waits for angry or stupid comments about how ugly it is

popular text posts + ask memes

❛ i don’t know what i’m doing with my life, but i know i’m doing it wrong ❜
❛ i am so cute and bitter ❜
❛ my life is one part ‘wait’ and another part ‘what’ ❜
❛ my #1 talent is saying stupid things to people and immediately regretting it ❜
❛ i love sleeping to avoid problems ❜
❛ i hate myself a lot but i get offended when other people do ❜
❛ i’m hungrier than the neopet i neglected for nine years ❜
❛ hit me up if you wanna date a piece of shit ❜
❛ we need some new and more powerful swears ❜
❛ i get progressively uglier throughout the day ❜
❛ i’m so miserable, but i laugh at everything ❜
❛ i need something that is more than coffee, but less than cocaine ❜
❛ just because you’re trash doesn’t mean you can’t do great things. it’s called garbage can, not garbage cannot. ❜
❛ 90 out of 10 people agree that math is fucking lame ❜
❛ if you think i’m ugly now, you should have seen me in 2009 ❜
❛ 2010 me would literally be terrified of 2016 me and i love it ❜
❛ i have a rare skin condition called close the fucking blinds ❜
❛ hey babe, i made you this mixtape for valentines day. i don’t know many love songs, so it’s just uptown funk 18 times in a row. ❜
❛ there are people who know me in real life who think i’m straight and that’s really funny to me ❜
❛ i was cursed with expensive taste and a low budget ❜
❛ yo dude i trusted you wtf the fuck? what the fuck?? what the fuck what the ❜
❛ open flannel shirts and lingerie are the hottest thing and nobody can convince me otherwise ❜
❛ i’m the weird dad, wine mom, vodka aunt, and gay emo cousin all in one person ❜
❛ that awful moment when you wake up ❜
❛ damn haha i’m going to have to deal with that sooner or later ❜
❛ are we gonna fucking hold hands tonight or what bitch ❜
❛ people our age have children what the hell i am a children ❜
❛ i don’t like your clothes. take them off. ❜
❛ why am i only motivated to sort my life out at 4 am? ❜
❛ after i die, i’ll probably still complain ❜
❛ people are so petty and then here i am, me, an angel ❜
❛ if i don’t insult you daily, it means i don’t like you ❜
❛ do something with your life that would make a 1950s straight white man angry ❜
❛ i need to get laid… to rest. put me in a coffin. let my soul ascend. ❜
❛ i’m trying to be a better person, but some people are testing me ❜
❛ i’m overstressed and underfucked ❜
❛ i can’t wait to be a piece of shit with a bachelors degree ❜
❛ my emo phase never went away, it just aged like fine wine ❜
❛ my whole life consists of wondering whether or not to make the bitchy comment ❜
❛ i don’t have time for people who don’t believe in aliens ❜
❛ the lack of cuddling i am experiencing right now is upsetting ❜
❛ why do good concert tickets happen to bad people ❜
❛ i can’t play hard to get i’m already hard to want ❜
❛ i’m still pissed off about growing up ❜
❛ if you listen carefully, you can hear me whisper ‘shut the fuck up’ at least once every five minutes ❜
❛ when i die i want my heart donated to NASA so they can finally see what a black hole looks like up close ❜

❛ single and ready to take a 20 hour nap ❜
❛ write ‘nothing is set in stone’ on my grave as both a witty joke and a subtle warning that i will be back ❜
❛ how do people even put up with me like i can’t even put up with me ❜
❛ the opening riff to mr. brightside could literally raise me from the dead ❜
❛ stale cinnamon roll, been in this world too long, too cynical  ❜
❛ sorry, i’m poor. i can’t afford to pay attention ❜
❛ aziz ansari’s voice in the back of my head faintly telling me to treat myself is going to be my downfall ❜
❛ is it too late to wrap myself up like a baby and drop myself off on a billionaire’s doorstep? ❜
❛ my neutral expression makes me look like i’m always in a bad mood which is convenient because it’s usually true ❜
❛ i never run voluntarily so if you ever see me running you should start running too because something is coming ❜

Serendipity | (M) 2

Originally posted by jkguks

pairing jeon jungkook x reader, friendwithbenefitsAU 
genre/warnings smut, fluff, slight angst, swearing
words—5, 021

chapter 2 summary: ❝You set up camp in the pits of hell using the knowledge you gained from self-help magazines when Jungkook asks you a thought provoking question that might just change your entire relationship. ❞

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all to myself: vlog 4

“It’s hard to be a vlogger when half your subscribers care more about your hot friends than you.”
- Y/N, from her April 23, 2016 vlog titled ‘Jimin shows his stupid abs 8 times (not clickbait)

↳ vlogger au
pairing: jimin x reader, yoongi x reader

teaser&info | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | on-going

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get the fuck off of her || henry bowers

plot: y/n gets into a fight with Greta

Word count : about 1800

I have run out of gifs to use so I’m reusing this one

Originally posted by pennywise-fucker


“Hey there you fucking whore!” I turned around from my locker to see Greta standing there with her ugly ass friends. She was holding something in her hands behind her back. Let’s just say her and I didn’t get along well, at all.

“Whore? Nice try fatty.” I smirked crossing my arms.

She took from what was behind her back and it revealed my notebook. My eyes widened, considering that was my notebook where I would talk shit about people and talk about Henry. You’re probably wondering, ‘What do you mean talk about Henry?’ Him and I were civil with each other and I had developed a super small crush on him, but no one knew about it and no one was ever going to.

“I read what you wrote about me in here, ’Greta is such a fucking cunt. Not really sure why but Belch Huggins lets her suck his dick everyday after school at the Quarry, which she thinks no one knows about. I also heard that she was going around saying I was fucking Hockstetter, which he fucking wishes. If she keeps talking so much fucking shit about me I’ll make sure she keeps that big fucking mouth of hers shut.’ ”

I smiled, “I did write that, now give me my damn notebook back you fucking pig.” I held out my hands waiting for my blue striped notebook to be placed in them.

“I’m not done reading this great novel yet, oh this one is about Bowers.” She smirked while opening up to a page with Henry’s name on the top. Her friends giggled. My face dropped and I felt my heart sink.

I quickly walked up to her but her 4 friends pinned me back against the wall. They were much larger than me but I still tried fighting their grip. They held me against the locker as Greta began reading.

Today Henry and I worked on a project together in English. It was nice because I didn’t have to actually do all of the work. He was actually being nice to me, which he never is to anyone. I wish he would notice me more, but he never seems to.” Greta made a sarcastic 'aw’ at the end before chucking my notebook down the hallway, left open with Henry’s page.

“You’re fucking pathetic. You need 4 people to hold me back so I don’t rock your shit?” I grimaced, eyeing my notebook down, which laid across the hallway, not a person in sight to grab it. Thank god.

Rock my shit? Oh please I would love to see you try.” Greta emphasized, gritting her teeth.

“Okay well as long as you’re not pregnant, which I would check because you’re looking like you got a bun in the oven, I will 100% take you on bitch.” I cracked my knuckles as her four friends let go of me. I got ready to swing at her when I heard a male voice. Everyone stopped and turned their attention to the guy.

Well well Well, what do we have here?

It was Patrick Hockstetter, Henry Bowers, Victor Criss and Belch Huggins. Patrick held my notebook in his hands. I felt my heart drop, considering he had probably read it and showed Henry.

“You just arrived right on time, I’m about to pound this little bitch into pieces, wanna help?” She asked Patrick, trying to be flirty and ultimately failing. Patrick gave her a dirty look and raised an eyebrow at her, considering he was not attracted to her, at all.

“Y/n? What’d she ever do to you?” Henry quickly piped in, I glanced over at him playing with his pocket knife and not making eye contact with anyone.

“Oh Henry you must know something about Y/n …she’s a fucking whore. She goes around fucking everyone in sight and all she does is talk shit about me, someone who never does anything to her.” She innocently claimed when it was actually the opposite.

“I’m not a fucking whore, that’s you, cunt.” I spat at her and she whipped her head towards me, with a disgusted look on her face. She clenched her fists in frustration and anger.

“I suggest you shut your mouth before I shut it for you.” She pressed her body up against me, looking down at me, with a nasty face. God, she was so ugly.

Get the fuck off of me!” I shouted, right hooking her in the face. She immediately backed up and went to swing at me and I ducked, resulting her fist to collide with the blue lockers behind me. She let out a stream of curses as I snickered.

At this point I wasn’t even concerned about her. I was concerned about my notebook and if Henry saw his name in it.

The boys looked on intensely to the fight, Patrick was jumping up and down excitedly, weirdo.

She held her hand in pain and yelled for her friends to beat me up. They all lunged at me , yes all 4 of them, and began kicking me, punching me, and clawing at me.

Not a very fair fight, but I tried to pry them off me but it was no use considering I was on the ground and they were all grabbing me. I felt the blood leaking out of my nose and my cheekbone. I screamed out in pain as they kicked me in the stomach.

“Jesus fucking Christ, get the fuck off of her!” Henry screamed throwing the girls off of me as as I laid on the ground barely able to get myself up. He grabbed my waist and gently lifted me off the ground. I stood up leaning into him, considering I was too weak to keep my balance alone.

Greta and her friends looked beyond pissed, to say the least.

“Aw Henry coming in to save this weak pussy. You’ve turned soft kid.” Greta said trying to get him angry but he stood there unamused with her words, an arm still gripping my waist.

“I think it’s personally funny how you couldn’t pick on her alone so you made four times the amount of people beat her up. That’s not a fair fight.” He replied, completely ignoring her comment.

“Henry you do know she’s fucking obsessed with you right? She writes about you in that dumb notebook of hers.” Greta shot back, pointing to the notebook still in Patrick’s hands.

Henry raised a brow in confusion. Now I felt so embarrassed, he was going to read the entries about himself, in front of everyone. This situation could have not got worse.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Henry asked, gently tugging me along as he walked over to Patrick and took the notebook out of his hands.

“Henry- don’t read it. It-it’s stupid.” I protested, trying to pry the notebook out of his grip. I felt my heart sink as he scanned the page over, reading every word. Now I felt dumb.

“See Bowers? I fucking told you, she’s a freak. I’m not sure why you’ve become such a little bitch, helping defend her.” Greta said clasping his hands with satisfaction, seeing Henry’s eyes widen as he read each word.

I pulled away from Henry shamefully. I stared at the ground… I didn’t even wanna look at him. “I didn’t mean to write that. I didn’t know you were gonna see it. I’m sorry.” I muttered apologizing to him. With my head hung low I quickly walked away from the situation and heard Greta calling after me.

“Aw the little baby is leaving? We’re not done here Y/n!” I rolled my eyes at her shrill voice and kept walking.

“Greta! Can you shut your fucking mouth for once? If you don’t stop fucking picking on her I swear to god you’ll regret it. You got me?” I slowly turned around and saw Henry grabbing her by the collar of her shirt and shoving her against the locker. She heavily breathed out a “yes,” as he let go of her and she fell on the floor.

I stood there watching him angrily storm away from her and walk in my direction. Do I walk toward him? Do I say something? I shamefully looked up at him as he neared me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked holding up the notebook with a quizzical look engraved on his face.

His tone came out rather angry and aggressive but that was Henry Bowers for you. “What do you mean? Was I supposed to tell you I had a crush on you? Especially to someone like you? You’re not exactly the type of guy to openly admit your feelings for.” I mumbled, not wanting to piss him off.

“You could’ve just said you did…” He began but quickly stopped as he realized that I was right.

“Exactly. It’s not an easy situation.” I frankly admitted and crossed my arms over my chest. I shot him a dirty look considering he was being so difficult. Did he like me or not?

“You look cute when you’re trying to act mad.” He commented with a brief chuckle grabbing my cheek, the one not covered with blood, and pinching it.

I pushed his hand off, “Ha ha, very funny Henry.”

“You’re stupid by the way.” He said out of nowhere, I furrowed my eyebrows at his sudden insult. I let out a small sigh.

“How? You’re the one with a 1.9 GPA.” I spat getting very defensive.

“Do you know who I am? Since when have I defended anyone, especially a girl? Use your fuckin’ head Y/n.” He teased, putting his hand in my hair and messing it up.

I thought about it, Henry had never been so caring for anyone. It was a rather heroic, yet unusual action for him.

“Thank you.” I hummed, cracking a small smile at him.

“I’m digging the bloody look you got going, is it Halloween already?” He joked, pointing at the dried blood all over my face due to Greta’s friends.

“Oh shit. I gotta clean that up. Wanna come help?” I boldly asked, nervous to see what he was gonna say.

“Anything for you.” He promised grabbing my hand and dragging me into the boys’ bathroom.  I tried to hide the smug smile on my face but it was impossible to when I was holding hands with Henry Bowers.


I hope this wasn’t too shitty (((:

Party Games 5


How to fall for your enemy—A Dummies Guide

[1. Set the game] [2. Play like you mean it] [3. Keep playing and don’t ask] [4. Poker Face] [5. Play dirty] [6. Show him what you’ve got] [7. Don’t fall in the trap] [8. Cards on the table] [9. Play the game of love]

Summary: Playing games is an innocent and harmless thing to do. Except when you get so caught up in the game that don’t know if you are playing or not anymore, and then… Well. Then you burn

Chapter word count: ~3.2k

Rating: M

Tags: Watford, eighth year AU, alcohol, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, NSFW, smut, mutual pining, fluff, alternating POV first person

Also on AO3

Thank you @eroticgropefest for being my amazing beta!

@ellea-nikki, @indigo-gold-17 here you go ♡ ♡

5. Play dirty: Try slapping when kisses don’t work


“Four times?” Penny is giving me a Simon-are-you-off-your-trolley stare that not even her thick glasses can buffer. “You’ve slept with him four times,” she accuses, rather than asks. Pure Penny style.

“Not with him,” I tell her. “Beside him, rather.”

She adjusts her glasses with her middle finger and decides she’s done with lunch. “Different preposition,” she says. “Same difference.” She’s now giving me her patented Judgemental Stare. This is bad.

“Merlin, Penny,” I protest, taking her plate and stuffing the last piece of roast beef in my mouth. “There’s a huge difference, and you know it,” I mumble.

“Fine,” she gives in, softening her features. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah.” I fix my eyes on the now empty plate. If only we were allowed to repeat lunch, then I could avoid this conversation. Plus, more food. Double win. “Baz is evil and has a plan to finish me off, but I’m one step ahead this time,” I say, my eyes still on the plate.

“I’ll regret asking this later but,” Penny pauses for a moment, as if reconsidering it. “What is this evil plan, exactly?”

“Oh, uhm,” I say to the plate. “Baz is… Trying to…” I take a breath and say, “He wants to seduce me and attack me when my guard is down.”

Penny lets out a laugh. A loud one.

In my defense I’ll say it sounded better in my head. Why do some things lose all sense when you say them aloud?

I look up at her again.

“Nicks and Slick, you’re serious,” she realizes. “Attack you how? With his mouth?” She tries and fails to suppress another laugh, then continues, “So what are you doing to fight this terrifying plan of his?”

“I’m making him fall for me instead.”

“I think you have no idea what you’re doing,” she says, so matter-of-factly that it leaves no place for arguing. Penny usually has that effect on people.

Breaking news – I may have no idea what I’m doing.

We start heading out of the dining hall in silence and I think she’s going to leave without any further discussion when she stops and turns around, looking at me. Studying me. Penelope’s studying face can be very frightening. Hands down one of the most terrifying things I’ve seen. And I’ve killed a dragon. “Are you sure you don’t…” she starts. “Like him?”

Wait. What?

“I don’t like Baz,” I hurry to say. “He’s the enemy.”

“You’ve slept with the enemy, Simon,” she says. “Four times.”

“I’ve slept beside the enemy. Since first year,” I clarify. “And you kissed Agatha during the game, too, that doesn’t mean you like her, does it?”

“Yeah but we don’t go around snogging between classes.”

“You saw that?”

“You’re not being as sneaky as you think.”

“Anyway, it’s not like he likes me either… He hates me,” I say, realising for the first time that I’m not exactly happy about that. “And I don’t like him,” I add.

“Okay,” Penny says.

I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t like him,” I repeat.

“Sure, Simon.” I can see she’s trying hard not to laugh.

“I don’t,” I insist.

Penny raises one of her accusing eyebrows and says, “Nobody said you did.”

“You asked. I just want to make it clear.”

“Yeah, Simon. You made it clear.” Penny stares me down, smiling like she knows better. (She always does.) (Know better.)

“Let’s play Slap or Kiss tomorrow and you’ll see,” I suggest. “I’m going to slap him so hard.”

“What about the evil plan and your,” she pauses. I see the corners of her lips fighting a smirk. “Clever comeback?”

“This will confuse him.”



“It’s ridiculous,” she says. “This will backfire. Spectacularly. Like most of your plans do.”

Okay, she has a point.

“I don’t. Like him,” I insist for the last time.

“Okay,” Penny finally concedes. She breaks her know-it-all façade and grabs my arm.  “Just– Be careful.”

Keep reading

Reasons Why (Thomas Jefferson x Reader)

Words: 3480
Warnings: Cursing, mobile formatting
A/N: Here’s something while I’m on the plane :)


Your unique attitude .

Thomas walked into the room, holding a book in his hands. It was Finals week, and everyone was stressed out. The library was filled, students cramming, crying, and regretting their life choices. But not Thomas, of course. He took everything with a grain of salt. He didn’t have to strain himself like the others. He knew that he would pass. Some say that he was cocky, but he dismissed those comments as jealousy. Confidence is what they needed, and Thomas had it.

He noticed a woman sitting in the corner of the room, headphones on and hair a mess. He usually would ignore someone concentrating, but, there was something different. You were wearing an old college hoodie, holes in your sleeves. You were chewing on a straw, flipping through pages. You looked, strange. You were smiling.

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Home Alone or How The Grinch Found Christmas

Hello @killianjones, it’s me, your Secret Santa! It’s been a pleasure to talk to you during the past few weeks! And here I have finally your gift, I truly hope you like it!

title: Home Alone or How The Grinch Found Christmas

summary: Modern AU: Emma Swan and Killian Jones both planned to visit their siblings for Christmas… both were thwarted by the weather. Does it have to be a lonely Christmas for them?

rating: G and CF for Christmas fluff

word count: ~ 4,5 k

also on: ff.net and ao3

“Rob, wait!” A familiar voice stops him just when he’s about to pack up his stuff including the last remaining tree, a crooked, ugly thing. The voice comes from a bundled-up figure, muffled by an enormous scarf wrapped around his neck and lower half of his face. He squints his eyes, his sight a bit hindered by the clouds of his own breath and the snowflakes in his eyelashes. It can’t be, but it sure looks like it’s…  

“Killian? The bloody hell are you doing here?” he calls. “I thought you were long at home by now, already getting squiffy on Liam’s eggnogg!”

“I wish,” his friend growls and pulls the scarf a bit down. “Haven’t you heard that the airport’s closed?”

“Of course I have,” he replies, “but I thought you got out long before.”

Killian huffs. “My flight was one of the first to get canceled.”

“Bloody sucks!” Robin comments, and then it dawns on him. “So you’ve come here to buy a tree?”

“Bloody does,” Killian agrees grumpily, “and aye, that’s exactly what I want.”

“Well, you’re lucky, mate. I’ve got one left.” Robin sways his arm out in a worldly gesture, hoping to distract his friend from the fact that the only remaining tree he can offer is a short, crooked thing he should be ashamed to ask any money for.

Turns out, no such distraction is needed, because they’re both thrown off track by an equally bundled figure holding the tree in question in her gloved hand. The blond waves cascading down from under the already snow-caked beanie indicate it’s a woman.

“Excuse me, love,” Killian addresses her, “but that’s my tree.”

“Think not, buddy,” comes the dry and not very friendly reply, “it’s this guy's” – she waves the miserable little tree at Robin – “and as soon as I’ve paid him, it’s gonna be mine.”

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Big Baby [Feysand]

Prompt: Modern AU where Rhys gets drunk at the bar and calls Feyre to rant about how much he loves her.

Pairing: Feyre x Rhys (Feysand)
Genre: Humor/Fluff
Rating: SFW

Author’s Note: IDK what it is with me and writing drunk!acotar but I saw a prompt and I couldn’t get it out of my head that Rhys would 110% be the type of guy who gets super aggressive about telling people how much he loves them while drunk lol. It’s totally ridiculous but I hope you guys get a laugh! || 
@alicemoonwonderland​  @lady-therion​ || 

Previous SJM works - Bouquet Full of Loathing (Elucien) || Do the Do (Rhys x Reader) || Banned by the Boss (Nessian, Elucien, Feysand) || The Sun (Elucien)||  Till the Darkness Dies  (Nessian) || An Ember Among the Shadows (Azriel) || Forget Me Not (Elucien) || Boys Night Out (Elucien) || Boner for You (Elorcan)

Feyre sat back for a moment to admire her handiwork and her lips curved into a smile. She had been working on the painting for the past hour and was very satisfied with where it was going.

Cassian had decided the guys needed a night out and had practically blackmailed Rhys, Azriel, and Lucien into coming. She’d been at it ever since and it had been a while since Feyre had the apartment to herself and could just go at it with her painting.

Not that Rhys was a bothersome person to live with. But he certainly knew how to be distracting.

Keep reading

Because I Like You

Word Count: 1670

    A/N: this is a touch of Jealous/Protective!Jughead, but I have one more coming out here fairly soon that will be even more jelaous-y and protective-y and possessive-y than this so yay! *squeal* I hope you all enjoy lol!

Originally posted by beaniesxponytails


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Starco Week 3 - Bad Boy x Princess

Ok, so I didn’t really know what to do (didn’t have time to do an audio thing because I wasn’t able to plan for it) SOOOOO I decided I’d write a fic :p
So here it is! @starcoweek3 (based on the au by @fullertoons)

This ended up having some drama into it, so uh, yea, watch out. SORRY FOR BEING A DAY LATE!!

My first fic, so RIP my career

Thanks for reading!

The Date

“Uuugh” the young princess thought, patiently impatient to her date’s antics. “He better have a good reason for this!” Her thoughts harrumphed in a loud silence.

“Hey Princess~”, the lax, still maturing, voice called out from behind Star. The princess whipped around, trying to hide the daggers in her stare, but failing.“Oh I’m sorry, were you waiting for me long? I’m soooo sorry~.” Marco said sarcastically, with a devilish grin. The leather-jacketed boy walked up to Star, closer than the girl had anticipated. “N-no, I just got here!” Star stammered back shyly, blushing slightly.

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Pure-Love | Draco Malfoy X Reader

English isn’t my first language, so please excuse any mistakes.

Request: Hello! It would be amazing if you would please write a fluffy Draco Malfoy x reader where (Y/N) and Draco have always been friends, but unlike Draco, (Y/N) see’s the world in a different light. She believes there’s good where you look for it, the mud bloods are equals, etc. When she’s forced to become a Death Eater she’s devastated, but Draco is there for her like always.

Characters: Draco/fem!reader. Hermione and Sirius are mentioned.

Word Count: 1619 words.

Coming from a pure-blood family had its consequences. Most of them had rules, ways of acting were imposed in members since childhood. (Y/N) didn’t escape it. Her family was a traditional pure-blood family. Arrogant and hateful. Typical people who think they are better than everyone else.

One of the rules that was employed in this type of family was simple: be proud of your blood and pride the name of your family, and that meant: lower all others who aren’t like us to make us look better. And for that, all the people with whom (Y/N) had contact during her childhood was just as worse as her family.

During her growth, she attended several meetings that those families had. She had never understood the reason for it, but her mother made her go, always sending an ugly look to the girl when (Y/N) questioned her. Don’t question your ideals, just follow them. In one of those meetings she first met Draco Malfoy when she was presented to his family, which was close to hers. Both children were left out while the adults settled their own things, then they just start to like each other when the meetings began to be more and more frequent. As time went by, they began to ask their parents if they could see each other even when there was no meeting. They were both only children, they felt lonely at home.

Over the years, the two just became more and more friends. They would soon be in Hogwarts and could hardly wait for this moment to arrive. (Y/N) had never felt different from the rest of her family, even though she had realized that sometimes she disagreed with something they did. But she just noticed that maybe was something wrong with her in one of her conversations with Draco.

Both wanted to get in Slytherin, they had been raised hearing that everyone in the family had been part of that house and they hoped to continue the tradition. They were talking about it when Draco left out a nasty comment about the mudbloods. When the eleven-year old girl heard those words coming out her best friend’s mouth, a frown formed on her face and she felt uncomfortable. This has not gone unnoticed by the boy, but he didn’t seem interested in asking her about it. Or just didn’t want to leave the conversation even odder than it already was.

After that incident she began to hear that expression even more. Her parents themselves talked like that, something that she had never noticed before. And when asked about it, (Y/N) would refer to them as muggle-borns, getting some dirty looks from people around her. She didn’t understand why these people had so much hatred of those who had not wizarding parents. She didn’t understand why the different was bad. She didn’t understand why so much hate.

That was when she noticed: she wasn’t like them. And she wasn’t the only one to have noticed that. Soon everyone knew that the (Y/L/N)’s daughter sympathized with muggle-borns. Some of them talked about how she would be the “Sirius Black” of the new generation. And when some families began to avoid the child and her parents, she was punished. No one wants to be friends with a blood traitor. At least almost no one. Draco didn’t seem bothered to keep talking to her, although he avoid touching the subject “mudblood” when he was near her.

And so went another few years. They went to school and entered in Slytherin, which left (Y/N) very relieved because she was afraid of what might happen to her if she got in some other house. Draco made friends there, many because of his last name, but he never left (Y/N) aside. Yet the girl had a bit of difficulty in order to fit in her house, as the rumors had run fast by pure-blood families. She had friends, but not necessarily of her house. Not necessarily the kind of friends her parentes would approve.

The girl often looked at Draco and couldn’t understand why they were friends, especially at times he made fun of muggle-borns, especially Hermione Granger. But (Y/N) gave some ugly glances for her best friend when she saw him doing things like that, which made him walk away, but not before telling a final joke about the person he decided to tease.

Any of her friends also seemed to understand the reason of their friendship. But when Draco wasn’t playing the stupid Slytherin bully, when he was not acting for status, when he was being himself, he was a nice kid. He was a golden boy, and it was a pity that only her could see it. (Y/N) couldn’t forget all the times that parents punished her for something she had said or the way she had acted and Draco had been by her side, comforting her, though he didn’t seem sure of what to say to the sad girl.

After they had entered Hogwarts, her parents stopped annoying her so much. (Y/N) received several letters talking about the filthy people she was befriending with, but she just ignored and threw them away. Of course, every year when she returned home there were two angry people waiting for her at the door, but she seemed every time care less about it, which made Draco relieved. He wasn’t a good shoulder to cry on and didn’t like to see his sweet girl sad, so he was happy to see that her parents didn’t affect her anymore. He didn’t need to see her crying.

Until that day, at least.

Things had changed for them. They had stopped to talk much to each other. Draco was a Death Eater. It wasn’t so surprising to him, he had basically been created for this. But he was shocked to learn that the sweet little (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had become one too, short time after him. Her parents thought that way she would begin to see things as she should. Upon hearing the news that he began to notice that he was seeing (Y/N) less than before, she was quieter, she wasn’t being herself. Then he went looking for her when she didn’t appear at dinner.

Draco found her sitting against the walls of the common room. Her face was swollen and her eyes were red. A few tears were still running down her face and some sobs leave her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, slowly coming near her.

(Y/N) just gave him a cold look. She knew he knew what was wrong. Draco sighed, sitting beside her awkwardly.

“Don’t be like that.” he remembered because he hated when (Y/N) was sad, he never knew what to say. The girl rolled her eyes.

“Thank you for your help.”

His hand went to her shoulder in a comforting gesture. He opened his mouth again, trying to find words to calm her down.

“If you will say that you understand, give up, because you don’t.” she said getting up, wiping the tears from her face.

“And what makes you think I don’t understand how you feel?” he stood up, getting a glare from the girl.

“You don’t understand because you’re just like them.” some tears began to come down (Y/N)’s face. “I’m not like any of you, I will never be. I don’t belong here.”

Draco didn’t know why… Perhaps the way she had spoken it, perhaps the hateful look that his best friend was sending him… But that was the first time he was offended by being compared to his family. He was ready to respond, to deny that he was like his father, when he remembered that it wasn’t about him, it was about her.

“You’re right, I don’t understand you. But I know you. I know you well enough to know that you are better than all these people. And it’s not a mark on your arm that will change that.” her eyes lit for a few seconds with his words before returning to fade.

“It’s not just the mark.” she threw herself on the couch. “The things I will have to do. The people will have to be with.”

“You aren’t like them just to be with them.” he sat beside her, holding her awkwardly aside. It had been so long that he didn’t do this to her. “It’s not your fault.”

(Y/N) slowly allowed her head to lean on Draco’s shoulder, moving her arms around his waist. The boy’s body tensed at first, but was softening, bringing his best friend closer to him, leaving a kiss on her hair.

“I’m afraid.” she said after a while.

He couldn’t deny that he was too, but the only thing he could pay attention at the time was the fragility of the girl in his arms. Then he just rubbed her arms, letting out a:

“Don’t worry. We’ll be together, I will not let anything bad happen to you.”

She just muttered something in response, snuggling even more against his body.

(Y/N) looked up shyly toward the blonde’s face, making him look down at her. She gave a smile before attaching their lips quickly, then pulling away and returning to leave her head on his shoulder.

A small goof smile appeared on his face as he comforted himself closer to the girl.

“I’m glad I have you.” he said. “You are the only thing that is preventing me from turning into my father.”

The girl chuckled, and as she watched the other Slytherins coming in the common room, looking at them curiously, (Y/N) was sure of only one thing: having the same worldview or not, she and Draco would be together through thick and thin. Always.


Thank You

Anonymous requested: One shot with Chloe Bennet in which the cast goes to a bar and the reader gets insulted for being bi and she defends her and ends with some cute fluff. Pleaseee?? i love everything you write 💓💓

Fandom: Agents of SHIELD (cast)
Pairing: Chloe Bennet x bi!reader
Word count: 1.5k+
Warnings: Biphobia, drinking

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Cruising and Crushing

Summary Request:Dean has a huge crush on the reader but keeps it hidden until the reader has a date so he and Cas follow her and hear the date insulting her size and Dean comes unglued. All fluffy and funny. Pleeease. 

Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language

Content: Angst and Fluff at the End

Word Count: 1372

A/N: I couldn’t just write straight fluff for this. Sorry!

Originally posted by theccaroline

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Family Friend

Imagine: You and Kol having a mutual hate relationship even though you are friends with his family, one night you argue and he kisses you to shut you up. (Requested ~Smut~)

“Y/N come in, you look stunning.” Klaus welcomed you into his home, grabbing your hand in his and politely helping you inside. You blushed, looking down at your attire. A baby blue dress that stopped mid thigh and a pair of matching sandals, your toenails painted a deep Crimson. Maybe it wasn’t the wisest decision to wear such an outfit with Vampires in the room but the Mikaelsons were your best friends.

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The Shadow Brother (Jonsa fanfic)

Hey this is my first Jonsa fanfic and my first posted on tumblr. I’m not a native english speaker, so I hope you are not to harsh on my grammar, I tried my best. Anyways, I would love to see some comments from you.

The Shadow brother

Sansa doesn’t look at Jon when she is walking the path through the Godswood towards the Weirwoodtree, and towards him. She’s done this walk before, a thousand times in her mind last night, and once for real ages ago. The exact same walk, the exact same steps, nothing has changed, she thinks, and it’s almost comical because she knows it’s not true. Everything has changed. But she can’t make herself notice that it’s not the same groom. She only sees a looming shadow, if it’s Ramsay or Jon, it doesn’t really matter either way. Whoever waits for her in the Godswood, is far from what she thought her life would be. Sansa is angry with herself, because she still knows the childish dreams she once had by heart, despite her efforts to make herself forget everything. She thinks herself stupid and pathetic, because she’s unable to forget them. Remembering is a weakness she can’t indulge anymore. This tender spot in her soul is a flaw she can’t allow to herself. Especially after she had worked so hard to shut the door on everything tender, but obviously she failed to coat her heart with ice, at least not all the way through. She worked on being bitter, on being aloof, ripped the feelings out of her soul, as soon as they appeared, but there is no use to it now. There is a fluttering sensation just under her left breast and she can’t swallow it down. No matter how fierce she became, how much of the long winter lingers inside her, how strong she is, how much of a ruler she is, no matter how much she sacrifice to turn herself into this shell, this form she thought would serve her best in this world, she can’t disguise the small tremor in her hands. Walking through the snow, at the end of all wars, in a time for hope and happiness, towards him, it frightens her to death, that she still hasn’t changed enough.

Sansa still muses over romance, over the dream of it, the vision of it, things she only knows out of the songs she used to love. Princes and noble men, why is hope so hard to let go ? For a moment she pities herself while walking slowly towards her newly found out cousin, such a strange feeling, such a strange man. No not strange, it’s an ugly feeling, she realizes, born of vanity and sorrow. She has no right to pity herself, she wishes she could slap herself, make herself wake up out of this illusion, that possesses her against her will. Imaginations like that are hard to kill, she realizes. It’s her third wedding for political reasons and she still wishes for the one of love. She smiles bitter on her stupidity but doesn’t look up, afraid he could confuse it with something else.

Every step of the ceremony is known and familiar to her, she knows what to say, how to move, what to expect, hand cloaking her, brutal hands cloaking her, tiny hands cloaking her. All this she had done before.

Jon’s touch does surprise her though. He closes his fist around her hand as soon as she comes to a halt beside him. A gloved touch, but still warm and soft, and equally shaky. Then the words start to flow through the air, the night sky heavy with promising snow and piercing cold, and he grips her hard of the sudden. Sansa has to press back with strength to avoid him crushing her fingers. It’s a desperate gesture and she dares not to look at him. She feels the tremors run though him, up and down his arm, right into his hand up to his stony fingers, like a call, like some kind of communication. All she can do is hold on as fiercely as he does. Her hand hurts, but it’s not because of him. She feels how her own joints are straining with the force from holding on, matching his force for some reason. Something is welling up in her chest, something like a silent scream, hot and burning under her throat. It’s the thing what started as a flutter earlier, she thinks, suddenly afraid she might burn up, or freeze in motion at the same time. The more she fights it, the less she can control it. She fails to understand how a gesture of kindness and calming can make them both feel so lost, and lost they are, that much she understands. It’s a goodbye, a farewell to everything they should have been, but couldn’t, to one another at the brink of yet another change, she thinks. The moment when young dreams are burned and buried forever is finally here, and it came to quickly. It’s a bitter realization that the only ones they could turn to in this, for help, for comfort, are still just each other. It should have been different for him, for her. After learning so much, about his heritage, it’s hard not to dream about the life that could have been, but wasn’t. He could have been happier than he was, could have married someone he loved and make a claim on the throne. She could have been happier too, only when time could have been turned back, the dead could be alive again, and the family back together, without the lies and secrets. It’s the knowledge of this possibility that angers her now, the knowledge of the betrayal, of the lies that turned all their fates. It’s also fear, the fear of losing the only anchor she has left, once the wedding night would dawn on them. For all the things he doesn’t know, she knows with bitter certainty, that this is the end of them.

She wonders why this is still a concern to her, after all she’d experienced, but then she never learned how to have positive feelings for someone she is about to marry, how could she know different. She expects things to change fast, beyond any recognition, she expects distance where there wasn’t any before, as husband and wife there always is. She knows of the things she gives up marrying him, him of all people and she hates him for it, hates him for agreeing, hates herself for it, too.

When she realizes the stretch of a dutiful but lonely life before her, something inside her, under her ribcage, revolts against the containment of this prison. This time, it’s nor a flutter or a scream. She has to make an effort to keep herself upright, while this breath robbing thing rages through her body, makes her cold and sweaty and dizzy and nauseous and panic.

That’s when she loses her strength and the full force of Jon’s crashing grip hits her. But there is no pain. She gives up then, let’s everything happen as it should be, she speaks the words, turns and moves, feels his touch leaving her, feels the heavy weight he’s put on her shoulders and turns again, this time under a warriors touch. His hand doesn’t find her again, but she feels it trembling at his side, at her side, just in between the space where the wiry hairs stand up erect at its scared and rough back. When did he discard the gloves? It’s a strange feeling, ticklish even, mixed with a prominent heat that radiates of him in abandonment. She looks down like she is drowning and then up at his profile. His face strained, hard, fighting for control, a control over his life he lost so long ago, just like herself. Sansa could have wept then and there. Faces filling her mind like a flood, faces lost and buried, and she despises herself for letting it happen. It takes just one shaky, uncontrolled brush of his skin and she is the one taking initiative. Feeling him jump a little, and seeing is eyes diverting to her, first in a quick glance, and then slowly, really seeing her for the first time. This time she doesn’t press and crush his fingers, this time she strokes upon those hairs in a calming and gentle motion, making this right, making it as it should be.

The kiss is chaste, the wedding night is too. Like her father he allowed no bedding ceremony. His father’s son, she thinks out of habit, but freezes as the feelings of wrong and right invade her once more. She kills the smile on her face instantly.

At night Sansa lies awake, and she believes he does too, at least the first couple of nights. She is disappointed that she can’t converse with him anymore, but she expected it. They lie in silence, her tongue so thick in her mouth and the words she forms in her head so little of a comfort, that she is struck mute.

It’s the icy cold of this winter that brings them closer, without any words. She finds herself rolled near his broad back in the middle of the night, opens her eyes because the strange atmosphere of warmth in front of her. She stares blindly at his form in the dark, the fetal position she is in providing no comfort anymore. When Sansa untangles her fingers from the death grip her fists are in, hears his breathing, feels it through the mattress and doesn’t want to wake him. She can’t remember the dream she had, but she is cold nonetheless and her hands hurt when she unclenches them. It’s like waking in thick mist, foul smelling, the odor of the dream lingers but it doesn’t smell like anything she could point her finger on. Maybe it was of Ramsay, maybe of her father’s death, maybe it was something entirely different. Right now Sansa doesn’t care, inches closer to him, not breaking her pose, but settling, curved up like she is in the small of his back, her temple barely touching his skin. She only allows herself this because it’s the haze between waking and sleeping, he wouldn’t even know, and she would make herself forget. She’s like a cat, she thinks warmly, and it’s the last thing she is aware of, she drifts of instantly again, strangely calmed by the rhythm of Jon’s breathing.

She is more like a cow, she thinks a couple of nights later, when she awakes soaked in sweat, shaking and crying. Her fists are balled so hard, that she feels her short nails dig into her flesh, and she knows that she has drawn blood, not matter how short she clips them. Her body is rigid, her shift clammy, her knees drawn up so high under her chin, that her back aches and then there is this coldness. It settles inside her and makes her freeze and shake and chatter her teeth without any control over it.  She tries to breathe but fails miserably, her hammering heart numbing all other sound. Panic robs her voice the moment she is aware of him. It robs every thought and movement too, and she can’t fight it no longer.

It’s just when the blood stops ringing in her ears that she feels Jon’s grip on both of her wrists. He is holding them apart but close to her chest, has spooned around her from behind in a mimic of her fetal position and crushes her to him. He doesn’t speak, but she feels his breathing heavy and quick,  feels that she is starting to cry, feels the wetness soaking her hair, smudging on his arm, feels ashamed.

He doesn’t let go until she is stops struggling, holds her in this tight embrace until she has calmed down, just like cattle in a queeze chute. An eternity later she fights her numb hands free of his grip without any resistance. Once she has moved, a hand of his comes up to brush the  hair out of her face, the other slips between both her hands again, and she grips it with both of hers. She draws it under her chin, towards her chest by instinct, feels his arm flex beneath her head and his beard scratch her shoulder. It doesn’t matter, she thinks dizzily, his fingers in her hair, his palm in both her hands, like for prayer, a soft kiss behind her ear, and his whole body shielding her.

It’s through those moments in the night, that she realizes that she doesn’t know him at all. That she had been blind to him from the start, from her start in this world. She tries not to blame her dear mother, holding Catelyn’s memory so dear, that it feels like a betrayal, when Sansa comes to the conclusion that her mother wasn’t perfect. That she doesn’t know this man that shares her bed as a brother at all. She still remembers Robb’s first fight with a training sword, Brans favorite place to climb, Rickon’s favorite deserts and Arya’s favorite prank on her, does know their features by heart, the color of their hair, eyes, every mold and freckle in their face, the way each one of them walked and moved and smelled and talked and laughed and cried.

She never knew any of this of Jon, not until she looked at him in the cold light of day, after another night they fought each other through.

Now she knows, how he tosses endlessly until he falls asleep, but then sleeps deep, mostly dreamless, but alert to sound, sounds mostly coming from her.

Now she knows how the smell of him calms her when he embraces her, how his breathing is a lullaby and his warmth becomes essential to fight her inner cold. She knows the feel of his hand, the crisp hairs at the back of it, the calloused palms and every scar that has been woven in there. She knows the outline of his back in the night, knows the roughness of his beard and the softness of his hair. Knows, that he gathers her in without hesitation after another horrid nightmare, knows that he has nightmares on his own sometimes, knows how to calm him, when he tries to fight yet another shadow at his back.

By time she knows the scars on his chest, the color of his eyes when his face is so close that her vision blurs, the way he moves, kisses, sighs. She thinks his favorite color must be black, but one day he tells her it’s copper.

Yet, Sansa is right with her fears. Things change fast after they were wed. There is not much laughter and light conversation, not like before. How could there be, after all the great war took from them, after all what those years since they first left Winterfell, took from them?

Still it is hard to realize that she lost yet another brother, even after the war, even after she thought she had nobody more to lose, a brother she never really had, one she never knew.

Sometimes she remembers Jon sulking in the corner, while she played with Arya, Bran and Rickon, watching her with amusement when Arya pulled her hairs and teased her with another dirty snowball thrown at her nice gown. Or she remembers him with one of those rare smirks on his face, mostly when he was training with Robb. But then things seem different suddenly and she also remembers his dark gaze following her step by step, when she crossed the lawn with her mother at her side.

She griefs for the boy in the corner, in the shadows, the boy that was her brother, but was not. And then she stops, without realizing it at first.

She stops when the nightmares subside for good,  stops after he still holds her at night without them, after she refuses to call him Aegon, after their memories of each other start with that day on Castle Black, the day of their reunion. She stops after she knows everything there was to know about him, after she calls him husband for real, after he holds her in passion for the first time. Day by day, she stops thinking about this shadow he was to her childhood, every day a bit more. And the last time she thinks about her shadow brother is when she gives birth to a boy who’s hair is his father’s favorite color.

Yet Sansa, after years and years doesn’t allow herself to think that this change was a good thing. She has too much respect of her parents and her lost siblings, too much fear to admit that their deaths were necessary so she could be that happy. And happy she is, as much as she still can be, after everything. And she finds it a waste to think of her life otherwise and muse over the things that could have been. She knows it’s unfair but that is the curse of a survivors Jon says one day.  They carry the dead with them, along with the cruelty and bloodshed. They will always have a heavier burden than the generation to come. Sansa knows that this is true, but she still feels guilty to trade one family for another.

But in the end, she overcomes even that somehow and the guilt transforms in a deep remembering with little remorse when she looks at her children and her husband. It’s life after all,  it’s not fair but it’s what they have, what they built and she couldn’t be more grateful. Even for the worst times in her life, even for the torture and the shame and the pain, because she knows that healing came from the most unexpected place and person. And what would they have been without it? Only the gods would have known what would have become of her and her shadow brother. And that is  the last real thing that frightens her deeply.

So she turns to him and pushes the thought aside , keeps it locked up in her mind for another time to worry about. She lets his arms come around her like a million times before, feels his heart strong beneath her palm, finally content if this would be the end of her, and him and their song , without further ambition, glittering dreams and false illusions, just…. Finally…… home.

I'm Sorry (Draco Malfoy Imagine)


Requested- Can you do a Draco Malfoy imagine when he’s always been really horrible to you and after the years one day he sees you crying because he’s constantly mean to you and he admits his feelings for you but you’re too angry to forgive him so he fights for you and eventually you forgive him and then become a couple? Love your imagines!

gif not mine

Originally posted by imaginesandmoreforfandom

Draco Malfoy was always as rude as anyone could possibly be. He was especially mean to you, though you never knew why. You hated being looked down, so you never showed any weakness towards his remarks. But it seemed like he would never stop taunting you.

“Wearing new robes, huh? Don’t bother, you couldn’t look any worse than you already are.” Draco walked passed you and bumped you right into your shoulder, causing your books to fall on the ground. You said nothing and rolled your eyes as you tried to pick them up. 

“Well then keep your eyes off me, arsehole.” You stepped away and found your way back into your dorm. You looked into the mirror, glancing at your reflection. Your robes looked perfectly fine, so did you. Sighing, you sat down on your bed and threw your books on the floor. Why does he have to be like this? You thought. 

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Angry Sex

It would be after a particularly rough Quidditch match, Calum angrily stomping into the empty showers long after his defeated team had left, his slightly smirking girlfriend in tow.

“Need a stress relief, babe?” She’d mock, dropping her robes to the floor and pulling her stressed boyfriend’s off as well, his beautiful golden body leaving her in awe, despite the countless times she’d seen him bare.

He’d crush his mouth to hers in loo of an answer, using his wide hands to lift her up with ease as she flicked on the water, steam starting to fog up the mirrors and leave their burning skin damp.

Calum would hold her against the wall, his face buried into her neck as he sucked bruises into her soft skin, earning a loud whimper from his lover.

“Cal.” She’d mewl, knowing that unlike their usual tangles underneath the sheets, this time he would be focused on chasing his own release, all of his pent up anger and frustration not causing him to want to take care of her needs.

She bit into his shoulder roughly as he positioned himself at her dripping entrance, the water cascading down their soon-to-be-joined bodies and leaving her hands sliding against his slick back.

Calum groaned in pleasure once he dropped his girl’s body down onto his length at the same time that he jutted his hips forward, and he heard her loud moan at the intrusion.

Unlike the other times that they’d made love, Calum wasn’t doing all he could to please his princess, but he was only focused on himself coming to a release.

He fucked her roughly against the wall, kneading her breasts in one of his large palms as he continued to suck hickeys into her throat and collarbone.

He could hear her screaming out his name, but all that mattered to him at the moment was the growing tightness in his balls, signaling his imminent release.

She shuddered as he pulled out and painted her stomach with his release, feeling herself climax at the hot splashes on her belly, screaming in pleasure despite the pain in her hips and tit from his rough touch.

Calum gently let go of her, his now cleared head leaving him with the guilt of the already bruised skin on her hips, throat, and breast.

He slid to his knees, pressing gentle kisses to her hip bones that were a darkening purple color, before doing the same to the fingerprints around her breast and the round hickey on her neck and shoulders.

She sighed in content as his lips and tongue soothed the pain from her skin, bringing his lips up to hers for a gentle kiss.

“I may have lost tonight, but I’m still a winner with you by my side.” He’d mumble against your smiling lips before shutting off the water and wrapping you in several fuzzy towels.


And it would be after he heard one of your housemates going on about how odd it was that a babe like you was dating a square like him.

He’d pull you into the Prefect’s bathroom, capturing your mouth with his and quickly undressing you both before entering the massive tub, filled to the brim with pink foam and purple water, your favorite combination.

You’d break away to ask him what had gotten him so riled up, but he entered you unexpectedly, your words cutting off into a high-pitched moan as your normally reserved boyfriend fucked you roughly against the side of the tub.

He’d bounce you up and down on his length, his teeth nipping into your neck as you’d call out his name, the sound echoing around the room.

And he’d watch with hooded eyes as the door would open, the boy from earlier gaping at the sight in front of him before he’d close the door and rush off, Luke smirking because he knew that the boy took his bathes at this time every night.

So he’d make sure that you didn’t forget whose girl you were, and that the slight wobble to your step wouldn’t let the Gryffindor forget it either.

Luke would slow down a bit now that his plan of the loudmouthed boy seeing him fuck you senseless had succeeded, and he’d push one of the knobs, letting the water quickly drain out until there were only a few inches left.

He’d pull out and gently lay you on your back, kissing over the reddened skin of your hips before sliding back in slowly, letting you stretch around him.

“Sh-Shit, Lu.” You’d whine as he lapped his tongue against yours as he rocked in and out of your shaking body until you came around him, your tightness bringing him to his climax as he came inside of you, his breath faltering against your mouth.

And you’d lie there for a moment as the water began refilling the tub, Luke pulling you up to rest on his lap as he gently washed your hair until you were strong enough to do it yourself.


The stupid Potions master had done it again, calling Ashton out in class for not completing his task correctly.

He would fume silently as you knew just what was waiting in the free period that you had next, and not minding one but that Ash would use you as his stress reliever.

It would be in the broom closet on an empty corridor, Ashton dropping your books to the ground (since he’d insist on carrying them to every class) before he’d look up to see you already bare, save for the tie that he loved pulling as you both got a bit rough in the sack.

He’d waste no time in starting, immediately dropping to his knees to get you ready, not wanting to hurt you anymore than his thick length already would, and you’d bite on the tie as his fingers would prod into you, stretching you and getting you wet in anticipation for the great angry sex.

Once he deemed you ready, he’d stand up, hooking your legs around his waist as he roughly entered you, your teeth sinking into his neck to silence your screams.

He’d rut his hips forward, thrusting into you as you’d groan and whimper, him pulling your head up from his shoulder to connect your lips, mumbling between pants, “I… Love… You.”

You’d whine at his words, not able to respond but you clench around him, and he knows that you feel the same way.

He’d begin moving your body to meet his thrusts, ultimately pounding you deeper into the stone wall, but you don’t mind because he’s so far deep into you.

And as you’d reach your climax, he’d thrust harder and quicker, you screaming out his name as you came all over him, Ash pulling out once you settled down and coming all over your quivering stomach.

He’d rest his forehead against yours as you’d catch your breath, him unraveling a bandana that he uses in Quidditch to wipe your stomach clean before pressing a kiss to your belly button, gently sponging them up to your upturned lips.


Michael wasn’t one for sweet love making, but once he met you, that all went out the window.

It had been ages since he’d been balls deep inside of someone, chasing his own release and not paying any mind to the little minx below him.

You’d taken a trip down to Hogsmeade when an ugly girl from house called out that he’d gone soft, and for some reason, that irked him straight to the core.

So once you exited Zonkos, Mikey pulled back up to the castle, his jaw ticking the whole way, only slowing down once you’d asked if you had done something wrong.

“No, love. It’s just something someone said to me.” He’d sigh ashamed, no longer hellbent on taking you up to his dorm and making you scream loud enough for the whole castle to hear.

“If it’s about that wrench commenting on our vanilla sex life, I was quite looking forward to proving her wrong.” You’d mumble casually before taking off into the direction of the dungeon.

He’d join eagerly, quickly stripping you down once you’d get into his empty dorm, passing a few kids in the common room.

You were no saint, and most Slytherins already knew that, but you were going to make sure that the girl from Hogsmeade left Mikey alone after this.

You didn’t have to exaggerate your scream once he slammed into you, catching you off guard before he began fucking roughly up into you, your gasps and moans echoing.

“M-Mikey…” He’d smirk at your euphoric face, leaning down to suckle on your nipples that were peaked from the cold, and he’d only suck harder as you’d groan at the sensation.

His hips would slam into yours as he’d bounce you on his length, hitting you so deep and hard, you had to grip onto his jet black hair to keep from falling.

He’s impossibly speed up one you’d tighten around him, a high-pitched whine leaving your lips as you climaxed at the same time your boy did, Mike still slamming up into you as he kneaded your ass cheeks.

Once you’d both calmed down, he’d pull out of you, a mixture of both of your release sliding down your legs as he wiped it up with a few tissues.

He’d mumble out a thank you into your neck, knowing that you didn’t particularly enjoy being treated as a tool for sex, but you did it for him.

You just smiled as you walked hand in hand down to the common room, past the nosy girl from earlier, the scent of sweat and sex lingering long after you’d both gone.

One hundred to zero

Word Count: 2615

TW: Homophobic slurs, swearing

Genre: AU, Highschool, Fluff

Author Note: I had such a good time writing this! I’m finally writing again as well!!

Summary: Dan is a stereotypical high school hottie, but after he comes out as bisexual he starts getting harassed and bullied by the whole school. one day, someone goes to far and he leaves class in tears. after taking a couple laps around the school, he notices a small, secret room that is only visible by one angle. he decides to go in and take a nap, but when he turns on the light, he notices phil lester, the skinny black haired boy who was his science partner a couple months ago, with the pale skin and the big glasses, in the corner, writing furiously in his worn-out notebook.


Keep reading

No Good With Words

Song: You There - Aquilo (absolutely beautiful song).

Summary: reader gets cheated on by her non-hunter boyfriend. Dean comes to save the day, and lets a few things slip that he thinks she won’t hear… This oneshot was based on this imagine.

and was highly requested as a full fic.

Words: 3104.

Warnings: insecurity, swearing I suppose?, sensual semi-smut (but it is way too graceful to be erotic tbh…), so much fluff you might die.

A/N: it’s finally here! The one you’ve been waiting for… or one of the many ones. Dean’s a cheesy bugger when he wants to be, huh? @jordanwinchesterimagines, here is what we’ve discussed… Also @but-deans-back-tho if you want this on your little Hump Day smut break section as it’s only semi-smut, or the, er, smut section (if it makes the cut), you are always welcome. Enjoy and feed back please, everyone! BTW sorry it’s A) short and B) shit x


Come pick me up? Caught him with another girl again. Waiting for the ‘I told you so’… you typed, and hit send to your best friend, Dean.

On my way, sweetheart. Hang in there. he responded almost immediately.

Sighing, you planted yourself down on the brick wall outside your now-ex boyfriend’s house, your weight dropping as if it were from a great height. Dean had warned you last time you walked in on him with another girl that he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again… but you had trusted him and brushed Dean’s comment off. Rendered second best by some stupid guy who didn’t even hunt, again. How could you have been so stupid?

You heard the familiar rumble of the Impala coming to a halt after a few minutes of numb, thoughtless teeth-chattering. Dean swung the door open and clambered out, directly into the path of the light from the nearest lamppost. The smile you had donned upon witnessing his arrival quickly dissolved and reversed once you saw the look on his face. He never looked that angry unless he’d… unless he’d killed.

Jogging across the road and nimbly dodging a beeping car, he reached you and pulled you up from where you were seated.

“Hey, y/n-y. You go get in the car, I’ll go a little ape and show him who’s boss, and then we’ll go out for a burger, just you and me, ‘kay?”

Finally, a real, genuine grin crossed your countenance. “Sounds perfect.”

“No,” he began, “it’ll be perfect if I can scrape up the cash to buy you an extra large milkshake” he squeezed your bicep and smirked, before turning away from you and marching towards to door of the house like a soldier on their way to stand to attention. Feeling free to, well, let himself in, he left the door open behind him carelessly.

Bored and somehow forgetting about the Impala, you wandered up to the entrance to the house restlessly. Overhearing yelling coming from a distinctive, furious, I-only-appear-once-a-year-or-so side of Dean, you edged round to the wall beside the door, so you could hear without being seen.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?!”

“Relax, dude” your ex stuttered nervously. Upon peeking your head round the door timidly, you observed that he was backing away to a wall in the hallway, Dean driving him into the surface, which his back eventually hit. “It was just a random hook up, she wasn’t supposed to find ou-”

“Now, Mister freakin’ pencil dick, I’m gonna be straight with you” Dean grimaced, and in one sweep of his arm, had the other man pinned against the wall by the neck.

“Let me- let me go, what are you-”

“So, you land y/n. A beautiful girl. No, the most beautiful girl in the world to me. To you too, probably.”

Your head whipped back to the wall, and your eyes widened in shock. What?

“You manage to score y/n. And you… you know, there are people out there who would kill to do what you got to do” his voice was at a growl, now, it was so vicious. “You got to… you got the chance to kiss her, to hold her, tell her how beautiful she is, make her feel so goddamn good… hell, you got the chance to make her feel beautiful, too. And you friggin blew it, man!” his voice transformed from low and deadly to a spit-generating yell.

Your ex just stared.

“But, now, you fucking dick” he snarled, “now, she thinks she’s ugly. You know, the first time she caught you cheating she wasn’t even angry? She just told me how much better the other girl looked than her. She was like ‘oh, well I get why he did it, I mean, she had big boobs and a big ass and long flowing hair’, and she just listed all these things, but she’s fucking better everyone I’ve ever known!”

Dean’s voice dropped now, and he sounded resigned. “She’s better than all of them.”

With a forceful shove, he let the man go.


“You really didn’t have to pay for this, Dean” your voice was muffled due to a mouth full of beef.

“Don’t mention it, kiddo” Dean chew-talked back. “My treat. And I didn’t even have to get a scammy credit card out for the milkshake, either” he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, encouraging you to be impressed.

“Is everything alright?” a waiter approached the table, on a routine check of the diner.

“Awesome, thank you. Sorry, got my mouth full” he smiled a hamster-like smile at her.

“How would you like to have your mouth full of something else later?” the waiter said, winking at him in an attempt at seduction.

“Excuse me?” Dean very near spat his chips onto the plate where he’d collected them from.

“I- I meant…” she trailed off, the strike of confidence in her a few moments ago evidently fizzled out.

“I’m obviously with someone, and you go and disrespect her like that as if I’d abandon her?!” the man accompanying you could be intimidating when he wanted to be, and this was sure as hell one of those times.

Awkwardly, the waiter shuffled back and forth a couple of inches on her feet for a couple of seconds.

“Do you want a friggin’ tip or not?! Get lost!”

She scuttled away, Dean’s frightening side obviously winning over his attractive one, here.

“Sorry about that” he shook his head and returned to his food, as if he had anything to apologise for.

“No, I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t wanna… crash your party” you attempted to express how you didn’t want to deny Dean of opportunities.

“y/n, don’t apologise. I was the one that took you here, bought you food, hung out with you. It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to” he grinned, fist nudging your shoulder lightly, teasing you.

“I can’t believe you know a song that isn’t classic rock!” you punched his arm slightly harder, giggling a little as you did so.

“Shut up” he mumbled playfully, licking his lips and beaming back at you.

For a while, there was only silence between the two of you as you ate (and in your case, drank).“Why does that never happen to me, Dean?” you asked, your brow furrowing at your pondering.

“What?” Dean pulled his gaze back from out of the window.

“Why do people never… why do people never do what that waiter did to you? I see people wanting to… wanting to get with you all the time… why does no one ever even come up to me?”

Dean looked at you, right then. He really looked at you. It felt as if his gaze was spanning every inch of you, not just your body, but your mind, too, your soul. He looked at you, and an expression you’d never seen on his face before appeared in place of his resting one.

“You know,” you began, pushing the last couple of chips around your plate like they were being chased round a car park. “Sometimes I just wish God had made me beautiful.”

You avoided Dean’s gaze, but he must have seen tears stinging your eyes. 

“Hey” he rubbed your shoulder, causing you to flick your eyes up at him. It felt forced. Every move did, in that moment. “Let’s get back to the bunker, okay?”

You merely nodded.

On the drive back, you worked yourself up into even more of a state mentally. As Dean hummed along to early 80s rock ballads softly, probably not even realising he was doing it, you grimaced bitterly and shook your head. What the hell did you think he was gonna do? Pick you up bridal style and whisk you off home to show you exactly how beautiful he thought you were? As if… 

Those things he said to your ex boyfriend… you couldn’t make them out clearly anyway. And if what you thought you had heard was what he’d actually said, well, he was probably only saying it to protect you… why would he mean it?


Half an hour later, you approached Dean’s room, hot chocolate in hand. You hadn’t wanted to disturb or wake Sam by sorting out your own laundry and finding something to wear straight from the dryer, so Dean had leant you a t shirt and a pair of boxers (which he claimed he’d never worn before, but still smelled like him) of his to wear to bed. 

“You know what I think you’d like?” you proposed, propping up the pillow and fidgeting to settle down on the other side of the bed to where Dean was situated, your drink now soon to be forgotten on the bedside table. “Gossip Girl.”

“Come on, kiddo… you can’t be serious. It sounds like it’s for pre-teens!”

“Shut up and watch one episode, ‘kay?” you chuckled despite your record breaking low mood.

3 episodes later and the closing credits were rolling once again. You were curled up against Dean’s side, his arm slung around you. His touch made you tingle, even with the smallest of contact, so this was pushing you towards overdrive. Friends did this, all the time, it didn’t even mean anything, but-

“I think you’re beautiful.” Dean said. He stared straight ahead, and spoke quietly, as if he was afraid.

“I think you’re adorable when you come out of your room in the mornings and your hair is all messy and you’re in a baggy shirt and panties.” A pause. “I think you’re gorgeous when you dress in your normal clothes and not hunting ones, even if it’s just putting a new shirt on to go to the bar.” Another pause. “I think you’re hot as hell when you’ve just come out of a hunt, when your clothes are all ripped and there’s blood all over you.” You could see, now, that he had been crafting what to say in his head to the very letter for hours. He’d probably deleted sentences in his mind, started over dozens of times. “I think you’re so, so pretty when you put on a nice dress or a… or a skirt or whatever it is, even to interview someone for a case.”

No. He couldn’t be… He couldn’t.

Your mind was racing, trying to come up with any possible liable excuse for it… maybe misheard him, or he was possessed because there was a malfunction with his tattoo, or… 

You saw it as impossible, refusing to believe it and you would take any option other than him not meaning it. After all this time, why would he suddenly express this? Why would you suddenly deserve him? 

“Remember” you proposed. “Remember when we were at that bar? And y- and you… you told me you like, ya know, girls with big arses?" 

No response from Dean. Despite the lack of reciprocation, you could sense that he recognised the moment you were reminiscing about from the manner in which you felt him tense his muscles beside you.

"You were saying to me, you said something about big boobs and nudged me and I laughed but then my voice cracked and I didn’t talk for the rest of the night.”

Your right leg, which Dean’s hand had been relatively close to, shook.

“I- A few days l-later, you brought a lady home, and she was… she was really pretty. And lovely too, when she spoke to me and I heard- our rooms are next to each other, and the walls are quite thin and I- I pressed my ear against the wall and listened to you giggling with her and calling her baby and telling her how good she… I closed my eyes and pretended I was in that room." 

"I don’t know why you’d- Dean, you knew it’d hurt me, so why lie to me just now? Because some- some guy was… thought the same thing as you?" 

Dean opened his mouth, and there were so many things he could’ve said, that he wanted to say, but simultaneously, his mind went entirely blank. 

Slowly, in a surrendered fashion, you shuffled along the bed and rose from it, landing on your feet. You didn’t want to talk any more, not to him, not to anyone. Not more than you had to.

"Need to put some bottoms on or something” you mumbled so inaudibly that you were entirely surprised when Dean replied.


There was no… there was no other way of… 

“I can’t stand to look at myself” you said plainly, your voice void of all emotion.

“y/n, wait."You turned around, in no rush, your life feeling as if it had transferred into slow motion.

"Sit there. This will just- sit there.” He gestured to the middle of the bed, propelling himself forward by his arms.

Obeying his instruction, you dragged yourself to where Dean requested you situate your body. Literally, you weren’t dragging your own weight, but it was like you were, from the way you felt. You felt heavier than you ever had before.

“I- y/n, I can’t… I can’t do words. I’m sorry, I tried just now, but I- it didn’t…” you knew what he was trying to say.

“I want to… I want to show you something. Show you I- I’m not all talk.”

You didn’t even expect yourself to find the strength to nod, so you looked him in the eyes, and he knew that that was a signal of approval.

“I’m gonna lay you down now, okay?” he informed you gently, and you delivered a weak smile in return.

His hands. His hands were everything you’d ever imagined them to be when they came into contact with each of your sides, lying you on your back as if you were porcelain.  Large, warm, rough yet soft… You were mesmerised by the feeling of his hands. In consequence, it took all of your focus to listen to what Dean uttered next.

“If I- if I touch you when you don’t want to or where you don’t want to, you tell me, sweetheart” he leant over you, not too closely yet not so far that it felt insincere. “I’ll back off straight away. You don’t have to be afraid, I won’t- I won’t hurt you.”

You nodded a couple of times in response.

“Listen, I- I know I said those things and slept with that girl. But I was, y/n, I was- I was trying too hard to make you believe I wasn’t into you. I’m gonna show you exactly what I wanted to do instead. Hell, what that douchebag guy should’ve done. Is that okay?” he bit his lip.

Oh, fuck.

“Yeah. 'Course.” you managed.

“Like I said, if things get uncomfortable, you tell me, yeah?”

You nodded once more.

Dean gently rode up your t shirt so its hem rested just below your chest. Without looking at your face again, he ducked his head down and pressed his lips to your stomach. He allowed them to rest there for a moment, letting his forehead fall to your skin and inhaling deeply. 

After a few minutes, he brought his head up again, if only a little. Soon enough, it came down again and slowly, he was kissing every single spot on your stomach. His mouth was soft, and slightly wet, and warm, and his lips were so plump and he was so fucking pretty. 

By the time he was finished with your stomach, he was flushed in his face. 

Dean was blushing? Hell, that was really damn cute. 

“Uh, it’s getting a bit hot in here” Dean coughed, trying to be inconspicuous, but there was nothing subtle about him slipping his t shirt off. God, obviously you’d seen him shirtless before but…

“Can I take this off?” you felt a light tug on your t shirt and immediately mumbled “yeah”, before putting your arms up and dean pulling it over your head. 

Saying nothing more, Dean returned to his work. 

The flesh of your breasts rose with goose bumps as his lips lingered in turn on every inch of each one. He took such care with each kiss, such caution that you almost melted.

Holding up his weight on his elbows, he lightly brushed his thumbs over each of your nipples, rubbing tender circles into them a few times before returning to his previous position of holding himself with his palms flat on the bed. 

As Dean nuzzled his head into your neck to show that part of your body what he’d just shown your torso, he lifted your left leg up and stroked the underside of your thigh with his fore and middle finger. He then buried his face even deeper into the crook of your neck, so you could feel his five o'clock shadow tickle you a bit, and remained in that position, just breathing in and out, between your legs, while you tried to control your leg that wanted to shake. After, it was your neck that got similar treatment to before, only this time, his kisses were open-mouthed and wetter and fuck, shit, it was the most sensual thing you’d ever experienced and you never wanted it to stop.

“Beautiful” Dean’s lips fluttered up to the corner of your jaw. 

“Gorgeous” he peppered kisses all over your cheek and it was your turn to blush.

“Sexy” he nipped at your nose and smiled down at you afterwards. 

“Such a pretty girl” one prolonged kiss to the other cheek. 

Dean brought his head up again and looked at you. The fingers that had been caressing your thigh halted. 

He drew in a breath, and it looked like he was about to say something. Instead, his lips met yours.

All the other kisses he’d given you had been gorgeous in their own way, but this one felt different. Somehow even more personal than the previous ones. It was slow, his mouth lapping at your own lips, and it felt passionate although it wasn’t fierce - it was ever-gentle, and caring, and when Dean pulled away you suddenly felt as if you had lost something that you were desperately reaching for.

“I’m… I’m sorry, I’ve never… Done anything like this for, uh, anybody before…” he cleared his throat. “Do you believe me now?”

You smiled meekly. “Er, yeah.”

“Good. Now can we watch Gossip Girl? I just really need to know what happens with Dan and Sere-”

“I thought it was for 'pre-teens’?” you shook your head light-heartedly.

“Shut up” Dean muttered. 

Dean sat up and lifted you out of his way before leaning back against the headboard of the bed. You pulled your shirt over your head whilst you had a free moment. Angling forward, he pulled you onto his lap and traced patterns on your back, trailing his hand beneath the fabric as the two of you watched the next (five) episode(s), his free arm safely clasped around your waist.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah, babe?" 

Babe. You could get used to that.

"I wish he’d cheated on me sooner.”

Approve [NCT U Taeyong Oneshot]

REQUESTED: Taeyong scenario where you think you don’t deserve his perfect self because you have a lot of flaws thank you so much!!!!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“This is very risky,” I said. “It might ruin your entire career. Imagine what your fans would say.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to keep it a secret anymore,” Taeyong said. “I’m already busy with the schedules and we have to go on dates in secret. I don’t want that. I rather have the whole world know that I love you than tire myself out and worry you.”

“If going on dates for you is too tiring, we can always just take a break until you’re really ready,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind waiting.”

“No, I don’t want that,” Taeyong said with a shook. “I want you, and only you.”

I sigh and looked out at the city. “Taeyong, I hope you know what you’re doing,” I said to him with an uneasy feeling in my heart.


After SM Entertainment confirmed Taeyong’s relationship with me, many NCT fans were talking about it - especially in social medias.

Most of the fans were supportive - of course:

Oh, my god, I’m so happy that they’re together. I ship them so much!

I’m a little upset, but as long as Taeyong is happy, then I’m happy.


I’m so happy that Taeyong found someone that loves him just as much as we do.

They both look so good together <3

Another SM idol in a relationship, this year is definitely the year of love.

I ship TAETEN, but it they both look so good too.

But, of course, there are always people that did not approve of us together:

NO! Taeyong is mine! Go away you b*tch.

NOOOOO! Why did Taeyong choose her? She’s so ugly.

She’s ugly, untalented and fat. She doesn’t deserve him.

I bet she only loves him because he’s famous.

I thought he would have at least choose someone prettier than her.  

Does he like naturally like girls that are ugly? Eww…

Taeyong has been telling me not to read any hate comments on my social media - or any comments, but it’s hard not too.

First, I can barely go out right now because the paparazzi are constantly trying to take photos of me and an angry mob of fans probably called some kind of ninja assassin to assassinate me in my sleep. Which means I’m stuck indoors with nothing to do. I can’t even go out at night!

I don’t blame Taeyong for this, but I wish he didn’t tell everyone yet. Luckily, his fans didn’t affect him much - just me…

I’ll be honest, the comments have been affecting me a lot but I don’t show it in front of Taeyong because I don’t want him to worry about me. I’m already a burden to him anyway.

“Y/N-ah,” Taeyong said as he got dressed. “Let’s go on a date tonight after my practice, okay?”

“But won’t you be tired?” I asked and helped him touch up his hair.

“When I’m with you - never,” Taeyong said and kissed my cheeks - making me blush. “Are you going to go anywhere later?”

“Umm, I don’t think so,” I replied. “I’m a little too tired to go anywhere.”

“Oh, then never mind. I was about to ask you to help me do the groceries because we’re running out of food at home,” Taeyong said. “But, never mind.”

“I’ll go then, don’t worry. I’ll only take a while,” I said with a gentle smile and gave him his bottle. “Do your best in your practice, okay?”

“Okay,” Taeyong replied and gave a quick kiss on my lips before leaving. “Take care.”

“You too,” I replied and looked out the window with a sigh.

“The supermarket is only a few blocks away, what’s the worst that can happen right?” I said to myself and went to change.


“Stay away from our Taeyong!”

“You don’t deserve him!”

“He’s too perfect for you!”

“You have too many flaws to be with our perfect Taeyong!”

“Go and get some plastic surgery! I don’t want Taeyong to kiss an ugly face like you!”

“Your so fat, go and lose some weight!”

“She’s a slut!”

“She’s probably cheating on him with another NCT member!”

“She’s so stupid!”

“Why is she even here!?”

“Fake! Fake! Fake!”

“I don’t usually hate people, but people like you are worth hating on!”

As I entered the apartment, I collapsed onto the floor with tears following in my eyes. I can’t believe that I thought that nothing will happen. How much more stupid can I be?

I didn’t even bother to keep to groceries that I managed to buy before the fans saw me. I just laid on the floor of my apartment thinking about my life choices and the fans comments. They all keep following on my mine and they’re right - except for the slut part, though. I’ve never slept with any NCT member, not even Taeyong.

Taeyong is so precious and his heart has gotten fragile. His heart has already been torn apart by the netizens who keep commenting on his past, and with this…I feel like a burden for him. I don’t deserve to be with someone like him. He needs to be with someone that’s beautiful, smart, funny…someone perfect.

I’m not any of that. I’m ugly, stupid, not funny and not perfect. Even if I try to be, I’ll be nowhere near him. Taeyong’s the closest thing to perfection and I’m the closest thing to trash.

Why did he choose me? Why am I even dating him? Why did he even love me? Does he even love me? Why do I love him? Why did he have to be an idol? Why did I have to be with someone like him? Why is my life like this? I’ve been a good person all my life…even if I did steal my mother’s cupcakes when I was younger - I was still young! You can’t blame me for wanting to eat my mother’s cupcakes…they’re good. Actually, I kind of wish I can have them right now…

What am I thinking? Urgh! I need to stop crying - if Taeyong sees me like this…

“Y/N-ah! I’m home!” Taeyong said happily as he entered.

I looked up and saw his expressions changed drastically.

“W-what happened?” Taeyong asked and ran to hug me on the floor. “Who made my Y/N cry?”

“N-n-no one,” I struggled to say but tried to smile. “I-it’s n-nothing. I-I just miss my parents.”

I sat up straight, wiped my tears away and looked at Taeyong - who didn’t seem convinced. He stood up and walked out the window to see some NCT fans outside the apartment block and immediately understood why I was like this.

He sighed heavily and cuddled me as if I was a teddy bear. “I’m so sorry,” Taeyong said softly. “If I wasn’t so selfish, this wouldn’t happen. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not my fault,” I said immediately.

“It is, if I didn’t tell SM to confirm our relationship, this would have never happened,” Taeyong said.

“Maybe if I was prettier then maybe the fans would approve of me. Or maybe if I was smarter, or maybe if I was skinner, or maybe if I had no flaws - they would approve of me,” I said.

“No,” Taeyong said immediately.

“Yes, that’s what they all say,” I said. “They said that I’m not perfect enough for you.”

“Y/N, my dear, you’re not pretty, smart and definitely not skinny,” Taeyong said.

“What!?” I exclaimed in shock.

“Wait, wait, here me out first,” Taeyong said and I let him continue.

“You’re not pretty because you’re beautiful. You’re not smart because you’re a freaking genius. You’re not skinny because you’re just the right size for me to cuddle,” Taeyong said. “You’re the most perfect thing I have ever had in my entire life.”

I became speechless after hearing him say those words. Sure, Taeyong says that at some point, but this one feels a little bit more special.

“I made her speechless,” Taeyong said and blushed a little.

“Yah!” I said and hit him lightly - making him laugh.

“So, don’t ever think for a second that you’re not perfect for me, okay?” Taeyong said and I nod.

“But, the fans. Some of them won’t approve of me,” I said. “When you’re an idol, your fans’ opinions do matter too.”

“Yes, but it’s not all of them,” Taeyong said. “Besides, my members all approve of you and I definitely approve of you.”


Thank you for requesting a Taeyong scenario! <3 Finally, not a Jaehyun scenario xD But I do love writing about Jaehyun.  I hope you love reading this and don’t ever feel insecure about yourself or anything. <3 I decided to post two because I didn’t post anything yesterday and I feel so bad T-T Mianhae~