i really want her dress i would wear it all the time

Public reaction to the butch-fem couple [in the 1940s] was usually hostile, and often violent. Being noticed on the streets and the harassment that followed dominates the memories of both Black and white narrators. Ronni gives a typical description:

“Oh, you were looked down upon socially. When I walked down the streert, cars used to pull over and say, ‘Hey faggot, hey lezzie.’ They called you names with such maliciousness. And they hated to see you when you were with a girl. I was the one that was mostly picked on because I was identified. I was playing the male part in this relationship and most guys hated it. Women would look at me in kind of a confused looking [way], you know, straight women would look at me in kind of wonder.”

Piri remembers how the police used to harass her for dressing like a man:

“I’ve had the police walk up to me and say, ‘Get out of the car’. I’m drivin’. They say get out of the car; and I get out. And they say, ‘What kind of shoes you got on? You got on men’s shoes?’ And I say, ‘No, I got on women’s shoes.’ I got on some basket-weave women’s shoes. And he say, ‘Well you damn lucky.’ ‘Cause everything else I had on were men’s–shirts, pants. At that time when they pick you up, if you didn’t have on two garments that belong to a woman you could go to jail…and the same thing with a man…. They call it male impersonation or female impersonation and they’d take you downtown. It would really just be an inconvenience…. It would give them the opportunity to whack the shit out of you.”

Many narrators mention the legal specification for proper dress, although some said it required three pieces of female clothing, not two. If such a law did in fact exist, it did not dramatically affect the appearance of butches, who were clever at getting around it while maintaining their masculine image. The police used such regulations to harass Black lesbians more than whites, however.

Given the severe harassment, the butch role in these communities during the 1950s became identified with defending oneself and one’s girl in the rough street bars and on the streets. Matty describes the connection between her appearance and her need to be an effective fighter. The cultivated masculine mannerisms were necessary on the street:

“When I first came out in the bars it was a horror story. You know they say that you play roles. Yeag, back then you did play roles, and I was a bit more masculine back then than I am now. That was only because you walk down the street and they knew you were gay and you’d be minding your business and there’d be two or three guys standing on a street corner, and they’d come up to you and say, ‘You want to be a man, let’s see if you can fight like a man.’ Now being a man was the last thing on my mind, but man, they’d take a poke at you and you had to learn to fight. Then…when you go out, you better wear clothes that you could really scramble in if you had to. And it got to be really bad, I actually had walked down the street with some friends not doing anything and had people spit at me, or spit at us, it was really bad.”

[…] If the world was dangerous for butches, it was equally dangerous for the fems in their company, whom the butches felt they needed to protect. Some butches state that they did most of their fighting for their fems. Sandy describes how confrontational men could be.

“Well you had to be strong–roll with the punches. If some guy whacked you off, said, ‘Hey babe,’ you know. Most of the time you got all your punches for the fem anyhow, you know. It was because they hated you….’How come this queer can have you and I can do this and that….’ You didn’t hardly have time to say anything, but all she would have to say [is] ‘No,’ when he said, ‘Let’s go, I’ll get you away from this.’ He was so rejected by this ‘no’ that he would boom, go to you. You would naturally get up and fight the guy, at least I would. And we did that all the time, those that were out in their pants and T-shirts. And we’d knock them on their ass, and if one couldn’t do it we’d all help. And that’s how we kept our women. They cared for us, but you don’t think for a minute they would have stayed with us too long or something if we stood there and just were silent…. Nine times out of ten she’d be with you to help you with your black eye and your split lip. Or you kicked his ass and she bought you dinner then. But you never failed, or you tried not to…. You were there, you were gay, you were queer and you were masculine.”

–Elizabeth Kennedy and Madeline Davis, Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold: The History of a Lesbian Community

“ My aunt also had a girlfriend. Supposedly this aunt swore to me in my cradle that I would turn out like her. Even as a child I preferred pants and a boy’s haircut. I didn’t want to wear dresses and skirts. When I first started working at AOK, I had to run errands and get files from the basement. There was always a group of women in the basement sitting, singing, and dancing with each other; I’ve always loved to dance. Sometimes they had a bottle and we drank a bit. It was there that I saw Hilde Berghausen, and I thought to myself “Gee, you could fall for that Hilde!” But I still didn’t really know why. Hilde was older than me; I was fifteen and she was twenty or twenty-one. Once she invited me home with her; I went with her—brought a pounding heart and a bouquet from our garden with me. Her parents were on vacation. We were talking and she asked me if I had a girlfriend. “Of course. Herta, my friend from school.” “There are two kinds of girlfriends.” “What do you mean, two kinds? I really love Herta!”

[…] I started going to the clubs and got to know everything around 1931, when I was fifteen. Back then, before Hitler came to power, we had a lot of clubs. For example, at the Andreas Festival Theater on Andreas Street there was a ball once a month. Through the Magic Flute, I joined a lesbian bowling club, “The Funny Nine”, which was led by Lieschen and her girlfriend Gertrud. We went bowling once a week, and once a month we rented a really big room in a dance hall on Landsberger Street. It was really nice, young and old together, fifty- to sixty-year-olds, the rest around twenty, and I was always the youngest. Later, after 1933, the proprietors–they were Nazi supporters–they stopped renting to us. Lieschen, who was in her sixties then, said “Let’s just forget this club.” And so we just forgot about it. I also went to the Monocle Bar…I still remember a lot of women who frequented that club. But they closed the Monocle Bar in 1933.

[…] When I went back home after the Labor Service, my mother found out, since all my girlfriends had written to me. I had stolen chocolate and cigarettes—we had everything in the restaurant—and I sent all my sweethearts little packages and they wrote, “My dear little Johnny-mouse, thanks so much for the wonderful package. I’m lying on my bed smoking a cigarette from you and I think of you always. Oh, I wish you were still here with me!” When my mother saw all the letters she thought “Oh my goodness, that isn’t normal; there’s something not right here.” Every day four or five letters arrived.

[…After the official ban on homosexual clubs,] outside it always said “Private Party.” You had to ring a bell and she only let in people she wanted. In 1941 there was also a very nice club on Hoch Street… but that one closed suddenly too. Even during the Nazi period there were always clubs you could go to, but they always disappeared again after a while. After 1938 there were more and more raids. If we went to one and it was closed, then we didn’t know what had happened. Before the war, Lotte Hahm had also opened a place, at Alexanderplatz in the teacher’s association building on the second floor. There used to be a dance café there. Lotte Hahm had rented it and organized ladies’ nights there. But that didn’t last very long either. […] I knew that Lotte Hahm served time in jail for seduction of a minor. That’s just nonsense; I’d never believe that about her. It was just a pretext. Then I heard that she was supposedly in a concentration camp. She really had disappeared from the face of the earth for years, so that must be true.

[…] Margot and [her girlfriend Hildegard, aka] Peter, both lived with Lissy, a woman like us who still lived at home and had already hidden one Jew, also one of us. Margot was in hiding there and Peter lived there officially. […] All of a sudden [the Gestapo] came from Gesundbrunnen Station. I said to Margot, “Don’t even bother going home; come with me.” She stayed with me at least three to six months. I had a one-room apartment. We only went outside in the dark at night; she had to get some fresh air. I had really nice neighbors who didn’t support Hitler at all. Our landlady was Jewish; the landlord wasn’t, but because they were married—a so-called privileged mixed marriage—he had been able to save her. The Jewish woman was really great; she tolerated our having girlfriends, that is, this homosexuality. She was the only one who knew I had hidden Margot. The neighbors didn’t know; I never would have said anything. Back then children even denounced their own parents.
[…] One evening we were at Vineta Square again and a woman from the house saw her. Margot hadn’t noticed that she was being watched. The Russians were already in Berlin, but there was still a lot of shooting. The next day the Gestapo came again—to me this time. If they had gotten her then, they would have shot her. Of course, they would have shot me too. But Margot wasn’t there; she was upstairs at Hanni’s—also one of us… When they came to check on me, I simply said “I don’t know any Margot” and they were finished with me. It was May, right before the war ended. ”

—Anneliese W. (1916-1995), from Claudia Schoppmann’s Days of Masquerade: Life Stories of Lesbians During the Third Reich

anonymous asked:

What's your take on the world ending for the Greek Gods? Or when they cease to be relevant to mankind, and what happens to them? Would Athena, Aphrodite and Artemis take the streets and march for Pride? Would Demeter be the manager at a zoo?

Time passes. The world changes. Temples fall. People now speak their names as if they are fairytales.

The gods are dead.

~

Apollo’s chariot lies broken and forgotten in the ruins of a city no one knows the name of anymore. He watches the sun crawl across the sky of its own volition, without him to push it forward.

“Do you miss it?” Artemis asks him, appearing by his side.  They stand at the top of a sparkling glass building, almost the same as ever. She walks among the mortals more than he does, she always has, and She’s dressed like one of them. Tight clothes and half her head shaved, sparkling gems curling up the delicate shell of her ear. She looks like one of the teenagers that fill his concert stadiums.

He thinks of the way his chariot threatened to escape his grasp every morning, the oppressive heat of the sun beating down on him, the burns and the undercurrent of fear that one day he would lose his grip on the reins and plunge the world into darkness.

Apollo leans his head on his sister’s shoulder. The sun rises slower without him, but it rises just the same. “No. Not really.”

~

Hephaestus’s workshop has evolved with the times – from a volcano base to a modern lab, but always a workshop bursting with creation. The cyclopes are still his best assistants.

Aphrodite steps over discarded parts and expertly walks around frantic cyclopes carrying bubbling concoctions. Her dark hair is swept up in a bun and she wears chunky glasses and a blood red pantsuit that almost hides the fact she’s the most beautiful woman to walk the earth. “I have a client, try not to blow up the house. Again.”

“Yes dear,” he says, but doesn’t looks away from his soldering. She hadn’t expected him too. His prosthetics are off and on the floor besides him, and he’s seated on a too-tall chair to compensate for the loss of height.

She reaches out and carefully touches the corner of his eye. Crow’s feet have started to work their way onto his face. They’re getting old. “It’s the couple that’s fighting because he wants kids and she doesn’t want to carry any kids but doesn’t want to say that. It would probably be easier if I just told them to adopt and threw them out the window.”

“Yes dear,” he repeats, sparks flying. A few land on her, but she doesn’t burn. Of course.

She moves her hand up and pushes it through his hair and resists the urge to pull him from his work and abandon her own so they can make out on his worktable. “I love you.”

Aphrodite turns to leave, but Hephaestus grabs her wrist and pulls her back. He holds up a single copper lily, the edges of the petals still glowing with heat it had taken to shape them. He carefully slides the stem into her hair so it sits at the base of her bun. He grazes her bottom lip with his thumb as he pulls his hand back to his side. “Yes dear.”

~

Demeter rages.

She makes imprudent deals to control an earth that no longer falls under her domain, and she enacts her revenge against the mortals in whatever way she can. They have forgotten her, forgotten the earth, and in their ignorance they seek to destroy it.

She shakes the bedrock and splits it open, but still they do not learn, and as the temperature of the earth rises so does her temper.

The sea is not hers to command, her power is of earth and of earth alone, and even now she gave more than could afford to lose to keep her grasp on it. But these mortals do not learn.

Demeter goes to the sea and makes an inadvisable bargain. She goes to the crumbling remains of Olympus and makes an even worse one.

Typhoons and hurricanes whip across the land. If they seek to destroy her, she will simply destroy them first.

~

Hera sits on a pure white couch in an elegant mansion, smiling for the journalist seated across from her.

“What do you think is the most influential decision you ever made?” he asks, “If you could pinpoint the success of your business to one moment, what would it be?”

She tilts her head as the light of the camera flashes. “Why, divorcing my husband, of course.”

“Would that be your advice to young women hoping to be as successful as you?” he asks, “To not get married?”

Hera thinks of thousands of years by Zeus’s side, and how little it got her. She thinks of Hestia’s men, and Artemis’s women, of Hephaestus’s love for Aphrodite, of the way Hades softened the sharpest of Persephone’s edges.

She says, “Do not get married to someone who makes you less than you are. If you are not a better person for being together than apart, then do not be together. It’s as simple as that.”

Simple, but not easy.

Leaving Zeus was the hardest thing she’s ever done.

~

Persephone isn’t forced to spend half the year on the mortal earth anymore. She goes when she pleases, which isn’t often.

Sometimes she’ll sit by Artemis’s side while she brings a new life into the world and holds the warm, wriggly child first. She visits hospitals and makes the flowers bloom out of season, and spends long hours sitting under the sun and feeling it’s warmth touch her face.

Hades left his realm rarely before, and even more rarely now. More people are being born than ever, meaning more people are dying than ever. Their realm is massive, comprising of all the dead of several millennia. Hades and Hecate spend their days as always – desperately trying to expand the realm so that they don’t all have to live on top of each other.

“Have you heard?” she asks one day, seated on his desk and leaning across it so he can’t work on the latest draft for another level of their realm. “The gods are dead.”

He gives up on attempting to tug it out from underneath her. “Are they? That’s odd, none of them are here.”

Persephone doesn’t bother to hide her smile. They haven’t figured it out yet. Maybe they never will. But when death comes for them, as death does for all, it will be to Hades and Persephone’s door they are brought. Hades himself will usher Gaia and Amphitrite into the underworld, when the time comes.

That time is not today.

“Darling, I really do need to work on this,” he ineffectually tugs on the map again.

She pushes him back into the chair, climbing on top of him and pressing their foreheads together. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” he agrees, and obligingly moves his head so Persephone can nibble at his neck. He manages a whole thirty seconds before going, “I mean, I really do, Hecate said if I didn’t have a plan by the time she leaves for the mortal realm tomorrow, I’ll either have to wait until she gets back or do it by myself, and I’d really prefer to do neither–”

Persephone kisses him to shut him up, twisting and pushing them through the realm so they land on their bed. “I’ll help you finish it later. Focus on me now.”

Hades doesn’t answer, but he does flip them so he’s above her and reaches below her skirt, so she’ll take that as agreement.

~

Hestia sits around a bonfire, watching a group of teenagers get drunk and dance around the flames. They’ll never be younger than right now, never feel as much love for each other as they do right now.

She is besides an old man who warms his hands from the fire coming from an abandoned trash can.

She lies on a bed as a girl lights two dozen candles around it as a surprise for when her lover gets home.

She watches a young man make dinner for his boyfriend for the first time and burn the chicken on both sides. They eat it together anyway.

She sits on the kitchen counter when a sister takes out a pie from the oven, made special for her little brother’s birthday.

She is there when a father ticks the thermostat up high in freezing dawn of morning so it will be warm by the time his wife and children awaken.

Most people don’t have hearths anymore. But there is warmth, and love, and for Hestia that is enough.

~

As their names fade from existence, as his name is called less and less on the battlefields of mortal men, the more Ares sleeps.

He falls asleep in too tall trees and on park benches. He sleeps in seedy motel rooms and naps in every one of Athena’s libraries. He sleeps curled up on a chair in Aphrodite’s office, and on the floors of a lot of veteran resource centers. As fast as he can tell, that’s the most they help any veteran.

Still, his favorite place to sleep is the underworld.

He goes knocking on Orpheus’s door, who is always willing to play for him. “Hades is here,” Eurydice says, “Would you like to me to go get him?”

He shakes his head, “Persephone is home. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Eurydice and Orpheus share the same look of faint disapproval, but neither of the say anything, for which he is grateful.

He lies in the soft grass of the garden Persephone made, and lets Orpheus’s playing lull him to sleep.

Later, he’s woken by strong arms picking him up and holding him against a familiar chest. He doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know who’s holding him. “I can go,” he yawns, his actions at odds with his words as he pulls himself even closer the warmth coming off the king of the underworld.

“No,” Hades says. “Stay.”

Ares lets out a content sigh as Hades presses his lips to his forehead, and he’s not great about touch, about people laying their hands on him and getting in his space. But Hades has always felt safe, felt like home.

He stays.

~

The gods are dead.

Long live the gods.


gods and monster series, part xiv

read more of the gods and monsters series here

In defense of Belle’s yellow dress

I’ve seen a lot of hullaballoo about Belle’s dress in the new BEAUTY AND THE BEAST movie—it’s not historically accurate, it’s too plain, etc. While I agree that from a purely aesthetic standpoint, it’s not my favorite gown, from a CHARACTER perspective, I think it’s perfect.

There’s a lot of talk about Belle being ‘odd,’ but the old animated movie doesn’t really explore that. The new movie shows more of Belle’s personality as someone who approaches things in her own way, who is creative, who genuinely does come off as a little different. Look at her other costumes in the movie. She almost certainly makes her own clothes- look at her quirky, practical village dress, with the tucked-up skirt so that she can be more active, or the whimsical flower embroidery on her brown traveling cloak.


We all saw Belle get frustrated by the giant frou-frou dresses that Madame de Garderobe tries to put on her (she literally escapes from under them). I would not be surprised if Belle cut and sewed up one of those old dresses to make one that fit her size, her style, and her desire for free movement. She’s lived in a village her whole life—she knows nothing about the high fashion of her time—but she knows what she likes and what she imagines. The dress is very light, flowy, and if you look closely, the layers of the skirt aren’t hemmed, they’re cut off. Her ear cuff and the simple lines of the dress don’t look like 18th century France, but they do look like Belle.

Maurice says about Belle’s mother, “I knew a girl who was so different, so daring, so ahead of her time that people mocked her until the day they found themselves imitating her.” Belle is ahead of her time, and she creates her own style.

Just look at her gorgeous wedding gown at the end of the movie. This is not an 18th century ballgown, and it’s VERY different from the dresses that the Prince’s guests wear at the beginning of the movie. This is a Belle creation, too. 

I actually want to delve into this ‘ahead of her time’ concept a little more. This movie is very obsessed with the concept of ‘time.’ From the giant clock tower on the palace to the clock character to the falling rose petals that measure the fleeting time until the curse is permanent, to the way the villagers all instantly snap into action the second the clock strikes, the idea of time and schedule is everywhere. The songs all talk about “tale as old as time,” ‘forever,’ etc. 

Belle resists that. She’s the first one awake before the rest of the village springs into motion, singing about how every day is like the one before. She talks the Beast out of trapping Maurice in the castle “forever,” and then later, gets out of that ‘forever’ herself. The rules about the curse even change when the Enchantress transforms the dead Beast back into a living Prince when Belle says “I love you” after the time limit has run out. When she reads books, she likes to be ‘transported’ to other places and times. Belle defies time, while the villagers and the Beast are all defined by it.

When we first meet the Prince, he is fascinated by fashion, and everyone who surrounds him is dressed in the height of style—of their time period. His castle is a monument of Baroque art and over-the-top modern style—and he appreciates none of it. There is so much detail and so much beauty surrounding him that he’s become completely blind to it. Belle changes that. She shows him the beauty in everything around him, re-introduces him to what makes his castle gorgeous all over again. In that famous ballroom scene, the ballroom is incredibly ornate, but the Beast is focusing only on her, in her simple, bright gown as a focal point. She’s given him something to focus on, symbolically and literally.

When Belle comes down the stairs in a dress that’s completely her own style, the Beast doesn’t sneer at her unfashionable dress the way he would have before the curse—he’s in awe of her beauty.

And because of all of that, I think Belle’s dress is  perfect.

After Hours [m]

pairing: reader x Yoongi

Genre: tattoed!yoongi, rapper!tyoongi, angst? fluff? smut, idk how to label this haha

word count: 16,212

warnings: graphic sexual content, alcohol, language

a/n: this is loosely based of Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist. i am v nervous about this as it isn’t the usual angst fueled plot I normally write. so if it’s crap, please be kind haha. i’m tagging the lovely @dimplecoups​ because i know you’ve been waiting for this. and @2seoke for always being the best babe.

Originally posted by lethargicmin

You looked in the mirror, making sure your face mask was properly in place. If you were going to look like a serial killer for the next 20 minutes, you at least wanted to look the part. Your bed was calling your name as you walked over to the soft mattress, choosing to ignore the missed calls and text messages from your best friend. This was the first Saturday night you had to yourself in months. No work. No brother. No best friend. You were free to do whatever you wanted.

Or at least that’s what you had originally intended. But as the door to your bedroom crashed open you soon realized that the night had other plans for you.

“Why haven’t you answered my calls?” your best friend Irene squealed as she plopped down at the foot of your bed. “It’s Saturday night and I know you don’t have to work tomorrow!”

You gave her a look. Well, you tried to give her a look to the best of your ability as the motions of your face was restricted by the sheet mask on top of it. “There’s a reason why I didn’t answer your calls. And just because my idiot brother gave you a key to our apartment doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here any time you want.”

Irene rolled her eyes, blowing a large bubble from the gum she was constantly chewing. She was clearly not amused at your disinterest on leaving your apartment tonight. You reached forward, popping it with your pointer finger. “You’re no fun, Y/N” she whined, collecting the gum back into her mouth.

“I can’t have fun when I’m always too busy taking care of you.” you quipped, reminding her of the last time the two of you went out. “I had to beg that cop not to give you a ticket for being drunk in public. Why aren’t you bothering my brother? I’m sure he would love to see you.”

Keep reading

Imagine Mary realizing both of her sons, Sam and Dean, are in love with the same girl, you.

Originally posted by supernaturalfreewill

Originally posted by soluscheese

“Morning.” Sam mumbled as he walked into the kitchen and saw you, Mary and Castiel there, you still cooking the pancakes and her setting everything else up for breakfast with Castiel’s help.

“Morning sweetie.” Mary smiled up at him as he leaned down to kiss her cheek before he turned to take a good look at you.

“Wow” he breathed out and you looked at him for a second before in the end giggling as you tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“What?” you asked, looking up at the older man as he blinked rapidly, staring at you almost awestruck. You glanced at his mother that was still there but luckily was not looking at the two of you.

“You just- I never thought you’d look this good in my clothes.” he said with an adorable dimpled smile as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

You laughed looking back at the food, after glancing down at yourself for a moment. You weren’t in the mood for trying really hard so along with the messy hair you had stolen one of Sam’s flannels that could work as a dress for you and wore it. It was a nice chance compared to you wearing always Dean’s shirts. There was something similar in this, both their clothes made you feel at peace, they had a certain scent to them that brought the same kind of comfort their hugs did but at the same time that scent was so different. And it reminded you instantly of whose clothes you were wearing.

“Thanks” you bit your lip, opting to look only at the pancakes as you felt your cheeks heat up. You had a soft spot for the younger Winchester, you couldn’t deny that, you were really close and had many things in common. He was sweet and kind, gentle and caring. You knew that when you needed to talk to someone he would always be there for you. You were like a little sister to him, as far as you knew at least, even if for you he meant a lot more than just family. But you weren’t going to do something to risk what you had, you’d much rather bottle up your feelings than ruin all of this.

Besides, he wasn’t the only one involved in all of this.

“But- if you want it back I could give it. I’m sorry I didn’t ask I just- it looked too comfy and I-” you started rambling, trying to find an excuse for yourself but he shook his head.

“No, no no!” he said a little too fast and you bit your lip at his reaction “By all means-” he breathed out “-You can keep it, it looks better on you anyway.” he said adorably and you grinned.

“Thank you Sammy.” you stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek, making his smile even wider.

“So- what do you want with your pancakes, you didn’t tell me?” you asked and he paused in thought for a moment.

“Uhm I think I’ll go with some eggs today.” he paused in thought.

“Do you want me to make them?” you asked, ready to start on them already but he shook his head with a laugh.

“No you already do enough for us.” he pecked your forehead “I’ll do that myself.” he winked and started working on them next to you as you still laughed and chatted happily.

“You know I love taking care of you anyway.” you mumbled with a shy shrug and he smiled warmly.

“Yes, and I know it. But it’s not bad if you take a break once in a while and let us do all the work.” he said matter of factlyand you just shrugged “You know you deserve it.”

“Not as much as you guys do honestly I-” you shook your head, flipping another pancake.

“Dare you complete that sentence.” it was Dean’s stern voice but the moment you looked at him he had a small smile on. You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to win this fight against both of them so you just shook your head.

Oh and he also happened to be the other person involved.

“Morning guys.” he greeted as he kissed Mary and came towards you, not missing a chance to wrap his arms around your waist.

A small squeak left your lips as he pressed his body against yours and you both chuckled in the end as he kissed the back of your head “Damn smells amazing.” he breathed out as he looked over at the pancakes.

“Thought you’d like them, and in case you are not really into pancakes today I made some cherry pie for you.” you smirked and he looked at you with a wide grin.

“Gosh” he breathed out with wide eyes that made him look like a little kid on Christmas day “Marry me!” he grinned and you laughed.

“You’d have to take me out first, Winchester!” you said as you heard him laugh as he squeezed you, burying his face in your hair.

“Anytime princess.” he mumbled, nuzzling his face before in the end he leaned down and kissed your neck.

You giggled as his morning scruff tickled you and you turned your head to peck his cheek, making him smile down at you. It felt so refreshing to see him like this. It has been such a long while since you saw Dean so carefree.

Of course you had gotten the chance to see him relax sometimes, when it was just the two of you and he’d let loose, but those moments were rare. It mostly was you holding him as you either sat in silence or he talked to you about a nightmare- or whatever was worrying him at the moment.

Your relationship with Dean was different from that of Sam. While with Sam you were all playful, most of the time, and acted all cute together: watching movies, reading books and talking about all kinds of nerdy stuff your relationship with Dean was more contact and less words. You’d spent many nights in each other’s rooms just holding each other, gazing into each other’s eyes like some love-sick couple – well you were love sick you couldn’t deny it at least to yourself – and only sometimes talking. Dean wasn’t really a man of words so when it came to just the two of you he talked about only the things that troubled him. But even the few words were enough for you to get a look into his world. Heck, the mere fact that he trusted you with his thoughts and feelings was enough to let you know how important you were to him.

Of course there were serious moments with Sam as well, he too trusted you with his worries as well, and as that there were funny moments with Dean. Both brothers were very similar but at the same time your relationship with each of them was completely different. Each one of them completed a side of you that in returned completed them as well.

“Hey you two-” Sam’s voice got Dean’s attention. You looked at him to, luckily, see he had a small smile on his face “You’re not alone alright?”

“Sadly” Dean added and you giggled as Sam shot him a bitch-face.

“Why don’t you prove yourself useful and and prepare some bacon huh?” Sam obviously found an excuse to get him away from you.

“Oooh yes, love me some bacon!” Dean said with a glint in his eyes and you chuckled at how childish he was being.

“But first-” he said cupping your face as he leaned down and kissed your forehead, his lips much like Sam’s previously lingered a little longer than they should have. He looked down into your eyes, exactly like Sam had done, and offered you one last gentle smile before going back to playful him and started working on his bacon.

The three of you still talked and laughed as you had each Winchester on each side of you. Her sons’ laughter caught Mary’s attention and this time she took a real good look at the three of you. For a second she smiled fondly at how childlike you were all being, happy that her kids looked so carefree around you, but when realization downed on her hersmile faded away.

“Mary?” Castiel’s low voice caught her attention as she looked at the angel.

“Are you alright?” he asked with a small frown.

“Should I be Castiel?” she sighed sadly “I mean, how can I even be? At first I was happy about Dean but now- seeing this-Knowing that my one son’s happiness depends on the other’s grief- how can I be happy?”

“What- what do you mean?” Castiel frowned with a tilt of his head and she looked from the three of you to him.

“I thought seeing my sons fall in love would be something great. I just didn’t know it was going to be with the same girl.”

Cheerleading IS a sport | JJ

Request: a dom!jungkook smut when y/n is a cheerleader and he is like the player of the sport and yeah they could like have the fun in the changing room~

Pairing: Dom!Jungkook, Football!Jungkook X Cheerleader!Reader

Summary: Y/n, best flyer on the cheerleading squad. Jungkook, best kicker and scorer on the football team. What will happen when things get heated between the two all because of something that he just spilled out of his mouth.

Genre: Smut, Angst, Smut

Warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, Dominant!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, hospital handjob, cocky asshole Jungkook

Word Count: 3k+

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The Dress

Hey guys! This is an imagine about the reader doing her best to tease her friend, Tom, because she’s unsure of his feelings for her, in a really hot dress. I’m not even going to lie to you, this story is pure smut? The middle is soft and sweet, but everything else is ?porn? I hope you like it!

The Dress

She and Tom had been ambling through the various art exhibits at her city’s center since before ten A.M., and after they were invited to a lavish restaurant with a group of their friends, she insisted that she change her clothes. From a simple, floral sundress, she slipped into something a little more uncomfortable while Tom waited in her living room, doing his best to keep his integrity and not to sneak a peek. Truth be told, he thought that she looked beyond fine in her sundress. The back dipped low and he could tell that she didn’t have a bra on, plus the flowing fabric of the dress shifted around as she walked and Tom enjoyed flashes of her smooth legs. She looked sweet and innocent, and there was something absolutely perverse in Tom that just wanted to mess it up. Alas, they had chosen to take it slow, so take it slow he tried.

    As soon as they had met, Tom knew that she was the only girl for him, but as of then, she wanted to focus solely on her education. He understood, of course, seeing as her schooling was on the same level of importance as his acting, and he didn’t want to disturb her. He couldn’t bare to be without her once he had began to know her, so he settled for being her friend, but he was positive that it was slowly killing him.

    She was the most kind-hearted person that he had ever come across, always doing what was needed to help others. Beyond that, he’s made the mistake of accompanying her on her trip across town to babysit her cousin’s children where he discovered that she was also the most nurturing soul out there. During their stay at her cousin’s home, he had watched as she simplified Philip Roth’s, ‘A Defender of the Faith,’ into terms so easily understood that four year olds could pick apart the intended theme. Beyond that, she answered all of their questions, even the ones that had him snorting under his breath, with complete respect and sincerity. It was right then that he could feel himself drifting into the haze love with her.

    He felt his heart warm towards her again when they went out for dessert and she took a bite of her sundae, eyes blissfully shut as her lips closed over the chilled spoon. As soon as her lashes fluttered open, she offered Tom the next bite. Ever since then, sharing had been their thing and it was hurling him into love with her.

    She wore his clothes, always giving them back smelling of her perfume. He borrowed her favorite books, films, and favorite places in the city to hide out and be alone. Time and time again, when he was in immediate need of a vehicle and couldn’t find one to rent fast enough, she had handed over her car keys without a second thought. Tom smiled as he waited for her to get dressed, fiddling with the ginormous copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories, a personal favorite of theirs to read.

In her room, she stood between two options. One dress was wholesome and cute, a typical outfit of hers, and the other was daring, sultry and, for lack of a better word, tiny. She hopelessly coveted Tom’s affection, but she was unsure of how to obtain it. Sure they had flirted from time to time, but she wanted to make him want her indefinitely, and if the dress would help her accomplish that, than so be it. He was all that was in her heart and all she wanted to do was to immerse him in love. Her best friend had encouraged her to purchase the dress for this very reason, and she refused to let something so pretty rot in the back of her closet. Slipping on some high heels and adding another coat of mascara, she exited her room.

“Are you ready, my love?” Tom called as he listened for the sound of heels clicking against her wood floors. He turned around and saw her before she could respond.

    She looked so lusciously risque that Tom couldn’t even form an eloquent thought in his brain. In the crest if the hallway, she stood in front of him wearing a dress so small and delicate that Tom was certainly convinced he could tear off her body using only his teeth, and sweet heavens, oh how he wanted to.

    “Holy mother of fucking hell,” Tom hissed through gritted teeth, “you’re going to fucking kill me, babydoll.”

    Truth be told, her dress had been located in the lingerie section of the store, but after sending photos of the dress to practically every contact in her phone, despite Tom, she decided it was approved nightwear. People wore less and got away with it all the time, she thought.

She was dressed in a soft, blush-toned, silk nightie that barely reached the top of her thighs. The straps were made of lace and the front dipped low so low that if she were to bend down to touch the floor, the dress would move to reveal her bellybutton. Her back was exposed, seeing as the nightie was backless and she’d made sure to get the next size up so it would be just baggy enough to show a little side-boob. The heels she wore were tall and nude, and they elongated her legs so well that they looked endless.

“Ready?” She chirped, making a show of swinging her hips as she walked past Tom, eager to unveil her dress’s scandalous lack of backing. She heard him mumble unintelligible curses once more.

“You, are you, wearing, you’re going to wear that out?” Tom asked as he locked the door, realizing that there was absolutely no way that he was going to make it through dinner with her when she was practically naked in front of him. He knew it was not his place, or anyone’s place, to dictate what she wore, but he was seriously concerned for his sanity at this point. He was either going to need to leave early or masturbate in the bathroom.

She cocked her head to the side to gaze up at him through her lower lashes, “yes, Tom,” she said, placing her hands on his chest, “why wouldn’t I? Don’t you like it?” She knew full well that she was laying it on thick, but she was determined to break him down.

He swallowed thickly. She was looking at him how he always imagined she’d look at him in bed. Her eyes were glossed over, she rolled her lower lip beneath her teeth, her chest moved rapidly up and down, she smelled like freshly picked daisies and Tom knew he was so beyond fucked. Was she doing this to him on purpose?

“I just don’t want you to be cold is all,” he stuttered out, which was true, but not his only unease about her napkin of a dress.

She’d thought this out as well. It had come to her understanding that Tom liked to see her in his clothes, so she smiled up at him, leaning even closer if humanly possibly and with her lips pressed an inch away from the base of his throat, uttered, “could I borrow your jacket? I don’t have one that’ll go with my outfit, but I really like yours.”

Tom coughed, “yeah, of course you can, sweet girl,” before removing his jean jacket and draping it across her shoulders, praying that she would at least button it up.

Curling her arms around Tom in a hug, she whispered words of thanks and left his coat perched gently atop her shoulder blades. She turned and began to make her way down the apartment complex’s hallway, not waiting for Tom to catch up.

“I’m going to die,” he mumbled before readjusting his jeans and hurrying after her.

On the walk there, she had teased him like no other, and Tom was becoming not only extremely hot, but very bothered.

First, she’d paused and asked him if he could check to see if her buckle on her heels was broken. She had rationed that she would do it herself, but her dress was too short. Once he’d knelt down, she’d shifted so that her leg was lifted almost over his shoulder and ruffled her hands through his hair, claiming that she needed to steady herself so she didn’t fall. She let out at airy groan as soon as his hand curled over her ankle to hold her still, brushing off his raised eyebrows as her just being sleepy. Tom had gotten a clear look at the white, lace panties she was wearing by accident, but he suspected she had done moved just so he would see.

Then, she had asked him if he could hold her phone for her, seeing as she had forgotten her bag. When Tom said that he could, she ignored his outstretched palm and slipped her phone directly into his jean pocket herself. Frankly, Tom was getting a little pissed off.

To make matters worse, when they rode up in the elevator together to reach the restaurant, they’d unluckily gotten stuck on the busiest ride. When he crowded into the corner, she had made sure to rub her bum against the bulge in his jeans the entire way up, apologizing when they got to their floor, telling him that she was just too close to the man in front of her. At this point, Tom knew better. He didn’t know what she was playing at, but he was going to demand to be informed as soon as they were alone.

He’d just have to make it through dinner.

    However, Tom couldn’t even make it through the appetizers before he demanded to speak with her alone. Their friends had taken notice to her attire immediately after she took off his coat because it was so different than what she normally wore and had teased the pair throughout the entirety of their time together.

    Everyone was well aware of their feelings for one another, and did their best to mush them together as often as possible. Due to their party being so large, she was practically sat on Tom’s lap and she offered him food straight from her fork, which wasn’t unusual for them, it just felt different tonight. There was nowhere Tom could put his hands without touching her bare skin and he’d just about lost his mind.

    Securing a firm hand around her waist, Tom yanked her back roughly against his chest, “we’re going out outside right now.” They were sat so close together that Tom could hear her heart beat faster.

    “Why?” She asked, her brow furrowing.

    Tom stood, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her away from their meal, “are you honestly asking me why?” He scoffed, grumbling out a half-assed lie about where and the reason that they needed to leave. Tom was all too prepared to endure the taunts from their friends, he didn’t care anymore.

    He led her through the sea of people, pushing past without a single ‘excuse me.’ Tom knew that he was being a dick but he didn’t have it in him to care. If she wanted to make it her mission to provoke him, as she clearly had, Tom was sure as hell going to let her know that she succeeded.

    As soon as they were far enough away from the crowd to not be overheard, he whipped around and exclaimed, “what the fuck is this about? Have I done something to you? Have you lost your mind?” Tom began to pace up and in front of her, “like I know you must realize what you’re doing to me?”

    All of her bashfulness returned. Teasing Tom all day had honestly worked her up too. He made her feel so wanted, and thoughts of him touching her and her touching him had wormed their way into her mind throughout their evening. She’d never thought that he would confront her about her actions, and now that he was, and he looked so good doing it, she didn’t know what to do with herself.

    “What do you mean?” She asked, focusing on the uneven sidewalk rather than to meet Tom’s gaze.

    Sighting a cramped corridor near behind a closed shop, Tom took ahold of her hand and dragged her into the corridor’s cover. Now, they wouldn’t be seen by anyone as long as they were quiet.

    He breathing hard and he knew he was pressed into her and she could feel his hardness poking against her leg. “Darling, don’t you dare play like that. I swear I’ll lose my mind,” he raked a hand through his hair, “well, more than I already have.”

    She gnawed on the inside of her cheek, knowing that as of right now, she could either be brave and possibly turn their friendship into something much larger, or she could apologize and have things stay the same. Harrison had mentioned that Tom had feelings for her right after they’d met, so she prayed that he still did.

    She fluttered her long eyelashes and stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. “Do you want me?” She asked, doing her best to make her voice as sultry as she could.

    Tom was hesitant to move from her touch. She smelled like freshly picked flowers, he could feel her breasts rise and fall with her intake of breath, and she was looking up at him through her lashes with parted lips and it was too much for him to handle. “What do you mean?”

    Her next sentence was almost impossible for her to choke out. She was losing her confidence, did he really not know what she meant or was he playing dumb to avoid hurting her feelings? “Do you wanna kiss me?” She averted her eyes before quickly adding, “it’s okay if you don’t.”

    “Sweetheart,” Tom started and she stumbled away from him, not even waiting to hear what he had to say.

    “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” She stuttered, ignoring his pleas for her to come back to him. She couldn’t believe that she had just spent the entire night humiliating herself.

    Tom jogged down the street after her, thanking the universe that the heels she wore were so high that she couldn’t really move too quickly without falling over. He curled a soft hand around her arm, pulling her back into his chest.

    “You didn’t stop and listen to me,” Tom chided, before wrapping another arm around her to keep her in place. “What I was going to ask you is where this is all coming from? You said you didn’t want anything other than friendship, and I don’t want this to be just a one night thing. You mean too much to me for that. I’m just confused is all.”

    “I wanna be with you, Tom, isn’t that obvious? I really like you, and I just thought that if you didn’t like me, maybe this would help?” Her eyes were tearing, her brain was melting and her hands shook. She couldn’t concentrate on anything but him.

    Tom let out a belly laugh, “what are you talking about? Of course I like you, I’ve been telling my mum for months that I love you! This is ridiculous, you didn’t need to do all this!” Tom exclaimed, his words not registering in his mind until a soft ‘oh’ fell from her lips.

    “Can, could, you, do you want to say that again?” She stammered, covering his lips tenderly with her own before Tom even had a chance to respond. Breaking away almost as soon as she started, she took his cheeks in her palms and whispered, “I love you.”

    Everything was happening so rapidly, and Tom firmly grasped her waist and pulled her in to kiss him. They made-out so furiously on the sidewalk that they got numerous honks and catcalls from passing cars and bikers alike.

    Tom groaned into her mouth when her body brushed up against the hardness constricted by his black jeans. “I love you and I wanted our first kiss to be romantic, but I swear to god darling, if we keep at this, I’m going to ruin these pants.”

    She kissed the corner of his mouth before taking his hand and pulling him behind the corridor Tom had found a few minutes before. As soon as the corridor’s pillars provided them coverage, she sank to her knees in front of Tom. “I’ve never done this before, so you’re going to have to teach me.”

    “No, no, I didn’t mean that you had to do this, not if you don’t want to,” Tom said, urging her to get up as the image of her on her knees for him made his jeans even tighter, if that was even possible anymore. He couldn’t imagine her doing it to him here, well he could, but he didn’t want her to feel obligated to suck him off before she was ready, especially seeing as this was her first time.

    “Tom,” she said, without budging, “I want to. I think about it all the time.”

    He cursed again, the thought of her getting off to thoughts of him was almost too much. Tom palmed himself through his jeans.

    “Just tell me how you want me,” She said, her voice sounding as Tom imagined silk would feel against his skin.

    “Fuck,” he mumbled, “you’re sure? If you wanna stop, just say so and I’ll be okay with it.” Tom bent down to kiss her, already planning to reciprocate back at her apartment. “I’m not going to last long because you’ve been prancing around nearly naked all night long.”

    A blush spread across her cheeks as she began to undo his jeans.

    Tom moaned as soon as she touched him, and he moaned even louder when the warmth of her mouth slid down his length. “Fucking hell, baby,” he rasped out, begining to instruct her on how to take him.

    After about ten minutes, he was done. He was struggling to still his hips and his hands had tangled themselves into her shiny locks, and Tom knew that he was going to finish. He swore that if she gagged again, he’d blow right there.

    “You’ve done so well, sweetheart,” Tom groaned, removing a hand from her hair to place it on the hollows of her cheek. “Let me finish it.”

    She didn’t halt her movements but Tom could tell that she was confused. At this point, she was taking him so deep that he could feel her fluttering lashes against his skin.

    “No, darling, I’m going to cum. If you don’t wanna swallow, you need to stop.” Tom advised, not having the willpower to move away from her heavenly mouth.

    On that note, she started bobbing her head even faster, and taking Tom so far back that he was almost positive he was going to hit the back of her throat. He cursed, unable to form a coherent sentence, all he could think of her how good she felt. A moment later, he came down her throat, and she sucked him off even through that.

    When she released him from the slickness of her mouth, the first thing Tom did was bend down to kiss her swollen lips. “I fucking love you,” he groaned breathlessly.

    Her eyes closed and she drifted into the warmth of his touch, “tell me again.” And Tom did, helping her to her feet and removing the jean jacket she’d given back to him at the restaurant. Tom helped her slide it on and buttoned it up almost all the way.

    He kissed her nose, “what do you want to do, my love?”

    She beamed shyly up at him, “can we go home and do it again?”

    Tom pressed an openmouthed kiss to her neck, “oh yeah, baby, you haven’t had your turn yet.”

   


a thing I love about the TransDanny headcanon: there’s a photo of Danny and Maddie when he was little, happily dressed and presenting as male, meaning that his parents either accepted him as trans from a young age, or allowed him to dress himself and have his hair done as short as he wanted and not forcing him to conform to gender roles, which allowed his coming out to be a lot easier

did he have a phase where everyone just called him a ‘tomboy’? or did he announce that he was a boy early on and that was that from then on? did he start school as Daniel or Danielle? like maybe it was one of those kids will be kids things where he wanted to be a boy for a day and his parents were like, 'aww that’s cute we’ll let her have her fun’ but a day became a week, a month, a year, he never grew out of it because he was never just playing pretend

personally I like to think that it started with Maddie and Jack just having super lax views on gender roles, unsurprising since Jack loves knitting which he might have been made fun of for because it’s 'feminine’ and Maddie is very strong and self sufficient and grew up with a big tough sister who wears her hair short and acts very 'masculine’, so they already have experience subverting traditional gender roles

so when they have a daughter who drags them to the boy aisle as soon as she’s old enough to choose her own clothes/toys and asks for a short haircut like that Chip Skylark guy who sings about his shiny teeth on tv, Maddie and Jack are just like, yeah sure why not? their kid can look however she wants

Danny was able to present as male from a very early age, his parents treated him and Jazz equally regardless of gender and I feel like maybe he didn’t even think to ask to be referred to by male pronouns until he got to school and the kids immediately assumed he was male and he realised ho dang, this feels RIGHT.

and then he’d have the teachers calling him Danielle and referring to him as female and another kid is like, umm Danny’s a boy tho?? and the teacher looks at this little boy with little boy hair and little boy clothes and is like, oh uh sorry kid there must have been a mistake in the paperwork, was it supposed to say Daniel?

and he’s just like yES YES DANIEL THAT’S RIGHT THAT IS MY NAME ALWAYS YEP

but then he feels bad because technically he 'lied’ to the teacher so he goes home and doesn’t say anything because he thinks his parents will be mad at him for lying on his first day at school

and then the parents get a call from some very confused school staff asking whether or not they’d enrolled a boy or a girl because they had a Danielle Fenton in the paperwork but a Daniel Fenton was dropped off to class this morning and that’s when Maddie and Jack were like… oooooh okay so this is how it is

they tell the school that he’s definitely a boy, always has been, they don’t say he’s trans because they probably don’t even know that word exists but they do know that their daughter seems far more comfortable as their son and they don’t see a problem with that and as far as they’re concerned it’s none of the school’s business

they’d probably sit Danny down for a talk after that in which he starts crying and apologising and they have to spend about ten minutes ensuring him that he isn’t in trouble for lying at school and if he wants to be a boy that’s okay they can call him a boy for as long as he wants, he just has to let them know if he changes his mind but if he doesn’t then that’s okay too, they just want him to be happy

and from that point on he was pretty much just the Fentons’ son, his parents would buy him binders and do research on trans kids to make sure they were doing the right thing and as soon as he was old enough for T they said they’d support him whether or not he wanted to take it and if there were any complications it was okay because he was still their boy no matter what his body looked like

I mean just, the Fentons have fucked up a lot of aspects of parenthood so I just really really REALLY want them to have done this one RIGHT or as right as they possibly can, they might be quite scatterbrained and neglectful at times but it’s clear that they really do love their kids, and were probably a lot closer with them when they were young, so it makes sense to me that they would be accepting of Danny’s identity even from such a young age

all they want is for their kids to feel happy and safe, which means when they find out he’s half ghost it still doesn’t MATTER, because they already promised they’d accept him no matter what

Involved

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: i honestly don’t know if i like this or not but like……..fwb peter

Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5

Originally posted by peterbparkerr

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Harry Fake Dates Kendall but is in Love With You

A/n: This is an updated version of an imagine I’ve previously uploaded. I know Hendall is so 2015. I get it.

Masterlist linked in bio.


The red wine leaves a particular stain on Harry’s lips that he hadn’t noticed until Kendall pointed it out to him.

“It looks like you’re wearing lipstick” she laughs, “I didn’t know you were going to dress up this much for the party.”

They are currently sat at his mum’s kitchen island, drinking red wine while munching on some chips left out for the guests. The house is filled with familiar faces, friends and family all throughout London coming together for Anne’s birthday celebration.

They hosted one every year for as long as Harry could remember, a time of year where nearly every one of his family members, including his step family, would unite. It was their favorite time of year, believe it or not. Despite all the excitement for the holidays, Anne’s birthday celebration was certainly something special.

It was Kendall’s first time attending, considering the fact that Harry had only really talked to her whenever he was assigned to be with her for publicity. It wasn’t always ideal, however, he built a stable friendship with her, so he didn’t mind the extra company with him from time to time.

She was invited last minute, of course, since his management called last night to ask if there was any way for them to be seen together. With Harry’s new movie coming out and his solo album just released a couple weeks ago, it was almost a given for him to be rumored with a girlfriend. That’s how it’s worked all throughout his career.

He normally wouldn’t have minded, however, this was the worst possible date for him to be with Kendall.

Because it’s Anne’s birthday party, this means that it’ll be the first time in one year that he’ll be seeing Y/n. They have been best friends since they were five years old, basically growing up in the same house as they went through school together. But as time went on, and as they both went to their separate ways, it was hard to keep in touch with each other all the time.

She remained in the small towns of London while Harry was traveling world wide, where his name became known everywhere as Y/n’s was only known through people she attended school with. Of course, they still talked, considering they both admitted to having more than friendship feelings, but their lives were busy in their own ways, preventing them from being more than what they wanted to be.

For the past couple months, Harry planned that this would be the day he’d finally move forward with Y/n. Or, at least attempt to. With the loss of her over the past year, it made Harry realize just how much he couldn’t imagine a life without her. It had been so long—too long, and he couldn’t stand how long he’s lived without keeping in touch with her.

But now, everything he planned for the two of them is becoming impossible. He can’t begin to imagine how Y/n would feel knowing he brought Kendall to his mum’s birthday party after they both confessed their love for each other. In all honesty, he wouldn’t blame her for giving up on him. He keeps doing this to her, even if it’s unintentional.

He watches around the kitchen at the guests he hasn’t seen in quite a while. His leg bounces with impatience when each new person walking in to attend the party isn’t Y/n. It’s been nearly an hour and has never been so late to anything before.

And as horrible as it sounds, he almost wishes she doesn’t come, just so that she can avoid the heartbreak that will come when she reunites with Kendall again.

“I’m sorry I’m late!”

Harry’s head whips around when he hears the voice he’s been deprived of for the past year. The first thing he notices are her lips, and the way they move around her words so softly. They’re slightly glazed with a lipgloss, painting her lips with a rosy shade of pink. They look so much fuller to him now, but he knows not a trace of them are artificial.  

His eyes only drift from the shape of her lips when her fingers reach to tuck loose pieces of hair behind her ear. It’s then he notices just how much shorter her hair has gotten. What was once so long and lank is now falling just above the shoulder, set in luscious curls he can only imagine twisting around his fingers.

His jaw goes slack when he sees the pale pink dress she’s wearing. It’s made from silk, the metallic fabric glowing with each step she takes. He gulps when he notices just how much the dress accentuates the curvature of her body and how much of her legs are put on display for him to see, and he can’t help but to wipe the sweat off his palms when he watches her greet his mother with a proper kiss on the cheek.

He notices that his eyes haven’t shut since he’s seen her, but he’s so completely intrigued by how much has changed in her. Something about her seems so much more real—so much more vibrant—and he can’t seem to stop himself from praising how time has done her so goddamn well.

“You never told me she was going to be here.“

His body jerks at Kendall’s sudden appearance, her body slowly occupying the seat next to his at the kitchen island. If it wasn’t for her, he swears he would have caught himself drooling.

“Didn’t think I had to,” he says with a shrug, “she’s been my best friend since we were five. She’s basically apart of this family, she wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

Y/n hasn’t missed a single one of Anne’s birthday celebrations since she’s known Harry. Their bond is irreplaceable—so irreplaceable, in fact, that Anne has been convinced Y/n is a miracle for their family. She was there for them through all the troubled times; helping them through their hardships and family instabilities.

When Anne and her husband first got divorced, Harry and Y/n were seven. Harry didn’t understand much of what was happening, all he knew was that his mum and dad weren’t going to love each other anymore. He was hurting, even when Gemma was there to try and keep him together. He started to believe everything between his parents was a lie.

She understood the whole separation process. Her mum left her at a young age, leaving her alone with her father. They were close, of course, but she always missed having a mother figure in her life. It made her upset to know she could only listen to one voice in the house, but as she grew older, she accepted it more.

By the time she met Harry, he kept bringing her over to his house as the years went on. Anne was the closest she had to mother, and their bond became unbreakable by the time Y/n was a teenager. Nearly seven years of Y/n being like another member of the family, Y/n started buying Anne Mother’s Day cards.

So when Y/n watched her second family fall apart, along with Anne’s heart, and she was determined to patch them back together again. Even at her young age, she’d pick flowers from her garden and give them to Anne everyday after school. Y/n said they represented her, and how she felt being a woman with such love and beauty could die all too quickly. Harry never understood what it meant, but Y/n did, which is why she never stopped until she heard Anne laughing again.

She also started to draw pictures and write her letters, reminding her of how loved she was by everyone. As much as Anne was heartbroken during the time, she took the letters everywhere she went and kept every flower alive for as long as she possibly could. Anne would always tell Harry “That girl came into our lives for a reason, my love. She’s a special one, our little miracle, never let her go. You hear me?”

Harry didn’t understand what it truly meant to let someone go, but he did his best to do anything but that. And now, as Harry sits on his mother’s kitchen island and seeing Y/n for the first time in a year, he feels he’s done just that.

“Guess not.” Kendall mutters, taking her last sip of the red wine left in her glass. “She’s just so strange, I guess. I can barely hold a conversation with her without her making an excuse to leave.”

Kendall and Y/n never really got along, it was extremely noticeable to everyone who held a conversation with the both of them. They just don’t see things in the same light. Y/n is very outgoing and lively; an extreme extrovert that seeks adventure—and Kendall can’t stand it. She thinks Y/n does it for attention, especially because she’s remained a small town girl while being surrounded by well-known celebrities. And even though it may seem like Y/n likes the attention, that’s not her purpose. She gives all her attention to others, never to herself, and it has always been something Harry loved the most.

And when it comes to Y/n, Kendall was that one thing that was constantly in her way of Harry. No matter how many times Harry and Y/n discussed how there was something between them, Kendall always found her way back to haunt her. She was her worst goddamn nightmare. She was perfect for Harry in the public eye, and nothing made Y/n feel worse than knowing she’ll never be her type of perfect, especially when it came to Harry.

But Kendall doesn’t know that. All she knows is that Y/n is extremely stand-offish with her, and she’ll never understand why.

“She’s not used to our lives. It’s extremely difficult for her to understand how we live, you know? She’s normal.”

Kendall scoffs, eyes rolling around the room because she hates that word. She feels so divided, like she’s in a categorization in society and everything about it makes her teeth clench.

“We’re normal, too, you know. I don’t understand why she feels so intimated and feels like she has something to prove.”

Harry’s jaw clenches slightly at the negative connotes Kendall has about Y/n’s life. Something about it makes his stomach twist the wrong way, and he can’t help the underlying growl in between his words.

“We’re not normal. Deep down, you and I both know that. You also don’t know Y/n, so stop making irrational assumptions about her.”

Kendall narrows her eyes at Harry, a gaze full of confusion and disbelief at the undeniable grumble in his tone. Any rational conversation they have about Y/n always end the same—with Harry quick to end the discussion and jump to her defense. It’s times like these Kendall never understood the true extent of Harry and Y/n’s relationship. They always claimed it was platonic but there has always been a sense of something stronger in them, like unaddressed or unchased feelings, or a past they shared that was kept between the two.

Either way, it annoyed the shit out of Kendall because they both were hiding something that she’ll never be able to get answered.

“Fine, whatever.” She sighs dramatically, scooting her chair back until she has room to stand properly. “Want some more wine? Getting some.”

Harry slides his empty wine glass so that it’s in front of her, muttering a small “yeah, thanks” before she’s on her way to the counter across the room, retrieving extra wine and mingling with some of Harry’s family.

Harry sighs while his head rests at the palm of his hand, eyes gazing directly to where Y/n is standing. His lips tug up lightly when he hears her laugh from the living room, his tongue running over his bottom lip ever so slightly as he watches her mouth lift and her eyes squint shut as she catches up with one of his uncles about his grand annual weekend fishing trip.

And as his eyes stay so transfixed on the woman in the other room, he can’t help but imagine seeing that type of perfection every day for the rest of his life.

“And everyone thinks Sweet Creature is about me..”

Harry’s head snaps to Gemma’s figure leaning over the edge of the island, her elbows hitched on the counter as a small smirk plays on her lips. She found it abnormally amusing how he didn’t even acknowledge her presence until she spoke, too invested in hawking over Y/n’s every move.

Harry grumbles, but the smile from Y/n’s laughter is permanent on his lips when he does so. Gemma even notices his cheeks brighten with pink, another hint of confirmation to the words she spoke.

“Shut up, Gem.“

She puts her arms up defensively, “Hey, don’t take it out on me. I’m just making an observation.”

Harry rolls his eyes as Gemma wraps her arm around his neck, hunching over so that her lips are close to his ear and eyes are directed toward Y/n again.

“She has gotten hotter, hasn’t she?”

She has no idea. All Harry can think about is how someone already so beautiful has grown to be so perfect. Everything about her makes Harry want to get down on his knees and worship every inch of her body. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from thinking how much of a wreck he wants to make out of her.

“I don’t know how she did it. You better get her while you still have the chance, I know many, many men who want a taste of her.”

No is the first thing Harry thinks when the words leave from Gemma’s mouth. As hypocritical and selfish as it is, knowing other men have shown an interest in her makes his skin crawl. And he can’t help but feel his throat tighten at the moment Y/n realizes he had brought Kendall to this party.

“Is she—“ he can’t even finish his sentence without his jaw tightening again, hindering the rest of his question from leaving his lips.

“Oh, quit your worrying, H. She’s single, I don’t think she’d ever date someone who isn’t you. Besides, I don’t think you can do much about it with Kendall here.”

Gemma lifts a finger to where Kendall is standing, still in the same spot as she talks to his aunt Leslie. His heart hurts knowing what Y/n will feel when she finds out. He knows that there is always a part of her that feels discouraged whenever there’s a new woman in his life. In between Harry and Y/n’s love for each other was a mix of false hopes and miscommunication, and it always fucked them up whenever anything else was put in their way.

Gemma pats his shoulder before making rounds to her family and friends again, leaving Harry slumped against the counter with not a drop of wine to numb his scrambling mind.

When Y/n finishes catching up with the rest of Harry’s family, she finds that her patience is wearing thin. It’s been a year since she’s seen the love of her life, and knowing that he’s somewhere near her is enough to get her heart racing.

When she sees him sitting alone at the kitchen island, wearing his infamous pink suit and staring down at his fingers, it’s as if her body starts to malfunction. Her legs stop moving and her lips part, eyes glistening with admiration as she sees him for the first time in so long.

He’s as beautiful as ever, his new haircut accentuating his facial structure. His lips seem so much more red, too, which are complimented greatly by that goddamn suit. Everything about him radiates, like he’s developed into a whole other person. She’ll never quite grasp the idea that she’s about to reunite with him; something about it makes her palms sweat.

“Hey, stranger.”

Harry lifts his head up to look at her in all her glory. His heart warms at her presence more than the wine did, and he can’t help but to take a breath of relief when he finally hears her voice again.

“Y/n.” He breathes out, his fingers instinctively reaching up to the ends of her cut hair.

He chokes out a laugh of admiration when he sees her this close to him. She is so much different—so much more perfect than he ever remembers her being and it takes his breath away.

His fingers twist her hair, wrapping them around the digits before letting the strands fall back in place again. He never saw her without her hair down to her waist, and now that he has, he never wants to see her hair past her shoulders again.

“It’s so beautiful” he whispers, “you look so beautiful like this, Y/n. I absolutely love it.”

She blushes, her chin tucking slightly into her neck as if trying to hide how much of a reaction he got out of her. No matter how many years she’s known him, she was never used to the way he spoke to her.

“It was spontaneous. Really wanted a change, and it looks like I’m not the only one.”

Her hands reach to his hair, which is so much shorter compared to the last time she saw him. She remembered she couldn’t keep her hands out of it last year, constantly finding ways to tangle her fingers at the ends. Harry found it hysterical, actually, and thought it was the cutest thing she’s ever done.

“It’s just so soft” she’d say, “it’s like a whole other world in there!”

But now her only option is to tangle her fingers at the roots, and as she does so, her mind drifts to all the other occasions she could have her hands in his hair again.

“It’s so much shorter. Look at that! I can barely tug on it anymore!” She laughs in amusement, her fingers slipping as she pulls too hard.

He smirks up at her, a giggle falling from his lips as he watches her utterly amused reaction. They begin to catch up with the part of their lives they both have missed. Harry talked about his album while Y/n started discussing her new journalism job.

Talking to Y/n is one of the only normal parts of him left, it always gave him a sense of grounding whenever he felt his career was taking off to heights he wasn’t ready for. She is one of the only sense of normality he has left in his life, and it’s another reason as to why he admires her so dearly. She brought out parts of him nobody else could reach, and it’s another reason why he feels so upset he’s barely talked to her.

“Y/n?” he asks hesitantly, reaching his hand over so that his fingertips graze her hand.

Her breath breaks when he touches her, the softness in his voice proving that what is about to be discussed is far more important than their previous conversation. She notices the stress lines in between his forehead and the parting of his wine stained lips when he begins to speak. 

“I’m so sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you. I know how it makes me look, especially after everything that happened between us. With the new album and everything, I’ve just been so busy with—“

“Kendall?”

Harry’s head jumps to where Y/n stares dumbfounded, Kendall holding two glasses of wine in one hand while the other is carrying a plate of chicken wings. She’s looking down at Y/n, too, her eyebrows lifted up in an intimidating manner. There’s a scowl present on her lips as she continues to tower over her.

Y/n feels tears building in her eyes as she takes in the situation at hand. She was so fucking dumb to think that Harry was going to come to Anne’s party alone, especially since his new album just released. This is Kendall’s prime time appearance, when Harry needs a familiar famous face beside him to advertise his solo career.

This isn’t anything new—this isn’t anything unfamiliar, but the pain feels like a fresh wound to her heart. Harry and Y/n are nearly 24, with having known each other and felt something for each other for years, she thought that if anything were going to happen, it was going to happen now. But everything between them has remained stagnant for so long that the last sliver of hope she had for their potential relationship has been completely taken away from her. By Kendall, again.

“W—Wow, I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know Harry had invited you.”

“Yeah,” Kendall nods, “he invited me last night.”

Last night.

Y/n’s lips purse together, nodding her head as her eyes drift around the kitchen. Anything to avoid Kendall’s eyes—anything to feel as unimportant as she does now.

Harry’s eyes squeeze shut, a small hissing releasing from his tongue at how wrong it all sounds, considering absolutely nothing happened between Harry and Kendall the previous night besides being demanded that the two of them are to be seen together again.

“Right,” Y/n’s voice cracks, “well, I’m sorry to interrupt your time together. I’m going to go to Gemma’s room, got a phone call from my dad a while ago so I should go check up on him. I’ll see you guys around.”

She musters up a pathetic smile before practically running away from them. After everything they both told each other, after all the feelings they’ve had toward each other, how could Harry keep doing this to her? How could he keep being with Kendall when he says he loves Y/n?

She doesn’t even find the strength in her to hold in her tears before she approaches the steps, not daring to look back at them again. She never wants to see them in the same room again, it’ll be too much her heart can handle. 

“You’ve really got to be fucking kidding me, Kendall.” Harry growls.

His hands fist around the wine glass, his knuckles turning white and he’s absolutely shocked it hasn’t shattered into pieces in his hands from all the anger pulsing through his veins.

Jesus, Harry, neither one of you can take a joke. Does she not understand that all of this is for the press? She keeps acting like we’re a couple.”

“Could you really blame her after that? ‘He invited me last night,’ you’re really getting a kick out of making her uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

He grumbles as he takes a long sip of his wine, hoping that the alcohol loosens his muscles enough to restrain himself from doing anything he regrets. He loves his mum too much to start an argument during her birthday party, and as much as Kendall’s shifting Harry’s mood, he still appreciates her as a friend to ruin anything.

“That wasn’t even my fault, you both dug into that way too deep. Last night does not mean while we were fucking. It’s a time of day.”

“It’s the way you said it.”

“Are you being serious, Harry?”

He slams his glass down on the island, grumbling under his breath while he stands up from his chair. No matter how much anger is in him now, the only thoughts swirling in his brain are wondering if Y/n’s okay. She would have never left the party to go into a secluded room, not even if her dad called her.

“You leave her the fuck alone, Kendall. I mean it.”

He storms away from her, desperate to find Y/n because God only knows what’s really happening in that bedroom. Y/n’s emotions and feelings are always positive, always so bright, and he refuses to be the reason they turn upside down. She doesn’t deserve all he keeps doing to her, she doesn’t deserve him.

When Harry nearly swings himself onto the first step, he can already hear the soft murmur of Y/n’s and Anne’s voice, which makes him stop from approaching them any more than he has already.

“Y/n? Y/n, darling?” Anne asks with worry when she sees Y/n climbing up the top step with tears in her eyes, soft cries falling from her throat as her hand attempts to silence them.

She reaches an arm out for her, tugging at the front of Y/n’s dress slightly to get her attention. She’s grateful it was Anne who found her this way instead of any other guest at the party, considering nobody besides her and Harry have seen her with a frown on her face.

“Y/n, baby, what’s going on with you?”

The lights are off in the hallway, with no guests permitted in the area, which gives Y/n the proper time to fully allow her tears to fall down her cheeks.

“I’m so s—sorry, Anne.” Y/n cries.

Anne’s hands rub her shoulders, reassuring her that there’s absolutely nothing for her to apologize for. It also lets her know that she’s willing to listen to her, no matter where or when—she’ll always be there.

“I’m almost 24, Anne, and I’ve put so much of my life on hold for him.”

She knows instantly who Y/n’s talking about. It wasn’t difficult to notice the undying connection between Y/n and her son, especially as the years went on. They have grown so strongly together, there has never been a doubt in Anne’s mind that Y/n is going to be the girl Harry ends up marrying. Everyone in the family called it a destiny waiting to happen, but it has been so long since anything has happened between them, and Anne can’t help but feel heartbroken to know Y/n’s carrying the wrong idea about him and Kendall.

“And I’ve sacrificed so m—much to continue waiting for him, but I don’t think I can keep doing this anymore. We’re nowhere near where we should be, especially when he keeps spending time with Kendall and I just—I just don’t know if I can—“

“Oh, my darling.” Anne sighs, cradling Y/n’s head against her shoulder as she rubs down her back.

She shushes her through her tears, rocking her slightly in an attempt to calm her from her cries. It’s extremely rare for Y/n to feel upset, so when she does so, Anne knows she deserves all the comfort and love she can get.

“I know you so well, and I know my son. I always knew you were a match made in heaven, my dear. I knew from the start you were more than just an ordinary girl. You’re so special, to everyone in our family, but especially to him. He may not have his head screwed on right most of the time, but if I can promise you anything with all my heart, it’s that he loves you. Please, no matter what, never forget that.”

Y/n nods against her shoulder, thanking her through her violent cries before Anne insists she takes some time to herself. And as much as Y/n wanted to refrain from going into Harry’s bedroom, it’ll be the only place that brings her a sense of comfort.

Harry already knows he’s in for a lecture the second he sees his mum coming down the stairs with bewildered eyes. She grips his shoulders, her face tight with frustration.

“Mum—“

“You go over to her and you be the man I taught you to be, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes widen at her words, swallowing thickly at the thought of disappointing another person in his life.

“She loves you and you love her. Stop doing favors for other people and start thinking about you before you ruin both of your lives forever. You hear me?”

Harry nods feverishly, determined and more motivated than ever to fix all that he’s caused. Love comes first, always, and he needs to remember that before he breaks Y/n’s heart completely.

She’s it. She’s all that matters to him.

He barely responds to Anne before he’s racing to his old bedroom, completely clueless as to what he’s going to say, but willing to do anything to get her back.

“Y/n?” Harry calls through the door of his old bedroom. “Y/n, can I come in?” 

He knocks on the door lightly, just using the knuckles of his pointer and middle finger. He hears her feet pad over to the door, opening it to reveal her tear stained cheeks. Her hands are trembling against the knob, her breath broken with soft, gentle cries. Her eyes are widened with sadness, wet and red from tears she barely ever cries.

“Y/n.” He whimpers, tentatively reaching his shaking fingers up to her cheeks. He wipes away the tears from the bottoms of her eyes, sighing upsettingly as her eyes close at his touch. “Never seen you like this. Please talk to me.”

Her lips quiver as another sob rips through her, her hand reaching up to capture his between her fingers. Her saddened and wet eyes looking down at the intertwined hands now resting against her lap.

“I’m so tired, H.” She whimpers, “So tired.”

His lips press against her forehead, “I know, love. I know.”

She wraps her arms around him, her face burying in between his chest as he lets her tears soak in his undershirt.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I’d finally be alone with you after all this time. I missed being close to you, I wanted to be closer to you and I thought you felt the same about me and I didn’t understand, Harry, I didn’t get it and—“


“Hey, relax for me.” Harry mumbles, his lips grazing tenderly along her cheek.

She takes a deep breath, her fingers fisting the back of his suit tighter in her fists. She rests her chin on the top of his chest, tears still roaming down her face as she lets out an exasperated sigh. Her fingertips trace patterns on his back, her eyes fluttering closed as he pushes some of her hair off of her face, refraining them from sticking to her wet cheeks.

“I didn’t get it,” she whispers, “I was so confused, and when you didn’t answer my calls or texts I thought you didn’t find me important. And I was under no right to be upset about it, because you’re busy and you have priorities. But when I saw you today, I didn’t see you as the Harry I always have, I still can’t tell you what I saw but I wanted every part of you more than I ever have before. But when I saw Kendall I—“

Her cries and words die down when she feels Harry’s tender lips against hers. She’s taken aback at first, and before she has any time to really kiss him back, he’s already pulled away.

“Let me fix this.” He breathes out, “let show you that I only want you.”

His lips press against the side of her mouth, not allowing himself to kiss her the way he wants to until she lets him. They then begin to travel down her neck, along her jaw, around her mouth.

Y/n’s breath is stiff as he does so, embracing the feeling of his mouth against her skin. They’ve only ever kissed a handful of times, none of them being passionate or loving. They’ve shared pecks while saying goodbyes or after confessing their feelings, but none quite like this—none quite like the one anticipating to happen.

His breathing his hard when he continues to kiss along her skin, his fingers moving longly in her hair the more his mouth presses against her.

“Will you let me?” He whispers when his lips are ghosting over hers, “this okay?”

She nods feverishly, hitting the point of desperation when she feels his breath fan over the skin of her face. She’s been needing this for far too long now.

“Yes, please.

His thumb runs over her bottom lip one, two, three times before he finally leans in. Their lips mush together passionately, only breaking apart to move their position before locking again. Their tongues meet in the middle, making the both of them moan at the unfamiliar spark coursing through their veins.

Harry walks toward his bed until Y/n’s knees hit the edge of it, making her back meet the mattress. Their lips haven’t detached once, not daring to break away from the feeling they’ve both been deprived of.

They’re both making out on Harry’s childhood bed, grinding onto each other half naked like two hormonal teenagers. Their clothes thrown across the room, lips swollen from all the suction and nibbling, and hair completely knotted from either of their fingertips, the party below them long forgotten.

“Wait, wait wait wait!” Y/n gasps, lifting herself off of his chest.

Harry’s chest rises and falls rapidly, trying to catch his breath as he looks up at Y/n in confusion. He watches as a smirk lifts from her lips as she peers down at his flushed face, giggling slightly at his complete fucked out appearance.

She notices that his lips remained stained from the red wine—a little faded—but still making her body weak at the sight of it.

“’s the matter?” He croaks.

His voice is thick—an entirely different level of raspy, and Y/n wonders how she’s lived so long without hearing him speak in that way. Between all the kissing, all the touching, all the moaning, his voice has a particular roughness to it that Y/n could feed off of if she had to.

“We shouldn’t do this, right? I mean, we’re about to fuck during your mum’s birthday party. Your entire family and Kendall are downstairs, anybody could walk in at any second, or hear us, and your mum could find that so disrespectful and—“

Her rambling is interrupted by his lips, meeting hers passionately between her words.

There is no way in hell he’s leaving this room tonight. Everything that’s been stagnant between them is finally moving in the right direction, and he can’t find it anywhere in him to walk away from it.

“You think I’m letting you go now?” He whispers, his thumb running along her bottom lip. “I have been waiting for this moment with you since high school, sweetheart.”

His lips reattach to her neck, sucking on spots he hasn’t already left marks on, soaking up every bit of the time he has with her before it’s over. This is the first time they’re going to make love, and he wants to feel and remember every bit of this moment.

“B—But your mum—“ She moans, her fingers nearly tangling at the ends of his hair as she hisses in pleasure from his tongue.

“Every single person downstairs knows about us. This—this happening right now, has been expected to happen since I first brought you home. I guarantee you, nothing will make her more happy than knowing her son and his future wife are finally acting on our feelings instead of pushing them to the side again.”

His words make Y/n blush like no other; her cheeks turning the shade of pink on her dress she wore previously. It’s then he notices just hot fucking pretty she is in pink, how every tint of the color compliments her in ways he can barely wrap his head around.

“Future wife, hm?” She smirks, tapping the pads of her fingers against his bare collarbones.

He kisses her again.

“Thought you knew that, love. Wouldn’t know a single soul I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” His fingers dig into her hips, “’s always been you.“

Y/n pushes Harry’s back against the mattress again, trailing her fingers down his torso. She giggles when his teeth clench at her touch, finding it almost irresistible to embrace the way he responds to her touch so easily.

“Trust me, I always knew.”

Inexorable (1)

So I thought, why not combine that shit and make it a mini-series or something? I really hope you two anons enjoy it! No idea how many parts there will be. We shall see. Gif isn’t mine, cred goes to the owners! 1,560 Words

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader 

Genre: Fluff, a little crack, (Eventual) Smut, Mafia au!

Part 1 | Part 2

Everyone’s heard of blind dates – never of blind marriages, not even in the mafia world. Yet, here you were, walking down the aisle, your hand latched onto your father’s arm, towards a young man you had never seen before. 

You hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak to him, let alone this being the first time you actually got to see his face. There was so much rage bubbling inside you at the moment, but it was all hidden behind a small smile.

Combining two mafia organizations together was a huge deal; something bosses usually agreed on with the exchange of girls, but considering Red Python was one of the most powerful organizations in the country, they wouldn’t want just any girl. They wanted a suitable bride for the heir of said organization.

And your father, being the great, generous man he was, suggested you.

Keep reading

For My Eyes Only

Note: thanks for the request, darlin! I hope it’s not too short! feedback is welcome! .c

Request:  Can you do one where reader shows up to a ball very very beautiful in a high-fashion gown which attracts so much unwanted attention making fiance!Bucky irritated af?

Originally posted by lancefuckrr


Your hands flattened, running down your hips in your red ball gown. Tony had been planning a ball for the team, something he set his sight on after months of non-stop missions. You’d rather get cozy and watch movies with the team, but Tony likes to go above and beyond. You grew to accept his need for parties when he was feeling too anxious. It was his way of winding down and feeling like he was on solid ground again.

A soft sigh fell from your lips as you finished styling your hair and you took a look in the mirror once again. You were nervous to wear such a bold dress. The sleeves and chest area was a floral lace material, with a puffed out waist, cascading down to the floor.

Red was definitely your color, you never failed to look good in it. It also helped that it was one of Bucky’s favorite colors on you. It took you ages to find the perfect dress, and when your eyes landed on this, you knew it was the one you’d be wearing.

Your eyes fell to the shiny diamond ring on your left finger and your stomach fluttered happily. You’ve been engaged to Bucky for a year, having dated for three years prior to his amazing and beautiful proposal. You didn’t think Bucky could be anymore romantic-he was a sucker for sweet stuff-but a proposal at the first place you met was heartwarming.

A knock sounding at your door made you nearly jump out of your heels. “Coming!” You called out as you walked towards your bedroom door, careful not to trip over yourself. You opened it and smiled as you saw Nat and Wanda dressed to the nines with their hair perfectly styled and lips painted.

Nat was wearing a tight black dress and black heels, her hair loosely curled, framing her face in a flattering way. You knew she wasn’t one for going to the extremes with her dresses, and you couldn’t believe how subtle it was, all the while making her look like a queen at the same time.

Wanda wore a red dress that was similar to yours, rhinestones littering the chest area and it was sleeveless, and her hair was neatly straightened. Her heels were black, as well. You had to take it all in for a moment, appreciating the fine detail and of course, how beautiful she looked in it. Your friends were definitely heart breakers.

“Earth to Y/N?” Nat said, waving her hand in front of your face. You giggled and shook your head, coming or of your daze. “Sorry! You guys just look smoking hot!” You blushed and ushered them out into the hallway, shutting the door behind you.

Us? Look at you! You look gorgeous!” Wanda said with a wide smile, her teeth shining. You rolled your eyes playfully and walked down to the elevator.

“Thanks! I just can’t believe Tony would throw a ball.” You shook your head lightly as Nat pressed the up button on the elevator. “The man is rich, he would throw parties like this every night if he could.” Wanda muttered, making you and Nat laugh as you all entered the elevator.

The ride was short and you hooked arms with Nat and Wanda, walking down the hallway until you turned into the doors of Tony’s large dance room. He did not disappoint. Everything was decorated intricately and the music was actually good this time.

Nat scoffed and leaned into your side. “All eyes are on you, of course.” She mumbled with a smirk. Your eyebrows raised slightly and you turned to look at the crowd, seeing the eyes of men looking at you. 

Wanda giggled softly on your other side. “Don’t let Bucky know. That’s a disaster waiting to happen.” She said, laughing a little harder at your mortified expression. You groaned in annoyance and discomfort. 

Nat and Wanda separated from you after seeing their dates-Vision and Bruce- leaving you by the door. You didn’t mind, it gave you time to search for Bucky.

You scanned the dance floor, spotting Sam dancing with two women, twirling them both. His eyes lifted in your direction and you nearly doubled over in laughter as you watched him trip over his feet. 

You could see him faintly word ‘holy shit’ under his breath as he took in your appearance. The two women noticed his eyes on you and they stormed off, leaving Sam to follow after them like a lost puppy.

Your eyes left Sam and you spotted Tony at the bar with Steve and Bucky by his side. A smile formed on your lips as you made your way over there, your heart beating wildly in your chest. Though, as you were walking, you noticed the faint turn of heads, the sense that everyone was watching you creeping up your spine.

Swallowing the nervousness that bubbled in your lower belly, hoping you weren’t actually gaining the attention of every male in the room, you made it to the bar and leaned into Bucky’s arm. “Hey, stranger.” You murmured in his ear. He turned to you and instantly his mouth fell open.

“Doll, you look…” He was rendered speechless, his cheeks burning with blush as he looked at you. He swore you were straight from a fairy tale. The ring on your finger confirming his thoughts that you were really his. You giggled and stood away from him, spinning around so he could look at your dress.

Steve stood to his feet as you turned to face them again. He looked down at you, keeping you at arms length before hugging you. “Y/N, you look gorgeous!” Steve breathed, his blue eyes just as wide as Bucky’s. Tony turned to see what caught their attention after his sentence died down and he gasped upon seeing you.

Tony crossed over to you and grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his lips. “You look stunning.” He said with a smile, kissing the back of your hand. You couldn’t help but blush, easily flustered at any compliment. Bucky scoffed and shoved Tony out of the way. His arm wrapped around your waist and he kissed your head.

“Watch yourself, Tony.” Bucky warned, pulling you closer. You giggled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. He smiled down at you and trailed his finger down your jawline. “She’s beautiful and for my eyes only.” He murmured to you, loud enough for the other two to hear. You hummed in response, smiling as Bucky kissed your nose.

“Sorry, but every man in here has his eyes on her.” Tony stated with a shrug. He always enjoyed getting a rise out of the super soldier. Bucky immediately stood up straighter, his head whipping around to look at the crowd. Tony was right. Nearly every man was looking your way. “Are you serious?” Bucky growled, his jaw clenching.

Bucky instantly wanted to get you out of there. His hold on you had gotten tighter and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Tony snickered at Bucky’s reaction. “You better keep her close, old man. One of these men won’t hesitate to take her away.” With a pat on Bucky’s shoulder, Tony left with a smug grin, leaving him a fuming mess.

“No man is going to steal you away from me.” Bucky said more so to himself than you. You gave him a reassuring smile. “I promise that won’t happen, Bucky.” He sighed heavily, his fingers digging into your side.

You looked out into the crowd and felt rather small after meeting eyes with a man, a slight smirk forming on his lips as he held onto another woman, completely oblivious to his wandering eyes. Steve scoffed and shook his head, having witnessed the action. “I can’t believe men act like this now.” He said, crossing his arms.

Before you knew it, a different man was walking over to the bar, his hand running through his slicked-back hair. You absentmindedly shrunk into Bucky’s side as he walked by you and he smirked down at you.

“Evening, beautiful.” He said with a deep voice, sending a knowing glance to Bucky, nearly challenging him. Your expression matched Steve’s: wide mouth, wide eyes, full of shock. Was he serious?

You felt Bucky start to move towards him, hearing a low growl rumble in his chest. “You fucking-” You gasped and pulled him away quickly, “No, Bucky, don’t.” You pleaded. Steve quickly helped you move Bucky away and left the man at the bar, keeping your eyes on Bucky’s shaking figure. 

“I’ve got him, Steve.” You said softly, watching Steve debate whether staying beside you two or enjoying his evening. He nodded gently and looked at Bucky before walking off, disappearing in the crowd.

“Let’s just dance. Don’t worry about it.” You said softly, caressing Bucky’s hand with your thumb. You pulled Bucky towards you and your ears perked as you heard “Burning Love” come on.

“Lord almighty, I feel my temperature risin’!”

A gasp fell from your lips and Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your reaction. The look on your face instantly calmed him. You were bubbling with laughter and your cheeks nearly split from how wide your smile was as the both of you fell in sync during the song. You had to admit, he hasn’t lost his rhythm.

As the song played through, you and Bucky never missed a beat. It felt perfect and you both had forgotten the unwanted attention from the men in the crowd. You were twirling and dancing around with Bucky, a smile permanently etched on your faces.

Just as the song was about to end, Bucky pulled you to his body, your hands resting on his chest as he dipped you.

You gasped and looked up into his eyes, slithering your arms around his neck. “What are you doing?” You asked, nearly breathless. Bucky leaned in to press a kiss to your lips, making your heart jump in your chest. It was full of passion and need, love and adoration.

Pulling away, Bucky stood you both upright again and you felt lightheaded from the kiss. “That.” He said with a bright smile. You shook your head as you giggled and rested your forehead on his chest, the next song slipping into a soft, slow melody.

Bucky kissed your head as you swayed back and forth. “I love you. You’re mine.” He whispered, his hand resting on the small of your back. You nodded and lifted your head up to look at him. “I’m yours. I love you too, fiance.” You said sweetly. Bucky blushed and lifted your hand to kiss the ring on your finger.

“I love the sound of that.”

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Sunday Morning

Summary: A young man and a young woman run into one another on a Sunday morning at a coffee shop, both of them heartbroken, and rediscover what it means to love and be loved. Bucky x Reader 

 Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this one for a bit. It’s basically the feel-good romance no one ever expected me to write (me included) 

 Words: ~2900

Originally posted by writingandcoffeehouse

Bucky used to love Sunday mornings. They were meant for sleeping in, for curling against the soft, tender body that slept next to him.

They’d had five years of Sunday mornings, of her soft sighs in his ear as she stirred from her sleep, bright green eyes blinking sleepily up at him as he kissed her plush, pink lips. Five years of Sunday mornings, of making coffee in a pair of boxers; of her arms wrapping around him from behind, a soft cheek against his bare back. Five years of Sunday mornings, of sitting at the breakfast bar in their pajamas, her thumb wiping jelly off the corners of his mouth.

Five years of Sunday mornings, wasted.

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Love Inversion Theory

A Peter Parker/Tom Holland Fic

Next!

A/n: I came up with the idea while eating dinner last night and I seemed super original and awesome for some reason. I tried to make it not confusing soooo hopefully we’re good! Maybe a part two if people want it? I’ll probably do another anyways, though. 

Originally posted by koenigreus

Tags

@loeigh@calumbeans@sailorchibimoonunicorn@marvel-fanfiction@sammnipple 


“Inversion can be defined as the reversal of something or as an inverted state of an object.”

Peter watched while you sat with a young boy surrounded by text books and papers. The date you had been on abruptly took halt when you suddenly remembered that you had a tutoring session with your friend Betty Brandt’s little brother.

It was a rare moment for Peter; for once the date had to be paused because of something normal. Something not Spider-Man related. Admittedly, that was better than him exclaiming “Jump into this alley!” for purposes that were not for making out and more for super changes. Those super changes somehow managed to worm their way into the regular routine of a date. Before, when being Spider-Man and being a boyfriend was too hard to balance, you and Peter talked about breaking up. “We both love one another,” you said solemnly, “but we never have time to be together.”

The both of you tried it out; not actually breaking up, but doing a “break up trial.”

You spent a day not talking to each other-no texting or snapchats either-and no hugs between class. Nothing.

And both of you cried by the end of the day.

So that was totally out of the question.

Eventually you guys got the hang of it. Assigning roof tops to meet on during Spider-Man breaks, Skype calls during “Stark Interning” hours courtesy of the teched-up suit, whom Peter for some reason called Karen. You thought that was kind of weird but you rolled with it, choosing to not ask questions you didn’t really want the answers too.

So seriously, neither of you could survive a break up. Hell, you didn’t even like when Peter went to the Academic Decathlon last year, leaving you in New York. “I’m just,” you had said between kisses, “too in love-with you- to break up.”

“I know-” he agreed between kisses, “I feel-the same-way.”

From awkwardly asking you to the homecoming dance freshmen year, to finding out his secret, the connection between you two just grew stronger every day.

“So,” he heard you wrapping up, “does that make more sense?”

The fourth grader nodded his head. Together, you and Peter both walked the boy out where his sister, Betty, was waiting with a car to drive him home. “Still can’t believe she chopped all her hair off,” you said through your teeth while smiling and waving at the pair drive off, hoping she couldn’t tell you were talking about her. “She looked so much better with it long.” You massaged your mouth when the Brandt siblings were out of sight.

“I’m really sorry, Tiger Lily. I can’t believe I forgot about him!” you suddenly exclaimed. Peter held your hands. “Don’t worry about it,” he said assuringly, “it’s not like the day is over. We spent about thirty minutes with tutoring, that’s hardly anything compared to ‘us.’“

You laughed. “‘Us’? How long is ‘us’?” you asked, using light air quotes for emphasis.

“Forever,” Peter smiled. You blushed. “Parker…you have me wrapped around your finger,” you grinned before pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

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A Dress Like That : Peter Parker x Reader

You sigh and smile dreamily at your soon-to-be-stepmother, Pepper Potts. 

Or shall we say, future Mrs. Stark.

“I’d love to wear a dress like that someday.” You say as you walk towards Pepper.

Pepper smiles when she sees you, and says, “I’m sure you will.” She pauses, “And you’ll look much more beautiful.”

You knew that your father was planning on proposing to the redhead for a while now. He definitely took his time overthinking everything. But now, looking at her with her hair expertly done and the dress so exquisite… Everything was worth the wait because everything was perfect.

“Oh, stop that.“ You blush as you playfully shush her. “This day is about you. Don’t try to distract me.“

Pepper turns back to the mirror she’s sitting in front of. “Honestly, I’m glad you helped me convince Tony not to go completely overboard. Thank you for that.”

“I could see that you wanted something simple, but sincere and intimate.” You shrugged, not thinking much of it. “It was nothing, really.“

“Oh dear, Y/N.” She stood and reached out for you, holding your arms. “You understand, and you always give more than anyone asks for.“ Pepper gives you a hug. “And that’s everything.“

You embrace her as well, then you break apart when you hear a knock on the door.

Natasha and Wanda walk in, looking all dolled up as well. “Oh, Pepper, you look gorgeous.” Wanda says as she hands Pepper the prettiest bouquet of flowers.

“Thank you.” Pepper replies, hands shaking slightly as she holds the flowers in her hands.

“Come on, girls.“ Natasha says, pointing at the clock on the dresser. She grins. 

“It’s showtime.“

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VIGILANTE  SENTENCE  STARTERS. 

these are some vigilante starters in the pov of city street people, categorized in the forms of negative, positive and neutral.

NEGATIVE.

❝ This is a job for the police, not a mutant monster. ❞
❝ Why doesn’t she/he let the police handle it! ❞
❝ He/she/they is always getting in the way of police work! ❞
❝ I don’t think we feel protected with a monster on the loose! ❞
❝ That’s no hero. That’s someone looking for attention. ❞
❝ That is no hero! She/he needs to be behind the bars! ❞
❝ This superhero person just gets away with all these crimes! ❞
❝ I don’t like the idea of someone flying about the city. ❞
❝ Why haven’t they captured this person yet? ❞
❝ I think this ’ hero ’ ought to turn themselves in! ❞
❝ You aren’t no hero. You are just another criminal. ❞
❝ Who gave them the right to law into their own hands? ❞
❝ Why is the ’ hero ’ so privileged? ❞
❝ I’ve had enough of this city’s crazy vigilante! ❞
❝ I want justice to be brought and served to this masked person! ❞
❝ I can’t believe people actually think this is a hero. ❞
❝ Oh, so, we can take justice and law into our own hands now? ❞
❝ This ’ hero ’ is a bad influence on our children. ❞
❝ I don’t want my children looking up to some criminal! ❞
❝ This hero has proved that this city is going to fall to anarchy. ❞
❝ Whoever they are, they just need to go back to wherever they came from. ❞ 

POSITIVE.

❝ I think they’re doing some good for our city. ❞
❝ No offense, but, they’re doing a lot more than the police ever did. ❞
❝ Yeah and that superhero has saved my life countless times! ❞
❝ They’re not a criminal, the police like working with them. ❞
❝ I’ll have you know the police would be lost without them. ❞
❝ Hey, I kind of like this new superhero guy/girl. ❞
❝ Our city needs this kind of hero, have you seen the criminals lately? ❞
❝ I think what you’re doing here, superhero, is good. ❞
❝ You only ever see the bad in anything, never the good. ❞
❝ What do you likes o much about this vigilante anyways? ❞
❝ They have saved a lot more lives than anyone else could of saved. ❞
❝ So what? The police have an extra hand with things? It’s good!  ❞
❝ I used to never read the paper, until our superhero came along. ❞
❝ I watch the news everyday just to the masked hero. ❞
❝ You know, they saved my life once. Just remember that. ❞
❝ What’s so bad about breaking minor crimes to stop someone? ❞
❝ I’m not saying they aren’t at fault sometimes but they are good. ❞
❝ This ’ hero ’ is the best thing to ever happen to this city! ❞
❝ I’m kind of a fan of the hero flying about our city. ❞
❝ I feel much safer walker the streets with our new hero at large. ❞
❝ The day this city’s hero leaves, is the day I leave. ❞

NEUTRAL

❝ Anyways, have you seen/heard about our new profound hero? ❞
❝ Why does he/she/they have to be all dressed up for anyway? ❞
❝ I really like the suit they fly around in. It’s nice. ❞
❝ So, is that tights your wearing or what is that? ❞
❝ I just wanted to say, I’ve always wanted you to save my life. ❞
❝ What’s this suit made of? Did you make this yourself? ❞
❝ Hey, just throwing it out, if you ever need a sidekick one day.. ❞
❝ Do me a favor and never save my life ever again! ❞
❝ Don’t you have a life to be saving somewhere? ❞
❝ What is that? What was that? Wait.. is that? A person? ❞
❝ My city has a flying superhero or something, you’ll get used to that. ❞ 
❝ You totally have a crush on that superhero person. ❞
❝ This is kind of like a movie or something, isn’t it? ❞
❝ Why is that superhero person hellbent on hiding their  identity? ❞
❝ Maybe that superhero kills people at night, like serial killer. ❞
❝ Whenever I grow up, I want to be just her/him/they. ❞
❝ Wait, wait.. I just wanted to ask.. could I have your autograph? ❞
❝ How do you ever get used to living with a flying person in the city? ❞
❝ Have you seen the news lately? That superhero is all over it. ❞
❝ I want to follow the superhero, see where they go, find out who they are. ❞
❝ Let’s go on a mission to discover who this masked helper is, yeah? ❞

His || Jungkook || 0.17

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

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Rings

So, I’ve always been fascinated by Harry’s hands. Men’s hands in general, really, but Harry’s hands are so nice and his rings are my downfall. And I noticed quite a while ago that he seems to never wear a ring on the ring finger of his left hand. And after it was brought up by an anon on @inwhichitrytowritesomething ‘s blog, I decided a short little oneshot was in order. This was supposed to be like fluffy and cute, but it took on a mind of it’s own somewhere along the way. I had to cut it off before I got too caught up with it. Otherwise there would’ve been a full blown sex scene and probably multiple parts, and I’m already committed to a multipart fic atm. So anyway, here it is.

Please let me know if you like it and if you’d like me to do any other short little shots like this in the future. I quite like writing them :)


“Oi, what are you doing?” Harry asked, walking into his girlfriend’s flat after a day at the studio. She was sat at the desk in the corner of her living room, laptop open to a Google search of him. “If you want pictures of me, love, all you’ve got to do is ask. Be more than happy to send you a few. I’m open to requests.”

She looked at him over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “I’m not looking at you just for the sake of looking at you, ya dolt. I was doing some research.”

“Research?” he asked, more intrigued now than he was earlier. He sidled up beside her and crouched down so he was more level with the screen where he saw various photos of himself from all sorts of events and occasions. “What research, exactly? I don’t see any reason to these photos,” he admitted.

“Okay, not really research, since I can’t actually get any facts to support a hypothesis, and I don’t have one of those either. I was just curious, really.”

“About what, pet?” He reached his hand out and lovingly palmed at her thigh where she sat on the chair. She was dressed only in a pair of panties and one of his black silk shirts that he’d worn the day before and left at her’s this morning. Her skin was soft and warm and it was comforting to him after a long day trying to figure out the final touches of his album.

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