that moment when you realize you will never be that beautiful

10

Here’s the Soulmate!AU collab @rickandmortygetschwifty and I did together! :) It was so awesome to work on this with you; you’re so amazing <3

Please, read @rickandmortygetschwifty ‘s part of the collab right here, under the cut!! (The comic will make more sense, after you’ve read it) Prepare to weep! The fic is long and heart-wrenchingly beautiful!!


For longer than you’ve known, you never truly understood what a soulmate was.

Your first memory was of your mother hovering over you, inspecting the reddening bruise that was blossoming over your knee. She was looking over at you in disapproval, tutting as she tried to hush your sobs.You couldn’t help the tears that ran down your cheeks as you cradled your leg and begged your mother to make it stop hurting.The pain you felt was unlike anything you experienced before. And so you cried and cried, hoping that your screams would drown out the unpleasant sensations.

Your mother simply picked you up, whispering sweet things into your ear as she bandaged you up.

“Oh, you poor little thing,” she cooed, flicking you playfully on the nose. “Rick, you need to be more careful, or you’ll make your soulmate sad too.

Keep reading

Once upon a time there was a beast and a curse and an enchantress, which I’m sure surprises nobody. Better put it this way: once upon a time a girl was locked in a castle, and she begged so hard not to be the sleeping princess that she became the beast. That’s more like it, anyway — fairytale logic. You get what you wish for, but it isn’t what you want.

“Don’t let it be a prince,” she begged, “don’t let it be a kiss I can’t see coming and can’t refuse.”

Enchantresses, wicked fairies, call them what you will — they’re all the same story in the end. No one will remember if this enchantress began the story by giving the princess a naming day gift of a hundred year sleep once the tale switches to another track. The point is that she didn’t mind granting this one favor. Maybe it was an issue of statistics. Maybe she thought finding a girl who would fall in love with a princess-beast would be harder than finding a prince to kiss her, make her curse harder to lift (considering the probabilities of who might wander onto the cursed castle grounds). As if girls who love girls don’t know they have to fight harder to begin with, as if they won’t cross miles for each other.

So maybe there was a spindle once, but now there is a rose, and a girl who wanders through a thorn maze unable to find her way. This is the wrong story, she thinks to herself, clutching her leather satchel tighter, but she doesn’t know what the right story is.

“Let me through?” She suggests to the roses that grow squeezed between their own thorns along the twisting hedges. “I’m looking for the love of my life. I’m in a hurry.”

She’s met only with the rustling of leaves and haughty scoffs. “No prince ever found his true love by being in a hurry.”

“I’m not a prince. I’m a shoemaker, and I’m lost. Can you let me through to the castle?” It rises dark and spindly overhead, but though it seems so close she can see no way out of the maze.

Laughter, echoing through the hedge corridors, and then something dark prowls around the corner and half-crouches there, hidden as much as possible under a hooded cloak. Shining talons dig into the earth under their feet.

The beast says, “A shoemaker? You really are in the wrong story.” Her voice is gravely and doesn’t match the laughter. That must have been the roses as well.

“I have glass shoes,” the girl says, staring at those claws. “Or I can make something sturdier, if you give me time.”

“I don’t have enough time of my own to be giving it away,” the beast says, bored, and gestures around them. Even now the hedges seem to be encroaching further into the maze’s corridors, the roses growing and multiplying. One day soon, the girl realizes, the maze will entirely fill in, and the castle will be blocked off.

She’s clever, and she’s brave, and those are the two most important things for a fairytale heroine to be — besides pretty, but that’s easy enough to fake with the right kind of smile. “Then don’t give it to me,” she says, “we can share.”

So the beast reaches out one arm, fingers tapering into knives that she curls so gently they don’t more than scratch the girl’s skin — and the shoemaker takes it with an earnest gravity, looking right under her cloak’s shadow and into her eyes.

The beast’s eyes are unnaturally big and inhumanly shaped, but they’re not cruel, and in fairytales the evil beasts always have cruel eyes. The girl bobs a polite curtsey, using the beast’s arm for balance, and sees those eyes narrow slightly with amusement.

They walk through the twists and turns of the maze to the castle, the beast bent slightly so as not to tower over her guest. “About those shoes,” she says, when they reach the front doors, golden light spilling from the entrance hall and shining through the delicately carved details in the ancient wood.

“In the morning,” the girl says, and because she clearly has not even entertained the thought that she might be argued with, the beast cannot summon an objection. She watches the girl follow an unfurling carpet along the floor to a dusty guest room with no hesitation, as if every dwelling should be as accommodating.

And in the way of fairytales, that’s enough to make the beast fall in love — a disregard for every unspoken rule, a smile that glimmers in the darkness. Should I tell you that the moment the girl arrives at breakfast the next morning the beast can barely look away from her for a moment, that she stays by the girl’s side as she produces leather and tools from nowhere and searches floor by floor for the perfect room to work in — or should I let you imagine for yourself?

Gradually the hood is pulled back, eventually the cloak discarded altogether; they sit in patches of sunlight together to eat lunch, staring down at the maze below. Roses and leaves devouring each other and everything in slow motion.

“If you stay too long you’ll be trapped here,” the beast warns, anxious when the girls shows no concern in her usual solemn air as she watches the maze devolve.

“I haven’t finished your shoes,” is all she says. Each new morning she promises that in return for this latest night of hospitality she is making the shoes more beautiful, and each evening that she has not finished she stays another night.

Sometimes when the girl has gone to bed the beast sneaks back into the workroom, in agony over whether to rip out the stitches or finish the work for her.

Leave before you are trapped here forever.

Stay here forever because I love you.

Each night she does not touch the shoes and returns to sleep herself, and in the morning the girl thanks her for letting her stay, as if the beast could ever turn her out, and promises to repay the night with even more beautiful shoes.

And each morning the beast says, “That’s fair,” and wishes she could find different words, the words she means to say.

The maze grows. The roses are larger than hands with fully spread fingers. The corridors are barely large enough for a small girl to squeeze through. In the dawn light it is lit gently and slightly pink, but the sight of it is painful. The wide window of the workroom shows the progress the maze had made alarmingly clearly, and it’s only then that the beast wonders if that was the appeal of this room over all the others.

The girl appears silently in the doorway as she has for the past week. “Thank you for letting me stay last night. I’ll repay you—”

“No,” the beast says, her voice alarmed and rough. “No. You are leaving now.”

“Now?”

“Before you can’t leave. You must go now.” Her throat is closing up and her voice growing thicker with each word. They’re not the words she wants to say.

The girl cocks her head, a curiously nonjudgmental silence. Finally she crosses the room to her worktable and picks up the shoes, turning them around and around again. They’re boots, really, and almost comically big in her hands. The beast cannot tell if they are as beautiful as she was promised, because the girl is smiling now and that eclipses all else.

“Are they finished?” She asks.

“Yes,” the beast says, unable to choke out anything more.

The girl leaves the boots on the table and swings her satchel, out of nowhere, across her shoulders. “Thank you for sharing your time,” she says. For a moment she holds the beast’s hand in both of hers, and then she’s gone. From the window the beast can watch her leave; for all her trouble getting there, she finds her way out with ease.

She leaves the workroom and doesn’t return all day.

Do beasts grieve? She hadn’t thought they could. She hadn’t grieved when the curse was settled on her; she hadn’t grieved at the idea that it might never lift once the maze finally knit itself together during the coming night. But the loneliness she feels now was different. The absence of the shoemaker is something worse. She’d had no choice in her fate, but she had told the girl to leave. This misery she’d brought on herself.

At night she wanders back into the workroom out of habit, sleepless and hopeless and refusing to glance out the window. Has it happened yet? Is she truly trapped now, or will it happen in five minutes, an hour, at dawn? She stares at the boots for an indeterminable amount of time before she thinks of putting them on.

She does so only because she thinks the girl wanted her to wear them; left to her own devices she might have destroyed them with as little thought as she now gives to slipping them on. They are big enough, and the fasteners are easy to close even with her unwieldy claws. Designs etched into the leather yet invisible in the darkness spiral and branch out beneath the thumb-pad she runs over them. Vines, she thinks. Roses.

A tear slips out, or three, as she stands in her beautiful new boots and smells leather and rotting roses. I want her back, she thinks, even as a wave of thankfulness rises up from the deepness in her, thankfulness that the shoemaker will never feel this trapped. I want to go to her, she revises. Since she doesn’t know how, she goes to leave the workroom instead.

One step and darkness is rushing past her. The rough scrap of stone walls, the rustle of leaves and the tearing of thorns, night air soft all around her. She has stepped not into the hallway but out of the castle, beyond the maze, into the star-dappled night.

“What did you do?” She asks, alarmed, almost before she sees the shoemaker sitting cross-legged on the grassy hill, as still as if she has been waiting all day and night. “What happened?”

“I found what I came for,” the girl says calmly. “And I made her shoes.”

Pixar COCO ¡Viva México!

Ok, ok, so I recently went to see the movie and let me tell you something… it’s more than just a movie, es una obra de arte.

I’m not joking, really, my expectations went beyond what I thought. It was amazing in every way. Well, maybe I’m gonna make some spoilers, but I found myself in need of telling you my experience as a Mexican point of view.

Because yes, I’m proudly Mexican.

  • 1. Estás muy flaco, ¡come más!

This is funny. 

In each family, at least in mine, it is normal that your grandmother wants to feed you because, according to her, you are very thin. And this reminded me a lot of my grandmother, whom I sweetly called Yaya. And yes, she is a strong, very determined woman who always fills my plate with lots of food. 

But my Yaya’s food is always the best.

Originally posted by musicalhog

  • 2. El maravilloso ambiente

There was no time to take the eyes off every scene, every color, every sound, literally. In the land of the living, the colors were relatively balanced, since it is a village, when dusk comes, which illuminates each house in a beautiful orange color. The colorful cemeteries and ofrendas captivated me greatly, for the passion with which we adorn the tombs of our departed is more than a tradition; is a connection that even Death itself can never take away.

Originally posted by musicalhog

  • 3. ¡Música maestro!

My God, I can’t believe Disney has started its own theme with Mariachi music. 

AY, AY, AY!!

That. was. Phenomenal. 

The rest of the film, when I started to hear the voices of each character singing, dancing or even playing guitar, I almost felt like jumping and singing, clapping and dancing. If anything you must be sure, is that when a Mexican hears that kind of music, mariachi, trumpets, violins, the shoe, the drums, gives him an infinite desire to be celebrating forever.

Originally posted by wrlockbane

  • 4. La Chancla

La abuelita threatening everyone with la chancla. 

That’s typical of mexican family. No, seriously. Once my Yaya threw me la chancla voladora when I was little and I was running and they had yelled at me to stop. That could not be missing!

If you have never been threatened with la chancla, or much less have hit you with it, trust me, as a mexican you had no childhood.

Originally posted by auroras-boreales

  • 5. La Llorona

Originally, the song La Llorona is sung by Chavela Vargas. If you have never heard of it, I strongly recommend that you do so. That was totally amazing! 

“Ay, de mí llorona. Llorona, de azul celeste. Ay, de mí llorona. Llorona, de azul celeste…”

“Y aunque me cueste la vida, llorona, no dejaré de quererte. Y aunque me cueste la vida, llorona, no dejaré de quererte…”

Miguel’s great-great-grandmother sang it with such sentiment made me shed tears, because I’ve heard it since I was a little girl. My grandmother sometimes sings it when she’s cooking.

  • 6. Ay, Ernesto, no te rajes

Yes, yes, YES!!!

I actually knew that Ernesto de la Cruz was inspired by Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete. OH, MY GOD! I love this man so much!

Originally posted by andyjwest

Maybe you can remember Jorge with the song Ay, Jalisco no te rajes! (From the movie The Tree Caballeros) There are other songs that I recommend you to hear. But my favorite has always been that.

Yo soy Mexicano, Mexico Lindo, Ella, Entre suspiro y suspiro, El Abandonado, and more…

  • 7. Alebrijes

Actually, this was a very original idea that I loved. 

Alebrijes are imaginary beings made up of physiognomic elements of different animals, a combination of several animals, not only fantastic but also real.
They’re handicrafts made with the technique of the cartonería, that they are painted with joyful colors and vibrant.

Alebrijes are one of the many wonders of Mexican art and a pride and the hallmark of Oaxaca. Having a alebrije or a collection of them at home is considered good luck and it is said that happiness will accompany anyone who owns one of these works of art. In addition, owning a alebrije is to possess the best of Mexican art, so vast, so colorful, so full of life and a beauty recognized internationally.

  • 8. La Familia es primero

Even though The Book of Life is also another of my favorite movies, something made me even love more Coco than this. 

Family.

Originally posted by disneymusic

It may sound a little… cliché, but for me the family has always been the most important thing. In fact, I quite identified with Miguel’s family. I could see in my own flesh not only my grandmother, but my uncles, my cousins and my other relatives. We don’t live in one house, we live in different places.

Traditionally my grandfathers are doctors, and they wanted my mother to be a doctor, but she preferred to study theater just as my father studied music. And there could be no doubt that her own daughter would also want to be an artist.

When I first went to Europe to visit the Universities, my grandmother, who repudiated the idea of being an artist, came to me one day and said to me: “It’s your life, you decide what you want and what you choose will be always good for me.”

The love of the family is so different and so unique, that to a certain point it made me realize that I do not need love of a couple if I have people that I can always talk to and who can support me too.

  • 9. Recuérdame

This song was definitely the best of the best. Full of feelings, full of dedication, I should applaud the effort for composers, I haven’t had the privilege of hearing it in English, but I think you should also listen to it in Spanish, and I say it because the song sounds infinitely cool. and with the voice of the characters, made my skin prickly and shed more tears.

“Hasta que en mis brazos tú estés… Recuérdame…”

  • 10. Mama Coco

This, without a doubt, is my favorite. The entire character of mama Coco.

She may not appear more than some scenes from the entire film, but she is a very important and very captivating character. The relationship she has with Miguel is very special, an old mind woman and a big-hearted young man, the love of grandparents or great-grandparents is so strong and has no limits…

I have lived with my great-grandparents since I was two years old, and I loved them with all my heart just like them to me.

They are no longer with me…

But that does not mean that I have forgotten them. I remember them every day, every moment, when I least expect it, I sometimes dream about them. Sometimes I ask my grandparents how they were as young people, and I could imagine their lives in black and white films, where they wore dresses and suits.

The times of my great-grandfathers were hard, but were also beautiful, they enjoyed their entire life and were happy. Mama Coco was able to leave the world knowing that her father loved her and sang for the last time. Recuérdame with her great-grandchild.

What a beautiful scene, so simple, so lovely, that speaks for much.

Originally posted by musicalhog

Believe it or not, I loved Coco more than The Book of Life.

But I don’t think there has to be some anger cause somehow they seem to be something in como. For God’s sake, they do NOT seem at all, at least of the plot. 

Is more than obvious that the producers and the cast made a mega effort to make the film an original work, and yes, it is original, cause there were so many unexpected twists, plus that, again, made me cry.

Don’t hate Coco, really, the movie is worth seeing, and it is such a beautiful and so cute way of putting the family theme. 

The Book of Life talked about fear in being yourself: there is nothing wrong of being yourself and always follow your heart, while Coco talks about that it is okay to follow your dreams, but also think about your family, think about something that goes more beyond your expectations, but what you choose will always have the support of your family.

Two films focusing on Mexico, focusing on El Dia de los Muertos, two films that use direct themes, but that somehow made me realize what Life is like.

So, go ahead, Vive tu momento.

Originally posted by musicalhog

How They Feel About PDA (Avengers Preference)

I am the worst! Sorry guys! Between a full course load and two jobs I’m drowning a little, but I still really love you guys!

~~~

Tony Stark:

He loves it (the little shit). He likes to make sure everyone around knows exactly who you’re with. Since you refuse to wear the t-shirt that says “Property of Tony Stark” (even though he wears his “Property of Y/N” all the time) he’s gotta let people know some other way. He doesn’t go so far as to touch you inappropriately (maybe a quick slap or pinch on your “perfect” butt but nothing more than that). Kisses, however, are a different story. Quick pecks in the grocery story line, heated kisses in front of the press, tender kisses in front of the team before they leave on a mission. Tony doesn’t care what others are thinking, he just wants you to know his feelings for you, and the best way to do that is with his lips on yours.

Steve Rogers:

Steve isn’t exactly embarrassed by PDA. Sure it wasn’t highly approved of back in the day, but c’mon he was best friends with THE Bucky Barnes, so he was rather used to PDA. So no, Steve wasn’t embarrassed by PDA, it was more that Steve was surprised someone wanted to display PDA with him. Yeah he was bigger and muscular now, but he still remembered all those dates he had been dragged on where the girl didn’t even bother to learn his name, let alone let the rest of the world know they were together. So when you grab his hand and kiss him in front of everyone like you hope the world is watching he’s shocked, rather than embarrassed, that such an amazing and beautiful girl would care to claim him. 

Bucky Barnes:

While it took him a while to warm back up with the idea (just like with everything else), Bucky was soon back to his charming, PDA loving self. While he loves holding your hand, he prefers to place his hand on the small of you back since you can’t wander as far away. And he loves to drop small kisses to your forehead, temple, of nose when you make him laugh (whether from cracking a joke or because you “just look so cute when you’re frustrated”). He also loves leaning his forehead against yours and gently nudging your nose with his when you’re having hushed discussions in the middle of a crowded room. Bucky loves to feel your skin on his in anyway he can. And while he prefers you not hold his metal hand, it’s mostly because he knows he can protect you better if he has it free. 

Bruce Banner:

Surprisingly Bruce doesn’t mind PDA. While he’s almost never the one to initiate it, he’s not about to pull away when you grab his hand and kiss him in public. He likes the kisses you press to his cheek when he knows you’re being possessive, or the ones you press to his lips when he knows you’re drawing strength from him. And even though he loves the kisses you initiate most, he’s not afraid to initiate a few moments of his own. When he needs calming down you can feel his lips press firmly to your temple, or when he’s feeling particularly protective he’ll wrap you up in his arms shooting glares at anyone who gets too near. 

Clint Barton:

It’s not that Clint doesn’t like PDA, it’s more that Clint is too preoccupied watching the world and dangers around him to do anything more than hold your hand or press a quick kiss to your forehead. When you’re out and about he’s often found looking at the guy acting slightly sketchy across the room rather than looking at the shirt you’re trying to make him get. But it’s fine because as soon as your lips make contact with his and he recovers, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, and forgetting about the rest of the world, since his world is wrapped securely in his tight embrace. 

Pietro Maximoff:

Believe it or not, but Pietro actually gets super embarrassed with PDA. Growing up with just him and Wanda, other kids often teased him when he would act sweetly towards his sister. While that never stopped him from caring it has caused him to be slightly more reserved when it came to showing physical affection. It took him a while to get comfortable holding your hand in public (but he eventually got used to it when he realized other guys were staring at what was his, and even though he’s embarrassed by PDA he’s way too possessive to let it slide). But Pietro definitely still blushes when your lips sweep his cheek, and his wide eyes will make a quick sweep of the room to make sure not too many people are watching as he returns the favor.

Thor Odinson:

Thor loves PDA. Too much. It honestly doesn’t matter where you guys are. Whether you’re window shopping in Midtown, or in the middle of SHIELD HQ, he’ll simply sweep you into his arms and kiss you senseless. People have tried to tell him why he isn’t allowed to basically frisk you in front of everyone, but he hasn’t quite gotten it yet. Apparently in Asgard it is a great sign of how successful a King’s reign will be when he loves his Queen enough to show physical affection in public, and he definitely loves his Queen. So while your Midgardian friends may get a little uncomfortable with the way Thor kisses you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive, your Asgardian friends simply cheer at the sign of what surely looks like the greatest reign Asgard will ever see. 

Loki Laufeyson:

Loki kind of hates PDA. He hates looking weak in front of others, and he’ll be honest (with you)- you’re his weakness. So while he’s more than happy to have you stand by his side, he would prefer if you both kept your hands to yourselves until you were in private. The only time his rule wavers is before he goes off to do something stupid and possibly not come back, or after you have done stupid and got hurt. In those few instances he has no qualms about fiercely pressing his lips to yours and letting you feel all of his emotions rolled into that one kiss, no matter who is watching. 

Sam Wilson:

Oh Sam. While he doesn’t like to make out or blatantly show you off in public, he does enjoy small and sweet signs of PDA. He likes to wrap his arms from behind you while you wait in line and hum the jeopardy theme song in your ear. He likes to sneak up behind you while you’re looking at a book and swiftly kiss you on the cheek. He likes to give you eskimo kisses when he knows you’re mad at him. He likes to carry you bridal style to breakfast and to bed when you’re too sleepy to walk and you cuddle into his chest. He loves to show you he loves you in the little things, because he knows that that is what truly matters.

Scott Lang:

Scott is kind of childish in his PDA (like most other things). Think high school boy with his first girlfriend. Heated kisses and some light frisking no matter where you are or who’s watching. His arm’s always around your shoulder to make sure people know you’re his and so he can keep you close. It often makes you roll your eyes because you know he can be sweet and sensitive, but he keeps that to closed doors. He would prefer to make you blush when people find you straddling his lap, or make you laugh when Tony has to loudly clear his throat for the third time because you’re making out in front of his lab… again. It’s what makes Scott, Scott.

T’Challa:

T’Challa is a reserved man. He prefers to keep his private matters private, and that includes you guys’ relationship. So while you guys are out and about the most the paps will ever catch is hand holding or a guiding hand to the small of your back. But that isn’t the full story. Anyone working inside the palace or Avengers HQ will tell you that you two always have skin to skin, but more like lip to lip, contact. The servants and fellow Avengers have seen it all. From T’Challa randomly pushing you up against a wall to “suck your face off”, to him pulling you in for a close dance as he presses his forehead against yours and looks into your eyes as he hums your favorite song to you. T’Challa is a reserved and private man, but still a man who is deeply and madly in love. 

~~~

Again I’m so sorry guys! I hope this is okay! I didn’t have time to edit because I’m just trying to get it out there for you guys, but I hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun writing it! (Also there are over 2000 of you?! WHAT?! Love you all dearly!)

Epoch

Epoch (m) a period of time in history or a person’s life, typically one marked by notable events or particular characteristics.

Words: 11.3k

Genre/Warnings: smut, language and angst

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook

Summary: When Namjoon breaks up with you, you’re left wondering what to do. Realizing you’ve been unhappy with your life, you go off to Hawaii. In Hawaii, you meet a cute desk clerk named Jungkook who saves your ass. (Based off of Forgetting Sarah Marshall)


You were waiting for your boyfriend, Namjoon, to come over. He had just gotten back from New York, where he had a few concerts. You worked with him, you were a lyric writer and producer. He had called you last night, saying, that he would be getting in early and wanted to see you.

Keep reading

Prodigy - Teacher AU

“Could you just close the door and come over here? You have no reason to rush out, I didn’t post your grade. I want to discuss it in person.”

You swallowed hard at his words but did as you were told, closing the classroom door and going over to his desk. He was looking through the stack of students’ sketchbooks on his desk, presumably for your own. He pulled one of of the stack and laid it in the middle of his desk, and you froze. 

You could feel all color draining from your face once you noticed which sketchbook he had pulled out of the pile. There was a Hello Kitty sticker stuck to the top right corner of it, indicating it was your sketchbook.

Your personal sketchbook.

word count: 10.1k

genre: fluff & smut (a lot of soft/domestic stuff, concludes w smut)

Keep reading

your love could start a war

billy hargrove x reader

words: 1303 (this one got long idk i love dacre’s face)

warnings: language, fighting

request:  Could you do an Imagine where Billy flirts with the reader and he’s like a dick to everyone else but her and he even kicks someone’s ass because the person tried to flirt with the reader. Like not as aggressively as his fight with Steve at the end. Thanks if you do it :)

Billy Hargrove had a reputation. It wasn’t a good one, as most saw him as kind of a dick. His ‘fuck you’ attitude and disregard for what people thought of him, most of Hawkins wasn’t quite sure how to feel about him. Most were intimidated, trying to fly under his radar. But you never really understood why.

You’d only ever seen him as caring and kind since the first day you met him. He was always more concerned of you than himself. He gave you a sea of compliments, no matter how many times you told him to stop, and was the first person you called when you just needed something. From the first day you met him, he was nothing but the most amazing guy in the world, it was hard to think of him as otherwise. He always sat with you at lunch on the same bench every day, even though it wasn’t his lunch period. You sat on the bench now, basking in the sunlight and waiting for him.

“How’s my favorite girl?”

Keep reading

Bruise [ IX ]

Genre [Rating] : Angst [M]

Length: 6k

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: He wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, but that couldn’t stop your heart from believing otherwise.

Bruise Masterlist

Originally posted by loverkoreanasian

Red was the color that painted your skin through the sleepless night alone. Your eyes grew red from the endless stream of frustrated tears that dripped down your temples. Your cheeks changed hue from rawness, the sleeves of your sweater scratching away at them until they near bled. Your phone battery drained to zero, red painting the icon when you stared at it, debating calling him so his voice could fade your consciousness. Your lips drew too much blood to the surface when you bit down on them to stop another sigh from slipping out, desperate for it to all stop. Desperate for everything to be a dream you could wake up from rather than something you had to deal with when the sun rose back up into the sky.

Keep reading

know it all — p.p.

summary : may parker can’t fathom that you and her nephew aren’t dating yet- she can’t wait forever, you know, and she knows it’s going to happen eventually. when has may ever been wrong?

word count : 3k

author’s note : long time no see?? LOL sophomore year is successfully kicking my ass but i wrote this and it’s semi long so?? 

   May Parker prides herself on a lot of things- namely, her stunning resilience in the face of immense adversity, and the way she just seems to know things. She can’t help it, it’s her not so lame superpower and she uses it on Peter all the time, much to his annoyance. She earns a roll of the eyes whenever she says something out of the blue, so profound Peter can’t help but contemplate its credibility for the hours that follow their interactions. She knows things, she does, and she knows that you and her nephew are as meant to be as her and Ben were- are, she chastises herself sometimes- and she knows it so truly in the deepest recesses of her heart that the fact that you and Peter aren’t together is something that goes right over her head. 

   “Peter, hon, when’s your girl coming over? I miss having other ladies in the house,” she says one day, interrupting the silence that had settled upon the pair  as Peter recited the periodic table of elements so naturally in his head in preparation for a quiz the following day. Peter loses track somewhere between lithium and beryllium or maybe it was phosphorus, he doesn’t know anymore, when he hears May call you that, his girl, and he shakes his head at her wildly. “What? What’d I say?” May points her wooden spoon at him, and Peter’s reminded that she’s Italian for the fifth time that day. 

   “May, she’s not- she’s not my, like, girlfriend,” he stresses each syllable the word carries, practically throwing his pencil across the table when he turns his chair to get a better view of his aunt as she prepares dinner- pasta, again, because she claims it’s the only thing she can’t possibly mess up. “You know that! Y/N’s been my best friend forever.” 

    “You realize you can be best friends with your girlfriend, don’t you?” Peter can sense May’s eyes rolling even though he can’t see her since she’s facing the stove with her back turned. “You two have definitely kissed. You can’t tell me you haven’t.” 

    Peter’s entire face feels hot when she says that, his hands clammy when he presses them together against his cheeks, placing his elbows on the table to prop his head up. “That’s embarrassing, May. Why would you ever ask me that?” He runs his hands through his hair and the gel is so terribly packed on it that the carefully prepared hairstyle comes undone with one swift movement. “We haven’t, in case you’re wondering, which I know you are because you’re nosy.” Peter feels the spoon lightly poke into his back, a playful warning. 

   “Anyways,” May continues loudly, “as I was saying before, your girlfriend should come over for dinner sometime this week. I’m making pasta.” She grins before placing a bowl of penne in front of Peter, his least favorite pasta shape. Peter scowls at the penne but picks up his fork anyway and shoves some in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before giving May a thumbs up. At least she was proud of it. “I won’t make penne if you get her to come over.” 

    She knows she’s got him when she sees the slow, unsure nod start. He sticks his hand out, and May shakes it happily. “Only because of the penne. I want bowties. Please,” he gives his aunt his best, brightest, sweetest smile he can form, much like the ones that come so naturally when he turns his gaze to look at you- but May won’t bring that up just yet. “And don’t make girlfriend jokes in front of her.” His utensil stabs into the pasta as he thinks to himself, ‘cause if you keep it up in front of her, she’ll think I’m a weirdo and I’ll never genuinely get to call Y/N that, ever. Honestly, he’d much rather launch himself headfirst off of the Empire State Building than never get to experience kissing you, holding your hand, being with you in all those sorts of hopelessly romantic ways that he daydreams about regularly. He’s doing it again, slipping into that endless reverie he always seems to find himself lost in. But it’s okay. His mind is a chasm of soft loves and sweet words shared between the two of you. It’s a beautiful, long mess of a dream. 

   “You lost, Pete?” May snaps her fingers in front of his face, bemused. 

    “A little,” he sighs in that dreamy tone she recalls her own self indulging in so fondly in her younger years. His gaze becomes hazy again, like he’s on another plane entirely, but she lets him be. For now. 


    Peter knows he’s dressing up a little too much for just a friend. He’s spraying too much strong cologne and gelling his hair excessively and praying you won’t notice the fact that it’ll be dryer than the leaves in the wintertime, but it’s all too much for someone he insists is his best friend and his best friend alone, nothing more and nothing less, certainly not his girlfriend. Never that, right? Peter frowns at his reflection and tilts his head down, rubbing his head in attempt to remove most of the gel that had been a serious mistake in the first place. You preferred his hair curly, anyway. Not that he cared. Not in the slightest. He puts on the sweater that you once said looked lovely on him and he wears his nice jeans, the ones without that stupid hole near the butt cheek that you can’t really see unless you’re trying

   His cheeks flush when May gives a tiny, satisfied smirk upon seeing his perfectly put together outfit. He acts as if no time at all was spent on his appearance, but she knows him, like she knows everything else, and she knows that he’s been holed up in the bathroom for over twenty minutes now trying to see which shirt matched his eyes best and debating the chances of you realizing that this was the sweater you liked the most on him before he put it on and beamed at himself in the mirror. Maybe it was the color or the stitching or the fabric but he was starting to like this one much more, too. 

   “You look very handsome, sweets,” May says to him, squeezing his shoulder as she brushes past him to place a salad on the table. Peter surveys the salad with a strange look on his face. 

   “Why’d you make a salad? Since when does Y/N eat salad?” He raises his eyebrows at her, before adding with haste, “not that I don’t love your salad, Aunt May, ‘cause I do. I promise.”  

   Aunt May places her hands on her hips, peering at him through the tops of her glasses in a way that makes her look too wise for someone as young as she was. “I’m making a good impression, obviously.” 

   “You’ve known her for like ten years now, the time for good impressions is over, May. You missed your chance.”

   “This is the first time I’m seeing Y/N as your girlfriend, though!” Peter lets out the loudest groan imaginable, running his hands over his cheeks and slapping his forehead with great vexation. 

   “Still not my girlfriend,” he insists on insisting, taking the extra plates out of her busy hands and helping to set the small kitchen table. 

   May smooths back a loose strand of hair from his forehead with a kind, teasing grin on her face. “Doesn’t mean you don’t want her to be, kiddo.” 

   He can’t possibly argue with that sort of logic, especially not when his aunt hits the nail right on the head in that peculiar way she has a habit of doing, so he just smiles and kisses May on the cheek. There’s a knock on the door less than a second later, and the pair scramble for the upper hand before Peter beats her to it and nearly flies to grab the handle of it and yank it open so he can greet you accordingly, slightly out of breath with his hair flopping to one quite nicely and a joyous smile making its way across his mouth when he sees you for the first time that day. May hovers earnestly behind him, hands fluttering over her nephew’s shoulders so she can push past him to wrap you in a hug if need be. Sometimes Peter has the impression that May adores you even more than he does; he wasn’t sure if he should be glad for that, or a bit offended that you seemed to return the blatant favoritism with ardency. 

   There was a brief second where your eyes raked over your best friend’s face with soft admiration, hidden as carefully as you could manage. When you met his appreciative gaze you felt the palms of your hands clam up and so you cast your look back to his aunt and playfully pushed past him to give her a hug. 

   Peter, offense overriding his previously somewhat moonstruck expression, backed away from you when you finally turned toward him with your arms outstretched. “Oh, now I get a hug? Interesting,” he rolls his eyes in a teasing manner, unable and unwilling to conceal his little, loving smile that appeared when you pried his arms off his chest and defiantly wrapped them around yourself as you hugged him. “Didn’t seem so interested in hugging me when you were shoving me away to get to May,” he says, craning his neck to stare at you whilst continuing to drag the embrace out for as long as possible. 

   “You’re still my favorite Parker,” you reply, poking his chest lightly. Then you turn away before you can say anything else that could be considered too revealing of certain, carefully concealed feelings that had the possibility of being detrimental to a beautiful friendship that had manifested over the years into something more, but not quite, not yet. “Sort of,” you put as an afterthought, lest he get any ideas about you feeling… something for him. “Anyways, what’s for dinner, May?” You anticipate pasta, and when May announces the dish with a great flourishing of her hand, you grin. Typical, yes, but nothing if not welcomed. 

  Peter, gentleman that he is, pulls out your chair for you, and you let yourself imagine that he’s doing it as a chivalrous boyfriend and not simply a polite friend. He imagines the same, though. Imagines that he’s on a date with you and he pulls out your chair and smiles kindly and lovingly- and he basks in this image for as long as he can. May calls you over then, and the daydream is shattered. You make your way over to her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. 

   May lowers her voice before speaking, “Y/N, I’m gonna need you to explain something to me,” she starts. You nod, raising your eyebrows at her. “Explain why you and Peter aren’t together yet. Honestly, honey, I just can’t understand it.” She talks with her hands the way Peter does. 

   “Uh- what? I, um, I don’t… understand?” Your voice cracks a little, as if having May practically shove your less than friendly feelings for Peter back in your face wasn’t embarrassing enough. “We’re, um, you know, like, friends.” 

   Her hand waves dismissively, pushing that sentence away. “No, no, see that’s what he said, too! I have to disagree. I know everything, kiddo, and I know that you two are going to make it as a couple, so if that’s what your afraid of, don’t be. Go for it. I see the same thing in him that I see in you right now, and that thing is love. So, I’m going to need you to go make my nephew the happiest kid on Earth and tell him you’re falling in love with him, and you’ll see that he’s going to say the same thing to you. Trust me. Aunt May knows all,” she shrugs in a casual manner, brushing her confidence off, before she steers you around and gently pushes you back toward the tiny dining room table where Peter sits awkwardly fiddling with his thumbs with his lip caught between his teeth. 

   “Hi,” you almost whisper, settling down in your seat across from him. 

   He glances up. “Hey,” he says, smiling again. A reflex, in your presence. He clears his throat, then asks, “So, what’d you and May talk about?” He knows May loves him as if he were her son, which for all intents and purposes he is, but he can’t be sure of her secrecy. He wouldn’t put it past his aunt to let slip “accidentally” that he liked you, loved you, cared for you. 

   You take a sip of your glass of water that Peter must have filled in your absence from the table. You had a tendency to take sips of your drink when in uncomfortable conversations, or conversations you felt nervous in. He notes that. “Oh, um, nothing really… but if were gonna talk about it, I’d wanna do it in, like, private?” You twirl your straw around your drink, mixing the ice in the glass. Peter abruptly stands from his chair. You watch him sling a jacket around his shoulders and throw one of his sweaters at you, which you catch easily. “You wanna go now?” 

   He nods, licking his lips anxiously. “No better time than the present, right?” If you’re going to confront him and crush his heart with a single sentence that stands along the lines of I see you as a friend, he wants it done sooner rather than later. He wants it over with, so he can go back to his suffering in comfortable silence and start an attempt to move past this crush the way he had easily drifted away from his crush on Liz Allan. You fumble with the sweater as you stand. “May, we’re gonna step out for a bit!” Peter announces, opening the front door of his apartment and letting you slip out first. He doesn’t wait for her response before he disappears, too. May watches the two of you leave and feels her heart grow twice its size. 

  You’re standing outside the apartment building ten minutes later in the chilly autumn breeze, thankful for the cologne scented sweater that rests over your body like a warm blanket. Peter’s hands are never cold, and so they linger outside of his pockets as opposed to yours, shoved inside the front pocket of the sweater he’s given you. He reaches for your hands wordlessly and rubs them over his. “You’re always freezing,” he laughs quietly, lacing his fingers through yours with a new burst of confidence that you find endearing as you squeeze his hands. “Hey, wanna know something? You might know it already but, I figure I should tell you myself, if you wanna know.” He swings his hands back and forth, and yours swing along with his. 

   “Yeah, please,” you insist, twisting your head to the side to sweep the windswept hair out of your face. One of Peter’s hands comes up to brush it out of the way, typical and cliche and an overplayed move but none of that matters when the action is being carried out, because it makes your stomach constrict in that funny way and your heart melt into a puddle on the dirty sidewalk. His fingers linger over the softness of your cheek, and he keeps his hand there to see what you’ll say about it. You say nothing, let remain there. “You gonna tell me or not?” 

  “Should I- I could maybe…” he sucks on the bottom of his lip. “Forget it, I don’t know how to speak properly around you like this.” You start to protest, demand he tell you because you won’t be able to stop thinking about this if he doesn’t, but every word dies before it can touch the edge of your lips. Peter has his head lowered down toward you and he’s kissing you, a thought that’s crossed your mind more times than you were able to count but now, it’s happening. Real lips pressed against yours feverishly, shyness forgotten in the heat of the moment. When he pulls away first, it returns and collides with him as if he’s hit a brick wall, and his cheeks burn red. He makes no move to back away, still. “D-Did I step out of line? Was that okay? Do you hate me? ‘Cause if you do we can go back upstairs or you can leave and then on Monday we can pretend that this never happened because you’re still my best friend no matter what even if it’s awkward-” 

   Your hands clasp together around the back of his neck as you yank him down toward you again, and this time you kiss him back. You can feel him smiling so hard it makes it difficult to kiss him, but when you break away to tell him that, he just laughs and smiles harder and keeps kissing you. He doesn’t know how to stop now that’s he had the opportunity. You’re both laughing hysterically and trying to kiss properly and his nose bumps against yours repeatedly, and it’s the most perfect first kiss in the world. 

   He keeps his hand firmly grasped in yours when you go back upstairs to his seventh floor apartment, opens the door for you and everything. May is sitting at the table, turns her head to the both of you and peers at you from the top of her glasses. Peter raises his hand and yours, triumphant. May claps her hands together as he, your boyfriend, declares proudly, “Aunt May, I would like to formally introduce you to my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N, who I hope will be sticking around?” He looks to you for reassurance, and gets what he needs from the happy kiss you bestow upon the side of his face. 

   “I told you two I know everything!” Is what breaks the joyous silence, and then the laughter starts again; a perfectly lovely family. 

Keep reading

A to Z (Fluff) - Loki Laufeyson

Originally posted by tomhiddlesnews

A = Attractive what do they find attractive about the other?

Apart from how beautiful you are to him, he likes your assertiveness and your loyalty. He loves how sweet you are to him, even though he thinks he’s a monster - you always tell him otherwise and he loves you for that.

B = Baby do they want a family? why/why not?

He’d be scared to have a family with you, but he loves you and knows you deserve the world.

C = Cuddle how do they cuddle?

He likes to cuddle chest to chest with you because he’s a little spoon. He feels loved and appreciated by you when you wrap your arms around him and he can only give you the same affection

D = Dates what are dates with them like?

Loki Laufeyson is a fucking sPOILER!!! He loves to spoil you with everything and anything. Rose gold dress? He got it for you. Food? Already bought it. Romantic dates? He can take you to Paris with the snap of his fingers!

E = Everything you are my ____ (e.g my life, my world…)

“You are my queen. I’m loyal to you and only you. I want to give you everything you want and deserve. I want to serve you and make sure you know how beautiful you are.”

F = Feelings when did they know they were falling in love?

Thor had badly beaten up Loki, he was bleeding and bruised - tossed into an alleyway. If you hadn’t stopped Thor, Loki would’ve been dead. You quickly ran to him, not caring that he was a so-called “villain”. You took him back to your room and took care of him. You fixed him up and made sure that Thor wouldn’t pick on him again. You soon learned that Loki was misunderstood and tried desperately to convince others - then Loki knew that he had to have you and call you his.

G = Gentle are they gentle? If so, how?

HE’S SUPER GENTLE WITH YOU!! Even when you’re mad at him and banging your fists against his chest, he would still treat you like you were the most fragile thing in the universe!

H = Hand/Hold how do they like to hold? how do they like to hold hands?

He loved holding your hand. It made him feel an indescribable feeling. Your hand was small and warm in his big cold hands and when you touched, sparks started flying like fireworks on Christmas. He likes to lace his fingers with yours because he finds that your hand is the perfect fit for his - and he just knew that the universe gave him an angel

Keep reading

Forever?

               “No, you utter moron.” Draco snarled out in a whisper. “The instructions clearly read to add one bat spleen not two.”

               It took a lot of self-control for Harry to reign in the urge to commit murder. There were too many witnesses and Snape would probably enact revenge before he could even blink. He had thought that maybe after the war things would mellow down between the two of them, but it would seem that arguing was the only familiar action either of them could resort to.

               “If your ginormous head and ego wasn’t in the way, I might have been able to see that.”

               Draco narrowed his eyes dangerously as he wondered if Snape would look the other way if he just dunked Potter’s head in the cauldron. It would have to improve the Gryffindor’s stupidly handsome appearance. Part of him—a small part—didn’t want to fight with the brunette but the rest of him loved the normalcy to it. The simple but yet established argufy.

               “I will have you know that my ego could do with more inflation and my head is proportionate to my body.” The ‘unlike yours’ was left out but Draco felt as if his point had been met.

               That had Harry arching a lone brow. “If you inflate your ego any more than it already is, I fear what will happen to the rest of us. We will be collateral damage to your impending disaster.”

               “Salazar, I swear if you don’t start improving our potion instead of standing around like the gaping fool that you are, I will—”

               “You’ll what?” Harry interrupted, folding his arms across his chest and glaring angrily.

               “Potter, quit talking and actually participate in today’s potion.” Snape’s voice rang out, catching the rest of the class’ attention.

               Before Harry could point out that Malfoy had been talking too, the man continued with a smirk. “Ten points from Gryffindor.”

               For a brief—nearly minuscule—moment, Harry thought about telling the man exactly what he thought of his unfair treatment, but common sense kicked in and he wisely kept his mouth shut. He had also thought that the man would improve after nearly dying but of course that was just asking too much.

               It wasn’t until Snape turned around that Harry looked back to the potion. He pointedly ignored Malfoy’s smug smirk.

               “Karma; such a beautiful thing.” Draco whispered, loving the way the brunette clenched his jaw angrily. Merlin, he never felt more alive than when he was baiting Potter.

               “I fucking hate you.” Harry whispered back, shaking his head firmly when the smirk widened. He was too distracted by the Slytherin’s pretentious but perfect teeth that it wasn’t until the cauldron emitted a horrible smell that he knew a mistake had been made.

               “I deserve an Order of Merlin for having to deal with you.” Draco growled as he shoved the other boy to the side and began trying to fix whatever the idiot just did.

               “Hey!”

 ———————————————————————

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

(I love your writing it makes me wanna jump off a cliff with happiness) Can I uHHHHHHH get a drarry fic where it's 8th year and draco is quite and none of his friends are at hogwarts so he starts to make a habit of going outside at night and star gazing, one night harry decides he wants a break from the crowds so he goes outside only to find a sleepy draco and a whole lotto stars (Sorry if this ask sounded so demanding)

Ah thank you that’s so kind!  Only don’t go jumping off any cliffs!  Unless you’re base diving maybe…oh or bungee jumping.  Then that’s alright.  Also this took awhile because I started writing this in tumblr and IT ATE MY DAMN DRABBLE AND I WAS SO MAD, so it took me awhile to be less angry and start to try to write it all over.


“What’re you doing out here?”  

Draco jumps at the unexpected voice, snapping his eyes open and shooting the other boy a dirty look which is met with an impish grin.  Draco would be more annoyed at the interruption if he weren’t finding it so attractive.  Fucking Potter, try as he might Draco can’t seem to dislike a single thing about him anymore.

“I was…relaxing.”

“Looked like you were sleeping.”  

“I was not sleeping.  I was enjoying some peace and quiet before you so rudely interrupted.”

Potter doesn’t respond right away, so Draco finally looks at him and is surprised to see the other boy looking, well, nervous.  He wants to roll his eyes.  He doesn’t understand Potter sometimes, how he can be so smart and sarcastic and full of life and the next moment look like he’s unsure he’s wanted; he wonders what’s happened in his life that could make Potter so unsure how other people feel about him.  He wants to know desperately but they aren’t there yet so he files it away in his mental list of things he wants to know about Potter but may never find out.

When Potter makes no move to speak, or leave, Draco scoots to the side making room for the other boy to sit beside him.  He doesn’t say anything, just makes a bit of extra room on the blanket he’d transfigured when he’d come outside.  Thankfully words aren’t necessary and Potter slides down right next to him, impossibly close to Draco.

“So, Potter, what exactly are you doing here?  Isn’t there some sort of party going on in the common room?”

Potter huffs out a laugh, rubbing his hands on his knees.  “There’s always a party going on.  I just…there’s,” he sighs, looking a bit uncomfortable as if he isn’t sure what to say.

“There’s a lot of people in there.  Rather noisy.”  Draco sometimes wonders how it seems as if they both seem to feel the same, despite the fact that their experiences couldn’t have been more different.  It should be weird, realizing how much they have in common, but instead it just feels right.

The tension visibly leaves Potter’s body at Draco’s words.  “Yes…yes, that.”

After several quiet moments, Draco finds himself speaking without even consciously deciding to do so.  “I came outside to watch the stars.  Growing up I always liked astronomy, and I know what you’re thinking but it wasn’t some narcissist thing because I’m named after a bloody constellation alright.  It’s just…they’re fixed you know?  No matter what happens, whether we can see them or not, the stars are always the same.  I like that, knowing that some things are constant.”

“It’s beautiful,” Potter whispers, but when Draco turns his head to agree he realizes Potter isn’t looking at the stars, he’s looking at him.  And then Potter’s hand is reaching towards him, one of them reaching out to tangle his fingers with Draco’s and the other moving to the back of his neck.  They’re so close Draco can feel the other boy’s warm breath ghosting across his face.

“What are you doing, Potter?”

“No fucking idea,” he mumbles, closing the distance and pressing his lips to Draco’s.  Potter taste like fire whiskey and chocolate, and his lips are ice cold and chapped.  It’s perfect.

It occurs to Draco, as Potter pushes him down on the blanket, kissing him as if he were the air Potter needed to breath, that Draco has spent his entire life looking for something that wouldn’t change when maybe what he should’ve been doing was finding someone or something worth changing for.

Maybe like a dying star they will crash and burn, or maybe they’ll stay a constant he can look for on his darkest days.  All Draco knows as he reaches out to touch Potter in as many places as possible, is that for once in his life maybe he’s not so afraid of the unknown anymore.

Lovesick

A Bucky x Reader / smut

A/N: This is a rewrite of one of my SPN fics called ‘Purr’. I haven’t had much of a mojo to write anything new, but I wanted to put some kind of content out for you guys. Also, you’ll be happy to know it’s mechanic!Bucky. I hope you like it. Please let me know what you think ♥

Word Count: 1,629

Warnings:
- SMUT.
- 18 or over please.
- if i see any blog under 18 like this or reblog it, I will have to block you.
- please, always wear a condom.

Tags: (no tags this time besides my peeps, please see the bottom of this fic if you would like to be tagged in future fics)

*gif is not mine.

Bucky had been gawking at you all day like a lovesick teenager. When your eyes would meet his sapphire blues, he’d quickly look away, as if he didn’t want you to notice his wandering eyes. You saw him though, saw his shimmering orbs scan over every inch of your body, stopping at your breasts and lingering there. Sometimes his mouth would hang open just an inch as he stared and you were surprised he never drooled, those perfect pouty lips making you want to attack his mouth in broad daylight.

You’d be lying if you said you were the innocent one, the urge to fuck his brains out growing with each moment you spent with him. When he was practicing his combat skills at Stark Tower, or tuning up Steve’s bike in the garage, you’d watch the muscles work underneath his skin with each movement, longing to run your fingers over each vein.

You’d brought him a bottle of water and watched drops of sweat run down his forehead, across his cheek, and disappear into his shirt. You’d balled your hands into fists at your sides, the urge to taste the salty liquid from his skin overwhelming you. So many times you had thought about what it would be like to feel his huge, strong hands working you over like he did baby’s engine.

“Y/N?” Bucky said sharply, snapping you out of your dirty thoughts. You clenched your thighs together and could already feel the wetness pooling in your panties. “Can you pass me that wrench from the toolbox?” You got up on shaky legs and grabbed the wrench you thought he needed from the rusted, red toolbox on the backseat.

“Thank you,” he started, taking it from your hands. “But that’s not the one. Let me show you.” His hand found the small of your back, leading you to the toolbox. He pulled out the correct wrench and presented it to you. His hand was on your back again, guiding you back to Steve’s bike. “See, this one fits because of the way this bolt goes.” You watched him bend over, admiring the grease that was speckled up and down his forearms and biceps. You were suddenly uncomfortable, your thoughts turning to pure filth as you imagined him smearing that grease all over your naked skin.

“I- I’m gonna go inside,” you stammered, fidgeting with your hands. “It’s too hot out here.”

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you walked to the door of your motel room, your heart beating loudly in your chest. You closed the door behind you and pressed your back to it, letting out the deep breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Suddenly exhausted, you flopped down on your stomach onto the bed closest to the door, and fell asleep almost instantly.


You had no idea how much time had passed, but sunlight was still shining through the curtains as you fluttered your eyelids open. After your brain peeked through your sleep induced fog, your senses realized what had awoken you. Calloused fingertips ran down your bare thighs from behind you, followed by full hands rubbing your tired muscles. You closed your eyes again and took moment to catch your breath, knowing it was Bucky.

“Is this okay?” You heard him whisper, the smell of oil and leather invading your senses. Suddenly, his hands were right below your ass, cupping the soft flesh there.

“Are you joking?” you asked without thinking, feeling goosebumps rise along your skin at his touch. This is what you’d been dreaming about for weeks. “Please don’t stop.”

As if a switch had been flipped in him, Bucky suddenly had his hands around your waist, flipping you over onto your back. He was still covered in grease, even more so now from working on the bike. His hands moved hungrily underneath your shirt, smearing the black substance along your heated skin. You felt like you were on fire, about to combust, when his lips suddenly crashed into yours. A moan escaped your lips and got lost in his mouth, as he brought your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for this? To touch you like this?” He growled into your neck, as he peppered it with quick and lustful kisses. “Too fucking long.”

“I- I saw the way you looked at me,” you managed to say, Bucky’s lips moving down to your collarbone and suckling there. “Like you were undressing me with your eyes.”

Bucky brought his eyes up to meet yours; those beautiful, swirling pools of blue. You felt your breath hitch at the sudden eye contact, your teeth biting on your bottom lip. You swore his face was made of marble, the beautiful creases by his eyes and even the tiny scar on his cheek so beautiful. You brought your hand up to trace the lines on his cheeks, and his eyes instinctively closed at your soft touch.

“You caught me,” he answered with a sly smile, his tongue snaking out to swipe over his plush bottom lip. “Now I want to undress you for real. Do you mind?”

His eyes were glinting with mischief and lust. How could you say no to someone so attractive? You shook your head no, unable to form words. Bucky quickly disposed of your grease covered t-shirt and bra, following with your cotton shorts. You suddenly remembered that you had failed to put on any panties today, suddenly self-consciously naked under his intimidating gaze. Bucky whistled, the sound echoing off the motel room walls.

“Would you look at that pretty pussy?” he groaned out, brushing his thumb softly across your already swollen clit. “Just as I imagined it would be.”

He got down on his knees at the end of the bed and put his palms underneath your ass to pull you closer to him. Your nipples were so sensitive and hard already, you couldn’t help but roll them between your fingers as you watched Bucky’s mouth come closer and closer to your dripping sex. “What do you say I make you purr like Steve’s bike outside, hmm?”

Before you could even answer, his soft lips were wrapped around your clit. At first, his tongue moved in torturous circles around your bundle of nerves, before sucking it into his mouth and making your toes curl. Every few seconds he’d stop, allowing you to catch your breath and swiping his tongue inside you to taste your juices, before sucking your clit into his mouth again and again. You were so close to cumming already and he could tell, your entire body trembling, your legs instinctively trying to close around his head. Bucky inserted one of his thick fingers inside you, growling at your walls pulsing around it.

“Fuck,” he growled, curling up his finger to brush perfectly against your g-spot. “Let me feel you cum, Y/N.”

That’s all it took for your orgasm to crash through you in a violent wave, your entire body jerking on the bed, your moans reaching the ceiling.

“You’re so sweet and you taste even sweeter,” Bucky said, sucking your juices off his finger. Your entire chest and face was flushed scarlet from your orgasm, your pussy aching for Bucky to fill you up.

“Please, Bucky,” you begged, tugging at his belt and pulling him closer.

“Tell me,” he commanded, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

“I need to feel you fill me,” you whispered, and his eyes lit up even more. His pants and boxers were pooled around his feet quicker than you could blink. You gasped at the sight of his hard, thick cock pointed right in your direction. You couldn’t help but reach your hand out to grab it, to feel the ridges and veins glide in your palm as you stroked him up and down. You licked the bead of precum off the tip of his cock, ensuring you made eye contact with him the entire time.

“Lay back,” he said, taking his cock into his own hand and lazily stroking it. He spread your legs apart with his free hand and ran the head along your slick folds, brushing it against your clit with each turn. He eased himself in slow, allowing your tight walls to accommodate his size. Bucky hissed between his teeth as he sunk himself deep inside you, feeling your sweetest spot against his sensitive tip. He pumped his hips into you at a slow pace at first, but you were already desperate for more friction, desperate for him to fuck the ever loving shit out of you.

“Faster,” you breathed out, the desperation in your voice thick and needy. “Harder. Fuck me.”

Bucky pumped into you faster and faster, the redness creeping up his chest as he fucked you deeper and deeper. His fingers dug into your ankles so deeply, he left marks. The sweat from his brow was dripping onto your stomach now,

“I’m going to fucking cum so deep inside you,” he grunted out between thrusts, the feeling of his hard cock pulling at your walls making you want to cum again. “I can’t hold it anymore.” You watched as Bucky’s face contorted and you felt his cock twitch inside you as he came, sending you over the brink yourself. You both moaned each other's’ names as you released, tingles pricking at your skin. He collapsed on top of you, the grease from his arms now rubbing all over you once more. Once you were both able to catch your breath, Bucky propped himself up on his elbow to look at you.

“You’re all dirty,” he said, a sly smirk on his face. “What do you say I go clean you up?”


@howlingbarnes @captainrogerss @sebbytrash @marvel-ash @mrs-squirrel-chester @captain-rogers-beard

I’m starting a new tag list!

Please visit this link to add yourself to my tag list by category. For now it’s all Bucky, and I’ve included ‘all fics’ and ‘no smut’. Thanks for your continued support guys. Let me know if this link doesn’t work. I love you all ♥

TEW Dating Headcanons


Dating Sebastian would involve:

  • Falling asleep alone but waking up with him. He doesn’t like staying out late for work, but definitely makes up for it with warm cuddles
  • This man cannot cook but will try his very best to impress you with plenty of home cooked meals and other little labors of love
  • Sometimes when he’s drunk he really can’t keep all the horrible things he’s seen, and all his fears from spilling out. He’s always afraid you’ll leave because of he’s such a unreliable wreck. Just hold him tight. He’s a sensitive guy and needs love and support.
  • Big on PDA, no mater the time or the place if he gets the urge to kiss and cling to you it’s going to happen
  • Acts really confident and serious during lewd acts but will fall apart if you give him attention
  • Seb’s a detective. He almost always a pair of handcuffs on hand. No need to say anything else.


Dating Joseph would involve:

  • He is such a dork and will try to be really formal and polite the first few months you are dating. A bit old fashioned and always a gentleman.
  • Working at the KPD is overwhelming but with your support he feels like he can do anything
  • So passionate it’s rather infectious. Seeing him get excited about a movie/book/whatever seems to rub off on you even if you have zero knowledge/investment in what he’s obsessing over
  • Loves receiving PDA. Hoh boy its wild how reactive he is to every little touch. He’s a bit loud though, so maybe save it for home and not at the station.
  • He’s so soft spoken and gentle but he is fucking strong. It’s almost frightening when you see him work with an axe to cut wood. Wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of that.
  • Soft cinnamon roll in the streets, total freak in the sheets


Dating Ruvik would involve:

  • First and foremost is his work. If you really are serious about being with him, be ready to lend a helping hand in the lab
  • PDA is a no go at first. He’s not too self conscious about his burns but still doesn’t like being touched or exposed for prolonged periods of time. gradually he’ll come to enjoy holding hands and hugs, but it’ll take some trust.
  • Ruvik is petty as fuck and will hold grudges. Expect small acts of revenge (nothing lethal or really harmful) in the strangest of places.
  • His version of ‘talking dirty’ is using very detached and scientific observations to describe the situation he has you in and what he plans to do you. Don’t expect your actual name to be used. You are just another test subject after all.
  • While he doesn’t seem to care and appears cold at times, he is trying so hard to be a better man. While they are few and far between, he will make grand gestures to try and show how he really feels.


Dating Laura would involve:

  • Sneeking out in the middle of the night to see her at the Victoriano mansion
  • She is so soft and beautiful but she is such a fighter. She has a strong spirit and will do anything to protect what she believes in and you are constantly amazed by her sheer resolve
  • She will always blush really hard if you compliment her, without fail. She says she doesn’t like all the flattery but really she holds everything you say close to her heart
  • She will sing until you fall asleep, and loves writing small songs about you
  • She isn’t super confident with PDA, so you’ll have to make the first move. With some reasurement that you love being seen with her she’ll get much more daring with handholding/kissing in public
  • The last gift you receive before the fire from her is a small locket with a picture of the both of you inside.


Dating Stefano would involve:

  • Art. 24/7. You’ll never not be hearing about his art or other artists that he admires.
  • Stefano is rather private about how his art is made and doesn’t divulge many details, but loves the fact that you constantly ask how he does it.
  • Will never ask you to model for him. Don’t take it personally. He just wants to keep you all to himself. The world doesn’t deserve to see the true face of his muse.
  • Not super into PDA but he does leave plenty of marks in the bedroom. No public displays are needed for other people to know that you’re taken.
  • Stefano might take a few pictures now and then when you don’t realize he’s watching.
  • Despite his smug and superior attitude, he does have a good heart (most of the time) and always is someone you can depend on
  • Might like having you depend on him just a little too much…


Dating Tatiana would involve:

  • Team mom will do everything in her power to make you feel safe and loved
  • Not the best at expressing affection out loud and usually comes off as sarcastic but man is she a sap for writing poetry for you
  • She tries to maintain a small ‘garden’ in her office so she can give you bouquets when pretty flowers are in season
  • Middle of the road when it comes to PDA. Either no physical contact whatsoever or she goes full force.
  • She’s a dom. Sorry I don’t get to make the rules
  • She loves spoiling you with gifts


(Bonus: Monsters)


Dating Reborn Laura would involve:

  • General disclaimer, watch out for those nails
  • You were sure the thing was going to maul you the first time you encountered it, but soon the resemblance between the creature and your deceased lover makes sense
  • It’s hard to tell if this Laura remembers you or not, but you aren’t dead yet so that’s got to count for something
  • No need to fear the other creatures of STEM when your significant other is top of the food chain


Dating Haunted Joseph would involve:

  • It’s never clear if he wants to kiss you or eat you
  • So many bite and scratch marks.
  • Despite his aggressive nature, Joseph seems to have brief moments of lucidity in which he frantically apologizes for what he’s done to you.
  • Possessive and nasty as fuck. It’s not beneath him to openly take out his aggression on other Haunted so that any and all monsters will keep away from you and him.
  • Returning his affections will calm him… temporarily


Dating The Keeper would involve:

  • B i g boy
  • Expect to be carried in his arms or over his shoulder everywhere
  • Honestly the best at hugs and cuddles
  • The tentacles that sprout from the inside of his safe are a bit frightening but they seem to help The Keeper sense his surroundings and gradually become less scary.
  • Cant really kiss but will bend down to softly press his head against yours to show affection
  • Look you will probably die if you attempt lewds. If you are so determined to bang the Keeper just take it slow for your own sake


Dating Obscura would involve:

  • Loves cuddles but she doesn’t really realize that the size difference might be a bit hard on her human
  • Touching her ‘face’ makes her purr, just avoid smudging her lens!
  • Loves bringing back gifts and random things she finds in STEM. Some of these things are more pleasant than others…
  • Stefano is protective of his sweet Obscura. Don’t piss him off.
  • Obscura especially loves ‘surprise hugs’. Try not to have a heart attack when she drops from the ceiling to engage in some PDA
Qoaad excerpt

from here

Emma and Julian have been walking for some hours when Emma realized they were being followed. It had actually been a pretty pleasant walk, along a tramped path in the woods. Julian was easy enough to talk to when she tried not to think about how he felt about her or how he felt. They avoided the topics of Livvy and the parabatai curse and talked instead about the Clave and what it’s next plan might be and how Zara might figure into them. Julian walked ahead holding a map. consulting it when enough light rayed down from the trees to make it readable.

“We could reach the Unseelie Court by tomorrow,” he said, pausing in the middle of the clearing. “Depending how much we’re willing to travel at night.”

Emma stopped in her tracks.”We’re being followed.” she said.

Julian stopped as well and turned to her, holding the map. “You’re sure?”

His voice was quiet. Emma strained an ear, a tiny breakage of branches behind them, the thump of a footfall. She nodded, “I’m sure.”

There was no doubt in Julian’s eyes, Emma felt a faint gratification that even in his current state Julian trusted her skills implicitly.

“We can’t run.” he said. He was right, the trail was too rocky.

“Come on,” Emma grabbed Julian’s hand and a moment later they were skinning up the tallest of the oak trees in the clearing. Emma found the fork of a branch and sold into it, Julian swung up across from her. They clung to the tree trunk and looked down.

Footfalls were getting closer. Hoofbeats, Emma realized and then a kelpie, dark green with a mane of shimmering seaweed rose into the clearing, a rider on it’s back. 

Emma sucked in her breath, the rider was a man wearing shadowhunter gear. She leaned down to see more. Not a man, a boy. Thin and narrow faced with shots of black hair. 

“Dane Larkspear on a kelpie,” Julian muttered. “What is this? If I see Zara come riding on the Loch Ness Monster we’re going home.”

The kelpie had stopped dead in the middle of the clearing, it was rolling it’s eyes, deep black with no whites. Closer up it looked less like a horse even thought it had a mane and tail and four legs more like a frightening creature thing. Something that never meant to be out of water.

“Hurry up,” Dane jerked on the kelpie’s bridle and and a memory flickered in the back of Emma’s mind, something about bridling a kelpie forced it to obey you. “We need to find Emma and Julian before nightfall.” 

The kelpie spoke, Emma jolted. “I do not know those creatures, master. I do not know what they look like.”

“It doesn’t matter, pick up their trail.” Dean smacked the kelpie across the shoulder. “Okay I’ll describe them for you, Julian’s the kind of guy who would have a girl as a parabatai, get it?”

“No.” Said the kelpie. 

“He spends all his time chasing little kids around, he had like a million children. It’s really creepy.”

“In my culture it is men who bear children.” Said the kelpie. 

“That’s disgusting,” said Dane. “Now pay attention. Emma, she’s the kind of girl that’d be hot if she ever shut up.”

“I will kill him,” Emma said. “I will kill him while talking the whole time.”

“I don’t really understand human attitudes towards beauty,” said the kelpie. “I like seaweed on a woman.”

“Shut up,” Dane jerked the bridle and the kelpie exposed it’s needle-like teeth in a hiss. “We need to find them before the sun goes down.” His smile was ugly. “Once I get back with the black book Zara will give me anything I want. Maybe one of Julian Blackthorn’s sisters.” 

Emma was out of the tree so fast, the world was a blur of green leaves and red rage. She landed on Dane Larkspear and knocked him out of his saddle forcing an ‘oof’ of pain out of him when they hit the ground together. She punched him in the stomach and he doubled up while she sprang to her feet, she grabbed her sword. She would have been worried if Julian wouldn’t have followed her but he was already on the ground, yanking off the kelpie’s bridle. 

“My lord,” the kelpie bowed it’s forelegs to Julian. Dane was coughing and gagging, rolling on the ground in pain. “Thank you for freeing me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Julian said. 

The kelpie straightened. “May you find fortune and good luck in many children.

“Thanks.” Julian tossed the bridle aside and the kelpie dashed into the forest.

Emma stood over Dane with her sword pointed at his throat, laying flat on the ground he glared at her. “What are you doing Larkspear, we were sent to get the black book, not you.”

“Sure, you were sent to get it,” he turned his dead and spat blood. “And then I was supposed to get it from you. That’s what I was sent to do.”

“And we weren’t supposed to notice you following us? You sounded like an elephant, a sexist elephant. You’re a terrible Shadowhunter.“ Said Emma.

"No one asked you.”

“Be quiet. And did the Inquisitor seriously tell you that if you got the book from us you could have Dru? She’s thirteen!”

 Dane just stared at her. “What?” Emma’s voice dripped sarcasm, “Am I talking too much?”

Emma suddenly realized Dane wasn’t staring at her but behind her, Julian had come up quietly and was standing with his longsword in his hand looking at Dane with a frightening coldness.

“You know,” he said. “That if you ever touch Dru, I’ll kill you.”

Dane pushed himself up on his elbows. “You’ll be dead by then.”

5 REASONS TO FALL IN LOVE:

      When it came to love, you never understood what all the fuss was about, truly, you didn’t. Not until you met Steve Harrington, that is, and the whole world just started making sense.


EARLY MORNING KISSES:

The first privilege came in arguably the most affectionate show of love – a kiss placed on your lips so early in the morning you never quite know whether you’re dreaming or awake. And it is the absolute sweetest because you are the first thing on Steve’s mind when he opens his eyes and the last one before he closes them.

Early birds chirp their cheery tunes at dawn and the sun slowly rises; bright rays peak through the closed curtains of your room and burn the side of your cheek in almost a loving way. Steve is the first to stir – naturally, he is much more sensitive to sudden changes in lighting and temperature – and once he pries one hazy sleep ridden eye open all he can make out is a blurry image of your white ceiling. He blinks a few times, inhales a few breaths that taste like your perfume before his senses finally flow back into him and he tilts his head to the side. His hair sticks to his face and he shoves it out his eyes; he sees you still deep in sleep and most likely dreaming. And he wastes no time to lay his hand on your waist, feel your hot skin burn his fingertips as a lazy smile blooms on his lips. This peace lasts a moment, or possibly much longer, after all it’s hard to tell time when most of the world is still sleeping. He leans in and captures your lips in a soft kiss – a kiss he gives you every morning because true to the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty, you can only be awoken by a true loves kiss. He tried other methods. Tickling. Calling your name. A dozen alarm clocks. Nothing got a reaction, except this one thing and he did not use it sparingly.

The vast skies of dreams cloud with reality as slowly you feel yourself sucked into a stuffy, hot room, with dewy sweat coating your skin and batches of hair tickling your cheeks. The senses alert  in one deep inhale and you grin immediately once you realize that Steve’s lips still rest on yours; a raspy giggle escapes you as you playfully smack his arm and he gradually, with one last peck on your cheek and a sweet and hoarse ‘Good morning…’ moves back to his pillow. Your hand finds his under the sheets, your fingers squeezing his as you hum.

Babe…” You whisper.

“Yea?”

Not morning…”

“Morning. School.”

No.”


MOVIE DATES:

Hawkins Movie Theatre is your favorite spot to hang out and of course Steve knows this. After all, he took you here on your first date. So each time you stepped through those double doors felt like the first time holding his hand all over again.

Midnight séance. A horror movie with flashy imagery and more nudity than you expected plays on screen as teenagers that are legal and not sit in couples and whisper amongst themselves. You sink into the plush red seat and inhale the scent of popcorn, cola, and something frying. The sounds are loud and unpleasant and you have to refrain from cringing when the volume jumps just a bit too loud. Your eyes stay glued to the screen despite the urge to ogle your boyfriend – you know that once you glance at him you will be unable to look away.

His hand rests on your thigh. Naturally, shoulder hugs are only for starting lovebirds, but you still remember how he pulled the old ‘yawn-wrap-my-arm-around-your-shoulders-don’t-freak-out-please’ shtick on you and how you absolutely swooned. Suddenly memories appear more interesting than the movie and you drift away. Oh, what a rainy day it had been when he had asked you out, not all that smug and cool. Not like the rumors painted him to be at all. He caught you after school, after basketball practice, as you were leaving your club with a stack of books and flyers occupying the space in your hands. He had offered to carry some heavier books and you had smiled sweetly at him for it. Then, once you reached your locker, and as you put the clutter away he had asked you if you wanted to ‘Catch a movie sometime?’. Your first reaction was to raise a brow in confusion and mild amusement. When you saw that he was serious, and despite himself nervous, your cheeks bloomed red and a shaky ‘Yeah…I’d like that’ fell from your lips before you could even think about it.

Steve’s hand squeezes your thigh and you perk up. Meeting eyes with him you try to bite down the smile. Seems he got bored of the movie, too.


SHARING SECRETS:

Your house had been turned upside down as you, in great anger, tried to explain what the hell had happened to one of your friends. And how no one was supposed to know about it.

Steve sat on your bed with a book in his hand – English literature, can’t say it’s his favorite – as you pace around the small space of your room with your hands up in the air repeating the same wild gestures as you fight to control the volume of your voice. With blushed cheeks and a permanent frown on your face, you suddenly halt and stare at him, “Can you believe it?!”

“No.” He says, turning a page, “How could she?” His voice tatters on the edge of genuine interest. Frankly, he doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal, but if you want to vent he isn’t going to stop you.

“I know, right!?” You release a frustrated sigh and run a shaky hand through your hair; a moment of absolute silence passes and worried Steve glances up at you. Wide eyed, you state, “I don’t think I can be friends with her after this.”

You want his opinion. Dear God, you want his opinion. His advice is debatable in quality (Dustin, after all, didn’t get the girl despite Steve’s 100% proven technique) and to toss in his two cents in the beef that you have with your friend? This may potentially ruin your and hers friendship, or at the very least what’s left of it. Silently, he puts the book aside and motions for you to come closer. Sadly you walk over, and gently grasping your hand he pulls you into his lap. His head comes to rest on your shoulder as his arms wrap around your waist and you find a comfortable position to rest. A heavy sigh escapes your lips and he can’t help but frown. He doesn’t want to see you like this.

Hey…” He calls softly, his fingers hooking some loose strands of (color) hair over your ear, “Don’t be sad. I mean, I’m really not the best person to discuss girl troubles with, but like you said…She’s a bitch.”

You nod, “I know, but…But she’s my bitch, Steve.”

He thinks, “…Yeah. She’s your bitch.”

“I should call her.”

“Yep. You go do that.”


TAKING PICTURES TOGETHER:

You love looking at pictures. Especially on rainy days when there is nothing better to do and the need for social interaction is on an all-time low. You suppose you like them so much because they are proof. Proof that something magical had happened.

Oh my God!” Your mother cries, her hands grasping the Polaroid camera as if her life depends on it, “Oh my God, (F/Name)! (F/Name) come here! Our little baby’s all grown up now!” Her voice cracks at the end and you can’t help but release an amused smile.

You share a look with Steve. He gives a shrug. The two of you stand together, his arm around your waist. Graduation. You wear your best dress, finest hairdo, and perfect smile. You are positive Steve put an extra hours’ worth of work into his hair today, and you have the sudden urge to run your finger through it, though the amount of self-control you have surprises even you.

Another flash lights up the room and flinch and squint your eyes to shield yourself from the sudden attack. This is possibly the sixteenth picture that had fallen to the floor with your mothers promise to ‘Pick it up later! Now pose!’. Not having the heart in you to refuse her, you straighten your back, smile to the camera, and pray that you don’t look half as uncomfortable as you feel. Steve leans in and you feel his breath brush your ear, “Do you think she’ll ever stop?”

“Smile and pretend like you’re having a good time, sweetie.”


VIBING ALL NIGHT LONG:

The amount of records you have stocked up in your room makes Steve proud to call you his girl. The fact that the two of you share the same music taste is a huge plus, too.

…And your favorite song starts playing on the radio that goes in perfect tune with your laughing. Steve’s car suddenly turns into a dance floor – you squirm in your seat and do quick work to open the window to let the whole neighborhood hear your jam. The stars shape into fairy lights and street lamps flicker like at the disco on a Friday night. You close your eyes and inhale the scent of dewy grass as and wind and pollinated sleeping flowers. Summer is your favorite time of year, and no matter what hour you decide to sneak out the house you always find yourself in a permanent state of daze and awe. Last remnants of heat tickle your cheeks and you flash your eyes open, look at Steve and he shares your brilliant smile.

You hold your choice of beer up to his face, “Sippy!” You demand. He gives you a dismissive laugh, his hands firmly on the steering wheel as he continues to drive around.

“I can’t—“ But before he can finish you turn up the volume and demand again.

“Sippy!”

“I’ll have to park the car!” He warns. You shake your head, “We’ll have to walk a mile home!”

“Don’t care! Sippy!”



a/n: edited this at 3am lmao don’t @ me if u find mistakes orz
ALSO! FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST <3

if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!

MASTERLIST.


forever tags: @tozierswheelers @princesspeach212@ohblue@phillipas00@ichigothewisewolf@alittlebitofmagic@vanillaladyuniverse@onehellofdevilotaku@itsallinyourimagination @whatshernamemaria@magical-spit @viixenbriiar @averagewemo@sams-my-babys-daddy @jordysgirl87 @iamhereyoudidthis @thehuntchback@badbitsh13 @orchiddarling @michelangelui@hugeroftrees @pupylvr4905@gcnnyweasleys@nerdysandwichqueen @oomylifeiseternalsufferingoo@cheshirecatbyul @broken-pieces  @multiphandom-unicorn @duncruce@mercymomlovesyouforever @ninetynineredballoonsgoby@httpvirtualgraves @eighties-hoe

Mafia!BTS Reaction: You Know Their Secret (Hyung Line)

Maknae Line | Masterlist

Anonymous asked: Do you take reaction requests?? If so could u do a bts reaction where theyre in the mafia and try to keep it a secret from you but youve known for while and they just found out that you’ve known? tysm!!

A/N: I do take requests! I went kinda overboard, so I’m just gonna do the hyung line for now. 

–SEOKJIN–

You had just taken a big bite out of Jin’s latest dish. It was delicious and flavorful as always, but maybe a little too much. You coughed, hitting your chest with one hand as Jin panicked, rushing to bring you some water. After downing a whole glass, you breathed a sigh of relief. So did Jin.

“I’m so sorry, honey! For a second I thought I’d killed you.”

Still recovering, you weren’t thinking as your next words tumbled out of your mouth.

“You’re a professional killer, so it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

A long, heavy silence fell over the room as you both realized what you had just said. Horror twisted in your gut. Crap. How could you cover this up?

“What did you just say?” Jin asked, voice low with something very, very dangerous.

There was a long moment where you both stood there, unmoving and unblinking, just staring at one another. Then the panic settled in. Your breathing became quicker, your eyes wide. He knew. He knew you knew. This was bad. He was angry. This was bad.

Jin took a step forward, features softening as he approached you slowly, like one would approach a wounded animal.

“Darling, calm down. It’s—“

Thoughts still hazy, you turned on your heel and made a break for the door, running as fast as you possibly could.

Jin was faster.

You barely made it out of the kitchen when you felt his hand circle around your arm in a vice grip. In the next instant, he slammed you against the nearest wall with terrifying strength you had always known he possessed. You winced, screwing your eyes shut as you looked down. You couldn’t look at him—you were afraid of what you would see.

Gentle but firm, his other hand gripped your chin and made you look into his eyes. They were soft and gentle, the same as they had always been. You felt yourself relax, just a little bit, at that.  

“I think,” he finally said, “you and I need to have a little talk.”

–NAMJOON–

You were home alone, so you decided to take a long, much deserved bath. Eyes closed, you sighed as you soaked in the steaming water. Then, you heard it. A loud bang and a crash from outside the door. Namjoon wasn’t supposed to be home until very late that night, which could only mean it was a break in.

Your eyes snapped open and you practically flew out of the tub, heart hammering in your chest as you thought of your options. You knew Namjoon kept a gun in every room. It was how you discovered his real occupation some time ago.

As quickly as you could, you removed the bathmat at the base of the tub and felt around for a loose tile. Sure enough, your search was fruitful. You grabbed the weapon and slowly backed away. You didn’t want to use it, or even threaten anyone with it, so you stayed put, hoping the intruder wouldn’t come into the washroom. No such luck. Soon enough, the knob jiggled for a moment before the door was pushed open. With shaky hands you put the gun up.

“D-don’t move! I’m not a-afraid to use this!”

“Shit, baby, what the fuck?

Namjoon stood before you, hands up in surrender and eyes wide with shock as he stared at you in utter disbelief. You could have cried at the sight of your boyfriend. Shaking, you lowered the weapon. Then, enraged, you lifted it again.

“You! You scared me half to death! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Namjoon gaped.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?”

“Excuse me?!”

“Why do you have a gun?!”

“You’re in the mob and you’re asking about your own gun?!”

You froze, realizing your mistake. Namjoon stared at you, wide eyed. Then, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he slouched in defeat, almost as if he’d been expecting this. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had.  

“Ok, before we have this conversation,” he said, voice exasperated, “could you please put the gun down? And maybe put some clothes on?”

You looked down at yourself and blushed, placing the gun back on the floor and running past him into the bedroom.

“If you like,” he said, voice amused and suggestive, “we could save the clothes and the conversation for later…”  

–YOONGI–

Yoongi was still sleeping when you decided to slip out of bed and make breakfast for the both of you. You were flipping pancakes in the kitchen when you heard the unmistakable sound of a knock on the door. You nearly jumped out of your skin, dropping one of the pancakes in the process. Cursing, you turned the stove off and marched to the door.

When you opened it, you were surprised to find two men you had never seen before standing in front of you.

You immediately stiffened, thinking about Yoongi’s job. Did they know him? Were these friends or enemies? Were they dangerous? Were you about to get kidnapped? You were so going to kill Yoongi if you got kidnapped because of him.

You fixed the two men with an unamused glare.

“May I help you?”

The men looked almost as surprised to see you as you were to see them. They shifted uncomfortably, looking at one another.

“Uh. Is Suga home?”

‘Suga’ was Yoongi, you knew. You also knew it was a name only his friends knew him by, if the papers you found in his office were anything to go by. Still, you didn’t trust these guys yet.

“Who are you?”

They looked at each other.

“Uh. I’m V and that’s Jimin. We’re—”

“His underlings. Yeah, I know.” You sighed, relieved when you recognized their names. “Sorry, but Suga’s—”

“Awake now.”

You jumped when you felt the heat of another body pressed against your back. Yoongi was standing there, still shirtless, using an arm to lean against the doorframe as he fixed the two visitors with a glare.

“Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.”

“But—”

Without saying another word, Yoongi grabbed the door and shut it in their faces. He sighed, still pressed right up against your back. You squirmed, trying to step away from him, but started when you felt both of his hands firmly grasp each of your arms. He pressed further into you, leaning in until you felt his breath on the back of your neck.

You shivered—out of fear or something else, you weren’t sure.

“How long,” he said, his low voice practically a whisper as he spoke into your ear, “have you known about this?”

–HOSEOK–

You and Hoseok were getting some shopping done when you passed by a department store, one of the very upscale and intimidating ones that you dared not enter by yourself. So, naturally, Hoseok decided to drag you inside.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, but obliged nonetheless. He was so happy, after all. While inside, you found yourself surprised as something caught your eye. It was a beautiful silver watch. You leaned over the glass case displaying it, admiring the piece. You had always wanted one of these high-end accessories, but you could never possibly afford it.

“Like what you see, babe?”

You jumped, having almost forgot you were there with your boyfriend. Smiling, you nodded, but shrugged it off with a small, disappointed sigh.

“Yeah, but when in a million years could I ever afford something like this?”

Hoseok blinked, staring at you for a moment in thought before he spoke again, smile ever-present.

“I’ll buy it for you.”

You raised your eyebrows. Of course, you knew Hoseok could afford this sort of thing. He was a mobster after all, and a pretty damn successful one, from what you gathered. But still, he didn’t need to know that you knew. So, you shook your head.

“If I can’t afford it, then you can’t either.”

“Yes, I can,” he replied, persistent.

“No, you can’t.” You glared at him. “I don’t want it that bad, Hoseok.”

“Sure you do.”

“No.”

“Babe it’s ok, I’ll buy—“

“If I want this watch,” you snapped, irritation taking over you, “then I want it with good, honest money. Not—“ you gasped, cutting yourself off once you realized what you said.

“Not what, babe?”

Everything around you seemed to stop—the bustling department store seemed empty, the lights seemed dimmer. All you could focus on was Hoseok, his eyes darkening while the smile remained on his face. You had a feeling you weren’t the first person to be on the receiving end of such a look. Your sweet, loving boyfriend was replaced with someone else.

He was terrifying.

Still smiling, Hoseok leaned forward until your faces were centimeters apart.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his sweet voice laced with venom, “is there something you’d like to tell me?”  

Angel in the Darkness (M) pt.9

Originally posted by aestheticvbts

Summary: After a patient urgently pleads you to go and help a friend of his, you naively agree to it. Little did you know, that you would get more than what you agreed to, when he leads you to a brothel, to help a dangerous prostitute named Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Jin, but not romantically)

Word count: 4.3k

Genre: Smut (M), angst, mafia!au, prostitution!au

A/N:This is a dark and filthy story! Graphic descriptions of sex (oral, penetration, etc), heavy dom/sub undertones, drug use, vulgar language use… This is a mature read! You have been warned!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9



“You lied to me!” the 15yr old Jungkook screeched in agony. He couldn’t stop the salty tears from streaming down his puffy face, as he looked at his older brother with pure hatred.

Jin, lifelessly looked at his youngest sibling and sighed in an annoyed tone, “What was I supposed to tell you?”

“The truth!” the doe eyed boy spat.

“It doesn’t work like that Jungkook, especially in this family.”

“Family?!” Jungkook laughed, sounding as if he had gone insane. “You think I’d call this a family?!”

At that, Jin closed his eyes in frustration – he knew that it was never easy for any of them to find out the truth, but Jungkook was by far taking it the worse. He recalled the others had shown great anger momentarily, but then they would get over it. Hell, even him himself hadn’t shown any emotions when his father told him the truth about his own mother. But maybe that was because Jungkook was different from the rest of them. He still… felt emotion, he still cared for others, and hadn’t become a cold-hearted machine that followed orders like the rest of them did.

Keep reading

Life Partner - Harry Styles

Breakdown: Harry ditches the “womanizer” label when he falls for an ordinary girl, and reflects on their relationship as he drives home from a concert, but is bombarded by paparazzi. 

Harry was once a hopeless romantic and firm believer in true love. Unfortunately, his rise to stardom stripped him from these beliefs and he lost all hope in ever finding someone to spend the remainder of his life with. Throughout the past few years, Harry has constantly been labeled as a “womanizer” by the media. Harry definitely agreed that his romantic partners changed frequently, but this was not due to being a womanizer. He finally realized that being a celebrity and having a serious relationship was an extremely challenging task, and to do so would require the right girl for him. Therefore, Harry acknowledged that while being an international artist, he would have to be content with short-term flings with women whom he knew would never be his life partner.

But that now seems like an entire lifetime ago for Harry. As Harry stares down at the beautiful woman sleeping beside him, he can’t stop himself from entering into a deep reflection. They have only been together for fourteen months, but Harry couldn’t bear the thought of not having her in his life.

Their paths crossed one brisk fall morning as Harry strolled the streets of Greater London. While trying to shield his identity, Harry toppled directly onto her, which caused her to plunge onto the rough ground. As a crowd took notice of the pop sensation, Harry bolted to take cover from the growing crowd. However, he did not flee without dragging her along with him so he could deliver a proper apology and ensure that she was not injured. But as the two waited for the crowd to disappear, they fell into a deep conversation which left Harry completely amazed in a way that he had never been before. As he stared into her twinkling eyes, he knew that she was not a girl that he could just walk away from.

Keep reading

We’re Just Friends

Originally posted by adrypopescu

Thanks so much to darellybieber for requesting this. I loved writing it! Remember to send me requests, comments, concerns, or even a little bit about you. I’d love to get to know all of you! Thanks for the love and support as always! xx - L

Harry invites Y/N to come on vacation with him and his family, and true feelings are revealed.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,784

Keep reading