so confused if i like this picture or completely hate it

Adding to canon is not the same thing as destroying canon

At San Diego Comic Con, we learned that Sonequa Martin-Green’s character, Michael Burnham, is Sarek’s adoptive daughter. The second I heard the news, all I could think was, “Let the hate begin.” And boy, did it ever.

I understand the disappointment, particularly with fan fic writers who invested a lot of time and effort into crafting stories that fit neatly into canon. Amazing how one sound bite can bulldoze right through decades of widely accepted fanon, huh?

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Todrick Hall speaks out about Taylor Swift video backlash

Yahoo Music: So when some people saw you dancing in “Look What You Made Me Do,” they were not pleased, to put it mildly. What exactly happened?

Todrick Hall: They saw a clip, just a few seconds, that featured Taylor Swift standing in a line of dancers, and they started forming all types of conclusions. I was just very confused by that, because I knew that there was nothing “Formation”-esque or Lemonade-esque about the video. Artistically, I didn’t feel that was the case. I’m a humongous Beyoncé fan. I’ve worked with Beyoncé. I’ve choreographed for Beyoncé. And I would never intentionally be a part of art that I felt was ripping off my favorite artist of all time. But I felt like these were two completely different lanes.

“Sellout” was one of the common names you were called.

Yes, one of the main things that people said was, “He wanted to make his money. Well, good for him, he got paid. And I guess payment is enough for you to sell out your family, your people, your community.” But this had nothing to do with money. I didn’t do this Taylor Swift video for money. I did it because she’s my friend, and she was very excited about it. And she wanted people to be there who she could trust, because it was a very big undertaking. I was proud to be there, but money was not a factor for me. I don’t do things for money.

But there are people online who have a problem with the fact in general that you and Taylor are friends?

Yes, I have gotten comments from people who are upset and have literally said the fact that I am friends with a white person is a problem, because white people don’t possess the ability to love or ever truly care about black people. And I find that very disheartening. I’ve grown up in a neighborhood where I went to church with and lived with and went to school with beautiful black people; when I look at them, I see myself. But then I was also in a peculiar situation, because I danced in a dance group where I was the only black person in the dance studio. In some cases, I was the only black cheerleader in my school. I did theater where I was the only black person, the “token black person.” And working at Disney, oftentimes I was the only black person in the show at Disney World or Disneyland on any given day. And I also did tours where I was the only black singer; I did a cruise ship where I was the only black person in the cast. So I’ve been used to being in situations where I’ve had to find friendships and find love and find similarities. My whole brand, everything that I stand for and everything I’ve always stood for, is equality and love. So it’s just really difficult for me to understand why it is an issue for people, a legitimate issue, that I have white friends, and that Taylor Swift happens to be one of my many white friends.

Apparently there’s a thing called the “cookout,” which is like your invitation to be a part of the black community. Some people have, like, deemed themselves the Woke Police, and they decide to strip you online of your invitation to attend the “cookout.” It boggles my mind that people are deciding whether or not I’m down enough, black enough, or woke enough to be “invited.” If I have to hate people and judge people based on their race, sexual orientation, or religion, then sorry, but I’d rather order pizza.

What is Taylor really like? Describe your bond.

What people are mostly forgetting is that Taylor Swift really is my friend. Sometimes because she is a celebrity of such a huge status, inarguably one of the biggest stars of our generation, people forget that there is a human side to her, that she has real friends that she calls and talks to about her real problems. And I call her, and I have cried on her shoulder about my own relationship issues and family issues and career issues. We are friends, and so when she asked me to do this video, I said absolutely. It wasn’t a question for me. I trust her, and I had no problem doing the video. And I just think that it’s really sad and shocking that me doing four eight-counts of choreography is enough to make people feel the need to question my “blackness” or “wokeness.”

Taylor came to see me in Kinky Boots and she stayed after the show for two hours and met every single person in that cast — took pictures, signed stuff, met every usher, every custodian, every orchestra member, every producer and their kids. And then she went outside and met fans outside the theater afterwards, stayed there for over two and a half hours after the show and wouldn’t leave until every single person had been met. There are just very few celebrities in the world who would do something like that. She didn’t have to do that. She could’ve come to the show, said hi to me, and left. That’s just what type of person she is, and what type of person she’s always been. Her parents raised her so well, and when you’re in the room with them, you can feel that energy.

It just is shocking to me that people will see an image of her and hear stories online about her, or arguments with other celebrities who she did not ask to be involved with, who recorded her against her will without her knowing and then decided to release six-second clips of a conversation that happened to paint her to be this evil person that I don’t believe that she is. Come on, we’ve watched millions of episodes of Law & Order or seen Judge Judy a million times; how are they not able to conclude that there is something missing from this? If you feel the need to record someone on video with people there, the intentions may not have been the most pure.

Some of the criticism Taylor has received recently has to do with the fact that she has not been politically outspoken in past years, like some of her peers Katy Perry or Lady Gaga.

Yeah, many people have been tweeting me, “She supports Trump! She probably voted for Trump!” They’re making this huge assumption, when Taylor has never to my knowledge come out and said anything about her being pro-Trump. But people would still rather believe that she is the one who is pushing Trump’s agenda. That was one of the major things that was tweeted at me, and I’m like, “So you are mad that you think she might support Donald Trump? But you’re not mad that Kanye has been very openly pro-Trump?” I don’t understand that.

Look, I’m not Taylor Swift, so I can’t speak for her and why she does or does not choose to speak or not speak about any specific subject matter. All I know is that she has been nothing but a great person to me. Her family has welcomed me into their home and treated me like I was a member of the family. They’ve welcomed every single person I’ve ever brought around them. I’ve never felt like there was ever a moment that I couldn’t be myself, and talk about the fact that I’m gay or whatever. At Thanksgiving, we all sat around and talked about it, and there was another one of her friends there who was African-American, and we all sat down and talked about racism and watched 13th on Netflix and talked about how important it was. It was one of the most beautiful conversations I’ve ever had, because sometimes as an African-American person I feel like I can’t voice my opinion about how difficult it is to be not just an African-American person in the entertainment industry, but how scary it is to be black in America, in even 2017.

When it comes to Taylor, all I know is that she has been a sweet, amazing human being to me. When she calls me, it’s hardly ever to talk about her accomplishments or things that she’s going through. She calls me and says, “How’s your heart? Are you OK?” I’ve been around her an awful lot, and if it were some type of crazy, fake façade, I think I would have figured it out by now. I feel like it’s a genuine part of who she is, and she’s a human being. Has she made mistakes? Yes. Will she make mistakes again? Yes. But let the person in America who has not made mistakes raise their hand.

I think that I’m on my own journey; every artist is on their own journey. Maybe one day, Taylor will start being super-political, and using her voice to do thing that people think that she should be doing. But even then, she will probably be ridiculed for not being vocal enough, or not being on the right side. I don’t think that there is a way to win in this industry, so every person has to take their own journey at their own pace, at their own time, and do what they feel like is right. All I know is that Taylor has been nothing but sweet to me since day one, and if she asks me to do a video, I’m absolutely going be there.

I’m not apologizing for being a part of the video and doing four eight-counts of choreography in it. I thought it was a great piece of art. I thought it was awesome. It’s broken so many records and I’m proud to be a part of it. I don’t think I’ve sold out my race or my community — the gay community, the black community. I think that I was just in a piece of art that my friend made. I’m not issuing a statement to people about it to explain myself, because there’s nothing to explain. I’m not sorry that I did it, and I don’t think that it was a mistake. If I had a do-over, I would absolutely be there for another eight hours, in heels, dancing with her.

Is Taylor aware of the heat you’ve gotten for being in her video?

I have talked to her about it, and she has been very uplifting and given me a lot of information about how when you’re doing big things, there will always be people who have something to say about it. But I think that Beyoncé gave me the best advice when I met her. She said, “Don’t scroll down. Don’t go down and look at comments, and when you do something as an artist, make a decision and stick to it. You don’t need to apologize for things that you’ve done.” I use that all the time.

You have gotten this sort of criticism before.

Yeah. In the beginning, it was because I did videos based on stereotypes of a particular group that put people in a negative light. And so I took those notes, because I consider myself to be a humble person, and I tried to apply them, and tried to do less work on my YouTube channel that stereotyped people, less work that stereotyped my race as being “ghetto” or “ratchet,” because I did understand the argument. I think it’s a really difficult thing when you toe the line with comedy, because there are certain things that some people are going to think is funny, but then some people are always going to be offended. The political climate has changed so much over the past months since Donald Trump became president, and it has just been a very scary place to create content online. So I tried to do whatever I can to create content that everyone can love and that is inclusive of everybody.

It’s just something that I deal with every day. I wrote an album about my life [Straight Outta Oz], about how I fell in love at 19 years old with a boy who was British and who just happened to be white. I wrote a song called “Color,” and in the song I say the line, “You’re my favorite hue.” What I meant by that when I wrote the song was it’s supposed to be a direct relation to the 1939 Wizard of Oz film, and then everything turns to color when Dorothy gets to Oz. I felt like my whole world was black and white before I met this person. But people took that as that white was my favorite color, and that was what I preferred. People have assumed that am the type of person that refuses to date people of my own race or associate with people of my own race. Which, I don’t feel the need to prove to them that I have in fact dated multiple black men and Puerto Rican, Latino men. I’m an equal opportunist when it comes to love. I think everyone is beautiful. You fall in love with a person, not the outer layer of skin.

It’s really frustrating because I don’t think that people realize that when I got to L.A., I lived in not a great neighborhood. A policeman drove up onto a sidewalk, got out of the car, pushed my face on the ground, put my hands on my back, pulled a gun out on me. I have never felt so scared in my entire life. I have witnessed so many things like that. It’s very difficult for me to go and spend time in a predominantly Caucasian neighborhood without the cops being called on me, because people don’t know why I’m there and they think I look suspicious. I have had a lot of issues and dealt with racism in the same capacity as a lot of other people. I have written so many songs, even on Straight Outta Oz, about the Black Lives Matter movement, because it’s something that I’m very passionate about. It’s something that I definitely use my voice and my platform to speak out against. So it’s frustrating that people who have never met me in person like to make huge, incorrect assumptions about me and go and scream them and yell them from the rooftops online.

I just strongly feel that if we can’t get along within our own race, and have to point fingers and yell at people who we think don’t have our back when we don’t know anything about them — we haven’t listened to the facts, we haven’t seen the footage, there are no receipts to show that this person is not a proud African-American person who isn’t down to fight for equality for everyone’s sake — if we fight with each other so much that we’re tearing down our own race and our own community, how does that make us any better than the people in Charlottesville, carrying the tiki torches? How are we any better than those people, and how are we ever going to meet in the middle and finally be able to say, “Let’s be one unified group of people”? I just don’t understand how it’s possible, and that what makes me so upset.

Online outrage is at an all-time high right now, for sure. Everyone is on edge.

I think that we’ve got to figure out a way within our own community to stop tearing people down and stop making assumptions and looking for reasons to be mad. I don’t know what is happening in the world right now, but now is a scary time. People are looking for someone to blame and someone to point fingers at. I don’t think that Taylor Swift is the problem with America right now. People can try to make that be the issue, but there is a much bigger issue here in our country that we need to look at and recognize, and figure out what we can do to be a part of making the world a better place, to be nice and sweet and kind to each other, and to realize that racism is a huge horrible thing that has kept a lot of people down.

But I think it’s going to take every race, every minority, every gay person, every trans person, every straight person, waking up and realizing that we can’t do this alone. We can’t divide into our own little sections and decide that we’re going to secretly hate each other and be mad if one person goes over and shakes the hand of somebody on the other team. We all need to be one team. We all have to go out and extend an olive branch to each other and try to help each other out and try to build one another up. That’s the only way that we can be successful. That’s the only way that we can make this world the beautiful place that God created it to be. Spread love, and love each other. That’s what I try to do.

Did you engage with any of your online critics about this video?

I gave no negative tweets, didn’t argue with people on social media, had nothing to say to them. But I even went so far as to give somebody my phone number online so they could call me and said, “If you feel I’ve done something that’s offended you, or if you could shed some light on as to how me being involved with this video or being friends with Taylor Swift — other than the fact that she is white and you feel that she is the epitome of white privilege, the poster child for white privilege … If there’s anything you can do to shed some light to me as to how I can be a better example for young African-American kids growing up, then I would love to talk to you on the phone.” And I meant it. And I talked to them, and I felt like we came to a good place. I’m a humble person; I’m not opposed to taking constructive criticism.

There was a time two years ago where I would’ve damn near gotten carpal tunnel because I would’ve stayed up all night trying to argue back and forth [on Twitter], thinking, “What would Regina George do?” Now I’m adopting the policy, “What would Beyoncé do?” So I’m going to kill all these people with kindness. I’m going to be nice to them, and I’m just going to prove to them, one by one when they meet me, what type of person I am. Support my friends, be nice to people, and do what I have to do to be a good human being and play my part in society and in this crazy political climate.

Obviously I’m not diminishing the horrible things that have happened to get us to this point, but at this point we have a choice to either band together and fight and talk about the real issues and the real problems, and Taylor Swift is not the problem. If we can all accept the fact that there is a bigger problem and start having dialogue and talking to each other — not just with the people that it’s comfortable for us to talk to, our own people and people who look like us, but to people who might not understand where we’re coming from or what we’ve been through — then we might get closer to making this world a unified place, the way that Michael Jackson sang about in his songs and in his music. While I know that is not the theme of “Look What You Made Me Do,” I do believe that is the theme of Taylor Swift’s heart and the person that she truly is on a personal level.

(x)

fake fake fake
  • the clip starts with eva talking about causeries: humorous written piece that, in english, can be referred to as “talk of the town”. eva says she’s not good at it while noora says she doesn’t even know what it is. 👀👀👀
  • even before sana starts focusing on the carrot munching, from the very first second of the clip, the audio has a slight echo to it. which could just be the staircase in which they’re in but i’d think that the team would fix it in post-prod. i feel like they left it because it gives a daydreaming quality to the scene and sana’s pov. from the start, she’s not really listening.
  • carrot munching from the trailer
  • i’ve seen people comment that noora is eating too loudly, that’s not what it is.
    firstly: have you ever managed to eat a carrot silently? and secondly: the shot is to show how much sana is annoyed by noora now. when you hate someone, you tend to find every single thing they do annoying. suddenly, they breathe too loud, eat too loud, are just generally gross.
  • in my attempt to find out if there was a word for this phenomenon other than misophonia (as i understand it, misophonia is when you’re hypersensitive to certain sounds regardless of the context or person…i was looking for a word for when it happens only when you hate someone), i discovered a video of 5mn of carrot munching noises. here it is if you want to die.
  • the mcdonald’s discourse
  • sana looks outside at sara, vilde, and laila and…
  • …i’ll come back to this image later.
  • as sana focuses on noora and eva joining the group, she tunes out the noise around her just as when in prayer or when she was looking at yousef’s facebook profile. it seems that the music from sigur rós is used here as it was used in the other focusing scenes.
  • isak literally gets his nose into other people’s business (and i feel that almost everyone noticed immediately, despite how little of the frame it takes, because of the reading sense)
  • again, we have isak trying to reach sana and he says exactly what’s on sana’s mind: “has sara stolen all your friends?”

[cont. after the “read more”]

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Not So Picture Perfect || Kian Lawley Imagine (Requested)

“Literally all I want to do is go home. I really don’t want to be here,” I told Callie as I worked on the gym elliptical.

“What, why? You love the gym. What’s wrong?”

“Kian flies out with Jc and Dom today for the second half of the tour and won’t be back for 3 weeks.”

“Okay, I know you love him, but it’s only 3 ½ weeks. They will fly by, especially with Maya’s birthday party and Ricky’s “I Hit One Million” Bash.”

Even though I hate to admit it, she was right. It’s just 3 lousy weeks and with the technology we have today, it will be like he never left. 

“Fuck, you’re right. Did you know I hate that about you?”

“Yeah and I love you too, beyotch. Call me later, okay?”

“Alright, bye.”

I finished my 90 minute workout and headed home to see Kian for the last few hours. I grabbed my gym bag and unlocked the door to see Kian’s suitcases against the wall. I let out a sigh and called out to him.

“I’ll be there in a sec!” he yelled back. When he came into my view, I saw that he was on the phone.

“Yeah, Dude. I’ll be there in about an hour. Okay. Bye”

I gave him a confused look,”I thought your flight was at 10 tonight.”

“It was, but there was a screw up with the airline and our flight is 4:40 now.” I looked at the clock behind him and it read 1:27 pm.

“So that means you have to leave now,” I said defeated.

“Yeah, I’m sorry Baby.”

“No it’s fine, it’s not your fault. Did you need me to drive you?”

“I don’t need you to, but I definitely want you to,” he said as he embraced me. 

I helped him load his bags into the car and hopped in. I couldn’t help but think that i wouldn’t have moments like this for 3 fucking weeks. I hated it, but Kian loves his fans and would do anything for them. I would never stand between that.

After what seemed like the shortest ride in history, we pulled up to his terminal. Jc and Dom were already out there waiting for us and I helped unload Kian’s things. We stood there for what felt like forever, just holding each other.

“Ugh, ew! Come on already, Vitaly’s inside!” JC whined beside us. Kian and I decided to gross him out even more and started tongue battling each other.

“God! Didn’t you guys do enough of that before he left?!” asked Dom.

“We actually didn’t,” I said to Kian, looking kind of amused. 

“Well this is going to be one uncomfortable flight,” he joked.

“Speaking of flight, we gotta catch ours!” JC said.

“Fuuuck, I don’t want you to leave.”

“I know, but I’ll be back soon, okay.”

“Okay, have fun.”

“I will, I’ll call you when we land,” he said running into the airport.

“I’ll be waiting,” I said to myself.

When I arrived back to our place I was finally able to take a well needed shower. When I was done, I ordered food off of Postmates and caught up on ‘Are You The One?’ I really hated being here without Kian, but I had to remind myself that I did it during the first half and was (somewhat) fine.

My phone started to ring and I got excited when I saw that it was Kian calling.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Baby. How are you?”

“Lonely. How was the flight?”

“Pretty good. Some kid threw up though, which made Dom almost throw up.”

“Ew, but kinda awesome, haha.” Our conversation didn’t last long due to the fact that he had a long day tomorrow and it was late where he was.

I decided that it was time for me to go to bed as well and try to not be so bleh.

The next few days were getting easier and easier. Almost two weeks have already passed and Maya’s birthday party was a great distraction. I hear from Kian every night and every night I miss him more. Tonight is Ricky’s bash and I’m really excited. I took me like 4 hours to get ready, but I was almost done. I was applying the last bit of makeup when my phone buzzed. 

I heard Callie come in and we naturally had to capture this moment. 

That night was complete blast. I can’t stress how proud I am of Ricky T for reaching over one million youtube subscribers. Callie and I finally got back to my place and I was about to take a shower when my phone started to ring.

“Hey, I saw your Snap. You look beautiful, how was the party?”

“It was really fun, but tiring. How’s the tour going?”

“It’s good! The fans are amazing, the closer I get to coming home, the more anxious I get to be with you.”

“*Sigh* I can’t wait for you to come back.”

“I know me either, but I’ll let you get some rest and I’ll do the same. Sweet dreams, Babe.”

“You too, Kian. Good night.”

The next few days were quite boring, but Kian comes home in a little over a week and I’m so happy! I had been trying to reach him for the last few hours now, but he wasn’t picking up. I finally gave up on him and tried calling JC, but it was too loud to hold a conversation. My last resort was Vitaly who evidently was asleep and didn’t know anything.

I realized that this was the first night Kian hadn’t called me and I got a sort of uneasy feeling in my stomach. I quickly shook it off and decided to go to bed. 

It was about 7:15 am when I was woken up by the constant vibration of my phone. After about 2 solid minutes, I groggily turn over and check what it is. I see that it is a bunch of Twitter notifications and I decided to open them. I see an assload of pictures of Jc with some random girl wither ass out, but that’s when I see it.

“What the fuck?” I say to myself as I read the tweets. I feel my heart drop as I see my boyfriend cradling another girl’s ass. I immediately decide to call him and of course it goes straight to voicemail. 

Over the course of the next 9 days, I didn’t leave the house. Ricky and Callie came over to keep me company, but I just wanted to be alone. Kian tried calling every 5 minutes, except when he was on stage, but I ignored all of them. Even the rest of the boys were trying to contact me, but I only talked to Vitally since he wasn’t there that night. He tried to get me to talk about it, but knowing that he would relay it all to Kian, I just changed the subject. 

So many people were talking about what happened, even Kian’s ex Andrea. All I could do at this point is cry and look at old photos of Kian and I. 

Kian comes back tomorrow and I had to make a hasty decision. I was in the middle of my thoughts when my phone vibrated over and over again. I thought I shut that fucker off. I go look at it and I see it is the man of the hour once again.

I can’t help but smile a little bit as I cry even harder now. Is it worth letting go? Is it worth staying? Then he said it. 

Those words made my decision so much easier.

Okay so this post got popular really quickly so I’m gonna expand on it now:

  • Neil has his own social media account, but he never goes on it 
    • It’s called Neil_Jostenn and it’s very original
    • (Someone took both NeilJosten and Neil_Josten like what??)
    • It has pictures of his sneakers (endorsements) and his teammates and blurry pictures of Kevin with no caption except for #queenday but mostly he doesn’t do anything with it
    • His bio is just his name, number, and the team he’s playing for
    • (It has #teamjosten for a bit too but not the point)
  • He does, however, have a cat account
  • No one besides his foxes knows he has it
  • It has more followers than his personal account does?? Somehow???
  • It’s called sir.n.king and it’s one of the cutest things
  • He posts almost daily and never shows his own face but it’s clear he’s an exy fan bc he dresses his cats up in jerseys
  • Most of the time he puts them in mini-versions of Kevin’s jersey with tiaras
  • His followers only know the names of his cats, that he has a bf, and a room entirely dedicated to his (I can’t decide if they’re rescue or therapy cats so probably one of each if that works)
  • He dresses Sir up as his bf a lot, complete with armbands and reading glasses
    • Caption: “He looks so much like his father”
    • (Via Nicky, who was making one of his impromptu visits
  • Speaking of Nicky
  • This kiddo is bitter about the popularity of Neil’s cat account
  • See, he runs dog accounts for each and every one of his and Erik’s pet
  • Most of them are rescues, but one of them is a therapy pet Nicky got back in palmetto to keep him happy when Erik wasn’t around and comfort him when he was close to breaking down
  • He was the one to suggest the cat accounts to Neil
  • And now Neil’s cats have more followers than all of his babies combined???
  • This is unacceptable 
  • He doesn’t even tell anyone he’s a famous exy player, they’re famous all on their own
  • Nicky wants to call bullshit but he has no proof that Neil used any “gain more followers!” cheats
  • Nicky and Neil get into fights over whose pets are better and Neil just pulls out the amount of followers his have as statistics
  • It’s very frustrating
  • During the Minyard-Josten rivalry, he dresses their cats up in both of their jerseys and posts multiple pictures of them cuddling and other interactions 
  • It’s very confusing for his followers, who are mostly not exy fans but they know that Minyard and Josten are supposed to be at each others throats
  • Then this happens 
  • The reporter is shocked to say the least
    • “Cats?”
    • “Yeah, my cats.”
  • He then just gushes about his cats and shows all of the reporters pictures and stuff from his cat account on Instagram and they’re so confused but it takes up all the time they have and Neil can go home without getting asked any more questions about Andrew Minyard so he counts it as a win
  • So now the whole world knows about Neil Josten and his precious cats
  • And with further investigation, his boyfriend???
  • Shit is happening
  • No one expected this kid to be so fucking cute with his bf and cats and domesticity like this???
  • When Andreil comes out, Neil posts a picture of Sir sitting on Andrew’s lap dresses up like him again 
  • Andrew is reading and petting Sir and it’s the picture that makes everyone realize he’s not a monster
  • That, and the ones that follow

Bonus:

  • King is girl, and no one really cared when naming her
  • But now it’s made sort of a problem bc oops she’s having babies guys
  • King does this to Neil and Neil cries 
  • He’s just so fucking overwhelmed okay it’s two am and his cat is giving him her babies and it’s too much
  • Andrew gets it on video 
    • Caption: “The hellspawn woke us up”
    • (Via Andrew, who pretends to hate the cats but loves them almost as much as Neil does)

This is important to me okay

Harry Fake Dates Kendall but is in Love With You

A/n: This is an updated version of an imagine I’ve previously uploaded. I know Hendall is so 2015. I get it.

Masterlist linked in bio.


The red wine leaves a particular stain on Harry’s lips that he hadn’t noticed until Kendall pointed it out to him.

“It looks like you’re wearing lipstick” she laughs, “I didn’t know you were going to dress up this much for the party.”

They are currently sat at his mum’s kitchen island, drinking red wine while munching on some chips left out for the guests. The house is filled with familiar faces, friends and family all throughout London coming together for Anne’s birthday celebration.

They hosted one every year for as long as Harry could remember, a time of year where nearly every one of his family members, including his step family, would unite. It was their favorite time of year, believe it or not. Despite all the excitement for the holidays, Anne’s birthday celebration was certainly something special.

It was Kendall’s first time attending, considering the fact that Harry had only really talked to her whenever he was assigned to be with her for publicity. It wasn’t always ideal, however, he built a stable friendship with her, so he didn’t mind the extra company with him from time to time.

She was invited last minute, of course, since his management called last night to ask if there was any way for them to be seen together. With Harry’s new movie coming out and his solo album just released a couple weeks ago, it was almost a given for him to be rumored with a girlfriend. That’s how it’s worked all throughout his career.

He normally wouldn’t have minded, however, this was the worst possible date for him to be with Kendall.

Because it’s Anne’s birthday party, this means that it’ll be the first time in one year that he’ll be seeing Y/n. They have been best friends since they were five years old, basically growing up in the same house as they went through school together. But as time went on, and as they both went to their separate ways, it was hard to keep in touch with each other all the time.

She remained in the small towns of London while Harry was traveling world wide, where his name became known everywhere as Y/n’s was only known through people she attended school with. Of course, they still talked, considering they both admitted to having more than friendship feelings, but their lives were busy in their own ways, preventing them from being more than what they wanted to be.

For the past couple months, Harry planned that this would be the day he’d finally move forward with Y/n. Or, at least attempt to. With the loss of her over the past year, it made Harry realize just how much he couldn’t imagine a life without her. It had been so long—too long, and he couldn’t stand how long he’s lived without keeping in touch with her.

But now, everything he planned for the two of them is becoming impossible. He can’t begin to imagine how Y/n would feel knowing he brought Kendall to his mum’s birthday party after they both confessed their love for each other. In all honesty, he wouldn’t blame her for giving up on him. He keeps doing this to her, even if it’s unintentional.

He watches around the kitchen at the guests he hasn’t seen in quite a while. His leg bounces with impatience when each new person walking in to attend the party isn’t Y/n. It’s been nearly an hour and has never been so late to anything before.

And as horrible as it sounds, he almost wishes she doesn’t come, just so that she can avoid the heartbreak that will come when she reunites with Kendall again.

“I’m sorry I’m late!”

Harry’s head whips around when he hears the voice he’s been deprived of for the past year. The first thing he notices are her lips, and the way they move around her words so softly. They’re slightly glazed with a lipgloss, painting her lips with a rosy shade of pink. They look so much fuller to him now, but he knows not a trace of them are artificial.  

His eyes only drift from the shape of her lips when her fingers reach to tuck loose pieces of hair behind her ear. It’s then he notices just how much shorter her hair has gotten. What was once so long and lank is now falling just above the shoulder, set in luscious curls he can only imagine twisting around his fingers.

His jaw goes slack when he sees the pale pink dress she’s wearing. It’s made from silk, the metallic fabric glowing with each step she takes. He gulps when he notices just how much the dress accentuates the curvature of her body and how much of her legs are put on display for him to see, and he can’t help but to wipe the sweat off his palms when he watches her greet his mother with a proper kiss on the cheek.

He notices that his eyes haven’t shut since he’s seen her, but he’s so completely intrigued by how much has changed in her. Something about her seems so much more real—so much more vibrant—and he can’t seem to stop himself from praising how time has done her so goddamn well.

“You never told me she was going to be here.“

His body jerks at Kendall’s sudden appearance, her body slowly occupying the seat next to his at the kitchen island. If it wasn’t for her, he swears he would have caught himself drooling.

“Didn’t think I had to,” he says with a shrug, “she’s been my best friend since we were five. She’s basically apart of this family, she wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

Y/n hasn’t missed a single one of Anne’s birthday celebrations since she’s known Harry. Their bond is irreplaceable—so irreplaceable, in fact, that Anne has been convinced Y/n is a miracle for their family. She was there for them through all the troubled times; helping them through their hardships and family instabilities.

When Anne and her husband first got divorced, Harry and Y/n were seven. Harry didn’t understand much of what was happening, all he knew was that his mum and dad weren’t going to love each other anymore. He was hurting, even when Gemma was there to try and keep him together. He started to believe everything between his parents was a lie.

She understood the whole separation process. Her mum left her at a young age, leaving her alone with her father. They were close, of course, but she always missed having a mother figure in her life. It made her upset to know she could only listen to one voice in the house, but as she grew older, she accepted it more.

By the time she met Harry, he kept bringing her over to his house as the years went on. Anne was the closest she had to mother, and their bond became unbreakable by the time Y/n was a teenager. Nearly seven years of Y/n being like another member of the family, Y/n started buying Anne Mother’s Day cards.

So when Y/n watched her second family fall apart, along with Anne’s heart, and she was determined to patch them back together again. Even at her young age, she’d pick flowers from her garden and give them to Anne everyday after school. Y/n said they represented her, and how she felt being a woman with such love and beauty could die all too quickly. Harry never understood what it meant, but Y/n did, which is why she never stopped until she heard Anne laughing again.

She also started to draw pictures and write her letters, reminding her of how loved she was by everyone. As much as Anne was heartbroken during the time, she took the letters everywhere she went and kept every flower alive for as long as she possibly could. Anne would always tell Harry “That girl came into our lives for a reason, my love. She’s a special one, our little miracle, never let her go. You hear me?”

Harry didn’t understand what it truly meant to let someone go, but he did his best to do anything but that. And now, as Harry sits on his mother’s kitchen island and seeing Y/n for the first time in a year, he feels he’s done just that.

“Guess not.” Kendall mutters, taking her last sip of the red wine left in her glass. “She’s just so strange, I guess. I can barely hold a conversation with her without her making an excuse to leave.”

Kendall and Y/n never really got along, it was extremely noticeable to everyone who held a conversation with the both of them. They just don’t see things in the same light. Y/n is very outgoing and lively; an extreme extrovert that seeks adventure—and Kendall can’t stand it. She thinks Y/n does it for attention, especially because she’s remained a small town girl while being surrounded by well-known celebrities. And even though it may seem like Y/n likes the attention, that’s not her purpose. She gives all her attention to others, never to herself, and it has always been something Harry loved the most.

And when it comes to Y/n, Kendall was that one thing that was constantly in her way of Harry. No matter how many times Harry and Y/n discussed how there was something between them, Kendall always found her way back to haunt her. She was her worst goddamn nightmare. She was perfect for Harry in the public eye, and nothing made Y/n feel worse than knowing she’ll never be her type of perfect, especially when it came to Harry.

But Kendall doesn’t know that. All she knows is that Y/n is extremely stand-offish with her, and she’ll never understand why.

“She’s not used to our lives. It’s extremely difficult for her to understand how we live, you know? She’s normal.”

Kendall scoffs, eyes rolling around the room because she hates that word. She feels so divided, like she’s in a categorization in society and everything about it makes her teeth clench.

“We’re normal, too, you know. I don’t understand why she feels so intimated and feels like she has something to prove.”

Harry’s jaw clenches slightly at the negative connotes Kendall has about Y/n’s life. Something about it makes his stomach twist the wrong way, and he can’t help the underlying growl in between his words.

“We’re not normal. Deep down, you and I both know that. You also don’t know Y/n, so stop making irrational assumptions about her.”

Kendall narrows her eyes at Harry, a gaze full of confusion and disbelief at the undeniable grumble in his tone. Any rational conversation they have about Y/n always end the same—with Harry quick to end the discussion and jump to her defense. It’s times like these Kendall never understood the true extent of Harry and Y/n’s relationship. They always claimed it was platonic but there has always been a sense of something stronger in them, like unaddressed or unchased feelings, or a past they shared that was kept between the two.

Either way, it annoyed the shit out of Kendall because they both were hiding something that she’ll never be able to get answered.

“Fine, whatever.” She sighs dramatically, scooting her chair back until she has room to stand properly. “Want some more wine? Getting some.”

Harry slides his empty wine glass so that it’s in front of her, muttering a small “yeah, thanks” before she’s on her way to the counter across the room, retrieving extra wine and mingling with some of Harry’s family.

Harry sighs while his head rests at the palm of his hand, eyes gazing directly to where Y/n is standing. His lips tug up lightly when he hears her laugh from the living room, his tongue running over his bottom lip ever so slightly as he watches her mouth lift and her eyes squint shut as she catches up with one of his uncles about his grand annual weekend fishing trip.

And as his eyes stay so transfixed on the woman in the other room, he can’t help but imagine seeing that type of perfection every day for the rest of his life.

“And everyone thinks Sweet Creature is about me..”

Harry’s head snaps to Gemma’s figure leaning over the edge of the island, her elbows hitched on the counter as a small smirk plays on her lips. She found it abnormally amusing how he didn’t even acknowledge her presence until she spoke, too invested in hawking over Y/n’s every move.

Harry grumbles, but the smile from Y/n’s laughter is permanent on his lips when he does so. Gemma even notices his cheeks brighten with pink, another hint of confirmation to the words she spoke.

“Shut up, Gem.“

She puts her arms up defensively, “Hey, don’t take it out on me. I’m just making an observation.”

Harry rolls his eyes as Gemma wraps her arm around his neck, hunching over so that her lips are close to his ear and eyes are directed toward Y/n again.

“She has gotten hotter, hasn’t she?”

She has no idea. All Harry can think about is how someone already so beautiful has grown to be so perfect. Everything about her makes Harry want to get down on his knees and worship every inch of her body. He has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from thinking how much of a wreck he wants to make out of her.

“I don’t know how she did it. You better get her while you still have the chance, I know many, many men who want a taste of her.”

No is the first thing Harry thinks when the words leave from Gemma’s mouth. As hypocritical and selfish as it is, knowing other men have shown an interest in her makes his skin crawl. And he can’t help but feel his throat tighten at the moment Y/n realizes he had brought Kendall to this party.

“Is she—“ he can’t even finish his sentence without his jaw tightening again, hindering the rest of his question from leaving his lips.

“Oh, quit your worrying, H. She’s single, I don’t think she’d ever date someone who isn’t you. Besides, I don’t think you can do much about it with Kendall here.”

Gemma lifts a finger to where Kendall is standing, still in the same spot as she talks to his aunt Leslie. His heart hurts knowing what Y/n will feel when she finds out. He knows that there is always a part of her that feels discouraged whenever there’s a new woman in his life. In between Harry and Y/n’s love for each other was a mix of false hopes and miscommunication, and it always fucked them up whenever anything else was put in their way.

Gemma pats his shoulder before making rounds to her family and friends again, leaving Harry slumped against the counter with not a drop of wine to numb his scrambling mind.

When Y/n finishes catching up with the rest of Harry’s family, she finds that her patience is wearing thin. It’s been a year since she’s seen the love of her life, and knowing that he’s somewhere near her is enough to get her heart racing.

When she sees him sitting alone at the kitchen island, wearing his infamous pink suit and staring down at his fingers, it’s as if her body starts to malfunction. Her legs stop moving and her lips part, eyes glistening with admiration as she sees him for the first time in so long.

He’s as beautiful as ever, his new haircut accentuating his facial structure. His lips seem so much more red, too, which are complimented greatly by that goddamn suit. Everything about him radiates, like he’s developed into a whole other person. She’ll never quite grasp the idea that she’s about to reunite with him; something about it makes her palms sweat.

“Hey, stranger.”

Harry lifts his head up to look at her in all her glory. His heart warms at her presence more than the wine did, and he can’t help but to take a breath of relief when he finally hears her voice again.

“Y/n.” He breathes out, his fingers instinctively reaching up to the ends of her cut hair.

He chokes out a laugh of admiration when he sees her this close to him. She is so much different—so much more perfect than he ever remembers her being and it takes his breath away.

His fingers twist her hair, wrapping them around the digits before letting the strands fall back in place again. He never saw her without her hair down to her waist, and now that he has, he never wants to see her hair past her shoulders again.

“It’s so beautiful” he whispers, “you look so beautiful like this, Y/n. I absolutely love it.”

She blushes, her chin tucking slightly into her neck as if trying to hide how much of a reaction he got out of her. No matter how many years she’s known him, she was never used to the way he spoke to her.

“It was spontaneous. Really wanted a change, and it looks like I’m not the only one.”

Her hands reach to his hair, which is so much shorter compared to the last time she saw him. She remembered she couldn’t keep her hands out of it last year, constantly finding ways to tangle her fingers at the ends. Harry found it hysterical, actually, and thought it was the cutest thing she’s ever done.

“It’s just so soft” she’d say, “it’s like a whole other world in there!”

But now her only option is to tangle her fingers at the roots, and as she does so, her mind drifts to all the other occasions she could have her hands in his hair again.

“It’s so much shorter. Look at that! I can barely tug on it anymore!” She laughs in amusement, her fingers slipping as she pulls too hard.

He smirks up at her, a giggle falling from his lips as he watches her utterly amused reaction. They begin to catch up with the part of their lives they both have missed. Harry talked about his album while Y/n started discussing her new journalism job.

Talking to Y/n is one of the only normal parts of him left, it always gave him a sense of grounding whenever he felt his career was taking off to heights he wasn’t ready for. She is one of the only sense of normality he has left in his life, and it’s another reason as to why he admires her so dearly. She brought out parts of him nobody else could reach, and it’s another reason why he feels so upset he’s barely talked to her.

“Y/n?” he asks hesitantly, reaching his hand over so that his fingertips graze her hand.

Her breath breaks when he touches her, the softness in his voice proving that what is about to be discussed is far more important than their previous conversation. She notices the stress lines in between his forehead and the parting of his wine stained lips when he begins to speak. 

“I’m so sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you. I know how it makes me look, especially after everything that happened between us. With the new album and everything, I’ve just been so busy with—“

“Kendall?”

Harry’s head jumps to where Y/n stares dumbfounded, Kendall holding two glasses of wine in one hand while the other is carrying a plate of chicken wings. She’s looking down at Y/n, too, her eyebrows lifted up in an intimidating manner. There’s a scowl present on her lips as she continues to tower over her.

Y/n feels tears building in her eyes as she takes in the situation at hand. She was so fucking dumb to think that Harry was going to come to Anne’s party alone, especially since his new album just released. This is Kendall’s prime time appearance, when Harry needs a familiar famous face beside him to advertise his solo career.

This isn’t anything new—this isn’t anything unfamiliar, but the pain feels like a fresh wound to her heart. Harry and Y/n are nearly 24, with having known each other and felt something for each other for years, she thought that if anything were going to happen, it was going to happen now. But everything between them has remained stagnant for so long that the last sliver of hope she had for their potential relationship has been completely taken away from her. By Kendall, again.

“W—Wow, I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know Harry had invited you.”

“Yeah,” Kendall nods, “he invited me last night.”

Last night.

Y/n’s lips purse together, nodding her head as her eyes drift around the kitchen. Anything to avoid Kendall’s eyes—anything to feel as unimportant as she does now.

Harry’s eyes squeeze shut, a small hissing releasing from his tongue at how wrong it all sounds, considering absolutely nothing happened between Harry and Kendall the previous night besides being demanded that the two of them are to be seen together again.

“Right,” Y/n’s voice cracks, “well, I’m sorry to interrupt your time together. I’m going to go to Gemma’s room, got a phone call from my dad a while ago so I should go check up on him. I’ll see you guys around.”

She musters up a pathetic smile before practically running away from them. After everything they both told each other, after all the feelings they’ve had toward each other, how could Harry keep doing this to her? How could he keep being with Kendall when he says he loves Y/n?

She doesn’t even find the strength in her to hold in her tears before she approaches the steps, not daring to look back at them again. She never wants to see them in the same room again, it’ll be too much her heart can handle. 

“You’ve really got to be fucking kidding me, Kendall.” Harry growls.

His hands fist around the wine glass, his knuckles turning white and he’s absolutely shocked it hasn’t shattered into pieces in his hands from all the anger pulsing through his veins.

Jesus, Harry, neither one of you can take a joke. Does she not understand that all of this is for the press? She keeps acting like we’re a couple.”

“Could you really blame her after that? ‘He invited me last night,’ you’re really getting a kick out of making her uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

He grumbles as he takes a long sip of his wine, hoping that the alcohol loosens his muscles enough to restrain himself from doing anything he regrets. He loves his mum too much to start an argument during her birthday party, and as much as Kendall’s shifting Harry’s mood, he still appreciates her as a friend to ruin anything.

“That wasn’t even my fault, you both dug into that way too deep. Last night does not mean while we were fucking. It’s a time of day.”

“It’s the way you said it.”

“Are you being serious, Harry?”

He slams his glass down on the island, grumbling under his breath while he stands up from his chair. No matter how much anger is in him now, the only thoughts swirling in his brain are wondering if Y/n’s okay. She would have never left the party to go into a secluded room, not even if her dad called her.

“You leave her the fuck alone, Kendall. I mean it.”

He storms away from her, desperate to find Y/n because God only knows what’s really happening in that bedroom. Y/n’s emotions and feelings are always positive, always so bright, and he refuses to be the reason they turn upside down. She doesn’t deserve all he keeps doing to her, she doesn’t deserve him.

When Harry nearly swings himself onto the first step, he can already hear the soft murmur of Y/n’s and Anne’s voice, which makes him stop from approaching them any more than he has already.

“Y/n? Y/n, darling?” Anne asks with worry when she sees Y/n climbing up the top step with tears in her eyes, soft cries falling from her throat as her hand attempts to silence them.

She reaches an arm out for her, tugging at the front of Y/n’s dress slightly to get her attention. She’s grateful it was Anne who found her this way instead of any other guest at the party, considering nobody besides her and Harry have seen her with a frown on her face.

“Y/n, baby, what’s going on with you?”

The lights are off in the hallway, with no guests permitted in the area, which gives Y/n the proper time to fully allow her tears to fall down her cheeks.

“I’m so s—sorry, Anne.” Y/n cries.

Anne’s hands rub her shoulders, reassuring her that there’s absolutely nothing for her to apologize for. It also lets her know that she’s willing to listen to her, no matter where or when—she’ll always be there.

“I’m almost 24, Anne, and I’ve put so much of my life on hold for him.”

She knows instantly who Y/n’s talking about. It wasn’t difficult to notice the undying connection between Y/n and her son, especially as the years went on. They have grown so strongly together, there has never been a doubt in Anne’s mind that Y/n is going to be the girl Harry ends up marrying. Everyone in the family called it a destiny waiting to happen, but it has been so long since anything has happened between them, and Anne can’t help but feel heartbroken to know Y/n’s carrying the wrong idea about him and Kendall.

“And I’ve sacrificed so m—much to continue waiting for him, but I don’t think I can keep doing this anymore. We’re nowhere near where we should be, especially when he keeps spending time with Kendall and I just—I just don’t know if I can—“

“Oh, my darling.” Anne sighs, cradling Y/n’s head against her shoulder as she rubs down her back.

She shushes her through her tears, rocking her slightly in an attempt to calm her from her cries. It’s extremely rare for Y/n to feel upset, so when she does so, Anne knows she deserves all the comfort and love she can get.

“I know you so well, and I know my son. I always knew you were a match made in heaven, my dear. I knew from the start you were more than just an ordinary girl. You’re so special, to everyone in our family, but especially to him. He may not have his head screwed on right most of the time, but if I can promise you anything with all my heart, it’s that he loves you. Please, no matter what, never forget that.”

Y/n nods against her shoulder, thanking her through her violent cries before Anne insists she takes some time to herself. And as much as Y/n wanted to refrain from going into Harry’s bedroom, it’ll be the only place that brings her a sense of comfort.

Harry already knows he’s in for a lecture the second he sees his mum coming down the stairs with bewildered eyes. She grips his shoulders, her face tight with frustration.

“Mum—“

“You go over to her and you be the man I taught you to be, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes widen at her words, swallowing thickly at the thought of disappointing another person in his life.

“She loves you and you love her. Stop doing favors for other people and start thinking about you before you ruin both of your lives forever. You hear me?”

Harry nods feverishly, determined and more motivated than ever to fix all that he’s caused. Love comes first, always, and he needs to remember that before he breaks Y/n’s heart completely.

She’s it. She’s all that matters to him.

He barely responds to Anne before he’s racing to his old bedroom, completely clueless as to what he’s going to say, but willing to do anything to get her back.

“Y/n?” Harry calls through the door of his old bedroom. “Y/n, can I come in?” 

He knocks on the door lightly, just using the knuckles of his pointer and middle finger. He hears her feet pad over to the door, opening it to reveal her tear stained cheeks. Her hands are trembling against the knob, her breath broken with soft, gentle cries. Her eyes are widened with sadness, wet and red from tears she barely ever cries.

“Y/n.” He whimpers, tentatively reaching his shaking fingers up to her cheeks. He wipes away the tears from the bottoms of her eyes, sighing upsettingly as her eyes close at his touch. “Never seen you like this. Please talk to me.”

Her lips quiver as another sob rips through her, her hand reaching up to capture his between her fingers. Her saddened and wet eyes looking down at the intertwined hands now resting against her lap.

“I’m so tired, H.” She whimpers, “So tired.”

His lips press against her forehead, “I know, love. I know.”

She wraps her arms around him, her face burying in between his chest as he lets her tears soak in his undershirt.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I’d finally be alone with you after all this time. I missed being close to you, I wanted to be closer to you and I thought you felt the same about me and I didn’t understand, Harry, I didn’t get it and—“


“Hey, relax for me.” Harry mumbles, his lips grazing tenderly along her cheek.

She takes a deep breath, her fingers fisting the back of his suit tighter in her fists. She rests her chin on the top of his chest, tears still roaming down her face as she lets out an exasperated sigh. Her fingertips trace patterns on his back, her eyes fluttering closed as he pushes some of her hair off of her face, refraining them from sticking to her wet cheeks.

“I didn’t get it,” she whispers, “I was so confused, and when you didn’t answer my calls or texts I thought you didn’t find me important. And I was under no right to be upset about it, because you’re busy and you have priorities. But when I saw you today, I didn’t see you as the Harry I always have, I still can’t tell you what I saw but I wanted every part of you more than I ever have before. But when I saw Kendall I—“

Her cries and words die down when she feels Harry’s tender lips against hers. She’s taken aback at first, and before she has any time to really kiss him back, he’s already pulled away.

“Let me fix this.” He breathes out, “let show you that I only want you.”

His lips press against the side of her mouth, not allowing himself to kiss her the way he wants to until she lets him. They then begin to travel down her neck, along her jaw, around her mouth.

Y/n’s breath is stiff as he does so, embracing the feeling of his mouth against her skin. They’ve only ever kissed a handful of times, none of them being passionate or loving. They’ve shared pecks while saying goodbyes or after confessing their feelings, but none quite like this—none quite like the one anticipating to happen.

His breathing his hard when he continues to kiss along her skin, his fingers moving longly in her hair the more his mouth presses against her.

“Will you let me?” He whispers when his lips are ghosting over hers, “this okay?”

She nods feverishly, hitting the point of desperation when she feels his breath fan over the skin of her face. She’s been needing this for far too long now.

“Yes, please.

His thumb runs over her bottom lip one, two, three times before he finally leans in. Their lips mush together passionately, only breaking apart to move their position before locking again. Their tongues meet in the middle, making the both of them moan at the unfamiliar spark coursing through their veins.

Harry walks toward his bed until Y/n’s knees hit the edge of it, making her back meet the mattress. Their lips haven’t detached once, not daring to break away from the feeling they’ve both been deprived of.

They’re both making out on Harry’s childhood bed, grinding onto each other half naked like two hormonal teenagers. Their clothes thrown across the room, lips swollen from all the suction and nibbling, and hair completely knotted from either of their fingertips, the party below them long forgotten.

“Wait, wait wait wait!” Y/n gasps, lifting herself off of his chest.

Harry’s chest rises and falls rapidly, trying to catch his breath as he looks up at Y/n in confusion. He watches as a smirk lifts from her lips as she peers down at his flushed face, giggling slightly at his complete fucked out appearance.

She notices that his lips remained stained from the red wine—a little faded—but still making her body weak at the sight of it.

“’s the matter?” He croaks.

His voice is thick—an entirely different level of raspy, and Y/n wonders how she’s lived so long without hearing him speak in that way. Between all the kissing, all the touching, all the moaning, his voice has a particular roughness to it that Y/n could feed off of if she had to.

“We shouldn’t do this, right? I mean, we’re about to fuck during your mum’s birthday party. Your entire family and Kendall are downstairs, anybody could walk in at any second, or hear us, and your mum could find that so disrespectful and—“

Her rambling is interrupted by his lips, meeting hers passionately between her words.

There is no way in hell he’s leaving this room tonight. Everything that’s been stagnant between them is finally moving in the right direction, and he can’t find it anywhere in him to walk away from it.

“You think I’m letting you go now?” He whispers, his thumb running along her bottom lip. “I have been waiting for this moment with you since high school, sweetheart.”

His lips reattach to her neck, sucking on spots he hasn’t already left marks on, soaking up every bit of the time he has with her before it’s over. This is the first time they’re going to make love, and he wants to feel and remember every bit of this moment.

“B—But your mum—“ She moans, her fingers nearly tangling at the ends of his hair as she hisses in pleasure from his tongue.

“Every single person downstairs knows about us. This—this happening right now, has been expected to happen since I first brought you home. I guarantee you, nothing will make her more happy than knowing her son and his future wife are finally acting on our feelings instead of pushing them to the side again.”

His words make Y/n blush like no other; her cheeks turning the shade of pink on her dress she wore previously. It’s then he notices just hot fucking pretty she is in pink, how every tint of the color compliments her in ways he can barely wrap his head around.

“Future wife, hm?” She smirks, tapping the pads of her fingers against his bare collarbones.

He kisses her again.

“Thought you knew that, love. Wouldn’t know a single soul I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” His fingers dig into her hips, “’s always been you.“

Y/n pushes Harry’s back against the mattress again, trailing her fingers down his torso. She giggles when his teeth clench at her touch, finding it almost irresistible to embrace the way he responds to her touch so easily.

“Trust me, I always knew.”

Unbearable || Peter Parker Imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Request:  Could you write an imagine where the reader is Tony Stark’s daughter and is dating Peter Parker and something happens between them, either like assuming the other one cheated and idk one or the other is hurt and idk i wonder what the situation would end up being like? Thank you!

Word Count: 1752 words

Originally posted by fuckyeahtonystark

(i think I’ve used this gif before but there aren’t many left)

For a couple of weeks now, Y/N has noticed how her boyfriend, Peter, has been getting closer and closer to her best friend Liz. He used to always eat lunch with Y/N and sit next to her in classes. Now, he’s doing that with the perfect Liz Allen. Sometimes, the young girl thought that Peter was dating her for her last name. Stark. Y/N wasn’t jealous of her friend, just envious of the attention she was getting from Peter. Y/N wanted to get closer to her boyfriend again, and she didn’t know what to do.

One day when she went over to Peter’s house, he was being awfully distant. Y/N knew about his alter ego Spider-Man because his relationship with her dad. She knew that was part of the reason why he was bailing on dates but, he would always try to make time with Y/N at least three times a week. That all changed the day he started hanging out with Liz more. The couple only hang out once a week now. So, while she sat on his bed, all she could think about was how he was most likely cheating on her.

“Peter?” She asked quietly. He was on his phone, by his desk, barely paying attention to the girl who was breaking inside. “Hm?” He muttered, smiling at his phone. He tapped the screen lightly to, what Y/N could gather, text someone back.

“Who are you texting?” She asked softly again, looking down at her legs hanging off the edge of the bed. Peter stuttered, “It’s n-no one.” He put his phone down to give his girlfriend his full undivided attention.

“We need to talk Peter.” She forced out, looking him in the eye. “Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” He chuckled at his own statement.

“I mean about us Peter!” Y/N said, angrier than before. This surprised Peter. She was never normally…. angry. Y/N exhaled, trying to keep her cool.

“W-What about us?” He stuttered, “I thought we were doing fine.”

“You’ve been ditching me Peter but, not to protect the city. To hang out with my best friend. And don’t try to deny it cause I see pictures of you guys on her Snapchat all the time.” She sniffled. Peter sighed, “Y/N,” he said shaking his head slightly, standing up to go sit next to her. Before he could complete his statement, she interrupted, “Are you cheating on me with Liz?” She asked.

He shook his head yet again, grabbing her face with both of his hands, turning her towards his. “No, it’s…..it’s not like that.” Y/N got out of his grasp by standing up. Tears started to escape her eyes.  

“Then what’s it like Peter?” She demanded, crossing his arms. Peter sat there on his bed, trying to think of an answer. “It’s just,” he couldn’t continue. He didn’t know what to say.

“It’s just what?” Y/N questioned, getting loud again. Peter looked at his hands.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N.” He couldn’t tell her his plan. Not yet. She’ll forgive me though, he thought. She scoffed, uncrossing her arms to grab her stuff. Before she left his bedroom, she turned to look at him. “You know what Peter,” she scoffed, “Liz is all your’s now.” she spat, slamming his bedroom door.

Y/N scurried towards the front door of the apartment. May was sitting on the couch, watching the girl leave. She smiled sadly, “Bye May,” she opened the door but stopped at the sound of his voice. “Y/N,” He said from across the room with a sad look on his face. “Goodbye, Peter.” She slammed the door not looking back.

School the next day was awful for both Peter and Y/N. Peter had no girlfriend to constantly boast about and Y/N had no one to kiss or greet by her locker in the morning. At lunch, Y/N sat with Liz, not saying anything to her with her friends not speaking as well. Liz broke the silence, “I heard you and Peter broke up.“She said sympathetically. Y/N scoffed, “Let me guess, he told you? Did he tell you why?” Liz nodded her head, “He isn’t cheating on you Y/N.” She said looking at the girl honestly.

“Well obviously he isn’t cause we aren’t together, which means he can date anyone he wants. Including you.” Y/N said, grabbing her lunch and moving to sit somewhere away from Liz, and away from Peter. He saw Y/N stand up, angrily and move away from her best friend. This was all his fault.

Later that day, when Peter arrived at the Avengers tower, Tony was furious. Tony walked with Peter into his lab, grabbing the boy by the color of his shirt viciously. “I’ll give you ten seconds to explain why you cheated on my little girl.” He said with venom lacing his voice.

“That’s not what happened, Mr. Stark. I swear.” Peter expressed with a worried tone.. Tony let go of his collar glaring at him. “Then why has Y/N been crying her eyes out?”

Peter rubbed his face with his hands wanting all of this to just blow over. He hated the fact that it was HIS fault as to why the love of his life wasn’t smiling. “Liz was helping me with something…” Peter trailed off, making the genius confused. “Is that a euphemism for sex or something?” Tony grimaced.

“No! No, oh god no. Nothing like that.” Peter said in shock and slight disgust. “What was it then?” Tony crossed his arms, just like Y/N did last night.

Peter sighed, “Liz is Y/N’s best friend so I went to her for advice.”

“For what?” Tony asked, less agitated at the young superhero standing in front of him. Peter looked at his shoes while bouncing on his feet. “I needed help for asking your daughter to Homecoming, so I thought, who knows her better than she knows herself and I thought Liz. That’s all we were doing Mr. Stark.” He said sadly, realizing that all the help he was getting didn’t matter because he wasn’t with his girl anymore.

Tony was still confused, “Couldn’t you have Googled ideas?” He asked,knowing now that it was all a misunderstanding between the juvenile lovers. Peter shook his head.

“It’s not that easy Mr. Stark. I thought maybe Y/N wanted a subtle way to be asked to the dance. But what if she wanted something completely extraordinary. That’s why I went to Liz. But I wasn’t with her constantly. I was with her handful of lunch periods, and we went to Starbucks to talk about it once. Only once.” He explained. Dropping his backpack on the floor.

“How do you plan on asking her?” Tony questioned walking around his lab.

“We’re not together anymore…..” Peter said as if Tony wasn’t listening to the conversation, following the man around the lab. Tony turned around to face Peter. “I don’t care, You were good for her. And I don’t want her dating some idiot. Now, how are you going to ask her?” He questioned Peter yet again.Peter had a big smile on his face, ready to tell him.

That night, there was a knock on Y/N’s window. It wasn’t too late at night, but she knew exactly who it was. “Go away.” She said, loud enough for him to hear her through the window. He tapped on the glass again, “Go away!” She said slightly louder. The tapping continued much to her dismay. Y/N groaned and got up off of her bed to open the window.

She looked through the glass to see Peter Parker, or Spider-Man, hanging upside down on a web, holding a huge teddy bear and roses in one hand with a poster in the other that said, “It would be unBEARable to go to Homecoming without you” in red letters. Y/N froze, looking at him with wide eyes. He flipped over and let go of the webbing.

She opened the window, helping the boy through it and into her room. “Peter, what the hell? We aren’t a thing anymore, remember?” She said a bit agitated. Peter put the poster down, grabbing his mask off of his face, shaking his head to fix his hair. “I swear that I didn’t cheat on you with Liz, alright? She was just helping me with ideas to ask you to Homecoming.” Peter admitted, wanting her to know the truth. Y/N had a more understanding look in her eyes.

“Then why were you bailing on all of our dates?” She asked.

“Crime rates have gone up in New York, despite everyone’s effort to stop it. Trust me, I wanted to go on those dates with you, it’s just- someone needs to be there for the city after the whole hero versus hero thing.” He rushed. “Please, you have to believe me.” He said sadly.

Y/N ran to him, wrapping her arms around him. Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I’m such an asshole,” the girl in his arms mumbled against his shoulder, “I should’ve listened to you. I’m so sorry.” Peter rubbed one hand on her back reassuringly holding his gifts for her in the other. “There’s no need to apologize. I would’ve done the same thing though.” He stated honestly. The two pulled away from each other.

Peter moved to pick up the poster to show her again. He had a cheesy grin on his face as he held everything. “Will you go to homecoming with me?” He asked. Y/N nodded her head, “Of course I will.”

Peter went to hand her the teddy bear and the roses. “You know what you should name him?“ Peter asked rhetorically. “What?” She asked with a smile on her face, smelling the flowers.

“Spider-Man.” He said with a smirk on his face, “So that I’m always with you.” Y/N chuckled, examining the bear. “I think it suits him.” She mimicked his smirk, leaning in to kiss the real Spider-Man

Bombshell

An anon asked for a Reid fic where the reader is British and he gets turned on by her accent.  The team teases him for it and he eventually has to explain to the reader why he gets so weird whenever she talks.  I love this request, I really hope you like it!  Added in here a classic Spencer Reid Quote, shout out to anyone who can find it!

It gets smutty!  Some fluff ensues at the end, it’s super cute!

UnBeta’d so sorry for any errors, also flood warning!

Originally posted by toyboxboy

“As soon as Agent Y/L/N gets here, we are going to start the briefing,” Hotch said to the team, who were all still sitting around at their desks before disappearing into his office.

“Ready for the new team member, pretty boy?” Derek teased from his seat with a smirk.

“What?” Spencer asked nonchalantly.  He knew Y/N was British.  She’d been in for numerous interviews and when she was in the training field, all the other trainees were talking about the ‘British Bombshell’ that was joining the BAU team.  

“You know what,” Derek replied.

“Does Reid have a thing for accents?” Prentiss asked.  She looked at the genius with playful eyes.

“No, he has a thing for British accents,” JJ said, shaking her head.

“I see,” Emily said with a smirk similar to Derek’s.

“I don’t know if I like the looks on your faces,” Rossi said as he walked up.  After inspecting the teasing smiles of the three agents, he clocked the blush on Reid’s face.  “What’s wrong with you, coffee catching up to you this morning?”

Keep reading

Halloween Costume?

Bucky x reader
WC
3500 (I’m sorry)
Warnings swearing, Halloween costumes, talk of masturbation, revealing clothes/school girl outfit, SMUT 18+ only, oral sex (M receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex
Summary You need a last minute Halloween costume and Natasha and Wanda convince you to try on an old outfit which catches Bucky’s attention.
AN This is written for @themanwithovtfear ‘s challenge. My prompts were Are you naked under that thing? and “You’re a real pain in the ass.”

It was a few days before Halloween and you were stuck without a costume. You had planned on going shopping for one but you just ran out of time so you were left rummaging through the clothes you had to try to make do.

Natasha and Wanda were supposed to be helping you but really, they were just pulling out random clothes and having you try stuff on.

You had narrowed it down to a black shirt and tights and you would make yourself some cat ears, or a blue dress that you could use to be either Belle from Beauty and the Beast or Alice from Alice in Wonderland.

“I’m going to the kitchen to see if there’s a white apron I can use,” you announced even though neither of them was listening to you.

When you got to the kitchen, Bucky was sitting there with a cup of tea and a book. You didn’t want to disturb him so you tried to cause as little as a distraction as possible rummaging through the drawers.

His voice was quiet and he startled you, “What are you looking for?”

“Um, just a white apron. I need it for my Halloween costume.”

“You’re looking in the wrong spot.” He got up and walked to the pantry, where he pulled out a drawer filled with different aprons.

You furrowed your brows, “Why wouldn’t the aprons be with the rest of the kitchen linens?” you muttered, putting back table cloths and dish towels.

“What colour do you need?”

“White, solid white if possible.”

Bucky returned to the table with three different white aprons.

“Thank you,” you held up each apron, putting it behind your neck and around your waist until you found the best one. You folded it up and placed it on the table, heading over to the fridge to grab some drinks for yourself and the girls.

Before you left the kitchen, you turned to Bucky, “Sorry for interrupting you.”

When you got back to your room, you put the drinks on your desk.

Natasha tossed something at you, “Put that on.”

Looking at what she threw your way, you laughed and shook your head, “Absolutely not. That’s not an option for a costume.”

“Where is that even from?” Wanda asked, looking for a top you could wear with it.

“I’m not putting it on! It’s my old high school uniform.”

Natasha sat on your bed, legs crossed, “Why do you still have it then?”

You shrugged, “Honestly? Every once in awhile I try it on to see if it still fits. Last time I tried it on, it was snug.”

“Try it on, Y/N. You don’t have to wear it as a costume, but we wanna see you in it. I’m sure you look adorable.”

“Fine,” you huffed, undoing your pants. You quickly pulled up the kilt and fastened the buttons when Natasha threw something at your head.

“What the hell?!” you looked up, glaring at her.

“Knee socks. If you’re gonna try it on, go all out, right?”

“I hate you.”

Wanda emerged from your closet with a white blouse, “Will this fit?”

“Um, probably not. The buttons don’t close over my boobs.”

Natasha howled, “God, yes! Put it on! You’ll look like Britney Spears in that music video!”

You’re a real pain in the ass,” you muttered, even though you were buttoning up the blouse as you spoke.

Pulling on the socks, you looked at yourself in the full length mirror.

“This looks ridiculous!” you shrieked, laughing. The skirt was so short, you could see your underwear underneath, the blouse didn’t button so the top part was left unbuttoned, your bra peeking through. You struck a pose, “There. Eat your heart out, Britney.”

Wanda let out a whistle, “It doesn’t look ridiculous, you look hot.”

“Yeah,” agreed Natasha, “All you need is pigtails and you’d be every guy’s wet dream.”

You gaped at them, “You two are shitting me, right? It’s obvious that the entire outfit doesn’t even fit - I’m busting out of the seams here.” When you saw that they were serious, you shook your head vehemently, hands on your hips, “No! God, no. There is no fucking way I would ever leave this room looking like this! You two are crazy.”

Natasha had pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of you.

“What the fuck, Nat? Delete that.”

“Nope. I’ll show it around, see what people think.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t.”

At that moment, there came a knock on your door.

“It’s open!” called out Wanda.

Bucky walked in, carrying the apron that you had left in the kitchen, “Y/N, you left this in the -” he stopped talking, eyes bugging out and he swallowed, hard, “wha-wha- is that your costume?”

Wanda hid her face behind her hands and giggled, Natasha smirked, “Can you tell her she looks hot?”

Your face was on fire, “Can you tell her that I look ridiculous?” You crossed your arms but all that did was push your breasts together.

“Um,” Bucky swallowed again, “um, here’s your apron,” he tossed it your way, turned on his heel, and walked out the door.

You stood there, flabbergasted at his reaction meanwhile Natasha and Wanda were in stitches.

“What was that?” you frowned.

“Are you - are you serious?” Wanda wheezed.

“What? What’d I miss?”

Natasha looked up at you, “Oh, sweetie, you can’t really be that naive.” When she saw that you were legitimately confused, she smiled at you, “I think you just blew Bucky’s mind.”

“What? No! You’re crazy!”

“Fifty bucks says he’s in his room jerking off right now.”

Your mouth dropped open, “Shut up! He is not!”

Wanda sighed, “Honey, c’mon; his tongue was practically on the floor.”

You shook your head, “No way.” You looked in the mirror again, uncertainty written all over your face, “I look silly.”

“You don’t. You. Look. Sexy.”

Natasha leaned back on the bed, “I’d suggest you go find him or that fifty’s mine.”

You sighed and walked to your closet, “Fine.”

“What are you looking for?”

“A robe? A jacket? Something to cover up with?”

They laughed, “You’re wasting time, sweetie. Just go.”

You paused for a second then dashed out of your room, praying no one would see you. You cut through the living room to get to the elevators but as luck would have it, Sam and Clint were there watching a movie.

“Y/N?!” Sam sounded incredulous, “What are you wearing?”

You froze, “Don’t ask.”

“Oh, I’m asking.”

Smirking at you, Clint let out a whistle, “Well, isn’t that something. That your Halloween costume?”

You answered without thinking, “No! It’s my old high school uniform.”

Both of them just stared at you, mouths open.

“Gah! I know, I look foolish -”

“Nuh uh, you look hot,” Clint interrupted.

“Oh, um, thanks?” you continued on your way to the elevators when you heard Sam mumble behind you.

“Jesus Christ, that skirt is short.”

You had forgotten how short the kilt was and you could just die after flashing Sam and Clint your underwear. You sighed as you got into the elevator, crossing your arms, at least it was pretty underwear.

When you got to Bucky’s room, you stood outside his door, shifting from one foot to the other. How the hell were you going to prove to Natasha that he wasn’t masturbating?! You shook your head, you didn’t think this through. Sighing heavily, you knocked hoping he wouldn’t hear you.

“Come in,” his voice sounded muffled.

Shit. You pushed open his door and walked into the room.

“Hey Bucky,” you started when he walked out of the bathroom wearing only a low-slung towel. “Are you naked under that thing?” you blurted out.

He smirked at you, “Well, I did just get out of the shower, so yeah.” He walked towards his dresser and began rummaging around for some clothes.

You closed your eyes and spit it out, “Well, um, okay, so I thought I had upset you but Natasha and Wanda said no and um, Natasha bet me fifty bucks that when you left my room you came up here to masturbate and I disagreed but now I need to ask you if you did and I feel like a complete idiot and -” you stopped talking when you felt Bucky’s hand on your arm. Your eyes flew open and he was much closer than you had expected, “Oh.”

While your eyes were closed, he had only put on track pants and they weren’t any better than the towel.

“Let me get this straight,” arms crossed across his naked chest, he leaned against his desk, “After I left your room, Natasha bet you that I came up here to masturbate and you disagreed with her so you came up here, dressed like that, to ask me?”

Your eyes widened and you could just die, “Oh my god,” you mumbled, covering your face with your hands, “when you say it like that, it’s the stupidest thing -”

“Did anyone see you come up here?”

You blinked up at him, “What?”

“In your haste to get to me, did you happen to pass by anyone on your way up here?”

You nodded, “Uh, yeah, Sam and Clint.”

You could see the tick in his jaw, “Did they say anything?”

“What does that matter?” When he didn’t answer, you crossed your arms and sighed, “Yes. They commented on the outfit. Sam really seemed to appreciate how short the skirt is and Clint told me I looked hot. What’s your point?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry?”

He smirked at you, “Yes. After I saw you in that getup, I came up here, jumped in the
shower, and jerked myself off thinking about you.”

You frowned at him, “That’s not funny, Bucky. You don’t have to be an ass.”

He shook his head at you, “You don’t even realize how sexy you look, do you?”

You stared at him, unsure if he was pulling your leg or being sincere when he smiled at you, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth, “Where’d you get the outfit from?”

“It’s my old high school uniform,” your voice was soft.

Bucky closed his eyes and groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mumbled, “Lock the door.”

“What?”

“Lock the door, Y/N.”

When you turned to walk towards the door, you heard Bucky let out a low moan and you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder to see if he was alright and you let out a gasp.

Bucky was still leaning on his desk, arms still crossed. His eyes were dark and his track pants were tented with his erection. When he spoke, his voice was gruff, “Come here, Y/N.”

Dazed, you walked over to him, stopping in front of him.

He reached out to you, gently rubbing his hand over your arm, “My god, you have no idea how fucking sexy you look right now.”

You felt your skin get hot and you bit your lip, shaking your head.

His metal hand cupped your face, the coolness of the metal giving relief to your heated cheeks. He ran his thumb over your lip, pulling it out from between your teeth. “There’s so many things I want to do to you.” He pushed off his desk crowding your space, “Tell me, what do you want?”

Your brain was running a mile a minute so you closed your eyes to collect your thoughts for a moment. When you opened them, Bucky was watching you carefully. “You,” you whispered, “I want you.”

He smiled at you, “You’ve got me, baby girl. How do you want me?”

The look in his eyes gave you a confidence that you didn’t normally have. Taking a deep breath you put your hands on his chest and gently pushed him to sit down on the chair. Running your fingers gently down his naked torso, you smiled at him, “I want you just like that.” Leaning forward, you pressed a tentative kiss to his lips.

Bucky grabbed the waist of your skirt and pulled you towards him, deepening the kiss.

You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck, nipping on his lower lip. Breaking the kiss, you pulled back slightly but he moved his hands to your hips, keeping you close to him.

Tilting your head, he pressed kisses to your neck, sucking and biting gently and you sighed again.

“Bucky, wait,” you rest your hands on his shoulders, “hang on.”

He pulled back, looking concerned, “Shit, I’m sorry.” He immediately dropped his hands to his sides, “I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

“No, stop -” you tried interrupting but he kept talking.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, please don’t -”

“Bucky, stop talking,” you gripped at his shoulders, trying to get him to stop talking but he wouldn’t hear you.

He shook his head, “I mean, I’m really sorry and I shouldn’t -”

“Bucky, for fuck’s sake, I wanna suck your cock.”

That shut him right up. “What?”

You smiled at him, your hand brushing lightly against the bulge in his pants and you spoke slowly, “I want to suck your cock.”

His eyes widened, “Are you - are you sure, baby?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

“You don’t have to -”

“Are you trying to talk me out of this, Bucky?” you put your hand on your hip and raised a brow, “seriously?”

“No! No, I just, you know, don’t want you to feel like you have to -”

You rolled your eyes, “Shut up. Seriously. Just, ugh, shut it.” You ran your hands up and down his torso and gave him a smile. Kneeling between his legs, you ran your hands up and down his thighs.

Bucky let out a small hiss and gently put his hands on your head.

Looking up at him, you widened your eyes ever so slightly, it had its intended effect.

“Fuck, Y/N, you look so sweet and innocent like that… You’re gonna fucking ruin me, aren’t you?”

Giggling, you nodded. You kept one hand on his thigh while the other moved to pull down his pants. Bucky lifted his hips up to help you, his thick cock springing free. You swallowed hard; you guessed he was large but you had no idea. Looking up at him, you saw him smirking down at you so you gripped the base of his cock giving the tip a featherlight lick. You could taste the pre-cum that had gathered there and his smirk disappeared as he let out a hiss, jerking his hips up just slightly.

You swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock, then ran your tongue up and down his shaft, teasing him. When you figured he had had enough, you opened your mouth and took as much of him as you could.

“Oh, fuck,” he cried out, hips jerking up as you sucked in earnest.

His hands still on your head, he held your head still as his thrust his cock in and out of your mouth.

When he hit the back of your throat, you could feel yourself gagging, so you relaxed your throat and took him in farther, making him moan. You continued sucking him up, bobbing your head up and down, and you could feel yourself getting wet. Squeezing your legs together, you let out a hum around his cock.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close. Tell me if you don’t want me to come in your mouth.”

Your response was to suck harder, using your tongue to flick against the tip of his cock. You could feel him throbbing as he came with a cry, his hot cum spilling down your throat. You continued sucking him, your hand moving up and down slowly swallowing every drop that he gave. When you were done, you pulled off him and sat back on your heels, using your thumb to wipe away the spit that had dripped down your chin.

“Jesus Christ, you are a fucking sight. Come here,” roughly he pulled you to your feet, slamming his lips against yours in a searing kiss. Bucky gripped your hip with one hand while the other skimmed up the outside of your thigh, leaving goosebumps. He gently ran his fingertips across your ass then squeezed one cheek, “I fucking love how your ass looks in these.”

You gasped when he gave your ass a slap, then moaned when he rubbed his hand over it, “Fuck, Bucky.”

“Yes, Y/N?” he brought his hand to your inner thigh, running it up but stopping just before he reached your cunt.

You tried to rock your hips, trying to get his hand where you needed it the most.

“Oh? You don’t like being teased, baby?”

A thought popped into your head and you blurted it out before you could convince yourself not to, “Need you to touch me, daddy.”

Bucky stared at you, eyes black with lust. “Oh, fuck,” he ground out, his hands going to your underwear, “So wet for daddy.” Pushing them aside, his fingers went to your entrance, spreading your arousal around, his hand still on your hip keeping you still.

“Please, daddy, stop teasing.”

Smirking up at you, he pushed a finger inside you, “Does that feel good, Y/N? Do you like when daddy fucks you with his fingers?” he pushed another finger inside you.

“Fuck, yes. Feels so good,” you moaned, your hands grabbing onto Bucky’s shoulders for support, your hips moving.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a brutal pace, “Touch yourself, baby. Touch that pretty little clit of yours, I want you to come all over my fingers.” He angled his fingers so they brushed against your g-spot.

You brought your hand down to your clit and began rubbing. “Fuck,” you could feel your walls clenching.

“Come for me, baby, you’re so close. I can feel you squeezing my fingers.”

His words put you over the edge, and you cried out his name as you came, “Fuck, Bucky, oh my god, yes!”

He continued to fuck you with his fingers, slowing down as you began whimpering. Without warning, he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and carried you to his bed. He put you down and kissed you, “Get on your hands and knees baby.”

Your legs felt like jelly but you did as he asked.

He raised your skirt and rubbed your ass, “My god, isn’t this something?” Teasing you through your underwear, he leaned his body forward, whispering in your ear, “I’m gonna fuck that pretty little cunt of yours, baby. Make you scream my name again.”

You moaned at his words, pushing yourself against him.

He pulled your underwear to the side and ran his cock against your folds then pushed himself in. “Oh fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.”

You moaned at the full feeling, forgetting your words.

Bucky started pounding into you, gripping your hips so tightly you were sure there’d be bruises.

“God baby, look at how good you take my cock; like it was fucking made for you.”

You bit your lip and whimpered when he pulled you up so your back was flush against his chest.

Thrusting into you, he wrapped his flesh arm around you while his metal hand reached down to your clit, rubbing circles against it, the coolness of his fingers a stark contrast to how hot you were. “C’mon baby girl, come for me, I can feel how close you are.” He pinched your clit and you came hard, his name a prayer on your lips. Riding you through your orgasm, he came a few moments later, coating your walls with his cum.

When you both came down from your highs, he slowly pulled out of you, making you whimper. Chuckling at you, he pulled you into his arms, “Come here, Y/N.”

You let him hold you, pressing gentle kisses to your neck as you closed your eyes, resting against him.

“That was,” he cleared his throat, “that was, wow.”

You giggled, “Right? It was certainly… interesting.”

Holding you tightly in his arms, he chuckled, his chest shaking against your back, “Sure, let’s say that.”

You sighed heavily.

“What’s wrong? Regrets?”

You shook your head, “God no. I just remembered I’m out fifty bucks.”


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summersaltturn  asked:

"Have anyone told you you have the most intimidating nostrils I've ever seen?"

“Yeah, I won an award, junior year,” Derek answers, frowning at his new IKEA (bought and built, all in a soft Henley sweater; Stiles knows, he supervised) book-shelf, like he hasn’t just finished a seven hundred page tome on Egyptian artefacts. A seven hundred page tome on Egyptian artefacts alone.

Derek Hale: epic nerd and assembler of easy-to-build IKEA products. Of course, Stiles thinks, cursing his stupid Professor and DIY kinks. Why not? The worst part is, he doesn’t even think those kinks are sexual. It’s just….a thing. That he has. A Derek thing. The Butterflies That Live In His Stomach were trying so desperately to move on with their lives, too. They’d shopped around. Hired a real-estate agent. They were ready, goddammit!  

Derek settles on a book - Stiles is pretty sure it also has the word ‘artefacts’ in the title - and sighs, all feigned nostalgia, and glances over his shoulder. “It was a golden nose, too. Across the bottom it said,” he pauses, grinning, “Stiles Stilinski needs to get a life.”

Stiles opens his mouth, clutches his chest, because rude much? Is it his fault Derek’s nostrils belong in some kind of anatomy museum? Is it his fault his Saturday nights are spent playing video games in his underwear, when his week days are spent chasing down monsters and researching things like how Scott and Erica managed to contract chicken pox when stabbing them does, like, nothing? (Except get Erica excited because she’s a beautiful, terrifying weirdo.) The moment he tries to tell Derek this, however, a copy of - is that Pride and Prejudice? - is thrown at his head. 

Stiles doesn’t know if he’s more offended when Derek rolls his eyes when it misses him, or the concerned look that crosses his face when the book sails past him and lands in an empty pizza box, like Derek is worried if it’s okay or not. 

And to think, Stiles was going to screw up his courage and finally invite Derek to see a movie this weekend. In an actual theatre. Where people go to be normal. Well, the laugh is on Derek because Stiles is going to buy the big popcorn and he’s going to enjoy it all on his own. 

Yeah, that’ll show him. 

~

“Has anyone ever told you your eyebrows could star in a disturbing kid’s movie about caterpillars?” 

Stiles is drunk. No, he’s wasted. Hammered. Loaded. Completely and utterly shit faced. Which is probably why instead of ending up on his ass on the floor, Derek just pinches the bridge of his nose, tips his head against the back of the couch and says, “what.” Not even a hint of inflection.

This dude, Stiles thinks, and then laughs because, ohmygod, Derek is this dude now. Not that dude or whoa, what are you doing crawling through my window, dude? but this dude. And that’s kind of beautifully heart warming, in its own way. 

Really, Stiles should write into Hallmark. It could be a trilogy. A Gay Trilogy ™. Bisexuals on ice. Except, without the ice because Stiles doesn’t know how to skate. Can Derek skate? Stiles totally bets Derek can skate.   

Speaking of Derek, he’s got this little crinkle on his forehead now, right between his eyebrows, and man, they really are very nice eyebrows. Animated but nice. A little dramatic but nice. Murderous but nice.

“What,” Derek says again, looking more confused than annoyed by the second. Stiles really wants to kiss him.

Instead, he stares. Stares and stares and stares.

Shit.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, he begins laughing uncontrollably and before he knows it, he’s clutching his sides and has his face pressed against Derek’s chest, because the hilarity is killing him. 

Because this is them now. Drinking peach-snaps at Derek’s loft, on a couch filled with throw pillows. Throw pillows. One is even soft and pink and frilly and another has a picture of the pack on it. Granted, no one is looking at the camera but Derek, Boyd and Kira and Derek is not so much looking at the camera as yelling at Stiles (holding the camera) for eating his secret stash of cookies, but it’s nice. It’s a nice picture. There is a plain black pillow too, of course. Somewhere. Stiles might be sitting on it, actually. He figures one can only expect so much when it comes to sour-wolves but Erica glued little cat ears on it last week and Derek said nothing. Fuck, he’d even smiled.

It says a lot about what a secret softie Derek is when it comes to vulnerable, drunk-ass people, because he doesn’t push Stiles away; just lets him laugh and laugh until he passes out, drooling on his chest. 

When Stiles wakes up, Derek’s sweater is pretty soaked through but he hasn’t moved an inch. He does, however, tell Stiles he snores like a deranged goose and that he owes him a pastry later.

He doesn’t even ask for a specific kind, Stiles chastises in his head, falling back to sleep. He’s in love with a pastry idiot. 

~

“Do you know when you smile, you brighten up the whole damn room?”

The question clearly catches Derek off guard because he falls head first…into a duck pond. 

Stiles’ first reaction is to jump in after him - he hates to admit it, but he gets a little nervous around water when Derek is with him; there have been several incidents where he’s unconsciously grabbed Derek’s hand in order to drag him away from pools and, one time, a very large puddle - but when Derek emerges, wearing his someone is about to die face, Stiles can’t be held accountable for the way he falls to the ground because, yup, that’s a tiny, outraged duckling perched on top of Derek’s head.   

“Oh my god,” he yells, rolling onto his back and kicking his legs in the air. He feels like a kid, grabbing his stomach, water practically pouring from his eyes. This was, quite possibly, the best day of his life.

Normally, Derek would be yelling threats - several, in fact, some in Spanish because he’s a show off - but he just stands there….in the middle of a fucking pond. The duckling is still sitting on his head, like he or she plans to set up home there and it’s so adorable Stiles thinks he actually coos out loud.

Still, Derek still doesn’t say anything. Not even when Stiles coos again, very, very deliberately. (And Scott said his middle name could never be Danger, pffft.) Stiles can’t actually guess what Derek is going to do but he doesn’t care. He looks a strange cross between wanting to murder someone - namely, Stiles - and a little kid who was told they couldn’t get a puppy only to get one on Christmas day anyway. 

Mostly, he just looks lost. And wet. Very, very wet. Somewhere out there, someone is playing It’s Raining Men and Stiles wants nothing more than to share this glorious moment with them. He’s just in the process of taking out his phone to at least snap a photo to send to the pack when - 

“Did you mean it?” Derek asks, and man, those water droplets just keep on running, don’t they. 

Stiles grins. “Did I mean for you to fall into a pond and adopt a new feathered friend? No but I think we can all agree-” 

Stiles.” 

Derek growls and it would be effective - at least in getting Stiles to help him out of the pond - if it wasn’t for the fact his ears were turning a little pink. A lot pink, actually and - 

Oh.

Sitting up, Stiles drags his butt over to the edge of the pond.

“Yeah,” he says. “I meant it. I mean, smiles can’t literally light up rooms, I know that, but when you smile it’s like…” He sighs and flaps his arms, suddenly nervous, hitting Derek in the process. The duckling practically glares at him and Stiles briefly wonders if he has competition here. 

Right. Better make this good then. He clears his throat. 

“It’s like, everything just makes sense for a little bit, you know? I look at you and it’s not that smiling is rare for you, at least not anymore, but it’s still pretty thrilling to see it and when you do I’m like, that’s some quality shit right there but then I get confused because it’s like, do I wanna punch it? Kiss it? Pet it? Who knows. Usually it depends on what you’re wearing.” 

Derek blinks and Stiles groans because, yeah, he just said that out loud. In real time. To Mr McGrumpy himself. Who is currently not reacting.

Great.

“Uh, I mean,” he attempts to correct himself but it’s too late. Derek is already slowly pulling him in and pressing his lips to his in what is the single most innocent, chaste kiss of Stiles’ life - because, you know, duckling and head movements - but somehow, it still manages to be perfect. 

“Nice,” Stiles whispers, after, waggling his eyebrows.

Derek snorts and kisses him again.

~

“Turn it off,” Derek whines, nuzzling further into Stiles’ neck. “This is why I leave my phone in the kitchen. Like we discussed.

Stiles tries to swat him, ends up kissing his temple. Sue him, he’s tired. “Says the person who can afford to leave their phone in the kitchen. We don’t all have supernatural hearing, asshole.”

Derek whines again. “You also have the worst taste in ringtones.”

Stiles gasps, suddenly sitting up. Well, he tries to. When your boyfriend is made of muscle and is half lying on top of you, it makes moving a lot more difficult. Not that Stiles is really complaining. Much. “I’ll have you know Bushes of Love is a Star Wars parody classic.”    

Derek rolls his eyes, Stiles can feel it, says, “just answer it, sweetums.” 

“Ugh,” Stiles grimaces, “I already told you I’m sorry for the pet-name thing. It was an accident!”

“Calling me your ‘slutty buddy’ in front of your dad was meant as a pet name?”

“It sounded better in my head!”  

Derek groans and wraps an “exasperated” arm around Stiles’ waist. Oh. So. Exasperated. Stiles grins. “Answer. Your. Phone.” 

Stiles finds his phone on the fifth try.

He has fifteen missed calls, all from Erica. Texts too. Every single one is a link to some article online, followed by a string of heart and eggplant emojis.   

Young Love and the Ugly Duckling’,” Stiles reads, clicking on the link. “Uhhh, Derek?” He prods him. 

What.” 

There’s a picture of us in the online Beacon Gazette,” looking into each other’s eyes, like a pair of love sick fools, Stiles wants to add because, wow, is he really that obvious when he looks at Derek? To be fair though, Derek isn’t much better and he is the one with an angry bird on his head.

He prods Derek again and again until he finally gives in, makes him look at the phone. 

“Huh,” he says, blinking at it. “Fred looks pretty pissed that I’m kissing you.” His face breaks out in a smug grin and Stiles rolls his eyes. Hard. 

“You are aware Fred is a duckling, right?” 

“Yes.” Derek grins harder, showing all his teeth, although his cheeks do colour slightly when he catches Stiles’ eye. 

Stiles sighs, totally not fond. “They couldn’t have come up with a better title, though?” he asks, brandishing his phone. “The Ugly Ducking, really?” 

Yeah,” Derek says, frowning. “I mean, I wouldn’t go as far as to call you ugly.” He laughs and Stiles smacks him across the chest with a loud, “hey!”

They both turn back to look at the picture. 

“We look so stupid,” Stiles whispers, shaking his head and biting his thumb. We fit, he thinks. We look like we fit. 

Leaning in, Derek smiles at him. “We do,” he agrees, burying his face back into the warmth of Stiles’ neck, muttering something about home and content and stupid Star Wars parodies.

Stiles snaps a selfie, captions it goals, and sends it to Erica. 

green-eyed monster

request: Could you do a Steve x reader where Billy hits on her and it forces Steve to admit his felling for the reader? Maybe some like cute fluff??

warning: some cursing

word count: 1,534

“Damn, look at the legs on that one.”

Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the guy standing a few feet away from him. Billy Hargrove was the resident bad boy at Hawkins High School. He was obnoxious and a total asshole.

The two of them clashed on multiple occasions. It was clear that they would never ever be friends and Steve was perfectly okay with that. He didn’t want to associate himself with a guy like Billy.

“The things that I would do to that beauty.” Billy whistled making a couple of guys around him laugh.

Steve had been tying his shoes and trying to ignore the stupid shit coming from Billy’s mouth. He looked up to see the poor girl that had gotten Billy’s current attention.

He was shocked when he saw that it was you.

Keep reading

Adored by Him

A/N: So this fic is inspired by the song “Adored by Him” by Dodie Clark. Yeah that’s really it… 

Warnings: Swearing but that’s normal.

Word Count: 2, 428

Your POV 

I honestly never expected any of this to happen. When I became friends with Dan, I did think he was handsome and funny. But I didn’t think I would fall for him as fast as I did. I always pushed away the feelings until they asked if I wanted to move in with them. Being around him 24/7 made it harder to conceal it so I just let it happen. No one knew about my feelings, except Phil, who figured out a year ago. I always expected the feelings to just go away but they didn’t.

But then she happened. Allison was Dan’s most recent girlfriend. They’ve been dating for many months now, and he was absolutely smitten (cheeky Dodie reference again) with her. He never spoke about how he felt about her, but I was able to tell. The way he looked at her with adoring eyes, and smile at the mere mention of her name. I don’t blame him though. She was beautiful, with her butterscotch hair and her smile that could shine brighter than the sun, I bet anybody would fall her easily. She was literally perfect, and I was just…well me. It was easy to figure out how she made Dan’s soul practically glow, and it hurt. A lot.  

I won’t hate you but oh it stings,

How does it feel to be adored by him? 

It was hard to hate Allison. She was super nice, and had the same sense of humor as Dan. Plus, she makes him happy. That’s what matters, right?


I was sitting on the couch, watching my favorite movie with Phil. It was raining outside so we decided to dedicate the day to watching a bunch of movies. Phil and I were cuddled up under a blanket, eating popcorn. It was relaxing to say the least. Dan was out at Allison’s house so, of course, Phil questioned me about my feelings.

“Are you ever going to tell him, Y/N?” Phil asked, nudging my arm with his elbow.

I pulled up the blanket to my chest, and sighed heavily. “Philly we’ve talked about this before. I’ll only ruin things so-" 

"You should tell him. It’s best to get it out there.” Phil gave me a sympathetic look. It’s like he knew Dan wouldn’t return the feelings but he didn’t want to keep any secrets. To be honest I’m surprised he didn’t tell Dan by now. 

“Phil, look-”

Phil and I jumped off the couch when we heard a loud bang, and stumbling coming from downstairs. We exchanged confused glances, and hurried to the front door to see Dan, stumbling around the entrance of our flat.

“Hi guys!” Dan said, his speech slurred.

“Dan what the hell happened!?” Phil questioned, running up to his best friend’s side and helping him take his shoes off. 

“Heh, Allison and I got in a fight. Stupid really-” He tripped over his shoes that he just took off and laughed. He looked up into my eyes and smiled. “Don’t worry I’m fine.” Dan pushed Phil’s hand off his shoulder, and walked up the stairs by himself.

“Y/N, do you want to make sure he’s okay?” Phil asked, walking up to my side as we slowly followed Dan up the stairs.

“Why?”

“Just talk to him." 

I let out another sigh, and took another glance at Dan, who stumbled into his bedroom. "Okay. I’m not telling drunk Dan anything though.” I pointed my finger at Phil, and let out a small laugh to lighten the mood. Phil shook his head, smacking my hand away and smiling.

“Just go.” He laughed. 

I walked to the kitchen, and poured a small glass of water for Dan. I ignored the aching pain in my chest, and the tears swelling up in my eyes. I put down the glass for a moment to take a deep breath, and recollect myself. After a few minutes, I made my way towards Dan’s room where I saw him softly crying. My heart broke at the sight. It pained me so much to see another girl make Dan hurt. I hated it. I walked towards Dan’s bed and gave him the glass of water. 

“Here you go, sweetie.” I sat at the end of his bed, waiting for his response. 

“Thank you.” Dan sniffed, taking a sip of the water. 

“You want to talk about what happened?” I moved closer to him. His legs were hanging over the edge of his bed and he was staring at the cup of water in his lap.

“She doesn’t trust me.”  

“What do you mean?” I was right by his side after I finished the question. I tried to make eye contact with him but he was so closed off, I decided to keep a little distance.

“She thinks that I’m cheating on her with you.” He lifted his head slowly and stared into my eyes. My face turned red and I stared at the ground. I felt the butterflies in my stomach go crazy, and I had to take a deep breath again to calm myself down. I looked back into his beautiful, chocolate eyes and stared in silence for a while.  

Pretty girl there’s no need to fret

Because it’s midnight, he’s drunk, and you’re the one in his head.

You don’t even have to try at all. 

“I can’t say I’m in love with her but I feel something…strong towards her you know? I’m not even sure if she feels the same. It’s just- It hurts a lot that she doesn’t even trust me. ” Dan’s eyes got glossy, and he stared down at his cup again. All I did was nod my head. I understood where he was coming from. Someone you may be in love with and they might not even return the feeling. How ironic. 

“I understand, Dan. But you should get some rest, then talk to her in the morning.” I flashed a fake smile at Dan and stood up from his bed. I stood in front of him, and he stared into my eyes like he was searching for something.

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re honestly the best.” Dan put his glass down on his bedside table and got up to give me hug. I accepted it, taking in his warmth for that short moment I had. I sighed when he pulled away and sat in his bed. “You want to…stay with me for a bit?” He asked, not making eye contact. I gave him a weak smile, and nodded, sitting next to him as he got comfortable underneath the blanket.

I lost track of time, waiting for Dan to fall asleep. I stared at his sleeping figure for god knows how long, I felt like a complete creep. He looked so peaceful with his head resting in my lap it was hard not to. I gently stroked his hair as he slowly fell asleep, his arms wrapped around my body as his head rested on my leg. I checked the time on his phone, 1:00 am. I noticed his lock screen, expecting it to be a picture of him and Allison. But instead it was a picture of him, me, and Phil at VidCon on our day off. I smiled at it, but quickly my smile faded when a text from Allison popped up. I decided to ignore it, and finally leave Dan’s side. 

I crept towards the kitchen, hoping not to wake Dan or Phil up. However, to my surprise Phil was standing in the kitchen, drinking some tea while leaning against the counter. 

“So, how did it go?” He asked, staring at me. 

“She doesn’t trust him apparently. Allison thinks he’s cheating on her with…me.” I sighed. All my emotions that I’ve been holding in all night were surfacing, and I wasn’t going to let it happen. “Um, he’s asleep now. He asked me to stay with him for a little while and I lost track of time because he was…uh-" 

"Cuddling with you?” Phil flashed me a smile, but it faded when he looked into my eyes and noticed the tears coming up. He gave me a sympathetic look and walked closer to me. “You should just tell him so he knows. So you don’t have to keep hurting. He will understand, Y/N." 

"I know Phil. It’s just- it hurts seeing them together so much. And of course I want him to be happy! But that selfish part of me wants him to be happy with me. God, it fucking hurts.” I felt a warm streak roll down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away, looking away from Phil. 

“Y/N.” I knew he was trying to make me look at him, but I hated being this vulnerable. “Y/N.” I gave in and stared into Phil’s icy blue eyes. It was full of sympathy, and I couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Phil, don’t look at me like that please. It’s only making me feel worse.” I felt more tears surfacing and let out a heavy sigh. I heard Phil mumble a small apology and he embraced me in a warm, loving hug. At that point I finally broke. I started sobbing into his shirt, with every sob he would hold me tighter, and tell me everything was going to be okay. He gently ran his hands through my hair. I pulled away from Phil, and sniffed, gently rubbing my nose. 

“Y/N, I know it hurts but-” Phil paused in the middle of his sentence and stared behind me. I looked up to Phil, then turned around to see what he was looking at. There was Dan, his hair curly and disheveled, and his empty glass in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Dan asked, noticing my red, puffy eyes and the tear stains on Phil’s shirt. He looked into my eyes and I could tell he was concerned.

“N-Nothing.” I lied.

“Obviously there’s something wrong, Y/N, tell me.” Dan walked over to the counter and placed his cup on the surface. I looked up to Phil, and nodded, signaling for him to give us some alone time. When Phil left the room, Dan pulled me into a tight hug, and for the second time that night I broke down. “Want to talk to me about what happened?”

I pulled away from Dan and stared at the floor. “It’s not really about w-what happened. It’s more…what’s happening.” I let out a fake chuckle. Dan shot me a confused look, and backed up to lean against the counter.

“Tell me what’s going on or so help me god Y/N I will-”

“Okay. Um. I guess.”

“Spit it out, please.” Dan tilted his head, giving me a worried look. God I can’t handle this anymore.

“Okay, you don’t even have to respond to this…but I really need it out in the open.” I could feel my heart beating out of my chest, and I took deep unsteady breath. “I just need you to know that…that” I stared into Dan’s eyes and I could feel my heart aching all over again. I felt tears pouring out of my eyes and saw Dan’s tall figure making his way over to comfort me again but I pulled away.

“Please don’t. You’re just going to make this harder.”
“Y/N tell me. Please, you’re making me worried.” I realized that Dan and I were standing really close, closer than we usually are. I looked into his beautiful eyes like it was the last time then stared at the floor.

“I think I’m in love with you.” I mumbled. 

“What? Speak up, love.” Dan said softly. 

“Fuck.” I ran my fingers through my hair and avoided eye contact at all costs. “I think I’m in love with you and it fucking stings so much to see you and Allison together. I mean I don’t blame you, or her. Allison is like the definition of perfect. I mean she makes me look blind with how adventurous she is and you look at her like the world is fucking perfect. It’s so stupid to think that I could compare to her. But god, do I wish it was me in your arms instead of her. Don’t even get me started about how I feel about you because there is too much history to even go over.” I shook my head, staring at the ground, watching my tears hit the white kitchen tiles.

“Y/N, can you look at me please?” Dan was still speaking softly. 

“Dan I told you, you don’t have to even say anything. You could just simply ignore it and leave, I’ll get the point." 

"Look at me, Y/N.” Dan said, more stern but still full of care. I rolled my eyes and stared into his eyes. Even though my vision was blurred I could still see the small glimmer in his eyes. “I’m sorry for-”

“Dan I told you, you don’t have to do this." 

"Y/N, we need to talk about this. We can’t just ignore it.”

“Well I’ve been ignoring it for 3 years now, so I think I’m good. I know the speech you’re about to give me and I just…” I let out a muffled sob into my hand, and looked back up to him. “Please I can’t take this right now." 

"Please let me just-" 

"Dan, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. I really need fresh air…I’ll be back in a bit." 

Dan looked over to the clock on the oven, and slowly moved towards the door. "It’s 1:20, Y/N you can’t go outside alone." 

"Well I am, so please move.” Dan was blocking the doorway. I made eye contact with him and got lost in his eyes again. I felt like time slowed down when we stared into each other’s eyes, but I broke the contact because I felt more tears coming. Dan reluctantly walked up to me, opening his arms to give me a hug. But instead, I pulled away from him. 

“I’m so sorry.” I mumbled, and ran down the stairs to the front door, putting on my shoes and coat. 

“Y/N wait-”

I left before I could hear anymore. I let the cold London air enter my lungs, as I tried to relax from what happened, and trying to decide if I should go back and face Dan, or go to a friend’s house. I ultimately decided on staying outside for a while. Sitting on a park bench staring at the trees in the park as I replayed what happened through my head. 

What am I going to do?

A/N: Second part? Or leave it there? YOU DECIDE

The Proposal

“Oh, look, Draco. It’s Mr. O’Sullivan, the Arithmancer. We should introduce ourselves,” Harry said in an overly-chipper tone.

Draco eyed his boyfriend speculatively over his glass of champagne. Harry usually hated Ministry events such as this, and he hated meeting the people there even more. Draco did not for one second believe that Harry wanted to meet Mr. O’Sullivan, especially considering that the man’s job was one of the most boring in the Wizarding World.

“Should we now?” Draco asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

“I just said we should, didn’t I?” Harry kept talking in that annoyingly buoyant way and Draco rolled his eyes.

“If you insist, love.”

Harry and Draco crossed the crowded room, Harry’s hand placed possessively on Draco’s lower back. The smile on Harry’s face was about a mile wide when they reached Mr. O’Sullivan. Draco was smiling too, but not in the manic way that Harry was, his was simply a polite nice-to-meet-you smile.

“Mr. O’Sullivan?” Harry said and the middle-aged man who had been gazing out the window turned to face the two gentlemen.

“Yes? Oh, my. It’s you.” O’Sullivan’s eyebrows lept up to where his hairline should’ve been, had he not been bald. Draco’s smile widened almost imperceptibly, as he found it quite amusing when people twice his age were awed to be in the presence of his boyfriend.

“Yes, it’s me,” Harry responded. “I’ve heard that you’re a very talented Arithmancer and I wanted to introduce myself.”

O’Sullivan turned a horrid shade of scarlet as he said, “Oh, my. Oh, my. That’s very kind of you, Mr. Potter, but I’m just one of many Arithmancers in the world. But you, Mr. Potter, there’s only one of you. It’s such an honor to meet you.” O’Sullivan gazed admirably at Harry and only when Draco cleared his throat did he seem to realize that Harry was not alone. “Oh dear. I’m sorry. It’s an honor to meet you as well, Mr. …”

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” Draco said, forcing himself to ignore the way O’Sullivan’s eyes widened as he realized that Harry Potter was accompanying an ex-Death Eater.

When O’Sullivan failed to reply, Harry spoke up, “He’s my fiancé.”

It was now Draco’s turn for his eyebrows to rise to his hairline and his eyes to widen. He and Harry weren’t engaged. If they were, Draco was fairly certain he would know about it.

“Congratulations,” O’Sullivan said. He didn’t sound like he meant it.

“Thank you,” Harry said, his smile as ardent as ever. He promptly led still-confused Draco away from O’Sullivan without so much as a goodbye.

Once they were a safe distance away from O’Sullivan, Draco blurted, “Engaged? Are you completely insane? We’re not engaged!”

Harry winked and replied, “Not yet, we’re not.”

Draco looked at his boyfriend like he was a madman, but was too stunned to argue.

“Oh, look!” Harry’s gleeful voice rang out like a bell. “There’s Mrs. and Mrs. Oswell. Let’s go meet them!”

And for the rest of the night, Harry kept introducing Draco to everyone they encountered as his fiancé. It wasn’t until they were strolling down the streets of Muggle London on the way back to their flat that Draco got to question Harry.

“What the fuck just happened?” Draco said. He tugged on Harry’s hand and whined, “You can’t just go around telling people we’re engaged when we’re not!”

“We will be, soon enough,” Harry said cryptically.

“That’s the most vague yet prophetic thing I’ve heard that didn’t come out of Dumbledore’s mouth.”

Harry chuckled and smirked smugly.

“Are you going to propose or what?” Draco asked anxiously.

“Yes,” Harry answered.

“You are? When?”

“Soon.”

Draco elbowed Harry and scowled. “Soon? That’s all you’re going to give me?”

Harry laughed again. “Yep. Deal with it, Malfoy.”

“Are you kidding me?” Draco let go of his boyfriend’s hand and pouted pettishly.

“Calm down. You knew this was going to happen soon anyway. You’ve been leaving ‘hints’ for me all over the place. You think I didn’t notice when our Froot Loops were transfigured to look like rings?”

Draco had stopped listening to Harry and started ranting about all the things he needed to know about the proposal. “Is it going to be fancy and romantic with rose petals and all that? Or are you just going to hide the ring inside a burrito like a hooligan? Because, I love you Harry, but I’m not willing to risk my life by eating something that contains a ring I could choke on. Which means that I can’t eat anything until you propose. Oh, and what if it’s in public? I’ll have to practice my shocked face. You’re not going to have, like, a secret photographer or anything who jumps out and takes pictures when you get down on one knee, are you? I think I might have a heart attack if you do. Shit. And now I’m also going to have to look really nice everyday.”

Harry shook his head in amusement and touched Draco’s cheek fondly. “Slow down, babe. Everything’s going to be okay. And by the way, you already look really nice.”

Draco sighed and allowed Harry to pull him into his arms. “Thanks, love, but there’s a difference between casually looking really nice and getting engaged looking really nice.”

Harry chuckled. He broke the hug so he could kiss Draco. “Well, I think you look nice enough to get engaged right now,” Harry said slyly.

“You mean-” Draco started and Harry nodded.

“The ring is in my pocket,” Harry told him. Draco nearly stopped breathing right then and there.

Harry smiled as he got down on one knee and retrieved a white velvet box from his dress robes. He snapped open box to reveal two rings, one gold and one silver. “Dra-” was all Harry got to say before Draco interrupted him.

“Yes,” Draco said, his eyes fixed on Harry’s.

“You have to let me ask you first,” Harry pointed out.

Draco frowned. “Fine.”

“Draco Malfoy, I love you and I cannot imagine a life in which I don’t. You-”

“Yes,” Draco said, cutting off Harry again.

“Not yet,” Harry said, a bit irritably.

Draco rolled his eyes and Harry went on, “You’re my keeper, my person, my everything. I want you to be my husband too. Will you-”

“Yes.”

“Stop doing that. I’m trying to make a memorable moment here.”

“Right now the only thing memorable about this moment is how much of an insufferable prat you’re being.”

Harry scoffed. “I’m the insufferable prat?”

Draco groaned loudly. “You’re killing me, Potter. Would you just ask me to marry you already?”

“Fine,” Harry said petulantly. Then, tenderly, “Will you marry me?”

There was a beat of silence and Draco didn’t say anything.

“Are you for real right now?” Harry asked.

“Well, I don’t know if I want to marry you anymore. You were being mean,” Draco said, crossing his arms childishly.

“You kept interrupting me! Will you just fucking marry me already?”

Draco stroked his chin, pretending to consider before finally answering, “Yes. Of course I will, you git.”

Harry grinned and laughed. He slid the silver ring onto Draco’s finger and the gold onto his own. After shoving the box back into his pocket, he stood again and pecked Draco lightly on the lips.

“That’s it? That’s our engagement kiss?” Draco said.

Harry laughed wickedly and dragged Draco into a nearby alley.  

“No, this is our engagement kiss,” he said. He pulled Draco into a deep, passionate kiss and Draco Disapparated in an instant, apparently very eager to celebrate the engagement in a deeper, more passionate way.

Ripped Jeans

Im Jaebumx Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Genre: Thigh Riding Smut

Summary: Jaebum had been thinking about a certain kink all day long, even when he shouldn’t have been

Author’s Note: Send all the holy water y’all have, and drink some yourself. We all need jesus.
Inspired by this:

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Mystic Messenger Guys Pregnancy Series - Finding Out #1

Jumin Han

Being the wife of the executive director of the C & R International was never an easy thing to do. Yes, Jumin made you feel as if you were the only girl in the world. He was always showering yo with love and affection…and as much as you hate to admit it…he always showered you with gifts. He spoiled you rotten but you never let it go to your head. Yes,being his wife was a blessing and you could not be any more grateful. However, being his wife, also made it impossible to be out of the public eye. Everywhere you went, someone was there taking pictures, Everything you did was already on the news. And honestly it was making you sick, physically sick. You woke up one morning to immediately rushing to the nearest bathroom and throwing up. You groaned as you finally got the chance to breathe. You thought for a moment before widening your eyes. You quickly stood up and rushed to lock the door  before searching the cupboards for a pregnancy test. You always had one in case one of your nights with Jumin got a tad reckless. You waited anxiously as the test began to work its magic..and there it was…a blue cross. 

Yoosung
To you, you and Yoosung had the perfect fairy-tale life. After the whole big bang that happened during that first 12 days when you first joined the RFA, you and Yoosung finally managed to meet. After many dates, game nights of LOLOL and a very awkward marriage proposal that involved him spilling spaghetti on you and you chocking on a piece of cake, the two of you were finally married. He had finally stop playing LOLOL as much as he used to and  became a veterinarian, to everyone’s surprise, but not to you, to you he was the hardest working guy ever. Everything was perfect…until a few days ago. You had began to feel just downright awful. You had headaches,stomach pains and had been sick quite a lot. Yoosung, being the worrywart he was, fretted lover as if you were dying. You promised him that you were fine and that you booked a doctors appointment. After calming him down and convincing him to go to work, You got dressed and headed towards the doctors where they examined you. You waited patiently for the doctor to come back and when he did, he uttered a sentence that almost made you faint
“Congrats Ms.Kim, you are pregnant”
707
You and Saeyoung were not married. Yet. And wanna guess why? He had his heart set on marrying you in a space station. Yes , a space station.You were completely fine with it. I mean how long have you known him for? You knew that he was absolutely crazy and had the wildest ideas. But you still loved him, and he loved you., The kisses, the hugs, the late night conversations, the all day gaming sessions, all those moments were so precious to you and the same to him. Everything would be perfect. Only if your parents would like Saeyoung. However, it was quite the opposite. They hated him. They thought he was too loud, too irresponsible, a criminal, a shady guy. They wanted you to have nothing to do with him. And it broke your heart, and Saeyoungs too. Enough to get him into another mental breakdown, but you helped him out of it. It was you and him against the world. However, you did still love your parents. But they basically disowned you when you rejected their request for you to break up with Saeyoung. But..How would they react when that afternoon, on the toilet seat.. that you were pregnant with Saeyoung’s Child?
Zen
Zen had been on a stage tour recently and , lets be honest, you have never felt as lonely as you were now. You missed his presence, his cheesy pick up lines, his kisses, his hugs, his muscles and oh the list just goes on and on. Its like that saying ‘ absence make the heart grow fonder’. You just missed him desperately. Before he had left, you both had a memorable night, just so that the two of you left on a high note. You had been married for a few months now and the fans gladly accepted you. Well…Echo girl and her fans still held a bit of a grudge. But you never paid much attention to them. Recently you had been feeling sick. You had a fever and was throwing up quite a lot. You took the day of work and called Zen, who immediately started panicking and began to already plan his way home. You stopped him and said that you were fine before laughing. You suddenly froze and it was as if the cogs in your mind had began turning. Sexy night + Fever + Throwing up. You face-palmed and began to laugh hard. To the point tears were coming out of your eyes. You even forgot that Zen was still on the phone very confused. You sighed as you picked up the phone and said in between giggleS
“Ohh Don’t worry sweetie, i think im just pregnant!”
“…..”
“WHAT?!”
Saeran
You and saeran were far from being the perfect married couple, but you were both happy. He still had mental breakdowns and he still was quite isolate and reclusive, but could anyone blame him? After all the crap with Rika, the mystic eye, His mother, His father ,V and his brother, you would be worried if he wasn’t affected in some way. But he trusted you. He let you into his heart. You offered him the love he was deprived from for so long.You stayed by his side no matter what he did or said to you. But honestly, it was not easy. Sometimes the hurtful words he said to you, really hit you hard. You knew that he would never actually mean it. You knew he was not being his real self. But you couldn’t help but fee a tiny bit hurt. And this was one of these times. You had been throwing uo for the past few days and it had finally made him snap. 
“WHAT THE F*** S WRONG WITH YOU, YOU STUPID LITTLE COW”. He screamed out. And you just accepted it. Because you loved him. You knew he didn’t mean it. But, the tears on your face came down even harder. This time hurt much more than the others. This was because..
You were pregnant with his child.


V
V treated you as if you were his queen. He loved you so much and you loved him back. You were not married nor engaged. Just boyfriend and girlfriend living happily together in his apartment. You loved him, you really did , with all your heart. But you feared that he did not love you as much as you wished. And that was because of her. You glanced at the small photo V kept on his desk. You glared cold at it. Rika. The woman who injured V so horridly. Who hurt Yoosung, Saeyoung, Saeran and Jumin emotionally. You could not understand how V could still love her for such a long time. He finally broke up with her once Zen and Yoosung sent her to a mental health rehab centre. And that is when he began to develop feelings for you. You were so happy with him, but you couldn’t not help feeling just a bit hurt that he was still in love with her. But, what could you do, they were engaged after all. Anyone would be hurt by that. And he was still refusing the eye surgery and time was running out. He was not listening to anyone, not you, Jumin, anyone. And it was worrying you. But perhaps..Perhaps you being pregnant could change everything? Surely, SURELY, he would consider having the eye surgery if it meant possibly never having the chance to see his own son or daughter…


AHHHH I DID IT! Okay i really wanted to start a pregnancy series with mystic messenger cause lets all be serious…its what we all need. AND THANK YOU FOR A 100 FOLLOWERS AGDWEFBJEIOFIEJFOIZ. I was so happy but yeah! do you like this idea?if so please like reblog follow and request for more!!

All I’ve got II pt. 2

Jungkook x reader, Namjoon x reader

genre: contents of smut, slight fluff, angst, tattooed!jungkook, badboy!jungkook

word count: 12.1k


Jeon Jungkook was a tall guy, handsome with all those ethereal artwork tattooed on his arms..and your best friend. He was by your side whereas you faced a painful heartbreak, caressing your hurt soul for as long as you needed him. But how much can a friendship withstand if one of the two develops feelings? 

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Write me another story

Write me a world where Love is to Love, not blood and quarreling and bitterness

Write me a world where a Godfather is worth more than an aunt who neither cares nor loves

Write a world with justice

Write me a world where someone stopped to listen to Sirius Black.

Write us a world where Mad-eye stood up for Sirius’ chance to defend himself because “it doesn’t matter how it looks, dammit, vigilance goes both ways, you watch your back against the people you fight with but you watch their backs too” where Minerva trusted her gut “I don’t know, Albus, remember those boys…” where Dumbledore used his political clout and paid attention and made a difference

Write me a world where there was time in the rejoicing of the aftermath of Voldemort’s defeat to stop and, not recoiling in horror from betrayal and murder and a decimated corpse, locking it up and throwing away the key, to take it and examine it and think for a second before destroying another life

Write me a world where a young man, terrified and heartbroken and completely lost, is handed a new world and a tiny human life as he walks out of Ministry security

Write me a world where a one-year-old laughs for the first time in a week when he sees his godfather, who comes for dinner every thursday night and throws him highest in the air - even higher than daddy - where is daddy - begins to whimper then laughs again when Sirius picks him out of Minerva’s arms

Write me a Deep Magic written into a stronger, stranger, older bond than DNA, a Dumbledore who sits his old pupil down in his office (with Snape - eyes red and face haggard - and Minerva and Flitwick standing behind) and sits down between them on the desk this child who wraps one tiny chubby hand around one of each of their fingers and grips tight; A Dumbledore who explains as best he can to an exhausted starving 21-year-old “Sirius, Harry’s mother gave her life for son… you are his Godfather and the one they both loved the most, will you love Harry like they did, will you protect him? Because I believe -” And a Sirius Black who cannot shut up (Sirius Black never could shut up), who blurts “YES yes of course please Dumbledore let me look after him, he’s mine now, its my job - I’m sorry I should have - my fault, it’s my (Minerva steps forward and lifts a hand towards his shoulder - he cannot stop saying my fault since it happened) - and, when Harry starts to whine again at the distress in his voice - “dear Merlin he’s soaking why has no-one changed him yet, I’m sorry, lil’ man -” (and Minerva lets the hand fall).

Write me a new visitor at the Weasleys’ that night, because “really, Sirius, you can’t keep him there now the place is freezing and trust me dearie I’ve got seven already one more bottle won’t make a difference now go and have a shower and NO I won’t hear of it you are STAYING THE NIGHT now look Bill dear, yes, he’s Harry, you’re right, no, a bit younger than Ron, I think, that’s right Sirius dear isn’t it, he’s…” but Sirius has already gone for a shower and the hot water rushes down his back like pure relief that finally, finally, here’s something like normality and finally, finally, he lets himself cry for his best friends, for his brother, for one more orphan in the world.

Write me a broken man with red eyes and a child who is only happy because he doesn’t understand, but a boiled egg is the best thing either of them could have possibly seen on that night.

Write me a Remus who appears in the middle of the chaos which is egg-and-soldiers-night at the Weasleys’ with a bang that sends the children shrieking and grabs his friend and hugs him tight “damn you damnyoudamnyoutohell Black don’t you ever ever do that to me again where’s Harry” and they both break down again and Molly scolds him for swearing and makes them a cup of tea and Arthur chases the children up to bed and they all sit down in the living room and take stock of this new world and try to tell themselves that now the children will grow up safe, that this is what Prongs and Lily were fighting for.

Write me a Minerva who goes to the Potters’ - and a Hagrid who absolutely insists on ‘helping her’ - and extracts what she can from the rubble and grim-facedly leaved the rest with the wizards who’ve come to begin the clearout and they bring Harry’s cot and blanket (miraculously, somehow, only just a little singed) to the Weasleys’ that very night. Write me a Sirius Black who holds a cup of tea (he never somehow found it in himself to tell Molly he really doesn’t care for tea) tight between his hands and begins to realise slowly (and it will be a slow, slow realisation, but eventually he will get there) that he’s not alone. Write me a Sirius who is exhausted and lost and angry and scared and sad and a room a little too full up of friends and family, and write me hope.

Write me a Harry who smiles a big grin full of exactly three teeth at Kreacher and a Sirius who swallows hard and resolves that this joyful little person won’t grow up in a house full of hate like he did. Write me a master and house-elf who gradually gradually learn to tolerate each other, over many years and with many a bitten-back word.

Write me a Remus who comes over most nights and spends periods living with his friend and their boy, who helps, with Kreacher a bit (he knows what it’s like to be ignored and marginalized and shunned and if Kreacher knew what Remus really was who knows what he’d say, but there’s something between them nonetheless), with Harry more (here, Padfoot, let me read to him - oh Moony thank Merlin I swear one more time through ‘Percy and his bloody purple wand’ and I’ll” - “ok, shh, give him here, come on Harry-my-lad…” ) and with Sirius a lot. Write me friends who help each other heal, and get used to Muggles confusing them for a couple with a son, and the varied reactions and bizarre questions that entails, and when Remus’ mother finally quietly passes away, he moves in for real. Write me a Remus who insists that he cannot take his friend’s charity, and even with all James’ money in trust for Harry and for Sirius as his guardian and all the Black family fortune going to waste will not be convinced until Sirius reaches out and takes his friend’s hand in both of his and says Remus I need you here - and Remus scoffed because Sirius was always such a drama queen and it’s been long enough now that they can joke about this - but at the same time, it’s not quite a joke, and Remus doesn’t suggest leaving after that.

Write me every Sunday lunch at the Weasleys and Harry round to be babysat whenever Sirius has something to take care of or needs time to himself, and Molly trying to teach Sirius how to change a nappy and realising it’s completely unnecessary because who really thinks Lily Potter would have had Sirius hanging about in her house twice a week hyping up her boy and not making himself useful in the slightest, of course he’d have learnt how to change a nappy.

Write me a Minerva who comes by frequently and has Harry to tea at Hogwarts every so often when he gets a bit older, for James and Lily’s sake and to check that young Black isn’t raising too much of a ragamuffin - and for the most part, she and Molly and Remus between them manage a healthy level of manners in a fairly ordinary 6,8,11-year-old boy.

Write me a Harry and Ron who grow up together, an extra slim (but never skinny) dark-haired, pale (but never unhealthily so) brother to an unruly pack of seven, an overgrown garden to race toy brooms in, gnomes to be bitten by and a mother to scold all her children indiscriminately.

Write me a Sirius who comes to collect his godson in time to stay for tea and Molly who says “look there now Sirius!” and Sirius looks out and sees his boy - easy to spot out of among the five gingers fighting over a broom - break away from the group and jump and swing the old cleansweep under him before he hits the ground and zoom away around the treetops laughing “no hands Fred you gnome-end-sucker!” and Sirius feels something sharp clench in his heart because he looks so like James (and James is never ever going to do that stupid move ever again) so it’s grief, fresh as the first month, but also he is six, how can he already do that jump thing? so it’s also pride and, scariest of all he is six, that language - and he finds there are tears streaming down his cheeks and he can’t speak too well and Molly just sits him down and gives another of her interminable cups of tea (he doesn’t mind them so much now) and pats him on the shoulder, and he glances up and sees that there are tears in the corners of her eyes, too. But he drinks the tea and it passes and by the time the children come in complaining about something and clamouring for cake there’s no sign of anything amiss.

Write me a Harry who grows up with a godfather who makes mistakes, who cries and shakes some nights with flashbacks that overtake him, who never had good parents of his own and isn’t too sure what they look like exactly, but damned if he won’t do all that he can for his friend’s boy - and not even his friends’ boy, either, his boy, his Harry, because really, in the end, what is a godson but a son by another name, and what is blood but love? Write me a Harry who grew up with stories of his parents from anyone who would tell them, pictures around the house (Sirius wonders whether to black Peter out of them, but this house has had enough blacked-out faces, and that was the best part of his life, after all) and no real family, but plenty enough friends to be getting on with.

Write me parties at Christmas with the old Order and their children because if there’s one season Sirius will make an effort for its Christmas and Grimmuld Place is the best venue for things like this. Write me a house too big for just two lads, but more often than not it’s three, (eventually permanently three) and sometimes more, (Hagrid fills up a room himself, every so often in the holidays) and Sirius is never ever used to how much noise and life one 9-year-old boy can instill in the gloomiest of houses, and surely he never had this much energy? (On reflection, yes, he did, definitely, probably more).

Write me a Dumbledore who watches and waits and prays - very un-wizardly habit, that, but he always had his eccentricities - and hopes. He hopes he is right and he hopes against hope that it will never be necessary to test his theories and Voldemort will never return and he hopes that nothing will change. He hopes that he was right to make the choices he did. But when Harry arrives at Hogwarts at the age of 11, healthy and happy and loved, with someone to hug him goodbye at the station and a friend to sit with on the carriage already and a “yes!” fistpump when the hat shouts “GRYFFINDOR!” which - though he will never ever know it, who is to tell him? - is exactly the same gesture his father made when he received the same sorting twenty years ago - when he sits down with a little bit of overawed wonder in the green eyes, which is exactly how his mother looked, and waves to Hagrid, and turns to speak to the bushy-brown-haired girl next to him because she looks even more scared than he feels and Remus told him he should look for someone who looks like that and say hello, and starts to tell her what he plans to write home to his godfather about, and what will she write to her parents, he knows they’ll be so excited to hear about all of this I mean LOOK at it, look at Hogwarts, isn’t this GREAT? (and the very tense Muggle-born girl is relaxed enough to listen to someone else for the first time since Neville introduced himself on the train) - Dumbledore smiles. He won’t know how his choices pan out, and he won’t know what the future holds - but right now (and Minerva, watching the Sorting but with a smile to spare for her young Harry James, so grown up, agrees) it seems like the best that could have been.

A small collection of high school aus! There’s so many wonderful ones out there that has yet to be read!

And Then There Is No Mystery Left (Baby, I’m Sweet On You) -  Swing Set in December - 1k - Teen

Stiles has no idea why Derek is sitting at his lunch table.

As Good As The Real Thing - literaryoblivion - 5k - Mature

He’s maybe had a crush on Stiles for going on two years now, but there’s no way he’s ever going to act on it or say anything. But, he’s memorized all of Stiles’s quirks and habits because he and Stiles have been in the same history class for two years now, and he always ends up sitting by him. However, he and Stiles have had limited interaction with one another, which is fine. Derek can subside on his daydreams of Stiles. He can live the rest of his high school career on his fantasies alone.

That is until their teacher assigns them to be partners for a project.

Awful, Wonderful You -  stilinskisparkles - 16k - Mature

Truth be told, Derek was suffering from the mild delusion he lived in all summer wherein he actually thought this year might be different, and he might, perhaps, be able to bury the hatchet with Stiles and start over.

The superglue that’s destroyed a ninety dollar pair of pants, however, says otherwise. Derek knows how this play goes down; eventually, he’s going to have to climb out of the pants and trudge back to his dorm half naked. Stiles will gloat for a damn week; Derek will have to put up with constant remarks about Stiles getting him out of his pants… Dammit, he’s actually going to get Derek out of his pants, and it’s not even close to the way he pictured it happening.

Betting On Forever -  mrstotten, veritas_st - 17k - Mature

It’s not like Stiles spends a huge amount of time thinking about it. But when he does it seems strange, good strange, but strange nevertheless, he cant really put a finger on when they decided to become civil to each other let alone friends, best friends even.

Him…and Derek Hale. Can you imagine it?

Binomial Coefficients - DevilDoll - 20k - Teen

In which brainy freshman Stiles Stilinski wants star quarterback Derek Hale to join the math team, AKA math nerds in love.

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Harry Styles - “Confessions”

I completely left this open(and have already planned) for a part two. So… if you would like a part two let me know! Enjoy! And be ready to have your heart broken.

Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight


Harry sat on the edge of his bed in Los Angeles, his head in his hands, as he tried to hold back the tears and will his breathing to stay even and calm. His phone lay beside him, the screen still lit up to show him his recent calls - the last of which had just turned his world upside down. 

He eventually sits up, letting out a large sigh as his large ringed hands push through his short floppy hair, pushing it back from his forehead. His green eyes look across the room where on top of the chest of drawers sat a picture of the person he cared about most in the world. He stared at your smiling face, his own smiling face next to you and that’s when the tears came. He was going to lose you, he knew that he was. 

Just then his phone began to ring beside him. He dreaded it was her, the person who had called a few minutes before him and broke the news but instead he saw your face appear on the screen and that, in that moment, may have been worse. He picks up the phone, staring down at your picture as the phone continues to ring. 

He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t hear your voice, happy and still in love with him, when he now knew what he did. He couldn’t tell you over the phone. He had messed up, he knew that, and he had to say it to your face. After the phone finally stopped ringing he gave a sigh and pulled himself up and off the bed. 

He had things he needed to do in LA, meetings to attend, interviews to be done but he couldn’t. He needed to get to you and tell you as soon as he could so he called Jeff. He couldn’t say it though, he couldn’t tell him exactly the situation, just that he had to go home - and now. 

Once he landed in London the next day, his hands were shaking, his palms were sweaty and his breathing was shallow as he sat in the back of the car headed towards your house. He kept trying to play out and plan his words for this conversation. How would he go about it? Where could he possibly start? He had so many confessions to make and what he was most afraid of was the inevitable - losing you. He also knew he wouldn’t be able to handle that hurt, devastated, and heart-broken face that he was soon going to see before him. 

The idea brought tears to his eyes. He rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, grinding away the tears harshly. He hated himself, his entire body was full of regret, remorse, and dread knowing that he could never take this back. 

“Hello?” Harry calls a few moments later as he enters your shared home. He knew you were home, it being your day off work and your car was parked out front but he heard nothing. “Love?” He calls out again. 

“Harry?” He finally hears from the kitchen. He couldn’t will himself to move towards your voice. He wanted to run back out the door to never have to face this situation, he wanted to pretend everything was okay. But it just wasn’t. And never would be again. “Harry!” You gasp once you see your tall, tattooed and handsome boyfriend standing in the entryway of the living room. 

“Hey.” He mutters, barely able to get his voice above a low gravel. He clears his throat and puts his bag down at his feet, sliding off his jacket. He was trying to delay this, anything to keep the truth from coming out. 

“What are you doing home? Why haven’t you answered my calls in two days?” You were full of questions but then in that moment you didn’t care. You had missed Harry so much and if he was home - that was all that mattered. So, you cross the room and burrow yourself into his chest. You wrap your arms tight around his torso, taking in that familiar scent of his cologne while his arms wrap around your shoulders. He buries his face in your hair, his eyes closing as the tears began to slide down his cheeks. This was surely the last moment he would hold you in his arms and he wanted it to last as long as possible. “What’s going on?” You question, looking up at him. You gasp when you take in his tears. “Harry, what is it?” Your mind was racing. What possibly could have happened to cause him to act like this? You reach up, brushing your thumbs under his eyes along the tracks his tears were making. 

“I messed up, love.” He finally says, his voice a quiet whisper as he stares down into your eyes. You frown, shaking your head a bit in confusion. 

“What do yo-” 

“I slept with someone.” The words were out before he could over think it. He watched the gears turn in your head as you processed this. As soon as he saw it click, you backed out of his arms, distancing yourself from him just as he knew that you would. “Please, love, i’ was while we were going through tha’ rough patch a few weeks ago. I was angry, you were angry, I didn’ know where we stood-” 

“So you fucked someone else and never told me?!” You interrupt as your blood began to boil. “You came back here acting like it was all okay?! As if nothing ever happened!” You also felt your heart break, a dull ache began in the center of your chest. Harry was the love of your life, the man you were going to spend forever with and yet .. he had hurt you in the way he always vowed he never would. 

“I jus’…” He scratches at the back of his neck, shaking his head a little as he gave a sigh. He looks at the floor, anywhere but at the hurt and angry face before him. He also noted the fact that your eyes, those gorgeous eyes of yours that he loved so much, had begun to well up with tears. “I don’ know how to make up for this bu’ tha’ isn’t all.” He knew he had to say it, he had to get everything out so just maybe, maybe, the two of you could start trying to work it out. 

“What else is there?” You cross your arms over your chest as the tears slide down your cheeks. What else could there be? Had he slept with her again? Was he leaving you for her? Your mind was racing and you weren’t sure you would be able to handle anymore of this. Harry was your life and even with him standing in front of you still you felt it might not be for too much longer and you already felt lost. 

“She called me yesterday mornin’,” He began, his eyes peaking at you through his lashes as he kept his head slightly down. 

“Okay?” You urged but felt that sense of dread begin to creep up in your head as you surely knew what was coming next. Why would you contact the man you slept with weeks before? There was really only two reasons - wanting to get together again or being pregnant. Your blood ran cold at the latter possibility. It couldn’t be that, it just couldn’t. 

“She’s… she’s pregnan’.” The words pained him to say out loud. He hadn’t spoken it since he heard her mumble it through her sobs on the other end of the phone the morning before. He saw your face crumble then. Your eyebrows furrowed together, your eyes swimming with tears, and he saw your breath hitch in your throat. 

“You got another girl pregnant.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t accusatory, it was just a statement as you took to trying to process this. Harry was going to be a father, and it wasn’t with you. This just couldn’t possibly be happening. 

“I don’ know what I’m goin’ to do, bu’ what I wan’ first is to try and make things work with you. Please, love…” He trailed off when you shook your head vigorously, the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. 

“You expect me to just forgive you for this?” You give another shake of your head. “Would you forgive me if I got pregnant by another man? If I cheated on you and got knocked up? Would you be willing to move past that?” Harry bit at his lower lip and stared at the carpet under your feet. He knew you were right, he would probably never be able to move past it if you had someone else’s child. 

“You won’ even try? For us? We’ve been together for-”

“I don’t need you to remind me how long we’ve been together, Harry! I don’t need you telling me about the life we’ve started here together because I remember, I know!” You felt your anger begin to flare up. “It was you that seems to have forgotten the life we have together while you were busy fucking someone else!” He cringes at your choice of wording as well as your now raised voice but he knew he deserved it all. You were of course right, after all. 

“Please,” He takes a step towards you, holding his large hands out towards you, his cheeks wet with his still falling tears. He felt a sob building in his chest as he felt this was it, knowing you would most likely never forgive him. “I made a mistake, I will pay for tha’ for the rest of my life but I need you.” His voice dropped off to a whisper. “Don’ give up on me.” It was then that the sob finally fell from his lips and he felt his knees give out. 

“Harry,” You whisper as you watch the man you loved fall to his knees right there in front of you, his face pressing into his hands as large gasping sobs fell from his mouth. You feel a sob of your own and you take a step closer to Harry. You fall to your knees in front of him and bring a hand up to brush through his brown hair. He lifts his head up, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes meet yours. “I don’t think I can ever forgive you.” You watch his face crumble even more as he takes in your words. 

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers and the sobs resume. He then falls into your chest, his cheek burrowing into your t-shirt and his arms wrap tightly around your waist. You support his weight, your arms going around his shoulders, your fingers brushing at the hair on the back of his neck. “I’ll never forgive myself either.” He whispers through his sobs. 

You sat and held Harry, both of you crying and clinging to one another, knowing that this was it, for a good while until finally you pried him off of you and both of you stood up. 

“I think it’s best if you left.” You whisper as the two of you stood awkwardly facing each other. Harry gives a small nod, closing his eyes for a second. His eyes burned, the tears drying his eyes out but he knew he would probably spend the entire night crying. 

“Can I do somethin’, one las’ time?” You frown at him but he then takes a step closer to you and as his hand comes up to rest on your cheek you understood what he wanted. You don’t move as his face dips towards yours. You try not to return the pressure his lips press into yours but you couldn’t help it. As if by reflex you were kissing him back and bowing your body against his as your arms wrap around each other. It was as the kiss intensified and his tongue slid against yours that the reason this was to be your last kiss together reared back into your mind and you pulled away from him, breaking all contact together. 

“I can’t. I can’t do this, Harry.” You mutter, seeing that hurt and aching look in his green eyes as his chest heaved. He had hoped there for a second as he held you close again, your lips melded together perfectly like they always had, that just maybe you could forgive him. “I can’t be with you, I’m just going to picture you with her every time and I just can’t.” 

“I understand.” He gives a nod, hanging his head a bit. He pushes his fingers through his hair and looks back up at you. “I’m so sorry that I hur’ you.” He stares at you for a few seconds before backing towards the door. “I’ll always be jus’ a phone call away. I love you, with every piece of my soul.” You ignore the fresh tears sliding down your cheeks and simply give a nod. You look away from his heartbroken face and look anywhere but at him as he reaches for his bags and then a minute later was gone from the house. 

You fall to your knees right there where you stood and begin to cry into your hands, feeling like a piece of your heart had just walked out that door with Harry. 

Harry meanwhile had gone into the garage and got into his Range Rover but as soon as he was behind the wheel he rested his forehead against the steering while and let the sobs return. They were loud, chest heaving, sobs. Not only had he just lost the love of his life but he also now had to decide what he was going to do about his child on the way. 

prompt: “wait a minute. are you jealous?” + “i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice” + “just admit i’m right” + “say it” + “if you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?” 

pairing: tony x reader, steve x reader [implied]

word count: 2.3k+

prompt list: click here

warnings: shameless flirting, teasing, build up to smut, jealous tony

a/n: this is inspired by a bucky fic that i read a few days ago and unfortunately forgot to bookmark so if anyone knows what fic it was, please link me to it so i can give credit to the author

“Hey, Tony. Are you down here?”

The sound of Y/N’s voice bounced off of the concrete walls of Tony’s lab as she descended the spiral staircase a few minutes past midnight. The lights in the lab were left switched on so Y/N assumed Tony had to be down there, somewhere. It wasn’t a surprise, really; Tony loved tinkering with his projects and inventions in the dead of night and even though most of the time the noise of drills and saws was annoying when everyone was trying to sleep, at times like these it was actually quite comforting.

“I’m in here!” Tony called back and Y/N followed the sound of his voice until she found him sitting behind his desk, seemingly inputting some data into four computers at once. The sight was quite amusing and Y/N found herself smiling upon hearing F.R.I.D.A.Y. urging him to slow down or maybe take a break.

“Try lecture me one more time and I swear, I’ll cut off your power supply,” Tony threatened and just like that, F.R.I.D.A.Y. decided it might be best not to say another word.

“Bickering with your own inventions? Wow, Tony. I think you might have hit rock bottom.”

The brunette chuckled at her comment and lifted his gaze as she walked around his desk and quietly slid onto it. She situated herself in front of one of the screens, her feet dangling above the tiled floor.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Tony asked out of plain curiosity and smiled when Y/N reached for his steaming mug of coffee and took a tiny sip.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she answered simply and closed her eyes, feeling the pleasant warmth of Tony’s coffee warming up her insides. It was pretty darn cold in his lab and all she was wearing was an oversized t-shirt and some fuzzy socks.

“Is there something on your mind? You never wander around the place at night,” Tony observed and Y/N chuckled quietly.

“I do, actually.” She took another sip and placed the mug in her lap. “I just never wander near your lab or bedroom. I’ve had trouble sleeping a lot the last few months.”

Tony tore his gaze away from the screen of his computer and looked at her with mild concern in his eyes. He knew how horrible it was to not be able to fall asleep, even when you were dead tired. The idea of Y/N struggling with the same sleeping problem as him didn’t in the least bit thrill him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she told him with a small smile, then decided to change the topic. “Do you happen to have a blanket lying around here somewhere? I’m gonna freeze to death.”

Tony shook his head but then quickly remembered the grey hoodie draped over the back of his chair. Y/N thanked him quietly when he handed it to her and began to struggle to push her arms through the sleeves.

“You know, I don’t think it’s wise to be parading around an air conditioned building in nothing but a shirt. Or hanging out in a basement. These places tend to be quite chilly.”

Tony laughed and Y/N did, too, pulling the hood up over her messy hair.

“It helps me sleep,” she admitted and Tony quirked an eyebrow.

“What does? Not having pants on?”

Y/N nudged him with her hand. “No, you idiot. It’s Steve’s shirt. Being surrounded by the scent of another person helps me fall asleep.”

Tony looked at her with his brows furrowed. He kind of understood what she meant; back when he was still dating Pepper, her presence in his bed made it just that tiny bit easier to fall asleep. But knowing this didn’t stop Tony from wondering why on earth it was Steve’s shirt she was wearing.

And Y/N, noticing his confusion, decided to elaborate.

“I didn’t steal it from his laundry pile, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she giggled. “Can you imagine the lecture he’d give me about righteousness and whatnot?”

Tony could, in fact, picture it; very clearly, actually. He could almost see Steve waving his hands in the air and talking to Y/N as if she were a child who had misbehaved.

“Then how exactly did you obtain this article of clothing?” Tony wondered aloud and Y/N glanced down at what she was wearing. It was a simple white t-shirt with the American flag printed on the front. It matched her red, blue and white striped socks.

“He gave it to me when I was staying in his room a few nights ago,” she shrugged casually, not really thinking much about her next words. “I’ve been staying in his room a lot lately. It makes it easier to drift off.”

Tony pretended not to look surprised. He diverted his gaze back to the screen of his computer and began to type, though his mind was preoccupied with thoughts entirely different.

“I thought I’d be able to sleep alone one more night until he gets back from this mission, but apparently my body isn’t willing to co-operate,” she added quietly, took one last sip of Tony’s coffee and set the mug down on the desk.

Tony glanced at her from the corner of his eye, willing his expression to remain as neutral as possible.

“So, are you and Steve, like…”

Y/N quickly caught on to what he meant.

“No, of course not. We’re just friends,” she explained with a chuckle. “He doesn’t mind me waking him up in the middle of the night or helping me fall asleep, so I’ve been staying in his room. Steve is… nice.”

Tony cocked his head to the side and looked at her in slight bewilderment.

“I’m nice, too,” he noted, then turned back to his work. “And yet you’ve never asked to sleep in my bed.”

Y/N smiled, not catching his bitterness at first. She shrugged her shoulders and circled the rim of the mug with her index finger.

“I’ve never asked to sleep in your bed because you hardly get any sleep as it is,” she observed, her voice quieter than before. “I’d hate to take away what little rest you get with my silly problems.”

Tony sent her a look that screamed, “are you serious right now?” but before she could say anything, Tony was already talking.

“Your problems aren’t silly,” he reassured her, and Y/N shrugged her shoulders again.

“Steve doesn’t think so, either. It’s why he’s been letting me sleep with him,” she explained and Tony could feel anger bubbling inside of him. He didn’t like that Y/N went to Steve with her problems; he wanted it to be him she talked to.

“And since he’s gone, you’ve decided to come to me instead?” Being her second choice didn’t make Tony all that happy.

“I thought I’d find you here so we could hang out.”

Tony looked towards his computer again. He picked up his mug of coffee.

“Why don’t you call Steve, then?” He asked, then pressed the mug to his lips and muttered, “I’m sure it would do you more good that sitting here with me.”

Y/N’s brows knitted together into a frown, then a smirk took over her features.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Tony pretended to look surprised at her assumption. He cocked his head back and expelled a forced chuckle.

Jealous?” He asked. “Why on earth would I be jealous?”

It was obvious Y/N wasn’t buying his reaction. Tony could never hide his true feelings and even though he hated it about himself, Y/N had grown to love it.

He turned in his chair to face the monitor at the opposite end of the desk. Incidentally, it gave him an excuse to turn away from Y/N so she couldn’t see him.

“I’m not jealous. Just curious about what’s going on between you and Cap. That’s all,” he mumbled a little too slow and Y/N had to bite back her grin.

She reached out, placed her hand on the back of Tony’s chair and turned it around so that he was facing her again.

Tony appeared desperate to look elsewhere but she was right there in front of him, blocking his view.

“Are you sure?” She raised a brow, her smirk remaining. She narrowed her eyes a little and Tony gulped audibly.

It was then Y/N decided to push back her hesitation and slid off of the surface of his desk. Tony watched as she stepped closer.

“Like, are you completely positive you’re not jealous? Because, I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice and your eyes tell me something different.”

Tony was just about to speak, to protest, to tell her he had no idea what she was talking about, but he stopped himself when she threw her leg over his thighs and lowered herself onto his lap.

Tony gulped.

“What are you doing?” He asked, gazing up at her from beneath his lashes. The weight of her in his lap felt too satisfying for him not to feel weird about it.

“What? I’m not doing anything,” she responded innocently, but a playful grin had appeared across her lips. Tony could already see the mischief in her eyes. 

“Then why have you suddenly decided to sit in my lap? I don’t think you’ve done this before.”

Y/N chuckled and Tony almost whimpered when she took hold of his wrists and led his hands to her hips. Her own soon retreated and Tony wanted to punch himself for how much he was enjoying this. There was something terrifyingly pleasurable about it.

“All I want is for you to say it,” she told him, and Tony’s brows furrowed. With the feeling of her sitting in his lap, her weight resting right where he wanted it, Tony had almost forgotten what they were talking about. 

“You’re jealous because I’ve been sleeping in Steve’s bed,” she stated matter-of-factly, her fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt. She wasn’t looking into his eyes but she glanced up then, a coy smirk across her lips. “Just admit I’m right.”

Tony sighed. “I’m not going to confess to anything in the absence of my lawyer.”

Y/N pouted and the sight was so adorable Tony wanted to drop onto the floor and repeat anything she’d ask him to say.

“But it’s more fun when it’s just the two of us. Don’t you think?” Tony could almost see the wheels turning in her head. He had no clue what she was thinking or where she was going with this. The only thing he was absolutely certain of was the fact that it wouldn’t be long before she noticed the growing tent in his jeans.

“What do you mean?”

And there it was; the realisation on her face.

Tony was just about to shift in his seat in what would surely be a failed attempt to cover up his arousal but Y/N had already noticed.

She had noticed and the smirk across her face let Tony know something weird was about to happen. And it did; because soon Y/N reached behind her, placing her hands on his thighs and then lifted herself up slightly, only to sink back onto him and begin to roll her hips against him.

Tony let out a shaky breath, his fingers beginning to dig into her hips. Her smirk remained and even when Tony closed his eyes, he could see it. It was right there, printed onto the back of his eyelids, haunting him. A pathetic groan escaped his lips.

He could feel her hands sliding up his chest and to his shoulders, using them for leverage. She expelled a breath that sounded a little too much like a whine and Tony could feel his erection straining against his boxers. Truth be told, he would’ve been able to get off on that sound alone, but it wasn’t just the sound that was making his head spin; it was the feeling of her rolling her hips against him, her hands on his shoulders, her heavy breaths and the sweet smell of her perfume.

“Say it,” she demanded, leaning into him so her chest was pressed flush to his. Tony forced her down harder onto him.

“No.”

“Say it, Tony. Say it or I’ll stop.”

He whined when she began to slow down. He needed more. But admitting he was jealous wasn’t something he was willing to do. 

“Please,” he whimpered instead, and a knowing smirk appeared across her face. She had him wrapped around her finger and she damn well knew it. “Please don’t stop.”

She moved her hips again and Tony expelled a breath of relief. He screwed his eyes shut and threw his head back, letting another pathetic groan escape him. He was helpless and somehow, he was loving it.

“Oh, Tony,” she giggled, knowing what effect she was having on him and using it to her advantage. He could hear the superiority in her tone, knowing she had the upper hand. There was something strangely erotic about it. “If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?”

He groaned again, but this time, instead of continuing her actions, Y/N’s movements ceased completely and she grinned in satisfaction as she slid off his lap. Tony whimpered at the loss in contact and opened his eyes, watching as she turned towards his desk.

She bent over rather theatrically, her perky behind right there for him to admire, and grabbed his mug of coffee from his desk.

Tony attempted to catch his breath.

“I’ll be in my room,” she told him casually, almost as if nothing had ever happened. She took a few steps towards the door and suddenly stopped, glancing at him over her shoulder, one eyebrow cocked. “You are welcome to join me.”


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