mattress flip

Cat Nap

Originally posted by grayground

Cat Nap
[Gray comes home to see you asleep in his bed.]

After a long work shift, you found yourself dragging your feet, dreading the commute home. You had to take two buses and climb up six flights of stairs just to get to make it to your creaky bed. Maybe it was time to just flip the mattress? But who actually had time for that?

Instead of heading home you found yourself stopping off in Hongdae. Just a few blocks from the station was your boyfriends apartment. You were completely on autopilot as you made your way to his unit. Typing in his key code and dropping your bag by the door. Slipping your shoes and your jacket off you padded into his room and sank down on his bed. Sunghwa was always a little over the top when it came to decorative blankets and pillows and as much as you teased him for it, you adored how comfortable it made his bed. 

It was like sleeping on a cloud. It never creaked, the springs didn’t hurt your back. And on top of it all, it smelled like him. His cologne mixed with his natural scent and it was just so welcoming. You weren’t in bed two minutes before you were whisked off to a deep sleep. 

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anonymous asked:

how about a good ol smut, no kinks/strap-ons, just alex and maggie using their fingers, tongues, scissoring, being just slow, sweet, and lovey dovey, just making casual love. Bonus if they are on Alex's kingsize bed, and Kara walks in on them, because Kara will never stop walking in on people


Maggie just grins and looks away, dimples out and blushing full force.

“Nothing, Danvers.”

Alex tilts her head and furrows her brow, clapping her book shut and shoving it down onto her mattress, flipping her glasses up to rest on the top of her hair for good measure.

“No, Maggie, you were staring! What?”

Maggie bites the inside of her cheek and puts her left hand up to her chin, shuffling her feet slightly.

“Nothing, Alex, you just… You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And sometimes it just… hits me, you know? That you’re… everything that you are, and for some reason, you want to share yourself and – ” She tosses her hands up at Alex’s apartment, toward her massive, room-sized bed. “ – all this, with… me.”

Alex takes a deep, silent breath and purses her lips off to the side before shoving her book to the foot of the bed and patting the mattress next to her.

“Come here,” she invites, and she delights in watching Maggie pad forward, jumping up slightly to kneel beside Alex.

“You know I think the same about you? About how lucky I am to have you? I’m in awe of it every day. I’m in awe of you every day.”

“Alex,” Maggie whispers as Alex runs her fingers over her hair.

“Come here,” Alex invites again, and this time it’s a whisper. This time, it’s a plea. This time, it’s a prayer.

Maggie smiles and complies, letting her eyes flutter closed as her hair sweeps over to frame both her face and Alex’s, to frame the way their lips meet, soft and sweet and slow.

Alex sighs into Maggie’s mouth, and Maggie melts into Alex’s arms.

“Can I come on top of you?” she asks softly, and Alex brings her knees down immediately so Maggie can bring her body closer, so she can crawl up and over her legs and straddle her, their lips close the entire time.

“You’re so warm,” Alex whispers when she runs a tentative hand up Maggie’s shirt, and Maggie leans back with a grin.

“Nebraska girl, California weather,” she breathes, putting her hands on the hem of her own shirt and asking with her eyes if Alex wants her to take it off.

“Please,” Alex whispers eagerly, and Maggie tugs the t-shirt over her head smoothly, leaving Alex breathless because she’s not wearing a bra under it, because her skin is bare and Alex can see every scar and every stretch mark and Alex loves every part.

Maggie grins and goes back down to kiss her, but Alex stills her with soft hands.

“Wait, wait, wait. I just… I just wanna look at you.”

Tears sting Maggie’s eyes and she nods and breathes deep, breathes slow, breathes the way Alex outlines her body with trembling fingers, leans forward to paint murals on her torso with reverent lips.

“May I?” she asks with her hands, her lips, hovering just shy of Maggie’s breasts.

“Yeah,” Maggie whispers, and god, Alex’s fingers, her lips, her tongue, are gentle fire, tracing every nuance and every bump of Maggie’s chest, tracing circle after smaller circle until she looks up to confirm and Maggie whimpers softly with gentle fingers tangled in Alex’s hair, and it’s all the permission Alex needs to close her mouth around Maggie’s slowly hardening nipple.

“Ally,” Maggie pants with her head tossed back, and Alex moans softly as she works her tongue every which way across her nipple, one hand snaking around her arched back to hold her up, to hold her steady, the other grasping at her other breast, teasing her other nipple in gentle rhythm with her tongue.

“Alex, I – ”

Alex stops immediately, but Maggie whines in protest.

“No, god, don’t stop, I just… I want more…”

“More of what, princess?” Alex husks softly, and Maggie whimpers again and grinds her hips down around Alex’s.

“More of you.”

Alex beams and shifts Maggie easily off of her, not worrying for even a moment that she won’t have room, because her bed can more than accommodate what she has in mind for her girlfriend next.

She kneels and she shucks out of her own clothes slowly, keeping her eyes the entire time on Maggie, who’s topless and panting and leaning up on her elbows like she’s staring at a work of art.

Alex leaves her glasses on top of her head for good measure, and Maggie grins softly, appreciatively.

“Like I said, Danvers. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I want more of you too, Maggie,” Alex tells her, and her statement is a question, and Maggie answers with a smile, answers by digging her heels into the bed and arching her hips up so she can pull off her boxers, giggling along with Alex as she tugs off her socks and chucks them somewhere into the kitchen.

“I hope they didn’t wind up under the counter again,” Alex muses, and Maggie smirks.

“That really the life problem you wanna occupy yourself with right now, Danvers?”

She licks her lips and she spreads her legs and Alex gulps and Alex splutters and Alex nearly passes out because Alex is very, very in love and Alex is very, very gay.

“I uh… I wouldn’t call this a… a problem…”

“Two choices, Danvers. Argue semantics with me, or get over here and make love to me. Or get over here and let me make love to you. So, three choices, I guess.”

Her words are sarcastic, but her voice is honey and her voice is affection and her voice is, in a word, love.

“The last two, please,” Alex whispers as she crawls forward with a smile, and Maggie returns her grin into their deep, deep kiss.

“Good choice, Alex.”

Alex hums in response and Maggie relishes the vibration the sound creates through Alex’s tongue in her mouth. She gasps softly as Alex shifts so her thigh is between Maggie’s legs.

“Good?” Alex confirms.

“Very,” Maggie grabs gently at her ass and pulls her closer.

It’s Alex’s turn to gasp as Maggie raises her own knee and takes Alex by the hips, her eyes never breaking contact as she uses her hands to encourage Alex up and down, up and down her thigh, moaning contentedly when Alex picks up her own rhythm and lets herself ride Maggie’s thigh with abandon, with peaceful recklessness, with trust and with soft screams of her name, of you’re beautiful, of I love you.

“You wanna cum for me, gorgeous?” Maggie asks, her voice thick with raw need, and Alex unravels, her entire body convulsing around Maggie’s thigh, in Maggie’s strong hands, her glasses falling off the top of her head and onto Maggie’s chest, and Maggie doesn’t care because god, god, god, this woman is perfection.

“Switch places,” Alex husks as soon as she rides out her last wave, but Maggie shakes her head.

“Babe, rest, you don’t have to – ”

“Oh, I am gonna rest. I’m gonna lay on my back for you and you’re gonna ride me like I just rode you until you cum as hard as I just did. Sound good?”

Maggie splutters and Alex chuckles as Maggie eagerly flips her over onto her back, slipping her thigh between Alex’s legs.

But when Alex goes to bend her knee, Maggie shakes her head.

“I wanna ride you, babe, but not your thigh right now. I want to feel your clit on mine.”

Alex hisses and tosses her head back into the pillow and shifts eagerly, shifts desperately, so Maggie can turn enough, adjust enough, until she’s dripping onto Alex’s own wetness, and the overwhelming heat of it, the way Maggie’s eyes flutter closed at the contact, wrecks Alex completely, thoroughly, permanently.

She knows Maggie can’t cum like this, no matter how hot they both find it – she can never get enough pressure, even on top, to toss her over the edge without hurting them both – so when she feels Maggie starting to lose control of her rhythm, when she feels her clit throbbing and soaked and desperate, when she hears her hissing in ecstatic frustration, Alex rasps, “Maggie, I wanna be inside you,” and Maggie practically topples over in eagerness to accommodate Alex’s hand between her legs.

“That something you want, babe?” she teases, her voice pure love, and Maggie chuckles raggedly.

“Hush up and fuck me, Danvers,” she croaks, and Alex makes sure her wrist is at a good angle, and Alex complies.

Maggie’s back arches and she tosses her head back and Alex’s name is a plea, a prayer, a hymn on her lips.

Alex slips one finger, two, more, deep, deep inside her, resting the back of her hand on her own thigh so that when Maggie grinds down for more pressure – riding Alex’s fingers for all either of them are worth – she gets enough of it to wreck her completely.

To toss her full and hard over the edge, to make her she collapse forward on top of Alex, bracing her hands onto the mattress, crashing her lips down to Alex’s as her body tightens around Alex’s fingers, as Alex whispers everything she needs to hear into her ear, everything about you’re beautiful and I love when you let go for me and I love you, Maggie, you, you, only you.

They’re so lost in each other’s eyes, in each other’s heartbeats, in each other’s arms, in each other’s love, that neither of them notice the front door opening.

And neither of them notice the front door closing, a blonde streak clutching at her chest and clawing at her glasses and muttering about “who doesn’t have a bedroom door? My sister. My sister doesn’t have a bedroom door. Sweet Rao I will never unsee that.”

Bed Cleansing Spell

For use when your bed is holding on to negative energies, memories, or thoughts. 

You will need:
-Clean sheets/bedding

1. Gather herbs into a pan, shell, stone, anything safe to burn herbs in.

2. Strip old sheets from the bed. As you do, imagine negative energy and thoughts coming away with them. Take them and throw them in the wash, using whatever you need to in the wash to make sure they’re clean and comfy when they come out. (I like adding softeners or laundry scent beads)

3. Start the sage and lavender burning, and let the cleansing smoke drift across the bared mattress. Flip the mattress if need be, and do the same with that side. Imagine the smoke as positive, clean energy, leaving no room for any lingering negative energy. Open a window if you can to let the smoke and the negativity escape that way. Saying affirmations at this point is a great idea! “This is my safe place,” “My bed is comfortable and clean,” “Only positive energy may linger here,” or “I have a great, restful sleep ahead of me tonight!” are all great ideas.

4. Make the bed well, taking your time, with nice, clean sheets.

5. (optional) If trauma or negative memories are what is really getting you, it may help to sleep with your head where your feet usually go, and visa-versa for a few nights.

6. (also optional) If you have a stuffed animal to watch over you, let the smoke drift over them too! Affirmations like “this stuffed animal keeps me safe, even in my dreams”, “I can trust (name) to keep me safe no matter what”, or “I feel safe with (name) around” are all great ideas.

Send me a message with how this spell worked for you, I’d love to hear about your experiences! Best of luck, all!

Simple renewal magick

Simple things can bring about cleansing or feelings of renewal. Witchcraft isn’t always about spells and fancy wordplay. These are things I do when I feel I need a change and want to remove some sort of negativity:

-change your hair part

-use your non-dominant hand for things like eating or brushing your teeth

-flip your mattress

-wear your clothes backwards for a day (silly, I know!)

-flip your pillow 13 times

-sleep on the opposite side of your bed

-tea face mask

-use an herb rub in the shower

-cut your hair

-cut your nails

Gemma Doesn’t Like You: Part 2

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio

A month after Y/n’s encounter with Gemma, she hasn’t been seen again. She had cut ties with Harry and his family, meaning she started taking out loans and working every day just to pay off her schooling. Harry had absolutely no access to her. He never expected his last moments with Y/n to be in a three-hour car ride where silence consumed them whole as Y/n wouldn’t even look at him. The memory still haunts him, in his sleep and even when he’s awake, laying on their bed with a glass full of bourbon at 4 in the morning.

He’s changed since then, every bit of him broken and unfixable. He questions his reason for living. With finishing his career and his friends busy managing businesses and living their lives, the only thing keeping Harry going was now gone, had disappeared from his life and showed no sign of return. He saw a future with Y/n, a new beginning to an end with her, and now that it’s over, he feels his reason to live and his future has turned non-existent.

Gemma hasn’t heard from Harry ever since that night, either. She had tried numerous times to explain herself but he simply ignored her, blaming her for ruining his life. She didn’t know exactly what to think, she believed what she did was to protect him, but she started to doubt herself whenever Anne told her he’s been locked up in his house with excessive amounts of alcohol and drinking his pain away. She had hoped a part of him would have learned that she was right and moved onto a different woman, but she knew that was highly unlikely. She was just frustrated, not only with Harry, but with herself as well.

“You and Harry need to talk about things.” Anne demands through the phone.

Gemma rolls her eyes, letting out a slight groan.

“Mum, if he wants to put all the blame on me, he can have fun doing that. However, there isn’t a thing I’ve done wrong and I’m not just going to sit here and-“

“I have never seen your brother more miserable in my life.” Anne whispers, a slight quiver in her voice as she speaks. “He’s not doing well, mentally, at least.”

Anne lets out an almost inaudible sigh, “Gemma, I don’t care what your intentions were, but the outcome of what you did is killing him.”

Gemma takes in a shaky breath, leaning her elbow on the kitchen counter, placing the palm of her hand on her forehead.

"I’m not calling you a bad guy, but please, my Gem, fix this.”

“But mum, I-“

“They drove three hours to see you just for you to deliberately embarrass her in front of her boyfriend.”

Anne’s tone suddenly became rough, not tolerating the fight Gemma has been constantly putting up whenever they discussed the situation.

"I understand you were trying to protect your brother but that is not how you go about it. Now, I will not tell you again, you speak to Harry about this before you lose your brother forever.”

The line goes dead against Gemma’s ear. She sighs, locking her phone before pressing her forehead against the kitchen counter. She knows she has to talk to Harry about this, but a part of her still feels like she can’t allow Harry to stay with Y/n. It’s as if her big sister instincts kicked in. She doesn’t want to see him hurt because of Y/n, but she questions whether she’s the one doing it instead.

“Fine, fine!” Gemma groans to herself, picking up her car keys from the counter, “Guess I’ll have to fix this.”

Harry decides that it’s a good night to go out. A new bar has opened up a couple blocks from his home, and he feels it’s time for him to at least grief outside of his bedroom. Of course he was drunk prior to his arrival, and he went alone, but that didn’t change the fact that this is the most improvement he’s shown since Y/n left.

“Jus’ some vodka, please.” He slurs, struggling to get onto the bar stool properly.

The bartender pours him his drink, which Harry takes a big swig of. He has never been one to rely on alcohol for his problems. He’s always just learned to get over them and to never look back on the situation. But this? This is different. Alcohol is his only way of becoming numb, an attempt to escape his horrifying reality.

If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that alcohol actually makes it worse. It numbs him, but the second Y/n enters his mind, there’s no way of getting her out. At least when sober, he can cook, listen to music, read, or write to distract himself from the thoughts of her. But once alcohol is in his system, Y/n is barricaded inside, trapped in his conscious. And in some sick, twisted way, Harry loves it.

Harry lifts his drink up to his lips, looking around the bar for, hopefully, a friend he hasn’t spoken to in a while. He almost gives up on his attempts of finding company when, suddenly, he sees a mysterious woman across the bar. Maybe it’s the intoxication playing tricks on his brain, but she just looks so much like her. He can’t stop staring at her, so much of her reminds him of Y/n. The way her hair flows naturally to her breasts, and how she moves her body almost perfectly like Y/n does. He could swear she’s even holding the same drink Y/n would be, and her lips are colored with a color that reminds him so much of Y/n’s favorite lipstick shade. There is no way it is her, this isn’t her scene, but it’s almost like this woman was inspired by Y/n’s natural, charming looks.

After seeing her, everything became a blur. He remembers approaching her, but doesn’t remember any conversation they might have had. All he can remember afterward was letting her kiss him and asking if her if she wanted to leave with him. And now, he’s making out with her on his bed. His hands roaming her body, tongue battling dominance against hers. He aggressively holds her hips down, squeezing the tips of his fingers into her hips. She moans into his kiss, biting his bottom lip as her hands slide underneath his shirt. She lifts his shirt off his body, Harry panting heavy breaths before going back down to kiss her more. His lips travel to her neck, nibbling on her skin, sucking on her jawline.

His hands travel to her legs, hitching them up so they can hook around his waist. He pins her hands above her head, where she lets out a tiny giggle as he does so. His lips travel down to her chest, chin pulling down the neck of her shirt the lower he goes. His hips move against hers, the friction hot against his skin. He bites down on her shoulder, his hands gripping onto her shirt, ready to discard it from her body.

“Harry” she whispers, nails gently scraping down his back.

The voice that whispered his name makes him come in touch with reality. This isn’t right, this isn’t Y/n. How could he be touching another woman like this? She doesn’t even feel right. Her skin isn’t as soft as Y/n’s. Her hair isn’t as light at Y/n’s, either, and the way she moves against him isn’t as effortless and magnetic as Y/n’s. Her voice doesn’t make his heart race and her touch doesn’t set his skin on fire like Y/n’s always has.

Harry quickly places his hand onto her chest and pushes himself off of her.

No!” he growls.

The woman bounces on the bed, her face twisting with confusion when he begins to aggressively put his shirt back on. He’s already crying, his hands rubbing over his face as he keeps whispering “That’s not her. She’s not her.”

“What the fuck?” she squeals, propping herself up with her elbows and she stares at his back–his way of choosing to not face the situation.

“You need to get out.” Harry cries, his body like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode the second she leaves the room.

He grabs a glass from his nightstand, pouring bourbon from a bottle left there for nights he wasn’t able to sleep, an accessible reliant to help him become numb.

How could he do this? He never imagined himself being that intimate with another woman. Y/n was the only one he’s ever been comfortable with, exposing parts of him nobody else even knew existed. He may be famous, but he was never able to find women he felt stable with. To him, they were temporary, just to keep some sort of consistency in his hectic lifestyle. But he never felt love, never felt a connection with them, not until he met Y/n. She opened him up, discovered parts of him nobody else took time to discover. He never felt so alive the way he did with her, like his job and the entire world he knew meant absolutely nothing without her.

“What?” the woman asked again, sitting up at the foot of his bed.

“Please just get out!” Harry roars, his rage taking over as he throws his bourbon-filled glass across the room.

The woman flinches as pieces of broken glass fall onto the floor, quickly gathering her belongings before making her way out the bedroom door. As she was hurrying down the stairs, trying to fix herself, her body rams into another.

“What in the-?”

“S-so sorry” she stutters, “so sorry.”

Gemma turns her head around to watch the mysterious woman walk out the door. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, utterly lost as to what just happened.

“Harry?” She calls.

The only response she gets back is sounds of objects being thrown and Harry’s drunken slurs. Her eyes widen, quickly rushing up the last bit of stairs to reach where Harry is. When she reaches his bedroom, Harry is throwing the sheets off the mattress. The pillows had already been thrown across the room, the duvets pooled by his feet. He’s muttering to himself, quietly, strings of slurred curses harshly leaving his lips as he drowns in inhumane sobs. Gemma’s mouth hangs open as he aggressively flips the mattress off the springs of the bed, screaming as he does so. This is no Harry she’s ever seen. He’s almost animalistic, but in a more depressed sense, like his violence is derived from desperation and guilt.

“Harry!” Gemma yells, quickly approaching the mattress that has ended up on the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

Harry watches as she places the mattress back in it’s place, almost throwing up everything inside of him as he looks at it. It was a simple object, meant for comfort and rest. But it was so much more to him. Almost all his favorite memories with Y/n happened on that mattress. Hours of countless jokes, tickle fights, making love, and even stupid fucking fights that they later joked about happened on that mattress, between those sheets, upon those pillows. But now? He’s ruined it. He touched another woman on there, made another woman feel good on the mattress that was meant for him and Y/n.

“I was on there with some other woman” Harry breathes out, gulping once he finishes his sentence. “I don’t even know her name, Gem. I don’t know what I just did.”

She looks up at him. His face is crimson and covered in tears, his hair a complete mess, eyes red and wet, almost trying to hold back all the tears built in them. He’s shaking, almost like he’s lost control of his body.

“Harry, it’s okay. You guys- you guys aren’t together anymore. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Gemma says softly, picking at the sheets that lay on the floor.

She can’t lie, she suddenly feels like a villain when she sees him like this. He almost looks dead as he stares at the bed emotionless. Harry is the last person she’d expect to lose their temper. He was always the strong one in the family. When their parents first got divorced, Gemma had felt so broken. Anne wasn’t much better. They both broke down several times a night, holding onto each other for dear life, as if trying to keep their family together. Harry was the one who helped them through it. Although he felt as if his entire world was flipped upside down, he remained strong, for not only his family, but for himself. This had happened countless times throughout their lives. Whatever came at him, Harry was always able to take it strongly, never showing anybody, including himself, the pain that was inflicted on him.

“How could you say that?” Harry whispers, still refusing to look at Gemma. “I was on our bed with another woman. I did everything wrong.”

Not knowing how to respond, Gemma ignores his comment, blinking her tears away, quickly tearing her gaze from her broken brother to look at the shattered glass on the floor.

“Do you have any plastic bags for that?” She asks quietly, getting up from her spot to look by his nightstand.


Gemma opens up his closet, looking sadly at the half-filled rack of Harry’s clothes. They are pushed perfectly to one side, as if he felt like he couldn’t occupy Y/n’s. It doesn’t just look empty, but it feels empty, even to Gemma. It doesn’t even look right.

She shakes her head, rummaging through a bin on the floor. As she grabs a plastic bag from the bottom, a small, black velvet box falls onto the floor right by her feet. Gemma’s heart drops the second she sees it, almost afraid of what it actually is.

She hesitantly picks it up, opening it slowly. A sob rips through her, a diamond engagement ring set perfectly in its place. It shines against the dimmed lights in Harry’s bedroom, making Gemma’s heart break.

“What is this, Harry?” Gemma asks.

Harry doesn’t answer, unmoving in the same position, looking at his bed, silent cries and words of guilt leaving his mouth as Gemma speaks.

“Harry, what is this?” she asks, harsher this time, demanding for the answer she needs to hear from him.

He turns his head over, looking sadly at the box, his lips pressed harshly together. He closes his eyes, excess tears running down his cheeks, almost wishing he wasn’t reminded of it. He looks down, his hand traveling to the back of his neck.

“I was going to marry her” Harry whispers, “Wanted to marry her.”

Gemma inhales sharply, her face twisting with guilt as she looks at her brother like he’s a lost puppy. She feels her heart break for him. Not only did he not get the chance to marry Y/n, but it was her own fault that he couldn’t marry her. It was Y/n’s choice to break off things with Harry, and honestly, Gemma couldn’t be happier when she found out they weren’t together anymore. She wanted Harry to move on and find a woman who respected and loved him for who he was, not for his money. But as she looks at him now, alone and emotionally damaged, how could she be happy? He wanted marriage, a life and a family with Y/n, and she completely broke that. She had completely taken away his happiness and future.

“H-Harry, I-“

Her apology is interrupted by the doorbell, making her sigh before putting the ring back in the bin.

“I’ll get it. Just try to clean up, please.”

Harry gives her a small nod before Gemma makes her way down the steps, wiping her sweating hands on her jeans before making her way to the door. When she opens it, her breath is taken right out of her lungs. Y/n is standing there, fiddling with her fingers nervously.

She didn’t expect Gemma to answer, but it was exactly what she wanted. Since everything happened, Y/n felt guilty for not talking things out with Harry. Oh, how she missed him. How every part of her craved him everyday. How her skin craved his touch, how her ears craved his voice and lips craved his. No part of her was able to let him go. She attempted to many times to rid the pain that has inevitably taken over her, but nothing could help her. She was helpless, the pain had consumed her whole and made her into an emotionless woman, unable to feel anything besides pain.

She regretted everything. He was willing to throw everything away for them. He fought for their relationship so strongly, and she just left, not putting up a fight back. Y/n planned on talking to Gemma, however, she didn’t think it would happen so soon. She intended on working things out with Harry before making peace with her, but it seems as though she has to start where she wanted to end.

“Y/n.” Gemma breathes out, almost relieved.

Y/n’s shocked when she hears Gemma say her name. She normally says it with such disgust, like it was poison to her. But something about the way she said it now, and the way she looks at her as she does so, that genuinely makes her believe everything will be okay.

“G-Gemma, I just want to um, want to say that-“

“I know” Gemma interrupts, “I know what you’re gonna say, but you don’t have to say it. I treated you like utter scum, Y/n, and you never deserved that. I know you’re not having Harry pay for your schooling anymore, and that just makes me feel so bad. You work hard, Y/n, you really do. You work harder than anybody I’ve known, and I just jumped to conclusions.”

“Gemma, I-”

“Let me finish” Gemma states, “I was protective of my brother because all his past girlfriends were only with him for his money. I never did anything about it, you know? I just watched it all happen, and when I heard that he was dating someone low income, I just-I just felt like I had to do something. Which sounds so stupid because you love him so much. You cared so much about him and his family that you broke your own heart just so that he didn’t have to choose between you and his family. You have done so much for my brother, and I never saw that, and I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m so, so sorry.”

Y/n nods, a small smile on her face as she lets out a breath of relief.

“It’s okay” she smiles, “Honestly, I understand.”

Gemma smiles, looking down at the ground before opening the door wider.

“Harry’s um, Harry’s upstairs. You can go in. I’ll leave you two alone.”

Y/n smiles, muttering a small “thank you,” while hugging Gemma for the first time before making her way up the steps.

“Harry?” she calls when she reaches the bedroom door.

She sees him standing in the same place, stiff, tears continuously rolling down his cheeks. He isn’t how she remembered. There is no glow to him, no life left inside of him. There is no bit of the Harry she knew inside this man, instead, all she sees is a broken man, with his soul completely taken out of him.

His eyes look up at her, and he swears his knees almost give out on him the second he sees her in their bedroom.

“Y-Y/n?” He whispers.

“Hey” she says softly, slowly walking towards him, making sure to not step on any of the mess on the floor. “I wanted to talk.”

She moves to sit onto the bed, but Harry is quick to grab onto her arm before she can,

“Don’t-don’t sit there,” he pleas softly, shaking his head, “I just-I just had a woman on there, but we didn’t do anything besides kiss and I know that doesn’t make a difference, and I am so, so sorry, Y/n, but I was drunk and I was trying to help me recover from all of this but it wasn’t working, and I am so sorry but can’t see you sit there right now.”

Y/n lets a few tears fall at his confession, but she can’t blame him for it. It hurts her, it hurts her tremendously to know he was with another girl before she came here. But what else did she expect? When she was gone, she wanted him to move on and find somebody else. She was the one who broke things off, she wanted him to find someone worthy for his family’s acceptance. She just couldn’t blame him, no matter how much it hurt.

“It’s okay, Harry” she whispers, placing her hand softly against his cheek, “I understand, it’s okay.”

He lets out a shaky breath, nodding his head softly, one of his hands reaching up to hold hers.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us,” Y/n cries, “I just walked away and I never gave us a chance. You are the love of my life and I didn’t even fight for you. I did it because I love you, and I couldn’t be the one to stand in between your relationship with Gemma. She’s your sister, and no matter how much I love you, I can’t be selfish with you. I had to let you go so that you can have your family.”

“Oh, baby” Harry sobs, pulling her against his body.

His forehead presses against hers, his arms wrapped securely around her waist. They’re both crying, breaking down for the amount of time they’ve spent apart.

“I know, baby, I know. I just can’t live without you. You’re my everything, you know that? My money, my image, my life means nothing without you. I would give it all up for you.”

Y/n nods, sobbing at his words. She lifts his head from hers, her thumb wiping away his tears before pressing her lips to his. They kiss hungrily, starving from their lack of one another. Every bit of their bodies like magnets, drawn to each other the closer they get.

“Gotta ask you something, baby” Harry breathes out between kisses, detaching himself from her lips and resting his forehead against hers, his breathing harsh and spreading upon her face.

“Fuck, baby, lemme ask you something.”

Her eyes close softly as she nods, biting her lip as she tries to catch her breath between their feverish kissing and died down sobs.

Harry takes in a breath of preparation before kneeling down on one knee, both his hands taking hers in his and running his thumbs across her knuckles.

Y/n gasps, teary eyes staring wildly at his as she begins to process what’s happening. She knew they’d get married one day, however, she started doubting her greatest dreams once they broke up. 

But knowing it’s all coming back to life makes her heart race in her chest. This is what she’s been waiting for- everything she’s been wanting for since the moment she fell in love with Harry.

And it’s all happening in the time they both need it most.

“Oh, baby” she whispers, raking her hands through her hair. Her bottom lip begins to quiver while tears of excitement begin to fall down her cheeks. 

Harry grips her thighs in his hands as he stares lovingly in her eyes.

“Y/n, baby. The moment I met you, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re the love of my life, you know. You complete me and inspire me to be a better man every single day. And when you left me, I swore to myself that if you ever decided to come back to me, I’d do everything in my power to keep you by my side. So, baby, will you please marry me?”

Y/n’s hand covers her mouth as she attempts to suppress a sob, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Y- yes!” She almost screams, “God, Harry, yes!”

Harry’s face breaks into a smile he’s ever given, jumping from his kneeling position before bringing Y/n into his arms. They both laugh, share the sweetest of kisses, and cry together as they imagine what the future is holding for the both of them. 

White Rabbit - Twenty

Spencer spent another night on the pull out couch in Alice’s apartment, the pair having gone upstairs immediately after her and Ellen had seemingly made amends. Alice had walked straight into her kitchenette, pulling out a bottle of vodka and taking a hit directly from the bottle, before pouring some into a glass and adding coke. She offered the drink to Spencer and he shook his head.

“Could I just have the coke by itself?” he definitely shouldn’t be drinking whilst he was meant to be watching over her. She poured him a tall glass of coke, adding ice cubes before passing it to him. She took another long pull of her drink and set it down on the counter.

“Would you believe that I’d never been drunk before until I was 24 years old.”

“Really?” Reid was surprised, but then almost as soon as the words left his mouth he realised why she probably hadn’t been drunk.

“Yup. Alcohol was deemed unnecessary. We had wine at matching ceremonies and things but it was rationed out. When I came back, I didn’t dare take anything that would impair my senses or reactions at first. It was only last year when Ellen and Robert threw a dinner party for his work colleagues that I experienced the feeling of being inebriated. One of his associates kept refilling my glass and I passed out in the down stairs bathroom after vomiting in the sink. Ellen yelled at me for an hour the next day, like I was a kid.”

“I’ve never really drank much either. I was too young to get into bars when I was in college so I’ve never really had that whole experience.”

She downed the rest of her drink and then yawned, rubbing her eyes. “I’m going to shower and then turn in. Make yourself at home.”

She went into the bathroom and Spencer set about pulling out the couch again, straightening the covers and slipping his shoes, jacket and tie off. He was tired as well but he’d wait for her to get into her bed before he settled in. He placed his gun on the floor at the side of the pull out, wondering if he’d wake up to find it by her bed again.

When she came out, she was dressed in pajamas this time and she came and hovered by the couch.

“Spencer…..I just wanted to say thank you. For believing me.”

She turned away and walked between the bookcases to her sleeping area, flicking off the lamps that were on in there after she’d climbed in between the sheets. Reid got himself ready for bed and switched off the remaining lights before settling down. The pair were asleep almost instantly.

At around 3am Spencer woke up with a start, to see a shape standing by his mattress. He froze, trying to figure out if he could reach down for his gun undetected, but then he realised it wasn’t an intruder. It was Alice.

“Ally?” Spencer whispered softly, carefully pulling back his covers and setting his feet onto the floor; pulling himself into a seating position.

Alice didn’t move or respond. Spencer stood up and lowered his face to hers trying to see her eyes in the dark. They were wide and glassy and her breathing was heavy.

“Ally… ”


She was sleepwalking, she had to be. Spencer touched her shoulders gently, turning her around and lightly pushing her in the direction of her bed.

“Let’s get you back to bed, Alice.”

He walked behind her, his hand on her lower back until he reached her bed. And that’s when he smelt it.

Ammonia. He touched the bed sheets lightly, grimacing when he felt the damp patch roughly where her bottom would have lain. Wiping his hand on his own shirt, Spencer pondered his predicament.

As he straightened back up he noticed that she was only wearing a long t-shirt again. The pajama bottoms she’d been wearing to bed had been discarded onto the floor and as he bent over to feel them, he noticed they were damp too. Alright, so at least he didn’t have to worry about trying to wake her up to get her to change, she’d taken them off herself. He grabbed her pillows and led her back to the couch.

“Bedtime again Ally, time to get in.”

She climbed into the bed without question and curled up into a ball, her eyes closing as soon as her head hit the pillow. Carefully, Spencer placed her pillows at her back, creating a makeshift barrier between them before he climbed back in next to her. This had the potential to be extremely awkward the next morning but he’d worry about that then.

It didn’t take a genius to work things out. The majority of adult bed wetting happened when the person was either so hammered that they couldn’t control their bodily functions, or if that person was highly stressed out and anxious. Add that to the sleepwalking and it was obvious that the last few days were taking their toll on the girl. Sometimes her exterior would seem so calm and collected and other times she seemed to crack immediately, her yelling at her sister and running off being an example.

He needed her to be strong though.

They all did.

When Alice woke up the next day she was confused. She wasn’t in bed and she wasn’t wearing bottoms. Instead she was lying on the couch, a mountain of pillows between her and Dr Reid. It was still early but she felt like she’d slept for a year so she crawled out of the bed gingerly and padded across to her bed. She smelt it straight away, urine drying in the air.


She felt embarrassed and ashamed, her face colouring as she realised what had happened. When she’d first returned, she wet the bed often. She knew it was a sign of anxiety and stress and she eventually managed to get it under control but it had been a horrific few months of flipping her mattress on an almost daily basis and trying to hide her soiled sheets from her sister and Robert. Eventually they found out, the stench became too strong and Ellen investigated, finding the stained mattress. It was then that Alice was told she’d been sleepwalking as well, turning up in Robert and Ellen’s bed room in the middle of the night. She had no recollection of that at all. They bought her a new mattress and she went to a few therapy sessions, refusing to talk about what was causing the stress but accepting the help in learning the breathing techniques to try to manage it. She’d been dry for over three years now, the way she thought an adult should be. And now she’d wet herself with an FBI agent in the room. He knew, he had to. Otherwise she’d have been put back into her own bed.

She stripped the bed quietly, pulling on the now dry bottoms to complete the task. She’d shower and toss them in the wash once she was done. She filled a bowl with warm water and bleach, sponging the mattress down lightly and leaving the bed unmade, she’d have to remake it later, once the mattress was dry. She piled the sheets by her door and sloped off into the shower, coming out twenty minutes later and adding her pajamas to the pile. She dressed herself again, ready for the day and when she left her sleeping area fully clothed Alice could see that Spencer was awake.

He eyed her carefully, his gaze flicking to the bare bed and back.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“I’m okay. Erm. Listen, I’m kinda embar… ”

“Don’t be please,” Spencer cut her off. “It’s perfectly natural in times of high stress. Sometimes our bodies are overwhelmed and we can’t control them the way we could normally. You did give me quite a fright when I woke up and you were standing next to the couch though.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything, I don’t even remember dreaming.”

“That’s common too in sleep walking.”

“I know. I read about it when Ellen told me I was doing it. I don’t think I do it often, but then again I don’t remember.”

Spencer and Ally were silent for a moment, before Spencer climbed off the pull out and went to get himself ready for the day.

“Alice, we’ve listened to the recording from last night. No matter what happens, you will NOT be prosecuted for the murder of Katie, I want to make that much clear. But we still have a number of questions for you today. Starting with what happened after Katie died. Can you tell us?”

Alice, Reid and Rossi were back in the interview room. Ellen and Robert Manchester had accompanied them in again and were the other side of the mirror, listening with Agent Hotchner.

Alice nodded. “They made me… They made me cut her tattoo away. That’s how I knew they did that. Apparently they hadn’t always done that but Lewis said it was important, so that she couldn’t be traced back to the compound.”

Alice closed her eyes momentarily and when she opened them again Reid saw that they were full of tears. There was something else there too though, another emotion and when she spoke again, Reid recognised it as burning anger.

“They made me kneel next to the body of a girl I’d lived with for four years, and take a knife to her neck and slice off her skin. The person I thought loved me MADE do me that. And I did it. I know what type of person that makes them but what does it make me? I complied.”

Rossi beat Spencer to it, “It makes you someone that was doing whatever they could to survive.”

Alice just shook her head.

“What happened next, what did they do with them body?”

“I don’t know. Eric was told to take me back to the house after that. I could barely walk, I was shaking that much. Marnie had to wash me, put me in the tub and wash the blood off my hands, I couldn’t do it. I asked her though….. She said she didn’t know what they’d do with Katie because her family were here. All the others though, were taken and left. Lewis had this thing, he said that they couldn’t be buried near us because they were no longer our family, but he left them so that they could be reunited with their own. It never made any sense to me considering how hard he worked to keep the compound a secret, surely dumping bodies in the surrounding area was bound to draw attention to the National Park?”

Dr Reid and Agent Rossi shared a look. So that was why the bodies weren’t hidden. In some odd way, Lewis thought that he was the right thing by allowing the corpses to be found so that their families could claim them and bury them. And Alice was right, it had attracted attention to the National Park, just not enough attention for the FBI to launch a full on investigation previously.

“What happened after that Alice?”

“I ran. That’s the night I left.”

Carl’s Mistakes ~Smutty September~

Prompt:Can you do a smut where Carl grimes and the reader are friends with benefits please and one of them is super dominant?

Pairing: Carl x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning: Sub!Carl and Dom!Reader, oral, face riding, orgasm denil, a little role switching.

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“It shouldn’t be snowing so soon.” Harry is staring at the sky, the snow dropping on his face before he notices her staring at him. “Hm?” His hum is higher, out of confusion as to why she’s looking she presumes, and Y/N lifts her hand to his cheek.

“Your cheeks,” she murmurs, a grin broadening on her mouth, “Oh, your cheeks Harry!” She cries out, fingertips denting the cold skin, “I’ve never seen you blush before.”

“Blush?” Harry asks, hand lifting to cover hers, “I’m blushing?”


Harry is still very smitten with this human, and Y/N loves a bunny

(PART 1)

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Adult Film 101 (Part 8 of Faking It)

And the kinks continue. Enjoy.

Read Faking It, Just Breathe, Sex Hair and Blindfolds, Cold as Ice, Rough Around the Edges, Sticky Sweet, and Slow Burn.

Warning: SMUTTY SMUT, filming sex, watching said film

Word Count: 3000ish

A/N: Next part won’t be out until Wednesday. I need a minute to breathe, y’all :) <3

“Start filming,” you breathed, lying on the bed. Dean sat up between your legs to look down at you, both of you naked and ridiculously turned on.

Dean had woken you by kissing his way up your neck and sucking at your earlobe, softly rousing you from sleep into this comfortable, uninhibited state of arousal. You hadn’t had time to think or to process- you could only feel as you opened to Dean and let that mouth work its magic on you.

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I Don’t Love You

Summary: ‘We were building brick by brick and now it’s just a quicksand home.’ Lies ruin people. Especially the ones we tell ourself. Now you’re gone and he’s empty and all he had left is the memories. 

~Approx. 1.9k words~
~Warnings: Violence, angry thoughts, self-depricating thoughts~


This house doesn’t feel like a home anymore. Luke thought as he stepped inside the quaint abode. The lights were off, making the space seem even more foreign. The place looked bigger now with just one person living here and Luke wished he could make everything go back to how it was supposed to be before he had fucked it all up. Too many rooms. He thought. Too many rooms and too much space that would never be occupied by you ever again. He blew it and now he was left to assess to damage.

He shrugged off his coat, for once deciding to hang it in the closet instead of tossing it on the chair. He could almost hear your voice begging him to stop leaving his clothes all over the room and he smiled at the irony that the one time he picked up after himself you weren’t here to see it.

He wished he hadn’t opened the closet door though. Your yellow raincoat hung by itself, standing out against Luke’s many black articles of clothing. It was your favorite coat and you wore it every time it rained, insisting it went with the aesthetic of the weather. Luke had thought it was silly then, but he would kill to see you in your matching rain boots, dancing in the rain.

With a plop, he was sitting on the couch, staring at the opposite wall, drowning in his thoughts. He had countless memories of you on this sofa. Whether it be late night How I Met Your Mother reruns, or early morning sex that satisfied the craving you had for each other, or afternoon cuddles that made him the happiest man on the planet. Holding you close was his favorite pastime and quitting you gave him withdrawals. He could feel his body shaking, like he was being weaned off some drug he no longer had access to. He had lied and you were gone. It was his worst nightmare.

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair as if to shake away the memories of your perfection from his brain, walking into the kitchen just to pour himself a drink. Of course you had left your favorite mug here, as if to tease him, dangling what used to be in front of his face. It’s like you had done it one purpose, leaving traces of you in every room so that he had to choose whether to face them, face you, or rid himself of them and relive the pain of what is was to hurt you. He would leave them of course. Each item was adding members to the small flicker of hope that burned inside him, that one day the hurt he was feeling would spread to you and you would come back to him. But you wouldn’t, because you believed his lie.

He had probably put too much in the glass but tonight he was drinking to forget. Forget how much he had hurt you, forget how the reflection of your tear stained cheeks tore his heart out. Forget how he had told you the biggest lie he would ever tell, just because he thought he was saving you from the pain he had inflicted. It was his fault this house was empty, his fault his glass was full, his fault that the memories of you were all he had left in the world. He had considered trying to find a new girl to make the aching pain of sleeping alone fade just for one night, but the thought of anyone other than you laying in the spot next to him made him feel sick. You were the one. You were it for him and instead of a happy ending he had a broken record in his mind repeating the lies that he had spun so easily. It was a lie.

That whole night was a lie. He thought he was protecting you. Liar Liar. Protecting you from what? It all felt silly now. 

As the alcohol washed down his throat he could feel its effects cleansing him. But you could never be erased from his memory. You were in him too deep to be removed by a few bitter drops.

He remembered the whole night. It started with the lie he told himself. The distance is too much. Bullshit. He could handle the distance if it meant having you again, but back then the temptations of his lifestyle were too much. How dare he look at other girls when he had you? How dare he think about wanting them and feeling them when everything he ever wanted he had in his arms. How could he possibly believe that the parties would ever fill the void in him like you did. It was a lie. But he had believed it.

The second lie, was the one he heard from his friends. She’s holding you back man, just have a good time. She’ll never know. You can do better. Wrong. How could he do better once he’s had the best?  He should have proved them wrong. Should have told them right then and there that they didn’t know a thing about his love for you. Should’ve told them that you were perfection embodied and it was him that didn’t deserve you.

The third lie was the one that ruined his life. The lie that broke two hearts and tore apart two souls that were supposed to be together forever. The lie that still left a sour taste in his mouth. “I don’t love you.” You had been begging him before he said it, asking him why he was doing this and what you had done to deserve such a sudden breakup. You thought it was you. That’s the first lie you believed.

Your face was permanently etched in his brain. The horror, the anger, the despair.

“You don’t love me?” The echo of your words hurt more than his own. The second lie you believed. And how could you not? Before then you had every reason to trust him. But you weren’t broken yet. He had to break you if he wanted this to work.

“Did you ever love me?”

“No.” The third lie. The final nail in your coffin, the seal to your doom. It was like you couldn’t breathe, like all the oxygen was gone. He had sucked the life from you and he saw it written all over your face. You had stopped begging then. Stopped crying, stopped speaking, stopped breathing. You just turned and walked away. He had done it, he was free. But the pain of another is never inflicted easily and that was painted in your makeup stained cheeks that he would write songs about.

“I’m sorry.” True. “I don’t want to hurt you.” True. But the lies had cut too deep for the truth to make any sense now.

“I never want to see you again.” True. You had never told him a single lie.

Luke felt like his chest was on fire. He was six drinks in and you still occupied his every waking thought. Everything in the house was you. You were in the blankets on the chair and the sheets on the bed, your portrait the dishes in the sink and the songs on the radio. You were engraved in the very foundation that made up this place and he didn’t want to see any of it another second. You were infectious and he needed to heal. Heal from the wounds he had inflicted on himself when he lied to you.

His eyes were crazy, his feet two steps ahead of his mind as he flipped over the coffee table that sat in the middle of the room. You would always tell him to quit putting his feet on it and he would never listen. It reminded him of you, so it had to go. Next he projected his rage onto the sofa. The beloved sofa where he would spend hours holding you and kissing you, your body molding into his like two jigsaw pieces. With a yell of anguish, he tore the cushions from the frame, ripping the cloth and throwing them in all different directions until it was just as ruined as he was. He watched in his rage as the projectiles knocked over lamps and vases that used to be filled with flowers he would bring home for you.

He knocked over chairs and turned over tables, smashed dishes and threw knick knacks you had left here. Anything that reminded you of him had to go. He was blind with anger. Anger in himself for ruining the one piece of perfection he had in his life. Angry at you for believing his lies, angry that you had left pieces of you here for him to see and relive and angry that all his memories of you were still intact when all he wanted was to forget or turn back the clock. But the universe wasn’t going to give him either. He didn’t deserve it.

He moved the the bedroom, ripping off the sheets that still smelled like you, the faint traces of your perfume almost gone but still detectable to an expert like him. He flipped the mattress where it crashed into the nightstand, the pictures he had there falling to the floor.

As he surveyed the mess, the wreckage that he had caused yet again, Luke sunk to the floor with a sob. He had never been this angry, especially not when he had you to calm him down. Your touch instantly soothed him, your kiss like a healing remedy. With a heavy heart, he reached over to where one of the ruined picture frames lay. The glass was broken, but the picture inside hadn’t been damaged.

It was a simple picture. You were smiling into the camera, clad in a pink party dress. Luke stood next to you, one arm wrapped around securely around your waist. He remembered this time as clear as day. It had been your best friend’s birthday party, the theme something about matching couples, and you had insisted Luke wear a pink tie to match your dress. He obliged of course, just to make you happy. You had wanted a picture, pulling someone out of the crowd and handing them your phone to snap the shot. They had told him to smile at the camera but he couldn’t take his eyes off you for even a moment. That’s the way the picture had turned out, you looking forward and him looking at you. It was his favorite picture of the two of you.

Luke could feel the tears beginning to well in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he held the precious picture in his hands. A few drops landed on the photograph but he quickly wiped them away. This was one thing he didn’t want to damage. He had caused enough destruction already.

He wished he could tell you he loved you again, but you would never believe him. He had told too many lies for you to believe him now. He wished he could see the look on your face as the three little words came out of his mouth. He loved how they brightened up your face, loved how you would whisper it back to him, sealed with a kiss.

I love you. True. But it was too late to tell the truth now.



anonymous asked:

here's a random prompt for you: Katniss trying on wedding dresses and it all goes completely wrong, so she goes home to peeta and they cuddle. She won't tell him whats wrong but he finds a way to get it out of her anyway ;)

THIS IS SO CUTE. OH MY GOSAKDFJLAKEJ. I totally hope this lives up to the prompt!

Rating: M (ish) for some very minor smut buried in a mountain of fluff.

By the time Effie’s rammed me into the seventh dress, I can’t decide if I’m more likely to head-butt the woman in the nose or inflict severe water damage on the room from a waterfall of tears. Entirely oblivious to my quickly deteriorating mood, she zips up the back and gently nudges me in front of the three-paneled mirror, finally releasing the last bit of air from my deflated ego.

The three girls that each of the panes feature are absolute monsters. Their braids are a mess, eyes red-ringed, almost every inch of visible skin slashed with puckered, pink flesh. This is why I avoid mirrors. Not even one of Effie’s pre-approved wedding dresses can make me look human.

This particular gown paints me as an abused marshmallow, the tented tulle pooling around my legs and the satin neckline only accentuating my patchwork of scars. And even though it’s been two years since the war, my edges and angles are still sharp instead of curvy, and each garment has hit me in all the wrong places. After all that boy’s been through, Peeta deserves a beautiful bride. Not an unsmiling girl who looks like she’s been through a blender. Twice.

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just one thing

Request: Hey love can you do an imagine where reader is dating Klaus and she’s pregnant and she’s very snappy and sarcastic thanks love.💕

klaus mikealson x reader

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Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: blood

Words: 1086

A/N: This request is brutal!… I LOVE IT (request #6)

“I still can’t believe you’re marrying a human,” Maze said, her voice filled with disgust as Lucifer stood in front of a mirror, fixing his jacket. “I mean, it’s not that you’re just having sex with her, Lucifer, you’re marrying her. You’re putting a ring on your finger you’ll never be able to take off. You won’t be able to look at any other women but her and-”

“Am I hearing a tint of jealousy in your words, Maze?” Lucifer interrupted, looking at her through the mirror. “I find her fascinating.” He grinned widely as he spun around to look at her. “Took me forever for her to fall in love with me and I loved it.”

Maze crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you loved this mortal ever since we arrived?” she asked.

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Royally Fucked (14/14)

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Swearing, sexual indication, okay guys things are going to get worse, hang on tight. It’s not going to get a happy ending.
(Wrap it before you tap it kiddos)

Summary: When you and Steve agree to end your relationship you didn’t expect to take it so hard, or seek comfort in his best friend. After one night of drinking and mistakes, now you feel like you’re struggling to keep your lies straight, but what happens when you’re seeing plus signs and Steve’s hovering, someone’s going to end up hurt if you can’t keep your lies straight.

A/N: Angsty, drama, secrets, and twists. Shit is going to hit the fan…

We have come to the end my loves. I know it’s been a stressful ride, so I promise my next series will be fluffy and cute. haha.

@rileyloves5 @sebbaevans @marvelousmarveltrash @callie-swagg1 @buckyappreciationsociety @teamcaptianbucky @shamvictoria11 @alphasoldier@chipilerendi @pietrosputa @voguettey @pandahipsterninja @goodnightwife   @agentsinstorybrooke  @seb-smut  @jonsnowisnotdeadthough @mrhowardstark  @chrisevansthedoritobastard  @holahellohialoha  @almightyunnie @iwillbeinmynest  @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @irepeldirt  @yourtropegirl  @bellejeunefillesansmerci   @buckyb-avengers @imamotherfuckingstar-lord  @girl-next-door-writes  @lexbugz  @ria132love  @diana-jaffa   @seargantbcky  @chipilerendi  

Originally posted by misunderstood-adventures

“I can’t sit here and wait.” Nat paces. “Someone should clean her room for her to go back too.” Nat nods.

“We’re probably going to have to order a new mattress.” Buck’s face is grim, Nat looks at Tony who pulls his phone out.

“Oh god the whole bed set she just got.” Nat shakes her head.

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anonymous asked:

um hi... can we get how the rfa would be if MC was a broke college student? like they had to be rlly careful with money and all that stuff~ Thanks!!!

Of course! It’d be a pleasure! ((thanks for the first request!))


  • He understands
  • His parents may help him with university but oh boy does he know how harsh it is to be on a budget
  • Invites MC out to dinner on cheap places when he knows MC is low on food
  • looks up college hacks on the internet to help MC
  • he wants to help you economically but can’t because he has no spare money
  • is always ready to invite MC over so they can eat something other than ramen because he knows that’s what they’ve been eating for the past month


  • broke??? what
  • he didn’t really get how a person could be so out of money they’d have to buy ramen noodles in bulk and make them in a coffee maker
  • until he met MC
  • he was appalled when he saw how harsh money was for them
  • invited MC right away to live in his house but MC had to refuse (because it was too far away)
  • so he decided he’d invite MC over whenever he could because goddamn they are not living happy
  • gives MC little gifts they wouldn’t afford by themselves
  • will give MC some money in every celebration as a gift. he will not take a “no” for an answer you either take the money or jumin will shove it to you
  • refuses to aknowledge the fact he’s always worrying over MC and thinking if they ate a decent meal that wasn’t cooked in a microwave everyday


  • she knows how it feels not to eat a home-cooked meal in days so she puts home-cooked food on a large tupperware container for MC to take home
  • MC is super thankful because they know the amount of free time Jaehee gets and the fact she’s using it to make food is too noble
  • she is the one telling MC to go study and take care of their grades
  • she and MC exchange pics of their respective lunch to see which one looks better (which is usually Jaehee’s because the university cafeteria is terrible)
  • reminds MC to stay hydrated, says “water is free from the university’s drinking fountains” whenever MC considers buying soda
  • invites MC out for coffee when they have free time


  • oh boy
  • he doesn’t like the fact MC is living in a crappy co-ed dormitory
  • MC showed him a picture of their room and he saw a spring popping out the side of the mattress and freaked out, proceeded to give instructions to flip the mattress over
  • feels sad he can’t go over and help MC clean up their dorm
  • sends MC selfies because “you need pretty things in your life”
  • actually sent MC a poster of himself to hang on the wall and was thrilled when MC did
  • always yelling at Jumin in the chat to help MC, which makes MC flustered
  • when they’re able to meet up, Zen hugs them for the longest time and makes sure they’ve been alright
  • will comment at least once per week about how MC should move with him instead


  • he knows he has been living off Dr. Pepper and Honey Buddha Chips but will not let MC go to sleep without making sure they ate at least a PB&J
  • can and will call MC at 1:00 am to tell them to go to sleep
  • offered to teach MC some coding to try and give them a hobby
  • once actually sent a bag of chips in the mail for MC
  • constantly sending messages to MC but tries to control himself because he wants MC to be able to concentrate
  • once MC invited him over and he actually got to see the dorm and was amazed at MC’s abilities to make such a wide range of foods in a microwave, pan and coffee maker
  • sends encouraging memes to MC on the mail 

Rage and Vampires

Dean was too late. By the time he got to the vampire nest, you were already a vampire. After he slaughtered countless of the bloodsuckers, he encountered you. You, however, are the one he cannot kill.

  • Dean Winchester x Reader
  • 1037ish Words
  • Warnings: angry Dean, duh.

Dean washed his hands in the sink. His lips were pursed and the tiny little vein was popping out of his forehead. Water splashed his face, causing him to lash out and punch the mirror that was in front of him, breaking it into a hundred little pieces, his knuckles bleeding now.

He was glad he could no longer see his reflection. It was a huge disappointment to him, to everybody. In his mind, there was no worse punishment than to stare at himself all day, having to see what you saw last night.

Dean turns around and slams his body strength into the phone that hung on the wall, ripping it from the cheap motel wall and the cording, the phone landing on the floor with a loud thump, like it was nothing at all.

The room was full of his hatred for himself, even he could feel it. Anger leaked out of him, pouring into the room for an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. The air was too thick for Dean, but outside was no better. Outside meant running into people, and he didn’t trust himself around others.

Dean sat on the motel bed that squeaked. The small sound was enough to make him crazy again, shooting more rage into his body—he stood up and flipped the mattress over, throwing the sheets and the pillows everywhere.

He was panting, trying not to howl, trying to control the shaking. Nothing worked. He began to pace back and forth, careful to avoid the mess of sheets on the floor. This wasn’t helping either, not getting rid of the fact that he just lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.

The motel door opened and Sam popped his head in, almost as if he was scared to see the damage. He had known leaving Dean all alone was bad news, though he didn’t expect to come back and see the room in ruins.

“Get the fuck out.” Dean growled. There was a certain darkness to his voice when he was mad, a different sort of person seemed to surface. “Now.” The low, warning in his voice should have been enough to make Sam leave, but he didn’t.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Sam tried, stepping into the room and letting the door close behind him. He was sure the police had already been called by the look of the torn mattress.

Dean’s eyes were bloodshot, red around the lids. His heart beat was increasing with every moment, threatening to burst out of his chest. He tried to speak again but his mouth was already so dry, it was hard to move his tongue. Dean didn’t want to hurt Sam, but it didn’t look like Sam anymore.

“Dean, please.” Sam held his hands up, trying to calm his big brother, his hero. Sam had looked up to Dean for so long, had received help from him many times before, and now it was his turn to help Dean, whether Dean wanted it or not.

“She’s a goddamn monster because of me!” Dean cried out, though his words were a little jumbled together. “I wasn’t there in time!”

Tears started forming around his eyes as he walked over and punched a decent sized hole in the wall, making Sam jump back and place his hand on the doorknob. He thought about running, but that would mean giving him.

Sam let his chin drop and he rubbed the back of his neck. If only Dean had made it to you ten seconds earlier, you wouldn’t be running around with blood dripping from your lips, fangs hanging in front of your teeth. But Sam knew there was nothing at all that could have been done. Clearly this was your choice, no one forced you into it. You were stronger than that, Dean just didn’t see it.

There was a small knock at the door and Sam knew it had to be the police or the owner. His heart sank in his chest. Not only would they have to forfeit their deposit, but they were about to be kicked out for good.

Dean was busy ripping pages from the phone book and throwing the pictures from the walls onto the floor, shattering the glass everywhere. His jaw was clenching tight, surely breaking every single one of his pearly white teeth.

Since Dean was too busy, Sam hurried to open the door. When he pulled it open, however, he wanted to slam it closed. You were standing there, drenched in rain and blood, a cheeky smile plastered on your lips.

“Hi, Sammy.”

Dean stopped and looked up from the phonebook. His eyes were wide, full of terror and rage. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug you or chop your pretty little head off, call it a night.

“Hi, Dean-o.” You waved and waltzed right on into the room, allowing Sam to close the door behind you. You parted your lips and ran your tongue over your teeth, exposing a few sharp fangs that you were so proud of. “Miss me?”

“What…” Dean tried to say something else, but with all the emotions flowing through him, he was practically speechless.

You smirked and gave him a two-fingered wave. “Sorry, doll. Did I startle you? I just thought I should thank you for what you’ve done to me. This is the best thing anyone could have done.” You outstretched your arms, making the blood stains on your dress more noticeable.

“Y/N…” Dean breathed.

“Awe, is the big monkey speechless?” You teased him.

All the love Dean had for you, it seemed to separate the two of you. He couldn’t touch you and you couldn’t touch him, regardless how you felt. You knew he wouldn’t pick up that knife even if he truly wanted to, it was the love.

That was exactly why you came here. Dean was furious, he could protect you. Right now, you needed the protection, but Dean couldn’t know that. He was too much in his own little world to figure out what you were up to. You had a huge plan for him, and he was going to go right along with it because he loved you.

Losing Your Engagement Ring: Tom x POC

So this is basically me, because I lose EVERYTHING ,my id, my money, my schoolwork, my mind…

You shuffled and dug through your pile of dirty laundry as the panic got worse. You ran to your bedroom and practically flipped the mattress over, even looking on Tom’s side. 

You were in your shared NYC apartment with Tom that over looked Times Square. You breathed and went over the whole apartment again, you lost the beautiful engagement ring from Tom and you felt terrible. 

 After another hour of carefully searching the apartment you sat on the couch and felt the heat of your tears hitting your cheeks. That ring was expensive as hell and not only that it meant so much to you. You heard the twisting of the lock and you sprinted to the bedroom. 

“Babe, I’m home!” You heard Tom yell. “Oh, great! I’m just changing.” You threw on Tom’s Flight Club hoodie and shoved your ring less hand in the pocket. You wiped the tears from your face and walked out to give him a kiss. 

“Have you been crying?” Tom asked suspiciously. “No, why would I be crying.” You kissed him and took the grocery bag from his hand. “I got it.” He said walking to the kitchen. 

“Well, I’m going to go take quick shower. That workout was intense.” He walked passed you and kissed your cheek. 

Tom let the steaming water fall down his body. He washed himself quickly because he so desperately wanted to spend time with you. While washing something on the soap holder caught his eye. He picked up and saw that it was your ring. He put two and two together and realized you probably lost it and that’s why you were crying. 

After getting out of the shower, he got dressed and walked into the living room were you were pacing back and forth in front of the huge window. 

“Hey love.” He said breaking you out of your trance. “Hey.” You smiled weakly, stuffing your left hand back in your pocket. He pulled you in for a hug and issued your neck. “Oh, I saw this thing about ring cleaning. And wanted to know if it would work with yours.”

He reached for your hand and you panicked. “i lost the ring!” You yelled. Tom tried to hold in his laugh and turned on his acting skills. “You what?” He yelled back. 

“I’m sorry. I’m such a terrible person!” You cried. As funny as it was, he hated seeing you cry. “How the hell did you lose it?” He continued. “I don’t know, I took a shower and took a walk and- I don’t know.” You threw yourself on the couch. “Well we need to find it.” He said. 

For the next hour Tom had you on a wild goose chase for the ring that was in his right pocket of his sweat pants. 

After giving up in defeat you sat on the edge of the bed covering your face. “I’m such a terrible person! I don’t deserve a ring.” You cried. 

“You mean this ring.”

You looked up and saw him holding the ring up. You gasped, “My PRECIOUS!” (Lord of the Ring Reference).

He laughed and snatched the ring from your reach, “You left this in the shower.”

You sighed and held his hand, “I’m sorry!”

“it’s okay, but please be careful. I need you wearing this to let these creepy guys know that you are taken.” He smiled sliding the ring back on your finger and kissing it. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” You said grabbing his face. He smiled and kissed you on the lips. “I love you!” He said, leading you to the kitchen. “Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

Here are my other stories:

Boyfriend Photographer

Take All Of Me: Tom x POC

Jealous: Tom x POC Actress

Helping Harry: Tom x POC

Tom Holland x Walking Dead Actress: POC Actress

Buzzfeed Challenge

Tom Proposes

I Miss You

Tom Does Your Makeup Challenge

Tom Being in Love w/ your Hair

Waking Up To A Shirtless Tom Playing BBall

Cuddling w/ Tom

Tom Cheats :(

Inside Jokes Part 1 & 2

Dean X Reader- The whole works.

Imagine: Finding Dean in a trashed room


“Dean?!” You asked loudly pounding on the motel room door his phone tracker lead you to.

You slowly reached for the handle, as if slowly reaching for it would help you open the door that was possibly locked.

Before your hand made it to the handle, the door swung open.

A beat up looking Winchester stood before you, his eyes widen for a split second but just as quickly became dark, and broken as before.

“(Y/n).” He sighed running his hand down his face.

“Dean.” You said quietly, shocked at the mess that stood behind him.

You pushed past him into the room, a smashed tv, flipped mattress, the whole works.

“Why are you here?” He asked defeated. Closing the motel door.

“You took off, we were all so worried and the bartender said…” You trailed off.

“That I beat the shit out of some guy?” He chuckled sarcastically.

“Dean…” You laid your hand on his cheek.

And that seemed to be his breaking point, the Winchester broke out into tears and he pulled you into a tight hug.