he will forever creep me out

Privileged (19/?)

Originally posted by acourtofbellarkeandshit

“With their new found relationship, *yn* and Bellamy are forced to refocus on getting their friends out of Mount Weather which includes going behind Abby Griffin’s back. When they are reunited with Lincoln, things are definitely not what they expected.” 

Warnings: Fluff, hinted smut, violence, death, swearing

Notes: Based on 2x06 ‘Fog of War’ of The 100.

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For the first time since *yn* could remember, she woke up on her own accord. She wasn’t disturbed by shouts from outside the tent, or someone rousing her because of an emergency, by searing pain, or more commonly - by her own demons. 

This time as she stirred all she heard was the faint voices of the Ark citizens starting their days within the camp outside. *yn* raised a hand and groggily rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she twisted around in the bed sheets.

A small smile found its way onto her lips as her gaze settled on Bellamy’s sleeping figure. She remained motionless for a while as she admired his features and just how peaceful he looked which was a contrast to the usual frown and clenched jaw that was painted on his face. 

She scooter across the bed and leant forward to place her lips to his left cheek before proceeding to his right cheek, then his forehead and then the tip of nose. She grinned and moved back as his face twitched and his eyelids began to flutter open. Once he was coherent *yn* moved forward and pressed her lips against his softly. 

“Hi.” He smirked as she rested her forehead against his, his voice thick and husky from sleep.

“Hi.” She whispered back against his lips, smiling softly. 

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So I don’t have time to write this, but if anyone wants to… please do and tag me so I can see it!

AU where Bitty never went to Samwell and Jack’s already graduated and in the NHL. Jack’s out as bi, and people still think he’s the family screw up who’s just a party boy.

Bitty and his bff, Lardo (who’s bi too) are working in a LGBTQ+ strip club. Lardo starts dating Shitty who drags Jack to the club to meet his girlfriend and her roommate.

Jack sees this gorgeous guy dancing and is all heart eyed. Turns out this guy is Lardo’s roommate and omg he has to have dinner with this gorgeous man.

Jack’s all awkward and flirty and he and Bitty become friends. Jack keeps flirting and Bitty starts to fall for him, but it makes Bitty nervous and he pulls back.

Jack’s upset by this and after some pining/sad Jack is talked into asking Bitty why he’s pulled away. Jack’s all apologetic thinking that he creeped Bitty out.

And Bitty’s just like “Jack. I’m in love with you. But, you’re a freaking hockey star and a role model how will it look if you’re dating a stripper?” And Jack’s all like “Everybody already falsely assumes I’m a play boy, they don’t matter. I love you Bits, and if you’ll have me I want you forever.”

So news breaks and everyone’s rushing to check out Bitty’s social media. And his Instagram is just baking stuff and pictures of Jack reading history books/watching documentaries. They’re really this super boring couple who people think are hard partiers.

Edit** Key point at no point does Jack care about Bitty being a stripper. Bitty keeps doing it until he’s content to quit. Being a stripper is not something to be ashamed of.

Been playing Dragon’s Dogma and I’m making the game harder because I refuse to get new gear for my characters. Once you look cool, you can never change. That is the horrible truth Big Fashion doesn’t want you to know. Either that or as soon as you find a fashionable outift you immediately become a ghost and ghost rules now apply, ensuring that you will look cool in the forever-after.

I’ve actually got him wearing the helmet ingame now and I feel like I have committed a great crime.

Also, shoes are for cowards.

PS: it would be great if there was a mod to make pawns say “boss” instead of “master” because it’s starting to creep me out.

fandomsunited13  asked:

Can you please write a Jungkook imagine with numbers 10, 41, and 43 from the new list? Thank you 😊🖤

Taehyung x Reader AU (Fluffy Fluffy FLUFF)

Prompts: “It’s cute when you blush.”“You can’t fall in love with me.” “Did I fucking stutter?”

I had never given much though to high school love– Sorry I lied, actually I had given a lot of thought to high school love. With romantic 90′s teen movies basically setting me up for failure and my mother’s infatuation with Cole Porter, I turned out to be a teenage hopeless romantic suffering from unrequited love. 

It was history class and I had tuned out my project partners. I was just staring at Taehyung who was immersed in a discussion with his group across the room. I couldn’t help myself. Every time I looked over at him, part of me just really wanted to know if he was already looking back at me. At one point he was and my heart leapt. Our eyes were locked for what felt like forever but was really just a couple of seconds. I could feel the blush creep into my cheeks when-

“So Y/N, thoughts?” Rita the Bitch asked me.

“Huh?” I said absentmindedly, tearing my eyes away from Tae.

She scoffed, “Did I fucking stutter? We are doing a presentation and a scale model.” Wow. Bitch, its just project.

“I’m sorry. Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

“You know what, I don’t think you are fine with me. Why don’t you go work by yourself because no one wants to carry your weight.” And then she shoved my things off the table. That definitely caused people to look over at me, including Tae. They probably though I was just a klutz who dropped her things and they didn’t see Rita the Bitch push them. 

I knelt down to pick up my things, too overwhelmed and embarrassed to fight back. As I was collecting sheets, a hand went above mine to help me. I looked up and it was Taehyung knelt beside me. 

“Heard you were in search of new group. I am here to beg you to join mine.” He said.

I blushed, knowing that Rita and the others were obviously listening.

“No seriously, I was talking to the guys and you are exactly what we were looking for. One, you’re crazy smart and two you’re a girl and our topic is the history of feminism. Think about it, if three guys go up in front of the class and present the case of feminism to a room full of women, we will be charged with mansplaining and I can’t go back to misogynistic prison.”

I threw my head back in laughter. Taehyung helped me up and I heard Rita scoff again.

“Also, you’re really cute when you blush.” He smirked. I guess he really did like it because all that did was make me blush harder. “Taehyung,” I said standing up straighter, “I accept your group project proposal” 

Taehyung breathed “Yes!” and wiped some imaginary sweat off his forehead. He offered me his arm and winked at me, “This way m’lady.” I took it and Taehyung led me to the his group. I didn’t have to turn around to know that my ex-group members were probably seething with jealousy. 

All of sudden Taehyung stopped when we were a few feet away from his group. “I forgot to mention, there was one condition in joining us.” Taehyung said gravely leaning down so his nose was only meters away from mine. Looking deeply into my eyes as if he were searching my soul, with a voice just above a whisper he said, “You can’t fall in love with me.”

Too late.


I really like this one! Also, idk, BTS is getting so popular now after the BBMA’s and I’m so happy for them!!! It does feel a bit surreal though haha. I hope this means more tour dates :) Thanks for requesting!! Also if anyone’s name is Kim, I don’t think you are a bitch :) <3


Our Story

Read the other chapters here.

December 24, 2008

Everything is made a miracle by the fact of their togetherness. The banalities—something spiritual.


The way Jamie does their laundry. How his diligence for clean, crisp folds never extends to removing the drier sheets, tangled amongst the clothes. Claire is forever finding them in the armpits of her sweaters, or in the rolled cuffs of her jeans when she dresses in the morning. A waft of detergent—and of her husband—as a white sheet drifts down, brushing her calf like a beloved’s hand. (Familiar; intimate.)

And the way Claire knows terms like methylprednisolone, but cannot win a single game of Scrabble. Rainy days spent brooding over the board, Jamie trying to coax Triple Word scores from her Z’s and Q’s and X’s. “I reckon it’d be quixotic to think the weather will clear for a picnic?” he asks (hints), peeking at her tiles. 

More miracles, then: the way her eyes light up. The kisses she will give him for this small act of kindness. Quixotic written by her lapping tongue, and poppies left to bloom on his neck. (They will make the neighbors blush.)

Their home, too, is another miracle, with its wainscoting and butter-leather and Persian rugs. No longer must they suffer the grimy box of their mid-20’s, or the lonely echoes of their own respective homes. Boston and Scotland have been shed like old skins, or if not shed, then at least peeled to the thinnest films. 

Instead there is this house and Jamie’s footsteps in the study, and the pour of Claire’s nightly glass of milk. North Carolina lies just beyond the windows, a wild glory whose trees lean close, listening. (Even the universe has grown green-bright with envy, wants to be a part of Jamie and Claire’s love.)

And just last week, they installed heated floors and called a plumber to insulate the pipes. So now: socks peeled off with glee, breakfasts of mouths that taste like sleep and last night’s Colgate. The coffee is brewed too long and the pancakes are left on the griddle, and they burn (and burn and burn).

Miracles, all.

But even so, there is one miracle that has not come. Their hope for it—the fervency, the sheer constancy of the thing—is shadowed by a fear similar to Claire’s wedding-day stomach. Lying side by side in bed, they worry:

What if it never happens? What if it does?

(A baby.)

“We’re so old,” Claire jokes one afternoon, a few weeks into 40. She is walking the tight-rope of Jamie’s spine, trying to usher his stiffness to the surface and away. She remembers her splintered, little-girl feet—dancing in 1973—as she tip-toes up and down, up and down her husband’s back.

Though this ground is more uneven than her childhood porch, she prefers it. No sneaky shards to puncture her once-tender skin. Jamie’s are deltoids here and his trapezius there—a special comfort in her favorite pearl of his vertebrae. She hunts for it, feels its safe rub against her sole, and holds back a sigh. (Suddenly, this seems like the most precious gift, and she wishes, more than ever, that she could offer her own back to two tiny, wobbling feet.)  

“Aye, we’re fossils.”

“You could dig us up and brush the dust off,” Claire says, and so Jamie reaches back, swipes his index finger along her shin and licks it. “What would you do if you found my bones? You’re just walking along one day, kilt swinging, and you trip right over my fibula?”

“I’d build a home out of you,” Jamie says immediately. “I’d sleep on yer pelvis.”

“Awfully uncomfortable, pelvises. You’d have more back problems than you do now.”

“But that’s what yer fibulas are for, see. I’d save them for a cane and fuse ‘em together. I think it’d be nice. Always having you to lean on.” Jamie groans when she tuns around; Claire’s heels digging in and scooping out his pain. “But that’s assuming you die before I do, Sassenach. Maybe I’ll be the one who starts to go first.”

“I bloody well hope not. That’d be unbearable.”

“But no’ impossible. Me, wearing diapers at age 70…D’ye think you could ye wipe my arse, and still love me afterwards?”

“Darling, I can’t imagine a higher honor than wiping your ‘arse’ for you.” 

She is smiling—but only just—as she steps down to lay herself across his body, to shield the life of him. 

“And what about you? Will you still love me when I’m blind? I’ll have to get glasses—those big, alien things that make people look like startled bugs or arctic explorers. Like Murdina wears.”

“You’d look verra cute as a spectacled, startled bug, Sassenach.”

“But not an arctic explorer?”

“I’d prefer you as a wee crawlie inside my shirt.”

Claire snorts (a vestige of her mother there, in that unchecked happiness), then adds, “And my memory! Sheesh. A few years, and that’ll be shot straight to hell. Might even forget your name one day. Jack Fraser? Jay Fraser? ‘Ringo Starr, is that you?’ It’ll all be very embarrassing, so please just play along and pretend it’s endearing.”

“Dinna be silly,” Jamie says. “There’s no forgetting me or you.”

(A shame his body is so stiff. More feeling in his back, and he would sense the creep of a premonitory chill. See a far-off but certain future where he must pause, think slowly, in order to make a wife out of the woman next to him. A stranger to him, suddenly, until she reintroduces herself. Jamie, it’s me, it’s me.)

“I suppose you’re right,” she says. “We’re rather stuck with each other, aren’t we?”

Jamie hears the unspoken longing in her words, and he feels it too, somewhere deep in his chest. Let it be this way forever. (Together, beyond death, inside a pair of slanted amber eyes.)

“I meant my vows when I said them, Sassenach. ‘In diapers and dementia…’”

“Oh, is that how it goes?”

“Aye, the Catholics have always said it so.”

“Have I told you that I’m so glad to be stuck with you again? You. Ringo. My two-times-over husband.”

Jamie laughs, rolling over beneath her so that they’re side by side, face to face. Elbows propping heads; Claire’s right leg, straddling. She moves closer, extending her hips—oh, to live there in that cocoon of bone!—and the last of Jamie’s tension loosens, his body freed.

“So nice ye had to do it twice?”

“Better than nice,” she whispers. “Perfect.”

(No matter what, he will always remember this. How two is so much greater than one.)

But while Jamie and Claire joke about their ages, they both know that time is running out. Their baby, they realize, would be a different miracle from all the others—would eclipse even those babies born from more youthful, hospitable insides. And though they have not sat down and spoken plainly as they once did (I want to have a baby), their needing rings throughout the house, spells itself out on the Scrabble board. A baby. Let’s have a baby.

There is an added sense of responsibility to their lovemaking now, which is no less passionate but simply filled with extra care. As if the baby teeters on some fragile precipice, and needs only their encouragement to find its will to live.

Claire has taken multiple tests, all negative, over the past several months. Each time she throws a stick into the waste bin, she feels their chances slipping through her fingers, joining the pile of Q-Tips, wrappers, and tissues soaked in her frustration. She wads up toilet paper shrouds and covers the oval screens, pretending there was no test, no probability lost with the pronouncement of that one thin line.

This time is different though; Claire knows it. It is after Christmas Eve mass, 11:30PM, and she is pacing in the bathroom. Claire has been waiting all day for her courage, to be able to lock the door, hold a seventh stick, and see if her instincts have any kicking, doughy legs. She retrieves the pink box from the cupboard and sits on the toilet. Holds her breath until black sparks are in her eyes.

Tonight, she thinks, is a night for miracles.

Lion Man

Originally posted by ghisborne

Originally posted by andersjohnson

Summary: You’re about to get married to Fili, but your nerves start kicking in.

Pairings: Fili x Reader

Word Count: 770

Warnings: None

Requested by: Anon

A/n: The request was kind of confusing because they lyrics that I translated were nothing like the one I was provided but I did my best. This is my last Drabble for the weekend because I already wrote like six of them and I need to focus on my series. Also writing this, I did some research and I realized that I severely fucked up in Little Brat because it’s Hobbits that have their coming of age at 33, not dwarves, but I can’t fix it now because I’m already too far in and we’re going to pretend that I’m right. Lol bye.

Master List

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I still remember the look on your face
Lit through the darkness at 1:58.
The words that you whispered,
For just us to know.
You told me you loved me,
So why’d you go away?

For as long as you had known him, you’d been in love with Klaus Mikaelson. To you he wasn’t the original hybrid or the monster that your friends saw him as. He was kind, and charming and could make you laugh even on the worst days of your life.

One of your fondest memories of Klaus was the night you woke from a nightmare. Sweat drenched your shaking body as Klaus brought you to his chest. His face was a mixture of concern and pure love. The clock beside you blinked 1:58 but still he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, assuring you he’d never leave you and that he’d always be there to protect you and that he loved you.

But he lied. And he left.

I do recall now,
the smell of the rain fresh on the pavement.
You ran off the plane.
That July ninth, the beat of my heart it jumped through my shirt.
Hope you still feel my arms.

In New Orleans, Klaus leaned against a window over looking his city, a glass of bourbon in his hands. Light rain patterned against his window, blurring the lights that stood along the street. The smell of the rain reminded him of one of the last times he saw you. You had been away visiting family across the country for the Fourth of July..

Klaus remembered the smell of the rain fresh on the pavement and the look of joy that spread across your face when you saw him waiting for you, flowers in hand. In that moment Klaus was glad you weren’t a supernatural creature, as he knew if you could hear how his heart beat, he knew he’d never live it down. You dropped your bags and jumped into his awaiting arms and Klaus found himself hoping that you could still feel his arms wrapped around you.

Now I’ll go sit on the floor,
wearing your clothes.
All that I know is I don’t know how to be something you miss.

If somebody were to walk into your room, they’d see you, curled in a ball wearing a shirt that was far too big. The shirt you wore was not yours, of course, but one of Klaus’ that you had stolen early in your relationship before the two of you had moved in together. You swam in Klaus’ scent that had stained his, now your, shirt. Your eyes shut tight, a single thought ran through your head. You didn’t know how to be something he’d miss. Klaus had been a player before you and had met, what you thought, were more beautiful, smart and talented women. And you were sure that in a few years from now Klaus wouldn’t be able to even remember your name.

With that thought, you let the tears fall.

I do remember the swing in your step.
The life of the party, you’re showing off again.
And I’d roll my eyes and then you’d pull me in.
I’m not much for dancing, but for you I did.

Klaus remembered how happy you always seemed to be around him. No matter what troubles you had in your life, you’d constantly smile through it. His thoughts drifted to a particular day the two of you shared. The warm summer rays shone down on the both of you, surrounded in an array of colour the two of you walked through a park and with child-like fascination, you skipped after a butterfly that flutter only a few steps before you. Klaus would laugh and roll his eyes at your behaviour.

Later that night who had returned to your home to eat dinner, music softly playing in the background. A half eaten piece of chicken remained on your plate but you got up and took Klaus’ hands claiming you liked the song that was playing. The song was not something Klaus would usually dance to, it was not a centuries old waltz but an upbeat song with a jazzy beat. Klaus was going to tell you he didn’t want to dance but the look on your face silenced him in a second. He took your hand and spun you in a circle, your laughter ringing through his ears.

Because I love your hand shake, meeting my father.
I love how you walk with your hands in your pocket.
How you kissed me when I was in the middle of saying something,
There’s not a day I don’t miss those rude interruptions.

Memories flashed through your mind like lightning. The first time the two of you had met. You had been walking around, exploring the town, when Klaus walked up to you and introduced yourself. After telling him your name, you extended your hand but instead of shaking it like you had though, he took your small hand and raised it to his lips. Even while you were dating he would repeat this gesture and it always made you turn scarlet, just like the first day you met him.

So I’ll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep,
and I’ll feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe.
And I’ll keep up with our old friends just to ask them how you are.

Klaus had never stopped thinking about you but eventually you did move on. It took time but soon smiling didn’t seem so hard anymore. After a year, you met a nice guy and fell in love again and before two years had passed you had a diamond ring on your left hand. Klaus would never go up to you, he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Instead, he compelled the people around you to send him photos and letters to tell him how you were. He sat, hunched over with tears in his eyes the day he got a letter informing him of your engagement. He always knew you’d move on and live a normal life and that’s what he thought he wanted for you, but he knew in that moment, he would never stop loving you.

Hope it’s nice where you are.
And I hope the sun shines and it’s a beautiful day,
and something reminds you, you wish you had stayed.

The big day finally came, the day you’d get married. The sun shone through the church’s windows, painting your white dress with an array of colours. Looking out the window you couldn’t help the thoughts of Klaus creep into your mind. Did Klaus wish he stayed? Would he come charging into the church, yelling “I object”?

The door slammed against the wall. Dropping your flowers you turned around to see the man plaguing your thoughts.

Never imagined we’d have a last kiss.
Never imagined we’d end like this.
Your name, forever the name on my lips.

“Don’t say anything, just let me talk.” Klaus stepped towards you, holding you in his arms.

“I never thought we’d have a last kiss, I never imagined we’d end like this.” His hands moved to cup your cheeks, your watering eyes meeting his.

“And before you get married you have to know your name, will forever be the name on my lips. I love you, forever and always. ”

You pushed him away from you. “I can’t do this again Klaus. I loved you so much and you broke my heart, I’m sorry.”

You walked towards Klaus, leaning up to brush your lips with his. It was short and bittersweet. It was barely a kiss. But it was your last kiss before you walked to the alter and kissed another man. You and Klaus would never share another kiss, it was your last kiss.

what she says: i’m fine

what she really means: ok but calum looks so genuinely blissful at concerts and remember how he said his first concert was his own concert because he could never afford tickets and remember when he paid for a ticket to the 5sos show for that girl remember when he whipped his thick a$$ wallet out and paid for her ticket!!!! remember when he protected a girl he didn’t even know at a party from some creep! remember when he took so many selfys that will only ever live in his phone like he took them just for himself!!! remember me being the dust under calum’s boots forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Based off my Imagine Azriel post.

He woke with his shadows dancing around him. Fingers gripping at his bed sheets as his breathing calmed. Safe. He was safe. Still, it took a moment for his breathing to relax and heart to beat normally.
Moonlight streamed through his windows, the stars barley slightly visible through his sheer curtains. The sky was there, he remembered, he could fly away. He wasn’t chained anymore. His wings were his own, his shadows were his own. When he thought he was calm, he turned around.
Elaine’s naked body was draped across his bed, a small smile on her soft lips. His heart began thumping for a different reason. It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a bed. It wasn’t even the first time they had claimed each other in a way that seemed impossibly intimate. It wasn’t the first time she’d stayed in his bed. And yet, everytime he woke to find her there, it shocked him. The fact she picked him, claimed him, decided that he was good enough… he rolled over to her, dragging her body into his and holding her tightly. His rock in a storm, that’s what she was. He didn’t hesitate to pepper kisses on her cheek, working down to the corner of her lips and back to her cheek. He had loved Mor for five hundred years. He had been infatuated by her. But Elaine, he was forehead deep in feelings for her and there was no saving him.
He flared out his wings and cocooned them around themselves. She was his, and he was hers and they were infinite.
A slow hand moved down to her hip, drawing unintentional patterns on her skin which caused a small gasp to escape her lips.
“I love you,” he murmured,voice weighed down with sleep. She took a moment to respond.
“I know,” she purred, moving her hips back into his crotch. “I can fell the full extent of it.” He laughed at her quip, giving her cheek a soft kiss. “Would it be possible for me to love you more?” She whispered, one eye creeping open.
“Maybe,” he whispered back. “We have an infinity if time to figure it out.” She turned around in his arms, head settling on his heart. He blushed, knowing she could feel how ridiculously fast it was pounding. He moved a hand down to play with her hair.
“Only you could make me want to live forever Azriel,” she murmured, drifting back to sleep. The words stunned him that it took far too long for him to reply.
“Only you could make me start living after an infinity of just surviving,” he said delicately. Holding her tightly through the night and far past the morning. Just because he could. Just because he had forever to do so.

And a list of those who wished to be tagged.


Walking the line (II)

I had a request on ao3 for a second part of Walking the line, with Clarke taking care of a drunk Bellamy.

“You guys coming?” Miller asked.

“Go on ahead,” Clarke called back.  “I’ve got half a beer to finish and I’m not up for chugging it.”  She raised her bottle up and sloshed it around for proof.  Bellamy was busy at the sink, rinsing out the remaining glasses because of course  he would do the dishes before going out to a bar.

“Didn’t take you for a quitter,” Miller teased and then grabbed his keys from the table near the door.  She thought she caught him throwing a look at Bellamy, but it happened so fast she couldn’t be sure.

Clarke leaned her hip against the counter. “You could do those tomorrow,” she pointed out.  

Bellamy killed the stream of water and set the last glass on the drying rack.  “Washing glasses that have the remnants of alcohol in them when you’re hungover is a special kind of torture,” he said.  “I’d rather just get it out of the way now.”

“You planning on getting drunk enough you’ll be hungover?  You’ve had like, two beers.”

Bellamy opened the fridge and twisted off the cap of a bottle.  “Make that three,” he said with a familiar grin.

“Just be careful— I’m making no promises about babysitting you again.”  Clarke smiled back and lifted her bottle to her lips.

Bellamy shrugged.  “Whatever, you owed me.”

“I owed you?  That was three years ago,” she protested.  “You said you were just being nice.“

“And I was.  But you still owed me, and now we’re even.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at him, but a part of her did feel like they were finally even, thanks to his Echo-induced meltdown four months ago.  He and Echo had been on-and-off for ages, and Clarke assumed he was fine with that— and she understood the appeal, as she was a human with eyes who had seen Echo— but the night after he called it off for good he’d gotten drunker than she had ever seen him.  He ended up puking in her bathroom (first the sink and then the toilet) and in repayment for that night summer before her freshman year, Clarke had spent the night sitting on the cool tile, his head in her lap as he spilled out the whole story.  About how neither of them could decide if they wanted something more, and how every time they broke up the sex drew him back in.  (Again, Clarke understood— Echo was stunning on a level rarely achieved by mere mortals.)

“But I do want more,” Bellamy had sighed.  She scratched her nails soothingly across his scalp and his eyes fluttered shut.  “I don’t want to do the hook up shit anymore.  I want something real and sometimes I think we’d have it, but then we’d get into a fight and…” he trailed off and Clarke wondered if he’d passed out, but then he cleared his throat.  “I guess I wanted more, just not with her.”

Clarke made an understanding noise and her stomach twisted, but now– with him drunk and pathetic and vomitty– was not the time for her to address a years-old crush.

Because that was all it was, really— a crush on her friend’s older brother.  And Clarke was reasonably sure some part of him still saw her as his little sister’s friend who he had to watch out for.  When she had moved in freshman year he was true to his word, and even showed up to help carry her minifridge up five flights of stairs, much to the delight of most of the women and a sizable portion of the men in her dorm.  But in October when she texted him to tell him she’d run into Finn and his girlfriend in the cafeteria he’d offered to meet her at a coffee shop with his new girlfriend.  Gina was exceedingly sympathetic and encouraged Clarke to draw dozens of cathartic cartoons of Finn getting hit by a bus, but Clarke caught Bellamy’s message loud and clear.  Whatever she thought had passed between them on the bathroom floor that night was just in her head, borne of too much vodka and a stupid crush.  

So she tucked her memories of that night away and moved on.  She was mostly successful, but sometimes it would flare up unexpectedly and she’d wish he’d see her differently.  They were friends now— real friends, who texted all the time and hung out together most weekends— but he had a habit of mentioning how much older he was than her in a way she knew meant I’m not interested.   It sucked, but she could deal.


She finished her beer and took another one from the fridge, hoisting herself up onto the island and letting her heels bang against the cabinets. She watched Bellamy open another beer and quietly preened that he would rather just stand around his kitchen with her, drinking and talking, than go out to the bars with their friends.

Bellamy was telling her a story about one of his professors, laughing at her ribbing and throwing it right back at her, when it hit her: something was different about tonight.  He was standing just a little closer to her than usual, and when she flirted with him he was definitely flirting back.  She’d had just enough beer to feel bold so when he finished with his story she leaned back on her palms and cocked her head to the side.  “So when are we going to do something about this?” she asked.


Clarke stuck her leg out and hooked her ankle around his back, nudging him closer.  “This,” she said pointedly, and his eyes widened.

Bellamy licked his lips and his hand came to rest on her ankle, curling around the bone and then sliding up her calf as he moved towards her.  She hadn’t shaved in awhile and her stubble prickled under his palm.  He stopped just millimeters from the hem of her shorts and he looked down at her.  “It feels— it feels like something I shouldn’t want,” he said, but his fingers were burning into her upper thigh and his eyes were locked on her mouth.

“Why?  Because I’m younger than you?”

“Yeah, that’s basically it,” he said with a breathless laugh.  “But Miller keeps pointing out that you’re twenty-one, so it’s not like I’m robbing the cradle.”

“You’ve been talking to Miller about me?” she said and sat up straighter.  This brought her lips closer to his, but she sensed this was something he needed to come to on his own so she didn’t kiss him, not yet.  But that didn’t stop her from curling her finger in his belt loop and tugging him infinitesimally closer.  Her knees penned him in on either side and his hand came up to cup her jaw.

“More like he’s been yelling at me to get over my hang-ups,” he said, studying her face.  He tucked her hair back behind her ear and swept his thumb across her lower lip.  He looked mesmerized, dazed by their closeness, and she wanted him to look at her like that forever.

“You’re not a creep, you know,” she said even though being this close to him made it hard to breathe.  “You’ve been a perfect gentleman.  Possibly too perfect.”

“And if I kiss you now?  What will that make me?”

“I’m not sure, but I do know that if you don’t kiss me you’re a dead man,” she threatened.  Bellamy huffed out a laugh and drew her face up to his, their lips meeting carefully.  But when she swept her tongue into his mouth he lost all pretense of restraint.  He pressed into her as if he couldn’t bear to have even a hairsbreadth of space between them.

His phone beeped from his pocket and he swore, tearing himself away.  Clarke whined at the loss and he pulled his phone out.  “It’s fucking Miller,” he growled.  “He wants to know where we are, and if I don’t respond he’s going to just keep texting.”

Clarke tugged him back for a kiss.  “Tell him we’re not coming,” she said, and Bellamy’s lips curved into a grin against hers.  He cupped her face in his hands and nipped at her lower lip, and then pulled back once more to tap something out on his phone.

“There,” he said triumphantly.  “Where were we?”

Clarke wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth.  “Making up for lost time.”

The Stylist - Part 2 -Sehun Smut

There was a request for a part 2 of The Stylist. Here is the link for Part 1 if you haven’t read it yet! This one turned out a bit long. Hope you love it. 


Originally posted by veriloquentmind

“I got the job,” I squealed as I hung up the phone.

I had applied to do the make up and styling for a huge award show coming up soon. It was an incredible networking opportunity for me.

Much to people’s surprise, EXO did not tour constantly, although it seemed as though they did. I needed every addition to my resume that I could get during their off season.

I dialed Sehun’s number and told him the news.

“It seems as though I had a stellar reference from an idiol from one of the performing groups,” I teased.

“Well, yeah. I need my best stylist there. They’re usually pretty quick to agree when we request stuff like that. I was told that I had to share you with other groups, but that’s fine. I’ll have you there. Maybe you can help me relieve some stress before the show.”

I could practically see his smirk over the phone.
A few weeks later, I arrived at the venue for the awards. I stared up at the arena, in total awe. I could not believe that I was about to do make up and hair and dress stars for everybody to see on stage and television.

I got my vanity set up and, one by one, idols started filtering in. I did updos and glittery eyes for a few of the Red Velvet girls. BLACKPINK’s Lisa asked me to paint some dramatic cat eyeliner on her. I was having a blast experimenting different styles on different idols. They were all so kind and a few of them took my business card with them.

I finished spritzing Yoongi’s pastel blue hair with some hairspray when my next client walked in.

He was stunning. He had a huge smile that took my breath away.

Yoongi thanked me and said hi to the man who walked in. He addressed him as “Mark,” and I checked my list to make sure that he was on my schedule.

“Mark Tuan - GOT7”

We shook hands and he sat in the chair.

“I’ve heard people raving about your work,” he grinned at me, “everyone is saying you’re one of the best stylists this year. They had even mentioned how beautiful you were. I was excited that I got to have you.”

He blushed, “have you, as in, I mean, like, stylist.”

I laughed. His embarrassment was cute.

We chat a bit more as I brushed his hair back into a bit of a swoop. I stood in front of him as I sprinkled some texture powder at his roots. I ran my hands through his hair a bit to help it settle.

“Mmm. How much do you charge to just follow people around and play with their hair all day? I could fall asleep right here with you doing this to me all afternoon.” I glanced down to see Mark looking up at me, a flirty smirk across his lips.

“I’ll have to add that to my list of fees. Hair cuts, starting at $55. Color, starting at $75. Following clients around to massage their heads at their whim, market rate depending on season and location.”

Mark let out a laugh and said, “well, how about next weekend, market rate be equivalent to a dinner date with me and we can even avoid the head massages until we get to know each other a bit better?”

I felt a blush creep across my cheeks. It had been forever since I had been out on a solid, proper date. I had been fucking Sehun for a while, but the idea of a real date sounded wonderful.

I nodded.

“Yeah. I think that I would like that.”

I finished his hair and we exchanged phone numbers.

As he turned to leave, he stopped and grabbed my hand. He kissed the top of it and thanked me.

From the doorway, I heard someone clear their throat. I leaned around to see past Mark and saw Sehun with his arms crossed.

“Some of us still need our hair and make up done, yknow.” He looked irritated.

“Sorry, man,” Mark apologized before turning back to me, “I’ll call you.”

He left and Sehun slammed the door behind him. He turned the lock and, quicker than I anticipated, was pressed against me. His hands grabbed my hips and his lips pressed to my neck immediately.

“Woah,” I was caught off guard by his aggressive nature, “woah! What’s gotten into you?”

Sehun was nipping at my neck and unbuttoning my blouse. His hands groped at the fabric of my bra as he spun me around and set me in the chair that I had been styling other artists in all day.

“Sehun,” I started. He would not let me speak though.

“Do you think that I like seeing that? Hearing that? Hearing some other guy ask you out?” He was speaking every other word between intense kisses. His hands were moving so fast they were fumbling over each other in an attempt to undress us both quickly.

To make sure I was ready for him, Sehun dropped to his knees in front of me in the chair. His tongue swiped up my slit, and my head fell back against the headrest. My hand flew to my mouth to attempt to remain quiet.

He lapped at my folds for a moment before focusing on my clit. His tongue expertly circled it, occasionally throwing in the motion of sucking on it as well. I bit down on my lip, hard.

Once I was ready, Sehun stood and lined himself up with my core. He wasted no time in sliding his length into me.

One hand grabbed the back of the chair to steady himself as the other attached itself to my hair. He tugged at it lightly, exposing my throat to him.

His thrusts were sloppy. His usual style was to be sweet initially before moving fast. This time, he was slamming into me right away.

His desperate desire was sexy. He had never acted like he needed to fuck me this bad before. His hips pound into me repeatedly, and my orgasm was building quick.

“Sehun, I’m not gonna last long,” I somehow managed to let escape past my moans.

“Good,” he growled. He licked the pad of his thumb and let it circle my clit. I immediately felt the knot in my stomach come unraveled. My back arched as Sehun quickly followed suit. He came right after me, thrusting a few more times.

“Sehun! I’m so sensitive. Please. Hold on,” I begged before he finally pulled out of me.

We both caught our breath for a second before I asked, “what in the fuck was that?!”

“Nothing. Just our ritual pre-show sex.” He turned away, but I grabbed his arm.

“Did… did seeing Mark ask me out bother you?”

He sighed, “if you start dating someone, I don’t get to fuck you anymore.”

“So, what? I’m supposed to stay single so you can still get what you want out of me?” I was disappointed that the amazing sex was being immediately followed by an argument.

“Or you could just be with me finally,” he snapped. He turned bright right when he realized that the words had left his mouth.

“What?” was all that I was able to say.

Sehun ran his hands through his hair and sighed.

“I just, I’ve wanted to be with you for so long now,” he mumbled.

“I know I’m pretty awesome at a lot of things,” I joked, “but reading minds is not one of them. How could I have known that? We rarely talk outside of your shows and you’ve never hinted at wanting more!”

“Well, here I am. Hinting,”

He closed the gap between us and kissed me. This was a slow, passionate kiss. His hands cupped my face and there was so much emotion behind it.

When we finally broke apart, he pressed his lips to my forehead.

“Be more to me, please?”

You Don’t Own Her

chapter 5 of “Little Lost Soul” ~ Negan x selectively mute reader (Y/N)

Catch up here!

Negan x Reader (Y/N)

2400 words

Warnings ~ Negan language, bit of angst (reader is selectively mute)

Tags are at the end. Want on or off my taglist? Just drop me a note! I am having issues with tags so I apologize!


She turned, starting to head towards the door.

  “Doll!” I stood up quickly, I needed to stop her before she headed out the door. I knew it would probably be a fucking mistake but I had to prevent her from leaving. I grabbed her arm, as gently as I could, but she still freaked. But her reaction was not at all what I was expecting, she didn’t slap or punch me, she didn’t try to pull away. No, she just froze, as still as a fuckng statue. And began to shake.

  I had fucked up again.

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generalmercer  asked:


sarah i love u also everyone check out sarah (aka @linslovelylocks​) poetry on this ^^blog omg ok anyways

“No, no, I am not always the little spoon,” Evan argued, earning even more giggles from you. The two of you were on Evan’s roof, side by side as you stared at the stars. Your fingers were intertwined with his and he pulled your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly between words. “I’m the big spoon usually, right?” 

“You’re the little spoon more than I am,” you giggled, turning to your beautiful boyfriend. “Therefore, you’re the Little Dipper, babe. I don’t make the rules.”

He hadn’t noticed you turn towards him yet. His lips were hovering above your fingers, a grin tugging at his lips as he stared upwards.

“I’m the Big Dipper,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. You laughed and he turned towards you, his eyes lighting up as they met yours. He giggled despite himself, placing a small kiss on your forehead. “You’re the Little Dipper because you’re small and soft a-and my favorite.”

“The Little Dipper is your favorite constellation? Out of all the other stars?”

He nodded, smiling as he whispered, “Because it reminds me of you.”

Evan somehow knew exactly what to say that would make all the blood rush to your cheeks. You squeezed his hand, pulling him closer as you very softly kissed him. You pulled away smiling, his eyes still closed from the kiss.

“God, I love you, Evan,” you sighed happily, further entangling your body with his beneath the stars, his callous fingers tracing down your soft skin. He softly rested his forehead against yours as you held his cheek in your palm, brushing your thumb across his lips.

“I… I love you, too,” he said, blushing in the moonlight as he softly kissed your thumb, his eyes looking lovingly into yours. “For forever and ever. There aren’t enough stars in the sky for the amount of I love you’s I have for you. I just… I think I’m going to love you till my heart stops, there’s… well, there’s nothing you could say to me that would ever make me stop.

Evan could see the tears pooling in your eyes, and he suddenly worried he’d said something wrong. He suddenly worried you thought he was a creep. He suddenly worried he was being clingy and that the next thing to come out of your mouth was going to be you leaving him.

But before he could begin the slew of apologies that were on the tip of his tongue, you kissed him. You kissed him with everything you had. You squeezed his cheeks between your hands and tightened your legs around his and kissed him with all your might.

And he gasped. He froze. You were kissing him and suddenly, you smiled into the kiss. A full, beautiful grin against his lips.

And then he was passionately kissing you back with the same urgency, his hungry hands pulling your hips closer to him as you two fell in love beneath the stars. 

Tuesday / Kojuro x MC

Week 1  


He knows immediately it’s the wrong thing to say the second his hand shoots out to catch her from staggering back into a wooden beam. It’s at once an amusing scene, the Dragon’s Claws pitched forward, like a puppet against his will, steadying his lover with a small pull until she’s upright. Were this any other day he would make a wry comment and they would both snicker, shoulders bobbing against the silhouette of a yawning sun.

But she’s wearing incredulity like a Lady. He sees it in the way her eyes are too big and hears it in the soft breath she puffs out. She’s folding into herself, packing herself away. It hits him then, the realisation that she can’t stand to be around him right now, and an ache so powerful, like a firestorm of heat, shoots up the arm still grasping her wrist and straight into his heart.

“Is this a joke, milord?”

There’s too much at stake today, and he can’t afford to let her run.

“I would not disrespect you like that.”

It’s not what she wants to hear. Her wrist snaps away, and he’s left lurching. He doesn’t know what to do to make her understand.

You can’t ask this of me, her eyes plead.

Don’t be afraid, his reply.

Have you thought this through?


Why would you say that?

It was you who asked, my preciou—

She blinks and glances away. There’s nothing more to discuss.

It is not until later, much later, when she has trudged down the hall and he’s left with nothing but his thoughts and the waning light skipping across the garden, does he feel an inexorable wave crash into him. All at once he has to put his pipe down and place his head into his hands as he quivers against an irrationality he knows deep down to be untrue, but can not escape. It rises until he can’t hear anything beyond a roar, shattering him until he chokes.

She doesn’t want any more, he thinks. 

And even louder,

She doesn’t want me, she doesn’t want me, she doesn’t want me.

He’s not sure how long he stays rooted there, but the Dragon’s Claws should know better. Katakura Kojuro apparently doesn’t. And it’s here he lets out a rush of air, tired beyond belief.


The wind carries her voice to him.

He turns and it hurts to look at her, knowing how she must feel, but he can’t not look at her, not when a lazy breeze flicks her hair and his fingers begin to itch. Autumn, Shigezane is right to say, is her season: her skin takes on a radiance in the orange filter, turning her eyes an unnaturally dark shade, and he has to keep himself from touching her too much.

“That’s what you said.” She’s staring at him like she’s trying to puzzle the pieces together. “I asked you what you wanted from me and you said ‘forever.’”

She plods towards him until they’re standing close together. It would be so easy to close the distance, to kiss her. A snake of heat stirs and writhes in the pit of his belly.

“You should have just asked me to marry you, milord,” she says, soft and wondering, taking him in. “It might have been easier for you.”

“Would you have said yes?”

“You did not ask so I can not say. But if you want forever, then you must give me something in return.”

The flame in him, slow and deep, flickers alive. “And what is that?”

Her eyes twinkle.


And oh if it isn’t the sweetest thing he’s ever heard.

“My precious girl,” he murmurs before sinking to his knees, trembling hands clutching the folds of silk at her hips. “My darling girl, my sweetheart, my dearest one…” Over and over, chanting sweet nothings to her as he buries his face against her midriff like an exhausted child, feeling her hands creep into his hair, tender.

“For the record,” she whispers, and it comes out like a secret, a longing, an oath, “I will marry you.” 

And they both feel it, his slight tremor, but only he hears the roar echoing inside a near bursting heart:

She wants me. She wants me.

She wants me. 

Week 1: Masterpost

  • To @viridian99, and all the Katakura ladies, for a (belated) Valentine’s Day and one very special Happy Birthday. 
Stay: Chanyeol X Reader

(A/N: I really hope this is okay! I took a long time working on it and I haven’t written actual scenarios like this like ever. I hope you like it!)


“Just because you have a dick doesn’t mean you should be one.”

“Why don’t you stay the night?”




This whole situation is awkward.

Why is it always me he calls when he’s drunk?

I took a deep breath and entered the club. This place was definitely not my kind of scene. I looked around until I saw him. He was leaning against a wall, laughing at something one of his ‘groupies’ had said. “I already regret coming here” I muttered, making my way towards the man. “Chanyeol,” my voice squeaked. I hate this place. I want to go home. “Chanyeol, it’s Y/N. Let’s go.” I pushed through the crowd surrounding him and grabbed his wrist. “Woah, woah!” He grinned, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Y/N is that you?” I began making my way to the entrance. “Yeah, it’s me. You called earlier? Said I should ‘come party with you.’” Chanyeol laughed and intertwined his hand with mine, stumbling as we came closer to the door. “Yeah! I ‘member. So why are we leaving? Let’s stay!” We made it to the door before he stopped me, looking down with a pouty face. “Y/N come oooonnnnn. Let’s stay!” “I don’t think so Chan,” I sighed, trying to ignore the fact that he was still holding my hand. “I don’t want you out here in this kind of place. I came to take you home.” “What!? Nooooooo. Y/N don’t be a buzzkill. Come on! Y/NNNNNN!” Chanyeol bitched about not wanting to leave the club, but he followed me back to my car. “Chan, come on. Please? Can I take you home?” I met his eyes, knowing he would probably put up a fight, but he surprised me. Chanyeol’s eyes softened and he let out an exasperated sigh. “Fiiiiinnneeee.” I smiled and gave his hand a squeeze before letting go and stepping inside the car.

By the time we got to his place, he was already falling asleep. He could barely keep his eyes open. “Chan.” I whispered, lightly shaking his shoulder. “We’re at your place.”

“Ah, really?” His eyes fluttered, attempting to stay open. He flashed me a sleepy grin, my heart about lept out of my chest. “Yeah. Come on now, I’ll help you get ready for bed.” I muttered, hoping to god that he couldn’t see the blush on my face.

Why the hell do I find him so cute?

He’s drunk off his ass!

Get over it Y/N…

I helped Chanyeol into his house and got him into his bedroom so he could change. I sat in his living room, waiting for the “okay, you can go home now.”

This is literally like having a toddler.

Or a boyfriend…

Shit what am I thinking.


I slapped my cheeks and that seemed to help a little. I heard the door creak open and saw him. He had on a large white t-shirt and the comic print pajama pants I had gotten him for his birthday a few years ago. “Y/N, my eyes are up here.” Chanyeol smirked. “Oh don’t you wish.” I retorted, trying to hide the smile creeping onto my face. “Oh come ON, Y/N!” Chanyeol laughed, making his way over to me on the couch. He plopped onto the couch, leaning in closer to me. “You and I both know you’ve had a thing for me for basically forever.” I felt my face flush and my heart drop to my stomach. “Excuse me?” I choked out, distancing myself from the tall man. “Y/NNNN,” he cooed, scooting closer to me yet again. “Baekhyun let it slip weeks ago! I knowwwww.” His words were slurring together and an unfamiliar smile made its way to his lips. “We can hook up if you want to.” I jumped off the couch and just stared at him. It was all I could do.

What the actual fuck

I had been head over heels for this damn boy for over a year. And now he’s laughing it off? Acting like hooking up with him would be doing me a favor? “Wow,” I breathed, trying to control my anger. I looked directly at him, watching his smug face. “Just because you have a dick, doesn’t mean you have to be one Park Chanyeol.” I felt slight satisfaction when his face dropped. He seemed to have sobered up at that. “Wait Y/N, what do you me-” His voice sounded disappointed.

Serves you right you prick.

“Chanyeol I don’t want to hear you talk right now.” I said, voice thick with anger. “Hook up with you? Are you fucking kidding me?” He looked down, suddenly ashamed of himself. “You find out I like you, and you think that saying ‘oh hey wanna hook up?’ means I’m suddenly gonna hop on your dick? Think again, you prick.” I sneered, my eyes beginning to water. “Is this why you stopped hanging out with me? Why you only call me when you’re drunk?” Tears began spilling onto my cheeks. “Just because you don’t like me back doesn’t mean we can’t be friends! But you don’t even want that do you? You find out I like you and the first thing you think is ‘oh I bet I can get into her pants!’ Why did I even fucking like you in the first place?” After those words left my mouth I was full out sobbing. Chanyeol looked shocked, his eyes wide open. I stood in front of him, unable to say anything.

I was shaking.

I took a deep breath and held it. Chanyeol still hadn’t said anything. I let out a whoosh of air and stuttered, “I-I’m going h-home.” I started walking towards the door, but Chanyeol was suddenly behind me, hugging me from the back. “Y/N… I’m sorry.” He trembled, burying his face into my shoulder. I felt his hot tears on my back and strained to keep from crying. “Y/N, please. Please stay.” His voice wobbly. I pulled myself out of his arms and turned to him, refraining from showing emotion. “Why would I stay Chan? You obviously just want to hook up.” “No I don’t!” He wiped away at his face. “Y/N, no I don’t.” He took a shaky breath. “Baekhyun and Jongdae told me I should confess to you, but romantically. Not just through words, through like h-hooking up. But I-I can’t think straight when I’m with you and I get r-really nervous, so I thought I could do it if I was drunk. I don’t want to just h-hook up with you.” He struggled to continue, and held tightly to my hand. “What did you want then Chanyeol? It’s been weeks since we’ve hung out with you actually being sober.” My voice came out a lot harsher than I intended, and he squeezed my hand.

My defenses are falling.

Why is he crying this hard?

I don’t understand.

“Y/N, I’m in love with you.” Chanyeol choked out, trying not to cry. I felt like someone had just socked me in the stomach.

He loves me?


Is this some kind of joke?

He does?

“I have been for a really long time now, but every time I’ve thought about confessing I overthink it and chicken out. I want to be your b-b-boyfriend and I’m not very good at expressing that and so I didn’t know what to do with myself and so I accidentally distanced myself from you because I was worried I’d make a fool of myself. Which I just did. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He started crying again and it took all of my remaining strength to not hug him right then and there. “I know I probably just ruined it and if you want to go you can go. I just-” He took a deep breath, “I just really love you and I don’t deserve a chance with you, but I really want you to stay with me tonight. Not sexually. Just stay. I just want to hold you and wake up with you in my arms tomorrow morning.” He let go of my hand and wiped at his eyes again. “But I won’t make you stay. You can go, if that’s what you want.”


I’ve got to be mentally exhausted.

“Ask me again.” I felt the words leave my mouth without my permission.

“Y/N, why don’t you stay the night?

And then I did it.

I walked straight into Chanyeol’s arms, him practically collapsing into me. He clung to me as if I had just spared his life.

I really hope I don’t regret this…

“I’ll stay. But this doesn’t mean that everything’s okay. We’ve got a lot to talk about Chan.” I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him. He pulled me back onto the couch and held me close, his face buried in my neck.

“Okay,” He whispered. “Okay. I’ll make it up to you Y/N. I’m sorry. We can talk talk.” Chanyeol pulled out of the hug and looked me in the eyes. As if he was reading my mind, he reassured me. “I really do love you. Really Y/N.” I hugged him again, closing my eyes and allowing myself to be surrounded by his warmth.

“I love you too.”


“No. Fucking. Way.”

Warren took another sip of his coffee, feeling a blush creeping over his face. “I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.”

“No, no, that’s not it, it’s just…” It was obvious that Nathan was trying really hard not to burst out laughing, but that guy just did not have any self-control. “I just can’t imagine Warren fucking Graham having a ‘bad boy-phase’.”

“As I said, it was like forever ago”, Warren said, regretting bringing this up at all. He was hoping that Joyce would come over to ask if they needed anything else, just to change the topic, but of course, waiters never came to your table when you wanted them to. Then again, maybe she ignored him on purpose because she was still mad at him for graffitiing the table, even though he had done it on accident. Warren just seemed to have a gift for embarrassing himself. Despite all, he was incredibly thankful that Joyce allowed Nathan in the Diner, after everything that had happened.

Nathan sneered. “Yeah, because you’re a fucking adult now, Graham.”

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The editing of Minho in the Who You team was so creepy to me…. like you could see an arm, a knee, a foot, some hair, his reflection in the mirror, and sometimes the others would talk and you just know they’re looking at him. Just like a ghost. It’s gonna haunt me forever (plus the fact he’s garbage)…

I look back on those days and regret none of it, not the risks, not the shame, not the total lack of foresight. The lyric cast of the sun, the teeming fields with tall plants nodding away under the intense midafternoon heat, the squeak of our wooden floors, or the scrape of the clay ashtray pushed ever so lightly on the marble slab that used to sit on my nightstand. I knew that our minutes were numbered, but I didn’t dare count them, just as I knew where all this was headed, but didn’t care to read the sign-posts. This was a time when I intentionally failed to drop bread crumbs for my return journey; instead, I ate them. He could turn out to be a total creep; he could change me or ruin me forever, while time and gossip might ultimately disembowel everything we shared and trim the whole thing down till nothing but fish bones remained. I might miss this day, or I might do far better, but I’d always know that on those afternoons in my bedroom I had held my moment.
—  Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman
BTS: Reaction to their child kicking for them when they return from promotions (Maknae Line)

Here is part two of BTS reacting to their child kicking for them featuring maknae line. I hope you enjoy :)

Hyung line version (x)


Your foot wouldn’t stop tapping and your fingers trembled as you waited for Jimin’s flight to land. Earlier today he told you that he was supposed to land at ten and now four hours later, you were a nervous wreck as you waited for the announcement that his plane had landed. As if the lady was there to answer your prayers, the rough sound of the intercom came and announced for flight forty-seven. Eyes searching for the face of the boy you had been missing for months, you nearly screamed when you saw his body emerge from the gates. “Jimin,” you yelled in his direction as you waved your arm. His eyes grew wide and a smile swept over his face as he walked to you. Both of you hugged each other tightly, each just as happy to see the other. “I missed you,” he said into your shoulder. “I did too,” you said to him, equally as muffled. Staying like that for a moment, you two finally split, although you both wanted to go on forever. While you were each catching up with one another, you felt a tiny thump in your belly. “Ouch,” you said softly as you grabbed onto your stomach, interrupting Jimin’s story about Hong Kong. “Is something wrong?” “I think he kicked.” The silence between you two was filled with expectant hesitation as you both waited for another kick, unsure of what to do. Sure enough, the baby kicked again and the surprise was evident in both your faces. “He’s never done that… I guess he’s excited to have you back.” “And I’m just as excited to be back,” he said as he rubbed your stomach lightly, kissing your temple gently. 

Originally posted by yoonmin


“Do you want more food?” “You’ve asked me that three times in the past ten minutes. I’m fine, I ate before the flight. It was delicious, but I can only eat so much,” Taehyung said as he rubbed your head softly. “I’m just making sure what happened last time doesn’t happen again. You were so hungry all because you decided that playing rock, paper, scissors with Hoseok over who got the window seat was more important than eating.” Rolling your eyes, you rose to clear the table and placed all the dishes into the sink. “Let me help you.” Quickly getting up out of his seat, Taehyung joined you by the sink, rolling up his shirt sleeves. “It’s okay, you’re probably tired. You should go lie down,” you said as you shooed him away. Without ever leaving your side, he simply turned on the water and began scrubbing away. You knew trying to get him to relax was impossible, so you huffed and helped him out. “Can you pass me the towel over there,” you asked him. As you waited for him to hand the towel to you, you felt a slight pain on the right side of your stomach. Groaning, you doubled over, grabbing the counter top for support. “Are you okay? What’s wrong,” Taehyung asked, nothing but concern in his voice. “Nothing, my stomach was just hurting for a second. I’m okay now, I think. That was weird.” Assuming that was your cue to sit down and rest, you began walking to the sofa, but on the way there, you felt the pain again. Grabbing your stomach, you felt a slight thump on the left side of it. “Tae! Tae, I think she’s kicking!” Running to meet you, he looked at you, waiting for confirmation. “Here, feel it.” Placing Taehyung’s hand on your belly, you both wait for her to kick again. Once Taehyung felt the thump, he couldn’t stop the smile from creeping on his face. “I can’t believe this, oh my god. She’s kicking. Has she ever done it before?” “No, this is her first time. Maybe she’s happy your home,” you say. “If me being home makes her that happy, I’ll never leave,” he said as he hugged you.

Originally posted by jeonthegreat


You had been anticipating Jungkook’s return for what seemed like forever. Months and months of “a few more months and I’ll be home” made you miss him even more. Consequently, you wanted to make his return as great as possible. Earlier, you went out and bought decorations. Streamers, confetti, a cake, the whole nine yards. “He’s at the door,” you mouthed to Hoseok, who was crouched behind the couch. You had invited him over A) to bring the cake and B) to help you decorate. He told you he wasn’t buying a cake and not eating at least one piece, so you and him hung out while you waited for Jungkook. Unlocking the door and placing his bag on the couch (which unintentionally hit Hoseok in the face), he flicked on the lights and was more than surprised by you and Hoseok popping out. “Welcome home,” you both yelled as Jungkook tried to calm down. “Thanks, but you didn’t have to give me a heart attack as a present,” he said as he walked over and hugged you both. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, look! I bought cake. I’ll cut it,” Hoseok said as he rushed over to the kitchen and pulled out a knife and plates for everyone. As you all ate your cake, you asked Jungkook how his trip was. “It was so much fun, I wish you could’ve been there, seriously.” While Jungkook talked more about his trip, you felt a pound in your belly. It happened fast and wasn’t very painful, but you’d never felt it before, which caused you to gasp and drop your fork onto the floor. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine, I just felt something in my stomach,” you said. “You have a fetus in your stomach, I’m pretty sure you should feel something,” Hoseok said while stuffing his mouth with another piece of cake. Glaring at him, you returned your attention to your stomach, placing your hand on it cautiously. Upon Jungkook making sure you were okay again, you felt another pound. “Wait, talk again.” Jungkook opened his mouth to question why he needed to talk again, but the look in your eyes told him to just do it. “What should I say,” he said. Moments after Jungkook spoke, you felt it again. “He’s kicking for you.” “What?” By now, Hoseok was watching the interaction as well, curiosity taking over him. “He’s kicking. He only kicks when you talk.” “S-Should I stop talking? Does it hurt?” Shaking your head, you waited for the kick and just as expected, it happened again. “Wow, that’s cool,” he said as he put his hand on your belly, waiting to feel it himself. “I suppose I’ll have another boy running around in Iron Man boxers soon.” “Hey, we said we’d never speak of that,” Jungkook softly yelled as Hoseok broke out into laughter.

Originally posted by jeonbase

Masterlist | Requests are open!

Caught Pt.2 - Grayson Dolan (Requested)

Peep part one: here 

Warnings: Swearing

Happy reading ;)

It’s been weeks since you last saw Grayson, or even Ethan for that matter. You kept the ring he left and the note, you continued to read it over and over again and each time you did you ended up crying yourself to sleep. Life without Grayson was miserable. You haven’t seen Ethan since the day Grayson left and honestly you could care less. Like yeah, you cared for Ethan and he was attractive but the feelings you had for Grayson was nothing like any other. You felt so stupid for giving into temptation, giving into Ethan. And because of that, you lost the one thing you loved the most. Grayson.

You started to sob once more as you replayed the way Grayson cried when he walked out, the cold devastation written all over his beautiful face. ‘You did that to him’ you thought to yourself. That was all it took to make you angrier with yourself than you’ve ever been. You picked up the pillow from your bed, throwing at the wall then screaming into it. You hated yourself more than you ever have. ‘How could you just break his heart like that? You ruined him. The look on his face said it all.’ At this point you felt as if your thoughts were slowly eating you alive. 

“Hey, Hey. Woah.” your best friend said suddenly as she rushed into her spare guest bedroom. Ever since Grayson left you decided to go to your best friends for a while. You just couldn’t be alone in your own thoughts after everything that happened. You know you needed company, and just like always she was there to give you some. “What are you doing Y/N?” “I don’t know anymore.” you huffed. She walked over to you, and sat down on the guest room bed. “Y/N, screaming and throwing pillows at the wall won’t get Grayson back.” she said while glancing over at you. “Oh, thanks.” you said in a sarcastic tone. 

She let out a long sigh before continuing on with her words, giving you a concerned look. “Look Y/N, I know you love Grayson. And I know you didn’t mean to do what you did. I mean hell, if Ethan Dolan tried to get with me it would be nearly impossible for me to turn him down.” you rolled your eyes and looked down at your fingers, playing with them. “Not helping.” you mumbled out. “What I’m trying to say is that I know you. I know you’re a good person and you have good intentions. And sometimes people fuck up, it makes you human. I would be a horrible best friend if I just sat here and didn’t try to get you out of this.” you suddenly popped your head up, having somewhat of an idea of what she was going with this.

“What are you trying to sa-” “Basically Grayson is downstairs waiting to hear you out. Whoops?” “HE’S WHAT?” you yelled. “Shh. He can hear you, you have no time for questions. Just go get your mans back and thank me later.” she gave you an encouraging nudge and a wink. ‘What would I do without her’ you thought. You double checked yourself in the mirror to make sure you looked somewhat presentable before heading downstairs. You couldn’t lie, you were nervous as hell. You could practically feel your heart beat out of your chest, a similar feeling you received when you first met Grayson. 

As you walked down the stairs, there he was. Your heart broke more, if that was even possible. Grayson looked pale and miserable. You didn’t see his normal happy, confident self. All you saw was sadness and pain. ‘Fuck Gray. I’m so sorry’ you thought to yourself watching as the man you love started to look over at you as you walked down the stairs. You made your way all the way down, walking towards him. It was silent for about 30 seconds before you absolutely lost it. “Gray listen I’m so so sorry and I can’t believe I did that to you I’m such an idiot you’re all I’ve ever wanted gray I love yo-” your rambling was soon cut off by a pair of lips hitting yours. You kissed back, shocked by his choice of action. 

He then broke the kiss, his lips still lingering on yours as he pulled away. He then placed his forehead on yours, closing his eyes. “Please just come back to me Y/N.” he whispered, the hurt prominent in his voice. You pulled your forehead away from his, looking into his eyes. “But I don’t deserve you Gray.” you whispered back, looking down at your feet. He lifted your chin up as he started to speak. “I’m willing to forgive you. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” he let out a sigh before he continued. “Just please promise me you’ll never do something like that to me again. I don’t think my heart can handle it.” “I promise Grayson, I love you so much.” 

“We need to make a real promise to each other. Do you have the ring?” “Yes, I found it on the floor. It’s beautiful gray.” “I knew you would like it.” a small smile creeping onto his face. You had to admit, seeing him smile even a little bit meant everything to you. You pulled the ring out of your pocket where you’ve kept it since you found it. He took the ring from you, holding it up slightly. “When I put this ring on your finger, it means we both promise to stay faithful and love each other forever. Okay? Repeat after me.” You nodded your head and repeated his sentence. 

He then slowly slipped the promise ring on your finger once he heard you repeat the sentence, not breaking eye contact. 

 “Now please come home?” he whined leaving you giggling. 

“Of course.”