i cropped out the part with his name and phone number because like

She’s Just Not That Into You » Part III (A Harry Styles Miniseries)

Miss the previous parts? Part One » Part Two

As always, this miniseries is dedicated to @stylesunchained. Thank you so much for reading the first two parts!  I hope part three is just as enjoyable for you all.

Let me know what you think! Happy reading.

Originally posted by glamour-divine

Although Harry had been disappointed to not receive your personal phone number, he still called “Megan” the next day to set up an appointment to see you. The earliest you can see him for a consulting appointment is in two weeks, and when Megan breaks the news to him, he nearly chokes on his morning tea.

Two weeks?

There wasn’t a logical way to see you sooner. There wasn’t a way to spin it in order for him to pop into your shop, especially considering he still had to sign the final papers to make the house his. How could he explain to you that he hadn’t quite sealed the deal yet, so you’d be decorating a completely hypothetical space? He’d already felt like an idiot in front of you, getting caught snooping around your bookshelves, and he wasn’t too keen on feeling like that around you anytime soon.

So, he waits.

He busies himself with packing up the items he knew he wouldn’t need: small, decorative sculptures, a majority of his books, the picture frames that littered nearly every spare surface of his home, his summer clothing that he knew would be completely unnecessary for at least five more months. Once he gets news that the final papers are ready to sign and the house is his, he cleans every nook and cranny of his current house, figuring it might as well be good to spruce it up for the new owners. He meets old friends for lunch, he takes his mother out for dinner, and he begs his sister to come over for a movie night.

And, of course, he reads. He reads the book you spoke so highly of, immersing himself within the worlds of each character, wondering which one you connected with most. Did you cry at the same parts he did? Did you have the same pit in your stomach that he experienced whenever the subject matter turned particularly dark? He needed to know what happened next, reading late into the night, promising himself he would go to bed after he finished the page he was on, but knowing he wouldn’t stop until he could no longer open his eyes.

The two weeks pass, but they feel more like a month and a half than they do a fortnight.

When the day of the meeting comes around, he peeks into the storefront, smiling at your name on the door. He meanders around your shop after checking in with Megan. She nods when he states his presence - a meek little thing with big brown eyes and a nervous giggle - and notifies you that “Mr. Styles is here,” via the bulky black telephone on her desk. He can feel the girl’s eyes on him as he walks around, recognizing some of the pieces from your website.

“Hi!” your voice echoes from behind him, your heels clicking against the concrete floor.

Harry turns around, fully expecting a normal salutation to escape his lips, but instead, his voice catches in his throat. You’re wholly professional, the version of yourself he saw in the magazine shoots. Cropped black pants with pointed-toe heels, a blazer rolled up to your elbows.

You look like you run the place - which, of course you do.

“How are you?” you ask before kissing his cheek and bringing him in for a hug.

That’s a bit better, he thinks to himself, remembering how previously, you’d greeted Nick more lovingly than you had Harry.

“Good, good,” he takes a step back from you, hoping your perfume had transferred onto him so he could smell you on him later - so he could pretend that reality wasn’t against him and that your scent was stuck to him for reasons other than a professional greeting. “Yourself?”

“Excited!” you clap your hands together. “Before we go back, let’s walk around a bit so you can get a sense of where I’m coming from, design-wise.”

He nods, pretending not to have already extensively researched “where you’re coming from,” and follows you until you stop in front of the mock room setups, pointing out some of your favorite pieces.

“Marble is really in,” you explain, tapping a stone coffee table. “But I try not to overdo it. If you like the look of marble - if you like this exact table, even - this would be the only marble piece I’d choose for whatever room.”

Taking his chin between his thumb and forefinger, Harry nods, inspecting the table and picturing it in his new living room. He likes it. Come to think of it, he liked everything. And it wasn’t just to appease you - there was no reason to like a chair just because you liked it - but he could envision nearly every piece in his new home.

“Just got these lamps in,” you turn one on. “I’m obsessed with them. Might snag them for myself,” you smile, clicking the remaining lamp on.

“How often does that ‘appen?” Harry smirks, raising an eyebrow.

“More often than it should,” you laugh. “I’m on this kick of deep greens, navy blue, and gold. Realize it’s not everyone’s cuppa tea, but if you see anything you like, there will almost always be different colors available,” you fluff a throw pillow, adjusting its position next to another.

Harry nods, imagining what his new place would look like decorated with a darker color scheme. He’d never been one for bold rooms - white was his go-to, with him being more concerned about how comfortable the furniture was instead of the color of the walls. You’d done Nick’s living room in bold, dark colors, and Harry loved it. It was his home, he’d told Harry. It wasn’t just a place he stayed and passed the time until he found somewhere else to live. It somehow felt right, even in the summertime, which Harry had initially worried about after seeing it for the first time. The home had Nick Grimshaw written all over it, and Harry was envious of how easily his best friend’s personality was packaged within every room.

He’d wanted that for himself, and you would be the one to give that to him.

He relishes in watching you work the room. You’re completely in your element, answering a couple of questions from Megan when the girl timidly approaches, letting her know that she was free to take lunch just as soon as your meeting with Harry wrapped up. You thank a middle-aged man for his order when he stops in to retrieve a rug, running to hold the door open for him as he heaves the rolled-up carpet over his shoulder. You make a joke with him as he leaves, winking at him with a smile and a wave of your hand.

Were you always this beautiful, or had Harry neglected to see how effortless your charm was?

No, that couldn’t have been the case. He’d noticed right from the second he laid eyes on you that you were something special; something different.

You lead him to the back of the expansive store, asking him questions about his current living space, wondering what pieces of furniture he wanted to keep and which he wanted to ditch.

“Oh my gosh!” you stop abruptly in the doorway to your office, clutching Harry’s shoulder as your eyes widen. “I didn’t even ask you if you wanted anything to drink! Water, coffee, tea?” you shuffle to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room, opening it and then closing it again. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I jump the gun sometimes. Get excited over the idea of a new space to transform and all that,” you laugh, rolling your eyes at yourself.

“Water would be great, thanks,” Harry smiles. He tries not to touch a hand to where you’d touched his shoulder, but he was worried you’d burned a hole through his shirt, what with how hot the area felt to him now.

He notices the familiar smell when he walks into your office, nodding his head when he sees that you’ve got yet another Diptyque candle burning on top of a filing cabinet - he can tell it’s pomegranate without even reading the label. He inspects the decor, loving the juxtaposition of clean lines set against rustic elements which make the room feel comforting and clean.

You pull out a chair with brightly colored fabric across the cushions, offering it to Harry before placing a bottle of water in front of him and walking to the opposite side of your desk.

“Okay,” you wake your computer up, scooting your chair closer to the screen. “I normally take clients through my portfolio so they can see the spaces I’ve completed, before and after I’ve gotten my hands on them.” You adjust the large monitor so Harry can view the screen as well. “Does that sound alright?”

“Of course,” he rubs his hands on his knees. “Whatever you normally do.”

You click on a file, asking Harry if he could see the screen properly. You show him your bigger projects - cafes and restaurants, along with office buildings - as well as clients who had hired you to renovate their houses. You mention how you tend to be inspired by patterns and colors, along with custom fabric you use to reupholster vintage, antique furniture.

“Do you reupholster them yourself?” he asks.

“The smaller pieces, yeah,” you nod, taking a sip from the cup of tea in front of you. “Like that chair you’re sitting on. I usually spend my free time refurbishing the pieces I find. I’ve done chairs, side tables, desks - all that,” you go on, clicking open a picture of one of your completed pieces. “Stopped doing the big stuff when my schedule got busier. Now, I work with a father-and-son team and they do the couches and loveseats,” you click again, a picture of you and two men sitting on a couch in what seems to be a workshop. “There we are,” you chuckle, quickly moving on to the next picture.

Harry knows that he can’t ask you to go back - what would you think of him if he’d insisted upon you showing him the picture again, just so he could see the way your legs crossed one over the other at the knee; how you smiled so easily, your eyes bright and your arms wrapped around the shoulders of both men. You were happy - genuinely happy - and it was a look you wore well.

“So which pieces from your current place do you want to keep?” you ask, meeting Harry’s eyes when he looks up from his lap. “If any…”

“Thinkin’ maybe,” he pulls at his bottom lip. “I’d wanna start fresh? To keep consistent?”

“Perfect,” you nod, minimizing your portfolio and bringing up a calendar. “Okay then,” you begin, moving the monitor back to its original position. “I’ll need to see your new place before I do any work-ups for you. Is there a time this week I can come and see the space?”

Harry’s heart jumps at the thought, even though your intent is purely professional.

You’d said the words, though.

You wanted to come over to his house. To his place. To his home.

“All I ‘ave is time,” he smiles. “So whatever works for you.”

Two days later, Harry finds himself waiting for you at his new property, the wintery London rain keeping him indoors as he paces back and forth in front of the large window overlooking the drive. It was just like London to rain on such a day - a day that should’ve been filled with bright sun to match the occasion - but he was used to the drizzle, no matter how much he didn’t agree with it.

His phone rings, the vibration in his back pocket causing him to jump. An unknown number flashes on the screen, and when he picks up, he’s surprised to hear your voice on the other line.

“So sorry, Harry!” your plea causes him to smile. You sound different on the phone - your voice is less smooth, but he lets the sound of it was over him, regardless. “I promise I haven’t stood you up! My shoot on the other end of town ran long, but I swear ‘m on my way! The GPS says ten minutes.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckles. “I’ll be here. Drive safe, alright?”

You say you will and apologize again before hanging up. He grins as he looks out the window, biting his lower lip and furthering the dimples in his cheeks.

You’ve got his number saved in your phone.

He’s got your number now.

Whether it was your business phone or your personal phone didn’t matter. He had a direct line to you, and you to him. Knowing that he’d most likely never use it for reasons other than strictly professional, he felt nearly giddy as he saved your number, creating a new contact for you.

When you arrive, he’s surprised to see that it’s in a van with your logo on the side. Why - based on everything he knows about you thus far - is that the thing to make him hard? And why does his stomach flip so dramatically when he sees you step out of the driver’s seat, dressed in a worn-in flannel and jeans with paint splatters on them? You shuffle quickly over to the passenger’s side, shielding your eyes from the rain. When you emerge into sight again, you’ve got your arms full of materials like folders, tape measures, and a ruler. You laugh as you run up to the front door, shielding your papers beneath your plaid shirt.

How was Harry supposed to make it through the afternoon without a full-on stiffy with you looking like that?

“Hi,” he smiles when he opens the door, the security system beeping throughout the empty house.

“Hi!” you jump into the foyer, trying to catch your breath. “I’m so sorry - I hate being late!”

“Not a problem,” Harry assures you, noticing the pencil tucked behind your ear.

“And I’m sorry for looking suck a mess,” you peel your boots off with one hand, clutching your supplies close to your chest with the other. “Just set up a shoot and didn’t want to be even later in the name of looking presentable.”

Harry looks down at his hoodie and torn jeans, his hair flopping down onto his forehead, “Look more presentable than I do,” he chuckles.

You scoff, placing your boots neatly together, just as Harry did at your flat. He smiles at the unnecessary gesture, appreciative that you didn’t even bother ask whether or not he’d prefer you take your shoes off. Not that he’d have a problem either way - you could traipse mud and leaves all over his new home and he’d thank you for it.

“‘ve got the measurements and whatnot,” he explains as the two of you walk into the kitchen. “The original contractor has the blueprints and sent them over so we’d ‘ave ‘em.”

“Great,” you nod, inspecting the cabinetry from afar. “Think today’ll just be me scoping out the rooms, taking some measurements just to double-check,” you run your hands through your hair after setting down your armful of materials onto the counter. “Not that I don’t trust the contractor’s numbers. I’ve got my own system, though. Years of doing this makes me a creature of habit,” you smirk, flipping open a folder labeled STYLES, H. in bold letters. His heart jumps, thinking that you could’ve been the one to write it. “Wanna help me measure?”

“Of course,” he nods - maybe a bit too eagerly - as you reach for your tape measure and clip it onto the back pocket of your jeans.

The two of you walk through the empty house in your socked feet, Harry remaining quiet until you say something. You inspect each room, writing down how many windows are in each, commenting on where some crown molding will need to be replaced, recommending that the carpet be taken up and replaced with real hardwood to give it a more modern feel.

“Which colors are we thinking so far?” you inquire, unclipping the tape measure. Pulling out the free edge, you hand it to Harry, your fingertips touching his while you cock your head to the other side of the room with a smile. He’s frozen for a moment, willing you to reach out and grace your hand over his once more, but he’s snapped out of it by you walking away from him. He follows your lead, walking to the opposite wall from the one you’re standing against, holding the bulky measure down against the floorboard.

“Like the thought of a dark blue for this room,” he looks around, squatting on one knee when he reaches the wall. “Cozy livin’ room ‘n all that.”

“Good, good,” you grin. “Don’t want you to be swayed by my own likes and dislikes, but I promise you it’ll look good.” You make a quick chart with the ruler you’ve brought on the inside flap of the manila folder, muttering something about always needing to have straight lines, no matter if it was written in on an official document or the inside of a folder. It makes Harry smile, the admission of your quirk. “And if not, we can always change it. Paint is easy to change.”

“Don’t think’ll want t’ change it,” Harry assures, walking slowly backwards with the free end of the tape between his fingertips, crouching down once you’ve met him to measure the width of the room. “Whatever you’ve shown me so far, I’ve loved.”

You peek up through the hair that’s fallen down into your eyes as you scribble more numbers onto the folder, smiling at him in a way he forces himself to remember. His heart pounds in his chest - so much so that he hopes you can’t hear it - and he finds it difficult to swallow the lump that’s housed in his throat.

You work easily together as walk through each room, speaking vaguely about the initial ideas both of you had for the house. You don’t try to sell Harry on one idea or another - you offer a suggestion and if he doesn’t like it, you offer another until he’s comfortable. He feels relaxed, especially once you assure him that nothing is set in stone and that your feelings won’t be hurt if he doesn’t like something you suggest. This is his home, you remind him. It’s all up to him.

“What was the shoot about?” Harry asks as you measure the windows in what will eventually be his bedroom.

“Uneven decorating. Odd numbers look better,” you explain, sniffling slightly. “Always want to have one, three, or five of something, unless it’s like a side table or lamps. But anything on a wall - like framed art or pictures - and table decorations like figurines or candles look best when there’s an odd number of them.”

“You allowed to tell me which publication?” he smirks slyly, leaning up against the wall.

You twist your mouth, trying to conceal a smile. You think on it for a second, tucking your pencil back behind your ear. “Promise not to tell?” you reach out with your pinky, a pseudo-stern look on your face.

“Promise,” Harry links his pinky with yours, trying to conceal his smile by keeping his lips pressed tightly together. How could he say no to a pinky-promise imposed by a gorgeous woman? There were laws against it, he thinks.

“I’m serious!” you scoff, dropping your hand to your side. “I’ll know it was you if you say anything. If you even mention it to anyone - especially Nicholas Grimshaw - I’ll never speak to you again.”

He clears his throat, rubbing his nose twice. He closes his eyes, forcing himself to wear the same stern look you’re sporting. When he opens his eyes, you’re still staring at him intently.

“Swear,” he nods.

“And then you’ve gone and broken a pinky promise, too. Which in my books…” you raise your eyebrows and shake your head with a twitch of your pointer finger in front of you. “It’s HGTV Magazine. From the US.”

“That’s like a major TV channel there, innit?”

“Yeah,” you nod slowly, your eyes widening at the thought. “Now they’ve got magazines. And paint. And furniture. And decor. ‘ve got the market cornered over there. Huge, huge company. Like…massive.”

“And you’ve never been featured in the States, ‘ave you?”

“No,” you nearly whisper.

“That’s a big fuckin’ deal, then!”

“Guess so,” you chuckle, running your hands through your hair. “Thanks for that.”

“Absolutely,” Harry laughs, knocking your shoulder with his knuckles. “Congratulations. It really is a huge deal.”

He knew you were successful, but hearing about how you set up the studio to look like a living room today and would be going back tomorrow in order to get your portrait taken in the room makes him realize just how successful you are. A four-page spread, including an interview on how you’d taken London by storm and your influences would be seen within the American market soon. Their words, not yours, you assured Harry.

As the two of you walk through the rooms on the second floor, he asks how you started within the industry. You explain to him that you went to school to be a financial advisor and specialized in small business accounts. You were a pencil-pusher, you told Harry, and you were stuck in an office all day long. You’d spend your weekends refurbishing antique furniture, finding that you’d had a knack for it. It made you happy - so happy that it was the only thing that got you through the monotony of your work week. Although you loved your clients and always enjoyed the pride that came with their wins, you weren’t especially happy in your job. Something had to change.

After agreeing that all of the light fixtures upstairs would have to be replaced, you went on to talk about how even though you saw how much stress your clients were under running their own businesses, you couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to begin your own business.

“Put my life savings into my first shop,” you flick off the hallway bathroom’s light. “I was eating Ramen nearly every night. Went without electricity in my apartment for a week because I didn’t ‘ave enough money to pay for lights at the store and lights at home,” you laugh. “Feels like such a long time ago…”

You started out selling furniture and other decor items. It was tough, but little by little, you made progress. Eventually, one of your regular customers asked if you were interested in working with her as an interior design consultant for her company. It helped get your name out, and soon you were redesigning spaces for people you could’ve never imagined.

Harry admires how smart and brave you are - he can understand how scary it is to go it alone without knowing the results. He was going through it right now. He was in a more privileged position, sure, but he was still unsure of what the future held, and he could appreciate how much courage it took to start over. It made him look at you in a different light - a light that allowed him to see the struggle you’d gone through, working you way from nothing to one of the best in your field. He’d envied the confidence that you sported when it came to your work and wondered if he, himself, would ever feel that.

Once you’re finished taking down all of the information you need, you follow Harry back downstairs.

“Still raining,” you frown, gathering all of your materials. “Does wonders for the hair.” You pretend to flip it over your shoulders. The natural state of it brought out by the weather makes Harry want you all the more.

“Ye’ look great.”

You tut, rolling your eyes a bit, but thank him nonetheless. “So, ‘ve got to take off,” you state, your body language pulling you back to the foyer. “But I really am so excited to get started on the mockups,” you hop a little. “It’s a beautiful space and we can start from scratch, which is when I have most of my fun.”

“‘m excited too,” Harry smiles.

“‘ll have Megan call you when I’m done with the renderings,” you slip your boots back on. “Should take no longer than a week. So count on next Thursday?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “And congratulations again on the magazine - really is a big deal.”

You tilt your head to the side, all of your features softening. “Thank you, Harry,” you smile coyly. You squeeze him a bit as you hug goodbye, the materials in your arms pressed between the two of you creating a barrier that Harry would rather be without. “I had fun today.”

“I did, too.”

He watches you run to your work van, leaping over a particularly large puddle. He laughs to himself as you struggle with your keys before unlocking the driver’s door, diving into the vehicle with a sigh that he can’t see. He watches as you push your mussed-up hair back, noticing him standing in the front window. You wave with a knowing smile before turning on the engine and backing out of the drive.

It’s that smile - that sly smirk - that pushes Harry over the edge that night.

He didn’t want to touch himself, but he’d been rock hard ever since he saw how beautiful your ass looked in your paint-splattered work jeans as you ran to the car. He didn’t want to defile you in his mind as he stroked himself in the shower, water running down his shoulders and back as he faced away from the spray. He didn’t want to moan your name as his balls tightened, the images of you naked and begging for him littering his mind to the point of no return.

But, he did.

He had to.

Nobody would know - it would be his secret - but if he didn’t jack off to the thought of you, he was sure he’d lose his damn mind.

He pictures you sporting the same upturn of your lips from earlier as you ride him, your flannel from that day still on, yet unbuttoned to reveal your breasts as you grind down against him. You know what you do to him, and your smile tells all. He imagines how beautiful you’d sound as he gripped your hips, slowing your movements to nearly a stop while he pushes up into you, groaning at the gasp you give him in return.

He’d never wanted to be inside someone as much as he wanted to be inside you. He wants to feel your breath against his ear, his name across your lips, your fingertips gripping his shoulders. He wants to know what you taste like - sweet, probably, like the candles you burn. He wants to know how warm you are; how wet he can make you by just the touch of his lips to yours. He wants to hear your moan - feel it vibrate down his cock while he’s in your mouth, that gorgeous pout of yours wrapped around the head of him.

He wants it all, but he can’t have it, so his hand will have to do.

A part of him feels guilty when he cums on the shower wall, his splotchy vision and ringing ears indicating that he gave in too quickly. But, fuck. What was a man supposed to do? You’d smelled so good; your stories never bored him; you were becoming a global success and you’d accepted to work with him.

And your ass? In those jeans?

He was done before he ever began, as far as that was concerned.

He walks out of the shower on shaky legs, a white bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he takes his head in his hands and grunts.

“Fuck’r you on, Styles?” he asks himself.

He leans back onto the covers, his feet dangling off the edge of his bed that he’ll soon replace with another one, based upon your recommendation. He falls asleep that way - sleeps deeply, too, his hair wet and his towel coming undone after he shifts slightly in his slumber. It’s a deep sleep, one that doesn’t produce a memory of a dream, and Harry is thankful for that.

He doesn’t think he could take another night of dreaming of you.

Not if he wasn’t able to turn those dreams into a reality so that his mind could stop wandering day in and day out…

Not if he wasn’t able to get what he wanted…

Not if, he knows, he wasn’t able to make you his.

Sunday (M)

Summary: you were a busy person! Sundays were usually your day off but when your friend asked you out for coffee you were sure you knew exactly why. Sex. You had your regular boys throughout the week, kind of making a schedule for each boy, let’s see if Sunday boy can keep up. 

Words: 7,419 

Genre: Smut 

Warnings: uggghhh thigh riding, fem dom, switch play, orgasm denial, dirty talk lol alla dat n more probably

 A/n: So here it is! The start of my new series fic where the reader respectfully hoes around with a new bangtan member each day! I’ll try uploading each one a week apart from each other on the members coordinating day but I might mess that up bc I can’t control when inspo comes and goes😓 anyway, please enjoy Sunday boy- jungkook💖((( also ps. I changed up the formatting pls let me know if you like this style better😣💖))

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IT’S GONNA TAKE A LOT TO DRAG ME AWAY FROM YOU

Pairing: Reddie with background Stenbrough and Mike/Ben + lesbian!Bev

Word Count: 1904

Prompt: modern, college, soulmate au

Warning: mention of childhood abuse (but only in the past – not major theme)

Dedication: my faves in the loser club gc !!!!

__________

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Soulmate AU! Wonwoo

A/N: I couldn’t find this gif and i gave up trying to find one if there is one. so have a pic friends. also based off of going seventeen ep 2 but i switched some events.
GOD im so lazy writing this w/e sorry for bad quality my dudes

The first time you see your soulmate a red string appears faintly, every time you see them it gets more visible till it reaches a bright glowing red.

  • So you know svt was in LA for filming
  • and how they have free time
  • also how they were recording??
  • so basically who wouldn’t notice a bunch of tall handsome foreigners holding up cameras filming themselves speaking in a foreign language
  • or cameramen?? idk man

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Lucien pining after Pablo

The venue is so packed, it’s nearly impossible to navigate altogether. Lucien has to squeeze this thankfully lithe body between other teens writhing in metal-induced ecstasy. He cringes when a scene girl’s hand accidentally brushes against his arm and redoubles his efforts to leave.

It’s his first real concert for a big time band, and in all actuality, he’d only come because Ernest invited him. The kid wanted to see the band, so he took him to see the band. Simple, but now he regrets it. Lucien can appreciate the music–he loves it, actually, but literally everything else is horrible. It’d be so much easier and peaceful and nicer to just listen to the very same music in his room, honestly.

He yelps when a particularly sharp elbow knocks him in the side. “Hey, watch i–” His voice is drowned out by the hundreds of others screaming as well as the band on stage. Ernest had crawled his way to the front and left him alone, and now he was afraid he might not even make it out alive. Lucien panics when he feels the people he’s trying to squeeze through push back, belittling his progress out of the venue. “Hold on, wait–!”

“Woah, easy there, little man!”

A dark hand grabs his arm, and Lucien’s first instinct is to yank it away. He stops as soon as he sees who it is.

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Too Close Pt. 4

Character: Byun Baekhyun (EXO) 

Genre: idek

Word Count: 2123

(I do not own this GIF) 

A/N: Hello all of you! I know it has been months and you guys probably dont even remember me at this point. So I got surgery yesterday and I am on bed rest. I’ve been having health issues and have been busy with school and I was out of the country this summer. I am extremely sorry but I will try to update more often from now on :) thank you guys 

Originally posted by baekhyuntella

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  


You woke up to the sound of your alarm coming from your phone on the night table at sharply 9:00 am. You were never a fan of waking up early but also wanted to be productive which led you to where you were right now, waking up at 9:00 am on a Saturday. Groaning you sat up, yawning and stretching until you reached for your phone, finally turning the annoying alarm off. Once you unlocked your phone your eyes widened, it was this early but you had 12 missing calls from the one and only, Byun Baekhyun. Getting worried since number one, he never wakes up this early and number two, he never spams you this much unless it’s important, you went to your contacts and clicked on Baekhyun’s, dialing with your heart beating hard at the thought of something horrible happening to him while you were asleep. It had been 5 rings and Baekhyun had not picked up when he usually picks up on the first one. Now you were getting worried, the call went to voicemail after a couple of rings. Getting up from your bed you went to your closet taking the first thing you saw to wear, not even worrying if it matched, your heart pounding and your hands shaking in worry. Without doing your hair or brushing your teeth you left your room and started looking for your keys, as you were looking under the couch your phone rang, your head lifting up in alarm. You reached for your phone and were a little relieved once you saw who it was.

“Baek what’s wrong? Are you ok? I’m on my way to your dorm, please tell me you are ok, talk to me please” You said reaching for the door once you found your keys and leaving your dorm not even locking the door, running at full speed. 

“Everything is wrong Y/N! I don’t know what to do!” He said in a very high pitched whine

Running even faster you got to the elevator clicking the button to go to the first floor.

“Tell me Baek, what happened?” You say clenching your shirt where your heart is and trying to catch your breath while the elevator starts to go down.

“I was supposed to go to a party with Sehun tonight but he cancelled on me! Can you believe that?” He said annoyed

Your mouth hung open and a sigh of relief left your body, after you took a couple of seconds to recover from the scare of your life you heard Baekhyun on the other line.

“Y/N? Did you hear me? Now I have no one to go to the part-”

“You are such an asshole Byun Baekhyun, wait until I see you, you are getting whipped” You said after the elevator doors opened with a ding sound, getting off and clicking the button to go up once again.

“Oooh Y/N, I didn’t know you were kinky like that” He said laughing

“Not funny Byun, you almost made me have a heart attack. I ran out of my dorm so fast” you said looking down at your feet “I’m not even wearing shoes oh my god Baek you are really going to get beat when I see you” you said surprised because you didn’t even notice your lack of shoes until now. 

Guilt struck Baekhyun, not being able to believe that you ran so fast to help him, forgetting to wear your shoes along the way.

“Are you okay?” He said turning a lot more serious after the possibility of your feet getting hurt.

“Physically yes, emotionally still recovering” You said matter of factly

“I’m sorry” He whispered, a whisper that was almost inaudible but you heard it, being used to the guilt that came after any mischievous act Baekhyun did.

“You know I can’t be mad at you for too long” you said with a sigh “Anyway why did you spam my phone with like 100 calls before?”

“And you call me exaggerated, it was 12 calls Y/N! 12! not 100, that’s like” He tried doing the math in his head “a lot less than 100!”

You chuckled going inside your dorm and laying on your couch after the mild heart attack baekhyun put you through.

“Anyway Y/N” he said putting emphasis on your name “I called you because, like I said before your murder rant, Sehun cancelled on me and we were supposed to go to this huge party tonight, at Kai’s house” he said

“And that should matter to me because?” you said getting annoyed as he was not getting straight to the point.

“Because you are going with me!” He said too happy for your liking

“Said who?” you sassed “Look Baek I love you and all but you know parties are not my thing, drunk guys trying to grind their way in my pants? No thanks I pass, just ask someone else”

“I did! But no one wants to go with me” He whined very loudly, too loudly, into the phone

“Glad to know I’m your last choice Baek” You said pretending to be hurt

“I’ll pick you up at 8:00, please dress appropriately, you need to look hot enough to be Byun Baekhyun’s best friend”

“Baek I said I don’t want to please don’t do that I really just-”

“See you later hottie, love you bye!”

He hung up. You sighed, you really hated his guts. ‘No I don’t’ you thought

After a long day of looking through every single article of clothing you had, you opted for a pair of high waisted, ripped jeans, a black crop top that went off your shoulders, and your pair of black and white adidas. This may not seem like the greatest outfit in history but it was completely out of your comfort zone.You looked at the clock realizing it was 5 pm. Your eyes widened in shock.

“It was like 10 am 5 minutes ago what the hell!” You said out loud

You had 3 hours to get ready, for now you went to the kitchen and made a sandwich since you had not eaten all day trying to look for appropriate attire and making a huge mess along the way. You went to your drawer ,munching on the last bite of your sandwich, getting out a matching pair of bra and panties and hopping in the shower hoping to not take too long. Shaving about everything on your body took up the most time in your shower, you washed your hair with a strawberry scented shampoo and did your regular shower routine.

You got out of the bathroom with just your bra and underwear on, not wanting to deal with the struggle that is having to put on skin tight jeans after a shower. You moisturized your whole body and decided to go get a glass of water from the kitchen. As soon as you walked out of your room you heard a loud scream coming from your couch. Startled you screamed as well until you saw Baekhyun sitting there with eyes widened staring up and down at your quite revealing body. Grabbing his jacket that was sitting next to him you tried covering as much of your body as you could.

“What are you doing here!” You screamed

“I came to make sure your outfit was good!” He screamed back

“How did you even get in!”

“The door was unlocked!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here!”

“You were in the shower!” he screamed “Why are you naked?” he screamed again

Blushing your tried to press his sweater tighter to your body. You looked at him, both of you making eye contact and both of you burst into a fit of laughter. He got up and embraced you in a hug, completely shutting you and your laughter up, and making the very much common blush in your face reappear.

“I’m sorry I just wanted to make sure you looked great, don’t be shy in front of me we are best friends” He said hugging you tighter placing his hands on your bare back.

“B…Baek get out I’m still not done, you said 8. Just trust me with the outfit ok?” You said breaking apart from his hug.

“Fine, but you better not let me down ok?” He said heading for the door “See you at 8!” He said leaving

Recalling the events that had just happened your cheeks started heating up. ‘Baek just saw me half naked’ you repeated in your brain, trying to function after that.


After Baekhyun left he couldn’t stop thinking about what he had just seen. You and Baekhyun had been best friends for the longest time, he saw you as someone irreplaceable in his life, and loved you more than anyone. Why did seeing you like that make his stomach get butterflies? He then realized what you had told him was right, both of you had grown up…a lot.


Baekhyun picked you up exactly at 8, you both drove to the party, jamming to songs together. You made him promise he wouldn’t leave you alone in there since you didn’t know anyone. Yet..it hadn’t even been 30 minutes into the party and there you were, standing, alone not knowing what to do. After scrolling through your phone you looked up to see something that made your insides churn. Baekhyun was hugging a girl, they were talking and smiling to each other. Her hand was on Baekhyun’s shoulder and his was on her waist.

A guy walked by offering ‘mystery drinks’ in red cups. You took one and chugged it down, this broke one of the most important rules of parties. You remember your first party, with Baekhyun obviously. “Listen up Y/N there is rules to parties ok? Rule number one! Do not take drinks from anyone, do you understand? Especially if they’re in a red cup, those are sketchy” you remember him telling you and you chuckled at the irony. Both of you had been 16 at the time and of course you followed his ‘party rules’ no matter what. Now it was different, you needed to forget. Just like that you found yourself chugging 4 cups of said ‘mystery drink’


You felt great. You were dancing with no worries and you were being friendly with everyone. You knew you wouldn’t feel as great the next morning, yet you kept drinking. You hadn’t seen Baekhyun since you last saw him with that one girl and honestly you didn’t want to see him. After dancing for what seemed like ages you went and sat down on one of the couches, catching your breath. You closed your eyes and rested your head on the couch, feeling slightly dizzy. ‘So this is what being drunk feels like?’ you thought to yourself. You spent so much time listening to everything Baekhyun told you that you missed out on so many things. You had never gotten drunk, or rebelled, or even kissed a guy; all because of him. You were tired.

Suddenly a hand on your waist interrupted your deep thinking. You opened your eyes to see a familiar face. A guy from your psych class, Chanyeol was it? “Hey” he said

“Hello” you whispered, the dizziness increasing

“Why are you by yourself?” the tall guy in front of you said

“My best friend dumped me for a girl, and now I’m stuck at this party, all bored until he’s done having his fun” you closed your eyes and sighed

”Maybe I could change that. The being bored part I mean” you opened your eyes once again and looked at him and there was a very obvious smirk on his face.

You looked at him. He is cute, tall and his smile is kind of creepy in an adorable way. ‘Fuck it’ you thought. You were done being Baekhyun’s little puppet, following all the rules he had set for you. You had to live too, besides the only reason why you followed those rules was because you hoped you would be able to experience all of those things with Baekhyun at some point. That obviously wasn’t going to happen, you are Baekhyun’s best friend, his little sister. “You’re not a woman to me, you’re my best friend” those words replayed in your mind, and without noticing you found yourself saying “Sure Chanyeol”

You looked at his hopeful eyes and suddenly he was leaning in. You knew what he was trying to do and you were not going to try and stop him. Whatever had to happen will happen. You felt him getting closer and closer, you could feel his breath on your lips and his nose touching yours. All of the sudden what you expected the least happened. That voice.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

a little something more

request: anon: I have a request!Can you do a Johnny friends with benefits smut?Kinda angsty, but kinda fluffy in a way :) Also I love your writing!Keep up the great worka

summary: in which you and johnny become friends with benefits, but you can’t seem to shake the rapidly growing tenderness in your heart that yearns for him in more ways than just sex.

characters: johnny seo x female!reader

genre: pure smut, lil angst, lil fluff

warnings: smutty smut smut & explicit language

author’s note: so this is my first time writing a smut scenario… let’s hope I don’t completely flop lol. HERE GOES NOTHIN



You clutched onto your best friends hand as the two of you walked through the doorway, and into the chaos filled house party. The music was so loud you could feel your insides rattling and everyone in your line of sight was completely wasted. You took a deep breath before your friend was dragging you along to the kitchen for a couple drinks. Not 20 minutes into the party your best friend had already left you in the corner of the kitchen with a drink in your hand as she was off and about doing god knows what. You were never the “party” kind of person. You much rather enjoyed a quiet night in doing something far less stressful.

You took a small sip of whatever it is your friend had given you as you heard someone clear their throat from beside you. You turned your focus towards the poor attempt at an attention grabber as you were met with a very tall and alarmingly handsome gentlemen.

“I couldn’t help but notice such a pretty woman like yourself all alone. Did your date leave you here by yourself?”

You smirked at his sly choice of words, cleverly asking you whether or not you actually had a date.

“I came here with my friend, but I’m not quite sure where she’s at right now… This isn’t really my ideal setting,” you laughed to yourself as you made possibly one of the biggest understatements of your life.

“I completely understand… My friend dragged me here with the promise of a good time, but all I’ve gotten is separated from the only person I know here and booze spilled all over me,” he replied, annoyance very evident in his voice.

The small talk continued for another half hour or so before you finally got around to introducing yourselves.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you smiled as you extended your arm.

“Johnny,” he retorted, as he returned the gesture and shook your hand.

*7 MONTHS LATER*

Your eyes scanned over the pages at lightning fast speed as the climax to the novel you were currently reading was approaching. But before you could even get to said part, your phone buzzed next to you. Sighing, you laid down your book and picked up your phone to see who could possibly be texting you. An all too familiar name was displayed on your screen as you read the same texts you’ve read so many times before.

Johnny:

Hey, wanna come over?

You laid your phone down in your lap as you contemplated your options for the evening. You could, A: Politely decline and continue spending your Saturday night with your nose shoved in a book, or, B: Accept his offer and have yourself a little “fun.” You laughed to yourself at your own childish innuendo, and quickly texted Johnny back, accepting his invite.

You hopped off of your bed and shuffled over to your closet to change out of your worn out sweats, and into something a little more flattering. You stripped down into nothing before you bent down and picked up the tiny, pink Victoria’s Secret bag off the ground. You smirked to yourself as you pulled out the brand new bra you had treated yourself to the other day. It was jet black with the perfect amount of silver embellishments to give it that sexy feel. You retrieved the matching black thong, and slipped into your new “number” as you observed yourself in the full length mirror in front of you. Not only did the lingerie look amazing, but you felt incredibly gorgeous wearing it. With one last full body scan, you threw on a pair of leggings and a loose fitting, see-through crop top, slipped on your converse, and headed out the door.

No more than 15 minutes later you pulled up to Johnny’s house. Checking yourself one last time in your rearview mirror, you hopped out of your car and headed towards his front door. You knocked twice before you heard the shuffling of feet from inside the house. The door flung open as you were now face to face with Johnny. He was dressed in a plain white t-shirt, a grey pair of joggers (that hung dangerously low on his hips), and not to mention his disheveled hair; which looked way hotter than bedhead should look on anyone. You barely had one foot through the doorway before you were yanked inside and slammed against the cold wall, trapped by Johnny’s arms on either side of your head.

“Well, hello to you, too,” you giggled.

Bringing his lips tauntingly close to your ear he whispered, “How are you, princess? I’ve missed you,” all the while his fingertips barely grazing your sides.

You let out a shaky breath due to the abrupt change in the atmosphere. With his lips still teasingly close to your neck, he leaned in some more and placed a gentle peck on the exact spot he knew would send chills down your spine. You tilted your head to the side, giving Johnny more access area. With this obvious indication, he attached his mouth onto the newly exposed skin. Without warning, he bit down on your neck, eliciting an unintentional moan from you. That sound was all it took for his grip on your waist to tighten, and a low growl to arise from his throat.

He hooked his hands under your arms as you jumped, wrapping your legs securely around his waist. The two of you made eye contact for a brief moment before your lips were connected. Johnny carried you upstairs without disrupting the very heated make out session you two were currently having. His hands found their way to your ass, squeezing it rather harshly. Your hips jolted forward in response to his roughness, as you let out a small squeak. The sudden movement of your hips generated a great deal of friction against Johnny’s growing erection, causing him to gasp in pleasure. Wanting to get more of a reaction out of him, you continued rolling your hips against his clothed member, finding it surprisingly pleasurable for you, as well.

“Y/N…” he growled with his lips still pressed against yours.

“Yes?” you questioned, ever so innocently, as you ground your hips even harder.

Before you knew it you were being tossed on the bed like a rag doll, only to have Johnny tower over you in an intimidating manner.

“I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not gonna work. In case you forgot, I’m the one in charge. And I don’t think you wanna test me, princess, because I promise you, you’ll be sorry. Understood?”

“Y-yes,” you croaked back. So much for that plan… As much as you loved pushing his buttons sometimes, none of it’s worth the punishments he gives you for “misbehaving.” The last time he disciplined you, you were constantly reminded of it every time you sat down for the next week straight…

He began placing open mouthed kisses all around your collar bones while his hands made their way up your shirt. You sat up slightly as he pulled the soft fabric over your head, and threw it somewhere else in the room. His kisses started trailing down towards the valley of your breasts before he paused and sat back.

“Is this a new one?” he questioned, as his hands reached out and cupped the bra, running his thumbs over the intricate designs.

“Yes, it is,” you replied with a smirk plastered on your face.

“I like this one a lot… It might just be my new favorite. Good choice, baby,” he retorted as he leaned down to continue his sequence of kisses. “But as much as I do love it, it’s gonna have to come off…” he says while simultaneously unhooking your bra and tossing it over his shoulder.

He immediately grabbed both of your breasts and squeezed them roughly as you let out a satisfied gasp. You feel him smirk as he continues his string of smooches all the way down your stomach, and to the top of your pants. He hooked one of his fingers under the waistband of your bottoms, and started pulling them down at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Johnny, please go fas-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he cut you off, “patience, babygirl.”

After what felt like forever, Johnny had finally removed your pants, leaving you in just your underwear. He lightly rubbed you through your clothed heat as you emitted a breathy moan. 

“You’re already so wet for me, Y/N,” he remarked, satisfaction evident in his voice.

“Mmmm,” you moaned in response.

You peered down and made eye contact with Johnny right as he was biting the waistband of your thong and pulling it down your legs. He went back to his previous position between your legs and started kissing your inner thighs, all the while maintaining eye contact. The tingle in between your legs was now turning into a burning sensation as you needed so desperately to be touched.

“Johnny, please,” you whined as you bit your lip.

“Please what?” he asked with a smug smile on his face.

“Please touch me.”

Without another word Johnny was licking a long stripe up your pussy while he prodded at your entrance. You threw your head back with a loud gasp at the feeling of Johnny doing, what you assumed, he was born to do. The flicks of his tongue increased as he added a second digit inside your heat. You threaded your fingers through his smooth hair as you pulled lightly, causing him to moan against you. The vibrations sent a whole new kind of pleasure through your body as your back arched off the bed, and you let out a high pitched moan. Before you could register what was happening, Johnny had forced a third finger inside of you and was now sucking on your clit, purposely moaning this time. The heat in your stomach was rapidly growing as you let out multiple cries, begging Johnny not to stop.

“Johnny, I- I’m,” was all you could get out before you came, calling out Johnny’s name along with a string of curse words.

By the time you opened your eyes, that you didn’t even realize you had closed, Johnny was directly above you. He had his fingers in his mouth, licking your juices off them like it was candy.

“Mmm, I will never grow tired of doing that,” he said, more to himself than to you.

“And I will never get tired of receiving that,” you giggled as you continued to come down from your high.

“Baby,” Johnny softly called out, causing you to look up at him, “I need you so bad.”

You peered down at the tent in his pants, and then back up at him before whispering, “then have me.”

Johnny hopped off the bed as he shed himself of all his clothes, and walked over to the nightstand where he retrieved a condom. He bit it open the package, and rolled it on as he gave himself a few pumps while walking back to the bed. He crawled on top of you and proceeded to put his length right at the entrance of your pussy. You let out a faint gasp as you anticipated his next movements.

With one harsh snap of his hips, Johnny thrust into you. Throwing your head back you let out a high pitched groan as the man above you voiced an equally sinful moan. His pace started out as slow, but deep, sensual thrusts. The intensity of his movements, along with his piercing stare, left you a whining mess.

“Agh… You look so good underneath me, baby,” Johnny moaned in a rather deep and lust-filled tone.

“J-Johnny- Oh god!” you squeaked, as he hit one particular spot that had you seeing stars

Without warning, he quickened his pace. You let out a cry of pure pleasure as you unintentionally tightened around him. His grip on your waist tightened as he let out a strangled grunt. The both of you were losing your composure with every snap of his hips. He continued to assault your pussy as you felt the knot in you lower abdomen growing at an alarming rate.

“I- I’m gonna…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered shut and your eyebrows knitted together.

“Mmm, come for me. I’ve got you, babygirl,” he hummed.

You gripped onto his shoulders and raked your nails down his toned, muscular back. You threw your head back and let out an ear piercing scream as your high completely washed over your body. Johnny’s thrusts became sloppy and erratic as he chased after his own release. Your nails dug into his biceps as whimper after whimper escaped your lips, while tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. Oversensitivity was becoming too much for you to handle, and right as you were about to say something, Johnny cut you off.

“Y/N… Y/N- Agh!” He shouted as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, and panted heavily.

You laid sprawled out on the bed, chest heaving, as he rolled himself off of you, and disposed of the used condom. He waltzed back over to you and collapsed on the bed. He draped his arm over your waist and dragged your body flush against his. His frame completely covered yours as he rested his chin on the top of your head. The two of you simultaneously let out content sighs, sparking a fit of laughter from you both. After you settled down you hear him sigh once again, but this one was different from the last.

“What’s wrong, Johnny?” you asked as you tried to tilt your head up to look at him.

“Y/N…” he paused, “I can’t do this anymore…” he whispered, barely audible.

“What do you mean…?” you immediately questioned, slightly sitting up.

“This…” he trailed off, motioning to the two of you on the bed.

“So did you just call me over here for one last fuck before telling me you want nothing to do with me anymore?” You angrily snapped, trying to bite back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

“No! T- That’s not at all wha-” he retorted in a rather panicked tone.

“You know what, just shut up and listen cause if I don’t say this now, I never will,” you interrupted him. Taking a deep breath, you continued. “Sometime in the past 7 months, I’ve fallen head over heels for you. But you were the one who suggested the whole ‘friends with benefits, no strings attached’ idea, and I was afraid if I told you about my feelings that I’d scare you off… But now that I still somehow managed to drive you away, I might as well tell you the truth.”

By the end of your confession you couldn’t stop the tears that had started rolling down your cheeks as you dropped your head, unable to look at Johnny. You felt all sorts of empty and broken. All you wanted to do was curl up in your bed and cry yourself to sleep.

All of the sudden, you felt a hand under your chin picking your head up, and another wiping away the salty tears that covered your cheeks. You hesitantly lifted your head up to look at Johnny. He was already staring at you, a small smile painted onto his face.

“You’re such an idiot…” he chuckled.

“Excuse me?” you asked him, beyond confused by the situation at hand.

“You never let me finish what I was trying to say. I sure could’ve saved you all these tears; although, your eyes look gorgeous when you cry,” he paused, taking a moment to gaze into your eyes intently. “But that’s beside the point,” he snapped back, shaking his head. “What I was trying to say in the first place was I can’t do this whole ‘friends with benefits’ shit anymore because I’ve fallen so hard for you, Y/N, and I want to be more than just a ‘booty call’ to you.”

You looked him in the eyes in complete and utter disbelief. Johnny started to laugh, finding you reaction somewhat amusing.

“Johnny I swear to god if you’re fucking with me…” you warned him.

“I swear! I meant every single word. And with that being said… Y/N, will you do the honors of being my girlfriend?” He asked, failing to suppress the stupid grin making its way onto his face.

“I would love to,” you whispered, blushing like an idiot.

The both of you laid back down, and resumed your previous cuddling session. Johnny was stroking your hair, slowly lulling you to sleep. Right before sleep was about to take over your body, you felt Johnny kiss you on top of the head as he whispered,

“You have no idea how happy I am to finally be able to call you mine. Sweet dreams, princess.”

The Email

Word count: 1500-ish

Sam X Reader

Summary: Reader’s closest friend was brutally murdered and there was only one person she could turn to, her best friend-Sam. But here’s the twist, she has never seen Sam. For 15 years now she has been writing and receiving letters/ Emails from her best friend without knowing what he does or even looks like. Does she like him? Maybe. But what happens when she finds herself falling for this other beautiful man she has just met?

A/N:This is something I had been thinking of writing for a while now. I Hope you guys like it

Warning: Graphic, Death

Originally posted by sam-and-dean-winchesters

You couldn’t get to the computer fast enough.

It had been a brutal day. The sort of day that makes you want to crawl into your bed, bury yourself beneath the blankets, howl with misery and just never come out. Ever. It was getting worse with every passing second. You could still smell the blood and it made you faint but what you remembered most distinctly was the look in Ella’s eyes as she lay dead on the lobby floor- pure terror. Your world had come to a standstill. It couldn’t be, not her.

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Purity 2 ~S.W.~

Summary: part 2 to one of my very early imagine, purity.

Requested: yep

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sams POV

“ I don’t know you guys, I don’t have a change of clothes with me”. Y/n says looking at the floor and blushing.

How the hell could someone so sexy be so shy and timid. It’s so mesmerizing. Everyone thinks y/n is the same goodie two shoes who does their homework the moment she gets it and goes home and studies and falls asleep at 7 o'clock while listening to classical music because it doesn’t have any curse words. Me and the guys know the truth.

Something changed inside her when me and her first slept together. She still has her tendencies but she’s definitely different around us.

Y/n loved to cause trouble, from hotboxing my apartment, to fucking in public places. But she didn’t want other people to know she was bad. She was worried that someone’s rumors or gossip would ruin her chances of getting into UCLA.

Like right now. Me and the boys (the jacks, Nate and Swazz) we’re gonna bring y/n to a party held by the people at our school. Usually y/n loved parties but those were always held by Nates older college friends, or Swazz’s friends that dropped out of school.

“You don’t have to change. What you’re wearing is perfect. It’s a casual party” Gilinsky says softly. He’s like y/n’s bestfriend. Which makes me jealous at times, but they wouldn’t do anything.

“But everyone’s gonna be there” she practically whispers.

“So what. Some girls are gonna be jealous and some guys are gonna stare but i promise you, we would never let anything happen to you. Ever.” I speak up and put my hand on her face.

“Fine. I’ll go, but Johnsons driving cause I wanna get high on the way” she says smiling at us before walking out to the car.

The whole way there y/n smokes a blunt and raps along to the music. The cuss words sound so hot coming from her mouth. She’s sitting in my lap and dancing a lil bit which is getting me hard and she knows it.

When we get to the party, y/n goes back to being nervous. I grab her hand and throw my arm around her shoulder right before we walk into the front door.

Once we walk in a few people yell wassup at the boys. Pretty much everyone was staring at y/n though, or maybe they were staring at the both of us. Either way I squeezed y/ns hand and she turned and smiled at me.

The girls are whispering because they’ve never seen y/n in a mini skirt and a crop top and thigh high boots. They’ve also never seen her with dark makeup. Now that I think about, i don’t even think they’ve seen her with her hair down.

Y/N POV

As we walked into the house I felt everyone’s eyes on me. It feels weird to be actually noticed, I doubt half these people know who I am.

I feel sam squeeze my hand and I smile up at him. I pull him towards the drinks, where the rest of the boys are.

“Um, Sam?” We all hear interrupting our plans for after the party. We turn around and see a girl from school. Kira was her name. Sam rolls his eyes and fake smiles at her while still holding on to me.

“When I invited you to my party, I didn’t think you’d be bringing your friends, or some high school dropout” she says nodding towards me.

All the guys stand there shocked. Sams breath gets heavier and I feel him getting angrier. I bust out laughing. This bitch really thinks I’m a high school dropout. I think I’m way to high to be angry.

“Awe, sweetie, a high school dropout? My GPA is higher than me right now, I’m literally valedictorian. You’re an irrelevant Junior bitch that thinks their better than everyone even though she’s failing a good half her classes. If anyone can be classified as a dropout I’d say it was you. And the fact you think my boyfriend would come to a party without his bestfriends, you’re way dumber than you look honey” I smile at her before finishing my drink and walking to the dance floor with Sam.

All the guys follow us and began dancing with us.

“Yo y/n, I ain’t know you had attitude like that.” Swazz says laughing.

“Yea babe, that was really fucking hot” Sam says in my ear.

I laugh at the stupid guys I call my friends and focused on having fun

The next day when we went to school, I decided to drop the whole nice girl act, it was getting hard to keep up with. A lot of girls started talking shit but honestly, it’s not a problem. They have my phone number, it’s listed in all the teachers classrooms for studying. So if they wanna talk they can talk to me.

Me and Sam showed a bunch of PDA at school and I’m surprised we didn’t get in trouble.

Either way, I guess it’s fair to say, I’ve lost my purity.

Come Back Home | 01

Originally posted by wanna-be-korean-unicorn

Hoseok x You (Blu) | City AU

Parts: 01|

Genre: angst, series, AMBW

Words: 3049

Summary: A good man is hard find, so you totally lucked out when a rich business mogul takes an interest in you. But what happens when he may love you a little too much?

Requests: Open (SFW / NSFW / Snaps / Texts / Confessions / MTLs / Selfie Ships / Scenarios)  

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anonymous asked:

I'm 110% you've already heard this 100 billion times but love your blog 😁 ps Loved the spideychelle fwb!!😭😭 I need a part 2 pls pls plssssss ❤

no i actually don’t hear it often. (lol my first thought is that this sounds like peter’s pleads)


  • ok
  • so
  • however
  • even though michelle slamming peter’s door in his face and hurrying away from his front door had happened early a month ago
  • and it’s three weeks since she’s stopped catching blurs of red high in her peripheral vision, and she stopped tuning in to the local news
  • three weeks since she stuffed his forgotten button downs, large polyester jacket he doesn’t wear anymore, and spare boxer shorts, and all the little nicknacks and small stuffed toy he’d won once in high school, all of them stuffed in a large trash bag that’s sitting beside her front door
  • it’s three weeks since she’s deleted his number, very certain that he isn’t going to call her back. or text. or anything. she’s grown comfortable with the feeling.
  • it’s three weeks since she’s unfriended him on all social media and she very adamantly avoids all of the places that hold memory—the little mom-and-pop coffee shop on the corner of 14th, the specific imax theatre, the small library en route to his old home, she rushes past the hallmark store a block from her place, has thrown up her middle finger to macy’s and the old pizza joint he works at and 
  • it’s over two week that michelle honestly feels good. there’s not a thought, not a bother or doubt in her mind and she feel comfortable, secure. she hasn’t given peter parker in over two weeks straight
  • her grades are rising, her crops are flourishing, her skin is clearing, and she wears a shade of lipstick that shows she’s now available and on the market
  • michelle has started to feel pretty damn good
  • she doesn’t think about the nights she cries into her pillow, her heart in tatters
  • michelle feels good
  • doesn’t she?
  • she does, yes
  • and she most definitely doesn’t want to break down in tears at the sight of a spider web or grow unabashedly angry at seeing spider-man beanies
  • nope, michelle is fine. she adjusts her makeup in the bathroom mirror and teases messy hair
  • she’s on the road of (a rather aggressively and forced) recovery from over four years of feelings and she’s sailing this boat steadily until it’s the last week of the month of their breakup
  • she’s walking the streets during a weekly fresh market sale, and is trying to decide between a rose quartz bracelet or jar of homemade bee honey when she sees—
  • she sees
  • and her heart stops, leaps into her throat, and there’s a tight cord restriction around her chest because she sees peter and he’s with some blonde who’s rather pretty, she sorely admits, and it further breaks the small remains of michelle’s bruised heart
  • she leaves the bracelet and jar and storms away
  • what does that girl have that michelle doesn’t, she worries; what about her is alluring that isn’t michelle. is it because she’s blonde? is it because her bright eyes? her freckles? because she’s shorter? because her smooth laughter?
  • michelle overthinks, over analyzes, and has to exit into the public restroom of a nearby hotel
  • she’s dabbing away tears on a cold toilet seat when her phone vibrates. michelle chokes, mentally scolds herself for crying over someone like him, who couldn’t even so much as fucking text her the decent time of day—
  • on michelle’s screen is peter’s number—the name deleted, but she memorized the numbers. a single line reads, ‘can we talk?’
  • it’s more in a fit of anger and pride—now, now he wants ‘to talk’ when it’s nearly a month later?—that she texts back much too quickly ‘no’ and then pauses a beat, thinking. ‘there is nothing to talk about.’ she’s typing for him to delete her number when a reply bubble pops up
  • ‘please?’
  • ‘no’
  • ‘i miss you’
  • ‘bullshit’, she replies. the thought hits that he perhaps saw her outside. aggressively, she types. ‘i’m not your bootycall anymore.’
  • there’s a noticeable pause. the three loading dots appear and disappear several times as peter texts a response, deletes it, begins typing again, stops. michelle’s eyes are burning, swollen. she wipes her face with toilet tissue. is blowing her nose when her phone finally receives a response
  • ‘youre my best friend’
  • and at this, michelle gives a loud blow scoff of laughter. friends. they’re still friends. this only further confirms her feels and cements her hardening opinion about all of this, their arrangement, about him.
  • ‘this isn’t high school anymore’, she types, slides her phone in her pocket and ignores the series of vibrations from incoming messages as she cleans herself up and its the bathroom and then the hotel. her eyes hold a tad of pink, and her nose too.
  • she forgets his texts on her walk. the air is chilly with approaching autumn, and a gust of wind blows into her jacket; she pulls it close around herself
  • she’s waiting for the subway to ride home when she pulls out her phone to pull up the tracker when she sees the number of unread text messages. she checks the tracker first. peter’s texts read: ‘i know it’s not high school anymore’, ‘what do you mean’‘mj just please call me’, ‘or text me’, ‘or something, please’, ‘i’m not trying to be mean or a jerk’‘i’m sorry if i hurt you’‘do you hate me?’‘i was busy. i wasn’t even in the city this month’‘i was serious about needing to talk to you…..please say something’‘did i do anything wrong?’‘please don’t hate me’
  • the enters the station, the brakes screaming against the metal. on michelle’s phone, the last text was sent eight minutes ago. she shoves it in her pocket and rides the train home without giving a response.
  • she doesn’t sleep soundly that night
  • late next evening, she’s stirred from her bedroom by a knock on the door. grumbles as she slides across the cold floor in slippers—no makeup, still in her pajamas, hair tied up messily. checking thought the peephole, there’s no one there, so she turns to go back to her room. she’s stopped by another knock. she ignores it until there’s a third. and then a fourth. and then a sixth. and then a constant string of rhythmic knocks that when she yanks the door open, she’s ready to verbally tear whoever it is to pieces.
  • only it’s peter. and all of michelle’s gusto goes up in steam. an then she’s angry again. “what do you want,” she sighs, though there’s a barely hidden snarl under her words
  • he sucks in a steadying breath first. “michelle, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry”
  • she’s confused. her face relaxes to a calm exterior. “what are you sorry for? you did nothing—” and she almost chokes, “nothing wrong.”
  • “then why does it feel like you hate me?”
  • rolls her eyes. “i don’t hate you, peter. i’m just…” just what? disappointed? devastated? despondent? jealous? she folds her arms, shrugs, looks to her feet. “nothing,” she says instead. “what is it you want?”
  • his eyes are wide and near fearful. “what did i do wrong, mj? tell me. i’ll take it back if it makes you that upset”
  • she’s waving him off like this was nothing but a normal bicker. “you did nothing wrong, peter. i’m not mad at you. now go back to your girlfriend. i don’t think she’d appreciate knowing you’re here. did you really come over here to tell me this?”
  • at this he’s blinking. “girlfriend? what girlfriend?”
  • leans against the doorframe, rolls her eyes at his act. “the blonde girl you were with, of course.”
  • “blonde—Gwen? No, no she’s not my girlfriend!”
  • michelle is confused
  • “she doesn’t even like me like that!”
  • “wait…then…then didn’t you say you liked someone?” she paused on the ‘L’ word, switching it for one she could say aloud.
  • peter grows unnerved again. “i didn’t mean her!”
  • “you have to work on this—coming all the way over to people just to tell them things that could very easily be said over the phone. It’s a waste—”
  • “i meant you, mj”
  • this time the silence is more defeating then killing
  • “you ran off. you started ignoring me and i thought you hated me, so…” he shrugs, is looking off to the side
  • oh
  • Oh
  • Oh My God
  • he points to the bulging trash bag inside and aside her front door. “is that my yellow jacket?” he notices through the white material
  • she ignores the question. “you said you liked someone. so i thought… it only made sense with how happy you seemed with her.”
  • peter’s shaking his head, his hands, repeating “no no no no no no.” then “she was helping me get this…in case you were to close to the door on my face again.” he holds up one of the necklaces michelle has mentioned offhand she wanted, one that was just little bit over peter’s pay grade. “and i mean,” he inhales deeply, “that i…you know…i like you.” mumbles extremely low, “a lot. actually…”
  • “peter—”
  • “and i liked you more than i wanted to continue the ‘no strings attached’ thing…but i…just wanted to give you this in case you want to kick me out.”
  • he doesn’t look her in the eyes. michelle runs a hand through her hair, across her cheek, presses to her mouth, and her eyes are stinging.
  • in a tiny voice, “michelle, say something
  • she hesitates. inhales shakily. “me too. i do too”
  • he’s speechless and doe eyed. she shivers in her opened doorway,
Late Night Dancing//Dean Ambrose

Late Night Dancing//Dean Ambrose

Summary: Dean forgot a rather important date night and reader gets upset at him so she gives him the silent treatment and Dean being Dean won’t let that happen for much longer

Author’s Note: Oh lookie my first one shot. I hope you guys like it

Word Count: 1,680

Warning: Fluff?

Tag: No one yet. However, if you want, just message or ask me.

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Something - Jimmy Vesey #1.2

Originally posted by liasandersson

about/request: listen can i get a part 2 to that jimmy vesey imagine like maybe where the brother walks in on them or something?

warnings: more cursing and fighting and sexual tension with some naked touching all up in here

authors note: glad other people agreed this needed to continue. ps i gave you what you want but also kinda didn’t hahahaHA

word count: 1256

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a day in the life

Grouping: Reader and Taehyung, roommates

Word Count: about 1900 words of slice of life

Summary: A typical day living with Kim Taehyung consists of constant fights for the blanket and watching him steal your crop tops


Taehyung knows you’ve come home not because he sees you come in and tiredly swap your outside shoes for indoor slippers, but because he hears you slam the door shut and proceed to let out a dramatic, 20 second sigh. Somewhere in the corner of his mind he remembers that its Thursday, so you must have had all your classes and lab.

He half-listens to you trudge your way through your shared apartment, probably shedding layers as you make your way to your bedroom. You’re probably not expecting to see him camped out in your bed, he muses. But he knows you won’t mind. He looks down at his loose outfit before considering that you might mind that he borrowed one of your sleep shirts. The door swings open, interrupting the quick apology he was formulating in case you got mad.

“Oh,” you blink as you take in the sight of your roommate stretched out in your bed with all his notes and books scattered across the duvet. “Hi, Tae.”

“Hey, how was your day?” He makes sure to smile extra wide at you through the round lenses of his oversized reading glasses in case you’re mad. You’re not, though. But if you were, you wouldn’t be anymore because he knows you’re a sucker for his big eyes and boxy smile.

“It was complete, total, utter, absolute shit.” You walk around the room and unwind the long scarf that was protecting your neck from the almost-winter weather. Taehyung hums sympathetically.

“Wanna rant about it?”

“Oh my god, yes.”

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Before the World Stops Turning: Pt.2

Greetings Tumblr! I’m back again after only a few days with the next part to this multi-chapter fic as part of my concert series. This chapter was pretty fun to write and I really enjoyed exploring the friendship dynamic between some of the characters. I’m trying something new with this fic and I’m going to be changing POV from one chapter to another, so fingers crossed that I don’t screw it up haha

Anyways, I added everyone to my tags if you requested to be added…If you would like to be added/removed don’t hesitate to let me know!

I hope you enjoy this chapter! (As always, additional notes and random commentary I have will be at the end beneath the tags)

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Summer Loving (Part 1)

Originally posted by seabasschino

A/N: NEW SERIES YIPEEKIYAY MOTHERFUCKERS - modern Avengers AU

Summary: reader and the female Avengers book a holiday house for the summer. But, due to complications the male Avengers have accidentally double-booked the house and they have to share. It’ll be a summer to remember.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, slight Steve x Reader at first

Word count: 1244

Warnings: swearing, arguments, feisty reader ;)

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lemon & ginger | luke coffee shop au

a/n: so this is the CUTEST chapter in my opinion, maybe not as cute as one coming up though. i finished the story lastnight and idk if i like the ending, so im sorry if you guys dont like it. i couldnt figure out how to end it and i just eh it kinda sucks. but oh well. here is this chapter! please reblog, it means a lot! also feedback is v nice!

word count: 1800+ (i’m being nice to y’all today)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | PART SEVEN

Right when you clocked out of work, as if on a timer, a text from an unknown number flashed on the screen of your phone. Knowing who it was, you smiled, grabbing the phone off of the counter and sliding open the message.

Hey, it’s Luke. Want me to come by at 8ish?

That would give you about half an hour to get ready, which was plenty of time.

Hey dork. Sounds great! What exactly are we doing?

You had no clue what to wear, so you tried to get some hints from the Australian.

Nothing too spectacular, don’t get your hopes up. I’m not rich and famous…yet ;)

You smiled at the winky face attached to the end of his message, rolling your eyes wondering what you had gotten yourself into. You quickly sent him the address for your apartment so he knew where to pick you up. You put your phone on to charge while you got ready. Digging through your closet, you decided to play it safe and just wear one of your many signature outfits. Ripped jeans, a cropped t-shirt and black ankle boots. You threw on a plain black bomber jacket, because the sun had set and it was chilly outside. Simple and cute.

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The Good Kind of Pain | gilinsky imagine

bc a lot if people wanted piercer gilinsky

«««««««««««««««««««««««««««

My grip tightened around my best friend Ava’s hand. She’d convinced me into getting something pierced tonight and we had just walked into the Tattoo parlor. It was just as terrifying as I had imagined; bald guys with head to toe tattoos and scary guys who looked like they had just escaped prison, drilling and sticking needles into people.

I started shaking walking up to.the main desk thing. The guy behind it looked much less intimidating than the others, a middle aged guy with only a few small tattoos on his arms. “How can I help you ladies tonight”? I was thinking on getting my nose pierced but I was still staring at all the people getting drilled into. “She really wants to get her nipples pierced”. That snapped me out of it. Before I could protest he was already talking to one of the big bald guys with a needle. If I said no now he would probably get offended and put me in a blender.

“Alright, all I need is an ID and you’re set. Sixty dollars for both”. Shit.

“You know, she just wanted to get her titties pierced so bad that we just ran down here and completely forgot to bring our IDs. Crazy right”? He just looked at her for a second and then at me for a little longer. “I know you’re not 18, kid. But if you really want this, and you have the money, I can let it slide this time”.

“Uhh…”. I was actually starting to want to get them pierced but I was a little bitch when it came to pain. Ava gave him a $100 and he gave me back two twenties. Then he lead me to the back part of the building. It was even colder than the extrance and there were about twenty rooms filled with supplies and needles and chairs and more bald guys. We finally stopped at the last door on the hall. “Go on. Jack’s ready for you”.

To my surprise, there was a tall young guy standing by the door. And the walls were a bright blue instead of black like every other room on the hall. “Y/N”? I nodded and sat in the piercing chair. It leaned back and kind of resembled the chair you’d sit in at the dentist. “You don’t look like the type we usually get for nipple piercings”. Even though I was nearly 17, I still had somewhat if a baby face and was only 5’3. “Surprised me too”.

He laughed a little and put on his gloves. If anyone was gonna stick a needle through my tits, I was glad that it was him. “Take off your shirt and we can get started”.
I only had on a daisy chain crop top and a bra so I took them off and threw them on the floor. He looked over my chest for a few seconds before grabbing something from his drawer. He took a clamper-thing and put it over my nipple. It was so tight and felt like someone was literally trying to bite it off. “I know it hurts, this is the worst part. Just breathe for me, okay”? I could only get out loud moans as he stuck the first needle in.

“Fuck”.

He smiled at me and ran his hand up and down the outside of my leg. I guess he was trying to draw the attention from my chest but it wasn’t working. It was the worst thing I had ever experienced. But I kind of liked it.

“See, it wasn’t that bad. Just breathe and you’ll be okay”. I closed my eyes and squeezed his arm waiting for the second one. Sure enough, it went through a few seconds later and hurt even more than the first one. Before I could even cry, Jack was rolling up the chair back to it’s normal sitting position.

“Don’t cry, you did so good”. I had to blink a few times to keep the tears away. “Does it look good”? He smiled and ran his thumbs under my new rings. “You look sexy. As a matter if fact, I think I might need that number, girl”. We both laughed and he told me everything I needed to know about taking care of them. No tight shirts for a week and no metal things near my chest bc they might get stuck them.

He gave me his phone and I put in my number under “Y/N is hot”. “I have to tell you though, I’m only sixteen”. He looked at the name I put in his phone and smiled. “I’m seventeen. The only reason I work here is because my dad owns the place”. Then he walked over to his drawer again and threw me a big “Gilinsky’s Ink House” t-shirt. I just threw it over my head and didnt even bother with a bra since my boobs still hurt.

“That’s really cool”. I jumped down from the chair and checked my phone.

New text from | Avaaaaa | 9:06 pm
Hurry up loser, it doesn’t take that long to get your tits stabbed

I couldnt help but laugh. “Thank you, text me when you get home, okay”? He gave me a hug being careful to not rub against my boobs. “Im gonna be here pretty late, ‘Y/N is hot’”. I smiled and looked up at him.

“I can wait”.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Sorry if the ending was really bad, I didn’t know what to. But I had that idea in my head for a while and I really needed to write it

Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

Chapter 3: The Winchesters Return

She thought she’d knocked them out, but they just kept coming. One down, two more take its place. It was a never ending onslaught. This was it. They were going to swallow her whole.

“Dawn, have you seen the calculator?” Buffy yelled up the stairs. Taking a couple summer courses had qualified her for financial aid, but the checks didn’t cover the bills. Who knew water was so expensive?

Dawn peeked out from around the corner at the top of the stairs. “It’s summer. Why would I touch a calculator?”

“I didn’t ask if you had it. I asked if you’d seen it.”

“No! Keep track of your own stuff!” she yelled as she disappeared.

Buffy sighed, sat down at the dining table, and rubbed her temples. When her parents’ divorce triggered the move to Sunnydale, her mom had bought the house outright, but the insurance and taxes were ongoing. Throw in utilities and food on a student loan budget, and they were barely scraping by. Heaven forbid something break. The week before, she almost had to call the plumber for the bathtub. Thankfully, Xander was able to snake out a disgusting wad of hair and get the drain draining again. Dawn wanted some new clothes for freshmen year; Buffy hadn’t told her yet that couldn’t happen. She was going to have to get a job soon, maybe sell her car. She’d even take fast food service again if she could get it. Anything.

The phone rang, and Dawn shot down the stairs like a bolt of lightning. “Is it ever for you?” Buffy yelled after her.

“Hello?… Oh HIIIII! .. Yeah, I can get her. Hang on.” Dawn sauntered into the dining room with a triumphant look on her face, her hand over the cordless phone’s receiver. “Sooooomeone is caaaaalllling for yoooou,” she sang.

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Brett Imagine Part 3

This is part 3 to a Brett Talbot/(y/n) imagine. I hope you guys like it. Sorry it took a while to get it up. I’ve edited part 2 (I’ve bolded the edit in the link) it changes some of the story, but only a little. Also the music I suggest to listen to may not always go with the them, but it creates the vibe. If that makes sense. I’m also trying to come up with a name for this imagine series.

Part 1

Part 2

Suggested music to Listen to while reading:

Icona Pop - Manners

You park your car at Beacon Hills high, but before you exit the vehicle you spritz yourself with some floral perfume. You exit the vehicle, snatch your phone out of your bag, and check for any text messages received during your short drive. Just two this morning, one from Lydia telling your she sent you her portion of the lab report for biology and one from Malia telling you to hurry you butt into school because Kira had gotten coffee for all the girls.

Walking into the school you pull down your gray crop top a little and adjust your denim jacket. You continue to walk until you get to your locker and once at your locker you open it to look into the mirror. The mirror reveals that nothing had moved out of place during your drive and that you looked okay.

“So here is a coffee,” Kira appears behind you with Malia at her side. “Since it’s basically the first day of fall without being the calendar marked date. But it’s cooler outside and they are selling pumpkin spice lattes again.”

You grab the coffee and take a swig needing the sweet caffeinated drink to wake up. Liam walks down the hallway with his worried face as per usual. His best friend Mason is by his side smiling and trying to cheer him up. Liam stops at your locker and you see him behind you in your mirror as you were applying some lipstick that Lydia bought you to try out. It was a rich dark purple color.

“So I guess Scott hasn’t told you the news,” Liam says gripping the straps of his back pack. Mason scrunches his eyes at Liam. Liam glances over to Kira and Malia. Kira is trying to look innocent. “Or anyone the news.” 

“What news?” You ask furrowing your brows and turning around.

“Someone I really hate is now attending Beacon Hills. Didn’t find out until like now,” Liam holds up his phone to show a text message from Scott, it reads ‘Brett’s going to be sticking around town for a while so we had him transferred over to Beacon Hills High. Yes I know you two are still not on good terms, but at the moment this what we’ve been thrown and I don’t need anyone else to die’. He slaps his free hand to his side in anger. “He couldn’t just tell me this in person? You know before I come to school because then I could have clearly not shown up. I’m not in the mood to throw a few punches before third period.”

“Why third period? I’m just as thrilled as you,” You roll your eyes and look down trying to hide a blush. You remember your last interaction with the wolf boy back in Argent’s warehouse. You open one hand and look at your palm remembering where the stab wounds once were from your claws. You hear the whispering words of “The Sun, The Moon, and The Truth floating through your mind. A chill at the bottom of your spine broke your small silence. 

You grab your coffee, close your locker and slump your bag on your shoulder. Liam walks to your side and takes a deep breath.

“So this means he can be anywhere?” Liam asks. “I haven’t seen him since the game.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Mason interrupts. “You could just let me do all the talking. Or the physical contacting.”

“Okay man, you do that!” Liam laughs.

“We are walking away,” Malia grabs you away from the boys and Kira meets your other side. Liam crosses his eyes at Malia and sticks his tongue out at you. You stick your tongue out at him. “We were in the middle of something before you two showed up.”

“So Liam doesn’t know that you and Brett have already had a moment together does he?” Kira asks. You three walk down the hallway on your way to your classes. 

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