the worst part maybe is that she says it and he just says nothing

Tom and Lin-Manuel: An Appreciation/Jealous Rant

Every writer has a golden period – a chunk of time when her brain is ripest, when the veins he is tapping are the richest, when the ideas, big and small, spill out over the sides of the bucket instead of having to be patiently collected like drops of rain off a leaf. This is true for songwriters, playwrights, novelists, screenwriters, anyone who writes anything in any genre. Go look at John Hughes’s IMDb page and marvel at his golden period, which I would bookend as 1983-1990. It’s outrageous. He wrote Vacation, Mr. Mom, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Some Kind of Wonderful, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Uncle Buck, and Home Alone in eight years. Eight years?! That’s absurd.

But then look at his next 20 years. You won’t find one movie that is better than the worst one he wrote in those seven years. The vein ran dry. It always does. That’s just the deal.

Tom Petty’s golden period never ended. Or, at least, the silver periods on either side of his golden period were seemingly infinite. No matter where you think he peaked – Full Moon Fever, or Wildflowers, or Damn the Torpedoes – the decades on either side were wonderful. He was great from the moment he released his first album in 1977 to the day he died last month. For forty years he wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and the songs he wrote were good or great or amazing.

Tom Petty wrote “Breakdown” and “American Girl” in 1977. He wrote “You Don’t Know How it Feels” seventeen years later, in 1994. He wrote “You Got Lucky” in 1982, “King’s Highway” in 1992, “The Last DJ” in 2002. He wrote “I Won’t Back Down,” “Runnin’ Down a Dream,” Free Fallin’,” “Love is a Long Road,” “A Face in the Crowd,” Yer So Bad,” and “The Apartment Song,” and “Depending on You,” all in 1989, and they were all on the same album, and that’s absurd.

He wrote “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” in 1981 and “Big Weekend” in 2006. He wrote every song on Wildflowers – and they are all great – in or around 1994. He wrote fifty other great songs I haven’t named yet, like “Don’t Come Around Here No More” and “Jammin Me.” He wrote great songs you’ve heard a million times, and great songs you’ve maybe never heard, like “Billy the Kid” (1999) and “Walls” (1996) which was buried on the soundtrack to She’s the One.  He took a break from the Heartbreakers and casually released “End of the Line” and “Handle With Care” and “She’s My Baby” with the Traveling Wilburys in 1989-90. He wrote “Refugee” in 1980 and “I Should Have Known It” in 2010. Is there any rock and roll songwriter alive who wrote two songs that good, 30 years apart? (Paul McCartney wrote “Hey Jude” in 1968, and only 12 years later he wrote “Wonderful Christmas Time,” which is so bad it nearly retroactively undid “Hey Jude.”)

He wrote about rock and roll things, like ’62 Cadillacs, getting out of this town, and dancing with Mary Jane. He wrote about love and loss and heartbreak. He wrote legitimately funny jokes, and moribund memories, and personal narratives, and imaginative flights of fancy. One of his characters calls his father his “old man” and it somehow isn’t cheesy. He was from Florida and California and wrote about both of them, and every time I’m on Ventura Boulevard I think of vampires, because the images he wrote are indelible. 

Petty didn’t just write songs directed at women, like most rock stars. He wrote about women, and he wrote for women, and he wrote with women. He treated the women in his songs as lovingly and respectfully as he treated the men. He cared about them as much, he spent as much time thinking about them, and he liked them as much, and all of that is rare.

He wrote simply, but not boringly. He made his characters three-dimensional, somehow, in a matter of seconds. There’s a famous (probably apocryphal) story about Hemingway bragging he could write an entire novel in six words, then writing: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” I prefer the 18-word novel Petty wrote as the first verse to “Down South” –

Headed back down south
Gonna see my daddy’s mistress
Gonna buy back her forgiveness
Pay off every witness

When I was working on Parks and Recreation, whenever we needed a song to score an important moment in Leslie Knope’s life, we chose a Tom Petty song. It started with “American Girl,” when her biggest career project came to fruition. It was “Wildflowers” when she said goodbye to her best friend. It was “End of the Line” at the moment the show ended. For the seven seasons of our show, Tom Petty was the writer we trusted to explain how our main character was feeling, because he wrote so much, so well, for so long.

*******

It seems like a joke, Hamilton – a joke in a TV show where one of the characters is a struggling New York actor, and is always dragging his friends to his terrible plays. Like Joey in Friends. There’s an episode of Friends where Joey is in a terrible musical called like Freud!, about Sigmund Freud, and you get to see some of it, and it’s predictably terrible. Freud! the musical is arguably a better idea than Hamilton the musical.

I’m far from the first person to say this – I’m probably somewhere around the millionth person to write about Hamilton, and the maybe 500,000th to make this particular point, but it needs to be said – a hip-hop Broadway musical about the founding fathers is an astoundingly terrible idea. Lin-Manuel Miranda should never have written it. As soon as he started to write it, he should’ve said to himself, “What the fuck am I doing?!” and stopped. And after he got halfway through, he should’ve junked it, gotten really drunk, and moved on with his life, and made his wife and friends swear to never mention the weird six months where he was trying to write a hip-hop musical about Alexander Hamilton. I literally guarantee you that when Lin-Manuel Miranda first told his friends what he was writing, every one of them reacted with at best a frozen smile, and at worst a horrified recoiling. Some of them might have been outwardly encouraging – “sounds awesome bud! Go get ‘em!” But then later, alone, they would call each other and say What the fuck is he doing?

There is a moment, in Hamilton, when what you are watching overwhelms you. (It’s not the same moment for everyone, but most everyone has one, I suspect.) It’s the moment when the enormity, the complexity, the meaning of it, the entirety of it, overpowers you, and you realize that what you are experiencing is new – new both in your specific life, and new, like, on Earth.  The first time I saw it, that moment was a line in the middle of “Yorktown.” Hamilton sang the line And so the American experiment begins / With my friends all scattered to the winds, and I burst into tears in a way I hadn’t since I was 10 and a baseball went through a guy’s legs in the World Series. Something about how casually he says that – And so the American experiment begins – just settled over me, like a collapsing tent, and this thing I was watching wasn’t in front of me, it was everywhere around me, and it was exhilarating and transformative.

(If I could put this part in a footnote, I would, but I don’t know how to, so: I should mention that I am very far from a musical theater aficionado. I have seen maybe eight musicals in my life. Not only did I not expect to cry, hard, during Hamilton, I did not expect to enjoy it. I saw it like a week after it opened on Broadway, kind of on a whim, knew nothing about it, and the last thing I said to my wife, as the lights went down, was: “We’ll leave at intermission.”)

The second time I saw it, that moment came much earlier (I knew what I was getting into, this time, so I was more ready to be subsumed). It came barely three minutes in, when the entire cast of the show, in a piece of choreography that can best be referred to as “badass,” all walk down to the very front of the stage and stand, shoulder to shoulder, and sing very loudly about how Alexander Hamilton never learned to take his time. The cast has, to this point, trickled on stage, slowly, one by one, telling you Hamilton’s origin story, and then suddenly there they all are, all of them – maybe 20? 50? It seems like 1000? – as close to the audience as they can get, and they are every size and ethnicity and gender, and their voices are loud, and I thought to myself, oh my God, this is a cast of people descended from every nation on Earth, all singing about the foundations of the American experience, and yes I “knew” that, intellectually, but holy shit, now that I see them all, I know it, like in my stomach, I understand it, and what a thing that is.

The third time I saw Hamilton, that moment was during “It’s Quiet Uptown,” when this enormous, sprawling, improbable, otherworldly, multi-ethnic, historical, art tornado presses pause on all of its historical-cultural-ethno-sociological-artistic investigations, and spends four and a half spare minutes with a couple who are grieving an unimaginable tragedy.  Specifically, it was the lines

Forgiveness
Can you imagine?
Forgiveness
Can you imagine?

What a thing to do, for your characters – to give them four and a half minutes in the middle of an enormous, sprawling, historical swirl, to just be sad. What a piece of writing that is.

(Again, should be a footnote, but: as long as I’m talking about writers here, I should point out that if the late Harris Wittels were alive, he would, at this moment, text me and hit me with a “humblebrag” for writing about how I have seen Hamilton three times, and he would be right. Miss you Harris!)

In the hundreds of hours of my life I have spent thinking about Hamilton since I first saw it – far more hours than any other single piece of art I have ever experienced – I have revisited that same thought over and over: he never should’ve written it. It was an absurd thing to do. It took him a year to write the title song, then another year to write the second song, and how did he not give up when two years had gone by and he’d written two songs?  He must’ve known in his heart it needed to be a 50-song, 2 ½-hour enterprise, and he had two songs after two years, and he kept going. How did he keep going? I’ve been trying to write this blog post about two writers I admire for different reasons since the week Tom Petty died, and I’ve almost given up five times.

At this point, the entire musical is that “moment” for me. It’s the whole thing, now – the thing that overwhelms me is the whole thing. The conception of it, the writing of it, the rewriting of it. The music and the motifs and the themes and the threads and the dramatic shape and the characters and their inner lives, and the eagle-eye writer’s view it took to keep all of that in his head, all of it, the whole time. The writing of it. The utterly impossible writing of it. 

⇁ nudes, not flowers | 01

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

pairing⇁Hoseok x reader x Jungkook

genre⇁smut || fuckboi!au

warningspublic sex, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, dirty talk, dom!junghope, demeaning names during sex if you aren’t into that, jealousy

word count5.5k

You’re not supposed to fall for Jung Hoseok and his repertoire of awful pick-up lines—but you do. The problem is: he’s afraid of commitment, and bolts at the idea of settling down. After that, you decide to stay far away from fuckboys, but his friend decides to test your new found resolutions.

or : Jungkook wants to see how far he can push Hoseok until he snaps 

01 | 02  ⇁ sequel 

Keep reading

9

Secrets Out {Part 1} {Part 2} {Part 3} {Part 4} {Part 5}

Y/n had a weird feeling when she came over and the first thing Jungkook did was give her a look that almost looked pitiful? it confused you to say the least. You worried if you did something? Or something happened? You honestly had no idea. You didn’t say anything about it, you didn’t want to stress Jungkook out more then he already looked stressed, you remembered a couple of the other members giving you looks like that in the past but never at the same time it was always at weird times…. You played around with Tae and Hoseok and all your nerves from Jungkook calmed down a bit. By then you were all called to dinner by Jin, you thanked him for cooking again and happily ate with the members 

You were sitting in front of Jungkook and again he gave you that look now you were worried you always tried to forget it but this was different there was a pit in your stomach. You couldn’t control it this time. When all the members started staring at their phones that pit got deeper. You gave them their space, maybe their manager texted them? Maybe something urgent happened? It didn’t help your worrying though. You didn’t want to overthink this, but you couldn’t help it, are they texting about me? Are they mad at me? Did I do something? The pit in your stomach getting deeper and deeper with every thought that ran through your mind. You peaked over to look at Yoongi’s phone who was sitting next to you. you jumped when he turned his phone over right when you leaned over.

Now you knew. It was about you… you felt like crying they never talked about you behind your back but now you had no idea what was going on. You didn’t want to alarm anyone so you quietly ate your food while everyone’s heads turned up as if nothing was happening. You felt the stares of some of them…. You honestly wanted to run out of that door, cry? Throw up? You didn’t know you just wanted to leave but you didn’t want to cause a scene you pretended everything was ok. Even suggested a sad movie so you could cry without anyone wondering why. Your anxiety was running wild thinking the worst of the worst.

During the movie, you felt Namjoons eyes never leave you. you wanted to cry so bad, your mind making up the worst scenarios, maybe they didn’t want to be your friend anymore? Maybe they were thinking of leaving you? you knew better then to question your best friends but how could you not? Your anxiety getting the best of you at moments like these weren’t unusual. You ran to their bathroom and cried. You didn’t want to but you didn’t want to cry in front of them. All you heard was gentle knocking on the bathroom door after you locked it. “y/n? are you ok? Please tell me you’re ok” it was Jungkook’s voice. You couldn’t say anything he seemed to know you were crying but you hoped maybe he wouldn’t. you couldn’t face them you took the random cap you saw on the door handle said goodbye to the rest of the members that were awake and walked out of the bathroom out of their front door.

A/N: so like i tried?? lmao i thought about making this a series ya know angsty maybe fluffy idk yet. tell me what y'all think! i tried making this atleast a bit angsty but i suck at writing angst so idk lol. hope you liked it? Pt. 2??

for @thegeekindenial @statisticallymorelikely because reasons

thank you @mad-madam-m @paintedlandscape for quick read thru ^_^

Derek turns into a cat on a Tuesday.

There’s nothing unusual about this particular Tuesday. He wakes up in the abandoned warehouse he’d claimed in North Carolina, on top of an old flea-bitten mattress, and he’s wallowing in his usual morning routine of self-doubt and questioning his life choices. It isn’t until he realizes the sad, pitiful meowing is not coming from the feral cats he tries to feed with what meager income he can get doing odd jobs, but is in fact, coming from himself.

He is a cat. 

Derek takes stock of the situation. This must be that witch he met yesterday; he’d politely asked her to move on from this town because her anti-aging potions were giving the neighborhood ladies glow-in-the-dark hair and it wouldn’t be long until she attracted attention– of the local supernatural enforcement kind, meaning packs, meaning emissaries, meaning Derek would have to move on. Yet again. She’d shot some spells at him, ruined his favorite leather jacket, and chased him through the woods where there were a startling amount of hidden cameras. Derek then had to avoid several bungling FBI agents and led them on a merry chase through the woods until losing them, then he headed back to town.

The worst part was that whatever spell it was, Derek couldn’t shift into a wolf. He’d forgotten about it once he got to safety, and there didn’t seem to be any other effects of the spell, but…

Yeah. Four legs. Tail. He’s fluffy. And small.

He should have just stayed in South America. 

Keep reading

Skyline {IV}

Originally posted by tomhollandisdaddy

Warnings: None

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 4k

A/N: Guys, from the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you all (all 900 of you [!!!!!!]) for all the kindness and support I’ve received for this story.  You guys are so great, and I love each and every one of you.  Thank you for all that you’ve done, and will hopefully continue to do, as there will be a skyline pt. 5!!!!

{part I} {part II} {part III}

Three days.  You were kept in the hospital for three days. Three days of IV’s, probing, blood pressure being taken, bad hospital beds, worse hospital food, and no access to news about whether or not Spider-Man made it out of the collapsed bank.

At first, you didn’t even remember the bank hold up.  You had woken up after passing out from a concussion and blood loss in a white hospital room, beeping all around you.  Fear had raced down your spine; was there an accident?  Why was there an IV in your arm?  What had happened?  It wasn’t until you saw the dirt covered, tear streaked face of Alex sitting in the chair next to your bed that it all came back to you.

Keep reading

damn the delivery boy.

Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk / Reader.

Genre: Expecting Parents AU / Fluff and Non-explicit smut.

Summary: Jeon Jeongguk is a computer science major working as a pizza delivery boy, and you are an uninspired published author who has just started an art degree. When you realise that the delivery boy is your old high school crush, he keeps coming back, but with more to offer than just puff pastry and vegetarian supreme. Though little did he know that he would end up giving you something much more that flips both of your worlds completely upside down in the form of two blue lines and nine months.

Count: 9,656 words.


month one.

Two lines.

The second is a little faint, but it is there, undeniably there, growing stronger by the second as your heart sinks deeper into the pit of your stomach and suddenly you are keeling over the sink, throwing up a combination of panic and regret. You wipe your mouth, sit back on the closed lid of the toilet, shut your eyes and take a deep breath, holding it until your lungs burn and your lashes fly back apart to look at the test still shaking between your fingertips.

There, right before your eyes, two fucking blue lines protruding like two middle fingers, poking up at you and saying – Congratulations sucker, you are pregnant!

Twenty-three years old and pregnant.

You throw up again.

This has got to be the biggest mistake of your life.

Keep reading

Steele Rose

Where you’re his ex-girlfriend and you see his new girlfriend wearing your t-shirt

Part 1

Masterlist linked in bio


Growing up, people told Y/n that you could die from a broken heart—that the stress on your heartstrings could weaken, and all that’s left is the pain in your chest.

Y/n thought her heart would fail her, rupture all that’s left of her and leave her body to decompose. She believed that, if her broken heart wasn’t going to kill her, loneliness and lack of sleep would push her towards her end.

Moving on—something that seemed so simple yet so impossible for Y/n to do.

When the hurt in her chest and the hallucinations from exhaustion started to become too much for her to handle, she was willing to do anything to help herself. She started taking up yoga sessions, started writing music, even started cooking in an attempt to bring herself back from whatever hell she was in.

She even considered moving on—meeting a man at a bar and getting to know more about him rather than his drink order. But something seemed so wrong about that—something was unsettled inside of her at the thought of being with someone who wasn’t Harry.

The image of Jessica in Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt was enough to haunt her nearly every hour of the day. She started going mental, constantly wondering what they were doing together in the moments she was most vulnerable. She wondered about their love life, their future, their interests. She thought about everything.

It wasn’t until Gabby was determined to mend the broken girl raiding her house, finding any possible excuse to give her a sense of life again, that Y/n found the slightest bit of hope.

Y/n was losing it entirely, and Gabby refused to continue being a bystander.

Gabby had set Y/n up on a blind date only a couple weeks back, practically begging her to seize every opportunity she possibly can to get over Harry. It was all Gabby could do to help her, considering nothing quite helped Y/n’s well-being since the breakup.


“Oh, he’s just so perfect!” Gabby squealed, clapping her hands before gripping tightly around Y/n’s wrists in excitement. “He’s gorgeous! Amazing blue eyes—breathtaking, really! And he’s so sweet, Y/n! I haven’t met a single person who’s disliked him and he’s such an amazing photographer! And his teeth! His teeth are marvelous! Do you know how hard it is nowadays to find a man with nice teeth? I mean—“

By then, Y/n had dozed off, and it wasn’t for any personal reason against Gabby; she’s appreciated every bit of hard work to help her through the heartbreak Y/n’s been dealing with nearly half of a year now. It’s just that she wasn’t ready to move on, not that she didn’t want to.

It had been nearly five months, which may seem like such an abundance of time to rid feelings for somebody, but did time really help moving on from someone she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with? It seemed nearly impossible. She could barely see herself looking at other men in a romantic sense, how could she see herself going on a date with somebody? Especially when she was still in love with somebody else?

She was biting the bullet with letting time heal her, but she felt that was the only way. Nothing more could help her. If anything, she believed dating would make it worse, if she were being honest.

But the look of excitement Gabby had at the mere thought of Y/n being happy again was something Y/n found nearly impossible to resist. Besides, she had definitely been overstaying her welcome at Gabby’s house no matter how much Gabby’s tried to deny it and has put so much stress onto her that maybe, just maybe, doing this one favor for all that she’s done for her.

“So, what do you say?”

Y/n blinked harshly when Gabby’s voice drowned out all the scrambled thoughts in her head, shaking her head slightly to regain her understanding of reality.

“What?”

“Monmouth Coffee Shop at noon tomorrow. Dan really wants to meet you, Y/n! Please!”

Y/n’s eyes widened, snapping her head up to meet Gabby’s hopeful eyes.

“The Monmouth?! Are you crazy?! That’s Harry’s favorite coffee shop, you know that! Dan and Harry probably know each other, that’s how much he goes there!”

Gabby’s eyes narrowed as her lips pursed, gaze directing toward the ceiling in thought.

“Harry? Harry who? I don’t remember who that is, never heard that name in my life.”

Her tone reeked with sarcasm, which made Y/n’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. As much as she wished Gabby’s negative remarks about Harry were comedic, there was always something about them that infuriated her. She always supposed it was the instinctual aspect of loving someone so much.

Gabby sighed as she reached her hand up to rub Y/n’s shoulder gently.

“Look,” she began, “you’re my best friend and I hate seeing you like this. You’re not the same Y/n I always knew, and I think you see yourself that way, too. And in all honesty, I don’t give a fuck about Harry anymore. As sadistic and twisted as it sounds, I don’t care about his emotions, or how he feels. He did this to you. He killed a part of you and I feel it’s my obligation to help you through this. So, please, go out with Dan tomorrow. He works at Monmouth, he’ll meet you before his shift starts at 1:30.”

Gabby’s arm slid off of Y/n’s shoulder at the shadow of uncertainty behind her eyes. Even though Gabby understood all the pain and hesitation, she didn’t want to see Y/n suffer another day. She just couldn’t.

“Please,” she whimpered, “Dan has been the only sense of hope I’ve gotten to make you happy again. Just do this one thing, please? And if it doesn’t work, then you can blame me. I’m just trying here.”

Y/n coughed slightly, her inability to say no wearing off of her at Gabby’s desperate pleads. It was an opportunity to turn things back around in her life, and if it didn’t go as planned, she really didn’t have anything more to lose.

She nods her head softly.

“Yeah—yeah, okay. I’ll meet him.”

Maybe this would be good for her.


Dan is lovely, always caring for Y/n and making sure she feels like royalty whenever she’s around. He puts her first, in everything, and made her start to feel somewhat alive again.

It’s cute, really, how effortless he is at giving someone so much attention. Y/n likes it—loves it, even, but it still never feels right to her. She sees something with him, but nothing long term, not in the way she sees Harry.

But he’s good for her now—when she’s at her worst and needs someone to be there for her. He’s able to provide her with the company she desperately needs in order to cure the possible fatalities that came with her broken heart.

“Thank you for the coffee, it was great.” Y/n smiles softly, her cheeks blushing slightly as she traces the rim of her coffee cup.

It’s nearly their tenth date, and they still meet at the Monmouth in the afternoon right before his shift starts. It’s become a routine for them, going out together before Dan drops her off at the parking station. It became something they both looked forward to throughout their week, and soon became more of a tradition between them.

Dan grins, almost instinctively wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulders so that her head makes rest on his chest. He sighs, pressing a small kiss to the top of her head before resting his chin where his lips once were.

“Of course. I’ll be getting out at around 6 o‘clock so maybe I can stop by for a few? Maybe watch a movie?”

He knows the answer before she says it—his constant attempts to get closer to her always seeming to fail. There’s always a hesitation, or always an excuse to prevent them from being alone together.

He’s well aware that there are parts of her that need to be fixed, still being completely destructed by her ex-lover. He’s tried tirelessly to get her to open up and to trust him, but there’s a thick barrier still in their way of each other. It disheartens him, to know she refuses to let him in.

She sighs, guilt evident in her breath as she softly pushes away from him.

She does that often, he’s noticed it.

She feels horrible for doing so every time. Everything between them has remained stagnant, nothing being built so that nothing could be knocked down. It’s not that Y/n doesn’t trust him, it’s that Y/n doesn’t trust herself. She’s still in love with someone else, and she can’t hurt Dan—not in that way.

“I think I’m just going to—“

“Yeah, I know.” Dan nods, arms moving to cross at his chest, “I get it. Just like every other time.”

Y/n reaches her shaking fingers to brush her hair behind her ear, guilt flashing in her eyes as she refuses to meet his gaze. She’s familiar with the look he has on his face well enough to know he’s upset again, being constantly shut down by her.

“I’m so sorry, Dan.” She whispers, “But I’m trying. I want to keep trying with you. If you let me.”

He looks unconvinced, as he’s been hearing this for a while now. But something inside of him can’t quit her, no matter how much his intuition tells him she’s a dead end. Maybe he feels sorry for her on a level he’s never felt sorrow for somebody else. No matter how much she hides it, she really does need him. Not in a romantic level, but she does need him to show her that he cares for her and that he’ll always be there. She needs that sense of security, and he’s the only one that can provide it for her.

“Yeah,” he nods, “we can keep trying. It’s okay, I’m here for you.“


Harry had been living in his studio for the past couple of weeks. It certainly wasn’t ideal, but it was much better than sleeping on his and Y/n’s bed—alone.

That’s all he’s felt since their break up—lonely. It’s quite strange, considering Harry had millions of supporters, an entire band throughout his solo career, and producers around him nearly every hour of the day. He used to complain that he never had alone time anymore, that between all the constant traveling and being at the peak of his career, it was hard to find time for himself.

But now, in the midst of everything happening in his life, he wishes to feel that sort of hustle again.

Y/n was the person that kept him grounded through everything. She was the one consistency in his life, which gave him all the more reasons to love her. Whenever he was overwhelmed with the pressure put on him, or feeling homesick during his travels, she was always the one to keep him at bay and give him a sense of clarity.

Home hadn’t become a house, instead, Y/n’s heart. Wherever she was, he felt at home. Even when she was half way across the world, it was her voice that brought him back and reminded him that, no matter how much he missed the walls of familiarity, home was always a phone call away. She gave him that sense of comfort everywhere she went, it was truly amazing.

And when he broke up with Y/n, he didn’t think of how much everything around him would be affected. He thought time would do them best—would help mend the relationship that seemed to be collapsing beneath their feet. Their connections were lost, replaces by uncomfortable silences and unbarring arguments.

He didn’t think of the consequences when he did it. He didn’t think about how lost he’d become, or how he had no place to call home, or how there was no consistency in his life anymore. There were so many aspects of his life that Y/n had given him—so much of them that he didn’t realize until she moved out.

It was the exact reason he started being around Jessica. She was a great distraction, a beautiful woman to take his mind off of everything.

They weren’t much of anything. Nothing about them was exclusive besides what the media saw of them: boyfriend and girlfriend moving in together in London. It was far from the truth, really. He was with her to terminate his dry spell and rid his loneliness, and she was with him because he infatuated her.

He ended it all, though, that same morning Y/n found Jessica wearing their shirt. The entire incident gave him a realization; that nobody could fill his void like Y/n did.

The fear of losing her forever and making her believe he was in love with somebody else was enough to break him out of his selfish ways. She had been waiting for him for months, and when he returned, he wasn’t the same man he was.

Not only did Harry know that Y/n lost all her faith in him—he lost all faith in himself, as well.


“I’m so screwed, Nick. I fucked up everything. Everything.

Harry was laying with his back flat against the studio couch, hands rubbing down his face as he tried to steady his harsh breathing.

It was just after he had run into Y/n at the grocery store, where she had seen Jessica wearing Harry and Y/n’s t-shirt. Although he was practically mute during the encounter, everything hit him at once after Y/n and Gabby walked out.

He called Nick in a hurry, incoherent and completely disoriented from the tears he’d broken down into. Everything he thought would be mended completely fell down on them—all because of him.

“Jessica was wearing the shirt with the—fuck, you know the shirt, and Y/n saw and she was such a mess, Nick. I didn’t even say anything to her, she was practically begging me to say something and I didn’t say a word.”

Nick sat cross-armed on one of the chairs, directly across from Harry. He wished he could have felt remorse seeing Harry in such distress, however, he never agreed with Harry’s actions and made it clear numerous times. In his eyes, this was karma’s ticking time bomb.

“You tend to be a real jackass sometimes, you know that?”

Harry lifted himself up so that he could sit properly. His body slumped against the back of the couch, head rested in his palm as he coughed uncomfortably at Nick’s choice of words.

“You let go of the best thing that’s ever happened to you and then you just move on, as if she meant nothing, and you think you just fucked it all up now? Over a goddamn t-shirt?”

Harry scowled at him.

“I haven’t moved on, and it’s more than just a t-shirt, you know that. That was ours.” Harry defended, glaring over at his direction.

“So why was Jessica wearing it after you fucked her on the bed you and Y/n shared every night for the past three years?”

Something about Nick’s words gave Harry a foul taste in his mouth. As much as he wished Nick didn’t say it in that way, that’s exactly what Harry did, and knowing he had to live with that for the rest of his life made his stomach flip inside of him.

He really did fuck it up. Nothing he did was excusable, nothing he did was forgivable. He betrayed the one woman he loved so dearly—the one woman he’d always consider his soulmate. He really, really fucked it up.

He gulped as he tried to find words to justify himself. There was really nothing he could say.

“She—she had just put it on while I was sleeping and when—when I noticed she just wouldn’t shut up about breakfast and I couldn’t just be like ‘Hey, Jess, could you take off that shirt? That belonged to me and my ex-girlfriend and I don’t appreciate it?’ How could I do that?”

He sighed, leaning his face into the palm of his hands as he looked back onto his experiences with Jessica. Was it all worth it? Was she really worth all of this?

“She means nothing to me, Nick. I lost the girl I love for somebody who doesn’t mean anything to me.” He whispered, “How do I live knowing that?”


It’s nearly two in the afternoon when Harry finally decides to leave his studio. He’s been working on some songs he found himself writing during his free time, something he found therapeutic throughout the past couple of months.

Recording and writing have become the only distractions that seem to work for Harry. Everything else became temporary. Writing out his emotions and singing the words he wishes he could say has been the only sense of closure he’s had in a while.

“Dan! Long time no see!” Harry smiles when he enters Monmouth, a familiar face being something he finds so relieving.

Dan looks up from his register, reaching over the counter to give Harry a hug as he greets him enthusiastically.

“Haven’t seen you in quite a while. On your lunch break?”

Harry nods as his eyes squint, reaching for the back of his neck as he reads over the menu.

“Yeah, kind of in a hurry today if you don’t mind. Can I just get a medium coffee with almond milk, please? And a slice of apple pie, feeling kind of brisk today.”

Dan works his fingers across the cash register, yelling out his order to the barista before making small talk about the weather. Considering Harry hasn’t been seen in Monmouth nearly as much as he used to, they both found it nice to catch up with each other for the short while they’ve been distanced.

When Dan reaches over to give Harry his spare change, an all too familiar silver ring catches his attention immediately. At first glance, he swears his heart stopped beating.

There’s no way, there’s just no way that could be the ring Harry gave to Y/n. Dan and Y/n have never met before, considering she had only visited here a handful of times during Harry’s lunch break. And even then, she would just stand patiently by the door while Harry waited to retrieve his order.

There’s just no way, but the top of the rose has a particular rust on it that resembles Harry’s perfectly—and no matter how long it’s been since he’s seen it, he’ll never forget what it looks like.

Harry’s hand grips onto Dan’s wrist instead of reaching out to grab the spare change laying upon his palm, flipping over his hand to inspect the silver ring snug almost too perfectly around his finger. He’s aggressive, movements harsh and face tight with anger, but at this point in time, the last thing Harry’s worried about is Dan’s slightly intimidated composure.

“Where did you get this?”

Unlike his demeanor, his voice is soft and breaking between each word. There’s an unrecognizable shift in his eyes when he sees the wear and tear Harry knows he caused before gifting it to Y/n. This is most definitely his, and knowing Y/n was the one who gave it to him makes him nearly throw up all the contents in his stomach.

“Girlfriend gave it to me,” Dan smiles “well, not really my girlfriend yet. But you know how they are. I told her I liked it and she insisted I have it.”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, making him nearly whimper when he opens his mouth to speak.

He’s never felt so much pain before. The breaking that was once only in his heart spread like wildfire across every bone and ligament in his body. It burns, the sudden realization that Y/n has a boyfriend, that Y/n is no longer going to be there—waiting for him—the way he always expected her to be, that Y/n has taken it upon herself to seek revenge on him so that he can feel everything she felt that one Sunday morning at the grocery store.

And it’s then he realizes that this is nothing compared to everything he’s put her through. In his favor, this is just a stupid ring her gave her for her birthday because he loved the way she twisted it around his finger. It didn’t have much value between them, just something small they shared. He couldn’t imagine the hurt he would have now, standing her, if Dan were wearing their Lover t-shirt.

“Wh—What’s her name?”

His voice is in a whisper now, only the slightest bit of hope draining from his body when he hears Dan speak again.

“Y/n. She’s a good girl, you’d like her.”

Harry almost laughs. You’d like her. He has no idea, he’s in love with her.

It’s as if every part of Harry’s body begins to shut down. Maybe it’s from the shock, or the overbearing pain he feels in his chest, but he suddenly begins to feel lightheaded. His muscles turn numb and all his orientation seems to scramble as if he’s intoxicated.

Dan’s eyes narrow when he sees all the color drain from his face, his eyes widened and soaked with tears. He watches as he nearly falls backward, only to balance himself with his foot when he takes a proper step away from the counter.

“Harry? Harry, you alright?”

Never fucking say my name again is the first proper thought that his brain can register. But his throat is tight and his tongue is numb. He attempts to take a breath of air, but he feels like his lungs are collapsing in his chest, preventing him from doing anything besides stumble uncoordinatedly out of the Monmouth doors.

He’s falling apart—that’s exactly what it feels like. He feels like every limb is falling from his body as he walks towards his car. He doesn’t know exactly how he’s moving, even if he’s stumbling on his own two feet and colliding into stranger’s bodies as he does so, he doesn’t understand how his body finds the strength to keep moving.

Y/n moved on. Y/n’s dating Dan. Y/n gave his ring to him. It’s all over, everything is over.

“No” he mumbles frantically, jealously flowing in his veins, chest heaving from the sobs that are threatening to spill out of him, “no, no no no.”

He starts to wonder where he’s missed it, and exactly how long it’s been since Y/n moved on. She was so broken at the grocery store the other week; what could have possibly altered her feelings that quickly? Did Dan really impact her that much?

But that’s his girl. Y/n is his girl, she’s the one he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with. Even with Jessica, even with everything that’s happened, Y/n is his soulmate, and there isn’t anything in the world that can convince him otherwise.

Nobody is going to take her from him. He refuses to believe she belongs to somebody that isn’t him; there isn’t an atom in his body that doubts their companionship.

Before he thinks twice—before he really gives himself a chance to stop himself—Harry slides his cell phone out of his back pocket once he reaches his car. He slumps against the hood as his fingers work furiously across his screen.

There has to be something, at least some sort of proof that this is really happening to him, that this isn’t in a nightmare he can easily wake himself out of. There had to have been a hint, a warning for him to have. She would have never moved on without saying something to him. They were so strong together, she would have never left without closure.

Nothing about it makes sense.

And then, he sees it.

He falls to his knees, hitting the concrete harshly below him. His body gave out from beneath him, his muscles and bones failing him.

It’s there, right in front of him, mocking him and all the shitty decisions he’s made. It’s there—on Y/n’s private Instagram page—a picture of Dan holding Y/n’s hand on top of a table in Monmouth, Harry’s ring wrapped perfectly around his pointer finger.

Steele rose has never looked so good xx.

every road leads to an end

this is for everyone in my inbox who asked for a mike coming out story.

***

Mike’s hands are shaking as he reaches for the phone on the corner of his desk - a hand-me-down he’d nabbed from Nancy’s room when she’d packed all of her things and headed off to college two summers ago. He nearly knocks the entire thing to the floor in his haste to grab it.

“Get a grip, Wheeler,” he mumbles out loud to himself, but he can’t quite stop the tremor from coursing through him - it’s the adrenaline, maybe. Probably not fear. Definitely anger.

Mike shakes his head and pulls out a piece of crumpled paper from his desk drawer, taking his time to punch the neatly-written numbers into the keypad on the phone. It rings once, twice, three times.

Keep reading

Cradled In Love

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Words: 2217

Warnings: “Angst to fluff to smut”. NSFW gifs (you know me by now!!)

Anon asked “I’m on vacation with my so called family which is breaking apart at the moment and um it’s really hard to be here with them and I can’t really enjoy this vacay so is there a possibility if you could write a tom holland one shot to cheer me up maybe with angst and fluff and smut and beautiful words of yours.. I don’t want to be here with these people and I want to cry every second of the day.”

A/N: So this is my first non-Bucky/Sebastian fic. It’s special because the anon who asked is having a super bad day…I know how it gets when family is a bitch to deal with (trust me all my extended family are a bunch of assholes!!!!) Anyway, here you go and I hope I did him justice. SENDING HUGS AND KISSES YOUR WAY LOVELY PERSON.

Permanent Tag List: @meganlane84 @mizzzpink @bringmetheemobands @kimistry27 @fireandicewillsuffice @vacam79 @amrita31199 @badassbaker @feelmyroarrrr @aekr @sexy-sea-basss @isaxhorror @actual-bucky-barnes-trash @cassandras-musings @kimistry27 @mo320 @ssweet-empowerment

Keep reading

I love you.

Originally posted by harrysimpact

Her.

All wrong.


This is the third and final part to my soulmate story. The other parts can be found above. Let me know what you think.xxx


“No!” her scream echoed around Harry’s apartment, the pain in her voice cutting through him and making his heart clench.
“Harry, no.” it was a whimper now and Harry pressed his eyes shut, hoping that when he opened them again everything would be okay.
But that didn’t happen. Y/N fell to her knees, the loud thump making Harry turn around and stare at her in shock. The sight in front of him reminded him of last night, when he was the one to drop down on his knees and sob until his lungs were begging him to stop.
Y/N curled in on herself, making herself as small as possible. Her loud cries were heartbreaking and Harry wasn’t sure if she was able to breath anymore because her loud gasps didn’t sound like she was able to take in any air.
He kneeled down in front of her, one hand on her knee, his thumb stroking over the fabric of her skinny jeans.
“You have to calm down or you’ll make yourself sick.” he told her.
But her sobs didn’t die down, if anything they only got worse.
“Alright.” he sighed and lifted her up with one hand underneath her knees and one underneath her arms.
She wrapped her arms around his neck then, crying into his shoulder. Harry walked her to his living room, sitting down with her on his lap. He slung a blanket over her body because he knew that always comforted her.
He stroked her head, his fingers playing with her hair. It took time but after a while she stopped sobbing and gasping for air, her breathing still ragged but almost normal.
“I m-made a mistake.” she said after a while.
Harry didn’t say anything, he decided to let her talk and not interrupt her.
“I know I should have told him. But I was so goddamn nervous. I’ve been with him for two years now, it just seems unfair to me to break up with him so sudden. He stood in front of me yesterday and he was so happy to see me and… I just couldn’t do it.”
Harry thought for a moment. Of course he knew it wouldn’t be easy for her but didn’t she know that it wasn’t easy for him either?

“You didn’t have to have sex with him.”
“I know. I know I shouldn’t have done it but… I needed comfort. I felt like no matter what I do, it’s wrong. I just needed to forget everything for a bit.”
“But you knew that I would feel it. I told you.” Harry scoffed.
“I-I hoped you wouldn’t.”
Harry shook his head and let her glide from his lap, bending forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.
“Do you even know what that did to me? You ripped my fucking heart out. I spent forever in the shower to somehow get rid of that feeling of you with another man but it didn’t help. I’ve never cried so hard. I felt you having sex with him before but now that I met you, now that I kissed you… You cheated on me. You did the one thing you never were supposed to do.”
Y/N eyes were cast down to the floor, starring at god knows what.
“I…” Harry stopped, he didn’t know if he wanted to tell her.
But he had to.
“I don’t feel you anymore.”
Y/N screwed her eyes shut, her head shaking from side to side.
“I… don’t have that feeling in my chest anymore.”
Y/N got up from the couch and stood in front of the big window, starring outside.
Harry cleared his throat and got up as well.
“Maybe it’d be be best you’d lea-”
“What do I have to do to make this right?” she whirled around.
“I don’t know.” Harry sighed.
“There has to be something, Harry.”
“You destroyed us.” he smiled sadly.
“I don’t think you can do anything.”
“You can’t stop loving your soulmate, that’s not possible.” she shook her head.
Harry stared at her. She started to walk over to him, cupping his face in her hands.
“I still feel you. I still have that feeling in my chest.”
Harry had to admit that her touch did something to him.
“Just tell me what to do.” she begged.
He hesitated for a moment. The thoughts in his mind swirling around.
“We’ll go to your place. And I’ll wait with you until he comes home. You tell him.”
She nodded her head furiously.
“Anything.”
“But I can’t promise you that that’ll make everything okay again.”
She smiled sadly but nodded.
She gazed into his eyes for a few more moments, before she leaned in to kiss him. But Harry whipped his head to the side so she could only reach his cheek. She closed her eyes with frustration, but pressed her lips against his skin harder.
“I brought breakfast. Maybe we could eat that before we go?” she asked him, somewhat nervous because she was sure that she couldn’t take another rejection.
“‘Course.” he agreed.

To say that breakfast was awkward would be an understatement. It was literally horrible. They sat across from each other, none of them knowing what to say or what to do.
When her phone dinged with a message she felt Harry tense up. Of course he knew who it was from.
“What does he say?” he asked with fake nonchalance, it may sound cruel but Y/N was glad that he reacted like that.
“He’s leaving work early. He’s home in an hour.” she told him, leaving out the 'I love you.’ he ended the message with.
“Then we’ll have to go.” Harry said and got up from his seat.
“Yeah.”

Once they arrived Y/N was shaking with nerves. Nothing was safe now. What would Matthew do when she told him? Hit Harry? Yell at her? Insult her?
And what would Harry do afterwards? Leave and never come back? Realize that he still didn’t feel anything?
She was scared. So incredibly scared.
When Matthew arrived it was like time stood still. He closed the door behind him and stared at Harry and Y/N, how he sat at the kitchen table with a frown and how she whirled around from where she was leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Um… hi?” Matthew said, confusion clear in his voice.
“Hi.” Y/N breathed.
“Who’s that?” he asked, referring to Harry.
“That’s Harry.”
They nodded at each other briefly as a way of greeting.
“My soulmate.”
Matthews eyes snapped to Y/N’s and lips parted with shock.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” she nodded.
“Well… it was about time, eh?” Matthew started to smile, a genuine one.
Y/N stared at him dumbfounded, like she couldn’t believe her ears.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Matthew said and walked over to Harry, outstretching his hand for him to shake.
“Nice to meet you too, mate.” Harry grinned softly and grabbed his hand.
“Probably not that nice, hm?” Matthew looked at him sympathetically.
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“I mean… My significant other has a boyfriend too and it rips my heart out. Probably the same for you.”
Harry nodded softly, his eyes catching Y/N’s who looked at both of them with wonder.
“So you two met today?”
“Um, no.” Harry replied.
“No?” Matthew asked and looked to Y/N.
“We… we met yesterday.” she answered.
“Oh.”
It was quiet for a moment, everyone seemingly lost in their own thoughts until Matthew realized that if they met yesterday…
“Wait. Yesterday?”
Y/N and Harry both nodded.
“But… but we had…”
“Yep.” Harry nodded, popping the 'p’.
“Oh goodness.” Matthews’s eyes widened.
“I’m so sorry, mate. I didn’t know.”
“It’s not your fault.” Harry stared directly at Y/N.
She closed her eyes and looked away.
“Um… I guess I’ll better leave now, yeah? I think you two have a lot to talk about. I’m going to get my stuff the next few days.”
“Okay.” Y/N whispered.
“I really am sorry, mate.” Matthew told Harry, patting his shoulder once.
“Take care of her, yeah?”
Harry nodded with a tight lipped smile.
And seconds later the door closed behind Matthew.
Harry got up from his seat, the chair creating an uncomfortable sound against the floor.
He stood in front of Y/N with his arms crossed, starring her down.
“I-I didn’t know he would react like that.” she stuttered.
“What did you think would happen, hm? That he would yell at you? For meeting your soulmate?”
Y/N stayed silent because she knew whatever she would say it wouldn’t help her.
“You’re really not making this easy on me, you know? I don’t know what I’m supposed to so with all this.” he spoke, his voice gentle now.

He sighed when he saw her starring at the ground, her bottom lip wobbling. He took a step forward, his hands touching her upper arm softly.
“I want to love you. I want to love you with every fiber of my being and start a happy life with you. But I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Can we at least try?” she whimpered.
“Love…”
“Please. We can take it slow, as slow as you want. I’d do everything to make you forgive me. Please.” she begged.
“I need time, okay? Time to think.”
She closed her eyes briefly, the thought of not seeing him for some time too much.
“Anything you want.” she agreed nonetheless.
Harry nodded and smiled softly at her before he leaned down. Y/N gasped, thinking he’d kiss her but his kiss only landed on her cheek.
And seconds later her front door fell shut.



The first day she didn’t see him wasn’t easy for her but she handled it.
It wasn’t any easier for him either but he pushed through it.
The second day was much worse, her chest felt like it was tightening in on her and her body was shaking the whole day.
Harry felt like he couldn’t breath, his lungs struggling and his headache getting worse with every minute.
The third day was the worst, Y/N was feeling dizzy and weak. Her body not being able to move a lot before her limps gave out.
Harry felt hot all over but cold at the same time. He wasn’t able to eat or do anything really because he was sure he would faint.
But he had to do something.
One thing.
He drove over to her place even though he was shaking so much he couldn’t even hold the stirring wheel still.
He knocked against the door and gasped when she opened immediately. She looked even worse than he imagined. She was still breathtakingly beautiful but she looked in pain. So much pain.
“Oh, my love.” he whimpered and closed the little gap between them, wrapping her in a bone crashing hug.
She slung her arms around his neck and breathed him in, finally feeling like she was able to survive again.
He pulled away from her a bit, only so much to close the door behind him and look at her.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. Of course, I love you. God, I don’t even know how I could think that I don’t. I think I just pushed that feeling away because I was so heartbroken and hurt and mad and… I’m so sorry.” Harry spoke, taking forever to get the words out.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me?” she cupped his cheeks.
“But-”
“No. You did absolutely nothing wrong. The only person who needs to apologize is me. What I did was the worst thing I could have ever done to you. I hurt you so much and I don’t think I can ever make that up to you. But I want you to know that I love you. I love you with everything I have and that won’t ever change.”
“I love you too.” Harry whispered.
Y/N smiled at him and stroked over his cheek with the back of her hand.
Harry gazed deeply into her eyes for a few more moments before he leaned in and connected their lips in a soft and loving kiss. Fireworks erupted behind their eyelids, butterflies in their tummies coming to life and their heartbeats speeding up.
“Show me. Show me how much you love me.” Harry whimpered when they parted again.
“Harry.” Y/N gasped.
“Please.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Just… not here.” he mumbled, his cheeks turning pink.
Y/N understood and nodded, threading her fingers through his.
“Then let’s go to your place.”


They bursted through the door once they arrived, kissing passionately and not parting for a single second. Harry led her through his apartment, claiming her mouth with his and stopping every few moments to pull her tight against his body and feel her closer.
Once they reached Harry’s bedroom he didn’t know what to do anymore. He never did this before and he was nervous, he didn’t want to mess up.
But Y/N made him feel safe with her. She was gentle with him and loving. She kissed over his chest once she removed his shirt, making him feel warm inside. She guided him to do the same and once he threw her shirt to the floor he did, kissing over every inch of her soft skin.

She helped him open her bra, letting the straps fall from her shoulders and throwing the thing across the room, as far away as possible. Harry pressed her chest against his with his hands on her back, moaning softly when her skin came in contact with his.
Y/N’s hand wandered lower after a bit of time, palming him over the fabric of his tight jeans before squeezing briefly and causing another moan to fall from his swollen lips.
She opened the button of his jeans when he seemed okay with it, pulling the zipper down right after. Harry wiggled the tight fabric from his legs, throwing it behind himself before he began kissing her body again, over her bare breasts to her tummy and to the waistline of her jeans. He opened them slowly and pulled them down, gasping softly when his fingers brushed against her soft legs.
Y/N guided his face to hers, covering his mouth with hers and making him press against her, the bulge in his boxers rubbing against her panty covered crotch.
She let her hand wander into his boxers, moaning when she felt how hard and warm he was. And how thick.
She couldn’t take it anymore then, needing to see him. She pulled his boxers down, freeing him and watching how his cock slapped against his stomach with how hard he was. He was so incredibly big, the bulbous head of him leaking precum and smearing it on his skin.
She touched him, letting her index finger run over the very prominent vein on the underside of him and watching how he twitched at the contact.
Harry stared at her, how she seemed so fascinated by him. He groaned when she took him in her hand, not able to wrap her whole hand around him because he was just so goddamn big. She moved her hand up, twisting it once she reached his tip and stroking down again. Harry’s mouth was opened in a silent moan, his eyes rolling back when her thumb stroked over his slit and gathered his precum.
She stopped then, knowing that if she kept going this would be over before it even started. Harry looked down at her with glassy eyes, already looking absolutely fucked out. He hooked his thumbs into her panties and pulled them down her legs, gasping once he saw her completely naked.
She spread her legs for him, letting him crawl in between them. He stared at her. Her pussy was pink and glistening with her arousal, some of it dripping from her. Her stroked his middle finger in between her lips, gathering some of her wetness and licking it off with his tongue. She tasted amazing. He spread her lips apart with two fingers and pressed a kiss against her, grinning when she moaned for him.
Even though he never did this before he let his feeling guide him and it seemed he did good by the way she got even wetter and moaned underneath his mouth. But she pulled him away once she was close to reaching her peak, pulling him up by his hair and looking at him with wide eyes.
He crawled up her body, hovering over her before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips, making her taste herself on him.
“You’re so good, Harry.” she whimpered once they parted, wonder evident in her voice.
He grinned at her, before kissing her again and reveling in the way she reacted to it, her back arching and a quiet moan vibrating against his lips.
“I-I don’t have a condom.” he suddenly realized, his eyes widening.
“I don’t either.” she sighed and Harry already closed his eyes in frustration, his head dropping to her chest in defeat.
“But I’m on the pill and clean, I promise.” she told him, making him lift his face to look at her.
“I’m clean too but… is that really safe? I mean-”
“It is. Just pull out.” she told him and Harry nodded.
“Are you sure?” he asked her one more time.

“100 percent.” she answered in an instant.
Harry took ahold of him and lined him up with her entrance, rubbing his tip over her slit a few times to gather her wetness before he slipped it inside, watching with wonder how her eyes rolled back in pleasure. He pushed in then, slowly but forcefully until he was completely inside of her, his balls pressed against her ass.
She pulled him even deeper with her heels digging into the small of his back, making him hover over her.
“You’re so big.” she whimpered, moaning when he thrusted the tiniest bit.
“And you’re so goddamn tight.” he told her and began to pull out slowly until only the tip of him was inside her before thrusting back in to the hilt and making her scream in pure pleasure.
Harry took it slow and made sure she was able to feel every inch of him inside of her, filling her up. He loved the feel of her warm and slick walls around him, how they clamped down on him once she got close and got even tighter.
He rubbed her clit then, making sure to make her cum as hard as possible. With his hips snapping against hers, his relentless circles against her bundle of nerves and his encouragements to let go she came. And she came hard. She trashed around, moaning into the air, her eyes rolling back and her pussy squeezing Harry’s cock. He followed soon after, pulling out in the last second, pumping his cock in his fist and groaning loudly when cum spurted from his tip and landen on Y/N’s body, painting her tummy with thick and hot streaks.
Once he milked himself for everything he got Y/N dipped her fingers into his cum and licked it off, cleaning her whole tummy like that while Harry watched with wide eyes.
“Goddamn.” he whispered what made her giggle.

He pressed a kiss to her lips before he dropped to the mattress beside her, his mind not seeming to comprehend what just happened.
“Where the hell did you learn to fuck like that?” she asked him after a moment, making him choke on air.
“I haven’t- I mean I told you I never did this before.”
“Then you’re a natural.” she stated.
He didn’t say anything, the blush creeping up his neck towards his cheeks.
“Seriously.” she said and turned onto her stomach to look at him.
“That was the best sex I ever had.” she told him and stroked his flushed cheek.
“Wasn’t exactly making love, eh?” he giggled after a moment.
“No. Not really.” she grinned back and leaned down to press her lips against his.
“We’ll do that during round two.”
And just like that everything was how it was supposed to be.

paint heaven and anger the gods

so the trailer for miss hokusai advertised one type of movie, and then the actual movie was …. something else entirely. but the trailer gave me ideas, so here they are:

there is girl –

no.

there is woman –

no.

there is a young woman, an old girl, and she has the eyes of youth but the weight upon her shoulders is that of age. or perhaps it is the other way around. perhaps she has the eyes of age, but upon her shoulder is the weightlessness of youth, of ignorance.

there she is, whatever she is.

her name is kana.

she is the daughter of a famous painter, known as juro. he is a man larger than life, and he paints wonderful things. he takes what is ugly, and makes it beautiful. he paints an unhandsome woman as a goddess, a sneering merchant as a king, a dirty city as a glowing capitol. he leaves all he touches brighter than it was found.

kana is not like her father.

she is a painter, but she is not famous. she has a mother she doesn’t speak to, and younger sister she visits as much as she can. she has pushed them both aside to follow her father, to sit with him in dirty shacks putting ink to paper as she does her best to make beautiful things. she throws off the expectations of her gender, of her station, of anything and everything in her pursuit to be a master painter.

technique is easy. she completes half of her father’s painting while he drinks, while he whores, while he seduces lords and ladies, while he paints empty things for empty people, while he leaves her alone in their dirty shacks. she can do the detail work, has a steady hand and a sharp eye, but when it comes to the whole picture – it is left lacking.

“her work lacks your beauty,” an old man says, talking to her old father while she kneels in the corner, ink staining her hands, the floor, ink just – staining.

“of course it does,” her father says, offhand. “how can she paint what she does not know?”

kana never expected lack of knowledge to be her downfall.

so that night when her father is gone, she does not stay in to work. instead kana paints her face, wears a kimono that’s too small on her, and goes to the worst part of the city, to where the alleyways and walls are stained red by the glow of the lanterns.

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for @portentous-offerings who is my sick buddy today. Feel better my friend ^_^ 

“She’s never going to love me.”

It was so quiet she almost missed it.

“What did you say Kitty?” she asked, her face still pressed into his back from where they were cuddling in her bed.

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said, rolling over and giving her a cheeky smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Are… are you talking about Ladybug?” she asked softly, feeling the knot of guilt that had steadily been building over the last few months of this strange friendship they had fallen into.

He didn’t bring up her alter ego very often. The subject of romance in general always seeming to carry some sort of bizarre taboo whenever he stopped by for his increasingly frequent visits. Not that Marinette had minded. She had Alya to cry to about her lack-luster love life after all, and given how unwaveringly supportive he was about all of her other problems, it seemed silly to hold it against him that he was uncomfortable talking to a girl about crushes and the like.

His eyes flashed guiltily and he rolled back over, staring out into the darkness of the room.

“Really it’s nothing,” he said again, but he couldn’t quite mask the defeated tone that colored his words.

It was a sound she was all too used to. The same defeated cadence that had echoed from her own lips after her disastrous attempt at confessing to Adrien 5 months and 27 days earlier that no amount of Rom-coms or Alya suggested poster-burning had been able to cure.

“Chat, it isn’t nothing,” she said, sitting up and gently trying to pull him back around. He didn’t budge, still keeping his gaze obstinately fixed at something that she couldn’t see. “If it matters to you… it isn’t nothing. Not to me.”

“It’s not appropriate,” he said softly, “and it’s not fair to you.”

“Shouldn’t I get to be the judge of that?”

“It would be selfish-“

“So be selfish!” she said with a slightly forced laugh. “Trust me, you have a long way to go before you catch up to my level of selfish so I am hardly one to judge.” She teased her fingers through his hair, letting her nails scratch delicately against his scalp and felt him relax in spite of himself.

“Yeah right,” he scoffed lightly, “your strange phone kleptomania aside, you’re a pretty stand-up person.”

“Hey, I will have you know I have been working very hard to reform my phone-napping ways,” she teased, hoping to draw out a real smile from him.

“You stole Alya’s phone just last week!”

“That was a special circumstance. I told you so,” she pouted. “Besides, Adrien doesn’t deserve to be taunted like that no matter what Alya might say about it,” she added softly.  

She felt Chat stiffen slightly, his cat ear twitching at her words, and she was once again suspicious that he knew all about her romantic trouble regardless of their lack of conversation on the subject. She flushed at the thought.

“You are one of the most selfless people I know,” he said, reaching up to grasp her hand in his own and give it a brief reassuring squeeze.

The guilt Marinette was feeling was almost overpowering as the thought of the secrets she was keeping from him weighed on her like a stone. He had never questioned how they had fallen into such an easy friendship, and she had become too attached to having him as a part of her life- her normal everyday life- to be willing to admit the one-sidedness of it all. Here she was getting mopey over someone she had sworn she was done chasing after in front of a guy whose heart she routinely seemed to trample into the dust. Talk about selfish.  

“Please just tell me,” she whispered, her fingers resuming their seductive strokes that she knew full well would reduce him to a compliant puddle in her lap.

He was silent for a few more moments before finally letting out a small defeated sigh.

“I was just thinking about everything and I guess I just…” he hesitated. “She’ll never love me. I know that. I think on some level I always suspected as much.”

His voice wasn’t bitter or angry, and that calm resignation shattered her own heart into a million pieces more than the actual words he was saying.

“I think,” he continued, “I think I will be ok with it. She loves someone else. She doesn’t really say much about it, maybe to preserve our identities or maybe because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings, but every once in a while she lets something slip and it’s not that hard to put the pieces together. I always thought it was so cheesy in the movies when people would say things like I just want her to be happy, but I think I get it now. She’s incredible and I am always going to love her, but she doesn’t need me to make her happy.”

Marinette could feel the tears pooling behind her eyes as the words poured out of him in his soft, even tone. Her fingers were frozen, buried in his lush golden hair, her breaths turning shallow and frantic as the words reverberated through her like an electric current.

She stared down at the boy beside her. Her precious, irreplaceable kitten, who loved her so fiercely and believed in her so much. Who was willing to call her out for her faults and yet somehow still believed her capable of rising above them.

“She’s smart,” Chat continued, his voice seeming to echo in the near silence of the night, “and I know that whoever she does choose is going to be someone who can make her happy. Somebody good and funny and able to keep up with her when she is at her best and keep her grounded when she’s at her worst. So I think I can be ok with that.”

She tried to imagine what her future would be with some potential lover. Her heart lurched slightly at the thought of Adrien, her own love that was apparently not to be. She brushed that thought aside and instead tried to picture a world where she was curled up beside some new face, running her fingers through hair that wasn’t blonde.

She had to choke back a sob.

The slight twinge of pain she had felt at the momentary reminder that she and Adrien would never be more than friends was nothing to the soul rendering terror she felt at the sudden realization that finding a new love would inevitably mean losing Chat.

They would still be friends. Of course, it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be like this. He would never impose like that. Not her Chat. Her partner who was good, and funny, and who had seen her at her best and her worst, who knew her better than anyone, and who still had never made her feel anything less than precious. Her dearest friend who just the momentary thought of a life without him made her feel like she was dying.

Chat let out a small self-deprecating laugh and Marinette wondered how she had ever been so blind.

“So yeah,” he said finally twisting back around to look up at her, “I think I’ll be ok. Even if she doesn’t love me.”

She gazed down at him, his brilliant green eyes glowing in the near darkness of the night, a tired smile on his face that she longed to see transformed into his usual infectious grin, as the truth hit her like a bolt of lightning.

“I do,” she said breathlessly, before leaning down to capture his lips in a long overdue kiss.

Gil’s Story Is My Nightmare

You know, it normally takes weeks if not months for my feelings to settle on a subject relating to fiction. Like, my first time through, it’ll wash over me, I’ll consider it a while, and then, eventually, I’ll come to a conclusion.

But Gil’s story rubbed me wrong on first run, and I easily figured out why.

Gil’s story is my nightmare as a gay man.

I know I’m not the first to sum it up, but I am SO frustrated and pissed off by this (and Mass Effect Andromeda’s handling of M/M relationships in general), I need to work it out of my system.

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The Way I Feel Inside (Part 2)

Summary: Part 2 to The Way I Feel Inside

Pairing: Eggsy x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Fluff? idk

Word Count: 1914

A/N: Well, it’s finally here. Sorry for such a long wait guys but I’ve just been busier than I expected. But, I’ve had some time lately to work on this and I’m sorry if it sucks. This was meant to be only two parts, but I’ve decided that it might just be a series. Please let me know what you guys think!

Originally posted by cast-away-my-doubt

It started with the room.

You rolled your eyes as Eggsy flirted with the cute hotel receptionist. He had been silent the entire flight to Paris. Of course, as soon as the attractive woman unbuttoned some of her blouse he was quite the chatterbox.

The hotel wasn’t the best the Kingsmen could offer, but they were being careful with their resources. No one wanted to risk anymore agents getting arrested, which meant a temporary frugal lifestyle for field agents.

From the outside, it appeared more of a prison than anything. You were sure you had seen the beginnings of a mugging on the ride there, and upon entering you noticed that the cold stayed with you. No heat. In the middle of winter. Lovely.

“Rupert, darling,” you started in the horrid accent your persona called for. Eggsy turned to you immediately, the receptionist forgotten. You yawned, unintentionally proving the point in your next words, “I think it’s time we headed up to our room.”

“Of course, love,” Eggsy replied in the same inflection, though it complimented his voice much better than yours. With a parting wink towards the blushing receptionist, Eggsy joined you in walking to your room.

For a moment there was silence. Then you couldn’t help but state, “You know you can’t be doing stuff like that, unless you want us to be compromised.”

“You’d best be worrying about yourself, Y/N.” He snapped back. “Unlike you, I have more than enough field experience to get this job done just fine on my own.”

You stopped mid-step, forcing him to as well. “Where the hell is all of this coming from?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You being an asshole is what I’m talking about. Ever since you came back from that mission in the Kremlin, you’ve been nothing but rude to me.”

Something flashed in Eggsy’s eyes, an emotion you couldn’t discern due to its swiftness. “Sorry if I don’t shower you with the same doting attention as everyone else at headquarters.”

You took a step back. “Eggsy I thought we were friends. Just because Princess Tilde’s getting married doesn’t mean you have to snap at me.”

“What does any of this have to do with Princess Tilde?”

“I don’t know. You tell me because Roxy says that that’s the reason you’ve been behaving like such a dick. Or is there something else no one wants to tell me?”

Eggsy just shook his head and opened the door to your room. Just the same as the rest of the hotel, it appeared rather dingy. It consisted of only one bed, a dresser, and a TV originating from back in the 70s. You headed into the bathroom, ready to change and sleep this trip away. When you exited, you found Eggsy making a make-shift bed on the floor.

“Really, Eggsy? You’re gonna catch a damn cold if you lay down there.”

“Well since I’m such a dick don’t you think I deserve that?”

“Maybe, but I need my partner to be in tip-top condition for this mission.” Sliding underneath the thin covers, you lifted the other side in a sort of invitation. He hesitated. “Eggsy,” you sighed, your sleepiness present in your voice, “just get in the damn bed already.”

He stood, though he did not appear very happy about it. He slid in next to you, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the extra warmth. You turned to face away from him, placing your hand underneath your head as you closed your eyes in an attempt to sleep.

A cool wind blew from outside. Due to the thin walls of the shithole of a hotel, the breeze came straight into the room. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, and you released a shiver.

Without any warning, a large, muscular arm wrapped around your waist. You turned to find your eyes centimeters away from a broad chest you had tried your damn hardest not to picture for the longest time.

You glanced up to meet Eggsy’s eyes. If you allowed yourself, you could get lost in them. But what good would that do? He didn’t see you in that way. And after what happened with Dean… you couldn’t fall for another agent again.

“I need you to be in tip-top condition too, you know,” Eggsy whispered, his warm breath fanning over your face.

You snorted in disagreement. “I’m the worst partner to have. Or have you forgotten how I got this?” You motioned to the stitches on your right arm.

He traced them with his fingers, ever so lightly. He remained silent, his attention solely on the wound, before he said. “You know, Y/N, you do this thing with your nose when you lie.”

“I do not,” you scoffed in disbelief.

He smirked the slightest bit. “Yeah, you do.”

Rolling your eyes, you snuggled a bit closer to Eggsy (for warmth of course). The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a deep sleep.

(Eggsy POV)

I stared at her as she slept. Not that I was being a creep. It’s just… she was beautiful, a real crumpet as the lads would say back home.

She looked so peaceful as she slept. Gone were the tense shoulders and furrowed brow. Those bags under her eyes, I reckoned she hadn’t slept in ages.

Man… I had really mucked up this time haven’t I?

Y/N was right, I was being a git. I couldn’t help it though. Her words replayed in my head all hours of the day.

“If you’re trying to imply I feel something for Eggsy, then you might need more rest than I do.”

Was I really that bad? She turned me down before I could even make a move. And now I definitely wouldn’t be able to because…

I released a sigh. Another breeze ran through the room. She shivered and scooted closer until her head rested in the crook of my neck. I couldn’t resist the urge to press my lips against the top of her head. The scent of coconuts invaded my senses. Damn, her hair always smelled excellent.

I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to end my day every day like this. With a better room of course, but me and her, in a bed (not even in a sexual way), with my arm wrapped around her. This felt so much better than waking up every morning with a cold spot next to me, just waiting to be filled by someone… by her.

Man… I had mucked this up big time.

(Time Skip – Back to Reader’s POV)

You awoke to find yourself laying across Eggsy’s chest, both of his arms wrapped around you securely. For a moment, you reveled in the feeling of someone holding you, of the warmth he gave off. Then you felt something pressing against your upper thigh.

Oh. My. God. You thought to yourself.

Picking up  your head, you glanced at Eggsy to find himself deeply asleep. Once again you succumbed to the urge to just watch him and take him in. Sure, it was a creepy thing to do, but could anyone blame you. As you took in his features, you thought back to how kind he had been when you were falling asleep, and hoped maybe he wouldn’t act like a dick and that it had just been a phase.

“I know I’m handsome, darling, but there’ll be plenty of time to stare at the gala tonight.” You stumbled out of your thoughts to see a pair of twinkling blue eyes staring at you. “What do you say to a day out in Paris before we need to get ready, love?”

You nodded your head, your heart warming as you realized he would indeed be in brighter spirits than the past week. With a smile you untangled yourself from his arms, “I’ll go get ready, then.”

(Another Time Skip to the Good Stuff, Don’t Want Any Boring Bits)

You and Eggsy walked through the streets, arm in arm. You stuck close to his side, for his warmth of course.

Snow was a rarity in Paris, but of course you two had come at just the right day. Sure, it wasn’t terrible, but you were quite susceptible to the cold.

Eggsy didn’t say anything about you clinging to him however. In a way, to you it seemed as though he welcomed it, even going so far as to wrap an arm around you.

He led you to a cafe which he and Roxy had once frequented when they went on a joint holiday. Merlin forced them to take a break from the business, and neither had a romantic partner to spend it with, so the two figured it’d be better to be in the company of a friend rather than alone.

Upon entering, you grinned at the warmth and aroma of coffee. The hostess led you both to a booth and Eggsy took your jacket before allowing you to slide in. You took off your gloves. His eyes slid to the ring on your left hand. A ring he himself had picked out from the Kingsman’s stash of jewelry.

“Bonjour, monsieur et mademoiselle. Je m'appelle Mathieu. How may I serve such a lovely couple on this fine morning?”

Good morning, good sir. May I have a coffee, black, and a chocolate croissant.” You kept your head down so neither male could see your eyes widen and your jaw slacken at just how damn good Eggsy’s French sounded. It rolled off his tongue with ease, as though he truly was a native here.

“Et toi, belle femme?”

May I have a chai latte and a chocolate croissant as well?” Your words may not have been as effortless or as smooth as Eggsy’s, but they would work.

“But of course, mademoiselle. Such a beautiful woman must have a lovely name, I assume?”

“Amara Foix,” you replied with a glance to Eggsy.

And I am Rupert,” he introduced.

Well, Mr. and Mrs. Foix, I will bring your order up straight away. It should only take but a few moments.” And with that, your waiter was off.

In the time you waited for your breakfast, you and Eggsy talked about multiple things. Your families, your friends, and you even traded some stories from your youth. You had missed this companionship with Eggsy, especially how he could always make you laugh.

When Mathieu came back, you were covering your wide smile with your hand whilst Eggsy just stared at you in wonder. You blushed, and accepted your drink and croissant from the waiter.

“How long have the two of you been together?”

Three years,” you and Eggsy answered simultaneously.

“Le coup de foudre,” Eggsy whispered, causing you to blush even more and the waiter to smile out of happiness for us.

You two are very lucky. That sort of love is rare. Let me know if I could be of any more assistance.” With that, Mathieu was gone again.

You and Eggsy continued your easy going chatter for a while, but natural calls. “Excuse me, love,” you said, as you stood and went to search for a bathroom.

He watched you go with a smile on his face. Maybe, just maybe, he would allow himself to pretend that this was all real. That you were madly in love with him, that you two really were newlyweds.

No matter the heartbreak it may cause him in the end.

A/N: Please let me know what you guys think of this. And yes, there will be a part 3

Tag List:

@sunnyb99 @youarejustmymission @kazuha159 @strangerthingsimagine @little-red-gaming @iammadeofstarsandlazyness @magicintheelements @assgardstark @sammysgirl1997 @wantingtobekorra @icat8 @haydnromerx @shenanigans-and-broken-hearts @valeria-vs @kimskew @theamazingworldoffandomfics @julianakumiko @thilbob @kissingwintergoodbye @travelwithwords @runs-with-catapillers @theater-geek76 @lance-corporal-levis-maid @blueisolde @unequalprodigy @uaintkawaiibitch @emilyinwonderland3 @sorella-noir @awesome-and-articulated @starbabelc @flowerkrowndaze @stacieisaloser @marvelislove10 @fancybasementpersona @fandom-queen-of-hearts @peascarrotsandwatermelon @cruciosmalfoy @little-red-gaming @senselesssamii @mandakozzy @all-around-geek @helllaellla @serburt @dez-the-geek

Fall For You (M) | 03 (Final)

gif ©

Summary: You hate a lot of things about Jeon Jungkook; you hate his arrogance, his reputation, and his pet name for you to name a few. But most of all, you hate how right it feels for you to fall into his arms, and how easy it is to fall for him.
Word Count: 13,742
Genre: fuckboy!Jungkook, college au, sprinkling of feelings
A/N: I feel like I’m sending my child to their first day of kindergarten oh my goodness. I hope you guys enjoy the last part!!

Part 01. Part 02 + Drabbles

Mood music: X

A mistake.

It absolutely had to be a mistake.

There was no way you were in love with Jeon Jungkook, absolutely no way in hell you had feelings for him that ran any deeper than discontent. It had been the moment, the conversation with Jungkook, the awe you’d felt when he showed you his forest. You had gotten caught up in that moment, and your mind had tricked itself into thinking you liked Jungkook.

You didn’t love Jungkook.

You loved his dick. And that was all.

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lockedinmybody  asked:

daliaaaaa could you tell me your fave sterek fics please?? :)

How could you ask me this? Do you have any idea how many sterek fics I’ve read over the years? How many I’ve loved?

This is a short list of the very few I could think of off the top of my head. I think I’ll probably make a recs page, because I’ve been meaning to for a long time. I have a recs tag, but that includes different pairings as well.


Sideways and Slantways and Longways and Backways

“I called you a slave-driver!” Stiles cried hysterically. “I called you an ogre! I stole all the blue paperclips!”
Derek raised an eyebrow at him.
“That’s company property!” he shouted, waving his arms madly in distress.
Derek ran a hand over his face. “It’s not theft if the vice president of the company gives you permission.”

(Otherwise known as the Elevator AU)

The Price

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Around The Bend

The first time Derek catches sight of the new yoga instructor, Stiles is in the middle of showing a class how to do downward-facing dog. Derek walks into a wall.

Things don’t exactly improve from there.

Derek can’t stop staring at Stiles, the bendy new yoga instructor at his family’s gym. Stiles thinks Derek’s a repressed homophobe who hates Stiles for making him want the D. They fall in love.

can’t be hateful, gotta be grateful

“Be cool, Dad, we’ve decided to con Grandma.”

(Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma’s and she gets the right wrong idea.)

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epiphany pt.2 | jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook + Reader

Genre: Fluff/Angst + college au

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You hated his guts, especially after he ruined your chance at getting a good grade in one of your toughest classes. But why did your heart beat a little faster every time you saw him? And why did he feel the same way?

—–

Reader’s POV

As your eyes fluttered open, the bright light from your window piercing through making you squint, you felt something heavy strayed against your body. Finally adjusting to the light, a gasp left your mouth when you saw Jungkook in front of you, his chest rising up and down softly, as his arm was draped around your waist, having you flush against him.

Wha- OMG!” You exclaimed loudly, as you threw his arm off of you, scrambling away when your sudden movement caused Jungkook to fall off the bed with a large thud.

“What the hell…” he grumbled, his voice low and raspy as he got up on his feet, rubbing the side of his head as he stared at you through his lidded eyes.

“Y-You! You were–Why were you in my bed?!” You shrieked as you quickly looked down at yourself, the clothes you wore last night still donned on your body, a sigh of relief escaping you.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in alarm when a look of realization dawned upon him, as he stared at you, words spluttering from his mouth in a frenzy.

“Wai–It’s not what it looks like! I swear, I didn’t do anything! Y-you’re the one that grabbed me and asked me not to go and-”

“I did what?!” you exclaimed, your own eyes widening to the size of saucers, when Jungkook added, “Last night, you grabbed my wrist and told me not to go in your sleep and I tried but you just wouldn’t let me go so I thought I’d stay till you let me go but then I fell asleep an-”

Moaning, you fell to your knees in dramatic fashion, your head in your hands as you groaned in embarrassment, “Oh my god, I’m such an idiot. This is so embarrassing, this is so embarrassing!!!”

“Y/N–” Jungkook started when you lifted a hand up, pointing towards the door without lifting your head, feeling too ashamed too look him in the eyes.

“Please, just leave Jungkook-ah…I can’t. This is too embarrassing.” you begged as you saw his feet shuffle around, before he grabbed his stuff and made his way out the door, a breath of relief leaving you as you sunk against the wall.

“You’re kidding me?!” Seulgi repeated again while you were walking next to her, your shoulders slumped as your trudged down the sidewalk.

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Waving Through a Window

A/N Here’s this… thingie that I wrote for @analogically-prinxiety as a part of the fic exchange. Also huge thanks to @princeyandanxiety for putting up with my constant questions and helping me edit this.

Chosen Prompt: 1 - Soulmate AU

Pairing: Analogical (Anxiety/Logic), side Royality (Prince/Morality)

Genre: Soulmate AU, High School AU, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: many 8.6k (the k stands for kill me)

Warnings: panic attack, like a paragraph dedicated to this One Shove, heaps of swearing (courtesy of Anx) and uh… I think that’s it?

Summary:

Soulmates share an emotional bond where they can feel what the other is feeling. That has always been just an unimportant  fact that Virge has lived by. It was the same as someone saying ‘water is wet’ or ‘the sky is blue’. When Virgil’s old neighbour moves away and Logan’s family moves in, things start changing.

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