stand up direct


james potter & lily evans aesthetic ► for #jilyshipweek at @hpshipweeks 

There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his Dad.


He stopped on a picture of his parents’ wedding day. There was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair Harry had inherited standing up in all directions. There was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his dad.


harry potter re-cast: james and lily potter [x]

there was his father waving up at him, beaming, the untidy black hair harry had inherited standing up in all directions. there was his mother, alight with happiness, arm in arm with his dad.

teasing with got7

jb: he spanks you unexpectedly; he just loves the look on your face. he loves hovering over you to assert his dominance. he knows you can’t resist him as he runs his hands over your inner thigh. he lowly chuckles into your ear when he sees how hot your are for him.

mark: he likes to bite you softly. he nips at your earlobe to get your attention and slowly runs his tongue on it to drive you insane. you can feel his hand slowly move up your shirt, and you suddenly get the chills. he likes to run one finger along your skin to mess with you.

jackson: like jb, he likes to spank you, but he squeezes your ass cheek before letting go. if you’re standing up, he loves being direct by pressing his pelvis against your behind (if you didn’t get the message by then, i don’t know what to tell you). if you’re sitting, he moves you to sit on his lap to feel him.

junior: he loves touching you; it drives you both insane. he has his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and softly sucking on the skin. he seems very sensual, so his hands are moving all over the place but at such a slow pace that you can’t take it anymore.

youngjae: he likes to hug you from behind and slide his hands under your shirt and in your underwear. his hands just ever so slightly graze over your sensitive parts; he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. he loves to kiss your neck and breathe in your scent.

bambam: if his glance wasn’t straight forward enough about what he wants, then his kisses sure are. he moves his hands to touch you, but is just centimeters away from your skin and he stops. he kisses your skin softly and asks you what you want from him. he wants to see you beg.

yugyeom: he tells you to come close to him. he puts you on his lap to straddle him and he brushes his hands through your hair knowing how much you love it when he does that. he grinds against you slowly enough for both of you to feel the need he has for you.

Addicting...Part 5

(Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Epilogue)

When you finally awoke that morning, your body contorted on the couch as you try to wet your cotton mouth, you sniffle in deep as you bring your limp hand up to wipe your mangled hair out of your eyes.

The smells wafting from the kitchen were reminiscent of Chinese food…

“Morning,” Spencer coos as he brings a tray of food into your living room.

Watching as a hazy form sits reheated Chinese food down onto your coffee table, you feel the light patch of free couch sink down underneath you as Spencer reaches out his hand and pushes the rest of the hair from your face.

“Hey there,” he coos, his voice still croaky from sleep as you slowly take in the focusing of his face, his hair standing up in all directions as his red, puffy eyes stand out.

Screaming at you like the scars on your back do.

“Did we both-?”

“Yeah,” Spencer snickers as he nods his head lightly.  “Sorry, I-I just-”

“No no,” you breathe as you reach out, grasping his arm as you grunt and lift yourself upright on the couch, “don’t be sorry.  It’s fine.”

Your hand darted to your head as it starts to throb and ache.

“Here,” Spencer says as he scurries for the glass of ice water, “probably a bit dehydrated.”

“Thanks,” you croak, bringing the cold liquid to your lips as you gulp it down, your eyes closing as Spencer reaches for his small glass of orange juice.

As the two of you sit in relative silence, the throbbing in your head slowly dying down as you sit on the couch in nothing but a baggy t-shirt and your dried tears from the night before, your stomach begins to growl as you hear Spencer let out a light puff of air through his nose.

“Want some food?” he asks as he reaches out for your egg-drop soup.

“Sure,” you breathe, slowly opening your eyes as you take the small cup of soup from his hands.

It felt so warm in your grasp…

“I found some more in one of your coffee mugs,” Spencer blurts out as he looks intently into the bottom of his juice glass.

“And we’re back,” you lull as you snicker and bring the soup up to your lips.

“I just…didn’t know if maybe you-”

“-had any other places I wasn’t telling you about?”

You dropped the empty soup cup a bit harder than you had wished back onto the tray on the coffee table.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to-”

“-insinuate that I would start using again once I got you off my back?”

You spat the last sentence a bit more than you had wished.

Hell, you were feeling emotions a little bit stronger than you had wished.

The pills dulled that sensation…

“Y/N, I know that look,” Spencer says as he sits his glass down, his body shifting towards you as you bury your face into your hands, “it’s why I’m not letting you do this alone.”

“Indulge me,” you groan, your voice muffled by the palms of your hands.

“Look, I-…I still go to the Beltway Clean Cops meetings,” he admits.

“What?” you ask, lifting your face from your hands as you slowly turn your furrowed face towards him.

“Yeah.  I mean, I don’t struggle all the time, but I will always struggle sometimes.  And when it kicks up, I go to a meeting or two.  It helps to remember how much I struggled, and the road I had to walk when I relapsed…”

You watched as Spencer’s eyes glazed over, his mind throwing him back to a time where he was just as desperate as you are now, clamoring for any sense of relief and numbness.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, his eyes slowly focusing back onto reality as you slowly sink back into your couch.

“To the meetings?” you ask as you hike your leg up onto the couch, your entire body turned towards him as he sinks back alongside you, turning his head towards you slowly.

“Yeah.  Come with me,” he offers again.

“You probably don’t have to go all the time, though,” you snicker as you lightly shake your head.

“I would if I was your sponsor,” he admits.

Your eyes locked heavily onto his as your brain debated between grasping the rope he was throwing you and kicking him out again so that you could fish around in the tank of your half-bath toilet.

“I would help you, a-a-and be there, every step of the way, Y/N,” Spencer urges as his hand reaches out and lightly takes yours.

“Just tell me where they are,” he whispers.

A war was raging inside of you.

A war that had long been fought before him, and would long be fought with or without him.

And you figured you stood a better chance with a partner.

After all, look at what being alone had gotten you.

“The tank of the toilet,” you choke out as tears begin to stream down the crevices of your nose, “down the hall.”

You watched the smallest tick of Spencer’s lips before he nods at you lightly.

“Try to eat something,” he urges, leaning forward and placing a delicate kiss on your forehead, “for me.”

And as your eyes flutter open, the feeling of his warm body gone as he shuffles his way into the hallway, you slowly lean forward and grab at the plastic plate full of noodles and vegetables as you hear Spencer rake the lid of the toilet back and fish around in the tank.

You hadn’t even swallowed your first bite before you heard the hearty flush of the toilet, whisking away the last stash of pills in your house as you close your eyes and listen to the beat of your heart.

A heart that could repair itself again, just like it had done it before.

I would walk 👟👞👡🚶 through ➡️ the desert 🐫☀️🌵 I would walk🚶👟👞👡 down⬇️👇 the aisle👰💕 I would swim👙🏊 all the oceans🐠🐟🌊 just to see👀👓 you smile😊😄😃 whatever it takes💪 is fine👍 whoa oh whoa🎶 so put your hands up👐🙌 whoa oh whoa🎶 cuz it's a stand up👫🙌🔫 I won't be leaving🚷 til I've finished🔚 stealing💰 every piece of your heart💓❤️💗💖💕💘💌💋


Stiles’ eyes traveled along the line of Derek’s gesture, and before he could even come up with a suitable response, he was already scowling. Picking up the nearest, heaviest object – a plate – he threw it in the wolf’s direction, standing up before he even bothered to see whether Derek had caught, or dodged it. Really, with wolves, it was one or the other.

“Plants need water, and food,” he sounded exasperated as he made his way to the kitchen, yanking open a cupboard, “They can’t live off bad vibes and angst, like you. Actually, that’s bad for the,” pulling out a package of epsom salts, the spark moved toward he coffee grinder, leaning down to check the level before scooping out a handful and opening the fridge to produce two eggs from a carton Cracking each into the sink with one hand, he threw the shells into the grinder and hit ‘start’. “This is going to need a clean,” he called, unnecessary, over the whir of the beans and egg shells being crushed into a fine mix, landing in a cup that he’d placed underneath.

Adding water to the mix, Stiles boiled it with a wave of his fingers, then cooled it similarly, bringing it over to gently douse the plants with the makeshift fertiliser, returning with three more haphazardly carried mugs of simple water. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?“ he practically cooed to the plants, leaning over them and letting his long fingers brush over their leafs, “it’s okay, Derek can barely dress himself on a good day. Just because he has big biceps, he thinks he can get away with boring clothes. It’s a miracle you’ve all made it this long.”

Derek was still focused on his book, so he didn’t see when the spark threw the plate. But his ears perked up a little at the sound it made, just barely making it in time to catch it, looking particularly inconvenienced by it. He set the plate down, marking the page in his book, and putting that on top, “What the hell are you doing?” he’d been ignoring Stiles on purpose, not giving him any reason to get any unnecessary attention paid to his antics. However, when the egg shells went into the coffee grinder, there was no turning back. 

He almost stormed over, but instead, held his ground and watched, Stiles using that, and some water, to feed the plants. Even for a selfish dick at times - which it seemed they both were - at least he cared about nature. But he could live without the trash-talk, crossing his arms, unimpressed by the gesture, no matter how much it actually helped his plants. 

“First of all, you can’t expect me to believe that plants are affected by negative energy, or energy at all” the nemeton, he could believe - but regular houseplants? That seemed a little extreme, even for a werewolf to believe. The supernatural world was complex - there was a whole lot he didn’t know, though, “Second, it’s not as though they can hear you talking to them. And third - “ he pushed his hand against Stiles’ chest, knowing fully well that the consequences could have him hurled into the wall without mercy, “If you have a problem with my clothes, then why do you let me keep them on for so long?”