—Harry holding her, Harry kissing her, Harry about to take the both of them back to their house—she’ll never find a way to fix herself. She’ll be stuck in this anxiety and pain for far too long—so long that it could actually kill her.

So she closes her eyes, only focusing on his touch and his breath fanning over her wet face. She forgets the t-shirt, she forgets all the times he’s ignored her after declaring them to take a break, and she forgets about Jessica. At least for right now, she can focus on all that tomorrow.

She nods, and it’s then Harry notices how much more calm she is. Although she’s still crying and still incapable of speaking much from the aching in her throat, she’s breathing properly again and her once undying sobs have turned into soft whimpers.

He leans in so that he can properly wrap his arms around her, hooking one hand on her back and the other under her knees. There’s no way in hell she’s capable of walking—not like this, and in all honesty, he would much rather hold her now than leave her side for another second.

It’s when Y/n is being held so close to him again that the aching in her chest seems to almost vanish completely. And although there is still a weight on top of her lungs, and still a slight uncomfortableness in her heart, she’s finally able to breathe again.

“I’m gonna make this all better, okay? I promise you, gonna fix you.” He mumbles with his lips against her hairline, making sure to keep rubbing the back of her neck softly.

It’s a promise he intends on keeping—a promise he never plans on breaking again. He could never live with himself if he were to keep putting her through all of this pain. She’s the most undeserving person—he knows that—and he knows she’s too pure to go through all that she’s been through the past couple of months.

The car ride is completely silent, only Y/n’s cries and small sniffles filling the empty space. Although she still isn’t completely calm, she’s improved so much since he first came to pick her up and it is able to keep his mind at ease. At least while he drives.

And he doesn’t miss her hand sneaking over the console to intertwine her fingers with his. He doesn’t expect it but he also doesn’t mind it. If anything, it makes him feel better just as much as it does her.

When they pull up to the driveway of their once shared house, every bit of composure she’s withheld in her body is breaking down by the second. Her strength is wearing thin, and knowing she’ll be reuniting in the house where Y/n and Harry once had everything makes her more afraid than ever.

Harry notices her sudden shift in mood and doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle himself from his seat and walk around the car to where her exhausted figure is sobbing, slumped against the passenger seat. He sighs meekly before unbuckling her, as well, and lifting her against him the way he had before.

“Hey there, s’alright, I’m here. We’ll work this out, but you need to sleep first, yeah? Looking very pale and I know you well enough to see you’ve been lacking sleep.”

Although they both know Y/n isn’t going to respond, she wants to continue listening to him speak. It’s something she hasn’t heard in so long, and she wouldn’t even care if he was talking about the goddamn weather, she just wants to hear him again.

He keeps talking, too, because he notices the effects of his voice on her anxiety and how the muscles in her body relax under his words. He’ll stop at nothing to make sure she’s okay again, even if it means having a one-sided conversation.

“You know how you are, too—grumpy and sensitive when you’re tired. Almost take my head off if you don’t get more than seven hours. Remember that one time at my mum’s Christmas dinner party? Barely slept the night before from wrapping so many gifts that you genuinely got upset with me for not knowing your favorite alcoholic beverage.” He chuckles softly. “Funny lil thing.“

Through the nonstop crying and the frown that hasn’t left Y/n’s lips in what feels like an eternity, the first smile stretches from her lips. It’s the smallest closed mouth smile he’s ever seen, but it’s there, and it’s the most genuine feeling of happiness she’s had in so long.

When Harry unlocks the door, he wastes no time making his way over to their couch. He knows very well that she wouldn’t want to sleep on their bed, considering she’s well aware of what he did with Jessica on that bed and he wants no reason to upset her any further.

He sets her down in front of the couch, petting the top of her head softly before gathering a blanket and a pillow for her to sleep on.

He sets it up like a bed, almost, before turning to leave so that she can have her privacy. He doesn’t think she’d want to sleep with him, so he decides to sleep in the guest bedroom since he knows she’d always pick the living room couch over that room.

But before he gets too far, Y/n weakly captures his fingers in hers, pulling him back towards her.

His head snaps down to her finger, noticing the rose ring being worn beautifully on her middle finger. He almost chokes when he sees it on her, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in half confusion and half in awe.

“Please,” she whimpers, “stay.”

He snaps out of his trance at her words, slowly nodding his head as a small “of course” falls from his lips.

He lays comfortably on the couch, looking up at her when he finds a position where she can lay beside him.

“If you want you can take the—alright” he huffs.

His eyes narrow as he watches her lay on top of him—fully on top of him; her cheek nesting right where his shoulder meets his neck as her arms slither around his sides until her hands meet under his back. Her legs tangle perfectly in between his, and in any other circumstance, this probably wouldn’t have been an ideal sleeping position for the either of them. But Y/n is exhausted, both physically and mentally, and she feels this is the only position she can sleep.

Harry doesn’t mind, and easily ignores the subtle uncomfortableness in his back as he wraps his arms securely around her frame.

Although Y/n is already fast asleep on top of it, he’s unsure how he can close his eyes for longer than a blink. This could be the last chance he has to be with her in this way. He’s unsure what tomorrow holds for the both of them and their relationship—it could end entirely or create an entirely new beginning.

With the possibilities almost endless against their favor, he doesn’t want to miss a second of what could be the last of her in his life. So, he embraces the feeling of her tight hold, the little puddle of drool on the shoulder of his t-shirt, and the tickle on his chin from her loose strands of hair, because this could be the last time he feels all of that.

But he also can’t help but feel that small bit of hope still latching onto him. That somewhere—deep down—he knows they belong to each other for the rest of their lives. And that, maybe, if the universe decides that their relationship should end tomorrow, he knows destiny will find a way for the both of them again.

So, he holds her a little tighter, breathes her in a little harsher, and soaks up all the extra warmth in her body, and prays that everything will be okay.