playing with her fingers in the first image

Unfaithful: Naive (Bill Skarsgård)


He had more than enough to drink.

His vision switched between normal and disoriented, he walked with a slight wobble in his step and he could not keep the drunken smile off his face.

Alex had just left with a redhead he had met that night. He said goodbye to Bill and checked to make sure his brother would be able to get home safely, to which the younger Skarsgård assured him was no issue; his shared apartment was only three blocks away.

“Double whiskey.” He said to the bartender.

The bald man nodded and began to fix his drink.

It was then that a woman around his age slid into the seat beside him. She was tall for a female, had sterling grey eyes, champagne blonde hair and wore a dark smokey eye.

Bill looked at the woman and gave her a small smile, causing her to smirk in response.

“You’re here alone?” She wondered.

He nodded, “My brother just left.”

The barman set the glass of whiskey in front of Bill before turning to fix someone else’s drinks.

She twirled the ends of her wavy, long locks and stared into his eyes, giving him the sexy smolder she had perfected over the years. “What do you say to heading somewhere too?” She pressed.

“Like?” He asked stupidly; completely wasted.

His ignorance only made her smile grow wider, “Let’s start with the bathroom.”

She stood and took his large hand in hers, pulled him off his chair and led him to the single stall restroom. He stumbled along behind her, long legs unable to function like usual.

The blonde took him into the nearest bathroom and quickly shut the door behind them. She pushed him against the wall and captured his lips roughly. He kissed her back with the same amount of passion.

Then he straightened, becoming taller than her, and lost her lips. She gave him an annoyed look, one he could not fully comprehend due to his intoxicated state.

“I have a girlfriend.” He slurred.

She quirked a brow before putting a hand on him, rubbing her smooth fingers over fabric of his black trousers. “She can’t fuck you like I can.” She promised.

The image of his lover slowly disappeared from his mind, it took too much effort to even see it in the first place. He caved.

“And how would you?” He countered, breathing beginning to rise by her actions.

She pretended to think, he was just really too easy to play with.

“I’m going to give you a blow job. Then, I’ll let you fuck me from behind against this wall.” She slapped her hand against the cold tile near his face, holding it there and leaning closer to him. “I want you to be as rough as you can be. Does she let you fuck her roughly? Would she let you take her mercilessly?” She wondered, gaze fixed nowhere but his pale eyes which darkened by the second.

“No, not always anyways. She’s not like that.” He answered, almost groaning at the way she was touching him.

She smirked, “Then let me help you.”

His gaze did not leave hers as she unzipped his pants and knelt down in front of him. Her eyes were gleaming as she took him in her mouth, causing his head to loll back against the subway tiled wall.

“Fuck.” He swore, taking a hold of her hair and guiding her deeper.

It felt good; he was enjoying her pleasuring him.

He shut his eyes and gave himself to her.

She did not want to tell her friend about what had happened, she would only begin to cry if she did.

She did not want to cry, especially not over him.

So after greeting and thanking her friend for letting her stay for however long she needed, she let herself into the guest bedroom.

She was tired, so very tired. Exhaustion took over her whole body, causing her to flop down on the bed the second she peeled off all of her clothes. Today, she was going to have a nice, deep sleep; one that was not disturbed by wondering where her boyfriend was, if he was safe and when he would be coming home.

No, she was not going to deal with that.

The moment she let her lids fall shut, sleep overcame her welcomingly.

The hot water fell from the rainfall shower head, fogging up the usually transparent glass. The air was thick with humidity, which did not relieve her breathing one bit as her boyfriend went down on her.

Her back was pressed up against the once cool glass, now coated in a sheen of mist, and her free hand desperately attempted to grasp the wall.

She glanced down at him, eyes hazy yet lustful, and found that his eyes met hers, dark and passionate as he pleasured her. He wanted to watch her as she writhed under his touch, moaned his name and fought to keep standing even though her legs were on their way to shaking violently.

He slung her left leg over his shoulder, giving himself better access to her heat as he knelt in front of her. She clutched onto his shoulder for dear life, waiting a few moments to get used to the new and far more compromising position she stood in, then finally let go; leaning her head back against the warm glass and closing her eyes.

“Bill…” She moaned, melting in his touch.

He pleasured her for a few moments longer before pulling out, placing a kiss on her and then standing; hands running up her body as he did. Those large hands stopped at her breasts, cupping them, and her eyes dazed open. They were still cloudy with desire and exhaustion, which turned him on even more. Her eyes met is and they stood like that for a second, staring at each other, neither saying a single word. Her heart pounded at his closeness, breasts heaving more quickly, which he felt and smiled at; he could make her feel this way.

“I- I love you.” She said breathlessly, looking up at his towering figure.

He slid his hands from her breasts to her neck, up until he cradled her jaw with both hands. Her eyes watched him as he went, landing on his lips before he pressed them against hers.

“I love you.” He echoed back.

Suddenly, he bent down slightly, picked her up by her thighs, and moved to the other end of the large shower; water cascaded over their bodies.

The two lovers kissed feverishly under the hot water, hair slicked back and her hands holding onto his upper back tightly for support. They were in their own world entirely, nothing mattered but them, and they kissed as if it was their last night alive.

“I want you. All of you.” She moaned in between kisses.

“Mm. You’re all I need.” He responded, entering her immediately.

Her cries were muffled by his lips.

“All I need.” He swore to her, hips rolling against hers rapidly.

A particularly hard trust had her leaning into his chest, forehead resting against his and he took a hold of her hair, pulling her back. They looked into each other’s eyes while he took her deeply.

I know.“

She woke with a start.

The memory filled her with bitterness. Clearly, she did not know.

The ring of his mobile swept him from his thoughts.

It was ‘Dad’ as the screen indicated. Shit.

He reached for his phone and pressed ACCEPT. "Hey.” He answered quietly.

“Bill! Where are you both? Is the traffic bad?” Stellan asked enthusiastically, excited to see his son and his son’s partner at the party.

It was painful to hear someone sound so delighted to hear his voice. He felt like he deserved no love, no one to care for him. He surely did not care about her whilst the blonde was on the verge of making him come.

“No, Dad we uh- won’t be making it.” He said dejectedly.

His father caught onto his son’s depressed tone.

“What happened? Are things not well between you two?” He pressed lightly.

Bill’s breath hitched in his throat, emitting a strangled sound. No, things are very unwell, and it’s all my fault.

“I messed up, Dad. I really messed up.” He cried, tears welling in his pale eyes.

“Bill… what happened?” Stellan asked, heart breaking listening to his son’s voice. No father ever wanted their child to sound so upset and troubled.

It became clear to Bill that not only was he devastated that he had lost her, he was embarrassed; embarrassed that he could not treat her in the way she deserved to be treated. He had promised to love her forever.

He hiccuped before speaking:  "I cheated on her last night.“

He looked at the ashtray on the table to his right as he waited for his father to say something and saw the cigarette remains, another reminder of how he had failed her. It was all too much for him to handle.


“She started smoking again, Dad! She stopped a year ago and she was so goddamn happy about it. I drove her to do this again. I fucking did this to her!” He grieved.

It was in that moment he realized he could not stand to look at the cigarettes beside him. It was almost as if he could picture her: alone in the dark, rain pounding against the window, the cloud of grey smoke drifting through the room. He saw her eyes, hollow and lifeless, and her fingers, loosely holding the cigarette as she lifted it to her lips, devoid of all emotion. She did this over and over again until she grew too tired to even stand.

He grabbed the ashtray and strode to the kitchen, opened the cabinet under the sink and threw the tray into the garbage bin.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Bill. I am disappointed in you.” His father scolded, yet he sounded softer than he could have been.

He sunk to the floor, hand gripping his cellphone fiercely, and sniffed.

“I know.”

“Let her be for some while… I know this will be hard on you both. Give it time.” The older and much wiser Skarsgård told him.

Bill nodded, even though his father could not see him.

After ending the call, he ambled to their bedroom- her bedroom as it had just become again, and started to pack some clothes. He decided he would listen to his father and give her the space she needed, the space she deserved.

War allies

Pairing: T’Challa x Reader

Warnings: It’s sometimes sad, but overall cute. Mentions of torture.

Summary: After the events in the Leipzig airport, queen (Y/N) is taken to the Raft and tortued to say something about the whereabouts of Captain Rogers; she endures everything and even got rescued by a fellow monarch whom she knew from a life that she thought she would never get back to. Diplomacy is key.

A/N: Feedback is love.

Originally posted by miscellame

“What you did to them was not as cruel as what they did to you.”

It was the first thing (Y/N) typed down. She was home at last, and more or less safe and she firmly needed to believe her own words.

The medical team that took care of her told her that if she wasn’t keen on talking, she could probably write things down, let her memory and fingers do the job, but that was easier said than done; especially when her memory only played the same images again and again. She took a deep breath, feeling her chest inflate with the income and slowly exhaled everything away. The thoughts wandered in and out, and following her meditation teacher’s instructions, she tried not to make a whole story around them.

It all begun in Vienna. I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. But I did. I went there and I can’t change that. I was there only to hear what fat men wanted from people with powers; people like me. But I am not their property and I don’t want them to register me or mark me as something I am not. I am a queen, I am a ruler and I am powerful. I am graceful in what I do and god knows I am. I just wanted people to feel better, but their emotions turned confusing and I just couldn’t do that anymore.

By the end of her first stream of consciousness session, (Y/N) was already shaking and crying. She grabbed her head in her hands tightly, trying to shake away all the images that followed those inauspicious events. Leipzig, and then the Raft. She remembered hiding in the shadows, unbeknownst to everyone, as she toyed and manipulated their anger and their feelings of blind justice.

Captain Rogers had hidden friends outside the avengers, and she was a most appreciated one, so it was not a surprise when he told her to please help him out with a little something. He mentioned the dangers and the exposure, but he also explained how important it was for him to have his friend back and the accords not signed. (Y/N) understood that very well. The meaning of family and the promise of a free life.

Once she was there, hiding behind the structures, containers and trucks, she felt a familiar presence. But she could not recognize anybody; not their breathing and not her thoughts. She moved around like the shadows and with them, trying to remain unseen from everyone. But then the fight was over and the million tricks under her sleeve were gone and people were dragging her to a plane to throw her into a prison in the middle of the ocean. The Raft, they called it.

There she met her fellow inmates, the archer, the man that could shrink, the man with the wings and the woman with the mental abilities. She could not escape and she could not use her powers to feel less lonely. Little by little, she locked herself into her own mind, unwilling to maintain a conversation with anybody, and each passing day she seemed more and more unbreakable, even though she was tortured in several ways to get the information about Captain Rogers and his whereabouts. She knew and believed in the value of loyalty, even if it meant rotting in her cell.

She was about to give up on everything and everyone, but then she saw the light, or more like the light going off. Steve Rogers appeared, almost horrified by what happened to his dearest friends and allies. Cap’s team was taken to Wakanda, a nation she didn’t know she knew.

They were all welcomed by the king himself, a tall man of dark complexion; he irradiated authority and kindness, even though he saw before him the people that he once tried so hard to get rid of. (Y/N) felt even smaller next to him; being a queen herself, she knew in her heart that she wasn’t as good as he was. People around him smiled as they vowed their heads, but when her people passed by, they bowed their heads in fear.

King T’Challa was a very caring man, not only for his people, but for people he didn’t know too. He was in charge of all the attentions the newly arrived would have; from their bedrooms to the different recovery therapies they would be under. Each one of them different for each member.

The physical therapy was one thing, getting regular check-ups with the castle’s medical team, but then there were the therapy sessions that (Y/N) dreaded to attend. T’Challa was informed of this and of course he worried, he wanted everyone to be as mentally healthy as possible, even though he understood if it took a long time.

The king decided to ask (Y/N) why wasn’t she attending the sessions and if there was another thing she’d like to try so he could make the arrangements for it to be done, but before he could put the question into words, she had already disappeared.

The queen came back to her own palace, in the safety of her walls and the safety of her people. She still thought about T’Challa and the brief encounters they did happen to have. She couldn’t escape all day from him, and even though she never tried to, she still had little to no words to say to him other than answering his questions. Among those questions, there was the moment when he found out she was a queen also, a very young one; younger than him. Later he found out that his deceased father was once an ally with hers, and a light-bulb lighted up inside his mind.

“You got a letter, your highness.” One of the maidens said, carrying with her a golden envelope with the queen’s name on it. The queen didn’t pay much attention until the maid said where it came from.  “This comes from Wakanda.” (Y/N) turned her head to look at the envelope and reached out her hand for it to be handed to her.

“Thank you.” The queen bowed her head and smiled lightly, and the maid turned on her heels and left (Y/N) alone again with the pile of papers she still had to revise.

Ever since (Y/N) came back to her lands, everything was busier than ever. The world was now aware of her secret society and trying to get the press away from the limits was a terribly exhausting job. She was not very good at the social contact and she preferred not to do it anyway; she had people to take care of public relationships, but there was one thing she couldn’t escape from. Diplomacy.

She opened the letter to find a handwritten message.

“Dearest (Y/N),

I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been a few months since you left Wakanda without even saying goodbye and I believe we have a few matters to discuss. Political ones mostly, but I suppose we can find the time to discuss other things.

As you might be aware of, our fathers shared a close friendship, and both kingdoms were war allies before and we also did a lot of commerce; that is relationship that I wish to re-build now that we have become public personas and that we have properly met (the circumstances were terrible, but at least everyone got something positive out of it). Would it be okay if I ask you out for dinner soon? Whatever your answer may be, reply this letter as soon as possible and I’ll make the arrangements to meet your convenience.

Looking forward to hear from you.

Faithfully yours,


(Y/N) held the letter for a few more minutes before she could realize that she was thinking about the ruler of the peaceful kingdom that received her just months ago. She was still surprised that he did it, and on top of that, he was asking to meet her again. Yes, they had some important topics to discuss, but for the words and their underlying meaning, he was quite eager to see her.

She took a deep breath and wrote the reply herself. She didn’t want to waste any other precious second. She called the same maiden and asked to send the letter away and that it was extremely important that she made sure it would arrive as soon as it could be.

The venue for their dinner would be the gorgeous city of Marrakesh; they agreed that a neutral place was the best option for their not-official diplomatic meeting. (Y/N) appeared in a restaurant wearing a tight black dress. It had no back, and the cleavage was low, but not low enough to show her breasts or to look tacky. T’Challa was blown away by her beauty; he remembered quite well the girl in his palace, but the girl back then used to hide herself under baggy clothes, or hide herself in her bedroom if possible.

“It’s nice to see you out,” T’Challa commented as he conducted her to their table, “how are you feeling?”

“It’s hard to get back on track,” she nodded, feeling the weight of her words, “but I got some good people to take care of me.”

The drinks started to pour on their glasses and the food arrived to them. Spicy food was one thing, but the dishes there were more condiments than actual ingredients. It was a fun meal, and even though they could not speak very much, the looks they shared said more than a hundred words.

(Y/N) felt how he observed her every move, from the way she ate, to the way her lips captured the glass and the liquid went down her throat. She started to like the way that his feelings were so out there, she was not even having an insight of his mind, but instead; he was giving it all away as if he wanted her to witness everything that he was going through.

“It’s kinda funny to think our parents were once allies,” (Y/N) started, “I still have your father in my memory. He’s one of the memories I cherish the most.” She smiled almost to herself. “I remember that he gave me, for one of my birthdays, a small sculpture of a panther.” She giggled heartedly. “I never thought I’d learn the hard way that apparently the panther is the national animal in Wakanda.”

“I actually made that,” T’Challa admitted, scratching the back of his neck and feeling a strong warmth spreading through his face, “and I wanted to give it to you so badly, because you were the only other child I knew that knew exactly what I was going through, but I got sick the few days before that and… I was bound to be in bed for about a week so… I was destroyed by that.” He chuckled. Just a few seconds after, they fell silent. They searched in each other’s eyes for conversation, and that was enough, but T’Challa broke the silence between them. “You know, I spent my teenage years imagining how you had grown up, and if there could be a chance of us keeping a future together—for the sake of our kingdoms, of course.” He hurried to add.

“That’s a heavy wonder to carry for a teenage boy.” (Y/N) conceded, swirling the liquid in the glass with her powers. She was absent minded, thinking about the little boy she once met; it was hard to believe that the boy had grown up into such a majestic man, not to mention how handsome he was. She shook her head, as if it made the thoughts go away, but she still had in mind the words he said, and how he thought about the future. “You know, my father was not a very sentimental man, and he was most probably worried about the future of the people rather than my future, but he always said that it would’ve been a good idea to keep relations with Wakanda.” She pursed her lips into a smile. “He said, it was one of dreams to see me married to the heir. And now that I know him… I believe my father knew what he talked about.”

“And what is that?”

“He must have had some idea about the kind of man you have turned into.” She exhaled heavily and let her back rest comfortably on the chair. “I’m not the kind of girl that’s good with words, let alone those words being about my inner thoughts and the mind beyond my mind, so I’ll say this quickly: I like you, and I like the man you’ve become. I like you because you took care of me like no one else would have, even though I was the one who made you feel so enraged. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, and playing with your feelings was one. If you want me to answer your teenage question: yes, there is a chance of keeping our kingdoms together, but I don’t want to be with you because of that, I want to be with you because the feeling is corresponded. If not—”

“I thought those words would never come.” T’Challa chuckled. “I’ve been thinking about those words since I can remember, and… they feel a hundred times better.” He rested his elbows on the table and reached out for (Y/N)’s hands, but she couldn’t move. “I’ve been in love with you, and the thought of you for long, and you can’t imagine how broken my heart was when I saw you under arrest… and what they did to you at the Raft…” He clenched his fists and his knuckles whitened from the strength used. “I couldn’t stand it. I mean, the thought of what you went through still keeps me up at night.” He stopped for a few seconds, just to get his thoughts straight. “I don’t care about what you did; that’s buried in the past and I have no interest in bringing it back. I like who you are now, and I want to learn from you… Let’s give this a try, and if this does not meet your expectations, or if something happens along the way, just promise me you’ll be as sincere as you have been throughout the night.”

“I—I will.” (Y/N) stammered nervously, as she timidly intertwined her hands with T’Challa’s. She smiled at the contact between them; it was so childish, so innocent, but she knew she was making the right decision. “I’m just so… I thought that, once you found out that it was me who toyed with everyone’s mind and that I was involved with Captain Rogers, you’d shut me out and probably you wouldn’t even talk to me about diplomacy… I thought you’d… exile me out of your life.” She said, with a taint of gloominess in her voice. Her fingers gently traced the veins on the back of T’Challa’s hand. She took a deep breath, experiencing in first person the feelings that occupied the mind and heart of the king. “Have you always been this intense?” She giggled when she saw herself affected by the king’s lust.

“Only when the woman I’ve loved all my life is wearing something like that.” T’Challa smiled slyly, not even feeling intimidated by being busted. He let go of (Y/N)’s hands and stood up to take a few steps next to her. “May I take the fun somewhere else?” He offered his hand.

“Yes,” she nodded, taking the hand and standing up, “you may…” Before T’Challa started to walk away with her, she tugged at his arm and made him turn around to pull him closer to her and kiss those plump lips that had hypnotized her all night long. His kiss was soft, and his hands on her hips were even softer. She held on tightly to him, feeling every inch of his body mold to hers and his muscles tightening. She pulled away, needing some air to think straight. “Perhaps we could take the fun to my room… My king.” She breathed to his ear, knowing the reaction it would have in him.

Magic, The Kind You Get in Mushrooms

This is the first of a few little fluffy domestic!bughead fics I think I’m gonna write. I’ve had so many lovely dad!jughead ideas from the gorgeous @believe-that-you-can-my-friend that I’m just gonna have to write them all!

P.S. I realised that my anon asks have stupidly been off this whole time, but they are on now if you have any requests you’d like to send my way <3

Betty couldn’t stop her fingers from tapping against the worktop as she waited for her husband to come home. It was his turn to pick their daughter, Juliet, up from school but the time was dragging on as she busied herself in the kitchen, cleaning up invisible dirt and arranging the jars so that all the labels were facing forwards in uniform. 

The keys in the door sent another tingle of anticipation through her as she moved to the fridge, pulling out a little container of sliced fruit to give to Juliet as a snack, hearing the door open and her family bumble in. 

“…and she said that Elsa was the best princess but I told her that I liked Princess Peach the best because she has the pink motorbike…” Juliet’s little voice floated down the hallway and Betty chuckled, already picturing the proud smirk on Jughead’s face as their daughter talked about the video games he played with her. 

“You tell ‘em, Juliebee,” Jughead cheered, helping her with her things. “Ah, wait. Shoes off first,” he warned, biting his lip against a smile at the grownup way she sighed and rolled her eyes, something she’d picked up from her mother, looking the spitting image Betty in that moment. “And less sass, little lady!” he chastised, making her squeal as she tried to run away from him, fingers tickling her sides. 

“Mommy!” Juliet yelled, coming to grab onto her mom’s leg in protection, giggling as Jughead rounded the corner, menacing grin on his face. 

“Hey, lovebug, good day at school?” Betty asked, stroking the dark curls back from Juliet’s forehead and handing her the snack. She took it and started munching away, waiting for Betty to lift her onto one of the bar stools under the counter. 

“It was good. Lily said that Charlie couldn’t spin around for a minute and then walk in a straight line but he could. He’d just drank his milk though and he barfed everywhere!” she told her mom in excitement, eyes shining. Betty blanched, eyes flicking to Jughead, knowing that their daughter’s reaction to grossness was definitely his doing. 

“Lovely,” Betty settled on replying, trying to shake the image from her head while her own stomach churned slightly. Taking a deep breath she tried to focus on her own excitement. Catching Jughead’s eyes she raised her eyebrows in question. He responded with a nod, grin lighting up his face as they took their own seats at the counter. 

“Juliebee? Me and your mom have something to tell you,” Jughead started, drawing her attention away from the food in front of her - a difficult feat considering she was Jughead’s child. 

“What?” she asked, clear green eyes flicking between both of them curiously. When they didn’t answer her immediately she furrowed her brows, perfectly pink bottom lip pushing out slightly. “What is it?”

“How would you feel about being a big sister?” Betty asked, apprehension coursing through her body as the little girl stared blankly back at her. 

“That would be cool,” she said finally, nodding her head firmly as if she’d thought about this very seriously. Betty and Jughead laughed in unison, him leaning over to ruffle her hair.

“That’s good, because we’re going to have a baby,” he said smiling down at her angelic little face. 

“When are we going to get it? Today?” she asked, hope lighting up her voice. Betty laughed, enjoying her innocence. 

“No, baby, it’s in my tummy,” Betty said, resting a hand lightly over her abdomen. “They have to do some growing first.” Juliet narrowed her eyes, staring intently at the spot Betty’s hand covered as if she could see the baby if she squinted hard enough. 

“How did it get in there?” she questioned, tilting her head to one side, cogs turning in her head. Betty looked up sharply, wide eyes meeting Jughead’s, identical expressions on their faces. They had hoped they could skip this line of questioning but that didn’t seem to be the case. At Jughead’s panicked expression Betty smirked suddenly, wariness slipping onto his features at whatever scheme his wife was cooking up. 

“Um, your daddy is better at explaining things, he’ll tell you,” Betty rushed out before Jughead could protest, slipping off the stool and moving around the kitchen again, blowing a dumbfound Jughead a kiss over their daughters head. He narrowed his eyes at his impossible wife, heart still fluttering with how he got so lucky nonetheless. 

“Err, well you see…” he trailed off, wracking his brains. Suddenly an idea hit him. “You know how when we play Mario he eats the mushrooms that can turn him small or big or shiny? Well, Mommy ate a special mushroom and now she has a baby growing in her tummy!” he finished triumphantly. Ok, so it wasn’t his best lie but it was all he had. Betty coughed, trying to hide a laugh. Oh, she was in for it later, Jughead thought. He turned his trepidatious eyes back to his daughter, watching her work through what he’d said. 

“I don’t like mushrooms,” she finally said, scrunching her nose up delicately. Jughead couldn’t help the laugh that burst through his lips, throwing his head back at the ridiculousness of it all. He came round to stand beside her, kissing her on the forehead before picking her up and setting her on the ground. 

“Me neither, Juliebee, me neither,” he said, still chuckling slightly as he watched her run off to play. Betty came closer, wrapping her arms around his waist and looking up at him, mischievous glint in her eyes. 

“Magic mushrooms? Really, Juggie?” she smirked. He slipped his hands around her hips, shaking his head at her. 

“Hey, if you’re gonna delegate the responsibilities you better be more careful about which ones you give to me,” he joked, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. She laughed against his mouth. The sound of tiny feet thudding against the floor pulled them apart as they turned to see Juliet standing in the doorway, breathing fast and eyes wide. 

“Sammy had mushrooms on his pizza today!” she yelled. Jughead’s mouth opened, no words coming out as Betty doubled over, laughing with abandon at the flaw in his explanation and their daughter’s panicked face. Maybe she should have done the talking after all. 

Suffocation (9S/2B)

Read on a03

The first time was almost easy. They barely knew each other. It was just another command, one more comrade struck down by her hand. 2B had no pride in her work, but she had no remorse for it either. Emotions were forbidden and she was simply performing the duty she was designed for. However, with him, it was somehow different. There was a uniqueness to this 9S shown through his childish appearance and expressiveness. Still, when the order came, she slit his throat without a moment’s hesitation. He faced her, inquisitive eyes wide enough to be visible behind his visor, mouth agape in silent question. Red beaded from the gnash, staining against the stark black of his tailcoat. His head lolled down in a mockery of a nod before his body slumped along with it. 2B made no move to catch him and he landed in an ugly heap. Emotions aside, there was an unpleasantness to the sight that stuck with her. If she had not known better, she might have taken him for a mangled doll.

Keep reading

What’s My Name (part 2)

Young!Sirius Black x Reader

Plot: Part two of ‘What’s My Name?’ where the reader is scared because of the wizarding war, and Sirius is comforting her. 

Word count: 1555
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything recognisable.
Warning: Swearing

The book in her lap felt heavy against her skin, but it was nothing compared to the eyes following her; crushing her. She tried to focus on the people in front of her. James Potter and Sirius Black had officially become her friends one month ago, because of an accidental run in with the dark and mysterious boy from the house of Black. Not that he’s that mysterious once one gets to know him – way to talkative.

(Y/N) looked at the boys arguing over what colour a shrinking solution turns.

“I brewed one with Remus in fourth year, and it turned red,” Sirius claimed.

“Nah, that was a laugh-inducing potion, you wanker, shrinking solutions is blue,” James protested.

“Oh, shut up, Prongs, I know my potions,” Sirius laughed.

“If you did, you would know the answer is blue and not bloody red,” James closed the book, and the sound of the pages smacking together caused Madam Pince to eye them with care.

(Y/N) licked her lips, smiling amused at the Gryffindors, “Actually the right answer is green,” (Y/N) pointed out.

“Really?” Sirius asked.

“No, it’s blue.”

“No, it’s green.”

“I think she might be right, Jamesy,” Sirius took her side quickly, he usually did.

“Fine, I don’t really care, just never call me that again,” James pretended to shiver with disgust.

As she began to laugh at the ridiculous act, a small piece of paper shaped like a bird landed in front of her. She unfolded it cautiously. When she read the note, her head turned quickly. A pair of sixth-year students sat facing her. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; they were just sending her short, seemingly innocent glances now and then. The note, on the other hand, told another story.

Mudblood. The word stung.

Mudblood. She’d heard it before. Of course, she had, it’s what she was after all, but she’d imagined her last year at Hogwarts to be different. Less judgemental.

“What’s that?” Sirius asked her once he noticed the paper in her hand.

“Nothing, just a reminder to hand in the potions book before eight tonight, you know how Madam Pince gets if a book goes missing,” (Y/N) lied. It was easier if they didn’t know, they had enough on their plates already.

“Yeah, she’s a bit off her trolly, right?” James snickered.

“Once, she hunted me down in the infirmary because I hadn’t handed in a book I borrowed,” Sirius told them.

“Padfoot..” James shook his head, “First of all, Peter was the one lying in the infirmary bed, and second, you stole the book from the forbidden section,” James rolled his eyes, exposing his best friend.

“Restricted section, there’s a difference. And I know that, Prongs, but (Y/N) over her, she didn’t know that, and now my story is not so exciting anymore.”

“Wasn’t that exciting to begin with, Sirius,” (Y/N) winked at him as his face turned into a pained expression.


“No,” the red-haired girl exclaimed angry, “No, they did not!”

(Y/N) hushed her, looking around the hallway to see if anyone heard them.

“Don’t talk so loud, Lily,” she didn’t mean for the words to come out as harsh as they did, but her anxiety took hold of her emotions.

“Nobody’s here, (Y/N),” Lily tried to reassure the Hufflepuff girl, but it didn’t work.

“This is Hogwarts, Lily; the walls could have ears for all we know,” she used her fingers to straighten out her hair as she spoke.

“Okay, sorry,” Lily said, but the apology was obviously quite half-hearted.

(Y/N) had a feeling Lily acted courageously because that was the only way her friends had ever seen her. She played pretend whenever the topic of rising muggleborn deaths was brought up, or when Voldemort covered the first page of The Daily Prophet. She couldn’t bring herself to be scared because it didn’t fit her strong image.

“I believe you’re overreacting, (Y/N), as you said, this is Hogwarts, nothing bad is going to happen to us here,” Lily touched the girl’s shoulder, squeezing tight.

(Y/N) shook her head, “But there’s a world outside of Hogwarts, Lily, and I want to live in it.”


She moved quickly across the corridor. Blending into the shadows of the many lights that flickered beautifully, illuminating her skin. She passed a paper flowing magically through the hallway; it had names written in black ink on its white surface. (Y/N)’s name was the third name on the list. A list of all the muggleborn students at the school. Funny.

The professors had tried to take down the horrible list that some of the pureblood-supremacist students had hung up all over the school two weeks ago, but each time one disappeared, another paper replaced it.

When (Y/N) started her last year at Hogwarts, she had not been optimistic, rather the opposite, but nothing could prepare the muggleborn girl for a year like this. She was a decease trapped within the walls of this magical castle. And no one understood her constant fear.

After the war broke out it had been insufferable to be what (Y/N) was. Born with the wrong blood.

She tried her best to hide her fear, but the truth was that every day felt like it might be her last. Evil eyes followed her every move. The note she’d gotten was nothing compared to the constant feeling of being hunted.

“(Y/L/N)!” A boy with green robes stopped her in her tracks.

“Malfoy,” (Y/N) greeted him coldly.

“Where’s your Gryffindork gang when you need them, Mudblood?” the girl behind him asked, laughing in a high pitch.

“I don’t need anyone.”

“Ahh, you sure about that?” Bellatrix asked, drawing her wand from inside her robes. Quickly, a jet of red light blasted towards the Hufflepuff girl, and she barely managed to dodge the spell.

“Are you out of your mind?” She yelled at the Slytherin.

(Y/N) fished out her wand from her back pocket, casting a spell that hit the white-haired boy in the chest. He started to move uncontrollably around the corridor, a shocked expression on his face, turning angry.

Another jet of light zoomed towards her, and this time it hit her leg.

“(Y/N)!” someone yelled behind her as she tripped, crashing towards the floor.

The Slytherin students turned, running away as fast as the voices of (Y/N)’s friends could be heard behind the girl.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) snapped at James as he tried to help her up.

“I can’t believe those cunts,” Sirius called out.

“They’re not getting away with this,” Peter looked at the girl, his voice upset.

“I said, I’m fine!” (Y/N) cut their banter off.

“(Y/N),” Sirius mumbled, his hand touching hers. She stepped back.

“It’s okay to be upset, but don’t take it out on the boys, they are only trying to help,” Sirius told her, trying to calm her down. Unfortunately, it did the opposite.

“You know what? Fuck James, and fuck you!”

“Um, what?” James looked confused at the girl.

“You both think you know what it’s like, because of what? You’re blood traitors? Is that it? You think you understand how it is to walk down the halls of this bloody awful school, people spitting at you because you’re different. Because you don’t share the same fucking blood as them?”

“We never meant to hurt you, (Y/N), but we’ve all got something you know, something that makes us targets in this war,” James began.

“No, you don’t get to play the victim card here, because it’s too fucking easy for you- you were both born with a safety net wrapped around you.” (Y/N) bit her lip frustrated.

None of the boys said anything; she didn’t know if it was out of anger, or because they understood what she meant through her heated shouting.

“Do you know what it feels like to have people be too afraid to look you in the eyes anymore? Because they are so scared for their lives, of what might happen to them if someone thinks they’ve picked a side?” She asked, looking into the eyes of the boy who’d been there for her for months now.

“I- I..” he tried to find the right words, but nothing came out.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), but what do you want me to do about it?”

“I want you to..” (Y/N) started her sentence, but there was nothing she could say, nothing he could do.

As Sirius stepped closer to her, touching her upper arm, she rested her forehead against his hand.

“It’s unfair of me to want anything from you,” she confessed, “I’m just so scared, Sirius.”

“Me too,” he nodded, “and before you say anything, I know my situation isn’t anywhere near yours, my blood status is an advantage, but don’t you think for a second we’re not gonna fight for the right cause – the winning cause.”

“Always,” she agreed, “but, I think I should get back, it’s getting late,” it really wasn’t that late, but if (Y/N) stayed for one more second, she would burst out crying.

“I’ll follow you back,” Sirius said, “You know, just in case those arsehole Slytherins come back.”

“I don’t need you to defend me, Sirius,” she smiled.

“I never said you did, I just want to punch Malfoy in the face,” he laughed, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Fair enough.”




Eyelids fluttered open, and Draco Malfoy was in a room he didn’t recognize. He inhaled through his nose, and an unfamiliar - but sweet - scent flooded his senses. He quickly came to the realization that he was in a bed, and quite shirtless. He began to sit up against the white cotton sheets, when his head exploded with pain. His hand flew to the creases in his forehead, his thumb and forefinger rubbing his temples.

“Bloody hell.” he mumbled, slowly rolling over.

“You’re finally up.” she said, startling him.

His eyes widened as he slowly focused on the girl sitting in bed next to him. The morning sunlight shone in from the window, outlining the sharp features of her face. She leaned against the headboard, a book open on her lap. She hadn’t looked up from the pages, and continued to read as he stared at her. His mind searched for memories of the night before, but everything was fuzzy.

She finally looked up and met his eyes. It took him a second to recognize her, but when he did, her face brought him back to Hogwarts. They hadn’t spoken back then - well, he didn’t think they had.

“Where am I?” he asked her, his voice groggy.

“In my apartment.” she said, matter-of-factly, turning back to her book. 

“Why?” he asked, but then his naked chest prompted a new question. “Did we, um…”

The corners of her mouth turned up and a small laugh escaped her lips. “You wish.” 

“Then why am I here?” he said, clearly not pleased with how she had laughed at him.

She snapped her book shut and looked back at him, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “You don’t remember anything from last night, do you?”

He rubbed his forehead again, staring at her. His lips turned up into a smirk. “Enlighten me, won’t you?” he said, his voice coated in sarcasm.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “I’m making coffee.” she said before climbing out of bed and walking out of the room.

Draco watched her walk out, utterly confounded by the situation and a little upset that he couldn’t remember anything.

He quickly followed her out, surprised that he was still wearing the skinny jeans he’d probably had on the night before. 

He entered her kitchen, and couldn’t help but look around. It was startlingly organized, and very aesthetically pleasing. The air smelled of coffee, and his eyes fell on her as she poured coffee grounds into a muggle coffee maker.

He took a seat at the kitchen’s island counter, and asked, “Where’s my shirt?”

She turned around and grinned, leaning on the counter as the coffee pot began to fill with coffee. “In the trash. You threw up on yourself last night.”

Draco was not enjoying this one bit. He was usually the one with the upper hand - dishing out snarky remarks and witty sarcasm. He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed that he’d puked on himself during a blur of time he couldn’t even remember. “Oh.” he said, and felt a hint of pink rise to his cheeks.

“Hold on.” she said, and walked past him, disappearing into another room.

He searched his mind for who the girl was - he hadn’t wanted to offend her by asking. They had gone to school together, he was sure of that. But her name drew a blank in his book. And he had no idea why he was at her apartment.

“Here.” she said, walking back into the kitchen and tossing him a crumpled up sweatshirt.

“Thanks.” he said, unfolding it and seeing the Ravenclaw emblem embedded on the front, and the number eleven on the back.

Quidditch. The word popped into his mind. She was the Ravenclaw seeker; they had played against each other. Images cycled through his mind of her, back when they were still in school: The sorting hat shouting “Ravenclaw!” the second it was placed on her head that first day. Her flying past him on her broomstick, fingers outstretched towards the snitch. Her getting detention for defending Potter against Umbridge. Her face during the battle when Potter’s limp body laid in Hagrid’s arms. Her, taking on two Death Eaters at a time and winning.

They had been on opposing sides. Draco had no idea why she had even let him set foot in her apartment - let alone sleep in her bed.

“Y/N.” he blurted.

“Huh?” she said, as she poured steaming coffee into a purple mug.

“That is your name, right? We went to school together.” he said, his heart rattling at the fear of being wrong. The sweatshirt was soft in his hands, as he waited for her response.

She raised her eyebrows. “Wow, I guess you really can’t remember yesterday.” she said, slight amusement in her voice. She took a sip of her coffee.

“No, I don’t.” he said, pulling the sweatshirt over his head. “Now can you stop saying that and just tell me?”

Y/N took out another mug and poured a second cup of coffee, sitting down across from Draco. She slid the mug across the granite counter toward him, and he took it with both hands, feeling the comforting warmth underneath his fingertips.

“Fine.” she said.

It was an overstuffed, hectic night at the Three Broomsticks and Y/N was exhausted from working all day. She had about half an hour before her shift was over, and she glanced at the clock so often it felt as though time were frozen.

“Y/N. Table four. Then you can go home.” her boss called, and she sighed as she grabbed a menu from the front podium.

She looked in the direction of the table by the window, and was surprised to see Draco Malfoy, sitting alone, his hand wrapped around an almost-empty glass of alcohol. He was staring ahead of him in a daze, his mind obviously somewhere else.

She swallowed and made her way over, setting the menu down in front of him.

He didn’t look up until she spoke. “Can I help you?” she asked, twiddling her pen between her fingers. 

When he did lift his head, she saw that his eyes were glossy and his lips were slightly parted. He looked at her as if he was trying to solve a very complicated math problem.

“Can I get you anything?” she pressed, rocking back onto her heels. She was utterly drained from the day’s work and did not want to make this longer than it had to be.

“I know you.” Draco slurred, not taking his eyes off her face.

“Excuse me?”

“Didn’t you go to Hogwarts?” he asked, and then emptied the glass in his hand by pouring it down his throat.

“Yeah.” she said. She had obviously remembered Draco - the egotistical Slytherin that didn’t seem to care about anyone but himself. He was constantly tormenting Harry Potter throughout their years at Hogwarts. Draco was an ass, as Y/N recalled.

“I knew it!” Draco said, quite loudly. “You were in… um…”

“Ravenclaw.” she stated, growing more irritated by the second.

“Ravenclaw! Yes! And your name is… shit, I just had it.” he drunkenly continued, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

She rolled her eyes. “Y/N.”

He snapped his fingers in the air before shouting, “Yes! See? I remember! I’m Dr-”

“Draco Malfoy. Yeah, I know. You’re also incredibly drunk.” she said, fed up with how he was acting.

“I am not!” he fired, looking offended. “I’ve had… a few glasses of firewhiskey. That’s all.” He looked into his empty cup and sighed.

“Well, are you going to order something? Or are you waiting for someone?” she asked.

“Nope. Just me.” he said, completely ignoring her first question.

Her curiosity got the best of her. “What are you doing here, by yourself?”

He looked back up at her, and she took note of the dark circles underneath his glossed-over eyes.

“Well, my house was too big, and I got lonely. My parents were just sent to Azkaban for their war crimes, so, I get the manor all to myself.” Draco explained.

She swallowed. “Oh.”

Back in school, she had always heard rumors about the Malfoys, but she’s never known if they were true. She’d also heard that Draco had a dark mark, and she wondered now if the ink still resided on his skin.

“You know what? I-I don’t want to order anything else.” he said, standing up abruptly and throwing a few crinkled bills on the table. “I’m just gonna go.”

Y/N watched him stumble out, still obviously wasted from the alcohol in his system. Then, she hastily ran into the back, threw off her apron, grabbed her bag and jacket, and rushed out of the Three Broomsticks.

She wasn’t quite sure why she did it.

“Draco! Wait!” she called once she saw him, not very far down the road. His blonde head whipped around.


The words come out of her mouth before she could even think about it. “Let me take you home. You’re obviously not in a great state to be wandering around town at night.”

Draco looked at her for a moment, before running a hand through his hair. “No thanks, I don’t really want to go back there.”

“Where are you gonna go?” she asked. Y/N had no clue why she was so concerned about Draco Malfoy.

“I don’t know. I’ll crash somewhere.” he mumbled, giving her a small smile. He turned around and began to walk away.

She sighed, knowing she might regret this later. “You can crash with me.”

Draco stopped again, spinning around on his heels to face her.

“Really?” he said, surprised.

“Yeah.” she replied. “My apartment is right outside of town.”

“Okay.” he said quickly. 


She managed to walk him all the way to her apartment complex. She’d read somewhere that it was not a good idea to apparate somebody while they’re drunk, and she didn’t want to take that chance.

By the time they got up to the third floor, Draco was looking very faint. They reached her door, and he stumbled over his own feet and almost fell, but she grabbed his arm just in time.

“Woah, are you - oh!” she said, jumping out of the way as Draco vomited on himself.

Her nose crinkled in disgust. Why did I do this again? she asked herself.

“Sorry.” Draco mumbled, avoiding her eyes. 

She sighed yet again that night. “It’s alright.” she said, and reluctantly helped him out of his shirt, in the middle of the hallway.

After she threw the shirt down the trash chute (because she was not going to deal with washing it), she unlocked the door and they walked in.

She flipped on the lights, and exhaled a breath of relief for finally being home. Although, she wasn’t used to having a guest - let alone Draco Malfoy, of all people.

“Your home is lovely.” Draco said, a hint of intoxication still in his voice.

Y/N laughed at how ridiculous he sounded. “Thanks.”

It was then that she noticed the mark on his arm. It was slightly faded, but still there.

“Um, the bathroom is attached to my bedroom, in there.” she said, gesturing towards her room so he could clean himself up. 

“Thanks.” he said, before disappearing into the room.

After she had hung up her keys, put away her coat, and tidied up a bit, she made her way into her bedroom.

Draco Malfoy was passed out in her bed.

She exhaled. What did she get herself into?

He looked at her across the counter, and shifted awkwardly in his seat. Draco felt the soft inside of her sweatshirt against his torso as he said, “Wow.”

“Yup.” she replied, taking a sip of her coffee.

“You really threw my shirt away?” he said, as it was the first thing that crossed his mind.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

“I’m kidding.” he added hastily, sipping his coffee as well. “Thank you, for doing that. I’m sorry I was such a… wasted mess.”

“It’s fine.” she said softly, pressing her lips together.

“Why did you do it? Help me, I mean.” he asked, genuinely curious as to why she would even think about helping him. He was a horrible person back when they went to school together - and he didn’t think he was much better now.

She swallowed and looked into her mug. “Honestly, I don’t know. I guess… I felt bad for you.”

He chuckled, but not in a charming way. “Pity. Nice.”

“Hey!” Y/N said, offended. “At least I did what I did. You should be happy someone was actually nice to you, after everything.” 

He hesitated. Her words sunk into him like a knife.

“You’re right.” he breathed. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to people caring about… getting me home safely.”

She sighed, and gave him a small smile, saying, “It’s okay.”

The two of them talked into the late morning, sipping their cups of coffee and reliving their time at Hogwarts. Draco talked lightly about his parents, and how they had treated him. Y/N realized that Draco had been a jerk for a reason - his parents had brought him up to be one. She could tell he genuinely regretted  how he acted back then. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of sympathy for Draco - who now lived in a giant house, alone.

Hours later, when their mugs were drained, Draco said, “I should go.”

She didn’t want him to leave. She could have stayed in that kitchen and talked to him all day - but she’d never let him know that. “Okay.” 

As they made their way to the door, she teased, “You sure you don’t need help getting home?”

They stopped in front of the door, facing each other, and Draco smiled. “You know, I think I can manage on my own.”

Their eyes lingered on each other for a moment, before Draco said, “Oh yeah, your sweater.” and began to take it off.

“Oh, you can hold onto it, for now.” Y/N said, quickly.

Draco smirked. “Are you implying that you want to see me again?”

“No, I was being nice and not making you walk home without a shirt. But you can give it back now, if you want.” 

Draco, knowing that he could easily apparate himself back to the manor, and being shirtless would not be an issue, replied, “On second thought, I’ll keep it. It’ll give me an excuse to bump into you again.”

Y/N felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and did her best to hide it from him. “Okay, Draco.” she said, opening the door. “Bye.”


Then his lips were on hers. She gasped, surprised, but immediately kissed him back. Her hands were in his hair and his hands were on the sides of her face and it was blazing, blazing, blazing. He was drowning and she was the oxygen above the lake. She could taste the coffee on his lips; she could taste the desperation. 

She pulled away, after what felt like forever. “Bye.” she repeated, not able to pry the grin off her lips.

Draco smiled. “Bye.”



Heya! I somehow managed to finish this so yay xD The squad wanted it, I wrote it! This is what happens when I listen to Ayo Technology. Thanks Milo.

Warning: It’s getting hot in here ;)

Matteo flung yet another crumbled piece of paper into the waste bin next to his desk. The Italian’s mood hadn’t been the best lately. He missed Argentina. His friends. Luna.

Especially Luna.

He had read that writing down your thoughts would make them disappear. Or that was what he liked to tell himself as to why he was trying to write new song for Luna.

The real reason for this song was that Matteo Balsano was a hormonal teenage boy and four weeks of Italy had really taken its toll on his sanity. Just the thought that another two weeks without his girlfriend were ahead him made Matteo want to drown himself in the next pool. He was tired of seeing her just over Skype, not being able to touch her.

Keep reading

Learning to Love

part 1/23

a supercorp fake dating au where everyone is a movie star and they have to fake date because reasons

tw: homophobia

Chapter 1: Lena

6 months ago

In hindsight, there are a lot of things that Lena could have done differently. There were big things, like how she could have chosen not to audition for Sunset five years ago, and there were small things, like how she could have chosen not to invite Jess over to her place that night. Mostly, she thinks, the thing she regrets not doing is closing the curtains. She thinks this because, at the sight of open curtains, the paparazzi got everything they had ever wanted from her: a secret.

Keep reading
She Wants The Dust - Chapter 24 | RWBYRemnants
Blake catches up with Yang in the kitchens.
By Organization for Transformative Works

THIS CHAPTER: White Rose: exhibitionism, more implied.
Bumbleby: fellatio, anal fingering, scissoring, nipple-play, coming inside.
(a little unrealistic lol)

=Chapter 24

The itchy need for satisfaction was filling Blake as she strode through the halls, stomach clenched. She needed Yang. In fact, she needed Yang immediately.

Keep reading

Find what you love and let it kill you; bits and pieces of Hajime and Tooru throughout the years.

(ao3 link)

Hajime is 4 years old when he meets 4-year-old Tooru, a tiny ball of shyness with blushing cheeks, hiding behind his mom’s skirt, mistrustful like a cat. His hair falls softly around his shoulders in light brown curls and his eyes glisten with nervous reserve.

“Mom, is Tooru a boy or a girl?” Hajime asks the same night, curious.

“He is a boy, baby, just like you,” his mom answers gently rocking him back and forward in her arms.

Hajime gasps, makes a small sound of fascination, “He’s so pretty. Maybe he’s both!”

“Maybe,” his mom agrees, voice carrying a note of frisky cheerfulness.


Hajime is 6 years old and has a best friend - a 6-year-old Tooru. For as much time it took Tooru to warm up to him, he is twice as clingy, always by Hajime’s side—laughing, playing, exploring together, joined at the hip. 

The thing is though, Tooru cries a lot. He cries when he’s overwhelmed, when he’s tired, when he falls down and scrapes his knees, but most often he cries when the sun sets and Hajime needs to go home.

Hajime hates seeing Tooru cry. He calls him a big baby, but he’s always there to help - he protects him, he takes care of him when he falls, he carries him home when he’s tired. And even if he won’t admit it, he is happy like that, even a bit proud, because the truth is - Hajime is the only one who can make Tooru stop crying. He can deal with him when he’s sad, when he’s angry, when he is frustrated. It makes him oddly content. He reasons it must be because Tooru is his best friend and their time together is a precious whirlwind of memories he wants to keep forever.

“I’m so sorry for him,” Tooru’s mom says as she brings Tooru to the Iwaizumi’s house the same evening for yet another sleepover, “he likes your Hajime-chan quite a lot,” she adds and laughs along with Hajime’s mom.

Keep reading

Pool Floats and Tablecloths - Jump Start ch.2

Hey nerds! Sorry it’s been literally forever since I’ve updated- work has been crazy, there was a bout with pneumonia, summer getting started … I could make excuses forever. Anyways, I hope to start updating more regularly - no promises, but I’ll try! Let me know what you guys think! Might help spur my creativity!!


 Steal My Girl - One Direction

Beca felt the warm sun on her back as her hands and feet dangled over the edge of the raft and into the water. It was a relaxing juxtaposition, the cool water on one side, heat on the other. Of course she was covered head to toe in a triple layer of 70 SPF sunscreen, because unfortunately, her pale skin wasn’t quite reflective enough to bounce back the sun’s rays.

It was Sunday, the one day she absolutely refused to do any work on - it was her one constant - the one day of the week where she had no plans other than relax with her fiancée.


Keep reading

Visual Pleasure and Narrative Sherlock pt. 3: Power, pleasure, and epistemological desire, or Sherlock as sapiosexual

(Part 1, “Watching the detective”; Part 2, “Objectifying The Woman.”)

(This post was originally titled “Knowledge, asexuality, and power,” but a recent discussion showed me that my focus is actually a little different. I love readings of Sherlock as asexual, but I think in the end I’m going to stay away from asexual identity claims for him; it’s not my place, and it’s too loaded. I’ve got my own understanding and term for how he experiences desire, and more qualified people can tell me if that fits anywhere in the constellation of asexuality. If what I say here bears on sexuality, then it’s sexuality in its widest terms: desire, pleasure, intimacy, and contact.

Please note that this is essentially the text of a lecture on cinematography given to first-year students who hadn’t had instruction in film or sexuality; it tends to be very basic, and I kept it simple and left stuff out not because that stuff isn’t important but because there was only so much students could absorb.)


“To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position.” (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, “A Scandal in Bohemia.”)

While the BBC version of “Scandal in Bohemia” bears little resemblance to the original, they seem to have gotten this paragraph right at least. Yes, Irene Adler is the Woman. In SiB it’s how she names herself, it’s her professional title, and her profession is sexual. (And no, Sherlock doesn’t love her–that’d be a “false position”–but I’ll get to that later.) And as the woman, the representative of all women, the heterosexist visual economy of film says she must be objectified by the desiring male gaze. That’s definitely what happens in ASiB, as we’ve seen. To a certain point her objectification, her sexual appeal, gives her power over Sherlock and the narrative. But Sherlock is first and foremost a show about knowledge, and in the end the power of intellect, Sherlock’s power, wins out.

For knowledge is not just power for Sherlock, it’s pleasure. Identifying his sexual identity is fraught, and has sparked oh so many fiery discussions. But in the end, the most essential question is the easiest to answer: what does Sherlock want? He wants to know shit. He is driven by epistemological desire. He takes profound pleasure in knowledge, and often that pleasure looks distinctly erotic. To me, Sherlock is sapiosexual: he desires to know, and when he knows, he gets off. Not genitally (I haven’t checked his pants), but it often looks just like physical pleasure and a satisfaction of lust.

Keep reading


So, a new update for Sonic Dash happened recently, in which it’s supposed to prep for an upcoming Challenge Event that unlocks a new character to the roster.

In addition to that, the update seems to have added new character specific trick poses, which seem easily like something you’d expect each character to do, such as Tails doing his usual “Jump in the air and strike a cheerful pose”, Blaze looking like she’s ready to light up if needed, Knuckles punching the air (that first image reminds me of his jump pose in Sonic Heroes), Shadow doing his Ultimate Lifeform pose, and Sonic just having a good time…

And then there’s Amy… Who really should think about either wearing shorts or a longer skirt, because I REALLY don’t care about seeing under that. Which happens 90% of the time when you play as her. It makes it really awkward when the finger swipe/arrow flashes on the screen as well… Oh, Sega… Why..?

Seriously, they should just switch her outfit to the one in Sonic Riders. It’s cute, and doesn’t show anything, and is well suited for athletics.

5SOS Pref: They Talk About You/Your Relationship In An Interview


“So, be honest here. What’s Calum and (y/n) really like?” the interviewer raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips once Calum reacted by squirming and blushing. “Is it really just friendship?” she pressed on as she gestured at the small screen beside them, a video montage of the pictures of you and Calum playing. 
“Hey, when did that happen?” Luke pointed at the particular touchy picture of you two at the park. You were both sitting on a bench, you sitting sideways and your legs outstretched across his lap, his eyes on both your hands that were intwined with his and you were smiling at him. 
“They’re cute, hey?” Ashton mused, loving how red Calum’s tan skin was getting. 
“We’re just friends.” Calum stated, his hands covering his face as he tried to rid of the color off of his cheeks. 
“That’s not what your cheeks are saying.” Michael’s eyebrows were raised. “Calum and (y/n) are the definition of skinny love, to be honest.”
“We are not!” Calum protested in a whiny tone.
“You are too.” Luke rolled his eyes. “It’s adorable though, ‘cause they’re in their little world and they think nobody knows about their weekly movie nights and their sleepovers and their little frozen yogurt dates." 
"And (y/n) doesn’t even like froyo.” Ashton giggled.
“Yes she does!” Calum protested, despite his furrowed brows.
“No she doesn’t, mate. She just goes with it 'cause she knows it’s your favorite. Trust me, we know.” Luke rolled his eyes, as if this piece of information is the most obvious thing in the world (which it kinda is).
“And now the whole world does too.” the interviewer grinned happily, satisfied that she got the dirt.


“So, Luke, it might be still a touchy subject, but how is (y/n)? the fans kind of miss her.” she gestured at her small cue cards that hold the tweets from fans. 
“Oh, um-it’s not a touchy subject at all.” he nervously laughed. The boys raised their eyebrow in worry once they heard Luke’s voice go higher, something he does when he’s lying. “She’s uhh-you know…” he trailed off. “To be honest, I don’t quite know.” he sighed, defeated.
“They haven’t been talking.” Ashton answered quietly, his big brother instincts kicking in, knowing that Luke was having a hard time keeping it together without you.
“The break up’s rough?” the interviewer ignored how uncomfortable everyone looked.
“Heartbreak’s never easy.” Luke’s eyes drifted around, avoiding any eye contact with everyone. “I don’t particularly know if it’s any easier for her but however she’s doing, I hope she’s well.” Luke’s voice broke.
“(y/n), if you’re watching this, we all miss you. It’d be great if you’d talk to us.” Calum spoke up, his tone sheepish as he looked at the other boys for approval, knowing that he had to be careful with his words.
“You can avoid Luke,” Michael playfully pushed Luke’s shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. “But we can’t stand not talking to you.” he smiled sheepishly at the camera.
“So you were all close with (y/n), then?” the interviewer’s chin was high in inquiry.
“Of course, (y/n)’s a sweetheart. She’s a great girl.” Ashton gave a weak smile at the interviewer, earning a nod in reply.
“She is,” Luke breathed. “The next guy to have her will be incredibly lucky.”


“So are you all actually aware of the hate (y/n)’s been getting or are you all just ignoring it?” the interviewer tucked her hands under her chin as if she was really interested. 
“About that…” Ashton drifted off and giggled awkwardly.
“Actually, we are aware, and I’m grad-a-pissed about it but (y/n) won’t let me stand up for her.” Michael said in a sharp tone, as if containing his anger towards his fans. 
“She’s a proper bad ass, she doesn’t care.” Luke shrugged, a smile on his lips from the memory of you going “meh, who cares.” once the boys showed you what your twitter mentions looked like.
“She doesn’t?” the interviewer raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“No, she doesn’t.” Michael smirked at the camera, as if saying 'ha' to the fans. “But it doesn’t justify what the fans are saying. You guys think it’s hurting her but to be honest, she doesn’t even check her mentions and instead, sometimes I do because I care. You guys are my fans and sorry not sorry, it’s kind of embarrassing that I have to apologize for my own fans’s behavior.”
“We agree.” Calum nodded his head vigorously. “We love you all to death but death threats and hate are not punk rock.”
“Basically, all we’re saying is that you guys are cool, but y'all need to back off when it comes to hate towards (y/n).” Michael put it simply. 


“So, do these tweets look familiar to you, Ashton?” the interviewer gestured to his tweets to you on the screen. “(y/n)’s so goddamn talented." she read out. Ashton’s eyes widened as he pursed his lips in an 'oops’ manner. ”@(y/t/n) where do i buy tickets to your heart ;)“ she read aloud.
"Winky face means business, I’m tellin ya.” Michael teased, slightly nudging Ashton.
“So, celebrity crush, yes?” the interviewer smirked. 
“Well how could the answer not be yes, she’s beautiful.” he sighed in defeat. “She’ll never notice me, though. Her band’s like the royalty of punk rock,” he giggled. “I’m a newbie, I have no chance.” he blushed.
“I’m a little offended.” Calum scoffed playfully. “We might be newbies but we’re cool too!”
“Yeah but we’re 5 seconds of summer cool, she’s (y/n) cool.” Ashton went doe-eyed, resulting the boys to roll their eyes at their band mate. 
“Well don’t lose hope, 'cause I think we may be able to get you two talking to each other.” the interviewer drummed her fingers on her lap excitedly. 
“Wha-you could? How?” Ashton’s eyes were doe as his eyes darted quickly to the screen the interviewer was pointing at again. The screen began brightening and a video of you started playing. 
“Hey babes, it’s (y/n).” you waved, giggling lightly until your face contorted in disgust. “Ugh, no, babes sounds weird. Cut! Cut? Please?” the image of you giving a puppy face made the boys laugh and Ashton watch in awe. 
“Keep going!” you heard someone from behind the camera say.
“Well, that’s a great first impression. Anyways, hey Ashton, I saw your tweets and wanted to make the reply a little more personal. I heard you’ve been supporting me and my band since the beginning and maybe I could thank you face to face? I followed you on twitter and we can DM each other? Bye, love.” you blew a kiss at the camera and the screen went blank. 
Before the interviewer could say anything, Ashton was already whipping his phone out of his pocket to see that you, @(y/t/n) did indeed followed him back. 

The Queen and her Men

So, with all the discussion of of Caroline and Enzo’s growing friendship and how amazing it would be to have Enzo in NOLA, I’d thought I try my hand at seeing what Klaroline with a heavy dose of Carenzo friendship would look like. Enjoy!

The bar was crammed with people, humans and vampires, drinks spilling and laughter ringing out, but one corner, where the bodies pressed so close a slip of paper couldn’t fit through; that corner was silent, hushed as the small huddle leaned in close to hear every word of the story being regaled to them with much gusto.

“And that is how I escaped the clutches of the Augustine society and killed every last bastard who had anything to do with them.” Enzo lifted the glass of bourbon to his lips, downing the drink and slamming it back on the table with relish, a perfect end to the lurid tale he’d been entertaining the young vampires with. Newbies to the city were always ready to hear some good legends and more than willing to buy a round if it meant they got to hear a tale firsthand.

“What about the Originals?” asked one of them, a boy probably no older than nineteen, (vampire or not). “I heard you knew them personally?”

“Well I can’t say I go way back with the Mikaelsons, but the ‘Queen’ of this lovely town – “ He was interrupted by the ringing of his phone and he held it up to see a familiar blonde’s name on the screen. “Speak of the devil,” he said, smirking at his companions who were watching him curiously. Holding up a finger to silence them, he leant back, answering the ring.

“Hello Gorgeous! I was just telling some new friends all about – “

“Where are you?”

He frowned, his grin dropping. Usually, when Caroline called him she was cheerful or scolding (usually scolding) but there were some nights when her voice was laced with melancholy, or hard-edged with white-hot rage. Those nights always proved to be a little difficult, but nothing like the times when her voice was flat, emotionless, those were the nights Enzo hated because he never knew what to expect – and he never knew if he could help.

Her voice was flat tonight.

“Rousseau’s,” he answered quickly and the line went dead, leaving him to stare at the phone, a frown on his face and an unpleasant feeling in his gut. His audience stared at him expectantly but he wasn’t willing to give answers, not about Caroline, and certainly not to strangers. “Party’s over,” he told them curtly and waved off their disappointed faces, turning his attention to the head of blonde curls he could see over the crowd. It didn’t take her long to find him and when she did, one patented death glare at the flock of newborns had them scattering, though they couldn’t help but shoot her curious glances over their shoulder, wondering just what had the ‘Queen’ so riled up.

“Evening, Gorgeous,” said Enzo smoothly as Caroline slid into the booth next to him. She didn’t reply, simply shot him a ‘look’ that had him waving over another young blonde.

“Goldilocks number two, we’ll need two bourbons, neat,” he ordered. Camille rolled her eyes, but complied, brining over the drinks and slamming them down with more force than necessary.

“Do you have to be a jackass?” she asked, before noticing Caroline take a glass and down it in one gulp. “Wow, Caroline, you okay?”

Camille was met by a scowl that had her scurrying off to another customer while Enzo watched the exchange with a quirked brow. “Alright darling, spit it out, what’s got you in such a foul mood? Are you going to tell me or just glare at everyone all night?”

Caroline’s lips pressed together tightly, as if she wanted to snap at him but held back, finally letting out a deep breath and dropping her head back against the leather seat. “It’s Klaus.”

“Well, I surmised that much,” said Enzo over his glass, but she didn’t crack a smile, simply closed her eyes in frustration.

“We had a fight.”

“What’s he done now?”

Caroline’s lips tugged upwards, just a little. “How do you know it’s him?”


She laughed humorlessly, “Yeah, I’ll give you that.” Again, she sighed, before continuing. “You know how Klaus is the only hybrid, after Tyler was turned back?”

Enzo nodded, “I do seem to recall him telling a very long winded story about a curse and a sacrifice, go on.”

“Well, he wants more.”

“More – hybrids?”

“Yes!” Suddenly she was animated, her eyes filling with fire and while he doesn’t envy Klaus (having Caroline angry at you is never pleasant), it’s better to see her angry than depressed.

Her hands fluttered, her face contorting as she spoke animatedly; “First he wants a city – wait, sorry, he wants a kingdom – and all the loyal followers that come with it, so he happily starts a supernatural war here, nearly kicked me out because it was too dangerous, and then when it’s peaceful and he’s a freaking king he’s not happy anymore! He wants ‘true comrades’, what the fuck does that even mean?!”

“I suppose he means he wants more of his kind – “ Enzo dropped the sentence, realizing he had said the wrong thing when Caroline turned that infamous glare of hers on him  and he knew it was time to shut up.

“But where does it end? He wanted a city, he got it, he wanted followers, he got them, he wanted me – “ she broke off, taking another breath. “He wanted me, and I’m here. When does it stop?” By the time she asked her last question, her voice had lowered to a whisper and she wasn’t looking him in the eye anymore, a tell-tale sign of her nervousness, one Enzo had never liked.

“For what it’s worth darling, your boyfriend seems like a man who likes to have a mission,” said Enzo choosing his words carefully, “I suppose he’ll always want a little more.”

Caroline said nothing, just propped her elbows on the table and dropped her face into her hands. “Why am I not enough?” she asked, her voice muffled. He had no response to offer, but Enzo watched her like a hawk, growing more and more agitated the longer she remained silent. After a moment, she pulled away, turning her face away from him sharply, but there was no way to disguise her hand swiping over her face quickly, the tell-tale sign of her hiding evidence of her tears.

Eyes narrowing, Enzo grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back so that she had to face him, jaw clenching at the sight of her reddened eyes. “Excuse me Goldilocks,” he said brusquely, getting to his feet and pushing strangers out of the way as he marched towards the exit. He can clearly hear Caroline yelling after to him to stop, used to his methods, but as usual, he didn’t heed her.

There was a hybrid he needed to have a word with.


Another glass of scotch burned its way down Klaus’ throat, his finger flexing against the fine crystal, itching to throw it into the wall. It would hardly be the first that night. The image of Caroline turning on her heel and marching out of the room he was in still played vividly in his mind, her curls dancing after her, hands clenched tightly by her sides. He nurtured the idea of running after her but she needed time to calm down, before she came back.

At least, he hoped she came back.

The glass did hit the wall then, shattering into shards as Klaus clenched his teeth and imagined himself tracking down Caroline and dragging her back. Not that it would endear her to him any further, but the thought of her leaving forever…

A life without Caroline would be painful to say the least, but what he didn’t anticipate was the stab of actual pain as he buckled over, looking down to see a wooden stake protruding from his stomach. He didn’t know who was so foolish as to try killing him, and frankly he didn’t care why, but he did manage to find his voice.

“You are aware I can’t be killed with ordinary wood?” he spat, spinning around to meet and annoyingly familiar face.

“No, but I was hoping I might slow you down long enough to do this,” replied Enzo, punching Klaus square in the jaw. Any other vampire might have gone flying, but Klaus’ head simply snapped to the side.

Snarling, Klaus ripped the stake from his body and turned towards the biggest thorn in his side, the man who doggedly maintained an irritatingly close friendship with Caroline, and who took no heed of any veiled threats to remove himself from her acquaintance. “Lorenzo,” he growled out, wasting no time before grabbing the younger vampire by the neck and pinning him up against the nearest wall, “have you completely lost your mind?”

To his annoyance, Enzo simply gave a grim smile, unaffected by his precarious position. “Sorry mate. But that was for Caroline.”

For Caroline. Klaus’s jaw clenched tighter, gripping the stake Enzo had used on him.  “And why exactly is Caroline so important to you?” Klaus asked, his voice edged with frustration. This was hardly the  first time he’d voiced the question.

“I thought you of all people would recognize the importance of loyalty,” said Enzo determinedly, and that was enough for Klaus’ restraint to snap, he raised the stake and brought it down, aiming right for the heart –


The stake was lodged just an inch into Enzo’s chest, not close enough to the heart to do any damage, much to Klaus’ chagrin. He itched to push it further, but ignoring Caroline tonight would not end well for their relationship. Summoning the last ounce of self-control he had, he stepped away from Enzo, letting him slump to the floor, glaring up at him.

“Nice timing Goldilocks,” said Enzo with a grunt, pushing himself to his feet and removing the stake.

“Enzo, get out,” muttered Caroline, knowing he would hear and take the hint. Watching Klaus warily, she looked over Enzo to make sure no lasting damage had occurred and returned his quiet nod, a silent communication that assured him she’d be fine.

Once he left, Klaus let out a sharp breath. “Quite the guard dog you have there, love,” he said bitingly, marching back towards the decanter of bourbon on a side table.

“Seriously, you’re going to call someone else a ‘dog’?” she asked, crossing her arms and preparing for round two of their argument.

“Quite loyal, ready to fight on your behalf,” continued Klaus as if he hadn’t heard her, “it’s almost sweet.” The bitterness in his voice betrayed how he really felt about Enzo’s loyal tendencies, and Caroline just rolled her eyes at his petty jealously.

“You know for a fact he doesn’t like me like that,” she said, but Klaus was still unconvinced.

“Are you so sure? The man lives in your apartment – “

“The apartment I’m never in because I spend all my time here,” said Caroline pointedly, and Klaus deflated somewhat, knowing she was right. However irritated he got that Enzo and Caroline were such good friends, it didn’t take away from the fact that Caroline spent nearly every night in his bed, often with his name on her lips.

“He interferes too much,” Klaus muttered, but Caroline just rolled her eyes again.

“He’s looking out for me, and you know it. Enzo doesn’t like it when I – never mind,” she said quickly shaking her head.

“No, continue,” said Klaus, hating that she had ducked her head away from him. He liked to think that they were getting to the point where they were past secrets, where he knew all there was to know about Caroline, everything detail that made her the beautiful person she was.

“He sort of – overreacts when I cry,” said Caroline, shrugging it off and praying Klaus didn’t perceive it as another threat that his alpha-male personality needed to deal with, but instead he flashed over to stand in front of her, taking her by the shoulders, his face showing something she was rarely witness to – regret.

“I made you cry?” he asked quietly and Caroline sighed, feeling all her anger from earlier dissipate.

“I was angry, I was frustrated,” she admitted, “don’t worry, it’s not like I was a weeping mess.”

“Still,” Klaus insisted, “I never wanted to be someone responsible for your tears, sweetheart.”

He’s so sincere, she knows, so it’s only fair to meet him halfway. “I know Klaus,” she said, gently but still tired from what they had argued about. “But hybrids? Really? You have everything.”

“It’s just something to try, love,” he said carefully, not wanting to rehash their earlier quarrel.

Caroline broke away from him but didn’t go far, sitting down on one of the leather couches and looking up at him, framed by the firelight. “Klaus, you hunted down a way to make hybrids for centuries. What if that happens again?”

He cocked his head to the side, kneeling down in front of her, taking his hands in his. “Caroline, I have centuries to spare, I’m an Original, what are you afraid of?”

She stared down at him sadly. “What’s happens when you get obsessed?”

“Who says that I – “

“Because I know what happens when people get obsessed, Klaus,” she said quickly. “My mom was obsessed with her job, Tyler was obsessed with revenge – when people get obsessed, they leave.”

That was in then, the insecurity at the heart of all of this. Caroline averted her gaze from him, choosing instead to stare at the flames while Klaus stared at her, realizing the root of her fear.

“Love, look at me,” he commanded quietly, waiting until she finally faced him. “The chances the witches will find anything of substance is slim. The chances of me leaving you are unthinkable.” Caroline opened her mouth to rebut but he cut her off. “Should I ever find a way to make more hybrids, then I have you,” he squeezed her hands tightly, “to pull me back from the brink. You and that bloody guard dog of yours,” he added with a smirk.

He was satisfied to see a smile on her lips and the light come back to her eyes, but it occurs to him that Enzo’s presence would be more of a deterrent from his more obsessive tendencies than she even knew. The other vampire may not have any intentions towards the beautiful blonde for now, but Klaus knew his lingering suspicions would be more than enough to never want to be far from Caroline for long.

It looked like the arrogant prick would be good for something after all.

Her fears assuaged for at least that night, Caroline grinned wider and leant down, pecking Klaus on the lips, chastely enough to have him leaning forward for more. Pulling away to see his pouting face, she laughed, “Since we had a fight, I think it’s time to make it up to me, don’t you?” she asked coyly.

Klaus simply raised his eyebrows. “Me? If I remember you correctly, a modern relationship entails compromise, no?”

Caroline smirked and stood up with him, wrapping her hands around his neck and playing with the curls and the nape of his neck. “Why don’t we take this upstairs and we can both take turns apologizing?”

His response is to grin wolfishly and capture her lips in a proper searing kiss, pouring out an apology and his jealously all at once. Without leaving her lips he pulled her into his arms, letting her legs wrap around his waist as he flashed them upstairs.

It was never nice when they fought – but somehow, they always managed to bounce back.


Back in paradise goldilocks?

We’re all good. Still hurt?

My pride will heal.

Ur an idiot. Thank you.

Enzo smiled down at his phone before pocketing it. Anyone else would think she wasn’t all that grateful, but he knew better. Signaling Camille for another refill, he turned back to his earlier audience, all of whom looked ready and eager to hear more.

“Alright folks,” he said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Who wants to hear a love story?”


Inspired by the song ‘Toothbrush’ by DNCE

Stuck in a limbo
Half hypnotized
Each time I let you stay the night, stay the night

“You are way too drunk to drive!” you giggled as you quickly snatched his keys away, dropping them into your purse.

“Oh come on, [Y/N]! I’m fiiiiiiiiinnneeeeee!” Harry whined as he almost fell over as he was trying to reach for his keys. 

“Oh no, no, no. Come on, tough guy. I’ll drive you home.” You smile and grab his arm, leading him towards his car. 

It wasn’t often that Harry and you got to go out and party. He was constantly busy with work and you had your job to focus on. It was nice to have him home for a few weeks before he had to jump back on the road for a few months. While he was gone, you normally stuck around the house, so it was nice to be able to go out and party. He felt the same way. You knew work stressed him out sometimes so it was nice to see him loosen up and have fun, even if that meant you had to deal with a drunk Harry all night. 

After what seemed like forever, the two of you finally reached his home. Every time you came over you were always amazed how big it was. You always wondered how someone could live alone in such a large place. 

“Alright Styles.I’m trusting you’ll be okay by yourself?” You ask as you hang his keys up and help him take off his shoes. 

“[Y/N], why don’t you just stay and keep me company?” 

He loved you but he would never admit it, unless he was drunk. He looked at you like you were the only person who ever mattered to him. It was like he was in a trance whenever you came over. It was more noticeable when he was like this, but still. You knew he had a bad break-up recently and so did you. You would only admit it to yourself, but you loved him just as much as he loved you. 

“We go through this every time, you’re just drunk and lonely.”

“Then stay and be lonely with me…” He stepped closer to you and gently placed a hand on your waist.  

“What the hell…” You were drunk too and you probably needed him as much as he needed you.

The two of you stumble upstairs, clothes being carelessly tossed aside as you both fall onto the bed. Maybe it was the alcohol, but no one had ever kissed you like he kissed you in that moment. You had done this with him a lot recently. It was safe to say that you and him had become friends with benefits, and you were okay with that. He treated you like a goddess, making sure that every touch was gently, never harsh. You meant the world to him, even though he would never admit it. 

He was now on top of you, moving from your lips to your neck. You tilt your head to the side to allow him more access. Wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, you moan softly as he starts to trail down your body. You part your legs slowly as he starts to leave small kisses on your inner thighs. The kisses start moving closer to your heat and the moans start to get louder. Making sure to be gentle, he slowly inserts two fingers into your core, gently wiggling them around as he  starts tolick your clit. Knowing how much it drives you crazy, he starts humming against your clit. The vibrations from his lips made you cum almost instantly.

“Mmmm, Harry! Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” 

The phrase drove him crazy, causing him to go faster until your juices were gushing into his mouth and down his chin. You pull him up as your kiss him deeply. 

“I think it’s your turn..” 

You quickly get on top of him, kissing him as your hold up his member, gently sitting down on his lap. Loud groans leave his lips as you start to rock back and fourth on him. Something about his low groans and growls turned you on instantly. As you started to pick up the pace, you saw his fingers dig into the sheets before they move to your hips. While you go faster his nails dig deeper into you and you were about to lose it so you tried to slow yourself down so the two of you could cum at the same time. 

“Mm [Y/N].. m’gonna cum! Ahh fuck you feel so good!”

And with those last words and moans the two of you came at the same time. His nails were in your hips and yours scratched up his chest. You collapse down next to him, both of you breathing heavily. He looked so lovely in this moment, You lean over and kiss him a few more times before the truth came out.

“I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.” 

Up in the morning
Tangled in sheets
We play the moment on repeat, on repeat

It did not take long for you to fall asleep with a smile on your face that night. In the morning, the sun greeted you with it’s bring rays. Groaning, you pull the blanket up over your head before noticing that Harry was still next to you, You legs were interlocked with his and you could only find half of the sheet. It took you a moment before you realized that 1) you were pretty hungover and 2) you were pretty sure that you admitted to Harry that you loved him last night. 

You kept replaying what happened and why you would of said that. Maybe it was the booze or maybe you were tired of hiding the truth from him. Regardless, you couldn’t stop thinking about how he said it back to you. Was it a love, love? or maybe he loved you just a friend? All of these questions started running through your head and you weren’t sure how to react to anything anymore. 

Trying not to freak out, you sat up and looked around for your underwear and the closest shirt to you, which happened to be the one he was wearing the night before. You head downstairs and put on the coffee and took a seat in his kitchen. You looked at the clocked and realized that you were not going into work today. once the coffee was done, you took a few deep breaths before headed back upstairs.

When you’re standing there in your underwear
And my T-shirt from the night before
With your messed up hair
And your feet still bare
Would you mind closing the bedroom door

Good morning, love.” He sat up and smiled as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Hi.” You couldn’t help but smile as he looked at his. His eyes were soft and his smile warm. “I think that we should talk about what happened last night…”

“Me too, why don’t you come in and shut the door?” 

With a deep breath you came into the room, gently closing the door behind you. You head over back to the bed and crawl into it, resting your head on your chest as he stroked your hair.

“I meant what I said last night. I know I was drunk and I know you were too, but that’s when the truth comes out, right? I have trying to keep it to myself ever since I left for tour last year. You always went on dates with shitty guys and I kept trying to prove to you that I was the only one you needed. Then this friends with benefits started happening and I kept my mouth shut because it was another way to get closer to you. You are over all the time and I love it. I mean when I saw you in the doorway just now I realised that I want to see that every morning.. I love you, [Y/N].”

You couldn’t help but smile when he said that. Kissing his cheek, you gently grabbed his hand, stroking your thumb over his knuckles. 

“I love you too. The only reason I was with all those other guys is because I wanted to make you jealous… You always get to hang around really pretty girls and then there’s me… I wish you would of told me, that would of saved a lot of heartache.” You smile as he kisses your temple. 

You glance at the clock one more time before realizing what time it was. 

“I know that I’m not going into work today, but I should probably get going before my flatmate starts to wonder where I am.”

“Why an’t you just stay? We an lay around for a bit, watch some movies?”

“I’d love to, but I really should shower… I reek of booze.”

Baby you don’t have to rush
You can leave a toothbrush
At my place

“What if you just showered here? You can leave an extra pair of clothes and even a toothbrush here!” He smiled as he pulled you back down next to him.

“I don’t know..”

“Oh come on, you are always in a rush. Why don’t we just take a day to lay around and relax? You already have the outfit on. Plus I know that we both have pretty shitty hangovers.”

You giggle and shake your head, finally giving in. Everything you could of ever wanted was finally coming true. It had been a while since you had felt this happy. 

The two of you spent the whole day in bed, watching movies, playing games, and napping. You explained to your flatmate what had happened and you had promised to tell her everything when you got home that night. 

Whenever he got the chance, Harry would give you lazy kisses throughout the day. He had finally won your heart and there was no way that he was going to let that slip through his fingers. 

“I know you.”

“And I love you. Always have, always will.”

*A/N – This is my first image ever! Its not as good as I want it to be, but I still think it’s pretty good. Your feedback is always welcome and encouraged!!!*

iracher  asked:

OOOOOH! FenrisxFemHawke, art college AU :D * plsplspls:3 * (p.s. I dunno I just like to make AU for this pairing, and college and rock band are my fav right now ^^")

ugh, sorry, it’s really quick and abrupt, and i know characters in these types of aus are supposed to be glamorous hipsters, but I can’t physically write Fenris into it, so…

And they say there are no heroes in this age, Erica Hawke thinks, drawing boobs and mabari puppies in her notebook and trying to get used to a heavy stench of smoke. The smell of cheap cigarettes is coming from a monster from whom she is heroically saving people right now. Doing a group project with the Gargoyle is a no small deed. Gargoyle is the twitchy tevinter guy, who’s called that because he is constantly hunched over, wears same ugly old grey hoodie the size of an elephant tent with hood always up and spends breaks crouched on the roof. Also he inexplicably has a reputation of being a jerk, even though he never talks to anybody. Adding the fact that he smells like a walking ashtray, it’s really of no surprise that there was a small commotion, because nobody wanted to be paired up with him.

Keep reading