ignore the shit on the wall

The Signs as Overwatch Mains and Playstyles

Aries: Reaper, says hello before every kill and uses an emote after

Taurus: Lucio, stays behind teammates but within range to heal/boost, actually stays on the objective

Gemini: Sombra, goes around the map to hack every health pack, does nothing but stay invisible for the rest of the game

Cancer: Hasn’t figured out how character selection works, picks whichever hero is selected by default, throws a tantrum every time they get sniped

Leo: Tracer, actually plays decently, follows their friend into battle

Virgo: Pharah, targets enemies that shit talk their teammates in the chat

Libra: Genji, climbs walls to get into weird places, only enters fights to use the dragon ultimate

Scorpio: Widowmaker, charges right to the frontlines instead of finding a sniping position

Sagittarius: Hanzo and Orisa, goes to online forums to complain that Hanzo would be cooler riding a horse, also wishes Orisa was more equine 

Capricorn: Junkrat, does nothing for 99.9% of the match but somehow gets play of the game with the rip tire ultimate

Aquarius: Soldier 76, tries to get teammates to follow an actual strategy but is ignored by everyone

Pisces: Mercy, goes around to heal everyone but immediately switches to pistol and chases after anyone that attacks them

Not to be all “read Settlers” but a lot of white leftists are going at some point, to need to wrangle with the fact that white supremacy does have a lot to offer poor whites (not just material benefits like being called before black people for a job offer, but the social benefit of having a people to which you belong, the emotional benefit of having someone to see yourself as better than and of ignoring that people with their boots on your neck look like you, the ability to leverage at least one thing when you have no other leverage) and the material reality that a lot of the standard of living in the West is the result of ongoing imperial domination and mineral/labor/resource exploitation of some countries by imperialist powers like the US, and that no socialist revolution could take place and encourage internationalism without wrangling with that/without eradicating that relationship. You can call it Third Worldist and turn your nose up at it but these are practical concerns, and you see in many organizing models around white supremacy in particular this absolute refusal to acknowledge that all white people do benefit from white supremacy, even the ones who don’t want to, even the ones harmed in other ways by capital, even the nice ones, not just rich white people. And frankly, I think the refusal to acknowledge that is racist. It doesn’t mean that building class consciousness isn’t useful, but it means acknowledging that a lot of the people all of us are advocating for still hate black and brown people and will need to be dealt with accordingly, not pitied as fools fallen to false consciousness. This whole “white supremacy doesn’t really benefit you if you’re poor” shit has got to go. I’m not saying we give people a racial politics test, line the ones who fail against a wall, and shoot them, but you can’t just ignore this.

seriously though, I’ve noticed that bigots like T////ERFs, M///RAs and anti f///eminists always use the same tactic whenever you call them out on your bullshit.

“explain it to me then!”

“I’m genuinely interested!”

“I need sources and for you to explain your views exactly!!!”

spoiler alert: even if you DO this homework for them, there is no winning in this argument. sources will be ignored. they will tell you why your views are bullshit anyways. 

either way, it’s a trap. if you refuse to argue with them, because why the fuck would I spend my own time explaining trans-ness to someone with how evil trans people are all over their blog, they will take that as a victory. They will take an unwillingness to talk to a fuckin brick wall as conceding.

it’s like that old phrase with pigeons and chess…. you can try to play chess against a pigeon and win, but they’ll still knock over the pieces, shit all over the board and strut around like they’ve won anyways.

THIS IS NOT TO SAY that you shouldn’t ever educate people. if someone genuinely doesn’t understand trans-ness, feminism, etc, educating people is always a great thing to do. it won’t always change people’s minds, but sometimes it does.

HOWEVER, my point with this is that it is important to recognize a genuine misunderstanding and openness to other sides of the debate vs. when someone already has their minds made up and just wants to tell you how wrong you are. Like, if someone is asking for sources on why feminism is really necessary but their blog is covered with posts talking about all of those “femin*zi lying wh*res,” it’s proooooooobably a safe bet that they’re not worth trying to talk to.

save your time and energy for the people that are open to actual debates, friends.

Bruised (Richie/Eddie) 9/12

Summary: It’s 1993 and the summer from many years ago is dead and gone. Many have drifted apart from the Losers club and its at the point where there is no club at all. The atmosphere is cold just like the winter months and the only blushes to be found are the ones that are caused from the piercing spikes of cold that heat skin up. Being a teenage boy is hard; especially for the two boys that now count each other as strangers. In which both boys make a plan, but both disrupt each others.

Warning(s): Intimate make-out session, hickeys, parental abuse, angst

A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I hope it was worth the wait- if not then i’d be so disappointed sksk but hey ho, here’s an extra long chapter!

PART 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 (Soon) | …

Eddie continued to tend Richie’s wounds throughout the night, with the windows steaming up from the heat inside the room in contrast to the freezing air outside. After Richie’s warming words, Eddie barely formed words for an hour or so and solely focused upon fixing Richie up despite Richie’s protests to his cuts stinging and how he was being covered in superman bandages, but Eddie just rolled his eyes and chose to ignore the boy and his ways.

Richie had his head against the wall as he sat on the perfectly white carpet beneath him, he stared directly at his fingertips with a warm feeling in his stomach.

“So, you’re staying here, right?” Eddie asked, his legs folded upon his neat bed after cleaning away the first aid kit.

Richie drifted his gaze to Eddie, “I don’t have too, I just had no where to go.”

“You can stay!” Eddie quickly spoke, his words overflowing, “It’s just that I was wondering and, well, my Mom would flip shit if she saw you- so.. so I’ll have to hide you. We also only have my Dad’s old clothes, my clothes won’t fit.”

Richie managed to form a lop sided grin, listening to each melodic sound that came from Eddie Kaspbrak. Everything about the boy was phenomenal, overall outstanding. From his neat hair, to his messy mindset. From his soft brown eyes, to the crevice of his lips. Richie was in awe of what standards this boy had to even look in Richie Tozier’s way, never mind welcome him with open arms into his living space.

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A very long time ago @jennthereaper and @simplyn2deep both sent me this prompt, and I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long, but the other day I was finally inspired to take a stab at it. I hope you enjoy!

From The Way You Said “I Love You” 

#26 Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave

Please, Derek, please, I–“ Stiles chokes back the beginnings of tears and clutches harder at the sleeve of Derek’s jacket. He’s on his knees, having tripped in his scramble to get to Derek from the other side of the loft. “I love you, okay? And I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I’ve been a coward about this whole thing, but I love you. And I know you love me too. I know you do, and I need you not to leave like this, fuck, Derek, please don’t do this.”

Derek stares down at him for a long time, heart clenched in his throat.

And then he looks up at where the other Stiles is pursing his lips in a hard frown as he watches the scene.

“It isn’t real?” Derek asks for the hundredth time since the other Stiles, the real Stiles, showed up in this apparent dreamscape.

Stiles shakes his head stiffly.

The Stiles on the floor is still pleading with him around tears, but the noises of his despair are starting to fade, as if Derek were now hearing him from a distance. Even his heartbeat, a sound that Derek has been clinging to as an anchor for what feels like forever, begins to disappear.

Derek swallows and steels himself against feeling anything more than determination to get through this newest mess.

“What now?” he asks, tone clinical and firm.

Stiles answers him in a similar tone, his expression betraying nothing about what’s going on in his own head. A far cry from the Stiles that Derek first met a couple years ago, terrified and mouthy and young. “Now you wake up.”

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the boy who cried worm

my friends and I are fairly new to dnd and were playing a premade campaign. at one point the four members of the party split to examine four different coffins.

althea, the druid: I open the coffin (she fails her strength check)

DM: okay, a bunch of centipedes come out of the cracks in the wall and attack you

althea: *screaming* O WORM!!!!!! WORM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hadiya, the cleric: I enter the room to tell her to shut the fuck up

DM: okay you’re also being attacked by centipedes now

hadiya: O WORM!!!!!!!! WORM

hadiya and althea: *screaming* WORM OG W EORRM WORM WORM!!! JIAN WORM WORM JIAN!!!!!!! WORM

jian, the rogue: I ignore them and examine the coffin in front of me

he continues to roll investigation checks and completely ignores us as we scream. rietta the bard also ignores us and continues examining. we are still screaming worm

Heaven In Hiding

Summary: Nat decides that you’ve been single long enough and decides to set you up with the one and only Bucky Barnes. But what she doesn’t know, will make for an interesting turn of events

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (College-ish AU)

Word Count: 2223 words

Warnings: All fluff! Enjoy!!

Originally posted by fandomnationwhore

You hear her speak before you actually see her.

“Hey Y/N, you should try online dating.”

You shriek in shock, whipping your head around to see Natasha, millimetres away from your face. She laughs, grinning as she takes a step back.

“Nat, you damn near scared me to death! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You scold, crossing your arms tightly.

“C’mon, we’ve been trying to get you a date for a year now, the least you can do is try finding somebody by yourself.” She tells you, pulling her curly red hair into a ponytail

You snort, rolling your eyes. “What if I don’t want a boyfriend? Plus, my Tinder bio would be absolute shit.”

“Please?” She whines, dragging the word out as she grabs your shoulders and shakes them back and forth, “just give it one shot-“

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no, Nat, now go away and scare, I dunno, Wanda,” You sigh, turning away as you plop yourself down on the couch.

“Fucking spoilsport.” She grumbles, furrowing her brows in deep concentration. She seems to be muttering something along the lines of, ‘who do we know is single, who do we know is single.’

Suddenly, she looks up and flashes a brilliant smile at you, which makes you really damn worried.

“Ya know what? I’m gonna try set you up with Pietro.” She claps her hands gleefully, and you groan in annoyance, shaking your head.

“No way am I dating Pietro!” You protest loudly, flicking through tv channels.  

“Yeah, my best friend cannot date my brother!” A faint cry comes from the other room, and you look pointedly to Nat. She huffs, sitting down next to you and stealing your blanket.

“Fine, I’ll choose somebody else.” She considers, and you should’ve known that she wouldn’t have given up so easily.

After a moment, she blurts out, “Oh my god, I know, I’m setting you up with Bucky.”

“Alright, you do that… wait… did you just say Bucky?!”

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Frat Boy Pt. 9

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6,  part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8

IT’S BEEN TOO LONG FRATTY FRIENDS! Literally - Six. Months. Or longer. Here’s the RECAP if you need to catch up on your infuriating frat boy shenanigans in a fun and easy fashion! It’s been a while, and we’re learning about Harry now… be fragile with him. As always, please tell me your thoughts after reading! It takes a moment but when I feel people are involved in this project it motivates me to continue with it. Anyways, I’ve already kept you waiting long enough…Thank you for sticking with us. ENJOY! xx

18 Morning View Drive

Coast Hills, CA

Then, exactly an hour and thirty minutes later:

7 pm.

Those were the only things Harry had texted you. Just the address.

“I don’t even know if I want to go anymore,” you whined, looking at your phone once more before tossing it on the bed. “He clearly hates me and doesn’t want me to go.”

“I thought you told me he said you could though!”

“Only because it sounded like he had to! His sister was practically forcing the words out of him.”

Renny cringed. “Sister…Yeah I’m sorry, I’m still not over it.” You groaned at the reminder and she sighed in response. “Okay listen, just be yourself! Try not to hate him.” You felt your eyebrows rise higher than hairline.

“And this is coming from a girl who loathes him more than her entire being?”

She rolled her eyes. “I just think he’s an entitled asshole, but you clearly don’t otherwise you wouldn’t be going to the dinner. Now, nude pump or suede bootie?” She held up the two shoes she was gracious enough to let you borrow and you bit the inside of your cheek. You did think he was an entitled asshole, but… you were curious. So undeniably curious and how many girls could say they went over to a family dinner at the Styles’ house? Not that that was your primary reason for going but…

“Uh, Y/N?” she prompted.

“Bootie,” you said quickly, snapping yourself out of further self-analysis.  You weren’t sure if you liked the boy, but you were definitely… interested. Renny went to the closet and came back with two dresses.

You shook your head.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re a little…fancy.” You bit your tongue, not allowing ridiculous to form. You shook your head.

“Yeah it’s a family dinner. Jeans will be fine,” you reasoned. You plucked your favorite denim from the drawers and Renny gasped as if you’d smacked her across the face. “And a t-shirt,” you added with a smirk. She gasped louder and clutched her chest.

“No no no no no. No!” She raised her finger to you, stalking to the closet again, the cocktail dresses abandoned to the floor. “If you’re wearing these booties you’re at least wearing a blouse. God, who are you?” She plucked a peachy top and a blazer from the inside of the closet, but you snatched the blazer from her hands and put it back on the hanger, opting for the cream sweater instead.

“I want to be comfortable, not looking like I’m going to a business meeting ya dingas.” She snorted at the term and you pulled her in for a hug, clinging to her for a moment. She always seemed so soft and you weren’t sure if it was the Victoria’s Secret body lotion she used or if she was just blessed with naturally smooth skin.

“Renny?” you mumbled against her chest, arms still securely wrapped around her.

“Yeah?”

Your mind raced with hundreds of questions. What were you doing? Was this absolutely stupid? How do you know if you like someone?

“Your boobs are comfy,” you finally sighed. You knew she couldn’t possibly give you explanations for any single one of those things. She wasn’t exactly a love guru, but she was entirely the best at texting and the art of flirting.

“Thanks. Niall thinks so too.” You squeezed her tighter before it registered what she’d said. “Gross,” you mumbled, letting go with a laugh.  You only let her put the bare minimum makeup on you and she was just finishing up with a coat of mascara when there was a knock on the door. She stopped.

“I thought you said he wasn’t going to pick you up.”

You shook your head. “He isn’t. I’m driving.” Renny paused, listening, as if she’d be able to hear what was going on just beyond the door. The mascara wand was set on the bathroom countertop and she crept to the door. You weren’t under any illusions that he would swing by your place beforehand so you weren’t going to bother wasting precious energy on “what-if”s, though your heart still picked up its pace in expectation. The door creaked open at the last swish of the mascara wand.

“Niall?”

Expectations you didn’t want in the first place fell when you heard her voice raise in pitch. Of course it wasn’t Harry.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Thought I’d stop by.” His satisfaction at having surprising her was evident in his smug tone and you tip-toed out, not having had a proper one-on-one with Niall since the night of the party.

“You alone?” he whispered to her.

You saw Renny shake her head before you took a step out. A bit of guilt hit you thinking about the spontaneous kiss, but it was so long ago. I mean, you were going to Harry’s house tonight and Niall just came for some one-on-one time with Renny. At this point the kiss just seemed…a bit irrelevant. Renny faced you as if to gesture “see! Not alone” and his blue eyes focused on you as if nothing had changed. But then they did.

“Oh, hey Y/N, what’re you doing here?” he shrugged and shifted his weight. Renny was oblivious to the awkward shift.

“Um, I live here?” you crossed your arms, brows furrowing a bit.

He thought it over but for a second before he shook his head, lips quirking up in their innocent schoolboyish charm. “Right. Must be tired or somethin’.”

“Or somethin’” Renny teased. Niall poked her sides and she twisted out of reach, only leaning back again to smack him playfully across the chest.

“Alright love birds, I’m headed out. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye then,” Niall said, arm already sneaking around Renny’s waist. She mouthed an “OMG” to you at his display of affection while you tried not to vom. But when the door closed shut you couldn’t help but think about how natural it seemed for his arm to wrap around her waist.

—–

“OH GEE, THANKS for putting on your BLINKER - not. ASSHOLE!” you shouted, almost wishing your window was down and that the pompous senior citizen wearing ray bans at night could hear you. Since you were a decent and intelligent human being you put on your blinker and switched lanes, trying to follow Siri. Grandpa was driving a Porsche and he cut you off only to go 5 miles per hour. Your 1990 Chevy Cavaleir was driving faster than that and he thinks he can cut you off just because he has a better- you exhaled hard through your nostrils.  No. He wasn’t worth it.  You’d left in plenty of time, 30 minutes early actually, even though it’d only take about 20 to get there.

The only problem was your phone was verifiably ancient and your navigation was the slowest thing known to man. Once you’d gotten off the freeway, you’d made three wrong turns because your navigation was being ditzy and not telling you how close 600 feet was. And now the entitled drivers of Coast Hills decided you’d be okay with them cutting! you! off! Your hands squeezed the steering wheel a little too tight.

The ocean hugged your side on the highway for another five minutes, but each glimpse you tried to steal to it was futile. It was dark, an expansive pitch-black body stretching as far as your eyes- well, couldn’t see. It left you with a chilling feeling as you turned up the winding hills to the mansions waiting at the top. They were nestled all along the drive up, though hidden by hedges and various gates, and at the very tops all you could see were their lights already glistening, making the hills twinkle with light. Perhaps tonight they could see the water better from their perch above, but a part of you doubted it. No matter which way you tried to look at it, darkness somehow refused to be penetrated.

But you bet it looked gorgeous when the sun came up.

In 200 feet, make a right on Coast Hills Drive.

“Shit,” you cursed, quickly getting in the right lane and ignoring the honk of a horn. You didn’t have time to put on your blinker and as soon as you slammed on the accelerator to turn, you were slamming on the brakes. The iron gates were intimidatingly high and the guard that hopped out of his security room didn’t look amused. A mounted sign read “Coast Homes” behind a trickling waterfall that fell against a stone wall and massive palm trees stood beside it. And then there was you.

A knock on your window practically had you jumping out of your skin.

“Are you lost?” the guard asked. It looked as if his mouth was already open to give you directions, hands raising to point you someplace else, but you shook your head.

“No, not lost.” And his mouth closed at your words, hands quickly dropping to his sides and confirming your suspicions.

“Are you here to see someone then?” he prompted.

“Harry. Uh, Harry Styles.” A slight buzz ran through you saying those words. You were here to see him. You were actually invited to the Harry’s house. Oh god, what if you saw his bedroom?

His eyes narrowed a bit at the name.

“I mean, I’m here to see his family?” you suddenly clarified. As if it were necessary. As if he wouldn’t believe that you were here to see him alone. It didn’t make it much more believable though.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

He looked to the back of your car to check the license plate and you felt a twinge of annoyance. “Pull up then.” He used two fingers to beckon you forward before quickly jogging to the security room. You stopped closer to the gate and he scrolled through the computer with a furrowed brow, clucking when he found your name. “You’re here.” But it sounded like “wish you weren’t.” The heavy mechanics of the printer and a dull screech sounded as something printed, and he plucked a sheet of paper from the machine, holding it out to you.

“This is your pass. It’ll last until tomorrow in case you spend the night so don’t worry about tickets or anything like that as long as this is properly displayed on your dash.” He tapped your windshield as if you weren’t aware where your dash was located and you smiled.

“Thank you, it’ll only be for a few hours- tops.”

He nodded and then, as if you were old friends and he was admitting you into a secret club of his, said quietly, “Their visitors don’t usually last too long.” He straightened up instantly, his moment of gossiping weakness vanished with his once-again professional posture. He gave you a nod. “Have a good night!” The gate opened and you called out a quick thank you before entering the most brilliant display of wealth you’d ever seen.

Lawns were perfectly manicured as you passed, some opting for Mediterranean fashions and others expansive Spanish villas with imported tropical plants. Most cars you assumed were inside of the mansions in their garages, but the ones that weren’t inside weren’t any less impressive. “Ferrari, Porsche, oh! Tesla,” you muttered. It was like all the fancy cars you’d ever seen in passing on the highway had the same destination. Here. You stopped counting how many you saw on your hand when you got to 14. And the houses… they were the largest you’d ever seen. They were more like hotels than mere houses.

You’d seen glimpses from below, and recalled the many times you’d stare up at them dreamily on late night cruises to get back home from work, the lights beautifully transforming the hilltops and making you feel like it was an early Christmas. From below you seemed to forget how massive they would be in person.  How they hinted at lives being lived just out of reach. Staring at them up close now, you somehow felt they were even more so.

Make a right on Morning View Drive, then, in 500 feet, your destination is on your right.

You swallowed hard despite yourself as you turned right, suddenly thinking that Renny’s idea of a dress wasn’t that ridiculous of an outfit. But it was too late now, especially when you drove down a street just as manicured as the rest, but somehow seemed wider. The streets alone…They were about twice- no, three times the size of your own in width. And the houses were separated far from each other, far enough that one property easily took up the space of four large houses. You tried to zero in on the numbers along the houses – only to realize they were hidden. By gates. More gates? What were they hiding in there, the Crown jewels?

Your destination is on your right.

Your body jolted forward as your twitchy legs hit the brakes too hard and your car started drifting forward again as your foot relaxed.

Another jolt to stop before you ran into the mailbox.

You couldn’t see a number, but you didn’t think you had too. Forget the other houses - this was the largest home you’d ever seen, fitting for how well known the Styles family was. It was a Spanish Mediterranean style mansion with golden lanterns adorning windows and balconies…and this was just what you could see from what was rising above the iron gate surrounding the property. It sat prominently in the middle of the street, both intimidating and more striking than any of its neighbors, and the largest too – your gaze ran all the way down the gate; it took up the rest of the street until the end of the hill where it’d drop off into a deep valley and eventually run straight into the ocean. You’d seen that view from the highway a thousand times, but it was different to be on the other side of it now. You knew the Styles were rich, but you didn’t think they owned an entire coastal hilltop.  

You awkwardly repositioned the car and drove up to the callbox, but paused, looking to your purse hesitantly. Should you just call Harry on his cell? You rolled your eyes and leant out to press the little call button and the buzz that instantly droned in the air made your hand recoil in a snap and left your mouth suddenly very dry. This was real. This was happening.

Awesome.

You swallowed hard, trying to convince yourself you shouldn’t peel out of his driveway and drive straight back home to Renny and your ducky pajama shorts.

The droning stopped, and a long high-pitched beeeeeep sounded, which triggered the gates. There was muffling on the other end of the line as the iron gates started peeling back, and you could’ve sworn you heard a voice say, “Is that her?” Your hands were mildly shaking as they reached to put the car back in drive, from fear? Excitement? Admittedly, a bit of both.

You drove up the cobblestone drive through a yard lush with tropical plants that had to have been imported, but your gaze was quickly stolen by the resort-like property you’d be entering at any moment. Columns stood tall and the encased chandelier emitted a warm glow where the intricate glass doorway stood. The click of your booties walking along the cobblestone seemed loud as you walked to the front and tentatively raised a hand to the door. You knocked softly for fear the intricate glass would break, though it did seem expensive and thick enough…

You looked back to the only car in the driveway – yours. Their cars were probably hidden and well-kept from the elements in one of the three garages you’d parked in front of. The dent you’d received from last year’s fender-bender was still obvious even in this dim lighting. The crickets seemed peaceful tonight.

“Welcome!”

You turned sharply at the high-pitched voice to see Gemma. She held a full champagne flute in her hand, and leant a bit on the dark wood rim of the door, looking every bit as beautiful as you’d remembered – more so, now that you saw the cocktail dress she was wearing.

“Hi!” you mirrored her enthusiasm.  She ushered you in, not noticing it was a mere mask for how totally unprepared you felt. “Was I, uh, was this like a formal occasion?” you whispered, eyes darting down the long hall. The blank stare she gave you made your anxiety about being the most awkward human bean rise to new levels.

“What, formal?” Gemma looked baffled for a moment. “Oh! No, not at all. All my other clothes are dirty and I’ve been refusing for Sven or Eli to do them.” She took in your lost eyes. “The house maids- or, housemen? Not sure which,” she clarified. Her eyes quickly darted over your cardigan and jeans. “You look wonderful by the way. Dinner’s only just begun, I promise.” You smiled warmly at her, suddenly becoming aware of the chatter and silverware scraping the plates. A grand piano sat in the entrance, and there was a surprising amount of marble for the Spanish exterior of the house. Chandeliers lined the tall ceilings all the way down and some orchestra music you weren’t sophisticated enough to name filled the air.

She started walking down the hall, and you trailed behind her, your heart rate accelerating from the anticipation of seeing Harry in his home. It sounds weird, but you’d never been able to picture him at a proper house, with a family, with a childhood really… just the fraternity.

“Y/N is here!” She called out just as she turned the corner. Seven pairs of eyes locked on you and you instantly tugged on your sleeves. Especially when you only recognized two. Harry sat beside the head of the table, his eyes locked on the plate of food, and a surprise. Sorority Viv was beside him. You wanted to scowl, but you tugged the sleeves of your sweater down instead.

“Hi,” you put up a hand and braced a smile.

“Well we didn’t think you were coming,” a woman said. Her blonde bob looked strangely familiar and Harry’s eyes snapped to her when she spoke. Even from here you saw them harden.

“Oh..uh,” you looked down at your watch. 6:55. “I’m sorry, I thought dinner started at 7.”

“You’re fine dear,” the man at the head of the table assured. Mr. Styles you assumed. He had kind features and softened wrinkles by his eyes when he smiled like now. He was like a George Clooney and, even though he had gray hair, he was tan and somehow it was fashionable. But something was off.

“It was meant to be 6,” she noted, and her pearl necklace jostled as she leant over and placed her empty glass of champagne on the table and beckoned you to the seat in front of Harry. “Well come in! Please,” her voice sounded sincere but the thin smile radiated about as much warmth as a frozen potato. Gemma squeezed your shoulder as she passed and sat at the next empty one a few chairs down. You pulled yours out next to a fair-skinned boy with light dull brown hair and he offered his hand. It was like porcelain, so it was a little unnerving when you grasped it and found he was actually warm.   

“Charlie,” he said, and you realized he was the boy you saw kissing Gemma.

“Y/N,” you smiled. You looked across to Viv and did the same, and she returned it, if a little unwilling. She looked to Harry again, who’d busied himself more with food.

“Hey,” you said, but it was into the void, his eyes elsewhere probably looking at the thousand dollars worth of décor – your embarrassment was swallowing you up until Viv nudged him. He looked up, eyes distant, and they locked on your own for only a second.

“Hi.”

It was mortifying.

“So-” Charlie cleared his throat- “You guys are mates then I reckon?”

“We’re not sure what they are,” Gemma piped in.

“What do you mean?” Viv asked, looking to Harry.

“Yes, what do you mean?” Mrs. Styles suddenly halted the conversation at the other head of the table with the couple beside her. Harry’s face morphed into a scowl.                               

“Gemma,” he warned.

“Mary, please,” Mr. Styles sighed.

“Harry,” Gemma and Mary spoke at the same time.

“So!” Charlie let out a nervous laugh. “The chicken’s really good isn’t it?” He forked another bite into his mouth and you were envious you couldn’t do the same. Just like that, a gloved hand reached down and gingerly set down a china plate with the juiciest piece of chicken and capers you think you’d ever get the privilege of eating.

“Thank you,” you looked back to the kitchen help before he could disappear, black and white uniform and all. “You have a lovely home Mr. Styles. And Mrs. Styles.”

“Oh honey my mother-in-law is Mrs. Styles. I’m Mary, and he is Lionel.” Her voice was bubbly like the champagne she twirled around, but so was her friendly tone – full of air.

“Oh, okay.” You busied yourself with picking up the silverware before stealing a glance to Harry. His demeanor was different than usual, eyes glued to his food, cheek sucked in as he lightly gnawed on it. He was still, but .. sad? No.

…despondent?

“Did practice tire you out?”

His eyelashes fluttered at the sound of your voice and he looked up, lips pursing just the slightest. It was a miracle he hadn’t ignored you.

“No…”- a brief lift of his shoulders, a shake of the head, then- “No,” he repeated, forking a piece of chicken into his mouth.

“Yeah, you have been awfully quiet-OW,” Charlie began coughing and Gemma threw him a glare.

“Harry’s never quiet.”

“And how would you know that?” Harry suddenly snapped to life and the room dropped by ten degrees. She raised the napkin neatly to her mouth before slowly tucking it below her.

She took a deep composed breath.

“Oh please Harry,” her oddly placed laugh made you tug your sweater tighter to your body. “I’ve lived with you long enough don’t you think?”

“Long enough? Yeah I completely agree.” A sarcastic half grin spread across his face and something tugged within you that made you want to kiss it away. You heard yourself thinking and it made you sick. Kiss? KISS??!

You stuffed another bite in your mouth.

“So Y/N what’s the story here?”

You look up, cheeks full. Mr. Styles – Lionel, laughed a bit at the sight and his laugh didn’t make you want to cringe into your sweater like his wife’s. “Sorry darling, I’ll let you finish.”

You swallowed a little too fast.

“What are you studying here? How do you know Harry?”

“I’m majoring in Biology, but we’re in English class together.”

“Biology! I’ll drink to that,” Lionel lit up and raised his flute.

“Lionel’s the best doctor in Southern California.” Mary crossed her heart, and Lionel shook his head lightly.

“She exaggerates.” Her eyes narrowed slightly at his comment, but he continued, “If you ever need an internship or if you want to come visit one day…feel free.” He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out an extremely thick, extremely white business card as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “So… just class?” He gestured between you and Harry once more.

“Well, he’s also quite a good soccer player so I’m pretty sure the whole school knows him.”

“I wouldn’t say the whole school,” Harry started, but his eyes were fixed on Lionel and the way he broke into an easy smile.

“So we’ve heard. We’ve seen him play once or twice, haven’t we?” He looked to Mary who nodded. She soundlessly raised the napkin to her mouth again but she didn’t speak. “Yeah, he’s quite good.”

“Really good,” Viv crooned.

“Could you pass the water please?” Gemma asked.

“What?” Mary arched a thin brow.

“The water,” Gemma repeated.

“Water,” Lioinel mimicked the accent and broke into a smile. “You can’t ever leave Gemma, it’s decided. I’d miss your voice too much.”

Something snapped in you. He lifted the heavy vase of water effortlessly and passed it on to her, oblivious of the gears turning in your head. The accent.

Mr. Styles didn’t have one.

And neither did Mary?

“You don’t have accents?” It was out before you could stop it and the table fell silent. It was one of those awful moments when everyone’s brows were squished and slow side glances were given. And a nauseating feeling spread through you when you realized you might have said a very wrong thing. Viv nervously looked to Harry.

“What do you mean?” Mary asked.

Harry cleared his throat. “I mean, technically we all have accents.”

“He’s right,” Gemma said, pointing her fork.

“But you’re…are you British?”

“I am!” Charlie said.

“Yes you idiot,” Gemma nudged him, and Lionel laughed a bit before shaking his head.

“No darling, we’re from here. Born and bred beach bums.” He threw up the shaka sign in true dad-fashion but Mary tipped her champagne flute back.

Harry snorted.

“Never say that again.”

“Why am I embarrassing you?”

Harry didn’t bat an eye.

“Oh come on…Charlie smiled.” Lionel innocently looked over for support, but Charlie’s gaze was locked deep on his chicken by then.  

“You’re lying,” Harry shrugged. “You never go to the beach. Can’t be a host that lies to its guest can we?” Harry turned to you and you froze. “You don’t like liars do you? Cause I don’t.”

“What has gotten into you?” Lionel’s voice was breathless, incredulous.

The table fell silent and the two looked at each other from opposite ends of the table. Lionel set his glass down and a tint of disbelief reflected in his eyes.

“I’ve never seen you there it’s just funny to hear you say it,” Harry continued calmly.

“What’re you talking about I took you sailing all the time.”

“I’ve seen pictures!” Viv said, “Oh you were so cute in your little outfits, don’t you remember?” But her voice sounded overenthusiastic, keen to change the subject.

“Sure and how old was I again Vivvy?”

His retort was instant, the question harmless enough, but it was the way he said it that made Viv’s face instantly fall. For a moment, you even felt bad for her she seemed so genuinely hurt. Mary rubbed her mouth with the napkin so hard you weren’t sure if the red on her lips was blood or makeup. Do you speak? Make a mad dash for the door? Sorry, I didn’t sign up to be on an episode of the Housewives - gotta blast! Then you could throw the thumbs up sign to Harry on your way.

No. You couldn’t. You didn’t even dare to breathe right now.

Gemma watched wordlessly, just as much at a loss as you. More so, it seemed, for her mouth open and closed multiple times, but each time it was a hopeless attempt. Lionel rose his brows, took a deep breath, and leaned back. He looked tired.

Harry’s eyes had barely flitted over to yours before retreating again and in that brief moment you looked at him, it’s as if he realized what he’d said. His cheeks flushed, but his jaw was locked.

Okayy, someone woke up on the wrong side of his small fraternity bed this morning. But you’re welcome to come back and live with us. Have your nice king sized bed again…” It sounded like a nice offer but if you listened hard enough you could’ve sworn you detected something sharp.

“Oh funny joke Lionel,” Mary laughed humorlessly, slowly turning to you. “Harry’s always been independent.”

I wanted Gemma to reach out, to whisper a concerned Harry as a warning, because right now his eyes were dark, brewing a storm of blood rain from invisible scars he’d cut open himself. How deep did they run?

“Yes, funny, funny, that’s what we are,” Lionel said, but there was no smile on his face, he was rubbing the corners of his mouth with the napkin and setting it down on his clean plate. “Sorry about this.”

As if Harry wasn’t in the room. As if you didn’t feel as though you were in the most awkward position you could’ve been placed in, plopped in the middle of a tug of war you didn’t really remember signing up for. Were you supposed to be on a side?  

“Dinners aren’t usually like this, I don’t know why he’s-”

“I don’t know why we’re having this dinner. Are you done?” Harry asked Viv. Her plate was still full of vegetables and at least half the chicken.

“Actually-”

“Great! Are you done?” He turned to you in all his over-animation, and in his dark green eyes you felt a sudden sympathy. It wasn’t right what he was doing, but he could only be acting out for a reason. Or multiple.

Or perhaps he was a just a selfish petulant boy.

Whatever the reason there was a wild plead in his gaze and you didn’t want to disappoint.

But you were also very much aware of Lionel waiting for your answer.

“If everyone’s done, then I’m done too.” And in fact, your appetite had disappeared.

Gemma seemed close to tears, but she blinked them away and tossed her napkin. “Yes, I’m actually quite tired.”

Charlie halted his fork mid bite and with one look from Gemma he reluctantly put it down.

“Stuffed full actually,” he mumbled.

“Great, well, I’ll grab dessert.”

Mary rose with her napkin but the scrape of Harry’s chair against the wood floors made her do a sharp turn.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer as he headed to the marble staircase, footsteps loud as he jogged up them.

“Let him go,” Lionel sighed, and with it, he shrunk smaller in his chair.

“Harry!” she screeched. But he didn’t answer and with a turn at the top of the stairwell he was gone.

Everyone dispersed after that. Lionel received a conveniently-timed phone call to which he had to dismiss himself into one of the many rooms. Mary headed immediately into the kitchen but she never came back -

And then there were four.

“I’m-” Gemma bit her cheek, folded her hands. “Nevermind.”

“I think I should get back.”

Gemma looked at you understandingly, a sad sort of reluctant smile gracing her face. “Perhaps that’d be best. It was really nice meeting you though, and as much as Harry doesn’t seem to get on with loads of people, he mentioned you multiple times. I thought-” Her eyes got misty again and they glazed over the multiple paintings hanging over the dining table. “Nevermind what I thought,” she looked down to her feet but for a moment before that, her warm eyes had smiled at yours. You didn’t know her, not at all, yet somehow you could tell the warmth behind them was genuine. And you liked her instantly.

“Alright, I’ll just – I’ll head out then. Thank you so much for the dinner, it really was delicious.”

“Thanks for coming,” Charlie offered, swinging his arm around Gemma.

“Guess I’ll see you at school.” Viv appeared beside them and the unexpected head of jealousy showed its face again. Well, not its whole face. Just the tip of its nose as it peered behind the pillars of your heart, because would you really want to spend more time in there?

You were shocked when that tiny part of you said yes.

You were only halfway to your car when you heard Viv shout out.

“Wait!” You obeyed, feet halting as her fast jogging in heels made record time. She let out a breath. “Back there, what you said about the accents, it’s not like it’s a big secret, but um.” Her eyebrows slightly knitted together. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, I guess just so you don’t make it a big deal.”

“Yeah. Wait- why, did I make it a big deal? I really didn’t mean to.”

She shook her head, then stopped. Her head leaned slightly to the side and her eyes pinched as she pondered your questioned. “Maybe a little.”

She put her arm around you and steered you to your car.

“Harry’s adopted, it’s not bad that I’m telling you this because they don’t try and keep it hidden or anything it’s just – they don’t advertise it. And most people don’t ask. They just assume long-term boarding school or something. They don’t look into it.”

“Oh. Right.”

Adopted. Of freaking course.

“It was when he was young, seven or something. Uh-” She stopped, perhaps she’d said a bit too much. “But anyway it’s not that big of a deal.” But it sounded like she was trying to convince herself. She looked to you.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “Totally fine. I mean I’m sure his other friends know anyways.”

She smiled then, and stuck you at arms length. “See you later.”

After revving the engine, and drawing up to the gate, you sat there for what must have been a solid twenty seconds, throwing the engine in reverse and then approaching it again. It didn’t move. Shouldn’t this thing be automatic from the inside? You threw it in park and trudged to the front door again, but no one was moving inside the house. You tried knocking. Everyone was gone. Fantastic.

A miracle, one of the garage doors started to open and you walked closer.

“Oh good, I was about to be stuck!” you called out as the doors clicked back, expecting Gemma to return your smile from the other side. But it was dark and no one was there. You did see the shadow of three other cars though. Three very nice racecar material cars.

“Hello?” You called out. You swallowed harshly when you saw two brown booties.

“What’s going on?”

You felt like you should be the one asking him that, but you just shrugged your shoulders. “The gate won’t open.”

Harry stood expressionless before retreating to the back of the garage.

“Wait- where are you-”

The sound of the gate opening shut you up. “Oh, thanks,” you mumbled. You didn’t really know what else to say, and Harry wasn’t exactly making conversation, so you were silent as the clank of your door closed you in again. Back to reality. This night had been a disaster.

The spluttering of your engine lasted longer than usual and you stilled.

Come on grandpa!!!!

You twisted the key again but it was refusing to give you the satisfying thrum when it finally gave. You were so close!! It couldn’t give out now!!!! It could literally break down, say, in a total hypothetical situation that did NOT happen, when I’m trying to avoid human contact after being pantsed in front of hottie toddie physics professor but it CAN’T give out now.

You tried again but it failed.

And you tried again.

And again.

And again.

Harry’s figure approached the car window with a beer in hand and he took a deep swig of it before knocking on the window. You barely heard it above the spluttering but you gave grandpa a moment of silence.

You rested your head on the steering wheel before bouncing up again and rolling down the window.

“What Harry,” you sighed.  

“She’s dead.”

“I know.”

You got out and waited, crossing your arms while Harry ran into the garage to check if he had any jumper cables or whatever else he’d need to fix this. At least it wasn’t smoking.

“We don’t have any.” He sauntered over, scratching the back of his neck and looking at the car. “Can stay here if you want.”

“I can call an Uber.” You hit your phone’s lock switch but it was a black screen. DAMN you Renny for hogging the charger before you’d left. DAMN YOU. “Can’t. Can’t call an Uber. Could you call one for me?”

“Are you trying to use me for my money?”

“I- no.” Your mouth parted but it closed again. Was he for real? Was he….kidding? “I can pay you back you know.”

“Lionel won’t hear of it. He doesn’t trust Uber.”

“Doesn’t trust Uber. What is he? A binge-watcher of late night crime shows?”

“No.” An almost smile shone through and you crossed your arms.

“Well I can’t just block the gate.”

“No one’s going anywhere for tonight.” He headed for the garage again. “Come on,” he called back.

“Renny will be worried about me!”

“You can call from our landline.”

People still had those?

“Sh they can hear you these walls aren’t 12 inches thick!!” you whisper-yelled into the receiver. You gave Harry an awkward smile and twirled the cord around the vintage phone. “Mary picked it up at a Parisian market or something. It’s mainly for decoration but they got it hooked up just in case,” he’d said, only walking to the end of the hall to give you some “privacy.”

It was literally from the 1920s. You felt like a vaudevillian actress about to break into song about how she wants to live a normal life but mommy and daddy keep her locked in a tower.

“I DON’T CARE IF THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD HEARS ME YOU ARE BETRAYING YOURSELF IF YOU SPEND THE NIGHT THERE.”

“Renny- ! Oh my- ! Could you just- could you just LISTEN?”

“Let me call you an Uber.”

“Lionel already knows and they’re-” you looked over at Harry who seemed to be distracted by a painting he’s probably seen a thousand times before and you lowered your voice- “Apparently one of the maids is already making my bed.”

“ARE YOU ROYALTY NOW?! Are they going to give you complimentary chocolates in the morning?! Are you going to be giving him complimentary HEAD-?!!!”

“RENNY!”

Harry’s head whipped towards yours, but his lips were still set in his pout. You grimaced, putting your back to him and facing the end of the hallway.

“Now you have me thinking about the wizard’s wand. I literally hate you,” you grumbled.

“You know I’m joking. Well, half-joking. You can stay there if you want it’s just-” she sighed- “What is this, are you guys like dating now? Because the last I heard you were literally running away from him and wanting to punch his face in.”

“He does give off that effect. And no! We’re not-” your voice lowered more- “We’re not dating. My car’s just broken down.

“You keep lying to yourself.”

“I’m not lying to anybody.”

“Keep telling yourself that kid. Because the last time I was with you was when you were literally RUNNING away from him. But you’re going to spend the night at his house. Voluntarily. I mean geeze you’re giving the poor guy a headache you can at least suck his dick.”

She’d hung up before the words even processed.

—-

“This is the living wing, I dunno why they call it that it just makes it sounds depressing.”

“What do they mean by living?” you asked. Each word sounded heavy on your tongue, each sentence carefully constructed. It was weird to be talking with him when he clearly wasn’t in the best frame of mind. When you didn’t know if he’d snap and turn sour all of a sudden.

Though you didn’t think that’d happen. He seemed more sullen to you now more than anything, apologetic maybe, if a word like that could describe him. Think: a toddler after being scolded for something he’s done wrong. Eh? That image seemed to work.

“It’s where my dad keeps his…creatures. Birds, fish, I don’t know I never fucking go in. It’s also where their bedrooms are.” He poked his head around the hallway before muttering, “I guess.”  

“Oh okay.”

Your feet stopped following him when you met a tall window. Their backyard was….spectacular. It was dark and the twinkle lights only exposed so much, but there was a very nice long pool, tile patio with sunbathing chairs, and more green beyond it. The all black on the horizon you assumed to be the ocean.

You didn’t realize Harry was behind you until he muttered, “What’re you thinking about?”

“You know I could ask you the same question. Like at least half the time I’m around you.”

His brows squeezed together a bit but a bit of a smirk was starting to form. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Oh you do. You definitely do,” you started to laugh and back into the window to scrutinize him from afar. Because right now he had a very odd look in his eye. “You’re quiet most of the time,” you said softer. After dinner, you weren’t quite sure what was going on in Harry’s family life. But the longer the adopted word kept being tossed around in your brain and analyzed every which way, you wondered how many different dynamics existed that added or subtracted to their relationship. Take Gemma. How did she fit in? She had the accent too.

So, if you could make him smile by backing up and eyeing him like he was some sort of specimen than so be it. As much as you would’ve killed to see him unhappy a couple days ago, you’d realized you’d been a bit rash to run into conclusions. And yes, you had managed to make yourself look like an utter mentally unstable ass and a half. So you could cut him some slack. The night hadn’t been a nightmare for just one of you.

“Stop it,” he warned. But you started to circle him and you squinted one eye, putting two hands up to frame Harry’s face and the window with the warmly-lit grounds like a director choosing the shot. “Okay seriously. Stop.”

“Nope,” you popped the p, “It’s funny. I couldn’t picture you in a place like this before, but now I can.” You slowly put your hands down and you thought you heard him mumble weird.

“Oi. Did you just call me weird?” your mouth opened in playful surprise. His nose scrunched up at your over exaggerations. He was confused, you could tell. And he was probably being just as cautious as you were, you realized. You didn’t blame him. But he was so close to smiling. Soooo clooosseee-

“S’just weird,” he settled with. And his would-be smile dropped. A little bit of guilt struck you.

“What is?” you began slowly.

“It’s weird that you’re here.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Ouch.

“Why?”  

“Because I can’t picture you here.”

His voice seemed shy. He nodded towards the other end of the hall. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.” And he didn’t give you much time to catch up, nor time to feel offended, as his long legs were once again a disadvantage to you.

You weren’t sure how many bedrooms you’d been passing, and to be completely honest, Harry’s explanations of what each room was went a bit beyond you.

“Theatre’s to your right, sun room’s to the left. That’s the library over in there, elevator’s around the bend. Annnnd… here it is.”

He forgot to mention the multiple living rooms you’d been passing which had killer ocean views, or the full-on mini bars. Yes. Bars. As in numerous. You didn’t see much alcohol in them though and you wondered if it had anything to do with Harry.

“I’ll be at the other end then.”

“Of the house?”

“The hall, just there.” He pointed, and looked back at you with a funny look about him. “No sneaking into my bedroom.”

You coughed. “I’m sorry, was that a joke? A poor one but…Are you making jokes now?”

His smile faltered, but it was finally there. No matter how small or pained it looked. His eyes looked to his boots for a second before settling on your elbow, then your shoulder. Then your chin. Or was it-

“Right. Well. I’ll give you something to wear, just- stay there. Or don’t. I don’t care.” Harry turned quickly and disappeared into the last room at the hall. Your eyes grazed the hallway walls. He may not look necessarily enthused that you were there, but in this whole situation you’d felt like an outsider. And you suspected that was exactly what he needed.

Not that you held any pretenses to know what that confusing boy needed.

Not at all.

Or rather, none at all.

None were there to gather dust, to give you a glimpse into what he looked like as a toddler through to the awkward teen years. No family portraits hung. Each wall’s empty space was filled with a landscape painting of the sea, or the cliffs facing the water. Except for the power portrait of the Styles in the center of the home that looked out over their grounds - it was stark of any traces of family existence. The messy bits anyway. And instantly you compared it to your old stained carpets and walls with so many nails in it if you removed all the pictures and unscrewed the nails, you’d be left with hardly a house at all. This felt like someone had come in, staged it for a potential buyer, and that was it. Like if you opened the dresser’s drawer you wouldn’t find anything in it except for another nail or the assembly instruction manual.

You hummed to yourself, peering into your bedroom. A nice queen-sized bed and bamboo flooring. White canopy drapes covering what you assumed to be a window.  The only thing that seemed off was the ceiling. It had stars painted on it. You walked to the center of the room and looked up- there was a name there, inscribed in the center of the biggest star. You sat on the edge of the bed, twiddling your thumbs before wandering over to the ensuite bathroom. It was no less impressive.

A big part of you was wishing to be with Renny right now. Gosh you would’ve paid anything to see her face if she could only see the outside of this house. You never fared well when there was quiet, a lot of it anyway. And in a house this big, it was quiet. A little too quiet. And cold. Was the AC set to 50 or something?

Warm water ran down your face and you briskly turned the faucet off. At least Renny would be able to say “I told you so” tomorrow. Well, not about the blowjob thing. You opened the medicine cabinet to find some toothpaste, or face soap. The last thing you needed was another zit to pop through.

But there wasn’t anything of the sort. No no no.

Pills filled the cabinets. Some with labels, some without. You closed the cabinet. Definitely not toothpaste. Definitely not your business. But who were they-

“Oh my gosh!” your heart flew to your chest.

Mary was sitting on the edge of your bed, silent, hands folded in her lap. Had she seen you? The sudden adrenaline found an escape in an awkward laugh. “You scared me.”

“Oh I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.” She tucked a strand behind her ear and it wasn’t until your hip hit the door frame on the way out of the bathroom that you realized she hadn’t been looking at you this entire time. She would’ve judged you for that blunder. No, her eyes were fixed on the walls, then the ceiling.

Did she need help with something? Were you in the wrong room?

“Is this my room?”

“It’s my youngest’s room.” She looked up again, and her left hand seemed to be a little shaky as she soothed already straight hair behind her ear. You watched her closer and saw her body sway a bit to steady herself when her head lowered. You instinctually looked to the door, to an exit. Harry should be down there. Nerves suddenly held your body like they always do in a situation that’s unfamiliar, in the face of unpredictability.

“She liked astronomy!” She said suddenly, as if she’d just had an epiphany. She walked over to the canopy drapes and peered between them, revealing a balcony as she looked out. “I thought she’d like it. She likes the stars.”

“I bet they’re, uh-” your eyes shot out again- “Beautiful from here.”

She was quiet and she slowly turned to you, pointing to the ceiling. “There. Did you- didyouseeit? There.” She stumbled closer, still in heels, and you crossed your arms tightly, nodding even though you had no idea. You followed her hand briefly. It was the scribble on the wall.

“I picked it,” she said, finger sliding to fall at her heart. “I picked it.”  

“Jesus! Mary.” Harry stormed in, a horrified look on his face as he clutched clothes in his hands. They fell to the floor.

“And Joseph,” you muttered.

Harry’s eyes held no humor in them in the brief moment he glanced to you. It was hardly enough time to properly glare. But glare he did. And there was enough fiery gusto in them to realize that now was not the time.

“Jane,” she corrected. “Jane.”

Harry was struck still, and you watched as his eyes frantically observed. But when she was about to sit down again he spoke,

“What’re you doing in here? Y/N is going to try and sleep.”

Mary looked at him, her drunken emotional journey to the past turning sour. Her lips pressed in a hard line and she stood up, swaying a bit when she did so, but the level of composure she emanated was impressive.  She went over to him, passing you silently, and for an irrational second you thought she was going to jump you. Instead, she grabbed Harry’s arm when she was almost out the door. “There were two rooms Harry.” She tried to whisper it, but the alcohol had warped her perception and you heard everything.

She let her hand fall and Harry’s fist clenched as it did.

You were struck dumb, again. This wasn’t your domain, you weren’t close enough to comfort him if that was what he needed and you weren’t brave enough to interject if he needed a good slap in the face. You barely knew him. And the realization of that sunk deeper than you’d ever realized. You can get frustrated because of him, infuriated at him even, but you couldn’t be one to judge. Not when he seemed more miserable here than anywhere else.

“Stay here,” he finally said. And then he was gone, leaving you with a pile of clothes that couldn’t explain the half of it.

You stripped quietly once the door was closed, pulling the oversized plaid button up down that fell to completely cover your hands. It still left you cold, barely covering your bum, but your heart warmed a little at how he didn’t just give you a black t-shirt. You almost stepped over the sweatpants that were there before greedily snatching them up with a smile In your fanciful mind you imagined he knew you’d be cold in here.

Harry never came back. You couldn’t text Renny, or anyone, and you couldn’t be bothered with figuring out how to turn on the tv or to find a channel. So you lay there, looking at the ceiling. You didn’t belong in this room. Mary, even if she hadn’t necessarily said get out, still verifiably creeped you out enough so that you didn’t want to be in this room. You never knew Harry had another sibling. Not that you’d even known about Gemma until yesterday. How many other people knew him, truly? Why were you here now? What would you do if you opened your eyes and Mary was just sitting at the end of your bed again - watching you sleep?  It made your head dizzy and you closed your eyes. If she was there at least you wouldn’t be able to see her. But the scribble in the sky was still burned in your mind’s eye and it had your imagination roaring. You rolled over on your side, pulling up the thin sheet to cover your ear. The wind smacked a palm tree leaf against the balcony window and you jolted in place. You felt haunted, and it wasn’t like the sheet would protect you from anything except for soothing the little toddler in you who still believed that good always won, evil always lost.

This was an expensive home.

With probably more security than the local bank.

You were safe.

But you didn’t feel secure.

Your anxious thoughts continued like pins pricking your stomach until fatigue made it stop. You didn’t know the time when you fell asleep.

And you didn’t know the time when you awoke. The smacking of the palm trees was as bad as ever , and your nightmare had been worse tonight. The same sick one. A house in the countryside, peeling wallpaper that threatened to wrap itself over your hands if you leant against it a little too long, trapping you there when you needed to run from faceless creatures.

You were being watched.

You jolted-to in a cold sweat.

Was it 2 am? 3? You hoped it was closer to 6, to the sunrise. These days you cherished the times when you’d wake up at 4. You tried closing your eyes again, but the sweat soon chilled you enough to where the sheet wasn’t enough. You silently stood, walking over to the cabinets on the far side of the wall. The painted shutter doors squeaked when you opened them. It must’ve not been opened for a while because the paint caused the two doors to stick together and it only gave on the third tug.

What you saw stilled your heart. Because you didn’t find linens or a big fluffy blanket, and if you’d discovered this just a few hours later in the morning you’d probably glance right over it, perhaps it would’ve sparked a moment of confusion maybe. But now, in a big strange house in the middle of the night you surely felt a chill. And then you were booking it out to the hall.

His door was there. Just like any other door. But you paced around it a few times. He was probably sleeping. Should you just go to the downstairs? Just…I don’t know… grab a glass of water? Try putting on the tv? Like a normal person would? You raised your hand, but it fell just as fast. Gosh who were you?!

You couldn’t yell at Harry for being bipolar when you were basically the perfect spokesmodel. You knew why you were standing outside his door. You knew who’d make you feel secure. This was embarrassing.

But the door opened before you had to knock.

“You can come in,” he murmured.

“Oh,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “Oh you don’t have to-”

But when he opened the door wider you didn’t waste a second in entering.  

part 10

Animosity

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader.

Warnings: SMUT. Angry sex, hair pulling, spankings, slight Daddy kink, choking, Russian, name calling. I think that’s all. Steve is done with you and Bucky’s shit. You highkey hate Bucky but lowkey have the hots for him.

Word Count: 2135.

Rating: 18+.

Masterlist.

This is a request for @wingstakemeaway Thanks! I hope you enjoy it.

I’m also tagging my wifeys @sexylibrarian1 and @thecrownedrose 

@sebstanchrisevanchickforever19 @supernatural-girl97 


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charizard-z-deactivated20171015  asked:

34 with jimin?

Anything

Reader x Jimin

words: 2315

inspired by this prompt list.

Genre: smut

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

“Don’t look now, but Park Jimin is staring at you.”

You rolled your eyes and took another bite of your pizza. “He’s staring at you, Unnie.”

You knew for a fact that Jimin would not be caught dead staring at you. The two of you had been butting heads since the start of your junior year of college. You’re not sure how you managed to avoid him until then, but now that he was in your Fundamentals of Oral Communications class, you couldn’t seem to get rid of him. 

“Nope- he’s definitely staring at you.” She giggled, piling her food back onto her tray. You gripped her arm and sent her a pleading look, “I swear to God if you leave me to deal with him, I will lock you out of our dorm.”

“Good thing the RA has the hots for me then, huh?” She winked slipping out of your grasp just as Jimin slid down on the bench next to you.

“I need you to do me a favor.” He was wearing his Lettermans jacket from varsity soccer, his admittedly adorable orange hair peeking from underneath the baseball cap on his head. 

“No.”

He laughed, sliding his hand onto your thigh, “I haven’t even told you what it is, yet.”

“When have you ever given me a reason to do something nice for you?” You scoffed, throwing his hand off of you before finishing your pizza. “I hate you.”

“Come on, cupcake, just hear me out.” He whined, placing his hand right back where it started. 

You slid your tray away from you, throwing one leg over the bench so you could straddle it and face Jimin head on. You had learned at the beginning of the semester that it was best to show him no mercy. If you gave him an inch he took a mile. “You’ve got ten seconds to tell me what you want and then you’re not going to speak to me for the rest of the day, deal?” 

He bit his lip and grinned like he’d won something. “Deal.”

“10…” You cocked an eyebrow.

“Yah!” He laughed, “just wait a minute.”

“Look at the group of guys over my shoulder, but don’t make it obvious.” Your gaze slid from his face over to the trashcans before slowly sliding to his friends watching from across the cafeteria. “Mmm, you take direction so well, Y/n. Is it like that in the bedroom too?”

“7…” You sighed, completely over his perverted comments.

“I told them to point out a girl in the cafeteria that I hadn’t slept with,” He smirked, “Jungkook pointed to you.”

“4….” You kicked your other leg over so it would be easy for you to get away when his time was up, but it proved to be a bad move on your part. Jimin using your new position to his advantage as he wrapped his arms around your waist and scooted as close as he could. 

He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath hitting your ear as he talked. “I’m not really the type of guy to play games, cupcake. I wont lie to you and pretend that I’m interested in anything other than a quick lay. He bet me a pair of Coldplay tickets that I couldn’t get you to sleep with me, so like I said- I need you to do me a favor.”

You burst into laughter, Jimin pouting at your reaction. “Time’s up Jimin-ah, I’m not risking contracting some sort of disease so you can score Coldplay tickets.”

You shoved his hands away from you and went to put your dirty tray away. Coldplay tickets, ha! You were too busy laughing at Jimin’s antics to notice that he was following you. He didn’t know how to back away from a challenge and those tickets had sold out in a matter of seconds. There was no way he was going to let them slip from his fingers.

The next thing you know Jimin’s pinned you to the wall underneath the staircase that leads to the gym on the second floor. Your heart practically jolting through your chest when his body presses against yours. “I can make it worth your while, cupcake. Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

His brown eyes had darkened dangerously, the playful flirt from before having disappeared. “Anything?” you breathed. 

His plump lips slipped into a predatory grin, one of his hands dropping from the wall to play with the ends of your hair, his fingertips brushing against the base of your neck. “Anything.”

You bit your lip, Jimin’s eyes zoning in on your movements, before he swallowed. “Don’t do that.”

You ignored him, pulling your lip further in your mouth before letting your teeth drag across it slowly, your eyes pouring into his own. “On your knees, Jiminie, let me see you beg for it.”

“Holy shit,” he whispered, “you’ve been holding out on me, kitten.”

“Don’t waste my time, Jiminie,” you hummed. You loved the way the tables had turned. You hated to admit that your thighs clenched when he slowly sunk down onto his knees. The way he was looking up at you had you imagining all sorts of things you had never thought about him before. The real kicker was when he licked his lips and rubbed his face into your crotch with a, “Please let me fuck you, kitten.”

Oh if his friends could see him now. “Did I say you could touch me?”

He obediently dropped his hands from your waist and sat up straight, his eyes filled to the brim with lust. Jimin, the school’s notorious playboy, liked being dominated in bed. “Be a good boy for me, Jiminie, show me how badly you want to fuck me.”

His eyes darted around the area to make sure you two were shielded from view, before his hands slipped down to palm himself through his jeans. He groaned lowly and your thighs clenched together again. “You’re not as big as they say you are Jiminie, what a pity.”

“Is it because you only want me for a bet? I must not do it for you.” You sighed with mock hurt. He was actually huge, but you wouldn’t be rewarding him with that information. He had a big enough ego as it was. 

“I’ve wanted to fuck you since I first saw you, kitten,” he groaned, moving his hand faster against himself. “I wanted to bend you over my desk and make you scream my name. You knew you were teasing me in those god damn knee-high stockings.”

Shit. You hadn’t expected an honest confession to come out of him. You were only teasing, after all, just playing a part. For Jimin to have remembered the outfit you wore to the first day of class, he couldn’t have been lying. “I believe you, so for that I’ll give you a reward.”

“Listen closely,” you purred, circling around him so you were at his back. “I want you to show me how you touched yourself to the thought of me that night, because I know you did Jiminie, show me how you thought I’d touch you.”

“Fuck,” he sighed, rushing to slide his jeans down his thighs. You tangled your hands in the back of his hair, the hat falling to the floor as you pulled his head back so he was forced to look up at you. “If you guess right, I’ll let you taste me.”

He whimpered and electricity rushed up your spine. You felt powerful. It didn’t help that you felt a rush from doing this where anyone could just walk in and see. Jimin would be utterly humiliated to be found on his knees and begging in front of a girl like you, and for some reason that’s what was really getting you going.

Jimin was panting as his hand slid up and down his length. His eyes hadn’t left yours the entire time he touched himself. You could tell he was trying hard to fight back his moans, to fight for some semblance of control in the whole situation. You couldn’t have that. “Tell me how it feels, Jiminie.”

“So good,” he cried, eyes snapping shut. Each one of your words sent a jolt of lightening down his body. This dirty and dominating side of you something he never thought he would see. You hadn’t even touched him and he was already quickly falling apart.

“Come for me, Jiminie.” He panted loudly, eyes opening as he searched your face for some sort of sign you were kidding. “You were doing so good for me, don’t stop now. I really want you to taste me, Jimin.”

Jimin. You had said his name and his name was his undoing. As the white hot heat of his orgasm had him throwing back his head in pleasure you slithered out silently from underneath the staircase, opening the door to slip off to your room.




You fell asleep that night with a permanent smirk etched across your face. You couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it was to have Park Jimin eating out of the palm of your hand. Just one word and he was doing things for you he’d probably never admit to anyone. You had successfully one upped the fuckboy when he was supposed to be the one one-upping you. 

You were thankful your roommate was sleeping at her boyfriend’s house when Jimin came banging on your dorm room door at two in the morning. He was banging so hard, you were amazed your RA didn’t come barreling out of his room to curse you out and write you a noise complaint. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You whisper-shouted, jerking him into your room by the sides of his jacket. “Are you trying to get me kicked out?!”

“I’m calling in my favor,” he growled, slamming his lips into your own. You stiffened, your hands pushing him away only causing him to pull you tighter against him. When you didn’t give in he pulled your lip into his mouth and bit down harshly, causing you to hiss and give him access to slip his tongue past your lips. You moaned at the feel of his wet tongue against your own, memories of the way he touched himself for you earlier flooding your brain. 

His lips left your own long enough to ask which bed was yours, before he was sucking and nipping at your neck, leading you over and shoving you down onto your mattress. “You thought you could work me up like that and get away with it?”

“Undress for me, Y/n, you’re not going anywhere this time.” He’s got that predatory look on his face again and you rush to do what he says. You watched as his eyes raked over your body hungrily, tugging your lip between your teeth with anticipation. You’re not sure when your common sense flew out the window, but fuck it, you wanted him and you wanted him bad.

“Don’t do that,” he growled, throwing his shirt off and diving down onto the bed with you. His kisses were desperate, a clashing of tongue and teeth that had your head spinning. Everywhere he touched felt scorched with flame. If he didn’t do something soon you were going to go crazy. “Touch me,” you breathed, urging his hand down to where you needed him most. You whined when he pulled his hand away. He was teasing you on purpose, slowly taking his time as he licked and marked every inch of your skin. You moaned when his teeth tugged at your nipple, heat spreading through your body as your hips ground into his. 

“So needy, kitten,” he smirked from below you, sucking the skin along your hip bones in between his teeth as you squirmed beneath him. He slid his hand between your thighs, pushing them further apart as he hovered above your core. You groaned at the sight, so close to saying fuck your pride and begging him to just stop teasing already. 

But just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore his fingers parted your lips, his tongue lapping slowly as he tasted your wetness. When his plump hot lips pull your clit suddenly into his mouth your head rocked back against the bed, your hips bucking against his harsh sucks. You can feel your legs start to shake as he adds his tongue back into the mix, your loud moans unstoppable at this point. “You taste so fucking good, kitten.” His voice is practically purring with lust, his hands pushing your thighs down into the mattress to keep you from moving.

His words have you propping up on your elbows to watch as he devours you, the sight of his lips wet with your juices enough to have your eyes rolling in the back of your head once more. He licks his fingers, before quickly slamming them inside of you, his name passing from your lips in a curse. He wastes no time, quickly curling his fingers up and sucking on your clit once more. The feel of him pumping in and out of you mercilessly stretching your walls as he eats you desperately- had that white hot heat surging inside of you and begging to be released. You were so close already, but you didn’t want to come yet. You didn’t want this to be over.

“I know you need to come, kitten.” His breath hit your lips as he pumped his fingers even faster, filling the room with squelching sounds and your moans. “I want to watch you come for my mouth, come for me Y/n.”

You couldn’t hold it back any longer, your walls clenching tightly around his fingers as his tongue licked up and down your clit at a hard and fast pace. His name fell past your lips over and over like a prayer, your hands wound tightly in his hair as he watched you come undone beneath him.

He slid his fingers into his mouth once he had helped you through your high and licked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as you tried to catch your breath. “I want you to remember this, kitten, remember how wet you were for me. You might not like me, but you definitely want me, there’s no doubt about that.”  

Mind o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst

Request? No

Author’s note: This is part 3 of “Mess o’ Mine”. Read the first two parts if you haven’t already! Also… idk how I feel about this?? Let me know what you guys think.

Part 1: Mess o’ Mine // Part 2: Mouth o’ Mine


You hadn’t noticed just how close you were to Harry before your little falling out, but now you can feel the fingertips of loneliness clawing at your insides.

Bunch of us are down at the pub if you wanna drop in

You’re relieved when you receive the text, springing up from the couch to get yourself ready. You’ve messaged a lot of friends in the past few weeks and have barely gotten responses. Apparently you’ve neglected to reach out to a lot of them for months. Maybe you’ve been wrapped up with Harry and his new solo career. Whatever the reason, you’re disappointed in yourself.

It’s a half hour later when you’re ready and slipping on a pair of shoes. You lock the door as you leave and tromp down the steps. The pub isn’t too far away, just a fifteen minute walk. It’s a bit chilly out, though, dreary and gray with cloud-cover. Your arms hug your coat close to your frame, head down to protect your face from the air. The pub is in front of you soon and you press through the door.

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dear diary,

there is this guy i hate in school and i want him to stop following me and my best guy dudebro dick gansey iii around. he thinks he’s so cool and handsome in his aglionby polo and a tie and a nice shirt tucked in and his pretty blond hair but he is NOT fooling me with his beauty and i still hate him. i do wonder if he would go on a man bro-date with me just so i can make him stop nagging me all the time like the fuck twat he is. the idiot even pretends he doesn’t hear me when i tell him “shut up parrish” who does he think he is? i am not someone you can ignore and i’ll tell him, hey little shit you’re just one boring fucking cliché with your beautiful sandy hair and beautiful precious little hands.


p.s. gansey seems to like him and i cannot fathom why


p.p.s. did you see his smile? he makes me want to punch a wall

Ex-Friends [Part 2]

Pairing: Peter X Reader
Warnings: Language
A/N: Thank you guys for over 100 notes on Part One! I’m glad you seemed to enjoy it, hope you like this part just as much :D

Part One

-

It went on for a few days. You would sit at lunch and feel eyes on the back of your head, and when you turn around Peter would be staring, a slightly hurt expression on his face before he quickly looked away.

How dare he make it seem like you were the one that hurt him?

“Have you talked to him?” Your friend asked as you turned back for probably the tenth time that week after catching Peter staring. “Why is he acting so weird?”

“I have no idea,” you snapped, “He tried talking to me the first time you saw him looking, but I blew him off.”

“Smart,” she replied, pointing her fork at you, “You did the right thing. He was an ass for what he did to you, and doesn’t deserve the chance to explain.”

You nodded, though it still made you uneasy. Maybe you should have let him explain. But you knew you were only thinking that because of all the looks he was giving you. So you decided to put an end to it.

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Countdown

A/N: When I started writing this it was not supposed to end up this way, I prefer it though lol

Pairing: Theo Raeken X Reader

Summary: Reader fell in love with Theo way before she knew who he really was, he has just come back and she realises that he can’t know about how she really feels about him.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff

Word count: 2.7K

Originally posted by ksulenda

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[Werewolf AU] When You Pleasured Yourself While They Were Away and They Can Smell It On You (BTS)

Requested by a lovely anon <3

Feel free to send in requests (Fridays & Sundays, Central time) guys! We do Reactions, Preferences, Fake Texts, and Scenarios! Just tell us who you want, what you want, and how you want it! <3  (MalexFemale, MalexMale, FemalexFemale)

*Don’t own the gif/s yo*

Author: Taebaby

NAMJOON: He’d freeze as soon as the scent hit his nose and his face would whip in your direction. For that whole day, he couldn’t stop himself from nuzzling into you and breathing in as much of you as he can before he couldn’t handle it anymore, and would touch you himself

YOONGI: Yoongi would pop a boner immediately out of reflex. He’d be wondering why you didn’t just ask him over to take care of you himself but would none the less be more than willing as soon as he smelled your sweet scent

HOSEOK: Even if you took 3 showers, he could smell it on you. His pupils would dilate as soon as he caught a whiff and he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you, no matter where you were. He wouldn’t be able to hold himself back

SEOKJIN: He’d know the smell anywhere, and I think he’d be a little irritated that you hadn’t waited for him, but the need to consume that scent would overcome any irritation and he’d take his time in showing you why you should wait for him to take care of you

JIMIN: He’d absolutely love that scent. He would even get kinda upset when you showered after sex, causing the smell to fade some. When he smelled it on you after him not being there, his primal side would take over and he’d immediately get you backed up against a wall with his nose and mouth at your throat and his hand slipping into your underwear

TAEHYUNG: Talk about a frenzy, he’d be even worse than Jimin. He’d smell it the second he walked into the house and would immediately drop his shit at the door and start scouring the house for you. When he found you, it didn’t matter where you were, you were being bent over the nearest surface possible

JUNGKOOK: The smell alone would make his body shake and he’d have a needy hard on faster than you can say ‘oops’. He would ignore the fact that you touched yourself without him there, because of how clouded your delicious scent made his mind

Misunderstanding

Words: 3941

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genres: Angst/fluff

AO3 version

Summary: Before we could go back to being the best of friends, I had to only think of him as a friend. So this resulted in avoiding him for two weeks until he caught me in a club, backing me to a wall, and wanting answers that I stubbornly refused to give. I love him, but he shouldn’t need to know that, right?




The music drifted out of the club like a vibrating pulse. I could feel it in my bones. The night was alive with possibility. I could even imagine myself floating through the sea of people, forgetting about the life I’ve lived up till now but mostly forgetting about him.

Once I walked through the entryway of what I viewed as freedom, I immediately wished the sea of people would drift me right back out, or better yet, drown me.  

There he was.

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Confidential Couple

Request from anon for an Opie x Reader, where the two keep their relationship a secret due to the reader being Jax’s little sister.

Originally posted by stilinski-ortiz

You jump as you feel a pair of hands on your waist, ripping your earphones out and looking behind you. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry.” Opie grins, pulling you back into his chest and wrapping his arms around your tummy. “I’ve hardly seen you today.”

“I know, babe, but my mom is already suspicious. We’ve gotta be careful.” you reason, relaxing back into Opie’s chest and breathing in his calming scent.

He hums in response, his head nuzzling into your neck before his lips start pressing kisses to your skin, your eyes closing as you place your hands over his. “Ope…”

“Jax is fixing up some car, the others are out.“ he mumurs between kisses, your body slowly but surely melting under his desires. “We’ve got time.”

A bang in the distance makes you jump, Opie pulling away from you as you go back to sorting through the box of family photos, your heart beating a thousand times a minute.

When you’re both convinced the coast is clear, you huff, turning around to face your secret lover. “I’m sick of sneaking around, Ope. I don’t wanna be like this anymore.”

“What, you think I do?” he asks defensively, before letting out a heavy sigh. “You’re the one who wanted to keep us a secret.”

“Yes, because I don’t fancy seeing my boyfriend and my brother at each others throats.” you snap, regretting it instantly, though you do nothing to apologise. Closing your eyes, you run your fingers through your hair, frustrated at the whole situation.

“I gotta go.” Opie says, turning away from you and heading out the room. You shake your head at his retreating figure, grabbing your stack of photos before exiting the room, heading towards the main area of the clubhouse.

Pausing your music, you grab a couple ice cold beers from behind the bar, heading out to TM. Just as you reach the garage, bikes fill your ears, the missing members flooding into the lot.

“Need any help?” you ask once you reach Jax, him straightening up from under the cars bonnet, smiling at you in thanks as you hand him a beer.

“Nah thanks, sis, I’m almost done.” he replies, cracking open the top of the bottle and taking a long gulp. “Is Ope alright? He just took off, seems kinda pissed.”

“I’m not sure.” you lie, taking a drink of your beer. Jax nods in acceptance, Chibs, Clay and Bobby saving you from the conversation.

“Doesn’t look too good with the Irish, we need to be on high alert.“ Clay warns, Jax throwing the rag he was holding on the floor. “Get everyone here, lock down.”

Your mind goes straight to Opie, and even though you know he can take care of himself, you know you won’t stop worrying until he’s back. “I’ll go get supplies. Food, drinks, extra pillows. Any requests?”

“Can you get us some cigs please, lass? You know the ones.” You nod in response, checking your pockets for your car keys and cash before practically speeding off.

“Take one of the prospects with you!” your stepdad shouts, you waving him off in response, insisting you’ll be fine.

As you’re moving around the store, throwing pretty much everything in your cart, you ring Opie for what feels like the fiftieth time, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally answers. “Do you ever stop calling?”

“Do you ever stop ignoring my calls?” you sass back, grabbing a huge pack of toilet paper and placing it in your cart. “Irish aren’t happy, we’re on lock down.”

“Shit.” he says, realisation in his voice. “No wonder Jax has been calling me.”

“Yep.” you deadpan, walking down the aisle full of candy, knowing your nephew is going to be bouncing off the walls from all the sugar. “That’s what happens when you act all grouchy, you miss information.”

“I’m not grouchy.” he defends, though you can tell he’s smiling through the phone. That’s one of the things you love about the two of you, how easy it is to forgive and forget. “Where are you?”

“I’m just at the store near Floyd’s, needed an excuse to get away so I could dial you a million times without being questioned.” you reply, already feeling a lecture coming on from your protective ass boyfriend.

“Please don’t tell me you’re alone.” he says, you staying silent. He curses under his breath, keys jangling in the background. “Stay there, I’ll be there in five.”

“Yes sir.” you tease, seduction in your tone, before ending the call. You smile to yourself as you move from aisle to aisle, content with the knowledge that you and Opie are on good terms again, no matter the circumstances.

As you reach the back of the store, the varieties of ice cream making your mouth water, a chill creeps up your spine. You look over your shoulder, the feeling that someone is watching you too strong for you to be mistaken.

You grab your cart, deciding to get the fuck out of there. Of course, your instinct is right, a hand covering your mouth and yanking you backwards so hard you almost lose your stepping.

Your heart feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest as you struggle, your screams silenced against the man’s hand. He pinches your nose, cutting off your only air supply as you frantically scan the store, praying that someone, anyone, will walk up the aisle and save you.

You look down, seeking an opportunity as you stamp on the persons foot as hard as you can, glad you’re wearing boots as the man temporarily moves back from you. You have no time to recover as you abandon your items, sprinting towards the exit.

Just as you reach the outside you feel a hand latch onto your hair, a sound of agony leaving your lips as tears fill your eyes, panic and pain flooding through you. He yanks your head back, delivering a harsh blow to your face, your cheek throbbing.

“Fucking bitch.“ the man spits, his Irish accent helping you understand his motive. You try to free yourself, but his grip is too tight, your limbs too weak to fight back.

”(Y/N)!“ You almost cry in relief at the sound of Jax, you twisting to see your brother and Opie running towards you. You’re shoved to the ground, your knees scraping the concrete, a hiss leaving your lips.

Jax rushes to your side as Opie moves to the man, and you’re thankful the lot is empty as the two men start fighting, Jax raising you gently to your feet. “Are you okay?”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks as your body shakes with adrenaline. Looking behind Jax, you notice the Irish man is behind held up against the wall, Opie delivering blow after blow.

“Opie! Ope!” Jax shouts, finally forcing his way between the two men. The Irish man slumps to the floor, unconscious, as Jax pushes against Opie’s chest, the taller man deliberating on what to do before he steps back. “I’ll go see if any of this shit has been caught on tape. Take my sister to TM.”

Jax jogs away, Opie’s gaze finally settling on you as he takes you in. “Jesus Christ.”

He’s next to you in a flash, slipping off his kutte and helping you put your arms through the sleeves, warmth and his scent covering you. Your body feels exhausted, drained even, but you resist Opie’s requests to pick you up, knowing you need to keep your strength up.

He’s as delicate as anything as he places his helmet over your head, snapping it shut and making sure not to trap any of your hair as he does so. Once he’s mounted his bike, you settle behind him, you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his back.

Your body is heavy with fatigue as you struggle to stay awake, Opie’s natural warmth making you feel all the more relaxed.

You’re free for no more than ten seconds before you’re bombarded with questions, Opie’s bust lip being ignored once your dark purple cheekbone comes into view, Clay practically frothing with anger as your mom soothes you.

“I fucking told you to get one of the prospects!” Clay shouts, your eyes filling up again as Gemma tries to calm him down. “Why don’t you ever listen to me?!”

“Back off!” Opie booms as he stands in front of you, your fingers gripping the back of his tshirt, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep in his arms.

“Or what?” Clay responds, his voice eerily calm. “She’s my daughter, I’ll talk to her however the fuck I want!”

“Yeah? Well she’s my girl, so treat her with some fucking respect!” Opie roars, your grip tightening on his shirt as everyone falls silent. You step from behind your boyfriend just in time to see Clay lunge for Opie, Bobby and Chibs somehow keeping the two apart as they try to reach one another.

“Stop it!” you scream, everybody pausing to look at you. “Don’t you think I’ve been through enough tonight?!”

You angrily wipe your eyes as the group watches you silently, pity on all their faces. “Sweetheart-”

“No.” you cut your mom’s sentence short, your voice shaky yet strong. You shake your head in disgust, hating that they’re all acting like this when you could’ve been kidnapped tonight. “I’m going to bed, and I swear if any of you disturb me-”

You swallow the lump in your throat, refusing to break down as you turn on your heel, heading straight to the only place you know you’ll feel safe. Opie’s room.

About ten minutes later, you’re wrapped up in his duvet, wearing one of his giant tshirts and a pair of his boxer shorts. His scent is everywhere, and as much as you love it, it’s making it all the more harder to resist him.

Your phone vibrates, you fishing for it under the covers until you find it, a new message notification on the screen.

You alright? X

You smile despite yourself, messaging Opie back and telling him it’s safe to come in. He does so promptly, an apologetic look on his face as he sees your tear stained cheeks. “Hey.”

“Hey.” you whisper, your voice hoarse from shouting. Once he’s shut the door, he makes his way over to you, crouching beside the bed as he moves your hair around your ear, your eyes fluttering shut at the contact.

“I’m sorry.” he says, pressing his lips lovingly to your forehead. His tone is nothing but genuine, the look in his eyes the same.

“Me too. I didn’t mean to shout.” He shushes you quietly, a smile slipping onto his lips. “Can you come lie with me, please?”

He doesn’t even need to think about it, kicking off his boots and taking off his jeans before he’s crawling in beside you, wrapping his arms around you protectively as you nuzzle into his chest, feeling as if weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Jax knows, by the way.” he mumbles casually, his hand stroking your hair soothingly. You sit up slightly, eyes wide as you wait for him to continue. “He took it surprisingly well.”

“Really?” Hope floods your body. Maybe now you and Opie will be able to act like an actual couple. Well, once people have gotten used to the idea.

“I mean, yeah, he was pissed at first, but once he realised how much I love you, he understood.” Your heart flutters, a warm flush spreading across your face. Neither of you had even thought of the word love, let alone said it aloud, and Opie’s now nervous expression proved that.

Without hesitation, you lean forward, pressing your lips against his own, your hand going to the back of his head as he kisses you back, your skin tingling as if it’s the first time.

“I love you, too.” you say once you pull away, the words easily rolling off your tongue. “Thank you for protecting me today.”

“I’ll always protect you.” You kiss him once more, before relaxing back into his hold and allowing yourself to drift to sleep, safe in the arms of your lover.

A/N - Really didn’t plan on this being so long, but I hope you like it anyway!!! Been going through a bit of writers block so you’ll have to excuse me for the lack of updates, but I’ll keep trying to produce for you guys! See you next time ❤

anonymous asked:

did someone say bottom richie? bc that is my fucking SHIT and could u pls list any hcs u have for bottom richie

- richie would have to tell eddie he wanted to bottom because eddie is a little clueless sometimes

- he’d get all bratty and keep snuggling into eddie’s neck in public to rile him up

- angry eddie was hot eddie

- “richie, stop it”

- “make me”

- when they were alone eddie would shove richie against a wall and smirk at the look of desperation in richie’s eyes

- richie tozier begs hardcore, its a fact

“you think it’s funny teasing me in front of the others? acting like a little brat all day?”

- richie would pout in order to get eddie to kiss him but eddie would purposfully ignore his lips and kiss everywhere else instead

- richie tozier whimpers, a lot, also a fact

- eddie would be such a little shit to richie and would tease him to the point where richie is gripping at his thighs and nearly in tears because he just needs him

- orgasm denial, lets just leave it at that

- eddie would let richie fall asleep on his chest afterwards and stroke his hair and kiss his forehead, because aftercare is important guys