uncontrollable-feels

Hogwarts House Aesthetics

Gryffindor - thunderstorms, dancing in a rain storm, really close flashes of lightning, midnight conversations where you share secrets you never thought you’d share because you know they’ll never tell anyone, confrontation, the uncontrolled feeling of anger where you see red and your blood is hot in your veins, whispering during movies, loud bursts of laughter, voices gradually growing louder and louder in arguments, being a sore loser, adrenaline rushes, taking risks, goofing around, dancing like no one is watching, loud music and loud singing/yelling along, playfully insulting friends, over the top poses for photographs, being unable to keep a poker face, the sparks that fly off of fires, unbuttoned plaid shirts, talking back, everlasting incredibly fierce loyalty and love for their friends, the satisfaction that overrides all exhaustion after exercise, scraped knees, constantly covered in plasters, climbing trees, loud celebrations, giant hugs

Slytherin - tiny hidden tattoos, the cold but refreshing feeling of freezing wind hitting your face, resting bitch face, ripped jeans, being brutally honest with their friends when it’s needed without guilt, hoodies, the determination to prove themselves different to people’s ideas of them, an old teddy bear or knitted gift from their grandma they hide away but treasure, wary of too much affection, having only one or two really close friends and liking it that way, not wanting to share the things that bring them the most happiness because their favourite things belong to them, being able to find loopholes in everything and using it to their advantage, smug smiles when they know they’re right, the satisfaction of knowing someone is wrong and knowing they’re about to prove it, confidence, only ever respecting people if they prove they deserve it no matter how old the person may be, doing things just because people say they can’t, fierce protectors, swimming way underwater and pretending to be a mermaid, constantly cold hands

Ravenclaw - always getting the perfect present because they remember the smallest thing about you, messy smudges of paint on desks and skin, biting lips and tugging hair in concentration, the mixture of exhaustion and relief when they finally perfect their work, the sound of pencil against paper, saying they’re fine when they’re not because other things need to be focused on, always being ready to listen, giving great advice, elegance, the light shining through stained glass windows in churches, travelling to historic places, unfinished notebooks, unable to resist starting that new project even when they said they would take a break, knowing random bits of information that other people may find useless, classical music, listening to film soundtracks to concentrate, crumbling castles half hidden in fog, forgetting simple things but knowing everything about complicated stuff, realising the answer half way through a question and yelling it out, watching people pass by and trying to deduce their life

Hufflepuff - dungarees, flowers tucked into pockets, fairy lights, the feeling of warmth when you’re inside all cuddled up and there’s bad weather outside, blanket forts, decorating the walls with pictures of good memories, birthday cards filled with stick men and scribbles of inside jokes, oversized sweaters, decorating bags with badges, nicknames, not wanting to leave bed, wearing a blanket as a cape, laziness, swing sets and slides, the lovely feeling when a stranger is nice to you, the rush of happiness when you meet someone and just know they’re going to be a good friend, stickers all over their belongings, wind chimes, cottages in the country side, disney fairy tale movies, scented candles, singing christmas songs all year around and planning decorations in September, cheeks hurting from smiling so much, dressing up for halloween every year even if they’re just staying at home, lying on their friends laps, surprise presents even when there’s no occasion, collecting acorns, candy shops

Rage

Draco feels a tremor tear through him. His fists are clenched, his jaw muscles tense, his chest tight, his knees wobbly. He’s breathing heavily as his stomach twists viciously, the hot feeling inside it beginning to spread, infecting the rest of his body. Like venom. He stares down the empty corridor, lit by torches. His vision blurs, little spots appearing in front of him. He feels dizzy. He wants to scream. He wants this feeling inside of him to take physical form, so he can punch it, destroy it.

He wants the rage to leave his body.

Well, what Draco really wants is the cause of his rage to go away. How many letters from his father is he supposed to receive calmly, while Lucius keeps going on and on about how disappointed he is in his son, not sure if he can be even called his son any longer.

Draco feels sick. His stomach gives another twist, but Draco refuses to show weakness. He will not be sick. No. He hears, rather than feels, his jaw cracking as he tenses his muscles further. His arms are shaking now. Unthinkingly, he turns to the wall and punches it. Hard. He feels no pain, but there’s another cracking sound.

Draco feels his eyes sting, which only makes him angrier. This will not make him cry. He will not spill a single tear over this. And yet, he can’t seem to stop the hot tears from running down his cheeks.

He startles when he hears footsteps echoing off the walls. He hastily wipes the tears away with his sleeve and looks up. Of course. Of course it has to be Potter!

“Malfoy.” He sounds puzzled. “What are you doing here?”

Draco doesn’t answer and averts his eyes, in fear of Potter noticing he just had a moment of weakness.

“Malfoy,” Potter repeats. Draco feels a new surge of anger course through him. He wants to hit Potter. Hexing him wouldn’t be gratifying enough. He wants to physically injure him with his hands, his whole body.

Before Potter knows what’s happening, Draco lunges at him. His fist connects with his jaw and Potter stumbles backward. He blinks a few times, obviously flabbergasted and blinks at Draco stupidly. After a moment, he frowns.

“What the hell, Malfoy?”

Draco lunges at him again, trying to land a punch. His vision blurs once more, making it difficult to see where to hit Potter. But it doesn’t matter. Draco doesn’t care which part of Potter he will injure, as long as it hurts. He wants Potter to hurt as much as he does.

But Potter is fighting back. He hits Draco in the stomach, making him flinch. He welcomes the sharp pain. It numbs the other sensations in his body. It doesn’t last long, though. Once again, he feels detached from his body.

Draco’s not sure, but he thinks he got Potter on his shoulder and punched his chest, knocking the breath out of him. When Draco starts whirling around again, striking out in an uncontrolled manner, he suddenly feels arms encircling him, clutching him.

“Damn it, Malfoy, stop,” Potter shouts. He tightens his grip, trying to get Draco to stop moving. Draco fights against the restraint, tries to break free, but Potter is apparently stronger than him.

“Bloody hell, I heard you’ve been starting fights lately for no apparent reason,” Potter squeezes out while Draco still tries to get him off him. “What is the matter with you?”

Draco just grunts and tries to shove his elbow into Potter’s side. He fails. When all his attempts fail, he finally slumps down. Potter, surprised by the sudden extra weight, tumbles and they both go down.

Draco needs a moment to realise he’s half sitting in Potter’s lap, his body still somewhat encircled by Potter’s arms. It’s too much. Draco can’t take this. The hot tears he spilled earlier are nothing compared to what’s happening right now. He’s choking on his own sobs, every inhale torture to his lungs.

He can’t even win a fight against Potter, Draco thinks bitterly. Is his father right? Is Draco really a disappointment? Draco is faintly aware that he’s heaving and puffing, his chest aching.

“Malfoy,” Potter says quietly, uncertainty clear in his voice. He hasn’t moved his arms and Draco wants to slap them away, because the warmth that’s seeping through his robes is too bittersweet for him to bear. It’s not Potter’s intention to comfort him with this proximity.

“Your hand,” Potter suddenly mutters. Draco looks down at it. His hand his bruised and swollen, the skin on his knuckles cracked. He still doesn’t feel any pain. He’s just numb, like most days lately, not in control of his own body.

He hates that he can’t get up and just leave. He’s still sitting in Potter’s lap, sobbing like a child. Draco feels a tentative finger under his chin and tries to jerk his head away, but Potter’s grip is firm. He forces Draco to look at him and Draco can do nothing against it. He stares at Potter as several emotions pass over his face. His eyes are wide and his mouth opens to release a warm puff of breath. Draco feels it on his face and it’s like Potter has struck him.

The aching in his chest worsens and Draco breaks down completely. He lets his head fall down, not caring where it lands. The fingers under his chin disappear, as Draco’s head hits something solid. Potter’s shoulder, he realises, when something soft tickles his ear. Potter’s hair.

Draco knows this is wrong. He knows Potter is getting a glimpse of something, Draco has been trying to hide from everyone. He can’t show weakness. He just can’t.

He isn’t sure, at first, if he’s imagining something pressing into his back and the warmth on his cheek, until he tries to turn his head and finds that he can’t. Because Potter’s cheek is pressing into his, his arms are around Draco once more. He’s drawing circles on Draco’s back with his palms rather awkwardly.

Draco really does know this is wrong and he has no idea what possessed Potter to actually try and comfort him, but when Draco feels a warm hand move over his head and begins stroking his hair, Draco closes his eyes and decides that, just for tonight, he will forget about everything that is wrong.

pluto is the conduit of carnal, relentless desires. it’s something we will go to extreme lengths to satisfy in any way possible. pluto can become consuming if not sublimated, destructive and deadly. i think pluto expressing in its compulsive and uncontrolled form is capable of the 7 deadly sins 

Envy: Pluto in the 1st, Pluto in the 5th, Pluto in the 10th, Venus-Pluto aspects, Pluto in Libra, Pluto in the 7th The desire to have an item or experience that someone else possesses.
Gluttony: Pluto in the 2nd, Pluto in the 5th, Pluto-Jupiter aspects, Pluto in Sagittarius  Excessive ongoing consumption of food or drink.
Avarice: Pluto in the 2nd, Pluto in the 4th, Moon-Pluto aspects An excessive pursuit of material possessions.
Lust: Pluto in the 8th, Pluto in the 7th, Venus-Pluto aspects, Pluto in the 5th An uncontrollable passion or longing, especially for sexual desires.
Pride: Pluto in the 1st, Pluto in the 5th, Pluto in the 10th, Sun-Pluto aspects Excessive view of one’s self without regard for others.
Sloth: Pluto in the 2nd, Pluto in the 6th, Pluto in the 10th Excessive laziness or the failure to act and utilize one’s own talents.
Wrath: Pluto in the 7th, Mars-Pluto aspects, Pluto in the 12th, Pluto in Scorpio Uncontrolled feelings of anger and hate towards another person.

-C.

Knuckles : Boxer!Ashton (Part 4)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven

[Following anyone/everyone who leaves some form of thoughtful feedback x]

- Knuckles Playlist


It’s over? Finally, it’s over.

You’ve been anticipating the end of it for the last few days but only officially noticed the change when you swapped out of your university clothes for an outfit more comfortable to sleep in. It took too long for your liking, but the strange and unhealthy cravings have finally left your tastebuds, the lower abdominal cramps have finally disappeared, and best of all, you can now feel safe wearing white shorts in public again.

Your period, as nature always seems to plan it, couldn’t have been gifted at a more inconvenient time–just two weeks prior to Ashton’s next fight. They may not sound related, but not only have you been irrationally irritated with him over the last few days for strictly hormonal reasons, sending him off to gym sessions in less than great moods, but you also haven’t shared a night of intimacy together since the beginning of your premenstraul temper. You always hate how uncontrollably turned off you feel when you’re going through the monthly cycle, all the bloating and cramping antagonistic to your sex drive. You’re especially disappointed this time, because while you’re usually able to get back into swing of things once your body returns to its normal status, you might not have the opportunity to with Ashton’s upcoming match being so soon.

There’s a superstition–the origin of it a mystery to you–that has Ashton convinced he shouldn’t have sex in the week leading up to a fight. You know it’s got something to do with staying focused and bottling up the energy, and in the seven months you’ve spent with him you’ve been polite enough not to question it, but right now your hormones are going on a final rampage before they settle back down, and you want your boyfriend bad. Despite his strange rule you figure it’s worth asking since after tonight he’ll still have six more days to abstain, and honestly, what harm could one orgasm do?

Keep reading

Whipped...Boyfriend!!...(PT.3)

I’m sorry it’s taking forever to update, but thank you for being patient and sticking around!

If you haven’t, this follows the Whipped Friends series which you can read here

And then this came to be. You can read part1 and part2 first if you’d like.

Flashbacks*



Every tear that slipped, every muffled cry that got caught in his throat, every heart breaking sigh made Y/N break just a little more. Her Harry’s breaking down right before her eyes and she doesn’t know what to do, what to say, to make him feel better.

It’s never been this bad either. On days when he didn’t feel like himself, whether it was because he was feeling under the weather or just having a bad work day, a bath and a cuddle normally did the trick.

He would get home from a particularly bad day, body slumped and feet practically dragging on the floor. And Y/N would be sat on the couch in one of Harry’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts, feet propped on the coffee table, flipping through channels, the rim of a glass of red wine between her lips. She’d glance his way when a soft ‘hey, love’ escaped his lips, and she’d look at the way his tall frame would walk over to where she was, and knowing what was to come, she’d sit up straight and plant both feet on the white carpet, wine glass sat on the table. He’d offer her a small smile before toeing off his shoes and plopping down at the edge of the couch, giving himself enough room that when he lies down, his head would rest on her lap, eyes meeting hers. Only then would she ask what was wrong, and feeling safe, Harry would tell her about how his day went from bad to worse. She would let his fingers play with hers, his other hand resting on top of his chest, sometimes mindlessly fiddling with his necklace. She’d hear him out and nod accordingly, speaking when necessary while the fingers on her free hand worked to pull at his hair in twists. And Harry would feel better after, he always did. Just having his Y/N listen to him and empathise is all he needed sometimes, Harry just felt like he needed to be heard.

And that’s what she did. No matter the situation, even before they started dating. Y/N always made time for Harry, as did he for her.

She would listen and give him advice. When they were best friends she would gladly take on Harry’s problems, and she would console him the best she could by doing things Harry enjoyed, to get his mind off things until they came up with a solution together.

She still listens, and gives advice, now that they’re dating. She still takes on his problems, and she’ll console him the best she can by still doing things Harry enjoys. They’ll go out for late dinners, Harry still choosing to sit next to her, taking the chance to lay his head on her shoulder, arms crossed as they think up a solution to his problem. They’ll go for walks around town, popping by their favourite little cafe for coffee on a nice chilly day, and stay for a bit to chat to their favourite waitress. She’ll gladly watch rom-coms until the next day, too, and pepper him with kisses when she gets the chance.

But now, she’s not so sure that would even help.

What can she do? Other than let him get it out, let him sulk as she stays kneeled in between his thighs. The room’s fallen into a heart breaking silence, and no matter how many times Y/N’s pleaded with him, begged him to tell her what’s wrong, Harry hasn’t budged, hasn’t muttered a single word other than the phrase ’m'sorry, love. M'so so sorry.’ It’s the only thing he’s said since he wrapped his arms around her, grip tight like if he was scared that if he let go she wouldn’t be there. His sobs rack his body uncontrollably, she can feel the heaving of chest against her own in attempts to gain control, failed attempts to stop crying. She feels his hot breath on her neck every time he whispers those words, and it’s starting to scare her, not knowing exactly what he’s sorry for.

All she knows, all she sees when she finally pulls away from his tight embrace is red bitten lips. His cheeks blotched a dark tint of pink, and damp from the tears that’ve finally stopped. His eyes are red and puffy, eyelashes wet. Nose red from when he’d rubbed at it with the back of his hand to rid it of any snot.

“Need t'take a shower,” is all he says.

He’s not meeting her gaze.

“Harry-” she begins. She needs to know what’s wrong. She needs to know what he’s sorry for.

“G'na take a shower.” His head is pounding, the pulsing on his temples sending him into a daze the second he makes any effort to push himself up off the chair. He can’t remember the last time he cried this much.

But his head hurts, his eyes hurt, his throat hurts…his heart hurts.

And he can’t bear to look at the woman he’s hurt.

Heart heavy, he makes his way to the bathroom, heel of his hand pressing into his eyes.

He strips down, movements too weak that it seems he’s taking longer just to remove his shirt. When his feet hit the cold tiles of the walk in shower and the hot water begins to trickle down his back, he lets himself break down for the second time since he’s stepped foot in the house. He stands under the shower head, hoping the steam that’s building up mixed with the sensation of water washing over his body would relax him in the slightest, but it doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t.

Now, he’s gotta decide. Does he tell her now, or does he wait.

***

“You’d think Netflix would stop asking if we’re still watching after the tenth time of clickin’ yes,” Harry laughs, pressing the button to assure the telly that yes, they’re still wide awake.

They’ve been binging on the US version of The Office ever since Harry mischievously woke her from a nap.

She’d seemed spent when she got to his, instantly letting her body fall on his comfy white sofa. Harry had stepped away for no more than five minutes to fetch a blanket, only to find her asleep when he walked back into the sitting area. He’d taken off her shoes for her, leaving her to rest for about two hours, until he got bored of course. He’d finished the book he was reading, and had even taken some time to jot down ideas on his brown leather journal. When he had nothing else to write, he’d tiptoed back into the room, undoing the bun his hair was in and slipping the hair tie on his wrist. He had admired the way she looked, so serene, lips parted slightly to allow her lungs to fill with air. He thought maybe, if he pressed his lips to hers and she didn’t wake up, he’d finally find out what she tastes like. He’d always wondered. But no, he couldn’t. Not his best friend. Not like that and definitely not if it might ruin things. So he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and instead grinned cheekily, taking a few strands of his hair in between his fingers and bringing the edges of it to the apples of her cheek. He choked back laughs as he tickled at her temples, then just behind her exposed ear, and to the top of her lip. Harry’s eyes smiled at the way her brows knitted, and she’d brought the pads of her fingers to scratch where his hair lingered. It’d taken a good five minutes until she’d finally gotten up in disgruntlement, knuckled at her still tired eyes, and lightly pulled at Harry’s hair only for him to over dramatise the gesture and tumble forward, over the back of the sofa, and on top of her still laying body.

Harry had laughed at Y/N’s incapability to push him up and off her, his body clearly much stronger. And she’d only settled when Harry sat up, wrapped an arm over her shoulder, and pulled her up and into him, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. They’d talked about her day for a bit until Y/N insisted they watch the telly, and Harry couldn’t help but feel like there was something she wasn’t telling him, but he obliged none the less.

So now here they are, arguing over how Jim hasn’t said anything about his crush to Pam.

“What was that??” Y/N’s so involved in the show that Harry thinks she thinks if she screams loud enough at the telly, somehow the characters will be able to hear her.

“Harry, did you see that??” She moves to sit up, taking Harry’s arm with her.

“Paper, love. They do work at a paper company y'know.” She scolds him, stare kept no more than a second before she’s turning back to the telly.

“But why’d he take it? Didn’t he put it there for her to read!” She wasn’t questioning the fact that Pam was meant to see it, rather stated that Jim meant to give it to her for a reason.

“Maybe he changed his mind.” Harry knew what that would set off.

“Ugh-” she grunts, plopping back into his chest with force, but not enough to really bother him any, “why can’t he just tell her! Would save a lot of trouble.”

“S'not as easy as it seems, kitten.”

It never is.

“But-” she chokes out, “why?” Her voice small, hurt.

“Hey,” he whispers, like you would to get the attention of a sad toddler, “hey. Wha’s wrong, kitten?” He feels like there might be more to it than just Jim discouragement to tell Pam he likes her.

The light emitting from the TV allows him to see the single tear that’s making its way down her cheek, and he reaches out to wipe it with his thumb.

She laughs half-heartedly, “nothing, nothing. M'fine.”

But all it takes is that look. All Harry has to do is stare at her long and enough, and right into his arms she goes, sobbing and shaking.

It isn’t long until his white tee is soaked at the shoulder, his best friend clenching by where it’s ripped in a hole.

Harry rubs at her back when he moves her to sit on his lap. He sighs into her hair, eyes closed and chest heavy just at the thought of her hurting. His large hand strokes her hair as he rocks her back and forth. And when she seems calm enough, he detaches himself to look at her face, his hands reaching out, removing the strands of hair sticking to her cheeks, thumbs caressing at the flushed skin.

“Who did this to ye’, pet?” He’s pleading for her to tell him.

But she doesn’t say anything, just nods her head no and wipes harshly at her eyes to dry them.

“C'mon then.” He pats at her thighs once, and Y/N tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as gets up off his lap.

Harry kisses her forehead and whispers “be right back” before clicking the telly off and disappearing into the hallway in the direction of his room.

“Here.” He reappears with his long black coat on, his beige jumper in hand, handing it to her with a small smile. And yes it’s much too big for her, but it smells like Harry. And that’s okay.

She might not want to tell him exactly what she’s got going on, but he’ll be damned if he’s just gonna sit around not doing anything to lift her spirits up.

“Harry,” she whines. She really doesn’t feel like going out, not for the next year at least.

“Please, kitten. Jus’ put m'jumper on.”

She doesn’t question him after that. He hands her her shoes from where he’d placed them, and slips on his own.

They walk down the streets in silence with their hands in their pockets, Harry occasionally glancing to make sure she was okay.

“Know ye’ too well, kitten,” he says, hoping to get her to talk to him.

“M'fine, H.” And again, a weak smile he’d come to know as her 'tell’ in situations like this.

They’re nearing a corner when a body bumps into her.

“Sorry. M'sorry-” the guy starts, “Y/N?”

“Oh, hey man.” Harry greets, nodding his head once as an informal 'hello’.

She tenses up.

“Hey, Harry,” the hello’s rather quick as he turns his attention back to Y/N.

“Y/N, can we talk?” He reaches a hand out, but she steps back from his reach.

Harry notices how she’s looking anywhere but at her boyfriend.

The man glances at Harry once, a flash of irritation in his eyes.

“I need to talk to you,” and this time he grips her arm. All Harry does is stare at where he touches her, eyebrows knitted in…concern. Maybe even anger. And he can’t ignore the fact that his tummy had tighten in…jealousy?

Harry doesn’t need to see more, the situation clearly uncomfortable for her, so he removes the man’s hand, “don’ think she wants to, man.”

He snaps, “doesn’t concern you Harry. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Was.” It’s the first she’s said since they’d left his place.

“No. I just, let me-” he takes another step towards her, and this time Harry wedges himself in between them, one hand finding Y/N’s behind him, the other firm on the guy’s chest to halt any other actions.

He tries to look at her, eyes pleading, but Harry’s body seems to shield all of her from his view.

“I’m sorry okay.”

Y/N turns her head to avoid the man she thought she once knew as he makes his way around Harry and past her, the sob that’d been caught in her chest erupting from her throat.

“Wha’ happened?”

If Harry recalls correctly, he remembers Y/N was completely smitten with that guy. It was as clear as day when she first introduced him, eyes brighter than Harry had ever seen. And Harry was courteous with the bloke. Made conversation when Y/N brought him to gatherings, but they were never really friends, per-se. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was either. Maybe because she’d stopped going to his, making the trip only once in a while and no longer staying at his when he asked. Maybe Harry was jealous because for the year or so they dated; he had to share Y/N with another man.  No, not maybe, definitely, but he’d never admit that.

Y/N wipes at her eye harshly, a tear already threatening to fall.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” And she’d kept walking along.

***

Harry presses his forehead to the shower wall, tile cool despite the temperature in the room due to the hot water. He remembers that day. It was the first time he’d seen her that broken. It was the first time he realized how fragile she really was.

He also remembers the night she’d revealed to him the reason for the breakup. It was the same night he’d confessed his love for her. They had been talking about everything and anything, and after Harry confessed that she was the reason for the lads’ teasing, she’d shyly mumbled 'y'know. That’s why my last relationship didn’t work out.’

He’d been confused at first, until she’d explained that her ex had become overbearing. He had compiled an endless, and frankly absurd, amount of reasons for why he thought she was cheating. He’d admitted that he was very wary of Harry. He’d insisted and insisted that surely Harry didn’t want just a friendship from Y/N. It’d started with 'a guy knows when another guy is into his girlfriend.’ Which turned into 'I see the way you two look at each other’ until it became everything he could talk about. She’d tried to explain more than once that it wasn’t at all like what he thought. That Harry and her were only friends. But of course that didn’t help. Not when her ex knew them before he’d expressed an interest in her, not when he saw them cuddling at gatherings, or sharing lingering glances.

She told Harry how she tried to make it work, tried to defuse the situation, but when her ex had gone banging on her flat door, drunk and in the mood to fight, is when she’d called it quits. She told Harry how she wasn’t going to stand for it, not after he’d yelled harsh words, accusing her of having an affair and calling her a whore.

Harry remembers it all because it was the same night he’d promised he’d never hurt her in any sort of way. He didn’t want to be the cause of her sadness.

But now here he is, in a position he could never have thought he’d be in.

He exits the bathroom to find his bedroom empty, curtains still closed, rays of light illuminating a picture of the both of them in its respective frame. He walks to the dresser to pull out a pair of briefs and shorts.

Meanwhile Y/N’s been sat quietly on the white, soft sofa. Telly background noise to her thoughts, a foot tucked under her knee and her hands clasped together on her lap.

Her head whips up when she hears footsteps nearing from behind to see Harry, damp hair and all making his way to her.

She says nothing, rather watches meticulously at the way his body moves, a hand running through his hair to push the wet strands slickly back, his nose scrunching for a second and his eyebrows knitting.

“What’re we watching?” He coughs into his fist before taking a seat next to her and giving her a small smile, his hand on her bare thigh.

It feels like she hasn’t heard his voice in a hot minute.

When she doesn’t answer, Harry turns his head to press a kiss to her temple, allowing his lips to linger and his eyes to close as he breathes in her scent.

“I love you, y'know tha’ right?” His thumb rubs her skin, state holding hers.

She’s somewhat relieved to hear that, but it doesn’t settle her worries fully.

She nods anyway.

“Love you, too.”

Purple Jewels (M) 01

Word Count: 6,494
Member: Jimin x Reader x Jungkook
Genre: Smut, (Supernatural????) Eventual fluffyness & Slight angst

Genie!Jimin ⇢ Part One | Part Two | Ongoing

When you fall in love with Jungkook and he isn’t there to catch you, a sudden surprise shows up to give you a little bit of help.

cr.

Keep reading

I want you to feel the light vibration on my body as you lightly strum your finger tips on my back. Let me lay on your chest and get lost in the light beats your heart makes, I want to be taken far far far away to a tropical paradise heated with your body heat. Kiss me lightly on my forehead and make me smile uncontrollably. Let me feel the tremble in your voice when you say ‘I love you’ in your morning voice. Lets make poetry with our bodies, if any errors are made in the process we can always rewrite, over and over again, until its perfect.

how the moon signs feel
  • aries: they feel in explosions, eruptions; their heart is a fuse, and once it's lit, there's no going back. they think with their heart, rather than just feeling, and they use it as fuel, use it as a weapon.
  • taurus: their heart is a mountain, tremendous in size and impossible to move; it's framed by grass meadows and a gentle breeze. they feel in crystal outcroppings and veins made of minerals, in stalagmites and stalactites that take millions of years to build.
  • gemini: their heart is a desert at nighttime, bitterly and bitingly cold. sometimes, they feel in fireworks that explode upon a clear sky full of stars, and sometimes, the only thing they feel is the chilling wind blowing around them without rest. they feel in duality; either everything, or nothing at all.
  • cancer: they feel in waves that wash up on the shore during high tide, and all too often, those waves completely swamp them, making them feel like they're drowning. no one can reach them now.
  • leo: they have a heart made of gold, and they feel in spontaneous waves of passion, like paint splattering onto a perfectly blank canvas. they feel in the form of art; they are art, residing high up on the pedestal they have made for themselves.
  • virgo: everything is white; everything is pure. in their heart, everything is orderly, and everything has a place. when they feel, they disrupt that very order; they feel in earthquakes, shattering the windows and knocking over the memories they took so much time to arrange.
  • libra: purpose is essential. much like virgo, a libra moon's heart must maintain a state of equilibrium at all times. a libra moon's feeling can be personified as a tipping of the scales; feeling must have purpose to balance itself on the other side, or else equilibrium will be shattered.
  • scorpio: their hearts are a calm and cloudy sky above a pacific sea, and their emotions are like monsoons, completely wreaking havoc until there is nothing left to destroy within themselves. they feel in storms, in lightning and unforgiving gales.
  • sagittarius: their heart is free, and they often have to chain it down to keep themselves in check. when a sagittarius moon feels, their heart swells, and the chains holding back their heart break. they feel in uncontrolled pulses, pulses that run throughout their entire body and make their bones itch for freedom.
  • capricorn: their feelings take shape in the form of a slow burn, and their heart is the candle wick that keeps them burning. their feelings are steady and controlled; sometimes, if they aren't careful, the flame grows too great to control, and they burn themselves out.
  • aquarius: logic is key. in a way the opposite of aries moons, who think with their hearts, aquarius moons feel with their mind. they feel in neural synapses, neon blue sparks of electricity coursing across a circuit board to deliver information. their heart is insulated, and they've installed the necessary software to protect themselves.
  • pisces: a pisces moon is surrounded by fragments of dreams, fragments of things that could be and could've been. they spend more time in the fantasy world they've created for themselves than in the real world. they completely surround themselves in their emotions, and they feel in waterfalls.
Stay Professional! Pt. 11

Work AU! Fluff, Angst and smut: Jungkook x Reader

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 (12 has arrived! )

Summary: Jungkook desperately tries to fix his mistakes. Whether it be through his irresistibly sweet speeches or something a little more, you were bound to fall under his spell again. 

A/N: Yes I am back! Did y’all miss me? 😘 I honestly think the mothers are the best characters ever tbh (ultimate wingwoman goals). Sorry I didn’t update for so long- I had my Semester 1 exams :) As always, feedback is appreciated! 

Jungkook knew that there was nothing he could do. So why did it feel like he was waiting for a miracle to occur? He rhythmically tapped on the dark mahogany table with his slender finger, tension built up to his shoulders. He felt as though he was going to snap at any given moment. And he hated the feeling. He couldn’t stand the nausea that bestowed upon him when he thought about you. At least he knew he fucked up this time.

“Jungkook, may I come in?” A familiar voice interrupted his toxic thoughts. He quickly glanced in the direction of the elegant voice and a small smile of relief spread across his lips.

“Of course mother.” He gave her a nod of affirmation before standing up to greet her properly.

“You’re probably wondering what brings me here.” She smiled warmly at him and closed the door behind her before seating herself across Jungkook’s table.

“Sit, son. We have some talking to do.” She spoke in a gentle tone- but Jungkook was beyond intimidated. He felt like he was 4 years old again, getting lectured and scolded. But this time it was worse because it wasn’t Jimin lecturing him, it was Jungkook’s actual mother- whom before had no time to do that.

He gulped noticeably loud before looking behind his mother’s shoulder and he avoided her gaze completely.

“Is it possible for us to do this tomorrow? I’m really not feeling good today.” He confessed and his mother raised an eyebrow.

“Did you think I was here to lecture you?”

There was a small pause that intensified Jungkook’s childish fear. Despite being a grown man, Jungkook didn’t deal with authorities well because it was abnormal to have people of higher status than him.

“You’re not wrong my darling but that’s not my main intention. I’m here as a mother today. How about we sort things out together?” She suggested in a sweetened voice and gently placed her hand on top of Jungkook’s and his trembling stopped.

“As you may also be aware, I wasn’t very happy when I found out that Y/N left the company. I assumed it was because of you- you do have a reputation for firing assistants quite regularly so I wasn’t surprised. But she had so much potential and she brought out the best in you so I was generally upset when you fired her. Not to mention, you looked so much happier with her around.”

“For one, I didn’t fire her. She left because Jimin offered her a job at his company. He told her that she was a burden to me and so she left.”

Keep reading

Friends with Kids

I see your friends with benefits fics and raise you friends with kids.

A/N: So this started out as a list fic and then turned into 5,000 words.
 (Ao3)

For your consideration. Picture Holster as a coach for peewee hockey and there’s this little girl, let’s call her Piper, and she’s super cute and her parents are literally always late to pick her up from practice. Once Holster had to call them and remind them to come pick her up cause practice had ended an hour ago - and just, this girl is so awesome and loves hockey even though she kind of sucks at it and she carries this little Dora the Explorer backpack with her everywhere. 

So whenever she’s waiting for her parents to pick her up she’ll grab a book or toy or coloring book out of her back pack and at first she’d just play quietly while waiting, but then Holster tells the other coaches they can go on ahead (cause they’re always anxious to leave once practice is done since it’s unpaid volunteer work) and he starts talking to her. Eventually one day after practice she just sort of climbs up into Holster’s lap while they’re waiting in the lobby and gives him her book to read to her and his heart just? melts a little honestly

And he legit always comes home to Ransom - they’re roommates, again because Holster tried the whole nine to five thing three states away from Ransom and he would rather be barely making ends meet by working at the local hockey rink than making six figures if it means he gets to spend every day with his best friend - but that’s a whole other story. But anyway he is always talking about how smart Piper is and what funny thing she did that day. Ransom even feels like he kind of knows her because Holster talks about her so much. 

One day when they have a game on a day that Ransom has off from the hospital he surprises Holster by showing up. He talks to the other parents in the stands and quickly figures out which kid is Piper, because when they come out onto the ice Holster is practically carrying her and it takes almost a full three minutes of coaxing before she lets go of him and skates over to her spot on the ice. 

Ransom thinks that’s like the cutest thing ever. He asks the parents who are sitting near him whose kid she is and all the parents are saying she isn’t theirs and Ransom is confused before one of the moms sitting nearby asks who he’s talking about again. He points to number three on the ice and the mom tells him that Piper is in foster care and the parents – “are a steaming pile of shit.”

Keep reading

When your heart first gets broken, you kind of just stare at it lying on the ground as the world has been destroyed as you knew and loved it. You beg for him to come back, you try to make compromises, you ask what you did and what you could change. You’d do anything for him not to go because losing the one you love felt just like getting oxygen cut off. You ask if there’s anyone else they’re interested in as if someone who doesn’t have enough guts to break up with you in person is going to have enough guts to tell you there’s someone else. Besides, you knew hearing it would only crash the pieces into smaller pieces. He doesn’t want a relationship, he’s not ready, he thought he was, you know all the lies. Sadness and despair consume you as you see everything only through the eyes of what it would be like if he was right next to you. Maybe that funny joke would’ve been funnier or that fight with your parents might not have made you feel as horrible. But you still see them. I saw you in the halls, in my class, the sight of your being making me feel overwhelming pain emotionally and physically. I see you in my art, I see you in my memories, conversations, love stories, I swear I see you in public all the time but it’s never you. Some time passes and you start to feel uncontrollable anger, but this break up is old news to everyone and you realize all those “I’ll be there for you!” times begin to turn into subtle escape and solitude. He’s with someone else now. Already. Not even a month later. Not just anyone, but a good friend of yours. That cuts deeper and you have no idea what to do. I burry the ghost of you back into the corner of my heart you take up, it feels like more, but I can’t give you more. I keep the ghost of you locked there where no one can see you. They think you’re one, but you’re not. There is this hallow area in my heart that makes it hard to breathe. It’s the area your ghost takes up and I feel like it will never be satisfied unless your presence is there, but it won’t be. I miss you so much and I can’t stand when I do because I feel so helpless and I can’t take wanting you and not being able to have you, or even talk to you. All this time passes, and according to them you should be over it and as far as they know you are. The most precious thing I’ve seen thinks I’m irrelevant.
—  e.m // excerpt from a book I’ll probably never write
I’ve missed you (Loki x Reader)

Warnings: angst, fluff

Summary: Loki left you a year ago, and you’re still broken and miss him more than anything else. Suddenly he shows up. 

Note: English is not my native language, so if there are any mistakes, don’t kill me. 

Originally posted by luvn-loki

Originally posted by he-fisher

You looked up in the ceiling. What you felt, you did not know. It had been a year since he had left you, and you had no idea why you were feeling the same pain over and over. You had moved out of the apartment, gotten a new bed, sold all your green stuff. All just because you did not want to be reminded of him, his love, his presence.

“Why did you leave me?” you asked out in the empty air, getting out of the bed, deciding that you needed a shower. You walked out in the hallway, only wearing your white nightdress, and walked into the bathroom.

The dress slid of your body and laid alone on the cold, hard floor. You turned on the water, and a stream of cold hit your body, taking you back to him. When you touched him, his cold skin against yours, you constantly trying to heat him up, always failing but he loved that you even tried.

You stared at him. He was concentrating, reading one of your books. He loved reading, and you loved admiring the features of his face as he read. The smiles, the sadness, the brow raising, everything.

“What are you looking at love?” he asked you. You hadn’t noticed that he saw you staring at him. You blushed and glanced down. His mouth curved into a cocky smile that awoke the butterflies in you.

“Nothing I just-“

“Come here.” He said and signed you to sit next to him. You did as he said. You leaned your head to his shoulder, and even outside the clothes, you could feel his cold skin against yours. You shivered, and he noticed.

“I’m sorry.” He stated, well knowing of his coldness. He looked at you, in your eyes, looking into your soul. His face was pained, a little disappointed.

“It’s okay Loki.” You said and leaned back onto his shoulder, taking his cold hand in yours. You smiled at him and squeezed his hand, trying to make him feel better with his cold.

He looked at you, smiling, truly. Not one of those fake smiles everyone had posted on their face, but a true smile.

You realized you had forgot to breath, and pulled the air into your lungs. Tears streamed down your face, and you remembered all the times he had helped you handle your uncontrollable feelings.

He held you in his arms, dried your face, squeezed you, laid with you, comforted you, told you how much he loved you, showed you magic, been there for you when nobody else was.

You washed the shampoo out of your hair, hoping it would wash the pain out, knowing it wouldn’t.

“Why did you leave me?” you whispered to yourself.

You finished your bath and put on the white nightdress on again. Your wet hair fell on your back, making you shiver through the cold. You turned to get a cardigan, and a few meters from you, was Loki. He looked at you, mouth twitching. He looked down, ashamed of his actions. You got yourself together and moved closer to him.

“(Y/N) I-“

“Shut up.” You interrupted him, now only a few inches away from him. You could feel his breath, his heart beat, him being real. His green eyes were locked on your (Y/E/C) eyes. You noticed that his eyes were wet. The twitching stopped, replaced by a sad expression.

You had enough. You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, meeting his lips with yours. He was shocked by your sudden action, but was in on your game, and wrapped one of his strong arms around your waist, pulling you even closer to himself.

“I’ve missed you Darling.” He said when he pulled back for air.

“I’ve missed you too Loki.”


The next morning, you woke up in Loki’s arms. He was present, right before you. He was asleep, which was rare for him. You studied his sleeping. His bare chest, strong arms, his relaxed face. He looked so amazing.

You walked out in your kitchen, making a cup of coffee for yourself. You looked out of the window, into the quiet rain that was falling, hitting everything it could. You sipped to the strong coffee, enjoying the silence.

“Darling…” you felt his arms make their way around your waist. His breath in your hair. You leaned back to face him. He smiled at you, scared that you hated him for what he had done a year ago. You turned quick to face him. He held you close, bend down, forehead on forehead.

“I’m sorry dove.” He stated, smile falling from his beautiful face. You placed a hand on his cheek, pressing your lips lightly on his.

“It’s okay Loki, it’s okay.” You comforted. He looked down, holding back the tears that were forming in his eyes. You placed you hand on his chin, making him look at you. His eyes welled up.

“I promise baby, it’s okay.” You said, trying to kiss his forehead, but since he was too tall, you ended somewhere between his brows and over his nose. Your action made him chuckle, and he pulled you close and hugged you.

And so you stood like that. Arms wrapped tightly around each other, as if you could disappear in the next second.

“I am so sorry (Y/N).” he whispered in your hair. You smiled, knowing that he really was sorry.

“Promise me to never leave again, or at least take me with you if you have to.” You whispered into his cold, bare chest.

“I can’t. The places I go? I can’t bring a mortal, especially not you. If something happened to you, I would never forgive myself. Never ever.” He said, voice shaking. You pulled away, but not too much, scared that he would disappear again. You looked into his pained eyes.

“Next time, you bring me.” You stated, making sure he understood that he could never leave you alone again. He sighed with a chuckle.

“I will then, but I will be beside you at all times.” He said and kissed your forehead, successfully, unlike your attempt.

“I wouldn’t mind.” You smiled and kissed him perfectly on his lips.


@pineapplesbelongonpizza

@madman-with-a-snogbox

@nannna003

cosmic-files-87  asked:

2/11/15 MSR for the angsty list....I know....I am an ass.... (but really!!!!! Please write that!!!!)

2 - I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you.

11 - You can’t keep hurting me and then demand I apologize instead.

15 - You betrayed me.

Author’s Notes: Okay, this one hurts. Like a kick to the groin kind of hurt. I almost feel bad. It is high angst & will probably piss some of you off. If you proceed – you were warned. Post IWTB.

Two Weeks, Too Cold

It’s been two full weeks since she’s seen him.

She can’t remember the last time she went more than a day without hearing his voice – What’s up, Doc? – watching him as he watched her, or felt his broad chest against her back as he spooned her to sleep.

I won’t be coming home, she had said. Don’t do this, he had begged.

Scully keeps telling herself that she made a mistake by letting him kiss her as she stood in their front yard with tears rolling down her face, by entertaining the notion that they could ever hide from the darkness. It was cruel, she thinks, because even then she knew that she wouldn’t be coming back home.

Which isn’t exactly true, because she did come home, briefly, to gather a bag or two of her belongings. Her chest aches at the memory – of the desperate tears and of his voice breaking on each  I’m sorry and please don’t leave me.

That was two weeks ago. Two weeks that have been filled with work, because if she can’t help the man she loves then at least she can help a child breathe. Two weeks filled with too much coffee, because her fingers feel ice cold without his own interlaced with them. Too little sleep, because her skin trembles and aches without his hands there to gentle away the nightmares.

Two weeks, she has decided, is long enough.

I just want to see him, she tells herself as she guides her car onto the long gravel drive that leads to their shared home. The house is modest, but cozy. Most of all, it’s theirs. The few tangible things they’ve shared in the past have been wrenched away from them – but not their home. No blood to scrub out of the carpet, no taped X in the window to summon life-threatening information. It’s just home, and it’s theirs.

She steps out of her car into the crisp air of early morning to pull open the gate, and she smiles to herself. The ritual of it is comforting. Countless mornings and evenings have began and ended with opening this gate, letting herself back into the beautiful, private world she shares with Mulder.

Pulling into her spot in front of the house, she sees a strange car. She frowns curiously. Did he go out and buy a car after I left? She wouldn’t put it past him, except that it would require his actually leaving the house (and nothing short of a psychic priest has convinced him to do so thus far).

On her walk to the front door, her heart begins to hammer against her ribs at the thought of seeing him again.  It’s only been two weeks, she chides herself. Still, she expects that he may be angry. When he’s hurt, he tends to deflect – in his case, that means petulant withdrawal and an abundance of sarcasm.

She draws in a deep breath and unlocks the door. He may still be asleep, she realizes as she steps into quiet darkness. It’s just after five o’clock in the morning. Just because she hasn’t been able to rest doesn’t mean he can’t.

But oh, she’s finally home. She closes her eyes, relishing the smell of Mulder’s aftershave mingled with the scent of the roses he had delivered to her office just a week before those goddamned agents showed up at the hospital. She remembers bringing them home, carefully tucking them into a vase of water. They’re beautiful, she had told him. Not as beautiful as you, he had replied, his hand tucked against the small of her back.

“Who are you?”

Scully starts at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, opening her eyes to see a woman standing at the threshold where kitchen becomes living room.

A woman.

Tall. Brunette. Holding a glass of water. Wearing only a t-shirt and a confused expression.

“This is my house,” Scully says, the words scraping past a throat that has gone as dry as desert sand. “Who are you?”

The woman stares back, tugging at the hem of her t-shirt uncomfortably.

No, not her t-shirt. Mulder’s t-shirt. Scully’s favorite shirt that Mulder owns, because it’s soft and worn and somehow still smells like the cologne he wore the first time she slept in his arms, even after all these years.

I’m going to be sick, this is not happening, oh Mulder what is going on…

The woman finally speaks, clearing her throat. “He – he said he lived alone.”

I’ve wandered into the wrong house, Scully thinks numbly. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.

But no. That’s Mulder’s shirt, and that’s the drinking glass my mother gave to me when we moved here. That’s the couch where Mulder and I made love less than a month ago.

“Scully.”

This can’t be the wrong house, because that’s Mulder. He’s standing in front of her, and he’s not wearing my favorite shirt, he’s not wearing a shirt at all, and he looks terrified, and oh God I’m going to be sick…

“Mulder?” Her voice sounds tiny. Her hands are still freezing, but now her palms are sweating as her stomach churns. Please explain this, Mulder, she begs silently. Please please please please.

“Who is she?” When the other woman speaks again, Scully wants to scream at her. She has no right to ask that. Scully is the one who should be demanding an explanation. She’s the one who deserves an answer. Not this stranger, with her morning-after hair and her long smooth legs brushing the hem of Mulder’s shirt.

I’m going to be sick.

“Mulder?” This time, her voice is louder, sharper, less please tell me this isn’t what it looks like and more how fucking could you.

He doesn’t acknowledge the other woman’s inquiry, instead stepping toward Scully with his hand outstretched. “Scully,” he begins, and her name on his lips tells her all she needs to know. She’s heard him speak her names countless times – calling to her for help, playfully teasing her, comforting her in times of distress, moaning in ecstasy as she coaxes him to climax, even shouting in anger during a particularly intense argument.

Never – never – has he said her name with this desperate, helpless tone threaded through it.

The woman has disappeared, and Scully can hear her in the bedroom – our bedroom  – gathering her things, probably eager to get away from this house – our house – and whatever is about to happen between them.

Mulder moves forward, and she sees panic etched into the lines of his face.

She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head as the full realization of what’s happening settles over her. “No,” she chokes, swallowing against a throatful of stomach acid. “No, no, no.”

“I’m sorry, Scully, please let me explain.”

Her eyes fly open, and she wraps her arms around herself. “Explain?” Her voice catches on a sob. “What is there to explain?” She stares at his face, his beautiful face, and it’s more than she can take, his eyes full of regret. She backs away, grappling for the doorknob.

“Scully, don’t leave. Please.”

Two weeks, Mulder!” Her stomach aches, her head pounds, and I need to get out of here, this is not happening. “I was gone two fucking weeks!”

She is hot and cold at the same time, her clammy palms sliding against the doorknob as her fingers shake uncontrollably. She feels the heat of his body behind her, and oh God, she wants to lean into him, just to warm her hands, but nonononono, she has to leave, she cannot stay another minute in this house.

When he places a hand against her shoulder, her entire body recoils. “Get the hell away from me,” she gasps, her breaths coming in shorter spurts now, her lungs burning.

The doorknob finally relents, and she shoves against the door, stumbling outside where it’s still so cold, it’s not home, and she can’t breathe, and fuck you Mulder how dare you how fucking dare you.

He follows her across the yard. “Scully, please.”

She doesn’t break stride or respond. She’s almost to her car when she feels his hand catch the arm of her coat. She jerks free, but his grasp is lighter than she expected, and the heel of her boot slides against a leftover patch of ice. 

Under any other circumstance, she would have caught herself. The reflexes instilled in her all those years ago in FBI field training never failed her before, but she can’t even catch her breath so how is supposed to support her full weight?

Maybe she doesn’t even want to.

Her knee meets the ground with a sharp crunch, and she hisses in pain.

Immediately, Mulder is at her side. “Oh God,” he says, and reaches for her again. She slaps his hand away, and finally the tears she’s been fighting break through, streaming hot against her chilled face.

“In our bed, Mulder,” she says bitterly, leaning back against the tire of her car. “I was gone two weeks, and you fucked someone in my bed.” She tries to suck in a lungful of air, but is met with resistance when the breath halts on a sob. So this is what suffocation feels like.

“I was drunk,” he whispers miserably.

“When are you not?”

He flinches, but continues. “I don’t know what happened. Scully, I don’t even know her.”

“Where did you meet her, Mulder?” She glares through her tears. “All this time, while I’ve been working, have you just been out meeting women to bring back to our home? Our bed?”

“Of course not,” he breathes, staring at her in horror. “Never. You know me better than that.”

“I thought I did,” she whispers brokenly. “I never believed you would do this. Not in a million years, Mulder.”

“Neither did I.“ His voice is pitiful and sincere.

She swallows thickly. “You betrayed me.”

He sinks all the way down beside her. “I know,” he says quietly. “I know, and I’m so sorry.” There is a heavy silence between them for a moment before he adds, “Scully, you left me.”

Scully shifts to face him, and grits her teeth against the pain that the motion sends shooting through her knee. “You’re unbelievable,” she spits venomously. “You screw another woman in my bed, on the sheets you bought for me on my last birthday, and you’re making this my fault?” She fumbles with the top of the tire, trying to pull herself to her feet.

“Scully, stop,” Mulder pleads. “You’re hurt – your leg.”

“You’re damn right I’m hurt,” she snaps. “And it has nothing to do with my leg.”

She gives up on standing for the moment. “You never answered my question,” she tells him, her eyes burning hot into his.

“What question?”

“Where did you meet her? I’ve never known you to socialize, but clearly, there are a few parts of your character I somehow missed in all our years together.”

He stares at his hands for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I went on a walk and ended up at a bar. It’s a couple miles down the road. I had more than I planned, and she – she offered to drive me home.”

Scully folds her arms tightly around her midsection. The tire is wreaking havoc on her back, but she barely notices.

“Classy, Mulder.” She closes her eyes again, but the tears fall anyway.

He sighs. “You left, Scully. You just left, and you wouldn’t return my calls. I didn’t know if you were ever coming back.”

Scully tenses as another wave of nausea washes over her. “I left because you wouldn’t leave the house unless it was to spiral back into your fucking paranoid obsessions!” 

She covers her face with both hands. “You can’t keep doing this,” she sobs. “You can’t keep hurting me, and then demand that I apologize instead.”

“When have I done that?” His voice is laced with disbelief. “When have I ever done that, Scully?”

Fuck you Mulder fuck you fuck you fuck you –

“Fuck you,” she cries, gripping the edge of the tire again and heaving herself to her feet. “I don’t need you.” 

She ignores the throbbing in her knee when she puts weight on it. “I don’t need anyone,” she says, her voice breaking. “I think we both know I’ve survived greater losses.” She wrestles with her purse, digging for her keys. “But it’s fine. I don’t need any of you.”

Mulder touches her shoulder, and she shrugs him away again. “Don’t touch me.” She yanks her car door open. “I told you to get away from me.”

“Scully, I’m sorry,” he says weakly. “You may not need me, but I need you. I always have.”

“You didn’t need me last night,” she tosses back viciously as she forces key into ignition. “I can’t take care of you anymore, Mulder. Figure it out.”

He positions his body so that she is blocked from closing the door. “Scully,” he tries again, his voice echoing with despair. “I’m begging you. Please. You came back for a reason. Please don’t leave again.”

Her chin trembles as she answers him in a voice as brittle as dry ice. “I left for a reason, too.”

She grasps the door handle in her hand despite the remaining tremors. “Move.”

He slowly backs away, and at last she sees tears shining in his eyes. It’s too late, it’s too much this time, I can’t.

The sound of her slamming door causes him to jump. The pressure she places on her gas pedal makes her moan with pain as her knee protests the movement.

When she glances in her rearview mirror, she sees a tear-blurred image of her entire world, standing with his arms hanging helplessly at his sides.

He’s still not wearing a shirt, she realizes.

Go back inside, Mulder. It’s too cold out here.

I would know.

END.

Before you ask, yes, there will almost certainly be a follow-up.

THE SIGNS & HAVING CRUSHES

*i’ve listed many possibilites on how the signs can act around their crush. they may embody all traits or they may just embody some. venus signs may work as well

ARIES: becomes loud around their crush. will sometimes unintentionally become goofy. honestly does not realize how loud and weird they get when their crush is near them. will deny their crush at first, but will later realize and admit to their friends their feelings. smiles uncontrollably when their crush is name is mentioned, or when their friends tease them about their crush. very energetic and excited when around or near their crush. a lot of eye contact when speaking with crush, trying to analyze what they mean, how they feel, or how they react when they converse. 

TAURUS: can sometimes become touchy-feely around their crush. will become different around their crush compared to their friends, either meaner, nicer, shier, or friendlier. willing to try new things for their crush. talks about their crush a lot around their friends but does not admit that they have a crush on them. will sometimes be nervous around their crush. can sometimes be obvious that they like someone without knowing they are obvious. will text their crush a lot. willing to do almost anything for their crush (depends on their level of liking, though). will not open their heart very quickly, which makes taurus crushes somewhat rare. takes awhile to get over their crush. adores crush from afar, but likes to spend time with crush a lot. 

GEMINI: sometimes falls for people they can’t have and will either have their love unrequited or returned. it’s 50/50 for them. they are known to have a lot of crushes. they will have one, drop one, have another one, go back to the first, and so forth. cannot make up their mind on who they like. will flirt a lot even if they don’t intend to. teases crush sometimes. will help crush with their problems. when trying to impress someone new, they won’t show their playful side. can sometimes be fake around crush, not showing their true, full self. will actually tell crush they like them. does not deny feelings. will want to talk to crush. probably texts crush a lot. 

CANCER: will smile a lot around their crush or when they see their crush. likes to talk to their friends about their crush. can either be flirtatious around their crush or nervous. agrees with what they say even if they really, deep-down, don’t. will want to be around their crush a lot and would like to talk to their crush when they are not together. can get very clingy to their crush which either drives their crush away or entices them (depending on their crush’s sign). very sweet and romantic towards crush. can become very sad if crush is unrequited. takes a lot of encouragement from friends to move on. will tell friends about their crush (depending on how close friendship is). will ask friends of crush advice to woo their crush. 

LEO: tries to show off in front of crush. will try to prove they are the best one for their crush. can sometimes be quite seductive. will be very confident around their crush. tries to get attention of crush and can sometimes play games and flirt a lot. would enjoy spending time with crush. can be less self-centered around crush. very loyal to crush. 

VIRGO: tries to make crush laugh. talks a lot around crush to the point where sometimes people can’t understand what they’re saying anymore. very helpful towards their crush. tries to offer advice even if they cannot relate to their crush’s problem. will listen to crush’s problems. generous and helpful. i can’t stress enough how helpful they are with their crush even if they don’t need any help. 

LIBRA: talks to crush a lot but can sometimes forget to reveal crush to friends. if libra flirts with you easily, it probably is not a real crush bc they will become a bit more quiet/serious/shy around their crush. will try to avoid making crush upset or getting in fights with crush. will talk about crush to friends sometimes. will either talk about crush openly to friends or keep it a secret. compliments crush a lot. is silly around or with crush. 

SCORPIO: stares at crush. obsesses over crush and fantasizes about them being together or scenarios that would never happen. sometimes tends to ignore everyone besides their crush. will either have a small crush which is not that serious and somewhat obvious or a very intense crush where they wish their crush was never born because they like them so much and can sometimes be interpreted as hate rather than love. tries to learn everything about crush. can get jealous easily even though they are not yet dating. can sometimes play hard to get (which can come off as ignoring them & being mean) when trying to seduce a crush to see whether their crush will be devoted to them as they will be to their crush. 

SAGITTARIUS: texts their crush a lot. likes to try and get to know their crush better. very energetic around them. laughs a lot at their jokes (whether it’s good or bad) and laughs a lot in general around them. gets very excited and happy when their crush is mentioned, asked about, or talked about. talks to friends about crush but not obsessively. will admit feelings to crush bc they’re just brave that way. can get over a crush easily. can get very excited around or when mentioning crush. will get excited for crush when good things happen to them or will get excited with their crush. super touchy-feely around crush, like super. 

CAPRICORN: will be hot & cold. they’ll be head over heels for them and obsessive one day, and cold and aloof the next. thinks about crush constantly. they have the tendency to acquire short and quick crushes but will not fall in love right away. will always want to spend time with their crush to get to know them. they fall in “like” fast, but they will never fall in love fast. will help crush with anything. tends to stare at their crush when they speak. learns a lot about crush which can sometimes come off as stalkerish. afraid to initiate anything first. denies crush to themselves and to their friends. takes awhile to get over a crush, but does not realize it. will take interests in their crush’s interests. 

AQUARIUS: teases you a lot. will try very hard to hide that they do not like you, which is why they tease a lot. to tell the difference between an aquarius liking you versus an aquarius genuinely disliking you (when they tease), tease them back. if they get angry, then they probably hate you, and if they laugh or tease again, they probably do like you. will be comfortable around crush and will try to initiate conversations. is slow when realizing they have a crush on someone, so their friends may realize it before they do. 

PISCES: tries to make crush smile. very sweet and cute towards crush. very polite and helpful towards crush. can sometimes distance self from crush in fear of the pain of rejection but also because they are not fast to open up heart. takes awhile to admit they have a crush on someone to themselves. will not tell friends immediately about crush. very patient. will be there for crush when they are needed. 

Arkham Asylum Survival Tips.

This is from my decaying Quotev account. I wrote this so long ago now, but I thought it might be fun to put it up here.

Arkham Asylum survival tips.
As you know there are do’s and do nots to incarceration at Arkham here are some for a slight chance of survival.

Do not think singing the Batman theme song is going to result in any thing other than a painful expierance.

Touch Dr Crane’s books at your own risk.

Asking Edward Nygma if he wants to talk about his ‘daddy issues’ isn’t smart he will kill you.

Telling Deathstroke that Deadpool would totally kick his ass is grounds for immediate medication for talking about fictional characters again.

Flirting with Joker is a new level of stupid but be prepared for a blonde crazed Brooklyn women to try and kill you.

If you should escape and get access to the rogue’s confiscated weapons unless you hundred percent know what your doing don’t touch them and even then it’s likely they will hunt you down and kill you for the inconvenience.

Asking Bane who his dealer is isn’t going to get you any venom.

Please stop asking Copperhead if she can teach you swear words in Spanish, we do have Spanish speaking inmates and doctors it’s not a secret way to insult people.

Yes, Dr Crane is not the strongest person here this isn’t a go ahead to try and dominate him if he doesn’t get you back straight away then I’d suggest sleeping with one eye open for the foreseeable future.

If Edward Nygma should take a disliking to you giving him some puzzle books on the side isn’t entirely a bad idea.

Threatening ivy with weed killer doesn’t scare her, her ‘babies’ are quite capable of looking after their selves.

Trying to persuade Selina Kyle to curl up in your lap like a kitten is your own funeral.

Shouting 'CROWS’ around Jonathan Crane just to try and scare him is going to result in a frightening death.

Asking Victor Zsasz to cut your food up for you is inviting trouble.

Asking Waylon Jones where captain hook is, will most likely end up with you missing body parts.

Touch Osito and you risk being broken.

Singing twisted fire starter at firefly may seem funny to you but God help you if he starts one.

Asking Edward Nygma what’s green, purple and black and regularly gets his ass handed to him by Batman is seriously stupid.

Telling Edward Nygma that he can use his Cain on you anytime he wants doesn’t sound sexual he will take you literally.

Asking if Crane wants a new test subject doesn’t sound sexual either he’ll gladly take you up on the offer.

Playing music aloud is permitted as one of your recreational activities but please be mindful of what you play as the last time someone played Justin Bieber aloud a fire broke out, a bomb went off, Bane smashed through two walls and Jarvis tried to initiate a flash mob.

Telling Harley you want to joke and fool around with her is in affect volunteering your head for a game of croquette.

Telling Jonathan crane that he is the grim reaper is only going to give him an ego boost.

Singing I’ve got a brand new combine harvester around Pamela isn’t wise.

If your not afraid of bombs then by all means scream capitalism on the top of your voice around Anarchy.

If you should be unlucky enough to draw the attentions of Jarvis Tetch then it is best advised to inform a doctor or guard and not to tell him your the reincarnation of the red queen or the jabberwocky he’ll take this just as seriously.

Asking any of the female prisoners for nudes may be asking for your phone to explode.

Telling Harley Quinn that vampires aren’t as good as werewolves will put you into a no exit lifelong debate.

Trying to flirt with any of the doctors and asking them if they want to start a 'mad love’ will mean that your doctors may have to be switched to the same gender as you and if you still persist then we will be forced to only use video connection to speak with you.

Asking Batman to bite you so you can join his legion of the undead is going to result in a neck brace.

Shouting to the Batmobile might end up with you being chucked under it.

If there is a break out it is advised to stay in your cell for your own safety and not to try to form teams of your favourite rogues.

Don’t think it’s funny calling Penguin happy feet or Mary Poppins.

Neither is calling officer Boyles Scarface.

Starting sleeve fights with your straight jacket is not their intended purpose.

Cash’s hook is not a kitchen utensil.

Although movies are permitted in recreational time there are some rules to when certain films can be shown as different inmates are effected by different things.

Neither of the Silent hill movies are allowed when Dr. Crane is present.
Silence of the lambs is not permitted when Waylon Jones is present.
Stephen King’s It isn’t allowed around Joker.

The Saw franchise isn’t allowed around Edward Nygma, he doesn’t need encouragement.

Tim Burton’s Alice in wonderland isn’t allowed when Jarvis Tetch is around, this should be common sense.

Most violence filled movies aren’t permitted around Zsasz, you don’t really need anything to trigger him.

If you find that Dr. Crane is taking a frequent interest in your personal fears and phobias you should immediately tell a guard or doctor and not tell him stupid made up fears and phobias as if he finds out that your lying he’ll make it his personal mission to make you frightened of your own lies.

It’s best to humour Joker when he asks if you want to know how he got his scars?.

Bragging about animal abuse is not only grounds for time being taken away from your recreational time but you may incur abuse from some of the animal loving inmates.

Instigating wheelchair races is not the purpose of the wheelchairs and is strictly prohibited.

Telling Jarvis that the ghost of Arkham is watching him sleep will earn you solitary confinement.

Writing riddles on the walls and then trying to blame Edward isn’t clever, because he will pick so many holes in your argument and ridicule you so savagely that your likely to end up developing a self inferiority complex.

Trying to steal Osito to sleep with at night isn’t going to end well. For anyone.

Please refrain from stealing medication as we regret to inform you that we believe some of them may have been tampered with, if you begin to laugh uncontrollably, start to feel that Jarvis is making sense or ten foot cockroaches are stampeding through the halls please tell a doctor or guard.

Asking two face to flip a coin for every mundane decision you make is eventually going to end up with your life being determined by a fifty fifty probability.

Telling Jarvis that the Grudge is looking for him is again not acceptable.

There are some patients that suffer from insomnia and stress induced sleep deprivation, if said patients happen to fall asleep then leave them alone it isn’t your place to be as loud as you possibly can to try and wake them up, it’s not just really annoying but it could result in them taking it out on the first person to wake them up, so just make sure it’s not you.

We would appreciate it if everyone who frequents the gym to stop trying to get Bane and Waylon to lift increasingly heavy weights, it always ends in competitions turning into fights.

Male inmates who try to sneak into the female showers please keep in mind that the last time this happened his remains was recovered from the drainage system.

And in relation any female inmates who try to sneak into the male showers…are actually non existent, seriously no one wants to go in there. O_O

Please check your personal toiletries before using them, apparently Joker and Harley has an ongoing bet to see which one of them can dye the most people’s hair.

Trying to play whack a mole on the other patient with Harley’s hammer is strictly prohibited.

Please refrain from laughing at Riddler’s green hair, it is being resolved. :?

The rumours aren’t true there isn’t going to be a 'trick or treating crazies field trip’ please try to remember your here for your own rehabilitation.

Hair dryers are very welcome but trying to thaw out Mr. Freeze with them is not.

Please remember that giving medication forms into the doctors that have been signed by either Harleen Quinzel, Jonathan Crane or Hugo Strange are not valid they are patients their selves, there are reasons to why they can no longer practice.

Trying to show Jarvis Alice madness returns the game is strongly discouraged.

please do not touch Nightmare or Craw.

No, you can not have your straight jackets in sparkly pink.

Upon apprehension some patients may have their own personal work on their person, trying to plagiarise or copy their life’s work is going to end up you experiencing the product of their work firsthand.

Please use the doors and not make new exits.

Your sinking to a new level if you ask Mr. Freeze 'is your wife giving you the cold shoulder?’.

Deprive people of caffeine at your own risk.

Music Meister will not sing for you, why would you even want him to?

Killer moth isn’t going to follow laser pointers, he only dresses like a moth.

Touch Harley’s J necklace at your own cost.

The spinach in the canteen is not part kryptonite, and if your stupid enough to try and throw it at superman as a deterrent then on your head be it.

Detective J'onn johnz is not an alien.

No, Vicky vale doesn’t want an exclusive interview with you.

Jack Ryder might have published a paper on his triumph over Floyd Lawton but Deadshot says otherwise.

No you can’t phone Amanda Weller with your phone privileges and ask her to 'sign me up for the suicide squad!“.

Robin doesn’t have to sign in as a minor, stop insisting he does.

Bruce Wayne will not adopt you.

Music Meister will not serenade you, he might perforate your eardrums but he won’t serenade you.

Joker really doesn’t like cream pies in the face, who knew?

No you can’t use Zsasz as a living tally chart board when your playing pool, he might return the favour.

Deathstroke will not teach you some 'really cool Army shit!’ He could possibly demonstrate some 'really cool Army shit!’ On you but he won’t teach you.

The last person to sing Miley Cyrus’s wreaking ball actually ended up squashed by one, I have no idea how they pulled it off but they did, really creatively too.

Yes security levels at Wal-Mart are better, we all know.

Ichobod is not Jonathan’s real name.

Green arrow isn’t looking for maid Marian.

And no he’s not from the legend of Zelda either.

It’s quite easy to swipe Boles’s burbon. Just don’t tell him I told you.

Trying to lift Catwoman up like the lion king isn’t going to work.

Oswald isn’t pingu.

No you can’t redecorate your cell, it’s not meant to be homely.

Bribing the staff isn’t advised but we all know you could probably get away with it.

Batman isn’t into BDSM.

Ra’s al ghul isn’t going to die if you throw salt at him, you might though.

please be kind, I know it’s not the best written piece in the world. I’m resitting my English and maths and trying to improve by writing the subjects I like.