look i even got a dress that almost covers my tattoos

introduction into nu’est

Originally posted by hwangminyeo

debuted March 14, 2012 with “Face” under pledis entertainment

fandom ㄴ.ㅇ.ㅅ.ㅌ (pronounced LOVE from the way you spell Nu’est in Korean 뉴이스트) fandom color hot pink

did pretty well during debut promotions but popularity kept declining due to shitty promotions from company and lack of comebacks  

many thought Nu’est was near disbandment

4 members (Jonghyun, Minki, Minhyun and Dongho) joined Produce 101 Season 2 in hopes of proving their skills and saving Nu’est

all four members made it to the finale but only Minhyun made it into the top11 (#9) and got to debut with wanna-one 

other members ranked 13 (Dongho), 14 (Jonghyun) and 20 (Minki)

but they did not fail because they did prove themselves throughout the show and gained a lot of popularity internationally and nation-wide 

in hopes that they continue to gain popularity I am making an introductory to the members of Nu’est for the new and upcoming ㄴㅇㅅㅌ’s :)))

firstly Nu’est’s Leader

Kim Jonghyun (JR) 06.08.1995

Originally posted by sjkxy

Leader, Main Rapper, Main Dancer

talented affff

3 S’s Shy Sweet & Sensitive

extremely caring

blames himself for Nu’est’s lack of popularity

looks like onibugi 

cries a lot 

but only bc he loves his members and p101 children so much and he wants to do his best for them 24/7

wayyy too selfless

Nation’s Leader

cried bc other p101 trainees did a hidden camera on him on his birthday

plays like almost every instrument ever

speaks japanese

loves eminem

says he’s living his father’s dream by becoming an entertainer

too shy to speak english

humble affff

video game addict

brought a potato to school and talked to it like it was his child

says sorry too much

ren is his gf

camera slut always has to be in the shot

hates tomatoes

always gets way into karaoke 

wants to marry aron :))

next is the oldest 

Aron Kwak (Aron) 05.21.1993

Originally posted by awkwardshypersona

ft hungry Minhyun

Lead Rapper, Lead Dancer, Vocalist

real name is youngmin 

but he fucking hates it

from LA

is the oldest but isn’t the leader

for good reason

hes a fucking mess

an adorable mess but a mess

does radio shows

sometimes says things without thinking and gets himself into trouble

smart af

got accepted into NYU but chose to become an idol instead

learned Korean in 9 months

is a slut for his members

prob a closeted alcoholic

conceited 

high key gay for ren

mommas boy

ladies man

checks out girls even while on camera

thinks he’s cute and tags pictures of himself as #cutie

king of fan service

loves skinship

gets banned from twitter all the time bc all he does is follow fans

can actually cook 

has kissed ren and acted like he kissed baekho and minhyun

can’t ice-skate but claims he’s good at it

can’t say nu’est after all these years

hates horses and seagulls

can’t jump rope

has a crush on minhyun’s sister

is always 200% done with his members

“when I feel lonely at night I like lonnnggg hairrrr” 

ren: “rrreeaallly?”

claims he teaches the other nu’est guys english but has progressively given up

started the jr looks like onibugi thing

next is my bias :)))))))))))

Kang Dongho (Baekho) 07.21.1995 

Originally posted by omgongpics

Main Vocal

thiccc

can barely dance 

but has an amazing voice

looks scary but isn’t at all until he’s irritated

doesn’t get irritated easily but when he does gtg

is prob scared of ren

kang daddy

sexy bandit

really close to his dad

his dad has leukemia and dongho went to Instagram to ask people to donate blood to help his dad out

sweet pie

also hates horses

likes tacos

says he likes girls with “long hair, cute and sexy…. and a lot of money”

got his stage name bc he looked like Kang Baekho from SlamDunk

his stage name means white tiger

has a tiger tattooed on his forearm

2 more tattoos on his chest 

its hot af

has abs 

but gets too shy to show them 

knows kumdo and did it in his solo teaser before debut

again hot af

hates cleaning

won’t do it

has the most wholesome laugh I literally have a playlist of baekho laugh comps

if his laugh doesn’t make you smile idk what will

fought a drug dealer in Mexico bc he tried to start a fight with his members

strong af 

(saying hello on a radio show) “hello I’m baekho I’m fine thank you and you?”

has to hug someone to be able to sleep usually ren

sweats all the time 

he can breathe and start sweating 

a lil gay for Aron but kissed Minhyun on the cheek and is all over ren sooo

wants to be a comedian but only tells dad jokes

broke the lock on the bathroom door in their dorm once

says whats on his mind/what he feels

competitive but sucks under pressure 

sucked in school

lazy af

prob has the best English pronunciation out of the members besides Aron obviously

“I remember me”

has to pet every dog he sees 

called his parents just to ask to buy something worth like $6

talks shit to anyone and everyone

didnt mean to audition for pledis but went to support his friend in their audition and got casted lmao

is basically naked in the dorm all the time

but in public covers up like a nun

plays piano

always dies from secondhand embarrassment from ren

next is the model

Hwang Minhyun (Minhyun) 08.09.1995

Originally posted by nu-blessed

Lead Vocalist, Visual

tall af

skinny but buff

should and could be a model

can hit high notes like nobody’s business

extremely innocent

still hasn’t had his first kiss

at first pledis only wanted him bc of how handsome he is 

speaks japanese

has an older sister that Aron has a crush on but he said she’s out of his league

low key savage

(saying hello on a radio show) “hi I’m minhyun, I like you *kiss noise*”

loves jr

is in Wanna-One (p101)

only pledis trainee to make it 

cried when minki jonghyun and dongho didnt make it 

didn’t even celebrate his victory bc all he could think about was leaving his brothers I’m crying

doesn’t drink

“perfect perfect perfect”

don’t ask him to improv dance

ren said baekho was the most handsome in nu’est and he accidentally blurted out “no he’s not” lmaoo

likes american-korean accents aka aron’s accent

got lost in turkey

rlly likes elephants

always has body lotion wyd boy ;););) 

loves things to be clean

always fighting with the members especially baekho bc nobody cleans except him

bribes baekho with food

hes a picky eater bc hes a child

sucks at bowling

said “this is your mistake” to Aron bc Aron didn’t know their English titles

sings everywhere

“thats no-no”

skips practice all the time

sleeps with earphones in how tf

cried when pledis scouted him 

next is the maknae

Choi Minki (Ren) 11.03.1995

Originally posted by kangbaeks

Vocalist, Face of the Group, Maknae

is beautiful dressed as a boy and a girl

can rock long hair

actually any hair

made aron’s heart flutter when he was dressed as a girl

extra af

sassy af

on the topic of Mexican food he responded with “u know i luv u gurl I like mexican” and everyone in the room died

impersonated people drowning in an elevator from movie

minhyun said he had a lot of charisma and he said he was crying

ranted on how amazing and beautiful jr is for like 5 min on live radio

(saying hello on a radio show) “nice to meet you I’m ren thank you very much I love you too”

lady gaga’s number one fanboy sent her fanmail once

knows he’s pretty

can model walk

flexible

can play piano

thinks he can speak English

can’t

loves everyone

is actually terrifying 

does this thing with his shoulders 

so now he’s called shoulder gangster

not afraid to be embarrassed

can and will do any girl dance

can’t raise animals they all die

used to get mistaken for a girl all the time

members rlly love him

has a twitter

made jr sit in a trash can once

sucks at games like any game

amazing dancer

fell in love with baekho when he did kumdo for the solo teaser like same

is a lil bit of a loner

loves fashion

is a diva

likes nail art 

loves the movie titanic

hogs the bathroom bc he’s an ass

makes the members question their sexuality 

“how old are you” 

“I’m fine thank you”

likes skinship

says his older brother is terrifying lmao

snores


thats everything I can remember about the nu’est members pls support and love them

I want to talk about this whole “punching nazis” thing, which I have been thinking about for some days.

To start, let me clarify that I have no moral or ethical qualms with Richard Spencer getting punched in the face on tv. I’d be happy to see it happen again.

But I do have a couple issues with much of the dialogue that has emerged in the wake of this event.

A lot of the people suddenly talking about nazis right now are people who didn’t seem to even realize they existed in this country prior to this election.

A lot of people seem to have gotten some strange ideas about how and where nazis are typically encountered, or who they actually are.

So, I’d like to talk about some of the times in my life when I’ve encountered nazis.

Before I do that, let’s try to establish a definition. There are a lot of different stripes of fascists and white supremacists out there, with varying agendas and varying degrees of organization. In the US we’ve got many types, ranging from the KKK and Aryan Nation to various unorganized skinhead rabble to the newish group calling itself the Alt Right. It seems easiest, at least for the sake of this argument, to lump those all together under one general “nazi” category. But does that really make sense? I’ll come back to that. But for now, in most of the examples I will describe below, these were people who openly called themselves such.

Also, I want to establish a bit about who I am. I don’t like to discuss any of these things publicly, but I also feel like I kind of have to, to explain where I am coming from. So: I am Jewish, I am bi, I am neurodivergent. Due to this last thing, I have certain issues navigating the physical world. I am physically fit but not athletic. I have very little self defense training. By occupation I am a musician.

And lastly I want to point out that these examples are from 15-20 years ago and describe some of my earliest encounters with these forces to provide context. And I’m going to start with some clear cut cases:

I first became aware of the existence of modern nazis my first year in high school. This was in the suburbs of San Francisco. I had a few friends who were into punk music and culture. I heard about “white power punks” and nazi skinheads who would sometimes show up at shows. When I started going out I would see them every once in a while. When I started going up to the city, at that time there were places that were absolutely notorious for nazi skinheads. I never interacted with them, I always steered clear of them, and never really fell in with the punk scene anyway. But that’s when I first became aware that there were people in modern America who called themselves nazis and directly advocated for white supremacy.

To be honest I did not think of myself as their “target” because (in my mind, at that time) Jewish culture in the SF Bay Area was practically invisible and unlikely to be on their radar. In fact I didn’t think too deeply about who their target was. I mostly thought they were crazy people who loved violence and called themselves “nazis” because it was the meanest thing they could think of, that they were in favor of “white power” because it was so obviously wrong. At this time, there was fair amount of tension in the state around the issue of immigration from Mexico. But it did not occur to me then that there could have been any relationship between the xenophobia I saw expressed by mainstream circles in conversations about Proposition 187 and the blatant, violent white supremacy expressed by the skinheads on the periphery of local punk scenes. (also please note that I am aware that not all skinheads are nazis and that there is an anti-racist element within skinhead culture as well)

In college, in Pittsburgh, I lived on a store with a convenience store on one end. One of the people who worked in this store was a skinhead who wore a jacket covered in various white power/“rock against communism” band logos. He had a group of similar buddies that often hung around nearby, a couple of whom had aryan nation tattoos. On several occasions when I woke up in the morning I would find leaflets distributed up and down the block decrying the Holocaust as a “Jewish scam to make money”. These flyers were attributed to Church of the Creator, one of the more active neo-nazi groups in Pennsylvania at that time. Every once in a while I would cautiously engage in arguments with some people on the fringes of that crew of guys who hung out in the area. Things were sometimes tense but never got physical. Soon after 9/11 most of them disappeared. I don’t know why or where to.

While traveling alone in Slovenia, I nearly ran into a parade of about 40 skinheads chanting and marching in the street while I was on the way back to where I was staying. I do not know what specific group they were affiliated with but wore patches with the common “celtic cross” symbol used by far right/white nationalist groups all over the world. At that time, fascist graffiti covered Ljubljana.

Those are just a few of the more blatant examples from that time. These experiences were not rare. The KKK and various neo-nazi groups held public parades and rallies all throughout this period, and sometimes showed up as counter protestors or forces of violence at protests for progressive causes. They marched through downtown Pittsburgh - with the local government’s blessing - and many other cities in that region.

There were protestors at those marches, and there were people who fought the nazis directly, but the general consensus in mainstream liberal circles at that time seemed to be that nazis had the right to march just like anyone else, that any violence against them would be bad. It certainly wasn’t at all common to hear college educated, NY Times-reading liberals talking about the glories of “punching nazis”. This is a problematic but very complicated phenomenon: they were to be tolerated up until the point at which they’ve come into power.

But let me explain why _I_ didn’t go around punching the nazis I saw, during those times when I encountered them personally. To some extent, part of me did follow that logic mentioned above, but that’s not the real reason. The real reason is pretty simple: most nazis are a lot better at fighting than I am, they do it more frequently, they usually travel in numbers, they are often armed, and in almost every circumstance when I’ve encountered them the odds would not have been remotely in my favor had things gotten physical.

Richard Spencer was alone and unarmed standing in front of a video camera busily talking about an internet meme while he was sucker punched. This occurred in broad daylight in a very crowded, open area with a ton of media and police present. While I applaud the anonymous puncher for seizing upon that opportunity, that’s not really a typical situation in which one encounters nazis.

Recently, Richard Spencer posted a video in reaction to this incident. In this video he mentions that the Alt Right will not succeed if they are unable to be who they are in public. I’ve seen a lot of people pointing to this video as a sign of victory over the Alt Right, a sign that they are scared. I think the latter half is true but not the former. What Spencer is saying is that they are going to ramp up security. And I would anticipate that these people will begin to receive even more protection from the current administration.

So, this is one conclusion I’d like to leave here - in most cases “punching nazis” means getting involved in serious physical violence in which your life will be at risk. And that risk is only going to increase in the future. Fantasizing about punching some idiot talking about a frog on tv is fun, but I think it ignores the realities that many have faced and many more are about to face. And while many of us have disabilities that hinder us in this department, I think it would behoove anyone who is serious about getting physical with fascists to study and learn how to do so before getting involved in a situation you are unprepared for. I would also think long and hard before making that demand of anyone else. But that’s not the most important point.

I’d like to circle back to talking about definitions. The examples I gave above are obvious. These were people who, in almost all cases, were openly wearing the actual logos of white supremacist organizations. So let me bring up a different example:

About one year after 9/11 I was in Budapest, taking an overnight train to Amsterdam. I had a spot in a sleeper compartment on a train. I got on and a couple other passengers came in. One of them was a young guy, a little older than me (I was in my early 20’s at this time). He spoke English very well and we got to talking. It turned out he was an Austrian who worked in finance. Middle management at a major bank. He bought us a couple of beers and we were getting along. Inevitably, the topic of 9/11 came up. Seemingly out of nowhere, he explains to me how “there were no Jews in the building that day”. He then goes on to explain how 9/11 and the entire War on Terror that was then unfolding was all a Jewish plot to direct money to Israel’s armed forces. And hinted that the Holocaust was a similar plot. I tried to argue with him for a bit (without letting on that I was Jewish) but it was nearly impossible to get through to him, and he soon became surly and then passed out. I tried to do the same. But what caught my attention was that this man was well spoken, dressed conservatively, he looked every bit the upper middle class finance professional. It was difficult to imagine him in a street fight. No one would have described this person as being on the fringes of his society.

Up until a year ago, if I told this story to a European, or to an American person of color, they were unsurprised. But if I told it to a white American their reaction would usually be “yeah, well, that’s Europe for you”.

But that’s never been the case.

One common narrative is that many of the groups of fascists have figured out that they aren’t going to get very far if they are seen just thugs who march around on the street wearing in leather jackets getting in scraps. many of them have figured this out some time ago, and have been infiltrating mainstream education and corporate life. And yes, that is happening.

But there is a big problem with that narrative: it ignores the fact that many of America’s institutions and businesses are, themselves, organizations that promote white supremacy. Many of our banks, many of our police departments, our prison system, much of our media. Does these mean they are all “nazis”? Not really. But what it does mean is that white supremacy is not some outside force that just suddenly popped out of Steve Bannon’s suitcase. It’s been here for a long time. It is deeply engrained in our society. Fascism is not some new danger that we suddenly need to prevent from being “normalized” - for much of America, fascism has been the norm for a very long time.

Here’s my point with all of this: sooner or later, Trump will be defeated. This regime is monstrous, but I have seen the power and anger and sheer volume of opposition to it, and I do not think that this regime will last. My worry is, once this most obvious of enemies is defeated, the liberal establishment will go right back to completely forgetting that white supremacy and fascism are a major problem in this country. The sad fact is, even when Democrats in power, even when the POTUS is the most progressive sounding person electable, the nazis are still here, white supremacy is still here, fascism is still here. And not always on “the other side”. We need to remember that, we need to keep pointing to them and ostracizing them and speaking out against white supremacy and fascism even when it looks like things are more comfortable, because that comfort is a trap.

Skulls and Roses ☠️🥀

JUNGKOOK - COLLEGE AU, TATTOOIST AU. 

The best way to get someone’s attention is to get a tattoo or hit someone with your motorcycle. 

PART TWO

Originally posted by sugutie

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” you sprint across the quad, pushing past students and jumping over bushes and benches like a track star doing hurdles. The chanting of the curse word only gets louder and faster once you looked down at your watch once again and saw that your class would start in less than a minute and you were a mile away from the science building.

You’re too distracted with staring at your watch that you don’t notice that you’re in the middle of the street until your face is touching the rough pavement and some random guy is sprawled beside you. At first, you think that it’s a boulder that had fallen from the mountains that surrounded your campus but when your vision focused on the black lump you realized it was a helmet.

Keep reading

FUCK YOU - [ JIKOOK ]

Originally posted by gayjikookadi


In which you have the first sentence your soulmate will say to you tattooed on your shoulder, Jimin’s being “Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh”.

Even though Jungkook doesn’t have as bad luck as Jimin does, he isn’t completely satisfied with his “Fuck you” tattoo either.




Jimin had been only three when his mother had told him about soulmates for the first time. He could remember it like it happened just yesterday. That was how clear the memory was.

“Jimin,” she’d said, sitting him down on his bed with an intense look in her eyes. “In your life, you will meet one person who is unlike anyone else. You’ll feel a pull towards them - the first time you lock eyes, you will feel like you’re suddenly whole again, after feeling like you’ve been missing something, no, someone your whole life.

You’ll know them when you meet, but if you ever doubt yourself, a tattoo will appear on your shoulder when you turn five. The first words they’ll ever say to you will be carved into your skin until the day your soulmate says them to you, the very day you’ll first talk to each other.”

Here, she smiled. Like she was remembering something amazing, something special. “And when you meet them, Jimin, don’t you ever let them go. If you lose them, you will feel broken again, and you will lose your will to live and die. Don’t you ever let them go.”

Jimin had thought that the first words his soulmate would say to him would be beautiful and poetic, that the words he would get would be something he could treasure.

Boy, was he wrong.

On his fifth birthday, his whole family gathered around the little boy. On the precise time he’d been born, his shoulder had started to bloom with a numbing pain, just like he’d been told multiple times before.

It took ten minutes - twenty, tops - until the feeling had finally started to fade. That was when he got the courage to glance at the tattoo resting on his collarbone.

“Mom, what’s a boner?” He had asked, as innocent as a lamb, after reading the sentence. She’d gasped harshly, as had most of his relatives, then took a look at his shoulder.

Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh.

At the time, he had no idea what a ‘morning boner’ was, but as the seasons changed and the years passed, he found out exactly what it meant.

And Jimin started to wish that soulmates didn’t exist, so badly that he almost believed it.

Almost.

Because no matter how hard he tried to lie to himself, the truth was that he had the tattoo on his shoulder, and it would never change. And honestly, Jimin couldn’t help hating his soulmate just a bit for it.


***

Jimin pulled the oversized black and white striped shirt over his head and looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The shirt left quite a bit of shoulder exposed, and he sighed as he traced a finger over the words. The black letters looked harsh on Jimin’s tan skin, and it made him cringe.

He’d gotten used to the tattoo over the years, but his friends hadn’t. Because of his (stupid) soulmate, he’d become the butt of fifty too many jokes, and, whenever his friends laughed, he wanted to break the nose of whoever would be brash enough to say this.

Stupid soulmates.

Jimin had sworn, when he’d been seventeen and incredibly annoyed after a particularly harsh (but slightly funny) joke, that the first thing he’d say to his soulmate when he met them, no matter who they were, would be a big “fuck you”.

That was what he thought about as he squeezed a generous amount of thick foundation on his fingers and started to spread it on his tattoo. His friends were bad enough; he didn’t need any strangers seeing it at today’s party, which was being hosted but the richest and most arrogant brat on the whole campus. Probably the whole freaking world.

Jeon Jungkook.

Jimin didn’t know the guy - hell, he hadn’t even talked to him - but he already didn’t like him. He was handsome and rich, and he definitely knew it. Jimin only had agreed to go to the stupid thing because his best friend, Hoseok, had convinced him to. In fact, Hoseok wanted Jimin to go with him so he could hook him up with Yoongi, Jimin’s other best friend. Not an exciting prospect, honestly.

“Jimin, come on! We’re going to be late!” Hoseok yelled through the bathroom door, banging on the wood with heavy fists. It was ten o’clock in the evening, and Hoseok was eager to meet with Yoongi, who would (hopefully) be his date for the night.

“Shut up, I’m coming,” Jimin mumbled, putting the foundation away when his tattoo was covered up the way it was supposed to be. He unlocked the door and pulled it open, glaring. Hoseok knew he hated being rushed, and his roommate gave him an innocent smile.

Hoseok was dressed in black skinny jeans and a plain white top, a blazer and sneakers thrown on for good measure. Very billionaire-playboy-chilling-with-a-glass-of-scotch.

“Woah, you look good”, he complimented him, and Jimin’s glare turned into a smile. He’d parted his hair to reveal his forehead, and even though he wasn’t the most confident person, he felt good about the way he looked for once.

“Now, can we go?” Hoseok pleaded, with big doe eyes for effect, and Jimin sighed.

“Fine, let’s get this over with,” he mumbled, grabbing a pair of black boots. Hoseok watched him pull them on, and Jimin muttered, “Calm down,” just when he was pulled out the door.

***

“Oh my God, I’m so nervous, I think I’m going to puke. I think I look green, do I look green?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. Hoseok had been rambling for the past half hour, while they walked to the mansion where the party was supposed to be.

“You’ll be just fine, don’t worry. He might seem a bit cold, but I swear he’s all rainbows and unicorns inside,” Jimin said, doing his best to pry his best friend’s claws off his shirt (it was a gift, after all). He snickered when Hoseok kept muttering, ‘oh my God,’ as they arrived. The house was a mansion, almost as grand as Gatsby’s. What else would you expect from a rich brat?

As they made their way to the front door, Jimin started to look around. Yoongi had promised to be here; he owed Jimin a favor, which was why he had agreed to be Hoseok’s date for tonight. Otherwise he probably would’ve just stayed home, writing music in the almost-dark as usual (Yoongi’s dream was to be a famous rapper).

When Jimin finally spotted him, lounging near a wall with a stereotypical red solo cup in his hand, he grabbed Hoseok’s hand and started making his way towards the dark-haired man. Hopefully, he wouldn’t move before they got there.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, that’s Yoongi right there, oh my God, he looks so good”, Hoseok repeated the words like they were the only thing keeping him alive. It was a good thing the music was so loud, otherwise Yoongi would’ve heard. Hoseok was right, Jimin admitted to himself. Yoongi was dressed in all black, with a snapback pulled over his eyes, like in all of his rap videos.

Jimin pushed Hoseok towards Yoongi, who had noticed them and was now standing up straight. Jimin winked and gave Hoseok a thumbs up before he melted into the crowd.

He didn’t need to be a third wheel for the whole night. No, he’d much rather spend his time with some good ol’ shots of strong, liver-killing alcohol. Jimin wasn’t someone who drank often, but his choices were a) be sober and painfully alone or b) be alone and roaring drunk.

Not a hard choice, really.

He found his way to the alcohol and poured himself six shots with a smile on his face. Now that’s what we are talking about. He downed his first shot after he found himself a place to sit (he wasn’t planning on being in any condition to stand for much longer). From his spot, he could see almost everyone in the giant room. His eyes skipped over people until he saw someone he really didn’t want to.

The host of the party. None other than Jeon Jungkook himself.

Jimin scoffed. He was leaning back on the couch, girls and guys surrounding him with a girl in a silvery-blue dress on his lap. Jeon threw his head back in laughter.

He downed the second shot the moment he saw that stupid rich brat sucking faces with another student (wasn’t he Namjoon?). He was nowhere near drunk enough to see that. Another shot disappeared, burning its way down his throat.

A weird feeling bubbled in his chest as he watched the two suck each other’s souls out. He couldn’t quite give the emotion a name, but it felt a lot like… jealousy? No fucking way. Jimin almost laughed out loud at his thoughts, downing a fourth shot. They didn’t even know each other.

The rest of the night was a blur, but he was fairly certain he had ended up drinking way more than six shots. It resulted in some awkward interactions with other students, who were nearly as drunk as him, and of course, he had blacked out on the mansion’s floor before the party had even finished. He could’ve sworn he had seen Yoongi and Hoseok get along well. Of course, if your definition of getting along was kissing rather shyly in a secret corner.  

***

Jungkook saw the boy in the striped shirt the moment he’d walked in.

His silver hair that reflected the light perfectly, his plump lips that he bit when he tried not to laugh - every single thing about him seemed to draw him in. He’d come with someone who looked incredibly nervous, was that his boyfriend? His eyebrows furrowed, ever so slightly, and he shook his head. Why did he care? It was none of his business.

Still, his gaze followed him (wasn’t his name Park Jimin, or something?) intently as he navigated his way through the people in the party, until they reached a guy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere than here. The silver-haired male pushed his friend - something Jungkook had just realized -  towards the guy who had been leaning on the wall. He was short, like Jimin.

Jungkook watched Jimin slip into the crowd, the two boys left looking awkwardly at each other. He rolled his eyes. The two clearly liked each other; what was so hard about talking to each other and actually sharing a conversation instead of awkward, yearning glances?

Jungkook tried to find Jimin, but it was like he’d disappeared into thin air. Had he left? A weird feeling of desperation flushed through the Jungkook as he moved to sit on the couch, people crowding to sit around him. He spotted Jimin a few minutes after, sitting alone with a tray of shots in front of him. Jungkook watched him drink shot after shot, and grinned at the cute way he scrunched up his nose after every single one.

Woah, cute??

Time to move on.

Jungkook turned towards the group he was sitting with, mostly to Namjoon, who sat right next to him. Namjoon was good-looking, he couldn’t deny that, but why didn’t his dimples make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Why didn’t his smile make his stomach flip like Jimin’s smile did? Would Namjoon’s lips make Jungkook feel the way he felt when he saw Jimin?

That was what went through his mind as he leaned towards the platinum-haired male and captured their lips in a kiss that Jungkook found anything but passionate. He could taste alcohol in Namjoon’s mouth, and it most definitely didn’t make butterflies fly around his insides.

He felt like throwing up when he finally pulled away. That was their first and last kiss, Jungkook decided right then and there.

He bolted up from his seat and headed towards the bar - because alcohol was exactly what he needed to drown his feelings.

All Jungkook could remember after that was downing way too much whiskey, keeping his hands to himself way too little, and getting way, way too drunk.

***

Jimin let out a groan as he forced his eyes open, then let out another when he screwed them shut again. The sun was high up already, and the room  was annoyingly, incredibly bright.

There was an ogre in his head, kicking his brain and making everything tremble as revenge for last night. He almost wished he’d stayed at the dorms, cuddling into a fuzzy blanket while reading a good book. But the feeling of being carefree, being completely weightless, was worth the headache. And the nausea.

Jimin shifted to his side. There was something warm and soft, and he burrowed into that soft something, letting out a content sigh. That soft something smelled really nice, pine and cologne and something else, and he breathed in deeply.  After a few minutes of being comfortable, he heard a rumbly voice rasp entirely too close to his ear.

“Excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh,” the person groaned. The way his voice scraped around the edges made heat flood in his chest, like slipping into a warm blanket.

Jimin whined and nuzzled his face into the soft material, mumbling a small “fuck you,” as he did. A few seconds later, the soft something, or someone disappeared, and he hit his head on the cold, hard floor.

His headache split his head in half.

“Ow! What the fuck?” He yelped, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the tiniest hint of a pout on his lips. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he jumped, nearly six feet in the air.

Jeon Jungkook was sitting in front of him, all messy dark hair and eyes that sparkled in the sun. Jimin’s heart jumped into overdrive.

“What did you just say to me?” Jungkook questioned, leaning forward ever so slightly, which made Jimin lean backward ever so slightly.

“Um, ‘fuck you’?” Jimin suggested carefully, playing with his hands and looking at his lap.

“Oh my God,” Jungkook mumbled. Jimin’s eyes turned into saucers when he started to take his shirt off.

“W-What do you think you’re doing?” he stuttered, failing miserably at trying to sound annoyed. Moments later, a sigh slipped past his lips at the image of Jungkook shirtless, the sun hitting his skin like he was a god.

And no, it wasn’t because of Jungkook’s toned chest or abs, not even his arms or beautiful golden skin, but because of the tattoo on his shoulder. Exactly where Jimin’s was. Exactly where the soulmate tattoo was supposed to be.

Fuck you.

“Are you kidding me?” Jimin snickered, his nervousness vanishing. He traced a finger over the words, curling black on golden skin, and nearly smiled when he felt Jungkook shiver. “Does that mean you actually just said ‘excuse you, your morning boner is poking at my thigh’?”

Jungkook’s cheeks turned rosy, the prettiest shade of pink Jimin had ever seen, and he looked down on his lap when he nodded. For once, not the arrogant, spoilt brat. “Sorry about that,” he said, “it must’ve not been a very nice thing to have on your shoulder.”

But Jimin didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about any of that, anymore.

He had finally found his soulmate, his missing piece, and my God, was he beautiful.

“You stupid, rich brat,” Jimin smiled, carefully leaning towards Jungkook. His lips curved into a soft smile, headache long forgotten.

“You stupid shortie,” Jungkook muttered just before their lips met. It was like Sunday afternoons, warm and comforting, but there was a layer of passion, just underneath.

And Jimin felt a hole he never knew he had disappear.




(A/N) Ahhhhh the end! Such a fluffy oneshot i LOVE JIKOOK OK

ALSO special thanks to my babe @yoongsigh for the amazing writing prompt and to the lovely bb @quill-ink for editing this and making it 2356293859857 times better <333 ily guys <3 <3

anonymous asked:

Can we please have the Obitos from all your different stories meeting? It would be soooo much fun.

Oh god. I was not prepared for this level of crack. 

So! Obito = crimanals ‘verse!Obito, Angry = reverse!Obito, Vagabond = Stormborn!Obito, Long-Hair = Stepping Stones!Obito, and Green Thumb = soulmate HashiObi drabble!Obito, bc why not. 


“What the actual fuck.”

“Language,” Kakashi says mildly, but he’s half a step behind and practically breathing down Obito’s neck, one hand on his Glock and both eyes narrowed.

“Fuck you,” Obito retorts. “We just got sucked into some kind of alternate fucking dimension, okay, I am fuckin entitled to whatever goddamn cursing I want. Now I’m late for meeting Rin at the FBI, and I don’t think she’s going to accept alternate dimensions as an excuse.”

“A crossover point, not a separate dimension,” a dark voice corrects, and Obito spins around to find himself staring at…

Himself.

Well, that’s fucking awkward.

Granted, it’s not an outright copy. This version of him is dressed in a long black cloak with a high collar, decorated with red clouds, and has a purple-patterned white mask on his belt. His expression is tight with anger, and his two eyes are burning.

He looks a hell of a lot like the man Obito used to see in the mirror, and it’s no comfort at all.

Even less of a comfort is the big man looming just behind him, who is eerily familiar but also very much not, and before Obito can help himself he blurts, “Kisame?”

Kisame—with the addition of blue skin, a matching cloak, and a massive sword covered in scales—chuckles, apparently abashed at being recognized. “Hey,” he answers, grinning, and casts a look up and down Obito’s body. Coming from his Kisame, Obito would probably return the look with a knife, but this one doesn’t seem to have quite the edge of cheerfully menacing lechery he’s familiar with.

Before he can say anything, though, Kakashi takes a step to the side, then one in front of him, and warns in his politest voice, “If you keep looking at my husband like you want to eat him, I might take offense.”

Blue Kisame blinks, eyes widening, even as Angry Obito stops dead, eyes widening. “Husband?” he repeats incredulously, and black eyes flicker between Obito and Kakashi like he doesn’t know whether to be appalled or baffled.

“Maa, maa, there are other people here who could take offense at that as well, you know,” a mild—and familiar—voice says, and another Kakashi—this one in a dark blue outfit with a green flak jacket on top—steps out from behind one of the square pillars littering the space. Next to him is another version of Obito, this one with long hair in a braid and the same uniform as his companion.

He takes one look at Angry and blanches, falling back with a hand going to the short sword he’s carrying on his back, and snaps, “Akatsuki?! What the hell am I doing in Akatsuki?”

Uniformed Kakashi casts an assessing glance at Angry, then over at Obito (who feels rather like he should start calling himself Terrorist Obito just to keep things straight) and his Kakashi, and raises a brow. He only has one eye, the other covered by the slanted headband he’s wearing, but the book he pulls out of the pocket of his vest is all too familiar. “I think—” he starts.

“The better question would be what am I still doing in Akatsuki?” yet another Obito cuts in, this one dusty-looking and travel-worn. He also has a Kakashi double with him, this one wrapped in an equally dusty cloak, headband slanted down across his eye and Icha Icha also in hand. Vagabond eyes Angry with something that’s halfway between contempt and pity.

Long-Haired splutters. “No! No, I think the absolute best question is why am I in Akatsuki?”

“Because we’re clearly morons,” a fifth Obito says drolly, tucked back in the shadows of another column. It makes Obito twitch and turn sharply, but this one, in a dark green yukata, sporting a twist of ivy curled around his wrist and a rose twined in his hair, just gives him a faintly amused look and leans back into the hold of the man behind him. Very unfortunately, Obito recognizes him, even in a matching brown yukata instead of a neatly pressed suit. As the mayor.

God, what the hell happened for him to end up with Hashirama?

Apparently he isn’t the only one weirded out, because Angry, Vagabond, and Long-Hair are all gaping. Green Thumb just raises a brow at all of them, amused in a very familiar “I’m having fun watching your brains leak out your ears” way, and folds his arms over his chest. One of the sleeves of his yukata falls back enough to show a long string of zeroes inked into his forearm, and when Hashirama reaches around to touch his wrist gently, wise eyes flickering between the different groups, Obito can see there’s a matching tattoo on his skin. Weird.

“I take it you know where we are, then?” Hashirama asks Angry courteously, with a polite smile Obito’s seen him use when bullshitting Madara, who always fails to notice.

Thankfully for Obito’s own sanity, Angry doesn’t seem to fall for it. He scoffs, short and sharp, and takes a step back like he’s trying to get them all in his sights. “I can guess,” he growls, and Obito is detecting one or two anger management issues here. Maybe also a desperate need for therapy.

Kisame chuckles again, patting his massive scaled sword almost fondly, and says, “We were headed somewhere else. Guess we got sidetracked.”

Long-Hair is still eyeing them warily, but he straightens slowly, releasing his tantō, and tips his head in agreement. “We were on our way back from a mission and something went…sideways when I tried to use Kamui.”

Vagabond just narrows his eyes at them, and it’s Vagabond Kakashi who offers, without looking up from his Icha Icha, “Same, right, my cheerful little unicorn? We were on our way from Uzushio to Suna and ended up here.”

An entirely relatable expression of intent to murder flashes across Vagabond’s face, and he turns with a growl, slapping the book to the side, then throwing a blinding-quick punch at Vagabond Kakashi’s stomach. Vagabond Kakashi catches it with one hand, and uses his grip to twirl Vagabond around and pull him into a loose approximation of the hold Hashirama has on Green Thumb.

Obito is entirely unsurprised when Vagabond elbows Vagabond Kakashi in the gut, smacks him over the head, and pointedly steps three paces away.

“Would you look at that,” Kakashi murmurs in Obito’s ear, sounding far too amused for having just watched his double get beaten up. “It looks like some things are innate.”

Obito rolls his eye. “If you ever even think about calling me your cheerful little unicorn, I’m murdering you. Sasuke will help me.”

Kakashi makes a face. “Using your cousin against me isn’t playing fair, Obito.”

“You say that like any version of him would play fair,” Uniformed Kakashi says cheerfully, and casts a glance at Green Thumb and Hashirama. “I take it you were traveling too, then?”

Hashirama flushes faintly, ducking his head sheepishly as he rubs at the back of his neck, but Green Thumb just rolls his eyes. “Hardly. Madara walked in on us having sex last week and now he’s on a mission to never let us be alone together. We came here to fuck.”

Hashirama makes a noise like he’s dying and drops his head to bury his face in Green Thumb’s shoulder. “Obito,” he whines.

“I’m feeling out of place,” Kisame says cheerfully to Angry. “Just a little.”

“Don’t,” Angry tells him flatly, eyeing Green Thumb like he’s wondering if their double has lost his mind. “Clearly I’m the only one in this room with taste.”

“Excuse you,” Long-Hair says, deeply offended. “My sexual preference isn’t fish, so I think I’m doing just fine.”

“You’re with Bakashi,” Green Thumb and Angry retort in stereo, then glance at each other.

Obito snorts. “That’s fair,” he allows, and ignores the wounded noise Kakashi makes behind him. When Long-Hair looks like he’s going to protest, he meets his double’s eye and arches an eloquent brow.

Long-Hair deflates with a sigh. “Yeah, no, that is fair.”

“Maa,” Uniformed Kakashi objects, finally lowering his book. “Obito, I think you’re being very rude to your husband—”

There’s a very loud splutter, and Long-Hair rounds on Uniformed Kakashi, flailing. “WHAT. We’re not married! You’re not my husband!”

“Well, we’ll fix that as soon as we get back,” Uniformed Kakashi says cheerfully. “But as I was saying, rude—”

Obito turns to give his Kakashi a dark look, only for the man to raise his hands. “Clearly, Obito,” he says, tone trying for innocence, “I’m genetically predisposed to proposals like that—”

“You’re unbelievable is what you are.” Obito rolls his eye, and turns to look at Vagabond, who’s seeming like the only semi-normal one. Well, Green Thumb seems fairly mellow and well-adjusted, but Obito can’t look straight at him without thinking about Hashirama and sex and Madara walking in, and he’s had nightmares and been in war zones that were less traumatizing. “We weren’t going anywhere, and I have no idea what Kamui is. Any chance of getting back home before Rin decides to call in the army? Or worse, Kagami?”

Something raw and painful flickers in Vagabond’s expression, and Vagabond Kakashi lays a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Vagabond casts him a faint smile before turning back, and says, “There was probably resonance, with so many versions of Kamui in one place, and you had just enough chakra that it pulled you in as well. I can get you back, though, don’t worry.”

Angry snorts quietly, turning on his heel. “Kisame, let’s go. I’ve had more than enough of the selfless hero types.”

Kisame chuckles, even as he turns to follow Angry into the darkness of their surroundings. “Kurama’s hard to top as far as hero types go,” he agrees, offering a careless wave before a vortex in the air swallows them.

“And we’re going home to talk about this!” Long-Hair hisses at Uniformed Kakashi.

Uniformed Kakashi looks nothing less than cheerful. “I have a ring, if that helps.”

“NO IT DOESN’T. If you have a ring, why ask me like that?”

Vagabond rolls his eyes and steps away, tipping his head to make Obito follow. “They’re probably going to be there for a while.” Half a glance at Green Thumb, like it’s hard for him to look at the way he’s wrapped up with Hashirama too, and he asks reluctantly, “You’re staying?”

Madara,” Green Thumb says, like that explains everything, and Obito supposes that it does. “Besides, Hashirama’s been working on building the village for weeks now, and I finally convinced him to take a day off. I’m not about to waste that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” Hashirama says whimsically, offering a brief wave and a smile. “It’s good to know that Obito has people who love him in other worlds, too.”

This is apparently what it takes to make Green Thumb flush, and he elbows Hashirama lightly, only to immediately be wrapped up in an encompassing hug as the big man laughs.

Vagabond and Obito trade looks that can be summed up as well at least they’re happy but it’s still fucking weird, and then Vagabond shakes his head and turns away. His eyes flicker to red and black pinwheels, spinning lazily, and he passes a hand through the air, making another vortex bloom.

“Through there,” he says, and then pauses. A glance at Uniformed Kakashi, and he smiles, just a little. “Good luck.”

He definitely means for more than the trip through the portal. Obito smiles back, tipping his head in agreement, and returns, “You too.”

“We’ll get there.” Vagabond curls his fingers into Uniformed Kakashi’s, and Uniformed Kakashi’s visible eye crinkles in a smile as he very clearly squeezes back.

The sap is choking, even after weeks of having to put up with Rin and Konan being sickeningly sweet girlfriends. Obito hides a grimace and ducks forward, reaching for his knives automatically, and feels Kakashi right behind him. The portal is a lurching wrench, but Obito twists in midair and lands on his feet, half-crouched and ready for anything.

Anything happens to be their living room, bullet holes still in the door, his cell phone on the table and vibrating angrily. Rin’s name is on the screen, and Obito winces.

Kakashi leans forward to pick it up, eyeing it like it’s a poisonous snake, and then glances at Obito. “Was that weird enough to earn us a day off, do you think?”

Obito casts a look back at the portal as it vanishes into nothingness, and feels his original sentiment still entirely applies.

“What the actual fuck.”

Hold Back The River (Roman Reigns x Reader)

Context: Reader is best friends with Roman, traveling with him and valeting him to the ring. The two were inseparable. What happens when everything changes?

**A/N: ** Shout-out to @lclb13 because this fic is written based on a request from her imagination. I made this as true to the request as possible. Protective Roman is pretty cute. The song choice for this one: “Hold Back the River” by James Bay.

**S/B: ** Check out @thiickreigns for version two!

**Warnings: *** NSFW (SMUT AHEAD). READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Originally posted by vaniwin

 **Tags: **@the-geekgoddes ; @caramara3 ; @lavitabella87 ; @m-a-t-91 ; @thiickreigns ; @kalliravenne ; @m-a-t-91 ; @crookedmoonsaultpunk ; @squirrel666 , @livingthestrongstyle   {anyone who I’ve tagged in other Roman fics got a tag in this one! Hope y’all don’t mind}


“Tried to keep you close to me

But life got in between

Tried to square not being there        

But think that I should have been…”

           It was a long day, a really long and tiring day. The flights, the interviews, the training: long, tedious and tiring and all I wanted to do was go back to the hotel and sleep. Instead, I was here in Orlando, Florida, sitting quietly in the stands of the arena an hour and a half before Monday night Raw began.

           “Hey, baby girl. Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

          Roman’s deep, soothing voice from behind my row of seats caused me to jump up in shear surprise. I turned around with a scowl planted firmly on my face, trying my best not to smile at his apologizing pout. We’ve been best friends since we started out in NXT five years earlier. Now, we worked together for the same company and traveled together all the time. When I say I loved this adorable Samoan to death, I truly meant it.

Keep reading

d.w.

Title: d.w.

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Word Count: 5489

Warnings: Swearing, Nudity, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Blood

Summary: Under the hold of a ruthless djinn, Reader finds herself in her perfect world with a strangely perfect man she’d never seen before.

A/N: This is loosely based off 02x20 – What Is and What Should Never Be. Enjoy!

Originally posted by black-little-demons

Reader

It was quiet, so very quiet, and bright. It’s never been this bright in any of the dingy motels you and your sister found yourselves bunking in. But, then again, this wasn’t some crappy motel. No, based on the sheer white curtains that framed the clean windows, and the tidiness of the gleaming hardwood floors, you quickly concluded that this wasn’t anything you were familiar with.

A white fur rug peeked out in the corner of your vision before your eyes landed on the matching white night table near your head. Slowly, you propped yourself up on your elbow, but found it rather hard due to a tight hold around your waist. You looked down, confused, to find your bare torso being held by a large, strong hand.

You gulped, trying to remember who the hell this was. And though his name didn’t surface, you remembered hunting something – the djinn. You let out a shaky sigh, recalling its tattooed hands over your face.

Could this perhaps be your wishful reality?

Slowly, you lifted the blanket, thinking, please don’t be-

Yup – you were fully naked, wrapped in the strong hold of some strange man. You slowly twisted in his grip, careful not to wake the owner up as you stretched your neck to meet the reason behind your nudity.

Your eyes first caught the sharpness of his jaw and you already found yourself trying to recall the steamy night before. You followed the well-defined line, mentally admitting defeat against your memories. You gazed over his high cheekbones, stubbed chin, pouty lips, and perfectly sloped nose. You finally landed on his closed eyes, wondering what color they were. Blue? Brown? Grey? Whatever they were, you were sure they’d be just as beautiful as the rest of him.

He suddenly shifted from his side to his back, removing his warm hand from your body. The movement caused the comforter to slide down, exposing his defined chest. And though it was just as godly as the rest of him, the little inking on his left collarbone is what really captivated your attention. There, scribed in an elegant cursive, were your initials.

Your breath hitched as you quickly jumped out of bed and took several steps away from him. He stirred at the sudden movement, but didn’t think much of it.

As he sunk back into sleep, you stared at him, eyes wide, and you swallowed your fear. You glanced to the ajar door before your eyes caught your reflection. The black scribble on your collarbone was only so visible in the distance, so you rushed towards the hanging mirror.

d.w.

Your fingers brushed over it as confusion set in. What the fuck was this? Matching tattoos?

Breathing heavily, you quickly and quietly got dressed. You looked through the drawers, running into his clothes every now and then. Finally, you were fully dressed in jeans and a cropped black tank top under a tight and sheer white long sleeved shirt. You grabbed your phone, and long black combat boots before leaving the room.

Immediately, you dialed your sister’s number. “(Y/N)?” her tired voice rang.

“(Y/S/N)!” you exclaimed, before realizing the man was still sleeping and lowered your voice. “Hey, where are you?”

You heard her chuckle lightly. “We’re about to board our flight. Are you okay?” she replied, a slight hint of concern laced in her words.

You made your way down the stairs and sat at the steps once you reached the end. “Board your flight?” you repeated as you pulled on your boots. “Where’s the djinn?”

“Gin?” she asked, chuckling. “Are you drunk? It’s not even nine yet.”

You huffed as you tied your laces. “No, idiot. The djinn. The fucked-up creature we’re hunting. Look, I think it changed my reality somehow. Like, it made a wish come true or something.”

“Okay… where’s Dean?” she questioned.

You looked back up the stairs, finding them empty. “Dean?” you repeated. “That’s the name of the hot guy I woke up beside?”

She laughed. “I gotta go, just put the bottle down, okay? I’ll see you at Dad’s.”

You froze. “Dad’s? Wait, (Y/S/N/N).” But the line went dead.

Did you just hear her right or was the reception just bad? You didn’t have time to sit around and brew in your fast thoughts. You hurriedly shot up and began searching for your keys. You scoured the living room before making your way to the end table next to the door. A stack of envelops caught your eye.

Dean Winchester. The first one read.

You shuffled through them, finding your name or rather a variation of it. (Y/N) Winchester. Holy shit, that hot piece of ass was your husband. You looked back to the stairs, making sure he wasn’t up yet. Turning back to the letters, the next couple of lines captured your attention. It was addressed to your hometown.  

Suddenly, the same soft hands, that were clutching you in bed, snaked around your waist and you felt your back against his hard chest. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. His scruffy cheeks tickled your skin, but it didn’t last long as he looked back up. You followed his gaze to find a mirror hanging up on the wall and your reflection staring back at you.

Green. His eyes were green, and it suddenly put jumping his bones into perspective. “You’re up early.” he smiled, tightening his grip on you.

You melted into him, loving the way his body felt against yours. “Yeah, I, uh, had a bad dream.” you replied, placing your hands over his.  

He turned you around, so that you were facing him. “Well, then why don’t we go back upstairs and I’ll help you feel better.” he suggested with a little wink.

It seemed as though obtaining oxygen was abruptly hard as you found it increasingly tougher to breathe. You were about to nod until you felt a hard pressure against your hip. You glance down and found he was just as naked at the bottom as he was at the top.

Your head snapped up and you felt your cheeks flush. “Wow,” you breathed before you could stop yourself.

He chuckled, a little blush creeping onto his face. You couldn’t decide what was cuter, his laugh or his pink cheeks. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think it was the first time you’ve seen it.”

Your heart pounded against your chest as he pulled you closer to him. He leaned in, gently attaching his lips to yours. They were just as soft as they looked. “Um,” you breathed, pulling away. “Why don’t you go up and I’ll meet you there.”

He smirked, giving you one last peck. “Don’t be too long.” he almost begged, making your knee weak.

You gulped, nodding. “Mmhm.” you hummed, watching him walk away. Even his ass is hot.  You found yourself thinking.

When he finally disappeared back upstairs, you glanced back at the letters in your hand. It pained you so much to say this, but you had to get to the bottom of this. Placing the envelops back in their spots, you grabbed the keys to your car and your black leather jacket that laid next to it.

You opened the door, looking back to the stairs. “Once I found out if this is real, I’m so going to see you naked again.” you quietly promised him and yourself as you left the house and got into your car.

You drove down the familiar streets of your hometown. The melting snow framed the roads and covered most of the neighbourhood, including a light blue house. Your childhood home, the one that was unfortunately invaded by werewolves. You let out a shaky breath as you parked the car, and made your way to the door. Your hands shook as you found the courage to knock.

Heavy footsteps grew closer and closer until the door flew open. “(Y/N)?” your father asked, a smile surfacing his confused face.

Tears glassed over your eyes as you threw your arms around him. “Dad,” you respired, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Though bemused, your father wrapped his arms around you. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” he worriedly asked, pulling away from the hug and shutting the door.

“You’re real,” you whispered, ignoring his questions. Laughing, you dried your tears and looked around the house. “It’s all real.”

Your father placed a caring hand on your shoulder and escorted you to the living room. “Honey, are you feel okay?” he asked again, his bushy brows furrowed.

You smiled, looking around the room, your eyes landing on a bookshelf scattered with frames. “I’m great,” you smiled, taking in the family photos. You found on with your sister in a cap and gown. And another with the family on a trip somewhere sunny and sandy.

Your father stared at you. “Okay,” he said, not quite convinced. “Well, aren’t you a bit early?” he asked. “Your sister and Josh don’t get in until later.”

“Josh?” you asked, looking back at your father.

He slowly nodded. “Her boyfriend.” he clarified, an obvious tone in his voice.

You nodded. “Oh, right. Yeah, Josh. Great guy.”

He nodded along with you. “Dean just called. He was looking for you. Is everything alright between you two?” he crossed his arms over his chest, watching you carefully.

You blushed, recalling the exposed interaction. “Oh, yeah.” you chuckled, looking back at the pictures. Your heart soared at the new reality you were granted.

“Okay, well I got to go to work.” he said, his voice suddenly distant. You turned around to find him at the door, pulling on his shoes. “And I’m sure you have to do the same.”

You walked over to him, nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I better get going too. But, I wanna see mom before I go.”

He looked down at you, like you were crazy. “(Y/N),” he said slowly. “You know your mom is… dead, right?”

You froze, gulping down the urge to scream. “Oh,” you whispered. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I just, um, you know miss her.”

You quickly crashed into his chest again, throwing your arms around him.

He returned the hug, about to let go, but you held on tighter. “I really missed you, Dad.” you muttered against his shoulder, trying to blink back tears.

He rubbed your back, then pulled away. “I’ll see you tonight, honey.” he assured, flashing you a sad smile.

You returned the grin, then exited the house and made your way to your car. You looked back at him as you unlocked the car. “Love you!” you called as he locked the door.

He waved back at you. “Love you too!” he replied.

You smiled widely and got into your car. Could this really be happening? You thought as you drove off. You had to make sure this was real and not some sort of joke. Maybe the djinn did grant your wish, though you never really said it out loud.

You knew where you had to go to make sure this was real, this was your new life. And since you knew this town like the back of your hand, you speedily drove to the nearest community college located a couple of hours away and found the cryptozoology professor.

“I don’t remember seeing you in any of my classes,” he said as you took a seat across his desk.

You gave him a convince smile. “I sit in the very back and try to keep to myself. I just really love hearing what you have to say.” you effortlessly lied, interlocking your hands together.

He returned your friendly smile, asking, “So, what can I do for you?”

You shifted in your sit. “Djinn, can they really grant wishes and stuff even if you don’t say them out loud?” you questioned.

The professor nodded. “That’s how the legend goes,” he confirmed, eyeing you carefully. “But, of course, its all just a myth.” he stated in a clear, stern voice.

You nodded. “Oh, yeah.” you agreed. “Yes, it’s just a myth. Thank you for your time.” And with that, you exited the room.

You smiled, realizing this was your life now. The hot husband, your dad well and alive. And though your mother was gone, you couldn’t be more content with what you were given.

You got to your car, about to get in, when you noticed a little girl in a clean night gown. Her blonde hair blew in the wind as others walked passed her. You furrowed your eyebrows, making your way towards her. An abrupt weight crashed against you, stumbling you back.

“Watch where you’re going,” some girl spat.

You ignored her, turning back to the little girl only to find her gone. Just when you thought your life was perfect, a sprite decided to haunt you.  Perhaps it was all in your head, and the hunter in you just couldn’t wrap around the fact that this was your life now. Either way, you were going to ignore it.

You drove back to your house as the moon began to take the sun’s place. You entered to find Dean standing in front of that mirror again. He was wearing a clean-cut suit and was messing around with the neck of his tie.

Damn, he looked even hotter with clothes on. You thought as you bit your lip at the sight.

His eyes landed on you once you shut the door. “Hey, where have you been? I called you like a million times.” he said, dropping the knot and walking towards you. He placed a quick kiss on your lips.

You put a hand on his shoulders, pulling him back in as you remembered your promise earlier that morning. You bit his lip, causing him to gasp, and slipped your tongue into his mouth. He pulled back after a minute, breathless and smirking. “What was that for?” he whispered, erupting your heart.

“For leaving without a proper goodbye this morning.” you replied, your hands trailing down his chest, pushing the suit jacket off his shoulders.

He laughed, taking a step back. “Babe, we can’t now. Your dad’s waiting for us and you’re not even dressed yet.” he protested, readjusting his jacket.

“Waiting for us? Where are we going?” you asked, as he went back to fiddling with his tie.

He shot you a confused look. “Your dad’s birthday.” he replied, then let out a frustrated huff.

You pulled your hands away from his tie, and redid it yourself. “Right. Yeah, I’ll go get ready right now.” you reassured, finishing up the knot and dashing upstairs.

He looked back into the mirror, astonished by your quick work. “Don’t take so long!” he called after you.

You rushed into the bedroom and found a short, black dress already laid on the bed. You walked towards it, feeling the velvety fabric. You smiled swiftly throwing it on and brushing through your hair with your fingers. You slipped into some matching heels and grabbed that same leather jacket.

Hurrying downstairs, you found him leaning against the door, staring at the ceiling. He’s so hot. You thought once again, biting your lip.

He’s beautiful green eyes shot to you as a cocky smirk itched on his face. “You’re looking hot too, baby.” he complimented, making his way over to you.

Shit, did I just say that out loud?

“If it wasn’t for the fact that your family is probably pissed at us for being so late, I’d take you right here, right now.” his voice went deep with lust as he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you towards the door.

You leaned into him, slightly pressing your thighs together at his words. “Stop fucking teasing,” you whispered as he shut the door and led you to his sleek black car. “This car is beautiful.” you gasped while Dean opened the passenger door for you.

“Yeah.” he agreed proudly, shutting the door behind you.

You felt the leather seats, taking in the husky scent of cologne and whiskey. He got in and started the car, the engine giving out a throaty purr. You melted into the seats, thoughts of what you two could do on them made you cross your legs tightly.

Dean didn’t let it go unnoticed, flashing you one of his famous smirks as he drove down the street. “Want me that bad, huh?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You laughed at the adorable sight, understanding more and more why it was him. “I get it now. I get why you’re the one.”

He shot you a quick glance before turning back to the road. “Took you three years?” he joked, pulling into the parking lot.

You swatted his arm playfully. “Shut up,” you muttered, getting out of the car. “You know what I mean.”

He laughed, taking your hand and leading you to the door. “I love you.” he whispered in your ear as your father, sister and the man – you assumed was her boyfriend – came to view.

You looked up at him, shocked to hear those words. “Finally!” your sister huffed, standing up to greet you.

You turned back to her, a wide smile taking over your features. “(Y/S/N),” you laughed, pulling her into a tight hug. “You look great!” you said as she pulled back.

She looked down at her flowy pink dress. “Oh, thanks,” her smile wavered. “You too.”

The man beside her cleared his throat, looking at you. “Josh,” you smiled, turning to him and also pulling him into a tight hug.

He hesitantly hugged you back. “Good to see you too, (Y/N).” he said, pulling away.

You turned to your dad, giving yet another hug. “Dad!” you exclaimed, a little too loudly. A few people near you began staring.

Your dad pulled away after a few seconds. “It’s like you haven’t seen me in years, much less this morning.” he joked.

You forced a little laugh, taking your seat between Dean and your sister. “Happy Birthday.”

He smiled, giving you a little nod. “Thank you, sweetie.” He turned back to your sister. “So, what’s this exciting news?”

You shot your head to her as she blushed and brought her left hand up. “We’re getting married.” she laughed, gazing loving at her fiancé.

Dean laughed, giving Josh a pat on the back while your father wiped a tear from his eye.

You, on the other hand, screamed and grabbed her arm closer to you. “Oh, my god!” you cried, examining the ring. “(Y/S/N/N), this is amazing.”

You looked up to find her staring at you like you’ve grown three heads. And that’s when you realized the entire restaurant silenced. You nervously chuckled. “My sister’s getting married,” you explained as the diners began nodded and clapping for her.

In the corner of your eye, you caught Dean biting his lip to hold back his laughter. You nudged his arm, muttering, “Shut up,” and turned back to your sister.

“I’m suddenly feeling very old.” your father joked and the entire table laughed.

Dinner went by quick, and you were slowly getting the hang of things. It was like you really did belong here.

Back at your father’s house, you, Dean, your sister, and Josh stood at the foyer as your father turned in upstairs.

“Well, it’s getting late.” your sister sighed, looking up to Josh. “We should get some sleep too.”

Your smile dropped. “Wait, the night’s still young. Let’s go celebrate.” you suggested.

She gave you a confused look. “Guys, do you mind giving me a moment alone with my sister?” she asked, keeping her eyes on you.

A gentle kiss was pressed to your forehead before your husband and your soon to be brother-in-law left the room.

“(Y/N), are you feeling okay?” she asked.

You nodded. “I’m great, (Y/S/N/N).”

She scoffed. “Stop calling me that. Where did you even get that name?”

“I always call you that.” you drily chuckled.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t. Listen, we don’t talk to each other unless we have to.”

The light in your eyes slightly died and you took a step back. “We… we don’t? But, you’re my sister.”

“Yeah, that statement didn’t really apply all those years you ruined my relationships.” she humorlessly chuckled.

Your heart broke at her words. “(Y/S/N), I’m so sorry.” you breathed.

She shrugged. “No, I’m over it. This is just how things are. Look, you show go home and get some sleep. This has clearly been a really big day for you.”

You nodded, forcing a small smile. You watched as she turned around and made her way upstairs with Josh trailing behind her.

Tears picked your eyes at her words. Were you really that cruel to her? Ruining her life? Caring hands found yours and you looked up to find your handsome husband with a sad smile. “You okay?”

You let out a dry chuckle. “Everyone keeps asking me that.”

He nodded, pulling you to the door. “Come on, let’s go home.”

He led you to the car and opened the passenger door for you again. You were about to get in, when you noticed a figure under one of the streetlights. It was the little, blonde girl. However, this time, her nightgown was torn and bloody.

You pushed passed Dean, and made your way to her. “(Y/N)!” Dean called as a loud horn honked to your right.

The tires screeched and you snapped your head towards it. A car, a few itches away from you, stopped with an angry driver cursing at you. Dean pulled you back and out of the way as he apologized to the driver.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded as the car drove away.

You looked back at the light to find the girl gone. Sighing, you looked back to your worried husband. “Sorry, I thought I saw something.”

“We’re going home.” he breathed, holding you under his arm.  

He made sure you got in this time before starting the car and driving away. The moment you got home, you slumped down on the couch and tried to wrap your head around the fact that your sister, the one you thought would die for you, doesn’t speak to you anymore.

“Baby, you coming to bed?” Dean asked, taking a seat beside you.

You looked up at him to find him only in his boxers. You trailed your hand down his chest, cursing the unlucky moments that he just happens to be shirtless in. “I really fucking want to,” you groaned. “But, I just can’t, knowing my sister barely speaks to me.”

He knitted his brows together. “I didn’t think that really bothered too much. It’s kinda how it’s always been.” he shrugged.

You rubbed his bare shoulder, loving the feel of his skin. Your eyes landed on the little tattoo again. “I’m going to fix it.” you vowed.

He smiled. “I’m here if you need any help.”

You leaned in, not able to resist him any longer. He responded, trailing his hand up your thigh and under your dress. “Why don’t we take this upstairs?” he smirked, brushing his fingers over your lace panties.

You moaned against his jawline, nodded. “Yes,”

Your eye suddenly caught the headline in the newspaper on the coffee table. Fire burns down hotel. “I just need to grab something,” you whispered as he kissed and sucked on your neck. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

He pulled away, eyes narrowed. “Are you actually coming up this time?”  

You nodded, flashing him a smile. “Yes.”

He nodded and hurried upstairs. “I’ll be waiting.” he called over his shoulder as you reached for the paper.

You skimmed through it. “All victims’ dead.” you whispered. “But, I saved them.”

You looked up, trying to make sense of the news, when she appeared again. She stood in front of you with two skeletons hanging by their hands behind her. You kneeled before her. “Hey, are you okay? Do you need help?” you whispered.

The image was suddenly gone and you looked around for any proof that it was there to begin with. Why was this sprite and your hunting life following you around? Maybe you needed to get rid of the djinn to full live in this new life.

You shot up and rushed to the door, grabbing your keys on the way out. Quickly, you got into your car and drove back to your father’s place. You tried to be very quiet as you creeped in and rummaged through your mother’s silverware.

Finally, you found it, but the sound of tiny footsteps made you stop in place. Slowly turning around, you found your sister inching towards you with a bat. Easily, you disarmed her and brought her to her back.

“(Y/N)?” she asked, pushing you off her.

You got up to your feet and helped her to hers. “You should be embarrassed by how easy that was.” you joked as she flicked on the light.

“What are you-” she cut herself off, noticing the box of cutlery beside you. “Are you stealing mom’s sliver?” she questioned.

You glanced down at the box. “Yeah, I, uh, owe someone money.” you lied, grabbed two knives.

She furrowed her brows, scanning you up and down, noticing you were still in your dress. “I can’t believe this. Did you even go home? Does Dean know?”

“Does it look like Dean knows?” you hissed back. “Look, I have to go. Just tell dad I love him.” And with that, you pushed passed her and got back into your car.

As you started the engine, the passenger door opened and your sister got in. “Get out,” you ordered, as she shut the door and pushed aside the duffle bag you found in the trunk.

“No, I’m coming with you.” she said, pulling on her seatbelt. She was still dressed in her sweatpants and t-shirt.

You stared at her and scoffed. “It’s dangerous.”

“Which is why I’m coming with you.” she replied. “Whatever stupid thing you’re doing, you’re not doing it alone.”

You sighed and waited for her to change her mind. However, she was still so stubborn and stayed glued to her seat. You rolled your eyes and started the engine, driving down the road and into the highway.

“How far is this place?” she asked.

“A few hours.”

She snapped her head towards you. “I have school.”

You glanced at her before turning back to the road. “Oh, yeah. Medicine, I bet.”

She nodded. “Yeah, you knew that.”

“You’re the one that forced yourself in here. Don’t blame me.” you shrugged.

She rolled her eyes, mumbling, “Whatever.”

Hours passed and you finally arrived at the same old warehouse that you hunted the djinn in. “Where the hell are we?” your sister asked.

“Lawrence, Kansas.” you answered, parking the car. You grabbed the duffle bag and the two knives before getting out of the car and making your way over to the entrance.

“What’s in the bag?” she questioned, quickly following behind you.

You pulled out a flashlight and clicked it on. “Lamb’s blood, and a few guns.” You decided it was far passed lying at this point if she’s going to come in with you and hunt this son of a bitch.

“Why the-”

You cut her off. You had no time for her questions. “I have to dip the silver in it to kill the djinn. It’s the monster we were hunting before it changed my reality. Now, stay quiet and keep behind me at all times.” you ordered as you led her through the same hallway you walked through the first time.

You reached an opened room, spotting the same two skeletons hanging by their hands. Your sister let out a disgusted sigh at the sight. “Shh.” you shushed her, noticing the little girl.

She, too, was tied up with a blood bag attached to her. You gulped, the sound of footsteps pulling you away from the girl. Quickly, you grabbed your sister and scurried behind some barrels.

The djinn made his way to the girl as she whimpered and begged for him to leave her alone. He stroked her cheek, whispering for her to go back to sleep. After she passed out, he pulled the tube connected to the blood bag and let the blood drip into his mouth. And once he had his taste, he returned the tube to its spot and left the room.

You emerged from your hiding place, making you way to the girl. You couldn’t remember much after the djinn attacked you. “What if I’m like her?” you wondered aloud.

Your sister tugged on your arm, pulling back to the exit. “Come on, let’s go.” she demanded.

You tore your arm away, the fog finally clearing up. “You’re not real.” you replied, holding the knife up.

“What?” she asked, outraged. She grabbed your shoulders and shook you. “You feel that? That’s real.”

You pulled away. “No!” you yelled. “I read somewhere that you can’t die in your dreams.” You said as you held up the knife and pointed it to your gut. “I’m like ninety percent sure this is a dream.”

“No.” she said, shaking her head. You ignored, bring the knife down to your stomach. “NO!” she yelled, making you freeze.

Your father suddenly began walking towards you dressed in the same clothes he was murdered in. You looked to your sister, the image of Dean creeping up behind her. To your left, Josh came to view as well. They surrounded you, watching you.

“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you, babe?” Dean asked, the disappoint rich in his voice.

“You were happy.” your father smiled.

Your tears began streaming down your face. “This isn’t happiness.” you whispered, chocking back sobs.

Dean made his way to you, pulling you into a sweet, desperate kiss. “Yes, it is. I’m here. I love you.” he begged.

You pulled back, taking a few steps away. You looked between all four of them, and gulped. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pieced the knife through your stomach, the blood bubbling up through your mouth.

“HEY!” a deep, familiar voice called, two hands holding your face.

Your hands suddenly fell and you tumbled onto the figure in front of you. The owner caught you with ease as another figure to your left emerged. It was all so blurry and dark. You wanted to open your mouth and ask where you were, or who this was, but you found it extremely hard.

“(Y/N),” you heard your sister whisper, trying to meet your gaze. You looked to her as someone came up behind her.

“Is she okay?” he asked.

The person holding you readjusted your weight on him, and pick up with one hand under your knees and the other on your back. “She will be.” he reassured. “Did you kill it?”

“Yeah, it’s dead.” your sister replied, as the guy behind her untie the little girl.

Your vision blurred as you fell in and out of consciousness until it all went black.

Your eyes opened to the feeling of a cool, damp cloth over your forehead. You slowly sat up, slightly wincing in pain. You looked down to your throbbing arm to find it sewn with stitches. Your eyes took in the unfamiliar room painted with dull colors.

“You okay?” the deep voice asked from your right.

You snapped your head to find him sitting on a chair near your bed. The same sharp jawline, stubbed chin, pouty lips and high cheekbones engulfed his features. And those gorgeous green eyes, so fucking captivating, stared back at you.

“You.” you whispered, staring at his covered collarbone. You looked down to yours, tugging on your shirt to see your skin.

It was bare.

“You remembered?” he asked, those prefect eyebrows coming together.

You swallowed, wondering if he knew who he was in your altered reality. “Huh?”

“You remembered that I woke you up from whatever the djinn had you under?” he explained, trying to read your features.

A relieved sigh escaped your lips as you nodded. “Oh, yeah. Yup, I remember that.”

He let out a short breath, nodding along with you. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go wake up your sister. She’s gonna wanna talk to you.”

He got up to make his way to the door, but you stopped him, grabbing his wrist. “Wait,” you called, urgently. He turned to you, that same look of concern on his face. “What’s your name?”

“Dean Winchester.”

I’M GONNA DO A QUICK LIL INTRODUCTION HERE SISTERS! bc i’m lame and new!!! well i’m not new to the fandom etc but this is a fresh blog and this is the first time i’ve ever posted my writings anywhere for the general public (who happens to be searching for harry styles smut) can read it and I’M GEEKIN TBQH!! anyway, hi hello – i have a name, but im gonna let u guys call me T, even tho my name starts w H. H would get too confusing should this work out the way i’m hoping it will! so i’m T. and i like writing and harry styles and so i thought i, along with everyone i scream about H to in the wee hours of the night, would probably find it beneficial if i had blog where i could do that and ppl who actually want to read about how i want him to spit in my mouth! i’ve been a silent lurker of the tags for awhile now (shoutout to @stylesunchained, @permanentcross, @jawllines, @canistay-haz for the inspo behind me finally making this godforsaken blog) (please be my friend) (i’m very intimidated by all of u). so yeah i hope this works out, and if not then it was fun to share this little bit of a something with all of u! and if it does then i’ll likely post a pt 2 to this!  if u like it like/reblog if ur into the kinda thing ig :) also my praise kink is jsut as alive as harrys and my ask box is always open to discuss either one <3

“Pet,” he starts, and you smile, because after a long moment of just standing there and listening to each other breathe, you hear the familiar nickname and know you’ve got him back. “You are the meanest, most stubborn, woman ’ve ever met. Got a bloke full on puttin’ himself out there in front ‘f thousands, ‘nd you run away. Same bloke tells ya’ exactly what he means even after that, 'nd ya’ tell me I don’t mean it?” He murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear it. “Tell me how I can prove it to ya’,” he adds before you can get another word in, and he seems to already have a good idea, because his nose is brushing against yours already, but you quickly figure out that it’s going to take you asking for it before he does it, because Harry’s humble, but he has his pride, and you doubt he needs you fucking with it anymore tonight.

“’M going to start screaming if you don’t kiss me in the next three seconds,” you state, and he’s laughing as he presses his lips to yours, his hand cupping your cheek, and it’s gentle and soft and everything you ever imagined kissing Harry for the first time would be like.

And that’s how you die.

or

Harry’s your best friend and then you realize a lot of things, mostly that you’re an idiot

7k+, smut, overuse of the word ‘because’

Keep reading

That’s my Name- Part 2: A Friendship is Blossoming (Jason Todd Soulmate AU)

Word Count: 2369
AU: Your soulmate’s name is tattooed somewhere on your body. 
A/N: I got so much wonderful feedback on the first part of this series that I couldn’t stop until the second part was finished! I believe there will be two more parts after this and maybe an epilogue…? We’ll see!
Tag list: @batmagines @left-boob-chris @redbircl @4evahevah @booya–18 @just-a-girl-maybe @nervouswastelandvoid @geeky-girl-394 @amidblogger @toogeeky @memento-scribet

Keep reading

Prove Me Wrong // Cha Eunwoo

-

the prompt: could you write a fluff + angst scenario of Eunwoo from Astro? Eunwoo could be fall in love with an international fan.

words: 1946

category: angst + fluff, soulmate!au

author note: I’ve turned this into another soulmate au bc i liked the idea. please enjoy!

- destinee

Originally posted by mkcyj

Keep reading

Black and White - Chapter 1

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Bad Boy AU // University AU // Fluff

Word Count: 2601 words

Plot: Baekhyun is the typical heartthrob that always gets what he wants.. until you came along.

Black and White: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Byun Baekhyun.
The man that possesses a piercing stare so dangerous, you could drown in it if you stared long enough. He’s got the looks and he knows it. 

Heck, the whole university knows it.

He’s hot and anyone can establish that just by looking at all the girls that are constantly desperate to get into his pants. He lets them, of course, because he’s a horny bastard that likes having sex with girls only to leave them before morning comes. He rarely does the same person twice.

He’s arrogant and smug most of the time but he isn’t so much of a bad boy. He may smoke a pack or two but he doesn’t have any tattoos or piercings. He doesn’t necessarily get into fights unless you mess with him or his friends.

Don’t bother him, and he won’t bother you.

He’s just a guy that is cocky as fuck and always gets what he asks for.

That was, until he met her.

Keep reading

Maid - Joker x Reader imagine part 2 :)

a/n: ok im super nervous about this one. i was requested to do a daddy smut w joker so ill try :) and let me tell you what this joker is like, he’s passionate here about.. making love sooo yeah AND he’s not 100000% maniacal, just a little bit of a maniac. here it goes 

a/n: update - im eating a banana rn :D

characters: Jared Leto!Joker, Reader

warnings: smut, swearing, daddy kink


Ever since the encounter with Mr. J two weeks ago, he was the only thing on my mind. How unfair, I get him as my only thought subject while he gets to have other things on his mind. Like… His business, Batman, police, his henchmen and other problems. I bet he doesn’t think about me at all. But God do I hope he does. What am I to him? A maid? A fuck toy? No thanks. He said he had a liking in me, does that mean I mean something more to him than just sex? I hope. 

Well, I can’t hope for that. We can’t have feelings for each other, that would be wrong - he’s my boss. If he uses me just for sex - that would partly be acceptable. No, no that wouldn’t be. Jesus, what’s gotten into me lately? Have I caught feelings for him? Him? 

If we could keep it as just sex, it would save heartbreak for everyone. I wouldn’t be complaining. I’m not complaining, the sex was just… wow. The best I’ve had. And, it was the only time for me and him. Did he not like me in bed? What if I was bad at it? Oh my God, I hope not.

Every day I was longing for his touch, but the only thing I received was looks and orders. This was really frustrating me. He was so complicated, I couldn’t figure him out in any way. I guess that was his goal. To be mysterious and unpredictable, closed to everyone around. Mr. J was giving me a hard time.

I was cleaning the boss’s own bedroom - which didn’t need much cleaning, but I cleaned it anyway cause there was nothing else to do - when I heard an echo of a door being shut. He must have come back from business. I heard shouts that seemed like happy ones echoing through the house, but just kept cleaning. Guess Mr. J had successful business today. 

I spotted a gun on the floor and bent to pick it up.It was quite heavy.  I hoped my uniform didn’t go up too high because if someone walked in, there would be quite a funny situation. I reached the gun and picked it up, straightening my posture so it would be more comfortable for me to look at it. It was-

“I would prefer the other position, doll.” I heard him speak from far behind me. My body froze, not knowing what to do. I had just picked up his gun. Oh my God, I’m so dead. Had he been watching me? I was so scared I couldn’t even think of what to say, I couldn’t move an inch. Okay, whatever happens, happens.

My breathing was heavy and quiet as I heard him walk up to me from behind and put his firm hands on my hips. What was happening?

“Be a good girl for Daddy and put that thing down, baby girl.” Mr. J spoke lowly and dominantly in my ear, his breath tingling my skin. I swear, my heart almost jumped out of its cage. I was scared, but also turned on a bit. Wait, did he ask me to put it back? But that would mean bending over again. I could just put it on the night stand. Yeah, let’s go with that option. I slowly, with my body shaking, bent forward and put the small weapon on the night stand, with his grip on me tight. 

“Oh baby,” he almost moaned in my ear. “Obedient today, are we?” He said as I bent back up. He pulled me even closer to his front and I could feel his boner through the fabrics of our clothing (a/n: gOD HELP ME I HAVENT WRITTEN SMUT IN LIKE A YEAR SHBSH I FEEL LIKE IM SINNING). I sucked in a sharp breath at the realisation that he was turned on by me. Wait, was it me? Oh my God what’s happening. “Not talking, either?” He asked and laughed lowly. He was turning me on, christ.

Suddenly Mr. J turned me around to face him and pull our bodies even closer, if that was possible at this point. I finally saw him for the first time today and we were finally as close to each other as last time. He looked pretty good, his shirt was unbuttoned at the top, showing a bit of his pale chest and tattoos and he had a slight smirk on his face. My mouth unvoluntarily fell agape at the sight before me.

“Do you like what you see, doll?” He said and raised my chin up to him with his hand. His eyes were focused on my face, as if searching my features. “C'mon, talk to me. You haven’t said a word.”

“Y-yes, sir, I-”

“It’s Daddy to you now.” He butted in.

“Yes, D-daddy,” I hesitated a bit. I know I was quite young to be working here - I finished high school a year ago, and he was a few years older than me, but his ‘daddy’ fetish was a little weird. “I j-just-”

“You look like something’s bothering you, can you tell Daddy what’s wrong?”

Can I? I mean, it has to do with him. Nah, I won’t let my self-consciousness ruin this perfect moment.

“It’s n-nothing, nothing’s bothering me, Daddy.”

“Really? Are you not lying to me, baby girl?”

“No, Daddy.”

“I love how it sounds when you say it.” Joker growls at me, making me shiver. His left hand makes its way up my back and soon he’s holding the back of my neck tightly, making me gasp. 

He pulls my face closer to his and connects our lips. Oh, so that’s what’s happening. I hesitate at first, but then put my hands around his neck and kiss him back. The way he kissed me was… with power, force and lust. I loved the combination. 

I moaned when he bit down on my lower lip with his metal teeth, there was more pleasure than pain. He grunted with a smirk and untied the bow that was holding my uniform together and threw it somewhere on the floor. I kicked off my heels before he pulled down my tights, all while our lips moved in sync.

Joker pulled away abruptly, making me whine at the loss of contact. He then tightened his grip on my neck and I got it as my que to be quiet.

“Now, baby girl,” he said, moving his hands to my back, “I’m gonna lay you down.” He said and did as promised, slowly, almost teasingly, laying my back first down on his bed. The covers felt like silk against my bare thighs, they were so soft. Joker leans back up and removes his… armory. He looked great from this point of view. He looked good from every angle, actually.

“You know,” he starts speaking matter-of-factly, ”you’re lucky I’m in a good mood today. Business went really well, so I’ve got nothing to be angry about. And to come home to such a great view of baby girl cleaning up… makes my day even better.” He finished, opening the lower buttons of his shirt.

“Aren’t you lucky to have me here, all just for you, Daddy?” I asked in a sweet voice, trying to ignore the hundred questions in my mind.

“Of course I am, my dear doll.” He said before getting on the bed and situating himself above me. “But now… it’s time to play a little bit.” He said, stroking my cheek with the back of his hand. “What do you say?”

“Sure, Daddy.” I said barely above a whisper. Joker showed me his wicked smile and leaned down to kiss me again. I loved how rough, but soft his lips were, I loved the feeling of them. Mr. J’s hips pressed down on mine and his hands moved up to push my dress off of me. Once it was over my head, he threw it somewhere behind us. Now he was fully clothed with his purple shirt hanging on his torso and I was in only my black matching underwear.

Joker then sat up straight and his eyes raked over my body, mine watching him intently.

“We’ve got something beautiful here.” He stated loudly with a lustful smile. “Aren’t you beautiful, my dear?” He asked rethorically and I couldn’t help but to giggle and bite my lip. I watched as his face lowered down to my neck and he started slowly leaving rough kisses on my skin. I moaned as he traced his lips down my body, the valley of my breasts and he stopped at the middle of my tummy. 

“Look at me, doll.” He said quite sternly. I opened my eyes and looked down at him staring at me, his chin resting on my stomach. “Tell me what you want.” He said. He then turned his head so his cheek was on my stomach and his hands were resting under my body. “What do you want… What do you want… What do you want… Tell me, tell me, tell me…” he said, playing with the skin of my back.

“What re the options, Daddy?” I asked, in a half-moan. This all was turning me on so badly I just wanted him to take me right there, right now.

“Well… we could always just go with the boring option… or we could play games… or I could use my fingers, lips or any toy to make you, doll, pleased.” He said with joy filled eyes. “Today’s your day, baby girl. Daddy’s already happy, and he’ll be even more happy if his doll is.” He finished and I smiled at him. “So make your choice, darling.”

“Oh, Daddy, I would love to have your fingers work wonders on me…” I moaned out. 

“Beg for it, baby girl.”

“Oh, please, please, please, Daddy, I want your fingers so bad.” I whined, shutting my eyes closed. “Daddy, please.”

“You sound desperate, doll, so…” He rose up in a sitting position, straddling the sides of my hips. “I will give you what you want.” Mr. J said, tracing his fingers all over my face, moving them just the way to arouse me. I bet my panties were so wet it was visible. Jesus Christ, the things this man made me feel… 

His fingers moved down to my neck, then to my bra covered chest, kneading and touching it perfectly. Where has he been? He knows how to please a woman so well. He ripped my bra in half and threw it away. Multiple moans left my mouth, getting louder each time.

“Yes, baby, be loud, I love to hear you.” Joker encouraged me, moving his fingers further down my body and stopping just above my underwear. “Where do you want my fingers, doll?” He teased, tracing the line of my underwear with his fingers. “Do you want them…” he said, suddenly cupping my heat and making my back arch up from his bed. “There? Would that be okay with you?” Joker leaned in close to my face, his other hand supporting my back, so we were both sitting up. I put my arms around his neck. “Speak.” He growled.

“Y-yes, Daddy,” I managed to choke out. “Right there.” I said just before Joker pressed on my underwear, beginning to trace circles after. “Daddy, that feels s-so good….” I moaned out, dipping my fingers into his skin. He teased my center before moving my underwear to the side and continuing his work without a fabric bothering. “Daddy, please….”

“What? What is it?” Joker asked. “You don’t like it if I tease you, huh? You don’t like that?” He asked with a fake pout on his lips. 

“M-more, please, Daddy…” I begged. I bet there was a satisfied smirk on his face, but I didn’t see. His finger entering me had my eyes closed shut and mouth wide open, high pitched moans leaving it. “Oh, yes…” I sighed in pleasure, only to be interrupted when he added another finger, nearly reaching my G-spot. I almost screamed when he did that, it was more of like a scream and a moan mixed together. Mr. J began to circle them both around in me, bringing me closer to my release any second.

“Are you going to cum on my fingers like the naughty girl you are?” He huskily spoke in my ear, making me near my orgasm even faster. “Go on, do it. Come all over Daddy’s fingers, baby.” He spoke and that was all it took. My body shook, if I hadn’t been holding onto his neck, I’d probably hit the bed hard. With many moans and Mr. J holding me, I finally came to my release.

“Baby, that was wonderful.” He spoke with an audible smirk. I opened my eyes and looked at him, he raised his fingers in my view and licked them clean, humming. “You taste so sweet. I wish I could taste more of you, but not tonight…” Joker said and then leaned forward and kissed me… passionately? It must be a hallucination from the mind-blowing orgasm I just had. With as much energy as I had left, I kissed him back, being laid back down on the mattress under Joker’s body. “Now, baby girl, I hope you can take one more.” 

“Of course I can, Daddy.” I replied with a smile. “I can do anything for you.”

Anything?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” He says and connects our lips again. Joker’s hands then reached down to his pants to unzip them. Soon enough the only thing he was wearing was the shirt, which barely covered anything except his arms. He pulled my panties down my legs and leant back over me. My hands slithered on his chest, reaching under the shirt and tugging it off. Mr. J quickly took it off himself, showing me the whole glory, aka his body. God, he was truly something. I ran my hands over both of his biceps, admiring how strong they were, he was. All his tattoos looked so good on his white skin, it was a total contrast

“Doll, you’ll have another time to analyze my body, but it’s not now.” Joker spoke, aligning himself with my entrance. “I believe we have something better to do now, don’t we?” He said before pushing all the way in, making me yelp out loudly. I had forgot how roughly gentle he was during sex, god… I loved it. I loved everything about him. 

“Please, faster..” I moaned out. Soon enough I got what I wanted, Joker and me both moaning in sync. He kissed down my neck while pounding into me like there was no tomorrow, totally leaving a hickey here and there.

“Are you close, baby?” He whispered lowly.

“I am now…” I said.

“Are you going to cum for the second time tonight, doll?” He teased, knowing just how to speak to get me cum sooner. “Aren’t you a naughty little slut for Daddy?”

“Y-yes, Daddy, I am…” It was so hard to speak while he was so deep in me, he was already touching my G-spot again. “Can you p-please go.. Ah! Deeper…” I asked, knowing it’d hurt a bit, but it would be worth it. Joker pushed harder, deeper into me, stretching me out a bit more than before. A string of moans came past my lips when he went probably balls deep in me, and it felt so amazing. “I’m s-so, so close, Daddy…” I moaned out, pulling him closer to me and scratching my nails against the skin of his back.

“Cum, baby, cum for me…” He said shakily, shooting his load in me just as I came undone. My legs were shaking and we were both sweating and breathing heavily. He pulled his member out of me and collapsed on the bed next to me. Now one thing I knew about him was that he couldn’t let anyone see him defeated or just… done in general. But he looked quite exhausted now, beaten down. 

J looked at me and turned my face in his direction by grabbing my chin. My eyelids were dropping close already, I could barely see him in front of me. 

“Rest, my doll.” He said. “You did amazing.” Him kissing my lips was the last thing I felt before totally blacking out.


a/n:  i fINISHED IT OMG YES AHAHHAHAH I AM SO WRITING THE NEXT MORNING TOMORROW MUHAHAHAHH THANKS FOR READING I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH REBLOG AND LIKE IF YOU NEED HOLY WATER I HOPE ITS NOT AS BAD AS I THINK IT IS

anonymous asked:

Request: Smutty smut smut In which harry and Y/N have a bet to see who can get the other off faster with oral and whomever looses has to wear that persons favorite team colors for the game that's night. (Packers vs Seahawks or Jets)


I had so much fun writing this! 

Thank you for the request, lovely! Hope you like this one!


#16: You bet**

Y/N sits in her study room, legs propped up on the table, figure slumped on the leather chair, and her laptop resting on her lap as she went through her mails. The idea of work from home worked just apt for her; apart from the comfort and relaxation to her, it also brought Harry a consolation of always having her with him, wherever he goes, whichever part of the world he rests in. Anyhow, it was no casual work; Y/N put her heart and soul into the works assigned to her, and as a result her pay was always on the line of increase and promotions always seeked her way. In all, she was on the line of great prosperity, along with her love life hand in hand.

“Y/N!” She hears him a moment before he barges into the room, panting. “Y/N!”

“Yeah?” She looks up from her laptop, giving a bored look.

“Y/N.” He says again, stepping inside the room, and walking round to her side. “Are you through with your work?”

“Yeah, just one mo-“

“Okay, good.” He shuts the laptop with a thud, Y/N eyes widening as she gives him a look, and she barely has time to protest, when suddenly, he’s picked her off of the chair, tucking his arm under knee and other under her back, lifting her in the air.

“Harry, what the-“ Her arms wrap tightly around his neck, as he walks out of the room, walking in the direction of their bedroom. “Harry, stop! What’re you doing?”

“You’ll see.” He tells her, monotone in his voice, as he stands before their bedroom door. He opens the door in haste, almost tripping on his feet, and somehow, stumbles towards the bed, throwing her on top of the mattress.

“Harry!” Y/N scolds, rubbing her behind in agony, as she gives him a look.

Harry looks down at her, staring intensely to make her knees feel weak and her anger rush out of her mind.

“Okay, let’s do it.” He takes off his shirt in one quick motion; Y/N barely has time to admire his sexy tattoos and the little tummy he’s acquired, before he’s lied on top of her, pressing down on her body with his, lips curling in a kiss on her jaw.

She smiles as he leans up to kiss her lips. His hands wander down her body, pulling her tunic up her till he has his hands touching her stomach.

“Ah.” Y/N moans into his mouth; he breaks away, kissing down her jaw. “Someone’s in quite a mood today.” She chuckles.

“Hmm.” Harry hums against her chest, opening his mouth against her covered breasts, and she is arching her back to get closer to him. “I’m in mood.” He continues his trail, kissing over her stomach; sitting up to pull her tunic over her head. Their lips press again, and he says in her mouth. “Mood for some football without any disruption.”

Y/N eyes shoot upon, she absorbs his words. “What?” She lifts her head off the mattress to look at him.

Harry looks up from kissing her valley between her breasts. “Yeah, the football match between the mighty Packers and the Seahawks.” He says to her, grinning.

Y/N sits up, pushing him to do along. “So, why aren’t you going and watchin’ it?”

“Because the match’s in the evening, and I need no, NO, distractions or disturbance while I’m watching; so you have me right now – finish off with your fetishes and kinky fuckeries now, so that I’m relieved for the evening.”

Y/N’s eyes narrow. “Why are you like this?”

“The match is bloody important, Y/N! I cannot-CANNOT miss any second of it!” He says, eyes widening dramatically.

Y/N looks away from him, not impressed. Harry sighs, tugging her shoulders so she lies back down. “C’mon, let’s get over with it, it’s not like you take too much time to get off anyway..”

“Excuse me?!”  She booms at him, mouth agape, eyes widened, utterly offended. Harry snickers at her expression.

“What?” He smiles. “I’m just stating facts.”

“Well, Mister Harry Fucking Styles.” Y/N stands on her knees, getting taller than his sitting figure, as she leans towards him with a finger poking his chest. “You should pretty much write this down, but I have the most holding back power, okay?!”

“You’re telling me?” Harry counters, musing at her childlike demeanor. “I, who has discovered your body like you yourself haven’t, and know you like the back of my hand – you dare to challenge my intellect?” He gets up on his knees, towering her.

“But it’s my damn body! I know it better than anyone else does!” She states, tightening her arms at her sides, and she puffs her chest, acting intimidating.

Harry laughs out loud, throwing his head back, and Y/N’s looking at him, absolutely anguished. She crosses her arm over her chest, looking away, pouting. A thought strikes her, and she looks back, smirking to him.

“If we are really doing this, then let’s just talk about how easily you wet yourself even when I dry hump you!”

Harry’s laugh ceases; he looks down at her, eyebrows crooked up. “That’s because I let myself do so!”

“Oh, shud up!” Y/N drawls, tittering.

Harry shakes his head, leaning in closer to her. “I am a control freak, I can control myself real bad.” He states it to her.

“Oh, but, baby.” Y/N hold his chest muscles in her hands, looking him in the eyes. “I know your body like the back of my hand, and you ain’t got no control over your horny self!” She mocks him.

Harry fumes; clutching her wrists, he pins her down on the bed; Y/N wrestling from underneath him, stopping him from nearing close.

“Do you intend to challenge me, Miss Y/N Y/L/N?” He rasps out.

Y/N chuckles, intertwining their fingers to get a better grip at the wrestle. “Oh, I don’t fight losers!”

“Loser you!” He ducks down quick, overpowering her; his lips meet at her neck, and Y/N gasps, pushing him with all her might, and succeeding in bringing him underneath  her.

“We’ll see about that, Styles!” She says, pinning his hands down on his sides, panting from the exertion. Harry leans forward from the mattress, to her, chattering his teeth as in to bite her, and she flinches, squealing, away from him.

“Let’s do it, then.” Harry pants. “Let me give you a good taste of defeat, aye?”

“Alright, you’re done, baby.” Y/N gets off of him, standing off the bed, hands on her hips. “The one who loses wears the opposite teams color for the whole match.”

Harry sits up, surprised. “So, you don’t support the Packers?!” He panics.

“You’re on their side so I have to oppose you.” Y/N shrugs.

“Oh, dear.” Harry gasps, rubbing his hands over the length of his face. “Y/N, I have to say this, but I think we’ll have to reconsider our relationship-“

“Harry, it’s just for the bet!” Y/N gives him an ambushed look. “C’mon, now, get ready. I’m getting the stopwatch - I am counting on every second!”

“Oh, you’re on, baby!”

**

So, it begins.

The room is eerily quiet; Y/N lies on the bed, naked, her phone in her hand as she scrolls through her feed, waiting for Harry to show up from the bathroom.

A moment later, the bathroom lock clicks, Harry walks out, dressed in just his boxers, hair damp with water dripping on his shoulders. Y/N puts her phone away on the side table, folding her legs close to her chest as she watches him come close to her.

A hot, bothering gasp leaves her lips as she eyes him, walking up to her in an absolute seductive, dominant manner, and she’s squeezing her legs, feeling her strength falter.

“No talking.” She tells him, as he sits down before him, on the bed. She points out her weakness; it completely has her pooling if he starts to urge her, talk to her while getting down. His silky voice, wrapped with raspy touch he adds, makes it absolutely inevitable to not lose control.

“My turn, my rules.” He says, smirking at her. He sits in a crawling position, eyeing her bent knees, and then meets her eyes. Slowly, with his hands, he holds her knees, parting them, till he has enough space to fit in between.

Y/N’s breathing shakes, she covers her mouth with her hand to hide the fact.

Harry bites his lip. “Seems you’d be falling apart even before I touch you.”  

Y/N’s eyes narrow, and she keeps quiet.

Harry leans forward, till his stomach is pressed against her crotch, and his face digs into her breast. “C’mon, talk to me, kitten. You know I love it when you do.” He muses, dipping his head over her left breast, brushing his lips over the supple nipple; Y/N feeling the reeling effect down to her core.

“Kitten?” She tries to distract her mind by talking. “That’s out of syllabus, Harry.”

Harry looks up, smiling wickedly. “Surprise, surprise.”

Y/N groans, throwing her head back. Her body leans onto the headboard, as Harry goes down on her, kissing the way down to her thighs.

“It’s a torture.” He begins, kissing her stomach. “Going this slow on you, I know how much you like it when I’m..rough.” He blows over the skin of her torso, dipping low to kiss her navel  with a loud smacking sound.

Y/N whimpers loud, her hands tightening around the sheets under her, her eyes falling shut.

Harry sits up, rubbing circles on her knees to only slide his hands down, cupping her thighs in them.

He kisses her inner thighs, his breath brushing past her clit now and then, giving her shudders through her body.

“Soft, so soft.” Harry coos, sucking on her skin.

“Harry.” Y/N grunts.

“Mhm?” Harry looks up. “Coming already, are you?”

“No.” Y/N snorts. “The stopwatch, I didn’t start it.”

Harry gives her an accusing look, before leaning forward to get the stopwatch in his hands, setting it down after doing the necessary.

“Good that I got you aroused before.” He says, as he fits himself back in between her legs.

“Not really.” She teases, shrugging her shoulder casually.

This has Harry bubbling with rage, and he lifts her side, slapping down on her behind. She groans, chuckling at his behavior.

“You bad girl, bad, bad, girl.” He shakes his head, slapping hard again. “How does that feel? Does it tickle your core, kitten? Does it give you an electric buzz? Hm?”

Y/N tightens her lips, reluctant to spill out the moan captivated in her mouth.

Harry’s grip around her thighs tighten, and bringing them close, he suddenly spreads them apart with a jerk, having her gasp loud at the suddenness occur at the stretch. He starts to kiss her from the chest again, playing around with her nipple before tugging them with his teeth, causing her to whimper.

Trailing down, he’s right below her stomach, his lips hovering for too long, before he duck down to suck at the skin. Y/N’s hands clutch at the sheets tighter, his scruff above his lips tickling her skin uneven, and she’s having a bad urge to touch herself down there.

His breath then feels over her core, warm and contrasting to the chill caused to it from being exposed.

He bops his nose over her entrance, leaving a few pecks right on spot but going no deeper, and he pulls away.

An unintentional grunt escapes her, she opens her eyes to look at him eyeing her down. The desperation builds in the pits of her gut, and she’s forced to open her mouth.

“Harry, you’re running out of time.”

His eyes twinkle hearing her say so. “Ah, so Kitten’s giving in, is she now?” He muses.” It doesn’t seem so hard anymore.”

He leans back down between her, gliding his lips teasingly over her thighs. “Tell me, kitten, d’ya want me now? Here, right here?” His fingers touch her entrance, brushing past the skin, making her arch her back, and bite down on her lip in suppression.

“Mhm.” She hums.

Harry ducks low, finally attaching his mouth onto her entrance the way she likes, and a moan escapes her lips in approval.

“Let me see you come, kitten. Give it to me, baby, give me your taste..” Harry moans into her, slipping his tongue past her walls, and furiously flicking it against her core.

“Ah, Harry.” The pain builds in her gut; her hands sliding into his hair, clutching hard to ease her tension. She can’t be coming now; it’s way too early.

Her breathing accelerates, she is pulling herself from the feeling; tensed and sweaty, her groans seem to not cease anymore.

“Come for me, baby, come for me.” Harry urges, his hot breath fanning deep into her, and accentuating the already build up feeling her.

Harry takes her skin in his mouth, sucking down. This makes her thrust herself down onto his mouth, wanting his lips just everywhere on her. Harry’s hands wrap around her thighs, digging his fingernails into her supple skin, as he leaves open mouthed kisses on her, separating her walls with his tongue then and now to lick her off within.

“Baby, I need you.” He begs, looking up at her. She has tears at the corner of her eyes, her mouth is open. Her face pumps Harry; she can’t do it anymore – he assures himself. “Kitten, come for me, I need you, I wanna-“ He kisses her again down, breathing hard against her core. “I wanna taste you, you sweet, sweet, baby. Give it to me, gimme yourself. C’mon, kitten.”

A shudder goes down her body; and she’s had it. Tears don’t stop anymore, her hands tighten at his roots as his mouth attaches back on her, and his tongue doesn’t care for being gentle.

She reaches her climax, screaming his name, as the feeling of holding back now feels fatal. Her hands leave his hair; they come up, covering her eyes, as she realizes her defeat. Harry chuckles, as he wipes her clean, flicking his tongue on everywhere to have her sweet flavor reside in his tongue.

He sits up, reaching for the stopwatch, and he points it to her, laughing. “Two minutes fifty eight seconds, babe.”

Y/N groans against her hands. Harry leans forward to her, trying to pull her hands away, but she, like a grumpy child, keeps them intact.

“Look at you.” He laughs, hands wrapped around her wrists. “Acting like a little kid. It’s not about winning or losing, Y/N, but I have a strong feeling that I’ll win.” Her hands flies, slapping his shoulder. He ducks, pulling away her hands with force, to find her face red in anger.

His laugh has no control. “Sweetheart.” He muses, reaching forward to kiss her, but she pulls away, pouting her lips.

This has him laughing even more. “C’mon, you.”

“It’s all the fault of you calling me kitten!” She finally speaks, but all angry.

Harry coos. “It’s such a sweet name, who knew it would get you all weak.” He chuckles.

Y/N eyes narrow. “Oh, I still have my turn left. It’s not game over, yet!”

“First, gimme a kiss, please.” She leans up from the mattress, puckering her lips to give a quick peck, but realizing his mouth taste so good, she goes for another kiss, and ends up letting him take control.

**

She sits up on his hips, fingers brushing against the hemline of his boxer briefs.

“I could totally get you off by just dry humping.” She challenges, biting her lip.

Harry sets the stop watch, musing.” We haven’t got much time, honey.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, chuckling sarcastically. “Ah-ha, baby. You’d be coming with just a flick of my ass over your pants.”

Harry gives her an amused smirk. “Ready, set, go!”

Y/N’s lips duck to his neck, pressing her lips against his sweet spot, kissing on while her hands palm him through his briefs. Her lips trail down, kissing his nipples, then the smaller ones, having him leave a throaty chuckle.

She kisses down his stomach, on his moth tattoo, giving a delicious moan as her lips press down. Harry’s figure shudders – her guess totally correct at his weakness: her making sounds.

Trailing down, she kisses him over his navel, giving a smacking sound, that has his breathing deepening in anticipation. Her come over the bulge in between his legs, kissing down while she looks up at him through her eyelashes. Their eyes meet, and Harry’s quick to look away, biting his lip.

Smirking, she reaches for the hemline of his boxers, dragging them down his legs. His member comes springing out into her hand, and she clutches it tight, looking up at him as she rises in a sitting position.

“Mine.” She says, moving towards him; their lips meet in a quick kiss. “Only mine.” She kisses him again, getting their chest to touch; her nipples against his warm skin, and she leaves a throaty moan into his mouth, his groan following simultaneously.

His face turns somber, tension etched clearly in the clouds before his eyes – all signs of amusement vanished in just a few moments. Y/N’s hands pumps him, slowly and achingly, giving him a hard time breathing.

“Baby, don’t stop.” Harry says in a fragile tone, his eyes falling close.

“I won’t.” Y/N moans, kissing his mouth softly. She sits on his one thigh, rubbing herself against his hairy skin.

She looks down at her hand, pumping his hard, swollen self, and an inevitable moan escapes her lips, body rocking faster against his thigh.

She bends down slowly, bumping her nose against his tip, and he gasps, searching down in anticipation. She brushes her lips, sliding her body down to rest in between his legs. Harry can’t keep his eyes off of her, as he waits to let her take him in his mouth.

“Turn over.” She looks up at him.

“What?”

“Turn. Over” She says again, eyes boring into his.

“You mean, you’re gonna-“

“Mm-hmm.” She nods innocently, Harry’s eyes’s widening.

He does as she says, lying flat on his stomach. Her lips come over his back, kissing along the length of his spin, stopping just above his spine. A moan leaves his lip, fidgeting slightly as he waits for her.

Her hands clutch his bare behind, kneading in her petite hands. Harry feels a shudder, his breath accelerating.

“Such a pretty ass.” She muses, leaning down to kiss over each cheek.

“You’ve never done this.” Harry stutters.

“Surprise, surprise.”

Urging his hips to buck up, she gets him to kneel with his behind to her. Harry’s body seems shivering, completely losing senses, as Y/N’s hand spread his cheeks apart, running a slick finger against the line.

Harry’s hips buck, his teeth chattering in longing. Y/N’s lips replace her finger, leaving a small peck, and that has Harry groaning like a wild animal. He is breathing through his mouth, as her lips press onto his more, kissing him repeatedly, before her tongue gives a poke.

Harry jumps in his place, Y/N’s tongue doing a flick on him, and he is crying out, reaching his hands behind to clutch her head. Y/N lets out a moan as his hand reach her hair, the moan vibrating in through his body, sending a line of cusses and moans leave his mouth.

Pulling away, Y/N turns him back over to her. Harry sits up, his face red, sweat and breathing absolutely out of control.

She takes no time, bending down to reach his hard erection, and takes him in her mouth, moaning when he fills her to her throat. She pumps the rest of him, fondling his balls in her hand, as she bobs her head against him. The intensity of all of the activities has Harry’s mind driving out of control, he clutches her hair in his hand, and throws his head back, living in the moment.

He feels the pressure intensify within him, but he remembers to pull back, albeit the torture he feels in doing so.

Y/N’s cheeks hollow around him, her moans loud and shaking, leaving him with redness spreading all over his stomach and chest from the exertion of holding back. She bobs faster, pulling him completely out of her mouth, kissing and petting his tip, before taking him in again, leaving him absolutely pleasured with the contrasting change of temperature.

His toes curl as her warm mouth covers him, and it’s before he can comprehend that he twitches and come into her mouth, groaning.

She pulls away, reaching him. His fingers cup her chin, wiping off the dripping juice over it. They look into one another’s eyes, and suddenly, they are kissing each other, escalating the process as Harry has her pinned against the mattress, his member in his hand, resting right at her entrance.

He thrusts into her, not pulling away from the kiss, as his hips buck and thrust into her hips. They are moving together, in sync; Harry gets control, pulling away from the kiss to love her neck. Their arms wrap around each other, pressing one another’s body close till there wasn’t even air to pass through, as he rocks above her, thrusting in hard and fast.

Their groans sound deep, husky and loud; they’re in absolute lack of control, and for the second time, Y/N finds herself falling apart in his arms, lips together, feeling him deeply around her clenching walls.

They pause, breathing hard against each other, taking time to get over the euphoria of all of the moments. It is while later that Y/N remembers something.

“Harry!” She calls, him, shaking his slumped body over her. “The stopwatch, it’s still running!”

Harry gets up slowly, limbs aching, back aching, as he reaches over to the stopwatch, smiling in victory.

“Ha-ha. Four minutes fifty five seconds.” He shows it to her.

Y/N sits up, annoyed. “But, we need the time after you came, not after everything!”

“Whatever!” Harry does his victory dance. “I know I won.”

“No, we don’t have the clear results!” Y/N protests.

“Oh, shud up!” He drawls. “Every loser says that.”

“No!” She whines. “It’s a tie!”

Harry only laughs, teasing her.

“Wait!” Realization comes over her. “If I subtract the time it took me to get off to the total time of what we did, it comes out to be….two minutes seven seconds!” Her eyes widen, she’s genuinely delighted.

“What?” Harry looks at her, confused.

“It’s Maths, Styles! And I won!” Y/N does her happy dance.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Harry counters, shaking his head. “Let’s just make it a tie.”

“No!”

“Yes! Because you of course came early this time. We can’t consider the previous time.” He explains.

Y/N’s eyes roll up in thought. She sighs, groaning. Harry laughs at her. “So, it’s a tie!” He says. “C’mon, now, let’s get dressed.”

“But, you’re cheating, Harry. I clearly won!”

“Shut your mouth or I’d be making you come the third time.”

**

Harry slumps, looking down at the Seahawks color shirt he’s wearing. His arms cross over his chest, the television ahead of him turned on, waiting for the match to begin. He makes a face, staring at the screen with a frown.

The door to the room then opens, his friends coming inside together, all hooting and shouting his name.

Harry’s eyes widen, as he turns to his mates.

“Harry..?” They all say together, giving confused looks. “Man, have you lost your mind? You’re abandoning the Packers?”

“No, no-“

“Hi, boys.” Y/N walks in, beer cans and snacks in a cart ahead of her. All the boys look t her with smiles.

They turn to Harry. “Y/N’s got so better taste than you, Styles.”

“No!” Harry covers up. “She’s the one supporting the Seahawks!”

“Oh, shut up, Harry.” Y/N pops in. “Why would you support anyone else when there’s the mighty Packers.”

All the gents chuckle with her, giving her high-five, and eyeing Harry rudely, they settle on the couch before the television.

Harry glares at her, gritting his teeth.

“Have fun, boys!” She says, blowing an annoying kiss at Harry, before walking out of the room, laughing.

MASTERLIST

Angel

This has been in the works for months and months. I simply haven’t had the inspiration nor the time to write honestly. It’s not my best writing, but I tried to get myself back into things. I’ve missed writing and you guys

Warning: SMUT

Length: 7,000+ words

               It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. Those sweet lips of his shouldn’t have been so bitter. Those eyes weren’t supposed to be so dark.

               To be fair, tonight was the one night that everyone could be whoever they wanted to. You had just fallen for his innocent ploy. How were you supposed to know those wings of his were real?

               It was Halloween. The sky was blackened and overcast, consuming the moon’s light. Careful of the brisk cold, you chose a costume that allowed for you to cover up well. Your long white dress dragged against the concrete even though you were wearing high heels. Your friend pulled you along, rushing you as if you were terribly late. There was still plenty of time though. You had all night.

               Someone had rented a club to throw a party. You had no idea who, but apparently they were a friend of a friend and that meant that you had somehow received a gorgeous black invitation with loopy orange lettering. Not one to refuse an opportunity to be someone else for a few hours, you graciously accepted and now you were trying to navigate through the gray fog covering the venue’s floor without stepping on anyone’s feet.

               There were more people here than you had expected and though you had entered holding your friend’s hand, she was suddenly nowhere to be found. The sea of masks made it near impossible to search for her. However, you weren’t too concerned. You would end up crossing paths again at some point.

               You decided to hold the hem of your gown as you strolled to make sure you didn’t trip as the ground was virtually undetectable under the man-made smoke. Hoisting yourself up onto a stool by the bar, you got your bearing as you sat and observed. The club was eerily beautiful with glass chandeliers casting a blue tinted glow on the shimmering onyx walls and floors.

               A tap on your shoulder startled you out of your awe. Spinning in your seat, you came face to face with the bartender. He wore a cape and fake elongated canine teeth for a vampire feel. He wanted to know if you wanted a drink.

               The corners of your lips upturned. In fact, you did. “Could you make something that goes with my costume?” you asked playfully.

               He smiled at your request but his white contact lenses made the expression seem sinister. “Anything for an angel,” he replied flirtily.

               You were grateful that he could tell your intended guise as you weren’t wearing fake wings. But to be fair, you had your back to him earlier, so maybe he has caught sight of the huge black wings tattooed on your skin. Though your white dress had long sleeves and was floor length, it was also totally backless. It exposed your ink well. If your gold halo didn’t give away what you were attempting, a good look at your back would.

               The bartender came back with something bubbling in a wine glass with flecks of gold leaf floating the in honey-colored liquid.

               “What is it?” you inquired as you handed the handsome blood sucker a bill.

               “Unicorn blood,” he answered with a wink.

               You appreciated his cleverness in the choice. Wiggling your fingers in farewell, you stood to leave.

               “Come back for some Hell Fire,” he called after you. You nodded without looking back and made no promises.

               Taking a sip from your glass, you were pleasantly surprised by the taste of passion fruit mixed with champagne. The sweetness cut the bitterness and the carbonation lightened the thickness of the juice. You really were going to have to return for that Hell Fire if it was anything like this.

               A firm hand gripped your elbow and you whipped around so fast that you almost spilled your cocktail. It was your friend, looking sexier than before in her police woman outfit now that she was sweating a little. She had found the dance floor without you and had even found herself a Joker to sway with. Kindly, he accepted you as an adoption to their duo and you danced with your friend as she danced with the both of you.

               Draining your Unicorn’s blood after a few songs, you decided to leave your friend to her criminal and sought out the bar again. There was a line this time and you secured yourself a small section of counter to lean against as you waited. You draped your hair to one side as you could feel the alcohol and dancing warm you from the inside. Not wanting your makeup to melt just yet, you fanned yourself with your hands. The gold bangles that adorned your wrists tinkled musically loud enough to catch the bartender’s attention. He flashed his fangs at you teasingly as he mixed a margarita.

               You were mid-chuckle when you felt a chill crawl up your spine. Goose bumps erupted on your arms and you searched for the cause. Eyes darting around, you caught sight of a tall man dressed in all black staring at you from across the room. He stood completely still even as you locked eyes. You couldn’t read his expression as an elegant mask made of lace obscured half of his face. The fabric was a stunning shade of crimson, which was at complete odds with his charcoal suit. But it did have the benefit of drawing your interest straight to his eyes, which were piercing.

Keep reading

Handwriting 2/2

I said I would write a Steve POV for this and then kind of forgot? Well, I finally remembered, so here it is!

I just reblogged part one, but you can find it here.

4200 words, watch for the cut!


When he was growing up, writing on the skin was a difficult prospect. He’d been taught that it was rude to write anywhere that might show up in an embarrassing place for his soulmate. Arms, hands, even lower legs and the tops of the feet were out, but writing anywhere that was covered by clothing was lewd and shameful. What if his soulmate had taken her shirt off one night and found his name written on her chest or thighs? The very idea had been enough to make his teenage-self flush in shameful arousal and had led to more than one embarrassing situation.

The compromise had been the bottom of the feet. His mom wrote his name for him the first, spelled out in flowing letters from his heel to the bottom of his toes on his left foot. It had tickled and she’d only been able to write a letter at a time so he could stop and giggle. She’d ended up sitting on him so he couldn’t accidentally wiggle out of her grip half-way through, and when she’d finished he had to sit with his foot on the window sill to let the ink dry.

“Now your solemate will know your name,” his mom had teased, tickling his opposite foot until he was shrieking with laughter. He didn’t get the pun until many years later when he’d learned to spell.

He’d checked his opposite foot every few minutes those first couple of days, waiting for another name to appear. Everyone knew that soul ink didn’t start manifesting until after soulmates had touched skin-to-skin, so playing tag at school took on a new context that Steve had found a little cruel. Mostly it was the boys chasing after the girls, while the girls tried to escape. Steve had never been very good at running anyways, so he’d ended up helping the girls hide while he’d misdirected the boys’ efforts around the playground.

Still, he continued to check his right foot every night, and when the ink started to fade, he’d trace over the letters again and again.

By the time he made it to high school, writing his name on his foot had become a habit as much as combing his hair or tying his shoes. By then, his classmates had started flouting the rules – names would appear in small writing on palms or wrists, and Steve had once seen Mary Lewis edge up her skirt so she could write on the inside of her thigh, right there in class. Anyone who was caught with visible ink got lines or cleaning duty, but that didn’t stop them. Bucky ended up in detention for a whole month when he’d taken a paint brush to write “HELLO SWEET THING” all the way up his left forearm in thick, tall letters.  

A few of his classmates paired off and used their soul ink to pass notes back and forth in class, and Steve would feel the bottom of his foot tingling whenever he caught one of them at it.

After his mom died, he’d covered his entire chest in ink – doodles, words, meaningless slashes of thick lines over his ribs and across his heart. No one wrote back, but Bucky had walked into the room and caught him at it one day. It was a private thing, and almost as bad as someone catching him touching himself like that, but Steve had just forced himself to straighten up and let his shirt hang open so Bucky could see the ruin he’d made of his skin. Bucky hadn’t said a thing, just set his fingertips on the messy scrawl of ‘Where are you?’ and then pulled Steve’s shirt closed and did up the buttons.

~*~

The USO tour had been a different kind of thing. He’d been in the dressing room with the girls every night, and once they’d gotten used to him, they hadn’t been shy about taking their clothes off with him hiding behind a dressing screen trying to get into or out of his tights.

Some of the girls had a lot of ink. Lisa’s torso was painted from just under the line of her ribs to the crease of her hipbones, and Annabel had a permanent tattoo on the sole of her left foot. The other girls had called her brave and giggled with her when she’d shown them all, and Steve should have looked away because ink was private, but he’d been so stunned by the very idea of a permanent tattoo (on a dame no less) that he’d just stared at her with his mouth hanging open.

“You’re such a boy, Steve Rogers,” she’d said, nudging his hip with her tattooed foot. “I just got tired of writing it over and over, so I figured this was better.”

“Who would even do that for you?” he’d babbled to the laughter of the girls around him.

“I did it, silly,” Annabel had said, and then had given him a sly look and asked, “You want one?”

Steve had turned about seven shades of red and got himself out of the dressing room as fast as he could without hurting anyone.

It hadn’t taken long for the girls to find out that he was an artist. By the end of the tour he’d been writing and drawing on them by request, all the while aware that his mother would have had a heart attack if she’d caught him putting ink on a lady who wasn’t his soulmate. She’d have gone apoplectic if she’d walked into that one hotel room in Minnesota with Steve sprawled on a squeaky bed in nothing but his shorts with six girls drawing on his skin.

~*~

The Army was another brand of different. They didn’t have ink just lying around, but that wasn’t about stop the guys from writing lewd messages on themselves. After better than a year with the choir girls, Steve had lost all of his shyness about ink, and their early attempts to shock him with their writing had only escalated when he hadn’t responded with the shock they’d expected.

The Howling Commandos used charcoal mostly, or campfire ash. If one of the guys fell asleep on watch, whoever found him would scrawl all over his face and then kick his ass awake. Steve mostly turned a blind eye to it, even that time that they’d found a stash of Nazi liquor and gotten rip-roaring drunk. Dum Dum had come up with the bright idea to strip naked and write Suck It on his cock with the fountain pen they’d found in the base commander’s desk. Dum Dum had been sore and itchy for days afterward and Steve hadn’t felt a bit of pity for him.

He hadn’t found it quite as funny when Bucky had wrestled him to the ground and wrote I won’t give away my sniper’s nest in the goddamned field like a fucking idiot all over his chest.

“Don’t blaspheme on my skin, Buck,” Steve had tried to protest, but his soulmate could be a person of faith, but he’d just gotten another goddamn fucking idiot for his efforts, and really, he’d deserved it.

~*~

Keep reading

Creepypasta #1030: Copycat

Length: Medium

About a year ago I got a new neighbor. The day she moved in I have to confess to being a bit curious. She turned up with two large shopping bags and disappeared into the house. There was no van turned up full of furniture, no cars full of boxes, nothing, which struck me as very odd. For a start what was she going to sleep on?

For the first couple of days she just said hello when she saw me, which I had no problem with. I like to be on good terms with my neighbors.

Now I need to point out, I spent a lot of time sitting in my yard. I smoke, but not in the house and I had a very old dog that needed to go out to pee about a million times a day. In the summer I loved to garden and I’ve always been out there more than I’m in. My door is right next to the low fence that separates the two properties.

The next time I saw her she came scuttling over to the fence and introduced herself as Margaret, and I told her my name was Debra. She was a small blob of a woman who looked in serious need of a very long shower. Her clothes were baggy and nondescript, but she seemed friendly enough. She told me she hadn’t been happy in her last home as she didn’t know anyone and hadn’t managed to make any friends.

I told her a few little things about myself, just things like my name and how long I’d lived there, but I didn’t find her very easy to talk to. As the conversation dried up she just stood and stared at me. Before things got awkward I made my excuses and went back into the house.

After that things changed. Gradually over the course of a week or so I saw her more and more. Her kitchen, which was built on to the back of the house, overlooked my garden, and every time I went out I could see her standing staring out the window at me. I’d be out no longer than five minutes and she’d be there. 

Our conversations consisted of her either questioning me about everything I did, “Where was I going?”, “what was I doing?” and even “what was I cooking?” or those long weird silences where she just stood and stared at me while my brain fumbled about trying to make conversation and not be rude. These conversations always ended up with me making some excuse and coming back inside.

I tried looking busy and gardening. I’d stop for a little while and have a short chat and then say something like “Well, I’d really better get on” but she never took the hint. As I weeded and watered she’d still be there, hanging over the fence staring at me.

Sometimes one of the other neighbors would start chatting as they walked past. I’ve lived here a long time and I know most of my neighbors really well. No sooner than we started talking I’d hear this voice from behind me.

‘Hello Debra, nice day isn’t it?’

Part of me thought that the poor woman didn’t know anyone so obviously she wanted to meet the neighbors, but part of me wanted her to butt out.

I even tried lurking just inside my door to have my smoke, but that didn’t work either. I heard this voice drift across the yard, “Warm again isn’t it, Debra?”

Now I know I’m probably coming across as unfriendly, but I’m honestly not. It’s just my yard is my little bit of peace and quiet and I felt like I had nothing in common with this woman. I didn’t need a new best friend which is what I felt like she was aiming at.

Next thing I knew she’d gotten herself a little dog exactly the same breed as mine.

I put some clothes out in bags for the thrift store van, but before it came to collect she came knocking on my door asking if she could have them. I mean, what could I say without seeming mean and petty? I told her she was welcome to them. So now she was walking about dressing like me too.

I noticed a change in her mannerisms. It was like all that time she spent watching me she’d been taking mental notes. The habit I have of biting my lip when I’m slightly annoyed. The way I push my hair back out of my eyes. She seemed to me almost mirroring my behavior. I told myself I needed to get a grip and I was just being paranoid.

She got her hair cut and dyed the same color as mine. I tried to see it as a compliment.

I felt in some odd way that she was watching me and learning how to be a person.

She’d seemed so naive when I first met her, almost childlike, but she was changing.

The time that really got under my skin was when I left the house to go shopping, and there she was in the street talking to an old man that lives a few houses along. His vision isn’t the greatest and he literally stopped dead and his mouth fell open when he saw me. He’d thought he was talking to me.

A couple of weeks after that she got a tattoo. Not just any tattoo though, my tattoo. I have a large tribal one that runs down the left side of my back. Hers was exactly the same. She was so excited when she showed me it too. Like it was completely normal. I had no idea how she did it. I could only think at some point she’d taken a photo of my back when I was lying in the sun.

While she was showing me, I noticed another tattoo on her other shoulder. It was of a crows head in a raggedy looking circle. Hard to describe but really nice. It was also oddly familiar. I went back in and stomped round my house, swearing under my breath about her. It was a couple of hours later that it clicked in my mind. I’d seen that tattoo before. There was a bar I went to occasionally a few miles away, and there was a girl there regularly, with exactly the same tattoo.

That night I decided it was time for some Facebook stalking. I started off checking out the Facebook for the venue, flicking through it’s albums, and suddenly there she was. The girl with the crow tattoo. I kept flicking through seeing if she was tagged in any of them. Suddenly I froze.

In this particular photo the girl with the crow tattoo was standing smiling. She had pale pink hair shaved up one side. Standing next to her, with identical hair, in almost exactly the same clothes was Margaret.

I took a screen shot of it and messaged everyone I knew with a copy. Margaret was freaking me out and I really wanted to talk to someone who knew her before.

Then a couple of weeks later I got a call. To begin with it barely registered who I was talking to. I was having a really crappy day. My little dog had escaped the garden. I’d popped into the house to make a cup of coffee and when I went back out she was just gone. I’d spent the day scouring the streets in a blind panic, so when my mobile rang my heart was in my mouth. My phone number was on her collar and I was hoping so much it was someone saying they’d found her.

“Hi, is that Debra?” the voice asked.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“My name’s Margaret. I’m the girl with the tattoo, and I understand you’ve been trying to get a hold of me?”

I was instantly confused. Were they both called Margaret? I explained about my neighbor and how I thought maybe they knew each other.

“If she’s who I think she is, she used to be my neighbor and her name’s not Margaret. She stole that from me. I haven’t got time to explain but I need her address. The police are looking for her.” Her voice shook with an emotion I didn’t understand.

So I did. I gave her Margaret’s address.

Within ten minutes the street was full of police cars, but they never found her.

They found my dog, in a bag in the freezer.

They found a wall covered in photos of me, taken through my windows during the night. There was even one of me getting changed, tattoo on full display.

I guess in a way I was the lucky one though, because when the real Margaret had called the police about her, not only had they found a wall covered in photos of her, they’d found her two missing children in the freezer.

She still hasn’t been found, and I’m guessing she didn’t manage to get away with more than a couple of carrier bags of stuff. So if you should happen to get a new neighbor, a small nondescript blob of a woman who seems overly keen to be friends I’d suggest you avoid her. Oh, and as a heads up, she’ll probably tell you her name is Debra.

Credits to: hrhdaf

since i can’t seem to stop cranking out pynch oneshots this week have another one (with a side of bluesy because why not):

It may have started as a joke, but Adam’s not laughing now.

It’s been a few months since everything happened. Some things (Blue finally being able to kiss Gansey) have been easier to adapt to than others (Noah’s disappearance, Ronan and Adam finding themselves co-parenting a half-goat girl) but they’re making it work.

Truly, Adam’s biggest problem at the moment is trying to decide if he wants to keep one or both of his jobs over the summer to save up for any college expenses not covered by his (very, very generous) full-ride scholarship.

And Ronan’s current outfit. That’s definitely jumped to the top of Adam’s list of problems.

Henry had decided they needed more fun in their lives and that it was time they acted like the teenagers they are before September rolls around and everyone goes their separate ways (well, Henry, Blue and Gansey are going one way and Adam and Ronan are going two other ways but the point still stands).

His lease for the Litchfield house is up at the end of June and he decides to have one last blow out party to celebrate.

But not just any party.

A costume party.

“You do know it’s fucking June, right?” Ronan had muttered when Henry had burst into Monmouth carrying streamers and cans of glittery spray paint.

“That I do, Lynch. Which is why it’s a costume party and not a Halloween party.” Henry had said with a grin.

And that was that.

Now it’s the morning of the party and Adam’s having a hard time keeping his mouth shut as he sprawls out on the bed and watches his boyfriend get ready. Ronan, pissy about dressing up (“It’s a costume party Lynch I think you can chill out on the whole ‘I don’t lie’ thing in this particular case”) had decided that if he was going to be forced to be someone else for the night, then naturally it would be at Gansey’s expense.

One orange polo shirt and a pair of pressed khaki shorts later and Adam is having a crisis. He’s never really been into Gansey’s particular aesthetic (neither had Blue, actually, which Adam privately finds hilarious) but there’s something about Ronan wearing his signature items that’s doing something to him.

Keep reading

A War Fought at Home

Corporal Natsu Dragneel has been through Hell, and unfortunately for him, the ride isn’t quite over. How will a new Rehab program at the local VA help? And will a certain blonde help make matters better? 

Modern Military AU. Warnings for mentions of depression and adult language/situations. Other warnings to come as the story progresses. Cross post on AO3 and FF.net. 

“Come on, dude, you know you should go.”

Natsu Dragneel struggled to sit up in his queen-sized bed, the rays of sunlight causing him to squint as he moved about. He threw off the red and black striped down comforter and breathed in as deep as his lungs could manage. His pain killers from overnight were already starting to wear off and the sharp sensations were attacking him every time he forced his legs to move so much as an inch. His chair was in front of him, beside the bed as it had been since the day he was released from the hospital. Gods how he hated that thing. All it did was remind him of who he used to be, back before it all happened.

Summoning all his strength, Natsu lifted himself from the bed and plopped himself down in the wheelchair, taking a minute to collect himself before making his way toward the door. Looking in the full-length mirror beside the closet door, across from his bed, he was greeted by the image of a man he hardly knew. His hair was long and shaggy, he still had his muscle from years of physical activity and training but they weren’t nearly as defined. His eyes, once a bright emerald green were now a dingy shade of forest green, almost black and lacking emotion. He was wearing Marine-issue sweatpants with a black tank top, his tattoos swirling over his shoulder and right arm. Above the mirror hung multiple medals and certificates from his years of service but all they did was make him angry. If he could stand to remove them, he would have, just so he didn’t have to relive the bullshit over again every single day.

Keep reading