the dangers of not being completely broke

BTS when they slap you: Jimin version

Ayyyy what’s rolling bishesss 

I’m back with the ‘Slap’ series, and this time it is Chim-chim :)) which means that now only Hosoek and Taehyung are left. 

For Hyung line(without hoseok) click here 

For Jungkook version click here 


You both had been out on a date when you got into a fight and you had said some nasty things but so had he. Not to mention, you had a good reason to be angry.  

You got out of the car before it even fully stopped and and slammed the door shut, making Jimin grip the steering wheel tightly, in efforts to control his anger. He couldn’t though. He stepped out of the car as well and ran after you and closes the door behind him once he enters his apartment. 

“What is your problem?!” He yelled at you, clearly angry with the way you were behaving. You turned around sharply, with an incredulous look in your eyes. 

“What is my problem? Are you seriously fucking asking me that, Jimin? We were out on a date after god knows how many months and you got your ‘rumoured’ girlfriend along?! What the fuck is wrong with me?! No, Park Jimin, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yelled back. 

Jimin took a step closer to you, eyes red due to his efforts to keep his anger from taking a form which he might regret. “What the fuck, y/n? You know there’s nothing going on between us! She wasn’t feeling too good, and she wanted me to be there for her. You already know how hard things are for her right now, her career’s taken a hit after the news of the scandal broke out. She is not feeling okay and-” 

“What about me?” You asked him with pure disbelief written on your face. “Did you think about how I felt when my man was being linked to some other woman? Or is she the only person you’re concerned about?” 

Jimin let out a frustrated sigh, he was dangerously close to losing his temper. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous y/n. What you’re going through is completely different from what she is going through. You don’t know shit about our business, you wouldn’t understand. How can you be such an insensitive….bitch? You just walked out of the restaurant while we were having dinner. She must be feeling so awkward. Is this the way you should fucking behave?” 

The only thing you could see was red. “Yeah? what about how I’m feeling? You don’t give a shit how I’m feeling, do you? All you’re concerned about is her.” You let out an angry scoff. “Well, you listen to me you asshole. Do whatever the fuck you want with her. You’ve clearly shown me who you care about. Go. Get out. Go to her and ease her awkwardness. Just let me tell you one thing though, whatever little plan is in her mind, it’s clear to me. Crystal clear. I’m not being fooled.”

Jimin frowned in anger and confusion. “What plan…what do you mean?” 

“If she was that concerned about getting her career back up, she would be avoiding you at all costs right now, Jimin! Why would she accompany you to a public place? If you ask me, she planned this and she wants this rumour to be perceived as tru-” 


You head snapped to your left as you stood there in shock from the impact of his slap. You didn’t bother to stop the tears. You just turned back to look at him with wide eyes.

Jimin stood there shocked looking at his hands, his breathing heavy and shaky, eyes shining because of unshed tears and his hands shaking. He finally turned to look up at you and let out a broken cry as his hands reached out to soothe you but froze as soon as he saw you flinch. 

“No, no..” He stepped forward and fell down to his knees.”I-I didn’t mean to do that, y/n..I…I love you.” He said through his cries. 

“Step away from me Jimin.” You finally brought your hand down from your cheek, you face blank. “We’re done.” 

“NO!” Jimin was suddenly on his feet, your hands in his own, sobbing uncontrollably at the thought of what was going to happen. “No, please, y/n d-don’t leave, okay? Honey, I love you, I SWEAR! I am so sorry, p-please don’t go, hm? Please-” More cries “Don’t leave me, please y/n I swear I won’t ever, ever meet her again. I’ll do everything you say, just don’t leave me. Oh god y/n please..” He fell to his knees, your hands still in his own, looking at you with eyes drowned in tears.

You looked at the man you loved, begging you on his knees to stay and even if your sub-conscious mind was screaming at you to take him back, you couldn’t. You knew your soul wouldn’t forgive you, if you forgave him and let yourself be okay with what he had done. He had just…hit you. 

You yanked your hands back and he let out another cry. Without turning back you picked up your purse and walked out of his apartment, leaving behind a sobbing mess of a Jimin crying out for you. 

Then and maybe forever. 

YAAAAAAAAAAS I’m such an angst-whore I luuuurve it.Tell me how you liked it babies. *Hitting someone is not acceptable at all. Please don’t ever give this pain to someone. Treasure your partner and if you can’t, then leave them. Don’t ever, ever trap them in an abusive relationship. Stay blessed my babies. 🤘🏻


Much love,


if you follow tumblr user t/e/a/r/z/a/h please be aware that they’re incredibly abusive and manipulative. they’ve abused me and several of my friends, as well as harassed and encouraged harassment of minors because they believed they were involved with us.
they recently tried to say they wanted to “fix things” between us, and when 2 of these victims of theirs didn’t immediately forgive them, they began trying to paint these people as abusive. we broke off contact some time ago but they literally continue to try and abuse us daily?? I didn’t want to post anything until a post we all were working on was complete but the longer we wait the more dangerous it becomes for us (they literally name dropped one of their victims earlier today) and I’m just tired of this I’m tired of being so scared all the time and I know the others they’ve hurt are as well. if you want proof I’ve got tons of it and I’m more than happy to share it if it means preventing them from hurting anymore people than they already have.

Breathe In, Breathe Out

So. It’s day 6 and I’m cheating just a little bit with this prompt. Technically I hit the ‘death’ thing in spirit and in Damian’s thoughts. Plus it was the inspiration for this. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the story.

I do need to give a quick thank you to @audreycritter for helping me figure out just how to make this fic work.

Rating: Gen 

Warnings: suffocation, buried alive 

Words: 3,351

Summary: When patrol goes wrong and Damian finds himself buried in a crate all he has are this thoughts to keep him company while he waits (and hopes) for rescue.

AO3 Link

The repetitive noise of thump thump thump above him woke Damian. He was in darkness, and his head was pounding, the air felt hot and stifled. Where was he? What happened? His brain was slow in giving answers. He moved to sit up, making it halfway before his head bumped against wood.

He hissed as pain bloomed again, meeting the ache in the back of his skull. The sound above him stopped, and then voices began to argue in muffled tones. One shouted, there was silence, and then the thumping started again.

Damian reached out above him and then around, finding wood all around. A box. He was in some kind of box. A shipping container, he remembered. It’s label had said something about it containing an in box refrigerator but it really held packing peanuts and small bombs. Now he was stuck in it. Maybe forever.

No he couldn’t think like that. He would get out.

He had a sinking suspicion of what the sound was, but he didn’t want to admit it. Instead he reached up and pressed his hands to the top of the box, firm solid wood meeting him as he pushed.

The lid shifted just slightly, something catching to hold it in place before dirt poured in. Then another thump resounded, knocking the tiny bit of space he’d opened down again. Damian spluttered, frantically rubbing the dirt off his face.

He sucked in a breath. They were burying him.

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demigodgirl91  asked:

Hello. I like your Harry Hook blog! I was wondering if I could request a Harry Hook x reader (she's Moana's daughter) and they're dating. He helps her conquer her fear of boats/ sailing (something he loves). Thank you!


Writer - @harry-hook-me (myself)

Request - @demigodgirl91

Disclaimer - I do not own any of the Descendants characters or scenes from the movies, all credits goes to the creators and producers of Disneys descendants.

Summary – Harry helps the reader (daughter of Moana) to get over her fear of sailing.

Warnings – None

Word count- 664

Originally posted by alonedickone

I walked along the beach, the soft warm golden sand underneath my feet, the cool breeze blowing through my hair. I watched the gentle waves wash against the sand. My mother Moana loves the sea, she loves to sail. So way was I so afraid of sailing? That’s one thing I could never understand, my mother spent half her life sailing, but I have never built up the courage to, my grandfather, Chief Tui, had told me so many stories about the sae being dangerous, it stopped me from ever going sailing with my mother. I was simply too scared.

I took in the beautiful scenery around me and closed my eyes, letting the setting sun shine its last rays of the day onto my face. The sound of footsteps broke me out of my relaxing state. I opened my eyes to see Harry walking up to me. Harry and I have been dating for a couple of months now, He’s the complete opposite of his father since he came over to Auradon, he’s sweet, kind, generous. “You alright love?” he asked in his thick Scottish accent. He wrapped his arms around my waist and I wrapped one arm round his neck, still looking at the breath taking view. I nodded, and rested my head on his chest taking a deep breath and enjoying the moment.

“Come with me, I have something to show you” Harry said pulling away from the secure hug, he took my hand and led me to a little shack. Harry opened up the chipped white doors and inside was a wooden boat with a red sail, “I was thinking we could go sailing.” Harry mentioned, “uh- I” I stuttered feeling rather nervous, I had never told Harry about my fear of sailing, “What’s wrong?” he questioned, a slight look of concern appearing on his face. “Harry- I-, I’m afraid of sailing” I whispered just loud enough so he could still hear, “how could you be” he chuckled “your mother practically lived on the sea”, his smile faded once he saw I wasn’t joking. “Why?” he asked simply. “My grandfather, he used to tell me all these stories when I was young, about how dangerous the sea is.” I told him looking only at the floor. Harry stepped closer “hey” lifted my head with his index finger, “while I’m with you, nothing will hurt you, I won’t let it” he ensured looking deeply into my eyes. He lent down and place a soft and loving kiss on my lips.

We had got the boat out of the shack and placed it by the water, my heart rate was rising, I was really nervous, harry could see this. “Hey, I’m right here, you’re going to be fine.” He reassured me before climbing into the boat then stretching out his hand to help me in. I sat in between his legs and Harry began to sail us out to sea.

The wind was blowing through my hair, the smell of the salty see surrounding me. The blue water looked beautiful and the sun setting in the background made it even better. I smiled to myself. This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I felt Harry’s arms wrap around me, I smiled a bit more and held on to his arms. “I knew you would love it” he said, his head resting on my shoulder. “Thank you” I simply replied with, “I love it” I giggled never taking my eyes away from the setting sun and the orangey pink colour of the sky. I love this, and I sure hope I can do this more often with Harry, just me and him. “I love you” the pirate whispered into my ear, “I snuggled closer to him “I love you too” I replied smiling.

We stayed out on the sea until the sun had fully set and the moon and stars came out. I wish this moment never had to end.

Creepypasta #1049: I Am A Truck Driver, And I Will Never Forget The Time I Broke Down At 4 In The Morning

Length: Medium

Being a trucker means constant travel. Constant travel means constant change, and constant change means constant danger. This was something I had to accept when I took the job all those years ago. But back then I though that nothing would ever happen to me, there was no chance of me running into danger. I was completely invincible behind the wheel of my rig. But hell was I wrong.

I’d crossed the state border a while ago and my eyes were starting to get heavy. I hadn’t seen anyone else on the roads for miles and I was getting bored of listening to chat show after chat show. Suddenly, the truck started slowing down. I pressed my foot down hard, on the pedal but it had no effect. I shook myself wide awake and sat up. My truck rolled a few more meters, then came to a halt. I just sat there for a minute, confused, before I unclipped my belt and climbed out.

I quickly came to the realisation that I had run out of fuel. I was pretty pissed at myself for not paying more attention. Thinking about it, I did hear the warning bleep some time ago. I was about to call my boss when I heard a voice from behind me. I spun round real fast, holding my phone as if it was a weapon. A man slowly approached me. He looked to be in his early forties, with grey hair and a mustache. He seemed to be chewing a lump of tobacco and walked with a slight limp.

“Looks like you’ve run outta gas”, he croaked, still approaching me. I shrugged and told him that I’d fine and started to walk back towards the truck. 

“I gotta place not so far from here where I could get you some fuel." 

I didn’t believe him. Too many things didn’t add up. Why was he out here, at this location, at this time, just as I broke down? I repeated that I already had some fuel in the back and that I didn’t need any help. I got in and locked the doors. I just wanted this man to go away. I saw him walk off into the tree line and disappear.

I called my boss and he said he’d sent some one out to tow me, but they might take some time. I ended up falling asleep where I sat, feeling much more secure with my doors locked and the man gone.

I woke up some time later and realised that I was moving. I was confused at first but then remembered that someone had been sent to tow the truck. I wondered why they didn’t wake me up. But maybe they had tried - I’m a deep sleeper and the doors were locked. I noticed that it was still dark outside, and tried to work out where we were on the map. I couldn’t see any signs along the side of the road and had no clue where I was. 

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anonymous asked:

I don't even follow your shitty blog but that post somehow made its way to my tl. Nobody's even remotely mad over here trust me. Also find it hilarious how you only acknowledged hxh because even though it's good it's still not on the level of the other 2. And of course you would stan FMA for those reasons lol I can already tell you're some feminist who hates men. And how is sasunaru not a yaoi ship? Do you even know what it means? Doubt it. Just go back to being a disappointment to your parents

Yaoi consists of fetishizing and sexualizing male/male relationships and enforcing seme and uke stereotypes, which I’m completely against. It also spreads incorrect (and potentially dangerous should anyone uneducated decide to follow it) information about sex. It creates a false image for the LGBT+ community that we’ve been fighting against for years and doesn’t help with normalizing our relationships. I’m all for accurate LGBT+ representation in the media but yaoi definitely isn’t it. Sasuke and Naruto are canonly soulmates, together they broke a cycle of hatred no one before them had been able to, they went so far for each other, even risking their lives and goals for one another. “My one and only” “I will shoulder your hatred and die with you.” “I’m really glad I met you.”. It’s a ship that consists of two people who love and understand one another like no one else, who got past their hardships and learned to be at peace. It’s not Yaoi just because it insists of two men. And yes, I only mentioned HxH because it’s the only one I’ve watched from the ones you mentioned. I’ve seen bits and pieces of one piece and I didn’t like it much. Just because YOU think FMA Brotherhood isn’t good (which, I’m afraid to tell you it’s one of the highest rated animes of all time boo) doesn’t mean we all do. And lol, yes, me.. who has dated men, hates men. Sure fam. I don’t hate men, I hate ignorant people like you. Now go be petty somewhere else.



(Hello friends! Shay here, dropping a new imagine! Sorry this one took so long, I made the mistake of starting two imagines at the same time! I’m almost done with the second one, so that should be up soon! My finals are almost done, so hopefully I can pump out lots of imagines during winter break! As always, these gifs are not mine! Feel free to leave comments/concerns/questions. Enjoy!)

Paring: Barry x Reader (gender neutral!)

Word Count: 1425

“(Y/N), you know why I have to do this. Please don’t make it harder than it needs to be.” Barry said softly, a tear escaped from his sad eyes.

“Barry, it doesn’t have to be this way!” You choked up. “I love you. If we’re apart, then, yes, maybe I’d be safer. But I wouldn’t be whole; I wouldn’t be happy.” The waterworks began. Heavy tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I..I’m so sorry, (Y/N). If you got hurt, or worse, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. This is the only way to keep you safe.” Barry explained, trying to keep himself together. Biting your bottom lip to fight back the tears, all you could do was silently shake your head in protest. Barry leaned down, and gently kissed your cheek, “Goodbye, (Y/N).”

Then you snapped back to reality. You were sitting on your couch, in your apartment, which once felt bright, warm and homey. But now, feels gloomy, cold, and distant. You lounged in your fuzzy pajama pants and loose t-shirt, clutching a pillow to your chest. The TV was turned on, it’s purpose mainly for background noise. The sound of the pounding rain trumped the TV’s audio. One of your kitchen lights was turned on, just so you didn’t ruin your eyesight completely. You just sat, and stared into nothingness.

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You Were Always Mine, Chapter 12

AU Tom Hiddleston - Romantic, Historical Romance, Victorian Fic. 
Based off the imagine; ‘Thomas spying on you after your divorce and doing anything to get you back. Including threatening your new beau.’ credits go to the lovely ladies at Link to the imagine here….

Chapter number: Chapter 12
Author: Punk-in-docs
Triggers/warnings: smut! And angst.


“Do you think…”

Thomas asked, his coarse, rough, morning voice grating against her ears like gravel. They had shared another exquisite night abed last night, and were consequently naked as a result. She felt his warm, inventors fingers slide along her shoulder. His lips joining to her silken skin not long after. Kissing over one of his favourite moles that pocked her pale body.

“… That because of the strict social times we find ourselves in. Miss James. When a single man can’t so much as touch a single woman. That our sheer, overwhelming need to make love, quite as often as we have done, is fuelled by a deeper, more salacious desire to be all the more promiscuous?” He enquires.

She chuckles sleepily. Opening her eyes to her sun drenched bedroom, to peer across at him over her shoulder. He lay behind her. His hips keenly pressing his lower body into her own. She shuffles round, he lifts his arms to tuck her into his pale chest. He smelt like sleepy bed sheets, and the musk of male sweat. He enclosed his arms about her. Pulling her so they were pressed skin to skin.

“Yes. Dear heart. Why don’t you know, It’s the only reason I allowed you in my bed.” Vianne teases with that fabulous, cheeky smile he adored seeing. He can’t help it. He smiles too at the sight of her own. His hands slides under the covers, down over her hip, and squeezes the fleshy globe of her rear.

“Cruel, vixen, woman.” He smiles, not taking his eyes off her. His eyes creasing at the sides with the force of his smile.

“I think we keep on ending up in each other arms, and bed sheets, because you and I both know it’s inevitable that we should do so.” She adds. “It’s astonishing to me how very right it feels.” She tells him.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t always so. You’ve no idea. Vianne I will regret not being a good husband to you for the rest of my life.” He tells her earnestly. Guilt drowning those expressive eyes. As he stroked a pretty coil of hair back past her cheek.

“From that very first Sharpe kiss. Stood on my doorstep, in the pouring rain. I was condemned.” She explains to him. That made his heart hurt. Because how had it escaped his notice she was besotted, body and soul with him, and he barely gave her any indication that he returned those feelings.

“Oh, my love…” He sighs. Taking her face in his hands.

“I… Back at Allerdale. Even when we were alone. I could never seem to, fully, disclose how I felt. Because I was certain the walls had ears… Now I am relieved of that, burden. Let me make it evidently clear. Vianne. Before you, I felt like my life was rehearsed. Ball after ball, flattering girl after girl. Doing nothing more than being a vessel for Lucille’s greed and monetary needs. She kept saying to me, “this one will be the last. Then it can be us, for eternity. Just love and death.” But I couldn’t… Would not, let her get to you. I tried with all my might… But then you….left anyway.“ He explained.

It was her turn to feel rotten. Here he was pouring out his heart. And she still hadn’t told him about the contents of her own. She so badly wanted to let them loose.

"Well. I’m sorry there had to be such tragedy and heartbreak on our routes back to one another.” She swallows.

Their intimate, pillow talk made all the more heartfelt. As they lay in one another’s arms. Bare and vulnerable. And they had both been as such, many times before. Brutalised by his family and suffocated by his sister. And she, orphaned as a small child, and then thrown, after her heartache, at the mercy of a man who broke her bones, bruised her, and beat her. In their separate ways, they had both been battered, and mangled by life, and love.

“I’m not.” Thomas tells her. Still stroking her coppery hair. Admiring her.

Being free of his biggest demon two years ago, had liberated so many things for him. Of course, in his anger and rage, he had completely put aside the love he previously had for his sister. He could only focus on all the horrible things she’d made him suffer through. The murders. The grief. The rage. He was dangerously fed up of living under her iron fist. And then along came this red haired, saviour. Vianne was a godsend in more ways that one. She was his salvation. And she had saved him. She’d made him see what true love, caring, and nurturing was. Being with her was the first time he felt like his life wasn’t shrouded in cold shadow.

She sighs. Pressing a kiss to his hand. She could see sometimes. A sadness flare in his eyes. He had lost one woman he loved to gain another. And no matter how horrid the circumstance was, it was bound to have a deeper hold on him than he let on.

She wants to tell him. But somehow, now didn’t seem like the right time…. In her gut she knows she’d feel down to the very narrow of her bones. when the right time was. She didn’t want to spoil this moment.

“When do you need to leave for work?” She asks.

The sun had only just risen. But it was full and bright. And promised the day would be a happy one. He had mentioned last night that he needed to make a call in at the office. Check the yard was running along without him. His office was installed in a large factory come foundry in Richmond.

“I’ll go before eight. If I can stomach tearing away from such a naked beauty.” He smiles.

Vianne was biting the bullet. She knows she had to try and tell him somehow. And her courage flares.

“Well… Why don’t I come and relieve you of a lonely lunch hour? I haven’t got to help Harriden until this afternoon. We could…go for afternoon tea if you cared for it?” She asks. Her brain tells her that Saint Anthony’s was virtually five streets over from Thomas’s factory workplace. Could she stomach taking him there? Letting him know the truth?

“I’d adore that. You be careful though.” He warns her. “Start flaunting that beautiful face and figure on the factory floor, I could quite rightly have mutiny on my hands from my workers.” He flatters, winking at her.

She laughs at his honeyed words. He always did have a silver tongue. And he always found ways to put it to good use.

“I thought gentleman of your calibre, Mr. Sharpe, only flattered women, in order to get them into situations much like the ones we presently find ourselves in. Now, your gallantry seems rather superfluous. Does it not?” She teases.

“There is a beautifully naked woman in my arms. Miss James. Whom I made come undone, screaming my name the whole night through. I flatter her when I see fit. Naked or not.” He lusts, his eyes growing dark.

Before she can point out that he would be late for work should he carry on. Her eyes flutter back in her head, and she sighs wantonly as his lips find that certain spot on her neck. He feels her body shiver, his blood ran hot and his ardour started to stir.

He doesn’t have time to be gentle with her. Not this morning. He flattens her on her back, harshly grabbing her hands and pinning them up over her head. Making her supple curves arch up, exposed, prostrate under him as he asserts himself between her split thighs. Those predatory eyes rake over her body. Over her pert nipples, and her heaving chest. He’s assessing her like he wants to swallow her whole.

“Thomas…” She gasps softly. Her voice hoarse with lust and he’d barely even started yet. He trailed his lips over the pulse point in her neck. Feeling it thrum against his lips. Smirking as he felt it. Quickening. Like a carnivore would sense it’s preys pulse erratic in it’s fear.

“You keep your hands where I’ve put them.”

He tells her firmly. She nods. Complying. Eager for his next move. Retracting both hands, he skims down to her ribs, and his mouth swoops down to capture a rosy peak in his hot mouth. His tongue toys with it. Driving her to distraction. Making her buck and writhe, and her head thrown back, exposing that long neck. He feels her toes curling against the sides of his thighs.

His head travels lower. Leading kisses down the centre of her body. Not stopping. Even when he got to her sweet cleft. He trails his fingertips through her dark thatch of hair. She gasps shakily again. Trying hard to obey his wishes. She moans gutturally. Clutching her hands, hard, into the pillow behind her head. Biting down her lip.

He kisses her. Right at the very heart of her womanhood. A jolt of longing tears through her body. He liked toying with his belongings, did Thomas Sharpe. Her moans were music to his ears.

More so when his notorious silver tongue lapped and lapped at her, coaxing pleasure to flutter through her veins. Bursting through her body like tidal waves. Her back arches, and she cannot believe the carnality of the sounds, moans, that they are both making. He groaned as he dragged his lips across her, and stroked two long fingers to plunge deep inside her. Keeping his mouth on that little pearl of pleasure. Her sex sucked ravenously at his appendages. And through strands of that wild raven hair, he looked up, seeing her strain against his ministrations. She was crying out gods name, closely mingled with his own.

She looked so beautiful. Breathtakingly so, when he was pleasuring her. A sight he could watch for eternity. Her face contorted in a soundless cry of ecstasy. Her body shuddering as her legs wrapped around his shoulders, urging him closer.

He can’t take it. She was eager for more. And he ached to give it. He has to be inside her. He snatches himself away from her with a snarl, and one hand presses open her right thigh, he guides himself to her wet sex, and drives in deep with one push of his hips. Their bodies slap together, and his mouth crashes down to her own.

He allows her hands to move now. Especially as those small, dainty things grapple for his shoulders, the sting of her nails biting into his back urges him on. He growls against her neck. Plunging himself deeper into her velvet heat. His free hand, that didn’t clutch at her breast, folded her thigh up and over his hip. She can feel their pelvises gyrate, matching the speed of the other. Their bodies flush with heat, the sensation of one another’s weight and skin only fuelling the raging desire. His teeth dig into her neck, nibbling at her delectable skin.

“Everytime I touch you. God. Even when I’m inside you, still making love to you…” He groans. “All I can think… Is that I want more… ” He moans, bucking his hips faster. Seeing her groan as she clutched at him harder. Her dark blue eyes taking in the sight of him as they made love. That primal, dark lust in his eyes as he gave them both pleasure.

“You have me. All of me… Oh god. Thomas…you have me…” She sighs. He watches her bite her lip. And that almost makes him come undone.

But he can’t. Not yet. He helps her along. Rubbing his thumb in pressing circles around that tight pearl that makes her shout loudly. But when her legs start to shiver again. He knows he’s doing something right.

The pleasure comes to a urgent peak. He grabs her hips, and slams into her hard. Adoring the sounds of their bodies as they entwined sharply. Slapping together. He takes her face in his hands, and kisses her. They groan into each other’s mouths. Shouting and muffling their release. Coming powerfully undone together.

When he finishes coaxing out every, single, ounce of pleasure he could wring from their encounter. Panting, he leans over her. Resting his forehead on her shoulder. Kissing her dewy skin.

“Careful. Or you’ll be late for work… My dear. The boss can’t be seen to be unpunctual.” Vianne sighs. Raking a hand through his onyx hair.

He gathers her closer, if that was even possible. Cupping her head. He kisses her again. Deeply. His thumb stroking over her ear and jaw. The way he held her so possessively made her feel safe, adored and desired.

“I can be as unpunctual as I like. With this beauty in my arms. There’s a danger I may never be on time, ever again.” He winks.


Whether he parted from Vianne. He felt as if he were leaving a part of his heart behind. But the thought of returning to her soon, put a spring back in his step. He strode proudly off the the Richmond factory that morning after bedding his beautiful ex-wife.

As soon as he stepped foot across the factory threshold, he is plunged straight back into the world of mechanics and engineering. Of pistons, the scent of motor oil, frayed fan belts, head gaskets and manifolds. His mind turning from leisure to industry. He strides to his workshop slash office, and before he can even set down his briefcase in the desk, he is roped into helping on the factory floor.

His day passes quickly in a blur of dynamics and difficult machinery. At one point, he is on his back, under the stubborn contraption he invented, swearing the cursed thing into either oblivion, or working order.

His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, and this leaves him in a black waistcoat and breeches. He was virtually up to his elbows in grease and muck. Trying in vain to fix a loose, misbehaving, spur gear that had come off it’s tracks, with a dial calliper. He was wincing up at the machine. Muttering little pleas to god that it would work after his interference.

“Come on, you bloody nuisance…” He talks encouragingly up to it. Hearing the clatter and bustle of the factory floor going on around him. But he didn’t hear the sound if a pair of heels heading his way.

“What’s that old saying?…” Comes a sweet, silvery voice that he instantly recognised. It makes him grin instantly. He couldn’t see the source of such a lovely voice. As he currently had his head halfway under the main bulk of his life’s work. But when he ducks his head out, he sees his biggest, most beautiful distraction beaming down at him.

Copper hair perfectly coiffed in a chignon. Kitted out in a blue velvet dress, and navy drop sleeved jacket. With diamond droplet earrings dangling from her lobes, and a dark bowler hat perched over her eyes, pinned to sit low on her hair. Looking as gorgeous as ever.

“… It’s either, a bad workman blames his tools. Or, that one about speaking to inanimate objects kindly, and treating things how you want to be treated yourself…” She grins. Folding her gloved hands as she leaned against the nearest, safest, table.

Looking over her shoulder, at the intricate blueprints spread out behind her. Pinned to the surface with dividers, compasses and scale rules. The blueprints looked terribly beyond her comprehension. That were engineers of a different sort. He of machinery. She of anatomy. Both were detailed trades.

He groans, and the sound takes her back to that morning, when they were abed. But he then heaved himself up from under the thing, into his feet. His clothes flecked with dust and muck. His hands were slathered all over in engine grease. And he even had a smudge if it on his forehead. But he had that determined, steadfast glow of a man who looked as though he very much enjoyed his profession. Which he knows he did beyond all doubt.

He daggers a glance around him. Seeing that a few pairs of male eyes were remaining fixed on her. The rare sight of a beautiful woman on the factory floor. In amongst the muck, grime and incessant whirring of machinery. It was no place for a gentle woman. But Vianne looked right at ease, and at home, by her lovers side.

“Well. Kind words will be wasted, on this shrewish machine. She’s as stubborn as anything I’ve known.” He tells. Reaching behind her for a rag on which he wiped his hands.

She blushed when she thought of what those hands had done to her that very morning. He saw it also. When he leaned in close. He could smell the alluring french perfume on her neck. It clung to her bed sheets too, he noticed, and after he made love to her, he could sense it lingering on his skin too. It was intoxicating.

After he did clean his hands, he took hers, and kissed it.

“You. Are the most inciting lunch break from work I’ve had in a very long while.” He smiles. Winking at her in a lusting way. That was when he noticed she had a hamper slung to the crook of one elbow.

“May I enquire as to the occasion?” He asks. Nodding to the wicker basket. Still wiping his hands. Grease was, literally, slippery customer of which to rid himself of. She smiles. Lugging the basket further up onto her hip.

“Our luncheon. Is the occasion. And I hope you have an appetite. Hot, homemade chicken pot pie. All the trimmings. Buttered potatoes, cabbage. And two bottles of ginger ale, with Jeanie’s excellent Chester pudding if that doesn’t satisfy your hunger.” She tells. He wasn’t even hungry, but after hearing that list. He was suddenly famished and his mouth watered.

He leaned closer to her then. His smile growing completely wicked.

“Depends. To which hunger of mine are you referring?” He asks slyly.

“The culinary kind.” She smiles back. Equally as flirtatiously.

He steps away before he causes outrage and scandal. They saved that for behind closed doors. He grabbed his jacket, and leads her through to his office. Closed off from the floor by a wall of windows. He opens the door for her, letting her pass through. She smiles at the scene before her. Even if no one told her this was his office, she’d know it from the personal touches alone.

It was unorganised, a little cluttered. But stuffed to the brim with half finished inventions made from a brilliant, kind mind. Tiny metal creations, contraptions and half finished toys. Littering the shelves, or clumsily collapsing to heaps on his desk. There is a worn, expensive scarlet wool rug on the floor, the fire burns merrily, as does the oil lamp on the desk. The walls were a washed shade if midnight blue. Crammed with framed blueprints and maps. And a homage to Isambard Brunel in one frame.

She places the hamper on the desk, and takes off her gloves. Thomas shuts the door behind them. Coming up behind her, he sweeps a coil of her hair aside, and presses a kiss to the join of her neck, and spine. Closing his eyes. Humming in bliss.

“Despicable. Mr. Sharpe. People may see us…” She worries, looking outside the windows to the factory floor. Biting let lip as she feels his on her skin.

“Get your coat off. Miss James. I’ll unpack the food.” He promises, moving around her as she peels off her outer layers in the welcome warmth of his office. He unlatched the lid, diving in for the warmed pies and all the trimmings.

She un-pins her hat, and lays it on his desk. Rounding it to have a closer look at the pictures on his wall. Her hands on her hips as she examines them curiously. Tilting her head. Thomas watches her being inquisitive. Smiling at her for that trait he so adored and admired. When she turns back, something on his desk made her halt in her tracks. There were two silver picture frames on his desk. And she was in the both of them.

One was a wedding photo. Both him and her, side by side in wedding attire. Stood at that chapel in Gretna green. And the other, was simply her. A portrait. Black and white, she was elegantly posed. Her hair coiffed, and wearing a fine high collared dress. That spears warmth right into her very heart. Thomas looks up. Seeing her admire the pictures. One hand gingerly reaching up to touch the top of one of the oval frames. He sighs a smile.

“None of…. Your family?” She asks softly. He knew full well she meant Lucille. She just couldn’t bring herself to say it. And he didn’t blame her.

“They aren’t the ones I missed.” He tells her. Smiling gently.

She has to tell him. She had to tell him now. She was waiting for the right moment. And this was it. She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t take it. Grab it tight and take that risk. It was too great to let it pass gently.

“Thomas… I’ve . There’s been something… on my mind now for… Quite a while. And it’s…” She stammers. Wringing her hands together, nervously.

He blinks. Tilting his head to urge her on. But when she opens her mouth. A sharp rattling knock to the door cuts her off. She blinks. Jarring out of the moment as Thomas, frowned apologetically, and went for the door handle. A worker gave his apologies for his interruption. But told Thomas something brief about a frayed belt and a loose gear shaft.

He turned back to her, leaning close. Kissing her solidly on the lips as he cupped her head.

“I’m so sorry. You can start without me if your hungry. I just have to see to this urgent matter…” He smiles. Kissing her hand, before he slides away. Off onto the floor, away to fix and tend to things.

Vianne watched him go. She sighs. Heavily. She wished she could mend things as readily, as adeptly as he could. As it was, the moment, yet again. Had slipped right through her fingers.


@frenchfrostpudding @heavymist @totallynotasmutblog enjoy ladies 😘

On the choking scene

I was freaking floored when I heard the dialogue from this scene. Sure, in my fanfic-y heart of hearts I imagined that LF was talking about his feelings for Sansa but I didn’t think it’d actually happen.

LF had a whole platter of subjects to get under Jon’s skin, knowing what he knows including:
-House Stark being in the Vale’s debt after Bastard Bowl (not the breaking point)
-failing his famously honorable father by breaking his oath to the Night’s Watch (technicality)
-only being KITN because of Robb’s death (which would be especially effective to Jon even though LF doesn’t know Jon almost broke his vows to go help Robb in S1)
-insulting his mother’s assumed station (I doubt LF knows about R+L=J but I think he suspects something)
-imply that the Northern lords will turn on him to make Sansa queen (Jon’s already been betrayed once)

But no - within universe LF is being completely transparent about his desires with the person who is, at the moment, his most immediate rival to the throne. LF doesn’t ever tell the truth if he feels it would be better to lie. He doesn’t put himself into danger unnecessarily. That entire scene is LF trying to get into Jon’s good graces and he ends his sales pitch on “trusting LF” with “I can’t have ulterior motives because I love Sansa” - basically the exact same tactic he pulled in S1 when he dealt with Ned’s investigation - “You can trust that I won’t cross you because I wouldn’t hurt your wife who you know I’m still in love with.” AND JON ACTS EXACTLY THE SAME WAY.

I also don’t think it’s a coincidence that LF face is out of focus during his confession while we watch Jon’s reaction in real time in a medium close-up. We see exactly when Jon’s face telegraphs his strike, but we don’t see LF’s expression while he shares this information. Is he surprised? Cautious? Sincere? We have no reason to believe he isn’t being truthful knowing what we know.

Good scenes end with the point of the scene, and here it ends with LF observing *something* about Jon and Sandra’s relationship. Maybe it’s that Jon cares deeply enough about his half-sister to kill someone who he perceives as a threat but isn’t open enough about those emotions to have anymore than a distance wave goodbye. The entire Stark sequence is like this: Jon being distant from Sansa and not telling her anything about his decisions, but then turning around and supporting/validating her by threatening her enemies without her knowledge and making her regent. Jon isn’t a duplicitous person - if he’s distant it’s because he feels he can’t be closer and more honest with someone. LF realizes this but doesn’t know WHY yet.

Is it because of romantic feelings? My head says probably not, so minus shipping goggles I can’t think of a good reason.

anonymous asked:

Rey dancing in a club and makes * eye contact * with a tall dark stranger

Here you go! A Reylo drabble as promised, you ask and I will deliver. Hope you enjoy :) 


The beat of the music thumped throughout the club, the overhead lights dashing and dividing every color of the spectrum across the faces of the dance floor crowd. Tipsy girls in skin tight dresses slammed their heels into the dance floor and twisted their torsos alongside their friends, flashy jewelry twinkling in the lights. 

Finn and Rey perch themselves at the edge of the bar, waiting on another round of shots purchased with her fake ID. They looked out at the girls tugging up their strapless sequin dresses, girls with their hair done up and eyeliner drawn in thick black wings. 

“This is a bad idea.” Finn insisted as Rey handed him the brimming glass of liquor. She cut him a look before tipping the glass back, her throat bobbing as she swallowed down her shot, wincing at the fire the alcohol burned on its path down. Ceremoniously, they finish their glasses and land them upside down on the bar in tandem.

“Too late now!” she laughs, taking her friend’s hand and tugging him along to the throng of people before he could protest. Squeezing past the gyrating bodies, they clear a space and Rey lets go of Finn’s hand, beginning to sway her hips in her pale peach dress. Smiling as Finn danced shamelessly alongside her, Rey raised her arms over her body, the flowy kimono sleeves of her dress sliding down to her tanned shoulders. She began to loosen up—a product of the alcohol, and she loved it. Her body swayed to the music naturally, the lights from the club splaying across her face and catching the gold glitter in her eye shadow as she rolled her neck.

There are times when she is so into the dancing that it becomes a singular experience. She gets lost, her head falling back in abandon as she soaks in the lights, then her eyes slip shut and she’s just gone. 

She twirled, soaking in the music like its rain. The world around her falls away until there is only the music. She is unaware of how she moves and all the people watching the riveting motions of her hips. It’s an exploration of the intimate bond she forms with the rhythm, creating the sensuality that draws people in.

Across the club, Kylo watches this radiant girl. Watches as the chestnut waves of her hair unfurl from her bun and gather around her shoulders, watches as her delicate hand slides past the lace near her plunging neckline to lift her little skirt up her thigh, he just watches this vision dancing in the lights and the lace.

It’s here, under the lights and the stares that she sees him. Her eyes open for a brief and hazy moment, knowing instantly when she finds him what she was searching for. She took in the tall and dark stranger across the way, ignoring the men looking her up and down with their hands on their chins.

A pair of massive and broad shoulders leaned against the wall, his crossed arms displaying the strength of his pale biceps. Her gaze traveled higher, brows raising in interest along the way and her front teeth catching her bottom lip as she liked what she saw. His dark hair cast shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw and the hollows of his throat, his full lips parting slightly as she constellated the freckles dotting his honest face. When she reached his eyes and found his gaze fixed squarely upon her she looked away, a blush creeping up her neck.

He eyed her from across the room, watching her watch him.

With shyness thrown to the wind–courtesy of the alcohol, she met his intense stare again, tossing her hair and finding her rhythm with the music once more. She extended her arm out towards him and then turned her palm clockwise, her fingers twisting to rest on her thumb as if curling around a length of rope to pull him forward. A slight smile softened her freckled cheeks, and his eyes caught the glint in hers that meant for him to join her. He pushed people aside blindly as he strolled towards her, his gaze focused on the connection between their eyes.

Before long, Rey felt the strength of his arms as they encircled her. Then her eyes close in a newfound bliss as they sank into one another easily, leaning her head back against his dense chest and guiding his hands along the bones of her hips. His head dropped into the fragrant hollow of her neck, the edge of his nose trailing the length of her throat and brushing over her chandelier earrings. The thin material of her dress did nothing to shield her from the heat of his touch against her waist, his hands crushing the polyester between his fingers as he held her tight against him. 

They drifted, sinking into the warmth of one another and the flow of the people around them when Rey’s hands decided they belonged in his hair. His lips softly brushed over the space where her pulse throbbed, her breath shuddering as they parted and she could feel the slight edge of his teeth as he dragged his mouth upwards. Goosebumps broke across her flesh and her lashes fluttered when he crested her jaw. Rey shifted the angle of her hips to the right, her heel dragging across the floor as she tipped her pelvis back into his, fingers weaved into the softness of his hair.

His identity is completely unknown to her. She doesn’t know his name, his age, or even if he’s on the F.B.I’s most wanted list. He’s dangerous either way. She thought back to what Finn said earlier about this being a bad idea, and she remembered her response to him as she let the stranger’s hands curve around her, his long fingers capturing the girth of her waist completely. 


Still taking sentence prompts, might take me 24 hours to fill but I’ll get around to them. Thanks for reading!  

heart-will-not-surrender  asked:

Scapolite takes a deep breath, before looking at Pink Diamond from kneeling on the ground. "I wish to give Calcite her pearl privileges back, I think I've found a way to make her useful to Homeworld without being a danger to those around her. She may have completed horrendous acts.. But she hasn't done them for a rebellion. Out of her own scientific curiosity. Labeling her a traitor sounds a bit extreme after I've thought about it." ( scapolitesofficialtwitter )

Oh, Scapolite… Do you see her crime as being so minimal out of self loathing? She is a traitor, rebellion or not, as she broke federal court laws with her experiments and abuse of position.
I don’t think she’ll be getting a pearl anytime soon.
But, nevertheless, what is your idea for her use?


The weather today is mediocre in your area, and the outside world is dangerous. Better to stay inside tonight.

What did you listen to today? We recommend WWCOMMS-certified music. We have heard your concerns about our continued endorsement of the band Bastille, and we assure you that they are not dangerous as long as you do not think too hard while listening.

WWCOMMS is currently investigating the “incident” outside our United States headquarters today. We give our deepest condolences to the families of those involved.

We are excited to announce that WWCOMMS influence is expanding in Oceania. We broke ground today on a re-education building in Canberra, Australia and hope to have completed construction by June of next year.

Lately, we have noticed many questions, reports, and complaints being sent to us incorrectly. Remember that you may send non-urgent or general questions to us via this social platform, but requests to become an employee, important information about incidents related to WWCOMMS, and reports of anti-WWCOMMS extremists must be sent to your local WWCOMMS representatives instead.

That is all for today’s news report. Thank you for tuning in, and remember: WWCOMMS is here for you, wherever you are.


AN: just send me to SasuHina jail for this one.

Hinata looked up from a magazine when Sasuke came out of the little bathroom with a soft blue hospital gown on. It took everything in her not to laugh as he limped to the bed. He gritted his teeth and got back on it.

Sasuke was a strong man, there was no doubt about that…but never had he experienced pain like this. He blamed the petite woman smiling at him.

“The nurse left an ice pack,” said Hinata, pointing to the stand beside the bed.

Sasuke adjusted himself slowly. “I just want the doctor.”

Hinata stood and walked over to him. “I’m so sorry, Sasuke…” She placed her hand at his knee. “This isn’t how I wanted to spend our anniversary.”

He stared at her hand then to her genuinely sad face. “…Its fine.”

Before Hinata could say another word, the door opened. Sakura looked up at them to the clipboard in her hands. “N-no way,” she covered her face and stepped out.

Laughter filled the hallways and Hinata’s face glowed in embarrassment. Sasuke closed his twitching eyes. Of course, they’d get Sakura…now the whole village will know.

The door cracked open but Sakura started laughing again and closed it. Sasuke leaned back, completely irritated. Yes, he broke his hip trying to have “intercourse” with his wife. All he wanted to do is be healed and get on with the rest of the night.

“What do I prescribe him?” They heard Sakura shout.

Someone shouted back, “Maybe Viagra!”

Keep reading

Solangelo One-Shot

Words: 3,766. Rating: Everyone. There’s mild swearing, but that’s it.

The quest was simple enough. It honestly wouldn’t take more than a week or two. Jason and Nico could take care of this just fine. Will did not need to go. But did Will listen to Nico? Of course not.

Not that Will had asked for his opinion in the first place.

Keep reading

Imagine your headstrong little girl (Alt. Title: Pwince Woki)

TITLE:  Imagine your headstrong little girl (Alternate Title:  Pwince Woki)


AUTHOR:  tomstinkerbell

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:  Imagine your headstrong little girl … 



Thank you for the wonderful response to this story!


Seconds later, a woman you recognize as Black Widow burst into the room, and she’s followed quickly by the rest of the Avengers, including Loki’s brother.

Lily freezes a bit at all of the strangers who were standing around and staring at her and Loki, cringing her little body against him - not bothering to look to you for protection, but looking for and finding it with him.  You see his arms close around her as he stands, taking her with him and holding her against his chest.

“Princess Lily,” he says, patting her leg comfortingly, “I would like to present to you to my - ” he hesitates just a second there - “my friends.  This is Dr. Banner,” he starts with the one of them that looks the most innocuous  … currently.

Keep reading

South Side (Calum Hood AU)

Requested: No
Plot: Drugs, gangs, violence and the attempt to survive.
That’s what Calum Hood’s life revolves around as a guy who grew up in South Side. As he meets you, the incarnation of a well-bred girl coming from a good home, love tries to make way for itself in this screwed up life. 
Word Count: 13.819
Chapter One - 1.151 [Before him.]
Chapter Two - 1.261 [All beginnings are difficult.]
Chapter Three - 1.107 [When the real trouble began.]
Chapter Four - 1.211 [Falling for him hook, line and sinker.]
Chapter Five -  1.421 [Golden days and rose-coloured glasses.]
Chapter Six - 4.359 [Coming apart the seams.]
Chapter Seven - 3.259 [Deluded.]

Masterlist x. 
Inbox me here x. 

Before him. 

Driblets of sweat were forming on my forehead. I could feel the tiny drops pooling on my skin until the cold liquid flowed down, leaving a wet trace on my front before getting caught in my eyebrow.

I lifted my head and looked back over my shoulder towards the sun, narrowing my eyes to slits at the burning light. The water gathering in my brows was dangerously close to dripping and I raised my hand to wipe the sweat off my forehead, before letting my fingers glide through the damp streaks of my bangs.
The black asphalt beneath my feet looked like it was steaming and the thought of it melting any moment crawled into my mind. It would liquefy to a rubbery bubbling mush and the occurring dark sea on the street would swallow me up. Still heated from the sun, it would feel warm and cosy, nearly like a big black blanket nuzzling around my body while tearing me down. I’d just be gone; no more expectations to fulfil, not disappointing anyone any longer, no commitments left.

A heavy sight escaped my lips as my mind snapped back to reality.

Chicago was currently undergoing a heatwave, which meant it was the hottest summer since 1987. The sun beat down mercilessly and the only half decent – or somehow informative – aspect of the ridiculous heat was me learning, which absurd amounts of sweat my body could in fact produce. Showering seemed useless these days. All attempts were at no avail, because I just couldn’t get rid of all of the sticky fluids resting on my skin. Luckily for me Chicago’s whole population shared this distress, and by now nobody was giving others a strange look because of sweat stains anymore; everybody was suffering jointly.
My feet have taken a step forward after another and till now I didn’t even notice that I have nearly reached my final destination, the playground at the end of a very certain street.

Hastily I tried to make myself look somewhat presentable, as well as in any way possible. Amidst the pointless attempt of deducting my soaked shirt off my body, I felt clammy hands touch my skin.
Looking down I saw Noah smiling up to me while tugging my arm. As usual I ruffled his hair before intertwining his tiny fingers with mine, a small habit the both of us have created over the short duration of my stay at the ‘CCCS’.
The Child Care Centre Southside.
Working at the Centre during summer holidays seemed like a good chance to gain some hours of social work to improve my university applications and the staff there was always in need of a few helping hands. I liked the thought of interning with them out of good causes and altruism, but to be honest I was mostly doing the job to please my parents.
They were ecstatic, as one of their befriended couples from Europe told them about their daughter doing a social gap year between graduation and university and immediately decided that something similar would also be to my advantage. And as always I did just as they wish.
The only difference lay in the fact that my father would never allow to delay my studies for a year, hence I was now here;
in the middle of July, during the hottest summer since 30 years, taking nine kids on a walk to the district’s playground,
in Chicago,

South side.

Noah swung both of our hands back and forth to the rhythm of the nursery rhyme the kids were singing at the top of their voices. The melody seemed oddly familiar and I knew somewhere in the rear of my mind the lyrics were whirring around – neither used since a time that seemed ages ago nor forgotten anyway – but I couldn’t seem to grasp a hold of the words.
The little boy holding my hand looked up at me, though his voice seemed to be miles away as he begged me to sing along. Without looking down I ruffled his hair once again and just shook my head no, while staring intently straight ahead. My thoughts were already completely and utterly preoccupied with something – or more precisely someone – else as I guided the kids around the next corner.

There he was again.
He was sitting on his front porch with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other one, flushing down the smoke with a gulp of brew after every puff he was taking, while staring at me shamelessly.
Through the wire fence surrounding the run down house he was probably living in, his deep brown eyes found mine and sent chills down my spine.
In the beginning – when I started to notice his stares – I would always pretend not to be aware of his presence and walked past his house, concentrating on either staring straight ahead or talking to one of the kids. By now things have changed and I just returned his intense gaze. The second I walked completely past him I would turn my head around and he would look after me to lock gazes again, until I was too far ahead on the street and could hardly make out his silhouette anymore.
Somehow this boy had managed to capture my mind. The two of us were linked through an unsaid agreement, every day I would take the kids to the playground, taking the same route past his house, and every day he would be sitting on the steps, waiting for me while smoking a cig. For inexplicable reasons these few minutes achieved to become the highlight of my day. I couldn’t explain to myself why though. Maybe I simply enjoyed his good looks or maybe his urge to look at me with these indefinable deep stares every time I walked past him, made me feel beautiful and wanted, even if my hair was sweaty and sticking to my head and I had stains of dirt all over my clothes from babysitting all day.
I knew these two things played along, but being completely honest with myself I had to admit that the most viable reason seemed to be the dangerous radiances surrounding him. Danger was something I never had to cope with in my snobby guarded housing estate. Not in the private school I attended all live long, nor amongst my selected group of friends, who of course all came from wealthy families. My parents always had an eye on me and made sure that I evolved to a smart and good girl, who never broke the rules and made them proud. I was a flawless showpiece, the perfectly working subject, who was viewless and not in possession of own willingness, created under the pressure of my parents.
Danger portrayed a completely new sensation for me, which I wanted to experience desperately.
And this boy impersonated danger.

All beginnings are difficult

Edgar Allen Poe had always been my favourite author. Many people would disagree and think of his stories as morbid and weird, for me on the other hand these seemingly odd writings were masterpieces, touching me deep in my soul. As always I got completely lost in his stories and every now and then I had to force my eyes to look away from the pages and watch out for the kids. Letting my gaze roam around the playground, I quickly counted them and put my mind at rest as I saw all out of the group happily playing. Lilly and Thomas laughed at me from the sand box and with a short wave towards them, I gave my attention back to Edgars’ tale.

Maybe I could also become an author one day. For sure my parents wouldn’t be as pleased as if I would choose to become a doctor or a lawyer, but I guessed they wouldn’t mind as long as I wrote for important magazines and didn’t bring disgrace to my family’s name. I could write for The New York Times or Forbes Magazine. Writing about politics and becoming an external correspondent who worked all over the world and travelled to different places, suddenly seemed like the most interesting thing to do. It would offer the chance to witness something exciting and exceptionally for once in my life. I could escape Chicago. I could escape my parents.
Too deep in thoughts I didn’t notice the person taking a seat on the bench next to me.
“When do you finish?”
A small scream escaped my lips and the shock let me jolt at the sudden question directed towards me. Looking to my right I found no other than the boy from down the road.
A cigarette was hanging loose between his lips while he was reaching into his pocket for a lighter. Completely overwhelmed I stared at his features as he light up the fag and took a strong puff, inhaling the fume deeply before blowing the cloud of smoke out of his mouth in one slow motion.
“Cat got your tongue?” he finally turned his head towards me and bestowed me with an utterly unimpressed face.
“Uhm n-no… I mean… Please pardon my impolite behaviour. You had me frightened.” Mentally growing at that stupid and highly lofty remark I turned my head towards the kids, using my responsibility to watch out for them as an excuse to avoid his intimidating sight.
I have never seen him this close before. Even without looking in his direction my body was more than aware of his presence. It froze in fear and excitement, all at once, my skin burning where our arms nearly touched. The heat radiating from his torso let my skin form goose bumps and my mouth seemed to become as dry as I imagined it to be after walking through a desert for days without water.
In conflict with myself, I considered whether I should do what I have been told from a young age, in other words to just get up and leave the stranger, or if I should risk another glimpse and continue the conversation to see where it lead. For some reason I couldn’t fight the feeling in my guts and I decided to just go with it. Persuading myself with the argument that he basically isn’t a complete stranger, I eased the yelling warnings in my head and turned around to observe him in depth for the first time.
It wasn’t much of a surprising for me that he was wearing all black. Apparently he liked his clothes black and torn up, one of the many things I learned from our short encounters over the past weeks. Neither the less I had to ask myself how he was able to bear the heat in black skinny jeans and a black shirt.
The sweat was forming pools in my armpits, in the crook of my arms, at the backside of my knees where my tights changed to my calves. Simply at every inch where skin was touched by other parts of skin, hair, the material of clothes or even worse the sun. I was sweating like a pig, while he was sitting on this bench, looking like he jumped out of Teen Vogue’s latest edition, absolutely stunning and unimpressed by anything.
As my eyes wandered further up his body they came to a sudden halt at his arms. They were too defined to presume he wasn’t doing any sports and I wondered how he shaped them to their current state. Was he lifting? No, I didn’t see him as somebody who would go to the gym or lift at home in their cellar. Maybe he was a boxer – that would fit. Or he joined his school’s swimming team. At the thought of school’s athletic clubs I couldn’t restrain a frown forming my face. Who knew if he even attended school, and if he did his school most likely didn’t even have sport clubs. He didn’t look like the type to attend a school where it was all about cheerleaders and football jocks, but more like somebody who would smoke a blunt on the toilet and sell Speed during lunchtime. He probably wouldn’t even smoke at the toilet but in the middle of the hallways or why not going the whole hog and smoke in the teacher’s lounge, relaxing in the principal’s big armchair, tapping the ash of his joint onto the dark brown leather, which acquired a strange smell over the years.
Nearly unnoticeable for him I shook my head lightly and tried to get rid of the unstoppable word-vomit welling up in my mind again. I sometimes wondered if I was going crazy, the stuff going on in my mind being the first symptom. But in the end it didn’t matter.
My eyes travelled further up the boy’s body, roaming over his neck and his impressively strong jawline. For a short amount of time my gaze lingered a little longer than necessary on his lips, which he of course noticed. A smirk played around the corners of his plumb mouth, which somehow lead me to smile back; I couldn’t help it.
Once reaching the crown of his head I admired his thick brown hair, looking ever so soft, now I could see it as a close up. Wandering down again my eyes found his and I couldn’t fail to notice his pulled-up eyebrow.
“Well?” The world lingered in my ears as soon as it fell silent after leaving his mouth and my head turned an unhealthy shade of purple as I noticed that I was staring at the boy without answering him for a few solid minutes.
“I shall finish around six o’clock.” Not sure what he intended to do with this information it was more a whisper leaving my mouth than a statement.
“Great. Meet me at the back door.” He flicked his cig to the ground before stepping on it and getting up from the bench.
“What… but..?” What did he mean, ‘meet me at the back door’, I couldn’t meet up with him, I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me. Why would he like to meet up?
“Oi girl, conversations aren’t ya thing, are they? Geez, you heard what I said.” His dark clothes displayed a strong contrast to the burning sunlight, catching itself in his hair from behind. He appeared dangerous and angelic all at once, leaving me wonderstruck in his presence.
“Yes, of course.”
“Dope. Later, mother Teresa.”

When the real trouble began.

Another minute has passed by. I was sitting at the centre’s kitchen table, starring at the clock on the wall in front of me, my eyes following the second hand’s every move. It was three minutes to six o’clock and the anxiety welling up in my body got more and more by every second passing by. I thought about waiting a little longer and leaving the house a few minutes delayed, to seem a little less piteously, but to be honest I was afraid of that guy and I didn’t want to annoy him. That was if he was even outside.

At six o’clock to the minute I gathered my stuff together and shouted a short goodbye to my colleagues, before escaping through the back door.
He was leaning against a black motorbike, the significant cig hanging between his lips. My knees felt like jelly as I started to walk towards him.
His brown eyes stared intensely into my green ones, intimidating me. Once there were only a few inches left between our sweaty bodies he outstretched his arm to shove a black helmet into my chest.
“Come on princess, we’re going for a ride.” He took one last puff before snatching his cigarette to the ground and swung one of his legs over the shiny black metal of his bike.
I thought about declining his offer, but instead looked one last time to my left and my right, to make sure nobody saw me as I pulled the helmet over my head. It has been darned hot without the soft material clinging around my face, but with the protection on my head I felt like my brain would explode any second due to overheating.
I ignored he sweat running down my back and slung my arms around his body as he started the ignition and speed down the road. Through the thin material of his shirt I could feel his toned stomach and had to supress the urge to spread my fingers and let them glide under his shirt to touch his skin where it was hot and sticky from sweat.
The whole ride I was sitting still, pressed against the boys back, wondering where he would take me. I can’t tell how long we rode down the streets, until he stopped at the end of an alley way.
I took off the helmet and shook my head, to detach the wet sweaty strands of hair from my neck. Looking around I came to the conclusion that nothing worth riding this far was around and I wondered if it had been a good idea to trust a stranger who’s name I wasn’t even aware of. All of the self-defense methods I ever heard of suddenly flooded my head and my mind was making up scenes of how I could escape in case of emergency. Just as I was thinking about the pepper spray I had at home and why I never took it with me, I felt a touch on my hand.
I looked down to notice that he was slowly intertwining his fingers with mine, before pulling me after him and leading the way. I was staring at the back of his dark locks, while a warm tingly feeling spread in the pit of my stomach.
We were heading towards what looked like an abandoned house, passed its squeaky door and made our way upstairs, stopping in front of a little skylight.
He let go of my hand to wipe away the cobwebs and suddenly my palm felt cold and lonely.
“C’mere.” His words were only a whisper in my ear, as he pulled me in his embrace. For a short amount of time I was just standing there inside his arms, but after a few seconds he lifted me up and helped me to reach the edges of the skylight and pull myself through it.
He followed soon after, keeping me company on the housetop.
“Why would you bring me here?” I looked at him with a questioning expression, my eyebrows furrowed together.
“Cos of this.” Spinning around towards the direction he was pointing, my jaw dropped.
We seemingly drove onto some kind of hill and what I saw in front of me was breath taking. The sun was setting and between the red, purple and darkening sky you could make out a few single stars and Chicago’s lights emerging little by little.
“It is amazing.”
“I supposed you’d dig it.”
I turned around to find him staring at me. It was even more intriguing as all the other times our gazed caught each other and the sudden amount of tension building up between us was ridiculous.
He took a few steps closer until our bodies nearly touched, taking a seat to my feet. I took a place next to him and enjoyed the sensation of the spectacular scene above Chicago and the pins and needles tingling in my body caused through him.
“I come here quite a lot.” He was the first to break the comfortable silence, which enveloped me like a safe refuge, preventing me from saying or doing something stupid to mess up the situation and burst my bubble of a possible ‘us’. With speaking up he took me lifeline away and I fell into cold water, struggling to keep my head over water and save myself from drowning.
“It is indeed quite a stunning place.”
“You can cut the act, ya know? You don’t have to be like that in front of me. Loosen up a little, mother Teresa.”
He was cocking his head a little and a small smile played on his lips, as he pushed his elbow playfully into my side. I couldn’t help myself but let a few giggles escape my mouth.
It was bubbling up in my body and it was as if I overcrowded with laughter. It started slow and soft but was quickly building up until I was roaring with laughter. Tears were forming in the corner of my eyes and rolled down my cheeks, as I was laughing as if it was a matter of life. I carried him along and the melodic sound of his deep smooth laughs filled my ears and my heart with joy. I imagined seeing him laughing weird – him leaving the whole untouchable, uncaring and tough bad boy act for a few seconds – but the smile on his face let the discolouring sky seem like a dull grey sight.
Never before have I been as boisterous as in this moment, but also never before somebody had allowed me to be myself and to not keep up any appearances.

Falling for him hook, line and sinker.

We spent hours on this rooftop; laughing, talking about everything that float our minds, admiring our surroundings, me admiring him.

“… well and that’s basically how I ended up in CCCS.”
“Sounds like your rents expect a lot of shit from you.” From the corner of my eye I could see him raise his hand towards his lips, the ash glowing orange as he took a deep puff, and blowing up thick grey clouds of smoke into the air. We were both lying on our backs, our bodies nearly touching lengthways, faces towards the stars.
“Yeah, I suppose that’s true. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“How are your parents like?”
He didn’t answer. That was it. That was me drowning because of my own stupidity. That was my bubble bursting. I asked something too personal and he shut down.
I already saw him getting up and leaving me here, thinking about my stupid mistake, as a cough interrupted my thoughts.
“I’m sorry. I don’t really talk about my folks a lot.”
“You… you don’t have to. I shouldn’t have asked. I am sorry.” I was nearly stumbling over my own words as I attempted to press them out as fast as I could, trying to save the situation.
“No. I want to tell you, you should know it.” After a short pause he spoke up again. “Steve, my father, left when I was about a year old. Apparently the ‘life as a Dad’ was too much responsibility for him so he decided to do a runner with our camper while my mom went grocery shopping with me.
My mom, Valerie, is a drug addict. After Steve left we used to live at one of his friend’s couch, until Val found a new job – you might not even call it a job. She was dancing in a club and particularly sold her body to the customers as a return for drugs. A few years ago she got kicked out of the club, they told her she’s overaged and nobody wants to see her sagged breast anymore, which was kind of true. But after all she kept her ‘customers’ and as long as she still gets her pills, she doesn’t bother about anything else. She’s mostly sleeping out. I suppose she also gets food after she fucked them, but I don’t really know. Val’s not around a lot, but if she’s always high and only stops by to ask for money.
I also have an older brother, Alex. He busted his ass off and got a scholarship for university. He made it. He escaped South Side, but for me it’s already too late.” I still tried to handle his words as he felt the need to add an apology.
“Sorry, Teresa, I didn’t want to freak you out.”
“You didn’t.” Ever so slow my fingers grazed his and I intertwined my hand with his big one, before timidly rolling my head down to face him and admire his profile. “And it’s never too late.”
I don’t know whether he reacted to my words or my hand squeezing his, but he tore his eyes away from the stars above and gazed into my face.
“You nearly make me believe it.” His voice was barely above a whisper as his thumb stroke over the back of my hand in his and his eyes wandered between my eyes and my lips.
I could almost feel his breath on my lips, while my body began to shiver in edginess.
“And my name isn’t Teresa. It’s Y/N” I wasn’t sure if I even spoke out the words or if he could hear them, that’s how faint they escaped my lips.
“I know.” That was all I could make out before my world was set on fire, as his plumb lips met mine for the first time.
It brought the sweat to my brows at how intensive I perceived this one kiss, how my body reacted. Before this kiss I wasn’t even aware of all the feelings and sensations my body sealed away from me for all these years, it felt like I haven’t been feeling ever before.
His right hand was still having a tight hold of mine, as his left one found its way to my face and the tips of his fingers stroke down my face, before pulling me closer. My body pressed into his and screamed for more. I wanted to drown in him and opened my mouth allowing him to invade my body. His tongue slipped past my lips and teeth, touching mine briefly before heading back. I was in need of more and my tongue followed his, creating a rhythm between the both of us.  
My life got turned upside down, as he planted those kisses on my lips - those kisses that would change everything.
My life, my future, myself.

I arrived at home around 1am this night. I was clinging to his back - my hands found their way under his shirt a long time ago and were spread over the hot skin of his stomach – as he stopped the bike’s engine. He escorted me to the big white double door, which lead inside my frightfully expensive and equally subcooled home. Bending down for one last peck onto my lips, he let go of my hand and I had to open my eyes way too soon, as my heart was still swollen inside my chest and my lips were still prickling from the soft touch of his.
“Ridiculously enough I still don’t know your name.”
The smirk forming on his lips let his usual stern look soften and he pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, while looking to the ground and back up at my face again.
“It’s Calum. Calum Hood.”
“Well, will I see you again Calum?” A smile played on my lips, but it was hardly there out of amusement, more to outplay my vulnerability and sorrow of rejection.
“Of course. You’ll see me tomorrow. From now on, you’ll see me every day, Y/N.”
My hand was placed on his cheek as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against mine.
He pecked my lips once more before stepping back and heading down the front porch towards his bike, leaving me to return back inside my home, a place I secretly feared.
The doorknob was already placed in my hand and I was about to let this night end, risking to blend the days into each other and be left with nothing but the memory tomorrow morning.
I looked back over my shoulder and saw his figure get swallowed by the dark of the night.
“Calum, wait.”
“Yeah?” He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face me again.
“Why me?” The question has lingered on my tongue for weeks and it finally found its way from my mind out of my mouth.
“What do you mean?” A trace of confusion built up on his face and I took a deep breath before repeating my concern more precisely.
“Why me out of all people? I don’t know why you chose me.”
“Neither do I. It is how it is.”

With that I was left wondering what was so special about me after all.

Golden days and rose-coloured glasses.

„Stop no Cal, I’ll fall!“ Loud shrieks escaped my mouth as I gripped my hands around the handlebar of Calum’s bike.  
I could make out his melodic laugh from behind before I felt him press a soft kiss on my shoulder.
“Trust me Y/N you won’t fall, I’ve got you.”
Gulping one last time I pressed the gas pedal together and the bike started to speed forward in jerky leaps.
Hot and muggy air lashed into my face and brought tears to my eyes due to the open aventail. They rolled back over my face and mixed somewhere on my skin with the stains of sweat, but I didn’t care. For once in my life I had the power. It wasn’t much - it was singly the control over an overaged rusty motorbike, but none the less it made me feel great. I had the power to decide where to go, how fast to get there and if we would get there at all. Nobody had power over me, but I had control over myself and over somebody else, not the other way around as usual. If I wanted to go full speed and decided to keep going straight during the next turn to crash into the wall ahead, he wouldn’t be able to change it. I had the power.
It made me feel alive.

And that was exactly the thing about Calum Thomas Hood – he made me feel alive. Those past two weeks had been the most incredible and vivid time of my life all because of him, although we never really did something really extraordinary.Most of our days consisted in him already waiting for me after my shift at the CCCS and we ended up driving around on his bike looking for some abandoned place. Since the heat wave was still going strong in Chicago it was way too hot to be active in any kind of way, so we would mostly just chill and talk for hours, while looking at the stars as the night was falling down, and with every single leaving his mouth I only fell harder for Calum.  I guess it’s a rear thing that people coming from two completely different vicinities, living worlds apart, could identify themselves with each other on so many levels as the both of us.  I was intrigued with him and our talks, because with every day passing by and every conversation we had I felt like I came a little closer to Calum, like I pulled off another layer, slowly breaking through his walls and getting him to quit the bad boy act to be more himself nightly.
And of course there was also always a lot of snogging involved.
To put it short with Calum all bets were off. The touch of his hand when he grabbed mine made my body go on fire, his simple laugh let me feel a tingling sensation in my head and every undertaking he talked me into made me feel rebellious and purposeful.
He has only been around for two weeks, yet in those days he has done more for me than anybody else in my entire life

“Where are you taking me Theresa?” Calum let his hand, which presumably former rested on the back handle, glide around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder. Despite I told him my real name weeks ago he still liked to use the initial nickname. I’ve once asked him why that is, but he just shook his head with laughter and told me that was just how he had always pictured me: a saint, pure.
“Let yourself be surprised, bad boy.”  Soft laughter resounded and his hot breath hitting the skin under my ear let me shiver.
“Take the handlebar.” I tried to shout back to him over the wind’s loud howling, but the speed seemed to swallow up my voice and I tried to point descriptive at the bike.
Cal seemed to understand and grabbed the handle so that I could release it. I placed my hand over his right one and twisted it nearer towards us, indicating him to go on full speed. I pushed the ventail upwards and let the wind whip into my face. As tears began to form in my eyes I rested my head against Calum’s chest, closing my eyes and stretching my hands to the side. He really made me feel like flying.

I could feel the chilling of the wind fading and opened my eyes, only to find Cal pulling onto a small forest path. We’ve been here a few nights before and I knew exactly where this way leaded us.
With a few metres of distance to the big pond emerging at the end of the path, Calum stopped the bike and looped his arms around me after pulling off his and my helmet.
“I love these kinda days, ya know.” He whispered into my ear while intertwining his fingers with mine, resting both of our hands on my stomach.
My head turned around to face him, probably looking like scarecrow with my hair somehow managing it to stick to my sweaty head and out in every direction at the same time, but I knew he didn’t matter.
“Hmmm… What kind of days?” My eyes found his and for the first time I noticed that if I was looking close enough I could make out small crinkles emerge in the angles of his eyes as a playful but genuine smile  formed on his lips.
“The days I get to spend with you.”
“Cheesy.”  A small chuckle escaped my lips as I laughed at his unbelievably cute but equally corny remark. As I softly pushed his shoulder back, he pretended to fall from the bike and carry me with him but stopped the both of us last second, for which he conversely earned a dark glare.
“Only for you, Y/N.” He let his lips brush over mine and gave me one sweet peck before pulling away and getting up from the bike, stretching out one of his hands for me to grab and follow him.
He raised his hand to the sky and whirled me around under his arm one time, humming a unfamiliar beat, before catching me in his embrace.
“May I have this dance, milady?”
“Well of course, milord.” He giggly placed a kiss on the back of my hand before pulling me back against his torso and started to hum again.
My head rested in the angle of his neck as we were swaying back and forth to the slow rhythm he created. I felt like dancing on clouds with my feet sinking into the wet moos surrounding the pond.
“You’ve got a beautiful voice. I never knew you can sing.”
“I used to be in a band.” I couldn’t quite make out why but somehow his voice managed to sound deeper and colder as he stated this fact completely new to me.
“Oh really, why used to? Did you guys split up?” It probably wasn’t my best idea to ask him about his band, but as I noticed his grip getting a little tighter and his body stiffer it was already too late to make my words unsaid
“Yeah.” The word was pressed out between his lips, nearly spat in anger.
I knew I should drop the theme and leave it like that, but curiosity got its best of me once again and I just had to step a little more forward. My parents had always considered curiosity one of my worst character attributes, but I never quite understood why. In my opinion curiosity was essential – it made me question things and stopped me from being satisfied with only half of an answer or half of the truth. In the end it did say ‘Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back’ – sadly most people forgot about that last part.
“Why so?”
“I don’t really wanna talk ‘bout it.”
“Did something bad happen?” I couldn’t contain myself from asking one more time as we whirled around through the moos.
“Let’s just say the other boys stumbled over more important stuff to worry about. Got it?”
“Sure, sorry.”
“It looks like it’s about to rain. We probably should head home.”Only now I noticed the cold wind blowing through the trees and goose bumps formed on my skin as a shiver ran down my body. Knitting my eyebrows together in disbelief I raised my head towards the sky and to my amazement I noticed dark black clouds hanging above us, looking ready to release the rain they were holding and everybody was so desperately waiting for.

Coming apart the seams.

“Run.” Calum shouted as soon as he turned off the motor of the bike. He took my hand and pulled me right after him onto the patio of his house and pushed the door open with one hard jolt. The obviously unnecessity to cope with keys to open the shabby and broke door, appeared kind of unsafe to me, but in my soaking wet state I was more than glad to be rain sheltered as quick as possible. Of course we didn’t make it back to the city fast enough to escape the storm and by now we were both soaked and shivering form head to toe.
“Come on let’s go upstairs.” Cal nodded his head towards the staircase and I followed slowly as I let my gaze roam around his home for the first time.

The passage to the kitchen was blocked by a black bin bag overflown with empty pizza boxes and Chinese take away boxes. The counter was piled with dirty dishes and empty to half empty beer and wine bottles, one of them had fallen over and created a puddle of alcohol on the brown tile floor. On the other side of the staircase I could catch a small glimpse of the living area, which’s focal point was a shady green sofa covered in various indefinable stains and fag burns all over it. An old TV was placed on a small glass table in front of it, a various show flickering over the screen, the significant empty beer bottles once again placed over the glass’ spare spots. On the sofa’s armrest was an ashtray placed, a half finished white smoked resting in it, which in my opinion didn’t look like a normal cigarette.
Other than that there wasn’t much to see in Cal’s home. Not because it wouldn’t be interesting enough to talk about, but rather because there was nothing else there, no more furniture, no pictures, nothing that made this place feel like a home. I followed him up the stairs and entered a small corridor with three doors.

“That’s my brother Alex’ room, well it was when he still used to live here… and that’s the bathroom if you need it” He pointed to a closed door and pushed the other one open, revealing it to me before we took a halt in front of the door right across the bathroom. He took a deep breath before grasping for the handle and pushing it down.
“And that’s my room.”
He looked at me in a rather inviting manner so I took a step past him to enter his room and have a closer look. As soon as I entered it a wave of surprise washed over my body, observing that his room was startling tidy and organised compared to the rest of the house. The walls were painted navy blue, not one single picture or poster decorating them. Under the small window stood a desk, a black lamp, a book and various writing stuff placed on it. The rest of the room was occupied by his bed covered in white sheets, pushed against one wall, and opposite of it stood a dresser where he supposedly stored his clothes, a framed picture standing on top of it. Knowing that I might cross another line I stepped closer towards the picture and let my hand glide over the frame, observing his face as I did so. Neither his jawline hardened nor his eyes became a shade darker which normally displayed his rising anger, thus I took the frame and allowed myself to have a closer look. It was an old picture, the colours nearly turned to white, that’s how faded it was. It showed a man who was presumptively Calum’s father, since he looked a lot like him, smiling down at a black haired, rather stunning woman. The woman was holding a baby in her arms and had a small boy to her feet, all four persons on the picture looking insanely happy. Not until now I noticed the surrounding of the family; they were standing in front of a small but nice house with a beautifully trimmed garden, nothing like the house Calum was living in now.
I wondered how he must feel, waking up every morning starring at this picture of his family, being happy and doing okay, and having to wonder daily how his life would have turned out if his father hadn’t left the family. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop myself – for the first time I sincerely pitied him.  
“You look nervous.” I stated as placed the picture back on its spot and faced him again.
“There’s never been a girl in my room.” He somewhat looked ashamed as he gave away his secret to me, breaking our gazes and looking down at his shoes. I wasn’t used to him acting shy and had to suppress the smile forming on my lips.
“I am glad to be the first one.” I took a step towards him and took his left hand in mine, bringing it up to my lips to place a small kiss on each of his knuckles, until he looked up at me again.
“Ya probably want to change.” Opening his dresser he pulled out one of his torn up black muscle shirts and dark grey sweat pants, the clothes crumbled together carelessly, placing them into my hands.
“You can stay here, I’ll use the pot.”
With that he pulled out some clothes for himself before leaving me my private space to change.

I was glad that he had left me alone, so I could peel out of my drained clothes, clinging to my body because of the mixture of rain and sweat. My body had a strange smell sticking to it, a mix of fresh rain and nature and the sweet sourish odour of my own, seemingly odd and loathly.
I was wearing a skirt and began stripping it down, the piece effortlessly falling to the ground, creating a circle around my feet. As I wanted to strip my shirt off my body, I struggled while the wet material stuck to my forehead and its strap somehow managed to tangle into my hair.
I began to drag and tear to finally crow over the piece of cloth and when my vision was clear again it fell straight ahead – through the narrow gap of the slightly opened door into the room across the hall. My gaze caught itself on Calum’s, meeting in the smeared mirror in front of him.
His eyes held mine captive for a solid minute before he averted my gaze and let his one travel down my body. Ever so slow his eyes wandered deeper down my figure, observing every inch of my exposed body, only covered with underwear. I began to feel somewhat uncomfortable and vulnerable but I wasn’t able to react to those emotions as Cal’s jawline suddenly hardened and he turned around, walking straight towards me, wearing nothing but a pair of olive boxer briefs.
His sight held mine as he pushed the door open and closed the gap separating us.
Due to his hard facial expression and his tensed muscles I expected him to crash his lips onto mine fiercely, but instead he let his hands glide over my face and cheeks, softly down the sides of my body and letting them rest on my hips while he placed his lips for a small peck onto mine.
For some reason his actions drove me more insane than a hot and dominant one could ever have and I felt myself urging for his kiss. Leaning in I linked our lips once more and got lost in the familiar motions of our mouths moving together. My hands reached upwards, tangling themselves in the back of his neck, like always finding their place in the curve of his neck, where his backbone and hairline met. Ever since our first encounter my mind went crazy thinking about his soft black hair between my fingers, and not once had reality ruined my imagination from back then, his hair glided through my fingers like black silk.
My hands were shaking as I untangled them from the short locks and wandered further down his body, feeling his skin under my touch for the first time. I gingerly draw with my finger over his left shoulder, then over his right, taking my time. My nails drew various shapes between his shoulder blades, before I let the tip of my finger dance down his spine, hardly touching the hot skin while sending shivers down his back.
He never got more urgent. His lips pressed a little harder against mine and his fingers buried themselves in the flesh of my hips, but he never got any faster or pushed me. He took his time.
And he made me feel precious in his arms.
“You are beautiful, Y/N.” The hot air of his whisper hit the skin underneath my ear and caused me to press my legs together. He placed his mouth over the spot where his breath had warmed my skin, as if he tried to savour the warmth on my body. His lips glided along my neck, placing little kisses everywhere on their journey down to my collarbone. I could feel his fingers leave the skin on my sides, only to be reconnected with my shoulder, cautiously gliding under the strap of my bra.
“May I?” Once more my body reacted to his lips humming over my skin and it formed goose bumps under his breath painting it.
A shaky breath escaped my lips as my head fell back into my neck. My eyes were closed and my mind and body were solely concentrated on Calum’s touch. I nodded my head slightly in approvement, not knowing if Cal actually noticed it or took my silence as affirmation, but neither the less he placed the strap between his pointer and middle finger, letting his palm glide down my upper arm, slowly undressing me as he repeated the exact same movement on my other side.
I felt cold and lonely as the heat of his body wasn’t there anymore, when he took a step back and disconnected himself from me.
Without his touch on my skin reality broke over me like a stroke to the stomach and a rush of uncomfortableness suddenly hounded through my body.
I was standing there in my panties, naked for the first time ever in front of somebody else than my mother and doctor, and the need to cover my bareness grew stronger by every second of him looking at me.
My hands shot up to cover my chest and my head fell forwards, the wet streaks of my hair building a curtain in front of my heated face.
“Don’t.” The tips of Cal’s fingers glided over my arm as he tried to show the unnecessity of my embarrassment, but I still refused to let go.
“What’s suddenly wrong with you? Talk to me.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but the pleading rang through to my ears.
“It’s… It’s just uhm… “, I have never been one to be at a loss for words, but I didn’t know how to surround my thought by words without sounding pathetic. “I am afraid.”
I looked up into the face I grew to love over these last days and found a frown taking place between his eyebrows, confusion clearly present in his eyes.
“I don’t know, of doing something wrong.” I threw my hands in the air before letting them glide thorough my wet hair in a desperate gesture. “Of being not good enough for you. I.. it’s… You are my first Calum.”
We have never talked about it, but it didn’t take much to figure out that Cal had already been with a lot of women. I felt it in every touch of his, he knew exactly where to place his hands, how to move, what to do. He was experienced, and I was not.
I didn’t mind him having other girls before me, I really didn’t. As said that was before me and I had no problem with this circumstances. What was my problem was the possibility of failure, of disappointing him and of losing him afterwards.
I could feel him placing his finger under my chin, forcing me to look up as he lifted his hand.
“Y/N. You already are better than everything I ever had. I am honoured to be your first.”
I searched in his eyes for any sights of dishonest or parody, but all I could see was tenderness and something I couldn’t quite make out, nearly seeming like love.
“Say you’ll remember me.”
Calum let his finger glide from under my chin to my cheek, where he rested it before softly caressing my cheek with his thumb. I allowed myself to cock my head to the side and rested it in the palm of his hand, closing my eyes.
Even before I could feel his forehead lean against mine, I felt tension build up in the air again and my stomach doing twists, as he took a step closer again, trying to close the gap between our bodies once more.
“I promise. Forever.” His words pushed me over the edge, leaving all doubts and worries behind. I was ready to give Calum every little piece of me, my mind, my body, my heart.
I got up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his plumb pair. With my heart beating on full speed I reached down between our bodies and stripped my panties off, letting them fall onto the wet wooden floor, where puddles of water were forming to our feet due to the rain dropping off our bodies.
Cal followed my actions and let his last piece of clothing join the ones spread out on the floor. I didn’t dare to look down and observe him in all his glory, but the lone feeling of his boner pressed against my stomach made me feel week to my knees, forcing me to put my hands on his shoulders to prevent me from falling.
The sweet kisses shared between us soon got more intense and lead us back to something I wouldn’t call a make out session but more classify as sharing love. His big hands, rough from probably getting himself worked up with his bike, stroke down over my bare backside, fitting perfectly into the curve where my butt changed over into my tights, as if it was solely created to lay there. Effortlessly he lifted me up and stumbled through his small room until his legs hit the edge of his bed. He took care to not let me fall and carefully placed both of our naked bodies on his bed, him on top of mine.
Thoughtfully he lifted my back and pulled the covers out from under my body, placing them over us to give me a small bit of guardedness, making me feel at ease with my nakedness.

Amongst Calum shove my legs open and placed one around his waist we suddenly heard the front door open, followed by a loud noise.
He simply ignored it but my mind suddenly was clouded with the fear of getting caught in the act.
“Calum, what was that sound?”
“Just Val coming home. Ignore it.” He hushed the words out while placing kisses all over my neck, but I couldn’t convince myself to concentrate solely on him again.
As the sound of shattering glass and a male voice got through upstairs he lifted his head with a frown on his forehead. Listening concentrated an expression of wonder replaced his former confused and alerted one.
“That’s my brother… What’s Alex doin’ her- Oi shit, what the fuck!“ A loud shot ringing through the house cut him off mid-sentence, bringing him to jump up from the bed and grabbing the sweatpants, former destined for me, off the floor while cursing under his breath.
Bending over my body lying exposed on his bed, he stroke over my hair and pressed a kiss on my lips before whispering to me accompanied by a determinative stare.
“I’m so sorry Y/N.”
I just nodded my head and buried it under the sheets, remaining in fear.

Calum’s POV

I sprinted down the stairs, nearly tripping over a few empty bottles spread out on the floor. At the bottom of the staircase I found my mom and brother shouting at each other, him carrying a gun and her with tears running down her face. A few years ago her appearance would have shocked me; smeared make up on her face, her hair in knots, her panty hose torn apart and her shirt riven by moths. But nowadays, I was used to it. I was all too well aware off her fucked up state of mind and her self-destructively behaviour to be startled. What was surprising me on the other hand was the sight of my brother. Big purple shades were forming on his cheek and under his eye, a cut extended from his eyebrow up his forehead and blood ran out of his mouth. Apparently he got into a fight and the question was: why would he? He was a college student with a scholarship and there was no explanation for his condition coming to my mind, nor one why he was at home. He hasn’t been since he started college three years ago.  

“What the fuck is going on? Alex you fucking asshole put that gun away!” I’d loved nothing better than to shout at the top of my lungs at the last two people I considered family, but I knew better than to unsettle Y/N who was still upstairs.
“Don’t dare you little shit call me an asshole when our stupid whore of a mother stole my shit!” His voice roared through the halls, destroying my attempt to save my girl the trouble.
“You shitty bastard, I brought you to live, the least you could do is repay your old mother since you left us for that fucking better live of yours.” The words loudly slurred out of my mother’s mouth and the little fresh circular marks on her arms confirmed her once again high state, on whatever drug it was this week.
“Valerie shut the fuck up.” Alex lifted his arm once again, pointing the gun at my mom.
It was a stupid move but I didn’t know how else to stop him and thus I tackled him to the ground, falling on top of his body and pressing his hands to the floor above his head.
Valerie took this opportunity and disappeared through the back door as fast as possible, probably taking shelter in one of her ‘customers’ flats.

A sigh escaped my lips and I rolled to the side, resting on the floor next to Alex.
I could hear steps in the hallway above us and as I turned around I found Y/N running down the stairs, my heart bursting at the horrified look on her face.

“What was that sound? Calum are you okay?” Tears were streaming down her face as she saw me lying on the floor next to my brother, breathing heavily with some of his blood smeared over my shirt. She must have thought I got hurt during a fight with him and I hated myself for putting her through this fucked up situation. That was the exact reason why I was afraid of speaking to her for weeks. The reason why I was just sitting on my front porch, admiring her from afar and forbidding myself to talk to her. Even though I didn’t know her back then I wanted to protect her. She was too pure and too innocent, too special and precious for somebody like me.  She deserved better than this. Better than me.
“Take my bike and drive home. I’ll come later.” I got up and pressed my keys into the palm of her hand, placing a hard kiss on her lips and inhaling her scent one last time before shushing her out the door and let her go. Shutting the door behind her I took a few steps back and took a seat on the stairs, staring intensely at my brother.

“She stole it.” He gritted the words out between his teeth.
“She always steals money, get over it college boy.”
“Oi, what?!”
“That bitch stole my meth.”
“God damn Alex, get over it and buy another gram. I didn’t even know ya still into that shit.” I shook my head with a smile on my face, laughing at my brother and out of some sick reason feeling happy that he was still doing drugs and hasn’t completely lost his inner South Side bad boy in college.
“I don’t do it, I sell it.”
The smile fell from my face.
“Alex, no. Why would ya do this? Fuck man, you got outta here ‘nd you’ve got a future ahead don’t ruin shit!”
“I already did ruin it.” He turned his head to face me and shock overcame my body at the sight of his glassy eyes, tears welling up in them. “I lost my scholarship. I started dealing again to come up for the college fees.”
“Please tell me you’re not dealing for them?”
Silence cut through the room and confirmed my biggest fear. Over him they found their way back into my live.
Michael, Ashton and Luke were back.
“Val stole about half a dozen. I bet with a look at my face you can tell what they did as they found out. I’m lucky they still consider you as their friend and show some kind of loyalty towards you, otherwise they would have cut my throat open. I’ve got three days to pay them back.”
“Fuck Alex… I hate you for making me do this - I’ve got your back.”
His eyes bored into mine, holding relief but also confusion, debating if I had gone insane to promise him my support. I got back up on my feet, outstretching my hand towards him.
“Don’t act surprised. While ya went to college those last years I was still hangin’ round this shitty place. Even if you forgot where ya from, I didn’t. We are brothers. We are from South Side. It’s an unwritten law. That’s what we do.”
A smirk formed on Alex’ face, as he gladly accepted my outstretched hand to let me pull him up again.
We hugged each other and patted our backs before I spoke up again with a big grin on my face and playful madness evident in my voice.
“Now drive me to my girl’s. You shithead ruined my chance of getting laid.”

To be honest I would have preferred a rather silent drive, but sadly we didn’t have much time and we had to think about a plan to come up with the money for my former band-mates. We were absolutely fucked. Robbing something was too hot considering my criminal records, selling weed which was my main income during summer months wouldn’t make enough money fast enough and stealing and reselling a car wouldn’t pass off in time. We ran out of options and more importantly out of time.
The drive passed without an upcoming solution as I guided my brother the way to Y/N’s house. I was biting my nails the whole time and smoked about half a pack to calm myself down, anxious to see her again and explain the whole situation.I just have never felt the way I feel for her before. Risking to sound cliché and stupid I have to say she makes me want to be a better person and for the first time in my life I was ashamed of my origins. I knew she would never judge me because of my family home, she wasn’t like that, but I definitely didn’t want to be driving to her house in the middle of the night to explain why my brother tried to shoot my mother. I wanted to be her shoulder to lean on, the person she would come to when she had problems or fears, not the person that caused the problems in her perfect world.I snipped the ash of my cig out of the window and nodded my head towards the left to announce her house’s entry to Alex. He pulled to the side in front of the gate, parking half on the sidewalk of the expensive neighbourhood.
I loosened my seatbelt and checked my pocket for my phone once more before reaching for the handle, wanting nothing more than to leave this car and be in her arms again.
Alex speaking up stopped me.
“That’s it.”
“Hm?” In thoughts I was already in Y/N’s room, apologizing and kissing away her tears away and I wasn’t really in the mood to discuss our plans any further this night.
“That girl. She’s the answer.”
A disquieting feeling formed in my stomach and made it twitch as I thought about the possible meanings behind my brother’s words.
“What do ya mean?”
“Look at the fucking castle she lives in. I bet her parents won’t miss a few diamond earrings and Rolex watches. Just go for the expensive stuff and screw that chick afterwards.”
Sickness welled up in my body at the thought of doing this to Y/N and leaving her, my hand crushing the cigarette in it together, burning myself in the process. I hardly took notice of the pain on my skin, the pain of losing her in my heart being way bigger.
“I can’t, Alex.” I turned my gaze towards my lap, my fists clenching together as tears of hurt started to wall up in my eyes, knowing all too well what was about to come.
Alex leaned over the centrepiece, his hand grabbing the handle before pushing the passenger door open for me.

“You can. And you will. As you said little brother;we are from South Side. It’s an unwritten law. That’s what we do.” 


This night sleeping became an impossibility. But on the contrary to all these other summer nights, it wasn’t the unbearable heat that didn’t let me drive to sleep, but rather the fault of solicitousness. Sorrow overbalanced my thoughts, as I lay in my bed and looked up to the stars, their infinity reflecting the inscrutableness of my scattered mind. I was worried about Calum, if he was well; and I was worried about us, if we were well.
The French window to my right stood wide open and let some of the cool air, rain always carries at its tail, breeze through my room, but there were still no sounds from the street reaching me. During this night the world seemed dead.
Under normal circumstances this uncaging silence calmed me down. I had always been a lover of these late hours, the blending from night to day, when nobody was out there and the world was without expectations to satisfy. But today it appeared unsettling, the calm after the storm somehow strengthening my dark prospects at the thought of him. But for all that, the absence of live outside these walls had the advantage of nobody hearing the loud sobs escaping my lungs, as I arrived at home, what seemed like a lifetime ago, with tears streaming down my face and hands shaking like a leaf.
Meanwhile the flood of tears had stopped and my puffy eyes and red nose where the only indicators of my former state. I wondered if he would come around at all and decided to distract myself with reading a book of E. A. Poe. The plan did work out great for about two minutes, until my mind drifted off to him again, the book, being the one I read when he first talked to me, not helping much to ban him from my mind.
With a weary sigh I put the roman back aside on my night stand and sat up in my bed, looking down at the pyjama, which I traded in for the still sodden clothes I had been wearing all night. A twine was sticking out at the seam of my blue pants and I began plucking at it randomly, as the sound of steps on the gravel road, leading to my front door, came to my ears.
Not even a second went by until I was standing on my balcony, looking down at the dark figure, my heart was beating in my chest rapidly and a heavy weight was lifted off my shoulders, at the time I identified the person as Calum.
I nearly flew down the marble staircase, as I ran as fast as my feet could carry me down into the hall, almost crashing into the front door, before opening the entry and throwing myself into Cal’s arms.
For a moment we just stood there, neither of us daring to say something. My head was buried in his neck, his chin was resting on my crown, our hands tangled around each other’s body, holding on our corps tightly with no intention to let go. Calum was the first one to break the silence.
“I’m so sorry.” His whispered words lost themselves somewhere in my hair, as he pressed kiss after kiss on the top of my head.
The sound of his voice was all it took for the tears to well up in my eyes again and find their way rolling down my cheeks. He probably wouldn’t have noticed my bewildered state, since my face was still buried in his body, but the soft sobs crawling out of my lungs backstabbed me.
It seemed like he was torn in his actions, not knowing how to react, firstly pressing me harder against his body and tightening his embrace, but secondly taking a step back and looking into my eyes. His hands found their way towards my cheeks automatically, his rough thumbs sweeping the tears away.
“Babe, please don’t cry. I’m so so insanely sorry for making you go through this.” Calum’s deep brown eyes held a ton of emotions, as he bend his head down a little to comfort me with his actions, but one was the most outstanding: hurting. He was hurt because of me crying, my harm was his harm. And knowing this fact let my heart swell in my chest.
But right now, between all these events of tonight, the only thing my mind was focusing on was him calling me ‘babe’ and I couldn’t stop a small sincere smile forming on my lips.
I must have looked rather funny and insane, standing there like a fool, a smile playing on my lips as tears ran down my face – and I started to giggle. It began softly but soon the giggles bubbled out of my mouth and turned into a full on laughing fit. Calum eyed me with a baffled expression but was gradually joining my infectious laugh. And that’s how it happened.
That’s how we ended up in front of my house, in this shallow neighbourhood were nothing but the right manners and the breadth of your bank account mattered, in the middle of a dead silence night - when those fits of laughter turned the atmosphere and lead to emotionally charged kisses.
During collapsing with laughter our eyes met and our lips crashed together. My hands immediately found their way to his neck, clinging into his soft locks in a desperate need to get even closer to him. Calum’s hands glided down my body towards my butt, pushing the seam of my shorts upwards, his hot skin displaying a heavy contrast to the cold breeze now whirling around my exposed backside. It was different than a few hours ago, when we have simply been two teenagers on the verge of discovering the other’s body to satisfy sexual cravings; now we were in need of each other.
He wasn’t as gentle as before, but I didn’t mind. We were hungry for love, for being the closest we could get.  
I completely lost myself in Calum’s kiss and touch, and that was my exact intention for tonight. I made an attempt to jump, whereby he got the clue right away and lifted me up, followed by me straddling my legs around his waist. He grabbed a hand full of my ass, as his tongue shove itself into my mouth, going back and forth in rhythm with mine. I had to clasp my legs tighter together, on the one hand because I was slipping further down his body as he started going forwards and on the other hand to bridle the outrageous lust bundling between them. His legs moving with every step caused friction at that one exact spot, driving me completely insane and bringing me to throw my head back in pleasure. He didn’t move his head as my lips left his, leaving his mouth on my neck to find a spot to suck on. His lips moved there with as much passion as he had put in kissing my mouth before, a mixture of gliding feathery over the sensitive skin, slight licking and hard sucking. They wandered around as if he tried to explore and infix every spot of my body in his mind, continuing his doings on my larynx and educing a moan from my throat. As backlash he only started sucking harder on it, winding up in more moans leaving my mouth, while he was taking the step of my front porch.
I wasn’t prepared for this kind of leg movement under me and glided down, leaving hanging somewhere in the middle of his thighs. Trying to shove myself up again, I unsuccessfully wiggled around a little, noticing my own inefficiency and changing my moves to wave like hip motions. My poor attempt of repositioning myself, expressing it in me pushing my core against Cal’s well noticeably boner, must have triggered something in him, because in the next breath I was harshly pressed against a wall. He literally rammed his hard on against my hips, solely holding me up with the pressure between our lower bodies, as his hands left my ass and found their way under my shirt. His forehead was leaning against mine, both of us grasping for air although to different reasons. Calum was still breathing heavily from putting his air in kissing me and I, I was still trying to get used to the tingly feeling he was sending through my body with his touch.
As reaction to his fingers gliding up my skin, new forming goose bumps appeared on my stomach, adapting to the unfamiliar touch of a boy. He let his hand rest dangerously close under my breast and my breath stopped. Calum opened his eyes, his gaze finding mine as he silently asked for my permission. I agreed with my lips crashing back on Cal’s and my hand placed over his, separated through the thin material of my pyjamas, guiding it over my bra. His body immediately responded to the newly created intimate contact and I noticed his boner getting even harder, although I thought of it as an impossibility. And being completely honest it scared the shit out of me.
I had absolutely no clue what I was doing, being unexperienced was an understatement to describe my current state of first-hand knowledge of sexual actions.
I wasn’t prepared for a boy showing up in my life anytime soon, not with my parents keeping that strict watch over me, I wasn’t prepared for falling head over heels in love within a month, and I most of all was prepared of this boy being him. My feelings for Cal were out of control. It was overwhelming, just like him, and I felt like being in the free fall. A free fall into the world of Calum Hood, into motorbikes, into drugs, into South Side – and I couldn’t do anything against it.
In spite of all that, here I was, pressed against the wall of my foyer, Cal’s hands grazing my breasts. He let his fingers glide over the wire of my bra, a lazy back and forth driving me sheer insane, before he let his hands slide over my swollen breasts and pinched my hardened nipples. An urging desire bundled between my legs and I pressed them intuitively together, as his thumbs formed circles over my cleavage. My eyelids got heavy of lust and I let my hands glide over his neck and shoulders, pressing my lips against his. The kiss got more fierce and steamy, a violent approach and withdraw of hot mouths and tongues. I shuddered and a sweet moan, escaping my lungs, lost itself in Calum’s mouth. Our cores were particularly merged and I had no chance of actually touching his lower regions, but the sole attempt of my hand gliding along the waistband of his jeans, let him loose his last bit of self-control.
“Fuck that’s it.” He hissed under his breath while stepping away from the wall. I nearly fell down at the loss of contact and pressure, but he swiftly yanked his hands out of my shirt and grabbed my butt again, catching me. My body was pressed against his, hand still resting on my ass, both of us breathing heavily.
“C’mon.” Intertwining his hand with mine, he haphazardly ran up the stairs, whirling around in a wild aim of finding my room. More precisely finding my bed.
“First door left.” I couldn’t even finish my last words before he was dragging me into the stated direction, the both of us standing in my bedroom within seconds.
Everything got hot and dizzy, a fire running through my body and I somehow lost my shirt. Cal took a step back, taking his time to admire me for the second time this day, the only difference was me being more confident this time. His hooded, lustful eyes scanned over every inch of skin, his chest raising up and down as if he just ran a marathon. I knew the feeling.
I was licking my lips and tried to control my breath, before losing consciousness.
He took my breasts in his hands, pressing them together before placing a kiss on my décolleté.
“I’ll never get tired of this view.” His whisper hit hot against my skin before he unhooked my bra, letting my underwear join the pile of clothes spread on the floor, as well as his own.
We found ourselves again tangled under my sheets, his tip placed at my entrance. He felt hot and smooth down there, almost silk like. His boner parted my flesh where it was wet and aroused, transferring me to unknown pleasure with his strokes. I softly whispered his name and buried my face in his shoulder. At his first penetration my teeth dug into his muscles, on account of the short sharp sting spreading in my core.
“All right?” Concern was wafting through his voice, as he stopped his movements in order to check up on me. I simply nodded my head, urging him to go on. I knew there was no going back; I wanted him, and I needed him.
I exhaled audibly, while he began to push further inside me, keeping his eyes glued to me, willed to stop anytime. It was a slow, easy rhythm, which gave me time to stretch and adjust myself to his size, before he grabbed my hips and buried his erection completely inside me with one last thrust. I was gasping for air; he filled me up completely. An ardour of passion burned me inwardly, I clutched to his shoulders and wrapped one leg around his backside. I lifted myself to conceive his kiss, as he started moving in slow motion. His muscles were hard as stone under my touch, he pulled back halfway and thrusted forward once again.
“Y/N.” He whispered my name into my hair, his hands gliding up and down my body in the most loving way, setting my skin on fire. It spread out over my feet, my stomach, my chest, up to my head, making me dizzy.
Our bodies were sweaty, sticking together where we blended into each other, where skin was slapping onto skin. My whole world was focused on the parts he was touching, nothing mattered, but the feeling he caused in my heart.

It wasn’t like in one of those teen movies. I didn’t enjoy it right away. And by all means I for sure didn’t reach my orgasm. It was the first time for me, I was in pain most of the time, bearable pain, sometimes mixed with slight pleasure.
It was neither two minutes in-out-done sex, nor sex with me screaming of lust at the top of my lungs, classified as near porn.
It was simple love making, leaving me overwhelmed and wonderstruck.
Leaving me with the realisation, that even the smallest hidden corner of my heart, was now entirely his.

Calum’s POV

She deserved better. I loved her, but she deserved better.
My brother was right hereof - boys like me simply weren’t made to love girls like her. I couldn’t deny were I came from and I couldn’t change the fact who I was, my origins – the real me – would always be close on my heels, trapping me sooner or later, no matter how fast I ran. This time it was part of my family showing up with drugs and weapons at home, a rather non-disturbing act for me, but utterly disturbing for her, and next time it would probably be something else. It would never stop, there would always be a next time; I was from South Side, and that’s how it was in South Side. There was no escape.
I was already too late for me, I wasn’t able to change my destiny, but I was able to be loyal to Alex and I was able to rescue her. I didn’t have the heart to drag her into this messed up life, if she had such amazing opportunities lying ahead of her. She wasn’t aware of it yet, but eventually she’d realize that there was no spot for somebody like me in her life. I was a rebellious act, I was an adventure. I’d just accelerate proceedings.
It broke my heart, but it was how it was.  
And so I looked down one more time at the girl in my arms, before getting up from her bed and gathering my things together in the dark shelter of her room. As I was fully dressed again, still smelling the rain in my clothes, I turned around once more. The moonlight fell through the window and tangled itself in her hair, shining a light on different parts of her face, letting her seem flawless. And as I stood there looking at her, I didn’t have the heart to leave without telling her at least once.

“I love you.”
Spoken out loud, the truth let the weight on my shoulders get even heavier, dragging me down, as I turned around and left.

Fifteen minutes was all it took.
Fifteen minutes to find her parents room, head into the dressing room, find the jewellery, rummage through the nightstands for cash, pocket everything and leave.
Fifteen minutes was all it took to fade out of her life.


I was woken by the sound of sirens, resounding through my open French window and footsteps echoing through the hall. I groaned in annoyance, turning around in my bed to sleep for a little longer. The breeze brushing my skin, as the sheets slid down in motion, reminded me of my nakedness and the events of the previous night. A smile formed on my lips and I blindly touched around my bed for Calum, more than ready to snuggle up against his side, but I didn’t feel anything.
I opened my eyes to find myself alone in my room, confusion forming a frown on my forehead. Lazily I got up and checked the ensuite bathroom, only to also realize his absence there. Putting on my dressing gown and making my way towards the hall, an uneasy feeling spread out in my stomach. I opened the door to my room and shock was written all in my face, at the presented sight.
Plenty detectives, obviously holders of the sirens and footsteps, were busily scurrying through my house.
Taking the first step out of my room, I collided with my mother.
“Y/N, there you are. Darling, what a sight you are. Please go and get dressed properly.” Internal she would have probably loved to turn up her nose at my appearance, but of course she’d never do something un-ladylike like that.
“As you wish, mother. What is the reason behind this turmoil?” I thought of Calum and how this version of me somehow seemed wrong on so many levels, since I met him.
“It is truly tragic. We were robbed tonight.” The still present frown on my forehead got deeper, my brows contracting. I was at a lack of understanding; how could somebody have robbed us tonight? “The detectives said there is no sign of forced entry. Darling, did you leave the entrance open or did you open it for anyone?” My mother’s interrogative look pierced into my eyes, while I brooded over the given information, and suddenly her face got blurry in front of my vison.
The curtain dropped. Now I got it.

He was gone…

He was gone.

And with him my naïve idea, that Calum Hood was loving me. 

If anybody makes it til down here, firstly I would like to thank you for reading this story and secondly I’d love to know your opinion whether positive or negative, both is fine x.:) 

Luke Imagine - Luke falls for a younger girl

A/N I now want to point out that the following is fictional just like all the imagines any other writer does and I’ve seen people getting hate for writing imagines for younger fam members. This is wrong. Your personal opinion on the boys having younger gf’s is irrelevant because this is - saying it again - fiction and EVERY FAN HAS THE SAME RIGHT OF GETTING AN IMAGINE. We are equal and people should realize that.

Okay, sorry if anyone was bothered by this but it felt necessary. Love you all, thanks for requesting ♥

Requested: Yes

Word count:  966

Warnings: none (but do you realize you can blind peolpe with your shining beauty? I’m warining you to bring shades for everyone)


can you do an imagine with Luke were I’m 5 years younger, and by accident he calls/texts/skype’s her idk. But like they are friends for a few years. They both know they like each other but are to afraid of what people will thing? (Like age is just a number)


It started out so innocently. I had a really bad day and I felt like nothing could cheer me up – also I had no one to cheer me up. My best friend and I got in a fight and I didn’t have anyone I could talk to since my best friend was the only one I could pour my heart out to.

The idea was quite simple: I messaged a random number and honestly I didn’t even expect anyone to reply but as soon as I send “This day is horrible” someone replied and asked me why my day was rough and if he could do anything about that. First it was all anonymously and distant but after having daily conversations we got to know each other. We shared so many things that I didn’t really know if I could call him a stranger anymore.

Everything developed slowly but as soon as we told each other our names, places and biggest fears Luke was my best friend.

We even started calling each other but when I send him selfies with friends I started wondering why he never showed me pictures of himself. I know this is an extremely dangerous thing to have with a complete stranger but this was different. I trusted him with my life.

When he refused to skype with camera I broke the contact. You couldn’t consider it being angry but I just thought “when he doesn’t wanna show me who he is, he’s not as trust worthy as I thought”.

I missed him a lot to be honest and so did he. He messaged me thousands of times, apologizing. I asked him why he was so scared to show me who he was but he said he couldn’t tell be because he was afraid that it wouldn’t be the same afterwards.

That was the sentence that broke my heart. We’ve messaged each other for almost a year by now and still he thought I would judge him by his appearance – that’s what I thought at least. I was hurt that he thought I was such a person and after breaking the contact he face timed me. Now I understood. It wasn’t just any Luke. It was Luke Hemmings from 5 Seconds of Summer.

I was flashed, yet excited. I’d like to say that nothing changed after I knew who he was but it did.

We skyped, we called, tweeted and snap chatted each other and after knowing he was no weird old man who pretended to be an 18 year old, I fell for him. Now the barrier of the unknown was broken but there was another one. I was 14. That’s a big difference for some people. I realized that because rumors started when Luke and I tweeted each other and it got shut down as “He’s just being nice to a kid who’s a fan of the band”. Before that I never really worried about age difference with guys but I knew that it bothered Luke. He hadn’t replied to my texts in a week now and I got concerned.

After one week of wondering what happened he called me: “Y/N, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do”

“about what?” I asked, afraid that he would want to break our friendship.

“I…  I can’t help it okay? I can’t do this anymore” his voice broke.

“Please Luke don’t drop me! I know it’s hard to be friends with people being in the position that you are but we can work it out, okay? I’m not mad that you didn’t reply. I know you’re busy” I whispered not believing my own words.

“That’s not the point, Y/N! I can’t pretend I don’t feel anything for you just because people would judge me for doing so! I don’t want to be just friends and you can’t just say that you didn’t know because I DID SEND SIGNALS OKAY”

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat on my bed, trying my best to keep it cool.

No guy ever told me something like that and I panicked. I knew that I felt the same way but it’s not too easy to put it in words – especially since everyone thought I was not the right choice for him.

“Y/N would you please say something, the silence just makes it worse” Luke mumbled.

“Can I come over?” I huffed into the speaker.

“Sure” Luke responded. “If you’d like to fly thousands of miles just to tell me that you don’t feel the same way”

I swallowed hard. “Okay listen here: I DO FEEL THE SAME WAY. But I don’t know how to handle this either Luke. I’m not good at keeping secrets and so aren’t the paparazzi so can we just try to keep this just friends?”

The words were so heavy in my stomach and I hated that. I didn’t want to be just friends. I wanted Luke to hold me in his arms. I wanted him to keep on saying my name as it would be the most wonderful word he knew.

Luke always protected me. I thought his was more of a brother –sister relationship in the first place but we proved each other wrong.

“No.” Luke simply spoke.

“No?” I asked confused.

“No, I refuse to hide my feelings for you just because some people think it’s their business because IT ISN’T. I love you, Y/N. I loved you since you simply replied “Huh…cool thing I guess” when I told you about my band and I won’t let my happiness be controlled by other people. It’s my life and it’s my choice and the only thing that stops me from being happy is a number on a birth certificate? No.” 


A/N Your cute compliments make my day, thank you for that ♥ Since I’m turning 18 this year I hope I could get into character as much I needed for this one… if not, sorry :/

Requests are still open xx 


anonymous asked:

I'm a chubby girl and I follow you and it seems like you really like and are supportive of curvy women but your gf looks really small and thin? i'm just kinda disappointed tbh

Alright, do you want to have this conversation? Let’s have this conversation. I’ve been anticipating an ask like this since the girl and I started dating.

I think it’s time I set a couple of ground rules. These are the things I believe.

1. Never let my point of view on anything affect how you feel, especially about yourself.

I’d like to think I’m a pretty good dude. I consider myself a feminist dude. I consider myself a tolerant and supportive dude. But I’m still a dude, and dudes are kinda the worst. You shouldn’t let my opinion on anything affect how you feel, especially about yourself.

Every woman is a goddess that deserves to feel beautiful and special because she is. My personal preferences shouldn’t mean shit to anyone who isn’t directly romantically or sexually involved with me, because I’m a fucking nobody. 

I’m a guy and so I don’t know your struggles, and I respect everything women choose to do or not to do in terms of their appearance and style. Girls who work out, girls who don’t, girls who dye their hair or do their makeup or pick out cute outfits, it’s all fantastic and wonderful and should be celebrated.

The other day the girl was telling me that she thinks she wants to dye her hair again. I said “If you wanna go for it, go for it.” She said I didn’t seem too thrilled about the idea and I said “It sounds cool, but it isn’t my decision. It’s just hair. Hair grows back. I’d love you if you were bald so fuck it, do what you wanna do.”

I’ve got no right to state how women “should” look because they shouldn’t look any specific way. All I have are my personal preferences and things I’m into, and that should in no way dictate what I believe women should look like.

2. Never let the appearance of other women negatively influence how you feel about yourself.

When I see chicks (and I don’t mean that in a demeaning way because I refer to chicks the same way I refer to guys as dudes) reblogging each others selfies, saying positive and sweet things, it lights me up inside. When I see a girl tell another girl that her eyebrow game is on point or that her eyes are beautiful I get genuinely elated and happy for a lot of reasons.

Part of it is because I like it when people sincerely appreciate the attractiveness of other people, even when it’s not a sexual thing. When I see a photo of a guy with a cool beard or tattoos or nice style I say “damn that is a fine-ass looking dude” because, well, that’s a fine-ass looking dude. I feel like guys get so defensive about appreciating each other because the patriarchy tries to teach us that we have to have masculinity shooting out of every orifice and it’s fucking stupid. I didn’t say I wanted to blow the guy, I just think he’s good looking. Hell, even if I did want to blow him, who cares? I’ve never wanted to do that before but if I suddenly felt compelled to I’d think “Huh. Well, that’s an interesting development.”

I was one of those neckbeard fedora dicks for a while throughout my youth. I didn’t have a neckbeard because at 22 I still can’t grow facial hair, and I didn’t have a fedora because even at 15 I knew they look fucking dumb, but I followed the ideals. I had just come out as an atheist, I thought girls didn’t like me because I was too nice, it was a difficult time and I had a lot of dangerous ideas. I learned a lot, about the friend zone being bullshit and about women’s rights and about what it means to really be a good person.

But I think the strangest thing I saw on the internet while I learned about feminism was the tendency that some (this is just a subset after all) women had to jab at each other about their style or their makeup or whatever. I would sometimes see women who decided not to wear makeup or to wear flannels or to dress grunge make comments about how “shallow” or “vain” or “girly” doing all that other shit was, and it bothered me. It felt like the same issue I had when I came out as an atheist. When you break the standard society tries to hold you to, be it religion or gender roles, you have this hostility toward those still in the folds.

These women didn’t realize they were shaming other women who held the same ideals as them but chose to embrace it in a different way. Some women broke the idea of being feminine completely, some chose to embrace it as their own, but both were fighting for the same thing. It’s those ideas that the patriarchy instills that’s dangerous to young women, so dangerous that even when they break free they can still be held back.

There’s a big movement about loving yourself regardless of size, and you totally should. Don’t compare yourself to other women. When you see someone beautiful, appreciate their beauty. Don’t put yourself down because you’re “less beautiful,” because you aren’t. You’re as beautiful, in a different way.

3. You can’t choose who you love.

This is the final part of this whole thing. I’m going to directly address your question here. 

Of course I like curvy women. I like women.

Of course I’m supportive of curvy women. Curvy women are people. People need support, especially those who have been told by the media that they aren’t good enough.

If you’ve followed my blog for a while, I make no secret of my sexual history. I was 500 pounds at the age of 16, lost 280 pounds over 5 years, had my first kiss at 18, lost my virginity just before 20, and I’ve been with around 19 girls. I stopped counting after a while because “sex partner numbers” are just fucking weird.

To me, sex and dating are two things that can be tied together in a wonderful way, but don’t have to be. You can date someone you care for and have great sex together. You can date someone you care for and not have sex if you choose not to. You can have sex with someone and not date them. But I treat sex and dating with the same base points.

If I’m attracted to you, interested in you, if you’re single and feel the same way, then let’s see what happened. 

If I’m single and at a bar and I see a girl I’m attracted to, I’ll talk to her. If she’s interested and not tied down, let’s see where it goes. Maybe we’ll end up dating, maybe we’ll end up fucking in the bathroom, maybe both. It all depends on the people involved and what we want.

But these rules are the same regardless of age (as long as they’re over 18, obviously,) ethnicity, body type or gender. (I mean, I’ve never felt compelled to have sex with another man but if I was single and the mood strikes, I’ll try anything once.)

I don’t like chubby women or middle eastern women or whatever. I like women I’m attracted to. I’ve been involved with girls who were 3 years younger than me, 12 years older than me, incredibly thin, fairly chubby, 6 foot 2, 4 foot 11, Puerto Rican, Jamaican, Pakistani, Ukrainian, it’s all because they were women who I was attracted to and were, somehow, attracted to me enough to ride the disco stick at least once.

I don’t want you to think I’m not supportive of you because of course I am. This comes from nowhere but a place of love. I’m a chubby guy. I’ve always been a chubby guy my entire life. I’m 6 foot 5 so I look slightly less chubby than I am but trust me, it’s there. I support you so much because you deserve support and you deserve to feel beautiful. But I’m not going to apologize for what I like and who I’m attracted to.

Now let’s talk about my girlfriend.

My girlfriend, Patty, is adorable. She’s the fucking cutest. She looks short in our photos, but that’s because I’m 6 foot 5. In reality, she’s about 5 foot 10. She’s thin and her legs are toned and she has an ass that won’t quit, but it’s not like she was just “blessed” or something. She works really fucking hard. She goes to the gym, she eats well, and she really tries. 

I’m not going to say “how dare you try and put her down for being thin” because it’s kinda like the idea of reverse racism. You can’t really put down skinny people the same way you can’t really put down white people. You may say something they find insulting, but in the media they’re so reinforced that it won’t put a dent in them.

Yeah, she’s thin and beautiful. But holy shit, she’s so much more than that. She’s the sweetest, kindest human being I’ve ever known. The day we told each other we liked each other, I told her that I have Bipolar Disorder. I was just diagnosed a few months ago, and I hadn’t told anyone in my life beyond my closest friends. I had purposely stayed away from dating because I was terrified. But I liked her, and I needed to tell her about what she was getting into.

She didn’t even hesitate. She didn’t care. She said it was a part of me, and “me” was who she liked. 

The first time we ever spent the night together, I woke up in the middle of the night. I stared out the slit of window I could see behind the curtain into the vague, dull blueness of the night sky. I could hear her breathe. I felt something I hadn’t in years, not since I lost my best friend. It was home. Being with her is like being home.

I don’t love her because she’s beautiful. She’s beautiful, and I love her.

Escape from Reality is honestly one of the most important episodes so far

So some people are believing ‘Escape from Reality’ is filler and Dipper should have taken the apprenticeship? Well I feel like some things are going amiss with that idea and yes the two are pretty tightly linked. ‘Escape from Reality’ is vastly important to the narrative for Dipper and Mabel and meta wise for the entire audience and refusing this is putting yourself in the same bubble Mabel was.

I’m going to address the narrative thing first though and it goes back right to the start of the series. What is one of the most obvious things about the kid beyond his obvious need to relax? He is bored and obviously frustrated by it. Then in comes the journal and suddenly there’s excitement every week and it’s his dream come true for good and bad. Mabel too gets her dream of multiple summer romances even if there’s bad mixed in there, it’s all an experience of joy, fear and maturing from the consequences of it all. Then comes ‘Dipper and Mabel vs the Future’ and that’s where an imbalance is struck. Mabel’s experience is obviously about coming face to face with reality and how frightening that is, but what about Dipper? His certainly isn’t that as he finds aliens exist with his idol, tries cool new inventions and is given an offer that must seem a dream to a kid. He isn’t facing reality here like Mabel, the consequences are completely ignored. Dipper proved himself but he was in enormous danger and if Ford wants to have him as an apprentice how will he explain his situation; the Stan switch, what he’s researching and where’s his money going to come from without the Shack open and his university connections gone for thirty years. Dipper’s entered the opposite of Mabel here instead of facing reality he’s being drawn further into his fantasy but this show has always broke fantasies down and that’s exactly what happens. Weirdmaggedon. The penultimate end to the fantasy he’s entered, the supernaturals everywhere and times stopped for him just like it has Mabel in the bubble but it’s the reality of the dream he was keeping himself in (that the apprenticeship represents.) The supernatural and Ford’s research is dangerous and being a hero is not only not easy but its terrifying and impossible alone. That’s the worst part for him, theres no Mabel to help cheer him up or look out for monsters while they’re hiding. She can’t use her ingenuity to help his academia and create a plan with him. Dipper has to realise he is still a kid and as a kid he still needs his sister. They’ll part one day but that day was not when they were thirteen and to go into a life where Weirdmaggedon or something like it always lurks around the corner.

So then if that’s in ‘Weirdmaggedon Part One’ why is ‘Escape from Reality’ so important? Because he has to put it to a test, has to truly see what kind of fantasy he’d put himself in by looking at Mabel’s. Because what he’d done was what Mabel had and that was wrap himself in a bubble and even blocked off the reaction their twin would have to it all. ‘Weirdmaggedon part 1 and 2′ is simply the inverse of ‘Dipper and Mabel vs the Future’. Where Dipper got drawn into his fantasy and Mabel reality they got switched and Dipper had to face reality while Mabel got drawn into her fantasy. This is the temptation both of them have faced through the show, the draw of their dreams being within reach but having to mature and accept they can’t always have that. Mabel could have had her boy band but had to realise she was hurting people who wanted to be free, Dipper could have had a chance to get to know Wendy by himself but he had to realise he would be hurting someone who wanted to be free and see their family again. This is only one time each, throughout the show they’ve faced this and ‘Escape from Reality’ is the culmination of it all and where they have to face the final temptation of it all. Dipper could give up and be older with Wendy in a place where the supernatural runs wild and Mabel could be with her brother, friends and boyfriends in a neverending summer. They have to realise this fantasy isn’t right, it hurts people and they have to go on into the future. That reality may hurt but it may also be better than any fantasy they could have if they move on and work towards it. They have to realise this together and complete the flux of opposite arcs they’ve had for the past three episodes by coming to a different conclusion than the one that started it all. Instead of both rejecting reality like at the end of ‘Dipper and Mabel vs the Future’ they both come to accept it at the end of ‘Escape to Reality’. The end of their character arcs and ready to save the damn world with full closure.

This is all ignoring the meta context of it all as well. Think it’s a coincidence we found out the show was ending completely just before ‘Escape from Reality’ aired? Or that all the references to the entire series throughout the episode was just fun call backs? No the entire audience was being put into Mabel’s shoes. We got devastating news and even went into a bit of denial, then we get an episode that brings up nostalgia with every scene it has. The entire episode is trying to get you to remember the previous ones and feel longing for them while being sad with the knowledge that the series is ending. The episode is also for the audience to face the reality that we probably don’t want to. We could retreat into denial or get mad but have to come to the realisation that the show has been a fun ride and we can remember it fondly but the future is awaiting us all filled with new things both good and bad. Its so we can come to terms with all that and be ready to kick Bill’s ass just as much as Dipper and Mabel’s are. If you believe ‘Escape from Reality’ is just filler? You’re denying that entire process, it doesn’t just happen and we were given the time with the episode to realise that. That Dipper dropping out of school and isolating himself in an apprenticeship is a good thing? It speaks more to wanting him to stay in Gravity Falls in his fantasy, much like wanting to keep the show going would be.