on your feet or on your knees

How dare you stand there on the shore with your feet in the water
and tell the mermaid she doesn’t understand its pull.
How dare you shed a single tear
over a toe in the same water
she learned to breathe in.
Months went by as she thrashed beneath the surface,
and you never so much as held out a hand.
Never pulled her water soaked body out from under the waves,
or dove below yourself in a fit of raging valiance.
No, you threw her overboard
and then stood and watched.
So how dare you stand ankle deep in this ocean
and tell her your feet are cold.
How dare you speak to her like she doesn’t understand,
like you’re some tragic martyr for getting wet sand on your flip flops.
She grew gills.
She grew gills,
and you haven’t even gotten your knees wet.
—  she grew gills // c.r.h.

Jaebum pulled up outside the bar, screeching the car to a halt and lunging out of the drivers’ seat to walk around the car towards the doorway. He found you, shivering in the cold night air, clutching your elbows around your knees as he bent down to meet you at eye level.

“You’re freezing” he mumbled as he quickly flung his coat around you, noticing the long, dried up rivers of mascara that your tears created on his way there. His heart clenched in his chest as he pulled you to your feet, quickly finding out that walking in 7 inch heels wasn’t going to work. He scooped you up - bridal style as he held you in close to his warm body, carrying you over to the car while the many onlookers whooped and whistled in jest at his apparent heroic actions.

“Ignore them” he whispered in your ear as he set you down to open the car door, helping you inside and buckling your seatbelt before shutting the door and joining you on the other side, putting the car into gear and setting off  in the direction of home.

“Are you mad at me?” you whimpered, looking at his hand resting on the gear stick as he shifted it to third gear.

“No” he paused, taking a deep breath and concentrating on the late Friday night traffic. “You just, scared me.”

“It’s not like I was going to die. Everyone gets drunk Jae” you sighed as you sank yourself down into the seat, watching him take the familiar turns and roads to your apartment.

“That’s not what I meant. I thought I’d lost you, (Y/N). You still don’t believe me, right?” he looked at you as he parked the car in front of your place, pulling the hand-break up and switching the engine off.

“I do believe you. I was just, angry.” you looked down to the car floor as more pitiful tears began threatening to fall down your cheeks. Jaebum clicked his tongue before ejecting both of your seatbelts, hopping out of the car and running around to help you out too, taking you in his arms once again after locking the car and carrying you up to your apartment. He used the spare key you gave him many months ago to let you both in, helping you remove your shoes before lifting you into your bedroom.

“Lets get all this muck of your face and then get a good nights sleep. You’re gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.” he gave you a sleepy smile, referring to your make-up as he pulled out your removal wipes from your vanity - diligently cleansing your face as gently as he could.

He stood up, motioning for you to put your arms in the air as he pulled your dress off you, un-doing your bra and removing his shirt to put it on you before taking off his jeans and rolling you on to your side in case you would vomit in the middle of the night. He snuggled up behind you, letting his hands place themselves on your hips as he pulled his body closer to you, finally being right where he wanted to be after all the mess that happened.


“What is it baby?”

“I’m sorry, I love you. So much”

He gently kissed your neck, pressing his lips flush against your skin and letting them linger there for longer than usual.

“I love you too. Close your eyes and go to sleep baby. I’m not going anywhere, so just sleep now”.

My favourite parts from A King Falls Christmas Story
  • Ben, are you singing at me?
  • Frickard’s not getting shit
                  FUCK YOU BEN!
  • Hersh, you’re singing??
            Does this mean I’m Gay??
            GET CLOSE
            GET CLOSE
    CLOSER STILL- no uh that’s too close Pete
            Too close
     You’re stepping on my feet!
  • …okay.
  • Put yo hands up in the aiiiiiIIIIIIIRRRRR 
  • Et tu Troy? 
             OHHH NOT BABY JESUS ?!
            OH FOR SHAME 
  • I keep my eye toward the sky in hopes of seeing you
  •  I’m down on my knees 
  • ~Ben?
  • Another year has passed
    I hasn’t been the best but hey at least it’s not my last! 
  • They say hope lies in dreams and that’s where Emily lies too 
  • Bad times are tough but not tougher than me! 
  • I’m going to get Emily and be the man she’s needs!!! 
  • Did you just sing at me?
          Well badly yes
Knight Without Honor

Word Count: 340 out of idk yet
Warnings: Death, Evil Stepmothers…, Princesses? I’m not good at these
Pairings: Bucky x Reader 
Summary: Royalty; It was in your blood. Your family had been ruling for generations. Your mother passed before she could birth a son, but your father remarried in hopes of having one more chance. Life is an adventure, especially when you’re a rebellious princess with an evil stepmother. 

Originally posted by kareynolds

Your dress swished around your ankles as you ran down the long corridor, your stepmother’s screams echoing off the walls around you, sending chills down your spine.

“Come back here! Come back here this instant!” She screeched, and you held your breath, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

But a yelp of surprise tore its way from your throat when you were sent flying to the floor, the material of your gown getting caught on your heel. The pain that bloomed in your knees and hands was enough to have tears clouding your vision.

The shrieking behind you grew louder and you scrambled to your feet, propelling yourself forward even though you were exhausted.

“Princess,” You heard someone whisper and your breath caught in your throat, “Princess!” And suddenly, there he was jogging toward you, always your knight in shining armor. His clothes were tattered and yellowing, his face matted with soot and dirt, but you still saw his beauty.

“Bucky,” you breathed, clinging to his arms to steady yourself.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at your stepmother’s next words, “I will find you, girl!”

You turned back to Bucky with wide, fearful eyes. He glared down the corridor before pulling you along.

“This way,” he said as he tugged you into the servants’ quarters, plunging the two of you into darkness. You blinked heavily to adjust to the lack of light, wondering if it was always this dark. “She won’t find you here,” he whispered to you, lips nearly grazing your ear.

“Bucky, don’t leave me, please.” You urged, frantically grabbing at his thin shirt.

He stilled your shaking hands by encasing them in his own, “I won’t leave you, I promise.”

He led you down the dark tunnel, guiding you this way and that, warning you of hidden stairs or holes in the floor.

“We must leave,” you panted, “I cannot stay here. She’ll kill me.”

“I won’t let that happen.” He grunted, eyes narrowing with determination before pulling you forward at a quicker pace.


You crouched in the corner of the chamber you had been locked in for the past six months, arms wrapped around your knees. The sounds of battle reached your ears dimly through the heavy door: men screaming, swords clashing, footsteps running. Closer and closer they came, until they stopped right in front of the door. The handle shook violently, and then the sound of someone slamming into the door made you scramble to your feet, looking around desperately for a weapon to defend yourself.

Crash! The door gave way and a man stepped in. Tall and bloodsoaked, an axe in his hand, he looked anything but merciful, and your heart sank. As he approached, you pressed your back against the wall and fell to your knees, shutting your eyes tightly. Please, let it be over quickly.

When seconds stretched on and nothing happened, you opened your eyes gingerly. The Viking’s axe was lowered, his free hand outstretched. Although his face was unreadable, there was a hint of kindness in his eyes, and you timidly reached out and took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. After months of imprisonment, even going with a Viking seemed better than what would happen if you stayed. 

I meant to add this to the author’s comments, but I’ll post them here now too:

Some strategies to use when having an anxiety attack:

1) Remind yourself that you are having an anxiety attack. Knowledge is power and understanding your body can go a long way…during an anxiety attack your “fight or flight” system is turned on. Remember that your body WILL calm down…~*homeostasis*~

 2) Belly-breathing. Breathe in through your nose, hold your breath, and breathe out through your mouth. Helps to bring down the “fight or flight” response and turn on the ~*MELLOW*~ response…both systems cannot be on at the same time! (for more scientific names, these systems are your sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems).

 3) Muscle tension exercises. Tense muscles around the body and hold it for 5 seconds, then release. Try it with your jaw, your fingers, hand, toes, feet, knee, stomach, etc…has same affect on the body as belly breathing. Also helps if you are having sensory overload, which means your body is taking in too much sensory info…you might crave pressure or the absence of certain stimuli like touch.

 4) Visualization techniques. Imagine yourself somewhere calm and add sensory details. Immerse yourself in this scene. For example, you are at a beach, you can feel the grainy sand crunch beneath your feet. The waves hitting up against the shoreline, coming up, going back down.

 What to do when someone is having an anxiety attack:

1) Remember that what is happening to this person is out of their control. Their muscle spasms, hyperventilating, screaming, repetitive speech, rocking…it is not something they can control and in fact for some people, these can be coping mechanisms. Remember that anxiety is a brain thing.

 2) Use limited language with the person. When anxiety is up, it is hard to process information. Use visual cues and body language to communicate.

 3) Be present for them. A person having anxiety is going to have more anxiety that you are witnessing them having the anxiety…let them know that you are not leaving them and that you do not judge them.

 4) Understand that mental illness in general is complicated…this person is a person and should not be reduced to “being crazy”…because they are NOT crazy. Everyone is different, with different backgrounds and biology: practice empathy and reduce judgement.

Prompt 94- Marauders Era: Sirius

Request:  Could you do number 94 with Sirius, please? :D

  • 94. “It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.” 

The day is bright, the happy chirp of birds filling the warm air, along with the flutter of butterflies’ wings and the crackle of thin tree branches snapping under the hopping feet of cheerful rabbits. The roots of a willow tree surround the folded legs of Y/N, her knees resting on them, supporting an open book. 

“You know,” the sudden appearance of a familiar voice prompts her to turn around to face Sirius Black, leaning against her tree and looking out at the lake, a cheeky smile on his face, “I just realised screw rhymes with me and you.” He averts his gaze from the river and meets her eye, biting his tongue lightly as he gives her a wink.

“See, I just realised that it must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

Her response earns raised eyebrows from the boy, his smirk never fading as he stretches out a hand. She rolls her eyes, fighting an obvious smile on her pretty face as she closes the book on her lap with a thud, placing it under her left arm and extending her right to grab his. He pulls her upwards forcefully, face to face with him a moment later, placing a soft kiss on his lips, feeling them pull into a smile against hers before they pull apart and she sticks her tongue out at him as he throws a long arm around her shoulder and gives her the smile she so adores. 

A strange encounter (Part one~)

 You run into the shop, shoving the doors open, screaming “I need a donut” The you fall over on your knees, red in the face, and panting like a dog. You stayed there for a minute catching your breath before finally looking up. There was four extremely hot guys and one girl sitting at a table and all of them were staring at you. You looked down embarrassed before getting back on your feet.

 You whip your hair out of your face and strut up to the counter like your life depended on it. You chuckle and put on a charming smile at the clerk. She raised an eyebrow,”A donut, I presume?” You laugh and lean up against the counter.

 “Yeah, sorry about that. My sisters pregnant and-” You break into a guffaws of laughter, tears streaming down your face. You hold up a hand. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ve been hanging out with hormonal woman too much lately. Anyways,” You continue, wiping your tears and wispy hair away, “I just need a donut for my prego sister. She said shed kill me if I didn’t get her one.” You giggle. “Give me the biggest most frosted one you’ve got!” You hold up a five.

 In return she handed you a donut, which was very big and very frosted. Then you turned to walk out completely forgetting about the four guys and girl sitting there. Then you noticed them staring at you the red head and blonde stifling their giggles as the girl shouted at them for laughing. You were blushing, there was no doubt about it.

 “Ay crazy good luck with your sister!” The red head hollered.

 “Seven!”The rest groaned.

 “Hey, well you try living with a crazy pregnant woman!”You yell before running out the shop doors.


In Defense of Kent Parson

You’re 15 and the world is at your feet. You do everything together, including win. You’re never apart and the kisses are as illicit as the beer you swig on the porch and they’re just as sweet.

You’re 17 and he doesn’t smile the way he used to except when you’re slamming into him after a goal. You win the cup and even then he doesn’t smile. When you ask him if he’s okay he doesn’t reply, simply sliding to his knees between your legs in your creaky billet apartment.

You’re 18 and he’s on the floor not breathing and you don’t know how you failed this badly at the things that really matter.

You’re 18 and they call your name first and you’re trying to remember to smile. It never should have been you and you’re sure they can see it written all over your face as you pretend you’re happy to be there.

You’re 18 and he still hasn’t called.

You’re 20 and you’ve won the only cup that really matters, but it still rings hollow because he’s not beside you. The years have perfected the smile that says nothing as you step in front of the cameras. You know the bartender knows you’re underage, but he still takes your money so you still drink.

You’re 22 and you have a cat and the captaincy. One is good for you, but you’re not sure about the other. You’ve started seeing a therapist at the gentle suggestion of a teammate and you’ve stopped drinking. You don’t think about him as much.

You’re 23 and you’re coming to terms with the fact that just because he had it worse doesn’t mean you can’t still hurt. He’s talking to you again, sort of, but you know you’re getting his media face so you don’t really bother. You’ve learned the benefit of not picking at the scab covering that particular wound.

You’re 24 and you tell him you miss him and he slams the door in your face.

You’re 24 and he has a cute little blonde boyfriend who is everything you’re not and you try not to be bitter. You may have won, but he gained a life instead. You talk to your therapist about how hot the jealousy burns and she tells you it’s okay to be angry. ‘It should have been me’ you tell her, but you’re less and less sure it’s true.

You’re 25 and he’s playing his first professional game. There are lines around his eyes that you don’t recognize, but you do know the smile. It’s real, and you’ve never been more thankful.

You’re 25, staring at him across the face off dot for the first time since you were children. Afterwards they ask you what it felt like and you tell them 'like old times’. Later that night you realize you don’t want the old times back.

You’re 25 and there’s a cat on your lap, and two friends beside you and he’s sitting in the chair across from you with his cute little blonde boyfriend when two things hit you at once. You will always love him, but it’s okay to move on.

You’re 25 and you do.

Something About A Promise - Snippet

A couple of things: One, to avoid confusion, this is taken from the very first installment in the series, whereas ‘Something About Hacks’–which is now being changed to ‘Something About a Hack’–comes later on. 

Two, this is my first take on writing accents, so please be kind. 

Warning: Annoyed!Harry. And half-naked!Harry. And drunk!Niall.

“B-Babe, want to hear a-a joke?” You’ve managed to flip over and crawl onto your knees, the world still spinning far too fast to get back up on your feet.

“Not particularly.”

Harry was many things, and calm, cool and collected were a few of them. But it was today, at two in the morning, standing half-naked in his kitchen with two drunk guests, he was losing patience quick.

“W-What’s the difference between a—” You snicker, holding a single finger up to your lips as you try to collect yourself. “Okay. A-a G-spot and a golf ball.”

Harry side-eyes Niall who has his hand covering his mouth, waiting in anticipation of the punchline he more than likely had told you earlier in the evening.

“A guy will actually s-search for a golf ba—” You don’t have the chance to finish before you’re succumbed to such laughter that not much noise has the chance to escape your mouth.

He had to admit, it did send the corners of his lips to lift for a moment.

“Niall, how did you get here?” Harry glances at Niall who has joined you in a mess of giggles, his entire body using the counter as support. “Niall.”

“A car.” He snickers. “How else?”

A smartass and a comedian are what he’s dealing with tonight apparently.

“Tell me you didn’t fucking drive.” He looks back down at you for an answer, but he’s only met with your arm stuck awkwardly inside your dress. Before he has a chance to question your antics, you swiftly remove your bra from your attire with an achieved grin. “Babe, no—”

“I’m freee,” you sing, throwing the bra in the direction of your shoes as Niall can only stare in awe.

“’Right, ‘M’taking her to bed. Niall, did someone drive you?”

He’s reaching the end of his patience, and the mere thought of Niall behind the wheel of the car, as intoxicated as the both of you are, with you sitting passenger, only adds fuel to the fire.

“M’man Rupert. He—uh, he’s somewhere.” Niall finally responds, tugging a hand through his hair.

Harry definitely doesn’t have the patience tonight.

“Mate, is he outside?”

“Love, love! W-what’s the difference between anal sex and oral sex?” A small voice chirps up below him.

Harry closes his eyes and prays he finds the patience to get through the next few minutes of this ordeal.

“Y-yeah, he’s outside.”

“Then go, Niall. I can’t deal with both of y’drunk asses right now.”

“Oral sex makes your day. A-and anal sex makes your hole weak.” You’ve lost yourself in another mute fit of giggles.

“A-and where’s m’thank you for bringin’ yer girlfriend back unharmed, huh?” Niall looks at Harry with large eyes, seeming to be intimidating. The only thing that crosses Harry’s mind is he resembles a deer caught in headlights.

“Thank you. Now, go home, mate. Y’drunk.”

“Funny.” Niall responds, folding his arms across his chest. “If y’can’t tell, she had more than me, and I’m not the one undressing on yer kitchen floor.”

Harry’s attention is brought back down below him as he catches you struggles to remove the second strap of your dress, one already managed to break free.

He’s instantly hunching over, pulling the strap back up and standing you back on your feet, not removing his hand placed firmly along your backside.

“I don’t feel good.” You mutter quietly, your entire body breaking out into a cold sweat.

“Niall—” It’s a single warning, and quickly understood.

“Okay, okay.” He goes to grab his jacket off one of the barstools, and pauses to glance over at your slumping body. “Mate, she doesn’t look good.”

Before anyone gets the chance to get another word in, your drinks of the night make a return onto the ceramic tiles, and Harry can only stare up at Niall with enough irritation that left him leaving without another word.

The Night He Stayed Over


He rang the doorbell and there were two things you could do in that moment; ignore it or open the door.

Despite your protest, despite your better judgement, despite your conscious; you opened the door.

There he was standing on your front door in his black jeans ripped at his thigh and knees with his oversized sweaters. He stared straight into your eyes and your confidence faltered slightly at his intense eyes. You held the door, leaving only a few inches opened and you noticed his feet moving closer and when you didn’t open. He stared back into your eyes not even saying a word. “What do you want?” you finally asked.

“Are you going to wear that on our date?”

“I’m not going.”

Keep reading

Dominate ur man

1. Make him strip naked while you keep your clothes on.
2. Have him kneel before you and kiss your feet.
3. Have him address you as ‘Mistress’
4. Have him kiss your ass… make him beg to kiss your ass.
5. Tie his hands and have him undress you with his mouth/teeth.
6. Don’t let him masturbate or touch his cock without your permission at any time.
7. Tie his hands behind his back. Have him kneel with knees spread naked in front of you while you read or watch TV, occasionally nudging his balls or penis with your shoes.
8. Either order him to stay erect, or don’t give him permission to have a hard on… either way, punish him if he fails!
9. Use some strong string (kite string), tie a slip noose in the end and tighten it around the head of the penis, tug on it, pull it shake it, lead him with it, whatever you please.
10. Show your slave your panty crotch, make him smell it, but no touching without permission.
11. Tie your slave spread eagle to the bed and tease him for hours. Make sure he has a big hard on, but once he does only touch it when he needs just a little more encouragement, don’t let him cum!
12. Put on his favourite lingerie and tease him with your feminine beauty.
13. Scratch him with your finger nails. Tickle him. Pinch his nipples.
14. Sit on his chest and find out what he would do to be allowed to kiss your nipple. Let him almost kiss it but pull away, make him beg.
15. Take a break, put some worn panties over his face and leave the room for a while and let him think about what else you might do.
16. Squat above his face, make him reach with his tongue to taste the crotch of your panties…get more promises
17. Blindfold him and make him lick you to several orgasms. Take a break, cum back and do it all again.
18. Rub his face against your pussy or sit on his face, but gag him with your panties or a gag so that he can’t lick you.
19. Tie his balls off to something behind him so he has to tug on them to smell your panties or kiss your ass…stay just out of reach.
20. Masturbate in front of him. Use a dildo or a vibrator. Be vocal.
21. Put the base of the dildo in his mouth and make him satisfy you with it. Do it so his nose presses between your ass cheeks. He’ll be your little brown-noser and love it… Make him lick the dildo clean.
22. Tie him down to the bed and tie his hands to his penis but do not give him permission to cum with harsh punishments for disobedience.
23. Put your worn panties over his head so he can smell your odor.
24. Make him wear a cock ring (a watch strap or cat collar works well in a pinch, even a zip tie, but be careful not to cut off circulation)