i need a laugh right now

mossyseas  asked:

i love how koshiro looks so done with zoro's shit whenever oda shows us the crew's hometowns lol

everyone’s hometowns are throwing absolute ragers and then koshiro just prays to god every night to give him the strength to deal with zoro’s destructive ass every time the papers come around. the poor man is aging too quickly due to the secondhand stress he’s getting from just thinking about zoro. all these kids swarm him all the time asking about zoro and he just pities them all because they don’t know what it’s really like. his internal monologue starts with, “you fools. the green plague will hit you as hard as it has hit me.”

koshiro is probably just done bc zoro got lost on his way to practice and ended up becoming the demon of the east blue on accident

“ENTIRE ISLAND FUCKING OBLITERATED” 
*zoro’s face is pictured underneath the headline*
*koshiro looks into the camera like he’s on the office*

Soooooo i called him last night (I was (a bit) dunk)
  • Me: "Heyyyy honeymoon, what u up to?"
  • Cole: "where are you? Are you drunk? How much did you drink? Should I come and get you?"
  • Me: "chillax man, i'm fine. How was my essay? Did you enjoy it?"
  • Cole: "Are you sure you're okay? It was great."
  • Me: "u know I like u right?"
  • Cole: "well yeah, i'm very likable."
  • Me: "no, I really, really like you"
  • Cole: "I really, really like you, too."
  • Me: "should we get married now? Did you just propose? Honey i'm not finished with school yet I need to live my life"
  • Cole: "*laughs* no, I didn't propose. I wouldn't do that over the phone."
  • Me: "well then we should meet shouldn't we?"
  • Cole: "not if you're not telling me where you are."
  • Me: "oh my oh my, mister ******, are you flirting with me?"
  • Cole: "I would never! *laughs*"
  • Me: "I should probably go, i'm sorry I called you, this is super embarrassing"
  • Cole: "oh no, it's fine. It's my fault, really. I gave you my number after all. *chuckles*"
  • Me: "i'm sorry, i'm hanging up now*
  • Cole: "it was great talking to you. Don't drink too much and study for your finals!"
  • Me: "teachers.."
  • Cole: "irresponsible students.."
  • Me: "men in their 40ies.."
  • Cole: "wowowowowow, now we're getting offensive! *laughs*"
  • Me: "didn't say that was a bad thing"
  • *hangs up*

anonymous asked:

Don't you think it's lovely how the changes to Escalus' and Ros' relationship will add that Extra(TM) layer to epilogue!Benny's Anguished Pining(TM)? My, how he's going to beat himself up over falling in love, despite knowing from the very beginning what the deal was. How stupid it was to have all the "evidence" staring him right in the face and believe, against all odds, that he could have that one perfect thing in his life, just for him. I think it's just delicious.

lmao i’m pretty sure @allisonswan said this exact same thing in my DMs sometime last week 

one of my favorite things from the book is Ben’s “Mercutio would be laughing his ass off at me right now for doing this shit for ~love ugh” and listen, i need that so much. I need Ben to be disgusted at himself for fALLING FOR THIS WOMAN but god she’s so lovely and he’s gonna be an idiot for anyway like once he realizes he doesn’t try to deny it he’s more just mad at himself for it like the Broodster he is

and yeah it’s also going to make Rosaline’s decisions even more powerful… which makes their partnership and relationship more powerful… which I’m always for.

Omggg I feel so dumb right now LMAO

I just noticed that the only reason Sana took Noora to that coffee place was bc she read on that one website that in order to get over a guy you need to remember there’s other fish in the sea, and Sana was trying to forget about Yousef,,, IM SUCH AN IDIOT LMOAJQB IM LAUGHING no wonder Noora was like “we’re here for my sake? To look at Muslim boys and stuff” I LOVE BEING DUMB IHMSSSSSS

Did you ever have a genuine psychic/medium experience?

Although many readings can be attributed to cold readings or sheer coincidence sometimes it’s uncanny how accurate psychics/mediums can be. Here’s a collection of supposedly genuine experiences from threads. If you have an experience feel free to tag me @sixpenceee!

by reddit user Jinuxxx

I never believe in palm /card readings. I don’t actually believe in it nowadays. BUT when I was in 9th grade, my friend took me with her to a fortune teller so she can have her future read. Surprisingly she mentioned about her love dilemma, a blonde guy and dark haired guy. She was completely convinced about her reading powers while I was meh… We’re teenagers, it’s natural we’ll find ourselves in situations like this. And then she predicted the scores she’ll get at the exams when you finish high school (in our country there are some mandatory subjects for the exams, thus multiple numbers) she guessed that right. If I think really hard about probabilities and stuff I can find a logic explanation to that as well. 

by reddit user GoobyBear22

About 5 years ago I saw a psychic that a family friend had told me was the real deal. I went in skeptical and came out a believer.

She used tarot cards and knew things that could have been lucky guesses, like that I had just bought a house and was renovating it, but she also knew specific things that no one else could have known.

The most amazing part of the whole thing was that she knew that I had some complications with my hormones and had a surgery in the past that would make getting pregnant very difficult, but she told me Despite all this, I would have a baby later in life. Toward the end of the reading she hands me the tarot cards and tells me to shuffle them. Then tells me to ask three questions in my mind one at a time. I decided to really test her authenticity so the first question I decided to ask was am I going to have children, and halfway through laying the five cards down, she stops and looks at me and scolds me saying “I already told you that you were going to have one child!” hah this is when I knew.

by reddit user wobblerss

This was before I was born. My mom had a neighbor who was a grandpa who could see the future. He told my mom that my sister would be really sick when she became a preteen and not to worry because she’d be okay. When my sister was a preteen she was diagnosed with cancer and after a year and a half she was perfectly fine. My mom was pregnant with me when she met him again and he told her that I would be a c-section baby. My mom already knew this and said she had scheduled the c-section already since I was breach but he was adamant that she would have me on a certain day and that the c-section wouldn’t go on the planned day. I was born on the exact day he predicted.

Nothing too crazy but the fact that he knew that my sister would be sick and would be okay is crazy to me. He also didn’t want any money and approached my mom and asked if he could do a reading for her.

Keep reading

  • what she says: I'm okay
  • what she means: Can I say my shit? Can I say my shit? I've got lots of shit to say. I've got lots of shit to say. I can't fit my hand inside a Pringle can, I have a huge amount of trouble fitting my hand inside of a Pringle can. I can get my hand like four inches into the can but then I have to tilt the can into my mouth but then a bunch of crumbs have accumulated at the bottom of the can so they all go spilling onto my face. What I'm trying to say is the diameter of Pringle cans is way too small. I'll say it again. The diameter of Pringle cans is way too small. Two radiuses of a Pringle can is way too small. If you feel me, put your hands up, Come on! If you feel me, put your hands up! Look at all these hands that are way too big to fit inside of a Pringle can! Your hands are too big to fit inside a Pringle can, your hands are too big to fit inside a Pringle can. You think you can, I know you can't, you think you can. Pringles! Listen to the people, I am sure ninety percent of the complaint letters you get are about the width of your cans?! Just... make them wider?! I've overdone the Pringles thing, sorry. I want to have a daughter. I want to have a daughter so I can finally have someone around the house who can fit their hands in the Pringle can. Yes, I'm still on the Pringle cans thing! Yeah! I'll move on, alright? But that is priority número uno. I don't go to the gym because I'm self-conscious about my body but I'm self-conscious about my body cause I don't go to the gym. Irony can be so painful. That's a Catch-22. Let's do this! I went to Chipotle, I went to Chipotle, got myself a chicken burrito. I went down the line and I got all these ingredients and at the end of the line the guy tried to wrap the burrito but half of the shit inside the burrito spilled out. He still wrapped it. I was like, dude you should have warned me! You're a burrito expert, you should have told me halfway through: "Hey, man. You might be reaching maximum burrito capacity here" Do you fucking think I want a messy burrito? No one wants a messy burrito! The whole appeal of the burrito is that all of the ingredients are contained within the confines of the tortilla. I wouldn't have gotten half of the shit if I knew it wasn't gonna fit in the burrito! Alright? Look I wouldn't have got the lettuce if I knew it wouldn't fit! I wouldn't have got the cheese if I knew it wouldn't fit! I wouldn't have got the peppers if I knew it wouldn't fit! I wouldn't have got half of it! Like, I'm okay with small mistakes, if you've got no more chicken I'll take pork. But I'll blow my dad before I eat a burrito with a fork. I wouldn't have got the lettuce if I knew it wouldn't fit, I wouldn't have got the cheese if I knew it wouldn't fit, I wouldn't have got the peppers if I knew they wouldn't fit. Man, I wouldn't have got half of it, like half of it, like, half of it, like, half of it, like half of it right now,I think it's time I think it's time, I think that we break this down. I can sit here and pretend like my biggest problems are pringle cans, and burritos. The truth is, my biggest problem's you. I want to please you but I want to stay true to myself. I want to give you the night out that you deserve but I want to say what I think and not care what you think about it. Part of me loves you, part of me hates you, part of me needs you, part of me fears you. And I don't think that I can handle this right now, handle this right now. I don't think that I can handle this right now. I don't think that I can handle this right now, I don't think that I can handle this right now, I don't think that I can handle this right now. Look at them, they're just staring at me like, "come and watch the skinny kid with a steadily declining mental health and laugh as he attempts to give you what he cannot give himself." I don't think that I can handle this right now, I don't think that I can handle this right now. They don't even know the half of this right now, they don't even know the half of it. But I know I'm not a doctor, I'm a pussy, I put on a silly show so I should probably just shut up and do my job so here I go. I wouldn't have got the lettuce if I knew it wouldn't fit, I wouldn't have got the cheese if I knew it wouldn't fit, I wouldn't have got the peppers if I knew they wouldn't fit, I wouldn't have got half. You can tell them anything if you just make it funny, make it rhyme and if they still don't understand you then you run it one more time. I don't think that I can handle this right now (Haa!) I don't think that I can handle this right now (Hoo!) If you think that I can handle this right now (Haa!) Right now (Haa!) Now, handle this right, handle this right, handle this right now.Thank you, good night! I hope you're happy.
the story of the underwear cockles op

y’all wanna hear the story of how @amazinmango and i got this photo op at phxcon this weekend?

PART ONE: BEFORE THE OP

so here’s the thing: n o n e of this was planned. it was amazing, hilarious, ridiculous kismet. 

mango’s had his birthday recently, and so i brought his birthday present with me to phxcon. part of the present was a pair of jensen’s underbears (i think the text i sent mango right after jib was, “we’re close enough that it’s not weird if i buy u underwear right????”) bc i thought that was hilarious from jib and mango is a huge jensen fan and dean!boy. so the original joke was just that mango could have the bear underwear. i also got him a second pair in orange, bc orange is his fav colour. this was as far as i thought this would go. 

so i get into phoenix thursday night and give mango his present. we didn’t know there were cockles photo ops until friday afternoon when we saw hard tickets for sale. i distinctly remember being bummed that my hometown con had cockles photo ops for sale online but phxcon, the one i was actually going to, did not. but obviously once i saw they were available, like. THERE WAS ONLY ONE CHOICE. so after deciding it was completely financially irresponsible when we have no money, i bought the op. 

i can’t remember when it occurred to us that we had both the underbears and a pair of lucky orange underwear for misha in our hotel room. we wanted to do something fun and funny for the op, and cracked ourselves up at the idea. but we were also aware that it could be, you know, kind of sort of maybe intensely uncomfortable to be like (a) i know what underwear u were wearing and (b) here i brought pairs of them for you to further laugh over. i have a T E R R I B L E akdslkjkas embarrassment squick, so we didn’t want to do anything that made us uncomfortable, and we definitely didn’t want to do anything that would make misha or jensen uncomfortable. we wanted them to have fun with us and play around with us. 

we ran our idea passed our roomie, who has some good con experience, to see if she thought it would fly or not. we agreed on judging our plan based on their mood on the day and asking them if they felt comfortable enough to do it was the best course of action, with a back-up plan ready to go immediately just in case, so j+m knew we were serious that they could totally pass on it if it was weird. CONSENT AND SAFE SPACE. we were hella concerned about this. 

Keep reading

Our Little Secret-Part One

Summary: After a hunt and quite a few drinks the boys learn that you aren’t as ‘experienced’ in one department as they thought you were. Dean thinks he can rectify that

Series Masterlist

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Square Filled/Kink: Oral Fixation for @spnkinkbingo

Word Count: 4700

Warnings: Smut, oral (male and female receiving), insecure reader, language

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. This is the first part of what I hope is a lengthy and smutty series. Any feedback is always appreciated. This is also for @emilywritesaboutdean and @wheresthekillswitch ‘s Do It Like TFW Challenge (The gif is near the bottom)

A thank you to my beta @ayeronda for betaing at an ungodly hour and being so wonderful.


It’s been a long ass day and an even longer hunt. You were more than happy to be sitting on Dean’s bed in the boys’ motel room, sipping on your second, or maybe it is the third beer. And that was just here, it wasn’t counting the four or five shots you had had down at the bar. So now you were here and Sam was riding Dean hard about his strikeout at the bar.

“Dude, you were never going home with her.”

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

You can’t help but chuckle, “What? Two whole minutes?”

Keep reading

2

Stay  ~Jeff Atkins x Reader~

There’s something beautiful about the summer- they way it creates a new version of reality where music sounds better and happiness feels sweeter. Parties can give the same kind of feeling where nothing feels real, but all of it feels great. Well, until the next morning.

This makes an end of the summer party the pinnacle of a new reality. Inhibitions run low and everything else is on overdrive. In a week they will all be students again, studying to ensure the best future possible. But for tonight they are 60% alcohol and 40% bad decisions.

“Y/N!” Jess squeals with excitement, running towards the girl who just entered the room. She had been away visiting family abroad for the majority of the summer, and while the beaches had given a whole new meaning to the word ‘paradise’, this was where she was truly happiest.

“Jess!” she returns the enthusiasm, hugging her best friend tightly. The warm breezes that blew in through her window every morning this past summer brought her comfort, but this was home.

“I want in,” Justin grins, approaching the two and enveloping them between his arms.

“God I’ve missed you guys,” she sighs contentedly.

“You have so much third wheeling to catch up on,” Jess teases light heartedly.

Her face twists up unpleasantly at the thought. She loves both Jess and Justin dearly, but she does not love the thought of third wheeling. “With all due respect, I think I’ll pass.”

“Is that Y/N Y/L/N?!” a fourth voice enters the picture, causing the trio to part and turn towards the person walking towards them.

Jeff Atkins. Baseball star and literal ray of sunshine with the face of an angel and the body of a Greek God.

“Hey, Jeff,” she laughs, walking away from Jess and Justin to meet him halfway.

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” Jeff grins warmly, brushing her arm with his hand. It’s a sweet gesture. He’s always been so sweet.

“It’s only been like two months,” she mirrors his grin. It’s impossible not to smile back at someone who radiates warmth the way he does.

“Feels like forever though. Especially since I was used to seeing you everyday at school. You look nice by the way,” he bumps her shoulder.

“I missed you, too,” she chuckles, “I look like I always do.”

“Exactly.”

She bites her lips together before looking down shyly and letting them fall apart into a smile. Jeff Atkins was so genuinely good in a way that was uniquely him.

“Jeff!” Troy yells from the outside patio, “Beer pong, now, c’mon man!”

“Coming!” Jeff yells back to Troy, but turns back to her before walking away. “Come watch us play? You can practice cheering me on for baseball season,” his mouth twists into a smirk.

“Who says I’m gonna come to your baseball games?” She challenges playfully, using quick wit to redeem herself from the shy smile.

“Don’t break my heart, Y/N,” he pouts childishly, walking backward to join the boys for a game of beer pong but not breaking eye contact with her. He finally turns away from her to exit the house and join those outside, but not before mouthing a “pleaasssseeee” and sticking out his bottom lip.

“I’ll be there in a second!” she yells so he can hear her over the music.

His pout transforms into a grin before he disappears through the threshold, indicating that he heard her.

“So how about a double date instead of third wheeling?” Justin and Jess approach her with Justin wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh shut up,” her face heats up at the thought, “He’s a nice guy. He’s friendly with everyone.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t flirt with everyone,” Jess interjects, crossing her arms over her chest vindictively.

“He didn’t ask me to cheer for him,” Justin fakes offense, “Honestly I’m a little hurt.”

“Fuck off, Justin,” she laughs loudly, putting her hands over her face.

“You better get out there,” Justin presses, gesturing to the sliding door, “After all, it’s mine and Jess’s two month anniversary so an intense make-out session could happen at anytime.”

“Bye!” she turns on her heels quickly, running away from her friends before they could make things awkward, or more awkward.

***
Five cups of jungle juice and two games of beer pong later she’s sitting on a folding lawn chair watching Jeff singlehandedly win a third game of beer pong since Troy had wandered off and was bothering Hannah and Clay.

After sinking another shot, Jeff notices where Troy had gone. A brief look of panic flashes across his face before he mutters a quick, “be right back!”, making a beeline for Troy. Jeff was just about as invested in Clay and Hannah as Clay was in Hannah. She wondered just how much better off the world would be if everyone had the same heart as Jeff.

“Did you save the day?” she asks upon Jeff’s return. She’s quite drunk and seeing two of everything, including two Jeffs. How wonderful would that be? A world with two Jeff Atkins. Incredible.

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckles modestly, “It’s up to Clay.”

“Meanwhile that beer run is up to you, buddy” Troy points out, his words slurring together.

“Later man,” Jeff replies, picking up a ping pong ball.

“Because you definitely need more alcohol,” she rolls her eyes at Troy, a sick feeling blossoming in her stomach.

“Don’t be a buzzkill, Y/N,” Troy retorts.

“Hey, relax,” Jeff snaps at Troy, “you’ll get your beer.”

The sick feeling in her stomach intensifies tenfold. She doesn’t want him to go, but she can’t beg him to stay. He’s not drunk, he would never jeopardize his life or anyone else’s so recklessly. But something about it still doesn’t feel right. He shouldn’t go.

She stands up, wobbling slightly. She grabs the back of her lawn chair to steady herself before heading back for the house. The twisting in her stomach is ominous in a way that refuses to be ignored.

“Where’re you going?” Jeff asks, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I need another drink,” she mumbles, brushing past him.

***
Three shots and a game of suck and blow later she’s feeling light and airy. All the anxiety from earlier has been replaced with a tingling feeling that reaches her feet. She’s quite hammered, and all the slip ups in suck and blow have her laughing and her sides aching. She’s starting to get lightheaded.

“I’m gonna go get some air,” she gasps in-between fits of laughter.

“Can you even walk?” Jess giggles.

“I’ll crawl if I have to,” she shrugs, stumbling her way out the door.

***
There’s nothing like the refreshing sensation of cool air hitting your skin after being cooped up in a house full of drunks, especially when you’re drunk yourself. The feeling of a breeze on her face is intoxicating in its own right, so she continues to walk around the outside of the house until she reaches the front.

There’s someone else at the front of the house, too. She can only see their back as they walk towards the row of cars, but she knows who it is. Suddenly she remembers why she felt the need to down three shots of vodka.

“Atkins,” she calls out, stumbling a bit as she walks forward.

He turns around at the sound of his name, smiling when he sees who it is. “Hey, you. Looks like you got that drink you wanted,” he laughs lightheartedly at her shaky balance.

“You making that beer run?” she asks, wringing her hands together nervously.

“Yeah. I’m not even a little buzzed, don’t worry,” he says soothingly.

“Stay,” she says softly.

“Huh?” he tilts his head to the side.

She continues to walk forward until she’s standing right in front of him, her weight falling to the side enough to make her falter. He reaches out to steady her, keeping a firm grasp on her side. She places her hands on his chest to steady herself before locking her eyes on his.

“Stay,” she repeats.

“Y/N, it’s okay I’m completely fine I promise. I only had two beers like two hours ago,” he assures, his voice gentle.

“I know, but it’s not like anybody needs anymore alcohol. I’m one of the more sober ones right now and that says a lot. Honestly I don’t even know how I made it out here on my own,” she sighs, “Just stay, please. ”

He looks at her softly, his eyes studying the worry etched onto her face. She feels so delicate in his grasp, like a porcelain doll that could shatter with too much pressure. He has always been enamored with her.

“Okay,” he moves his hands to hold her face, “I’ll stay.”

She lets out a heavy breath, letting her forehead rest against his chest and wrapping her arms around him. Maybe she was worrying over nothing, maybe she wasn’t, but she’s unexplainably relieved at those words.

“You gotta promise to watch me play baseball though,” he teases.

“I’ll be there every game with a sign that has your name on it,” she laughs, tilting her chin up to look at him.

“You gotta stop looking at me like that,” he shakes his head,“I might just fall in love with you.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.”

“Don’t leave for two months at a time,” he counters, grinning boyishly.

“I’d stay right here forever if I could,” she tightens her arms around him.

“I’d kiss you if you weren’t like 10 drinks deep right now,” he laughs, rubbing her back gingerly.

“Let’s go inside. I need to get sober. Right now. Immediately,” she pulls away, grabbing his hand to tow him behind her. Their laughter echoes down the empty street as they run around to the back of the house.

There’s something beautiful about the end of summer- the way things begin to feel more permanent. A simple request can change so much. All he had to do was stay. And he did.


Masterlist

Gifs (X) (X)

Strip Tutoring // Jeff Atkins // requested

Request : please do a jeff atkins imagine but please dont let him die there iM BEGGIN U

This imagine doesn’t mention his death or the party or anything! Just a regular ‘dating Jeff Atkins’ imagine. Lol

Requests are closed. xx

Warnings : not really smut but… stripping ?…. cheeky!Jeff

Pairings : Jeff x Fem.Reader

Originally posted by jeffreysatkins

Originally posted by ardevaas88


Walking into the library, my eyes scanned over everyone’s faces until I saw my boyfriend sitting with Clay. He looked irritated and pinched the bridge of his nose. Taking a seat at the table, Jeff’s eyes lit up.

“Hey babe.” He smiled. 

I grinned, “How’s he doing, Clay?”

“Depends. Did Abraham Jefferson write the Declaration of Independence?” Clay responded smartly. 

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food truck au 1/??

(inspired by my earlier post)

Anyone who knew Jack Zimmermann would laugh at the idea of him even being able to remember the login for his Twitter account.

No one, not even his parents, would ever suspect that he checked his feed every single morning.

Jack didn’t care much for social media; he was too private a person to ever want the world to know where he was or what he was eating at any given moment. In fact, he only followed three accounts: his mother’s, the official Falconers’, and that of Li’l Dicky’s Southern Comforts. The latter was the only one he actually cared about.

See, Jack Zimmermann had a deep, dark secret – he was in love with the mini apple pies that were sold daily at Li’l Dicky’s. It was the only dessert he ever indulged in on a regular basis, and said indulgences were a secret he would take to his grave.

Every morning, Li’l Dicky’s posted their location for the day. Jack knew the general schedule by heart at this point, but some days the truck switched things up, due to weather or construction or event catering, and Twitter was the only way for Jack to know if he would be able to get his apple pie fix.

It didn’t hurt that Eric Bittle, the owner of Li’l Dicky’s, smiled at Jack like the sun shined out of his ass every time he came by. But really, it was the pies Jack couldn’t enough of. Mostly. Probably.

Keep reading

You’re My World.

Originally posted by v-writings

Peter Parker x Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: Peter gets hurt during a mission and the reader is there to help comfort him.

Word Count: 2,265 (I got carried away)

Warnings: Language, fight, blood, injuries, knives, hurting!Peter, comforting!Reader, fluffy fluff, sad stuff, so much cheesiness. (Let me know if I missed any). 

A/N: For the anon that requested this, here you are m'dear! I hope you like it! I’m shit at bad ass fight scenes (really everything), but I tried. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy reading!


Walking into the conference room to discuss the mission a few hours ahead, the team is already seated.

Noticing a chair between Wanda and Peter, you sneakily take a seat.

“Nice of you to join us, Y/N” Tony points out, rolling his eyes.

“You bet, Stark.” You replied, saluting and smirking.

As he continued talking about the mission ahead, you drifted away in your thoughts.

This better be a quick mission…

HGTV ’s got new episodes of house hunters calling my name.

Keep reading

You’re His Ex Girlfriend and You See His New Girlfriend Wearing Your T-Shirt: Part 2

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Growing up, people told Y/n that you could die from a broken heart—that the stress on your heart strings could weaken, and all that’s left is the pain in your chest.

Y/n thought her heart would fail her, rupture all that’s left of her and leave her body to decompose. She believed that, if her broken heart wasn’t going to kill her, loneliness and lack of sleep would push her towards her end.

Moving on—something that seemed so simple yet so impossible for Y/n to do.

When the hurt in her chest and the hallucinations from exhaustion started to become too much for her to handle, she was willing to do anything to help herself. She started taking up yoga sessions, started writing music, even started cooking in an attempt to bring herself back from whatever hell she was in.

She even considered moving on; meeting a man at a bar and getting to know more about him rather than his drink order. But something seemed so wrong about that—something was unsettled inside of her at the thought of being with someone who wasn’t Harry.

The image of Jessica in Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt was enough to haunt her nearly every hour of the day. She started going mental, constantly wondering what they were doing together in the moments she was most vulnerable. She wondered about their love life, their future, their interests. She thought about everything.

It wasn’t until Gabby was determined to mend the broken girl raiding her house, finding any possible excuse to give her a sense of life again, that Y/n found the slightest bit of hope.

Y/n was losing it, entirely, and Gabby refused to continue being a bystander.

Gabby had set Y/n up on a blind date only a couple weeks back, practically begging her to seize every opportunity she possibly can to get over Harry. It was all Gabby could do to help her, considering nothing quite helped Y/n’s well-being since the breakup.


“Oh, he’s just so perfect!” Gabby squealed, clapping her hands before gripping tightly around Y/n’s wrists in excitement. “He’s gorgeous! Amazing blue eyes—breathtaking, really! And he’s so sweet, Y/n! I haven’t met a single person who’s disliked him and he’s such an amazing photographer! And his teeth! His teeth are marvelous! Do you know how hard it is nowadays to find a man with nice teeth? I mean—“

By then, Y/n had dozed off, and it wasn’t for any personal reason against Gabby; she’s appreciated every bit of hard work to help her through the heartbreak Y/n’s been dealing with nearly half of a year now. It’s just that she wasn’t ready to move on, not that she didn’t want to.

It had been nearly five months, which may seem like such an abundance of time to rid feelings for somebody, but did time really help moving on from someone she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with? It seemed nearly impossible. She could barely see herself looking at other men in a romantic sense, how could she see herself going on a date with somebody? Especially when she was still in love with somebody else?

She was biting the bullet with letting time heal her, but she felt that was the only way. Nothing more could help her. If anything, she believed dating would make it worse, if she were being honest.

But the look of excitement Gabby had at the mere thought of Y/n being happy again was something Y/n found nearly impossible to resist. Besides, she had definitely been overstaying her welcome at Gabby’s house no matter how much Gabby’s tried to deny it and has put so much stress onto her that maybe, just maybe, doing this one favor for all that she’s done for her.

“So, what do you say?”

Y/n blinked harshly when Gabby’s voice drowned out all the scrambled thoughts in her head, shaking her head slightly to regain her understanding of reality.

“What?”

“Monmouth Coffee Shop at noon tomorrow. Dan really wants to meet you, Y/n! Please!”

Y/n’s eyes widened, snapping her head up to meet Gabby’s hopeful eyes.

“The Monmouth?! Are you crazy?! That’s Harry’s favorite coffee shop, you know that! Dan and Harry probably know each other, that’s how much he goes there!”

Gabby’s eyes narrowed as her lips pursed, gaze directing toward the ceiling in thought.

“Harry? Harry who? I don’t remember who that is, never heard that name in my life.”

Her tone reeked with sarcasm, which made Y/n’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. As much as she wished Gabby’s negative remarks about Harry were comedic, there was always something about them that infuriated her. She always supposed it was the instinctual aspect of loving someone so much.

Gabby sighed as she reached her hand up to rub Y/n’s shoulder gently.

“Look,” she began, “you’re my best friend and I hate seeing you like this. You’re not the same Y/n I always knew, and I think you see yourself that way, too. And in all honesty, I don’t give a fuck about Harry anymore. As sadistic and twisted as it sounds, I don’t care about his emotions, or how he feels. He did this to you. He killed a part of you and I feel it’s my obligation to help you through this. So, please, go out with Dan tomorrow. He works at Monmouth, he’ll meet you before his shift starts at 1:30.”

Gabby’s arm slid off of Y/n’s shoulder at the shadow of uncertainty behind her eyes. Even though Gabby understood all the pain and hesitation, she didn’t want to see Y/n suffer another day. She just couldn’t.

“Please,” she whimpered, “Dan has been the only sense of hope I’ve gotten to make you happy again. Just do this one thing, please? And if it doesn’t work, then you can blame me. I’m just trying here.”

Y/n coughed slightly, her inability to say no wearing off of her at Gabby’s desperate pleads. It was an opportunity to turn things back around in her life, and if it didn’t go as planned, she really didn’t have anything more to lose.

She nods her head softly.

“Yeah—yeah, okay. I’ll meet him.”

Maybe this would be good for her.


Dan is lovely, always caring for Y/n and making sure she feels like loyalty whenever she’s around. He puts her first, in everything, and made a rule that the date can’t end until I hear you laugh at least six times.

It’s cute, really, how effortless he is at giving someone so much attention. Y/n likes it—loves it, even, but it still never feels right to her. She sees something with him, but nothing long term, not in the way she sees Harry.

But he’s good for her now, when she’s at her worst and needs someone to be there for her. He’s able to provide her with the company she desperately needs in order to cure the possible fatalities that came with her broken heart.

“Thank you for the coffee, it was great.” Y/n smiles softly, her cheeks blushing slightly as she traces the rim of her coffee cup.

It’s nearly their tenth date, and they still meet at the Monmouth at noon before his shift. It’s become a routine for them, meeting together at noon before Dan drops her off at the parking station. It became something they both looked forward to throughout their week, and soon became more of a tradition between them.

Dan grins, almost instinctively wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulders so that her head makes rest on his chest. He sighs, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head before resting his chin where his lips once were.

“Of course. I’ll be getting out at around 6 o‘clock so maybe I can stop by for a few? Maybe watch a movie?”

He knows the answer before she says it—his constant attempts to get closer to her always seeming to fail. There’s always a hesitation, or always an excuse to prevent them from being alone together.

He’s well aware that there are parts of her that need to be fixed, still being completely destructed by her ex-lover. He’s tried tirelessly to get her to open up and to trust him, but there’s a thick barrier still in their way of each other. It disheartens him, to know she refuses to let him in.

She sighs, guilt evident in her breath as she softly pushes away from him.

She does that often, he’s noticed it.

She feels horrible for doing so every time. Everything between them has remained stagnant, nothing being built so that nothing could be knocked down. It’s not that Y/n doesn’t trust him, it’s that Y/n doesn’t trust herself. She’s still in love with someone else, and she can’t hurt Dan—not in that way.

“I think I’m just going to—“

“Yeah, I know.” Dan nods, arms moving to cross at his chest, “I get it. Just like every other time.”

Y/n reaches her shaking fingers to brush her hair behind her ear, guilt flashing in her eyes as she refuses to meet his gaze. She’s familiar with the look he has on his face well enough to know he’s upset again, being constantly shut down by her.

“I’m so sorry, Dan.” She whispers, “But I’m trying. I want to keep trying with you. If you let me.”

He looks unconvinced, as he’s been hearing this for a while now. But something inside of him can’t quit her, no matter how much his intuition tells him she’s a dead end. Maybe he feels sorry for her on a level he’s never felt sorrow for somebody else. No matter how much she hides it, she really does need him. Not in a romantic level, but she does need him to show her that he cares for her and that he’ll always be there. She needs that sense of security, and he’s the only one that can provide it for her.

“Yeah,” he nods, “we can keep trying. It’s okay, I’m here for you.“


Harry had been living in his studio for the past couple of weeks. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it was much better than sleeping on his and Y/n’s bed—alone.

That’s all he’s felt since their break up—lonely. It’s quite strange, considering Harry had millions of supporters, an entire band throughout his solo career, and producers around him nearly every hour of the day. He used to complain that he never had alone time anymore, that between all the constant traveling and being at the peak of his career, it was hard to find time for himself.

But now, in the midst of everything happening in his life, he wishes to feel that sort of hustle again.

Y/n was the person that kept him grounded through everything. She was the one consistency in his life, which gave him all the more reasons to love her. Whenever he was overwhelmed with the pressure put on him, or feeling homesick during his travels, she was always the one to keep him at bay and give him a sense of clarity.

Home hadn’t become a house, instead, Y/n’s heart. Wherever she was, he felt at home. Even when she was half way across the world, it was her voice that brought him back and reminded him that, no matter how much he missed the walls of familiarity, home was always a phone call away. She gave him that sense of comfort everywhere she went, it was truly amazing.

And when he broke up with Y/n, he didn’t think of how much everything around him would be affected. He thought time would do them best—would help mend the relationship that seemed to be collapsing beneath their feet. Their connections were lost, replaces by uncomfortable silences and unbarring arguments.

He didn’t think of the consequences when he did it. He didn’t think about how lost he’d become, or how he had no place to call home, or how there was no consistency in his life anymore. There were so many aspects of his life that Y/n had given him—so much of them that he didn’t realize until she moved out.

It was the exact reason he started dating Jessica. She was a great distraction, a beautiful woman to take his mind off of everything.

They weren’t much of anything. Nothing about them was exclusive besides what the media saw of them: boyfriend and girlfriend moving in together in London. It was far from the truth, really. He was with her to terminate his dry spell and rid his loneliness, and she was with him because he infatuated her.

He ended it all, though, that same morning Y/n found Jessica wearing their shirt. The entire incident gave him a realization; that nobody could fill his void like Y/n did.

The fear of losing her forever and making her believe he was in love with somebody else was enough to break him out of his selfish ways. She had been waiting for him for months, and when he returned, he wasn’t the same man he was.

Not only did Harry know that Y/n lost all her faith in him—he lost all faith in himself, as well.


“I’m so screwed, Nick. I fucked up everything. Everything.”

Harry was laying with his back flat against the studio couch, hands rubbing down his face as he tried to steady his harsh breathing.

It was just after he had run into Y/n at the grocery store, where she had seen Jessica wearing Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt. Although he was practically mute during the encounter, everything hit him at once after Y/n and Gabby walked out.

He called Nick in a hurry, incoherent and completely disoriented from the tears he’d broken down into. Everything he thought would be mended completely fell down on them—all because of him.

“Jessica was wearing the shirt with the—fuck, you know the shirt, and Y/n saw and she was such a mess, Nick. I didn’t even say anything to her, she was practically begging me to say something and I didn’t say a word.”

Nick sat cross-armed on one of the chairs, directly across from Harry. He wished he could have felt remorse seeing Harry in such distress, however, he never agreed with Harry’s actions and made it clear numerous times. In his eyes, this was karma’s ticking time bomb.

“You tend to be a real jackass sometimes, you know that?”

Harry lifted himself up so that he could sit properly. His body slumped against the back of the couch, head rested in his palm as he coughed uncomfortably at Nick’s choice of words.

“You let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to you and then you just move on, as if she meant nothing, and you think you just fucked it all up now? Over the goddamn t-shirt?”

Harry scowled at him.

“I haven’t moved on, and it’s more than just a t-shirt, you know that. That was ours.” Harry defended, glaring over at his direction.

“So why was Jessica wearing it after you fucked her on the bed you and Y/n shared every night for the past three years?”

Something about Nick’s words gave Harry a foul taste in his mouth. As much as he wished Nick didn’t say it in that way, that’s exactly what Harry did, and knowing he had to live with that for the rest of his life made his stomach flip inside of him.

He really did fuck it up. Nothing he did was excusable, nothing he did was forgivable. He betrayed the one woman he loved so dearly—the one woman he’d always consider his soulmate. He really, really fucked it up.

He gulped as he tried to find words to justify himself. There was really nothing he could say.

“She—she had just put it on while I was sleeping and when—when I noticed she just wouldn’t shut up about breakfast and I couldn’t just be like ‘Hey, Jess, could you take off that shirt? That belonged to me and my ex-girlfriend and I don’t appreciate it?’ How could I do that?”

He sighed, leaning his face into the palm of his hands as he looked back onto his experiences with Jessica. Was it all worth it? Was she really worth all of this?

“She means nothing to me, Nick. I lost the girl I love for somebody who doesn’t mean anything to me.” He whispered, “How do I live knowing that?”


It’s nearly two in the afternoon when Harry finally decides to leave his studio. He’s been working on some songs he found himself writing during his free time, something he found therapeutic throughout the past couple of months.

Recording and writing have become the only distractions that seem to work for Harry. Everything else became temporary. Writing out his emotions and singing the words he wishes he could say has been the only sense of closure he’s had in a while.

“Dan! Long time no see!” Harry smiles when he enters Monmouth, a familiar face being something he finds so relieving.

Dan looks up from his register, reaching over the counter to give Harry a hug as he greets him enthusiastically.

“Haven’t seen you in quite a while. On your lunch break?”

Harry nods as his eyes squint, reaching for the back of his neck as he reads over the menu.

“Yeah, kind of in a hurry today if you don’t mind. Can I just get a medium coffee with almond milk, please? And a slice of apple pie, feeling kind of brisk today.”

Dan works his fingers across the cash register, yelling out his order to the barista before making small talk about the weather. Considering Harry hasn’t been seen in Monmouth nearly as much as he used to, they both found it nice to catch up with each other for the short while they’ve been distanced.

When Dan reaches over to give Harry his spare change, an all too familiar silver ring catches his attention immediately. At first glance, he swears his heart stopped beating.

There’s no way, there’s just no way that could be the ring Harry gave to Y/n. Dan and Y/n have never met before, considering she had only visited here a handful of times during Harry’s lunch break. And even then, she would just stand patiently by the door while Harry waited to retrieve his order.

There’s just no way, but the top of the rose has a particular rust on it that resembles Harry’s perfectly—and no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen it, he’ll never forget what it looks like.

Harry’s hand grips onto Dan’s wrist instead of reaching out to grab the spare change laying upon his palm, flipping over his hand to inspect the silver ring snug almost too perfectly around his finger. He’s aggressive, movements harsh and face tight with anger, but at this point in time, the last thing Harry’s worried about is Dan’s slightly intimidated composure.

“Where did you get this?”

Unlike his demeanor, his voice is soft and breaking between each word. There’s an unrecognizable shift in his eyes when he sees the wear and tear Harry knows he caused before gifting it to Y/n. This is most definitely his, and knowing Y/n was the one who gave it to him makes him nearly throw up all the contents in his stomach.

“Girlfriend gave it to me,” Dan smiles “well, not really my girlfriend yet. But you know how they are. I told her I liked it and she insisted I have it.”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, making him nearly whimper when he opens his mouth to speak.

He’s never felt so much pain before. The breaking that was once only in his heart spread like wildfire across every bone and ligament in his body. It burns, the sudden realization that Y/n has a boyfriend, that Y/n is no longer going to be there—waiting for him—the way he always expected her to be, that Y/n has taken it upon herself to seek revenge on him so that he can feel everything she felt that one Sunday morning at the grocery store.

And it’s then he realizes that this is nothing compared to everything he’s put her through. In his favor, this is just a stupid ring her gave her for her birthday because he loved the way she twisted it around his finger. It didn’t have much value between them, just something small they shared. He couldn’t imagine the hurt he would have now, standing her, if Dan were wearing their Lover t-shirt.

“Wh—What’s her name?”

His voice is in a whisper now, only the slightest bit of hope draining from his body when he hears Dan speak again.

“Y/n. She’s a good girl, you’d like her.”

Harry almost laughs. You’d like her. He has no idea, he’s in love with her.

It’s as if every part of Harry’s body begins to shut down. Maybe it’s from the shock, or the overbearing pain he feels in his chest, but he suddenly begins to feel lightheaded. His muscles turn numb and all his orientation seems to scramble as if he’s intoxicated.

Dan’s eyes narrow when he sees all the color drain from his face, his eyes widened and soaked with tears. He watches as he nearly falls backward, only to balance himself with his foot when he takes a proper step away from the counter.

“Harry? Harry, you alright?”

Never fucking say my name again is the first proper thought that his brain can register. But his throat is tight and his tongue is numb. He attempts to take a breath of air, but he feels like his lungs are collapsing in his chest, preventing him from doing anything besides stumble uncoordinatedly out of the Monmouth doors.

He’s falling apart—that’s exactly what it feels like. He feels like every limb is falling from his body as he walks towards his car. He doesn’t know exactly how he’s moving, even if he’s stumbling on his own two feet and colliding into stranger’s bodies as he does so, he doesn’t understand how his body finds the strength to keep moving.

Y/n moved on. Y/n’s dating Dan. Y/n gave his ring to him. It’s all over, everything is over.

“No” he mumbles frantically, jealously flowing in his veins, chest heaving from the sobs that are threatening to spill out of him, “no, no no no.”

He starts to wonder where he’s missed it, and exactly how long it’s been since Y/n moved on. She was so broken at the grocery store the other week; what could have possibly altered her feelings that quickly? Did Dan really impact her that much?

But that’s his girl. Y/n is his girl, she’s the one he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Even with Jessica, even with everything that’s happened, Y/n is his soulmate, and there isn’t anything in the world that can convince him otherwise.

Nobody is going to take her from him. He refuses to believe she belongs to somebody that isn’t him; there isn’t an atom in his body that doubts their companionship.

Before he thinks twice—before he really gives himself a chance to stop himself—Harry slides his cell phone out of his back pocket once he reaches his car. He slumps against the hood as his fingers work furiously across his screen.

There has to be something, at least some sort of proof that this is really happening to him, that this isn’t in a nightmare he can easily wake himself out of. There had to have been a hint, a warning for him to have. She would have never moved on without saying something to him. They were so strong together, she would have never left without closure.

Nothing about it makes sense.

And then, he sees it.

He falls to his knees, hitting the concrete harshly below him. His body gave out from beneath him, his muscles and bones failing him.

It’s there, right in front of him, mocking him and all the shitty decisions he’s made. It’s there—on Y/n’s private Instagram page—a picture of Dan holding Y/n’s hand on top of a table in Monmouth, Harry’s ring wrapped perfectly around his pointer finger.

Steele rose has never looked so good xx.

Revenge in the Arena

Context: So our party was part of an arena tournament and our next enemies were a group of masked rogues. The day before our fight, each of us happened to meet the men/women of our dreams. All but one of us woke up, oddly enough, alone— despite the fact that we ended the night with our chosen companions. Lo and behold, during our fight, we noticed that our moves were sluggish and that the team of rogues looked strikingly familiar. I got super salty when I went base to base contact with the person whom I bedded.

Me: I wanna whisper something to the guy.

[silence ensues while I whispered something in the GM’s ear ]

DM: *bursts out laughing* OH MY GOD YOU NEED TO SAY THAT OUT LOUD!

Everyone: What? What did she say?

Me: *clears throat*

Me: [LOUDLY] I don’t know what’s more disappointing. Your swordplay right now, or last night!

DM: *while everyone is dying of laughter* You noticed something break in his eyes as you see the other rogues stare at their companion each with varying looks of amusement and pity.

He ended up dropping his sword then leaving the field right after I said that.

Sometimes you lose people, and there’s just nothing that you can do about it. Sometimes you lose something that you love. Sometimes you’re replaced by someone else and shifted to a not-so-important place in that one confidant’s heart. Sometimes relationships change and you end up feeling a little bit lonely. Sometimes you just aren’t the right fit, you just aren’t the soul that that other person needs.
—  🖤
Sober

2,500 Followers Oneshot

Summary: The reader is drunk and she tries to have sex with her best friend Jensen.

Prompt: “Why are you in my bed?!”

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1,757

Requested: @supernaturalgirl85


Jensen tiredly drudges up the stairs in his Malibu home, grumpy as all hell. He just lost $2,000 at a poker game and it’s safe to say that he’s ripshit.

Although he’s not concerned about actually losing the money, being a successful movie director has set his ass up for life.

It’s just the fact that he lost. He’s a competitive fucker, always has been and always will be. It’s in his DNA.

And to add fuel to the fire, his friends refused to give him another chance to win back his money. Claiming it’s too late and they needed to call it a night. It’s only midnight for Christ’s sake. Old bastards.

Keep reading

bilbroswaggins69  asked:

Coffee shop au or fake marriage thing??

Ahahaha ok ok I’m gonna go with coffee shop au because it is… so classic but also versatile.

Alright so I’m feeling this as a klance AND shallura thing, because brothers who suffer together, stick together.

So poor stressed out Keith is a university student, trying his best to study, meet assignment deadlines, and manage to take care of himself. He’s faring… ok. There’s a coffee shop he frequents on campus that has a lot to with how he copes. He goes in one day hoping to get his usual long black and say hi to his friend Hunk that works there, when he’s served by someone he’s never seen before.

And oh no. OH no…. he’s really hot. Killer smile. Tan skin. Broad shoulders. Narrow hips that Keith wouldn’t mind grabbing onto…. wait, what was he doing here again? He blurts out his order and robotically moves to the pick up counter. The baristas name tag says “Lance”. Lance serves him his drink with a cheery smile and Keith scuttles out the door.

Keith comes back later that day. And the day after that. 3 times on Tuesday. 4 times on Wednesday. Each time he thinks about asking Lance out. He repeats pick up lines to himself while he stands in the queue, but when he gets to the front, all he manages is a “fell from… hurts!….. I’d likealongblackpleasethankyou”

Shiro is noticing a huge difference. Keith is jittery and has huge bags under his eyes. He notices the coffee cup always in his hands and how Keith starts shivering if he goes for a few hours without caffeine. Shiro starts to reprimand him, but Keith brushes him off.

One day Shiro actually catches Keith entering the coffee shop. Shiro jogs after him, ready to drag his ass out of there. He bursts through the glass door and halts…..

Oh… oh sweet, gay, Keith. Shiro watches how Keith blushed when Lance remembers his order. Shiro knows exactly what’s been going on. He gets in line with a smirk. He conversed easily with Lance, and tells him that Keith always raves about the coffee here.
“Oh, Keith? That’s his name. I’ve just been calling him handsome.” Lance laughs and winks Keith’s way. He ACSENDS.

Lance gets called into the back room and another coworker comes up to serve. She’s tall, startling blues eyes, and an impossible amount of light hair.

Shiro and Keith both have a caffeine addiction for the next fortnight.

Keith goes in one day looking particularly bad. He hasn’t slept at all, and that’s partially due to caffeine, but also due to a killer assignment he had to complete. Shiro looks slightly better next to him. Lance rushes out from behind the counter.

“Dude you look awful.” Lance grabs Keith’s forearm. Keith talks in slurred words and seems to be only half present. He tries to order a coffee, but Lance says he won’t give him one. That he needs to go home and rest. Keith talks about quadratic equations and mumbles something about really needing coffee right now.
“I think you need to stop”
“Can’t stop. Have to ask out lance. Gotta keep…”
It takes Keith 30 seconds to realise what he’s said. He blushes up to his ears and apologises profusely. Lance takes his hand.
“I would make fun of you, except I could never get up the courage to ask you out either.”
Lance promises to go out on s date with him BUT ONLY after he’s gone home, slept and drunken a lot of water. Keith is about to head off when lance laughs:
“You know, we sell things other than coffee. Why didn’t you just order a juice all those times you came to see me?”

Shiro and Keith look at each other in shock, before hissing out “juuuiiiiiice”.

Keith shifts his coffee addiction to a mango smoothie one. Shiro drinks green tea by the litre.
After a week Allura leaves her phone number on his cup. Shiro has never been so happy and hydrated.

A Little Something About The Tangy and The Tart

I cannot believe it has been so long since I posted and I’m sorry, truly, that it’s taken me forever and a day to get my ass in gear. But due to recent events, I felt inspired to write something and I’m actually really, really happy with how this turned out!

Also, I owe a huge thank you to @permanentcross for giving me advice and reassuring me this wasn’t crap and to @canistay-haz for being her wonderful, loving self and telling me I don’t suck. You both are so, so lovely and I’m lucky that I can ask you for advice when I’m not confident in my writing.

That being said, enjoy!

Warning: NSFW

Masterlist


Normally, Saturday mornings would be reserved for sleeping in, lazy kisses, and barely audible gasps filling your ears. Today however, you and Harry had to be somewhat functioning adults. You were having one last get together with Harry’s closest friends and family before his life was sent into the spotlight for who knows how long, and he didn’t get to be as free and open with his time as he had been. 

You woke up about half an hour after Harry did, knowing you had things to do and people to see but you were having none of it. All you could think about was the slight yet very-much-still-there tingling sensation between your legs thanks to yours and Harry’s late night rendezvous. You smiled to yourself, rolling over and letting your face collide into Harry’s pillow, inhaling his lingering scent that made you want him all over again… 

You made your way downstairs to your boyfriend, legs bare and torso covered in his ridiculously baggy pink shirt that was littered with the white polka dots, your rear just barely peeking out at the bottom hem. Harry was sporting only a pair of grey joggers that hung much too low on his hips, not that you were complaining. 

“Morning, sunshine.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, peppering his back with tiny pecks.

“G’morning, poppet. Sleep okay?” Every morning after, without fail, he asks how you slept. He asks because he knows when you’re both in the heat of the moment, sex isn’t gentle. Not that it’s animalistic, but you and Harry like what you like and making sure you’re comfortable and properly taken care of after is an essential part of his aftercare routine; he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take care of you and pamper any part that might be slightly bruised or extra loved on. He does love a routine after all…

“Mhm,” you purr into his back, pecking his skin once more before he spins around in your grasp, your arms falling to your sides while he places one hand on your cheek and encloses your mouth with his.

“Good,” he smiles down at you, pecking your cheek before turning back to the countertop where you can see he’s been preparing a dessert for the get together later that night. 

“Whatcha makin’?” you ask, hopping upon the countertop, legs swinging back and forth while eyeing the bowl of plain raspberries and the graham cracker crust that was still sitting in the tart pan Harry insisted he needed.

“How does a raspberry tart for tonight sound? Bought the pan, figured there was no use in letting it sit in the cupboard.”

You couldn’t help but stifle a giggle. There was nothing comical about the dessert in and of itself, but you were feeling some type of way this morning and you couldn’t help but think of it in a provocative way.

Harry rolled his eyes, trying not to grin, “Why is that funny?”

You just giggled again and reached to kiss him on the cheek, “Maybe I wanna be your little raspberry tart. I already have the perfect shirt on.” Although you’d been sitting on the countertop for a good minute already, Harry had just noticed how his shirt had ridden up your thighs and he swallowed hard, also taking in how you had only the bottom two buttons fastened and there was little, if anything, left to the imagination. What Harry didn’t know was that you didn’t have anything covering the part of you that wanted him the most; he figured you’d just thrown on something skimpy just to torture him but no, you were completely bare, apart from the bottom of the hem under your bum, and sitting on your boyfriend’s counter. Harry didn’t have a prayer. 

You smirked at him cheekily and even though you’d had him not even eight hours before, he could tell you still had an appetite for something else, something that filled you in a different way. 

Keep reading

Being autistic isn’t always ‘cute, quirky things’, like knowing a hundred random facts about forensic pathology because it was my special interest in the sixth grade; or not knowing pop culture references because I didn’t watch that tv show, I was too busy reading books on forensic pathology.

But it’s always, constantly, that near panic fear of -

Oh no, they’re looking at me, why are they looking at me?

It’s my turn to talk!

What do I say?

Is this the right speaking volume?

Am I talking too fast?

Are these the right words?

Do I sound intelligent enough for the people I’m talking to?

Am I using too many big words?

Am I over explaining?

Wait, how’s my volume?

Oh shoot, I was distracted by my volume and I used a big word and now everyone’s laughing at me.

Why is their forehead creased? Are they mad? Is that a happy crease?

Why am I waving my hands so much?

I need to stop waving my hands.

Great, now everyone is staring at my hands.

Okay, great, I think this conversation is over!

Oh, no, wait, they’re talking again.

Look them in the eye.

No, wait, that’s too much eye contact.

Uhhhhh …

We’re done?

We’re done, whew. Another social interaction over.