oh god the feels they burn

((thank you to guest writer @actualbird !!!))

See the thing about Evangeline is that it’s pretty much as old as Jeremy and Michael’s entire friendship. Probably older, actually. Evangeline, of course, being the minifridge in their dorm that houses the Jeremy’s fantastic stock of Mountain Dew Red.

Keep reading

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

Keep reading

pretty boy ☾ peter parker

summary : you think peter is very pretty, and your duty as his girlfriend is to tell him every chance you get.

wc : 1.4k 

  Peter Parker has freckles. They’re countless in amount and infinitesimal in size, but they’re spread across his sloped nose, his cheeks, and some of them are scattered across his shoulders from the days he spends at Rockaway Beach in the summertime sun not because he likes the beach, but because you do and you drag him there almost every day throughout July. He doesn’t mind. He can’t have you taking the train there alone, and he’d rather spend time with you in the sweltering heat than leave you by yourself. If you’re sitting close enough, the way you are right in this moment, you can count each one of those stars on his cheeks and play connect the dots with a ballpoint pen, if he’d let you. He most likely would. Peter would let you get away with anything. If you were to try to kiss each individual freckle that was settled there on his skin you’d be pressing your lips to his cheeks for hours on end. He’d like to see you try such a thing. 

   Peter Parker also has the sweetest brown eyes you’ve ever had the pleasure of gazing into. They were warm and kind and they felt like home whenever he turned them on you in that loving way he held. You love the way he looks at you, often and bright with happiness. You haven’t stopped looking at him since you started all those months ago, you couldn’t anticipate a time when you would. He doesn’t mind the permanent way his eyes settle on you, but it’s the way you’re always looking at him that makes him blush and turn his face away. He’s not much to look at, in his opinion. 

    He whines a little when he catches your eye again, trained on him like a reflex once again. His face glows a red the color of a ripe strawberry as he spins around in his chair and stares at the peeling cover of his science notebook. “What’s wrong, pretty boy?” You grinned when he flushed a deeper shade of crimson, still evading the smile that crept across your face. 

   “Y/N,” he whines once more, the heat creeping up toward the tips of his ears. He turns toward you, holding his cheek in his hand and keeping his elbow propped up on the swivel chair. “You know I get all,” he squirmed around in his chair, “flustered when you call me that.” The admittance came with a great reluctancy on his part, but it only made you smile more as you walked across the room and cleared away the clutter of his desk, taking a seat there so you could continue your study in Peter Parker. “I’m not pretty.” 

    “Shhh,” you chastised, using your foot to spin him back around. “You’re very pretty, Peter.” He stretches out his hand, waiting for you to grab it and hold it as careful as always. He presses a kiss to your knuckles whenever you hold his hand, he knows you think it’s the sweetest thing ever and that every single time he does it, you swoon like it’s your first date all over again. He’s big on holding hands. It’s intimate without being too much, and the teachers can’t really scold him for holding your hand the way they can for kissing you against the lockers when you both think no one is around. Still, he kisses your hand, and you close your eyes, smiling shyly. Then, you say, “How’d I get the sweetest, prettiest boy in the universe to be mine?” 

   “Oh, god,” he takes his hand out of yours and covers his cheeks with them, feeling the warmth of his skin against his palms and squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t believe what you’ve made him. A blushing mess undone the moment you call him pretty, sweet, yours. “Feel my cheek,” he demanded, grabbing your wrist and pressing your palm to his face. You laugh. 

   “You’re burning up, babe,” you say, patting his cheek. “I can’t help it. I have to compliment you. All the time. Every hour of every day.” You tap a finger against his cute nose. 

   “I would compliment you but every time I try you swoop in and render my speech incoherent with that little nickname you have for me,” he kept his fist against his cheek as he stared up at you, your legs dangling off his desk as you extend your hands out for him. He takes them, presses them to his cheek. 

   “What nickname?” You question innocently. “Oh, oh, oh, I know which one. Pretty boy.” You held his scrunched up in embarrassment face in your hands, squishing his cheeks. “So pretty.” 

    “I’m gonna spontaneously combust.” The words came out muffled because of the position his face was in, but if he were being honest, he could feel himself light up every time you said he was pretty, as amusing as the word was to him. Even if he doesn’t think he’s much- anything, really- to be fond of, he’s happy, so happy, that you disagree. 

   You call him pretty boy every chance you get. You seize the opportunity with pride, throwing a wink his direction when you can because he has the dopiest little smile on his face for the rest of the day even if he feigns irritation in the moment. 

     You greet him every morning outside his apartment building with a cup of coffee in your outstretched hand and a sweet smile curling at your lips and a, “Morning, my pretty boy,” and Peter starts his school day with a blush, his arm around the shoulders of the girl that he loves. You lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth. He’s invincible. 

    Then, you see him in chemistry class, goggles strapped to your face and a stupid apron around your neck. His heart still stops when he sees you. You slide in the seat between him and Ned, pulling at his goggle strap before it snaps back to his head as gentle as you can manage. “Did you finish the lab conclusion, pretty boy? I’m stuck on the last sent- Ned what happened to him?” You turned to the other boy, eyebrows raised in confusion because Peter is motionless and the redness is spreading all over his neck. 

   “You called him pretty again,” Ned replied, stretching his hand across the table and waving it in front of Peter’s face. “He’s probably just offended that you didn’t greet me with a compliment.” 

   “C’mon, Ned, you know I think you’re gorgeous.” 

   “I’m actually not deaf, guys.” Peter nudged you playfully, rubbing his cheeks with the sleeves of his gray sweater. You ruffle his honey hair. 

  “We know,” you answered. “Ned’s stunning, obviously-” Ned grins at this- “but you’re forever the only pretty boy for me.” Peter scrunches his nose up. Then, he takes off his goggles, placing them next to the looseleaf paper that has his neatly compiled lab report scrawled over the page. He leans forward, scooting his chair close to you so he can remove your goggles, too. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you quick. He’d put more passion into it if the teacher wasn’t standing across the room, looking for any excuse to separate the two of you. Every teacher was the same. He pulls back after a second, his hands lingering on your cheeks when he gazes at you. 

   “I love you, you beautiful and lovely and wonderful girl of mine.” Triumphantly, he removes his hands and places them back down on the desk. He catches it before you turn away toward Ned, and for a brief and fleeting moment, it’s there on your cheeks. “Oh, oh, what’s that I see? Is that a blush?” He jumps around to Ned’s spot, a stupid, prideful grin on his face as he savors the moment for himself, commits the pretty sight to memory. “Pretty girl, are you blushing?” He pressed his hands to against your face, pinching your cheek gently, lovingly. You punched him in the arm, a warning behind your eyes, but Peter didn’t care in the slightest. 

   “Yes, you big idiot,” you mumbled. “Happy now?” 

   “Oh, I’m very happy.” 

   “I hate you.” 

   “Do you really?” Peter raised his eyebrows, resting his palms against your shoulders and rubbing his thumb along the place where your collarbone peeked out of your shirt. 

   “Of course not,” you said, a grumble in your tone. “I love you and your pretty boy face, sweet little freckles and all.” You poked a couple of his freckles and kissed the one by his mouth. Peter sighed, still smiling brightly because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pretend to be annoyed at you when you called him that name. He’d wear it with like a badge of honor, grateful for it. He had an effortlessly gorgeous love that thought he was the prettiest thing she had ever laid her eyes on, so what more could he ask for? 

Lonely Heart

Where you’re his ex-girlfriend and you see his new girlfriend wearing your t-shirt

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist linked in bio


If she closes her eyes hard enough, and just at the right moments, Y/n can feel Harry in Dan.

It’s quite peculiar, how she finds Harry in almost anything. It’s something she finds so riveting yet so dangerous at the same time. He’s everywhere, he’s in every breath she takes and in every move she makes, and it’s something that brings her an overwhelming sense of comfort yet an overbearing sense of instability.

Dan—an individual full of insecurities and excitement—who varies oh, so differently from Harry, can feel like him if she really tries hard enough. His arms don’t hold her quite the same, and his lips aren’t as soft and flavorful, but if she squeezes her eyes shut, and she loses herself in the memories of Harry, it’s like he’s almost back again—only in the most minuscule of ways.

Which is why, now, in this moment in time, Y/n can barely keep her eyes open.

It’s the first time Y/n brought Dan to the house, letting him stop by to watch a film after his shift. It’s a little something he’s wanted to do for a while, and after many coffee dates and many pleas from Dan, she finally took the step of being completely alone with him.

Gabby decided to go to a friends house and insisted they take their time together. It started off wonderfully; a bottle of red wine, a box of chocolates, and a bag of popcorn while they watched Jaws.

It was all wonderful until Dan decided to make the move.

Dan is on top of her, lips connecting to hers in a lustful motion. It isn’t that Y/n doesn’t want to be in this position, but more of her being hesitant to do so. She hasn’t kissed anybody since Harry, and although Dan is one of the nicest people she’s ever met, she can’t find it within herself to keep moving any more forward.

And everything about it feels wrong.

Between all the touching, all the kissing, all the feelings within her, she can’t stop thinking about Harry. She can’t stop thinking about how much she misses him and how much she wants him back. She’s still in love with him, so much so that doing this with someone else makes her feel dirty—makes her feel like she’s betraying him.

And it’s all too much, because no matter how hard she closes her eyes, no matter how hard she tries to feel him, he’s not there, and she can’t help but seem to think that he never will be—not anymore.

“No, no, stop.” She whimpers, shaking her head in an attempt to reject Dan’s restless lips.

He doesn’t stop, however, too engaged in the moment to really understand the words stuttering from her mouth. He continues kissing her, instead, moving down to her collarbones.

At this point, Y/n starts to hyperventilate. Between the sobs daring to escape her chest and the lack of air from her previous activities, everything is straining against her. She doesn’t fully understand how she was able to get this far without it being with Harry.

“Stop!”

Her arms push Dan off of her until she’s alone on the couch as he’s panting on the floor. She can’t breathe. Her chest is tightening and her cries are so harsh that her lungs are collapsing inside of her.

She reaches her hands up to the roots of her hair, pulling back on them as she tries to gather all the oxygen she can. At this point, her head feels light and her sight is completely blurred by the tears flowing out of them—ones that she doesn’t even try to stop.

“I’m s—so sor—ry.” She hiccups, her head falling to her hands.

Dan gulps as he tentatively stands from his spot on the floor, his hands up in front of him as if in a panic—trying desperately to figure out how to fix the mess being made in front of him.

He looks around the room, as if in search for something to guide him through this situation, but there’s nothing. All the room occupies is a broken woman, sobbing breathlessly on a couch in front of him, muttering incoherent phrases under her breath.

“Okay,” he huffs out, nodding his head to himself, “It’s okay, yeah? You’re okay?”

He occupies the empty spot next to her, hesitantly wrapping an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. In all honesty, Dan is complete shit at helping people during emotional breakdowns, and considering this one had happened so suddenly, he had absolutely no warning that he would be put in this position.

Y/n feels bad, she does, considering Dan doesn’t deserve the treatment she’s given him and surely doesn’t deserve what was once an innocent date to end up a complete disaster. But she can’t help it, and she can’t stop now, no matter how hard she tries.

“It’s Harry, isn’t it?”

His voice is nothing but a whisper, and the words that spoke out from his lips nearly brings every movement in Y/n’s body to a halt. She never told him that it was Harry who broke her heart, and to be honest, she doesn’t even find the strength within her to begin to question how he even knows of Harry—especially his relationship with her.

Of course, their relationship has been publicized for years, but Dan is a very closed-off type of person. He’s not much into music, either—another part of him that differs so drastically from Harry—and spends a majority of his time working or spending time outside rather than succumbing himself in social media.

He looks down at the rose ring wrapped around his pointer finger, twirling it around with the hand that was once wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders.

He knew the moment he saw Harry’s reaction that this ring very much belonged to him. He wasn’t quite sure why she sacrificed it so mindlessly—why it seemed to have no story behind it. But between everything Gabby’s told him and everything he’s gathered from her previous relationship, she wanted nothing more than to get rid of every reminder she had of him.

He doesn’t feel worthy enough for it, though. If Y/n and Harry don’t find their way back to each other, he feels she should at least give it to somebody that she loves, not somebody she needs to help her get over her heartbreak.

He slides it off his finger, placing it gently on the palm of his hand before closing his fingers into a fist.

“We can’t keep doing this, Y/n. Not if you can’t talk to me.” He mutters softly, “Not if you’re still in love with him, we’ll be getting nowhere.”

This makes her cry harder. She still doesn’t have the audacity to look up at him, no, how could she? After everything she’s done?

This is why she always ends up alone. No matter how in love she is, no matter how much effort she puts into a relationship, they always end up leaving her. It’s happened long before Harry, and she was so convinced he’d stay when he came around. She was so dead set on him being her forever, but the same thing happened again. He left, just like everyone else.

And now, Dan is leaving her, and although she can’t exactly blame him for doing so, it’s another wound to her heart—it’s another pain in her chest that only seems to increase with pain.

He sighs sadly at the sight in front of him, upset with himself that he’s probably a partial reason for her soul-shaking sobs and lack of air, but he has no other choice. If he stays with her, he’d be forcing her to love someone she doesn’t. He has to let her go if it means to possibly make amends with her happiness again.

He takes one of her shaking hands away from her face and bringing it towards his lap, spreading her fingers away from her palm so that he can set the ring softly against it.

She sobs at the sight, bringing her opposite hand to her mouth as she tries to quiet herself down.

“This was Harry’s, it always was. This belongs to you, Y/n, not me.”

She nods, trying her best to smile at him as a form of appreciation, but it fails miserably. He understands, though, that she cares, and doesn’t ask her any questions.

“I’ll let Gabby know to come home now, okay?”

He kisses the top of her head, the way he always does, before removing himself from the couch and toward the front door.

“Take care of yourself, Y/n. I mean it.”

And then, he’s gone, leaving Y/n alone in an empty house and her haunting thoughts. She feels the world is closing in on her, only giving her a restricted amount of air and a limited amount of light to see what’s in front of her.

She’s alone—she’s left by herself in a dark room that’s only being illuminated by the television light, where nobody can hear her, where nobody can touch her, where nobody can see her; in a place where she just can’t trust herself.

She’s left alone, as she’s always left, and she just can’t take it anymore.

Her emotions become so strong that her body collapses onto the floor, her head throbbing and throat burning from all the tears and cries. She can’t breathe, her lungs failing to take in oxygen and her chest is pounding.

It’s so bad that if Gabby doesn’t come home soon, she actually believes she’s going to die. She feels the tug on her heart and feels how hard it is for it to do its job properly—she practically feels it overworking itself.

“Oh, God.”

Gabby finds her on the floor, making her immediately drop her purse and run to her collapsed body. Y/n is a withering mess underneath her, completely drenched in sweat as violent sobs erupt from her body.

She’s quick to sit her up properly onto the floor before lifting her back onto the couch, running a comforting hand down the side of her neck as she begins to shush her down to a calm state. However, her attempt falters when Y/n shakes her head to remove Gabby’s touch from her neck.

“I can’t—I can’t—“

She tries to find words to explain what’s happening to her right now. Between the pain in her body and the feeling in her head, her brain is scrambling with so many fearful thoughts that the only thing she can truly comprehend is being saved from this horrifying feeling.

“Hospital.”

Gabby is taken aback when she says it, completely astonished by just how serious this all is. She realizes this isn’t a situation that she can fix on her own, and it makes her feel like such a bad friend that she can’t give her what she needs.

Tears fall from her eyes in panic, well aware that her friend is undergoing something far worse than a mental breakdown, but also knows that the hospital won’t be able to help her.

Only Harry can.

“Let me call for help, okay?“ She asks softly. “I’m gonna send help.”

When Harry sees Gabby’s contact light up his phone, something inside of him instantly fills with worry. He knows, without a doubt, that Gabby hates him more than anybody ever since what happened. And knowing her so well, she would never reach out to him, especially when her negative feelings toward him were so strong, unless it’s serious.

“Gabby?”

“You have to do something, Harry.” She cries through the phone, peaking over her shoulder to look over Y/n from her location in the kitchen.

She’s still a mess, holding her hand over her heart as if it were going to mend the pain. Her head is thrown over the back of the couch, her other hand running over her face continuously. Her sobs haven’t settled, only seeming to increase with panic over the unfamiliar reaction occurring over her body.

“She thinks you don’t want her and—Harry she thinks she’s dying. Her heart is so broken. She keeps saying her heart is going to fail her and I don’t—I don’t know what to do. I don’t think there’s anything I can do. She—she was trying so hard. Harry, please, you have to—you have to—“

Harry leans on his elbows over the kitchen counter, huffing out a shaky breath when he hears both Gabby and Y/n’s cries through the phone. He rubs his hand over his face, doing anything to prevent the tears nearly pooling out from his eyes.

He’d be lying if he said that guilt isn’t eating him alive in this moment. And it’s not that he hasn’t felt any remorse or any guilt since he’d broken Y/n’s heart, but he’s now fully aware that he has to look at the damage he’s done. He’ll have to witness all the pain, all the heartbreak he’s put her through, and nothing makes him feel worse.

“I’ll do anything.” He whimpers. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I promise, I won’t keep doing this to her, you have to believe me. Just—“ he lets out a broken breath, reaching his hand up to rub his eyes to prevent any tears from escaping, “just tell me what to do.”

Gabby wipes the tears from her cheeks, yet again peering over to watch over Y/n on the couch. To her dismay, there is absolutely no improvement.

“Come here, pick her up, and bring her home. Just talk to her, please. Nothing makes her feel worse than believing you don’t want her anymore. Hell, even if you don’t—I don’t know with you anymore—just give her something. You’re the only one that can fix this.”

He sighs, nodding his head before making his way out of his house without much of a response to her. He’s only concerned for Y/n, and is so focused on getting to her so that he can prove to her that he’s changed—that he’s not the same Harry he was and is going to be there for her for as long as his life lasts, even if she doesn’t allow it.

But it’s upon arrival he realizes how much more serious this is than he thought. She’s completely breaking down, every inch of her shaking and fear written on her face. She’s a complete and utter mess, a completely wrecked version of such a beautiful, unbroken woman who had so much love in her heart and surrounded by so much love in the air.

And even though Harry knows she believes she’s going to die, apart of him believes she’s already dead. The life inside of her has burned out and is now just a product of what once was. The Y/n he always known is long gone—so far gone he almost doesn’t believe it’s her.

He looks at her with the most distraught and sympathetic look Gabby has ever seen. She has never seen so much guilt in somebody before that—no matter how much she hates him—she can’t help but feel sorry for him, too.

“Baby, hey. Hey now, it’s alright.” He whispers, kneeling in front of Y/n’s shaking figure and tentatively reaching for her hair so that he can attempt to calm her down. “I’m here now, I’m right here.”

A pitiful sound leaves her lips when she looks up at him; something between a whine, a sob, and a groan. It’s messy from her throat being raw from all the screaming and cries, and it leaves an indescribable pain that only makes her cries stronger.

She can’t even think properly, everything in her body overworking itself. It’s something she’s never experienced before, and all the fears of it being permanent rush through her veins—leaving her with an overwhelming amount of anxiety.

“She’s having a panic attack.” Harry mumbles to Gabby, making sure to rub gently over the back of Y/n’s neck. Although panic attacks weren’t common for her, whenever she was overwhelmed and stressed, this gesture always seemed calmed her down.

“I don’t know what to do. I can’t drive with her like this I—Gabby, how do I focus with her like this?” He cries, the situation in front of him making his body turn to shambles, “Especially when it’s my fault? How do I—do I keep her here until she’s calm? I don’t—I don’t know—”

Gabby shakes her head, reaching her hand over to graze his tense shoulder. She squeezes the muscle softly, almost as a sort of reassurance.

“She needs home, Harry—” she whispers, “she needs you.

He nods, choking back sobs as he brushes the hair out of Y/n’s face. The skin of her face is red and completely soaked, but this is the first time he’s seen her since the morning in the grocery store, and she’s never looked so beautiful.

“I’m going to take you home with me, Y/n. But I need you to breathe for me, can you do that?” He asks, holding her face delicately between his hands, “Breathe with me.”

Y/n sucks in a deep breath when Harry inhales deeply, attempting to rid all the anxiety and pain settling inside of her. Her inhale is broken between hiccups and cries, but as she keeps eye contact with him as she tries to calm down, a little part of her feels revived.

“It hurts.” She whimpers between sobs, referring to the pain in her chest and the throbbing in her head that just can’t seem to heal.

She watches as Harry’s face scrunches with an agonizing cry, and she knows he’s aware of exactly what she’s talking about. She’s been brokenhearted for so long, she doesn’t even think he’s the least bit shocked when she tells him her heart is hurting.

“I know, baby. I know.” He whispers as he kisses her forehead gently. “Let’s get you home, yeah? Make you feel better?”

And as much as she wants to hate him, or yell at him for everything he’s done to her and make him understand just how much of her life he’s ruined, she genuinely feels like her body is going to collapse at any given moment. She needs him, even if it’s just for right now, she has to just focus on everything happening in the now. Harry’s come back to her and she’s about to go back home.

Because if she doesn’t think about the present moment—Harry holding her, Harry kissing her, Harry about to take the both of them back to their house—she’ll never find a way to fix herself. She’ll be stuck in this anxiety and pain for far too long—so long that it could actually kill her.

So she closes her eyes, only focusing on his touch and his breath fanning over her wet face. She forgets the t-shirt, she forgets all the times he’s ignored her after declaring them to take a break, and she forgets about Jessica. At least for right now, she can focus on all that tomorrow.

She nods, and it’s then Harry notices how much more calm she is. Although she’s still crying and still incapable of speaking much from the aching in her throat, she’s breathing properly again and her once undying sobs have turned into soft whimpers.

He leans in so that he can properly wrap his arms around her, hooking one hand on her back and the other under her knees. There’s no way in hell she’s capable of walking—not like this, and in all honesty, he would much rather hold her now than leave her side for another second.

It’s when Y/n is being held so close to him again that the aching in her chest seems to almost vanish completely. And although there is still a weight on top of her lungs, and still a slight uncomfortableness in her heart, she’s finally able to breathe again.

“I’m gonna make this all better, okay? I promise you, gonna fix you.” He mumbles with his lips against her hairline, making sure to keep rubbing the back of her neck softly.

It’s a promise he intends on keeping—a promise he never plans on breaking again. He could never live with himself if he were to keep putting her through all of this pain. She’s the most undeserving person—he knows that—and he knows she’s too pure to go through all that she’s been through the past couple of months.

The car ride is completely silent, only Y/n’s cries and small sniffles filling the empty space. Although she still isn’t completely calm, she’s improved so much since he first came to pick her up and it is able to keep his mind at ease. At least while he drives.

And he doesn’t miss her hand sneaking over the console to intertwine her fingers with his. He doesn’t expect it but he also doesn’t mind it. If anything, it makes him feel better just as much as it does her.

When they pull up to the driveway of their once shared house, every bit of composure she’s withheld in her body is breaking down by the second. Her strength is wearing thin, and knowing she’ll be reuniting in the house where Y/n and Harry once had everything makes her more afraid than ever.

Harry notices her sudden shift in mood and doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle himself from his seat and walk around the car to where her exhausted figure is sobbing, slumped against the passenger seat. He sighs meekly before unbuckling her, as well, and lifting her against him the way he had before.

“Hey there, s’alright, I’m here. We’ll work this out, but you need to sleep first, yeah? Looking very pale and I know you well enough to see you’ve been lacking sleep.”

Although they both know Y/n isn’t going to respond, she wants to continue listening to him speak. It’s something she hasn’t heard in so long, and she wouldn’t even care if he was talking about the goddamn weather, she just wants to hear him again.

He keeps talking, too, because he notices the effects of his voice on her anxiety and how the muscles in her body relax under his words. He’ll stop at nothing to make sure she’s okay again, even if it means having a one-sided conversation.

“You know how you are, too—grumpy and sensitive when you’re tired. Almost take my head off if you don’t get more than seven hours. Remember that one time at my mum’s Christmas dinner party? Barely slept the night before from wrapping so many gifts that you genuinely got upset with me for not knowing your favorite alcoholic beverage.” He chuckles softly. “Funny lil thing.“

Through the nonstop crying and the frown that hasn’t left Y/n’s lips in what feels like an eternity, the first smile stretches from her lips. It’s the smallest closed mouth smile he’s ever seen, but it’s there, and it’s the most genuine feeling of happiness she’s had in so long.

When Harry unlocks the door, he wastes no time making his way over to their couch. He knows very well that she wouldn’t want to sleep on their bed, considering she’s well aware of what he did with Jessica on that bed and he wants no reason to upset her any further.

He sets her down in front of the couch, petting the top of her head softly before gathering a blanket and a pillow for her to sleep on.

He sets it up like a bed, almost, before turning to leave so that she can have her privacy. He doesn’t think she’d want to sleep with him, so he decides to sleep in the guest bedroom since he knows she’d always pick the living room couch over that room.

But before he gets too far, Y/n weakly captures his fingers in hers, pulling him back towards her.

His head snaps down to her finger, noticing the rose ring being worn beautifully on her middle finger. He almost chokes when he sees it on her, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in half confusion and half in awe.

“Please,” she whimpers, “stay.”

He snaps out of his trance at her words, slowly nodding his head as a small “of course” falls from his lips.

He lays comfortably on the couch, looking up at her when he finds a position where she can lay beside him.

“If you want you can take the—alright” he huffs.

His eyes narrow as he watches her lay on top of him—fully on top of him; her cheek nesting right where his shoulder meets his neck as her arms slither around his sides until her hands meet under his back. Her legs tangle perfectly in between his, and in any other circumstance, this probably wouldn’t have been an ideal sleeping position for the either of them. But Y/n is exhausted, both physically and mentally, and she feels this is the only position she can sleep.

Harry doesn’t mind, and easily ignores the subtle uncomfortableness in his back as he wraps his arms securely around her frame.

Although Y/n is already fast asleep on top of it, he’s unsure how he can close his eyes for longer than a blink. This could be the last chance he has to be with her in this way. He’s unsure what tomorrow holds for the both of them and their relationship—it could end entirely or create an entirely new beginning.

With the possibilities almost endless against their favor, he doesn’t want to miss a second of what could be the last of her in his life. So, he embraces the feeling of her tight hold, the little puddle of drool on the shoulder of his t-shirt, and the tickle on his chin from her loose strands of hair, because this could be the last time he feels all of that.

But he also can’t help but feel that small bit of hope still latching onto him. That somewhere—deep down—he knows they belong to each other for the rest of their lives. And that, maybe, if the universe decides that their relationship should end tomorrow, he knows destiny will find a way for the both of them again.

So, he holds her a little tighter, breathes her in a little harsher, and soaks up all the extra warmth in her body, and prays that everything will be okay.

His First. (A Dirty Harry Styles One Shot)

- In which Harry is a bit.. inexperienced in the bedroom.

Harry thought he could hide it. He thought he could get away with it. But, when everything came to him so all of a sudden, he realized that he was trapped, and the only way to get out, was by telling the truth. 

And so he did.

“What?” you ask breathlessly, your hands at the mid of Harry’s patterned shirt, fingers frozen on the buttons, pulling the colorful fabric away from his tall and lanky form.

“I-I’m.. yeh are my first.”


Keep reading

abs and algebra - peter parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Summary: Prompt List- #20. “Arguing with you is always at the top of my list.”

Y/N never thought that the fitness room would make such a great study place. Peter never thought working out instead of homework was such a good excuse.

Requested: yes

Warning: language, slight teen angst, lol teen hormones

Word Count: 2339

Here’s another Peter one! I did a slight angst one bc I never really do those so here ya go! Lol hope you all enjoy!

Tagged List: @sigh-whoami @imsecretlyromanburki

MASTERLIST

_____________________________________________________________________

Why does he act like he knows absolutely everything? Why is always wearing that stupid blue sweater? Didn’t he know that it was a like eighty degrees outside? And why is he staring a hole through you right now, with his lips turned up like that, god that annoyed you so much. Oh god, and why are you blushing, uneasy mess right now? Snap the fuck out of it!

You quickly snapped your intense yet annoyed gaze at Peter and focused back on your homework. You still felt the burning feeling of his eyes on you as you continued to finish your Algebra homework. Why wasn’t he doing his homework? Great question, he should be finishing his homework. This was yet another one of the millions of qualities you didn’t care for about Peter Parker. It wasn’t that you hated him per se it was just, he acts like- well he thinks- okay fine. You really, really didn’t like him.

It was just almost everything about him ticked you off in such a way it made your eyes roll into the back of your head every time something cocky rolled off his tongue, or when he proved how much he could actually lift in the gym room, and when he acted as if he was the biggest superhero to roam the streets since Tony Stark.

He wasn’t.

I mean, neither were you. Sure, you couldn’t catch a bus with your bare hands. Or hang upside down from walls like a complete idiot, but you still had powers too. Yours weren’t trapping people in webbing, but they were pretty powerful. But, that’s besides the point. The point was, Peter Parker would find his way around a fucking mountain just to piss you off.

You didn’t to say it was personal, but it was. At school, he was a completely different person. His usual loud, rowdy, and arrogant persona you saw almost every day at the base was flipped into a shy, quiet, and polite teenage boy around his schoolmates and teachers. His superhero tactics and attitude must of paved the way for his ego to grow immensely around you outside of school. You didn’t even speak to him in Algebra class, it was as if you two didn’t know each other. He was low on the social radar at school, but you, you were even lower.

That didn’t bother you, knowing that as long as Peter kept your secret from everyone, you would keep his. But, this whole “teammate guidelines” book wasn’t even established beyond the boundaries of missions. Around the base, he would do anything to piss you off, and he knew it. He knew how angry you would get when he yanked your glasses of playfully as you worked vigorously on your homework. Or, when you would have to go on missions with him, he acted as if you were there to observe and he was sent to complete the job.

This was one thing you never grew tired of, and you attempted to tell Tony, but then decided against it, due to the fact Tony would just believe it was the two teens on the team who wanted to start drama.

So, you tried to keep your fiery comments back to Peter very slim, but that was on a good day.

Today was not one of those days.

Your mind had been attempting to focus its full attention on your Algebra homework for the past hour, but everywhere you traveled to try and get some peace and quiet, something disrupted you. So, you decided to land your final destination in the Fitness Room, somewhere you never went (lol). You typed in the pass code on the pad next to the door and walked in, the sound of absolute silence hitting your eardrums instantly. The sound was music to yours in a way as the silence settled you down and kept you calm.

Finally. There’s no arguing Tony and Steve, no loud Bucky and Sam, and then best of all, no bickering, egotistical Peter.

You sighed heavily in victory before making way to the only table in the Fitness Room. Sitting down at the white table, you pulled out your Algebra book and spiral, turning directly to the page you had stopped on when you heard Thor yell from behind you, “Neither of you are worthy!”.

You place your hands in your tangled locks, slipping on your glasses before looking down at the book to continue your studying in hopefully, silence.

Okay, if the four is squared then there’s no way this could work. The problem has to be undefined, I just don’t understand how-

You obviously spoke way too soon. Your thinking was stopped midway of the problem once your ears perked at the sound of the door swinging open and the footsteps of the last person you would want in there with you at the moment.

“Hey! Y/N! What are you doing studying in here?”

The voice that made your head ache and your veins pop out of your arms rang through your ears in a loud, uneasy echo throughout the seemingly vacant room.

Your Y/E/C eyes shut themselves tightly, fists matching them as you reached up to yank your glasses off your head and slam them down on your book in annoyance. Turning around to lock gazes with the prick behind you, you feel the peak of your complete and utter luck drop to the bottom of the line.

“This was the only quiet place in the entire building,” your pink lips open in a scowl as you made sure to emphasize the ‘was’ in your statement.

Peter’s brown eyes rolled into the back of his head as he tossed his towel across the room, landing on a weight bench. His shoulders shrugged in a careless manner, “Well, now it isn’t.”

A deep groan emitted from the bottom of your throat at his comment. Why can’t you just do one thing? One thing, Without Peter worming his ass into it. Whatever, you’ll just ignore him for the time being. You could do that, right? Of course you could.

Another sigh emits from you before you turn back around and attempt to focus on the problem that’s been eating your energy our for minutes. Slipping your glasses back on, you pick up your pencil and begin to work the problem form the beginning, seeing if you could start over and maybe, finally solve it.

As you began to write the four transitioning from the other side of the equation, your brain realized that wouldn’t work and mentally erased the idea from your mind. Minutes passed, and after five tries, your mind starts to get antsy and annoyed with the erase marks and X’s scattered all across your paper.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t subtract it from the-but wait. Then you would have to add, but no. That doesn’t make any sense either…” you muttered yourself, grumbling as you trailed off your incorrect thought and filed it with the others. You bit your chapped lip and tugged on it as your eyes lifted from the book to wander around the room in thought.

Your eyes shifted from towards the left corner of your eye and your intense, diligent gaze shifted from cloudy numbers scattered around your brain to a site that you hate to admit it, made your mind wander from math to an entirely new adventure. As you thought your eyes would meet a vacant workout bench, they instead met a very sweaty and very shirtless Peter Parker lifting weights before you.

What even was, Math?

Your thoughts vanished of immediate hatred every time your eyes met his figure. This time, your mouth went from ‘opened wide to scream something cursing at the boy in front of you’ to ‘close your damn mouth, Y/N, drool is starting to form at the boy in front of you’. His slightly tanned bare chest glistened with sweat dripping down to this stomach area. Obviously, Peter had yanked off the fully covered sweater that adorned his apparently, toned ass body underneath. You silently and guiltily prayed to the gods for the sight before you.

You continued to stare heavily at the sweaty, ripped boy lifting weights before you. Your eyes then trailed up to his bulging biceps, flexing every time the weight would come up above his sweaty head of hair. You felt your breath become heavy and your chest rise up in nervousness each time his body flexed in a new and fucking incredible way.  Your eyes then made way to Peter’s hair, he usual slicked back hair was ruffled in curls, due to the fact the wetness made his true hair type become evident.

Okay fine, you knew Peter was very, very attractive. But this? This was something you definitely didn’t need in your life. This was going to make everything ten times harder in an argument with the ripped boy next to you. Why god, why? But at the same time, thank you god, thank you.

“Are you done?”

The sound of Peter’s raspy and slightly high voice range through your ears, snapping you out of your guilty Peter stare down. You veins pumped with nerves and your eyes greeted Peter’s right brown orbs in an entire new kind of look. The clouded anticipation of Peter’s body was no longer evident in your eyes, it was now the usual annoyed glaze over your orbs. Your brain wracked for something smart to say back, knowing you’d been caught.

God, he is never going to let you live this down.

“What are you talking about?” you faked reality and acted as if he was the crazy one. You narrow your lids in seemingly displeasure and throw your pencil down, which had almost broken due to your fist squeezing it into oblivion.

Peter then jumped down from the slightly high step that supported numerous types of workout equipment. His wet towel was grasped in his right hand as he walked to right next to you, bare body leaning against the pole, “You’ve been checking me out for the past three minutes,” he interjected, arms folded across his chest cockily.

Your heart was beating quickly at his sudden confession, the truth obviously being told. You attempted to think of something fast before your major contemplative actions became too obvious. So, you thought of the most clever response you could come up with on a whim.

“Ew, no I haven’t.”

Wow, Y/N. That was genuinely so clever, you dumb ass.

“Uh, yeah you were,” he pushed back, leaning himself of the pole and inching closer to you.

“NO, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have.”

“Nope.”

“Yes!”

“NO!”

“YES!”

“Peter it’s called thinking!” you sassed back, now standing up as aggravation swept your entire demeanor. Your own arms folded over your chest in a heated daze as your eyes never took themselves off Peter’s.

“Really, 'cause the last time I checked, biting your lip and staring at someone’s chest isn’t called thinking.”

Your body was so close to Peter’s you could feel the hot breath roll off his lips and hot your face as he fired back another comment. The body proximity of you two was nearly close to passing the 'too close’ line, but you didn’t care. You weren’t about to let Peter have this hanging over your head for the rest of your life. No matter how fucking good he looked sweaty and shirtless, you had to win.

Your eyes searched Peter’s in an intent stare as you popped out a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind for months, “Why do you always want to argue with me?”

You watched as Peter’s pink lips turned up into a playful smirk before stepping across that proximity into dangerous territory. Your pulse quickened at your state, your body instantly responding to a glorious hot and sweaty boy standing so close to you. Your cheeks flushed as the thoughts of this ran through your brain. Your teenage hormones didn’t give a shit whether it was Peter Parker or not standing this close to you in this state, they just knew how to play you.

Peter’s lips inched closer to yours, and the closer they got, the farther your brain got from the feeling of dislike and annoyance with the boy in front of you.

“Because, arguing with you is always at the top of my list,” he daringly whispered against your lips, the breath from his comment hitting your mouth slyly. Your eyes bounced from Peter’s bright brown eyes down to those egotistical lips numerous times before you had no idea what the hell you were doing. Your hormones were in drive.

The next thing you knew, your hand wrapped itself around Peter’s neck and yanked him forward to meet your mouth in a hot, fiery, and searing kiss. The word hatred meant nothing to you as his slightly chapped lips pushed themselves back onto yours and his arms wrapped around your frame. One hand was placed on the back of his neck and the other reached down and ran up and down his glorious abs. You felt him moan slightly at your soft touch and pulled you even closer to him, if that was a possibility. Your body ignited with sparks at his touch, and your knees shook as his tongue attempted to slide itself past your lips.

With no sense of manner or care in the world, you allowed him to and your body almost fainted at the feeling. You could tell it was getting hot and heavy a little too soon, so you shut your lips back together and took your hand off the back of his neck and sighed against his lips.

Peter took this as a signal and kissed you one last time softly before pulling away. Both your bodies breathed heavily near each other in need for instant air. Your eyes met in a warm daze and you reached up in delight to faintly touch your lips.

Faces burning with sudden realizations and passion, you drew apart and for the first time, smiled genuinely at the other.

some ladynoir stuff
  • chat noir will drape himself over ladybug’s lap during the downtime on their nightly patrols and moan about how awful plagg is just for some head scratches from ladybug (let’s be honest, plagg taught the kitty well; complain and receive cheese/ladybug)
  • they once spent an afternoon atop the notre dame after an akuma attack critiquing civilian’s fashion choices. both learned that their partner has excellent taste in fashion.
    • ladybug: “oh my god is that a man bun? those things should be burned.”
    • chat noir: “who the hell wears crocs anymore? they look like shit, and they make your feel smell. god, shoes have three deciding factors: quality, price, and style. crocs have the rare combination of being expensive, poor quality, and being ugly. it’s quite a feat for one shoe to suck this much. i will judge anyone who wears crocs.”
  • ladybug uses chat noir as a mannequin to measure some of her designs during their downtime. 
  • there are frequent arguments over akuma names because some are too stupid to say aloud. ladybug believes in creativity and free will and vows to let the akumas keep the names they declare themselves with. chat noir files petitions to change many of them because he absolutely refuses to admit he nearly got beat by a Mr. Pigeon.
  • if ladybug and chat noir are literally anywhere together outside in public without an akuma, someone’ll always ask, “are you two together? are you on a date?”. chat has to hold ladybug back from clobbering them.
  • during their stakeouts, chat noir sings “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” and has gotten to 1 before, even though it usually ends up with him getting pitched off a roof.
  • one early morning, there was an akuma battle, and chat noir learned that ladybug has bad bed head. he makes sure to keep a comb in his pocket now at all times for whenever there’s an early battle, and ladybug doesn’t have time to fix her hair before going to school. she doesn’t say it, but she’s really thankful. (also really jealous because tikki, pockets, give me pockets, god fucking damn it)
  •  one time there was a mermaid akuma in the seine and chat noir fell in the water and revealed he couldn’t swim. ladybug saved him and made him take swimming lessons. nothing beats coming to sunday morning swimming lessons and finding one of paris’s famous superheros with floaties and a kick board.
    • you can bet your ass that ladybug constantly makes “a cat to water” jokes every second she can.
  • ladybug keeps a tally of how many puns chat noir makes. his gets to 162 in one night before she sets a limit of 10 puns per day. he breaks it all the time and has to wear the Collar of Shame™ for the rest of the day, which is black collar with a huge pink bow. (ladybug thinks he secretly likes it).
  • chat noir actually hates ladybug’s puns and buys her the “Punning for Dummies” book for Christmas.
    • she gets him “31 Ways Not To Be A Douchebag”.
  •  ladybug doesn’t actually know how to use a real yo-yo. chat noir laughs for two weeks.
  •  ladybug and chat noir regularly attend movies as themselves because no one really knows why the superheroes are going to the movies, but it probably means there’s an akuma or something equally bad so let’s just not go. it just means they get the best seats every time.
  • sometimes when they’re really tired and stressed out, and ladybug is being bossy and chat noir is fed up with hearing it, he’ll say, “okay, deborah” which causes her to pitch him off the eiffel tower.
  • chat noir can never get into a hammock. he always flips over every time he tries to get on one.
  • one time ladybug flubbed a back handspring, and the news stations got it live. chat noir plays it on repeat for a week.
Cracker Jacks and kiss cams

Summary: A story in which Bucky Barnes is very smitten, there’s a baseball game between the New York Mets and the Chicago Cubs, and Cracker Jacks are consumed.

Prompt: “I never thought you’d break my heart”
Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: None. A bit of language maybe, but this is all just sappy fluff. 

A/N: This is my submission for @just-some-drabbles​ Rom-Com writing challenge, thanks for letting me join last minute and congratulations on reaching 4k! This story came about because I really love baseball, I really love the Chicago Cubs, and I really love Bucky Barnes, so all in all, it felt like a win-win.

MASTERLIST

(Bucky, opening Google search)

“how do you know if a woman is interested”
“when do you know if a woman wants to kiss you”
“how to tell a woman you love her without saying it”
“why do I suck at talking to her”
“oh my god why can’t I just ask her out” 

Keep reading

Seventeen as things my art teacher has said
  • Seungcheol: Even though you're my top class, I still hate you all
  • Jeonghan: Louis does my hair look ok? Like...does it look like my hair had been conditioned by 10000 little stars?
  • Joshua: I will not have that word in my household. From now on, the word 'baka' is banned.
  • Jun: Oh good morning gremlins it's your handsome teacher :))))))))))))
  • Soonyoung: You may keep your head high but he will always be high-er. That's it. He's just blazed all the time.
  • Wonwoo: Yo.....kids may be weird.......but you guys are weirder god damn
  • Jihoon: Louis can you not be like 6ft I feel very intimidated by you sometimes.
  • Seokmin: What do you mean I'm the worst teacher? I'm the best damn teacher you'll ever have I even made you brownies!!
  • Mingyu: We honestly don't deserve dogs I meAN HAVE YOU SEEN CHOW CHOWS LOOK ITS LIKE A FLUFFY BABY LION
  • Minghao: Holy shit that's adorable.....burn it....you never know if it will come alive at night.
  • Seungkwan: This art is amazing I'll pay you £1 and half a pizza for it
  • Hansol: I'll give you guys extra credit towards uni if you incorporate bubbles or snoop dogg into the painting
  • Chan: Help.
Passionfruit | 3

“To you, matters of the heart have always been simple. You’ve always lived by three rules: you don’t do emotions, you don’t do attachment, and you don’t do love. That is, until you meet the enigma that is Kim Namjoon- a man who shakes your entire world upside down.”

pairing: namjoon x reader
genre: smut, angst
wordcount: 8.4k

part one | two | three

Keep reading

signs as sentences from a  bad phanfic

Aries:  What was Dan’s password again? Evanpeter? Nope. Danisonfire? No. Password123? It wasn’t it either. I mean Dan isn’t that stupid.

Libra: Still he liked his blog because it had been for quite a while, an important part of his life. It was almost a part of him.

Taurus:  “I’m always right” “Well you’re left-handed”

Scorpio:  "You’re homophobes? “ Dan asked a disbelieving and disgusted look on his face."Not really” The lady stuttered. “We’re just not comfortable spending with people who’ll go to hell"  "What the actual fuck? ” Dan mumbled.

Gemini: The fans had of course noticed it and fangirled. 

Sagittarius:  “Danny, the neighbors, what are they gonna think? ” Phil asked blushing.“Im pretty sure they’re gonna think we’re having sex ” Dan replied wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive way. 

Cancer: “Are you kidding me Dan? What will our audience think? They already assume were dating and now…" 

Capricorn:   "The video can wait but I can’t”. And that’s how Dan and Phil published their video 3 hours late.

Leo: “So, you’re going to be 30?”“Yeah, it’s crazy! I don’t feel… old”“Do I have to call you Mr. Lester, you old man? ”“Hey! ” Phil pulled an upset face before adding: “Respect your elders! " 

Aquarius: "DAn and pHIL OH my GOD! ” Dan quickly let go of Phil’s hand and turned around to see two girls coming their way. They were both wearing merch.

Virgo:  But before Phil could burn the surreal picture in his memory, Dan turned around and noticed Phil. He screamed in a high pitch voice and covered himself with his towel.

Pisces:  “The light and warmth you bring to our lives is as everlasting as the sun? Really Howell? That’s such a platonic friend tweet. Also the sun isn’t everlasting you stupid”

Possession Sentence Starters

Send a sentence to my inbox for a starter in which one of our muses is possessed by a spirit, demon, or other being. Trigger warning for threats of violence, harsh language,  manipulation, and obviously sensitive religious content.

“You’re not eating. Are you okay?”
“Your breathing sounds rapid.”
“I’m concerned. You’re not yourself today.”
“We’ve brought you here because we’re all very worried about you.”
“What is -wrong- with you?”
“Seriously, it’s like you’re a different person! What the hell happened?”
“I don’t think I like this person you’re becoming.”
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Hey, calm down. You’re really scaring me right now.”
“Oh my God. Who - who are you? WHAT are you?!”
“You’re not [name] anymore.”
“What have you done with my friend?!” [change relationship as necessary]
“Oh God, you’re not even human!”
“Snap out of it! Come back!”
“Please, stay away from me. Don’t take another step closer.”
“You’re not fooling me. I know what you are.”
“Calm down, [name]. This will pass. This will pass.”
“Get out of my friend and never fucking come back!”
“I don’t believe you. You’re lying.”
“Why should I listen to anything a monster like you has to say?”
“You’re just a parasite. Nothing more than a slimy, pathetic parasite!”
“If you’re in there, you need to keep fighting. Don’t let this monster win!”
“It’s gone. It’s okay. I’m going to keep you safe.”


“I don’t feel so well.”
“Oh God, something is wrong with me.”
“I can feel it. It burns in my chest, it’s making it hard to breathe. Oh my god, there’s something inside of me.”
“I don’t want to be a monster.”
”I think I‘m going to be sick.”
“Please. Save me.”
“Get out! Get out of here!”
“I swear, I’ll cut you open if you come near me!”
“What are you afraid of? That I’ll hurt you?”
“Look, it’s still me. Don’t you love me?”
“Come back here! Don’t you walk away from me!”
“Oh, [name]~ I have a fun game we can play together~”
“I’m not [name] anymore. I. Am. God.”
“Pray for your life. I want to hear you beg for it.”
“Your friend is nothing but filth and rot, and I had no choice but to destroy them.”
“They’re gone now. I’m the only one left. It’s just you and me.”
“I’ve spoken to the devil, and he wants you next.”
“I’m not human. I’ve never been human, but you accepted me anyway.”
“Go! Leave before it comes back and rips you apart!”
“Please, kill me. It’s the only way to get it out of me.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Don’t let it take me. Please.”
“Is - is it gone?”
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

He doesnt know why he’s so worked up, honestly.

They’ve been dating for a month, now. Surely that’s more than enough waiting for something so small. And Yuri was always comfortable with being physically close to him, even before they got together.

So why are his palms so sweaty?

“Beka? Are you alright?”

Shit. He spaced out too long and now Yuri’s noticed. “I’m fine, Yura. Are you done?”

“Yeah!” he lifted the leopard print shopping bag to show him, grinning happily. “You still didn’t have to pay for it, though.”

“It’s your birthday, Yura. Whatever wish you have, I’ll grant it.”

Yuri’s face flushed so quickly Otabek was scared he’d combust. “Why- you- god, you’re so fucking sappy and gross. I can’t handle it sometimes.”

“You love me,” Otabek chuckles, prodding Yuri’s forehead lightly.

Yuri scoffs, but his blush doesn’t move. “Whatever. I’m starving.”

“Ah, right. I know a place, it isn’t too far from here.”

“And this time, I’m paying, alright?”

He chuckles. “You wish.”

And this, he realizes, is the perfect time for him to do it. Dinner is their last stop for their date, so this might be his only chance at doing this…

Quickly, before he loses his nerve, he casually slings his arm over Yuri’s shoulders and starts leading them away from the store.

He feels Yuri’s shoulders tense, and suffers through a brief second of panic - oh god, I’ve probably overstepped his boundaries. He probably feels so uncomfortable right now, how do I take this back - before he feels them relax, and Yuri brings his hand to the one Otabek has on his shoulders and entwines them together, as if they’ve done this many times before.

This time it’s Otabek’s cheeks that are burning, and Yuri doesn’t let it go unnoticed. He laughs, poking Otabek’s cheek. “You’re so goddamn cute sometimes.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re talking about yourself, Yura.” Otabek replies, and he leads them through the busy streets with his arm wrapped tightly around Yuri’s shoulders.

Haunting Me: Chapter 1

A/N; Eeeeek! Here it is guys, chapter 1! This story has me so pumped and i’m so happy you guys liked the intro. I hope you guys like this chappie, cuz it’s a bit of a giant relief haha. ENJOY! - Delilah ❤️

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x POC Reader

Haunting Me: Y/N is a normal young adult living in New York, but little does she know that she’s a reincarnation of the long lost Bucky Barnes’ fiance from the 1940′s. What happens when she runs into Steve in 2012? Most importantly, what happens when she runs into The Winter Soldier?

Warnings: Swearing. Slight angst. Mild violence. Hella feels. 





2012

You focused on the pencil in your hand, shading the paper as carefully as possible.

New York was beautiful in the summer time, especially once the sun hit the right spot in the sky. It wasn’t a cloudy day by any chance; in fact, there wasn’t a single cloud in sight. You sat in the metal chair, your legs crossed beneath you as you focused on the sketch in front of you. You reached for the pastry on the plate next to it and took a small bite out of it, chewing slowly.

You enjoyed your time alone, as you always did, especially when you got to sketch the totally gorgeous Calvin Klein model sitting two seats down from you.

Okay, he probably wasn’t a model, but he sure as hell looked like one.  He was built like a brick house and those eyes. Jesus –you could get lost in those ocean blue orbs of his. From what it looked like, he was drawing as well. He could draw and look super-hot while doing it? He was a rare gem. However, as you cocked your head to the side, curiously studying his features, you couldn’t help but notice how sad he looked. It made your chest ache just seeing him brood like that.

“Another brownie ma’am?” the waitress asked with a smile. And by the grace of god, the total hottie looked over at you. You blushed, looking up at the waitress with a timid smile.

“Um. No thank you.” She gave you a quick nod before walking away.

When you looked back over at the mysterious blond, you expected him to give you a small smile and continue throughout his day, but boy were you wrong. You looked back over and to your surprise, he was openly staring at you, his blue eyes widened with an odd mixture of fear and shock. He blinked rapidly, his eyes focusing on your face shamelessly.

Immediately you felt so self-conscious. Was there something on your face? Did you creep him out?  Oh god, did your eyeliner smudge. You had a habit of rubbing your face whilst drawing and you did forget you were wearing makeup sometimes.

After a few minutes of being stared down by the man, you had quite enough. You hastily packed your sketch book into your bag and placed a few dollar bills onto the table before standing. You swore you could feel the burning of eyes on your back as you stealthy maneuvered around the sea of people.

Before you could take another step, you felt a tight grip on your arm stop you.

“What are you doing?” you exclaimed, turning around with a scowl. You reached in your pocket for your pepper spray.

“I-I’m sorry!” The man sputtered, his eyes softened once he peered around at the many people watching the two of you. There was a small crowd surrounding you now and you felt so embarrassed, yet relieved. He wouldn’t dare try anything in public.  

You yanked your arm back, holding it in your wrist. “Why are you following me? Do I know you or something?” your last question caused him to frown. You could practically see the wheels turning in the man’s head as he chose his words carefully. He sighed heavily, before his eyes travelled down to the bag in your hand.  

“I uh…noticed you drawing earlier and I wanted to say how nice your shading technique was. That’s all.”

You blinked, your eyes widening. He did all that for a damn compliment? Who was this guy?

“Thank you,” you replied, which came out more as a question. Soon, the people around you began going about their day once they realized there was no harm being done to you. Leaving the two of you standing in the middle of the busy sidewalk.

“My name is Steve,” he smiled, holding out his hand for you. “Steve Rogers.” You raised your eyebrows. That was a bit of an older fashioned name, but you weren’t complaining. Your mom tried to name you Jane once before your birth.

“I’m Y/N,” you replied, gently taking his hand and shaking it.  

“Y/N Y/L/N.”


As the next couple years went by, you and Steve became two peas in a pod.  

Wherever you went, he went. At first, you found it sort of creepy that your best friend was following you around town all the time, showing up at your apartment in the middle of the night when the Stark tower got too much for him and he needed a place to sleep properly. After a while, you just assumed the man was a bit lonely, which was fine by you considering you were, too.

There were times where you two would just stay up all night watching old movies from his time. His favorite was My Darling Clementine, which you had seen so many times that you now knew the entire film’s script by memory. 

Soon, Steve began accompanying you on your trips to art galleries for school. It was a win/win for you as he always attracted so much attention being the hot shot Captain America he was, also, he eased the storm of anxiety that you struggled with your entire life. Steve was your wing man.  

But there were some times when you felt that maybe Steve wanted to be more than friends. 

You always thought of him as a brother figure, but the way he would look at you whenever he thought you weren’t noticing, it had you a bit confused. It happened when you were watching the old movies. He would look at you from out the corner of his eye, watching your reactions closely. You figured it was because he had a thing for you, which you didn’t return. 

You had a couple boyfriends here and there, but nothing special. And Steve, bless his heart, had completely unapproved of them all. 

But whenever you would sing along to your favorite song, Over the Rainbow by Judy Garland, you would see the look even more. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something about that song probably caused unpleasant memories for him. You wondered why. 

Another time you got The Look, was when you smoked. It was a habit, yeah, one that you’ve had for far too long. Every time you would be out and about with him -which was always- and you lit up a cigarette, he would immediately scold you until you put it out. You loved Stevie, but you were a big girl. You could make your own decisions. 


You were lounging on your couch, watching old reruns of Seinfeld, when a loud banging on your front door causing you to nearly jump out of your skin. You looked over at your phone. 

Five O’clock. 

Steve was currently on a mission, or so you thought. Who on earth could it be? 

You sighed, standing up from the couch and made your way towards the front door. You flung the door open, expecting to see Steve standing there with a box of pizza like always, but instead you got something way, way more complicated. 

“W-What is going on?” you asked, eyeing the two other Avengers beside your best friend. 

Steve let out a sigh, giving you a guilty smile. “These are my uh…coworkers.” 

You blinked, staring at him with wide eyes. Coworkers? Really?

“May we come inside?” Natasha asked as she clutched her shoulder tightly. Her face was twisted into a grimace as she tried to cover the obvious gunshot wound in her shoulder. Your eyes widened. 

“Of course!” you jumped, reaching forward and gently placing your hand on her back, and guiding her into your apartment. She let out a groan when you touched her shoulder. 

“I think I’m gonna need a new shoulder.” she said. 


You placed the cotton swab on Natasha’s shoulder, gently dabbing the fresh stitches you had applied. She was lucky to be alive, the bullet barely missed a major artery. A couple more centimeters and she would’ve bled out in seconds. 

“So are you guys gonna tell me what the hell happened?” you asked, turning around in your chair to face Steve, who was seated on your couch, his body bruised and battered from the obvious fight. 

Whoever they ran into managed to put up on hell of a fight. 

“His name is The Winter Soldier,” Natasha chimed from behind you. She avoided your eyes as she spoke “He’s Hydra’s top assassin. He’s killed over a dozen elected officials and other people as well. We ran into him earlier.” 

Steve continued to stare down at the floor, his face in a distant frown. 

“What does that have to do with Steve? What happened?” you asked eagerly. 

“We just found out that this so called Winter Soldier is actually Steve’s best friend, Bucky Barnes.” 

Your eyes widened. You were so confused. Steve never mentioned anyone else in his life except for his mother and father. He always told you he was on the lonely side, but…he had a best friend apparently. An old best friend from over seventy years ago. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” you chided, furrowing your brows at Steve. How could he have not told you? You and he told each other everything. 

“Bucky Barnes was considered KIA in 1942 when he fell off a locomotive during a mission to capture the evil scientist Arnim Zola.” Sam informed as he reloaded his pistol. 

“And now, he’s alive. And brainwashed, completely wiped of his memories of Steve.” Natasha finished, taking a sip of the glass of orange juice you poured her a few minutes ago. 

You felt your chest ache. 

Why couldn’t Steve feel like he could tell you about Barnes? You guys were so much closer than the average friends. 

You turned back to Steve, only to find him on the couch with his face buried in his hands. His breaths coming out in short huffs. 

You made your way over to the blond, bending down until you were eye level with him. He looked so broken, yet you had no idea what he was going through. You’ve never lost anyone before. You had no idea who this Winter Soldier was, but if it meant reconnecting two old friends, you were more than wiling to help Steve. 

You gently pulled Steve’s hands from his hair and brought them down, revealing his tear stained face. You smiled up at him, hope shining in your eyes. 

“Whoever this Bucky guy is,” you began, looking down at your entwined hands. “He must be a special kind of man for you to go these lengths. We’ll get your friend back, Steve. If it’s the last thing we do.” 

Steve felt his heart shattering even more as you spoke. Nevertheless, he offered you a false smile, hoping to distract you from the internal pain he was facing. To his relief, you bought it. 

He watched as you went back to Natasha and began placing the bandages onto her wound, your face set in a concerned frown. 

‘Oh, Y/N’ he thought to himself. 

‘If you only knew the truth.’ 


- Fin!  ❤️

Tag list of super awesome people! 

@sebbylover24 @softwintersoldier @amrita31199 @jezzula @jenna-luke @harrisbn @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @ballerinafairyprincess @gingerbatchwife @callmeoncette @bellaballanda @sebbyismyking @abigailredgrave @chou-maitresse @twinklingstarlight @abovethesmokestacks @dracu-ma-bucky @persephone-is-here-omg @i-write-tragedies-and-sins @melconnor2007 @nenyakj @watergirl1996 @marveloussssworld @ihavetwobuckystomyname @megandrawsspace @wintersoldieressiam @fridabarnes @abovethesmokestacks @mizzzpink @diana-daydreamer @meganlane84 @adrianabribiescacortes @r3stl3ss-minds @queen–valeskaxx @winterboobaer @addictivewriter @tatortot2701 @supersoldier-buckybarnes @the-winter-avengerrrrr @the-witching-hours12-3 @netflixa @kaitskennedyy @witheringblooddemon  @lostinspace33 @nottheopera @beebossinner @ktrivia @4theluvofall @the-lazy-leprechaun @behindthesehazeleyes27 @38leticia @davinaciaire @cry-me-a-fkin-river @buckyshattergirl @raeintheusa @helloitsgrc @icedragoncred1763 @sebbeanstan @shieldagentofthemonth @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @sheriwallace123 @permanent-lines @hellstempermentalangel @answer-the-sirens @badassbaker @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @therealgoldenbookworm @buckyappreciationsociety @dream-equine @munsurieya @feelmyroarrrr @learisa @stephie-senpai @vindictivegrace @valynsia @saffreelove @say-my-name-assbut @feelthemusicfuckwhatheyresaying @alucialunn12 @bad-wolf87 @such-a-common-girl @yknott81 @frolicsomefawkes @svetlanaabril @hellahornyvirgin @mirkwood—princess @amour-quinn @tirednwired05 @obsessed-with-book-boyfriends @harleycativy @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons @deathordesire

Ok so I kind of lost my tag list thingy so if I didn’t tag you on the list pls let me know or if i tagged you on the wrong fic, pls also let me know!

Tags are open for this series!

Intro

the evolution of adam and ronan (bold is faves)
  • Last week, he and Adam had taken turns dragging each other on a moving dolly behind the BMW, and they both still had the marks to show it
  • Gansey had once told Adam that he was afraid most people didnt know how to handle Ronan. What he meant by this was that he was worried that one day someone would fall on Ronan and cut themselves. 
  • “Do you think it makes me look tougher?” Ronan said, “It makes you look like a loser.”
  • “You’re a Neanderthal.” “Sometimes you sound just like Gansey,” Ronan said. “Sometimes you don’t.” Noah laughed his breathy, nearly soundless laugh. Ronan spit on the ground beside the BMW. “I didn’t realize that ‘midget’ was the Adam Parrish type.” he said. 
  • Two years earlier, Adam had made his decision to come to Aglionby, and, in his head, it was sort of because of Ronan…even the way the other boy had moved, Adam recalled, had struck him: confident and careless, shoulders rolled back, chin tilted, an emperor’s son…He’d never wanted to be someone else so badly. In his head, that boy was Ronan.
  • “I’m always straight.” Adam replied, “Oh, man, that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

Keep reading

Prompts List

List of prompts that can be requested (w/ or w/o a requested person/character) - [most of these are prompts I found on pinterest in the writing prompts tag - will be adding prompts continuously] - Also, when requesting please take this into consideration: https://fictionpants.tumblr.com/post/167397538527/just-a-quick-note-about-requests

1. “I apologise in advance for the inconvenience my murder is going to have on your life.”

2. “I hate you.”
“Why? I’m lovely.”

3. “Murder wasn’t on today’s agenda.”
“It’s not on anyone’s.”
“No, it’s on mine, just not until next Thursday.”

4. “Hold on, you died.”
“Yeah, well it didn’t stick.”

5. “This is my life now. I have climbed this hill and now I will die upon it.”
“Shut up. We’ve only been hiking for twenty minutes.”

6. “She’s crying, what do I do?”
“Go comfort her.”
“How do I do that?”
“Start with hugs.”
“With what?”

7. “What’s our exit strategy?”
“Our what?”
“Oh my god, we’re all going to die.”

8. “I’m going to need chicken blood, salt, five candles, and a bottle of vodka.” “Vodka? For the spell?”
“No, that’s just to make me feel better about ripping a hole in the universe.”

9. “Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying?”
“I don’t know, probably both.”

10. “I saved your lives.”
“How? By stealing our freedom? Our minds? Our identity?”

11. “It takes a very special kind of idiot to pull off what you just did.”

12. “I’m getting really tired of pretending I’m not evil.”

13. “Did you just agree with me?”
“Oh I wish I could take-”
“Nope! You said it! No take-backs!”

14. “It’s a long story.”
“You conned me into thinking you were dead for eleven months. I have time.”

15. “I regret a lot of things. Having this conversation tops the list.”

16. “I had a thought.”
“Oh no.”
“I swear it’s a good one this time!’

17. “FBI, open the door!”
“No. It’s cooler when you break in.”

18. “Do you think they remember you?”
“I sure hope not after what I did the last time I was here.”
“What did you do?”
“You’ll find out.”

19. “You look…”
“Beautiful, I know. Can we move on?”

20. “You scared me!”
“Well, I am naturally terrifying.”

21. “I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.”

22. “I’d take a bullet for you, you know that.”
“You’re immortal, and I’m going to kill you if you keep saying that.”

23. “You really have no clue who I am?”
“You’d think the confused looks and blank stare would have answered that for you.”

24. “I am way too sober for this.”

25. “You don’t strike me as a professional criminal.”
“That’s what makes me so good at it.”

26. “I don’t think of you as a protector. More like a distraction.”

27. “We have five people trying to kill us right now, what are we supposed to do?”
“Actually, it’s more like eight.”
“Oh, sorry I wasn’t specific enough!”

28. “If you could even comprehend where I’ve come from, you would be terrified of me.”

29. “I saved your life!”
“You pushed me off a building.”

30. “You know we’re not all born with the ability to throw fireballs, right?”

31. “How do we keep getting into these situations?”
“Eleven years of friendship and I still don’t know.”

32. “Did you hear that scream?”
“Yes, I’m the one who screamed.”

33. “Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?”
“Yes.”
“What if I just break his nose a little?”

34. “You are remarkably well behaved tonight. What did you do?”

35. “You’re-you’re crushing my spleen.”
“You don’t even know where your spleen is.”

36. “I’m no detective, of course, but I think this dead body might not be alive anymore.”

37. “Right now, I don’t know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge.”
“Can I pick?”

38. “The real treasure was the memories we made along the way.”
“I almost died!”
“Ah yes, that was my fondest memory.”

39. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you!”
“And I’m trying to subtly avoid it!”

40. “Hey, I didn’t kill anyone today!”
“What do you want? A gold star?”

41. “I hate you.”
“Why? I’m lovely.”

42. “On a scale from one to ten, how bad do you think it would be if-”
“At least a twenty.”

43. “Literally everything about this is illegal.”

44. “Seven billion people in the world, and you’re overreacting because we killed one man.”
“But-”
“Seven. Billion. People. Now quit the complaining and drink your smoothie.”

45. “It’s not my birthday.”
“It’s definitely your birthday.”
“Give me a calendar. It’s not and I will prove it to – oh. Never mind. Happy birthday to me.”

46. “On a scale from one to ten, how bad do you want to kill me right now?”
“I’m hovering somewhere in the high thirties.”

47. “I can fix that.”
“I’m calling a professional.”
“I’m a professional.”
“A more professional, professional.”

48. “What’s the word for that infestation of tiny creatures over there?”
“Those are children. That’s a school.”

49. “I have a concern.”
“Just one?”
“No, but I didn’t think you’d let me speak my piece if I told you how many I actually have.”

50. “Why are you glaring at me?”
“I’m hoping you’ll spontaneously combust.”

51. “If we die, I’m going to spend the rest of our afterlife reminding you that this was all your fault.”
“That’s cool, I wouldn’t mind having company while being a ghost.”

52. “What are you so afraid of?”
“You.”

53. “What is that THING in your backpack?”
“It’s my new pet dragon.”
“Dragons aren’t real!”
“Then why is there one in my backpack?”

54. “I hate the sight of blood.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t kill for a living.”

55. “All that blood looks good on you. It really brings out your eyes.”

56. “Want to see what kind of trouble we can get into?”
“Oh god, we’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“It’s a Tuesday, I know how to restrain myself.”
“You absolutely do not.”

57. “I don’t give a damn.”
“You give so many damns they’re visible from SPACE.”

58.  “It’ll be easy. You just have to seduce them.”
“You’re kidding, right? I’m about as seductive as a cabbage.”

59. “You’re not as evil as people think you are.”
“No. I’m much worse.”

60. “That’s a terrifyingly accurate drawing of us.”
“It’s almost like I’m good at what I do.”

61. “You have no power over me.”
“You sure about that?”

62. “This isn’t good.”
“How can you tell?”
“See how they’re slowly surrounding us? And they all have guns and knives and I think one guy is carrying a machete?”

63. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”
“Actually he’s right in front of you.”

64. “I’m not a thief. I’m just really good at acquiring things that aren’t mine.”

65. “I’m not completely human anymore. Remember that next time you want to punch me in the face.”

66. “Is that blood?”
“No?”
“That’s not a question you’re supposed to answer with another question.”

67. “I never stood a chance, did I?”
“That’s the sad part – you did once.”

68. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

69. “I’m not going to leave you.”

70. “Everything is okay.”

71. “I’m going to protect you.”

72. “I believe in you.”

73. “Do you feel guilty? Like, at all?”
“I don’t have time to feel guilty. And neither do you.”

74. “Stop that!”
“Stop what?”
“Doing that thing with your face when you’re happy. It’s making me nauseous.”

75. “What are you doing?”
“…Eating.”
“We’re being held hostage and you decide to raid the kitchen?”
“They didn’t say the fridge was off limits.”

76. “Is that a dead body?”
“Maybe?”
“It is. I can see it right in front of me.”
“I promise I’ll clean it up before dinner.”

77. “If we’re going to get out of here, we’re going to have to work together. After that, we can go back to killing each other.”
“Oh, fine.”

78. “That’s not funny.”
“I thought it was.”
“You don’t count. You started laughing in the middle of a funeral because you started thinking of a meme you saw on Facebook.”

79. “Do we need wine?”
“No, I need wine, you need to put your pants back on.”
“But life is so freeing without them.”
“Pants. On. Now.”

80. “Can you please go be stupid somewhere that’s away from me?”

81. “I feel like I’m being stabbed.”
“How do you even know what it feels like to be stabbed?”

82. “Will you be quiet?”
“I didn’t say anything!”
“Well stop thinking so loud.”

83. “Did you get my note?”
“Of course I got it. You taped it to my forehead while I was sleeping.”

84. “You’re a psychopath.”
“I prefer creative.”

85. “Why do people keep trying to put this blanket on me?”
“Because you’re in shock.”
“That doesn’t mean I need a blanket. It means I need booze.”

86. “Oh no.”
“What is it? What happened? Who died?”
“I think I just felt an emotion.”
“You have GOT to be kidding me.”

87. “When all this is over, I want my sanity back.”

88. “That’s definitely not true.”
“Of course it is. I read it on Wikipedia.”

89. “You forgot me.”
“It was an accident.”

90. “Why do you keep risking your life? To prove a point?”
“Yes.”

91. “I would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties of your life.”
“You are the WORST at this comfort thing.”

92. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”
“What?”
“Saying things that make me want to kiss you.”

93. “Look, if you want to conjure some demon spawn from the great beyond, that’s all fine and dandy. Just wait for me to leave before you start.”

94. “Just calm down!”
“My leg just dematerialised and you want me to calm down!?”

95. “You know what they say, panicking burns a shit ton of calories.”
“Who even says that?”
“Me. Just now.”

96. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just be in the corner, having another existential crisis.”

97. “Oh my god, I had the exact same dream!”
“Really?”
“Are you crazy? Of course I didn’t.”

98. “I need to go de-stress.”
“Where are you going?”
“To demolish the living room.”

99. “I think I’m having a feeling. How do I make it stop?”

100. “I’m bitter and complicated. It’s one of my charms.”
“I don’t think you know what that word means. Or how to count.”

101. “I don’t know what the protocol is for revealing your secret identity so, hi? Surprise?”

102. You always think you know what you’d do when faced with the end of the world. Me? I went home and took a nap.

103. “Damn it, why aren’t you obeying the laws of physics?”

104. “I’d hug you right now, but you’re covered in evidence. And I also really don’t want to.”
“Evidence is a really nice euphemism for blood, gore and guts.”
“You’re totally missing the point. Do you know how pissed I am at you right now?”

105.  “This way is more efficient.”
“This way is going to get us killed.”

106. “You’re not my favourite person today.”
“I’m not your favourite person on any day.”

pretty please

♡ smut

masterlist 

// harry really likes to make y/n watch him touch himself

-

His eyes are closed, just like his fist around his cock. He pumps up and down, occasionally brushing his thumb over his wet tip. A low moan left his parted pink lips and y/n couldn’t help but follow suit. She tries to pry her wrists apart from the fabric holding them together, however Harry’s knot tying skills seemed to be no match for her. Y/n’s knees begin to hurt as she’s been kneeling and patiently watching Harry pleasure himself for so long. Was this punishment? Harry hadn’t said it was. Y/n also hadn’t done anything wrong- at least she thinks she hasn’t. Perhaps Harry just likes watching his babygirl beg for him. He knows how much y/n loves his cock. He knows she’d do anything to wrap her pretty little mouth around his shaft. “Daddy, please,” she finally whispers.

Harry only chuckles. “Oh kitten, I think you can do better than that.” He continues to move his hand up and down himself, only faster this time. His head falls back and his craving for y/n intensifies. He needs her to beg. He bucks his hips up and grumbles, “Fuck babygirl, you feel so good. so good around me.”

Y/n lets a cry come out as the wetness between her legs grows with each pump of Harry’s cock. “Daddy, please. Pretty please let me touch you, I need you.” She bites her lip and prays that it’s enough for Harry to comply.

“Daddy touchin himself making yeh wet, kitten?” A smirk curls onto Harry’s lips while he walks over to y/n. He stands so close to her but not close enough. Harry tugs at his cock some more, careful not to over do it. “Fucking beg for it, beg for my cock, babygirl.” Y/n shakes her head, unable to find her voice. She tries to speak but she can’t. The muscles in Harry’s forearm working so hard are too much of a distraction to even form a sound. She gives up, reaching and stretching to put her mouth on Harry’s tip.“Now love, what did I say ‘bout that, hmm?” He taps himself on her lips before he pulls away. “I need to hear yeh, baby girl.”

She moans. Y/n moans so loudly, just the idea of Harry sliding into her, fulfilling her needs is almost enough to make her come. “Please, daddy. I just wanna taste.” She pouts and oh, does she try to steal Harry with her puppy dog eyes. Harry wishes he could continue, God does he love being begged for. However y/n’s moan in particular set him off- he wants y/n to make him come. Too many times has his tired old hand have to do it when the two of them are apart. Harry gestures for y/n to get closer. She scoots over on her knees and Harry grants her permission with a nod as she looks up at him. Y/n wraps her lips around his tip and she moans against him. She bobs her head and Harry presses his hand to the back of her head to push her down further. Y/n coughs around him, gagging at the pressure. Her eyes begin to water and Harry let’s her go.

“Good girl,” Harry praises. Y/n lulls her head around him, sucking gently. She receives a low hiss from Harry when she licks from the bottom of his cock all the way up to the tip. She places a kiss on his swollen tip, and Harry let’s out a moan much louder than he wanted to. “Fuck, pet, you’re gonna make daddy come,” Harry admits. Y/n continues with her movements, trying her best to take all of him but she can’t without Harry’s help. Her core is aching as she’s been denied pleasure this whole night. Harry gets so worked up just hearing y/n beg for him. He likes to know he’s wanted but God, does he love when he gets to make her feel good. Oh, how he loves to see her writhe under him as he pounds into her. She was being such a good girl, so patient and obedient for Harry. He thinks her core must be burning, begging to be touched. Harry could practically see her dripping down her thighs. “Want daddy to come in you, kitten?” Harry finally asks.

Y/n nods. She nods rapidly. She wants to ask to be untied but Harry is finally about to give her what she wants so she doesn’t want to push it. Harry tells y/n to get up and turn around. He graciously unties her wrists and brings both up to his lips, kissing them gently- however y/n thought the black ribbon was much nicer than handcuffs or rope. “Lay down on your back, love,” He commands her. Y/n does as she’s told and backs up to the headboard. Her legs spread open, giving Harry the best view of her wet core. Harry licks his lips, pumps his cock through his hand a few times and kneels down on the bed in front of her. “Daddy’s gonna make yeh feel real, good,” he says. He slowly slides himself inside of y/n and she lets out an immediate moan at the contact. Her knees bend and Harry wraps both of his arms around her back, bringing her chest to his. Her neck falls to his sweaty shoulder, hair falling over his back. Harry grabs a fistful with his hand to bring y/n’s head up. “Look at me, babe. eyes open. Let me see how good I make you feel,” he demands. He thrashes into y/n, her lips part like the sea and Harry takes this opportunity to attack them. His lips devour hers, alternating between carnal kisses and rough tugs at the bottom lip. Y/n’s response is gratifying. When Harry knows he’s making y/n feel good, he feels good. His thrusts become messier as he nears his orgasm. “Fuck baby, you feel so good around me. Shit I’m gonna come,” Harry warns.

A hand- maybe it’s y/n’s, maybe it’s Harry’s- finds its way to y/n’s clit and begins to rub small circles. Y/n’s mind is fuzzy and she realizes it can’t be her own hand because one is grabbing onto Harry’s arm for support and the other is lost in his sweaty hair. Her whole body tenses up, her eyes are open but it’s like the only thing she can see are stars. Harry’s thrusts are so sloppy at this point that he lays himself down and brings y/n with him, only she’s sitting in his lap. “C’mon, kitten, don’t make daddy do all the work,” he sighs.

Y/n’s works herself up and down Harry’s cock, taking him all the way. Even though she’s so close to coming, she still finds enough strength to keep her movements at a quick pace. Harry props himself on his elbows so he can see y/n’s breasts bounce with each movement she makes. “Daddy I’m gonna come,” she tells Harry. Her hand works its way up to one of her breasts and the other rakes through her hair, pushing it out of her face so Harry can see her. His eyes grow wide before they squeeze shut.

“Daddy’s gonna come too, kitten. Come for me,” Harry encourages. He takes to y/n’s clit again and that’s what sends her over the edge. Both of her hands press against his chest as her head falls past his shoulder. She screams out, spews Harry’s name a few times and she’s sure the neighbors had heard the last one. Her eyes stay shut as Harry takes over the movements, slowly thrusting in and out of her. Harry comes not long after y/n- in fact they were right on top of each other. “Mm, love, you always make me feel so good,” he praises her.

Y/n crawls off of Harry and lays next to him on the bed. The sheets are an absolute mess but God knows neither of them have the energy to change them. Y/n turns to Harry and she leaves small and tender kisses all over Harry’s sheen skin. “Hmm,” she begins. “I…love… you… so… much…” y/n concludes. A kiss was left on Harry’s arm in between each word. His arm finds it’s way around y/n’s neck and he presses and kiss to her temple. He tells her they should go to sleep but he also tells her that there’s a new episode of Big Brother that he’s been dying to watch. So, instead of sleeping, Harry and y/n finish their night with Big Brother and maybe a little more sex…


fin.


[authors note • lord have mercy on me please…. i have this one fluffy imagine written and it’s literally just about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches so idk if i should post it lol. thank you for reading!!] 

Delta (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Pt. 5  A/B/O

A/N: WOW. So here it is y’all (; part 5! I may or may not have gotten carried away a little, but that’s what happens when i write a/b/o fics lol. I hope y’all like  it! ENJOY! - Delilah (-:

Warnings: Heavy sexual content. M/F. Swearing. Daddy Kink. Angst. NSFW. (If you’re uncomfortable with this, keep scrolling.)

Series Masterlist

Keep reading