Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.
She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove; A Maid whom there were none to praise, And very few to love:A violet by a mossy stone Half-hidden from the eye! —Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me!
If a person can laugh at himself for any foolishness, they have done. That person is a happy person who can always laugh with the world. The laughter can be infectious and then more will laugh along with them. The more the smiles are raised happier our lives will become and safer our world will be.
The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But the theory now goes That the apple’s a rose, And the pear is, and so’s The plum, I suppose. The dear only knows What will next prove a rose. You, of course, are a rose - But were always a rose.
I died for beauty, but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was lain In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed? “For beauty,” I replied. “And I for truth - the two are one; We brethren are,” he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a-night, We talked between the rooms, Until the moss had reached our lips, And covered up our names.
I took my Power in my Hand— And went against the World— ‘Twas not so much as David—had— But I—was twice as bold—
I aimed by Pebble—but Myself Was all the one that fell— Was it Goliath—was too large— Or was myself—too small?
If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.
A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth’s diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.
'Tis a strange mystery, the power of words! Life is in them, and death. A word can send The crimson colour hurrying to the cheek. Hurrying with many meanings; or can turn The current cold and deadly to the heart. Anger and fear are in them; grief and joy Are on their sound; yet slight, impalpable:– A word is but a breath of passing air.
Lo! in the painted oriel of the West, Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines, Like a fair lady at her casement, shines The evening star, the star of love and rest! And then anon she doth herself divest Of all her radiant garments, and reclines Behind the sombre screen of yonder pines, With slumber and soft dreams of love oppressed. O my beloved, my sweet Hesperus! My morning and my evening star of love! My best and gentlest lady! even thus, As that fair planet in the sky above, Dost thou retire unto thy rest at night, And from thy darkened window fades the light.
In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast On things around him with a ray Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream- that holy dream, While all the world were chiding, Hath cheered me as a lovely beam A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro’ storm and night, So trembled from afar- What could there be more purely bright In Truth’s day-star?
Summary: Selling preserves at the local farmers’ market has its distractions when your vendor booth is placed next to the one belonging to the young strawberry farmer who’s been sweet on you for years.
Pairing: Taehyung x Reader
Genre: Smut, Fluff
Word Count: 9,643
Warning: StrawberryFarmer!Taehyung, foodplay, sexual themes, profanity
Summary: Watching the man you love love someone else was the most painful feeling in the world.
Part Two: x
Part Three: xPart Four: xAlternate Ending: x
The rain fell just loud enough for you to hear, the skies a beautiful but somber grey and the world feeling otherwise silent. The birds weren’t chirping. The neighborhood seemed empty. It was just you. You and your empty apartment and your thoughts. The all consuming thoughts that made the silence seem so loud. His voice just kept replaying in your head, like the soundtrack to the otherwise quiet moment.
A sampling of some of the many, many universes in which Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki didn’t somehow manage to avoid each other for TEN+ YEARS and are already happily married (Inspired in part by the musings of @kiaronna and @pearlo on this topic from this post):
In 2010, Viktor is leaving an Olympic after party because it has just more or less dissolved into an orgy and that’s not Really his scene. In this universe, he decides not to go back to his room and instead finds his way to an outdoor seating area, which is not very heavily utilized given the fact that it’s February. There is only one other person out there–an athlete with his back turned, curled up onto a bench. The lettering on his jacket says Japan. “Mind if I join?” he asks, and the other man turns to reveal dark hair and the deepest eyes Viktor has ever seen. “Oh,” he squeaks. “No. Go ahead.” They sit, and talk, and three hours later exchange phone numbers. Instead of going to America to train, Yuuri Katsuki goes to Russia to train under Yakov Feltsman. He takes National gold in 2011 and marries Viktor in 2012.
Phichit accidentally posts a video of Yuuri doing a bit of Viktor’s 2013 free skate to Instagram, instead of the hamster video he meant to post. The video makes its way through the figure skating grapevine until, obviously, reaching Viktor. Viktor immediately DM’s Phichit, begging to know who the man in the video is. Yuuri wakes up to six missed calls, 609 Instagram notifications, 49 texts and a DM from Viktor Nikiforov. “I WAS ASLEEP FOR AN HOUR,” he shrieks. Phichit takes complete credit for their marriage in his speech at their wedding less than a year later.
Through the careful and judicious saving of money for several years, and because in at least one timeline the main waterline in the onsen and the transmission on the family car don’t go kaput in the same year, Yuuri’s family is able to send him to one of Yakov Feltsman’s ice skating boot camps when he is fourteen years old. Viktor is there, all shining hair and huge smile and new celebrity. He has just placed at the Turin Olympics and is on his way to becoming a Russian household name, and Yuuri has been in love with him for two years already. “Yuuri!” Viktor coos across the ice, over the heads of the fifteen other skaters in the bootcamp. “Keep your hips even! It won’t make it so hard to turn into your Axel!” “Yuuri! Don’t hunch your shoulders on the spread eagle!” “Yuuri! Your thigh should be parallel to the ice on that sitspin!” “He’s incredibly skilled for his age,” Lilia tells Yakov in the back of the rink one day. “And Vitya has been behaving remarkably well, since he came here.” She fixes her eyes on Yakov, deep and determined. “He’ll be old enough to make his senior debut next year. If we groom him through his last year of juniors, he could bronze in his first GPF, or better. I want him, Yasha.” Yakov Feltsman is not in the habit of denying his wife those few things she asks of him. Yuuri Katsuki returns home after that bootcamp to pack his things and collect his dog and hug his parents goodbye. “I’ll take good care of him, Mr. and Mrs. Katsuki,” Viktor assures from a Skype call. “He’ll be getting the best training in the world. I even have a poodle, so Vicchan won’t be lonely during the day!” Hiroko and Toshiya just smile knowingly. Yuuri Katsuki is newly fifteen when he moves to Russia and begins sharing a condo with Viktor Nikiforov. He is sixteen when he wins his first GPF silver, and eighteen when the Vancouver Olympics roll around and he stands below his best friend on the podium and accepts silver for Japan as Viktor accepts gold. He is nineteen when, after five years of glances and touches and shared secrets and tears and laughter, Viktor pulls him into bed. “About time,” is the general consensus to that. They have only been dating, dating-dating, for five months when Viktor asks him to marry him. “I know it’s quick,” Viktor says, “but I feel like–I feel like we’ve known each other all our lives, anywa, so what’s the point in waiting?” Yuuri, of course, feels the same way.
Viktor makes a split-second decision to touch up his make-up before a press conference at the Trophee de France 2011, and as he’s patting the sweat marks off his temples hears the definite sound of someone crying. “Um,” he announces to the otherwise silence bathroom. “Are you okay?” “Yeah!” comes the answer, shrill. “I’m totally fine!” “You don’t sound fine,” Viktor says, and ducks his head to see which stall has feet under it. In the last stall, he sees a pair of badly-abused sneakers. He straightens up and knocks on the door. “I’ll leave you alone if you want me to, but I can–if you want, I can show you a better place to cry. Than here.” It takes a moment, but the door opens. The man in front of him has watery eyes and puffy red cheeks and Viktor isn’t sure he has ever found someone so beautiful. “Okay,” he whispers, and Viktor leads him onto the roof where instead of crying, he stares out over the skyline and tells Viktor about his home town. Viktor never does discover why Yuuri was crying, but he does get his phone number–and he does visit his hometown with him, a year later, to tell Yuuri’s family that they’ve decided to get married.
Yuuri is somehow convinced by Phichit to go out with a group after Skate America in 2013–Phichit is in his element, leading people around the city with expansive gestures and the effortless social confidence Yuuri has come to know of his best friend. “You’re from this city too, aren’t you?” asks someone at Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri turns from Phichit’s monologue to see Viktor Nikiforov of all people. Yuuri, distantly in the back of his mind, realizes that he didn’t see Viktor before because he is wearing a hat, scarf, and enormous sunglasses. “Um, not from here,” Yuuri says, trying not to squeak, “but I–we both live here, Phichit and I.” “But you know the city,” Viktor says, “so that means you would know a place where I can get the most disgustingly greasy food imaginable and you and I can go there and my coach never needs to know?” “Yes,” Yuuri says immediately, because he may be timid around most people, and especially around his idol, but he has more than enough sense to realize that His Time Has Come. “I can absolutely do that.” Yuuri takes Viktor to American Coney Island, where they eat loose burgers and chili fries and drink diet coke, which is the only cession to their diets. “Oh Yuuri,” Viktor laughs at the end of the night, a speck of chili cheese still at the corner of his mouth, “I could fall in love with a man like you.” And he does.
Celestino wins a radio lottery and receives tickets to Champions on Ice in Las Vegas–he decides to take Yuuri and a rinkmate. Yuuri’s rinkmate is nice, but he doesn’t know her very well, and he’s several years younger. She also has friends in Nevada who she wants to meet up with, and Yuuri doesn’t know anybody in the state for obvious reasons. On the first day they are there, Yuuri’s rinkmate disappears with her friends and Celestino takes his wife and goes exploring on the strip. Yuuri stays in his room and plays Pokemon and Skypes his mother. On the second day, Yuuri goes shopping for souvenirs for Yuuko and his family, and stares far too long at the billboard of Viktor Nikiforov’s face that is advertising the ice show. That night, he debates which of the three posters he brought with him he should bring to have Viktor sign, before deciding on none–the odds that he will meet Viktor Nikiforov tonight are practically not any higher than they were when the were on opposite sides of the world, and Celestino won’t want to wait in the long autograph lines. “Don’t you want an autograph, Yuuri?” Celestino asks after the show, and Yuuri thinks it’s nice of him even though they both know that the polite thing to do is say no. “No,” Yuuri says, staring at the long line, and continues out of the building. They branch off then–Celestino has dinner plans with his wife, and Yuuri’s rinkmate is meeting back up with her friends for some clubbing. Yuuri is walking back to the hotel when he bumps headlong into somebody’s solid chest. “Oh, sorry,” they say, and steady him with hands on his shoulders. Yuuri looks up and finds the same icey blue eyes frm that billboard yesterday staring back at him. “Oh,” Yuuri whispers, wide-eyed. “You’re–” “Shhh,” whispers Viktor Nikiforov, pressing a finger to his own lips. “Don’t give it away, I’m hiding. “VITYA,” someone from the alley leading back towards the ice center screams. “Come on,” Viktor laughs, and tugs Yuuri away by the hand. It’s the spring before Viktor will cut his hair, and it flies out behind him in a magnificent cascade as they run. They find their way into a club, where Viktor buys them drinks and laughs and laughs no matter what Yuuri is saying, and then drags him out onto the dance floor. Yuuri has not yet met Phichit Chulanont, who will drag him to pole dancing classes and teach him how to move his hips like a weapon, but he and Viktor get by in the crush of bodies, pushing against each other. “I think I love you,” Viktor breaths against his neck, and they’re both three sheets to the wind, but Viktor is Russian and Yuuri is a college student and their tolerance is astronomical. They aren’t even stumbling. “I know we only just met, but I think I love you.” “Then let’s get married,” Yuuri blurts before he can help it, and Viktor beams. “Yes!” he cries. “Yes, let’s do that!” It isn’t hard to find a place that will marry them–even though Viktor’s signature on the certificate looks more like a drawing of a tree, and even though Yuuri’s tie ends up around his forehead halfway through the ceremony. In the morning, Yuuri wakes up with the worst hangover of his life, fully-clothed next to Viktor Nikiforov, and says, “We can–this happens all the time, we can have it annulled.” Viktor stares down at the ring on his finger, tangled hair all over one shoulder. Yuuri realizes that he doesn’t even rememer where the rings came from. How much did they cost? “I would rather not, if that’s okay,” Viktor murmurs, and so they don’t. Yuuri carries out the rest of the year in Detroit, wearing the ring around his neck on a chain and thinking about his husband, half a world away, waiting for him.
Synopsis: Imagine admitting
to Loki that you never manage to orgasm when are with men, making him smirk
mischievously in response.
“Is that a
challenge, my dear?”
So for the
next couple of hours, he magically locks the two of you in your room and makes
it a challenge as to how many times he can make you cum in a row. He pleasures
you with his soft hands, his skilled and long fingers and his silver tongue before
he fucks you roughly.
Pairing: Loki x Reader Rating: M Chapter: 1/1 (Oneshot) Words: 4040 Warnings: smut. a lot of smut.
This is sorta lame and cheesy, but it’s basically just a fluffy Imagine about Tom being a cute boyfriend and taking care of his drunk girlfriend💗
Author’s Note: This is a oneshot inspired by sorta me? My mom had a party and made a ton of mixed drinks, and because I’m a dumb baby that never drinks, I forgot that vodka literally punches you in a face when you drink too much of it? Anyways, I got drunk and ended up crying to one of my cousins for about 40 minutes about all the reasons why I love Tom? Apparently, I’m even more cheesy and sentimental drunk than I am sober, who knew lol?
She giggled to herself, ankles knocking into each other as she braced herself on the door of her apartment. She was absolutely, completely, and undeniably smashed. Truly, she couldn’t even remember how she’d gotten this way, but then again, she could barely recall her uber ride home.
Her hands kept shaking and she couldn’t find the correct key to fit itself into the doorknob. At this rate, she’d be out all night.
Tom paused the film he was watching and glanced back towards the front door. He was pretty sure that he could hear someone out there, but it was probably just their neighbor’s being noisy. Allowing the film to regain his full attention, he did his best to ignore the strange sounds outside, until he heard something that replicated her giggle.
His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She was supposed to be at a sleepover with her best friends, not coming home at one in the morning? Tom got up and made his way over to the window by the door. Peeking out, he saw that the giggle outside indeed belonged to her, and she appeared to be struggling hugely with the task of opening the door.
Quickly crossing to help her inside, Tom yanked open the door and barely had time to catch her as she crashed in on top of him.
“Tom!” She yelped excitedly, making no effort to move off of him, instead cuddling further into him, while he laid sprawled across the floor with her lying on his chest. “Do you wanna hear a joke? It’s so dirty and I know how you love dirty things!” She explained innocently, her eyelashes tickling his neck.
Tom chuckled, “Darling, come on up here. We’ve gotta close the door.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you!” She leaned over him, “What did Cinderella do when she got to the ball?”
“You’re absolutely wrecked.” Tom laughed, taking in her mussed up appearance. She still looked good, how could she not? Her skirt was just shorter, her breasts were more exposed than she’d be comfortable with sober, and her eyemakeup was slightly smudged. Her hair tumbled down her back in messy waves and she teetered on her high heels.
If she had come home sober, Tom would’ve dragged her off to bed with him, but alas, she was drunk and needed to be taken care of.
“She gagged!” His girlfriend giggled, finishing up the butt of her joke. “Do you get it?”
Tom burst out laughing and cradled the back of her head as he rolled her onto her side so that he could get up to lock the door. “Yes, baby, I do. Where’d you hear that one?”
She didn’t even seem to have registered what he asked her because, in response, she said, “I don’t think I’d be Cinderella if I was a disney princess. She gags, but not me. I don’t gag, unless you make me.”
“Oh my gosh, you’re going to be so embarrassed in the morning.” Tom said, slipping his hands beneath her arms to pick her up. Helping her down the hallway to their bedroom, he asked, “Darling, how come you’re not with your friends right now?”
She blinked her eyes slowly and licked her lips. “We were all talking, and drinking. So, so, so much drinking. Did you know that vodka is strong? Like, it’s so strong, because, I’m not sure if you can tell, but,” She leaned closer to his chest and pressed herself up onto her tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “I’m kinda drunk right now.”
Turning his head towards her, he decided to play along, “Are you serious? I’d had no clue.”
“Well, yes! Anywho,” She dragged out the last letter of anywho before she tripped over herself again.
Tom caught her and slipped a firmer hand around her waist. “Anywho?” He pressed.
“We were all talking about our boyfriends, and how much we love them, because, I love you so much. And then, we started talking about the stuff we do with our boyfriends.” She paused in the hallway to poke Tom’s chest, “That’s my favorite shirt on you.”
“Darling, I’m not wearing a shirt?” Tom said, cocking his head to the side.
“I know,” She smiled, “That’s why it’s my favorite.” She gestured to Tom’s exposed midriff, “This is all great. Like, you look so good. The best.”
Tom dissolved into laughter and shook his head, “My silly, drunk girl. What are we going to do with you?”
“Well, you see, what I’d like you to do with me is make-out. That’s really why I came home. We started talking about some things,” She cupped her hand around Tom’s ear and whispered, “Sexy time things. And we all agreed that I should come home to you so that we could do the sexy time things. Because, I wanna do them, with you.”
Finally crossing the threshold of their bedroom, Tom placed her gently onto the bed and tried to ignore her last statement. Yes, she was his girlfriend. Yes, she’d just told him that she wanted him, and yes, he obviously wanted her too. But, she was drunk, much too drunk to consent to sex with him.
Tonight, Tom would be a good boyfriend and take care of her, but, in the morning, Tom would be a good boyfriend and he’d give her at least 2 orgasms with 2 advil pills to chase away her headache before breakfast.
“Sweet girl, we can’t right now. You’ve been drinking too much, you’re absolutely wasted.” Tom tried to reason with her.
“No, no I’m not. If I was drunk, could I do this?” She took a deep breath, “‘May I feel said he/ (I’ll squeal said she/ just once said he) It’s fun said she/ (May I touch said he/ How much said she/ A lot said he) Why not said she.”
Tom cut her off, “Sweetheart, nothing you say matters right now, you’re too drunk. Now just let me help you out of that dress.” Shaking his head, Tom laughed as he walked over to her with an oversized sweatshirt of his in his hand. Only she would be able to quote E.E. Cummings completely inebriated.
Kneeling in front of her, Tom lifted one of her feet onto his lap to unbuckled her high heeled shoe. Undoing the clasp and carefully removing the heel, he pressed a tender kiss to the top of her foot.
“You know, I like it a lot better when you’re on your knees for a different reason.” She pouted, sitting up to watch him.
Tom chuckled again as he began to remove her other shoe, “Trust me darling, so do I. Roll over-” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence when she interjected.
“Are you gonna spank me?” She asked, rolling over. Her tiny dress had ridden up even more and Tom had to bite down on his lower lip and clasp his hands together to prevent himself from doing just that.
“You’re making this really difficult.” Tom muttered.
“Then do something about it. I thought bad girls got spankings?” She teased him, eyeing the hardness growing within his pajama bottoms.
“Stop it, I’m trying to take care of you and you’re making it really hard.” Tom groaned.
“I can tell,” She giggled.
“For fucks sake,” Tom rolled his eyes, “I’m going to help you out of the dress, and that’s all the touching I’m going to do tonight. Then, I’m going to take off your makeup, and you’re going to go to sleep.”
“Tom,” She whined, wriggling around on the bed, “I don’t wanna. I want you to do me.”
Tom laughed, “You’re going to die in the morning, oh my gosh. You’re such a child.”
“Ugh!” She whined and flattened out onto the mattress.
Sitting down behind her on the bed, Tom rolled her over and unzipped the back of her dress. He did his best to not look, but the zipper kept getting caught in her hair, and he couldn’t ignore the soft skin of her back. He saw that she’d chosen to wear the pretty, light pink, lace bra that she’d been wearing the first time they’d had sex. Groaning over the memories, he helped her rid her body of the confining fabric of her dress and had slid his sweatshirt over her body.
She turned to lay on her back, “Will you at least kiss me?”
“Yes,” Tom placed a soft kiss on her mouth, “Do you wanna get up to go to the bathroom to take off your makeup, or do you want me to do it for you here?”
“Hmmm, here.” She sat up and stuck her hands inside of the sweatshirt, only to toss her bra off seconds later.
Tom’s eye lingered on her chest as he got up to retrieve her makeup wipes.
“I love youuuuu.” She said, hugging herself to his chest after Tom had successfully cleansed her face of all traces of makeup. “You’re my favorite, even though you refuse to fuck me.”
Tom tucked the duvet under her chin and crawled in behind her. He kissed her temple and curled an arm around her, “I love you too darling.”
He prayed to the high heavens above that she wouldn’t feel his excitement poking her in the back while she drifted off and into dreamland.
“Bobby, you can’t keep doing that to him.” Bob raises his eyebrows, putting down his fork. “Doing what, Alicia? Corralling our son into talking about his crush?” “Exactly.”
Or, A fic about Bob and Alicia noticing Jack’s feelings for Bitty before even he does.
Bob Zimmermann is kind of messy, only a bit of a smart ass, and just a tad hard of hearing. Yet even without perfect hearing Bob can’t miss the affection in his son’s voice when talking about a certain line-mate.
Bob Zimmermann is many things, but he is no idiot.
“Did you get that paper done for your…what was it again- american pie class?”
Bob looks over his shoulder just in time to see Alicia send an appraising look from the couch. He catches a hint of a smile.
He winks back and she rolls her eyes in return.
Bob turns again to the large window, the white light blinding him for a moment. The large expanse of grass is still littered with snow, lining the way down to their lake. A blank sky hugs the horizon.
“Women, food, and American culture, Papa.”
“Right. So how’d you do on the paper? Did Eric help you out?”
hi! i was wondering if you could write something about a peter x fem!reader where she’s homeschooled and doesn’t have friends and then she meets peter and they become close ? thanks!!
a/n - i changed the request up a bit, and made the reader tony’s daughter to give it an even more ‘fluffy’ feel to it and i think it failed horribly BUT thank you so much for 1k!!! i can’t even believe all the love i’m getting for these fics, it makes me so happy to know you guys like them :) don’t forget to request a peter parker/spider-man fic if you’d like and follow!
I sat at the dining table just across from the living room, headphones in as I watched a math lesson that was just uploaded onto my school’s website. It was just around 10 AM when my school day started, a bowl of freshly cut fruits on the table as I took notes in my small book, sometimes glancing around to see if something more entertaining was going on.
Being the kid of a billionaire had it’s perks, but some downsides to it as well. Sure, I was able to access anything through money, but I was stuck at home a good 99% of my life, hidden away from the public eye at the request of my father. I’ve never been able to go to school and have a ‘normal’ life, with my only friends being the middle aged people the world calls the Avengers.
I paused the lesson and took my headphones out, heading out to the kitchen counter to pour a cup of coffee for myself, only to hear the door opening.
Description: Jimin is your best friend’s roommate, and to say you get on each other’s nerves would be an understatement. Jimin decides it is his mission to teach you some ‘manners’.
This fic includes: Explicit smut, ‘good girl’ term, dominance games, hate love type dynamic, light spanking, ‘teaching of manners’ lmfaoo
Pairing: Jimin x You (ft Yoongi and Taehyung)
Word count: 4.5k
You lazily played a game on Yoongi’s phone, your eyes peering up every now and then to look at the TV screen, displaying a movie utterly boring to you. You let out an unintentional sigh; you were considering getting up to scour for food.
“Why are you here if you’re so bored?” Jimin asked from the other side of Yoongi, whose lap your head lay upon. You sat up to match Jimin’s glare.
“Jimin.” You heard Yoongi scold under his breath. Deciding not to waste your energy, you ignored Jimin and got up to search through their fridge. Yoongi thought you couldn’t hear him once you were in the kitchen, and you barely could, but his low and deep voice rung through the practically silent dorm “I’m so sick of you being such a dick to Y/N. Go say sorry.”
“What?” Jimin laughed. “I’m not a child.”
“Jimin.” Yoongi’s voice was so stern you got goose bumps.
“Whatever.” Jimin mumbled, his light footsteps approaching the kitchen. You quickly stuffed your head in the fridge, acting like you were very busy. When you looked up, closing the fridge door with a muffin in your hand, Jimin is leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and a subtle frown on his face.
“I’m glad you’re making yourself at home.” Jimin says, his eyes pointing at the treat in your hands. You smile tauntingly, not breaking eye contact as you take an excessively big bite.
“Thanks.” You mumble through your full mouth.
“Gosh, did no one ever teach you manners?” He asks with a serious expression.
Niall opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it. You rolled your eyes as you stared at him from across the kitchen counter. Niall furrowed his eyebrows as he placed his hand on his chin. He shook his head and leaned against the counter. “Alright. Tell me again exactly what she said.”
You let out a sigh as you leaned your hands against the counter. “She basically told me to fuck off, Niall.” Niall shook his head and sat down on one of the bar stools. “I just can’t believe Kimberly would say something like that to you.” You sighed as you sat on the seat next to his. You leaned your head against your arm. “I can’t believe it either.”
“So did you tell Harry?” Niall asked. You shook your head, “No. And I’m not planning on telling him either. I can’t tell him that he married-”
“The wicked bitch of London?” Niall interrupted, lips quirking up in a smile. You let out a chuckle as you gently punched him in the arm. “I’m serious, Niall. It’ll break his heart knowing Kimberly’s capable of saying something like that to someone. Promise me you won’t tell him?” Niall shrugged his shoulders as he got up to grab something from the fridge. “I guess, Y/N. But he’ll find out eventually. What’s he gonna think when his best friend suddenly stops talking to him?”
You groaned as you placed your head on the counter. “It’s not like I was going to do anything to hurt the marriage. I respect Harry too much to ever jeopardize it. But now I feel like I did overstep my boundaries, that’s why Kimberly wants me out of the picture.”
Niall turned around from looking in the fridge, a bottle of water in his hands. “You did nothing wrong, Y/N. You’re Harry’s best friend. Just because he’s married, that’s never going to change. Kimberly’s just insecure that her marriage is in the runs.”
You rubbed your face with your hands, clearly exhausted of the situation. “Out of all the people I could’ve fell in love with, why Harry?” You let out a laugh at how ironic your life was. “I just had to be the stereotypical girl who falls in love with her best friend.”
Niall smiled, sitting back down next to you as he placed his arm around you. “Harry’s just a great guy. Every girl is bound to fall in love with him. At least you have the privilege of being his best friend?” Niall tried assuring you, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You leaned your head against Niall’s shoulder and puffed out your cheeks, “I hate my life.”
With yet another promise from Niall that things were going to work out in the end for you, Niall left your apartment. You were sitting on your bed, scrolling through your Facebook feed. You sighed as you saw another post from Harry’s honeymoon. You leaned your head against the bed frame as you clicked on Harry’s name. You started looking through his most recent pictures. A lot of the photos were either from his honeymoon or his wedding. You tried not to wince as you would stumble upon pictures of him and Kimberly kissing. You were basically looking at Harry’s timeline in his photos. There were pictures from when he proposed to Kimberly, pictures of them at a Coldplay concert, pictures of them eating crazy looking food, pictures of them on the bed snuggling. Just pictures of them.
You laughed as you landed on the next picture, your hand covering your mouth.
You smiled at Harry as he placed a small cake in front of you. He sat down in front of you, a smile so wide, you were afraid his dimples would somehow burst. “This is my first time trying out this cake recipe, love, so bare with me if it’s not good.” Harry said as he began lighting candles on the cake.
You shook your head, a smile still on your face. “It looks absolutely amazing, H.” Harry looked over at you and smiled. He looked at the clock on the wall and noticed the time. “And now, it’s officially your birthday.”
Since you and Harry were twelve, he’s always made sure to be the first to tell you Happy Birthday. As your best friend, it was his sole purpose to do so. Every year, Harry would make you a cake, from scratch, and would sing you happy birthday. You guys would eat cake in your pajamas while watching Sixteen Candles and eat even more cake for breakfast in the morning. It was a perfect tradition you’d hope would never end.
Your eyes glanced over to the caption. On this day, my beautiful best friend came into this world. I will always remain thankful for this day. I will always love you.
You bit your bottom lip, rereading the caption what felt like a million times. You couldn’t help but wonder how your birthday will be this year. It was only in a couple of weeks. Would Harry still come over? Should he even come over? With everything Kimberly said, is it right for him to come over? You grabbed one of the pillows placed on your bed and screamed into it. With your head still in the pillow, your laptop began to ring. You looked over to see your mom was trying to FaceTime you. “Just what I needed” you mumbled. You plastered on the most phony smile to exist. “Hey mom.”
Your mom smiled, “Oh, honey! How lovely it is to see you!” You shook your head, letting out a giggle. “I saw you at the wedding, mom.” Your mom shook her head, a look of concern appearing on her face. “How are you doing, sweetie?” Besides Niall, your mom was the only one that knew of your feelings for Harry. How could she not? She was your mother. Your mom would always tell her friends that she knew you and Harry would be married someday. She loved your friendship and she loved how Harry respected you. It’s what every parent dreams for their child. When she got the invitation to his wedding, she was absolutely shattered for her daughter. She immediately called you only to be met with you sobbing on the other side of the line.
You shrugged your shoulders, pushing your hair behind your ears. “I’m fine.” Your mom shook her head. “You’re not. And it’s okay if you aren’t.”
You sighed as you stared at the computer screen. “It’s over, mom. He’s married. I can’t do anything but be supportive for him.” Your mom pursed her lips, nodding her head. “Well, Y/N. The reason why I called was because I want you to go out-”
You groaned, interrupting her. “Mom. Please. The last thing I want to do is go on a date.” Your mom let out a sigh.
“Y/N. Harry’s married.” You shook your head slowly as your eyes shifted away from the screen. Your mother continued, “And from looking at how happy he was at the wedding and listening to his vows…Y/N, he’s going to be married for a long time.” You sniffed, trying not to tear up in front of your mom.
Your mom looked down at her hand, looking at her wedding ring. “Every mother wants that for her child. They want to see them in love. They want to see their wedding. I want that for you, Y/N. As your mother, I can’t stand back and watch you hurting.”
You looked back at the computer screen, a tear falling down. “Let yourself be happy.” Your mom whispered on the other side. Your head shot down in defeat. She was right. A moment of silence passed before you whispered, “Alright.”
Lucas was…nice. He did everything you were supposed to do on a first date. He asked about your family, he asked about your job, he asked about your hobbies. He pulled out your chair for you at dinner, he held open the door for you, he paid for dinner. Lucas was a proper gentleman. You couldn’t help but think you needed someone like Lucas. As harsh as it sounds, Lucas was your distraction from Harry.
“Well this is me.” You said as you nodded towards your apartment building. Lucas nodded as he followed your gaze. “Is it alright if I walk you towards your door?”
You smiled, nodding your head. As you and Lucas were walking towards your door, you let out a laugh as Lucas was telling you about accidentally walking into his brother “handling” his business in his room.
Your laughter halted as you saw Harry standing in front of your door. He was staring between you and Lucas with his arms crossed. “Harry? What are you doing here?” Harry stared at Luke before he turned to look at you. “Can I talk to you?”
Lucas cleared his throat, catching on the tension. “I should probably get going, Y/N. I had a really great time.” You turned to look at Lucas and gave him a small smile, nodding. “I did, too.” You leaned over and gave him a hug. As Lucas returned the hug, you couldn’t help but feel Harry throwing daggers at you. Lucas cleared his throat once more as he nodded towards Harry and walked back towards the elevators.
As soon as you opened your apartment door, Harry was quick to ask, “Who was that?” You ignored his question, taking your heels off. “What did you need to talk about, Harry?”
Harry cleared his throat, crossing his arms once again. “Were you on a date?” You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Yes. Ok, yes, Harry. I was on a date.”
Harry let out a scoff. “That explains why you wouldn’t answer my texts.” You rolled your eyes as you began pouring yourself a glass of wine. “Well I’m sorry my life doesn’t revolve around you.”
Harry closed his mouth, a slight pang of hurt on his face. He shook his head. “I just wanted to tell you that me and Kimberly got into our first fight today. I really needed you, Y/N.” You stared into the wine glass, your mind zoning off as Harry went on about the fight.
“I just need you to tell me what to do.” Harry said. You quickly came back to your senses. “I’m sorry, H. I got none of that.” Harry let out a sigh. He was already frustrated enough with Kimberly and being ignored by you wasn’t making it any better. “Damn it, Y/N. Stop thinking about that guy and pay attention to me.”
This time it was your turn to let out a scowl. “I’m sorry Harry that I wasn’t listening to you go on about your wife. Why would I want to hear your problems in your marriage when I’m having problems myself?”
Harry threw his arms out, “You’re supposed to be my best friend! You’re supposed to be listening to my problems and help!”
“My life doesn’t revolve around you, Harry!”
Harry looked away from you, shaking his head. He realized he was being needy but you’ve never had a problem with it before. You were always happy to help him whenever you could. He couldn’t help but think it was because you had a potential guy in your future. He doesn’t know who that guy was, how many dates you guys have been on, or how much you liked him. What he did know was you didn’t look right with that guy.
Harry placed his hand on the door knob before he looked at you. “You’re right. I’m sorry I ruined your night.”
“Wait, H-” You closed your eyes as the door shut. You wrapped your arms around yourself, hating that you were so harsh to Harry. You were about to run after him but you couldn’t help but thinking about what Kimberly said. You knew you shouldn’t let her words get into her head. Why is she just now having a problem with your friendship with Harry when they’ve been together for two years now? You let out a sigh as you sat on your kitchen barstool. You couldn’t help but think about what it would be like from Kimberly’s shoes. You would be insecure as well if your husband had a best friend that has feelings for him. But you weren’t the type of person to jeopardize a marriage, why couldn’t she see that? You leaned your head against your hand. You didn’t know what to do anymore.
When Harry stepped into the elevator, his eyes were staring at your door, expecting you to run after him. When your door made no movement of opening, Harry looked down at the floor as the elevator doors closed.
thank you guys so much for all the feedback married is getting so far! i love that you guys are liking it! i love hearing from you guys! let me know what you guys thought/ want to see what happens next!
Characters: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader / Friend!Reader, Bobby, John
Length: 1663+ words
TW: Suicide. Depression. Abandonment. Dean being a jerk.
A/N: Another word vomit that I did when I couldn’t sleep last week. I just had the idea in my head for the whole night, and I knew if I didn’t write it down, I wouldn’t be able to remember it the next morning. So, here it is! Feedback is encouraged!
The thing about the Winchester family was that they collect family like one would collect dolls. They have a lot of family around the State, any of them willing to do anything for the brothers. They always had a saying.
Family doesn’t end in blood.
Except it does. They can say it as many times as they want, but there isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for the family. Their blood family.
You were 4 when you were collected by John, and shipped off to Bobby’s. You were basically raised alongside the brothers from then on. Sam being a year older than you, and his brother, Dean, being 5 years older than you.
You were 5 when Dean ran out of breakfast. Bobby, and John were gone on a hunt, leaving 10 year-old Dean in charge. There was half a single granola bar left, and he looked uneasily between you and Sam, both of you had complained about being hungry. He gave you a strange look, and even though you were 5, you knew what it meant. Afterall, John gave you the same look when he told you why you can’t come home to your parents. It was also the same look that Bobby gave you when you asked about your parents. The look of guilt. You turned away, not being able to handle the fact that his decision had already been made when he was 4, and the responsibility of Sam’s livelihood was thrusted into his hands.
“Not hungry,” you mumbled, despite your roaring stomach. Sam’s eyes lit up with glee as he snatched the snack from his brother’s hand, and you can see Dean’s face visibly relax.
“Sammy’s my responsibility. You understand, right?” Dean asked, a hopeful smile on his face.
You gave him a nod, hopping off the chair, and went back to your bed, hoping you can sleep away the hunger.
Check out the inspiration behind Harry’s home here!
As always, this miniseries is dedicated to @stylesunchained. Thank you for your screaming for no spoilers, my love. It wouldn’t be proper of me to not thank @chrissy22787 and @permanentcross for their continued support and also continued screaming over this story. Where would I be without you three?!
Let me know what you think! Happy reading.
After secluding himself for the better part of two days, Harry decided it was best to consult someone about his next move, if there was one at all. Nick was the only plausible option, as he was the one who introduced you to Harry, and he’d known you longer than Harry had. Much longer. He’d told Harry that he considered you to be one of his best friends, which shocked him a bit, considering Nick didn’t mention you all that much. But, plenty of time had passed since Harry was in London for an extended period. Nick was a magnet for friends, and he was allowed to make more without Harry around…
A/N: This might be complete crap, but I desperately needed to write some Quill. I hammered this out earlier this morning and just did a quick edit, no rewriting. But hopefully it’s post worthy! I think a second part is in order? xD
The sound of bickering voices drifted back from the cockpit, making me roll my eyes. I lowered the manuscript I was flipping through.
“Will you two morons cut it out already?” I hollered. I waited a beat, but the arguing went on. Probably hadn’t even heard me. Anyways, it wasn’t my job to break up the idiotic pissing contest that went on between Rocket and anyone he met. Or at the moment, Drax.
SUMMARY:After a run in with one of Johnny’s fellow frat brothers, you had thought he had just been after one thing. But when, not only Johnny himself, but with the help of your friends, they helped you realize that you had made some very misguided judgments. //“What tastes better than it smells?”
GENRE/WARNINGS:Fraternity/College!AU // It’s honestly mostly fluff with smut thrown in at the end. This is part of a collab with @versigny and a bunch of other writers. You can read the prologue here.
Y/N waits anxiously for her date to come. Blind date is never her thing until her colleague said it’s about time she stops being too attached to her work and starts going out there. Nervously she texts her friend about her date’s whereabouts. Getting stood up doesn’t seem to be an option for her since she was basically forced to attend this blind date. All she wants is for this date to be smooth so she can go back home and watch The Bachelorette reruns.
It’s already an hour after their supposed meeting time and her date shows no sign of coming. Disappointed, she lets out a heavy sigh and cues the waiter to hand her the menu. She might not have a good date but at least she’d have some good meal.
“A table for one, then, Miss?” the waiter asks, trying to hide his sympathy.
“Seems so,” she mumbles lightly, “What if he walked in, saw me, and left? Oh, God… I’m gonna kill Mary.”
Not knowing what to answer, the waiter proceeds to wrap the fancy dining utensils which her date should be using by now. The sound of the plates clanking against each other had several people looking at her way with pitiful expressions and she just wants to bury herself. She leans in her chair to avoid the gazes and angrily texts her friend. She must’ve been so caught up in the state of her inner wrath that she doesn’t realize a tap on her shoulder.
“Yeah, sorry, yeah?” she still looks at her phone, not really paying attention to the person who is talking to her.
“You seem very… distraught. Mind if I sit here?”
She goes silent for a while, trying to put together the new scene in front of her. There, stands the Harry Styles in an undeniably attractive fashion choice. His hair is styled with a little quiff and the look is final with a friendly smile upon his face.
Harry snorts seeing her genuine reaction, “Mind if I sit by the empty seat?”
She shakes her head, confusion still written on her face as Harry sits and motions the waiter to pour him some wine.
“What’re you looking at?” he asks since she has been staring at him the whole time.
She blinks away her own disbelief and opens her mouth slowly — almost a whisper that if he doesn’t come closer he won’t be able to hear her, “Aren’t you Harry Styles?”
“Yes, I am,” he answers in a whisper as well.
“You’re not my blind date, are you?”
“No, ‘m not,” he chuckles. By now, they’re only inches apart since they’re whispering and each tries to get what the other is saying in such a crowded place.
Harry continues, “Why are we whispering?”
She leans back, still puzzled of the sight in front of her. She’s supposed to have a date with a close friend of her colleague’s who’s described as pretty much nothing like the man sitting on his supposed place.
Harry giggles, “I sat behind you. You were anxious for the past hour, tossing and turning ‘round like a little whirligig.”
She blushes. It’s her thing. She’s not a very serious person, she’s just very much bubbly and impulsive and all that. She easily laughs at the lamest jokes, she gets panic over the silliest little things, she’s just very in the moment. That’s understandable how Harry finds her funny and interesting enough to get him turn around and talk to her. He doesn’t find this kind of personality often around him and he’d love to get to know people who are downright spontaneous in a world full of plans and agendas.
“Are you alone? Here, I mean,” she raises an eyebrow.
“Let’s just say we had the same unfortunate event tonight,” he winks.
“No fucking way!” she closes her mouth with her hands, “How can the Harry Styles got stood up?”
To this outspoken question, he bursts into laughter. He’s accustomed to people being awed by his presence but he never sees such honesty. He always has people far up his ass, saying things to his liking. This situation, for instance: if he were to be talking to one of the said people, they would definitely backbite the girl who stood him up. But this girl doesn’t care about Harry Styles, she looks like she’s just really excited to hear a story from her old friend, Harry.
“Do you think she walked in, saw me, and left?” he mimicked her low question earlier.
She pouts. He chuckles. He’s been chuckling a whole lot more in the past hour than he usually does in a week.
“I love your music, by the way.”
His eyes light up and do the talking for him: really?
“Yeah, love it. Sorta reminds me of the good music, you know the golden era of rock and roll,” she runs her on the tablecloth pattern, “Not saying that nowadays’ music isn’t good or anything. It’s just… yours seem very truthful and different — a good different, of course. Oh, God… I’m sorry I have a tendency to ramble on.”
“Don’t apologize. I find it soothing.”
“You talking,” he straightens up himself.
“You’re so full of it,” she laughs outright.
They talk about music for almost an hour, how she thinks one of his tracks reminds her of Electric Light Orchestra and how he voluntarily spills his classified personal approach towards that album. She says she likes bands from the 70s and his album brings back the vibes back that she thinks had long left the music industry and he can’t help but feel appreciated in the sincerest way possible. He tells her how they produced the album in Jamaica and how he wanted to put so much of himself in the album. She admits how she listens to his album in the midst of working, shower, jogging, sometimes even when she just feels like dancing by herself in her room.
And he can’t stop smiling, can’t stop beaming, can’t stop enjoying the sight of a person who just gets him. It feels like she presses a click inside him.
“I really hope you get to make more music,” she speaks lightly as she chews her meal.
“You know…” he puts down his fork, “Since we seem to have the same taste in music, I have exclusive access to a Roger Waters’ gig this weekend.”
Her eyes widen as he goes on, “Would you like to come? I can pick you up.”
“Harry— I don’t think I can take advantage of you like that.”
Harry melts upon her confession. Any person with that offer usually takes it in a blink of an eye but here she is, rejecting a grand opportunity because she doesn’t want him to feel used.
“You’re not taking any advantage out of me.”
“If you let me pay you back then I’m definitely in,” she smiles.
He frowns, “Now that’s not how my mum raised me as a man taking a woman to a date.”
She’s taken aback by his word choice but before she could answer, a girl approaches Harry.
“Harry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was you,” she grabs him by his arm. Being a gentleman he is, he immediately stands up.
“You are…?” he asks. His eyes go back and forth from the girl to Y/N, as if saying he doesn’t know what the hell is going on.
“I’m Emily. Nick set us up?” the girl seems confused after seeing Y/N and tries to remind Harry of his supposed blind date.
“Emily, yeah, right…” his voice trails slowly as he looks over Y/N who seems somewhat out of place.
There is a clear muzziness written on Emily’s face. Y/N can tell Harry is a courteous man who can never be rude to anyone, hence she completely understands that he’s in a dilemma as in how to send her off and that the seat is no longer hers. So, she does what she thinks is right.
“Well, it turns out we don’t have the same unfortunate event tonight,” an ingenuous smile spreads across her cheeks, “I had just finished. Have a great night you two.”
She mutters a goodbye and thank you to Harry and finds her way to exit the restaurant. She doesn’t feel any remorse whatsoever. If anything, she feels lucky enough to have a heartfelt talk with someone as wonderful as Harry.
Although, she can’t help but wonder if he actually means the last word he said. They don’t even have each other’s phone number so that date can’t ever occur. She won’t lie that she feels a little disappointed but then again, they’re not supposed to be having dinner together in the first place.
So she casually walks down the street. A disbelief giggle leaves her mouth. She still can’t believe she actually just had dinner with one of the people from her iPod.
She decides to put an earphone and hums to a song as she reaches the crossroad.
“There was love all around, but I never heard it singing,” she almost jumps when someone no other than the Harry Styles himself singing the song she’s listening to right beside her in a crowded crossroad. Apparently, her hums are not that soft that he can sing along.
She’s surprised but can’t hide her excitement to see him by her side.
“No, I never heard it at all till there was you,” he ends with a smile.
She grabs off her earphone, “Thought you had a date back there?”
“I did,” he puts his hands into his coat pockets, “Had to get her back home safely now, didn’t I?“
She just grins, unsure of what is happening. She just keeps pinching herself hoping this isn’t one of her unrealistic dreams.
“You didn’t realize I was right behind you the whole time, eh?”
“I was just… thinking,” she reasons as she feels her cheeks turn fire red.
“About our date this weekend?” a cheeky smile appears on his pretty face and to that she just rolls her eyes.
His hand finds his way to embrace the side of her body and she leans into his broad chest as she hands him one tip of her earphone, the other tip being in her ear and they just keep humming on the way home, enjoying each other’s company and the unfortunate event they had tonight.