i like how his hands are behind his back in the first one and how louis looks over in the second one

Whipped...friends??

Y/N would have never imagined the amount of attention being Harry’s best friend would bring. There’s also always speculations, suspicions that the two might be more than friends, given the fact that when they go out, it’s like they might as well be joined at the hip. Where Harry is on a day off, Y/N is sure to follow, and the paparazzi gets pictures of it all. But Y/N’s always been just a friend. It’s not like she trails behind him like a puppy, no. Harry just always loves having her around, finds comfort in the way she talks to him without a hint of glorification. Tracing back to the beginning of their friendship, Y/N didn’t tip toe around Harry, trying to make sure to not say the wrong thing, never really made impressing Harry a priority. And Harry really appreciated that.

And the relentless bother and questions of “are you two dating?” doesn’t end with the public, no, it continues, and probably gets more intense coming from their group of friends.

Whenever Y/N steps away from Harry’s side, there’s always one of the boys whispering to him about how they’re sure she’s got him wrapped around her pretty little finger. How at the call of his name, Harry never thinks twice about dropping everything and tending to her wants and needs. They make it sound awful in a way, as if Y/N is always needy of Harry and demanded his attention. But they don’t mean it like that really, just like bothering him about it, specially because he gets all worked up in trying to defend her.

They even comment about how they’ve taken notice to the fact Harry’s smile can stretch for miles at the mention of her name, which Harry has never denied. Only nods his head in amusement at the fact others notice.

And maybe their secret little escapes to what they refer to as “friend dates” are no help. They’ll be having a night in on the sofa, Harry sat at the edge of it, elbow propped on the arm rest, mindlessly scrolling through texts and thumbs swift on the screen, typing replies to friends. And obviously Y/N’s with him, lying down and feet resting on his lap, her head flat on the cushion, eyes shut because she quite enjoys just lying about in a silent room, knowing Harry’s there. And it’s not until he shuffles to stand up, pushing her legs off him in the process, that she opens her eyes and follows his body across the room where he doubles over to slip on his YSL boots before he goes for his coat. With a small whisper of “ye’ comin’?” Y/N is sure to follow his steps. Most nights like that they end up in some random bar or restaurant, sat on a stool or a booth, laughing and eating. Harry will often opt to sit next to her rather than in front, taking the chance to lay his head on her shoulder. Even kiss at her neck sometimes.

And when the boys catch a glimpse of the paparazzi photos taken of them all cuddly on a random Tuesday night at a local cafe, Harry’s phone just about overloads with texts from Niall going on about “I knew it!” And “just ask her, man!”

So no, it’s not out of the ordinary for Louis to make a ‘wuh-PSSSH’ sound followed by something snarky like “so whipped, mate. And she’s not even ye’ girlfriend,” when he notices Harry’s stare trailing to where Y/N goes as she makes breakfast for the lot. Harry tries to disregard the comment as Louis takes a seat next to him at the kitchen island.

“What’re you guys going on about over there?” Y/N asks, giggling to herself, “got Harry blushing and all.”

And of course with no chill what so ever, Liam pats Harry on the back, a devilish smile playing on his lips, “Harry here has found himself head over heels.”

Y/N can’t deny that her heart sinks a little at that, but she doesn’t let it faze her, or at least she doesn’t show it. “Really?? Oh who is she??”

“Yeah, Harry! Tell our lovely Y/N who’s the lucky woman!” Harry would hope Niall would be the one not to indulge in his current tormenting.

But Harry can only look at Y/N, her eyes locked on his from across the room. And Harry swears he’s never seen her look at him the way she is right now.

And the boys don’t mean to over tease him this time, just wish he’d finally let it out and tell her because they’re rather sure Y/N feels the same. It’s hard not to notice the way she looks at him, eyes full of adoration and dare they say, love.

When the air has fallen silent for far too long, Liam decides to change the subject for Harry’s sake and stands up to give Y/N a hand with the pouring of the beverages.

“You two have gotten to the point where you grocery shop together.” Liam starts again when Y/N steps away for more milk, “you cook together. You do laundry together. You’re always going on dates. You go with her for manis and pedis, and I’m sure you enjoy it, too.”

“So wha’?? I like spendin’ time with her.” Harry doesn’t really see why that’s so bad, being whipped and all.

“You sleep together,” Louis chimes in, “hell, wouldn’t be surprised if you showered together.”

Now that’s just nonsense.

“Sod off ye’ prick.”


It’s been a few weeks since the day Y/N found out Harry’s interested in someone. And she’d be lying if she said it doesn’t keep her awake at night. Awake while she’s lying next to Harry because of the fact that they’d much rather sleep together than alone. But when she looks over at him, she can’t help but smile.

She’s lying on her side, eyes tracing his, rid of any wrinkles they get when he smiles or frowns. They trace all of him. From his eyes to his eyebrows, then his cheeks and to his nose, where she kisses lightly, careful not to wake him. He only crinkles it for a short second, to which she only smiles. Her eyes linger down his neck, tracing every muscle and crevice until she’s looking at the tattoos on his chest, the steady rise and fall of it has her breathing adapting to his.

It’s when she looks at his parted bubble gum pink lips that she raises a hand, her index finger ghosting over his bottom lip. The touch has Harry stirring, eyes open for a moment before he puckers his lips to peck her finger, a smile on his face. He flutters his eyes shut for a second before resting his hand on her waist and rubbing his thumb gently on the exposed skin. He moans in content, pulls her body closer to his and rests his lips on her hair line.

“Go t'sleep, pet.”

And why oh why did she ever think some friendly flirting and bed sharing with her best friend could never lead to any emotional attachment.


The cuddles hasn’t stopped. Harry’s lingering kisses and hugs hasn’t stopped. The boys teasing on Harry behind Y/N’s back hasn’t stopped. Y/N sleeping in Harry’s bed hasn’t stopped. And Y/N’s constant self reminder that Harry might just be in love with someone else has not stopped.

If she’s being quite honest, she’s not liking the way the boys snicker and whisper to Harry when she walks off. And she really doesn’t like how whatever and whoever they’re whispering about is making Harry blush and smile sheepishly like crazy. Wishes she knew what they’re always being so secretive about. But giving it a second thought, maybe she doesn’t wanna know. It’s all the same to her now though.

The movie on the telly doesn’t seem to distract her anymore, not from her thoughts which are taking over her mind the more time she spends in Harry’s home. And to add to that, the second she steps back into the room with a bowl of popcorn the boys go silent. It makes her feel awful…left out, but she’s sure they don’t mean to do it. She should be thankful right? At least they’re nice enough not to talk about Harry’s girl in front of her, or maybe that’s just something she wants to believe.

“Oh popcorn.” Niall’s first to reach out and grab a handful before she’s even had the chance to get to her seat next to Harry.

“Thanks, love.” Harry whispers, kissing her cheek the second she sits down.

She notices out of the corner of her eye how Louis smirks and nods his head when Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder. What’s so funny??

The moment Harry presses another kiss to the top of her head is the moment she realizes she’s had enough. It’s the moment she realizes she can’t keep pretending and letting herself fall even more. Not after what Liam said.

“I have to go. It’s getting pretty late.” This catches everyone off guard, especially Harry.

When she stands up to leave, his fingers around her wrist are quick to make her stop and have her look down at him, still sat on the sofa. “Wha’ do ye’ mean? Ye’ always spend the night, poppet.”

His brows are furrowed now, grip tight on her wrist, fearing that if he loosens it she might just slip away.

Of course they can’t ignore the other people in the room though, so when Y/N’s eyes avert to the boys, Harry is quick to stand up and lead them away.

“Everythin’ a'right?” His eyes scan hers for answers, his hand now cupping her neck, thumb rubbing soothingly at her jaw.

The cool of his rings on her skin keep her at ease. But the uncertainty in her eyes has Harry feeling all types of useless.

“Tell me wha’s wrong, little one. Wha’ can I do to make ye’ feel better?”

And those words would have made no sense if it wasn’t for the sudden feeling of Harry wiping away a stray tear she didn’t notice she’d shed.

She can’t. She can’t break down. Not in front of him. What can she say for him to let her go??

“Nothing’s wrong, Harry.”

But she’s sure he doesn’t believe her, not one bit. He knows her too well.

And she can tell he’s about to say something else, and she knows if she lets him, she’s sure to fall back into whatever they have.

“I’ve really got to go. I’ve got a date in an hour and I have to go get ready.”

As much bullshit of an excuse as that is, Harry’s grip on her wrist loosens, and the hand on her neck falls.

And she takes the opportunity to slip out the door.



Whipped…friends?? Or.. (Part Two)

anonymous asked:

PLEASE do an imagine where you and Harry get into an argument and he kicks you out of the car

“I just don’t understand what the big deal is.”

It was the first day you and Harry were out in public–well, after he had announced it via tweeting about it. And to say the least, he was more nervous than you were. After all, all of his last public relationships didn’t turn out as well as he thought, and the intense way he gripped your hand as he breaks for a traffic light tells you that he’s scared of losing you.

Which brings you to your current conversation.

Harry sighs exasperatedly, pushing his sunglasses up onto his forehead. His green eyes look tiredly over to you. “Y/N…” he says your name like he’s reading it off a death list. “All I’m asking you to do is to walk a block without me.”

You laugh mockingly, wrenching your hand out of his grasp. “When you say that, it sounds as if I’m some co-dependent, clingy child that won’t leave you alone,” you spit. “But the truth is this: you’re dumping me out onto the sidewalk and making me walk not one but three blocks in this designer dress–” you gesture down at your expensive Vera Wang dress that had almost cost you all of your savings, “–that I spent years saving up for, just for this event, I might add, and you’re just–”

“Three blocks isn’t even that bad,” he counters, trying to snatch up your hand again, and he grows more frustrated when he sees that you’ve crossed your arms across your chest. “You’ve gotta consider my perspective, and the media’s perspective.”

You smile and tip your head to the side. “Yeah, I considered it. Your perspective is that you’re too ashamed to be seen with me on the red carpet, and the media’s perspective is gonna be why an ugly girl like me can land such a heartthrob.”

“That’s not true,” Harry says quietly. He picks his next words carefully, “I…I just think that it would be better for me and the boys to show up together instead, because this is our first public appearance after the hiatus.”

“I understand that,” you say immediately, “but I don’t understand why I can’t ride the car with you guys and just step out the other way when you all step onto the red carpet.”

The light turns green but Harry doesn’t move. He turns to you instead and says, “Because everyone will be wondering why you didn’t step onto the red carpet with me–on the other hand, if you didn’t ride the car and instead showed up after me, that’ll–”

“Make them think we broke up!” You exclaim. “Is that a better alternative, Harry?”

“At least they won’t think we’re serious!” Harry yells at you.

And then you let out a cruel laugh. The car behind you honks impatiently, but all you can think about is how with every second that goes by, Harry isn’t correcting himself.

Finally, you ask, “Are we not serious?”

Again, your boyfriend is silent.

“Okay then,” you whisper, gathering your purse in one hand and pushing open the side of the car door with the other. “Have fun on your big, red carpet appearance,” you hiss. “I hope you smile for the pictures; after all, it’s the person viewing them that will be determining your future, right?”

“Get out.”

A cry tears itself from the back of your throat. His jaw tightens. “I was just–”

Get out of my car.”

You slam the door behind you before you have the chance to start crying. Mouthing an apology to the car behind you, you are quick to disappear into the alleyways Los Angeles. The sky is still bright enough for you not to be scared to be wandering a foreign city by yourself, and you’re so full with anger that you wouldn’t even mind if a stranger came up to you and threatened you with robbery.

Fine, you think to yourself, ripping off your silver necklace. Take it. You dig your nails into your palms when you feel the smooth satin of your dress. Take it all, you think to yourself. I don’t need any of it.

Tears are stinging the side of your eyes, and you can’t help yourself as you turn around…and see that nobody is there behind you. Harry isn’t following you. He let you walk out of his car, just like that.

Two years of your relationship…gone.

He must’ve thought your relationship truly started yesterday, when the public first found out about it. But in reality, you knew it started the day he took you back to Cheshire to meet Anne. When you cat-sitted for Gemma’s cats. When you held Niall’s golf bag for him when he and Harry had to use the loo.

But if your relationship had started yesterday, none of those things have happened yet.

All you were to him was a one-night-stand who wanted to walk the red carpet.

You can picture the headlines already.

‘Girlfriend’ Gets Abandoned By Styles: Publicity Stunt Or One-Night-Stand Gone Wrong?

“Take it off!” You scream, cries tearing your throat. Your sobs wrack your bones as you collapse onto the dirty ground and rip out the bobby pins that were holding your hair together.

Off comes the blister-enducing heels that you were willing to suffer through for Harry. Off comes the silver tiara hairband that Harry’s stylist had recommended, because you don’t feel like a princess.

You feel like a pauper.

Your dress tears as soon as your body hits the floor and this makes you sob even harder. All those extra shifts and second job you had to take up–gone. Vanished. Just like that.

This dress, the price for this dress, meant nothing to Harry. He could purchase a thousand of them without creating a dent in his bank account.

He had no idea how much this night meant to you–how much you were losing for him.

And how less he was willing to lose for you.


pt. 2

I love you (MATURE)

I know this isn’t Marvel imagine, but i wrote this long time ago and thought maybe i should post it. 

The bed was so comfortable. She rolled around in her sleep and she felt like she was floating on the clouds. She starched her arm to touch her boyfriend, but all she met was more silky sheets. She slowly began to open her eyes, it took her some time before she could see properly. Her eyes needed some time to get used to the darkness.

That reminded her of the psychology class from the other day, when their teacher told them, that their eyes need thirty minutes before you could see anything.

She always found that very stupid, especially when she was walking to school in the morning. Her eyes didn’t need thirty minutes to get used to the darkness, she could see properly just after five minutes.

She looked around the room but she couldn’t find much known, and very dear silhouette to her. He was nowhere to be found, and that got her wondering, what he could be possibly doing at this time of the night. To be honest she didn’t know what time it was, and neither was she going to look, because it would be a crime to move from this holy position.

She was always laying on her stomach, she would much likely fall asleep on her back, but during the night she would always find her way back onto the stomach. It was the most comfortable pose ever. So she didn’t even bother to roll back and grab her phone form the night stand.

She was laying like that for solid ten minutes, even though it seemed to her like it was hours. She wasn’t sure how much time has passed, but she wondered how she didn’t fall asleep immediately. She is always the first one to fall asleep, she could lay anywhere, and within the minute, and she would be out.

But it was only because she was sleeping next to him, but when they were separated because of his tour and her school, she would barely get some kind of sleep. She just missed the warmth his body produced, the feeling of his strong, muscular hands wrapped around her body. His sweet little kisses all the way from her back, over her shoulder, around her neck and finally locking with hers. His low voiced “Goodnight” that was so innocence, but it would still send shivers down her spine.

She is so deeply in love with him, so over her head with him, he can make her lose her mind in less than a second. She would do anything for him, and that scares her the most. She never thought she would love anyone so much, it terrifies her sometimes. The thought that he holds her everything in his hands, her heart, her soul, her life, that one wrong word, move and she will be shuttered, broken, left in pieces.

He isn’t the type of person that would hurt her on purpose, he’s a sweet, loving and genuine guy. But lately he hasn’t been acting like himself. She understands that tour took a lot of his energy, and that all he wants now is peace and to relax, and she respects that. What hurts the most is when he says he needs to relax but he goes out with his friends, and comes home in early morning hours. She tried to confront him about it, but he would just raise his hands in the air, call her petty or just tell her that he missed them.

But so does she. She haven’t seen him in a year, all she wants now is, for him to wrap his hands around her, tell her he loves her and just cuddle for the rest of the day. She’s not asking for much, is she now? And even though he’s home now, she feels the same way she did when he was on tour. She misses him, and he’s right there, but just like he isn’t. She tried everything, she wonders if she did something wrong, is he mad at her, but anytime she would start a conversation about it, he would just push her off.

She let out a loud sigh and moved the covers from her body, and as soon as the silky sheets left her body, she felt shivers run down her spine, and only then she realised, the balcony doors were open, she was staring at them but she didn’t notice, not until now, and that’s exactly what he does to her. She wasn’t really sure why she felt the shivers because it wasn’t even cold.

And then she saw him, he was standing there, leaning onto balcony fence, looking so peaceful, maybe that’s the reason she felt them, her brain recognised him before she did. But one thing shocked her, he was smoking a cigarette. She was damn sure he stopped, at least that’s what he said. Well more correctly, that’s what he promised to do.

All she wanted to do was to go out, hug him from behind and just stay like that for hours. But she was afraid, afraid to move, because if he hears her, he will turn around and again go into his, now natural state, tensed.

She observed him for few more minutes, and then she decided to get up, she didn’t walk towards him, rather she went down to the kitchen and grab herself something to drink. She wasn’t really thirsty, but she couldn’t lay there anymore. She was so distracted that she almost fell over the pile of his clothes that was on the floor. And that little pile made her so angry, so she just wanted to turn around, go out and yell at him. Later on, she wasn’t even sure if she was mad about the pile, or about him in general.

She opened the fridge and just stared in, does she take bottle of water or apple juice. She went with just regular water, because she didn’t want anything sweet. She poured it into a glass and brought it to her lips, she was slowly drinking while looking through the kitchen window, into the dark, full of shadows, back yard. Shadows were playing around, enlighten the trees, now from this, now from that side. She calmed down a little bit, and she didn’t even hear him come.

Lately she was so distracted, it started to bother her. His low and quiet voice shook her out of her dreams. It was so quiet, but so was the house so it sounded like he was standing right behind her, but she knew he was either leaning onto kitchen door, or kitchen cabinets.

“Why are you up so late?”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Does she tells him the truth, that she can’t sleep without him and that the person who sleeps with her now isn’t her boyfriend, but some stranger taking over his body? Or does she just lie to him, and tells him its school? She rather decided to say nothing but to stare through window again.

Now she could feel the smell of cigarette that he just smoked, and it bothered her so much. The smell was so unpleasant, she wanted to turn around and tell him to shower. She took a deep breath, put the glass into the sink, knowing that she’s going to wash it tomorrow. She slowly turned around, trying not to catch his gaze, slowly started walking towards their shared room.

Just as she thought she had passed him, she felt the strong grip on her hand. By then she was already pissed off, and all she could do was let out a loud groan. She tried to pull her hand out of his grip, but he only pulled her closer. Her face met his bare chest, and she appreciated the warmth and smell of his body, even though the smell of cigarette ruined it.

“I’m tired Justin, let me go, please.”

Her voice was low, she felt tired, but not physical tiredness, no the mental one was bigger problem.

“Apparently you’re not tired enough if you woke up at 2.30 a.m.” and what could she say to that. She hated it when he became cocky little shit, mostly because that wasn’t her Justin. She wanted to talk to him about everything, but she knew it would all turn into a fight, and for that, she was not ready.

“My mouth was dry, so it woke me up, can you please let me go now?”

She whispered into his chest, feeling her eyes getting wetter. No she didn’t want to cry, but sometimes we don’t cry because we’re weak, we cry because it’s the only way to let out the pain, the frustration. It’s the only way to make mental pain, physical. But she didn’t want to cry in front of him, she just didn’t.

But his question dried her eyes in a second, she again became frustrated and angry, but at the same time confused and sad. That’s what he does to her. Confuses her, completely.

“Why are you avoiding me? In the evening, you’re already sleeping even before I enter the room. You leave in the morning without a kiss, without a goodbye. When I want to make you feel good, and you know how good I make you feel, your head hurts, or you have an exam to study for, or just something else that doesn’t make any damn sense.”

She was indeed avoiding him, but she only did it because she thought that would protect her from him. She didn’t know why she needed the protection from him, but she felt that way, if he was going to push her away, she won’t be able to try and hold him.

She was once again speechless, or so she pretended she was. She was a burning lion, observing, but always ready to attack.

She felt his hand under her chin, pulling it up, to finally meet his gaze. Every single time she would look into his eyes, he would make her feel like she’s seeing him for the first time ever, that weird feeling in her stomach made her change her weight from her right to her left leg.

He looked at her, or more properly, he observed her, he was still waiting for an answer, but he knew he wouldn’t get one, not from her and not tonight. But did he even wanted it? No, he just needed her attention, but he didn’t realise he was the reason why she stopped giving him so much attention. She wasn’t even aware of what she was doing to him. He was making him go crazy, he hated her for that.

He moved so fast she didn’t even got to catch a breath before her back met stone cold wall. His hands were on each side of her body, her legs were wrapped around him, and they fit so perfectly. His face was so close, their noses touched and she could feel his hot breath on her face. He was looking deeply into her eyes like he was asking for permission, but she knew he wasn’t.

Their lips met, and there was no sweetness in it, no patience, only roughness. But she didn’t mind, he moved his left hand down her body and gripped her ass, ass his lips did the same, concentrating on her neck. His pace was at the same time rough but perfect. All she could do was let out a small moan, that made him lean more into her, and she could feel his smirk growing against her neck. She wrapped her hand around his muscles, digging her nails into his skin. Suddenly he pulled his lips away from her neck, and he moved her from cold wall to the kitchen table. She used the chance to take her shirt off.

As soon as her nipples were exposed and hit by cold air they got hard. His eyes moved from her lips to her breast and he didn’t waste any time. He took her right nipple into his mouth, nibbling and sucking onto it, while he took other one in between his fingers and started tugging onto it. She let out a loud moan of pleasure. His mouth moved from her nipple to her mouth.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that? Let me make you feel the way I only know.”

He mumbled against her lips, the only response she offered him was a small whimper. He moved his lips down her jaw again, this time making sure to leave marks all the way from her neck to her breast. He moved his left hand down her body, until he reached her inner thigh. He moved the tips of his fingers against the sensitive skin, teasing her. She groaned and tried to pull herself closer to him, she was eager to fell his touch.

“Please, Justin” she whispered. Neither of them could wait any longer, but he felt indescribable pleasure teasing her. He slid his hand into her underwear, his fingers meeting her clit, rubbing it roughly. “So fucking wet.” He slid his fingers into her without a warning. Sudden pleasure made her let out loud moan, trying to get even closer to him, just so she could feel more of him.

“You keep moving closer to me, baby girl, even though there is no more place to move. See, only I make you feel this way. You should remember that.” He moved his lips from her neck and looked deeply into her eyes.

“I was going to tease you some more, but I just want to fuck the shit out of you.” he pulled his fingers out, pulled his Calvin Klein’s down, separated her legs and without a warning slammed into her. His mouth fell open while she moaned loudly. She wrapped her hands around his naked body, scratching his back.

“Fucking hell. You’re so tight, baby girl.” he hovered over her, making her back hit the cold table board. His mouth found her nipple and started nibbling onto it. Her mouth fell open from sudden pleasure. His hips found a perfect pace.

“Tell me how good I make you feel.” He groaned against her nipple. She wanted too, but the pleasure was too much and the only way she responded was through loud moan. But he wasn’t pleased with that. He slapped her ass, twice, once from right side, other time from left side. Burn that she felt after his hands made her whimper even more. When she still wasn’t responding, he picked his pace, even though she thought he couldn’t go any faster.

Their bodies moved in sync, and she could spot sweat dripping down his forehead. Even though the kitchen was very big, it became so hot in there that she wanted to jump out of her skin.

She felt his hand around her neck, griping her tightly, and the rough feeling almost pushed her over the edge, but he suddenly pulled out. The sudden feeling of emptiness made her whimper.

“You’re not cumming, until you tell me how god I make you feel, you understand me?” she nodded and pulled her hips up, trying to get him to continue. But he just looked at her. She took a deep breath and started.

“You make me feel so-“but she wasn’t able to finish. He pushed into her with so much force, all she could do was scream. She could see a smirk playing on his lips, he was pleased with her answer.

She felt the well-known feeling and she knew she was close. She won’t be able to hold it any longer, but she could see he was just as close as she was.

“I feel you getting tighter around me. You wanna cum, baby girl?” His voice was low and husky and she only could nod.

“Yes, please.” She somehow mumbled in between the moans.

“Look at me, let’s cum together.” Their eyes met, and like it was their trigger, his movements became sloppier and he let out a loud groan, while she screamed out his name, scratching his back. She could feel him feeling her up with his jounces and it was the best feeling.

“Oh fuck.” He mumbled, they both tried to catch a breath after an amazing experience.

“I love you.” he leaned closer and locked their lips once again. “I love you” she mumbled against his lips.

He picked her into his arms and carried her to their shared room.

Tales of Miss Fortune

Welp, this was meant to be a Blancfortune oneshot. The me and @ladyofacat had some 3 AM talks and this turned into a villain!Ladybug au. Oops. Also, if you expect plot, leave the expectations at the door lmao. This story will mostly be sexual tension escalading and Miss Fortune/Marinette driving Chat/Adrien mad.

Next 

Happy Valentine’s Day!


Chat Noir moved stealthily through the dark corridors of the Louvre. It was fights like this when he was truly grateful for his night vision. Fights in the dark were an advantage for him and he knew he needed any asset he could get when it came to fighting her. Because honestly, there was only one thief in the whole of Paris (and possibly Europe) that would go on a stealing spree without any care for the security system.

Miss Fortune.

Chat’s grip on his staff tightened as he scanned the halls for his nemesis. She was the nightmare of Paris for almost six years now. And while she was not robbing simple people, there wasn’t any museum, gallery and private collection that had been spared. And more often than Chat would have liked to admit, she got away with it. He didn’t even want to think how many millions if not billions of euros had been lost because of her. Damn her.

Chat’s eyes scanned the hall he was in, feeling a little bit creeped out by the eyes in the portraits almost following him. He was never a fan of museums at night. Sometimes he wished he could just the exact place where Miss Fortune was. Not that he was worried she will escape. She never left without a fight. More often than not, Chat felt she was doing all these robberies with a clear purpose in mind: to drive him mad. Frankly, she was succeeding. With a sigh, he stopped in place focusing on the noise. His cat ears twitched as he heard a faint noise. from somewhere afar and a little to the west.

The storehouse.

He sprinted down the hall until he was close enough to hear better. He began moving with stealth again, his steps trailing the little noises he was hearing. His tail flicked anxiously as he stepped in one of the big rooms of the basement. Boxes of all sizes, sculptures wrapped in sheets covered in dust and even some paintings lying around. The sight almost made him sad, but he didn’t have time to linger on that. He kept his guard up as he stepped further into the room, being prepared for any surprise attack. What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was a fancy chair that probably belonged in the court of Louis de 14th. Put in the middle of an empty space and illuminated strangely by some candles in the back. He immediately spun around, throwing his baton at the target behind him that triggered a noise just one second before. Only to see that there was nothing before him.

“What the… ” his curse had turned into a yowl as someone jumped into his back, managing to knock him off his feet.

A pair of soft lips brushed against his ear shell. “Hello, handsome.”

Chat struggled as she sized his hands behind his back, making it impossible for him to use them. With a grunt of annoyance, he rolled on is back, trying to get rid of her, but it only aggravated the situation as she copied his move. It ended up with a tumble on the floor, until Miss Fortune managed to tie his hands with the string of her yoyo. Chat growled as she forced him to sit in the chair and wrapped the string around his body, managing to tie him to the chair.

“You, know, I’m almost disappointed for how easy you fell for that, kitten.” she said with a pout while taking a bundle of rope off her belt. She took a few steps towards him, slow, almost teasingly. It wouldn’t be the first time when Chat felt like he was the mouse and she was the cat. “But I could forgive you if you meow for me a little.”

Adrien just glared at her, clenching his teeth. She always liked to play with him and he knew very well giving her a reaction would only make her satisfied with herself. And he was too stubborn for that. His lack of reaction seemed to only make her pout further.

“Well, then. If you aren’t in the mood of talking I’ll just get to action too. And when you think I even settled the romantic atmosphere with the candles.” with a dramatic sigh, she got on her knees in front of him.

He did his best to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks as he tried to kick her away. Miss Fortune grabbed his leg and pinned it back down with ease. Glancing up at him with a scolding look, she chided him. “Bad chaton!”

He huffed annoyed, before redirecting his attention to her, keeping a close eye for any chance to free himself. She looked away from his face, her gaze sliding over his torso and then to his crotch. And by the way her lips curled into a predatory smirk, Chat was sure he was in trouble. Humming amusedly, she settled her hands on his thighs before spreading his legs wide open.

“What are you doing?” to his ultimate embarrassment, that was very much a squeak.

“Oh, but please, tell me, kitten. What happens usually when you have someone kneeling between your spread legs?”

Chat really wanted to give a witty reply, but frankly, he was pretty brain dead when she was staring at him with those bedroom eyes. Why was he cursed with a weakness for blue eyes?

And as if that wasn’t enough, she began running her hands up and down his thighs, agonizingly slow. And the suit wasn’t doing anything to decrease the feeling. It only stopped the pain from big hits, but gentle touches? They felt as if there was nothing between them besides a very thin sheet of silk. Chat beat his lips as she rested her head on his left thigh, her fingers trailing closer and closer to his crotch.  He closed his eyes, trying to think about the most unpleasant things in the world, just not to get a boner. He could never forgive himself if he got a boner from her teasing in front of her.

(He got boners because of her before and he wouldn’t bother lying, but frankly, he was in private.)

She would never let him live it down. As if she didn’t wound his pride enough these years. That would be the last drop. He felt Miss Fortune shift and then, something being wrapped around his ankles. He opened his eyes only to find his ankles tied and Miss Fortune smirking up at him, some rope still in her hands.

“I liked you tied up.” he remarked casually before putting the rope over her shoulder and sitting in his lap.

Chat hissed. She was warm. And he had no doubt the way she was grinding on him, slowly was with a clear purpose in mind. Chat wanted to scream. Why couldn’t he have a normal enemy? One that found pleasure in kicking his ass, not in sexually frustrating him? No, apparently that was too much to ask for. When he accepted being a superhero he certainly didn’t expect almost six years of flirting, banter and sexual tension that just seemed to increase in the latest months.

Miss Fortune nuzzled his nose. That gesture was way too sweet for someone who looked like she was one step away from eating him alive while dry humping him. And there was so much he could do to stop his dick from going hard while someone was grinding on him and it felt very much like it was skin on skin. Miss Fortune seemed extremely happy with her results so far.

“Do you like this, kitten?” she whispered in his ear in a sultry voice as she increased her rhythm, her hot core moving faster against his boner.

Chat let out a moan, dropping his head against her shoulder. This was humiliating, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much when he felt so good. He will regret this later, he knew, but frankly, he had limits where he simply couldn’t resist anymore. Miss Fortune was running her hands all over his body and Chat realized a few seconds too late she was tying him the rope and retrieving her yoyo.

“I fucking hate you.” he growled through gritted teeth. For what, he wasn’t sure. For being a nightmare to Paris? For humiliating him like that? For the fact that he was actually enjoying it? For outwitting him?

There was a slight gasp and soon all the warmth was gone. He looked up to see Miss Fortune glaring at him.

“That was the wrong thing to say.” she hissed before getting something out of a box on the side. “Bad kitties get punished.”

The next thing he knew was that Miss Fortune was leaning towards him with a piece of duct tape in her hands. She pressed it against his lips, before a smirk appeared on her face. She tilted her head, pressing her lips against his through the duct tape before gluing it to his face.

“That was for the language. You should learn how to dirty talk, kitten. ” she straightened her back. “You were very rude, I liked you better when you were moaning. And because you said that, then I won’t make you cum anymore.”

Going to another box that was laying near, she picked two pieces of jewelry. The turned to him, raising them for him to see.

“They supposedly belonged to Madame de Pompadour. And given you are here, I want to ask you for an opinion. Which one do you think fits me better?”

She raised each pair to her ears. “The sapphire ones or the ruby ones?” Chat gave an annoyed growl making er giggle. “Oopsie, I forgot I duct taped you. Oh well, nod once for sapphire, nod twice for ruby.”

She looked throughout amused as he didn’t react anyhow. “Well, I guess you are right. I should take both.”

Chat glared at her as she put the two pairs of earrings in one of her belt satchels.

“See you next time, beau gosse.” she said with a smirk, blowing him a kiss.

And with that, she simply strutted out of the hall, leaving a very annoyed Chat Noir with an unsolved boner behind.

blame that picture of Louis with a horse, I take no responsibility for any of this.

~*~

Louis can’t remember the last time the smell of hay and old leather came to him and made him feel safe instantly, but that it’s been too long is what he knows for certain. He lets the smell settle into his bones, breathes in deep, and promptly forgets about everything that had been waiting at the tip of his tongue. 

Quite frankly, when Harry had given him the address of where to pick him up earlier, Louis hadn’t been prepared. The last thing he’d expected was to be led into old stables and be confronted with real life horses for the first time in years. What he expected even less was to see Harry on one of said horses, elegantly making his way through the riding hall with a straighter posture than Louis has ever seen on him when he’s with both feet on the ground.

It takes his breath away. Harry is beautiful, sat on top of the white Arabian as if he’s royalty, and the two of them together are a team that Louis wishes he could look at forever and put in his pocket to take out and treasure whenever he feels that deep burn in his veins again. 

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Harry Styles - Stops Wedding - Imagine

[Thank you!  Enjoy!]


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Someone to Stay - AU

Previous chapters

Chapter 3

“And this happened, how?”

Claire probed gently into the child’s scalp, retreating when his shoulders hunched in pain. The boy glanced up at her, smiling sheepishly. Fergus - as his chart read – reached out for his mother’s hand, who held it tightly with worry since walking into A&E.

“I was playing with my friends, in the backyard of Louis’s house. There were some rocks there and we took turns to see who could throw one the furthest, you know?” His legs started swinging back on forth, as he recounted his tale.

“Yes, I know,” Claire rolled her eyes, but smiled gently. “Continue.”

“And Louis took this giant rock and heaved it at the chain-link fence that separates his yard from the neighbors’ and the rock bounced back and hit me in the head. It hurt a lot, but I was alright, but then my friends started yelling something awful, and I felt a tickle on my face. It was my blood, a whole lot of it!” Fergus’s eyes grew wide in remembrance, and turned a little pale again. His mother squeezed his hand, shaking her head at the boys’ exploits.

“I see. Well, here’s the doctor now!” Claire swept aside as Dr. Abernathy joined them in the small room. “He’ll have you set to rights in no time.”

Claire assisted Dr. Abernathy as he anesthetized the area, and began suturing the torn scalp. Fergus cried out but once, and then pursed his lips bravely, while his mother turned away from the needle. In about twenty minutes, the doctor was done, and was busy giving the boy’s mother instructions on how to care for the wound and reassuring Fergus he would have a small “wicked scar” to show off to his friends.

Claire smiled and waved goodbye at the retreating patient. She began the final touches on the necessary paperwork before filing away the information at the nurses’ station. Her head bent over the documents, a shadow was suddenly cast over the paper.

“Claire.”

She froze.

It had been four weeks since she’d last heard that voice. She wouldn’t pretend now that she hadn’t thought about it, or even missed it sometimes, but it was still unexpected. Fighting to get her features into control before they became transparent on her glass face, she took a deep breath and raised her head to look at him.

Frank’s face was the same, handsome and refined, with deep lines etched into the corners of his mouth. At times amused, others worried or even angry, today the lines told a story of contrition. Claire didn’t feel like reading it.

She set her lips into a straight line, and stared at Frank. She refused to be the one to speak first, and damned if she thought it was good to see him again, the lying cheating bastard.

“You lying, cheating bastard.” So much for self control.

“Claire, please…” Frank’s hands – so polished, so genteel – reached out to her, pleading, but not quite touching. “Listen, I have—“

“Nothing to say, and nothing I want to hear. I want you to leave.” Claire pushed her chair back, tossing the pen onto the papers and striding out of the nurses’ station, Frank right behind her.

“I know what I did was stupid, and unfair, and you did not deserve to find out like that, Claire, I’m sorry!” Once outside the A&E doors, he grasped her shoulder to stop her.

Claire whirled and shoved him back, catching him unawares. “No, I did not deserve that at all, you wanker!” She pushed her hair out of her face, and let her rage fly. “Four years, you sodding bastard! Four years of my life that I will never get back!” She walked back, tears streaming uncontrollably; after her trip to Scotland, back in London she had refused all contact with Frank, pushing him out of her thoughts and out of her life. He had made attempts, but she had changed her number and slept often at the hospital through endless shifts. Avoiding, resisting, trying to heal. “Go away!”

“Claire, I mean to explain and I want you to listen. Let’s go.” Frank came at her, intending to take her by the arm and drag her away somewhere they could talk without witnesses to his disgrace. His hand, poised to grab her, was slapped away by a figure looming behind Claire.

“I believe the lady asked ye to go.” That soft, burred cadence. Claire turned to find Jamie Fraser himself standing behind her, his eyes a steely blue. His gaze was trained on Frank, who retreated minutely in the face of this new threat.

“I don’t think this is any of your business. Leave us alone to talk, will you?” Frank’s bravado lasted all of ten seconds until Jamie stepped out from behind Claire and asserted his height and breadth of shoulder. In his black leather jacket and unkempt red hair he looked positively dangerous.

She had no words for what was unfolding before her, confused at seeing Jamie in London at her place of work, and watching him defend her from Frank’s unwelcome advances. Her heart surged with adrenaline; whether her fight response or Jamie’s presence was responsible, she didn’t know.

“Frank, please, just go. There’s nothing else to say,” Claire said. Jamie remained still as a statue in front of her, shielding her from Frank. Frank tried to peer around the tall Scot’s figure, but Jamie wouldn’t let him make eye contact.

“Ye heard her. Go now, before I make ye.” Jamie turned to Claire, and gestured towards the hospital doors. “Inside, mo nighean donn,  and call security if ye must.” The time elapsed had felt like hours to her, but only a few minutes had actually passed. Crossing the A&E doors, Dr. Abernathy met her and caught her by the elbows as Claire trembled slightly.

“Claire? What is it? Do you need help?” The good doctor glanced outside and watched the confrontation. “Who’s that?”

“Frank,” Claire managed. “He showed up, wanted to speak with me. I said no. He followed me outside, and then—well, Jamie was there.”

“I take it Jamie is the redhead. Here, Lady Jane.” Dr. Abernathy, calling Claire by his nickname for her, led her to an empty chair in the waiting room. Outside, Jamie called out to Frank using what sounded like a few choice curse words in Gaelic as Claire’s former partner disappeared around the corner, the back of his neck flushed red in anger.

Claire breathed a sigh of relief. Jamie walked through the automatic doors, and his eyes immediately went to Dr. Abernathy holding Claire’s hand in support. They tightened momentarily before his face broke out in a gentle smile.

“Hi, I’m Jamie, a friend of Claire’s.” He held out a large hand, forcing the doctor to relinquish his hold on her.

“I’m Joe Abernathy, a colleague of Claire’s. Thank you for your help, man. Lady Jane here was having a pretty rough time of it.” He shook Jamie’s hand fiercely in gratitude, and palmed his shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. LJ, take your break now, why don’t you.” Behind Jamie’s unsuspecting back, Dr. Abernathy winked and strolled off.

Claire flushed, cursing her glass face once again. She’d be lying (but only to herself) if she hadn’t thought about Jamie every once in a while for the past few weeks. A little. She glanced up at Jamie, who took a seat beside her on the uncomfortable chairs.

He broke the silence first. “Lady Jane?”

She took a deep breath and managed a smile. “Just a nickname Joe has for me. He’s American, and found my English accent hilarious when he first arrived.”

“And the other one? The rude one?” Jamie frowned.

“Thank you so much Jamie. That was… unexpected. Frank shouldn’t have been here,” said Claire, shuddering briefly.

“Frank. Was he yer bad romantic experience?”

“You remember that?” Claire asked in surprise.

“I remember many things about ye. Mostly, how I forgot to ask for yer number last time we met,” Jamie grinned. “Ye didn’t offer either, so…”

“So how come you’re here?” Claire blurted out before she could stop herself. Jamie brushed his hand against the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Weel—seeing as I had no way of contacting ye or even yer surname to go by, I asked Rupert. He was verra much enamored of yer friend Geillis, and he asked her about ye. For me, ye ken.”

“You’re in London. I thought you were on tour.”

“We’ve done with the tour. I wanted talk to ye. See ye, mebbe. Ask ye to join me for dinner, perhaps.”

Claire felt the telltale flush creeping up her neck once more. She looked down at her hands, twisting in her lap. She didn’t know what to say to this man. This unexpected savior who had come all the way from God knew where. To see her. Just her.

“I… don’t know. I don’t know what to say.” Claire felt the uncontrollable urge to laugh or cry. And she didn’t know if she wanted to hug or strangle Geillis.

“Claire. I dinna mean to push ye now.” Jamie leaned in. “It doesna have to be dinner. I’ll take whatever ye can give me. Coffee, if ye like. A cup of water from the cooler would do as well.”

“But why?” She met his eyes this time; she let him have a glimpse of the turmoil inside, the furious pain and anger of betrayal that still raged within. The feeling that would not let her open up quite yet. Perhaps ever.

“Why? You’re bonny, have eyes like whiskey and a strength about ye—“

“Strength?” Claire’s voice shook slightly. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do. I understand yer wounds are raw and smartin’ and I respect that. I just want to get to know ye a bit better, as a friend. I’ll not ask for more than ye want to give. Is that alright?”

“Coffee.” Coffee with a friend was alright. No danger there. They had already had coffee before.

Jamie’s smile was blinding. “Coffee is fine. When?”

“Tomorrow? 6 o’clock.” Before she could change her mind, she stood. “I must get back to my shift.”

“I’ll be here. Til 6 then.” He unfolded himself gracefully from the chair and strode to the doors.

“Oh, and Jamie?” He turned.

“It’s Beauchamp. Claire Beauchamp.”

moondoggiestyle  asked:

things you said after you kissed me + lirry or narry :)

“You’re a twat,” Niall says, spins on his heel, stomps out of the kitchen.

“Niall, wait,” Harry starts, but Niall’s not interested. In any of it.

He doesn’t want any of it, not the soft brush of Harry’s lips against his, or the helpless sounds that Harry makes in the back of his throat, or the squeeze of Harry’s hips under Niall’s greedy fingers, or the complete vulnerability that comes with being in love with Harry Styles.

He used to want that. But he’s grown now. Things have changed.

They’ve had nearly four years and careers and kids and time for things to grow and time for things to fall away.

Niall looks out the glass door to the backyard, watches Liam and Louis smoke and shoot the shit next to the grill. This was supposed to be the weekend they figure their shit out. It’s not supposed to be the weekend Harry corners him in the kitchen and tries to snog him senseless.

“Look at me,” Harry says from behind him, and doesn’t everybody at every moment of the day want the pleasure to. Harry’d have the whole world looking his way, if he really wanted to.

Niall kids himself for as long as he can, tells himself he doesn’t have to do whatever Harry asks him to, even though some three minutes ago, he’d kissed Harry because Harry asked him to.

“Don’t touch me again.”

“I won’t,” Harry says quietly. He’s looking at his shoes when Niall looks at him.

“Where d’you get off, doing a thing like that?”

Harry quirks an eyebrow. “I didn’t get off, wasn’t that much of a kiss.”

“Now is not the time for one of your jokes, mate. I swear to god.”

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Harry zipped up his bag and carried it to the door. Paul had thought of everything, except for Harry’s hair products. He had washed his hair this morning, but looked like a mess because the hotel’s shampoo had turned his hair into one dry mass.  

Texting Barbara, he paced the room, waiting to be picked up. She texted back immediately, reassuring him that they’d get his hair in order before the first interview for the day.

He stopped the pacing when he thought of Louis. His skin prickled with the memories of last night, with the feeling of Louis’ fingers had left all over Harry. He touched a bruise on his hip, losing focus.

Last night had certainly been hot. A one time thing, but hot nevertheless. Something to remember. Louis had been demanding, and at the same time he’d seemed so giving, a little insecure even. Harry reckoned he’d been the same. After all, they didn’t know each other well, and didn’t know the other’s boundaries and preferences.

Yet, Harry had felt like they had slotted together quite well. It had been easy to read Louis, to understand his body language. In the same way, Harry hadn’t needed to use words to make Louis understand what it had been he’d wanted. Louis had simply known, had read every single one of Harry’s needs before he had the chance to voice them.

Harry had left Louis’ room after the third time getting each other off. They hadn’t really talked in between. Whenever Louis had said a word, Harry had shut him up with a kiss, and every kiss had led to them riling each other up again. Louis had complained the whole time, but every complaint had been accentuated with him biting Harry’s skin, a low moan, or a loud whine. Even if he had been complaining about hating Harry, hating himself for getting into bed with Harry, he had been into it, and had complained even louder each time Harry had withdrawn.

There was no doubt that Louis had wanted it the same way Harry had.

Hopefully now, they’d be able to move on from it. The tension between them was solved, they had given into the attraction. With that, they should’ve got it out of their systems. Looking at Louis now, Harry wouldn’t think about kissing him, or what it would be like to touch him, to make him moan. He was over it now. That’d make working with Louis so much easier from here on.

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Chapter VIII | Tell Me - A Harry Styles Uni AU

Main Story page is here.

Song for the Playlist - Like I’m Gonna Lose You by Jasmine Thompson

Instagrams are here - (none for this chapter, again, because the app is still being a dick)

Word Count - 4000…ish

“Fine,” he snapped back. “Do you want to go to A&E?”

“No.” Her head lulled to the side, eyes closed.

“Right,” he began again, sternly. “Look, you either get up and get in bed or we go to hospital if you can’t move. Your call.”

“Mate,” Niall interrupted. “If she can’t move to the bed, then she’s not gonna be able to get to the hospital, is she?”

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2

Sunflower

19

“Come in, come in!” My mother ushered the two of us inside.

I was cringing at my state already, but I refused to let go of Harry’s hand. Even when my mother opened her arms to him, expecting a hug, I made the experience very awkward for him because I just didn’t let go.
He leant down to her, receiving a warm welcome.

“You must be Harry.” She said the obvious.

“So I’ve been told.” Harry replied.

He gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek before he withdrew, and I wondered if Curls just had this effect on mothers, because my mum was swooning just looking at him. He’d said four words and I could tell she was smitten.

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Cracked Eggs

“Daddy! Daddy look! I found another one!”

Lisa ran up to me, holding the white and pink printed egg. I laughed and held the basket forward. “Good job, pumpkin! That makes how many now?”

For a few seconds, Lisa counted up each one before she straightened herself and beamed.

“Six! I found six!”

“That’s right! That’s my smart girl!”

And there were still dozens more it appeared.

Ever since I was a kid, our church has done an egg hunt. Some years it would be lucky if there was five or six little ones popping about searching for egg shaped goodies, but this year there was decently large group. I think there was around maybe fifteen or twenty kids, all under the age of eight, running around the church green. Eggs were positively everywhere this year, from plain sight on the green to hidden in the garden that was donated as according to Ms. Louis’ will. She’d always appreciated the love of God through nature, and a garden was the best she could do.

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Otome Sitch: Fatherhood

Continuing with the last otome sitch, where you have a pregnancy scare, this time Precious Anon requested the suitors as fathers! 

Three of these suitors are fathers canonically in at least one of their routes: two from MidCin and one from SLBP. 

I used a random generator, and kept randomizing until I got these three daddios in the proper category, boy or girl, for the baby that they have in their routes. 

Here we go! 

Shigezane and Kyo are the laid-back, cool dads. They know all of the latest slang, but thankfully don’t embarrass their sons by using it in front of their friends. For the most part. There have been some cringe-worthy slip-ups. 

They enjoy a close relationship with their boys, but that time they spotted their son in town and jogged over to say “hi,” only to realize that their son was walking hand-in-hand with his girlfriend, gave them a pang of longing for the days when he was only knee-high.

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Harry Styles - Louis Was Your Childhood Bully Imagine - Part Two



[Part One]


You had hoped that once you pointed out to Harry the dislike his best friend had for you that he might have a chat with him about it. You learned though, very quickly, that he did not. You and Harry had taken to hang out with the guys often after that first initial meeting. 

While with Niall and Liam you got on amazingly well, Louis, well with Louis you just tried to keep your distance. He still shot you the occasional glare when Harry’s back was turned, did his best to bring up stories you had tried your hardest to forget from your time in school, grinning with satisfaction when he noticed the look of discomfort on your face. Louis was winning at this little game he was playing, and he knew it. 

Louis treatment of you was starting to cause a rift between you and Harry. You tried to talk to him about it again, or point out the moments Louis jokes had turned but Harry still just didn’t get it. Maybe he just didn’t want to think so badly of Louis, but no matter the reason, it was hurting you that he was doing nothing to try and come to your aid when you confided in him how upset you were over the situation. 

“Love, he is just playin’.” Harry told you one day, pulling you close against his chest after you had walked out of your living room when Louis made a joke about how much you had eaten. “We’re all mates, he didn’t mean it in a rude way, I promise.” You rest your forehead against Harry’s chest, taking in deep breaths to try and will the tears not to come. 

“You just don’t get it, Harry.” As you said this, your face screws up, unable to control it, as the tears leaked out. Harry kisses the top of your head and pulls back, taking your shoulders in his hands. He saw now, the tears flowing down your cheeks and the hollowness to your breath, that whether or not Louis was in fact joking, you were hurt by all of this and he should have listened to you. 

“I’ll talk to him, alrigh’?” That was all you ever wanted Harry to do. You didn’t want him to stop being friends with Louis. You would never ask that, especially as Harry and him worked together, but maybe if Harry talked to him about it Louis would lay off. You could only hope. You felt like you were in grade school again with the jokes, the ridiculing, the cruel laughter following you even after you left the room. “’m sorry I haven’ said anythin’ to him ye’.” You take in a deep and shaky breath and shake your head. 

“S’okay.” You give him a small smile but the crease that had formed between his brows stays in place. He brings one large hand up to your cheek, his thumb sliding across your track of tears. “Thank you for believing me now.” 

“I guess I jus’ didn’ wan’ to believe he actually was hurting you. I jus’ want the most importan’ people in my life to ge’ along.” You give a nod, understanding completely. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips. When you pull back he dips his face back for another soft kiss. “You alrigh’, then?” He wonders, a look of concern on his face. 

“I will be.” You wanted to be honest with him, you wanted him to know that you weren’t okay with this entire situation and thankfully now he finally understood. 

“I’ll go talk to him now.” You give a nod and a small smile before stepping out of the warm and comforting circle of Harry’s arms. 

“I think I’m going to go lay down for a bit, try to relax.” You tell him. His look of concern was still present but he nods. He hated to think that he had allowed you to have to endure his best friend doing this but he truly didn’t know that it was this bad but he realized now that Louis wasn’t just playing around, he had a serious dislike for the girl Harry was in love with and he didn’t like it. “Thank you.” You say quietly, leaning in to kiss him one last time before you turn and head for the hall. Harry watches you go, wishing he could take your pain and unhappiness away from you right that second but he knew the only way to help now was a conversation with his best friend. 

“Hey, mate, can we have a chat?” He asks Louis once he was back in the living room where the three friends were sat watching a football game. 

“Sure, mate.” Louis stands from the couch and follows Harry from the room. “What is it?” He asked once they got to the kitchen. Louis thought he knew, especially after Harry had disappeared with you but he would play dumb for just a bit before he admitted outright that he disliked you. 

“Why don’ you like Y/N?” Harry questions, leaning against the counter behind him, his tattooed arms crossing lazily across his chest as he watched Louis from across the room. He was trying to study his face, gauge his reaction to this question but Louis simply laughed. 

“And who says I don’t like her?” He asks then once he stopped his laughter. “Did she say that? She’s just tryin’ to come between us, mate.” Harry had been expecting this and earlier in the day would have believed it but after seeing the love of his life reduced to tears because of the words Louis had spoken, he knew that wasn’t it at all. 

“She told me tha’ you used to bully her in school.” The idea that you had to endure bullying, much less from the man standing across from him now, made an ache start in the very center of his chest and grow outward. The idea of anyone being bullied was enough to cause that ache but knowing the two involved made it worse. “Is tha’ true?” Harry pressed when Louis didn’t answer but he noted that Louis was looking anywhere but at Harry. 

“It was jus’ a bit of school yard fun. I was neveh serious.” He finally looked up and met Harry’s green eyes. “I haven’ treated her like that since we met, I promise.” But Harry knew that was a lie. He had just heard him going off on you not even ten minutes before. 

“She says tha’ you are and I heard your commen’ to her earlier in there.” Louis rolls his eyes now and gives a sigh. 

“So what do you want me to do? Go and apologize? Grovel at her feet?” Louis was done with this conversation. He never imagined you would go running to Harry about this, especially since you had never told on him for back in school. 

“I wan’ to know why you don’ like, and are rude to, the love of my life, the girl I plan on spendin’ the rest of my life with. I would really like two of the mos’ importan’ people in my life to get along.” Louis sighs again and takes a step back, giving a small pace across the large kitchen. 

“I guess when I saw her walk in with you that day at Niall’s everything from school jus’ came out. She was always such a brat back then, a teachers pet, acted like she was betteh than everyone else.” He explains but as he hears him say it, he knows that was back then and that this was now and that he shouldn’t have passed judgement so quickly and harshly as he himself had changed quite a bit since school so why couldn’t have you? And you must have, for someone as caring and compassionate as Harry to fall for you. 

“Is it true you told her that you can make her leave? Tha’ she was only with me for my money? That day at Niall’s, she told me you said tha’ but I figured you had just been concerned for me bu’ now I see it was jus’ because you don’t like her.” Louis had hoped you hadn’t told Harry that as hearing it back he realized just how shitty that was. 

“Look, I’m sorry, mate, truly. I will go apologize to her and will lay off. I promise.” And he meant it. Old school yard problems didn’t need to continue on into adulthood. If Harry cared for you as much as he appeared and said he did, you must not be as bad as Louis quickly judged you would be. 

“Leave the apology until tomorrow, she went to rest for a bit but I really do appreciate that.” Louis gives a nod. 

“We good then?” Harry laughs and nods, moving forward to hug Louis tightly before stepping back, smiling at him. 

“Of course. Just had to look out for my girl, ya know?” Louis nods, also smiling. 

“I am happy for you, mate. I’ve never seen you like this in a relationship before.” Louis noted the way that Harry’s face lit up then and he realized he truly meant that. Harry was the happiest he had ever been in the years Louis had known him and for that he should be grateful for you, and he was. 

“She’s somethin’ special.” Louis nods and hugs Harry again before the two go and rejoin the other two. Once the football match had been over, the guys left and Harry went in search of you. He found you snuggled up into his pillow, fast asleep. He grinned, kicked off his shoes and slid into the large bed beside you. His arms wrapping tight around your hips jolted you away but you sighed when you realized who it was. 

“Oh, hey.” You mutter, turning to snuggle into his warm chest. You give a content sigh as he rubs your back and places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “Are the guys gone?” 

“Yeah,” Harry answers, still rubbing your back, his fingers lingering a bit on the spots he knew you got sore occasionally. “I had a chat with Louis.” 

“Yeah? How did it go?” You were mumbling a bit as your face was still buried in the soft fabric of the t-shirt he was wearing. 

“He apologized, said he will apologize to you nex’ time he sees you. He also said he was happy for me, tha’ I’ve never been like this in a relationship before.” You smile against his chest and he kisses the top of your head once more. “And he’s righ’. I’ve never been this happy.” You lift your head up to meet his stunning green eyes, both of you smiling at one another. 

“Me neither.” You whisper before your lips find his. You were happy that it seemed things with Louis would be better from now on. You wouldn’t have to worry about all of the snide comments, rude glares, and harassment anytime you were in a room together. Finally you would just be able to enjoy your time with Harry and his best friends. That was all you ever wanted and you were glad Harry wasn’t mad at you for saying you were unhappy with Louis and that he cared enough to speak with him. You really were so lucky to have him, and oh so happy.

Harry Styles Cooks... Volume 1: The Baking Years

In which Louis Tomlinson can’t cook, there’s a very special shower curtain, and Harry Styles used to be a baker. 

Or: Louis owns all of Harry Styles’ cookbooks, and he never intends to cook a single thing out of any of them. 

Or: I don’t know what the fuck this is, sorry. 

Louis Tomlinson can’t cook. He can, for the most part, feed himself and generally keep himself alive, in a frozen pizza, tins of soup, cereal-for-dinner kind of a way. He can do pasta and sauce, and cheese on toast, and sandwiches, and microwave meals and things which require zero attention, zero skill, and even less enthusiasm. Louis Tomlinson likes Tesco meal deals for lunch and cans of coke on the way to the bus stop after work. He likes bags of crisps, and the biscuit tin by the printer in his office.

He has a long list of things he doesn’t like – including but not limited to courgettes, baked beans, couscous, fish, posh sausages that taste of stuff that isn’t pork, vegetables on principle, drinks that are green, kale, stuff they sell in Waitrose, mushrooms, weird fruit, lentils, and pineapple on pizza.

All of this is perfectly normal and doesn’t bother Louis one little bit.

It doesn’t, however, go any way to explaining why Louis has an entire shelf in his bedroom devoted to Harry Styles cookbooks, or why his best mates Liam and Niall bought him a custom-made Harry Styles Cooks… pillowcase and duvet set for his birthday last year, with Harry Styles’ ridiculous face plastered all across it like on the titles of his stupid cooking TV show, or why Louis had to buy a DVR purely to save all the stupid episodes of each of Harry Styles’ stupid cooking series so he could watch them whenever he wanted. It definitely didn’t explain the three different Harry Styles-themed mugs in the kitchen cupboards, and it 100% did not explain the special shower curtain.

There obviously is an explanation for all of that, but it isn’t something that Louis can file under any sort of ‘wants to learn to cook’ headline.

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Chapter III | Tell Me - A Harry Styles Uni AU

Main Story page is here.

Song for the Playlist - It Ain’t Me by Kygo (with Selena Gomez)

Instagrams are here.

Word Count - 5250…ish

“Great, ten past twelve at Euston station. All I wanted when the train we were booked on left exactly one minute ago,” Eden looked at her companion, blame written all over her face.

“Shower,” he reminded her.

“Sunglasses.”

“Look,” Harry began to walk to find the ticket office. “We’ll ask to see if we can just exchange them for the next train and if not then we just pay up and live off beans on toast when we come back after New Year, not like we haven’t struggled before.”

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Single parent fics are one of my BIGGEST weaknesses. I’ve read all these fics and they’re wonderful! If there’s a fic you love that’s not on this list please let me know so I can read it and include it in the next single parent fic rec I make!


If My Heart Was a Compass, You’d be North, 55k

All Louis really cares about is his skateboard, tattoos, football, and his family. He has a job that he (mostly) loves and a (small) handful of good friends, and at 24 he is pretty content with his life… until he nearly crashes into a boy with wild curls and cratered dimples, he begins to think maybe he’s been missing something he never knew was missing. That missing piece is apparently big enough for two.

[Or the one where punk Louis likes to think he’s not clumsy, but he suspects he’ll have to accept it when he falls face first into a relationship with a head full of curls and his tiny human.]

A Life That We Share (I Owe It All to You), 50k

When Harry’s son came home from school crying he didn’t think things could get any worse. Lucky for them, things were just about to change for the best.

or Harry’s son get bullied until Louis’ son shows up.

Beautiful Star, 17k

“You know, when I pegged you for a druglord, I wasn’t exactly challenging you to make me believe that you actually are one. What is this place?” Louis says after he swallows over the mild panic that’s building up in his throat over the fact that he’s literally sitting in front of the cause of his teenage sexuality crisis.

or, the famous/nonfamous kid!fic AU wherein harry and louis have to host a school Christmas party and harry isn’t actually a drug lord.

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Random Musings of the Day: BatB AUs

Aka, the Victorian!AU and the Modern-Day Royals!AU that nobody asked for!

Let’s start with the Victorians:

  • Partially inspired by Robert and Cora Crawley’s backstory on Downton Abbey and this post/book recommendation by @je-suis-em-jee: “A Scot in the Dark” by Sarah MacLean. 
  • Also a result of my frustration over other such AUs that insist on making Belle a maid under Beast’s employ (she’s not Cinderella folks; if you want to do the respectable-but-still-under-your-employment-route take a queue from Jane Eyre and make her a governess to Chip or something), and don’t consider the historical background and social consequences for said actions (to be fair there would still be scandal if a gentleman married his governess, but less so than if he ran off with the maid. Also maids weren’t considered to be educated ladies whereas governesses were, and that bought them some respectability). 
  • Anyway, rant over; let us move on!
  • Setting: London, England c. mid-1880s.
  • Isabelle “Belle” Prentiss is the daughter of famed society painter Marcus Prentiss. She has recently come into an impressive fortune on her mother’s side, as her uncle had no children of his own to leave it to. Great news, right? Wrong! Because said uncle left a condition in his will that she must marry to secure her inheritance, and if not the money will pass to some distant relative. In spite of the recent Women’s Property Acts of 1870 and 1882 that allow women to maintain their own property, Belle has to be legally married to obtain the money in accordance to the will. No exceptions. 
  • Normally Belle would say the Victorian equivalent of “fuck you!” and move on (she’s not going to marry for the sake of money, thank you very much), but the problem is….she needs the money. Business has been bad for her father and now he’s taken ill, which means bills have been piling up. To make matters worse that cursed libertine Captain Grayson Lockwood (Gaston) has been making unwanted advances towards her, and has placed her in a position that will leave her in disgrace unless she marries him. It’s bad enough that she even has to consider marriage to save her father, but to Grayson!? Uggh. He’ll never treat her with the love and respect she craves, and will likely try to take control of her inheritance, of this she is certain. What’s a girl to do?
  • Enter His Grace Adam Beaumont (Beast), 9th Duke of Sheffield and master of the dilapidated Balmore Castle. He’s been subjected to a series of high society scandals in his youth, and suffered from an accident a few years back that left him visibly scarred on the left-side of his face. The society to which he rightly belongs might pander to his face because of his name, but behind his back gossip, and baseless rumours about a violent, monster like nature start to spread. Mothers hide their daughters rather than put them in his path as potential wives. Better a live Countess than a savaged Duchess (paraphrased from @romancingthebookworm). These rumours, combined with his quick temper and reclusive nature has earned him the nickname “The Beast of Balmore.” And the sad thing is, Adam has started to believe it. 
  • He’s also land-rich but cash-broke and needs to marry a wealthy heiress to secure the estate for the next generation, else he lose his family’s legacy forever. So he makes the trip to London to mingle amongst the hypocrites of the aristocracy, a society he once so loved, to find said bride.
  • Fate brings our Beauty and Beast together and they….get on as well as two dogs in a bear-baiting ring. 
  • All joking and terrible first-meetings aside, Adam makes a deal with Belle: marry him, help him secure the financial future of Balmore and she can maintain her inheritance, provide for her father, save her reputation and never want for anything ever again. 
  • How can she say no to that?
  • ….Actually, she almost did, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and hey, at least he’s allowing her to keep some of her autonomy. That’s certainly more than what Grayson was offering. Besides, there are no better offers coming her way.  
  • So a secret wedding is hastily arranged and there’s a great deal of muttering about this (there are some particularly salacious rumours that go along the lines of: “My word, what’s going to happen when a Beast takes a bride, wink-wink, nudge-nudge?”), and Belle leaves London as the Duchess of Sheffield to live with her new husband that she barely knows (and is slightly intimidated by) in this crumbling, far-off castle in the Peak District away from any traces of civilization. 
  • But when she actually gets to Balmore, Belle is pleasantly surprised to discover a house that, while in need of repairs, is full of unexpected beauty: decorous rooms, fine galleries, gardens hidden behind stone walls, a library filled with more books than she could ever read in a lifetime.
    • An incident occurs three weeks after her arrival in which she and Adam get into a huge row and she storms out of the house, hitching up her her chosen horse Philippe and heading off into the storm. She rides, faster and faster into the hills, wanting to get away from that gilded cage she’s forced to call home, to get away from that man, that Beast, when she’s suddenly set upon by wolves. She manages to hold them off until Adam arrives, who had followed her out, being more familiar with the surrounding woods than she, and helps her, but also gets injured in the process. She helps him back to Balmore and tends to him, whereupon she finds his scars and learns more about his accident and the cruelty he endured at the hands of his father. It’s not the beginnings of love, or even friendship, but it’s an understanding, and Belle begins to see him in a new light. 
    • Afterwards, while reading to him as he recovers, Belle brings up Romeo and Juliet, and dismayed at the thought of a wife whose tastes are so limited Adam brings her to the library for the first time. The look of joy on her face fills him with such warmth, a strange sort of pleasure through her own pleasure, and he gifts it to her on the spot. That is when the true turning point of their relationship occurs. 
  • She makes friends amongst the household staff: kindly and motherly Mrs. Potts, the housekeeper who always has a fresh pot of tea on hand, and her sweet son Chip; Cogsworth the Butler, who despite his stuffiness keeps the place orderly and is an asset to Belle when she inquires after management affairs; first footman Louis Meir (nicknamed Lumiere) who keeps everyone’s spirits up and knows how to put on a good show; the French maid Plumette, who becomes Belle’s lady’s maid and closest confidante, helping her adjust to the demands of her new position.
  • Things between her and Adam are still a bit awkward, but gradually the barriers begin to break down as they start to spend more time together, bonding over books and Shakespeare, and taking walks in the gardens or going for rides. Slowly, slowly the monster she initially saw is replaced by a man with gentle blue eyes and an inquisitive mind; one whose emotional pain is as evident as the scars on his face, but not so deep to mar the beauty of his soul. 
    • Other bonding activities include: private dinners, dances, a fancy ball where Belle dresses up in an 1880s bustle version of her yellow ball gown (actually that was one of the reasons I set it in this period. You can’t deny Belle’s dress would be a GORGEOUS as a bustle gown, especially with the design and pleating on the back), and a moment where Adam comforts her during a thunderstorm because Belle. hates. thunderstorms.
    • As for possible sexy-times…..I’ll leave that to @je-suis-em-jee and @dereksprettyboy (I can’t write smut to save my life; they’re so much better with that kind of thing). 
  • Within the year they are truly in love, and things have never been better for the estate or for each other. 
  • They have a second wedding the following spring, followed by a proper honeymoon traversing France and Italy. 

And now the Modern Royals:

  • I don’t have this one nearly as well-thought out, other than it has a sort-of ‘Princess Diaries’ vibe to it. If anyone wants to add on please do. 
  • The Beast is His Serene Highness Jean Mathieu Yvain François Adam de Montmorency (once again, with the exception of the last bit, is curtesy of @je-suis-em-jee), Sovereign Prince of Bergerais. Bergerais is a fictional European Principality situated between France, Belgium, Luxembourg and Germany (you get the idea), and one of the few that managed to survive the chaos of two World Wars and the general upheavals of the twentieth century. 
  • That being said, the Princely Family doesn’t have the greatest reputation at the moment; it’s one rife with scandal and intrigue caused by Adam’s father (and later through him), but now that he’s ascended to the throne it’s time for him to clean up his act. 
  • Isabelle “Belle” Dubois comes into the Prince’s life one way or another (college? a high society event? she gets hired as tutor/governess to his younger brother Chip? or as a new addition to his PR team? IDK) and as typical of all BatB stories they don’t hit it off immediately
  • But shit happens and they become friends, then they slowly begin to fall in love; then Adam proposes and Belle has to adjust to life as a future Princess Consort in the twenty-first century with the aid of Plumette, Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, Lumiere, maybe even Madame Garderobe, and maybe special guest appearances from other Disney Princesses. 

anonymous asked:

Not to be greedy, but do you have a snippet of PMIAMD you could share?? I'm loving it so much <3

Hiii love! My weekend went differently from how I expected, a lot of adult problems that have practically thrown themselves at me. Not fun! Anyway, I didn’t get written as much as I wanted to, but I may be able to catch up and send it out by Wednesday! Anyway, I’ve got a snippet, yes! It’s not beta’ed, so you get to keep whatver typos and mistakes you find! :) 


“What about you?”

Louis tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Will the boy you bring home be held to those standards too?” Harry asked, keeping his eyes on Louis’ face.

“Well.” Louis looked to the side, laughing awkwardly. “I never brought anyone back home.”

Harry blinked at him. He hadn’t expected that answer. “So the first dude you ever brought back home was a fake boyfriend?”

“Dude,” Louis repeated, patting Harry’s knee. “You’ve become all American, haven’t you?”

He was avoiding the topic, and Harry decided not to prod it. “Doing my best.”

“It’s a bit ridiculous, you know, with that British accent.” Louis leaned in and Harry watched him close his eyes, dark lashes meeting golden skin.

“Actually,” Harry said, drawing his finger up from Louis’ chest to his neck. “I’ve been told I sound a little American by now.”

Shaking his head, Louis closed the gap. “I can’t believe that makes you proud.”

Their lips had just met, when someone clearing their throat loudly behind them made Harry draw back from Louis. Louis withdrew his hand from Harry’s leg, and he brought some space between them. Turning his head to look over the backrest of the sofa, Harry saw Niall stand by the door.

“Now, that looks a lot different from how you two treated each other last time I’ve seen you.” Niall smirked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“That was ages ago,” Harry said.

“A few months max.” Niall walked over, resting his hip against the backrest of the sofa.

“Louis, I need you in make-up,” Barbara said from the door. She glanced at Niall briefly before she focused back on Louis. “We gotta do something about your hair.”

“Coming.” Louis was out of his seat in a second, rushing over to her. Harry couldn’t really blame him for fleeing the scene.

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Leading Suspects - Chapter 18

We now return you to your regularly scheduled murder investigation. With a side or two of smut. ;-)


“Mmph, Peeta?” I murmur, still half asleep as I shove hair out of my face and try to make sense of why I’m aroused, already uncomfortably slick between my legs. His lips caress over my spine, broad palms grazing down my sides. Ah. That’s why. I shiver and grip the pillow beneath my cheek, smiling and content to let him take the lead again. “From now on, it’s illegal for you to wake me any way other than this. Unless you have coffee.”

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