i would jump in to feel up all these beautiful men

Deleted Kiss Pt. 2

First off, thank you to everyone who shared/reblogged my drabble, means a lot! By popular request, I decided to write a second and final conclusion. I promise it is not as angsty!  Part 1 can be found here 


Everything happened so quickly.

One moment she and Klaus were having a nice time at the pageant then he kisses her and then he’s gone.

Caroline felt sick inside, mainly because she didn’t want him to leave. A big part of her wanted to go after him and apologize for what she said.

She wasn’t angry at him for kissing her, she was angry at herself for wanting him to.

Klaus was so angry and disappointed, he had never looked at her like that before. It was more than a broken ego. She was breaking his heart.

This wasn’t supposed to be difficult. Klaus was everything wrong and bad and obviously not right for her. So why was she having conflicting feelings about him? Why did she want him to kiss her when she’s supposed to be in love with Tyler? Why was she feeling guilt for hurting him and having an urge to go after him and make amends?

She clutched her crumbled Miss Mystic Falls application, that Klaus carelessly threw on the ground, in her hands as she walked back into the mansion to gather her things.

The pageant was thankfully over just a few minutes after Klaus vanished. Caroline wasn’t in a pageant mood anymore and just wanted to go home and yell into her pillow for the rest of the night.

She jumped when she walked into one of the dressing rooms and Elena was there as well.

“God Elena you scared me.” The blonde said breathlessly.

“Sorry, Care.” Elena faintly grinned as she hastily threw her change of clothes and other necessities in a bag.

“Looks like I’m not the only one in a rush to get out of here.” Caroline claimed in a curious tone.

“Well, with Jeremy trying to kill me, Damon being distracting and Stefan hating me, kinda puts a damper on the pageant mood.” Elena explained.

Caroline nervously nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Can I ask you something?”

The brunette answered with a nod.

She gulped. “When did you realize you were falling for Damon?”
Elena’s head shot up.

“I mean, you were so in love with Stefan yet you began falling for someone else. How did you come to that realization after being in denial for so long?”

The question making her want to vomit.

Caroline did not approve at all of Elena’s sudden feelings for Damon, to be honest she loathed the eldest Salvatore brother.
But she was in no position to judge her on having questionable feelings for questionable men. They were in the same boat now and Caroline needed advice without giving herself up.

“You actually want to know about me and Damon?” Elena laughed.

Caroline rolled her eyes. “No details, if there are any, just curious that’s all.”

The brunette sighed, sitting down in one of the chairs at a makeup table.

“It definitely wasn’t planned, for starters. It would have been a lot easier on me and everyone if I shut my feelings for him off. But…I can’t. Stefan was a great boyfriend and great guy who I did love with everything in me, I still love him but I realized I’m not in love with him anymore, if that makes sense.”

- More than you know.

Caroline thought.

She simply nodded. “And that’s where Damon comes in?”

Elena grinned. “Damon, kinda just snuck up on me.” She sighed. “I always felt something for him but becoming a vampire only intensified those already existing feelings. He’s dangerous, manipulative and defiently nothing like Stefan but…he gets me. I can’t explain it but he makes me feel, everything.”

Caroline bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to control her emotions.

“Coming to that realization was hard because I was so worried what people would think, what Stefan would think, but I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t feeling what I felt anymore.”

“Even if you knew you’d possibly lose people close to you?”

Caroline’s biggest fear of opening up about her feelings for Klaus was losing all her friends. No one shunned Elena for liking Damon but she was still losing.

The brunette sighed. “Sometimes, you have to make those leaps. Everyone isn’t going to agree with every choice you make, so why not go for it? I don’t know what, if anything, is happening between Damon and I but I wanna see where it goes. You could be missing out on something great if you don’t take those chances. At least that’s what I’ve been told.” She concluded.

Could she? Be missing out on something great with Klaus? Could he give her everything she needs? They had eternity to figure everything out, Klaus could give her a fulfilled life.

This was too much, she’s already talking about being in a relationship with him and having a possible future.

Coming out about her feelings for Klaus wouldn’t be the same as Elena coming out about Damon. She would get the cold shoulder treatment from everyone and possibly kicked out of the little Scooby gang all together. That’s what scared her more but, she can’t ignore her feelings and she can’t put her life on hold forever.
She liked Klaus and needed to tell him. She owed it to herself and him to see where this could go, her friends had to wait.

Caroline stunned that she finally admitted to herself what she felt for him; step one complete.

“Where are you going?” Elena asked when Caroline abruptly stood to her feet with her bag of clothes in hand.

For a second, she forgot Elena was even there.

“Umm, I just need to do something right now. Don’t wait up for me okay?”

Elena was confused as much as she was curious, but nodded anyways.

In a flash Caroline was already in her car, heart speeding rapidly as she drove to the Mikaelson mansion.


The coward side of her wanted to detour back to her house and forget this ever happened, but the curious side of her knew she had to see this through.

Caroline couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t at least tell Klaus how she felt, and she didn’t want him hating her either. Even though she doubted he did, she’s never seen him that hurt before.

Who would have thought Klaus Mikaelson had a heart?

Her palms were sweaty as her hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. She almost forgot how huge Klaus’ home was until she pulled into the driveway. Granted  she hasn’t been to his mansion since his family’s ball, where he made her feel like the most beautiful gem with just a glance.

- Stop it Caroline!

She cursed herself as she finally parked her car.

This was really happening. There was no turning back now.

Her stomach was in knots, hands a sweaty mess and mind clouded with possibilities.

Caroline rested her head back against the seat, eyes closed and taking deep breaths as she gave herself an inner pep talk.

She was being completely out of character putting herself out there like this.
Well, the worse that could happen would be Klaus rejecting her and wanting nothing to do with her.

A scenario she didn’t even want to entertain.

Before she could second guess herself any longer, Caroline heavily sighed before opening the car door and climbing out.

She could hear her heartbeat thudding through her chest as she made her way towards his front door.

Caroline couldn’t remember the last time she was this nervous for a confrontation; probably freshmen year when she started liking Matt. But this was no pointless high school crush, she was admitting her feelings to Klaus Mikaelson.

The man she’s to see as evil and wrong but has been nothing but lovely to her. Who frustrates her every being because he understood her better than anyone and she couldn’t even deny it. Who terrified her because he’s capable of giving her everything, making her feel everything.

She was tempted to turn around and hop back in her car till she realized she was already standing in front of his door.

- It’s now or never.

Taking a deep breath, the nervous vampire knocked her fist against the door. It didn’t take long for the door to open, revealing the hybrid standing behind it.
He defiently was not in the mood to talk to her, if the emotionless expression on his face was any indicator. But she needed to do this tonight before she goes back home, overthinks it and drops the situation completely.

That would be too easy. Easy wasn’t going to get her to where she wants to go.

Caroline sighed. “Hi.”

Klaus didn’t respond.

His face hard and stiff.

- Really, the silent treatment? Is he twelve?

She thought, now feeling uncomfortable but she refused to leave.

Caroline gulped, looking around. “Wow, I almost forgot how huge this place is. Haven’t been here since your family’s ball. Seems like forever ago…” She softly laughed.

“What do you want, Caroline?” He coldly asked

Even though his question was harsh, at least they weren’t on no speaking terms anymore.

Caroline nibbled on her bottom lip. “I know you might not want to see me right now, but we need to talk.”

Klaus shrugged. “I think we both said all that needed to be said.”

Of course he was going to be difficult. It wouldn’t be Klaus if otherwise.

“Can I come in?”

“No. I don’t think you can.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

She sighed. “Klaus-”

“What do you want from me, Caroline? You made it perfectly clear at the pageant that you want nothing to do with me. I’m a terrible person who has done nothing to help you besides for my own selfish gain, right?” Klaus spat back the hurtful words she threw at him earlier.

Caroline pressed her lips together.

“I’m not playing silly school girl games with you anymore, I’ve had enough. You can’t use me as your punching bag then expect me to still be open arms when it’s convenient for you. I won’t be made as a fool by you any longer. What’s said has been said, nothing more is necessary and we both should just move on now.” He claimed.

That stung.

“You hate me, you still have the Lockwood boy to fawn over, your friends and everything is right in your world again.”

“I don’t hate you.” Caroline abruptly said.

Klaus’ eyes slightly softened at her confession but he quickly brushed it off.
Contrast to popular belief and expectation, Caroline didn’t hate Klaus and never has. Dislike, occasionally, but Caroline didn’t know much about Klaus enough to hate him and he never directly hurt her.

But now she’s falling for each discovery she made about him and it drove her insane. She could hear the hurt in his voice with each word and, oddly enough, it pained her.

Just because Klaus acted like a big bad doesn’t mean he was, not when he’s with Caroline.

“I know I haven’t exactly given you a reason to trust me and I understand you not wanting to talk but, just give me the opportunity to explain myself. Please.”
Klaus raised a curious brow.

He knew Caroline was as stubborn as he was and would never beg. This had to be more serious than he anticipated.

With a heavy sigh, he opened the door wider gesturing for her to walk in.

Caroline entered the mansion, stunned by how its beauty, just like she remembered. Her eyes wandered around from the extended staircase to the ballroom where she and Klaus danced for the first time. Seemed emptier than she before but nonetheless extravagant.

The usual bright chandelier was dim and low.

“See something you like, love?”

His voice sent chills up her spine.

Caroline turned around to face him again. “I’ll just never get over how gorgeous your home is. I’m sure you don’t appreciate it, huh rich boy?” She teased.

“It has its charm.” Klaus said with a small grin.

The tension not completely gone but definently lessened.

She playfully rolled her eyes before they caught the multiple moving boxes in the middle of the dining room.

No wonder it looked so empty.

Caroline furrowed her eyebrows as she turned to him again. “What’s with all the boxes? Are you leaving?” Her question so soft as if she was afraid of his response.

Klaus was thrown off himself. He wasn’t expecting her visit so he definently wasn’t prepared to provide her an explanation for his departure.

 "I am.“ He blankly stated.

Caroline scoffed. “When did you make that decision?”

“Why does it matter to you what I do?”

Okay so he’s still mad, good to know.

She gulped. “Where are you going?”

“New Orleans. I think a nice change in scenery is well overdue, it was never the plan to stay in Mystic Falls permanently in the first place. I only came for Elena but now she’s a vampire and is of no use to me any longer. Hence, there’s nothing else keeping me here anymore.” He coldly explained.

Ouch.

Caroline opened and closed her mouth a few times, thinking of what to say next.
It was hitting close to home that Klaus was packing up his life in Mystic Falls and moving away.

Moving away from her, and he wasn’t shy about making that point clear.

If Caroline didn’t drop by and waited till morning like she first planned, he would already be gone.

Selfish prick.

“So, that’s it? You were just going to leave without saying goodbye?” Caroline asked.

He shrugged. “Wasn’t exactly given the impression that you would care, in your mist of insulting me and whatnot.”  

Caroline threw her hands up in the air. “I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear,
Klaus? I’m sorry, okay!”

Klaus crossed his arms again.

“What I said…” She closed her eyes taking a deep breath. “I didn’t mean it…I-I was just so frustrated!”

“Because of me?”

“Yes! No. I don’t know.” Caroline huffed, pacing in a circle and massaging her temples.

This wasn’t going according to her plan.

She was letting her nerves get the best of her but she couldn’t help it. Klaus and this whole situation made her anxious.

There was no going back now though. She was already here and Klaus was leaving, no more room for nervous breakdowns.

Caroline licked her dry lips before facing Klaus again. “You do frustrate me and you know you do, that’s why you always have that stupid smug look on your face every time we’re together. You do it on purpose and I still let you get to me, knowing your games and it’s frustrating!”

“What is it that I do, exactly?” Klaus innocently asked.

She scoffed. “Like you don’t know.”

“Afraid not, love.” He teasingly answered.

“Stop.” Caroline demanded taking a step back. “Stop doing that. Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about, you always know! Stop doing things like digging up my old Miss Mystic Falls application because you want to get to know me. Stop being charming with your annoying teasing tone and making me forget who you are. Stop making me like you when I’m supposed to hate everything about you.”

Klaus’ eyes widened at her confession.

- Did she just say that?

Caroline didn’t give Klaus a moment to respond, clearly she was on a roll.
Klaus’ demeanor calmed as he stared at her curiously and fondly.

Caroline growled. “Stop looking at me like that. I can’t breathe with you looking at me like that so just stop!”

The hybrid was dumbfounded but also amused by how much of an affect he actually had on the baby vampire.

Caroline was losing it. Her words were jumbled and she looked as if she was in the verge of angrily crying.  

She pressed her lips together and heavily sighed. Running her fingers through her blonde locks attempting to catch her breath.

“I-I don’t understand what I feel for you or why, it’s not right because you’re you and I’m me. We’re on different teams. You’ve done so many awful things Klaus.  Things that shouldn’t be forgivable and I know that when I’m with my friends. But then…when it’s just you and me, all judgment goes away. I don’t forget what you’ve done but I don’t hold it against you either, I don’t want to. I like seeing the good before the bad in people, it’s who I am and underneath all that rage and mayhem there’s a man. The Klaus I see is the Klaus you hide from the world, but I catch myself caring for all sides of you.” She confessed softly.

This was really happening.

If he wasn’t so amazed, he’d pinch himself to prove he wasn’t dreaming this.
“I wasn’t mad at you for kissing me today, I was mad at myself for wanting you to. I was mad that I’m supposed to be in love with Tyler yet I craved your kiss. That’s insane right?” She nervously laughed.

He shook his head. “I don’t think you’re insane at all, love.”

“Ugh, you’re doing it again.” She softly said with a grin that Klaus reciprocated.

“Everyone always expects the best from me, expects me to do the right thing all the time. That was never a problem, until you. Until you were the only one who took the time to get to know me and make sure I was okay. The only person out of all of my supernatural friends to say it’s not a bad thing to embrace that side of myself. You opened my eyes to newer and scarier possibilities that I’m not sure I’m ready for yet, I’m only 18. But I do know that…I like you, Klaus.”

Klaus’ eyes glazed over at Caroline’s admission. His mouth was dry and body still.

“I like you and it has become harder and harder to deny it lately. It scares me that I want you just as much as it scares me that you want me.”

“Caroline-”

She shook her head. “You’re an a thousand year old species who has seen and done everything. It was intimidating having to live up to that. I’m just average, I haven’t even scratched the surface of all that you’ve experienced.”

“I can assure that there’s one thing you’re not Caroline Forbes, and that is average. You never have to be anyone but yourself with me.” He said honestly.

She briefly smiled. Nodding while looking down at her feet briefly.

“Look, Klaus it took a lot for me to admit this, not just for my pride’s sake but because I could possibly lose everyone  I’ve ever cared about. If I wanted to see what could come out of this, I would be sacrificing so much and that’s terrifying. But then there’s the exciting part that makes me feel like it will all be worth it, that you’ll be worth it.” Her eyes hesitantly met his.

Klaus never expected the night to end like this.

After abruptly leaving the pageant, he took Caroline’s rejection to heart. Only one person has managed to break his heart after capturing it so quickly, and that was the baby vampire standing in front of him.

He decided leaving Mystic Falls was best when he assumed all hope was lost with Caroline, not to mention this town was growing more unappealing by the second.

Never imagining she’d show up an hour later on his doorstep confessing her hidden feelings for him. Feelings he knew were there but was growing impatient with her delay of realizing it herself.

Yet here she was.

“I should go…”

Klaus was snapped out his thoughts from Caroline’s voice.
One blink and she was already at the door.

He quickly grabbed her arm, spinning her around so they were face to face again.

Caroline’s breath hitched as they were nose to nose, her back pressed against the door as his chest was inches from touching hers.

Klaus trapped her body between his and the door, his hands on the door and both sides of her head.

They heavily gazed into each other’s blue eyes.

Caroline was at a loss of words, saying everything she needed to already. What more could he say now?

“Ask me to say.” He softly demanded.

Well, there’s that.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What? Klaus-”

“Ask me to stay, Caroline.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Sweetheart, you completely underestimate the affect you have on me.” Klaus grinned.

She briefly grinned back.

“You don’t realize how long I’ve waited for you to say everything you just said. To finally be honest with yourself, with me. The only reason I decided to stay in this toxic town after everything was you. I only decided to leave when I thought all hope was lost.” He confessed.

Klaus has said a lot of heavy confessions to her in the past, she wasn’t sure she could handle another one after what she just delivered to him.

“From the moment I met you, I was intrigued by the courageous baby vampire who wanted to live. Who shot down my every advance, which only made me desire for you more.”

“So if I wasn’t a bitch to you, you would have gotten the hint?” Caroline amusingly asked, much to Klaus’ dismay but he chuckled.

“It would take a lot for me to give up on you, Caroline Forbes. Like, saying you want nothing to do with me for starters.” Klaus teased back.

She laughed, sniffling. “You know I didn’t mean that, right?”

“I know.” Klaus nodded.

Caroline relaxed into his touch as his knuckles brushed against her soft cheek. Why was this so calming?

Klaus’ eyes burning through her skin with admiration, Caroline could feel the blush creeping up her face.

His hand cupped the side of her face, his eyes searching for an answer in hers.
“Ask me to stay.”

The coolness of his breath kissing her skin sent welcoming chills throughout her body.

It felt weird asking that of him, even if she wanted him to stay. That’d be selfish of her, oh god she was already being selfless with Klaus.

She’s in deep already.

“Klaus-” Caroline sighed.

“Ask me to stay.” He asked again.

The blonde nibbled on her bottom lip briefly. “You can’t kiss me again.”

He grins, sliding a strand of hair out her face. “Ask me to stay, Caroline.” Ignoring her plea.

Caroline hoped that might distract him but Klaus is nothing but persistent. Oddly, that was something she secretly liked about  him. A guilty pleasure of hers.
She would love to be kissed by him again, a real kiss where they both enjoyed it.

This was becoming too real too fast.

If she asked him to stay, that would mean they would give this a chance. That meant Caroline would be leaping into the unknown of Klaus Mikaelson.
Was she ready for all that he was and could give her?

Klaus felt so infinite. There was no going back to average after him. He was 1000 years old who has seen and done almost everything. That was as intimidating as it was thrilling. All he could show her, new experiences for her to live, worlds he can take her to and heights she never knew were possible. But there were also possibilities and experiences she could show him as well.
Could she handle him ruining her in the best way?

Caroline’s body was shaking, mind reeling and fingers fidgeting. She wanted him here, she wanted to see this through.
It was all or nothing.

Caroline’s lips trembled before she spoke. “Stay.”

Her voice so soft if Klaus didn’t have supernatural hearing, he wouldn’t have heard her.

Klaus softly exhaled in relief.

He knew this wasn’t easy for her, he didn’t want it to be. This was a decision she needed to take seriously, given all that she would giving up; though it was ridiculous she felt she couldn’t just be with her so called friends.
He wanted to be the one who challenged her and made her want more. He could give her more, everything she wants and needs.

Klaus wanted to be it for Caroline and vice versa.

A sweet grin crossed his face as he stared down at the nervous blonde vampire.
She was so damn beautiful even with tearful puffy eyes and red cheeks. He wish he could capture this moment on paper; the night she chose him.

He cleared his throat, feeling a slight knot in his throat. “Well, now that we covered that part, let’s discuss what that means hm?” Klaus smirked.

Caroline nodded with a grin. “What it means is that you’re not selling this beautiful home before you have another party.”

Klaus rolled his eyes making Caroline laugh.

“Caroline…”

She placed her hand on top of one of his that was on the side of her face. “I’m only teasing. I do want to see where this could go, I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself with that confession if I wasn’t serious. No more games, no more denial I promise. I’m giving you a chance so use it wisely, got it?”

“You know how sexy you sound ordering me around? If it were anyone else I would have dragged their heart across the floor by now.” Klaus stated with a smile..

“I guess I should I feel pretty special, huh?” She teased.

“Always.”

Caroline playfully swatted him against his chest.

Klaus caught her hand and pulled her closer so their breaths brushed each other’s lips.

She couldn’t deny that her eyes wandered down to his tempting red lips. Only experiencing the taste of his lips once and she was already fantasizing about them.

The hybrid shamelessly expressed his want for her through his eyes and Caroline has never felt so desired in her life.

“Caroline…”

“Hmm?” She hummed. Dragging her eyes back up to his face.

“Can I kiss you now?”

It was almost laughable how shy Klaus seemed in this moment.

The usual smugness was gone. He was acting like a teenage boy asking to kiss a girl after their first date. It was odd but incredibly adorable, even though he wouldn’t think so if she told him.

Blood rushed from her head to her core, imagining tasting his lips again. The sinful lips that took her breath away with just a surprise peck.

This kiss wouldn’t be a quick surprise though, it would be lasting which only made Caroline more eager.

She leaned into him more so they were now chest to chest and her eyes stuck on his lips.

Caroline nibbled on her bottom lip, nodding. “Please.”

Her tone much more breathless than she anticipated but she didn’t have time to dwell on that as Klaus’ mouth already molded against hers.

He was urgent and demanding but so damn good.

She has imagined kissing Klaus before, as awful as that might sound given that she’s been in a relationship, but this surpassed her expectations. Their mouths gracefully moving together as if they’ve kissed on a regular basis.

Caroline gasped when Klaus bit her bottom lip then probing his tongue into her mouth. They both softly moaned into the exchange, feeling the rush of being together like this

Caroline felt as if she was floating on a cloud. Her mind hazy as his tongue tasted the inside of her mouth, as her own tongue clashed with his while indulging in the moment.

It was as if their mouths were made for each other’s.

Klaus could still taste the faintness of champagne lingering on her pink lips. So sweet and perfect.

He grabbed her by the waist and pressed her back against the front door. His hands traveling from her waist down to her hips. He couldn’t get enough, feeling her and touching her and the surreal thought that she was actually allowing him to do so.

Of all the times he’s imagined this moment, he didn’t think it would happen so soon. Caroline surprised him and he wasn’t a man who was easily surprised.
She deserved to be worshipped. He wanted to be the one to show her how beautiful she actually is.

Caroline tugged on his hair; he hadn’t even realized she wrapped her arms around his neck. She tilted his head to seek a better angle, deeply moaning into another kiss.

He let her take control for awhile after all, he did like a woman who knew what she wanted  and Caroline Forbes wanted him.

Their hips ground into each other’s roughly, making Klaus groan in her mouth at the contact of their clothed centers making contact.

“God Klaus…” Caroline moaned, breaking their heated kiss and leaning her head back against the door.

Klaus nearly came on the spot just from hearing her moan his name. He stared with hungry and lustful eyes.

Her porcelain neck on display for him. The hybrid took that as an invitation to lower his head towards the flesh.

Caroline didn’t mean to let his name slip from her lips, stroking his ego even more, but she couldn’t hold it in. His kisses were hypnotizing and his hips were sinful. Caroline hissed when she felt his teeth scrape her neck but contently sighed when his tongue swept over the wound.

He was careful not to let his venomous fangs drop. They needed to work up to blood sharing first.

She bit down on her lip with closed lids, simply indulging in the pleasurable feel of him exploring her neck with licks and kisses.

Klaus’ hips continued to move up into hers which only added to the pleasure.

Caroline’s fingers snaked into his curls, keeping his face as close as possible.

“You’re so beautiful.” Klaus whispered against her collarbone.

Caroline grinned to herself at his compliment, moving her core against his rhythmically which elicited a groan from the hybrid.

She was wondering how a simple kiss resulted in them practically dry humping against Klaus’ front door.

This felt too damn good to be considered wrong. Caroline couldn’t remember the last time she was so enthused from just making out with someone. She’s never felt this wanted and she’s never wanted someone so much.

But as amazing as this felt, she knew if they didn’t stop then they would have sex. Not that Caroline was opposed but, not like this. Not when she still has a lot on her mind, lose ends to mend and things to figure out; like how to explain all of this to Tyler.

She wasn’t looking forward to that confrontation but it was something that had to be done. She wanted everything to be settled with her friends before she moved forward with Klaus.

Klaus would be a new beginning, a fresh start.

When he cupped her breasts through her dress, Caroline knew they needed to stop.

No matter how burning his large hands felt over just her clothes.

With one more desperate moan as he began kneading her mounds, Caroline tugged on his hair to lift his head up from her neck so they were now face to face again. Her hands pressed against his chest to create space between their bodies. Both breathless and flustered.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Klaus asked with concern in his tone, lowering his hands.

She nodded, liking the fact that he was more concerned about her well being than his hard on.

“Yeah. Nothing is wrong at all, trust me.” Caroline smiled, reassuring him that he did nothing wrong.

“This is really, really nice…” She softly confessed, nibbling on her lip.

“If you keep doing that, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” He mused, cupping one side of her face with one hand, stroking her cheek lightly with the pad of his thumb.

She sighed, trying not to get lost in him again. “I’m totally going to regret saying this but, I think we should slow down a little…for now.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow. “I got the impression you were quite enjoying yourself, love.” He smirked.

Caroline blushed. “I was, a lot actually. I’m not saying I don’t want to because I obviously do…”

“Hmm…” Klaus smuggly hummed, brushing his nose against hers.

She fought back a moan. “But I still have some things to figure out and explaining to do. And you should know that I’m technically still with Tyler, we didn’t really break up.”

“I know.” Klaus sighed.

She furrowed her brows. “How?”

He grinned. “I’ve been around for a thousand years Caroline you think I can’t differentiate between a real and fake break up? Not to mention, the Lockwood boy has very little talents as is and being a convincing actor isn’t one of them.”

“Hey! Don’t be mean.” She scolded, not being able to hold back a small laugh.
Klaus pulled her by the waist so they were chest to chest. His arms safely wrapped around her body, leaving a sweet kiss on her nose and cheek.
Caroline smiled at the affection, never taking Klaus Mikaelson for the gentle type.

“Take all the time you need. I waited this long just to kiss you, I can wait a little longer for the whole thing.” He began. “When you’re with me, if you choose so, I want it to be something you want. I want to be who you want, and for you not to be ashamed or scared about it. Not worrying about Elena, Tyler or anyone else.”

Reality was hitting harder and harder.

“And just know, that if you do decide to give us a real chance, I’ll never let you go.”

Caroline sucked in a breath at Klaus’ promise.

Suddenly she wanted to take back what she said about waiting.

Klaus was overwhelming and extreme but he was exactly what she needed.

“Okay.” Caroline agreed, casually pecking his lips which stunned them both.

They were already acting like a couple who have been together for years.
It was almost scary how comfortable he made her feel.

Klaus reciprocated the kiss, gradually deepening it with his tongue.

Caroline allowed herself to enjoy it for awhile. Moans swallowed by his mouth, her hands brushing over his stubble cheeks as they cuffed both sides of his face, and her body already craving to be destroyed by his.

She planted one more kiss on his lips before leaning back with her hands still on his face. “You’re not making this easy.”

“I didn’t intend to.” Klaus smirked, grabbing one of her hands and kissing the palm.

Caroline rolled her eyes. “I really should go.”

Klaus nodded. “May I at least drive you home?” He offered.

They were both aware that Caroline drove herself to Klaus’ place but she didn’t question it. She wanted to be with him as much as she could tonight, who knows when they’ll have time alone after she breaks the news to her friends and Tyler.
But she was ready for that, at least she thinks.

This evening took such a huge turn. From Klaus storming off to Caroline storming after him to heartfelt confessions to passionate make out sessions.
One surprise kiss literally changed everything for the both of them and Caroline couldn’t be more excited.

“Okay, but no funny business.” Caroline said, poking her finger towards him.

He chuckled, putting his hands up in defense.“No funny business.”

She pressed her lips into a wide grin as Klaus reached behind her to open the door, leading her out the mansion and closing the door behind him. 


You can also find this drable and my other work on my fanfiction account (:

look at me - i will never pass for a perfect bride

so i know i already made a retold mulan post but i just LOVE MULAN SO MUCH so here’s another

in the original myth mulan isn’t really a clumsy fish out of water. she’s strong and smart and the reason she goes to war is because she’s the most qualified person in her family to fight, regardless of gender.

so how about this: mulan’s a fighter. she knows exactly who she is, like in the original myth, she’s knows how to be the blossoming flower and the great stone dragon. she’s still mulan though, so she still doesn’t memorize the silly ways she’s supposed to be a good wife and has little patience for appearing graceful while pouring tea. she’s innovative and courageous and beautiful, but no one is under any illusions about what kind of wife she’ll be.

and the matchmaker is the matchmaker for the li family as well, for this great big part of china. and general li wants his son to be married before he goes off to war, wants his son to have a reason to fight to live, like a wife waiting for him. and the matchmaker reads the stars and the tea leaves and the astrology charts, and no matter what all the signs point to one thing: the honorable li shang is destined to marry the insolent, arrogant fa mulan.

the matchmaker isn’t going to let that happen, she refuses to be responsible for that disaster of a wedding. so she sends her most beautiful girls, the ones that are obedient and quiet and know their roles, the ones that are eager to marry into the li family.

and each of them are entertained and met and sent back. shang is many things, but smooth isn’t one of them, he has nothing to say to these quiet girls who smile at him, feels large and awkward around their polite smiles. so he and his father go to the matchmaker’s village, shang reluctantly and his father to demand she stops messing with them and provides a proper bride.

it’s on the day that mulan and the other girls are parading in the street. shang sees a girl - mulan - hurry into the end of the line, jumping over a bench and darting around a careening wagon to get there, and stifles a laugh.

then there’s no reason to laugh at all, because a group of huns have decided that this village is in their way, and attack.

everyone scatters, women hide, children hide, and most of the men do too. shang and his father join the fight with some of the other men who hadn’t hid, and these men are starved, clearly not with shan yu, so even though they’re outnumbered they’ll likely win.

shang sees a hun go to attack the girl he’d seen earlier, the girl for whatever reason hadn’t run and hid. the hun raises a sword above his head to strike her down, and shang is so sure he’s about to see this pretty girl lose her head.

but she doesn’t. instead she rolls out of the way, and pops up, headbutting him in the stomach. she takes his sword from his now-slack grip and plunges it into his chest. without hesitation or pause the girl joins the fight, swinging the sword expertly and cutting down every man who stands against her. soon they’re fighting back to back, and shang has never felt more in sync with another person. she cuts off the head of the last hun, and shang has never seen anyone more beautiful than this girl, dress ripped and make up smudged and covered in blood that isn’t hers.

“mulan,” one of the other girls says, peaking out of a store front, “is it over?”

the girl, mulan, looks out over the dozen dead men and says, grimly, “it’s barely begun.” she searches the crowd, finding and old man and yelling, “gather the bodies, we’ll burn that at dusk outside of the village. everyone else,” her eyes sweep across the gathered people, and shang is struck by the fact that this girl isn’t well liked. there’s anger and disapproval in many of the faces, but they’re listening. these people don’t like her. but they do trust her. “let’s clean this all up. these were bandits, not soldiers. there’s nothing more to fear.”

“what if there are more?” the other girl asks, arms wrapped around herself.

mulan raises her stolen sword and says, “then i will slice them to ribbons. this is our village, and this is our country. any who would try to take it from us - from me - will suffer the consequences.”

and it shouldn’t be comforting, hearing words of violence from this young girl, yet everyone around them relaxes, and gets moving, gather the bodies and tending the wounded.

“who are you?” his father asks, and someone who doesn’t know him might think he was angry, but shang can tell he’s impressed.

mulan turns to them and bows, “my apologies. i am fa mulan, daughter of fa zhou. thank you for helping us.” she stands, and shang meets her eyes for the first time.

he swallows, and blurts out, “you - you fight good.”

his father coughs to hide his laughter, but mulan’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “thank you. you do as well.”

and they just keep standing there smiling at each other until his father claps his hands and is like okay - they’ll have to report this to the emperor, no time to dawdle, have to go now.

so they take their leave, and shang thinks this is the last time he’ll see fa mulan.

except there’s still the draft, and this time mulan doesn’t take no for an answer, won’t hear of it. her father is injured and old and she is young and fit to fight. she will go in his place.

so she arrives at the camp, prepared to pretend and lie - except she goes to meet her commanding officer and it’s him, that boy who had fought with her. shang’s eyes widen, but they’re in front of too many people. he can see it on her face, her fear, and she hadn’t shown any fear when she was facing down over a dozen huns, but she does now. so he makes his choice and says nothing, pretends he buys her story.

she tracks him down that night and demands an explanation. he says this war is too important to kill good warriors, whatever gender they are. he swears to keep her secret. mulan is his best soldier from the beginning, and means to treat her like anyone else, but it’s impossible. she isn’t like anyone else, is strong and smarter and braver than them. they argue tactics, and she’s the only one who can give him a workout in hand to hand, and he doesn’t have trouble finding his words with her. he finds himself falling in love with her, but doesn’t say anything. she’s not here for love, she’s here for a war. he vows to say something if they survive this, but it’s unlikely that will happen.

they head to the front earlier. they get there in time to provide back up for his father and his army, and it’s a loss but not a slaughter. his father is too distracted to notice ping is the girl from the village. all he knows is this soldier had led the second wave of attacks, and it was thanks to her any of them were alive at all. they prevent half of the huns from getting through the pass, but that’s still an army heading for the imperial city. the general is injured, so mulan and shang lead the army after him.

they find him at the mountain, and just like before mulan uses the cannon to destroy the army. she knew it would spell their death, but it was worth it, for her people, for her country, for her family. this time it’s shang that won’t accept her death, that tries to drag her unconscious body to safety. only he fails, and mulan becomes buried under the snow.

they return to the city, and shang is besides himself - the woman he loves is dead, she saved them all and she’s gone, and he’ll never recover from this. only he can’t tell his father this, their friends. they think he mourns a friend, not the woman he wanted to make his wife.

except mulan survives, and sees the other huns as well. only she kills them there before they can get to the city, and decides this is for the best. fa ping dies honorably in battle, and fa mulan is free to return home to her family.

so general li decides that it’s time to go to that matchmaker again, and demand she stop playing games. the matchmaker confesses that she thought the bride was unsuitable, and the general demands she send her anyway.

so mulan has barely had the chance to settle back home when the matchmaker shows up at her door saying she’s sending her to see a potential husband, but not who. so mulan shows up all made up to li household and shang drags himself into the room, already resigned to a loveless marriage, when they see each other. “mulan?” he demands, and his father is all pleased because it’s the fighting girl from the village.

but then his son starts crying and they run to each other. shang picks her up in his arms and she clings to him, and shang is babbling about how he thought she was dead, and mulan is so overjoyed that she’s with shang, and shang wants her, that she kisses him without explaining.

except now shang’s father demands an explanation. so they give it to him, the whole story comes tumbling out, and he stares hard at her, and remembers her as ping, the brave soldier that had saved them all. he’s not upset - he ecstatic. he goes to the emperor and tells him everything, and the emperor officially offers mulan an officer position in the army. she accepts, as long as shang is by her side. shang seconds this, and they set in motion the plans for the wedding.

fa mulan and li shang get married and lead armies and live happily ever after, just like the stars intended.


read more of my retold fairytales here

episode one :: Yuuri Katsuki is the most beautiful disaster that Victor has ever met in his entire life, and Victor has built his empire on beautiful disasters.



Victor isn’t sure he knows what he’s doing anymore by the time casting rolls around for season 22 of The Bachelor.  Okay, he knows what he’s doing, but it’s all autopilot.  He’s got a dossier of Chip Vanderbones and Tad Hardbeefs to look at, but is almost resigned enough to just give into Lilia and Yakov’s suggestion to cast Georgi Popovich, notorious histrionic Bachelorette season 10 runner-up, as this season’s lead out of sheer notgivingafuckness.  At this point Victor isn’t even sure whether he really wants to be in this game at all anymore, but what the hell else he would do besides sleep for a thousand years if he retired before thirty?  

And then Phichit Chulanont comes into his office to distract him during a conference call with Yakov to tell him a story about his friend who just crashed and burned at the Figure Skating Grand Prix Finals, and everything click click clicks into place: redemption narrative.  Twenty young men are going for the gold, but only one can win the heart of Yuuri Katsuki– he can hear the promos, see the character arcs unfold, and the narratives rush through him like they’ve always lived inside him and it feels–exciting.  

“Phichit,” Victor says suddenly, interrupting Phichit and grabbing him from across his desk.  “We have to get him.  He’s our next bachelor.”

“Oh my God,” Phichit replies, eyes widening, and then again, “Oh my God.

“Do you think you could get him?” Victor asks.  He’s seeing figure skating dates, thematic destination shoots in Chile and Finland and Iceland, “The Bachelor: Love on Ice” title screen flashing over two champagne glasses on the lip of an outdoor hot tub.  

“Do I think I can get him,” Phichit repeats dismissively, looking the closest to offended that Victor has ever seen him.  “What do you think you hired me for, Nikiforov.”

Keep reading

A brazen challenge

Synopsis: Imagine admitting to Loki that you never manage to orgasm when are with men, making him smirk mischievously in response.

“Is that a challenge, my dear?”

So for the next couple of hours, he magically locks the two of you in your room and makes it a challenge as to how many times he can make you cum in a row. He pleasures you with his soft hands, his skilled and long fingers and his silver tongue before he fucks you roughly.

Pairing: Loki x Reader
Rating: M
Chapter: 1/1 (Oneshot)
Words: 4040
Warnings: smut. a lot of smut.

Keep reading

smile ✦ peter parker

summary : as the adopted daughter of none other than tony stark, you have a myriad of responsibilities. babysitting peter parker probably wasn’t supposed to be one of them. not that you’re complaining.

word count : 4.7k (also known as the longest thing I’ve ever written)

author’s note : ur adopted b/c not everyone is white and i don’t want anyone to feel excluded from reading this due to the fact tony is white (and yes ik there are interracial couples i just want everyone to feel included i want to make sure whoever wants to read this can without feeling weird about it b/c i know it is something that bothers people in the fanfic community okay bye enjoy my loves.)

   Tony Stark was a lot of things to a lot of people. He was the billionaire, he was the genius, the philanthropist, and the notorious playboy in his younger years. Most notably, however, was that he was Iron Man. He was marveled at by the entire world, him and the group of heroes that stood beside him; the Avengers, as they called themselves. To you, however, he was your father. 

   A terribly overprotective one, at that. 

  Of course, this was only to be expected of a father, even a foster one, but the lengths the man went to in order to keep his only daughter out of whatever he deemed trouble were rather extensive. You rarely ever left the Avengers tower, and if you did you were accompanied by a team of people you could only describe as rip off Secret Service men. Sometimes, Natasha would replace them, or Steve, but that was a rare occurrence. You were homeschooled by the best tutors his money could pay for- this particular move was less about refining your education and more about keeping you away from any boy in the five boroughs. 

   You chose to spend majority of your time reading in your room and training, always wary of anyone who approached you about being a friend. Your surname meant everything to people, especially the girls that wandered around Manhattan desperate to become the bestie of the daughter of the richest man in New York. You loved your dad with all your heart, but the stigma that ran with the Stark name would never stop irritating you. 

   That, and the impromptu plans he threw at you on a regular basis. 

   “Miss Stark, your father is requesting access to your room. He knows you hate it when he barges in.” Vision drifted into your room without warning, making you jump. You yanked your earbuds out of your ears, giving him a look. 

   “I hate when anyone barges in, Vision. That includes you, too.” You pushed your chair away from your desk, placing your pen on the desk and shutting your notebook. “Tell him he can come in if he lets me become an Avenger.” You raised your voice at this, knowing he would hear you. 

   “He says that he’ll consider it if you let him in.” 

   You raised your eyebrows. “Touché.” You motioned for the door to open, and your father walked into the room, immediately taking his pristinely polished shoes off and lying down on your bed. You stared at him.“Dad, it’s not cool to wear sunglasses inside. You look lame.” 

   Tony Stark rolled his eyes at you. “It’s called a look, sweetheart.” You laughed, pretending to nod in agreement. He placed his hands behind his head as you spun your chair back around to your desk. “What are you working on?” 

   “Something for Bruce,” you muttered, pen cap between your teeth as you continued to jot down important points from his numerous lab reports. You were going to have to hand in a full analysis of his findings for your end of term science paper, and he was more than willing to aid you. “Science report.” 

   “My daughter, beautiful and intelligent, my flesh and blood,” Tony declared proudly. 

   “Dad, I love you to the death, but I’m still not your biological kid,” you smiled all the same, though, and he knew behind the tough exterior you were happy to hear his expressions of admiration. 

    “Who needs a biological kid when I’ve got this great, wonderful adopted one right in front of me.” 

   Not looking up from your notebook, you said, “You’re really laying it on thick today. I’m all of those things, obviously, but I know you want something. So, what is it?” You paused, then said, “Thank you, by the way.” 

   “You sure we’re not related?” He sat back up, clasping his hands together. “What do you say about Germany?” 

   “Nice enough place I guess, interesting history, why?” 

   “I kind of need you to go there for two weeks with me.” 

   With a groan, you dropped your pen and held your face in your hands. “Another surprise trip? Dad, I have school. I have homework! Do you see this?” You held up the thick stack of reports from Banner’s lab, waving them around. “This is gonna be, like, my life’s work.” 

   Tony shook his head. “Kids these days and their homework. Seriously. When I was at school I would have taken any opportunity to shirk my responsibilities.” 

  “You did do that.”

    He waved his hand. “Technicalities. Anyway, as you know the Avengers have been disassembled. Sokovia Accords and all that bullshit. I assume you’ve been keeping up?” 

   “Hard not to.” It was true. Anything in the news was about the great split of the infamous team, Captain America vs Iron Man. It was impossible to turn on the television without hearing about it. And, considering you lived underneath the same roof as half of them, it was quite literally not an option to be ignorant to what was going on. 

   “Good,” he grinned proudly again. If there was one emotion that the man felt whenever he was around, it was proud. Nearly everything you did made him beam with pride, and if you had been placed into an actual high school, there was no doubt in his mind that the person at the top of every single class would be you. You excelled no matter the circumstances. “So, to sum up, there’s gonna be a big showdown in Germany. Western style, naturally. Guns blazing and everything.” 

   Your eyes lit up and you nearly flew out of your chair, rushing over to him. “Oh my god, are you finally gonna let me fight? You’ve seen my training, right? I’m getting so good. I’m like, practically Natasha level good. She’s been showing me that move where I can snap people’s necks with my thighs and-” 

   “First of all, your thighs are not going around anyone’s neck, so jot that down,” he interrupted. Your enthusiasm visibly deflated. “I need you to kind of watch over this kid who’s coming with us. He’s from Queens. You love Queens.” 

   “You’re making me babysit?” You flopped down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. “C’mon, dad, I’m sixteen. That’s practically an adult. I think I should be allowed to fight this time. I’m Avenger worthy.” 

   “Practically an adult is not the same as literally an adult, as in over eighteen.” You groaned again. “Don’t call it babysitting, anyway. He’s your age. Well, he’s a few months younger, but that doesn’t matter. Just call it… hanging out with a good kid that’s fighting for your dear old dad and making sure he doesn’t get into trouble in Germany or annoy Happy too much.” He patted your knee, standing up. “We leave in the morning, kiddo, so pack up.” 

   “How come he gets to fight if he’s younger than I am?” 

   “’Cause he’s not my daughter. Goodnight, light of my life.” He kissed your forehead before leaving, giving you another encouraging smile.

   “Goodnight, pain my ass,” you grumbled as he left. He popped back in, a stern expression on his face. “If I watch your new protégée can I become an Avenger?” Tony rubbed a hand over his eyes. Teenage girls were exhausting. 

   “We’ll talk about it.”


   You’re sitting at your breakfast table with suitcases piled next to you when Peter Parker strolls into your life with happiness in his every footstep because he is just so, so glad to be there. You’re spooning cereal into your mouth when he sits down directly across from you, a video camera cupped in his soft looking hands and the little red button clicked on, meaning that he is recording you. You place your spoon back into the bowl of milk that is dusted with cinnamon sugar from the Cinnamon Toast Crunch you’ve been eating for the past ten minutes. 

   “Do you mind?” 

   “Mind what?” He asked, peeking up from behind his camera. You gestured toward it, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. 

   “The camera. I’m kind of still in the middle of eating breakfast in my pajamas,” you leaned forward, switching it off. “You must be the Spider-Boy.” The chestnut haired boy feels a blush creeping up his neck and settling along his cheekbones when you say that. 

   “Oh, did Mr. Stark tell you that?” He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly. “Um, it’s Spider-Man, actually.” He mumbled the man part, knowing fully well that he didn’t look like much of a man in the eyes of anyone, his eyes casting down as he fidgeted with the strap on his camera. 

   “Oh good,” you nodded. You took another spoonful of cereal. “I like that better. Nicer ring to it.” You grabbed your box of sugary breakfast and pushed it toward him, an offering. 

   “Huh?” He was a bit dazed. He stared at the box in front of him and then realized he had been doing that for far too long of a time to be considered normal. “Oh, right, um, sure, thanks!” He opened the box and took a handful, shoving it in his mouth. You kept eating your cereal, silently staring at the bowl and willing yourself not to laugh at the boy in front of you. With all his nerves, he was still a bundle of energy and cheerfulness, and, well, let’s face it, he was sort of adorable. “So, you think my name’s cool?” He tried to sound suave, charming, as he said it, tried to smirk at you, but he stopped when he realized that he looked stupid.

   You gave him a half smile. “It’s pretty good.” His face positively lit up with happiness to be taken seriously, and you knew the feeling too well. You stuck out your hand. “Oh, forgot to introduce myself-” 

  “Y/N Stark, adopted daughter of Mr. Stark, probably the smartest girl in all of New York and, uh, correct if I’m wrong but… Black Widow’s best student as well as Bruce Banner’s apprentice.” 

   You gaped at him. The blush he had been sporting crept up to his ears and made his nose turn the shade of a strawberry. “Well, uh, yeah,” you said, flustered. “Should I creeped out or flattered?” 

   “Flattered, please.” The genuine worry in his eyes as he leaned forward made you laugh. He had an endearing personality. 

   “Flattered it is.” You watched the slow sigh of relief leave his mouth, his hands flying up the mess of hair atop his head and fixing it distractedly. Your dad walked into the room, and Peter practically fell out of his chair trying to stand up and seem presentable. Your slouch was indicative that you didn’t care much. He was just your dad. “Morning, pops,” you slid the box over his way.  

   He frowned at it.” Y/N, that stuff is crap. I don’t know why you eat it.” 

   “Wanda and I like it,” you said defensively, a slip of the tongue. You knew your dad was going to get annoyed at the mention of the Scarlet Witch, who had evaded and ignored his attempts at keeping her powers under control. “It’s good. High quality. Right, Peter?” You whipped your head toward him. 

   He felt his heart give a little tug. He grabbed the box out of your hand and shoved more cereal in his mouth, the cinnamon sugar sticking to his lips. “Yeah, Mr. Stark. Best stuff ever,” he said through a mouthful of it. Tony gave them an amused glance, picking up your two heaviest suitcases and beckoning you both to the landing strip. Peter swallowed his food. 

   He didn’t even like Cinnamon Toast Crunch that much. He was just thrilled that you knew his real name.


   Everything about this kid was infuriatingly dorky in the cutest way possible. You came to this conclusion as you boarded the jet with ease, sitting in your usual spot by the window and greeting Happy with your typical friendly smile and idle chitchat. Peter stumbled onto it with awe written across his features as he stared around the place, touching nearly everything much to Happy’s dismay. 

   “Haven’t you been on a plane before?” The man asked, growing irritated with the way the kid was filming everything. You saw Peter zoom in on Happy’s face and grinned out your window. 

   “Nope, never!” Peter exclaimed, his video camera still in front of him as he captured every detail of his trip. 

   “Well, sit down so we can take off,” Happy said gruffly, grabbing Peter’s shoulders and forcefully placing him into a seat. 

  Peter sat still for a moment, then hopped over to the seat next to you. He placed his camera in front of him on the tray table. “Y/N, smile for the camera. I’m recording.” You looked at him, then turned to the camera and gave it a deadpan stare. You even threw in a slow blink. “Good enough,” he shrugged. He kept it recording as he shifted in his seat so that his entire body was facing you, his chin resting in his hand and his elbow on your armrest. His gaze was sort of nice. “So, Miss Stark, I have a few questions.” 

   “Um, okay, shoot,” you closed your book that you had open on your lap. “I’m not that interesting, just so you know.” 

  “I think you’re interesting,” he assured you. You heard Happy let out a choked laugh at Peter’s flirting attempt, but it was just another thing you found sort of lovely. It was a genuine compliment. “What’s your favorite subject in school?”

   You’d been expecting the typical what’s it like being Tony’s daughter spiel, and you were pleased to get an actual question about yourself for once. “I like everything, I guess. I kind of love school, but I don’t go to a conventional school, so. Training is cool, I like that a lot.” 

   “You train with Black Widow, I have to ask- can you show me some moves? I need to refine my technique before the fight,” he explained.  

    “Do you wanna learn how to crush people with your thighs?”

   “Wow! Do you think I could? Could you teach me? That’s so cool,” he beamed, turning to the camera for a split second with an overexcited look. 

   You pursed your lips, staring out your window for a minute. You were up in the air by now, and there was long flight ahead of you. “Maybe. If my dad is okay with it. I have to check.” Peter looked confused, 

   “Why wouldn’t he be?” 

   “He’s, you know, really overprotective.” You put your first against the cheek, leaning the same way that Peter was. You sighed. “I don’t have a lot of friends. Which is fine, but I can’t even attempt to go make any because I have a whole freaking SWAT team on my ass the minute I step out of the tower because he’s so worried about my safety.” You let your head hit the window, your eyes rolling skyward. “And that makes no sense because-” 

   “You’re really strong and stuff. You can protect yourself,” Peter finished. 

    “I think you know me a little too well, Peter,” you said, poking him lightly in the arm. “But… yeah, exactly. I don’t really get to do anything fun. I don’t have adventures. Sure, reading is fun and studying is fun for me and training is great and I love hanging out with everyone in the tower but I’m still a teenager. No fun for me, though. My life is pretty boring, sorry if that makes your little video diary suck.” You stuck your tongue out at his camera.  

   “No worries,” he said, taking it off the tray table and turning it toward you. “Tell me every boring detail, Miss Stark.” 

   “As long as you stop calling me Miss Stark.” 

   “You’ve got a deal.” 

   It was a seven hour trip, and you both passed out by the three hour mark after Peter had pried every excruciating detail from your life out of you. You hated sleeping on airplanes, but your head was slumped against his shoulder and his arm was knocking against your own and his sweatshirt was as soft as pillow. You remembered the shy glance he had given you just before you knocked out on his shoulder for the remainder of the flight. He had a sweet smile. 


    Peter filmed absolutely everything. He filmed himself getting off the plane and then filmed you getting off the plane and nearly shoved the camera in Happy’s face until he threatened to break it and Peter backed off. He radiated enthusiasm. “Look at this, and this, and this, oh shit wow that’s so cool look at this! Oh man this is good stuff!”

   “Peter this is literally just the airport how am I supposed to take you around the actual city?!”

   “OH WOW Y/N have you seen this!” 

    “Yes, Peter!” 

     He zoomed in on your face, your devoid of emotion look appearing again. “Are you ever gonna smile for the camera?” He gave you a pout, doe eyes and all. You turned away. 

   “No. I’m supposed to be babysitting you, please be behave.” You touched your fingers to the bridge of your nose, dragging Peter to a couch. “Please sit. We’re getting the hotel reservations checked.” 

   “Do they juice boxes? I’m really thirsty.” He was just trying to make you laugh at this point, and annoying you was kind of funny for him. You let out an involuntary chuckle when he pretended to claw at his throat, throwing himself on the ground. 

   “I’ll make sure they have juice boxes for you, Petey. You’re such a seven year old, geez.” You pretended to gag. 

   Looking offended, Peter replied, “I’m actually twelve.” 

   Jokingly, you said, “You’re a twelve year old that’s going to get a punch in the face if you don’t settle down right now.” He stood up, directly in front of you with his light eyes and little grin, another feverish looking heat burning at his face. Nevertheless, he still said, “It’d be an honor to get beaten up by you.” 

  His voice, the sincerity he carried within it despite the ludicrous statement, made you feel those famed butterflies fluttering inside you. Maybe it was the way he looked into your eyes as he said it. Maybe it wasn’t. But something within you was starting to like Peter Parker, and you’d barely known him for twenty four hours. 

   Then again, it was hard to not like Peter. The kid was just so damn likable. 


   He had known it from the moment he first set his eyes upon you that day in the tower that he was a goner. If he had known it then, just from sitting down across from you with nothing to him but his lanky figure and a suit that resembled a onesie more than it did a costume fit for a hero such as he, he was sure of it now, a week and a half later. 

   Every day had been the same routine. He’d be up bright and early in the morning so you could help with him his training, teaching him how to utilize the suit your father had given him with ease rather than his usual tactic of jumping into everything blind. You’d been the one to help come up with nearly all of the web shooter combinations. He didn’t know all of them yet, or close to half of them, but he was progressing wonderfully. 

   After training, you’d give him the tour of your favorite places around Germany, close enough to where you’d both be able to get back to the hotel before dark. He filmed the both of you constantly, but you shied away from the cameras every time without fail. He couldn’t understand why, but he didn’t push. He just liked filming in general, and would accept you not smiling in any of his clips as long as you were still in there. 

   There was a beautiful sense of normalcy that came with hanging around Peter. You reveled in it. No one had ever made you laugh so hard with his ridiculous attempts at jokes or made you smile so much at his shy flirting skills that clearly needed to be revisited. 

   It was okay. You didn’t mind. And the fact that you didn’t tease him for it made him so, so happy. 

   Then, came the day of the fight. Peter had his camera out, he was dressed in his spidey suit, and you were standing there next to him dictating who he should and shouldn’t go after. 

   “Don’t go after Wanda ‘cause she could obliterate you in two seconds and Cap could crush you, too, but he won’t ‘cause he’s really nice like that. Bucky won’t care as much, though, so don’t do that- Ant-Man seems pretty cool and harmless but I don’t have as much intel on him and Peter if you get hurt you have to go hide somewhere-” 

   “I’m not gonna get hurt,” he said confidently. 

   You ignored him. “I’m gonna be in your earpiece, figuratively speaking, so I’ll hear everything you do and if you talk I’ll be able to hear you and you can hear me. So, just… keep me updated.” Peter took off his mask for a second, hair sticking up everywhere from the static. You leaned up, smoothing it back into place. Everything about him was soft. You wanted to curl up in it and stay there for as long as you could. 

   “I’ll be fine, Y/N, don’t worry,” Peter placed his hand on your shoulder. You felt your face heat up. 

   “I- I’m not worried.” You totally were. “I know you’ll be fine.” You didn’t want him getting hurt. “I just want you to be careful.” You didn’t want him to fight. 

   You could’ve sworn his face fell a  bit when you said you weren’t worried, but he squeezed your shoulder anyway. Without a moment’s hesitation, you threw your arms around him, your nose pressing against his neck as you took a deep breath. He stood there for a second without doing anything until he realized that if he didn’t hug you back, he’d be the dumbest person on the face of the Earth. You felt his surprisingly defined arms hug you back. 

   You didn’t look at him when you pulled away. You stared at the spider emblazoned on his chest, gave him a quick good luck, then departed from the room. You sat on your own hotel bed with a rapidly beating heart.

    The nerves were killing you. Ten more minutes. You opened your laptop and pulled up the system that would allow you to communicate across Team Stark. You were more focused on your dad and Peter. You tapped into your dad’s earpiece after placing the headset on. “Dad?” You spoke into the microphone. 

   “Hey, kiddo, everything okay?” 

   “Y-Yeah I just-” you took another breath. “Be safe. I love you.” 

   “I love you too, Y/N. Are you sure everything is okay over there?” 

   “Can you just make sure Peter gets out okay? If he gets hurt, bring him right back, please. That’s it.” Maybe it was a stupid request in someone else’s eyes, but you needed Peter to make it back in one piece. Tony Stark looked over at Peter Parker, crouching in his hiding spot and fumbling around with the gloves of his suit and gave the kid a knowing smile. Of course that was the one his  daughter fell for in the end. Perfectly fitting. 

   “I’ll make sure.” You knew your father couldn’t see the grateful smile on your face, the sigh of relief that fell past your lips when he spoke these words.

   Peter Parker, I swear if you make it out of this, I will smile like an idiot in every single one of your stupidly adorable video diary things. I swear. Just be safe.


 “Your black eye is awful,” you told him, dabbing at it with more cream. “Totally ruins your face.”

   “I think I look manly.” 

   “You think incorrectly.” You stepped back, your fingertips tilting his chin up so you could examine it further. “I think I got the worst of it. You did really well, Peter. Exceptionally well.” His face was glowing from your compliment. 

   “Can I get on that tape?” He asked excitedly, ducking under his hotel bed for his camera. You nodded, and he switched the camera on. He held out his arm so that you were both in frame. And you smiled. He forgot all about what you were supposed to say the moment that beautiful smile appeared there. “I- wow, Y/N.” 

   “What?’ 

    His stare was kind as it usually was. “You just-” he paused. “Your smile is really, really beautiful.” There was no way for you to turn away from the camera this time and you were left grinning like a lovestruck idiot at the boy in front of you, leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. 

  “Thank you.” 

  You slept the entire plane ride the way you had the last time, curled up against Peter. This time, it was intentional. One of your arms was flung across his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulders, the sweatshirt he had came in now swaddling you cozily. There were two separate cars waiting for you. You stood in between them when the flight got off, the sleeves of his sweater hanging off your hands as you reached out to grab his. He felt you push a piece of paper into his hand. “You better call me, Peter Parker. I’ll be really upset if you don’t.” 

   He wrapped you suddenly in an embrace that lifted you off your feet just a little bit, his lips pressing against your temple. “I’ll call you every day.” 


   He kept true to his word. Every day without fail, your phone rang with a call from Peter, and you fell asleep on the phone with him more often than not. If you weren’t on the phone with him, you were texting him, and if you weren’t doing that, you wished that you were. The consistent communication was better than nothing, but regardless, you missed his presence. You missed the way you felt walking next to him as he explained why chocolate ice cream was so clearly better than vanilla. You just missed him. 

   “Peter?” You held the phone to your ear, nestled in your blankets already even though it was barely nine o'clock. His sleepy voice mumbled out a yes? “Would it be stupid if I said that I missed you?” 

  She could practically hear his wide smile through the phone. “Of course not. I miss you, too. So much. Probably more than you miss me.” 

   “That’s so not true!” She scoffed. 

    “Wanna bet?” His tone was mischievous, no longer the hoarse, pretty voice of a boy just waking up from his nap. “Open your bedroom door.” 

    “Are you joking?” 

    You hung up the phone, throwing back your covers and not caring one bit that your hair was a dripping mess from your shower or that you were wearing  a terrible set of hello kitty pajamas that weren’t meant for anyone over the age of ten based on the size of the top. You nearly tackled him to the ground when you saw him standing in your doorway, a happy squeal escaping your lips. You were surprised he even got in, considering your dad wasn’t home, but you figured Vision had let him in. Vision always had a way of knowing. 

   “Have I ever told you that you have a really pretty smile?” Peter’s lips hovered over yours, almost hesitant. You took the initiative to kiss first, your hands delving into his silk-like hair. There was no point in waiting anymore. Your noses bumped together clumsily when he tilted his head back, admiring. You could feel your whole being light up when he gazed at you the way that he did, in that admiring, careful, Peter way of his. 

   “Careful, Spidey,” You warned, hands on his chest as you stared right back up at him. 

   “Careful of what?” He quirked an eyebrow. 

   “You’re going to make me fall in love with you one of these days if you keep looking at me like that.” It was only the truth, and you were a honest person.

   “That’s sort of the plan,” he shrugged in a seemingly careless way, but he couldn’t hide it. He was an open book. An open book who loved you, and the way that you smiled at him when he pulled back his sleeve to reveal a web shooter, a strange glint in those brown eyes of his as he said, “You up for an adventure?” 

summersaltturn  asked:

"Have anyone told you you have the most intimidating nostrils I've ever seen?"

“Yeah, I won an award, junior year,” Derek answers, frowning at his new IKEA (bought and built, all in a soft Henley sweater; Stiles knows, he supervised) book-shelf, like he hasn’t just finished a seven hundred page tome on Egyptian artefacts. A seven hundred page tome on Egyptian artefacts alone.

Derek Hale: epic nerd and assembler of easy-to-build IKEA products. Of course, Stiles thinks, cursing his stupid Professor and DIY kinks. Why not? The worst part is, he doesn’t even think those kinks are sexual. It’s just….a thing. That he has. A Derek thing. The Butterflies That Live In His Stomach were trying so desperately to move on with their lives, too. They’d shopped around. Hired a real-estate agent. They were ready, goddammit!  

Derek settles on a book - Stiles is pretty sure it also has the word ‘artefacts’ in the title - and sighs, all feigned nostalgia, and glances over his shoulder. “It was a golden nose, too. Across the bottom it said,” he pauses, grinning, “Stiles Stilinski needs to get a life.”

Stiles opens his mouth, clutches his chest, because rude much? Is it his fault Derek’s nostrils belong in some kind of anatomy museum? Is it his fault his Saturday nights are spent playing video games in his underwear, when his week days are spent chasing down monsters and researching things like how Scott and Erica managed to contract chicken pox when stabbing them does, like, nothing? (Except get Erica excited because she’s a beautiful, terrifying weirdo.) The moment he tries to tell Derek this, however, a copy of - is that Pride and Prejudice? - is thrown at his head. 

Stiles doesn’t know if he’s more offended when Derek rolls his eyes when it misses him, or the concerned look that crosses his face when the book sails past him and lands in an empty pizza box, like Derek is worried if it’s okay or not. 

And to think, Stiles was going to screw up his courage and finally invite Derek to see a movie this weekend. In an actual theatre. Where people go to be normal. Well, the laugh is on Derek because Stiles is going to buy the big popcorn and he’s going to enjoy it all on his own. 

Yeah, that’ll show him. 

~

“Has anyone ever told you your eyebrows could star in a disturbing kid’s movie about caterpillars?” 

Stiles is drunk. No, he’s wasted. Hammered. Loaded. Completely and utterly shit faced. Which is probably why instead of ending up on his ass on the floor, Derek just pinches the bridge of his nose, tips his head against the back of the couch and says, “what.” Not even a hint of inflection.

This dude, Stiles thinks, and then laughs because, ohmygod, Derek is this dude now. Not that dude or whoa, what are you doing crawling through my window, dude? but this dude. And that’s kind of beautifully heart warming, in its own way. 

Really, Stiles should write into Hallmark. It could be a trilogy. A Gay Trilogy ™. Bisexuals on ice. Except, without the ice because Stiles doesn’t know how to skate. Can Derek skate? Stiles totally bets Derek can skate.   

Speaking of Derek, he’s got this little crinkle on his forehead now, right between his eyebrows, and man, they really are very nice eyebrows. Animated but nice. A little dramatic but nice. Murderous but nice.

“What,” Derek says again, looking more confused than annoyed by the second. Stiles really wants to kiss him.

Instead, he stares. Stares and stares and stares.

Shit.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, he begins laughing uncontrollably and before he knows it, he’s clutching his sides and has his face pressed against Derek’s chest, because the hilarity is killing him. 

Because this is them now. Drinking peach-snaps at Derek’s loft, on a couch filled with throw pillows. Throw pillows. One is even soft and pink and frilly and another has a picture of the pack on it. Granted, no one is looking at the camera but Derek, Boyd and Kira and Derek is not so much looking at the camera as yelling at Stiles (holding the camera) for eating his secret stash of cookies, but it’s nice. It’s a nice picture. There is a plain black pillow too, of course. Somewhere. Stiles might be sitting on it, actually. He figures one can only expect so much when it comes to sour-wolves but Erica glued little cat ears on it last week and Derek said nothing. Fuck, he’d even smiled.

It says a lot about what a secret softie Derek is when it comes to vulnerable, drunk-ass people, because he doesn’t push Stiles away; just lets him laugh and laugh until he passes out, drooling on his chest. 

When Stiles wakes up, Derek’s sweater is pretty soaked through but he hasn’t moved an inch. He does, however, tell Stiles he snores like a deranged goose and that he owes him a pastry later.

He doesn’t even ask for a specific kind, Stiles chastises in his head, falling back to sleep. He’s in love with a pastry idiot. 

~

“Do you know when you smile, you brighten up the whole damn room?”

The question clearly catches Derek off guard because he falls head first…into a duck pond. 

Stiles’ first reaction is to jump in after him - he hates to admit it, but he gets a little nervous around water when Derek is with him; there have been several incidents where he’s unconsciously grabbed Derek’s hand in order to drag him away from pools and, one time, a very large puddle - but when Derek emerges, wearing his someone is about to die face, Stiles can’t be held accountable for the way he falls to the ground because, yup, that’s a tiny, outraged duckling perched on top of Derek’s head.   

“Oh my god,” he yells, rolling onto his back and kicking his legs in the air. He feels like a kid, grabbing his stomach, water practically pouring from his eyes. This was, quite possibly, the best day of his life.

Normally, Derek would be yelling threats - several, in fact, some in Spanish because he’s a show off - but he just stands there….in the middle of a fucking pond. The duckling is still sitting on his head, like he or she plans to set up home there and it’s so adorable Stiles thinks he actually coos out loud.

Still, Derek still doesn’t say anything. Not even when Stiles coos again, very, very deliberately. (And Scott said his middle name could never be Danger, pffft.) Stiles can’t actually guess what Derek is going to do but he doesn’t care. He looks a strange cross between wanting to murder someone - namely, Stiles - and a little kid who was told they couldn’t get a puppy only to get one on Christmas day anyway. 

Mostly, he just looks lost. And wet. Very, very wet. Somewhere out there, someone is playing It’s Raining Men and Stiles wants nothing more than to share this glorious moment with them. He’s just in the process of taking out his phone to at least snap a photo to send to the pack when - 

“Did you mean it?” Derek asks, and man, those water droplets just keep on running, don’t they. 

Stiles grins. “Did I mean for you to fall into a pond and adopt a new feathered friend? No but I think we can all agree-” 

Stiles.” 

Derek growls and it would be effective - at least in getting Stiles to help him out of the pond - if it wasn’t for the fact his ears were turning a little pink. A lot pink, actually and - 

Oh.

Sitting up, Stiles drags his butt over to the edge of the pond.

“Yeah,” he says. “I meant it. I mean, smiles can’t literally light up rooms, I know that, but when you smile it’s like…” He sighs and flaps his arms, suddenly nervous, hitting Derek in the process. The duckling practically glares at him and Stiles briefly wonders if he has competition here. 

Right. Better make this good then. He clears his throat. 

“It’s like, everything just makes sense for a little bit, you know? I look at you and it’s not that smiling is rare for you, at least not anymore, but it’s still pretty thrilling to see it and when you do I’m like, that’s some quality shit right there but then I get confused because it’s like, do I wanna punch it? Kiss it? Pet it? Who knows. Usually it depends on what you’re wearing.” 

Derek blinks and Stiles groans because, yeah, he just said that out loud. In real time. To Mr McGrumpy himself. Who is currently not reacting.

Great.

“Uh, I mean,” he attempts to correct himself but it’s too late. Derek is already slowly pulling him in and pressing his lips to his in what is the single most innocent, chaste kiss of Stiles’ life - because, you know, duckling and head movements - but somehow, it still manages to be perfect. 

“Nice,” Stiles whispers, after, waggling his eyebrows.

Derek snorts and kisses him again.

~

“Turn it off,” Derek whines, nuzzling further into Stiles’ neck. “This is why I leave my phone in the kitchen. Like we discussed.

Stiles tries to swat him, ends up kissing his temple. Sue him, he’s tired. “Says the person who can afford to leave their phone in the kitchen. We don’t all have supernatural hearing, asshole.”

Derek whines again. “You also have the worst taste in ringtones.”

Stiles gasps, suddenly sitting up. Well, he tries to. When your boyfriend is made of muscle and is half lying on top of you, it makes moving a lot more difficult. Not that Stiles is really complaining. Much. “I’ll have you know Bushes of Love is a Star Wars parody classic.”    

Derek rolls his eyes, Stiles can feel it, says, “just answer it, sweetums.” 

“Ugh,” Stiles grimaces, “I already told you I’m sorry for the pet-name thing. It was an accident!”

“Calling me your ‘slutty buddy’ in front of your dad was meant as a pet name?”

“It sounded better in my head!”  

Derek groans and wraps an “exasperated” arm around Stiles’ waist. Oh. So. Exasperated. Stiles grins. “Answer. Your. Phone.” 

Stiles finds his phone on the fifth try.

He has fifteen missed calls, all from Erica. Texts too. Every single one is a link to some article online, followed by a string of heart and eggplant emojis.   

Young Love and the Ugly Duckling’,” Stiles reads, clicking on the link. “Uhhh, Derek?” He prods him. 

What.” 

There’s a picture of us in the online Beacon Gazette,” looking into each other’s eyes, like a pair of love sick fools, Stiles wants to add because, wow, is he really that obvious when he looks at Derek? To be fair though, Derek isn’t much better and he is the one with an angry bird on his head.

He prods Derek again and again until he finally gives in, makes him look at the phone. 

“Huh,” he says, blinking at it. “Fred looks pretty pissed that I’m kissing you.” His face breaks out in a smug grin and Stiles rolls his eyes. Hard. 

“You are aware Fred is a duckling, right?” 

“Yes.” Derek grins harder, showing all his teeth, although his cheeks do colour slightly when he catches Stiles’ eye. 

Stiles sighs, totally not fond. “They couldn’t have come up with a better title, though?” he asks, brandishing his phone. “The Ugly Ducking, really?” 

Yeah,” Derek says, frowning. “I mean, I wouldn’t go as far as to call you ugly.” He laughs and Stiles smacks him across the chest with a loud, “hey!”

They both turn back to look at the picture. 

“We look so stupid,” Stiles whispers, shaking his head and biting his thumb. We fit, he thinks. We look like we fit. 

Leaning in, Derek smiles at him. “We do,” he agrees, burying his face back into the warmth of Stiles’ neck, muttering something about home and content and stupid Star Wars parodies.

Stiles snaps a selfie, captions it goals, and sends it to Erica. 

The Mean Marquis

Lafayette x Reader

Note: So @a-schuylerr made a post about different Lafayette fic scenarios they would like to see and I got inspired. Thank you to @thatoneimaginesblog for being my proofreader and for putting up with me spamming you with my process on this fic. This is my longest fic and I am really excited for you to read it!

Warning: smut and that’s basically it

Word Count: 7,204 ( I expected it to be long just not this long)

Tagged: @hamiltonsquills @mehrmonga @iamgrayfox @rottwat @beckett-faye @justanotherone2u @aph-bermuda @haletotheking24


1772

When your father first announced that you were to marry a French nobleman in just over a month, you felt as if your throat had fallen into your stomach. You were angry and shocked, so angry that you could hardly form a sentence before you stormed off.

That was three days ago, your anger had subsided and left you feeling worried. Worried about the man you were going to be married to. He wasn’t just any old French nobleman he was the Marquis de Lafayette, more affectionately known as the “Mean Marquis”. You’d heard stories about him about his ruthless and cold nature when it came to business. You had also heard about how popular he was with women, and that he was always surrounded by them.

“It’s just not fair!” you yell. You’d walked far enough away from you family’s home that you know you can speak without being heard. “I don’t even know him why should I marry him?” you groan as you sink to your knees.

You take a deep breath as you feel yourself start to panic. How on earth is he going to treat me? You wonder. After everything you’ve heard about him, the best you can hope for is that he will ignore you. He will probably give you a child or two but for the most part, just forget you even exist.

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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You’re In Love With Him But He Likes Your Best Friend

Masterlist linked in bio 


Harry’s been drinking all night.

It all started off with Savannah, whom he went to Lexi’s Bar with a couple of friends. It was a tradition they all had that carried throughout the past couple of months. Because Friday night meant cheaper alcohol, and Y/n’ s closing shift.

They were all having a good time, Y/n serving them drinks and they all drank their week away. It was just a night of celebrating the end of the week, where stress could be left behind for at least a couple of hours.

Everything was great until Harry got too handsy. It wasn’t his fault, he thinks, they had been talking for months and he had no particular reason to refrain himself from wrapping his arms around Savannah, considering she’s let him do it many times before.

But tonight, she wasn’t going near him, which was a drastic change from her previous attitude with him earlier that night.

So now, he’s stranded at Lexi’s Bar past closing hours, tipsy out of his mind. Savannah left without a word, abandoning him at the bar with no other ride home. 

Jesus, Harry!” Y/n gasps, her hand instinctively reaching for her chest when she makes her way back to the bar. “What the hell are you still doing here?!”

Their friends had left a while ago, only Harry remaining slumped against the bar with an empty glass of Malibu. She wasn’t aware of his stay, in fact, it was her closing shift and the bar had closed twenty minutes ago. Only the slight sound of the radio and the clanging of dishes Y/n was washing could be heard throughout the scene.

He looks like a mix of frustrated and upset, a clear shadow of sadness in his eyes as he looks up at her. He frowns a bit, looking back down at the empty glass that’s fiddling in his hands as he lets out an almost inaudible sigh.

“Do you mind driving me home?” he asks guiltily, “Savannah was my ride but she’s not really speaking to me right now.”

Y/n furrows her eyebrows at the softness of his words, an evident tone of helplessness when he spoke. She nods her head slightly, reaching over to grab his finished drink.

“Gonna wash this real quick,” she mutters, “you can grab your coat, I’ll be right out.”

Harry nods while shooting her a small smile through his frown. He’s always been extremely appreciative of her efforts with him. He knows damn well no other person would be able to treat him the way she does. She put him first, always, and it had always been something Harry never fully understood. She went out of the way for him whenever he needed it most, without the smallest hesitation. And if he needed someone to talk to, even if it was about the horrendous traffic on his way to work, she was always there to listen to him.

He can’t lie, he feels guilty that it’s her closing shift and she’d have to be driving out of her way in order to take him home. But in all honesty, he had nobody else. Savannah left without a word after Harry tried desperately to get her attention, his other friends following shortly after in one car, leaving Harry stranded alone at the bar with Y/n still working. So, really, this was his only option.

When Y/n returns to the front of the bar, she remains silent as she grabs her coat off of the hanger. She looks at him from the corner of her eye, watching as his fingers rub harsh circles against his temples, a gesture he’s always done when he was stressed. He shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes tightly as he fixes the jacket hanging swiftly from his shoulders.

She bites her lip, curious eyes wandering around his slumped frame. Seeing Harry distressed makes her feel upset. Witnessing him at a time of stress was extremely rare, and something about it makes Y/n’s stomach drop. He was always so positive, always making sure the people around him were smiling. He has the type of personality others strive, because he’s so selfless and effortless at everything he does, it’s the part of him Y/n always loved and admired.

“What happened? You okay?”

Harry lets out a frustrated sigh, his nose flaring as he closes his eyes momentarily.

“Savannah’s just so confusing sometimes. I like her a lot, but she’s hard to keep up with. It’s like she’s into me one minute and the next like I’m completely wasting her time, you know? I don’t know what she wants from me anymore.”

Y/n nods, understanding completely what he’s talking about. Savannah often does this to him—to most guys, actually.Because of how different they both are relationship-wise, it’s almost impossible for Harry to adjust to Savannah’s ‘hard to get’ character. Harry prefers to not waste any time when it comes to dating. If he likes someone who reciprocates feelings, he immediately takes action. That’s how he always was with his past girlfriends, taking no time to start a relationship with them.

Savannah, however, loves the game. Being chased amuses her, almost makes her feel as if she’s worth something. Because of her undoubtable beauty and irresistibly charming personality, she always makes the man work for her liking. Her character always made guys frustrated but exposed them to an entirely different relationship. Her hot to cold attitude made men feel intimidated, yet motivated them to catch her. Because, undoubtedly, she’s the ultimate catch no guy could ever ignore.

It had always been that way, too. When Y/n and Savannah both hit puberty, Savannah was the irresistible one. Her figure curved at all the right edges, her tan complexion naturally glowing, and she started to expose herself to new people.

She wasn’t shy of anything. Any opportunity to take on a challenge called Savannah’s name. She was constantly seeking adventure and finding new people to get along with. Which, of course, wasn’t hard at all. Everyone liked Savannah, it was almost impossible not to.

Y/n, however, was the exact opposite. She was beautiful, but not ‘Savannah beautiful.’ She was paler, not a spot of makeup on her face. Her body was a bit more frail than hers, her curves not as extenuated. She was more introverted, as well, only speaking when she felt was necessary. The only way she was able to make friends was through Savannah’s courageous behavior.

And although Savannah and Y/n had an unbreakable bond since middle school, being Savannah’s best friend screwed up Y/n’s love life tremendously. It hurt Y/n a lot throughout her high school years. Being best friends with the most beautiful girl wasn’t easy for her, if anything, it made her feel less about herself. It’s the exact reason why she hasn’t dated in years. Because guys Y/n liked always ended up falling for Savannah.

Which is exactly what’s happening with Harry.


Y/n first met Harry when she began working at Lexi’s. It was her first Friday night shift during the summer. It was her first week after training, so she wasn’t quite used to the busy weekends and late hours, but she didn’t mind it.

She was rearranging glasses at the bar when Harry first walked in. Her breath hitched in her throat when she first saw him enter. She could have sworn her heart had jumped out from her chest in that very moment. He was beautiful, a different kind of beautiful, too. He was so effortless at it—the way he moved and the way he presented himself; he had confidence in himself without flaunting it.

He was wearing tight black jeans with a pink floral see-through button up, flowing loosely from his shoulders. His chest was in great view, as well, the cross hanging from his necklace dangling perfectly between his pecs. His hair was freshly cut, his face freshly shaved and had an aroma of a cologne Y/n wasn’t familiar with. It was unique, though, like him, and all-in-all made him more attractive than she already perceived him to be.

Her eyes went wide when he claimed the barstool in front of her, her actions coming to a halt as her eyes hawked over his every move. She genuinely forgot how to breathe, his physical features overwhelming her in ways she’s never experienced before. The world around her seemed to fade as she admired every part of him she could see.

He was just so breathtaking.

It wasn’t until one of the other bartenders dropped a glass onto the floor that Y/n was pulled out of her trance. She quickly shook her head, slowly coming back in touch with reality. Thankfully, he hadn’t seemed to notice her presence yet.

She shook her head again before working to dry the remaining shot glasses. She just had to make it a couple of hours without completely embarrassing herself in front of him, that’s all she had to do.

Her eyes drifted slightly to him again when he lifted his right leg up against the unoccupied barstool next to him, leaning over before his fingers started working to retie his shoelace.

“The usual.” he spoke, eyes still cast downward.

Y/n looked around behind the counter, checking to see if he was talking to someone else. Considering she had just started working there a week ago and hasn’t served him yet, she was completely clueless as to what he was ordering.

“Uh..”

He looked up from his shoes, eyes diverting right into hers as a sense of realization reached his features.

“Oh, I see,” he giggled, “Sorry, love. I wasn’t aware there was a new bartender in town.”

His voice was both raspy and smooth in the most elegant way she’s ever heard. His accent was so incredibly thick she could visually see it by the way his lips moved. And his giggle, with the slight smirk he developed made her heart flutter in her chest.

Y/n nodded, smiling slightly at him.

“Yeah, just started a week ago. Nobody’s ever ordered ‘the usual’ before.” she joked, nervous laughter falling from her lips as she tucked loose pieces of hair behind her ear.

He grinned at her, his cheeks turning a bit peachy. He had to admit, she was gorgeous, and clearly had a great sense of humor. He could tell she was shy, though, by the way she wasn’t confident in her words and the way her cheeks flushed whenever he spoke to her.

“Cute” he muttered ever so slightly, Y/n almost thought she imagined it, “‘The usual,’ at least for me, is a Malibu Bay Breeze. Bit heavier on the cranberry juice, a bit lighter on the pineapple.”

Y/n nodded, muttering a quiet “coming right up” before gathering the ingredients. Harry watched her as she poured it all together, mixing the essential ingredients, admiring her gestures and movements whenever he said something that made her smile.

They talked for hours that night, getting to know each other. Y/n was mesmerized, completely and utterly captivated at how somebody like him could possibly exist. He was everything she’s ever dreamed of—there wasn’t any part of him she didn’t find alluring. This was the only time she’s ever spoken to him, yet she found herself feeling something she’s never felt before.

And the feelings only got stronger with time. Every Friday for four months, Y/n found Harry coming into Lexi’s earlier than he usually did, and every time he’d come she prepared him a Malibu Bay Breeze—heavy on the cranberry, light on the pineapple.

He stayed with her until closing, until the last light went off and the music went down. And after she was off her shift, he took her to the 24-hour movie theater that hardly anybody went to in those early hours of the morning. Instead of watching, however, they spent the entire movie goofing around with popcorn and sharing fond memories of their childhood.

To say Y/n had fallen hard for Harry was an understatement. She was completely and unconditionally in love with him.

The feeling he had given her never subsided—he never failed to give her a feeling of euphoria whenever he spent his Friday nights with her. And the more he opened up to her, and the more she opened up to him, the more it felt right. He felt right, no part of her doubted that for a second. He captured her heart and she knew there was no way in hell she was ever getting it back.

Savannah even began to notice her shift in mood ever since her Friday night shifts began. It was as if she turned into an entirely different person. She seemed more confident in herself, and Savannah started noticing the softest of smiles illuminating on her face every so often.

Y/n was the happiest she had ever been before, she swore she was on cloud nine. Y/n started to believe nothing could have torn her down. Nothing.

But then, it happened.

Savannah showed up to Lexi’s during Y/n’s regular Friday night shift. It was a little past midnight, arriving back from her aunt’s wedding—which Y/n would have attended if she didn’t need the money (and if it wasn’t during her shift Harry was a frequent customer in).

She ran in with a long eggplant purple dress, which had a long slit along the leg. Her hair curled in perfect waves that fell loosely down her shoulders, her makeup illuminating and extenuating her flawless features.

“Y/n!” She squealed, scurrying her way to the bar while nearly tripping over her six-inch heels.

Y/n saw Harry’s eyes widen at the sight of her. Of course she visited her when Harry’s here, and of course, she visited when she looked as beautiful as ever. Y/n knew the second Savannah walked in that it was over, every possibility of her and Harry building up to a relationship has been knocked down to the ground.

Y/n closed her eyes momentarily, because she started to feel every part of her heartbreak, and it was the most painful feeling she’s ever felt. Harry’s only seen Savannah for a couple of seconds and he was already looking at her in a way he never has with Y/n.

She gritted her teeth harshly, because how did she think this wouldn’t happen? This was always how it ended, and even if Harry ever liked Y/n enough to start a relationship with her, she wouldn’t be able to hide him from Savannah forever.

“Guess what!” she yelled once she found her way to the bar, leaning against it so she was as close as possible to Y/n.

“What?” Y/n smiled weakly, unable to rid the aching in her chest.

“The photographer at the wedding asked me to be a model for his pictures! And not only that, but he just started working for Top Shop, said he could talk to some people for me to make this work! Can you believe it?! Savannah Turk, next top model! Gosh, I’m so excited!”

Y/n smiled widely. It was always Savannah’s dream to become a model, and she could definitely pull it off. In all honesty, she was shocked she wasn’t one already.

“That’s great, Savannah!” Y/n gasped, “I can’t believe this! I’m so happy for you!”

They both reached over to hug each other, Savannah jumping up and down as small squeals fall from her lips. Once they let go, Y/n is quick to fix up Savannah’s favorite drink as she claims the barstool next to Harry.

Harry’s heart began to race as she scooted closer to him. She was completely breathtaking. He had never seen someone like her before, every part of her intrigued him. She drew him in, and there was no way in hell there was any chance of going back.

“I’m Harry, by the way.”

Savannah let out a slight “push” as she waved her hand in the air.

“I know, Y/n doesn’t shut up about you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, but quickly refrained against her shocked expression as she let out a nervous laugh. God, they couldn’t know about her feelings, because she hadn’t told anybody about how she felt about Harry and certainly wanted to avoid talking about it while he’s practically gawking over Savannah.

Harry looked up at Y/n with a playful smirk resting perfectly on his face.

“Well, who else is going to get me through my Friday night shifts?” Y/n laughed.

Harry lifted his drink up to her, eyebrows lifting as he smirked at her, “And who else is going to get me through my loneliness, eh?”

Ouch.

Savannah’s eyebrows lifted, a wide grin on her face as she looked over to Harry. And by God, he surely was a sight to see.

“Oh, so ‘Friday night shift boy’ is lonely? Don’t know why Y/n hasn’t taken advantage of that yet,” Savannah smirked, “I know I would have.”


Y/n nods again, mustering up a sympathetic smile to him. She doesn’t want any part of Savannah’s games to make him feel bad about himself. None of what he’s feeling is his fault, and every atom in her body aches for him to know that.

“I’m sorry, Harry” she whispers, “I know how much that can hurt, you don’t deserve it.”

He gives her a soft smile, but it falls just as quickly as it spreads. His gaze falls to the floor, eyebrows furrowing as he shakes his head softly.

“I just can’t keep doing this with her.”

His soft and Bambi eyes look up at her in sorrow, a frown stretched on his lips at the strain his heart has endured.

“I don’t know what more I can do, Y/n.”

And as selfish as it sounds, the first thought that comes to her mind after the hopeless words leave Harry’s mouth is you can love me back.

Because, God, if he loved her, she wouldn’t keep him waiting. She wouldn’t keep him under the impression that he’s not good enough. No, Harry’s fulfilled every part of her wildest dreams, and she would never let a day go by without making him feel the way he deserves—loved.

Despite her selfish thoughts that she desperately wishes she could say to him, she pushes them all aside. Harry needs her, he needs her to be the friend that will be there for him in the latest hours of the night. He needs her shoulder to lean on, and she can’t deny the chance to help him through this and make him feel better.

She doesn’t respond to him, only slinging her bag around her shoulder and pointing her head toward the exit doors.

“We can talk about this later, yeah? Lets just get you home first.”


The ride to his house was silent, mainly consisting of the soft tune on the radio and Y/n’s hushed voice singing along. With the alcohol still buzzing inside Harry’s head, he didn’t mind the silence they shared. It was comfortable because Harry wasn’t in the mood to discuss his anticlimactic relationship with Savannah. He just needed someone to listen to him, to be there for him, and Y/n was his favorite company.

When they arrive at his house, Y/n is basically carrying Harry to his door.

“Yeah, alright, you—that’s right, you’re good” she huffs, the weight of his body making it a struggle for her to walk.

He isn’t drunk enough for her to completely guide him, but he is stumbling a bit and does find himself tripping over his own two feet a couple of times.  

Y/n giggles, shaking her head as she walks him through his front door. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have made you that many drinks. Thank God you weren’t planning on driving, that would have been a mess.”

Harry doesn’t have much time to respond before she sits him down on his couch. She runs her thumb along his forehead softly, wiping away some of the sweat before smiling at him softly.

"Gonna make you some tea, now.”

Harry shakes his head, his hand reaching to grab her wrist.

“Love, you don’t have to,” Harry shakes his head, “you’ve been making everybody’s drinks all night.”

She shrugs, a small smile tugging on her lips.

“I don’t mind. You’re upset, I want to make sure you feel better, alright? I know that Savannah does this to you and I don’t—“ she pauses, closing her eyes softly, “and I don’t want you to keep thinking that this is your fault.”

His heart swells at her words, his large hands reaching out to grip her small ones.

“Would you mind just—just lying down with me for a bit? I don’t want the tea, just need your company right now.”

Y/n frowns slightly, and she isn’t sad because she doesn’t want to be with him. What makes her sad is the intimacy of holding him would give her no chance to escape her feelings. Whenever she feels the heartbreak sneaking back up on her, she always finds a way to distract herself from the pain. Whether it was rearranging her bedroom, organizing the books on her bookshelf, or focusing on her work, there was always a way to escape the pain.

But it’s when she feels him—whether it’s the touch of his hand, or a rub of the shoulder—when she feels his skin ignite her and when she feels the warmth of is body against her, there was no running away from the harsh reality she’s been living in. There is no escape from the thought that she’s in love with someone she can never have because all she feels when she feels him is broken.

And it’s in these moments she finds herself being most selfish. Because he needs her now, holding him, reassuring him that everything will be okay. He’s going through the same feeling she is, and all she can think about is her stupid self and her broken heart, even when he needs her most.

She lays down on his couch first, which Harry finds particularly inviting. He lays with his head face down against her neck, legs tangled in between hers with his arms wrapped around her back. He loves cuddling with her. She’s just so soft, and she feels cozy, especially after he drinks heaps of alcohol. He hasn’t cuddled with her for a while, either, and holding her against him now already makes his shitty night somewhat tolerable.

“Thank you for being with me, Y/n” he mumbles against her collar bone, the fabric of her t-shirt moving against his lips. “And I’m sorry I made you drive me back.”

She giggles softly, her fingers brushing through his messy bed of curls. She feels him relax into her the more she rakes his hair, and he doesn’t hesitate to keep her motions going.

“It’s okay, didn’t have any other plans. Besides, I kind of miss being alone with you sometimes.”

He hums in response, pressing his cheek further into her neck. His eyes shut, his body relaxing to the sound of her heartbeat, which he feels thumping perfectly against his chest.

“S’good to me” he mumbles, “don’t know what I’d do without you, you know.”

Y/n feels her heart skip at the words he spoke against her, her whole body getting an overwhelming sense of despondency.

“Harry, I—“

“I think I’m gonna keep fighting for her” Harry interjects.

His voice is slurring now, his half-asleep daze making his words all jumbled. But he knows what he’s saying, and Y/n knows, too, and her heart plummets. Her throat suddenly begins to choke on cries she wasn’t aware had come so quickly. It’s just another reminder, just another confirmation that Savannah always gets what she wants, even if Y/n wants it more.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna give up on her yet. If I like her, I gotta fight for it, right? She’d be well worth it, too.”

Y/n tries desperately to blink away her tears, and she’s forever grateful that the light is off in his living room when she fails to do so.

“I—I think you should do what you want, Harry” her voice shakes as she speaks, “I’ll be here for you either way.”

Harry holds her tighter, humming in response again, because he’s already falling asleep and finds no energy in him to answer her.

She wishes with everything in her that she can scream, scream at him for being so fucking stupid and oblivious to her love. And the worst part is that she can’t even blame him. She had an entire four months where she could have confessed her feelings, where she could have told him how in love with him she was.

But would it have changed anything? Would they have just ended up in this shitty situation anyway?

And it isn’t until Harry’s passed out on top of her, his breath spreading along her chest and his fingers rubbing her back in his slumber that Y/n realizes she could spend forever laying here with him, all wrapped up against his body. She could fall asleep like this every night, after a long day of work and empty wine glasses on the coffee table. She could see everything, everything she’s ever envisioned, with him.

And it’s in this moment she realizes that she can’t keep doing this anymore, either.

Her cheeks dampen with her tears, hands shaking in his hair. Never would she think she’d have to let him go, but seeing his face rest so peacefully on her chest, she knows she has to.

“I love you, Harry.” She cries, her fingers gripping onto the roots of his hair.

God, Harry, I love you so much.” she sobs.

If Harry wasn’t such a deep sleeper, she would have never dreamt of saying all of this. But he’s remaining asleep, lips parted as he snores, the alcohol in his veins making him almost immobile against her.

“You deserve to be happy, Harry” she whispers, “I shouldn’t hold you back.”

Her body is shaking, soft cries leaving her lips and endless tears streaming down her face. She doesn’t want to let go, she doesn’t want to stop loving him in the way she does now. Because even though it hurts, she doesn’t want to imagine a day without him.

But she has to. For him.

Her thumbs rub along his cheekbones, her eyes admiring his features one last time.

“And it’s because I love you—“ she pauses, swallowing thickly as her shaking lips press tentatively against his forehead, “that I have to let you go.”

Burden of Proof

Word Count: 2357

Request: “ Thought; spontaneously dragging Steve of Bucky into random makeout sessions throughout the day and then just leaving him out of breath as you continue in with your business” And a very pleasant thought it is. 

Warning: Language, making out, and utter ridiculousness

A/N: I had more free time than I anticipated, so you’re getting this early. You have the snow storm to thank for this nonsense.

Steve Version

Originally posted by itsjustmycrazyvibe

“Ow ow ow ow ow!” you groaned through clenched teeth as Natasha dragged you through the halls and over the bodies of the incapacitated Hydra agents.

“Hush! There could still be some stragglers hanging around,” she hissed at you, readjusting her hold in order to pull you along more quickly.

“Well if you hadn’t been there to pull me out of the way, that delightful bullet would have definitely silenced me for good. You have only yourself to blame.”

Keep reading

Long time coming

Bucky x reader

Notes: fluff, hot coffee, Steve and Sam are bratty.

A/N: I needed something short and sweet. So here it is. Enjoy! x 

Summary: a morning incident involving hot coffee finally brings Y/N and Bucky together. 

The moment Y/N walked the kitchen door of the small cabin, Bucky’s eyes were fixed on her. Even though she just woke up and looked a mess with her bedhead and her oversized MIT jersey, he couldn’t stop watching her. As she reached over to the coffee machine she moaned softly -but dramatically- at the movements she had to make to get her daily fuel.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile. She always had a dramatic streak, in a humorous kind of way.

“You alright there, soldier?” He chuckled at her, trying his best to not stare at her ass when she reached up to grab a mug from the cupboard. She wasn’t wearing anything but her cotton panties underneath the MIT jersey, and Bucky wasn’t complaining. 

Keep reading

Bill Skarsgård x Reader

Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Prompt: 

itsthecomet

Bill had a bad day and you make him feel better by cooking or goofing around or just talking and cuddling

Warning: None

Originally posted by x17xblackx

Originally posted by kissing-pleasure

You hummed as you typed into your computer writing fanfic and reading others for inspiration. You weren’t surprised some of them were about your boyfriend Bill Skarsgård. He was really handsome and it was a wonder why out of all the woman he could’ve dated he picked out you.

He was a professional actor with a big family of highly well known and recognized actors. He would be a terrifying clown or a Upir or a spy, but at the end of the day he was the man who you loved to cuddle with on the couch and just overall enjoy each other’s companies. Speaking of the devil, your front door opened and your boyfriend came in looking terrible for once.

His gelled back hair was a bit messy like he kept constantly raking his fingers through it and attempted to fix it but only made things worse. You frowned noticing not only that but his mood was off and even his walk. You knew he must’ve had a rough day when he slumped down next to you on the couch.

That wasn’t your usual Bill. He would usually come home happy and excited to tell you about his day kissing your cheek and already babbling about this certain scene he did.

Only today it was clear he was having a bad day.

You already knew he woke up late and spilled his coffee on the counter just as he was leaving. He had texted you once saying his co-stars were being none-to-friendly either and the director was being hard on all of them. Being the good girlfriend you were you gently stroked his hair fixing a few out of place locks back. Bill sighed and just let you do that to help him relax.

“Tough day?” You asked softly.

“Yeah.” He mumbled.

You frowned and continued to stroke his hair and face softly. He moved to rest his head in your lap and you continued to gently pet him like a cat. You even hummed a song which in your opinion you were terrible at, let alone singing but Bill thought you had the voice of an angel. Eventually he was completely lax looking like he was dozing off.

You chucked and leaned down to kiss his head, “I’m trying to make you feel better not to make you fall asleep silly.”

He smiled and sighed, “Well when I have a beautiful girl doing it I can’t help myself.”

You playfully punched his shoulder making him smile. He lifted up his head and you leaned down knowing he wanted a kiss.

“I’m gonna go get a blanket and make some tea. Sounds good?” You asked.

“I kinda like this angle.” He teased making you roll his eyes.

Despite his words Bill sat up and watched as you went to the closet pulling out your “cuddle blanket”. It was really this gigantic fleece blanket you had found that was light pink with red hearts on it that was just about the size of a king sized duvet.

You threw it at Bill who caught it and watched as you went into the kitchen to make the tea. He loved your tea since it was unexplainably good since you got it from an old family recipe your grandmother had gotten from a friend.

Once that was done you poured them into mugs and went back to find Bill was looking through the comedy movies. You plopped down next to him, being careful not to spill the tea of course, and held a mug out for him.

He graciously accepted it as he continued to scroll through the movies until he found the perfect one. You pulled your legs up to sit Indian style and grabbed the blanket to pull half of it over your lap. You took a sip of yours and smiled at how you had added just the perfect amount of honey.

“You gotta teach me your recipe sometime cause every time I drink your tea it’s amazing.” Bill commented.

“Secret recipe can’t tell ya!” You winked teasingly.

He smiled teasingly pouting but didn’t say much after. You both continued to watch the movie occasionally laughing and at one point you had nearly fallen off of the couch from laughing so hard.

You played several movies until the sun came down and the stars came out. By then you and Bill were watching a romantic comedy. He was leaning against you pressing his head cheek to your head with an arm around your shoulders gently brushing his thumb on your arm. He just loved how soft and smooth and silky your skin was.

Another movie passed and you we laying down on the couch with him resting his head on your chest (cuz apparently men like to think boobs as pillows) well your hand continued to stroke his hair. You eventually got bored of the movie Bill had put on and gently poked him in the side making him instinctively jump.

“What was that for?” He asked.

“Just wanted to see if your still awake.” You lied.

“Yeah I’m awake.” He grumbled before laying  back down on your chest. 

A minute later you felt a finger poke your side and you playfully glared down at Bill you looked at you like he was innocent and clueless.

“What?” He asked truly sounding innocent from his years of acting.

You gave him another accusing glare before resting your head back down on his chest. Not even a minute later you squirmed when you felt something like wiggling fingers attack your sides.

You narrowed your eyes and glared at him well he continued to play innocent. Curse him and his acting career that allowed him to have such a good poker face.

“I know it’s you!” You glared.

“I don’t know what your talking about.” He replied.

You once again laid your head back down on his chest. A few minutes later you felt two hands this time grab your sides and tickle them making you squirm and squeak and squeal like a retarded worm.

“Bill stop!” You squealed in between laughter.

Curse him for knowing your tickle spots so well. 

He eventually did stop and you had laughing hiccups for a few seconds before finally being able to calm down. Bill had a shit eating grinning from ear to ear that grew wider when you pouted cutely even though you were trying to make it look like you were angry.

“So that’s how ya wanna play it huh?” You challenged. (cookie to anyone who gets this reference!!! Hint: Inolves a yellow children’s cartoon character!)

You attacked him this time wiggling and poking make him laugh but not squirm as hard as you did. When he was nearly crying out, “Uncle! Uncle!” You stopped and watched him chuckle for a minute.

After the aftershocks were gone he smiled and kissed you for a few seconds which you gladly accepted of course. He was an amazing kisser and his lips were so soft and kind of just pulled you in like a fish to a shiny lure. No wonder why so many fan girls gay pair him.

When he pulled away he still had a smile on his face as he laid his head back down on his chest listening to you steady and melodic heart beat and feeling his head rise and fall when your lungs expand and deflate. He gently ran his fingers through your hair loving how even on his worst days you always made him smile.

“You know I’m in the mood for tacos.” You said ruining the mood. 

Epilogue: Sorry it’s so short but it makes up for it with all the fluffy goodness of cuddling and watching movies and all that teeth rotting goodness. Since you are reading this another hint for the reference is that in the episode they are playing in the snow when ice bergs? Came in. Bonus points if you remember the episodes name! Oh and I’m seeing the IT movie today so no spoilers! Thanx for Reading! =3!

A Father At Last (Peter Quill x Reader)

Originally posted by despairingfever

By popular demand: Peter finding out you’re pregnant. 

Just in time for mother’s day!


Peter shut his eyes and looked away as he held back your hair. He wasn’t doing the best job at it. A few strands had fallen in your face, but he was too busy trying not to throw up himself, to bother tightening his grip. He’d been in disgusting situations before. He’d grown up around dozens of men who didn’t know what it meant to shower. He’d been covered in god knows how many different types of alien muck. He’d been peer pressured—while drunk—to eat all sorts of strange foods…and he was fine with it all. But when it came to vomit, he could hardly hear the word without inwardly gagging a little.

Thankfully, none of his current shipmates tended to get ill; save for one occasion when Drax caught the A’askavarian flu. Peter physically locked him in the bathroom for the duration, and took to sleeping in the cockpit, as far as possible from any noises. It was a rough few days for his stomach—and Drax’s—but they both managed to survive, no thanks to Rocket’s incessant teasing.

But this situation was different. There was a difference between friends and girlfriends, and that meant holding your hair back, rather than flicking a band in your direction and running away, like he so desperately wanted to do.

Keep reading

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

Miss the previous parts? Part One » Part Two

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

Let me know what you think! Happy reading.

Originally posted by glamour-divine

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

Two weeks?

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

So, he waits.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you reupholster them yourself?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d said the words, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve got his number saved in your phone.

He’s got your number now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Swear,” he nods.

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

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

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

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

“No,” you nearly whisper.

“That’s a big fuckin’ deal, then!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ye’ look great.”

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

“‘m excited too,” Harry smiles.

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

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

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

“I did, too.”

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

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

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

But, he did.

He had to.

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

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

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

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

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

And your ass? In those jeans?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jealousy With A Twist (Marvel)

Originally posted by anthvnystcrk

(A/N: This took me a long time to do, I thought it would be cute and short but HELL NO! 8 PAGES LATER AND WE ARE FINALLY HERE AND FINISHED. Hope you guys enjoy!)

Steve Rogers:

He watched you from across the room with his glass in his hand, clutching the cup to calm himself down. He watched you laughing at some random guys jokes, he glared at the guy watching him move closer to you Steve trailed the guys hand the he began to try and wrap around your waist and that was the last straw for Steve. Just as he walked up to give the man a piece of his mind, he saw you slap the guy across his face slamming your high heel into the guy’s shoes. Steve smiled as he sat back down at the bar pretending he didn’t see what just happened, who was he to tell you how to run his life, he wasn’t your boyfriend.

 "Steve why do all guys who aren’t you just suck.“ You said walking in between his legs wrapping your arms around his neck taking in his smell, that was your true weakness. "Because I’m amazing and a hundred years old (Y/N).” He said brushing your hair softly with one hand and wrapping the other around your waist, titles or not you were his and he was yours. “Oh and Steve I saw you looking at me, there’s no need to be jealous Cap.” You said kissing his cheek.

Originally posted by blossomhael

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes:

“Temper, temper. Remember (Y/N) is just acting. She’s on a mission, so cool it.” Steve said grabbing James’ shoulder for a third time but James couldn’t control himself. This foul scum was touching his girl, he had his hands on his girl and he didn’t like that. “Screw this mission Steve, that’s my fiancé in there being felt up by some creepy prick.” James said marching towards you and the man sitting on the couch across from you. You rolled your eyes and smirked a bit, it was adorable to see the man you’re going to be married to still jealous of silly things. “Now tell me does your wife know you have a thing for younger woman?” You ask loudly side eyeing James, your statement caused the guy to move away a slight bit in fear.

 "How do you know that?“ He asked in fright, that’s when you showed him the disc you were holding "If you explain what’s this? I’ll think about not showing your wife you seduce several young woman. Do we have a deal?” You asked innocently looking at the man who nodded continually as if pleading with you “Good. He’s all yours.” You said throwing the disc to your fiancé winking at him walking back to the rest of the shield agents in the back. “Petty jealousy a good color on you, James.” You said laughing when James and Steve walked to the computer room.

Originally posted by fuckyeahtonystark

Tony Stark:

Tony always loved to throw parties, it was what he was known for but what most people didn’t know is that he’s also amazing at throwing private dinners for the two of you. Today was your 3 year anniversary, you and Tony had gotten married a year ago and many people were surprised you controlled the playboy partier but it wasn’t as hard as they thought. All it took was one night and he was yours, no powers, no spells, no curse, just a long deep connection. “Mr. Stark who could we serve you and this beautiful woman tonight?” The young waiter said winking in your direction causing you to scrounge your face up in a confused manner. “Tell the cooks that me and my lovely date will have our regulars.” Tony strained but didn’t correct the young man, as you both watched the boy leave you looked a Tony.

 "Remind me to have him fired. Alright love?“ Tony said holding your hand playing with your wedding ring. The dinner went by so quickly, more suggestive comments were thrown your way and Tony’s patience began to run thin "May I speak with Sal?” Tony said holding your hand kissing it softly and you knew exactly what was going to happen. “Mr and Mrs. Stark, how can I be of assistance?” Sal, the owner of the restaurant said to us causing the boy to stiffen “Will you please inform ALL of your employees new and old that this woman is my and deserves the same amount of respect that they give me.” Tony said firmly without revealing any names “Certainly Mr. Stark.” Sal said walking to the back with the waiter following him “I’m proud of you Tony, not getting the boy fired.” You said holding his hand tightly.

 "He reminded me a lot of me when I was younger and he helped me realized that all these men are going to be looking at my beautiful wife.“ He said lowly "You just don’t want to admit you were actually jealous.” You said chuckling while rolling your eyes “Oh shut up (Y/N)” Tony said laughing kissing your hand before getting ready to pay for the meal.

Originally posted by thunderbirdthor

Thor Odinson:

“You dare try to defile your queen!” You heard Thor’s voice boom from your shared chambers, you had rubbed your eyes trying to wake yourself up quicker before you softly made your way through the quiet palace. You no longer heard Thor’s booming voice “I should smite you for even thinking of such things towards my daughter in law.” You hear Odin said to the unknown person, you tied your rove tightly before slowly turning the door to the throne room but before you could open the door you felt a hand stop you “(Y/N) that isn’t your Thing inside that room, that man is a jealous, petty and rageful man. Are you prepared to see such things beyond your mind?” Loki asked before letting your hand go allowing you to open the door.

Once the door was open you saw a bloody man tied to wooden hair and Thor towering of him with mjolnir aimed for the sky “Thor Odison! Put mjolnir,down now!” You yelled causing the room to shake a bit. Thor snapped his head to face you and once he saw the fear in your eyes he dropped mjolnir “My love.. this man, this wretched being was trying to sneak into our chambers and harm you my queen.” He said softly trying to comfort you but you moved away from him “Loki was right.” Was all you said when you felt a hand on your shoulder when you looked up you saw Loki’s face looking ahead, you hugged him tightly crying into his armor as he walked out of the throne room with you “He’s going to come out in 5… 4… 3… 2…. send me elsewhere now.” Loki said softly and you did as he asked sending him back to his own chambers. You saw Thor stomp out of the room looking around “Where is he!” He yelled at you causing you to flinch “Safe, away from a monster like you.” You said holding back your tears “I’m a monster? I protect you, yet you call me a monster? Are you with that frost giant?” He sneered causing you to step away from him.

 "Who the hell are you. You’re not my Thor Odinson. My Thor Odison would NEVER disrespect his brother, he believes there is some good in him. So who are you?“ You yelled backing away as he stepped closer to you causing your back to hit a pillar "You’re right. I’m not. I’m better.” Thor said placing both his hands on both sides of your head until you heard thunder and saw it strike down the Thor in front of you. You screamed looking around for help but then you saw him, those golden locks and bright smile, you ran to Thor jumping into his arms “Loki, always up to no good, but I must admit I do feel a string of jealousy.” He said softly in you ear.

 "Why?“ You asked confused "You never yell at me like that.” He said with his booming laugh “I love you Thor.” You said kissing him softly. After the kiss was broken apart you both heard clapping and knew it could be from only one person “LOKI!” You and Thor yelled in unison running after the God of Mischief.


Originally posted by darlingjarvis

Loki Laufeyson:

You had been trying to reach for the book on the high shelf on your tip toes till you felt a larger body closely behind your body pick up the book that you were reaching for “Why didn’t you just ask for help ma'am?” The man asked smiling at you “Because her husband doesn’t appreciate men trying to slide their way to his wife. Do you actually work here or just trying to look for something you won’t be getting from here?” Loki said each word laced with a dangerous promise as he stared coldly at the man who helped you.

 The man had ran away quickly before Loki had moved a foot, and just as you were about to tell Loki something he had pressed you up against the bookshelf “You should know better then to entertain the weak minds of men. You are my woman, or shall I have to remind you here who you belong to.” Loki said softly in your ear nibbling on it softly “God of Mischief and Jealousy, what a dangerously delicious combination.” You said turning in his arms kissing his softly before ducking under his arms and finding a quiet spot to read. He had been sitting on a couch which is where you wanted to sit, once Loki became comfortable you laid on his lap as you read and he played with your hair “You my love shall truly kill me.” He said softly “Oh I hope so.” You said winking at him before returning to your book.


Originally posted by spiderholland

Peter Parker:

She was sitting in their chemistry class looking as beautiful as ever with her messy bun and baggy sweater. Peter planned on finally sitting with her “Today is the day.” He whispered to himself before letting out a big sigh trying to relax himself but as soon as he stepped into the room Connor slid his way to be your chemistry partner for the day, accepting defeat Peter looked to the floor walking slowly to his seat, as he sat down he realized that Ned wasn’t here today so he would be alone in this class. He watched Connor and (Y/N) sitting next to each other and regardless of Connors multiple attempts to get her attention none of them worked until he softly rubbed her side causing her to snap her neck in his direction “Do. Not. Touch. Me.” She said lowly glaring at Connor who put his hands up in a defensive move.

 "Hey, Peter is Ned here today?“ She said turning back to look at Peter who now had a shocked expression on his face, he shook his head in a rushed motion "Good.” She said grabbing her things moving next to Peter “Do you mind if I’m your partner today?” She asked looking at him with sweet eyes “Not at all..” Peter said softly “You would choose this nerd over me?” Connor said in a rather hurt manner. “First off, Peter is more of a man then you’d ever dream of and second of all cocky assholes aren’t my type.” She said smirking moving closer to Peter, this was his chance. He slowly began to wrap her in his arms at first she flinched softly but shortly after she leaned into his arms smiling “So nerds are your type?” Connor said getting up, now angry about the whole matter.

 "Nope. Peter is my only type, now leave me be.“ She said intertwining her fingers with Peters playing with his hand. Connor returned to the other side of the room but (Y/N) didn’t move away from Peter "No need to be jealous of assholes like him, when Peter Parker is my favorite neighbor Spider.” She said winking at him softly before returning to the class at hand. “How do you know that?” Peter said shocked trying not to make a big commotion she then placed her hand on the table and formed her hands as if she was shooting a web causing Peter to look down blushing “Crap.” He said softly.

 "It’s cool Parker, I won’t say anything as long as you agree to out on a date with me.“ She said still looking ahead "Fine, just don’t tell my secret.” Peter said smiling “We both know that’s not why you’re going but you’re safe with me Parker.” She said laughing softly before writing down her notes.

Originally posted by tomshardy

Pietro Maximoff: 

You were sitting on the couches in the Avengers living room with Clints head placed right on your lap, he wasn’t feeling well with his high fever and you finally got him to go to sleep. The Avengers next understood why you and Clint were so close, you and him kept your relationship quiet, he was your uncle and when your mom had passed he promised he would take care of you. He trained you until you were just as good as him at archery and killing the “bad guys” as he put it so that shield would accept you but the only thing you both didn’t imagine was that you would end up falling for one of the Avengers. “Vhat is dis?” You heard your sassy prince mumbled obviously not liking Clint laying on you “Baby, he’s not feeling well. I’m only helping him feel better.” You said but of course Pietro brushes off what you say because his anger is too busy consuming him, he grabbed Clints arm trying to pull him off of you “Pietro I swear to Thor and whatever other gods are up there that I will kill you if you remove me off my niece.” Clint sneered trying to fall asleep but to no avail.

 "Dammit, thank you honey, why do you have to date a blonde jerk.“ You uncle said crossing his arms causing you to laugh "Because he makes me happy, now go lay down and I’ll bring you tea for your head.” You said shooing your uncle watching him walk away “Look you woke his cranky ass up, I was up with him all night trying to get him to sleep and now it’s going to be harder to do it now.” You rolled your eyes making your way to the kitchen to make Clint his tea “You are related?” Pietro asked confused sitting on the bar stool “Yes he was my mom’s brother before she passed away.. he’s my uncle.” You said softly not wanting to get the attention of the other avengers and trying to hold in your tears.

 You felt a set of arms wrap around you pulling you into a tight hug “I love you, and I am very sorry.” Pietro said softly in your ear brushing your hair behind your ear before kissing your forehead. You turned in his arms smiling as he bent down slowly to kiss you “(Y/N)! I need the tea!!!” You heard Clint complain from his room causing you to laugh as Pietro kissed you “Let me attend to the Queen, my love.” You said kissing his cheek before walking to Clints room with his tea.

Originally posted by superwholockpotterhead

Clint Barton:

You were training with some of the agents of shield, trying to enhance your skills to be more useful in the field. You were trying to hold the bow correctly but you were struggling terribly until you felt a pair of arms  make their way to your hands helping you position yourself correctly, now you thought it was your crush, Clint, but to your dismay it wasn’t. “Oh Alex, you scared me?” You said smiling softly as you looked up to see Alex standing there “Expecting someone else?” He question raising an eyebrow, you shook your head slowly, wishing it was Clint and not Alex. You continued to train until you felt Alex’s hand slide down your body and before you could turn to slap him you heard a thud, once you turned around you saw Clint on top of Alex beating him up and before Clint should swing again you grabbed his hand “Clint Barton. Are you crazy?!” You said holding his wrist as he got up to throw you over his shoulder in silence. He marched all the way to his bedroom dropping you on the bed.

 "What the hell was that? He was all over you and you didn’t do shit to stop him. Do you want that kind of attention!“ He yelled causing you to flinch because he had never yelled at you before "Why are you so mad! You’re not my boyfriend! We’re not family! Hell we’re barely friends!” You said yelling in return approaching Clint’s face, he stared at you in silence before you felt his hands wrap around your waist lifting you up and kissing you harshly, causing you to wrap your legs around him, you’ve wanted this for so long, watching him in the shadows wasn’t anything compared to the feelings of right now. “Because you’re my girl, but you knew that already, didn’t you?” He said breathing heavily, you nodded. You overheard him and Natasha speaking about how he wanted to ask you on a date but was too afraid to mention it.

 "So now that you’re here and we already hit second base how about that date that I was too afraid to ask you out on?“ He said laughing still supporting your body "Of course, you’ve stolen my kiss we must go on that date now.” You said winking not moving away from his arms because you liked the warmth “But if you get jealous like that all the time we’re going to have a problem.” You said sternly “Not anymore, cause I know you’re mine now.” He said kissing you a final time before allowing your feet to touch the floor.


Originally posted by thetony-stark

Bruce Banner:

You were working late at the coffee shop once again, you were so tired and overworked. You heard the bell chime and immediately went out to greet the customers but the people you saw weren’t regular customers it was your boyfriend and the rest of his friends “Hello everyone, welcome to Edwin’s Cafe, please have a seat someone will be with you in a minute.” You said smiling at Bruce watching his walk over to his regular booth seat. “(Y/N) can you come in my office please.” You heard your boss Edwin call, you made your way to the office winking at Bruce before he left, you didn’t need to look back to know he was blushing slightly. “So we flirt with customers huh?” Edwin said closing the door behind you “Um.. no .. what gave you that idea?” You asked innocently.

 "You just flirted with that man, but you never flirt with me. I see the way you look at me (Y/N), I know you want me, just admit it and all this can be yours.“ He said grabbing your hand and placing it on his member. "Edwin! What’s the matter with you! Are you delusional!” You said yelling hastily walking to the door running out of the room only to be hit by a rock, but not any rock, the Hulk, you bumped into the Hulk. “Shit.” You muttered the Hulk moved you away from Edwin but you tried your best to stand your ground “Bruce Banner, cut this nonsense, you know very well I am capable of taking control of myself.” You yelled trying to reach Bruce but the Hulk looked at you confused at the words coming from your mouth, you rolled your eyes and marched back into Edwin’s office hearing a violent roar behind you.

 When you had entered Edwin’s office you’d waited for the hulk to enter “Look Hulk.” You said slapping your boss across the face “I quit, prick.” You said and before you took your leave you kicked Edwin straight in his balls causing him to collapse to the floor in agonizing pain. When you turned to face the Hulk he actually smiled, you then noticed he started to shrink down into your Bruce “(Y/N) did I hurt anyone?” Bruce asked rubbing his head “No my love but I think I hurt Hulks sense of pride.” You said laughing wrapping your arm around his waist holding him tight to you “Wanda told me what was going on and I just lost it. No man should ever touch you because you’re my woman.” He said sternly looking at his friends who smirked at him giving him several nods.

 "Hey even Hulk likes you because he got jealous at the same moment I did, but I had no control of him.“ Bruce said nervously which caused you to tiptoe and kiss his cheek "I love that both sides of you love me the same.” You said smiling at him as he wrapped his arm around you “Yeah.. me too..” he said softly in your ear.

Originally posted by kallian91

Vision:

You couldn’t be completely upset at him, he didn’t know the human customs, he was a walking computer and yet you still felt a pang of pain that he didn’t do anything to help you. You sighed as you wrapped yourself with the ace bandages when you heard a knock on your door and before you could answer you see Vision floating in front of you “Yes, Vision?” You said not even bothering to look at him “You’re upset, why?” He asked sitting right beside you on your bed “I am not upset what gave you that idea.” You lied through your teeth but you knew it was to no prevail because he knew you, he knew all about you. “You’re upset because I didn’t defend you, am I correct?” Vision said looking at you “Yes. I am.” You said finishing up with your bandages looking at him.

 "Well I didn’t defend you because I’ve learned from you and Nathasha that women are not easily defeated regardless of the numbers, but you were hurt and I still did nothing to save you.. but I felt this wave of emotions that made me angry at you… well what is that human emotion when you envy someone?“ He asked while searching his database for the answer "You’re jealous of me, why?” You asked confused “Jealously , yes that’s the proper word. Well you are head strong, determined, kind yet cold, sweet, funny and an amazing fighter.. I am nothing but a piece of machinery that was created for mass destruction.” He said coldly as if he thinks all you see is a man of metal “No Vision you’re mistaken, you are more than a weapon, you’re an amazing robot, you know all the trivia answers, all the world recipes, and more importantly you know me inside and out.” You said smiling laying your hand on his shoulder.

 "Why is it that I feel so warm when you touch me, or compliment me..“ he asked more to himself then to you but you smiled "It’s a special feeling of a deep care made for someone who you truly care for.. some call it love others call it caring.” You said shrugging “What’s the defining line?” He asked looking at you with pure curiosity “I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it before.” You said looking at him. He was about to say something but you felt his hands over lap yours.

 "Well (Y/N) when I am with you I know what the feeling is.“ He said looking into your eyes lifting your chin up to look at him "It’s love.. but is it possible for me to communicate such emotions?” He said looking down at the floor and without a second though you kissed his lips that were rather cold “Well we shall just have to figure it out together now won’t we?” You said smiling looking at him nod in silence but his smile as radiant as ever.


Originally posted by dailyteamcap

Sam Wilson:

You watched Sam from the distance, you weren’t spying on him, you were simply observing his whereabouts considering he’s been spending an awful lot of time with Natasha. You weren’t jealous you were simply curious as to what he was up to and why he was always with her nowadays and then you saw it, something you feared more than anything. She fell into his arms and they looked at each other romantically causing your face to turn away, you were in such pain at the idea but now your heart was truly broken at the sight of them. You ran back to the Avengers tower not wanting to speak to anyone but you were stopped when you saw Sam and Natasha sitting at the front speaks “Care to explain why you felt the need to spy on me?” Sam asked crossing his arms over “Care to explain why you’re cheating on me?” you snapped at him causing him and Nathasha to start laughing.

 “Of course you would think I was cheating. Goodness woman you have no trust in me.” he said shuffling in his pockets “There’s no point in lying to me, I saw you.” you said turning your back towards him “Want to know why I’ve been sneaking off with Nathasha? Turn around and look at me and then you’ll get your answer.” he said smoothly causing your interest to peak which led you to turn around to see Sam down on his knee with a beautiful box in his hands while Natasha stood over him with a sign that read “Will you be mine?” Natasha had a bright smile plastered on her face truly excited “We’ve been sneaking around because I wanted to find you the perfect ring for your perfect finger. When she fell in my arms we planned that because we knew you watching babe, nothing more.” he said smiling “So what do you say? Will you marry me?” he asked hopeful. You had no words so you nodded and wrapped your arms around him crying softly as he placed the ring on your finger “Always jumping to conclusions.” he said kissing your forehead laughing.

Originally posted by theavengers

Scott Lang:

You were playing with your dog, Rocco and noticed Scott looking at you leaning on the counter “Yes Lang?” you said scratching your dog’s ear watching his face light up with enjoyment “You love that dog more than you love me.” Scott pouted looking out the window trying to avoid eye contact with you causing you to laugh “Babe, seriously? You’re jealous over this cute face?” you said picking up your dog while walking over to Scott placing the dog in his face, while Rocco licked him “No, but I wish you loved me like that.” he said petting the dog smiling.

 “I do love you baby” you said putting Rocco down now scratching Scott’s ear laughing “I love you so much that I sleep in your bed every night and wait for you to come home every morning from your Adventurous duties.” you say smiling kiss Scott’s cheek “So there is no reason to be jealous of little Rocco.” you said looking at your dog who had fallen asleep on the couch. “I guess you’re right babe. The dog ain’t got nothin on me.” he said kissing your neck laughing at himself while holding your waist tightly.

HiddleHamlet: A firsthand account (part I)

Okay guys. Here goes. I’m going to try to remember and describe as much of the experience as possible, so you can all feel a little piece of it too. This is your warning… this is going to be a long post.

Disclaimer: this review is going to be very little about the play, and very lots about how mindblowingly gorgeous and excellent Tom was in the play. If you’re not in this to hear a dissertation on that man’s thighs in his tight-ass jeans, don’t read further. I love and deeply appreciate theatre (this is the 14th play I’ve seen since moving to London 10 months ago), but this is tumblr and I’m not really here to be a theatre critic or to dissect various interpretations of Shakespeare. I’m here to drool over sexy men. It’s right there in the title.

So, to get that boring, non-thigh-centred discussion out of the way first - the play was seriously great. I enjoyed it hugely, even apart from the magic of Tom’s Hamlet (and somehow in spite of the distraction that was my brain screaming “HE’S RIGHT THERE!!!” for 3 hours straight). I saw a similarly intimate staging of Hamlet back in January, which I found… overly intense. This one was much better. I especially liked the touches of humour throughout, which helped to break up the heavier moments and moved the story along in a nice rhythm, and brought out the humanity and likability of the characters. The cast were all fantastic, and the sparseness of the stage worked well - the focus was fully on the actors and the words they were saying. 

We were sat in the front row, far stage left…which was basically on the stage. The theatre is teeny, with no raised stage, which meant the actors were walking by us close enough to touch. Being that close to Tom for an extended period of time was full-on exhilarating. When he’d run by us, we’d get a waft of air and could actually smell him. I didn’t get to last time, so I breathed in deep this time…and it was absolutely delicious. I’m sure we were visibly swooning after each inhale.

(I’m really sad that only a limited number of people will get to see this, and I know there’s been much discussion over the supposed “exclusivity” of this show, but I must say, in being one of the lucky ones who got to be there, that it was magical how intimate this was. It was immersive - a unique and beautiful theatre experience. I feel incredibly grateful.) 

Important things must be addressed, so: couch humping. Was SO FUNNY. It wasn’t a full-on dry humping (oh god…I just had to take several minutes to think about what that would be like. I’m back now) but rather a couple of energetic thrusts. Which was enough. This was met with laughter and tons of quietly imploding vaginas, I assume.

In this same scene (a great scene), Hamlet sits on the recently-violated couch with Polonius and laughs loudly with him. It’s rather forced (he’s putting on a show here), but also - seriously adorable. Because Tom. It gifted us with a huge Hiddles grin, which is so damn infectious (as you well know). In the third bout of this laughter, Hamlet dissolves into tears. One of the best things about Tom’s Hamlet was how perfectly and naturally he navigated the quick shifts in his mood - swinging wildly between grief, rage, lunacy, amusement, earnestness - and it all felt incredibly deft and real. Also, that man is gifted when it comes to crying. I think there were real tears in his eyes for about 75% of the performance. At one point, you could see the tears falling, illuminated by the stage lights. It was beautiful. I managed to stay seated and not run to throw myself on him and cover him in kisses, which was obviously what first instinct was telling me to do.

Okay…let us talk about how good he looked. IT IS GROSS, AND MAKES NO SENSE. My brain can’t compute this level of attractiveness, and I have no appropriate words to convey it. It’s even worse in real life. And truly, this is Peak Tom, look-wise. I missed probably large sections of dialogue due to thinking about his hair (I wish this was a joke). I could not stop staring at it. The curls are entrancing. It is perfection. I will cry when he gets a haircut. THIS IS THE HAIR HE WAS BORN TO HAVE. Also, THE JEANS. Holy fucking hell. I could write a Hamlet-length soliloquy about those jeans. Maybe it was because I was on the side, so I spent a good amount of time looking at the back of him, but…I have never appreciated a view more. Those jeans were, um, very tight, and I have zero complaints. I think I could actually see his thigh muscles flexing through them. I was equally entranced by his legs and thighs throughout the whole thing. My stream of consciousness went something like this: hair-legs-thighs-jaw-eyes-voice-words-legs-ass-kill-me-now…!

Yeah… his ass in those jeans. Specifically when he was moving or jumping around a lot. I leave it to your imagination.

Overall, there is truly just something about him. We have not been imagining that. His physical presence is undeniably, overwhelmingly attractive. He’s all legs and cheekbones and curls, and the way he moves is impossible to look away from. He’s so damn FIT. His body, his face, his every movement…it’s all just sex incarnate. I can’t be eloquent about it. What the fuck do you say about this. Just. Ugh. Fuck me up.

Originally posted by thehumming6ird

Will you look at this? GOD.

Wardrobe stuff: I love his new peacoat. It’s really nice and looks so soft, so he looks super huggable in it. I will continue to swoon over the upturned collar look on him - it works so well with his long neck and impeccable jawline. I also like how well he rocks the hoodie-and-peacoat combo. Really, is there anything that doesn’t look good on him?! Oh, and…there was no appearance, sadly, of the beloved grey boots (those boots are like a secondary celeb spotting for us by now). He was wearing dark brown boots through the whole thing. But they looked really good too no duh, so, no big loss.

Uh-oh… this post is already very long, and I have at least 26 more things to say about all of this. I’m think I’m gonna stop here for tonight and write a part two tomorrow. Coming up: tummy peeks, dancing, leather gloves and the opinions of the lady sitting next to me on Tom’s ass in those jeans (you didn’t think I was done talking about that yet, did you?)

Originally posted by fromhiddleswithlove

Limerence (M)

Anon asked:

“Hii gurl I have an idea for a Suga fluff or smut depends on how you feel like making it and I don’t know if you’ve ever made anything similar but could you do one where Yoongi’s y/n’s (who’s quite younger) brother’s friend and things happen between them, please? :3″

“Limerence; the state of being infatuated with another person”. I decided to make it slightly angsty (whoops) I guess that just makes the sex better. I didn’t get the part about being younger– I’m guessing it’s the reader that is younger, so…. Yeah.. I made the age difference 9 years (another whoops). I hope you like it, anon! 3.2k Words

Pairing: Pure-blood!Min Yoongi x Half-blood!Reader

Genre: Ancient Korea au!, smut, angst

Warnings: Cheating, moaning denial, fingering, Taking the Agust D

P.S. I made the reader/oc half-blood noble, so it’s not just the Korean people. ;)) I want it to be internationally compatible.

Originally posted by seokjins-wings

The day that you were born was probably one of the most joyful days for your father and 8-year-old brother, maybe not for your step mother – considering he had sex with a concubine to have you. You were the first half-blood of the family, and even though your father loved you dearly, there was still a small difference in the way he treated you. 

Whilst your brother was out learning archery and literature, you were sat at home, learning how to look like you were radiant enough for being part of the nobility. Unfortunately, you were not exactly fit for the beauty standards, so you had to try harder to look appealing to outsiders. You weren’t ugly – you were just not traditionally beautiful. 

You had an exotic type of beauty. 

That was one of the first things a 25-year-old Min Yoongi noticed about you when you both first met.

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