i am crying a well of tears

hermione still flinches when ron’s hands brush her neck and she doesn’t understand why she does, because the cold, metal sting and everything that happened later, is painfully different from his soft palms. she stops wearing perfume, and starts casting protection charms.

remus despises his nature so much that the scars on his body are from his own hands. he knows what the taste of wolfsbane is when it doesn’t quite work; bitter and unmistakably sweet—it’s sirius’s blood when he goes too far.

ginny’s hands shake uncontrollably when she writes for hours at a time. the words will start to swim across the page and mix and scramble into anagrams. hi, i’m tom. what’s your name? hi, i’m tom. what’s your name? hi, i’m tom. what’s your na—

pansy knows what it’s like to cast unforgivables on first years. she learns how to enunciate the words with refined perfection, and learns how to want to hurt them. she throws up in the abandoned washroom after every lesson, and finds comfort in the absent arms of moaning myrtle.

ron faints everytime he apparates. he’ll wake up in hermione’s lap; his hair wet against his forehead, and his arms heavy with sweat. he always reaches for his shoulder and visibly relaxes when blood doesn’t rub off his fingers. he doesn’t know how to control his anger either, and feels the shame creep into his skin whenever hermione looks at his chest. he knows that she’s looking for the locket because he wishes that was what he could lay his blame on.

tom falls in love at the age of twelve—watched glimmering jewels glide down his own hand and pool at the bland tiles in the orphanage; started fires just to keep things lively. he collects followers like sheep in a mindless herd and finds that the acclaimed intricacies of a human brain is much more dull than he had imagined. he holds fear like a baby would with a blanket and spends nights wishing he had more time. he dies knowing he never had enough.

draco knows what it’s like to have your mind violated and out bare for all the world to see. he remembers severus saying that veritaserum has no taste, and discovers that he was wrong. the so called non dimensional potion is much too similar to the taste of the silent pleas he shouted when he watched snatchers salivate at the sight of his mother, or the copper droplets of red that sprinkled the surface of his cracked lips when he watched children slaughtered in the blink of an eye.

sirius has spent his entire childhood without the warmth of a mother’s embrace or the reassuring words of a father. he tells himself he’s okay with it—that he would rather have no family than one that wished his friends dead. he doesn’t know what to think when he has neither family or friends alive—the only embrace he will ever feel again is the one that lurks behind bars in his azkaban cell.

luna stops searching for wrackspurts, and instead, starts organizing her fathers office. she should be relieved when people stop calling her loony lovegood but all she feels is the absence of her imagination. war, it seemed, was not an adventure, but an old friend that came at inconvenient times in history.

harry doesn’t want to start a family because every father he has ever had has been hurt at his own expense. ginny rocks his body against her chest and brushes the tears away from his eyes as soon as they fall. she tells him that he’ll learn how to be a father—that it will come as naturally as magic had. the sharp pain that lodges inside of him whenever albus retreats back into his room is reflected so blatantly on ginny’s face. he wishes that he were a blind man so that he never had to see his mistakes out in the open, and rubs at his fading scar.

despite the years that had passed, it seemed that all was not well.

Me on my way to Korea to give Taehyung the oscar that he deserves for his tremendous acting performance as Hwarang’s sunshine, Hansung

The Signs Hold a Crying Baby

Aries: WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WILL IT STOP IF I SHAKE IT MAKE IT STOP WHERE IS THE MOTHER

Taurus: Keep your tears inside your eyes where they belong, you pathetic excuse for life

Gemini: Continues the one sided conversation, “so I said to Tom, I said Tomas, that’s MY fucking sandwich- wait, is it okay to cuss in front of a -what am I saying, you don’t understand words yet- anyway I said to him…”

Cancer: *is the Crying Baby* 

Leo: Worry not, I will calm you with my talent for, uh, singing, “rock-a-bye baby in the -” baby: *screams louder* leo: okay well, fuck you too

Virgo: Gross pls tell me this thing didn’t poop OH MY GOD IT POOPED GET IT OFF GET IT OFF

Libra: Smiles and patiently calms the child, artfully hiding their discomfort and disgust, thinking “why the fuck do people keep making these things I hate them I hate them I fucking hate them ughh”

Scorpio: *glares* shut the fuck

Sagittarius: Tbh if you were my kid, I’d probably “forget” you in a shopping cart at the grocery store… shit, where is your mother? Don’t tell me she-  HEY LADY, YEAH YOU, COME GET YOUR KID

Capricorn: Calmly sets the child down and walks away forever

Aquarius: According to some scientific studies, crying indicates that in later life, the infant will adapt qualities of…

Pisces: Me too, kid. Me too.  By the way, it only gets worse from here…

→ through the flames (and into the lava)

Originally posted by kookielife

pairing → Jungkook x Reader

genre smut, fluff, slight humor, crack || dragon!jk, fantasy!au i guess

☆ warnings  public indecency, dry humping, fingering, non-penetrative sex, cumplay, i’m sorry

☆ word count  → 7.8k

Your boyfriend is a dragon.

Or so he claims.

or; the perks (and unexpected complications) of dating a fucking dragon

Keep reading

The Signs Hold a Crying Baby

Aries: WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO WILL IT STOP IF I SHAKE IT MAKE IT STOP WHERE IS THE MOTHER

Taurus: Keep your tears inside your eyes where they belong, you pathetic excuse for life

Gemini: Continues the one sided conversation, “so I said to Tom, I said Tomas, that’s MY fucking sandwich- wait, is it okay to cuss in front of a -what am I saying, you don’t understand words yet- anyway I said to him…”

Keep reading

I Am Not Doing You

Request: @crownie-sr   Hello Ms. Taw, Would it be so kind if you could a Bucky drabble for #44 because I WOULD LIKE TO DIE FROM READING ONE OF UR WRITING BECAUSE THEY TOO GOOD FOR MY FUCKING EYES

Prompts:   44)  You didn’t do the dishes, I’m not doing you.” ( I changed a little bit, I hope you don’t mind)

Words: 1170

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Fluffy and a little bit of smut but barely.

Thank you @widowsfics  you are the best and i love you.

As soon as you entered your apartment you knew something was wrong, the place was too silent and too cold for your liking. Your heart broke when you saw your boyfriend cuddling up with your pillow and blanket in your bed. 

He looked so vulnerable right now, he was relaxed but at the same time, he looked like he hadn’t slept in ages. Your heart breaks a little because he looks so adorable, that you can’t help to lay next to him and trace your fingers in his jawline and hair. 

Even being asleep you can see how tired he is, he has bags under his eyes and he still has his scruff for a few days ago. You plant a kiss in his forehead making him moan, you doubt that he even knows what is happening right now “Wake up, baby. I am here and I love you.” You say softly, making him know that he is safe.

Keep reading

•A JOURNAL ENTRY: WHAT IS IT REALLY LIKE TO LIVE WITH DEPRESSION?•

i wouldn’t exactly call it living. more like surviving… i look at the environment surrounding me, memories lie tattered in my brain. a life i want to believe was once so full and fruitful has become unthinkably dull. my own eyes were once baby blue but have since faded to an iridescently eerie gray. im hurting. it hurts. im not lying.

i would tell you that you don;t understand- but i;ve begin to notice that everything can only be interpreted in relation to other things or feelings. and this is the only thing ive come to recall feeling. this ethereal delicate coldness within my core, shaking and rattling my bones, consuming my every feeling of functionality. im clearly broken beyond repair- yet i aimlessly crave fixture.

i am light with awful lightness. my blood is mud and my bones are brittle. my thoughts freely cascade within my mind, setting fire to all of my precious sensibilities . any meager ration of purpose and hope is replaced by these fucking reminders that i am truly and entirely 113% alone in this.

at one point, i wanted help. i went to therapy once a week- on bad weeks i went twice. i convinced myself that the glass was half full. i made the most out of everything- and in the process, i made a fool of myself.

i spoke out. i cried for help. i wrote it in books, on forums, i would have carved the words “help me” into my damn skin on my damn forehead if i thought for one minute that anybody was listening.

and i know you’re listening if you’re reading this. but are you really reading this? are you reading me? can you feel the pain in the tips of my fingers, in the ends of my hair, in the blood in my veins, in the staggering cry of my voice at 2 in the morning- an ugly face soaked in the tears resulting from years of utter and complete destruction and then desertion of every little thing i feel?

can you feel my pain?

can you imagine trying to fall asleep when there are actual fucking faceless voices in between your ears jabbering an unimaginably taunting cry? whispering demented nonsense into your ears nonstop after you beg and plead with yourself to quit hearing those damn voices. your mind races like it’s been training all its life and this is the moment it has all led up to: the olympic event of self destruction. and it’s taking home the gold.

i close my eyes and i am so unbelievably tired. staying alive is a fight and today it has beat
me to a pulp. my eyes have bags as big as my regrets and my face is tired from
pretending to light up with joy all day.

jesus christ, it’s my junior year and i’m graduating in less than a year. surely there is one thing to even half way grin about. no, you are wrong. because for every good little thing that happens- every time it seems like it’s getting better, every false sense of hope, for every good thing, there is depression.

my false sense of hope has found its home. depression is a polite host to every single good
feeling in my body. depression feeds me, it cleans me, it loves me, it speaks to me, it knows me.

depression wants to stay forever. it houses in my bones, it feeds on my fears, it gets high on my anxiety, it exchanges hope for hopelessness, it thrives on my insecurities, and depressions favorite thing to do is to keep me up on nights like tonight, where i’m at my worst.

i’m scared, truly. i used to be obsessed with the seasons- more importantly, the transition of one season to anther. perhaps i used to be so fond of change because change was actually a possibility at that point in my life.

winter turning into spring was my favorite. i would lay on the dead, crunchy, brown remnants of the grass, the air around me crisp and cold, stabbing my lungs with every swift,
sharp breath. my nose rosy and cold, sniffling along every chill within my body. bare branches of tall oak trees
stretched into the white winter sky, seemingly reaching for the sunlight the tree craved and needed, as my pale, cold, minuscule hands clutched at the dry, barren earth beneath me- fumbling for more meaning of the world around me. why must seasons change, but my heart always feels the same?

you see, i resonate so very deeply with the winter months. gardens and patches of land that were once beaming with flora and fauna, life and expounding sunlight and warmth, now lay isolated, empty, sterile- similar to the child in me that once was jubilant and lively, but now turned into some thing so cold and ugly. the innocence has beend lost and the happiness within me has since been destroyed by the monster within me, which claims not only me as a victim, but those around me who love and care about me

i only know that i am loved and cared for because i’m continuously and perpetually told this upon a daily basis. it has become very prevalent to me that people feel much better about me when i validate that i know that they are here to talk and that i am loved. yes, i know this. but i cannot feel it. the love that you have for me is, in the least offensive way possible, absolutely irrelevant to my entire being.

you could listen to me rant for days upon weeks, you could read this bible that i’m typing. but i can never seem to make the people around me realize that i am never going to truly accept the love they offer me.

i often wonder if it is true love that inspires people to be there for those with depression- or if those surrounding me simply feel compelled to profess their love and support to me because they see my approval and wellbeing as a direct reflection of their credibility as a friend or family member.

i feel as if i am a burden to those around me, simply harshening the seemingly good mood that literally everyone else but me is capable of partaking in. i want to run with wild horses, frolic among wild flowers, hear the laughter of a child, hold hands with someone i love, and entertain deeply fulfilling and life changing relationships- but you see, the way my life is set up- i am actually emotionally incapable of doing so!

i am most aware of my unfortunate illness and incapability to be happy in the most unexpected and irrational times. take birthday parties, for instance. celebration and good vibes fill the air around me, seeping into my black, pitiful lungs. everyone around me smiles and sings, drowning in their jubilation, as i sit and watch. i want to have fun. please believe me. i want to sing happy birthday. i want to watch you open your gifts. i want to be as happy as you. i want to feel the warmth in my cheeks as i have the time of my life with my friends. but some thing within me compresses each and every slither of joy i am capable of feeling. i am suffocated by the downfall of my emotions and i am blinded by the reminder that depression doesn’t take breaks, not even at birthday parties. depression is strongest whenever you are faced with situations that expose you to the reality that you’re the odd one out- you’re sticking out like a sore thumb. you’re moping and you’re constantly staring out into space. what are you even looking at? what do you have to think about? you have nothing to live for, so anything beyond what’s right in front of you has no relevance in this whole scheme of life. so take it or leave it. you should be enjoying this birthday party. all the other kids are happy. you should be too. you’re lucky you even left the house today. so lucky. had you stayed home, you would have been 100% alone with your thoughts, rather than 97% along with your thoughts, due to the constant interruption of your moping and resentment by peers and parents and teachers asking “is everything okay?”

habitually, you nod. yes. everything is fine. i’m doing well, thank you. but what is the meaning of life? why do i feel like there’s a big fat man sitting on my chest and stomach and heart all the time? why do i always feel like i’m the only one in the room holding back tears trying not to cry? why are the other kids so happy? am i missing out on some thing? why do i feel so sad? why is it that every time i’m surrounded by people who say they love and care for me, i feel as if i’ve never been more alone before in my life? why? do you pity me? it’s just who i am. is that weird?

and oh my god i was always so desperate to be different. perhaps it was just the way my personality was set up. and i was always fairly extroverted. but it was presumably a persona that i put on. hey world, look at me. i’m silly and creative and ill say things that nobody else would say. pay attention to me, look at me.

because i needed them to watch. i hope you never feel so out of control of your body as me, to where you feel as if the only way that you can be saved is if other people figure out that you’re dying on their own. you don’t know how to come straight out and tell them, “hey, i really would rather not be alive at this given moment. i have visions of ending my own life. i use self isolation as a coping mechanism at times in order to feel like less of a burden on those who love me. i haven’t felt genuinely loved in a really long time. i’m so lonely. i could really use a friend right now.”

you can’t just say that. and i became depressed at 9 years old. how would a 9 year old even possibly articulate these complex and life threatening emotions that severely alter the way that every one of their peers perceives them. those middle years are crucial for making friends. it’s at that age that you have to find a group of 3 to 8 people who accept at least half of your given characteristics and occasionally invite you to partake in shit that kids do.

i wouldn’t know. i was a fleeting spirit. appearing and disappearing from cliques like it was clock work. there was more than one willow. there was the catty, witty willow- that found self-approval and approval from others by teasing and belittling others in order to build her own confidence up. then there was the sweet, flower child willow that sold daisy chains on the playground at recess at the price of one hug. there was the willow that stayed near the teachers at times because it was obvious that the other kids wanted nothing to do with her.

and as time progresses, the newer evolution of willow became prevalent. the willow that kept to herself most of the time, spending recess in the class room alone, drawing on the pages of her books, talking to herself, worrying her life away. everyone wondered - what was wrong with willow? or perhaps nobody noticed at all. maybe i was so insignificant even at such a young age- that the only time people considered me was in my dreams.

depression changes a person. some times, the change isn’t even tangible or noticeable to those surrounding the victim. some times, it is a slow discourse of the destruction of the spirit. it can slowly creep into your ear one ungodly night, and forever more whisper its awful lies into the victims ear, as it infects their whole body, their heart, their mind, their spirit, their hands, their eyes. everything. it slowly progresses into the uncontrollable loss of feelings and motivation to even maintain basic proper hygiene. it makes everything feel pointless. things are no longer worth the effort because you’re going to die no matter what, and that can’t come soon enough.

yes, depression can be slow and progressive. but that’s not the worst. the worst depression is the kind that sneaks up on you out of nowhere in the dead of night and immediately stiffens every hair on your body and turns your blood cold, making your mouth dry and your tongue numb. this depression hits you like a fucking train. it hits you in your most vulnerable state- comfort and normalcy. from that point on, you will never know normalcy again.

depression has a way of deceiving you into believing things that are crazy and untrue. but these things become so real to you as the depression progresses into a lifestyle that you come to know nothing else but the lies that depression will fill you with- so nobody can really tell you anything. it will call you names. it will tell you that you’re better off dead. it will be your only comfort- feeling nothing- during the night, whenever anxiety holds you until you pass out from exhaustion. you will never be cold at night as long as anxiety and depression have you snuggled up in between them.

oh how depression loves to kick you around and belittle you. oh how it renders your fantasies pointless. it loves to keep you hostage- to the point where any time you get an idea that doesn’t include moping around in your own sorrow, it immediately renders that idea impossible and reminds you that you are depressions bitch. you eat when depression finishes telling you how fat and disgusting you are. you sleep all day, so depression can take a dip in your nightmares. you wake up, and realize that life with depression is the true nightmare after all.

you pray for the day that you are relieved from this blinding madness and this subliminal torture. you feel as if you are not only a burden to your own self, but a burden to the people who love you and care for you

the only times when depression allows you relief from questioning the ulterior motives of those around you who claim to love you and care for you is when depression instead allows you to feel ashamed of your affliction. when you’re depressed, people notice. they may pretend not to and they may ignore it. but they know. they just don’t know what to say.

what would they say anyways?

hey. i’m sorry your brains are figuratively dripping out of your ears and i’m sorry that you have convinced yourself that i only care about you because i feel guilty, and i’m also sorry that you don’t even have the motivation to take a shower. i’m also sorry that you don’t
remember the last time that someone made you feel special. i’m sorry that you can’t find a reason to smile. i’m sorry that out of all the millionaires, the talented ones, the ones who fall in love, and the ones with nice asses- you were the one to end up hating yourself and everything around you.

ask yourself…. what do you say? what do you say to someone who is depressed?

know that i understand that you don’t know what to say. because yes this sucks. and i don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to wish you were dead. and i am so jealous of you for that. but please treat me the same as everyone else. please love me. make
me laugh. invite me to go shopping with you. get shit faced with me. help me fill the gaping hole in my soul with pointless memories of laughter and small talk. talk about life with me. listen to what i have to say. let me love you.

yes, i have depression. trust me, i will never forget! but please, help me feel normal. i don’t want to feel different than you. i want to be your peer, not your charity case.

i am dying to make friends. i am dying to spend less time in this bed writing shit like this. i am tired of letting this god damn disease walk all over me like i’m a fucking patch of dead grass.

life sucks. but please remind me that winter fades to spring. please remind me that some flowers are seasonal, and not every flower spends its whole life in bloom. remind me that you have to spend time in the dark to understand just how beautiful life in the sunlight is. remind me that there’s no cure for a bad day like a strawberry daiquiri and deep, controversial conversations with complete strangers.

remind me that my car has a sunroof and that it’s okay to open it up and let my hair get a little messy. remind me that music is better when it’s too loud to really interpret what the artist is saying- but you don’t have to understand to feel some thing.

remind me that i don’t have to lose this fight.

i am fucking hurting. but for the love of god, i’m begging you to help me fix me. because i forget that there’s good in the world. i forget that depression isn’t the boss of me. i forget that i have the whole world in my hands. i forget that there’s life after high school and that it’s okay to be alone some times, but it’s never okay to be lonely.

i will never forget what it is like to have my heart ripped out by a disease that i can’t even lay my hands on. perhaps i can touch the blisters under my eyes from
crying so much. perhaps i can run my hands along the holes i’ve punched in the walls from being so angry with myself. and yes i can feel how my bed is sinking in towards the ground because i spend so much time laying here trying to feel some thing besides utter destruction and loneliness. i can never forget what this disease has done to me. there will always be a piece of my heart that this depression has stolen from
me.

but with loving other people, i can aimlessly work to mend that hole. i can’t do it alone. i need a friend. i need you here with me.

i am so tired of being alone.
i will push you away at first. i may come off as helpless and a bitch. but please, that is the depression talking. it’s not willow.

willow loves the color pink
willow loves wild flowers
willow loves the smell of green onions
willow loves the feeling of sand under her feet
willow loves hearing about your childhood and how you had a speech impediment and a cat named angel
willow loves the smell of rain when it hits a hot sidewalk
willow loves to go barefooted
willow loves establishing connections with animals
willow loves willow, some times she just can’t see it

i need a gentle reminder of what it’s like to be a real normal teenage girl

this shit is hard. and being misunderstood makes it harder.

so i’m saying it loud and clear. my name is willow and i have clinical depression and generalized anxiety. my life has been a series of almost laughably awful events, which have resulted in said mental illnesses. i have been misunderstood, bullied, neglected, and hurt. but my story does not end here. i may never completely overcome my depression, but i will overcome my failure to acknowledge my illness. i will work to educate people about those who suffer as i do. i will help those with depression. i will be the friend that i have never had, but always needed, to anyone who wants it. i will be a testament to the depression that has oppressed me for 8 years now.

depression is not who i am. depression does not define me. what defines me is the fact that i am staying alive even though it is proving to be the biggest struggle that i have ever encountered, and i am asking that you help me and people like me. because it’s not a one person job.

my name is willow. and i’m telling you that depression is a rude ass bitch. but i’m a bigger bitch, and unlike my illness, i have the power to make people feel loved and valid. and i will use that power to overcome my depression.

i would like to dedicate this journal entry to everyone reading it. i may go to school with you, you may be just a random tumblr user, you may suffer with depression, you may suffer with some other deeply oppressive situation, you may just be a happy son of a bitch.
it doesn’t matter who you are. let this. journal entry be a testament to your life.

there are people with depression. and there is no way that i can ever explain to you just how it feels via tumblr text post or even via socratic seminar complete with gardens of text books and instructional videos. all i can say is that in this life, you are responsible for being there for the people around you.

you never know what someone is going through. people with depression practically have licenses and 4 year degrees in the field of putting up facades of being okay and sucking it up and repressing those explosive emotions. they don’t expect you to give a shit about them, because as far as they’re concerned, nobody has given a shit,
nobody currently gives a shit, and nobody ever will give a shit about them. they make it hard to help. but it’s so important that you break down those walls. and some times, all you need to do is smile at someone or invite someone to eat after school or to go to a party. you can’t do much for someone with depression. like i said, they’re a whole world away. their concerns and struggles are immaculate, indescribable. however, it doesn’t take much to show someone that you care even a little bit. even if it’s just picking and giving them a random flower.

if you suffer from depression or know anyone with depression and you need someone to look to for advice/help/inspiration, my DM’s are open. oversharing is caring. i know what it’s like to want to take your own life, and i fought the urge to do so even while writing this journal entry.

i am here for you. you are not by yourself. please DM me if you ever need someone to send you pictures of a cute animal to cheer you up, or if you even need me to talk you out of suicide. i know both feelings.

if you’re reading this,
i challenge you to go out of your comfort zone. yes you. i challenge you to do this one easy thing at either work or school, or out in public or in your family

1. pick 3 flowers, they can be store bought or you can have picked them yourself

2. give one flower to someone who you worry might have depression

2. give one flower to a random person who you don’t know

3. give one flower to a person you would like to get to know better, you never know when someone desperately needs a friend


it’s just a flower, but you could save someone’s life. some times, all people need is a gentle reminder that good things still exist and that somebody is thinking about them.

don’t be the person that assumes too high of a role or makes an excuse to not be able to participate in this challenge or share this journal.

you never know when you can save someone’s life.

remember: no matter who you are, i love you. and i am willing to comfort you in times of need. i’ve been where you are. and i know how much ass depression sucks.

my DM’s are open, and so is your future.
don’t end your story this early.

—  Willow Scalisi 4/18/17 (dam i just realized sonic got half priced burgers today, turn up)

im scrolling down tubgle.hell.edu. i see a post. “reblog this if you aren’t homophobic”, it says. “well obviously im not homophobic,” i think to myself. “i am a lesbian.” i continue scrolling. no more than three seconds later, my door is pummeled down. the entire lgbt stands before me. “you homophobe!” they say, tearing up my belongings and spitting on my face. as they drag me away, i begin to cry. i guess i really was a homophobe after all.

<< Previous | Part 5 | Next >>
Heaven Sent index >> 

On his last day, Shouyou made the best kind of mistake.

He’d joined Kageyama on the exercise field regularly. So far this had mostly consisted of more races, a few tosses of the spear-like javelin, and one ill-advised wrestling match that hadn’t been very strenuous, as far as wrestling went, but had still ended with Shouyou panting and red in the face, pinned to the ground under Kageyama within moments. It was not a bad place to end up, but it was still dangerous for Shouyou’s resolve, and he hadn’t asked to try again.

His attempts to persuade Kageyama into showing him how to throw a discus were a different matter.

Shouyou had been fascinated by the sport, unable to stop thinking about it in the days since he’d first seen Kageyama’s perfect form as he moved through the motions. But six days was hardly enough time to grasp the basics, let alone become competent. This made Shouyou very impatient.

“Not that one,” Kageyama said, the instant Shouyou went to grab a full weight discus, instead of one of the lighter practice versions he’d been using up until that day.

“It’ll be fine,” Shouyou said. He lifted the disk and puffed out his cheeks, adjusting his stance at the surprising heaviness.  

“Oy.” Kageyama squinted at him. “Do you remember when we first raced, and I told you to take off your shoes or you might fall, and you said—”

Keep reading

Songbird-Ch.3

Mystic Messenger Mafia AU

║ch1║║ch2║║ch4║║ch5║║ch6

Word Count: 1,350

~I had to split this chapter up for lengths sake! But here you guys go! ^^ This one wasn’t graphic, but the next one will be.

“Plot? In MY FIC? It’s more common than you think”…lolololol


     He was an old man. His clothes were visibly worn and in his leathery hands he held a tattered piece of cream colored paper. His milky eyes searched the walls as he walked, admiring the paintings and moldings, the various vases and art pieces.

     Without even the slightest creak from them, he walked through another set of large wooden doors that were opened for him, and into the room where he faced three young men. He coughed a bit as he inhaled cigar smoke, coming from the youngest man. Just a boy, in his eyes, with red hair peeking from underneath his cap as he sat leisurely in a chair on the side of the room.

     Closer to the desk sat a well-dressed man. His suit must have been worth more than the he made in a year, the old man thought. His leg crossed over his other, and a look of interest on his face as his eyes tracked the man’s walk towards the desk.

     His hands were shaking at seeing the Don. He sat in a large leather chair behind a mahogany desk. His suit was white and contrasting against his blue hair and eyes. The eyes that were dull but searching the old man in a serious manner.

     The old man made his way slowly to the side of the desk. On weakened knees he began kneeling down and kissed the back of the man’s palm before standing up and taking a few steps back. The Don’s face remained calm and unyielding.

     “Why have you come to me, today,” he asked the old man.

     While his voice was soft, it was surprisingly commanding. His right hand was caressing his thick cane like a habit as everyone stared at each other in the quiet room. The old man suddenly felt light headed at the realization of where he was at.

     His calloused fingers shakily held out the paper to the Don, before being snatched up by the dark haired man at his side.

     “You did not meet us as first ordered in our first letter. Do what you please. It is immaterial to us, money or death. If you want to save your life, tomorrow have $1,000 ready. Two men will go to present themselves to you. You will give not less than $1,000. Thus you may stop us from persecuting you as you have been adjudged to give money or life. Woe upon you if you do not resolve to buy your future happiness, you can do so by giving us the money demanded…otherwise we will set fire to you or blow you up with a bomb. Consider this matter well, for this is the last warning I will give you,” the dark haired man read, “at the bottom of a page is a black hand drawn above a coffin.”

      The room was thick with silence for a moment. Even the red haired man had pulled the cigar from his mouth and finally sat up straight in his chair to listen in. V did not seem phased.

     “And what would you like me to do,” V asked the old man.

      “I have been loyal to you for many, many years…I am old. The convenience store I run is enough to feed my family, but…I can’t afford to pay this money! Who could? I have a daughter…grandchildren, all dependent on me. Please…Don V…have mercy on me and my family. Help us…” his eyes are welling with tears as he speaks, but he does not cry.

     “This is the first time you have come to me for help. You have never invited me to your home for coffee…”

     “What do you want of me? My home is yours. My business is yours, please…” the old man pleaded through weak breaths and shaking hands.

     “You want our protection,” V states.

     “You understand everything, Don V,” the old man grovels.

     “If you are offering your friendship…your enemies are my enemies. Our enemies…My men will make sure you are safe. They will fear you, as they do us,” he explained with an unchanging and hard face.

     “Please. Accept me…be my friend. I want nothing more than your friendship,” his voice cracked a moment but he bowed nonetheless and brought the Dons hand into his own, bringing it to his forehead.

     V nodded in agreement as they brought the old man out by his arms at first, before gently guided him out of the room.

     “You will owe me,” V called to him in a flat tone of warning.

     When the man had disappeared from sight, Jumin stood up from his chair and placed the letter down on the desk in front of V.

     “We should get to the bottom of this as soon as we can,” he explained.

     Elizabeth 3rd had jumped from his lap with a meow and trot across the floor, jumping up into V’s lap. Though his face was unchanging and unmoving, he pet her with his free hand as he leaned in the chair.

     “I’m aware, thank you,” he nodded.

     Saeyoung had removed the cigar from his mouth and stood up to pace the room. Though V had seemed calm, he was worried. No one had ever challenged their territory before. Families knew to stick to their own sides and keep to themselves. His brain was working in overdrive trying to imagine who could have the balls enough to challenge them. Had he ever seen the symbols before? No, if he asked around enough, perhaps someone would be familiar…

     “Who do you want to me assign to this,” Saeyoung asked.

     “Whomever,” V waved his hand, “who do you trust most?”

     “Lucky and…Kitten,” he scratched his head as he thought about it.

     Jumin, who had been taking a peek outside the blinds behind V’s desk, flooding the room with light before he stopped to face Saeyoung, stepped away. His face was full of concern but V still seemed stoic and unmoving.

     “Kitten, hm,” he asked with a cynical chuckle, “you’ve been getting closer to that one. Any particular reasoning?”

     “I’d tell you, if it were any of your fucking business,” Saeyoung shrugged with a smile. 

     They were in a stare down across the room. Only the jingle of Elizabeth’s collar could be heard in the silence. Even the body guards had left them to their privacy.

     “I believe it is. Since where you put your dick affects this organization-“

     “Enough!” V commanded.

     Both of them jumped as his cane smacked down on the wooden desk with a loud snap. Each of them quieted down, awaiting his next words. V couldn’t stand either of their bickering. It made it hard for him to call on them both at the same time. And he needed them both. V was quiet, his mind rampant with thinking about what would be coming in the next several weeks. Though he remained calm and silent about the inner workings in his mind, he knew it was going to be tough times ahead. The ominous feeling swallowed him like quicksand.

     “Saeyoung, what are you waiting for? Get going,” V said sternly before he watched Saeyoung leave the room in haste. He took note of the annoyed scoff he made in Jumin’s direction before he left.

     V stood from his chair and headed for the drink cart at the side of the room. His cane tapped slowly in front of him with each step. His sight wasn’t completely gone. In fact, he considered himself lucky he could see as much as he did.

     “It’s getting worse, isn’t it,” Jumin remarked, his tone had a hint of pity laced within.

     “You have to help Saeyoung. He’ll be head of the family soon…I can’t have you two at each others throats like this,” he sighed.

     “V-“

     “Jihyun,” he cut Jumin off, “we are alone now, after all,” he replied with a smile.

     “Jihyun…I’ll do my best. I’ll advise him the best I can. But shouldn’t you tell him?” Jumin asked sincerely.

     “In due time…thank you, old friend,” V took a sip of his drink.

Not Over You Too.

GUYS! I AM NEVER DOING A PART TWO TO ANYTHING EVER AGAIN lmao this had been one of the hardest thing I have ever wrote because I just couldn’t’ get everything to sound very smooth and I had all of these scenes and words in my head but trying to string them together beautifully had been a challenge.

This is back due to popular demand (lol, not really – you guys asked and initially, I wasn’t going to write a part two and this could probably be read as a stand-alone aka you don’t need to read part one to understand) and I honestly, hope you will enjoy this because this is over 2k words of I’m not sure what I was feeling when I was writing this! 

Thank you so much for your warm messages and responses to NOT OVER YOU. I would love to respond to all of your messages regarding NOT OVER YOU but I have a lot so I’m just going to respond to you here in one huge chunk of text: thank you so much for your kind words in regards to NOY and for the endless compliments you guys shower me with, I feel like I don’t deserve it but thank you so much!! Love you guys and thank you for the support!

MASTERLIST

Not Over You


 

Originally posted by sddonald22


“Are you still feeling down in the dumps, Peter?”

Peter lets out a sigh, playing with his lunch, contemplating Ned’s question. Peter never thought there would come a day where he would not be able to see you, hear your lovely voice and even see that brilliant, dazzling smile of yours that more often than not made every man (and woman) swoon and Peter has already gone a little over a week without seeing you. He had not actually meant any and all of the things he has said to you before and Peter regrets it – if he could turn back the time, he would.

“I thought you would be happy now that Y/N isn’t bothering you anymore.”

Ned’s words cause Peter to startle and drop his spoon to stare at his best friend. “I – what are – I never said that!” Peter refutes him weakly as he continues to stare at his best friend with eyes wide and heart hammering against his chest.

Ned briefly looks up from his own food, chewing thoughtfully. He swallows and shrugs his shoulders. “You sorta implied it before though.” He points out and Ned watches as Peter seem to curl up in to himself and Ned is a little bit torn between wanting to be a really good friend to Peter and wanting to be a really good friend to you. Being the middle person sucks.

Peter sighs, shaking his head before looking back at his own food. Honestly speaking, Peter never used to think that Midtown High School is a big. He always used to think that it is quite alright (in size – but Peter has always gone to this school so he really doesn’t have much to compare it with) but ever since that very day, Peter has started to hate how big the school feels like. He hates how empty and dull the walls seem to look like and he hates how quiet the cafeteria can get whenever he eats. Most of all, Peter thinks he is slowly sinking in his own depression and heartbreak. Is this what you feel like every time Peter rejected you?

The school only seems bigger now than it had been before because no matter where Peter looks, he is never able to find you. It’s like you really go out of your way to stick to your words in making sure you will never cross paths with Peter ever again.  He also doesn’t actually hate how empty and dull the walls are – they are fine – but he mostly hates how nowadays, whenever he is in the hallway, surrounded by those walls, Peter looks over his shoulders quietly frequently, just in case you decide to come over to greet him like how you used to, almost every morning with a smile on your face without a fail.

The cafeteria is never quiet – it’s always so noisy and this is a fact. Peter knows the reason why he thinks it’s quiet; the fact that you aren’t there sitting with Ned and him, chattering mindlessly about the amount of paper work, assignments and extracurricular activities makes his lunch time unappealing and very lonesome. Even though Ned tries his hardest to cheer him up as much as he can, cracking jokes here and there, it’s just not the same to Peter.

Peter can’t seem to find the same comfort he gets from you whenever Ned speaks – it’s really not the same and it hurts to know that you probably don’t even want to do anything with him now. If only Peter stopped you from walking away that day – if only Peter had grabbed on to your arm and tell you of his feelings for you!

Peter feels like the fact that he had been extremely cowardly and blinded by his own fear is probably going to haunt him until he can actually mend his own heart, whenever that may be although not any time soon. Now that you are literally gone from his life, Peter finds the you-shape hole in his heart gradually growing bigger and it’s almost taking up all of the space in his mind too. He misses you and he misses you a whole lot.

The way you would often greet him with that cheerful tone and beautiful smile, the way you would talk to him despite probably having a million of things to do, the fact that despite how busy you are with your own commitments, you always take the time to talk to Ned and him and you have never treated them any differently even if you are more popular than the both of them.

Peter sighs as he stops playing with his food altogether. He picks up the tray, causing Ned to stare at him in surprise because he is still currently eating. “I think I’m just gonna go to class early.” He murmurs and Ned slowly nods his head because there really isn’t anything much he can do to help Peter. “See you later,” Peter nods his head weakly towards Ned and stands up to leave the table.

Your absence strikes him like a kick in the stomach. He loves you. He knows he does. Even if he has rejected you multiple times and probably broke your heart every single time he turned down your offer for a date or confession. Peter knows he loves you a whole lot and he is willing to do anything, everything he can to get you to understand that.

You, on the other hand, had just finished a meeting with one of the teachers when you spot Peter. You immediately duck in to a random, open and free classroom the moment you spy Peter walking down the hallway, looking downtrodden and forlorn. Your heart is racing against your chest and as much as you really want to go see Peter, you know you shouldn’t. You have made a promise to yourself; to try and move on and you are not the type to go back on your own words and promises.

“So,” Someone speaks up, causing you to jump and whirl around to face the person. MJ is sitting at some table, books scattered on said table and she is staring at you with an amused look on face. “How long are you going to keep this up?” MJ asks as she places her pencil on the table. This isn’t the first time she has seen you do this – in fact, during break, she had seen you taking a U-turn from heading to the cafeteria to a random bench outside when you spotted Peter queueing up in line with Ned. “Do you not like him anymore?”

You sputter for a few seconds, trying to find the correct words to answer MJ. Telling MJ that you no longer like Peter would be one of the biggest and hardest lie you might ever have to do and as much as you really want to tell her that you no longer like him, deep down inside, Peter is still pretty much occupying your entire heart, mind and soul. There has never been a day that would go by without you thinking about Peter – ‘has he eaten today?’ ‘I miss him’ ‘I wonder what Peter is doing today’.

“I think you know the answer to that.” You murmur, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. You blink a couple of times as you try your hardest not to think about Peter but it’s really as if the entire world does not want you to move on from Peter. Ever since that day, everywhere you go or turn to, Peter is always there. He might have missed seeing you for a little over a week but for every single one of those times, you have always seen Peter and it hurts you a lot to see him.

MJ shrugs her shoulders before she lifts up her sketchbook. You almost want to smile at the drawing she had made – it was, you assume, of Peter and you and in between, MJ did doodles too but you really did not want to entertain those thoughts anymore, at least not today. “He misses you, you know.”

You freeze slightly before shaking your head. “MJ, please.” You beg her and MJ quietly packs her things, placing them in to her own bag as she readies herself for class. “I just want this feeling to stop.” The tears that well up in your eyes fall down your cheeks – and you start to cry a little bit harder because didn’t you just break your promise of never crying over a guy?

“I just can’t breathe – it feels like there is a bag of bricks on my chest and shoulders.” MJ frowns as she hands you a couple of tissues and you quietly murmur your thanks as you try to dab away your tears. “Are you going to tell me about how stupid I am for crying over him again? Even though I told you before that I was going to stop liking Peter?”

MJ shakes her head, putting her phone away. “That’s your choice – not going to berate you for what you choose to do for yourself, Y/N.” MJ reaches over to awkwardly pat your shoulder and if you hadn’t been crying and feeling sad, you probably would laugh because MJ showing affections is a rare occurrence. “I just want to know why you didn’t listen to him.” MJ looks away from you, grabbing her bag.

Keep reading

It is the 29th of January, and I am eighty-nine years old, sitting in the garden of my Sussex cottage and watching the world’s only consulting detective play the violin. Her blonde hair is a mass of curls and the heels of her shoes are sinking into the grass as she sways and dances with the instrument. Sherlock has been dead for two years and missing him is an ache in my chest, except for those brief moment when I close my eyes and listen to Rose coax his instrument to life, and dream.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” comes the soft murmur as the music stops. “I’m going to have to go soon. Miranda said she might need me to look at this really interesting murder she’s got.”

I nod and smile and get to my feet and-

 I’m standing in a lab at Bart’s and the most unearthly man I have ever seen asks to borrow my mobile and I say yes, and I do not understand in that moment that I will never stop saying yes to this man.

Soft grass under my cheek and Rose is crying as she turns me

I am strapped into a bomb and I am telling him to run, and I do not know that I have just carved out his heart and taken it for my own.

The sun haloes her hair and tears fall on my face.

I am standing in front of a grave and asking for another miracle, not knowing that my miracle is making his way toward me as I stand there.

I try to tell her not to cry. I am not sure if I succeed.

I am standing in front of the man I love with tears on my face, and he draws me close and enfolds me in his boundless compassion.

She smiles at me and throws her phone to the ground and holds my hands in hers. The sky behind her is fading to grey, and it occurs to me to wonder if I am dying.

I am wordless and at the end of my rope, and Sherlock has mercy on me and kisses me and I know that I hold his heart in his hands and he, mine.

She’s speaking but I can’t hear her. There’s a sound like a train whistle, like a summons bell, and I can’t hear her.

I am on my knees and I have just asked Sherlock Holmes to marry me, and he falls to his knees with tears in his eyes and says yes yes yes like a prayer or a song or the only word he knows.

She strokes her hand across my brow and smiles at me again, and the whistle fades.

I wake up every morning for a thousand days and he’s there, sleep-rumpled and happy and smiling at me as though I’d hung the moon.

“I love you, Daddy,” she murmurs as her hand cups my cheek. “Thank you for staying so long, I love you but it’s time to go.”

I’m watching my daughter get married and my husband is at my side and we go home and cry tears of joy on each other’s skin and make slow love in front of the fire.

“Tell Sherlock I love him, and I’ll see you again someday,” my daughter says and kisses my forehead.

I’m standing at the foot of a hospital bed, and monitors are screaming and doctors are shouting but they needn’t bother, he’s already gone. Always rushing ahead, my beloved, leaving me to tag along behind him. Well, no matter, I’ll catch up.

I am adrift in whiteness but there, there is a tall shadow in the distance. A man, perhaps, running. He has his coat collar up so he looks cool, and he’s shouting ‘Come on, John!’ and I follow. I will always follow. My legs are young and strong as they haven’t been in forty years or more, and the head of the man in front of me is dark as the midnight sky, and I am young and he is young and we are young here, together. Forever.

Oh, God, yes,” I say, and I run.

Tags under the cut (hope they work)

Keep reading

Wedding in Hawaii || Part 2

hi. well i must say that part 1 went down pretty well, you all seemed to love it which makes me extremely happy! currently i’m working on part 3 and considering that harry styles just rocked up to the airport in a pair of glasses and a shirt that says “women are smarter” i am going to have to write about that too so get seated loves! i hope you’s will enjoy part 2, it’s really really fluffy and you will cry if you are sensitive. even if you aren’t you will shed a tear or two bc harry’s amazing. ok i shall stop rambling. hope you’s enjoy, don’t forget to like and follow and i think there’s an option to turn on my post notifications as well so if you don’t wanna miss out on cute harry stuff i suggest you turn it on 😘 lotta love, xoxo -b

Part 1 •  Part 3

It was around 12 pm when Harry and I finished our time in the gym that Harry desperately wanted to visit. He said it tends to help with his hangover and I knew about that because he’s done it before, I just didn’t think it helps. For me at least.

Once we got back from our work out session we both showered then got into something comfy to go and hang out in with the others.

Harry was wearing blue shorts with a grey shirt that had an eagle on the front, white sunglasses and a yellow snapback.

I think it was safe to say that he looked stunning. Gorgeous. Absolutely breath-taking. Beautiful.

You get the gist.

While he was literally shining I was looking like trash next to him but I didn’t mind because his beauty was enough for me too.

“I lost count on how many times I’ve caught you staring at me just since we got back from the gym,” Harry told me as he laughed.

We were sitting on the grass because we liked to make a show of ourselves in front of other people. It was chill as we were both having a glass of champagne, not minding one bit that we just got over our hangovers.

That’s how you roll when you’re a wedding guest, right?

“Can you blame me?” I asked him as I brought my glass up to my mouth and took a sip of my cold and bubbly drink. It felt good as it slid down my throat into my stomach, the coolness of it giving me a refreshing feeling for a little while. “You’re quite possibly the prettiest human being here.”

“You compliment me too much. It should be the other way round,” he shook his head which I saw from the corner of my eye. “Sometimes I feel like our roles are reversed.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know,” he shrugged. Wow, thanks for helping me. “I just do. But I don’t mind. It feels good to have someone like you beside me. Giving me compliments when I feel down and stuff, always making sure I’m grounded. I’m glad to have you.”

“You’re gonna make me cry, stop,” I laughed. As the words left his lips I just suck all of them in which totally messed with my emotions. He just had his own way of making me feel all these things and I will never be able to explain just what he does to me. “You deserve it all, honestly.”

“How much do you wanna bet that you’ll be the one to get down on one knee?”

“I’ll be getting down on two tonight,” I blurted out which caused him to just look at me with a smirk on his lovely features.

“Y’know what I meant you cheeky girl,” he squeezed my thigh, his hand eventually going more and more up. “I swear you got more confident ever since we got together.”

“Ever Since New York.”

“Huh?”

“Your song, silly boy.”

“Still don’t know what you’re saying.”

“You said I got more confident ever since we got together. But those are not the lyrics to your song.”

“Oh,” he said. “Oh my godness, baby, really?”

“I’m a proud girlfriend. Did you know that by the way? I’m proud of you. Like, super-duper proud.”

“Thank you,” he smiled and leaned closer, his lips touching mine in a sweet, champagne flavoured kiss.

A small moan escaped from me as he massaged his soft and tender lips against mine, his tongue slightly tracing over my upper lip causing me to open my mouth. Soon enough our tongues were slapping together and tasting each other, the familiar taste of the champagne rolling off of his sweet lips and tongue made my head spin and body shake. 

Our kiss started off totally innocent then ended up quite heated. But I loved it. Every time Harry and I kissed I just fell in love with him more and more.

The heated moment was interrupted when a ball was thrown our way, our lips parting ways quickly with a smacking noise. My cheeks were turning slightly pink as I licked my lips and turned my head where Harry was looking.

“Harry, play with me!” the little girl asked him, well, more like demanded then soon enough she ran away.

She was basically in love with Harry. Her name was Lily one of the men’s daughters, only 5 years old if I remember correctly. She was the cutest little girl I have seen in a long time; her neediness for Harry’s attention reminded me a bit of myself.

I looked back to Harry who was laughing as he was already staring at me with his eyes, licking his lips which caught my attention straight away.

His lips were pink, shiny and kissable. Whenever he would talk I’d sometimes just zone out and admire his mouth, the way he forms each word is just absolutely mesmerising to me.

Well, everything he does is mesmerising to me.

“Guess I better go and play,” he laughed before pecking my lips softly. I put my hand on the side of his neck, biting into my lower lip as I scanned over his face not missing one bit before seeing his little side smirk appear alongside his dimples. “You’re literally obsessed with me, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“I just love you. I’m in love with you. Badly,” I told him what he probably already knew. Wow I loved him so much I would jump off a cliff for him if it meant he’ll be happy for the rest of his life and nothing bad will happen to him.

“I love you so much,” he said as he pressed a kiss to my forehead then got up to play with Lily.

And if I wasn’t an emotional mess before than I sure as hell turned into one the moment they started to play.

Harry had his phone in one hand while his champagne glass was in the other one and Lily was just chasing after him as he jogged in front of her. Their laughter added to the vibe of the people who were already talking and it made the atmosphere livelier and more welcoming to those who only just got to where we were.

Moments later Harry gave me his phone as he continued to play with the little girl. When he bopped her nose and she laughed then he joined in as well my whole heart melted like a big block of butter in the hot weather and I couldn’t stop the semi-loud “aw” rushing out of my mouth.

That was honestly the cutest fucking thing ever.

Lily was so small and Harry was so tall and gorgeous and the way he just messed around with the little girl was so adorable and all I wanted to do was get pregnant and give him a baby. I know I sound crazy but honestly.

He was so damn adorable I wanted to cry in happiness. He was just the man of my dreams. No, wait, scratch that.

Harry was better than any man in any of my dreams ever. Harry was something else.

He was better than anyone I have ever met, he raised my expectations and standards to an unhealthily high bar and I almost felt stuck up for it.

I loved him so much it was quite pathetic and indescribable; he made me so happy I sometimes wondered what my life was like before I got to know him.

“What are you thinking, pretty girl?” his voice was so close to me I almost jumped out of my skin. I wasn’t expecting him to be next to me but I guess my thoughts totally drowned me.

“Nothing much,” I answered finally as I looked up to him.

“Alright, if you say so,” he sat back down next to me, pushing his sunglasses up so that they were resting on his head on top of his snapback. “We have a dinner to attend tonight. Would you do me the honours of being my date for it?”

“I would absolutely love that,” I told him smiling which he returned. “You get tanned so easily I’ll have to get my game on.”

“You’re so fucking competitive,” he shook his head laughing.

“I am. Do you have a problem with that?” I asked back sassily.

“No just know that I will not let you win. I will be tanner than you are by the time we are going home.”

“Is that what you think?” I raised one of my eyebrows, challenging him. “Fifty quid when we get home?” I put my hand out, knowing full well he’s gonna have to pay.

We’ve done this before when we were in LA and I was twenty quid richer when we got back home. I had to raise the bar by thirty to make some profit.

“Alrighty, miss,” he took my hand and shook it. “Fifty quid right as we land at Heathrow.”

I winked at him, lifting up my new glass of champagne and taking a sip. I can’t wait to spend that fifty quid on shit that I don’t even need.

Prompt: “That’s irrational.”

When you first heard the album, sitting with Harry in your backyard, Carolina was one of your favorites. It was catchy and it had good lyrics. It didn’t cross your mind that the song was written about someone else. But when Harry went on Nicks radio show and told the story of the song and who it was about, a wave of anger couldn’t help but overcome you. Each and every time you had the album on shuffle, you skipped it faster than you could blink. When it came on the radio you turned it down. If Harry started singing it, you left the room. You came to hate the song. Hearing your love of 3 years sing about how another girl “feels so good” and is “all i think about” didn’t exactly put you in a position to fawn all over the song. This is what you were trying to explain to Harry when he confronted you about your obvious dislike for the song. 

“I know you don’t like Carolina. Why? You liked it when you first heard it, didn’t you? It was one of your favorites actually. What changed?” He asked you, when he stepped out of the shower, sitting next to you on the bed. 

“Nothing changed. I like the song, its good.” you said coldly. 

“Then why do you go out of your way to not listen to it, and when you have to, you cringe down to the last second?” His voice was angry mixed with a bit of sadness. He wasn’t yelling…yet. You knew your opinion mattered a lot to Harry. And although you didn’t like the song, you figured he deserved the truth. 

“Fine Harry. You wanna know why I don’t like the damn song?” you said and he looked at you expectantly. 

“It’s blatantly about another girl. You’re one of the most private people I know. You wouldn’t go out of your way to put the girls name in the song, put it on the album and sing it on national TV if it didn’t mean a lot to you. So excuse me if I don’t want to listen to my boyfriend sing about how another girl is all he thinks about.” you said getting more and more angry with each word that you said. Harry looked at you and didn’t say anything, so you continued. 

“Harry that song makes me look like a fucking joke. And I know its your music and you have the right to write about anything you want to. But every time I look at you, I see you and her. Every time I hear that song, I think of you and her. And if she means that much to you, then why am I here?”

“Babe…you’re over reacting. Its just a song.” Harry said tears welling up in his eyes, and it was then that you realized that you were crying as well. “I can promise you that she doesn’t mean as much to me as you do. Tell me what I can do to fix this. A song isn’t worth loosing you. I swear, she meant something to me a while ago. And she’ll always mean something to me in the way of a friend. But you…I can’t live without you.”

Now you were full on sobbing, “Then why’d you write the song? Its not a sin for me to be upset about the song. And it’s not even the fact that you wrote the song, it’s the fact that you took the time to expose the girl and make it very clear that it was about her.”

“So you don’t want me to write about other girls and life experiences? That’s irrational. I’m always going to write songs about my life experiences. If you cant handle that, when we can end this.” he said angrily. He immediately regretted saying it when you got up and stormed out of the room. 


“I don’t know what to do Gem. She won’t talk to me, she won’t look at me, she won’t let me touch her. I don’t sleep in the same bed as her anymore, she sleeps in the guest house. Not even in the guest room, the guest house. I feel like I’m losing her, and that can’t happen.” he said on the verge of tears as he spoke to his sister on the phone. 

“How long has this been going on?” she asked him carefully. 

He let out a long sigh, “about 4 days.”

“Honestly, she probably shut down because she feels like you haven’t acknowledged the fact that she’s hurt. Weather you feel like you did something wrong or not, she needs to know that you know and care that she’s hurting. If you haven’t made an effort to apologize to her, she won’t know that. Especially if you aren’t talking. And Harry, you have to admit, if the roles were reversed, you’d be pretty angry, too. I think you both need to talk because it sounds like to me, this argument is a two way street.”


He made his way down the small pathway to the guest house where you’ve been staying for the greater part of a week. You didn’t want to see him, hear his voice, speak to him or anything else. You knew you were overreacting just a little bit, but in your mind, you still had the right to be upset. He rang the doorbell and you automatically knew who it was. It was the first time he had been over since you left the main house. 

“Love, baby, princess…let me in. Please?” and there was something in his voice that you couldn’t ignore, even if you wanted to. You made your way over to the door, and before you could even get it all the way open, Harry pushed himself inside and wrapped his arms around you. You tensed up at first, but then relaxed into this chest, realizing you missed him. You stood there, in the doorway hugging for a long time, the first connection you’ve had with him in days. 

“Let’s talk, yeah?” he asked you sweetly, kissing your nose. You nodded and lead him over to the kitchen table. You sat, not saying anything to each other before he said,

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. When I wrote that song, I wasn’t thinking. I met Townes-”

“Don’t say her name.”

“I met her a few years back. It was just before I met you. We had a few mutual friends and they set us up on a blind date. And I’m not going to lie, I had a lot of fun that night. But she was missing something, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Plus the tour was about to start, so even just after one date, I broke it off.” He explained and you listened intently. “We remained in touch after that and I occasionally still talk to her. But I swear, she’s just a friend. She doesn’t mean nearly as much to me as you do. And when I said she was all I think about, its just a lyric. I don’t mean that literally. I deeply apologize if I made you question my love for you. That was never my intension. Its just a bloody song love. And yes it means something to me. Each and every one of my songs means something to me. But you…I could never express in words what you mean to me. I wrote countless songs about you- so, so many. But none of them bring you justice. You’re just that precious to me.” he said with a dimpled grin and a squeeze of your hand. 

“I’m sorry too H. I overreacted. I shouldn’t have been so jealous. And your music is your music, and I don’t have the right to question your creativity. I’m sure she is a nice girl. She should be flattered. But can I ask you something. Obviously you don’t have to answer.”

“What do you want to know, my lovely?” 

“Is there a song about me on your album.”

He looked at you with a devilish smirk and a gleam in his eye,

“Oh love, don’t you know you’re my only angel?”

(requested by: annon)

It’s A Hard Noct Life (Noct x Prompto x Ignis)

So I was writing something else, but then I saw @kaciart‘s piece http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/163650643813 and had to do the Thing ™. The title was something else, but this felt more appropriate and I’m a terrible person. Also head’s up that there’s blood.


Noct’s crying.

There’s no way Prompto can’t hear the restrained sniffles that escape the tough guise Noctis tries his damndest to keep up as he’s stretched out on his stomach across the Regalia’s backseat. The Advisor isn’t immune to the heart wrenching weeping either, gloved hands grasping the steering wheel so hard that he knows his shaking knuckles must be white beneath bloodied leather.

Keep reading

❝ I know, but I am your idiot ❞

Plot: Jungkook jokingly makes fun of you and hurts your feels but makes it up to you 

Pairing: Jungkook xReader

Words Count: 2,1k+

Genre: Slightly angst/ Fluff

For Anon, I hope you like it cutie!

 - kyu.

Gif isn’t mine, credits to the owner!

Originally posted by jengkook

‘Jagiya!!!’ A voice called through your apartment.

‘In here!’ You called from the lounge.

Your handsome boyfriend came walking in with a smile on his face, ‘And just where I left you.’

‘Ha-ha-ha, very funny.’ You mock, jumping up from the couch and into his arms.

He happily received you into his warm embrace as he wrapped his strong arms around your built and lifted you into the air. With one fluid movement, he spun the both of you as your legs wrapped around his waist. Coming to a stand still, you both looked into each others eyes before he closed the gap between the both of you. You accepted his soft touch, as your lips moulded together and he inserted his tongue when your lips parted for him. He tasted every inch as if it was his first time.

Air being needed, you pulled away and pecked his nose, ‘How was America?’

‘Oh sweetheart,’ He carried the both of you to the couch and sat down, ‘It was amazing. Like the language was slightly hard but Joon hyung helped us every step of the way. I wish you were with me!’

‘You know I would have come if I could.’ You stroked his face, ‘I missed you a lot.’

‘I miss you too.’ He replied, brushing your short hair out of your eyes before a teasing smile spread on his face, ‘Yah! Why can’t you have long hair like normal girls?!’

‘You know that I don’t like long hair.’ You rolled you eyes.

This hadn’t been the first time Jungkook teased you about your choice in having short hair. You liked the way it looked on you and to be honest, it was less admin compared to long hair. It wasn’t as if your hair was cut in a boy hairstyle, but being Jungkook, he didn’t ever take that into consideration. You loved him very much, but his childish qualities made you want to run into the wall sometimes.

‘And why can’t you wear skirts and dresses like other girls?’ He joked around once again.

‘Because shorts and jeans are more comfortable.’ You rolled your eyes.

He placed a hand on your leg and tugged at the material slightly, ‘More like sweatpants and pyjamas.’

‘Only when I am home!’ You retaliated, anger running high and feeling hurt, ‘Did you comeback from America just to point out what it wrong with me?’

’Well n-no Y/N -’

‘If you hate the idea of how I dress and look, then why are you with me?’ You pushed him away, tears brimming your eyes, ‘I am sorry that my comfort and choice of clothing does not suit your ideal type, Jungkook.’

‘Jagiya, I-’

‘I’m sorry that I am not like those female idols and models. I AM SORRY THAT I AM NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!’

With that, you ran towards your bedroom and slammed the door with a swift lock, ‘I was just joking….’

Throwing yourself on the bed, you sobbed into the pillow that still lingered with his scent. Angry and pissed, you threw it towards the chest of drawer located close to the door. The object hit a picture frame that came crashing to the ground, shards of glass decorating around the wooden frame. Clutching your legs to your chest, you cradled yourself as the tears flowed from your eyes. Crying, a knock came from the other side of the door.

‘Go away!’ You shouted, ‘Get out of my apartment right now!’

‘Jagiya, I am sorry.’ He apologised, resting his forehead on the door while his fist still stayed attached to the wood ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just joking.’

‘Well you have a pretty cynical way of joking.’ You sniffed.

‘You are just so cute when you get all upset.’ He tried to lighten the mood.

‘Then I must be fucking adorable right now!’ You seethed, ‘Just get out!’

‘But you tease the ones you love!’ He tried to reason.

‘LEAVE!’

Sighing, he walked away from the door. Message after message, he flooded your phone.

I am sorry baby!

Please let me in? I never meant to hurt you, I would never do that on purpose!

BABY PLWEAAASSEEE! You know I will beg until you let me. You are my one and only, I tease you because I love you. Baby please….

Eventually the messages stopped going through and he figured that you switched your phone off. Every now and then, he would knock on your door and you would scream and shout at him all over again. Jungkook teased you a lot, and you were okay with it. This time just made you feel lower of the low. He had just visited a different country with thousands of beautiful woman and was surrounded by dozens on a daily basis. It felt as if he was comparing you to something you knew you could never become. You were a simple girl studying animation, nothing more and nothing less. Just mundane.

‘Baby?’ He knocked for the fiftieth time as two hours passed before an idea kicked in, ‘The spare key!’ Running to the counter, he opened it up and found the treasure, ‘Bingo!’ Back before your door, he unlocked it with a victory ‘Jagiy….’ He faded out at the sight of you passed out on the bed, ‘Aish, why did you cry yourself to sleep?’

Stroking the side of your face with his index finger, he pulled the sheets back and tucked you in. You snuggled into the sheets and all but smiled when you felt a pillow in your arms. It was the one you threw away. Jungkook pecked your forehead and walked to the shattered frame on the floor. Clicking his fingers, he ran a few errands before coming back to your place an hour later. Slowly you shifted and sat up, rubbing your eyes. Blinking, you noticed a bunch of roses on your chest of draws alongside the picture. But it was in a different frame. Slowly the door opened and Jungkook peeked in.

‘You awake.’ He beamed, pushing the door more and entering with a tray,

‘Did I not ask you to leave?’ You crossed your arms, glaring at him.

‘You did,’ He agreed, placing the tray down, ‘But you know I don’t listen, I am the maknae at the of day.’

‘I don’t want to repeat myself, Jungkook.’ Your voice cold.

‘And neither do I. I made your favourite by the way, but it’s hot so be carful.’ He motioned to the cup of steaming hot chocolate on the bedside table.

‘Jungkook…’ You were about to complain before he placed a finger on your lips and silence you.

‘Enough with the threats, okay?’ He stated, ‘Listen I am sorry for what I said. Sometimes I speak and think you will understand what I mean, but this time I was wrong. So wrong that it caused you pain, and to be honest baby, I hate myself more then anything. The fact that I made you cry made me want to run into moving traffic.’ He held your cheek, brushing your hands over the tear stains, ‘Those tears should never be anything but good happy ones.’

‘But-’

‘Let me finish. Yes you aren’t an idol or model, but I do not care! If I wanted those types, I would be dating them. Y/N, we have known each other since junior high and I have never been the happiest when you agreed to be mine.’

‘I’m so plain and boring.’ You sighed, pulling away from his touch.

‘You say that, but I see a girl who is interesting and different.’ He encouraged, ‘A girl that doesn’t care what anything thinks,’ He leaned in and brushed his lips against your, ‘A girl who makes me proud and happy that she is mine…and only mine.’

You leaned in thinking he was going to kiss you but he quickly scooped you in his arms, flinging you over his shoulder ‘Yah!! Kookie, put me down!’

‘No,’ He looked behind him with a warm smile, ‘I am still apologising.’

‘Still?’ You asked him with a raised brow.

‘So first, we are adorned with a bouquet of beautiful roses,’ He walked by the drawers, ‘The scent that lingers on you everyday and makes me feel like I am floating. Second we are confronted with a picture of you and I. The picture taken on your senior dance and one of my favourite moments I have shared with you so far, and with many more to come. The frame is a sleek black one because of the dress you wore.’

‘You are so cheesy.’ You huffed.

‘Oh baby, you don’t even know the half it.’ He walked out the door.

Your nostrils were ambushed by the scent of sweet smelling fumes and was lightly light with fairy lights. The furniture was rearranged and pillows scattered on the ground. In the middle lay a tray of all your favourite foods and drinks. The TV was on and before it laid a bunch of DVD’s which were all animation. Walking in, you still hung on his shoulder before he got into the centre of the room. Placing you down, he circled his arms around your waist and kissed your neck as he stood behind your body.

‘Before us we see the setting of our first day,’ He reminded, ‘The night we made a blanket fort and watched movies all night with laughs and amazing food.’

‘Kookie…’ You whispered, all anger seeping out.

‘The movies on the floor represent you and I.’ He pointed at them as you removed yourself from his hold and picked up the films, ‘And since you learning to be an animator as well.’

‘Lady and the Tramp?’ You asked with a raised brow.

‘You are my lady, elegant and beautiful while I am the run of the mill tramp.’ He pointed out.

‘You aren’t a tramp.’ You chuckled before picking another, ‘Tangled?’

‘What more then an artistic girl and a goofy man who fall in love through adventure. I want to have many with you Jagiya.’

‘Beauty and the Beast?’

‘A little rough around the edges but I have found my beauty who will turn me into the prince.’

Tears slowly began to well in your eyes as you looked at movie after movie, finally looking at one with a cocked head, ‘Big Hero 6?’

‘You will always be my Baymax, to hold and comfort me through the hard and rough,’ He knelt before you and kissed your forehead, ‘Someone who will never give up on me and always make me feel better.’

‘Jungkook….’ You sniffed.

‘No more tears…please.’ He pressed his forehead against yours, ‘I have caused enough pain for one day.’

‘But this isn’t pain,’ You looked at him, ‘This is tears of happiness, the only tears I am allowed to shed remember?’ He nodded in agreement, ‘But why are you doing this?’

‘What?’

‘Showing me all this love after I wanted you out?’

He chuckled with a hearty laugh, ‘Because you are my Princess and I am nothing but the little frog that will make you happy even if you don’t see it quite yet.’

‘Princess and the Frog reference?’ You asked with a raised brow.

‘I would say its my life motto, but sure, movie reference it is.’ He kissed your nose.

‘Neither,’ You said softly, ‘You aren’t a frog. You are the handsome Jungkook whom is my prince and man I love with every ounce of my heart.’ You admitted, ‘I am sorry for snapping at you…’

‘No I deserved it. I shouldn’t have said what I said, it was wrong of me and I am the one sorry for teasing you.’

‘Well you know what they say, you tease the ones you love.’ You smirked

‘Yah! That isn’t fair, I said that and you wanted to throw me out your house!’

‘That shows how much I love you.’ You smiled, brushing your lips against his and closing the deal with a sweet simple kiss.

It was nothing but a pressing of your lips in his. There was no movement at all, just the two of you frozen and soaking up each others presences and warmth . He had done a lot to make it up to you and proved that he was dearly sorry and loved you will every ounce of his heart. You felt his thumb stroking your cheek as you pulled apart and looked into his eyes deeply.

‘You are such a tease.’ He said softly.

‘Says the pot to the kettle.’ You shrugged your shoulders, standing up with him in tow. He laughed as he shook his head and lifted you in a tight hug, ‘You are such an idiot sometimes.’

‘I know, but I am your idiot Y/N. I love you….’

So I was just watching Moana for like, the 37,242nd time and as I was watching it, I imagined Damian watching it as well. I mean, just imagine:

  • Damian praising baby Moana for helping the new born turtle first before getting what she wants
  • Being frustrated when Moana’s father threw away The Heart of Te Fiti
  • SHEDS A TEAR WHEN THE GRANDMOTHER DIES
  • “I am not crying, there’s just butter in my eyes from this popcorn.”
  • He looses it when the grandmother turns into a stingray
  • “SHE GOT THE RIGHT TATTOO!”
  • Acting like he hates it when everyone bursts out in song but hums along to You’re Welcome
  • “If Moana did not make that jump in the cave, she would’ve died.”
  • “That chicken is useless.”
  • He takes back what he said when Heihei eats the Heart of Te Fiti, I mean come on, Heihei basically helped Moana save the heart many times just by swallowing it
  • He HATES Tamatoa
  • “All that shiny is covering his ugly.”
  • tries to fight back his tears when Maui talks about his real parents
  • Is very disappointed in Maui when he leaves Moana in the middle of the ocean
  • Looses it again when the grandmother and the ancestors appear to give Moana motivation to keep going
  • Is proud of Maui for coming back to help Moana
  • His jaw hits the floor when the ocean splits open for Moana as she walks towards Te Ka/Te Fiti
  • That’s when he starts crushing on her
  • grins when he sees the entire village on boats, grandma’s stingray, and Maui in giant hawk form
  • Even though everyone knows how much he likes Moana, he still glares at anyone who mentions the movie but that’s just to keep his image
  • “I don’t do Disney.”
  • He has the entire music playlist on his phone tho
Bitten (Baekhyun x Reader)

Originally posted by flesss


Bitten

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Description: You and Baekhyun encounter something in the forest and it leaves you confused if Baekhyun is really telling the truth.

Genre: Smut // Fluff // Slight Angst

Pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Mobile Masterlist | Request


“Ugh.”

That might’ve been the fifth time a groan escaped out of Byun Baekhyun’s body interrupting you as you read. You try not to get annoyed with your friend as you fold the corner of the book to keep your place. If he was going to put a pause on your reading with all his groaning it was better to find out what the problem was sooner than later.

Keep reading